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disneyprincemuke · 4 months ago

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randomantic * op81

it's just oscar being randomly romantic, because that's the type of person you make him

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

notes: noelle don't write an oscar fic that's not entirely filled with silliness and nonsense fluff challenge

(f1 masterlist)

you close your eyes and suck in a deep breath. you stand at your front door, having just inserted your key into it. you let out a shaky breath as you stare down at the door knob.

you’ve just had what felt like the longest day in a while. it feels like nothing has gone right for you at all — it’s so overwhelmingly irritating. you just know that the smallest thing will set you off and on the other side of this door is the most loving and doting man you’ve ever met in your life.

a man who doesn’t seem to have had a bad day in years, always donning a wide smile on his face with a composure you could only wish you had. you don’t want him to be the scapegoat that gets the brunt of your bad day.

you compose yourself with one last deep breath before unlocking the door. you try to sport a small grin as you push the door open. “i’m home.”

oscar’s grin meets you right at the kitchen door, leaning against the door frame as he wipes his hand on a towel. “i was wondering when you would come inside — i heard you fumbling with your keys a few minutes ago.”

“oh,” you try to laugh it off as you kick your shoes off and walk over to him, “i was trying to recall if i’d forgotten something at work.”

which, now that you think of it, is very possible. did your water bottle ever make it into your bag before you left the office?

“you’re back there in a couple of days,” oscar mutters, arms spread wide as you walk further into your apartment, “if not, i’ll go over and pick it up for you.”

he wraps you into a tight and firm hug, making you feel relieve, even if it was just a little. he grabs either side of your cheek and mushes his lips onto yours. “i made us dinner.”

you hum and furrow your brows as he takes your hand to lead you in. “what? but it’s my turn to make dinner.”

oscar shrugs with a small smile. he looks over his shoulder and gives you a quick wink. “i was feeling inspired.”

you almost burst into tears when the dining table comes into view — two plates with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers on the clean table. you’d been wrecking your brain for dinner options tonight. you’d considered ordering in, but it’s oscar’s crunch time right before the season so he has to watch his diet.

“do you like it?” oscar beams, puffing his chest proudly. he grabs the bouquet and reaches out to you. “and some flowers — we can’t have a date without that.”

“i love it, oscar,” you smile, reeling him in to press a kiss on his lips. “thank you so much.”

you wake up alone in your bed. oscar had an early morning, heading into a busy day.

you briefly remember sitting up for 5 seconds, long enough for him to give you a quick kiss and a tight hug before bidding you goodbye. though you wish you’d have woken up slightly earlier or stayed awake for longer to be with him.

you feel a sense of dread at the empty day ahead of you, working from home in an empty house is daunting for the week you’re having. you can almost tell how much you wouldn’t get done at all with the pit in your stomach and the numbness at your fingertips.

you wanted to send him a text, asking him to take the day off and come home to be with you. but you refuse to be that person.

you can’t simply ask your busy boyfriend to drop his obligations just to spend time with you because you’re a little under the weather. it’s not always about you.

sighing, you turn over to face oscar’s side of the bed. you pull the blankets around your body a little tighter.

you flinch at the stuffed bunny sitting upright, probably put there by oscar before leaving, with a bright orange post-it loosely stuck to its paw.

‘good morning, my love :)’

you smile. these little post-it’s are rare to find during this off-season, but they are always appreciated wherever they are.

the good morning note, however, is a first. oscar’s made a habit of leaving a few as reminders for you for days that he has to separate from you at the crack of dawn. they are often sweet, usually just reminders, but always in such a loving manner. how he manages to make simple post-it reminders sound so thoughtful, you’ll never know.

when you make it to the kitchen, there’s another stuck to the door of the fridge.

‘left some documents behind and had to u-turn. i got you breakfast on my drive back <3 fridge, second shelf’

you open the fridge and sure enough, there’s a sandwich with a cup of iced coffee sitting pretty on the second shelf. there’s another post-it.

‘eat well, pretty’

you proceed to eat breakfast with the biggest grin on your face.

oscar walks into the room, in the midst of dressing up for his busy day. you’re sitting by the edge of the bed, slouched as you type away on your phone. probably answering some emails before you head right back to sleep.

he grins to himself and creeps across the bed over to you. when he realises you hadn’t acknowledged his presence, he softly hums and gently presses his lips on your bare shoulder. his other arm is slung over your stomach as he pulls you in.

“what’s got my girl so busy this morning?” he hums against your skin, reluctantly pulling you back down to lie with him in bed. “it’s too early for you to be up.”

you groan and throw your head back, throwing your arms back. “answering a silly important email that was sent at 3am.”

“ridiculous,” he mutters. he tightens his arms around you and sigh. “i wish i could lay in bed with you all day. i’ll miss you today.”

“i’ll miss you too. i hate working from home when you’re not around.” you wiggle in his arms to face him, grabbing the sides of his face. “i should shrink myself so you could put me in your little pocket.”

he laughs at the absurdity of your idea. though, he doesn’t entirely hate it. he leans forward and nudges your nose with his. “i told you: quit your job. follow me around all day — i promise i’ll treat you like a princess.”

oscar jokes about this often: getting you to quit your job so you could simply be by his side all the time. while it sounded fun and relaxing, it simply is never as easy as just quitting and being his fulltime wag that watched him in the garage every weekend.

it’s just not a life that sounds like it would be for you at all.

“don’t be silly,” you whisper. you nuzzle your face into his shoulder with a soft sigh. “i can’t just do that.”

“ah, i know.” he squeezes your hips, thinking of a way he could somehow manipulate his day into ending earlier. perhaps there’s something he could forgo so he can come home earlier to you? maybe he’ll skip the gym and go tomorrow instead. “you know what?”

you hum, “what?”

“let’s go for a fancy dinner outside tonight,” oscar giggles. “i’ll call in for a reservation, okay? just show up and i’ll take care of the rest.”

you raise an eyebrow. it’s not that you don’t often go on dates with oscar in a week. in fact, you would love to argue that you and oscar go on more dates than an average couple does.

this week just feels different. perhaps you’re just having a worse week than usual. you start to wonder if he can tell that you’re having a hard week.

“are you sure? aren’t you busy?”

“never for you,” oscar smiles. “so, i’ll pick you up at 7, okay?”

not a lot of people could have guessed that oscar is one of the biggest perpetrators of hogging a karaoke mic.

your week has finally ended, and oscar has dragged you along to a small outing with his group of friends for a quick hang out before the season starts. you don’t even remember who suggest the thought of renting a room to do some karaoke; could have been fred, or maybe even oscar himself.

“oh, man,” logan throws his arms into the air when a familiar beat comes on. he holds his head in his hands in defeat. “who let him have the mic?”

“i swear i didn’t let him queue this many songs!” fred defends himself with a soft cry, pointing at the central machine in front of him. “they’re all love songs too!”

his friends’ groans echo in the room as oscar picks up the mic proudly. he puts his cocktail down on the table in the centre of the room before he turns over to you, sly smile and the mic pointed over at you. “this one’s for my beautiful girlfriend.”

logan scowls. “gross.”

“shut the fuck up,” oscar mutters, before walking over to you. he holds a hand out to you and grins. “don’t mind them, they’ve just never been loved the way you love me. get up, you’re the lucky girl i get to serenade for the rest of our lives.”

fred scoffs, a hand over his chest. “okay, ouch.”

@foreveralbon

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1

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sqgeism · 2 months ago

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ive been reading too many domestic fics lately

sage...*gets on knees and bows head in utmost reverence*

domesticity with the amphoreus men. A NORMAL DAY IN THE LIFE. THERE'S TOO MUCH ANGST. MAKE THE PAIN GO AWAY I BEG OF THEE.

lots of love,

ri.

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 i don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

🍒 — ᥫ᭡ i just wanna be a part of your family . the world is kinder when i close my eyes and pretend all of it isn't on fire.

love mail — ⨾ hiii ri anaxa's #1 dove fr 👰‍♂️ i stopped writing vamp anaxa to LOCK IN. no more angst for oomfs.. only happiness 🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️ (lying) rly quick sorry ri ily 🥀

anaxagoras isn't domestic.

he isn't domestic when he wakes up a little earlier than you, making sure to kiss your forehead before getting out of bed, moving the alarm you set to five more minutes since you don't want to get up too early.

surely, it isn't domestic when he makes you your preferred beverage in the morning—or a different breakfast each time for you to try. or when he had brought home your favorite snacks on the way home from the academy for you to eat later when he's gone. not at all, it's just all too sweet for the prickly professor.

and when he serves you breakfast in bed, turning off the alarm he had adjusted to instead wake you with loving kisses to your face, it isn't supposed to be interpreted as an intimate gesture, no way. "morning." anaxa whispers softly, the faintest smile gracing his lips as he watches your eyelids slowly flutter open. titan, your eyes had to be inspired by the finest of jewels when the gods were making you. simply gorgeous.

anaxa tries to make mornings as special as possible, knowing he'll be gone for hours once he walks through that door and comes home late again, to his dismay. he'd take care of you all throughout the day if he could.

don't.. don't call it domestic though.

it isn't.

anaxa will do anything but call it that </3

to say mydei yearned—that he ached and bled for this life—is an understatement.

titan forbid a man wants to scream about how much he loves his partner and the life they have together, that he loves waking up to you playing with his hair or tracing his marks. it's then followed by his home gym routine, and if you choose to join him or not—he hopes you at least stay.

if you do, he likes to talk about health and different routines he wants to try and if you're interested. if not, he likes it if you stick around and do your own thing. maybe read or some work? but stay close by, please, you're his motivation.

all meals are to be cooked by prince of castrum kremnos and prince of castum kremnos only, but if you'd like for takeout or a fancy restaurant (or he made plans), he's happy to do so! but cooking is a biiig love language for him, definitely used it to impress your friends and family. it makes him feel like a little boy getting praised whenever you tell him that your family wants him to cook something for them, he's just the happiest!

and kids, oh they're the dream. but he doesn't mean they have to be human kids, pets work too! they're basically kids, no? he just.. he wants to care for something, someone. he loves you so much but he also has so much love to give to the world too </3 agh hes such a sweetheart im sorry

he loves you because you're his last, he knows it. youre his heart and soul and he's surrendered every part of his being to you. his heartbeat is the same as your laughter and his eyes can only ever reflect you. he hopes he can give back even just a fraction of all the happiness you make him feel.

phainon is so painfully enamored with his domestic life he completely forgets he's supposed to be a warrior sometimes.

he thinks he's the luckiest man in the universe to see you when you just wake up, when you're still drowsy and trying to snuggle into his chest further, not wanting to get up.. an absolute goner. he's a 'weak' man (for you), all he needs is your sweet words to tell him to do something and he's all yours.

he likes it when you take care of him, considering how hard he works. phainon is a provider at heart but to be dote on is very very nice, who says no to kisses and sweet words from their angel anyway? absolutely not phainon. he'll HAPPILY take your attention away from the world, not like it needs it. the world has him, and he has you.

you're the one thing he doesn't have to share, to sacrifice (HOPEFULLY!!!!), and he doesn't ever want to lose sight of that fact. that no matter how much he goes through, he has someone waiting for him back at home. and they'll be expecting his arms around him before they sleep, whispering sweet nothings and look forward to waking up to have it all to themselves all over again.

and maybe that's why you two work so well together, the fact that you'll only ever be selfish with each other.

#ㅤ 𐔌᭥ᩙ༉ㅤnew flower bloomed ! :ೃ࿔𔓘 #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #anaxagoras x reader #anaxa x reader #mydeimos x reader #mydei x reader #phainon hsr x reader #phainon x reader

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desert--moonchild · 10 days ago

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There are fingers trailing through his hair.

Softly and steadily, trying to wake him from his NyQuil induced slumber— or lull him in deeper into sleep he couldn’t quite tell as they started massaging the side of his head right above his ear where the pain was the worst.

He let out a low hoarse hum as it helped relieve some of the worst of the sinus pressure.

“Hey… how are you feeling?”

Tommy blinked open his eyes to see Evan smiling softly in front of him.

“Ev—” He turned his head so he didn’t cough directly into his boyfriend’s face. “What… what are you doing here?” He asked hoarsely.

“Lucy texted me,” Evan said, his fingers still steadily drifting through his hair. Tommy closed his eyes again with a hum. “Said that you went home sick.”

It was less that he went home and more that he was forced to go home after a coughing fit that had everyone in the hangar wincing in sympathy all while taking aa big step away from him.

He let out a pathetic cough he couldn’t stop.

“Sorry, I sort of just… barged in, but you weren’t answering your phone and I…” Evan sighed. “You didn’t sound like you were feeling great last night either.”

“Gave you th’key f’r reason,” Tommy mumbled and rolled closer to Evan. They’d only officially been back together for about a month now but Evan still knocked every time he showed up. “Glad y’used it.”

Evan let out quiet laugh mindful of headache. “Yeah well… I brought you soup. It’s in the crockpot so it’ll be ready to go whenever you’re up to it.”

The bed shifted below him, and Evan’s lips felt cool and pleasant against his forehead.

“I can go if you’d rather just sleep. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Tommy cracked his eyes back open, his hand snapping out to hook around Evan’s wrist. Evan looked exhausted, his hair was a wild mess of curls and their were dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t quite left him since Bobby…

A small careful smile spread over his face, and the hand that Tommy didn’t have captured went back into his hair, a weakness of his that Evan had pegged over a year ago when they had started dating the first time around.

“Stay?” He asked.

“If you want me to.”

“I do,” Tommy nodded. He coughed harshly and Evan held out a water bottle with a straw that hadn’t been there when he’d first gone to sleep.

“Then I’ll stay,” Evan smiled.

He helped Tommy sip at the water and sat him up to give him some more cough medicine before changing out of his clothes and slipping under the sheets next to him, pulling Tommy over his chest to rest comfortably.

“S’rry ‘bout date,” Tommy said with a wheezing breath. They were supposed to go to some new restaurant tonight that Evan had been excited for. It was also why he’d forced himself to stay at work for as long as he did— if he didn’t admit he was sick then he wasn’t sick. It’d been working until his lungs had something to say about the face full of exhaust fumes he got hit with in the maintenance hangar.

“Don’t worry about it,” Evan said, his fingers trailing back through his hair, pausing briefly to kiss the top of his head. “It’ll still be there when you feel better.”

He was well on his way to sleep, his breathing easier than it’d been all night with Evan propping him up and breathing slowly beneath his cheek.

“I love you.” Evan whispered, with another kiss and his arm secured around him tight.

“Love y’u too.” Tommy sighed and drifted off.

is this my make me writes? no. is this a new chapter to any of the ongoing WIPs i have going on? also no.

it is however, a little ficlet prompt that @bucktommyyendgame gave me mooooonths ago... remember earlier when i said i found writing i had no memory of?? turns out i DID start your lil prompt 🤪

for Sarah who's been a very good friend to me for over a year now 🤍

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #more of a ficlet #tommy kinard #evan buckley #my writing #nothing fancy just finally doing something sarah asked of me lol #ficlet

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goldenstring6123 · 1 year ago

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HIIIYAAAYAYA I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH AND I LOOK FORWARD TO EVERY SINGLE PIECE YOU RELEASE!!! YOU HAVE ME CHECKING YOUR PAGE 24/7 IM OBSESSEDDD 🫦🫦 ANYWHO ignore my fawning but how do you think the lads boys would react to a suuuuper clingy gf??? idk but if i were mc i would NOT be leaving their side and would literally be glued onto their body like mc is a strong soldier for resisting (especially rafayel my HUSBAND 😩) literally wanna just curl up in their lap and carve myself into their ribcage so they can never escape from me tehe. ALSOOO U DON’T GOTTA RESPOND IF UR BUSY OR UNCOMFY!!!! JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITING 🫶🫶

Lnds: Sticky little lover

Warning: vaguely suggestive, mentions of hickeys, fem!reader, clingy!reader, reader may or may not be the mc, there might be spelling mistakes, I haven't proofread yet.

Author's note: Awieee thank u sm pookie! I understand the feeling of wanting to latch onto the LIs~

Zayne:

Zayne wakes up with you on his chest, your leg over his crotch, and your arm across his stomach. To him, you were like a weighted stuffed toy and a weighted blanket, all at the same time. He wasn't complaining; maybe it was an excuse to stay in bed for another half an hour.

The bathroom is big enough for the two of you, with two wash basins, a separate shower, and a bathtub. There are three bathrooms in the house, but you always choose the one he uses. He's complained once, but you said you didn't like the interior design of the others. Side by side, you brush your teeth and comb your hair while he shaves and flosses. If you wake up earlier than usual, maybe he'll let you moisturize and exfoliate his face. It's no surprise Zayne leaves the bathroom door open for you. It's just normal for both of you to cross paths in the large bathroom.

