#the fact she was pushing Anthony to marry but was on break of tears about Colin leaving the nest so soon plz he’s hee favorite best boy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rubysunnday · 3 years

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Favourite brother - Part 2

A/N: well, part one went down surprisingly well!

“So, Daphne is now a duchess...”

Y/N raised her eyebrows expectantly at her brother, waiting for him to finish his comment. She looked back down at her embroidery and poked the needle through the fabric. “And?”

Colin leant forward in his chair. “Perhaps, now, the ton will be watching you.”

Y/N let out a unladylike snort. “Oh, please. As long as Miss Thompson is around and as long as Daphne and Simon are in their ‘newlywed’ bliss, I will always be the wallflower of the family.”

Colin eyed his sister with a sad gaze. He didn’t miss the way she stabbed her needle through the fabric a little harder than necessary nor the way she practically glowered at Anthony (probably hoping he would spontaneously combust).

“Colin, I can feel you staring at me,” Y/N said, looking up from her embroidery to give her brother a level stare. “What is it?” “You truly don’t believe you are worth anything, do you?”

Y/N paused, needle halfway through the fabric. She slowly pushed it through, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes.

Colin was right. She didn’t see herself as worthy of anything. Compared to Daphne who’d captured the eye of the ton and then a duke and a prince, she’d had nothing. Her three older brothers had always been swarmed with suitors and Y/N had truly believed that, maybe, one day, it would’ve been like that for her.

But apart from an almost marriage to Nigel Berbrooke that was out of spite to her brother and sister and was unwanted by her, she had had no proposals and no suitors.

A fact she wanted to blame Anthony for but that Y/N knew was down to nothing more than bad luck.

If she’d made her debut a year later it would’ve been the same story. Everyone would’ve been captivated by Eloise and she would’ve been forgotten. Or everyone would’ve been terrified of Eloise and been forced to look at Y/N.

Either or.

When you were a twin of someone who excelled in everything you didn’t, it was easy to be overlooked and forgotten - especially in a family of nine.

But up until she and Daphne came of age, she hadn’t felt overlooked. She’d felt loved and seen as an equal to her brothers. Anthony hadn’t been so protective (He'd always been protective of them all. But compared to how Benedict was when someone upset or threatened his family, Anthony was a saint.).

Everyone fawned over Daphne when she began courting Simon - and rightfully so. But Y/N’s prospects and potential suitors had become nothing more than polite conversation between her and her ladies maid.

“Y/N?”

Y/N inhaled sharply and jumped slightly at Colin’s voice. She looked over at him and gave him a somewhat unconvincing smile. “I’m fine. I just feel somewhat underwhelming compared to my sister,” she replied, turning her eyes back to her embroidery.

Which was beginning to look less and less like a violet and more like an oddly shaped duck.

Colin, sensing his sister wasn’t in the mood to be proved wrong, left the conversation there. He also didn’t want to end up with a sewing needle in his eye - the chances of which were becoming increasingly likely the more he poked and prodded.

It was a beautiful ballroom.

There were candles in every window and garlands of flowers draped across the walls with petals dashed across the floor.

The garden was a lit with numerous furnaces and torches that blazed in the summer night and the fountain set in the centre of the sprawling, immaculate hedges and flowers trickled away.

None of the beauty, however, was making Y/N feel any better about being left out of yet another ball.

She’d been standing on the sidelines watching ever since she’d arrived. Benedict had offered to dance with her but Y/N hadn’t wanted to be mentioned in Lady Whistledown for dancing with no one but her own brothers so had declined the invitation.

Instead she chose to stand and watch the beautiful couples dance around the room as she sulked and drank yet another glass of lemonade.

“Why are you skulking back here?” Anthony asked, approaching his sister with a confused, concerned and curious expression.

Y/N swallowed the rather large gulp of lemonade she’d taken and tried not to give her brother a glare. “No one’s asked me to dance.”

“I’m sure Colin -”

“That is not the point, Anthony!” Y/N exclaimed, cutting him off. “I’ve had no one to dance with apart from my brother’s and Simon, who is now my brother too!” She almost growled but remembered that half the ton were around and forced herself to calm down. “Daphne has been the centre of everyone’s attention and had the suitors falling at het feet. I thought that now she’s married, they’d look to me - but apparently no one settles for second best.”

Anthony stared at his sister. “Y/N, you’re not second best to anyone.”

Y/N scoffed. She set her empty lemonade glass down, slightly worried she was going to through it at her brother’s head. “Then why haven’t you looked at me twice all season, Anthony? You walked off at my very first ball, leaving me to flounder. You never escorted me - not even tonight! You have, so far, not cared about who comes calling for me - which was no one, by the way - and you don’t care that I have had no suitors, no callers and no proposals!”

She was breathing fast and could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was angry. She was so angry and even though most of the anger was at the ton for being so vain, she couldn’t very well direct it at a ballroom full of people.

Instead she directed it at her older brother, the one who should’ve looked out for her and guided her through her first season in society but didn’t.

Anthony, for once, had the decency to look hurt by his sister’s accusations. He had a broken look on his face as he realised she was right and that he’d ignored her. He was stunned into silence.

But Y/N hadn’t want pitiful silence, she’d wanted an argument - for Anthony to get angry at her and prove her wrong but also right.

“Say something!” Y/N snapped, glaring at Anthony.

Benedict and Colin had noticed the, somewhat heated argument, and were trying to weave their way through the crowd to intervene before one of them snapped and punched the other.

Anthony opened his mouth and closed it again. He was speechless - a rare feat, indeed.

Y/N scoffed and shook her head. “Fine.”

She turned on her heel and disappeared through the crowd, heading towards the door to the garden.

Benedict and Colin made it to Anthony’s side and frowned.

“What was that all about?” Benedict asked, looking at Anthony expectantly.

Anthony swallowed and forced himself to look at his brother. “She hates me.”

Colin, who had sensed the argument was coming, put a hand on Anthony’s arm. “No, she doesn’t. She’s angry at the world and the expectations society place on her shoulders. All she really wants, Anthony, is you.”

“I’ve ignored her almost this entire season,” Anthony said, staring at Colin. “How...”

“There’s still a few weeks left of the season, though,” Colin reminded him. He gestured to the door that Y/N had fled through. “Go on.”

Anthony didn’t need anymore encouragement, he brushed past his brother’s and all but marched through the crowd towards the door.

Y/N had disappeared out onto the fire lit terrace of the house and was leaning on the stone bannister, trying to calm down.

She loved her brother. Truly, she did. She also knew that he would never do anything to ruin her prospects intentionally.

That didn’t, however, stop her from wanting to throttle him.

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled. She could feel Anthony watching her and heard his footsteps approaching closer as he walked up to her.

“Are you alright?”

There was concern - genuine concern - in his voice. Y/N was usually good at keeping her emotions together and not breaking down until she was either with her mother or on her own.

But all it took was Anthony’s concerned question and a gentle hand on her shoulder for her to lose any control she’d had.

Y/N felt the tears drip down her face and turned to Anthony, practically throwing her arms around him and clinging on to him as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

Slightly surprised by her sudden change in emotion, it took Anthony a moment to catch-up with the fact his sister was sobbing in to his arms and needed, not Lord Bridgerton, but her big brother.

Anthony wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed, waiting for her to speak.

Y/N eventually managed to get control of her emotions again and she stepped away from Anthony, wiping her eyes as delicately as she could to avoid ruining her make-up.

“Sorry.”

“Never apologise for being human,” Anthony said softly, sitting next to her on a bench.

Y/N sighed. “I’m just... compared to Daphne I am nothing. No one has even looked twice at me this entire season. I’m her sister and nothing more.”

Anthony put a hand on her knee. “Do you truly believe that?” He asked, looking her in the eye.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. All I wish is for someone, anyone, to look at me and call on me because they like me. Not because they wanted an easy way to my sister or to you or to Eloise or to anyone who isn’t me!”

“Y/N, you are a wonderful young lady and if those men can’t see it -”

“Then they’re not worth my time, I know,” she said, shooting Anthony an amused smile. “You sound like Benedict.”

“I believe you meant that Benedict sounds like me, he did come second after all,” Anthony quipped.

Y/N smacked her brother on the arm. She shook her head with a smiles she tried not to laugh.

“Come on,” Anthony said, standing up and holding a hand out to her. “Will you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Bridgerton?”

Y/N took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Of course, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Excuse me, Miss Bridgerton?” Y/N turned around. A young man, Lord Durrell if she remembered correctly, was standing in front of her looking slightly anxious.

“Yes, Lord Durrell?” Anthony asked, raising his eyebrows in his trademark brooding, older brother way.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honour of a dance this evening?” Durrell asked, looking directly at Y/N.

Y/N smiled and held out the arm that her dance card was on. “Of course, Lord Durrell. After I’ve dance with my brother, of course.”

Lord Durrell smiled and wrote his name on her card. “I look forward to it,” he said, bowing down.

Y/N curtsied slightly in response and watched as he left. She waited a few seconds and then squealed and jumped up and down.

Anthony chuckled, stepping back to avoid being hit by a flailing limb. “See, I told you.”

“No, you didn't, actually,” Y/N said, taking her brother’s arm. “You just repeated what Benedict said and gave me a hug.”

“Which is just as important.”

“Naturally.”

Anthony led Y/N to the dance floor and the two took up their positions.

“I don’t say this often enough,” Y/N said as they danced around the room, “but I’m so glad you’re my brother, Anthony.”

Anthony managed to concel his surprise by twirling Y/N around and using the brief moment she wasn’t looking to show his surprise before hiding it again.

“I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life,” she continued, oblivious. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Anthony nodded and smiled, twirling her around again.

Later on, however, when he was in his own lodgings away from prying eyes, Anthony looked back on the moment and had to hide his tears in a bottle of whiskey and the mountain of paperwork he had to fulfil.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton sister #sibling!reader #bridgerton sibling #bridgerton imagine

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mariana-oconnor · 3 years

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https://www.instagram.com/p/CSyP4C0JfMH/?utm_medium=copy_link

Imagine this, with winterhawk

Oh, I had seen that post around!

This didn't directly say it was a prompt, Anon, but since I was still taking prompts at the time, I went ahead and decided it was one. And so I wrote about 3000 very sappy words of Prince!Bucky and Gardener!Clint and their desperate pining.

“So, are you actually going to give this one a chance, or are you going to finally stop being an idiot?” Steve asks, and Bucky can already feel his teeth grinding together. He doesn’t turn around, though, still staring out of the window to the gardens down below. They are in full bloom and he can see some of the gardeners at work, as they always are at this time of day.

He knows each of them by name, from old Mr Lee, the head gardener, right down to young Morales who was only hired a few weeks ago and mostly seems to run from one end of the garden to the other - leaping walls where necessary - taking messages. But as always, he only has eyes for one.

Steve is right to be annoyed, this is getting ridiculous. Bucky knows he’s being ridiculous. He sighs. It is written into the law that a person of royal blood may not marry a commoner. And he cannot place anyone in a position where they might fear to refuse him. There is no way for such a relationship to work. The differences in power between them are too great.

Clint is pushing a wheelbarrow between the lines of the roses. The day is hot and he must have been out there for hours, for he has already stripped to his shirt sleeves and the thin material, darned in places, is sticking to his back.

“You’re being a fool about this,” Steve says, and Bucky notes as Clint leans down to pet the kitchen cat as she rubs against his legs.

“You say that as though you believe I’m unaware of the fact,” Bucky says, breaking his silence, but unable to break his eyes away from what he cannot have.

“And yet you persist in doing nothing, insisting that you must follow the laws and you cannot impose, but you refuse to sever the connection either,” Steve crosses over to him and looks out. “Bucky, I’ve known you since we were too small to see out of this window. I’ve never seen you scared to act before.”

“I’m not scared,” Bucky says. He finally tears his eyes away from Clint to glare at Steve. “You know the law, and you know what the implications would be if I were to approach him.”

“I’ve never seen Clint do anything he didn’t want to,” Steve tells him. “I saw him in the stables the other day ready to punch a knight for kicking his dog. If he doesn’t want you, he won’t hesitate to refuse you. But I really don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“Maybe, but I can’t know for sure. I’d always be wondering if he just didn’t feel he could refuse,” Bucky says.

Steve sighs this time, long and hard.

“Prince Anthony is due any moment, Buck. Are you going to look at him, or continue with your heartstruck pining?”

“I’m not pining,” Bucky comments, but he looks back at Clint all the same.

Steve might have something to say about that, but before he can, the door to Bucky’s study swings open and the court herald steps in.

“His royal highness, Prince Anthony Stark of Bow Island,” the herald announces.

Bucky is loath to turn around, but he knows he must. Clint will still be there tomorrow, and the day after that. One day he might decide to quit the palace, but until that day he will still be there.

“Prince Anthony,” Bucky says, smiling his clearest smile. “I was so glad you agreed to take tea with me. This is my good friend, as close as my brother, Lord Steven Rogers, earl of the South Marshlands.”

“Tony, please, Prince James” Prince Anthony announces. “Our countries are friends, and I would hope we would be, too.”

He is handsome, it seems that the portrait his parents had been sent was no lie, but Bucky does not consider that any great praise. In any case, no one ever quite manages to measure up to the face of the young gardener’s boy who had, not even knowing who Bucky was, had offered him a rose so many years ago because he had seen that Bucky had been crying.

“Tony then,” Bucky says. “And there is no need to use my title either.”

“Better for the two of us to be honest with each other,” Tony says with a grin. “After all, I know my parents at least are hoping for a closer alliance.”

Bucky has had too many of these meetings for his wince to show, so he smiles politely.

At least Prince Anthony does not care for the stilted conversation that etiquette would insist upon. He talks quite freely, and that is a relief at least. But Bucky already knows this will not lead to marriage. For many reasons. He allows his mind to drift over to the vase of flowers that sits on the mantelpiece, refreshed every morning with flowers before he even arrives. Today it is filled with bright purple roses that remind him of Clint in the rose garden.

Prince Anthony must follow his gaze.

“Are those from your gardens?” Prince Anthony asks. “I noticed them as I arrived yesterday - the palace grounds are beautiful.”

“Yes,” Bucky says. “You should take a tour.”

