#and I know that getting married that early in your life is usually advised against and frowned upon etc etc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eddiesghxst · 10 months

Text

cigarettes, coffee, and club-hopping

alrighty, she's here and i hope she lives up to the expectations! this is part one of...idk how many yet, but enjoy!

based on this idea I had 80 years ago

————

part one | part two | part three | part four

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: ex-bf!rockstar!eddie x lawyer!reader

summary: you're a divorce attorney in Los Angeles and your newest client is filing against famous rockstar, Eddie Munson, who is also your ex-boyfriend

contains: exes to lovers trope, mention of a past relationship, slutty banter, smoking, mentions of alcohol, a hint of mean!eddie, public sex (restroom), a sprinkle of degradation, eddie likes to kiss your neck, fingering, eddie licking your c*m off his fingers (bye), and eddie being hot <3

word count: 5.8k

-masterlist-

Eddie hates waking up early.

He’s never been a morning person— in all his twenty-eight years of living, Eddie has never seen the letters ‘AM’ and smiled. This is partially why Eddie failed his first-period class in high school for two — almost three — consecutive years in a row. This is also partly why Eddie was fired from nearly every job he landed after graduating. You would imagine that Eddie has learned his lesson after all this time. Not quite.

Eddie is nearly an hour late to his first divorce settlement conference. One would think that Eddie would, for once in his life, wake up at a reasonable time to take a shower, grab his usual morning energy drink, beat LA traffic, and get to his appointment on time— as a mature grown man would do. Still, Eddie failed even to set an alarm to wake him up.

“You’re forty minutes late already— traffic is gonna make it even worse, and you don’t have another day to reschedule this for the next two months, so I suggest you get up, Munson!”

Eddie watches through sleep-fogged eyes as Kelly, his assistant, throws his window curtains aside to let the morning sun seep into his room. There’s a pounding kick drum beating behind Eddie’s eyes, a result of Eddie falling into Jeff’s sinister persuasion to go out. He should stop listening to that asshole— he’s part of why Eddie married his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Eddie’s bones click and crack as he stretches, sits up, and lazily swings his legs over the side of his bed with a sleepy groan. He can hear the rustling sound of Kelly picking up laundry from his floor— something he’s told her multiple times not to do, but she does it anyway, so he’s given up on fighting her. He runs a hand over his face, a yawn wracking through his entire body before reaching over to his nightstand, feeling around for the box of cigarettes he knows he left the night before.

“I tossed them out,” Eddie glances up at Kelly, who is now grabbing the last of his laundry on the floor and leaving his room. “Go freshen up and get dressed; we need to leave now.”

Eddie’s doctor advised him to start weaning himself off the cancer sticks; something about it fucking with his gums, and that’s on top of the risks he’s running with the vocal strain it’s put on his voice. Eddie knows he should take it seriously, but he needs a lick of nic before spending the next three to four hours bickering with his wife about what’s his and hers.

Eddie drags himself out of bed, shuffling across the cool tile of his bedroom floor. He sleepily rubs his bare stomach, flipping the light switch and groaning, annoyed at the sudden brightness. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face before walking into his closet and sifting through the random pants and jackets strewn across the floor. There’s gotta be some smokes in here somewhere.

He finds a nearly empty pack of Marlboro reds and wastes no time sticking it between his lips, lighting it up with the lighter on his nightstand before getting dressed.

By the time Eddie steps into the law firm, his headache has intensified by about 80 beats per second, and he’s gone through the old pack of smokes. It feels as if the back of Eddie’s eyes have a heartbeat of their own, throbbing with every direction they turn. Eddie can hear his attorney giving him pointers for the conference, but if Eddie’s honest, he doesn’t plan on talking much, so he doesn’t pay close attention to what the man is saying.

When they enter the conference room, Eddie is seated across the table from his wife and offered a cup of coffee, to which Eddie gladly accepts to nurse his hangover. “You could at least take the glasses off.” A sweet voice that’s grown to grate every one of Eddie’s nerves whenever he hears it. He glares at his wife from across the table, and though nobody could see his eyes behind his glasses, everyone could sense the distaste behind his words, “Fuck off, Nezza.”

A strong hand is placed on Eddie’s shoulder, his attorney’s, stiffly squeezing the thick leather jacket. “How about we get started then? Before things get… rowdy.”

“Great idea.”

Now that voice—- that voice, Eddie could hear at any second of the day, any time of the year, and know exactly who was conducting that sweet song.

Eddie likes to believe that the universe works in mysterious ways and that things really do happen for a reason, but sometimes he swears whatever god is up there behind the clouds just likes to fuck with him for fun. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared Eddie for the sight he sees when he flits his gaze from Nezza to the woman sitting next to her.

For a moment, Eddie is taken back to a time he remembers in golden dream-like clouds of smoke—- the spring of ‘83 when he fell headfirst in love with the woman sitting next to his wife. And for that moment—- for that split fraction of a second, Eddie is happy to see you.

It’s surprising; after all this time he spent resenting you and spitting out the sour taste you'd left in his mouth, Eddie imagined he would never be able even to see a picture of you and not want to slam his head against the nearest surface he could get his hands on.

However, that feeling only lasts about .012 milliseconds before Eddie’s entire being is filled with every emotion he’d suppressed towards you over the last nine years. Eddie looks at you and sees the girl he loved and the girl that broke his heart. His last memory of you is so vivid that it almost outshines all the good from your past relationship. Almost. Like a python wrapped around his neck, Eddie chokes on adoration and hatred all in one breath.

If Eddie said it didn’t piss him off to an ungodly level that he has a sliver of excitement to see you, he would be lying. You had always known the best ways to wriggle under his skin.

This one takes the cake for the cruelest way so far.

————

Eddie looks the same.

Not much has changed on him throughout the years apart from expensive clothing, healthier-looking hair, and a little more muscle on his arms to fill out the black leather jacket clinging to his frame. He still has a knack for jewelry, you note from the priceless rings hugging nearly every slender finger of his and the chain resting against his chest, hidden beneath his shirt. He carries himself the same way, confidently with a smear of carefree and chaos. You couldn’t get a read on him when settled down in his seat across from Nezza, and the black sunglasses shielding his eyes didn’t help you decipher him any further.

He smells like Marlboro reds and a sharp cologne; dark scented and intense, easy to tell he’s the one wearing the scent. It’s a different scent than you remember from him. He’s swapped the cheap four-cent bottle of Brut for a more decadent scent— a mix of tonka bean, musk, and patchouli with a dash of something feminine you can’t quite put your finger on. The scent matches him better than Brut could ever amount to, but you find yourself reminiscent of the past.

Eddie doesn’t look your way until you speak, and either Eddie has mastered his poker face over the years, or he doesn’t remember you.

Not even briefly does Eddie’s expression falter from the bored look plastered on his face. The sunglasses do no justice either, and you wish the universe would strike them off his face at this very moment. You had forgotten what his eyes looked like in real-time and desperately wanted to remember— take a mental picture and shove it in the corner of your brain filled with essential memories, all things that make you smile, cry, and scream.

There’s a moment where you feel pained by Eddie’s unwavering reaction to seeing you. That feeling is quickly replaced with relief, relief that Eddie has matured just as much as you’d hoped he had. When you found out your client would be filing against Eddie, your high school boyfriend, you had initially panicked and paced the living room floor of your tiny studio apartment, thinking of ways to back out of the case. However, after a hefty glass of wine, you managed to persuade yourself that Eddie most likely isn’t still hung up on something as silly as a high school relationship. It happened nearly a decade ago; surely, you’ve both moved on, right?

With this indication, you feel the tension in your shoulders ease a little, hopeful that this process will be seamless, seeing as both parties want nothing to do with each other and Eddie holds no hard feelings against you.

Once the conference begins, you don’t look away in time to avoid Eddie’s gaze as he removes the glasses, your eyes landing on those dark pools of brown that you used to dip into each night. Vibrant and so full of life, full of untold stories and sights you’d missed out on in the last decade, a story unfolds beneath the glimmer of his eyes under the lights. They feel like home at first, but as you continue holding his gaze, your home becomes clouded by lightning and wind, dark storm clouds with a promise of a downpour.

As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, you see nothing but the boy you left behind in the summer of ‘85.

————

Stomach growling and frustrated sighs indicate the need for a break at around 12:40 PM.

The conference had started on a good note, with seamless agreements between you, your client, and Eddie’s team. That was until your client decided to become rather difficult and demanding.

“We’ll pick up where we left off in ten minutes.”

The atmosphere in the room has become stuffy and tight over the hours, so you get up to stretch your legs on a short walk to the coffee cart in the hallway.

Your mind feels muddled, pushed to exhaustion from hours of reading documents and going back and forth with Eddie’s attorney. Nezza wants more than Eddie is willing to give, money-wise, property-wise, and everything else under the sun. You’re determined to get your client as much as possible, but it’s proving to be more of a struggle than expected; Eddie’s team is headstrong and unwilling to bend to your substantial advances. Oh, and Eddie’s been practically throwing daggers at you from across the table with each chance he can get.

As you stir in a sugar packet, you watch the dark brown liquid swirl in the foam cup. You fall into a short trance as you watch the tiny bubbles dance within your drink, but the sound of a throat clearing shatters the spell. You glance to your side where the person is standing and are surprised to be met with a leather-covered shoulder and dark brown curly hair.

“Are you done with the sugar?” Eddie points towards your hand, and you blink, stuck as you stare at him for a moment. You know you should be professional, you’re an established attorney, and you’re in the middle of doing your job, but you’re also 100% fucking human, so— “I don’t know, are you done sending me death glares from across the table or do you wanna keep being an asshole?”

Eddie grabs the jar of sugar packets from your hand, “You wouldn’t have to put up with it if you just… quit the case.” Eddie shrugs as if his advice is a task as easy as folding towels. You take offense to his response, eyebrows pinching together as you watch him rip open a packet and sprinkle sugar into his cup, “I can’t just drop a case, Eddie.”

Eddie mockingly laughs, “Really? That’s weird; I mean, considering how you kind of just dropped everything and fled the fucking state, I’m sure you can drop a case just as easily, sweetheart.”

His words hurt. As much as you wish he didn’t have that effect on you, it’s evident that he still does, considering how your neck heats up in anger. You don’t miss the pet name he slipped in; you hate that it makes your neck even warmer. ��I didn’t flee the state; I went to fucking college— and how is that even my fault? I gave you the number to my dorm, and you never called.”

And Eddie remembers that letter you left him. He remembers it like the back of his hand. He memorized every sentence, including that stupid number you left for him. “Yes, I did. I called you after every show for months, and you never picked up!”

You spent eight years in New York, and out of those eight years, you spent four of them staring at an ugly green phone on the wall of your dorm hallway, waiting for it to ring so you could pick it up and hear his voice again. You asked your roommate to listen for a call if she was up studying late or if you went out and she stayed in. Now, you wonder if she failed you on her part because you would’ve never, in a hundred years, missed Eddie’s call. Never.

Before you can respond to the information, you are being called back into the room to resume the conference— you’d almost forgotten that’s what you were here for.

You and Eddie let the man know you’ll be right there and watch as he walks back into the room. When you turn to Eddie, his gaze is no longer on you as he tosses the small wooden stirring stick in the trash.

Eddie is silent for a moment before he looks at you and gives a forced, close-lipped smile, “It’s nice to know you’re still full of shit.”

And then he’s gone. Eddie leaves you there, stunned and offended by his words. Eddie Munson thinks you’re full of shit— as if you were the only one to blame for your falling out. You feel stupid for believing in a better-evolved version of the Eddie you’d known. You wish his words didn’t affect you, but the conversation has left a bitter taste on your tongue. You glance down at the cup of coffee in your hands, and your stomach churns. You no longer have an appetite for the drink.

————

Late-night club hopping has never been your preferred way of spending a Saturday night. There’s a different type of energy in LA’s club scene than there is in New York. It was easy to have a good time in New York; the clubs are all close to one another and stay open nearly all night. In Los Angeles, it’s been a slow rise to liking the nightlife— clubs are more scattered, and on top of that, you learned the hard way that it’s difficult to even get into clubs when you’re not Madonna-level status. That last problem isn’t so much an issue now that you’ve settled in and made a few connections around the city.

Tonight you’re celebrating a friend from work's birthday. Penny was the first person you talked to at the law firm; she instantly made you feel at home and offered to buy you lunch at a cafe next door. The two of you have been joined at the hip ever since.

You’re happy to celebrate Penny’s birthday and glad to be tagging along with her in this new chapter of her life, but what you’re bothered about is the fact that you chose to wear the most uncomfortable shoes in your closet. You were under the impression that you would be eating dinner with Penny and a few of her friends, but somehow, dinner turned into a night-long clubbing adventure.

Logically, you have no one to blame but yourself for wearing Steve Madden pumps, but if Penny had told you the night would be long, you definitely wouldn’t have worn these god-awful shoes.

You’re sitting on a bar stool waiting for your drink and thinking about what excuse you’ll give Penny to go home when suddenly, you feel someone walk up beside you, waving over the bartender. You glance at the person and immediately look away, preparing to run for it before they notice.

Sadly, you’re not fast enough to escape his line of sight, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me.”

You turn to the man and take in the sight of him as you tilt your head. “Wouldn’t it be the other way around since I was… you know, minding my business until you came here.” You motion to where Eddie is standing, and he smirks, silently taking his drink when the bartender passes it to him.

“How’d you get in here anyways?” He asks. It’s not a bad question; sure, you’re a damn good attorney, but you’re of no celebrity status, and this club is one of the more difficult joints to get into. However, you still take offense to Eddie’s question.

Your eyes narrow slightly, debating whether you should continue entertaining Eddie or leave and find your friends. “If you’re going to continue to be an asshole, then I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me; I want nothing to do with you.” Eddie scoffs into the rim of his drink before taking a short sip. You roll your eyes, feeling like kids in elementary getting into petty fights. “What makes you think I want something to do with you?”

Eddie snickers over the rim of his glass, “The fact that you’re still sitting here says enough.”

You scoff, looking away from him as you shift in your seat, attempting to make it seem like you want to get away from him, but it only scoots you closer to him, your arm brushing his elbow. You panic at the touch but act as if it was nothing. “If my feet didn’t feel like they were about to fall off, I would be miles away from you by now.” You grumble as you distract yourself by tugging down the hem of your dress.

“I don't believe that.”

You let out an exasperated breath, looking over at Eddie with an annoyed expression as you speak, “Not everyone is head over heels dying to be around you.”

It might be the alcohol or Eddie’s sinister pheromones you’re breathing in paired with the sound of his ridiculously annoying laugh—- you’re not sure which it is, but you find yourself enjoying this back-and-forth banter. A big part of you is frustrated by Eddie’s insistent prodding at your nerves, but your other part is intrigued. Too stuck to grab your things, bid him goodnight, and leave.

You almost think you heard him wrong when he responds, “We’ll see if you’re saying the same thing once I get you in the back.”

You blink, momentarily silent, as you glance at him to watch him calmly sip his drink. Not a single hint of regret or shock flashes across his face, and you almost think you imagined it until you see a ghost of a smirk brush the corner of his lips. “Excuse me?” And like a child, Eddie’s response is quick and irritating, “You’re excused.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m willingly going anywhere with you that’s not a fucking law firm or courtroom.”

Eddie laughs, glancing at you and nodding once, “Sure.” You hate how smug he is, and you hate that he’s so fucking right, but you swear you won’t fold for whatever stupid game he’s playing. “Sure?”

You watch Eddie tip back his drink and finish what’s left, placing the empty glass on the bar countertop before lazily nudging it forward. You shift back with an annoyed grimace when he turns to you and leans an elbow against the bar. He points over your shoulder, and you catch yourself before you follow his lead, gaze stuck on his face as you prepare for whatever bullshit is about to leave his mouth.

“I’m gonna head to the restroom to take a piss. You can sit here and bitch about everything under the sun, or you can quit being a pussy and meet me there.”

And without further explanation or interaction, Eddie gets up and leaves. You turn and watch in shock as he walks off, watching his back until it’s washed away by the sea of people on the dance floor. You turn back to the bar and gaze at your drink. For a moment, you think this might be some elaborate scheme Eddie has to fuck you over. Complying with this proposition, Eddie has now opened, could very well lead to you losing your job, something you’re not very keen on doing.

You glance towards the direction Eddie had walked off in and groan, briefly shutting your eyes as temptation washes over you. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way you’re actually thinking about going into that restroom with Eddie.

You take a deep breath, clenching your teeth in thought before muttering a curse. You’re fucking yourself over with this one, but you do it anyways. You toss back the rest of your drink, wincing at the bitterness, before hopping off the barstool.

Your adrenaline is so high that you don’t even feel the ache in your feet as you cross the dance floor, maneuvering through sweaty bodies and spilled drinks toward the bright neon RESTROOMS sign.

From the corner of your eye, you see Penny standing at her rented-out section as she tosses back a shot with the girls you’d arrived with. You should turn around and join them, return to celebrating Penny’s birthday, and forget all about your interaction with Eddie. That’s what you should do, but you don’t. You continue walking towards the restrooms, mentally going back and forth with yourself until you reach the door and wrap your hand around the handle.

However, the door opens before you can fully prepare to open it, and the scent of hand soap and Eddie hits you in the face. Your wide eyes meet Eddie’s glinting gaze. A smirk spreads across his lips, and he snickers, “I’d say I’m surprised, but that’d be a lie.”

Your gaze is hot and heavy as you stare up at him. The sounds of the club you're in seem muffled as you spend your last seconds considering what you’re about to do. You should really turn around.

You tilt your head up, silently sizing Eddie and daring him, a tipping point where you both know there’s no going back now—- especially not when you mesh your lips against his and stumble into the restroom. You plan to blame this on the alcohol.

Eddie makes quick work of turning to press your back against the door, fumbling to lock the door as you grumble a breathless ‘Fuck you’ against his lips.

“I intend to, sweetheart.”

You hate how stupid and witty the response is, but it makes your stomach twist in need, nonetheless. Eddie’s hands are roaming and squeezing you wherever he can reach, hiking up your dress enough to slink a few digits into the hand of your skimpy panties, snapping them against your waist and smirking when you push up against him. Eddie manages to speak in between haste kisses, “I’m gonna be honest; I didn’t think you’d give in this easily.”

Eddie is now ushering you towards the sink, softly snickering at the gasp that escapes you when the cold marble digs into your lower back. “Are you trying to say I’m easy?”

You can’t hold back the moan that slips from you when Eddie’s hand slithers between your thighs to press a thumb against your clit. “Maybe… also just pointing out that you clearly missed me.”

You don’t answer him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss as your hips rock back and forth against his touch. You smooth your hand down his chest and over his belt to grasp the heavy bulge between his thighs, humming when he moans, “Looks like you missed me more, Munson.”

You giggle when he grunts in annoyance, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties before shucking them down your legs and lifting the flimsy garment for you to see with a smirk, “Won’t be needing these anymore, will you?”

You grimace in faux disgust as you watch him stuff the soaked material in his back pocket. “Gross,” you comment, although Eddie doesn’t answer, busying himself with pulling you off the counter, flipping you around to face the sink, and eyeing you through the neon-lighted mirror. “You’re a perv; you know that?” You add as Eddie wraps an arm around your front and hikes your dress to sink his hand between your thighs.

Your shaky fingers grasp Eddie’s wrist, hips squirming as he begins to rub your clit, dipping a finger lower to spread your sticky arousal. “If I were you, I would start being very nice to me.” His voice is low and gravely against your ear as you smile, gazing back into his darkened gaze through the glass reflection. You push back against him, and you both sigh in pleasure. “Just fuck me, Eddie.”

You gasp when he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt, slowly pushing it in and out of you to create a sinful twist in your tummy. You shake your head in protest, although your hips rock against his thrusts. “No, no, I don’t need it. I don’t need that. Just fuck me, please?” You repeat, voice teetering on the edge of a whine.

“God, you’re still a fucking brat. So used to getting what you want, hm?” Despite his comment, he doesn’t give you what you’d asked for. Instead, he slips in another finger, greedily squeezing at your chest with his other hand. Your thighs tremble as his fingertips delicately massage that sweet spot hidden between your wet walls, a shaky hand reaching up to grasp his hand as he fondles your breasts over your dress. “Not anymore, princess,” His voice is low and foggy with sex, purring against your ear with ease as he plays with you. “This time, you’ll earn it like a good slut. You’re going to have to ask me very nicely if you want it that bad.” “A-ah…Fuck you.”

Eddie laughs at your response, digging his face into your neck when you throw your head back, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume. He presses a kiss to the base of your neck, and you hate how it makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching around his hand, causing him to pause. “Keep them open.” He warns, ignoring your pathetic attempts at rutting against his hand.

When you don’t obey his instruction, Eddie brings his foot in between your pump-clad feet, knocking the toe of his shoe against both heels, causing your legs to part, shaky limbs failing you as you stumble in his hold. Eddie chuckles, nipping your jaw as he sinks another finger into your soaking heat. Your moan is loud and pitiful as you reach forward to grasp the sink counter for stability. “Oh my god—” “Jesus, you’re fucking tight. Barely taking three fingers.” Your moans are high-pitched as you rock your hips against Eddie, nails digging into the skin of his flexing wrist as he fucks you with his fingers.

The sloshing sounds from between your legs are just loud enough to hear over the booming music of the club barely, and if Eddie’s fingers weren’t fucking you so well, you would’ve felt ashamed. You hardly notice Eddie’s free hand traveling to the low neck of your dress, tugging the material down to expose your chest. He groans at the sight, palming one of your tits as his mouth latches to the side of your neck. His fingers pinch and roll your nipples, his tongue warm and wet as he licks up your neck, humming at the taste of you and smiling when he feels you tremble against his body. “I can feel you squeezing me, princess; you gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your ear, humming when you hastily nod. “I don’t think so.”

He slows the draw of his fingers, softly petting at your walls to give enough sensation to have your eyes rolling but not enough to tip over the edge. You frustratedly huff, “Eddie—” “Good sluts ask to come, you know that.”

Your stomach twists at his words, hips squirming in search of more, more, more. You have a lot of pride; you’ve been told it’s your strongest and worst quality before— but here in this dingy club restroom, with Eddie’s overwhelming presence surrounding you and the incessant need to cum gnawing at every cell in your body, you find your pride quickly dwindling like a flame under water. The time when you need your pride the most, it’s nowhere to be found.

“Please, Eddie.” You whisper so quietly Eddie almost misses it. He smiles, “Since I know how hard that was for you, I’ll take it— but I won't be so kind next time, princess.” He pulls his fingers out of you and urges you to turn around and face him.

He nudges you back to sit on the edge of the sink, stepping between your thighs and opening them wide enough to see your glistening cunt, sticky arousal winking up at him beneath the dim neon lighting. “N-next time?” You take in a sharp breath as he hitches your leg around his waist

He chuckles, glancing at your swollen lips as you gaze up at him trying to fight through the hazy fog of arousal. Eddie runs three fingers over your clit before sinking back into you, a low hum rattling from his chest when your shaky hands grasp his shirt, fingers curling and wrinkling the material, “Next time.”

Your words get lost on you when he begins fucking you again, eyes fluttering shut as your legs subconsciously tighten around his waist. You can feel his breath against your top lip, and you fight the urge to seek out his lips with yours. You push up into him, mumbling incoherent pleas into the air. You lick your lips, pussy clenching when the tip of your tongue catches Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie doesn’t wait for you to make a move this time, his free hand reaching up to grip your jaw, fingertips digging into your cheek as he pushes his lips against yours. You both moan into the kiss, your hips grinding into the thrusts of his fingers.

You keep kissing Eddie until you can’t, too overwhelmed by the pending promise of an orgasm. You slide away from Eddie’s lips and nuzzle into his neck, finding solace in the soft brush of his hair against your face, the distant but familiar scent of his shampoo invading your senses. “I’m gonna come.” You whisper, nails digging into his biceps as your thighs quiver.

Eddie keeps his hand working between your thighs, thanking the many hours he’s spent playing guitar for training his wrist to maintain endurance. His other hand dances up your heaving back, dipping beneath the curtain of your hair to grip the back of your neck, softly squeezing in encouragement. “Let go, baby. Let me feel it.”

You nearly sob when you finally tip over, body tensing before melting against Eddie’s body in shambles of incoherent words and shaking limbs. You can hear the sticky wet substance of your release squelching around his fingers; you can feel it smearing against your thighs and dripping onto the cool tiles of the floor, and you almost feel ashamed when Eddie points it out, “Fuckkk, you’ve been saving this for me, haven’t you?” You hardly register his words, but you nod, mewling as you nuzzle deeper against him, thighs twitching when you teeter on the edge of sensitivity.

“I… Enough, Eddie, please fuck me.” You’re practically begging, pulling away from his neck to blink up at him blearily, sex-drunk hands fumbling to reach out for him. Eddie kisses you and chuckles against your lips, fingers finally slowing down. He pulls away with a lewd hum, leaning back to watch as he removes his fingers from your cunt, dragging the drenched digits up to smear your arousal around your clit, grinning when your thighs twitch.

You try to catch your breath as you silently watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, sinking them into his mouth to sinfully lick your cum from his fingers. He glances at you with a smirk around his fingers, and you squirm in your spot. “You’re being a tease.”