When he leaves for work, you never miss a day to kiss his nose and give him a quick peck. You embrace him with two arms, but he hugs you back with one, the other hand holding his bag. You don't mind.

Your message gallery is filled with pictures of your mundane life: a snapshot of a book you're reading, the new coffee you tried, the little teacup Maltese that reminded you of him. Even though he's busy, he always finds time to react, and if he doesn't, he brings up the picture when you pick him up at the end of the day. He never forgets.

Calm days are spent in each other's presence. You always cling to him in one way or another. While he's reading a book, your feet are on his lap, and his fingers unknowingly knead your ankles. While watching a movie, your shoulders touch, and your hands are intertwined. When you react to the film, his hand, still holding yours, follows your movements.

Dates are always fun. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do as long as Zayne's in your company. Cafe dates are cute, but Zayne always calls you out for staring at him with a weird look in your eyes—you were admiring him. Whenever you walk, you cling to him, wrapping yourself around his forearm while playfully weighing him down. He stumbles for a second but smiles.

You love leaving hickeys on him, even bite marks if he allows, but the rule is never above the collar of his shirt. You oblige 97% of the time. The other 3%, you sneak in a light hickey that passes off as a mosquito bite, just peeking through the collar of his dress shirt. Sometimes, there's one behind his ear, barely visible. He never knows, but the doctors and patients at the hospital do.

When you're apart, you always call him and go about your day. At night, you video call and try to stay awake, only to snooze off. Zayne chuckles at your attempts to wash the tiredness away, but sometimes, he falls asleep with you. In the morning, both of your phones end up overheating and out of battery.

Zayne loves your company, to others it may seem trouble some but with you, it was adorable. It's through your clingyness that he experiences feelings he never once did before, and those little things always brighten his day. You actions with him makes him feel more loved and he knows he has a hard time expressing them but with you around, it had become more and more easier.

Rafayel:

They say opposites attract, but you and Rafayel are the universal exception.

Rafayel doesn't like it when you're late. Even for a home-date, he fusses about being left alone too long and feeling abandoned. You laugh at his whining over text and enter his door. When he sees you, he jumps off the couch and pouts, "Finally, it took you long enough."

You're like magnets to each other. Wherever one goes, the other follows. If you're cooking ramen in the kitchen, Rafayel sneaks behind you, hugging your back and sniffing your hair. If he's watering flowers in the greenhouse, you sit nearby and watch a ladybug on a leaf. If he's painting, you're reading on a nearby couch. Rafayel's residence is too big for one person but just enough for two.

Rafayel whines when you do something without him, especially if it's something he wants to do. You once took a flower arrangement class without him, and he sulked, "Wow, you didn't even think to tell me? I wanted to do that with you." Even watching movies is hard because you need to pause and wait for him whenever he leaves the room. One time, you finished a mystery series without him, and he ate the tiramisu you were saving for dessert in revenge.

Matching clothes is a thing. He avoids tacky prints but opts for complementary outfits. Because of this, Rafayel buys clothes with you in mind, often choosing items with a feminine counterpart. His shoe closet and yours are practically the same, and you don't complain because Rafayel has good fashion taste.

You love cute matching items. You once bought a two-piece mug set with a heart design, and he took the other one without you knowing. He also took a keychain from your collection, matching the one you have in your wallet.

"Are you tired of me now?" he asks when you keep your distance, avoiding a hug. It's the middle of summer, and the AC is broken. You reek of sweat, and the last thing you want is to be touched. You sigh and pat his back, "After I take a bath, I'll give you all the hugs you want."

He asks about your plans every morning, almost as a ritual. You've gotten used to replying while getting ready. If both schedules permit, he joins you for grocery runs, laundry, or whatever mundane tasks you have. You make good use of him, letting him carry the bags even if you could do it yourself.

When Rafayel is at an exhibit, you bombard him with texts: jokes, articles, or random thoughts. He replies quickly, hiding from the audience, bored out of his mind. In return, he sends you pictures of his artwork, which you threaten to sell online as digital files. He blocks you for a good five minutes.

You're each other's wallpaper. Surprisingly, Rafayel asked to do it. You spent hours finding the perfect pose and recreating trending ones. Rafayel insisted on multiple retakes.

You were rafayel's missing piece. To him, you were the only thing that he has ever wanted in his life. He loved you dearly and a part of him was terrified that you don't reciprocate the same level of love as he does to you; but lo and behold, fate has given him a blessing after all those years of loneliness. His heart swoons at the very sight of your actions. You were clingy, that was factually true but the same goes for him. Nothing makes him more fulfilled than seeing you both think and love in the same wavelength.

Sylus:

His base has become your home. On days off, you often find yourself in one of three rooms: his bedroom, where you lie on his bed, tapping away on your phone or laptop; his kitchen, where the chef cooks whatever you want in exchange for listening to his stories from his little village; or the lobby, where Luke and Kieran update you on the most boring things in the building. Sylus doesn't mind at all; it's less work for Mephisto, and he can keep an eye on you.

Sylus's sleep schedule is the same as that of those in Linkon City. His days begin in the evenings, often leaving you lying in the big bed alone. Sylus is nearby or at his desk if he's not out on the streets. You like hugging his pillow because it smells like his 3-in-1 shampoo. If he's out on late-night trips, you selfishly steal his shirt from the closet, wear it on the pillow, and hug that to sleep, forcing yourself to be satisfied with what you got.

His lap is your chair. It doesn't matter where he's sitting; you always find yourself on him. Sylus sometimes complains about his thighs going numb, but when you leave, he yanks you back, positioning you between his legs, with your butt on the chair instead of his thigh. He goes back to his work as if nothing happened, occasionally sparing you a kiss on the forehead or rubbing his face against yours. If not, you shower his chest and neck with light pecks before snuggling into the crook of his neck.

His biceps are nice to the touch. On dates to the city, while waiting in line, you squeeze his muscles for entertainment, even through his thick leather jacket. He flexes for a minute before relaxing, amused at how easily you entertain yourself.

The boyfriend shirt phenomenon is common. You don't leave the base wearing his clothes, but you certainly walk around the area in them. Whether a turtleneck, a black blouse, or just a plain shirt, you're always wearing his clothes, even in his company.

You're an eccentric one, thats for sure. Sylus never truly got ahold of how you managed to change from being so distant to practically being glued to him. It was like he partnered up with a whole new different person. He wasn't complaining at all if anything, he found it admirable and a part of him was quietly relieved that time did all the adjusting between you and him. Despite being a bit too fussy at times, he'd be more than willing to compromise if that's what makes you happy.

Xavier:

You always steal his hoodies. They're big, soft, and smell like him, so you have two or three at home. Xavier scratches his head when he notices bare hangers in his closet. When you visit, he finally sees what's missing. No matter how many hoodies and jackets he buys for you, you always get your hands on his, almost becoming a problem. Now, he rotates his jackets, giving them to you on schedule.

Xavier's hair is too soft to be human. When he's on your lap, you massage his scalp and fidget with the ends of his silver hair. If you have hair elastics and a cute clip nearby, he ends up with his hair tied up or braided. He needs your help to take it off because it's too painful for him to do alone. Oops?

You prefer sitting beside him rather than across from him at a table. He didn't understand at first because he wanted to face you when eating. But when he's beside you, he slowly gets it. You like touching him one way or another. You enjoy your elbows touching or your thighs grazing each other. It's also convenient to lean slightly and rest your head on his shoulder.

Xavier loves bathing with you. The bathtub in his apartment is big enough for both. He likes the smell of your bath bombs and is sometimes fascinated by the toys or mini jewelry inside. Your back always presses against him, and he willingly holds you. On more stressful days, you light candles and open some cheap wine to enjoy in rose-covered water.

He's riddled with bite marks, even when not having sex. He's dozing off when you suddenly find his arm or leg appetizing. He jolts awake and tries to shake your grip, but it's too tight. When you've had enough, he stares at your work of art and wipes his saliva-coated limb. You grin, watching him wipe your fluids. Because of the frequency, he rarely lets his consciousness drift away when his bare arms and legs are around you.

When bathing alone, you use his shampoo instead of yours. It's surprising he doesn't use all-in-one shampoo and body wash; he uses baby shampoo. When confronted, he shrugs, saying it does the job, and recalls you like playing with his hair. His perfume and powder are also for babies.

In the eyes of Xavier, you were adorable even if your actions were questionable. You were cute, and he never once thought that your actions were a burden or suffocating. The things you do, the way you speak they were all precious in his eyes and Xavier understands that this was you way of showing your love for him. Because of that, he tolerates you every time you bite him.

Your gallery is full of his pictures. Candid photos you secretly take daily. Your favorite is when his cheeks are full of food, resembling a hamster. You take pictures when he's asleep, using you as a pillow. Sometimes, you're both looking at the camera, making random faces.

Author footnotes: I'm sorry if these were pretty general. I'm not the clingy type so I don't know how these type of people act but I wrote it with the things I observed from films and tiktok lol

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

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blackbat05 · 6 months ago

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Detour

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: A little detour to the Children’s Hospital forms the start of a new relationship. (This takes place after Joaquin’s stint in the hospital)

Genre: Fluff, PG-13

A/N: Had serious brain rot trying to write? Loads of things happening at work and felt that I was just bed rotting whenever I came back home so very glad that I wrote this piece and try to do something creative. Hope you enjoy!

“Thanks for letting me tag along.” Joaquin steps out of the car, helping Sam with the bags stowed in the trunk.

“The kids will be happy to see you,” Sam dismisses his thanks. “They always love new faces. Besides, you could use that fresh air after being stuck in the hospital for two weeks.”

Joaquin grimaces at the memory as the two men amble into the entrance of the children’s hospital.

A bespectacled woman with traces of white in her hair greets Sam warmly before leading them down the sanitized halls.

“The kids are just finishing their story-time with Y/N.” They reach an automated sliding door that opened with a slide of the woman’s keycard.

“Thanks Doreen. We’ll take it from here.” Sam picks up the large bag of board games and toys they had picked up earlier from the shop.

Joaquin follows and is instantly greeted by intricate murals painted on the bookshelves. Children books of every imaginable size and color were shelved neatly in their respective places. He can’t help but to marvel at the sheer number of books in this place.

“So, if you’re not careful and you leave the book right beside your bed…” A voice could be heard up ahead. Joaquin sees a female volunteer holding a red book in her hands, at the centre of attention. The children dressed in their gowns, listening with rapt attention.

“It might just wake up and… EAT YOU!” She opens and closes the book, mimicking a ravenous monster, eliciting laughter from the audience and appreciative smiles from parents and guardians alike. Joaquin finds himself smiling too.

“Maybe if I give it some fries, the book won’t eat me!” A little girl with pigtails pipes up.

Joaquin locks eyes with the woman. “Well, that is a food for thought - no pun intended!” She stands up, “I’m sorry to cut this short but I believe Mr Captain America and Mr Falcon themselves are here!”

This immediately gets the kids attention again and excited squeals could be heard all around. Sam, charming as ever, takes over effortlessly with tiny bodies surrounding the two men.

Lunch arrives and the crowd eventually thins out with a couple of stragglers taking photos with Sam and Joaquin. Joaquin gives a stuffed Falcon to a little boy who was adorable and affectionate, giving one last hug before saying goodbye.

“You made his day.” The same female volunteer approaches Joaquin with bottled water. “I’ve never seen Luis so happy before.”

“I didn’t do much. You’re the one doing all the work. Reading to them, showing them different worlds.” Joaquin downplays the praise.

“I take it that you’re a bookworm?”

“When I have time. Saving the world can get quite hectic.”

“Don’t I dare doubt it.”

Joaquin grins, courage growing a little bigger. “Y/N right? You work here? I didn’t see you when I was warded in the hospital.”

“I work at the Children’s library three stops from here.” You explain. “Doreen is a close friend and mentor of mine. I wanted to do something for these children so here I am.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

“Not as amazing as saving the world from another World War.”

Joaquin can’t help but to notice Sam over Y/N’s shoulder. Needless to say, he did not like the googly eyes that the Captain was teasing him with.

“Are you always here?”

“Every Friday, just before lunch.” She affirms, though curious at Joaquin’s question. His throat is suddenly dry as the Sahara Desert but he has to try. What’s the worse that could happen right?

“Cool. Uh… Are you free now? Do you want to grab-”

Before Joaquin could finish his sentence, Sam comes running over. Phone blinking in his hand. That could only mean…

“S.H.I.E.L.D wants a briefing in twenty. Hostage situation.” Sam mutters.

The world is fucking with him right now. It took Joaquin all his energy not to groan. Instead, he plasters what he believes to be an easy going “everything is ok” face.

“I’m free next week.” You finish off for him much to his surprise.

“Go save the world soldier.”

***

“Does this plane go any faster?”

“What’s got your pants in a twist?” Sam comes out from the cockpit. “It’s that girl isn’t it? The one at the Hospital! Miss Librarian!”

“Her name is Y/N.” Joaquin looked up to Sam but he was not in the mood for being teased.

“Ooooh someone’s in loveeeee!”

“You know, for someone who’s the face of our country, you’re obnoxiously childish.” Joaquin retorts.

“Don’t you know me by now?” Sam laughs. “Seriously though, you really like her huh?”

“Yeah… I know it’s weird but… the way she was with the kids?” Joaquin trails off, unsure of himself. “I just hope she’s still there. Though I can’t blame her if she isn’t. You know, the sacrifices of being a hero.”

Sam frowns at the familiar words he had said to Joaquin years earlier while the young soldier took over the role of the Falcon.

The Captain gets up from his seat and heads to the cockpit.

“Hey Carlos! I need you to speed this up a little, our man here has a date he can’t miss.”

***

“How do I look?” Joaquin steps out with a clean set of hoodie and jeans.

“Like you clean up well.” Sam affirms as the plane prepares for landing. “Go get her Falcon.”

Joaquin starts the bike that was prepared for him, speeding towards the hospital. He really hopes that she’s still there - though the hope is shrinking by the minute.

He seamlessly parks his bike, not wasting a second as he sprints inside, nearly running over a bemused Doreen.

“Woah there! Hold your horses cowboy, she’s in there.”

Joaquin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Doreen gives a knowing smile as she bids Joaquin good bye, leaving him to enter the hospital reading room.

At the sight of her, his breath hitches and Joaquin feels rooted to the ground. He digs up every ounce of courage, heart thumping wildly against his chest.

“Y/N!”

She looks up from her book, eyes lit up at the sight of the solider. Joaquin could get used to this. “Hey solider.”

“I’m so sorry, we had to make a detour.”

“Duty calls, am I right?” She teases. “I got us some tacos. Figured you’ll be too tired to get to another place.”

“I could kiss you right now.” Joaquin blurts out. “Not that if you don’t want to- oh what am I saying!”

Y/N giggles at Joaquin’s goofy nature. “Let’s eat. The tacos are getting cold.”

Despite having tacos in a hospital, the two enjoyed each other’s company, engrossed in conversation.

“Thanks for the amazing company, Joaquin. Unfortunately, work beckons. I have to head back for closing.”

As the two pack in silence, Joaquin fights an internal battle in his head.

Just ask her already god damn it! You’re a superhero for goodness sake!

What if she thinks I’m weird?

Now or never Torres.

“Would you like to-”

“Wait sorry, you go.”

“No you!”

The two burst into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“I really enjoyed today.” Joaquin says sincerely. “I know my schedule is really messed up and all, but if you’re free again, I know this really mean pizza place.”

“You had me at pizza.” Y/N doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Joaquin does a mini dance in his head. “So that means it’s a date?”

Before Y/N could respond, a little voice pipes up from the entrance.

“Say yes Miss Y/N!”

Little Luis was peeping in along with Sam who had a shit eating grin on his face. Although Joaquin knew he was probably never going to hear the end of this, he didn’t care in this moment with the wonderful woman standing in front of him.

“Looks like you got yourself a little wingman, Torres!” Sam hoots.

“I love you Sam but we’re kind of having a moment here?”

“Oh right, sorry! Good luck Y/N! Come on Luis, let’s get our own Tacos.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #captain america brave new world #danny ramirez #the falcon x reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year ago

Text

Come Back Together

Benny Cross x reader

Summary in bullet points:

Now that Benny is back in your life, he is trying to be a better husband

Benny is insecure about his relationship and a barfight ensues

Reader is pregnant (three months)

Benny does a bit of pining and is emotionally vulnerable

Fluffiness

Part 2 of Come Back Knockin’

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, angst and fluff, relationship struggles, physical altercations (fist fight), mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy, mention of alcohol, cursing, kissing, happy stuff, typos. I think that’s it. This took me forever to write for some reason and I was weirdly stressed about it. tf is wrong with me, right? Anyway…

Words: alright no one freak out…it’s 4300. Idk why it’s a lot longer than the first part but I always do that. If you’re willing to venture onward, I appreciate it :)

Benny Cross Masterlist

Part 3: Together and More

He stares at you incessantly. Which isn’t out of the ordinary—he used to stare at you all the time—but there’s something else to it now. He stares as if he thinks you’ll disappear the second he takes his eyes off of you. Like you'll slip through his fingers. Ironic, really, since disappearing in the blink of an eye is more his thing.

