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bloody-bee-tea · 2 months ago

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Beetober 2024 Day 4 - It's just me

This follows after No more soup and You're not a pet and I suggest reading those first.

Shouta is marking the papers in front of him, distantly aware of the show Hizashi is watching in the living-room but not really paying attention to it. It’s a nice background noise that washes over him with familiarity.

It isn’t until he hears the almost silent pitter patter of Hitoshi’s steps in the hallway that Shouta pays a little bit more attention to his surroundings.

He hates how silent Hitoshi is, hates to think why a ten-year-old knows how to hide his steps better than any aspiring pro hero Shouta trains but before the thoughts can consume his mind–again–he forces himself back into the present.

Hitoshi briefly stops in the doorway to the kitchen and Shouta can practically feel his gaze on him before he goes on, clearly aiming for the living-room. Shouta slightly turns his head, just enough to be able to spot the back of Hitoshi’s head and he sees how he hesitantly stops at the entrance to the living-room.

He watches the kid bounce on the balls of his feet before he seems to make a decision and step fully into the room.

It’s progress, Shouta knows that, no matter how hesitant Hitoshi appears to be. When they first took him home he wouldn’t leave his room for anything, and then only when they asked him to but recently he’s coming out of it more often and always of his own volition and it makes something warm and proud swirl in Shouta’s chest to see him finally start to accept that maybe he’s safe here.

“Hey, kiddo,” Hizashi greets Hitoshi as soon as he sees him, much more quiet than Shouta is used to, and this too has been a work in progress.

Hitoshi is skittish, loud noises and voices enough to send him running, just like fast and sharp movements are, and while Hizashi struggles with being quiet, Shouta struggles with making his presence known more.

It’s an adjustment period for all three of them and Shouta does not care to think about how often he or Hizashi have scared the kid inadvertently.

But it’s clear that at least they haven’t done any lasting damage, not if Hitoshi’s ventures out of his room are anything to go by and with that thought he focuses back on the papers in front of him.

Hitoshi very deliberately made his way to the living-room, so he either wants to be distracted or be with Hizashi and Shouta is not going to budge in on that.

“What’s up?” Hizashi asks next when Hitoshi stays quiet and of course Shouta can’t keep his attention on the grading he has to do.

It has been a struggle to get Hitoshi to speak once he revealed his secret to them and so it’s always a delight to hear the boy’s voice in the apartment.

“I wanted to–” Hitoshi cuts himself off, prompting Shouta to make a face at nothing, as he has to remind himself that it’s a work in progress.

Always a work in progress. One day Hitoshi will feel confident in stating what he wants, he simply has to believe that.

“You said your quirk is dangerous,” Hitoshi goes on, clearly aiming for a different approach to this and Shouta frowns.

It takes him a moment to remember that Hizashi mentioned that when Hitoshi practically begged them to give him back, as if they only thought of him as an animal to kick out once they grew tired of him and that memory still makes Shouta want to tear his hair out.

“I did,” Hizashi softly agrees and when Shouta glances over again he sees Hitoshi’s mob of purple hair nod but when nothing else follows Shouta frowns.

“You’re allowed to ask questions, Hitoshi,” Hizashi reminds him, completely unnecessary, since Hitoshi doesn’t even need that to activate his quirk but habits that have been beaten into you are hard to break, Shouta knows that.

“Can you tell me about it? About how it was growing up with that?” Hitoshi finally asks and Shouta doesn’t need to see Hizashi to know that he freezes right up.

So much for grading then, Shouta thinks with a sigh as he gets up, scooping up Egg as he goes to join Hizashi on the couch.

Hitoshi’s wary glance follows his every step and the kid seems close to bolting even though Shouta gives him a wide berth as he walks around the couch.

“I can do that, kiddo,” Hizashi finally softly says as Shouta deposits Egg into Hizashi’s lap, and even though nothing has even happened yet, Hizashi buries his fingers in the soft fur of the way too docile cat.

They had kind of expected this; they knew that ever since Hizashi had mentioned it, it would only be a matter of time before Hitoshi came asking more about this. That still doesn’t mean that this would be easy on Hizashi, though of course there had never been any doubt that he’d tell Hitoshi as much as he can should he find the courage to ask.

Hitoshi doesn’t seem convinced at all, his eyes darting between Hizashi and Shouta, who tries to give him a reassuring smile. The disbelief is still clear on Hitoshi’s face but before Shouta can say something Hizashi goes on.

“Shou is here because this is not easy for me to talk about and sometimes I go somewhere in my head when I do. Shou is really good at getting me back out of it, so he’ll just sit here in case that happens, alright?”

“Like when I have a panic attack,” Hitoshi states, and Shouta bites back the reminder that he is allowed to ask questions.

If they push too hard Hitoshi is likely to clam up on them and that’s the last thing they want.

“Not quite,” Shouta corrects. “Hizashi goes very quiet and very still and his eyes go vacant. I think it looks a little as if he’s under your quirk, actually, but he won’t be. It’s just something his own mind is doing to him.”

“And you can’t find your own way back,” Hitoshi mutters, barely audible and Hizashi nods.

“Yeah, I get all lost in here,” he says as he taps his temple. “I do eventually find my way back but it takes a long while and it leaves me all panicky when I come back on my own. It’s quicker and easier when Shou is there to help.”

“And the cat,” Hitoshi adds, staring at Egg who is still currently curled up in Hizashi’s lap.

“And Egg, yes. It helps sometimes to touch something that is grounding.”

Hitoshi is quiet for a moment, clearly thinking things over and Hizashi and Shouta share a look as they let him ponder over this.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Hitoshi finally says, straightening his shoulders, clearly determined to take it all back, but Shouta knows Hizashi too well to even think for a second that he’ll agree to this.

The kid asked a question and Hizashi will do his best to answer him.

“It’s fine, kiddo. It might not even happen,” Hizashi softly says and Shouta tries to hide his frown as best as he can.

It happens more often than not, whenever Hizashi remembers something from his childhood and he’s already been on edge for a while with everything that’s been going on with Hitoshi.

Hell, he found the kid with a muzzle on and then proceeded to have a very long panic attack once the kid was taken care of, so Shouta is really not too optimistic about this.

But it’s Hizashi’s decision, and he clearly has his mind already made up, so all Shouta can do is be there for him and try his best to guide him back home when he inadvertently loses himself.

“And even if it does, we’re right here, aren’t we?” Shouta asks as well, catching Hitoshi’s gaze, to let him know that he’s included in this.

He’ll probably help Hizashi come back better than Shouta ever could, if he’s being honest, even though Hizashi almost seems outraged that he should enlist Hitoshi’s help in this.

Shouta ignores it as best as he can and instead prompts Hizashi to finally speak because the kid asked a question and Hizashi decided to dig his own grave, so they better get on with it.

“What–what do you want to know?” Hizashi asks and Shouta graciously doesn’t comment on his obvious nerves, because for now his role is to be a silent observer.

Maybe they all get lucky today and that is all he has to be for this conversation.

“Your childhood,” Hitoshi hesitantly starts. “I was just wondering, what it was like for you and if you can–” his voice drifts off and Shouta watches the kid wring his hands in his lap, desperate to reach out and pull him into a hug, but he keeps to his side.

He’s just here as an observer. This is Hizashi’s moment.

“If I can relate to what happened to you?” Hizashi carefully asks and Hitoshi nods, his purple hair fluffing around. “I can, kiddo,” Hizashi tells him with a sad smile and reaches out to take one of Hitoshi’s hands in his.

“I was born with my quirk, so you can imagine the amount of control I had when I was just born. I deafened my birth parents and the staff present and was then promptly abandoned. They, uh,” Hizashi swallows heavily and Shouta reaches out for his other hand.

This is already not looking good, if he’s stumbling over his words already.

“I’ve been told they kept me in a special facility for the first three years, isolated from everyone, to limit the damage I could do. I don’t actually remember that part, but when I turned four they brought out the–”

Hizashi’s voice breaks over the word and so instead he simply taps his lips. Hitoshi nods, his eyes wide and Shouta squeezes Hizashi’s hand.

“I spent the better part of my childhood with it on,” Hizashi admits and then leans forward, extracting his hand from Hitoshi’s to push his glasses up.

It takes Hitoshi a moment to understand what he wants but when he spots the faint, silvery scars on Hizashi’s face his hands fly to the bridge of his nose, tracing the mirroring ones there.

“You’re like me,” Hitoshi breathes out and Hizashi nods.

“Yeah, kiddo, we match!” The usual cheer is missing from his tone and Shouta wishes they could stop talking about this.

He hates it when Hizashi pushes himself to talk about this.

There’s already a faint trembling in Hizashi’s hand and even though he’s trying to smile at Hitoshi he can’t quite make his smile reach his eyes and that’s always a bad sign with Hizashi.

Hitoshi seems to notice that Hizashi is not doing too well, too tuned in to the emotions of adults around him and instead of asking what he so clearly wants to know, he bites his lip instead, his eyes flitting over to Shouta.

Shouta would love to tell him to stop, wants to spare all of them this, but Hizashi has made the decision to talk about this, and Shouta is not going to interfere with that.

So he nods encouragingly at Hitoshi, urges him to keep going but he still hesitates. He hesitates for long enough that Hizashi notices something is off, too.

“It’s okay, you can keep asking,” he tells the kid and by now even his voice shakes. Still, he seems determined, and Hitoshi must notice that, too, because he takes a deep breath.

“Your foster families. Were they nice to you or were they like mine?”

Hizashi’s hand jerks in Shouta’s and Shouta fights the urge to flare his quirk just to let his emotions go somewhere. They know that Hitoshi suffered abuse at most of his foster families, and even though they don’t know the details, they know enough to hate that he even has to ask that.

That there is even cause to ask that.

“Oh, kiddo,” Hizashi breathes out, his face falling. “They were like yours,” he then admits, because what else is there to say.

He did not wear the muzzle until he was eight for nothing, Shouta knows that. It still makes him furious to think what happened to Hizashi, what happened to Hitoshi.

To know that nothing has changed, not really.

“Some were–not quite as bad,” Hizashi goes on and Hitoshi nods in understanding and Shouta hates, hates, hates this but he bites it all back.

This is not about him. He has a role to play here and it’s not to get angry. Shouta forces himself to breathe evenly, to not tighten his grip on Hizashi’s hand beyond a steady comfort and he resigns himself to watching silently.

“Some were–worse. School was–bad, always bad,” Hizashi mutters and he’s slipping right through Shouta’s fingers, he can tell.

“I was never good enough, never quiet enough, even though they had–” His hand goes up to his face again, tracing over where the muzzle used to sit and Shouta doesn’t need to look at him to know that he’s gone inside his head now.

It’s not that noticeable if one doesn’t know what to look for, if one has no experience with this; Hizashi could just be lost in thought, spacing out for a moment, but Shouta knows better.

He knows Hizashi is caught up in all of his bad memories, all at once, trapped and unable to come back to them.

“Aizawa?” Hitoshi carefully asks, keeping unnaturally still and Shouta forces himself to give him a smile.

“You can move, he’s not going to notice. It’s fine, remember, this is why I’m here,” Shouta tells him and gently squeezes Hizashi’s hand.

“Hey, ‘Zashi,” he softly calls out and he’s grateful when Hizashi’s head twitches into his direction.

It means he’s still trying to be aware. It makes this easier. Sometimes, Hizashi doesn’t react to anything and those times are always so, so hard.

“I’m here, remember? It’s just me,” Shouta reminds him. “You’re in our home, yours and mine and Hitoshi’s, where no one can hurt you. You’re safe with us,” he goes on and his eyes flit over to Hitoshi for a moment.

“Remember Hitoshi? He’s right here with us,” Shouta goes on, nodding encouragingly at the kid who bites his lip briefly before he takes a deep breath.

“I’m here, too,” he then says, almost too quiet to be heard but Hizashi’s head slightly turns in his direction.

“‘Toshi,” Hizashi mutters and Shouta almost wants to laugh at how big the kids’ eyes get when he hears it.

“Take his hand if you want, it will help him,” Shouta whispers at him and after a moment of hesitation Hitoshi reaches out for Hizashi’s hand.

Shouta is glad to see Hizashi respond to that, his hand not entirely limp in Hitoshi’s, because that’s a good sign. Maybe Hizashi will be back with them before they even know it.

“See, Hitoshi is here and I am here, too. And we want you to come back. Even Egg is here, waiting for you to cuddle her like you always do,” Shouta says, placing Hizashi’s hand in Egg’s fur. “Do you remember how you usually cuddle her?” he asks and watches how Hizashi slowly, so slowly starts to pet her.

It’s not even close to what he normally does, but it’s so much better than it usually is when Hizashi gets like this.

“That’s right. Think you can come back to us? We’re waiting here for you, waiting for you to speak and to laugh like you normally do. It’s just not the same without you, you know, we miss you.”

“You miss me,” Hizashi mumbles, words barely understandable but Shouta nods anyway.

“Yeah. It’s real boring without you here, isn’t it, Hitoshi?”

Shouta almost feels bad to bring attention to the kid, but he’s still watching with big eyes, his hand around Hizashi’s and he hasn’t bolted yet, so maybe he wants to help.

“I like it when you hum while you cook,” Hitoshi admits and Shouta nods at him to keep going. “Do you remember the song you hummed yesterday? You wanted to tell me what it was but then Egg nearly jumped into the pot and you forgot,” Hitoshi says and Shouta has to bite back a snort because that is such an Egg thing to do.

They will never train her out of jumping into steaming hot food; food she doesn’t even want to eat, no less.

Shouta doesn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t for Hizashi to start humming, awareness coming back to his eyes faster than it ever has before. Going by the delighted look on Hitoshi’s face it’s the very same song he hummed yesterday.

Shouta knows it, it’s one of Hizashi’s favourite American songs, but he can never remember the name of it.

“Yes, that one, it was that one!” Hitoshi excitedly says and Shouta sees a smile curl around Hizashi’s mouth.

“Welcome back,” he quietly says, squeezing Hizashi’s arm once and when Hizashi’s eyes move over to look at him, Shouta has never been happier to see him alert and there.

“Hi,” Hizashi breathes out and leans in for a quick kiss, before he turns his attention back towards Hitoshi. “Hi, kiddo.”

“You’re back,” Hitoshi says, expression cautiously delighted and he doesn’t let go of Hizashi’s hand for even a moment.

“I am,” Hizashi agrees. “Thanks to you.”

“Excuse me, I helped,” Shouta drily says, more than relieved to see Hizashi’s smile and hear Hitoshi’s laugh.

This really has been one of the easiest and most painless episodes Hizashi has ever had and Shouta is glad for it. He hates to see his husband go where he can’t follow him, where he can’t protect him.

“I’m sure you did,” Hizashi teasingly says and moves his hand out of Egg’s fur to pat Shouta’s, before he goes on, more serious now. “You always do.”

“As long as you remember that,” Shouta teases him, before he reaches out to ruffle Hitoshi’s hair. “But you did really well, that was a good idea with the humming,” Shouta says and Hizashi nods.

“Yeah, that was really smart,” he agrees and Shouta watches a contemplating expression flit over Hitoshi’s face before he schools it back into his usual indifference.

“What is it, kid?” Shouta asks, tilting his head in question and Hitoshi shuffles where he sits.

“I’m just–do you think–”

“What, huh?” Hizashi gently prods him when he trails off without finishing his question and Hitoshi squares his shoulders, clearly gathering courage.

“I know counting breaths is supposed to help in a panic attack,” he starts and fiddles with the hem of his shirt, “but I always get confused and lose count and then–” he shrugs but Shouta can fill in the gaps.

Because if he’s being told to count and he loses count it would undoubtedly make him panic even harder, because he’s not following along like he’s supposed to.

“But maybe the humming could help?”

“Maybe it can!” Hizashi immediately agrees. “It’s worth a try.” Hizashi’s face briefly falls. “I’m sorry we didn’t realise that counting didn’t help,” he then offers but Hitoshi shakes his head.

“You asked me before, what I think would help, but I couldn’t–I didn’t think I was allowed to say,” he admits and for all that it makes Shouta furious again, to hear that the kid has never been allowed to ask for things, to even simply state things, it also makes something warm surge in his chest, because clearly now Hitoshi knows that he’s allowed to say something like that.

“You’re always allowed to say anything you want, kid,” Shouta still reminds him, because he thinks it can’t hurt if Hitoshi hears it again and again and again.

Hitoshi only nods at that before he ducks his head again, slumping in on himself.

“What is it, kid?” Shouta asks because by now he knows the tells of his family and the position Hitoshi is in means that he’s got something else to say, something he doesn’t feel comfortable saying.

“I don’t want to upset Yamada again,” Hitoshi mutters and Shouta and Hizashi share a look before Hizashi carefully pulls the kid closer.

“It’s not you who upset me,” he gently tells him as he tucks him into his side, “and even if that should happen, I have you two right here, don’t I? You’ll make sure I’ll be fine, I trust that.”

Hitoshi’s breath hitches in his throat and Shouta shuffles closer until he can put a hand to Hitoshi’s knee.

“He’ll tell you if it’s too much,” he reassures him as well and Hitoshi still doesn’t look at them, but he does speak up.

“It got better for you, right?” he asks, his voice thin and wavery and Hizashi drops a kiss to the top of his head and Shouta relaxes, because this is easier for Hizashi to talk about.

“It did, kiddo, it got so much better. My moms found me when I was eight and they took me in without hesitation. They got rid of the muzzle and pulled me out of school and even when I deafened one of them, they never faltered in their love for me.”

“You hurt them?”

“I did. I had basically no control over my quirk, because no one bothered to teach me or even let me talk. But my moms took care of that. They sent me to a specialist, had me training my quirk until I could sing at the top of my lungs without hurting anyone and then they moved us to a different city, far away from everyone who only remembered me as the dangerous kid. I never had problems in school again and my moms never hurt me. I got real lucky and I had a really happy childhood from then on.”

Shouta sees Hitoshi process that before he opens his mouth and promptly closes it again so fast that his teeth painfully clack together.

Shouta doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Hitoshi wanted to ask.

“Just like you will now,” he whispers, leaning in close and catching Hitoshi’s eyes. “We have you now, and we’re going to make sure that you never get hurt again. We’ll make you as happy as we can, I promise you that. You’re always safe with us.”

“We wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt you ever again, kiddo,” Hizashi says as well and Hitoshi slumps against his side, hiding his face away in his sweatshirt.

“Is it okay if I move to your other side?” Shouta asks after a moment because he’d really like to hug the kid now, too and he moves as soon as Hitoshi nods his consent.

Shouta sits close and brackets Hitoshi in by putting his arm around Hizashi’s shoulder and no one says anything when Hitoshi quietly cries into Hizashi’s sweater. It’s not necessary that anyone says something, because people have lied to Hitoshi all his life and so now it’s important that they show him that it’s okay, that he’s safe with them.

That they are never going to hurt him.

It will take time, Shouta is under no illusion there, but when he looks up at Hizashi he sees nothing but determination and love in his eyes and he knows that they are in this for life.

There is no way they are ever going to betray the fragile trust that was placed in them.

#bt writes #beetober2024 #bnha #mha #erasermic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shinsou hitoshi #hurt/comfort #dissociation #fluff #this time it's hizashi who needs a hug #erasermic adopt shinsou hitoshi #implied/referenced child abuse

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officialleehadan · 4 months ago

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For Eternity

HGE – UNconventional

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“I’ve decided to accept your offer.”

Vree was sitting in Lady Hoshi’s looped coils, comfortable and at peace after the celebration of his return from death, and the defeat of Void. It had been a small, but enthusiastic party, as those who came to his defense, Lord and Lady Petros, Al’Mudhib, Lady Hoshi of course, and Hades and Queen Persephone. The small, cheery party lasted well into the night, with good food, drinking, and tales of past follies.

It was a wonderful way to chase the last of the Underworld’s chill from his bones. By the time everyone left the Great Library, he felt almost like himself again. Now, he and Lady Hoshi were out in her garden, watching the fireflies and listening to the bells that filled her small pond. Vree held a cup of Lady Hoshi’s fine tea, and a plate with the remains of a batch of ha-cha-row sat beside them.

(For immortality?) Lady Hoshi asked, lazy and mostly asleep, although she roused at his words and swung her head over to nose him. He scratched lazily along her brow-ridge and she purred. (Not that I’m not pleased, but why so suddenly?)

“I decided in the Underworld,” Vree explained, still scratching at the soft scales where she was always a little itchy, and appreciated a thorough application of claws. “When you told me about Tokyo, I think. I realized then that you had seen so much history, and if I wanted to do the same, I would need to live longer.”

Given, he hadn’t really been thinking about immortality at the time, but now, with this quiet peace and safety, he could think about it more clearly. The idea of seeing, and preserving, history the way Lady Hoshi did was appealing. After all, he was there when the Human Galactic Empire first came to the Alliance. There were many long-lived species in the Alliance, but none had the connections he did to both governments.

He was the best, and one of the only, people who had the chance to nurture the future into something that was better for everyone. There would be horrors, the sight of Lady Hoshi’s beloved Tokyo in flames proved that, but perhaps he could help make for fewer of them. If he stayed as he was, he would have perhaps three or four hundred galactic years to do it. If he accepted Lady Hoshi’s offer of immortality, he would have far longer.

