#divider by fireflygraphics!

[milky-aeons]

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇

౨ৎ . . . in which CHUUYA NAKAHARA begins to notice there's one particular day of the year you hate to celebrate.

warnings: female reader, established relationship, suggestive content, criminal themes, previous trauma (f!reader), healing, hurt/comfort, w.c 2.2k

"You want to go for dinner? Today? Oh, would it be okay if we reschedule, Chuuya? I forgot about a friend I promised to see..."

"Ah — the weather today is forecast to be awful! How about we just stay inside and watch a movie?"

"Oh, I don't usually celebrate my birthday. But enough about me! Why don't we go abroad for your one? Wherever you'd like to go. I'm sure Mori-dono will spare his favourite General a few days."

.

.

.

𓂃 ࣪˖

Chuuya Nakahara, quick-minded and astute as he was, had noticed a pattern in your mood around this time of year. It was as if there were a storm impending, its' clouds creeping over you a little bit more each day. You became quiet and reserved; an opposite to how you were when it was just the two of you — your mind settled elsewhere.

He could see the nightmares you tried to hide play like shadows across your face.

"Do you think she'd like this one, Chuuya?"

He blinked, beckoned from his thoughts. You were gazing up at him — eyes wide, expectant — pointing at an item in front of you. Upon closer inspection, Chuuya realised you had been gesturing between two different coloured teddy bear plushies in the storefront window.

Frowning, what the fuck was the difference, he muttered, "Don't 'spose it matters. She's just gonna lie in bed and drool all over it in anyway, right?"

"Of course, it matters!" You scolded him. "Her favourite colour is pink; which is why I'm leaning more towards the right one. But the colour scheme of her room is yellow, which the other one would compliment much better. Hmm, I don't know."

"Just shove a few yen into an envelope. Easy. If you're feelin' extra sentimental, give her some mochi with it, too."

You flitted your eyes from the two cuddly toys to your boyfriend with the intent to level him with a look. But when you did, caught sight of his furrowed eyebrows; the way he wrinkled his nose when something was annoying him. He appeared to be attempting to burn holes through the glass with how intently he stared at the bears — trying to discern why this was such a big deal to you. Your terrifying mafioso boyfriend took on the appearance of a grumpy cat.

You wanted to kiss him. Everywhere.

So that was exactly what you did.

"Hey—O-Oi!" Chuuya exclaimed when you attacked him; leaning up on your toes to pepper his face with dozens of fluttering kisses. His hands came to your waist, firm but surprised, stabilising the both of you in case you toppled him over. His little noise of surprise mellowed into a boyish chuckle. He tugged you gently at the waist, pulling his face from yours, but still keeping close, still sharing the same whisper. "Where's all this eagerness comin' from? You seemed pretty satisfied this morning, from what I can recall."

The memories of him waking up next to you in your one-bedroom apartment rushed through you; a flash of wicked blue eyes and slow, sleepy heights of pleasure. You knew there was blush rushing to your cheeks — because Chuuya's eyes flickered down to them.

He grinned.

You rolled your eyes, not helping how you mirrored it.

"I hate you." It came chasing a chuckle.

Chuuya arched one of his sharp brows. "Oh?" He challenged, and then swooped down to trap you against his body. Leaning back, he lifted you into the air, spinning softly. "You'd never make it in the mafia, baby doll. Such a shit liar.

"Okay, okay. I think we're getting off topic." You said when he set you back down again, although kept a hand hovering a the small of your back. Instinctively, you leaned back into it, finding his touch familiar. "If I held a gun to your head and told you to pick, what one would you choose?" You asked, facing the bears again.

Chuuya snorted. "First, I'd call ya stupid for pointin' a gun at someone who manipulates gravity."

"Chuuya."

"Fine, the yellow one. It's less... annoyin', to look at."

"I'll take it." You smiled, then leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. Or, what you had meant to be chaste. But just as you shifted to move away, your unpredictable General boyfriend seemed to have other ideas; his slender fingers slid into your hair and tilted your head back, deepening what was supposed to be a thank you into something that screamed don't stop. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you into him against his body made of pure honed muscle and bone.

And the wicked man was smiling when he pulled away from you. You were dazed, gripping onto his leather coat, blinking the haze from your eyes when you refocused them.

"Don't mention it." He purred, and you almost contemplated leaning back into him. You opted to huff instead.

"What'll I do with you?" You murmured, ribbons of tease in your slightly hoarse voice.

Chuuya's expression became bemused, asking if you really wanted him to answer that question. You loved this silly back and forth that came so easily between you two. Free flowing and endless; how your relationship was strengthen by the fact you were both each other's best friend as much as one true desire. The heated moments always came with a parry, a joke, a nibble at your ticklish spot that made you howl. Like now — as mirth danced in his eyes, something quick-witted brewing behind them.

But as a few quiet seconds ticked by; that mirth darkened. It became something heavier and pondering.

You tilted your head slightly. "Chuuya?"

The corners of his lips battled against a frown. "Can I ask ya somethin'?" He asked, suddenly a little more serious.

"Of course — anything."

"Why won't ya tell me when your birthday is?"

The question caught you rather off-guard. It was not too far off the topic of today's little shopping trip; to buy your best friend a birthday present — and yet it still struck you all the same. You froze against him. Chuuya must have noticed, because the muscles in his cheek ticked when he clenched his jaw. Fuck, he hated upsetting you. He hated being the reason that anything but love and joy crossed your expression. But here you were — looking at him in a panic, like he just unholstered the gun at his hip and pointed it your way.

Despite his protective nature singing in his ears — telling him to just drop it, to bring it up some other time — Chuuya stood his ground. If there was one thing he couldn't bear other than hurting you, it was you closing down and hurting yourself.

Chuuya was quiet, levelling you with his expectant eyes. You could feel the bottom of your stomach falling through. Why now — why was he suddenly asking you this? Where was this even coming from? You bit your lip, a wall coming up and trying to wedge itself between you both — not that you wanted to push him away. But it was a reflex, a defence mechanism, ingrained into your brain since you were a small child.

You shook your head. "I just—can we not do this, Chuuya?"

"Can we not do this?" He repeated. You thought there was a hint of hurt edging his voice, but if there was, it was gone in a heartbeat. "Baby," He pushed, taking a step forward when you tried to pull away. "I get it if somethin' shitty happened, but at least tell me that — you don't owe me anythin', but I can't stand seeing the nightmares in your eyes, doll. It kills me when I don't know why."

Memories flooded up into your mind — hazy and distant now after so much time had passed, but they still stung enough to make you flinch. There were shouts and arguments, there was banging, there was your hands covering your ears to try and block them out. It was almost as if your were back there cowering in the corner of your room, rocking back and forth, and you instinctively tried to reach up to cover your ears.

But the air wasn't stuffy and stagnant — here, in the present, it was warm. It smelled like cherry blossoms and expensive leather gloves. You edged back into your surroundings by the soft brush of a thumb tracing your cheekbone. You weren't aware of the trails of wet tears that had fallen down your face until a light spring breeze brushed passed.

Chuuya didn't move an inch — catching every tear that tumbled down your cheeks. He held himself so still, so composed, because hell if he didn't want to demand every little detail about the asshole that hurt you that bad so he could pay them a kindly visit. He bit down on the inside of his cheek until copper sang on his tongue. But he couldn't startle you, he couldn't break your progress when you had been coaxed out from that awful place you locked yourself up inside. He just kept wiping your wet cheeks, not letting any of the tears fall.

"Talk to me." Chuuya whispered after a few pregnant seconds.

Talk to me, you repeated, letting it wash through your body and soothe the heartache hollowing out your chest. You were no longer back there, alone and afraid, you were here. With the love of your life. And you could trust him, you could lean on him as you would tell him to lean on you.

A long, rattling sigh left your lips. You leaned into one of his palms. "Sorry, I—" You chuckled, not really understanding why. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Don't be stupid—"

"But I did." You cut across him. "I guess, I haven't really healed from what I went through back then. I don't know... how to tell people things. Instead I just shove them down and expect you not to notice. Not a very fool-proof plan, huh?" Your lips kicked up into a watery smile.

Chuuya was patient; he cradled your face in the palm of his hand and placed his other on your hip, drawing soothing circles. He waited for you. You took a few heavy sighs before gathering the courage to push past years of pain and continue.

"I—I've always hated celebrating my birthday. Most of the memories I have from them were always unhappy, always full of pain, so I—I guess I never wanted you to find out about it. I don't know why, because I know out of all people you wouldn't judge me, but, I don't know—I—"

"Shh, it's okay." Chuuya cooed. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, baby." He then tugged at your waist to pull you into his chest, and you went willingly. Folding yourself into his embrace with your head tucked underneath his chin. He kissed the crown of your head and murmured into your hair, "Just wish you told me sooner. You've been carryin' all that 'round, huh?"

You hummed. Snuggled into his warmth and familiar scent a little more, drinking it in greedily.

"I underestimated how perceptive you were."

"Oi."

You giggled wetly. "Just kidding."

The both of you remained like that for quite some time. Uncaring of the curious onlookers passing by or those who slinked through the storefront doors. It was just the two of you; in a separate pocket of reality where time stood still. You knew there were old wounds on your heart that would take long to heal — some spearing so deep they would even leave scars. But you had found your person; the safe space that let all your thoughts go quiet after a long day.

And maybe that was enough.

The love you shared, the trust, it would be enough. It was enough.

"Can I guess?" Chuuya said through the peaceful quiet.

"Hmm?"

"April 10th."

"Excuse me?"

"April 11th."

"Are you trying to guess my birthday—?"

"May 1st!"

And he was absolutely not a man to back down, either. It was so silly, but true to his word, Chuuya threw out every random date that popped into his head instead of simply asking you. He kept guessing until he made tears smart your eyes from laughter. Until he went through every single month of the year before finally landing it right.

"First try." He gloated — evidently exhausted — sending you into another fit of laughter once more. "Shit. I better get to work, then."

"You—oh!"

Chuuya had swooped you up into an easy bridal hold right in the middle of a busy Yokohama street. You shrieked, half in glee, half mortified at all the pairs of eyes magnetised your way. Chuuya brushed them all off as he began to walk down the street; intent on carrying you all the way to wherever he wished to kidnap you off to.

"Work to do for what?" You asked against the side of his face.

Your criminal boyfriend with a heart of gold when it came to you turned to meet your eyes. There was a mischievous little twinkle in them you adored him for.

"Because I'm about to make this year's birthday the best you've damn well ever had, princess. And I ain't got long to prepare."

✎ . . . requested by wonderful nonnie!

WRITING REQUESTS

[eydi-andrius]

about this duck;

🦆 hello, my pen name is A.D. Andrius but you may call me "eydi"

🌻 i often write for characters that invoke something within. even if it was only me who was writing for that fandom, i will still do it

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🌻 i love posting here, so if you follow me, do expect that i do that a lot. if you also love talking, then we will vibe for sure

🧺 english is my second language and i struggle a lot with setting a scene

🦆 it makes my day whenever you reblog and leave comments on my stories. sometimes, it feels unbelievable that someone out there, do really read your silly little fanfics

🌻 lastly, this is a safe space. be at peace. its okay to let all of it go and just enjoy

my masterlist

my ao3

[kweenhazbin]

Marquie | 28 | masterlist (maybe coming soon idk)

[writermuses]

About Afet "Eris" Fischer

Age: 35

FC: Tuvana Türkay

Fears: Losing family/friends in some way out of her control

Height: 5'9

Role model(s): Jill Biden and Julia Gillard

Things they hate: The patriarchy

They will love you if... your idea of a good time is taking an unplanned motorcycle road trip and making good trouble along the way.

Favorite film(s): Mad Max: Fury Road, Erin Brockovich, Mulan

Favorite tv show(s): Kath & Kim, Golden Girls, Designated Survivor

Biography coming soon...

[kayentokk]

“You came?”

“You called.”

The dialing tone is almost mocking you as it rings. You’re a brave woman, and by no means do you let anyone walk over you, so why do you get the constant urge to tell him whenever you feel less?

Is it because you know he’ll reassure you? Help you get back up with the simplest, “it’ll be okay.” is that why? To be honest, you don’t know the true answer. You know that what other people say doesn’t define you, and you could care less. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though, and sometimes you just need someone. 

It doesn’t ring for long, maybe three times or five maximum, because he picks up. He always answers your calls and texts, it might take him a minute if he’s a work but he prioritizes you. That feels nice.Maybe that’s another reason why you call, because that’s the only constant thing left in your life at this point, him caring. Well, what you would define as caring anyway. 

He always waits for you to speak first if you call him, no matter how long it takes for you to get your thoughts together into a coherent sentence. He’ll wait. 

There’s silence for about a minute before you speak up.

“…sorry, I-I don’t really know-“ you pause and exhale mentally telling yourself to get your shit together. He senses your frustration through the phone. 

“Take your time,” he says lowly.

With one more breath you begin again tears filling your lash line, “I um..” your voice cracks and his heart is literally ripped from his chest. So you just say it all while trying to keep from absolutely sobbing over the phone. You tell him about how the gas station didn’t have your favorite drink, how your coworkers were complete assholes, the higher-ups who never deny the accusations, and he listens. Truly listens. It feels nice. 

In the middle of you going on another rant your doorbell rings. “Sorry, hold on one second,” you say into your phone.

You weren’t expecting a visitor, and you definitely didn’t feel like keeping company right now. It also didn’t help that your eyes were probably puffy along with your tear stained cheeks.

When you open the door though, all those thoughts go away. 

He’s here. 

Before you can even close the door and hang up the phone, you’re engulfed in a warm, tight embrace. You breathe in his scent that floods through you and puts you at ease as his stolid abdomen presses into your face. 

“You came,” you stated not even sure if he could understand you through the fabric of his sweater and your quiet voice.

He didn’t even get to respond before you let it all go. You wail, and sob, and cry your eyes out. All the while his hold on you never falters. Even though your tears and snot have soaked through to his stomach and he can feel it, even though he’s kind of hunched over in order to keep his arms around you due the the height difference, and even though he’s tired and has probably had a rough day too, none of that matters. 

Eventually your cries slow into soft sniffles and hiccups. He pulls you out of his chest, earning a groan from you, to tilt your face upwards where he can see. Your cheeks are all squished up covering some of your vision, and he delicately places a kiss on your forehead. 

“You called.”

[Nanami, Hinata, Bakugo, Rengoku, Kiba, Geto, Ushijima, Shinso, Tanjiro, Shikamaru, your fave]

@/fireflygraphics for the divider

[joonsmagicshop]

Welcome to JoonsMagicShop!

Hi Everyone!

My name is Emily and I'm a 29 year old Canadian girl

I'm a fan of BTS, Seventeen and anything else that comes across my dash.

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Send me an ask if you wanted to be tagged in a fic

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[thewritersaddictions]

First Kiss: Billy Hargrove- PassionFire

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Warnings: Talk of virginity, implied smut, 18+, First Kiss, talk of mean/abusive ex-boyfriend, helpful friend, sweet Billy, fluff, smoking. drinking, soft!Billy.

Summary: You’re hurt by your now ex-boyfriend when he breaks up with you for not giving up your virginity; Billy is more then willing to help

A/n- Fireflygraphics for dividers

WC- 2.5

Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List // Series Master List // First Kiss Master List

The tears hadn’t stopped, for hours I had been crying my eyes out. I knew why Jamie had broken up with me but I couldn’t really imagine why it was hitting me so hard. He and I had the talk about the fact that I wasn’t really comfortable with giving up my virginity, or truly anything that stripped my virginity away from me. Espically not when he was drunken mess from the lunch date earlier. 

Had I walked all the way to Billy’s house? Yes, I had walked all the way toward Billys. I hadn’t meant to just walk out of my house. Well maybe I had, my mind was clouded and I wasn’t able to think about anything other than needing someone, a shoulder to cry on. 

I had only ever been to Billy’s once or twice. Nothing more then to tutor him, a one off exchange between the both of us. I was tutor him once a month and he would help me with othe basic things. If I thought about it he was the one that introduced me to Jamie. I knocked on the front door only once, before i rang the doorbell. I could hear the rock music playing in the house at volumes I doubt his father or stepmother would allow. “What the hell do you…” The door had opened Billy was standing there. In nothing but an old beat up white tank top, and his signature jeans. 

“Y/n?” He questioend, he was aware of the tears I had running down my cheeks. Or tears that had stained my cheeks. “Billy I know that I’m here unannouced. I just didn’t know where else to go and Jamie he… well Jamie broke up with me.” I said in a ramble of mixed words. He kept his eyes on me for only a moment before the anger swept through his facial expressions. I had a quick moment of doubt, a moment of realizing my mistakes of trekking down to his house on Cherry Lane. “Billy… I’m sorry I think it will be better if I just leave.” I said hastily. Before I could turn to walk away he was grabbing my arm pulling into the warmth of the house. 

“Did you walk all the way here?” he asked his voice a little horse from what I would only guess he was trying to push down the anger. I only shook my head and then he was slamming his bedroom shut. His room smelt of cologne and smokes. Something that always had my head in a twist. “Why would you not just call me? You know I would come and get you?” He asked, to many questions and my own thoughts were cloding my already foggy brain. The bed was softer then I imagined it would be and it bounced as I moved on it. 