“Can I make you something?” he asks, staring at you from his chair while you pull a carton of eggs from the fridge. “You should be sitting instead of me.”

“You don’t know how to cook, Benny,” you state matter-of-factly, turning your back to him as you switch on the stove and set a pan on the lit burner.

Cooking has always been your responsibility. It was one of the things you brought to this relationship. And you liked being the one to keep Benny fed, never chiming in when the other Vandals’ wives and girlfriends mentioned how exhausting it was to satisfy their man’s grumbling stomach. You liked that Benny appreciated you for it.

Now you wonder if subconsciously you believed that as long as you fed him, he’d stay by your side, regardless of his wild nature. Kind of like a puppy. But Benny Cross is no puppy.

“I should probably learn,” he says. “You know, for the kid.”

You hum, cracking an egg on the edge of the pan. “Maybe you should stick to learning how not to ditch your family,” you retort, and immediately your features twist in a wince.

You can’t believe you let those words out of your mouth. You’d been doing so well at holding in the little jabs and remarks, no matter how hard they’ve pushed at your sealed lips. Not to say a few of them haven’t slipped through in the last month, they have, but each time they did, you received instant punishment in the form of Benny’s heart crumbling right before your eyes.

He’s never tried to make you feel guilty about your slip-ups, but he can’t seem to hide his expressions around you anymore. Ever since Benny returned, he’s been different. Your husband who was once so stoic has untethered his emotions from the piece inside of him that, for years, refused to let them show. His affection is more outward now, but unfortunately, so is his pain. So you made a rule to stop doing that to him; stop catching him off guard with words of hurt during a time of pending forgiveness. What he did was damaging, yes, but it’s unfair to pick at him when he’s been doing everything he can to show you he has value to this family; things he never would have done before.

He wakes earlier than you to clean the most-used areas of the house—a poorly done job; you still find dust in spaces dust should have easily been wiped up, but he tries. He found work at a mechanic’s shop not too far from the house, and surprisingly, he has yet to complain about it—a decent job was always something he physically and mentally shunned. He got rid of everything in the spare room and has begun painting the walls from the deep brown left over from the prior owners to a soft, light green that matches the baby blanket he brought you. It’s cute, and significantly better than you would have done without him. You would’ve been too stressed to put together a nice nursery.

Benny awkwardly clears his throat, breaking up your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. The lingering discomfort from your snide tone is palpable, heavy, just short of physically formed, and you can’t escape it.

“I didn’t mean that,” you tell him as you flip the egg.

The sizzle in the pan is louder as uncooked egg hits the heat, but you can still hear his deep breath, easily picturing the weak smile on his face when he softly says, “It’s ok. I deserve it.”

You’re about to protest, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“I was thinkin’ about goin’ to a meeting tonight,” Benny says. “You wanna come with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Oh…” he says, dejected. “It's been a while since you've been to one. I know you stopped goin’ when I was…away, so I thought…”

You set the spatula down and turn to face him, crossing your arms. “I wasn’t going to go without you. And considering everything, everyone just would have pitied me. I'm sure they still do.”

His blue eyes fall to the tiled floor. You know he hates that such a thought would enter your mind, but it’s not as if you’re capable of stopping it. He put you in a pitiful situation, and were the circumstances placed upon another woman, you would have felt those same feelings for her.

“No one pities you, baby. I promise,” he says. “They miss you.” His head lifts so he can meet your stare. “But if you don’t want to go then I'll stay here with you. We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

Your eyes widen. “No!” you yelp. Benny’s head jerks back at the sudden outburst and you swallow to buy yourself time to sort your thoughts into words, but the best you come up with is: “You’re right, actually. We should go.”

“But you just–” His brow raises in skepticism. “Are you sure?”

If your options are club meeting surrounded by a large group of people or movie-watching with you and Benny alone, then yes, you are absolutely sure. The movie channels have rallied against you lately. Out of the five times you and Benny have watched a film since he came back, all five have been romances. All of them!

You don’t know if he scours the TV Guide without you noticing or if the television channels have simply rallied against you, but sitting beside your husband who you are trying not to give in to is made all the more difficult when watching Audrey Hepburn fall in love with George Peppard or Cary Grant or Greggory Peck for God's sake. You see them and it makes you forget things. You forget that you’re as upset as you are, and with Benny so close, your heart starts to pound and you can’t focus on anything else. You want to crawl right into his arms, let him hold you and kiss you and take you on the couch after what has felt like an eternity apart. But you can’t do that. It’s too soon. So no movies.

“Positive,” you nod.

An easy smile slides onto his face. “Well that’s great, baby. It'll be fun.”

“Yea. Sure.”

“Alright,” he says, standing. “I gotta get to the shop.”

He pauses as he passes by you, and you hold his gaze as he squashes the instinct to press his lips to your forehead.

You weren’t married to Benny for long before he panicked and left—only a handful of months—but it was long enough for the two of you to develop your own set of rituals. And by the consistency and ease with which Benny performed those rituals, anyone would have assumed they’d been in place for decades.

A kiss on the forehead after breakfast was one ritual. As was the bedtime cuddling with your leg slotted between his. And the way he’d stare at you in the mirror, his arms crossed and body leaning against the doorframe as he watched you brush your teeth with a grin on his face.

But the one you miss the most is the hug from behind that you'd receive once he’d decided to come home for the night. He’d circle his arms around your waist and place a kiss on your neck, and then he’d chuckle because he was so determined to sneak up on you and give you a little scare but was never successful. You could feel him before he touched you, you could smell his cologne, but you didn’t want to ruin his fun, so you let him have hope that one day he would finally surprise you.

Benny blows out a long breath through his nose. “I’ll see you tonight,” he mutters with a brief hint of a smile.

As the front door closes behind him, a carbon smell grabs your attention and you look over your shoulder at your breakfast. It’s charred, inedible, and you don’t even care, you just knock the pan off to the side to keep the house from burning down.

—

“Well, thank the lord,” Betty’s voice travels across the bar as she and Kathy approach you and Benny. “We weren’t sure we’d ever see you again, honey.”

Kathy draws you into a tight hug that rips you from Benny’s side. “Things have not been the same with you gone,” she says as she leans back, rubbing her hands up and down your arms. She smiles so sweetly and you breathe a sigh of relief. These women were your friends and you feel guilty for abandoning them just because Benny abandoned you. “Come sit.”

“Benny Cross, we are stealin’ your wife,” Betty declares, “And you don't get to whine about it.” There’s a dash of vitriol in her tone that nibbles at your gut and you hope it’s simply an effect of the alcohol she must’ve had prior to your arrival.

“Oh,” Benny says. You glance at him, at the disappointed look on his face—subtle, but there. He wanted you by his side tonight, but he’s not going to force you to deny their offer. “Ok.”

Kathy and Betty each take one of your hands and lead you to a small rounded table. It’s the centerpiece of the room, and as one of three surrounding it, so are you, unfortunately. As Betty sticks a cigarette in her mouth and Kathy takes a sip of her beer, your eyes scan the low-lit space.

Stares from the men lining the walls burn your cheeks. You recognize only half of them—the Vets, as they’re known—and they give you their smiles and nods in a ‘welcome back’ gesture, Johnny, in particular, sporting a rare grin.

The others—the Newcomers; out-of-towners who came specifically to join the club—look at you with something else in their eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? They seem to know exactly who you are and enjoy a little too much putting a face to the name. You, however, don’t know a single one of them. They’d arrived shortly before Benny left, and while some faces, those with distinct features, you can recall from nuggets of your memory, you’ve never spoken to them. You never got their names.

“Why this table?” you ask your friends.

“Best view of the pool table, obviously,” Betty chuckles after snapping Johnny’s lighter shut. She nudges her head in that direction. “Nothin’ wrong with lookin’, I say.”

Flanking the table are Cal, Wahoo, and Benny; Wahoo watching and chattering from the sidelines as Cal and Benny alternate between shots.

Benny edges from one side of the table to the other, sizing up his options. Then, cue in hand, cigarette dangling from his lips, he bends at the waist and lines up the shot.

He’s so stupidly beautiful. The lamp hanging above the table illuminates him, defining his muscles by highlighting the hills and casting the valleys into shadow. A haze of smoke coats your view, but his pure essence and magnetism break through it like rays of sun through parted clouds.

Benny’s eyes flick up to yours and he winks as he shoots, driving two balls directly into their nets.

Your mouth goes dry. You swallow sandpaper, leaving your throat all raw and scratchy.

“So, how’ve you been, honey?” Betty asks, and you turn your head. “How've you been feelin’? How’s that nausea?”

“Yea,” Kathy adds, leaning in close as if seeking out a secret, “and how’s it been goin’ with him? Any trouble?”

“Um, I'm fine,” you say, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Nausea’s manageable.

As far as Benny goes, there's no trouble,” you tell them, “It’s just–” You pause.

What can you say? That you haven’t fully forgiven him even though he’s working so hard to be a good husband? That some of the things he’s doing around the house are swoon-worthy compared to what most men you know would do but you’re too stubborn to express the depth of your appreciation? Any woman would look at you like you’re insane.

When you think about it like that, maybe you are insane.

“I don't know,” you say with a shrug and a shake of your head. “It's hard to explain.”

“Well, according to Johnny, Benny’s worried each day in the house will be his last,” Betty says, blowing a stream of smoke off to the side. “That boy’s so afraid he’s gonna mess up and let you down again that I'm surprised he hasn't lost his marbles. I read in Life that bein’ that anxious wreaks havoc on the body and mind.”

Betty’s always reading something in Life, and a good portion of the time you are hesitant to take her seriously. Not necessarily because you don’t trust what the magazine reports, but that Betty tends to exaggerate for kicks.

You have a feeling she’s not exaggerating this time.

Your face falls.

“Don’t you feel bad about it for one second,” Kathy scolds, placing her hand on top of yours. “You’re well within your rights to make him earn his place.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to be scared that I'm going to–”

You’re cut off by a male voice slipping through a brief lull in the cacophony of noise.

“If she don’t want Benny no more, she can bring her sweet ass right on over to me,” a Newcomer says in a slurring mess. “I’d sure take better care of her than he did.”

Every soul in the room falls deadly silent—the only remaining sound being the melody of Elvis's Baby Let's Play House from the jukebox—and the world around you freezes.

Cigarettes are held over ashtrays, their ashes yet to be knocked off. Beer bottles are raised to lips without the satisfaction of a sip. The bartender’s rag has only wiped up half of a drunken man’s spill. No one is breathing and everyone’s eyes are glued to either the Newcomer or your husband. Yours are on Newcomer, watching his features shift and tick as he soaks in the weight of what he just said, and what it’s about to cost him.

Kathy sighs. “Oh, god.”

The whole bar hears her—impossible not to; you could hear a mouse skitter across the floor—and her words seem to carry with them the wave of a green flag, because a moment later, Benny rushes the guy and tackles him to the ground.

Chaos erupts. All at once, shouts, curses, and hateful name-calling explode like the impact of a bomb. Nearly every man in the club is taking sides in the war between Newcomers and Vets. Fists fly into faces. Faces are shoved against walls. Walls are cracked from bodies slamming into them. There’s the distinct sound of bone meeting bone. Blood splatters across your table.

“Jesus, fellas!” Kathy snaps as she and Betty hop up, dragging you out of the danger zone.

In a panic, your head whips in all directions. You can’t find Benny, but you need to find him and you need to find him now.

You’ve seen him throw punches at races and members’ houses but this is too public a space, and if the cops are called, he can’t be caught fighting again. Nor can he risk having fingers pointed his way for instigating. He already has a record, and though you didn’t know him during his few stints behind bars, you know he has exhausted the sheriff's leniency. If you leave now, Johnny will come up with something to excise Benny’s participation should questions arise.

You take a step forward but Kathy’s grip is tight. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” she shouts.

“To get my husband.”

Betty gapes. “Are you crazy? You're pregnant!” But you ignore her, shaking Kathy off and heading into the storm. “Johnny! Johnny, grab her!”

You weave through fight after fight, stopping short when a body lands at your feet, but he’s up and out of your way in an instant, and you continue dodging and ducking until you spot a blond head. From what you can see, there’s hardly a scratch on him. The same cannot be said for the drunk guy beneath him.

Before you can move another inch, an arm circles your waist and jerks you back.

“Hey!” you snap. “Let go!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. You stay out of it,” Johnny says, lifting you off the ground and setting you down in a safer area. He puts his hands on your shoulders and dips his head to your eye level, locking on to your gaze. “I’ll get ‘im, ok? I’ll get ‘im. Stay right here.”

You nod in agreement, your brows knitted and teeth chewing on your bottom lip.

From this location, you have a better view of your husband and the friend who is trying and failing to break up the fight. Johnny yanking on Benny’s dominant arm is not enough to stop the attacks. Neither is the forearm locked around his neck.

When Cal notices Johnny’s struggle, he pushes his opponent into a table and races over to take hold of Benny’s other bicep. Together they pull him off the man whose face no longer resembles a human’s. It’s a bloody mess. His nose is dented in, eyes swollen shut, lips split and mouth hanging open to reveal an empty space where a tooth used to be.

Benny’s chest heaves. Murder is in his glare. He jerks against his restraints but struggles to break free with the force of two men weighing him to the ground.

Then Johnny mutters something in Benny’s ear that immediately halts his thrashing. His breathing slows. The fire fades from his irises, returning them to their soft cerulean, and his eyes tear away from the beaten man to dart around the room in search of you.

As Benny spots you, Johnny's lips move, seemingly forming the words ‘Get outta here,’ before he pats Benny on the chest and lets him rise to his feet.

Benny comes to you and without stopping grasps your hand and leads you out of the bar.

—

“You think you fractured anything?” You ask as you slide the key into the lock and turn.

Benny stretches and flexes his fingers. “No,” he answers, trailing into the house behind you and shutting the front door. “Are you upset with me?”

He’s been wanting to ask that question since you left the bar. As he'd placed the helmet on your head and clipped the strap under your chin, you'd observed his lips, how they were parting as if to speak but unable to get anything out. And when he'd helped you off the bike in front of the house, his expression was far away, his jaw shifting, teeth clenching—the look of your husband in intense thought.

At least he finally spit it out. Normally, he would have run his fingers through his hair and sighed, opting not to bother you with the question; a behavior that used to drive you crazy. It took weeks after you met for you to accept that while Benny was willing to share a lot with you—things he didn’t intend to share with anyone; a life, for instance—there were things best not to pester him into revealing.

So you’re a patient partner. If it needs to be said or asked, it’ll be said or asked. And you're glad he decided this was one question that needed to be asked.

You sigh, hanging your jacket on the rack, and Benny follows, selecting the hook closest to yours.

“I mean, you nearly killed him,” you say as you make your way to the back of the living room and open the closet that houses the first aid kit.

On tippy toes, you can barely brush your fingers along the metal tin, and you grumble each time you unintentionally push it a little further back on the shelf.

A muscled arm reaches above your head to grab the kit. Benny places it in your hands before stepping back into the seating area and dropping down onto the footstool, his standard perch when you’re fixing him up.

Blue eyes are glued to your body as you take a seat on the couch.

You pull the lid off of the tin and riffle through it for the small bottle of alcohol—you’ll have to buy more soon, it’s getting low—and a clean rag. With the alcohol-soaked fabric at the ready, you slip your fingers under his warm palm, bring his hand close, and get to work dabbing the wounds and wiping off some of the dried blood. He doesn’t so much as hiss at the shot of pain that makes any other human groan and pinch their eyes tight.

“He was out of line,” he tells you.

“I’m not saying he wasn’t out of line, but I really don't need you getting in trouble and being taken away from me, Benny.” You’re focused on his injury, but out of the corner of your eye, he winces in shame. “Besides, he was just mouthing off.”

“Mouthin’ off about my wife.”

With a huff, you drop your joined hands onto your lap and shoot him a look. “I know, but do you honestly believe what he said could ever happen? Do you think I would leave you for some other man?”

You ask with the full expectation of a whip-quick reply—‘of course not, baby’—but Benny adam’s apple bobs, and his teeth clench as his eyes flit to the undoubtedly less interesting carpet.

“Benny…?”

He runs his uninjured hand down his face and looks up at you. “C'mon, baby, it's not that wild of a thought. Not after what I did to you,” he says, his thumb slowly running over your knuckles. “You are so much better than anything I should be allowed to have. But me? You could throw a rock in any direction and you'd hit a man better than me. One that wouldn’t have panicked and left you pregnant and alone for six weeks.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”

“It is true.”

