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#a world of contradiction on this man's jaws and chin <3
malignedaffairs · 4 months
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If you look closely, Morgott's beard is a peculiar construction somewhere between old man too sad and busy for personal hygiene and neatly trimmed to perfection like he treats himself to a barber's visit twice a week and I think that's beautiful.
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tarithenurse · 5 years
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Agent of Hope - 2
Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, eventually Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents for chapter: CA:WS spoilers (tiny bit), cursing, angst, some gore (vague description of injuries), angst, mention of crimes and disaster, angst. A/N: I am humbled and delighted by the amount of positive reactions on the “pilot”, so yeah: it’s a go on the series! Yay!  And of course any feedback and reblogging is appreciated <3
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2 - When reality comes knocking
The world around you is fluctuating between dullness distanced from you by a film of silence or much too close with all the hustle and bustl- with the ceaseless bombardment of goddamn everything! People are crowding you in the subway close enough that the sharp stink of sweat is inescapable. But as much as the pushes of foreign bodies make you anxious it also grounds you somehow because there’s no calm for your thoughts to run circles in your throbbing head.
Did he know? Rumours are flying in the press and accusations used as ammunition in the offices of important people. It’s hard to know who knew what in the lower ranks before SHEILD got razed. Hydra. Can Brock be one of them? You’re his girlfriend, and that title makes you want to shout to the high heavens that the man in your life is innocent and had nothing to do with what seems to be the planning of a massacre…nothing crosses your lips, though, and the suspicion is killing you.
The pre-recorded voice announces the stop, and you shoulder your way out of the stale-smelling cart, following the stream of people up to ground level where there almost is a sense of clean air. Almost. Are people watching you as you hurry down the street towards the hospital? Probably not. They don’t know who you are or why you’re shaking as you reach the counter in the hospital lobby to ask for Brock Rumlow, boyfriend.
Fear choked you just as horribly as the nausea once you came to under the desk. On shaking limbs, you clawed your way up on the chair before reaching for water and chewing gum while trying to ignore the phone lying useless near the potted Cala lilies that your secretary loved. It wouldn’t help to call, so you had to wait. Pretend to be fine and wait. It was the longest 24 hours in your life. No sleep or food out of sheer terror. Next day you called in to leave instructions, and then you waited for the right time because that’s what you’d seen. Brock in the hospital. Brock injured. Brock raging.
The nurse’s warning isn’t necessary and so you listen without hearing, only content when she walks away to give you the privacy you need in the “trying time”. At least it’s a private room. Drawing the curtain aside, there’s no shock at the sight of bandages, tubes and whatnot. It’s a miracle he survived, the nurse has explained, but the real miracle is that Brock’s awake. He just doesn’t react to your presence.
“Brock…?” you try tentatively and without effect, “Rumlow?”
You’ve read somewhere once that survivors might mentally be locked in the mindset they were in when the accident or whatever happened. Maybe that’s not true, but it works with Brock and as such he’s reduced to Rumlow the agent.
“Copy.” The man’s voice is a hoarse whisper. “The bathard go’ in the way.” The wires holding the jaw together slur his speech. “Cap’n and hith bitheth go’ in the way o’ the plan…”
All of a sudden the room is too small and a cold is seeping into your bones. No. No NO! The redhead working with Captain America (according to rumours) has opened the floodgates that used to contain all the secret files of SHEILD and, apparently, the part of Hydra that was working from within. There’s too much for someone like you to read through, but news stations and a ton of more trustworthy organisations are working through them, revealing the broad strokes as they go along.
“What could you’ve done differently…Rumlow?” It’s strange to call your boyfriend by his last name, but what you’re piecing together is revealing a very different person than your Brock.
Wires strain, lips split open in the same way the wounds on the lower half of his face does, sending thin tendrils of yellow and crimson rolling down his chin and throat until they’re swallowed in the bandages of other injuries. His eyes are the worst. A fire has been lit behind them, destructive and out of control as it burns with madness.
“Killed them. Killed Cap. Killed hith friendth.” The voice contradicts the far-away gaze, dropping the temperature in the room even more. “Long ago. I thould ‘ave killed Rogerth.”
No. This can’t be real. Battling your own body, it’s a miracle the voice stays calm at least. “And now?”
“Ne’er back down. Hail Hydra.” A cough rattles his body from the effort, but by then you’re already out of the room.
Trailing an invisible path through the apartment, you can’t find rest in the home you used to share with Brock. Rumlow. Hydra agent. The shock has dissipated, leaving you numb enough to think logically in the hopes of finding a solution to the mess.
That’s when it happens again. As if the constant throbbing in your head the last days wasn’t enough, a new flash of excruciating pain makes you crumble like a used napkin. Brock. People in black picking him up at the hospital. Home, they are searching. Picture of you. Agony threatens to split your skull as poisons and explosions takes place in your mind – with Brock at the centre of it all. Hatred. Death. You know the men must be other Hydra agents and that they’re coming to take care of things. Of loose ends. I’m a loose end.
Stumbling to your feet, still swaying and with tears streaming down the face, you force yourself to act. There’s a backpack for hiking on top of the cabinet where enough of your clothes and a few irreplaceable belongings can fit. Peeling the photos from the frames, you take them too, pain from your head echoed in your heart at the finality of it.
What now? There’s nowhere you can go, where Brock won’t be able to track you down. The realization gives birth to another fear, and you scramble to find your phone. It’s gotta go. Unlocking it, the first thing on the screen is an article about the redhead, Natalia Romanova (maybe, she seems to have many names). Clever grey eyes bore into your soul with the clarity even pixels can’t remove, giving you the answer.
Half an hour later, you’re on a bus, phone already discarded in the frenzied hope that that will delay Brock and his fellow…fellow…fellow traitors.
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Bucky Barnes X reader
Insurance: chapter 3
Summary; Reader has also met Pierce who has confirmed her situation of being a toy to the ‘Asset’. She has seen what Bucky looks like, but has been put into another isolated room. Awaiting his return from a mission.
Warning: mention of blood, slight violence, smut finally 😉
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Y/N POV;
It’s been three days. Three days since Iv been locked in this room, awaiting the Asset to return. The room itself was slightly better than the one I first experienced. The bathroom was the same, but with a few extra products for the shower along with a cabinet. There wasn’t much inside, a toothbrush, tooth paste and a hair brush. Clearly they wanted me to remain in at least decent condition for the asset. Just like the last room there was a wardrobe full with grey tops, shorts and a whole manner of different lingerie types. I couldn’t even name half of them, there was so many! It was irritating to admit that some of them were pretty, but it doesn’t mean I wanted to wear them. The ones Iv had on were incredibly uncomfortable so far. Next to the wardrobe was a desk with a few old books, next to that a laundry basket and finally there was the bed. This was the biggest shock. Instead of the shitty, thin, worn down bed in the other room this one was a king size with a few pillows and different thickness blankets. This would make sleep easier, if it wasn’t for the paranoid state I was constantly in.
On the forth day I was awoken by my daily breakfast being delivered by a silent agent. They never once spoke to me, despite my tries. This usually consisted of a bottle of water, an apple and a plastic bowl of oatmeal along with a plastic spoon. I would receive another meal at what I could guess was around 5 o’clock, of course I couldn’t tell as there was no clock or window. The ‘supper’ was simply another bottle of water and a sandwich.