“Hello Mcfly? Are you there?” Billy asked waving his hand over my face. “Yeah I’m here. I just I’m sorry I need a second?” The words tumbled out of my mouth and the urge to cry was boiling over in the back of my throat. “Goddamn it Y/n.” Billy said throwing a punch into the air. “I’m sorry. Okay I’m sorry.” The tears had started to run again, I’m sure why or why I had even walked my sad ass all the way towards Billy’s. 

Billy hadn’t yet looked over at me up until that moment. “Fuck I’m sorry Y/n. I just don’t know how to deal with you know.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Of course the crying I forgot.” I said. I looked over at Billy for the first time. Looking at the sharpness of his jawline as he sat down beside me. I brushed the tears from under my eyes, and breathed hard. 

We sat in a cold and harass silence for a little to long. The room growing smaller as it more and more uncomfortable. I wondered where his parents where, and where was his witty red headed stepsister. I was dragged out of my thoughts when I heard Billy ask me a question. “So, if you don’t mind telling me what happened?” He asked, as he got up from the spot next to me and grabbed his smokes. 

Billy wasn’t always the most emotionally supportive friend or really a good friend at all. I had seen the small arguments that his father and Billy would get into. Things would be thrown, voices would get louder then normal, and punches would go flying normally hitting Billy in the chest, stomach or square in his perfect face. 

-

Did I mind telling Billy what had managed to happen. To have me to end up at his door on a random night. No, I honestly didn’t mind that’s why I had walked all the way here, to talk to someone about it. To let it go into the air and away from my over thinking mind, that was currently mualing it over. “I don’t mind Billy. Just promise you won’t go crazy on me?” I asked. I licked my chap lips, and looked over at him. He was ever so sightly taller then me. No matter if we were standing or sitting down. 

He sighed heavily, like my requests was a rather hard on to swallow down. “Yeah I promise.” He said exhaling a puff of smoke. So my story from earlier in the day began. “So I guess I should start earlier in the day right.” I said looking down at my hands. My fingers dancing between the fabric of my shirt and messing with my short nails. All I heard was a small hum for me to continue with my story. 

“Jamie and I had just gotten back from a lunch with his friends. You know the ones from the basketball team?” I asked, but continued on. “So we had gone and everything was okay. Jamie had picked me and was all gentlemen like. I don’t know how they managed it though, somehow where ever we went with Jamies friends they were able to get some sort of alcoholic drinks. I wasn’t sure of what kind, but I’m not a drinker. I never have been, so instead I watched as the boys and their girlfriends who were to prim and proper to know just how disgusting day drinking was. Drink and drink til their hearts were content.” I said, taking a slow breath, looking at Billy he was still interested in the story. 

“But a subject was brought up during lunch today. A topic that you don’t normally talk about in fucking public or with other people who aren;t in your relationship. Jamie had been asked how good of a fuck I was, and if I knew what I was doing.” I said, my words getting caught in the back of my throat. To be honest as I talked about it outloud the words seemed dirtier, and heavier then before. 

I shook my head and continued on with my my heart breaking story. “He laughed about it, telling everyone that I was prude, and didn’t ever really staisfed him at all.” I chortled, not that it was funny or a joke at all. Just sounded funnier now that I had time to think about his words and just how stupid of a guy he truly is. “Are you sure this is Jamie that you’re talking about? The same Jamie I know?” Billy asked me raised eyebrows in wonder. 

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, and please just let me finish and then I’ll get out of your hair.” I said with a huff before returning to my story. It wasn’t like there was much, beside the argument we had in the drive back to my house, and the argument we had before he broke up with me. There wasn’t much more to tell. 

“For the rest of that god for saken lunc hI sat in the uncomfortable silence of his friends girlfriends speaking about me like I wasn’t there and him and his friends laughing about the fact I was still a virgin. I hadn’t even kissed him yet.” I said. “We left not shortly after, and the car ride was horrible. I wasn’t able to hold it in any longer the anger boiling and finally tipping over the edge. I yelled at him as he drove me back to my house. He called me a prude once again and then a bitch for not just  giving him what he wanted.” I said my fingers twitching within my lap. Looking down at the carpeted floor. The stains from whatever Billy brought into his room had seeped into the flooring. 

And for the first time in the entire day I smiled. “The fighting didn’t stop, not even when he followed after me half drunk into my house. I tired to push him away but he wasn’y having any of that. So, he grabbed me tightly around the wrist.” I pushed my sleeve up showing the growing bruise that was caused because of his grasps. “I did try and get away Billy. I screamed at him to let me go and pushed him away, until his cold and dark eyes looked back at me and told me that he never not once in out entire relationshoped loved me, and that I was better off alone. The lost and little lamb that I was, was better off alone because nobody would want such a prude like me.”

It was silent for a moment before I started to speak again. “You know the rest Billy.” I said with a shurg of my shoulders. I was tired the crying, and screaming taking a lot of me. I sat there still, before I felt Billy’s rough hand touch over both of mine. “I knew I shouldn’t have shared you with my friends.” I heard Billy whisper out, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle into my skin. The touch was intimate for many a reason. But the most obvious one was the simple fact that Billy wasn’t one for touch, or any true sign of emotion. 

“Shared me?” I questioned. Shared me what the hell did that even mean? There was no pretending that the crush I had on Billy was ever going to go away. The crush had grown and been growing even through I was dating Jamie. “All of those damn guys are just pricks. Not to mention their dumb, dull girlfriends.” Billy said, his hand still resting into my mine. Thumb still rubbing soothing circles into my hand. 

“Yeah I get that, but what do you mean share me?l I was intrigued more about what the implications of his words meant, not by how his words made me wanna melt into his sheet. “Just be honest with me Billy. I’m a big girl and I can handle it.” I just for once tonight wanted the truth.whether it was cold and harsh or  made me feel giddy. I don’t know what was happening all around me. This felt like a hazy dream that I had dreamt a million times over. He deeply stared at me, a few whispys of his golden hair falling infront of his forehead. They were distracting me from another part of his handsome face. Those sky blue eyes that somehow pierce right into your heart. 

A heavy sigh left him before he composed himself. “I just mean that… you’re were my friend first ya know. I shouldn’t have let you out for the wolves.” Billy said. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, and the grip he had on my hand was getting stronger. “Billy? Please.” Was all I had left to say. The truth, please just the fucking truth that’s all I had been searching for all day long. 

“Fine, you want the truth don’t you. You can’t just leave it at the front door can you? Fuck,” Billy said voice growing deeper by the second. His eyes casted down to my bruised wrist. “I should have just kept you for myself. Treated you better than some asshole who clearly doesn’t doesn’t know who they have in their arms.” It was like pulling teeth with Billy to just get him to talk about the simplest emotions. 

I wanted to laugh, but that felt wrong. This must be a true joke right. Billy would never, never fall for the innocent, shy girl that was only his friend because he got something out of it. Right? “Now you’re tight lipped.” Billy commented as I had gone silent. I went to say something but things wer eswirling around in my head. “That’s okay. I get it, big bad Billy can’t help but like the girl that’s to cute for her own good. Who lets people walk all over hee. I should have protected you from an asshole like Jamie, but I thought that you would never. I mean never take a liking to me. I was a dick to… well to everyone. Maybe you alrady knew that, but then you still end up here at my doorstep. So, that must mean something right?” Billy rambled on. 

I was in shock for to many reasons at this point. Was he was rambling because he was letting his guard down, the millions of walls that he had built. He was still talking, but I wasn’t paying attention to the endless flow of words that were falling out. I was paying attention to how his tongue jutted out and licked over his lips. A shiny glaze making them glisten in the little light that he had. I didn’t know what was happening, not even after I started moving towards him. 

His hand was still on mine, so I leant in. “Billy.” I whispered. “Will you stop talking and just make up for the lost time.” I begged in barely a whisper. That signature smirk crossed over his rambling expressions. He reached me. A hand coming to cup the back of my neck as he leant down and pressed his lips against mine. 

The kind of kiss made me feel like the time around us had stopped. It wasn’t a kiss that I would ever be able to explain to my friends. It was like stars had aligned, and everything for just that one moment was perfect. Billy had taken my first kiss, and when we broke away from each other. That signature smirk hadn’t left his face, he was very cheeky. “How was that for a first kiss huh?” He asked. I rolled my eyes, “How about you ask me later. Like I said you have to make up for a lot of lost time.”

I winked at him, before going in for another deep and lustful kiss. This was going wherever it was supposed, without any further pushing on either of our parts. He pushed me down onto the mattress. His free hand roamed down my chest and found a spot on the side of my ribcage. Billy’s other hand stayed on my cheek, holding me closer than before. 

Completed on: 02/05/23

Posted on: 02/06/23

The Adults- @yourfavdummy

[late-to-the-party-81]

(Love is) Lemon muffins and chamomile tea

AN: This is my entry for @jadedvibes falling in love challenge. This story can be read as a standalone, or a prequel to my other Bruce/Hulk x Reader stories (I guess it’s a series now, oops). My chosen dialogue prompt can be found in bold in the text.

Dividers by @fireflygraphics and moodboard by me

Beta’d by @yarnforbrains

Please check out my main masterlist here and the series masterlist here

Pairing: Bruce Banner/Hulk x Reader

CW: Fluff/Meet cute, Falling in love, mild peril and threats of violence, Hulk being a sweetheart, one kiss.

Word count: 2.7k

It had started simply, as these things do. You were working your job at the independent coffee shop, making up flat whites, americanos and skinny mocha-lattes with extra foam and shots of non-sugar syrup. You saw lots of people every day, but after a while you began to recognise your regulars: baldy business suit (macchiato), working mom (hazelnut latte, sometimes with whipped cream), gaggle of college girls (who flip flop between seasonal flavoured hot chocolates, seasonal frappes and double espressos), and construction workers (a mix of americano’s and flat whites).

Then there was him. Not overly tall or broad, but with a riot of curly salt and pepper hair and kind, dark eyes partially hidden by glasses. He always seemed preoccupied, reading a book in the wait line, and then at a table if he chose to have his drink in. You’d peeked at his books several times and having seen they were all to do with physics, math, and computing, you’d concluded he was either a university professor or a scientist.

What made him stand out though was his order. He rarely had coffee, normally opting for a tea. Usually he chose  mint, the green of it almost glowing in the cup, but you’d started noticing a pattern – if he seemed stressed, agitated, he always asked for chamomile. And he nearly always drank this inside, as if he needed the time to decompress and compose himself - to escape whatever was frustrating him. 

The third thing that struck you was that he didn’t seem to have a regular time of day to attend. Sometimes he was outside the doors at opening, sometimes you were politely shoo-ing him out at closing. It made you think that maybe he worked close by and kept odd hours, popping in and out of your little shop whenever he needed a break. It was one of those late night incidents in the middle of summer that you learned his name.

You’d been dutifully cleaning down all the equipment, filling and setting the dishwasher to run overnight, and wiping the tables, watching ‘The Professor’ as you’d dubbed him from the corner of your eye. It had been a chamomile evening, apparently, and scattered in front of him were pieces of paper covered in his spidery scrawl, and two, thick books about some kind of brain draining topic. He’d read a bit, make a note, curse low under his breath, and then read a bit more, sometimes flipping back and forth through the pages. It felt mean to disturb him, but you’d turned the open/close sign 15 mins ago, switched all the lights off out back, and there wasn’t a lot else you could do. Also, your feet hurt and you just wanted to get home.

You walked up to him, coming round the side in hope he would see you, but he still jumped slightly when you greeted him.

“Umm, hi there.”

You almost swore his skin took on a green tinge as he swivelled on his stool, but when you looked again he appeared totally normal. You did need some rest!

“Sorry to disturb you, but we’re, umm, closed now.” 

The Professor blinked at you slowly, as if trying to process what you were saying, before tilting his head to look at the clock on the wall.  He looked down at his watch with furrowed brow, as though he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Damn! I’m so sorry.” He pulled off his glasses, folding them and putting them in his breast pocket. Turning back to the table, he started to shuffle his papers together, stuffing them and his books into his leather messenger bag.  “You should have told me earlier. I didn’t mean to hold you up. I just, umm, get in the zone sometimes and don’t notice the march of time.”

You smiled back, finding his slightly flustered state endearing. “It’s no problem. It was sort of nice to have someone else in here while I was shutting up.” 

Walking over to the door with him, you  held it open for him to leave. He walked through, took one step along the sidewalk before suddenly stopping, spinning on his heel and looking at you from under his dark lashes, a broad hand pushing through his hair.

“Err, I’m Bruce by the way.”

You grinned. He really was rather cute.

“Nice to meet you, Bruce. See you again sometime.”

He let out a small chuckle.

“Yeah, the next time I need a cup of tea, a lemon muffin, and, umm, some of the best scenery in New York.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggle at the cheesiness of his line.

“Smooth, Bruce, smooth…”

He shot you a smile, before turning away and heading off into the warm evening.

Summer made way for autumn, the heat tapering off, the nights creeping in and the leaves doing their annual costume change. You saw Bruce more often than before, striking up a friendship with him due to his frequent visits to the shop. Whenever he spotted you behind the counter, he’d shyly wave hello. It got to the point where he never had to line up any more, just situated himself at his favourite table, spreading out his books and notes, knowing that as soon as you got a moment you’d appear with his tea and a muffin. You’d begun to read his moods, and it wasn’t difficult for you to work out which tea he was in the mood for.

During quiet moments you’d come over and sit with him, either letting him ramble at you about his work  - despite the fact that if you understood one word in three you were doing well - or distracting him from whatever equation was frustrating him by telling him about your day. He’d often stay for a few hours, going through cup after cup of tea, and if he appeared when you were on a closing shift you knew he would be there until you ushered him out of the door.

It was the beginning of November now. Halloween had passed in a flurry of bat shaped cookies and pumpkin spice muffins, although the warm apple cider and pumpkin spice lattes were staying for a while. You smiled at the memory of when you gave Bruce one of the ciders instead of his normal tea. He’d sipped it absent-mindedly, and you’d seen the moment his taste buds had woken up.  His eyes went wide as he smacked his lips together before he threw you a smile that you’d never admit made you go slightly weak at the knees.

There was something between the two of you; some unspoken undercurrent. There were times, especially when it was only the pair of you left in the shop, that you felt yourself a hair's breadth away from reaching out to him, wanting so much to run your fingers through his tousled locks, take his glasses off, sit yourself on his lap and… but he was your customer. You never saw each other in any other setting, so you had to maintain your professionalism, but you itched for more, wondering if you should bite the bullet and ask him out. 

There’s always tomorrow, you thought.

Then, everything changed.

The wind whipped around you, causing swirls of leaves around your feet as you pulled the shop door shut, using the light from the streetlamp to see what you were doing as you locked it.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright getting home on your own?” 

Bruce stood next to you, wrapped up in a chunky scarf over his wool coat, his heavy messenger bag slung across his chest. He was shifting from foot to foot, looking a bit agitated, eyes darting all around as though looking out for any danger that may be lurking. With your back still turned to him, you rolled your eyes, before spinning to look at him, a soft smile now on your face as you pulled on your gloves.

“I’ll be fine, Bruce. I walk this route nearly every day. It’s only three blocks.”

“But there are some weirdos out there.”

“I know that, but I promise to stay in the well-lit areas, and I’ve got my pepper spray.” You pulled your keychain from your pocket, showing the small spray can attached.

“I could walk you home…” 

Your heart did that little ‘pitter-patter’ again at his sweet offer. Your lips turned up further.

“Go home, Bruce. I absolutely promise I’ll be okay. I’m on the mid-shift tomorrow, so see you around lunch time? Maybe I’ll take my break after I bring you your food? Regale you with the boring story of this walk home.”

He looked at you, just letting out a resigned hum at your stubborn independence.

“Okay. I just worry, you know. Pretty girl like you, walking home in the dark.”

While your heart did somersaults, you tried to maintain your cool.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bruce.” 

You could feel him watching you as you walked away down the sidewalk, and you couldn’t help but wonder if the fact that he cared so much meant  that he cared.

You kept your promise as you walked home,sticking to the middle of the sidewalk, not too close to the alleys and doorways, and also not too close to the road edge. That was until a man coming in the other direction crashed into you sending you staggering towards the side of a building. You bounced against the hard bricks, winded for a second, and then a hand closed around your wrist, yanking you into the dark alleyway. You let out a screech and pulled back, but the hand held you fast, pulling you further away from the lights and any other pedestrians. You fumbled in your pocket for your keys, your small can of pepper spray, but a firmer tug caused you to stumble, and they fell from your gloved hand onto the ground with a clatter.

“Let me go!” 

The man, tall and filthy, leered at you through missing teeth, running his gaze up and down your body in hunger, despite how much you were covered with your duffle coat. You lashed out with your free arm, and your feet, panic rising within you.

“Do as the lady says…”

A voice from the mouth of the alley stopped both you and your attacker in your trackers, both your heads whipping round.

“Bruce!”

He took a step forward, pulling off his bag and scarf, dropping them to the ground, then started to undo the buttons on his coat.

“Fuck off!” Your assailant yelled at Bruce and followed it up with a gob of spit that landed at Bruce’s feet.

“Come on, man, you don’t want to do this.” There was a strange look on Bruce’s face, like he was resigned to a course of action he didn’t want to take. He shrugged off his coat and lay it over a dumpster, seemingly calm.

