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eccentricallygothic · 2 years ago

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When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm.

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now.

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor.

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door.

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress.

Not that they would be doing any more of that.

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you.

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible.

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.

His eyes scan your form.

Beautiful.

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time.

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete.

It is the people that live in it.

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal.

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly.

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night.

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life.

You should have taken notice of the signs.

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem.

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was.

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence.

And Divine it was, you lived to learn.

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything.

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened?

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning.

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second.

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside.

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly.

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen.

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?"

He sighs.

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval.

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions."

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close.

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this.

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back.

The man is not chasing you like you expected.

But you don't want to stick around and find out why.

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door.

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead.

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes.

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused.

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying.

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently.

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one.

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet.

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home.

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands."

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that."

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet.

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone."

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours."

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery.

But you don't know when he does it.

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern.

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse.

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules.

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes.

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point.

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?"

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning.

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days.

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man.

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep.

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way.

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him.

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him.

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day.

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck.

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina.

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever.

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well.

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test.

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence.

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic.

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast.

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken.

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat.

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting.

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment.

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining.

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you.

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–"

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy.

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while.

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully.

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape.

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed.

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife.

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

What do you think hAH-

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softtdaisy · 5 days ago

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hiii ! I love your writing, you are very talented ❤️

Could I please request a dad!spencer fic where he and reader comfort their daughter after her first heartbreak?

heal the heartbreak / Spencer Reid

summary. when your daughter gets her first heartbreak, Spencer and you are here to remind her that love can be beautiful

words count. 2 241

what to expect. sweet, Spencer is super in love with reader. I chose to not name the daughter and I tried to make her ex as neutral as possible (you can tell me if I made any mistake!)

a/n. I'm sorry for the little wait on this one but I loved the idea a lot, dad!Spencer has my heart honestly I want a family with him too!! thank you for your kind words it means a lot to me 🫶

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

Spencer loved a routine.

For years, he didn’t even realize he needed one. He loved being a profiler; he loved working at the bureau. He loved knowing that every day would be a new one, a new experience, something new to experience and to remember—even if sometimes he wished he could forget some aspects of it.

Spencer's life was fine until the day he met you. With a job that was an overwhelming surprise every day, he realized how important it was to have a pillar to rely on. Someone to meet after work, someone he knew and that knew him. Someone that made him feel like his life had another meaning other than just being Dr. Spencer Reid.

You were that someone.

And for years you gave him that. The hug when he came home, the comfort discussion over dinner, the cuddle in bed. The phone call when he was away, the “I love you” text when he had to stay over at the office.

And then you gave him more.

A family.

Spencer couldn't help but smile at the picture on his desk. You, him, and your daughter were all laughing because he made a stupid dad joke in front of the photographer. That. That was all Spencer needed. The relief of knowing that no matter what happened at work, at the end of the day, he’ll have you both.

Even if your last text was quite…confusing.

“Code red. Can you bring ice cream from David’s friend? Love you x.”

Spencer stared at it for a minute. Whatever this code red meant—he would remember if you had chosen a code name for the situation, right?—he texted that friend to order everyone’s favorite ice icecream. He didn’t even need to give more info apart from that it was for you three. You had ice cream night anytime he would come on from a case that lasted multiple days.

Spencer couldn’t wait to know what the emergency was. So, he finished his file quicker—nothing too difficult for him. And ran to hand it to Hotch. Who was very much surprised to see his agent this early? “Already?” he asked.

“Well, we have a code red at home.”

“Code…red?”

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t know what it means either, but I have to pick up some ice cream before coming home.”

And Hotch’s face lit up. He wasn’t a stranger to this type of situation. And the look he gave Spencer was the expression of a dad who knew what a code red could mean. “Sounds like your daughter needs you. You can go.”

After a 20-minute trip and a visit to the shop where David’s friend told him, “Good luck”—why” does everyone seem to understand the situation except him?—Spencer was finally home.

And the least that can be said was that nothing screamed emergency. The TV was on, with your favorite rom-com playing, and you were in the kitchen making dinner. Humming a familiar melody that sounded like home.

“What does code red mean?” was the first thing Spencer said when he entered the kitchen.

It wasn’t until he spoke that he realized he could have scared you. But he didn’t.

The love you shared meant that you could feel him entering any room before hearing or seeing him. You knew the love of your life was here, and you welcomed him with a sweet smile.

“First, a kiss,” you asked. You noticed the confusion on Spencer’s face out of the corner of your eye. You bit your lips, trying not to laugh when he approached to give you the quickest kiss on the lips. Because there was one thing Spencer wasn’t laughing about.

Well, two.

You and your daughter.

And so when he wrapped his arm around your waist, something he did so casually that he didn’t question it, and put his head on your shoulder, he appreciated the moment for a second. Just one second when he thanked the universe that it brought you into his life.

But he didn’t waste another second. “What is going on?”

You turned down the tomato sauce before turning to face your husband. “Your daughter had her first heartbreak.”

You brought a hand to his chest and caressed it softly while he swallowed the whole situation. “Wait a minute.” Spencer finally said. “There was someone who could break her heart in the first place?” He had a little menacing tone in his voice, something you haven’t heard in a long time.

The caress turned into soft taps. “See,” you laughed softly, “this is the reason why you didn’t know about it.”

But you explained in the big lines that yes, your daughter had been seeing someone from her high school. Someone you didn’t know much about, so you couldn’t answer any of Spencer's questions. All you knew was that they were in the same class and same acting group. And that, apparently, it has been over since…a couple of hours now.

“What did she say?”

If you weren’t convinced already, Spencer’s worrying look was the last proof you needed to know this man was the love of your life. And the greatest father a child could hope for.

“That she was going to die alone, that all lovers are shit, but to tell Daddy that she loves him.”

Spencer’s cheek got pinker, and you couldn’t resist giving a small kiss on his nose. He was always so adorable any time you or your daughter would share your love for him. Like after so many years, he still doubted that you truly loved him.

When you would give your whole life just for his smile.

As an answer to your kiss, he put one on your forehead before asking, “Should we go see her?”

“I was waiting for you,” you replied, taking his hand.

You checked your sauce one last time before following Spencer to your daughter’s room. You watched as he took the lead, walking in front of you and knocking at her door with a melody that he created with her. It started when she was a kid, a way to protect her from his work and make sure she wouldn't open the door to anyone but you and him. You honestly thought the habit would die once she became a teenager, but there is nothing that can fight the link between these two.

And you weren’t surprised to see her open the door a few seconds after that. Nor were you when she immediately went into his arms and grabbed your hand to not make you feel sidelined. Yes, that was 100% Spencer Reid’s daughter, someone who would always make sure nobody felt rejected around her. Even when she was the one with a broken heart.

After a moment, Spencer took her little face in between his hands. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugged but still guided the both of you inside. When she sat on the rug, her back against the bed, you did the same. Each one by her side. And soon she had her head on Spencer’s shoulder and her hand still in yours—there was nothing like a hand massage from her mom.

“I hate love,” she mumbled. You and Spencer both looked at each other, knowing pretty well how it felt. You both went through some shit moments in your personal lives before meeting each other. “Why does it have to hurt? It sucks.”

Spencer felt it right in his heart. He remembered thinking something similar years ago. Probably when he was his age, more certainly later. He had never been a lucky teen with love. And most of his young adult life wasn’t successful when it came to relationships. Failed date, ghosting, difficulty dealing with his job and his partner… yes, it wasn’t as great as he wished it was.

But the difference with his daughter was that Spencer didn’t have anyone to complain to. He couldn’t talk about it with his mom, sadly. He didn’t have many friends back in school, and certainly some that he couldn’t trust with his feelings. And at the BAU…he was just being selfish. Most of them would have listened, for sure. But he imagined their reactions and provoked his own insecurities.

Spencer didn’t want your daughter to go through the same thing.

“You know,” he started, caressing her back softly. “Love is definitely not an easy game.”

“You’ll fall for people that won’t love you back. You’ll fall for people that will be unreachable. You’ll fall for people that you thought would never hurt you but will hurt the most. And you will probably believe that you can’t fall in love again more times than you can count.”

You couldn’t stop looking at Spencer while he said all this. Knowing most of these stories, remembering each thing he had told you. And his words echoing in your own memories.

“It will hurt, sweet pie. But it will be worth it, you know why?”

And if your daughter barely moved her head, just simply to look at Spencer, he moved his eyes to put them on yours. He gave you a look that lost your heart many years ago and still does every single day since.

“Because one day you’ll find the person made for your heart, and love will make perfect sense.”

You couldn’t contain the smile that grew on your face. And it became even harder when he gave you a smile back.

But the silence was short-term.

“Ugh, did you just make a love confession to Mom over my broken heart?” she complained. But she moved her head just a little to look at you. “No offense, Mom.”

“None taken,” you replied with a laugh. “But your dad is right. I can’t tell you how many times I was in the same position, crying after a breakup, thinking I could never get better.”

“But you have something that this idiot doesn’t.” You added, brushing some hair away from her face in a lovely mention.

And you met two confused faces: your daughter, who couldn’t see what she could have when she was only counting the pieces of her broken heart. And Spencer, who couldn’t see where you were headed to.

So you moved your face closer to her to whisper, still loud enough for Spencer to hear, “A dad, uncles, and aunts that can make a body disappear.”

And you knew you won when you heard her laugh.

“That’s not the FBI’s job!” Spencer replied, pretending to be shocked when it wasn’t the first time you actually mentioned this. That was probably the first thing Penelope said to your daughter when she was born. So it seemed logical to remind her that she had a whole support group ready for her.

“Oh, come on,” your daughter said, turning to her dad again. “You wouldn’t do that to me? Your daughter? Your sweet pie? The most precious thing in your life?”

You bit your lips at her reply, and you knew what Spencer’s look at you said. This is your fault. And you couldn’t blame him—it was indeed your fault.

“How about we stop discussing the whole murder thing?” Spencer suggested and brought the bag he had taken in the room in front of you two. “And start eating ice cream.”

More than the ice cream you had after rough cases, you had ice cream for dinner some time when it was necessary. It was something you started with Spencer when adult life was just too exhausting to follow the rules. And yes, you did get sick more than once after eating only ice cream. This explained why you still made dinner in case any of you three needed a real meal.

But tonight was a night where being an adult was too much. Your daughter had a brief view of what it looked like, and it seemed like it was too early for her—and Spencer could say it was definitely too early for her to be heartbroken.

So you each got your bowl with your favorite flavors and toppings, and you toasted with your spoons.

Soon you were reminded how much your daughter was a copy and paste of Spencer when she asked for his silly facts and stories about cases or…basically anything that was on his mind. You watched as they argued about some scientific things you couldn’t understand.

But mostly as she hugged her dad when she finished her bowl. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She gave you the same treatment before getting up and saying she needed to take a shower to “wash this whole day away.”

It was just the two of you sitting on the floor of your daughter’s bedroom—echoing some of the sleepless nights you had when she was little. “We did a great job,” you laughed, even if you meant it.

But when you turned your head, Spencer was looking at you. With no fun, no. With love.

“I love you,” he simply said before leaning in to kiss you. A sweet and short kiss that didn’t even last, but his hand on your neck did. Enough so you could say you love him back right against his lips.

“You know she’ll kill us if she knows we kiss in her room?” You also said, against his lips.

And this time, Spencer’s face was all fun.

And happiness.

Oh, how happy he was with his family.

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ophelieverse · 10 months ago

Note

if you are still taking requests I have one:Jace returning to Winterfell to reader,who is Cregan younger sister,to make the “song of ice and fire” become true after his mother told him😌please and thank you❤️

✩ ‧₊˚ and his will be the song of ice and fire

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

-Summary:during his first stay at Winterfell,Jace and Y/n got much closer than they should.Now,after knowing the prophecy about the song of ice and fire from his mother,Jace is determined to make it true with the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

-Warnings:spoilers of the last episode,reader is a Stark,Jace cheats of Baela(him and reader pull a Rhaegar and Lyanna)smutty time,asoiaf classic warnings.

•-thank you so much for requesting and let me know what you guys think,sending you lots of love

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On that night in early Winter,as a milky moon shines white above the hills,the snow falls soft to whitewash the gentle slopes and the houses in the valley of Winterfell.The air smells of the last breath of smoke blown out of a fireplace,ice,earth and wood.

It's late,and many lights are already off,but the fire of torches along the streets still shine.The tavern lanterns are also still lit,as are some fireplaces or oil lamps in homes.The world is immersed in the peaceful quiet of that cold night,which already brings with it the algid squeeze of winter now closer and closer.

In the secluded area of the cold godswood,in the gardens of the castle of Winterfell,silence envelopes the floral landscape like a lover embrace and Jacaerys worries that the unrequited sound of his beating heart could be heard throughout the whole realm.

The blood-red leaves in the branches of the weirdwood tree danced calmly in the breezy wind,the snow had stopped falling from the black sky leaving only the white stars to shine.The torches lights were too close and too bright,Jace eyes were hurting and his cold hands were trying to warm up in the ones of his future bride.

The young prince is really trying to focus on the soft words,the promises of eternal love and loyalty,of the Septon that works for House Stark.But they sounded so foreign to him,almost as if they were another language.It’s impossible for him to focus on anything else outside the fact that he’s really getting married.

During his life,Jacaerys has never knew well how weddings ceremonies actually worked,but he was pretty sure that this one,his,wasn’t what people would call a normal one.He has a vague memory of his mother second wedding,just the day after the worst night of his life,but he still could remember a loving couple becoming one in the heart and soul.Promising each other,in the house culture,love and devotion,eternal loyalty.

He also remembered the wedding of his uncle and aunt,Aegon and Helaena,in the big and bright Temple in King’s Landing.How two children spouted oaths that they didn’t believed in,framed by perfect swaths of red,green and yellow.Smiling faces of their families,proud to be reunited for such a joyful moment.Then the celebration after in the castle,the people dancing and laughing,the melodious music and singing,the delights of the night.

Meanwhile this wedding,his,was quiet and rushed.Reserved and in the dark shade of the forest.There are no wonderful colors for decorations,no smiling families members or friends,aside from Cregan who was chosen as a witness to the union,and Jacaerys is in the middle of an icy tundra of suffocating silence.

Y/n is standing in front of him,adorned in pure pearly white just like the snow at her feet.She wasn’t just beautiful,she was otherworldly and vaguely threatening.Bright eyes,rosy cheeks and red lips,hair falling in the wind,the smile of and enchanting enchantress and the nature of a young she wolf.Blue winter roses crowned on her head,she looked like a religious icon,someone people sacrificed themselves for.

Jacaerys had spent weeks with her during his stay in the North and he couldn’t forget her for days.He had engraved her name in the palm of his hands,the way she would laugh with him,the way she carried herself and looked at him,forever in his heart.It was impossible to not grow to love her,the beautiful lady was made of magic and stardust.

The logics and sermons,the words and phrases of the Septon weren’t the one to convince him to swear his allegiance and love,the way she held his hands and softly smiled at him driven deeper into his soul.Y/n had wrapped herself into his ribs,crawling right inside his heart,to keep him warm.

He was born for her and she was born for him.The ice and the fire,it was written in the destiny.

His mother words still echoed in his mind as he looked at Y/n.The song of ice and fire would be the product of their love,a son or a daughter that would have ruled and kept the realm together and safe.Someone who would inherit the blood of the old Valyria,the blood of the dragons and gods,fire and warmth from their father.And the blood of the first men,the old gods,the ice of the true north from their mother.

Y/n was his truth,Jacaerys was the dream,she was the ice and he was the fire.

She made him sick with desire,she always did since the moment he was first introduced to her.With the desire to have her,to possess her,to have her around him forever.And now he had the perfect opportunity,the perfect excuse for his betrayal to Baela and his mother who had betrothed them months ago.

Now he could still believe that he was a good person with a purpose,not only because of his own selfish dream to be with Y/n and to marry her just because her figure hunted his memory and his carnal needs.Because he was growing to love her and wanted to grow old with her.It was for the realm,he was repeating to himself over and over to shut down the guilt,and it would be what he would tell his mother and cousin when he and his new wife would go to Dragonstone after their wedding.For the realm,for the world and the Targaryen dynasty.

Jacaerys is dressed in pure black,trembling in his furry cloak,he’s trying to calm down his breathing that relies heavily through his nose in forms of little white clouds.Idly he wonders if this was a funeral ceremony instead of a wedding,but this was the best they could manage in such short time.

