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elixirfromthestars · 3 months ago

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A Night of Frights & Delights

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Word Count: 7k

Warning(s): slight horror themes / suggestive tones + implications / mentions of a past murder (not in graphic detail just campfire storytelling) / slow burn / suspense + other elements of spookiness / touch starved elements / be prepared for lots of back and forth + tension

Prompt: Campsite + forced proximity + “ It’s not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we’ve gotta have a full moon too?”

a/n: here’s my entry for @witchywithwhiskey ‘s summer slasher writing challenge. Any chance to celebrate summerween and I’m there 🤭✨ I got carried away with the spooky element of it and this ended up longer than expected. Thank you for reading! 🧡 Feedback is always appreciated!! 🎃🧡

a steamy part two ❤️‍🔥

“ It’s Friday the 13th! Gather ‘round, for some good ol’ scary campfire stories!” Sam Wilson called out to anyone who would listen. A task that wasn’t the easiest thing to ask for when all the college students in the area were trying to have their last bit of fun before fall semester started. Amongst the ones that weren’t already drunk or passed out, a few were trying to find the perfect opportunity to sneak away into the night.

You on the other hand sat near the bonfire, appreciating the warmth it provided on this chilly night. Your back was resting against a log. The scratchy surface grazes against your black sweater at the slightest movement. Camping wasn’t your ideal choice for a weekend getaway, but when your best friend Jane insisted on you coming along it was hard to say no. Especially, since you had already said no to multiple get-togethers throughout the summer.

It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with her. The issue was that wherever she was her boyfriend was—and wherever he was his friends were. And his friends included one smartass star pitcher for your university’s baseball team who made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in your side.

Needless to say, you couldn’t stand the man.

“ It was actually 1982, not 1985,” Jane whispers her comment to you, nudging your arm lightly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, your clueless eyes meeting her amused ones.

“ You’re not paying attention to Sam’s story, are you?” She quietly calls you out, leaning slightly closer. You shake your head sheepishly,“ No. Kind of got lost in thought,” you admit. Jane nods in acknowledgment,“ You’re not missing much. He’s just telling the story of the murders that happened here in ‘82,” she explains. You nod slowly, an eerie chill creeping up your spine. Everyone within fifty miles of the town knew of the horrific crime. It was the worst the town had ever seen.

A group of teenagers had snuck off into the woods to party a week before their senior graduation. They brought their camping gear to spend the night under the full moon to celebrate the milestone. They had gone so deep into the woods no one heard their music blasting all night.

No one heard their screams either as their life was taken from them.

You took a shaky breath, your fingers tracing random patterns into the dirt beneath you. Even though you could recite this story from memory it was different hearing it told in gruesome detail. Something Sam was not shying away from doing.

“ Don’t let Sam’s story get to you—here have a s’more,” Thor spoke up, handing you a small disposable plate with a freshly assembled s’more. His way of trying to comfort you.

“ Thanks,” you shot Thor an appreciative smile, taking the sweet treat. Jane’s boyfriend had always been kind to you and you got along well. The mutual friendliness extended to all of his baseball friends.

Well, the friendliness extended to all his friends except for one.

“ He’s telling it wrong anyway, so don’t pay it any mind,” Jane says causing you to let out a small laugh. Leave it to Jane to alleviate your nerves by just being herself.

You try to drown out Sam’s true crime retelling and focus on the sugary gooeyness on your lap. Jane and Thor snuggle into each other beside you and a small smile appears on your face at the sight. You take a bite of the s’more, letting the flavors melt into your mouth.

“ The next morning the cops led a search party into these very woods. Everyone searched day and night for three days straight. Scouting every inch, no stone unturned, to find them. And then one day, one member of the search party found something. That member being my Titi—so listen close,” Sam sets up the big reveal.

“ Wanna know what they found?” A voice you know all too well whispers into your ear from behind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as his breath fans your ear.

“ I already know,” you grit out, turning your head to glare at him. Bucky can’t help the cocky grin that overcomes him when you look at him like that. He makes his way over the log and sits right next to you. You don’t hide the displeasure on your face.

“ Couldn’t find anyone else to annoy, James?”

“ None worth my time, sweetheart—and it's Bucky.”

You roll your eyes biting back a snarky comment. No matter the number of times he insists on you calling him by his nickname, you refuse to. Only his friends call him Bucky, and you're not friends—far from it. So to you, he’s James and nothing more.

“ We’re not friends, James. Friends don’t make you miss your biology final,” you remind him bitterly. He looks at you with slight disbelief,“ You’re still stuck on that? How is it my fault the party went until four in the morning?” You bristle at his defensiveness.

“ I don’t know. Maybe by not kicking everyone out of your apartment?” you retort, taking another bite of your s’more. Hoping to lose yourself in the sweetness of it before the distaste of his presence taints it.

“ At least the professor let you make it up…�� he mutters under his breath.

“ That’s not the point,” you snip, unable to let him have the last word. You pretend to focus on Sam’s story, but really your attention is on the flames in front of you. The way they dance and crackle as if telling their own story alongside Sam’s.

Bucky stares at you, his eyes scanning every detail of your face. His favorite pastime is finding all the ways to push your buttons. There’s something about your reactions that he can’t help but want to see more of. He openly enjoys being the only one who can elicit such responses from you. Hell, you could say he was proud of it.

“ Stop it.”

“ Stop what?”

“ The staring.”

“ Don't want to.”

You turn to give him a piece of your mind but abruptly stop when you see the way he’s looking at you—or more so the way he’s examining your lips. His eyes reflecting more than just the golden flames in the bonfire. There was something deeper and not entirely unfamiliar. He had looked at you this way before, and yet it was still unrecognizable to you. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, but that was heartstopping nonetheless.

His hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing away at something on the corner of your mouth. Your tongue instinctively darts out to lick your lips and remove whatever remnants of the s’more are left. Something unreadable flashes in his eyes. You wonder what he must be seeing in yours when his eyes drift from your lips to your gaze.

“ You had a little something there,” his voice has a deeper cadence to it, contrasting the cheeky grin plastered on his face. That damn grin. It’s all you need to snap out of whatever trance you were just in.

“ You’re insufferable,” you hiss out, getting up from your spot on the ground and stepping away from the bonfire. You hate how he does this—how easily he’s able to mess with you. It’s like it's his second nature to know exactly how to get a reaction from you. Almost as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

The vulnerability of it all is what ground your gears the most. Bucky was used to this. The flirting, the back and forth, the teasing, and having girls wrapped around his finger. The last time you were in a relationship was your freshman year of college—a few years ago. It had been too long of being touch-starved that the slightest of touches or gazes brought about a yearning deep within you. One that you swore Bucky could see right through and it made you detest the man more.

You hated feeling like you were being toyed with. But above all, you hated how much you actually didn’t hate the attention he gave you.

You make your way over to one of the many trashcans around the campsite and dump the last bits of your s’more in along with the disposable plate. Your appetite for the treat long gone after his little stunt.

You use your phone as a flashlight as you walk over to where all the tents are stationed. It’s not too far from the bonfire, but far enough that the voices of everyone drown out into a low hum. A few people are already in the tents enjoying the night without the warmth of the fire.

“ Y/n! Hold up!” Jane calls out to you from behind. You face her confused expression, “ Everything okay?” You nod, your hands hiding in the pockets of your grey sweatpants,“ Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna call it a night,” you say tiredly. You don’t want her to worry or keep her from enjoying her night.

“ Okay…Are you sure? Because you seemed off after Bucky—”

“ Please for the love of everything don’t mention him.”

Jane drops the subject entirely, “ Okay, okay. I won’t,” she assures you and pauses for a moment before she adds, “ By the way, I’ll be staying with Thor tonight, so you have our tent all to yourself.”

“ Oh? Oh…behave yourself, Foster,” you warn her playfully. She rolls her eyes waving off your tease,“ No promises.” You laugh together—the exchange alleviating the heaviness in your shoulders.

After a light farewell, your best friend retreats to the bonfire. You find your eyes drifting from her figure to the back of Bucky’s head. He’s still sitting in the same spot, right next to where you had sat. He was drinking away at a beer as Sam continues his story. You look away, ignoring the way your heart feels a small pang as it wonders if it would have been so bad if you had stayed.

Only Bucky had this way of infuriating you, but enticing you at the same time. A magnetic push and pull that tugs at you whenever you’re near him.

You crouch down and unzip your humble abode for the night. Gazing up at the sky before heading in. The moon is bright and full amongst the dark hazy clouds.

“ It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too?” you grumble before entering the tent. The knowledge of being in here alone all night sounds less appealing now. You wish Sam had told a different story to set the mood for tonight.

For the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in your sketchbook. Every corner of the tent became your makeshift desk as the soft scratches of graphite filled the air. A small LED lantern casting just enough glow to guide your intricate curves and shadows across the paper. At first, you were sketching a flower you had seen earlier in the day along a trail. You don’t recognize the species, but the cluster of pretty violet petals vividly lived in your head and you wanted it forever memorialized in your sketchbook.

At some point, however, the petals turn into doodles and then unrecognizable scribbles. The creative flow taking a life of its own. You soon find yourself drawing a pair of eyes on another page. Giving them a space of their own. These eyes you recognize deep down, but they still have the same unreadable expression from earlier. Almost as if you hoped to decipher it by putting it on paper.

Maybe then it would be easier to look at them without being affected—without feeling that pull.

There’s a loud thump that echoes close to your tent. You freeze at the sound. By this point, everyone had called it a night and retreated to their sleeping arrangements. It had been at least half an hour that you hadn’t heard a single sound except for the chirping of crickets amongst a chorus of other creepy crawlers.

When no sound followed the thump you decided to ignore it—acting like you hadn’t heard a thing. And yet, your fingers swiftly moved to turn off the lantern and close your sketchbook, neatly tucking it beneath your pillow.

Another noise rang out—the skidding of dirt. And this time it was closer to your tent. Not directly outside it, but almost. You don’t know why your heart dropped or why your fingertips went cold, but they did. You tell yourself it’s probably just someone going out to use the bathroom or some other related activity.

Your body betrayed your mind as it started to feel enclosed in the tent. Like a prey caught in a trap. Hopelessly awaiting the moment the predator decided to take them out.

You swallow the lump in your throat and with numb fingers, you grab your phone. The tent shrinking around you as your heart pounded in your chest. Going out to investigate the source of the noise wasn't the smartest idea. However, continuing to be a sitting duck in the tent was distressing you more—and that helpless feeling overpowered anything else.

You slowly unzip the tent, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. You slip on your moccasins, putting one foot in front of the other as you step out into the night. Your surroundings are cast in shadows as the moon seems to be hiding behind a gloomy cluster of clouds. You look around and notice no one else is awake. Only dormant tents with sleeping residents inside accompany you in the night.

You scan the area, training your ear to see if you can pick up any noise.

That’s when you hear it—a rustling in the bushes.

You peer into the woods, your eyes narrowing hoping to center on something, but you can’t see anything. There’s a slight fog that encases the lines of trees encircling the campsite obstructing your view.

You take a few steps forward, hugging your sweater closer to your body. The outside air catches you off guard with its falling degrees. The shadows at every corner of the woods become creatures of the night if you stare at them for too long.

Why were you doing this? Why had you decided this was a good idea?

You questioned yourself. An unpleasant shiver goes up your spine at the thought of you walking straight into a creature’s claws. Your footing stumbled, and yet you found yourself walking further in the direction of the sound, the faint glow of your phone illuminating your path. You decided against using the actual flashlight on your phone as it could easily alert whatever was hiding in the foliage of the woods.

You don’t go too far from the campsite. Your legs only take you a few feet away from the perimeter of it before tensing at the way the hoot of an owl cuts through the stillness of the night. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped your phone tighter. The edges of it digging into your skin.

“ What are we looking for?” A voice too close for comfort whispers behind you and it causes you to shriek, your phone tumbling to the ground as you jump away from the source. Your eyes zero in on the culprit—your blood boiling when your gaze meets his ceruleans.

James Buchanan fucking Barnes.

A deep chuckle erupts from Bucky at your reaction. Not only at the way you jumped, but also at the way you’re now seething. He stands there in a basic white tee and black joggers, his hair slightly unkempt from lying on it earlier in the night.

“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, bending down to pick up your phone from the ground. The anxiety from before dissipating into irritation.

“ Me? What’s up with you? Sneaking around in the woods at night. That’s kinda creepy, sweetheart,” he jabs with a smirk. You roll your eyes, exhaling to steady your breath,“ Stop calling me that. And I'm not sneaking around—I heard something.”

“ And you came to check it out?”

“ Yeah.”

“ You have no survival instincts, do you?”

“ And you do? You're out here too.”

Bucky crosses his arms, his eyes roaming over your figure. He’s thoroughly entertained by your attempt to catch whatever is out there in your cozy outfit. It’s not exactly monster-hunting material.

“ I let my buddy have the tent for the night. He’s got a girl in there. Thought I'd sleep under the stars like nature intended,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. A wry smile appears on your face,“ Aren’t you a great friend,” you reply sarcastically. He’s about to give you a snippy retort when a branch breaks ahead of you, causing you both to snap your attention to it.

You both go silent—wondering if you’ll hear anything more. Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand in front of you. Positioning himself between you and the unknown noise.

“ Is that what you heard earlier?” He asks, his voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes drift up his form and the way his arm is slightly outstretched in your direction in a protective stance. He’s looking in the direction of where the sound came from, but then his head turns back to look at you.

It takes you a second to gather your words,“ Sort of. At first there was like a loud thud by my tent and then some rustling—and now this,” you describe the unfolding events thus far.

He frowns,“ Is your tent the one by Wanda’s?”At his question you nod,“ Yeah…why?” He tilts his head slightly as he tries to recollect something.

“ The two-person one with the purple edges?”

“ Yeah…”

His features soften, dawning on a sheepish expression. His protective stance faltering as he scratches the back of his neck,“ The noise was me then—sorry. I tripped over something while looking for a place to piss.”

“ Oh…” Is all you manage to say. Feeling utterly foolish for getting so worked up over nothing. What you had thought was something going bump in the night ended up being Bucky stumbling to relieve himself.

Another branch cracks in the murky fog. Reminding you that although the noises you heard outside your tent were explained, the ones here, not too far from you and Bucky—weren’t.

“ I’m gonna go check it out,” he takes a step forward, but you stop him. Your hand shoots out to grip the hem of his shirt,“ Don’t! Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed or something!”

His eyebrows raise, not expecting you to have that reaction.“ Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” A smirk spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eye.“ As if—screw you,” you deny harsher than you intended, removing your hold from his shirt. This only provokes him more, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin,“ You wanna?”

“ You know what? I hope whatever is out there gets you.”

“ Oh, you’d miss me if it did. But don’t worry—if it gets me, I’ll make sure to let it know you’re the one worth chasing."

Bucky doesn’t give you a second to process what his words really mean. Instead, he takes out a small flashlight from the pocket of his joggers. He turns it on, shining the area ahead of him. A brazen expression is the last thing you see before he wanders into that direction of the woods as if there wasn’t potentially something dangerous up ahead.

You wanted to protest, but you didn’t. Rather, you end up standing there amongst the wilderness, watching as his form gets smaller and smaller until it disappears into the haze of the fog.

You feel uneasy as soon as you don’t see him. Your chest feels heavy with the unknown. You call out to him. Thinking maybe he’s doing this to prove something or to mess with you. When he doesn’t call back you find apprehension in the sinking pit of your stomach.

Behind you, the campsite is still in sight. The smart thing to do would be to go wake someone up—like Thor—to go after Bucky. However, your feet work faster than your mind does, pushing you to follow after him.

This time you use the flashlight on your phone to light your path. The luminescence cuts through the fog as you trudge through it. Leaves crunching beneath your feet, and hands outstretched lightly to use the passing trees as support to persist onward.

You walk for a good few minutes before you finally spot him. He’s standing by a tall pine tree, his right hand tracing over something etched into the bark.

“ James! Come back to the campsite!” You whisper yelled, approaching him. He hummed,“ So you are worried about me,” the smugness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When he turns to face you his eyes tell you he was expecting you. Like he knew in the end your stubbornness and pride wouldn’t matter because you’d end up following after him after all.

You are worried about him. He needs no further proof than your actions.

There was a prickling of annoyance building up in your system. More than anything, you wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible. The campsite feels like a haven awaiting your return.

“ Can you stop being so insufferably cocky for one second and just come back to the camp before I drag your ass back?” You say through gritted teeth. You wanted to have more bark to your bite, but the inkling dread of what could be out here stopped you from crossing that line.

He stepped closer to you, the glow of his flashlight reflecting in his eyes in tiny glimmers,“ Why? I thought you didn't care if ‘whatever is out there’ got me.”

“ I don’t—but I’d hate to be an accomplice to that thing.”

“ Admit it. You’re worried about me.”

By now Bucky was mere inches away from you. Having slowly sauntered right up to you. His eyes were daring you to speak the truth—his arrogant smile tempting you to do even more.

