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fandomobbsessedb · 2 months

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Alastor x F!Overlord!Reader

AN: this is the result of the first poll I posted, Alastor won so here we are!

I’ve kinda broken this into two bits in this one shot, there’s a warning farther down if you want to keep within the ideas of “headcannon” but farther below I have the start of a story, I got a bit carried away and am too far gone to delete it.

⚠️Warnings: mentions of blood, death, weapons, smoking, maybe 1 instance of cannibalism ( but its more in the sense of revenge rather than a canabalistic reader) (idk man it’s hell if your triggered don’t read 😭) this is really long already so I might just break it up or continue it to make a part 2. I have a LOOOOOOT of references in here to so many things, if you guys can pick up on them leave a comment and I’ll tag list you in my next fic if you want! Or don’t I honestly couldn’t care less it’s just for fun :p

Reader is referred to with afab terms.

Pt2-

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• In your life you tried to stay on “the right” path. Your parents raised you right, you tried your hardest to be nice, and where always on your best behavior, but after getting the short end of the stick for too long you kinda… loose it.

• You ended up in hell after a night out partying with some of your most valued clients, when you went to drive yourself home the heel of your stiletto got stuck under the gas pedal, as you tried to pull it out you took your eyes off the road and 💥 BAM 💥 you where hit by a large grocer truck.

•Opening your eyes to a red wasteland, the bright flash of lights and the smell of brimstone flood your senses. Looking down to try and gather your bearings you notice your whole body wasn’t (skn/tn) anymore… it was marble grey?

“Where… where am I?” I mumbled under my breath, trying to gather my surroundings, a bright flashing catches my eyes, a gigantic neon sign in the sky gives me my anwser…

“Welcome to Hell!!!”

“Hell…. I’M DEAD?!!!!” I groaned out through barred teeth and stood to my feet, looking around I saw definite signs, this was Hell alright. A blood red sky, fires everywhere, little sinners running around stabbing and shooting one another.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, ALL MY WORK, MY SHOPPING EMPIRE, MY CLOSET, MY AWARDS, MY EVERYTHING, RAAAAAAHHH!!!” In my anger I grabbed the nearest sinner and threw them to the ground, putting my foot between their shoulder blades and grabbing their arms.

“You’re gonna tell me right now, what the hell is going on, WHY AM I DEAD AND HERE-” I shouted in their ear, seeing blood come out… oh shit I probably burst their ear drum… oh well, I’ve done that plenty of times to my assistants.

“D-d-do you mean, like in hell, or or just this area?” They questioned nervously. To be fair they were a scrawny little thing…

“What in the-“ I paused to look around, then referred back to this little shit “actually HELL are you talking about?”

“W-w-well, you must, *gulp* you must be new here, huh?” It asked with a weary smile and a weak little laugh, probably trying to ease the tension. “Well, down… down here, we uh, we have overlords who- who rule certain areas, we’re in Ms.Leefolt’s t-t-t-territory right now, I mean, our king Lucifer, Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar rule all of hell…”

“Well, that certainly is… intresting.” I smirk and stand up, releasing his arms but not letting my foot off his back. “So these, overlords… are they appointed by your king, or born into or something?” I question with a sharp red nail in between my teeth, thinking…

“No, no ma’am just, just anyone who’s ballsy enough to, to, take over enough territory and have enough demons- sell them their souls in exchange for something. Umm- if it’s not too much of a bother, could you let me go… I- I can feel my ribs crushing under me…” it started wheezing out and trying to get a hand under its chest to place a barrier between their chest and the ground.

“Hm, well if that’s all true, I can’t let some little thing like you going around gossiping about me.” I growled looking down at this freak… pressing my heel into his spine harder.

“No! No please, I won’t say a thing I promise!! Just let me go, please… pleas-“

SPLAT-

“Whoops, my bad, I slipped.” I reasoned, pulling my now bloody leg out of his torso.

“Ohh, eeeeeew eweweweweweweeew, I’ve got bits of his, ugh, lung on my heels.” Flicking away the bits of organ from my shoes, I take a breath and another look around but this time in a planning sense. Overlords huh, well, I’ll just have to see how much this ‘miss leefolt’ likes the taste of arsenic, I wonder when the last time she had a homemade pie was….

• So of course to establish some dominance in my new living arrangement, I gutted that bitch from the inside out. I took her territory, her power, her souls, even her manor. When I went to her office to kill her I found the deed to her house and all the contracts of sinners who gave her their souls in a pretty shittily hidden safe.

• I mean, I had to work so hard to build my life up just for a stupid grocer to end it all, so this is fine… right?

• The years go by and the world changes, you became one of the most powerful and influential overlords in hell, re-establishing your power once held on earth to a business in hell. Rosie and Velvet quickly becoming your closest friends, Velvet in a more business sense and Rosie being your go to gossip gal. Both of you having elegant and refined tastes. You and Husk became friends over talking shit in a casino one night, and remained friends after his downfall. He talks to you about this, radio demon, from time to time but you haven’t heard much of him

Little do you know he knows almost everything about you~

• Your walking around Cannibal Town one day waiting for Rosie to finish a meeting, watching children run around and little carts selling all kinds of body related snacks.

I lost a bit of my sense of surrounding and almost tripped on a kid running around with his friend throwing a head back and fourth.

"Jerermy! Stop playing with your lunch and apologize to that nice lady you almost ran into."

"Sorry miss, I didn't mean too." He said looking down at the head ashamedly, then offering me a piece of the cheek. "Would you like some of this face? It's really good." He looked up at me with an excited look. "Oh thank you, but I'm waiting for lunch with my friend, I'll go to the butcher and get some though, it looks really good." I smiled my pointy teeth at him, patted his head and motioned him back to his mother, she waved to me and I nodded my head back, thinking it was time for Rosie to be done by now.

"My my, with your reputation of anger issues I would assume you would tear that poor child into bits upon realization." A staticky voice spoke behind me, tilting my head back but not my body as I don't know who it is. I look him up and down, his outfit and cane/staff thingy give off quite the powerful impression. "My, mhm, reputation?" I pester raising my eyebrow.

"Ah-hahahaha, My name's Alastor, its quite a pleasure to finally meet you in person." He introduced reaching for the back of my hand to place a kiss. Him saying his name reminded me, I too finally recognized the name. "Oh, Rosie has told me much about you." The radio demon, his names been brought up many times around cannibal town since he frequented their shops and small town locals.

"Oh yes, Rosie is one of my dearest friends" He replied linking our elbows and started walking towards the shop. "Mine as well, she is quite the darling, so let me ask you now, where you just standing there when I got to the park, or where you going to follow me in silence since I left the emporium~" He didn't stutter in his step but my revelation made the air feel a bit more, weary on his side. Reaching into my hand purse I grabbed my lipstick and hand mirror and paused my walk to apply a touch more. Looking just past my lips in the reflection I saw his eyes in the back corner snap to my down, then back up to my eyes with a tight smile. "Well, are you coming? I know Rosie hates to be kept waiting." I snapped it shut and outreached my elbow waiting for him to link his so that we could start the traverse back to Rosie's.

• After our little group luncheon with Rosie, Alastor and you didn't verbally indicate that you were closer in any sense. But physically you swayed like two tree's. Brushing branches back and fourth with the breeze, restless and apart yet labeled as "together"

• You started doing weekly business deals, him acquiring land and souls for you, and all he asked in returns is he uses that land and those souls as he pleases. Which honestly isn't a lot. When he pulls people or their shadows to come help at the hotel- their mostly your people but he always sends them back to whence they came.

• He likes to pretend he doesn't necessarily care for being around you, however he's always looking for time you two can be together, or even thinking of each other. On his radio show he'll mention new shopping, eating, entertainment locations on your turf. He knows you listen when your able to. Sometimes he uses his power to let his station be the only one playing where ever you are. In the car, in a shopping store, you could be sitting in the bathroom and it would get to the point where you can hear it from the vents. Making you roll your eyes and finish your business so you could get to your office to listen to the radio.

• Truth be told... you where falling to his whims as well. Alastor didn't necessarily have "territory" but many places in one area he had influence in and quite often frequented. When you had rips or damage to your very expensive very delicacy clothing you would walk with him to the seamstress, and afterwards you would often get tea or lunch together. Maybe he knows a good diner or two and ya’ll will sit there and eat, then get a milkshake (mostly bc you wanted one, he just indulges to make you happy though he doesn’t care for the cold sweet taste) and drink it through two straws, awwwwwwwwwwwwe!!

• When either of you knew of prestigious events happening around you invite the other to be your plus one. You go shop together to find outfits for the occasion. You started attending overlord meetings together, with yourself sat on the opposite side of Rosie, sending each other glances and touches under the table whenever Rosie wasn't looking or walked away for a brief moment. At the events you stay close together and often stand away from the crowd, whispering and gossiping together, allowing yourself a to drink silly, little do you know how well he can hold his liquor and often will be the one making sure YOU get home. Sometimes you wake up still dressed, like the gentleman he is, and sometimes you’ll wake up in some red pajama set…. Like the gentleman he is, he’s not gonna let you sleep in an uncomfortable outfit. But he’s respectful about it.

• He often send subliminal messages through your radio to help you fall asleep, to push you to coming to see him, to maybe just stay in your town if he knew something really bad was going on outside. His favorite to do is when your falling asleep he’ll play the calmest songs from his time to comfort you as you drift off.

• When he officially asked to court you he compared you to the beautiful crimson of the sky, saying your cheeks where more bright and delightful to gaze at then the morning sky, when it was particularly bright. All kinds of poetic gestures, sending crows to your windows, sending your gifts of bodies with knives in them, and the knives had small notes left for you on some quote from a book you like. Now how he knows those are your favorite books are beyond you…. you don’t talk about your books much but, maybe he’s seen you reading it at some random point in time? Who knows, not you.

• He’s all in all not a bad partner, of course when you want to go out he usually goes along with what you want to do but if there’s something he refuses to do, his claws are sinking into your arms to keep you from dragging him to do it.

• His smile is genuine around you and you adore when he lets you pet his ears~ he’s not that intimate early on in the relationship but when your just sitting on a couch or watching the sun set from somewhere and you just reach over and pet his ears, he is putty in your hands, physically he keeps his compose fairly well but inside he’s willing to do anything to keep you touching his ears, telling himself he would sell YOU his soul if it meant you wouldn’t stop, petting his ears and helping him groom his antlers, don’t even get me started on the tail… oh wait he’s already got something going on with that… well darn… hopefully you will keep accepting his caring actions rather than push them away.

——-STOP reading here if you don’t want to get into the more “story line” of this idea, if you want more of a story KEEP READING——-

• One night some sinner had gotten into your liquor stash and drank himself ditzy, you chased him into an ally way, looking to end his fucking life. Most of those where gifts from clients that most likely had aphrodisiacs and at the time where trying to get down your pants, but he drank from one of the few special bottles Alastor had gifted you and you went ballistic. You ended up catching him and killing him, and taking a tip from Rosie and ripped some of his limbs off, letting yourself indulge in the taste of warm, liquor filled blood. When you came too you realized you didn't know where you had chased him. Now covered in blood, liquor, rain, mud and whatever mess you stepped in on your way over. Seeing the iluminating lights of the sign for the Hazbin Hotel, your only thought was to try and get to Alastor.

*knock knock knock*

*creeeeeeeeeeeeeeek*

"Oh! Oh my gosh, hi! Come in Come in. " An ecstatic girl ushered you inside, making a towel appear seemingly out of nowhere and helping you dry off. "I'm Charlie, whats your name?"

"Oh, how rude of me" I respond trying to shake off my chills, my nose starts to get a bit runny. "Uhm I'm Y/N, I don't mean to sound intrusive- uh is Alastor here?" I ask hesitantly, not wanting to just barge in but after the night I've had I wasn't in too much of a mood for pleasantries.

"Oh yes! Here, why don't you sit at the bar, have some tea or water or something and I'll run up to his radio tower." She sat me down at a bar stool and walked away. The bartender was turned around already whipping me up something.

"So he's got you wrapped up here huh?" I inquired with a smirk, resting my hands under my chin and trying to keep a little composure. His wings ruffled a little bit before he reached for my favorite hell made brand of brandy, my cotten candy brandy, I'm not one for sweets but I love the zing it gives you. The kind where you loose your vision for a good 7 seconds.

"You haven't usually been one to be a stranger, what gives?" Husk asked turning around handing me my drink and a bowl of pretzels.

"Well when I saw you weren't at your usual gambling tables I didn't think to question it, thought you where maybe getting more chips... ooooor hooking up in the chip room.... ooooor selling even MORE of your soul, if that's even possible, maybe like your wings or your feathers or, like your body as a human shield in the next extermination, never thought you'd be here slinging drinks." I shrugged swirling my drinks around the glass before taking a sip.

Before he could respond he took a bit of a step back and growled really low and deep in his throat.

"Ah yes well he owed me a favor and since I took an investment in this hotel I needed a little work on it done." Alastor came up behind me with a warm towel wrapping it around my shoulders as the one Charlie gave me was wrapped around my waist keeping my legs warm... unfortunatly the sinner got caught at a bad time, I was in the middle of 'me time' before bed and was in my good silk nighty. Glad I walked to my office with my fuzzy robe and ballet slippers. I feel really warm and fuzzy, my heads all….. comfy now… is that static coming from Alast-

"Oh deerest your all wet, would you like to come up and I can help you clean up." He asked you shaking the towel on your shoulders helping you sit up. "Oh yes please" you responded looking at him with sad tired eyes.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

I took a sip of the warm tea Alastor had made me and laid back in the bath, taking it all in. I WAS just planning a quiet evening in at home, maybe snack on some treats I got in the Gluttony ring, watch some hells soap operas. Now I’m here, in my beau’s bathroom, relaxing… maybe I can convince him to let me up to his radio tower to listen to his late night show live, oh that would be fun. I wonder what it looks like up there? I’ve only ever seen his actual town house… a little ways away from town-

*CRASH *

“What the fuck?!” I sat up so fast I almost slipped, sitting on my butt… in the tub…. Shit did he spike my tea?

“Alastor? Is everything okay?” I asked loudly. Standing up carefully keeping three points of contact with the tub and the floor. I reached for a different robe he had given me, a soft red fluffy one, with (what I hope is faux ) fur along the collar and wrists.

Walking towards the bathroom door very carefully I cautiously reached for the shiny silver handle. Telling myself it’s okay but feeling a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, and the handle was the top of the pit…

“Alastor?” I called out again, once more not getting an answer, bringing my hands to my mouth when I heard a large thump out there, trying to keeping my composure… oh what the hell they know I’m here already. I went to turn the handle what the door got pushed in, had I been able to see what happened I would’ve seen Alastor in his demonic form and it probably would’ve scared the actual shit outta me… but NOPE

I went to open the door when it got pushed open and a bright blue flash covered all of my vision and made me feel… kinda tried… but I’m awake, almost like I’m not in my body… it’s… really hard……. To keep my….. keep my eyes …………………………….………open…….

• You collapsed to the floor slowly breathing, in a trance, feeling some sharper claws pick you up bridal style, if you weren’t so dazed out you would see Alastor frozen in time… like a paused TV… unable to get to you, or subdue your captor. You still had enough conscience to hear a muffled voice talking to a phone~

“Yeah we got her… foil chains worke—“

“Get her ba-“

“…. Longer you take the quicker……….. flasher wears-“

• Last thing you could remember hearing before completing falling out was a radio scramble in your brain, the sound going from a hollow scraggly to a tight scraggle- like turning the tv in between stations………

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AN: WELLLLL WHAT DID YA THINK???? Did you skip to down here or did you read the WHOLE thing. I really hope ya’ll like this, I’m so excited to make part 2, and maybe 3 or 4 depending on how far this goes.

Thank you to anyone who reads this and interacts in any way shape or form!!! Even if it’s just reading :) HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY AND REMEMBER

REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM BUY GOLD BYYYYYYEEEEEE

#headcannons #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel oneshots #short story #part 2?

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thisismeracing · 10 months

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King of my heart | MS47 | part. 15

Pairing: mick schumacher x hamilton!reader (she/her)

Warnings: curse words, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of sex (no smut tho), tooth-rotting fluff, not proofread, etc etc. Minors DNI!

word count: 4.1k

part. 14 | series masterlist | part 16 | taglist

Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he throws cautious carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

A/n: There are a bunch of moments between Gina and Yn, and Yn and Corrina, and especially Mick and Yn. I know some of you are curious as to what happened after the last smau chapter, but I need to show Yn and Mick before so that you can understand what happens and why it happens when it does. I hope you guys like it! Thank you so much for all the reblogs, comments, and likes, it means a lot and I would love it if you guys kept it coming (they really motivate me to get things done faster lol). I will probably be posting some extras during this week and, hopefully, chapter 16 which will be a regular chapter too. Let me know your thoughts, and make sure to send my work or this fic to a friend as a rec *mwah*

*The first part happens right after the China GP (chapter 10 here)

*SMAU VERSION

“Can you turn it off?” Yn mumbled, moving her face closer to Mick’s neck, burying herself there as if by a miracle the sound wouldn’t reach her from that spot.

The German scratched his eyes with the back of his hands, stretching his body as far as he could with Yn’s weight on top of him, “I fear we have to get up.”

“No, can’t do,” she answers while trying to merge her body with his, which takes a bunch of her curls to Mick’s face. It tickles him, and Mick can only chuckle, especially when she adds, “I think I’m still hungover. How can you even consider leaving the bed?”

“C’mon, I gotta shower and find something healthy to eat before getting to the paddock,” it’s the German’s response, fingers tenderly trailing down Yn’s body.

The Hamilton pushes herself up, elbows propped on Mick’s naked chest, her sleepy brows raising, and her hand confidently lifting to him in a greeting manner. Mick snickers, foreseeing her dirty joke, but Yn did not crack, only smirks and joshes, “Nice to meet you. Did you know my middle name is Healthy? Pretty close to Hamilton as you can tell too.”

She looked so pretty, he thought, all giddy and smiley, wearing nothing but his shirt, perched on top of him, body still soft with sleep, and coated by a post-orgasm glow. Mick huffed moving one of his hands to her waist to keep her in place while the other pulled some of her curls from her face. Her brown skin gleamed under the natural light coming from the big window in front of them. He swore he could spend days admiring her without getting even remotely bored.

Meanwhile, Yn was doing the same, studying him study her. The way his blue eyes would move attentively, sometimes using his fingers to trace the path his eyes took. He would brush it around her collarbone, under her chin. He would draw her lips without even noticing he was doing so, and she would smile because nothing ever felt quite like that.

Nothing ever felt as natural as being with Mick.

“Shower sex?” she breaks the moment with another playful joke and shrieks when the blonde gets up, hauling her body on his shoulders and power walking to the bathroom. Their laughs echoed right before their moans and silent promises. They had yet to choose which one was their favorite symphony.

–

Yn had just finished drying her hair and was now giving the final touches, Mick was sitting patiently on the marble of the sink, attentively observing her movements, “We should go sightseeing later today,” he suggested.

“That would be nice, actually,” the Hamilton agreed, breaking the distance between their bodies with short steps. Less than a second and she was standing between his legs, grinning up at him, “thought, I would agree to do about anything if it meant staying close to you,” she confessed, and Mick felt his heart falter a beat. It was still new for him the way she openly praised and confessed what she was feeling and thinking.

He was enchanted.

Mick beamed pinching Yn’s chin between his pointer and forefinger and bringing her face for a tender kiss. Their lips brushed tentatively, and she found a home for her hands on his shoulders and waist, her gentle touch made him humm in appreciation right before he dived into her, exploring each other as much as the physics of the position permitted. Everything was amplified by the feeling of their body heat and the fast pumping of their hearts. Tingly stomach, clenching lungs, burning cheeks, sweaty palms. Kissing someone never felt like this before, and they were both over the moon to experience it with the other.

It would be hard to go around their days without touching after discovering every little detail and feeling they did. Yn could only pray her eyes didn’t turn her in.

And as it turns out, her eyes didn’t turn her in because they were together for almost a month. What did screw things up, however, was the internet. The media started to speculate even more, which meant tons of paparazzi around her and, worse, Mick’s family. Lewis was used to the flashes and the comments, and he knew his sister and the Schumacher were together, Yn told him during the Baku week, nonetheless, he was stressed about how everyone was invading their privacies, things went as far as the oldest Hamilton giving a rude answer when asked about it.

So that meant Yn was as stressed as ever, and she felt responsible for putting everyone on the spot. That’s what she told Corinna while they were having breakfast at the paddock. It was the Miami race week, things were hectic, everyone was super busy with everything, and still, they had to deal with the internet’s attention. Both Yn and Corina were aware that their breakfast trip too would be all around Twitter before the day was over.

“It’s not your fault, honey,” the oldest Schumacher assures Yn, hands extended at the table, fingers intertwined in an attempt to calm Yn.

“How did you deal with this when you were younger?” Yn asked, but then added, “If you’re comfortable, I don’t want to make you talk about something that may make you sad.”

Corina smiled at Yn’s consideration. She was always a sweetheart, yet would joke around and make everyone laugh. The Schumacher understood why Mick was head over heels for the youngest Hamilton. “You get used to it, sometimes you gotta set boundaries and tell people what's off limits, but there’s a part of your life that inevitably has to be public,” she explains. “You’re both famous in different fields, but connected by your brother’s career too, so I think that’s the reason why everyone wants a peek into your relationship,” Corina’s voice was soft and she delivered every word holding tightly Yn’s hand, the oldest woman knew how it felt to have to choose between love and privacy. She knew how hard it was in the beginning and she knew the importance of having guidance. It wasn’t just being exposed as a person, but as a couple, and that added extra pressure to the relationship. “I love Michael, so it was an easy choice. It didn’t change the fact that I had to get used to everything, but it helped me think about our future and present together whenever I got anxious.”

