#king arthur x f!reader

[hopeamarsu]

Whumptober Day 17: Hanging By a Thread

Whumptober masterlist

King Arthur (King Arthur: The Legend of the Sword) x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 884

Warnings: Reluctant caretaker, wounds, magical healing, witches, imprisonment, prison cells

Summary: You tried to peer into the darkness to find the man you had been tasked with healing. 

Breaking Point | Stress Positions | Reluctant Caretaker

The cell was dank and smelled like death. Your nose wrinkled involuntarily as you took in your surroundings and shivered when the coldness struck your bones. While the cell wasn’t big, maybe the length of three men lying one after the other, something about the darkness within the cell made it seem larger than life. 

You tried to peer into the darkness to find the man you had been tasked with healing. 

“Tasked with” was a slight exaggeration over the way how the King’s guards had dragged you out of your bed in the middle of the night. The Born King needs to look his best for his execution, witch, the guards had laughed while pulling you through the dark halls and down the slippery steps until you had reached the dungeon. How they knew of your skills was shrouded in mystery, but as reluctant as you were, you wanted to do this and get away soon as possible. 

The more time you spent hiding in plain sight and hanging by a proverbial thread, the more risk you were in. You would deal with the soldiers later, discreetly and hopefully keep your secret contained. 

“You’ve come to read me my final rights? Father, I believe you have no use for any soul of mine.”

The words echoed off the walls, the dark and strong baritone booming in the enclosed space. You twisted on your heels towards the sound and finally saw the figure of a man behind the shadows. Pulling off your hood, you brought the tiny lamp closer to him. The flame provided some light as it illuminated a man sitting on the floor, his back to the wet wall. 

“I’m no Father, but I have been brought here to help with your ailments. Wheter they are for your body or for your soul, you’ll need to tell me that.” 

“My apologies. An angel then.” His eyes, beautiful shade of blue sparkling even in the darkness, widened when they caught sight of your face. They roamed your features while you did the same, allowing time pass leisurely as both of you took in the other. 

The Born King as the guards had called him had a gorgeous face, even under all the blood and bruises. A strong nose over lush lips and strong jaw that made him look far more beautiful for his otherwise rugged features. He had a light beard and mustache, trimmed neatly, and a full head of hair a shade darker than the rest of his body. The hair was pulled back from what you could see in the dim light.

“What ails you, Born King?” You spoke, kneeling by his side. 

“Arthur.”

“Hmm?”

“My name is Arthur, angel. Not a Born King, just Arthur.” His voice was deep, low and powerful. It vibrated pleasantly in your chest as you repeated his words and nodded, smiling softly. “Arthur then. Can you tell me, where it hurts?” 

You could tell by the way his lips twitched he had an automatic response to that, a dirty one perhaps, but the pain that pulled at his sides made his features twist uncomfortably. Your eyes honed on his ribs thoughtfully and you reached out your hand. “May I?” You murmured and he gave a jerky nod, breathing heavily through his nose. 

You pulled on the white fabric of his shirt, unable to hide your gasp when his black and blue midsection came into view. The muscles twitched and rippled underneath the welts and not all the movement was due to the coldness of the night air. He was seriously hurt and judging by the way the dark shapes kept evolving in front of your eyes, it was getting worse by the second. 

Not wasting any more precious time, you placed your fingertips on his flesh, ignoring his sharp intake of breath at the contact. The words your aunts had taught you came to you easily and you mumbled them fast, focusing all your energy on the broken vessels underneath his skin and muscle. You closed your eyes, knowing he must be shocked as your hand began to glow and tendrils of gold surrounded his body. 

You knew it was dangerous, pushing through your limits but as images of his body repairing itself made you keep your hand on his skin. Something ancient joined your efforts and whispered encouragements to you, telling you he was important and he had to be in fighting shape tomorrow. It wasn’t until dark spots began to swim in your vision and cutting off your air supply that you released your hold on him, gasping for air in tandem with him. 

“How…” Arthur looked at his body in bewilderment. “What was that?”

The same ancient voice boomed inside you, warning you to not tell him anything more yet. All will become clear soon and you two will be reunited once more, it told you. Now leave him quickly. The power in the voice held a command you didn’t dare to question it. You got to your feet quickly, shuffling closer to the door of the cell. Ignoring all his questions, you clamped up and banged at the cell bars to rouse the guards.  

You needed to get out of here and Londonium immediately and to the forests to find The Mage.

[thatsdemko]

drought - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: husband!charles leclerc x wife!fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + fingering (f receiving) + minor grammatical errors!

a/n: everyone say thank you to Charles leclerc’s recent photo dump

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

the simulator, the meetings, the practices, the races. it’s never ending exhaustion for Charles as he struggles grappling the seasons horrid start.

he’s thankful to have someone to turn to when times get rough. his lovely wife, you. through thick and thin is what you promised each other, and right now? this was the thin. this was what was starting to tear you both further apart.

Charles spent all his time home at the simulator, or any chance he could, at the factory. you’ve spent dozens of lonely, boring, nights in your shade king size bed.

the picture frame above the headboard is no longer crooked. you’d have time to fix it into place because the reason it fell was the endless nights of sex. the headboard would bang into the wall and eventually the picture, from your wedding night, would either come falling down, or end up sideways on the hook.

it was a reminder of your once thrilling sex life has come to an end. sex was no longer something you both were actively participating in. it was rather you and a vibrator on those lonely occasions.

“headed out?” you ask, picking your head up from your book in your lap. you’d heard his heavy footsteps. his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth searching the right sneakers to wear.

“just to maman’s salon. been awhile.” he says coming into the living room to sit beside you on the couch.

you nod in agreement having not remembered the last time his beautiful brown hair was trimmed. although, you don’t mind the length, and neither did his fans. you’d encouraged him to listen to them, and at the time he laughed. then you showed him why you liked it so much. the ends being tugged between your fingers, ruffled and yanked during sex, he enjoyed the arousal. now, there was no need for it.

“tell her I say hi.” you say, soft smile forming to your lips.

he catches your eyes for a brief second when he looks up from tying his shoes. he takes the quick second to press a kiss to your cheek, “you should come by. maman would love to see you.”

you’d missed pascale. in fact, you missed his whole family. it’d been months since you’d shared a laugh with Arthur, or even held conversation with Lorenzo and his new girlfriend. while you knew the chances were slim to seeing his siblings, you still joined him in the car. it’d been the first time in weeks being in his pista.

his hand dangerously slips across the center console. his thumb strokes the skin your inner thigh that’s exposed from your biker shorts. he’s happy you’ve tagged along, he can’t remember the last time you’ve spent more than two hours together that wasn’t spent sleeping.

“I noticed you fixed the picture above our bed.” he says turning to look at you for a brief second at the stop light. you figured he hadn’t noticed, it was slight change and he rarely slept at home when he had days off. you’re sure he’s seen the toy under your side of the bed if he truly went looking.

“gives you a new challenge again.” you reply back watching the wheel spin under his hands as he pulls into the parking lot. you were finally free from his grip.

he scoffs, putting the car in park, “it was always too easy. it was never a challenge.”

a smirk forms to your lips. your words catching him before he slips out the car, “well you have a new challenge and it’s much better than you’ve been in the past month.”

—

you’re sitting in the chair beside him watching pascale trim the wet ends of his hair. a few fall in his face or around the top of the cape.

she’s happy to see you. in fact, she’s only talking to you the whole time.

she doesn’t notice how you’ve been squeezing your legs together every so often. your one leg is crossed over the other, he sees you shifting in the chair as you answer his mothers questions. he sees how turned on you’ve become watching him.

it’s funny to him. how it’s the most mundane thing ever and it’s got your pussy throbbing for him. all he’s doing is sitting in the chair allowing his mother to cut the dead ends of his hair.

he can tell whatever you were using to get off was not enough. and it was his own damn fault for choosing the simulator or the factory over pleasuring his wife’s needs.

pascale walks away to answer the phone leaving you two alone, and he swivels the chair in your direction, “I did not know this would get you so horny.”

you feel heat spread across your cheeks. you try to pull the neck of the sweatshirt over your face to hide the embarrassment of being caught.

“when we get home—“

“you think I’ll last getting home?” you cut him off before he can propose his plan. his eyes widen, a smirk toys his lips as he shakes his head seeing his mother come back into the room.

“take the keys to the pista, you’re making this hard for me.” he tosses the keys into your lap, “it’s a private parking lot. you can finish what I started.”

“I’m almost done with him. you‘ll be able to go home in no time.” pascale promises and continues to trim his hair. you watch for another couple of minutes and now she’s finally getting ready to blow dry his wet hair.

you can’t watch any longer. you’ve made up an excuse to head to his car and wait out the final minutes. you’ve turned on the air in the car and sat in the passenger seat awaiting his arrival to take you home.

your leg anxiously bounces as you hear him whistling. he opens the passenger door, takes the knob that adjusts the seat, and pushes it as far back as it goes allowing him to kneel in front of your seat.

“Charles what are you doing?” you ask watching him close the passenger door once he’s in. it’s cramped. his head is just inches close to the top of the car, your legs are nearly into your lap and suddenly it’s warm in the car. the air must’ve kicked off after a period of time running.

“taking care of something.” he leans over your lap, letting the back of the seat go as far down as it can. he moves you closer to the edge of the seat, “lift your hips.” he demands and you do as he asks, allowing him to remove your shorts.

“Charles, we can’t do this in your car—“

“nobody is here.” he points out the very obvious. not another car is in this parking lot, and there’s not a single car that has drove down this street since arriving. you were as safe as you could be under the street lights.

“come on, let me treat you right.” he coos, fingers running up and down your thighs, “I did this to you.” he reaches into your lap, fingers toying with the wet material clung to your pussy, a whine threatening at your tongue.

“can I do that? can I touch my wife?”

you nod, unable to speak any words. you push you hips up again allowing him to remove your panties. you spread your legs as far wide as you can. his index finger stretches out across your folds. it’s like a ghost against your skin, you can feel him but barely. a soft whine escapes your lips, you lean back against the seat.

“good girl,” he whispers, “just relax for me.” he says. his index finger wiggles in your entrance. his name rolls off your tongue ever so quickly, and you feel him add a second finger not even giving you a chance to respond.

your fingers go flying into his freshly cut hair, and yank on the short ends. you curse him for what he’s done, and try to grab anything you can while his fingers pump inside of you. he takes his time, discovers every single bit of you like lost treasure. a place he hasn’t tended to in awhile.

sweet whines and moans escape your lips. it’s adorable how quick you were able to fold under his touch. all it ever really took was a swipe of his finger, tongue, or anything else to get your body to fold. you were his in the matter of seconds.

you feel one of his fingers just brush your clit. your back arches, pussy clenching around his fingers. you’re begging him to do it again, and again, until you come.

he doesn’t stop until he notices your legs are visibly shaking, the car is shaking from your bodies response, and until his fingers are met with cum.

“I can’t.” you breathe out, your body itches to exhale the sweet cum he ever so loves. he’s nodding along, encouraging you to come. you throw your body back against the seat, you feel the body of the car move as you do so. sweet delicious cum finally exits your body and so do his fingers.

“that was fun wasn’t it?” he licks his index and middle finger of your cum before pulling your set up close to where it was, and he’s getting out of the car. you quickly pull your shorts back up and double check your hair.

you look him in the eyes when he slides into the drivers seat. you can see the arousal in his pants, a content smile across his face, “don’t worry, you can take care of me when we get home. I’ve got an idea in my mind.”

[melodygatesauthor]

The Dark Side of the Moon - Chapter 1: Intoxicating

Vampire Marc Spector X f!Reader

Beta Read by @xbellaxcarolinax - Masterlist - AO3

Chapter Summary

Marc sees you for the first time and can't understand why you smell the way you do. The aroma is intoxicating, and he's determined to get closer to you, despite Khonshu's rules.

Tags/Warnings (for entire fic)

Major Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death - Non-con - Dub-con - Violence Minor Tags/Warnings NSFW, smut, Khonshu is human turned vampire, Ammit is human turned vampire, sex with characters other than the main pairing (Marc X f!Unnamed Character - Khonshu X f!Reader), p in v creampie, furniture grinding, scent kink, blood kink, vampire/human relationship, blood drinking, rough sex, oral sex, coming untouched, coming in pants, panty sniffing, angst, fluff, smut, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, Marc does NOT have DID Dead Dove Do Not Eat - This means that what you see in the tags is what you get in the fic. If you read the tags and see "non-con" and then see non-con in the fic, don't be surprised!

Word Count: 3.2k

When Marc first saw you, he was overwhelmed by your scent.

The blood coursing through your veins held an aroma so sickly sweet that he found himself dizzy from the smell. He stepped into the lofty, spacious room where an oversized, and over-embellished, chair sat at the back. The enormous windows behind the chair faced out to the ocean, stretching on for what felt like forever. Khonshu liked to call this his ‘throne room’; a pretentious name fit only for someone who thought all too highly of himself.

“Marc, isn’t she wonderfully fragrant?” Khonshu asked from where he sat in his chair, touching the small of your back. His deep voice broke Marc from his thoughts.

Marc cleared his throat, scowling at the display in front of him. You were there, standing timidly with your wrists and ankles bound by enchanted gold chains, and Khonshu was next to you, seated like a king, legs spread wide as though he didn’t have a care in the world. You were dressed like the other cattle: ivory-white, flowing dress covering your body, though leaving your neck well exposed in case Khonshu felt hungry on a whim.

“Yes sir,” Marc agreed, body stiffening as he tried to fight his primal urges against your intoxicating smell.

“Found this pretty thing walking home from some dead end job, sobbing, living a meaningless life, isn’t that right little dove?” He started rubbing your back, and Marc saw your body tense in response. He hated when Khonshu got new servants. He hated to see how nervous they all were in the beginning.

“Y-yes,” you said, voice sounding small compared to the bass of Khonshu’s tone.

“Not so meaningless now. You have such an important job here.” He looked up at you with such adoration it made Marc’s stomach turn. “Harrow,” he said loudly, looking at the man on Marc’s left. “I need a report, did you succeed in delivering my justice tonight?”

Arthur Harrow looked over at Marc, long face twisted into an expression of disdain that he reserved only for the right hand of Khonshu. When Harrow looked back at their master’s face, his expression changed to one of admiration, but Marc knew the man’s hatred for him still festered just under the surface.

Marc listened to Harrow’s recollection of the evening’s events. It was a brief retelling of their struggles and successes, structured in a way to make Arthur sound like the heroic protagonist of the story, leaving Marc to look like his inept sidekick. Marc chuckled under his breath when Harrow mentioned rescuing a woman from a mugger. What he failed to add, was that the man doing the mugging was in his late sixties, frail, and nearly starving to death in an alleyway, just trying to get enough money to eat for the night. In other words, Marc wouldn’t have needed a suit or vampiric abilities to deal with him.

“Is something funny, Marc Spector?” Arthur asked, turning to look at his counterpart.

Marc shook his head, “not at all, continue with your very accurate and completely true story.”

Marc looked at you, heartbeat racing at the sight of your pretty face. A smirk threatened the corner of your mouth, you must’ve noticed him, but you kept your eyes on the ground. Marc’s lips turned up for only a split second knowing he’d entertained you. He hated Khonshu for always making the servants of the house avert their gaze, as though the undead were a superior race to the living. He hated Khonshu for many other things as well, but not being able to see the sparkle of amusement in your eyes at that moment was one of them.

Marc shared his own account of the uneventful evening. They’d saved some other ‘travelers of the night’, as Khonshu called them, and made sure to deliver justice to those who hurt them. He didn’t always see eye to eye with Harrow, but both he and Marc served one man, bound to him forever in an unfortunate blood pact, and for that they were very alike. He wondered sometimes if Arthur hated their master as much as he did, but Marc didn’t dare ask such a question out loud.