Suddenly there was a gun in play, in the hand of the filthy attacker, pointing directly at Bruce. Fear spiked within you.

“No, no, no!”

Your struggles began anew, as you desperately tried to pull him off balance, but he flung you to the side, sending you careening into another dumpster as you fell, your head bouncing harshly off the metal with a dull clang. You slumped to the floor, dizzy and you saw Bruce, through your blurred vision, take a couple of steps towards you.

“Aa-aah. You don’t wanna be a hero. Just go away and you won’t get hurt.”

Bruce smirked, an expression that you’d never witnessed before.

“Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.”

He took another step forward.

Everything happened in slow motion.

The gun fired, the shot loud, almost deafening to your ears, the bullet zipping through the air towards Bruce.

Who was no longer Bruce.

As fast as the shot had been fired, Bruce changed - transformed. All at once his skin turned green, and he grew in bulk and size, his shirt shredding itself.

You screamed.

The Hulk snorted, grinned at your attacker and spat out a mangled bullet.

“Just go away. You won’t get hurt.”

Hulk walked forward with a grin, plucking the gun away and squashing it in his giant fist, and your assailant ran away on jelly legs, tripping and bouncing off the walls in his haste. He hadn’t even disappeared fully before the giant, green creature turned his attention to you. He moved forward and in your disorientated and pained state, you tried to back up, unable to actually go anywhere because of the dumpster behind you.

“Please don’t hurt me!”

Hulk’s eyes went wide, and he sat down with a thud, the dumpster behind you juddering. He started to reach out towards you, but you shrank into yourself and he stopped.

“Hulk not hurt Pretty Girl. Pretty Girl Banner’s friend.”

“Banner? What’s going on? Where’s Bruce?”

Hulk tapped the side of his head with a thick finger.

“Bruce in here. He let Hulk out to help.” His face took on a slightly downcast expression. “But he says I have to go back in now.”

He looked thoroughly dejected.

“All anyone want Hulk to do is smash. Hulk would like to make friends too.”

Your fear melted away. You shuffled closer and placed a hand on one of his meaty forearms.

“Thank you for helping me. I can be your friend, if you want?”

His face split into a wild smile. 

“Hulk would like to have Pretty Girl as a friend.”

“Well there you go, Big guy. I’ll organise something with Bruce, okay?”

“Okay!” He raised his free hand again and, more gently than you thought possible, ran the back of his hand over your cheek. “Bye-bye, Pretty Girl.”

He closed his eyes and with a small shudder began to shrink down, the green of his skin receding until it was pale again and Bruce was looking at you. His shirt lay in tatters across his shoulders and he immediately got up to retrieve his coat, shoving his arms into it at speed.

“I… ummm… well… Secret's out now, I guess. I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m not sorry I helped you. See you around.”

He picked up his bag and scarf and walked towards the mouth of the alley. You scrabbled to your feet, arm outstretched in front of you.

“Bruce, wait!” He turned, looking at you warily. “There’s something I wanna ask you. And don’t think it’s because of what just happened. Well it sort of is, but only in a ‘you gotta go for what you want before it’s too late’ kinda way, and… shit, I’m rambling.” You clamped your mouth shut and drew in a deep breath through your nose. Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought.

“I like you, Bruce. In fact, I can’t think straight with you around. You’re sweet and kind, and clever and handsome. And…and… I don’t think it would take much to fall in love with you. And I wondered, if you’d like to maybe… go for a drink tomorrow when I finish my shift?”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, twisting your hands in the sleeves of your coat, aware that you had just asked him out in a dingy, smelly and downright filthy alley, just after he’d rescued you from goodness knows what kind of a fate, but you couldn’t be sorry about it. Okay, maybe you would be sorry about it if he didn’t say something and…

You didn’t even notice him moving, but suddenly he was there, in front of you, the buttons of his coat almost touching the zipper of yours, the twin ‘huffs’ of air from both your mouths merging together in the coolness of the night. Then his hands were on your face, cupping your cheeks before his lips fell to yours, kissing you sweetly. You fisted his coat, well, as best you could with your woollen gloves on, until you separated from each other, eyes locked and staring. Bruce broke the silence first.

“In case you didn’t realise from that, I like you too. And maybe I’m likely to fall in love with you as well. You’re so smart, so beautiful. And you make an awesome apple cider.”

You giggled, your head falling to lean against his chest.

“Walk me home, Bruce?”

“Of course, Pretty Girl. Whatever you want.”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @sidepartskinnyjeans @tuiccim @doasyoudesireandlive @talia-rumlow @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky

[daydreaming-in-letters]

The Heir

Part 3

01/13/2023

Pairing: (Modern Day!)Charles Brandon x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 7,736

Warnings: language, bickering and teasing (so much teasing), alcohol, grief and regret, a smidge of angst, Charles being a giver 👅, unprotected sex, fluff

Summary: One day after the eventful evening at the pub, it's time for a visit at Brandon Manor.

A/N: His Snobbiness and the little tree hugger are back for the third and final part. I know, it's been 84 years, sorry. Hope you still enjoy!

Pictures found here, here and here.

Divider by @fireflygraphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

The Old House

The first stars had settled all across the early night sky when she stepped through the archway and onto the grounds of Brandon Manor. A pity it was so late in the day already, she mused, with darkness beginning to shield the beautiful garden from view which she had come to love so much. They had walked here a good many times, the late duke and her, plotting against Charles and his preposterous plans. They seemed almost blasphemous tonight, she thought, as she took in the magnificent estate that stood like a grey giant against the starry firmament. 

The seagulls seemed to have decided it was time to retreat in the face of the things to come, the only sounds coming from the gravel that scrunched underneath her determined feet and the low rumble of the waves that broke against the cliffs. She wanted to get this over with, whatever it was he wanted to talk about, before he could lure her even further under his spell.

Yesterday had been a close call, she knew that now. It was still hard to admit, but to know that he had been there right behind her for the whole walk home had been a rather nice feeling. So warm and comforting, daring her to try it on and see where it would lead her. God, she had been almost tempted to wave him goodbye when she had arrived at her doorstep. He had still been there, patiently waiting by the gate until she had unlocked her door and stepped inside. 

“What the fuck am I doing here?” she whispered underneath her breath while her hand found the cold head of the stone lion that guarded the main entrance to Brandon Manor in a habitual pat for good luck. “Stay focused, let him say his part and then get your stupid arse out of here before—“ No, she wouldn’t allow herself to say that out loud. Even thinking about it was wrong on so many levels. And she was glad that her body for once seemed to agree with her will as her hand yanked down the cord of the ancient doorbell decisively.

Fully prepared to wait a good while before he would make it to the door from God-knew-where in the extensive house, she flinched when only seconds later the ancient wood gave way to the outline of his broad shoulders. A faint glow surrounded him, probably coming from the library, and the absence of any other light almost hid his shit-eating grin when he recognised his guest.

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N. Finished hugging trees already?”

A pair of attentive eyes roamed her body freely and she hated how warm it made her feel with so little effort. 

“Evening, Your Snobbiness.” And without waiting for his invitation, she pressed past him.

“Please, call me Charles. I feel that’s appropriate after I witnessed you making scrambled eggs out of a useless pair of testicles yesterday.”

She didn’t need to look at him, the slight teasing in his tone was enough to make her envision the dazzling smirk that was most likely accompanying his words.

“Fine,” she mumbled almost inaudibly, forgetting why she had said it in the first place. There was a faint memory of the words she had actually wanted to throw at him, but when she had turned, his dukey handsomeness had simply taken her breath away. Of course she knew that he was a pretty fucker, but seeing him here, in his natural habitat, his sharp, stubbly jawline and his twinkling eyes hit completely different.

And as if that wasn’t already enough for her senses to deal with, he had chosen yet another outfit that one would expect to find in a posh country fashion catalogue. His camel turtleneck jumper fit his skin tone perfectly while the dark brown suede jacket he wore above it resembled the colour of his hair. And amongst all those earthy shades, his stormy blue eyes stood out like two exquisite jewels.

He must have said something judging from the hand he was holding out towards her expectantly. For a second she stared at it in total confusion, not sure whether he wanted her to take it, before she decided against her instinct and shot him a quizzical look.

“Your jacket,” he repeated the last bit of his question, a knowing smirk pulling the corners of his mouth upwards. 

Bloody gorgeous man. And so she reluctantly peeled herself out of her jacket, after she had set her camera carefully onto the bench next to the coat rack. With a silent gesture he bade her to follow him as soon as she was ready.

“I assume you failed yet again on your quest to take a picture of the white stag?”

Her answer was a murderous glare. “And what if I didn’t fail this time?”

His lips twitched a little while he held her infuriated gaze. “Oh, you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have wasted a single second to rub your success in.”

“Idiot.”

Her annoyance pulled a deep chuckle from his chest that echoed from the high walls of the empty hall as he led her up the stairs. She knew all too well where he would take her and the memory made her heart grow heavy. Right at the head of the stairs lay one of the former reception rooms which had served his father as a spacious living room with its large fireplace. Two high glass doors led onto a huge balcony. It was common knowledge that there was no view of the sea in the whole of Fakeston that was more beautiful than the view from up here.

It was here that she had last seen the old man, only a day before his heart had gotten tired of beating and as Charles opened the door for her now, she didn’t know whether to feel relieved or heartbroken about the fact that nothing had changed here since her last visit. If anything, the lack of change made it even more apparent how different the room felt now that he was gone. It seemed a little too big, a touch too dark and the crackling fire couldn’t fully warm the stately old place tonight. 

She felt the sudden urge to get out of here. It had been a bad idea to meet with Charles anyway, but before she could think of a good excuse to leave, she felt Charles’ presence behind her back. In an instant she turned, neither trusting him nor herself when he was this close, but to her surprise she found him holding a small wooden box that had definitely seen better days. It was covered in battered crimson velvet which, together with the metal clasp at its front, made it look positively ancient. 

“What’s that?”

“That’s the reason I needed to speak to you.”

Carefully his strong hands opened the lid to reveal a stunning gold and silver pendant, beaded with pearls and dark red gemstones. It was attached to a silver necklace that was held together by a small hook, matching the pendant perfectly.

She didn’t understand what this breathtaking piece of jewellery could possibly have to do with her and she understood even less why he shoved the box into her hands.

“It’s yours.” For a moment there was silence. She didn’t know what to say, hell, she didn’t even know if she had heard him correctly and so she was more than pleased when he chose to speak again. “My father instructed me very clearly in his last will that you should have it.”

Patiently, he waited for her response and when she still didn’t move after a while, he reached inside the box, fingers closing around the precious object to take it out. Mere seconds later she could feel the weight of the necklace around her neck, the touch of the cool metal finally making her snap out of her petrified state.

“It has been passed down in my family from generation to generation, mother to daughter or daughter-in-law. I guess leaving it to you means my father gave up all hope I’d ever find a wife to pass it on to.”

“I can’t possibly accept this.” The fingers of her free hand were already reaching for the hook, fumbling blindly at the nape of her neck, when a pair of determined hands wrapped around her own and gently stopped her antics. 

“You can and you will.” His tone made it unmistakably clear that he wouldn’t argue with her on this matter, even if his eyes couldn’t fully hide the irritation about his father’s decision, and so her fingers went limp and abandoned their task. “If only because it suits you so exceptionally well.”

Had he just— “Was…Was that a compliment?”

“A compliment?” he spat, a wild smile gracing his lips as he took a step back. “Why on earth would I compliment you? Have you forgotten that we are sworn enemies?”

“How could I ever forget when your infuriating face is right in front of me as a constant reminder of our feud?”

She mirrored his dazzling smirk, her eyes refusing to do the decent thing and look away.

“I take it you’re not interested in staying for a glass of wine then?”

“Indeed I am not.” For a second his smile faltered while hers stayed perfectly in place. “Yet, it is the least I can do after robbing you of your family jewels, don’t you think?”

And there it was again, the million dollar smile that suited him so well and made her knees go weak a little every time. But now, she almost regretted her answer when it made him turn away from her to fill their glasses. 

Suddenly, she felt awfully naive. Why had she agreed to stay? Did she really hope anything would happen between him and her tonight? He would never see her as anything more than a tree hugger, a nuisance to his perfect plan. Not that she wanted him to see her as anything else in the first place. What a ridiculous thought. She and Charles Brandon. Ridiculous!

It must have been the pretty room with its romantic fireplace that had gotten to her head. Maybe a bit of fresh air would make her see clearly again. And so she strutted over to the large glass doors and stepped onto the balcony. She walked straight over to the balustrade, letting the fresh breeze that came from the sea ease the turmoil he managed to awaken deep inside of her whenever she was with him. 

It was a beautiful night, the crescent moon sat brightly in the clear sky, a few of its beams kissing the waves to crown them with pure silver. Despite the light, she could only guess where the land ended and the cliffs dropped down into the rolling waves although she had seen the thin line of the cliff’s edge a thousand times from this very spot. The wind wasn’t as harsh as it usually was up here, or maybe there was another reason why she didn’t feel its chilly blow as strongly tonight.

Unconsciously, her fingers lifted to find the Brandons’ family heirloom. The pendant felt a little strange as it rested against her warm skin, the white drop of a pearl that was attached to it dangling dangerously close above the valley of her breasts. 

She had been so deep in thought that she almost jumped when the glass of wine appeared seemingly out of nowhere in front of her face. Still a little startled, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“The necklace is quite heavy.”

“My father always said it was a symbol of the hardships our title brings along with it.”

“Hardships?” She huffed. “I’m sorry, but I fail to see the hardships you are suffering because of your title.”

His face stayed completely unreadable as he looked out across the bay and for a moment she thought he might not have heard her pointed remark at all when he turned to her again with that playful smirk on his lips. 

“Well, for one, there would be the hardship of your company.”

“Hm. Isn’t it the other way around really? I mean, I suffer from your company just as much, plus, it’s me who has to carry the burden of this historical necklace from now on.”

He lifted his glass, using it to point towards her own.

“It’s a good thing you have some wine then to help you through the seemingly never ending hours of my company.”

He leaned in, still holding out his glass towards her with that darned smile on his face.

“To our shared suffering.”

“Cheers.”

Even in the darkness his eyes cast their bewitching spell on her as he held her gaze while he lifted his glass. And he didn’t let go, not even to blink. This man was insufferable, leaving her no choice but to be the reasonable one in this duo and pretend to let her eyes wander to enjoy the majestic view across the moonlit bay.

“How’s Henry? I haven’t seen him around since you used him to thwart my plans the other morning.”

“He’s fine. He fell asleep in the library a while ago. It’s his favourite place in the house. Probably something about the sweet smell of old books, don’t you think?”

She looked over at him and she couldn’t help but wonder if he actually shared his dog’s fondness for old books. There was something utterly enticing about the thought of him in that library, sitting on the window seat or in one of the old wing chairs, completely lost to the world around him. She bet he had the most wonderful reading voice, low and warm as he painted colourful pictures word by word.

“Are you okay?”

Shit, she must have zoned out for a moment. 

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

In a small fit of panic her hand locked around the heavy pendant again and his eyes followed her movement, providing her with the perfect opportunity to seize revenge for making her fantasise about him. Slowly her fingers loosened and glided along the curve of her breast in slow motion until she let her arm fall to her side nonchalantly. 

“You’re shivering. Should we go back inside?”

“No, I’m not,” he denied, his eyes shooting up from her chest to form an expression of outrage.

Oh, he had definitely been shivering. “Yes, you are, Your Grace.”

“I am most certainly not.” He raised his chin in defiance. “But we can go back inside if you wish.”

With a triumphant smile, she nodded and wasted no more time to turn towards the building.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you called me by my title,” he started to tease again as they headed inside, obviously regaining his old self-confidence.

“Oh, I wouldn’t read too much into that if I were you. Just a little something to warm your heart as you were so obviously freezing.”

“Was not!”

“Yes, you were.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes like an annoyed teenager, but he couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his lips. His enticing, perfectly shaped lips, so tempting, so kissable, making it so easy to forget that he was still the villain in this whole story. 

The sudden change of air as they stepped back inside made her shudder and she drew away before he could notice. She could feel his quizzical gaze on her back as she walked over to the dark mahogany table that held an old gramophone, its metal horn shining in the dancing flames of the fire. It didn’t surprise her in the least when she found the same record sitting on the turntable that had played during her last visit and even after she had wound the crank and carefully placed the needle, her lips held a wistful smile when she looked up to find Charles again.

He was standing by the fireplace now, watching her carefully. She could be mistaken in the dim light, but was there a hint of concern in his eyes? Or was it something else entirely? Something she felt inside as well and was trying so hard to push aside.

“What are you doing?” he asked. The question seemed a bit silly, especially since the first crackling notes of the song already filled the silence, but she chose to satisfy his curiosity anyway.

“Making some music.”

She didn’t know what vexed him more, that she seemed to find it necessary to state the obvious for him or the smug smile she chose to accompany her statement with, but the rolling of his eyes in fake annoyance had been well worth it.

“Thanks for enlightening me, but I can see that.”

“Then why bother asking?” He was just about to come up with a flippant retort, when she cut him off short. “Did you know that this was your father’s favourite?”

“I…I didn’t.” In the blink of an eye all the playfulness that had made his eyes shine so beautifully was gone. “Just like all the other things I didn’t know about him.”