Yn took a deep breath. She liked Mick more than she initially thought. Being closer to him, sharing secrets, thoughts, fears, and affection with someone always brings them closer, and the Schumacher was so near her heart that she was afraid he was already with half of his body inside, making a home for himself there. Still, it’s a difficult situation when you’re in between with your feelings, and you don’t know if you love them or you just like them a lot, and it gets hard to make decisions such as Corina’s. It puts you in the mirror facing your own wrongdoings and fears, you have to ask questions and deliver honest answers because the next step will be supported by it. One wrong wording, and you can trip.

“I’m really sorry for putting you in the spot again with all the paparazzi and internet comments,” Yn glances at her untouched plate, heart heavy and body tired.

“Hey,” Corina calls, “I don’t care about it. It is an inconvenience, but it’s nothing new to me or Gina, or Mick. What I do care about is my children's happiness, and Mick cares for you, he smiles more when you are around, and even Angie seems to be obsessed with you. I can’t be more unbothered by noisy people who don’t really know about our family, talking on the Internet,” she offered.

They shared eye contact for another minute, smiling knowingly and affectionately at each other. And so with her heart warm and with a big smile on her face, Yn tossed part of her fears away and started a new topic, a fun one, finally biting on her food.

Sunday proved to be a tough experience for both Hamilton’s. One dealing with privacy problems, and the other dealing with a sixth position in a race that was supposed to treat him right. Yn watched everything with her dad, Corinna, and Gina by her side, and although it wasn’t the outcome they were waiting for, it was a good experience to share that moment with them. Gina was an avid watcher, whilst Mick kept attentive eyes on the screen, only occasionally speaking, Gina would cheer and grab Yn whenever Lewis had to slow down for a curve or a car got too close. It took a couple of jump scares for Yn to get used to how Gina would suddenly go for her arms or almost yell something, but by the middle of the race, the Hamilton would be ready for her friend’s manner.

When the race was finally over, Yn was leaning on her father, a small pout on her lips thinking about how bummed her brother must be with the results. Lewis, just like her, would always set high goals and would do just about anything he physically could to reach it. It was something that she admired about him, and he admired about her, and both worried about each other. Their similarities made them share similar problems too, and at those times one of the few people who could calm their racing minds would be their dad.

“It’s time to get you cape, super dad,” Yn tried to lighten the mood, and Anthony, her dad, chuckled. He turned, planting a kiss on her forehead, and smiled when he saw Mick approach them.

“Gina’s in the bathroom,” Yn pointed behind her, and the German nodded.

“Yeah, I saw her leaving… I- uhm got you some water and the chocolate bar you like,” he moved the two things in his hand, “I didn’t see you eat nor drink during the race. I thought this could lift your mood a bit too.”

Anthony watched everything unfold in front of him. The way his daughter stared at the blonde in front of them, how her lips curled in a genuine smile and her eyes twinkled in a way that only someone who had known her since forever would notice, the way it did when she was trying to bottle her emotions, to keep her reaction’s a whisper, instead of let it be heard by others.

“Thank you, mouse,” Yn smiled, taking a swing from the water and eagerly opening the sweet bar, but nothing tasted sweeter than knowing Mick was paying attention, that he thought about her, that he worried about her even when his mind was focused on something else.

“Would you like something too, Mr. Hamilton?” Mick asked. “I didn’t-”

Anthony interrupts with a playful chortle, “You didn’t pay attention to me,” it’s a statement, but although it could be interpreted as a bad thing, it doesn’t sound like something terrible for the oldest Hamilton seeing as he is smirking at Mick. “But you did share your attention between the race and my daughter, so I gotta give you that.” Anthony jokes, and Mick relaxes. “I’m good, got some water and food while you kids were focused on not cursing or screaming.”

Just as he finished his sentence, Gina returned from the bathroom. “I’ve been watching races since a kid, but it still stresses me and makes me wanna curse a pilot or two,”

“Or twenty,” Yn added, and the whole group shared a laugh.

“Or twenty,” she agrees.

“Twenty what?” it was Corinna’s voice approaching.

And so they tried to focus their conversation on the light topic before Yn and her dad went to Lewis for some much-needed family time. Yn let her dad do the talking, while her brother leans on her, sweaty forehead on her shoulder and one of his hands clasped on hers. It’s their silent way of communicating they got each other’s back. A reminder that the other is there and won’t leave. Lewis tried to argue about how sixth wasn’t good, but neither of the Hamiltons’ were having that, so they stayed together until Lewis had media duties, now with his mind in the right place. And Yn made him promise her they would go out with their friends to celebrate the points.

And that they do.

Monday starts early, or at least that’s what Yn gathered when she woke up to soft kisses on her naked back. The room was still fairly dark just a bit of light was spilling from the sides of the big curtains giving the space a nice coloring. She spotted her clothes scattered on the ground along with Mick’s, and she mumbled in her hazy state when his lips found her shoulders.

“It’s time to wake up,” it was a whisper, but his voice was always thicker in the morning, which gave Yn chills.

“Two more hours,” was her plea.

Mick laughed, his lips now on the sweet spot of her neck, kissing and biting, and taking a meowl out of Yn’s lips, “You’re the one who came up with the idea of going out today. C’mon, it’s a beautiful day,” his voice is so melodic, spoken between kisses, in synchrony with his exploring and gentle hands on her. It feels like a beautiful day indeed, but Yn just wanted some more hours of sleep after spending most of the Sunday night talking in bed with Mick. She could still hear their laughs and feel her belly hurting from how much they did it.

“How come you know it’s a beautiful day if the curtains are closed?” It’s her sassy response, but Mick knows she’s just trying to buy a bit more time. He will answer, she will mumble something back, he will answer yet again, and this time she will be snoozing.

He’s attentive.

Mick loves to observe Yn.

So his answer is simple yet effective, “We went to bed together and woke up together. How could it not be a beautiful day?”

And that get’s Yn full attention. She turns, her back now on the mattress, Mick’s weight deliciously on top of her, his sweet, yet sleepy smile takes her breath away for a second or two, “You’re so cheesy,” she whispers, one hand rubbing her eyes, the other holding Mick’s bicep as if silently telling him to stay close.

“I got you to wake up.”

Yn nods her head lightly, eyes closing again, but this time to contain her lips from forming their own sentence, confessing what her mind has yet to discover. She smiles, and it’s so beautiful. Mick wants to keep the image in his head forever.

“You’re right.”

“About what?” Mick asks, dipping his head to kiss her naked skin again. Yn’s fingers thread throw his blond strands messing his hair a bit more.

“It’s a beautiful day.” She opens her eyes again, big brown orbs getting lost in the soft details of Schumacher’s face. “Why can’t we stay here forever? This could be our kingdom,” it’s her sleepy comment, but something she has been thinking about a lot. Life was so much simpler when it was just the two of them inside a room. She wanted to keep and cherish their feelings. It was so precious and intimate sometimes Yn wished it could be their secret for longer than they knew would be.

“Queen of my heart,” Mick purred in her ear, lips trailing kisses from that spot to her face.

“King of mine,” she breathed her confession lacing her arms around his naked chest and melting into the hug that followed.

Both of them were aware of what their confession meant.

It felt too soon to say I love you, but it was never too soon to swim through it, to discover their feelings, to get used to how each praise and word sounded, to the secrecy and intimacy of sharing how falling for the other felt.

There were many ways to confess, show and feel love.

Mick and Yn were discovering it day by day.

–

“And don’t take forever, please, Sir!” Yn joked, and Lewis rolled his eyes before slamming the bathroom door. Mick laughed at the siblings' antics.

It was about an hour after the couple had woken up, and they were now in the process of dragging Lewis out of his room. The oldest Hamilton was usually, contrary to Yn, the early bird. Lewis would be up and doing just about everything before the clock hit seven am, but it was a post-race Monday, and sometimes he gave himself the luxury of sleeping in (which would usually consist of sleeping until eight am).

Today, however, Lewis was woken up by his sister and his friend, chaotically fussing him to change so they could have breakfast. And what else could he do if not follow? How could he ever say no to his sister when she was so radiant and smiley in the morning?

Lewis played the older brother part and pretended to be annoyed by the duo before finally giving in and following their script.

Which consisted of breakfast in the hotel with part of the grid, who was going to go with them, half of the morning at the beach enjoying the Miami weather and clear sand, and then a boat party, which was not supposed to be a party but rather just a gathering with some low music and drinks, but Lando was one of the few who volunteered to get everything together, so neither Yn nor Mick was surprised when the boat friendly gathering turned into a yacht party.

Yn remembers drinking and swimming with Gina, drowning shots with Pierre and Yuki, and spending over an hour discussing music with Lewis and Charles. Between every conversation and interaction she had with her friends, her eyes would always find Mick from across the boat or in the water. They would smile at each other, sometimes stare for as long as possible without raising people’s attention, and then go about their day. She wanted to stop by his side and kiss him or help him with sunscreen on his cheeks and back, but although they were friends, they were still a secret for some new guests, and there was always the possibility of cameras catching. So they kept it to themselves.

Or at least they tried.

And they did it for most of the party.

Until they couldn’t anymore.

That’s how they found each other in the bathroom, on the bottom floor of the yacht.

Flush cheeks, warm bodies, and loose giggles. The music from the party was muffled, and they reveled in each other’s touch. Eager hands exploring every surface of the other’s body. Mick’s arm curled around Yn’s waist, pressing against each other harder and moaning in her mouth. She grinned into the kiss, humming and biting his lower lip. He tasted like alcohol, with a salty tinge to it thanks to the sea and the sunscreen. His hair was still damp from when he was swimming, and Yn threaded her fingers between them, pulling lightly.

They pulled away to catch their breaths, and Yn attached her lips to his collarbone, kissing and biting it, enjoying the way he leaned into her, as if in surrender to her caressing. Mick cups Yn’s cheeks between his hands, staring into her eyes, and it’s like time freezes for a second.

She smiles.

He smiles too.

His lips parted to say something, but before he could, there was a knock on the door.

“Oi?”

“Occupied!” they both shout over the muffled music and the closed door, and they laugh after noticing that now whoever is on the other side knows that a couple is making out in the bathroom.

“We should get back to the party,” Mick sighed, and Yn silently agreed, standing on her tiptoes to give him another kiss.

“See you up there,” it’s whispered on his lips, and he smiles, giving her another peck and finally letting her body go.

He watches as Yn fixes her bikini in front of the mirror, and blows him a kiss before opening the door and leaving. Mick takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and all the blood rushing through his body. He can still feel her body pressed against his, her smile on his skin. He takes some time to get ready before going back to the party, and when he does, Yn is sitting with Gina, her hands now occupied with a drink, and one of her big smiles gracing her lips.

“This party was the best idea ever, Yn,” Gina gushed, passing Yn a water bottle. “I’m letting loose before the competition in two weeks. I feel like I was getting too anxious,” she confessed, and Yn nodded.

“When is it happening?” Yn asked and then added, “The exact date, I mean.”

Gina took a sip from her drink, sitting cross-legged and turning her body slightly in Yn’s direction. They watched as Mick strolled toward them, a tipsy smile on his lips, seeing the two interact. He sat on the ground, body leaning on the seat, parting Yn’s legs to accommodate his large shoulders.

“May 28th,” was the oldest Schumacher answer.

Yn furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, “It’s the date of the Monaco race, right?” She asked, and Gina shrugged and nodded. “You’re going?” Yn nudged Mick with her feet, and he grabbed it, directing her calf on top of his shoulders and in front of his chest.

“I tried, but it’s a hectic season. And it’s literally race day. I couldn’t get the day off,” Yn observes Gina’s and Mick’s instance. They seem bummed with the whole situation. But who wouldn’t be? It’s his sister's tournament, and he won’t be there to cheer for her. And she felt her heart squeeze with the idea of Gina competing without a familiar face in the stands for her.

“But Corinna’s going, right?”

Gina shook her head, and Yn bit her lip in thought.

“She originally would, this ride was supposed to happen in the middle of the week, but something came up, and they had to reschedule,” the blonde girl explained.

The youngest Hamilton played with the strings of her swimsuit, while her mind came up with solutions for the current problem, “I could go,” she suggests. “If you want me there, that is. Only if you’re comfortable,” Yn is quick to add.

Yn witnesses Gina’s face change from a small frown to a big smile. Her eyes twinkled, and her posture relaxed, before she pursed her lips, questioning, “But how about Lewis? He’s racing, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but Dad will be there, and so will Mick,” Yn grins, catching Mick’s eyes for a split second before looking back at Gina.

“Would you do it? Would you trade Monaco for Oklahoma to watch me ride a horse- It’s noisy, and very country. Do you like country stuff? Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” now Gina’s rambling, excited but also nervous with the perspective of Yn regretting her decision.

“G, breathe,” Mick reminds his sister, and she catches her breath, takes a sip of her drink, and then turns to Yn again.

“You’ll have a familiar face rooting for you in the stands. I will need a cowboy hat, though. I don’t have any.”

The blonde lets out a small squeal and lunges to hug Yn spilling their drinks in the process. They laugh, and ignore the sticky and sweety tinger of the alcohol and fruity juice, embracing each other.

Yn can’t see, but Mick is watching them from his spot on the ground. Neck turned in an attempt to get an even better view of the bond between them being straightened. He feels his heart warm with the image, how Gina’s eyes are closed and her lips spotting a large smile, how she looked more relaxed, happier because of Yn.

All because of Yn.

It’s a beat before they exchange some more words, Mick is too deep into his own thoughts, he only notices Gina getting up in the direction of the hose by the end of the yacht, and he takes the opportunity to get up.

“I think we will need another trip to the bathroom,” he whispers in Yn’s ear, and she smiles.

“I can clean up in th-” She stopped herself when she saw his expression. A mix she now knew to be admiration and arousal.

“Thank you for sacrificing Monaco for Gina,” he mumbled when they reached the corridor, not even waiting until they got to the bathroom to smash their lips in a kiss.

“It was nothing,” she dismisses it, and he shook his head.

“It was beautiful, and it was a lot. You’re too beautiful.” He praised, and Yn could only let her lips be devoured, her body be consumed, and her mind convinced of every compliment Mick whispered to her in their little bubble.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mellowpizzapuppy @kenanlotus0 @mickslover @Dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @chaoticevilbakugo @carojasmin2204 @wondergirl101ks

(let me know if your tag was supposed to be only for my other works and you don't wanna be tagged on the series! <3)

#mick schumacher #ms47 #f1 imagines #mick schumacher imagine #f1 imagine #black!reader #millie writes #komh #mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher x black!reader #mick schumacher x you #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader #social media au f1

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aureatchi · 20 days

Text

ᝰ𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‘ 𝐓��𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝒲𝐸 𝒟𝒪 𝒜𝑅𝒯 ! artist!osamu d. x artist!reader x artist!fyodor d.

who said “michelangelo” created the sistine chapel and crowned “leonardo da vinci” the most famous artist in all renaissance history? sure, dazai osamu and fyodor dostoevsky were rivals, but the story of their entanglements with a girl perhaps even more gifted than them didn’t have to be lost to time.

৻ꪆ INFO. fem!reader. historical + renaissance!au. love triangles. arranged marriage. lots of drama. murder; minor character death. reader has an ability. fluff; angst. suggestive themes. religious imagery. rivals to lovers. dazai → leonardo da vinci, fyodor → michelangelo, reader → raphael. bsd manga & beast spoilers mentioned. somehow follows canon events. tba + heed individual chapter warnings. ﾉ wc. tbd

ongoing. no schedule; posting dates for chapters will be updated on here.

৻ꪆ P.S. REVERIE. finally !! my super self-indulgent fyozai rivals to lovers artist!au series is here + my first series on tumblr. ᡣ𐭩

CHAPTER I 𓂃⊹ she painted the high renaissance onto her blank canvas

CHAPTER II 𓂃⊹ once you have tasted the taste of the sky, you will forever look up

CHAPTER III 𓂃⊹ i saw the angel in the marble and carved until i set her free / i am still learning.

CHAPTER IV 𓂃⊹ the mona lisa crime

COMMENT UNDER THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGSLIST ! ◞ xtra info+playlist. ◞ character sheets.

৻ꪆ this is a work of fiction. obviously, some aspects of this series are historically inaccurate, even while i add true facts i researched from this time period. firstly, the main goal of this au is to captivate this era’s aesthetics! :)

reblogging the chapters are cherished; they are what support me the most <3. ﾉ dividers + support banner by cafekitsune. graphic mine; DO NOT save. art used @/tigerAngel_21 on twt.

#৻ꪆ 𓂃 ‘til death we do art #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai x reader #fyodor x reader #dazai x you #fyodor x you #bsd dazai #fyodor bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd fluff #bungo stray dogs #bsd imagines #dazai fluff #fyodor fluff #bsd scenarios

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penguintransporter · 2 years

Text

Say Something (John Stones imagine)

This is angsty, and I wrote it in one sitting while cooking dinner, so if there are any mistakes or something, don’t be too harsh. I will go back and check it once I have more time on my hands. I wanted to write this for a long time, and consider it as a warm up to the next chapter of Forget Me Not which should be posted before Wednesday. Anyway, read, enjoy, and tell me what you think.

credits to whoever owns this picture.

—

It’s wet and cold outside; quiet too — the sky grey and heavy with the rain that just waits for the right moment to spat on the sleepy streets of the city.

From where she sits, at the shiny, marble made kitchen island, she can hear the front doors open at the exact time as every day — the sound echoing throughout the minimally furnished house — something she wasn’t a huge fan of, but it was his bachelor pad before she came along, and she felt bad for disrupting it, so she went along, hoping that she would eventually get used to it.

She hears him twist the locks, and the familiar dull sound of his backpack as it hits the hardwood floor upon being thrown from his shoulder, followed by the sound of his car keys carelessly hitting the small bowl on the side-table.

She wants to roll her eyes at his habits, wants to yell out a sarcastic remark; a joke — something that usually makes the two of them laugh at his messiness, but she doesn’t.

More than anything, she wants to bolt towards him like she did all these months, give him a hug and kiss him welcome — sometimes more than innocently, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she pulls her quivering bottom lip between her teeth, and keeps her eyes focused on the sad, lifeless garden behind the windows; wet and splattered with rain.

“Before I forget—,” John calls out as he walks through the corridor, “Jenny called this morning, asking if we are still on for the dinner next week,” he adds — voice still loud before it sinks down to the usual volume as he enters the large living space with adjoined kitchen area, divided with a large dining table. “I said we are, but— oh, what’s this?”

He is not looking at her, but the dining table, set for two — the aroma of his favourite dish filling his nostrils as he approaches the chair where he usually sits.

“I made food,” she replies, getting up slowly as she wraps both of her hands around the cup of herbal tea she made earlier, hoping that it would calm down her nerves. “I felt like cooking.”

“Oh,” John mouths — the smile spreading across his features as he takes two long strides and wraps his tattooed arms around her shoulders, kissing her forehead. “You know I don’t mind having a toast or something, but I am not saying no to this. This looks amazing.”

She closes her eyes — the realisation of what he has done dawning on her; breaking her heart, and she takes a small intake of breath before stepping away from him and his warm embrace.

“You’re welcome,” she smiles a little before making her way towards the large staircase that leads to their bedroom on the second floor.

Seemingly not paying attention to her, John sits down — long legs getting comfortable under the table before he starts piling the food on his plate. “Where are you going?” he suddenly asks, stopping — the large serving spoon mid-air.

“I am not hungry,” she answers, stopping for a second, “just made tea.”

John laughs a little — the laugh that made him fall for him in the first place; the melody that made her realise that she was in love with him some time later. “But you are always hungry,” he comments as he grabs his cutlery. “Come on, I’ll wait for you before I start. It looks delicious.”

“Just eat,” she whispers as she walks upstairs and enters the room, setting the tea on the top of the dresser, next to the framed photograph showing a girl and a guy who only several weeks from that day would be making out against his car in a parking lot in front of her work.

In the picture they are happy; careless even. John, as tall as he was, had one of his arms wrapped around her shoulder, the other ruffling her hair, as they sat next to one another on a plaid, picnic blanket — a goofy smirk on both of their faces. It was thanks to his mate that they met — both of them killing time as their friends tried to chat up one another. A string of sarcastic remarks have been exchanged, followed by sharing food, and before they knew it they were laughing like children, talking about everything and anything.

That day she fell for him, and so did he for her.

Shaking her head lightly, she opens the dresser in front of her, picking up some of the clothes, neatly folded inside — a couple of t-shirts and a pair of leggings, before crouching down to grab some trousers and a thick jumper. Standing up straight, she makes a move towards the bed before packing the things in her weekender bag she had prepared earlier that day.

“What are you doing?”

It’s his voice that sends a shiver down her spine, and she turns around, looking at his figure filling up the doorway, and she cannot help but feel the love for him break her up, and as much as she tries to resent him for what he did, she just cannot.

She still wants him to hold her when they watch TV together, she still wants him to kiss her senseless, make her call out his name over and over again late at night, wants to wake up next to him and shut his alarm off on his days off. She still wants to wear his jersey and chant his name when he gives his last breath on the pitch, and wants to sit in the silence of his car in the Etihad garage after the way too many goals were conceded.

“I will be staying at my mum’s for a few days.”

“”How come?” he asks, leaning away from the doorway and stepping inside the room, “you didn’t mention anything.” She shrugs as she turns around, continuing with her packing. She cannot say for how long they’ve been silent, but she can feel that he is getting impatient by the way he’s barged into the room, stopping behind her back. “Okay!” John raises his voice suddenly, making her jump a little — the quietness of the atmosphere gone and replaced by nerve-cutting tension. “What’s wrong?” he asks, as he walks around to be able to face her. “You’ve barely looked at me since I’ve arrived, the same thing yesterday, and the day before. You are distancing yourself, and now you’re suddenly going to your mum’s.”