The young prince had came to Winterfell,flying on dragon back,with the last lights of the sun and everything was orchestrated in secrecy as fast as they could.The child that would be born from him and Y/n needed to be fully legitimate,he didn’t wanted to risk a bastard just like he was,not when the child wouldn’t have become the protector of the realm,the one from Aegon the Conqueror dream.

Y/n was promised to Lord Jason Lannister eldest son and Jacaerys was promised to his cousin Baela.Everything of this was the highest of treason but the war was already there and they couldn’t go back now.His mind couldn’t help but circling around and back to the empty and oddly depressing atmosphere around them.

Before them a old and solemn man was going through some chants about the gods witnessing the union and behind them a grand total of just two whole guest.Cregan stood there,wrapped around his cloak,still and silent like a statue,Vermax was a few feet away looking at the scene like he could understand what was going on.

«In the sight of the Seven,I hereby see you these two souls,binding them as one for eternity.Look upon one another and say the words.»the Septon words were spoken with decision under the torches fire.

Jacaerys swallows thickly and feels like he’s been choked by the cloak that now is heavier on his shoulders.A beads of sweats drips down on his forehead and make his hair stuck on his neck even in the cold air.He wants nothing more than loose his collar and breathe deeply.All that clothing is far too stiff and uncomfortable and he feels like a stranger in his own body.He has to tell himself,as he close his eyes,that this would be over sooner that he’ll realize.

His mouth feels dry as he wet his lips before speaking his vows«Father.Smith.Warrior.Mother.Maiden. Crone.Stranger.I am hers,and she is mine,from this day,till the end of my days.»his voice was firm as he held her hand tightly.

Y/n smiled at him,she tried to be brave just like he was.Her hands were shaking in his,her nerves had eaten her alive the whole night,from the moment she had put on her mother old dress,to this very moment.Now she couldn’t go back.

She really started to love Jacaerys,how could she not?He was so gentle with his words,so kind with the way he touched and looked at her,perfect in everything that he did.And the fact that him,such a beautiful and loving man,had chosen her as his wife and future mother of his children,was dream coming true.As a child,she often dreamed of becoming a princess and to marry a prince,just like the ones in her fairytales.

But now she would’ve had to be the future Queen in a kingdom divided in two,with a war that was screaming outside their door.Jacaerys seemed to read her mind,squeezing her hands lovingly and nodding his head to reassure her,in a way to tell her that she wasn’t alone and that they would be together in the bad and the good.

«Father.Smith.Warrior.Mother.Maiden.Crone.Stranger.I am his and he is mine,from this day,till the end of my days.»Y/n pronounced every single word softly without taking her eyes off her husband.

Maybe this was really a funeral because,as she spoke,Y/n realized that there was no turning back now,they would not be just a prince and lady anymore.When did everything became so complicated?She started to get melancholic as she started to register how much her life had changed in few seconds,that the best part of her new life was also the hardest.

Just a few weeks ago she was running around the godswood with Jacaerys as she was teaching him about the old gods and the legends in the north and now all of her dreams and ambitions were threatened by her husband family.A family that she was part of now.

They were supposed to change the world by bringing their child into it,but the world was about to change them and it certainly wasn’t a change for the better.The greens usurping the throne,prince Aemond killing prince Lucerys proves that.

Y/n head was hurting as she thought about that.And she couldn’t forget about the part where both her and Jacaerys were promised to other people.They would be viewed as traitors among his family,his uncle Daemon wouldn’t take the news kindly and he certainly wouldn’t congratulate them.Y/n father also didn’t knew about any of this and she still feared his reaction.

Regardless all of that,of having the world against them.Both Jacaerys and Y/n didn’t cared about all the venomous things people will say about them or the things that they would have to go through,because if they were given a second chance they would do it all over again.They were loving each other too much to let the other go.

«With this kiss I pledge my love.»Jacaerys said to her,moving his hand to caress carefully her freezing cheek.

His lips felt soft and surprisingly warm against her cold ones.And just like that they were officially married in the sight of the Seven and law.

There is no time for celebrations,no music and tables filled with joy,decorations and all sort of foods.Instead they found themselves in Y/n chambers,the one she grew up in,the one that saw her going from a little girl that played with her dolls to a married woman.

The sheets were changed clean,some fresh flowers were put to adorn the headboard and right on the small table at the center of the table there was wine and some fruits.Cregan had to be the one organizing the whole thing as a small gift.

Y/n takes off her cloak and picks up a small red berry.Jacaerys does the same,moving around the room quietly,he raised his eyes and caught her attention with a sweet smile,so tender and yet so seductive,his lips shiny and wet with a clear juice that slowly dripped down his chin.

«Let me help my wife.»his voice sounded more confident now that it was just the two of them and no one else.

The word,wife,made Y/n feel hot against her chest and down her legs.Standing behind her,Jacaerys wrapped her in his arms.She shuddered when she felt his lips on her neck and along her shoulder:she closed her eyes and abandoned herself against his chest,sighing.

«Jace,husband.»whispered the beautiful lady,her eyes closed and her head slightly tilted back.

«From our love will come the child that this world needs.»Jacaerys had said between the kisses«And I will take care of both of you.»he continued.

«You promise?»Y/n voice was just breathless whisper.

«Nothing will happen to you,»his hand crawled down her stomach leaving shivers on her clothed skin,only to stop at her lower belly.

«But…your family…your mother and uncle-»she tried,biting her lip when he started to suck gently behind her ear.

«Our family will understand.»he corrected her«My mother knows the truth and she will grow to love you just like I do,especially after we will make her a grandmother.»he reassured her sweetly.

A shiver flashed down her back and inflamed her loins.The young prince lowered her shoulder strap to discover her breasts and squeezed it slowly between his fingers,flaring in turn as he felt the nipple turged against his palm.

Y/n staggered,her heart throbbing,her breath shortness and her legs were already trembling but Jacaerys was quick to support her:he lifted her in his arms and took her to the thalamus,on which he gently laid her,a splendid candid flower that seemed to fill that place of shadow with light and of which it was impossible for him to do without.

«My beautiful princess,my beautiful wife.»he murmured against her lips kneeling above her,her eyes shiny,her face turned on despite the pallor.

Y/n took his head in her hands,dipped her fingers between his long curly black hair like a crow's wing;she felt his whole body quiver himing,his heart beating fiercely,and like every time he made her understand that he wanted her,a glance was enough for her to make sure of his devotion:she beat her eyelashes darkening the beautiful irises for a moment,licking her lips;she barely curved them,aware that that gesture drove him crazy,she slowly pulled a flap of the dress to herself by uncovering one leg and flexed it,letting the toe of her foot slide down his thigh,continuing to look at him intensely.

Below the fabric of his pants,Jacaerys felt the delicacy and sensuality of her touch.The tremor of excitement that attacked him was violent, lightning-fast:he stared at her for a moment and couldn't resist any longer.He impatiently freed her from the gown leaving her naked and just as quickly he undressed himself,the look that ran longingly on every corner of her body,unable to give up admiring her as the first time and like every time.

«I’m yours.»Jacaerys promised her,whispering against her lips«Nothing will ever take me away from you.»he kissed her sweetly.

She whimpered and her heart started to beat faster«I’m yours.»she repeated.

He sank with his nose and mouth between the curves of her chest,grabbed her soft hips,stroked her thighs and bottom.Y/n flared all up as she felt his lips pop greedily on her breasts,squeezing volupously around one of his nipples as he brushed it with his tongue and teased the other with his thumb.Pervaded with chills,she widened her legs and clawed her fingers on the sheets;she lifted her pelvis sighing,longing for it anxiously.

The pleasure exploded when he began to draw with the arabesque index finger in the center of her body:she moaned,her breasts shaken by palpitations,her nipples turgid and sore from the pleasure of kisses and caresses,the groin and lower abdomen on fire.

Jacaerys stretched out on her,wrapped her every horizon in darkness:all her muscles were pulsing, the heartbeat that became gradually more frenetic from the burning need to love her,to get drunk on her.He looked at her again he could never have satiated himself to admire her beautiful face - and as soon as she returned his gaze,sweet and sensual every time more,the voluptuousness clouded his mind.

He sank between her thighs,tearing a lament from her that he suffocated with his lips;he clinged her tightly in his arms and kissed her with trepidation,proud and passionate as he pushed himself into her.Y/n clung to his shoulders pressing against his chest with her breasts and belly,her thighs squeezed to his hips:she felt like screaming again, but her tongue danced unbridled in her mouth,the movement of the hips energetic against her,providing her with each push a pang of intense,deep,absolute enjoyment.

The prince hands ran over her body with ardor,she felt his fingers demanding and sweet at the same time on the flesh,in the throes of estasy,she could do nothing but indulge in passion,following the fast pace with which he was moving inside,shadow inside the light,light wrapped in shadow.

«Jace,oh my gods!»Y/n had breathed closing her eyes and pulling the hair at the nape of his neck.

Going crazy with pleasure to hear his bride enjoy,Jacaerys pushed with greater vigor,eager to increase her enjoyment to a great demour,excited by her moans and delighted by the fervor with which she clenched herself by scratching his back with her nails.

«Y/n,oh my sweet little wife.»he groaned against her her,sweat covering his forehead.

He loved her,impetuously and madly,letting himself be stunned by her sighs,her heartbeats,her scent,similar to a flower that spreads his fragrance moved by the north wind caress.

Y/n quivered below him,the breast prey to his incessant caresses,the mouth half of his insatiable kisses;she felt his love to pierce her with tenacity,the pleasure to become more and more powerful and intoxicating and when she reached her peak she screamed,overwhelmed by the intensity of that embrace:this time Jacaerys did not hold back her scream and in turn could not hold back a moan as he made sure to release inside of her.

Appealing to the last forces Jacaerys had left,he bent down to kiss her and finally overturned at her side,panting.Exhausted,Y/n abandoned herself against the bed,her long hair spread in waves on her pillows.

Jace hurried to cover her with the sheet so that she wouldn't get cold and smiled at her,as soon as he felt her fingers touch his cheek.For a moment he stood to contemplate her eyes,her lips,her smile...she was even more beautiful,after love.

«Y/n,»he whispered as he came back to hold her tenderly to himself«I love you.»

She sought shelter in his arms,fulfilled and satiated with strong emotions but still eager for him.She placed her head on his chest and let his caress her hair«I love you too Jace.»she answered.

He smiled,placing a hand on her warm and sweaty skin of her lower belly where he hope a new life would start to grow soon«I promise you,our child will change the world.»he whispered.

They fell asleep together,ice and fire united.And the next day they would still be like this,in each other's arms,bound by passion,seduced by love.Creating a new life together that would have changed everything.

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mylovesstuffs · 2 months ago

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OT13 celebrating women’s day with their s/o

Request: Ot13 celebrating women's day? ❤️

A/N #1: Probably got this request yesterday, so what better day to post it and push back the other requests than today? Lol

A/N# 2: To all the amazing women in the world, including myself—thank you for being strong, kind, and inspiring. We see you, we appreciate you, and we celebrate you, today and every day

A/N# 3: Was kinda confused if the anon wanted to see them celebrate it in general or along with their s/o—went with the latter...but if you want to see the other one, feel free to ping me

The “It’s YOUR Day, You’re the Queen” Boyfriends

Seungcheol: Wakes you up with a kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Happy Women’s Day, my love.” Takes care of everything so you can relax, from cooking to chores to running errands, you name it.

Jeonghan: “It’s Women’s Day? Oh, so basically…you get anything you want.” Absolutely spoils you, like buying you your favorite foods, gifts, or even books (or anything you like) just because.

Joshua: Buys you flowers, writes you a love letter, and takes you on a romantic dinner date. Tells you how grateful he is to have such a strong, beautiful, and kind woman in his life.

Mingyu: Cooks you a fancy meal and makes homemade dessert because “you deserve the best.” WILL NOT let you lift a finger today. Showers you with compliments non-stop.

The ‘Hypes You Up Like You Deserve’ Boyfriends

Hoshi: Gets you so hyped up it’s like your birthday. Takes you on a fun date and keeps repeating, “You are the strongest, most beautiful person in the world.”

Dokyeom: Spends the whole day making you laugh and smile (as always). Brings you flowers, chocolates, and a handwritten note that says, “You are strong, kind, and beautiful, and I’m the luckiest to love you.” 🥺

Seungkwan: Posts a long, emotional Instagram story about how amazing you are. Literally cheers for you throughout the day: “YES, QUEEN!! SLAY!!”

Vernon: Sends you the playlist he made just for you called ‘For the Best Woman Ever’ and tells you, “The world is lucky to have you.” [ngl, Vernon has always been very respectful to women. re: that melona prison interview about his ideal girlfriend (or something along that line)]

The Thoughtful Boyfriends

Jun: Writes you a poem (even if it’s cheesy) and surprises you with your favorite snack or drink. Just wants to see you smile.

Wonwoo: Leaves little notes everywhere with sweet messages like “You inspire me every day.” Holds your hand a little tighter today and reminds you every second that he loves you.

Woozi: Composes a tiny melody just for you or sends you a text saying, “I don’t say it often, but you are amazing, and I admire you.”

Minghao: Buys you something meaningful, like a book by a strong female author or a piece of art. Tells you, “Every day is Women’s Day with you.”

Dino: Super sincere. Says, “You deserve to be appreciated every day, not just today.” Hugs you a little longer and reminds you how much he loves you.

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hotheadedhero · 9 months ago

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First Date

'Like 'em Big Series'

AN: Wow, wow, WOW! You guys went haywire for 'Like 'em Big', didn't ya? I have yet again been surprised at the popularity of something that started as a joke. Thank you all for your patience and showing the love, it really warms my heart as always 🙏 Without further ado, here's part two ❤️(I'd also like to preface that I haven't been on a first date in years, so I apologise :'])

Part 1

All characters are aged up

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of ROTTMNT Movie, near peril (again), meddlesome brothers, cute idiots being cute

Returning home after the mind-boggling excursion you endured had tired you out to the point of near collapse. Yet, you couldn’t sleep after everything that happened. Your mind was racing. Not because you were nearly eaten. Not because you had met a giant turtle. Not even because you found that same turtle adorably attractive. No. It’s because you were fool-hardy enough to give him your number and after you embarrassingly called him beautiful, no less. More often than not, your overzealousness has been your downfall and you wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case here.

Universal blessings had other things in mind. The beacons lit, your prayers answered, and hope restored before your weary brain has a chance to sink - a text - and the chime of that first notification is a sweet melody indeed. All of that karmic debt seems to have been paid off. About time. Again, you won’t get too ahead of yourself but this is already a good start. And, so entails days of messaging, sneaking texts on work shifts, leg-kicking with the gushy motions, and downright losing your mind over how sweet this guy is.

As for Raph, this is uncharted territory; a piece of ocean he never dreamed he’d sail because he never thought it would be accessible to someone like him. He finds himself terrified of the mornings, worried that you’ll wake up with your senses and realise who - what - you’re talking to. Such concerns immediately disappear when he opens his phone to see a routine ‘Good morning’ paired with a heart or kiss.

During this time of exchanging pleasantries, he has been falling ever so gracefully for the character that makes up your person. He’s amazed by how bold you are in your messages during the times he shies away out of fear. It’s probably no surprise that a gorgeous lady such as yourself has at least some experience in the field, which makes him all the more nervous. Meanwhile, he’s working with two left feet and terrible advice from his family. Try as they may, he knows better than to listen to them where these things are concerned. The only one who has had experience is their dad and they all know how things turned out with Big Mama.

Raph reckons he’ll take his chances. If your texting is anything to go off of, he likes to think he’s doing pretty well for himself. That hasn’t stopped his brothers from meddling, however. He expected Leo to poke his nose where he shouldn’t but he didn’t anticipate all of them getting involved. Even now, they’re desperately trying to clammer onto him in an attempt to get his phone. He has the advantage of being much taller than them but, of course, Donatello is resourceful and snatches it with one of his robotic limbs before throwing it to the youngest of the four. Lousy cheater.

The unspoken rules of the game are the least of his worries when Mikey quickly messages you. He drops the phone as Raphael lunges for him and retrieves it before it hits the ground. Then he sees the extent of the damage dealt by his sibling: he’s asked you out on a date tonight. No no no! The large turtle is mortified! Sure, he’d considered the same proposal for a couple of days now but he wasn’t sure if it was too soon. This is going to make him look like a fool! He’s finished. You’re going to read it and you’re going to ignore it and he’s going to be ruined.