He releases his fingers with a pop before stepping away, “Sorry to cut this short, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta run, and I’m sure your friends are worried about where you went.” You watch in disbelief as he glances in the mirror and fixes a few unruly hair pieces. He looks your way and drops his eye in a wink, “I’ll see you later, princess.”

You silently gape in shock, watching him turn around and stride toward the door. Eddie can feel your eyes throwing darts at him, and he doesn’t bother hiding his smile as he opens the door and steps out.

You have to take a moment to wrap your head around it, but once you do, you wind up more annoyed with yourself for falling so quickly into Eddie’s trap. You clean yourself up and make yourself look presentable again before leaving the restroom to find your friends.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Penny exclaims once she sees you. She gasps when you get closer, and she sees your neck, leaning in to get a better look, causing you to slap a hand over the sore spot. “Oh, my god. Who?” “What?” “You were definitely screwing someone in the back! Who?”

You wince at her volume, quickly shushing her, “Nobody, Penny, this is old.”

Penny rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but you quickly cut her off, “I have an early meeting tomorrow, Pen; I have to get going.” Penny frowns but understands either way, giving you a quick hug and bidding you goodbye for the night. You leave her with a final Happy Birthday and make your way out of the club, already yearning for the comfort of your bed.

Before getting a taxi, you find yourself walking into a nearby store and purchasing a CD of Corroded Coffin’s first album, letting the CD burn a hole through your hands on the ride home. When you get home, you fall asleep atop your sheets before you can listen to the record.

You spend the rest of your night dreaming of hazy summers in Hawkins with a young curly-headed boy you knew once upon a time.

————

a/n: aH, i hope this was good, next part will be a bit more angsty so this part was for the sluts <3

————

teeny taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @sidthedollface2, @peachysink, @hereforshmut, @duncanhillscoffeecups

930 notes · View notes

deathlessathanasia · 1 year

Text

“Marriage served two main functions in ancient Greece: the creation of family alliances and the production of legitimate children. Although romances from as early as the Hellenistic period do narrate tales of young lovers who overcome any number of obstacles to marry and be together, love was not the usual basis for marriage. To date, scholars have no information regarding marriage or weddings in Bronze Age Greece. Some have interpreted the festive flotilla fresco from Thera as a wedding procession, but there is no clear evidence for this. We know that women were the primary caregivers for children as mentioned in the Linear B texts, but these texts deal mainly with palatial affairs, not the daily lives of “housewives,” so we know little about the workings of Mycenaean marriages. We learn more about marriage during the Dark Age and Archaic Age through Homer and Hesiod. Much can be gleaned from a short passage in Book 9 of the Iliad. Agamemnon, attempting to assuage Achilles’s wrath, makes the following offer: There are three daughters of mine in the well-built hall, Khrysothemis and Laodikê and Iphianassa, Of them let him lead her whom he wishes without bride-price to the house of Peleus. And I will give as dowry many things, as many as never before anyone gave with his daughter. What is first evident is that the father has the right to marry off the daughter, without either her or her mother’s consent. As in later Greek history, marriage arrangements were conducted between either the groom or his family and the bride’s kyrios, or legal guardian. Usually this was her father, although in his absence it could be a brother, or even a son.

Two financial transactions were involved in marriages: the bride price and the dowry. In contrast to later understandings of these, both transactions ultimately benefited the wife. The bride price consisted of goods offered by the groom or his family to the bride and her family. Such a tradition recognized the value of daughters to their families, especially their economic contributions vis-à-vis textiles and labor; the groom’s family had to “buy” her from her parents. The bride price might also include presents to the intended bride herself, especially if she were in high demand. In Book 18, 291–300, of the Odyssey, Penelope, one of Greek tradition’s most sought-after wives, reminded her suitors of their obligations and got some lovely jewelry. Somewhat the opposite of the bride price, the dowry was property given by the bride’s family into the keeping of the groom. In reality, the dowry was the bride’s inheritance from her natal family, usually around one-half or one-third of each of her brothers’ portions, although she received it upon marriage rather than the death of her father. Laws varied throughout the poleis concerning what property could be included in a dowry. For example, land was acceptable in Sparta, but categorically not so in Athens. In the story quoted above, Agamemnon includes copious tracts of land as dowry for whatever daughter Achilles would choose to marry, indicating that land was transferable as dowry in Homer’s world. Although technically the husband had use of the dowry while married to his wife, the dowry actually belonged to her and her natal family. If the marriage were ended for any reason other than the wife’s infidelity (and sometimes not even then), her entire dowry had to be restored to her or her family. This helped to prevent “frivolous” divorces. Furthermore, the wife continued to have use of her dowry after the death of her husband, providing her with a type of life insurance. Upon her death, she left her dowry to her children. In this way, some inheritance went through the female line as well as the male’s. . . .

Hesiod, more “working-class” in his concerns than Homer, strongly advises the listener against getting a bad wife while offering advice on how to get a good one in his Works & Days (ll. 695–705): Lead a wife to your home when you are of age, neither much less than 30 years nor much more, this being the appropriate age to wed. And let the woman be four years from youth; marry her in the fifth. Marry a virgin, so you might teach her good ways. Best of all to marry someone who lives near you, having looked all about, so your marriage is not a joke to the neighbors. For a man acquires nothing better than a wife of the good sort, but nothing’s worse than the bad kind, a parasite! As discussed below, many Greeks took Hesiod’s advice. Greek men generally married at around age thirty, when their own fathers might be near death, thus releasing the family land for inheritance. Women—girls, really—married for the first time while in their teens. In Sparta, this was seldom younger than age eighteen, when women were considered to be better able to bear children. In Athens, the more common age was fifteen, although in the fourth century b.c.e., girls could be married as young as thirteen. Men generally preferred virgins as their first wives, so as to ensure the paternity of their children. However, both divorced and widowed women could and did remarry, so female virginity was hardly a prerequisite for marriage.”

- The Ancient Greeks: New Perspectives, by Stephanie Lynn Budin

#ancient greece #marriage #quotes #excerpts

3 notes · View notes

sunspray-peak · 10 months

Text

Ch. 37: Foxes Getting Married

THURSDAY - FALL 19

Stardew Valley was in for an Indian summer, according to Achilles’ favorite Zuzu4 meteorologist, Amelia McCarten.

In response to this sudden skyrocket in temperatures, Shane had advised they kick off the canning process a week early before any of their cranberries could spoil prematurely in the baking sun. Thank goodness Achilles had placed the order for jars last week!

Unfortunately, Shane had had to head to his now twice-a-week Joja shift after lunch, leaving a mildly irked Achilles alone in his kitchen standing over a boiling stove where a giant pot of sugar water simmered.

Bad day to wear glasses, he thought, folding the fogged lenses and setting them on the counter behind one of the three boxes of red berries he and Shane had picked earlier that morning. He had woken with a terrible headache and had been forced to ditch his usual contacts—must not have slept well… and all this suffocating steam wasn’t helping either…

Just five more hours to kill… Elliott had invited him to dinner again. Just had to keep busy until then…

A knock at the door.

Not Lewis not Lewis not Lewis…

Since the fair, Achilles had been avoiding the mayor, who had been incredibly insistent (and who had eventually devolved into making threats) he join him and Gus as an “honored guest and cherished representative of the community” for an upcoming gala in Zuzu City. No doubt the governor would be there. No doubt Achilles was to be used as ammo in Lewis’ forever quest for increased tax credits.

He attempted to sneak a surreptitious peak from the behind the window curtains, but the figure on his porch step must’ve anticipated this, and Achilles was met with a comical close-up of Alex staring with his face pressed against the glass.

“I just cleaned that,” Achilles said in greeting as he wrenched open the door. “Oh Yoba, that’s nice…” A cool breeze had quickly wafted through, swirling through the sauna that had been festering in his kitchen.

“Good morning to you, too. Or, I guess it’s afternoon now…” Alex gave him a little wave from the porch before sheepishly attempting to wipe the window with the sleeve of his letterman. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize, I was lying. I’ve never wiped a window in my life.”

Even so, Alex couldn’t help but finish wiping the mark away, peering through the glass at the scene in the kitchen. “What are you up to? Sorry, am I disturbing something? ”

“Hell no. What are you up to and can I join? I’ll take any excuse to quit canning.” Achilles pointed his thumb at the stacks of mason jars behind him and waved for Alex to step inside. Voltaire was keeping watch over the cranberries, having planted himself next to the filled jars. “Shane thought it’d be a good idea. And then Shane left.”

“Sounds about right… just thought since you finished that ‘stupid little draft of yours,’ you could use a break. Weather’s nice. Thought you might want to join me, I’m going for a swim.” Alex picked up a jar and gave it a sniff. “Hey, you can make sure I don’t drown—not that you’d be able to save me, but you could maybe throw the ring, assuming your aim is better than your backstroke—”

“Yeah, yeah. A bit cold though, isn’t it? I know it’s peculiarly warm these days, but still, compared to Summer?”

“Eh, I mean I don’t know, it’s not bad once you really get moving. No colder than a pool. But you don’t have to swim if you don’t want, I’ll mostly be, um, practicing, anyway. Training. Or we could stop by Willy’s, get you a wet suit so you don’t die of hypothermia.”

“Right… I think I’ll just stay in the boat. Maybe I’ll bring a book, how about that? Now just give a minute, will you, I have to finish this… syrup, or whatever the fuck it’s called…”

*****

To be honest, Achilles wanted nothing better than to soothe his headache with a mind numbing paperback (perhaps one of the ones Shane had gifted him last season), but it was his own book that he had chosen to bring onto the boat—or, at least, the outline he had been wrestling with and was continuing to wrestle with as he gazed out at the open sea.

Alex had made good on his threat from last season, and so it was Achilles who had been “bullied” (to use his word) into rowing them out into the Gem Sea, though Alex hadn’t directed him nearly as far out as they had gone last time. The tide wasn’t too high at this hour, and they could make out the half-submerged banks of some of the archipelago’s smaller islands not too far out in the distance.

Achilles wasn’t sure if staying visibly close to land had been a deliberate decision on Alex’s part, but though he was feeling significantly more comfortable in the boat than he had the last time they rowed out, he was nevertheless still grateful for the thoughtfulness, whether intentional or not.

Despite the sun, who was reigning solo in the clear blue skies above, it was much colder out on the water than Alex had suggested—though, if Alex had indeed been coming out here nearly every day since Fall started (as he had hinted during their row over), he likely had been dealing with even colder temperatures…

Achilles though, having grown up in Monstera’s subtropical climate, was currently huddled underneath Alex’s towel, right hand shivering the tiniest bit as it clutched an icy, stainless steel fountain pen.

Stupid stupid stupid. Stainless steel? Who are you trying to impress? Should’ve gone with plastic. Should’ve gone with fucking gloves. Should’ve brought a book. Should’ve stayed home.

Fueled partly by Elliott’s recent success and Alex’s words of encouragement, he had hoped the remote isolation of the Gem Sea would force him into overdue productivity. But for some reason or another, his brain had refused to focus on the project at hand. Instead he had found himself watching Alex, who had been slicing through the water at a startling speed—and so smooth! It was remarkable how little splashing one could make moving that fast.

For hours—hours!—Alex swam, only pausing and returning briefly to the boat to grab a drink of water. Stretch. Hover (too) closely over Achilles’ shoulder like a nettlesome gnat and ask about his (nonexistent) progress.

It was a little strange chatting, almost. With his brown hair flattened under a tight red and black swim cap and green eyes masked by polarized swim goggles, Alex’s most distinctive features (that is, his most distinctive features from the neck upwards, for Achilles refused to allow himself to look at anything below his shoulders) were hidden from sight.

But all the same, it was still so unmistakably Alex. The Dusty-like tilt of his head, the peek of tongue between his wide-toothed grin. Even the way he splayed his fingers to grip his water bottle. They’d known each other a little more than half a year, and yet it was all already so familiar to Achilles... for how long had he been cataloguing his habits?

Get back to work.

After roughly two hours of swimming, Alex climbed up the boat and took a seat.

“So,” he began, “I was wondering if I could get your advice.”

Achilles looked up from his (very blank) notebook. “Oh, I see. I suppose this is the real reason you brought me out here, then.”

“Give me that.” Alex wrenched the striped towel off from Achilles’ back and gave it a whip before draping it over his own shoulders, all while removing his swim cap and goggles in one fluid sweep of his arm. “I’m serious!”

“I didn’t say you weren’t!” Achilles set his notebook to the side and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Fine, sorry. What’s up?”

“Okay, so I’m, um… well. I’m thinking of applying for a promotion.”

“Oh! Good for you.”

“Yeah…” Alex ran his hand through his dry hair. “The manager of our branch finally put in his two weeks yesterday. Thought it might be… worth a shot. To, you know. Apply.”

“For sure! So you wouldn’t be teaching anymore?”

“No, no, I would, just not as much, yeah. And I think I’d get, like, more control over what classes. And it’d be better pay, of course. Better hours—I’d probably be able to ditch all my personal training clients, never been a huge fan of those… but basically I’d probably have more time. More energy. To, um, you know. Maybe focus a little bit more on training, if I decide to… take it more seriously…”

“You’re already taking it more seriously though, aren’t you? You’ve been coming out here more often.”

“Yeah… but there’s still a lot more I could do. Be more… precise about it all. Not precise, uh… what’s the word…”

“Purposeful?”

“Yeah! That. Purposeful.”

“For sure.”

“Anyway, I mean, I don’t know if I’ll actually go for it, or if I do, if I’ll get it—the role’s got a lot more reading to it and, well, you know… But I think I could still do it. I’ve been trying to practice more, recently. Been making a point to try to read a story from the Stardew Valley Tribune every day.”

“Good for you!” said Achilles for the second time. “I’m proud of you. Bet Lewis is proud, too, really boosting those circulation numbers…”

Alex flushed, quickly moving on.

“But I’ve never really had to have a resume or do an… interview before. Like a real job interview. And I figured I should look into that just in case, and I figured I’d ask you for advice because you…” Alex trailed off, his fingers looping themselves around the strap of his goggles as he bit his lip.

“Spent six years battling my way up the corporate ladder and am thus, in your eyes, an expert?”

“Huh.” Alex’s brows furrowed as he glanced to the side, out to the water. “I had actually been thinking of all the fancy press I assumed you used to do for your books, but I guess BRLO is actually probably a lot more relevant… listen, I’m stupid, remember—”

“—Alex—”

“—I mean, either way, one or the other, you’ve probably got more experience than anyone else in the Valley. So yeah. You were right. I confess. This was the real reason why I dragged you all the way out into the middle of the Gem Sea and had you watch me swim for two and a half hours.”

“Slow build. Cut to the chase next time. So you’re asking me for interview advice?”

“Mmhm.” Alex scooted forward on his seat, his knees now a mere centimeter away from Achilles’ in the tiny boat. “And resume stuff. But only if you have time.”

“I absolutely love that you still pretend I have a productive life, it truly warms my heart. Sure. Why don’t you drop off the job description later and anything you have prepared so far and we can go over it all together. How’s that sound?”

Alex jumped to his feet, sending the boat rocking wildly. Achilles’ fingers curled instinctively around his seat and he had to suppress a pitiful squeak as he bit too hard into the side of his cheek.

“Yeah. Yeah! That sounds great. Thanks, Ash.”

*****

If Achilles had secretly hoped that this entreaty for advice had marked the end of Alex’s training session (and in turn, the end of Achilles’ self-induced torture—Yoba, why didn’t he just bring a book…), he was sorely disappointed.

After resignedly showing Achilles where in the boat he could find a new dry towel for warmth, Alex gave him a little salute before climbing back down into the water and starting yet another sequence of drills.

All work and no play today, it seemed.

For one of them, at least. How the tables had turned, Achilles couldn’t help but ruefully think. His pen had inked nothing but haphazard swirls on the sides of his notes. Fuck, why is this so fucking hard you fuck?

And then… it started to rain.

Small drops. Their cold, violent hurtles towards the ground (or in this case, the sea) not unlike the piercing rain that had fallen Achilles’ first night in Stardew Valley, though significantly, and thankfully, lighter.

It took quite a few minutes before Alex, so focused on his strokes (or perhaps it was simply more difficult to feel half-submerged in the sea), noticed and paused to look up into the sky.

“You didn’t see this coming, weather boy?” he called, treading water from 30 feet or so away now.

“Blame Amelia McCarten,” Achilles called back, grateful for this welcome excuse to shove his pen and papers into the inside pocket of his windbreaker, though the act seared a small semblance of self-disgust across his heart. Useless. “I’m not a real meteorologist, cut me some slack.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right, I forgive you. But only because it’s still sunny. Weird.” Alex had raised his goggles and was peering up at the sky which was indeed, still strangely cloudless.

“The foxes must be getting married.”

“Huh?”

“I think I heard that somewhere once. Like folklore. They say if it rains but the sun’s still out, it means the foxes are celebrating a wedding.”

“Huh,” Alex repeated, now tilting his head ever so slightly to the right as he continued to search the golden skies. “I like that. That’s fun.”

He began to one-arm dog paddle back towards the boat, leaving the other arm to tap a finger against his temple in mock admiration. “So smart. Always learn something from you.”

Achilles chuckled and began to reach for the oars. “So I suppose we’re heading back then?” About time. Maybe he’d be more productive at home…

“Oooo…” Alex stopped in his strokes, just ten or so feet now from the boat. “Would you hate me if I said no?”

“It’s raining, Alex.”

“Yeah, but not hard. It’s barely a drizzle.”

Achilles bared his hand from where he had tucked it further up in the sleeve of his windbreaker and held it palm up to better feel the rain.

“Barely a drizzle my ass.” He watched as water dripped down the sides of his cupped hand before making a big show of wiping it against the towel which he was currently wearing like a headscarf.

“It’s just water. Come on, what’s the harm in getting wet?”

“Easy for you to say, you’re already wet.”

“You could be too if you just took that towel off your dang head, come on, please—”

“You know, I’ve half a mind to leave you out here. You can swim back to shore, just call it more training.”

“O ho, and if I drown? No boat. No radio. You’ll have to live with that on your conscience for the rest of your—”

Achilles tossed the towel to the side. The rain had begun to leak through the cotton, rendering it somewhat useless. “Last time I stayed out in the rain, I got pneumonia.”

At these words, Alex started, his eyes widening in remembrance (or perhaps guilt), despite his previous puppy-dog-eyed pleads. He quickly began to make his way towards the boat. “Oh. Heck. You’re right, I’m so sorry! Yes, of course, we should head back—”

For some (utterly outrageous) and (totally inexplicable) reason, witnessing Alex’s repentant shift in attitude did little to bring him comfort, instead injecting Achilles with his own little stab of guilt.

And, so, recognizing that his heart had been won over by Alex’s downcast disappointment, Achilles rolled his eyes in reluctant surrender. Though it was much cooler out here than it had been in the Valley, he supposed it was still nevertheless warmer than it had been that frigid, stormy Summer night of Shane’s reckoning when he had contracted pneumonia. At least today, the sun was still streaking across the sky.

“Ugh…” He tossed Alex yet another exaggerated eyeroll. “It’s fine. We can stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s ‘only drizzling…’ Why are you so insistent, anyway? Something special happen in the sea when it rains? More jellyfish? Mermaids?”

“Oh…” The boat tipped slightly as Alex raised himself port side, forearms resting against the wood after gently setting his swim cap, goggles, and Pear Pods on the floor. “No. No good reason, really… I just think it’s… kind of fun.”

“We’re staying out here because you think it’s… fun?”

Alex scrambled for the ladder. “Okay, okay, we’ll head back—”

But Achilles was faster today—he slid onto the topmost rung of the ladder and leaned far forward so that Alex couldn’t pass. “You stay in the water where you belong, you wretch.”

Alex laughed, hands brushing Achilles’ legs as he pretended to swipe them in retaliation.

And then suddenly, Alex’s hands were around his ankles.

There was a sharp yank.

And he was in the water.

It was cold—far colder than it had been the last time they had come out here together to swim. Above, he could see the rain, feel the droplets punching rhythmically through the seawater into his arms.

The shock of it all had paralyzed his body—paralyzed his mind, even, for submerged in the water now, everything felt like slow motion.

Did he want to scream? Surely he wanted to scream. Surely it was time for panic to take center stage. It was the sea, the cold sea. This was where his nightmares lived.

But no. He felt… nothing. Nothing but calm, as he allowed his body to settle within the water, arms aloft.

And then his head was breaking the surface. Time reverted to normal speed, and he took an instinctual gasp for air and opened his eyes.

He was sitting. Firm, on cold, hard steel. Alex must’ve lifted him onto one of the lower rungs of the ladder.

“Shit, shit, fuck—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—Ash, I’m sorry, I forgot, are you okay? I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, are you okay—”

“It’s fine.” Achilles gripped the handrail. His legs were still submerged, and they dangled freely from under him.

“—fucking idiot, I don’t know why I did that, it’s so dangerous—hell, just common sense that you don’t do that, and with you still learning, you could’ve hit your head, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine.”

“—let’s go back, I’m—”

“Alex.” Achilles raised his voice.

“—I’m never swimming again—“

“Al. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Achilles found himself giving the distressed man before him a (hopefully) reassuring smile, adding even a laugh as he wiped the water from his face. “Really.”

Alex’s brows were still as furrowed as could be—they were nearly touching, really, as he continued to study Achilles with a penetrating, dilated gaze so intense that he felt almost too seen.

“You looking at me like that is making me more uncomfortable than the water was.”

Alex quickly averted his eyes, looking instead at his hands which were continuing to tread water. “We can… head back.”

“No.” The word was a surprise even to Achilles. But the fall—or the yank, really—had snapped the tenseness that had been tautly criss-crossed inside him. Who the fuck cared about writing?

He unzipped his windbreaker—his outline was surely bleeding out in that inside pocket, the few doodled spirals shot point blank by the seawater—and tossed it into the corner of the boat.

“Let’s stay. I want to experience whatever… fun you were going on about.”

Alex didn’t look convinced. A tight, small frown. And was he… trembling? “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

To support his sincerity, Achilles took a deep breath and launched himself from the ladder.

Unfortunately, Alex hadn’t twisted totally out of the way in time, and so Achilles managed to slam into his shoulder.

“Fuck, my bad,” he said, before Alex could apologize yet again. He pinched his nose, which had borne the brunt of the impact. “Damn. Really ruined the dramatic entrance I was trying to make.”

That got Alex to laugh, though it was a rather short, mono-syllabic one as he continued to avoid Achilles’ gaze and watch the rain patter against the small waves.“So… you promise you’re okay?”

Achilles rolled his eyes again. Alex had seen one panic attack. Okay maybe two… possibly three that first day in the pool… really, it just depended on how you counted them… okay, maybe the concern was warranted…

Nevertheless, he turned to tightly grip both of Alex’s shoulders—Yoba, he was warm…—facing him head on. At his touch, the man seemed to flinch, but looked up to meet Achilles’ gaze.

“Alex, if you ask me again, I’m getting back in the boat and rowing home without you. I’ll leave you the ring so you don’t drown.” Achilles let go, and began to tread on his own to further prove his point. “Seriously. Look. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Alex bit his lip as his eyes, still more black than green at the moment, widened in alarm for just the merest fraction of a second before seeming to soften, a somewhat dazed, bemused expression replacing his previous concern.

The sun began to hit the horizon, raindrops sparkling glints of gold.

For a minute, the two simply bobbed and breathed. The green was slowly beginning to reclaim its territory in Alex’s eyes, and his lips were now slightly parted as he continued to regard Achilles in tranquil silence.

And though Achilles had long locked his feelings in a little box of inaction, there were still little moments that could catch him off guard…

“Alex? Everything okay? Al?”

“Hmm?” His trance broken, Alex gave a start and paddled two strokes backwards. “Yeah.” He gave his head a little shake and ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, yeah, I was just… scared.”

��Thought you killed me?”

“Mmm… maybe not killed… I just know you don’t like open water…”

“I can see what you mean about swimming in the rain. It’s nice. Strange, but nice.” That was a lie—what it actually was was a colder, more painful, and significantly more uncomfortable version of having the shower head on while you took a bath. But Alex still seemed rather flustered from his part in Achilles’ supposed near-murder, so Achilles figured a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

*****

“Looks like the clouds are finally rolling in,” Achilles said, nodding up at the skies that were indeed beginning to darken.

“Oh. About time… Thought maybe they just didn’t want to spoil the wedding…”

“What wedding? Was there a wedding I wasn’t invited to?”

“Yeah, the foxes. Remember?”

“Oh? Oh! Ha…”

They clambered into the boat just as a grey, stormy wind began to pick up, biting against their damp skin.

“Yoba, I’m really sorry, Ash, I really didn’t think that through…” Alex unzipped his duffle bag and tossed a pair of sweatpants to Achilles. “You take these. And I think I’ve got a third towel somewhere, too, those are probably all wet… shit, I really am an idiot aren’t I…” Muttering some more self-targeted curses under his breath, Alex began searching the little drawers scattered among the boat.

As eager as he was to get out of his waterlogged jeans, Achilles still felt awkward stripping completely. Oooh, but perhaps he was overthinking it. On second thought, he was definitely overthinking it. More than likely, Alex had seen it all in various locker rooms over the years. It didn’t mean a thing.

