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sturnioz · 10 days

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‘THE BEST MAN’ — CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

pairing. christopher sturniolo x fem!reader genre. fluff, smut

word count. 7.1k

❝this is a wedding! i'm trying to be classy today!❞

content warnings. plot with smut, explicit content, sex with a stranger(?), oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, bathroom sex, riding, dirty talk,

authors note. not sure if i wrote chris well :/ but first chris fic on the blog yay, i hope you enjoy

You remember the first day you met Jennie: her soft hair curled in waves down her back, the rosy red tint on the apples of her cheeks from the cold weather, and how her smile and eyes gleamed when she introduced her twelve-year-old self to you at the playground. She was dressed in a sage green sweatshirt and jeans, and even though it was a simple outfit choice, you couldn’t deny how gorgeous she looked in it.

You remember the first day you witnessed Jennie suffer through her first heartbreak; her hair thrown up messily with strands framing her face, her eyes were puffy and wet, and her chapped lips were curled into a frown. She had a sage green blanket wrapped around her form as she sat in her room, surrounded by endless amounts of tissues that were scattered from the door to her bed.

It’s crazy, you thought. Even at that moment, she still looked gorgeous.

You remember the first day Jennie had met ‘the one’: her hair tied back into a sleek ponytail, her eyes adorned with glittery makeup, and her lips full and glossy. She wore sage green jewellery that dangled from her ears and around her neck. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink as she locked eyes with a man at the grocery store, and a shy grin formed on her lips as she kept her gaze on his, completely mesmerised by his appearance. Despite her nervousness, she still looked gorgeous.

Today will be another unforgettable day—her wedding day.

You’re captivated by her beauty: her hair is curled in waves down her back, just like the day you first met her, with strands framing her face. Her makeup is light and gentle, her eyes shining with excitement as she patiently waits for the makeup artist to apply the finishing touches. Her body is covered in the most beautiful sage green wedding dress you have ever seen.

“Are you going to cry?” Jennie’s voice teases you as she meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and her bottom lip forms into a playful pout. “Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying.”

The makeup artist tuts, pointing her brush at you warningly. “No crying.”

You laugh and gently pat under your eyes, hoping not to feel any moisture. “I’m not going to cry. You look gorgeous, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” Jennie smiles softly in response to the compliment, expressing her appreciation. She also gives a quiet thanks to the makeup artist who had just finished touching up her face. Jennie leans forward to take a good look at herself in the mirror, pleased with the results. “My mother wasn’t too happy about me going for a coloured theme instead of the traditional white wedding, though.”

“It’s your wedding. You do whatever you want,” You reassure her, briefly glancing down at your silk, cream bridesmaid dress and smoothing your hands over the material. “Sage green has always been your colour, anyways. I would’ve been surprised if it wasn’t included in your wedding.”

Jennie beams in response, “Right! But on top of that, my dad wasn’t happy either. He wanted a traditional wedding in a church… He’s not exactly thrilled to be invited to his only child greenhouse wedding.”

“This wedding is for you and Justin, not your parents,” You say with a straight face, clearly not impressed with her parents' thoughts towards the special day. “If anyone needs to be happy and satisfied, it’s you two.”

“Well, I would be even happier if you brought a date—”

You interject, deadpanning, “Are you seriously bringing this up again?”

“It’s my wedding!” Jennie whines, turning around in her chair to face you with a pout. “How could you not bring a date? What happened to the guy you were speaking to on Tinder? I thought things were going well with him!”

You immediately scoff at the mention of him, shaking your head. “He was completely obsessed with talking about himself that I could barely get a word in, and he was constantly glued to his phone, looking at his ex-girlfriend’s social media posts. Hard pass.”

Jennie purses her lips in deep thought, absentmindedly playing with the end of her curls as she contemplates. You observe her, knowing that look all too well—the look of an idea brewing in her head or a plan already forming.

You prepare yourself to immediately disagree with whatever she’s about to suggest. However, before anything spills out, the door to the room slides open, revealing Jennie’s mother, who gasps at the sight of her daughter.

Taking it as your cue to give them some privacy, you announce quietly that you’re going to step outside for some fresh air. You briefly greet Jennie’s mother, offering a gentle rub on her arm as you pass by, and allow the door to slide shut behind you.

You take this as your cue to leave, wanting the two to be alone and experience a moment together. You mumble to Jennie that you’re going to step outside for some fresh air before giving a quick greeting to her mother, rubbing her arm gently as you slip past, allowing the door to slide shut behind you.

The exhale you breathe out is deep, and your heels click against the marble flooring of the building as you make your way outside and into the sun, the warm rays shining down, and you shield your eyes with your hand to block the bright beams. You gaze over at the greenhouse conservatory where guests are mingling outside or taking their seats inside.

A smile forms on your face as you spot familiar faces, waving to a few old classmates Jennie had invited, and you begin to walk towards them, intending to give them a warm welcome. But as you take a step forward, your right foot twists beneath you, your heel becoming lodged in a crack in the concrete below.

You smile when you see a few people you recognise, waving at a few old classmates that Jennie had invited and you go to walk towards them to give them all a proper welcome, until your right foot twists beneath you, your heel getting caught in the crack of the concrete below you.

A panicked ‘Holy shit!’ escapes from the side, and a hand reaches out, grabbing hold of your bicep to steady you and prevent any further damage. You wince at the slight twinge of pain in your ankle, but you’re relieved to find that nothing seems to be broken when you look down. You mutter curses under your breath for wearing heels that you’re not used to walking in.

You turn your head to thank your rescuer, expecting to see them chuckling at your clumsiness, but you’re taken aback when you see a boy with messy, brunette hair staring at you with wide, startled light blue eyes and his mouth agape.

His attractive appearance catches your attention, and since he’s an unfamiliar face, you’re intrigued to know who he is and what connection he might have to the wedding. But before you can utter a word, he breaks the silence between you both.

“You literally almost died.”

Your brow raises in amusement, “That’s a little dramatic.”

“No, I’m dead serious. It was a Final Destination moment waiting to happen. Ankle snapped in half, face smashed to the ground, all mangled, blood everything… I swear, I had the visions, dude.”

You blink, taken aback by his vivid imagination. “You have an interesting way with words.”

The corner of his lips curls into a mischievous grin. “And you have an interesting way of walking.”

“Touché,” You respond, pursing your lips as you glance down at your heels with a soft hum. “I blame them. They’re difficult to walk in.”

He chuckles, his eyes lingering on your heels for a moment, “I mean, I’d be nice and offer to swap but, uh, I don’t think your shoes go with my outfit.”

You playfully raise an eyebrow at him, taking the opportunity to thoroughly check him out. His white dress shirt is neatly tucked into his black trousers, accentuating his slim waist. His black blazer is left unbuttoned, and the matching coloured tie lays clean and ironed against his chest.

You can’t help but grin, “I don’t know… I think you’d look pretty good in a pair of heels.”

He bursts into genuine laughter, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as he runs his fingers through his hair. He then extends his hand towards you, introducing himself as Chris. You smile and take his hand in yours, introducing yourself in return, and the sound of him softly repeating your name sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Chris goes on to explain that he’s one of Justin’s brothers and also one of the best men chosen, mentioning that he’s the youngest triplet. You share with him how you know Jennie and that you’re her only bridesmaid, filling him in on the little details.

He listens intently as you explain your long-standing friendship with Jennie, smiling warmly at you and even adding his own comments about when he first met her, and how well she and Justin are matched, to which you instantly agree.

The conversation between you both flows so smoothly that you’re almost shocked, unable to fully understand how you can feel so comfortable and compatible with someone you’ve just met—you more or less wish you had met someone like Chris on Tinder instead.

“I think the ceremony is about to start,” Chris announces, glancing at his phone to check the time and the messages flooding his screen. He pockets his phone and wets his lips, a grin spreading across his face. He extends his arm towards you, offering it to you. “Can I walk you inside? You know, just in case you trip over your heels again or something.”

Feeling a bit shy but unable to contain your own grin, you nod in agreement. You slide your arm through his, your hand resting against his bicep. “Just in case, of course.”

The ceremony unfolded before your eyes, and it became the most beautiful moment you’ve ever witnessed.

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch Jennie make her way down the white carpeted aisle, arm in arm with her father, and a radiant smile gracing her lips. She looks absolutely stunning.

The second wave of emotion hits you as you witness the love and happiness between Jennie and Justin. Their whispered vows, the tender embrace, and the loving kiss they share leave you and many others in tears. The guests join in with boisterous claps and heartfelt cheers, celebrating their union.

And then the third, and thankfully final, wave of tears washes over you as the triplets take the stage for their best men’s speech. Chris, in his touching words, comments on the beauty of Jennie and the ceremony. Matt chimes in, expressing that in all the years of being Justin’s brother, he has never seen him this happy, thanking Jennie for the permanent smile on his face. Nick follows suit, expressing his eternal gratitude to her for bringing happiness to his brother’s life.

Third, and thankfully final, wave of waterworks happened when the triplets began their best-men speech, how Chris commented on how beautiful Jennie and the ceremony was, and how Matt was the one to claim that in the many years of being Justin’s brother, he has never seen him this happy and that the permanent smile on his face was all thanks to Jennie, to which Nick followed through and admitted how eternally grateful he would be for her giving his brother his happiness.

You weren’t going to cry again, although the food served at dinner tasted delicious, and you resist the urge to kneel down and praise the chefs for their outstanding work. Instead, you keep your emotions at bay and thank them as they come to clear the plates from your table.

Tess, a shared friend of yours and Jennie’s, strikes up a conversation with you during dinner, reminiscing on past memories and current. Then her eyes get fixed on the happy couple mingling with Justin’s family, and she comments;

“You know, I always knew Jennie would be the first one from our class to get married. I just didn’t expect it to be with someone slightly older,” Tess smacks her red, painted lips together and takes a sip of her wine, nursing the glass in her hand. “She’s always had this aura about her, you know? Meeting the perfect guy young, falling in love, getting married in her twenties, living in a fancy home with a white picket fence, husband, kids—maybe even a dog or two. God, I wish I had my life planned out like that.”

You raise an eyebrow and offer a gentle reminder, “Well, nothing is stopping you. How are things going with you and Ryan?”

Tess gives you a look, “Do you see a ring on my hand?”

“Not yet,” A chuckle leaves your lips, pushing Tess’s hand out of your face as she waves it in front of you.

She laughs, retracting her hand back to tuck her hair behind her ears. “What about you? Have you been seeing anyone recently?”

“No,” You can’t help but sound a bit bitter as you respond, not in the mood to recount the string of disappointing Tinder dates and unsatisfying hookups that have left you feeling frustrated. “I’m going to live a miserable single life. Maybe I’ll get a dog to make me feel less lonely.”

“The last time we spoke, you were seeing Jennie’s cousin, right? Was his name Liam?” His name makes you grimace and Tess snorts, covering her mouth to conceal the rest of her amusement. “Was it that bad?”

“To be fair, he did warn me that us fucking in his apartment would be risky because of his roommate being there.”

Tess’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? Does his roommate never leave the apartment?”

You let out a frustrated wail, frowning at the memory. “No! They share a fucking room. Their beds are literally pressed together, toe to toe!” Tess is unable to control her laughter now, almost spitting her wine across the table as she splutters, but you take no notice as you shiver at the memory. “They turned their perfectly capable extra bedroom into a makeshift gym… it was scary.”

“Please, your dates can’t be all that bad,” Tess says, and you almost break into the story of your much recent date that you had explained to Jennie prior, but your attention is drawn to a soft call of your name. You turn in your seat to see Chris standing behind you, wearing a boyish yet kind grin on his lips.

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to realise that he’s asking if the chairs beside you are free, and you nod dumbly, offering him a smile as you expect him to grab the vacant chair and take it wherever he needs to go. But to your surprise, Chris slides the chair out from beneath the table and sits beside you.

He begins to explain, “Justin and Jennie are talking with her family. Nick is taking pictures, and Matt’s with our parents. It was getting a little boring over there, so I hope you don’t mind me bothering you instead.”

“Not at all,” You smile warmly at him, “The speech was amazing, by the way.”

Tess chimes in without missing a beat, her tone teasing. “She cried,” She nods towards you, and you playfully nudge her with your shoulder. “But she’s right, though. You and your brothers did a great job with the speeches.”

Chris grins in response, running his fingers through his hair to push the curls away from his face. You can’t help but admire the sight, a desire to reach out and run your own fingers through his locks briefly crossing your mind. But you keep your hands occupied with holding your wine glass, maintaining a respectful distance.

Tess’s boyfriend, Ryan, soon joins the table, and he immediately strikes up a conversation with Chris. The two of them engage in a series of discussions and topics that leave Chris laughing loudly, unable to keep himself upright, his shoulder brushing against yours every so often, and you can’t help but feel flustered as his warmth radiates towards you.

You are so embarrassingly touch starved.

As the conversation continues, Ryan suddenly excuses himself, mentioning that he’ll treat the entire table to drinks. Chris offers to accompany him, and he dips his head low in your direction to quietly ask about your drink preference, but Ryan’s hand clamps down on Chris’s shoulder, assuring him that he knows everyone’s favourite drinks. With a firm tug, Ryan pulls Chris towards the bar, leaving you momentarily disappointed and longing for more interactions with him.

Tess observes the duo walking towards the bar, wearing a mischievous smirk on her face. She then shifts her gaze to you and comments, “He’s cute. Like, really cute.”

You nod, a light laugh escaping your lips. “I know,” You admit, your voice filled with amusement. “I actually met him earlier. He saved me from tripping over these heels like an idiot.”

“Wow… so, you literally fell for him.”

“Funny,” You snort, finding her words amusing. Finishing the last sip of your wine, you place the empty glass on the table and wipe the corner of your lips with a napkin. Your attention shifts towards the bar, where Chris and Ryan are engrossed in conversation, both laughing. “Fuck,” You mutter softly. “He really is cute.”

“Ask for his number,” Tess suggests, “Or bring him home with you later. Keep your bed warm.”

You playfully gasp in response, “This is a wedding! I’m trying to be classy today.”

“Oh, I’m far from classy,” Tess scoffs, sending a sultry look towards Ryan, who meets her eyes from across the room and winks at her. “I almost jumped Ryan outside when I saw him dressed in the suit.”

You burst into laughter at Tess’s comment, but before you can fully respond, Chris and Ryan return back to the table, carrying a tray of drinks. They distribute the beverages, and you patiently wait your turn, smiling at Chris as he takes his seat beside you, holding two glasses of red wine in his hand.

He hands one over to you, “You cool with red wine?”

You hum, taking the glass between your fingers with a smile. “I’m cool.”

Chris returns your smile, his grin widening as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “Cool.”

The drinks start to flow through your system, and soon you find yourself becoming increasingly tipsy and talkative. Engaging in lively conversations with the table, the topics range from various subjects to the details of the wedding itself. Jennie and Justin finally join in, accompanied by Nick and Matt.

Chris, too, seems to be in a similar state of tipsiness, becoming more talkative and touchy.

You don’t mind when you feel Chris unintentionally lean against you, his body pressing lightly to yours as he listens intently to Jennie she speaks. He hangs onto her every word, his laughter filling the air whenever Justin interjects with a joke or flirty comment, or when Matt and Nick chime in with their own commentary.

During this interaction, you can’t help but notice how animated Chris becomes when he speaks. His hands are in constant motion, emphasising his points, clapping them together, or even slamming them down on surfaces when something particularly funny is said.

You’re taken aback when Chris dramatically sighs in response to one of his brothers’ teasing and drops his hands, unintentionally resting them on your thigh. The warmth of his palm against your skin and the gentle tapping of his fingers send a rush of sensations through you. It’s a moment that catches your full attention, leaving you unsure of how to react.

Chris seems oblivious to what he’s done, perhaps too caught up in the conversation or the effects of the drinks. You contemplate whether to subtly let him know or allow the touch to continue, as you find yourself enjoying the comforting and slightly arousing sensation. It feels nice, and a part of you doesn’t want it to end.

You bite back any type of response or comment, and you hide your grin behind the rim of your wine glass, taking a sip while ignoring Tess’s lingering gaze and her teasing nudge against your side. Jennie also catches on quickly, wiggling her eyebrows in your direction before leaning into Justin’s ear to whisper something.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes when Justin gazes at you, likely picking up on the situation as well.

The attention shifts away from the two of you and back to the ongoing conversation, allowing you to exhale deeply, relieved that the focus has been diverted.

However, Chris notices your sigh and leans in close, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he whispers in concern. “You good? Did you have too much to drink or something?”

You turn to face him with a smile, assuring him, “I’m okay.” His worry immediately fades as he returns your smile.

Just as he’s about to say something else, a small movement causes his hand to shift on your lap. Chris’s head drops down, his eyes widening comically as he realises where his hand has been this entire time.

“Oh shit,” He slowly withdraws his hand, “Oh. Wow. Damn. I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” You interrupt, wanting to ease any embarrassment or discomfort he may be feeling. You gather your courage and place your hand on top of his, causing his hand to settle back onto your thigh. You notice his throat bob as he swallows, his eyebrow twitching as his gaze shifts between your hands and your eyes. Wanting to reassure him, you repeat, “It’s okay.”

“Yeah? You sure?” Chris asks, and despite wanting to make sure you were fully okay with the situation, he turns his hand beneath yours, palm to palm, his fingers twitching with the urge to intertwine.

But you take the initiative and lace your fingers together, holding his hand firmly in your grasp. Chris bites down on his cheek and glances away, unable to hide the goofy smile that spreads across his lips, and his grip tightens on your hand, his thumb gently grazing across your knuckles. he turns his hand around beneath yours, palm to palm, his fingers twitching against your own as he was desperate to lace them together, but it was you who took that initiative.

“Oh. I love this song!” Jennie exclaims loudly at the sound of a familiar song playing in the venue, drawing everyone's attention to the dance floor. She pulls Justin up with her and looks over at you. “You coming?”

You find yourself torn between wanting to dance and not wanting to let go of Chris’s hand just yet, and a sense of selfishness washes over you.“You go dance together. I’m going to finish up my drink.”

Jennie smirks and sends a sly wink your way before she and Justin make their way to the dance floor. Meanwhile, Ryan stands up with Tess on his arm and asks Chris if he’s coming too. Chris hesitates for a moment before declining, his hand subtly squeezing yours beneath the table, a small gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Ryan shrugs and accepts Chris’s decision, along with Matt and Nick, as they all head towards the dance floor. Nick, in particular, cranes his head back towards you and Chris, giving his brother a cheesy thumbs up to which you almost snort at.

As you watch the guests on the dance floor, a feeling of warmth fills your heart. The happiness radiates from the people around you, especially Jennie and Justin, who are wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing whispered words and sweet kisses.

Lost in your observation, you fail to notice Chris trying to get your attention amidst the music. It’s only when he leans in close, his voice hushed, that you become aware of his attempt to talk to you. Struggling to hear him, you lean in ever closer, feeling a shiver run down your neck as his warm breath brushes against your skin. He asks if he can have your number.

For a quick moment, you’re stunned by his request, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events. However, you quickly regain your composure and nod your head in agreement, a smile forming on your lips. Chris wastes no time, swiftly retrieving his phone from his pocket with his free hand as the other remains intertwined with yours.

He hands you his phone, already unlocked and ready for you to put in your number. You can’t help but smile even wider as you type in your name and number, playfully adding a heart emoji to your contact information. Chris grins upon seeing it, and you notice in surprise that he doesn’t even attempt to remove the heart or replace it with a different emoji. He simply shuts off his phone and pockets it, leaving the heart intact.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you bask in each other’s company, listening to the music, watching others dance and mingle around you. You’re typically the first one on the dance floor, letting the rhythm and the music move you. But right now, you’re content sitting beside the cute boy with your hands locked together.