The receipt goes to ‘read’ and, surely, that to be the end of it until he sees you’re formulating a response. He bores holes into his screen. The taunting three-dotted line rises and falls and each second has him in the sweats. His brothers’ heads comically peak past his shell, each invested, placing bets on what your answer is going to be. Whoever had put their money down for a positive result is just that little bit richer. Three words. Three little words that would turn out to be Raphael’s salvation: ‘I’d love to! X’.

The joyous uplift of deliverance soon flees when it truly sinks in. You’ve agreed to go on a date with him. A date. With him. He’s going on a date. With you. Where will he take you? What will you both do? What is he going to wear? He’s desperate enough to call on his brothers’ aid for any input they can provide. After all, he can’t deny that their antics have led to this. Listen, these guys have all watched how much of an impact this has had on him. Sure, they’ll poke their fun but it’s genuinely warming to see their big lug of a brother with that dorky grin on his face.

After a quick montage of his family hyping him up, going through outfits, and detailing the do’s and don’t’s, he’s finally ready. You both decide to meet on the roof of your apartment complex seeing as the sun will still be out. He double, triple, and quadruple-checks the location on his phone just in case he’s managed to pick the wrong one. As he’s about to check a fifth time, the little door to the side opens and out comes you in an even cuter outfit than the one worn on your first meeting. You, too, are in awe of what stands before you, having not expected him to go through the effort of dressing up at all. It’s nothing striking but it lights up all the parts of your objective brain that make you the size-hungry gremlin you are: a grey, sleeveless hoodie that shows off his arms very nicely.

Sitting on the roof and people-watching seems to be a good enough pass time until it gets dark. Raphael’s legs hang over the side whilst yours lay to the side of you. He should have made a note of things to talk about. You’ve both already covered basic information over the phone alongside the odd funny video here and there but he’s completely blank now. Crap. He can feel the sweats coming on.

“So, hey,” he hears your voice suddenly, “what’s the highest up you reckon you’ve ever been?”

He knows the answer to that but it’s not an instance he much likes to think about. It would have been during the Kraang invasion years back when he and his brothers plummeted from heights of the sky no person should outside of a plane. That will be a story he keeps to himself. Too deep. He doesn’t want to dampen the mood.

His brain wracks itself for something else and he says the first thing that comes to mind, “Uh… well, there was the time me and my brothers zip-lined from one building and into a roof pool.”

“No way! That sounds like so much fun!”

The elated look in your eyes makes him smile and his chest inflates with pride. “Yeah, it was! Our friend April even got it on video.”

“Do you have it?” you ask eagerly. “I’d love to see.”

That’s when you scoot closer to him to the point that your arms are brushing. Do you want to see it that badly? Yes. Was this an excuse to get close? You will die at your doorstep before you admit to anything without a lawyer. He sucks his lips in at the contact and looks down at your sparkling face before fumbling for his phone. He’s almost certain he has it somewhere.

As you’re both watching the video, three sets of eyes have their sights on you. Three pairs of eyes belonging to three incredibly nosy brothers. They’re stood on one of the buildings behind you two, a few floors higher for a good view.

“So, how come we’re spying on Raph and his date?” the one in orange asks keenly.

“Listen, we all know that Raph chokes under pressure and we’re just here to make sure things go smoothly,” the blue-banded turtle responds with a hand to his chest. The other hand grips onto a tarp that seems to be shielding a box. “And I have just the thing to get some romance going.”

Beneath the blanket, Leo unveils a cage of doves all more than ready to be set free. Where, when, and how he managed to get these birds is a mystery but life is full of those. Best not to question his eccentricities. He quietly whispers, “Fly, my pretties,” before turning the latch and throwing a flurry of birdseed in the unsuspecting couple’s direction.

Large brows furrow above concern. “Aren’t they a little too close to the edge?”

Ah. That might be problematic.

“Oh my gosh,” you laugh, “I think I would have a heart attack zipping along something like that.”

“It’s really not so bad when you get used to it,” Raph chuckles reassuringly.

“Pft! You’re a lot braver than me.”

You both smile at each other as he puts his phone away. He doesn’t believe that for a second. You were brave enough to give him your number after all. He’s about to say something else when a series of aggressive flaps and coos break him of whatever thought he had. Following, a flock of doves barrages into the two of you. Luckily, he’s a sturdy pillar but the same can’t be said for you. A shrill scream breaks past your lips as you tip over the ledge. There’s a short moment when all that surrounds you is air. Nothing but air and the impending dread of what sits below. You were only joking when you said about dying on your doorstep.

Just as your eyes clench shut in preparation, the breath in your lungs gets knocked out of you when a force catches and cradles you by your gut. This strong force lifts you up and you’re met with an even stronger chest. You slowly take a look up at your saviour and he’s got you in a tight lock against his body. His other hand is clasped onto the roof ledge and he breathes heavily. Raphael swallows hard. That was close. Way too close for comfort.

Not wanting to dawdle over the long drop for much longer, he hoists himself back onto the roof with you in his clutch. The threat of falling diminished. The threat of falling in other ways climbs higher from your stomach. Oh lordy, you’re getting the vapours. As he gently eases you back on your feet, you look up at him with wide eyes.

“I think,” you breathe out, in again to recollect yourself, “maybe, we continue this on the ground.”

“Agreed.”

Thankfully, it’s dark enough that he should be able to waltz around in the public eye without it being too bothersome. From a neighbouring rooftop, there’s a rushed scurry but when he looks, nothing appears to be there. Must have been more of those doves or something. That still begs the question of where they came from but he’ll try not to worry about it.

So, a little bit of a rocky start but it doesn’t appear to have shaken your spirit. You’re a little jittery from the adrenaline, perhaps. That and being in his arms for that short moment made you realise what you’ve been missing out on all this time. You need to get a hold of yourself, woman. For the sake of not ruining this, get a hold of yourself. The slight tremble in your fingertips doesn’t go unnoticed. Luckily, Raph has just the remedy.

He walks you to a park, quiet from day nearing its end, lit up with the gentle hug of streetlamps dotted along the pathways. The setting itself is already enough to coax you back into a level head but curiosity peaks when the mutant urges you to sit on a bench. He asks that you close your eyes before dashing off. Just what is he planning? You’re tempted to take a peak but, respectively, you sit and patiently wait. When he returns, you open your eyes to see him standing in front of you, three hot dogs in one hand, two sodas in the other.

“It ain’t much but I figured it’ll help,” he admits bashfully. “‘Specially some sugar.”

You blink up at him and shrink down with a shy bat of your lashes. “Thank you.”

Your lips spread into a mile-wide smile as you take the food and drink from him. He sits down beside you and you happily dig in. There must have been a food stand that you had walked past without noticing, yet he noticed. He’s also noticed how greedy it must look for him to have two hot dogs.

Suddenly conscious of the fact, he clears his throat awkwardly, “I hope it’s okay I got two for myself.”

“Hm?” You look up at him with a mouthful and swallow. “Oh! Have as many as you like.” Your nose scrunches up as you wave him off. “The other night I had about five to myself. Not even with the buns either.”

You laugh at yourself as you take another bite. It sounds like a bizarre way to eat them outside of their intended purpose but when Mother Nature calls, there’s no point in questioning it. Besides, the best part of a hot dog is the Frankfurter. Why waste stomach space on all of that bread? You shrug it off casually but the tall turtle’s attention remains on you as he rallies something up in his head.

“How do you feel about salami?”

The way he asks is gentle, not interrogative but carefully interested with a harboured hope. What an adorable query. You can’t say you have any strong opinions about it but if it’s there in front of you, you know you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. There’s a glimmer in his stare as he awaits your answer and it takes a lot for you to not grin like an idiot.

You glance side to side, pretending to be shifty-like and lean in towards him whilst cupping your mouth. “Once, I ate an entire pack of assorted pepperoni and salamis in one sitting.”

Raph’s eyes sparkle, almost forming into hearts. He doesn’t register how he replies, going purely on automatic as his head wanders off into la la land. His free hand grips onto the side of the bench and he can feel his heart palpitate with a swarm of warmth. Has he just found his soulmate? Is it too soon to think something like that? Does it matter? He’s not too sure he cares now. Those rose-tinted glasses are his new contact lenses and he’s never taking them out.

A few trees over, the eclectic triad of trouble is back at it again trying to formulate their next plan in the ‘Romance for Raph’ operative. Donatello tinkers with something as the other two watch their brother. They have no idea what you said as you leaned into him but it must have been something mind-altering from the way he’s staring off with stars in his eyes.

“Hurry up with that thing, Dee! I wanna hear what they’re talking about.”

“You can’t rush good work,” he states, though he holds up the complete product no more than a second later. “But yes, you may now marvel at my new masterpiece.”

It’s a dinky-looking drone, fitted with the best mic system and soundless heli-propellers this turtle genius can build, small enough that it should be able to soar around unnoticed. Leo and Mikey tussle over who gets to fly the device first, each pulling on the remote control. During their scuffle, they hit a button and it quietly thrums to life. Before Donnie can intervene, the little drone is already flying around in seemingly no point of direction until it nose-dives towards them and crashes into the tree trunk. The entire tree shakes so much that a flurry of birds dart off and head for yourself and Raph.

They sore overhead with such ferocity that you both flail your arms up to cover your heads. Unfortunately, the soda in Raphael’s hand flies up into the air with the abrupt action. It falls onto the pathway but not before spritzing his hands with the fizzy liquid. Great. Now his hands are going to be uncomfortably sticky. What is the darn deal with these birds today? Alfred Hitchcock might have been onto something. The vermin of the sky turns into an afterthought when you spot your date looking over his fingers with a wrinkled frown.

Glancing around the park, you suddenly jump up onto your feet with an idea. You gesture for him to follow after you and lead him to a nearby lake. It’s the only way you could think for him to wash away the sugary beverage. As he gets on his knees and dips his hands in, you opt to stand and keep an eye out for any more winged miscreants. Figuring the coast is clear, you go back to facing the lake with your hands behind your back.

“It sure looks pretty,” you remark quietly.

Not initially knowing what you’re talking about, Raphael glances up at you. He then follows your gaze back to the lake, taking his hands out to shake them dry. The water ripples from the movement but when it settles, he thinks he understands what you’re talking about. Starlight is often hard to come by in a city such as New York but it seems they have blessed you both with their presence. They twinkle delicately, reflecting off the water and it looks as though they’re dancing, like fireflies in the calm of night. Pretty indeed. He can’t remember the last time he sat back and appreciated something like this if ever he has.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he hears you again, quieter this time, “what made you ask me out on this date?”

His face and the entirety of his body warms. He hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like that but he supposes you would’ve asked sooner or later. It’s only fair that you’d be curious. The palms of his hands press into his knees as he sits on his feet.

“My brothers kinda had a hand in that. I’d been thinking about doin’ it before that, though!” he quickly rectifies just in case you thought this was completely his family’s doing but you giggle. He chuckles nervously and lowers his sights. “You just seem like someone I’d wanna get to know. Why’d you give me your number?”

“You saved my life that day,” you say as if it’s obvious. He narrows his eyes at you playfully and you figured he’d eventually realise that there’s more to it than that. “Okay, so, maybe there were other reasons.”

This is where your throat fails you and instead of talking, you attempt to motion with your hands. You hold them parallel to one another and map out the air in front of you sideways. Then, you make the same movement but vertically, one hand rising as the other lowers. He isn’t sure what you’re insinuating at first but it soon clicks. Are you referring to his stature? The thing that people usually fear? Nah. Surely not. That’s when it dawns on him. There was a word - one particular word that night which threw him off guard; a word he thought he had imagined but this just about confirms its existence.

With a newfound confidence, he sits up straight and raises a brow at you. “You think I’m beautiful?”

A brash heat burdens your cheeks as they puff out. You’ve certainly dug your grave on this one. How do you even answer? That probably isn’t an issue. Your reaction must be answer enough. With a blown-out breath, you swivel on your feet away from him, not knowing how to verbally respond. Just as you turn, a pebble hits you square on the forehead and knocks you back into the lake. It makes for a mighty splash but an incredibly discomfiting feeling around your body. Your head shoots up with a gasp and you hold your upper body with your hands in the sickly, cold mud, squelching between your fingers like wet clay. If birds had apposable thumbs, you would assume this was their doing considering how the night has gone.

Raphael shoots up to his feet and extends a hand to you, much like how he did when you first met. His face is laced with the same amount of concern as that day. Less hesitant than that instance, you immediately reach out and his fingers engulf your hand just as they did before. He hoists you up onto your feet, looking over you worriedly. You’re soaked head to toe.

What he doesn’t expect is to hear you laugh, “Deja vu?”

His head cranes to the side but he finds himself smiling sadly when you continue to laugh. An unshakable spirit; that’s something he’s quickly realising you have and it’s admirable, to say the least. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for your body. You hug yourself and shiver, teeth almost chattering. Even summer nights can nip at the skin when drenched in freezing lake water.

In his haste to find a solution, he enacts the first thing that comes to mind without thinking of asking on your behalf. He quickly slips his hoodie off and holds it out to you. It’s probably a little counterproductive since it won’t dry you but it should hopefully shield you from the cold. Just enough to last you the walk home. You bite your tongue as you gratefully take the garment and slip it on. In a generalised state of mind, this is every girl’s dream right here. Your dream. It sits over you in all of its oversized glory like a great big hug. Perfect. It’s a shame to be calling the night to an end here but you both know you won’t be able to completely enjoy yourself with a dripping head.

Those same three figures dash off into the shadows, one sorely guilty for causing such a catastrophe. All Michelangelo had intended to do was throw that rock at Raph to gain his attention. It had a note stuck to it with some cute lines he could have said to you. The last thing he wanted was for it to smack you dead in the face and topple you over. He swears his aim isn’t usually that bad, hence he’ll blame the note for messing with the air dynamics or whatever Donnie called it.

As yourself and Raph journey back to your apartment, he finds himself in a bit of a funk. He tries to keep his enthusiasms up for the remaining minutes you have together but there were a fair share of disasters this evening. Not how he envisioned things panning out. He walks you up to your front door but lingers in the middle. You stop, too, and stride down one, meeting him head-level.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

"Sorry," he sighs as he sits on one of the steps. "This has got to have been the worst first date ever."

His whole body slumps and he hangs his head low in shame, arms resting atop his thighs with his hands dangling limp between his legs. This feeling just can’t seem to shake. There were so many mishaps: you falling off the roof, soda spilling over himself, and to top it all off, you got yourself a nasty bath in muddy water. He wouldn’t blame you if you took his presence as a bad omen. Disaster does seem to follow him and his brothers wherever they go. His eyes suddenly open wide and stare at the floor when he feels a soft cushion of skin against his cheek.

"Actually, it's the best first date I've ever been on," you say and he'd see a large smile on your face had he the strength to look. Removing the hoodie, you hang it over his arm and giggle, "I mean, I might have a fear of birds now but I’ve had a really lovely time. I look forward to the second one."

You peck his cheek once more before slipping off into your apartment, leaving him to sit with eyes like saucers and rosy cheeks. He supposes it wasn’t all bad. There was a lot of laughter. You two found a lot in common with one another and once you got talking, the conversation was easy. There weren’t many cases where he caved under the pressures of those ‘first date’ nerves. He felt comfortable. Really comfortable, in fact.

Raph blinks down at the hoodie and holds it up to his face. It’s a little damp but the scent of your perfume lingers on the fabric. It smells nice and he hopes he isn’t creepy for being happy about having this until you next see each other. His face hurts from all of this smiling, achy and strained. Painful but a good pain, nonetheless. An experience so new to him. He doesn’t know what to do. His body is running on highs it’s never known before. The burley mutant stands to his feet, hoodie in hand, and does the only thing he can think to do: he dances, blissfully unaware of the three sets of eyes watching from a building across the street.

"Oh, god, he's doing his victory dance right outside her apartment. Can't he save it till later? He's gonna make a fool of himself."

"Aw, but look how happy he is!"

"Indeed. I would say this is a big win for our illustrious leader."

"Hey, don't forget about our win. None of this would have happened without us and that deserves a pizza reward. Am I right, guys?"

The other two nod and mumble in agreement. It’s probably best that they flee the scene before they’re spotted, anyway. They’ll be excited to hear about their brother’s ventures when he returns and, of course, they’ll act as if they haven’t witnessed every moment of it. Take it to the grave, boys. Take it to the grave.