She tries to keep her composure steady, but she feels like breaking at any point when she looks at him — eyes focused on his own.

“When were you planning on telling me about what had happened in Greece this summer? Was it Abby or Leah, or both?”

The words she was dreading to say come out of her calmly and coherently, despite her nerves, and she watches him and the way his stern face turns into one of worry — eyebrows furrowing; a nervous hand finding its way through his curls.

He is silent, but he quickly looks away from her, and she knows that everything she had heard is true, no matter how hard she wanted it not to be.

“How did you find out?”

She wants to laugh at this reaction, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stays quiet as she places the last items in her bag before zipping it up. “It’s funny,” she finally speaks up quietly, “it’s funny how you care about how, and for the three nights straight, I’ve been wondering why it had happened, John?”

“It happened because I was drunk, please, you have to—,” he keeps talking, but she doesn’t hear a word that comes out of his mouth — her heart breaking into tiny shreds, landing on the floor of their pristine bedroom. John is pacing around the room, both of his hands in his hair before he stops — his face a painting of pain. “Why are you not saying anything?”

“I don’t—,” she stops herself, rubbing at her face with both of her hands, “nothing I say will change the fact that you slept with someone else, John. It won’t change the fact that you cheated on me, so why hurting myself even more...”

“I didn’t mean to, I—it happened…” he whispers, taking a step closer, “here, hit me—” he demands angrily as he grabs both of her arms and pulls them closer to his chest, “tell me I am a bastard, that I deserve to die, do something, just don’t be—don’t be silent. She was a mistake, and I will be ashamed for what I did, but just please...don’t—”

She pulls her arms away sharply, looking up at him — nothing but despair and disappointment written over his handsome features before stepping away and picking up the bag in her dainty hands. She lingers for a second in the doorway — her eyes watering with the tears that she had kept for so long inside.

It hurts, John. It fucking hurts. — she wants to say, but bites back her words as a small, silent sob leaves her throat, and she finds herself running down the stairs before slipping out of the warm house and under the heavy, grey clouds, slowly spitting the rain on the city.

#john stones #john stones imagine #john stones fanfiction #john stones fan fiction #john stones x reader #footballer fanfiction #football imagines #footballer imagines #football fanfiction #footballer x reader

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gotnofucks · 3 years

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Compromise

Paring: dark!August Walker x Reader

Summary: Your surrender to him would ensure the safety of the world.

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, smut, violence, blackmail and manipulation, 18+ ONLY

MASTERLIST

+++++

The doorman helped you out of the car, your hand firmly clasped in his gloved one as you steadied your feet in your high heels. The cold made gooseflesh rise on your arms and back, the little hair standing up in the breeze. You clutch your coat closer, following your escort inside the hotel and exhaling deep in the elevator. You were nervous, not something unfamiliar. But you were also scared, something that could prove fatal in your line of work.

As the elevator dinged, announcing the top floor that opened in front of you, you almost didn’t step out. The whole thing felt off, the bodice of your dress hugging you tight and making it difficult to breath. And yet when your escort waved you forward, you followed behind him, the floor length skirt of your dress softly swishing on the marble floors and your heels tick-tocking against them.

The man led you past a number of unmarked doors before stopping before an ornately carved doorway, intricate vines twisting on its surface to form a beautiful design. The man gave three sharp knocks and pushed the door open, bowing a little as you entered but not following. The clicking shut of the door made you flinch, and you looked around at the room in awe.

It was a beautiful room, large with the opposite wall made completely of glass, the night sky twinkling at you as the distant city lights burned small like tiny candle flames. There was a round table in the center of the room, draped in silver and black silk tablecloth and set with two chairs. Against the right wall sat a large four poster bed similarly laid in black sheets and sheer white curtains tied to the posts.

You swallowed uneasily, walking inside with as little noise as possible. The invitation, glittery silver ink on black polished paper burning a hole inside your handbag. It was worded so wisely, disguised as a dinner invitation, and yet bearing the marks of someone who could destroy your life. The code was easy to break, and as you read between the polite lines of invitation and gazed at the secret code for your covert mission, your hands trembled. You don’t tremble much. You learnt not to when you joined this task force as an agent.

And yet, the knowledge that someone knew about you and your mission made your fingers curl up for warmth inside your palm. The future of millions was depending on this mission, and this mission depended on you. If you failed, the world would fall, and you will live the rest of your life bearing the blood of endless lives on your soul.

When he stepped out from the shadows that concealed the door behind them, you gasped. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were. The blue green eyes you had looked at everyday for the past few months gazed back at you, amused, analyzing.

“Hello Agent, a fine evening isn’t it?”

August had always been polite, always sincere. He was the one person you thought was innocent in this whole operation. He was just a CIA operative; he was an agent who got recruited into something they didn’t know the truth about. Yet, he stood before you with a smile gracing his lips beneath that bushy mustache and the dimple on his chin barely visible under his beard. He was donning a sharp black suit matching with the room esthetics, and he cocked his head at you, pulling out a chair as an offer.

“You look lovely, let me take that coat.”

You let him remove your coat, rubbing your arms as you silently took the seat he offered. In this large room, with the dark décor, his huge beefy body made him appear sinister, like a dragon who was overlooking his hoard.

“I didn’t expect you.” You commented, taking a sip of the water in front of you. Just like that, your fear was gone. The nerves before the mission vanished as you came back into your element. The field was your battleground, and you knew you owned it. August smiled, sitting across from you.

“Oh, I know, and that was your mistake. Or maybe it was my success. I am not completely innocent but –”

“– you don’t exactly scream a genocidal maniac either.” You completed for him. He was good.

August Walker walked the fine line when it came to being an agent. While he was courteous and polite, he was also easy to anger. You’d seen him in action, fighting off men twice his bulk with barely an effort, the faintest tinge of amusement in his eyes as he watched them bleed. Espionage was a rough life, and many agents went in over their head to deal with the bloodshed and cruelty they witnessed. You didn’t think he was naïve, but you also didn’t think him evil.

“Where did I go wrong?” You asked him, genuinely curious. You were so meticulous with everything; each move you made was calculated. You had to be brilliant to be handed a mission as important as this.

August splayed his hands on the table that was curiously empty of any food, only two glasses of water and two empty wine glasses with a bottle of wine sitting in the center.

“Nowhere truly. You were so fascinating to look at though. In fact, I think that had I not been looking so closely at you, I would have missed the little signs.” His voice was smooth and soft, level. Eyes never leaving yours, but then again, they barely left you before. You knew he was watching you, but you had thought it was natural for someone to keep an eye on the new addition of the team.

“Little signs?”

“The first time I noticed something was when you tapped that tattoo near the crook of your elbow. You did that often, I though it was a nervous tick. I thought it was cute.” He continued, and both your eyes strayed to the small Celtic shield tattoo that was inked over the scarred skin hiding the small chip under your skin. Your eyes met his and he smirked.

He had known all those times you touched it to send out messages in morse code, to send out locations. He had known, but never let on.

“What else?” You wanted to know, if only to stall the rising trepidation in your belly. Did you compromise everyone in your team?

“Your eyes.” He said, almost breathlessly and for a moment it became difficult to maintain the eye contact. “Your eyes were such a lovely shade when I first saw you, sparkling. I love how expressive they are, how they seem to glitter. But when you wore the smart lenses, they seemed different. Maybe not to others, but to me. I knew exactly where you have flecks in your eyes, the lenses shielded them.”

You found yourself gulping as you heard him spoke, the passion in his voice thrilling you as much as it terrified you. His gaze on you had never been just analytical. It was fanciful. It was observant. He didn’t look at you like an agent, he looked at you with the hunger of a wolf.

“What do you want August?” You finally asked him, unsure what he wanted from you.

“First, I want you to take off those earrings and crush them.” He said, sitting back on his chair and raising a brow. You stiffly followed his command, pulling off your earrings and crushing the pearl on top of it with the edge of the glass, including the G.P.S tracker inside. August seemed pleased and he nodded, coming forward to take the bottle of wine and pouring you a generous amount.

“I don’t want to remove the chip as long as you promise not to touch it. The blood, it would ruin the mood wouldn’t it?” He asked while cocking his head, taking his wine glass, and clinking it with yours.

“You did not call me here do drink wine and just talk. What do you want?” You snap at him, irrigation bubbling in your gut. The twitching mustache whenever he smirked, that irked you.

He crossed his hand over his chest, licking his lips as his eyes dropped from your fiery eyes to your pursed lips, and from there to your cleavage.

“I want you to give up your mission” He said. The unsaid ‘and’ in there made you arch your brow in question. “And I want you to surrender to me.”

You leaned your elbows on the table, scrunching your nose as you said with as much venom as you could muster, “No. And no. I’d rather die than let you destroy innocent lives for your misguided idea of peace.”

The flash of teeth told you he expected that answer. Taking a sip of his wine he rolled that gulp in his mouth before swallowing, your eyes following the movement of this Adam’s apple.

“Well then, we negotiate.” He offers and pointedly looks at your wine glass. You touch it lightly with his and gulp in a mouthful, trying to keep your nerves steady. This was still your battlefield; you could still win.

“You want to negotiate a terrorist attack?” You asked him with the smallest of smile, and he returned you a bigger one.

“Call it a proposition. I’ll stand back on the attack as long as you agree to surrender to me”.

You blinked, confused, and caught off guard. You drowned your wine, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

“And by surrender you mean?”

You knew what he meant. He had admitted to you that he was watching you. He spoke to you like he knew you. His eyes raked over your figure in a way that seemed to go deeper than the skin. You watch him stand up and come over to your side, sitting on the table edge in front of you.

“You know what I mean. I want your complete surrender. You have five minutes to decide.” The amused tilt to his voice raised your hackles and you nervously looked over your shoulder.

“Five minutes?” You asked and he chuckled.

“You had to have known that your wine had poison in it.”

You stood up from your chair so fast it toppled. You glanced at your empty wine glass and then to August. Was he lying? But even as you toyed with that thought you could feel sweat building above your lip and hairline, breathing getting just a tad bit harder. Your eyes widened and you stuck a finger down your throat, trying to vomit.

“Won’t help, its already in your blood. You just need to decide if you’d rather be mine or rather be dead.” August said, just sitting and watching your frantic movements. You panted, eyes closing as you fought to think clearly. It was not a difficult decision to make. You opened your eyes, glaring at him as he played with a small vial of what you were sure was the antidote.

“Well sweetness, what will it be? Me, or the cold arms of death?” He asked.

You walked up to him, taking hold of his lapels to pull him closer and slapped him hard.

“You bastard.” You spat. “Give me the antidote.”

You reached for the small glass bottle, but August pushed you away with a firm hand on your shoulder. He looked mischievous, your suffering a source of amusement for him.

“Not so fast.” He tutted. “You need to surrender sweetness, and the first thing to go will be that pride.”

With that, he unbuckled his belt and quickly undid the button on his pants, eyes on you the whole time. You watched in bafflement as he lowered his boxers to bring out his semi-erect cock from within, a closed fist stroking it slowly.

“On your knees.” He commanded, and with a flick of his finger snapped open the bottle and poured some antidote on his now hard cock. “You don’t have much time. You want to live? Get down on your knees and suck.”

The burning in your lungs increased both with the poison and humiliation as you sank down to your knees, the will to live making you waste little time to come forward and put your mouth around him. Your tongue laved at him, catching the bitter essence of the antidote, and eagerly looking for more. He let you do it your way for a while before fisting your hair and jerking you hard, forcing his tool deep inside your mouth.

You moaned as he stretched your lips around himself, the girth of him too wide for comfort. You tried to breath through your nose, tongue moving around for the left-over antidote sticking on his skin.

“Suck sweetness, suck like you mean it. Your world depends on how good you put that mouth to use.” He said groaning, thrusting in your mouth with vigor. You did as he commanded, hollowing your cheeks, and sucking gently, swirling your tongue as you bobbed your head. You pulled away, gasping, and then poking at his slit with your tongue, tasting his musky precum.

August pulled you up by your neck, pushing and moving behind until you fell and landed on the soft mattress of the bed. He climbed over you, pants discarded and shirt unbuttoned, a maniac gleam in his lust blown eyes.

“Please, the antidote.” You begged. You hated pleading but you love breathing more. As you reached out a hand, August took it in his and kissed your fingers before kissing the inside of your wrist. You shivered, his gentle caresses making you respond despite your revulsion.

He brough the antidote to his own mouth, taking in a mouthful and then lowered his mouth to yours. You parted your lips, allowing him to transfer the life saving liquid into your mouth and you swallowed. His tongue invaded your mouth, swirling inside and your hands grabbed his shoulder and hair, pulling him closer. The possibility of dying had you clinging to the only source in this room that made you feel alive in this moment.

“I hate you!” You mumbled against his lips, pulling on his mustache with your teeth and he chuckled. His hands lowered the straps of your dress, lips following to suck a mark into your skin.

“You can hate me, but you cannot leave me. Your precious world stays intact, as long as you do what I say.”

You let him take control, moans spilling from your mouth unbidden at the pleasure he wrecked on your mind and body. You slyly moved your hand down, letting it drag down your side along the slit in your dress to grasp your thigh holster. August’s hand reached the knife strapped to your thigh just as yours did, his lips smiling against your skin as he grabbed it.

“Oh sweetness, you wring my heart with your strength.” He locked his gaze on yours, using your own knife to cut your dress in the middle and bare you to his eyes. The small scars that you received over the years in your service littered your body, and you groaned when he traced them softly.

As his bare body folded over yours, you let your thoughts fly away. You surrendered to his whims and your basic nature, nails digging in his back as he held you close and entered you slowly. You moved in tandem, meeting every one of hit thrusts with a raise of your hips, lips molded over his and curses flowing between both of you.

The ridges of his cock scratched your walls and made you whimper, the sheer size of him taking away your breath. You felt so full, full of August. In that moment, he occupied your body and your thoughts. Your hands roamed his sweaty body, heels digging in his strong back as he powered into you. The delicious burn of his beard left red scratches around your nipples and neck, his hands holding you tight enough to burn their shape in your body.

You convulsed around him, his finger mashing your clit making you soar over the cliff and fall into a valley of pleasure, lightning bolts racing across your back. He was still thrusting, forcing you to look at him as he emptied inside you. As he rolled over and you caught your breath, he tossed you the remaining antidote which you gulped swiftly.

You watched him pant, his hairy chest glistening with sweat. The raw power of his body, the pleasure he just delivered both embarrassed and excited you. You knew you must surrender, must compromise yourself if that was what would take for the world to survive.

“You may own my body, even my mind at times. But don’t think I’ll ever surrender my heart.” You told him and he laughed, reaching over to hold your arm in his, pressing a soft kiss first to both your cheeks and then lips.

“You know I can’t resist a challenge sweetness.” He said. You watched in fascinated horror as his fingers hovered over your tattoo, looking at you with glittering eyes. He tapped out a short message that made your heart stutter and then your knife was pressed into your skin, digging deep to pull out the chip as your screamed.

She’s Mine

His bloody fingers cupped your face, pulling you closer to nuzzle you in his warmth.

“Just surrender to me, and the world will wake up to see another day.”

+++++

Tags: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @agniavateira

#august walker x reader #dark!august walker x reader #august x reader #henry cavill x reader #dark!henry cavill x reader #august walker #henry cavill

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

If he's lucky I'll let him join

Part 7: Yes. No. Maybe…

Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this out. This is the second last chapter, the finale piece will be out Wednesday evening.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smut fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids) oral (male receiving), angst

Word Count: 4200

May 15

“Shhh baby don’t want them to hear,” he whispers. His fingers dig harshly into your hips only cause you to moan louder.

“Don’t worry man I got it,” Fred says, pulling your jaw down and shoving his dick inside your mouth. Your breath is pulled from your lungs and your moan get caught around him while he starts to thrust in, his salty precum landing on your tongue.

“Hey,” Steph greets, wrapping an arm around you. “Y/N right?” she questions, giving Fred a hug.

“Yeah,” you confirm, removing your shoes to add to the growing pile by the door.

“Come in, some people are out back but almost everyone is down the hall.”

Fred’s hand is on your back, gently steering you down the hall. The regular season ended and they have a few days off before the start of round 1 against the Canadians. With this time Mitch and Steph are hosting a barbeque for the team and their families. A chance for everyone to have some fun and take it easy before the playoffs start and everything gets crazy with games and practices.

You met a portion of the WAG’s last year, but it’s been over 16 months since you’ve seen them. And there is also a bunch of new players which means new face and names to learn. Though not everyone on the team has come out today. Fred brought you as his date, but Auston is here as well. It’s the first time you have been in the presence of both men without having sex or being able to touch, even flirt with Auston. But it’s only for a couple hours.

The sun is shining, temperature over 20°C, no wind and barely a single cloud in the sky. It’s an amazing day for early May. Auston has on simple navy t-shirt, his arms on full display. Tattooed biceps and the chain poking out under the hem of his shirt, backwards ball cap on his dark curls. He smiles upon seeing you, but continues on his conversation with Mitch and William.

You’re thankful for the laughter and music that disguises the moan slipping through your lips. It’s soft and subtle, something most people but wouldn’t pick up on, but Fred does. He wraps an arm around your waist, lips gently brushing against your forehead while he chuckles lightly.

“Want a drink skat,” he hums fingers gently playing with your belt loop. His hand slides down and he briefly and softly gives your ass a squeeze. “Frederik,” you scold into his chest trying to not draw attention.

“So that’s not okay, but you eye fucking Auston from across the room is,” he mumbles into your ear. Burying your face into his chest, you try to allow the heat from your cheeks to fade before you finally pull away.

Fred has known for almost a month about you and Auston. Apart from his comments when you were pinned between him and Auston’s door, he hasn’t said anything to you. You didn’t expect him to say much that night, but you thought he would bring it up at some point over the last 4 weeks.

After the threesome he seemed somewhat upset. The Leafs had a week at home, and he seemed somewhat distant. He didn’t call you on the Friday or Saturday, on the Sunday he sent a couple texts. When you saw him on Monday he apologized, said he had a setback in his recovery; that he thought he’d be back playing by that point and was frustrated by it, but everything seemed to be fine after that.

A few days the Leafs left on a ten day road trip out west. Fred joined the team, and true to his word Auston asked you to watch Felix. 10 days of walks, kisses and snuggles. Dog sitting also came with you sending him multiple pictures a day and even a few Facetimes, but you think those Facetimes were more an excuse for him to talk to you.

You contemplated keeping him forever, but reluctantly handed the leash back when they returned. Auston of course paid you with multiple orgasms; just the two of you. Since they returned from the road trip you have had a couple nights with just Auston, some with just Fred, and multiple threesomes. Apart from their road games you have spent 2 maybe 3 nights alone in your own bed. Every other night has been at one of their condos.

It’s an easy and fun night at Mitch’s.

It’s not a crazy party like the previous year. Everyone is drinking at a slower rate, spending more time on conversations than on party games. Mitch spends most of the afternoon over the barbecue, Steph busying around in house refilling drinks and setting out some food. There is a buzz as everyone eagerly awaits the playoffs. An excitement abound, the hope and potential that comes with the post season. But not just any post season, a Leafs – Canadians matchup.

It’s a good afternoon, and you’re enjoying yourself. But it would be better if Auston wasn’t shooting you winks from across the room, constantly looking at you over the rim of his glass. He is doing absolutely nothing, just existing, and you barely can contain yourself.

Every wink, every smirk, every breath he takes your panties dampen even more.

If that wasn’t enough Fred is never too far from you. When you’re talking to Steph he was beside Auston grinning at you. When grabbing some veggies and dip he softly trailed a finger over your forearm. Later when talking with Tessa and Morgan, he came up beside you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. His cologne and soft touch, Auston’s lingering glances and boisterous laugh echoing through the room are enough to make your knees give out. The two of them getting you very excited for what is going to happen once you leave later tonight.

Walking up to the drink table you feel a body approach you and your body stiffens, hairs on the nape of your neck standing up. “Having fun y/n,” Auston mumbles in your ear.

“Mhm,” you respond lightly, trying to distract yourself but his woodsy cologne overtakes your senses.

“I like your dress,” he hums, reaching over you for some ice, even though there is an abundance in his glass already. Your breath hitches when his forearm ever so slightly grazes your breast; his lips curling up in the process. Glancing to your side you spot Fred, engaged in a conversation with Mitch but still keeping a watchful eye on you.

Tipping his glass to you, you almost fall over. Fumbling to set your drink down you mutter something about the bathroom. Stepping in the bathroom your entire body is hot and clammy. Knuckles go white from clenching the cool marble, staring down to the sink you take some uneasy breaths.

Trying to gather yourself you realize it’s a lost cause, you won’t get any relief until you leave. Until you get back to their building and they provide you with some. You and Fred have snuck away at a party before, but this is not the scene. That night involved a lot more alcohol, the guests were loud but you could barely hear them over the echoing music. Today is slower, calmer. People are more so enjoying their time together with the occasional drink.

And sneaking off with Auston would be even worse. People could notice your absence, but it adds the worry of people finding out your sleeping with both Fred and Auston. They might think it’s a polyamorous relationship, or they might judge you for your decision to have a threesome. Either way you don’t want to deal with the repercussions.

Just another couple hours. A couple hours making idle small talk and then you can ride Fred, while Auston’s dick is deep down your throat. Just a couple hours until the ache between your legs is filled. So you take a deep breath, throw some water on your face and step into the hall flattening the wrinkles on your dress.