The lure of seeing history bee written, not just for his lifespan but for as long as immortality lasted, the heady temptation of learning everything there was to know, as Lady Hoshi did… surely there were worse reasons to desire immortality than the pursuit of knowledge and peace.

(Well-reasoned,) Lady Hoshi said with the warmth of pride in her voice as she followed his thoughts. He had given her permission to be in his mind, of course. She would never violate his privacy in such a way without his explicit invitation. It was new, but welcomed. (I would not have made you the offer if I did not think you would take well to it, but it will be an adjustment. Will you be able to watch those you love grow old, and die in time?)

“I don’t know,” Vree said, since honesty was the only true way forward, and Lady Hoshi did not need placating untruths. “I get bushy when I think about it too long, but I’ve never particularly imagined myself with a family of my own, and despite my affection with Graat… I don’t know if he would be comfortable with such an arrangement.”

(Will that be enough to convince you otherwise?)

“No. If things end between us, they end.” It would hurt of course, he liked Graat very much, and they had been, tentatively, starting to court. Still, it wasn’t love, not yet, and it would be easier to end it now if Graat was not accepting of his new lifespan. “Better to find out now, than later.”

(You will not be alone,) Lady Hoshi promised him gently, still purring under his claws. She tightened her coils around him, wary of her great strength, but so much like a hug that Vree could only purr back to her. (There are many in the Empire with lifespans such as mine, and I will always be here as a friend and guide when you need one.)

That, at least, was a reassurance in itself. To not be alone. It was true. There were so many Human-Others who had immortal lifespans. Vree thought back to all the papers he had written over the years. To the many people he had met already and the many more he knew only by reputation. It would take an eternity just to meet them all, and more were born or made every day.

“I’ll never be bored,” Vree said at last, and felt Lady Hoshi laugh around him, deep chuckles that vibrated through her long coils and escaped as little wisps of flame around her teeth. “But I may need to stay with you a while, to learn how I’ve changed, and learn how to face eternity.”

(My dear Vree, you will be welcome here for as many days as you live, and all the days after) Lady Hoshi said warmly and nuzzled him until he laughed. (For how else are we to face eternity, if not surrounded by those who love us best?)

~Fin

Okay darlings, that’s a wrap! Wow, it’s been a long journey with our beloved Kitty-Lizard, and it will be a longer one yet as he learns to live with immortality. That story, however will be told in glimpses. Vree will be spending a long while at the great Library, and while we’ll still see him in the occasional cameo, this will be his last journey as a main character.

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HGE - UNconventional: (FULL COLLECTION)(CLOSED!)

Firebursts (Subscriber Only!)

Hot and Cold

Splish Splash

Furnace Rumble (Subscriber Only!)

Aftermath

Duel Honor (Subscriber Only!)

Unexpected Imperial (Subscriber Only!)

At the Crossroads (Subscriber Only!)

Much Better, Much Worse

Four More

Armed Disarmed

Crunch and Crack (Subscriber Only!)

Family Home

Ancient Pine

Match Unlit

Drink and Dish

Skull-carved

It Means Vampire (Subscriber Only!)

Lordly Presentation

Deep Shoal (Subscriber Only!)

Attack of Savages

Fine Wood Shavings

World Wide Web

In Finite

White Scales Fall

Blooming Vines

Twin Sun Sand

Dragon at the Door

Knowledge Beloved

The Nature of Time (Subscriber Only!)

For He Is

Beneath Wings

Reality Shift

Elysium

Drops of Red (Subscriber Only!)

Making Jam

Favor Shed Scale (Subscriber Only!)

Jagged Judgement (Subscriber Only!)

Falling Flowers (Subscriber Only!)

Two Rivers

Styx

For Eternity

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MASTERLIST

#Writing #Lee Hadan #fantasy #scifi #spilled ink #writing prompts

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panickingpansexuality · 2 years ago

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Spring Rituals

Elliot x Shane x Sebastian X Reader (she/they) pronouns FEM body.

Gif not mine.

Kinks involved

Breeding

Marking

Oral fixation

Degradation

Praising

One spring morning a few days before the egg hunt the farmer woke up and set out to do their chores, when they opened the door they found all of them already done, the eggs and milk left out on her steps, the crops all watered, and paths cleared off.

They saw their letter box had it's flag up and went to go see who left a letter;

"Dear farmer (y/n),

I regret to inform you that I've missed a rather important detail in our cultural celebrations, you see very year a week before the festival we choose two men to go off and have sex so that Yoba will bless us with a bountiful year.

Well I forgot to inform the gentlemen this year and while the letters have been sent they need someone to fornicate with to ensure the year will be prosperous. Would you be interested?

Please let me know ASAP

Mayor Lewis."

You've accepted the Quest

(Y/n) sat in their bedroom the next day, they were told three men would be coming, one to ensure that it was safe and consensual and two to fuck them.

Mayor Lewis sent her enough fabric so that they could make themselves either new underwear and or a lacey little outfit (they picked the outfit), light pink like the flowers that would grow very soon, after that he told them that they had to be ready by nine sharp, the men would most likely be with them all day.

The door opened with the spare key (y/n) had given Mayor Lewis so that he could give it to the men coming over.

(Y/n) felt their heart leapt in their throat, they stood up quickly, their hands nervously fidgeting in front of them.

The door opened revealing Elliott, Shane, and Sebastian, the three of them entered closing the door, each of them took her body in like it was the most beautiful sight they've ever seen.

(Y/n) felt suddenly embarrassed, they covered themselves the best they could from the men, one of them being their crush.

"Hello darling." Elliott said stepping forward, he took off his jacket and dropped it over them.

"Are you ok with this?" He asked softly.

"Of course they are." Shane grumbled, "they wouldn't have said yes otherwise."

"Go sit off your hangover jackass." Sebastian glared at him.

Shane grumbled and brought a chair into the bedroom..

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" (Y/n) asked, holding Elliott's jacket.

"Water." Shane said, "the two you pick are going to need a lot of it."

"I-I have to pick who fucks me?"

Elliott found himself blushing while Shane laughed, Sebastian adjusted his stance against the wall.

"Yes dear," Sebastian said, "Whoever you want (y/n) that's who you'll get, and we stop whenever you want to."

"Any other questions?" He asked

(Y/n) nodded.

"So do you guys do this with every person in town?"

"Not usually." Shane says, "most of the time we go to the city, most of the time of the men who are close are married they just fuck their spouses. We get a test to make sure we're all clean before going out to do anything."

"Oh.." (y/n) said feeling their skin turn red.

"So it won't be all of you fucking me?"

"No," Elliott said, "not unless you want to, you pick which two of us have some fun and then once we've gotten you to a completely blissed out state you'll pick whoever attempts to impregnate you."

(Y/n) squeaked and Elliott chuckled, placing a kiss on their forehead, his hand reached up to their lower part of their stomach with a heated gaze they looked back up at the farmer.

"It doesn't have to take," he said, "So long as we try the rituals complete and if you want we all go on normally, like it never happened."

(Y/n) looked up at Elliott, nerves racking their brain and the thought of them and Elliott going back to being friends after something like this hurt more than they thought.

"I'll get the waters." They said handing Elliot back his jacket, he took it and the three of them watched the farmer bend down and grab four gallons of water from her fridge onto the table, their ass looked so good in the little lace undies that Sebastian knew they had designed.

(Y/n) grabbed four cups from her cabinet and set them out on the table.

"So…no hard feelings to who doesn't get picked right?"

"Absolutely." The three of them said.

(Y/n) took a deep breath and said:

"Elliott and Sebastian."

"Thank you sweetheart." Shane said, "I'm a little too hungover for that."

(Y/n) giggled, they noticed the warm look on Elliott's face when they smiled.

Sebastian crept up behind them and held their from behind, he smiled into her hair and left a kiss.

"I'm ready when you are princess." He told them,

(Y/n) smirked pressed their ass against his crotch feeling the lump beneath it, he groaned and started kissing her neck.

"Naughty little thing."

Elliot walked towards them, taking off his socks and shoes, leaving them scattered on the floor, his tie was next and then his shirt.

Sebastian started to rock his hips behind the person who leaned into the touch, they pressed their thighs together seeing Elliott walk towards them with half his shirt undone.

"I'm happy it's you." He said before crashing his lips to theirs, Elliot's hands crawled the sides of your body barely touching you, once his hands found your breasts they circled them lightly with his finger tips before grouping them, (y/n) let out a breathy moan arching their body Into his touch, behind them Sebastian slipped a hand up to the strap of their outfit and pulled it down to their shoulder.

"You want the bed sweetheart?" Sebastian asked, "Or do you want us somewhere else?"

The possibilities sky rocketed into their head, on the floor like animals, in the shower, or maybe outside with the twigs and pebbles scraping their back along with their nails.

Sebastian pressed a kiss to the tip of their right ear and bit down gently on it.

"Bed." (Y/n) whimpered.

"You wanna be tied up?" Sebastian asked, they moaned and shook their head.

"Not this round."

Shane shifted in his seat, adjusting his pants to be more comfortable.

Sebastian pulled you into the bed and played with your boobs while grinding up into you, the both of you dry humping each other until Elliott was finished getting undressed, you clenched your thighs together at the sight of him. Sebastian chuckled and moved his hand down into your panties fingers gently caressing your clit.

You gasped and arched into his hand your body begging for more.

Sebastian pulled his hand out and you whined, Elliott pulled you to your feet and whispered in your ear.

"Take this pretty little thing off (y/n)."

You smirk and gently push him to the bed, Sebastian's already quickly getting undressed you wait until he's finished before you slowly start to take off your own outfit.

All eyes were on you, completely and fully aware of what you were doing to them. When you toss the garment aside you look over at Shane who's eyeing you up and down.

"Shane," you coo. "I'm alright if you play with yourself during this."

The other two look over at him and agree, with you that's all the initiative Shane needs before dropping his pants, you grab a bottle of lotion from the nightstand and hand it over to him.

"I can see your slick glistening on your thighs Darling." Elliott says, "Are you truly that excited?"

"Not as excited as she's gonna be." Sebastian says, tapping a spot on the bed beside him.

"Let me eat you out princess."

You swear your legs shake as you walk over and move to sit on the bed, Sebastian gently maneuvers you to the middle of the bed and spread your legs as wide as they can go..

"Elliott," you say, "Let me suck you off."

Elliott flushed and Sebastian kisses the inside of your thighs with a smile.

"Such a generous little slut." He whispered before giving your pussy a quick lick that led to you arching up into him with a gasp, Sebastian chuckled and held your hips down.

"Stay still for me whore."

He let one hand go and went to finger you as he ate you out and chuckled when he noticed how wet you got.

"Elliott pretty slut likes being degraded."

"Go easy on her Sebastian." Elliott said sitting beside your head, he gently put a hand on your cheek before kissing your lips.

"She's being so good for us."

You moaned and as Sebastian continued his meal, you opened your mouth for Elliott as he inserted himself, with legs on either side of your head.

It wasn't difficult to take him down, when he inserted himself you did your best to suck him down moaning around his cock as Sebastian continued to eat you out. Elliott used the headboard to help him bounce into your throat, his back slightly hunched as one hand was on the bed holding on tightly to yours.

It wasn't long before Elliott started becoming incredibly vocal, the moans going straight to the knot in your stomach.

When Elliott releases you do too, the feeling of his warm cum in your mouth turns you on a bit more than anything.

Elliott tries to pull off of you before he drowns you in what he has, but you suck it down eagerly. It has almost ready to go again.

When he hops off he looks down at Sebastian who is still going to town on your pussy.

"Sebastian," Elliott pants out, "You must try her mouth."

Sebastian pulls himself away from you pussy with a wet kiss before asking;

"Is that where you want me now cumslut?"

You breathlessly nod and Elliott flips you over so your shaky knees are on the bed and Sebastian is sitting against the headboard.

"Show me what you got princess." Sebastian says, you give him a smile and immediately go down to tease the tip, you take a hand and start to give him a handjob as well, not skipping his balls.

"Fuck." Sebastian curses out.

You start to moan around his dick when Elliott begins his assault on your pussy, almost immediately do his fingers go into find your g-spot.

You then start to go down on Sebastian trying to take him down to the hilt.

"Fuck (y/n)." He moans your name like a prayer, you keep going, as you go down on his dick your hand continues it's motions where it can.

"I'd put a ring on their finger just for their mouth." Elliott tells Sebastian, "and this fucking pussy tastes like heaven."

"Fucking gonna make me cum early, little slut." Sebastian says reaching down to start playing with your nipples.

"That's what happened to me." Elliott says laughing, "this pussy is gonna be a dream to be in. Better than I'd imagined."

Sebastian and Shane laugh as you look up at Sebastian confused, he gently puts a hand under your chin and asks:."Can I fuck your mouth?"

Wordlessly you nod and he chuckles.

"Just tap my thigh twice if you want me out ok?"

Again you nod, and he grabs both sides of your head and starts fucking your mouth.

You felt jolts of pleasure running through your body, your eyes overflowed with tears hearing the men groan and moan for how well you were doing.

Sebastian continued fucking up into your mouth until he pulled off of you and pumped himself s few times before cumming on your face, you leaned down and licked what was left from his dick.

Sebastian then pulled you forward and kissed you passionately.

"Flip her over Sebastian." Elliott said, with a glint in his eye Sebastian looked over at him and smirked, your head was now by his dick and your legs spread wide for Elliott, his fingers found your g-spot easily again, his body was over the lower half of yours, and he out the leg furthest from him over his shoulder.

"Be a good girl baby," Elliott said and he quickened his place on it watching as you started to scream from pleasure.

"Good fucking girl." Elliott said, "You're so wet baby can you cum for me? Let it out, let it all out." Sebastian leaned forward and played with both of your breasts

"Go on slut, show him how fucking dumb you'll be for a good fuck."

Their voices of praise and degradation, and what they did to your body quickly became too much for you and you felt a damn burst in you stomach.

When you came back Elliott was whispering praises to you and going back down to your pussy which makes you whine, he's gently rubbing all over your body.

under your head Sebastians leaning back playing with your hair and whispering how pretty and good you are.

"Want you in." You said starting to cry, "Please Elliott please."

Sebastian leaned forward and wiped your tears.

"You want him to breed you honey?"

You nodded and sobbed into his hand.

"Good slut." He said "Keep crying baby, I don't think Elliott thinks you've earned it yet."

"I have." You cry out looking up at him.

"Please Seb, please I'll be good, I'll be so fucking good just lemme have in me."

"Aww princess." Sebastian said mockingly. "You're begging to the wrong guy."

He gently coaxes you to turn around and helps you up to your knees, you slide your legs apart until your bare pussy is on your sheets.

Elliott's now off the bed looking down at you expectantly.

With half lidded eyes you look up at him and start begging.

"Please Elliott, I want you to be the one to breed me first, I want to feel you so deep in me that I'll memories the shape of your cock in my pussy please try and make me pregnant, you won't have to take care of the baby it's my job and I'll wait whenever you wanna fuck me again and leave with more of your babies to take care of."

"Fuck Princess." Sebastian groans out.

"Who do you belong to?" Elliott says leaving down to whisper in your ear.

"You." You whine out.

"Gonna let me breed you?" He asks pushing you back on the bed, his left knee on the bed.

You whine and nod.

"Gonna let me make you a mommy? Fucking let me marry you just cause I'm gonna get you drunk off if this dick?"

"Yes.." you moan out.

"Yes, who?"

"Yes sir." You say holding up your legs.

"Fuck.".Sebastian and Shane groan out.

"Now you gotta let Sebastian have fun too." Elliott says, "You've been such a generous baby, I think you can be again."

"Please " you say looking over at Sebastian.

"I'll watch first baby." Sebastian says pinching a nipple. "But then if you want I'll fuck your pussy so hard that you'll need to hire someone to help you with your chores this week."

Elliott chuckles and Sebastian comes over and kisses him on the cheek.

"Give her a good time." He says.

With that Elliott pulls your legs over his shoulders, his dick slowly sliding into you, the two of you letting out a groan, he waits a few minutes, leaning down to kiss you and play with your breasts.

"Do I feel as good as you imagined?" You ask breathlessly

He chuckles and kisses your cheek.

"You feel better than that (y/n)."

he pulls almost all the way out your pussy gripping at him to stay in before he slams back in, you moan as he starts his pace.

"I'd like to make you squirt again." He pants out. "To make you squirt as I'm getting you pregnant."

Elliott reaches down to your clit and gently starts to rub it, you felt like your entire body was on fire, His gentle but hard thrusts were turning you to gush, he leaned forward and started suching the side of your neck.

"Pretty little mama." He whispered mindlessly, "I'm going in unsure that you have my babies by Christmas, I'll have you pregnant walking down the aisle, everyone in this fucking town will know you're mine. Mine."

You tired to agree but your words were mumbled too close together all you could fell was Elliott's dick and the pleasure it gave you. So good. So good. Everything so good. You wanted more, you're pretty sure you were begging for it.

"Fucked her stupid already Elliott." Shane laughed, "Pretty little slut." Elliott whispered, "My pretty little slut."

"Sebastian." Elliott said, "Their mouth is lonely, let them jack you off at least."

You whined in agreement, Sebastian smiled and first kissed Elliott on the mouth in a quick and passionate kiss, that Elliott groaned into, then he came and kissed your lips, holding the side of your jaw he spat in it and you held out your tongue to show him.

Him and Elliott chuckled, Elliott kissing your breasts as praise.

"So fucking good for us." He mumbled.

"Swallow." Sebastian said and you did, then you stuck your tongue back out panting and moaning like a dog. Sebastian knelt before you and you moved to Jack him off while Elliott fucked you.

Soon you felt the damn burst in you again and you were begging Elliott to cum in you.

"Elliott," you moaned, "Daddy, please."

"Don't worry baby," he huffed, "I shall make your body look even more pretty, my beautiful baby don't worry."

His hips started to stutter a little bit, his release getting closer and closer.

When he came inside you would have screamed if all the sound was knocked out you replaced only small moans.

Your grip on Sebastian only faltered once, Elliott pulled himself out and gently maneuvered you onto your shaking knees, looking up at Sebastian you kiss the top of his dick before swallowing it down.

Elliott enters you again, his pace is slow, he leans forward leaving a trail of kisses down to the middle of your spine before he starts back up again.

"You feel so good." Elliott whispered into your neck.

"I feel as if I need to stay in you forever."

You moan, Elliott kisses the side of your cheek and continues to thrust into you,the pleasure isn't stopping you feel like it's increasing, your hands are gripping the sheets as the two men use you for their pleasure, Sebastian pulls off of you just as he's cumming, your hands shake and fall once he's finished, leaving your lower half up for Elliott to use.

The sound of skin hitting skin and moans are the only few noises left around the room, you're begging, the sound of "Please, please please!" Starts to fill the room but you have no idea what you're begging for and then he cums in you and the feeling has you tipped over the edge.

Shaking you collapse on the bed, Elliott collapses against you, pulling your he looks at your sweaty blissed out face.

"Break." Elliott says, "You need a break before we go on."

You look like you're about to cry, Elliott pushes the hair on your face aside and starts to kiss you, on your lips by your eyes all the way down to your breasts.

"Can you walk baby?" Elliott asks softly, you only whine in response.

"I'll get some food going." Shane says getting up.

"I'll wash them up." Elliott says softly.

He gently picks you up bridal style before going to the bathroom where you use the restroom and Elliott starts a bath for you, with plenty of bubbles.

"Robin made you the biggest tub I've ever seen." He chuckles out, you hum snd lean forward kissing up his arm to his shoulder.

"Where's Sebastian?" You try to ask but it comes out slurred.

"I'll go get him honey." Elliott says gently caressing your cheek, he leaves you alone to try and regain your thoughts. Your bathtub is big, big enough for maybe four adults.

Sebastian comes in and smiles at you, you grab his hand and kiss his fingers. He smiles softly at you and helps you stand. Wordlessly the three of you go into the bubble filled tub, your leaning against Sebastian and Elliott is leaning against you, small kisses and praises are shared between the three of you.

"Do we get to do more?" You ask.

Elliott chuckles and kisses your cheek.

"If you want too Darling."

"We've got all day," Sebastian whispers, "the ritual is technically complete but if you need more then we'll give you whatever you want. Ok?"

You nod and give each of them a slow kiss on the lips.

"I gotta tell you guys what I want to do." You say.

In the kitchen Shane's made a frozen pizza for the three of you, he kinda hopes you'll eat in the bed or the couch, considering that you've been worked like crazy today.

He hears the bathroom door open and sees Sebastian carrying you out, before setting you on the bed.

A twinge of jealousy sparks into Shane but he swallows it.

"Hey Shane." Elliott says going in, "(y/n) wants to speak to you."

Confused, Shane goes in to find Sebastian wrapping a blanket around your slightly wet body.

"Hey," you say quietly. "Can I suck you off?"

Shane sputters as he hears the other two men laugh.

"You don't have to." Shane says with a red face

You give him a mean look before reaching out you fingers, grabbing his belt loop and pulling him forward.

"I want to." You say looking up at him for approval.

Shane's breath catches in his throat he looks down at your beautiful face and nods, you smile warmly before taking the zipper with your teeth and pulling them out, Shane fishes out his mostly hard cock for you. You lean forward giving the tip a kiss before starting off.