He tore his eyes away to stare into the flames instead, making her stomach clench and her heart ache for him. In the past, she had often imagined to hurt his Snobbiness in the most creative ways for what he wanted to do to the very building they were standing in right now, but never would she have aimed this low. Yet, without intent, she had and before she even knew what she was doing, she found herself by his side, her hand gently squeezing his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have…” Slowly he lifted his gaze to find her eyes  again, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe upon the sheer amount of pain and regret  that mirrored in the stormy blue. “Can we please not talk about this tonight?”

“Of course.”

Anything. Anything to make that sparkle return to his eyes again.

“How about a dance instead?”

“Huh?” 

Anything but that, obviously. He couldn’t be serious, could he? She must have misheard.

“Dance with me. Please.” 

He was joking. He must be. As if she would— 

A movement broke her train of thought, and when she followed it, she found his hand already waiting for her to take it. So she had heard him correctly. Interesting. Interesting and rather fortunate. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for all evening, her chance to fight for her cause once again. Maybe the last she would ever get. There was no way she couldn’t take it, still she felt bad about what she was about to do.

“I will, if you agree to come to the village council meeting and talk about your plans for Brandon Manor.”

She had expected him to decline or at least think it over for a moment, but he didn’t even hesitate. 

“Agreed.” 

Eager to cash in his benefit of the deal immediately, he didn’t even wait for her to process his answer before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. The smuggest of grins began to spread over his face as a startled gasp escaped her, and instead of allowing her some space to breathe, he even tightened his hold and brought her closer still.

A dance. It was just a dance. No need to freeze in his arms, every muscle taut to a point that bordered on painful. But forcing herself to relax was easier said than done, with him pressed up against her body, moving so close to her, only the slightest bit, but enough to make her feel all of him. She didn’t dare look up into his eyes, afraid of what she would find there and, even worse, what it would do to her. Unfortunately, looking down turned out to be no less aggravating as the image of his defined pecs forced itself upon her, clenching and stretching the fine wool of his jumper so deliciously. 

Heat. Heat was all she felt. The heat from the fire, the heat of his touch, seeping through her clothes and underneath her skin where his large hand rested against her back, rushing through her, multiplying, until it filled every last inch of her being. 

Even the divine softness of the suede leather underneath her fingertips couldn’t soothe her agony. She could still feel him, despite the extra layer of clothing it provided, and no matter how hard she tried to fight it, the thought how he would feel against her without the protection of their clothes kept pushing itself back into her mind relentlessly. It was torture, and enchanting none the less. It made her careless, made her want to relax in his arms, to give in and let him lead the way.

But the spell was broken suddenly when she could feel his leg slide in between hers, his massive thigh clenching and pressing against the one spot where all the heat that burned her body from the inside seemed to collect. With another gasp, her head flew up. A bad idea, she realised, as the sudden movement stirred the air and, the very second her eyes locked onto his, brought a heady whiff of his scent. And she was lost, defenceless against the invasion of her every sense by the same man she had vowed to oppose—to hate—forever. 

And now she found herself in his arms, dizzy with want for him, clinging to him tighter with every passing second. She needed to stop this before it would lead to something more, something they would both regret in the morning. 

“Remind me again,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his to hide her face, “how did we end up here?”

“I guess it all started with you touching my hand that night at the pub.” He fell silent for a moment, but she could sense that there was something else coming. “I have been wanting to ask you all evening. Why did you do it?”

Her first instinct was to evade his question or to tease him again, but there was something about the tone of his voice, about the way his body seemed to stiffen the slightest bit, that made it impossible not to answer him truthfully.

“I remembered something your father had told me about you. By the time I thought it was just wishful thinking or his guilty conscience speaking. I thought he wanted to make excuses for your abominable behaviour so badly that he’d rather blame himself than letting his son be the villain in this scenario. But that night at the pub, I…I realised he may have been right about you all along.”

“And what did he tell you?” 

His lips were so close to her ear, his warm breath wafting over her neck with a shiver.

“He…he believed that the death of your mother broke you and he regretted he wasn’t able to give you the love you would have needed and deserved so much. Your father only realised when it was too late that he had been so caught up in his own grief he had failed at being a good father to you.”

It was the truth, and still it pained her to tell it. Not as much as it must have pained him, judging from the deafening silence that pushed itself between the two of them for a while.

“So it was pity I have to thank for this?”

The icy spite in his voice froze her in place at once. On instinct his accusation made her push him off a little, to be away from him just as much as to be able to look into his eyes. Still her words were as soft as the touch of a feather when she spoke again.

“No. I think your grief gave me something I could relate to, something we had in common. And even though I wanted to hate you more than anything, I couldn’t. Not anymore.” Her eyes fell to her hands that still rested against his chest from pushing him off. “I guess you can’t really hate a person you share an experience as intense as the early loss of a parent with.”

She had feared he might have questions that would force her to dig up the memory of her father again, a memory she had so carefully stowed away deep inside her heart. Only sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, she allowed it to resurface, but it always came at the cost of pain and tears and nightmares. But to her great surprise he didn’t ask any questions. Instead she could feel the gentle touch of his fingers, grasping her chin and lifting her head. 

“I’m glad my father had you in his life when I couldn’t be there for him.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. He knew why you couldn’t and he forgave you for it.”

“I know.” The hand on her chin fell to his side as he tore his eyes away from hers. “What I don’t know is if I can ever forgive myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that either, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to have this weigh on your conscience for the rest of your life.”

With her words, the song died away, leaving a silence that was almost unbearable. It made her uncomfortable, more than their first encounter or his unexpected appearance at the pub ever could have, and it made her foolish. And so she reached for his hand.

She had never expected her gesture to bring much comfort, but then he squeezed it gently, and she couldn’t believe her eyes when he even brought it up to his lips to place a tender kiss to her knuckles. This must be a dream. His Snobbiness would never…

It was only when he pulled her in again, holding her tight and swaying her slowly that she realised the next song had started to play. Eyes fixed on her, he monitored her closely. She didn’t know if he was waiting for something or if he was just teasing again, whatever it was, she didn’t want this to stop.

“So, um, Miss Treehugger, we’re still sworn enemies, right?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely, Your Snobbiness.”

“Good. Good. I’d thought you might say that.” He still held her gaze, his face the epitome of seriousness as his forehead began to wrinkle. “Tell me this though. Why are you smiling then?”

“Smiling?” She wasn’t, was she? Oh dear, it seemed she was. Deny. Deny. “I’m not smiling.”

“No, you definitely are smiling.” Urgh, she was. And that measly try of playing it down wouldn’t even have convinced herself. 

“I told you, I am most certainly not! Probably just about to have a stroke caused by the enraging company.”

As excuses go, that had certainly been a better one. Still, it didn’t need more than a cock of his eyebrow to make her cave.

“Fine. So what if I was actually smiling?”

His pokerface was without a doubt masterful in comparison to hers.

“Nothing,” he stated nonchalantly. “I would just be wondering what you are smiling about.” “My point exactly. What would I have to smile about right now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe…could it be because of me?” The scornful huff that came from deep within didn’t seem to impress him much. “Do you by any chance enjoy dancing with me?” He even had the audacity to lean in. “Being close to me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Your Grace.”

A deep chuckle followed her comment, and the mischievous sparkle in his eyes told her that he was far from finished teasing her.

“You know, just a thought, but if the two of us were characters in a story, I think we both know that right now was the moment we would ever so slightly drift closer until—”

His voice was so deliciously low, luring her into the little narrative he had spun.

“Until?” she breathed, her eyes betraying her last restraint, already knowing the answer as they dropped down to his mouth.

“Until our lips would touch in a tender kiss.”

With all her might she willed down the moan that was forming in her throat, but still her body chose to betray her, pressing itself up against his, one hand drifting around his neck.

“You mean like this?”

“Exactly like this.”

Determined fingers cupped her cheek without resistance and she knew she was lost as his eyes betrayed him just as much, glued to the movement of her lips as she went on.

“What a ridiculous thought. You hate me, just as much as I hate you. And this enemies-to-lovers nonsense only ever works in corny romance stories.”

“You’re right. It’s ludicrous. I would never.” 

Determined fingers pulled her face to his, his hot breath caressing her lips. And with the final shred of sanity leaving her body, she whispered her last protest. 

“Never.”

And then his lips were there, so soft, yet so enticingly demanding. There was no more room for teasing as he pulled her closer, his body moving so delectably against her own while his mouth devoured her, coaxed her to open up to him so he could claim her wholly. And by all that was holy to her, she wanted him. Wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin, his mouth roam her breasts while he moved inside her. She wanted to be his, and make him hers in return. But—

With a gasp she broke away. “I should leave now.”

“Why?” 

She had hurt him, again. But he would thank her for it in the morning.

“To spare us both the regret.” Obviously, he wasn’t of the same opinion at all, clasping her even tighter. “Please, if you don’t let me leave now, I fear I won’t be able to stop.”

“Is that what you want? To stop?”

Oh, how much she wanted to lie, to tell him that she didn’t want him at all, that this was wrong. But she couldn’t. And when her answer finally came, it was feeble but decided. 

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

The words sounded so simple from his mouth, so logical, but they were nothing compared to the feeling of giving in to her desire. It was all-consuming, pulling her in until she wanted to drown in his kisses just to be resurrected by his possessive touch, spiralling her right into a frenzy. There were hands and mouths everywhere. And in a heartbeat she was afire, burning in his arms, and yet she had never felt more alive.

It was only the touch of his bare skin against hers that made her come to her senses again. 

“Charles,” she sighed and as if she had lifted the spell that had unleashed their carnal desire, he broke away. But she had been wrong once again, it seemed, as she opened her eyes to find the most alluring sight in front of her, making her knees go weak in an instant. But despite the most prominent thing, she couldn’t even tell what aroused her more, his furry chest, heaving as he used the short intermission to catch his breath, or his eyes, dark, and gleaming with want for her as they roamed her naked form freely. She could have stared at him forever, sadly the pleasure his sight brought was short lived. Soon his gaze settled on her neck, making her wonder what was so interesting about it until his hand reached out to trace the silver necklace all the way down to the gorgeous pendant. 

“As I said,” he grinned cheekily, “exceptional.”

His lips mimicked his fingers, following their path along the precious piece of jewellery, and further down. He was kissing, licking, sucking every last inch of her chest, basking in the sweet melody of lewd sounds he coaxed from her lips. She found herself on the brink of madness already when all of a sudden, he decided to stop. Her eyes snapped open in an instant, finding him on his knees, the exact position she wanted him in, his lips mere inches away from her stomach, but all he did was stare up at her with a wicked grin on his lips.

“You are insufferable, Brandon.”

As expected, his grin only grew wider. “Am I now?” And with that his lips found her skin again. Leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, he ventured south, seemingly giving her what she wanted, just to hold once again, right above where she needed his attention most.

“Will you stop teasing me already?”

“As you wish.”

She had never expected him to yield this easily and so she watched in disbelief as his tongue found her hot sex, slipping right in between her folds without hesitation. 

“Ah, fuck!” 

His eyes shot up to hers upon the expletive his actions had caused, and although his mouth was too engaged in pleasuring her to display the devilish smirk on his face, the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. What a sight, to see his gorgeous face between her legs, his sharp tongue finally put to good use after the aggravating comments it usually produced. A skill he had mastered just as much as the art of making her knees buckle and her head swim with the exquisite rolls and flicks of his tongue.

As if he had read her mind, his eyebrows rose up in a challenge and she had to bite her tongue not to moan his name out loud again. She wouldn’t grant him that satisfaction, not before he had granted hers. But he seemed very eager to please tonight, so his tongue was soon joined by two of his fingers. Carefully they pressed into her, a task made easy by the juices that had already collected thanks to his supreme ministrations, while his other hand clutched her bottom tightly to keep her upright. 

She had thought it was a rather presumptuous gesture, but as soon as he started to move within her, she found that it wasn’t enough at all. In the dire need to steady herself, she grabbed a fistful of his hair. Just the one should be sufficient, she assumed, but she was proven wrong once more. Her tight grip on him forced a groan so powerful the vibration made her see stars as it rolled across her sensitive pearl. And so her other hand dove into his lush locks as well. 

She was so close already, her hands now guiding his movements in tune with the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers. God, this was—

“Don’t stop,” she panted, “don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t. Instead she heard him mumble something against her that sounded suspiciously like, “Never,” before he tightened his firm grip on her behind to pull her further into him and all of her senses clouded over at once. Her eyes fell closed as the rapture of her high surged through her. She didn’t feel her fingers tighten in his hair, didn’t hear his muffled curses against her sex, half pleasure half pain, that mixed with her own praise of his name so beautifully.

“Charles,” she whispered once again as he slowly retreated, leaving her blissed out yet unbearably empty and already hungry for more. Her whole body was still trembling as he guided her onto his lap and into a strong pair of arms that eagerly awaited her. For a while he just held her like that, his hands drifting up and down her back soothingly while her fingers subconsciously played with the silky fur that covered his chest, until she had calmed down.

Then, as if it was nothing to him, he moved her around, softly laying her onto the plush, warm carpet next to the fireplace. 

“Are you all right?” he asked, hovering above her, his thumb lightly gliding along the apple of her cheek. 

“I’m perfect.”

“Perfect? Really? Are you sure?”

The playfulness in his voice made her chuckle, and the slight movement it caused evoked his hardened arousal to twitch promisingly against her.

“Well,” she rasped, fingernails grazing down his side, “maybe not completely perfect.”

He smirked through the shiver her nails had caused, “That’s what I thought.”

But to her great dismay, he seemed to be in no hurry to reach that state of perfection he had so thoroughly hinted at, as he leaned down ever so slowly to catch her lips with his. It didn’t take long though before his craving seemed to grow stronger. Soon he deepened the kiss, his tongue fulfilling what the teasing roll of his hips so far had only promised. But then she could feel it, his hand finally reaching in between their bodies. Yet, it was no time to rejoice because, being the annoying tease he was, he chose to torture her just a little longer, dragging his tip lazily through her folds, pressing it into her entrance only the slightest bit every now and then. 

“Are you really going to make me beg, Your Grace?”

He might have planned on it, she couldn’t tell for sure, but the second his title rolled so pointedly over he tongue, he was done for. With a groan so sinful it caused another blazing wave of heat to shoot through her core, he gave in, sinking into her slowly but all at once. 

The sensation of feeling him, all of him, threatening to overwhelm her, she clung to him tightly, legs closing around his hips just in case he was considering to tease her again. But he didn’t, not anymore. His mind was set on one thing only now, and he was about to drive her insane in the process with his slow, deep strokes. 

All she could feel was him, moving inside her, stirring the fire he had already unleashed once anew, his lips that had found her neck, sucking her soft flesh as his heady grunts and groans invaded her ears. It was everything, almost too much, yet still not enough. 

But the relief came soon, with a single bite to her neck. The sweet sting made her back arch, slightly shifting the angle of his already maddening thrusts and she keened in delight as he hit the perfect spot. Over and over he found it, slowly making her loose all sense of time and space. She needed to touch him, to look into his eyes once more before she would be gone to the world a second time. Her hands reached for him on instinct, cupping his cheeks to lift his head from the crook of her neck and she was rewarded with the most dazzling smile she had ever seen on his face. 

“Are you gonna come for me again?”

Yes, god, yes, she would. Just one more moment, one more languid thrust, one more look at his sickeningly handsome face, those lips, so perfectly shaped, she mused as her thumb traced the pink flesh. With the grin of a famished wolf who was only seconds away from sating his ravenous hunger on his prey, his lips opened and her finger slipped inside. Greedily he sucked it deeper, elation flooding his blue orbs the second he watched her eyes roll back into her head as she satisfied his desire and surrendered herself to euphoria once again.

Through the haze of her high she heard him moan her name, faintly noticed his hand reaching for her own, fingers intertwining before he tightened his grip and allowed himself to join her in her rapture.

His kisses grew soft as their frenzied passion slowly subsided, and with one final brush of her lips and a placid smile he rolled off of her. It was cold in the absence of his body over hers and she shivered. 

“Come here,” he mumbled, offering her the comfortable resting spot on his wide chest and she accepted. Immediately his warmth embraced her. It was peaceful here by the fire, nestled into his side, one arm holding her tight, legs entangled while his lips pressed to her hair. She could have stayed like this forever.

In the silence, the drum of his heart was loud and clear against her ear, strong and steady beats underneath her fingertips, seemingly unfazed by what had just passed between them. And it was in this very moment the realisation hit her harder than it should have, leaving a touch of nausea in her stomach.

But what had she expected? That he would be deliriously happy? That he would fall in love with her just because they had shared this insignificant moment of passion? She was such a fool.

She must have stirred in his arms, drawing his attention to her agitated state unintentionally.

“What’s wrong? Are you cold?”

Her first impulse was to go with it or simply act as if there wasn’t a single thing burdening her mind, but even now that whatever they had was officially over, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.

“No. I’m just so…disappointed.”

“Ouch. That’s a first,” he huffed, the wound in his words unmistakeable even though he tried to hide it behind a crooked smile.

“Not in you.” Idiot, she would have liked to add. But that would be unfair since the only idiot in the room was she. “In myself.” And with that she sat up.

He followed her example immediately, pushing himself up onto his elbow.

“What? Why?”