Even so, he changed at record breaking speed, despite the way the stiff, drenched denim clung relentlessly to his skin.

“Better?” A third towel found, Alex wobbled across the boat to drape it over Achilles’ bare shoulders. He gave his arms a brief squeeze through the cotton before quickly taking a step back and offering up a grey crewneck. “Achilles, I really am sor—”

“I can still throw you off the boat and row away without you.”

Alex, who, having given away his only change of clothes, was left to brave the wind unshielded, despite Achilles’ protests. He grabbed an oar.

“Let’s be real, Ash—at the rate you rowed us out here? Even swimming back, I’d reach Pelican Town before you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Achilles jabbed the other oar towards Alex, who dodged it with a chuckle. But it was good to see Alex making jokes, even if they were at Achilles’ athleticism’s undeserved expense…

*****

Despite Alex’s qualms with Achilles’ rowing capabilities, together they had managed to out-row the eye of the storm, bumping against Willy’s dock just as the first, soft drops of rain began to hit Stardew Valley.

“Going to be humid as hell tomorrow,” Achilles muttered darkly as Alex hopped deftly out and began to tie the rope to a thick wooden post.

Achilles followed, tottering unevenly across the boat, his still-sodden clothes bundled into a sad ball under his arm. The dock was slippery with the rain.

Alex offered his hand. Achilles had no reason not to take it.

He clambered out, barely registering the warmth of Alex’s callused palm until both his feet were planted securely on dry (or, dry as could be under present circumstances) land.

But as he made to let go, he found his hand still held tight in a grip that was lingering for just half a beat too long.

Achilles glanced half an inch upwards.

“Ah, sorry.” Alex jerked his hand back as if it had been burned and kneaded it against his chest.

They made their way wordlessly up the boardwalk and beach, where Achilles stopped. “Elliott wanted to host a little dinner tonight for us two—you know how he is, we’ll probably be ‘celebrating’ for another ten years… you… go on without me.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll… um. See you around then, Ash.” Alex was still nervously rubbing his bare chest with his hand. “Again, I’m… really sorry about everything…”

Achilles watched him stare at the rapidly dampening ground, and a sudden burst of emotion surged through Achilles' heart at the sight of Alex's head bowed in shame. He bit back the sarcastic retort that'd been hovering at his lips, instead softly exclaiming, “There's nothing to be sorry for, Al. No harm done. Now go on. Get out of here before the storm gets bad.”

#llnks #stardew valley fanfic #my fic #sdv fic #stardew fanfic #stardew alex #stardew valley alex #stardew valley oc #sdv oc #sdv farmer #alex stardew

1 note · View note

quirklessidiot · 3 years

Text

title : cigarettes and parfaits [3] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, slice of life, josei, angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) i keep forgeting to add that this isnt beta-rread..all of my stories arent so yeah shshs Notes: ah, i feel like this story will be lengthen more than 8-10 chapters shshshs i wanted to add a little spice anyways thanks for all the comments uwu ily all!

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every saturday!]

“Y/N-chan!!!”

You cringe in embarrassment as soon as you hear that awfully familiar and cheerful voice, you could barely remember this man and the events that transpired the night before but here he was, acting like your new best friend. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to go here but you needed clarity. Surely you didn’t just legally marry a man at an Izakaya out of all places last night?

“Oh, you actually did marry him.” Gojo Satoru proclaims as soon as you take a seat across him, he gestures around his face, “I could tell by your whole, ‘I hope this guy is messing with me’ face. You have it, signed and sealed. Even got the cute matchy rings that I had one of my assistants delivered.”

You pale at the thought of his assistant coming in with a silver ring. Wasn’t he sober? How could he not have stopped you two from doing something as reckless and stupid as this? Weren’t older men supposed to be more responsible than this?

“Why the hell didn’t you stop us?” You groaned, burying your face in your hands, embarrassment painted all over your features.

“I was just as drunk as you two.” He confessed, scratching his head, “probably even more drunk but anyways back to the topic in hand, I only remembered it when the same assistant came in and congratulated me about it. It’s good I had your number on my phone before you two bailed.”

“So you don’t really remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Gojo grinned, this guy was a maniac, how did the serious man you met just this morning have friends like this? You probably wouldn’t even last long, “I did call Nanami-”

He’s cut off by the rough sound of someone pulling a chair out, you immediately jump on your seat when you realize it’s Nanami Kento, the guy from this morning. The man you had recklessly married!

“This better be some prank you’re pulling, Satoru.” His voice was anything but kind that you almost wanted to hide behind Gojo’s back.

“Hey, hey.” Gojo raises his hands, “Don’t look at me. I didn’t force you into anything and stop scaring your poor little partner.”

Nanami snaps his gaze towards you and you notice how his eyes soften just a bit when he sees your red ears and your eyes looking away from him, “You better call Geto and fucking fix this, I refuse to bother this young-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, still shy and red, “It’s...fine...I just…Please don’t think I’m burdened by it. It was technically my fault for even agreeing immediately.”

Nanami clenches his jaw and turns away, “Nevertheless. L/N-san’s young. I hope to not be such an uncouth man like you.” he retorts, voice sharp as he eyes the white-haired businessman up and down. Gojo, seemingly used to it, rolls his eyes behind his dark shades.

“Maybe you guys should try it out.”

The blonde man looks like he’s about to smite the white-haired man out of existence yet Satoru remains oblivious to his friend’s gaze, “Don’t ya think so? It will take a while for those divorce papers to settle in so why don’t you two go out and get to know each other? Who knows…” he sing-songs the last part and Nanami is so close to chunking his briefcase towards the tall businessman, not even caring

“Ah, he’s not exactly wrong, Nanami-san.” you try to calm him down, placing a small hand on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually listening to this idiot’s idea.” Nanami replied, gaze narrowing.

“Not really but you have some problems I can help you out on and I have problems that you can help me out on...Of course, the last say is on you...”

“Told you I actually had a brain.” Satoru piped in.

“Shut up, Satoru.” he quips, then turns to you, “I’m thirteen years older than you, L/N-san. I have two high school kids that could pass off as your siblings, and-”

“Well, I technically did marry you.”

“You were drunk.”

“Doesn’t exactly really excuse it.” You laugh nervously, “The whole divorce process usually lasts up to a few months, some even takes a whole year. I could help you out with the boys and I can use you to ward my family off from moving back home.”

Nanami is quiet for a moment, actually thinking about it. Weighing the pros and the cons, not only would you be able to help him out but you’d also be able to get Gojo and blind-dating out of his back.

There really wasn’t anything he could loose, really.

“Or you two might fall in love.” Satoru teases, making Nanami throw him another side-eye, as if saying ‘I dare you to say another word.’

It’s a Thursday today and Sukuna absolutely loathed Thursdays apparently because it reminded him of Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. They all were far from the weekend Everyone seems to be happier than usual though. Maybe it was because you were there teaching some basic shit at the board or something.

“...and if we transfer this here and change the positive to a negative, you’ll end up having five as your answer.” You smile, placing your chalk down, “Does anyone have any questions?”

Echoes of no’s resonated throughout the room.

“Alright then, let’s end the lesson here so you guys can have an early lunch. I don’t think an assignment is in order since many of you were able to get a perfect score in the activity awhile ago.” You winked. A couple of whoops resonated throughout the whole class right after.

As the kids shuffle out of the room of the class, Sukuna remains behind. The ojisan had cooked them something delicious this morning and he wanted to eat it in peace without that pesky Nobara grabbing a share from his bento and Yuuji’s annoying babbles about horror movies with his best friend Junpei (the only one who was really bearable was Megumi, really)

“Sukuna-kun?” you called out, snapping him out of his small trance, “Are you alright?”

He notices a glint of worry in your eyes, he had to admit since his transfer here last Monday, you were the least annoying teacher in the academy the blue-haired professor in Japanese literature was absolute shit since he loved to tease him a lot and that bald-headed teacher in science who looked a lot like Mike Wazowski was an annoying twerp who loved dawdling in him and Yuuji’s business and you were kind of good at your job. Not only did his idiot of a brother stop coming to him and their ojisan for help in math but he could actually do the worksheets right and get an actual decent grade at it.

“Yeah.” he roughly replies.

“That’s good.” You smiled, he watched as you bind their worksheets together and clip them in utmost delicacy, “You should head to the cafeteria now, I heard they’re serving milk bread today.”

Without saying anything more, you left the room, leaving him there in the silence.

Well, the Christmas tree idiot was right.

You kind of had a motherly aura on you and it didn’t even look forced.

No wonder, everyone in this room was whipped for you despite your subject being a pain in the ass.

“You look like an idiot.” You mumbled as you slapped Mahito’s hand away in annoyance, your workmate wiggling his eyebrows like the little shit he is.

You completely forgot you did have someone like Gojo Satoru in your life and it was one of your co-workers, Mahito, a Japanese literature teacher who was too nosy for his own good.

“You’ve got a ring on your ring finger and a mailman comes in and gives you an invite for Zen’in Toji’s fortieth birthday.” he whistles, “Even Jogo-sensei gossiped by the water cooler awhile ago, saying that you had eloped with the man. Not that I’m judging you or anything...”

You choke on your saliva, clearly thrown off by the backhanded comment. That darn bald-headed fool that looked like the green eyed monster from the DreamWorks cartoon, he sure needed to lay off the gossip and actually focus on his job as the head of the science department, “You’re not denying it.” Mahito stated, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, “Why aren’t you denying it?”

“I’m not dating Megumi-kun’s father.” You grumbled, finishing up your paperwork, “That man is off limits.”

“Right,” he drawls on sarcastically, “...because you have a strict rule against dating hot older men with money.”

“I also teach his kids and his cousin…” You deadpan.

“We don’t even have a rule against that.” He retorts, rolling his eyes, “If we did, Hanami-sensei would’ve been fired a long time ago.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re so secretive. If it isn’t Toji Zen’in, who’d ask you out?”

“Hey, I do have a man.” You huffed, “and he’s very kind and considerate...”

The image of the tall and lean man sleeping next to you slowly wormed its way back from your memory and you feel your cheeks start to flush. Good god, what were you? twelve? How embarrassing.

You needed to get that image off of your head, it wasn’t right.

It was all temporary, anyways and he doesn’t even see you in that sort of way-

“Yes, I’m Sukuna and Yuuji Itadori’s guardian…” a very familiar stoic voice could be heard from the nearby table, cutting your thoughts short. Wait, were you so head over heels for the man that you started imagining him here? Yuuji and Sukuna’s guardian? Wait a minute.

All color drained from your face as you snap your head behind you to find the same man you were imagining.

Oh no.

Oh no, indeed.

There stood Nanami Kento in all his glory; crisp suit, stoic face, and eyes laced with mild worry.

“...L/N-sensei is Sukuna-kun’s adviser, by the way. It would be best to discuss this with them.” Akari somberly informed the man, turning to your direction. You don’t miss the shift of expressions when he sees you standing there.

Your mouth parts and you know you look like gawking fish trapped in a small aquarium.

“Akari-sensei’s looking at you with the new hot daddy.” Mahito mumbles next to you, eyeing him up and down, “Definitely wonder where all these old men come from these days.”

You were only half-listening to your co-worker because your head was all over the place, just what were the odds that he was the guardian of the new transferee’s? Just how awkward would everything be? Why did it even have to be at this school out of all places?

Never ending questions pop out of your head as you approached them, “Good afternoon, Nanami-san.” Your smile comes out very stiff and awkward while you hold your hand out for him to shake, clearly there was no memo on how you were suppose to act around your sort-of-fake-husband-whos-kids-you-actually-taught.

Nanami reverts back to his stoic expression as he clears his throat, “Yes, good afternoon to you too, L/N-sensei.” he greets, maintaining a straight-laced tone.

“Akari-sensei says that Sukuna has been quite...rude...in class…” you try to rack your brains up to describe his kid.

“Your son literally pointed out that the history lesson I was teaching was fake and that I should study again so he could get his tuition’s worth.” Akari looks clearly perplexed and ready to throttle the boy if it was legal. You had to admit, Sukuna went overboard with that insult.

You knew how passionate Nitta was about her job and what Sukuna just said to her was like a big ‘fuck you, you suck.’ to her.

“I’ll be sure to talk to him about this,” he sighs, bowing down, “I’d like to ask for forgiveness for that, the boy is a good and smart student-”

“Nanami-san, the school not only cares about grades but character as well.” Akari Nitta sighed, cutting him off, “I’ll let this slide once, if he does that again, it goes on the record.”

You internally bit your cheek, still trying to process everything that was going on.

“I understand. Thank you for that.”

“I’ll walk him out, sensei.” You immediately say soon after, wanting to have some alone time with him, “Let’s go, Nanami-san.”

You walk right next to him silently, some students peerlessly glancing at the tall blonde next to you but you were too immersed in thought to notice the stares, “Nanami-san?” you ask softly as soon as you reach the exit.

Nanami Kento looks at you, his eyes still laced with a bit of worry, “It’s okay.” you silently comforted him, “Just talk to him calmly.”

“That’s not the problem.” he sighed, “I just didn’t expect that the person I married would be the boy’s teacher.”

You sweat drop, “Aren’t you worried about talking to Sukuna? I mean, he literally just disrespected a teacher and you said that he and you weren’t in good-”

“It’s easier to talk to him about that rather than…” he paused, showing his ring, “this.”

You blinked.

Seemed like Nanami knew what to say about the little attitude problem his son had, “So you must be used to this?” you asked, “Him disrespecting the teacher?”

You notice the shift of expressions on his face, you had only known this man for a few days so far but he was starting to get easier to read. His eyes shed more emotion than his face, no wonder he likes wearing those funny sunglasses a lot.

“It’s something I’ve scolded him over a couple of times,” he gruffed, trying to dance around the subject, it seemed like he had such a soft spot to the point where he had a problem with disciplining them, “At times I believe it’s just because he’s way too smart for his age. The boy has read history books for fun when he was a kid and solved quadratic equations to prove that he’s better than me when he was ten.”

“It still doesn’t give him the free pass to say things like that to a teacher”

“I know,” he acknowledged, “I’ll be sure to give him a better scolding-”

“No, you see. This is why he thinks he can get away with it. He isn’t afraid of you. You’ll only probably tell him that you can’t do that.” you frown, crossing your arms, “You do know that not all sensei’s are as nice as Akari-sensei and he could get in trouble for that even more in the future, right?”

Silence lingered between you two for a moment and suddenly you realize that you must’ve said something way off the rails.

“I..” you turn red, embarrassed by the sudden outburst, “That was too much, wasn’t it?”

You look at him directly in the eye, the worry-filled ones are now replaced with a softer gaze. God, he really needed to stop looking at you like a kid. It would only make this set-up more awkward!

“No,” he mumbles, “It...It wasn't too much…”

“Oh.” you cleared your throat, flustered and looking away from his face, “Well, okay then goodbye then Nanami-sa-”

You needed to get out of this conversation quick.

“Kento.”

Your gaze snaps directly towards him, clearly taken aback by the correction.

“What?”

“We’re technically married now, right?” he softly corrected, “Call me Kento.”

“Oh,” You uttered again, this time softly. You looked down on your shoes, it seemed like the floor looked really interesting now, “Then bye-bye, Kento.”

“Bye Y/N.”

He leaves you standing there, cursing yourself because of your erratic heartbeat at the way he says your name in that voice. First name basis? okay, totally normal for sort-of lovers, right?

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm ; @frankenstein852 ; @neavil ; @shephard17895 @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @bleepop ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @pettybroccoli ; @nixxona ; @kiyoo-omi ; @omibaby ; @bokkunto ; @peccobagnaia ; @sangwoahbigbussy ;

@Kurok1717 ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi ; @airybnb ; @katshuya ; @atsuhaya

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #cigarettes and parfaits

474 notes · View notes

falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Interviews - Henry Cavill x wife/actress reader

Summary: You and Henry have been married for a couple years now, and when you’re both part of the Witcher cast, fun interviews are to be had.

Warning: nothing but a good time, btw I’ve never written anything like this so I hope it’s good enough that I might feel motivated to write more

-Readers Witcher character is loosely based off my Geralt fic from here (just a little self promotion), but in this case you play a full vampire in this Witcher universe

The days have been long and grueling, filming hours upon hours of stunts and regular acting had taken its toll. Not to mention the countless times in hair and make up paired with costume changes and traveling to film on certain locations.

To say being apart of Netflix’s The Witcher was full of tiring days and some accidental bruises would be a huge understatement. But none of that mattered, nor did you bother to complain when through the thick and thin of it all did you have Henry with you along the way. And your favorite big slobbery bear, Kal whenever he was allowed on set.

Fortunately for you in the beginning of all the craziness, the casting and writers had wanted you specifically for the part of Y/C/N in the new series before Henry even auditioned for the role of Geralt, that was soon given to him after you accepted your fresh role of vampiric heroine.

It was ironically strange in a good way, you had watched your dork of a husband play the Witcher: Wild Hunt a few times before, eventually learning of what Geralt of Rivia was, who Y/C/N was in the story, who Yennefer and Ciri were, Tris and even Jaskier.

Who would have thought that you’d finally get to snag a role side by side with Henry in quite literally one of the most fantastic shows you’ve ever heard of. You didn’t even need to see the show yet to know how well it was most likely to be reviewed. Being a key character in the grand storyline was enough to convince you of how amazing it would most certainly turn out in the finished product.

And after all was said and done, you couldn’t believe how well loved and popular the show truly became in the following months after shooting and its eventual release onto Netflix. The after parties and cast celebrations truly made you blessedly grateful for pulling through to the vary end.

Then again you had your mans Henry by your side every step of the way. He was your rock and you were most definitely his. You know life on set would have been far less entertaining and dreadfully long if not for the lovely company of your dear Witcher, Henry. And so far after the fact, you and a good portion of the cast have been placed in random interviews for the majority of the day.

Reason being, The Witcher has at long last finally premiered and as per usual the people and media live for those cast interviews that always reveal some interesting events. So far this morning you’ve done some interviews with Anya that have gone perfectly fine since the two of you seem to click so well.

Also it helps ease the anxiety of your fellow newer cast mates to the world of continuous interviews with an experienced veteran actor like yourself, who’s gone round the ring more times then you can count. Though you can’t help but wonder how Henry’s doing, considering you’ve been separated since the sessions began at 10am, you’ve had lunch and now it’s about 1 in the afternoon with more hours to go.

Luckily for you, you’ve just been informed of another interview with the man of the hour himself. Saying your goodbyes and well wishes to your fellow cast mates, you stand and follow the guide into the advised place. Aka some really nice hotel room that’s been done up real nice for efficient interviewing, complete with the Witcher insignia on a large background poster and three chairs that happen to look rather comfy.

The camera and sound people nod in acknowledgment as you walk in, you nod back no doubt making their day with your friendliness and adorable smile that quite literally lights up a room. Soon you spot the bubbly yet nervous interviewee who instantly welcomes you into her space like you’re an old friend.

You sit, a bit confused as to where your partner happens to be at the moment, the interviewer, Lauren makes small talk before a door opens and her big bright doe eyes go wide in nervous excitement. A telling smile upon her face as she shifts in her chair before looking back to you again with a happy grin.

Henry says a quick hello to the behind the scenes crew before waving to Lauren, you smirk while watching him get comfortable next to you, “Well, well, well. Get lost on your way up, you know they have guides for a reason.” You tease as he chuckles at your humorous jab, relieved to see you again after a couple hours apart.

“Traffic.” He quips with a shrug.

“Uh huh.” You mutter with a shake of your head before drawing your attention back to Laura, “Can’t take him anywhere I swear, he does this all the time.”

She laughs as Henry pretends to gasp at your teasing, you chuckle along with them before she finally collects herself, “Well, welcome back to London. It’s fantastic to have you both in town once again, and your big beautiful faces all over Leicester Square.”

You both laugh, “Right.” Says Henry, “I guess we do look pretty cool.”

“Hell yeah, I mean where else can I see myself with a giant sword on a building? And anyways look at this beautiful mug,” You say gently squeezing Henry’s cheeks in your hand, “he’s literally killing it out there.” They laugh as you give Hen another playful squeeze before letting go and setting your arm against the chairs cushioned armrest.

“Alight let’s start.” She says enthusiastically before glancing down at her cards then back up to you and Henry. Then into one of the two the cameras, “Hi I’m Lauren from Entertainment Weekly and today we’re here with the two stars of Netflix’s The Witcher.” She says enthusiastically while giving a nod to you two, indicating that the camera is now focused on you both, “Henry Cavill and Y/N Cavill.”

You both smile in acknowledgment as Henry gives a slight nod, “How you doing?”

“I’m great,” She beams, “So, I’ll get right into it, what do you like most about the story? What really drew you into the script that made you say, yes this is going to be awesome?”

Slapping a hand against Henry’s muscular leg, you hum, “I’ll let Hen take this one he’s a real expert on the linguistics of the whole show.”

“Thanks Y/N/N.” Replies Henry, bemused that you’re making him take the first question.

You nod to him knowingly with a smirk, “Of course.” Knowing how much he loves to talk about the show and also because you’d rather have him use his energy to talk about it then do that yourself. Priorities, right, though in your defense it’s been a long day.

“Well I absolutely love the games and the books themselves are phenomenal works of literature.” He explains, his face glowing with that usual glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “The story and the world of the Witcher is just so rich and full of potential that when I signed on for the show, I immediately knew it would be amazing, no doubt.”

You lean into the arm of you chair, “And of course I was there so that’s always a bonus.”

“That too.” He smiles adorably, “That too of course.”

Lauren smiles, “Great. So, what was it like working together, how was it having your characters interact with one another?”

You smile, setting a hand against Henry’s forearm, “This guy right here.” You deadpan before waving him off dramatically, “So annoying, my god he whined all the time and he was such a drama queen dear lord so ugh....” You start cackling before you can even finish the sentence causing Henry to loose it as well and with that the interviewer.

Shaking your head you rest your hand against his shoulder, “I joke, he was a gem to work with as usual...I mean I feel incredibly blessed to be able to act alongside my husband for months and months every single day. It’s a rarity in this line of work and I’m grateful to have shared this experience...and I guess more so this whole adventure with him as well.”

The interviewer aww’s as Henry tilts his head to lean into your hand that’s still resting atop his shoulder before pulling away just as quickly, the intimate sentiment not going unnoticed by you or Lauren who looks to be enjoying your loving yet calm energy with one another. “That’s so sweet, what about you Henry?”

“Oh yes absolutely,” Agrees Henry to your recent statement, “not only did I have her by my side through it all but the dynamic of our characters interacting together was so fun to shoot. I think the audience will really be able to see their relationship grow on screen into something strong and beautiful like in the books.”

Slow clapping you give him a curt nod of approval, “Well said.”

Lauren smirks, “Seems like it. Well, I was able to catch the premier yesterday and I gotta say...it was fantastic! I couldn’t believe how diffident the two of you looked from how you are now.” She gushes enthusiastically.

The corners of Henry’s lips curl into a proud smile for the fellow crew of the Witcher’s, “Oh that’s great then, honestly we gotta give all the props to the costume and makeup team, they’re so talented and know how to make us look like real badasses.” He adds.

You nod in agreement before grinning at a positive memory of your first interaction with Henry as Geralt, “Oh for sure, I remember during the early stages of production when our characters met each other for the first time, before this we came to set together but went separate ways to shoot our own stuff in the meantime so I never got a real look at him.” You recall with a bright smile as Henry watches your every move, beaming just the same.

“It was so funny, I was in the tent with Freya Allen, the wonderful girl who plays Ciri, and then suddenly her eyes got all big and nervous and I was like, that’s not me right? Something weird didn’t just happen with my costume? And then I turned around to find this man, wig on, face a mess, and his eyes looked so fearsome and different...it was a bit startling.” You say with a chuckle, “I clearly wasn’t expecting to see Geralt right then and there. He just looked so unlike Henry.”

“Yeah, I was almost hurt.” Laughs Henry, “She had to like squint and make sure it was me.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug, “He had some real creepy looking colored contacts, yunno?”

Henry fake scoffs, “You’re one to talk, I mean when I first say her, Y/N’s eyes were red and she had fake blood spattered all over her face and shirt. Oh, and not to mention those fangs they put on your teeth...we probably traumatized poor Freya that day.”

“Oh shit you’re right!” You exclaim with a snort of concealed laughter, “God I completely forgot about how I looked...now since I think about it, I did that a lot too. I would just walk up to people and be completely oblivious as to what kind of nightmare I looked like, honestly I might have scared one of our producers a couple of times.” You add with a half nervous laugh, it’s true, you did scare some of the crew unintentionally. Most of the time.

Lauren lightly chuckles, “That sounds like you were quite the sight to see then.” She says before glancing back down at her notes, “Alright I have’ta ask, is there anything that you two took home with you from set?”

“Besides Henry every night,” He holds back a laugh while covering his mouth as you nonchalantly continue, “Uh, yes actually I got to take home Y/C/N’s wolf ring that I loved so much and just thought was the coolist thing ever and....uh, I might have stolen some socks too.”

“So that’s why after filming the amount of socks of yours I had to fold increased?” Wonders Henry with a surprised snort of realization.