Khonshu looked up at you, smiling contentedly as he did before letting out a sigh, broad shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Very good,” he said, finally addressing both Marc and Arthur. “I’m hungry, so I’ll be taking my leave.” He looked over at Marc as he stood, running a hand through his thick black hair. “Marc, please attend to any queries as I would.”

Marc nodded, watching Khonshu rise, putting his hand on your upper back as he led you out of the room. Your scent left with you, not fully, but enough to allow the fog that weighed heavy in Marc’s mind dissipate. He was certain that if you smelled that good, you must taste equally as delicious…right?

~~~~

Why the fuck did you smell like that? Marc wondered moments later, sitting in Khonshu’s lavish chair in his absence. There was no reason for you to smell like that. So sweet, so delicious. Marc found himself salivating, quickly wiping his lips. It was embarrassing, the way you had made such a mess out of him after only moments of him being in your presence.

“Are you hungry sir? I can get your cattle for you,” one of the servants nearby asked, noticing that he’d wiped his mouth.

“No, no I’m…” he wasn’t fine, “I’m fine.”

He’d lived a hundred twenty-six years, and not once had he come across a scent like that. It didn’t make sense, and yet, it was permeating the air around him, making him feel mildly intoxicated once again. Harrow chuckled on Marc’s left, taking the man out of his daze. He scowled and looked over at him.

“What?” Marc questioned, tone laced in frustration.

Arthur shrugged, “hm? Oh, nothing. It’s just interesting to me, how much your age shows when you're faced with something unique, like the new cattle girl.”

“She just has a strong smell, it’s nothing,” Marc said firmly, bouncing his leg as he became more anxious.

“Right, of course,” Arthur’s expression was smug, condescending toward Marc in an attempt to rattle him.

“Why don’t you go find something to keep yourself busy, Harrow. I’m sure Khonshu wouldn’t want to think you were bothering me while I conduct his business.”

That struck a nerve, and Marc knew it would. Harrow had served Khonshu for many, many, years longer than Marc had. Hundreds longer to be more precise. Arthur was an arguably better servant as well. He would kill without question, spending no time on nuance and weighing the gray area brought on by guilt. Harrow would kill if he simply felt that someone was deserving. Marc didn’t like to fight that way, it felt wrong, and morally corrupt at its core. Marc would only kill if he thought it was a just punishment.

Despite Harrow being Khonshu’s loyal and unquestioning knight, always doing their master’s bidding without question, Marc was the one Khonshu favored most. Neither of them understood it, and both of them wished it were Harrow in that position rather than Marc. He never wanted to be Khonshu’s right hand, and when he was turned he didn’t know that’s what he was signing up for. Khonshu was good at keeping information from his servants. In fact, that’s how he managed to recruit so many. If he’d been upfront with them all, no one would have joined him.

“Khonshu is preoccupied at the moment, I’m sure–”

“Ooh,” Marc taunted, “then it would be really awkward if I had to go knocking on his door to tell him that you were being a pain in my ass, wouldn’t it?” Marc looked at Harrow, both eyebrows raised in anticipation for the rebuttal that never came.

Once Harrow left, frustrated and grumbling to himself, Marc tried to find other ways to occupy his mind, and to get his thoughts off of you. He spoke with the servants, making small talk about the weather, as though he gave a shit about whether it was raining or the skies were painted in blue. He just needed to take his mind off of you, because the more he thought about you, the more he felt his body aching with hunger.

There were so few rules that Marc needed to abide by that he’d be labeled a moron if he couldn’t manage to follow them. He could come and go as he pleased, so long as he did the work Khonshu required of him. Marc wasn’t allowed to turn someone, unless of course his master bid him to do so. And there was one rule, a big one that was upheld above all else…

Touching Khonshu’s cattle was absolutely forbidden.

That was how Marc got there, replacing the last Moon Knight that was dumb enough to try and pull one over on Khonshu. When his master claimed someone, by auction, coercion or otherwise, they were his. Marc had heard that Khonshu was kind to his servants, only taking what he needed, never drinking more than his fill. If one of his designated meals were tired or still recovering from a feeding, he would allow them time to rest before he used them again.

Marc also knew that they ate well. He saw the meals sometimes in passing being brought by the cooks to the rooms of the cattle. That’s how Marc learned that you liked strawberries, especially the large ripe ones. He would see the way the cooks made a point to pick through the smaller sour ones and toss them aside before bringing them to your door.

Were you spoiled, or did you figure that if you were going to be stuck there for the rest of your life, that you might as well enjoy yourself? Either way, a week after your arrival, Marc still wasn’t used to your scent, and it called to him both day and night. It was faint, unless he was in the same room as you, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to figure out why you smelled like that, even if it killed him.

Marc didn’t need the enchanted armor Khonshu had blessed him with to climb the wall outside to your bedroom, his jeans and dark t-shirt would do just fine. The armor only afforded him protection at will, and the crescent darts he used to deliver Khonshu’s justice. As a vampire, there was no mountain too high for Marc to climb, and no distance too far for him to run. His strength couldn’t be surpassed by even ten men, but everything came with a price.

He needed blood to live.

Without that iron flavored liquid, Marc would die. Not much could kill him, but the thirst for blood certainly would if he didn’t satisfy it. And the smell of yours was making him fucking feral.

Marc didn’t know what he was thinking, standing there in your room, watching you while you slept soundly. He had all he could to stop himself from draining your body of every drop of your blood in front of Khonshu, so what was stopping him now? Your master wasn’t around to save you, but Marc knew he could never forgive himself if he hurt you.

He knelt down by your bedside, touching your warm cheek softly with the backs of his fingers. Your breathtaking eyes fluttered open, meeting his in a gaze with a look that was as frightened as it was confused. He put a finger to his lips, shushing you, hoping like hell that you wouldn’t alert the household to his presence in your quarters; something that would surely land him in the thirst room for a minimum of half a century.

You nodded as you slowly sat up, rubbing your eyes and pulling away from Marc. It was a smart decision, he had no noble reason for being there. He just wanted to smell you. He wanted to feel you. You were doing well in your attempt to hide your fear, though he could tell you were petrified. Your breathing was ragged, and your pupils blown wide.

“Why do you smell like that?” He said in a low growl, leaning forward on your bed, nuzzling your neck and inhaling deeply, “so fuckin’ sweet I…fuck.”

“W-what are you do–”

“Shh, I’m not going to hurt you, I just…” he inhaled again, breath ragged and harsh in your ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He repeated, not sure who he was trying to convince more, you…or himself.

“O-okay,” you said in the softest, and shakiest, voice he’d ever heard.

Marc really wasn’t going to harm you, though it took every ounce of his strength not to. He wanted to devour you, drink you dry, absorb your warmth into every cell of his cold body. He leaned in more, pushing you back against the mattress, feeling every neuron in his brain firing with desire. He felt your hands, pushing gently against his chest in protest, but you clearly weren’t brave enough to try and fight back.

Marc felt his cock aching as it sprung to life against his jeans. Your legs were around him, though he could feel your knees digging into his waist in an attempt to close them. The heat from your cunt was maddening, radiating off of you through his clothing and making his dick leak profusely.

“Why the fuck do you smell like that?” He asked again, throat vibrating with a primal rumble. He breathed in your fragrant aroma some more, feeling his fangs extending in preparation to bite. “Never smelled someone so…hmmmm.”

“L-like…like w-what?”

That’s when he realized just how much you were shaking. As if he were awoken from a trance, Marc shook the delirium from his mind and slid off of you quickly, backing up to the wall, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He gulped, looking you up and down. You looked terrified, eyes wide with fear. Your bottom lip was trembling while you sat up and stared widely at him, like prey coming face to face with a predator. 

“I’m sorry,” Marc said, still panting heavily. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt so breathless.

“You’re M-Marc, right?” You asked, looking him up and down, “I’m…” your name rolled off your tongue beautifully.

Cattle didn’t have names. Once someone was branded as livestock, a human whose job was to provide blood to their master, they were stripped of their previous life, including their name. Marc had been to other households. Some masters replaced their servant’s old names with new ones. Others had a numeric system, the numbers getting higher and higher the longer a vampire had been alive and using servants.

Khonshu preferred to keep his nameless. It made it less personal when it was time to dispose of old or sickly livestock, or when he got too carried away while feeding, leading to the unfortunate demise of a perfectly good food source. Marc knew you were privy to the rules. You knew damn well that you weren’t supposed to ever utter your birth name, and yet you were speaking it freely to him.

You trusted him.

“Look…I was never here, alright?” Marc swallowed hard, looking out at the moonlit sky. “I…I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…I couldn’t help myself. I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, and without looking at you again, Marc climbed through the window and dropped back to the ground, moving quickly around the side of the manor and back to where his quarters were. The pain of his cock pressing against his zipper ached like never before. He could still fucking smell you, and now your scent was on his damn clothes. It was a mistake going there, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad he did.

~~~~

He got into bed that night, stripped down fully, planting his feet firmly against his mattress, cock in hand and jerking himself off to the thoughts running through his mind. He balled up his shirt, holding it against his face and smelling your aroma still saturated in every fiber. His grip was firm around his girth, gliding over his length at a slow pace, imagining what it would be like to feel you on top of him.

Marc ran his thumb over the precum leaking out of the slit on his fat tip, using that to keep his palm slick while he worked. A pathetic whine left his lips, throat closing as he gripped the sheets and arched his back upward. You’d take him so well, he could tell just by the way you looked underneath him earlier. You’d cry and whimper but you’d love every second, begging him to fuck you until you couldn’t walk right.

He rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his cock between his abdomen and the mattress, grabbing the sides of the bed and rutting his hips forward. The grind along the smooth sheets was enough to electrify his entire body. Marc choked on the groan that threatened to leave his lips. He put the shirt on his pillow, burying his face in it, fucking the bed faster. If you had been under him, he would’ve broken you in half…or shredded you to pieces.

He bit into the shirt, growling lowly and continuing to roll his erection over the soft mattress  in an attempt to curb the growing need to have you. Your voice was so small, so sweet, so pretty. Fuck, fuck… The way you looked at him, afraid, timid, like he was going to hurt you. He wished he could say with confidence that he would never hurt you, like he had promised you earlier in your room, but he knew that was a white lie. He would always try never to hurt you.

He shuddered on his next snap forward, the friction becoming more slick as his leaking head left a mess in its wake. His grip on the sides of the mattress was tight enough to make his knuckles ache, aiding in his speed. He didn’t even care that the bed scraped against the floor with a loud shriek on every pass. He kept his nose deep in the fabric of his shirt, inhaling deeply, intoxicated with your smell combined with his. It smelled right, like your fragrances belonged together.

You belonged with him.

“Why does she…why does she smell so…so-fucking-good-ohgodohgodohgod…!”

Marc’s hips finally came to a stammering halt, warm sticky ropes of cum shooting out from his throbbing cock, making a mess of his bedding that he knew the servants would mumble about amongst each other when they thought he wasn’t listening. He huffed through his nose, hips still sliding his dick over the glob of slippery white that he created while thinking of you. 

He wasn’t a fool, but Marc hoped desperately that masturbating his nights away would be enough to satisfy his needs. Deep down though, he knew that was bullshit, and he knew that as long as you were around, his life was at risk.

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[rysko]

Rysko's guide to the galaxy - Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Hiya! Welcome to my Peaky Blinders blog, i've been in the fandom for a few months now (late to the party, i know xD), but i've only started writing in late december. I'm finally doing a masterlist so i have an easier way of accessing shit (and maybe ya'll will as well). It'll be updated after every published work.

Want me to write something? My requests are open, rules are posted here.

Ongoing Series:

Kings of Spades - Luca Changretta x OC

Other fics (sorted by character):

Tommy Shelby -

(Coming Soon)

Luca Changretta -

Too old for this - Luca Changretta x f!reader

Arthur Shelby -

(Coming Soon)

Alfie Solomons -

(Coming Soon)

Aberama Gold -

(Coming Soon)

- MORE CHARACTERS TO COME -

[brightlycoloredteacups]

Arthur Be Damned

Pairing: Orm Marius x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut

Summary: Orm has the hots for Arthur's big sister, and it looks like she's got the hots for him too.

She was Arthur's big sister, and Arthur was doing his big brother duty by ordering Orm to stay away from her. Orm agreed entirely. Getting together with his brother’s older sister would be messy, to say the least. It started as nothing more than a silly little crush. A pretty girl flashed a brilliant smile towards him, patched him up and fed him because he and Arthur had to hide out for a while. He would get over it soon enough. Six months had passed since the initial agreement that Orm would stay away from her, and he was more in love with the woman now than he ever dreamed he could be. 

She was nothing like Arthur. She was quiet, introspective. Having had a hard life living with her mother, her smiles didn't come easily. When she spoke, Arthur listened and did what he was told. There was a deep sense of respect on Arthur's part for his big sister that Orm admired. She was neat, orderly, efficient. When Orm fantasized about being king, she was his queen. Regal and unwavering. He was desperate for her attention.

He did menial chores to compensate. He was bad at it at first, but he picked it up quick enough. He always went grocery shopping with her. She was on the shorter side, so getting items on higher shelves was an issue. Not to mention feeding two grown Atlanteans in their prime required a lot of food. He made sure to wear tighter, more flattering shirts to show off his muscles as he hauled bags upon bags up the driveway to the kitchen. He thanked her, complimented her, and anything else he could think of just to get her to look his way.

The benefits of being stuck in a small home with the woman of his dreams every day for six months were numerous. The one he liked best was the fact that he could observe her in silence. He spent an unabashed amount of time watching her. She noticed him doing it to. She made snide comments before when Arthur snapped at her for wearing revealing clothing. She simply laughed in Arthur’s face and said, “I have to make sure to put on a show for Orm. He’s always staring.” If his staring bothered her, she hadn’t said anything.

He learned so many things about her in such a short amount of time he felt like his head was stuffed full. In fact, despite the desperate circumstances he and Arthur were in, all he thought about was Arthur’s sister. She had a matcha latte and a bagel every morning. The topping on the bagel were different day to day but often it was peanut butter and banana. She was a university student in her last years of school, what she studied he couldn’t make heads or tales of . He just understood that it was frustrating. He also knew, the more frustrated she was, the more likely she was to play loud “nasty” music just liked the music coming from her room now.          

Orm looked up the stairs, wondering if he should try and comfort her. She didn’t seem a woman that would enjoy his company when stressed, but he hadn’t seen her at all that day. She had been up since before the break of dawn and remained shut in her room the rest of the day. He would die if he didn’t at least tell her good night. What if she didn’t like him though? He couldn’t just go up there and knock on her door to say goodnight, sleep well…could he? She had to like him just a little. Arthur was her brother, but she spent less time with him than she did with Orm. She smiled at him more, sought him out first after missions to make sure he was ok. It felt like she was choosing him. She could just be trying to be nice; he reasons. On the other hand, if she was trying to be nice, why didn’t she ever comfort Arthur the way she comforted him?

He isn’t sure how long he stares up, but when he hears a thump, he’s running to the second floor, two steps at a time. He calls her name, panicked. Banging on her bright yellow door, he calls for her again. “I’m ok!” She calls to him, sounding just as panicked as he feels. “I’m fine.” He hears scrambling and another thump; the music cuts off abruptly. She opens the door, flashing him a ‘see I’m fine smile’. She looks in disarray. Her hair fluffier, as if she’d been sleeping, her tight shirt slightly raised to show the chub of her belly, her shorts showing her meaty things. Once again, he’s plagued by thoughts of being squeezed by those thighs. “I heard a bang,” he says, looking past her and into the room. “Are you alright, did you trip?” She was a woman of poise, rarely tripping over herself. “I’m alright,” She reiterates, “I just knocked something over, that’s all.” Orm’s blue eyes snap back to her, she gives him another smile, sheepish, telling him to go away, everything is fine, just fine. That’s when the smell hits him.