“How about right now?” Prince Anthony says, springing to his feet. “If you and Lord Steven would be kind enough to be my guides.”

Bucky freezes, but before he can suggest another time - a time when Clint Barton will absolutely not be present in those gardens, Steve chimes in.

“We’d be honoured, your highness,” he says, and his smile may look polite, but Bucky can see through that to the smug flash beneath the trained veneer of courtesy.

“Excellent!” Prince Anthony says, clapping his hands together.

His parents will be ecstatic that he is showing Prince Anthony such attention, Bucky knows. Steve knows that, too and when he offers Prince Anthony his arm, he glances over at where Steve is standing, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

“I’ve never been much of a gardener,” Prince Anthony says. “I have no talent with living things. Give me a machine, and I can understand it, but give me a flower and… well, Lord Rhodes likes to say that I can make them wilt by looking at them. But I swear I will not look too hard at any of your blooms.”

“I’m sure you are not that bad,” Bucky says, because he knows that is what is expected of him.

Prince Anthony laughs, and it is a nice enough laugh, but he can’t help but compare it to another laugh, a little rougher around the edges, but more pleasing to his ear. Bucky grits his teeth and forces the thought away. Prince Anthony is perhaps a little more… enthusiastic than he had expected, but he seems perfectly nice. And there is no denying that the connection would be good for the country.

But he could never be dishonest with himself like that.

Steve must sense his discomfort and, because sometimes he actually decides to be helpful, leaps into the conversational gap.

They pass through the gate into the rose garden and Bucky’s eyes find Clint immediately. His blond hair is almost black with sweat as he weeds at the roots of a rose bush, talking to it has he does so. Bucky can see the movement of his lips, and he wonders what Clint is whispering. His hands look gentle as he pats around the base of the plant, but his muscles are clear beneath the drenched fabric of his shirt.

He has grown a lot over the years. He is not the scrawny little boy he had been - orphaned and sold into an apprenticeship all that time ago. But the way he smiles at the rose is the same lopsided way he had smiled back then, and his eyes are older, yes, but just as kind.

Bucky has practically everything he could possibly want. And yet in that moment, he feels jealous of a rose.

He starts as he realises that both Steve and Prince Anthony are looking at him.

“Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts,” he tells them. Steve is glaring at him, probably for being rude. Although what did he expect when he agreed to this little venture? Prince Anthony looks over to the rose bush that Clint is working on.

“Oh, those are the roses from your study,” Prince Anthony says. “Oh, and your study must look out on these gardens.” The prince twists back to look at the palace. “What a lovely view.” He pulls away from Bucky to walk right over to where Clint is kneeling. Bucky takes a deep breath, as Prince Anthony looks down at the gardener. This will be a true test, he supposes. He has seen royalty who would treat gardeners as less than the manure they use to fertilise the plants. He darts his eyes over towards Steve, trying to convey that if Clint is in any way insulted or harmed by Prince Anthony, then he will be in serious trouble.

“Would you mind cutting me one of these?” Prince Anthony asks. Bucky lets out a breath.

Clint looks up at Prince Anthony, then his eyes dart over to Bucky for barely an instant before sliding away hurriedly.

“They’re the Prince’s roses... sir,” Clint says. Prince Anthony pauses, clearly not expecting that answer.

“The Prince’s?” he asks. Clint pauses and scratches at his neck.

“It’s a special type,” he says. “This bush was planted the day he was born.”

Bucky had told him that, a long time ago. He supposes it’s the kind of thing a gardener would remember.

“Ah, so I-”

“They’re the prince’s roses,” Clint says with a shrug as he stands up. He looks at Bucky, not Prince Anthony. “I have work to do.”

Bucky nods that he may leave and Clint strides away. Bucky winces, because he knows that was rude and if Prince Anthony protests then he will have to come up with a way of saving Clint’s job without offending the prince.

Instead of getting angry, Prince Anthony stares after Clint’s retreating back for a long moment, then turns to Bucky - and then to Steve.

“Ah,” he says, smiling slightly.

“My apologies,” Bucky says. “If you wish for a rose, then-”

“Oh no,” Prince Anthony says, smirking slightly as he holds up a hand to halt Bucky’s protests. “They are your roses, after all.”

“That was not… I’m sure that was not meant to offend.”

Prince Anthony smiles even wider.

“No need to worry, I understand exactly what was meant.” He smirks. “Thank you for our walk. But I really should go and prepare for dinner. Your highness, Lord Rogers,” He inclines his head to both of them, then strides off.

“This time it wasn’t me,” Bucky says as Steve crosses over to him.

“No,” Steve agrees thoughtfully.

“Can you check to make sure he really isn’t intending to… take offense?” Bucky says. Steve pats him on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t have your beloved fired.”

“Steve,” Bucky hisses, reaching out to try to smack at his friend, but Steve has already slipped out of reach, grinning broadly.

Bucky waits in the garden for a second, the rich scent of roses and fresh soil filling his nose. The gardens always smell the same, as if he could walk around a corner and go back in time to see himself, heartbroken over the death of his cat, hiding in the boughs of the old oak tree only to look up and see another boy staring down at him.

He shakes his head and crosses over to the bush of purple roses, pulling out his dagger to cut a bloom free. He spins it between his fingers for a long second, staring as the petals blur together into circles of colour, then slips it into his hat.

Darkness has fallen long before Clint dares slip out of his bed and out to the gardens.

Natasha is already waiting for him in full uniform. Ready to tell anyone who might ask that this is an entirely legitimate piece of midnight gardening that they are doing. And midnight wall-scaling.

He’s lucky that she indulges him in this. Although she does insist on having opinions.

“You could just be his mistress,” she says, as Clint cuts the flowers for tonight’s bouquet. “Plenty of kings have mistresses, and I think you’d be quite good at it.”

“‘M not pretty enough to be a mistress,” Clint points out.

“No one has to tell the prince that,” she replies.

“He’s marrying the heir of Stark,” Clint says. “And that’s what he’s supposed to do.”

“And you could be his mistress,” Natasha repeats. “You could buy me a horse. And a house in the country. As a thank you for all the times I helped you with your hare-brained ideas.”

“I just want him to have something nice to look at,” Clint says and Natasha sighs. He knows it’s stupid, and he knows that the royal family have flowers placed all over the palace for them. He had been making up bouquets for the welcome banquet two days ago. But this is just for B- Prince James. And it’s from Clint. He tries to always take the prince’s favourite flowers. The ones he had loved as a child. So often he looks so serious and like he can’t remember how to smile properly, and it’s been worse recently. So Clint will give him flowers. Because carrots don’t make such nice bouquets and Clint doesn’t have much else to give.

“I know,” Natasha says.

They hurry over to the palace wall and Natasha cups her hands together as she crouches, as she’s done a hundred times, and boosts Clint right up onto the windowsill.

The window to Prince James’s study is easy to unlatch, and Clint can do it one handed now, opening the window, dragging himself in, without dropping even one flower from his other hand. When he had first done this, the bouquets had been far more sorry for themselves and Natasha had had to gather up the fallen blooms in the dark.

Clint slips off his muddy boots and tosses them down, then pads barefoot across the room to the vase on the mantelpiece, but as soon as he has a hand on it, someone coughs.

Clint freezes as he hears a tinderbox struck and an oil lamp is lit.

He recognises the faces immediately.

Lord Rogers and Prince Anthony are in the corner of the room, grinning.

Clint doesn’t even think, he just runs for the window.

Something grabs hold of him and he kicks out frantically. They’ll have him hanged for entering the prince’s chambers. They’ll think him a thief - or an assassin. He shouts out to warn Natasha, so she won’t be taken with him and struggles against Lord Rogers, whose arms hold him fast.

“Calm down,” Lord Rogers says. “We mean you no harm, Clint.”

“Then let go of me,” he says.

“All we wanted to do was discover the answer to a mystery,” Prince Anthony says, stepping forwards.

“I wasn’t stealing anything,” Clint protests.

“We know,” Lord Rogers tells him.

“I wasn’t going to hurt anyone,” Clint says.

“We know,” Lord Rogers repeats.

“But you are the person who leaves the flowers in the vase,” Prince Anthony says.

“What?”

Clint freezes as he hears Prince James’ voice and stops his struggling.

It’s all over now. There is no hope. He has been discovered, and he will be imprisoned or he will lose his job and his home and everything he has.

He raises his eyes to look at Prince James - still in his nightgown - and tries not to look anywhere other than his face. He holds another oil lamp in one hand and his sword in the other. It looks very sharp, glimmering in the golden candlelight.

“Clint?” he says. “Steve, what’s going on? Prince Anthony?”

“We solved the mystery of your secret flower giver,” Prince Anthony says, clapping his hands together. “Congratulations!”

“My…” Prince James blinks sleep out of his eyes and looks at Clint. “You’ve been… leaving flowers in my study.”

“Yes, sire,” Clint says, looking down at the floor to try desperately to stop his eyes from wandering. He’s never seen the prince so dishevelled before, at least not since he was grown. His hair is mussed from his pillows, and there are creases on his cheek, not to mention that his legs are bare beneath the nightgown.

“Steve, I think you can let go now,” Prince Anthony says, and Clint feels his arms released. He rubs at them.

“I can leave,” Clint says. “I don’t have much stuff, but if I could talk to Mr Lee first about-”

“Oh good grief!” Prince Anthony says, throwing his hands up in the air. “This is painful.” Clint shoots him a look, which the prince ignores. “I’ve only been here less than two days and the pining is already destroying my sanity. I can’t imagine how much worse it’s been for all the people who actually have to live with the pair of you.”

“It’s excruciating,” Lord Rogers says. Clint looks between the two of them.

“Steve,” Prince James says. “Prince Anthony, I appreciate your desire to-”

“Prince James,” Prince Anthony says, crossing over to where the prince stands. “Sorry, I know my mother will be terribly upset about it, but I really don’t think we should be married.”

“Uh…” Prince James says.

“Don’t worry, we can still make some trade agreements,” Prince Anthony says, waving a hand. “But nothing in this world could convince me to marry a man who is so clearly in love with his gardener. And I really think you should do something about it.”

“In love with…” Clint echoes.

“It’s not,” Prince James rushes forward and reaches out to Clint, halting his hand part way. “Do not feel obligated to make any sort of indication that you reciprocate.”

“He literally came in through your window to leave you flowers, Buck,” Lord Rogers says. Clint feels himself flush, his cheeks burning with it.

“Through the window?” Prince James asks.

“Uh… yeah,” Clint says, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Every night?” Prince James says, his hand reaching out the last distance to grasp Clint’s fingers.

“Yeah,” Clint says.

“So how about you talk to your mother tomorrow about changing that law,” Lord Rogers says, and Clint doesn’t know exactly what he means but he doesn’t really care, because Prince James is looking at him with a disbelieving smile.

“Why did you bring me flowers?” Prince James asks, and Clint shrugs. But then Prince James’s fingers are under his chin, tilting his face up so they are looking together, and they are so close that the prince’s eyes are huge and Clint’s not been this close to him since he was a dumb kid who didn’t understand the reason his stomach got all weird whenever Bucky was around. But you can’t be friends with a prince if you’re a gardener with no money and no title to your name. So things change.

The butterflies in his stomach have never gone away, though.

“Kinda thought that was obvious,” he says.

“I can’t order you to tell me,” the prince says, and Clint is dimly aware that Lord Rogers and Prince Anthony are leaving the room. He hopes they’re not going to get the guards. Natasha will probably help him sneak out, but he’d really prefer it if she didn’t have to.

“Pretty sure you could,” Clint tells him, giving a half smile, but Prince James just frowns.

“I won’t. But I would like to know, if you are willing to tell me.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Clint tells him, scuffing his sock against the thick rug. He’ll never get over how thick the rugs are in the castle. His feet sink right into them. And he’s standing on it in socks with his toes sticking out the end.

“It matters to me.”

“I guess a lot of people are in love with you,” Clint says. “You’ve always got those noble ladies hanging all over you.”

“A lot of people think they’re in love with a prince,” Prince James said. “I don’t think many are in love with me.”

“Then I guess maybe I’m special,” Clint tells him. “I never really cared about the prince bit, anyway. Not sure it makes much difference, except you can have me thrown in jail.”

“I’m not going to throw you in jail, Clint.” The prince is staring at him like Clint’s somehow said something really smart, when Clint knows the prince has been taught by some of the smartest people in the world. There’s no way anything Clint has to say can mean that much to him. But Prince James just keeps watching him like that. It makes Clint itch underneath his skin,

“You really love me?” the prince asks.

“Yeah,” Clint says. “Not like it’s difficult… your highness,” he adds, remembering all of a sudden that he is still talking to the prince. Even if the dim light and the nightshirt have left him

“It’s Bucky, Clint. We’ve known each other for years.” The prince - Bucky - pauses and smiles. “You know, Clint. It’s not difficult to love you, either,” he says, and Clint’s heart skips a beat. He never. He never in a million years thought… But Bucky is still talking and Clint can barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. “I think I fell in love with you when we were children. Steve’s been teasing me about it for years. But I didn’t want - I don’t want you to feel like you have to go along with anything. I’m not going to hurt you if you don’t want me.”

“How could I not want you?” Clint asks, and the question genuinely baffles him. The idea of anyone looking at Bucky and not wanting him is just impossible in his head. “Of course I want you. I just can’t have you, can I?” He shrugs. “I could be your mistress.” The words come out before he can quite censor them and the prince’s face goes slack.

“I think we can do better than that.” He leans in and Clint can feel the warmth of Bucky’s breath caressing his cheek.

“How?” Clint asks.

“We change the law.”

The flowers have been clutched in Clint’s hand this whole time, through fighting Lord Rogers and trying to escape. But as soon as Bucky’s lips touch his, they fall to the ground and he finds something else to hold on to.

#Winterhawk #Winterhawk fic #I wrote something #my fic #my writing #historical au #royalty au #Prince!Bucky #Gardener!Clint #Pining #This is so sappy #SO SAPPY #and I don't like the ending #but I couldn't quite make it better #so this is now the ending #It gets kinda purple in places #Because olde fashioned #And also it's so ridiculously sappy

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chuckbass-love · 3 years

Note

May I request a Ransom x Y/n fic where he goes to a pub after being taken out of the will and he see's y/n at a table crying because she's just been dumped

I love this idea!!