_________________________

I kinda love how the first part of this story was written during a fever and I had to wait until I was ill again to finish this part. Also, have to mention... the comments people!!! You ravenous animals are as crazy as me, I love it. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading these comments and I just had to include some of them here

You are my people and I love all of you so much <3

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the turtles #rise raphael #rise raph #raphael #raph #tmnt x reader #rottmnt raph #raph tmnt #x reader #x female reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 3 months ago

Text

Time to bloom

Written for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Spring and Mutual Pining

Rated: T

Words: 2,348 [also on AO3]

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Half-elf Eddie; Bard Eddie; Paladin Steve; Mutual pining; Getting together; First kiss; Fluff; Idiots in love

Notes: Today's challenge over at @st-loveconfessions was to write a ficlet inspired by an artwork, and I immediately thought of this beautiful fanart by @starthecozy. I know you like my fantasy AUs, so I hope that this one will make bring a smile to your face! ❤️💐

“So, what's the plan?”

Steve looks up from the ale he's been sipping for the past hour or so to find Robin walking into the tavern. As she slides onto the barstool next to his, her eyes flick from his face to the colorful bouquet of spring flowers sitting next to his glass.

“Are you actually going to go out there and give them to him? Or are you gonna let them wilt again?”

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles. He knows she won't, and she knows he knows it, but she also knows it's not really her he's annoyed with. “I'm getting to it. I'm having a drink before I go, that's all.”

She gives him a look.

“Dingus,” she says. “For the past week and a half, you've picked a fresh bouquet every day, and then you keep finding excuses as to why you can't go and give it to him. Your rooms are starting to look like a flower shop and I think Mrs Henderson's sheep and Hopper’s horse have been conspiring to murder you for stealing their food. And quite frankly, if I need to keep watching the two of you dance around each other for a little longer, I might join them.”

Steve chews on his bottom lip while she snatches his glass and drains it in three long gulps.

“This is fucking embarrassing, huh?” he mutters. “I'm a damn paladin for heaven's sake. I've slain monsters and fought dark wizards and saved the realm from darkness, and here I am, unable to bring myself to tell that stupid, pretty, loud-mouthed bard I lo- … ugh.”

He trails off, propping his elbows up on the bar and hiding his head in his hands.

“I can't even say it in here. I'm so pathetic.”

A hand grabs his right wrist, gently prying his hand from his face.

“There's nothing pathetic about being scared.” Her finger traces the outline of the bird-shaped mark on his wrist, and instantly, he can feel himself growing more calm. “For the record, though, I don't think that you have any reason to be. He's as gone for you as you are for him.”

Steve scoffs weakly. “Yeah, I doubt that. I'm not even his soulmate, so-”

“You don't know that,” she says. “It's not unheard of for people to have two, or more even. It's entirely possible that you are and your marks just haven't manifested yet.”

Steve gives her a look. “We've fought side by side. He saved my life on at least three different occasions, and I his. I think we'd know by now if- hey, what the hell?”

“Not all soul bonds are forged in the fires of battle like ours.” She lowers the hand she just flicked his forehead with, picking up the bouquet and pressing it into his hands. “Sometimes, they need time to bloom. Now go to him.”

He doesn't need to search long. The melody floating over the hill behind the tavern tells him exactly where he needs to go.

Eddie is sitting cross-legged in the crisp spring grass, plucking away on his lute and singing softly in his mother's tongue. His hair is down, dark curls moving softly in the warm breeze, revealing the tips of his pointed ears every now and then. Steve stands transfixed and watches him, thinking back on how closed-off and guarded Eddie was when they first met. How he used to hide his ears under cowls and hats, always scared to reveal his heritage. How far they've come since then. It makes a familiar, fuzzy warmth spread behind his collarbone.

And that's when Eddie looks up and sees him standing on top of the hill.

“Well, look who it is,” he greets, face splitting into that wide, toothy grin that makes Steve’s hand clench tighter around the bouquet and sends his stomach into weird little somersaults. “Haven’t seen you around in days. What earns me the pleasure of your presence?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve grumbles, forcing his wobbly legs to walk closer. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, he says.” Eddie rolls his pretty eyes, putting the lute aside and gesturing for Steve to join him in the grass. His voice still has the soft, melodic lilt to it that’s always more pronounced when he’s just switched out of the elven language. Steve thinks he could listen to it for hours and not get tired of it. “The sun is bright and warm in the sky, the birds are singing, and spring is in the air, but his Lordship is busy. Why must you humans always be so dreadfully serious?”

Steve rolls his eyes, plopping down into the pleasantly cool grass. “Well, we can’t all laze around and make music all day. Someone has to make sure the place is running smoothly. And besides, you’re half human as well.”

“And on days as beautiful as this, I like to not think of it,” Eddie winks. “But thank you for reminding me.”

They sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the village wafting all around them. Eddie is right, Steve thinks. It is a beautiful day. The last chill of winter is fully and truly gone, and the air smells of life and new beginnings. The kind of day he hoped to see again, back in the dark days when all seemed lost and it looked like all of their fighting had been in vain.

“It was nice, by the way,” he finally says. Eddie stirs, gaze shifting from the rolling clouds in the bright blue sky to his face. “The song.”

“Nice, huh?” Eddie huffs softly. “What high praise coming from you.”

“I’m making you a compliment here, you dickhead,” Steve groans, secretly thinking how the song wasn’t just nice, but beautiful. Beautiful as the day all around them and beautiful as the singer. “Take it or leave it.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, loud and unrestrained. It makes the dimples at the corner of his mouth appear, the ones that Steve wants to trace with his fingers. When he calms down, there’s a faint pink blush blooming on the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

Steve perks up. “Huh? You wrote it yourself? What’s it about?”

“It’s, um- …” Eddie hesitates, suddenly absurdly interested in plucking at the young blades of grass. “It’s about love. How allowing yourself to be loved is the scariest thing, because it means giving yourself to the other person fully, without hiding anything or holding anything back. But how it’s also unavoidable, if you find the person your heart longs for.”

“That’s-” Steve says. Swallows. Wets his lips with his tongue before he tries again. “That sounds wonderful. You’ll need to translate it for me some time.”

Eddie’s eyes flick up, locking on his, and he feels himself blush - a hot, tingling heat that creeps out from under his collar and all the way up to his cheeks.

“I mean … only if you want to, of course. I’d never-”

“I’d love that,” Eddie smiles. “I’ll translate all the words in the song for you, a hundred times over if you want me to. Under one condition.”

“Huh?” Steve says, feeling his blush darken as he watches that smile grow more coy. “What condition?”

“I want you to finally grow a pair and hand over those flowers.”

Steve sputters. Eddie laughs and pats him on the back as he tries to catch his breath.

“Damn,” Steve murmurs, once he’s regained the ability to speak. His face must be shining like a beacon by now. “”Was I that obvious?”

“Subtlety has never been your strength, big boy,” Eddie laments. “You’ve been moping around like a lovesick idiot for weeks. The entire village must’ve caught on by now. So, as your friend, I must insist you spare all of us further embarrassment and just confess your love to whatever fair maiden has caught your eye. I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of, she’d be a fool to- … what?”

Steve has whipped up his head and is gawking at him, eyes huge and incredulous.

“Maiden?” he croaks. Eddie scrunches his nose in confusion. It makes his entire face crinkle adorably, and Steve can feel a treacherous bout of laughter tingling in the warm, fluttery space behind his collarbone. “What maiden? There’s no maiden, you idiot.”

“A strapping young lad then.” Eddie waves a hand in the air between them. He’s trying to go for nonchalant, but there’s a distinctly annoyed undercurrent to his voice. “This isn’t the time to get hung up on technicalities, Stevie. I’m trying to tell you something important here. If you want to be with that person, you need to overcome your fears and take matters into your own hands, because nobody is gonna do it for you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Apparently not.”

And then he kisses him.

He might not be Eddie’s soulmate, but he won’t sit by and listen to him hark this nonsense about Steve running off with someone else. Not when Eddie’s laugh and Eddie’s voice and Eddie’s eyes have been all he’s been thinking of for months.

Eddie makes a confused sound against his lips, arms flailing in surprise, and for a second or two, Steve is convinced he’s gonna push him back and demand to know what the hell he is doing. Then, he melts into Steve’s touch. His lips part ever so slightly, a shuddery sigh tickling Steve’s face, and his hands come to rest on Steve’s arms - lightly, hesitantly, like he isn’t sure this is really happening. Like he cannot believe he’s allowed to have this. It’s all the encouragement Steve needs to deepen the kiss.

Eddie’s lips are every bit as soft as they look, the little noises he makes even sweeter than he imagined in his wildest dreams, and immediately, he finds himself wondering why he didn’t do this a lot sooner. By the time they pull apart, one of his hands has found its way to Eddie’s face, gently cupping his cheek, fingers slipping into his dark curls.

Eddie stares at him, lips pink and slightly parted, eyes round and large with surprise, and this time, Steve can’t contain the fond laugh that bubbles from his throat.

“It’s you, you moron,” he says, because he has a feeling that Eddie needs it spelled out for him in order to believe it. “It has always been you. Since the day we met, I think.”

“But-” Eddie stutters. Trails off. His lips move silently, even though no words come out and Steve thinks with a victorious little swoop of his stomach that he has finally found a way to render him speechless. “But why?”

“Because,” says Steve, tracing the shell of one pointed ear with his finger. “You are kind and brave and funny and strong and one of the most amazing persons I’ve ever met and I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks.”

He notices a little belatedly that his right hand is still clutching the bouquet of flowers, and with a sheepish little smile, he nudges them in Eddie’s direction.

“These are for you, by the way. Will you accept them?”

“I will,” Eddie’s hands are warm as they close around his, that smile still soft and brimming with hesitant joy. “And, um … I also wouldn’t say no to another kiss?”

Steve is only too happy to indulge him.

This time, Eddie is more bold, not leaving him the lead but deepening the kiss on his own accord, tongue poking out to tease lightly at Steve’s lips. Steve sighs and grants him access-

-and that’s when it happens.

It starts as a barely-there tickle in his left wrist, and at first, he thinks that it's Eddie’s hair tickling his skin. It's only when the feeling intensifies, spreading into his arm and all the way up to his shoulder and chest as a fuzzy, tingling warmth that he realizes it’s something else. He gasps and pulls back, heart kickstarting in his ribcage, head spinning with surprised exhilaration, because he recognizes this sensation. He has felt it before.

“Stevie?” Eddie asks, voice shaky with confusion, and Steve knows he can feel it, too. “What’s going- what is that?”

He is staring at something on Steve’s wrist, eyes huge and watery. Steve doesn’t need to look to know it will be there, but he does anyway. He wants to know what it looks like.

It’s two music notes, delicate and entwined like dancers, in the exact same spot as Robin’s mark on his other wrist. They’re still pale, only just having appeared, but darkening even as he watches.

“But how-” Eddie whispers, reaching out shaking fingers to trace the mark. “There’s no way- … What does that mean?”

Steve’s face is hurting from the force of his own grin.

“It means,” he says, gently disentangling one of Eddie’s hands from the bouquet so that he can lift it between them and reveal the sword and shield blooming on Eddie’s wrist. “That I was an idiot. And also that we’re soulmates.”

He ducks his head to brush his lips against the mark, and the touch is like electricity crackling through his veins, is like the heady rush of a good wine in his blood. Eddie laughs, a shaky and surprised thing, and Steve knows he feels it, too.

“Robin is gonna be insufferable about it,” Steve mutters. “She’s been bugging me to finally confess to you for forever, can you imagine her smug face when she sees these?”

Eddie frowns down at the marks. When he looks up at Steve, his dark eyes are glinting.

“I dunno, they still look a bit pale to me. Maybe we should wait for them to come in properly before we tell her. If only there was something we could do to speed up the process …”

Turns out Robin was right, Steve thinks as they tumble down into the soft grass together, exchanging whispered confessions of love between more laughter and kisses.

Sometimes, love needs time to bloom.

More Steddie Bingo

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's steddie bingo

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pinkslipxox · 2 months ago

Text

Morning Passion:

Summary: Vi pleasures you when you wake up 🙈

Warnings: fluff, smut 🥰❤️

——————————————————————————

Morning sunlight filters softly through the sheer curtains, painting the room in a warm glow as you stir awake. As you slowly open your eyes, the first thing you see is Vi’s relaxed face, her pink hair tousled and falling effortlessly around her features. The passion of the night before lingers in the air, and you can’t help but blush at the memories that comes back to you like a silent movie playing. Her gentle strength, her touch, her warmth— she held nothing back, and neither did you.

Vi stirs, and she yawns as she stretches her arms, muscles flexing with each movement. A gentle smile spreads on her lips as she lays eye on you. You love morning like this, wrapped in the sheets, limbs entangled, hearts aligned.

“Good mornin’, princess,” Vi murmurs, her voice a delightful husk of sleep and desire. The intimate pet name fills you with warmth, your heart swelling with love.

“Good morning, babes,” you hum in reply and lean in, gently molding your lips with hers.

Vi shifts, propping herself up with her elbow, and she tenderly brushes a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “You look so beautiful like this. Have I ever told you how much I love you?” she says, her eyes glimmering with affection.

You giggle, your heart sweeping at her words. “Thank you, Violet,” you reply, feeling a deep sense of love and gratitude for the woman in beside you.

Your girlfriend pulls you closer, her arm wrapped around your waist, cradling you like a precious treasure. She then kisses you, slowly at first, before it builds with every passing second as passion spills forth. Your body responds instinctively, leaning into her warmth. You melt against her, feeling the intensity as her lips move against yours.

“I love you,” Vi murmurs between kisses, ceasing your face in her hands. “I fucking love you, Y/N…”

You love it when she talks like this.

“Show me,” you manage to say as her lips trail kisses down your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. You gasp, feeling a shiver run down your spine as you lean into her, urging her to continue.

Vi obliges, her mouth exploring the swell of your breasts, just like she did the night before. Her touch, gentle yet possessive, sends electricity through your body. She gentle love bites along your skin, each one igniting a fire within you. You whimper softly, craving more of her touch, more of her heat. She takes her time, lavishing kisses along your thighs, each lingering touch sending shivers of delight throughout your body.

As she positions herself between your legs, you can feel your pulse quicken in anticipation. She shoots you a mischievous wink before her head disappears between your thighs. You moan as you feel her warm tongue make contact with your clit, soothing an ache you didn’t know you had.

Vi’s soft yet unyielding ministrations makes you breathless, a melody of gasps and moans escaping your lips as you melted under your girlfriend’s care. Her tongue glides, caresses, swirls along your sensitive skin, and you can’t help but rock your hips to her rhythm. Yet she’s quick to hold you in place, her grip firm yet gentle as she ravishes her attention on your cunt.

“Violet!” you cry out, arching your back as your vision blurs and your legs tremble. You feel your girlfriend smirk against your skin, and she groans when you gently twist and pull on her hair, the vibrations sending you over the edge.

As you succumb to that euphoric peak, Vi continues on pleasuring you until the last drop of your sweetness. Once you come down from the high, Vi crawls back up beside you, her expression soft and caring. She cradles you in her muscular arms, each touch a mix of tenderness and strength as she pulls you against her chest.

“That was incredible,” you murmur softly, satisfaction laced in your voice, and Vi chuckles, obviously proud of herself.

“Much better than coffee,” she teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief and she laughs as you playfully smack her arm.

Cradled in Vi’s arms, you know that you’re cherish more than anything. She definitely proved that this morning. And you are more than happy to comply next time.

#vi arcane x fem!reader #vi arcane x y/n #vi arcane x you #vi arcane fanfic #vi arcane fanfiction #vi arcane imagine #arcane smut #vi arcane x reader #vi fanfic #vi fluff #vi arcane fluff #vi arcane #vi fanfiction #vi arcane smut #smut #arcane #pitfighter!vi x reader #pit fighter vi

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char-marr · 4 months ago

Text

Gwen and Eve from Magical Melody💕

—

When I was a kid I remember marrying Gwen and then afterwards Eve moved to town and I was distraught because she was so beautiful. I love them both now 😫❤️

#harvest moon #harvest moon magical melody #hm mm #Gwen #Eve #hm Gwen #magical melody #artists on tumblr #my art #Gwen harvest moon #eve harvest moon #bokujou monogatari #bokumono #hm magical melody #fanart #harvestmoon fanart

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maximoffsgirl · 5 months ago

Text

Baby It's Cold Outside

summary: When helping Wanda move into her new apartment, Christmas feels just a little closer as she convinces you to stay, after all, it was too cold outside

warnings: Alcohol consumption, established relationship, Christmas songs/vibe, otherwise there's none, this is pure fluff.

author's note: to everyone who celebrates, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! I hope you're all having a wonderful Christmas, stay safe! ❤️

just a small christmas thing :)

words count: 2380

not proofread

You sank deeper into Wanda’s new couch, the plush fabric practically swallowing you whole. Wanda couldn't help but smile at the sight of you so comfortably curled up in her living room. She appeared moments later, holding two cups of eggnog, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting softly off the glasses.