After eating the food I slid the bowl back through the doors latch and without a word the agent left me alone. I placed my apple on the desk to save for later in the day, and I sat down in the middle of the bed.
As what felt around mid day, I was reading one of the books HYDRA had oh so kindly provided me with when I was interrupted by the blaring of an alarm. The sudden piercing noise shocked me so much I jumped slightly with a yelp, to which I quickly covered my mouth in a poor attempt to hide my embarrassment. A thundering hoard of footsteps could be heard running back and forth through the hall. I stood up from my seated position on the bed and put my book back on the desk. Before I could even go closer to the door it swung open and in matched a single agent who I had never seen before. The man gave me a cold stare before stating “The Asset will arrive in 10 minutes. Be prepared” and with that he sauntered out the room.
Blinking in shock, my hands began to shake, ‘holy shit, what do I do?!’ Panic began to flood through my veins as I scrambled to make the ‘room’ as neat as possible, who knows what he will be thinking when entering the room. I decided to change into a clean shirt and shorts, accompanied by a baby blue one piece lingerie. If it were not for the sheer lace material one might mistake it for a swimmer, that is, one with an incredibly low back and deep V line at the front. ‘Thank god for these baggy tops’ I thought to myself. As time began to run out on my little preparations, I sat down on the edge of the bed, with my back straight and hands in my lap. After what felt like a century, the door swung open and someone was shoved through. The door slamming shut once again.
I could tell it was the Asset, aside from his unmistakable metal arm and leather tactile gear, I recognised his relatively long brown hair, if I was in any other position I’d be longing to run my fingers through it. His hair looked so soft, despite the obvious debris in it. As I trailed my eyes up his body, a pink hue overtook my cheeks as I realised he caught me staring. The most intense, steel blue eyes I’d ever seen were staring back at me. They looked dead, soulless despite their beauty. It was almost poetic how contradicting they were compared to the rest of him. His obviously sharp jaw line was covered by a black mask, which went from below his chin to the bridge of his nose. This made his stare all the more deadly, causing me to shrink back into myself, wishing I was invisible.
After an intense staring contest the Asset stalking his way into the bathroom, not sparing me another glance until he returned with a medical kid I noticed hidden in the cabinet on my second day. I yelped as he dropped the kit onto my lap as he began to take off his gear. Only then did I notice the intense bleeding coming from his right side. My eyes widened in horror while he finished his little strip show, leaving him in a white tank top and his trousers. I stood up and tried to back away before he caught my arm, muttering in a deep rough voice “Очисти мою рану” (Clean my wound). I only stared at him confused, not knowing a word of what he just said. The Asset let out a grunt before sitting down in my previous spot on the bed. “Вы русский язык знаете?” (Do you know Russian?) He muttered, followed by “конечно нет. Вы, кажется, невинны, гораздо больше, чем ГИДРА” (Of course not. You seem innocent, much more than HYDRA). He opened the medical kit and grabbed my hand, ignoring my pathetic struggles and put my hand on the equipment before pointing to his bleeding side. I muttered a small ‘Oh’ before realising he wanted me to help his injury. I took out a cleaning wipe and gauze along with a needle, not knowing if he needed stitches I gave him a questioning look which he shook his head ‘no’ to. Hoping that meant I didn’t need to use it, I tentatively lifted up his shirt and began to wipe away the blood. I could tell he was watching me, his calculating eyes made me almost squirm in my uncomfortable, hunt he’d position. After cleaning as best as I could I positioned the gauze over the wound before swiftly standing straight again.
The Asset copied me, standing up and towering above my meek frame. He brushed past me with an unreadable look, grabbing a change of clothes from closet before grabbing the medical kit and returning to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing and the barely audible sound of water indicated he was showering. I retreated back to the far side of the bed, slowly sinking down and attempting to gather my thoughts. ‘What the fuck was that all about?! He didn’t seem to bad though...maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me’. I hummed to myself I’m distraction as the doors latch opened without a word and 2 trays of food where shoved inside, ‘it must be in the evening’. I made my way over and picked both up, placing the Assets good on the desk and I slid down the wall, the furthest side from the bathroom and began to eat in silence.
After a few minutes the sound of running water stopped before the bathroom door opened and to my shock, revealed a naked Adonis of a man with only a towel around his waist. He was soaked, trails of water dripping from his hair down to his chest, oh god his chest! Perfectly ripped abs and a distinctive V line drew my attention while the water made him glisten in the dim lighting. Small scars and cuts were scattered across his chest, my eyes drifted up to the edges of his metal arm. The amount of scar tissues shocked me slightly, and a huge surge of remorse and sadness welled up inside me. The sound of a throat clearing snapped me out of my daze and my eyes snapped up to his, only to be met with a harsh glare. I flinched at the cold stare and blurted out “I wasn’t staring!” ‘Great’ I thought to myself. ‘The first words I speak to a potentially deadly, extremely sexy yet terrifying assassin was a down right, blatant lie’. The asset looked as if he wanted to give me an amused look, but instead opted to hardening his stare.
I shyly looked away from him, his eyes piercing me while I flushed red in a poor attempt to stop my staring. “Come here, маленький котенок” (little kitten). I was shocked to hear him speak English, but then again, HYDRA is a world wide organisations. They must have the best resources, the best of the best fighters, which entitles the knowledge of different languages. I must of gotten side tracked (again) because I heard a grunt of irritation. I shot up off the ground, taking shaking steps until I was a foot away from him. I refused to meet his eyes, not even when he laid a metal hand on my shoulder and applied a small amount of pressure. “On your knees, маленький котенок”. I gulped before slowly kneeling before him, big doe eyes staring up at him below my eyelashes. I knew that if I were to disobey, he could kill me instantly. I could almost see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes while he stared down at me in concentration. His metal hand moved up to cup the right side of my face, his ‘thumb’ tracing over my cheek bone, over my lips before going back up to rest behind the back of my head. I was startled at the sound of a snap before my hair feel from it’s pony tail and it drifted in front of my eyes. Before I could even lift a hand the Asset beat me to it, grabbing my hair in his flesh hand and wrapping it around his wrist, suddenly yanking it back harshly earning him a gasp as I stretched my neck up towards him.
I stared at him with wide eyes as he bent down more towards my level, his face inches away from mine. I felt my face flush pink as his eyes roamed over my face, drinking in my almost submissive position. Apparently he found what he was searching as he sharply stood back up, he let go of my hair and walked around me to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. “Crawl towards me, маленький котенок” he muttered, his voice deep and raspy yet smooth as silk. Embarrassment flooded my veins as I slowly got down on my hands and knees, shuffling towards him until I was before his legs, sitting back on my heels between his legs I was growing more and more humiliated. This man, this practical GOD was ordering me around, so simply making me submit to him. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, yet I could feel the desire growing within me.
Suddenly the towel adorning his waist feel and I let out a squeak of shock before snapping my head to the side so to not look at his manhood. A cool sensation touched my cheek before turning my face back towards him, ignoring the huge distraction in close proximity to my face I stared him in the eyes. I’m no prude or snob, simply inexperienced. But it didn’t take a lot of experience to tell that he was bigger than the average man. In both length and thickness, this man was huge. The mere sight of his manhood sent me into a frenzy.