Curiosity gets the best of you, and you decide to break the silence as you ask, “So, how come you didn’t want to dance?” You glance at him, taking a sip of your wine..

“I’m fine right here,” He replies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Why didn’t you want to dance?”

You muster up the courage to be bold with your answer, “Because I didn’t want to let go of your hand.”

“Wow,” Chris’s laughter fills the air, and he unconsciously swipes his tongue across his bottom lip as he tries to conceal his obvious grin. “You’re bold,” He says. “You kind of make me feel nervous sometimes.”

Raising an eyebrow, you press,, “A good nervous or a bad nervous?”

Chris exhales deeply, a genuine smile finally breaking through as he meets your gaze, “A really good nervous,”

Feeling more confident in yourself, you lean in closer to Chris, pressing your side against his. He laughs and allows you to do as you please, his fingers squeezing around your own in response. The close proximity between you both makes him feel a little hot beneath the collar.

Lost in the moment and distracted by you, Chris forgets that he’s still holding his glass in his other hand. As your face draws closer, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip, he accidentally loosens his grip on the stem of the glass when your nose brushes against his.

The drink spills over his lap, causing him to let out a surprised noise and jerk back in shock. He quickly releases your hand to grab the now half-empty glass, staring at the mess he’s created, a slight pink hue colouring his cheeks.

Chris is clearly embarrassed, sitting in stunned silence, not uttering a single word as he assesses the damage. Meanwhile, you gasp loudly, your hand flying to cover your mouth in shock.

Apologies spill out of you in rapid speed as you realise the consequences of your actions, blaming yourself for diverting Chris’s attention and causing the spill. You hastily grab a napkin from the table, tapping his lap in an attempt to dry his pants, all while continuing to whisper your sorrys. Despite the fact that his pants are black and won’t show a stain, you still feel responsible and guilty.

Chris’s eyes widen as he watches you, body frozen and his mouth dry as he feels your touch pressing against him. He’s unable to move or speak, caught off guard when he feels you press against his cock. It’s only when you start to wipe that he finally reacts, snatching your wrist in his grasp and emitting a choked groan.

“I’m good,” He strains, his voice tight as he tries to regain his composure. You immediately pull back once you realise how you were touching him. Embarrassed, you remain silent, unable to meet his eyes as you look away, avoiding any further interaction despite the thought of making him hard just from some mere touching leaves an ache between your legs, and you press your thighs together as you clear your throat.

Desperate to change the topic or find an escape route from the embarrassment, you suggest getting Chris another drink, glancing at his half-empty glass and then at the bar. However, Chris interrupts you before you can finish your offer, coughing and shaking his head.

“No, it’s good, you’re fine,” He insists, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, pulling at his blazer to hide the bulge forming in his pants. “I’m, like, sorry… by the way.”

Quickly, you reassure him that he doesn’t need to apologise, taking the blame upon yourself for distracting him and causing the drink to spill.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Chris cuts you off once again, making it clear that he’s referring to something else entirely. You swallow thickly, realising what he’s alluding to, and you shake your head, wanting to assure him that it’s okay. However, he continues, stumbling over his words. “I’m talking about me—okay, shit, look. It just happens, you know, and when you were touching me—”

You interrupt him this time, “It’s flattering, really,” you admit with a small chuckle to escape. “It’s fine, I promise. I’m sorry for touching you, though. I was only trying to help… and I understand that it's a totally normal reaction, so don’t worry. It’s cute.”

Chris stares at your face in silence for a moment before responding in a lighthearted tone. “Did you just call me getting hard cute?”

You grimace at your choice of words, “Pretend you didn’t hear that. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Before you can start rambling and making excuses for your mistake, your voice trails off as you feel Chris’s hand slide back into yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you bite back a gasp as he gently guides your intertwined hands back to his lap, causally resting the back of your hand against the bulge in his pants. It makes your head spin.

You need him—no, you want him.

The thoughts that run through your mind and the needy ache between your legs has you desperate to be touched, to be fucked, all by him.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” You announce, noticing the rejected look on Chris’s face as he loosens his hold on your hand. However, you quickly tighten your grip, not wanting to let go. “Do you want to come with me?”

Chris looks confused. “What? To the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Do you, like, need help peeing or something?” Chris asks, unsure of your intentions.

“No, I don’t need to pee,” You can’t help but laugh, causing Chris to give you a puzzled look. Your attention is fully on him now, your eyes dark and tone sultry. “I just really want to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh…” Chris blinks, his eyebrows knitting together as he’s even more confused. But then, it all seems to dawn on him what you’re hinting towards, and his eyebrows raise slightly. “Oh.”

“So,” Your voice is laced with anticipation. “Do you want to come to the bathroom with me?”

Chris nods eagerly, his grip on your hand tightening. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

You pull Chris up from his seat as soon as he gives you the confirmation you’ve been waiting for and you navigate through the crowded dance floor, heading towards the bathroom area.

Chris is hot on your heels, his hand still tightly clasped in yours, and almost tripping over his own shoes due to the speed you’re walking in, and him trying to keep up with you, ensuring not to stray too far from each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Justin and Jennie watch with amused smirks on their faces, exchanging celebratory fist bumps before sharing a sweet kiss of their own.

Finally reaching the bathroom area, Chris chuckles deeply as you yank him inside a vacant stall, closing and locking the door behind you. He takes in his surroundings first—the clean white marbled floor and walls painted with green vines.

“Wow,” Chris murmurs, seemingly impressed. “This bathroom is actually pretty neat—what are you doing?”

Your fingers are pulling at the buttons on his pants as you simply state, “I’m going to suck you off.”

“Yeah?” Chris hums, licking at his lips as he watches you drop to your knees, and his eyebrows pull together in concern when he notices your bridesmaid dress is wrinkling and losing its pristine condition. “What about your dress?”

“You’re worried about my dress? That’s cute,” You smile up at him. You free his cock from his trousers and boxers, and you wrap your fingers around the base which causes him to hiss through his teeth at the contact. “I don’t really care about my dress right now. All I care about is making you feel good.”

“Alright,” Chris slumps down on the closed lid of the toilet seat, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks down at you with hazy vision. “Go on. Do what you want.”

The moment he gives you the permission, you take him into your mouth, and a string of curse words leaves his lips, running his fingers through his hair as he stares down at you.

His cock feels hot and heavy on your tongue, and you take him down your throat, sucking him in and squeezing your fingers around the base that you struggle to fit all the way into your mouth. He’s big, bigger than you expected, and it drives you wild—the ache in between your legs becoming almost unbearable, but you want to play with him a little longer, to taste him more.

With Chris watching you through lidded eyes, it fuels you to put on a show for him, and that’s exactly what you do. You pull back, close your lips around his tip, sucking and using your tongue around his sensitive head. He’s panting above you, a throaty moan leaving him when you take him deeper into your mouth, jerking him off with each twist of your fist.

“You can touch me,” You remind him, a string of spit connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock when you move back to catch your breath. “Touch me, Chris.”

“Man, you’re insane,” Chris laughs deeply, and his hand comes down to rest on the back of your head. His fingers thread your through hair, gripping at the roots as he pushes you further down on his cock, and you gag a little when he hits the back of your throat so suddenly. But you breathe steadily through your nose, hollowing your cheeks around him, drool seeping past your lips. “Fucking filthy girl.”

You hum around his cock at his words, and you shuffle closer to kneel better between his open legs. The slight sting on your scalp from his tight grip on your hair urges you to do better, to give him everything you've got. The burn in the back of your throat is pleasurable and you moan, causing his hips to jerk forward at the vibration, and you take him in deeper.

“Oh, fuck me,” Chris grunts, pushing your head down. “Fuck. Just like that—god.”

You pull off of him with a lewd pop, and you use your hand to jerk him off as your glossy lips form into a sweet smile. “You’re noisy, you know.”

“What do you expect?” Chris hums with a lighthearted laugh, and his hand comes down from the top of your head to caress your cheek, his thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “I got a pretty girl on her knees in front of me sucking my cock, the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Your heart swells in your chest as you repeat, “Pretty girl?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods, grinning down at you. “The prettiest, ma.”

The choked groan that leaves him when you let go of his cock almost makes you take him into your hands again, but you’re too needy for him now—desperate to be filled by him.

Usually, you would scold yourself for allowing such a bare minimum compliment to get you so hot and bothered, but you didn’t care, not when it sounded so fucking good coming from him.

Chris watches with wild eyes as you yank your underwear down your legs, discarding them to the side and bunching the hem of your dress up to your waist as you ease yourself down on his lap. One of his hands comes to rest at your hip, and the other grips your jaw, finally bringing you in for a first kiss.

The kiss is sweet at first—soft and delicate, and Chris even takes a moment to lean back to gaze at your face with a small grin on his face. The grip he has on your jaw tightens a little, causing your lips to pucker up and he hums, nose brushing against yours before he claims your lips again.

This time, it’s more frantic. You’re biting at his bottom lip, his tongue dips into your mouth, teeth clashing, and his hands move to fist the material of your dress, bunching it higher over your hips as your own hand dips between your body to line his cock at your entrance, and you sink down onto him.

Chris grunts into your mouth while you moan, the feeling of him filling you so deep making your toes curl. Your arms wind around his shoulders to keep yourself steady as you leisurely bounce on his lap, and Chris’s grip is tight on your hips as he thrusts up into you.

He’s kissing you breathless, and you’re too drunk on his lips and cock to pull away for air. You lace your fingers through his curls as you fuck youtself down on him, putting all of your energy in riding him and it’s Chris that breaks the kiss to curse loudly with a moan, panting as he stares at you with wide eyes and red, swollen lips.

“You feel good,” Chris grunts. You clamp around him, whining softly at his compliment. “Fuck, ma… you’re so fucking tight f’me.”

“You’re being noisy again.” You repeat from before in a teasing tone, even though you’re not particularly quiet yourself. You’re unable to keep your noises at a minimum as you moan loudly when he matches the rhythm of your hips.

Chris laughs, “Shut up.”

Admittedly, you like the way he sounds edging closer and closer to release, and you would like to relish in the sound a little more, but when you hear the bathroom door suddenly open, your eyes widen as your hand flies down from his hair to slap over his mouth to silence him. Chris stares up at you in alarm as someone walks into the stall beside yours.

You’re still lifting and dropping yourself back down on him, and he’s still fucking up into you to keep the pace despite not wanting to get caught. But you’re thankful that whoever is beside you has flushed the toilet the second you let out a wail when his cock hits a spot within you, and Chris is quick to silence you too, pressing his hand over your own mouth and staring into your eyes.

You’re both panting heavily behind each other’s hands, and you can make out the sound of water running from the sink tap before it shuts off, then the bathroom door opens and creaks shut behind them, leaving you both alone once again.

Still, neither of you move your hand, still keeping each other silent despite the muffled noises you’re both making.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm, and you wonder if Chris feels the same. You get the answer when his eyes roll to the back of his head as he groans, his hand falling from your mouth to hold your waist and pull you down onto him.

As your hand moves from his mouth to touch his face, Chris finally speaks, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too,” You agree, exhaling deeply. “Cum. Cum inside me.”

The corner of Chris’s lips twitch upwards, “Yeah? You want that?”

You nod eagerly, “Yes. Please. Fill me up.”

“Fuck, alright.” Chris grunts, lurching forwards to slot his lips over yours, and his tongue dips into your mouth, gliding with yours as he cums deep within. He keeps moving you against him to reach your own high, and you wail as your orgasm hits you, convulsing around his cock as you hump his lap.

You’re heavily heavily, desperate to catch your breath as you break away from his lips, and he leaves messy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. His hands loosen on your hips to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest and yours slide around his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair as your body trembles.

It’s silent between you both as you embrace each other, and Chris is still kissing your neck with his hands rubbing your back comfortingly, and you melt into his arms. You feel relaxed and content, even though you should be both cleaning yourself up and leaving before anyone else could walk in.

“Just so you know, I don’t do this,” Chris mumbles in the crevice of your neck. Your eyebrows knit together, and you arch back to look at his face, and he smiles at your confused expression. “I mean, like, meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. I don’t do that.”

“I don’t either,” You admit, chewing your bottom lip. “I usually go on at least one date before I do that.”

“Noted,” Chris grins sluggishly. “I’ll take you next time.”

His nonchalant tone makes your heart flutter, and you wonder if he knows what he has just said to you, and if he’s serious on potentially seeing you again. You want to question it, or at least have him repeat it, but you keep your lips pressed together when you notice Chris’s attention is brought to the décor of the stall like it was the first time he came in.

“This bathroom is really nice, though. I wonder if Matt and Nick know about this.”

#©sturnioz #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut

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plaguechyld · 1 year

Text

Dom!Reader x Sub!Muzan

Content contains: Overstim, Dom reader, gender neutral reader, Spanking, Punishment, Dom/Sub relationship, Sub Muzan, Basically just straight porn

I was planning on making this probably about twice the length but I’m lazy. Also I don’t know how to end smuts that aren’t complete (unfinished sex scenes) so… Awkward cut off, yay.

18+ content ahead!

His ruby red eyes are clouded with crystalline tears as his fluffy eyelashes stick together from the liquid. A whiny and needy sound escapes from the lips of his mouth, a desperate beg to tell you to do something. Muzan bucks his hips after being restrained from doing so for so long, he doesn’t care that he wasn’t supposed to. He was desperate, desperate for the agonizingly sluggish pace of the machine to speed up. For you to do something, anything else to him. However the demon freezes when he hears a tutting sound coming from you.

“Muzan… I told you not to move, this is the third time already that you’ve disobeyed me.” You say in an almost condescending way as they rub the demon’s cheek. Muzan shakes slightly and tries to bury his face in your shoulder, however the position the two were in prevents him from doing such things. The ravenette was sitting between your legs with his own legs spread. You had a tight grip on his thighs, holding him still now. Most prominently, there was a device attached to his dick. It sucked in an almost painfully slow manner. The inconsistency of the pulls on his dick had ruined multiple of his orgasms, causing the demon progenitor to fall into the state he was in currently. However the machine didn’t stop, it sucked away at him as inconsistent as it was. The red eyed man shakes and whimpers when he feels you rubbing his inner thighs. Your fingers were so close to his dick but they never touched it, merely stimulated the skin next to it. Muzan whines softly, he’s so desperate for the machine to stop or speed up, but he refuses to swallow his pride. You coo to him and gives his neck a kiss while you keep rubbing his thighs, making Muzan choke out a sob.

“P-please… anything else, bite me, cut me, hit me, spank me, just no more…” Muzan says in a shaky and whiny tone as his voice breaks at the end of his sentence. It had been agonizing, being held here and forced to continue this punishment. It made the demon king want to rip his hair out, to do anything. You hum while you continue to rub his thighs in that slow way that teases him just right. The black haired demon is practically shaking like a leaf in the wind, waiting for you to do something, to say something.

“Please! P-please…” He begs, finally, after resisting his urges for so long he finally caves. However you merely chuckles softly.

“Now, darling, why should I? You broke the rules and disobeyed me three times. Why should I give you what you want?” You murmur in his ear which causes the black haired man to whine. Muzan trembles as a fresh wave of tears spill from his ruby red eyes.

“I-I’m sorry! I’ll be good… Just.. please, please!” He begs before shuddering when he feels you trace the skin where the pump is attached. A moan slips out of him as he desperately tries to nuzzle his face into your shoulder, a habit he had picked up when the you two were intimate with each other. The human narrows their eyes slightly, as if debating to give in to the demon’s pleas. After several moments that felt like years to Muzan, the slayer finally decides. Muzan moans in relief when the slayer removes the pump from his dick but tenses up when he in laid stomach down over their thighs with his ass exposed. He knew what was coming and started to wiggle while grabbing one of the human’s hands in his own.

“W-what?! No no, please, not this!” He sobs out as he feels a strong slap on his ass. The slap leaves a pinkish handprint on his pale rear. He jolts when he feels another strong slap across his ass which makes him make a moanish yelp. Tears spill out of his red eyes as his black hair sticks to his forehead. He trembles and yelps once again when he feels another slap on his ass. He knew that the slayer was doing this on purpose, keeping from being able to hide his face in their shoulder while you punish him. He shakes when he sees you retrieve a paddle to use on his already red ass.

“N-no-” Muzan is cut off by you as you rub his perky rear with the palm of your hand.

“Count. If you mess up I’ll start over.” You say before bringing the paddle down on his ass, making him cry out and moan.

“O-one..” Another smack with the paddle is delivered.

“Ah!- Two!” More and more tears slip out of the demon king’s eyes as you repeat the action.

“Three!” Muzan moans loudly while he balls his fists. The black haired man is shaking as you continue his punishment. By the time it ends he’s a crying mess, tears staining his cheek as he is brought to sit on your thigh. You hum before pulling Muzan into a deep and passionate kiss. The demon progenitor kisses back instantly and desperately licks at your tongue. You wrap your arms around his lower back as he holds onto your shoulders with a needy urge. Muzan’s moans are muffled as you two make out, the black haired demon kisses the other like a starved man. He only pulls back when you deliver a tug on his rather sensitive dick. He pulls back and buries his face in your shoulder while moaning.

“Muzan, lay on your back.” You say with that same smirk. Muzan fumbles and almost falls face first onto the soft blankets in his rush to get into the desired position, however he’s able to lay down just how you want him to. You slide between the demon’s legs and he almost cries in relief when he feels the familiar sensation of your fingers slipping in his tight hole. He clenches down on them, trying to take them deeper and deeper while you curl and move your fingers in a scissoring motion. This makes you chuckle softly.

“Are we eager, my king?” You ask the demon in a sweet tone but don’t be mistaken, it was dripping with lust. The mere tone of your voice makes the red eyed man whimper and let out several quiet moans. He nods his head quickly, it was pitiful to see such a strong man, a demon, reduced to a mere whore. Muzan’s legs quiver slightly as he’s more sensitive from the punishments he went through.

“Please… fuck me.” He mumbles with a far away look in his ruby red eyes. There are still tears threatening to spill over onto his already wet cheeks when you pull out your fingers. A moan slips out of Muzan when he feels you finally pushing into him. He grabs onto your back and rests his legs against your hips. You start moving your hips like a piston, making Muzan cry out loudly and cling to you as you ram in and out of his hole. He loves how you don’t treat him like glass but instead like a piece of meat. The black haired male practically screams when you start to thrust directly into his prostate. His nails dig into your back while he moans and begs loudly.

The once quiet night was now filled with obscene and explicit sounds coming from the strongest demon in existence, caused by a mere human.

“S’good!” Muzan cries out while you shows no signs of slowing down. It was as if he was made to be the your toy, to be used like a common whore. Slowly but surely, the demon can feel the familiar feeling of a knot in his stomach. He knows that he’s close, but can’t say anything because of the force of the thrusts that he was taking.

“C-Close!-” He moans loudly, even louder than before. If any demon saw this happening, his reputation would surely be in shambles, but right now the king didn’t care, all he cared about was the pleasure that was flooding through him. Tears were sliding down his cheeks as his eyes rolled back into his head and his back arched.

“Cum for me, my king.” You say while continuing the harsh and brutal pace of your thrusts. This is all that the demon needs to hear as his coil snaps, he paints his own stomach with his seed as he screams out. However much to his surprise, you continue the pace. His body grows overstimulated and he can’t help but beg.