Shane moans silently and closes his eyes, Sebastian goes in to finish the food and Elliott comes in to sit beside you, as you slurp Shane down, he smiles at you and moves your hair out of the way, kissing your shoulders and gently rubbing his hands up your body.

"You're doing so good for him." Elliott whispered, "So fucking sweet for everyone, you're our good girl (y/n)."

Elliott looks up at Shane and smirks.

"Let it out Shane," Elliott says, "they like knowing they're' being good, let them hear you."

"Fuck." Shane groans out, "You're so fucking good. (Y/n), fuck (y/n), oh fuck." He chants your name like a prayer.

You pull your mouth off but continue using your hand as you leave a quick lick with your tongue against his shaft, he curses and tries not to smile at you.

"Little tease." He buffs out.

"Cum in my mouth." You say softly, "Need you down my throat."

The two men groan, as you take Shane in, Elliott continues to kiss your body, starting to leave little bite marks just to hear your moans, Shane's breaths are becoming heavier, he's gripping his hair, the other hand off to his side gripping the headboard. He feels like his feet are going to fall from the floor, he's moaning your name his hips soutter and then he cums cursing the entire time.

You pull away, sucking everything you can down.

A few moments later Shane down at you panting, he leans down and kisses your forehead.

"Thanks for that (y/n).." he says gently "You did so good."

You preen under his praise

"Foods ready." Sebastian calls.

"I'll bring you a plate." Shane says, "you need to rest."

"I can rest on the couch." You suggest.

"Ok." He says. You walk in on wobbly legs to the couch, Elliott on one side of you, Sebastian on the other and Shane sitting down on the floor, the television blaring the news.

"So." Shane says, "what else are we doing before we all head out."

"Well." Sebastian says, "(y/n) wants me to fuck them and then wants Elliott to stay the night, and by morning Robin will probably have to do repairs."

Shane is quiet for a moment, he looks up and see you cuddled closer to Elliott than Sebastian and nods.

"Ok."

Once the food is done the three of you go back to the bedroom, Sebastian's laying on the bed, you between his legs putting the condom on with your mouth. All of you are clean but they were sticking to one rule: only one of them gets to cum in your pussy.

Once the condoms in, Sebastian leans forward and kissed you passionately, laying you down on the bed, he coaxed you to your side facing Elliott and Shane, he hooks a leg under the one facing the ceiling and opens you up with his hands, a generous amount of lube already on them.

You lean into him moaning softly, Sebastian kisses the side of your neck before pushing into you.

"Fuck." He curses "Elliott was right about your pussy."

He pushes his hips forward into you, your eyes closed savoring every burst of pleasure that ore through you.

"Watch them." Sebastian says,

You open your eyes, they look half lidded and fogged over, your mouth hangs open as your moans fills the room, you see Elliott's cock hardening and you moan, you need him in you it doesn't matter how but you need him and he can see it too, he smirks at you and crosses his arms watching you write in pleasure.

Sebastian's cock is filling you so nicely making wish that the condom was off so he took could fill you but these men had given you every wish had made you so fucked stupid that you wanted to give in to every request they had.

Sebastian pounded into you, each thrust made you feel better than the last your moans echoed freely as he licked the side of your neck.

"Such a good whore." Sebastian groaned, "opening up for all of us to use your pretty holes. Going dumb on our cocks, fucking cockslut."

"Imma cockslut." You slurred out.

"Good fucking slut." Sebastian huffed out.

"Gonna make you stupid in this dick, gonna make you wet enough for Elliott he's gonna slip in easily, give you fucking twins."

You moaned out into him, your body tightening around his dick. Sebastian began to grip you hard enough to leave bruises and you wanted them, you would have begged for them if you could.

His trusts grew faster, making your body limp, then his hand grabbed your throat cutting off some of your air.

"Yes, yes, yes." You slurred out, you felt the knot in your stomach coming undone, as Sebstians pace picked up.

His hips stuttered and he came you whined at the feeling of his warm cum in your pussy but not in your pussy.

Sebastian pulled out, leaving little kisses against your skin as you two parted.

"If he doesn't give you a baby by the end of this year." Sebastian whispered leaving a trail of kisses up to your ear, "come visit me and I'll give you triplets."

You laughed and shook your head, he gave you a long slow kiss that left you arching up into him before he went to wash up and put his clothes on, Elliott came into bed with you and smiled warmly at you.

"(y/n)," he says softly, "My (y/n)." he kisses your arms and bites and sucks down the middle of your forearm. He pulls away and watches your happy face.

"My Elliott." You smiled, he leaned down and kissed your lips slowly, wanting to worship every inch of your body until he was the only one you thought of, the only one whose scent was left on your body.

When Sebastian came out of the bathroom, he saw you two were lovingly making out, the half of him that wanted to stay left when he decided to go get some food,Shane left with him.

The setting rays of the sun touched your bodies in the bed as you two laid their kissing and touching one another, your hands found his nipples and began to mess with them, the other going to grip his hair, making him moan into the kiss.

"Another day," you say, trying to make it sound coherent. "I wanna peg you."

Elliott answered without a second thought:

"As you wish."

"But today," he said, gripping your thighs, and flipping you to your back. "I'm going to make sure that when you can walk again, my baby will be in you."

He leans down and kisses you as he inserts himself again, his hands grip your waist and pull them upwards so that the back of your head is on the pillows but he's on his knees with your legs in the air over his shoulders.

His pace grows a little faster than what it was earlier, the love is still there, he's kissing your legs while treating your body like a Fleshlight.

Your minds back to the place where you can think only about Elliott's dick, and those two words are the only thing in your mind.

"Elliott's dick.." you mutter out not realizing you said it, you say it like a mantra as he hits every spot inside of you perfectly, like he was meant to be in there.

"Made my beautiful baby dumb again?" He asks with a chuckle, you blush and cover your mouth, he growls at the action and quickens his pace so your hand sfky from your mouth to the bed sheets where you can grip them, your body arches up into him and you scream out your moans.

After the long day of fucking you two have had, your both close, Elliott reaches down and plays with your clit, quickly it becomes too much and your spasming around him your vision goes white for a moment but you feel him cumming.

"Fuck baby, (y/n), my darling, I'm gonna marry you, I swear it fuck, won't let you have anyone else's babies, need you to have mine, need you to be mine."

You're moaning, your heart wanting to hold onto those promises, but your body releases them with how much you're shaking.

Then when you come too again, Elliott's between your legs cleaning you up with a warm cloth, you moan out happily.

Elliott smiled, putting the cloth in the bathroom he comes back out and helps you up, you see yourself in the mirror, your body littered in his hickeys and bruises most likely from Sebastian. Once you use the restroom, you grab another cloth and wipe down Elliott's thighs and dick.

When you go back out, your body immediately goes to the bed and curls up in the blankets, Elliott comes back with some water and fruit bars.

His arms are warm and you feel completely safe in them, one hand reaching down to your stomach, gently going up to grab one of your hands and bring it up to his lips for a kiss.

"I meant what I said." He whispered, "Every bit of it."

You look up at him with tired eyes and kiss his lips slowly and full of promise.

As you two eat and drink you look over at him with a smile;

"Maybe take me to dinner first and then I'll let you marry me."

Elliott chuckles and pulls you into his chest.

"I'm glad it was you." You tell him, "I saw you enter and I felt completely safe and I never expected.."

"That I felt the same or that I'd bruise your cervix?"

"Both." You say sleepily.

"Go to sleep (y/n)." Elliott says kissing the top of your head, "I'm not leaving you."

"Wanna stay up and talk to you.." you mumble.

"I do as well, but you need your sleep my brilliant lover. Ok?"

You nod and quickly fall asleep, knowing that you're the luckiest person in Stardew Valley, and that the year will be profitable for the whole town.

65 notes · View notes

phasmattack · 2 years ago

Text

Visitors (a 65 story) Chapter 4: Beginnings

Read Chapter 3

Pairing: Captain Mills x Fem Reader

Fic Summary: 65 million years ago, Captain Mills (played by Adam Driver) crashes a passenger transport ship into Earth during the Cretaceous period. You are among three survivors of the crash. Together with Mills, you must make your way to the only shot of extraction through an unknown terrain riddled with deadly prehistoric creatures.

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Read on Ao3

___

Mills

Ammo, rations, click bombs, medpacks, water jugs, perimeter spikes, rope, navigational unit. Mills mentally checks the boxes as he shoves the necessities into his large canvas pack and a few of the lighter goods into a smaller pack for you. He lifts the weapon off its charging stand, checking that the sensor reads a full charge. Slinging it onto his shoulder, he returns to the cockpit a final time to issue an updated (and far less bleak) message to the potential rescue crew.

“This is Commander Mills of Charter 373. I’ve located two survivors; a child and…” he pauses, glancing over his shoulder to see you sitting cross legged on the ground with Koa, trying to coax her into eating a ration, “and a woman. They’re uninjured. The atmosphere here is breathable, but the land seems to be difficult to traverse and full of hostiles. I will be escorting them to the crash site of our escape pod to meet at your coordinates.”

He puts down the communicator, and walks up to you and Koa. You stand and he hands you the smaller pack. Koa stays seated, so he sighs and squats down to her level.

“Koa,” He tells her, “I need you to listen to me. You understand? Listen?” He points to his ear. She nods.

“There’s something alien out there,” He meets your eyes, “something dangerous.”

He watches you shudder, smoothing down the goosebumps on your arms, and based on Koa’s reaction he figures she gets the gist.

“We need to be quiet,” He puts a finger to his lips, and Koa repeats the gesture, “and move.” He motions a flat hand sideways, and she does the same. Mills nods to her, searching her innocent eyes for any hesitation. He offers her a hand and she accepts, using him as leverage to stand.

“You ready?” He turns to face you. Your hand adjusts the strap of the pack slung across your back.

“Ready.” You return confidently, with a small shake in your voice. He gestures for Koa to depart down the ramp first, with you closely following. As you pass him his eyes drop to your new attire.

“Are-” He stutters, trying to make sense of this confusing feeling, “are those my pants?”

“Ah, yeah…” You answer, a tinge of blush spreading up your neck and to your cheeks, “mine were pretty tattered, I hope that’s okay?”

He opens his mouth to reply but before he can speak you slip in, “I-I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. I can go change out of them quick!”

“No!” He tries to cover the unintended force of his voice with an awkward cough, “No. It’s fine.”

“Okay.” Your face grows a deeper shade of red before you quickly turn and follow Koa down the ramp. A small smile creeps onto his face that he has to force off, reminding himself that this is an inappropriate time for these thoughts.

____

The humidity of the forest was unexpected, sweat beads down Mills’s forehead and pools on his lower back as he clears a path for your group and carefully eyes your surroundings. You’re making good time, his navigational unit read that the escape pod was 15 kilometers north and you’ve already cleared 2 kilometers, only stopping once for water.

He swats a hand around his head as he pushes through a swarm of insects, clapping one against the back of his neck when he feels a bite. His hand returns covered in stringy guts and slime, earning a gagging sound from you and a melodic laugh from Koa. He grins, turning on his heel and holding his hand out like a zombie towards Koa.

She shrieks with laughter and darts away from him, hitting the deck and hiding behind your legs.

“Oh no you don’t” You giggle, separating your legs to reveal her hiding place. He crawls between them and chases her away with the threat of his filthy hand, bucking you up onto his back in the process. You squeal in surprise, arms flailing as you slide back down to your feet.

His arms go flailing too when he trips over a well concealed root and lands smack on his back. This turns Koa’s giggles into a roar of laughter. He shoots her a dirty look but hints a smile while he scrapes his sticky hand against the root.

The small moment of normalcy is interrupted by the desperate screech of an animal, like a high pitched cry for help. You all freeze, and Koa mutters something unintelligible before darting away from you and Mills and towards the bellowing creature.

“Koa!” You yell to her as Mills echoes, “Stop!”

He jumps to his feet and goes flying after her, jumping over roots and shoving through brush, with you right behind. He rounds a tree after Koa and finds her kneeling before a pit of some sort of tar-like substance that has trapped a young creature. It’s the size of a large dog, with a hard armored shell and small tusks. Koa cries out as she grips the animal, using all her strength to pull him free of the tar.

“Koa,” Mills warns, crashing to his knees, “This is not a good idea.”

He glances around instinctively looking for the creature’s mother, and watches as you join Koa’s side and help her yank on the animal.

“Mills!” You plead.

He swears and grabs onto the creature’s rear, giving it one final boost out of the pit. You all collapse, out of breath. Koa claps her hands in celebration and watches the young beast stomp away unharmed. Mills shakes his head and meets your eyes, giving you a questioning look. You just shrug in reply.

The sharp roars of several predators echo as they burst from the bushes, attacking the newly freed young animal. Mills is thrown into action and grabs Koa by the stomach, pulling her against a tree and throwing a hand over her mouth as she sobs in terror. He clamps his hand to muffle her cries. He holds back the urge to yell for you, his breath catching until he spots you behind another tree on the other side of the carnage. Your frightened eyes meet his and you scoot further behind the tree.

Satisfied from their hunt, the predatory creatures become more interested in the sound of crunched leaves from behind your tree. Mills weighs his options as he sees them creep towards your hiding place. He could make some kind of distraction, but that would put Koa at risk. He could leave her against this tree and pray she doesn’t make a squeak while he defends you, surprising the creatures. His chest heaves and his mind races, time to make a decision coming to an end as they inch closer to discovering you there, defenseless. He makes a move to stand, Koa gripping against him, when the deafening cry of an desperate mother searching for her child spooks the pack of predators enough to chase them off. They run, dragging away their prize meal.

As soon as the coast is clear, Mills stumbles over himself running in your direction with Koa in tow. When he reaches you, you’re steadying yourself on the tree with a hand on your chest trying to slow your heart.

“Are you okay?” He pants, eyes darting all over you looking for injuries.

“I’m okay,” You promise, giving a weak smile to reassure him. He clears his throat, reaching back to pull Koa towards him. He holds her face in his hands, wiping away stray tears with his thumbs.

“You HAVE to listen to me,” He begs her, “do you understand?!”

She sniffles, “ah-ti la kay.”

Mills takes that as a yes. He turns around and scoops her onto his back, ensuring that she won’t be dashing off anytime soon. He looks at you, silently asking if you’re ready to continue on. You take a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other.

____

Mills falls in step behind you, his footprints dwarfing yours as he follows your trail. Stopping every now and then to relocate the signal, you both forge ahead with much higher levels of caution. Koa is asleep atop Mill’s back, and after hours of carrying her he’s grown so used to the extra weight he doesn’t even notice it.

“I’m sorry I had to lie to her.” He speaks, the first words between you since picking up your journey. He keeps replaying your look of surprise at him, hinted with disappointment, when he told Koa her parents were at the mountain’s peak.

“It’s complicated.” You reassure him, “She’ll thank you one day.”

“Even if she could understand me, I’m not sure I would’ve had the heart to tell her.” He admits, “How do I explain to a kid that she’s just become an orphan?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re saving her life.”

He pauses. “Did you have anyone? In the crash?”

You shake your head. “No. I was traveling alone.”

He’s silent, leaving you an opportunity to explain without prying.

“I-” You hesitate, clearly choosing words carefully, “I was leaving. Starting a new job, a new life. I wanted to start over.”

“Can’t get a fresher start than halfway across the galaxy.” He jokes, gauging your reaction. You chuckle. “My thoughts exactly.”

During this short conversation you’ve fallen back from walking ahead of Mills to beside him. He watches you as you say, “I saw a picture back on the ship of your daughter. She’s beautiful.”

He visibly stiffens, eyes glazing over. “Yeah. Yeah she is.”

You seem to cringe to yourself for tapping on such a sensitive topic, and he mentally kicks himself for coldly cutting the conversation short because of it. It’s just that he hasn’t spoken about Nevine to anyone since starting this job almost two years ago. He usually prefers not to even dwell on her in his own mind.

As if slicing through the tension, the navigational unit beeps twice and warns ‘SIGNAL LOST’. You both come to a stop as Mills rips it off his pack and presses buttons, trying to reset the signal. The unit buzzes in response, and repeats ‘SIGNAL LOST’.

“Damn it.” He huffs, smacking his palm against the unit. Unsurprisingly, this does nothing to help. He squints up at the thick treeline above you.

“I’ve gotta get higher ground. Stay here.” He instructs, slinging off his pack and weapon and handing both to you. He tucks the navigational unit in his pocket and wipes his hands on his pants, readying himself to scale one of the massive trees. He climbs branch by branch, testing the sturdiness of each with a foot before committing his weight to it. He constantly peers down at you and Koa to check on you, and when he’s satisfied you’re not in imminent danger he pulls himself up another foot.

Small branches scrape his skin as he pushes through the treeline, giving himself a clear view of the mountain to the north. He’s relieved to see that you’ve made some progress, the escape pod is finally in his line of sight. He hooks a hand into a crook in the tree to hold himself while his other hand digs out the unit from his pocket. Flipping it open, he scans the pod in the distance. ‘SIGNAL ACQUIRED’ it beeps. Mills breathes a sigh of relief.

As he moves to close the unit, it beeps another message ‘IRREGULARITY DETECTED’.

“What the hell?” He zooms the screen out, following the red line until it leads him to a large body of rock in the distant sky. That’s gotta be part of the asteroid belt that took out the ship. The rock is too distant for him to scan the path of, so he makes a mental note to check it again later. Flipping the navigational unit closed, he slips it back in his pocket and shifts his weight to begin climbing down.

He feels a strange sensation when he removes his hand from the crook of the tree and looks up to see his hand covered in what looks to be spiders on steroids. Mills jolts, lifting his hand to shake them off as the sudden movement causes the branch he’s standing on to snap. He yells, clawing at the trunk of the tree to find any spot to grip but he’s unsuccessful. Mills careens down further and further, snapping branch by branch on his fall until his body slams, the sounds of bones cracking and a powerful thud as he lands right in front where you sit waiting for him.

Chapter 5

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destinyimage · 1 year ago

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Christian Witchcraft: The Spirit Warring Against You in These Last Days

What is witchcraft? For most of my life, when I heard the word witchcraft, I thought of medicine men in the heart of Africa who cast spells on people.

I had heard about covens of witches in the United States and other parts of the world who would chant and curse churches, Christian marriages, or political figures they didn’t agree with, but I had never met a witch. I acknowledged the existence of witchcraft in theory, but I had no firm idea of what that meant, and I never believed anyone I knew was involved in witchcraft, especially other Christians. Christians operating in witchcraft? No way!

It wasn’t until 2021, when I faced the most severe spiritual warfare of my life, that I began to understand the inner workings and power of witchcraft. Is there witchcraft in Africa and other parts of the world that involves spells, magic, sorcery, and other forms of divination? Absolutely! However, many Christians practice witchcraft every day and have no idea that they’ve partnered with the devil in broad daylight. This “acceptable” form of witchcraft and the demonic agenda fanning its flame is far more subtle and powerful than occult practices. When we deny its existence, politely give evil a pass, or wrongly label this form of spiritual warfare, its authority grows. We have no idea how to defend ourselves, nor even the recognition that we’re partnered with it.

A Hard Lesson

Witchcraft draws more power when it is hidden. It runs like a generator, converting one form of spiritual energy into another. There are three clues that reveal the presence of witchcraft: manipulation, intimidation, and domination. The overarching goal of witchcraft is to dominate someone else, to command influence, or exercise control over their behavior.

A few years ago, the national spotlight shined on our ministry with blinding intensity. Millions of people around the world were watching from the social media sidelines, and thousands of partners were financially supporting the call of God on our lives.

Suddenly, God adjusted our course, and I made a decision that led to a public trial in the media and a witch hunt in the church. We lost tens of thousands of dollars in monthly support overnight and received death threats as the rumor mill published stories full of lies and disinformation in print and on social media. I was public enemy number one in the body of Christ and became the punching bag of a failed political campaign, enduring gossip, slander, hatred, and humiliation at the hands of the same people who had championed and supported us weeks before.

I regrouped with the few friends I had left, prayed through the storm, invited the counsel of godly leaders, and followed the voice of the Holy Spirit into the unknown. Several months later, I accepted an invitation to speak at a national gathering of prophets, where I shared about the persecution we had endured. Several of the prophets approached me on the stage after I told our story and asked if they could pray for me. They said, “Jeremiah you are under the power of demonic witchcraft, and we need to break it off you.”

Their words caught me off guard, but I trusted the leading of the Holy Spirit. As they prayed, my body involuntarily responded to their declarations as the spirit of witchcraft loosed its hold upon my life. I shook, wept, and was visibly moved by their authoritative prayer. It was as if a thousand pounds had lifted off my chest. I could finally breathe again and think clearly. One of the prophets saw my mantle rejuvenate and decreed that God would give me a double portion for all the devil had stolen from me.

My life has not been the same since that day. I honestly thought I was just in a difficult season, and that somehow, I would get through it. I had no idea that the curses of angry Christians and the national media carried such weight. I had been buried underneath the power of witchcraft, and its deadly threats—intimidation, manipulation, and domination—had worn away my vitality and clarity. I was harassed and hounded by a mob of people who wanted me to shut up, quit the ministry, and never prophesy again. I was manipulated by Christian leaders and friends who wanted to commandeer my decisions and control my next steps.