Starting the trek down the hall you pass by an open bedroom and a large hand grips your forearm pulling you inside. Catching a glimpse of the tattoos you feel hot breath fan over your neck. His large body pressed up against you has the slick building between your legs.

“Auston,” you moan, craning your neck slightly, “we can’t. Not here.”

“You think you can dress like that baby girl and get away with it?”

It’s a relatively simple summer dress. White with thick 1” straps and a straight squared off neck. The bodice is tight, ending on your thigh with a simple floral design. “God I wanted to bury my cock in you since the second you walked through the door.”

Sucking hard on your exposed skin he kicks your legs apart, slowly drawing two fingers up the inside of your thigh. Starting above your knee, slipping under the hem of your dress until he slides them under your thin lace. “Oh baby I think you’ve wanted this all day too,” he groans coating it in your dampness.

Pressing your fabric to the side two fingers dance around your entrance, drawing circles on your clit. A whimper slips through your lips and you feel his fingers curl inside you. “Aus,” you groan, through a few thrusts of his digits, “there’s people.”

Your mind is swirling, bouncing between desire and reason. Your cheeks heat, from both the alcohol and the deviant act that looms ominously in the air. You know this is a terrible idea, there are fifty ways this goes wrong but his large frame pressed against yours, his mouth sucking and nipping your neck, fingers spreading you open more and more each thrust, you can’t say no.

“We gotta be quick,” you push his chest making him take a few steps back. Walking to the edge of the, you pull your dress up, fabric bunching at your waist.

A deep seeded chuckle fills the air, followed by his belt buckle opening and jeans being shoved down his thighs. Bending you over the end of the bed, his hands are on your hips his length sliding in your heat. Trying to contain your moans you bite down on your lower lip, the taste of copper flooding your mouth. But it doesn’t help.

“Ssh, baby girl, you gotta be quiet,” Auston chuckles softly against you after a particularly hard thrust, your hands grabbing a fist full of the duvet. “Wouldn’t want anyone to find out we’re in here, would we? Catch you with my cock buried deep in your pussy while Freddie is outside.”

“Oh fuck—” His thrust hits just right, pelvis perfectly angled against your g-spot. Your belly swells with heat and your eyes flutter shut, unable to keep them open for a second longer.

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” A voice mutters from a distance as the door closes. Your eyes go wide realizing Auston never locked the door, anybody could have wandered in.

“Y/N really wanted to get started,” Auston slows his hips but keeps his cock deep inside your walls, gently rolling his hips.

“Yeah, y/n,” Fred chuckles. When you turn your head slightly to look at him you see he has a dark grin plastered on his face. Walking towards you he winks and Auston digs his hands into your waist, pulling you until you are standing; your back against his chest.

“Is that true baby?” Fred tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “you couldn’t wait?”

Staring at the smug look on Fred’s face you get the idea this was planned by the two of them. Whether they planned it once they got here or days ago it all seems very convenient. Before you can focus too hard on it, Auston slowly pushes forward, not stopping until your ass hits his thighs. His hand begins to lightly trail across your stomach, grazing your nipple in the process. Biting your bottom lip you struggle to supress a moan, which only makes him laugh.

“I asked you a question baby” he repeats, fingers hovering dangerously close to your clit.

“Yes,” you gasp following a deep thrust. All you want to do is wipe that smug expression off his face, but before you can Auston’s mouth is on the back of your neck.

“Shit,” you moan, causing Fred to laugh after a particularly harsh thrust.

“Shhh baby don’t want them to hear,” Auston whispers. His fingers dig harshly into your hips only cause you to moan louder.

You have no time to react before both men are setting fast paces. Your nails find Fred’s thick thighs for stability trying not to gag as he hits the back of your throat. One of Auston’s hands snakes around to your clit, at the same time Fred is pulling your hair away from your face. You can feel your orgasm quickly approaching, the familiar tingling in your core.

“Fuck princess,” Auston grunts, beginning to get sloppy. Moaning around Fred’s length, he uses you for his need. Chasing his high both of their hips snap at the same time, pushing you closer to your high.

“Your mouth feels so good skat,” Fred groans as Auston’s thumb starts pressing harder into your sensitive bud seeking out your high. The sounds you’re making can only be described as pornographic. Forgetting there is a house full of people meters away, you fall victim to your pleasure.

Auston helps you to stand as Fred brings a towel and wipes his cum from your chin and chest. But before he can clean between your legs Auston swats his hand away. Gripping the fabric of your dress he pushes it down your sticky thighs. Lips ghosting over your ear his voice is dark as husky he groans, “I want you to think of me as you feel my cum drip down your legs while you talk to our friends.”

You shudder at the thought, but Fred’s lips are quickly on yours. The little bit of oxygen you had in your lungs is ripped from you, the kiss is full of passion and hunger. His hands trail down your body before he finds your hands, “ready?” he mumbles through a breath.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling against his lips.

Giving your hand a light squeeze he pulls you to the door, when it flings open, Steph and Audrey on the other side. They both blink staring at you, but it’s not until their eyes see Auston readjusting his pants behind you their jaws drop. Shifting their gaze between you and Fred and Auston they are trying to process if they actually are seeing it right.

“I am so sorry,” Steph blurts out, her cheeks going red. Stepping back they close it behind them and you can immediately hear them cackling on the other side.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice barely audible.

“Its fine,” Fred squeezes your hand, your heart rate building.

“WHAT?” you snap bringing your gaze to meet his. “How can you say –“

“Hey,” Auston calls out. Coming in front of you he tilts your head forcing you to stare are him. “It’s not a big deal, people have sex y/n.”

“But –“

“No, no buts,” he uses a thumb to wipe away some mascara that had run down your cheek. “You will be fine, everything will be fine. Now were gonna go back out there and-“

“I am NOT going back out there,” you interject.

“Yes we are, leaving will only be worse,” Fred says softly. “Everyone will talk the second we walk out the door.”

“We’ll stay for like an hour, and then go back. You can cuddle up with Felix. We’ll watch whatever shitty chick flick you want, do tequila shots, whatever you want after. But right now we have to go out there. We weren’t doing anything wrong, we have no reason to hide or be embarrassed.”

Mulling over his words you sigh knowing they aren’t going to budge, “okay.”

A half smile tugs on Auston’s lips and he leans in placing a soft but brief kiss on your lips. His mustache tickles your upper lip but he pulls away and heads out of the room first. Waiting a minute, allowing you time to compose yourself, Fred pulls you out of the room.

Walking down the hall you can hear Mitch laughing at something outside. Fred drapes an arm over your shoulders and gently presses his lips to your head, smiling down at you. Your body becomes numb, if it wasn’t for Fred tugging you outside you would be frozen in place. Feet unable to move.

Walking outside you feel like all eyes are on you. They aren’t, but it feels that way.

Auston, Will and Morgan are off to the side laughing about something. He shoots you a grin before continuing on with his conversation. Fred pulls you to one of the outside couches. Trying to put you at ease he slings one arm around your shoulder, you tucked tightly under his arm.

You can smell his overpriced cologne, you can feel his fingers gently trailing over your shoulder and you can hear his voice. But none of it pulls you out from your trance. Your walls feel like they are tightening around you and you are quickly losing oxygen.

“Y/N,” Fred squeezes your shoulder.

“Hmm?” you head snaps to see him.

“Mitch asked if you wanted a drink,” Fred smiles with a soft smile.

“Probably thirsty after your earlier activities,” you hear someone sneer, glancing to the side you see Steph, Audrey, Bianca, along with a few other WAGS. Some seem confused by the comment, but the vast majority have narrowed eyes and grins plastered on their faces.

“Uh no, I’m okay,” you lie. Your throat is dry, not from Fred’s cock slamming into the back of it, but from your anxiety building. You would love a drink, but what you really want is to leave. You just need to get away. It feels like everybody has eyes on you, you keep thinking you overhear people whispering your name. Fred carries on as if nothing happened, chatting with Mitch, laughing at something Zach said. Maybe it’s his way of downplaying it, or it’s his way of trying to reassure you, but it doesn’t work.

It’s a quiet drive, Auston and Fred chatting in the front. You melt into the backseat, staring aimlessly out the window. You don’t even recognize where you are until you are parked in the underground garage. The second the car stops you are gone, heading to the elevator.

Pressing the up button about fifty time the doors finally open and you step in, both men behind you. Staring to the ceiling you blink a few times, trying to suppress your tears.

“You coming?” Fred asks when the door opens to his floor.

“In a minute,” you sniffle. “I want to see Felix first.”

“Kay,” Fred smiles lightly. Taking a small step forward, he hesitantly leans down and places a warm kiss on your cheek before stepping off the elevator.

“I have couches,” Auston laughs seeing you on the floor. Felix curled between your legs as you slowly pet him, warm tears rolling down your cheeks. You don’t reply, continuing to slowly rub Felix’s fur. Hands grab your legs and he pulls you against his chest and making his way to the couch.

Placing you on the couch, he falls beside you, pulling you against him. That’s when it happens, the floodgates open. His grip tightens on you while your chest heaves as you dissolve into a git of tears. He tries to calm you, talking is a soothing tone in your ear. Choking on your tears, Auston just holds you, your hands clenching his shirt.

“Hey,” Auston smiles, handing you a steaming mug. You don’t know when you stopped crying or how long you were asleep for, but the night sky is flooding the room. Apart from the stove light and one lamp in the corner the entire room is dark, empty, a feeling you know too well.

“Thanks,” your voice cracks slightly. Sitting beside you, he pulls you up onto his lap, your head falling on his shoulder. Felix takes the opportunity to curl up beside you, he head beside your hand so you can slowly scratch his head.

“Don’t worry,” he finally says after a few minutes of silence. “They aren’t allowing anyone at the playoff games for now, so you won’t have to see them for a bit.”

“That doesn’t –“

“It does matter, they will forget about it by the next time you see them,” he runs his hand up and down his large sweater hanging off your frame. You want to believe him, but the pit in your stomach only gets bigger by the second. Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a few deep breaths. Silence falling over you.

“What are you doing this summer?” He asks, trying to pull you from your stupor.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, not interested in his small talk. “I had a few interviews these past couple weeks, if I get it then the last 2 weeks of August I’ll be at the school planning. Spend some time with friends, and family maybe, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Sounds exciting,” he laughs.

“Mhm,” you agree. “You?”

“I’ll be in Arizona once the season ends, but hopefully that’s not for a while,” he replies. “But just hang out with friends, family. I think my mom wants to go on a family trip somewhere.”

“Nice,” you breathe out.

“Yeah,” he trails of slightly. “Maybe you could come down for a weekend.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you dismiss. You are barely in the mood to talk, let alone make plans for two months from now, “if the border opens.”

“If not I have my Visa, I could come up we could go somewhere for a weekend. Whistler, Banff,” he suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“My sisters would love you,” he chuckles.

Silence once again falls on you. You assume Auston believes you are just upset from earlier, and you are. But mainly you are mulling over his offer. You don’t do that. You don’t go on dates. You aren’t dating. You have sex. Yes you cuddle, you talk, and you have sleepovers. You watch movies, and have dinner, you have even confided in him. But everything leads to sex.

“Why would your sisters love me?” you ask harshly. “Have you told them about me?”

“No,” he laughs. “Just that you’re awesome, I can’t see the not liking you.”

“But why would I meet them?” you bite, pushing off of him. Felix’s head pops up briefly from the commotion before he lies back down beside Auston. “Why would you introduce me to your family? Why would you introduce your family to someone you are just fucking?” you bite.

“Y/N seriously?” he questions, eyes grazing over your face while his body stiffens. “You’re not just someone I’m fucking, at least not to me. I don’t think you ever were someone I was just fucking.”

Standing up he grabs your hand closing the gap between your bodies. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this?” he questions softly. You can’t match his gaze, knowing you will crumble under it. You can’t process what he is saying because it’s a lot. You never thought about a relationship with Auston, maybe it had crossed your mind once, but you have been so caught up in your feelings for Fred, his feelings for you, that you never considered Auston.

“I uh-“ you bring a hand up to wipe away a stray tear. “I gotta go,” you whisper. Pulling away you practically run to the door.

“He doesn’t want you,” he calls out as you reach the door. Letting go of the handle you turn around, Auston still in the middle of the living room, the exact spot you left him. “You’re going to see him? Fred?” he queries, sensing your next move. Your face contorts and you take a deep breath preparing for his next words.

“I know him, he’s not interested like that, not anymore,” Auston says lightly.

Anymore.

That words stings. When did Fred stop losing interest? Was it when you had the first threesome, or the second? When did he stop wanting you, and how didn’t you notice?

“You’re wrong,” you say yanking the door open and heading down the hall. He is wrong, it has to be. Needs to be.

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skandarismyturkishdelight · 3 years

Text

I Despise You (Part 8) - Edmund x Reader

Warnings: none

Characters: Edmund, Lucy, Peter and Susan Pevensie and (Y/N)

Setting: The Golden Age, Narnia

Blurb (???i think???): (requested by @alwaysinnarnia)The reader is a Swordswoman/Knight of Doorn and visits Narnia, soon getting off on the wrong hand with King Edmund. She stays in Narnia and they train together, and they become friends and maybe something more…

Tag List: @aisforaltamoda @sanya-gryff @wantingtobekorra @sweetpeasturtleneck @suruhcha @foreverfangirling123 @fosterthe-peter @expellimarvelous @fandoms-allovertheplace @irreplaceable-ecstasy @fiftyshadesofnarnia @heyohheyitsgabi @nimaiwe @thellamaisinthehouse @hopebaker @a-studying-narnian-demigod @margot-black @fangirled-101 @aisforaltamoda @ajediherowitchrunner @spinning-oysters @hopebaker @just-my-weirdness-and-i @fandom-writer642 @xcyber-queenx @disfunctionalcrab @changing-constantly @answer-the-sirens @wildflowersrm @lizziel1410 @hocus-pocus-i-dont-focus @torisecrets @mya-bleu @hunnybunimdun @andycanbeemotional @lady-miidnight @writingweirdness413 @just-my-weirdness-and-i

(sorry if I missed anyone!! Also, there are some accounts I’ve attempted to tag but it doesn’t seem to fully work - please let me know if it did! Also please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the tag list! ❤️)

“...and have the supplies out by the end of the month,” Peter said, dragging a finger across the map before (Y/N) to gesture to Tashbaan’s port. “it’ll take around four months for the iron and oil supplies to arrive.“

Yaro nodded, his hands braced on the edges of the wide table. “With the King and Queen now increasing the mining and production work in the country, Doorn will surely have their products delivered to Tashbaan a little while after Cair Paravel’s shipment would have arrived.”

The High King and Yaro looked up to (Y/N) who had a stern look on her face as she crossed her arms.

She nodded. “There’ll still be a spare month before their deadline. It may work in our favor if something goes wrong-”

“It won’t,” Peter stated confidently. “Everything will go according to plan.”

(Y/N) sighed, letting her arms fall to her side. It was a relief that she didn’t have to go back home yet, especially with the Knight’s meeting just around the corner. (Y/N) couldn’t shake off the crawling feeling of anxiety, though. The terrible thought that her family and people could be in danger terrorised her. So much so that insomnia would consume her days and follow her into the night, never allowing her a moment’s rest.

It was easier with Edmund. (Y/N) had often visited him when the moon was still shining overhead in the star-scattered sky and the woodland creatures whispered into the wind. He would give her comfort when she crawled into his bed, kissing her forehead and the spot behind her ear she had always found ticklish. He would tell her stories about his first time wondering through the wood in the summer, and how he felt when he had stepped into the castle for the first time.

Those stories made her feel warm, and there were nights when he came into her room, too. His shirt would be dampened by sweat, his voice just shy of a tremble as he lay his head onto her stomach and asked for a tale of her own. He would often fall asleep with his arm draped around her, and his soft snores lulled her into her own slumber.

Now with the meeting finished and the organisation for the iron and oil shipments were finalised, (Y/N) felt a slight weight lift from her chest. Yaro took a long look at her and sent a reassuring look when she met his eyes.

“Your Highness?” he said carefully.

(Y/N) almost smiled. Hardly anyone had called her by her formal title, and she genuinely would’ve preferred anything else than that. But now, hearing that title, it reminded her of her older brother and how he used it to mock her incessantly. It comforted her.

“I’m fine,” she said, a small smile on her face. “Thank you, Yaro.”

He nodded curtly and gave her a bow, his arms resting by his sides. (Y/N) turned to Peter who offered her a sympathetic smile and a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Your family will be okay,” he said confidently. “We will never turn away from our allies, or our friends.”

Smiling despite the tears shimmering in her eyes, (Y/N) let herself be swept up into Peter’s brief embrace. He let her go, offering a reassuring nod before she began to walk towards the exit of the war room.

Her hands automatically began to smooth out her tunic and readjust the belt hanging from her hips. She brushed her fingers over the silver dagger safely positioned at her side. Susan had gifted it to her last week for assisting with the organsation of the ball, and (Y/N) felt her chest lighten when running a hand over the hilt which was decorated with sapphire gems.

(Y/N) unsheathed it from her side as she walked down the main hallway towards her quarters. She moved the dagger skilfully between her fingers and flipped it over her hand to rest in her palm again. The cool metal tempered the anxiousness creeping in her chest and left her to focus on the movement of spinning silver.

As quickly as she had flipped the dagger into her other hand, a force hit her from the side and drove her towards the wall. She let out a grunt as the hands she knew so well had skilfully twisted the knife from her hand and held her wrist to the wall; leaving her body trapped between his.

A smile graced her lips as Edmund let out a low laugh. “Your lack of peripheral vision is concerning.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, leaning her head back against the velvety curtains that covered the sunlight. She let her free hand move to his shoulder, and up into his hair as he leaned forward to kiss her chastely. The kiss could only be returned enthusiastically, and soon, Edmund let go of her hands and wrapped his arms around her waist.

The weakness in his movements caused her to smirk into their kiss, not giving a second thought before gripping the collar of his clothing and spinning him around to press him to the wall.

Edmund shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes as he let himself smile at her antics.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” (Y/N) said, teasingly raising an eyebrow.

The dark haired king leaned forward, his breath tickling her lips. “On the contrary - this feels perfect.”

(Y/N) huffed out a laugh before taking his lips with hers again, softly and with determined slowness. Edmund wound a hand into her hair and melted into their embrace, and (Y/N) felt how rapidly his heart beat against hers.

She pulled away from the kiss to catch her breath, and Edmund‘s lips followed her to give her a light peck.

He took both her hands in his. “How was the meeting?”

(Y/N) smiled briefly, and she was sure that Edmund saw right through it and into her troubled mind.

“The shipments will arrive soon,” she said, intertwining her fingers with his. “I’m praying that it will go smoothly. My family cannot afford a war.”

Edmund’s eyes wandered across her face, pulling one of his hands from hers to caress her cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, furrowing his dark eyebrows. “Everything will be fine. If there is anyone you can trust with a task like this, it’s Peter.”

(Y/N) could only nod and lean into his warm hand, moving her face to peck his palm before giving him a tight hug. His strong arms wrapped around her and tucked her as close to his chest as possible. She breathed in his familiar woodsy scent, and she let herself smile at the faint smell of chocolate that always found its way to him.

As they heard scuffling from down the hallway, they pulled apart only to see Lucy come into view with her chin high, and her pale yellow dress swaying and sweeping across the marble floors.

“(Y/N)!” she exclaimed, rushing towards them with her eyes crinkled into a smile. “How did it go? I heard that the supplies are being shipped out soon.”

(Y/N) brushed a hair behind her ear and nodded. “You heard correctly.”

Lucy squealed and tackled (Y/N) with a hug, and Edmund chuckled at the surprise on (Y/N)’s face.

“Oh! We need to celebrate! Should I request for the kitchen to make your favourite dinner?”

“Oh, that’s alright,” (Y/N) said. “I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary.”

Lucy squeezed the young woman’s arms in response and whisked back down the hall excitedly as she called out, “I didn’t hear a no!”

Edmund pushed himself from the wall and took (Y/N)’s hand. “Come on, let’s go somewhere.”

“Oh?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Where to, my king?”

“Horse riding,” he chuckled, turning to pinch (Y/N)’s waist. “Where else would we go?”

The swordswoman rolled her eyes and smacked his hand away.

Edmund shook his head, his hair moving away from his eyes as he continued to lead the way. They walked along the east wing and descended down the marble staircase, (Y/N)’s hand running along the smooth handrail.

She found herself being pulled to an abrupt stop by Edmund, who took one more step as he focused on a middle aged man standing at the end of the stairs. He wasn’t burly, but he looked strong. His broad shoulders and chest were clad with armour, and a shiny helmet was tucked under his right arm. Dark green eyes flicked up to (Y/N), who also took another step down to stand in line with Edmund.

Edmund spoke first after a tense silence. “Lord Rami.”

The man took a step forward, his eyes still searching (Y/N) and Edmund’s faces. Something in his gaze told (Y/N) that the man didn’t seem too keen on having kind conversation. He didn’t seem to want to address Edmund’s existence.

“Forgive me, Lord Rami,” she spoke out, calmly. “But King Edmund is addressing you. It is only common courtesy for you to respond.”

His cold eyes lay on her, and she felt her skin prickle as he scanned her from head to toe.

“King Edmund,” he said quietly before bowing briefly. “It is an honour to be in your presence.”

Lord Rami turned to (Y/N) again. “And you, milady?”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” she stated. “Knight and Princess of Doorn.”

Trying to keep her face as stoic as possible, (Y/N) tilted her head up as Lord Rami bowed once more.

“Forgive me,” he responded to her. “I must make my way to my quarters.”