“Because I did the one thing I vowed never to do.” She couldn’t stand the confusion on his face any longer, honest or fake, she needed to turn away and burry her face in her hands. “Oh god, I really did sleep with the enemy in the end.”

The low chuckle that followed felt like a slap. A well earned one, that much was clear. She should have known he would attempt to lure her under his spell and fuck her brains out so she would give up her silly war and let him have his way with Brandon Manor, and she had made it so easy for him. She hadn't even tried to resist him.

“Did you though?”

His answer startled her and she needed a moment to process his words.

“Well, obviously,” she snapped over her shoulder, “or are you telling me you are not the Duke of Suffolk?”

“I’m sorry to say I am.” He sighed, and his scorching breath rolled over her shoulder like a warning. Still she flinched when a second later his lips pressed to the very same spot in a soft kiss. “But maybe I’m not your enemy.”

“You still want to build this bloody hotel, don’t you?”

Her voice was icy and she hoped with all her might that he would finally take the hint and leave her be before her hand would slip. God knew he could use a little clip round the ear.

“It pains me a little to admit after all the fun I had bickering with you, but I don’t.” What? He couldn’t be serious. In the blink of an eye she turned around, searching his eyes to see if he was just mocking her, but all she found was the tiniest hint of an apologetic smile on his lips. “And I never did. I made the whole thing up to get back at my old man.”

So he had been lying to her this whole time? The little… She wanted to slap him now more than ever, but then she realised what this actually meant. Brandon Manor was safe. No teardown, no hotel. And as soon as the rage had bubbled up inside of her, it calmed again.

“But you’re still leaving by the end of the month?”

“That was the plan, yes. Other than this old house, nothing is keeping me here.” She felt the sudden urge to avert her gaze, but somehow there was something about the way he looked at her that forced down her first instinct. “But I have a feeling that might be about to change.”

There he sat, right in front of her with that darned triumphant smile on his face, His Snobbiness Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, her sworn enemy, about to worm his way into her heart and there was nothing she could do but sit and watch.

“You know,” he rasped while his fingers trailed along the line of her jaw and made her shiver, “I heard tree hugging is supposed to be very beneficial for the heart. So I think I might give that a try.” His fingertips had come dangerously close to her lips and she was about to open up and let him do whatever he wanted to when they fell away and the suddenly very ceremonious tone of his voice irritated her. “I also still have the duties of a duke to fulfil, a county to rule—”

“Idiot,” she chuckled in amusement, her palm pressing against his chest playfully to push him further off of her. But he was quick to grab her wrist, his other hand cupping her cheek as he hauled her against his chest again. 

“And a few peasants to vex.”

His kiss wasn’t like any other kiss they had exchanged tonight. It felt easy, free of all the tension and silent doubt that had been hovering above them this whole time. This, right here, right now, was heaven.

She was still smiling when he stopped to look at her again.

“What? Did you think you would get rid of me so easily?”

“Oh, I’d never count myself that lucky, Your Grace.”

The boyish grin on his lips died away suddenly, making room for a hunger in his eyes she didn’t find there for the first time tonight.

“You know,” he growled dangerously lowly, “you really should go easy on the Your-Grace-thing, at least if you ever want us to get to that village council meeting you lured me into in exchange for that dance.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” slowly she leaned in, her cheek brushing along his until her lips found his ear in a whisper, “Your Grace.”

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[pix-writes]

Rising Tides | Series Masterpost

Ezra x F!Reader | Ezra & Cee (family) | Prospect (2018) | Hunger Games AU 

Rating: Explicit (minors DNI | this blog is 18+!)

main masterlist

Summary: The Quarter Quell is almost here. There is a tension that cannot be abated, riots seem inveitable in the wake of the 74th Hunger Games victory tour. Two kids have added the much needed fuel to the Rebellion’s flames and now Ezra must cling tighter than ever to the people he loves dearly, or else lose them to the might of the capitol...

Warnings: This series will be canon typical (check out the book series content warnings HERE), but please see individual warnings on each installment | This series will also contain smut | 

Ao3

Prelude

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (TBD)

other series posts:

ezra moodboard

reader moodboard

(Credit to @fireflygraphics for the mockingjay dividers!)

[milky-aeons]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

౨ৎ  . . . he's always been cocky. It was that self-righteous bravado JEAN KIRSCHTEIN had which drew you towards him in the first place, like a moth to flame, too curious to look away. It was your own damn fault for getting burned.

warnings: swearing, sexual content, emotional dysregulation, reader is bad at feelings, Jean is no better, enemies to lovers, mdni, w.c 3.9k

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, at first.

A mindless curiosity. If you were being honest, what really piqued your initial interest in Jean Kirschtein was that ridiculous way he wore his hair.

At least, that was what you liked to tell yourself. On those nights where his golden eyes wouldn't leave your mind while you tossed and turned. Feeling your body heat, your skin stretching too taut across your bones, aching.

It had morphed into something more mind consuming, more tangible, at a speed and stealth you couldn't keep up with. You were always a woman who liked to have a decent reign on her emotions. In a world like this, where you had all been thrown into war and shattered beyond repair, it took only the strong to pick themselves back up and keep going. For so long, that had been your only objective. To keep moving. To never stop, to make it to the other side.

And here you were. The Rumbling had decimated over eighty-percent of the world's population, was the number plastered across every newspaper in Eldia. You had made it. There was no reason to push it all away now in favour of those survival instincts. And in its wake, all your thoughts left untouched, those feelings left unfelt, came roaring up to the surface with a one sure goal of swallowing you whole.

You were going insane.

The first time you had saw him since the War broke out, you almost did not recognise him. Standing there at a newspaper stall at such towering height. He rose above any other male around him.

When you were teenagers, you used to delight in the blush that raced across his cheeks when you teased him about his silly undercut, how it reminded you of the mane of a horse. He would splutter, like a wounded thing, and shout at you in a high, offended voice. You would laugh, and laugh, until his tanned skin coloured the same shade as the roses you collected in your basket.

Back then, you were just an ordinary towns girl, making fun of a trainee soldier because you thought them all the same. Stuck up, boorish, common things for a youth to entertain. You never knew about the frequent encounters you would soon find yourself with the soldier who graduated in the 104th's Top Ten. Who, despite everything he boasted, joined ranks with the Survey Corps and ventured where you could only hope to dream. Who would bump into you on quiet, serene nights as you returned from the flower fields, and offer you a suave smile.

"Never thought I'd see you again. You're still goin' round with those flowers in your basket, huh?"

"Indeed, I am. Would you like me to fashion you a flower crown? It would do well to hide that ridiculous haircut you seem to still wear."

The boat rocked against the lull of the waves. Your vase skidded across the wooden worktop, and you gasped, holding it in place.

You had become distracted, again.

Being one of the best florists within all three walls, and after taking up the family business as your father's prodigy, you were not surprised when a group of militants showed up at your studio a few days hence. Informing you of a campaign to visit the nation of Marley, and that your services would be of great use. Many ceremonies, they had said, a great many. We could use a florist's touch such as you.

And that was the day you saw him again. At the newspaper stand. His hair was longer, his eyes sharp and always cunning. From your workroom here on the boat destined for Marley, you were certain the smooth baritone of his voice had become one with the walls at this point, you seemed so fixated on it.

Insane. That man was driving you insane.

Huffing, you picked up a smooth satin ribbon from your sewing box and fashioned it around the bouquet you had taken longer than usual to put together. The first of many you had been asked to create for a cordial tea that was scheduled for when you first arrived there. Bittersweet, for truth, Calla Lily, to show justice, sharp pops of colour from Gladioli, for strength of their new nations. You sat back in your chair and regarded the arrangement.

It was the need to speak to the Commander about the debrief of events that sent you standing from your chair and meandering down the ships hallways in search of your company. It was not because the soft tongues of pollen from the lilies were just the same shade as his watchful, watchful eyes.

"Excuse me," You spoke after knocking on the door of the main cabin. Armin Arlert's cordial tone beckoned you inside.

All of the main players of Paradis' military were gathered around a small tea service; the Commander and his partner, Annie Leonhart, along with the strong presence of Reiner Braun, sitting at the round table. Armin smiled warmly at you when you introduced yourself into the room with a small bow.

He, was furiously fixing his long hair in the reflection of a wall mirror in the corner of your vision. You refused to look his way. Out of sheer stubbornness, you would not. To prove something to yourself, you would aptly ignore the soldier.

Yet you did notice how his comb suddenly froze in mid air when you entered the room.

"Miss [Name]," Armin greeted. "Can we help you with anything? Is everything to your liking?"

"Everything is just perfect, Commander." You said, smiling warmly. "I have come to tell you that I... have been within two minds about what flowers I should use for our opening ceremony. Would strength imply hostility to the already wounded Marley nation, if I were to use Galdioli?"

Armin tilted his head to the side, his golden hair sliding across his forehead. "Hm. No, I think it's good to be a bit bold, actually. I'll trust your judgement on it, [Name]."

You were surprised that you had asked such a convincing question, after coming to the cabin on a shaky basis. Feeling his eyes on you through the mirror, your cheeks pulled into a tight smile, and you were just about to thank the Commander, when—

"All this talk about flower crap, what ones to use, what ones to stick in your hair," Jean Kirschtein's voice piqued up, and you roiled at the way it slinked across your skin, how it called all your senses to high alert. He chuckled in a smooth timbre. "Really, [Name], you haven't changed a bit."

Stiffly, you slowly turned your posture until you could fully face the soldier in the corner of the room. He had gone back to his task of combing those auburn locks to sit neatly swept, his eyes not looking at you.

Connie Springer, who had previously been leaning out of the cabin window, turned to his comrade with an accusing face. "Says the guy who's been fixin' his damn hair the last hour. What are you even doin' that for, huh?"

In his reflection, you saw how Jean's lips stretched into a cheeky, heart-breaking smirk. It made the flutter of your pulse hum erratically, made every sharp remark you wanted to throw at him bottom out from your mind.

"Because," Jean boasted. "I gotta look good for all the Marley ladies we're gonna bump into, don't I?"

And just like that, your heartbeat stilled in your chest.

It hadn't occurred to you until then, how acutely tangible that feeling inside you had become for the golden-eyed soldier. When it had made that shift from curiously interested to all-encompassing, ravaging, when it had become a need of yours to have him in every way you could. And standing there in the doorway of that small cabin, on that boat destined for Marley, you had felt the weight drop deep against your shoulders.

You were in love with Jean Kirschtein.

It was a barrage of emotions, one coming in torrents after the other. Shock. Longing. A foolish, giddy elation. And then; anger. Brewing, boiling, furious anger.

You were in love with Jean Kirschtein.

"Miss [Name]?" Armin called you softly, his tone edged with concern. You blinked, coming back into the room, only to realise that every pair of eyes were gazing at you curiously. "Are you feeling okay?" He ebbed.

An impressive reign on your emotions you had, indeed. But these emotions were never there before — and you had realised that, all this time, this is what had been trying to rise up and swallow you down. Yet anger, you were familiar with anger, you could shield yourself with that and use it to escape, just like you have always done.

"Yes—Yes, I am quite alright," You smiled, but it was razor-sharp. Then, directing it at him, the man of all your desires, you said, "I have heard there are some interesting technologies in Marley, Kirschtein. One of them namely being the light camera. Perhaps, you should ask them to take a photo of your face, so you can stare at it as much as you want."

Jean's honey eyes went wide. Connie coughed, which turned into a deep throng of laughter that had him falling from the window and into a chair. Perhaps his comrades had joined in on the chortling too, but you did not stay long enough to find out. The moment the sharp words left your tongue, you had whirled around, shutting the cabin door behind you.

The scent of the Calla Lilies were sweet and cloying, and even as you cradled your face in your shielding hands, their pollen still found a way to reach you. Dizzying, half-maddening, just like your thoughts as they spun without mercy in your mind.

You loosed a breath and leaned up so your hands, still clasped, pressed against your mouth. You could feel each pound of your heart, as if it were a hummingbird trapped in its cage within your chest. Any moment now, you were sure it would burst free and fly far, far away. You wished it would. In fact, you wished you yourself could just burst into a thousand little pieces and soar through the cabin window and be scattered within the waves if it meant you did not have to feel like this.

Hot. Angry. Yet scared, upset, mortified at yourself and how you had exploded at him. He—Jean, he did not deserve such remarks. He did not deserve how you had taken your insecurities and made them into swords to fling back at him. Of course, you knew this, and that rational tender part of you wished to corner him in some private area of the ship and apologise. Another part warred with that thought, wishing to grab him by the lapels of his brown suit and shake him back and forth, screaming, furious that he was eliciting such feelings from you.

And yet, a smaller side of you, a dangerous, heated area of your heart also wanted to grab hold of his lapels, but only to rip and rend them from his body. Exposing his smooth, strong flesh that he held himself so proudly with underneath—

You stood up with the intention to pace around your room until you could will yourself to calm down.

That was when you heard the thundering footsteps outside.

They were quick. They were determined, rapping against the wooden floorboards that connected all corners of the ship. Startled, you felt every inch of you still, your senses on sudden high alert. They were close by. Were they coming from—?

The door to your work room suddenly flew open, the force of it strong enough to crack the door against the wall as it did so. And there he stood on the other side of it in all his maddening glory, his large hand outstretched from where he had impacted, his shoulders moving up and down with effort. Before you could even protest, Jean had invited himself into your quarters and slammed the door behind him.

His eyes, wild and stern, found you and locked you in place. Rudely, he jutted his finger in your direction and spat, "Just what the hell is your problem, huh?"

So taken aback at the sudden intrusion of the man you had just been agonising over now standing here, panting and furious in your bedroom — it had taken a second for your mind to really catch up. But when it did, your first reaction was obvious defence, causing you to straighten your spine and gawk at him.

"I beg your—!"

"Oh, don't fuck with me, [Name]. I think it's time we sat down and had this damn conversation." Jean snarled, the muscles in his cheek jumping as he spoke. "Ever since we were kids, you've had this weird hate against me, and I've never understood why. The hell have I ever done to you, hah?"

Heat was quick to rise up the column of your exposed neck and onto your cheeks. He was angry, you could see it in the way his eyes blazed, his broad shoulders bunched and tight. You mirrored him, your eyebrows knotting at what he had just said.

Hate him?

"Don't be dramatic, Kirschtein. I've never—!"

"Oh yeah?" He goaded, his expression mocking. "Bullshit. What was that back there, then? Or yesterday? Or at the newspaper stall before we left? Is that your weird sycophant way of being nice, or are we just living in a backwards world all of a sudden and I didn't get the memo?"

"We've always mocked each other, that doesn't mean I hate you—!"

"Well you damn well make it believable, sweetheart—"

"Will you please, just, calm down for a moment—"

"And you've been more prickly than usual, these days! Getting all riled up over things you usually don't, hell—you won't even fuckin' look at me anymore!"

"Well—that—that—!"

"If I've fucking done somethin' to ya, have a damn back bone and say it to me!"

"Jean—"

"And another thing—!"

"For the love of the Walls, it is because I am in love with you, you foolish man!"

The silence that cut into your argument was so deafening, you could almost hear it ringing in your ears.

Whatever angry words were about to leave Jean's open mouth died on his tongue. It almost looked as if they had been forced right back down his throat, he looked so strangled for air.

None of you dared say a thing. The only sounds that existed within the room was the echo of your laboured, angry breaths, mingling with the sudden inhale of air he took that expanded his chest. He moved his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. His dark brows knitted together. He opened his mouth again.

"What... did you just say?"

It was like a bucket of water had been decanted over your head, shocking you into realising what had passed from your lips. You stood there, dumbfounded, exposed, watching the emotions play across his face. The anger melting into shock, which bled into a distortedly humorous confusion.

He took a step forward, and asked again, "Oi, what was that last thing... you just said?"

"Nothing." You bared your teeth at him. "I said nothing. Get out."

He was eating up the small distance that existed between you two until he reduced it to that of a few steps. On his face there was an expression you couldn't decipher, could not sift through the emotions which held it together. Perhaps the uncertainty of it was what sent you retreating until your back hit the far wall of your bedroom. Perhaps it was the shattering of your defences, your walls you kept up so effortlessly, that fuelled the glare you threw his way when you craned up to see him.

When you saw something simmering in the eyes that haunted you in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, you thought — perhaps it was the realisation between the two of you, that the shift from fun to tangible had taken place long, long ago.

"Leave, Kirschtein." You whispered, but it came out hollow, broken.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning down so you shared breath. "Do you want me to?"

Every aspect of him invaded your senses, made it so frustratingly hard to think, to breathe. With him so close, barely millimetres from brushing your nose with his own as he levelled your faces, you could see the smatter of freckles on his high cheekbones. Could breathe in his scent of musk and sea breeze, quickening your breaths, your pulse. Your fingers clawed into the wood behind, restraining yourself from reaching out to him. Because you were afraid that if you did touch him, that you would never be able to stop.

He shifted to press his hand to the side of your head.

"Do you," Jean murmured, whispering so as only you could hear. "Want me to leave, [Name]?"

Instinct was roaring at you to press into him, crying for a release to an ache deep within your belly that curled low and heady.

Insane. He had already drove you insane.

"Damn you, Kirschtein." You hissed, before reaching up to fist your hands into his stupidly fixed hair and crashing your lips with his.