Ultimately, the demonic agenda of this evil spirit wanted to call the shots and take me out completely. The truth is, it almost did! I am alive today, strengthened, encouraged, renewed, and full of vision and hope for the future because several prophets discerned that I was under a severe witchcraft attack, and they moved to break its paralyzing grip off my life. These prophets are a shining example of the warrior bride in the last days.

Prophetic Word

In a recent dream, I saw banners hanging in churches, hotels, and stadiums that read, “Deliverance is the children’s bread.” God said to me, “Where the casting out of devils has been shut down by the spirit of religion, I am now releasing a generation of revivalists who are going to resurrect My kingdom with power and authority that will make deliverance normal, not abnormal.”

The Layers of Witchcraft

In 1 Samuel 15:23, we uncover the root of witchcraft. Samuel tells King Saul, “Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft.” In many versions of the Bible, the word is translated “divination.” Like a three-headed mythological monster, there are several different power centers in this evil spirit. Witchcraft provides the muscle and the horsepower. Divination is the revelatory arm that undergirds occultic practices like fortune telling. The final element is sorcery, which among other things, uses physical objects to control people.

Witchcraft is the result of rebellion. Wherever you uncover rebellion, look for witchcraft, because they are demonic twins. We live in a rebellious society that has deliberately rejected the righteous government of God in the Person of Jesus Christ. The result is cultural collapse and pervasive witchcraft. If you deliver a person from a spirit of rebellion, the spirit of witchcraft is lurking in the corner, trying to evade detection.

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Activation

A Christian who is assaulted by witchcraft will often have a variety of symptoms. Consider the following questions and rule out preexisting health conditions, chronic stress, or environmental factors. If you’ve been checked out by your doctor and you’re still experiencing these symptoms, it might be a witchcraft attack.

Are you disoriented or confused, perhaps even clumsy?

Have you lost your motivation?

Are you emotionally drained?

Do you feel like you perpetually have the flu?

Is your chest heavy and tight?

Do you have unexplainable changes in your blood pressure or heart rate?

Do you have nightmares or insomnia?

Are you forgetful?

Witchcraft in Families

Parents, do not allow your children to manipulate you. Your permissiveness will lead to their rebellion. Prodigal behavior is bound up in the heart of every child. “Train up a child in the way he should go, even when he grows older he will not abandon it” (Proverbs 22:6 NASB). Teaching your children to honor you prepares the soil of their hearts to receive the gospel. When we teach children healthy boundaries and discipline them appropriately, we keep them from the danger of the evil one and encourage them to die to themselves. This is an invitation into a submitted and supernatural life—a holy adventure!

Manipulation goes both ways. Parental possessiveness is a devastating form of control with far-reaching consequences. You are not your child’s god. Don’t make them into your image! Like stunted plants that don’t produce fruit, they will fail to grow into maturity as God intended. These Peter Pan Christians are stuck in their childhood and perpetually in need of parental approval and applause. Some time ago, I met a man in his thirties who was an itinerant preacher. He said to me, “Since I left home at the age of eighteen, no matter where I am in the world, I phone my mother every night.” I didn’t need to hear any more of the story. He was manipulated, trained in dependence, and forever tied to her apron strings. He was finally able to adjust his behavior without offending his mother, and without feeling guilty about it.

Another way parents manipulate their children is by exploiting their affection. “If you love mommy, you’ll clean up your room.” This is sinful and controlling language that enslaves children in false love. It subtly teaches them they were created for your will and pleasure instead of for God’s will and pleasure. The orphan spirit will prey on them, and they will learn obedience motivated by duty instead of obedience motivated by love. These little people-pleasers will appear well-behaved, but rebellion is deeply rooted in their hearts and will come out sideways years later.

Another form of witchcraft that roosts in families is temperamental love that comes and goes depending on how a child behaves. If love must be earned, it is conditional and contractual. This creates instability and insecurity and sets a child up to play a part in a performance that never ends. When the curtain finally goes down, these children are susceptible to a host of mental illnesses because they don’t know who they are or whose they are. The Father’s love pursues us, and is not earned, but freely given. “We love, because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19 NASB). Every child, even when they misbehave, should feel secure in their parents’ love. These deep roots of security will lead to good fruit.

Witchcraft in the Church

There are countless places for witchcraft to hide in our churches. The offering plate is a common one. Many pastors manipulate their congregations into giving, instead of addressing heart issues like greed, covetousness, and stinginess with solid biblical teaching. A church leader stands up at a conference and says, “There are five people here tonight who are going to give $500 each to this ministry.” One person after another stands up, until four individuals have pledged to give $500 each. Now everybody in the room is wondering, “Am I the fifth?” Eventually some poor guy stands up. Motivated by what? Righteousness? No. Guilt. God never motivates His people with guilt, but He will provoke them to jealousy if money is their first love.

In some extreme situations, fear tactics and open threats are used to control people’s behavior. In one situation, a pastor told his biggest donor, “If you leave this church your business will stop growing.” That businessman didn’t prosper for ten years because his pastor’s threats had cursed him. Proverbs 18:21 (NASB) says, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” While our words don’t create ex nihilo—out of nothing—like God’s words do, they are potent. If the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. So are the word curses of an unrighteous person. Gossip, slander, accusation, and curses are all forms of demonic prayer.

A demand for unquestioning loyalty is another form of witchcraft attack. “I’m your pastor, you have to obey me. If you don’t obey me, you’re disobeying God.” While it can be this overt, this type of manipulation is often more subtle and calculated. Consider the group of elders who told emerging leaders in their church that until a young leader’s character was tested by the death of a parent, they wouldn’t be qualified to participate in church leadership, which basically meant, “sit down and submit until we’re dead, too.” Tragically, many people who have grown up in demon daycares like this continue to mindlessly follow the person in front of them because that’s what the enemy taught them to do.

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the-traveling-poet · 1 year ago

Text

Semi-Sweet

Nominated to be ‘Official’ bartender for the night, you’re surprised to see just how radiant everyone’s smiles were when you poured them out another round. It made you feel useful; providing a small pleasure for your fellow comrades after all you’d been through.

But what surprised you more, was having Captain Levi accompany you for a drink after the party’s over.

Pairing: Levi x Bartender!Reader.

Warnings: Slow burn fluff, swearing, and alcohol consumption.

A/N: A requested fic from over in my Wattpad I felt like sharing lol.

“Another three shots of whiskey, please!”

Throwing a casual smile over your shoulder, you met the soldier's dilated eyes.

"Just a moment!" You reassured him as you poured another shot for some other soldier.

Despite the growing excitement of the men and women in the mess hall, you found yourself stressing to run back and forth to pour out new drinks for anyone who asked.

It had been Hange's idea, when Commander Erwin announced a celebration was in order for the scout's hard work and success in the recent expeditions outside the walls they'd been on.

They had pulled you aside, giddy with excitement as they adjusted their glasses further up their nose and spouted off to you about how you should be the official bartender for the night.

Of course, you had accepted the role easily. Your father had been a bartender back in the day, so you were familiar with the family business of mixing drinks and serving thirsty customers. The idea of being able to contribute something for the soldier's night of relaxation and fun had excited you.

You'd always admired them before joining the regime, all those years ago, and even more so now that you'd worked beside so many brave and loyal people.

Naturally, you'd want to give back to them all in some way or another for their comradeship.

So there you were, behind a counter in the kitchen mixing drinks and pouring your heart into each cup you grabbed.

Turning to grab the bottle of whisky for the gentleman waiting for you, you nearly dropped the glass container in surprise.

"Shit Captain, how long have you been standing in here?"

Having spent years in the Scouts and promoted to the position of a captain, the two of you were acquainted and able to talk less formally around one another. You'd fought together, trained together, and even lead your separate squads side by side through titan territory over the years.

Yet you'd always wished to be closer.

Levi scoffed slightly and pushed off the wall he had been leaning on.

"A few minuets."

He seemed slightly disgruntled, but seeing the glare he shot out at the increasingly rowdy crowd in the mess hall, you understood completely. He wasn't a fan of large social gatherings.

"Anything I can do to help you?" you offered as you went back to pouring.

"No," he stated, though not aggressively. After you had handed the three glasses of whisky shots to the soldier outside the kitchen and watching as he stumbled over to two of his comrades, Levi continued.

"Just came to get some tea before heading back up to my office. But you're in the way."

This time, he didn't hide his displeasure at the situation.

"Ah, right, let me just move some of this out of your way.”

You started to move around the various bottles of alcohol that had been purchased by Commander Erwin for the event out of the way, but a quiet 'tsk' halted your movements.

"No need, I'll get it later. Besides, another brat wants a drink."

Following where he was currently glaring, you saw another soldier with an empty cup approaching the kitchens.

Giving Levi an apologetic smile, you prepared to take their order. For a moment, he merely stood and watched as you made drink after drink. But at some point, when you turned to strike up a conversation with him, he had already disappeared. Whether it was to seek out the Commander or perhaps supervise a drunken Hange, you weren't sure.

Though you tried to keep your train of focus, you couldn't help but wonder where he'd went off to in slight disappointment.

Seeing as the party was starting to die down slightly, you knew people would start to stagger off within the hour.

And perhaps then, you'd see him again.

═══════════

Cleaning off the last counter, you untied your hair and breathed a sigh of relief. Now that the messes in the kitchen had been taken care of, you decided it was time to relax and enjoy the night to yourself.

Almost everyone had gone off to their barracks rooms or wandered off somewhere else in a drunken haze around HQ, so your job for the night was complete.

You briefly contemplated how you should spend your free time, when something caught your attention.

Eyeing a large unopened bottle of wine neatly stacked back in the boxes they'd arrived to HQ in, you grinned to yourself.

═══════════

"The hell are you still doing here?"

Lowering the large bottle of wine from your lips, you glanced over the rim at the person's plain yet inquisitive tone as they closed the mess hall's doors behind them. Brows raising slightly, you quickly shook off your surprise at anyone being up and sober enough to come back in here.

"Ah, Captain Levi," you greeted softly. "I could ask you the same; the party ended an hour ago."

"Exactly," he muttered, crossing the room to the table you sat upon, your legs crossed and posture relaxed.

"They're all either passed out or spilling their guts, perfect time to get some tea unhindered and in silence."

You chuckled softly behind the back of your hand, lifting your bottle up to your lips for another quick sip.

"They do tend to get a bit rowdy when the drinks get poured, I don't suppose I blame you."

Levi made a small noise of acknowledgment, or perhaps agreement, you couldn't tell, and went to turn away and grab his preferred beverage from the kitchens.

But for a moment, he seemed to pause. Idly, you wondered to yourself if perhaps it was from the wine, or maybe even your slowly growing fatigue making you see things, but it seemed as though he had made to sit down at your table before changing his mind and his rout.

Pursing your lips in thought, you watched as he disappeared into the kitchens behind you.

For several long moments, you merely sat atop the table sipping at your wine, comfortable in your own silent thoughts. The semi-sweet liquid bubbled pleasantly against your tongue, with a slight warm sting down your throat when you swallowed. A faint fruity aftertaste filled your mouth by the time the bottle had left your parted lips.

A deep breath led to a contented sigh as you closed your eyes in relaxation, only to slowly open again shortly after when the sound of light footsteps approached you from behind.

Turning to look over your shoulder, you gave Levi a reassuring smile. Remembering what you thought you might have seen earlier, the way he had paused before passing you by, you spoke.

This was your chance...

"If you're not busy, I wouldn't mind the company."

Short, simple and sweet.

He could refuse with the excuse of work he may or may not have, or take a seat without feeling obligated. You figured this was the best way to communicate with the captain.

And you were right.

After a brief moment, he looses a breath almost inaudibly and sat facing you on a chair. You didn't miss the way he glanced disapprovingly at your boots being on the table top, much less your whole self. But, surprisingly, he remained silent.

You too remained silent, once more giving him the option to fill the silence with conversation or to simply exist in comfortable silence together. Around the five minute mark, you assumed the latter would be how you spent your night, until his low tone caught you off guard.

"So, why are you still in here? Said it yourself; party ended an hour ago."

"Oh, I just enjoy having quiet time to myself to unwind. Serving out drinks all evening to a hoard of eager soldiers tends to drain your social energy." You hummed, sloshing the wine left in your bottle before taking another sip.

Levi merely grunted in acknowledgment, taking a sip of his own beverage. The scent of black tea rising from the steam in his mug wafted over to you, making you smile at the pleasant aroma. Looking up to ponder what it was he was thinking in his silence, you were slightly startled to meet his gaze already on you.

Quickly, he darted his eyes away and took another sip from his tea cup, briefly obscuring his face from your view due to his unique way of holding his cups.

A feeling of warmth flooded your chest and face, and you had a feeling it had nothing to do with your bottle of wine now being half empty.

"So...Not much one for alcohol, huh?" You suddenly asked, feeling a need to dispel the awkwardness that had seeped into the quiet.

Still glancing away, he shook his head.

"I don't dislike it, I just prefer tea.....I suppose I've never gotten used to the fact that I can afford to drink it whenever I like now, so it's always my preferred go-to."

A pang in your chest made you frown. By now, everyone knew that Levi had grown up in the Underground City for half his life, but very few knew any details. Yourself included. But you'd heard from Hange once that tea was a rarity down there, so Levi's tiny (ahem, huge) obsession with the drink was understandable.

But what surprised you most was that he was willingly telling you something like this.

"Makes sense to me," you smiled, keeping your response light hearted instead of pitiful. You knew he'd scoff at any form of pity aimed his way.

"Black tea is soothing, especially on nights like these."

This time he hummed in agreement. It seemed he was pleased with your response, and in turn he kept the conversation alive.

"And you?" he gestured to the bottle in your hand.

"I suppose I drink more than I should, but how else would I have been able to perfect the art of mixing drinks if I hadn't sampled my work?"

Your chuckle brought out a slight raise in the corner of his mouth, a ghost of a half smile.

For awhile, the two of you conversed back and forth over your drinks. The topic of conversation varied every few minuets, but neither of you seemed to mind.

In fact, after a moment, he finally fully relaxed in his chair and continued to meet your gaze.

Occasionally, he would even go as far to lean forward when the things you said interested him.

Once Levi's tea ran out, you offered him a taste of your wine, telling him he might actually like this particular brew after he revealed he wasn't much of a "wine person."

"I don't do sweet shit," he mumbled as he took a glance at the bottle uncertainly.

"This wine's only semi-sweet. Kinda in between dry wine and desert wine, but not overwhelmingly so," you explained quickly.

With one last glance at the dark bottle, he gave in and gently took it from your smaller hand. For a moment, he hesitated as he glanced at the rim, then back up at you almost nervously.

"O-oh, here, I can get you a glass. Or better yet open a new bottle for you-" you started to say, realizing his delay over drinking after someone.

"No need," he cut you off. "Alcohol kills germs."

With that, he raised the bottle and took a sip from your bottle, making your eyes widen slightly in surprise at his sudden tolerance in sharing a drink.

He swallowed, eyeing the bottle for a moment before meeting your gaze with a slight pink hue covering his cheeks, matching your own.

"Doesn't taste like shit."

Though his expressions of his emotions and overall thoughts were rough around the edges, you could tell he liked the wine.

But still, his comment cracked you up, and you were delighted to see a slightly more prominent lift in his lips at your amused chuckling.

Handing the bottle back to you, he silently agreed to pass the bottle back and forth as the night drug on, sharing in the semi-sweet wine and trading tales.

Some time during the early hours of the morning, it came to both of your attentions just how long you'd been chatting in the mess hall. Albeit awkwardly, you both stood and cleared the table of anything you'd left there, placing them where they should go.

You were both silent as you walked towards the doors of the mess hall, leading to the barracks behind the winding halls. But before you could part ways to your respective rooms, Levi stopped in the hall.

Halting a few steps away, you cocked a brow at his back. It took him a moment, but he turned to face you. His expression was unreadable, but if you had to guess at it, you'd supposed he looked out of his element at the moment.

"We....We should do this again, s-some time," he blurted out softly, facing you but once again averting his gaze.

Feeling a warmth wash over your face, you found yourself admiring your boots as you tried to form together a coherent sentence.

"I'd like that."

And you absolutely meant it, much to his relief when he chanced a glance at your downcast face. Seeing the shy smile donning your pink lips, he felt his heartbeat speed up.

Turning back around so that you couldn't see the expression of awe on his face, he cleared his throat awkwardly and tugged at his cravat.

"Goodnight, y/n."

Turning down a separate hall, you couldn't stop your smile from growing.

"Goodnight, Levi."

84 notes · View notes

erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

Text

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

“Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast.

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula.

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money).

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess.

“Kissy?”

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed.

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal.

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs.

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest.

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it.

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly.

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly.

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little.

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy? I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder.

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now.

“Baby, m’so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

—

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room.

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters.

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor.

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out.

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws.

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier.

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you.

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern.

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together.

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency.

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark.

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years.

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations.

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?”

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist.

—

Thanks so much for checking it out :) PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

#harry styles #harrystyles #harrystylesfanfic #harrystylessmut #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles drabble #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #husband!harry #dad harry styles #husband harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles prompt #harry styles fic rec

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earthbaby-angelboy · 3 years ago

Text

Why representation in media is so important

Fandom: Criminal Minds, The Good Doctor, Takin Over The Asylum

Earlier this year, I came to accept the fact that I have bipolar disorder and that I am autistic. This was hard for me, mostly because I had been masking my whole life, and knew this was an opportunity to finally take that mask down and be my true, nutty, autistic self. I, like most young people finding out about a new diagnosis, felt scared and alone.

Then, in August of 2021, I began watching Criminal Minds. The first character I took a liking to would be a character that would help me grow to be comfortable in both my autism and chronic illnesses: Doctor Spencer Reid. In the first season, the first thing almost immediately said about him is that he is on the autism spectrum. At almost 15 years old, this was the first time I had ever seen an autistic character on TV. I was amazed.

As if my life could not get any more turbulent, in September, I was diagnosed with three comorbid chronic conditions (a mouthful, I know): Ehler Danlos syndrome, chronic pain syndrome, and hypermobility syndrome. I needed a cane and sometimes forearm crutches. The sudden adjustments that needed to be made just for me to get around was jarring. I was watching season 5 of Criminal Minds, which is the season infamous for when Spencer gets shot in the leg and starts using a cane. This was astounding to me. If an FBI agent can have a mobility aid, and still be seen as handsome, smart, and respectable, why can’t I do the same? Seeing a disabled character on TV changed my mindset completely, and knowing that one of my favorite characters possibly ever also used a cane was beyond comforting.

Earlier this week, a TikTok about the well known show, The Good Doctor, came up on my page. I was reminded that the show had an autistic person as a main character. So, interested by this, today I decided to take a peek around on the related tags here on Tumblr. Upon my searching, the GIFs below appeared.

(credit to @whitefluffyyeti )

In these clips, Shaun is having a sensory overload (sometimes referred to as a “meltdown”), which usually occurs when an autistic person is overstimulated by their surroundings. As a kid, these were common occurences: hours where I would scream, cry and shake, feeling completely misunderstood and totally lost. To see an adult, a respected adult, feel the same things and react in the same way that I usually do (covering ears, rocking back and forth) to having a sensory overload is beyond impactful. I feel both comforted and eased knowing I’m not alone with my struggles.

(EDIT: 12/2021) When I was 10, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. No one, including me, wanted to believe it. I ignored it for 3 years, until it got to the point where I couldn’t anymore. Of course, I felt alone and weird. But, I recently found a very old BritCom (circa 1994) called Takin Over The Asylum. Its about a young man named Campbell Bain who aspires to become a radio personality. He is bipolar, however, he isn’t ashamed of it. In fact, he embraces it. He jokes about his disorder, he calls himself a loony, and talks about how he shouldn’t have to conform to society because he’s different. I was reminded of the diagnosis I received years ago, and decided that fuck it, I was gonna embrace that too. If he could have manic episodes, fall into his depression, live a turbulent life in a mental hospital yet still be confident in himself and his dreams, so could I. It gave me hope that I could still live with my chronic and mental illnesses, and be successful.

(EDIT 6/13/23): I recently found out about the Six Of Crows duology, and in turn, Kaz Brekker. Kaz is a ruthless, cold hearted teenage gang leader… that also uses a cane. His disability is not some tragic backstory that the author harps on, but rather just another facet of who he is. Although he is dependent on his mobility aid, he uses it in a surprising way: to help him fight his foes. He is respected, successful, and feared. Another thing I love about his character is the fact that when he was given the choice to get rid of his disability, he said no. For so many people, their disabilities aren’t something they can magically get rid of. Some of us are born with these conditions, and they will never go away. So, to see a character that actively chooses not to get rid of his disability was refreshing. Kaz has given me the complete and utter confidence to begin using my mobility aids again after not using them for a very long time (a year/year and a half). He means the world to me.

By this point, some of you are probably asking “Reid, why is the title about how important representation is in media?” Well, let me tell you my friends: had I seen autistic, disabled, adopted kids in media that weren’t stigmatized when I was growing up, I would not have felt as alone as I did. Its unfortunate that only now I’m seeing these characters, but it is beneficial and important to me either way. So, to any writer reading this, please add trans, disabled, autistic, adopted, mentally ill and queer kids into your stories. It might just change someone’s life.