A/N: Just a heads up, i’m keeping the events of the movie in this where he goes back to the house to switch the medication and then have him go to the pub after that.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lots of angst, alludes to smut at first and then pure smutty filth. Fingering, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, daddy kink, ass slapping and fluff overload. Heavy alcohol use, swearing and alludes to murder (the plot from the movie).

Word Count: 8,770

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @roooogers go check them out💜

Shoulder To Cry On

“Please, Anthony. Please. Don’t do this” your voice shaking with the fear of losing the one person who you assumed would always be around. Your brain trying to register everything he’s just said as tears drown your vision out causing everything to go blurry.

Weak body, silent screams and shaky hands. It’s real. But it doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream. Like if someone were to pinch you now then you’d wake up and feel fine. But that’s far from your reality.

“You’re making a scene Y/N, everyone’s looking” he looks around him, watching on as everyone stares in your direction, enjoying the free show as they dine.

Is he serious?

“Me making a scene? You chose to do this here in front of everyone, knowing full well how i’d react” the anger coming out, the need to scream consuming you, so you do. You yell. You pick the food up in front of you and throw it at him. Bread, prawns, even your red wine.

“How could you do this to me? You fucking cheating scumbag” bottom lip trembling at the words leaving your mouth, the sick feeling working its way through your body and eventually settling in the back of your throat but you stop it.

You had plans for a lovely anniversary dinner tonight. Your boyfriend of 4 years Anthony. The man you’ve always seen yourself marrying and tonight, you thought was the night. That he’d finally get down on one knee and propose. But that was soon ripped away from you the moment the starters arrived.

He started his little speech about how he’s had the best time over the last 4 years with you, the memories you’ve made together.

Then came the moment that everyone dreads. The breakup speech.

He confessed to not feeling as happy as he once did with you and then he admitted to having a connection with some woman at work. His assistant. Jennifer.

And as much as he played it off like nothing happened, you’ve known him long enough now to see all of the tell tale signs. The way he rubs his ear lobe, the way he avoids your eyes and most importantly the way he stutters when he’s nervous.

His face has guilt and cheater written all over it. Your whole world feels like it’s crumbling around you and everything is a mess. Including your mascara.

You always had your suspicions about Jennifer but he was the perfect liar, a genius at concocting up excuses. The way he’d make your mind do a full 180 with your thoughts and feelings. Just like a magician tricking the audience. He pulled the wool right over your eyes and love enabled that, stopped you from asking all the questions that you should have thought to ask.

It’s like now, everything he ever said to you, all the happy memories and plans you made. They all seem so fake, like he never meant any of it. It’s gut wrenching. Sickening.

He’s a beautiful liar. He did it so effortlessly. Getting into bed next to you after no doubt being with her, touching her in the places he was only ever supposed to touch you.

But before you can even get to him, the restaurant staff make their way over, trying to remove you from the scene but you don’t even give them the chance.

“I’m going. Don’t fucking touch me” you hold your hands up, slipping your coat on and grabbing your purse.

“I hope one day you’ll experience how you’ve made me feel tonight” and that’s the last thing you ever said to him, picking your stuff up to leave.

All that anger and hurt eventually brought you here, the bar right round the corner from your house. You couldn’t bare the thought of even going home right away, let alone stepping foot in there. It’s too soon.

The house that’s jam packed with memories of the two of you. Photographs of you. The bed you’ve slept in every night with him for 2 years. Your skin itches.

That’s when you see someone sit down next to you at the bar but you don’t look. He still notices you though. Ogling you as he sips at his whiskey. The way your dress hugs your figure, the slit up the side, exposing your legs.

You hear his thick Boston accent ordering. Still refusing to turn your head. You really don’t want any bother tonight. You just need to drown him out. Drown out the way he smells, the way he touches you, the feel of his huge hands all over your skin.

Ransom doesn’t stop though, stealing glances here and there at you, trying to figure out the perfect chat up line to dish out. Then it comes to him, no chat up lines needed.

“What’s brought a beautiful girl like you here tonight then?”

The smirk that appears on his face comes out in his words, you can hear it but you’re really not in the mood so you order another drink, ignoring the stranger.

But the second you speak up, your voice giving your state away, causing Ransom’s head to shoot up, leaning closer to get a better look and that’s when he sees it. Your eyes that are filled with tears, the way you’re sniffles follow shortly after they fall.

“Wait, are you okay?” Genuine concern in his voice, not wanting to upset you even more by prodding too much.

“I’m fine” you spit, just wanting to be left alone to wallow. To over evaluate everything that’s gone down tonight. But that’s kind of hard to do with this man talking non stop.

“You don’t look fine”

“That’s because i don’t need nor want anyones pity” ouch.

“Who said i was pitying you?” he rolls his eyes, not even sure on what’s turned you so cold or should he say who. But he tried. Which isn’t usually in his nature.

See the events that lead Ransom to that little bar are slightly different to yours but nevertheless, he’s here with you so it doesn’t necessarily matter. The story should probably be told anyway though.

All was going so well in his world earlier today, he was happy as Larry, living off of his Grandfather, taking all he could get from him. He had everything. A bachelor pad that puts his friends one to shame, a beamer, scantily clad women at the click of his fingers and invitations to all the best parties in Boston. He was the most notorious playboy, everyone knows him.

The moment he stepped foot into his Grandfathers study, nothing was ever going to be same once he left. And that’s a fact.

Harlan broke the news about his will. How he changed it recently. Leaving his nurse Marta Cabrera with everything. Every. Last. Dime.

Meaning Ransom and his family will be pushed out of the mansion and Walt will be kicked to the curb when it came to Harlans publishing company, Blood Like Wine.

He argued with Harlan for what felt like forever, tried his best to plead his case and he even resulted to taking a threatening tone to his beloved Grandfather. Which of course, didn’t work. Leaving him angry, furious even. His blood was well and truly boiling. He’d had it. He couldn’t hear another word of that bullshit. So he stormed out. Bidding his great nana a swift goodbye in the form of resting his hand over her arm.

Once in his beamer, he screamed. Smacking the wheel with all of his might before stepping on it, pulling out the space and up the driveway. He had to get out of there and fast.

But halfway up the drive, he slams on the breaks when an idea begins to form, causing him to turn around. Parking away from the mansion first before creeping his way back in.

He climbs the wall at the side of it, up to the secret window that he discovered in his childhood. Once he’s in he finds Marta’s medical bag, opening it and switching his grandfathers meds, making sure to take out the one saving grace that could ruin his perfect plan.

With that secured in his pocket, the bag is zipped back up and placed back where he found it and he’s leaving the same way he came. Back down the side of the house but before he can make a quick run for it, he sees his great nana in the window. Staring at him, without blinking. He waits to see if she’ll speak but she never does, so he turns to leave, making it back to his beamer without a single person catching him. Great nana doesn’t count, there’s a very slim chance that she didn’t even know it was him. After all, she didn’t say a word.

All done now though, the plan is now in full swing. Soon Marta will take Harlan up to bed to give him his medicine. That’s when she’ll give him the overdose on morphine. Or the good stuff as they like to call it.

And eventually it’ll start to come together.

Marta will get arrested for Harlan’s murder, the money and all of the assets that were once hers will be stripped away and they shall all be returned to their rightful owners. His family and him of course. One thing that should be made abundantly clear about Ransom is that he’ll only ever help or get involved when there’s something in it for him. However, he’s not always evil, he has a soft side, it rarely comes out but make no mistake, it’s there alright.

With his evil plan in place, he heads back home but before he even gets there, he passes a quaint little bar at the side of the road. He could really do with a drink right now. Of course a taxi home will be required but with thousands about to grace his bank account, what’s 10 or more dollars on taxi fairs. Exactly, it’s pittance to him.

The second he enters, all eyes are on him. All but two. Your eyes. You’re sat at the bar, head in your hands and from what he can see, you’re dressed all fancy. Too fancy for this place that’s for sure. So he makes his way over, noticing the disgusted looks out of the corner of his eye. He’s never been here before, so of course he’s the newbie to all of the regulars.

That then leads to now.

You turn to face him, your sad eyes meeting his dreamy ones. The only way to describe them. You find yourself on the verge of getting lost before you break the gaze. Nodding towards the barman who slides another shot over to you to which you knock back like it’s nothing before continuing to sip Gin.

Just one look from you and he can see that something isn’t right.

“What’s got you crying all on your lonesome?”

“More like who” you respond, chuckling as more tears fall.

He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off “i had the lovely pleasure of being dumped tonight” you muster up your best fake smile, as if somehow acting like everything is okay will suddenly make it all okay for real. But it’s no use, you still feel torn to pieces. Your heart is still on the floor, it’s been stomped on way too many times for you to count on two hands and you’re life is a complete shambles.

He doesn’t love you, Y/N. He doesn’t love you anymore but then again, did he ever?

“I’m sorry to hear that and for what it’s worth, the guys a jackass for doing that to you”

His comment has your brows furrowing in question. What does he mean by that? But you don’t even get a chance to ask, he can sense your confusion a mile away.

“I just meant that you’re gorgeous. He’s a fool” his nice side coming out to play, he’s never this nice to a woman unless he plans to sleep with her. But this time, it’s different. You’re different. He can never bring himself to pray on you like one of those other girls. Because he can see it, that you’re drained. You’ve had enough. Your ex made a fool of you enough already so who is he to add to that?

“Yeah right, he cheated so i doubt that very much” you snort, knocking back the rest of your drink.

At this point the bartender doesn’t even need you to ask for another, he’s probably realised by now that he should keep them coming.

“What an asshole”

Why does he care? He’s just a stranger. But still, you agree with him.

“Yup”

And just like that, a conversation blossoms.

Drinks flow as you explain the events of tonight and he doesn’t interrupt you. He just lets you speak, it’s almost like he can sense that you just need someone to listen, like all you need is to let out all of your emotions. Even if it is to a complete stranger.

Who by the way isn’t bad in the looks department.

Wait. No. You can’t think that.

Surely it’s fine to think it, just as long as you don’t act on it. Although, you are available now so there would be no harm.

“So let me get this straight. The man took you to dinner for your 4 year anniversary, let you get all dolled up, makeup, hair, nails. The works. Just to break it off with you and tell you he’s met someone else?” his brows raising and you nod, ashamed of how you’ve been treated because ultimately, you really did look like the idiot tonight.

You bought an expensive dress just for this very occasion and you did look the best you’ve ever looked. Radiant and glowing. Your makeup was on point, as was your hair. But now, you’ve got mascara everywhere and you’re way over the line of tipsy.

“I don’t get it. You’re well, you. I mean look at you and he left this for another woman? It makes no sense. There’s no way i’d ever give you up. No chance. No way” the way you feel your cheeks warm at his obvious compliment. You’re almost certain that he’s sweet talking you now. It took him a total of 2 hours. And he finally gave it a go. But you’re not complaining.

“LAST ORDERS” the bartender pulls you from your thoughts. That’s when you turn to look at him, still not knowing the perfect strangers name.

“Um, i guess i should get going” the very sentence makes that sick feeling come back but just like earlier, you push it away, stopping it before it comes spewing out on the bar. There would have been no time to run to the bathroom.

“I guess i should too” he smiles softly, shrugging his coat on and standing up.

That’s when the height difference is clear. He towers over you, making you feel small and dainty.

He gestures for you to head out first and as you glance back over your shoulder, you see him sliding some money to the bartender. No doubt, he paid for all of those drinks that you forgot to even pay for. Fuck.

These heels are way too high and your vision blurs a little as you stumble out the door but before you can even fall to the ground and face plant, he catches you, lifting you up and walking you over to what looks like a taxi.

“Come on you, let’s get you home. Where’d you live?”

Your mind goes blank as you stare at him before muttering “i don’t want to go home, i can’t go home. He’ll be there. Don’t make”

He cuts you off, pulling you closer to him and giving the cabbie his address instead. Wait. His place?

“I guess i should probably tell you my name being as you’re gonna be in my house soon huh?” he chuckles, spurring your own laughing fit.

“Do tell, mystery man”

“Ransom”

“I don’t have any money to pay you, not that i need to anyways, just tell me your name”

“No, no. My name is Ransom” his laughter fills your ears.

Strange name. Strange man.

“Surely not”

“Sure is. Well technically it’s my middle name. But i really can’t reveal anymore than that”

“Well i’m Y/N by the way and can i just say, you smell amazing” ah, the part where you make an utter show of yourself by leaning closer and closer, until your face is inches from his neck. That’s when you inhale really dramatically. Getting a good whiff of his manly scent. It’s intoxicating.

Luckily for you, he takes it all in good humour, probably because you’re drunk.

The rest of the ride back to his consists of you getting overly touchy, making random comments and with Ransom being the playboy that he is, it’s a real struggle for him not to fuck you here and now. Even in front of the cabbie. It wouldn’t be the worst place he’s fucked.

Yes you’re drunk but your hands are roaming to places they shouldn’t be and now he can feel a situation forming in the shape of a huge hard on.

Not that you notice, you’re too wrapped up in your own drunken state, blissfully unaware.

He can’t fuck you anyway. You’re too drunk. He’ll have to sober you up first.

The taxi comes to a halt and you look out of the windows, noticing a huge house, too posh for the likes of you but clearly fitting for a man like Ransom. He pays the cabbie before getting out.

You sit there clueless until you feel him scoop you up in his arms. He kicks the the door shut, walking the both of you to his house. He fiddles around in his pocket, holding you up with one arm so that he can open it and put you down on the couch.

“Is this your place?”

“It is indeed”

“It’s so big”

He lays you down, pointing his index finger in your face as he warns you “stay here, okay? Don’t move”

The child in you starts to emerge, the pout and puppy dog eyes coming out “yes sir”. You salute him and watch him strut away.

When he returns, his coat is off and he’s just in his white shirt, grey cardigan and his slacks.

“Here, drink this, it’ll help”

“Ew what is this?” your face screws up, disgusted at the taste “are you trying to poison me?”

“It’s just water, don’t be so dramatic. Drink it”

“What if i wanted another drink”

He just shakes his head disapprovingly. You’re really having none of it and he can’t fuck you like this. He makes it his mission to make sure all the women he’s with can actually remember what’s going on. Plus he needs your consent first.