There was a moment of surprise on his part, as if he wasn't expecting you to be so bold. His lips remained frozen underneath your own, unyielding, a perfect statue of human discomposure. Jean, however, was a never a man who was slow to adapt to any situation, give it in the midst of battle or when the woman he has been pining after for years — who, he was convinced, hated his guts — had decided to smash their lips together.

And this sound escaped from the soldier. Akin to that of a wounded animal, a tortured soul, it rumbled down your throat and you swallowed it greedily. Jean's hand flew to cradle the side of your face, pushing back against your kiss, his fingers steepling into your hair and craning your neck back. Your shared kiss started off as something chaste and unsure — releasing each other before coming back for longer, scared to stop for too long lest they woke up and realised it was all a dream.

Jean grew impatient, he grew desperate for you. In one movement he had snaked his hand behind the small of your back and hoisted you against him — almost short-circuiting at the feel of your body pressed so close, like he had thought about so damn frequently. Every time you passed him, every time he watched the strong swish of your hips as you walked through the market on a sunny afternoon. He'd bite his lip, he'd put his fist in his mouth, anything to distract himself.

But this — right here, right now. This couldn't be real.

And yet, he wanted more. He needed more, he needed you.

A moan tore up your throat when he tilted your head just right to deepen the kiss, his large hand fitting to the back of your neck. You felt his tongue explore your mouth, eager and willing, so ravaged at tasting every part of you. It occured to you that you needed his tongue on other areas of your body. Between your breasts, your thighs, you needed to fist your hand in his hair and tell him where to go.

You let out a small shriek when he suddenly hooked two hands underneath your thighs and hoisted you up against the cabin wall.

The ship rocked as you clawed at one another, unravelling folds of clothing and facets of bravado until you were just two souls, two humans, who had survived it all and were allowed to live, without fearing that tomorrow could be the last. He had fisted the ribbons of your working dress in his hands and ripped them in one pull. You gasped when the air slid across your smooth skin, now exposed, hidden behind nothing but a camisole that peaked where your taut nipples were.

Suddenly, Jean paused. He stared at you as if he were seeing you again for the very first time.

"Fuck," He gasped, holding you tighter, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your sensitive thighs. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm—do you—?"

You grabbed the knot of his tie and pulled him back into you, kissing him with a wild, chaotic passion that caused him to unfold underneath your fingertips.

It was in that chaos that he held you up fluidly to his body and walked you over so he could splay you against the work table — where the lilies and gladioli and bittersweets lay. He had shoved them somewhere off to the side, muttering something about stupid damn flowers and how they were always in his way.

And you had laughed. In that way which Jean secretly adored, as it upturned your eyes and made them crease at the sides. Like little curving moons in the night sky.

He shucked off his suit pants in a flurry of clumsy movements, palming at your breasts hungrily as he did so. You were driving him half mad with how good you looked, you smelled — fresh daisies and honey, intoxicating him, making his head spin. He splayed his entire hand onto your stomach and asked;

"You sure?"

Something broke inside of you at his vulnerable expression, always the gentleman. You sucked you lip between your teeth and nodded your head, adding, "I believe I will go insane if I cannot have you."

"Well, that makes fuckin' two of us."

The first stroke of him inside you was incomprehensible.

The second ignited your nerve endings and made you bow up and off of the desk, pulling you taut like a bow string and releasing you when he pulled back. There was something harmonious in the ryhtmn you two found, Jean keeping a hand on your stomach while he pushed into you hard and fast. At one moment, he lifted your leg underneath the knee and spread you wider, groaning ferociously as he buried to the hilt.

He kept going until he had fractured your universe. Until the little spots in your vision were like constellations. He was placing tender kisses along your body when you came back down to him, so raptured by pleasure it was hard to move. You could feel the pulse of him still inside you and he too, rode his release.

He swept your hair from your shining forehead and placed a long, lingering kiss.

"I said," You panted, leaning up to nip at his bottom lip. Oh, but you will have him again, and again, and again, until you made no use of your legs and the boat docked on Marley. Perhaps you would not even leave this room. Perhaps they would have no flowers for their ceremonies, after all. "That I dislike your hair even more that way, I'll have you know."

Jean's honey coloured eyes — dazed with pleasure — flickered to you when you said those words. Then, he chuckled, and you felt it vibrate against your chest and deep within your heart — where he had been, all this time.

He leaned down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck and said, "I love you too, idiot."

[birdstooth]

February Happened (FIC RECS)

A few doodles I that don't hate, made for fics that I totally love!!

(Since there is a 30 image cap on desktop I had to leave some panels out, and couldn't include all the fics :( but you can find everything with a doodle HERE!)

WE FOUND KITTENS! - based on "Stop All the Clocks" by @charnelhouse

Idiot Sandwich - based on chap XV of "The Lion's Mouth" series by @rustytricycle

Kill each other!! - based on chap IX of "Hue and Cry" series by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

BUNNY & CLYDE - based on chap 4 of "Closer to Heaven and Closer to You" series by @georgiapeach30513

They're good boys!! - based on part 1 of "Memory Served" series by @secretswiftymarvelfan

Weapons Training - based on "To Let You Win" by @delaber

Pearl Heist - based on "My Pearl" by @imyourbratzdoll

Dress Rehearsal - based on "The Truth Will Set You Free" by @navybrat817 (several panels cut for spoilers haha)

"She Wants to Order" - based on the Epilogue to the YHHMSGM series by @thenhewaswrongaboutme (maybe start at chap 1 tho lol)

"Expectation vs. Reality" - based on chap 1 of The Graceless by RichieVonDoom on AO3 (@clarkcvnt on Tumblr)

dividers by @fireflygraphics

[writing-good-vibes]

saying don't be afraid

the first michael cenric fic that i have written !! based on some not very original takes about what the shape is exactly. divider by @/fireflygraphics. WARNING for mentions of murder, child abuse, medical abuse, mental illness and other such angst.

By the time his parents arrive home, the Shape had retreated back into the snug little recess of Michael's mind that it usually dwelled in. Only then, with the warm fog lifted from him, did Michael feel the bitter chill of the October breeze on his skin, cheeks flushed rosy and nose starting to run with the cold. His hands are sticky and his fingers, barely able to wrap around the hilt, clench tighter.

There are strong hands shaking his shoulder and he can hear his mother scream inside the house.

Smith's Grove say they want to help him. Loomis wants to expunge whatever it is that is inside him. His parents stop visiting and he doesn't know why.

Loomis, exasperated as always, talks to Michael in a one sided conversation. "Why?" he asks. Over and over. Michael doesn't know why, not yet anyway, the Shape hasn't told him yet. The Shape keeps a lot of secrets, but Michael doesn't mind. The Shape will tell him when it's good and ready to, Michael thinks. The shape always seems to know what it's doing; Michael decides he doesn't want to know yet.

An echo chamber encapsulates them, and it's all Loomis' doing.

The Shape told him to stop talking, because Loomis wasn't listening anyway. He hears the shape more than he sees it. He only catches glimpses of it, usually, in the corner of his eye. He's learnt not to react, because people don't take that very well, but he likes knowing the Shape is there. It makes things easier. Slowly, Michael stops speaking and soon enough he stops listening because its not like Loomis ever said anything important anyway. Michael withdraws himself enough that the Shape can get a better view. Enough that the Shape can take over for him sometimes, when the meds are far too strong or he's been in his cell for far too long and he's so cold and he can't stop his hands shaking and --

The Shape catches him.

Ten years go by and the Shape starts to show itself more clearly to him. Now it's always close by. Michael can feel it and, more importantly, he can see it, in the windows beyond the bars and in the cold, chrome fixtures of Smith's Grove. It still hasn't answered the question - it would answer, Michael thinks, if he asked. But Michael cares less and less about the why these days.

Five more years and Loomis tells him he's being re-tried. Tells him if there's any justice in the world they'll be sending him to Litchfield and Loomis can finally wash his hands of him because by god he'd tried, hadn't he?

The Shape doesn't approve of that; the Shape says, Let's go home and then devours him, submerges him in that soft, safe warmth he yearns for on the worst nights, and guides him all the way back to Lampkin Lane.

Michal is home. The haze of longing covers up the battered window shutters and the film of dust on each and every window pane, even to Michael's long since disillusioned eyes.

Michael lets the Shape do this for him. Because the Shape is all Michael's ever had. It's not the devil, not like Loomis always told him. Loomis never knew what he was talking about. No, the Shape wasn't the devil at all. It's not even evil. It's a part of Michael, the part of him that whispers in his ear and looks after him when no one else does.

It grew and grew until Michael couldn't quite tell where he stopped and the Shape started.

The front door is locked but there's a window around the side of the house that never did latch properly. Inside, every room is empty. Confusion washes over Michael as he stands in the living room of his desolate home. Upstairs is empty too; his bed is gone, so is his sister's vanity table. Haddonfield stretches out beyond the window, identical houses and identical lives and Michael can't pull himself away even as the sun starts to rise and the golden glow of it hurts his eyes after so long in the dark.

Before the exhaustion of 100 miles travelled can overwhelm him, he sees the Shape behind him in his reflection, it push him back into the darkness. Just for now, it promises.

He wakes again with blood on his lips and a sickness in his stomach.

So long has passed and Michael finds his way home, like he always does. Watches intently and tells himself, repeats over and over, that he is really there. Him.

Haddonfield never wanted him, but he is there. He'll find his way home and no one can stop it.

With a knife against his neck, Michael can't see the Shape at all. Can't hear it. Can't even feel it and for the first time in a long, long, long time, Michael is scared.

When Laurie's fingertips, dripping with his blood, brush against his, he can't help but try, as useless as it is, to hold onto her.

Endless nights and twitching limbs and comfort that no one else would give him --

It feels just like falling asleep.

[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 19)

Pairing: Stucky x Inhuman!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Dividers by @fireflygraphics

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist

It’s the night of Tony’s party and you are in your room getting ready. You exit the bathroom after a shower to see a gift box on your bed. It’s wrapped in a blue bow and you know it can only be from two certain men. The note reads “To the most beautiful woman in any galaxy, please wear this tonight. We love you.” Inside you find a beautiful dress. It’s blue and has a style reminiscent of the 40s. You do yourself up and put on the dress. A knock on the door has you grinning as you answer it. 

“Wow. You look beautiful.” Steve says, returning your grin. 

“Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Bucky charms.

“It’s a good start,” you kiss each of them. “I love the dress. Thank you.”

“It looks great on you, doll.” 

The party tonight was one of Tony’s penthouse parties at the tower. Only family, partners, and close friends were invited. After arriving, the three of you made rounds greeting everyone. You’re excited when you finally make it to Sam. 

“Hey Sam! Wanna introduce the beauty on your arm?” you grin widely. 

“Of course,” Sam puffs out his chest as he motions to her, “This is my girlfriend, Kaziah.” He gives her each of your names and you spend twenty minutes or so chatting with all of them. Kaziah is sweet and you enjoy meeting her immensely. You are distracted a few minutes later when Loki strolls in wearing an all black suit. 

“Well, don’t you look like a million bucks!” you hug his neck as he chuckles. 

“You like it?” Loki preens. 

“Very much. You look great. Are you still planning to go back to Asgard tomorrow?”

“Yes. And before you ask, yes, I’m going to tell her.”

“Yay. I look forward to your return and hearing how it went. Can I introduce you around a bit?” 

“Lead the way.” Loki offers his arm. 

You guide him to different groups introducing him, smoothing any ruffled feathers, and making him feel comfortable in the setting. Loki relaxed as the evening passed. You enjoyed yourself, spending most of your time with Steve and Bucky, dancing, eating, drinking, and having fun with your friends and people you know and trust. It was fun. 

A couple of hours in, you notice Kaziah sitting by herself on one of the couches. Sam is in a group nearby with Rhodey and a few others cutting up. You grab an extra glass of champagne and sit beside her, holding out the drink to her, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah, there is always that little bit of awkwardness when you don’t know many people.” Kaziah flashes a nervous smile. 

“I understand,” you laugh, “I was basically dropped on the team with no warning, having never met any of them.”

“Wow. But it worked out? You’re dating Bucky and Steve?” She asks. 

“It worked out better than I ever hoped. And, yes, we are in a relationship together. We know it’s not conventional, but we’re very happy.”

“I saw you with Loki earlier. Are you with him also?” Kaziah asks carefully. 

“No. Loki is a good friend and we train together. He’s a really good guy once you get to know him.” You happen to catch his eye across the room and he smiles at you. That’s when you feel the ice pick to your head and immediately open your mind to him. 

“You’re needed in the rooftop garden, darling.” Loki’s voice drifts into your mind. 

“What? Why?” You asked confused. 

“I don’t know. I was just asked to relay the message quietly.” Loki’s chuckle echoes through your head and you grin.

“What was that? It looked like you were having a conversation.” Kaziah asks curiously.

“Oh, nothing,” you answer evasively, “Will you excuse me?”

“Uh, of course.” Kaziah looks confused. 

“It was nice talking to you.”

“You, too.”

You head to the elevator while looking for Steve and Bucky but, not finding them, you shrug and hit the button for the rooftop. Suspicion and curiosity curl in your stomach as the elevator goes up. When the doors open, you notice a trail of petals leading into the garden. You smile as you follow it.

--

Steve and Bucky had spent most of the day of Tony’s party shopping for you. They found the perfect dress to give you fairly quickly but finding the perfect engagement ring had proven nearly impossible. They didn’t know what they were looking for exactly but everything they were shown just wasn’t the one. It had to be perfect. As they visited the sixth jewelry store, they knew time was running out. The proprietor showed them several options but then, recognizing both men, he smiled and kindly suggested they check the antique store next door. He told them his brother was the owner and he kept a beautiful selection of estate jewelry. 

Steve and Bucky weren’t sure what he meant by estate jewelry but since they weren’t having any luck at traditional jewelry stores they decided to give it a try. The owner greeted them immediately and guided them to the jewelry case while offering to show them anything they’d like to see. 

“Buck.” Steve’s eyes go wide as a ring catches his attention. 

“That one? It’s not very traditional.” Bucky asks.

“Neither are we.” Steve chuckles. 

“You’re right about that. And the ring. It’s perfect,” he turns to the owner, “Can we see that one?”

“Of course. It’s one of a kind. I’ve never seen another like it. It came from a family in upstate New York. I thought it was a lovely piece.” He hands over the ring nestled in a small heart shaped box. 

“This is it.” Steve says.

“It’s perfect,” Bucky agrees. 

They paid for the ring and exit wearing grins. Tony had agreed to help them with the proposal and was having the rooftop garden turned into a paradise. Now they just had to get you to the roof and the rest would fall into place. 

--

The trail of petals leads you into the center of the rooftop garden where your men stand with smiles. Bucky and Steve are both handsome in their suits. A small table of desserts and champagne are off to one side. The garden is filled with lights and candles. There are blooming flowers everywhere and you have no idea what is happening. 

“What is all this?” you ask, all smiles. 

“We wanted tonight to be special.” Bucky says. 

“It’s beautiful,” you smile but tremble as nerves set in. What could this be about?

“Doll, we love you. You’re the love of our lives and this relationship is everything we ever wanted. So, we have something we want to ask you.” Steve says. He and Bucky take a knee in tandem and each take one of your hands.

“Will you marry us?” Bucky asks, looking up at you with a grin but you see the fear behind his eyes. You look at Steve and recognize the same expression on him. 

“M-marry? You want to, to ,to get married? To me?” you stammer. 

“Yes.” They say in perfect unison. 

They hold up a ring and you stare at it mouth agape. A star sapphire set in a halo of diamonds. The ring was obviously a vintage piece and it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you’d ever seen. 

“You’re serious?” you breathe as tears flood your eyes.

“Yes.” Bucky says. 

“Absolutely. Please marry us. We love you so much.” Steve says. 

“Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you! Yes! I love you both. So much.” You exclaim as the men surge to their feet and swing you around. When your feet touch the ground again, Bucky takes the ring out of the box and places it on your finger. 

“It’s a star sapphire since both mine and Bucky’s symbol is a star.” Steve explains. 

“Blue because honesty always comes first in our relationship.” Bucky says. 

“Surrounded by diamonds because our love will always surround you.” Steve continues. 

“And antique because you’re marrying two old men.” Bucky chuckles. 

You laugh but stare at the ring that they chose with admiration, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Let’s toast to our engagement.” Bucky goes to open the bottle of champagne. The three of you share champagne, strawberries, and cake as they tell you about how they decided to ask you and their day of shopping to find the perfect ring. 

You stare at it saying, “I never thought I’d get married again. I just assumed in this relationship we’d just be together.”

“You are okay with getting married, right?” Steve asks. 

“Yes! I want to marry both of you. I guess it will be more of a commitment ceremony since we can’t legally get married,” you explain.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about it and I think you and Steve should get married legally and we can have a commitment ceremony for the three of us. There would be a lot of protection for you in being Mrs. Rogers.” Bucky states. 

“I’m… I won’t be changing my name. I never did with Charlie.”

“You don’t have to. Bucky, you hadn’t said anything about this before. Are you sure?” Steve asks. 

“Yes. It just makes sense. If you’re okay with it, doll.” Bucky says. 

“I get it from a legal standpoint but no matter what the THREE of us will be married,” you smile. 