The man slowly began to ascend up the staircase, and with one final look at the pair of them, he continued on his way and disappeared as he turned a corner.

(Y/N) tightened her fist and let it go in an attempt to settle her nerves, and she turned to Edmund who seemed to be doing the same, but with a flick of fury in his dark eyes. He clenched his jaw and looked back up to where the man had been, almost as though he was expecting him to reappear.

“Ed,” (Y/N) said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Ed, are you alright?”

He stayed quiet and took a long look at her before continuing to walk down the stairs.

“Who was he?” she asked, feeling quite ridiculous because of her cluelessness.

“No one,” he said quietly.

(Y/N) continued to follow him as he turned left at the staircase and down another hallway, opposite the exit towards the stables.

“Let’s still go on that horse ride,” she said earnestly, moving closer to him. “It’ll get your mind off of whatever you’re thinking.”

Edmund stopped abruptly and worked his hands through his hair. “I don’t need a horse ride.”

“Then what do you need?” She didn’t want to pry it out of him, but she needed to know. “Edmund, what did he-”

“I just need some peace and quiet,” he interrupted, hands falling to his sides. “Can you give me that?”

(Y/N)’s immediate reaction was to scoff. “You’ve never given that to me, so why should I do the same?”

Edmund turned to her, his dark eyes gleaming. “You can never give anyone a moment’s rest, can you?”

“Ed, I just want to know-”

“But I don’t want you to know!” He said, his voice raising. “Stop asking, stop pushing, just stop! Some things are better left unsaid, but that isn’t enough for you! You have this habit of pecking your nose into things that clearly don’t concern you.”

(Y/N)’s heart sank, and her words of comfort died on her tongue. His tone of geniune impatience and fury was one she hadn’t heard in a while. She pressed her lips together, angry at the painful words he spewed, but she grew even angrier when she felt tears prickle at her eyes.

“You’re so ungrateful, you know that?” She retaliated. “And frankly, you’re quite stupid for not thinking that I’m asking you all this because I want to help you. Not everyone here is trying to attack you, Edmund!”

Edmund stepped closer to her, his eyes dark and challenging. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“You’re right, I don’t - so help me understand. Or I’m not going to waste my time chasing you around trying to figure you out. You have a family that loves you but you never focus on that! At any sign of conflict, you lash out; just like you’re doing now! Like a child!”

He moved past her and continued down the hall, not looking back as he made his way to his quarters. (Y/N) took a deep breath a wiped away any evidence of the tears that formed in her eyes. She spun around and headed towards the exit of the castle, suddenly missing the feeling of Edmund and his warmth beside her.

A couple of hours had gone by since (Y/N)’s return from her ride, and nothing about her mood had changed in the slightest. She fidgeted with the book in her hands, the words not processing in her mind due to all the anger that clouded it.

“It’s Edmund, isn’t it?” Susan asked, looking at (Y/N) from across the room with a book of her own on her lap.

Susan had spotted (Y/N) riding in the woods and it didn’t take her much to figure out she was basically losing her mind. (Y/N) wanted to be alone at first, but she realised how much Susan had helped in trying to get her mind off of Edmund’s angry outburst. The high queen hadn’t asked questions, or pressed for answers; she just rode around with (Y/N) for a couple of hours before they returned at dusk.

(Y/N) sat up, pulling her hair behind her shoulders and closing the book she barely read. “He’s stupid.”

“Oh, we know that,” commented Susan. “What did he do this time?”

Waving her hand impatiently in the air, (Y/N) let the frustration pour out in a wave of almost incomprehensible words. “He was angry at me for no reason! I really thought we were more than fine now, but when something doesn’t go his way - he just lashes out! I was clearly trying to help him when he got all bothered and upset after seeing Lord Rami arrive-”

“Lord Rami?” Susan interrupted, closing her book slowly. “He’s arrived?”

(Y/N) nodded, and Susan sighed frustratedly before leaning back with her hands covering her face.

“I knew something would go wrong,” she said through muffled hands. “He wasn’t meant to come this year.”

“Who’s Lord Rami?” (Y/N) asked.

“A noble from Arnchenland...”

Susan stood by the nearest window and looked out at the sky that began to darken, the faintest of pink and orange dusting the horizon. Her thumb was between her teeth as she turned and gave (Y/N) a worried look.

“This meeting won’t go well,” She stated.

(Y/N) simply watched Susan walk quickly to peer down the library’s exit before standing next to the couch (Y/N) was seated on.

“Lord Rami and Edmund had gotten into...an altercation.”

The swordswoman raised an eyebrow at the queen as she continued, “Edmund had made a comment about how the alliance between Archenland and Narnia was dissipating overtime - a fair observation, might I add. He knew that after Lord Rami had gotten more power over lands ruled by Archenland, he might have tried to take some of our own. Lord Rami retaliated, and of course so did Edmund.”

Susan took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her temple. “And then he had brought up what had happened in the past...with Edmund.”

(Y/N) unconsciously grimaced, standing up slowly and putting the book down. She stood closer to Susan with her arms folded.

“He kept blabbering on, and on, and on...about the White Witch...how Ed...”

Susan shook her head and (Y/N) put a hand out to touch her shoulder.

“Edmund knows what he did. He knows. But he’s learnt...so much. He’s changed. And it’s awful that only we know how much he has - there are some people in the palace that still can’t trust him. He thinks we don’t know, Peter, Lucy, and I, but we do. We truly do.”

(Y/N) pulled in Susan for a quick hug, and the queen immediately reciprocated. (Y/N) loosened her grasp on Susan’s arms as they separated.

“You should see how he is,” (Y/N) said.

“But-”

“You’ve known him your entire life,” she replied, hoping her confident voice was enough to mask the hurt in her eyes. “You’ll know what to say.”

Susan was now holding the swordswoman’s hands, tightening her grip for a brief moment before letting go and breathing deeply. (Y/N) knew she couldn’t do much except wish Susan a good evening and watch her disappear out of the library.

(Y/N) knew that it wasn’t her place to interfere with such situations. There was no possible way that she would be able to comfort him like his siblings would, and it amazed her quite a lot how much they cared for one another. Of course, her own siblings did show their affection every now and then, but not like the Kings and Queens of Narnia. It seemed as though they would pour out their whole heart to each other, and in the end, they knew that everything would all be alright.

She couldn’t help but think of how Edmund might act now. She worried that with Lord Rami here, his patience with her purposefully annoying antics would run short, and he would not treat her the same. (Y/N) wiped her hands along her trousers and then tucked a few stray hairs behind her ears. She needed to calm down a little. She let her feet take her to exit of the library and ascend the nearest staircase, not realising how much her legs had ached from horse riding until she had reached the top step.

Her leather boots clicked softly on the tiled floor as she made her way to her chambers, the familar intricate paintings and detailed rug that lay outside her door welcomed her. She entered with a long sigh and shut the door quietly behind her, peeling her clothes off and throwing them off to the side. She was too tired to take a bath right now, so she settled for washing her face and putting on her nightgown.

(Y/N) tugged her hair down from its tight knot and massaged her scalp as she collapsed onto her soft bed. Her long day began to catch up to her as her eyelids grew heavy, and as she lazily promised herself she would get up in an hour to check on Edmund, sleep had already begun to wrap around her mind. She let her hand fall from her scalp and nuzzled her nose into her pillow, and only seconds later did she fall into a deep slumber.

“(Y/N)?”

A quiet voice called out to her softly, stirring her awake. (Y/N) frowned in confusion, taking a moment to wake herself up. She blinked a few times and the first thing she noticed was that the room was almost pitch black. The sun had obviously set, and a soft breeze was circling the room, tickling (Y/N)’s bare legs.

The next thing she noticed was the person sitting up in her bed and their one hand that was laying on her calf, stroking the skin there softly with their thumb. (Y/N) immediately brought herself to sit up as Edmund shifted away and let his hand fall into his lap. Her stomach was swarming with nervous butterflies as she tried to make out the expression on his face.

“Edmund?” she began, watching Edmund as his eyes went from his lap to her eyes, the simple move giving her goosebumps. “Are you okay?”

Edmund nodded slowly and brought his hand to scratch the back of his head. “Can I stay?”

(Y/N)’s heart fluttered, and her mind reeled back to when he appeared in her room for the first time in the middle of the night. The moonlight had illuminated his terror-stricken face, with a sheen of sweat on his neck and chest. She had welcomed him into her arms without hesitation.

But, this time was different. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, and they roamed across Edmund’s face, she noticed a wetness around his eyes. She uncovered herself from the sheets and moved to the edge of the bed beside him.

(Y/N) guided a hand to his freckled cheek, letting it hover for a moment before resting it on his icy skin. At the sound of his soft sigh, her stomach twisted and she felt tears of her own prickle at her eyes. She swiped her thumb under his eye and Edmund’s tears met her soft hand.

Immediately, Edmund broke. A fresh stream of tears ran down his cheeks as he let out a quiet whimper and brought his hands to his face. (Y/N) didn’t wait any longer before sitting up on her knees and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him towards her tightly. He responded just as quickly, his arms enveloping her torso as he cried into her nightgown. She brought her lips to the top of his head and closed her eyes, her tears falling into his hair.

(Y/N) let him cry, and soon his cries turned to sobs. His shoulders shook as he swallowed deep breaths, muttering things that she couldn’t comprehend. Her stomach had dropped down to her feet as he began to apologise; over, and over again, with his face burying deeper into her chest. A couple of minutes passed, accompanied by Edmund’s cries and the soft whistling noise that the wind made. When she felt him loosen his grip on her, (Y/N) brought her hands to both sides of his face and pulled his head from her body so that she could meet his eyes.

His bloodshot eyes met her own.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, shaking his head slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that to you, I should’ve held my tongue. I just...I got so angry. I didn’t mean any of it-”

(Y/N) began to hush him as more tears began to pool in his eyes. She pushed his silky hair out of his face and wiped the rest of his tears away.

“I know, I know,” she began as she sniffled. “It’s okay...Ed, it’s okay. I’m so sorry. For everything. I never meant any of it either.”

Edmund shook his head and brought his hands to (Y/N)‘s face. Silence danced between them as they caught their breaths.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, smoothing down the young woman’s tousled hair.

(Y/N) brought her hands to his tunic and pulled him in to place a soft kiss on his lips. He kissed her back, his chapped lips moving against her carefully and (Y/N) tasted tears. She leaned further into his embrace and took her hand to the nape of his neck, the other placed on his shoulder.

Edmund broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. He pressed his hands against (Y/N)‘s back as she sat down on her heels, her face now level with his. She opened her eyes lazily, and saw that his were still closed. His hands moved up and down her back in soft, slow motions.

Edmund took a hand to her cheek and sniffled. He opened his eyes and leaned back to look at her longingly.

“Come,” she said earnestly, pulling at his hand as she shuffled back underneath the sheets. “Stay with me.”

The young king followed her as he did all those nights before, folding the sheets back gently and slipping right beside her. They found warmth and comfort as soon as their bodies met, and as they wrapped themselves around eachother, with Edmund’s head resting on her shoulder, (Y/N)’s cheek finding itself atop his head, they drifted into a dreamless sleep unlike any other.

Bright rays of sunlight shook the sleep from (Y/N)’s eyes, leaving her in a frustrating fight to fall back into unconscious. Warm breaths fell delicately on her left cheek, and as she fully awakened, she felt Edmund’s body by her side. His legs were tangled with hers and as one arm lay behind her head, the other was draped across her stomach. The blanket of warmth he provided lulled her to press herself closer to him, and rest her face in the crook of his neck before breathing him in softly. She leaned back again and took a long look at him, feeling as though it was like seeing the first break of spring sunlight.

Edmund began to stir, and it took a moment before she finally saw familiar gold-flecked eyes staring up at the ceiling. (Y/N) smiled at the sight of him, her chest bleeding happiness. She leaned towards his jaw and pressed a kiss there, and under his chin, and continued her path down to his chest.

A heavy chuckle escaped Edmund as (Y/N) propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him. He was heavy with sleep, but that didn’t stop him from sitting up and wrapping his arms around the swordswoman to lay her gently on her back. She let out a breathy laugh as he mirrored her previous movements, kissing her jaw, her chin...

(Y/N) grinned and tried to haul him up so she could kiss him properly, but as soon as his face came close to hers, she grimaced.

“Your breath,” she said in a croaky voice. “It smells awful.”

Edmund laugh lowly, sending a chill through her body. “Yours, too.”

He met her lips in a sloppy kiss, and she groaned in disgust.

“Ed, seriously it’s disgusting,” she said, her words muffled against his lips.

He smiled and pulled away, watching her wipe her lips on the pillow next to her. (Y/N) grinned widely as her eyes met his, pulling him in for a hug as she stroked his back.

Edmund spoke first. “We need to be careful tomorrow.”

(Y/N) frowned. “Because of Lord Rami?”

“Yes...and no.” He pulled away from her hug and settled his hand on her hip. “Representatives of Tashbaan will be there, too. And yes, they will have received news of the supply shipments making way to their ports, but it won’t stop their hostility towards you. You mustn’t do what I did. Don’t show your anger.”

(Y/N) feigned a gasp. “Me? Show my anger? How could I ever?”

Edmund gave her a half-hearted smile before brushing a hair behind her ear. “You would be very surprised.”

She chuckled softly and closed her eyes, reveling in the young king’s warm arms and his quiet breaths.

“I wish I could stay here,” she began. “Forever.”

“Then stay.”

(Y/N) opened her eyes to find Edmund’s gaze already on her, a serious expression taking a hold on his face.

“Ed-”

“After your siblings’ wedding, you can come back. I mean, if you really aren’t happy there...if you’re happier here...”

(Y/N) blinked slowly, her chest clenching as she realised that sooner or later, she would have to leave Cair Paravel. She would leave its woods and sun-kissed cliff side. She’d leave Peter, Susan, Lucy...Edmund.

And she would be miserable.

(Y/N) let her hand drift over to Edmund’s face to rest in his soft hair and stroke her thumb across the shell of his ear.

“My family needs me, Ed.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, so carefully, as though it would be the last time. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

Leaning back slightly, he pressed the tip of his nose against hers. “You won’t be leaving your family alone, we can help them. Of course, you’ll visit them whenever and for however long you like. You won’t have to choose.”

“But I do,” she replied softly. “We all do. I can’t be both in my head and in my heart. Especially not now. Maybe later down the track, when everything is better, we can do that.”

(Y/N) brought a hand up to the young king’s face, making a path of his freckles with her eyes. He leaned into her touch, eyelids falling shut. She forced back tears that sprung to her eyes and tried to swallow the burning lump that appeared in her throat.

If I leave, it won’t be forever, she willed herself to say over and over again until the lump almost disappeared.

Almost.

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just--another--daydreamer · 3 years

Text

Snippets

» Shota Aizawa x gn!reader (They/Them pronouns used)

»Genre: Angst »Summary: While investigating a murder, Aizawa finds a piece of paper that reminds him of the past »Warnings: murder; blood; (short) description of a dead body & injuries; police; implied depression; trauma »Words: 2.2k » A/N: I listened to the song “Red” by Survive Said the Prophet as an inspiration for this. Repost because it didn’t show up in the tags

You can find a link to my Masterlist etc in my bio and pinned post

The scene was a mess when Aizawa arrived. The glass of what used to be a rather fancy door and windows cracked under the soles of his shoes as he approached the building. The automatic door did not open anymore, so he simply stepped through the giant hole in the pane, closely followed by his fellow pro-hero Midnight.

On the dark marble floor that adorned the bank’s entrance, the shards looked like stars in the sky of a clear summer night. However, the stars were not of their usual colour – they shone in a bright red. Aizawa’s eyes looked for the source of the red colouring and quickly fell onto the reason why he was there in the first place.

There was not much left of the expensive suit that the man had been wearing. It was ripped into pieces that hung loosely from his body, exposing the bone-deep wounds the man was covered in. An obnoxious smell came from the victim, but Aizawa refrained from covering his nose. Instead, he just clenched his jaw, the sensation a minor distraction from it.

Kayama crossed her arms in front of her chest. “He’s dead.” Aizawa huffed in an amused manner. “I couldn’t tell, thank you for pointing that out.” He took a few brave steps toward the body. The investigators who had been taking notes and pictures of the victim and the scene made room for the hero. Their job was done and they disappeared outside.

Aizawa crouched down to get a closer look at the man. He was not particularly interested in the dead body itself, but in his suit. Trying not to get too much blood on his hands in the process, Aizawa reached into the man’s pocket. His fingers grazed a tiny piece of paper. ‘Bingo,’ he thought before letting it disappear immediately and without anyone noticing. He was proud that not even Kayama’s watchful eyes had picked up on him doing this. He was glad that the police had not found it yet, making it easier for him to maybe take a look at it later, despite already knowing what the piece of paper was. Though, there was something in his mind that told him to leave it there, to forget about all this. To leave it to the police. Aizawa should let this rest and move one. God, that was giving him a headache. He got up with an annoyed gnashing of teeth.

“Oh, the heroes!” A fairly young policeman interrupted Aizawa’s ‘investigation’ by approaching them. “Any witnesses?” Kayama asked without hesitations. “No, that’s why nobody called the pros. He was found like that by a civilian when he was already dead.” The man pulled out the notes he had been taking prior to the heroes’ arrival. “Has he been identified yet?” Even though they were not technically a part of the investigating forces, the heroes had to know everything. Catching the foe was their job after all. “No. We’re working on it,” the man answered Aizawa’s question. “You’ve taken a look at the body?”

“Yes.” “Do you have any idea who could’ve done this?” the policeman asked. Aizawa averted his eyes, afraid that the officer might know that he was lying when he said, “No. Isn’t it your job to find that out?” His worries turned out to be unjustified as the policeman clicked his pen and let it, alongside with his small notepad, disappear in his pocket, an offended frown on his forehead. “That’s correct,” he answered, clearly struggling to keep his composure after Aizawa’s comment. “The video tapes are being investigated at the moment.”

Aizawa huffed again. “Yeah, good luck with that.” Kayama gave him a warning side-look. He knew he went too hard on the newbies sometimes and being in no good mood after his small discovery did not make that any better. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” the young man stated. “This was the work of someone who knew what they were doing,” Aizawa explained. “There were no witnesses so that person knew the perfect timing for their attack. I’m sure they were aware of the security cameras as well. Even though they completely destroyed the place which makes it seem like a messy, spontaneous attack, it was a coordinated one for sure. This wasn’t a simple robbery ending in murder, this was an assassination.” The man looked at him, stunned. Kayama, on the other hand, was not too impressed.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that the murderer was a pro at what they were doing. They probably-” Aizawa stopped himself before he could reveal any more of the things going through his head. “That’s it, that’s all I’ve got.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Eraserhead.” Still a little stunned, the policeman bowed his head, Aizawa did not bother to do the same.

They watched as the man joined his colleagues outside.

Aizawa rubbed his jaw. It hurt from how much he had been gritting his teeth. In his pocket, his fingertips touched the tiny piece of paper again. Snippets of the past that he had been trying to forget at any cost came back all of the sudden and with the force of water masses making their way through a dam after weeks of heavy rain. He closed his eyes for a moment. Home. He needed to get home right now.

Midnight frowned at Aizawa. She opened her mouth to say something, but he silenced her by raising his hand in a defensive manner. “I know what you’re going to say, save your breath.” But, as it was to be expected from his friend, Midnight spoke anyway. “You’ve found another snip.” “That doesn’t matter.” “That means it was them.” Aizawa really did not want to have this conversation right now. He buried his hands in his pockets again, closing his fist around the paper, and started walking towards the entrance of the bank. The night was bright from the red lights of the many police cars outside the building, reflecting off the wet asphalt. Some reporters tried to get a picture of the heroes leaving the building or even the crime scene. Their flashing cameras blinded Aizawa and he looked down as he lifted the warning tape to pass beneath it.

He was sure that Midnight would follow him but he would not have thought that she would catch up so fast. “You should tell the police everything you know about them,” she ordered. “I haven’t seen them in three months-” Aizawa sighed. “-since they lost their hero license, became a vigilante and broke up with me.” “Aizawa, that did not look like the work of a vigilante. That was a villain’s work.” He recalled the images of the scene and shook his head. Both to erase the picture of the corpse, and to disagree with his friend. “I’m sure they had their reasons.” Midnight huffed. “And you’re still defending them? Why?” Aizawa did not have an answer. “I’m sure the investigations will give some more insight.” “The investigations that you are impeding?” He did not have an answer to that either.

“I didn’t think you were the kind of person to let your feelings get in the way of your work.”

Stopping in his tracks, Aizawa sighed. “I didn’t think that either.” A hand of his wandered from his pocket to his chest, right above his heart. The pain that he had been trying to ignore came back, full force. It spread like a forest fire in a dry summer from his chest through his entire body, replacing the numbness he had been dealing with for the past months. The pain took his breath and made it impossible for him to move. He needed to get home, please, he needed to get away from Kayama, away from everyone.

For a mere second, he thought of how he needed you. You would know what to say, how to help him. You would know how he felt by just looking at him. But then he remembered that it was also you who had gotten him into this situation in the first place. That you were the one who had just murdered that man. Why was he defending you? He did not know. It was not the right thing to do, probably. Maybe. Maybe? He had no idea.

Aizawa’s fingers held onto his shirt that hung loosely over his chest. It did not ease the pain. Neither did holding onto that piece of paper you had left for him on the body. Just like you had left them at the scenes after the last few crimes you had committed. But with the difference that this had been your first murder.

“They’re not a villain, Kayama.” Aizawa was glad when he felt the first few raindrops hit his clothes and hair. The rain would cool him down, sort his thoughts out. Or so Aizawa hoped. “They may have lost their hero license but that doesn’t make them a villain.” “So you’re calling them a vigilante?”