“It is not, and even if it was, I don't want another man,” you confess. A beat passes as you exhale heavily to stave off the stinging of oncoming tears. “It hurts that you left, but I am working through it, we are working through it, ok? You’re not going to lose me, Benny Cross. Not unless you leave me.”

“I'm never leavin’ you,” he says.

You place your free hand on his cheek. “Then you’re never losing me.”

Benny swallows hard and scans your face—each and every feature—lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes. As your thumb strokes his cheekbone, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, turns his head, and presses a kiss to your palm.

“Baby, I miss you so much,” he mutters, his brows pinched in anguish. “I miss touchin’ you. I miss holdin’ you. I miss sleepin’ next to you.” He lightly shakes his head. “I know I don’t deserve you, and I sure as hell don’t deserve our baby, but I fuckin’ miss you.”

The unit that is your heart and body and soul feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. This isn’t what the past month of your lives was meant to be about. It was supposed to be about building trust, not dishing out punishment. And yes, you’ve messed up before, said things that weren’t fair, but keeping him at arm's length is more than that. It’s a deeper pain. Stronger. More potent. Not just for him, but for you as well, and now you can’t quite see the point anymore. Staying away from his touch does not help anything if what you want at the end of the day is to be together. And that is what you want.

When you touch your lips to his for the first time in almost three months, you whimper. You whimper and you melt and the tears want to come back because it’s so much easier to resist desire when you haven’t entertained it in a while. But now you’ve given in. You’re tasting him like you used to, tasting the remnants of gin and cigarettes and the blueberry pie you made for dessert, and it’s all Benny. Benny, who is so shocked that you’ve kissed him that it takes a handful of seconds before he kisses you back and becomes the Benny you know. And then he’s curling his arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap, and his hands are everywhere. Squeezing your thighs, sliding over your ass, tracing up your spine, holding the back of your neck to guide you closer so he can kiss you harder, and yea, you are never depriving yourself of your husband again.

Benny stands, taking you with him, supporting your weight as he keeps kissing you and you keep kissing him. He blindly turns and settles into the comfort of the couch with your legs on either side of his hips.

You lean back, breaking the connection of your lips. “Benny.”

He’s staring at you like you’re hypnotic, mesmerizing. Like he’s drunk on kisses. His fingers trace the curvature of your face. A thumb ghosts over the swollen pillows of your mouth.

“Yea, baby,” he says, voice gravelly, just above a whisper.

“Do you want to be back in our bed?”

Benny stiffens and he blinks away that glazed-over expression. “You mean it?” He asks. You nod.

“Are you gonna be in the bed too?” he says, sifting his fingers through your hair. “We're not just swappin’, are we?”

You smile. “No, we aren't swapping,” you promise him, your forehead falling against his. “I'm making room.”

---

A/N: I kind of want to do a time jump Part 3 with lots of Dad!Benny stuff. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading that. Thanks :)

Taglist (if you wanna join)

#benny cross x reader #benny cross #bikeriders #austin butler #the bikeriders #benny cross fic #austin butler x reader

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harrywavycurly · 19 days ago

Note

I know you’re not feeling well but if you’re motivated could maybe soulmate smells reader have a moment where she misses Harry? Because I miss him😭

Hii babes!! I have some energy today so I hope you enjoy this! 💖

Find Soulmate Smells here

CW: fluff, smut and soulmate style obsession and dirty talk.

Tag List: @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @blckburd @triski73 @mema10 @angeldavis777 @maudie-duan

WC: 3.6K

A/N: This is what I came up with that has you missing Harry and it’s super fluffy and dramatic but also a decent amount of smut because I’m in a mood😂 also I’m sorry if this isn’t the best I feel rusty as hell but I’m getting back in the groove with writing!✨

Summary: Harry goes for a run and you wake up alone and missing him✨

Harry tries his best to be quiet, he knows you’re still probably peacefully tucked in the bed the two of you now share ever since he managed to convince you to move in just a month after meeting you at the farmer’s market. He has a smile on his face as he toes off his running shoes, having gone for a quick little run around the neighborhood after waking up earlier than normal. Even though it slightly pained him to leave you, something he has learned to deal with anytime he has to be more than a few feet away from you, he just leaned down and gently pressed a feather light kiss to the top of your head not wanting to disturb you before heading out of the bedroom. He’s only taken two steps into the kitchen when he hears it, and it has him stopping in his tracks.

Your voice.

“Harry?” He feels as if his heart is being squeezed in his chest as the tiniest hint of sadness works its way into your voice as you call out for him. He turns so he’s facing the hallway the bedroom is on and the sight in front of him nearly has him dropping to his knees at how adorable you look in his faded Rolling Stones shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks because your feet don’t quite like with how chilly the hardwood floors of his house tend to get.

“Harry? You-you weren’t in bed.” Your words are jumbled together with sleep still evident in your tone letting him in on the fact you haven’t been awake that long. He watches as you stand there, right in front of the bedroom door with a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you let out a small yawn and the other knuckling tiredly at your eyes. You have a confused sort of pout on your face and it has Harry rushing down the hall until he’s cupping your face in his hands and tilting your head up ever so slightly so you can look up into his eyes.

“I’m here baby.” His velvety soft voice has a sleepy smile working its way across your face as he leans down to press his lips to your forehead in a sweet and soothing gesture. “I went on a run I didn’t-”

“I missed you.” Your confession is mumbled but Harry hears it just fine. “I woke up all alone and didn’t know where you were.” You explain and your words hit him like a punch in the gut that has his heart threatening to crack open at the thought of you waking up alone and needing him, just for him not to be there.

“I’m sorry sweetheart next time I’ll leave you a note okay?”

“Next time just wake me up.”

“But then you won’t be able to go back to sleep.” He tells you as he leans down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose earning him a quiet little giggle as your hands reach up to cup his face. “You know I don’t like bothering you when you’re asleep.” He adds as he leans back just enough so he can give you a look that has your heart turning to mush at how sweet and genuine it is.

“I woke up when you bumped your toe on the edge of the bed trying to get dressed in the dark. But then I was able to fall back asleep.” This has Harry letting out a sigh, he swore you were still fast asleep when he kissed your head as a silent goodbye.

“Baby.” He whines as he drops his hands down to your hips, resting his forehead against yours. “Why didn’t you say anything?” You let out a small laugh as your arms loosely wrap around his neck while he dips his head into the crook of your neck.

“I didn’t want you to not go…you love your little runs.” You already know the words that are going to leave his mouth are going to be dramatic the moment you feel his lips turn upward into a smile against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Yeah well-” he murmurs as his lips gently place a kiss to your cheek making you smile as his lips hover just a few inches away from yours. “I love you more than my little runs.” He states before placing his lips on yours in a kiss that has you pulling him closer as he slips his tongue past the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss making you let out a hum of approval when one of his hand slides down from your hip until he’s grabbing at the soft flesh of your ass.

Yours hands play with the hair at the nape of his neck when he finally pulls away with a satisfied grin on his face at how flustered you look. Your cheeks are pink and your breathing is a bit uneven as your love filled eyes stare into his. He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, a hand coming up to lightly hold the side of your neck as his thumb gently runs back and forth on the smooth skin of your jaw.

“I just don’t want you giving things up because of me.” You whisper almost as if you don’t really want him to hear you because you know he’s just going to say something ridiculous in response. He doesn’t mean to, but Harry can’t help but roll his eyes at your silly little statement, pulling you closer to him until he’s fully crowding your space, his feet tucked between yours making your hands have to grab onto the material of his tank top to keep yourself balanced.

“There’s nothing more important to me than you.” His voice has that tone to it that has your tummy doing weird little flips, it’s the perfect mixture of his usual gentleness but with a serious undertone, it’s the voice he uses when he really needs you to hear him and understand he means every word he’s saying. “I’d give up everything if it meant you’d be happy.” He tells you softly before he presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss that has you smiling when he pulls away.

“I am happy. I don’t need you to give up running or anything else for that matter.”

“And I don’t need you waking up all sad and pouty.”

“Okay so just start waking me up to tell me goodbye if I’m still asleep when you leave to go run or to the studio or wherever it is you’re going.” A part of Harry’s brain registers that what you’re suggesting is perfectly reasonable. But a larger part, the part that is nothing but thoughts of how much he loves you and is constantly swirling around ways he can keep you around all the time so he has some sort of feeling of wholeness is telling him this suggestion of yours just simply won’t do.

“Or I’ll just never make plans to do anything before you wake up so that way you can just come with me.”

“Harry.”

“Sweetheart.”

“That’s ridiculous you know that right?”

“Oh so wanting to spend every moment with the love of my entire existence- the person who was literally made for me is ridiculous is it?”

“Yes because we both know there’s going to be times when-”

“Don’t say it.” His voice drops as he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against yours. “Please don’t say it.” He knows he sounds absurd begging you not to utter a simple sentence that deep down he knows is the truth, there’s going to be times when the two of you won’t be able to be together. With his job he knows it’s going to be unavoidable but for right now Harry is wanting to enjoy living in the blissful bubble he’s made of having you no further than an arm’s length away, being able to love on your whenever he wants.

“Okay.” You whisper as your hands rest on his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze. “Wanna know a secret?” Your voice is soft but also teasing and it has Harry lifting his head and quirking an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“We have secrets? This is news to me I thought we told each other everything?” He questions making you let out a laugh at his slightly offended facial expression. You cup his face in your hands, a grin playing at the corners of your month when he turns his head so he can kiss the inside of both palms.

“I miss you every time we aren’t in the same room together.” You confess making Harry’s whole body feel like it’s buzzing as his eyes soften and his face breaks out into a grin. During the short amount of time the two of you have been together it’s usually Harry who makes the cheesy confessions while you just smile and tell him you feel the same, this is one of the first times he’s gotten to hear your sweet voice letting him in on how you feel without being prompted.

“I fucking knew it.” He states with a knowing tone and his lips are on yours before you can even get done giggling. You let out a gasp when you feel his strong hands grip the back of your thighs so he can pick you up, your legs wrapping around his middle while your arms go around his neck. “Knew you missed me just as much as I miss you when you’re not around.” He says with a smirk as he carefully carries you into the bedroom, the sun creating a soft warm glow to the room as it peeks through the curtains.

You try to act like his smugness bothers you, with a roll of your eyes as he lays you down on the bed. His bright green eyes stare into yours as he hovers over you, the cocky smirk still on his face as he leans down and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself melting into him as he lets some of his weight fall on your chest as he slots himself between your legs.

“You want me with you all the time don’t you baby?” His breath is warm on your skin, a shiver runs down your spine as his lips place a kiss to the spot just below your ear. “Want me all to yourself right?” He asks between kisses to your jaw.

“Yes.” You answer with a sigh as one of Harry’s hands travels down your side until it lands on the hem of his old t shirt.

“Yeah? Why’s that sweetheart?” His eyes never leave yours as he pushes the worn out fabric up, you watch his eyes darken when he realizes his shirt and your fuzzy socks are the only things you have on. “Christ baby you’re-shit you’re gonna be the death of me.” He says with a laugh as you spread your legs a little wider and bend one of them, placing your foot flat against the soft comforter on the bed.

“You’re the one who got me ready for bed last night.” You remind him with a smile as you run a hand through his hair as he pulls away just long enough to pull his tank top off and toss it to the floor. “You’re sweaty.” You state making Harry just shake his head as a chuckle escapes him before he leans down and places his lips to the side of your neck.

“It’s your fault I’m all sweaty.” You let out a breathy moan as his lips travel down your neck. “Was in a hurry to get back home.” He explains with a smile as he pulls away and hovers over you so his mouth is just a breath away from yours. “Back to you.” You pull him down for a hungry kiss as soon as the words are finished leaving his mouth, he has to fight back a moan as your hands tangle into his hair and your tongue licks into his mouth.

“Harry.” Your voice is a strained whine as he pulls away, but he doesn’t give you reason to pout for long as you feel his hand slide between the two of you until the tip of his index finger is running up and down your slick folds, feeling how wet and needy you are for him.

“Oh my poor baby.” You can’t be bothered to care how needy and desperate you sound as you let out a whine when he continues to tease your entrance with the tip of his finger. “This why you missed me this morning? Because you woke up all achy and needy for me?” He’s slipping his thick digit into your tight hole before you can even think of responding. The moan you let out is whiney and goes straight to Harry’s cock as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of your wetness, he lets out a groan when he feels your hands clawing at his back when he adds a second finger.

“Always-always need you.” You tell him with a moan as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you at a slow and steady pace that has you craving more.

“I know sweetheart.” He coos in your ear as his thumb starts to rub torturously slow circles over your swollen clit causing you to jump at the sensation. “Always gonna need me to make you feel good-make you feel complete isn’t that right baby?”

“Yes.” Harry smiles at how quickly the word rolls off your tongue as he feels your chest press against his when you arch your back when he adds a little more pressure to your clit. “N-need more please.” You whimper and the desperation in your voice has Harry slipping his fingers out of your wet cunt, his lips find yours before you have time to let out a whine of protest. His mouth moves against yours as if kissing you is second nature, knowing exactly how you need to be kissed so your mind doesn’t have time to even process the loss of his fingers being snuggly tucked up inside you. He just needs his lips to distract you a bit as he slightly fumbles to pull down his shorts with one hand while the other keeps him from completely pressing all his weight against you.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls away from you, his hand wrapping around his hard shaft giving it a few tugs before he’s pressing it up against your slick folds. His eyes close for only a moment, taking a deep breath to try to get any sort of grasp he can on his self control because he knows by the way you jump and let out a gasp when all he does is tease your entrance with the tip of his cock that you’re still feeling the effects of the rather intense evening the two of you spent with each other the night before. When his eyes open they meet yours and the dazed smile you give him as you bring a hand up to cup the side of his face has his heart swelling, instantly having him fill with a deep desire to please you anyway he can.

“Hi love.”

“Hi Harry.” He grins as you run your free hand through his hair giving it a light tug.

“I love you.” You let out a soft moan as he starts to slowly push his thick cock inside of you. “So much.” He says with a groan as your hand tightens its grip in his hair, the familiar stretch making a wave of pleasure roll through you as you feel him slowly fill you up inch by inch.

“I love you too.” Harry moans as he feels your walls already pulse around him as he bottoms out, his head falls into the crook of your neck taking a big inhale of your comforting scent that’s mixed with the faintest hint of laundry detergent. Feeling the sense of fullness and a level of completeness only Harry can give you has a mixture of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest. It has you closing your eyes as you try to not get caught up in the intense feeling of sadness you had in your heart when you woke up for the second time, but this time you were all alone with no clue where the man you’re madly in love with is.

“I…I didn’t like waking up alone and n-not knowing where you were.” Your sudden admission have Harry using both arms to hover over you, so he can make sure you’re able to get a good look at his face.

“Oh sweetheart.” His heart aches and he wants to swear right then and there it won’t ever happen again as your eyes get glassy and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “I’m so sorry-let me make it better baby-let me make it up to you.” He pleads as he pulls out to just the tip before sinking back inside your tight cunt with a slow roll of his hips. “Won’t happen again okay? You’ll never wake up alone again.” He knows he can’t promise that but right now he doesn’t care because he watches your eyes close and your mouth fall open as his hips find a deliciously steady pace, having his cock hit deeper and deeper with every thrust. And when a low moan of pure pleasure followed by his name tumbles out of your parted lips he knows he’s forgiven.

“Missed you so-so much.” Your voice is a mixture of a sigh and a soft moan and it has Harry twitching inside of you.

“Fuck baby I missed you too-was running as fast as I could to get back to you.” He tells you between sloppy kisses to your jaw. “Needed to get home and have you wrapped around me like this so badly baby-shit you have no idea how good your tight pussy feels. It’s heaven and it’s all mine.” You let out a small squeak as his thrusts turn harsher, his lips travel up your jaw until he’s kissing you and you know when the tip of his tongue swipes your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth it’s his way of trying to apologize for the brief moment of discomfort.

“Look at you baby-taking me so well.” He praises as he glances down at where your bodies meet, a low moan bubbling up from deep in his chest as he watches his thick cock disappear into your soaked cunt with each roll of his hips into yours. “Doing so good for me even after I pounded you into the mattress last night until you were a crying mess.” You let out a loud moan as Harry trails a hand down to your chest, softy cupping your breast and giving it a squeeze. “Can feel you squeezing me baby.” He groans as you arch your back into him as the tip of his cock continues to hit the spot that has the pressure building low in your tummy.

“Oh don’t stop-please Harry don’t stop.” You beg as your hands reach to grip the sheets at your sides as you feel your climax threatening to crash into you as Harry starts to give you more determined, desire driven thrusts of his hips. The wet sounds of his cock pumping in and out of your wet cunt fills the room making Harry let out a loud groan.