Turning your head to give him a “no shit” kinda look, you look back at Lauren, pointing your thumb at Henry, “Master sleuth right here, but hey, he folds my laundry.”

“Aw that’s great.” Adds Lauren with a smile before turning her attention to Henry, “What about you Henry? Take anything from set?”

“More then Y/N did actually...”

“He just about took the whole makeup trailer most nights, I swear.”

Henry chuckles, “That. Is true.” He agrees with a nod, “Interesting enough, at home I’ve got Geralt’s armor hung up in our living room and a multitude of other nicknacks that I’ve collected during filming.” He adds, glancing over to you, “So uh, yeah, we were fairly lucky to be able to snag what we could.”

Lauren smiles, absentmindedly shuffling her cards, “That’s awesome to have such special memorabilia, you guys really are fortunate.” She adds before reading off from another card, “Alright you two, care to play a game called guess the image? Witcher style.”

Your face perks up at this, you’re a sucker for interview games and Henry knows it, “Are you reading my mind or something, I have been waiting all day for someone to ask about playing a game.” You gush rather enthusiastically.

He smiles at your adorableness and how excited you’ve just become, Lauren grins, happy that her suggestion has been so well received, “Okay so how it works is, I’ll show you an image on my iPad and then you have to guess who or what I’m showing you.”

“Oh, cool I’ve heard of this,” You reply, turning to Henry with a smirk, “Loser has to clean Kal’s yard poop for a week.”

Rolling his gorgeous blue eyes he chuckles, “You’re on.”

“Alright, the stakes are high, you two ready?” Beams Lauren, holding her iPad to her chest as she awaits an answer.

“Yes, I’m ready to kick his ass.” You quip, leaning an arm against your chair while Henry does about the same, though he does his best to contain his laughter.

“Okay, first image.” She holds up the device to show some sort of weird golden thing, it’s shiny and hard, worst part is that you’re not entirely sure what the hell it could be.

Sensing your confusion Henry nudges your shoulder, though you ignore it before he smartly answers, “Oh, is that...Renfri’s brooch?” Little shit knows exactly what that is, of course he does.

Lauren claps, “Correct.” Zooming out of the image to show the full picture of the golden brooch, “Right on, that’s one point for Mr. Cavill.”

You scoff playfully, “Beginners luck.” While Henry side eyes you with a humorous grin upon his plush lips, he nudges your arm, “I’m going to really enjoy not cleaning up Kal’s grass turds for awhile.” He mutters lightheartedly, though you know deep down he’s being serious, no way is he going to win this, you think. You won’t have it, hopefully the next few pictures aren’t as difficult, Kal duty is not fun by any means.

“Shut up.” You grumble with a dismissive wave of your hand, though just teasing of course.

“Okay next image.” This time the blurred photo looks much more familiar, soon it clicks as to what the obscured blurriness actually is, yes!

“Got it! Anya’s er I guess Yennefer’s dress from the fight at Sodden.” Lauren giggles, zooming the image out to reveal Yennefer in her tasseled blue and purple dress from the battle at Sodden Hill. “I’m amazing I know.” You boast at Henry with a casual little bow in your seat.

“It’s the second question.” He deadpans, eyes crinkling in amusement as you shake your head at him.

“Pffff get outta here.” You mutter back, gently pushing his arm off of your chairs armrest and setting yours in its place while he gives you a fake shocked expression.

In turn you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, so instead of saying some sassy remark that would no doubt get a reaction out of him, you turn your attention back over to Lauren who’s looking over her notes again.

“Fantastic,” She says, glancing back up at you and Henry, “you’re both tied with one point each. Alright, anyone know what this is?” She asks showing something red and fuzzy, a bit of dirty skin showing from one corner but with The Witcher this bloody image could literally be anything.

The both of you squint, puzzled as to what this could be, “Y/N you got any ideas.” Wonders Henry, brows furrowed as his face contorts into deep concentrated thought.

Raising a brow, you hum, “If I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair point.” He chuckles.

Lauren smiles, “Any guesses?”

After a few concentrated moments, Henry shrugs in defeat, “I’m stumped.” He admits as you study the image harder, mind racing to put the pieces together as to what the hell you’re looking at.

“No, I think I might know this....erm is it...me?” You wonder, voice raising in question, hoping to be correct about this or face the teasing of Henry.

Lauren quickly zooms out of the obscured image, “It is!” She says excitedly, revealing the picture of you from your characters debut in episode 2 where you save a girl from a werewolf, your mouth is covered in blood and so is most of your costumes chest area and left arm from the struggle. Not to mention the make-up teams fun 20 minutes of throwing fake sticky blood all over you to get the right look for the taxing scene.

You grimace a bit, “Oh god that was quite the day on set,” You recall with a half smile, “I was doing stunts all day covered in that red syrupy dye, I think it took a week to get out of my skin.”

Henry suddenly snorts with laughter, “Right! That reminds me, I thought Kal had gotten cut or something, it was just Y/N who had hugged him not realizing she still had some fake blood on her arm.”

“Jeez that’s right, I felt so bad, but I couldn’t stop laughing once we realized it was just me.”

Lauren grins, excited to hear some hidden information about little things that happens behind the scenes, “Oh wow that must have been a sight, alright Henry, Y/N’s taken the lead with a two to one score.” She says as you playfully nudge his strong shoulder. “Second to last image, what is this?”

Without missing a single beat Henry replies, “Jaskier.”

Squinting at the image you lean closer to the iPad, “How the hell do you see Jaskier?”

Smiling the interviewer zooms out to reveal the bards full outfit from the banquet scene, though he’s in the background of a fight between Geralt and some Cintran knights. “Right on!” She exclaims as you lean back into your seat dumbfounded, shoulder flush against Henry’s as he clutches your arm and squeezes it affectionately.

Ignoring his silent show of victory you shrug, “And they say he’s just another pretty face,” Earning a laugh from Lauren and some of the crew as you smirk at the camera, face them shifting to apologetic, “also I’m so sorry Joey you beautiful bastard apparently I’m blind. Uh, we don’t have to dwell on it, Lauren whatcha got?”

“You guys are both tied with two points each, last chance to win.” She replies before glancing down at her iPad, “Alright, what is this?” She asks, her iPad showing that of fuzzy bright colors, with a small corner smear of dull white that clearly wouldn’t make much sense to the untrained eye.

Smirking you glance at a puzzled Henry before sitting up in your seat, feeling rather good about yourself, “Would that happen to be, Hen in Stregobor’s illusion?” You answer with, though sounding a bit as a question considering you aren’t entirely confident as to what image this is.

Lauren’s brows raise in surprise, “Henry, looks like we have a winner. Y/N you are correct.” She beams, enlarging the image to reveal Geralt’s side profile as he talks to the old wizard while the background stays colorful and shrouded in various arrays of sunlight..

Shaking your fist victoriously in the air you give a couple enthusiastic whoop whoops while Henry simply takes it like a champ, “Have fun cleaning up Karl’s monster turds, cause this lucky lady doesn’t have to.” You boast as Henry and the crew laugh.

“Well that was something,” Beams Lauren, “I’m so glad to have chatted for a bit about your guys’ amazing new series, and maybe ended a relationship in the process.” She says jokingly as both you and Henry chuckle.

Patting his thigh affectionately, you smirk, “He’s a tough old bear, but yeah, it was awesome having you talk to us.”

“Yes, take care now.” Adds Henry while the interviewer Lauren stands, saying her goodbyes as she goes to exit the room.

The camera crew take a small break to adjust things and whatnot as you and Henry wait patiently for the next interviewer. He turns, an adorable smile pulling at his lips while you pretend to ignore his fiery gaze. “Well that went pretty well, minus the fact that I’m on Kal poop duty for a week...but uh...” He leans in close to you now, “I missed you all morning.”

Breaking out into a smile you raise a brow, “Boring without me huh?”

“Always.”

You casually shrug, “I figured as much. Don’t worry, we have a hotel all to ourselves tonight.” Your brows wiggle suggestively causing your blue eyed lover to shake his head with amusement.

“Say it louder next time.” He jokes.

Side eyeing the oblivious crew you begin to speak a couple octaves louder, “Henry I can’t wait to fu..” Suddenly his hand presses against your mouth before you’re able to call any attention to yourself. He gives you a warning look before slowly pulling his hand from your mouth.

You grin mischievously, “I wasn’t gonna say that...”

“Sure Y/N,” He mutters in your ear as a new interviewer walks into the room and finds their chair, “and I’m wasn’t going to make you scream tonight.”

Your brows raise in surprise and admittedly slight arousal at his choice of wording in this room of all places. Eyeing him up, face still showing surprise, you finally break out into a satisfied smirk. “You know what? I think you should consider changing your offer.”

He thinks deeply for a moment, though you know he’s only pretending to get you riled up, “Hrmm...maybe, possibly, should I? Should we? You are my co-star after all, that wouldn’t be very professional now would it Y/N?” He states with a shit eating grin, all done while the crew and interviewer get ready, minding their business and completely unaware to yourself and Henry’s teasing.

Scoffing playfully you lightly swat his arm, “We are way past being professional.”

He chuckles, looking from you to the rest of the room, “Oh, they have no idea.”

#the witcher x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill

566 notes · View notes

immacaria · 3 years

Text

Prologue

Hello! How are you? I hope all of you are alright! So, this for Beetober 2021 and since @bloody-bee-tea said we can write for it too, I wrote this little thing. This fic is based on this prompt of @mingcheng-prompts and I hope that you enjoy it! It has no ship, though one of the prompts I based myself in had this intent, but it can be read as pre-relationship sangcheng or pre relationship mingcheng. Anyways, the word count is 2746 words and I hope you enjoy this a lot! Have a good day!

________________________________________________________________

When the news reached him, Nie Mingjue couldn’t say that it really impacted him though he was surprised by it and mourned the young life lost. Jiang Wanyin was a good kid and his brother’s friend and his death did shock him because he seemed like a promising young cultivator and a pretty strong kid even if he was so young. So, he paid his condolences to the family and moved on with his life, after all, he had a sect to conduct and a younger brother to control.

Months passed and people still talked about the young Jiang heir and his short life. Some said that he had taken his own life because of his mother’s constant demands and his father’s disinterest on him, others that it was his own father that arranged his death to guarantee that his first disciple would become his heir after his daughter married into the Jins and there was who believed in the official report that said that Jiang Wanyin had died in a night hunt. Not that Nie Mingjue had any motives to suspect what the Jiang clan said that happened.

But he couldn’t say with certainty that he held no doubts against their reports as he stared at the sword pointing at his neck. At first, he thought he was seeing a ghost, a young boy with pale robes and a bloodied sword by his side, and stayed back to see what he was going to do. And then he blinked and the boy disappeared from before his eyes, only to appear behind him with his sword pointed to his heart.

Nie Mingjue drew Baxia out on instinct and they fought for a good while, sometimes with him having the upper hand and sometimes with the boy. He was about to get it back when the boy ducked and swept his feet off the ground, falling over him and pressing a knee against his chest and the sword against his neck. He was wearing a mask that showed only his eyes and held half of his hair up by a pale and simple purple ribbon that matched his robes in color and discretion. It was just then that he recognized who he had been fighting against. Oh, gods, Huaisang is going to kill me., he thought as he said. “Jiang Wanyin?”

“Nie-zongzhu?” Jiang Wanyin said, eyebrows furrowing lightly before his eyes widened and he jumped back, bowing in apology but not sheathing his sword back. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same. Shouldn’t you be dead?” Slowly, he got up and if he wasn’t looking so closely, he would have missed the way that his eyes trembled slightly before they narrowed angrily at him.

“I’ll ask you one more time. What are you doing here?” He brought his sword up, assuming a defensive stance even though he moved Baxia back to his back.

“Near Qinghe? I don’t know, making the rounds, maybe.” And escaping my elders., he added mentally. Not that he was going to tell him that, anyways.

“Oh. Oh!” He brought his sword down again and Mingjue resisted the urge to smile at the cute way he opened his mouth minutely, as if finally realizing that he was near Qinghe. “I’m just passing, sorry for trespassing.” He bowed again, bringing his hands up after he put his sword back in its sheath. “Please, don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

“No that anyone would ever believe me. You are dead, after all.” He said, watching as the younger boy kneeled near a tree and started pulling some plants before pressing them together until a plaster was formed. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m doing this for fun.” He moved his head to the sides quickly, his voice reaching a false and too happy tone before going back to his usual tone and this time he didn’t resist the urge to snort. “Shouldn’t you keep going? You never know what kind of creatures are waiting in the shadows while you are here with a minor ghost like me.”

“I don’t think you would be a minor ghost if you were really dead.” He stepped closer to him in time to see a gushing wound on his calf. “What happened?”

“I cut myself. Nothing more.” And it was just then that he noticed how pale Jiang Wanyin looked and how his hands were trembling as he applied the plaster over the black-rimmed wound. Nie Mingjue tried to remember what could do a wound like that as he bandaged it tightly. “Bye, Nie-zongzhu. Have a good day.”

“Wait, Young Master Jiang.” He grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop. “You should have a look at that, a professional look. It looks bad.”

“Ghosts don’t need healers, Sect Leader Nie.” He pulled his arm back, trying to get him to let go. “And don’t call me that. Young Master Jiang is dead, haven't you heard?”

“Then who are you?” They stared at each other for some time before he sighed and motioned for him to lead the way.

“Go on, let’s end this soon.” He stepped aside, stopping fighting against his hold.

“Alright, but what should I call you?” He pressed, letting go of his wrist and taking a step back.

“Ghos-...” He stated, before his eyes rolled back and he fell down to the ground, only missing hitting his head because Mingjue held him in time. Without thinking, he jumped on Baxia and fled back to Qinghe with the boy, who shouldn’t be as alive as he was, in his arms and paleing at every second that passed. His healers looked at him suspiciously and tried to fuss over him too, but nodded when he said he was fine and asked for discretion and no comments before he went to fetch his brother.

After he explained everything, Nie Huaisang only nodded and told him to go on with his day, that he would make sure that his friend was okay. It was well after lunch when he appeared again with a fierce look on his face and a plan at the tip of his tongue. Apparently, Jiang Wanyin wasn't going anywhere anytime soon because the wound was poisoned and the plaster had the contrary effect of what he thought it would, quickening the poisoning and because Nie Huaisang himself wasn’t letting him go anywhere.

“For all the effects, he is our cousin and his courtesy name is Nie Qinghua, he uses a mask because it’s tradition on that branch of the family and his passing time with us for better education.” Nie Huaisang said, opening his fan with a flick of his wrist and staring at him with what seemed a challenge. “He is not coming back, Da-ge.”

“Alright. And I really doubt he would like to, with the way he was insisting he was dead.” Nie Mingjue said, putting the letter of the Sect Leader Yao down and his chin on his palm. “Does he agree with this? Or did you just take a half-coherent noise as agreement and follow through with your plan?”

“Of course he agreed with this.” His fan quickened in speed and he raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I’ll ask him again when he’s more awake.”

“Good.” He smirked, getting back to the letter. “What is his given name?”

“The same as before. But nobody from before is getting close enough of him to call him by his given name.” His brother got up, closing his fan with a snap before pointing it at him. “He is not going back to them, Da-ge. He is not.” The challenge was still on his eyes as he walked away from the throne room and Nie Mingjue thought that everyone who ever said that he was weak and unfit for the Nie clan had never truly seen where Huaisang’s strength really stood.

Two days later, Jiang Wanyin - for the outsider world, Nie Qinghua now - was up and actively agreeing with Huaisang’s plan. He explained that no, he did not die or faked his death but rather got lost after a night hunt and slightly disoriented after a particularly strong hit - At this, his cheek got adorably red and Nie Mingjue smiled at that. When he finally managed to get back home, he heard the rumors that he was dead and then he left, starting to wander around as a rogue cultivator. The gushing wound was apparently the night hunt’s fault too.

And just like that, Wanyin started to live with them and, at some point, he became Nie Mingjue’s first adviser and Nie Huaisang’s unwilling model to everything. Slowly, he wriggled his way into Qinghe’s lifestyle, starting to advise him over his shoulder and his acid humor while join the disciples every day on their training to learn the Nie style of fighting even if both Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue said that he didn’t need to. After he recovered fully, both of them started to spare everyday, early in the morning, finishing their exercise right before Nie Huaisang woke up and claimed him fully until he was needed in a meeting or something.

Despite his young age, Jiang Wanyin was really smart and had good ideas to help the clan, though some did have that eager hope that everyone was better than they seemed. He liked to discuss everything about the leadership of a clan and involved himself truly with the disciple’s training, supervisioning it every time he could and always wanting to know more about everything and everyone. He was strict, though, stricter than Nie Mingjue sometimes and more times than now they would be in a situation where they would be playing the strict and relaxed parents while his disciples tried to hide their amused laughs and grins behind their sleeves and each other’s shoulders.

When the cultivation meeting’s happened, Jiang Wanyin always sat between him and Nie Huaisang, wearing the mask that they ordered especially for him and combined with his new robes. At first, the other Sect Leaders were suspicious of him, especially Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao, who had been recently officialized after he proved his value. They tried to discover more about his past, but they weren’t capable of passing Nie Huaisang’s schemes and the Qinghe people’s loyalty to their new second in command that somehow managed to be even more hard-headed than their Sect Leader.

Even though they were suspicious, none of them suspected who Nie Qinghua really was and it was obvious it got to Jiang Wanyin when he introduced himself to his shije and shige again and none of them recognized him, simply smiling politely and introducing themselves back before leaving. He tried to make it look like it didn’t affect him as much as it did, but by that time Nie Mingjue knew him a little bit better and, not for the first, he wished he could declare war against the Jiangs for making this special and sweet boy so self-conscious and afraid of love. For the looks of it, his people agreed with him.

Eight years passed without further incidents and Jiang Wanyin had grown up a lot since he became Nie Qinghua. He learned a lot of the Nie’s style and some of the disciples, the younger ones especially, started to pick up on some of the Jiang’s style and Nie Mingjue couldn’t say he was really angry or offended at it. Not when it not only saved some of them, but made Wanyin’s eyes light up when he noticed that they were imitating.

But, nothing lasts forever and though their time together wasn’t free of worries and fights, Nie Mingjue couldn’t really say that he had a bad time with him by his side. It was some months before Wanyin’s twenty-four years birthday when his first qi deviation happened and he didn’t want to think why it took longer than it should. He stayed bedridden for only four days before he was up and working again, against both Wanyin and Huaisang’s protests, right in time for the last cultivation conference that unfortunately was being held at Qinghe.

“Mingjue, really, you should call this off. You are in no condition to head a meeting like this.” Jiang Wanyin said, crossing his arms as Nie Mingjue finished the last of his braids.

“Exactly, Da-ge! If you won’t listen to me, listen to A-Cheng!” Nie Huaisang said, passing his guan to him and hitting his shoulder weakly with his fan. “Just thought about all the bragging that Sect Leader Yao is going to do and how Sect Leader Jin is going to do whatever pleases him and nitpick everything!” He pleaded and Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at them as he stood up.

“I did and if the Healer Zhao says I am good to go, then I’m good to go.” He tightened his belt and turned to both of them with a raised eyebrow. “I’m fine, I’m going to be fine and if Sect Leader Yao starts to talk too much bullshit, I will simply throw Baxia at him and keep going.”

“Da-ge, do not throw Baxia at Sect Leader Yao!” Nie Huaisang said, following after him before stopping on his track with a questioning look. “Though it would be hilarious to see it and, probably, very effective. Alright, Da-ge, you can throw Baxia at Sect Leader Yao but only enough to scare him.” He nodded and Jiang Wanyin chuckled beside, his arms still crossed as he followed them a few steps behind.

“He would jump so high!” He chuckled, trying to hold back his smile as Nie Mingjue looked at him over his shoulder.

“And what about the scream he would let out?” He asked, very pleased with himself when both him and his brother started snickering like crazies. Really, he raised two monsters, he really did. “Ok, ok, control yourselves, we are here.” Two minutes passed before he stepped into the conference room and greeted all the other Sect Leaders there, sitting on his chair and trying to not let any anger settle in. It was all going fine and smooth until Jin Guangshan made an unfortunate comment and Jiang Wanyin responded it with sarcasm out of instinct.

“What was that, Nie-guwen?” Jin Guangshan said and Nie Mingjue immediately zoomed back in the conversation when he noticed it was to Wanyin he was talking with.

“Nothing, just agreeing that it's a very intelligent idea to go on with that marriage agreement when both parties are so interested in it.” He shrugged and Mingjue leaned towards Nie Huaisang with an inquisitive look.

“They are talking about Jiang-guniang and Jin-gongzi's marriage, Da-ge. Really, weren’t you listening?” He rolled his eyes, holding his fan higher as Jin Guangshan pointed at Wanyin and asked what the Nie clan had to do with the agreement between the clans Jin and Jiang.

“Nothing, Sect Leader Jin. But my cousin was only stating what everyone thinks about it and you asked him what he thought about it too, after all.” Nie Mingjue intervened when Wanyin’s shoulders tensed up. “He merely answered.”

“Sect Leader Nie, I know that you and your brother are very protective of your cousin, but you should really leave him to talk for himself. He is your advisor, after all.” Jiang Fengmian interjected and he saw Nie Huaisang’s fingers tightening against the fan. “I know he must be very intelligent or he wouldn’t have become your first advisor, after all.”

“And doesn’t show his face.” Sect Leader Yao muttered, probably thinking that nobody could hear him when it was exactly the contrary.

“I am, Sect Leader Jiang, but it would be very unkind to my cousin if I spoke over him every time.” Jiang Wanyin said, crossing his arms. “And I don’t show my face because of a tradition on my side of the family, Sect Leader Yao, but if my face will give you more trust in my opinions…” He lifted one of his hands, moving to remove his mask. “Then I will gladly remove it for you, Sect Leader Yao.”

“Wait, A-Hua.” Both Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue moved to stop him, but it was too late and he had already removed it.

“See? Happy now?” He waved the piece of cloth to the side as Jiang Fengmian stared at him with wide eyes.

“Wanyin?” Fengmian said, getting up from his seat.

“Hi, A-Die. How are you?”

69 notes · View notes

stubbedbakutoes · 4 years

Text

Promise Ring

Bakugou accidentally slips up amidst an argument with (y/n). The question now is, does he feel guilty? at all?

pairing: asshole!bakugou x fem reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst (i advise grabbing some tissues before proceeding with caution mwahaha)

part 2

masterlist

Whilst his hands held up the ring in the glistening light of the gradually rising sun, her movements halted, thankful she was mere seconds away from having the hot liquid in her mouth because she would more than likely be spluttering and coughing at the shock of what he had just said. Bakugou darted his eyes away from hers, because he’s embarrassed.

But then he’s just looking back at her again. Because he couldn’t not look at her. He licked his suddenly dry as hell lips, shrugging a shoulder.

“Fell for you hard and I don’t want this to just be some fling that we’ll get over in a few weeks.” The blush was rising on his cheeks and she found this self-conscious side of him adorable.

“Kacchan!” She kicked his shin under the table. “You’re asking me to marry you?” She asked slowly.

“No!” He scoffed playfully, which soon turned into a laugh when she squealed out something along the lines of ‘Don’t look so disgusted! how was I supposed to react to that, huh?’ “I mean, you’ve had my dick in your mouth, I'd say we’re pretty committed at this poi-.”

“But you’re really not proposing?” She cut him off, not wanting to hear anything from his vulgar mouth anymore.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, mindlessly playing footsie with her under the table. “I’m serious about it though.”

“Marrying me?”

Bakugou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a smile played on his lips, “About how we’re past the honeymoon stage.”

“What’s that?” Lifting her mug of tea for the second time, she finally took her first sip of what was always a good cup of morning coffee when made by someone else, specifically Bakugou.

“You know... That period at the beginning of the relationship when everything goes well and is free of problems.”

“Aside from arguing whether the toilet seat cover should stay up or not?”

Bakugou smiled fondly at her. “Sure.”

Their grins were far too wide and cheesy for this early in the morning but the feeling of giddiness they felt inside was too much to conceal and, without any further word on the subject, the rest of breakfast was served so the two could quiet down their grumbling stomach like a proper non-fling-type couple.

(y/n)’s trying the ring on her fingers, and when it only fits on her fourth finger (like he’d hoped), Y/N’s looking back at him. “I care about you too.” She smiled reassuringly. “And to prove it,” She began, stabbing a portion of Bakugou’s food with a fork. “I’ll have this piece of your pancake, thank you very much.”

“Where’s the correlation?”

“I just wanted to steal some food from you, sorry.”

“You’re not very good at being sly, aren’t you?” Bakugou giggled, playing with the matching ring on his pinky finger. “ I just. I love you, you know? And, like. I know we’re still young, so it’s obviously not an engagement ring. I like to consider it a promise. Something to keep your finger warm till I get you a proper ring.”

“—so now what? You just wait for me to leave so you can— what? Cheat on me?!” Bakugou slammed his open palm down on the wooden table, eyes alit with a fury so strong that even (y/n)'s terrified because she's never, ever, seen him this angry before. She's had fights with him before, of course she has, they've been together for over three years, but she's never seen him this determined to win an argument– to the extent that if they were in a cartoon show, he'd probably have smoke puffing out of either side of his ears.