“The hero system is not rational. Vigilantism is not rational either,” Aizawa was not sure where he was going with this. Maybe this was just him convincing himself that, no, you were not a villain. He clenched both his fists until his knuckles turned white. He thought of all the times they had put hero students so very young in dangerous situations, leaving them mentally scarred forever. He thought of the students who died horrible deaths upon being put into fights that were not even theirs yet and might not even become theirs in the future. He thought about the rejects, those who did not fit into heroism. He thought about those abusing their power. And finally, he thought about you, who had always fought against these problems in your own way and thus lost your license. And Aizawa had been too much of a coward to follow you.

He felt like he had broken into pieces that day, ripped apart into tiny snippets. It was not impossible for him to comprehend your thoughts and motivations – no, they even made sense to him. But a part of him stuck to what he had been taught to believe in. No, it was not only his heart that had broken that day.

It started to shower and thunder could be heard in the distance. Aizawa’s clothes started sticking to his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He should get out of the rain to not catch a cold but instead he lifted his head and faced the sky. The rain mixed with the tears he had been shedding in secret and hidden from his friend’s view.

Aizawa had not allowed himself to cry until now. And hell, it felt good. The pain in his body eased, returned to his heart until that was the only place to ache.

“Give me the paper.” Kayama came closer and, in that moment, Aizawa was incredibly thankful for the rain. He reached into his pocket and placed the snippet on Kayama’s hand.

“It’s a location, just like the last few times. They want to talk to you, Aizawa.” “Yeah, it seems like they do.” “You should accept their offer.” “Did you change your mind about them all of the sudden?” Aizawa raised his eyebrows at Kayama. “No,” Midnight admitted. “But I’m your friend and I see that you’re hurting.” She rested her free hand on his shoulder. “And I trust your judgement that they have their reasons.” Aizawa ignored her last statement. “I’m not hurting.” “Oh shut the hell up.” Kayama lightly punched his bicep, it barely hurt. “It’s not far from here. A five-minute walk. Do you wanna go?” Aizawa nodded.

He did not know why he had agreed to meet you. It was not rational, not at all. The walk there felt as though it lasted hours – every single step took so much effort, like the street was made of gum sticking to his soles. At this point, he could see their breaths in the white lights of the street lanterns. The cold bit into Aizawa’s skin, made its way through his flesh and stuck to his bones, slowed him down even more. The rain was getting into his eyes, blurring his vision. Maybe the world did not want him to get to you, he thought. But when he saw your silhouette in the distance, an umbrella in your right hand to protect yourself from the rain, he remembered why he was there. He was there to make things right. Between him and you as well as in the society he lived in. He would do anything to fix this mess. To protect his students. To protect his and your ideals. To protect the ones he loved. To protect you. And to be protected by you.

“I am here,” was all he said when he came to a stop two metres before you. All Might’s catchphrase, ironic for the situation he was in. Even though it was dark, he was able to see you smile. It was a warm smile, the one he had missed so incredibly much. You offered him your hand and he took it with no hesitation. It felt familiar and sent electricity through your touching palms, up his arm and through his entire body. Somehow, the snippets of who he was came together and he felt whole again.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa #aizawa shouta #x reader #x you #x yn #x gender neutral reader #x gn!reader #bnha x reader

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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years

Text

Things Remembered

Pairing: Loki x Female reader (who is more than she seems)

fandom: MCU (takes place post-Thor: The Dark World)

word count: 1,921

TW: brief mentions of death, mostly hurt/comfort, some angst, a bit of romance

Notes: My first fan fic on Tumblr! This was inspired by a dream I had where I was wandering through an abandoned Marvel themed amusement park. The imagery was so vivid that the next day I was searching Google to find out if it was a real place. It’s not, but I did learn about a lot of other abandoned amusement parks in the US, Europe, and Japan, and looked at a lot of creepy pictures. Comments/Constructive Criticism are welcome! Otherwise, please enjoy!

I starred up at the chained wrought-iron gates of the old abandoned amusement park. I still wasn’t entirely sure what it was that had drawn me here, but I knew, deep down, that it was important. I had seen it my dreams, or were they visions? I wasn’t sure anymore. Even my memories weren’t reliable. There were the ones that were mine, and then there were the ones that weren’t, but they felt so real, like things that had happened. But if that was the case, why didn’t I remember them happening to me, in my lifetime? It was almost as if they belonged to someone else, in another life, in another time.

I peered through the bars into the front entrance of the park. The building that had once served as the box office was boarded up. Most of the paint had chipped away, and it looked like moss and mold were growing in spots. The roof looked like one strong gust of wind would be enough to tear it off.

I turned my attention to the gate and the padlocked chain that was supposed to be holding it shut. I’d done my research beforehand and knew from various urban explorer blogs that breaking in would be the easy part. I reached up and grabbed onto the iron bars, pushing one side of the gate away from me and the other side towards me. The chain didn’t put up any resistance and soon there was an opening big enough for me to slip between. I was in.

The ground was squishy under my feet from the morning’s rain. The skies above were still gray and threatening to storm. I shivered and pulled my coat tighter around me. I gave myself kudos for remembering to wear an old pair of boots. At least my feet would stay warm and dry. I glanced at remains of the park around me and started walking, making a point of staying alert and keeping an eye out for other trespassers.

It wasn’t long before I was approaching what used to be the Grand Fountain. The standing water that was still the fountain reeked of mold and mildew. The old white marble was cracked and crumbling. What a shame, I thought, I used to throw pennies in this fountain. I looked up at the hand painted billboard above the fountain. It was faded, but I could still make out the image of an older, white haired gentleman, with a salt and pepper mustache and glasses. Next to his smiling face were the words: “Excelsior, True Believers!” The man had once been the park’s founder and owner. After he had died the park had been sold to a group of investors. They had promised all sorts of updates and renovations, but none of it had ever materialized, and the park had fallen further into disrepair and debt, until it had been closed for good.

Next, I passed by the bumper cars. I stopped again, sighing gloomily at the sight of it. The cars were all sitting haphazardly in the middle of the floor. Red and gold, purple and green, red, white, and blue, and my favorite, the red and black one; all completely unmoving. It just didn’t feel right, none of this did. I forced myself to turn away and keep moving deeper into the park, closer to my ultimate destination.

A few minutes later I saw it, the Ferris Wheel, aka The Galactus. Painted purple and blue, it has once been the centerpiece of the park. Whatever voice had been calling to me in my dreams, it had been calling me from here. And then, almost as if someone had flipped a switch, the Ferris Wheel lit up and music began to play. It was now or never. I walked up to the entrance of the ride, and that’s when I saw him.

He was tall, with long black hair and a regal air about him. His face was angular and handsome in an other-worldly sense. His eyes, oh his eyes, they were piercing, haunting; I could get lost in those eyes. He smiled when he saw me and held out a hand to me.

“Welcome, my darling, so glad you finally made it. Won’t you step aboard?” He gestured with his other hand towards an open pod on the Ferris Wheel.

“It’s you,” I breathed, “you’re the voice that’s been calling to me.” I was sure I’d never met this man before, but he seemed so familiar, felt so familiar. I trusted him, I felt safe with him. I took his hand and let him pull me up onto the ride’s platform. It was strong, yet gentle. I gazed into his eyes as he lifted it to his lips and kissed it.

“My beloved, I’ve searched for you for so long,” he said, gazing back into my eyes. I followed him into the pod and sat down on the cold metal seat, He seated himself across from me, and closed the door. I heard the click of the metal lock latching shut, and then lurched forward as the Ferris Wheel began to move. My companion quickly reached out and grabbed my arm to steady me. “It’s alright my love, it’s quite safe. I would never allow any harm to come you.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, finally finding my voice. “What’s going on? How do you know me? Why do I feel like I know, even though I’m pretty bloody sure that I’ve never met you before?”

“All your questions will be answered, my love, but first, let me ask you: have you been having troubling dreams? Perhaps snippets of memory that aren’t necessarily yours, and yet, they feel like they are?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Oh, my dear,” he replied with a chuckle, “I know everything about you; who you were before, every life you’ve lived along the way up until now; every time I’ve gotten so close to reaching you, only to have death rip you away from me… tell me, do you believe in curses? Magic? Reincarnation?”

“I…I don’t know…maybe? A little? What does that have to do with anything?”

The Ferris Wheel suddenly stopped, with the two of us now stuck at the top. I had a moment of panic, looking down at the ground, and then back at the dark-haired man. He took my hand and held it between both of his.

“Calm yourself, my love, it’s fine. I just want to talk to you.”

“Fine?!” I cried. “How the bloody hell is this fine? Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“I want you to remember who you really are,” he said, and then, placing a hand under my chin, “Search your mind. Surely, you must remember me; you must remember us, and Camelot.”

“Camelot? Every UK child knows the stories of Camelot,” I told him. “My own memories are...confusing. It feels like there’s a wall around my mind. But there are cracks in that wall, and whenever I try to look between the cracks, that’s when I see things… I see me, living other lives. I have different names and different clothes, but it’s always me.” I raised my eyes to meet his. “I really do feel like I know you. I feel some strange connection with you, and I feel like it’s right there…like the answer is right there where the wall is, but I can’t break through to it.”

“That’s it!” he exclaimed. “The wall in your mind! Break the wall, break the curse! It’s already falling apart, so in theory, one good wrecking ball should be enough to shatter it. Oh Merlin, you lazy bastard, you let your own curse grow weak with time.” He pulled my face close so that it was merely centimeters from his. “I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to sound insane, impossible even, but I swear that every word is true. Do you trust me?” I nodded, tears starting to fall down my face. He gently brushed one away with his thumb. “Good. The truth is, that in your first life, your real life, you are Morgana Pendragon, half sister to Arthur, rightful Queen upon the throne of Camelot, my one true love, mother of our children, the most powerful sorceress that ever lived. I need you to remember! Wake up, Morgana! Wake up!”

He placed his fingers on my temples and something inside my head snapped. I felt the mental wall shatter and was blinded by a shining gold and green light. My head snapped back. Excruciating pain swept through me and I felt a scream escape my throat. And then I felt myself rising into the air. I heard the rumble of thunder above me and pain in my body was replaced by a strange, yet oh so familiar energy. And I remembered. I remembered everything.

One memory flashed after another: Camelot, Loki, my brother Arthur, and Merlin. Bloody fucking Merlin. His and my brother’s betrayal shown most vividly. That betrayal that had led to the slaughter of my two beautiful sons, and my own death at the stake. Merlin has cursed me while I burned, cursed me to be reborn over and over again, and die young if any inkling of my former life dared to bleed through. But as any well-versed magic wielder will tell you, curses will weaken if not maintained by the caster. Centuries has gone by, and every year Merlin’s curse had grown weaker, and little by little, the cracks had begun to form. And now my bonds were broken. I knew who I was, and I felt my magic flowing through me again as I levitated above the Ferris Wheel.

I was shocked out of my reverie, and thrown out of the sky, when a bolt of lightning broke through the storm clouds and hit me square in the back. I fell, but instead of hitting the ground I was caught but a pair of strong, comforting arms. I looked up to see my lover’s face looking back at me, full of deep concern.

“My love, Morgana, are you alright?”

“Loki?” I inquired, my voice shaking. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, my love, it’s me. I’m here, I’ve got you now, you’re safe,” he answered, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“You found me,” I said, reaching up and caressing his cheek with my fingertips.

“Of course, I found you,” he replied, “I never gave up hope that we would be together again. I swear that I’ll never let anyone take you from me again.” His lips met mine in the most loving of kisses. He was mine, and I was his, and no one would ever tear us apart again. But a question was still rolling around in my brain, and when we broke apart, I looked him straight in the eye and voiced it aloud:

“Loki, where the bloody hell is Merlin?”

TO BE CONTINUED?

Post Credits Scene:

Somewhere, on a small Mediterranean island, sat an older gentleman drinking espresso in a café. He was actually much older than he looked, but you wouldn’t think it to look at him. The darkening clouds and a rumble of thunder drew his eyes skyward. The energy in the air around him changed, and his brow furrowed. And then he felt it: a curse, specifically his curse, had at long last been broken. She was awake, and she would be coming for his head…

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki #mcu #loki fan fiction #thor the dark world #camelot #morgan le fay #morgana #merlin

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goodomensblog · 4 years

Text

Afterward - Part 14

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13

(#1 won! Crowley is off to investigate!)

Afterward - - - Part 14

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

Scrolls jut from towering shelves, a canopy of yellowing paper arching overhead. Crowley strolls beneath, jar of Hellfire tucked under his arm.

The painted Bentley is flaking, an echo of the colorful fresco it had undoubtedly been, once upon a time. Nowadays, Heaven is pale, sterile, and sprawling. The decorations of old had likely been purged with each of Heaven’s remodelings. All, it seems, but this one here.

Crowley stops short in front of the mural. Tilting his head, he studies it, tentative fingertips tracing curling edges of paint. The Bentley is painted in hues of black that long ago faded to shadow grays. From beneath it’s wheels, brush stoked flames crawl. The pale, peeling flames encircle the vehicle, climbing in and out of the windows. The car is painted as if it is emerging from a wall of fire. And beyond that - the mural is obscured.

Eyeing the dark shelves, Crowley places his hands on cool wood. Bracing, he gives a single, solid push.

It scrapes effortlessly over marble, and the mural uncovers, inch by inch. When the wall is clear, Crowley, wiping sweaty palms on his pants, steps back.

The mural is - broken.

Entire patches of it have worn away, a likely combination of age and neglect.

In one corner is the flaming Bentley. Above it and slightly to the right, half of an electric scooter drives along; it’s hunched riders are ghosts, little more than pale outlines amidst peeling paint. Nearby, a boy stands, blue jacket billowing, flaking golden paint encircling his head. His small hand is raised.

The scene is hauntingly familiar.

Narrowing his eyes, Crowley strolls along the mural, tracing his hand along rough paint. Slivers flake and fall, drifting like snow upon the marble floor.

The mural is ruined and peeling in the areas immediately surrounding the boy. Beyond the stretch of pale wall, the mural choppily resumes. Rendered in harsh strokes, a red-eyed being claws its way from brutal cracks in the earth, black mist rising. Patches of paint are worn away, and when the mural resumes, Crowley’s fingers are running over the blood mad eyes of Hell hounds, who are painted with their heads thrown back in grimacing howls. The sky above them is red.

The mural goes patchy again, but Crowley’s pretty sure he can make out the whitewashed gates of Heaven, and - huge, clawed and pale fingers curling possessively over it’s top.

“Hm,” Crowley says, giving the clutching hand a once-over. “That doesn’t look good.”

Nearly the entirety of the remaining mural has fallen into ruin - except for a splash of paint at the end. Or, more specifically, two splashes of paint. Clear, crisp white and rich, velvety black collide in a crash of colors.

Upon closer inspection, Crowley notices that there are figures within the splashes.

Squinting, Crowley leans in, and realizes the vaguely shaped beings within are reaching toward one another. Where their outstretched reaches touch, a rainbow of color blossoms. Beneath, nearly entirely erased by time an age, precise black lettering spells: Bilanx.

“Balance?”

What does it mean?

Before Crowley has much of a chance to consider, the room rumbles, rocking. Crowley stumbles back as scrolls, tipping from their precarious stacks, begin to tumble down around him.

Alright then. Crowley thinks, giving the mural a last fleeting look. Time to go.

Clutching the Hellfire under one arm, Crowley charges the stairs. This time they cooperate, and he’s out of the Hall of Records and back to sprinting across the atrium in moments. In the marble hallways, the lights have faded to a barely-there glow and are flickering rapidly on then off.

Crowley takes corners at a full sprint, shoes skidding on the smooth floors.

He’s relieved when he sees Gabriel’s doors are still closed. If something had come for Aziraphale, Crowley reasons, they wouldn’t have taken the time to close the door after themselves.

Crowley flings the suite doors open.

“Angel!” he calls, striding in. “I got the-”

He stops.

The room is silent. And bare.

No, wait. Not entirely bare. A small, dark shape is curled, motionless on the couch.

Not daring to breathe, Crowley pivots, looking over the room.

“Aziraphale?”

Silence is his only answer.

He crosses the room, shoes sinking into the infuriatingly plush carpet.

“Aziraphale? Where are you?”

Clutching the Hellfire to his chest, Crowley turns in a small circle.

The lump on the couch hasn’t moved. Lifting his glasses, Crowley squints.

“Beelzebub?”

The Lord of Hell is curled in on themselves. Beneath them, the couch is soaked in dark, stale blood. Their face, leeched of color, is partially obscured by black, matted hair.

“Shit,” Crowley curses, hopping over the coffee table.

Gripping the demon lord’s shoulder, Crowley pulls them onto their back. They roll, limp, head lolling back.

Cursing under his breath, Crowley gives their shoulder a shake.

Nothing.

He shakes a little harder.

Still nothing.

“Oh come on! Wake up!” Crowley hisses, and gives them a rough, abrupt shake.

Chapped lips part; Beelzebub heaves a low, jagged breath.

“See? Knew you hadn’t kicked the bucket,” Crowley says, breathless, and sinks limply down on the table’s edge.

“You….have the Hellfire?” Beelzebub rasps, squinting a tired, pale eye open.

“Got it right here,” Crowley says patting the lid, “And I’ll happily use it to patch you up right as soon as you tell me where in Heaven Aziraphale-”

“Your angel left,” Beelzebub says, breath rattling between words. “We felt the...thing. And the angels started….screaming. He waited....but the screams got louder and louder….and then screams turned to pleas….and your angel begged my forgiveness,” Beelzebub adds with a dry, bloody chuckle, “then left.... to try to save them.”

Crowley surges up, jar of Hellfire loose in his grasp.

“When? Beelzebub, how long ago did he leave?”

“...ten minutes...I’d say. For a few minutes now….it’s been silent.”

Crowley straightens. Fingers, only slightly trembling, shove his sunglasses higher on his nose. He has to go. Now.

“....you’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Beelzebub, rasps, their pale eyes cool and discerning. “At least….leave me the Hellfire….to give me.... a fighting chance.”

Crowley can feel his pulse down to his fingers. Jaw clenched, he looks down at the jar.

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

Aziraphale has gone to help the angels, and is presumably facing off against whatever the thing is that has broken into heaven. Crowley has returned with the jar of Hellfire, to find Beelzebub still alive - but inching closer to death with every passing moment. Desperate to follow after Aziraphale, but with Beelzebub’s life hanging in the balance, Crowley makes the difficult decision to...

Stay just long enough to heal Beelzebub with the Hellfire. Crowley can’t stand the thought of Aziraphale facing danger without him….but as much as he wants to rush after Aziraphale, Crowley can’t ignore the feeling that leaving Beelzebub to die is wrong. He may be a demon, but he’s never been a monster.

Go after Aziraphale, but leave Beelzebub with the Hellfire so they can at least try to heal themselves. Crowley will never forgive himself if something happens to Aziraphale. He knows it is wrong to leave Beelzebub without helping them, but he is willing to be a monster, just this once, if it means potentially saving Aziraphale’s life.

Piggy-back Beelzebub and heal them on-the-go. Crowley is a demon of many talents - multi-tasking being one of them. As a firm believer that one can absolutely have their cake and eat it too, Crowley decides he will immediately go after Aziraphale WHILE healing good old Beelz. What could possibly go wrong?

Please comment or reblog to vote! :) Thanks for reading!

Part 15

#my writing #choose your own adventure fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #good omens #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands fanfic #ineffable husbands fanfiction #multi-chapter fic #aziraphale #crowley #good omens beelzebub #choose your own adventure

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elexica · 3 years

Text

Give & Toke

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069568

Happy 4/20 Yugihoes,

Please accept a humble posting of my puppyshipping/violetshipping weedfic.

Joey showed up at Kaiba's shiny new dispensary for the sole purpose of kicking Kaiba's ass.

It does not go as planned.

A gift for @sky-kaijou / @sky-kaijou-writes in honor of the 2020 New Zealand Cannabis Reefer-endum. TW: Marijuana use and sale.

Title by @auroraXborealis <3 For the Professional Rivals prompt of AU-Gust. . . . (context for this fic) Marijuana is decriminalized currently in Domino City, and stores can be licensed through a regulatory scheme similar to that of California.

Full story under the cut

Joey stomped into the new cannabis shop in the neighborhood. It looked like an Apple store: white walls, smooth white tables, iPads and clerks in matching polos. Gentrification had taken his neighborhood by storm, spinning the older apartment complexes into glamorous condos, replacing the older styled homes with sleek modern imitations, and leaving everyone who couldn’t keep up forced to either move away or to the streets.

Joey’s own rent was soaring, and so was his bitterness towards the invaders to his territory. And especially this cursed-ass pot shop. The shiny new dispensary hadn’t made a terrible dent in his sales, but he couldn’t keep up with the variety, the quality, or the convenience.

It was a travesty to his profession, is what it was. Joey had been dealing for years—he’d never gotten an allowance from his father and passing a little pot along had made up the difference. Once he graduated high school, it morphed into something of a full-time gig. That hadn’t been his intention. It wasn’t like he was trying to move up the distribution ladder or become the next gang lord. But he’d built a good network, and in an industry that ran on relationships and reputation, it was really going pretty well for him.

And this bastard had the gall to move into his territory! Sell his soulless, corporate product to his loyal customers. With this robotic, inhuman, unfeeling mockery of everything that weed is.

Joey spotted a mustachioed blue-polo wearing corporate shill and waved him over. “I’m here ta talk ta yer manager. Give him ‘a piece of my mind.”