Aa she approached, you sat up just enough to take one from her hand, fingers brushing hers as you did. A small sigh escaped your lips as you gazed down at the creamy, alcoholic drink.

“I really can’t stay…” you murmured, eyeing your girlfriend who gave no mind to your words.

It was meant to be a quick visit—a simple “hi” and a little help rearranging some things in her new apartment. Somehow, that quick visit had stretched into an afternoon of unpacking, followed by hot chocolate and a Christmas movie she insisted on watching. “For good luck,” she had claimed.

Now, you sat there with a eggnog on hand, waiting for her to join you again, knowing full well that you should be going soon.

Wanda swayed her hips playfully as she approached you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Leaning down just enough, she brought her lips close to your ear, her voice a low murmur as you sip little by little your drink.

“It’s cold outside, beautiful. What’s your hurry?”

You couldn’t help but smile, tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. “My family is here, Wanda. My parents will start to worry,” you reasoned softly, though the teasing smirk tugging at her lips made it clear she had other plans in mind.

She chuckled, nodding as if she agreed, though her expression betrayed her pretense. “Finish your drink, princess,” she coaxed, her tone both sweet and persuasive.

“Babe, I’m serious,” you muttered, though your resolve was already faltering. “They’ll start calling me nonstop soon.”

Gently taking your wrist, Wanda guided your hand with the eggnog to your lips. “Just half a drink more?” she tried again, her sweet smile all but sealing your fate.

You rolled your eyes playfully, tapping her thigh twice as you relented. “Go put some records on, then.”

Grinning, she placed her mug on the side table and sashayed toward her collection of vinyl records. After a brief search, she pulled out a Christmas classic and placed it on the turntable, letting the festive melody fill the room and lighten the mood.

You took another sip of the eggnog, humming at the familiar, warm taste as Wanda reached for your free hand. Gently, but with that unmistakable air of playful dominance, she pulled you toward her. One arm wrapped securely around your waist as she began to sway, her movements perfectly in time with “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” which echoed softly through the apartment.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at her playful antics. Mimicking her, you swayed your hips jokingly, lifting one arm high to keep your drink from any accidental spills.

“Mind if I move in closer?” Wanda murmured, her voice low and teasing as she pulled you even tighter against her.

Your smile only grew as you felt the slight dizziness creeping in—whether from the drink or Wanda’s presence, you weren’t sure. Maybe the extra liquor she’d mischievously added was finally taking its toll.

“I really can’t stay,” you managed to remind her, even as your body instinctively followed hers.

While moving around, Wanda pouted dramatically, her hands tightening their grip on your hips. “You’re hurting my pride,” she said, nodding along with her words, as if trying to make a convincing case.

You laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Your pride?!” you teased back, arching a brow at her.

She simply nodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and tugged you even closer. Before you could react, she stole the eggnog from your hand, bringing it to your lips.

“Drink,” she commanded softly, and you complied, raising your eyebrows as you took another sip. She followed your actions, bringing the drink to her own lips, before giving it to you again. You took another sip, setting the glass on the kitchen counter.

Wanda began to sing along with Frank Sinatra, her voice soft and smooth as she moved her head to the rhythm. Her smile was radiant, but her eyes were fixed on you with a teasing intensity.

With every sentence, she inched closer, her hands still guiding your movements. Just as you thought you could predict her next move, she leaned in and stole a quick, unexpected kiss, her lips brushing against yours while she continued singing.

“What’s in that drink?!” you exclaimed, glaring at her playfully as her arms remained draped around your neck, guiding you in a slow dance across the living room.

“Lots of love,” Wanda teased, stepping back just enough to twirl you around, her mischievous smile never wavering. You giggled, letting her pull you back into her warm embrace.

As you caught your breath, you grabbed her hands, playfully lifting them to rest on top of your head. Both of you spun together, your movements fluid and in sync until you came back face-to-face, laughing softly.

Wanda was quick to pull you even closer, humming the tune of what you recognized to be “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” her voice soft and sweet.

You swayed lazily across the room, your bodies moving in a rhythm that wasn’t guided by the music but by the simple joy of being together. Wanda’s hands rested gently on your waist, her touch warm and reassuring, while your own arms draped loosely around her neck. Every so often, she’d spin you playfully, her laughter blending seamlessly with yours, filling the apartment with a melody of happiness.

The faint scent of pine lingered in the air, mingling with the eggnog scent. The soft glow of fairy lights illuminated the space, casting a warm and cozy light over the new apartment. The sound of your laughter echoed against the bare walls, making the empty corners feel full of life and love

“Your hands are still just like ice,” she teased, taking your hands gently and pressing soft kisses to the backs of them. The warmth of her lips sent a small shiver up your spine.

Before you could respond, the sharp buzz of your phone broke the moment, its vibrations echoing in the quiet room.

Wanda let out an exaggerated groan as you pulled away to check it, rolling her eyes at the interruption. You managed to glance at the screen before the call ended, the name “Dad” glowing brightly.

“See?” you said, raising an eyebrow at her while slipping the phone back onto the table.

Your expression said it all: I told you so.

As you started gathering your things, Wanda stood behind you, grumbling softly as she slid her hands around your hips, gently pulling you back against her.

Her lips brushed against the curve of your neck, her kisses soft and deliberate as she tried to distract you from packing.

“You’re very pushy, you know,” you murmured, unable to suppress a smile as her touch sent a wave of warmth through you.

You felt as she shrugged behind you, her smile pressing into the curve of your neck. “Hm… I like to think of it as being opportunistic.”

With a gentle but firm turn, Wanda spun you around to face her, her gaze soft yet filled with mischief. You groaned dramatically, pretending to be exasperated, but deep down, you couldn’t help but marvel at how stunning she looked in the soft glow of the apartment lights. How could one be this beautiful?

“I don’t want to worry them, love,” you whispered, trying to maintain your resolve even as her fingers gently traced your waist.

Her fingers traced soft, lazy circles against your skin, slipping under the hem of the oversized sweater you wore. Wanda’s touch was warm despite the chill that hung in the air.

“And look at that! It’s already snowing and—” you began, your words tumbling out in a rush. You weren’t sure if you were complaining, reasoning, or simply trying to distract yourself from the way her fingertips skimmed along your waist. Somewhere in the middle of your rambling, Wanda’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Gosh, your lips look delicious,” she said, her voice low and teasing.

The words pulled you out of your tangent, and suddenly you were acutely aware of the way her hands had wandered higher, resting just below your ribs. Her lazy smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes—soft, deep green—pinned you in place.

You faltered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you took her in. Wanda had this way of looking at you, making you feel as if the whole world had quieted down around the two of you. Her cheekbones, flushed pink from the cold, seemed to invite your lips closer. And her mouth, just by simply breathing, curved in a way that made you want to kiss her endlessly.

“No, no, no,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to her.

With a sudden twist, you wriggled free of her hold, spinning away and putting as much distance between you and her gravitational pull as possible.

Wanda laughed, low and soft, as if she knew exactly what you were doing. Her gaze followed you as she plucked her drink from the table, taking a slow sip while leaning casually against the armrest of the couch.

“I really have to get home,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at her as if to warn her not to try anything.

“Baby, you’ll freeze out there,” she teased, her laughter echoing through the room. The way you paced back and forth, flustered, only seemed to amuse her more.

You continued, rambling on about how your parents would worry, how the snow was starting to stick—until somehow, you found yourself directly in front of her again.

Wanda saw her chance and took it.

In one smooth motion, she tugged you closer, pushing until the backs of your knees hit the couch. With a quiet yelp, you fell onto the soft cushions, only for Wanda to follow, climbing over you with ease. Her drink now long forgotten on the small glass table.

Her weight pressed you deeper into the plush fabric, and instinctively, your hands slid to her hips.

She leaned in slowly—agonizingly so—until her face hovered inches from yours. And when she finally closed the distance, capturing your lips with hers, the world outside ceased to matter.

The kiss was slow at first, her lips warm and familiar, as she carefully slid her tongue across your bottom lip - not that you could ever deny her the silent ask. Wanda’s fingers tangled in your hair, softly trailing down to your neck, tilting your head just so as the kiss deepened, your tongues moving in a mutual pleasure.

Your hands gripped her waist tighter, pulling her impossibly closer. Each movement felt like second nature, as if the two of you had danced this dance a thousand times before.

Wanda's lips brushed against yours, lingering softly as she pulled back just enough to watch your reaction. A quiet hum escaped your throat as you instinctively leaned forward, chasing her for another kiss.

“Gosh, your lips are delicious,” she teased, her voice low and warm as she smirked down at you.

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, you flopped back onto the couch with a dramatic groan. “How can you do this to me?”

Wanda laughed, the soft sound echoing through the cozy room as her fingers lazily traced small circles over your sweater. The simple touch left goosebumps trailing in its wake.

“Darling, it’s cold outside,” she said sweetly, tilting her head as if she were earnestly concerned. But the glint in her eyes gave her away. “I wouldn’t want my pretty girl to catch pneumonia and die. That would be such a shame.”

She pouted, the very picture of faux sincerity, but you knew better. Wanda only pulled this act when she was feeling particularly smug—or when she was trying to get her way.

“Would we, baby? Hm?”

Your resolve wavered as you met her gaze.

Begrudgingly, you shook your head, looking at the ceiling, completely unamused with the way she was acting. You sank further into the couch while Wanda’s smile grew.

She smiled at your playful - cute - action, gently cupping your chin, guiding your eyes back to hers with the lightest touch. The playfulness in her expression softened just enough to make your heart flutter.

“I guess… I could finish my drink,” you mumbled, attempting nonchalance as if you weren’t completely giving in.

Wanda’s eyes sparkled, and she twirled a lock of your hair around her finger, leaning closer with a soft, content sigh. “Well, that took a lot of convincing,” she quipped, lips twitching into a grin.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at her arm in mock indignation before abruptly sitting up. Wanda yelped softly as she lost her balance, falling back against the couch with an indignant glare.

But before she could retaliate, you were already on your feet, making your way to the kitchen counter with an exaggerated sway of your hips—one you made sure she wouldn’t miss.

Wanda’s eyes stayed glued to you, and you could practically feel her gaze burning into your back.

“Tease,” she muttered under her breath, though you caught the fondness laced in her voice.

As “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!” drifted from the speakers, blending seamlessly with the crackling warmth of the apartment, she stayed sprawled on the couch, her gaze following you as you finished the last sip of your drink. The satisfied smile tugging at her lips told you she knew she’d won—without ever needing to say a word.

With a content sigh, you padded back over to the couch, curling into her like it was second nature. The space between you vanished as Wanda’s head rested comfortably on your chest, pulling you flush against her side, your hands tightly around her waist and legs tangled together.

You reached for the remote and lazily tossed it into her lap. “Your turn to pick,” you mumbled, already feeling the soft lull of sleep tug at your edges.

Outside, the snow had started to fall harder, blanketing the city in shimmering white. But inside—wrapped in Wanda’s embrace, the soft rhythm of her breathing on top of you—the cold felt like a distant thing.

The weather outside was, indeed, frightful. But being tucked against her, fingers intertwined beneath the thick blankets, felt far more delightful than anything you could have wished “Dear Santa” for.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

Masterlist

#Spotify #mcu #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #wanda #wlw #wanda x reader #wanda x yn #wanda imagine #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #Y/N #Christmas #merry christmas

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mabelstone · 1 year ago

Text

La Petite Mort

hozier x f!reader

part four of lullabies <3 | part three | masterlist

cw: sex sex sex love making ❤️ no other warnings really, it's pretty gushy

word count: 2.6k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n xo

Hours later, the buzz of the alcohol had completely fled my system, leaving me with a residual fatigue and a love struck smile. It felt wrong, but simultaneously, nothing had ever felt so right or natural. Like the sense of deja vu that confirms you are exactly where you're supposed to be.

"Hey," he gently shook my arm from where I was sitting in a booth, almost unable to keep my eyes open. "You 'right?"

"Mhm," I grinned, fighting back a yawn. "And how are you, hotshot?"

"Overwhelmed," he huffed, extending his hand to me. He never enjoyed crowds despite their tendency to form around him everywhere he went. "Let's go home."

I let him lead me out, warmth flooding my cheeks at the simple gesture. The bite of the cold was sharper than earlier, my teeth instantly chattering. He, of course noticed immediately, shucking himself of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

"Andy," I shook my head trying to fight him off, but it was no use. "Now you're gonna get cold."

"I have at least three layers on at all times, the cold fears me," he joked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Thank you," I pouted at him, overwhelmed at such a small gesture. But it wasn't small to me. Everything Andy did was grand in my eyes. "So chivalrous."

"Well, you know me," he shrugged, stifling a grin of his own.

I started humming the chorus of tonights' song as we walked, unable to remember any of the words other than imagine being loved by me, and the beautiful melody that was sure to hang around for days.

"Don't do that," he laughed with embarrassment, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"Why not? It's a beautiful song, after all," I shrugged, unable to hide my smile that stretched from ear to ear. "And wasn't I the inspiration?" I teased, and it was now his turn to glow red.

"Mhm," he grinned, eyes focused on the road ahead of us. We were nearly back at the car, and the adrenaline was beginning to flood my bloodstream. "That's why you liked it, 'uh?."

"So good," I agreed, walking a bit closer to him that now our arms bumped occasionally. "Did you mean what you said? In the song?"

"'Course I did," he chuckled, unlocking the car and opening my door for me. He even helped me buckle my seatbelt. "Don't worry, it's just a song."

He climbed into his side now, the faintest pink tint to his cheeks, but otherwise, unbothered. I, on the other hand, was trying to get my stupid heart to slow back to normal.

I was fighting the urge to climb over into his lap and beg him to do all the things he'd been imagining. Instead we drove in what would appear to be comfortable silence from an outsiders' perspective. Obviously I didn't know what he was thinking, but I can promise you there was no trace of innocence in my thoughts. The air in the car was thick with desire, leaving me on the verge of choking on the tension.

We exchanged few words on the drive back to his, stealing bashful glances here and there. When the car stilled to a park, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.

"Andrew?" My heart continued to pound in my ears, his brows raising slightly in encouragement. "I want you," I confessed.

He turned to face me and I could see his quickening pulse through the thin skin of his neck. He swallowed thickly, pupils blown so wide I could scarcely see any green.

His gaze flitted between my lips and my eyes, and I'm sure I too was all pupil at this point. I couldn't help myself, leaning over the centre console to feel his lips on mine. My eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and I swear something inside of me had come alive for the first time in my life.

He was better than I had ever imagined.

Lips warm and soft, adding the perfect amount of pressure that made me crave more and more. His hand slipped up the back of my head, cradling its entirety in his palm.

He pulled back slowly, his hand still at the base of my skull. His lips were plump and looked absolutely delicious, my heart aching at the loss of contact.

"I want you, you know that," his voice was lower than before, our faces still close enough that I could feel the tickle of his breath ghosting my lips. "But you just got out of such a long relationship."

"You've treated me better these past few weeks than he did in six years," I reached my hand up to cup his face. His skin was warm and soft, the scratch of his stubble in my palm pulling me back down to Earth, reminding me that this wasn't just another daydream of mine. "Please, kiss me."

And he did, pulling me in as close as the confinement of his car would allow. It felt like coming up for air after holding your breath under water, like the relief you get when a siren finally stops blaring. His scent, his warmth, his gentle breaths exhaled through his nose, mingling with mine as we moved in synchronicity, as if we'd rehearsed this a million times. I'm starting to suspect he must have been having similar dreams of me.

I pulled away this time, giving him my best doe eyes through hooded lids as I suggested, "shall we go inside?"

Without a second thought, Andy was out of the car, opening my door for me. Within moments, our lips were connected again, my arms draped around his neck, his hands quick to grab my waist. He lead me into his house, our mouths moving fast, passion coursing through our veins like electricity. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me up the stairs. We were a mess of giggles and laboured breathing, bumping into walls, and desperately grabbing at one another.