But this is no time for her imagination to be running wild because she's pissed, too. So much anger flooded her veins that tears accumulating in the corner of her eyes are almost spilling out — that's the worst kind of anger.

(y/n) gaped at him. “Are you fucking serious right now? I had one single conversation with that guy and and you— you think I’m cheating on you?!”

And what's filling her with rage is that what they're fighting over is stupid, good Lord, it's so fucking stupid.

It started with (y/n) telling Bakugou about how she's finally found a dream, something to chase, because she's spent most of her life without having decided what to do for herself or wanting anything in her life. That dream involved her going to a school, outside the country, and that turned into a tiny misunderstanding, which blossomed into something else, followed something else after that, and then both Bakugou and Y/N were yelling at each other and calling each other names and it was all a horrible sight to see. Both of them have no idea what brought it on to this extent. All they're certain of is that they're pissed at each other and have, apparently, been pissed at each other for a long ass time.

Bakugou grinned. A grin that she loathed, because Bakugou’s grins are usually with mischief, with playfulness. Not this malice. He outstretched his arm on either sides of him, like he’s showing something off. “Well, I don’t see anyone proving me otherwise.”

She huffed, glaring right back at him. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?! What the hell is your problem?!” Bakugou yelled back at her, not even bothering to try to keep from shouting. He pointed out the door, “You were fucking flirting with that two-faced asshole right in front of me! You're the problem!”

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?! That was months ago, you've had that stupid excuse of a grudge on me ever since, huh?!" (y/n)'s eyes narrowed and crinkled – not in a way that Bakugou's used to seeing. "I haven't done anything wrong! All I've done is fucking been there for your stupid ambition to be the number one hero-

"Stupid? Stupid?!" Bakugou repeated incredulously, eyes widening as he quivered with anger. "I'd watch my words if I were you. This is my fucking life goal and something I want for myself that you're calling stupid."

(y/n) was nearly suffocating on her fury, her laugh void of any happiness leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "I am aware of what I'm spewing out. Your fucking dream was delusional and far fetched but I supported it, didn't I?! I watched every single match, patched up your hands when they bled from all that training, made you delicious bentos to fuel you up for the day – "

"– And now you say it was all stupid," Bakugou laughed mirthlessly, glaring at her so hard that (y/n)'s knees start to tremble. "How romantic can this get?" He raised his voice, arms stretching out before clapping obnoxiously loud, "I hope shitting on your boyfriend's dream has given you some sort of satisfaction."

"And you've got some nerve to pull all of this shit with me about suddenly wanting something for myself because I've met someone else and that I'm cheating on you," (y/n)'s lips tremble, her voice practically shaking with anger as she spoke, a finger going to point accusingly at him, "You're not my boyfriend. You're just one big hypocrite!"

"You fucking are, though!" His voice was laced with venom as he practically spat the words in the woman's face. "You're definitely planning to elope with some hunk city boy! I'm not fucking good enough for you, huh?!"

And that’s— that’s the final straw.

Relationships are about trust, and Bakugou obviously didn't fucking trust her. If he wasn't so much of a prick in how he reacted to her telling him her future plans then they'd probably be cuddled against each other, asleep, and Bakugou would be the first to start apartment hunting for her — for them, because he'd even move with her, since he knows he couldn't properly function without her.

But before she even opened her mouth to inform him that she's done with this toxic relationship, he beat her to it, “Good thing I never fell in love with you, then.”

(y/n)’s face changed from cocky to puzzled then to heartbroken. As his words made her world crumble, Bakugou took pride in the sight of the bewildered woman before him, not planning to take his words back anytime soon since he saw this argument as a game of who can devastate the other first. And the prize was looking back on this fight one day and thinking, wow, I won that. It didn't matter what had been said and done in his book.

But (y/n) and Bakugou are two sides of the same coin; she simply wanted to have her point reach his end, so that they can both agree to put this aside and go back to their normal, non-fling-type couple selves.

“So all of this,” She motioned between them, interrupting his train of thought “meant nothing to you? You never even loved me?” She asked with what seemed to be a mixture of hurt and sadness but mainly anger. Before he could even blink, she was over hitting him on the chest with her tightly clenched fists, trying to let out her pain, “I hate you, you're the worst! You told me numerous times you loved me- that you’d never even make me feel like shit! What’s changed, Bakugou? Why can’t you love me anymore?” Her voice cracked, nonetheless she was smoldered with rage.

"Are you deaf? I said I never did. I was lying the whole time, whenever I told you that— that I did."

Bakugou took every hit she was giving him because he stood firmly on his feet, unnecessarily adding fuel to the fire, as if (y/n)'s miserable state wasn't enough to satisfy him — to drop his guard and tell her he wanted to take it back. That he wanted to say I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry, I love you, I didn’t mean to say that— but then (y/n)’s letting out a laugh that sounds so bitter, it made Bakugou flinch.

“Fine,” she breathed out, then she’s scoffing out another harsh laugh. “Then— we’re done. Wouldn’t want you to waste your time and effort in a relationship that you never thought was worth it. I don’t want to waste my time and energy being with someone who clearly doesn’t feel the same kind of love towards me.”

And she turned on her heel, ready to head straight out the door, purposefully ignoring the faint, “Wait, (y/n)—” from behind. Her opposite hand subconsciously grazed the promise ring she shared with Bakugou, and she realises something.

At one swift movement, she pulled at the said ring and threw it at him with more force than necessary.

“What a fucking nonsense 'promise' that was,” She said out loud, and it rang through Bakugou’s ears, because he made a pathetic whining sound that's never been heard before, because this moment couldn't have a bigger emotional toll on him than anything else.

"Y/N, hear me out," he sniffled. "I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean an ounce of what I said. I know you're not cheating on me, baby, I'm sure of that. I was being a dickhead for that and I'm so fucking sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I love you, Y/N. God. I need you so much, and I was lying when I said I never did. When you're not with me, I'm not... me. And I just," he sighed, pulling the ends of his hair aggressively. "I'm sorry, I really am."

Y/N’s got a hand on the door handle, but there were fingers slowly wrapping around her other wrist. She yanked her wrist out of his hold like his touch burned, causing Bakugou's lips to shake. It's hitting him now, the fact that he's losing the girl he courted and spent so much time with. The girl who kept him wide awake at night because of how much she clouded his mind. Not to mention, the ring which symbolizes their commitment to each other, is being thrown away like it's nothing.

(y/n) peeked at him through her eyelashes, "Give me a break. I obviously don't have a place in your heart, you've made that painfully clear to me. So do me a favor and fuck off."

He very nearly heaved with his next breath. He held a hand up, ring between his pointer finger and thumb. “I meant it when I said I wanted to get serious with this relationship. I still do, and that'll never change. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, that you should be with someone— someone better in every fucking way possible, I want to be the one to marry you. That wasn’t a false promise. That was— that is the promise that I swear to God I’ll be keeping until my last breath.”

2K notes · View notes

slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

baby, kiss it better - m. tkachuk

I saw a 13-minute video last night just called “the Tkachuk brothers annoying people” and immediately got an idea. Two and a half hours later, this was the result. Title is from cardigan off of Taylor Swift’s masterful new album folklore. Listen if you haven’t, and let me know what you think of this (and the album!)

——

You glanced up at the arena clock. 4:12 left in the first intermission. Taryn rubbed your shoulder lightly, catching your attention. “You good? You’re looking a little on edge.”

You blinked a few times, shooting her a tight smile. “Yeah. It’s good, I’m good. Just a little tired, nervous since the team’s down.” The score was 0-2, Vancouver having gotten in two early goals that the Flames hadn’t been able to catch up to.

“There’s still 40 minutes of play,” she said, shrugging, “so don’t get too worked up. Weirder things have happened.”

This smile was a genuine one. “Fair.”

Chantal shuffled back into her seat, precariously balancing two trays of food in her left hand while trying to hold her phone in her right. “Hot dog for Taryn, and nachos for you, love,” she said, passing the chips over.

“Thanks, mom,” you said. You and Matthew had been married for just under two years, but it still never ceased to amaze you how welcoming his family had been, straight from the start. It had never been a question of if you’d “fit in” or not with them; you were treated like a second daughter from the moment Matty brought you home to St. Louis. His mom was beyond grateful her son had finally found someone to tamp down his attitude, Brady loved having another person on his side when he’d chirp his brother, and Taryn was excited to finally have another girl around the house. You loved your own parents, but being grafted so easily onto the Tkachuk family tree was something unexpected but so, so welcome nonetheless.

It had become something of an annual tradition to have them fly in for a week or so at least once during the season, usually at some point between Matthew’s birthday in December and your own in March. Keith was tied up with something back in Missouri, so he had sent his regrets and his wife and daughter on a plane to Calgary in his stead. They stayed in one of the spare rooms in the house you and Matthew had bought just before the wedding, a gorgeous slate gray four-bedroom on the edge of the city. It had an enormous yard that was practically begging for a dog, so you had dragged Matty to the animal shelter right after returning from your honeymoon in the Seychelles. Cocoa was the other love of your life, an exceedingly friendly lab mix whose chocolate brown eyes had captured you the moment you saw her.

But Chantal really had turned into your second mom, even outside of your relationship with Matthew. You hung out with her and Taryn on your own accord during the off-season, and on more than one occasion Matty had walked into your bedroom only to see you on FaceTime with his mom.

“It’s nothing,” she said, waving you off. “I know how you feel about cheese.” It’s true, you had an ongoing love affair with cheese.

You bent down, taking a sip of water before replying to a text, slipping your phone back into your jeans pocket. You had never been the type of person to check your phone during games, even when Matty wasn’t on a shift. You were his wife, sure, but you were a hockey fan before you ever met and would rather step on a Lego barefoot than miss a single second of the action. The referee dropped the puck at center ice and the second period began.

Midway through the period, they had cut the Canucks lead by half, Lindholm sneaking a wrap-around goal in the fourth minute, but were still trailing by one. The frustration was beginning to show. Chirps were being thrown more freely, hits got a little dirtier, and more than a few sticks had been banged against the wall in frustration on the home bench. Which is why it wasn’t particularly surprising when Matty dropped the gloves after a decidedly nasty cross-check on one of their rookies.

Matty got into fights. It’s what he did, he was an enforcer; you knew that when you met him, starry-eyed and 21 and about to finish college. Even with the league’s increasingly restrictive rules on fighting, he always found a way around them. And if he couldn’t find a way around them, he just broke them. There was a reason he led the team by a mile in penalty minutes. You had long since accepted that some nights your husband would come home bruised and battered, a little worse for wear. It was the part he played on the team, and since he had been named captain after Giordano’s retirement, he felt a newfound responsibility to look after his team even more than before. Especially the new players, and especially the rookies. He remembered the feeling of being lost in a new city, in a country that wasn’t his own, with next to nobody that he actually knew. Nobody fucked with his boys, not on his watch.

Like the rest of the thousands of fans, you watched the fight. You were invested. You played with the hem of your jersey, the same one Matty had given you for your first anniversary when you were dating. You were as proud as anyone wearing it to games back then, and the sentiment hadn’t changed after more than three years. All that was different was that you were wearing a jersey that had your last name on it too.

Fights rarely made you nervous anymore. Hockey was a rough game, and fighting was a part of it. Everyone knew Matty could hold his own, and despite his devil-may-care attitude, he was usually good about not picking fights he didn’t think he could win. But all of the bets were off as soon as the gloves were thrown and the fists went flying.

For the first few seconds, it seemed like Matty had the upper hand; he had grabbed a hold of the other player’s collar and had managed to land a few well-placed punches, but his lead was short-lived. He lost his footing for just a moment, but the Canucks player saw an opening and moved in, landing hooks and uppercuts and jabs that Matthew barely missed. The linesmen tried to move in, break up the pair, but they shook them off. Matty tried to land a punch with his left hand, but he missed his face and hit the helmet. The close-up on the screen broadcast his wince for the whole crowd to see. You felt a pang in your heart. As much as you understood that this was his job, this is what he was meant to be doing, it never got any easier. He tried to take a jab with his bad hand, an ill-advised decision that led to him cursing not-so-under-his-breath. The Canucks player missed one, harmlessly hitting the air above his head as Matty ducked. Then he just barely grazed his neck.

And then he didn’t miss one, his fist leveling with Matty’s cheek. He lost balance, his skates coming out from under him as he fell to the ice, first his shoulder, then his head. You thanked God that he hadn’t been so stupid as to take off his helmet, but you didn’t like how he landed on his hand and how slowly he was getting up. The athletic trainer jogged out on the ice, kneeling next to your husband as your hand shot out to the chair on your left, fingers interlacing with Taryn’s as you held your breath, waiting for him to get up. And he got up a minute or two later, but there was blood and gauze and he had to be supported on both sides, gingerly skating off the ice and going straight to the dressing room.

You tried to steady your breathing, reminding yourself that injuries happened all the time in sports, that half the time they weren’t nearly as bad as they looked, and that Matthew was one of the toughest people you knew and he would fight tooth and nail to get back out onto the ice barring anything extreme.

Play continued for a few minutes. You broke your “no-phone” vow and pulled it out, flipping it over and over in your hands as you glanced down at the home screen, waiting for a text to come through. He knew to call you if it was something serious, or to get someone else to contact you, but leaving you hanging wasn’t something he was known for. At the next break in the action, an icing call against Vancouver, the PA system crackled to life. “Number 19, forward Matthew Tkachuk, will not be returning to the game following an assessment by the team’s medical and athletic training staff.” A nervous ripple of whispers chorused through the crowd. You gripped Taryn’s hand so hard you thought you’d break it. Your knuckles were so tight you feared they’d split. He’d never been pulled from a game after a fight; five minute majors here and there, once or twice a season he’d get a game misconduct and be thrown out for ten, but never in your entire relationship had it been his injuries that kept him from playing.

You turned to Taryn and Chantal, your eyes wide-open in fear and your heart racing. Fuck it, you weren’t going to wait for someone to give you permission to see your own husband when he was probably in the worst shape you’d ever seen him. Chantal’s expression mirrored your own; she knew this feeling, she’d dealt with it for the twenty years her sons had played hockey. She looked over at you, mouthing three words. Go to him. You frantically nodded, squeezing Taryn’s hand before shooting up from your seat, grabbing your bag and shoving the strap over your head. One way or another, you didn’t think you’d be back.

The heels of your boots clicked underfoot as you made your way out onto the concourse, following the familiar signs of the Saddledome to the private elevators on the far side of the arena. The attendant on call was an usher you knew, thank God, who opened the elevator doors immediately as you walked up. You tapped your foot nervously as the elevator descended down, down, down until it hit the lowest level, the underground corridors that were usually crowded with players, families, and media after games. It was eerily silent as you jogged through, the only sounds being your boots against the floor and the distant roar of fans as play continued. One left and two rights later, you were standing outside of the door to the dressing room, pausing for exactly two seconds to steel yourself to see whatever condition Matthew was in. Once you hand calmed your still-shaking hands as much as your body would allow you, you pushed the door open.

You were greeted by the team doctor and the head athletic trainer, crowded around your husband, who was propped up on what looked like a massage table. His jersey and pads had been stripped off, all that remained was his sweat-soaked t-shirt. He caught your eye. “It’s worse than it looks, I promise, babe.” You gingerly took a few steps forward. Matty’s good arm, the one that wasn’t being worked on, wrapped around your waist. He kissed you on the shoulder.

“What’s the damage?” You asked timidly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and looking at the doctor. He finished splinting Matty’s third finger.

“Couple minor cuts, mild concussion, sprained wrist, one broken finger,” he listed off. You sucked in a breath. He must have sensed the worry radiating off your body, because he smiled kindly at you. “I won’t lie, it’s not good, but I’ve seen worse. He should be back in a few weeks at the longest.” He turned to Matthew. “We’re done here, but you’ve got to promise me to take it easy.” He looked pointedly at you. “Listen to your wife when she tells you to slow down.” Matthew nodded, a hint of his old smile returning. “It really shouldn’t hurt much, but if it’s bothering you you can take some Tylenol. Let me know if it gets significantly worse.” The doctor zipped his bag shut, leaving with the trainer out the door and your husband with a finger splint and wrist brace.

You carefully hopped up onto the table, carding your hands through his curls, your foreheads just barely touching. He was sweaty, but you couldn’t have cared less. “You really scared me out there, you know,” your voice said, cracking.

Matty felt a pang race through his body, one that had absolutely nothing to do with his physical injuries. This was his wife, and he had scared her, even though it wasn’t entirely in his own hands and even though that was something he swore on their wedding day he’d never do to her. His heart broke like he broke his promise. “I’m sorry. He was about to beat up on the rookie, and I felt like I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand by and watch it when I could do something. But I worried you, and I shouldn’t have.”

You pulled away slightly, gently grabbing his good hand and running yout thumb over his knuckles. “I know, and how much you care about the boys, how deeply you care for the people in your life, is one of my favorite things about you. It’s one of the first things that made me fall in love with you.” The corner of his lip twitched up in a half-smile. “But I’ve never been scared for you in a fight before, Matty. And this scared the shit out of me, babe.”

His fingers skated up your arm to brush away the lone tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “I promised when we got married that I’d always take care of you, put your needs before my own. I didn’t do that today.”

“I get that it’s what you do, I get that you’re an enforcer,” you said, shaking your head. “And I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to give that up for me. I married you for you, all parts of you. And like it or not, that includes the parts of you that beat people up on occasion.” You gave a watery laugh. “I’m not asking you to stop fighting altogether. The boys need someone to back them up, and I’m proud that you’re that person. I’m just asking you to maybe think a little more before you go to drop the gloves, you know?” His blue eyes pierced into your own, his expression softening. “This was fine when you were 21, and I knew what I was getting into back then. I know what I’m getting into now. But,” you took a shaky breath, “there’s someone else you’ve got to worry about.”

His brows furrowed, not quite able to piece it together. You took a hard swallow. This wasn’t how I wanted to tell him. “I want to bring our baby to games. There’s nothing more that I want than for them to get to see you doing what you love. But I don’t want our son or daughter to have to see their father laid out on the ice because he couldn’t keep his temper in check for once in his life.” The tears were coming more freely now, and you reached up one hand in a futile effort to try and wipe them away, while the hand that was holding yours tightened almost imperceptibly.

Matthew’s eyes searched your face, looking for any trace of a joke, but he should have known better. This wasn’t something you’d joke about. His breath hitched in his throat. “You’re pregnant?” His heart lifted. While the two of you hadn’t been actively trying, you had gone off birth control a few months ago, having agreed that you were both open to the idea of a baby now, choosing to let whatever happened, happen.

You nodded, a real smile emerging on your face for the first time all night. Almost on its own accord, his hand moved to your stomach, hovering over it as if he was expecting you to already be showing. You looked down at his awestruck face, silent permission for his hand to creep under your jersey, pressing flush against your stomach. “How long have you known?”

You tilted your head. “I found out two days ago, just before I left to go pick up Taryn and Mom from the airport.”

“Do they know?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I wanted you to be the first. I was going to tell you this weekend, but…”

“Plans change.” You nodded.

“How far along are you?”

You met his eyes. “Eight weeks.” Matty silently cursed himself. He wished you had been able to do it how you wanted. He leaned into you, ghosting a kiss over your lips that enchanted you and comforted you and took your breath away all at the same time. He pulled away. “I promise I’ll take a step back from the fighting. You’re right that it’s my job, but this, you, will always be more important.” He took a deep breath. “Being your husband is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. But this,” he breathed, running his thumb over your skin under his jersey, just above where your son or daughter the size of a raspberry was, “being a dad?” His voice cracked. “I’m never going to do anything better. I don’t care if we win the Cup, or I get into the Hall of Fame, or sign the biggest contract the league’s ever seen. You and this baby are the most important people in my life. And I swear I’ll never do anything again that could make you question that.”

He kissed you again, but this one was different. This one grounded you, somehow communicating all of the guilt, and confusion, and happiness he was experiencing without saying a single word. “And I’m so, so happy about this, babe. Do you know how happy I am?”

It was a little bit of a rhetorical question, but you smiled anyway. “Really happy?”

A full-blown grin burst out onto his face. “I’m fucking ecstatic, babe. We’re having a baby. You’re gonna be a mom. I’m gonna be a dad.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but just like the kiss, these were different. Happy tears. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

#matthew tkachuk #hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl imagines #nhl writing #nhl #rat king #hockey #matty tkachuk

889 notes · View notes

sokkas-honour · 3 years

Note

#17 for the spotify wrapped with zuko! <3

prom queen - zuko x reader

pairing: zuko x fem!reader

wc: 1k (it’s a short one, i didn’t feel like exploring this song too much as i associate it with a certain sort of my life. i also didn’t put too much effort into tbh, again for the same reason)

warning: if you’re sensitive to body image talk, possible diet talk, possible starvation mention, please don’t go any further. i tried to keep it as light as possible but i did project onto it a bit.

notes: i cherry picked lyrics that work best for this, and the least triggering ones. its kinda of a part two to detention as requested by @aangsupremacy (hopefully this works for you), just not a direct one.

wish i was like you, blue-eyed blondie, perfect body,

she was everything you could never be. with beautiful long black hair and an elegance that you only wish you could have. but most of all, she had the firelord’s attention, she had his heart. she had his attention ever since they were children and it was foolish of you to ever imagine things going differently.

it was foolish of you to think he’d even fall for you, the waterbender who’d been tasked to be his bodyguard ever since you two were children. it was foolish of you to think that, even though you two had been through so much together, you still would never even cross his mind as anything more than a simple friend.

all the nights you two spent on that boat, giving him a space to talk when he needed it. you had always been there for him, you were with him every step of the way from the agni kai to ba sing se, to joining the avatar and defeating ozai. you two had grown close during that time and you genuinely thought that something was happening between the two of you, but you couldn’t be further from the truth. you had forgotten that the affection that zuko felt towards mai transcended any relationship that you had built up with him. spirits did you wish you were her.

maybe I should try harder, you should lower your beauty standards,

you remembered the comments you used to get while on the boat, your body constantly being picked apart by middle aged men who didn’t have any better to do then to bodyshame a teenager. being away from the crew, a weight had been lifters off your shoulders when you found a group of friends that never said anything about your appearance nor found anything wrong with it.

you should’ve realised that when you agreed to join zuko as his advisor that the picking apart would get worse. his cabinet was still very closed minded and judgemental, none of them liked the idea of a waterbender from a watertribe to be the one advising the leader of the firenation, none of them seemed to remember that your whole childhood was spent in between these walls.

most of the time, words were never said directly to you but usually were whispers strategically placed to make sure you heard what they all thought about you. it hurt a lot but you were able to push down all of your emotions until one day, when someone who used to be a part of zuko’s crew, came to help him around the place. the crew had caught on that despite how much he aggravated you, you had a thing for zuko, so he of course made fun of you for it in front of the firelord’s officers who knew of his current relationship status. and that’s when things started to go down hill.

“i’m going to find the firelord and see what he thinks about it.” it all started when you were having a meeting with some of his esteemed generals and admirals, he was absent so you took his place which meant that some people thought it was fun to try and take advantage of your lack of authority. the only way to settle the current argument was to grab the firelord himself and drag zuko into the mess that only he could clean.

“wouldn’t want to do that, his girlfriend might think you’d want to steal him.” a misplaced teasing rang from general tao, one who seemed to always be against you.

“please, mai would take one look at her and not even think that she’d pose a threat. i mean have you seen her body?” another voice inserted himself into the conversation and you started to feel like you’d wish that you could just evaporate into thin air.

“not to mention that marrying someone from the watertribe would be absolutely dishonourable.” general sho added, a smirk on his face as he knew that all of their comments were affecting you. sho was definitely someone who liked to pretend that he didn’t miss ozai, just like half of the people in the room that laughed at the jokes.

“meeting adjourned.” you exclaimed, not wanting to even deal with them any longer and just go to your room and cry about what had happened. you were the first to stand up and go to the leave the room but right as you were about to leave, you heard one more comment.

“go cry about it, maybe you can waterbend it or, even better, loose a little.” it was the last straw and you felt your eyes prick with tears but you couldn’t show total weakness so you held your composure and scurried to your room, making sure to avoid absolutely anyone.

im no quick-curl barbie, i was never cut out for prom queen,

when you closed the door to your chamber, you threw yourself on your bed and just cried, letting all the words that everyone had ever said get to you. you knew that you weren’t ever going to make a good ruler, which is probably for the best that mai is a good contender for the position seeing as she and zuko are madly in love.

but spirits did you wish you were. you weren’t the regal type, you weren’t elegant, you weren’t raised as someone important, you were raised as a bodyguard who’s entire worth was based on wether or not you could protect the future firelord. not matter how much you tried to get over him, you couldn’t. your entire self worth had been based around him since a young age so of course it continued into your early adult years. your whole life had been intertwined with zuko and your destinies, at least that’s what you thought, were always going to be shared in a way.

maybe that’s why you tried your hardest to always be nice to him, be there for him, be a friend for him even when he didn’t want one. sometimes you wondered if you actually did love him or if it was just that if he did love you, you would actually feel like you had a place. you’d always conclude that it was the first, just seeing him happy and smile made your heart race as a fast as a rollercoaster. no one else had ever done that to you.

you remembered the one time you had ever lashed out at zuko. you were grieving and he was being selfish. you had always given him the space to talk about his feelings so you expected the same, only, it took you ignoring him for a couple of days for him to finally understand that friendship was a two way street, even when he was banished.

after that, zuko always listened to you when you needed it and spirits did you wish he was there now. you don’t exactly know what you’d tell him but in right now, you craved him just rubbing your back soothingly and letting you air out what was on your mind. those moments weren’t too common but they were precious.

you were ready to just recompose yourself in your room alone but you jumped a bit when you heard someone knock at the door.