Orm understood that surface people went through a mating season, not unlike Atlanteans. A human female’s season was short, about a week. They made up for the short season by going through it once a month. He took her appearance in again, and somehow managed to leap to a conclusion. She was relieving her heat herself. That thump must have been a tool of some kind, and she dropped it in the throws of passion. Orm felt himself harden instantly at the thought, he wanted to know what tool it was that had her so flushed with pleasure, he wanted to use it on her. Her sheepish smile falters as his stare becomes intense. `

“Orm are you ok?” She reaches out to him, grabs his arm, he can’t help but to step inside her room, pull her close to him and take a deep breath. Damn, that sent short circuited his brain. “Orm?” Her voice is soft, laced with confusion, but not alarm. “Arthur doesn’t like the thought of us being together,” Orm tells her, unwilling to stop the confession about to pour forth from him “But Arthur be damned. I want you; I’ve wanted you since the first moment I met you, more than I’ve ever wanted another.” She squirms in his arms, but he doesn’t let go, can’t let go, not yet. “These past six months have been nothing but a fever dream of yearning. I don’t just want to fuck you on every available surface, I want to kiss you, hold your hand. I want to take you to Atlantis and show you all its wonders. I want you to explain the surface world to me. I want to get lost in you until the end of our days.”

“Orm-” he cuts her off, “But I understand our dynamic is strange,” Orm finds the strength to let go of her. He feels stupid, weak, embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to lay his soul bear to her, but she just brought it out of him. He was madly in love with her. “We share a brother, and he’s uncomfortable with the thought of us together. I only needed you to know I have strong feelings for you. If you reject me, I accept. I want nothing more than for you to be happy.” He feels his heart give a painful squeeze. He knows there’s no way she’d accept him. Arthur was her brother, Orm was nothing less than a disgraced prince. But he had to tell her, he couldn’t go on living without at least telling her his secret. Damn her for making him so weak.    

She reaches for him, takes his hand in hers, tugs him closer. It’s the most natural thing in the world, bending down to kiss her. He’s thrilled when she wraps her arms around his neck and receives him. He takes his time kissing her, exploring her soft lips, playfully nibbling, and nipping, enjoying her girlish giggling. When they finally pull back, both are smiling stupidly at the other. “What about Arthur?” Orm asks, the king of Atlantis is going to be pissed at this new development. “It’s like you said, Arthur be damned.” Orm took it as permission to dip down and kiss her again.            

Somewhere in the haze Orm manages to close the door, walk her across the room, and get her on the bed. He hovers over her, unwilling to move too far from her lips. He spends eternity kissing her, wanting to tell her how much he loves her. It’s too early for that, he thinks, I don’t want to seem desperate. In a shocking turn of events, she flips him over onto his back, settles herself on his hips, both letting out gasps when she brushes his erection. He rests his hands on her hips as she regards him. Her wild hair seems wilder now, her eyes glimmering with mirth. She’s smirking down at him, and he swears he’s died on gone to paradise. 

It’s strange how little she looks like Arthur. Arthur was tall, tan with brown hair, green eyes, and a shit eating grin. She was much shorter, reaching the bottom of Orm’s sternum. Steady and solidly built, her skin was darker by a few shades than Arhtur’s, she had brown eyes, and her hair was black, curly, and wild.

She finds the hem of his shirt and starts to tug it up, he sits up and raises his arms. The shirt goes up and over his head. When she presses him back down, he doesn’t resist. Her eyes roam up and down his body. He knew he was fit, he spent all his life training and fighting. He had a few scars here and there. Shockingly he starts feeling self-conscious. He forces himself to stay still for her. He wants to flex, to tell her in the right lighting, he looks like a god, honest he does. She rakes her nails down his chest, catching a nipple in the progress. He damn near loses his mind. The term ‘monkey brain’ suddenly begins to make sense. Rational thought is slowly leaving him as his desire to put his cock in her nearly takes over. It’s her contented sigh and the “You’re so handsome Orm,” that brings him crashing back into himself. Handsome! He’s so handsome at that. She leans over him pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, his chin. Things get a little naughty when she reaches his neck.

He grunts at the sudden pleasure over her teeth nipping at his skin. He turns his head for her, and she manages to find a place at the junction of his jaw and behind his ear that has him fisting the sheets. He rolls his hips upward involuntarily, seeking any kind of friction. She giggles and laves attention on the spot, sucking a dark mark onto his skin. He’s so wrapped up in what her mouth is doing he isn’t aware that a hand slips beneath the band of his pants until he feels her fingers on his cock. He must let out a strange noise when she squeezes the middle of his member because she immediately removes her hand, much to his displeasure, and pops up looking panicked. “I’m sorry!”

He shakes his head, too confused to answer her. She gets off him, but before she can get too far from him, he grabs her hand. All he can manage is a strained, “Continue.” Her brows furrow, unsure if she should listen. He swallows thickly, “Please,” He manages, “Please, I need you. I was just shocked, that’s all.”

“You sounded like I stabbed you Orm,” He shakes his head. “I don-, I don’t know what sound I made, but I can assure you, it was one of pleasure. I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity to…to do this kind of thing with you. I’m a little overwhelmed.”  He runs his thumb across the back of her hand in reassurance. She hesitates a little too long for his liking. “Do you not want this?” He asks, perhaps he’d read the situation wrong and she was having second thoughts. “I do.” She tells him, finally relaxing, he relaxes as well, flopping back down on the bed with a sigh of relief. “Please,” he begs her, “Please.”

She does as he asks, hooks her fingers underneath the band of his pants and, with his help, shimmies them down his hips. Flinging them somewhere in her room, she has a full view of him. He wants nothing more than to shy away from her, to cover himself up from her piercing gaze. He shouldn’t have initiated such an intimate moment so quickly. “Jesus Orm, you’re perfect.” Perfect, the word echoes around in his skull as she kneels before him. Jesus, a deity surface people call out, as a curse or a prayer. Orm, his name. Perfect, a reference to him. When she thinks of perfection, she thinks of him, his nakedness, his body. He’s satisfactory looking to her, more than that, he’s perfect. All the incoherent ramblings going on in his skull cease the moment she grabs his cock once again. He makes the same strangled sound, but this time, she simply pauses instead of moving away from him.

Her clasped hand moves up his cock, down, and up once more. He can no longer force himself to stay still, fuck he couldn’t even force himself to stay quiet. “Oh, now you see, that sounds better.” She teases him. He manages to prop himself up on his elbows to look at her. She’s smiling at him. She stops again, and he wants to curse, but she rests her cheek on his knee a look overcoming her features. He can’t tell what it is, but he never wants her to stop. Lazily she squeezes him, begins pumping slowly as she looks into his eyes. There’s something there, something more than lust, something…loving. I’m going to do it; I’m going to tell her I love her. He doesn’t get the chance. She presses a kiss to his knee, then further up his thigh, then a little further up. Yes, his monkey brain screams, understanding what’s happening before he does. Yes, put it in your mouth, oh Poseidon, put my cock in your mouth.

She works her way to the base of his cock, head an angry scarlet, weeping with precum. She licks a stripe from base to tip, catching a bead of white on her tongue. He’s fascinated by the sight, watches her swallow then pop the tip in her mouth and give a strong suck. His hips jerk upwards involuntarily. She merely giggles and continues to suck him. He watches as she moves herself into a better position over him, free hand resting on his hip. He immediately takes it, entwines their fingers, settling onto his back for a third time. His mind clears as she continues her ministrations, getting lower and lower on his cock as time goes by.

What she can’t reach with her mouth, she reaches with her hand. Orm’s head, for once in his life, is completely empty. There are no duties he has to attend to, no imagined slights he has to nurse an injury for, no jealousies to consider. It’s just him, the women between his knees, and the unceasing waves of pleasure. He’s vocal, calling out her name, begging her not to stop, oh please, he needs this, please, pretty please, oh please, ohpleaseohpleASEOHPLEASE. Yes. The tight coil in his gut snaps as his orgasm rips through him. He’s aware of the noises he makes, of the giggles, of his hips jerking hard. He relaxes, lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, then finally opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

She moves again to straddle him. Brushing a heated cheek with her thumb he finally as the courage to look at her. “You ok?” She asks, “That seemed a little intense.” He wants to snap back at her, ask her how she would feel if the woman she was lusting after just gave her the best head she’d ever had. Instead, he sits up and kisses her deeply, tasting himself on her tongue. That’s when the scent hits him again, her arousal. It seems more intense now, sweeter than anything he’s ever smelled. He helps her get rid of her clothes in a quick fashion, pushes her on her back and stares open at her nakedness. If she had any reservations, hesitations, or anything else, she didn’t show it.

Orm understood that, whether for aesthetic purposes or cultural purposes, humans took their body modifications personally. Arthur had tattoos that represented his culture through his father’s line, Arthur’s sister didn’t have ink, she had jewels. He allows his eyes to roam her body freely, tracing a path from her chin, down her neck, to a nipple. Two little balls rested on either side, he tugged gently, curious as to the meaning of such a thing. He doesn’t linger, there’s too much of her he wants to explore and he’s reasonably confident he’ll have time to stare at her all he wants in the future. His hand trails downward to the shiny green piercing that rested in her belly button. He glosses over it, a half though forming in his mind that a pearl should be nestled there. As his hands travel lower, she adjusts herself, opening her legs to him. She’s got nothing to hide, and he loves her all the more for it.

His fingers slip past the curls of her pussy and plunge inside, eager to see her come undone just as quickly as she’d undid him. She’s wet. His ego takes a hit when he realizes she’s wet because of what she was doing before he interrupted her, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He pumps two fingers in and out experimentally, knowing the basics of what he was doing. She was quick to correct him. “Angle them upwards more.” He does so. That first little whimper damn near does him in. “Your thumb.” She breathes, He looks down at his hand, what about it? Was it in the way. “Use it.” He has to pause and think, how did he use his thumb?

“Have you never fingered a girl before?” Her question is gentle, unjudgmental. “I haven’t exactly had time to practice.” He admits, flushing red for different reasons now. “Here, let me.” She maneuvers his hand the way she wants it, two fingers angled up, his thumb on another piece of jewelry. “That’s my clit,” She explains when she places his thumb there. “It’s a very important piece of anatomy. Makes a woman see stars. If ever you’re with someone, and they aren’t getting there in a timely manner, I can say with much confidence if you put some sort of stimulation on it, they’ll cum in a few moments.” He wants to make a cute retort that she’s ruined all others for him, but he’s eager to absorb the lesson she’s trying to teach him. “If you ever eat a girl out, that’s where you’ll want to focus your mouth. Now, go ahead and move your fingers in and out, making sure to apply pressure upwards, and use your thumb as leverage on my clit when you move out. If you can remember, move it up and down or in circles while moving in an out.”

It’s all so clinical, he thinks, so impersonal. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. She knew exactly how to please him without so much as an utterance from him. Here he was receiving an entire lecture. But you’ll be better for it, he tells himself, you’re learning how to please her directly from the source. She isn’t letting you fumble through it, she’s giving you direction, that way next time you know what the hell you’re doing. A smaller voice he chose to beat back asked him if he was so sure there would be a next time. He starts over, doing as she instructed. Pressure in two places, nice and easy, in and out. This time, she reacts, groaning and rolling her hips to meet his fingers.

He falls into a steady rhythm. She wriggles beneath him, and he watches intently as she moves. Her walls flutter around his fingers and he feels himself harden and begin to leak once more. He’s enraptured by the vision beneath him. Eventually a sheen of sweat forms on her skin, making her glow in the light that filled the room. He leans forward, unable to resist kissing her any longer. She tries to kiss him back, but she’s too busy chasing her release, so he opts for open mouthed kisses anywhere he can reach, cheek, shoulder, anywhere. Before long, her hips begin to stutter, her walls clamp down on his fingers in a rhythm all their own. She calls his name over and over, like a prayer. It soothes the hit his ego took earlier. When she’s finished, she pushes his hand away, the sensation becoming too much. His hand is soaked in her slick, that wonderful smell overwhelming him once more.

Unsure of how to proceed, he wipes his hand on his leg as best he could and lays next to her, watching her heavy breathing become normal once more. His cock aches with the want to enter her, but she made no moves to take things that far. Eventually she steadies, and he begins to press kisses to her skin once more. She turns her head to capture his lips in a kiss. It’s lazy, unchaste, all tongues and nips and nibbles. He could spend an eternity there, but she begins to cling to him in a way his subconscious understands as her wanting more. He dares to roll on top of her and settle between her legs.

He manages to pull away from her and trail kisses down her neck as she’d done before. He tries desperately to find that magical spot on her neck that she found on him but couldn’t do it before she called his name. He stops immediately. It’s time to go, their little tryst has come to an end. Arhtur is going to be home any second and they have to compose themselves, no matter how much his balls ached to be emptied again. “Please,” she says, bringing him in for another scorching kiss. “Please, I want you.” The desperation behind her words almost kills him. He pulls back, not to be a tease, but he wanted to get something straight. In his mind, it was one thing to pleasure each other using mouths and hands, it was a different thing entirely to be joined so intimately. He beings his final confession.

“I love you,” He says, “In all the Seven Kingdoms, in all the world, there’s no one I want more than you. No one I desire to be with more. I’ll only continue if you feel the same way.”

“I love you too, Orm.” It’s the way it falls from her lips without hesitation, the earnestness in her tone, the softness of her smile. This was what made him believe her. His face breaks out into the biggest smile he ever managed. “Yeah?” She nods, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, kissing him for the umpteenth time. He wriggles around for a few moments, using a free hand to slide effortlessly into her. They both groan as he slides all the way in. He can’t explain it, but he’s weak in the best way possible. He wants to collapse on top of her and remain sheathed inside her for eternity. This is right. He belongs with this woman. The universe aligned everything just so he could meet this woman and love her.

His pace is slow to start. He doesn’t want things to end too quickly, but it seems she has other plans. She begins to match his easy pace thrust for thrust. Both of their grunts and whimpers got lost in the others’. An ‘oh Orm,’ was coupled with an ‘oh yes,’ which in turn was followed by ‘right there’ and ‘don’t stop’. All too soon Orm found himself speeding up, just a little, chasing that release. From the way her walls fluttered around his cock, he hoped she was close too. “Orm, thumb, please.” She whispers, clinging to him. Through the haze of pleasure, he manages to find enough wits to place his thumb on her clit and began to rub. Her legs wrap around his waist, bringing him impossibly deeper. By this time neither could tell which grunt belonged to who, who was begging for the other harder. They were lost in each other, and when they climaxed, it was together. Both their hips jerked erratically, each chasing their release, lamenting that the pleasure was over too soon.

Orm collapses on top of her. She brings her arms around him, scraping her fingers over the back of his scalp with one hand, and running the other up and down his back. He softened slowly inside her as they both bask in the afterglow. In the back of his mind, Orm knows Arthur is going to be pissed. But it’s like he said in the beginning, Arthur be damned.

[calumsrockstar]

Lady and the tramp - Calum Hood

a/n: I'm sorry for any historial inacuracies! I wrote this from the top of my head

Contents: description of abuse, royal courting, tooth rotting fluff, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f recieving), creampie, mentions of pregnancy.

You were to be wed to your horrible fiancé, but when you spot a beautiful tall man, you think your luck has changed.

Royal!Calum x Royal!Reader (fem)

You looked in the mirror while you applied your favorite rouge to your cheeks. Tonight was the annual Hood ball, since sir Arthur Hood became king, this became a tradition. Every year lavish parties were thrown to celebrate his reign.