Steve nods, “While we’re on our honeymoon, Tony is going to renovate our rooms into an apartment. We just have to pick a date. We-”

“We can go over all the details later,” you interrupt Steve. “Right now, I’d like to go to our room and celebrate with less clothing on.”

“I love the way you think,” Bucky says as he helps you to stand and kisses you. 

Steve grabs the bottle of champagne and bowl of strawberries, “I’m sure we’ll work up an appetite.” He winks and kisses you. 

You can’t keep your hands off each other in the elevator and find yourself sandwiched between the two men with their lips wandering over every expanse of exposed skin. You stumble into the guest room the three of you are staying in and gasp. The room is full of flowers, a small table covered in candles and food, another bottle of champagne, three fluffy robes with your names embroidered on them and matching slippers, a wedding planning book, and a note of congratulations from Tony and Pepper. 

“This is so sweet! They are so thoughtful.” you exclaim. 

“They definitely know we plan to work up an appetite.” Bucky chuckles. 

“We should get to it. Unzip me?” you whisper. 

“My pleasure.” Bucky complies and gently guides the dress down for you to step out of it. You’re wearing a beautiful lingerie set complete with garter and heels and both men devour you with their eyes. You sit on the end of the bed, lean back on your arms and cross your legs while eyeing the two. 

“Naked. Now,” you say playfully. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky grins as they shuck their clothing quickly. When both stand before you gloriously naked you look them up and down, licking your lips. You go to them and put a hand on each of their chests before lowering yourself to your knees. You stroke both of their cocks and take turns swirling your tongue around each of their heads. 

“You’re both so good to me. I love you so much. I love fucking both of you.” You make comments each time you switch between them and they’re both looking at you with a feral expression as you praise and tease them. 

“Fuck, doll.” Bucky says as he grabs you and pulls you to your feet, “Get up here.” His mouth claims yours and Steve is behind you in an instant, removing your bra, cupping your breasts and kissing your shoulders. You feel his hard length pressed to your ass and Bucky’s pressed to your mound. You moan loudly as their hands and mouths wander over you, divesting you of your lingerie.. 

“I… I want to try something,” you moan. 

“Anything, sweetheart. What do you want?” Steve asks with his lips against your neck. 

“I want you both inside me. Both inside me at the same time.” You say breathlessly. 

“You mean, both of us inside your pussy, doll?” Bucky clarifies. 

“Please. Want to feel all of us together.” You whimper. 

“If it’s too much, you have to tell us, doll. Don’t let us hurt you.” Steve says as he picks you up and carries you to the bed. “Promise?”

“I promise.” you agree as he lays you in the middle of the bed. 

“Fuck, that’s hot. I want inside you so bad.” Bucky groans from behind you, both men are flush against your front and back. He pulls your leg up and runs his fingers through your slick folds. He dips two fingers inside to ensure that you’re ready. A third finger is added and you moan loudly. 

“Bucky, please. I need you. Please!” You beg. 

Bucky’s head finds your entrance and slowly presses in. You stare into Steve’s eyes as you grab Bucky and encourage him on. Bucky thrusts into you a few times languidly, working your pleasure and coating himself in your slick. “Come on, Stevie. Our girl’s ready for you.”

Steve slides his cock against you to coat himself before slowly pressing his head in. You gasp at the sensation. 

“Okay?” Steve groans. 

“Yes, it’s good. Don’t stop.” you moan and then cry out as Bucky gives a gentle thrust. 

“Fuck, baby, feeling both of you is so hot.” Steve groans. 

“Then don’t stop. Keep going, please.” You whisper. 

“Move, Stevie. We need it.” Bucky groans. 

Steve presses in by millimeters and keeps checking in. You feel so incredibly full and the pleasure is immense. When Steve stops again, you begin to roll your hips, loving the friction of feeling both of them in you. 

“Oh, fuck.” Bucky moans as he takes a gentle bite out of your shoulder. 

“I can feel both of you. Fuck, it’s so hot.” Steve says as he begins to move with you. 

Your moans mingle as you cling to each other and writhe in pleasure. 

“Oh, God. I’m…” the words fail you as your body shakes with the orgasm. The intensity nearly takes your breath and once it subsides you feel it immediately begin to build again. 

“You’re trembling and clenching so tight, doll. You’re so fucking perfect for us. So perfect. Fuck, can’t believe we found you. Love you so much.” Bucky groans as he begins to move a little more quickly. 

“Buck! Can feel you. Feels so good. You both feel so good. Want it to be like this forever.” Steve moans. 

You’re trembling uncontrollably. The words, the men, the intense pleasure are enveloping you, body, mind, and soul. You cry out as you fall over the precipice again. Your body shudders and your hips move of their own volition. 

“Oh, fuck. Fuck.” Bucky groans as he releases inside of you.

Steve’s hands cup your face and he kisses you intensely before his own orgasm overtakes him and he presses his forehead to yours. As he comes down from the high, he whispers to you, “Bucky’s always been right about you. You’re perfect for us.”

“You are. You’re perfect for us.” Bucky says, wrapping an arm around both of you.

You lift your hand and look at the ring that sparkles on it, “We’re perfect together.”

Part 20

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series are made twice a week. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​ and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[gemstone-roses]

Nightmares

Professor Remus Lupin x Professor Reader

Summary: after an incident with some 5th years leaves your living quarters destroyed, dumbledore has you sharing with the handsome professor lupin.

Note: this blog is 18+ and so are all my works, including the sfw ones, if I find a minor interacting with any of my works or blog then they'll be blocked instantly.

-I've had a shitty week okay😤.

Warnings: nightmares(reader) ,panic, crying, comfort, gender neutral (I think).

Divider by @fireflygraphics

"I'm afraid it's not very big" remus chuckled, running his hand through his hair.

You looked around at his living space, it was cozy, a bookshelf with books piled everywhere but straight in the corner, a small fireplace, crackling, providing light to the dark room, Gryffindor colours were scattered throughout the room.

"It's okay remus, it's nice"

He chuckled nervously at you

"um, I'm afraid, I only have the one bed, so I will take the couc-

"You will absolutely not! This is your room, I will take the couch!"

"but-

"No remus, seriously I don't mind" you pleaded.

Remus sighed, he was trying to be a gentleman

The light from the fire highlighted his handsome face, he looked good, the glow of the flames making him look flushed.

"Do you want some tea y/n?" he smiled

"ooh yeah go on then, please" you said, you plopped down on the couch that would soon be your bed. You cursed the students who had been messing about with spells next to your room, causing a serious amount of destruction.

Remus was the first person you'd really grown close to since you started, he spotted your worried looking face from across the great hall and immediately began making you feel comfortable at hogwarts.

You enjoyed his company a lot, he offered to show you around properly but you had a feeling he had some inside knowledge of the layout.

"here you go" he said handing you a mug.

"thanks remus" you smiled

"Not a problem, I've got a bit of marking to do, but I'll give you some space, I'll do it in the study just give me a shout if you need anything" he gave your shoulder a squeeze as he got up and gathered his papers.

You sighed as you lent back into the couch, wondering, contemplating, your life before hogwarts wasn't easy, and you struggled to truly feel like you belonged here, but the handsome defense against the dark arts professor had done his best to make you feel at home here, you almost thought he could sense it.

You drank your tea-which was very good by the way, and began arranging the cushions to make a pillow, it was getting dark and the fire had died down to a simmering pile of ash.

Remus popped his head out of his study with a pile of blankets, it looked like he'd tried to fold them and failed.

"Sorry I-I haven't got a spare quilt" he said chuckling, handing you the pile

"That's okay, I can just cast a heating charm if I get cold" you reassured him

"Thankyou remus, I'm so sorry for invading your space like this-

"Nonsense, I don't mind at all, I'm glad of the company if I'm honest, just let me know if you need anything okay? I switched with Minerva so I have one patrol of the castle to do but I'll cast a silencing charm so I don't wake you Goodnight y/n!" he smiled

"Goodnight remus" you said as he headed out to wander the castle.

You grabbed a couple of blankets and wiggled around to get comfy.

You woke with a start, panting, shivering, shaking, sitting up you clutched the blankets tight and shuffled to the end of the couch.

"Did I wake you y/n?" a low voice asked behind you.

"N-no" you croaked out

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing remus, go to bed" you sniffed.

You felt the couch dip behind you as he sat on the edge

"lumos" he muttered

You turned away from the source of light

Remus put his wand on the table

"y/n, look at me" he said gently, placing his hand on the side of your face, tilting it to face him.

"y/n" he whispered

His eyes filled with concern at the look of pure terror on your face, your breathing was still heavy, his hand held your face

"I-I,- remus-" you breathed out shakily

"Hey, it's okay, keep your eyes on me okay, breathe y/n, breathe" his voice was soothing, calming, his eyes never left yours as he tried to calm you down.

"That's it, good, there you go" your breathing slowed as he talked you through it, a few tears ran down your face.

He used his thumb to wipe them away, you looked at him and he looked so pure and your eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you with a reassuring smile and you sobbed

"Hey, come here" he pulled you into him, as his arms wrapped around you and he held you tight.

"Shh, its okay, I'm here, your safe, okay love, I'm here" he comforted as you sobbed into him.

He held you for a while, until your sobs died down into sniffles.

"Come on, let's get you to bed" you tried to protest but he was having none of it as he helped you up and guided you to his room.

You lay down on his bed and he grabbed the covers and tucked you in gently.

"will you stay?" you whispered

"of course I will darling" he kissed your forehead and climbed into the bed next to you, you rolled over and he opened his arms for you to lay your head on his chest.

"Come on love, come here" he whispered as he held you, watching your breathing slow as you finally fell asleep in his arms.

[matchamorphosis]

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄

summary: Lost in the castle's labyrinth hedge maze, two forbidden lovers bleeding in their own heartbreak find each other through the hardships of their sacred love.

pairing: knight!steve rogers × princess![black/woc]!reader

word count: 5.3K divider credit: @fireflygraphics

warnings: 18+ ONLY; smut mention, fantasy elements: fairies, nymphs, etc; betrothal mention, heartbreak, flashbacks, crying mention, death mention, classist mention, this is very detailed and I seem to ramble on and on about descriptions so srry if it gets annoying — MINORS DNI —

song prompts: this was kinda inspired by sleeping beauty so the sleeping beauty soundtrack here! ♡   

contents: m.masterlist. my taglist. library acc. blog rules.

   the drastic heaving in your chest doesn’t die down. 

   In the corner of your tear stricken eyes you pass flower hedge after blooming evergreen hedge. The continuous clack of your stocking heels brings a drastic hysteria amongst the perennial labyrinth maze, which is the only given sound amongst it besides the chirping birds. 

   Bringing its nature-like trickery to life as you rush pass turn after turn. Left and right. The fright and the ache clenches tight in your heart. It keeps your feet running, running away from your terrible fate; but you stop. 

   Tired feet give up and you meet the familiar large fountain your heart always sends you to whenever you feel the universe is against you. Broken sobs and river tears don’t stop, your arms act as a head rest when you throw your body against the ancient stone of the fountain. 

   Alive with its soothing blue water rushing out of the fingertips and harps of the white stone cherubs and cupids. Puffy red eyes meet the malachite lilly pads, the white blush and sunny yellow water lilies bringing the fountains palette together. 

   Those same clouded red glassy eyes dart down to the colorful fish swimming about, the many milky copper butterfly kois and bright orange goldfishes bring soothing music as they swish in the clear blue water while they swim about. A company of sage bullfrogs ribbit along, joining the fountains symphony from a distance you close your eyes and catch your slowing breath. 

    Resting calm upon the grapefruit-turquois pantone, the pounding of your chest has lessened as you inhale the scent of sweet water lilies. An absence of the cold shivers that trembled your bare shoulders is replaced by a blanket of sunshine.

    Body limbs relaxing in feedback at the mazes magic, you always have believed and I mean always as a little girl wandering this here maze that it was magically woven. Perhaps you were a bit tied to the cumulus cloud and sparkly rainbow mentality the maze was testing mother nature and its laws. 

    For the blooming flowers that dot the twelve foot green hedges surrounding you are ripen in color and fragrance always. The ancient marble statues seemed to move their eyes and limbs cheekily if you were to turned your gaze away from them. Not to forget the archaic fountain still working perfectly as it flowed the crystal blue water that tasted sweet as the lemony jam scones you used to smuggle from the skitting rush of the castle's kitchens. 

   Back when you were a mischievous quick handed minx stuffing biscuit after biscuit in your pockets as you socialized with the cooks. Those starlight eyes and rosy smile that would easily get you whatever you please was always enough to distract them as your quick small feet scurrying out of the large noisy kitchens once the pastry bakers noticed the robbery of sweets. 

    These things were brushed off of course, for pastries and baked sweets were always replaceable. For goodness sake you were a tiny princess in need of adventure and amusement that harmless acts such as these were somewhat pitied. As a young princess desperate for a friend to play with in the huge gold laced opulent halls of the castle you had an innocent imagination to keep you company. 

   Enjoying the outdoors friendly scenery instead of the lonely cold shouldered indoors. Where your nursemaids always made you sit down to teach you to be a proper lady, made you attend to the numerous history, reading, and harp lessons that could continue to bore your soul for the next hundred years. 

    Surrounded by numerous flower gardens, man-made ponds, and monumental relics in ivy covered stone; they kept you from being lonely and bored. 

   However, it wasn’t those exact things that kept you from rushing outdoors day after day, but the wondrous beings that lived amongst them that you will soon find were the fae folk.

   The water and woodland nymphs playing hide and seek with you, splashing rose water against your grinning face and magically whirling shrub and tree branches to grab your layered pastel dress hem. Either to keep you from winning (or losing) a frenzy game of knights and thieves or dragon napper. 

   The dazzling sprites acting as storytellers while you played with your porcelain dolls looking at them in awe as they spoke about their realms mythical creatures and tall tales of tame dragons and friendly ogres. 

   The bustling fairies fluttered along with the colourful butterflies and ladybugs, twining together freshly plucked flowers to create a carnation and peony crown upon your luscious locks. Cheekily chatting hysterically amongst themselves about your youthful beauty and your momentous gift to see them. 

   Not to forget the devious pixies that whispered in your ear to ignore your mother's and governesses calling you to come inside at once but to continue to make a mess of your tailored ruffled dresses with your mud cakes and pondweed pies they helped and encouraged you on making. 

   This wild figurative behavior and untidy unroyally actions were no longer allowed as your nursemaids and tutors dragged you back into the nightmare of your reality. 

   Forced you to sit down and focus on the deeds a princess must memorize, complete, and live by. Any outdoor activities were prohibited without any supervision, which you felt drained all the fun so you kept your head down and continued onto the hours upon hours of reading, writing and speech lessons. 

   All until they thought you were mature enough to not act upon “imaginative tendencies” you were allowed back on your horse and even permitted to begin your training lessons. 

   Being busy and now responsible to the importance of your royal duties you did not step back into that maze for years, it almost disappeared from your minds memory. 

   The thoughts and memories of the fae folk were slowly erased that they only appeared in the gold dust and rosy dawned clouds of your dreams. You had serious matters to attend to, and as you grew year after year you did indeed meet various people, most older and some younger but the encounters of potential companions your age didn’t age swiftly. 

     Let us say your imagination has always kept the best of you in the worst situations. Meaning the tales the sprites told you, the games the nymphs taught you and the gossip the fairies and pixies rumored were all considered crude jokes that either rudely amused or offended your potential friends. 

   Yes, you were known as the wild lonely princess from a strong kingdom. 

   The only one who sat alone at the table during a grandiose gala of united kingdoms and countries. Although you won’t lie and say you were entirely lonely, just as much as your studies were important so was your combative training. When you stepped into the baroque training room seven years ago you never knew the person you were forced to see day to day would become your best friend, and eventually lover. 

   As the years went by, your ability to see the fae folk had slipped from your fingertips but you didn’t mind that at all. Just as you heart was twined in the mystic elements of magic and endless wonder you were experiencing a different kind of magic during your passionate adolescent years. 

    For every time you set your eyes on your combat trainer, the infamous Steven Rogers who was rumored to lead seven hundred men on horseback to conquer fiends from overseas. As well as surpassed every young man during the kingdoms prime tournaments by vigorous sword fights and advanced jousting did he earn the title of a knight. 

   Truth be told, as much as those victorious achievements swooned you they didn’t matter at all when you two were alone basking and acting out your forbidden romance. For the man you have fallen in love with was no prosperous king, no wealthy lord, no charming prince but the man who was your escort. 

    This love was eternal like the star clustered sky, endless as the vastly colored tulips in spring. Steve is the only person who didn’t see you as an object, a chess piece to be manipulated and used on the political tiled board. Made it his mission every day to have share a conversation with you, bringing tiny wooden baskets of raspberries to eat while you two speak upon your days. 

   Steven always spoke with a tone as if he wanted to know everything, implored yourself to talk about your dreams, stories, your romantic ideals-- even the fae folk. 

     Finding out during your secret conversations that always were interrupted by delirious kisses and teasing touches did you know instantly Steven was the missing piece to the small princess who cried for someone to understand. Prayed to the stars for someone who’d see you as human however this affair wouldn’t come to the surface and be known. It was improper, disgusting for a lowly common man such as Steve to have any relations with a princess besides acting for his initial purpose.