“God I love the sounds your pussy makes when it’s getting fucked by my big cock baby-you get so wet for me it’s so good.” You feel his lips gently nibble on your earlobe as he gives his hips a little swivel making your hands grab hold of his biceps, your nails dig into his skin as the friction on your swollen clit creates a wave of pleasure that crashes over you.

“Harry-oh god yes yes-oh I love you-so so much oh my god.” Your words are a jumbled mess followed by a cry of his name as your climax hits you like a tidal wave, you see stars as Harry gently fucks you through your release, his own not far behind.

“Shit shit you feel so good baby-fuck please just-just be mine forever I can’t ever go without you oh god oh fuck.” He pants as his thrusts turn quicker and soon you feel the warmth of his release shooting deep inside you, his lips find yours in a kiss that has your hands tangling in his hair as he lets himself fall on top of you, the comforting weight of him making you smile against his lips. The two of you lay in the comfortable silence for a few moments as you try to catch your breath, his head resting on your chest while your hands soothingly run up and down his muscular back.

“That’s the third marriage proposal this week.” Harry lets out a huff as he lifts his head so he can raise an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah well I’ll stop asking when you actually give me an answer.” He teases as he leans down and places a kiss to your lips before laying his head back down on your chest, the fabric of his old t shirt soft against his cheek.

“Yeah well maybe I’ll actually answer when you stop asking while you have your co-”

“I get it.” He says cutting you off with a laugh. “Next time I ask I will make sure we aren’t naked in the bedroom…or the kitchen…or the pool or-”

“Okay okay I get it.”

“I love you baby.” He mumbles into the fabric of his t shirt with a smile. You can’t help but let a silly smile take over your face as you look down at him only to see him staring at you already.

“I love you too Harry.” You watch him move his head so he can place a kiss to the center of your chest over the fabric of his shirt. “Did you really run faster just to get home to me because you missed me?” You softly ask making Harry lift his head as a proud grin works its way onto his face.

“I did. Beat my personal record actually-fastest three miles I’ve ever ran.”

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24hlevi · 9 months ago

Note

not sure which characters u write about for arcane!! but if you do male characters, could be anyone of your choice where they don’t get the hint you like them or want to take their relationship further (depends if u wanna do sfw or nsfw!!) :) tyyy!

for male characters i write for jayce, viktor, ekko, and silco! thank you for requesting 🫶

— TAKE A HINT

viktor (arcane) x gn!reader

warnings/tags: oblivious!viktor, confessions, fluff, sfw

you thought you were going mildly insane, having a crush on your friend as his second partner to jayce

to be fair, you kinda were, judging how no matter what you did in attempt to give hints just led nowhere

you tried talking to jayce on a few occasions, trying to get some advice on what to do, but he wasn't much help with relationship stuff as he claimed

you tried over and over again to get viktor to notice you more than just a friend, and every time, he couldn't tell

"hey," you say softly, slowly approaching viktor from behind with a hot cup of tea in your hands.

viktor turns his head as soon as he hears your voice draw him out of his work, and a small smile grows on his face. "good evening, yn," he replies.

"i brought you some tea," you set the cup down carefully next to his papers that were scattered along the table. "have you ate anything yet?"

"thank you," viktor responds, his eyes following your hand as you set the cup down. "i have not," he then shakes his head. "jayce tried asking earlier, but i wasn't quite hungry."

"would you like me to try and make you something?" you ask, looking down at him as you fiddle with your hands anxiously.

"mm," he hums, shrugging his shoulders lightly. "i would prefer your presence here with me. if you don't mind, that is."

"i don't mind," you shake your head, trying to fight the smile forming on your face. "just tell me what you'd like me to do."

"nothing," viktor answers, having you look at him with confusion. "you don't have to do anything, precisely. just your presence is enough."

"oh...okay,"

you still couldn't figure out how to get viktor to realize you had feelings for him, you couldn't believe how oblivious he was

after years of liking the male, he didn't ever seem to appear like he reciprocated those feelings, making you slowly give up as time went by

it wasn't until one early morning, that it all finally fell into place

viktor slowly made his way to the lab. it was early morning, the sun hardly peeking out from over the horizon as he hobbled through the hallway. this morning, he was already thrown a bit off his rocker. for he hadn't seen you yet since he woke up. normally, you would be awake and moving before him and jayce, so it was odd to not see you around as he walked down the hall.

entering the lab, viktor turns on the lights, and then stops in his spot. there you were. your body slouched against the table with papers messily filled with calculations that viktor was doing the day prior, seemingly asleep. slowly, he approaches you and stands behind you, silently looking at you. the sun is shining against your face, and viktor comes to the realization that he never paid attention to how much he liked looking at you. you looked so peaceful like this, and he felt an odd sensation in his chest as he peered down at you.

suddenly, you start stirring around, slowly opening your eyes to see viktor standing above you. "mm? viktor?" you groggily mumble.

seeing you wake up, viktor, as fast as he can, takes a few steps back, his face turning red at possibly being caught. "s-sorry," he stutters.

your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. did he just stutter? you rub your eyes with your hands before blinking a few times to look at him clearer. was he...staring at you while you were asleep? while this would be extremely creepy if it were anyone else, you couldn't help but feel somewhat flattered by his reaction. you take a look around and realize you're in the lab. "oh gosh, i can't believe i fell asleep in here," you drag your hands across your face. "i'm sorry, viktor. i was trying to finish what you were doing yesterday."

"it is alright," viktor says after taking a moment to calm his heartbeat from jumping out of his chest. he then realizes what you said, and his face contorts into confusion, looking at the papers on the table. "you didn't have to. i would have figured it out by this week i'm sure."

"i just wanted to help more," you admit with a short sigh. "ever since you and jayce started this new development for hextech...i feel like i've fallen behind." you look down at all the papers in front of you in shame that you still couldn't figure it out.

viktor's expression changes again, no longer confused but a soft look as he notices the tone in your voice change. you sound almost defeated, clearly upset about this. hesitantly, he places a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up at him. "it is okay, yn," he starts, his tone soft like his expression on his face. "you being here is enough for me. you do not need to prove yourself, for i already know how smart you are. do not worry of hextech if you fear you are falling behind. i appreciate your presence more than anything else."

looking up at him, you slowly nod your head and stand from your seat. you don't know what to say, but thankfully for you, viktor continues speaking.

"i have noticed some...changes in my thoughts recently," he says slowly, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "while they are primarily filled with ideas of hextech and how we could evolve the future...they are also about you. i want to create something that will help our future, that will help your future. these past couple of weeks...i have thought of you more. i thought it was normal at first...but the more i thought about what i was thinking about i..came to a realization." he sees the way you look at him with subtle confusion on your face, and he hesitates before continuing. "i believe i may have some kind of feelings for you, yn."

your eyes widen in shock, looking at viktor as he explains his thoughts, and you're not sure what to do. "what?" you quietly let out.

"yes, it appears to be that way," viktor nods. "just now, i have confirmed it. i may not have noticed it fast enough, and i sincerely apologize if i am too late now, but i had to get this off my chest before it would ruin me."

"o-oh," you stutter, a fiery blush growing on your face. "you-you're not too late," you say finally. "i've uhm, had feelings for you for a while now," you admit.

hearing this, a smile makes its way onto viktor's face. "really?" he asks.

"yeah," you nod. "i thought you were never going to notice or were purposely ignoring my attempts."

"ah," he lets out. "i would never purposely ignore you, yn," he says, pushing some of your hair out of your face. "let's just say i am a bit slow when it comes to these things. i apologize if i ever gave you the wrong idea."

"it's okay," you reply.

"well then, shall we establish this whilst we finish these calculations?" he has a smile on his face as he speaks, dragging another chair to sit down beside you.

"yeah," you nod, smiling back at him.

"great."

#arcane x reader #arcane imagines #arcane scenarios #viktor x reader #viktor imagine #viktor scenarios #request

513 notes · View notes

dduane · 6 months ago

Text

Erotica and anniversaries

...The big E, first. Here she is. Isn't she lovely?

...Right there upstairs at the Library of Congress, on the second floor. (I noted at the time we passed through some years back—and continue to smile at the memory—that her artist has included his copyright statement right there, to make sure no one misses it.)

...Anyway, where were we? ...Oh yeah: the local takes on erotic writing and smut.

This subject seems to come up every couple of years. What nudged me into revisiting it this time was the notes off a comment to a post earlier today, responding to someone working on an explicit-leaning AU, and discussing the writing of (story) bibles for projects.

Anyway, the notes:

#love that the advice was not just 'stick to porn' or 'don't write porn at all' but 'ah yes; common problem; let me explain to you how to write a series bible'

Well, disclosure here: in my case, it can't really be otherwise. :)

Let this act as everybody's sort-of-biennial reminder (if needed) that I'm not going to be caught condemning people for writing smut, as I've written it myself. (And continue to do so when the mood moves me.)

The post from very nearly two years ago, discussing the issue in more detail, is over here. As you'll see if you read it, there were some folks who experienced brief episodes of cognitive dissonance on learning I was a cheerful writer of explicit material. Some of the surprise was probably due to the fact that a lot of people see me—mostly due to the relatively-higher profile of the Young Wizards books—as primarily a writer for younger readers.

But that's not how I got started. My (1979) debut novel centers a universe where the following exchange between two of the protagonists appears—they then being wrapped up in blankets and afterglow in the wake of a prolonged and enthusiastic post-reunion shag:

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Nor was this a one-off. This book and its sequels contain a fair number of passages in which human (and occasionally non-human) sexualities, both in the abstract and the experientially concrete, take center stage. And the mode in which they're expressed and discussed is intended for adults. Those sequences can probably be described as at least borderline erotica. (I certainly try had to be as graceful about such passages as I can, when and where it's appropriate to be.)

With this in mind, it's worth repeating what turns up in that earlier post, which came off a query to a ficcer about "how do you feel knowing that people may be jerking off to your work?":

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say...

Other people's art in these modes certainly is entertaining for me: and I desperately hope mine is for other people. (Almost all my more explicit writing is published only pseudonymously, which from my point of view is just fine. There's a fair amount of writing work out in the world that [for contractual or other business reasons] doesn't have my name on it. This is just more of the same.)

(Per that, adding here again my own tags from that earlier post:)

#and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:)

Anyway, finally: from that earlier post—on nearly the thirty-eighth anniversary of something happening to me that would, just a year before the event, have seemed wildly unlikely—this note, unusually apposite because of what today is, and what's coming tomorrow.

I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed…) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you’re willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it’s to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-plus-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and more than three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added… let’s just say nuance. 😏

So, happy Valentine's Day to all those who choose to celebrate, in whatever mode.

And to the Man Upstairs:

...See you in a few, sweetie. :)

#nuance #:)#ETA: adding #the hottest author jacket pic EVAR

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flawless-peach · 1 year ago

Text

activities to improve your life

(in no way do you have to do these or all of them in order to improve, these ade just little things to do to help you feel good about yourself <3)

- go on walks outside, or just get outside in someway. in the summers my boyfriend and I would walk a couple blocks to get a snowcone. now that's its spring I walk to the gas station near by to pick up energy drink for my boyfriend (spring semester)

- wake up earlier, now this one is important to me because I am a huge morning person and so is everyone in my family. but some people aren't naturally morning people. so dont feel like im saying wake up at 5am. I more mean wake up with enough time to enjoy your morning and look forward to the day, you don't want to rush to get ready

- drink an appropriate amount of water, I personally aim for about 60oz now, which I don't hot everyday, but when I first started trying to drink more water I started out with 20oz because I just wasn't drinking water. so don't push yourself because you'll only hate the water rather than appreciate what it can do for you

- journal every day. I normally don't journal about my day until the next morning as I reflect on the previous day, because I don't want the day to "end" before it's actually over. but I try to write reviews about episodes of the shows i like or take notes over my audiobooks and try to think about why I like/dislike them. I find that this helps me so that whenever I start getting emotionally overwhelmed to slow down and put into words what's wrong rather than just being overwhelmed

- working out to feel good rather than look good. I've had a terrible relationship with my body most of my life and so by working out to feel good i have different goals and schedules i followed than when I was trying to lose weight, and it's helping like my body even if it's not changing how it looks. I try to exercise at least 3 days a week, but if I don't feel good enough to i don't force myself (the walks outside are exercise too, so thats also helping me feel good even if I eat a snowcone immediately afterwards ^^)

- positive affirmations. I really struggle with this one, but I have a widget on my phone that rotates through different ones and im liking the ones that are good and at the end of the week in my journal I wrote them all out.

- look for long lasting happiness over short term happiness. this one is a lot harder i just wanted to add it on the end because sometimes I put off doing something I know will make me happy in the end because of short term gratification. I normally feal with this by letting them merge if I can (so like everything shower tiktoks while I get ready for my shower)

#motivation #aesthetic #clean girl #routine #vanilla girl #photo collection #peachy days #glow up #it girl #that girl

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prettydaisygirl · 1 month ago

Note

Hi love! I saw your requests were open (which is exciting bc I LOVE your stuff) and specifically for Sirius and Remus which is PERFECT because those are my favs 🤗 so what about one of them with a reader who is overworking herself and stressed out and they’re trying to remind her to slow down and take care of herself and ask for help but she’s not listening and you can decide where it goes. I was trying to think of something Angsty bc I do love my angst too 😬

thanks for requesting this! I've discovered that I absolutely love writing for Sirius so I will take any and all requests with him thank you very muchhhh hope you enjoy <3

boyfriend!Sirius Black x fem!reader who is overworked ✿ 732 words

cw: fem!reader, slight angst, Sirius being a protective boyfriend, reader being stubborn, fainting

sirius black masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

It’s Thursday evening, and you and Sirius are cuddled up together on the couch, watching a movie. Or at least, you’re supposed to be watching it. You’ve fallen asleep against him, again, for the third night in a row.

He encourages it, actually, running slow hands up and down your back. He’d made you some tea earlier, and picked a slow movie he knew would have your eyelids drooping. You’ve been working too hard recently, waking up too early and staying at work too late. If the dark circles under your eyes didn’t give you away, then you falling asleep at the dinner table earlier definitely did.

He’d already said something to you about it last week.

“You can’t keep going like this, love.” He’d said then, “They’re working you to the bone.”

“I need this promotion,” You tried to argue. It was enough of an excuse for you, but not for him. “If I want it, I have to prove to them that I mean it. It’s only a few more weeks.”

But Sirius didn’t know if you could handle this for a few more weeks. He doesn’t know if you’ve been eating enough, you’re long gone before he wakes up in the morning. You eat your dinner like you’ve been starving.

He’s worried about you.

So, getting you to sleep a little longer, laying on his chest, was just a part of his duty as a good boyfriend, right?

You look a bit better the next afternoon when he sees you, but it doesn’t matter. You fall right back into your routine, and by the time you admit you picked up an extra weekend shift, Sirius is fed up.

“Love.” He takes both of your hands in his own, raising them to his lips. “You can’t keep going like this. You’re going to get sick.”

“I’m fine.” You insist, shaking your head. You don’t tell him about how you’ve felt dizzy sometimes recently, or that you’ve had a headache for the last three days. “They announce the promotion on Friday. If I can just work until then-”

“Do you hear yourself?” Sirius regrets snapping the moment the harsh quip leaves his lips, but he’s angry and he can’t take it back now. “You have to stop. You need to take a break.”

Your eyes grow hard, lids narrowing at him. “You don’t get to speak to me like that.”

Sirius falters, taking a breath in, trying to get control of his temper, his frustration. “Baby, look, I didn’t-”

“Sirius, this is my career.” You stress, running a hand through your hair and shaking your head. “This isn’t something I can just set aside and do later. I need this promotion. I want this job. So just… stop.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

The both of you dance awkwardly around each other for the rest of the night. He insists on a goodnight kiss and you give him one, but he still feels like ants are crawling beneath his skin as he lays next to you. He just has a bad feeling.

He tugs you closer and wishes there was more he could do.

So he tries.

He wakes up with you the next morning, though he thinks he’d rather do just about anything than wake up early. He does it for you. He makes you breakfast, and you seem grateful. It doesn’t get rid of the bags underneath your eyes.

Things take a turn for the worse on Wednesday. He can tell something is wrong the moment you walk through the door. He steps over to hug you and you just sort of… collapse into his arms. Literally, you faint into him.

“Okay, baby, you’re okay…” He guides you over to the sofa gently, and gets a cool rag to place over your forehead. You wake soon after, blinking slowly like you’re unsure of what’s happening.

“You fainted.” He tells you before you can ask. “You’re staying home tomorrow.”

You don’t argue, even though part of you wants to. Part of you wants to scream at him that your job is on the line but you physically can’t. So, you stay quiet. And you let him take care of you.

And in the end, missing one day doesn’t even matter.

You get better, and you get the promotion.