Your fiancé, William, which you were bethrothed to since you were 16, grabbed your arm and dug his nails into your skin. "We cannot be late, y/n. You know Arthur is expecting us." He looked into your eyes sternly. Your lady in waiting, Arabella, watched this happen, knowing if she intervened she would get punished.

"I know, i'm almost ready, i'm terribly sorry" You apologized, wincing from the pain. "Good. We'll be leaving in ten minutes." He replied. Finally releasing your arm, he left the room, allowing you to finish your preparations.

Tears started to form in your eyes, while you rushed to Arabella. "I don´t think i can take this much, Bella." You hugged her. She had been your only friend since you were wed to William.

"Be strong, y/n." She told you, wiping your tears. "You'll get through this, I promise." Making you smile.

"Let me help you get ready, maybe you'll find a new husband." She laughed, making you giggle and sniffle. "Suck in." She said, tightening your corset while you placed your hands on your mirror, scrunching your face.

You were wearing a beautiful lavender gown, with your hair put up and slighly curled. You also wore an expensive pearl necklace and white gloves. The epitome of class, you looked absolutely gorgeous.

You turned to Arabella. "How do I look?" You asked. "Splendid." She replied, smiling. She gave you a final hug. "We'll see each other soon." You grinned. "When I get back, I'll tell you all about it."

The ride to the castle was long and arduous. You felt your stomach turn into knots, especially because your fiancé was right by your side, keeping an eye on you.

When you finally got out of your carriage, you observed an extraordinarily large castle, with a huge water fountain, and yards of bright green shrubbery. The night was cold, but William refused to give you his coat.

You walked in with your arm intertwined with your fiancé, getting lost in the big castle. When you finally found the ballroom, it was enormous, checkered floors with gold marble statues, big chandeliers and what seemed to be hundreds of tables.

Loud classical music was playing and you saw hundreds of unfamiliar faces laughing and chatting. You wished you could be as relaxed as them, talking with your partner.

You heard your fiancé hum pleasantly, meaning he was satisfied with what he saw, you on the other hand were terrified. "I don´t know how to dance William, i´ve never been to a ball." You told him. "You´ll learn now, don´t give me attitude." He replied, making you put your head down.

Your eyes locked on one particular man. He was the only one who was sitting down, and he was munching on a quiche, with crumbs all over his suit.

He was astonishingly handsome, fluffy dark hair and soulful deep brown eyes, his bushy eyebrows framed his face perfectly. You giggled, observing the strange sight of the handsome brute.

Women started gathering at one side of the room, while men on another, signifying that the dance was about to start. The mysterious man didn´t get up, instead watched, smiling.

Your fiancé whispered in your ear. "Don't ruin this for me, y/n." Your breath hitched in your throat as you nodded.

You walked up to William, and tried to fit in as much as possible, placing your hand on his and twirling around, looking like a scared little bunny.

The stranger noticed this, he leaned over from his chair, furrowing his eyebrows. He had never seen such a beautiful woman before, you looked stunning in your dress that moved with evey step you took.

He also noticed your fiancé, which had an angry expression, watching over you like a hawk, mentally critiziing every step you took.

When the dance was finally over, William whispered in your ear "We´ll have a talk when we get home." A man came up behind him and greeted him, prompting a sappy conversation. This was your chance to run and dissapear into the crowd.

You picked up your pace, looking over your shoulder to make sure William wasn´t following you, when you bumped into a tall stranger.

"I´m so sorry." You scrambled to find words, when you looked up to see the same person you locked eyes 20 minutes ago. "It´s no problem at all." He smiled.

"What´s wrong?" He asked. You stuttered "Nothing, i´ll be on my way." You replied. "What is a beautiful princess like you running away from?" He asked you.

You gulped. "My fiancé." You covered your mouth, having blurted out very personal information. He raised an eyebrow. "What did he do?" He asked.

The cat´s out of the bag now, you thought. "He´s horrible, he made me come to this ball when I don´t even know how to dance!" You exclaimed, making him chuckle.

"I don´t really like these types of things too." He said, making you laugh in surprise. "What´s your name, if I may ask?" He inquired.

"y/n y/l/n" You replied. "What about yours?"

"Calum." He said. "And your last name?" You questioned.

He started blushing. "Hood." You opened your eyes. "Calum Hood? Like Arthur Hood?" You asked, making him nod.

"Oh my God, I´m so sorry sir-" You exclaimed, and he stopped your sentence, smiling. "It´s fine, you can call me Calum, it´s not your fault i´ve been born into this family."

"Why aren´t you dancing? I can see all those ladies in waiting swooning over you." You smiled. "They´re boring, i´d much rather be with you." He smiled.

Your breath hitched in your throat. "Um, aren´t you married to anyone?" You stuttered. "Yes, she´s pretty and all, but I got married for political reasons, and i´m pretty sure she´s not faithful." He winked.

"Oh." You laughed awkwardly. "Would you like to see the gardens with me?" He asked. You looked back at William, who was clearly preoccupied with a ginger woman, swiping her hand on his arm. "Yes, I would like that." You replied.

He stuck out his hand and yours met his. You felt the ruggedness of his hand through your gloves.

The garden was massive, with hundreds of different flowers and bushes. The air was crisp and chilly and the night sky was clear. Calum saw you shivering and took off his expensive coat to give it to you. "There´s really no need, sir-I mean, Calum." You told him. "It´s my pleasure, y/n." He answered.

He sat down on a marble bench, and patted at his side, prompting you to sit down. You smelled his scent on his coat, he smelled of musk and roses.

There was a calm and comfortable silence. "I can´t believe you´ve never been to a ball, princess." Calum said, breaking the ice. "Yeah, i´m mostly cooped up in my room. I like to write, and paint." You said softly.

"Why are you here with me?" You asked. "Do I need a reason?" he said back, making you smile. You shook your head to signal a "no".

"Do you like being royalty?" You blurted out. "No, not really." He answered. "I feel like a chess piece, being married for political alliances, I can never be who I want, love who I want. It´s given to me like a prophecy, I can never get rid of it." You nodded. "I understand."

You noticed a statue that looked just like him. "You don´t like the statues?" You laughed, making him grin. "I hate those statues, they look hideous." He laughed. "I think i´m much more handsome in real life."

He noticed the bruises on your arms, when your gloves were pulled down, tracing his hands on them. His touch stirred nerves which you never knew you had inside of you. "Did he do this to you?" He said, and you knew exactly who he was talking about.

For the first time since you were a child, you felt safe. You nodded, with tears starting to form in your eyes, he lifted your head with his hands. "You deserve so much better." You looked up at him, starry eyed. You observed that he had a few beauty marks on his face.

At this point, the front parts of your hair had fallen out of your ponytail, framing your face. In the moonlight, you looked like a godess among men.

One part of your brain was telling you that this was wrong, and that you had to go back to your fiancé, but the other part knew that this felt right.

You slowly closed your eyes and placed a kiss on his lips. You felt him smile into it. He kissed you again, more passionately, his lips hungry for yours, while he held your face with both hands. "You´re so beautiful." He said, making you smile. "Nobody should ever make you feel this way, princess."

Your head was fuzzy, you couldn´t think straight, feelings that were buried deep inside you were being stirred, making you blush. Calum heard his name being called out, meaning he had to go back inside. "I wish I could stay here forever." You said. "Me too." Calum agreed.

"I hope to see you soon, y/n" Calum said. "Likewise." You replied, heading back inside the ballroom.

-----------------

Two weeks went by, slowly, all that was in your head was CalumCalumCalumCalum. You told Arabella all about your adventures. and she agreed that you should meet him again.

You were all he thought about. When he went to bed, when he had dinner with the royal family. when he went to shower. How he longed to touch your soft hands, and hold your delicate face.

While you were painting, you heard a knock on your door. "There´s been a letter delivered to you, Princess y/n." The guard said. You thanked him, and closed the door to your room.

To my beloved y/n:

I cannot hold it any longer, my heart aches for you. On Saturday, I will send you a carriage, at eleven in the morning, driven by my best men. If you don´t accept, please ask them to leave. But I hope you do see me.

From yours truly, Calum Hood.

You stood reading the letter, with your mouth wide open. You decided to accept, since your fiancé would not be home, this was a perfect opportunity to go see Calum.

You could not go to sleep, your body was on fire, every nerve longed for Calum´s touch. You´ve never felt this before, for anyone.

You stayed awake for the remaining of the night, painting, since you couldn´t go to sleep.

At the early hours of the morning, Arabella came into your room. "I´m going to go see Calum." You giggled. Arabella smiled. "When?" She asked. "At eleven, today." You replied, prompting her to hug you. "But you cannot tell William, or a single soul." You whispered. Arabella did an imaginative motion with her hand, zipping up her mouth and throwing away the key.

Counting the minutes to 11, you were outside waiting. Sure enough, there was a caarriage there. You looked to your guards for approval and nodded, then entered it.

Falling asleep, you woke up to a sudden stop. You had gotten to the castle, even more beautiful in the daytime.

The big gates were opened, and you wandered in, looking through the rooms was when you found him, sitting at a dining table. Both of your eyes lit up as you saw each other.

You ran up to him, and then realized you should be curteous, and bowed to him, making him laugh. "It´s okay y/n, nobody´s looking." You looked around, and gave him a kiss on the lips, making him smile. "I missed you." He said. "It´s only been two weeks." You giggled. "That´s already too much." He replied.

"Shall I give you a tour of the castle, m´lady?" He said, bowing sarcastically. "You may." You giggled and grabbed his hand.

You both ran througout the castle, going through the main hall, the kitchens, bathrooms, laundry rooms, all the guest chambers and the cellars.

"I have one more thing I want to show you." He said, grinning, and taking you up a big flight of stairs.

You both entered a gigantic room, with a huge red bed and a few giant paintings of Calum. "Welcome to my chambers, m´lady." He grinned while you had your mouth wide open. You let go of his hand and went to explore, touching all of the furniture and the bed. "I think this is the best room." You smiled, making Calum chuckle.

You couldn´t help but laugh at the paintings, depicting Calum in various positions, posing. "I know, those paintings are ridiculous." He blushed. "I think they´re marvelous." You giggled. "Very fancy."

You turned around to see Calum standing in front of you. "I think you´re much more handsome in person, sir." You told him, making him smile and roll his eyes. "You really think so?" He asked. "Of course." You replied, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, whispering "Well, I think you´re beautiful too, y/n." Kissing your neck. You couldn´t help but moan into his kisses, making your body feel on fire.

"Calum - William is expecting me soon." You stuttered. "Does William make you feel like this?" He asked, grazing his hands on your ass. You shook your head signaling a no. "Then fuck him, you don´t deserve him."

William had sex with you, but it was never something for your pleasure. He got himself off and that was it. Calum felt different, he felt like he cared.

You pulled him into a kiss, grabbing him by his collar and dragging him onto the bed. Making him smile. When the kiss was broken, you observed his messy hair and his big grin.

Today, you opted to not wear a corset, and wear a simple blue dress. Just your luck, you thought.

He pointed to the hem of your dress. "May I?" He asked. You nodded. "Please." Making him grin. "Good girl."

"You look so beautiful, let me make you feel good, princess." He said, dragging his eyes up at you, observing every curve in your body.

He unclasped your bra and took off your underwear, gently making you lay down on the huge bed.

You clenched your legs together, in embarassment while Calum placed sloppy kisses from your mouth to your stomach. "No need to be shy, princess. You look gorgeous." He said, making you blush, and gently parting your legs with his hands.

You hid your face in your hands, covering your blushing. You felt his hot breath on your core. You had never felt like this in your life. A carnal desire for someone.

His tongue finally made contact with your soaking pussy. Making you throw your head back, as he lapped long stripes inside of you. "Oh-oh my God." You moaned, while gently grabbing a handful of his hair, making him audibly groan.

With your back arching off the matress, he used his toungue in meticulous pattern, rubbing circles against your clit that had you squirming.

"You taste amazing, y/n." He said, in between licks, making you blush at the praise, rolling your eyes back into your head.

You felt like there was a rubber band about to snap inside of you. "I´m close, Calum." You groaned, as you felt your pussy twitch in electryfing pleasure. "Come for me." He said with a deep gravel in his voice.

You felt that cord snap, cumming all over his face, coating his stubble. "Holy fuck." You laughed.

"Take off your clothes please, I want to see you." You begged Calum. "Your wish is my command, princess." He took off his long sleeve shirt. "You have tattoos, they´re beautiful." You said, trailing your hands through his biceps.

"Thanks, princess." He smiled, taking off his pants and his boxers. You watched his erection spring up, hitting his stomach, making your jaw drop. Precum was bubbling on his tip.

"I need you inside me, Calum." You mewled. "So needy..." He chuckled. "Please."

Grabbing your back with his large hands, he slowly filled you up. making sure you were getting used to his size. "Are you okay?" He asked. You just nodded, biting your lip. "You can move now." You told him. His opened mouth turned into a long drawn out moan,

The stretch turned into pleasure, while he pushed into you, you made obscene noises, looking him in the eyes making him go absolutely feral. "You're gonna be the death of me, y/n." He groaned.

He started picking up the pace, while your nails scratched his back, he was wincing at the pain, but he enjoyed this very much.

You were moaning wantonly, and he pressed his hand against your stomach, only doubling your already unbearable pleasure even more.

"I´m gonna come, please fill me up, Calum." You moaned, not even thinking about the words that you said.

There was always the risk of pregnancy, if you were to get pregnant, you could be forced to marry him, but you didn´t think it was a bad idea after all.

"Yeah, want me to fill you up with my babies?" He moaned, while you bit your lip. "Yes, please, that´s all I want."

Calum´s weight on you, and the way his cock drives into you makes your eyes roll back, your brain going fuzzy. Every nerve inside you being stimulated at the same time.

"Oh god - Oh, Calum!" You exclaim, clenching your walls. "Cum for me, y/n, wanna see that pretty pussy cum all over my cock." Like a button was pressed, you gushed all over him, panting.

He buries his face into your neck, and you feel hot ropes of cum inside you, you ride him through his orgasm, watching his muscles relax.

He smiled and tucked your hair behind your ear. "Let´s get you cleaned up, shall we, princess?" You smiled and nodded. "That would be great, thank you."

Grabbing a wet washcloth, he helped you clean up, and put your dress back on.

You both laid down, facing each other.

"Your fiancé never touched you like this?" He had a soft expresison on his face. "Not really, just got off for himself if i´m being honest." You replied.

"What a cunt." He rolled his eyes. You burst out laughing. "Yeah, you could say that." You smiled.

Your expression turned serious. "You know there´s a chance we could have a baby, right?" You asked him. "Yes, I know." He softened his gaze. "You´d have to marry me." You added. "Yes, I know." He repeasted and smiled.

You smiled back. "Would you like that?" He asked. "I would love it." You grinned back.

[mendes-bae]

A fair exchange – part six

series masterlist ; part five ; part seven

Part six summary: Velarys and Aemond meet again.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x (F) Targaryen!reader

Warning: NSFW 🔞 incest, angst, kissing, smut, PiV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, CHARACTER DEATH.

Author's note: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! this is my first time writing a fic in English, so beforehand, i'm sorry 👀

All the rights belong to the showrunners of HOTD and George R.R Martin, author of Fire and blood & Song of ice and fire series‼️

Word count: 2460

Velarys accepted Lord Lyon's advice and reached for the room Aemond was in.

The princess took courage and opened the room door. When she entered, her husband was on the balcony, looking the most beautiful garden she had ever seen. The white linen curtains contrasted with his black leather outfit.

Aemond heard footsteps behind him and turned around.

Velarys saw him after so many days and felt her body relax. She could run to him and hug his body so tightly that it could leave him without air.