“ I came to get you back, but if you’re determined to stay here then stay,” you huff, spinning on your heels to storm off.

Bucky’s hand reaches out and encloses your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you from walking away. He sighs with defeated ire.

“ Sweetheart, why won't you admit—” he’s cut off by the swift movement of something dashing past the both of you. He immediately pulls you in closer, his arms encasing you protectively—his body a shield. One arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your head. Your own body leans into his as if bracing for impact.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the culprit of the racket. A deer dashing through the woods like it had somewhere to be. You held back a laugh at the revelation.

This is what had you so worried this whole time? A deer?

Even so, your heart races in your chest. And Bucky has you so tightly pressed into his that you can feel the way his own heart is thrumming rapidly. Both of your breaths work to steady from their instability as you realize there is nothing truly to be worried about.

You stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Finding comfort in each other’s arms. The fog dances around your figures as if pushing you closer. The tips of your fingers tingle from where they’re pressed at his chest.

When you finally register whose touch it is, you pull away. Bucky reluctantly lets you go. His arms awkwardly falling to his sides. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start.

Why was his instinct to protect you? To keep you from harm’s way?

And why had you felt the safest all night in his arms?

You swallow the questions that desire to escape. There’s a part of you that feels like you should thank him, but then the other part feels stupid for wanting to do so. Knowing how much it would feed his ego to vindicate him as a hero.

“ Guess it was just a deer, huh?” Bucky tries to cut through whatever tension is starting to build.

“ Yeah…silly us…” you reply, half-heartedly. Your mind still reeling from his touch.

You both go quiet again. The silence welcomes you where words fail to.

Out of nowhere, you feel a tiny bead land on your head. Followed by one on your hand and then your cheek. It's beginning to drizzle. The rain cutting through the trees and promising to kiss every inch of your skin.

“ We should get going,” Bucky says, his palm cupped to catch a few droplets.

“ Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree, clearing your throat. In other circumstances, Bucky would rejoice and point out how, for once, you aren’t arguing with him. But not right now—not at this moment. Not when the memory of holding each other stirred something within you both.

No, now instead you walk back to the campsite in silence. You’re a few steps ahead as Bucky decides to tow along at a slower pace. Seemingly lost in thought.

When you’re back at the campsite your eyes dart to your tent. It’s within reach. A safety you can hideout in until the emotions Bucky arose in you fade away.

“ Can I chill in your tent for a while? Just until the rain stops,” Bucky surprises you with his request. Until you remember he gave up his tent to his friend for the night.

“ What? No,” your response is immediate. The thought of you and Bucky alone in your tent causes many scenarios to run through your head. You didn’t think you’d make it through the night with him in it. You were barely hanging on as it is.

“ I just saved your life.”

“ You did not.”

“ Did too.”

“ James, you absolutely did not–”

“ Please,” his soft plea tugs at the very part of you that wants to say yes. He’s not the kind of guy to beg, but he’ll do anything to not stand out in the cold rain. You being in an enclosed space with him was just a bonus.

An extremely tantalizing bonus.

“ Fine…but only until the rain stops,” you concede. You weren’t heartless enough to leave him out in the rain.

You zip open the tent and climb inside. You remove your moccasins and leave them by the entrance. The inside is spacious enough for the two of you, but you still find yourself going into the furthest right corner of it. You sit crossed-legged as you turn on the small LED lantern to illuminate the tent with its muted glow. He makes his way inside, his hair glistening from the rain. He leaves his muddied slides by your moccasins.

“ This tent is way nicer than the one Sam and I got,” he comments, running a hand through his hair to dispel the droplets. He’s trying to make light conversation, keeping his distance as he sits in the corner by the entrance diagonally from you.

“ Jane’s family is really into camping so she had this one laying around…” you mention. The oddity of small talk between you fills the space with a foreign dynamic. The rain goes from a sprinkle to a pour. Hitting the top of the fabric cacoon in harsh strokes.

He chooses to pivot the conversation.“ Do you have everything ready for fall semester?” He asks you, maneuvering to sit with his knees bent, his shirt hiking up the smallest bit to expose the skin at his hips. You avert your gaze when your heart does a little flip.

“ Almost. I still have one or two textbooks to get,” you reply, playing with a few loose threads of the blanket beneath you. Anything to not have your eyes wander back to him.

He scoffs lightly,“ You already got your textbooks? There’s no way. I always get ‘em after the first week.” Unlike you, he can’t seem to keep his pretty blues away from you. Your features heightened in the gentle sheen of the lantern. Intricate shadows scattered across your figure that made you look ethereal. The way his heart hammered in his chest romanticizing the sight of you.

“ That's because I’m responsible and you’re not.”

“ I am responsible. As captain of the baseball team—”

“ Spare me the team leader speech, please,” you groan, stopping him from continuing. There’s only so much you can take for one night. And hearing Bucky light up as he talks about the one thing he’s passionate about—the one thing that humanizes him to you beyond his usual cheeky self. It would do more to you than just make your heart do a little flip.

You’d end up saying or doing something you wouldn’t be able to take back.

“ Look, Y/n, I’m just trying to make conversation here. You don’t have to be so difficult all the time. Just talk to me,” Bucky brings you out of your thoughts not only by his exasperated tone, but by the way your name rolls off his tongue. He so rarely calls you by it. He’s called you sweetheart endlessly—and he’s even slipped a few sunshines in the mix—but your name was foreign to his vocabulary.

Bucky is usually good at dealing with your constant back and forth. Some days it's the only thing he looks forward to. However, right now it was irritating him how much you pushed back. He wanted you to give in. To what, he wasn’t sure. But he wondered what normalcy felt like with you—what just a damn friendly conversation felt like.

You sigh, meeting his eyes.“ I don’t want to talk. Sorry, I think I’m just tired. Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, hoping that if he says yes you can sleep away the bubbling of emotions in your chest.

You can see the way he contemplates something, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Now he’s the one holding back. A beat passes and you nervously wonder if he’ll turn down your suggestion.

“ Fine—it's late anyway. But only if I get to sleep next to you. I promise I’ll keep my distance. It’s just there’s water leaking through the zipper at the entrance,” he mentions, his hand motioning to the entry. Your eyes dart to where he’s pointing and sure enough there’s a small puddle of water pooling by it. Not knowing how long the rain would continue, you knew you had to deal with the issue.

You grab Jane’s camping gear that holds numerous amount of supplies in all of its various pockets. She always came extra prepared no matter the occasion. You take out a washcloth, scooting over to the entrance to soak up the forming puddle. You decide to leave it there neatly tucked underneath where the water was finding its way in.

“ Alright, but if you snore I'm kicking you out,” you warn, but it’s more playful than serious. Something to lighten the mood before you go to bed. A way to dissipate whatever tension’s built up so you'd be able to fall asleep.

It’s hard to cut through the tension and alleviate its symptoms when your shelter from the storm seems to shrink the more you chat with Bucky. And now sitting right next to him—shoulder to shoulder—it seems like a damn near impossible task.

" I’ll take my chances. But just so you know, I don’t go down without a fight,” he winks at you, your shoulders brushing. Your heart rate picks up and it takes everything within you to stare into his eyes and not focus on the way that simple contact sent a shiver down your spine.

His eyes drift to your lips causing your breath to hitch. The implications of where this could go are enough to pull you away from his spell.

“ Goodnight,” you choke out. Subtly rushing over to your sleeping bag and settling into it. You don’t see when he shakes his head, but you do hear how he chuckles lowly. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t pick it up.

He makes his way over to Jane’s sleeping bag, but lays on top of it instead of nestling into it. Choosing to cover himself only in the maroon fleece blanket that was draped over your body too.

“ Goodnight,” he finally says, his body turning to face away from you. You respond by turning off the lantern. The space is now engulfed by darkness. Only the faintest of light shines in from the outside, letting your eyes trace the outlines of objects.

You turn to your side. Your back facing his. You take a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the rain to hopefully lull you into a slumber. But the air felt too thick and your body was burning up from the heat radiating under the blanket. There was a good foot or so separating your body and Bucky’s. And yet, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he was pressed up right against you.

It was too much. You swore you started sweating, so you shuffled under the covers and out of the sleeping bag. Every movement slow and deliberate as if to not snap the rope keeping the palpable tension in place.

When only the plush fleece covered your body, the heat radiated less. But the fluttering of the blanket caused Bucky’s cologne to waft your way. A pleasant scent of musky woodiness with a hint of something that was entirely him. You gripped the cover tightly and counted to ten in your head. You were going mad.

“ Would you stop hogging the blanket? ” Bucky muttered from beside you. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell you to stop doing. Because you and your constant fidgeting were driving him crazy. Every fiber of his being holding back from doing something to snap that rope.

You didn’t realize you had been pulling it your way until he mentioned it. Your grip on it loosened,“ Sorry. I wasn’t hogging it though,” you argued for no reason other than to fill the silence.

“ Yes, you were.”

“ No, I wasn’t.”

There was something about the proximity of your bodies that made the blanket seem smaller. Like there was no possible way it could equally cover both of your sleeping forms. Maybe this is what caused you to then tug at it, however, he holds it firmly to himself too.

Persistently you pull at the blanket again. He pulls back—a tug of war ensues between you. You can hear him huff in the darkness, but you're not letting up. Bucky couldn't care less about the blanket. He only cared about not letting you get the upper hand. His competitive streak showing.

While you solely really didn’t want to let him win.

You wrap the end of the blanket around yourself—almost like a cacoon. The delicate fleece encases you. Leaving the bare minimum amount for Bucky to cover himself with.

“ You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my goddamn life,” he practically growls as he yanks forcefully on the blanket. A tiny yelp escapes you as you get pulled along with it.

You underestimated the strength of the star pitcher.

You end up on top of him. The blanket now an extra cushy barrier between your bodies. In the dim light, your eyes lock, and you can faintly see the outline of a boyish grin on his face. You don’t move away. There’s like an invisible force that keeps you there. Your body pressed against his feeling his warmth tenfold. You can’t tell if either of you are breathing because all you're aware of now is how his heart beats in time with yours.

“ You’re insufferable you know that?” you swallow hard, your voice lacking its usual bite.

“ You sure about that, sweetheart?” he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips brushing against yours with feather-light contact.

When had your lips gotten so close?

You don’t know who leans in first. The one who finally breaks the standoff because your lips seem to meet at the same time. The kiss is sweet, but with a slight hesitance to it. As if neither of you are completely sure the other wants this. Or more like neither of you believes this is happening. However, when his hands grip the back of your thighs, sliding your legs from on top of him to his sides so you straddle him—you believe it. And when your hands find themselves threading in his hair—he believes it.

One kiss that tests the waters turns into one that slowly sinks into the feeling. Until the two of you fully submerge into the depths of whatever has been simmering between you for what seems like too long. Delicate kisses that get more heated—more intense as your lips continue to meet. Bucky beams at the fact that you’re no longer pushing, but pulling into him. His craving for you only increasing now that he’s had a taste.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, slow and gentle. Asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Bucky Barnes isn’t the type to be slow and gentle—but when it comes to you he finds himself wanting to relish every second he gets. Not knowing when he’ll get another moment like this with you again.

Your lips part enough for him to slip his tongue in to truly kiss you like he wanted to. As soon as you grant access he takes full opportunity to explore every corner of your mouth. His tongue molding with yours in fervor. Your fingers lightly tug at his hair while his hands roam your body memorizing every curve and dip. Wherever he gripped and caressed, his touch left heat in its wake.

A heat you had to contain before it consumed you both.

“ If you think you’re getting lucky tonight—think again. This is the most you’ll get,” You say breathlessly, pulling away to help your lungs remember what oxygen is.

He groans, breath panting, the outline of his pout evident in the dim light,“ Don’t do this to me, sweetheart. Can’t leave me like this.” His voice a desperate whine that allured you to keep going.

“ Too bad. You're dreaming if you think this is going any further.”

“ God, you don’t wanna know what I've dreamed about.”

“ Shut up,” you cut off his groan with another kiss. Fierce enough to silence him immediately. He hopes you shut him up like this more often.

Your lips meet again in a hasty lock. No hesitation now as your tongues meet quicker. You seem to be obsessed with his hair as you run your fingers through it again. He shivers at the touch. His hands slide under your sweater to trail along your soft skin. Keeping his hands along your back and waist. Teetering around the boundary you drew, so he didn’t get carried away. But it was hard when kissing you felt as good as throwing the perfect game—maybe even better.

He realizes the emotions you bring out of him are worth a lifetime waiting for.

He pulls away this time to catch his breath, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face,“ I’m in no rush, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to take it all the way—make you fall for me.”

You hum, leaning into his touch,“ You seem sure of yourself. ”

His voice is rough yet affectionate when he speaks,“ I’m sure of you, sweetheart. You’re worth every second, and I’m not stopping until you see it too.”

He gives you one final tender kiss. One that's full of promise for the future. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the meaning in the kiss that stole your breath away.

After a few seconds, you both pull away. Separating your bodies from each other to provide that much-needed space before lines were crossed.

“ Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you would keep your hands and lips to yourself come tomorrow. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you called him by his nickname. Bringing a genuine smile to his face, loving the way it sounded coming from you.

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

Even after saying goodnight, the two of you can’t fall asleep immediately. You try to, but there are small moments in the night where you drift back to each other. Where in the darkness your lips meet again and again—satiating the tension in parts. Where your hands find themselves under the covers and layers of clothing. Flaming the fans of desire just enough so it doesn’t completely burn out, but smoldering to be reignited at any moment’s chance.

You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Your eyelids growing heavy at some point tangled up in his body under the covers. Your face in the crook of his neck. His head resting on top of yours. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces like they were meant to be connected in every way.

It’s not until that morning when you wake up and find yourself in his arms, snuggled into his side, that the events of last night sink in. You pull away the tiniest bit. Merely enough to be able to get a look at him. The brown strands of his hair tousled and clinging to his forehead. The slope of his nose, his dark lashes fanned delicately against his skin, and the tiniest parting of his lips. He looks peaceful—almost angelic as he slumbers.

You’re itching to sketch the image in front of you.

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch the strands at his forehead. It’s enough to have his eyes flutter open, their color brighter in the daylight. He gives you a lazy smile the instant he realizes last night wasn’t a dream and you really were here, nestled in his arms.

No words were exchanged, but both of you were conscious of the line you had drawn last night. And yet, you both also knew that in time, that line would be crossed again and again. Until the line blurred into oblivion.

#slashersummerwc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #college bucky barnes #bucky college au

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controld3vil · 4 months ago

Text

i'll hex you, i'll possess you

pairing(s): aegon ii targaryen x wife!reader, aemond "one eye" targaryen x reader (unrequited/one sided)

synopsis: Your husband is gone. He perished in whatever was left of the battle, seared flesh, and dragon’s tar. As unbearable as it was, you fight for his throne against his brother. Believing it is for his for the taking.

notes: mentions of s02ep05, i fr feel so bad for aegon :( also cw: hints of obsessed!aemond (bc he's insane :D)

In quite a haste, you sped past all the onlookers like flies. They were nonexistent in your peripherals, your attention was entirely up ahead to the King’s chambers, the Kingsguards who stood by. Your Grace, they would say before allowing you passage past their protection. You took a glimpse, here in the dressing room for the King. Your King.

“Your Grace!” The seamstress chirped, turning to greet your lovely smile. And your righteous presence everywhere you went. It affected all now that you were the face of King’s Landing. It’s a hefty duty, yes, however, it seemed many subjects were willing, if not encouraged, of your subsequent role as the consoling figure for the realm to look to.

In front of a tall mirror was Aegon, in full Valyrian armor. You’d guessed the armor was passed down through his ancestral line, ancient, and beautiful it was kept. All the plates fit him perfectly with little alterations to adjust. Yet absent of the signature helmet paired with it, his blonde hair lay just above his shoulders, gently.

Ever so kind were your visage toward the King. You could feel the corners of your lips curve warmly at the sight of him. He was handsome and eager to appease the people of his kingdom. Though he may not be the first choice for Throne, you knew he was trying his best to uphold the responsibilities and burden those must bear. You would have to bear it as well if you were Queen.

“Good morrow,” You breathed, flattening the wrinkles of your dress as an excuse to eye at Aegon, openly. There was nothing to hide, simply it was different from his normal attire. In armor, in all of your lifetime, you never had to experience warfare, for better or worse.

“Ah, my lovely wife!” In exclamation, your husband turns to compliment your captivating smile as he gleams contentedly. He takes a few steps down from the small stairway from the miniature podium, while some of his personal Kingsguard can be heard snickering. Which you wholeheartedly ignored as your attention laid straight to your King’s beaming face. “Just who I wanted to see!”

“I must speak with you,” Through your expressed delightfulness, the tone of your voice is quickly replaced with a sour one. And it seemed to have caught the attention of the seamstress and others in the room as they all paused at your subtle notion of privacy. “Alone.” Only when you mention it, it’s as though they were a flock of birds, all fleeing from the chambers at once. A few clatters and suddenly the doors were quietly slammed shut with a whisper of a demand.