And Sirius gets to brag that he was right.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

#daisy's writings #sirius black #boyfriend!sirius black #sirius black au #sirius black x reader #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black oneshot #sirius black imagine #marauders era #hp marauders

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networklovemp3 · 4 months ago

Text

3:33am ⏾

joshua x (gn) reader tags: 18+ MDNI, nsfw, not super explicit (m.) masturbation scene, used panties, fluff, silly sweetest of all time shua word count: 1.78k words an: my first time writing and posting something smutty!! please be nice and lmk how it is, i wrote this way too late at night but tried my best to edit it. likes and rbs and any other timestamp thoughts/requests are appreciated! i'd love to write more!! <3

after you both fell asleep earlier than usual, joshua wakes up in the middle of the night, mouth dry and feeling hot everywhere. there's a terrible ache in him, a want, a need, but he looks to his side and sees you're sleeping soundly one pillow over.

sighing a frustrated but quiet breath, joshua knows himself enough to know he won't willingly wake you from your sleep that you desperately needed. instead, he carefully peels himself away from you and the bed, and heads for the bathroom across the room. the door barely clicks shut, one of your night lights glowing on the wall, and he is alone to deal with himself.

joshua thinks about calming himself down so he can just go back to bed. he thinks about distracting himself. he thinks he should have better self control than this. he thinks about taking a cold shower, if only he could without waking you up. he thinks about you. he thinks about you. your warm skin back in bed, the way you snuggled into him before falling asleep, one of his t-shirts hanging off your shoulders... fuck.

so maybe the self control thing isn't working for him. he might as well get this over with as quickly as possible before you wake up and start to wonder where he is. he's already reached past his boxers and has one hand on himself, the other white-knuckled on the counter, when he spots the laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom.

he knows it's kind of gross, and probably disrespectful on some level, but before his blood can reach his brain to think it through joshua has your silky blue underwear in his hand and then wrapped around himself. it's so cooling and soft and smells like you and... oh. he presses his lips together to contain the noises that wish to escape and squeezes his eyes closed so tight they almost hurt.

it feels so, so good and he was already so pent up that the race ends almost as quickly as it starts, finishing all over the blue fabric as he fights for any sense of control. after his muscles start to relax, joshua allows himself a minute to control his breathing and to clean himself off, then he's rushing to get back into bed with you. he slips under the covers, this time wrapping himself against your back with much more relief settled into his bones.

"...shua?" he hears you murmur and his heart stutters with a brief flash of irrational panic. "i'm sorry, baby, did i wake you?" joshua places a soft kiss on your neck, trying to calm himself down. you sigh at the sweet brush of his lips, turning around to blearily blink up at him once, twice, three times. "no, just felt you coming back to bed," you whisper back to him. he presses another kiss to your forehead, and one on your nose, and you smile up at him so warmly.

you're placing your head back on his chest and sliding your hand innocently down his bare waist and across his stomach when joshua catches his breath involuntarily, still sensitive enough from moments ago when your fingers glide just above his waistband. suddenly, your eyes are shooting back up at him with an accusatory and confused look. "what did you do?" you ask, and joshua closes his eyes for a moment.

"i..."

"you just jerked off, didn't you!" you breath out all at once. "how could you possible know that!" joshua stares back at you in shock, doe eyes wide in the dark. "i know you only jump in your skin like that when i touch you after you've just finished," you roll your eyes knowingly, "now why did you do it without me?"

"i didn't want to wake you, you were so tired earlier. i just took care of it quickly by myself." he explains gently, but you still pout up at him. "i wouldn't have cared, shua, seriously, you can just wake me up next time. i wish you had." you place your hands gently on his shoulders. "oh... do you want me to....?" misunderstanding you, his eyes trail downwards meaningfully, with that concerned crease you love between his scrunched eyebrows.

"no, joshua, not right now," you sigh in affectionate exasperation, "sometimes... sometimes, i just want the opportunity to please you."

"you do please me though, like, all the time?" he blinks at you, still in confusion. "i know, i just mean... i mean pleasing you and that's it. sometimes i just want my boyfriend's dick in my mouth and that's all!" breathing out the last part all at once, you realize you had been keeping that thought in for quite a while. after all, you really do enjoy pleasing him.

"oh, um, i.... didn't know that's something you wanted," joshua looks utterly taken aback that you'd been wanting that, and that he has played a part in keeping it from you. after a pause, he smiles a slow, sinister smile down at you. "i think we can manage to arrange that in the future though, if it's what you really want."

you smile back at him and nod, feeling pleased to be on the same page finally. he pulls you close to him again and you both melt back into a comfortable, if slightly charged, silence. it doesn't last long before you think of something else.

"were you thinking of me, before, in the bathroom?" you whisper shyly into the base of his neck. you can tell he's smiling when he responds, "yes, of course. i'm always thinking of you. actually... i might've used your panties to help me out too."

the gasp you let out is playful, and you try to pull back to look at him again but he stops you in his tight hold. "i didn't know you were dirty like that, shua!" you tease, and joshua can feel his ears are turning cherry red. "you don't think it's kind of... weird and gross?"

"no, to be honest, it's kind of really hot... maybe along with my idea you should let me watch sometime..." you trail off in thought, and joshua lets out a strangled groan above you as if you physically harmed him.

before you know it, the entire conversation is being laughed off with many future acts in mind, and the two of you slip back into sleep before the sun rises.

#moongirl.writes ⏾#seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #joshua hong x reader #svt x reader #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #svt fluff #joshua hong smut #joshua hong fluff #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo x reader #thank you svt and other writers for curing my writers block #thank u joshua for being so hot

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dragonridersandhighlords · 4 months ago

Note

As you have one-shot coming up, this idea could work as a long one shot or mini series.

Though I'm just halfway through Iron Flame and don't know how Xaden turns into a venin and of like rest of the fandom and Vi, as of now we don't know the cure for it too. I stumbled upon some 'venin-cure' theories and one of it inspired this idea so hear me out.

Ik Xaden turned into a venin for Violet. As per theories, if he can become one for his love, he has come into the realization and give up what he took (the direct power).

Finally the idea: the reader is actually pregnant. It's up to you if Xaden knew it earlier or not but maybe like idk they're in a war zone or whatever situation, he was going to kill somebody or whatever and at that moment reader faces Xaden. Telling him that she's not going to fight him, she let go of her dagger or sword, trying to remind him of himself, showing him his ring still on her finger. When she sees him calming down, she may take his hand and touch her barely visible (or visible) belly, begging him to let go of the power, reminding him that he's in control of himself, begging him to come to her and their baby.

So I got lost in the writing and made it an OC instead of x reader but it can still be read as a reader instert! That being said, please please please wait to read this until AFTER you've read Onyx Storm as I did use actual events in this!

⚠️MAJOR ONYX STORM SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

What Love Left Behind | Xaden Riorson

Summary: In the wake of war and unexpected loss, Briar Veyloren–now Riorson–is left to lead Tyrrendor alone—pregnant, grieving, and haunted by the man she loves. Briar must navigate politics, power, and the whisper of hope that lingers in a mysterious letter. She learns that love may be the most dangerous weapon of all—and the only one worth wielding.

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x OC! Briar Veyloren

Notes: I included a couple theories that have been circulating. But seriously if you haven’t read Onyx Storm, you should before reading this.

Warnings: Onyx Storm spoilers, surprise pregnancy and concerns around maternal health, emotional distress and PTSD themes, implied past violence and death, mentions of planned death, war context and threat of battle, angst

Word Count: 6.5k

Masterlist | FW Masterlist

“Your Grace.”

The words echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat, each utterance threatening to send me over the edge. One month had passed since he vanished, leaving behind only a marriage certificate, a noble title, and an unexpected pregnancy. The last month spent poring over maps and sending out search parties, each return bringing nothing but disappointment. The latest team would be back any day now, but every second dragged on like a lifetime.

As the Duchess of Tyrrendor, I was trapped by my responsibilities, drowning in meetings and decisions that felt foreign to me. No longer just Briar Veyloren, I was now a figurehead, a woman expected to wield authority, yet all I wanted was a moment to breathe without the suffocating weight of my new title.

The next person who bowed low and addressed me as “Your Grace” just might find themselves on the receiving end of my very real frustration—and it's not my hormones talking.

“Briar? What are you doing?” Brennan’s voice cut through my thoughts, his brow furrowed with concern as he approached.

“Walking? Did you not just tell me I needed to be more active?” I shot back, rolling my eyes. At barely eleven weeks pregnant and not even showing, I felt more like a burden than a mother-to-be. Brennan’s worry was sweet, but it had become suffocating since he and Imogen had found me unconscious in the courtyard of Riorson House.

And let's be honest, my whole world feels suffocating without him.

“With someone! What if you tripped on any of the stairs between your room and here?” His voice was laced with the kind of earnestness that made me want to scream and laugh at the same time.

“Brennan,” I began, pinching the bridge of my nose, “I’m going to be honest with you for a minute, okay?” He nodded, earnestness replaced with curiosity. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But if you lecture me again for walking through my own home, I will strangle you.” I raised an eyebrow, my expression daring him to argue.

Brennan's face shifted to one of understanding. I wasn’t just battling the challenges of my pregnancy or the burdens of my title—I was facing the reality that the one man I had trusted to stand by my side was missing, and with him, a part of my heart.

“Understood.” Brennan nods, his expression betraying a mixture of sympathy and concern, but I know this won’t be the last time I’ll have to remind him of my boundaries. “Garrick and Bodhi landed a few minutes ago; they’re in the Assembly Room waiting for you.” His words cut through my thoughts like a sharpened blade as I turn to continue my walk.

“And you waited to tell me that because?” I gasp, the weight of urgency pooling in my chest. The minute those two returned from their mission, I should have been the first to know.

“Sorry, Bree.” Brennan’s smile emerges, almost sheepish, as a chuckle escaped his lips at my reaction. “I’ll walk you down.” I eye him suspiciously, skepticism knitting my brow, but he’s quick with a rebuttal. “Merely because I’m a part of that meeting too, not because of what I said earlier, I swear.”

My laughter, albeit strained, breaks through the monotonous hum of everyday life in the halls, a sound that feels foreign yet welcome. It’s probably the brightest anyone has heard since his departure, a small glimpse of the woman I used to be, if only for a moment.

As we approach the grand double doors leading into the Assembly Room, Brennan leans forward, his hand resting lightly on the polished wood, a silent invitation. He swings the door open, and I step inside, the air suddenly thick with the weight of expectation. Instantly, all eyes turn towards me, the occupants standing with a blend of respect and trepidation as I walk through the threshold.

“What did I say about that shit?” I groan, exasperation lacing my tone as I stride to the opposite end of the throne, settling into one of the more ordinary chairs that line the table.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to sit on the throne, Your Grace?” Major Ulices Ferris’s voice cuts through the murmur of the room, sounding less like a suggestion and more like a command. I refrain from reacting, my gaze fixated on the imposing throne that looms across the table, a symbol of power that feels unlike something that's mine.

“It is the Duke’s throne, not mine.” My reply is curt, resolute, as I remain anchored in the chair I’ve chosen, fighting the sorrows that gnawed at me.

“You are the acting leader of Tyrrendor, Your Grace. The Duke is not–”

“If you tell me what to do in my own province again, Major, you will find that my temper is much, much shorter than his.” The words escape my lips like wildfire, a hand slamming onto the table with a resounding bang that silences the room. “If I do not wish to sit on the fucking throne, then I won’t.” Wide eyes are fixed on me, some filled with surprise, others masking concern, as I struggle against the tears that threaten to spill. “And the next person to call me ‘Your Grace’ will find their vocal cords ripped out.” I realize then, perhaps it is the hormones talking, because I never raise my voice or lash out but the frustration surging within me feels all too real.

A palpable silence envelops the Assembly Room, heavy and suffocating. The clatter of chairs scraping against the floor echoes like thunder as everyone hastily settles at the long, polished table. I take in the scene before me, trying to read the emotions etched on the faces of my advisors and comrades, but I find myself floundering. My dragon, Ríogh, had decided to block me from his power until my child arrives, severing the tether that usually grounds me in the whirlwind of feelings surrounding me. The air feels thick and stagnant, as if charged with unspoken fears and burdens, and I have no way to discern why.

The murmurs fade as the Assembly begins their weekly reports—information that should be routine yet now seems to hang like a dark cloud overhead. One by one, they share updates on the army's status, the progress of the riders’ and flyers’ classes—classes I should be attending, but the demands of governing Tyrrendor weigh heavily on my shoulders. The mention of Violet’s training under Felix pulls my attention momentarily, but I am drawn back to the map spread before me, its worn surface marked with notes and symbols that pulse with urgency.

“And the search?” My voice, low and steady, cuts through the air, my gaze still focused on the map as if the answers might leap off the parchment and reveal themselves to me. Hope is a fragile thing, and I’ve learned not to cling to it, especially during these grim reports. Two weeks of relentless despair in the beginning had left their mark, and I understood all too well the reason Ríogh had shielded me from his power.

“We arrived a day, if not a few hours, after the attack.” As Garrick's voice reaches me, a dagger suddenly plunges into the map, piercing the inked details with alarming accuracy. My hand hovers above the blade, a physical extension of my shock. “There were no signs of Venin or wyverns remaining in the area.”

“But we did find this, Briar.” Bodhi’s voice breaks through my daze as he slides a letter towards me, its wax seal glinting ominously in the dim light. I reach for it, my heart racing as I analyze the unfamiliar seal. Yet, it is the handwriting that sends a cold shiver racing down my spine, his handwriting.

“Where?” I manage to ask, the urgency in my tone rising as I set the unopened letter back on the table, a weight growing in my chest.

“Hung on the main gates of the city,” Bodhi replies softly, his gaze downcast as he sets the blade alongside the letter. “With this stabbed through the corner.”

My breath hitches, and I struggle to contain the emotion that threatens to spill over. One look at the familiar blade sends a sob escaping me, and I lift it trembling from the table, tracing the delicate carvings along its length—my initials, BV, just below the hilt, carved by by parents before my entry into the Rider's Quadrant. The leather wrapped around the hilt, added by him after he won the dagger from me during a challenge in my first year, brings an achingly familiar feeling. The weight of the dagger in my hand felt like a tether to a past I desperately wanted to cling to, yet the reality of its current context made my grip falter.

I was acutely aware of the bustling energy around me as my friends hastily ushered the Assembly leaders out of the room, their murmurs becoming a distant hum, barely piercing through the fog of my thoughts.

“He always carried this dagger,” I whispered, the words escaping in a broken whisper that was almost lost amidst the scuffle of chairs and the echo of hurried footsteps. My eyes remained fixed on the intricate carvings adorning the blade, but the simplest carving of my initials below the hilt that my parents had placed there. The worn leather, a reminder of him, that was added after he had won in a challenge.

Garrick’s voice broke through the haze, steady and firm. He spoke of the dagger’s significance, recounting tales of how it had become an extension of him. As I absently twisted the blade between my fingers, the familiar weight brought fleeting comfort, grounding me amidst the turmoil swirling around me.

Using the dagger, I carefully pressed the tip against the wax, the sharpness gliding through it with an ease that mirrored the memories flooding my mind. As the seal broke, I felt an exhilarating rush that felt eerily like both dread and anticipation. The letter now lay before me, a promise of answers that beckoned me closer, even as it threatened to unravel everything I thought I knew.

The world around me quieted. I could sense the worried glances of my friends, the weight of their expectations heavy on my shoulders. Yet, the only thing that mattered in that moment was the letter before me, a bridge between despair and hope.

As the last remnants of the wax fell away, the air shifted, thickening with tension as if the universe itself held its breath, waiting for me to unveil the secrets hidden within the paper. My fingers tremble slightly, and I could almost hear the heartbeat of Tyrrendor in the silence, a reminder of the stakes that lay beyond my personal anguish.

“Briar,” Bodhi’s voice penetrated my concentration, laced with worry. “What does it say?”

The question hung in the air like a charge, electrifying and daunting. I felt as though the answer would either condemn me or set me free. I inhaled deeply, my heart racing with the weight of anticipation.

Briar,

Can’t you ever listen to me?

Against all odds, I know you’ll make the right decision.

Leave your resources where you need them most.

Look where you least expect.

Don’t take this as a clue on where to find me.

You are Tyrrendor’s only hope.

Remember the good moments.

I trust you.

-X

“What does it say?” Bodhi asks again, leaning over my shoulder, his breath a warm whisper against my neck.

I carefully reread the letter, its words swirling in my mind like a chaotic tempest. “This makes no sense.” A heavy sigh escapes my lips, carrying the weight of despair that clings to me like a shroud. “Maybe he is too far gone.” The reality of the cryptic message settles in my chest like a stone, and I stand, tucking the letter into my pocket, the fabric of my clothes brushing against my skin, grounding me. I slide the dagger into its empty sheath, the familiar clink of metal against leather echoing in the silence around us.

“I’m going to watch flight maneuvers.” My voice is firm, a declaration against the unease that threatens to consume me.