“P-please! I’m sensitive!-” He sobs out, tears staining his cheeks again while he clings even tighter to you as you relentlessly pound him into the mattress. You however doesn’t show any sign of stopping. He’s so pretty, his black hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, clear tears spilling from his ruby red eyes and staining his flushed cheeks. His legs are shaking badly as he keeps moaning loudly, holding onto you for dear life.

“So needy, you wanted this, demon. You wanted me to fuck your tight little hole so badly, so take it.” You say in a condescending way. Muzan lets out loud sobs at the your words, his whole body shaking from overstimulation. He grips you tighter, desperately trying to pull you closer to him.

“Pl- please don’t be mean… J-just fuck me..” He whined out pathetically. He was just so pretty like this, overstimulated, crying and needy.

“Oh Muzan… I’m going to ruin you.” You say as he lets out another sob, legs quaking.

#sub kny #sub muzan #dom reader #sub character #first tumblr post #kind of #Smut #kny smut

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if-mirrormine · 10 months

Text

the morning after

summary: the follow up to drunken confessions

pairing: grayson x mc

word count: idk bestie alot

based on the request: you had a drabble that was grayson drunkenly confession his love to mc at a party and it was chefs kiss and i remember sending an anon message saying that i think a follow up of the next day would be amazing. i can't find the ask anymore but think in my original anon message it was something like they talk about it and mc reciprocated and they get together the next day (yay fluff) and it's either the day before or the day of callies birthday party and they're planning on telling everyone at the party but oh no mc never shows up and grayson only got to live his dream for a few hours before mc goes missing for 10 years be (yay angst). You replied like "sounds like a good drabble idea" and bestie I haven't stopped thinking about it since

**unedited//this is kinda all over the place and idk how good it really is but i think my eyes will start bleeding if i look at it any longer**

request a drabble here!

grayson wakes with a start and a pounding in his head that rocks his senses. he pauses, willing his headache away and failing miserably. groaning, he slumps back onto the bed and drags a hand through his hair.

he feels movement beside him and squinting in the harsh light of the morning, he sees mc sitting next to him on top of the duvet, their laptop on their lap. they pause their work to smile at him.

"morning, sleepyhead!" they say as they reach for a glass of water on the side table and hand it to him. "i was wondering when you'd rise from your coma."

he takes the glass and drinks from it greedily, the cool water soothing his dry throat. "what time is it?"

they hum. "a little past eight."

he groans again, leaning over the mc to put the glass back on the side table. "why didn't you wake me up sooner?

they scoff before going back to their work. "you don't think i tried? you sleep like the dead, gray."

he hums in reply and lies back down on his pillows, his arm slung over his eyes. now that he's more awake, his headache has worsened to a steady throbbing behind his eyes. his mind drifts back to the night before and everything he did to get to where he is now. he remembers the party and drinking way more than he usually would, losing the mc somewhere along the way and reuniting with them. telling them he’s in love with them. twice.

embarrassment takes over, flooding his sense and twisting his stomach. he can’t believe he was so reckless, he should never be allowed to drink again. the thought alone of what they must think of him is makes him groan again, his face buried in hands.

"gray?" they say, nudging his side. "you okay over there?"

i don't think i'll ever be okay again, he thinks to himself but all that manages to come out of his mouth is a muffled, petulant no.

they shuffle on the bed next to him, the old bed frame creaking slightly and he peeks out from under his arm to see them leaning over him. "is it your head? i think there's some paracetamol in the medicine cabinet, if you want." he's quick to shake his head, groaning when that only exacerbates his headache, and they chuckle softly. "only you would martyr yourself over a hangover," they tut, staring down at him in amusement. "wait here, i'll go get them for you."

they're off the bed and out of his room before he can even comprehend it. with another groan, he sits up and, glancing down at himself, he realises that he's in pajama bottoms and one of his sleep shirts. he barely remembers getting home let alone changing into sleepwear which means the mc mustve done it for him. somehow that's even more embarassing than his drunken confession.

"here you go, gronk," they say, suddenly reappearing next to him with two white tablets and his half filled glass of water. he takes the medication and swallows it down in one fluid motion before turning to look at his best friend with a critical eye. they don't seem to be out of sorts. there's no pity in their eyes when they look at him, put off by the idea of him being in love with them for the past six years. no, it's as if the whole thing didn't even happen. they're still mc, he's still grayson. best friends. nothing more, nothing less. for all his hoping though, he knows that's not the case.

"so," he starts, clearing his throat, his anxiety at the situation rises to new levels. "about last night -"

"you mean your love confession?" they clarify and his eyes widen exponentially. this can't be real, he thinks. lord, if you're out there, kill me now please. despite his embarrassment though, they can't keep from smiling at them. "i was wondering when you'd bring that up."

"i- um... i-i don't know what you're talking about," he says quickly, his face burning red and his eyes anywhere but their face.

they pout at him, reaching out to take his face in their hand. "don't chicken out on me now, donohue. you know how long i've been waiting for you to finally say those words?"

he's looking at them now, only half because they're forcing him to by holding his face, and he can't believe the loving smile on their lips. "what?" is all he manages to get out and it makes them chuckle, his cheeks somehow getting even warmer.

"gosh, do i need to spell it for you, gray?" they move their hands from his face to his shoulders, where they proceed to lightly shake him, mindfully of his pounding head. "i love you too!"

"you do?" the words don't make sense in his ears, in his mind. the mc loving him? no, that can't be. he must be going deaf. or crazy. yeah, definitely crazy. sure, he's a little young to be going senile already but there's obviously no other explanation, right?

they laugh again and return their hands to his face. without another word spoken between them, they pull him close, kissing him softly and stealing all the air from his lungs.

he freezes momentarily, unable to comprehend that this is truly happening, but his hands are settling on their hips and pulling them closer. im dead, he thinks. ive died and gone to heaven.

it feels like an eternity has passed before they pull away. still stunned, he peels his eyes open to look at them, that smile of theirs that he loves so much spurring one of his own into existence.

"believe me now?" they quip and he shakes his head slowly, his lips parted and still tingling.

"no," he says, breathless. "maybe if you kissed me again."

amused, they lean forward and give him a peck on the lips, so quick it might as well have not happened at all, and he pouts, following after them when they leave.

"don't tease me," he whines and their smile widens slightly. "why didn't you say anything?"

they shrug. "i was too nervous. guess that makes us even, huh?"

he wraps his arms around them and pulls them onto his lap, resting his forehead against theirs. "say it again."

they hum, their arms going around his neck. "that i love you?"

"yes."

"i love you, gray."

"i love you more."

they're about to protest when he kisses them again. he kisses them long and soft, like he's wanted to every day for past six years and he doesn't stop until his lungs are empty. and even then, he attempts to go back for more.

laughing, they press their index against his lips as they sit back on his lap. "easy tiger," they say. "don't want you suffocating on me."

again, he pouts. "'m making up for lost time." he doesn't know where the boldness - or the neediness - comes from but he chooses not to think about it too much. he's waited for this moment for a long time and now that's it here, he doesn't want it to end.

"sorry, gray; ive gotta put my foot down here," they laugh. "ive got a busy day of errands and you're already late for class."

"i can miss one class," he attempts but they simply shush him again, now using their whole hand to cover his mouth.

"not on your life, mister." against all of his muffled protests, they climb off his lap, moving to the other side of the bed where their laptop sits, turning it off before looking back at him. "youve waited so long, what's a few more hours until callie's party?"

he shakes his head vehemently, ignoring his headache for time being. "nope, can't do it," he insists. "i'll die before then."

"you're so dramatic," they say with a roll of their eyes before moving to kiss his forehead. "school first. and then i'm all yours at seven."

"do you promise?"

"pinky swear."

hooking his pinky finger around theirs, he can't keep the smile off his face. "okay. seven o'clock then."

"seven o'clock," they agree and with one last chaste kiss, he watches them climb off his bed and leave his room, laptop in hand. he lies back down and rolls over onto his stomach, pressing his face into a pillow and screaming in excitement.

he can already tell that this is going to be a great day.

#i didnt follow the request exactly #mainly because well know what happenes next #and if u dont #go read the prologue lmao #anyway #i finally finished it #hope it lives up to the first part🤪#mm: grayson #mirror mine

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redheadspark · 11 months

Note

Azriel with prompt #2 please!!

A/N - YAY for Azriel! I love this request, thank you!

Warm

Summary - Who knew a piece of clothing can bring two people together.

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

You didn’t mean to shiver when you were talking over to the Townhouse, but the chill of the Velaris evening was making your teeth chatter and your skin crawl. You thought it would be nice into the night since the day was nice and warm. The sun bringing everyone out of their homes, using the heart for all it worth and then some, simply because it was too good of a day to pass up.

You even got involved, doing a lot of your writing under the massive oak tree outside your house and getting a few chapters done. Your book was your baby, something you wanted to work on for years and year and say you did it on your own. Writing was therapy for you, a good sense of therapy to get all that was on your mind out of your brain and onto the page. After taking a few writing classes, you figured you would make a book for just yourself to rad in the future.

So as the sun was setting, you finished up your work and got ready to head over to the Townhouse were the Inner Circle was going to meet for their monthly dinner. It was tradition, something High Lord Rhsyand, your cousin and older brother figure, wanted to have that as a tradition for you and the Inner Circle after the Battle against Hybern. You all almost lost each other in that fight, not just your lives but the lives of those in Velaris and beyond. So to have dinner together at least once a month seemed like Rhsyand’s way to heal and move one.

But you had the bonehead move to not bring your sweater with you, figuring that the summer heat would stay into the evening. Yet as the sun was now set, the sky was now tainted in blue and purples with the first hint of stars how evident in the sky. The Townhouse was not a long walk, your apartment was merely a few minutes away near the bay since you convinced Rhsyand that you wanted to have your own space. He didn’t like that thought of his cousin not being under the same roof as him, let alone a space that he owned. But then again, he knew you wanted your space.

Finally making it to the Townhouse, you were shivering all over again and inwardly hating how cold it was since it was summer. You could hear the other side inside, chatting and laughing away as you were about to place your hand on the door. But of course the door opened before you could do it yourself, More standing there with a bit grin on her face and wearing one of her red summer dresses. But her smile was wiped off instantly as she saw you clutching your arms together and huddling inwards for warmth.

“You didn’t bring a jacket?” She asked you, you shaking your head and she tutted and took your hand in hers, getting you inside and closing the door behind you two. The warmth of the Townhouse made you sigh in relief as More steered you over to the parlor where the rest of the group was. You saw who was in there, nursing their glasses of wine and laughing at something Cassian said. Once you were in the room with More, the all looked to see the state you were in, a bit concerned as Feyre spoke first.

“You alright? You looked freezing!” She hummed as you nodded and tried to not make it so obvious. The being behind her, standing tall and broad shoulder compared to Feyre and her petite form, looked very concerned at you with his hazel eyes as you were trying to avoid his commanding and yet gentle gaze.

The Spymaster Azriel.

As Rhysand’s cousin, you knew of Azriel for some time. Of course, Azriel was raised by your Aunt, Rhysand’s mother, so you every got to really met him in the younger years. Only when Rhsyand took you under his wing when he was in charge of High Court and of Velaris when you were introduced to both Cassian and Azriel. They knew you were Rhsyand’s blood family, treating you with respect and kindness since going against Rhysand and his family would be suicide. Where Cassian acted more like the pestering younger brother with you and try to bing you out of your shell, Azriel was more courteous and respectful to you.

Letting your crush for him deep over the years.

“I didn’t think it was going to be this cold when I walked from my place,” You reasoned with Feyre. Yet you were shocked to see that Azriel took off his own sweater he was wearing, a midnight blue sweater that seems to fit him perfectly with two large slits in the back for his wings to go into with ease. He walked over to hand you, his scarred hands that you knew were filed with pain from his past were so gentle as he passed his sweater over to you.

For a second, no one said a word.

You were watching him with wide eyes, seeing how he was looked rather calm as he did this small but grand gesture for you. Azriel was always kind to you, a great gentleman and confidant with all that you had on your heart. He loved hearing you talk to him about the current politics in Velaris, the writing you were working on in your journal, and even your views on the other Courts. He would always listen, giving you his undivided attention and giving his now set of advice when you needed it. But most of the time you enjoyed each other’s company, whether it was in silence or with the others. Maybe he had a calming sense when he was near that made you less stressed, or you brought peace when he fell like his mind as chaotic and uneasy.

“Here, to get you warm,” He murmured, his voice rather gravely as you clutched his soft sweater in your fingers.

“Thank you,” You replied, seeing him softly smile before Cassian cleared his voice to break the tension in the room.

“Let’s tell Rhys we’re all here so we can eat. Ready, babe?” He asked his mate Nesta, whom nodded her head but was still smirking at you and Azriel with how you two were still staring at one another. The other cleared out, leaving you and Azriel alone in the parlor with only the sound of the crackling fire in the fireplace as heard. Once you two were finally alone with the rest of the group moving to the dining room, you slipped the sweater on over your head and your arms through the sleeve. The sweater itself was massive since Azriel was bigger compared to you, the shoulders sagging a bit and the sleeve almost went past your fingertips. Azriel reached down to help roll them up, you smiling as he did this.

“It’s huge, but it’s my favorite sweater,” He explained, you grinning as he went one, “It has kept me warm during the winter when I was at the training camp or on a mission. Actually…. It’s a gift from you,”

“It is?” You asked with a hint of shock and not realizing as you looking down at the material. But then you remembered, some time ago before things went to shit and you were all together ilke a dysfunctional family.

You were celebrating Winter Solstics together, getting each other gifts to lift the spirits. This sweater was from you, you wrapped it in a box for him. You remerged very clearly his face as he opened the top and saw the sweater folded neatly in the tissue paper. Being so nervous to give it to him, you were thinking that he was going to hate it. But before he could say anything, you said something to him.

“To keep you warm, since I know it’s cold up there at the camp,” You explained, seeing him then give you a massive grin and a small nod of the head.

“Thank you,” he thanked, sounded sweet about it.

“It became the favorite since it did keep me warm,” Azriel explained as you touched the fabric on your fingers, “And….it reminded me of you and your kindness, so I never had the heart to get rid of it,”

Something inside of you was making you feel warm all over, from the top of your head to down to your toes. Azriel always seemed a bit out of reach, almost like there was an unstop rule that you two could never be too close to one another. Maybe because of it was Rhysnad himself, or that you two grew up together, but Azriel seemed to be someone that you could never be truly close to.

Until now.

“Come on you two, before the food gets cold!” Cassian called from the dining room. You moved first, walking away with a blush on your cheek and the shivers were no longer because of the cold.

Yet Azriel stayed for a moment, watching you in his sweater and a massive grin still there on his lips.

The End.

June Summer Prompts

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x female reader #azriel x y/n #azriel #azriel x you #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fluff #azriel acotar #acotar fandom #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses

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volklana · 1 year

Text

I’ve Got a Burning Desire For You, Baby.

Title comes from this song:

Masterlist can be found here: Masterlist

Summary: Based off the back of my latest Bucky Fic, I decided to combine these two requests:

Okay the way you wrote Zemo actually did things to me. Do you think you would ever write a Zemo x reader. Him calling her little one....

Just saw your requests are open yay! So how about reader and Zemo have a one night stand in his apartment during tfatw? Literally no one does angst like you so could you do it where he feels bad because you're the first after his wife and reader feels bad because she feels like she's betraying Bucky

Warnings: Zemo x Reader. Hints of Bucky x reader too. As close to saucy as I can go (I tried)

Zemo’s apartment was beautiful, it reminded you a lot of the summer you had lived in Prague many years ago although admittedly your apartment had been nothing this grand.

“You’re benched tonight kid,” Sam instructed as you leaned against the counter clutching your ribs, you were about to protest when Bucky shot you a glare, “Don’t. You’re injured.”

“It’s simple, we’re just going out to collect some intel. No fighting, no trouble.”

“I don’t believe that for a second Sam,” you scoffed, he tried to hide his smile but didn’t quite manage.

“So I’m on babysitting duty,” you motioned to Zemo who was seated on his couch sipping on whiskey.

“Come on y/n, even injured, you could take him in your sleep,” Bucky offered.

Zemo conceded this was accurate with a subtle nod of his head, and so you relented, albeit very reluctantly.

“Would you like one?” he offered motioning to the whiskey decanter, pulling your attention from your book.

You nodded and thanked him when he passed you a glass, enjoying the pinch as the amber liquid slid down your throat. You examined him carefully as he sat opposite you and stretched his legs out, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. A comfortable silence settled between you before he shifted, eyes meeting yours.

“I can feel you staring little one, your gaze is very direct.”

You smiled bashfully, diverting your gaze, “I’m just trying to work you out,” you offered honestly.

He had risked his own life to save you earlier, he didn’t even hesitate a second. Picking you up when you were too wounded to run any further, shielding you from the hail of bullets, that were raining down.

“That’s funny,” he countered shifting to examine you properly, “Because I have been trying to do the same.”

“There is nothing to figure out,” you shrugged.

“On the contrary, there is a lot I can’t make sense of.”

“Such as?”

“You look at Sergeant Barnes like you would take a bullet for him. Like you would follow him into the burning flames of hell if he asked you to.”

“Well, I would,” you replied without missing a beat, “Sam too.”

“Ah,” he tutted “But it is different with James. I sense there are some feelings there, and yet you do not act upon them.”

“Well we can’t all act on our impulses,” you scolded, you didn’t want him to know how deep his words had cut.

“Ah but you see everything I did, just as you do for Bucky, I did for love.”

You didn’t know how to respond, instead opting to take another sip of whisky.

That seemed to satiate him for a moment relaxing back into the couch again and sipping on his own whisky. You examined his face again, he was attractive in a way you couldn’t quite explain to yourself. You had been determined to hate this man, for what he had done to Bucky and the rift it had caused between the only family you had known, but ever since Bucky had broken him out of prison there was this underlying, unspoken chemistry between you. Lingering glances and tenderness on his part that you simply had not expected.

“Have you considered what might happen if you did act on your feelings with Sergeant Barnes? Or acted on any of your impulses for that matter?” Zemo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“I fuck everything up?” you offered with a laugh, and he laughed along too.

“As someone who has, as you very eloquently put it, fucked everything up. It’s not always so bad.”

You finished your whisky in one mouthful, rising you made your way to the island and poured yourself another whisky, before you knew it Zemo was behind you, reaching for the decanter he placed a hand on your lower waist.

He smelled of amberwood and vanilla, the scent filling your senses the second he stepped out of the bathroom earlier after bathing.

“Tell me I’m reading you wrong little one,” he whispered in your ear, hot breath on your neck.

“I want to,” you gasped, as he placed a kiss to the spot your neck met your shoulder.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, but when you made no reply he turned you in his arms, one hand sliding up the small of your back the other tangling in your hair to pull your head back, he placed a kiss either side of your jaw, finally closing the distance and meeting your lips.

You melted into the kiss, melted into his touch completely. It had been a long time since anyone had held you this way, and you fisted your hands into the material of his robe.

You gasped as he lifted you onto the island, wincing at the pain in your ribs, but pushing it aside.

He slid his hands under your shirt, not breaking the kiss and went to slide it off, “Wait, wait,” you panted, hopping down from the island, running your hands through your hair “What are we doing?” you were panicking, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, Bucky had crossed your mind for a split second and it was enough to send you spiraling.

“I’m sorry,” he offered taking a step back, “It’s okay little one, take a breath. It’s okay.”

You began pacing, willing yourself to calm down, “I’m sorry,” you told him honestly.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he said softly.

“It feels wrong. It feels so wrong,” you exclaimed “So why do I want you so much?”

Zemo made strides towards you.