Bucky’s POV;
I felt a smug smirk stretch across my usually stoic face. This innocent little pet was a spectacular sight. Kneeling before me, to afraid or maybe to scared to look at my crotch. I felt my cock harden at the sight of her big doe eyes staring back at me, her very prominent hardened nipples peaking through the thin layers under her shirt. I almost wanted to laugh, she knew the potion she was in, physically and metaphorically. I had been previously told by my handlers that I would receive a toy, a girl I could do whatever I wished with. I could ruin her or treasure her, they would not care. As long as I don’t kill her then they can use her a leverage to make sure I return from missions and follow orders. Perhaps it would make my life more fun, maybe I could be more human instead of a killing machine. I have no remorse for all my actions, this is my purpose in life. I am told that I’m humanities last Hope. I will do my job as instructed.
I once again grasped her hair but this time turned her head down, forcing her face closer to my hardened member. “маленький котенок, be a good girl and suck” I commanded. There was a flash of horror in her eyes before she began to struggle to escape. She twisted in my hold but I easily overpowered her with my metal hand behind her head and flesh one reaching into my discarded gear and grabbing a plastic tie. I secured her hands behind her back before delivered a swift slap to her cheek with my flesh hand. I did this as a warning, hardly any strength going into the hit but it was enough to scare her to still her movements.
“A-asset please sto-“ I harshly interrupted her by wrapping my flesh hand around her throat roaring “DO NOT call me that! You will address me as sir, and only sir do you understand?!”
Y/N POV;
I let out a whimper of pain before he squeezed my throat even harder, hissing “ I said do you understand?”
“Yes sir! I understand” I all but whispered. He once again motioned me before his rock hard cock, so without much choice I leaned further down and poked out my tongue with a tentacle lick to the tip, taking the angry red dome into my mouth and swirling my tongue around. He let out a low growl before forcing my head deeper, I gagged at the sudden intrusion before licking and sucking as much as I could. Taking him as far as I could, with the little experience I had, I used my knowledge from my friends tales that I should pay extra attention to the slit on the tip. I hollowed out my cheeks as I licked over the slit, tasting his pre-cum. It was an infuriatingly divine taste, salty yet sweet. Bitter yet tangy.
My desire began to peak more as I began to such and lick even harder. I must of been doing well as the asset, or ‘sir’ began to thrust up into my mouth. “That’s it my little pet. Swallow me deep, we will have to work on your skills, it’s obvious your new to this. Doesn’t meen your doing a bad job маленький котенок, quite the opposite. You want me to cum down your throat don’t you? Your such an obedient toy. You deserve a reward.”
His dirty talk in a distinctive Brooklyn accent made me flush and the heat spreading across my body made me moan lowly around his cock. The moan must of tipped him over the edge as his fist tightened on my head, pushing me deeper than before and his huge length made me choke. With a sinful moan his cum shot out to the back of my throat, straight down into my stomach. The delicious taste flooded my mouth and I savoured as much as possible before being lifted back off him. I gasped and tried to catch my erratic breath, cum dripping down my chin as one (metal) hand reaches behind me to snap off the wrist ties and the other drawing almost caring circles on my cheek bone.
After a moment the realisation of what just happened sank him. I sucked an assassins cock, he spoke such filthy words to me. And worse of all, I enjoyed it. “Get to bed”. A simple command sent me going to the bed and slipping under in silence as ‘sir’ stood up and went to the bathroom, I’m assuming to clean up. I turned my back to the bathroom, curling my legs into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I heard him step back one and he lay down behind me. I flinched when I felt his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling my back flush against his front. The only thing covering his modesty is a thin pair of shorts. His legs intertwined with mine, the last thing I heard before submerging into the abyss being “sleep tight little one, I have such plans for you.”
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@darkficsyouneveraskedfor
@brazen88brat
@desdemonadeluna-blog
Im soooo sorry for the wait guys! Iv had an unexpected work load recently along with my friends wanting to meet more than usual. Not used to socialising so much! I hope this made up for it tho! 🖤
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Watford Cove
Chapter 11: fingers walk your thigh
Rating: T
Genre: Fluff/angst
Word count: 1963
Chapter: 11/13 [All chapters]
Summary: It's the night before exam marks are posted. Possibly their last night, so Simon invites Baz over.
Read on AO3
AN: Two chapters in two days?! What?!?!?! Well, school for me starts tomorrow, and this chapter is quite short, so I'm updating super early. And oooooooh spicy summary! But this is still a T rated fic, so don't get too excited lol. Enjoy!
Tagging: @wayward-son-61​ @jeansjeansjeansjeans​
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My hand hurts. I skipped a lot of exams last year and forgot about that part. My muscles are all cramped from being wrapped around a pencil for hours for days on end. I keep stretching it out in hopes the pain goes away. No such luck. My brain hurts too. It feels like I puked all knowledge onto those pages and now my thoughts are empty. I just feel so exhausted. I can't even force myself to get off my bed to change out of my jeans and jacket.
Exam marks are posted tomorrow. I’ll know if I get to stay tomorrow. Stay in Watford Cove, with my friends, with Simon. If I was the dramatic sort of person, which I’m not of course, I’d say tomorrow is judgement day.
I can only hope I’m worthy.
My phone buzzes next to me. With far more effort than usually needed, I reach over and hold it over my face.
Pretty Moron [7:25] heyyyyy <3 <3
Pretty Moron [7:25] how’s it going?
Baz [7:26] My hand fucking hurts.
Pretty Moron [7:27] lol well exams will do that
Pretty Moron [7:27] what r u doing rn?
Baz [7:28] Texting you, idiot.
Pretty Moron [7:29] fuck off dick
Pretty Moron [7:30] i meant if ur busy
Baz [7:31] No, not really. Just tired.
Pretty Moron [7:32] okay
Pretty Moron [7:33] my gran’s out playing cards all night
Pretty Moron [7:35] wanna come over?
Pretty Moron [7:36] only if ur not 2 tired tho
Pretty Moron [7:36] but u could come over
Pretty Moron [7:38] and stay the night
Pretty Moron [7:38] if u want
I nearly drop my phone many times reading that. Okay, this may be crazy, but I cannot be misinterpreting what he means. It's pretty obvious, right? But he's also Simon, so he's sometimes quite oblivious. If this were some TV show, I’d know exactly what that meant. There'd be zero doubt in my mind. But this is real life. Do people really do this? Would Simon? He is very bold sometimes, that's for sure. Is he this bold? Fucking hell, am I?
Tomorrow is judgement day after all. So...tonight could be my last chance for a long while. Our last chance.
Baz [7:43] I’ll be over there in half an hour
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This time, it takes only two pebbles to get Simon to open the window. I wonder if he was waiting for me this time. He gives me a tired, exasperated smile.
“I told you,” he semi-shouts down, “my Gran’s not home. You could’ve just rung the bell.”
I shrug. “This is more fun.”
Simon rolls his eyes as I run up to the trellis. It’s much harder climbing up it with the plastic shopping bag. I manage though, swinging my legs up onto the porch roof and crawling to Simon’s window. He gives me a hand getting in, then wraps his arms around my neck, smiling all the way to his ears as he gazes at me.
“You came,” he sighs.
“I said I would, didn’t I?” I reply, holding his torso close.
“Still, I’m glad you did. I-I wasn’t sure you would, really.”
I sigh, running my fingers over his back. “Well, I debated it a bit. But this may be our last night, Simon. And...I really don’t want to leave without doing this, with you that is.”