“Briar—”

“Brennan, if you tell me I can’t go sit in a fucking field with my dragon and watch the cadets, I’m going to scream.” The softness in my voice belies the storm brewing within, and I don’t even turn to face him, my focus fixed on the door that leads outside.

“I was going to suggest taking a waterskin. It’s warmer today than it has been.” He sets a sturdy waterskin in my now outstretched hand, the leather cool and reassuring against my palm.

“I don’t want to be bothered while I’m out there. I just need some peace and quiet.” The words tumble out, a plea wrapped in frustration.

“Of course.” Garrick steps up beside me, his presence steady and calming. “We’ll handle everything.”

“We will?” Bodhi questions, and before I can reply, a grunt of pain escapes him, quickly followed by his reluctant agreement with Garrick.

I turn to face them, a small smile breaking through the cloud of anxiety that looms overhead. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Crash and burn?” Bodhi laughs, the lightness of his voice a balm to my frayed nerves, only to be silenced by Garrick’s elbow jabbing into his side.

I laugh at my friends' antics, the sound echoing through the Assembly Room, a momentary distraction from my turmoil. With a heart a touch lighter, I walk towards the exterior door, its wooden frame worn and familiar, leading me to the open path that winds toward the valley below.

As I begin the trek, the anticipation of watching the cadets fills me with a fleeting escape from the shadows that linger in my thoughts. After a bit of a walk, I finally arrive at the designated field, the vibrant hues of summer in Tyrrendor blooming around me, and there, nestled in the grass, I spot Violet curled up with Andarna, her laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves. My own dragon, Ríogh, stands sentinel beside them, an unmistakable warmth emanating from his scaled form.

“Hey Ríogh.” I smile at the sight of him, the bond we share a steady anchor amidst the storm.

“Feeling better, Little Foot?” His smirk dances through our connection, teasing and light-hearted.

“I’ve told you this before, just because your previous riders were all men does not mean I have small feet.” I pause mid-step, crossing my arms, my glare playful yet fierce, challenging him as the sun beams down on us.

“Oh, but it's so fun to rile you up. Even if the Mender had Marbh lecture me about being nice so you kept your blood pressure low.” Ríogh's voice cuts through my simmering irritation hangs heavily between us.

I release an annoyed sigh, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest. My feet begin moving again, almost as if they’re propelled by sheer frustration. “I’m going to kill your brother,” I mutter, the declaration slipping from my lips as I pass by Violet, my stride purposeful and swift. I collapse onto the grass beside Ríogh’s massive head, leaning against his warm, scaled neck, seeking solace in his steadfast presence.

“What did he do this time?” Violet asks, laughter lacing her tone as her gaze remains glued to the pages of her book, the sunlight casting a golden glow over her hair.

“Lecturing me about walking alone, reminding me to grab a waterskin before I walked here, and apparently having his dragon lecture mine about my fucking blood pressure.” The words spill out of me, laced with exasperation. “I’m running a fucking province by myself while my husband—who I can’t even remember marrying—is fully Venin and apparently leaving cryptic letters at the cities he destroys now. My blood pressure hasn’t been normal in years.” My voice trembles with the weight of it all, each word a release of pent-up tension that has festered within me.

“Xaden left you a letter?” At the mention of his name, a sharp pang pierces my heart, each syllable feeling like a jagged blade. In the early days after his disappearance, the mere utterance of his name sent me spiraling into tears, raw grief threatening to consume me. Yet Violet never adhered to the unspoken rule her brother had set.

I pass the paper over to her when she sets her book aside, moving closer, her curiosity igniting a flicker of hope within me. She studies the words intently, her brow furrowing in concentration as she reads them over and over before finally speaking.

“Holy shit, it's an acrostic.”

“Acrostic?” The word feels foreign on my tongue, an enigma until it clicks. “Like a poem?”

“The first letters of each line spell a word or phrase.” As she hands the letter back, I analyze the words once more, and adrenaline surges through me. With newfound clarity, I leap to my feet, urgency propelling me forward.

“I know where they’re attacking next!” I shout, my voice echoing as I barrel through the doors of Riorson House, where Garrick, Bodhi, and Brennan still remain in the assembly room, their faces a mix of surprise and concern at my sudden arrival.

“Are you sure?” Aaric’s voice cuts through the tension, his brow furrowed with concern as he steps closer, the urgency of the moment hanging heavy in the air. I had sent for him the moment I returned, a spark of desperate hope igniting within me because if I was right, then a Prince of Navarre was urgently needed.

“Violet said it’s an acrostic,” I explain, my heart racing as I recall the words that had danced before my eyes like the flickering shadows of doubt. “Xaden has never written a poem in his life; that’s why it made no sense. He just needed to spell a word, not a whole message.” My hand trembles slightly as I hand the letter to Aaric, eager for him to see it with his own eyes. I spell it out, enunciating each letter clearly, “C-A-L-L-D-Y-R. He’s trying to tell us where to find them.” The hope in my voice feels fresh, like the first breath of spring air after a long winter, awakening a purpose within me that had been dormant.

“Briar, this is a stretch,” Garrick interjects, his skepticism evident as he pulls the paper from Aaric’s hands, the furrow in his brow deepening.

“I trust you,” I implore, my gaze locked onto Garrick’s, willing him to see the truth within my conviction. “It’s a code we came up with before he graduated.” My eyes are pleading, a silent plea to embrace this fragile thread of hope. “Sign off with ‘I love you’ if it’s just a letter. ‘I trust you’ means there’s important info woven into the message.” The weight of my revelation hangs in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Every pair of eyes is fixed on me, the silence thickening as I break down the implications of his words.

Can’t you ever listen to me? He told me not to search for him in the note I was found with, but defiance had driven me to ignore his warning.

Against all odds, I know you’ll make the right decision. The decision to seek him out? To stand and fight instead of hiding behind the wards?

Leave your resources where you need them most. Aretia had ample defenses; between the riders and flyers we housed. The entire fleet wasn't needed here.

Look where you least expect. I’d never have imagined this—his clumsy attempt at poetry-- would be a desperate lifeline crafted in the dark.

Don’t take this as a clue on where to find me. I had never been good at listening to him.

You are Tyrrendor’s only hope. The echo of his words from after he first channeled resonated within me, a haunting reminder of what he was preparing me for.

Remember the good moments. He’d been sharing his plans during those fleeting, cherished instances, hints interwoven throughout our laughter and love, guiding me to this very moment.

“He laid it out for us.” The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, pressing down on my chest as I took in the skeptical expressions of my friends. I may not have been able to read emotions at this moment, but their faces told me everything I needed to know; doubt shadowed their brows, and disbelief flickered in their eyes. “Please, let me have this last bit of hope.” My voice cracked with desperation, and I felt as if I were grasping at threads of light in an encroaching darkness.

Bodhi, always the one with a heart so large it often outshone his doubts, was the first to break the tension that wrapped around us like a constricting serpent. “What’s the plan?” His tone was firm, a lifeline cast into turbulent waters.

“Aaric and the flyers leave today to prepare King Tauri for our arrival.” My mind raced, each word tumbling out like stones rolling down a hillside, gathering momentum. “The Dark Wielders have at least a three-day advantage on us. We leave a riot first-years along with a mix of second- and third-years and officers so Aretia is not defenseless.” My voice steadied, emboldened by purpose. “The rest of us leave for Calldyr City at dawn.”

“The rest of us? You are not going to battle in your condition.” Brennan’s protest cut through the air like a sharp blade, concern etched into his features. I could see the worry pooling in his eyes, a turbulent sea of emotions that mirrored my own.

“I’m pregnant, not dying!” My defense came out more forceful than intended, but the urgency of my plea propelled me forward. “If he’s there, then I have to see him. At a minimum, he deserves to hear the news from me.” A gentle hand rested over my stomach, a silent promise of the life that blossomed within me. I watched as my friends exchanged glances, their expressions softening ever so slightly, an understanding threading through the tension.

“If you need to, assign people to defend me, but I have to talk to him. If he’s truly gone, I’ll drive the knife in myself.” The words tasted bitter, yet they felt liberating, a catharsis of intent.

They looked between each other, silent deliberation flickering in their eyes before nodding in unison.

“Fine,” Brennan agreed, the weight of his acceptance settling around us like a comforting cloak.

“The minute we tell you to run, you better be on Ríogh’s back and gone,” Garrick warned, his expression fierce and protective. I nodded, resolving the hardening in my chest.

“Thank you.” My heart swelled with gratitude, a flicker of hope igniting within me, illuminating the path ahead.

The flight was interminable, each beat of Ríogh's powerful wings echoing the urgency that thrummed through my veins. My back ached from the prolonged strain of clinging to his scaled form, the chill of the wind biting through my cloak.Had Aaric not successfully persuade his father to trust me, the kingdom might have been plunged into chaos with an untested ruler on the throne.

As we soared through the sky, a heavy pall hung over us, the dragons sensing the approach of the Dark Wielders with an eerie intuition that prickled at my skin. It hadn’t been long since my arrival, yet already the atmosphere crackled with tension. Instead of convening with King Tauri to strategize, an urgent edict had been issued: protect the city at all costs. High above, with Garrick, Bodhi, Brennan, and Violet by my side, we hovered, scanning the horizon for any sign of him.

I was taken aback when we left to see Tairn willingly alongside us, his massive wings cutting through the air with a grace that belied his size. Violet had shared with me the heart-wrenching news of his bond with Sgaeyl fracturing during my lost twelve hours, and my heart ached for the dragons, their shared pain palpable even at this distance. Tairn, who had not been seen for weeks, now glided silently, his sorrow evident in every powerful stroke of his wings.

Suddenly, Ríogh’s voice broke through my reverie. “Sgaeyl nears.” The words resonated with urgency, and I turned to Violet, who nodded in understanding.

Moments later, the majestic navy blue silhouette of Sgaeyl emerged from the clouds, a dark shadow against the sunlit sky, but there was something unsettling about her presence—she bore no rider.

“Tell her I need to speak to him,” I urged Ríogh, my heart pounding as Sgaeyl approached us with a grace that felt both regal and mournful. Ríogh scoffed at my command.

I felt the connection between Sgaeyl and Tairn, a profound sadness swirling in the air around them. Gathering my resolve, I broke tradition and shouted, “Tell the Duke his Duchess requires an audience.”

After a tense moment, Ríogh relayed her message. Violet and I were to follow, the others had to keep their distance.

“Tell the others, and don’t lose her, please,” I instructed, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. As Ríogh and Tairn took the lead, I felt a strange calm wash over me, a stillness amidst the chaos that enveloped Calldyr City.

We descended into a tranquil field to the east, the sound of battle faintly echoing from the city, contrasting sharply with the peaceful serenity of our surroundings.

“Briar,” Violet called, pointing ahead. When my feet met the earth, I looked ahead. There, standing before Sgaeyl, was him.

“Stay here, be ready in case this goes wrong,” I instructed Violet firmly, but my heart raced with hope and trepidation. Ríogh's growl vibrated beside me as I began my approach. “He won’t hurt me,” I reassured him, though his huff conveyed his doubts.

“Quiet the venue for a meeting, Your Grace.” His voice sliced through the heavy air, resonating with authority yet laced with a fragility that echoed the distance between us. I halted mid-step, the tension thick as I stood roughly ten feet from him, yet I could feel the magnetic pull towards Ríogh, who fidgeted behind me, his wings slightly unfurling as if sensing the charged atmosphere.

“You’re a hard man to nail down, Your Grace.” I matched his tone, defiance cloaking my emotions like a shield, even as I took in the sight of him.

My heart ached, and I fought to mask the tumult within. The man who stood before me was a shadow of the one I had known. The once-familiar onyx depths of his eyes now held a tempest of turmoil, rimmed in red, and deep red veins at his temples. The only trace of familiarity was the intricate relic winding up his left arm and creeping over his neck. But the moment he stood before me, my heart betrayed me, skipping a beat at the sheer presence of him.

“Xaden,” I breathed, the name falling from my lips like a tender sigh.

“You shouldn’t have come, my stillpoint.” His voice was devoid of the softness that once enveloped our conversations, each word striking me like a knife to the chest. I steeled myself against the ache of familiarity that felt foreign now, a haunting reminder of the love that felt so distant.

“I had to see you—needed to see you. Considering I don’t remember our last moments together.” The words slipped out, edged with a growl that I could not suppress. “Including our wedding.” I watched him flinch, the shadow of pain flickering across his face.

“It was for the best.” His response was hollow, a sentiment that did little to assuage the storm raging within me.

I took a step closer, determined to bridge the chasm between us. “Why’d you turn?” I demanded, the question a relentless echo in my mind since that fateful night.

“It's what I had to do.” His voice was strained, and the weight of it hung heavy in the air.

“Why?” I pressed, the urgency in my voice flaring.

“Briar!” Bodhi’s warning cut through the tension, but I paid it no mind.

“Little Foot.”

“You told me once that your love for me was strong enough to keep you from channeling,” I said, taking another step forward, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. “But something else was stronger that night.” I drew nearer, driven by an inexplicable need to understand. “What drove you to channel?”

“They were going to hurt Sgaeyl.” The admission fell from his lips, raw and broken, a lament that shattered the fragile moment. “I wasn’t going to let someone else I love get hurt for being connected to me.”

I nodded, allowing the weight of his words to settle in. His love for me had once kept him off the ice, but in an instant, it was his love for Sgaeyl that had broken the ice below his feet. Understanding flickered like a candle in the wind, and with each heartbeat, the threads weaved together, drawing me inexorably closer.

His love had been the driving force each time he channeled, a tempestuous tide that surged through him in moments of desperation.

At Basgiath, because the sage had threatened me.

In my room, because he lost control when with me, leaving greyed fingerprints that still littered my hips.

Beyond the wards, because Garrick the wyvern were surrounding Garrick.

In Deverelli, when Courtlyn’s guards had turned their murderous sights on me.

When the venin were after Sgaeyl.

If his love was strong enough to drive him to channel, then could it also be the anchor that brought him back?

“The only time I will ever love someone more than you is if we get the chance to start a family.”

Those words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of the future we once envisioned together. He had spoken them with a weight while he was subtly preparing me for a time when I would need to kill him, should he lose control.

“I’m a lost cause, Bree,” he laments, an air of resignation clouding his features. “Against all odds, I know you’ll make the right decision.”

I paused, my heart pounding as realization washed over me. The ink of his letter still fresh in my mind, I understood at that moment that he had anticipated my arrival. This conversation, laden with unshed tears and unspoken goodbyes, was not a mere coincidence. It was a final chance to see me.

I will not let this be that moment.

“Can I tell you something?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, yet laced with determination. A soft smile broke through the anguish as I drew my dagger from the sheath, its familiar weight grounding me in a chaotic storm of emotion. Recognition flickered in his eyes when he saw the blade—the one he had left for me, a symbol of our intertwined fates.

“Anything,” he breathed, the vulnerability in his tone echoing the tempest within.

“I know you can fight it, the venin side of you.” Though he opened his mouth to protest, I pressed on. “Everything you’ve ever done was for love. For me, for Garrick, for Sgaeyl. Your love for those close to you was enough to break the ice from under you. So let a new love be enough to make you swim.” I reached for his hand, my heart thudding in the silence that enveloped us. He flinched at my touch, but miraculously, he did not pull away.

“Briar!” Brennan’s voice pierced the haze of urgency surrounding us. I glanced down at Xaden’s hand, instinctively placing it over the almost imperceptible bump that was our future.

“Swim for the life we created, please,” I implored, my voice trembling as I saw the flicker of understanding ignite within his stormy gaze. “I know you’re still in there, deep down, Xaden.” Each word felt like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters, hope anchoring my desperate plea. “If you can’t come back for me,” I felt the sting of tears threatening to spill, the weight of our love heavy in the air, “come back for our child, who deserves to grow up with their father.”

In an agonizing moment, he pulled his hand away, and I watched as the red veins, once pulsating with venomous fury, began to fade like mist at dawn. Xaden collapsed to his knees, fingers clawing into the earth, as if seeking refuge in the very ground beneath him.

“Back away, Little Foot.” Ríogh’s warning was accompanied by a fierce gust of wind, Sgaeyl launching into the air. But my eyes remained fixed on Xaden, his anguish palpable as the soil around his hands lost its color, wilting under the weight of his struggle. I instinctively retreated, the dagger slipping back into its sheath as I stumbled backward, my heart pounding.

Suddenly, a sturdy form blocked my path. Garrick’s arms encircled me protectively, but panic surged through me, propelling my feet forward just as the circle ceased expanding, a scream tearing through Xaden’s lips—a sound that reverberated with raw, unfiltered emotion.

“You need to go, Briar,” Garrick urged, his voice a mixture of fear and insistence as he attempted to guide me toward Ríogh. Yet, I stood firm, rooted to the spot.