“Drink. I won’t tell you again” his scary side showing just a tad but he soon shuts that off, realising how bossy and intimidating he sounds “wait, sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you”

Shouting and confrontation has always scared you. You’ve always had this natural instinct to cower and hide.

But this time, all you can really do is back up, to the other end of the couch.

“You’re just really drunk and it’s not doing you any good. Especially with everything that you’ve gone through tonight” wow. He’s even surprised himself with that one.

It’s not that he doesn’t care about you or your feelings because he most certainly does. He’s liked being there for you tonight, even if you did start out as two strangers at a bar. It distracted him from his own drama filled life. But your freaky side was showing on the taxi ride over and it awakened something inside of him.

Not in the way that some may think. Sure he’d love nothing more than to fuck you senseless, make you forget everything even if it’s just for the night but most importantly. He felt something more than just lust when you were touching him.

And as strange as that is to admit, it felt amazing. Like fucking you wouldn’t just be for the sake of it. You wouldn’t just be another notch on his bed post. It’s almost like his heart knows something that his brain doesn’t know yet.

Eventually he gets you to slowly sip at the water until half of it is gone and then the whole thing. You’re still tipsy but a little better than you were before the water.

“Did you want any food? I could order in? It might help?”

“I mean i did sort of throw my prawn starter at my ex”

He can’t contain his laughter, leaning back on the couch and throwing a hand over his left boob. You really are hilarious to him. He’s so amused by you and he doesn’t ever want this night to end. Even if it doesn’t end in sex, which it will. He’d be satisfied.

Something that Ransom Drysdale would never ever think or say.

“So food then?”

You nod before shaking your head aggressively.

“Actually no. No food. I already feel like i’m going to hurl. Food will just make that worse”

He seconds that, taking your empty glass from your hands and disappearing to refill it before returning it to you.

“You best drink up then if you aren’t planning to eat”

So you do as he says, stopping after a couple of sips due to your eyes noticing more and more about him that you never noticed before. Like his slicked back hair, his broad shoulders and oh shit. Is that a boner?

It’s gotta be right.

Your still tipsy self hands him the water for him to place on the coffee table for you and that’s when you do the unexpected. You make your way over to him, sitting way too close. Your bare arms rubbing against the soft and thin material of his cardigan.

“You alright?”

The way he acts like he cares, which, he does. It’s soothing, the gentle tone in his voice. The way he’s treating you like you’re glass and he doesn’t want to break you. And he’d be right, because you are delicate. Not your body of course but your heart, your soul, your mind. Not that there’s much left of your heart after Anthony broke it.

“I’m okay, i’ll be better after i get this dress off though” the flirty side of you starts to make an appearance. You look down, twiddling your thumbs as he clears his throat, clearly didn’t expect a comment like that.

“I guess i could fetch some of my clothes for you to wear?” his suggestion, whilst very cute and gentleman like, isn’t what you were after. And he’s far from a gentleman. You can just tell.

“I don’t think you understood” you turn around, back facing him “i need some help. Please” eyelashes batting as you quickly look over your shoulder at him and seconds later, you feel his hand move your hair to the side.

The zipper glides down with ease causing the straps to fall down your arms and soon enough. You stand up, letting it fall into a puddle on the floor. Leaving you in nothing but your matching blue laced, bra and panties set. Along with your heels of course. It’s the set that you bought for tonight too. For the sex you never ended up getting.

For the first time ever, Ransom is rendering on speechless, his mouth waters at the most incredible sight in front of him and he can tell from that look in your eyes that you want him.

Something he never expected to happen so fast. That’s when you sit back down next to him, resting your hand on his thigh.

“You know i should really thank you for tonight”

“Honestly, it was nothing” his words are aimed at you whilst his eyes are fixated on your body, not even trying to hide it from you but you just lap it up. You could use some attention right now. After all, your confidence was knocked with your ex boyfriend’s revelation.

“No, really. It was nice. You’ve been amazing. So let me thank you” but before your lips can touch his, he pulls back. Looking at you as his hand caresses your cheek, staring into your eyes like he’s looking into your soul and you feel close to naked in more ways than one.

That’s when his lips crash to yours in an intense and very heated kiss. As his hands roam around your half naked figure, you position them at the back of your bra, signalling to him that you want him to remove it. Which of course, he does.

He pulls away for a couple of seconds, taking a moment to look at your breasts. And the way he cups them with his large hands before using his thumb and index fingers to pinch at your now hard nipples, has you moaning into the kiss. Leaving your lips parted just enough for his tongue to slip in, adding to the build up.

The battle for dominance begins and it goes back and forth between you both, your hunger is very much profound. As is Ransom’s. The moans he’s eliciting are almost porn star like and he’s barely even touched you. But that’s the beauty of it, it feels so good that you’re keening for more. Which earns a low and raspy chuckle.

It doesn’t take long before you’re straddling him, legs either side with your hands cupping his face. His hands rested on your waist, squeezing slightly, almost like he’s making sure you don’t go anywhere. And after the day he’s had. He needs someone, whether he admits it or not. He does.

But that’s all he’s ever wanted. Is someone. Someone to talk to, someone who will listen and be there. He can’t complain about how that’s not the case though, he’s brought it all on himself. The loneliness, it’s killing him but he chooses to push everyone away.

His family though, that’s all them. They made him this way. A scheming, money grabbing playboy. It doesn’t mean the facade doesn’t drop once he’s all alone though.

However, it never drops around others. So why is it dropping around you?

“God, i needed this” he pants, in between his kisses that he’s peppering from your lips to your jawline and then your neck. It takes him next to no time at all to find the one spot that drives you insane and when he notices the way your whole body shivers. He smirks, sucking and biting it along with the equal amount of wet kisses.

“Me too. Fuck, right there” you mewl, back arching in his hands as they splay across it before moving down to settle on your panties. His finger traces the top of them, following them as it dips into your ass before giving your ass cheeks a hard smack.

God if this is how incredible you feel just kissing and touching the man then sex must be a real first place prize.

Just the way he’s handling your body alone is enough to send you over that sweet cliff but you stop it, holding back by pushing his face away from your skin, interrupting the hickey he was clearly in the middle of making.

“I wasn’t done with you, come back here”

You stop him again “i need you” you whisper frantically, both of your chests rising and falling. Your heart is beating like crazy.

“Patience baby” he winks, standing up with you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist and your arms holding onto his broad shoulders for support as he carries you up the stairs and into what looks like his room.

Before you even have time to pause for so much as a second, he throws you to the bed.

“I wanna take my sweet little time with you” he starts, the bed dips as he gets on it, hovering above you “gonna worship every inch of your body” he lowers himself so that he can kiss your lips, then your jawline, then your neck and then eventually, the valley between your breasts.

“Gonna show you what your worth baby, prove to you that you’re better than that scum who didn’t treat you the way you deserve” also something that’s unlike Ransom. But if there’s one thing he’s a pro at, it’s pleasuring a woman. He knows what the fuck he’s doing. He can talk the talk and walk the walk. Which he’s about to prove to you right now.

He lowers himself down to your sex, the way the pool is growing more and more is obvious, he can smell it and even see it, the way the light blue material has darkened around your tight hole.

You spread your legs open wider, your way of inviting him in. Of course he accepts. He starts off by pressing a thumb down onto your clit, moving it around in circles and causing you to jolt. You’ve been craving someone, anyone at this point to touch you there. Maybe that should have been a sign that things were doomed with you and Anthony since he’s not touched you in months. Maybe that was a sign you should have seen, a red flag that you were too blind to notice.

“Look at you, so flustered already. God i can’t wait to fuck you”

“Please” you beg, pathetically.

“Nuh uh baby, i told you i wanna take my time, starting with this pretty little pussy” he hooks his fingers into the hem, using that to pull them down and off of your legs before throwing them behind him, not caring where they land.

“My oh my, it is a pretty little pussy, isn’t it. God you’re soaked baby, all this for me?”

“All for you” your confirmation leads him to lick his lips before pressing a couple of open mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs.

“That man is an idiot. But i guess his loss is my gain. Ain’t that right baby” he winks as his kisses get closer and closer to your arousal covered hole.

“Ransom, plea- OH FUCK” his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking as his tongue flicks across it rapidly. A sensation you’ve never felt before that makes your breathing hitch, your hands run through his locks, no doubt messing them up, not that he’s showing any signs of caring.

All that Ransom cares about right now is making you feel good, making you cum.

“Like this baby? Like my mouth all over you?” his eyes meet yours as he uses his fingers to spread you open so that he can really get a good eyeful “you’re dripping” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself and not to you. He slowly slides one finger in before resuming his attention on your folds and your bundle of nerves.

“More, i need more. I need you” as flattered as he is by your desperation and need to feel every inch of his thick cock, he has to prepare you. Most of the women he’s been with have never had someone as big as him before, so he always likes to get them ready and you are no exception.

“Patience baby, you’ll have me. All in good time”

His raspy voice has you melting alone and the way he’s working you over, slipping a second digit in, should be criminal. How can a man like this be single and alone? It makes no sense. Plus it doesn’t hurt that he’s loaded too.

It’s a mystery that you’ll be sure to get to the bottom of once you’re done here.

A third finger is added and he’s curling them all more and more each time he bottoms out, your back arches again, your grip on his hair gets tighter. But he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stop. Not even for a second. He’s a man on a mission right now.

The way he’s sucking on your clit, the way his fingers are filling you up and the way he’s slurping at you like a drink is something you’ll never and could never compare to anything you’ve ever experienced. He’s a literal god and he has your walls fluttering around him, your clit pulsating in his mouth.

“Feel the way your squeezing me baby, you gonna cum? Huh? Gonna cum all over my fingers” the pure filth that he’s spewing, is what has you coming face to face with stars. And Ransom can feel the way your hips bucks up into his face, the way your hands keep him locked there until they are pushing him away due to how sensitive you are. He doesn’t budge though.

He just laps at your sex again and again before finally withdrawing his fingers, noticing your slick coating them and dripping down his hand.

“Jesus, looks like somebody made a mess”

You can’t help the way your cheeks warm in embarrassment which he soon puts to bed by stuffing his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Every last drop.

That’s when he takes it upon himself to drink directly from you, sticking his tongue into the honey pot, taking everything you have to offer “god so fucking sweet. I can’t get enough baby, tastes so fucking good”

A flirtatious giggle escapes, your hands covering your mouth but he rips them away.

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed or shy around me”

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” your teeth bite at your bottom lip as you shiver with the anticipation of what’s to come from him. His silence is deadly but exciting.

“Indeed i am”

He can most likely hear your heart race as he pulls away, getting off of the bed to undress himself. Starting with his cardigan and shirt. Once it’s off, his abs are revealed, his biceps are huge. You have the biggest urge to kiss him all over that chiseled body, sculpted by some kind of god. He’s gotta be a fantasy.

“But first baby” he trails off, pulling his slacks down and stepping out of them “you’re gonna suck my cock, get it nice and hard with that mouth of yours before i ram it into that tight little cunt” he pulls his boxers down, stepping out of them too and kicking both to the side before stalking closer.

You gulp, your eyes widen... he’s huge. Really huge. Thick too. Does he even need your mouth?

“What’s the matter baby? Is someone intimidated?”

“No” your denial, whilst very cute, isn’t believable. But he’s still going to let you have a go at wrapping that mouth around it.

You scoot off of the bed and fall to your knees, feeling even more dainty than you did before when he was towering over you like a giant.

“Don’t be shy baby, get to work”

Your hand wraps around him with your thumb swiping the pre cum that’s oozed out of the slit and you immediately pop your thumb into your mouth. You just want a small taste and as soon as the salty-sweet droplet hits your tongue. You all of a sudden crave more of it.

“Nice?” he asks, cocking a brow up “delicious” you smile, adding to his already blown up ego.

You gradually welcome him into your mouth, opening wider as each inch passes your lips until he’s almost bottomed out. That’s when you open wider and his tip hits the back of your throat making you gag, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“You look so good taking all of me in that mouth, bet you’ll look even better when you’re taking me in that cunt”

Is he trying to kill you with his dirty talk? Most likely.

He’s a different man to the guys you normally go for. Maybe that’s where you’ve gone wrong. You’ve let yourself settle for mediocre sex, mediocre relationships and maybe that’s why you’ve never been truly happy, like happy to your very core. You’ve never fully believed that you deserve the world. Never known your worth.

He grips the sides of your head, stilling your movements so his can begin and he doesn’t go easy. His thrusts have you making an even bigger mess, more saliva dripping down from your face to the floor. He’s loving every second of it though. But soon enough, just as quick as he started, he stops. Pulling out and looking at you, content with what he sees.

“God you’re fucking beautiful like this, on your knees for me like a good girl. Get on the bed baby” you do as you’re told, sprawling out on the bed and waiting for him to join which of course he does. As soon as he gets a condom out, taking it from the wrapper and sliding it down his shaft. Size XL. You spy before he tosses the wrapper into the bin.

“You ready?” he asks, resting his tip between your legs and lowering his body so that he can slide his arms underneath your shoulder blades. His face inches from yours.

“Please, i need you now” and with that he slides home, not stopping to let you adjust to every inch as it comes. You can feel your pussy stretching, the way it stings slightly but it also feels incredible. It’s bliss.

“S’tight baby and s’warm. Feel that pussy stretching around my cock”

Your eyes roll back as your head lolls to the side, presenting your neck to him and giving him the opportunity to finish what he started earlier, which of course he does.

And the second is lips are on your skin, his pace picks up and the pain turns to pleasure. You feel him so deep inside of you that you just know if he were to pull out that you’d feel emptier than ever.

“God, yes. Ransom. Fuck” your legs wrap tight around his waist, forcing him in even deeper if that’s possible at all but still you do it. Wanting nothing more than to feel as much of him as physically possible.

So you wrap your arms around him, your fingers tracing shapes on his back, causing him to shiver and growl loudly “fucking take this cock baby, take it like a good girl” he starts, adjusting his pace from fast and rough to slow and hard. Ramming in each time he speaks “such a good girl” thrust “loving every inch of this cock huh?” thrust “god this pussy” thrust “is gonna have me cumming way too quick” thrust.