“shit.” you mumbled, quickly trying to find somewhere to look at your reflection to wipe the tears and boy was that going to be a problem. your eyes were red, cheeks were puffy and heavily tear stained, and your hair was disheveled from gripping it as you sobbed.

there was nothing you could do but pray that whoever was behind that door was just a guard coming by to tell you something, they never commented on your current appearance as they were used to seeing the firelord in unpleasant circumstances.

you took a deep breath in and went to open the door. you felt your heart stop when you saw your best friend with a huge smile on his face.

“hey y/n, i-" zuko started off his greeting with the cheeriest voice you’d ever heard from him but the tone quickly switched once he registered that you had been crying. “are you okay?”

“yeah zuko, i’m fine.” you lied, fully aware that he could see that you weren’t and the lie was useless, but you couldn’t talk about what was going on with zuko.

“y/n i know you’re lying, you’re my best friend. and you look like you’ve just been crying.” zuko placed his hand on your cheek and rubbed his thumb gently from side to side. you sighed and leaned into it, savouring the affectionate moment.

“it’s fine, it’s nothing important.” you mumbled after a couple of seconds were spent in silence, not knowing if this was the time to tell him about the treatment that you’d received from his generals and the love that you had for him.

“you know you can tell me anything, right y/n? i learned that a while ago thanks to you. i come to you for help and advice, and vice versa.” he insisted, removing his hand, much to your dismay. his eyes filled with concern as he wasn’t going to just dismiss your feelings like the last time he’d found you crying.

“i don’t want to talk about it right now, maybe at another time.” you compromised, figuring that in a day or so you could finally come forward about it without breaking down.

“deal.” he smiled, glad that you had accepted his help.

“but you had news to tell me, so don’t let the way i look keep you from telling me.” you returned his smile, changing your tone to one of intrigue at the wonder of what got your friend so excited.

“mai said yes to the trip!” he announced giddily.

“the trip to?” you asked confused, if he had discussed this trip with you, you had completely forgotten.

“the trip where i plan to propose to her! i’m pretty sure i told you about this the other week.” he clarified, slightly confused as to why you didn’t remember as in his memory, he had talked it out with you a couple of weeks prior.

“oh yeah, that trip.” you felt your heart drop, you completely forgot about that, it was the last hope of zuko ever loving you as more than a friend, it was already small to begin with but now it was nonexistent. she would say yes and you’d have to live with the knowledge that you never said anything to him, you’d have to live with and help the new firelady, you’d have to see them rule the nation as you’d just think about your unrequited love.

“we leave the day after tomorrow, do you think she’ll say yes?” the firelord was nervous about a girl, your heart broke a bit knowing that you never had that affect on him but it was to her fault for keeping your feelings to yourself.

“of course she will zuko. the two of you are perfect for each other. you’re handsome, a great friend, you’re always there for your friends, you always want what’s best for everyone, and youre a great ruler. and mai, mai’s just drop dead gorgeous.” you rambled, not realizing that you might have raised his suspicions at your listing of his qualities but all it did was make him more confident, he must’ve only seen your small confession as a planotic one.

“thank you y/n. and when i get back, i’ll find someone for you so we can have double dates!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“yeah zuko, that’d be great.” if only he knew that the only person for you was him. you only gave him a half smile before he turned around to do whatever, leaving you alone in your room with something more to cry about.

if im pretty, will you like me? they say "beauty makes boys happy"

a little while after he left, you went out of your room to go clear your mind next to one of the turtle duck ponds. as you sat down to watch the adorable animals, you saw mai pass down the hallway that opened to the courtyard. she spotted you and waved, not bothering to stop as she probably had somewhere to be. you waved back but it made you realise something.

as you looked at your reflection, you thought of how beautiful mai was and how average you were. you’d never compare to her beauty, meaning zuko would never look at you and think ‘woah’. maybe no one would ever see you as the most gorgeous person in the four nations, all you’d be was someone who let the love of their life live with his life without knowing about your feelings.

maybe it was time to move out of the firepalace, the guards didn’t seem to like you and the comments started to get too much to hide the way it hurt you. you wouldn’t have to watch zuko and mai act all lovey dovey. youd finally move on from your life where your whole worth was based around the banished prince turned firelord. maybe you’d find love with someone who saw you as their whole world just like zuko did with mai.

maybe your life would be better.

atla taglist: @draqondance @biqherosix @missmorosis @firelady-jay

zuko taglist: @duh-dobrik

#atla x reader #zuko x reader #prince zuko #atla zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko x y/n #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender x reader #gaang x reader #firelord zuko #zuko x you #fire lord zuko #firelord zuko x reader

106 notes · View notes

kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

duty to the kingdom || choi youngjae

→ summary: one of the things you hated the most was being looked down upon. unfortunately, as a princess, there were plenty of times where one of the royals would treat you as if you hadn’t a thought in that pretty head of yours. you absolutely despised it. imagine your outrage then, when the king picks your betrothed for you one fateful day. even if you rarely defy the king’s orders, this felt like a personal challenge to your independence and free choice. as you fight against your arranged marriage to prince youngjae, you eventually begin to wonder if your hardheadedness and anger are misplaced.

→ pairing: prince!youngjae x princess!reader

→ genre: arranged marriage au, lots of self-reflection and fluff

→ word count: 5.4k

→ warnings: n/a

→ a/n: proud to make my 100th post about youngjae. slightly late birthday fic, but i hope y’all will continue to give him the love he deserves!

✧✧✧✧✧

The royal court is nothing if not prone to gossip. Every day, you’re forced to be in attendance despite every fiber of your being aching to be in bed instead with a good book. Not only would it be far more interesting, but you also wouldn’t have to worry so much about sitting prim and proper in front of the kingdom’s gaggle of royals.

Appearances were everything here.

Sitting beside the king, you chance a glance at him as you give up on following the topic of the current conversation. It feels like it is only yesterday that your father had laughed and played with you in the castle’s rose garden, your mother smiling through the windows as she watched the two of you. But now, his hair is streaked with grey and his face aged with wrinkles. You couldn’t remember the last time you heard his booming laugh; a rarity ever since the queen passed.

“Y/N, there is an important matter I must speak to you about.”

Not expecting him to address you like this, you hurriedly bow your head in acceptance. A soft ‘yes father’ escapes your parted lips, hoping that it does not catch the attention of any court ladies in the vicinity. They were like a fish to water with rumors, so you learned your lesson at an early age not to ever trust them with important issues.

The remainder of the discussion ends on a rather promising note, as the king gathers a lot of promising intel on his supporters’ current situations and his neighboring kingdom’s allegiances. Enduring the mindless chatter of the royal court was most definitely a chore, but it is also essential in maintaining power. The one with the most knowledge will always be one step ahead.

You rise alongside your father, watching as the owners of estates across your kingdom bow in reverence. Even if they were doing this out of fear for your father, and not you, the action motivates you to wield the same authority someday. When you are this kingdom’s ruler, you will not tolerate anything less that what your father achieves.

Following the king out of the throne room, you dismiss a servant as she rushes to follow after you. As she leaves after giving you a deep bow, you begin to feel the tingle of anticipation against your spine. You rarely held private conversations with your father, given how busy he has been managing his duties. The crops did not grow as well as anticipated this year and there have been plenty of potential threats against the kingdom, so to say he had his plate full would be an understatement.

He leads you into his study, and you take some time to briefly examine the bookshelves surrounding the room. Each row is neatly organized based on subject matter, from battle tactics to formal letter writing. There used to be an entire bookcase dedicated to children’s stories when you were young, since you loved hearing your father read to you before bed. You wonder momentarily where those books are now.

Breaking out of your stupor, you notice the king standing with his back facing to you as he observes the palace grounds from the large windows behind his desk. Closing the door behind you with a soft locking sound, you walk forward to stand beside him. The soldiers are making their rounds, following neatly divided paths leading to various areas of the palace. Their march is methodical and focused, and the rhythm is hypnotizing.

“How have you been faring?” the king finally asks, regarding you with his usual gaze.

“Well enough. The tutor has been doing great. He says I am improving very fast,” you note, pulling your eyes away from the window to meet your father’s.

“That is good to hear,” he says before adding, “You will make a great queen.”

The king’s praise is hard to come by, especially as he has grown more demanding of you as time passes. With each year, he expects you to become more informed about your role as a member of the royal family and more mature about your decision-making for the kingdom’s future. You do your best to hide your satisfaction, but it is difficult.

“Thank you, father.”

He makes a noise of affirmation before looking out the window again. You cannot pinpoint exactly what he is observing, so perhaps he is simply seeing something in his mind’s eye. The sigh that follows worries you, wondering if the news he wanted to speak to you about was actually a bad one.

“With every great ruler, is a great partner,” he states simply, and from his melancholy tone you sensed his continued sadness regarding your mother’s early death.

Your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach, you fold your hands and nod.

“I’m sure you are aware of our talks with the closest kingdom to our North. Alongside our treaty agreements to share grain stores and defend each other in the case of invasion, we have also discussed formally uniting outside of a contract.”

The puzzle pieces were slowly snapping together in your head, and the dismay traps itself within your vocal cords. You are afraid to speak, afraid that if you voiced your concerns, it meant that your father had truly used you as a bargaining chip.

“Prince Youngjae will make a good king. I’m sure the two of you will bring about a second Golden Age for our people.”

When you finally say something, the deathly monotonous sound of your words sounds like that of a stranger’s. Amid your disappointment in your father, you have become a stranger to yourself.

“No. I object to this union,” you grit, nails biting into your palm as you struggle to maintain the little power you thought you had. Yelling and crying would just expose your weakness and lose what credibility you had.

“It is not a suggestion, Y/N,” if it were possible for the king to look even more weary than he did earlier, than it surely accurately describes his current state.

“Father you cannot seriously hand me over to a complete stranger. A man I do not know, do not love.”

His silence just angers you further, as you begin to feel increasingly alone. Not only will you never be able to confide in your mother again, but now you have lost your worth to your remaining parent. If he truly wanted what’s best for you, he would not have added you to a bargain like a prized cattle for sale.

“I have done nothing but obey you, your majesty. Do not confine me to a future of unhappiness,” you warn, hoping that your anger masks the fear and hurt you feel at this development.

Instead, the man you once affectionately called father simply barks, “It is a command. The marriage will be held a month from now. I suggest you correct your attitude before then.”

You allow yourself to let the first tear fall when he finally leaves the room, leaving nothing but a swish of his robes and the loud slam of large oak doors.

✧✧✧✧✧

“You’ll sooner see me die than marry that man.”

To your servant’s credit, she does not acknowledge your angry words. Instead, she continues to help you get dressed for the day. While you continue to criticize the king for doing this to you, yourself for being too weak to defend your autonomy, and eventually your betrothed for even daring to be involved, she finally speaks.

“Your highness, you do not know if Prince Youngjae deserves the way you speak of him.”

You hesitate, acknowledging that she did bring up a good point. Arranged marriages in and of themselves are horrendous affairs in your mind, the lack of free will causing you to complete turn your nose up on the idea. The prince could be a decent individual, but he could also be a gruff man with zero awareness of your feelings. If he is anything like the dukes your father entertains daily, you would sooner escape for a life of exile than stay as a sitting duck.

“Perhaps not. But Luce, I’m being commanded to marry a man I’ve never met. Is that not, in and of itself, an injustice?” you inquire, watching as she gets on her knees to smooth out the remaining wrinkles at the hem of your dress.

When she finally stands, dusting off her apron as she does so, she gives you a small curtsy before replying, “Pardon me for my honesty, but there are far worse things in life. Perhaps for a royal, the loss of the ability to choose and make decisions for oneself is a terrible punishment. However, I advise you give the boy a chance. It is in your best interest to make this work.”

“Luce, we’ve grown up together. You’ve been my personal servant since we were both 13. You know that I cannot allow decisions affecting my future to be made for me. I have spent hours studying, confined to books when others play outside on sunny days. Am I not allowed to think for myself for a change, instead of the kingdom?” you want your closest friend to agree with you, if only to reassure you that you had a right to be outraged.

“Born to two of the king’s servants, my purpose is to serve the royal family until I die. Born to Utopia’s king and queen, your purpose is to serve Utopia’s people until your last breath,” Luce finally gives you a small smile as she pins the last gold leaf into your hair, “You will do the right thing. I know it.”

Brushing the wetness appearing in your eyes, she chastises you softly for ruining the makeup she used to try and get rid of the puffiness from yesterday’s bout of crying. You swallow thickly, thanking her for preparing you for the morning before getting ready to meet the king’s entourage for breakfast. When the door to your room opens, Luce returns to her demure position a few feet away from you, looking everything like the perfectly submissive servant castle etiquette instructs her to be.

Breakfast is a sordid ordeal. Stirring your porridge with distaste, you nibble on the freshly baked bread from the kitchens and think about your meeting with Prince Youngjae in a few hours. You originally considered openly refusing to go or disappearing conveniently as soon as you spot his carriage entering the castle walls, but after Luce’s words this morning, you’re forced to reconsider.

Picking apart the remainder of your honey bun, you realize that, regardless of whether this man assigned to you turns out to be decent person or not, you harbored no romantic feelings for him. Marrying him would then become nothing but an obligation, and you would be nothing but a task he completes for the sake of his kingdom. You did not want to share your bed with a stranger for the rest of your years, nor bear his children for the sake of duty. When would your royal duty end and your free will begin? It all seemed terrible.

When breakfast is finally removed and you have no choice but to meet the royals of the neighboring kingdom your father discussed yesterday, you regret eating that pastry. Even though you’d only had a few bites, the anxiety was causing you to grow nauseous.

Maybe if you threw up on the prince’s shoes, he’d cancel the engagement.

Hiding your smile behind a gloved hand, you do your best to keep up with the strong amble of the king before you. Servants bow at the two of you as you pass through the corridor, only continuing their work when they are out of your sight. These people depended on you completely for shelter, safety, and purpose. Luce’s earlier warning rings through your ears, and the heaviness of the responsibility of your birthright feels more stifling today than any other day.

When you enter the throne room, you notice that it looks shinier than it had yesterday. Perhaps for the sake of good first impressions, it was subjected to a thorough cleaning the night before. Your father returns to his seat on the throne, and you allow yourself to imagine yourself on that seat in a few years’ time. Would the throne feel heady with limitless power or cold with loneliness?

The seat you typically had next to the throne has been removed today, so you simply stand next to your father with your hands crossed over your abdomen. As soon as you’ve adjusted your skirts, the guards open the doors and you do your best to maintain the neutral expression on your features—regardless of who steps in through the entrance.

As the trio approaches the throne, they incline their heads in greeting to the king. Acknowledging Elysia’s king and queen, you return their gaze with a deep bow of your own. Pausing for a few long seconds, you finally straighten to immediately regard their son who was standing only a few paces away.

The first thing you notice, albeit with some shame, is that he is very good-looking. His locks are slightly tousled in a stylish way, and are as dark as his eyes that are openly observing you as well. A small smile graces his lips, a lightly pink contrast to the fairness of his skin. Briefly wondering how a man could look so calmly attractive, you only break your unabashed stare when your king speaks.

“Welcome to Utopia. The princess and I hope the travel was without issue,” your father says, giving your future in-laws their due respect.

“Elysia and Utopia have always been close neighbors. Visiting is no trouble to us,” Elysia’s king replies, and even through your first impressions, he seemed to be a kind yet commanding individual.

“We are honored to finally meet Princess Y/N, she is as lovely as they say,” the queen adds, and the way she openly beams reminds you too much of your own mother.

Heart stinging, you whisper, “You are too kind, your highness.”

The remainder of the discussion revolves mainly around the adults in the room, as you begin to feel like a toddler waiting for your parents to stop talking to the other adults. Doing everything you could to avoid looking at Prince Youngjae again, you could feel him taking short peeks at you, and it makes you oddly nervous. You wonder what his first impression of you could be.

As if that mattered. Your ultimate goal was to prevent yourself from being saddled to him.

When the conversation finally ends, you only let the sigh of relief escape when the royal family exits to have a tour of the palace grounds. Your father chuckles at your response, standing to rest a hand on your shoulder before asking, “Was that really so frightening?”

“My duty is cementing our treaty with Elysia. I still do not consent to marriage,” you reply, looking your father in his eyes in direct challenge.

Instead of striking fear into the old man, he simply gives you an amused smile before exiting. You are left standing alone, left behind to consider your next step.

✧✧✧✧✧

Turns out, Prince Youngjae would be staying for the next month within the castle. You wondered whether Elysia was foolishly trusting or rightfully confident in simply leaving their heir in the hands of another kingdom’s rulers. As you head to your room to retire for the night, you hesitate in front of one of the best guestrooms you had to offer. The man you were to wed was inside, miles away from the home he grew up in. You wonder if he is afraid.

Settling in your favorite chair by the fire, the pages of your newest novel feeling crisp against your fingertips, you fail to notice how quickly the night moves. You reckon it is fairly late when you finally finish, setting the book on your table. You used to play chess with your mother on this table. It is well worn with age, but you couldn’t throw anything away that held essences of your time with her.

If she were here, she’d never let this happen.

Stretching out your limbs, you rub your weary eyes and wonder if the kitchen would have leftover slices of the pumpkin pie from dinner earlier. It was extremely well-made tonight, perhaps due to the need to impress, but you only confined yourself to a single slice.

Slipping on a warm shawl, you open your bedroom door slightly to examine the hallway. Empty except for the pale moonlight slipping in from the giant windows, you tiptoe against the marble floors. Even in the middle of the night, you need not see clearly to find your way. You grew up within these walls, each nook and cranny familiar in a way that you knew them like the back of your hand.

You are only a few steps from your heavenly dessert, the creaminess of this year’s pumpkin crop on the tip of your tongue, when someone’s voice stops you in your tracks. Ducking your head around the corner, you notice an unfamiliar figure sitting within a small alcove, looking up at the stars outside the vaulted glass windows.

Draped in shadows and moonlight, he sings a bittersweet song. Even though you didn’t recognize the words, you are transfixed on the intricate melodies that are holding you in place. The singer is talented for sure, given the ease of each delivered note and the sugar hanging on his clear tone. It is like nothing you have ever experienced.

When the tune ends, you’re left with a sense of unexplainable emptiness. You have half the mind to demand an encore when the figure turns his head to acknowledge you for the first time.

“Princess, what are you doing up so late?” Youngjae asks, surprise shining in his eyes as he scrambles to his feet and gives you a bow. His slightly clumsy movements are a bit endearing, as you press your shawl to your mouth to cover the smile underneath.

“Ah, you know…just having a walk,” you grimace, wondering if he’ll judge you if you were telling him you were trying to have a second helping of dessert.

“Interesting choice,” he grins.

You wave him off, hoping he understood that he didn’t need to be so formal with you. He seems to understand your insinuation immediately, because he returns to his spot in the alcove before waving you over. You hesitate, wondering if you wanted to be caught in such a compromising way.

Screw it, you needed to figure out where he learned to sing so damned well.

Tucking your skirts underneath you, you take a look at the beautifully round full moon hanging in the sky before regarding Elysia’s prince for the second time today. If it were possible for someone to look better up close, this man would be the prime candidate. His eyes are shining with stars and kindness, and in his casually neat shirt, he is the epitome of a princely figure.

“What were you singing earlier?” you ask, fiddling with a stray thread on your shawl.

He pauses for a moment, as if wondering whether he should tell you, before he answers, “An Elysian lullaby. My mother used to sing to me as a child. This one was my favorite.”

“It’s beautiful. I don’t speak Elysian but, you sing really well—better than any performer I’ve ever heard,” you admit, hoping you weren’t putting a dent in your plans by complimenting the prince.

His singing ability had to be acknowledged, so you’ll give yourself a pass for now.

He blushes, and the way he shyly laughs is adorable. Your next breath lodges in your lungs as you try your best to stop the sudden increase in heart rate you experience. Maybe you should’ve just gotten your pie and returned to your room.

“Thank you, princess. That’ll be a source of great encouragement for me,” he says, giving you another interesting look before he returns his gaze to the night outside. You wonder if he’s homesick, and you figure that he probably is. As much as you hated having to spend the next month surrounded by the reminder of your impending marriage to a stranger, he probably had his own share of trouble. He was trapped within a foreign land, with no allies to his name. Completely and utterly alone, perhaps the least you could do was make him comfortable. Even if you didn’t love him, that didn’t mean you couldn’t at least treat him respectfully.

“Have you ever performed?” you inquire suddenly, and the suggestion seems to catch him off guard.

“No, it’s unheard of for a royal to perform. That is usually reserved for the court jesters.”

You laugh, imaging the prince in a jester’s costume and telling jokes in front of the royal crowd. It was certainly a funny thought, but you were also slightly disappointed that Prince Youngjae’s singing might never be shared beyond his intimate family. It truly is a tragedy for the world, not to hear such talent.

“Do you want anything from the kitchen? In case you haven’t had enough at dinner, I’m sure there’s plenty of leftovers,” you hint, hoping that he agrees so you can have your planned pastry.

“I’m quite alright princess, thank you.”

You try not to let the disappointment appear on your face, and even though you’re typically very good at hiding your emotions, Youngjae seems to catch on immediately. When he hums in acknowledgement, you hide your face when he asks, “Did you want something princess?”

You shake your head adamantly, “I’m quite alright as well, prince.”

A grin quickly appears on his face, as he teases you further, “Are you sure? I do remember someone finishing their slice of pumpkin pie in less than 10 seconds. Perhaps we should call one of the scribes to commemorate such a prestigious record.”

“Maybe we should call the scribe to commemorate the nosiest royal to be alive this century!” you quip, quickly clapping a hand over your mouth when you realize how disrespectfully you’ve spoken to Prince Youngjae. As you wonder how quickly the man would squeal to his parents, and realizing you could’ve completely ruined Utopia-Elysia relations, the sound of loud hearty laughter saves you from your thoughts.

You had thought someone had caught the two of you, but you quickly realize that the laughter is coming from the prince himself. He holds his stomach in laughter, mouth wide open as his eyes momentarily disappear with each laugh. You watch, completely mesmerized, as pure amusement pours from the boy. He suddenly seemed so much younger, laughing like this.

Beginning to giggle yourself, you quickly pressed your hands to his mouth when you see candlelight flickering in the hallway. Pulling him upright, you dash off to the bedrooms as quickly as you could without making too much noise. You hated to find what rumors would develop if the two of you were found together this late in the evening. To his credit, the prince mirrors your speed and silence all the way to the guest bedroom.

Checking to ensure you weren’t followed, you whip your head back towards him. He’s still hiding his grin behind his hand, and doing a poor job at it, when you glare at him.

“Did you really need to laugh that loudly?” you hiss, but the boy simply looks like he’s about to start laughing again.

You sigh, unable to hide how funny the situation is to you, so you just giggle and dart off with a wave. Pumpkin pie forgotten, when you finally return to the safety of your room, you stay up to stare at your ceiling. Turning over in your sheets, you wonder-- when was the last time you felt that much excitement?

✧✧✧✧✧

The next time you see him, Prince Youngjae is taking a stroll through the palace gardens. Even though the blooms aren’t as spectacular as they are in spring, your mother had chosen equally beautiful flowers that blossomed during the winter. You catch him admiring the cheerful winter jasmines lining each row, framed by snowdrop flowers. Considering whether approaching him would be the right move, you once again throw caution to the wind when Youngjae catches you staring and gives you a small wave.

“Do you have a favorite?” you ask once you’ve walked close enough for him to hear you.

“Not really,” he replies, letting go of the fallen petal in his hand, “It’s enough for me to admire the beauty each one offers.”

“Well said,” you say with a grin.

“We didn’t get your dessert that night. My apologies, princess,” he jokes, and it strikes you then that the prince is a cute but mischievous sort. He appeared to love riling you up, but only as far as you would allow him.

“Not a great first impression,” you admit, letting yourself fully appreciate his laughter now that the two of you were in a more proper environment.

Finding a place to sit and talk further, you allow yourself to acknowledge the truth that you really did enjoy this man’s presence. Even though you were holding onto the notion that you needed to prove that you weren’t just an airheaded princess waiting to be married off, perhaps under different circumstances, Youngjae could’ve been your friend. After all, it wasn’t everyday that you met a royal who wasn’t stuck-up or entitled. It seemed that this prince genuinely appreciates everything life has to offer, and he isn’t afraid of having fun with what he finds.

“Call me Y/N. I think after the trouble we went through, it seems fitting enough,” you say, once the conversation takes a short lull.

“You’ll have to call me Youngjae then,” he adds, and you show your agreement by repeating the new title he offers you. He seems to like the way it sounds on your tongue, because his eyes are aglow with delight.

“Do you miss home?” you ask afterwards, curious to see how your new friend is faring.