"I knew you would come sooner or later to visit your dear friend" he said with his hoarse voice.

Aemond set the golden goblet of wine on a small nearby table and crossed his arms over his chest.

Velarys walked to the table in the center of the room and poured herself a glass of water just to avoid Aemond's gaze and keep her hands busy since they were shaking.

"What are you doing here?" She asked bringing the small goblet to her lips.

"I guess the same as you, getting allies for my king"

She clicked her tongue after the liquid went down her throat.

"I see you haven't changed your mind" She put the glass back on the mahogany table.

"Aren't you glad to see me?" Her husband ignored what Velarys just said.

"I thought you wouldn't be so happy to see me"

"I will always want to see you, sweet wife" He approached the princess, causing her to step back and collide with the wooden table. "Even though you have abandoned me"

"I had no choice. You made me choose between you and my sister"

"Did you ever consider that perhaps Rhaenyra is not a good candidate for the Iron Throne?"

"She..."

"And maybe Aegon isn't either"

Velarys looked at him strangely, since each one had already made it clear where their loyalties lay.

"Have you ever thought that maybe second children are a better option?" Aemond moved even closer to his wife, so close that his nose was on her cheek.

"Not only do you want to take the power away from our sister, now you want it for yourself?"

"Have you ever imagined me on the Iron Throne?... because I have. I imagined you sitting on it, in front of you all the lords of Westereos swearing allegiance to you"

His nose traveled down her throat, his lips leaving kisses on her skin.

"You would look so sexy with a crown on your head... my queen"

Velarys had never wanted power for herself, in fact everything she did in the small council was to strengthen her sister's claim, but suddenly having Aemond talking to her like that between her legs made a fire settle in her belly.

The princess groaned at his words.

"Beg me to fuck you, my queen." Aemond said against her ear, Velarys moaned louder.

"Please... I need you like i never did before, Aemond"

The prince kept kissing her soft skin, his wet lips touching the edge of her breasts.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard that all the fucking Tyrells will hear how good I make you feel"

With nothing else to say, Aemond lifted her dress up to her hips. His hands cupped her thighs and made her legs wrap around his waist.

The prince's hand clamped down sharply on Velarys's jaw, causing her to look at him. Aemond loved Velarys's expressions.

"You have to thank your queen for sending you here, you have no idea how much I wanted to see you"

Velarys closed her eyes at his words.

"I missed you so much" The princess admitted.

Aemond brought his lips close to her.

"Me too"

The princess couldn't resist and leaned down to kiss him. It was a kiss like no other they had shared, it was desperate and wild.

Suddenly, Aemond let go of her wife and took her by the shoulders before turning her around. The skin of her hips crashed against the table, her ass pointed at her husband's manhood.

Aemond saw her exposed pale skin and felt a sudden desire: following his instincts, he reached down and bit her ass cheeks.

Velarys let out a scream of surprise and lust, her husband laughed at her reaction.

"Aemond" the princess moaned with desire.

Her husband quickly dropped his black leather pants to his ankles and lustfully guided his cock to her wet entrance.

He entred to her cunt with one thrust and both of them gasped at the sensation.

"I missed this pussy"

Velarys pinched his ass and with her fingers pulled him closer to her, feeling his cock deeper into her.

"Move"

"Whatever my queen asks for"

Aemond didn't stop for playing games, he began to move quickly against his wife's butt.

The sound of their skins bumping against each other and their muffled moans were heard throughout the room and surely outside of it, but they didn't care that someone could hear them.

The prince released Velarys's breasts, which were bouncing from their sudden movements, he took them in his hands and massaged them how he knew his wife loves.

Velarys moaned and guided her left hand to her clit and caressed it desperately.

"Cum for me, my queen"

Only Gods knew how it turned on her hearing him call her that.

After a few thrusts later, wet kisses and caresses, both reached their climax.

Aemond moaned against the white-haired woman's neck as she dropped her head against his shoulder.

Neither of them wanted to move, afraid that this intimate moment would slip through their fingers like water.

"I hate this" Velarys admitted turning her head, looking at her husband out of the corner of her eye.

"Me too" Aemond confessed.

They stayed like that, holding each other for several minutes until Aemond walked a few steps away and got dressed. Velarys did the same.

"Otto sent me here, but clearly I didn't get anything from the Tyrells, they hate my grandfather" said her husband adjusting his wrinkled shirt.

"It's not hard to do so" Aemond didn't reply, his wife was right after all.

"I will depart for Storm's End, immediately"

Velarys couldn't help but think of Luke.

"Why are you telling me all this? We are supposed to be on the enemy side"

"You will never be my enemy, Velarys" said her husband caressing her cheek. "You did what you thought was right, I can't blame you"

Velarys pressed herself against her husband's palm.

"Is it too late to regretted it?" The princess asked with tears in her eyes.

"I think so"

Lovers from opposing sides kissed for the last time before returning to their monarchs.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys returned from Dorne and felt a tense atmosphere. She hoped to lighten it with the good news she brought for her sister: the Tyrells had kept their word and would serve Rhaenyra as their rightful queen, gathering as many soldiers as they could from their vassal houses and fighting the Hightowers and their allies. On the other hand, Princess Aliandra had pledged some of her Dornish army and sworn knights to the cause on the sole condition that Dorne would remain independent and maintain its rule in the south as it had for the past 130 years.

The princess freed her hands from the leather gloves and entered the council room. There was no one there but Rhaenyra and a few members of the Black council. Her sister turned to meet the arrival of her first envoy but before she could say anything, Daemon hurried into the room and Velarys immediately knew something was wrong.

"What's going on?" asked the Queen of Westeros.

Daemon hesitated for a moment but then said carefully:

"Aemond murdered Lucerys on his way back from Storm's End" her sister's husband waited a moment to continue "The fishermen found Arrax's remains on the shore"

Velarys knew her uncle was not lying, Aemond himself had told her that he would visit Lord Baratheon in search of allies for the Greens. The princess also knew of the grudge that her husband had towards her nephews, of the rivalry that had been going on for years between the princes and the desire for revenge that Aemond felt especially towards Luke.

However, Velarys never thought or imagined that Aemond, her Aemond, hers, would be capable of killing a child.

The princess felt a stabbing pain in her belly as she heard Rhaenyra's piercing screams and pleas for her little boy.

Velarys wanted to get closer to her sister but a sharper pain settled in her low belly. Alerted, the princess lifted her dress quickcly, unashamed by the lords gazes who saw her.

She touched her thighs and discovered that her hand was full of blood. In a panic she looked at Rhaenyra across the room and her gaze told her what she already sensed.

Suddenly, everything turned black.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys woke up with a gash in her lower belly, dizzy and with a slight fever.

She wanted to stand up, tear the sheets off her body and go in search of her baby, but it was useless, the maids didn't even allow her to leave her bed.

She was weak and her mouth cords made no sound. Tears in her eyes were blurring her vision.

When the Dragonstone Mester entered her room, she listened intently to what he had to say:

"I'm very sorry, your Highness" the old man handed her a small wooden box, inside she could see a mixture of limbs and white hair "I guess your didn't know you were with child"

Velarys from her bed looked at the barely formed baby and she closed her eyes tightly.

"It is at least three moons... we believe it would have been a boy, princess" Velarys took the box in her hands and with her index finger caressed what would have been her son's head "If you want, we can continue with the funeral rites"

"Leave me with him for a few moments" said the princess.

"As you wish, your Highness" the Mester bowed and left the room.

However, Velarys could not be alone with the small body for so long, because minutes later Rhaenyra entered her room.

The youngest sister couldn't look her in the eyes.

"I didn't know i was expecting…" she started to say, but the lump in her throat stopped her from speaking.

Her sister came over to her bed and sat next to her, she squeezed her free hand lovingly because she knew perfectly well how losing a child feels like.

"Seems like a fair exchange. Aemond killed Lucerys and the Gods killed his child in return. A son for a son" Velarys rasped.

"Vela..."

"I want to be alone"

Rhaenyra did what her little sister wanted, and left her in solitude.

The princess sat on her bed for hours looking at her what would have been her child, wishing she had known of his existence earlier.

She refused to cry for another baby, ignored the pain that ate at her and hated every God who had punished her so cruelly.

Hours later, her lady-in-waiting, Rose Westerling, entered the princess's room and saw her at her desk writing on a scroll.

"Do you need anything, Princess?" asked the young lady.

Velarys did not look at her but she spoke as she finished reading what she had written:

"Could you do me a favor, Rose?"

"Anything, My Princess"

"Could you send this to King's Landing?"

"Immediately, your Highness"

She took the paper from Velarys's trembling hands and left the chambers of the white-haired woman.

She wished that only Aemond would read the letter from her handwriting:

If you ever felt love for me, meet me on Claw Isle at sunset.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys knew it would take at least a couple of hours for the raven to reach the capital. As the hour approached, she wrapped herself in a cloak and went out in search of her dragon.

The princess moved painfully close to Vaghnar and the dragon groaned as he felt his rider. The woman could barely walk and every step she took felt like hell itself.

She approached her dragon, took one of his heads and cradled it in her hands, then brought her forehead together.

"Gimigho" I know, she spoke to Vaghnar in a whisper.

Both shared the mourning for the death of her son, Vaghnar was extremely connected to Velarys and felt just as destroyed as the princess.

She petted him some more and with pain and blood loss, she rode the back of her dragon to fly away from Dragonstone.

They flew for miles and when they saw Claw Isle in the distance, they descended to the shore.

Velarys dismounted Vaghnar, and saw Aemond on the beach.

When he heard Vaghnar, he got up from the ground, brushed the sand from his pants and hurried to the princess.

She wasn't that happy to see him, she made it clear when she slapped his face hard.

Aemond knew he deserved it.

"You killed our nephew" she said bluntly "You were selfish enough to hide it, a group of fishermen found his mutilated body on the shores of Dragonstone Bay, Daemon told Rhaenyra this morning"

"I didn't mean to, I..."

"Even though you did it" she said looking into his eyes for the first time "You left a mother without her son... you know very well how it feels like, how could you do this to her?".

For the first time, she felt a tear roll down her cheek.

"How could you do this to Rhaenyra knowing what it's like to lose a child?" Velarys said wiping away her tears "You felt that pain firsthand, Aemond... it's a feeling I wouldn't wish even to my worst enemy"

"My life will not be long enough to ask for forgiveness, Velarys" he said regretfully "And for that, the Gods will punish me"

"They already did it"

"What are you talking about?"

Velarys pushed back her cloak and took from her small bag the wooden box that the Mester had let her keep, then handed it to her husband.

He took it hesitantly and opened it. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"That is...?"

Velarys just nodded.

"I called him Rhyserys" she admitted, looking at the little body in the box.

Aemond hugged Velarys tightly, and for that moment the war no longer mattered to him.

It didn't matter if the Blacks or the Greens won the Dance of the Dragons, if Aegon or Rhaenyra sat on the Iron Throne, it only mattered about Velarys and showing her how sorry he was, even though nothing he does now would change what his actions had made.

Part seven

Taglist

@mynameisbaby9 @princessmiaelicia @sustisama @daddysfavoritesexkitten @deeeeexx @zverea @tempo-rary-fix @stargaryenx @filmelunar @yor72 @remuslupinwifee @fuckinglittlekitten @may-machin @kaitieskidmore1 @zillahvathek @marvelita85 @25falsafielisa @solacestyles @polireader @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @loomipee @leoramage @iiamthehybrid @darylandbethfanforever9 @bregarc @justpassinbxx @sandronebabyy @ms-dont-care @julianaaleticia @nctma15 @isaxbella749 @tivedetek4869 @maviee @gimalo135 @fedeffy

[trancylovecraft]

REQUEST LIST!

(Here is where I list all of my current works and the order in which I (might) be doing them. If you request and it shows up here, Great! It has been accepted. If it doesn't, It has not been accepted for reasons such as requesting when I am closed, Breaking the cafe policy or something unspecified.)

Thank you!

(Your order will be done by a first come first serve policy. This doesn't apply ONLY to my moots, their requests will be pushed to the front as a priority. )

Requested works:

12. Yandere! Mephisto Pheles x Reader: Headcannons

11. Yandere Platonic! Lewin Light x Sister! Reader (AOEX) (Headcanon/Drabble)

10. Yandere! Lucifer/Lewin Light x Willing!Reader (AOEX) (i was closed but u are so lucky i have a soft spot for aoex😭)

9. Yandere! Adam x Reader (Headcannons) (Hazbin Hotel)

8. Yandere! Scanty x Reader (Headcannons)

7. Yandere Platonic Big Brother! Arthur A. Angel x Okumura Triplets (Reader, Rin, Yukio)

6. Yandere L Lawliet Alphabet

5. Yandere Amaimon x Reader: Headcannons

4. Yandere! Douma x Reader (Drabble)

3. Yandere! Teen! Joe Secondopinionson x Reader: Headcannons (Dating in highschool)

2. Yandere! Shinobu x Half-Demon Reader: Headcannons (One of Readers parents are a demon, Slightly stowonger with da claws.)

1. Kokushibo x Sakura Loving Oiran Reader: Selenic Season (Pt. 2 to Renewal Season) (Oneshot)

Unrequested works:

4. Yandere Platonic! Shiro, Arthur x Reader, Rin, Yukio: Devil Slices (Oneshot/Series)

3. Yandere Platonic! Mephisto Pheles x Daughter Reader: Liminal Princess (Oneshot) (AOEX)

2. Shinobu & Mitsuri & [F/N]: Harajuku Girls (YSIK off-shoot)

Yandere Platonic! Demon Kings x Reader: The Blood of an Unwilling Covenant (Eight-Part Series) (AOEX)

[dreamlandcreations]

Thank you for the tag @kayhi808

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

I'm starting a new post bc I have too many WIPs (and these are just the ones in my drafts) 🙈

tag as many people as there are documents... but but but there are more than a hundred drafts 😭 anyway

tagging: @zablife @raincoffeeandfandoms @cinebration @marvelmusing @massivecolorspygiant @celestialspecial @stardustmorozov @startrekkingaroundasgard @oneeyedvisenya @happilyhertale @drabbles-mc @withmyteeth @runnning-outof-time @storiesbyrhi @nickfowlerrr

Little Miller - Benny Miller x Reader

Not tonight - Boba Fett x assassin!Reader (x Fennec Shand)

Speak freely - Boba Fett x half alien!Reader (platonic)

Games - Boba Fett x Mandalorian!Reader

Just a simple man - Jango Fett x half alien!Reader

Happily ever after - Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Hey, Kid - Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

First - Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

The King - Tattooed Biker!Boba Fett x Reader

A deal is a deal - Raymond Smith x half Asian!Reader

Day and Night - Brother Day x Reader

Second Chances - Boba Fett x force sensitive!Reader

One King - Bishop x vampire!Reader (Night Teeth!au)

Reality - Boba Fett x force sensitive!Reader

I know what day it is - Bishop x Reader

Slave to Sensation - changeling!Billy Russo x psy!Reader

Angel's crush - Bishop x tattoo artist!reader

What you need - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

What you want - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

What you have - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

Tangled, twisted or maybe something right - Billy Russo x Stark!Reader

Best friend - Bucky Barnes x Wilson!Reader

Stranger - Billy Russo x Reader

Apprentice - Doctor Strange x sorceress!Reader

Misery loves company - Venom x Reader x Eddie

We broke up - Eddie x Reader x Venom

Once upon a time - King Arthur x royal!Reader

Wicked - shifter!Santi x witch!Reader

Desert Flower - shifter!Benny x (non)human!Reader

Reaper - Venom x Reader x Eddie

The proposal (Would you like to series) Tommy x Reader x Alfie

Kissing Alfie Solomons - Alfie x Reader

Lighten up - Darkling x Fjerdan!Reader

Faeted hearts - fae king!Alfie x half-fae!Reader

Castaway AU - Billy Russo x Reader

Grimm AU - blutbad!Alfie x grimm!Reader

Fearless - Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

I'm here for you - Billy Russo x Reader

Scheming, games and secrets - Alfie x Reader + Tommy

Fortune Favours the Brave - Eddie Munson x cheerleader!Reader

What women want - Billy Russo x genderfluid/nonbinary(afab)!Reader

Slayer - dragon shifter!Alfie Solomons x warrior princess!Reader

See you at the office - Alfie Solomons x ex-assistant!Reader

Weave it into words - (clan leader) king!Alfie Solomons x Shelby princess!Reader (Brave AU)