His face goes bright red instantly, eyes incredibly wide. Shit, I’ve fucked up. That’s not what he meant. I'm just a horny idiot. I’m going to leave and die from embarrassment.
“Sorry,” I murmur, pulling away. “I’ll just go.”
“No no!” Simon shakes his head rapidly, arms tightening on my neck. “No, don’t go, Baz. I-I want to as well. You just caught me off guard for a sec, sorry.”
I chuckle at that, I can’t help it. Simon looks at me funny. I just pull him closer. “You get all blushy and nervous when I flirt with you, but also snog me like it’s the end the world in a gym closet. You are just, a living contradiction, Simon Salisbury.” He still looks at me confused. “And I like that, a lot.”
Now he grins again, bright and brilliant. “Okay, good to know.”
We giggle like stupid school boys, pressing our foreheads together. He kisses me once, then twice, then a third time for good measure I suppose. But suddenly, he pulls back and lifts up my arm, the one holding the shopping bag, with a furrowed brow.
“What’s this?”
I chuckle. “Well, I assumed that you wouldn’t have supplies, so I picked some up.”
That makes his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Supplies?”
“Yes, Simon, supplies. I wasn't sure what we'd end up doing but I wanted to be prepared for anything. You would not believe the looks I got from the old lady cashier though, my god.”
Simon laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Oh man, I can believe that. Sorry you had to do that, love.”
I shrug with a smirk. “It was worth it.”
His face softens. “Thank you, darling.”
We fall into silence and just stare at each other. Fuck, where do we go from here? I’ve never thought about this. Well, I’ve thought about after this, what happens when we start doing "it", but not how we get there. From Simon’s lip chewing and nervous twiddling, he has no idea either.
“You sure you want to do this, Simon?” I whisper.
He nods slowly. “Yeah, yeah I do. I’m just...”
“Nervous?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“Hey.” I tilt his chin up so we’re eye to eye. I need him to be reassured, and I love looking in his eyes anyway. “It’s alright. I am too.”
He's surprisingly shocked at that. “Really?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve never done anything like this before. You’re my first boyfriend, first kiss, first anything, Simon.”
His jaw falls open. I can’t believe how shocked he is. “Seriously? I was your first kiss?”
I roll my eyes, trying to offset my nerves. “Yes, I just said that.”
“Wow.”
“What, do I seem like someone who’s super experienced?”
“Oh, uh, well, I um, I...” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “I guess, I uh, you’re really smart and confident and I just assumed you knew more about this shit than me. Since you know more about most things.”
I snort out a laugh. Simon turns more red, so I put down the shopping bag on his bed then grab his wrist and tug him closer. He lets himself fall against me.
“Well,” I sigh, “I guess we’ll just have figure it out together.”
He gives me a lopsided smile. It's relaxed and happy, and just fucking perfect. “Yeah, I guess so.” He chuckles slightly and shakes his head. “Oh man, having sex the night before you might leave forever. What is this, a teen romance novel?”
I chuckle. “It honestly feels like it sometimes.”
Simon and I both laugh, but it’s quickly followed by silence. We just stare at each other for awhile. Bright blue gazing into grey and vice versa. I sure as shit don’t know where to go, and neither does he obviously. Simon leans up to kiss me. But fucking Hell, I’m still not relaxed, and neither is he. I can feel the nervousness in both of us. His shaking hands, his tense face, the stiff movement of his mouth. Everything about him spells ‘uneasy.’ I’m about to pull away to ask him, but he does so first.
“Wait,” he says breathlessly. “Let’s do something.”
He pulls me over to his nightstand and picks up his mobile. A few taps later, a soft tune starts playing. It’s all violins and piano chords. I recognize the singer as that Sivan bloke Simon loves.
“What’s this?” I ask.
Simon walks back over to me and drapes his arms lazily over my shoulders. They're a comfortable weight on my tense muscles. “Dance with me.”
I give him a confused, curious look, but he doesn’t say anything to further justify it. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. We’re both about to jump out of our skins, Baz. So let’s not think for a bit and just dance.”
“Not thinking? That’s your solution?”
He shrugs. “Helps me. And it’s only for a bit. Just turn off that big brain for a sec and dance with me, Baz. Alright?”
I twist my mouth for a moment, but then I just sigh and hold his waist. “Alright, let’s dance.”
Simon smiles. He lets his head fall into the crook of my neck. I rest my cheek on his temple. We sway incredibly slowly back and forth, like waves calmly lapping at the shore. The only sounds that fill the room are our soft breathing and Troye’s melodious voice. I listen to the lyrics.
I want you I'll colour me blue Anything it takes to make you stay Only seeing myself When I'm looking up at you
“This song is depressing as shit, Simon,” I whisper right into his ear.
“Shut up, Basil,” he grumbles. I chuckle and hold him tighter.
The song keeps going, we keep swaying, and bit by bit, I can feel the tension seeping out of me. Like a weight slowly being lifted off my shoulders. This isn’t scary. This is just Simon. Who wears pink sweaters and flower crowns, who painted my nails, who knows me better than anyone by now, who makes me happy, who I’m most certainly falling in love with. Yes, I can do this. At least I can do this with him.
Troye ends and the playlist moves on to something else. Simon pulls back to face me. His eyes are half lidded, his lips slightly open, all while bathed in his golden lamplight. Christ on a cross, I want to kiss him so badly. Well, I want to kiss him all the time, but especially right now, when he looks like something out of a dream. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches over and turns off the phone. All that’s left is our breathing, slow and steady.
“Okay now?” he speaks softly.
I take a deep breath and nod once. “Yeah, okay.”
He nods too, then reaches over to turn off the lamp. Silver moonlight bleeds in through his window. He looks ethereal in it, a glowing silver halo around his gold tones. Stretching up a bit, Simon kisses me softly, but it’s not tentative anymore. It’s languid, relaxed, like we have all the time in the world. I kiss him back in the same way. I feel Simon’s hands move across my neck, callused fingers scratching against my skin, then over my shoulders and under my jacket. Slowly, like a question, he starts pushing it down. I straighten my arms in answer, and it falls to the ground.
Being a total control freak, I rarely let anyone “do” anything to me, really. I always initiate. I’m always in command. I accept no less.
But not with Simon.
I let Simon do so much to me. Let him kiss me, let him undress me, let him pull me apart and put me back together in the strangest, most beautiful ways possible. There are some awkward moments, of course. They're unavoidable with our lack of knowledge. But we simply laugh them off or quickly apologize. Those moments are brief though. And all of it is overshadowed by sheer wonder of it all. That this is really happening. That we’re doing this. And it's incredible. I allow Simon to see every last part of me, and he lets me see every last part of him.
No guarding, no nerves. Just us.
———————————————-
AN: As it has already been established, I'm a cheesy motherfucker. And this practically is a teen romance book so I'm just embracing how tropey it is. Hope you guys liked it. Next time: judgement day, and the morning after :D
Chapter title is from "Too Good" by Troye Sivan
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otak-me · 7 years
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CONSTELLATIONS CHAPTER 4: AQUARIUS
CONSTELLATIONS INDEX
CHAPTER 3: APUS
THE SOUND OF RAIN was echoing throughout the house, the pleasant scent of wet pine needles staining the corridors.