    As much as Steven Grant Rogers was highly praised in all the kingdom as well as the interested and impressed kingdoms around he would always be the son of an alcoholic chimney sweeper who married an illed woman who both perished before his eighteenth birthday. 

     These titles, these labels hurt you more than they did for Steven; who was passed the regiments of his sad childhood and life as well as the pathetic information used as leverage against him. It wasn’t as significant because he didn’t make it significant but he prides on his past for a low peasant as him is now the kingdom's strongest fighter. He is more than just his unfortunate bloodline of rusty copper coins and patched clothes covered in soot. 

   Earning the right to not be viewed as the sickly orphan boy from the kingdoms now destroyed coal mine towns. Fighting for his title to be a knight of the famous round table he did receive that glory and now Captain of the Knights he leads the kingdom’s strongest men to battle and return with them still alive and victory glowing against their bloody swords and shining silver armor. 

        Receiving medals, medallions, polished silver swords embedded in jewels and finely tailored battle gear by his admirers were nothing. They meant nothing because when he returned to the castle he only wanted to see you, entering the castles secret tunnels he'd sneak in your bedroom as you waited for him after reading his letters. 

   His arrival would make you squeal, giggle and embrace him in your arms while he spun you around holding you tight against him. You know Steven would never be killed on the battle fields but you always felt so relieved knowing he was safe and whole in your arms. 

     Lips connecting you were the key to help him feel and be anything but a war machine, when you would lead him to your grand rose quartz bath chambers. Helping him strip away from his shining brown splattered armor, letting you savor the sculptured muscle of his body as he pulls the laces of your day gown. Adoring your naked body with his firm touch, groping and feeling every curve he fantasized when he was hundreds of kilometers away from you in his tent at night. 

   Allowing you to wash his body away from the enemies blood he shed, savoring the sweet smell of your rosehip bath oils and bubble soaps of honeyed jasmine, crushed lavender. When his large hands would touch and grasp the bodice of your day gown letting it loose falling in a cloth pool around your feet. 

    The scratch of his scruff led cheeks around your mouth was a comfort as he carried into the hot oiled bath. Those days were so tender, so peaceful just as your other encounters. You both thought of thousands of ways to get closer to  each other, all bearing no witnesses except the warmth of his hands on your heat. 

   Slipping from your chambers at night to meet him in the royal gardens, pretending to read a book near the staircase bookshelves at the castles library when he studied battle techniques of hundred of war generals before him, urging him to accompany you as you ride your horse into the town square. 

     Steven was the friend you turned to when you felt most alone. Being your lover who made you feel the pleasure of a thousand stars but also being your deathly plea who is the sole reason why you’re crying in despair against the stone fountain. Oh how you wished to possess the same ivory persona as you were younger, telling yourself it will all be okay. 

   but you can’t. 

   That little princess long ago was too childish, too imaginative, too stuck in her fantasy games and storybooks to get a hold of reality. You were deemed a child that was only motivated by fantasy alignments in your kingdom, for the vast rumors from the castle seem to get out to the subjects. 

    How else do people all around now that you used to play with powdered sugar and insisted it was pixie dust? Surely the pixies told you that but you were happy being amongst the fae folk because they truly adored you and considered you one of their own. 

   Now your magical twine with them has snapped through the years, you aren’t a child anymore but a young woman destined to marry a ruler to keep a peace deal from breaking. 

   Once in a while as you roam the castle or the gardens or the kingdom on your own you can sense something, knew that they were near or about. Just knowing so but as you are forced to sit and have no say in your heartbreaking disaster, you felt truly alone and broken for you had not the strength to speak on your own behalf. 

     you were truly alone. 

   The cold shiver rests on your shoulder and the wave of sadness takes you under its wing once again. However as the tear drop after teardrops fell from your quivering kneeled stature the despaired droplets drip into the fountain, creating a ripple. 

   A hollow hearted sob breaks through your lips and before you could envelope your hands in your face a slight jingle averts your attention, a jingle similar to a chime of a bell. Ignoring it and continue to spew however it rings again and you shoot your head up, another jingle and your turning your head around as to where the bell is coming from. 

    Another jingle and you shoot your eyes to the cause of the charming disruption, pure shock paints your face as you look upon the aquatic pixies dancing from lilly pad to lilly pad. Their pale skin of blues and purples add to the greens and blues of the water and your eyes gloss with joy, for you aren’t that alone as you imagined yourself to be. 

   A smile picking up your once quivering lips you sniff as you greet the pixies with a wave who jingle back at you with a welcome.

    from the middle of the flowery labyrinth maze is a distressed Steve Rogers. 

   Lost in his attempts to save you from running away from him. The guilt and disloyalty filling his lungs with every breath he took, his head looks distraught looking widely from side to side at the multiple pathway options. 

   Knowing he was getting closer to you as he heard your little sobs and sniffs going strong then faint with each step he takes they were gone now. He stands to listen closer but the only thing that returns are the buzzing bees that sip the pollen from the flowers and the chirping birds feeding their young. 

    With a heavy sigh he looks down at the brick stone walkways, questioning if they are driving him closer or farther away from his lover. Memories flash in his mind when these labyrinth mazes were considered knightly challenges to practice the memory and battle strategies. 

   Sighing once again he lifts his head up, eyes widening as he noticed the lined statues that were once in their regular alignment pointing their fingers to one entrance of the maze. Mouth gaping open he doesn’t question any of it as he hurries through the chosen brick pathway. 

    The leathery rubber soles of his battle boots fill the mazes harmonious nature, being passed by a family of hopping bunny rabbits his eyes quirk when they turn left. Curiosity getting the best of him he follows the black and brown spotted rabbits his ears pick up the sound of running water and as he looks into the curved entrance way he is met with yet another large space.

   A large opulent marble fountain in the middle surrounded by the long stone walls of potted flowers and you in the middle of it all crowded by forest animals and what has him breathless, fairies.

     “Your highness?” Steven speaks despite the whisper being under his breath you lift your head up and turn around to see him. 

   His sudden presence has the fawn you were stroking to run to his mother at the opposite end of the exist, the bunnies' squirrels, blue jays, chipmunks, rushing out of the room in a blurring rush. 

   The faeries vanish as well as the pixies and you sit cross armed, he had to ruin everything. 

     Not bothering to glance his way his face heated as a thin layer of sweat mists his face, the creaking of his polished silver armor interrupting the mystic music of the fountain and the cotton tailed meadow animals that poke their heads besides the vast archways. 

   Steve’s body standing under the metal gated arbor covered head to toe in moss and budding blooms of the large open margin. Brow broken and forsaken stature finally sitting up to meet his gaze you are unsure whether you want to run and be twined in his arms. 

   Asking him to take you far away and seal it with a deep kiss or dismiss him and just live on the dreary fate you were destined at birth.

    “Sir Rogers,” you replied, head held high and voice strong and firm by the success of your speech lessons. Ignoring his desperate gaze, his body walks closer but he is still so far away.

     “Your highness, I know I ask much of you, my own words and actions are still making me question my own infer-” his shaking voice is cut off, you don’t bother looking at him anymore. 

   Body turned to the side, swooshing your fingers in the sparkling water as your fingertips gently graze through the fishes backs. “Then dismiss yourself in your own dismay and leave me be,” you retort, your words starkly empty and cold. 

   Glassy eyes not matching the tone of voice you look to the water again and notice the pixies vanished, just making your frown deepen.

    “Your highness I will not leave until I make amends to my mistakes and sins to you.” he speaks, voice soft and honeyed as his whispers to when he would meet you up on your forbidden encounters.

     “Do not humor me with ‘Your highness’ you never were much to speak upon that title in private. Do not humor me now, I wish to be alone.” you mutter, it was never your highness and sir rogers between you and him when I didn’t deal with public matters.

     “Your highness this was never meant to hurt you, this was never supposed to be, I am your servant-” you scoff at those words, is he even hearing himself? 

   Has he woken up this morning forgetting the promise you made to you the many nights before when the arrival of the other kingdom emerged at their draw bridge? 

    “You are my servant?! A servant does not make it his duty to tie his heart and make it one with its superior! A servant does lie to his superior by saying that he loves her enough to take away all her pain because he doesn’t love her!” 

   Crying now just like you did in your sleep last night, knowing you’ll have to spend the rest of your life with a stranger who was equally as forced into this as you. 

     That night made you feel hopeless, so hopeless you grabbed your shawl and escaped through the tunnels that sprawled across the whole castle you managed to sneak successfully into the gardens. 

   Wanting to be alone to plan your escape until Steve stopped your attempts, reminding you of his promise that he’d take you as far away as possible. Take you away that day on his fast steed and start a new life somewhere else, his strong words brought the hope in your tears and you still feel the ghost of his lips as he sealed his vow with a kiss.

    Just as your mind is replaying the night before as well as the other shared nights he is to. From the moment he saw you in the stable as you grabbed your mare and asked to teach you how to ride to pinning you against the carpet flooring of the training rooms as you would practice sword fighting to admitting your feelings on a ball of your sixteenth birthday he is remembering that every good thing he experienced he experienced with you. 

   With this truth his heart plummets as his mind enters the equation, as much as you were his and he was yours all odds were against your love. In no life from now and the one after would he have the right to openly call you his forever without being on the block of the guillotine.

    “I serve you, that is my duty. My duty is to protect you, even if it’s from your own sensibility,” he speaks rather harshly as if he’s talking to a child. Despite it is the opposite of what he wishes to confess his soldier like mind holds his tongue in an iron fist.

     Those insensitive words have you turning your head and body around, standing up to face the man who is only five steps away from you. “What about my sensibility is deemed weak to you?” the honey in your voice is replaced by your statistical fire.  

     “I’ve never said it was weak but it doesn’t lead you to the best of places now does it Princess?” he fires back and your mind is encased in thorns, sharp thorns you want to wrap Steve in and laugh when he pleads for you to let him go.

    That comment however only resurfaces your anguish, washing over the anger tears slips from the corner of your eyes. Strong frown being pulled into a pout you take a shaky breath as you look away from the man who you were so confident to be your unapologetic lover. 

   Steve see’s the shift, the princess who was staring him down with the rage of a thousand men was now crying as she made her way back to the fountain. 

    Wishing he’d bitten his tongue he calls your name yet your back is still faced to him, your eyes stirred against the fountains water. The chimes of the pixies and faeries spark in your ears, ignoring Stevens pleads of your name as your eyes now stare hypnotized at the goldfishes and kois that swirl in the fountains blue. 

   The large space that envelopes the delicately carved stone whirls in a large whirl, a glow shining through the now twirling spinning whirlpool in the fountain it takes your breath away.

        A chime rings in your ears but you understand the language, know the words the invisible pixies and faeries whispering to you. 

        go on dear, jump in. you may finally be happy. 

   They hush and Stevens hand reaches for your own and you allow him to pull you to him.

      “My love, speak to me!” Steven pleads, your glassy eyes returning his brow beaten emeralds that shine with regret and sorrow. 

   Another jingle in your ears as you squeezing his hands within yours, the weight of your betrothal ring getting the way of your fingers being enveloped in Stevens warmth. 

    “They’re speaking to you, aren’t they?” Steven whispers, he isn’t deaf to the constant jingles and chimes that circle the both of you. “What are they saying?” he whispers, looking around cautiously but his fear has you giggling. 

     How can your Steven, your tall strong well built Steven be afraid of childish pixies who thrive on jest? Bending your head down you laugh, your silky cacophony calming the meadow creatures enough to re-enter the garden for your sweet embrace towards the tall man in shining silver isn’t a threat as they thought. 

     “They want me to go with them. I should,” you whisper, feeling the fuzzy paw and soft fluffy tails as the meadow creatures surround you two. 

     Steven stares bewildered at you then down at the meadow animals at his feet, your soft embodiment conjuring all the sweet innocent creatures similar to you. His eyes go to where you stare at, he lets out a gasp when he sees the fountain now, the marble carved cherubs and cupids blinking back at him as a shimmering aquamarine whirlpool swirls restless in the portion of the radius. 

      “No, no you can’t leave! Don’t leave me-” Steve breaks yet its stopped by you grabbing his face in your soft hands pressing your rose painted lips against his thin pink. 

   Pulling you closer you seem so far away from him, your minds plans not corresponding with his realistic manners but that only encourages his firm caressing grip on the underside of your jaw and neck.

    The soft chatter of chirping quails to the bustling rabbits and squirrels is faintly dear in the background then you part your lips from his, his hand to your back to keep your faces close. Noses bumping into each other and the soft inhales you two share coming for breath from your heated kiss only has your fingers smoothing the black freckles on his hairless cheek. 

     “Come with me. I cannot live a life like this no more, I can’t live a life were i am forced to feel assured in a destiny I don’t want no part in. If I am to forced to wed someone who isn’t you I-I wouldn’t wish to live!” you sob, your forehead pressing against his your breaking his heart over and over again.

    “Don’t say such thing, you cannot ask me to do this. My love my whole life is here, my mother has passed but my brothers in arm are at my wing. What where to happen if I would leave this life to make another? What were to happen to them?” Steve breaks yet it doesn’t make your tears cease. 

   Steven wishes at night to not be the war machine this kingdom has turned him into but that is the only thing he has purpose in.

    “How can you call me your lover when you cannot live a life with me, to have me be your life? I am miserable here, the only thing that has kept me from dying in my sleep is your promise!” the sob that excludes through your lips is heart shattering in his ear drums. 

   Remembering his own words long ago when he was tangled in the silk sheets of your large canopy bed.  

   “I know what I have promised, but we cannot do it this way. We cannot trust this way-” he mutters yet you shake your head, he’s still thinking with that soldier brain of his. 

    The soldier brain that keeps him up at night and has him trembling in his sleep. Steven is not a war machine, not a pawn piece to be pushed in danger for this kingdoms greedy and selfish antics. Seeing the want in his crystal blue eyes to escape this nightmare just as bad as you is being dragged by the only thing keeping him from being happy, his stubborn pride to never back away and except the goodness he rarely experiences.

     “You swore an oath to me you’d take me away. On the night I gave you my virtue when you confessed your love to me just as I did to you. You promised you’d take me far away from here that I would never have to suffer this life again. Now is the time Steven-” you wail against the metal of his chest, he squeezes his eyes and allows his blistering tears to fall. 

   Warm hands go to your hair, rubbing your shiny locks he turns to the whirlpool still alive and getting brighter with every minute. Pulling you closer he won’t deny this brilliant chance he only got ahold of in his once in a lifetime dreams that didn’t have end with him bleeding to death on a battle field are you being dragged away by the guards as his head’s locked to the guillotines knowing of your scandalous affair. 

   The crowds cheering for his beheading and your screams as you stare down upon his lifeless headless body bleeding. No, this wasn’t a nightmare but his head is spinning in the wrong turns they may take. All the work and effort to be stopped by the cruel factors of society and life as they know it.

    “W-what makes their world better than ours love? We don’t know their kind, we don’t know of their laws. W-we-” he stammers yet when he opens his eyes he stares at the flying faeries and pixies that over above them. 

   The woodland and water nymphs' playing with the meadow critters and the sprites at your feet talking in a language most foreign to his knowledge. Incredibly breathless at the sight, the beauty and magic so divine he could breath in the serenity and exhale the doubts. 

   Such an involvement seems impossible but he already knows this isn’t a dream even though the hedged garden looked like a page of an oil painting pulled from a storybook he read to himself as a child. Their walking feet take them to the fountain, eyes filled with wonder at the nymphs and sprites jump into the whirlpool letting out giggles and cheerful squeals. 

   Afterwards did the meadow creatures jump into the sparkling pool did they create a splash yet they don’t resurface. Steve pulls you close to him as he pays attention observing the whirlpool as the pixies and faeries fly into it, their trail of glittery faerie dust behind until it settles down. 

   Next did you notice the citrus kois and goldfish shooting up and down from the water as they flapped their fins joining in the whirlpool as the bullfrogs followed suite. Their green and orange bodies being seeped in quickly you and Steven stare in awe at the still operating whirlpool.

    “Are you sure this is what you want?” Steven hushed, carrying your thickly layered dress adorned body within his large arms. Joy fills your chest, smiling dearly at him you cup his face with a single hand making his worried eyes glance in your calm rosy irises.

     “It doesn’t matter, i’ll be forever grateful to know your besides me,” you whisper, softly smiling at that he pulls you into an equally tender kiss before stepping a step closer to the magical fountain. 

     The whiling pool in the large fountain keeps spinning over and over and he takes a step inside the water. If it was possible he was holding you closer in his arms and with a long breath he leaps into the shimmering blue vortex, as you both fall into it the vortex swirls faster. 

    Sucking in the lilly pads and pondweed and any traces of life within the fountain till the fountain itself shines with a bright golden light. The once smooth white marble cherubs and cupids crack with old age as wild weeds envelope their decaying stone figures, the water in the fountain disappearing with the shrinking vortex it combusts into a kaleidoscope of colorful butterflies, ladybugs and honey bees. 

    With the now magicless fountain that once held the dimension of the fae world now rests an old stone fountain covered in vines and moss. 

     No one will know how the rebellious princess managed to escape the castle seige and no one will know where the notorious Steve Rogers disappeared to. However, legend says they now know the forbidden love you two shared and the prosperous life the two will continue to share.

    Happily Ever After. 

   just as your heart wished for.

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