Crave the love - prince!Billy Russo x princess!Reader

Jeweller - Alfie Solomons x Tatiana's cousin!Reader

What's underneath? - Alfie x Reader

You only need to ask - Raymond Smith x aristocrat!Reader

What about dessert? - chef!Alfie x manager!Reader (modern!au)

The bright side - FO!Poe Dameron x Jedi!Reader

More than seeking comfort - Eddie Brock x Reader

Bait - Derek Hale x hunter!Reader

Cosy on the throne - Tattooed Biker!Boba Fett x Reader

This is not your color - Eddie Munson x Reader

Distraction - Max x Reader (Mad Max: Fury Road)

Three is still a company - Billy Russo x Reader x Frank Castle

You missed a spot - Brother Day x Reader

Behind closed doors - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

Don't mind me - Alfie Solomons x Reader (x Tommy Shelby)

Feeling adventurous? - Eddie Munson x Reader

I can wait - Alina x Reader (Darkling x Alina x Mal)

Why the f*ck not? - Alfie Solomons x Reader x May Carleton x Tommy Shelby

Solace - Boba Fett x Reader

First time - Billy Russo x Reader

I'm all yours - Billy Russo x Reader

Patience - Billy Russo x Reader

The Happiest Day of Our Lives - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

Mirror, mirror - Aleksander Morozova x Reader (xAlina)

Perfect - Darkling x Reader

Necessary evil - Darkling x Inferni!Reader

King of the Seven Seas - Atlantean king!Alfie x Reader

Don't you f*cking dare - chef!Alfie Solomons x manager!Reader

Do you doubt me? - James Delaney x Strange!Reader

Remedy - James Delaney x Reader

Unexpected - Matt Murdock x Reader x Elektra

Sweet torment - Alfie Solomons x Reader

Mr CEO - Billy Russo x Reader

Complications - Darkling x reader

Preying on you tonight - werewolf!Billy Russo x Reader

Sweet victory - Jake Seresin x Reader

The fun kind - Jake Seresin x Reader

Catch me if you can - Jake Seresin x Reader

Black and White - Darkling x Fjerdan princess!Reader

Stay Forever - Jake Seresin x BFF!Reader

In my corner - Billy Russo x Reader

Heartbeat - Milo/Lucien Crown x Reader

Just friends - modern!Alfie Solomons x Reader

That's the rule - Jake Seresin x Reader

Fire and Blood - Daemon x daughter!Reader (platonic)

The Bronze Witch - Aemond Targaryen x Daemon's daughter!Reader

Unity - Darkling x Fjerdan!Reader x Nikolai Lantsov

Risk and reward - Jake Seresin x Reader

Late night visit - Aemond x Reader

Peace offering - Aemond x Reader

The first warning - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Stay with me - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Like calls to like - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Darkest hearts - Darkling x Nikolai's twin!Reader

Nothing - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Heartbreak - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

The eternity of this day - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

A dream come true - Eames x Reader

A debt to be paid - Aemond x Reader

Honourable Quest - Xenk Yendar x Reader

Honouring a Debt - Xenk Yendar x Reader

Sacrifice of Honour - Xenk Yendar x Reader

My Queen - Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Naru - Sesshōmaru x modern!Reader

Fire and Blood, Ashes and Dust - Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

Give him to me - Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

The Taming of the Dragon - Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

The day you died - supervillain!Darkling x superhero!Reader

[hopeamarsu]

Whumptober Day 9: The Very Noisy Night

Whumptober masterlist

King Arthur (King Arthur: The Legend of the Sword) x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Seeking shelter, huddling for warmth, wounds, sexual tension

Summary: It's going to be a long, noisy night and you can't sleep, too worried over his wounds.

Sleeping in Shifts | tossing and turning | Caught in a Storm

You huddled deeper into the furs on the floor and over your body, the dying embers of the flame from the fireplace barely keeping you warm. It was going to get even colder in the abandoned monastery you and your crew had sought shelter from the storm. 

The wind outside howled like a banshee and every once in a while, something heavy and powerful struck the earth, shooking it down to its core. Your only hope was that the torrential rain that accompanied the lightning strikes would make sure this forest wouldn’t burn. The same rain that had drowned you all like rats and made your crew locate in this place by the mountain. 

You didn’t know whether to curse or bless the lads for electing you to take the first shift while the rest of them piled close to the fireplace and began to sleep. Well, all but one it seemed. Your eyes shifted from the open doorway to look at Arthur, who had chosen a spot not with the rest of the lads but a little closer to you. 

“Is your arm bothering you?” You whispered, nodding towards arm draped over his stomach on a makeshift sling. The blond man grinned, seemingly unbothered by the stinging pain he must be in. 

“It’s but a love bite,” Arthur quipped, jovial smile on his lips. 

You knew better though. The boar had nearly taken out his entire arm and it had been sheer luck Arthur had been able to twist in a way that made the tusks only clip his arm, not pierce it completely. The animal had met its demise soon after and was strapped to the back of the wagon. The blood that had spilled from his wounds would haunt your nightmares though. 

“Will you let me look at it once I wake up Wet Stick for his shift?” You were the designated healer in the group after all. The need to make sure he was well on the mend coursed in your veins, calling for confirmation of that. The man had the audacity to wink, offering you another grin. 

“Sweet One, if you want me naked, all you have to do is ask.”

“Arthur…” You warned him quietly, both to keep him quiet as not to wake the lads and not show him just how much he meant to you. How much he’d always meant to you and how much it had scared you to see him hurt like that. 

Sure, you knew the man was capable to look after himself but just like he kept an eye out for the girls at the brothel you had both grown up in, you kept your eye on him. You cared for him and felt fear in your heart every time he went out of his way to get himself in trouble. Arthur seemed to sense something shift in the air between you because his eyes grew warmer, more gentle. 

“Of course, Sweet One. I’m all yours.”

If only he was truly yours, you sighed and smiled weakly in his direction. It must’ve been too weak and too visible, because suddenly Arthur straightened himself and slipped out from under his own furs. He crossed the room in a swagger, despite his injury before lowering himself beside you. Soundlessly, he picked up some of the furs and slid underneath. You were now closer than ever and his proximity made you shiver for an entire different reason than the bitter cold wind howling outside. 

“What’s the matter, love? Tell me.” He demanded softly, his uninjured hand coming up to cradle your cheek. “What has you all worried?” 

“You. That boar,” You whispered, unable to hide from him now that he was this close. His blue eyes were piercing and focused on you, making you feel like you were the center of his world at the moment. You were sure he saw all of you now, nothing remained hidden under the furs. Not your body, not your heart, not your soul. “I am fine, sweetheart, I promise. You did an excellent job with the poultice, I hardly feel a thing.” 

His hand cupped your cheek, cradled it in its large paw. There was something intimate about the gesture and you found yourself wishing you could kiss him. Arthur leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours as he searched for something in your eyes. You tried to keep them open, no matter how vulnerable the moment made you feel. How raw, since you knew you were shit at hiding emotions. 

“Sweet One…” He breathed out, awe in his tone but before you could answer, a shuffling coming from the pile of bodies behind him made both you and Arthur tense. A final flicker of light in his deep blue eyes as they dipped down to your lips and back up again longingly, he moved further away, making you feel colder than the night air around you. 

“I’m up, I’m up,” Wet Stick yawned. His head twisted from side to side, the horrible crack and pop of his bones making you wince. You hadn’t even begun to move, when an arm shot out to rest at your hip. Surprised, you looked at it before turning your wide eyes to look at the gorgeous man who came with the muscled arm.   

“Go back to sleep, Wet Stick.” Arthur’s voice spoke, cutting the air like a whip. His eyes, now darkened with passion, pinned you down. “I’ve got the next shift.”

“Boss,” Wet Stick groaned happily, before flopping back down and falling asleep instantly. Neither of you heard it though, too focused on one another. “I believe you had a wound to inspect,” Arthur grinned, cutting through the tension gathering up like the storm outside your sanctuary. “Will you allow me to conduct my own investigation after that? You’ve kept me up half the night already with impure thoughts and I feel the need to find out if your lips are as sweet as your name.” 

[miloformula123fan]

100 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION

well i think the first thing I need to say is thank you so much :). i love all of you and all the love you've shown all my work so far, so if anything this is a thank you to you.

Rules:

Pick 2 letters, one for the driver and one for the reader - i will then make a moodboard

my guidelines are here

i am only writing for the drivers listed

this is only for moodboards, however my requests will remain open through the celebration so if you're inspired by this but want something else instead feel free to head to my inbox :)

please be patient - it may take me a few hours to do yours, but depending on how many requests I get, it could take a few days

please specify gender, else i'll probably make it gender neutral

for now no limit on how many requests 1 person can submit, but if i get overwhelmed I will

the event will either close 29th of feb or when i hit 200 followers :)

NOW TO THE CELEBRATION:

PICK 2 LETTERS - ONE FOR DRIVER AND 1 FOR READER

---

drivers!

A - Alex Albon

B -  Ollie Bearman

C - Charles Leclerc

D - Mick Schumacher

E - Esteban Ocon

F - Fernando Alonso

G - George Russell

H - Liam Lawson

I - Arthur Leclerc

J - Jack Doohan

K - Kimi Raikkonen

L - Lewis Hamilton

M - Max Verstappen

N - Lando Norris

O - Oscar piastri

P - Pierre Gasly

Q - Logan Sargeant

R - Daniel Ricciardo

S - Carlos Sainz

T - Yuki Tsunoda

U - Lance Stroll

V - Sebastian Vettel

W - Mark Webber

X - Paul Aron

Y - Nico Rosberg

Z - Jenson Button

---

Readers - 

A - actor/actress!reader

B - baker!reader

C - ceo!reader

D - director!reader

E - engineer!reader

F - florist!reader

G - pageant!queen/king!reader

H - Heir/Heiress!reader

I  - influencer!reader

J - Parent!reader

K - figure skater!reader

L - lawyer!reader

M - model!reader

N - musician!reader

O - animal shelter worker!reader

P  - photographer!reader

Q - f1 driver!reader

R - rockstar!reader

S - sports!reader

T - teacher!reader

U - tattoo artist!reader

V - idol!reader

W - author!reader

X - artist!reader

Y - bodyguard!reader

Z - spouse!reader

[eris-snow]

𝐀 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐲

Tags: Deku's birthday series 2023, izuku x fem!reader, angst

And it’s stupid that you feel this way, because, who falls in love and stays devoted, to someone who is always out of reach?

I asked 3 different people on how to cheer you up, but no one got it quite right, so I ended up going with my own idea. I’m glad that you’re feeling better. P.s, my offer still stands. I’m a wall away if you need to talk. Just swing by.

- Izuku

That was Izuku’s note to you yesterday. One you find pasted so haphazardy on your Mathematics test paper that…for some reason had Shakespeare on it.

This was probably right before your little incident had taken place.

Last night was a painful blur that was highlighted by Izuku’s warm arms around you, Izuku’s comforting words, Izuku’s steady patting on your back that reminded you how to breathe again.

To cut to the chase, it was a lot of…Izuku.

Thankfully, the nerd made the swift conclusion after accessing your cursed sleep-talking and wolf howl of a scream to assume that he had died in your nightmare. And technically, that was sort of true.

Kind of.

That night had scared the living daylights out of you, and probably out of Izuku as well. He hid his fear well, but…you remember his trembling fingers and shaky exhales.

He had been scared too.

--

“Izuku, I’m going there on Saturday.” You announce as you slam your tray down at his table. Green eyes meet yours, his smile dissolving as his eyebrows crunch together in confusion. It takes 5 seconds for him to realise what you’re talking about. “Oh.”

Katsuki stares between the two of you, fork in his hand and a look of petulant frustration lining his features. “Where?” He spits, stabbing his cutlet. “Stop being so vague like y’all are hotshots sitting around King Arthur’s round table. We’re teenagers who have class in twenty minutes sitting at a table made of plastic. Quit with the theatrics.”

You sighs, slumping down in your seat. “Hi, Katsuki.”

“Shortie.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku frowns. “Starlight meant the lake. The clearing she showed me when you refused to join us on our picnic a month after the war ended?”

Sharp, scarlet eyes widen in recognition as he chews his food, eyes flying to you. “You mean—”

“Yes, that clearing with the weeping willow tree thing.” You interrupt, eyes conveying your message loud and clear: Zip it.

Katsuki shoots back a glare, which ultimately says: Don’t tell me what to do, asshole.

“I don’t give a shit,” He grumbles, stabbing his food again. “That spot is practically a ‘you’ spot. I want nothing to do with it.”

It was a nice little clearing you’d found not too deep into the forest. It was one of those spots that were straight out of a story: A crystal-clean lake that was small but beautiful, and a weeping willow that casted a shadow for shade.

You used to go there often.

Turning back to you, Izuku gives you a hopeful smile. “Can I join you? I want to visit Mom.”

You nod your head. “Of course. We can have a picnic there! It’s been awhile since we last went. We can even skip rocks or find other games to play!”

Smiling to himself, Izuku takes a bite of his meal. “Sounds great, Starlight.”

--

When I introduced this game to you, it wasn’t my first time playing Secrets.

Izuku tilts his head and looks at you questioningly, Post-it note still in his hands. Was this game introduced to you? Did this mean you played this game with someone other than him? The thought makes his stomach churn. He doesn’t like that idea.

“Oh, stop with that look,” You chide as you do your sit-ups. “It’s not what you think.”

“Well, what am I thinking then?” He demands, shoving the sticky note under his bottle as he walks over to you. He sits down on the floor next to you, holding your ankles so that you can perform the sit-ups at a faster pace.

Expression neutral, you don’t stop your reps as your reply without missing a beat. “You look like I just betrayed you for introducing a bonding game from my childhood to you, but you know that isn’t fair so you’re not saying anything so that you don’t come off as selfish.”

“I didn’t say that!” Izuku defends quickly.

You pause mid-sit-up. “Did you think it though?”

His head droops. “Yes.”

You laugh, a smile forming on your lips. “I used to have this…friend. We used to live pretty close by, actually, before he-uh,” You swallowed, eyes hazy for a moment. “Moved.”

Izuku doesn’t stop you and lets you continue. “We came up with it together. At first, it was just a form of communication, like passing notes in class. But slowly, it became more…personal.” You smile fondly while you recite the memory, and Izuku listens carefully, hanging on your every word. “We started falling into the habit of doing it more often until it was on a daily basis. Simple things like, ‘I was actually really mad when this happened, even though I pretended that everything was fine.’”

Your smile is so tender as you recall the origins of the seemingly meaningless game. But this isn’t meaningless to him. This was special beyond words, even though it seemed ordinary or simple.

“That sounds really nice,” The One For All wielder comments, eyes swarming with understanding.

“It was,” You agree, eyes shifting to Izuku. “I introduced it to you because you’re someone I trust. I just…wanted you to know that you could do the same.”

A fiery blush creeps across his face as his heart melts when he hears you say that. He hadn’t realised how lucky he’d gotten when you became his friend. Izuku’s eyes are averted as he fiddles with the fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt. “You’ve made me really want to hug you now, but I can’t because we’re both gross and drenched in sweat.” He grumbles, making you laugh.