Large droplets of water cascaded down the windows in glimmering streaks of grey, reflecting the light and casting shadows on the furniture within the forest cottage.
In the fireplace dancing orange flames sat, eating away at the chunks of dead wood, warming the room considerably, and casting a yellow hue on the man who laid asleep on the couch.
Green eyes not unlike emeralds cracked open sleepily, the cause of such a stir being a loud POP from the embers that danced with the flames within the fireplace.
A short, shuddering breath outwards drew the man’s mind to wake, his chest aching with the exhalation of air. His emerald green eyes suddenly shot widely open, darting around to gaze at the room in alarm.
This was not a familiar sight at all, and he does not remember ever moving from his place by the tree.
He cursed in his mind.
He had fallen asleep at the base of the tree.
If that was so, then where the Hel was he?
Attempting to sit up, his body screamed in protest, pain lining every fibre of his being. He hell back on his elbows, his shoulders creaking in agony.
“Ah, I see Mr. I Fall Asleep In The Middle Of The Night, Outside In The Freezing Cold has awoken. Did you sleep well?”
The velvety voice caused the man to snap his head to face the source of the sound, a shrieking pain tearing up his neck, to the centre of his head.
His eyes slammed closed, preventing any tears from escaping his eyes, and the person that the voice belonged to walked into his line of sight, looking down on his pain stricken face. Her facial features contorted into an expression of concern, her eyebrows knitting together and rising on her forehead.
The man’s eyes cracked open after a moment of deep breathing, and he surveyed the woman that was standing in front of him’s features.
Her skin was a pale, almost grey colour, the exceptions being her rosy lips and pink fingertips.
She was donned in loose-fitting garments, the knitted wear hanging from her petite frame, and losing her form.
She was wearing tight-fitted black pants, and was barefoot.
Her toes were tinged the same pink as her fingertips.
Her eyes were a startling silver, framed by thick, dark lashes.
Her hair contradicted her visible age, surprisingly grey in value, with a silver sheen that reflected in the light. It was tied up into a messy bun at the top of her head, locks falling out here and there.
The man’s emerald eyes narrowed, “Where am I?”, completely ignoring the question that the woman had posed to him.
The pale woman’s face relaxed, and fell into a deadpan. Leaning back onto her left foot -some hair falling out of the bun- and crossing her arms, the woman licked her lips, “My loungeroom.”
The man growled, “Which realm?” He spat out, gritting his teeth and flexing his jaw in irritation, his eyebrows knitting together frustratedly.
The woman’s head cocked to the side slightly, the light streaming in from the window catching her silver irises, giving them a glowing look, her face softening slightly in curiosity. His eyes scanned her pale skin for a moment, then flashed back to her eyes, growling under his breath when she didn’t reply immediately, “TELL ME!”
The woman’s lips contorted into a tiny smirk, “Tonantzin, Pachamama, Hou Tu, Erda, Terra Mater, Bhuma, Dìqiú, jörðin, υφήλιος, Talamh, Miðgarðr, Earth.” She twitched her fingers on her arm in a wave formation, her face twitching in amusement, “Although I may verbalise many more forms for it if you so wish.”
The man’s face dropped into a slightly dumbfounded, slightly horrified expression, his eyes widened, face slack, “Miðgarðr.” He breathed out in astonishment, his eyes glazing over, no longer looking at the woman standing in front of him, “Miðgarðr of all places.” His mind wandered to his last time on Miðgarðr, and how terribly it had affected him for the future to come.
Breaking from his straying thoughts, he looked back at the woman who stood above him, and hissed, “Why are you smiling, mortal?” The woman’s smirk twitched a tad higher, and her eyelids drooped in amusement, “Miðgarðr, eh? It’s not often that you meet someone more familiar with the term than Earth.” The woman leaned forward, leering over the man slightly intimidatingly, making him visibly tense,
“Which realm are you from, sir?”
The man’s slightly frizzy hair shifted as she breathed the last word over his face heavily.
His eyes narrowed in anger, blazing in fury.
How dare this puny mortal stand above him with such a smug expression?! Trust, she did not know of his identity or social standing, and his body was in such a vulnerable state, but did she not at least feel a little bit intimidated by his tone of voice?
He calmed himself, he would not be angered by her. He was better than to disrespect a woman in such a way, even if she was but a mere mortal.
Calming his heart rate, and softening his features, he tilted his chin up, looking down his nose at her in an authoritative way, “I am Loki of Asgarðr, and you will respect me, mortal woman."
The woman's eyebrows slowly lifted on her forehead, and she stepped away, her facial features contorting into a visage of surprise.
After a few moments of her scanning him up and down, she met his eyes again, her head tilting slightly to the left, “…Then that would make you a god, would it not?”
A narcissistic smirk lilted onto his lips, “Indeed, mortal. I am a God. So, therefore, I am of higher status than you, and you must bend to my will.” His face slightly mirrored the glee that bubbled within his chest.
Yes! He would finally be able to be of higher social status-
His thoughts were cut off by the woman staring at him with a disinterested expression, “In Asgarðr you may have been classified as a Prince, but be reminded of where you are currently resting. I am the owner and ruler of this estate, and if you think that you hold any authority what so ever whilst housing here, you are going to be sorely disappointed.”
The green eyes of the man narrowed in contempt, returning his irritated sneer to his features, “Now listen here, mortal woman-”
But the woman cut his impending speech off, “No, you listen here, your highness. I am the one who brought you to safety. I am the one who provided you with a dry, warm residence. I am the one who protected you, the person who attempted to steal the world to rule no more than a year ago, from TWO packs of wolves that so easily could have torn you apart whilst you were asleep against that tree,”
The man’s face contorted into a slightly confused expression, but the woman continued, “So I do believe that you owe me at least some respect, because if I had not carried you back here, then you would either be dead, or worse. Now, are you hungry?"
Her tone did not shift from scolding, which made Loki have to do a double take.
Stammering slightly he replied, taken off guard by her sudden change of conversation topic, "U-uh, yes. I am famished."
The woman nodded sharply, then turned and walked to the kitchen, "Good," she called from the room connected to the lounge, "Because I was just in the middle of making a double batch of pancakes."
Quiet sizzling could be heard from the kitchen, and now that his other senses had been awoken, he could smell the delicious waft of frying batter that emanated from the kitchen. His stomach gurgled loudly in enthusiasm to the mouth-watering scent off the sweet breakfast food, and his eyes closed in reply to the pain that ached from his stomach.
A few minutes later, the woman’s figure approached him with a tray of food. A white plate sat in the centre, a pile of five pancakes on it.
Beside the pancakes were a set of shiny silver cutlery, and along them laid three small cups of what looked to be different fruit juices. On the left were eight small bowls of various toppings, the contents of each bowl being: Butter, Lemon juice, Nutella, Sliced strawberries, blueberries and raspberries, raspberry jam, maple syrup, and a scoop of icecream.
The woman placed the tray down on the coffee table in the centre of the room, and approached the man, bending over and moving to slip a hand behind his back.
Loki’s body tensed up, and he hissed, swatting her hand away, “What do you think you’re doing!?” His voice raised into a yell, causing her to roll her eyes at his dramatics.
She licked her lips subconsciously, “I’m helping you sit up.” His eyes narrowed into a sneer, “I can sit up by myself, woman.”