“This isn’t easy for me either. I’ve never touched another woman but my wife since…” he trailed off for the first time speechless, you could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, “But from the moment I saw you, I wanted you, I realised I’ve been..lonely.”

Your face softened and you reached out for him, he was blinking rapidly, it was like he was trying to process something difficult but as usual his face gave nothing away.

Then the door opened and Sam and Bucky bundled in, arguing amongst themselves and you and Zemo broke away from each other, pulling your hand back like you had been burned.

They grabbed two glasses, helping themselves to some whisky, only then did Bucky notice the expression on your face.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asked, coming to place a hand on your shoulder, “Has he upset you?” he fumed throwing a glare in Zemo’s direction.

“No, Bucky no,” you rushed shrugging him off, “I’m tired,” you argued, but you didn’t even sound convincing to yourself.

Bucky didn’t take his eyes off Zemo, locked in a glare with him, so you continued, “Now that you guys are back I’m going to get some sleep.”

You didn’t spare a glance at any of the men in the kitchen before charging up to the spare room.

You tossed and turned for hours, kicking the blankets off and pulling them back on again. Running your fingers through your hair and sighing -you could not stop sighing.

Bucky and Sam had stayed up talking for another hour after you had went to bed, you didn’t hear Zemo’s voice so you assumed he left shortly after you.

You couldn’t stop replaying the way he had kissed you, you replayed it over and over again in your mind as you tossed, the way his hands felt roaming your body and then that confession that he had been lonely.

You were too, achingly so and you had been for longer than you cared to admit.

Giving up all hopes of sleep you tossed the cover off with finality and tiptoed across the floor, creeping down the corridor until you found the door you were looking for.

You didn’t knock, you gently let yourself in, his bedside lamp was on and for a moment you couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not. You felt vulnerable, hugging yourself.

“Helmut?” you whispered somewhere between a plea and a whisper.

He crossed the room in an instant, taking you into his arms and kissing you. This time neither of you made any attempt to stop the other. He made quick work of removing your top and you slipped his robe open, gliding your hands along his chest. Your hand sliding up to meet his jaw, you traced your thumb over his cheek and the way he looked into your eyes made you want to crumble

“Say it again,” he whispered intensely, “Say my name again.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and whispered his name.

He backed you towards the bed, making quick work of the rest of your clothes, and you gasped as he lowered himself into you.

Zemo was sleeping soundly beside you, he looked peaceful, his long eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks. You allowed yourself the luxury of running your thumb across his lips, and he smiled in his sleep.

You couldn’t explain the emotions bubbling in your stomach.

Part of you was disgusted with yourself, Bucky was sleeping metres down the corridor and you had just slept with the man who had made his life hell. Would he ever forgive you? Would you ever forgive yourself?

“Come here,” Zemo mumbled, voice laced in sleep and fondness, you scooted down, allowing him to pull you to him.

In the morning you crept back up the corridor to your empty bed.

“And I never meant for it to happen Bucky, but it did. And I can’t take it back,” you were trying not to cry but the tears were welling in your eyes “And I don’t want to lie and tell you that it meant nothing, but I was so fucking lonely and it was nice just to feel-”

“-Wanted,” Bucky finished for you.

You couldn’t speak, choked by emotion you simply nodded.

His face was conflicted, but he reached a hand for you anyway.

“Y/n, how am I in any position to judge you? All the things I’ve done.”

“But?” you were scared to ask

“But I wish it hadn’t been..him.”

You felt shame wash through you until he continued, “I wish it had been me.”

Tagging: @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff @hellomissmabel @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus princess76179

#zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #zemo smut #zemo imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #MCU fanfiction #mcu imagines #volklana writes

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atths--twice · 1 year

Text

Chapter Seventeen

Alone, and not wanting to be, Fox decides to leave town.

Saturday afternoon

Fox sighed as he sat down on his couch. He had just returned from dropping off the gifts for everyone at the diner, all of them thankful and appreciative for the items he had chosen.

Manny and Joe had been especially grateful, thanking him for coming in every day and helping out when he had and always being kind to everyone. Lucy had hugged him, kissing his cheek and wishing him merry Christmas. The others had smiled and thanked him as he left and he had been glad to know he had brought them some happiness.

Looking around his apartment, at all the happy decorations within it, he suddenly felt incredibly lonely and sad.

He had gifts under his tree, from Samantha and the one from Dana, but the thought of opening them on his own on Christmas seemed awfully depressing.

Last year, he had been with Samantha and her family, but this year they were going away with Greg’s parents to their cabin in the mountains, something they did every other year. Samantha had asked if he wanted to join them, but he had declined, believing Dana would be in town, at least a couple more days, and they would be seeing each other.

Pushing himself off the couch, he picked up his phone just as it beeped and vibrated with a message from Dana. He grinned as he opened it and saw a picture of a train station sign. Glancing at the time, he knew they must have just arrived.

Three dots appeared and he waited while a message was typed out.

From Ivy it read, followed by Christmas emojis, happy faces, hearts, and lots of animals.

He laughed and shook his head as he liked each of the messages.

Thank you, Ivy. Have fun with your family.

He sent back many of the same emojis to her, adding trains and snowflakes. When a heart appeared on his message, he smiled and knew that would be all he heard for the time being.

He sighed, exited his message app and called Samantha.

“Well, hello there, brother,” she said and he smiled.

“Hello.”

“What’s up?”

“Is it too late for me to accept your invitation to join you for Christmas?” he asked, looking at his little pile of gifts.

“Oh! Of course not! Oh yay! The boys will be so excited to see you!”

“Nina and Dave won’t mind?” he asked, thinking of Greg’s parents.

“No! You know they love you. They always ask if you’ll be joining us.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, I’m so happy you’ll be here,” she said. “Do you want to fly here and drive with us or… no, that won’t work as we will need space to bring their… gifts, if you catch my meaning.”

“I do,” he said with a chuckle. “I can fly closer to Nina and Dave’s place and rent a car, or come to yours and still rent a car. I could carry the… gifts, if you wanted, so they don’t accidentally see them.”

“Oh, that could work. We’ve gone crazy this year and decided to get them dual wheeled modes of transportation,” she said and he laughed again, knowing for certain the boys must be somewhere close by and saying bikes would be catastrophic.

“Well, that sounds great. As long as you don’t forget the tools like dad did that year.”

“Oh my god,” she said with a laugh. “Mom was so mad.”

“Poor guy had to trudge through the snow to the neighbors and beg to borrow them.”

They both laughed, remembering how their mom had tutted under her breath as their dad had worked to put the toys together, a wooden kitchen set for Samantha and a bike for him, that Santa had “forgotten” to ask the elves to build.

“Good thing we didn’t ask too many questions,” he said and she laughed again which ended in a deep sigh that he heard as well as felt.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat. “What do you think you’ll do?”

He decided to fly to Samantha’s and rent a car. After hanging up with her, he booked a flight leaving early the next morning. He sent the itinerary to Samantha and then began to pack for the next week, planning to return the same day as Dana and Ivy.

He set his suitcase and bag of gifts by the door when it was ready and then cleaned out the refrigerator. He took out the trash and washed the dishes, tidying up anything that was out of place so the apartment would be clean when he came home.

Sitting on the balcony later, warm from his activities, his phone beeped and he picked it up, finding another message from Dana.

It was a video, Ivy’s smiling face frozen on the screen. He pressed play and many voices began to sing happy birthday while Ivy beamed. A cake with a number six candle burning was set down in front of her by an older woman with short brown hair and a kind smile.

Ivy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the homemade double layer chocolate cake with brightly colored sprinkles which looked absolutely delicious. She grinned and laughed as the song ended and everyone clapped.

“Make a wish baby girl,” a man’s voice said and Ivy closed her eyes.

Once again, like she had on her actual birthday, her lips moved but no sound came out, her wish as long as it was then.

“Umm, what is she wishing for?” a woman asked quietly and he recognized Melissa’s voice.

Dana laughed softly and he smiled at the sound, even as it made him miss her.

“She did it the other day too,” Dana said. “I wonder if it’s the same one.”

“Whatever it is, I sure hope she gets it,” Melissa said. “Girl has put some serious thought into it.”

They both laughed quietly and then Ivy blew the candle out, everyone cheering again.

“That was a long wish, Ivy,” the same man’s voice said and the camera panned over to a jovial looking bald older man. “What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell, Grandpa. If I do, it won’t come true,” Ivy said seriously as she took out the candle and licked the bottom of it.

“Fair enough,” he said, laughing goodnaturedly. “Grandma? Let’s get this girl some cake.”

The same brown haired woman came back into frame and picked up the cake, kissing Ivy on the top of her head.

The video stopped there and he sighed, watching it again as he looked at Dana’s family members that he did not know, but looked like nice people.

Another long wish… she must be really wanting something. 😊 Glad she has a chance to have her birthday before Christmas takes over. Please tell her I said hello and happy birthday again.

Pressing send, he also added a heart to the video she sent.

A heart appeared above his message, then three dots popped up, disappeared, and came back once again. He waited, thinking about their goodbye and the look on her face as the train pulled away. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and sighed.

A slight vibration made him look down and he smiled as he read her message.

As long as it’s not a pony or something impractical, I think we’re good. 😊

True, he wrote back. The cake looked good, I’m sure she loved it. Goodnight to you, my friend, Dana.

And to you, my friend 🦊

He laughed at the emoji adding a heart to the message, just as she did the same to his message.

He smiled as he drew in a deep breath and rose from the couch. Unplugging the Christmas lights, he went inside. Locking the sliding door and closing the curtains, he unplugged the tree and other lights.

Lying down in bed later, he set his alarm and fell asleep quickly, dreaming of train whistles and chocolate cake.

___________________

Christmas Eve

“Hey,” Samantha said, sitting beside him at what was affectionately known as the puzzle table. “You’re over here again?”

“I’m determined to get this finished,” he said, adding another piece to the jigsaw puzzle and searching for the next shape, as he shooed her hands away. “Unless you’ve come over here planning to help, don’t mess with my system.”

“I can’t believe you made a puzzle piece system,” she laughed, picking up a piece and looking for where it would fit.

“Ever since I learned that it’s been sitting here unfinished for two years,” he said, looking at her and shaking his head. “I have been determined to finish it. Two years, Sam.”

“I never should have told you,” she said, laughing again.

“Yes, you should have, because look…” He gestured to the puzzle that was nearly complete. “It was half this before. My system works.”

“Yeah, it does,” she admitted, fitting her piece in and smiling. “You’re so smart.”

“I know I am,” he said, giving her a look and shrugging with his palms up. She laughed and bumped his shoulder as they continued working on the puzzle.

“Glad you came?” she asked, glancing at him.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile, nodding as he added another piece. “It’s been really fun.”

And it had.

William and Adam had been overjoyed to see him, not being told he would be arriving, and jumped on him at the door when he rang the bell.

They had chatted nonstop it seemed from the moment he arrived until they left the next morning. He had been shown everything new and exciting they had gotten or made since the last time they had seen him, which had only been a few months ago.

He had followed them up to the cabin on his own, his car full of the wrapped and also covered gifts, and Samantha and Greg’s had the luggage and the boys. Nina and Dave had already been there when they arrived, welcoming them all in with hugs and kisses.

Fox had the guest room/office, which was at the back end of the house. Samantha had fond memories of the room as she had brought the boys in there when they were babies, to nurse and sleep when she herself was exhausted, finding the pullout couch to be very comfortable.

They had gone skiing, ice skating, had snowball fights, built many snowmen, and gone sledding. It had snowed twice since they arrived, adding to the already large amount on the ground.

Nights had been spent by the fire watching Christmas movies, playing games, building gingerbread houses, and baking many sweet treats.

Now it was Christmas Eve. The stockings were hanging on the mantel and cookies and milk had been left for Santa, along with four carrots cut in half, so each reindeer got an equal amount.

“Because that’s fair,” William had said, giving four carrots to Adam who nodded solemnly beside him.

“Oh, we know that’s important,” Greg had added, giving Fox a look as he held the plate for them to place the carrots on them.

The boys were asleep, but every precaution was being taken in case one of them stumbled out of bed, excited to see if Santa had come yet. Greg and Dave were quietly putting the bikes together in the closed off main bedroom, getting them ready for the morning.

Nina and Samantha had placed all the wrapped gifts under and around the tree, adding new ornaments for the boys to find while Fox had opened a bottle of wine and poured everyone a glass.

Nina was preparing food for tomorrow’s breakfast and singing softly as she moved around the kitchen. Fox glanced up and looked at her with a smile.

“You couldn’t have asked for better in laws,” he told Samantha softly and she hummed in response.

“I know. I’m thankful for them every day. I think mom and dad would have really liked them,” she said, adding another piece to the puzzle.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, nodding his head. “They would take cruises together and dad would buy matching shirts for him and Dave, delivering it to him covertly once they were on board. They would come to dinner dressed the same, just to make mom laugh and then roll her eyes.”

“God,” Samantha laughed. “I could so see him doing something like that. Something super dumb or punny like, time to get ship faced, or something equally ridiculous. It would be hilarious to see those pictures.”

“It really would.”

They both laughed again, but then sighed as they thought of what would never be. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed. She nodded, squeezing back gently, no words necessary.

“Have you heard from Dana?” Samantha asked, letting go of his hand and reaching for another puzzle piece.

“No,” he said, his stomach dropping slightly. “Not since yesterday actually, and that was just a picture of Ivy standing in the yard as snow was falling.”

“Haven’t you both been texting pictures? I know you’ve been taking a lot.”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a sigh. “I know she’s with her family, as am I, and I love the pictures, it just feels… I don’t know. It feels like she… it feels almost distant or something. And I don’t mean our geographical distance.” He attempted a smile, but Samantha did not smile back.

“What do you mean?” she asked, staring at him with concern.

“I’m not sure I can adequately explain it, to be honest,” he said, glancing at his phone which lay on the table beside him.

“Try,” she said quietly and he sighed with a nod.

“I miss her,” he whispered and Samantha exhaled through her nose, smiling kindly at him.

“Anyone could see that,” she said, touching his arm.

“But… I feel like I shouldn’t. Not the way I do. We’re friends and that’s-”

“Fox,” Samantha scoffed lovingly, rubbing his arm and shaking her head. “You’re not just friends.”

“But-”

“No, no buts. You’re not. You might not be dating or in a relationship, but you’re not just friends.”

“No,” he whispered, looking down at his lap.

“And you have every right to miss her. She’s someone you see every day. Someone you look forward to seeing every day.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a nod, glancing at his phone again. “I don’t expect her to be in constant contact with me when she’s gone. I wouldn’t want it as it would take her from her family, but the messages she’s been sending feel different than her usual ones. Like… I don’t know. I can’t…”

“You can’t find the words, my writer brother?” she asked, smiling softly. “The one who wrote such a beautiful story of the anticipation and arrival of the boys that I wept? That I still cry when I read it to them when they ask to hear it?”

“You were hormonal,” he said. “That doesn’t count.”

“Shut up,” she said, pushing at him as she laughed and he smiled. She sighed and he held her gaze for a second and then looked down with a sigh of his own.

“It just feels different,” he said softly and shook his head. “I don’t know what it is but-”

His phone started to ring, vibrating against the table. They both looked at it and his stomach dropped.

“Speak of the devil,” Samantha said, seeing Dana’s name on the screen as he picked it up and stared at it, but did not answer, suddenly feeling very nervous. “I’m gonna go see if Nina needs any help.” She stood up quickly and ran her hand across his shoulders as she started to walk away.

Licking his lips, he swallowed and accepted the call.

“Hello?” he asked, but did not get a response. “Hello? Dana?”

A sniffle and then a small sob had him standing to his feet, the chair nearly falling over.

“Dana? Dana, are you okay?” he said, his heart racing and breathing increasing.

“I- I…” Another sob and loud sniffling.

“Dana?” he asked, looking at Samantha where she had frozen in place between him and the kitchen. He shook his head and she walked toward him, her hand reaching out to grasp his, as history felt like it was repeating.

“Dana, are you okay? Is it Ivy? Is she… God, is she okay? Your parents?”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Samantha stared at him, her eyes wide and hand gripping his tightly.

“Dana…”

“We’re okay. Everyone’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t think... Fox, I’m sorry.” She cried harder and he let out a breath of relief and sagged slightly, Samantha’s other hand pressing to his chest and steadying him.

“She’s okay,” he whispered and Samantha murmured something he did not catch. “She’s okay. She’s okay.”

He took a deep breath and let it out, licking his lips again. Squeezing Samantha’s hand, he nodded at her and then turned around to walk downstairs to his bedroom.

He listened to Dana crying and apologizing as he walked quickly and quietly past the boys door, though he knew they would not hear him with their noise machine playing loudly.

Closing his bedroom door, he began to pace in the space at the foot of the pullout couch.

“I’m so sorry. I should have thought,” she said and then blew her nose quietly.

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay,” he said consolingly, wanting to know what had caused her this pain. “What happened?”

She sniffled again and let out a breath.

“I… I opened your suitcase.” She cried again with a whimper and he paused in his walking, feeling confused.

“I don’t-”

“You bought gifts for my family,” she whispered and he sat down heavily onto the bed, his heart sinking as he feared she was about to tell him off for overstepping their friendship.

“You don’t have to-”

“I told you my brother might not make it for Christmas…” she said, sniffling and crying softly. “We didn’t think he’d be here, but you got him a gift anyway. You got them all gifts. Fox…” She sniffled again as she whimpered his name. “Why? Why would you…” She cried harder and he felt like his heart was breaking.

“I just-”

“You don’t even know them,” she continued, her voice full of tears. “You’ve never seen anyone but Missy. Why would you… why would you do something like that for strangers?”

“Because…” He let out a breath and rubbed a hand across his chin.

“I’ve never…” She stopped and took a few breaths and he waited, deciding to stop talking and just listen.

She blew her nose again, sniffled and drew in a deep breath.

“Jordan and I dated for two years. He came to two family birthdays with me. Two,” she said, sniffling, her voice quavering. “After that, I made excuses for him not being there.” She breathed hard and choked back tears. “He never… never made any attempt to come, but accepted the thanks for the gift I bought when it was mentioned. He never, not once, thought to get any of them a gift. He… he said he didn’t know them, didn’t know what to get.”

She started crying again and he leaned forward with his head on his hand.

“He… he didn’t even try to get to know them. He… he had no desire. I hated that about him, but I always brushed it aside. I didn’t want…” She whimpered and then must have moved the phone away because she sounded far away as she cried.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to remain calm and let her speak without expressing his disdain for the man who had treated her that way. She blew her nose again and her breathing became closer.

“He made no effort with my family and they never liked him, which I completely understand. He was my boyfriend and he didn’t care.” She sniffled and let out a breath. “You… you’re my friend… and you… you did more for them… in two months of knowing me, than he ever did… in two years. I can’t…” She cried harder and he wished he was able to reach through the phone and hug her.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you… for their gifts.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back. “If it’s too forward… too much, please don’t-”

“It’s not,” she insisted, letting out a deep breath.

“It wasn’t my intention to make you cry like this,” he said softly. “I feel terrible that you are.”

“No,” she breathed. “Please don’t.”

He sighed and she blew her nose again.

“I opened your gift,” she whispered and his eyes flew open as his head lifted. “Fox… I can’t believe you did that. Ella’s books…” She started to cry again, but softer this time. “Every one of them… they’re so beautiful. I know what those cost. It was too much.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, even though he knew she could not see him.

“Aside from my parents, and possibly my sister, no one has ever spent that much money on me.”

“Well-”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you do.”

“I’m so sorry for the past few days,” she said and he heard tears in her voice again.

“Why? What do you mean?” he asked, frowning at the turn in the conversation.