“I can’t have that now can i?” that’s when he shocks you, flipping you over so that you’re on top “ride me baby, show daddy what you got” the nickname he uses for himself has your walls spasming, catching his attention.

“Oh you like that huh? Such a dirty girl for daddy, aren’t you?”

“Yes daddy” despite never using that in the bedroom before, it feels weirdly satisfying, having him refer to himself as daddy and seeing how he gets when you call him that too, the way his mouth hangs open, the way his cock twitches.

It’s something you’ll never forget.

You start off by collapsing onto his chest, your breasts pushed up against his pecs as you slowly lift your ass up before sinking back down onto him, earning a hiss.

“Yeah just like that, make daddy proud baby” so you do, you go again. And again. And again. Getting quicker each time until you’re a pro at it. You then sit up, continuing to bounce up and down, grinding as he bottoms out, with his initial instructions of course. He guides you through it and before he even tries to help a second time, he takes his hands away, noticing how you’re doing it all by yourself.

Grinding like the whore he’s turned you into. You can’t help the confidence beaming off of you as you go to work, slamming yourself down on his cock eagerly. You need that sweet release now more than ever, as does he.

“That’s it baby, make yourself cum”

The best pout and puppy dog eyes make a return “fuck me. Please daddy” and who is he to say no to you?

“You’re gonna be the death of me i swear” he flips you over again, keeping himself seated deep inside of you as his pace turns animalistic.

“Mhmm, give it to me, i’m gonna cum” you plead, not that he’d ever deny you a mind blowing orgasm in the first place as it’s clear you’ve never had one like the one he’s about to give you.

“Bet he could never fuck like this huh? Make you moan like a fucking porn star for him. Gonna have your legs shaking baby, hold on to me”

So you do.

Your grip tightens around his neck.

With every hit to your g-spot, he nudges you closer until yet again, stars cloud your vision and your toes curl. Your back arches up so that you’re chest to chest and you cum with a shaky and satisfied cry. He doesn’t stop though, plowing into you to chase his own release. Your legs are most definitely shaking.

Your walls continue to clamp down on him, spurring it on.

“God i’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me daddy” is all he needed to hear to go crazy and that’s when he spasms himself. His thick seed filling the condom and his thrusts get slower and harder. Riding both of your highs out.

Your breathing is heavy, your heart beat is out of control but you feel complete.

You’ve never experienced anything like that before.

He pulls out, disposing of the condom and rushing into the en suit for a second before returning with a wash cloth. He uses it to clean you up, taking his time and making sure to be extra careful with you. You try to prop yourself up on your elbow but struggle due to him fully ruining your body.

“Just relax baby, let me take care of everything” he presses a couple of kisses to your thighs and then your stomach, pausing to throw the wash cloth into the hamper before making his way back up to your lips.

He lays down next to you, pulling you into his side and draping an arm around your body so you lay your head down on his chest.

“So” you both say at the same time, causing a laughing fit to erupt.

“That was certainly an experience”

“I told you that i was gonna worship you and i think you can agree i delivered”

“You did more than just deliver Ransom”

“Please do tell me more” he laughs, stroking your hair.

“How on earth are you single?” the question that’s been on your mind since you and him got talking at the bar. He’s acted in a way that not many men do these days, it’s hard to believe no ladies are lining up to be with him.

Plus his dick and head game is A-1.

“I’m single more by choice than anything else”

“How come?” you feel bad for asking but surely if you were over stepping the line then he’d say.

“I mean, my family life hasn’t always been the best. I’ve learnt to not trust anyone that i’m related to and growing up with parents that just chucked money at stuff to solve it. If i was upset then it was always take this money, go shopping. Or if i needed my mother for girl advice it always lead to my dad telling me i should never trust women which is rich seeing as he cheats on my mom all the time”

It’s quite sad actually, a man that seems to have it all together, is clearly broken inside.

“I’m sorry, that’s awful. I’m guessing that’s why you’re single then, why you choose to keep away from dating”

“Yup. I prefer to just fuck with no strings attached. It’s easier, I don’t have to do anything other than make them cum. I’m not filled with pressure to be the perfect boyfriend. I can just relax but sometimes it gets lonely”

“How’d you mean? Sorry if i’m prying” you rest your head on your hands as you look up at him, his finger tracing shapes on your back now.

“It’s fine honestly, don’t sweat it. I guess the best way to explain it is that i can have all this money from my grandfather, all the cars, girls and friends in the world but i can’t trust any of them enough to let them see me when i’m laying in bed at night. The times when i just want someone to hold, someone to hold me, tell them about my day, hear about theirs. Someone to wake up next to and fall asleep next to. But whenever a woman gets even remotely close to me in a way that is too deep. I back off, i give her the cold shoulder and just ghost. I get freaked out because to me, there’s nothing scarier than someone seeing all of me, the good, the bad and the ugly”

It takes you just a second to realise, he’s just bared his soul to you. After saying that he backs off whenever a woman gets too close. After saying that he struggles to trust. That he’s scared of being himself around someone. He’s just been himself around you. And you have no doubt that he feels comfortable enough with you to do that so that’s gotta count for something, surely.

“I get it. It’s hard. Loving someone is easy but allowing them to love you, that’s the scary part. Because ultimately when you let someone in enough to let them love you whole heartedly it opens you up to the chance of heartbreak i mean, look at my life”

You both laugh a little “It’s not even just regular heartbreak, it’s the fear of being cheated on, having my trust shattered. Having someone use me for my family’s money”

“Well, for what it’s worth. I think you need to just bite the bullet, let that guard down. How do you ever expect to find what you want and need if you’re not willing to open yourself up to it. It’s a risk that is worth it sometimes, that eventually, all the heartaches will lead to something greater or someone. Someone that will accept every flaw you have and be there regardless of how messy things can get”

Ransom is just so relaxed right now, he feels at peace, at ease with you. The way you’re listening. Your head rested on his chest, letting him hold you and giving him proper responses, it shows you’re paying attention, you want to be there for him. He’s completely taken back by you. How could anyone want to cheat and leave you, it’ll always remain a mystery to him.

You’re like this ray of light, that came into his life tonight out of the blue. Someone who’s hurting too but somehow you amazing him with the sunshine you provide. You’re everything he’s always wanted in a girlfriend but he’s spent years pushing girls just like you to the side due to fear. Only difference is, he’s able to be himself with you. With them, he could never.

His body lets go as he turns on his side, turning you with him so that he’s cuddling you from behind.

“You’re right. I’ll get there eventually. I just, i need time”

Your silent for a while, taking his words in before you speak.

“Seems like you don’t need any time at all”

That’s when you hear quiet snores from behind you, he’s dozing. And after a couple of minutes, you decide that it’s probably time you see yourself out, you never wanna over stay your welcome and right now with him asleep, you already have.

But before you can even get off the bed, you need to remove his hand from around your frame. Which isn’t going to be easy considering you have to try not to wake him up.

You succeed, finally managing to scoot over to the edge of the bed. But that’s when you hear his tired groans, followed by a hand to your wrist.

“Don’t leave me” his voice is laced with worry

“What?”

“Everyone leaves me” his words break your heart all over again, you’ve been left before and you’re not about to do this to him. Besides, it’s not like you wanted to, you just didn’t think he was the type to want you here all night.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to be here when you woke up”

“Well, you thought wrong. Come back and cuddle, don’t leave like everyone else does”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you to crawl back into his arms. He presses a couple of kisses to your shoulder as you get under the covers with him. Then the kisses move to your cheek and eventually, your lips.

“I’m here to stay then i guess”

“Good”

You feel warm and happy somehow in his arms, like everything has gone away, even if it’s just temporarily.

“Goodnight”

“Goodnight Ransom. sweet dreams” something you’ve always said throughout your whole life. It’s a nice thing to say and it has him smiling into one last kiss before he closes his eyes for the night.

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

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chusui00 · 3 years

Text

Not Meant To Be

Word Count: 2,107

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Summary: The Bridgerton family and the Duke have been invited to a picnic that was planned by yours truly. Tensions begin to grow, and things don’t go quite as you hoped they would.

TW: none

Part 2/6

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

Today’s weather of sunshine and blue skies called for a picnic. I gave clear instructions to Cook that he should prepare a delicious meal and treats, including Simon’s favorite of gooseberry pie. I would never forget something so important about him because it always came in handy.

I then go to find our butler, Charles, and say, “Please send invitations to the Bridgertons and the Duke of Hastings, Charles. There will be a picnic at the park, and do tell them that it will be late at 1pm.” He bows in response, and repeated my words before he left to complete his tasks.

With a nod of satisfaction, I left the main floor then up the stairwell to change my attire. What I was currently wearing fell short of today’s planned event, and I needed to win Simon back. Once inside my bedroom, I closed the door and quickly strode to the wardrobe to see my options.

My thoughts roamed to the man who promised that we would spend the rest of our lives together, which made my blood boil with rage. Men these days were either too dense or too arrogant or had little backbone. Simon was a mixture of having a huge ego and vulnerable when he opens up to the people that know his true personality.

None of this was my fault whatsoever. I left for only a mere three months to study abroad in France, then I return to the ‘wonderful’ news of his engagement to a girl named Daphne Bridgerton. A trip to London hadn’t been something I expected for myself, but I came to the city for him and no other reason.

In truth, Simon technically was still my fiancé, although I knew there was an explanation for everything that took place while I was absent. As a matter of fact, he brushed off the situation like it was a speck of dust that ruined his perfect image to the desperate mamas and equally egotistical lords.

“Good heavens, I’m going to get wrinkles if I keep thinking about the “what-ifs” and not do anything to change them.” I huff in exasperation at my own foolishness, a bit disappointed in myself for having such thoughts when the damage had yet to be done.

After endless decision-making, I chose to wear a yellow dress with a simple pink floral design from the sleeves to the hem of its skirt, and I twirl in front of the mirror with a bright smile. It wasn’t a ball gown, but this would surely make Simon realize that he wants me more than anyone in all of Grovensor Square. It just had to.

I had to admit, the dress itself was too revealing for a lady of my status. Well, at least it would be just myself, Simon, and the Bridgertons alone for a picnic. A reminder to cover my legs repeated itself over and over in my mind, yet I had a feeling that I would catch the attention of everyone’s eyes anyway.

The clock rang the second its big small hand reached 12pm, which meant there was an hour left for preparations and riding to the park. “Marianne! Please call for the carriage, and tell chef to hurry!” I shouted into the air, and I heard Marianne reply from down the hall. Perhaps I was rushing for punctuality-sake, but a host or hostess must never arrive later than their guests.

It was a good thing that mama had long left for tea at Lady Farland’s estate, and papa was probably gambling at the gentlemen’s club again. I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if he came home with news that he either won lost of money or lost a majority of what he gambled. No one could tell me that the picnic was meant to open Simon’s eyes and see just me in them rather than that so-called “flawless” Bridgerton girl.

Nonetheless, I had to get going before they gossiped of my tardiness if I wasn’t already at the location. Time seemed to blur from when I scurried down the stairs to gather everything I needed to when I got into the carriage and made it safely to the park. The next thing I knew, I was trying my best not to laugh at a discreetly explicit joke Benedict had shared amongst ourselves.

Anthony looked like he was going to strangle his brother or maybe he was going to give him a pat on the shoulder? I couldn’t tell because I was too preoccupied with devouring my favorite sandwich while I brushed my shoulder against Simon’s. Of course this got his attention, and he whispered into my ear, “Now is not the time nor place to play, y/n. Behave yourself.”

His warning provoked something inside of me, but there were too many people who would witness the indecency behind my innocent act. “My apologies, your Grace. I’ll be a good girl for you.” I whispered in reply, then continued to enjoy my delicious sandwich as though I did nothing wrong in the first place.

I knew what I was doing to him, and he liked it. He knew what would happen if I went further, and I was fanning the flames with fervor. “Is Daphne aware of our relationship? Sorry, I meant, what it was supposed to become? You know, such as getting married? Living together and in the country?”

Simon’s jaw clenched just like when he used to have me underneath him, calling his name and coming undone by his touch as I squeezed tighter around him. Those nights were by far the best I had ever experienced, and he treated me with such tenderness after we were spent.

“Don’t you remember the great times we had, love? Everything fell apart when I came to London and found you dancing with the red-headed girl in the moonlight.” I scowled under my breath, then I slowly calmed myself down before I could ruin this lovely picnic with a beautiful family and my old lover.

I needed a moment alone, so I stood up and sheepishly excused myself from the blanket before walking away. It was almost as though the night I found myself standing at the lake was repeating itself again, but this time, I knew where I was going and no tears would shed. No, this time was different than last. Instead of crying because I couldn’t control some situations, I chose to think about I would take back Simon for myself.

Seeing Simon chuckle and comment on every little thing Daphne said created small cracks on my heart. I couldn’t think of when he used to do that with me, and I close my eyes to forget all of the recently bad memories. Heavy footsteps approached from behind, but I was too distracted by the wrong Simon had done to me.

“Y/n, are you alright? You left so suddenly, and everyone is worried about you.” Anthony softly called out to me, his hand resting on my shoulder to turn me around and see the miserable state I was in. “I’ll be better, my lord. There’s no need to waste your worry on me.” I mustered a fake smile to dissipate his concern for me, but apparently he had dealt with heartbroken maidens before.

The Viscount gently pulled me into his arms, and rocked our bodies back and forth. I was speechless for I had no idea what he was doing, and yet I didn’t want him to stop. It felt pleasant to be comforted by a warm embrace that held a promise of always being there when it was most needed in times of anguish.

“You are a strong woman, y/n. You don’t need to act as though nothing can break through your walls. You’re still human, and that’s okay. Believe me, I know what it’s like to feel helpless.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and smiled when I pulled away to stare at him with wide eyes. I always knew what kind of man he was, but the side of him that I admired truly was a rare sight to behold.

What felt like an eternity of comfortable silence was interrupted by Eloise who came searching for her brother and I after he had been gone for too long. “Mama won’t stop spouting nonsense that you’ve gotten lost, brother. We had to stop her from creating a search party.” She snickered at the fresh memory, and it stopped when she realized that Anthony was hugging me unusually close to his chest.