Despite the desperation in our actions, he softly laid me onto his bed, crawling in between my thighs before kissing me again. I ran my hands up the sides of his torso, feeling him shudder slightly under my touch.

I could feel his hard on digging into my thigh, and suddenly my clothes were the biggest inconvenience known to man. "Show me, Andy," I breathed in between kisses, his lips now on my neck, my knickers well on their way to being drenched. "All the things you've been wanting to do to me."

He let out a deep, guttural sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a whine. He reluctantly pulled himself from me, slipping his shoes off in two fluid movements. He knelt before me, my entire ankle easily in the grip of his hand. He unbuckled my heels, slipping them off with a kiss to each of my calves. He slowly ran his hands up my legs, planting a trail of kisses upon each inch of skin he touched, the heat in my core beginning to boil.

He looked up through his head of curls, eyes dark and hungry. "You sure you want this, darlin'?"

I nodded desperately, hands instantly finding their way into his hair to bring his lips to mine again. His tongue prodded at my bottom lip and I let him in my mouth without hesitation, allowing him to explore. This only caused my desire for his tongue elsewhere to grow insurmountably.

All of my senses came to life when I felt his hand moving toward my inner thigh, opening my legs wide for him to grant him full access. His fingers made their way to my core, a soft groan fleeting from his lips. "Fuck," he breathed against my lips, slipping a ridiculously long finger inside of me with ease. I moaned into his mouth, one of my hands reaching down to grab his wrist, encouraging him to insert another. He did, curling his fingers with such precision that if I my brain weren't staticky from the feeling, I'd question how many lovers he'd had. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, kissing my neck as he did so, eyes glued to my face as if he were memorising every expression he pulled from me.

"Need to feel you," I choked out breathlessly, desperately cupping his face. "Please."

He smiled wickedly, kissing my lips once more before pulling his fingers out, dipping them straight into his mouth. My jaw nearly detached from my face at the gesture, my stomach flipping harder than ever. I watched in awe as he pulled his shirt off, his pants soon to follow, absolutely shocked that the shy, awkward, nerdy Andrew I thought I knew did not exist within these walls. I could see the outline of his cock through his boxers, swallowing hard. How on Earth was that going to fit? I sat up to rid myself of my dress, allowing it to pool around my ankles as he watched on, cock twitching beneath the thin cotton.

I made my way to him, helping him remove the last bit of clothing keeping us apart, eyes nearly bulging out of my head when I saw him. All of him. He may be the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

His hands quickly found my face, reeling me in with those lips once more before laying me on the bed again. His eyes searched mine again for any doubt, not finding any, but something else. "You okay?"

"Yes, just preparing," I laughed, only half joking.

"You're okay, you can take it," he kissed my cheek softly, lining himself up with my entrance. I gasped at the sharp sting of the stretch, holding my breath briefly. He halted all movement, no doubt used to this happening. "Tell me when, baby."

I rested my hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath before nodding. He slowly slipped the rest of his length in, our beautiful harmonisation of moans filling the air.

It was only painful for a moment before I was practically begging for more. He was as long and thick as you’d expect, but God, nothing could have prepared me. He began to form a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of me while I whined under his touch.

To feel his body weight on mine, his warmth, his scent, his love - I had ascended from my human form. I caved, begging him for more, begging him to fuck me how he wanted to.

He captured my lips with his mid way through a thrust, his cock slamming into that spot that made my brain fuzzy. I dug my nails into his shoulders, gasping into his mouth, “just like that.”

He obliged, one of his hands steadying himself with the headboard, the other cupping the back of my head. I wondered why, until he really found his rhythm.

With each delicious thrust, he would effectively hit my g-spot, making me weak as jelly under him, barely able to form words. My head was hitting his hand with the sheer force of each thrust, and I’m sure the thought of him protecting my skull would make me swoon if I weren’t on the brink of tears, producing noises I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Andy, Andy,” I chanted his name breathlessly, unable to even open my eyes as pleasure cradled my entire being. I’d never heard my voice this desperate ever, to the point that I had no autonomy over my words and vocality, like my soul was speaking without getting confirmation from my brain first. “You- feel- so- good,” I was near crying between each thrust, my mouth completely dry from all the panting.

“You feel good too, darlin’,” he grinned, removing his hand from the bed head and dropping it down to my clit. “So fuckin’ good.”

My jaw went slack, no coherent words falling from my mouth, just rhapsodies of praise in the form of whimpers and laboured breaths.

"Want you to cum for me," he breathed, his thrusts growing sloppy ever so slightly.

"Keep going," I barely got the words out, the coil in my stomach tightening as he dragged me closer to the edge with every word, every thrust, every skilled dance of his fingers over my clit. "Andy," I warned loudly, the high pitch of my tone sounding foreign to my ears, unsure if had even fallen from my tongue. "Oh, my God, I'm gonna-"

Within an instant, I unravelled beneath his touch, moaning a string of curses I couldn't even hear as the static in my mind grew overwhelming. I shook uncontrollably, every muscle of mine growing limp yet tensing and spasming at the same time. My back arched and my toes curled, crescent moon shapes from my fingernails marking his beautiful skin; a reminder to us both of how euphoric he had made me feel. My orgasm rippled through me like waves in a storm, pummelling me over and over as I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, unable to open them, unable to close my mouth as a slurry of cries dripped from my soul. Unsure of what came over me, I begged, “please cum in me,” wanting nothing more than to feel every ounce of his loving.

When I finally came back down to Earth, the waves crashed into him, the most angelic sounds flooding the four walls we were confined to. Overstimulation wracked my bones, panting into his mouth as he rode out the rest of his high, a clash of tongue and teeth as he kissed me once more. He pumped into me a few more unsteady times, his arms shaking as they struggled to hold his weight any longer.

He pulled out of me slowly, the loss of contact leaving me with a hollow feeling, immediately clinging to him the second his head hit the pillow beside me.

“Andrew,” I breathed in disbelief, titling my head to see the tired smile on his face. “I don’t even have words.”

“Could say the same to you!” He sighed, content with his arm around me, our bodies gently slowing back to normal. “What an angel.”

You are the angel, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I basked in his warmth, his scent flooding my senses as my soul unwillingly reconnected with my body.

“Write a song about this, would ya?” I laughed against his skin, tracing shapes into his chest, feeling like I was the main character in a cheesy rom-com.

“Way ahead of ya, love,” he grinned back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wanna have a shower? Or is that too much?”

I looked up at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Andrew. There’s a chance you just knocked me up. No, showering together is not too much.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he groaned, abruptly rolling out of bed, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom. He laughed devilishly at the squeak he elicited from me, kissing my face while I smiled and giggled like a fool.

Fuck.

He towered over me, the beads of water dripping from his hair onto me. He looked beautiful, contented in serenity, similar to how I was feeling, I'm sure. He lathered my body in soapy suds, nothing remotely sexual in the gesture. I did the same for him, enveloped in the warmth of his skin, acclimated to the same temperature of the water. If this were my last moment on Earth, I would die happy. Andrew had a way of making me forget every bad moment of my life. Every poor decision, every tear cried for a man who only thought about himself. Surely, this was too soon to be labelled as love. But it sure felt like it.

"You are so beautiful."

i hope u liked it if u didn't tell me if u did leave requests of something you'd like to see in this next xo and i'm aware of all the run on sentences, i'm sorry if that makes it difficult to read. i will not shut up! even in text

#andrew hozier #hozier x reader #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier smut

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chelseaknoo · 5 months ago

Note

Can you please write that the reader is a singer and has insane vocals and is drop dead gorgeous. So Eminem has a major crush on her (in the 2000's). In one of his interviews he openly talks about her and her music (can you take Birds of a feather by Billie Eilish for example. Like pretend she wrote and sung it the same way). He as usual makes suggestive jokes and stuff. But later finds out that the reader reacted to it and shows admiration in a polite but not rejecting way...... pleaseeeee pleaseeee pleaseeeeeee. I love you ❤️

Eminem x reader

In the 2000s, you were a rising star in the music world, known for your powerful voice that seemed to hit notes only a few could ever dream of reaching. The song "Birds of a Feather" had catapulted you to the top of the charts, its haunting melody and intricate vocal runs taking over the airwaves. It wasn’t just the song itself that caught the attention of listeners—it was your vocal range, your ability to hit those almost impossible notes with such clarity and emotion. Critics raved about your vocal technique, praising your strength, precision, and the way you effortlessly weaved through the high notes that left audiences in awe.

The music video for "Birds of a Feather" became an instant classic. The haunting visuals, paired with your soaring voice, created a perfect storm of artistry that had people talking for weeks. You quickly became a household name, a pop sensation, and your songs dominated the charts, always keeping fans on the edge of their seats, eagerly waiting for your next release.

But it wasn’t just your music that drew attention. Your appearance made headlines just as often. You were known for being strikingly beautiful, but it wasn’t just your looks that made you stand out—it was the confidence you exuded, the way you carried yourself. There was something magnetic about you, a combination of charm and charisma that captivated anyone who came into your orbit. People couldn’t help but stop and stare when you walked into a room, and soon enough, the paparazzi knew your name as well as your fans did.

Eminem, already a prominent name in the Detroit rap scene, found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. Your song "Birds of a Feather" was everywhere—on the radio, at parties, and even in the background of late-night TV shows. It seemed like your voice was the soundtrack to the city, and the more he heard your name, the more his curiosity grew. The people around him—friends, colleagues, and fans alike—couldn’t stop talking about you, praising your incredible vocal range and the way you had taken the music scene by storm.

At first, it was just idle curiosity. He had heard your music before, sure, but the more people around him mentioned your name, the more intrigued he became. What really caught his attention wasn’t just the sound of your voice or your success; it was the way people spoke about you. There was this undeniable aura around you, a magnetic presence that captivated everyone, even from a distance.

As your song continued to dominate the airwaves, his admiration for you began to grow into something deeper. At first, it was just an appreciation for your talent, but the more he thought about it, the more he found himself imagining what it might be like to actually meet you. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to having a crush, the kind of crush that, for someone like him, was rare—he’d been focused on his own career, his own struggles, for so long that the idea of being interested in someone else had never seemed realistic. But with every new mention of your name, with every new hit that seemed to climb higher on the charts, his thoughts shifted.

Eminem wasn’t one to openly gush about anyone, especially not someone in your position, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about the way you carried yourself, the way your voice soared above the rest, that spoke to him in a way few things did. He admired your raw talent, your ability to command a room, and the way you stayed true to yourself in an industry that often demanded conformity. It wasn’t just about the music; it was the person behind it, and in that moment, he couldn’t deny the growing fascination he felt.

As the weeks went by, Eminem found himself getting caught up in thoughts of you, his initial intrigue turning into a full-blown crush. It wasn’t just the fact that you were an incredible artist—though that certainly played a big part—but there was something about the way your name kept popping up in every conversation, in every corner of his world. He’d hear your song on the radio, and without thinking, he’d start to hum along to the melody, a subtle smile creeping onto his face as the lyrics played out.

It was clear that you were becoming something of an obsession, a constant presence in his mind. The more he heard, the more he wanted to know. He wondered if you were anything like the image people had painted of you, or if there was more to you than the public persona everyone seemed so captivated by. Either way, one thing was certain—he was hooked, and he couldn’t ignore the pull you had on him.

Today was like any other for Eminem—another press day, another round of interviews—but there was something different about this one. The moment he stepped into the studio, his mind kept drifting to you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed inside him, something he couldn’t quite explain. His crush on you had taken over his thoughts in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and now, during this interview, he found himself talking about you openly for the first time.

The interviewer, a young woman named Tara, was sitting across from him, ready to dig into his latest album, his personal life, and everything in between. She had done her homework and knew all the right questions to ask, but today, she had a specific topic on her mind.

"So, Marshall," she began, her voice smooth and professional, "we've been hearing a lot about a rising pop star lately. Her name's been all over the radio—'Birds of a Feather,' it's everywhere. I have to ask: Have you heard it?"

Eminem leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he shifted his focus to Tara. His fingers drummed lightly on the armrest, but his eyes remained intense, thoughtful.

"Yeah, I’ve heard it," he said, the words coming out slowly, as if he was weighing each one carefully. "Can’t help but hear it, really. It’s all over the place. People won’t stop talking about her, so I figured I might as well listen."

Tara raised an eyebrow, noticing the subtle shift in his tone. "So what do you think? You know, of her music?"

Eminem paused, his mind momentarily spinning as he tried to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t expected to talk about you like this. Normally, he kept his personal feelings under wraps, but something about this felt... different. He decided to be honest, but in his own way.

"She's talented, that’s for sure," he said, his voice low but earnest. "Her voice... it’s insane. She’s got these crazy high notes, like nothing I’ve heard in pop music in a long time. She’s not just another singer, you know? She’s got something unique. And I respect that."

Tara smiled, leaning in slightly. "You seem to be more than just impressed. You've been hearing about her for a while, huh?"

Eminem chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I don’t really talk about stuff like this, but honestly, I’ve heard her name so much now, it’s kinda hard not to get curious. And when you hear people saying your name over and over again, you gotta see what the hype’s about, right?"

Tara laughed, sensing an opening. "So, you’re saying you’re a little... intrigued?"

Eminem rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Intrigued? Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it," he admitted, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Look, I’m not used to talking about other artists like this, but there’s something about her. It’s not just the voice, though that’s a big part of it. There’s this presence she has. Like, I don’t know—there’s a thing about her that catches your attention, you know? It’s not just about the music. It’s like... she’s got this whole vibe that makes you wanna know more."

Tara leaned back, eyes glinting with curiosity. "You sound like you’ve been paying attention. Could this be the start of a new... Eminem crush?"

Eminem let out a short laugh, his expression a mix of amusement and a hint of something deeper, more genuine. "I don’t know about all that. But yeah, I’ve definitely been paying attention. It’s hard not to when she’s everywhere, and people keep bringing her up. It’s like... I’m hearing about her more than I hear about anything else right now. And I respect what she’s doing—she’s got a style, she’s got a sound, and she’s owning it."

Tara pressed further, sensing an opportunity to get more out of him. "You seem pretty passionate about her music. What do you think it is about her that’s different from other pop stars?"

Eminem sat back, his fingers resting on the edge of the table as he looked off for a moment, thinking. "She doesn’t sound like anyone else, that’s for sure," he said, his voice steady. "A lot of pop singers nowadays, they all kind of sound the same. But her? She’s not following any trends. She’s carving her own path, and I respect that. A lot of these pop stars are just out here trying to sell albums, but she’s actually got something real to offer. That’s rare."

Tara nodded, impressed. "Sounds like you’re not just a fan of her music, but you really respect her as an artist."

"Yeah," Eminem agreed, his voice softening. "There’s something about her whole approach that stands out. And I think people are starting to notice. It’s hard not to, with the way she’s taking over."

A brief silence hung in the air before Tara asked, almost hesitantly, "Do you think you’ll ever work with her? I mean, you two are both huge in your own right. A collaboration could be... interesting."

Eminem’s lips curved into a sly smile as he leaned forward. "Maybe," he said, his voice low but playful. "You never know. I’m not one to rule out anything, but... who knows? If the right time comes, and the right opportunity presents itself, maybe we’ll make it happen."

Tara grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "Sounds like you’re keeping the door open. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for that one."

Eminem let out a small chuckle, but the glint in his eyes remained. "Yeah, maybe one day. But for now, I’ll just keep listening. She’s doing her thing, and I’m doing mine. Who knows what’ll happen down the road?"

The interview was running smoothly, but Tara knew she’d struck gold when Eminem started opening up about you. He wasn’t the type to gush or openly talk about other artists, so his sudden candor was surprising—and entertaining. She decided to keep pushing, curious to see how far he’d go.

"So, you’ve talked about her voice and her vibe," Tara said, leaning forward with a knowing smirk. "But let’s be real, Marshall. A lot of people talk about how she looks. Do you agree with what they’re saying?"

Eminem grinned, a little embarrassed but clearly amused. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Man, you’re really trying to get me in trouble today, huh?"

Tara laughed. "I mean, you brought her up! I’m just asking the questions everyone else is thinking."

He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to collect himself, but the grin stayed firmly in place. "Alright, fine. Yeah, I’ve seen her. And, uh… let’s just say people aren’t exaggerating. She’s—" He paused, searching for the right words. "She’s got that whole package, you know? Like, she’s beautiful, obviously, but it’s more than that. She’s got this presence. You see her, and you can’t look away."

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. "A whole package, huh? Care to elaborate?"