“I’ve… Jesus…” She exhaled and then inhaled with a loud sniffle. “I was… I didn’t know… no, I did. I just didn’t want to admit it or name it.”

“I’m sorry. Dana, I don’t know what you’re saying,” he said, feeling very confused.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out a sob and he waited while she took a few deep breaths. “I’ve been feeling… angry. Well, not angry… but… God. I’ve been short with everyone, including you.”

“We’ve not spoken much, how could you-”

“Exactly. Exactly that,” she whispered and he closed his eyes as he rubbed his forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’m not understanding,” he said softly and she let out a stuttering breath.

“I’ve not been in contact and when I have, it’s only been pictures. Not messages.”

“You’re busy. I wouldn’t expect, nor want, your time with your family to be taken up by me. I see you every day. They don’t.”

“God,” she said, taking in sobbing breaths. “You…”

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna let you talk,” he said, opening his eyes and letting out a sigh. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

She cried quietly for a couple of minutes and he waited, again wishing that he could reach through the phone and touch her, help take away her pain.

She blew her nose a few times and then took a few deep breaths.

“Charlie, my younger brother,” she began, her voice shaky. “I said he probably wasn’t going to make it. None of us anticipated it. He… he lives in Germany with his girlfriend. They both have… good jobs there and flying home is a lot of time and effort for just a few days.” She sniffled and drew in a deep breath. “They surprised us this morning, showing up as we sat down to eat brunch. We were all so happy to see them and then… oh…”

She started to cry again and he heard her exhale almost angrily.

“After we’d said our hellos, he showed us one of the reasons for the visit- a diamond on his girlfriend's left hand and…” She fell silent and he could picture her biting her lip as she was wont to do. “Everyone was screaming, laughing, and hugging them. The kids were… they all wanted to see the ring and hear the story of him asking her and… I… I just stood there, my stomach feeling sick.”

He took a breath, wondering if maybe she did not like the soon to be sister in law, or if there was another reason she would be feeling trepidatious.

“Beatrice is a lovely woman. I’ve always liked her, always got on with her, but in that moment, I…” She exhaled and he waited. “I smiled and listened to the story, congratulating them, but I felt so disconnected from it all. From them and my family in general. I excused myself, but no one paid much attention, except my sister who met me at the door and handed me my coat. She didn’t say anything, just opened the door and watched me leave.”

He frowned, wondering why she was feeling angry and distant from her family. Feeling upset enough to leave the house.

“I walked a lot. Around the neighborhood and through to another one. I forgot gloves and a hat. I was cold, but I knew I needed to be out and away from them all for a while. I just…” She sighed deeply and then sniffled. “When I came back, I could hear them in the living room and I hurried upstairs to take a bath, needing to unthaw and still take some time away.”

“When I came down, I joined in the conversations, smiling and happy, but I didn’t feel it. I put on a happy facade, but I felt like I would burst into tears every second. My head hurt from not crying and all the jovial activities going on around me. We had dinner and got ready for Santa, leaving out cookies and red bell peppers for the reindeer.”

“Red bell peppers?” he could not help but ask, forgetting he had said he would stay quiet.

“They like variety, you know,” she said, tears in her voice again. “Everyone else does carrots, it’s nice to…” She sniffled and he hummed, letting her know he would be quiet again.

“Ivy has been sleeping on the trundle bed in her cousin’s room and I’ve had the guest room to myself,” she said with another sniffle. “I read to her, put her to bed, and then came in here to have a minute. Your suitcase has been in here all this time and I decided to open it, thinking it was just gifts for me and Ivy. I was going to add them to the ones under the tree and then… then I saw the ones to my family and…”

She cried again, whimpering and sniffling, blowing her nose before starting all over again. He put his head on his hand, closing his eyes and exhaling a steadying breath.

“I,” she said, sniffling loudly. “I burst into tears when I saw them, the fucking dam finally breaking.” She laughed bitterly and blew her nose again. “Four days. Four days I’ve been here and I’ve… I’ve felt off. Felt my temper was short at times. I know my sister’s noticed, but she hasn’t said anything. I didn’t know why until I saw your gifts.”

“Why would they-” he started to ask and then stopped. She sighed and then sniffled, taking a few seconds.

“When Ivy was almost four,” she said quietly. “She wasn’t feeling well. I kept asking her what was hurting… but she couldn’t pinpoint it. Finally, she touched her eyebrows and… she said “my eyes feel sad, Mommy” and I knew then she meant she had a headache.”

He smiled at how well Ivy expressed her discomfort, thinking it sounded like a rather perfect way to describe a headache.

“I gave her some medicine and then we sat on the couch as I rubbed her head. She ended up falling asleep for over an hour and when she woke up, she smiled at me and said that her eyes were happy now. That’s how we gauge problems and levels of pain: do you feel sad or happy?” She gave a short laugh and then sobbed out a breath. “As I held your gifts on my lap and cried, I realized what was wrong with me. Why I had been feeling unlike myself the past few days and especially why Charlie and Beatrice’s news affected me the way it did.” She drew in a shaky breath and paused, his heart aching as she sniffled and she took another breath.

“I’ve not been myself,” she whispered. “Because my heart has been sad, Fox. It’s been sad, because I miss you.”

He drew in a deep breath as he sat up straight, opening his eyes and staring at the wall across from him.

“I miss you. So much,” she said, crying and sniffling. “I didn’t know that’s what it was until I saw your gifts and then your handwriting on the tags of the gifts. It hit me… hard. Your card… my friend, Fox…” She drew in a ragged breath and his heart hammered in his chest.

“I’ve never had a friend like you before. Someone I look forward to seeing every day. Who makes me laugh. Who helps me. Who thinks of me. Who genuinely likes my daughter.” She started crying again and he let out a deep sigh. “Someone who has been through so much in their own life and wants to make others happy any way they can. Fox…”

“Dana,” he whispered and she exhaled softly.

“Could we… would you consider not being friends anymore?”

“What?” he asked, standing to his feet quickly and breathing hard.

“I… I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Dana… what are you-”

“I love you,” she said and he nearly dropped the phone. Sitting back down on the bed, he took ragged breaths.

“You…” he said and she sniffled, tremors still prevalent in her breathing.

“I love you,” she said again, softer than the first time. “I… I have for a long time, but I… I fought against it. I was stupid, but I was worried and I had to be sure, as it’s not just me it will affect. But I didn’t need to worry as Ivy thinks the absolute world of you. She’s talked about you so much since we’ve been here. She showed everyone the journal you gave her for her birthday, asking for help with her stories, and telling them how much you will like seeing her drawings when we come home.”

He smiled, thinking of Ivy excitedly filling the pages of her journal.

“You offered to watch her at the diner for me, Fox, so I knew she was safe.” She sniffled and let out a sigh. “You asked her for her permission before you picked her up when we came to your apartment for dinner. You bought her unicorn ice cream. You’re silly with her, which she absolutely loves as she’s told me many times. You give her attention, letting her have the space she needs to work through her worries and feelings. Fox, how could I not love you when you care for my daughter the way you do, without it being asked or expected?”

“Dana…” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes as ran a hand across his mouth.

“I tried to fight it, believing it was too fast to fall so deeply. But I’ve learned an important lesson the last few days as my heart has been sad and I’ve been feeling broken and incomplete.”

“Dana,” he whispered again, shaking his head.

“Is it too fast, Fox?” she whispered, suddenly sounding small and unsure.

“No,” he whispered back. “It’s not. And if it is, then we can be fast together.”

“What? What do you-”

“I love you too,” he whispered and he heard her gasp.

“You do?”

“How could I not?” he asked with a smile. “How could I not love someone who laughs at my jokes and enjoys the same books I do? Who brought Christmas to my apartment when she saw it was in need of it? Who likes the cheese on her lasagna exactly like I do? Someone who loves her daughter and wants the very best for her?” He stopped as he listened to her crying softly and he let out a breath. “Someone I have loved for far longer than she might even believe and who I have missed excruciatingly since the day the train pulled away and I was left behind?”

“How long?” she breathed.

“Since Rita called in sick and Elvis was crooning away on the jukebox and I helped you refill the sugar containers.”

“That… that was over a month ago,” she said in disbelief and he chuckled softly.

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s not fast,” she whispered. “I just took a while to believe it could happen so quickly and easily.”

“Didn’t you say something recently about getting along well with stubborn things?” he asked, lying back on the bed as he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders.

“Yeah,” she said with a laugh, a small tremor still present in her breathing. “I think I did.”

They both laughed and he sighed happily.

“I think we should compromise,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked and he could hear lightness returning to her voice.

“You said you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Oh!” she said. “That’s not… not what I meant. I was-”

“I know what you meant,” he assured her as he smiled. “Well, I do now, because at first, I was really worried.” She laughed and he smiled again. “So, I’m going to disregard your suggestion to not be friends anymore. Because the people I’ve known in my life, who have the happiest relationships, have always been friends first. It’s the root that matters most. The one off which all others will grow and flourish.”

“I believe that too,” she whispered and he smiled again.

“I’m happy to hear it,” he said and she sighed. “But, my friend, Dana… just so we’re completely certain of everything… the next time I see you, would it be alright if I kissed you?” he asked. She let out a tremulous breath and his heart pounded as he waited for her answer.

“Not…” she whispered and he could hear the happiness in her smile. “… not unless I kiss you first, my friend Fox.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking up at the ceiling with a huge smile. “I think I’m gonna like this new friendship arrangement of ours.”

“Me too,” she said, blowing her nose softly from the tears he knew she was crying, no longer from sadness, but because she was happy.

#the x files #xf fanfic #alternate universe #modern setting #msr #christmas #holidays #family #alone and not wanting it that way #texts and phone calls

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stars-of-kyber · 2 years

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“real smooth, tripping over air.”

Look.... This got completely out of control. I'm sorry lol

So I looked at this prompt and went look this is perfect for the Childhood best friends AU I have in my head so I sat down to it. It is so far 10K words long and I'm still finishing it.

I even made a lil moodboard yay

Doesn't it look cute?

Anyway to bussiness, I'll post the first part in chapter one and then I'll get a chapter two to finish it.

_________________________________________________________

By the time Anthony, about to turn seventeen years of age, departed from Aubrey Hall for his last year in Eton, he left behind his mother and father, all six of his siblings, the youngest one being little Gregory, who was just a toddler, his beloved stallion and his best friend Kate.

Anthony Bridgerton met Miss Kate Sharma when he was 8 years of age and she was 6. He had walked into his mother’s favourite drawing room, intending on finding her to complain about something Benedict had done, his annoying little brother trailing close behind him, ready to defend himself against any and all accusations, true or not.

He had not expected, of course, to find his mother accompanied in the parlour. Sitting on her favourite chaise, Violet Bridgerton was fanning herself, her pregnant stomach clear against the blue day dress she was wearing. Across from her sat Lady Danbury, who Anthony was rather familiar with and knew well enough to stay politely out of range of her walking stick, a young woman who was probably just a few years younger than his mother, and a young girl munching quietly on a biscuit, her arm tight around a china doll.

“Ah, my darlings.” His mother crooned, beckoning them closer with a wave. “These are my eldest two, Anthony and Benedict.” She patted Anthony’s cheek affectionally, her other hand on Ben’s back, but speaking to the women across from her. “Boys, you remember Lady Danbury.”

They bowed their heads to the older woman, mumbling their hellos and how do you dos at the same time.

“Lady Danbury is visiting the Sharmas, they’ve just moved right next to us.” Violet’s practised warm smile to the Sharmas had not stopped Anthony’s frown.

“To Crake?” His eyebrows were drawn together, and his mouth pushed into a confused line. Violet opened her mouth to reply but Benedict had already beaten her, his puzzlement joining his older brother’s.

“But Aunt Billie and Uncle George live in Crake!” Benedict turned to his mother, perplexed. “Where will they…?”

“Not Crake.” His mother interrupted before the conversation spiralled completely out of hand. “On the other side of the Lake. On Norwood House.” Twin ‘oh!’s’ escaped the boys’ lips. “This is Lady Mary Sharma and her daughter, Kate.”

The introductions were finished and the conversation continued around them as Anthony decided if it would be polite to complain about his brother in front of company when his mother let out an excited gasp.

“Why don’t you and Benedict show Kate around the lake and the edge of the woods, Ant?”

“Oh, it’s a lovely idea.” Lady Mary was already pushing Kate up. The young girl’s eyes were incredibly wide, her brown curls wild around her, her doll clutched to her chest.

“But she’s carrying a doll and all. She’ll slow us down!” Anthony’s whine reverberated in the room, his mother tutting at him. “And she’s a girl!” The way he said it, it did sound like an insult, and Kate most certainly took it as one. Before any of the Ladies in the room could scold Anthony for his rudeness, the young girl ruffled indignantly and stomped hard on his foot, quite on purpose.

That was the moment Anthony Bridgerton fell head-over-heels in love with Kate Sharma. Or that was Ben’s retelling of it. Anthony was not particularly in agreement and, personally, he wasn’t exactly sure how well Benedict’s six-year-old brain could be relied on.

But from that moment forwards, Anthony and Kate became inseparable, Ben tagging along after them, being the, sometimes unwilling, third party to all their silly schemes, and many times the mediator between Anthony and Kate’s endless bickering.

He had sat with her in the tree house a few days before Edwina was born, her hand wrapped tightly in his, her head laying on his shoulder.

“What if Mary does not love me anymore after the babe comes?” Her question was mostly a whisper while her eyes remained firmly shut and Anthony had been quite certain she was trying her hardest not to cry.

“Mary already loves you very much.” It was quite true, he knew. Mary was a devoted mother, always trailing after Kate with her heart in her eyes. “What reason would she have to stop?”

“Well, she’ll be the baby’s real Mama...” He scoffed at her words and she turned to her head to peer at him, her brow in a furrow.

“Mary is your real Mama.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, impatient about the fact that Kate could not see it. “She tugs you in bed every night with goodnight kisses, does she not?”

“Yes, but…”

“And she reads you stories and gives you kisses and cuddles when you get hurt, yes?”

“Yes.”

“She asks Cook to make your favourite dish whenever you’re feeling blue and sometimes lets you have more servings of dessert behind your Papa’s back.” He pointed out. “And doesn’t she let you climb into bed with her when it’s storming?”

“She does.”

“She does all the things Mamas do, so why wouldn’t she be your real Mama?” Anthony’s voice was filled with the type of certainty only children could have.

“Well, I suppose…” She mumbled, her voice a little bit less sorrowful.

“You’re actually quite very lucky, I’d say.” He continued conversationally. “You‘ll only have to share the attentions of your mama and papa with one sibling. Soon I shall have four.” His mama had sat him and Ben down a few months previous to announce they’d be having another baby brother or sister soon. To Anthony, the three that he already had were more than enough, but his parents did seem very happy about it. “And anyhow, being a big sibling is really quite fun.”

It really was, even if Benedict sometimes annoyed him endlessly, Colin tried to eat all his cookies and little Daphne had broken his favourite wooden figure Aunt Poppy had brought from her visit to Lisbon.

“Your siblings are really nice.” She nodded, yawning into her hand, her eyes drifting closed, her face much more relaxed than it was earlier.

“I’m most certain your sibling will be just as nice.” He agreed, leaning his head back against the wall of the tree house, allowing her even breathing to lull him.

“I hope I’ll be a great eldest sibling, just like you.”

“Of course, you’ll be. You’ll be brilliant at it.”

That afternoon, they fell asleep sitting in their tree house, her head on his shoulder and their fingers entwined and twin smiles on their lips.

Kate had also been his first kiss. It had been a dare from Benedict, who had not really believed she would actually pull through with it. But he had very badly underestimated eleven years old Kathani Sharma’s stubbornness and competitiveness. He watched open-mouthed as she crossed the space between them to Anthony, who had been skipping stones by the lake shore, with a purposeful stride, tugged him down (he had grown taller than her the previous summer and Kate absolutely hated it) by the lapel of his coat and pressed her lips very firmly to his for a five seconds before storming off to collect her prize from his shocked little brother, leaving Anthony staring at her completely dumbfounded, gaping at her back, both of their faces completely red.

Later, she shared the entire raspberry pie she won from the bet with Anthony. It was only fair.

When he left for Eton for the first time, she stood in the entryway of Aubrey Hall to see him off with the rest of his family and promised she would write all the time and he’d better write back. She hugged him for a very long time and then threatened his life if he ever were to find a new best friend in his time away. He had assured her that the position belonged firmly to her and she should not worry.

And as certain as the sun rose in the sky every morning, Kate’s letter came in weekly. She’d tell him about her days with Edwina and his siblings, about her lessons with her governess, about the books she read and her new hobby of watercolours. In return, he’d tell her about his lessons at school, about the good and bad teachers, about the terrifying headmaster and about the boys in his dormitory. Some of the lads had tried to tease him about it but gave up after they realized how very unbothered Anthony was. He’d have Kate’s letters, he didn’t care about much else.

And every time he returned home, there she was, waiting for him with a blinding smile on her lips.

The summer was theirs. They’d run wild in the countryside, getting up to all sorts of misfits. Benedict had taken up drawing and now he’d always have his sketchbook pulled up to his nose while they sat under trees or on their branches, the tips of his fingers black with charcoal.

There was some feeble attempt to stop them. Kate was quickly turning into a young woman and it was not quite proper to have her run alone with two young men unchaperoned. The concerns for Kate’s reputation were easily dropped and there seemed to be an implicit understanding between their parents that eventually Anthony would end up marrying her. His father had even once said something along the lines of ‘If Anthony won’t I’m sure Benedict will.’ which had Anthony sulking for the following three days.

He’d be lying if he said he did not care for the idea. He would have to marry eventually. He was the firstborn and it would be his duty to continue the Bridgerton bloodline. And Kate was his best friend in the world, the one person he knew his heart and soul, with whom he could trust his deepest fears and wildest thoughts. And his mother had always said the best marriages were the ones forged between very best friends, after all. And she wasn’t really bad to look at, with her wild curls and big doe-like eyes. In his mind, it was all pretty simple. He’d finish his studies in Oxford, return home, marry Kate and live quite happily afterwards. He wouldn’t have to suffer through seasons in London, flocked by silly debutants, he’d have his future viscountess and, if the past years were anything to go about, life with Kate would be really quite fun. But Anthony had dedicated very little time to think about it. He’d rather spend his free days at home with Kate and Benedict than dwell on thoughts about the future and he’d always have so much to do at school, it was quite easy to forget the topic entirely.

His mind was distracted by thoughts of home and his summer before he enrolled in university, Cook’s raspberry pie that always waited for them every time they returned from school, of the seventh baby sibling that would be joining the family by the end of the summer and if Mother would allow them to go swimming in the next few days while Benedict dozed, his head lulling to the side as the carriage made its way back to Kent. He watched absentmindedly as the green fields shone under the summer sun, the landscape growing more and more familiar until they were pulling into Aubrey Hall’s drive, a cluster of people waiting for them in front of the house. As the coach pulled up next to the marble steps, stirring Benedict of his nap, he began to recognise the people waiting for them.

There was his mother, her belly already pronounced under the waistline of her dress, and his father holding little Gregory, who was trying desperately to escape his father’s arms. Lady Mary stood next to his mother, as calm and serene as ever. And there was Daph and Colin side by side. His second brother had hit a growth spurt during the 6 months he’d been away, Kate had informed him in her letters, and had finally surpassed Daphne in height, much to his sister’s annoyance. Edwina stood between Eloise and Francesca, the three sporting girlish smiles and childish joy. And right behind them…

The coach had already stopped and Benedict was climbing out of it by the time Anthony’s eyes locked on Kate. Kate, who he hadn’t seen since the end of the previous summer as she had been visiting family in Somerset when he returned home for Christmas. Kate, who was beaming at him, her entire face lit up with her smile. Kate, whose wild dark curls were trapped in a loose braid over her shoulder, her midnight blue-green dress shining under the midday sun.