I caught on and quickly pushed myself away, then I fixed my dress before thanking her. “Thank you for taking the responsibility, Eloise. You’ve found us alright, and I believe we best return to your family.” Anthony cleared his throat, a big embarrassed that the particular sister of his had seen something she would never let go.

“Yes, Miss Denbow is right. Let’s return before mother actually gathers a search party for three people.” He leads the way, and I smile awkwardly at Eloise as I walk past her. I then let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding in since she found Anthony and I, but I hoped that she wouldn’t mention it when we got back to the picnic.

Once there, Lady Bridgerton literally shed tears of joy as soon as she saw my face and brought me into a hug. What was with the Bridgertons and hugging? I could see Simon lean over to Anthony, his mouth forming the words, “Thank you for bringing her back safely.” Anthony nodded in reply, then sat down in between Colin and Benedict before he grabbed his glass of wine to take quite a long sip.

Well, it was back to where I started. I didn’t want to ask questions and make matters worse, but I knew that the current engagement wasn’t going to last for long. According to Lady Whistledown, Queen Charlotte was not convinced of the proclaimed love that everyone said Simon and Daphne shared.

I had to say it. Otherwise, I would lose the love of my life to a woman who gained Her Majesty’s favor, and I would be lonely until the day I die. “The Duke and I were once lovers, but now he’s going to marry Miss Bridgerton.” Complete and utter silence. I take in a deep breath before I continue.

“I had traveled to France for three months, and the Duke asked me to come see him here, in London. I truly thought that he was going to marry me, but I was proven wrong and a fool. He’s pretending as though we didn’t have a beautiful relationship before he chose to help her and she him.”

Lady Bridgerton was the first to break, and she began to stumble over her words while overcoming the insurmountable shock that I gave to everyone. Eloise tried what she could to stop herself from laughing, Benedict smacked her arm while he was struggling to do the same.

Colin couldn’t find the right words, and Anthony spat out his wine. Except for the two youngest children who were playing in a flower field, we adults all sat together with no help to describe what our mixed emotions were. “What is the matter with you, y/n? Did you even think this through before you babbled on about the past? If I had known that you were so childish, I would’ve left you a long time ago.”

Simon glared cold daggers in my direction, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The man who I loved was now a stranger with a much better woman than I, so there was nothing I could do now to take him back. “You’re right, Simon. I’m such a child, and I don’t know any better than to tell the truth when living a lie is all the more tempting.”

I gave my deepest apologies to Lady Bridgerton, promising her that I would make up for my demeanor with tea and a visit to the spa one day. I then said my farewells to the Bridgertons, but I didn’t spare the slightest of glances to Simon who looked like he was going to let out a fury of anger.

It served him right for playing with my heart, and if he was so play a part not meant for him that would end in heartbreak, then so be it. I knew someone who could help me make him regret losing me, and they were a professional when it came to such lengths.

Just you wait, Simon Basset. Just you wait.

#bridgerton #simon basset #bridgerton imagine #duke of hastings #reader x simon basset

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speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

Bring Him Light - xv (King!Steve Rogers x Reader

FINAL CHAPTER

Chapter Summary: The war has come, separating the king and queen for seven long months.

Warnings: MAJOR character death(s), (complicated) child birth, angst, anxiety, FINAL CHAPTER

Word Count: 5k

BRING HIM LIGHT MASTERLIST

Thank you for riding this out with me, guys. xoxo

<- Last Part

The clashing of swords and hollers of men filled King Steven’s ears. The mayhem took his breath away. In all his years of battles and wars, he had yet to see something this destructive.

From what he was able to gather, the fighting had, thankfully, left the north. King Anthony and his armies were able to push Thanos to the northern border, but that didn’t mean York was winning. The scouts informed him that the enemy was able to cut York’s army to half its size. Steven was also told that Thanos’s army was steadily growing – it was as if every time one soldier fell, two would take their place. York and its king were tired and losing – in desperate need of an assist, whether Anthony Stark would admit that or not.

“Just like old times.” Lord James told his king with a bitter chuckle.

“I’ll get you home, Bucky,” Steven promised. “Back to that lovely wife.”

“Well, my queen would have my head if I let anything happen to you. So, likewise, Steven. Likewise.”

It was different now – the two old friends knew that. Before when they rode off into countless wars together, only Steven had a woman waiting for him back home. Whether it was Margaret or Sharon, he still had a wife. But now, both men had two worried women waiting on them back in Brooken.

Before he had left to lead his men, you cried in his arms, begging him to come back in one piece. The somber moment witnessed by what felt like the entire country. They watched as you wrapped the white fabric – torn from your wedding gown – around the hilt of his sword, kissing the blade and praying for his safety. Brooken watched as their king kissed his queen one last time before mounting his horse and riding off. Everyone – but you most of all – wished for his safe return.

Steven’s eyes narrowed as he withdrew his sword and his fist wrapped tightly around his horse’s reins. Around him, he heard hundreds of swords being drawn from their sheaths. He raised his blade high into the air, kicking at his horse’s hind as he sped off into battle with his army marching behind him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Days into the war…

You sat at the fountain – the first place you laid eyes on Steven. The water was no longer running; the irrigation turned off for the cold, bitter winter. The flowers that decorated the garden had wilted away. Only a select few remained. You visited it every day, always with the intention of picking the surviving few. But you could never bring yourself to do it, scaring yourself into thinking that the flowers were Steven’s lifeforce. Instead, you opted to stare blindly at them as if they’d conjure up your husband like magic.

You heard footsteps approach but did not think you were in any danger. An assassin would be taking their strides carefully with light footsteps. This person’s steps were soft but in no way near quiet.

“(Y/N).” Your mother greeted as you turned to face her. She had Morgan in her arms. Your baby sister thrashing about in the thick garments that she was dressed in.

“Mother.” You smiled at her though she saw the sadness in your eyes. You stood and relieved her of the child, rocking slightly to help calm her. “She’s gotten big.” You looked over at your mother who smiled at you both with teary eyes. “Don’t you dare cry.”

“I can’t help it.” She smiled sadly. “Seeing my eldest and my youngest together… It’s heartwarming in this cold, cold times.”

“Did Harvey go with father?” You asked. “I would’ve thought he’d be safeguarded considering he is the heir of York.”

Your mother sat down at the fountain. Her hand nervously wrapped around the pendant of her necklace. You stopped your movements as you stared at her. She swallowed thickly and furiously dabbed beneath her eyes, attempting to stop her tears. She let out a shaky breath, the hot air materializing itself in the cold winter as thick white vapor. You frowned and asked her again.

“There’s something you have to know…” She whispered. You didn’t need to hear the rest of it. Her tone – the grief and the pain, feelings you were all too familiar with – gave it away.

“Mother – “

“You asked before your wedding where he was. Your father lied and told you he was too tired to travel… The truth was…” she took a sharp breath, a few tears fell. “He was too ill.” As if sensing your sorrow, Morgan began to thrash about even more. You shushed her, patting her back soothingly, wishing someone were doing the same to you. “We always thought he was healthy… He gave us no reason to believe otherwise. Then, days after you left, he started coughing up blood. He ran a fever for days, dropping himself into a coma. When the fever finally broke and he woke up, we were told he didn’t have long.”

“Mother, where’s Harvey?” You asked, your voice breaking because you already knew.

“He’s gone, (Y/N). He passed a month ago.”

You bit your lip to suppress the cry that nearly escaped. You continued to hush Morgan, lulling her to sleep. You closed your eyes, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” You whispered.

It was a terrible feeling. A closure that you will never get. It left an ache in your chest and the pain only increased when you realized if Steven died during this war, you may never get to say your goodbye either. You may never hold him again, nor kiss his lips. You may never see his smile and hear his laugh. You’ll never hear him tell you I love you again.

The realization pained you more than anything you’ve ever experienced.

And the fact you could do nothing but pray and hope made the pain twice as worse.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

A little over One Month into the war…

Brooken was left with a few guards to ensure your safety. You hated being cooped up in the castle. You felt useless. No word had been brought back about the progress of the war. Your mother encouraged you to take the silence as a good sign – because if things had taken a turn for the worse, Thanos would be pounding at Brooken’s doors, which he was not.

Nevertheless, it left you a worried mess. The ring, a reminder of your union, sat dauntingly on your finger. You often stared at it when you were alone. You’d nervously twist the ring around when you spoke to others – when you told your people that everything would be fine, hoping that they believed you.

“You worry too much,” Natasha told you as you stared into the distance. You often did this at night and in the early mornings. You wanted to be awake for his return. You wanted to be the first one to see him.

“You’re a newly wed lady. Shouldn’t you share my concern?” You asked her, twisting the ring around.

Natasha eyed you, wearily. She glanced down to your nervous fumbling and shook her head. “King Steven has never lost a war.” Your eyes widened as you rushed to your balcony’s wooden doors, knocking furiously on it. Natasha sighed and pulled you back in. “Everything will be right again, (Y/N). Worrying only makes you suffer twice.”

“I’d rather worry and suffer threefold if it meant my husband be brought back tomorrow – preferably alive,” you told her. You took two deep breaths as you tried to steady your breathing. Natasha noticed how you visibly winced and grabbed your lower abdomen.

“What’s wrong?” You waved your hand at her concern. The sharp cramping sensation was from stress – you were sure of it. “If you are in pain, we should seek a physician – “

“I’m fine,” you assured. “It’s from worrying too much, I suppose.”

Natasha frowned as she eyed you cautiously. Ever since the voyage that took the lives of Wanda and your unborn child, you had always worn loose fitting garments – you told her it was because you hated the way corsets made you feel breathless and trapped. However, this morning as she loosely laced you into the dress, she noticed how she didn’t need to pull the laces around your chest as much as she was used to – how your breasts had suddenly increased in size.

“(Y/N) …” She trailed off as you rubbed your stomach, trying to dull the pain. “When was your last blood?”

You frowned as you tried to think. You opened your month to answer but quickly closed it when you realized you had no idea. “No…” You shook your head. You didn’t want to entertain the idea of bringing a child into this world – especially with Steven absent and not by your side.

“Could it be possible?” Natasha asked. “I mean the entire castle knows what you two do at night. You two are not shy when it comes to… keeping warm,” she smirked, “during the winter.”

You shot her a glare and she shrugged. “I suppose it is possible…” You whispered, rubbing small circles around your tummy. “But the idea… This is such a difficult time, Natasha. The uncertainty… Steven’s not here.”

“Yes, but the line needs to be continued.” Natasha said. You gave her a thoughtful glance, brows furrowing. “If Steven falls during this war – gods forbid it – Brooken will need an heir. Brock was next in line, but he’s gone now… If you’re pregnant, your child is the heir.”

“I don’t to live in a world without Steven in it,” you snapped. The idea alone sent chills down your spine.

Natasha nodded, understandingly. She, too, had a husband in this war – one whom she’d only been married to for two months. “But you must, (Y/N),” she whispered. “For, if you are pregnant, you carry a piece of him with you. The child of the north, an heir to both Brooken and York’s thrones.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Two and a half months into the war…

The camp had a foul stench that hung in the air. The soldiers were spread about – wounded, exhausted, many both. The two kings tried their best to ration out what supplies they had left. Two and a half months into this war and it felt as if they were nowhere near victory though they were nowhere near defeat, either.

Both Anthony and Steven exchanged blows with Thanos in the past battles that ended with hundreds of men on both sides dead and no one declared victorious. It felt as if every time the north was close to winning one battle, Thanos would retreat – and vice versa.

It was a continuous tug of war that lasted months and showed no signs of ending any time soon.

Steven stared blankly as the moon rose. He thought if you were staring up at it as well. He wondered how many nights you’re spending sleepless and full of worry. He wanted nothing more than to just come home to you – to wrap his arms around your body as you slept curled up next to him.

His hands toyed with the fabric tied to the hilt of his sword. The white had been stained with mud, dirt, soot, and blood. He let out a shaky sigh.

“Miss her?” He turned and saw Anthony slowly approach. He watched as the York king slightly limp over to him and pat his shoulder.

“Just want to go home to her,” Steven responded with a sigh. He felt a bit strange confessing this to her father, but considering James and Sam had both been injured and were resting, he welcomed the company.

“You will.” Anthony told him.

“It feels as if this war will go on forever.”

Anthony chuckled. “What’s the longest war you fought in?”

Steven thought for a moment. He had fought in too many wars, but his first war against the long-vanquished country of Hydra was one he’d never forget. “Four years?” He said though it came out as a question. “Fought for so long the years became muddled together.”

“You married then?”

“It’s different now.” Steven sighed.

“You really love my daughter?”

“Without a doubt.”

Anthony smiled. “I didn’t think she’d get married. She’s too … sharp-tongued. That girl damn near offended every noble I introduced her too.”

Steven chuckled. He always found your bluntness and witty remarks entertaining. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’ll get you home to her,” he promised, clasping his old friend’s shoulder. “Come now, Steven, we have battleplans to prepare.” He looked over at Steven. “Do you trust me?”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Three months into the war…

The rounding belly became increasingly challengingly to hide – especially now that the bitter northern winter was ending, and spring was quickly approaching. Though word from the battlegrounds painted the war as gruesome and dark, the life growing within you was a source of light – of comfort – for you and your people.

The midwife, Jean, preformed a trick she learned from her mother. She tied your wedding ring to a string and held it above your swelling belly. She watched as the ring swirled in fast, large circles. “A boy!” She announced to you with a big smile. Your mother clapped excitedly as did Lady Natasha. You were a skeptic, of course, but the idea of bringing a miniature Steven into the world made your heart leap.

The pregnancy had brought you something new to worry about. Due to the trauma of losing your first child, you became extra cautious with this second pregnancy.

“Have you thought of names?” Natasha asked you as she plaited your hair. Your mother laughed at the question as she watched Morgan crawl around the bed with her array of toys.

“I don’t want to think of names,” you said, lowly as you nervously rubbed the growing bump. You noticed that you had forgone fiddling with your ring and had begun to rub your slowly rounding stomach when you became nervous. “What if it isn’t even born? I don’t want to be disappointed.”

Natasha gave you a sigh before nodding. She found that you had become quite the pessimist in the three months of the war. Though everyone tried to see the bright side of this situation, you had clung to the idea that everything would go wrong – as if you were preparing for the worst.