However, your husband did not seem fazed at all. He merely shrugged, casually walking to fill a cup or two with wine. Yet a visible glower can be caught right after he steps off the podium and to the table of beverages. Sometimes his reaction to your urgency was comedic. The King was never one to take duties earnestly. It’s one of his eminent flaws that all of the townsfolk and servants knew of. His days by the Silk Roads were but a regular story. But now, he is a changed man, Aegon thinks. They’ve witnessed all of his mistakes and tourneys. He’s young and has never been as interested in duty as his siblings. And now suddenly, he was pulled onto the seat as King. And you would have to sit beside him and watch. As a graceful symbol yet mute on what to say on any matter.

How horrendous was that?

“What troubles you, my sweet?” The sound of liquid plops as all of the noise from the outside world becomes muffled. For the past few days, it has been the most chaotic and tragic period of your life. Not just for you and Aegon, but everyone in King’s Landing. Your son, Jaehaerys, was left for dead at the hands of a murderer and false ruler. Panic was running through the streets of Flea Bottom. People questioned the King’s cruel punishment of the rat catchers though Aegon did not care for their grief.

To you, it was more than sadness. But anger and confusion, all of your pent-up emotions ever since living in King’s Landing have made you become this way. The Capital has changed you. To who you were as a person and figure of nobility. Now you were suddenly the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, yet only moments ago, you were the princess of the firstborn son of the King. You should have expected war to come between siblings over the throne, yet your father persisted that the marriage would’ve led to success. Having lost your child, your son, made the promise to communicate more to Aegon. To somehow seek solace in the empty void of your heart in whatever left the world had.

“You named Ser Criston Cole your Hand…” You mumbled slowly, the last words faded out into thin air. Was he wrong to do so? You did not want to say. For the little you knew about the battle being played at hand, you knew Aegon’s impulsiveness would come to the cost of many. Especially of the Council when they have refused relentlessly his thoughts and suggestions. So perhaps this decision would cause more upbringing for the noblemen to bleat about. “Why?”

A muffled sound and then a snort comes out of his mouth as Aegon proceeds to sip his wine. As if not a care of the world or your concern over the matter. “And why does this concern you?”

He does the courtesy to hand you your cup, as you clasped it eagerly to swallow whatever worry your heart must feel. The Queen Regent, Aegon’s brother, Aemond, and even Criston Cole, all look for you in the guidance you have over their King. You’ve yet to make it clear that you don’t control him like many others would consider to do. You’d think it's heartless to manipulate a man of his feelings, especially your husband.

Eventually, you lay the cup down, trailing your finger around the outer details of the golden goblet. It’s glimmering through the sun, carefully designed with outlines of a dragon and flames that surround the jugular of the base of the cup. It curves and twists under your palm as you proceed to swirl the liquid inside and watch as a mini typhoon is formed.

“Do you believe your decision on making him Hand was just?” You lift your gaze to be met with his bright purple eyes. It always seemed intense and vivid in color whenever his attention was on you. As if you were the only person that mattered in the room. And if not at this moment.

You looked ravishing, decorated in his house colors with pops of gold from the jewelry and headwear. You had no shame in exemplifying wealth because he would give you everything willingly. No matter the cost or debt, every piece of gold, and diamond was meant to be yours. He watches as your golden droplet earrings jingle when you shake your head, contemplating your next words. “Because I do not think that was the wisest decision to be made, husband.”

“And, care to explain why?” Like every little piece of his childhood, Aegon looks at every objective like a game. Though he looked like he was trying to resist your hesitancy for his new Hand, he was staring into space at the glorious jewels that make your figure and face pop out more.

You urged, before meeting the King by the tableside where the pitcher lay. “He is a warrior, not a politician,” You set your goblet aside, to look your husband in the eye more closely. “He does not know the ways of the people, especially those who he surrounds himself with. He was born lowborn, making him more naive than aware of tellings.”

Yes, you make great points, he would say if you did not have that adorable scowl on your face. Aegon would admit, he was getting drunk by the minute. And your presence did not help in his regard to be sober. Regardless, he does take account of your calls, more than most that surround himself with. Everyone at the Council is eager to spout their plans and news, it makes him deaf to the ear when they have nothing to contribute when he suggests something. Nevertheless, you at least are supportive of his thoughts. Despite your constructive nature, he appreciates and craves your attention.

Your King hums, drowsily and that was when you knew his mind was somewhere else. You would admit, you too were becoming tipsy with alcohol. After the morning Council meeting, you rather have your head hung outside with ratcatchers at the mess of the Council. You glance at his attire once more and this time, he catches you. He sees you, the way your doe eyes wander up and down his figure. He rarely has a chance to wear dragon armor like this.

“Distracted, are we?” His breath immediately inches away from yours. And the scent of strong alcohol stings. You’re so accustomed to it, that you’re surprised you would still rebuke the scent of it. Apart from that, the look Aegon gives you makes your heart weak. His smile is sluggish but pulls you in like a serpent in water. It’s alluring and hypnotizing, the way his focus wanders in all of you, and the same for him. You can’t help but wonder if the work of the armor was tricked. And you let your desires plunder when you trace his breastplate armor. Of the harsh outlines it’s supposed to represent dragon scales. It’s majestic and divine, fit for a king.

Almost timidly, your husband giggles at your touch. He separates a stray hair from your cheek, allowing leeway more into your personal space. You can’t feel automatically embarrassed if someone were to barge in. Because anyone could, the seamstress, Kingsguard, or worse, his mother.

“Wear that armor more often and perhaps you’ll receive more than indecent staring,” A mischievous grin forms as again another jingle of your golden jewelry. Gods, you’re enticing and coy. Had he mentioned that? More than once.

The first time you were at Court, it was a spur of surprise. Not only had you arrived with Prince Aemond unannounced, but Aegon encouraged it. You would suspect the disapproving faces of the men, especially coming from the King’s Hand and grandsire. How he ploys and plots with every citizen of King’s Landing to do his bidding. To save the Realm, of course, more to have the most influence in the city. You were aware of what he thinks of you. An obedient and dainty princess. The Queen and wife to the King should have no right to speak of politics.

And yet here you were.

“You do not have a seat in this Council,” Queen Regent, Alicent urges, gazing at her second son with slight apprehension. In doubt, she feels a quick quiver of fear the moment Aemond strides past the Council table. When it came to you, Alicent could only muster a poor glance. The one-eyed prince proceeds towards the map of Westeros that stands beside the King. He strides in confidence, abruptly ignoring every piercing stare bestowed on him. Other than him, you reached towards the seat at the opposing side of your King, hand delicately trailing down the handles of the chair.

“Aemond is my closest blood and our strongest sword. I welcome him,” Aegon lay unfazed at the subtle shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. “As for my wife, I think it should be customary for her to be by my side even in Council. As my father has allowed you to do for him, remember mother?” A playful grin, all-knowing of his lightheartedness, and carelessness of what others thought of his decisions. Surely his mother would be the most understanding, bestowing the same position many years ago when King Viserys was dealt ill and immobile. Shouldn’t the Queen beside her King as should they in every instance?

Alicent is silent in her displeasure. There was no reason to refute the King’s wishes and sometimes made you appreciative of Aegon’s power and status. Being King was a risky position however it offered you more freedom and the ability to speak your mind more often than not. Your husband was the cause of this leverage for the most part. You expected the Queen Dowager to give you any kind of sign of comfort except there was none. Only but a forgotten thought and you were dismissed.

It fills you with dismay, a small black hole for where her approval was meant to be. For the last few days, you’d only wished for Alicent’s consoling eyes.

“We should send troops marching to Harrehal, the Riverlands have the largest force.” Aemond waves his hand over where the location of Riverrun is plastered on the wall. It’s curved in cursive lettering, surrounding soft green fields, most notably of their Southern lands, which was an inhabited place of divided houses and discourse. The largest force, it had many issues of compromises and its lordship. “With them, Rhaenyra’s forces would be left vulnerable on land.”

The accordance of hums coaxed the second son with assurance. A sense of pride if you will, knowing how much more skilled and knowable he was than his brother. But the Hand was quick to question his methods.

“And what of the small Houses of Riverrun? The Brackens and Blackwoods have been fighting each other for centuries. They would never work together as one,” Otto points out and it brings more skepticism and worry to the other Councilmen. Alliances with the Southerners were awkward. They do not know when or where to stop the fight. And it has become extremely bothersome at the time of war. The Bracken and Blackwoods were examples of that. They proceeded with the war more for themselves and would kill hundreds of their men if it meant to end their rivalry before the war even began.

“We should negotiate with smaller Houses beyond the River lands then,” Your lips shudder slightly when the immediate eyes turn to you. Even your husband stares at you in astonishment and curiosity the same. Alicent looks at you warily. And Aemond, all too mysterious, holds a neutral look. “Would it not help Ser Criston Cole secure more of the surrounding Houses towards their larger forces? Gaining allies along the way to Riverrun would only add more to our numbers,”

“And in truth, give us a better advantage to overruling Riverrun altogether?” A devilish grin was on Aegon’s face at your suggestion. Your advice seemed promising and seemed risky but it was the most practical. King’s Landing had more advantage on land than the sea or sky, therefore it was evident in their leverage over the smaller Houses close to Riverrun.

You tilt your head in amusement, all while lowering yourself to sit down. Yes, even though you had no experience in politics or war, you listened. You had ears whenever you managed to walk past one of their meetings. It should be frowned upon but you did not care. You wanted to have more say in protecting your family and House. Most things had been provided for you at an early age. You were a princess with a wealthy father, negotiations were your family’s specialty. You learned early on how to enunciate and please people with the way of your words. And here, you simply voiced what you believed was the safest way to Riverrun. Despite all the demeanors, none of the other Councilmen had anything else to say or disprove of your plans.

“Good! Then it’s settled then,” The king rises, as well as everyone else who feels startled at his shifted demeanor. “Then Ser Criston Cole should prepare some men for the long journey ahead of us by dawn!” It was then you felt some sort of pride that would solidify your position at the Council. As long as you hold a strong mind, should your advice become helpful towards the men, you’d hoped they would see your presence as a blessing.

In some midst of it all or perhaps the end, Aemond is quiet. He’s curious and admires you for everything you strive for. Many people would assume he despises you for taking the initiative to aid his king. But he does not believe in that no, you’re a delicate thing and would never be selfish on greed. Merely he can appreciate your ambitious strides from afar. The way you act around the people, the Council, and his mother makes him believe you were born into the role of Queen. You care for your subjects and think of what’s best for them. You do your best to stay by your king’s side even though he lacks the mind for it.

Perhaps maybe, in some cases, he should’ve had you.

The words struck right out of his head just when everyone was dismissed. While the nobleman rushes out of the council room, he delays his leave momentarily to catch a glimpse of you. You define the example of his House’s wealth, always proud to dress in colors of black and crimson red as if it was your second skin. However you do not forget about your own House colors, you embrace it all together with his own and it makes him wonder what kind of beauty like yourself can be persuaded by the likes of his brother. You were quick-witted, amusing, and altogether undeserving of Aegon’s love.

You do not immediately flee the room as his mother or Ser Criston Cole had done. Instead, you slowly rise from your seat and make your way to your husband, eagerly. Aegon sits comfortably in his golden chair, smug with loving eyes at your figure. He could not help but eye at you openly even with his Kingsguard standing beside him.

“Aemond, may we have the room?” He hears his older brother say. It does not take a blind man to know the following events as the one-eyed prince simply tilts his head in your direction. Before storming out of the room and the slam of the doors. His footsteps clank against the cold cobblestone pavement as he makes his way to his room. But all he could think about was your lively laughter as he disappeared from the scene.

The day after Cole’s troops arrived back at King’s Landing, you felt a string of worry crawling down your spine. As you pace across your bedroom, you fiddle with the ends of your loose hair to solace the anxiety you feel in your stomach. The pit was too unbearable as more men would be escorted out towards Rook’s Rest. After Aegon removed Otto Hightower as Hand, Criston Cole became the primary candidate for the position. You voiced your concerns before but Aegon had yet to change his decisions on your advice.

Now rumors have spread that by the time Cole invades Rook’s Rest, Aemond would be by his side to counter whatever attack Rhaenyra plans to defend her councilman. It would risk losing one dragon, the biggest and largest female beast you’d seen. Doubt fills your mind when you try to shake your worries away. You shook your hands feverishly and swatted away the sweat building up against your palms. You must speak to Aemond. You should warn him of the consequences of this act.

You found the prince outside of the castle. Vhagar resides in a shallow space close to the gateways to the city and is attentively monitored for her whereabouts. Very few dragon keepers watch over the powerful beast for her dangerous nature and size. As a cart, full of sheep was being carried by horses, you looked in awe at the amount of necessity the castle must provide for their dragons now. Surely it would impact the people’s living and cost. It worries you how chaotic and unlawful the palace seemed to behave in times of war. Even though you find yourself wanting to question Aemond’s intentions of helping Cole this way.

Your words settle like a soothing wave in his ears. “Prince Aemond,” And when the one-eyed prince spots you, holding the reins of your horse with a steady hand, he’s not afraid to show his approval of your presence. The colors you wear today are regarded as wealth and beauty. The golden linen stretches along the cloth of obsidian, representative of his House, your House. The gown expands upon your collarbone, allowing the silver necklace you have on to become the ire of his attention. It entices him, brings him into your line of view. Clear cut diamonds you had on your earlobes, they jingle at the slightest movement you make, as you make your way towards him with ease.

“Your Grace,” He prompts, politely. He is a plain canvas for you to paint over, to inspect over. You should not be afraid of his presence because he behaves well under yours. The prince regent eyes you down carefully and you’re vaguely reminded of the day before, the two of you entered the Council room.

“How was your ride with Vhagar?” You tenderly incite, head tilting towards his beast. Vhagar sits lazily with her entire body blended into the environment. Her muddy green scales combine with the grassy interior. The dragon pits were deemed too small for her size. And more so claustrophobic for a creature of her caliber, as a champion of many wars and destruction, Vhagar is rather docile for being the largest dragon.

He hums before easily answering. “The morrow dew is not something to be missed during this time. Vhagar could sense it, and the warm breeze is sure to come sooner for summer,” He crossed his arms behind his back as if analyzing your every breath as you walked in irregular patterns, trailing along where his dragon resides. Your attention was not fully on him. No, not that he wouldn’t mind. But it was ignorant on your part to ignore him so easily. “Now save the rest of this nonsense for supper or shall I ask what were your real intentions for coming here? Though I welcome it,”

You catch onto his coarse tone. Aemond dislikes those who do not take him seriously, like his brother. And you are aware of his estranged heart. You give him a look of consideration. It was the look of someone who had the upper hand. You knew he was becoming impatient with your meddling.

“What are your plans with Criston Cole going to Rook’s Rest?” Your figure fully faces him now as you cup your hands together modestly. Surely the prince of the realm should respect the Queen’s uncertainties when he meets with the King’s Hand behind his back. A sliver of dread falls on the blonde prince as you take a step closer. “Consoling with the Hand without the King’s presence is extremely demeaning, my prince. Surely you have a right reason to go behind his back,”

He takes a step forward, as Aemond’s eye moves back and forth from you. “We have a plan,” He is recursive in his thoughts and manners. Yet under your eyes, he feels utterly weak and broken, as if you have put a spell on him. “It is best if the King does not intervene.”

Shaking your head disapprovingly, you fake disappointment. “Then what do you plan to do?” The longer it went on, the more you could feel his blood rising at the way you glanced and teased at his exploits. “As I, the Queen should know.”

“You need not,” The second son grunts, moving away to leave whatever conversation you were trying to muster with him. You intended to snuff out his plans with Criston Cole and expose them to your King's husband. Your King husband. What would he know of battles and formation? He knew better strategy than him yet you still side with Aegon with his pathetic whims on the townsfolk.

Unsatisfied, you shot a disapproving grin. “I know you intend on attacking Rook’s Rest as a surprise, why else would you go with Cole?” You heard his mudded footsteps stop momentarily as you continued. “My question to it is, what are you trying to prove out of this act of disloyalty?” It flicks a trigger in him. A quick flash of anger, jealousy, and disgust, all coiled into one hole that explodes.

“I intend to prove I am the better fit as heir,” His tone is sharp and alert as he stomps back to you with a violent gaze. His one good remaining eye, unharmed and uncut, shoots daggers at your stern face. A small part of you thinks he is handsome. The way you can rile him within seconds gives you a sense of joy and satisfaction that quenches whatever annoyance you had of him before.

“There is no denying that,” Your lips agape still at how much you were able to pry out of Aemond. However, there was one detail you needed to remind him of. “But you fail to recognize that Aegon still has an heir, Maegor.” With that, you close your mouth to form a thin line as you stand more confidently against the prince’s deadly stare. “And as Queen, I hope you do not try to cross your King’s benevolent trust with your anger.”