Eminem chuckled, pointing a finger at her. "You’re slick, trying to get me to spill everything. But, yeah, she’s... I mean, come on. Anyone who’s seen her knows what I’m talking about. She’s got this… uh…" He gestured vaguely with his hands, his smirk widening as he tried to find a way to phrase it without giving too much away.

"Are we talking about her curves?" Tara teased, leaning into the moment.

Eminem laughed loudly, shaking his head but not denying it. "Man, I wasn’t gonna say it, but yeah, she’s definitely got, uh, some… assets. I mean, you can’t not notice. It’s like—damn, alright? She’s got it going on. And she knows it, too, the way she carries herself. It’s confidence. That’s what makes it even better."

"Wow," Tara said, grinning ear to ear. "You’re really laying it on thick, huh?"

"I’m just being honest!" he defended, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "What do you want me to say? She’s gorgeous, she’s got this crazy voice, and she’s killing it right now. I can’t help it if I’m a fan."

Tara laughed, clearly entertained. "A fan? Marshall, you sound like you’re one step away from starting a fan club."

"Man, if I wasn’t who I am, I probably would," he joked, shaking his head. "I’d be out here with posters and T-shirts and everything. But nah, seriously, she’s got that whole ‘dream girl’ thing going on. Like, I’m sitting here thinking, ‘Why does she have to be so perfect?’ It’s not fair."

Tara couldn’t stop laughing. "You’re really fangirling over her right now, aren’t you?"

Eminem leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his hands together with an exaggerated look of defeat. "I’m trying not to, but it’s hard, alright? Like, every time I see her on TV or hear her song, I’m just like, ‘Man, she’s unreal.’ And then I have to remind myself to chill because I’m out here looking like a teenager with a crush."

Tara grinned, sensing there was still more to uncover. "Okay, so if she walked in here right now, what would you say to her?"

Eminem froze for a moment, pretending to look panicked before breaking into a laugh. "What would I say? Oh, man. I’d probably embarrass myself. I’d be like, ‘Hey, uh… so… you’re, like, amazing.’ And then I’d just stand there awkwardly, hoping she doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot."

"Come on, you’re Eminem!" Tara said, laughing. "You don’t get nervous around anyone."

"Yeah, well, she might be the exception," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, what do you even say to someone like that? ‘Hey, I think you’re insanely talented and also ridiculously beautiful?’ That’s not smooth at all."

Tara laughed harder, clearly enjoying his rare moment of vulnerability. "I don’t know, Marshall, that might actually work. You never know."

He smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah, or she’d just laugh in my face and walk away. Either way, at least I’d shoot my shot, right?"

The conversation kept circling back to you, with Eminem dropping more compliments, both subtle and bold. "She’s got this energy," he said at one point, leaning forward again. "It’s like, even if she wasn’t singing, you’d notice her. She’s just got that presence, you know? And when you add the voice and the... other stuff, it’s game over. She’s unstoppable."

"Other stuff?" Tara teased, raising an eyebrow.

Eminem grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. "You know what I mean. Don’t make me spell it out. Let’s just say she’s got all the right... proportions."

Tara burst out laughing again, and Eminem shook his head, laughing along with her. "Man, you’re gonna get me in so much trouble for this interview."

"Hey, you’re the one who keeps talking about her," Tara pointed out.

"Yeah, well, can you blame me?" he replied, throwing up his hands. "She’s out here looking like a whole goddess and singing like one too. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking."

By the end of the interview, it was clear Eminem wasn’t holding back his admiration for you. His mix of humor, flirty compliments, and genuine respect for your talent painted a picture of a man completely taken by someone he’d never even met. And as he walked out of the studio that day, still smiling to himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if, somehow, you might hear what he’d said and realize just how much he admired you.

A few days after the interview aired, the buzz around Eminem’s comments about you was everywhere. The media ran with it, headlines speculating about his apparent fascination. Gossip columns played up his flirty statements, and rumors began swirling that the two of you might be secretly seeing each other. Whether it was a playful misinterpretation or intentional exaggeration, the whispers grew louder with each passing day.

Eminem, for his part, didn’t seem to mind the chatter. He wasn’t one to shy away from attention, especially if it wasn’t outright negative. If anything, the rumors amused him.

One afternoon, he was in the studio with Dr. Dre, who had clearly caught wind of the gossip. Dre leaned back in his chair, casually tossing a sly grin his way.

"So, you and the pop princess, huh?" Dre said, the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to miss.

Eminem glanced up from the notebook he’d been scribbling in, his expression neutral but his lips twitching at the corners. "What’re you talking about?"

Dre chuckled, leaning forward. "Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about. That interview? You couldn’t stop talking about her."

"Man, you’re tripping," Eminem shot back, shaking his head but unable to hide the small smirk creeping onto his face.

"Am I?" Dre pressed, raising an eyebrow. "Because half the country thinks you two are sneaking around now. You got people out here thinking you’ve got a whole relationship going on."

Eminem laughed, setting down his pen. "Yeah, well, that’s on them. I said what I said, and they ran with it. It’s not my fault people can’t tell the difference between a compliment and a confession."

"Compliment, huh?" Dre said, his grin widening. "Bro, you were practically drooling over her."

Eminem scoffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "I wasn’t drooling. I just said she’s talented. And, you know... nice to look at. That’s it."

"Uh-huh," Dre replied, clearly not convinced. "Look, I get it. She’s fine, man. Like, stupid fine. But you didn’t just say she’s talented—you made it sound like she’s the second coming or something. I’m just saying, you’re not exactly subtle."

Before Eminem could respond, Proof walked into the room, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Oh, we talking about the pop star now?" he said, grinning as he plopped down on the couch.

Eminem groaned, shaking his head. "Man, don’t you start too."

"Nah, I’m just saying," Proof said, throwing up his hands innocently. "You’re all over the news right now. People out here shipping you two like it’s their job. You might as well lean into it."

"Shipping?" Eminem repeated, furrowing his brow. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means they want y’all to be together," Proof explained, laughing. "And honestly, I can’t blame them. You were laying it on thick in that interview, man. I was watching like, ‘Damn, Em’s really out here catching feelings on national TV.’"

"I wasn’t catching feelings," Eminem shot back, rolling his eyes but unable to hide his grin. "I was just being real. She’s dope, alright? End of story."

"Uh-huh," Proof said, smirking. "You keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, the rest of us are just waiting for the wedding invitations to roll in."

Eminem threw a balled-up piece of paper at him, laughing. "You’re all idiots, you know that?"

Despite the teasing, Eminem didn’t seem bothered by the rumors. If anything, he found the whole situation amusing. He couldn’t deny that he’d been a little extra in the interview, but that was just how he felt. You were undeniably talented and beautiful, and he wasn’t going to downplay that just to avoid some gossip.

As the days went on, the teasing from his friends continued, but Eminem took it in stride. Whenever someone brought it up, he’d either brush it off with a joke or lean into it just to mess with them.

"So, when are you introducing us?" Dre asked one day, clearly enjoying himself.

"Yeah, let us know so we can start practicing our best-man speeches," Proof chimed in, grinning.

Eminem shook his head, smirking. "Y’all are clowns. She probably doesn’t even know I exist."

"Oh, she knows," Dre said confidently. "After that interview? She definitely knows."

Eminem didn’t respond, but the thought lingered in his mind. The idea that you might have heard his interview—or even just heard about it—made his heart race a little, though he’d never admit it. For now, he let the rumors swirl and the teasing roll off his back, secretly enjoying the idea that people thought there might be something between you two.

You were rushing into a bustling studio for your latest photoshoot, clutching your bag and sipping a quick coffee when a familiar voice called out.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), a quick word?"

You turned to see a young interviewer approaching with a mic in hand, their cameraman not far behind. While you were used to being stopped by press, something in the interviewer’s tone suggested they weren’t just here for small talk. Glancing at your team, who gestured that you had a few minutes to spare, you gave a friendly smile.

"Of course," you said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "What’s up?"

The interviewer grinned, clearly eager to dive in. "So, the internet—and every entertainment column—is buzzing right now about Eminem’s recent interview."

Your brow furrowed slightly, though you kept your expression polite. "Oh? What about it?"

"Well," the interviewer began, holding up a notepad for reference. "He had *a lot* to say about you. I’m sure you’ve at least heard a little bit about it. He called you incredibly talented, praised your voice, and let’s just say he didn’t hold back on how stunning he thinks you are."

You blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before a genuine laugh bubbled out of you. "Wait—he said all that? Really?"

"Oh, absolutely," the interviewer confirmed, their grin widening. "And let’s not forget the part where he complimented your... uh, presence. Some are calling it the most flirty Marshall Mathers has ever been in an interview."

You tried to contain your laughter but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. "Well, that’s... unexpected. But also really sweet of him."

"So," they pressed, leaning in slightly. "The world wants to know—what’s your reaction to all of this? Have you heard the interview yourself?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering your response. You didn’t want to feed into the media frenzy too much, but you also couldn’t ignore how flattering it was. "Okay, I’ll admit it—I did hear about it. A couple of friends sent me clips, and I couldn’t not watch it after all the buzz."

"And?" the interviewer prompted, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"And," you said, tilting your head thoughtfully, "I thought it was... really sweet. I mean, to hear someone as big as Eminem say those things about me? That’s a huge compliment. I admire his work so much, so it means a lot."

The interviewer wasn’t satisfied yet—they wanted more. "And what about the more personal comments? You know, about your looks and all?"

You felt your cheeks warm slightly but kept your composure. "Well, he’s not wrong about the confidence thing," you teased, laughing lightly. "But seriously, I think it’s flattering. He was being honest, and that’s refreshing."

"Honest, huh?" The interviewer leaned closer. "So, are you saying you wouldn’t mind hearing more compliments from him?"

You laughed again, shaking your head. "You’re really trying to stir the pot here, aren’t you?"

"Just doing my job!" they replied with a cheeky grin. "But, since we’re on the subject—what do you think of *him*? I mean, everyone’s dying to know if this admiration goes both ways."

You paused, the smile lingering on your lips as you thought carefully about your words. Finally, you decided to give them just enough to keep things interesting. "I think he’s incredibly talented," you said sincerely. "His music has had such a huge impact, and his storytelling is unmatched. You can tell he’s passionate about what he does, and that’s inspiring."

"And what about on a personal level?" the interviewer pressed, clearly fishing for more.

You gave a small shrug, playing coy but letting a hint of playfulness show. "Well... I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think he was kinda cute. But I’ll leave it at that."

The interviewer’s jaw dropped in mock surprise, and they laughed. "Wow! You just made headlines with that one, (Y/N)."

You laughed along, waving it off. "Oh, come on. It’s not that serious. I’m just giving credit where it’s due."

"Fair enough," they said, nodding. "But seriously, you two are all anyone can talk about right now. Any chance we might see a collaboration in the future? Or maybe... something more?"

You raised your hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Hey, who knows? I’m just focused on my music and projects right now. But, you know, never say never."

"Cryptic, I like it," the interviewer replied with a wink. "Well, thanks for stopping to chat, (Y/N). I’m sure Eminem is going to love hearing your response."

You smiled, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "Thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a photoshoot to get to. But this was fun!"

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about the whole situation. Eminem’s words had genuinely caught you off guard, and now, with the media spinning stories left and right, you wondered what he might think of your reaction. For now, though, you pushed the thought aside and focused on your shoot, leaving the rumors—and the excitement they brought—swirling in the air behind you.

Marshall was lounging on the couch at home, the TV playing softly in the background. Hailie, still young and full of energy, sat beside him, doodling on a notepad with a crayon. It was a rare, quiet moment for him, one he cherished.

He wasn’t paying much attention to the TV until your face appeared on the screen. It was a clip from an interview, and the headline below caught his eye: *Pop Star (Y/N) Responds to Eminem’s Comments.*

Intrigued, he turned up the volume, leaning forward slightly. Hailie looked up curiously.

“Daddy, who’s that?” she asked, pointing at the screen.

“That’s... someone,” he muttered distractedly, eyes fixed on the TV.

He watched as you laughed at the interviewer’s question, your voice light and warm. Then, you said it—the part that made his stomach flip.

*"I think he’s kinda cute."*

Marshall blinked, sitting back on the couch, a grin spreading across his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to process what he’d just heard.

“Cute?” he said to himself, chuckling. “She thinks I’m cute?”

Hailie tugged on his sleeve. “Why are you smiling like that, Daddy?”

“No reason, baby,” he replied, though he couldn’t stop grinning.

He reached for his phone, his mind racing. He had to talk to you. Now. But how? He didn’t exactly have your number, and showing up out of nowhere wasn’t his style.

“I gotta figure this out,” he muttered, pulling up Dre’s contact on his phone. If anyone could help, it was him.

“Uncle Dre again?” Hailie asked, giggling.

Marshall smirked, pressing the call button. “Yeah, Uncle Dre again. He’s about to help your dad with something important.”

As the phone rang, Marshall leaned back, tapping his fingers anxiously on the armrest. Whatever it took, he was going to find a way to reach you.<3

#eminem x reader #eminem #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers #slim shady #famous!reader #singer reader

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jobean12-blog · 7 months ago

Note

Up for a little game?🤭🤭

How would you meet:

Mob!Bucky, Vampire!Bucky and/or Barista/Baker!Bucky

And how would they ask you out. Or would you ask them out?

Bloody Kisses

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: Bucky finally makes you his.

Author's Note: SYDNEY! I've had Vampire!Bucky on my mind with all these new pics of him looking so yummy and then you sent this and I was like eeeeeeee here's my sign! So this is how you would meet and he would definitely be the one making all the moves. Vampire AU is an absolute favorite of mine so I can never get enough of it! Thanks so much for thinking of me and sending this little thot in! Hope you've had a lovely weekend and you enjoy this! HUGS!🥰❤️🥰Thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!

Warnings: Bucky is irresistible in every way and he wants you. Mentions of blood, tension, some softness.

You’re mid conversation when you sense the change. It’s as if the stale air has been sucked away and replaced with something more tangible, something seductive.

Natasha’s eyes are focused on whatever is beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the hall.

Everyone around you seems to be looking in the same direction, so you place your drink down and turn.

A man stands just inside the arched doorway, his black jacket draped over his shoulders, the garment fitted perfectly and accentuating their broad width. His long fingers splay against the lush fabric, a gold ring glinting under the light of chandeliers, and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.

“Do you know him?” Natasha asks.

“No,” you breathe out, nearly swaying on your feet. “But I’m going to make sure I get to know him.”

An inexplicable awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. He approaches and your pulse quickens, the urge to run into his arms something you need to fight against.

He wears all black, from his tight-fitted turtleneck down to his shined shoes and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair but his skin, it glows, smooth and soft.

When he walks toward you, he moves with such a sensual purpose that you notice the other women around you swooning.

But he makes no sign that he notices. His eyes stay trained on you, hungry and determined.

Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, savoring the rapid pulse of your blood.

His lips linger there, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before they open and he smiles, turning your hand over to kiss your palm and then finally, each of your fingertips.

“You taste divine,” he whispers.

Your breath catches in your throat at the forwardness of his words.

You barely hear Natasha’s gasp, this man’s very existence consuming your every thought and somehow you know it’s the same for him. He’s oblivious to anything but you.

He speaks his name, hushed and soft along the shell of your ear, before he pulls you away from the crowd.

“Walk with me?” he asks as he leads you toward the glass doors at the back of the room.

You nod and fall into step beside him, taking his offered elbow.

The fragrance of the night hits you the moment you step outside, the lush gardens on the estate in full bloom and the full moon bright and silvery in the dark sky.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” you muse as you look up.

“Mm,” he hums, and you bring your eyes back down, feeling the weight of his stare.

It’s hard to look away and you easily fall deeper into an intimacy that you can’t seem to recover from.

“And yet you shine brighter than any,” he murmurs, tucking you closer and brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

You tremble in his arms, the feeling heady and addictive.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” you ask as you walk deeper into the gardens.

“And yet it’s as if I know your heartbeat better than any melody that has touched my ears.”

You would swoon if you didn’t have the strength of his arms around you, but some part of your head still remains clear enough to say, “that didn’t answer my question.”

He just smiles and plucks a white flower from the nearby plant as you pass it and holds it under your nose.

“It smells amazing,” you whisper.

“Queen of the night,” he explains. “It only blooms under the cover of darkness and often wilts with the rising sun.”

Your mouth dips into a frown as you look down at the beautiful flower. “So, we can never see it bloom in the sun?”