#autism #the good doctor #shaun murphy #spencer reid #autistic spencer reid #criminal minds #autistic characters #autistic characters in media #disabled characters in media #fyp #david tennant #takin over the asylum #campbell bain #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #disabled kaz brekker

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

I got a whole 4 hours of sleep today and have to pull a 12 hour shift. So I apologize if it doesn’t make sense, I am new to the Bucky fandom!

I like the idea of his grumpy, refusing to let anyone in, be slowly ground down by reader, but teeters back and forth until reader is in some sort of trouble. Then the flood gates of vulnerability open because he was worried about them. I mean he hasn’t been with anyone since the 40s right? Would he still know how to navigate caring about someone in that way? I don’t know. It was something that has been buzzing around in my head for a week.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: langauge, vague description of sex (minors dni!)

BUCKY MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You’d started out as neighbors - nothing more and nothing less.

Neighbors turned into causal acquaintances, fueled by your constant baking and copious amounts of goodies. Casual acquaintances turned into friends that would spend an occasional evening watching television together. Friends quickly turned into best friends that became utterly inseparable....with the occasional hook-up. You were hesitant to call it friends with benefits because that just sounded so crass. It was more like best friends with the occasional stress relief.

Stress relief. Sure that worked.

None that you wouldn’t have minded more of course. But you weren’t about to make a move on James Buchanan Barnes and ask him out on a date. No, you knew your place and his. He was physically akin to a god, mixed in with a bit of fuck boy, and yet...you loved him. You’d fallen hard and fast for the man that had gone from a mere stranger to a welcome and comfortable part of your life. But you’d never tell him that.

No, nope, hell no. Bucky surely didn’t reciprocate your feelings and you’d never been the type to make a move first.

Besides that...Bucky didn’t exactly strike you as a relationship type of guy. You’d seen him here and there with a girl or two, but it wasn’t anything serious. And since the two of you had started hooking up, you’d never noticed anyone else. And you hadn’t been with anyone else either. It was akin to a non-exclusive exclusive not-really-a-relationship relationship. Neither of you pushed it any further - you both accepted dates here and there but they never amounted to anything. Wonder why?

Unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want a relationship - he did. He did very much with you. But he just...there was something about being a one hundred and six year-old man that just left him confused and worried. He hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to date much and now that he had the time it reminded him of just how different things were. Dating was this weird confused jumble, but you were a clear and obvious bright spot. He had his doubts that you’d ever want anything more from him. He knew what he was - a mostly stable old man with a body that people seemed to enjoy. He made the most of that - it didn’t seem like people were interested in getting to know him much these days.

But you did - you always did. And, gods, he’d fallen hard for you - the kind of love that makes your stomach churn and heart feel like bursting and steals your breath away no matter how long it’s been. But what the fuck would you want with him? He’s a fossil with a boatload of mental trauma and even more sass and attitude.

You deserved the world and he only had himself to give. Of course, he was enough - way more than enough - but he didn't believe that.

There had been numerous occasions when you'd tried to be honest, to confess your true feelings, but you'd always managed to fall short. Every time you got close, something came up. And after the last girl you'd seen him with, you vowed to take your secret to the grave.

You had come close though - so close - especially the last time you'd hooked up.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were under Bucky, both of you naked and panting as you quickly approached your highs. He was buried deep inside you, head dropped to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nipping and biting at the delicate skin.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist in order to hold him close. One of your hands was laced together with his while the other was wrapped around his neck. There was something so perfectly harmonious about how you always were together.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, James, James, James as he kept going. It was the only time you called him anything but Bucky. As your vision had grown hazy and you felt that familiar warm start to blood your veins, you’d let your true feelings slip. It was so easy, so effortless and in the moment it just...happened.

I love you.

The declaration hung in the air as you felt your walls clamp around him and he reached his own eyes. That’s when you’d realized what you’d done. This time it was an entirely different sensation radiating throughout your bones - terror. Utter terror.

But if Bucky had heard your three little words he made no mention of them. Relief washed over you as you came to the conclusion that he was just as wrapped up in his own blissful haze that he simply hadn’t heard you. You were safe this time - but you’d have to be extra cautious from here on out.

Oh, but Bucky had heard you. Loudly and clearly. He chose to ignore your words because he was positive that he hadn’t heard you incorrectly. Surely you hadn’t meant to say that - and more importantly, it was a mistake. As much as he loved hearing those words from your pretty lips, he knew it was either an accident or a figment of his imagination.

You both pretended that nothing had happened.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky rolled his eyes lightly as he watched his phone light up with a call from Sam. He was half tempted to ignore it but decided to answer anyway; he was bored and the call might lead to something to do. You’d normally be hanging out with him on a Friday night, but his calls and texts had gone unanswered.

“Hey man,” Bucky picked up the call and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, “what’s up?”

“You need to get to the hospital,” Sam was speaking so quickly that it all came out in a single slew of words as Bucky’s brows knitted together.

“I know I don’t have a lot going on this Friday night, but I think I’m okay,” he snorted as he opened the bottle and took a swig.

“No, no, no,” Sam interrupted by almost whispering your name, “there’s been an accident. She was hurt and taken to the ER. I was on the phone with her when it happened - just come. Now.”

Bucky didn’t even wait for Sam to finish before he dropped the beer and ran out the door. His whole body felt like it was growing numb and the only thing on his mind was you. You couldn't be hurt...you just couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t imagine any sort of reality in which you weren’t there.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as he ran into the hospital, seeking out the emergency room, he was asking about you. He looked probably just as crazy as he felt as he was nervously directed to your room. He almost jogged down the hall and into your small space. Sam stood at the end of your bed, looking down at you with a concerned expression.

“What the hell happened?” Bucky could barely bring himself to look at you as you laid on the small bed, looking so helpless and fragile. You were sleeping, sedated from lots of heavy drugs, but hooked up to several beeping machines. Your arm was in a cast already, bruises and contusions and cuts littered every bit of your skin that he could see. His heart plummeted into his stomach.

“She was crossing the street and got hit by a car that didn’t slow down enough in time,” Sam’s heavy was heavy as he rubbed at his tired, “I heard it all happen, Buck. It was terrible - but she’s strong. She’s going to be okay. No internal damage, luckily, but she’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while. The arm’s broken.”

“Jesus,” Bucky sighed as Sam nodded.

“I called her parents and they’ll be here soon. She’s just sleeping but hopefully will wake up soon.”

“Okay,” Bucky took a hesitant step closer.

“She asked for you,” Sam hadn’t been sure if he should have confessed that little part or not, “when they were bringing her in. Kept repeating your name. You should just tell her, you know. She’s obvious she feels the same. Don’t be idiots.”

“Thanks,” Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically as the two men shared a quick laugh before Sam hugged him, “I’ll stay here if you want to go. You’ve done a lot already. Thank you for calling me.”

“I got you man,” Sam gave him a half smile, “call me if you need anything at all...or if anything happens.”

“Goodbye.”

As soon as his friend left, Bucky came over to you, his fingers grazing the side of the small, horrid looking bed. He was going to help you however you needed it for however long it would take till you were better and out of pain. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t ever leave your side again.

This whole time he’d been so dumb, so silly. He should have just told you how he left - a long time ago and gotten over himself. A heavy sigh escaped him as you pulled up the uncomfortable plastic chair and took a seat next to you.

He gently, ever so delicately reached for the hand that was in the cast and held it in his. It almost made him laugh with how much smaller your hand was than his. They fit perfectly together.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, wondering when you’d wake up. He hoped soon - so he could finally tell you all of those unspoken words.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“James?” a croaky, dry voice met his ears as his tired eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision before focusing on you. You were looking back at him with a tired, sleepy little smile on your features. You looked beautiful, so damn beautiful, despite the blues and purples painting your skin, “what are you doing here?”

He must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. He was still holding your hand. He beamed back at you, “hi pretty girl. Sam called me and told me what happened. I came right over.”

“I’m anything but pretty right now,” you laughed lightly but quickly grimaced at the pain, “how long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday evening,” he confessed quickly, “I didn’t want to leave - wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh Bucky,” there was that saccharine little smile on your face. The same one he loved so much, “you didn’t have to. I...I really fucked up movie night, huh?”

“I’m in love with you.”

He finally got those damn words out before he could change his mind or think too much about it. Your face immediately lit up with a grin as you searched his cerulean eyes.

“Do you mean it?” you asked softly as he nodded, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

“Of course.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” you replied, giving his hand a tight squeeze, “I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispered as he leaned closer to you, “because I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl. Not now, not ever.”

“I don’t want you to, Bucky,” you promised, “I want you with me always.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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weasleypogues · 3 years ago

Text

help pt.2 (r.c.)

after lots of requests asking for a part two!! i decided fuck it and to make it! hope u all enjoy! :) xxxxxx

part one here if you haven’t read it already!

masterlist.

after being in a relationship with rafe for a year now, you know how he handles his feelings and rationalizes them. it’s simple, he doesn’t. you’d watch and hear about him getting into fights with his sisters which was normal for siblings but you can see how he blew them out of proportion.

you knew for one thing that you weren’t in this relationship to solely be his therapist and fix him but you loved him and you help the ones you love. even if that means acknowledging that they may be in the wrong and helping them come to that realization to rationalize it.

however, no matter how many times you helped him and talked through everything with him, there were some nights in which a conversation was no use. there were only so many times that he felt as if he deserved help and other times where he resorted to drugs and drinking to ease his thoughts.

even though watching him blow your date off and throw a party as an excuse to push away his thoughts, you still cared for him. so when you walked away you didn’t hop in your car and speed off, but you invited yourself inside the large and dark house. you tiptoed your way to his room, not fully knowing who was home and who was asleep.

you found yourself in front of his door and placed your hand on the knob, turning it slightly and hearing the familiar creak of the hinges. you smelt the faint hint of the shower he had taken after you left and before the party. your eyes easily trailed the the outfit at the foot of his bed. it was not the outfit that you left him in and came to the conclusion that this was the outfit he was going to take you out in. you took a few steps to that outfit and lightly let your fingers trail along the stitching and buttons of his shirt, finally grasping it as tight as you could as you felt a lump in your throat form.

“(y/n)?” you heard a faint voice call out. you spun around and were face to face with wheezie who had her hair in two french braids and in her pajamas. she shined her phone in your direction to get a better look. you softly smiled and walked towards her, taking her in for a hug.

“hi wheeze. sorry, did i wake you?” you asked thoughtfully, pulling away and taking your shoes off in his doorway to throw them to the side. she put down her phone as her eyes finally adjusted to the moonlight shining in.

“nope, i could feel the bass bumping outside from here.” she chuckled. you looked into her soft brown eyes for a second and felt a tinge of guilt. you always tried to sympathize with everyone and put yourself in their shoes. you couldn’t imagine how wheezie felt. this was not the easiest household to grow up in, regardless of how it looks on the outside. she was only thirteen and already had her heartbroken. by her brother and father. and no matter how many times they pushed her to the side in their own frantics, she still put on a brave face and loved them. she was not as in the dark as she let off to be. she was intelligent and knew how to formulate her thoughts and actions.

“oh shit yeah, i’m sorry.” you apologized on behalf of rafe. she gave you a soft smile and shook her head, allowing one braid to fall from her shoulder to behind her back.

“don’t apologize for him, this is nothing new.” wheezie laughed off. you smiled off the situation as well, just accepting it at this point.

“what do you say we go out into town for brunch tomorrow? you and i?” you inquired, as a way of letting her know that you were there for her. because if you were there for rafe, you had to be there for everything that came from this relationship, and that meant his little sisters. a big smile grew on her face that warmed your heart and she nodded her head fast.

“totally down! i’ll start looking up cute places on google and let you know!” wheezie exclaimed, trying to contain some of her excitement. she turned around and excitedly ran back to her room upstairs. you closed rafe’s door, not all the way in hopes of letting some light from the hallway in.

making your way to his bathroom, you invited yourself to some of your toiletries that he practically begged you to keep here as an excuse to stay over more often. you grabbed make up wipes and your toothbrush and settled yourself before grabbing a tshirt of his and sliding off your dress. you placed your phone on the nightstand next to the bed, claiming your usual side of the bed before sliding under and shutting your eyes.

this slumber, if you could even call it that, felt like at least ten minutes when rafe had woken you up by barging through his door at least three hours later. your eyes fluttered open and tried their hardest to adjust quickly to the hallway light he was letting shine in your face. his glossy eyes lazily landed on your body under his covers and you swear you could see his shoulders relax. you gave your body a slight stretch and grabbed onto the top of the blanket and opened it up as an invite for rafe to hop in. rafe kicked off his shoes and stumbled his way to bed, which made your heart hurt a little.

“i thought you went home.” he slightly slurred, his eyes closing. he was lying on his back with the arm further from your resting on his forehead. the room must be spinning right now.

“i thought about it and maybe i had every right to, but i didn’t want to leave you.” you responded, in a mousier voice than you realized as this was the first words to leave your mouth since you woke up.

“why not? i fucking blew you off tonight. it was shitty.” he answered truthfully. you took a second and watched his chest rise and fall as he awaited an answer. you knew you were not here to be his savior but you were here to love him.

“it was shitty...but. but i know it’s because your psych yourself out and maybe feel like your in a valley rather than a peak. when your in peaks i love to see the smile on your face and make all these great memories with you. but when you’re in valleys, that is not the time for me to run and let you deal with everything on your own. i’m here to back you up and love you for you.” you responded, keeping your eyes on his rising and falling chest and letting your hand make it’s way to the center of it, feeling the faint beat of his heart. he took the free hand he had and grabbed your hand from his chest and kissed the top of it.

“i love you, (y/n).” rafe whispered, leaning over and kissing the top of your head. you both instinctively snuggled closer to each other and you could feel him squeeze you protectively. the moonlight and body warmth helped both of you fall asleep rather quickly.

waking up to the sunlight in the room shining through his two windows was almost as comforting as the fact that you woke up on your stomach with your hand still placed on his chest and his own hand resting on top of that. you could still feel the faint pitter patter and smiled softly to yourself. you slightly sat up to check the time on his nightstand where his clock sat. 9:17. you rolled your eyes playfully, thinking of the last time you saw that time, was last night when you hopped out of your car in front of his house. circumstances and conversations were different.

you slowly slid out from under the covers and made your way to the bathroom to freshen up quickly and grabbing a pair of his basketball shorts before heading to the kitchen for some water. grabbing a glass and filling it as quietly as you could you heard faint footsteps grow in volume as they entered the kitchen. you swiftly turned around and saw sarah walk in, opening up the fridge.

“mornin’.” sarah said, groggily and grabbing pre-made cold brew out of the fridge. you smiled softly as you brought the glass once at your lips down to the marble counter.

“morning. wheeze and i are going out to grab brunch if you wanna come out and make it a girls day!” you stated, lightly tapping your fingers against the glass. she made a face with a smile that looked like she was considering it and raised her eyebrows.

“i think i’ll take you up on that offer.” sarah responded, running a hand through her bed head and taking a sip. you smiled and felt slightly relieved, you and sarah were always nice to each other and were once even close but her and rafe’s relationship made you nervous to overstep. but you had to admit you missed how close you two were.

making your way back to rafe’s bedroom, you noticed his eyes fluttering open and he stretched, groaning in the meanwhile. he brought his hands to his head and rubbed his temples.

“need some advil babe?” you chuckled, grabbing the pill bottle from his dresser and going to hand him your glass of water. he groaned in response. as you handed the pill bottle to him, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back in to bed. you couldn’t handle the scream that escaped your lips as you accidentally poured the water from your cup on the both of you.

he grabbed the cup and put it on the nightstand and wrapped his hands around your waist. rafe began planting kisses all over your face until you pulled away with a giant smile and realized you were straddling him. he smirked and checked you out before making his way back up to your eyes.

“i can get used to this sight.” rafe flirted and you felt your cheeks go hot as you rolled off of him.

“i gotta get ready.” you stated, chuckling and getting off the bed. you watched him dry swallow two ibuprofen and look at you with a shocked look on his face.

“get ready?” rafe said exasperatedly, lifting his torso off his bed and sitting up. you playfully rolled your eyes and grabbed your phone off the bed next to him.

“indeed. i’m having a girls only brunch with your sisters.” you said, flashing him a cheeky smile. he groaned and rolled his eyes, letting his body fall dramatically back on his bed. “oh, don’t be dramatic.” you heard his chuckle slightly fade out and you glanced over at him as he stared off into space.

“can you come back here later? or maybe i come to you? help me figure some of this “seeing someone to talk to” shit out. i don’t think i can do it alone.” he muttered, clearly a little embaraassed to admit it. you did not hesitate to walk over to him and grab his face in your hands before planting a kiss on his lips.

“anything for you, my love.” you whispered in front of his face and looked longingly into his eyes. you appreciated softer moments like this that reminded you of the sweet times you both had together. you pulled away after one more kiss. “i’m with you every step of the way.”

you stuck your pinky out to him and he again, playfully rolled his eyes, attempting to withhold the display of the oncoming smile on his face. he linked his pinky in yours and you both kissed your thumbs.

“i’m with you every step of the way.” he repeated. you both unlinked your fingers but let your hands graze each other as you walked closer to his doorframe.

“sarah, wheezie! ready whenever you are!” you yelled up, hearing two pairs of footsteps only a few moments after. you looked back and rafe winked at you as he put his hands behind his head. you laughed and caught up with his sisters in the foyer.

you were with each other every step of the way.

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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years ago

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The Nanny - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader - PART 2 (smut)

“How long has this been going on?” Elsa asked, the two of you lounging on the couch while the kids were napping.

“I wasn’t aware anything was going on until yesterday” you answered, blushing as you told Hemsworth’s wife about your plans to stay with Tom over the short break.

“Well, if you ask Chris he’ll tell you he’s always known, but I was the first one to call it.” She gave you a smug look.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?!” you threw your arms up. “Would have been nice to know I actually had a chance.”

“You didn’t tell me you fancied him!” Elsa laughed. You both heard India start scooting down the stairs one by one.

“Doesn’t everybody?” you smirked, standing to go grab India. “Half the time I’m certain your husband has a crush on him.”

“Oh, he does.” Elsa laughed, following you up the stairs.

You and Elsa got the kids fed and dressed so she could visit Chris with the kids on set.

“You may as well bring your bag now” she suggested. “You can just go home with him when he’s done filming.”

You took a deep breath, thinking through what you should even pack.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, telling India to put her shoes on.

“I’m…I don’t know. This doesn’t feel real.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’ve been watching it happen for over a year, Y/n. It’s real. Now, living with someone makes you privy to certain details about each other that you otherwise wouldn’t know…I don’t snoop, but our laundry has crossed paths a few times…so when I tell you to wear the black lace lingerie, take my advice.” She winked, going to put India’s shoes on the correct feet.

When you all arrived at the set, the guys were in the middle of filming. You and Elsa sat back and watched them work through the choreography of a scene for about 20 minutes before a break was called.

“Do you mind watching the boys while I take India over to Chris?” Elsa asked.

“Not at all” you smiled and waved her off. You were sat on a bench and the twins were sat on the floor at your feet, so they could play with their blocks.

When Chris saw Elsa, his face lit up like a child’s. He ran off of the sound stage to meet her halfway. You spotted Tom looking around the room until he made eye contact with you, smiling and waving. When he passed Elsa and Chris, Elsa pulled him into a hug. It was obvious she was talking about you because she literally pointed while Tom ducked his head like they were teasing him. Tom continued towards you, joining you on the bench by the boys.

“How is filming going?” you asked, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Today has actually been a lot of fun” he answered, putting his arm around your shoulders. “I am, however, incredibly sore from all of the choreography. We’ve been shooting fight scenes all day and I think every bit of me has been whacked or stepped on at least once.”

You ran your hand up and down his thigh, looking up at him. “You sound like you need a massage.”

“Are you offering, darling?” Tom’s voice sounded a tad husky and his eyes dropped to your lips for a split second.

“Oh, I would love to get my hands on you” you teased before he dipped down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Come on, boys” Elsa called as she walked towards her twins.

Chris teased the two of you. “Really? In front of the children?”

“Be nice” Elsa scolded him.

“Or what?” he laughed, throwing the boys blocks into their bag and picking up Sasha. Elsa turned and gave him a knowing look. Chris nodded and replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“You are officially off duty” Elsa said, picking Tristan up.

You snuggled into Tom’s side a bit and sighed before hearing him say “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

When it was time for Tom to head to the make-up trailer to get out of costume, he grabbed your hand and took you with him. When they removed his wig and handed him make-up wipes, you started pulling out the bobby pins and combing your fingers through his hair. Dragging your nails gently over his scalp had him practically purring in your hands. “Better?”

“That feels amazing” he replied, his eyes shut and the make-up wipes forgotten.

“Finish up” you said, kissing his temple and grabbing the dirty make-up wipes from him to throw them in the trash.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, continuing to remove the stage make-up after the make-up artist left the trailer.

You watched him scrub the last bits of Loki away, a soft fond smile on your face. “For you?” He turned to face you. “Let’s just say I’ve probably been thinking about it a lot longer than you have.”

Tom stood up and threw the rest of the dirty face wipes away. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I don’t know, I think everyone fell in love with you in Thor.” You replied.

“It doesn’t count if I hadn’t met you yet.” He laughed, gathering his things.

Picking up your bag, you turned to leave the trailer. “We met like, what? A year later?”