“If you intend to make threats against Mr. Kaiba in some sort of gang turf nonsense, you have no idea the true power that you are—” the goon responded, placid energy souring. Joey’s fists clenched tighter, body preparing for a fight.

“I’m not sure a piece of your mind would get you very far.” While Joey was attempting to intimidate the soulless bud-tender, a tall brunet in a white suit with a light blue oxford shirt had stalked up behind him and interrupted.

Joey spun on the toe of his well-worn red Nike’s. “An’ who do ya think you are?”

The brunet crossed his arms over his chest. “Seto Kaiba, the license-holder for this establishment.”

Joey nervously ran a hand through his messy blond hair. He hadn’t expected the shop owner to be so young. Or attractive. All of his fight drained from him. In Joey’s decade of experience, rival dealers were rarely so… professional and polished. Joey felt instantly underdressed in his varsity jacket and jeans.

“Uh… well, yer in territory that doesn’t belong ta ya!” Joey stammered.

“Is that so? I assure you, I have all required state and local permits,” Kaiba answered, blue eyes narrowing. The taller man let a stray glance to Joey’s old, green Jansport backpack. “Perhaps if you had a better view of my inventory, we could have a more amiable business relationship. I’m not trying to alienate everyone in my industry.”

It was insane, the way the taller man could knock the fight out of him without even trying. Joey had never considered that his enemy would possibly seek to de-escalate the situation. Joey nodded and followed the taller man to the back, hypnotized. He maybe shouldn’t have smoked a bowl before raiding the enemy facility.

Inside an equally pristine office, Kaiba lit a pre-rolled joint and took a long inhale. He passed it across the desk, the rolling papers poised delicately between his forefinger and middle finger.

Joey accepted the joint and took a hit. After an impressive pause, Kaiba released smoke rings from his lips slowly, in that perfect practiced way. The smoke dissipated softly, fading from tight circles and clouding the air. With no windows in the room, it seemed that his intent was to hot box it. Joey wondered idly how the white marble of the desk was so free from dust or ash if Kaiba took to smoking here.

Joey passed back the joint before releasing his breath in a round of hacking coughs.

While Joey was gasping for air and trying to gather his bearings, Kaiba produced a glass of water and a plain white ashtray. He gently rested the joint on the edge.

“That was a proprietary strain—Blue Eyes White Dragon. It’s Sativa. I’m working on a hybrid model that has a significantly greater THC content. But the current Blue Eyes plant has the highest percentage of CBD for Sativa plants currently on the market in Domino. Thoughts?” Kaiba unbuttoned his white blazer.

Joey’s eyes watered, and he managed to take a few sips from the glass. “It tastes… unique. Kinda minty?”

Kaiba nodded, raising the joint to take another hit.

“So, y’know, I came here to talk about ya encroaching on my business. I’ve built up a book ‘a business in this part ‘a Domino, and I’m not gonna give up that easy!” Joey said, straightening his shoulders. He couldn’t tell if he was sitting up properly. The world was already starting to feel a little warmer, fuzzier. His forehead sort of tingled like he had a third eye.

Once again, Kaiba blew out a series of flawless rings, staring into space. The blue irises of his eyes were framed by smoke-induced redness. “Yes, well, I have no intention of cowing to any threats. I took this corrupt pharmaceutical company from my dead father, and I am turning it into something that can actually improve people’s lives. And no puny street punk will stand in my way.”

“Oof. Sorry for ya loss.” Joey elected to ignore the last comment, as a gentleman. And because, for the first time, he spotted a white holster tucked under the newly opened sport jacket.

“Don’t be, he was a bastard,” Kaiba said with a satisfied smirk.

Joey laughed at the insinuation. He might’ve had more to say, under other circumstances, but Kaiba had shared the good shit. Instead, the room felt a few degrees warmer than when he had entered and he removed his letterman jacket, revealing his toned biceps.

Kaiba was constructing another round of rings when his eyes met Joey’s sculpted arms. His focus was completely dashed, and he ended up exhaling the rest of the smoke from his nose, like a dragon.

“Ha, ya see something ya like, rich boy?” Joey said with a signature grin, picking up the joint again. It was already almost half-way spent.

Kaiba looked away dismissively. “Irrelevant. Mr. Wheeler, it was a matter of time before you paid my enterprise a visit. As you have most likely noticed, there are certain elements of the trade in which I excel. I am a gifted scientist, an expert businessman, and—”

“A robot? You’ve had double the hits I have and ya won’t even crack a smile! I dunno what yer tolerance has ta be, but ya ain’t human anymore.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes, tapping the joint against the ash tray to release some of the built-up cinders. “There is a certain social element to this business that I have no interest in participating in.”

Joey leaned over a little in his chair. “Is that so?” He meant to have an interrogator’s pose and expression, but he was worried he just looked high as balls.

Kaiba passed the still burning joint across the table, little red ember barely emanating light in the bright white office.

“I would like to absorb your book of business and employ you as a bud-tender.”

Joey rejected the joint and cracked his knuckles, knowing that the action flexed his arm muscles. An almost-imperceptible blush flashed across Kaiba’s cheeks. “I’ve been my own boss, mostly, for a little while now. Why should I be a glorified store clerk for ya?”

“You can’t possibly see this career continuing to serve you indefinitely. You’ll need to go legit or go to jail.” Kaiba lazily released one more puff of smoke before butting the joint. “But, I am amenable to other arrangements. What do you propose?”

Joey smiled at the suggestion. “Partner. It doesn’t haveta be fifty-fifty or anything, but I’ve built somethin’ up, and I know what I’m worth. I gotta be making at least five g’s a month.”

Kaiba finally broke. He laughed almost hysterically at the suggestion, doubling over and taking a full minute to get his breathing to settle. “Yeah, ok. That would be, maybe, a five percent share of the retail business.”

Joey stretched, resting his arms behind his head, giving Kaiba an eyeful of his tight white t-shirt and strong pectorals underneath. “Ten percent of the retail company.”

Kaiba nodded, picked up his phone and typed away. “The contract will be prepared presently.”

“Neato,” Joey said with a lecherous smile. Everything felt soft, warm, comfortable—even if the room looked so sterile it could be used for a surgery. “Now, what should we do with this time?”

Kaiba shifted in his seat and adjusted his light blue tie.

Joey leaned forward, planting an elbow on the desk. “I got some ideas I think you’ll like, partner…”

Kaiba leaned over the desk as well, a small smile budding on his lips. “Oh, already?”

“Yeah. In this business, yer supposed to seal a contract with a kiss.”

“I do not think that’s custom—”

Joey closed the remaining distance and captured his lips in a searing kiss. Kaiba relaxed into the kiss almost instantly. It was softer than Joey had expected. Sweet and hot, with the flavors of mint, smoke, and cannabis on his partner’s lips.

Joey only broke it to walk over and climb into the brunet’s lap.

The contract was respectfully slid under the door.

FIN

#seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #puppyshipping #Violetshipping #my fic #crossposted on ao3 #tw: drug use #tw: marijuana use

12 notes · View notes

mashtonasfuck · 4 years

Text

come with the starry beams, my love

Pairing: Michael Clifford x Ashton Irwin

Prompts:

Mashton Pen Pals

“Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.”

Warnings: Angst. (So much angst that Beth yelled at me, oops)

Word Count: 4.7K

A note from Lucy: This is part of the writers collab organised by @maluminspace and @h0tsos. The masterlist can be found here. See the end of the post for more notes. Shoutout to @loveroflrh and @kindahoping4forever for your advice, and - as always - thank you to Beth for being my number 1 stan.

You can find my masterlist here

This work must not be reposted anywhere - I do not give my permission for it to appear anywhere other than on my blog, or on my ao3 page.

——————————————————————————

My darling,

The last few days have been endless - whenever you leave it feels as though you take all of the sunshine with you.

If you can sneak away, I will meet you under the Oak just after sundown.

Yours, always.

–

The note had been tucked into the lining of Michael’s riding coat. To anyone else, it would have been impossible to find - but Michael always knew where to look. He smiled softly as he ran his thumb over the cream coloured paper, gaze drifting towards the stables. It had been three days since they had seen each other. Not that they were supposed to see each other as frequently as they did. That had been made clear to them both when they were still children - it had left Michael terrified of his father for almost eight months.

Michael found the first note not long after his sixteenth birthday. It had been shoved into a crack in the wall in the rose garden, the white paper standing out against the grey stonework. There had never been any doubt in Michael’s mind that it had been for him. He’d eased it out of the gap and unfolded it eagerly, the scrawl on the paper confirming what he’d hoped. They’d met under the Oak for the first time that night. Michael had been terrified for days afterwards that they’d be discovered - but as time went on he’d grown to relish in the fear of sneaking out. It was the only time he truly felt alive.

–

The sun was just beginning to set as Michael sprinted across the grounds, a giddy feeling overtaking his senses. The sky was streaked with pink and gold, casting a glow across the well kept lawns. The September air felt cool against his skin as he ran, a sure sign that Autumn was on her way. As Michael neared the bend in the river he slowed to a jog - the ground here was always changing - they had both fallen at one time or another, Michael having fallen into the river on one particular occasion. He smiled softly to himself as he thought about that particular night and the events that had transpired afterwards. Michael glanced over his left shoulder - the house was almost out of sight - before checking the ground in front of him and breaking into a sprint once more. The chances of anyone seeing him were slim, but Michael didn’t want to take any chances. He knew that he didn’t have to run - he was to inherit the house and grounds one day, he could go anywhere he pleased - but the thrill he gained from sprinting towards his destination was unmatched. Michael skidded to a halt as he reached the grey stone wall that marked the border between the gardens and the forest beyond. He leaned against the low wall for a moment to catch his breath, heart thundering in his ears. Once his breathing had slowed somewhat, Michael clambered over the wall.

–

“My love?” Michael kept his voice low as he approached the tree, “Are you here?”

The branches just above him rustled, an acorn falling and hitting him squarely on the top of the head. Michael hissed and rubbed his hand over the spot, quiet laughter coming from within the boughs of the tree. Michael rolled his eyes fondly before reaching up and placing his hands around two of the sturdier branches, pulling himself into the thick foliage.

“You really need to stop dropping acorns on my head, you know.”

A snort met Michael’s words as he situated himself on a branch, hazel eyes meeting his green ones as he looked up.

“Where is the fun in that, my darling?”

Michael scoffed at the comment, smiling slightly as he leaned forwards and closed the gap between them. Warmth flooded through him as their lips met, a hand coming up to cup his face.

–

This was one of Michael’s favourite things in existence. No one could touch what they had when they were here - the Oak was their safe haven in a world that wanted to tear them apart. Admittedly it was sometimes hard having to keep their relationship a secret - all Michael wanted to do was announce it to the world - but they both knew that if anyone found out they would never see each other again. Neither of them wanted to risk that. Michael knew that they were soulmates - not that he’d believed in those until the night of the first note. As he’d laid in bed that night, he knew that everything in his life began and ended with Ashton. Michael had told him as much not long afterwards, admitting his deepest secret to the man he hoped would keep his heart safe.

–

Michael rested his forehead against Ashton’s as they broke apart, the older man threading their fingers together before pressing a kiss to the tip of Michael’s nose. Michael hummed contentedly at the gesture before speaking.

“The last three days have felt like a lifetime. I hate being away from you.”

“And I you, my love.” Ashton pressed a kiss to Michael’s cheek before continuing, “The estate feels empty when you’re not here - it is as though the life of the place leaves when you do. I am sure you’re some kind of warlock and you just do not know it.”

Michael chuckled quietly at Ashton’s words, sitting up to take in the other man’s appearance. Ashton’s cream coloured shirt was tucked loosely into his breeches and he’d rolled the sleeves up over his elbows. His coat was laying discarded over a branch behind him and Michael wondered faintly how the other man wasn’t cold. Ashton seemed to run warmer than anyone else Michael knew, Ashton’s explanation being that he worked outside all year round - his body had adapted to keep him warm. Michael wasn’t sure how accurate that really was, but it did mean that he usually ended up tucked inside the other man’s jacket. Ashton pressing kisses to Michael’s knuckles broke him out of his revive, humming softly as warm lips met cold skin. He tugged Ashton towards him, setting the other man’s hands on his hips. Michael threaded his fingers into the curls at the base of Ashton’s neck, pulling him nearer until their lips met.

–

My love,

I cannot stop thinking about your lips on mine. Kissing you is all I have thought about since the moment we met all those years ago, and now I simply cannot go without it. Father is insisting upon holding another ball on Saturday evening. You know how much I hate them, but he cannot comprehend that perhaps I do not wish to marry. Of course, you and I both know that is not the case - if the circumstances were different I would have made you mine years ago.

Perhaps I can sneak out after midnight on Saturday? You know mother likes to retire early, and father will probably be discussing business. I will meet you in our usual spot.

Eternally yours.

–

My darling,

Saturday will be too much of a risk. The stables will be over capacity and you know Thomas will sneak off at some point. I would love nothing more than to see you in your finery - but I will not be able to get away.

In regards to kissing you - I feel the same way. I always have done. You gave me your heart, but remember that you also have mine. In response to your marriage proposal - if that is what you would even call that - you should know that you would never have to ask. We are bound together eternally and nothing will ever change that.

Yours, always.

–

My love,

You are right about Saturday. It was foolish of me to think that we might be able to go undetected. There will be far too many people roaming the grounds and it is not safe. I will meet you on Sunday as the sun begins to set.

You have bewitched me, body and soul. Never forget.

Eternally yours.

–

My darling,

How could I ever forget?

Until Sunday.

Yours, always.

–

Balls always felt like a blur to Michael. There was so much preparation for a single night and it made his parents particularly stressed. He tended to keep out of their way in the days leading up to a ball, and ordinarily his plan worked. This particular ball however was proving to be more of an event than Michael was used to. There seemed to be more preparation than usual - he’d seen great quantities of food being delivered to the kitchens yesterday, and flowers appeared in every spare space in the house. The marble columns in the ballroom shone, and the house was somehow more immaculate than usual. Even the servants seemed to be more stressed than usual - Michael had entered the library just after lunch yesterday to find two servants talking in hushed whispers. As soon as they saw him their eyes went wide and they scurried from the room. He’d thought that somewhat strange - but his parents' stress seemed to have rubbed off on all of the staff, so he thought nothing more of it.

Michael had walked through one of the entry rooms this morning, immediately catching the eye of his father - who abruptly abandoned his conversation with a servant to stop Michael in his tracks. His father had asked him to accompany him into his study, and of course Michael obliged. As he sat opposite his father and listened to his words, he rather wished he hadn’t. Michael knew that his parents were eager for him to marry, but never did he think that they would take it this far.

–

Meet me at the Oak tonight.

–

Ashton read the note over again hoping that more words would appear on the page. Michael was never that short with him. In all the years that they’d known each other a note from Michael had never filled Ashton with so much dread. He chewed the inside of his lip as he read it over again. Michael’s hand was barely legible - it was clear that he’d written it in a rush. The note had been shoved into Ashton’s jacket pocket while he was mucking out the horses. How he’d missed Michael going past he wasn’t sure; Ashton was usually fairly good at being able to tell if Michael was in the general vicinity. He glanced up at the house and saw some of the other servants carrying armfuls of flowers out onto the driveway. Michael’s mother never put flowers around the edges of the driveway. Alarm bells sounded in Ashton’s mind as he watched the flowers being arranged. Waiting until nightfall was going to be his end.

–

Michael took his time on the walk down to the Oak. He replayed the conversation with his father over again in his mind as he walked, and every step that took him nearer to Ashton filled his insides with more and more nerves. The air had more of a chill than usual and he pulled his jacket tighter around himself. As Michael approached the wall he paused for a moment and looked back towards the house. No one could see him here, and no one had seen him leave - he could quite easily just slip away without anyone realising. He shook his head to clear the thought from his mind before crossing over the wall.

–

From his treetop vantage point Ashton could see Michael ambling slowly towards the wall. Where had his carefree spirit gone? Ashton loved to secretly watch Michael sprint towards him, arms stretched wide with a grin to match. He watched the blonde pause by the wall and look back towards the house. Ashton could see that there was light coming from more rooms than usual, but he wasn’t entirely sure what Michael was looking for - he knew that you couldn’t see the house from here, so why was the other man looking back? Ashton watched him shake his head before he climbed over the wall. Slowly, Ashton climbed back down into the lower levels of the tree to wait for Michael.

–

“I don’t understand.” Ashton’s voice was quiet in the evening air and he refused to meet Michael’s eyes.

“Mother and Father have taken it upon themselves to organise a wedding,” Michael swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing, “that is what Saturday is for. It is to celebrate the union.”

Ashton chuckled darkly, looking up at Michael.

“How can it be a celebration when it is forced?”

Michael shifted uncomfortably under Ashton’s gaze, glancing down at his hands. Ashton sucked in a breath as he studied the other man, his voice wavering as he spoke.

“You’re going ahead with it, aren’t you?”

Michael looked up at him incredulously.

“You say that like I have a choice, Ashton.” The other man flinched at Michael’s words as he continued, “Do you not think I tried everything to prevent it from happening? You know how… explosive my father can be at times, and forgive me but I would rather avoid that event.”

Michael’s jaw clenched as he finished speaking, Ashton once again refusing to meet his eyes. The pair sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime before Ashton finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“What about.. what about us?”

Ashton’s hazel eyes finally met Michael’s green, hurt painted clearly on his face. Michael steeled himself before replying to the other man’s question.

“There cannot be an ‘us’ anymore.”

–

Michael had expected Ashton to be angry. He’d expected him to shout and scream, and demand to know why Michael was giving up on them. What he hadn’t expected was Ashton to suck in a breath and drop down out of the tree. Michael sat there in a daze as he watched the other man walk quickly away, looking back one more time before breaking into a sprint. Michael choked out a sob as he watched Ashton get further away from him, the bond between them stretching and stretching until Michael felt it snap. Waves of nausea washed over him as he realised what he’d done - what he’d said.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat in the Oak, eyes fixed on the horizon willing Ashton to come back to him. At some point the tears had stopped falling and Michael became aware of the coolness of the night air. He shivered involuntarily, still refusing to look away from where Ashton had finally left his gaze. It was only when tiredness began to tug at his consciousness that Michael lowered himself out of the tree and began to walk slowly back towards the house.

–

It was two days before Michael tried to track down Ashton. He knew that his words had hurt the other man, and he wanted to give him space. Michael ambled down towards the stables, stomach churning. He wasn’t sure how Ashton would take seeing him - Michael hadn’t seen him around at all whenever he’d been skulking around the grounds; this was something he’d found himself doing more and more as the wedding date approached. He pushed the thought of Saturday from his mind, smoothed down his jacket and strolled into the stables. It wasn’t uncommon for Michael to visit the stables - his horse was kept here after all - but very rarely did he visit without notifying a stablehand first. As Michael entered he spotted Thomas immediately. The man was well into his 50’s, having been on the estate for most of his life. Ashton used to joke that Thomas had come with the house when Michael’s family first purchased it - Michael was well aware that this couldn’t be the case. The house was in the hands of the third generation of the Clifford family - a legacy his father was clearly keen to continue.

“Good Afternoon, Sir - forgive me, we were not expecting you. Can I help you with anything?” Thomas was looking at him quizzically, Michael suddenly floundering to find an excuse as to why he was standing in the middle of the stable block.

“Good afternoon Thomas. I was, uh, I was looking for Ashton - he was supposed to be getting new shoes fitted to Shadow. I was coming to check on the progress.”

The older man frowned at Michael’s words, glancing over towards where another stable hand was clearly eavesdropping.

“Pardon my manners Sir, but I wasn’t aware that your horse was in need of new shoes. I’ll get it seen too right away.”

“Thank you, but I’m sure Ashton has it all in hand - I simply wish to discuss it with him.” Michael’s patience with the man was wearing thin - he couldn’t understand why Thomas was being so evasive about Ashton.

“Forgive me, but Ashton left your father’s employment yesterday morning.” Thomas frowned before he continued. “He came to tell me he was leaving after he’d spoken to your father’s steward - I tried to find out why but -“

“Thank you, Thomas.” Michael cut the older man off. “I was not made aware. Please ensure that Shadow is seen too.”

Michael turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the stables, breaking into a sprint as soon as he was out of sight of the doors. He continued running until he reached the river, skidding to a halt. He gasped for air, his chest heaving.

Ashton was gone.

Nausea reared up inside him, and Michael emptied the contents of his stomach out onto the grass.

–

Ashton.

I do not know where you’ve gone - I know why you left.

Forgive me. I never wanted this. If I could take back what I said to you, I would do so in a heartbeat.

I never wanted to hurt you.

I promised you my heart, and you promised to keep it safe. Perhaps all this time it should have been you who was worried.

I felt it.

When you walked away. It felt as though a rope was pulling and pulling and then snapped.

Did you feel it too?

Thomas told me that you had gone today. I had no idea. I never wanted you to leave - I did not expect you to leave. If I am being truthful, and I promised to always be, I do not know what I expected. You have been here for as far back as I can remember, and I suppose I just thought that you would always be here.

I understand now that it was foolish of me to think like that. How could I have expected you to stay, when I was the very reason you felt it necessary to leave?

I do not know if you will ever read this. I have decided to leave it at the Oak. I do not even know if you are still in this county. If you do find this letter, then please know:

You are my sun, my moon, and my stars.

I seemed to have forgotten that. My heart will always be yours.

I do not expect you to forgive me - I cannot undo what has been done, and I must go ahead with the marriage on Saturday. I need to protect my family and our legacy.

I hope you will eventually come to understand.

Eternally yours.

–

Ashton,

I often find myself wandering down by our tree these days. It is the only place I still feel your presence it seems.

My first letter was gone when I looked yesterday. I am trying not to get my hopes up. The wind could have dislodged it, or someone else could have taken it. I suppose I should be more careful in case the latter is true.