“Don’t think like that,” your mother scolded.

“I can’t help it.” You clenched your jaw before quickly unclenching it, thinking the tension in your skull could somehow harm your child. “Has anyone sent any word?”

“Besides the squire that vaguely reported that hundreds of died on both sides? No.” Natasha hummed as she finished your hair. “But you needn’t worry about the brutalities of war. You worry about taking care of yourself and that babe. Have you eaten? Shall I fetch you some food?”

“A lemon actually sounds delightful.”

Her nose scrunched up in disgust. “Just a lemon?” You nodded. “Alright then.” She chalked the strange request to pregnancy cravings.

“Oh, Natasha?” You called out. She hummed in response. “Perhaps you could also get me something sweet?”

“What a strange baby you will have.” She joked. “Strange, royal, and richer than anyone in Brooken. I’ll order the maid.”

You stood and walked over to your bed. Morgan had cooed at you, grabbing your hand and stuffing a doll into it. At such a young age, she had such a big personality – a common trait of Stark kids, your mother joked. She told you a story of how you always stuck your tongue out at diplomats and nobles when you were Morgan’s age – which nearly cost your father many trade opportunities.

You played with your baby sister, making up for all your lost time together. “You’ll be a great mother,” your mother said, suddenly. You smiled at her as Morgan became preoccupied in her own world. “You always took such good care of Harvey… and you took great care of Morgan when she was a newborn… You’ll be a great mother, (Y/N).”

“I hope so.” You smiled. “Perhaps, I should name my baby after Harvey? If it is a boy as Jean says.”

“What a lovely sentiment.” Your mother nodded.

“We can always conjure up a new name,” you smiled, rubbing your belly. “ We’ve got time.”

“Indeed, we do.”

Side note: I apologize that the gif depicts a woman with light skin. Please know that gifs/pictures used are no where near a representation of who the reader is/what the reader looks like.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Six months into the war …

Steven fell to the ground, exhausted from the duel and bleeding from his wounds. Thanos had successfully ambushed their camp – a surprise attack that left the dramatically dwindled down army hopeless and scattered.

He had no idea where Anthony had gone off to when he decided that he’d take on the Mad King on his own. Unprepared for the sudden attack, the Mad King had the upper hand, easily overpowering Brooken’s king.

Steven could hear Thanos’s army approach. In that moment, it felt as if it were one man versus the entire south. Was surrender really an option? No. He didn’t want to surrender to this monster. He just wanted to rest, closing his eyes as he followed the tempting beckoning of death.

He suddenly heard a laugh ringing in his head. Vivid images of his wife flashed before his eyes. Memories of her – her eyes, the feeling of her lips, her skin against his, her smiles, her laughs, “I love you, Steven,” – all calling his name, begging him to come back to her – pushing him to stand.

So, the Brooken King’s eyes shot open and slowly, he got up, refastening his shield to his arm to stop the bleeding from the large gash. Thanos raised his eyebrows with a sense of respect – whatever was driving this northern king must be something worth living for. And to Steven, you were.

“You want to do this?” Thanos taunted from across the field. He gestured to his army. “Are you sure, Rogers?”

Before Steven could respond, he felt the ground rumbling. Thanos’s brows furrowed as he felt the same vibration. Steven turned around and couldn’t help the relieved smile as he saw hundreds of horses approach. Allies from around the continent and even the world – from House Danvers to Wakanda’s reputable armies – all gathered together to take down one enemy.

The battle was long and well fought. Stark and the rest of the soldiers rejoined the battle. Everyone with one mission: strike Thanos down.

Swords clattered against swords and shields. Horses and people were slain. Bodies fell like leaves in the autumn. Steven had again exchanged blows with the Mad King – Thanos ultimately, rendering the Brooken King unconscious with a hard blow with the hilt of his sword.

Thanos raised his blade up, ready to separate the king’s head from his body when another sword stopped the attack. Anthony Stark’s sword hovered over Steven’s unconscious body, deflecting Thanos’s attempt. He lifted his sword up with so much force that the Mad King stumbled backwards.

“Stark.” He spat.

“Made a promise to get him back to his wife.” Anthony Stark shrugged. “I don’t like breaking promises.” Thanos cocked his head to the side with a menacing smile. “Look around you, Thanos,” he gestured to the carnage. Many of the bodies were of Thanos’s men. “You’re losing.”

“Are you making an excuse not to fight me?”

“I’m giving you a chance to surrender.”

The two men circled around each other with their swords drawn.

“Never.” Thanos snapped as he swung.

The clanging of their blades rang out throughout the entire field. It drowned out the other duels around them. Both drawing blood and taking turns giving one another fatal blows.

Steven had only come to when Anthony kicked Thanos’s sword away and plunged his sword through Thanos’s chest. His vision was a bit blurred but quickly cleared as he blinked furiously.

“Surrender.” Anthony seethed, kicking the Mad King to his knees. “Surrender.”

Thanos held his head in shame as he barked orders at his army, telling them to lower their weapons. Steven stared on as Thanos’s men hesitantly followed the order. The field was silent. Had Anthony did it? Was the war finally over?

“You win, Stark,” Thanos smiled, teeth bloody. Steven saw the man’s hand slowly reach behind him. His eyes widened as he tried to warn his friend, but it was too late. With the last of his strength, Thanos sheathed the sharp dagger into York’s king. “If I go, you go with me.”

“Tony!” Steven screamed. He ran towards them. With no hesitation nor remorse, he raised his sword and beheaded Thanos where he kneeled. He caught Anthony before he fell to the ground. “C’mon, Stark, stay with me.” He pleaded. He looked at one of the Danvers knights and ordered her to get a physician though he knew the attempt to save his friend was futile. Steven slapped Anthony’s cheek lightly as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Steve…” Anthony muttered. “Steve…”

“I’m right here.”

“Tell (Y/N) …” He trailed off, struggling to catch his breath. “Morgan… Pepper…” He heaved. “I love them all…” Anthony had a sad smile on his face. He was leaving York in his eldest daughter’s more than capable hands. Though he knew his wife would be devastated, he knew he was leaving them with no impending threat of a Mad King in the south. “Take care of ‘em, okay, Rogers?”

“I swear to you – on my life, on my marriage – I will.” Steven nodded. Anthony gave him a small smile and a nod before his eyes became unfocused and glossed over. Steven called his name three times – his voice breaking at the third and final time.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Month 7 – one month after the war.

You were emerged in the crowd, hidden behind the hundreds waiting for their loved ones returns – though many may be disappointed and heartbroken. You prayed you were not one of them.

You were far along your pregnancy, too big to hide the swollen belly. The midwife told you that you had a little over a month left, still very adamant that you had son.

You craned your neck over the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of the approaching men. Natasha gasped as she let go of your arm, rushing through the crowd and into her husband’s arms. You smiled as they shared a tender kiss. When they parted, James glanced your way – you saw the sympathy in his eye and your heart dropped. Your husband was nowhere to be found and the way his best friend looked over at you did not ease your fears.

You clenched your jaw before pressing your lips into a firm line. Tears pricked in your eyes. Your mother’s free hand – the other preoccupied with holding Morgan up – rubbed your arm, comfortingly. You turned to head back inside the castle. You had no intention of crying in front of the entire country, but then your mother’s grip tightened slightly, keeping you in place. You frowned at her before following your eyes.

Relief quickly flooded through you. He was battered and bruised, limping as he walked, but he was alive. You hurriedly cut through the crowd – though as their pregnant queen, your people practically parted to give you way.

“Steven!” You gasped, running up to him.

He stared at you in disbelief. You were glowing in the sunlight – a true vision. But it wasn’t your beauty that baffled him. It was your rounded belly. His eyes watered as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you into a long-awaited kiss. And after seven long months, you felt as if you could finally breathe again.

Foreheads pressed together, he nudged your nose with his a happy grin on his face. “You’re pregnant.” He whispered. You nodded – you felt so much joy in that moment you were sure your heart would combust. “You’re pregnant.” He repeated, breathlessly.

In the weeks that followed, you were in a whirlpool of mixed emotions. With putting your father to rest and trying to piece together what was left of the north, you were exhausted – not to mention heavily pregnant.

Though, it became easier to shoulder all the responsibilities now that your husband was finally home.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

His paced anxiously as he waited outside the bedchamber doors. He wanted nothing more than to be in that room with you, but the midwife told him it was not customary that the husband be inside.

Steven winced when he heard your scream. The pained shriek would probably haunt him more than his war flashbacks. “IT HURTS… IT HURTS.” You repeated like a mantra. “SOMETHING IS WRONG.”

Steven couldn’t take it. He pounded on the doors. Natasha had cracked it open, but he pushed through it, almost knocking her down. He rushed to your side, your hands desperately grabbing each other. “What’s happening?”

“Something’s wrong, Steven,” you wailed, shaking your head against the pillows. Your face was wet with tears and sweat, and your anxiety was through the roof. “He’s – he’s dying.”

“The queen is losing too much blood, your grace,” Stephen Strange informed him.

“Get him out.” You begged. “Godfather,” you croaked, pleading, “if it comes down to me or the child, choose the child. Do you hear me?”

“No.” Steven snapped. “I will not lose you.”

“Steven…” you cried. “Brooken and York need this heir to survive.”

“But I need you to survive,” Steven pleaded with you. You shook your head, jaw trembling as you cried in pain. “Whatever happens, you save her, Strange. Do you understand me?”

“I – “

“As Brooken’s king I command you – “

“I think you forget that I am of York and she is my queen first.” Stephen frowned at him. “You may be her husband, but she is my queen and I follow her orders.”

Your godfather went to grab surgical instruments and Steven sent a glare his way. “Touch her and I will kill you.”

“Steven…” You whined. He turned his head to you, worry written all over his face. “I love you…”

“Don’t – “

“No, no… I need to tell you that.” You whispered. “Please, say it back.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” He said. His voice was barely above a whisper as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “(Y/N) – please…” His heart dropped when your eyes rolled back, losing consciousness as you succumbed to the pain.

“I have to operate, Steven,” Strange told him. “She ordered me to save the child.”

Steven didn’t pay him any attention as his grip on your hand tightened. “(Y/N),” he called. “I know you can hear me.” He choked back his tears. “You can’t die. Please don’t leave me. You’re strong – probably the strongest person I know. You can do this. I know you can do this. C’mon…” You were unresponsive, eyes rolled back, and your chest had stopped rising. “My love, please… If I lose you, I am left in the darkness. I will not know how to recover from this loss. Please come back to me, (Y/N). Please.”

You suddenly gasped, regaining consciousness as you sat up. “C’mon, (Y/N),” your godfather prompted as the midwife peered beneath the blanket that covered you.

“Your grace, we need you to push,” the midwife told you.

You screamed through clenched teeth. You grabbed Steven’s hand so tightly his went numb and turned white. “One more, big push, your grace!” You did as you were told, pushing through the pain in muffled screams.

And then the room was filled with a triumphant screeching of a newborn. You slumped back against the pillows, breathing heavily as the umbilical cord was cut and the child was cleaned and checked over.

Steven kissed your temple, whispering praises to your ear. He was relieved that you were okay – that you were alive.

“Queen (Y/N), King Steven,” Strange smiled, cradling the crying baby in his arms. “You have a son.” You reached out for him and your godfather gladly placed the baby boy in your arms.

His wails instantly calmed as he rested against your heart. You smiled down at the red-faced child whose eyes were fluttering close. Steven stared in absolute awe. “We made him.” He whispered to you. “You made him.”

You bit your lip. “Edward Harvey Rogers?” You suggested.

“Edward.” Steven tested, smiling. “Your father’s second name.” You nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Edward,” you cooed to the child.

“As have I,” Steven whispered. You turned to smile at him. He leaned in and pecked your lips before you turned back to take in the beauty of your child.

As you admired the baby boy, Steven admired you, his queen – his wife.

It had been a long, treacherous journey to get here. He had stumbled through the darkness for far too long, but here you were – a beacon, a promise of happiness and a bright future.

The Queen of York and Brooken, the Queen of the North – the Queen of his heart.

The Queen who brought him joy – who brought him a child.

The Queen who brought him light.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #King!Steve Rogers x reader #King!Steve Rogers #King!Steve Rogers imagine #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 15 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (14)

Next part (16) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Missing

There are seven holes. Seven. But they aren't seven different nests, they're tunnels, with seven openings to the surface of the Earth. You only know that because Eleven spent the whole night focused on finding them, seated in the living room of Joyce's place, a piece of fabric covering her eyes. The map from before remained on the floor beside her, and she reached out to draw where the tunnels reach. You barely had any sleep, just the pair of hours you slept with your head on Billy's shoulder, seated on the couch, but someone's voice woke you up.

Relief fills your heart when the morning comes. During the night, you could only think about those things lurking around. After a quick shower, and using one of Eleven's shirt, you go to the kitchen and decide to have breakfast there, where you can be alone. Eating a bowl of cereal, you run a hand through your hair, trying to understand how are you going back to the pool today and act like none of this is happening.

“Hey, princess,” Billy says, coming into the kitchen. Hair is still wet and wearing only his jacket. “Are you ok?”

“I'm trying to be.” Pushing the bowl away, you watch as he makes himself the same meal you had. “Wondering how am I going to work today.”

“Wanna stay here? I can tell Anthony that you're sick. If he even shows up.”

“No. It'll be worse if I stay.” You're confused, not sure what's the best or what's worse. But at least in the pool you'll have something normal going on.

“Hey, you two,” Joyce says as she comes in. Her voice gets your attention, and when you look at her after exchanging a glance with Billy, you see that Hopper is right behind her, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed together. “How are you two doing?”

“Uhm... Good.” It sounds like a question. Joyce sits at the table, with Hopper standing behind her. He has the chief face on, and you have no idea why. “Everything alright? Are we in trouble or something?” Gesturing at you and Billy, and cross your legs, an eye on the clock because you'll still need to stop by home to get the swimsuit.

“No, of course not. It's just that the kids were talking about something and–”

“Are you two living together?" Hopper speaks up, swallowing Joyce's words. She gives him a hard stare, and there's some kind of conversation going on through facial expressions that you can't understand.