Kate, who looked like the most beautiful thing Anthony had ever seen in his entire life.

She was already next to the carriage, greeting Benedict when he moved to get out. Something had changed, and he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. It was still Kate, the big, brown eyes, the black curly hair, the long legs and slender arms. But there was something new about her. Something new about the way she held herself, shoulders firm and head held high proudly. Something in the air around her made her skin glow and her eyes shine. She was not the scrawny teen he left behind last summer, apparently growing into her long limbs, her dress waist hugging her body beautifully as she moved in fluid, graceful motions.

He couldn’t stop looking at her.

It turned out to be a problem, stepping down from the coach with his eyes glued to her. Worried shouts ran through the open air as his foot completely missed the step, his hand reaching for the carriage’s door in the last possible second, just a hair away from tumbling face-first into the grovel.

“Lost your footing there, did you?” Kate was standing in front of him, laughter in her voice. And by God, he’d give anything to get her to keep laughing like that. He took the hand she was offering to steady him, a thing he’d done a million times, and yet now, as their fingers touched, a jolt of electricity ran up his arm straight to his heart. “Are you alright?”

“Just… lost my balance.” He mumbled, the tip of his ears turning red under her gaze.

“Clumsy.” Her hands reached to fix the lapel of his travel coat, wrinkling her nose adorably before throwing her arms around his neck, crushing her to him. He could barely breathe as he wrapped his arms around her waist, enjoying the way her body fit perfectly into his. It always had. How had he never noticed it before?

He could spend the rest of the day like that, their arms around each other under the sun in front of the house, but they were interrupted by Gregory, who had finally managed to wiggle himself out of his father’s grasp, running straight to Anthony’s legs and he had been forced to let go of Kate to be able to scoop his little brother up. Behind Kate’s shoulder, he could see his father watching them, amusement glomming in his eyes while his mother smothered Benedict in kisses.

“Katie, Ant!” Greg babbled, waving his chubby arms wildly to show her that his brother had arrived. His mother had written that Greggy was very much taken with Kate, always toddling after her as she brought Edwina to visit his sisters at Aubrey Hall.

“Yes, Greggy. Anthony’s back.” She smiled up at the two brothers, patting Gregory’s hair softly. Anthony wished she’d run her fingers to his hair next.

“Love, allow Benedict some space to breathe.” Edmund had his hands softly on his wife’s shoulders as she pulled away, tears glistening in her eyes. “Perhaps save some of those kisses to Anthony, yes?”

“I don’t think it’s Mama’s kisses Anthony wants,” Benedict mumbled under his breath. Both Anthony and Kate’s faces turned completely scarlet as the Viscount elbowed his second son, Lady Bridgerton rushing forwards to greet her eldest, beloved boy.

“Did you notice something different about Kate?” Anthony had been trying to work up the nerve to ask his brother the question the entire way up to their bedrooms to change from their travel clothes, a bit afraid of the answer he would get.

“Apart from the fact that you spent more time staring at her today than usual, you mean?” Benedict shot Anthony a look from the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, Ben, apart from that.” He rolled his eyes, ignoring the teasing smirk on his brother’s lips. He was too dignified to even try denying his brother’s quip. He had spent a good amount of time staring at Kate.

“No, nothing in particular. Why?” Benedict shrugged.

“I don’t know. Something looks different in her.” Anthony tugged at his cravat nervously.

“Perhaps she changed her hair a bit?” Benedict offered, completely uselessly.

“That’s not it.” Anthony sighed, shaking his head dejectedly. He couldn’t say exactly what had changed about her and it was driving him mad. “It’s something about her…”

“I can’t help you, mate.” Benedict shrugged again, stopping at the door to his room. “She looks the same to me.”

Anthony couldn’t help but think that, for an artist, his brother was really quite unobservant.

Dinner was an informal affair. Apart from Gregory, who in his childish excitement managed to fall asleep before it was time for them to sit down, all the Bridgerton and Sharmas were in attendance. Anthony sat amidst the chaos of his family, his eyes still fixed on Kate who was sitting between him and Benedict. She looked breathtaking under the light of the candles, her curls escaping her braid, framing her face in a dark ring of hair.

“Anthony!” Her voice snapped him of his reverie and he noticed she had been talking to him. Behind her, Benedict was grinning humorously.

“What?” She huffed in annoyance at his question.

“I asked you if you are excited to go to Oxford!”

“Oh, Oxford, yes.” He nodded, his mind already flying away from him as he watched her take a bite of her raspberry pie, the sugary red filling tainting her full lips crimson. “At the end of the summer. Right.”

“What’s wrong with you today?” Her voice was laced with amusement. Next to her, Benedict wasn’t even trying to hide his cackling at the interaction.

“I just….” He shrugged, trying to focus on his own desert. It tasted like summer afternoons hiding in the tree house, giggling with dirty hands. “Long day. Travelling.”

“I found it perfectly pleasant,” Ben added, after a huge bite of pie. Kate rolled her eyes and Anthony huffed.

“That’s because carriages lull you to sleep.” She said, at the same moment Anthony grumbled annoyedly:

“You slept the entire way.” The three of them exchanged looks before they burst out in laughter. It felt as if life was back to normal. The three of them laughing together as it always had been.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to relax now that you’re back.” All the air seemed to escape Anthony’s lungs in one quick huff as her hand wrapped around his softly under the table. Anthony’s mouth was open, but his mind was devoid of anything to say back to her. No teasing quip, no thankful remark, not even a silly barb. The only thing on his head at the moment was her bright smile and their bare hands laced together under the tablecloth.

Anthony was saved from having to say anything when his father stood from his seat at the head of the table, raising his flute in a toast for the return of his boys and his eldest son’s graduation. Glasses were raised with cheers and joyous cries, laughter ringing as Edwina and Eloise tried to clink their glasses only to spill half their lemonade on each other.

Throughout the entire chaos of celebration, Kate’s fingers remained tightly entwined with Anthony’s.

“You know, Brother,” Anthony turns on his seat at the edge of his bed to find Benedict staring at him, his face alight with mirth. He was by Anthony’s bedroom door, completely carefree as he leaned on the jamb, only in his partially opened white undershirt and sleep pants. “You used to be better at keeping yourself together than that.”

Anthony considered for a minute if he should play dumb and tell his brother he had no clue what he is talking about, but he decided against it. There was no point. Benedict had already noticed his struggles and denying it would only be a waste of time and energy.

“I don’t understand what is wrong with me.” Anthony dropped back to the bed with a groan, tugging on his hair forcefully with his hands.

“There is a straightforward explanation to it, Ant,” Ben said, sitting next to him on Anthony’s bed. “You are a fool. You’ve always been, especially for Kate.”

“I’ve told you,” Anthony said from between the fingers covering his face. “There is something different about her.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe there is something different about you?” He lifted his head to stare at Benedict with a confused frown.

“What?” What could have changed within him in the past that Ben had realized and he hadn’t? Could his brother really understand his feelings better than he understood them himself?

“Perhaps you’re simply not so smooth anymore, you know, in your old age.” Why did he ever expect anything serious from his brother? Of course, some teasing barb would come out of it. He dropped his head back to the mattress dejectedly.

“You are ridiculous and I’m not certain why I still listen to you.”

“You could barely get a full sentence out all night.” Benedict’s mirth made him groan.

“I got distracted, that’s all.”

“I just hope that I do not end up like you in my old years.” He added with a dramatic flare of hands.

“I am two years your senior, you arse.” Anthony tossed one of his bed cushions, hitting him on the side of the face which sent both brothers rolling with laughter.

“I am still smooth, thank you very much,” Anthony grumbled as their laughs started to die down.

“I’m sure you are.”

“I am!”

“Well, Brother.” Benedict rose from his seat, tossing the cushion back to Anthony’s side. “I wish you all the luck on your endeavour of speaking a full sentence to Kate tomorrow, you know, with all your smoothness.” Anthony groaned, remembering the whispered promise of her returning tomorrow for their game before she jumped onto her family’s carriage after dinner. Benedict’s humorous laughter followed him out of the room.

The following day would clearly be a long one.

By the next morning, Anthony was very close to deciding on not even leaving his bed at all. He spent his entire night filled with dreams of Kate. Dreams that had him waking up with her name on his lips and his body taunt with desire. Dreams of her body against his, his lips on hers, of his hands under her dress, caressing her long legs, of her nimble fingers tugging on his hair forcefully.

It was not the first time Anthony had woken up to these sorts of dreams, the type that left his body aching and his sleep trousers uncomfortably tight. It was the first time Kate was featured in one of them though. It was always usually some faceless woman, the dream focused sorely on other parts of the body below the neck.

It was much easier to take himself in hand when the dream is about someone he didn’t really know. He felt guilty about doing anything with the image of Kate burned behind his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her plump lips, swollen from kissing, her long tanned legs that went on forever, of the way her body shivered as his hand and mouth explored every single crane and nook of her body.

He tried a million different ways to get his body to calm down, to push her away from his mind enough so he could turn back to sleep, but every time his eyelids fell closed she'd be there, smiling devilishly at him clad only in his sheets. By the fourth time he woke up panting, he’d given up. Shame burned deeply in his chest as he reached to unlace his trousers.

He was standing in the entrance hall next to his mother and Ben when Kate arrived, Edwina having already dashed after El and Frannie in the garden.

“Mama said she’d be over later today for tea, Lady Bridgerton.” She kissed the Viscountess’s cheek.

“That’s quite alright, my dear.” The moment Kate stepped closer to Benedict and him, Anthony’s nose was assaulted by an unfamiliar smell. It grew stronger by the second and at the moment her arms wrapped themselves around him, it hit him so fully it overpowered all other of his senses.

“You smell different.” The words jumped out of him before he could even think about them. His mother gasped, crying out ‘Anthony Bridgerton’ in outrage at his rudeness and Ben’s face was red and breathless as he tried to hold back his roar of cackles, but his eyes remained on Kate. She had taken a step away from him, looking completely taken aback, trying and failing not to look hurt, sending a painful pang through his heart. He hadn’t meant to offend her. “Flowery?”

“It’s probably the lily soap Mama’s cousin got me for Christmas.” Her eyes assessed his face, trying desperately to read him. He could feel his mother and Benedict’s eyes on him as well, but he was still looking at Kate.

“It…” He wracked his brain, trying desperately to get it working enough to form a fully coherent sentence. It didn’t help at all that his body seemed to be conjuring back the images of last night’s dream. “It smells really good.”

“Oh.” Her mouth is parted in surprise, her eyes impossibly wide before her lips curl in a sweet smile. “Thank you.” Her grin turns teasing, her eyes glinting with misfit. “But if you think complements will make me give you my Mallet of Death, you are very much mistaken, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“My mallet, you mean.” Her laugh sends jolts of electricity through his entire body.

“Your Uncle George gave it to me.” She poked a finger at his chest.

“It was not Uncle George’s to give. It was Aunt Billie’s.” This push and pull felt good, comfortable, the two of the bickering as they’ve always done. “And she’s given it to me.”

“But Uncle George named it, so it was his right to give it to me,” She snapped.

“Ah, but the set belongs to Aunt Billie, so it’s mine.”

“We shall see about that in today’s game, I suppose.” And with that, she turned around, Anthony was once again flooded with the smell of lilies from her hair floating behind her as she walked away, leaving them to keep up. And he stood there, his mouth agape, with Benedict dwarfing next to him.

“I do see why these two are Billie and George’s favourites.” He could hear his mother mumble to herself as he scrambled to follow Kate, Benedict right behind him.

Watching Kate with the black Pall Mall mallet clutched to her hand, her coppery skin glistening in the afternoon sun and the wind blowing on her hair is one of the strangest things Anthony has ever experienced. She is a vision in her purple day dress, her arms bare, little beads of sweat forming on her forehead and her most carefree smile adorning her lips.

Anthony managed to snatch the green mallet before Colin dashed for it, Daphne completely comfortable clutching the purple one while Benedict held onto the blue.

Most of Anthony’s concentration had to go to being able to keep up with Kate’s banter without getting completely distracted by the sweet smell of her new soap or her joyous laughter or her bright smile or her beautiful skin or her ridiculously long legs. And as a result, he was being thoroughly trounced at the game.

Every time he aimed a shot, the sound of Kate’s laughter or one of her teasing cheers would reach his ears and his ball would go completely astray. The only person behind him was Daphne and it was her first year playing.

He noticed Ben and Kate seemed to be enjoying themselves at his expense. Kate because she was as fiercely competitive as him and Benedict because he thrived in making fun of Anthony’s newfound inability to have rational thoughts near Kate.

The moment his ball rolled to a stop in the perfect direction to Kate’s, he realized it was all lost. The gleeful jubilation in her eyes was enough to prove he was, as of this moment, completely done for in the match.

“Oh Anthony, it’s such a shame!” It was clear to anyone listening how very not sorry she was for his predicament.

“Kate.” He groaned in warning.

“Wouldn’t it be just horrible if someone hit your ball away from the game?” Her tone was all fake innocence, blinking her eyelashes prettily as she moved to her own ball.

“Don’t.” He warned but it was of no avail. With a triumphant smile, she pulled all her body weight into her swing, forcing her ball to collide with his, sending the green one flying down the sloppy hill and out of sight.

She whooped, jumping in circles around Anthony in joyous celebration, engulfing his world in a blur of dark curls and lily scent.

“Players have to stick to their balls I’m afraid, Ant.” Anthony stared at her as she teased, her blinding smile flashing at him.

There was a whack next to them and they watched as the blue ball hit the black one, making it follow the green’s path towards the valley and trees at the bottom of the hill. Without noticing, Kate had grabbed a hold of Anthony’s bicep, squeezing it angrily as she watched Benedict grin, her mouth open wide.

“You should follow your ball, Kate!” Ben was leaning on the shaft of his mallet, his sleeves, like Anthony’s, rolled to his elbows, his smirk shameless as he mocked her. The murderous glare she was shooting his brother promised hell to pay for his actions. It would be wise for Benedict to watch his back in the following days. Maybe lock his windows before sleep. “Do try to spare Anthony his arm. I think he’s quite fond of it.” All eyes turned to Kate’s fingers around Anthony’s upper arm, turning pale from the force of her grip around his muscle. She dropped his arm with a shake of her head and huffed.

“Come, Anthony.” And with a flip of her head, she was marching down the slope towards their balls, her mallet dangling next to her. Anthony tried to follow, but his legs seemed to be malfunctioning, his body refusing to obey his brain, which in turn was completely taken by the sound of her voice and the smell of her skin.

His legs tangled beneath him, almost sending him straight to the ground. His arms flayed around for a moment before grabbing into Benedict for support to remain standing.

“Real smooth, Brother! Tripping over air.” His entire body was shaking with laughter as he patted Anthony’s shoulder affectionately. “I’m glad to see you still got it.”

Anthony was left with no choice but to follow the path Kate had taken, listening to the sound of her grumbling about their predicament. Even the sigh of her angry frown would send his heart dancing a jig into his chest And he couldn’t even keep his annoyance at her or Benedict for removing him from the game or her theft of his mallet. He wasn’t even really bothered when they both found themselves sitting in a puddle, his laughter joining hers as they ended up on their bums in the mud.

#my writing #my fanfic #Bridgerton #writing #fanfic #anthony bridgerton #kate bridgerton #kate sharma #Best Friends to Lovers #Childhood Best friends AU #Oh no she's hot #It's is 6K of Anthony making a fool of himself #please forgive me #Benedict is having the time of his life

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sandandlightning · 2 years

Text

Kemetic Calendaring

The Ancient Egyptian Calendar is not easy to adapt to the Gregorian, and there are several Kemetic groups who have adapted it in many different ways, leaving a solo practicing Kemetic with many choices that can feel intimidating. I’m gonna go over some of the basics here and how and why I made decisions for the calendar I use for my personal practice.

Seasons and Months

First things first, we still have 12 months! But only 3 seasons, each with 4 months. This is the first thing I bring up because of how Egyptians wrote their dates. Rather than use the name of each month, they used the number of the month within the season and the seasons name, then the individual day. (in modern terms, this would be like writing June 5th as 1 Summer 5) I stick to this format, ngl, some of the months are very very hard for my dyslexic brain to spell.

The Seasons:

Akhet (the flood season)

Peret (the planting season)

Shomu (the harvest season)

Fortunately, information on the seasons is much more consistent and clear! Yay! An actual hecking miracle, praise be unto Re.

The Months:

Okay, so, if you want you can go on a deep dive and see the different names of different months from different periods or languages, or different spellings and romanizations of those names (check out my resources page). For peace of mind I used Sharon from KemeticIndependant’s romanizations, which are of the new kingdom names of the months. (With the exception of Epipi, because sometimes it's romanization gets too close to the name of the no-no noodle for comfort)

Each month had a deity associated with it, and sometimes that month’s name was the same as the deity.

Djehutet (1 Akhet)

Pa’en Opet (2 Akhet)

Hat-Hor (3 Akhet)

Ka-Her-Ka (4 Akhet)

Ta’Ibet (1 Peret)

Makhir (2 Peret)

Pa'en-Amunhotepu (3 Peret)

Pa'en-Rannutet (4 Peret)

Pa-Khonsu (1 Shomu)

Pa'en-Inet (2 Shomu)

Epipí (3 Shomu)

Mosen-Ra (4 Shomu)

Each month was 30 days long, divided into 3 10 day ‘weeks’ or decans. (I find following the 10 day decan schedule much better for my mental health, but I know that’s not a luxury everyone can afford)

To align with the correct number of days in a solar year, there are 5 intercalary days that do not belong to any month. These 5 days are the birthdays of Wsir, Heru, Set, Aset, and Nebt-het.

Their weekdays did not have names, and they just listed the full date (probably easier to keep track of scheduling with a decan similarly to how the metric system works. You know it's one decan away if it's the same main number 5-15-25, that sort of thing.) I did, while checking out a kemetic calendar app from the Earth Center, enjoy their structure of certain weekdays being marked for rest or ancestor/divinity offerings. I didn’t see anything like that elsewhere and didn’t dig too deep to find their sources, but I thought it was a nice structure regardless of how modern it may or may not be ^^

Adapting to Gregorian Dates:

This is where it gets messy. The start of the new year in Egypt began with the rise of the star Sirius. So one of the main deviations between calendars is when to count that date (and having to make that decision made me put off making my own calendar for a long time). See, Sirius doesn’t rise when it did way back when, and that date continues to subtly change. Some set up their calendars by setting the first day of the year as the day Sirius rises in modern times. Some who had taken that approach in the past (maybe the 80s?) then set a fixed calendar, making their calendar a few days off from someone who aligned their calendar with the rise of Sirius in 2022 0r 2023. And then there are those who decide to simply stick with a date from antiquity. I personally use the KemeticIndependant’s date for the new year, cited there as when Sirius would have risen in Tut’s time. (And to my understanding, this is a more popular date for those who chose to use a date from antiquity.) So for me, the new year begins on July 18th.

Another struggle with adapting the kemetic calendar to a modern one is that everything is based on the season of the Nile. Many modern pagans live in temperate zones with 4 seasons, or at the very least certainly don’t have the luxury of Egypt’s exact seasonal patterns. This means that a lot of holidays won’t line up with modern or even other pagan equivalents. Some do (shout out to the Hakar festival for being around Samhain) But you’re going to run into a lot of harvest festivals in march. Some more eclectic focused pagans may find adapting festivals to dates that make more sense seasonally will fit their needs better. I considered doing this for a long time, as I also celebrate the wiccain wheel of the year sabbats and nothing really lined up. I would still celebrate the Egyptian new year on the 18th of July, but move harvest festivals to fall and so on. While in the end I decided it wasn’t the right fit for me, it might be for someone else!