Said woman’s face fell slack, completely disbelieving his statement, “Please. Spare me your lies, Loki. Your pain is more than debilitating. You are barely able to lay as you are without breathing causing you pain.”
His eyebrows twitched at her knowing what she did, and she continued, “Let me help you.”
He begrudgingly obliged to her wishes, and allowed her to slip her arm behind his back, her fingertips dancing lightly across his side, causing unsettling goosebumps to raise on his flesh underneath the shirt. Hoisting him up softly, yet swiftly, a surprisingly easy task for her thin arms to achieve.
His torso became straight as he groaned softly at the movement, his legs bending to accommodate for his position unhappily.
Once Loki was in a satisfactory position, the woman slid her arm out from behind him, and walked back over to the tray on the coffee table, picking it up carefully, as to not spill any of the liquids, and brought it over the main sitting on the couch. She bent over evenly, softly kneeling, laying the tray on the lap of the man.
Pointing to each of the toppings she explained, “Each of these go on top of the pancakes. Those,” She pointed to the juices, “Are fruit juices. Tell me if you want more of them, because I have three large jugs of them in the fridge.”
She then stood up, and smiled softly, “Hopefully this quells the pain in your stomach.”
The black-haired man nodded his head shortly, not really knowing what to say in reply.
CHAPTER 5: AQUILA
Word count: 1785
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Divided We Fall (OUAT - Peter Pan x Reader) Part 4
Requested by @ajakral
Synopsis: Who said there were no girls on Neverland? Who said Peter Pan ruled over this world on his own? On the other side of the island, far from the mermaid lagoon, the echo cave and the skull rock – that’s where (Y/N) and her girls lived. Because behind every great man there is an even greater woman, what would the king be without his queen?
A/N: Doesn’t star any OUAT characters apart from Pan, Felix and Wendy.
Word count: 2.4k
Part 3 <<< >>> Part 5
MASTERLIST
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“Up and in line everyone!” (Y/N) ordered and her girls stood in the usual order within seconds, dropping everything they were doing. In a single swift motion, she threw a thick wooden stick to one of the younger girls who fumbled a bit before catching it, out of surprise.
“You can't hesitate, if someone else than me throws something else at you, you need to catch it,” she said and paced in front of the girls. When she reached the same girl again, (Y/N) threw her elbow at her, aiming for the face but this time she caught it before it hit her. “Better,” (Y/N) congratulated her with a smirk.
It was still raining, they had just eaten a good meal, it was the exact opposite of what you called good fighting conditions. Perfect.
“These are the worst conditions you can find yourself in during a fight,” (Y/N) continued. “Pair up!”
In a common movement, all the Lost Girls moved to face up their partner. They paired up with girls of the same strength – (Y/N) shook her head.
“No, not like that. Mingle with the stronger ones, challenge yourself because there is no honor in winning against someone you know you can defeat.”
They changed partners and shared confused looks as they did so.
“Fight, and I want to see you use the elements to your advantage. It's raining, it's muddy, the sounds of nature cover anything else, use it.”
As soon as the words crossed her lips, the girls executed her orders. The smaller, weaker ones attacked first because that's what (Y/N) taught them to do – to strike before their adversary gets a chance to hit them. If you're smaller, it means you're faster. If you're bigger then you can knock your enemy out faster. Sybil and her cunning ways was the first to dive to the ground and swing her leg around to sweep the other girl off her feet and make her slip in the mud.
“Good Sybil! Everyone look at that! That's what I'm talking about. Don't be afraid to play dirty literally and figuratively, Neverland isn't a playground and next time a bunch of Lost Boys come here, I want you to make them eat the ground.”
She made the girls fight and fight and fight again, keeping up the rhythm until they were wetter from sweat than rain. They panted, covered in mud and blood, pointlessly trying to rub away the dirt with the back of their equally dirty hands while dodging blow after blow.
“What the hell is wrong with her?!” Sybil groaned in between a couple punches.
She ducked forward when Dorothy leaped toward her and tried to hit her shoulder. Sybil hurt her shoulder last month, everyone knew that. But it was fair game, she didn't hold grudge against her sister. It was a weakness and she exploited it, like (Y/N) had instructed.
“Shut up or you'll be on watch duty for the next two centuries,” Dorothy replied and attacked again. Her hair kept flying in her eyes and the rain made it stick to her forehead and momentarily blinded her.
“What is it with her today?! Why is she such a pain in the-”
“Sybil?” (Y/N) interrupted the girls' fight and grabbed the poor Sybil's arm. “Got something to say?”
“Yes!” She snapped, letting her emotions take precedence over her head and stepping closer to her leader instead of backing down like a wise person would have. “What's going on? Why are you venting on us? What's the deal with you today?!”
“My deal-” (Y/N) began, talking between her teeth and tightening her grip on Sybil who winced in pain. “-is my business. You stay quiet and do as I say, or you can run off into the jungle and throw your little pity party there. If you interrupt training once more, I'll personally see to your punishment.”
Sybil turned a few shades whiter and her pupils lost in size. Fear sizzled in the air as rain showered them.
“No dinner for you tonight. You're on first watch. Dorothy-” (Y/N) said and the girl's eyes moved from her friend to her leader. “-You pair up with Tina and teach her the basics again, she still can't throw a proper kick.”
She didn't say a word but moved over to where the young blond girl called Tina stood, with her arm hanging each side of her body, trembling in fear. The partner was already walking towards Sybil to face her new adversary.
“Congratulations everyone, you get two more hours of training and you can thank Sybil for that. I'm leaving but don't think for a second that I won't know it if you stop before I say it's over.” (Y/N) clapped her hands – the signal for the Lost Girls to resume their fighting. “If you're not too sore to move tomorrow, it means you did it wrong.”
*
“If every muscle in your body doesn't scream for you to stop then you haven't given it all yet,” Pan philosophized while circling around the heavy breathing girl at his feet. “Do better or die out there.”
“What's out there?” (Y/N) asked before rubbing the blood away from her split lip.
It didn't stop the bleeding though, and bruises were already forming here and there all over her body. She simply couldn't do it – what he asked of her was too much.
“Why, the world of course!” Pan said with a smirk. “If you're not tougher than the world, it'll kill you, don't you know?” He knelt down to be at eye level with (Y/N) and she had to refrain from spitting in his face. “Get on your feet little lamb, or the big bad wolf will get you.”
“Who's the big bad wolf in this dumb metaphor?” (Y/N) scoffed in disdain, blood dripping from her nose as she slowly stood up, along with Peter. “You?!” There was so much scorn in her voice that she couldn't even blame Pan for the following blow.
Her feet left the ground and (Y/N) immediately raised her hands before her face to protect herself and closed her eyes, ready to take the blow, get the air knocked out of her and to receive another bruise in some painful place. But it never came. (Y/N)'s jaw was still clenched in fear and anticipation when she dared open one eye to see what was happening and the only thing she saw was that Pan wasn't there anymore. Or rather, she wasn't with Pan anymore.
Not a second ago she was surrounded by trees and now she stood on the edge of a cliff by the sea. Neversea was a forbidden place – no Lost Boy was allowed to get in the dark waters. Most of the island was surrounded by sharp rocks anyway, there was only one sand beach, the rest of Neverland was as hostile as one would expect.