It was his turn to remain there motionless. The one-eyed prince repeats your words over and over again. He contemplates them long and hard, glaring at the ground, at where you stood, close to his breath and space. But all of his emotional desires could be examples of an ill temper. You twist and turn his head like a puppeteer to a helpless marionette. And his strings had long sprung and trapped him in an immobile place.

He leaves without a word.

The battle was over. But the war continued. You became increasingly paranoid as no word from Cole’s army of Aegon’s wellbeing. You heard unreliable news. This and that but you wanted the real thing. The truth from a real member who had witnessed the battle at Rook’s Rest. As you twist the ring on your finger, you glance towards the rising crowd in the city. There were so many citizens. They succeeded and followed like colonies of ants.

Your anguish was reassured when the sight of the King’s army appeared. Shouts and screams returned you from your thoughts as hundreds of men walked and rode on horseback. Your lively expression did not last long, only to falter when meant with their solemn faces. What a grim battle it must’ve been.

“All hail King Aegon! Who went against and slain the traitor, Rhaenys, and her dragon, Meleys!” Cole exclaims in a harsh and undeserving undertone. From where you stood, on the high mounts of the castle, you saw the horrors of what they’ve done to the traitors. A severed head of the Red Queen, without her rider. Her flesh was torn and burnt. Charred from the attacks of another dragon, you did not believe Aegon had done so. You had doubts and Criston’s indifferent frown proved your intuition.

Alicent was by the patio where you spied on the citizens of King’s Landing. She observes and feels a familiar dread from the aftermath she has yet to witness for herself. You have taken the position of Queen and in turn, must understand the order of things. Simply because she had a feeling that things did not seem as they were predicted by the townsfolk.

When the wooden carriage of your husband is delivered to your bed chambers, everyone storms aside for the guards to set it on the floor. You arrived shortly after, nails and teeth clenched in fear as your mother-in-law appeared beside you with the same fixation. And somewhere else, your brother-in-law, Aemond carefully watches your scared position. The lid lifts and the soldiers hold onto the emergency bed that protects their King. In a swift motion, they lift and allow the body to hover over your shared bed.

In patience and precision, Maester Orywle walks into the chambers with several other maesters under his wing to begin a procedure and analysis of his injured body. The room is quickly transformed into a medical room, with various tools and gadgets displayed for the maesters disposal. You had little clue what they were doing, worried about your husband’s awakened state.

“How is he?” You stumbled by the foot of the bed, where the other maesters scurry to give off Maester Orwyle a scalpel. Gods, the wounds he had mustered. You felt terrified and rightfully so. This could be the last time you see your husband, alive and breathing. “Is he awake?”

“I’m not sure, Your Grace,” Maester Orwlye replies with adequate patience. Knowing the panic and hysteria you must feel for your king, your husband, he pities in your state. You should not deserve such sorrow. “But I must be given time to work on his fatal wounds. Whether he lives or not will be confirmed afterward.” His unflinching face softens when glances at one of Aegon’s personal Kingsguard to escort you outside. The knight nods and walks forward to excuse himself before coming forward.

“My apologies, Your Grace,”

Yet you did not want to leave. Your palms felt hot and guilt-ridden with the idea of leaving Aegon alone to suffer. You urge, taking a step forward for only Maester Orwyle to hear. “How long can you be sure he will survive?” It’s so hushed with desperation in your voice. But the maester could only respond with a sorrowful shake. It breaks your heart wholly, to know not even the best medical professionals had a clear understanding or answer to their King’s expectancy.

As you feel pathetic tears, ready to fall, the Queen Regent rushes to take hold of your forearm. She drags your pitiful self out of the chambers. The bodies that remained stepped aside for you and Alicent to leave swiftly. A quick flash of silver and black vanishes from your peripherals, but you cannot process anything that is happening anymore.

The syllables of your name ring against your ears as the Queen Regent tries to bring you back to her. “My dear, please focus on me.” Delicate fingers drape a hold of your jaw, firmly. They smooth over the apples of your cheeks, smoothly and soothingly like a gesture a mother would do for their children. “You need to stand strong for Aegon and yourself. Your children, think of Jaehaera and Meagor! Pray to the gods for his health.”

With that, you took a deep breath.

Aemond was avoidant to the whole ordeal. No one besides Criston Cole was there when he found his brother’s scorched body. Alongside his dragon, Sunfrye, it looked as though he was fighting for his last breath. Aemond would’ve taken that chance to send him to eternal sleep if not for Cole’s arrival. A pity for him.

As he watches the scene before him, your grief-stricken features are what caused the most pain. You resembled a tragic painting, so angelic it’s saddening to see you this way. Aemond could’ve done it. He could have killed his brother and taken the glory of killing Meleys. Despite that, he did not and stormed from the scene. Now left in the shadows of what’s to come, he numbly waits for the maester’s work to be done with. The Council meeting will begin shortly. After Aegon’s procedure and Maester Orywle, official confirmation of whether he would live or not would determine whether he would become the true heir or not.

This was what he wanted, yes?

Except, everything was bleak now. All the colors he witnessed were suddenly wiped; now all he saw was black and white. Your tragic face comes into mind, along with your fragile sniffles and tears. Gods, he wanted to comfort your sweet little heart. Yet knowing he was the cause of it, made Aemond strangely more devoted to you. If Aegon does not survive, you are bound to be a widow. Your youngest child, Meagor was still but a babe, unfit and too young to understand what an heir was. Therefore he would be the rightful option if all else failed. He would rule in the King’s stead.

That was what the one-eyed prince considered when he stepped through the doors to begin the Council. The King’s chair was empty as expected, looking lonely and authoritative without its ruler. In the same sense, on the opposite side, you sat soberly with nothing but a blank look. You wore cool-toned colors this morning. It reflected much of what you must be feeling.

Grief, misery, and blame. Even in this poor state, he still considers you attractive and alluring. It’s a shame you looked dejected and lifeless despite all your energy and might to stay awake. Your hair was even braided in a simpler style. Knowing you always had a knack for extraverted taste, Aemond takes in your appearance profoundly. Because perhaps, everyone in the Council can understand the emphasis on the wife of the King. As they eagerly await Maester Orwyle’s results, they all gaze at your seat for any kind of solace.

He takes the chair to your left and sits. While the Grand Maester begins to explain Aegon’s conditions. The longer he spewed, the more you felt your heavy heart fall deeper into your chest. How would the realm react now? Their king suddenly struck and immobile to be by their side. He had defeated Rhaenys in battle however now suffered in a long-inducing coma just as his father did. Who would rule in his absence? It only made sense in your mind but you did not make it become a reality.

“But he is very much alive, Your Grace,” Maester Orywle gives an earnest smile to the Queen Mother as she exhales with the utmost relief. “Though he will need time to recover, I do not think he will ever be the same.”

An unfavorable grunt from Aemond brings attention from you and Cole. “So he is unable to leave his chambers.”

“I’m afraid not,”

“Then we must choose who is to rule in his stead,” Lord Wylde speaks of the obvious, sparing everyone a momentary glance. He clears his throat and rubs his beard, nervously.

“If anyone should come in Aegon’s stead, it is his wife,” Alicent jabs, shooting quick assertiveness when she presses her crossed palms onto the table. Your name leaves her lips as a clear sign of hope. “She was the closest companion to the King and has been since this war started. It is only right for her to continue her husband’s intentions and plans.”

“And what plans did the King have?” A pompous statement coming from her second son, which surprised you as well. Aemond was known for his restrained nature however it seems as days passed, he was slowly losing his grip on his sanity. “I am the closest heir the King has. Would it not be I who rules in his stead?” In the turn of the tides, the room is divided upon their suggestions. You can tell by the wary looks the lords hold with each other. However, you have been grateful for Alicent’s support regardless of the cold shoulder she has given you previously.

“You are not fit, Prince Aemond,” Your fingers slide and take hold of the marble ball in front of you. The weight of the object pleasantly gives you a boost of poise to look him in his one good remaining eye. “The King’s line is still secured for my son, Meagor will become the next heir. But he is young so for the time being, I am naturally the next in line to come to his stead. As his wife and Queen, I should have a say as well.”

It’s what Aegon would’ve wanted.

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pedrospatch · 6 months ago

Text

splash

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33

Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.

She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.

“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”

He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”

But it had been too late.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”

Joel decided to put his foot down.

Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.

“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”

“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.

“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.

He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.

Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.

Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.

Like Rosie does.

Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.

“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”

Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”

“Joel—”

“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.

“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”

He’d found very little consolation in that.

Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.

“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”

“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”

Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.

“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”

“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”

She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”

Groaning, you shove through the front door.

You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.

It would take some getting used to—again.

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.

There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”

“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”

“How long is a while, El?”

“She invited me to stay for dinner.”

You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”

Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you ask Joel for permission?”

“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”

Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?”

“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”

“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.

There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.

Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.

“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.

“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.

He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”

Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.

“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”

She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks.

After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”

“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”

“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S��enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”

“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.

“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”

You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.

He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.

“Joel? What happened to my child?”

“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”

“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”

Rosie beams. “Yeah!”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”

“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.

“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.

Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her.

“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”

About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply.

“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him.

Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”

“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”

His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”

Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.

“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”

Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”

“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”

divider credit to @/saradika 🩵

#fic: snapshots #girldad!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic

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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

Text

Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

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leascorner · 9 months ago

Text

b.b. | With child

Summary: He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader

Warnings: angst ('cause I can't write anything else), alluding to sex (no description whatsoever), discussions around pregnancy, pregnancy, mention of alcohol.

Words Count: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Had this in the work for the longest time. I was actually thinking to publish it for his season (#4 I hope!). But we got new stills of Season 3 and it's nearly Valentine's Day so... Enjoy!

“Are you-” you asked when you noticed your sister-in-law had let her glass of wine and her plate untouched.

Your words stayed lost on your tongue, yet Daphne, sat in front of Benedict and next to you, knew exactly what you were about and nodded slightly, tears in her eyes. You let out a small cry of excitement and leant in to hug her. While you wore the most delighted expression, Benedict’s heart sunk a little at the news.

His sister was with child. Again. She was the second women of his family to be expecting this year, while he had yet an exciting news to share himself.

You both had wed a little over than a year and a half ago now and were yet to be blessed with a child. You were doing your best, of course, but none your efforts had been fruitful so far. Benedict did not mind; he had waited his whole life to meet you, he definitely could wait a little bit longer.

He did not mind, or so he thought…

Tonight, he thought life was particularly unfair to him. Every pregnancy announcement was only nourishing this harrowing feeling in his chest. All he could feel was his siblings’ bliss and it made him sick to the stomach. Yes, he was sick with jealousy - and ultimately selfish. He just couldn’t wait to feel your belly growing, to hold your children, to watch them playing around with their cousins, for them to grow older and become adults themselves. Just this simple thought made his very own heart felt extremely heavy.

Politely and quietly, he raised his glass wishing his sister a healthy pregnancy, before drinking away his sorrow.

The ride home that night was particularly quiet.

Silence had never been a thing between the two of you. Benedict was usually the most talkative, telling you about his days, about whatever painting he was going to paint, about that book he had been reading. You would listen, looking back at him with your big bright eyes and a soft smile onto your lips. Other times, he would watch you pacing back and forth in his study while passionately debating about politics. He would be drawing imaginary circles on your soft skin as you were lying in bed, you telling him about another one of your days chaperoning one of his sisters. He would listen to your laugh at one of his jokes. Even your fights would be followed by soft apologies, quiet words, whimpers, and love.

On the contrary, that night, the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite describe, and the coach was wrapped up in dark clouds, a genuine storm in the awakening. Sat on the opposite side, you were looking through the window, your face only light up by the few shines of the full moon. Benedict was so focused on his own thought that he didn’t realize you hadn’t had a word for the rest of the night.

He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. It only made him angrier at the entire world. Why couldn’t they let you live this as well?

He would have liked to discuss this with you - his regrets, his hope - but he was too afraid you would realize what a failure he was. How disappointed with him you were. How you would hate him for not being able to offer you this. So, he sat back in his seat and watched out of his own window.

When the coach stopped in front of your residence, Benedict got out first, offering his hand to help you getting down the small step like he always did. You smiled at him, thanking him politely, and let go of his hand as soon as your two feet were on the ground. It didn’t mean anything, he tried to reassure himself, you needed both of your hands to grab the tissue of your dress to prevent the hem from getting wet and dirty. Yet, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.

Silently, he followed you inside, hat in his hands, jaw locked. You were welcomed as usual by your housemaid, who got both of your coats and stayed there, in the uncomfortable silence, arms full, waiting for one of you to dismiss her. As you took off your gloves and didn’t dare look at Benedict, he nodded sharply to let her know she could go and watched her somehow disappear in an instant.

Suddenly, it was only the two of you again and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest being crushed by the invisible weight of his sorrow. He couldn’t bare staying with you one more second. He needed to get out of here.

“Good night,” he said firmly, before walking to his study.

Would he have looked back he would have seen you watching him disappear in the corridor. You, all alone in the middle of the hall, arms dangling. He would have seen the frown on your face and the hurt in your eyes. Would he have looked back he would have run back to your side. Instead, he did none of that. He continued marching, head up high, trying to escape his own misery.

You sighed before turning in the opposite direction and to your shared bedroom.

Benedict went to bed less than an hour after you.

He had been haunted by guilt as soon as he had reached his study, sadness evaporating once he had stepped inside the room. Instead of turning back and chasing after you, he had tried to put his head in order. He then had tried painting whatever he was feeling, but he could only stay in front of his white canvas, terrified of laying his brush on the cotton. He had tried writing it, but he couldn’t concentrate enough; his thoughts always drifting to you, alone in your bedroom. He had then settled on having a drink to wait long enough for you to fall asleep before he could go to bed - his other option would have been to sleep in his study if he got too drunk, which he did not.

He had thought long about the whole situation. It wasn’t like you were not trying. Sometimes, even with doing the right things, it didn’t happen. He would need to accept this. And he couldn’t continue being a terrible husband. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault actually. What he knew more than anything though was that he loved you. Whatever would happen, he could not afford to lose you.

He had decided he would come clean tomorrow, but for now, he only wanted to sleep with you by his side.

In the dark of your room, Benedict undressed and lied besides you as silently as possible.

All he could hear was your uneven breathing; whatever dream you were having did not seem to be pleasant. He reached out to your arm, hoping that you could feel his presence through his touch and know he would always be there for you.

It wasn’t until your body was rocked by a hiccup that he understood that you were not having a bad dream, you were crying.

“Y/N?” he asked, lying on his side to face your back.

“I am so sorry,” your voice was only a whisper.

He gently made you roll on your side. Even in the dark, his right hand was able to find your face and his thumb to rub the tears away. Before he could ask what was wrong, you spoke:

“I am so-” You chocked on – yet – another sob and it took you a couple of seconds to even out your breathing so you could speak properly: “So sorry- for not being able to get you- get you what you ever wanted.”

“My love,” he sighed, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Instinctively, you hide your face in his chest, and he started stroking your hair to try and calm you. “My love, do not ever feel guilty on this.”

“I have tried every tea, every method that is supposed to help,” you cried some more.

It broke his heart to realize the burden on your heart - of course, if he was feeling it, you would have too. He finally understood how selfish he had been, how centred on his own pain he was and so oblivious to yours. It had never been a subject between the two of you, but it was slowly crushing you both.

“My love, this is not your fault.”

“You don’t see the pity in their eyes. You don’t hear them whisper.” You sniffled against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. “We are even blessed Lady Whistletown has not written about us.” He heard the frustration in your voice and the ton of it made him understand how you had tried to suppress the guilt but failed. It pained him that out of all of this, it was you who were the one being charged guilty by everyone - you included. As if you couldn’t imagine it being his own fault. As if you couldn’t imagine it being anyone’s fault but yours.

“Perhaps, I-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “I drink loads of Colin’s stupid tea; I paint with all sorts of chemicals substance. Perhaps, I can’t-”

“Ben, of course, no!”

“Perhaps we won’t ever-” he confessed, but he couldn’t even say it out loud. It was all too much.

You moved against him, and he felt both of your hands grabbing his face, your forehead resting again his. He felt your hot breath against his skin, and he hugged you tighter, crushing your bones, making sure you were close.

He had you, he kept repeating himself. It was all that mattered. Of course, it was a dear wish of his to see mini versions of yourselves running around, but not at all costs. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice what you both had, right here, right now.

“We are both healthy, it is more than all I could ever wish for.”

“Will this ever be enough for you, though?” you asked so quietly he nearly did not hear you.

Benedict frowned. Was it really what you thought? That he would leave you? That your own self was not enough for him? He had been an even more terrible husband he had thought to lead you thinking this. He had failed you on so many levels.

“I was so absorbed by my own desire of having my own family,” he whispered back like he was telling you a secret, “I never asked if you also desire to have children of your own.”

“Ben, of course, I want your children!”

Benedict wanted to express how grateful he was to have you in his life, but no words came to his mind at that moment. He only reached out to your lips, trying to express how much he loved you.