If you’re wondering about leap years- there is some accounting for that in the kemetic calendar! I’ll admit, I saw this information in passing and don’t remember it well, but gist was that they didn’t count the year as passed until 4 years had gone by. I’m not sure if they had a whole leap day per say, and may edit this later with an update on some research, but the takeaway is that dont feel bad for just treating feb 29 as intercalary so it doesn’t throw off your whole groove.

I am thinking of eventually putting up my nice pretty formatted 13 page kemetic calendar up somewhere. Though I will want to offer a version that is less specific to my personal practice, I may put my own up for reference for anyone who is curious ^^

#pagan #kemet #kemetic #paganism #kemetic calendar #personal practice

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hellomightmare · 2 years

Text

Yay it’s time for Horror sans!

Part 4 of fem human bad sans

She has a lot of scars from the fight but mostly from Gaster blasters

She’s 7ft 9 and really strong and kind chubby as well from eating a lot after not being able to for years

Had a lot of problems with food like hoarding them in her room and eating not then she needs in case she can’t for awhile

Her Papyrus dose not live in horror tale instead living in another au after Error took him from it, Horror travels to se whim a lot

She had to cut some of her body part off to feed Papyrus things like one of her breast and her fingers, Dust wants to make new body parts for her but can’t get tut right yet

Missing a eye like before, but had a eyepatch to some what cover it, the around around her eye is ripped and she really doesn’t like seeing it so she cover it up

Horror has tried to eat almost every sans, he mostly bits his teammates and some just let him because it’s not hurting them so why not

#fem human sans #female horror #female horror sans #genderbend #genderbend horror sans #genderbend horror #bad sans headcannon #bad guy sans headcannon #bad guy sans horror #horror sans #Undertale #Undertale aus #undertale headcanons #art #fanart #fanart horror sans #fanart horror #horror sans art

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nctsplug02 · 2 years

Note

hihi! i’m so glad requests are open! can i request dad!jaehyun & his wife trying for another kid after he gets baby fever? i’d love if you could include a little snippet of him taking care of her when she does get pregnant :”)

baby fever season // j.j

genre: fluff and smut

warnings: flirting, unprotected sex, creampie, snippets of the spicy parts, mentions of pregnancy, dirty talking, mentions of food play, mentions of giving birth (i am no expert at giving details, whatsoever).

masterlist

you had noticed your son and jaehyun watching lots of movies together with families of four. you shrugged it off and thought of it as nothing— until your son and husband came up to you while you made dinner.

“mommy.” the two of them purred, your son in the arms of your husband. “yes?” you matched their tones.

“we have a request and we need it confirmed by you.” you snort, glancing at the two. “what now, hm? wanna go to uncle johnnys again? go right ahead.” they shake their heads.

“we want another baby.” you stare at them in disgust. “i’m sorry? another baby?” you turn the fire off not wanting to burn the perfectly carmeled meat.

the two of them nod. “we need your confirmation, don’t we, yungjo?” your three year old nods. “mm, i don’t know. we can barely handle this trouble maker.” you ruffle the little ones hair who when giggles.

“please, mommy? i don’t wanna be the only baby.” your son pouts making you stammer. “i.. yungjo— crap.” you sigh. “mommy and daddy will talk about it later tonight, okay?” he nods.

as you then to set the table, your son and jaehyun silently cheer together.

jaehyuns fingers scissors you while he whispers the sweetest yet dirtiest things in your ear. “wanna be full and filled with my baby?” you whimper, holding his wrist.

“gonna fill this pussy up with my baby.” your legs begin shaking as your orgasm builds up.

“bad girl,” jaehyun tuts as you squirt. “made a big mess.” he pulls you by the ankles and towards the end of the bed.

“i’m sorry— oh, my god.” you gasp when he slaps your sensitive cunt. “sensitive, hm?” your nails dig into the sheets as he slowly rubs your clit. “jae, n—no.” your breath shakes.

a light sleep you were. the door of your bedroom being cracked open had woken you up. “jojo?” you asked, trying to sit up but the weight on you holds you down. “mommy?” the little voice calls.

“jae,” you tap the asleep man. “jae, baby. get off, please.” with a groan, the man pushes himself off you and slips his arms under his pillow.

you sit up, glancing around to find your son. instead of finding your son, you see your husbands hot back. fuck, his back muscles looked hot.

“mommy, help me.” your son grunts, grabbing the sheets as he attempts to pull himself up. “mommy’s coming, baby.” you giggle to yourself, grabbing his arms and pulling the boy up.

“good morning, jojo. are you hungry?” he sits on your lap and rests his head against you. “good morning, mommy. and yes, i’m hungry.” you kiss his forehead. “okay, let’s get up and make some breakfast, yeah?” he nods, climbing off your lap and slipping off the bed.

as the two of you made it to the kitchen, you lifted the boy up and sat him on the counter. “hm,” you hummed looking in the fridge. “what should mommy cook for us?” you asked, rummaging through the shelves.

you close the fridge with two boxes in your arms. “leftover kimchi from yesterday and some leftover chicken from last nights dinner. is that good or do you want pancakes?”

the boy doesn’t even think. “chicken! chicken!” he squeals, kicking his legs up in excitement. “okay, chicken and kimchi it is.”

as you close the microwave, your son suddenly asks a question, “mommy, did you and daddy make a baby last night?”

you start the coffee maker, holding in your laughter. “no, we didn’t—?”

a deep voice interrupts you as you try to answer. “yes, we did, jojo. mommy and daddy tried.” your son cheers a bit. “yay! does that mean mommy will have a baby in her tummy now?” you sigh as jaehyun cuddles himself behind you.

“well, it doesn’t really work like that, jojo.” you say calmly, tilting your head to the side as jaehyun digs his face into your neck. “so how does it work then?” your mouth parts as if you were going to say something but nothing came out.

“when you’re older, daddy will explain it to you.” he nods.

it was a few weeks since that talk with your son. and you had completely forgotten about it.

jaehyun wakes up to you throwing the blanket off of you and onto him. “babe?” he lift his head off his pillow and sees you dash out the room. “what the fuck?” he begins to freak out and quickly dashes after you.

he hears you throwing up in the bathroom and quickly runs in. “baby, what’s wrong?” he squats next to you and gathers your hair, holding it up as you puke up your guts.

jaehyun pats your back as you cough and sit up. “fuck,” you wipe your lips and chin. “does your tummy hurt?” he asks rubbing your belly and then patting your head with the back of his hand.

“you aren’t burning up?” he says confused. “i think.. i think i might be pregnant?” you say and jaehyun jerks his head back. “c—can you run to the store and get me a test?” he nods, standing up and rushing out the bathroom.

“i’ll be back.” he says with his jacket, keys, and phone in his hands. “i love you.” he presses a firm kiss on your temple and leaves the house.

within ten minutes, the man returns and sees you in the living room all washed up with jojo next to you.

“take it, take it.” he says giving you the box and tossing the bag to the side. “i don’t have to pee yet— oh, my god!” you giggle feeling him lift you off the couch and tossing you over his shoulder.

“daddy, don’t drop mommy!” jojo says following behind the two adults. jaehyun sits you on the counter and snatches the box from you.

you watch as jaehyun quickly opens it and rips out one of the sticks. “i’m gonna go get a cup and when i get back, you’re gonna pee in it.” you laugh, watching the man run out. “jaehyun, you’re crazy!” you laugh and then stare down at your toddler.

“your daddy is crazy.” jojo nods in agreement. “you both are— that’s where i got my craziness from.”

jaehyun gets back with a small plastic up and holds in front of your face. “it’s go time, baby.” you hop off the counter and you slip your pants and panties off.

jaehyun and jojo watch as you sit on toilet, just sitting and not peeing. “guys.. i have a shy bladder— i can’t pee with people watching me.” you say uncomfortably. “that’s a lie.” jaehyun says, half laughing. “uh— get out!” you tut.

the two giggle and leave, closing the door as they do.

you do your business, peeing just a bit in the cup and sticking the stick in.

“boys, im done.” and with that, the two boys bust in with excitement.

“is it positive?” jaehyun asks staring at the stick. “it hasn’t said.” you say.

“does mommy have a baby in her tummy?” your son asks trying to take a peek at the stick. “it hasn’t said.”

“are we having another boy?” your son asks. “it still hasn’t— we won’t know for another good three months.”

five minutes past and after answering the questions of from your son and husband— you almost went nuts.

“let’s just check it, okay?” you shake the stick into the cup and you flip it over. “holy fuck.” you say with shaking hands.

“ou, mommy said a bad word.” jojo scolds you.

“it’s positive.” you say with big eyes.

“what?” jaehyun and jojo both say at once.

you sigh— more like heave over seeing a bottle of whip cream. “just get it, baby.” jaehyun whispers from behind you. “who knows, we might have some fun with that tonight.” he voice suggesting.

he rubs your belly and giggles when feeling a kick. “seems like baby wants some whip cream too.” you giggle, grabbing two bottles of it and putting it in the cart.

“babe?” you hiss through your teeth. “yeah, babe?” he answers quickly. “rub my boobies.” you pout. “they hurt.” you say lifting your swollen breasts. “don’t gotta ask me twice.”

he yanks your shirt and unclips your bra. “fuck, they feel so free— be free boobies!” you say in relief. jaehyun chuckles at your childish words.

“not just yet.” he says grabbing your breasts gently and squeezing them. “holy fuck, did you see that?” you gasp. “see what?” he leans to the side and forward to see your breasts.

“my boobs— they squirt milk! i’m fuckin’ awesome, dude!” you giggle which makes him laugh. “oh, my god. you’re weird.”

“do it, again! do it, again!” he rolls his eyes while softly laughing.

fat globs of tears rolled down your cheeks as you pushed the small human out of you— or so you thought.

“baby, you did so good. you’re done. no more pushing. all done.” he says kissing your head.

“no,” you say full on drugs that they doped you up with. “gotta push my baby out.. gotta make sure my baby comes out healthy..”

he chuckles softly. “no, baby. she’s out. she’s out and she’s healthy and she’s beautiful.” you cry, shaking your head.

“no, she didn’t come out.” you say with heaves. “she did, baby. look, she’s right here. she’s right here, baby.” jaehyun shows you the clean baby in his arms.

she was wrapped up in a blanket and had a hospital hat with a small bow on it.

“that’s our little girl?” he nods, feeling himself get worked up. “that’s our little girl.” he says in confirmation. “that’s our baby, jae.” you say through your cries.

jojo runs over to you and jaehyun. “mommy! daddy! ava puked!” you sigh and as you were about to slide off your seat, jaehyun shakes his head.

“i’ll get her.” he says, sliding off his stool.

“well, hurry! she could choke on her puke.” jaehyun quickens and run into the living room.

you and jojo both laugh at the man.

“daddy is stupid.” you and him both say.

#ash talks #nct smut #nct imagines #nctsplug02 #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #anon #nct scenarios #kpop smut #nct 127 #jung jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #nct dilf #nct dad au

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mrskodzuken · 2 years

Text

Green Frilly Apron

pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x gn!reader

genre: smut (domestic au)

wc: 0.7k

cw: 18+ MDNI; character/s aged up, househusband!Yuta, (kinda) dom!reader; m!receiving: cock slapping, nipple play, hand job, some ass spanking, implied blow job; slight dacryphilia; ‘love’, ‘darling’, and ‘good boy’ used as pet names; food mentioned. Lmk if I missed something 🙇🏻‍♀️

a/n: for @mitsuyaya, for accidentally feeding me with this spicy blurb about househusband!Yuta last night—I just continued it with both Yumi and Yuta, and how they portray Yuta in their writings, in mind. Also this is my writing debut for Jujutsu Kaisen, my first smut and overall writing post for the year 2022~ yay! 🤦🏻‍♀️😂 Thank you @osanoya for beta-reading this 🙇🏻‍♀️ *headpats* tagging @anime-central @hanayanetwork

Want to be a part of my general taglist? Form link on pinned.

“What’s for dinner?” you breathily ask him in his ear, your hands still palming his slowly erected cock under the green frilly apron he wore.

Yuta grips both the wok handle and spatula a bit tighter, cheeks flushed red, his low pants and mewls mixing in with the sizzling sound of the rice he is frying at the moment. Your husband loses his voice to respond to your question for a moment, his mind too lost in the pleasure he’s feeling right now. He couldn’t help it that warm soft hands wrap around his entire length, slowly pumping him up and down. Your hot breath fanning his neck, your equally hot wet tongue giving it long stripes before sucking it with your soft lips, sending shivers down his spine.

Yuta doesn’t notice one of your hands trailing through his stomach up to his chest, giving his nipples light feathery touches. You pinch a pert nip firmly between your thumb and index finger, making him yelp back into consciousness, rolling it gently.

“Well? You haven’t answered my question, love.” You stop stroking his cock, your thumb focusing on the tip now leaking with pre. Your other hand gives attention to his other nipple.

“Nngh… w-we’re… we’re gonna have—fuck—gonna have fried rice and b-braised vegetables for… for dinner—ahh!” He let out a moan after you suddenly slap his cock, a delicious hiss escapes from his lips music to your ears. You slap his weeping hard-on again before you pull your hands away from Yuta, who whimpers from the sudden loss of your touch.

“Yummy…” You reach for the stove and turn off the knob, giggling as you knead one of Yuta’s butt cheeks with your free hand, cooing at how smooth and pliable his ass is.

A sharp stinging Smack! has your husband’s eyes widen in pain after you spank him twice in a row from behind; his pants and moans become louder and obscenely filling the whole kitchen. He turns his head behind him, glancing at you with a fucked-up expression on his face. Tears start to form from his dark-colored eyes, his mouth slightly agape to let his tongue lolling out. You know what Yuta wants and you start giving him an open-mouthed kiss, both your tongues playing and you swallow his sweet moans; your lips find purchase on his tongue and hungrily suck it, slurping it like what you will do with his cock later.

“I’m hungry, Yuta~ The fried rice sounds delicious, but I want you for dinner tonight,” you slur in his ear, nibbling his earlobe, as you pull away again from your heated kiss, a string of saliva connected in between; that statement alone sends his throbbing cock twitching like crazy. Your fingers then catch the knotted string behind his back and pull it slowly, untying his apron in the process.

“Be a good boy and turn around for me, please, Yuta darling?” Your husband oblige, averting his eyes away from your own and his large veiny hands covering his bulge beneath the apron. You tut in disapproval, your head shaking.

“Hands on both sides, love. Let me see my darling husband’s cock, please?” Lo and behold, a wet patch of pre-cum seeps through the large tent forming behind the green frilly apron Yuta is wearing. Your eyes sparkle at the pretty sight, making you moan and your tongue wet your bottom lip.

You gently prod the patch with your finger, rubbing the tip of his cock through the apron, watching his body twitch at the sensation. You then lick the pad of your finger and smile before kneeling in front of him.

“Lift your cute frilly apron for me, please, but don’t remove it! I want to eat you while you wear the apron.”

“O-okay.” Yuta reaches for the hem of his apron and lifts it up to his chest, his cock hard and fully erect and its weeping head an angry red tip. His abs are contracting and covered in a sheen film of sweat.

You trace a prominent vein on the underside of his cock, causing him to mewl softly. You giggle and start stroking it again before your lips place a gentle kiss on the tip.

“Itadakimasu.”

#okkotsu yuta #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #okkotsu yuta smut #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuta x y/n #takipnet #tks.dayo #hanaya network #🐱saku.smut #🐱saku.fic #langit

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sylvie-writes · 2 years

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Roi de Coeur

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗: 𝖀𝖓𝖊 (𝕺𝖓𝖊)

𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊!𝕽𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖒 𝖝 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖗!𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 5.2K

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: it’s finally here! to be honest, the first chapter isn’t my favorite (well maybe that’s because I’ve stared at it more then 10 times) yet it gets much better :) my attempt at writing slow burn has finally succeeded, yay!

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖔

In the moment of the precious silence, you sat with your legs crossed and dangling over the edge of the tufted velvet on the wooden carved armchair. Slowly, you added ladder stitches to your latest dress, while relishing in the peace and warmth of the fireplace beside you. Focusing on the last few stitches before knotting the thread, your mother called out, immediately making you throw down the dress, and stand up.

“Yes, Mother?”

Rounding the corner, your mother came into the parlor, wiping her flour covered hands on the soiled white linen apron resting around her waist. Her hands now cleaned, your mother reached into the pockets of her dress, holding a few cents in the palm of her hand. Gently, she extended her hand into your own, passing over the metal coins.

“I’ve heard from your father that the Prince and his men shall visit this evening.”

Your eyes widened at the mere mention of the Prince. How would he even know of your small village, it must’ve only consisted of at least a hundred people. You pondered about the intentions of the Prince’s visit. Oftentimes, a visit from the Prince himself was not a good one, yet the people of the kingdom still must show respect despite the hatred for him. Maybe the Prince had finally listened to the pleas of his lower class folks? For years, the people of your village protested against the King, Prince Hugh’s father. Although, looking back, it was mainly the Queen, who ran the kingdom more than the King ever would. Her husband had his fair share of mistresses, it was a well known fact. You could only think that maybe she was taking out her anger on your folk. Their voices went unheard and for a long time, your people continued to pay the price. Over time, those taxes took a toll on the small village, leaving it to be rundown and unkept by the nobility, after all it was their land and you all were simply just living on it.

“Enough of our gossip. Take your sister into the town for the finding of fabrics. She’s in need of a new dress. Now go on, my love.”

Your mother gently tutted you, slightly pushing on the small of your back. As of now, your seven year old sister, Marjorie, was most likely out in the garden, watching the ducks waddle through the overgrown scutch grass. Although against your parents’ wishes, Marjorie would save the tiniest piece of her bread, and give it to the ducks. With money sparse in your household, food was a necessity any of you would never waste. If your parents were to find Majroie “wasting the bread on foolish animals,” she’d be in for a beating over your father’s knee. Being her much older sister, Marjorie looked up to you and you weren’t going to be the one to break her childhood, especially with the precious smile on her face at the sight of the ducks. You can even remember those days, learning to sew your own doll from flour sacks. Poverty could destroy and tear apart families, but you and your own always tried to make life enjoyable, even if it were just the small things.

From the many rumors, varying from distant whispers to straight up gossip, Prince Hugh, called Ransom by those he adored, was quite the man. He put up a caring facade for the lower class people, claiming he was their ally, when in reality he was just flashing a smile for more time with his mistresses. The thought of him angered you. How could he turn a blind eye to your struggling friends and family. To think of the many lies the man had spewed made your rage grow up to your eyes. Tonight, if you did indeed meet the Prince, it would be very difficult to keep your anger at bay. For if you were to speak out, they could have your head on a block.

“Marjorie, Mother requested I take you into the city for fabrics. The Prince may be visiting the village this evening.”

Her little blonde braids whipped around, a bright smile on her face. She was so innocent to the wicked doings of the Prince. In her eyes she, the Prince, could do no wrong. Oh how she’s read too many fairy tales. Quickly, she stood from her seat on the ground, brushing off the dirt that made home on the cotton of her dress. Marjorie skipped her way over to you and placed a hand in your inviting one.