A series of sharp edged rocks led the way to the water several meters below. Despite the seemingly deadly territory she was in, the call of the void was strong. Tempting. It was mesmerizing, it sang to her and (Y/N) stepped forward against her best judgment.
“Hello?!” (Y/N) screamed out. Her voice echoed against the rocks but no one answered. “Where the hell am I now?” She wondered out loud.
There was still no answer but this time around she heard voices. She couldn't make out what they were saying but she wanted, needed to know and it somehow made her take another step towards the edge. The sound of the waves hitting the bottom the the cliff was loud and regular, it lulled her and covered the voices she tried to hard to decipher. Her feet moved as though thy had a will of their own. It felt a little wrong, (Y/N) wanted to fight against this invisible force that compelled her to move but this urge didn't take precedence over the need to find the source of the chants.
Where did it come from? Who was singing so beautifully? Whose void pierced through the mist of the sea? It was pure madness but her raised foot hovered over the void – there was no more ground to put her foot on but she couldn't stop moving forward, the wind pushed her from the back and the voices pulled her toward the sea.
“What are you doing, you foolish girl?!” A voice exclaimed from behind her, snapping (Y/N) out of her reverie.
She felt a tight grip on her upper arm and was abruptly pulled back on the land, away from an imminent death. It was like being ripped out of a stupidly vivid dream too fast and waking up feeling dizzy and lost.
“Pan?” (Y/N) asked confusedly. “Did you hear this?”
“Of course I did, everyone does. Don't listen to them, they'll lure you to a certain and painful death.”
This at least made her come back to her senses.
“What the hell was that? Get your hands off of me!”
“I just saved your life, I would advise you show a little gratefulness,” Peter scoffed and released her once he had dragged her far enough from the sea and its mysterious call. “It's not my touch that you should fear but the sirens. If they got their hands on you, you'd be a goner.”
“I'd rather throw myself off this cliff and get eaten by magical creatures than have your filthy hands touch me – and I already told you multiple times that I'm not scared of you.”
Peter dropped his hand and looked at her more intently, making her feel as though he was seeing right through her instead of at her. (Y/N) shivered of disgust and repressed the urge to rub away the feeling of his touch on her skin. He didn't believe her, that much was obvious, but she wouldn't contradict him again. If he wanted to underestimate her then so be it.
“You disappeared, well done,” he eventually congratulated her as though she accomplished some extraordinary deed.
It must have been pretty fantastic since he barely acknowledged her perseverance - if not skill - during their training sessions but suddenly complimented her.
“I didn't do it on purpose,” she said, chin still raised high. There was no point in trying to pass it as talent, she did it on accident and wouldn't be able to do it again if he asked her. “Where are we?”
“The mermaid lagoon,” he scoffed in a way that suggested that he hated this place. “Don't let the pretty name fool you, it's the most hellish part of this entire island. Mermaids will lure you to a certain death if you let your guard down for so much as a second.”
“While you're all rainbows and butterflies and do not threaten my life at all,” (Y/N) snickered sarcastically, earning a stern glare.
She expected Peter to physically punish her for this bold comment, to suspend her in the air, tackle her to the ground, or magically strangle her but he did none of it and simply turned around - trusting she would follow him and not be stupid enough to take a chance on the lagoon. It was a tough choice for her nonetheless and (Y/N) seriously considered running in any other direction than the one Peter was. Thoughts ran wild in her head for a second, but she just literally vanished in thin air before his eyes and he still managed to find her, so how could she even hope to escape by foot?
“Move!” He barked at her form a fair distance. “Training's far from being over, I see you still have some fight in you so you go back at it until you're too tired to insult me.”
(Y/N) thought that she'd have to be dead for that to happen, but she still obliged and silently followed his steps through the thick greenery of Neverland.
*
At the end of the day, Peter couldn't simply isolate himself from his Lost Boys endlessly and he had to return to camp after a few more hours of sulking at his thinking tree. Even he couldn't call it anything but sulking. Denying this to himself was pointless and he was in his damn right to act like a child if he wanted to – he was the ultimate forever child, who could blame him for acting like one?
“Shadow,” Peter called from the top branch of his tree, high enough to give him a view of the creek and Skull Rock.
It appeared almost right away, as though it constantly lurked in the dark, waiting for its master to whistle. For this alone Peter despised it but he couldn't deny how useful it was. It complete missions like no Lost Boy ever did. The only person who ever came close to this was (Y/N) – that is, until she turned against Peter. Felix could rot in his tree for all Peter cared, he was a poor second in command most of the time, but still the most capable of the Boys. It really spoke volumes about the state of Pan's little army. Pitiful.
The Shadow floats in the air before Peter, blocking his view and waiting orders like the perfect silent soldier. Peter often thought that if the Shadow could talk it would quickly go from his favorite to least favorite minion.
“What's she doing?” He asked in a flat voice – he didn't know why he felt so compelled to fake detachment when he spoke to the Shadow, but he did it. All the time. There was no other way he knew of to deal with the jumble of emotions he felt.
The Shadow shook its faceless head in defeat. Peter had grown to learn how to interpret the Shadow's body language. The Lost Girls' camp was sizzling with tension today, probably like his own camp. (Y/N) was a mess of wild emotions she refused to deal with, and she let out the steam by giving the rough side of the hand to her girls. He sighed deeply. As soon as he raised a hand toward the sky and flicked his wrist, the rain stopped. Peter rarely changed the weather the way he just did, but he knew that (Y/N)'s mood wouldn't improve as long as the storm went on.
“You won't be giving her the usual flower, today I need you to do something else for me...”
A/N: I know I take fucking forever to update, thanks for bearing with me y’all, you’re the best!
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momscookingthebooks · 7 years
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Blog Tour - Book Review – Excerpt
Rock Solid, an all-new sexy and romantic standalone by Carly Phillips & Erika Wilde is available NOW!!
Book Review
Title:  Rock Solid
Series: Book Boyfriend #4
Author: Carly Phillips and Erika Wilde
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publication Date:  November 14, 2017
Cliff Hanger: No
4 Stars
*This story is for mature audiences only. Contains explicit scenes and language intended for adults 18+
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Synopsis:
Connor Prescott doesn't do one night stands (yes, ladies, he's an anomaly) so when he meets a beautiful woman during a snowed in night at the airport who wants to forget her heartache, he makes an exception. Their night together is incendiary, and by morning Connor wants more . . . except his sexy stranger is gone. He's pretty sure he'll never see her again, until three and a half years later she finds him, and changes his entire world with three little words . . . You're a daddy.
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My Thoughts:
This is a fast paced second chance romance and surprise pregnancy story. Connor and Katie are both from Chicago and meet at the airport in Denver; they are both there for different reasons. Katie was there to surprise her boyfriend for Valentine’s Day, only she was the one to be surprised when he was in his hotel room with another woman. Heartbroken, she returns to the airport to head home. She is stuck at the airport because of an impending blizzard. What else could go wrong?
Connor sees this beautiful but sad woman at his gate. He wonders what her story is. Katie also notices the gorgeous man at the gate. When Katie makes eye contact, they both feel that electric pulse of attraction. Katie decides to leave the charged atmosphere because the last thing she needs is a rebound.
Connor realizes he has to make arrangements at a hotel before they are all gone due to the blizzard. He gets the last two-bedroom suite, and why not, it’s on the company’s dime. As he is heading to his hotel connected to the airport, he notices the beautiful woman in a café and asks to join her. After they get to know each other, he offers the other bedroom in his suite and she reluctantly accepts.