Though part of me wonders if I care anymore? It has taken you leaving to make me realise that I was far too caught up in what other people would think.

I love you. And I know that I always will.

Eternally yours.

P.S. I got married yesterday.

The whole affair was far too lavish, but mother seemed to enjoy herself. My bride is Elizabeth Merryweather, if you can believe it. I remember her from when we were young, though I cannot say we have spoken a word from the age of 6 or 7. She seems agreeable enough. From what I can gather she was also not pleased about the arrangement we find ourselves in. Her father was rather generous with the sum he promised to us if we married.

–

My love,

I hope you do not mind me calling you such. I thought it would perhaps conceal our identities once again.

My second letter has also gone from the tree. I hope that it is indeed you receiving them - though I wish you would give me some sort of sign to confirm my hope.

I hope you are well. Mother and Father left the estate today. They have gone to London to stay with my Aunt and Uncle - I highly suspect the move will become permanent. So now it is just Elizabeth and I.

I think you would like her, you know. Her humour is much like your own. I enjoy being in her company - though we both agree our union will only be one of friendship. Neither of us have any desire to parent children; though if our parents enquire we have agreed to say that we are trying.

I am not sure what would become of the house if I do not have an heir to leave it to - I suppose a cousin will take it on.

I had once imagined you and I sitting in the library in our older years. This estate is full of hopes that I once had for us. You are the only person I see myself growing old with.

Eliza was reading a new collection of poetry to me after dinner last night. There is one in particular that made my thoughts drift to you, and I would like to share a part of it with you, if I may?

“Oh, come to me in dreams, my love!

I will not ask a dearer bliss;

Come with the starry beams, my love,

And press mine eyelids with thy kiss.”

This is only the first stanza, and I am unsure who the poet is, however I feel it perfectly expresses our current situation. I see you in my dreams nightly. Forgive me if I overstepped.

I hope you are safe. My heart has not stopped aching since that day we last saw each other. I am not sure that it ever will.

Eternally yours.

–

My love,

It has been almost two months since you left.

Every day I find myself thinking about you more and more. I think Eliza - I have started to call her that - knows that something is distracting me. I am rarely in the house at the moment. Even though the November air sends a chill through my bones, walking the grounds is the only way I seem to be able to collect my thoughts.

Mother and Father have not returned from London. Mother wrote last week to inform us that they had found a large house near The Strand and were moving into it at the end of the month. I was not surprised by the letter's arrival - I seem to recall telling you that I did not think they would return. It seems as though Father has decided that I should receive my inheritance early. We have invited our parents to dine with us at Christmas, however both have declined. I sense that they are trying to encourage children out of Eliza and I. You already know that neither of us consider children to be an option.

I find myself wondering where you are more and more frequently. My letters keep disappearing, however I am still trying not to keep my hopes up in case it is not you reading these words.

I know that I already asked you for a sign, and I have thus far received nothing. I am simply hoping that you are choosing to keep your distance - I understand this of course. The more I linger on the events of September, the more sorry I feel. You did not deserve my harshness. You have always kept my heart safe, as you promised.

It still belongs to you, you know.

Eternally yours.

–

Michael meandered slowly down towards the Oak, pulling his coat tighter around himself and patting his pocket to double check he had Ashton’s letter. The chill in the November air was verging on unbearable - Michael was sure that snow would soon be on its way. He was unsure as to whether he’d be able to continue visiting the Oak when it snowed - if the snowfall was anything like the year previous it would be almost unreachable. Michael had walked this path so many times in the last two months he was sure he could do it with his eyes closed. He knew that Eliza was curious about his prolonged absences during the day - he just wasn’t sure how to explain to her why he was out so often.

I’m in love with my old stable hand and I’ve been writing him letters ever since he left two months ago. It broke his heart when I told him I was to be married.

Even saying it in his head sounded ludicrous. Michael was sure that she wouldn’t judge him for writing letters to Ashton if he explained that he was just a friend. But Michael knew that Ashton would always just be more than a friend to him. They had been through - and shared - so much. Ashton had his heart. Michael wasn’t certain that Eliza would understand; loving another man was not something that you were supposed to do.

Michael sighed as he climbed over the wall - the stones were starting to dislodge from his constant passage back and forth. The Oak stood not far in the distance, it’s branches barren. Its leaves had seemed to start dropping the week that Ashton had left - Michael had since decided that the universe was playing a cruel trick on him. The more leaves that fell, the more lonely Michael felt. He of course knew that the transition into Winter caused the leaves to fall; the timing however, Michael had decided, was uncanny. Even from this distance Michael could see that his previous letter was gone. His heart always jumped a little when he saw that it was no longer there. What he did notice this time around was something in the place where he’d left the letter. Michael quickened his pace, glancing around to check for any sign of Ashton.

The something Michael saw turned out to be a small box wrapped in a red cloth. He gingerly plucked it out of the tree, cradling it gently in his hands. On the top of the parcel was a small card, and Michael felt his heart beat louder in his chest. He pulled it free from where it was lodged in the cloth, turning it over.

Consider this a sign.

Michael sucked in a breath as he ran his fingers over the words on the paper. This was Ashton’s hand. These were his words.

Michael pocketed the card with shaking hands, sucking in a breath as he looked back at the small parcel. He slowly undid the knot on the top of the box and pulled the red silk free, wrapping it around his left hand. Michael eased the lid off the box slowly, holding his breath until he saw the contents. He let out a breathy laugh as he pulled out a singular acorn. Michael blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over as he turned the object over in his palm, his heart continuing to pound in his chest.

Ashton had been getting his letters. He’d read them.

Michael clutched the acorn to his chest, his heart soaring.

“Michael?”

Michael’s eyes grew wide and he spun around, hazel eyes meeting his green.

——————————————————————————

Notes: So. There is a lot more of this to come. This idea became far too big for the event and part 2 is already in the works! This is a real labour of love and the self-indulgence is rife. I really hope you all enjoyed this. It really is my own Regency forbidden romance and I love it - I hope you do too!

Any questions, advice or constructive criticism? Shoot me a message here

Taglist: @pxrxmoore, @queer-5sos, @irwinkitten, @kindahoping4forever, @sadistmichael, @loveroflrh, @mysticalhood, @adoringlrh, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @koalacal, @maluminspace, @malumsmermaid, @lashtonswildflower, @irwindoll, @castaway-cashton, @everyscarisahealingplace, @converse-luke, @zhangyixingxing1

#cashtonasfuck #cashtonasfuck writes #5sos writing collab #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #mashton fic #mashton fanfic #michael clifford fic #ashton irwin fic #mashton fluff

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chubsonthemoon · 3 years

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tagged by @storybookprincess!! (thank you!!) here are some of my fave fics I’ve written! tbh this was kinda difficult; I am very aware that nothing I write is neither perfect nor very polished (it wouldn’t be even remotely fun for me if I tried to do that), but mostly everything I’ve written I’ve written for the sole audience members of me myself and I (and also sometimes a friend :3), so these are some of my more recent faves. under a cut because this got kinda long, whoopsie!

tagging! @superish, @dodici12, and @owletstarlet! <3

Letters from Heaven: haikyuu!!, kagehina, 60k

this fic was written for last year’s kghn big bang and it was so fun! It’s the longest thing I’ve written yet, and boy oh boy it was such a challenge to juggle a bunch of different things that I hadn’t done on this kind of scale before, like longer character arcs and, especially given that this is a violet evergarden AU, describing things in a way that fits with kyoani’s style and VibeTM. My last longer fic, thy kingdom come, was about half this length and almost made the list simply because of how bonkers it was (like I hadn’t written at all that year and suddenly signed up for a big bang and then had to take a month long break in the middle because of school stuff, and then boom I ended up writing the latter half of it a few days before the deadline LOL), but anyway. It’s not perfect (nothing is!) but it’s chock full of recurring metaphors and long-winded descriptions about the sky and pining out the wazoo (basically: all wildly self-indulgent things catered to me and me alone) and I love it all the same. (also bajillion thanks to janine for this one heh she is to blame for most of my kghn madness)

over the edge (of all our knowings): hunter x hunter, killugon, 13k

okay this one almost went to my other killugon fic again bc everything I write is so self-indulgent but!! this fic is probably one of the few fics that I set out to write very intentionally? that sounds weird, hmm how to explain. I tend to write fic mostly to let out Emotions but tbh it’s so much easier and way more fun for me to do that through reading other people’s works--less work for me to read abt my faves than to write them, after all! so most of what’s on my profile before this fic is exactly that: I sat down at like one in the morning with my notebook and fever-dream scribbled out a oneshot that I spent maybe the next two or three days typing up, reading over once, and then yeeting it up onto the archive. but not with this fic! I had already written my Vent fic for the boys in question, but my goals with this fic were more deliberately geared towards examining and changing up my approach to writing: 1) I really wanted to explore gon after the world tree and what his healing might look like, but gon is Really Hard for me to write (the boy is so!! ARGHSLKDFJ). So: deeply inhabiting unfamiliar character pov practice. Asking myself, after every single line of dialogue and event and inner monologue, how this character would react and why. How will this impact their next action? How will it impact their relationship with this other character? How about this? and this? and so on and so forth 2) I wanted to find a balance with my metaphors on both a sentence by sentence and an overarching basis (I tend to just go for the first--I can’t help it I love purple-y prose jslkdfj). 3) Time!! I also went a lot slower with this one. Every night for over a month, writing a little bit at a time in my notebook. And I found that going slower...is actually really nice? Takes a lot of the stress away. tldr; this fic was basically one long exercise in me examining my writing (also ngl my creative writing professor’s feedback on my work for class really kickstarted this LOL) and boy oh boy was it satisfying to see it posted when I finished. I learned a lot! Also I got some of the kindest comments that made me tear up, which was so wonderful. god this got long okay moving on.

your heart, bright heart: natsume yuujinchou, tanunatsu & gen, 7k

after over a year of quarantine I’ve read more fic than I ever have in my LIFE and I have figured some stuff out about what makes me go absolutely bonkers, writing-wise. this fic was an attempt, after several months of reading literally hundreds of fics across dozens of fandoms and relationships and pairings (like geeze! hxh, run with the wind, hq, yuri on ice, the great pretender, ouran highschool host club, snk, mdzs, final fantasy xv, and yes natsuyuu too LOL), an attempt at making myself go bonkers, if you will. and I still can’t quite put my finger on what it IS but I know it has something to do with the naming of things. like an author will Name a Thing, very specifically, whether it is an action or a character thought or something very simple about the environment--and that something speaks volumes about the character and their relationships and the core themes of the series and it’s like. it’s like there’s a moment of understanding between that character and the reader, an oh! I know what that means. it’s wonderful and I’m butchering the explanation here but anyway. I still have no idea how to do this myself yet but goddammit I’m gonna get there one day. This fic was my first attempt in the Naming of Things. idk if there are any oh! moments in it myself, but natsuyuu is the perfect series for the kind of quiet that I think you need for those small moments.

holy SHIT this got long uh. if you’ve made it this far--thank you?? this was also useful for me to articulate what the hell I’m doing in hamsterland. Recently a visiting poet came to one of my classes at university and talked about language-making as a physical art. Language has a physical existence, she said; it leaves the body and enters another and causes a physical reaction in both speaker and listener. She talked about how writers are creators of physical things, and how writing is mostly thinking before the creating. The physicality of language. To say it made me lose my marbles is an understatement!! tldr; there’s so much inspiration everywhere, and I wanna write more!!! So I’m gonna!!

#tag game #rambling #my fic

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years

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The Queen's Husband [3/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 2.096

Warnings: None! English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: No one is free from apprehension - not even queens! Luckily for our queen, she has found herself a pretty nice fiancé! This chapter is a little short and not exactly what I wanted it to be, but I decided to post it right away instead of keeping on battling my writer's block. I hope you like it! And, as always, thank you to the lovely, kind, generous people that take the time to read, comment and reblog. I appreciate you ♡

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Marble archways and red-orange torches were the only witnesses to yours and Steve’s late night conversations.

Your hand was in his as you ambled. It was fairly inappropriate, even if you were engaged, but you couldn’t help it in the darkness of the hallway. The touch of Steve’s skin was thrilling and your palm was sweating from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. The feeling was brand new and fantastic.

This tradition was something you both committed to once Steve moved to the palace, three weeks after your betrothal: he’d escort you to your chambers at dusk, the only moment you could talk in private, even if it sometimes meant you had to whisper. Every other hour of the day you were surrounded by your handmaids, advisors and political allies and you weren’t keen on them listening to your conversations with the Captain; not when the butterflies you first felt in the rose courtyard were still there, brewing a storm in your stomach whenever you gaze met his.

Growing up as the heir to the throne of the Ergona, you’d been extensively schooled since your earliest days. Politics, mathematics, geography, english and other languages, diplomacy… You excelled in many topics, having been taught by the most brilliant minds in the world. Love, however, had never been in your syllabus.

Queens weren’t taught the ways of love and, as such, it was never your priority. Knowing you’d most likely marry for duty, with a suitor chosen by others, you focused on becoming a good ruler - a fair and honorable sovereign, born to love Ergona rather than a spouse.

Steve’s confession had terrified you - not because you didn’t believe him but because you did. You weren’t lying when you said you thought he was a good man and maybe that was why his love for you was so mystifying. Steve was handsome, loyal and kind-hearted. He could have any woman he wanted and yet he chose to love the one who built walls around her heart higher than those surrounding the Dragon Keep in Albeon.

Wariness was a hard lesson to learn but a necessary one: trusting the wrong person could cost you your kingdom, your crown and your life. No one told you how hard it would be – the loneliness and the doubt – but a Queen’s life was full of sacrifices. Yet now, every night after you bid your goodbyes to the Captain and laid to rest on soft feather pillows, your past decisions and insecurities kept you awake, taunting your mind with “what ifs” and lost possibilities.

What if you’d smiled more?

What you’d been less cold?

What if you’d been more talkative?

Maybe then you’d know what to do with the snake coiling around your lungs, crushing your breath while it screamed you were not good enough. Not for Steve and not for Ergona.

After every sleepless night, you’d watch the sun rise. The golden glow would slowly but surely spread across the inky sky, making way for dawn. It made you think of Steve and the way the blonde strands of his hair reflected that same light: your fiancé, blessed by Helios himself.

Amidst the anxiety, his presence was soothing. It confused you how the cause of your worries could also be their healing balm. Your days, as busy and hectic as they were, now suddenly revolved around the prospect of these slow walks to your chambers, the dark shadows of the castle’s walls mere bystanders to the way Steve was carefully, day-by-day, breaching through the queen’s careful armor until he found the woman.

It was scary but exhilarating.

Your conversations were easygoing and light-hearted. He’d ask about your childhood, your life in Foghar, your favorite color and favorite foods. In turn you’d question him about growing up in West Ergona, his days in the military and his travels.

You learned Steve was a sickly child who dreamed of being a soldier. His best friend was named Bucky Barnes - “he’s a punk”. He loved visiting Asgard because it reminded him of his mother and was very grateful to Abraham Erskine, the doctor who healed him.

Steve never inquired about your political agenda or demanded to be part of small council meetings. Much to Lord Fury’s chagrin, while you sat in stuffy rooms negotiating tax administration, the Captain could likely be found training archery with Master Barton.

He was tanned from his moments spent outside in the summer air. His already impressive muscles were bulging and his smiles were relaxed and frequent, as if joy itself had made a home in him. You’d never seen him so carefree.

Outside the fortress domains, Ergona thrived with the news of your nuptials. Apparently, there was nothing like a royal wedding to lift the nation’s spirits after a war and - unsurprisingly - the prospect of Steve becoming the new King was very exciting.

For the first time in your reign, you welcomed Western emissaries to the royal palace, including Steve’s father, the Duke of Arvenia, who was absolutely delighted with his son’s good fortune. A short, balding man who resembled Steve very little, the Duke arrived with an entourage of musicians, dancers and even his personal painter. His golden cape could rival a lion’s mane and his necklace was encrusted with the finest emeralds. A feathered beret completed his look, making him look every inch an exotic peacock.

Despite the obvious luxury he surrounded himself with, the Duke wasted no time asking how profitable the engagement would be to his duchy. Steve was flabbergasted with his father’s audacity, his face turning a shade of red that could rival his stepmother’s rubies - a girl even younger than you were. In an attempt to soothe him, you placed your hand over your fiancé’s, delicately saying that if the Duke of Arvenia had any questions regarding the marriage, he should take them to Lady Natasha.

She would sort him out.

You'd gripped Steve’s hand on instinct, your body’s automatic response to his discontent. It was organic, as if your own senses were attuned to his - perfectly synchronized.

When you felt him relax you let it go, even if the loss of his skin left an unpleasant tingling sensation. You weren’t expecting for him to grip you hand again a few hours later, under the dinner table, as Lord Pierce - an obnoxious marquess from West Ergona - made you uncomfortable by suggesting Steve’s virility would surely grant him many sons.

His answer to Pierce, in the same commanding tone he spoke to his soldiers with - made the older man wither like a flower in a snowstorm.

“I hope our first child is a girl, so that she may follow her mother’s footsteps and become a great Queen".

He then proceeded to toast to his words, his wishes dying in a smirk of wine-stained lips.

It was how you ended here, wooden soles clicking on the stone slabs of the corridor. After the second course you excused yourself from the dining hall. You thought Steve would chose to stay with his relatives - according to Natasha, he hadn’t seen his father in three or so years - but he rose from the table as you did, not even biding his farewells.

You missed the way Lord Stark pulled his squire from his belt, preventing poor Peter Parker from escorting you and Steve. No one else dared to follow you and, as soon as you left the room, Steve's hand reached for yours again - bolder this times, fingers entwining in a move so similar to the way his own soul was twisting and wrapping around yours.

You walked in silence for the first time. No conversation to appease the tension or divert your mind from the heat shared between your palm and his?

As usual, once they saw you approaching, the two guards that kept watch outside your chamber’s door exited to grant you privacy. They’d return once Steve left.

The Captain cleared his throat and spoke:

“In Asgard, where my mother was from, it is customary for a man to give a ring to the woman he is betrothed to. It is a promise of his commitment to her until the wedding day.”

From his jacket pocket Steve removed a navy blue velvet pouch. Long fingers loosened the cord that held the pouch closed - dexterous with a sword but delicate to the touch - and a ring fell on his palm.

The oval stone was the same shade as the velvet cloth - midnight indigo, dark as the depths of the ocean that crashed in Ergona’s shore. Dozens of tiny diamonds surrounded it, twinkling lazily in the warm firelight glow. Even more diamonds made up the ring band - and opulent jewel, made of the finest gems dig up from western mines and handcrafted by the greatest jewelers at the Duke of Arvenia’s disposal.

Too opulent for you and Steve knew that.

“I know it’s too much” he said apologetically. “My father is known for his grand gestures. But I miss my mother dearly. This ring is the only heirloom of hers I have left. I know it’s not your style, but it I would if you accepted it as a token of my affections.”

There he was, breaking down your walls again. Every carefully placed defense crumbled in the presence of his words, scattering to ashes when you couldn’t find dishonesty in them. You found yourself divided: one Y/N was rational, overzealous and logical, screaming at the top of her lungs to halt the other - wide-eyed and ingenue, desperate to break-free and be loved. It was the second one who said:

“Doesn’t Asgardian tradition say that the groom should place the ring on the bride’s finger?”

Steve beamed - a beautiful stretch of lips and cheeks and eye crinkles. He smiled with his whole face, making you wish for broad daylight so that you could better commit to the loveliness of it.

He slid the ring on the fourth finger of your left hand. The jewel was even heavier than it looked, engulfing your digit in blue lavishness. Delicately, Steve traced a line from the base of your finger towards your wrist.

“This is the vena amoris. It runs from your left ring finger straight to your heart. I hope you can see this ring and remember that my own heart belongs to you.”

He continued.

“And, if you allow me, I will cherish your heart as you have cherished mine.”

“How could I have cherished you heart if I didn’t know of your… feelings?” you replied.

He laughed - a short, breath-like laugh that tickled your nose.

“You did so by being you. That is enough for me.”

“I don’t know how to do this” you whispered, mentioning to the space between you, yet meaning it as more than the inches separating you.

“Neither do I” he took your other hand in his - limbs and worries and dreams laced together in the dark. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”

Wordlessly, you nodded, cracking a small smile as you swallowed your tears. You didn’t cry easily, but you found yourself getting more and more emotional the longer you shared Steve’s presence.

With his thumb he caressed the outside of your eye, temple, nose, then slid it downwards and traced your lips. Gently, as if touching a cloud, he took you chin in his grip.

When Steve's lips touched yours, the butterflies in your stomach broke free from their prison, spreading their crazy fluttering to your heart, your skin, your mouth. It was quick - the briefest of pecks - but it still left you breathless and wide-eyed.

“I'm sorry” he muttered, mistaking your awe for consternation. “That was too bold. Your Grace, …”

Raising your hand, you interrupted him.

“Don’t apologize, I beg of you. I’m just… overwhelmed. I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised.

“Our acquaintanceship is changing me. Being in your company is bringing to life so many things I never wondered about or deemed important. In so many aspects I feel like a new person. And it's disconcerting but rewarding. You make me feel happy.”

“And I don’t know what this means or where this will take us but I hope you’re not afraid of going there with me. Because I’d hate to be alone again.”

“Your Grace…” Steve started but you interrupted him again.

“And I order you to stop calling me Your Grace. At least when we're alone”

Then, in a move that astonished both Steve and yourself, you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him again.

#steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #king!steve #king!steve rogers #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x you #king!au #marvel!au #marvel fanfiction

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