If he could not tell you, he could still show you…

Hours later, while you were lying in bed, your head on Benedict’s chest, his left hand drawing invisible love words on your back and the other holding you close, he thought that there was nothing else he would like to do than stay with you, like this, forever.

“We should just take some time away from here.”

“What do you mean? The season only began-”

“To hell with worldliness. Some time away, just the two of us.” The sun was slowly peeking through the blinds, its yellow light was painting on your naked skin a glowy spectrum. “I heard South of France is particularly beautiful, this time of the year.”

Your chin on his chest, you looked back at him, eyes bright. He was looking at you the same way you had catch him do a million time: a soft smile on his lips, his eyes filled of this spark, shinning only for you. You didn’t care how beautiful France would be, he was the most beautiful view you had ever laid eyes on.

His hand brushed some hair out of your face, and you grabbed it to kiss his knuckles.

“France, it is then.”

Little did you know, you would be coming back home a few months later, bearing your own little miracle.

One of the many to come.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #lea's writing #benedict bridgerton fanfiction

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unabashednightmarepizza · 1 year ago

Text

𝑀𝑦 𝐶𝑎𝑡 𝐼𝑛 𝐷𝑖𝑠𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑒

A/N: This is definetly not me projecting my love for cats and Regulus. Also, if anyone is interested in documentaries, I recommend you watching "Inside of a cat's mind". It was really interesting, and also a seratonin boost for me.

A/N: I feel like this sucks but I couldn't think of another way to end this, I hope you guys like it!

Prompts used: "I love her so bad" from this, "you are my favourite, you always have been." from this.

"That's downright ridiculous..."

"Oh, come on, Reggie! What better way than this to show your lover your new animagus form?"

Regulus swinged his tail back and forth angrily as he laid on his mattress on his front legs, even rolling his eyes at his dumb friends as they continued to tease him with his brand-new look. It wasn't like he could talk in that form, but he was so goddamn sure that his eyes gave his thoughts away. What started this conversation and the endless teasing from his friends was that Regulus could now transform into his Animagus form.

Which was a black cat. A cute and cuddly one, as Pandora said while scratching his ears as Barty and Evan made fun of him for being soft. He hissed at them loudly, showing his sharp claws as a silent threat as he nuzzled closer to the sweater under his paws, full of your smell and perfume as a little happy smile found his face, watching Pandora who had been petting him as she chastised the other two in the room.

But it did nothing to help.

Since when it did anyways? Nothing could stop those idiots...

Barty and Evan let out a bark as they rolled on their bed, Barty crouching down with his hands on his knees in front of Pandora who had been sitting down on the ground, shaking her head for him not to do anything that would anger Regulus.

But, as usual, Barty didn't care, and dramatically wiped a fake tear from his eye as he offered his forefinger to Regulus, who had been eyeing him with bored eyes and an evil plan, wondering if it was obvious on his cat face as he imagined the delight he would feel.

"Awww, look at our little Reggie! So angry and deadly, with his little claws and teeth~ You are so soft now, so cuddly that I can just-AHHH!"

But of course, Regulus' personality didn't change just because he turned into a cat and since everyone practically knew not to call him that name... Well, except for his lovely lover you, and Barty still did it...

It was only fair for him to bite his finger and claw at his face.

"And that's what happens when you mess with Regulus, Barty. He is still the same friend we have that absolutely hates to be teased and that's what you get..." Pandora sighed out as she rose up, passing by them in the common room as she got out. She didn't care about the screaming behind her, Evan cackling on the ground about "how Barty got bitten by a kitten" while the boy tried to convince him that "it was a literal cheetah that bit him and not a kitten" as if his cooings and awes weren't the reason behind that cat's anger.

Well, he warned him that he didn't like that nickname so he had it coming, right?

Regulus nuzzled deeper into Pandora's arms as the young girl giggled, smiling to herself at seeing her friend happy as he always was whenever he had that special clothing close to him. "Don't worry, Regulus... I know Y/N is in the Great Hall, preparing you food again. So, I'll take you to your precious lover~"

And if his face couldn't show the possible blush on his face and how comedically wide his eyes were, the way he jumped up and kneaded your sweater that he found in his room after stealing it definetly did the job.

His heart beated harder at the thought of seeing you, preparing him a plate with a cute frown and possibly cursing at him for not caring about his health as you made little talk with your friends here and there...

He always knew he was one hell of a lucky guy for finding someone like you. So caring and loving and supporting...

All his life, Regulus never had known love or care. At least not from his mother and her twisted way of showing love and his father's abuse. All he had, for the longest time, was his brother and even then, he never thought he could have more, deserved more.

More of that love and affection he craved.

So, after pinning after you since the firs year, he finally had the courage of asking you out... Even if he didn't want to think back to that day because of the high stuttering of his, a sign of how nervous he was and how important you were to him.

Because that mother and father of his might have failed at showing what true love means, he had plenty of times to secretly read all about romantic books and witness it with his own mind and heart. He often thought that they weren't real, that the author went overboard with all the struggles and fights the main characters went through for the love they shared with each other, strong enough to stand against every strong wind, army or even death.

He questioned whether love was worth it all, when he wanted something serene and comforting. He was done with all the fights anyways, he didn't want any of those any more.

He deserved that at least, right?

But soon, he realized that not everyone is like his parents. Not every relationship is disasterous with the fights and disagreements... They are what makes it stronger and more powerful, with every hardship that comes.

He learnt that without those waves and little obstacles in the way, the comforting relationship and tender love he desperately needed would never be his.

So, he gulped down his worries and confessed his love to you, in one of the many times that you two hung out in the Astronomy Tower. By that time, you were already aware of his feelings by the way he was so soft with you and actually seeked to spend more time with you throughout your days together.

Besides, you were sure Regulus didn't spend his time taking girls to watch stars as he rambled about each of them while subconsciously holding your hand.

But then... Another problem arose: Showing his affections, a basic need of a relationship in his eyes.

Because, as any sane person could tell, Regulus didn't have the healthiest of relationship with his parents even though he knew what they... had between each other was far from love. He knew he would never dare, and rather kill himself, to do any of the things they did to each other to you. He knew he wanted to hold you, kiss you, openly show his love, the way his eyes shone brighter at the sight of you as you skipped to him was enough of a sign...

But he knew he wouldn't be able to bear all the teasing his friends and his brother, with whom he recently fixed his relationship, would do.

And he hated himself for thinking like that, doing the exact opposite of what he wanted to do when you didn't deserve it at all. He didn't want you to think that he was ashamed of you, which you never did and gold him that it was fine he didn't declare his love out all the time like a certain older brother of his and knew he loved you through his actions...

But it wasn't enough for him, it wasn't enough for the voices in his mind to stop.

You deserved a man who wouldn't shy away, who didn't have severe issues with himself. Someone who wasn't the item of a fucked up ideology... Someone who would be proud and confident in both himself and you, slinging an arm around you while walking and give you anything you asked for.

Perhaps a free future... Away, in a cottage with some animals...

But he was a selfish man who wanted to be that person, to be the reason of your smile and happiness every day. He just... had to find a way to show all of these thoughts and feelings.

But he was bad at it... So, why not get the help of a cute animal to see what you exactly like? And show his feelings?

"I swear to Merlin, I will strangle that boy when I see him! He disappears all the time, without eating! Who does he think he is?" You angrily turned to your friend who was eating her fries as she stopped her hand mid-air and looked at you with her eyes and mouth wide open. "What? Who?"

"Regulus, of course! That boy will give me a heart attack at one point, the other day I found him literally choking Barty because of that nickname again!" You angrily scoffed as you dumped more food like an angry mother, but your friend only laughed because of the twitch of your lips upwards.

"Yeah, but you love him and his special treatment, no?" She wiggled her brows as she continued to eat and you sighed out in bliss, a loving and stupid smile plastering on your face.

And yes, yes you loved him and his stupid grin whenever he teased you and his sweet smile as he watched you do your own thing.

But it wasn't enough of a reason to not to scold him when you see him as soon as possible.

"Maybe. And yes, I very much so am in love with him but I'll strangle him anyways... He promised to not pick up fights and take care of himself better- Oh, hi Pandora!"

You turned fast to where the bubbly girl was coming to your way, excitedly waving at her when your eyes landed on... the cutest ball of sunshine on her arms.

"Hi, Y/N! I see that you are... agitated?" She snorted to herself as she saw how you changed your mood at the sight of the cat between her arms as you nodded absentmindedly to her, waving off her question while scratching the little cat's chin with a stupid smile on your face. It was a known fact around the school how weak you were to them, and also your boyfriend.

With you both being smitten with each other, y'know?

Unknown to you though, that cat was the boy you loved, and he was soaking all the love in like a sponge. He was grinning from ear to ear, as much as a cat would be able to do, and he jumped down from where he was seated between Pandora's arms and flunged himself up towards your legs, pawing at them to make you cuddle him.

Patheatic, his inner voice said but he answered with I love her so bad....

"Well, it seems that our friend loves you very much!" She wiggled her brows playfully as you giggled, not aware of the daggers the cat, Regulus, was giving to your dear friend. Pandora didn't care though, she knew he never meant any of those stares and besides, that was exactly the moment for her to leave him with you so that he could get his head out of his arse and see how much you loved him and didn't care if he showed his love around people or not.

Because, by the state he was in, he didn't know shit about the extend of your love for him.

"Then, I will leave you with him! Don't worry he is very docile and easygoing, I'm sure you two will get along well! Goodbye!"

"Wait, Pandora- Wow, she left so soon..." you mumbled in thought as you looked down at the cat still pawing at your legs with wide blue eyes, his pupils almost so big that his eyes couldn't be seen as he meowed softly to you.

"Aww, don't worry I won't leave you! But I was going to visit my careless boyfriend who forgot to eat, again..." you kneeled on the ground with a playful scowl as you took him between your arms, cooing at the loud purr he let out as he nuzzled deeper in you. "I think he will like you too, what do you say? Hmm?"

Yeah, love, considering the fact that it's me... I think I will like myself enough...

Throughout the walk to your boyfriend's dorm, you kept the same big smile on your face as you kept looking down at the cat and squeezed his cheeks with your fingers. Cuteness agression is really something, you thought as he looked around the familiar sight of the door to his house's common room. He started to whine and get angsty a little bit, not wanting this "cuddle session" to come to an end.

"Don't worry, little one! I'm not leaving, I will sit here until Reg comes back and probably beg him to let me have you all to myself..."

He meowed in response, wincing under his breath at how this was the only way to communicate with you. Love, you already has that cat to yourself...

You smiled softly as the cat sniffed Regulus' bed and jumped on it, circling around himself until he found a good position and stared at you expectantly. You smiled back at the cat and turned your back to him to set the food down on his desk. Suddenly staring at the dark sky outside and seeing how long has it been that you last saw Regulus, you sighed sadly, wondering when he will be back and whether you should get out of his dorm before his friends arrived or not.

Sensing your sudden sadness, Regulus immediately jumped up and meowed at you hurriedly. Even as a cat, he was weak for your sadness and immediately alerted.

"Hmm? Oh nothing, little guy... Just wondering when my boyfriend will come and finally start to take care of himself." You laughed when he hissed softly and almost seemed like he was pointing at the bed. "You want me to lay down?"

A barely-there nod.

"Okay... I think I can use some rest. Scoot over..." you shuffled on the bed as its silky feeling engulfed you, resulting with you letting out a relieved sigh as the cat purred happily over your chest. You trailed a soft finger down his spine and up towards his face, your hand patting him while holding him as if he was a baby.

And he freaking loved it, loved the feeling of safety of your arms.

And obviously, when cats were happy, they purred loudly.

"Hmm? Oh, you like me? I like you too, little guy! You're so cute and so elegant with your black fur and shiny, blue eyes." Regulus purred even more loudly as he nestled on your chest, bumping his head to your chin, and neck as a way of marking you. You giggled at the cat, actually your possessive boyfriend, and continued to play with the playful cat as he made several cute moves with his body and eyes.

His behaviour surprised you, since you thought black cats were mostly grumpy and "I show affection ONLY when I want to, human." kind of animals. But this one....

This one didn't even leave your side for the whole day and instead laid on your lap, purring at every chance he had. Somewhere in a muggle book, you remembered reading that a cat's purring often touches the paternal part in one's brain and that's why humans care for them a lot.

Which was goddamn right, even if it was the same frequency of a baby crying. But though a baby's cry was often irritating with its high pitch, a cat's purr was comforting.

Another reason to convince Regulus to adopt kittens for when you left the school, and settled in an apartment as soon as possible.

"And you remind me of someone I reaaally love, y'know? I'm sure he would like to have you... Don't tell him this, but you are now my favourite thing in the world!"

Wait... Wait, wait, wait! What? That was so offensive! A cat, who you knew for a few hours, took your favourite place?!

"Meowwww!"

Nope, he couldn't let it happen! The plan wasn't even this!

"Hmm? What's wrong, did I say something bad?" You wondered as the cat you adored suddenly turned pissy, throwing what you assumed as "cat tantrums" after whatever you said that triggered him. Regulus, though, started to pace around the bed nervously. You tilted your head in confusion as the cat he jumped up and tugged on your robes to make you get up.

Yeah, cats definetly have God-complex...

"Okay, okay, fine! I'm up, I seriously don't know what... is... wrong..." your jaw hung open with your eyes wide when the black cat you adored and showed immense love to was... None other than your boyfriend.

"Regulus?"

"Hi, love..." he shyly looked at you as his hand caressed his face tiredly, tugging on the skin as he grumbled at the stinging pain on his back while trying to relieve himself from the pain. "Damn it, my spine hurts..."

"What... I don't understand, you have been the cat?! All this time?" You pointed to him with your hands in surprise, still not believing that the cat was your boyfriend who apparently learnt to become an animagus.

"Yeah, I was the cat..."

"But... why? Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of you for achieving becoming an animagus," he smiled softly at how you didn't miss the opportunity of praising him for his accomplishment, and he couldn't help but wonder at how easy it was for you to see past the fact that he hid something from you. He expected you to be angry for hiding it, but you were just... confused?

Why?

"But why did you hide it? I mean, it's a pretty big deal and your cat form was so beatiful with your little paws, soft fur and big eyes- I'm starting to loose the point of the talk, so please... explain."

He laughed when you finished your rant with a blushing face, looking at him with a flustered face as you waited. He knew you wouldn't judge, Merlin knew you never did, so he sat down on his bed and patted the area next to him.

"Because... I didn't know what else to do to show you." You continued to look at him confused for a second, occasionally side eyeing the room as if a clue would suddenly appear and lighten whatever that was going on right now.

"Well, it's only logical to show me rather than throwing random bottles on the ground... But I think you don't mean you, being a liquid-"

"Cats are not liquid, love..." Regulus sighed lovingly as you knitted your brows and playfully shook your head before laying a kiss on his cheek. "No, they are! They fit into anything possible even an asymetrical glass box!"

"When did you see a cat do that?"

"My sibling's cat... Though it could be because it is weird..."

He laughed as you seriously started to wonder whether what you said about the cat was true or not, and pulled you to himself by your shoulders. He was grateful you changed the subject after noticing he was slightly uncomfortable but...

He had to be honest after spending the whole day with you, and seeing what Pandora said about you and how much stronger your love was for him.

Because he finally knew, he didn't have to be a cat spy to show you his love.

"As much as my heart feels like it could explode with love from you noticing I was uncomfortable and tried to change the subject," you smiled bashfully as you blinked your eyes at him, not stopping him. He sighed once before keep going. " I did it to show you... how much I love you and show my affection in the only way I knew."

You would have cut him in the middle but by the slight wavering of his voice, you knew that it was something he had to get off of himself... That this conversation was important for him in every way possible.

So you listened... And with every word passing his lips, your eyes softened for the fragile and soft-hearted boy next to you.

"I never knew love, I never knew how to love and show it freely. Mom and dad saw it as a weakness, others saw it as some inconvenience... Sirius was the only one I have, and even then, he was the one expressing his feelings freely. Not me. I always did it silently... Taking care of Sirius' injuries after mother punished him or dad beat him. I did it by stealing his favourites from the kitchen or learning how to make them when my parents weren't home...."

A deep sigh, one that told many unsaid stories and feelings.

" Then I showed it with taking notes for my friends when they weren't able to attend classes. I showed it by taking care of their many injuries that definetly weren’t a result of training but rather... abuse. Merlin knows, I know those kind of bruises like the back of my hand. Then... But then, you came along with your shining eyes and wide smile, asking if you could sit with me in the train and suddenly... I-I wanted to be more. For you. I wanted to be enough of a man to deserve your love and show it to the whole world. Like my brother who openly hugged people, and kissed their cheeks or nuzzled to them... But soon, I was reminded that I would always be his shadow."

Silence scretchted between you as you continued looking at him, not being sure what to do now that he suddenly opened up about why he was avoiding you. You definetly didn't think your night would end up like this, even if him opening up to you was everything you wanted, but you would never be able to know that feeling.

Feeling like someone's shadow, having to endure what Regulus endured... Something he was grateful that never happened and would never happen now that you were with him.