“Wait.” My voice cut through the air, defiant.

“You promised—”

“Just wait!” I shouted, breaking free from his hold, my resolve solidified as I approached the very edge of the circle. Xaden’s screams morphed, a shift from frustration to fierce determination. I could see him lifting his head, and through the veil of tears, I caught a glimpse of what lay beneath—the onyx eyes now flecked with gold, igniting a spark of recognition in my chest.

It was my Xaden staring back at me.

As the circle began to shrink, color returned to the desaturated landscape, and instinct took over, guiding me back to him.

“The little one says she senses no darkness in him. I’m inclined to agree,” Ríogh’s voice broke through, a beacon of hope as I drew closer.

“You’re saying my absolutely insane idea to put mine and the baby’s lives on the line by touching a venin actually worked?” I laughed, disbelief mingling with relief coursing through the bond between us.

“Sgaeyl thanks you for saving her rider,” came the response, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Xay?” I called softly, my voice trembling with the rush of emotions that flooded through me. Standing at arm's length, I could see the myriad of emotions flickering across his face like shadows dancing in the twilight. His eyes met mine with a deep intensity, shining with the remnants of the man I had fought so hard to save.

“How’d you know it would work?” His voice was shaky, a fragile thread woven with uncertainty. I caught sight of his hands, trembling ever so slightly, surely because of Sgaeyl's hesitation to let him tap into her magic for fear of him slipping.

“I didn’t,” I admitted, the truth spilling from my lips like a breath of wind. My heart raced, both from the thrill of his return and the perilous gamble I had taken.

“That was insanely dangerous, Your Grace.” His chastisement cut through the tension, but the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth contradicted the gravity of his words. Thank you for saving me.

“I really hate being called that.” A laugh escaped me, light and buoyant, as I reached out to cup his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath my fingertips—a small, grounding detail that reminded me of who he truly was.

“Then what should I call you? Duchess? Mrs. Riorson? My savior?” His voice held a teasing lilt as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, the warmth of his body enveloping me like a protective cocoon.

“Your wife will do just fine.” Relief coursed through me, mingling with joy I thought I had forgotten. I searched his eyes, yearning for confirmation, and finding it—an unwavering promise. “No urges?”

“None, my beautiful wife.” With that, our lips met in a passionate kiss, a moment suspended in time. As I melted into him, I prayed to the gods that he would never let me go.

But just as the world around us faded into a blissful oblivion, a throat cleared behind us, pulling us back into reality. Turning to see our friends gathered, I felt a tinge of embarrassment sweep through me.

“You’re not going to kill us, right?” Garrick asked, his voice laced with wariness as he remained a cautious distance away.

“Because I’m venin? No.” Xaden chuckled, releasing me from his embrace to pull Garrick into a hearty hug. A sense of camaraderie filled the air as he moved on to his cousin, laughter easing the tension in our group. “For bringing my pregnant wife to a battle? Definitely.”

“Technically, the Duchess brought us into battle,” Bodhi interjected, a smirk lighting up his features. “Rank is a fickle thing in this world, especially considering she’s still a cadet yet somehow out ranks Brennan.”

“I did try to stop her regardless,” Brennan defended, his eyes revealing the weight he carried of having to contend with me but he smiled nonetheless.

Xaden's laughter rang out again, and it warmed my chest, igniting a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

“She’s never listened to anything I’ve ever told her.” With a playful shove, I pushed my husband away, but his hand caught my waist, pulling us back together. He pressed another kiss to my lips, sealing the moment with an electric spark that ignited my heart.

Violet broke through the haze of our shared bliss, her voice sharp and steady amidst the charged atmosphere. “As sweet as this is, we do have an entire city under attack.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

Xaden muttered into the kiss, his breath warm against my lips, “Go back to Aretia.”

The protest slipped from my mouth like a child’s plea, raw and desperate. “I won’t leave you.” My fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, the coarse material grounding me in this moment that felt both infinite and fleeting. I felt his shadows swirling around me, a tender yet protective caress that ignited in my chest. I leaned further into him, craving the solidity of his presence, already missing everything about this moment, as if it were sand slipping through my fingers.

“I will return to you as soon as I gut the Sage like a fish.” A smirk played on his lips, a flicker of mischief that danced in his stormy eyes. “I have a new reason to end this war, and something tells me it’s going to stick.”

“Come home to me.” My voice, tinged with urgency, turned into a command, a plea wrapped in iron resolve. “Don’t make me a widow before I can experience married life.”

“Are you saying that as my wife or as the Duchess of Tyrrendor?” he asked, his brow arching, a challenge mingled with affection.

“Both. Never different people with each other, remember?” I pulled on the words he had spoken after he received his title back.

“I love you, my wife.”

“I love you, my husband.”

I thought of an entire series for after this so if you would like to see more of what I'm calling The Aretian Chronicles, please let me know! I'll make a post of details and a poll if there is interest!

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Comment, ask, or pm to be added to a specific character or everything taglist!

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therealcocoshady · 1 year ago

Note

Coco!! Just wanted to say THANK YOU for indulging another one of my requests and so QUICKLY too. I know you’re busy, busy and I really appreciate it! This was everything I ASKED for and more! Love me some sweet and sexy Marsh 🤍💪🏼🧘🏻‍♀️💦💋🌶️🥵🧸

Hope you enjoy a ☕️ or 2 on me! 😉

A/N : Hi bestie 🌟. Thank YOU for supporting me and being my first ever commission ❤️.

For those of you who didn’t know, you can support my writing by giving tips on my Ko-Fi account and I am now open for commissions as well 😏.

@shady-577 kindly allowed me to post the commission on this blog, too, to I hope y’all enjoy 🌟

Sweat Session

Marshall was a very healthy person and it showed. On your very first date, he’d told you about him trying to lead a healthy lifestyle by maintaining his sobriety, eating well and exercising and, two years into your relationship, he was more than consistent. You had recently moved in together and you got to see just how seriously he took it. And as he was getting ready to drop a new album, perform regularly again and do some promo, he started exercising even more. Not only it kept him fit, but it also helped him deal with his stress. He got up even earlier in the morning to hit the gym and, even though you enjoy the fruits of his labor (what with him being even more buff than before), you were a little grumpy not to have your man in bed with you when you woke up. And since he spent even more time at work, polishing the album and working on the promo, you didn’t see him as much as you liked, which made you a little frustrated.

- You know, you could hit the gym with me, he suggested with a smile when you told him about your annoyance. Might do some good.

- Is this a sneaky way of telling me I’ve gained weight ? You asked as you side-eyed him.

- What ? No ! He immediately said. I’m just saying it’s healthy to exercise. You could wake up a little earlier and join me in the gym.

- Or you could skip a day and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning, you suggested with a charming grin.

- Not happening, doll, he said with a smile. Need to be consistent.

- Fine, you groaned.

With the public appearances and photo shoots he had planned, as well as music videos to shoot, he wanted to look buff. At 51 years old, he didn’t want to be seen as some « aging rapper who let himself go ». And sure enough, the results were there. His chest was chesting and he had Twitter go feral over the outline of his pecs, clearly visible on the latest pics of him at Dre’s Walk of Fame ceremony.

The next day, you woke up to the sound of his alarm going off and let out a groan. He whispered an apology and kissed your forehead before going to the home gym in the basement. You tried to fall back to sleep but without your man by your side, the bed felt cold and empty. That’s when you decided enough was enough. You got up and put on a cute working out outfit, which looked more like underwear than clothes you could actually work out in, consisting of a bra and the tiniest shorts ever. Just enough fabric to highlight your figure and make your ass and breast pop out. When you got downstairs, you saw him working out on an incline bench, absorbed on what he was doing. He was wearing simple sweatpants and sneakers, not even bothering with a teeshirt. The view reminded you of how lucky you were. You looked at him from afar for a good while, him so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there, practically drooling.

- Hi handsome, you said seductively. Mind if I join you ?

- You decided to get up after- he began. Jesus Christ…

- Yes ? You said innocently.

- You’re gonna work out in these ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You don’t like it ? You asked.

- I don’t think that’s enough fabric for me to critique, he hummed.

- Far be it from me to distract you, you said with a smile. Unless…

- I have to work out, babe, he said with a frown. But you’re welcome to join.

You shrugged. You’d been dating for a while but, clearly, he should know better than to assume you didn’t have more tricks up your sleeve. You kicked off your sneakers and grabbed a yoga mat, strategically placing it so that he’d have a good view. You started stretching, going from pose to pose. He kept on working out next to you, though you could see his gaze.

- Like what you see ? You hummed.

- Making sure you’re doing it right, he said with a grin.

- Sure, you giggled.

He got up while you were in downward facing dog and put a hand on your hip, helping you stretch your back a little.

- You know, these tiny shorts don’t hide much, he whispered in your ear. Especially not in this pose.

- Oh yeah ? You asked as you switched to a three-legged down dog that gave him an even better view.

- Fuck, he muttered under his breath.

You kept your flow going under his watchful eye, looking at you as if you were a snack.

- I think my flexibility is not too bad, you remarked.

- It’s really good, he mumbled. Really good.

- Thank you for correcting my posture, my love, you said innocently. Let me repay the favor and spot you.

He hummed and laid back on the inclined bench, grabbing some halters, working on his arms. You gently ran your hand on his biceps, feeling how much bigger they had gotten in the past weeks.

- So muscular, you said seductively. You are so strong…

- Am I ? He mused.

- And that chest, you continued. It’s all for the « Stan » shirt lift for your upcoming tour, isn’t it ?

He looked at you with a grin, knowing this particular move drove you absolutely crazy. You watched him exercise. He clearly didn’t need you to spot him, and you knew it, but this allowed you to stare. He sat back up and grabbed his water bottle, taking a big gulp. You were staring at each other with « fuck me eyes » and you could tell he was trying hard not to give in to the temptation.

- You’re awfully distracting, woman, he said.

- Maybe you need to take a little break, you suggested. I think it’s time you were shown some appreciation for all this hard work…

He smiled and playfully shook his head before taking another gulp of water. Some of it missed his mouth and trailed down his neck and chest. You stepped closer and ran your tongue on his neck, catching the iced liquid. He let out a groan, letting you know how pleasurable it was.

- Let’s not be wasteful with water, now, you said seductively. Oh, I think I missed some…

You proceeded to kiss his chest, catching the water with your mouth. You took advantage of the moment and placed a kiss on one of his pecs. He chuckled and pulled you to him so that you’d sit in his lap before kissing you passionately.

- You’re impossible, he hummed between kissed. I can’t focus.

- And you’re a fucking tease, you retorted as you kissed him back. I’m only human, you know ?

- I’ll give you teasing, he grinned.

With one movement of his knee, he had you spread your legs for him, before running his fingers on the inside of your thigh. You hummed in pleasure as his hand got dangerously close to your pussy, eventually cupping it over the thin fabric of your shorts, making you sigh in pleasure.

- Is this what you wanted ? He asked playfully.

- Yes, you whined.

There was nothing more you loved than to sit in his lap, his arms around you, free to run his hands across your body. He knew it and he happily obliged, keeping on teasing you over your clothes, cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples with his fingers. He freed one of your boobs from your sports bra and pinched the nipple, making you moan in pleasure. You automatically started grinding against his thigh, your body desperate for some release.

- Look at this, he chuckled. You don’t need me to take care of you. Looks like you’re doing it on your own.

- Please, you asked breathily. Marshall.

- Patience, love, he whispered in your ear before letting his hand go back to your pussy.

He played with you over the fabric, no doubt feeling how wet you were. His head was buried in your neck and you could feel his smile against your skin. You kept on moaning, desperate for more. Eventually, you took matters in your own hands and knelt between his legs. You decided to put him through the same misery and stroked his high through his sweatpants, going higher and higher with each motion. Even through the fabric, you could see his growing bulge. You looked up to him and saw that he was looking in the mirror across the room, admiring the view of you, kneeling for him.

- You’re so beautiful in this position,he said as he ran a hand through your hair.

- Keep enjoying the view, then, you suggested with a smirk.

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to allow you to lower them, eventually kicking his sneakers so that you’d remove the whole thing, along with his boxers. There was something about him, naked on the bench, his massive erection showing you how excited he was. You stroked his cock and gave it a few pumps before approaching your face.

- I could leave you like this, you mused. Like you’ve left me alone in our bed…

- Babe, no, he pleaded. Please.

You thoroughly enjoyed reversing the power dynamic. By the look he was giving you, you could tell that he was wrapped around your finger, eating in the palm of your hand. You gave him a mischievous grin and started licking the tip of his cock, earning sighs of pleasure in the process. You kept on stroking the length while kitten licking the head, knowing it drove him crazy, that he wanted nothing more than for you to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually, you did and he moaned loudly, still holding on to your hair. You kept on sucking him, hollowing your cheeks to pleasure him even more. You took as much as you could, making you drool all over his cock. You stared at him from below and saw he was bemused by the reflection of you sucking him in the mirror. You could feel him twitch inside of your mouth, a sign that he was about to come.

- Stop, he warned.

- You can come, you said as you kept on stroking him.

- Don’t want to, he said. Not yet.

He helped you get up and kissed you hungrily before undressing you. He sat back and pulled you so that you’d straddle his lap, giving him an opportunity to suck on your tits while grabbing a handful of your ass. He lined himself at your entrance and inserted himself, making you whimper. There it was. What you’d been craving. The sole sensation of him inside you was heavenly. His mouth traveled between your nipple and your neck, proving that he knew your sweet spots all too well.

- is this what you wanted ? He asked breathily.

- Yes, you whispered.

He started thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to bottom into you and hit your sweet spot. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily, dying to be close to him as ever. The making out was hotter than ever and you always wanted more, desperate for some release, knowing this man could make you come like no one else before him.

- Faster, you begged. Harder. Please.

He gave you a smirk and carried you to another bench that was slightly higher. He had you on your knees, ass up and face down and penetrated you roughly, making you scream before thrusting violently. He was going so fast that you had trouble catching your breath. But at the same time, it was so good, so hot to have him use you. His thrusts became slower again and he put your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look in a mirror in front of you. You could see your faces twisting in pleasure. His gaze met yours and he gave you a smirk before quickening his pace. He closed his eyes and all hell broke loose. His hips moved faster than ever, hitting you deep. There was no doubt that you’d be sore for the following days but, in the instant, neither of you cared, lost in the pleasure. You moved your hips in sync, trying to keep up with him. You didn’t want it to end and, yet, you could feel you were both so close to climax. The coup de grâce came when he looped a hand around you to reach and rub your swollen clit, making you cry in ecstasy. You could feel your juices flowing, forming a puddle underneath you, in which you inevitably collapsed, Marshall on top of you.

The both of you stayed still and silent for a minute, taking the time to catch your breath. Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss there that made you shiver.

- Are you alright, love ? He asked as he got up.

- Y-yes, you replied as you were still struggling to breathe properly.

He chuckled and got up with a grunt, grabbing a towel to clean you and a water bottle to help you hydrate. You let him clean you and sat up on the bench, taking a good look at his naked form. In spite of rocking a buzz cut, he still looked disheveled and insanely sexy.

- You’re so hot, you said lovingly.

- Is that why you jumped on me ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe, you giggled. Been missing you, lately.

He gave you a smile and wrapped you in his strong arms before kissing you.

- Missed you too, he said. But you do realize you’re the main reason I’m doing all of this for, don’t you ?

- Am I ? You mused.

- Of course, he hummed. When I’m making music, I think of how much I want you to be proud. And when I’m here… my main motivation is you. I want to look good for you. You’re always on my mind.

You cooed and kissed him tenderly. He was too adorable.

- Well, I am proud of you. And I do think you look incredible me you complimented. I’m proud to be yours.

- I love you, he said. How about a shower before you need to go to work ?

- Ok, you said with a pout.

You got up and he grabbed you by the waist before leading you out of the home gym.

- I like fucking you in here, he hummed. I can’t believe we waited so long for this, though.

- We’ll have to do it again, you said with a smile. I can think of a few creative ways to use that gym equipment.

- Oh believe me, next time I’m putting those resistance bands to good use, he chuckled. I guess it completes the tour of the house. We’ve officially done it in every room of the house.

- Does that make me a permanent resident ? You grinned.

- It does, he chortled.

- Oh no, there’s one room missing, though, you said.

He looked at you with a frown, knowing exactly where you were going with this. He sternly shook his head as he led you to the stairs.

- Nope, he said. Don’t even thing about it. We’re not doing it in the hope studio. I have rules.

- We’ll see, you grinned.

- I’m not going to cave in, he warned.

- You know I like a challenge, you said innocently. Besides… you love me. You wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He chuckled, failing to keep the annoyed look on his face. You knew he loved you being all needy, and that there was only so much charm offensive he could resist.

- We’ll see, he hummed before bringing your hand to his lips and then placing a loving kiss on your ring finger.

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