Once settled in for the night, the attraction ramps up and Katie throws all caution to the wind. Why not enjoy the company of this handsome man? Connor goes against his no one night stand rule, and they have an amazing night of passion. Katie is scared because of the feelings she has for Connor in such a short time. Connor is smitten with Katie and he wants to explore what they have, only to be disappointed that she left during the night. No note, no phone number, and no last names. Only thing left were memories of an amazing night.
Fast forward 3 years and Katie reads an article about Connor in a local magazine. He is touted as a talented real estate developer and eligible Chicago bachelor. Katie wants to contact him to tell him that their incredible night in Denver conceived a beautiful little girl named Valentine (Val). How would he react? When Katie found out she was pregnant she wanted to find Connor, but she had nothing to go on until she saw the magazine article. She contacts Connor and sets up a meeting.  That’s where I’m going to leave it! I will leave it up to the reader to enjoy the story of Katie, Connor and Val.
This book was sweet, sexy, funny and swoon worthy. Connor was amazing! Katie was sweet and was an amazing mom, however she had trust issues that go back to her childhood. Connor had to prove to Katie that he was a rock solid guy and could be a father and family man. I loved this story and I plan to go back and read the previous books in this series.
ARC kindly provided by Social Butterfly PR for an honest review.
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Excerpt:
        Connor scrolled through the list of movies on pay-per-view for the tenth time, not sure what Katie might be in the mood for.  He'd raided the mini bar as promised, and all the junk food loot was on the coffee table awaiting their impromptu slumber party.  He was just waiting, albeit impatiently, to find out if Katie was going to join him or not.  After her emotionally draining day, he wasn't sure she was going to be up to hanging out, and as much as he'd understand that decision, the thought mostly disappointed him.
            When he heard the door to her bedroom open, a flood of relief coursed through him.  "So, what are you in the mood for?" he asked, anxious for her to join him and hoping that she sat on the same sofa as he did instead of the single chair opposite the couch—Jesus, what was he, fourteen?  "We've got our choice between a romantic comedy, action adventure, or a horror flick."
            "None of those," she said, her voice soft and husky as she approached from his peripheral vision.  "The only thing I'm in the mood for is . . . you."
            Certain that he'd heard Katie wrong, he turned his head to glance at her.  His jaw dropped open in shock as he stared at the stunning, erotic vision standing a few feet away from him, dressed in a sinful red ensemble that screamed fuck me, please.  Unsure as to what was going on—was he being cruelly punked right now?—his entire body went rigid, including his dick, as he desperately tried to clear the lust that was quickly fogging his brain.
            He managed to close his mouth, but that only made his jaw clench achingly tight as he fought off the urge to do something stupid, like push her down to the couch and give free rein to the attraction they'd both been skirting.  Jesus, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her and the see-through lingerie that exposed more than it covered, teasing him mercilessly.  The sheer underwire cups pushed her generous breasts up like an offering, barely containing all that mouthwatering fullness, and her tight, rosy nipples pushed against the thin, lacy fabric.  The skirt of the short gown draped over her midsection like a veil, sheer enough for him to see the indentation of her waist and flare of her hips, and a pair of tiny red matching panties he wanted to tear off of her with his teeth.
            He swore beneath his breath, and when she made a soft, uncertain noise in the back of her throat, he jerked his gaze back up to hers.  He caught a quick glimpse of apprehension shimmering in those big brown eyes, which contradicted the bold, brazen woman currently standing in front of him.
            "Maybe this was a really stupid idea," she said in a voice that cracked with a wealth of doubts, right before she turned back around and rushed toward her bedroom in a blur of red material that swirled around her waist and thighs.
            Realizing that she believed his hesitation was because he didn't want her, Connor jumped to his feet and reached Katie before she made it halfway across the living room.  He caught her around the waist with a strong arm and hauled her up against his body, her back to his front—and quickly realized what a huge mistake that was.
            She valiantly struggled to break free of his hold, the curve of her delectable ass shifting and wriggling against the thick length of his cock already straining the zipper of his jeans.  He gritted his teeth at the onslaught of lust racing through his blood, threatening to eradicate his self-control and any rational decisions he needed to make.  And the situation definitely called for him to remain level-headed so he could think with his brain and not his unruly dick.      
            She tried to push away his arm one last time, but when it didn't budge, she made a frustrated sound.  "Just let me go, Connor," she said, her voice defeated and so damn vulnerable.  "Please."
            He wasn't releasing her until he knew she was okay.  "Katie—"
            "Don't make this any worse than it already is," she said, cutting him off, her entire body still unyielding against his. "I must have misread your interest, and I don’t think I can handle getting rejected twice in one day."
            Aww, fuck.  The very last thing he felt for her was disinterest, but he didn't want to take advantage of her or the situation, either.  He released her and turned Katie so that she was facing him, hating the wariness in her gaze.  She looked like she was going to bolt again, and he wasn't about to let that happen until they got a few things straight.  With his hands gripping her hips so she couldn't go anywhere, at least not easily, he backed her up a few steps, until she was trapped between him and the wall.
            The impulse to run his hands up the indentation of her waist to the breasts nearly spilling out of her flimsy top was so strong and so distracting he had to place his palms safely on the wall on either side of her shoulders.  She tipped her head back to look up at him, and he nearly smiled when he saw the earlier doubts that had been clouding her gaze were now replaced with a stubborn attitude that turned him on way too much.
            "First of all, you didn't misread anything," he told her. "You surprised the fuck out of me, because I didn't expect you to come out of your room looking like a goddamn sex kitten.  And secondly, I'm not rejecting you personally."
            Her chin lifted obstinately.  "Just what I'm offering?"
            The corner of his mouth quirked at the impudent tone of her voice, and before he could think better of it, he touched one of the soft, blonde strands of hair that fell to the swell of her breasts. He rubbed the silky texture between his fingers, immediately imagining how it would feel to have his entire hand wrapped around the length.  Tugging. Pulling.  Her gasping.  Moaning. Begging.
            The heady images in his head fueled his growing hunger for her.  "What, exactly, are you offering, Valentine?" he murmured, knowing he was torturing himself but beyond caring any longer.
            She rolled her eyes at him.  "Isn't it obvious?"
            He watched as her tongue dampened her bottom lip, spurring more dirty thoughts to fill his head.  "Tell me," he said, the words a gentle demand. "Just so it's clear for both of us."
            She hesitated for a moment, as if gathering up the nerve, then spoke.  "Remember that fantasy I told you about earlier?  The sex-with-a-stranger-in-a-hotel-room fantasy?"
            How could he forget something like that? "Yes."
            She exhaled a breath.  "That's all I want.  No last names.  No personal information.  Just a night of hot, mindless sex."
            Yeah, that sounded damn good, except he was already coming to want so much more than that with her.  
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Meet the Authors!
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Meet Carly Phillips:
Carly Phillips is the N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of over 50 sexy contemporary romance novels, including the Indie published, Dare to Love Series. She is happily married to her college sweetheart, the mother of two nearly adult daughters and three crazy dogs. Carly loves social media and is always around to interact with her readers.
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Meet Erika Wilde:
Erika Wilde (aka Janelle Denison) is the USA Today bestselling author of over 50 contemporary romances for multiple print publishers.
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