“Definitely. No matter how many times I’ve left Elysia, I always miss it with the same fervor,” he admits, and you appreciate the way he opens up to you. It was almost as if he were unafraid of appearances in front of you, and his abrupt honesty was completely foreign to you.

“You leave often then?”

“A few instances. I’ve had to be involved in some skirmishes at our borders recently,” he sighs, and it appears that Youngjae is also not a big fan of warfare. You note that as well, realizing how much you were growing to admire each of the characteristics of this new prince.

“I suppose that’s why all of this is happening…making alliances to appear strong,” you briefly relent, acknowledging that as much as this union would hurt your pride, it had its use. It was not a frivolous decision for either part, which only made your choice that much more difficult to execute.

“If it’s to protect my people, it’s a sacrifice to make,” he agrees, “I apologize that you will not be marrying for love, Y/N, but I promise I’ll do my best to not make it torturous.”

He tacks on a joke at the end to ease the tension, but it doesn’t hide the fact that his words make your heart waver. Youngjae recognizes what you were giving up and he sympathizes with you. Unlike you, however, he was accepting his fate. Even though he doesn’t mention it, you know that he is giving up his free will as well by agreeing to marry you. He would also be closing the door of “what if?” because he cared for the citizens under his protection.

You think back to the servants who never fail to curtsy in your presence, the cooks who always let you have a taste of whatever’s cooking because they didn’t stand a chance to your puppy-dog eyes, and your closest friend Luce who always takes care of you without a complaint. You remember how her worn hands glide across your skin with the finest skincare in the land, just to ensure that your skin stays youthful at the expense of hers. Your heart pounds with pain.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, as you struggle not to cry in front of Youngjae.

He grasps your wrist in confusion, worried eyes seeking yours when he says, “Did I say something wrong?”

You pat the back of his hand and try to smile amidst your guilt. Nodding slowly, you say, “I thought that I deserved to fight against this marriage because without my autonomy, I’d be nothing. But your words, you made me realize that perhaps there are greater things.”

He looks at you with the utmost care and sympathy when he replies, “Agreeing to this doesn’t make you weak, Y/N. You will be the strongest queen Utopia has known because you sacrifice for your people.”

When he hugs you in a much-needed, warm embrace, you don’t stop him.

✧✧✧✧✧

The month passes by in the blink of an eye, and before long, you’ve let Youngjae into your life more than you’d like to admit. The boy made you much more playful, as you began skipping some of your studying to join him in playing outside. He seemed like an energetic individual, always wearing a smile and excited to see you. You did your best to keep your distance, but ever since he opened up to you it almost felt natural to do the same.

The day of the wedding rolls around, and even as Luce and a few other servants help you get dressed for the special occasion; you can’t help but doubt whether you were making the right decision. Of course, there would be worse men to be in an arranged marriage with, but ultimately this was a choice that would stick by your side for the rest of your reign. You shouldn’t tread lightly.

“Luce…” you mumble as soon as the other girls leave to let her braid your hair in an elegant bun in peace.

“Today is a special day in your life your highness…your life and Prince Youngjae’s,” Luce begins, giving you her reassuring smile as she braids silver flowers into your braid.

“I know that, I know this is important for our kingdoms, and yet I feel afraid.”

“Fear is understandable. It’s important to fear because it will push you to act. You are not just making a decision for yourself, but for thousands of people,” she finishes with your locks before finally giving your shaking hands a squeeze, “You have never let us down.”

You give Luce a grateful hug, thankful for her comforting words. When you stand, admiring the long train behind you, the reality of everything begins hitting you all at once. You were marrying Youngjae, the man that recently makes your stomach burst with butterflies and your palms sweaty just from looking at him. You were crazy enough to think that you could eventually love him, and you hoped to the heavens that he considered you in the same way.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I wouldn’t worry,” Luce muses before opening the door as your entourage stands at the ready outside. You would fire back at her to say that you weren’t worried at all, but the sight of the dozen knights standing in full armor to escort you to the grand ballroom is enough to dry your mouth completely.

You knew that the ballroom would be transformed for the wedding, but you didn’t expect the beauty dazzling from the high ceilings. Each corner had a fresh bouquet, the beautiful pastel roses making your eyes widen with wonder. The guests consisted of the royals whom previously paid you no heed, but now are openly observing you with interest. You knew that they now respect your new position, and you would soon have to play palace politics. The dread paled in comparison to the surprise that catches in your throat when you see the groom standing at the altar.

Youngjae is dressed in a standard princely attire, but the sparkling crown atop his head and the big grin on his face make all the difference. Seeing him standing ahead of you, waiting for you to be by his side, force you to reconcile with your feelings once again. You were falling for him, from the moment he sang you his favorite song and laughed without a care in the world, you were smitten. He not only acknowledged your fears but reassured you through them, and for that, he was more than deserving to rule alongside you.

“Ready?” he whispers after receiving your hand from your father.

With one look at his deep brown eyes swirling with affection, you announce proudly, “I’m ready.”

✧

63 notes · View notes

altumvidetur · 4 years

Text

Kaishin Fic Recs

Previously: Haikyuu!! Fic Recs

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I’ve decided to split it in a series of posts, and, well, when it comes to DCMK, I have one major OTP. So here’s enough Kaishin to keep you entertained for a year:

The Dwelling Night, by proser132

Three shot. KaiShin. Brief moments were all they had, but dwelling on dreams is sometimes enough.

In Theory, by orphan_account

Kaito's got a whole list of cheesy and awful pickup lines to use on Shinichi.

(Un)fortunately for him, Shinichi's got just as many to throw back.

As You Wish, by orphan_account

Shinichi hasn't been doing a very good job of pretending he isn't hiding something from Kaito, and Kaito is more than determined to find out what it is -- even if it means asking everyone the detective knows in order to do so.

He just wants to know what all the boxes are for.

you’re the reason i come home, by LunaDarkside

Shinichi comes home after a two-week investigation in New York. Kaito could not be more thrilled.

Lovesick, by DragonSorceress22

"You know what I want? I want a fic where Kaito sends out a heist notice but then he gets sick but he can't NOT go. I guess it could go the other way too, where Conan solves a heist notice but then he gets sick but he can't NOT go. I want to read that fic." "There's tons of fics like that..." And now there's one more.

whispers and nicks and all these tricks, by LunaDarkside

In which there is sex pollen at a heist, and Kaito and Shinichi end up in the same room. Coincidentally enough.

Be Real, by DragonSorceress22

This, KID thought, was what someone reaching their limit looked like.

a study in scarlette, by kittebasu

There are people who want to live forever, and then there is Shinichi, who just wants to live a little longer than this.

wait a minute (so you’re not just losing the dress), by LunaDarkside

Everything is overwhelmingly good. And then Kaito has to go and say it.

“I’ve never done this before,” he mumbles mindlessly against the pliant softness of Shinichi’s lips, and everything immediately stops.

“Wait, what?” Shinichi jerks upwards, eyes wide.

Or, neither Shinichi nor Kaito has any experience, but they make do.

The printer’s a lie, by OrphanText

In which Kuroba has an annoying printer, a very good looking (and mildly terrifying) RA, and general bad ideas up his sleeves (but it works out in the end).

The Alcohol Test, by DragonSorceress22

When your rival-turned-best-friend is a phantom thief who has recently reached legal drinking age, there’s really only one responsible way to approach the matter. Spreadsheets.

Getting Off Track, by solomonara

The easiest way to find out what someone wants is to ask them, so of course neither Shinichi nor Kaito KID is going to do that. (OR: In which Shinichi and Kaito KID take turns falling into each other's arms.)

Wouldn’t Change A Thing, by BlackKatJinx

“Don't you get tired of it?”

“'It'?” He asks.

“Stealing.”

By Any Other Name, by AngelicSentinel

the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you hear them say your name.

Snowed In, by DragonSorceress22

Shinichi and Kaito are exceptionally bad at quiet nights at home.

Go Out With a Bang (Since We’re to Wilt Anyway), by KXL

Love can be cruel, and painful, but Kaito knew that already. Maybe he's just a masochist.

take in another breath (get closer), by Melomaniac

He paused on the threshold of the door between the pseudo-corridor and the seating area, and faintly corrected himself. Not as alone as he thought. Not as alone at all.

Sat by himself, with his chin resting on his hand, an arm loosely propped on the small table, an explosion of paper and assorted important looking documents in front of him, flask of (presumably) coffee held to his lips, was Kudou Shinichi, whose eyes had met Kaito’s when he walked into the carriage, had widened, and hadn’t looked away since.

In which there is a late night (or an early morning), a train, copious amounts of flirting, a phone, a name, and a stolen heart.

Last Day Again, by Phantoms_Echo

(Summary by me: Groundhog Day!AU with Kaito becoming more and more unhinged as he desperately tries to break the time loop he’s stuck in.)

Net Force, by LunaDarkside

Ran decides it's high time for Shinichi and Kaito to get together. Awkward matchmaking ensues.

Of Corset Hurts, by KXL

Shinichi and Kaito are both pretty much done with the situation, though for somewhat different reasons. Both reasons involve overly long dresses to some degree.

Ace up Their Sleeves, by Procrastination_Sensation

Summary by me: Soulmates!AU in which seeing your soulmark in someone else (your soulmate) causes debilitating pain until the two of you kiss.

Murder by Cremation, by KXL

Capturing the lawless monsters who ate people after burning them up was, apparently, the easy part.

Halloween Heist, by Phantoms_Echo

Because Halloween Scavenger Hunt doesn't sound as nice.

Trick or Treat, Tantei-kun! Up for a little Halloween game? I’ve left clues all over town. Find them all, you’ll get a treat. Fail to find them in time, you’ll get a trick. Good luck, Tantei-kun. -Kaitou KID

the suffering of fools, by AngelicSentinel

It's Las Vegas; the lights are bright, the liquor is flowing, and Ran married someone other than Shinichi. He just wants to drown his sorrows, but a half-familiar face steals his drink.

♠ ♦ ♣ ♥ Case Files, by AngelicSentinel

Solving life's little mysteries, one at a time.

one-shots in the suffering of fools universe

A Study in Trust, by Calculatrice

Conan swallows anger and condemnation and, for the very first time, gives Kaitou KID the benefit of the doubt. ________________

In which Conan constantly has to revise what he thinks of a certain thief, and is frankly getting pretty sick of feeling like his subconscious is already ahead of him.

Jacket, by Calculatrice

He turns to look at KID, grimacing as his overlong sleeves swish around him.

“It doesn’t exactly fit me,” he frowns as he points out the obvious. “Does this do anything for you?”

Kiss and tell., by DragonSorceress22

Shinichi might have gotten a little ahead of himself. And KID. Luckily, Hakuba has a level head and a soft spot for lovesick genius-idiots.

the goat one-shot, by helloimtrash

They're family now.

Interrogation, by Calculatrice

Admittedly, there are many things Kaito could probably be blamed for, but pulling Shinichi into the nearest empty hallway to kiss him senseless isn’t one of them.

So It Goes, by Calculatrice

It goes like this.

(In which Murphy’s Law isn’t much of a law - more something to be gleefully stomped on.)

Mii Plaza, by Calculatrice and helloimtrash

“Okay,” Kaito grins as the opening notes of Wii Sports ring out. “Are you ready for defeat?”

“Can’t we just play Mario Kart,” Shinichi frowns, crossing his legs as he watches Kaito push the coffee table out of the way. “It’s like, one in the morning.”

The Forensics of Falling, by LunaDarkside

[FF.Net Link] When fans of world-famous magician and actor Kuroba Kaito begin turning up dead, Inspector Kudou Shinichi is put on the case.

the toxicology of trust, by LunaDarkside

World-famous magician and actor Kuroba Kaito and the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force's star inspector Kudou Shinichi finally get some much-needed time off. Or they would, if there wasn't a killer on their cruise.

(sequel to The Forensics of Falling)

On Familiarity, by lastdream

No one had ever known Kaito quite like Shinichi did, and Kaito wasn't sure he could take it.

Lies and the Art of Relaxation, by DragonSorceress22

Shinichi is stressed and Kaito is a liar. Business as usual.

And Again, by Calculatrice

It’s late, late in the night, and while on another night they may have been awake and neck-deep in plans, or perhaps delirious and making silly conversation, tonight he and Kaito are both curled in bed.

the only bed worth sleeping, by LunaDarkside

Kaito's not a detective, but he's pretty sure there's no logical explanation for Shinichi's disappearance from his apartment. Or for the cat that's shown up in his kitchen.

Magic Eight Ball, by Rikkamaru

Shinichi chases Kaitou Kid into the Blue Parrot thinking he's injured.

(For the Kaishin Discord, which made a "challenge" that a few people took up.)

swing for the fences, by LunaDarkside

"How to Fall in Love with Kudou Shinichi (Featuring Pink Panties, Dead Bodies, and Ill-Advised Bets): A Comprehensive and Kind of Embarrassing Guide" by Kuroba Kaito.

In The Soul, by Calculatrice

Shinichi ferries souls from the shores of the living to those of the dead, so they may pass safely on to an eternal afterlife. It’s really not a difficult concept, and definitely not one he thought could be wilfully ignored, but Kuroba Kaito obviously didn’t get the memo.

even miracles, by LunaDarkside

“No, Mother,” Shinichi says pleasantly. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to host a dinner party to find me a wife.”

bros before, by LunaDarkside

Shinichi needs a fake date for his parents' vow renewal ceremony. Naturally, he asks his best friend, Hattori.

maybe I was going too fast, by Ann1215

A year after Kaito faces off Conan, who'd figured out his identity, he comes across Kudou Shinichi during their first year of university.

Trouble is, Kudou has no idea who Kaito is.

swear i’ll never leave again, by Ann1215

When Kaito eventually grows tired of his mother's relentless matchmaking tendencies, he ropes Shinichi into tricking everyone they know and love that they're both engaged. To each other. And it's easy enough, because all they have to do is:

1. Don't lie to each other. 2. Don't tell anyone about their plan. 3. Don't fall in love with each other.

At least, it was supposed to be easy.

(See you) Next Illusion!, by PhantomsEcho

Collections of Oneshots too long to fit in Next Conan Hint.

beneath a waxing moon, by kittebasu

The man stares at him, and then shakes his head, messy hair shaking with it. “Car trouble, Detective?” The way his lips curl around the word ‘detective’ strikes Shinichi as strange, eerily familiar, and Shinichi almost has to physically shake the feeling away before he can reply.

“Engine’s making a weird noise,” Shinichi says, and then his thoughts catch up with alacrity, his muscles tensing all at once. “What makes you think I’m a detective?”

“Police tags on your car,” the man replies, grin growing wider. “Plus this is a Camry from the nineties. No one drives those but police, these days, and regular officers drive patrol cars.” He leans forward a little, gloved hands circling his helmet and lowering it slightly to his handlebars for extra balance. “Far from undercover, if you know what you’re looking for.”

The cloud cover shifts, revealing the gorgeous full moon, and the light catches the man just right, surrounding him in a pearly glow and putting his face in shadow. “And you know what you’re looking for?”

broken glass, by jadedgalaxies

KID presses Shinichi into the wall, covering his mouth with a gloved hand and shushing him quietly. Shinichi’s heart thrums. KID isn’t looking at him but every part of KID that is pressed against Shinichi is electrified. Even amidst the circumstances that led to this moment, KID’s heartbeat is steady under Shinichi’s trembling fingers. His hair tickles Shinichi’s nose, his scent sweet and overpowering. KID is warm, alive, thrilling. Shinichi’s face warms.

In this moment, beneath the pale moonlight, helping KID evade arrest, detective Kudou Shinichi realizes he’s in love with the Phantom Thief, Kaitou KID. And he probably has been for a long time.

Shinichi realizes he's in love with Kaitou KID and that's just the beginning.

Owned and Never More Free, by Curry Jolokia

Kaitou Kid is uncatchable. Except for this.

about a love that glows, by LunaDarkside

The good news is that it’s not an overt time limit on his life, and it’s not anything parasitic. It’s not a life-force drainer, or a bad luck charm, or a magnet for unfortunate circumstances. It’s not going to bother him in day-to-day life.

The bad news is that if Shinichi falls in love with someone, he’ll die. And they’ll die.

(There is no good news, really.)

the empty vault of night, by AngelicSentinel

Shinichi offers Kid a gift. For a price.

Sound of Silence, by Cesela

His return to being Kudou Shinichi was not everything he had hoped for, not with Ran moving on, a limp and a shattered soul as he struggles with the return to normalcy. And then there’s the neighbour with a soft smile slowly battering down his walls. Kaishin / Shinkai

A Case Closed Carol, by solomonara

With apologies to Charles Dickens. Shinichi is working way too hard and has zero time for Christmas or anything else, really. But a rather unlikely source is about to put him back on track...

where villains spend the weekend, by aishiteita

A former teen sleuth enlists a should-be-retired-thief's help to slap ennui in the face.

(Alternatively, a study in motives.)

always ends in a hazy shower scene, by LunaDarkside

Shinichi didn’t mean to shack up with an internationally wanted thief.

#fic recs #detective conan #magic kaito #dcmk #kaishin #kuroba kaito #kudou shinichi #please warn me if any links are broken #and reblog it if you can so more people will see it

136 notes · View notes

siriuslyshewrote · 5 years

Text

Wrong Part Seven

Series Masterlist

Please make sure to like and reblog if you enjoy - it motivates me to make more content :)

“I’ll pick you up in the morning. Nine?” His calloused and scarred hands stroked your face gently, your foreheads almost touching, his eyes scanning your own. You both stood at the end of the street where you lived, you being determined to sneak in before your parents realised you had left.

“You can make a doctors appointment for then?”

“I’m a fucking Shelby, ain’t I?”

“How could I forget?” You laughed softly, kissing his grinning lips.

————————————————————

24th December, 1926

You stood in front of the hallway mirror, perfecting the rouge lipstick painted onto your lips, a small, nervous smile taking place there. A shawl covered your torso - looking perfectly normal, not like you were trying to hide anything. It was the bleak midwinter, after all.

You could hear the rest of your family arguing upstairs - George , in his hungover state, blaming your parents for something or other. Your head pounded in pain - this had been going on for hours now- as you glanced up the stairs, hand grasping the door handle, twisting it as quietly as possible, and slipped out into the street.

The cold, exhilarating air hit you, as you hurried up the lane - already seeing the boy you loved, leaning against a car which was most certainly stolen from one of his family members, a worried grin on his face, exhaling smoke.

“Hey.” You smiled, kissing his cheek. You didn’t care that your family could very well see this if they looked out of the window. That all seemed so inconsequential now.

“Stealin’ cars again, Finnegan?” You joked, as he opened the door for you to clamber in, his hand supporting the small of your back - as if he was terrified you would fall.

“It’s not stealing if they don’t know it’s gone yet.”

“You really have no concept of stealing, do you?” You giggled, as he started the engine, turning onto the main road.

“Pol won’t notice love, it’s alright.” Fin had told you a lot about his Aunt - the woman who had raised him, and if things were different, you would have been close, he had told you. You were both as blunt as each other. You supposed she really wouldn’t notice now - according to Finn, she had changed after the gallows. The whole family had. Even him.

“So. Did you manage to get an appointment?”

“Course. It’s only like three minutes away.”

“We could have walked!” You protested laughingly.

“Not in your condition-“ He looked at you worriedly.

Your heart melted at that - at this caring boy in front of you , who was so soft and so sweet despite what he had grown up around.

“You daft idiot.” You smiled, but you laced your fingers through his, as he brought the car to a stop outside a rather posh looking building.

He made no move to get out of the car, and you looked at him, confused.

“Finn-“

“I’m scared.” He said quietly, looking down in his lap, hands fidgety.

You swallowed thickly, waiting for him to continue like you knew he would.

“I... what the fuck have I gotten you stuck into ? You’ll hate this fucking life... and our fucking kid, if we even have one, they’ll be stuck here for fucking ever!” He was angry, his head leaning against the metal wheel, words punctuated with swears you knew he usually tried to tone down around you.

“Finn...”

“Shelby’s dangerous fuckin name. And here I am - I’m sticking two innocent people with it. Draggin’ you down with me.” His voice cracked, as your eyes welled with tears - not in fear, in pain for him. You couldn’t truly empathise with what he was going through - could you ever? His life was so different to yours.

“I’m not scared, Finn.” Your fingers stroked his tense back, your voice soothing, soft.

“Yeah, well, you should be. I haven’t told you the half of what goes on... and now you don’t know everything before I’ve dragged you down.”

“Why do you keep saying you’ve dragged me down, Finn? Like I’m on some superior fucking level? Without you, I don’t know where I’d be. How could I have coped the last two years without you? I choose you. And whatever comes with you, I will accept, because I love you. So. Fucking. Much.” You spoke strongly, fingers tilting his chin so he could look in your eyes, know you were telling the truth.

“I love you too.” He spoke hoarsely, his eyes still unsure.

————————————————————

Your legs swung over the side of the doctors bed, the harsh smell of chemicals tickling your nose, making you feel even more nauseous. You glanced over to Finn, as the doctor scribbled something down. His face was pale, but his eyes met yours, and he pushed his normal grin onto his face. For you.

“Well, Mrs Shelby-“ The doctor turned around, giving a worried glance towards Finn - probably hoping he’d said the right name. He hadn’t - but neither of you corrected it. It was fine by you if he thought you were married. Then the shame you already felt wouldn’t intensify.

“It would appear, from what you’ve told me, that you are in the Second Trimester of pregnancy.”

You swallowed - so, it was definite, a tiny baby was growing inside of you - and your hand automatically started to cradle the bump jutting from in between your hips.

“How many months?” Finn inputted, clearly confused by the use of medical terms, which, to be honest, you were too.

You glanced at him - but for the first time, you couldn’t figure out how he felt. If you were truly honest, you didn’t know how you felt either.

“I’d say perhaps late four months, early five.”

“Five?” You furrowed your brows, in complete shock. That was so far along. “But - the bump isn’t that big - surely.”

“You will have been slowly putting on weight so I doubt either of you will have noticed. And I’m assuming you don’t track your periods?”

You bit your lip, nodding.

“Asides from that, from what I can tell, you are naturally rather slim, and still in that lanky teenager phase , so it won’t look the same as another woman’s pregnancy.”

The word teenager met your ears with force , and you were hit with the rememberance that you were only still seventeen, Finn too, he turning eighteen in a few weeks.

————————————————————

“And Mrs Shelby?” The doctor called you back, just as you and Finn were about to leave, the latter with his arm wound around your hip.

“Yes?”

“I’d... very heavily advise to not try to do anything that... may stop this pregnancy, with how far along you are.”

You felt Finn tense.

“So you think just because we’re a bit fucking younger that we’re just going to... you think I’m putting my fucking wife in danger with one of those back street abortionists?” Finn spat, absolutely furious.

“Finn.” You hissed, before sending the doctor a half, apologetic smile.

“Thanks doc, see you in a couple months, I guess?”

He nodded ascent, face pale, and you wondered truly how anyone could be intimidated by the boy next to you.

As you were walking out of the building - in silence - your heart warmed a little at how Finn had called you his wife, though it was incorrect. At how happy it made you feel.

- @audioshoes

- @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy

- @pacifythepanda

- @starscantshinewithoutdarknessx

- @covenforlilfangirl

- @wnygirl2012

- @misunderstood-sinner

- @bellarkebxtch

- @cthgee

- @meteora-fc

- @joebob15274

337 notes · View notes

misssunflowersandsangria · 4 years

Text

This is my Idea

Chapter 2: Marriage

Hello, deers! Welcome back. Happy @shikatemaweek Day 2! Wow, can I just say how many talented and supportive people there are in this community!! Gold Stars everyone! Thank you for all your time and efforts!

Here’s the next chapter for my story. There’s a time jump from the first one. You can have a cute montage in your head about them spending the last few Summers together. Mama Nara makes an appearance (that’s always fun) This is where the fun, fluffy stuff really begins. :D

Prompt: Marriage

Ages:

Shika: 17

Tem: 19

Summary: It’s time for a wedding!

Temari stared at her reflection in the mirror for a final glance over. This was now the fifth Summer that she’d spent in Konoha. It was her first visit there without her father. The last few years they made the journey there together then he would return to Suna before her. She was hesitant to be alone at first but she’d learned her role well and conducting her work independently suited her. She enjoyed her work as the ambassador. It was important and she’d do everything that she could to ensure peace remained.

Temari grew to love her visits and the Village Hidden in the Leaves had become like a second home to her. The small room that she kept while in the village was now filled with various knick-knacks and photos. Snapshots of warm summer days with people she at one time would have never considered being friends with. Her favorite photo was one of her and Shikamaru during their very first year together in a frame by her bed. They were so young back then. Pushed into a situation that they both hated. How times and relationships had changed.

The person that greeted her at the gates this year wasn’t the same boy. She saw hints of that familiar smirk and lazy stance but he was all of 17 now. An important member of the village, a Jonin, and adviser to the Hokage. His rank could have easily gotten him out of his assignment as her guide but she was thankful that for at least another year they had gone through the season together. A part of her hoped that he wanted to keep that role too.