He takes the stem from your hand and tucks it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“No,” he says, tucking two fingers under your chin and bringing your gaze to his. “But the night offers so much to be in love with and yet, never asks for anything but our company.”

You let his words sink in and a small smile teases your lips.

His fingers trace their outline, his touch delicate but completely consuming.

Your lips part with a gasp and you feel his body tense against yours, his gaze wandering over your face and down the delicate column of your neck.

His fingertips fall, slowly tracing the outline of your throat and his thumb presses against your wildly beating pulse.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lifting his dark lashes to look you in the eyes.

“No,” you whisper and press yourself closer.

He releases you and pulls you further down the path, bathing you in the shadowed recesses of the overgrowth of plants.

Your back hits the stone wall, the feel of the cool leaves brushing along your skin.

His features look stronger here in the shadows, hard, thrown into sharp relief under the obscured glow of the moon. His cheekbones resemble carved stone, his eyes dark, his lips lush and exaggerated.

He gives you no time to hesitate, gripping your neck, his palm cool and steady while his thumb presses to the hollow of your throat.

It’s possessive and sends a silent thrill up your spine.

A smart girl would push him away. Pretend she’d rather be somewhere else and run for the safety of the light, the safety of the crowded party. r

Instead, you lift your chin and meet the slight dip of his head, your noses brushing and your breath catching.

“I don’t usually meet men like this,” you say. “I hardly kiss on the first date.”

You swallow and close your eyes, opening them again to find him smiling down at you.

“I know,” he says, unbothered. Undeterred.

He licks his lips before he kisses you, innocent and soft. You moan into the kiss, swallowing his mumbled whispers of praise.

Your skin tingles and a heat builds inside your chest, pushing down into your belly where it pools low, down between your legs. You want him so badly you feel restless and urgent, a need you can’t explain clawing in your throat.

You dig your hands into his hair, holding him to you, barely letting him move a breath away.

But it’s all a ruse. He pulls free of your grip easily, the power he holds undeniable, and looks at you with a passion burning in his eyes.

“I have waited a lifetime for you,” he murmurs against your mouth, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your head falls back against the wall, exposing the soft skin that flutters violently over the flow of your blood.

He kisses softly under your ear, once, twice, and then slides his mouth lower, sucking on your skin until you’re arching into him. The first pierce of his fangs is nothing but euphoria and when he begins to gently suck you cry out his name.

The sip is barely enough to satisfy him and with a great effort he pulls away, lips stained red and blue eyes anchoring yours.

“And all the lifetimes we’ll share will never be enough.”

His words make little sense to you now, your entire existence being slowly devoured by his every touch.

When his large hands grip your hips and he drags you into him again, you go willingly, the sharp sting at your throat setting you ablaze.

This time he doesn’t hold back, drinking you in until your pulse slows, and your eyes begin to dim. You fall limp in his arms, and he gently releases you, trailing a delicate finger along your cheek before he cuts into his wrist and holds it above your parted lips.

“Drink,” he whispers.

You’re weak at first but with his gentle coaxing you suck harder, your strength returning as the taste of his blood moves through you. Revives you.

A feeling like you’ve never experienced before fills all your senses, throbbing in your lips and fingers, in your very skin. And when you meet his eyes once again it’s with new sight, his long fingers reaching up to trace your cheek.

“You,” he whispers, brushing his bloody lips along yours, “are mine for eternity.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #vampire!bucky #vampire!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan #vampire au

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vanesycho · 8 months ago

Note

Could you do where the reader is Recording engineer for Haechan and their dating I thought this would be cute 😭❤️

thank you very much for your request🥺🤍 hope I wrote it as you had in mind, enjoyy🤍

f!recording engineer reader x idol!haechan

wc:0,8k

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You put on your headphones and pressed a few buttons while Haechan prepared his voice in the room and hummed a few melodies. "Okay, let's do a voice test, are you ready?" He laughed and tossed his hair back dramatically "I'm always ready, you don't even have to ask." You rolled your eyes in amusement and waited for him to start. After a few vocal exercises you stopped him. "Can you go a little softer? You don't have to hit the high note yet."

"Okayy!" He gave a thumbs up and took what you said into consideration and started singing.You began to listen to his voice with admiration, a slight smile forming on your face, looking at your smiling face as he finished the first part without any problems. "Was it good?" You pressed the button in front of you and said, "It was better than good." He took off his headphones and said as he left the room "Of course it was better than good, we are talking about me."

He came over and sat down next to you, watching you as you did some sound editing. He looked at how carefully you were looking at the screen and editing it, thinking about how cute you looked with your slightly furrowed eyebrows. He leaned closer to your ear and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder. "I want you to sing it with me." You took your hands off the keyboard and turned to him, “You know I’m bad at singing.” He frowned, pursed his lips and spoke angrily, "No? You sing it very well, and besides, this is my first solo, I want you to take part too..."

You smiled softly and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you for thinking of me baby, but the last thing I want to do is ruin this beautiful song.” He didn’t bother you as you went back to work, you were already halfway through the day with Haechan doing vocal exercises in the background.

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You both let out a tired breath, Haechan looked at you and chuckled, you shook your head saying "What?" And he handed the microphone to you, you spoke as you handed the microphone back to him. "No, don't even think about it." Couldn't help but laugh when he pursed his lips and started talking in a baby voice. "Come on...I promise it won't be in the song, let's just have some fun hm? We're tired enough, pleaseeee?" You let out a breath of exasperation, Haechan’s shouts of joy reaching your ears as you gave up and took the microphone.

You pressed a few things and started the song, Haechan lifted you up from your seat, one hand holding the microphone while he clasped your free hands together. You melted under his gaze as he looked into your eyes with love. He leaned in closer and placed a kiss on your lips before starting to sing. You tried to accompany him as much as you could, even though your voice wasn't very loud at first, you got used to it, with Haechan's help you hummed the music, you both sang it and didn't forget to dance in between.

You sat back down in your seats tiredly, leaning his head back turned to you "It wasn't bad, was it?" You hummed "Yeah it wasn't that bad actually." Haechan rested for a while and gathered your belongings along with his own, grabbed your hand and lifted you up from your place, albeit with force. "Come on baby, let's go home and rest easy." Your feet followed him and left the studio.

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The day you were waiting for had come. Haechan hadn’t come home yet and had told you not to watch the MV without him, but you were fighting with yourself not to press the start button as you stared at the computer in front of you. You couldn't control your own thoughts and started the video, silently apologizing to your boyfriend.

The smile on your face didn't fade while watching the video. You had a perfect boyfriend with his voice, face, everything, but as the MV came to an end, the smile on your face turned into surprise with the unexpected change. You noticed your own voice in the background, he had added a part of the song you had sung in the studio that day and it didn’t even sound as bad as you had expected. "Ah...I told you not to start it without me!"

You turned around in fear, Haechan was looking at you with his arms crossed. "Explain." You stood up and crossed your arms like him as he came to you jokingly. "No, you explain it, you said it wouldn't be in the song." He looked at the MV that was still playing on the computer behind you, then he looked at you. "Did I say that?" You laughed at him playing dumb and punched his shoulder, he laughed and pulled you closer, hugging you tightly around your waist as he whispered into your ear "Be mad at me all you want baby, I don't regret it, your voice is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard in this world."

#nct imagines #nct dream reactions #nct reactions #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream smut #haechan imagines #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan #nct haechan #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff

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fanboyswhore9 · 7 months ago

Text

The Proposal (Pt. 1)~ Sherlock Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill’s version) x Fem! reader

Contains: Henry Cavil, marriage of convenience, childhood lovers, long lost love, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Summary: Childhood friends Sherlock Holmes and the reader were inseparable until she left for boarding school, leaving unresolved feelings between them. Nearly two decades later, she returns to 221B Baker Street with an urgent proposition: to secure her inheritance, she must marry, and she asks Sherlock for help. Unbeknownst to her, Sherlock has harbored feelings for her all along. They confess their love for each other and agree to marry, not just for convenience but out of genuine love.

A/N: THIS IS POSSIBLY THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN ON TUMBLR! This is my first Sherlock fic that I’ve done. I hope I do him justice!❤️❤️❤️❤️

The rain was steady that evening, casting a mist over the streets of London. Inside 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes sat in his armchair, eyes half-lidded, mind lost in a myriad of thoughts as the fire crackled. He hadn’t had a proper case in days, which left him restless, pacing between fleeting memories and idle deductions.

A knock on the door cut through his haze. Sherlock frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late, too late for most visitors, but not impossible. Perhaps Mrs. Hudson was entertaining guests again. He rose, heading to the door, when he heard the knock again—more insistent this time.

When he opened the door, the last person he ever expected to see stood before him, soaked from the rain, her hair damp around her face. “Sherlock,” she breathed, her voice a familiar melody he hadn’t heard in almost two decades.

His breath caught. It was her. The girl from his youth, his best friend, his confidant—until she was whisked away to boarding school, leaving him behind in a cold and silent void that he rarely acknowledged but always felt. She had grown into the woman he imagined she would be: poised, beautiful, but with that same spark in her eyes that always challenged him, intrigued him.

He stepped back to let her in, not trusting his voice just yet. She entered, glancing around at the familiar setting of 221B. “Some things never change,” she said, her lips pulling into a soft smile, though there was an edge of uncertainty there. Wanting to be polite, he asked her, “I know it’s past time, but would you like a cup of tea?” She looked at him nodding gently, “Yes, please. I’d love a cup of tea.” He nods as he starts to brew tea in the kettle.

Sherlock cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the weight of the moment. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t mean for the words to sound so cold, but they came out that way regardless.She looked at him, her expression guarded, then stepped closer. “I need your help, Sherlock.”

“Help?” His curiosity piqued, but there was something else in her eyes. Something more personal. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her coat as she gathered her courage. “I… I’ve come back to London because of my grandmother. She’s ill, Sherlock. She’s… dying.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and for once, it wasn’t merely out of politeness. “She’s left me her fortune, her estate, but there’s a catch.” She glanced away, as if embarrassed to continue. “I have to be married to inherit.” Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “Married?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, her voice tightening. “My parents are pressuring me. They’ve paraded potential suitors in front of me for months, but none of them… none of them understand me.” She took a deep breath, her eyes finally meeting his. “And I really don’t want to marry any of them.” The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Sherlock’s mind was already racing, calculating her reasons for coming to him, searching for the logical thread.

“And you’ve come to me because…?” he asked, though a part of him already knew the answer.“Because,” she said softly, stepping closer, her eyes searching his face, “I don’t want to marry just anyone. I want to marry someone I trust. Someone I care about. Someone I…” She hesitated, her voice breaking slightly. “Someone I love.” Sherlock froze.

The words he never expected to hear from her—yet had longed to hear—hung in the air. For a moment, he was sixteen again, watching her pack her things as she left for boarding school, a thousand words unsaid between them. He had always assumed she moved on, that she forgot about him. But now, here she was, standing before him, offering him not just her trust, but her heart.

“You—” He started, but his voice faltered. His mind, usually so sharp, struggled to find the right words. “I know this is sudden,” she rushed on, her hands trembling slightly, “and maybe it’s foolish. Maybe you’ve moved on, maybe you never thought about me that way. But I had to tell you, otherwise I might regret it for the rest of my life. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Sherlock. And if there’s even the smallest chance that you feel the same…” She trailed off, hope and fear mingling in her eyes.

Sherlock, for once, was at a loss. His emotions, something he kept carefully locked away, threatened to overwhelm him. He had thought of her often over the years, wondered where she was, what she was doing. He had buried his feelings for her, convinced they were pointless, that she was a part of his past he could never reclaim.

But now…

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw with emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. “I—” He paused, the words foreign on his tongue. “I didn’t know how to say it, or if I even should. I assumed… I thought you were happy. That you had your life, your suitors.”She smiled sadly. “I never wanted anyone else.”

Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with possibilities, with unspoken promises. Sherlock, ever logical, ever calculating, found himself making a decision not based on reason but on something far more human.

“Then marry me,” he said simply, his eyes locked on hers. Her breath caught, her eyes widening in surprise. “Sherlock, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, stepping closer until they were mere inches apart. “Marry me. Not for your inheritance, not for your grandmother, but because I can’t bear the thought of you with anyone else.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Yes, Sherlock. Yes.” He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped her face. And for the first time in years, Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, let himself feel.

His eyes, usually so calculating and detached, softened as they locked onto hers. The distance between them seemed to disappear, years of unspoken emotions finally surfacing. His thumb gently traced the line of her cheek, his touch both tender and reverent.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, “for not realizing sooner.”

Before she could respond, Sherlock leaned in, closing the final space between them. His lips met hers in a kiss that was both hesitant and deliberate, as if he was discovering something new but also something long overdue. The kiss was soft at first, slow and searching, but then it deepened, filled with all the feelings they had kept hidden for so long.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, holding him close as she melted into the warmth of his embrace. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in this quiet, intimate moment. His kiss, though unsure at first, soon became sure and steady, filled with the depth of emotion he had kept buried beneath layers of logic and restraint.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the silence. Sherlock’s eyes remained closed for a brief moment longer, savoring the connection, before he finally opened them to look at her. “For you,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion, “I’ll always make an exception.” A soft smile tugged at her lips, her heart swelling at his words. “Then I’ll always be your exception.”

~SHORT TIME SKIP~

A few days had passed since she had shown up at Sherlock’s doorstep with her proposition. The weight of their confession and the whirlwind engagement still felt surreal, but there was no time for hesitation. Arrangements had to be made, and there were still people she needed to see.

That afternoon, she found herself in the grand, stately sitting room of the Diogenes Club, Mycroft Holmes’ preferred sanctuary. He greeted her with his usual aloofness, but there was a subtle curiosity in his eyes as they exchanged pleasantries.

“My brother is not one for sentiment,” Mycroft said, swirling a glass of brandy as he studied her, “but you seem to have managed what few others could.” His words were clipped but not unkind. “It’s rather remarkable.” She smiled, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I didn’t come here expecting him to say yes. But I know Sherlock, and I believe this is right for both of us.”

Mycroft gave her a small, approving nod. “You’ve always had a peculiar influence on him. I suppose if anyone can make sense of this arrangement, it’s you.” Before she could respond, the door opened, and a young woman with wild curls and a sharp, curious look in her eyes entered the room. Enola Holmes, Sherlock and Mycroft’s little sister, stepped in with an air of confidence. It was the first time they’d met, though she had heard much about Enola’s independent and rebellious nature.

Enola glanced between her and Mycroft, her expression caught between surprise and amusement. “So, you’re the one who’s finally going to tie Sherlock down,” she said, half-teasing, half-curious. She let out a soft giggle and smiled, amused by the younger woman’s boldness. “It seems so.” Enola stepped forward, her curiosity obvious. “I must say, I’m impressed. Sherlock’s never shown much interest in anything besides his cases. You must be quite extraordinary.”

“Not as extraordinary as you, Enola. Sherlock speaks highly of you,” she replied warmly, and that seemed to catch Enola off guard. Enola smiled, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Well, you’ve certainly earned my respect. Anyone who can handle Sherlock is worthy of admiration.”

As the girls exchanged more pleasantries, she felt a sense of warmth from Enola, a feeling of acceptance, even if it came with a bit of Holmes skepticism. It felt like the final piece of her integration into Sherlock’s life, meeting both Mycroft and Enola, and earning a place in the family dynamic that was uniquely theirs.

Later that evening, in the quiet of Sherlock’s flat at 221B Baker Street, she sat at his desk and wrote a letter to her family. Her parents, grandmother, and sister needed to be informed, though she was sure the news would spread quickly once the engagement was made official.

Dearest Mother, Father, Grandmother, & my dear Sister,

I write to you with news I never expected to share. After years of distance & time apart, I have returned to London & reunited with Sherlock Holmes. Our connection, though it was once left in the past, has rekindled, & I am pleased to inform you that I am now engaged to be married to him.

I know this news may come as a surprise, but please understand that this decision was made with great care and certainty. Sherlock has always held a special place in my heart, & I believe that this union will be one of love, companionship, & understanding.

Sister, I especially want you to know how much I look forward to you being by my side through this, & I can’t wait to tell you everything in person.

I will return home soon to speak with you all in person & explain further. In the meantime, know that I am happy and excited for what lies ahead.

With all my love,

Your daughter and sister

She sealed the letter, her heart feeling lighter as she prepared to send it. The wheels were in motion now. Everything was becoming real. Soon, her family would know, and the life she was about to build with Sherlock was just beginning.

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