“That Christmas, actually.” Tom answered, following you out of the trailer. “You had already moved in with Chris and Elsa. She was just starting to really show her baby bump.”

“The party.” You said, nodding in agreement. “I remember. I felt like a massive fangirl when Chris introduced us.”

“Far from it” Tom answered, pulling your bag’s strap off your shoulder to carry your bag. “First, you looked incredible. You had on black and burgundy and I’m certain I spent an inappropriate amount of time looking at your ass.”

You laughed, remembering the dress. You felt like Morticia Addams with more cushion for the pushin’.

“Second, you were so confident. Every other person I met that night just wanted to talk about gossip or getting Botox or they’d ask me to do an impersonation. You asked me questions. Meaningful questions. You actually had opinions of your own when I asked about your favorite writers and films and such.”

You could feel yourself falling more and more the longer he went on. “I didn’t know you had such a high opinion of me.” You said, watching Tom put the bags in his car.

“Admittedly, I should have told you sooner.” He replied, coming around the car to open your door for you. When he climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up, he continued. “But I am absolutely looking forward to making up for lost time” he said, leaning across the console to kiss you.

You stopped and grabbed food to take back to Tom’s. The two of you ate and had a few beers while lounging on his couch. It all felt very…normal? Comfortable. You were snuggled into his chest listening to him talk about how Hemsworth had broken three separate props today when you remembered what he had said about being sore.

When you went to pull away from Tom, he tightened his arm. “Darling, if you’re standing up to clean up the dinner mess, I will personally see to it that I find some way of punishing you during your stay.” You watched Tom lick his lips as he awaited your reply.

“While I know that I would enjoy every second of whatever you consider punishment, I was actually going to tell you to take your clothes off.” You smirked, watching his lips part and his eyes widen.

You stood and grabbed the trash from dinner, swaying your hips as you walked towards the kitchen trash can. “Hey!” Tom laughed, sitting upright on the couch. “Were you just trying to distract me?”

You walked back in the room with a bottle of lotion in your hands. “Why are you still dressed?” you teased him.

“I’d be at a disadvantage if I were the only one undressed” he replied, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get me naked soon enough” you laughed, kneeling by the couch. “Lose the pants and lay down on your stomach.”

“I’m never going to catch up if you keep spoiling me.” Tom stood and unbuttoned his jeans.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, your eyes glued to Tom’s body.

Tom loved that you seemed to get just as distracted by him as he was by you. “Y/n, you’re always the one taking care of everybody. Constantly.” He tossed his jeans to the side, standing in front of your kneeling form.

“Well, isn’t that just the pot calling the kettle black” you said, patting the couch and telling him to lay down. After warming some lotion in your hands, you ran them slowly but firmly up Tom’s back. “Tom, you’re always the first person to help.” Tom moaned, pressing his face into the cushion to quiet the noise. “You are always checking on me or helping with the kids or…”

“Well, I’ve been trying to show you how I feel, but it’s hard when you don’t need anything, and you don’t accept anyone’s help.” Tom interrupted you. “Oh, fuck me” he moaned, turning and laughing into the cushion. You were working on a knot in his muscles near his shoulder and you just got it to loosen up. “It’s really hard to have a serious conversation while you’re eliciting very sexual noises from me.”

“I’m actually enjoying this.” You smirked, starting to work on another knot.

“Well, what I’m trying to say…*moan*…is that I don’t want you feeling like you HAVE to do anything for me…*Oh god, whatever you just did felt amazing*…I want you to feel taken care of too.” Tom’s very heartfelt sentiment was spoken between groans, moans, and swear words.

“Sweetheart, I do things for people because I want to” you said, moving down his back towards his ass. “Just like you do and just like Elsa and Chris do. It’s not a competition. I’m not keeping score.” You were kneading your thumbs into Tom’s hip and thigh muscles.

Tom tried to sneakily adjust his growing issue between himself and the couch, but you saw. With your hands all over him, he was having a hard time not letting his mind wander. “If that’s true then you just have to accept that I want to do things for you too.”

“I think I can allow it.” You started working your way back up his thighs, when he reached back and grabbed one of your hands.

“This feels incredible, but if you keep touching me, I’m just going to get more and more turned on.” He turned to sit on the couch with a throw pillow covering his lap.

“And?” you said, still kneeling by the couch. You ran your hands up Tom’s thighs, your finger teasing at the band of his briefs.

Chucking the pillow to the floor, he leaned forward and pulled you into a rough kiss. “Take your clothes off.”

“Gladly.” You stood, pulling your shirt off and unbuttoning your jeans. Turning around so that Tom got a great view, you bent over and slid your jeans down your legs. When you turned around, you saw Tom palming himself as his eyes took in the black lace bralette and thong.

“Wherever you bought that set…we’re getting more of them.” Tom said, stripping off his last item of clothing before leaning forward and slipping his fingers into the waist of your thong. “You look unbelievably sexy.”

Tom made you feel like a goddess. He dragged your panties down your legs, letting you step out of them. When he leaned back you saw just how endowed Tom was. He saw you lick your lips and smirked.

Leaning back on the couch with his legs spread, Tom patted his thighs and started stroking his manhood. “Come here, gorgeous. That is, if you can handle me.”

While you were slipping out of your bralette, you teased back. “Are you sure you can handle me?”

“Sweetheart, I know that you’re a lot of woman…I know what I’m getting myself into” he said, still admiring your body… “and I am going to lick, touch, or suck every part of you before you leave this apartment.”

Placing your knees on the outside of Tom’s legs, you straddled his lap, letting him pull you into a rough kiss. His hands found their way to your ass, and then your breasts, and then your hips as he pulled you tight against his torso. “There is a condom in that drawer” he pointed to the small table by the couch.

“I’m on birth control…” you said, waiting for his response.

“Then it’s up to you” Tom answered, still wanting you to set that boundary.

You connected your lips in another kiss. “We don’t need it.”

Tom slid his hand between you two and ran the tip of his hardness up and down your dripping slit. “Jesus Christ, Y/n.” Tom brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “Mmm, so sweet. Glad to know I’ve got you as hot and bothered as you have me.”

You dragged your tongue along Tom’s bottom lip, asking permission to deepen the kiss. When his tongue ran over yours you could taste yourself in the kiss.

“I can’t wait anymore. Please.” You said, your hands roaming Tom’s perfect chest.

Tom pushed into you in one smooth motion, digging his fingers into your hips, “Ride me.”

You put your hands on the back of the couch and started moving, feeling him move his hips in rhythm with you. “Oh, fuck” you moaned, throwing your head back.

Tom buried his face in your chest, sucking love marks into the tender skin there. “God, you feel incredible.”

When Tom shifted a bit and hit your G spot, you could have sworn you saw stars. You grabbed his face and begged him to do it again.

Tom looked cocky, absolutely obsessed with making you fall apart. “Like this?” he said, roughly hitting the same spot a few times in a row.

“Tom!” you moaned his name, your fingers finding their way into his hair as you crashed your lips against his.

Tom could feel you clenching around him, your legs starting to shake. “Can you cum for me, baby?” He was ready to burst, himself.

You couldn’t form words. Your hands moved to your breasts, absentmindedly playing with your nipples as your orgasm built.

“You look luscious, y/n.” Tom gripped your hips, holding you in place as he franticly thrusted into you. “I’m gonna…”

Tom’s snap into overdrive tipped you right over the edge. Your bodies glistened with sweat and Tom’s hair was mussed from your idle hands. As you came down from your temporary highs, Tom kept running his hands up and down your sides, kissing your temple and then your shoulder and then your cheek.

When he pulled out of you, you groaned and tucked your face into his neck.

“Don’t worry, my sweet. There’s plenty more where that came from.” Tom held you against his chest, feeling both of your breathing level back out.

When you thought you could actually move again, you sat up and pulled him into a gentle kiss. “Mmm…thank you.” You said against his lips.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.” Tom held your hands as you stood.

“Lead the way.” You smirked, waiting for Tom to walk ahead of you. When he did, you couldn’t help but smack his amazing ass.

“Is that your way of telling me you want to be spanked?” Tom quipped, grabbing a stack of towels and taking them to the bathroom.

You laughed and then stood there thinking about what he had asked. *mmm Tom’s hands* *I mean, he did tell me he would punish me for cleaning up dinner* *Oh god, thinking about him being rough is turning me on all over again*

You were thinking it through when he popped his head back around the corner. “Might I suggest you have your dirty thoughts in the shower so we don’t run out of hot water.”

You shook your head, ending your daydream and looking at the adorable face staring back at you. You walked towards him, going on your tip-toes to give him a quick kiss. “Spanking is a yes.”

Tom laughed, walking with you to the shower. “We should probably try a bit of everything, if I’m being honest. It’s good to try new things.”

Your eyes went wide. “You only have two days off work.”

Tom pulled you to his chest, under the water. “My sweet, we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston x Curvy reader #Tom Hiddleston Imagine

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speechlessxx · 4 years ago

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my house of stone, your ivy grows & now i’m covered in you.

{King!Steve Rogers x noblewoman!Reader}

with a side of Prince/King!Peter Parker x Reader

ROYALTY/MEDIEVAL AU

summary -> engaged to the Prince of Arachnia, the young maiden finds her heart calling out the name of another.

warnings-> infidelity. age gap! (reader’s age isn’t explicitly said but she’s younger than Steve). poorly & awkwardly written SMUT. (includes: unprotected sex, brief fingering, slight breeding kink). rambles. angst. fluff. lots of tension. bittersweet ending :)

A/N -> for smut part, please scroll if you are not 18+. MINORS DNI

word count -> 12k+ !!! this one’s a lengthy one & i had no intentions of turning it into a series. it just got long.

Buy Me A Kofi

At the ripe age of five-years-old, you were plucked from your childhood, abandoning all the childish whims and adventures to be groomed to be the perfect wife. No more rolling in the dirt with your older brothers or mucking about the stables with the horses or fencing with sticks that substituted the steel bladed swords.

It all quickly became sewing needles and recipes, cleaning and books balanced on your crown.

You were taught it all.

How to behave. How to stand or sit. How to greet and host. How to exist in silence because “a lady is to be seen and never heard,” as your teacher, Madam Morris, would say. The many lessons were engraved into your mind while the meaningless tasks and skills became muscle memory.

Be pious. Be kind. Smile. Be what your husband wants. Laugh. (no, not like that). Do as your husband says. Be interesting but not too much. Never overshadow your husband. Don’t disappoint or you will bring shame upon your family.

What a burden to place on the shoulders of a young teen though it was expected of you. Coming from an aristocratic family, it was all you ever knew: “get a husband and make us proud”.

As the years droned on and you approached adulthood, the pressure to marry became more and more prominent. And when you shed past your teen years as an unmarried young adult, the disappointment and shame began to show. Your family throwing distaste your way with snide remarks and mocking smirks.

The embarrassment felt as if it had been painted across your cheeks and you grew restless, convincing yourself to accept any opportunities of marriage just to be rid of their cruelty.

So, when the Prince of Arachnia arrived at your father’s estate and asked for permission to court you, you had no choice but to accept.

Prince Peter Benjamin Parker was nothing short of the perfect gentleman. As you walked, he’d ensure that you were safely tucked into his side opposite of the streets. He’d hold your hand steady as you exited carriages. He’d leave chaste kisses on your forehead or knuckles – almost always on your left ring finger – even though your chaperone would throw a disapproving glance his way.

You thought of him as charming with his tousled, dark brown curls with matching eyes that squinted as he smiled or laughed harder than he intended.

“He would make a great king someday,” your father would sing his praises. “And you, my dove, will be his fine queen.”

You were never fond of these comments, never finding any appreciation or gratitude when they were uttered to you. Though the thought of being queen would make any young girl giddy with excitement, you found an odd sensation of dread within you.

You weren’t sure where the feelings had originated from. Were you nervous about being a queen? About the responsibility of running not only an estate but an entire country as well? Or was it the fact you would forever be labeled as his queen rather than the queen? Did you detest the idea of belonging to another person for the rest of your life?

“Are you alright?” His voice brought you back into the present. You swallowed as you turned away from the window facing the garden of roses that your mother was so proud of to face the prince. You curtseyed although he’s told you many times it was unnecessary.

“I’m grand,” you lied with a weary smile though he bought it all the same.

Peter grinned a toothy smile as he took your hand in his. It was then you felt the weight of the engagement ring on your finger. The sapphire blue was an oval shape, large enough to cover the skin of your knuckle. The center jewel adorned a halo of smaller diamonds. All this sitting on the delicate white gold band that wrapped around your finger like a shackle.

He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss upon the sapphire. “I shall be counting down the days,” he whispered in the quiet room. You forced another smile and nodded.

“As will I.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

Arachnia wasn’t a large country nor was it tiny either. It had eight main roads that extended into the towns with the capital and its palace in the center. It had been said that the main roads were all equal in length so that everyone was at an equal distance from the palace though you weren’t so sure that there was truth to this. Your father’s estate sat near the south of Arachnia, in one of the nicer towns. The ride to Peter’s real home felt like an eternity.

It had been his idea, of course, that you be brought to the palace months ahead of the wedding. “Life in the castle is different to life in the towns,” he told you before, weeks into your courtship, “Everyone’s always watching.” He reasoned that the prying eyes needed to get used to the presence of his future queen, but you understood it all the same – that although it was crucial that you adjust to court, it was equally, if not more so, important that the court adjust to you.

“I will give you the grand tour,” he said as you put your head on his shoulder. The journey, although short, had picked at your energy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep, but his excited chatter kept pulling you back into consciousness. As much as you wanted to tell him to pipe down, you knew you couldn’t. Not only was he your husband to be, but he was also your soon to be king. “There’s fountains and gardens – I had them plant roses like the ones in your mother’s – “

The words became muddled nonsense as you slowly dozed off. The journey and your sleepless night, picking at the skin on your fingers, had finally caught up to you, making your eyelids heavy with sleep.

You jolted awake as the carriage hit a bump. You and Peter’s head slammed into each other, waking you both. You groaned, rubbing the spot as he mirrored you.

“You alright?” Peter asked you. You nodded, still rubbing the spot. Peter leaned over and kissed it and you gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You’ve been rather quiet. Is there something on your mind?”

You shook your head. “No, your highness,” you said. “I am just a bit nervous, is all.”

“Don’t be.” Peter chuckled. “The kingdom will fall in love with you just as I have.”

“And if they do not? Shall you find another bride?”

Peter’s smile faltered before shaking his head. “Those who do not immediately fall for my queen are mad and I shall find them the greatest court physician to treat their delusions.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You placed your head against his and took in a shaky breath.

There it was again. My queen. Another reminder that you no longer belonged to yourself. That as soon as vows are exchanged and he places another band on top of the enormous ring you already wore, you were completely his to own.

And suddenly that sweet moment, wrapped in your fiancé’s arms, was cut short as that familiar feeling of dread washed over you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

After weeks following your arrival in the center of Arachnia, it still didn’t feel like your home, rather it was Peter’s. The maids didn’t follow your orders nor did the kitchen staff. Heavens knows that the knights and the other noblemen wouldn’t acknowledge you. It felt as if no one knew your name, save for Prince Peter and his aunt, Lady May Parker.

You were merely a stranger in their court, the soon to be king’s guest.

Although the preparations for Peter’s coronation should’ve been your duty, Lady Parker seized the job, citing that you weren’t the queen just yet. “Let me alleviate you of this, Lady (Y/N).” She told you with a smile. “After your marriage, I shall step aside and allow you all the duties as the lady of the castle.” And in many ways, you were grateful that this was not your responsibility for the coronation of Prince Peter Parker had been long awaited for.

After Peter’s uncle, King Benjamin, passed and with Peter’s father long gone before then, the young prince was suddenly eyed to be the king. However, the councilmen thought that the boy was too young – too green to be king. They waited years until Peter came of age and once he finally did, they refused a peaceful transition of power. Instead, there were harsh rumors that the kingdom would be handed to Brooklyn’s King.

This debacle led to rumors of unrest and threats of civil war. It felt as if the entire continent held its breath as it stared at Arachnia, waiting for the violence to begin.

If King Anthony of Starken and Lady Parker did not intervene, then there would’ve been lives lost and a country torn. An agreement was made between House Parker and their council: that before Peter may take the throne, he must either be married or engaged, so that the line of succession may be secured.

And with your presence and Peter’s sapphire ring, the crown became his in an instant.

Nearly three weeks before his coronation, lords and ladies along with royals from other countries flocked to Arachnia to celebrate its king.

Lady Parker and Prince Peter introduced you to so many people in the coming days that none of their names truly stuck. All except one.

King Steven Rogers of Brooklyn.

The tall, broad man strode through the castle halls. His royal blue clothes made his eyes pop in the daylight. You thought he was beautiful. His presence demanded attention and he walked with a knowing smirk. Cocky. Arrogant. You profiled as he stood in front of Peter, towering over him.

Peter, still a prince, bowed to him as you did. “You’re younger than I expected.” The King’s voice was contradicting to his loud presence. His tone was even and steady like soft currents of a river or the expert strokes of a painter upon a canvas. You didn’t realize he was speaking to you until Peter called your name.

“King Steven, allow me to introduce my bride to be, Lady (Y/N).” Peter’s brow glistened with sweat though he stood tall. He was nervous. You could tell by the way his pitch was higher than it usually was. Under the king’s eye, he felt inferior. Insecure, even. Because although Peter was charming and slender, King Steven was intimidatingly handsome and built. Peter looked like a prince whereas Steven exuded the confidence of the king and looked like it, too.

You knew of the history between Brooklyn and Arachnia. There had been rumors that if Prince Peter could not get the crown, that the entire country would become part of Brooklyn’s, part of this other king’s domain.

“It’s a pleasure, my lady,” the king smiled at you and your eyes rounded as butterflies erupted from your stomach. He took your hand in his and you felt goosebumps rise all over your skin. A nervous, ragged breath escaped you as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss upon your knuckles like Peter’s done a million times.

But your reaction was different. Your face went hot, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You could feel it between your legs, a feeling you had never felt before. Pulsing. Throbbing.

King Steven’s hand lingered over yours for a few seconds more, thumb grazing your skin and over the sapphire. You suddenly felt embarrassed – as beautiful as the ring was, it was so large that it looked odd on your dainty hand.

“Beautiful ring,” he complimented with a nod to Peter. “Excellent taste.” It wasn’t clear if the king was complimenting the ring or the young woman who wore it and no one dared question such a distinguished man.

You pulled your hand away from his with a bow of your head. You couldn’t look him in the eye for a second more. “Thank you for joining us, your majesty.”

The king smiled at your fiancé before nodding. “I look forward to your coronation, Peter. I’m sure it’ll be a pleasant event.”

You forced a smile as you and your fiancé greeted the next guest. The pleasantries and introductions fell upon deaf ears because as you looked up, searching through the crowd, your eyes immediately found his already staring back at you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

It felt as if there was a party every single day. A festival in the courtyard. A feast every night. You began to wonder where was all this money coming from – were the people being taxed heavily for the enjoyment of the upper class? Lady Parker assured you that Arachnia was well funded and that where the expenses exceeded their budget, they were handled by King Anthony, who considered it an early marriage present.

You sat like a decorated ornament next to Peter, surrounded by the other royals at a round table. You felt out of place in a gown made from your town’s finest tailor whereas the queens and princesses around you wore one-of-a-kind pieces. You were reminded, again, that you were just an aristocrat’s daughter, the fiancé of a king sitting among the men and women that bards wrote songs about.

You felt as if you were set to be the butt of the joke in another round of ridicule as King Anthony drew his attention from teasing Peter to you.

“You,” he began, words a bit slurred due to the ale in his overflowing cup, “are very gorgeous. My love,” he directed to his wife, Queen Virginia, “don’t you agree?”

“Yes, you are a delight, Lady (Y/N).” The strawberry blonde smiled at you. You returned the smile, timidly.

“Likewise, your majesty,” you returned before nodding your head to the rest of the table. “All of you are wonderful.” Truthfully, many of their names went over your head and to save yourself the embarrassment, you refrained from calling any of them by name, only saying simple titles like your majesty and my lord or lady.

“Lady (Y/N),” the princess from the foreign land, Sokovia you think, called your attention. You believe her name was Wanda, or at least that was what the King of Hawksview called her. “Are you excited for whatever adventures marriage will bring you?” Her tone was drunk and teasing. It was clear what she was alluding to though you weren’t quite sure if you caught on.

“Oh, dear,” Peter chuckled, awkwardly, obviously understanding. His face a beet red as he patted your hand that sat on your lap. “Dove, you do not need to answer.”

“Dove?” King Steven, the one man you knew by name, questioned from across the round table. He sat directly in front of you and you swore he sat there deliberately.

“It’s what my father calls me,” you explained though your voice was a bit scratchy, your throat dry. You coughed before taking a sip from your barely touched ale, finding the taste quite revolting. You shifted uncomfortably in the seat as you felt the prying eyes of the Brooklyn King stare through you as if you were glass.

“Dove.” He repeated, trying the petname out. “Sweet. Innocent.”

“Oh, you stop teasing, Steve,” the woman with dark red hair rolled her eyes. You remembered her being called Nat though you did remember her from your history lessons. Queen Natalia Romanova of Widow’s Peak, the queen who paved the way for women on the battlefield. She was revered and you were in awe when you met her.