They had gotten into the habit of writing to one another. They worked hard to stay in touch and knew about each other’s lives. So that when she arrived each Summer it was like nothing had changed. Their Summer together had been just like the rest. Days filled with work but with Shogi and cloud watching sprinkled in between. Quick lunch breaks together when they could. Sunset walks and stargazing on warm nights. Late evenings that turned into early mornings when they were with their friends. It was all so familiar and wonderful that it passed in a blink of an eye and it was just about time for her to return to Suna. This year though his parents insisted that she attend the wedding of one of the Nara clansmen as Shikamaru’s date. Despite their flustered expressions and protests Yoshino was relentless and waved off any of their complaints. So here she was. After hearing a knock on the door she looked at herself once more ready for where the night took them.

Temari smiled seeing Shikamaru dressed up in a dark suit. His hair was down which was a tradition when one of their clansmen got married. She secretly loved it when it was out of its usual style. He looked much more mature and handsome than she was used to. It was a stark reminder that he’d grown up.

“You clean up nicely Nara.” She complimented him adjusting his tie.

He tried to not make his stare obvious but it would be impossible to deny how stunning she looked. Her hair was down which was an intentional move to match his own. In all their Summers together he’d only seen it down a few times. Each time left him a little off-centered.

“Thanks, Temari. You uhm you look beautiful.” She grinned at the soft blush but decided not to say anything. She’d grown up as well and it would have been absurd for him to not notice.

“Let’s go.” He offered his arm excited for their night ahead.

“Temari you look, gorgeous sweetheart. Thank you for coming. It's such an honor for you to be here.” Yoshino greeted her, gathering her into a tight hug.

Temari held her for a moment before replying. “I’m happy to be here. It’s been wonderful so far.” The ceremony had been incredibly sweet and touching and she held onto Shikamaru's hand the entire time.

“Good! If my son does anything you don’t approve of, come find me.” She warned Shikamaru with a glare.

“You’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay kids, have fun.” She waved off to go socialize with more of her friends.

“It’s kind of a drag that my mom likes you more than me,” Shikamaru whined, handing her a drink.

“What can I say? We get each other.”

“Because you’re both nags.” He mumbled.

“That’s one.”

“Fine, sorry. Apparently it’s a thing though Naras can only marry let’s say ‘determined’ partners. We’re geniuses but we wouldn’t get anything done without them.”

Temari grinned at the admission before taking a drink. “We’ve spent a lot of time together. You may be super smart but left to your own devices you wouldn’t make it a week.”

“You’re probably right. Thanks again for coming Tem. It means a lot.”

Temari looked out at the sea of people, the warmth and love present. Life as a Shinobi could be so difficult so any chance they had to celebrate life should be taken.

She knew that it was a bit unprecedented. She wasn‘t part of the clan, not even the village, but she was welcomed with open arms. With all the time she’d spent in the village over the years, the Naras were her second family. Since the beginning, they recognized and embraced her as if she was one of their own.

She rested her head on his shoulder a little overwhelmed by emotion. “I appreciated the invite.”

“I don’t dance.”

“I know, but I do. Come on.” She dragged him to the dance floor not giving him a chance to complain.

“Loosen up, you look so awkward. Here.” She placed his hands on her waist so that her hands could go around his neck. She felt his skin flush beneath her fingertips. They swayed slowly side to side.

“It’s weird looking up at you.”

He laughed remembering that moment when he had finally grown taller than her. Teal eyes that now looked up towards him. “Thank God for that growth spurt.”

“So do you think that you’ll ever get married and have an event like this?”

He sighed with a nod. “It’s a drag but probably. I’ll be clan leader and all once my dad retires.”

That wouldn’t be too long from now. Eventually, he would have to give up his role as her guide, even now it wasn’t completely necessary for him to escort her around. “That’s true. I guess just uhm make sure you invite me to the wedding.” She shrugged trying to keep a teasing tone in her voice.

A warm hand came up to brush a soft lock of hair from her eyes. “Of course.”

The music changed to a more upbeat song and as she tried to pull away he wordlessly pulled her back in. Keeping their same slow rhythm. He wasn’t quite ready to let her go just yet. The look in her eyes told him the same.

The silence between them felt heavy so he tried to break it. “Are you ready to go back to Suna next week?”

“Yes, I miss my family so it will be nice.”

“Did you have a good time this year Princess?” He asked curiously.

“I’d say so.”

She rested her head against him to avoid his gaze nuzzling into his chest. He was so warm and she felt herself becoming drunk from his familiar smell of pine trees and smoke. “ I’ll miss you okay.”

He was surprised by the admission but nodded. Their goodbyes were becoming more difficult.

“I’ll miss you too Tem. Hey, maybe I can go out to Suna for a few days? You’re always telling me about places and things to do there. It could be fun.” He knew that it probably wasn’t possible. He’d return to his regular missions once she was gone but it was nice to dream.

She nodded knowing that it was just a nice thought. “Sure, I’d like that.”

They remained there swaying back and forth to the rhythm of their own hearts.

Once they finally took a seat Yoshino quickly swept in demanding a dance with her son. Temari just laughed at his horrified expression and told him to enjoy it while she got a drink.

“Temari looks incredible tonight doesn't she?” Yoshino asked with a grin. He knew that look all too well.

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Come on now. Your father and I have always thought that you two would make a fine couple. Can you imagine, an actual Princess being part of our clan. She is such a wonderful girl, she’d make an incredible matriarch.”

He rolled his eyes not the least bit surprised. She’d been arguing the same point for years now. “Mom, seriously, not this again. I have to escort her around, it’s a mission I've been assigned to. That’s it.”

Yoshino shook her head. “Don’t give me that excuse. We both know that the Hokage offered to assign another Shinobi for her detail and you shot it down. It’s okay son. I’m just saying that not everyone is lucky enough to find their soulmate. You are very smart, wouldn’t it be foolish to let her go.”

He looked over to where she was talking and laughing with his other clansmen as though she’d always been a part of their family. He knew that something between them had changed but neither of them was ready to face that new reality just yet. Besides, she was leaving for Suna in just a few days. Temari caught his eyes from across the room and smiled back at him forcing one to cross his lips. Maybe by next summer, he’d have some clarity.

This is my Idea

Chapter 1: Trust

Chapter 2: Marriage

Thanks for reading. <3 you all and I’ll see you tomorrow!

#shikatemaweek #shikatemaweek2020 #shikatema #shikatem #shikamaru x temari #fanfic #day 2 #marriage

15 notes · View notes

desiraypark · 4 years

Text

When the Sun Sleeps in Canto Bight [4]

Previous Entire Work CHAPTER PLAYERS Ruby Girard, The Beautiful Singer Crystal Canon, Ruby’s roommate Kylo Ren, Leader of the Knights of Ren Vicrul “Vic” Arden, Senior Knights of Ren member/Kylo’s mentor Matilda “Tillie” Arden, Vic’s wife/former nurse Evin Chauntaine, leader/pianist of the Galaxy Syncopators Flora Chauntaine, Evin’s wife

CHAPTER CONTENT Plot-building; backstory; blood; language; little “lovers quarrel” or spat. Word Count: 1,764

“You’re home early,” Crystal said, sitting by the radio and drinking a cocktail in her robe. Ruby walked into the apartment and forced a smile. “Yeah, tonight was a little hectic.” Ruby plopped on the sofa with Crystal. “What’s that?” Crystal held her glass out to her. “Try it.” Ruby grabbed the glass, took a sip and nodded. Something with gin. Then she handed it back. Crystal’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Ruby’s hand, stained with blood. “What the hell happened?” she asked. Ruby sighed and melted into the old, stiff sofa that was there when Crystal had moved in with her ex-husband ten years ago.

“So, the Lieutenant was fooling with me again, tonight…” “They haven’t thrown him out on his ass yet?” Crystal asked. “Chile, they’re always throwing him and out and he always strolls back in. But anyway, he started doing his usual thing. This time he put his arm around me...”

“Oh, no...” “And Kylo ended up beating him something terrible.”

Crystal’s eyebrow raised. “Kylo, huh?”

Ruby snapped her fingers. “Shit, I forgot my flowers. But yeah, Kylo. Poe put him out, and me and Kylo had a couple of drinks. Then, we left. We stepped outside and The Lieutenant came out of nowhere and cut him.” “What?!” “Yeah.” “Is he alright? Kylo?” “Yeah, I think he’s alright. He drove me home. Dripping with blood, though...” Worry flashed across Ruby’s face, and Crystal stared for a bit. Then, she took a sip of her drink. “I’ve heard some things about him, Ruby. Kylo…” “Like what?” Ruby asked, putting her feet up on the sofa, bringing her knees close to her chin. “I’ve heard that he’s just…he’s just violent, Ruby. He was dishonorably discharged from the military for fighting. He’s notorious for getting into bar fights. I guess tonight was fight number two hundred, perhaps? I’ve even heard that he tried to kill his father…” “How do you know all of this?” Ruby asked. “I’ve asked a few questions…” “Of course, you did,” Ruby said. She rolled her eyes and got up from the sofa. She started to her bedroom. “His own parents don’t want anything to do with him,” Crystal added. “Well, damn—how many people did you ask?” Ruby stopped and asked. “I didn’t have to ask many, Ruby. Apparently, he has a pretty nasty reputation. He’s a member of the Knights of Ren.” ”What are the Knights of Ren?” ”A gang, Ruby. They own bars and nightclubs, apparently. They make their money off of alcohol; women--the usual stuff.” Ruby stared at Crystal and sighed. “I’m not about to marry the guy. I barely know him. Besides, he’s been nothing but nice to me...” Crystal shrugged. “Isn’t that usually how it goes, Ruby?”

Before Ruby could respond, Crystal threw her hands up in surrender. “Look, you’re an adult. It’s your life. I just...I just want you to be careful.”

Ruby nodded and went into her bedroom. She closed the door and let everything crash around her. More bar fights? He tried to kill his father?! Daddy and mommy issues? ********************

“Fucking hell, Kylo…” Vic said, walking into the house with his bloody faced child boss towering over him. “Tillie?!” Vic dragged him to the kitchen. “Tillie?!” he called again. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’…” Tillie said. Vic’s wife slid through the kitchen in her robe. Her eyes widened at the sight of Kylo’s bloody face. “Stars. I’ll go get my kit…” She disappeared and Kylo leaned back in the chair, taking in a deep breath. “Kid. I’m starting to second guess Ren’s wishes every day, now,” Vic said shaking his head. Kylo groaned through a chuckle. “It’s nothing.” Tillie returned with a small medical kit and looked Kylo’s face over. “You’re probably going to need stitches, Kylo. That’s the kind of job that’s better done at a hospital...” Kylo groaned again. “You can’t do stitches, Mrs. A?” “I can, but I don’t have a proper numbing agent,” she answered, putting her fists on her hips. Kylo shook his head. “I don’t need no numbin’ agent.” Tillie looked at Vic, and Vic shrugged. She scoffed and opened her kit. “I’ll never understand you fellas’ dislike of hospitals.” She walked out of the kitchen again. “How the fuck did this happen, Kylo?” Vic asked. “Just a little fight, that’s all. Some drunk old man.” Vic’s eyes widened. “An old man?!” “Not old old—like your age.” “Well, thanks.” Kylo chucked and rested his head on the table. Vic grabbed his hair and lifted his head back up. “You tryin’ to ruin my wife’s fine place mats, the hell’s wrong with you?” Tillie came back in with a couple of wash clothes. She went to the sink and wet one with warm water, and wiped Kylo’s cheek. “Is this old man going to be a problem for us?” Vic asked. “Yeah…if he keeps fuckin’ with my girl,” Kylo said. He closed his eyes and felt the dabs against his face stopped. His eyes popped open and Vic and Tillie were both staring at him—Vic with raised eyebrows and Tillie with a smirk. “Ahh, so that’s what this is about?” Vic said. He grinned. Tillie continued to wipe and smiled. “Well, it’s about time. My Kylo dear has a girlfriend, huh?” “Who is she?” Vic asked. He smacked Kylo’s shoulder. “Well. She ain’t my girl, yet. I’m workin’ on it.” “She must be pretty special for you to be sitting here with a bloody face…” Tillie said. “Girl or no girl,” Vic chimed in. “You need to be more careful, Kylo. You’ve already got a reputation. People are gonna think you’re a loose cannon and won’t want to work with us anymore.” “Well, that ain’t gonna happen,” Kylo said assuredly. He closed his eyes again. Vic stared at Kylo’s rested face—his own eyes filled with worry. Tillie looked at him and forced a smile. “You need me to do anything, Love?” Vic asked. “Toss this in the laundry,” Tillie said holding up the bloodied washcloth. “And wash your hands after. I’ll need your help when I start stitching Mr. Iron Cheek here.” ********************

Kylo was walking up to Ruby’s building when a voice shouted in his direction. He turned to see Evin Chauntaine in the driver’s seat of car. A pretty woman was in the passenger’s seat. Kylo raised his eyebrow suspiciously. “Yeah?” “My name is Evin. I sing at the Galaxy,” he said. “This is my wife, Flora.” Kylo stepped closer to the car, eyebrow still raised. “Nice to meet you.” “I just wanted to take thank you for what you did for Ruby, man. The old man’s always trying to flirt with her but he ain’t never put his hands on her before,” Evin said. Kylo’s face softened, then his eyebrows furrowed. “Why ain’t nobody ever put his ass out?” “They always do. But he always comes back. But I guess it just doesn’t look good for business to throw a vet out on his ass.” “Hmm. Fuck that,” Kylo mumbled.

Ruby came out of the building in just a simple pink dress and white shoes—no makeup--or not a lot of it, anyway. And she was still fucking stunner. She slowed her walk when she noticed Kylo. “Hey…” she said softly, a little surprise in her voice. She looked at his cheek and the strip of black thread going down it. “Hey. I was just comin’ to check on you.” “Check on me?” Ruby asked. “Yeah.” “Well, I’m fine. Thanks.” Ruby smiled and grabbed the car door. Kylo frowned. “I’ll see you around,” she said climbing in. “Nah, nah, nah…” Kylo said. He grabbed the door before Ruby could close it, then dipped his head in front of the passenger window. “You in a rush?” “No.” “Yes.” Ruby pursed her lips at Evin. “Uh...we don’t wanna run into traffic...” Evin said, attempting to fix his error. Kylo moved his head in Ruby’s direction. “What’s the matter with you?” Ruby rolled her eyes and climbed out of the car. Then, she gestured for Kylo to follow her down the sidewalk. He did, and they stopped some yards away from Evin’s car. Suddenly, Evin’s engine turned off. “I’m just going to come right out and say it. I’ve heard some unsavory things about you,” Ruby said. Kylo rolled his eyes. “And?” “I don’t think I like what I’ve heard…” Kylo scoffed. “Babydoll, you ain’t no fool. I think you know what I do for a livin’.” Ruby folded her arms and chewed on the inside of her mouth. Kylo smirked. “Look at you, pretendin’ to be all sad and hurt. Sure, people think I’m a fuckin’ asshole. I ever been an asshole to you?” “You haven’t been one to me, but I watched you beat up an old man. Twice.” “And it had you sweatin’ like a whore in church, too,” Kylo shot at her. Ruby’s jaw dropped. “Don’t play this game with me, Ruby. What’s really on your mind?” Ruby picked her mouth back up and looked away. Then back at Kylo. “What’s with you and your parents?” Kylo’s eyes narrowed. This time, he averted his eyes and sighed. “Should’ve just asked me that instead of all of these dramatics, Babydoll.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet, then back up at Ruby. “Leia Organa Solo—the woman who changed your life and shit? Well, that’s my mother.” Ruby’s eyebrows knitted together. “Your mother...?” “So…Pastor Solo is your dad?” Ruby asked. “He’s my father,” Kylo said. Ruby saw pain in his face when he said that, and suddenly felt bad for bringing it up. She gazed at him with sympathetic eyes. But he rolled his own again. “Stop lookin’ at me like that. Look, I ain’t comin’ to the club no day next week. I’ve been advised to lay low,” he said with a scoff. “But I wanna cook you some dinner.” Ruby’s eyebrows shot up. “You? Cook me dinner?” “Yeah, I cook. I’m a damned good one.” Ruby tilted her head and sighed. “I don’t know…” “What are you doin’ Primeday?” he asked. “I—” “You eatin’ dinner at my place, huh?” Ruby blushed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I think that’s what you’re doin’…” Ruby gave him a soft punch in the chest. He winced only out of instinct, not because of her delicate impact. “Hey, look now. Don’t you get in the habit of trying to control me.” Kylo smirked. He reached his hand out and toyed with the fabric over her waist. “So, is that a yes, or a no?”

#when the sun sleeps in canto bight

10 notes · View notes

golden-deer-dear · 5 years

Text

Love of Mine, Ch. 1/5, Claude x Byleth Fic

Summary: They were so looking forward to the birth of the first child, but when complications arise, Byleth and Claude must face the fact that their moment of happiness could turn into a tragedy.

Notes: Yet another fic inspired by @pokemagines I was originally going to post this as a one shot, but it kind of ran away from me. I've cut it up into five chapters, and I'm hoping it doesn't get any bigger than that. But that means you guys get this first part now because I can't sit on anything for long. So much for my break. -_-

Warnings: Pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort

Read on AO3.

Love of Mine

It was cold when he woke. Still half asleep, Claude pulled the blankets tighter around himself, throwing the thick covers over his head and snuggling borderline aggressively into their warmth. He could not wait to return to Almyra. He had come to love Fódlan. His desire to protect the people of the Alliance had only grown to cover all of Fódlan once it was united under the war. They were his, just as the people of Almyra were his to lead and safeguard. The other students of the Golden Deer were like family to him, their place in his heart aided by the woman who had taught him to trust. So of course he loved Fódlan, he had married her ruler after all.

He did not, however, love their winters. Almyra was warm. It made sense. Sure, the desert nights were chill, but there was no need for layers upon layers of furs. Nor did he ever have to trudge through meters of snow, save for when he was crossing the Fódlan’s Throat. Claude was not fond of being able to see his own breath upon the cold air. It always felt like something was being stolen from him.

A low huff dragged him further toward consciousness. The mattress shifted and the blankets were pulled away from him. Claude whined, reaching out for their warmth, settling when his arms wrapped around an equally warm body. That was much better. “Taking blankets from your pregnant wife. How selfish,” Byleth’s soft voice chastised him.

Still not opening his eyes, Claude nuzzled against Byleth’s neck, a happy hum in his throat as his nose brushed against the smooth skin of her shoulder. “You won’t be able to use that excuse for much longer.” A grin, open and genuine, graced his face when his hand reached Byleth’s swollen stomach.

She still had two months to go, but the pregnancy was sitting heavy on her. His beautiful, confident, strong wife was wearing down as she was constantly ill. Her swollen joints made it hard for her to move, and her midwives were close to simply placing Byleth on bedrest altogether.

“Don’t tease me,” Byleth murmured. “I’m tired of being sick and swollen all the time. I feel like I can’t do anything myself anymore.”

Claude finally opened his eyes as Byleth placed soft kisses across his face. Her lips were warm little drops of Almyran sunshine he missed so much. He turned his head, seeking her lips with his own. “My poor wife,” Claude whispered as they broke apart. “Are you feeling ill this morning?”

“A bit nauseous, nothing more than usual,” Byleth admitted. “Nothing out of the ordinary. But I woke up with a terrible headache.”

Claude was fully awake now. His hands moved from Byleth’s stomach to the sides of her head, rubbing small circles against her temples. Byleth sighed happily, melting into his touch. “We should tell Alma the headaches are becoming more frequent.”

Byleth nodded against his hands. “I have my checkup with her and Mercedes this morning.”

“Would you like me there?”

He caught her hesitation, the brief flicker of fear that passed within her eyes. Even if her next words were not an agreement, he would have found a way to be with her anyways. Byleth’s hand came up to grasp one of his own, intertwining their fingers together.

“Yes, but Seteth will not be happy. We have put so much on him already.”

“He will understand,” Claude countered. “He wants to make sure you and our babies are taken care of, I think more so than me at times.

“On another note,” he continued, “think you’re up for some breakfast today?”

Byleth opened her mouth, only to close it quickly as she rolled away from him. She did not get far, only able to take a few steps from the bed before she doubled over and vomited, bile staining the tiled floor. Claude was at her side immediately, pulling her hair back and rubbing her back until Byleth’s stomach finally stopped betraying her.

A wretched groan left Byleth’s throat, and she leaned back into Claude’s embrace. He knew she felt absolutely miserable, had for the past few weeks now. It seemed it was becoming harder for her to eat, let alone keep it down.

“Claude, you are the light of my life, but did you really have to put two of them in me at once?”

More gentle caresses were laid against her stomach, his lips brushing soft reassurances against her cheek and jaw. “You two need to stop giving your mother so much grief,” he said, addressing Byleth’s stomach.

“I should have known your children would inherit your penchant for trouble.”

There was no hiding it. The look on Alma’s face let Byleth know that something was wrong. With the way Claude’s hand tightened around her own, she knew he had seen it as well. “What is it?”

Alma folded her large arms over her equally large chest, her face stern as she studied Byleth. Her back was bent with age, giving her the appearance of a shuffling square. Heavy wrinkles dragged at her skin. They folded over her face so much Byleth was not sure how the old woman saw.

Claude had insisted she join them when they returned from Almyra. She had served as assistant to the midwife who oversaw Claude’s birth. Byleth saw no reason to fight him on it. For all Alma’s gruffness, her knowledge of child bearing was vast, and she had spent much of her long career applying new theories of white magic to developing methods of safer deliveries. Alma herself had complained she was too old for such trouble, all the while packing her bags.

“Mercie, grab one of those test vials,” Alma commanded. Mercedes had found herself taken under Alma’s wing, absorbing the older woman’s knowledge with such ease even Alma admitted she was impressed. For her part, Mercedes seemed overjoyed to turn her magic toward bringing life into the world.

When the glass was in Mercedes’ hands, Alma turned back to the royal couple. “Some of your symptoms are worrisome, but there is a simple test we can conduct to see if anything is actually wrong. We will need to test your urine.”

“Come on, Professor.” Mercedes offered her arm to Byleth, letting her lean into her as she was guided to the adjoining chamber. She heard Claude take a step to follow them, but Alma in turn demanded his help with some medicines, commenting he could put that knowledge to some good use for once. Byleth smiled at the banter behind her, grateful that Alma was offering Claude a distraction.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, Professor,” Mercedes said, drawing Byleth’s attention away from her husband. “Alma has been teaching Marianne and I so much. We’re working on combining much of what she has taught us with our own magic.”

“Combining Almyran and Fódlan techniques?”

“Yes!” Mercedes nodded happily. “We’ve already seen some promising results.” Mercedes paused, turning away to give Byleth some privacy while she went about the business Alma had commanded of her. When she was done, Mercedes helped her back toward the bedchamber. “I’m glad you’re helping Claude with his dream,” she said in her soft voice that always seemed to set Byleth at ease. “There is a lot of work to do, but I believe the world is headed down a bright new path.”

Byleth smiled at her former student. “It’s become my dream as well. And you’re helping us make it happen as well, Mercie.”

Alma’s stern voice cut off whatever response Mercedes would have offered. “I’ll have a willow bark tea ready for you in a few minutes. I want you to drink all of it while we run our test.”

Byleth made a face but nodded. She hated the taste of the teas Alma made her drink. They were always so bitter, and she was never allowed to put any sweeteners in them. Warm arms wrapped around her, and Byleth leaned into Claude’s embrace, mumbling her displeasure against his shoulder. All Claude did was chuckle and kiss the top of her head, listening to Mercedes and Alma as they ran their test.

When Alma turned back to them, Byleth knew the woman had confirmed her suspicions. “There is something wrong.” Claude clutched her a little tighter, but for once remained silent.

“There is a high amount of protein in your urine,” Alma told them matter of factly. She may be gruff, but Byleth appreciated her no nonsense way of delivering news. “You have developed a condition known as toxemia. This is not an uncommon condition, and it is good we caught it early.”

“What can we do?” Claude asked. His cheek brushed against Byleth’s own as he pressed himself closer to her.

Alma sighed heavily. “There is not much that can be done. The condition usually resolves itself after delivery, but with how much time you have left, I cannot advise we induce labor. Especially since twins tend to come early anyways. They need as much time to grow as we can give them. Bedrest and the willow bark tea are the best treatments for now.”

Byleth groaned. She already did not feel like moving around all that often, but actually being confined to her bed was another thing altogether.

“Your checkups will need to be daily instead of twice a week,” Alma continued as if she had not heard. “If your condition begins to worsen, we will need to discuss inducing labor even if it is still too early.”

At her back, Byleth could feel Claude’s heartbeat quicken. She took his hands in hers, holding onto him in a vain attempt to quell her own fears. “And what happens if we don’t?” Claude squeezed her hands in his own silent protest.

For the first time, Alma actually hesitated. That more than anything scared Byleth. Alma took a deep breath before she answered. “Hopefully, the condition will stay as it is now, and resolve itself when you give birth. However, should it worsen and we not induce labor, there is a high chance for you to experience seizures. If you were to reach that stage, then you and the children will be in great danger.”

‘We could die.’ Byleth would not say it out loud, not with Claude there next to her. He knew it, he was too smart not to know what Alma’s words meant.

And she knew, if it came down to it, who Claude would choose. For once, his choice would contradict her own.

#fire emblem #claudeth #claude x byleth #claudeleth #claude von riegan #byleth #my fic #love of mine #fanfic

101 notes · View notes