You wouldn’t understand any of it, but you could be there for him now that he wouldn't be alone.

"You once asked me... 'Do you ever hide who you trully are?' at the side of the Black Lake in one of our nightly dates. I kept my silence then, didn't want to scare you off with my strong feelings since it was still too early but not for me who loved you for 2 year prior to that night, but... I never did, not with you, never with you. But... I never felt enough for you. I mean... How could someone as amazing as you would deserve the love of some coward? Someone who feared showing love?" He almost spitted the word "fear" as he shook his head in near disbelief at himself and how "ridiculous" he sounded, and you hated how much self-loathing he had and how easy it was for him to point that hatred to himself.

You had to change it, maybe not immediately but definetly in time.

"Regulus..." you softly rubbed his hand softly to make him look at you, and when he turned his head towards you... You saw the tears pooling in his ocean eyes. Your heart dropped to your stomach harshly as you gulped and brought his forehead down to meet yours. A silent move to convey your feelings to him.

"How could you not be enough of something you already have, from the very beginning?" You rubbed his cheek softly, bringing his face closer to yours as you kissed his eye-lids. As if you were scared to hurt him even more, when what all the world had been doing to him was hurting him.

Regulus shuddered as a shaky breath left him, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of your words. He lifted his eyes, looked into your own that showed only one thing and only for him: Love.

"You are enough, even if you don't think so and I love you, I loved you from the beginning." A gasp left him as his hands thightened their hold on yours nervously. You laughed awkwardly. " You don't have to say it immediately but... Please, don't be so harsh on yourself. It's okay to not want to do PDA, I already told you.... All I care is your happiness, that's it."

And with that, Regulus threw himself all over you from the immense feeling he was feeling at that moment, hugging you with all his might as you returned to gesture just as fiercely. After all, it had been a long day and you missed your boyfriend, the one that would speak about Quidditch nonstop all the while letting you sleep on him as his hands caressed your hair and rubbed your back softly.

Just like now, with the adding of inhaling the scent of your hair deeply which made your heart race sweetly.

And now that the stress of him was now over and you knew what was going on...

It was time to tease him back.

"Did you just get jealous of a cat enough to come clean to me?" You mumbled from your position where your face was buried in his neck, the tingles making him giggle as a groan left him at feeling your smile on his skin.

"Love, please!"

"What? You are the one who was jealous!" You giggled playfully, but your enjoyment was soon cut when Regulus threw himself on his bed with his arms still wrapped around you. You landed harsher on his chest than you imagined and you were worried you accidently crushed him but his sigh of contentment and the way he nuzzled to your neck showed that he was far from being bad.

"I can't believe you now have a nuzzling habit, are you going to knead at me too?" You hit his chest softly when his eyes shot open and an evil smirk found his face.

Oh, that's not something good...

"I already did it earlier when I laid on your chest- Oww!"

"Regulus Arcturus Black, when did you have a foul mouth!" You hit him with his pillow as he laughed hard and ended up on the floor while trying to stop you.

"What can I say, love. I have the most gorgeous lover of all Hogwarts!"

That little shit and his sweet tongue, knowing how to get himself out of any problem...

"Okay, you got out of trouble for now... You are my favourite by the way, you always have been, in case your childish self got jealous of a cat..." you grumbled out when his head landed on your thighs and looked up at you innocently.

"That cat was still me though..." he looked at you through his lashes as you giggled, relishing on your words and how they made warmth spread all around his whole body.

"Yeah, yeah, sure... There is something I have to show you though. I was planning for a few days now. Promise to not get sad?" He nodded without knowing and guessing what was happening...

But the only thought that crossed Regulus' mind, when he saw you changing into a pure white cat, was I love her.

As you swinged your tail around Regulus' waiting hand and nuzzled to him, he smiled softly and scratched your head softly while patting your ears. His heart felt so full of love and he didn't remember any other day he felt this much happiness.

"You are... most certaintly the most beautiful yet also annoying person I know. Being a white cat Animagus, completely contrasting me but also creating something so beautiful? Did you think I will let go of you easily after this?"

You tilted your head teasingly and let out a purr before changing back into your human form with your feet dangling off of the bed like a little kid as you threw your head back towards him to look at his raised brows while he tried to surpass the smirk that threatened to take over his face.

"Yeah, I know... But you love me, no?" You cutely smiled as you nuzzled closer to his chest, and unknown to you, he smiled to himself like a fool as he wrapped his arms all around your body thightly when your body reached where he was now sitting on the bed.

Oh Merlin, he already does love everything about you.

"Can we... cuddle like that? As cats? It could be our new bonding activity!"

"I can't believe... Okay, fine. Don't try anything funny though."

"Like what?"

"Like the meaning of that wiggly eye-brows!"

But since you both were weak for each other, you two soon dozed off like that, one white and black cat tangled together peacefully as their hearts beated the same beat.

Not knowing that the next day, Barty would startle everyone awake and embrass you while yelling "Our Reggie found another chich, cat, kitten, whatever! He is cheating on our sweet Y/N!"

#regulus black x you #regulus x y/n #regulus x reader #regulus black #regulus imagine #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x reader #regulus black imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter imagine #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #SUMMER CELEBRATION🏖

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elflutter · 2 months ago

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— salvation logan howlett x chubby!reader | ao3 | part two

synopsis:

“Like what you see, old man?” Your voice comes out more breathy than intended, eyes sparkling as you goad Logan just a little. “You fuckin’ know I do, princess.” Logan presses his nose to your hair, inhaling your scent like he wants it to mark his soul. “Mmm, I think I could use a little refresher.” Your grin is coy as you ask him to worship your body like an altar.

notes: explicit (minors dni), worst!wolverine, fem!reader, body worship, oral sex, established relationship, domestic fluff, porn with feelings

word count: 1.6k

You hear shuffling footsteps behind you over the rush of water from where you stand at the sink, giving the plates a quick rinse before gingerly placing them in the dishwasher. That was a perk of your boyfriend having a skeleton made of adamantium—he can’t even try to sneak up on you. It was Logan’s turn to cook tonight, which meant it was your turn to do the dishes. You don’t find any particular delight in washing the damp residue off the porcelain dishes. But you are more than willing to exchange this chore for the opportunity to ogle a shirtless Logan in his plaid pajama pants and dorky apron while he made you dinner. You would never have guessed that Wade’s gruff, violent new roommate would make such a damn good stir-fry. You cherished the memory of his gorgeous biceps as he chopped your favorite veggies—shamelessly wearing the Kiss the Cook apron you got him on Valentine’s Day. He had even winked at you. Winked! He was probably able to smell your arousal from where you sat on the couch, pretending to watch the news when really, you were watching him.

Thoughts drifting back to the present, you feel your lips curl up in a smirk. If he wants to be a little tease, you are more than happy to return the favor. You know exactly what these pajama shorts do to your man. Sometimes shorts that would be passable on someone with a smaller butt are downright indecent on you—not that you mind, when you only wear them around the apartment anyways. This pair are short and loose enough that the plump curve of your ass is on full display when you bend down to put the plates in the dishwasher.

You hear Logan's barely stifled grunt as you linger, bent in half longer than strictly necessary. After you had spent so many years pushing down insecurity about your body, you feel warmth well in your chest at showing off your plump figure to Logan in this way. You know he likes it. But that doesn’t make it any less delicious every time he tells you so.

In the beginning, you were downright surprised when he was interested in you. You knew you were beautiful, from your tummy, to your luscious thighs, to your more than generous ass. And from the first time you met him, you felt an undeniable pull towards Logan’s hardened physique, so different from the softness of your own. It wasn’t that you weren’t confident in your attractiveness. You had already won that battle with your body before meeting your Wolverine. It’s just that—with men who look like Logan—you have to keep yourself guarded. There are a lot of fucked up ideas about what makes a woman pretty, and a lot of the time, guys who look like Logan ascribe to them. But, once Logan had sniffed out your interest in him (with a little help from Wade), he made his feelings towards you abundantly clear. And you quickly discovered that beneath his gruff exterior is a delightful gentleman with a filthy mouth. Tonight, you plan on putting that mouth to extremely good use.

You arch your back as you stand up, and Logan is right behind you, calloused hands finding your hips like they have a hundred times before. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the ghost of his breath against your skin. Warmth is already rushing to your stomach and lower.

“Y’know what you’re doin’ to me, sweetheart?” Logan’s voice is a rough, low growl in your ear. You look over your shoulder at him, a wicked grin painted across your lips.

“You like what you see, old man?” Your voice comes out more breathy than intended, eyes sparkling as you goad Logan just a little.

“You fuckin’ know I do, princess.” Logan presses his nose to your hair, inhaling your scent like he wants it to mark his soul. One of Logan’s hands moves from your waist to rest on the countertop by the sink. You wiggle your hips just a little, feeling Logan’s delightful bulge against your ass.

You turn around in his arms, back pressed against the counter as Logan’s presence locks you in. He doesn’t use his strength. He doesn’t need to. Your pull towards him is magnetic, and wherever he wants you is where you want to be. He is careful never to rest the full weight of his frame on you, body hovering a hair’s breadth above your own. Your hand finds his neck in a gentle caress, moving up to tangle in his hair. His hazel eyes simmer with desire as they meet yours.

“Mmm, I think I could use a little refresher.”

Your grin is coy as you ask him to worship your body like an altar. In an instant, Logan’s lips find yours in a searing kiss. His hands cup your ass, lifting you up as you wrap your legs around his hips to steady yourself. You fucking love how he picks you up like you weigh nothing. You love your curves and your tummy, but they also meant that none of your past partners could carry you into bed like Logan can. This man might just have ruined you for anybody else, with his super-strength, and his gruff charisma, and his deceptively generous spirit.

Logan loves the way his fingers sink into your supple flesh just a little as he carries you into your shared bedroom. He lays you gingerly on the bed, soft sheets enveloping every gorgeous curve. His cock is already leaking pre-cum in his pants. He would be embarrassed, but he can smell how badly you need this too.

I think I could use a little refresher.

Well, you’ll get a fuckin’ refresher, Logan thinks to himself as he runs his hands along your body, following every blooming swell and valley. He has seen beauty standards come and go during his long life, but he can’t help but think your body is the most delectable he’s ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. He feasts upon the sight of you splayed beneath him, breasts rising and falling in anticipation, nipples peaked through your little tank top. Your body looks like something from myth. He takes one between his fingers and pinches softly. You let out a tiny, needy whimper. “Look like you belong in a damn painting, sweetheart.” His words are a low rasp in the charged air between you. “Like the fuckin’ Renaissance.”

Logan positions himself towards the bottom of the bed, hands resting on either side of your legs. His lip caress your ankle, leaving trails of electricity with every touch. He kissed his way up one leg, stopping just before reaching the apex of your thighs to kiss his way down the other. His lips brush along the curve of your calf, featherlight fingers caressing from your knee to your ankle with a reverence that steals your breath.

“Gorgeous fuckin’ legs,” Logan grunts. You can feel his words on your skin, his breath sending shivers up your legs and to your core. His hands sweep up to grab at your thighs, and you are already bucking your hips up into nothing, desperate for his touch. His name falls from your lips in a plea, and his eyes meet yours.

“These thighs’ll be the death of me, sweet girl. Can’t wait to feel ‘em crushin’ my head.”

Logan’s lips finally trace their way back up to where you need them most, his nose knocking against your clothed slit as he savors the heady scent of your arousal through your sleep-shorts.

“Let’s get these off ya, yeah?” His voice vibrates against you as you arch your back into him.

You nod desperately, and that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s slipping you out of your shorts and panties. Your bottoms are discarded on the floor, and Logan settles once again between your thighs.

“Smells so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” Desire pulls tight in your abdomen before he finally nuzzles into your pussy, lips puffy and ready for him. His gaze is heavy-lidded as it meets your own, his tongue darting out to lick a teasing circle around your clit. Your hands tangle in his hair, spurring him on, and his tongue finally laves a long, languid stroke up your slit. He stays like that for some time, head buried in your cunt. He feels your lush thighs press into him. Fucking you with just his tongue, chasing your pleasure. He moans as he laps at your arousal. You taste like divinity, like the nectar of the gods is pouring into his mouth. Suddenly it is not adamantium in his bones, but golden ichor in his veins as he hears you cry out beneath him. You come undone on his tongue, and he feels you flutter so sweetly beneath him.

He was never a religious man. But then he met you. The first time he kissed you was a benediction. The first time he tasted you was paradise. If you were Eden in that moment, he would have taken the apple in a heartbeat. You were his salvation after years alone. You were his light at the end of the tunnel.

You stroke his hair, pulling him back to the present. You haven’t even touched him yet, but he can feel himself leaking in his pajama pants. Your breath comes out in ragged pants. You let out a blissful laugh as Logan continues his careful caress of your body, his dripping mouth pressing kisses to your soft belly.

“You’re perfect, Lo.”

He chuckles against your skin before climbing up to straddle your hips. “No, babydoll. You are.”

a/n: wahhh thank you so much for reading! this is my first fic for logan!! but there will be more please let me know what you thought!! i planned to make this a longer one-parter, but i needed to get eyes on this and honestly it felt like a natural ending point for this part! don't worry they're going to fuck in part two xx

i also didn't proofread this as thoroughly as normal bc im extremely tired HAHA, let me know if there are any typos! (edit: i caught several grammatical errors while posting this on ao3, so i've updated this to fix them! please let me know if you see any more)

ty saradika-graphics for the lovely dividers!

#wolverine x fem!reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #wolverine x you #worst wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #logan howlett #my work #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #.5k

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annievrse · 2 months ago

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lipstick

sanji x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb

sanji would absolutely lose his mind if you left lipstick all over his face and neck!!!!

he would catch a glimpse of himself in his metal spoon and freeze because what is that all over his skin? i can see him trying to see all angles of his face with this stupid spoon when he realises what you did before he left to prepare lunch. his cheeks would turn the most monstrous red ever, and his eyes would turn into literal hearts.

smiling, sanji'd drop the spoon next to the boiling soup pot and start chopping vegetables into hearts. he'd be careful not to smudge your art as he plates lunch, calling for you before anyone else (as always). and when you'd walk into the kitchen, his chest would hurt like you were squeezing his heart with your bare hands (not that he would mind). you'd smile that little cheeky smile he loves when you see the lipstick marks and think you'd gotten away with the world's funniest prank. sanji sets a bowl before you, heart-shaped carrot and potato chunks swimming in the flavourful broth, and you'd know he'd caught on. your blonde cook would drop a kiss on the top of your head just as the crew piled into the kitchen.

he'd practically throw bowls of soup at luffy and zoro and chopper and usopp but set them down politely before nami and robin, their soup full of regular cut vegetables. his eyes would be on you the whole time, divulging your reaction to his meal, his head dizzy when you nod in delight at the taste. it wasn't until luffy, ever the oblivious captain, pointed out the marks on sanji's cheeks that the rest of his crewmates started teasing him. nami and robin would giggle, nudging your shoulders when your cook would show them off instead of cowering away. your eyes would meet his from across the room, and sanji'd give you the softest, most lovesick smile you'd ever received. the chatter and laughter (at sanji's expense) in the room would fade into the background, and it'd seem you were alone in a crowded room. the glint in his eye would remind you that you'd be getting it when you were away from everyone, and the feeling would make the butterflies in your stomach kick up a storm.

and when that time came, sanji would refuse to wash off the lipstick, letting you replace the faded marks with new ones in the depths of the girl's quarters when the rest of the crew were exploring the new island you were set to dock that night.

i think it's safe to say that the crew would see their cook with lipstick somewhere on him at all times, and it would quickly turn routine to leave an accidental smudge on his shirt collar or a partial mark on his hairline. but your crewmates would get bored extremely fast and move on to the next amusing thing (luffy found chopper's sneeze to be particularly hilarious).

#damn #i didnt think this would be so long #but its sanji so #one piece #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece x reader #sanji blurb #— ann writes!

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sweetiecutie · 1 year ago

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König who turns into the biggest baby when he’s sick.

He does have pretty bad fever - 38,4. Not as bad as it could be, but not the most optimistic picture as well. And keeping in mind König’s strong immunity and excellent health overall, this illness of his concerns you deeply, causing you to fret over your boyfriend even more than you normally would.

And of course this cheeky bastard takes full advantage of it.

König wraps himself deeper into plush covers of your shared bed, coughing a bit too often than his sore throat urges him to, sniffing his nose too loud for his actual rhinitis - and it all works. You just coo over his seemingly broken statue, placing your pleasantly cold hand onto the side of his burning up face, eyebrows scrunched up prettily in concern.

He munches on everything you give him with even greater appetite than usual - numerous fruit plates, delicious looking stews and soups, wide variety of herbal teas you brew him every hour. König may or may not whine and complain pitifully, oh so frail and too weak for doing even the most basic of thing, just so you have no other choice but spoon feed him🥺

König refuses to take his medicine unless you basically hand-feed them to him, popping a few pills into his mouth and keeping a mug with warm tea to his lips to drown the medicine down with, being extra careful to not spill it down his chin. But he’s all to pliant and willing to comply with doctor’s orders when it comes to you rubbing strong-smelling ligaments into his chest - soft fingers working sticky substance into König’s reddened skin, tucking him tightly into warm blankets afterwards and placing a kiss or two to his unnaturally warm forehead.