“I’m sorry,” You tease, nudging him playfully.

“You’re not forgiven.”

The both of you burst into a fit of giggles, before he helps you up. “Ready to go? We still have homework to do.”

Nodding, you grab your water bottle and follow Izuku out of the gym to head back to the dorms. And that’s when that question comes back.

“How are your nightmares?” He asks quietly, changing the subject. “Did you sleep better last night?’

You wish you could just forget last night. And the stupidest thing is, that had been the best sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

“Dreamless,” You confirm, rubbing your own arm sheepishly. “Thanks for yesterday. That, uh, meant a lot to me.”

“No, no! It wasn’t a problem! I’m glad I was there to help.” In all honesty, Izuku’s relieved. He knows how painful it is, getting bombarded with wave after wave of nightmares that seem so vivid. “Do you…get those nightmares a lot?”

There’s a pause, before you nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I know how that feels,” He admits, “I hate dreaming about losing people.”

Your scream echoes in his mind again, and it makes him shudder. He can’t stand the nightmares that he loses you in.

“Me too,” Your voice sounds…small, uncertain, so Izuku leaves the subject as that. Instead, he switches back to your story about your game with him, still interested in what you had to say.

“What did happen to him?” Izuku asks suddenly, standing outside the dorms now.

“Huh?”

“I meant, the guy you originally used to play the game with. Is he still around?”

You stare at him with a surprised look, a myriad of emotions flashing through your eyes. Your smile is dismissive, but there’s a hint of sadness in it when you reply.

“He’s long gone now.”

[vecna-is-here]

Camelot - part I

Paring: JCB Arthur x F! Reader

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

Part of a fluff, h/c series

For @jcbbby @moonlitdark @ram6421-blog @lma1986

You had heard rumours about the new king. Some claimed he was just a boy, some said he was the bastard of a peasant, and others said he was just an imposter. You knew Merlin had something to do with it, and that meant it was serious. You were intrigued enough to ride to Camelot to see for yourself. Perhaps, if he was truly the new king of the Britons, he could use the help of a druid.

It didn’t matter how much you loved your small cottage at the edge of the woods, your gut had told you to go. That was this morning, and now you were laying in bed in a castle ruin. Camelot was breathtaking. And so was Arthur… His grace and handsomeness had taken you by surprise, to say the least.

After getting past the guards and putting your horse in the stables you entered the great hall. You pushed the doors open and walked inside as they gave in with a creaking groan.

‘Stop!’ you heard and saw a man pulling his sword. He held it up to your throat and held it there.

‘I mean no harm.’ you said in a calm voice. All were surprised to hear that the cloaked figure was a woman… You removed your hood and your hair fell down your back and shoulders.

‘Remove your sword.’ you said, your tone was confident and commanding, yet innocent sounding. You looked the man in the eye and stared at him, waiting for him to pull himself together.

‘That’s enough, Leontes!’ you heard. You looked up and saw a young man standing in the middle of the room. Leontes’ eyes were narrowed as if he was looking for signs you weren’t to be trusted. After letting out a silent sign you pushed his blade away with two fingers and walked into the room. The crowd consisted of only men, and they were wary of a woman as fearless as you.

You slowly approached the young man and inspected his face while doing so. He had to be the king; he wore the fur cloak that belonged to Uther. He was around the same age as you. His hair was a bit longer and messy, his face well-built and handsome. His blue eyes were mesmerising and a blonde lock of hair rested playfully on his forehead. You stood in front of him now, and you noticed how tall he was.

You bent down: ‘I pledge you my honour.’

You heard him chuckle sweetly and looked up - it made you realise just how handsome he was. ‘Please, I’m not your king.’ he said, ‘At least not yet.’. He offered you a hand which you accepted.

‘You will be soon enough.’ a man standing next to him said. You’d recognise that face anywhere.

‘Merlin.’ you said with a raised brow, followed by a laugh.

‘Y/N.’ he replied, cracking a smile. He turned to the young king and said: ‘This is Y/N, a druid and healer.’.

Merlin had knocked on your door once, seeking your help. He got injured during a fight and needed a healer. You took him in and tended to him. You were much younger than the great sorcerer, but your skills with herbs and healing were beyond him.

‘I’m Arthur.’ the blonde man said with a gentle smile.

‘Are you planning to stay? Because we could very much use you.’ Merlin asked pressingly. You were not only a witch; you could fight as well.

‘I will, if you’ll have me…’ you said hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with the king as you did.

‘Of course, we’d be honoured.’ Arthur said - his eyes sparkled with joy.

[vi-does-stuff]

Can't Take My Hands Off

Obi-Wan Kenobi x f!reader

Tags deepthroating, praise kink, dominant obi-wan kenobi, no y/n

Word count 822

After a Halloween party, you can't stop yourself from showing Obi-Wan how much you appreciate him. For Kinktober day 9: deepthroating/praise kink/costumes

ao3

“Taking me so well, aren’t you sweetheart?”

You can’t help but press your thighs together and moan at the comment, though the sound is muffled by Obi-Wan’s cock in your mouth. You look up at him, meeting his eyes — you know he loves when you do that — before glancing up yet further at the crown that’s still on his head. He’d dressed up as King Arthur for Halloween, and hadn’t fully removed the costume before you’d ushered him over to a chair and sank down to your knees. He’s looked ridiculously good all night, and it’s been difficult waiting until you’re home to act on how he’s made you feel.

Obi-Wan’s hands are resting at the nape of your neck, fingers just about pushing through your hair, as though he needs to anchor himself to you as you hollow your cheeks. You pull back slightly so that you can lick his frenulum, and if you could, you’d grin at the way his grip instantly tightens. There’s an apologetic look on his face, and he removes his hands, placing them somewhat awkwardly on his thighs. That won’t do.

You take his cock out of your mouth. “Obi-Wan, you don’t have to be so careful with me. I don’t mind.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You really don’t?” You nod. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“I like it, Obi-Wan.” You flick your eyes down, before looking back up at him with the look on your face you know he can’t resist. “I want you to use me. Make you feel good. Make me gag. I don’t care.” You’ve done this before, several times, but you know that Obi-Wan appreciates the reminder of your willingness each time.

His gaze darkens at that, and when you take him into your mouth once more after licking his slit, his hands firmly place themselves at the back of your head again. You like the grip he has on you — feeling his hands cover so much of your head when he holds you like this just does something to you — and hum around his cock, waiting for him to take control.

“You’re so good for me, willing to do whatever I want…” he says, pulling you further onto his cock. It’s done slowly, so that you can get used to taking more of him, and you appreciate Obi-Wan’s restraint. He soon reaches the back of your throat, and you make sure to breathe through your nose as you get used to feeling him deeper inside you. “Perfect…”

Another slight push forward from Obi-Wan, and your nose is pressing against the hairs at the base of his cock. The fact that you’ve managed to take him all makes you moan, which in turn draws a similar noise from Obi-Wan, and his grip tightens against your scalp again. He doesn’t let go this time, however, and after a second, pulls you back, before thrusting into your mouth again with a satisfied noise.

“Fuck- feels so good, darling.” You press your thighs together again. It’s one of your favourite things when he talks to you like this. “Good girl. Always for me, my best girl, all I need-” he breaks off into a groan with a particularly deep thrust, your eyes half-lidded with how hazy you feel.

Obi-Wan looks down at you, properly takes notice of how you look, and is immediately even more aroused. Your lips around his cock are swollen and wet, just taking what he gives you, looking unfocused with his thrusts.

He gets closer to his peak and just keeps using you, the idea of being useful and good repeating over and over again in your brain. Heat is throbbing between your legs — you’re going to feel so desperate after this — and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from squirming.

Obi-Wan moans again. “Fuck- I’m-” After the short warning, he thrusts once more before pulsing in your mouth, and coming down your throat. You swallow it all down, still holding him in your mouth until he pulls out, oversensitive, and you relax back onto your knees. He blinks a few times, before refocusing just in time to see you wiping your mouth clean of the drool that had gathered there.

You smile up at him. “Did you like that?”

He scoffs. “Of course I did. I like anything you do.”

You grin, before moving up to straddle him, avoiding his spent cock. “That’s good to hear,” you say quietly, before pressing a kiss to his mouth. You don’t deepen it too much, but Obi-Wan moans at the taste of himself on your lips, and you can’t help but smile against him. “It would be rather a shame if you didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Obi-Wan’s hands go to your own costume, which you’d left on in the haste to suck him off, and begin to help take it off. He grins. “Now, let’s see if we can sort you out next.”

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed and didn't mind how short it was lmao

[moralesispunk]

A Knight and His Fair Maiden (Marcus Pike x F! Reader)

Summary: Marcus Pike has loved all things historical and fantastical since he was a boy but after years of teasing he has kept it hidden until he moved to DC and happened upon a Renaissance Faire

Word Count: 5.3k Warnings: mentions of bullying/ teasing, Marcus has insecurities, reader is as much of a fantastical history fan as Marcus A/n: so this started because of a fic where I wrote about Marcus feeling like he was “too much” along with a tweet I made about some Pedro characters and the one thing they would geek out about - it is a meet-cute but at the heart of this fic, I hope, it’s about being confident in your own mind

This was stupid.

He felt like an idiot.

Marcus had been sitting in his car for forty-five minutes now and his hands had been gripping his steering wheel tight save for those moments his fingers dropped to brush against his key still locked in the ignition. Sometimes as he touched them he imagined turning the engine on, reversing back out of his parking spot and driving until he was parked back in front of his apartment and could go inside to forget about the whole ordeal. The other times he thought about pulling them out, placing him in the little leather satchel attached to his belt as he stepped out his car to get lost in the crowd heading straight for the rows and rows of tents.

Every time he almost drove away something would stop him - a roaring cheer from inside the maze of tents, the chatter of a crowd walking by his car made up of well-dressed knights and maidens, the smell of turkey legs that had his stomach rumbling and reminded him of his decision to skip breakfast because of the kaleidoscope of butterflies in the pit of his stomach - but then every time he went to step out of the car his confidence would be replaced doubt and he would throw his head back against the seat.

The story of how Marcus ended up here - fighting his own mind in his car as he stared down a Renaissance Fair as if it had personally offended him - is one that began thirty years ago.

Marcus’s interest in all things knights, kings and everything fantastical that comes with them started when he picked up a book on King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table at a school book fair. He read it from front to back so many times that the pages began to fall out and the spine had to be bound together by tape and glue; it was when his Mom found him putting on tape for the third time that she decided they had to indulge this interest. His parents would buy him more books, record more documentaries, find exhibits at the local museums where he would walk around for hours and read each and every plaque - he even one time found an inaccuracy and asked his Dad to find “the manager of the museum” so he could let them know.

The point where this turned from interest to passion was when his Mom and Dad bought him the collection of the Lord of the Ring books the summer before starting High School. He had read them non-stop all summer - fighting car sickness on the eight hour journey to visit his gran, sitting by the dull lamp in his bedroom so he could find out if Boromir stole the ring off Frodo before he fell asleep, hiding in his room at family parties so he could ignore the cousins that were just too old or just too young - but then on the first day of High School, Marcus felt something he never thought he would in relation to this love - embarrassment.

“Marcus, you don't really read that shit, do you?” 

His friend, Ryan, had laughed loudly enough while pulling ‘The Return of the King’ from his bag that all his friends were now looking at the book and Marcus’s whole face burned in embarrassment. He gave a shaky excuse of “it's for my cousin,” and quickly hid it back in his bag, fighting off embarrassed tears until the final bell rang and he ran home. 

As soon as he was home he took every last book from his shelf and hid it under his bed, standing in every corner of his room to make sure that none of the spines could be read. They stayed hidden under his bed for the rest of high school and every time someone was coming over, whether it was a friend after swim practice or that one time he managed to sneak in Megan Martins when his parents were out, he double and triple checked that they were still hidden. The only time he read them was in the dead of night, finding his favorite pages and reading them again and again until he fell asleep with the book on his chest and a smile on his face. 

Marcus had hoped that when he moved away from college he could leave this embarrassment at home with the childish teasing that had him turning away from his interests in favor of the more acceptable ones like his role in the swim and baseball teams or going to whatever party was on that weekend. As he walked the halls of his dorms he saw posters on every board for something that sparked that excitement in his chest - everything from Dungeons and Dragons, which he had never heard of until now, to a Lord of the Rings trivia club - but when he did he realized that the embarrassment had soon gave way to shame and it sat heavy on his chest. He couldn’t even read the poster for a second too long without checking to see who was watching and there was absolutely no way he could ever have stepped over the threshold into one of these clubs.

Not long into his time at college Marcus met his first wife, Lucy. She was nice and pretty, and Marcus was never unhappy when they were together, but she didn’t get him and after a while Marcus realized that the absence of unhappiness is not happiness. His image of marriage had been based on his parents own happy one where they loved each and every thing about one another; he had watched his Mom patiently listen to his dad as he rambled on about old baseball games and as his Dad nodded along to his Mom’s enthusiastic retelling of every romance book she read. While Marcus had done this with Lucy, listening as she spoke about every single one of her interests, Lucy had only cringed when Marcus did this. Her smile would tighten when he started to talk a little bit faster and she would tap his hand whenever he got too loud. Soon enough - just like back in High School - Marcus had slipped his books off of the shelves to be hidden in the back of a wardrobe and he spoke less and less about the things he loved.

The only time he could really “geek out” was in his art history class. The first ever lecture was on Renaissance art, The Birth of Venus projected brightly onto the board of a pitch black lecture theater as he found a seat, and he spent the whole hour enamored with the way his professor spoke so enthusiastically about this art that she loved. It soon became his favorite part of the week, getting to see art from a period he loved while listening to someone who was unapologetically themselves as she spoke loudly and quickly about the art.

It’s why, when Marcus then went to Quantico and trained for the FBI, that he had found his way into the Art Crimes Department. He had pushed the part of him that could talk about this interest for hours on end down to the deepest part of his being, but at some point he had made the subconscious decision that if he couldn’t be open in his love for it then he could do everything in his power to protect it.

Not long after Marcus joined the Art Department he got a divorce, burying himself in his work until he eventually decided he would go back out on the dating scene. He tried to slip in his interests on one of the first dates he went on but when it was answered with a tight-lipped “oh… cool” he swapped it for baseball or swimming.

By the time he had moved to DC, another failed engagement under his belt, he had forced himself to stop thinking about it altogether - telling himself that it was just a silly childhood hobby and he didn’t need to bring it into adulthood. He had pinned his failed relationships on this - that he was too much in every way; in how he loved people and things, how he wanted to care and protect, he was just too much.

It was a random Tuesday while unpacking his new office in DC when his love for fantastical history was dropped back on his lap when a call from an unknown number flashed across his screen. After his usual answer of Agent Pike a voice he hadn’t heard in almost a decade came through the speaker.

“Lucy? Hi- Hello, how are you?”

The last time Marcus had spoken to his ex-wife had been the day they signed and filed the divorce papers. That’s not to say it was because of any ill-feelings; it had truly been an amicable divorce after having realized - after five years of marriage - that there wasn’t enough between them to sustain a friendship let alone a marriage.

In the first five minutes he had found out she was re-married and expecting their second child and he had told her of his recent promotion to the Head of the Art Crimes Department, honest congratulations shared between them before he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, Lucy, but was there a reason for this call…?”

“Oh, sorry!” She laughed and Marcus put the phone between his ear and shoulder as he tried to plug his laptop into the screens. “I went to get some things from storage for the new baby and I found two boxes with your name; they are full of books on all that knight-elf-wizard stuff so I was just wondering if you wanted me to ship them to you?”