“If we’re teasing, shall we jest about how Steven has yet to marry?” The prince from Asgard laughed. He pushed his long black hair over his shoulder as his older brother, the blonde – the King – swatted at his forearm with the back of his hand as if to say be quiet.

Steven smirked, eyes shifting to his lap, before chuckling. “Laugh and tease all you want,” he said, grabbing his cup and bringing it to his lips.

“Why is it you haven’t married?” Queen Natasha’s husband, Bruce – you think – asked.

Attention shifted back to Brooklyn’s king as he shrugged, taking another swig from his cup. His eyes darted around the table as if gaging – studying – the group.

You found it odd. Many of the royals around you considered the others their closest friends, yet here he was, a mystery to them still. It was as if he was content with going unseen and unheard. You could understand.

“C’mon, Stevie,” King Anthony taunted with a pet name. The blonde’s jaw tensed for a moment but quickly released. You frowned at that – was there tension between the two kings? “Handsome, wealthy king with vast holdings and a powerful kingdom, yet no marriage? It’s like you’re not trying, Steven.”

The Brooklyn king chuckled again, brows lifting with an amused look. His eyes met yours and you felt your face go hot again. Your gown shifted underneath the table as your knee bumped Peter’s when you crossed your legs. He looked away.

“I would not get married simply because I need a crown,” his eyes shifted to Peter before shifting back to his cup, “or I need an alliance, or my country requires finances or resources. Brooklyn’s striving under my rule.” He said it so calmly and smugly as if he weren’t throwing condescending comments about his friends’ marriages right in front of them.

“If I were to get married,” Steven’s ocean eyes met yours again like the waves crashing into a shore, “it would be because I’m in love.”

You shifted in your seat, that pulsing, throbbing ache returning as you held his stare. You bit your lip before nervously breaking the eye contact to pick at the bread roll on your plate.

You suddenly jumped when Peter draped his arm around your shoulder, completely unaware that he was about to do so, too preoccupied to appear occupied. He shot you a worried glance, but you gave him a tight smile and a nod.

“Well, I, for one,” he smiled, “am marrying for love.” Peter pressed a kiss to your temple, and you felt your smile drop for a second. Just a mere second – maybe even less.

No one noticed, you assured yourself with a relieved exhale. You scanned the round table to find that everyone smiled at you and your fiancé with dopey grins, staring at the two children in love. However, Steven’s was different.

No… The king had a knowing smirk on his face as if to say, I saw.

»————-　⚜　————-«

With the coronation in a fortnight, you and Peter found yourselves on edge. Your shoulders always felt tense which left an ache in your neck, leaving you to rub out the knots but to no avail.

Peter’s nerves made him jittery. During meals, his leg bounced up and down with nerves. The sudden movement often shaking the table, leaving you in an annoyed silence. To cope with his pending coronation nerves, the young prince whisked himself into meaningless tasks and hobbies in hopes to distract himself.

Unfortunately, this meant that he often left you to yourself, leaving you to dwell in your unease on your own.

You confided in Lady Parker about your nerves though she returned your concern with a small frown. “You aren’t getting coronated, why are you nervous?” She chuckled dismissively. You nearly snapped then but was able to stop yourself before saying anything offensive to Lady Parker.

Deciding that your thoughts were better left unsaid, you isolated yourself in the stairwell on the south wing of the castle. In your time here at Arachnia, this quickly became your favorite spot. The south wing was nowhere near the bustling crowds of guests and their parties, making it the quietest place in the castle at times. There was a wide window that stood above the stairs; it brought in gorgeous sunlight and you often found yourself basking in its warmth.

However, with your troubled thoughts, the south wing stairwell’s window brought you no comfort at all as you gnawed on the bump on the inside of your cheek. It was a habit you picked up when you were being taught to be a lady – a lady is to be seen and never heard – so you opted to biting back your opinions and retorts, whether it be physical or metaphorical.

Though Lady Parker was right, the coronation was Peter’s worry alone, it would not only be Peter that would be judged and watched by the entire continent the moment that crown is on his head. Even now as a mere lady, the fiancé of their soon to be king, you were burdened with such scrutiny and you were sure that this would only increase three-fold once Peter was crowned king.

The pressures would only worsen once you were dubbed Peter’s queen.

So, you sat pensively in your thoughts near the top of the stairs as you enjoyed the last few months of peace you had left.

“For an engaged woman, I do find you alone too many times,” a voice took you from your thoughts as it carried through the empty stairwell. You looked up and met the amused smirk of King Steven Rogers.

You stood up from your spot and found your footing at the top of the staircase before you curtseyed. “Your majesty,” you greeted.

“Most brides tend to cling to their fiancé, fighting to be by their side every waking moment,” the king mused, quirking an eyebrow up, “but not you.”

“I suppose.”

“May I?” He gestured to the unoccupied seat next to you. You bit your lip before nodding, sitting down again, but this time with the king’s warmth next to you. “Is something on your mind, Lady (Y/N)?”

“No, your majesty,” you said a bit too quickly and he saw through you.

He tutted, knowingly. “I know a troubled lady when I see one,” he pressed. “Please, my lady, speak freely as if I am just a friend.”

“I hadn’t realized I was friends with a king,” you muttered. You felt his eyes on you as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and stared at your lap.

The conversation stilled as the silence built, but you found comfort in the king’s presence. Although his eyes made you uneasy and nervous, he brought you a strange sense of peace.

His soft chuckle pulled you from your thoughts again. “Lady (Y/N).” He said your name and you glanced over at him with a brow cocked up. “I noticed that you don’t speak, not often, at least.”

“I was taught to never speak unless spoken to.”

He scoffed. “That’s a habit that you’ll grow out of.” He saw confusion flash through your expression and smiled, gently. “A strong, respected queen demands attention as she enters a room. Every step she takes must be a stride of confidence so that no one ever questions her status.”

“A status that my husband, the king, gives me. I cannot over-step. I would undermine him.”

“Peter’s a king,” Steven corrected. “I never said you would over-step, but a true king would ensure that he and his queen are in equal footing.” He cocked his head to the side as he noticed your grimace. “You don’t like that.”

“I beg your pardon?” You asked before quickly added, “your majesty.”

“Being called his queen,” he clarified with a smile.

Panicked, you began, “I am humbled to wear his ring on my finger – that he considered me for marriage and that – “

“You are not on trial,” he interrupted, quickly with a laugh. “It’s merely an observation.” You nodded, awkwardly. “In my opinion, I feel as if a marriage – any marriage, whether royal or otherwise – is a partnership, but unfortunately, many see it as an ownership.”

“That’s just not how our society sees it.” You muttered with a shake of your head.

“Where is your fiancé? It’s too often that I find you alone. I shall share a word with him about his manners.” He joked and you laughed lightly at his attempt to lighten the mood.

You sighed, fidgeting with the sapphire on your finger. “He’s … preoccupied.”

Steve frowned at that but abruptly stood, stretching his hand out to you. “Then, come, my lady, I shall escort you to the festival to enjoy this beautiful day.”

Your hands flew to your face as you shook your head, defiantly. “Oh, god no!” You groaned. He amusedly raised his eyebrows at you. “I hate leaving the castle to join the others… Everyone just stares at me. It’s unsettling!”

Steve laughed and leaned down to pull you to your feet. Although you stood at the top of the staircase and he a few steps beneath you, he was still taller than you.

“They’re admiring their future queen,” he tried. He took your hands in his and you felt a shiver run down your spine as the goosebumps rose. “And from where I stand, I must say, she is truly a vision… Even if she’s moping.”

The butterflies didn’t cease to exist as they fluttered excitedly under his stare. You bit your lip and avoided eye contact, staring at your hands clasped in his. His words lifted your confidence, but his presence made you nervous and you didn’t quite understand why.

He whispered your name; fingers reaching out beneath your chin and lifted your chin. Blue eyes staring deep into your wide ones and for a split second he glanced down at your lips.

“You can tell me to stop.”

He was so close to you. Your noses were nearly touching.

“What if I don’t want you to?” You whispered. You held your breath, but he gladly stole it as he pressed his soft, plump lips onto yours.

You swore it was almost instinct… It had to be. You moved in sync. With your lips pressed against his, you felt this feeling of belonging – something you hadn’t felt in all your time in the palace of Arachnia, in all your life. In all your time spent with Peter, it never felt like this.

Your hands fisted his dirty blonde hair as his hands cupped your face, holding you there… keeping you in the moment and you swore time stopped.

You were breathless when you finally pulled away. Eyes wide in realization.

You had just given your first kiss away to a man that wasn’t your fiancé and there was no ounce of regret in either of you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

Time passed so slowly when all you’d wish for was that it’d up – skipping to a time where you and Peter were already married and the royals have all vacated Arachnia and back to their own lands, where the king that occupied your mind was long gone.

In the days that followed, you avoided each like the plague. You’d turn the corner and see Peter then immediately turn the other way or you’d bow your head down so low so that you could avoid Steven’s fixated stare as you passed him in the corridors.

The only time you couldn’t escape the two was during meals. Although during breakfast and lunch you usually spent alone, it was during the feasts of dinner that you could not escape the lingering stare of King Steven nor the possessive arm of Prince Peter.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Peter whispered in your ear. You were guilt-ridden as you stared at the concern that filled his deep brown eyes. You muttered that you were alright just a bit tired although under the king’s eyes you have never felt more alive. But he accepted your answer nonetheless.

“Are we interrupting,” teased King Anthony with a playful grin. “Shall we order the absence of everyone in the room so that you two may have all the privacy in the world?” His wife slapped his shoulder with a chuckle as you and Peter bashfully apologized – Peter because he was truly embarrassed for being caught whispering in your ear and you because you felt Steven’s eyes staring through your soul. “Tell us, Lady (Y/N), how did such a lovely lady such as yourself end up with a brute of a prince like Peter?”

You swallowed as all their attention turned to you. You stared across the table at King Steven who eyed you with a smirk. His elbows rested on the table with his hands clasped together, head resting on top of his knuckles, as if taunting you, egging you on. You tore your eyes away as you focused on your lap.

“Well… uh – “

“We met at her brother’s party,” Peter announced, proudly. You took your cue and nodded with a small grin and kept silent. “My father and hers were friends before he passed, and so they invited my aunt and I. We had no choice but to accept, and thankfully, we did. She was truly a sight, this one.” You forced a laugh as the other chuckled. “I knew then she had to be mine, this little dove.”

You grimaced but quickly covered it up by grabbing your cup of untouched ale. Your eyes flicked over to Steven who was already staring at you. He cocked an eyebrow up at you as your eyes met. You brought the ale to your lips and he stared as your lips pressed against the rip of the chalice but never drank anything.

The conversation drifted to another topic, but you excused yourself, telling Peter you were exhausted. He nodded with a smile and leaned in to kiss you and your eyes widened, turning your head – had he wanted your first kiss to be in front of all these people? Marking you as his? His lips pressed against your cheek and you muttered goodbye to him and bid a goodnight to the others.

You wondered aimlessly throughout the corridors, lost in your thoughts. With everyone in the grand hall for dinner, the castle was felt empty, and your shoes clicked against the tiles and echoed through the halls. After minutes of silent walking, you felt the hairs at the back of your neck prick up and goosebumps run down your arms.

You turned to find the dark hallway staring back at you. You frowned before you turned and ran into a sturdy build of a man.

“I thought you retired for the night?” and you recognized the voice immediately.

“Your majesty,” you whispered, bowing awkwardly to King Steven.

He chuckled as you apologized frantically. He shushed you, seizing your hands but you snatched them away. Steven frowned. “You’re avoiding me.”

“What happened shouldn’t have happened,” you hissed.

A playful smirk replaced his scowl as he tilted his head, tauntingly. “But you could’ve stopped me. You could’ve said no.”

“Of course,” you chuckled dryly. “It’s always the woman’s fault. Men can never take responsibility for their misdoings and kings,” you spat out as if it were poison on your tongue. “are no better.”

“Was it your first kiss?”

Your tongue darted out and wet your bottom lip and you didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced down. Embarrassment washed over you like a wave as your shoulders slumped. Were you that bad?

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have known… but you were a natural – “

“Don’t flatter me.” You snapped and he laughed.

“So, I had the honor of being your first kiss…” He muttered. Steven’s hand grabbed your bicep, which was significantly smaller than his, and pulled you closer to him.

“Your majesty – “He shushed you as he kissed you again in that corridor, but you pulled away abruptly, not allowing yourself to melt into him. “We can’t. I am engaged to the prince.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “But you don’t want to be. Others may dismiss it as nerves, cold feet, even, but,” he tsked, “I know better.”

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.” He whispered. “Enough to know that I want you.”

“I have to be married to the prince. I wear his ring. I live in his castle.”

“And enjoy a loveless marriage? He can dote on you and you can learn to love him, yes… I’ve seen it in my parents’ union and in my friends’, but you’ll never truly be happy, no…” He told you, brows furrowed and shook his head.

“And I’d be happy as your mistress?” You scoffed, shaking your head, but you made no motions to step away. “A noblewoman reduced to nothing but a king’s play-thing? The dishonor, the shame – “

“I never said you’d be my mistress.” Steven shook his head as he cupped your jaw.

“And you intend to marry me?” You laughed as if he had said the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. And it was. It was hilarious to think that he was being anything but truthful. You were sure he was jesting with you. Empty words. Empty promises. But his stare was serious.

“I want you.”

“You want the idea of me,” you corrected. “The idea that you can take another king’s wife. Kings throughout history are all the same. Covet another man’s wife, his property, or his land. Just to prove you are better.” You shook your head. “It’s a pissing contest for you. It’s treason for me.”

“I am a king.” He told you and you rolled your eyes.

“Not mine.” You whispered. “Your teasing, your jokes. Your eyes… they linger in a way only Peter’s should, and it has to stop.”

“I want you.” He repeated. “And I know you want me, too.”

“I don’t – “

“Or else you would’ve walked away. You could’ve pulled your arm from me – I’m not holding onto you tightly. You could’ve run off to your little prince, but you’re avoiding him, too. Is it guilt, my lady?” He asked you, leaning down and whispering into your ear. Your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, kissing the skin beneath it. “Because you know you don’t want the boy… but you’re too kind to hurt him.”

“You’re trying to get me killed.” You stifled a moan as his lips left a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “Shunned and humiliated – “

“I want to be yours,” he confessed.

A sudden burst of laughter had you jump from each other. Your back pressed against the wall as he took a step back with a smirk. In the distance, you could hear drunken men and their courtesans stumble about the castle, doors slamming shut. The feast must’ve been over, and the halls were soon to be crowded again.

You two held each other’s stares as you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The moonlight that slipped through the curtains of the windows had his deep blue eyes gleaming and he was marvelous view.

»————-　⚜　————-«

The room was stuffy and the jewelry that adorned your neck and wrists were heavy. They weighed you down as if to remind you of the pressures that your new life held – what lay ahead of you. The dress you wore was a combination of white and gold. You looked regal like the betrothed of a king should look like. You stood in the crowd next to King Anthony and his wife, behind you was King Steven and his piercing stare.

The feelings that you held for Steven were wrong and you knew that. You often wished that Peter had been flawed – an unfaithful man or a cruel one but he was the opposite. He was kind and gentle albeit a bit dismissive or not present at times. The guilt gnawed at you each time you and the Brooklyn king met behind closed doors, or in the secluded library, or in the depths of the rose garden, planted especially for you by Peter’s order, but you didn’t care.

It was innocent, really – at least that’s what you told yourself. The meetings always started the same. Bickering and joking. He had even taken an interest in tutoring you about chess – “a game for kings,” he would say. Although he had beat you every game, you never minded because all the meetings ended the same – with your lips pressed against his and you melting into his touch.

The crowds all stood as Peter entered the throne room. He was dressed as a king in his house colors – red, blue, gold. He was sweaty and his hands were clasped together nervously. He shot a glance your way as he walked by and you gave him a soft, encouraging nod. He returned it with a smile as he kneeled before the throne.

The priest slipped a ring on his finger and he was later handed the scepter and the orb. You caught the way the scepter slipped due to his clammy hands – not too much but just enough to have him fumble. Behind you, you heard Steven chuckle and you shot him a look as if to tell him to behave and he shook his head at you with a grin.

The crown was placed onto Peter’s head and he hesitantly stood. He was unbalanced, weighed down, but he took each step towards the throne with stride and a proud smile.

“Long live the king!” You and the entire crowd chanted in unison though you were almost certain that Steven didn’t say a word.

The party held afterwards was filled with dancing and music, but you were tied to Peter’s side the entire evening as he thanked his guests and accepted their congratulations, all eager to get in favor with their new king.

Instead of the usual round table, Peter and his family – Lady Parker and you – were seated in a long table at the front of the grand hall. The rest of the royals scattered in other tables near yours. You picked at your food, boredom sinking in as another nobleman approached.

You glanced up and met Steven’s eyes. He brought his chalice up as if to salute you and you softly laughed before turning your attention to the duke. The conversation was dull with fake pleasantries and complaints of lost land – Peter promised the duke that he would look into it. You remembered Steven tell you that kings should make no promises that he could not uphold. and you wondered if Peter had any intentions of honoring it.

“Do you want to dance?” Peter asked you after the man left, offering you his hand. You smiled and nodded, taking it.

He pulled you onto the dancefloor, joining the other couples. Peter’s hold on you was tight as if you would run away or disappear. The crown on his head was just a little big and would slip over his forehead. You’d giggle and push it back up.

He pulled you close to him and swayed to the music. “This is grand,” he told you. “The crown, a beautiful bride.” You hummed in agreement though you didn’t entirely adore the idea – not as much as you used to. You hated being compared to that awful crown as if you were just an accessory to him. “And … In a few days’ time, my dove, we are to be wed.”

“What?” You shook your head with a dry laugh, taking it as a joke. “Your high – majesty,” you corrected, and he beamed at the title, “we are set to be married in the late spring. Not in a few days.”

Peter frowned. “Had no told you?” You shook your head, no. He sighed. “I suppose I should’ve… The council believes that it’s best we get married immediately. Now, that I’ve got the crown, they say I need heirs,” you blanched at the idea, “and besides, the other royal families of Marvel are already here.” Your breath hitched as the realization set it. “Well, aside from King Steven, he’s one to never attend weddings.”

“Peter – “you shook your head. The panic beginning to rise. Despite being trained for this very day since you were young, you were convinced you weren’t ready. You told yourself the anxiety was from the idea of being queen, but the truth was – the anxiety was from the idea of being wed… to Peter.

“May I cut in?” You didn’t hear Peter’s response just that a pair of familiar hands seized yours and your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “Are you okay?”

You stared up at Steven’s worried eyes, brows lifted and lines of concern all over his forehead. You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You hated the idea that you would be Peter’s completely, and that Steven would never be yours.

“Peter said we are to be wed in a few days,” you uttered. The words didn’t feel right. Your voice was shaking as you held back your tears. Steven’s jaw dropped before he nodded. “Steve,” his eyes stared into yours, “I don’t want this.”

“And what is it do you want?” Steven asked you. He was hopeful although naively so. And in many ways, you were as well to believe that your affections for Steven could extend to something more. But reality set in, you were engaged to a king – just not the king you wanted.

“I want to marry you,” you confessed though voice hushed, afraid that any ears would hear your treasonous words. You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him before shaking your head. The idea that you fell in love with a man after knowing him for only three weeks was preposterous. “Or at least… that I want to be with you.”

Steven smiled softly at your confession – words he had been hoping to hear ever since he cornered you in the empty hallway. He leaned in and your eyes widened, but he brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “keep your chamber doors unlocked tonight.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

One of the peculiar things about your move to Arachnia’s palace was your bedroom. It was rather enormous for the fiancé of the now king. When you first arrived, you expected a room modest in size though not as big as this – especially since you’d move into Peter’s chambers once you were married. The mattress was pressed against the back wall between two large windows that never opened. Bookshelves filled with novels though no work area – no desk or study. Instead, you were given a vanity. Besides those pieces, the room was pure empty space.

You used to joke to yourself that you were just a prisoner who adorned the prince’s, now king’s, jewels and a fine title.

You stood by the window, watching the fireworks that celebrated the coronation. You swore you could see the towns in the distance, all lit up with anticipation. Peter would soon be making his rounds throughout the country as its official king. Would it happen before you were married or after? Would you be asked to join him as his queen?

You stared down at your ring finger. The sapphire staring tauntingly back at you. It shackled you to a man you didn’t want. It reminded you of your family’s side eyes and low whispers when you didn’t immediately get married once you were of age, or the hushed voices and stares of the other nobles as they judged your every move calling you unworthy to marry a prince, let alone a king.

And all you could think was – to hell with it all.

A soft knock was heard from the wooden door of the chamber and you walked towards it. The stone tiles were cold against your bare feet and the doorknob even colder against your already freezing hand. With a twist of the doorknob, a smile formed on your lips as Steven came to view.

You hurriedly pulled him inside, eyes scanning the now empty hallway, before closing it.

He eyed you up and down and smiled, admiring you – hair undone and natural, face free of any makeup or colors staining your cheeks or lips, no gown with a corset that clung onto your body that left you with no room to breathe.

You were beautiful and oh, how he’d kill to see you like this every day.