König does feel horrible tho - his joints and muscles ache constantly, making sitting, walking or laying down extremely uncomfortable; his nose is sore from wiping it with tissues so often, annoyingly swollen despite all the nose drops you give him, making breathing a difficult task; his throat burns with every viscous coughing fit, scratching it even further with hot air being pushed out of his lungs. But the sight of little pretty you - all worried about his wellbeing, making everything in your power to quicken his recovery - it is like a balm to König’s soul, causing him rub the bulb of thermometer one or two times to make it show slightly higher mark. Watching with thoroughly hidden delight as you shake you head, carefully putting device onto the bedside table; placing a smooch or two on the top of your lover’s head you headed out to the kitchen to treat poor thing König to some hot chocolate while he stretched in bed pleasantly, waiting for his perfect girlfriend to come back and dote on poor sick himself a little bit more <3

#he’s my pookie #könig headcanons #cod könig #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod x reader #cod mw #cod x you #cod fanfiction #cod mwf2 #cod mw3

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greedyhoneyz · 2 months ago

Text

And Many More. Toji Fushiguro

Cheers to many more years for you are forever growing— perhaps a little too fast.

contains: lots of fluff. dad!toji. husband!toji. baby megumi. author's notes: credit for this pic goes to the owner. enjoy!

The screen is black at first, then grainy before a couple splatters of colour flicker across. Then comes light and the fusing in of faces, figures and smiles.

It’s loud, and you can barely make out the voices behind the camera, but the few words that are recognizable are, “Don’t run, you're gonna fall...”

The camera pans over to the indoor play gym, an overmassing tower of steel, soft foam and pvc. It’s filled with kids of all ages and sizes, screaming their hearts out as they crawl, jump, slip and slide across the fortress.

The shot goes in and out of focus; you can hear the patter of fingers toying with the dials on the camera. It zooms out, the camera turning and a banner reading “Happy Birthday Megumi” fills the screen. Below it, a table full of presents tower atop one another which would occasionally rattle at the impending sound of children rushing by.

Children and adults come in and out of the frame as the camera pans to a long table, decorated with a lengthy, white tablecloth and plastic cups, plates, cutlery and pizza boxes.

The camera veers around to the play gym, zooming in on the ball pit by the bottom of the two conjoining slides. Happy faces are all around, the joyous laughter of children and the rumble of balls clattering against each other.

It’s not long before a mother appears by the ball pit, her hands propped on her hips as a discontented look washes over her face. She heaves, her chest retracting downwards, gathering her strength and exhales.

She climbs in, stumbling a bit and trudges through the pool of balls and children, maneuvering around and dodging spray balls ricocheting through the air.

She’s a couple meters away before stopping in front of a group of children. She waves, amuses their attention with animated expressions and gestures, and turns to the nearest child at her side.

She crouches down, beckoning the child to hip and tends to him with a kiss on the head and the motioning of her head. She jeers her head towards the group seating and stands, grabbing the child’s hand.

The mother and child in tow saunter through the ball pit as the camera zooms in and out. It follows the two just as they reach the edge of the pit, before the dishevelled silhouette of a stray ball comes flying overhead.

It whacks the cameraman on their head and the camera quickly falls to their feet, as the voice from behind groans and swears under their breath. “Shit… that fucking hurt.”

There’s shuffling behind the camera when the cameraman comes to their senses, the twirling of dials and the screen turns black.

Light returns to the screen; the camera is pointed at a table. Behind it, the mother and the child, stand, waiting expectantly. They look on behind the camera, following a mass of cake as it enters the frame.

It’s being carried by the father; a staunt expression painting his face. He places the cake on the table: it’s a large rectangle construction with blue and orange frosting, and black icing, and it’s accompanied by a few lit candles and the number “5”.

The father steps, positioning himself beside the mother and places a comforting hand on the young child’s shoulder as the mother ushers him to the center between.

The leisure center is quiet, except for the occasional cough and whisper. There’s some excited cheers and laughter which are quickly muted by a sharp hush or a mean retort which the camera picks up.

Reeling in, the camera focuses on the child perched between his parents. His eyes are wide with both shock and delight as he stares down at his cake, his mouth slightly agape. For a few moments, he peers up and takes in the expressions on his parents’ face, their joy and pride evident. They beam down at him, heartening him with tender words and smiles before the mother lifts her head and motions to the surrounding crowd.

“Happy birthday to you….Happy birthday to you…”

“Happy birthday to Megumi…..”

“Happy birthday to you…”

Megumi grins, his mouth reaching from ear to ear. He places his hands on the edge of the table with the beckoning of both his parents and guests, and leans forward, closing his eyes to blow out his candles.

He blows and his candles flicker but they stay strong in the wind.

He blows again, blowing out a few candles, yet the strongest amongst them survive. So he stops, closing his eyes once again and inhales deeply. He leans forward, lets out a heavy exhale and blows with all his might till his face turns red.

Through a long drag, his candles extinguish and in turn, Megumi changes. He sheds off his skin, shaking off his four year skin and sinks into his new skin— five.

The camera lense is rattled with cheers, screams and blinded by bright flashes as the guests welcome in a five year old Megumi.

He smiles gleefully and in awe, and turns to his parents once again. They peer down at him with bright faces and congratulate him. His mother plants a kiss on his cheek and then to his chin and then to his nose and then his eyes and then to his forehead. It’s evident she’s proud, over the moon and a little bit sad, but she takes on her emotions with stride and a warm smile.

His father, an occasional comic, wipes his pointer finger across the edge of his cake, his fingertip doused in icing. He waits carefully, watching his son turn and grab onto his mother before launching his attack, smearing the icing across his son’s cheek. It catches the boy off guard and his father quickly hides his hands behind his back when the boy turns, directing an accusing glare towards him.

Feigning expressions of shock and confusion, his father shakes his head profusely, refusing to accept his guilt. But when Megumi frowns, his father quickly gives in, admitting his guilt.

He crouches down, settling down to his son’s height and turns his cheek to the side, tilting his head back slightly. He points to the cake and taps his cheek.

It doesn’t take long for Megumi to put two and two together and quickly wipe his hand across his cake, and smear its remnants across his father’s open cheek, giggling.

Pretty soon, his mother joins in on the fun, smudging both father and son with icing across their faces before closing her eyes and submitting to their prickly fingers.

She shudders under their hold, fighting back a grimace and a chuckle as Megumi and his father blot icing across her face and somehow her shirt.

She opens her eyes, her gaze registering the sight of her husband and child before letting out a snigger.

Her laughter faded, as did the colours of faces, figures and smiles, as a picture fades. It features father, mother and child in arms together, stained in sugary delights but forever joyous with smiles as vivid as the sun. Their fondness, forever encapsulated in footage of Megumi’s fifth birthday.

#toji x black reader #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fanfiction #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #j

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago

Text

Camp III

Pernille Harder x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first time at Denmark camp

"Well, well, well," Stine says with a smile," Doesn't this little lady look delightful?"

Pernille rolls her eyes fondly as she grabs the bags from the car.

She feels uncharacteristically nervous stepping back into training. It's her first camp since your birth and you're still tiny, just learning how to explore the world around you and still communicating in babbles.

You don't look nervous at all but that's probably because you don't understand anything at all.

That's okay.

Pernille can be nervous enough for the both of you.

Stine reaches out to poke you in the cheek, finger stopping inches away before she retracts it.

"Sorry," She says," That's rude. Can I touch her?"

It's nice that Stine has asked. Some people don't ask and just touch you out of nowhere.

"You can hold her if you want. She's fairly docile."

You're moved from Pernille to Stine and you blink in confusion at the strange woman that now fills your gaze.

"Well, hello there," Stine coos," Aren't you pretty in your jersey?"

You'd been put in one of Pernille's old Denmark jerseys for the flight over to sleep in. It's Pernille's size so it's massive on you but it's nice and warm and smells just like her so you didn't have much of a problem sleeping in it.

"Yes, you are! Denmark's so much better than Sweden!"

Pernille laughs, pulling the suitcase inside. "Don't let Magda hear you say that."

"It's a good thing that Magda isn't here then. No doubt she'll be putting this beautiful little girl into some horrific yellow shirt."

"I've tried to stop her," Pernille says," But she just won't let it go."

"You should have kept her as just a Harder," Stine says with a laugh," Because the Eriksson genes are already out in full force. We don't want her to grow up to play for Sweden."

Pernille laughs too. "I'm sure we'll see her in a Denmark jersey at some point."

The staff have been very accommodating to your presence, Pernille notes. That had been one of her worries.

You were much too young for her to feel comfortable separating from you for the duration of camp, even if you would have only gone to her parent's house to be looked after.

Perhaps it was a bit of separation anxiety from her side but Pernille didn't want to leave you for a second.

The staff were fine with it, placing a travel cot in her room for you to sleep in as well as a few stray bath toys for you to use during bath time.

There's kid's cutlery and bowls and plates for Pernille to choose from even though you're still breastfeeding and have no need for it. There's formula too and a range of bottles and a steriliser should Pernille need it.

There's a nice little shady spot on the pitch set up with you, complete with a travel pen and a sensory mat and one of the staff members stays with you the entire time just so Pernille can fully focus on training.

You're a hit with the rest of the team though.

Everyone seems to want to hold you and talk to you and most days there's a line going out the door of Pernille's room in the morning.

Most people think you're just delightful in the morning in a big fluffy onesie and your wispy hair all messed up and sleep-mussed.

It's actually a big help to have someone coo and hold you outside while Pernille goes through her own morning routine.

She's learnt how to do it all one-handed now but it's still nice to be able to go through it without a babbling baby hanging off her arm.

"She can't eat cake?" Sanne asks as Pernille pushes away the plate.

"She's a baby," Pernille laughs as you, fairly aggressively, suck at the bottle in your mouth," She can't digest it yet."

"But we're celebrating your return! How can she celebrate if she can't eat cake?"

"She's got a bottle," Pernille says as you kick your little legs in happiness," That's enough for her."

"But it's cake! How could you deny her this?!"

"You're almost as dramatic as Magda. She literally can't eat it. Leave it a few months and we'll try again."

"But-"

You bat the bottle away from you, legs still kicking.

"Oh! Are you done?"

Pernille frowns, looking at the way the bottle is still half full. She presses it back against your lips but you refuse to open them.

"What's up with you today? Huh?" Pernille laughs a little at the disgruntled look on your face, a perfect mirror image to the one that appears so often on Magda's.

"Maybe," Sanne says," She wants some cake."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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zhongrin · 2 years ago

Text

“no, i’m not jealous.”

— he is, most definitely, jealous.

◇ characters ◇ zhongli (ft. platonic!childe), al haitham, ayato, cyno

◇ tags ◇ fluff, crack, (character) is so totally not jealous, okay? okay.

◇ a/n ◇ i wrote this at like 2am don’t @/ me-

bad summary of content utc: 1) rip childe. 2) legends say you can foretell your future by the shape of al haitham's pecs. 3) ayato vs taroumarou; who wins? the result might surprise you. 4) cyno just wants some cuddles someone save him.

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli, jealous? ridiculous.

zhongli is unyielding and self-assured. he was a revered archon, for celestia’s sake; he knows he’s wanted, and even now as a mortal he’s not foreign to the longing looks, stuttered words, and the blushes that rise to his fellow mortals’ cheeks whenever he speaks to them.

and you - you want him just as much, if not more; yet you’re different than the others in the way that you’ve successfully managed to carve a perfect little home in his heart and chose to stay there, much to his delight.

you’ve promised him your heart and the entirety of your life. he’s promised you happiness and his eternal love. you’ve been bound by the most sacred contract of all, the proofs of your vows to each other clearly wrapped onto your ring fingers.

so really, what would such petty, shallow emotion like jealousy serve?

“wow, you’re really good with your hands!”

“i’m not sure if being able to use chopsticks is a good measurement of one’s proficiency with their hands, but... thanks?”

“isn’t it harder to-” childe pauses to speak when you offer him a bite of sweet-and-sour pork and rice, gratefully takes the food, and hums in appreciation before continuing his words, “-feed others with a chops-”

“chew and swallow first; you’ll choke.”

the harbinger obediently obeys, but not before chirping a playful “okay mom/dad!” with his mouth full. you sigh and turn towards your abnormally silent lover, finding him barely picking at his own food.

“li? why aren’t you eating?”

“hm? i was just… thinking.”

“thinking,” you repeat with a fond roll of your eyes and a teasing grin on your lips, “when are you not? well, i’m sure you haven’t forgotten how to use chopsticks, so i don’t need to feed you, right?”

your husband’s lips part, as if he wanted to say something, but right at the same moment, you notice childe trying to pick up his rice, failing miserably with his horrible chopsticks control. as if on autopilot, you used your utensils to pick up the grains from his bowl into his mouth.

zhongli’s words fizzle on his tongue. the way you fuss over the brunette fuels the rumbling growls of the slumbering dragon which has been sleeping for eons, slowly baring its fangs inside his chest. gloved fingers wrap around his teacup a tad too tight, but alas, you fail to notice your brooding husband's silent fury.

he knows it’s just your instinct, to care for others and to cater to other people’s happiness. it’s one of the traits he adores from you. if anything, it looks more like a parent-child(e) relationship rather than that of lovers - besides, no personage living in liyue would think of you as the snezhnayan's significant other. that, he is confident of.

but do you really have to hand-feed a grown-up man - a fatui harbinger who almost leveled your whole nation onto the seabed at that - who was most definitely capable of feeding himself, and with your chopsticks nonetheless- wait.

before you can bring the two sticks anywhere near the plates containing childe’s food, your husband's hand gently pushes your chopsticks away. upon the questioning arch of your eyebrows, he opts for a patient and calm-sounding tone, “darling, please. eat. you haven’t touched your food for far too long.”

he then replaced your set of utensils with his own; the movement so smooth and natural you didn’t even notice, before turning to childe and scooping the extra spicy vegetable stir fry towards the brunette.

childe’s blue eyes widen in half shock and half embarrassment, and you nearly choke on your food at the comical sight.

“um-”

“eat.”

“a-ah, miss xiangling, can i have a spoo-”

“eat.”

no, he most definitely isn’t jealous.

“-who’s my prettiest boy? yes you are!”

“… what in teyvat are you doing?”

you blink innocently at your boyfriend, who had just woken up judging from the way his coat is still missing from his person, and momentarily your eyes flit downwards to appreciate the way his muscles look in his tight black bodysuit.

hmmm. ah, yes. you can see it from the way his abs look today. it is going to be a good day.

“hey,” a condescending snap of his fingers right in front of your face, and you glare at the smug expression on al haitham's face, “eyes up here.”

“i wasn’t looking at your pecs.”

“i never said anything like that.”

“not your manboobs either.”

“for the hundredth time, i do not have manboobs. and for the second time, i never said nor implied anything even remotely close to that.”

“well, i would like to inform you that i was not.”

al haitham gives you a knowing smirk and you huff in embarrassment, choosing to ignore him by looking away and refocusing on the tiny sprout (the actual plant, not that little adorable sprout on the top of his head), smiling and going back to the higher, loving pitch you used previously.

“i’m sorry baby, ignore mr. narcissist over there. now. you’re growing up so well! i can’t wait to see you grow taller and see the beautiful blooms you make! i just know my little pogchamp will-”

“what in lord kusanali’s name are you doing?”

“shut your damn mo- ahem!” you sigh and throw a pointed look at the scribe, “i am conducting a research, mind you. kindly fu- i mean- kindly ignore me and go prepare for your day.”

“enlighten me, then. what kind of research involves baby-talking to a plant?”

you roll your eyes and turn to address him properly, “ugh, fine, if you’re soooo curious, i’ll tell you. so, i read a research journal that testified something along the line of ‘speaking positive words, such as encouragements and praises to a plant, will aid its growth and make them bloom faster’. i’m trying to test that theory. now - this is veveh. i am going to tell him he’s a good, beautiful boy every day and praise him and sing for him. that one,” you point towards the plant at the far opposite side of the room near the windows, “is hawky. i’m going to tell him he’s a bast- the opposite of what veveh is. and we have [nickname] in our bathroom, which will be the control group. i’m going to give them all an equal amount of sunlight and water, and i have a journal and a kamera to regularly record the state of the plants. i plan to monitor them at least three times a day, and-”

“and who named these stupid plants?”

you gasp, scandalized, and swiftly move to cover veveh as if you’re covering a child’s ears from harmful words. which, in this case, the image isn’t far from the truth in your eyes.

“hey!! what did i say?! watch your words!! and it was kaveh’s idea!”