Entering the humble little shop, you were met with the welcoming smile of Mrs. Johnson, the woman who had run the fabric shop for as long as you can remember. The two of you were like old friends as you shared sewing tips with each other all the time. On your birthday, she even gifted you with a cotton fabric you’d been eying for months. Marjorie politely told the older lady what color cotton she was looking for. Hurriedly, Mrs. Johnson rushed off and soon returned with a copious amount of baby blue fabric. As you were handing over the payment, Mrs. Johnson started making some small talk.

“Did you hear Miss? The Prince is visiting your village tonight!

The draper leaned over the counter and whispered as if it were a secret. News such as that traveled fast, even in the more urban parts of the city. The people lived for drama, no matter where they were from. You returned a kind smile to the older woman, not showing much excitement.

“Indeed. Marjorie is in need of a new dress for his visit, hence our visit. I’m much obliged for your assistance, Madam.”

As your attention was directed to the shoes clicking against the cobblestone of the street, Marjorie voiced her excitement, talking endlessly about the Prince’s “dreamy blue eyes”.

Once home, your father and older brother, Louis, who were working on the broken railing that sat upon the porch, waved you both over. Quickly, you said your greetings, but then rushed off to work on Marjorie’s dress as time was ticking away.

Your father, a man ahead of his time, believed that women had much more of a purpose than they were titled. As a young child, your father taught you many trades that a woman should not know. In the fields, you’d assist him, or he’d show you the works of a carpenter. You may have been the only woman in your village to know how to use such tools. Ever since you were a little girl, your father would always say, “When you grow up, do whatever your heart desires, and don’t let anyone, even a man, stop you, my dear.” And as the years passed, you kept that saying close to heart. In that time, little had you known that your father was setting aside money, just so you could purchase a nice fabric. When you were 16, your father presented you with the money, and despite your attempts to give it back, he wouldn’t take it. So now, as an 18 year old woman, you’ve put that money to use, and created the finest dress you own. One you’d be wearing to see the Prince tonight. Sewing was your passion, as you were skilled in the art, and clearly your father knew that as well.

As for your brother Louis, he was 19. A year older than you. Growing up, you two were inseparable and to this day you still are. Being so close, you called Louis “Lou.” In return, he’d often teasingly call you “Birdie”. When you were younger, you loved to watch the birds up in the tree, Louis being an older brother obviously teasing you for your fascination. To this day, you both still call each other those nicknames, but not to get on each other’s nerves. (A thing you did as kids.) Around Marjorie’s age, Louis taught you how to play baseball, something you loved to play. When your little sister was born, you and Louis had the best time being able to live as young kids again. Now, Louis was a young man, finding his way in the world. It was always thought Louis would be the first to go off into the world and leave home, but oh how the tables would soon turn.

Women of your era were supposed to wear petticoats and bustles, yet you had neither. Maybe then Prince Hugh would be able to see that even the smallest of things, your people could not afford. Hopefully then it would go through his thick skull since the only thing he was interested in was what was beneath a dress.

You and Marjorie shared a room, but at the moment, she was getting dressed with your mother, leaving you and your thoughts all alone. Hurriedly, you put on the corset, leaving it slightly loose as you’d rather get ridiculed than suffocate. Next, you put on your dress, which neatly resided in your closet. This dress was the most expensive thing you owned, and as everything you owned, you took great pride in it. It was a white cotton dress, layered with a bit of embroidered chiffon, along with Juliet sleeves that came to your elbows. Since you had neither undergarments to make the dress puffy, it lightly laid around your hips, accenting your figure. As for your hair, you wore it half up and half down. A bun on the top, while the other half was curled in the fashion of “Shirley Temple” curls. Having owned no jewelry, save for your grandmother’s earrings, you were nothing but an overdressed village girl, or at least in the eyes of nobility.

Exiting the bedroom, and walking towards your parents, you found Marjorie sitting on the bench in front of the vanity, your mother behind her, plaiting the two braids into one. From the minute you stepped foot into the house, you spent the time diligently sewing Marjorie’s dress, not a soul dared to bother you. Many girls and women could sew, but not as fast as you. Over the years, you perfected the skill, able to sew beautifully while being quick. Sitting in a peaceful room and sewing till your heart's content was your happy place. Now, all that hard work had paid off, as Marjorie happily sat in the dress, telling your mother how much she adored it. Your mother caught sight of you in the mirror and flashed you a smile full of gratitude.

Delicate sandwich crumbs fell on the Prince’s pristine white linen top, smaller specks making home on the ruffle of his collar. His posh black and gold embroidered baroque blazer hung on the back of the metal garden chair.

“Ransom, were you even listening to a word I’ve said?”

His mother angrily snatched the half eaten sandwich from his hand, making the man sit up from his slouched position, brushing the fallen pieces of his hair out of his eyes. It was evident that the Prince had experienced a long night.

“Yes, Mother. You were talking about the peasants.”

The foreign word leaving a bitter taste in his entitled mouth.

“Listen up, cause I’ll only say it once, son.”

The queen, with fire in her eyes, held her son’s chin towards her determined stare, making sure that this time he was listening and not letting her words escape his ears. If it was one thing, Queen Linda did not like her words to fall upon deaf ears, even including her son’s. She was a woman married to her work, caring more for the kingdom than she ever would her family, maybe that would explain her son’s petulant behavior. The queen held herself high, and that meant everyone else would too. Her husband, King Richard, was nothing of a king and instead let her handle the ruling while he’d fool around, a trait passed onto his son. Ignoring the many rumors of her husband, despite them being true, Linda still managed to rule the kingdom without so much as turning her head to the tales.

“Tonight, you will go to the village. Satisfy the people, make them believe they are being heard. Pick one resident, and they shall “represent” the people here in the castle where we will satiate their needs. I’m tired of hearing the complaints, it strains me so.”

One thing about the Drysdale household was their love for drama.

With that the Prince nodded his head, accepting his fate and then continuing to scarf down the lunch.

Evening had come and you and Marjorie had helped your mother prepare a feast while Louis and your father cleaned up the residence a bit. No one knew for sure if the Prince was coming, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Your village, small and humble, with the houses not too far apart, allowed for any sound to be heard. Including the royal fanfare, signaling the arrival of the Prince. Peeking out the front window, you could see the back of who you presumed to be the royal man himself, stopping in front of one of the houses, knocking, then going in. To describe your village in simple form, would be to say that the houses were practically in a row, at least twenty of them lined up. Although twenty houses did not seem to be a lot, many times more than one family shared a house, luckily your own not being one of those families. For now, you, Louis, and Marjorie sat in the parlor, entertaining yourself as your parents busied themselves with more housework, bringing the house to tiptop condition. The Prince may have been a mere four houses away, but who knew how long that could take.

After what felt like ages, a heavy knock resounded on the wood of the front door, everyone in your family lining up as your father went to answer the door. The man who surprisingly knocked on the door was in fact the Prince, two of his guards trailing behind. Upon entry, the Prince looked around the house, almost as if he were judging the interior design. At his facial expressions you wanted to scoff. He was only in your house for a few quick seconds and you wanted to scowl at him, but instead, you plastered a fake smile on your face, trying to contain Marjorie who was a bundle of energy at the sight of the Prince. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint an age on the man, but he did indeed look a bit older than Louis, the slight creases on his forehead saying so. Immediately, you and your family paid your respect to the man, bowing and curtseying. For a moment, the silence in the room was becoming unpleasant, especially when the Prince did a once over on your dress, making you feel slightly self-conscious. Before the silence could overwhelm you anymore, your brother made the first move as your parents were practically frozen in shock that the Prince was standing in their humble parlor.

“Please do sit down, your Highness.”

Louis motioned to the velvet armchair you had been sitting in earlier, the Prince gracefully taking strides towards the chair. As he did so, your mother pushed you and the family towards the small sofa where it sat directly across from the Prince. The sofa could only fit two people, so you and your mother sat down, Marjorie bouncing around in her lap, while Louis and your dad stood near the ends of the couch. None of you knew the reason for the Prince’s visit, so you sat and waited patiently till he opened his mouth.

“I’ve been sent here to answer your calls for help. Now, please enlighten me with your problems.”

The way he wouldn’t look any of you in the eyes disgusted you. His tone sounded so mocking and factitious. When your family members started to speak up one by one, voicing their woes with a glimmer of hope, you internally grimaced knowing what kind of game the Prince was playing. You weren’t going to fall into his little trap, so instead you kept your lips tightly sealed.

Or so you thought.

“What about you, Miss-”

Your mother discreetly shoved your back, making you look up to the Prince. Thank goodness you were slightly listening to his ever annoying voice.

“Miss. (y/n).”

The Prince nodded, a look of approval on his face.

“Well, Miss. (y/n), tell me. What do you think needs to be done here?”

A passionate fire ignited inside of you, and you were ready to voice your opinion, regardless if it were the Prince or not listening. You knew the minute you did so, your mother might just slap you right there and then.

“For starters, our people are constantly paying taxes worth more than our incomes. We are practically taking the nobilities’ taxes for them! They are reaping what we sow. If you think about it, we are the base of this kingdom. We take care of all the produce and materials, to earn what? Now, I know you’ve probably heard of the cries for money, making us look like beggars, but it’s truly not that way. For most of us anyway. We need recognition in order to live. Have you seen our village? It’s falling apart and we can no longer afford to care for it, let alone ourselves. We need some support as the nobility is often awarded, even though they do not need it. I do apologize for stepping out of line, your Highness, but it had to be said.”

Taking a deep breath after your long speech, you bowed your head, preparing for an outlash from the Prince or your own mother. Quickly when the man didn’t respond, your mother rushed through many different apologies, her ragged breath ceasing when the Prince outstretched his hand for her to stop.

“No. Do not be mad at her. She is just what we have been looking for. You know, the past few families I have just visited were self-oriented, but you are speaking not only for yourself, but others.”

You looked up with the expression matching that of a deer staring into headlights. It felt so surreal that the Prince would even agree with you.

“First thing tomorrow morning I shall come get her myself.”

The Prince rose from the chair, his statement leaving you all baffled. Your parents, ever the obedient ones, didn't dare defy his statement, as your protective brother stepped in and asked the question you all wanted to know.

“I beg your pardon? We never heard anything about anyone leaving the village.”

He spun around on his heel, lips parted to form an “o”, as he heavily placed a hand on your brother’s shoulder.

“Ah yes. Well, I came here to find one person to represent the village, to practically give me some insight as to what you all need. You do want the help don’t you?”

His tone was mocking, but if leaving home meant to help it, you’d gladly do it. Just as Louis was about to give a piece of his mind to the Prince, you quickly cut in curtseying so he’d just leave already.

“There is no problem, your Highness. I shall see you tomorrow.”

A small smirk grew on the man’s pink and plush lips as he grabbed your delicate hand that lightly rested on top of your dress. Slowly, he brought your hand to his lips, the softness of them surprising you. His blue eyes bore into your own as he placed the gentlest of kisses to the back of your hand. Your fingers then uncurled from his own as he pulled away, receiving the acts of respect from your family. With that, he walked out. Your mind was racing and your feet were implanted to the ground. You were sure that if you stood there for one more second you’d just melt into the earth as you hoped. Suddenly, your brother’s booming voice snapped you from your daydreams.

“You guys can’t be serious. There is no way (y/n) is going with that creep! Did you see the way he looked at her? Kissed her hand and such? He’s just going to use her like the rest of the women that step foot into the castle. I think we all know that she won’t be doing us any service unless that means being on her knees in front-”

“Enough!”

Your father quickly spoke up as your mother rushed Marjorie out of the room. This conversation was no place for children.

“Do not tell me ‘enough’ when my little sister is about to be thrown to the wolves!”

He came face to face with your father, not showing an ounce of fear. Never had Louis ever spoken out against your parents before, let alone ever been this angry. Hurriedly, you moved from your place and rested a hand on Louis’s shoulder, his tense figure loosening.

“I’ll be fine, Lou. Do not fret, it will take a lot for the Prince to break me.”

You stood on tippy toes to kiss his cheek and pat his chest comfortingly. With the argument settled, you dejectedly shuffled away and to your room.

Amongst the yelling between you, Louis, and your parents, no one had taken account of Marjorie’s feelings.

Your bedroom door was slightly shut, and just as you were about to open it, a few sniffles halted your actions.

Marjorie was on your bed, her knees tightly hugged to chest as her tears flowed down her nightgown that you had crafted for her. Her back was leaned into your pillow and she snuggled herself into your bedding.

Unaware of your presence, Marjorie continued to cry her heart out, stopping immediately when she felt the bed dip.

“Oh my love, what is wrong?”

You opened your arms to her. At your offer, the little girl crawled into your arm, her face shoved into the soft curls of your hair.

“Why! Why is the Prince taking you from me?! I thought he was supposed to be a good man!”

As much as you hated the Prince, knowing your appearance at the castle would most likely be overheard; you were still determined to make it work somehow. The Royals’ plan would backfire on them, but it seemed that the Prince was trying to find a firecracker as yourself, someone who wouldn’t back down. Maybe the Prince was finally changing his act, and sticking to his word. Even though you wanted to bad mouth the man to Marjorie, you couldn't do that. Not yet until you knew him personally. What the people were saying were just speculations and you really couldn't go by those as true as they seemed.

“Mar, Prince Hugh isn’t bad. He is trying to help us.”

She looked up at you, reading your expression to make sure it was true.

You brought a thumb to wipe her tears, “I promise you will see me soon.”

Nodding, the little girl leaned her forehead against your own, the two of you resting in silent peace.

“Now that everything is as right as rain, how about you help me pack?”

Marjorie excitedly nodded and you smiled at her. Together, you and Marjorie packed away your minimal selection of clothes, neatly folding them into the luggage given to you by Louis.

By the time you had finished, the wooden wall clock read a little past nine. Marjorie was starting to drift as you got situated for bed, changing into your own nightgown. Standing in front of the vanity, you softly brushed your hair and tied off the bow on your sleepwear, when suddenly a little hand gently tugged at your arm. It was Marjorie, bashfully swaying side to side.

“Sissy, can I sleep with you tonight?”

At once, you set down your hairbrush, and turned to take Marjorie's hand in yours. Silently, you lead her to your bed, pulling down her side of the bed and tucking her in with a kiss to the forehead.

“G’night.”

Marjorie curled into herself, a plush teddy bear in her arms.

“Sweet dreams, love.”

Running a quick hand over her hair, you rounded the bed to get in on your own side.

Morning light came quick, but your mother came in quicker.

Last night you had trouble sleeping, toiling over your family and your own fate with the nobility. Frantically, your mother shook your shoulder, waking you up in a panic.

“Mother, what’s wrong?!”

It was barely above a whisper, “He’s here.”

You looked over to the clock, seeing as the time was only seven in the morning. The Prince had never said he’d be there so early, but eager to please you hopped from quickly tidying yourself up a bit. In such a frenzy, you forgot one major item. Your nightgown.

Entering the parlor, you found no one else to be in the room, except for the Prince who had a mischievous smile on his face. At his expression you quirked an eyebrow and he motioned to your attire, a laugh slipping from his lips. Immediately, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and in shame you looked down at your feet, hoping the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

In a few strides, the Prince stood before you, his hand raising your chin to his line of sight.

“I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed, Miss. (y/n). You look quite adorable, might I add.”

You just smiled, not sure what to say. His flirtatious comments, although nice, were irritating, as they could ruin your whole chance at being respected.

“Well, are you ready? Lead me to your bags.”

At his request, your jaw dropped, “Your highness, do you mean that you are going to carry my baggage?”

He wore an amused smile and nodded. “Indeed I am. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No! Not at all, thank you very much for your assistance.”

With that, you led him towards your room, a once asleep Marjorie, now gone, leaving just you and the Prince alone.

Hurriedly, you went to gather your things into one location as Prince Hugh sat on the edge of your bed, observing the quaint room.

“Might I ask why you came alone, Prince Hugh?”

“Let’s just say that my mother wasn’t pleased to hear that I found someone who cared.”

The man chuckled and just gazed into your eyes, a glimmer of playfulness in those orbs of blue.

“I will be honest with you, I thought the same, your Highness.”

“What do you mean?”

He was being so friendly and genuine, you felt you like giving him a chance. The anger dissipated in your mind and changed to something else. Gossip and rumors were something you tried to rid your brain of at the moment. With him in your presence, you’d be the judge of his true character.

“I knew the true intentions of your visit were just a mere illusion, to pick a random villager and make it seem that you all cared.”

Prince Hugh, quite the charmer, stood from your bed and gently took the baggage from your hands.

“I defied my mother’s orders because you seemed so passionate about change. Actually seeing you and the villagers made my whole attitude change. Do not fret, you and I will make a change for your people, this is my promise to you.”

The man snaked his hand up to your face, his warm palm enveloping your cheek in what you were hoping was a friendly manner. He hesitantly placed his hand, and when you leaned into his touch, you somewhat fauxly reassured the Prince’s fears. You were just openly giving him a chance. In hopes of pursuing this blossoming friendship.

After the interaction, the Prince carried your bags down as you held only a jacket, trailing behind the man who walked with determination. You both crossed towards the junction where the front door and kitchen met. In the room, you found all of your family, each of them already dirtied with dirt and grime from working. Each of their eyes widened at the sight and Prince Hugh just snugly smiled, setting down your luggage on the floor beside him.

“We are off Mr. (y/ln) and Mrs. (y/l/n).”

The Prince reached out to shake your father’s hand, and to kiss your mother’s. All of you were shocked at his humbleness. Next, he shook Louis’s hand, placing a hand on his shoulder. Your brother, still grounded in his opinion, wore a faux smile.

“Take care of my sister,” Louis growled. The Prince, not intimidated, nodded and respected his wishes.

Finally, little Marjorie, who hid behind your mother’s leg, was offered a hand from the Prince. Shyly, she pried her hands from your mother’s leg and extended a hand. With a kind smile, Prince Hugh placed a kiss on her small hand, aware of her little crush, one you had mentioned on the way down. His warm interaction with your family made your lips curl into a small smile, but you’d never let him know.

The Prince walked out, giving you some privacy with your family.

“Precious girl, stay safe, and please keep in touch.” your father held you close as tears finally fell from your face. You leaned back with a sad smile, going to hug your mother.

“You’re gonna make us so proud, dear girl.” With a pitiful smile of her own, she gently kissed your hair, exiting the room with you father, leaving Marjorie and Louis behind. Heavy sobs racked the little girl’s body and she jumped into Louis’s arms who held her around his hip.

You looked at the two, mouthing the words, “take care of her,” to Louis who nodded. Sadly, he held out a hand, pulling you in for a group hug.

“If he lays a hand on you, Birdie, I swear-”

“Louis, hush. Give him a chance, okay? You know me, I’ll let you know at once. Besides, you didn’t teach me how to throw a punch for nothing.”

He shook his head and kissed your cheek in response. Louis then walked off with Marjorie who waved goodbye and was too sad to truly say farewell.

In the empty room, you took a deep breath, assuring yourself that it would all be okay. Taking a step out the front door, you knew there was no turning back now.

The Prince stepped out from the carriage, opening the door for you, and once again amazing you with his manners. The same ones you thought were non-existent.

Once in, you sat a mere foot apart from the Prince. Your hand rested on the velvet seat, lightly touching the side of his own. No longer able to take the suspense, you asked the question you’d been dying to know.

“Why are you so kind to me?”

He thought for a minute, before turning back to answer.

“My reputation precedes me, there’s more to me than you know.”

His hand reached for yours, yet you slightly moved it away. The man was a bit shocked although he quickly and nonchalantly hid the reaction.

“Oh Prince Hugh, you have much to learn about me as well.”

𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐!

it gets better in the next chapter hehe...

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #prince!ransom drysdale #roi de cœur #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans au #chris evans x reader

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