“Did anyone see you?” You asked him, softly, though within the thick walls of the castles and in the privacy of your chambers no one would hear you.

Steven shook his head, one hand finding your waist and the other cupping the side of your face. “They never do, do they?” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You pulled away, leaning into his chest, settling into his warmth. You loved being in his embrace – it was safe and warm like a small cottage in the countryside with no judgmental stares or rumors whispered about.

You realize you could live like this until your last day – and with your intentions, that final day might be quickly approaching. “Why is it you asked to meet me here?”

Steven’s jaw ticked. Truthfully, he had no real answer. He could’ve asked to meet anywhere, and the risks were just the same. The mere act of meeting you in private was damning, no matter what he intended.

He thought that admiring you from across a crowded room, under the cover of hundreds all staring at you, too, would be enough. He thought his eyes would go unnoticed. He told himself that his attraction would be fleeting, but it wasn’t – and it became clear the moment he pressed his lips against yours at the top of the south stairwell.

“Steve?”

He sighed. “I… I’m not quite sure if I’m honest with you, Lady (Y/N).”

You smiled to yourself. In the time you’ve known King Steven, he had always been so smug, so confident. Every step had a direction and every word so sure, but you’ve reduced him to a man begging for the affection of a woman.

You pulled yourself from his chest and stared up at him before you stood on the tips of your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

It was as if you two were molded together or made from the same cloth. Lips pressed together as if they had always belonged there.

His large hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his tapered waist. You felt the heat rise to your face when that familiar throbbing feeling between your legs came back – and with your cunt pressed against the middle of his body, you were sure he could feel it, too.

Your back pressed against the soft, silk sheets of your bed. Steven draped over you like ivy covering the castle’s stone walls.

The framework creaked beneath your combined weight as he began to grind aimlessly against your center, eliciting a gasp from you as it helped the ache from deep within you.

He smirked into the kiss, but you caught him off guard yet again when you whispered, “I – I want you.” He pulled away, taken back. “I want all of you, Steve, please – “

“(Y/N) – “

He began to climb off you, but you sat up, hands cupping his face and staring deep into his eyes. You shook your head as you gave him a quick kiss.

Foreheads touching, you told him, “if I am to go marry and live in this hell, I might as well be granted a taste of heaven.”

“You will be ruined – “he whispered though the idea made his cock twitch in his trousers. You jumped as you felt it too.

You shook your head again, “how can you ruin anything, Steve?”

Steve licked his lips as he tried to fight off his morals. The devil and the angel on his shoulders disappeared and became one – the beautiful maiden beneath him, begging for him to take her.

“If we do this,” he whispered as he nudged your cheek, lips kissing your jaw, “there will be no going back, (Y/N).”

“I want to be yours, Steve,” you told him, honestly. “I – I love you.”

And that’s all it took to have his lips ravish yours, hands roaming, desperately grabbing on to what he could. He pulled away and grabbed your hand. He slid the ring off your finger, tossing it onto the table next to your bed before he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You heard a rip and you gasped as the cold air hit your bare skin. Steven’s hands pushed the torn fabric off away from your body, throwing the ruined white silk behind his shoulder.

He pulled away from you, admiring the view beneath him – the woman spread out before him like an offering, nipples perked in the cold winter air, mouth ajar as she panted, and the perfect, untouched pussy.

“I love you, too.”

He began to undress, and you couldn’t take your eyes off this Herculean being in front of you. He was thick and broad, the muscles that were arranged all over his body were hypnotizing as were the scars undoubtfully from all his training and his time spent in wars.

He was a god in the body of the king, and you wondered how you got so lucky.

Steven began to undo the strings that held his pants up and you watched with you lip between your teeth. The anticipation, alone, killed you. He pushed down his pants and your eyes widened at his massive cock – tanner than the rest of his skin, with a red angry tip, thick veins, and clear liquid coming from it.

He saw your uncertain expression and he raised his brows at you. “I – I –“you began to stammer.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, little one,” Steven whispered. His hands reached out and cupped your cheek, hungry eyes scanned your body and your mouth went dry. The throbbing within you was relentless and made you clench your thighs together. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes looked away, bashfully, as his hands explored you – cupping your breasts and tracing the curves of your body. All Steven wanted was for all of you to be his.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you hesitantly looked back at him. He had a soft smile and adoring eyes as his fingers slipped through your folds. You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered closed as the ache was relieved by his touch. “Look at me,” Steven repeated, and you forced your eyes open to stare at him. Your lover smirked as he found your small bundle of nerves and rubbed tight circles around it.

It felt as if something within you had blossomed and you couldn’t help but grind into his touch, but he tutted at you, using his free hand to hold your hips down. “You’re soaked, my love,” Steven whispered, leaning down, and nipping at the base of your neck. Hard enough for you to gasp but not enough to leave marks. “Already so wet and I’ve yet to do anything.”

“It’s just my reaction to you,” you confessed, heat rising to your face.

You tried to avert your eyes away from his piercing stare, but he tsked and pinched your inner thigh. You hissed in return and brought your stare back to him. “Don’t make me tell you again, (Y/N),” Steven warned.

You nodded, speechless as his fingers wandered further down, ghosting over your untouched opening. You let out a shaky breath.

“Steven – “you moaned as he sunk one long, thick, skilled finger inside of you.

“You’re so tight,” the king noted with a smirk. He relished in the idea that he would be the first to have you and he wished that he’d be the only one to have you forever.

“Steven, I want you… Please – “

He tsked at you with a quick shake of his head. His lips pressed against yours again, silencing your soft whines and protests. “I need to open you up, my love,” he told you, lips still against yours, “or else you might get hurt.” He pressed another finger into you, and you pulled away from his lips.

The back of your head pressed against the mattress as another moan escaped you. The king began to scissor your opening. The stretch was tolerable though still uncomfortable and had your breath shuddering.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised you, nose tracing your jaw. His lips kissed the column of your throat.

You groaned when his fingers began to thrust, opening you up to him. You heard the faint sound of your arousal on his fingers, the wetness spilling onto your thighs, too. Your hands tangled up into the king’s long, dark blonde hair, pulling him into you as he added a third finger, effectively stretching you out.

“Are you alright?” He asked you, fingers thrusting into you in a rhythm of their own. You nodded, eyes staring at the top of the canopy over your bed and hands pushing the king flush against you’re the joint between your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there, trying not to suck on it to leave you with his marks – marks that young Peter would undoubtfully see on your wedding night.

You gasped as you felt this tightening knot in the depths of your stomach. “You almost there, my love?” Steven asked and you nodded though you weren’t sure where there was. Your thighs tightened around him. You whined when his fingers left your heated core right on the precipice of pleasure, leaving you with an emptiness. Steven chuckled.

“I was – “

“First time you get to cum will be around my cock,” he told you brazenly and it felt as if your entire body flushed at his words. He brought his fingers to his lips and your eyes widened when he began to suck on them, and he groaned. “You taste so sweet, my lady.” The king quirked up an eyebrow at your curious expression as he swiped his fingers against your lips. “Have a taste, my love.”

Your tongue reluctantly darted out over your lips, gathering the sweet yet musky taste of your essence. Your hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist and bringing his fingers to your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his index and middle finger and sucked carefully as he did, and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh at the sight.

He watched you intently as you cleaned off his fingers, his free hand stroking his throbbing dick. He swiped the tip against your slit, causing your body to shudder when he bumped your clit.

He took his fingers from your mouth and both hands held your waist. Instinctively, your pushed your knees further apart, opening up to him. Steven’s blue eyes flicked up to you as he pressed his tip against your heat.

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

You threw your head back as he began to press into you, the pressure unbearable and made your entire body tense. The king began to hush you, holding still. One of his hands caressed the side of your face, combing through your hair. “You need to relax, my love,” he cooed.

You muttered an incoherent agreement as you tried to will your muscles to loosen. You heard the squelching sound of your cunt engulfing the man, slowly. Your hand flew to his wrist and grabbed onto it, unsure of what to do.

He praised you as the tip slipped in along with an inch or two, but he was nowhere close to bottoming out. The king began to pull back, only leaving the tip in before pushing in more of him. You hissed again as he pressed past the thin veil of your innocence, being the first and only man to tear through it.

His cock was no match for his fingers, being much thicker and so much longer. You tried to even your breathing and he chuckled. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Taking me so well… Look…”

His nose nudged the side of your cheek and you slowly craned your neck to look down as he bottomed out completely – his public bone flush against your clit. Your mouth watered at the sight as he slowly pulled out an inch or two. You took a sharp breath when you saw the faint strips of red on his length.

The king began to rock into you slowly and you couldn’t take your eyes away from where you were connected. The pain, although still there from the burning stretch, was incomparable to the pleasure when his tip brushed against a certain part of your canal.

You moaned, loudly, head thrown back, exposing your throat to him. Steven kissed the hollowness before capturing your lips in his. “I love you,” he murmured into the kiss as his hips began to speed up. Your own matching his thrusts.

The sound of skin clapping against each other echoed throughout the enormous room and you felt yourself clench against him.

He groaned in return. In one quick motion, the king hoisted your knees over his shoulder, giving him a much deeper angle to take you from. He thrusted so hard and so deeply that you swore you felt him in your chest.

You moaned his name as your hands grabbed your breasts. He watched with a smirk as you fondled yourself and one of his hands began to rub tight circles around your swollen clit again. Your back arched at the sensation.

“I’m gonna fill you up, my love,” he told you. “Have you fall pregnant with my child. Watch you swell…” It was a fantasy, on Steven’s behalf. He’d always wanted a wife and children but never found the right partner until you. “Do you want that, little one? Do you want my children?”

“I want you, Steven,” you moaned. No coherent thoughts were forming as the familiar tight knot in your stomach suddenly snapped. Your hips ground up against his as your walls tightened around the king, milking him, and pushing him over the edge.

Steven thrusts faltered, leaving his rhythm, and pushed deeply into you one last time. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and you felt each spurt, covering your walls in his white.

You two laid on top each other, legs entangled, and bodies intertwined like lovers. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you said, “I love you, Steven.”

And in that moment, all was right.

»————-　⚜　————-«

“What?”

The disbelief in each of their tones hung in the air. The councilmen shook their heads in shock as Peter stared at you from the throne with his brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“I beg your pardon, Lady (Y/N).” One of the men said.

“My lords, my king,” you addressed with a bow of your head. “I asked for this meeting to tell you that I am incredibly humbled to have been homed here in the palace of Arachnia and to be the betrothed of the prince – king – to have witnessed you be crowned, your majesty… But I,” you swallowed and took a deep breath. “I do not want to marry you.”

“What brought this on?” Peter asked you as he leaned into his throne. He eyed you, suspiciously, eyes glancing over your figure. Although the new king had been wrapped up in several meetings ever since his coronation, he noticed the change in you – the way your body filled out, hips wider and the glow in your complexion. You looked more radiant than you usually were and much happier. Though he wasn’t sure what was the cause, he was certain it had not been him but he refused to believe it was another.

“I cannot believe this!”

“We’ve wasted all this time preparing a marriage!”

“How dare she – “

“He needs a bride to keep his crown.”

“Silence,” Peter ordered the men and their murmurs quickly disappeared. Words and unfinished sentences hung in the air. “What brought this on, my lady?”

You cleared your throat as you took a step forward. “Your majesty, I … I am not meant to be your queen.”

Peter nodded in contemplation and you were hopeful. He had always been understanding. He would’ve surely granted you a swift exit from this engagement without another – “No.” And just like that your hopes were dashed. “You are to remain my betrothed as you have been for months.”

“But Pete – “

“Our wedding is in days!” Peter snapped and your eyes flicked to the floor. “And you want to end our engagement now? You had months to concede – “

“I was afraid!” You objected. The lords stared on as your voice rose higher than the king’s. The tone, the higher octave, may have been from a moment of frustration, but the men in the throne room saw it as one thing only: a lady undermining her king.

“Afraid?” He scoffed. “Of what? Of me? My lady, I am not a cruel man – “

“Then grant me my wish. Release me from this engagement.” You begged.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “We are to be married in a few days’ time.” You saw how his kind eyes darkened as he frowned at you. “You do your best to rid of your cold feet now, my lady.”

Defeated, you rushed out of the throne room. Several servants and other nobles stared with confused expressions as you ran past with tears in your eyes – running to the only man that understood you, the only man that could help.

You banged against his chamber doors, desperate for him to whisk you away.

“Steven!” You called when the door suddenly opened to reveal a maid. Her arms were full of linens and you stared at her in confusion.

She quickly curtseyed to you and cocked her head to the side. “My lady, have you been crying?”

“No,” you shook your head, jaw clenched, though your sniffle gave you away. “Where’s King Steven?”

“He left this afternoon, my lady.” She told you.

“What?” You felt the color drain from your face. You shook your head at her as if she were wrong. He wouldn’t have left you – not like this. “No… There must be a mistake. Steven – King Steven – “

She frowned before shaking her head. “No, my lady… The Brooklyn King left hours ago. If you had wanted to know, I would’ve told you. I had no idea you two were so close.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Though the maid had been kind in her intention, you heard the accusation loud and clear.

A shaky breath left you as you forced a smile. “No,” you said shaking your head again, “no… The king, our king, Peter and I were hoping he’d attend our… our marriage.” The word felt heavy on your tongue as the world around you began to crash down. “I suppose, we were too naïve to believe he’d stay.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

The barren winter trees passed by in blurs as Steven stared out the carriage window. The bickering of his two friends and advisors, Lord Samuel Wilson and James Barnes, became background noise to his pensive thoughts.

He wondered how you were – were you as devasted as he was? Would you understand if he told you the truth – that he, though desperately and completely in love with you, could not have you? That his overstep, his coveting of Peter Parker’s fiancé, may reignite a feud long buried between Arachnia and Brooklyn.

That as a king, it was his duty to put a stop to a potential war.

Though as a man, he knew his duty was to you and may always be.

“The girl,” Barnes’s mention of your name had him turning from the window and towards the two men, “she seems well. A great match for the young king.”

Steve scoffed. Although he knew his opinion was heavily biased, he knew that you were most certainly not a good match for the Parker boy. Peter would have you as a decorated figurehead – a pretty woman on his arm for the world to see – while Steven wanted so much more in your forbidden union.

“I see you disagree,” Samuel nodded to his king. Steven sat in silence and the two lords shot a knowing glance at the other. “They are to be wed in a few days.” Steven hummed though the two didn’t miss the way his hand formed a fist over his knee.

“The sooner the better, I suppose,” James nodded, eyeing Steven wearily. “Peter, being so young and the last of his line, he needs an heir quickly.” The king shifted in the carriage and they felt the entire cart jolt with his fury. “Steven, I address this as your friend, nothing more, but what is your issue?”

“Nothing.” Steven said quickly and he scolded himself. He felt like a young boy throwing a tantrum with his mother.

James raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his king and childhood friend. “The girl has piqued your interest, hasn’t she?” His friend’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. “Steve – “

“I know,” Steven snapped. “I know it is wrong to want another man – “he scoffed, “child’s bride…”

“And yet you still do?” Samuel asked. “Steve, the consequences of your feelings,” he shook his head, “it will incite an unnecessary war… and over what? A girl?”

“If she’s a war, then I will fight.”

“A love blind man’s word… Not a king’s.” Samuel rebutted.

“Why did you leave her, then? You could’ve stowed her away in this carriage with us. You could’ve stolen her from under Peter��s nose. Why didn’t you?” James quizzed.

With a defeated sigh, Steven said, “it’s for her own good. My affections for her, whatever my heart says or hers, it will get her killed. Arachnia will not take lightly to her betrayal of their king.”

James nodded in agreement. “You’re saving her. This is for the best, my friend. For if you listened to your heart instead of your head, she will be a casualty in a pointless war.”

“It’s difficult,” Steven confessed, “to have let her go. And it’s something I will regret for the rest of my life.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

ONE YEAR LATER…

Your entire family cooed at the fussing three-month-old in the king’s arms. The child continue to wail and thrash, finding discomfort in your husband. “Argh!” He glanced over to you as if asking for your help. You stifled a laugh as you walked over, seizing your baby from him. “She prefers her mother over me.” He joked as the babe almost instantly calmed in your arms.

“Have you chosen a godparent, yet, your majesty?” Your father asked you, subtly pushing your older brother forward as a silent suggestion. You rolled your eyes.

The king ran a hand over his brown curls and shook his head at your father. “No, my lord, we have yet to choose.” Peter nodded in your direction. “I thought since most of baby Fallon’s life will be decided by me, his mother should have a say in that.”

Your father chuckled with a shake of his head. He clasped a hand on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to shrug it off. “Indecisive, this one, isn’t she?”

Peter glanced your way, “you have no idea.” The two men laughed, and you gnawed at the knob in the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. Fallon yawned and you gave Peter a look. “I suppose, we should all greet our guests.”

“Oh, yes,” you nodded, “the christening. You go ahead, Peter. Someone should stay with Fallon.”

“Oh, nonsense, girl,” your father told you. “The nanny will – “

“She is my child and I will care for her. I do not need a nanny.” You snapped, your bottled up frustrations slowly bursting.

Peter laughed awkwardly, hands finding your waist though you pulled away from him. He coughed. “It’s the separation anxiety,” he joked with your father.

“Well, I never had that,” your mother piped up.

Of course, you didn’t. You sent me away as soon as Peter asked. You bit back the response.

Your family began to vacate the nursery and you felt a bit of relief. You felt Peter’s hands on your hips. You tensed when you felt his lips ghost over your ear. “Why don’t you join me in greeting our guests?” He asked you.

You shrugged him off. “I want to be alone.”

The young king sighed before releasing his hold on you. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to you again. “You do realize your duty is not only to Fallon? It is to me and my kingdom as well.”

“I understand that my duty was to give you an heir,” you deadpanned. “I have done just that.”

“You have given me a daughter. Not an heir.” You glared at him and he immediately silenced.

“A daughter is an heir. Do not dare discredit her birthright because of her sex!” The babe began to stir in your arms and let out a small cry. You immediately shushed her, coddling her in your arms and she began to quiet.

You heard him sigh, defeatedly, before the door slammed shut again.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you stared at the child in your arms. Many times, you found peace in Fallon’s presence, but as time went on and as the child began to resemble her father, you began to worry. Though Fallon had adorable dark curls, she had striking blue eyes – ones that undoubtfully belonged to her father.

On the day you were to wed Peter, he had gotten caught up in the affairs of the state. The wedding was quickly rescheduled for two weeks after despite the protests of the nobles and royals who had all stayed extra days to witness your union. As you were doing the final adjustments to your gown, you realized you were due for a bleed that had yet to come and a sickening feeling of realization ran erupted through you. You did not consummate that night – your nerves and guilt making you sick to your stomach.

But you decided that you would survive – if not for yourself, then the life within you, the life in your arms now.

Moments later, the door creaked open and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Peter, I said I wanted to be alone – “in the silence, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand and a shiver run down your spine. A familiar feeling you wanted to forget. You turned around and your eyes widened. All the fury you felt, the regrets, the pain – all of it – melted in an instant.

“Steve.”

He stared at you with adoring eyes. You had grown more beautiful if that were even possible. Your glowed, motherhood becoming you. “(Y/N).”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You shook your head.

“You weren’t with Peter,” the Brooklyn king told you. “I thought you may have been with your child…” He chuckled. “Near the south wing, next to the staircase.”

“I love the sunlight it brings in.” You muttered. “Peter never lets Fallon out of the castle, so I suppose, it’s a substitute.” Steven nodded.

After beats of silence and longing stares, Steve finally said, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” You nodded. “At first I was angry. I cursed your name in the dead of night. I wished you were dead and I often pretended so.”

“I deserve worse.”

You laughed. “You do.”

“I did it because I was afraid if I took you from him, in a furious rage, he’d strike you down. You are not of Brooklyn. I could not protect you against your own king.” Steven explained.

You nodded. “I told you. I would marry into hell.”

“Has he been cruel?” Steven frowned, his fury slowly rising and hands forming fists.

You shook your head. “No, far from it, actually.” You chuckled humorlessly. “In fact, perhaps, I’ve been the cruel one. I push him away because I don’t want Falon to believe that he is her father – “

“What?”

You glanced down at the child in your arms and beckoned Steven with a cock of your head. The king slowly walked over to you and the babe. Steven’s eyes watered slightly as he stared at the small creation. “She’s … she’s mine?”

You nodded. “They pushed the wedding back two weeks and I didn’t… uh… I didn’t bleed… and I knew then. We didn’t consummate,” you saw how he frowned at that, “until a week or so after. I was with child not long after.”

“How do you know?” He asked you. “Not to be accusatory, but – “

“She has your eyes.” You smiled. “Every time she stares at me, it’s as if you are.”

“She looks like me,” Steven smiled, a gentle finger caressing the child’s plump cheeks. You nodded in agreement.

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked and he eagerly nodded. He took the child from you and you felt your heart swell when Fallon didn’t immediately begin to fuss like she would with Peter. “She likes you.”

“I hope so. I’m her father, after all.”

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder, both admiring the life that you both created. You imagined that this was your life… just for a moment. That you weren’t in Arachnia but in Brooklyn, bearing Steven’s name rather than Peter’s… Married to the one who truly held your heart.

You sighed, finding the calm in your daughter and your lover.

And in that moment… all was right.

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