“of course it was,” the scholar sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you not my significant other? surely you’re smart enough to notice the implications behind the names and the assignments of the roles. why would you agree to make the plant named after me the specific sample that would have to suffer from derogatory words?”

“…”

“…… wait, haitham, are you jealous?”

al haitham blinks and looks at you as if you’ve told him that you’ve replaced him as the akademiya’s scribe and he’s been exiled from the akademiya because his performance is unsatisfactory.

“i never said anything like that.”

“awww, would you like me to tell you you’re a good boy too? want me to tell you how pretty and lovely you are? how you’re doing suuuuch a good job at work? oh, sweetums-”

“i will be leaving now, you’re creeping me out.”

you giggle uncontrollably and lean closer to the tiny plant, snickering and lowering your voice into a whisper as you watch your beloved running away in embarrassment finally leaving you to your own devices, “hey, veveh. your dad is adorable, isn’t he?”

. . . ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

veveh ends up flourishing and its first flower bloomed way ahead of the two, therefore concluding your research on a high note. however, the morning after you submit your first draft of your thesis, you find the plant missing.

instead, in its place is hawky. you also find your boyfriend sitting right beside it, reading his advanced quantum theories book outloud.

yes, your boyfriend is truly very adorable indeed.

ayato loves dogs, he really does.

he also does not condone animal abuse, and that principle is currently the only thread that’s preventing him from pushing the animal away from your lap. your lap, which should have been his pillow. his much-needed, much-deserved, comfiest pillow on teyvat that could make him fall asleep in minutes and is the only reason he would skip work.

“oh, darling, i thought you were busy?” you ask in surprise upon seeing his form standing by the door.

“i needed a break, i was getting a little stressed,” he says, walking towards your side to sit on the cushion, hoping you’ll catch on to what he’s implying with both his words and actions.

your eyes are shining as you regard him, and his heart jumps-

“good job, i’m happy you’re not overworking yourself, love.”

“... why, thank you.”

you nod and glance down as taroumaru twitches and whines in his sleep, crooning softly at the adorable sight of the animal’s twitching legs.

“i wonder what he’s dreaming about,” you giggle softly.

ayato doesn’t understand how you can make him feel as if he’s falling in love with you all over again, yet at the same time, you make him want to punch the nearest wall in frustration.

with a tired sigh, he flops his head onto your shoulder it should have been your lap darn it and he nuzzles into the fabric of your kimono like a cat that’s seeking attention. the sweet soft laugh escapes your lips once more and he waits.

….

.... your hands are still petting the dog.

this is ridiculous, he thinks. the mutt is asleep; surely you would turn your attention to your poor fiancé, right? surely you wouldn’t be so heartless as to ignore him when he’s seeking you out like this? surely you would pity his overworked self and grant him some comfort even just a little-

“you really don’t have any meetings?”

“…. no, i don’t,” he hums casually and adds an exaggerated yawn.

“i think you need a nap, ayato.”

one of your hands finally rests upon his cheek and caresses his skin lovingly. a content little smile stretches his lips, but it disappears when your touch retreats all too soon for his liking.

maybe he should consider having a ‘no pets allowed in kamisato estate’ rule.

the door suddenly slides open to reveal thoma, who took one good look at the two of you and being the ever so polite man that he is, immediately splutters an apology for interrupting what seemed to be an intimate, relaxing moment between lovers.

the yashiro commissioner seizes the chance.

“it's fine, thoma. you’re here to take taroumaru on a walk, yes?”

at the keyword, the canine’s ears flick and his beady eyes open.

“huh? no, i just-”

“wonderful! why don’t you take him on a long walk, i’d say he’s just itching for some exercise after napping for so long.”

“eh? um-” thoma freezes at the cold smile on the young master’s face and forces a laugh at your inquiring gaze, “-y-yeah! waka is completely right! c’mon boy, it’s time for your walk!”

with a happy bark, the dog leaps out from your lap and bounds towards the housekeeper, who gave the two of you a sheepish nod before sliding the door shut.

ayato hums in satisfaction and reclaims his throne. without him even needing to ask, your fingers settle onto his blue locks, blunt nails scratching his scalp. you bend down to place a loving peck on his forehead, your scent envelopes his senses, and he melts.

ah, the taste of victory is always sweet.

“just one more game!”

“but love-”

“just one more game, please please please please!”

cyno sighs, “you said the same thing three rounds ago.”

i’m tired, i want to cuddle you now, the general mahamatra tries to telepathically communicate right into your brain by staring at you with his soft and downturned vermillion eyes. alas, you are too focused on refining your tcg deck and testing it against the man and the legend himself.

“i swear this time it’ll really be the last!!”

being a rather new player that you are, you’re still clumsy in your actions and strategies, but he can sense you improving with every match you lost. the way you’re so passionate and fully throw yourself into the things you’re interested in never fails to bring a sense of pride into his heart, but seriously - even the most serious of men needs a cuddle every now and then. plus, you fit so well into his arms! can you blame him for being a little needy after a whole three hours of being denied any sort of affection despite the fact that you’re seated right across this stupid table??

you can’t and you shouldn't.

“you promise this will be the last round?”

“for today, yes!”

your boyfriend sighs and nods. yes, his need to cradle you in his arms is overwhelming. but when you look at him with eyes that shine brighter than the stars in the desert at night, how can he refuse? he’d give you a whole oasis if you asked for it. he can last just one more round of tcg.

... right?

cyno swears it has to be the longest match of his life.

you’re so cute when you’re thinking over your actions; eyes gazing upon your cards and his in contemplation as you mumble strategies under your breath. you’re so cute when you do a little cheer as the dice gods graced you with luck on your dice rolls. you’re so cute when you gasp in awe as he pulls a rather tricky maneuver that ruined your plans to attack his deck in this round.

archon kusanali give him strength, for you’re so cute and he wants a cuddle so badly.

“nooooooo,” you cry out in despair as he downs the last two of your characters at the same time with a well-timed elemental reaction, your body slumping against the table.

cyno can’t help but smile, although he does feel a bit bad from beating you yet again, so he decides to give you a little tip to hopefully cheer you up, “almost got me there. why don’t you try using a freeze team next time? you have the cards for it, and i think it'll suit your playstyle.”

at once, your head snaps up and you meet his gaze with determined eyes.

oh.

oh, he just dug a grave for himself didn’t he.

“[name]-”

“you’re right. let me- let me rebuild my deck, wait-”

“you promised-”

“i know, i know! just- fifteen minutes! give me fifteen minutes!!”

cyno wishes he could bang his head against the table, rattle his stupid brain and zip big mouth shut.

he just wants a cuddle.

why is it so hard to get a cuddle?

what’s a man gotta do these days for a cuddle??

cyno sees you staring at your character cards with your hand on your chin, clearly in deep thought. your boyfriend then opts to glare at his character cards, as if they were the ones who had stolen his cuddles, but a few seconds into that and he scoffs, looking away to the side as warmth rapidly bloomed across his cheeks.

seriously, what kind of man gets jealous of a card game?

but cuddles...

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #ayato #kamisato ayato #ayato x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #cyno #cyno x reader #rin writes

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pitchsidestories · 6 months ago

Text

the law of attraction II Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1880

a/n: hi, it's based off this lovely request here. On a different note, how adorable are Ingrid and Mapi in that gif ?! ❤️

“Here comes our little genius, girls.”, Mapi told her teammates proudly while you walked towards the injured defender. Their curious glances made your face turn hot.

“Maria, we’re the same height, so stop calling me little!”, you playfully rolled her eyes at her.

“Sure.”, she shook her head in amusement.

“Girls.”, Ingrid intervened smiling.

“Ingrid, hi.”, you greeted her, happy to see the Norwegian again.

“Hi. Nice to see you.”, the dark-haired woman responded, wrapping her arms around you for a hug.

“Great to see you too. Also watching you two at training is something different than Uni.”, you mumbled thankfully into her embrace.

The weight of the library books in your rucksack reminded you of what you’ve been doing the whole day. Spending too much time in front of your laptop without successfully coming closer to solving the mathematical issue you’ve been working on.

“She’s getting some distraction from a math problem.”, Mapi explained to the fellow footballers with a smug grin on her lips.

“Yes, maybe the distraction helps me to solve it later.”, you replied in a hopeful tone.

“Worth a try.”, Ingrid nodded.

“Exactly.”

“Such a smart ass.”, the tattooed Spaniard teased you.

“Maria.”, the Scandinavian scolded the older woman before she continued beaming at you, maybe we can all grab some food together after training?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea.”, you answered happily, you could really need a distraction and being in your friend’s apartment with Bagheera who loved to cuddle with you sounded delightful in your ears.

“Math nerd, it’s time for the beauties to get to work.”, Alexia reminded the three of you winking.

“I’m not keeping them from it.”, you pointed out laughing.

To her captain the defender said slightly annoyed:” Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.”

On their way to the training pitch, Marta remarked:” I mean you two have a personal supporter here so you should be motivated.”

“She's probably calculating some stuff in her head instead of watching.”, Mapi commented with a smirk.

Ingrid agreed: “As usual but she looks adorable while doing so.”

“Yeah, she does.”

Both of them watched on as you stared into space, too occupied with the equations in front of your inner eye.

Alexia shot her two teammates a suspicious look and teased: “One could almost think you two are in love with her.”

Mapi laughed nonchalantly: “Oh, please.”

“We're not.”, Ingrid protested, a pinkish hue appeared on her cheeks as she jogged off to warm up.

Alexia followed closely: “Just focus on training.”

“I am focused.”, Ingrid said.

The team captain looked over her shoulder at Mapi with a raised eyebrow: “I mean both of you.”

“Ale!”

She shrugged Mapis complaint away: “I just want to train.

Right after training, you found yourself at Mapis and Ingrids apartment. The takeaway you picked up on your way back filled the kitchen with a delicious smell of freshly cooked Thai food. You gathered around the kitchen table as Mapi started to set the table.

“You girls did so well.”, you remarked as you opened the styrofoam boxes, eyeing the food.

Mapi chuckled: “It was just a training session… or did you mean picking the food?”

“The food actually.”, you grinned, cheekily stealing a fork full.

“Of course, we're great at that.”, Mapi replied.

You started to spoon some food onto your plate and smiled: “Trainingwise, you both seemed a bit distracted.”

“Distracted?”, Ingrid echoed, almost dropping her fork in surprise.

“Yes.”

Her girlfriend swiftly changed the topic: “Tell us instead if there's someone distracting you from doing too much uni stuff.”

“No, no time for that. Besides you two do that already.”, you answered truthfully.

The norwegian blinked at you innocently: “We're not doing anything.”

“Right, we only invite you over for dinner or games.”, Mapi nodded.

“See?”, you only asked, the couple clearly already made the point for you.

Mapi gave you an unimpressed look and said around a mouthful of food: “You could just say no.”

“Yes, but I like going.”, you had to admit.

“And you can't work on your uni stuff all day round.”, Ingrid joined in.

“Exactly.”

You sighed. It was charming that they worried about you but in the end, you had chosen this career path and you loved what you did.

“It's kind of my job…”

“Yes, and we're so proud of you.”, Ingrid said, carefully reaching across the table to take your hand in hers.

You took a deep breath before confessing:” Thanks. It just gets lonely at times. Sometimes I want to have a relationship but then I again, I don’t think I would have time for that.”

“You know we’re always here for you, right?”, Mapi asked you in a cautiously tone.

You shot her a grateful glance: “I do, and I appreciate that.”

“You know, I think there might be a solution for this.”, the Spanish defender begun.

“You do?”, you lifted an eyebrow curiously at her.

Turning her head to face the Norwegian, Mapi continued:” I think Ingrid is thinking the same.”

“I am.”, her girlfriend nodded earnestly.

Confused you looked between the football players:” What are you talking about?”

“Tell her, Mapi.”, Ingrid urged the Spanish woman to keep talking.

“We could provide the relationship stuff for you while you focus on your studies.”, the defender suggested.

“Wait.. are you saying..? You must be joking.”, you responded, the surprise clearly written all over your face.

“No, we’re serios, y/n.”, Mapi reassured you.

“We both want to be with you.”, Ingrid emphasized the previous words of her girlfriend.

“I thought I was the only one with the crush.”, you replied still shocked by the offer of your friends.

“Oh dear, you might be very book smart, but..”, the defender smirked.

“But not when it comes to girls.”, the Norwegian ended the sentence of the older woman equally amused.

“The laws of attraction.”, Mapi hummed.

“That’s something they don’t teach in University.”, you answered, running one hand nervously through your open hair.

“No worries, we can teach you that like you taught me math at school all those years ago.”, the defender promised in a soothingly voice.

“I think I would like that.”, you declared smiling.

“So would be.”, Ingrid grinned satisfied.

“I can’t believe that.”, you giggled in disbelief.

“You better start believing.”, Mapi said.

“She’s a mathematician, she probably needs proof, Mapi.”, the dark-haired woman reminded the older player.

The Spanish defender mumbled:” Good point.” She was the first to kiss you, Ingrid followed swiftly. Both kisses tasted like the start of something new and exciting.

“What do you think? Enough proof?”, the Scandinavian midfielder gave you a challenging look.

“Yes, I think that was enough to make me believe that you were serious about this.”, you responded with a shy smile on your lips.

“That’s what we wanted to hear.”, Mapi commented beaming.

It took you some time to get used to a new relationship but a few weeks in, you could confirm that you felt happy and safe with your two girlfriends. So, of course you were a tiny bit sad when they left for the Champions League semifinal in London while you had to stay in Barcelona and work on your thesis… Or at least that was you told them.

Ingrid stood on the perfect green grass at Stamford Bridge right before warm-up. She watched the stadium slowly fill through a curtain of rain.

With a soft sigh, she said: “It's sad that y/n couldn't come with us to London, Mapi…”

“Maybe she can join us for the final if she isn't too busy.”, the injured defender shrugged.

“I mean it's in Spain which might make it easier for her.”

“That would be great.”, Mapi agreed.

A sudden grin appeared on Ingrids face as she pointed over towards the away fans. A red and blue flag had caught her attention. “Oh look, someone in the stands has the same flag as you, Mapi.”

As Mapi followed her gaze, Ingrids jaw dropped in shock: “Wait, is that y/n?”

From your place in the stands, you had no idea what your girlfriends said but the way their faces went from shock to lighting up with excitement told you everything you needed to know.

“There's no way!”, Mapi exclaimed.

“That little bi-…”, Ingrid started but was quickly interrupted by Marta who nodded in Vickys and Salmas direction. “Ingrid, not in front of the children!”

“Sorry.”, the Norwegian laughed before pulling Mapi with her towards the stands.

Laughing, you waved your Barcelona flag as they came to a stop in front of you: “Hi Ingrid, Mapi.”

“What are you doing here?!“, Mapi asked, leaning over to plant a kiss on your cheek.

You shrugged: “Surprising you girls.”

“You said you were too busy!”, Ingrid pouted.

“And I was busy but one of my fellow students reminded me that you only live once, so…” You gestured around the stadium with an innocent smile.

Mapi shook her head: “Why do you listen to them but not to us?”

“It's a scientific fact that we only have one life…”

She did not let you finish and instead rolled her eyes: “I can't with you nerd.”

“Me neither but I'm really glad you’re here.”, Ingrid smiled at you.

You grinned: “You're welcome.”

“You'll be our lucky charm.”, the defender winked and you could feel the blood rushing into your cheeks.

“Hope it works.”

Ingrid gave you a quick kiss: “See you after the match.”

“Have fun but win this.”, you called after her as she hurried away to warm up with the rest of the team.

Over her shoulder, she replied: “With Mapi and you we should be able to.”

“Ready, Mapi?”, you asked the Spanish defender smirking.

She took your hand in hers, replying confidently: ”Ready.”

“I can’t wait.”, you exclaimed as they started playing the hymn of the women’s champions league.

Despite the rain the team of your girlfriends were eager to win this and Mapi and you tried your best to support them from the stands. After the match ended in a 2:0 for Barcelona, your friend cheered:”Y/n, we won!”

“Ingrid was amazing, right?”, you wanted to know from her, your eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes, she was.”, Mapi grinned at you. Both of you were too caught up in your bliss, so you didn’t saw the Norwegian coming.

“Hey!”, she greeted you, mirroring your bright smiles.

“You were so great, Ingrid.”, you told her proudly.

“Thanks.”, Ingrid responded.

“We’re so proud of you.”, Mapi mumbled while wrapping her arms around the taller woman who lifted her up easily in their hug.

“You were amazing support.”, the younger player declared.

The Spanish defender who was pulling you into the group huddle announced with a cheeky grin:” That means you’ve to come to the final too.”

“I do?”, you questioned amused.

“Yes, absolutely, you can’t say no.”, Ingrid tuned in.

“I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

“We’ll count that as a yes.”, Mapi winked at you before kissing first the Norwegians cheek than yours.

And indeed, you were able to come to the Champions League final much to the happiness of your girlfriends. The law of attraction didn’t allow anything else. Love has won before any of the teams graced the pitch.

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #woso community #woso oneshot #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader

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