It wasn’t that Marcus had forgotten about these boxes, he didn’t think he could ever forget that part of himself, but much like the way he had packed the boxes to the back of the wardrobe he had pushed those interests to the back of his mind.

“Marcus?”

“Sorry- that would be great, thanks Lucy.”

After deciding that Marcus would text his address and they would split the cost of shipping - neither letting the other pay in full after a bit of back and forth - the call ended and Marcus was left to think about something he had avoided for years. 

No matter how hard he tried, Marcus couldn't fight down the bubble of excitement that stayed in the pit of his stomach for the two weeks before the boxes arrived. When they were finally delivered, left in the lobby of his building to carry up the stairs - which took a good twenty minutes after he had to stop every other step until he finally managed to kick them over the doorway - Marcus collapsed in a tired heap by the door and managed to rip the boxes open in the hallway.

There was every last book on the famous knights of history his Mom and Dad had bought him along with the Lord of the Rings books that were looking good for being more than twenty years old, there was even smaller fantasy series that he had bought with his own money when he worked his first job in the local cafe. He spent hours just looking through what was there, his back soon aching but going unnoticed when the giddy feeling was filling his chest as he read the back of each book. He placed the boxes in his hallway cupboard, leaving the three Lord of the Rings books out to start his first re-read in more than a decade.

Dating had been non-existent for Marcus in the past year of living in DC. Well, maybe not non-existent but he had never gone past a third date in that time. Somewhere between his fourth and sixth failed date he decided that maybe he wasn’t made to be in a relationship. He had tried it as himself - as the Marcus who loved all things historical and fantastical - and as a more edited version of himself - who avoided these topics of conversation - but neither worked. That was when Marcus decided he was going to live unapologetically as himself and what happened, happened. He built shelves to display his books and kept the three most important ones on his bedside table; he often had movie marathons where he would smile at the behind the scenes facts he had learned after going to see each film in the cinema at least ten times; he even had a hand painted Gandlaf on his desk at work and a lockscreen of ‘the Shire’ so he could look at it every day and begin plans for a solo-trip to New Zealand.

It had been a month ago when he saw the poster for the Renaissance Faire at the park only twenty minutes from his apartment and he had immediately snapped a photo before heading home to work on a costume. He had heard of these Faires before but the idea had never crossed his mind to attend one let alone get dressed up for one.

It wasn’t much but it was his first time and so with a pair of dark trousers, a white billowy shirt that had ties at the chest and a brown belt to match his brown boots, Marcus had got in his car and headed for the Faire. His excitement had outweighed his nerves until now; it had been that kind of excitement he had felt when his Dad had brought him to a museum or his Mom had handed him the wrapped books or when he went to see The Two Towers for a second time - but it was only when he parked that this excitement turned to nerves. 

That embarrassment and shame - despite now being parked among hundreds of cars of like-minded people - was fighting its way up his stomach until it reached his chest and he reached for the keys for a final time, ready to turn them. He couldn’t do this.

“Hey there!”

Three taps against the driver's window made his hand halt and he turned to see who was there. It was a man, not too much younger than Marcus and dressed quite similar, waving at him to roll down the window. As soon as it cracked an inch the man began to talk again. 

“Hey, sorry, are you going in?”

“I’m-”

“Great!” The man stopped him before Marcus even had the chance to think of an excuse. “I need help carrying some things for my stall, my friend’s caught in traffic, could you help?”

“I- uh-” Marcus sighed, pulling his keys out and winding the window back up, “sure.”

“Thanks so much, man. I don't think my back could take this alone.”

Marcus smiled, no matter how strained, and followed the man over to his car. 

“It's just this table but it's a bit of a hassle going between all the cars as well.”

“It’s no problem,” Marcus said honestly.

Although slightly annoyed his great escape was thwarted - though he would never actually know if he turned the key or not - Marcus was never one to ignore someone asking for help. 

Between the pair of them it didn't take long to carry the table through the car park, finding the back entrance to one of the tents where it was to be set up.

“I’ve got it from here, thanks and,” the man cleared his throat, “Good 'morrow to you!”

Marcus couldn’t help the grin that took over his face at the stranger’s somewhat chaotic and shy personality being taken over by something else entirely as he took his place behind his stall. He nodded to the man, a grumble that could be taken as a returned greeting suiting the times before Marcus lifted the opening to the stall and stepped out into the Faire.

The large park was completely taken over by a sight that Marcus could not have even pictured in his wildest dreams. The Faire was bustling with life; there was music and plays; couples laughing together and children running about; stalls selling jewelry, food and everything in between.

What could a five minute look around hurt?

Five minutes soon turned to ten, turned to twenty, turned to two hours of Marcus walking around the faire with a smile never leaving his face. It was so much but not enough all at the same time and he strolled around each and every stall that was there.

He stopped to watch a play, a group of ameuter actors putting on a performance that had their audience cheering and clapping along as they threw their heart and soul into it. He bought a turkey leg, because how could he have ignored how good they smelled, and spent five minutes after it trying to scrub the sauce from the corner of his mouth. He even spent half an hour just people-watching, looking at their costumes and even offering a quiet “good ‘morrow” in return when they passed him by. 

He was finally starting to lose himself in the day, no longer checking the time, when a dancing figure caught his eye. There was music playing in the middle of the park now, a collection of violin-like instruments accompanying a young man’s songs of a knight and princess, and surrounding them was a group of people dancing, then right in the middle… there was you.

There was hundreds of people here and dressed for the occasion but there was something about you - about the way the sun seemed to light you or maybe the way your smile seemed to light up the whole faire as you laughed and swung in your friend’s arms - but whatever it was had Marcus pushing off from the edge of the stalls and walking towards you.

The green skirt you wore was swinging around your calves as you danced with bouncing steps, the white shirt slipping from your shoulder and revealing the soft skin of your chest and arms that were spilling slightly over the floral corset that was pulled tight.

Even over the music, over the chatter and cheers, Marcus could hear your laugh above all else. You threw your head back, the flower crown that was atop your head shifting slightly before you caught it with your hand and began to spin faster and faster.

He took one step and then another but as a couple passed by laughing in front of him he lost sight of you for a second and then you were… gone.

Marcus spun on his heels a few times, the bustle of the crowd almost making him dizzy as he used his height to scan over the crowd, but there was no sign of you. He sighed under his breath, his shoulders sagging as he rested back on his heels and began to head back to the stall he had been standing by when a loud horn cut through the crowd and everyone’s heads - Marcus’s included - turned around.

He could only just make out the words the man that was now standing on a box was yelling from the back of the crowd - the words duel and knights all he could make out - but then as the crowd began to walk towards an archway that lead to another part of the park, Marcus found himself following.

The whole crowd had soon filled the patches of grass that surrounded a square where the duel was planned to take place. Marcus, again, took a space near the back and beneath the shade of a tree but as he leaned against the trunk and crossed his arms in front of his chest he could feel the excitement for what was to come.

Right now, in the coming minutes, Marcus was about to witness something he had only dreamt of for years - a “real” duel. He smiled to himself and as the crowd cheered he felt himself doing the same, his feet tapping against the dry grass by the roots while he waited for the first knight to appear.

“First time?”

Marcus tore his eyes from the dueling ground long enough to look down over his folded arms, the smile still on his face when he noticed… you.

“H-hi, hello,” Marcus stumbled over his words, uncrossing his arms and turning to face you.

“Hi,” you giggled back, smiling up at him as he managed to catch himself from pushing off the tree too hard.

He laughed with you, shaking his head as you both leaned against the tree with your shoulders to face one another, and he couldn’t help but take a moment to look at just how beautiful you were.

Your smile was even brighter up close, your eyes sparkling along with it, and he couldn’t help but notice just how well your costume suited you. The skirt hung playfully off your hips where there was a floral cloth - one that matched your corset - tucket inside. Your shirt was tucked into the corset and he forced his eyes from your soft skin that was spilling from it, instead looking at the cloak that was now tied across your collarbone and hanging over your shoulders now you were out of the mid-day sun.

“So, was I right?” You asked and he furrowed his brows. “First time?”

“That obvious?” Marcus teased himself.

“No,” you waved him off, lifting your hand to cover your eyes from the sun that was peeking through the leaves and catching your gaze whenever you looked up at him, “well… maybe a little.”

You both laughed and when the first knight was announced Marcus shuffled slightly closer to you, blocking the sun from your eyes which you thanked with a small smile. The first knight took a lap of the dueling ground and you cheered loudly, looking up to Marcus and raising an eyebrow. He shook his head at you playfully, taking your lead and cheering on the knight. As you waited for the next knight to appear you turned back to him.

“Are you enjoying it?”

Marcus looked across the crowd for a moment, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth before he turned to face you once more.

“I… I am, I really am.”

“I remember my first fair,” you sighed, “it's like… freeing a part of yourself you'd never thought would be free.”

Marcus’s mouth fell open a little, amazed at the way you had put exactly what he was feeling into so few words. You had turned back to the front once more, clapping your hands as the next knight was being introduced. He let himself watch you for a moment before he would turn to cheer, seeing the way the sun sparkled through the trees and danced across your face. He watched as your face grew more excited as the knight galloped around the field, a cheer leaving your mouth as you clapped louder.

You had stayed by his side and cheered on the knights as the afternoon went on, using the break between duels to talk.

“So what's your thing then?” You asked after the first duel finished and when he tilted his head to question, you went on. “Like ‘the thing' that started everything and now you're here dressed up at a Ren Faire.”

“Oh, that thing,” he teased and you rolled your eyes. “Well… I work with a lot of art and my favorite, by a mile, is Renaissance art. I just loved looking at their clothes and the scenes, I just- I connected with it I guess.”

You never broke eye contact as he spoke, nodding and silently asking him to go on, and so finally he took a deep breath. 

“But I think, the thing that really started this all was… Lord of the Rings.”

He waited. He waited for the tight smile or glazed over eyes, the polite “my friend is calling” or “that’s… nice” but then you smiled and laughed. 

“Same!”

“Wait,” he shook his head, standing a little taller, “really?”

“Really! I can’t count how many times I’ve watched the movies or read the books but… it's just… perfect.”

And then Marcus smiled; he smiled so wide his cheeks hurt and before he knew it you were both talking loud and fast - finishing each other's sentences - as the duels went on. You spoke about your favorite characters - Sam and Aragorn, of course; your favorite films - yours the Two Towers and his Return of the King; your favorite book - now his the Two Towers and yours Return of the King…

“Okay, okay,” you said as the next duel ended, “if you had to get one quote tattooed on you, what would it be?”

“Book or movie?”

If it was possible your smile grew even wider, a shrug as you said either but your eyes burned bright and you leaned in even closer to him. 

He thought for a moment, leaning against the tree and thinking about the passages he went back to re-read or scenes he rewatched a million times, before he spoke. 

“Home is behind, the world ahead, and there are many paths to tread, through shadows to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight.” 

“No. Way.” You whispered slowly, reaching into the basket you had left by your feet and pulling out a tote bag. 

“I know it's not very period accurate but, a girl needs somewhere to keep her keys,” you explained, unfolding it to reveal the very words he had just said printed across the front. 

His hand reached out, fingers skimming along the words before he looked back up to you. 

“I made it,” you explained with a shrug, shying away a little as you folded it back up. 

“You made this?”

You nodded, kneeling down and putting it back in your basket before standing up and brushing your skirt, all the while avoiding his eyes when you began to speak again. 

“I have an etsy shop where I sell bags, jumpers, t-shirts like this,” you shrugged again and Marcus stood straighter, seeing a little of himself in how you shied away. 

“That's amazing.”

Your head shot up, a slight crease between your brows but a hopefulness in your eyes.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded, smiling as you dipped your head lower and bit back your own smile. “And, I don't think I’ve said it yet, but I really like your costume.”

“Oh, thank you,” you took your skirt into your fists and swung it slightly, “I really like yours too, amazing for a first time!”

“Thanks,” he blushed, “did you make yours?”

“No, my friend did! I tell her what I want, design it if you will, and she makes it all up. She's amazing, she usually sells her stuff at a stall but she had to work this weekend so couldn't.”

“Well, if I come again I’ll be sure to check it out.”

“You should,” you smiled back. 

You opened your mouth to talk again but another woman came up to your side, her hand on your wrist making your mouth shut and eyebrows crease as you turned to face her. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you for hours!”

“I don't think hours-”

“Well I started looking when the duels started and now they're finished so- oh, hello.”

The woman turned to Marcus and he smiled before looking back to you, only to find you had already been looking up at him. Had it really been hours? It felt like you had only been talking for ten minutes with how easy the conversation had flowed. He smiled at you but before he could talk you spoke. 

“I better go,” you apologized, “but I hope to see you again at one of these?”

“Y-yeah, that would be nice,” Marcus nodded. 

You smiled once more, picking up your basket before waving over your shoulder as your friend dragged you off. He watched you disappear in the crowd, as you turned back while stumbling over your feet slightly and gave him one last wave, but then when you were gone he realized… he didn't even get your name. 

All in all it had been a good day. 

No, not good, amazing, but there was still that small hint of sadness that Marcus carried as he walked back to his car. He hadn't spoken that enthusiastically about… well, anything really, since he was a child and you had made him feel so safe with it. He sighed when his car came back into sight, looking at the leaflet in his hand for the upcoming dates of the next Faires and the names of some clubs, but then as he unlocked his car he heard someone call from behind him. 

“Hello, uhm, Mi’lord,” they laughed and he knew it was you before he even turned around, the full-of-light laugh reaching his ears as he turned to face you. 

“Sorry, I didn't get your name,” you giggled, skipping to a stop in front of him. 

“I was just thinking the same,” he replied, smiling down at you. 

“Really?” You asked and he nodded. 

You held your hand out, the basket of treats you bought today balancing at your elbow and Marcus shook it as you said your name. 

“I’m Marcus,” he replied. 

“Well, it was really nice to meet you today Marcus.”

A beat passed where no one spoke and just when you looked like you were about to turn on your heels he spoke again. 

“Wait! Wait, sorry, I, uh-” he rubbed the back of his neck with his hands and you smiled back up at him, eyes wide waiting for him to go on, “would you want to maybe go for a drink some time? Or a coffee or dinner or anything really-”

“Dinner sounds lovely.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, opening his car door and reaching in for his phone. 

He held your basket as you typed your number in, biting back a smile at how you began to over-explain everything that was crammed into it from your circle around the stalls that morning, before you handed his phone back. 

“So, call me?” You laughed and he nodded. 

“I’ll call you.”

“Oh, here,” you pulled a mug from the basket - one made to look like an old beer jug - and there in the middle were four words printed on it. 

My First Ren Faire. 

“What-”

“You need something to remember your first Faire with so,” you waved at the mug, “I saw it and thought of you.”

“That's,” Marcus cleared his throat, “that is very kind, thank you for this and for today.”

“There's no need for thanks, really. I had- I had a really good time today talking to you.”

He could see in your eyes that you truly meant it. That you hadn’t just listened to him for hours, as it happened to be, because there was nowhere else to go or you felt sorry for him - you had listened because you had enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed yours.

“Same,” he sighed. “I can't remember the last time I’ve enjoyed a conversation that much.”

You both smiled at each other for a moment before a few sharp beeps from a car made you laugh as you waved back at your friend. 

“I better go now, but I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too,” Marcus smiled, for the first time completely confident in his skin as you took a few steps back. 

“Mi’lord,” you curtseyed and he laughed. 

“Mi’lady,” he bowed his head. 

You walked backwards a few steps, your basket swinging as you bit down on your bottom lip, and then you finally turned to walk away. 

For the first time in twenty-five years Marcus wasn't embarrassed, or shy or ashamed, at who he was and he felt for the first time that he wasn't too much - he was perfectly enough.

//

tags

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