“Yes.” You answer, not sure why you're in this situation in the first place. You feel like you're having the talk with Diane all over again. Diane. You have to call her, just to make sure everything is alright. “Why?”

“There were some rumors running around that–”

“That Billy Hargrove got some chick pregnant.” Hopper again. But this time Joyce slaps his arm.

“We agreed you'd let me do this.” She whispers.

“Then just get to the damn point.” He snaps back.

With wide eyes, you look at Billy. He doesn't seem bothered by this, peacefully eating his cereal. There's a smile on his lips that he tries to hold back, but you know him far too well now. You can see it. He's having fun.

“Look, guys, Uhm... These rumors started after I fainted on the pool, but it was from heat exhaustion, so...” Deciding to just end whatever this is, you speak up, kicking Billy's leg and whispering to him. “Say something.”

“(Y/N), honey, do your parents know about that?”

This makes you laugh, but then you remember Joyce doesn't know about your relationship, or better saying, the lack of it. “No, and I don't plan on doing that. But my aunt Diane does.”

“And she allowed it?” Hopper takes his time pronouncing every word as if this is absurd. “You're lucky you're not my daughter.”

“Hopper, just...” Joyce mumbles, her voice fading. “We just wanted to make sure you guys are... You know... Going somewhere with this. Living together is something really big and important to do.”

“I'll only say two things.” Billy finally makes his presence known, getting up and throwing his bowl in the sink. “First of all, I'm planning on marrying (Y/N). Second, we better go now or we'll be late. Again.”

There's a weird buzz in your ears as Billy takes your hand and starts pulling you with him. Joyce and Hopper have wide eyes, mouth half-open, in shock. You're not that different, and all your body is able to do is keep following Billy outside and to his car. You're silently looking through the window as he drives, but you're doing that on purpose, just to get back at him for saying that out of the blue.

“Aren't you gonna say anything?” He asks parking in front of the house.

“Absolutely not.” Stepping out of the car, you don't wait for him, heading inside. “If you really wanna do what you said, I'll patiently wait until you propose, Hargrove.” Turning around just enough to wink at him, you bite back a smile.

You're quick to get ready and manage not to be late. The song is blasting when Billy pulls over on his parking spot, and the moment the song is gone, you hear the chattering, noticing three police cars.

Your heart skips a beat when you leave the car, taking a deep breath. “Hey,” Billy calls, taking your hand. “Let's check what happened before jumping to conclusions, ok?”

“Ok.” Holding his arm, you move to the entrance, where a small crowd gathers. Hopper is here, and by the messy way of his clothes, he had to run over here. He immediately notices you and Billy, a sad look on his face. And that's when you see Monica, running a hand through her hair, tears glistening on her cheeks.

“Mon?” Calling, you let go of Billy and runs to her. Monica breaks a little bit when she sees you, and you're quick to hug her. “Mon, what happened?”

“It's Jason. My cousin is missing, (Y/N).” She cries on your shoulder, and you close your eyes tight because the first thing that comes to your head is probably what got him. The Demodogs. “He went out yesterday to buy dinner a-and his mom called mine saying he was taking long and...” You pull away, holding her hands. “...that was early evening yesterday. And he's still missing. The family spent the whole night looking for him and–”

“Mon, I'm sure we'll find him.” It's hard to lie. It's even harder not to break down in front of her. “Maybe he felt bad and fainted or something like that. We'll find him.”

“I hope so.”

“I'll drive you home, ok? Billy can keep the pools safe for one day.”

When she nods, drying off some tears, you make your way over him, who's talking to Hopper. He probably already knows, but you try to keep a straight face.

“Come here, princess.” He opens his arms and you don't even hesitate, hugging him tightly. “I'm so sorry. But we'll find him. The party is already aware of everything.” Whispering on my ear, Billy places a kiss on the top of your hair.

“I...” Getting rid of the single tear that escaped your efforts to hold it back, you pull away. “I'll take her home, she's very shaken. Can you just keep an eye–”

“Keep an eye on the kids, of course.” He bends over to kiss you, and your arms, almost automatically, move to be around his neck. “I'll pick you up after work, ok? I love you.”

“I love you.” It still makes you blush to hear those words, but you absolutely love to say it back. After one last kiss, you part ways.

Monica talks as you drive to her place, sharing memories with her cousin. Some of them you already know, but you don't stop her, laughing and making silly comments, trying to keep her mind away from the fact that Jason is missing.

Your mind also starts remembering. Obviously, you didn't have all the time around Jason that Monica had, but he was one of the first people you met when you got here. He's always smiling, carrying his siblings around, always complaining, but always happy to be with them. Jason is funny, even when he's the only one who actually gets his jokes.

Jason is missing.

Demidogs need a lot of food. An almost 6 feet tall male human has a lot of meat.

Shaking your head lightly, you push these thoughts away. No breaking down now. Monica needs you strong, to keep her strong too. Her family is either at Jason's or still looking, so you're alone. Both of you stay seated on her bed, and you give her your shoulder when she starts crying again. He's gone for one night and she's already losing it... If anything bad happens...

Her parents return home a couple of hours later, thankful to you for taking her back home. You drag her into the living room, turning the TV on this random movie and trying to convince her to pay some attention. You can hear her parents in the kitchen, making lunch, but you also hear when her mother cries, the low, cracking voice as she talks to her husband. It's getting hard by the minute to stay here, pretending you don't know what probably happened, but if you cry, if you start doubting Jason is ok, Monica will break apart.

A knock on the door, an unusually loud and frenetic knock, gets your attention. Looking over your shoulder, you see as Monica's father goes to answer it.

“Hi. Is (Y/N) here?” You hear a feminine voice, and you soon recognize it's Nancy.

Excusing yourself, you get up. “Yes, she's–”

“Hey.” You go to the front door, seeing Nancy and two cars in the sidewalk, many eyes looking at you. “Something wrong?”

“Sorry, but we need you. Uhm... Maxine is sick. We need to have a doctor check on her.”

“What?” You exclaim, running a hand through your hair. “Mon.” Calling her, you quickly make your way back to the living room. “I'm so sorry, but Maxine is feeling ill, I have to go. But I promise I'll call you later, ok?”

“Sure. Go help.” She says, nodding and clearing her throat since her voice is all clouded by her crying.

“Stay calm, honey. Jason is alright, I'm sure.” Another lie. You shouldn't make promises you don't know if you can keep. Giving her a quick hug, you run outside, muttering a goodbye to Mon's father as Nancy does the same.

“We'll go looking for him.” She says in a low voice as you move toward the cars. “We don't stand still when shit happens.”

Her choice of words makes you raise your eyebrows. You never heard her saying anything like that. “Thanks.” Muttering, you seat shotgun in Steve's car as she goes to Jonathan's. There are four kids on the back seat, fighting for some more space. You're happy to see Max is alright. For a moment, you thought she was really sick.

You park in the woods, and there are already some people here. Everyone but Hopper, because he has to be in the official search party, and Billy. God, you wish Billy was here.

“Alright, let's do this,” Mike says, and he freely starts separating you in groups. “Eleven and Will with me. Lucas, Jonathan, and Robin. Uhm... Max, Steve, and (Y/N). Joyce–”

“Why are you messing up the groups, man. I wanna go with Max.” Lucas complains and Mike rolls his eyes. “Groups of four, as usual.”

“Since when?”

“Alright, just gather in groups, c'mon, guys,” Joyce says, eyeing both her kids until they go to stand by her side, alongside Nancy.

You move to stand with Max and Lucas, and after playing rock, paper, scissors with Robin, Steve comes to your group. You raise your eyebrows at him, trying to get why they had to use that method to choose a group. “Nobody wants to be with these two lovebirds.” He says when he's close enough.

“That's something I can understand.” There's no doubt Max and Lucas are into each other, but they're constantly fighting. It's funny to watch, actually.

“Let's get started then, guys. Be careful, pay attention to the radios, and let's find Jason.” Joyce announces, taking over Hopper's role in this.

And everyone starts moving, each group in a different direction. You're going to the holes first, just to check, and then you'll cover a specific area. Max and Lucas are once again responsible for the map and walk a couple of feet ahead.

“Hey. Take this.” Steve gets your attention, taking the bat from his backpack and handing it over to you. “I know Jason was a close friend of yours. Sorry this happened.”

“Yeah.” You lay the bat over your shoulder, careful not to entangle your hair in the nails. “I really thought it couldn't get any worse but life proved me wrong.”

“I remember when Will went missing. I was a total jerk back then so I didn't really care.” You glance over to Steve, and he has an apologetic look on his face. “They found the body and there was a funeral. But the body was fake and Will was fine in the end.”

“Someone should make a movie out of that story.” You mumble, taking a deep breath. “Do you think Jason could be in the... Upside Down?”

“No. According to Eleven, no portals were open. The Demodogs just made these woods into their new home and are doing what it takes to survive.” Through the corner of your eyes, you see when he almost slips, opening his arms slightly to regain balance. “Don't laugh.” He says, but you're already chuckling. “Anyway, wherever he is, he's here.”

“Why don't we tell Eleven to just use her powers and find him. Wouldn't it be easier?”

“These woods are huge. And we usually just do that when it's the last resource.” Lucas answers.

“We don't like pushing her. It always brings back sad memories.”

That's something you can understand perfectly. “We do it the old way then.” You've seen how complicated it is. Eleven's nose wouldn't stop bleeding while she was figuring out the tunnels, and after while blood came out of her ears too. As much as you want to find Jason, you'd never ask her or the party to do something just so you'd feel better. They're in it far longer than you, so you trust them to make the decisions and set the pace. “I just hope he's alright. He's Monica's cousin, and she's worried to death.”

“Yeah, I get that.” It doesn't go unnoticed how Steve doesn't make false promises as you did with Monica. He doesn't say he's ok, that you'll find him. Running a hand through your hair, you take a deep breath, confused between having hopes or just expecting the worse. “So, changing the subject.” He speaks again. “You and Hargrove. I never thought Billy would actually fall in love.”

A smile comes to your lips, and you're thankful for having something else to think about. “Yeah. It took a while for me to believe that but he... He worked hard.” Involuntary, your hand goes for the necklace, fingers playing with the earring.

“Joyce and Hopper were saying something about marriage...” It sounds like a question, and you give Steve a glance, giggling. “They were trying not to let anyone hear them but Hopper doesn't really know how to whisper.”

By the heat spreading through your cheeks, you know you're blushing. Could it be real? Would Billy marry you? Is he really considering such a thing? “We spoke about it, Uhm... Twice, I think. But not a real conversation, he just spilled it out.”

“Holy shit, he's going serious with you then.” He playfully elbows your arm. By what you've seen and by what Max told you, Steve usually grows protective of everyone since he joined the party, and you think it's cute. He's like everyone's babysitter. “Send me an invitation, would you?”

“I will.”

“You–”

Maxine's yell cuts him short, getting your attention as you notice you have fallen behind. Immediately, you and Steve start running towards then.

“Man, that's...” Lucas says as Max hugs him, eyes tightly shut.

You're about to ask them what the hell happened when you follow Lucas' scared stare.

It's a weird sensation when you're brain refuses to take in the information. When your eyes, focused on something, are blind. And your ears are deaf and the wind blowing doesn't touch your skin. It's like you're not there.

Jason's body is stuck between a big rock and a dead tree. His torso is opened up, and there's nothing inside.

As there's nothing inside Jason anymore. He's empty. Body and soul. There will be no laughter leaving his lips, no more jokes, no more arms to carry his baby siblings around. Nothing. Just flesh and bones, both ripped apart.

“(Y/N).” You're sure it's not the first time you hear someone calling your name, but you're not even sure where it comes from.

You only move when an arm pulls you, and you feel it around you. “We have to go. C'mon.” Steve says, and, far and distant, you hear static, and voices, coming from the radio. “(Y/N).”

“I need Billy.” It's the only thing that comes to your head, and you find a way to force the words out of your throat.

“Alright, let's go,” Steve says, and you're only set on motion because of his arm around your shoulders.

Everything is a blur. You notice people moving around, and some of them come to hug you as they start regrouping near the cars. Nodding and thanking their kind words, you remain silent, arms crossed, the image still burning in your brain.

Jason's rib cage broken open, the blood staining his clothes and the ground around him. His head twisted in an awkward way, neck probably disconnected from the body.

“Let's get moving. She wants to talk to Billy.”

“The pool will close in an hour. Take her home.”

“No, she's scaring me. We need to take her to Billy.” Max intervenes, and Steve pulls you to his car. You let Max seat shotgun, feeling better in the backseat where you can curl into a ball, knees pressed against your chest as the landscape passes by.

It reminds you the first time you saw that thing. You were trying to beat Billy, driving back to your place. Maybe, if you had gone to the police station the next day, let them know something was out there, you could've avoided this. But who would believe you? You didn't believe it either. What are you going to tell Monica? After saying things would be ok, that they would find Jason alive and well when you knew being out in the woods all night long probably meant he'd become Demodog's meal.

You knew it, yet you lied. Vain hope is the worst kind of hope, and that's what you gave her.

“(Y/N).” Steve gets your attention, touching your shoulder. “We're at the pool.”

Blinking a few times to wake up from the stupor, you bolt out of the car, making your way to the entrance. It's crowded today, but you don't see faces, you just see obstacles.

It finally starts kicking in.

You went to find Jason, and you did. But instead of the dear friend you so easily grew to love, you found a dead, empty corpse. The tears threat to overflow as you rudely bump into people, making your way through the pool. At a distance, you see the moment Billy finally notices the commotion, his eyes quick to find you. By the way his face changes, the way he takes off his sunglasses and jumps to the ground, shoving people out of his way, you must be looking terrible.

But you don't care. Billy is everything you need, the only thing you see and you know you can break down in his arms. You just need to reach him, and when you do, you collapse against his chest, not able to hold back the tears anymore, the sobs building up your throat as you hold onto him.

“I'm so sorry,” Billy mumbles in your ear. He knows. How could he not?

You suddenly feel him lifting you up, and you hide your teary face on the crook of his neck. Seconds later you're at the locker room, and Billy screams for the other girls to get out as he puts you down, seated on one of the benches.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N).” He repeats, kneeled before you, thumbs coming to dry off some tears, just to make space for more.

“I saw him. H-he was all eaten, Billy. His body was-his body was wide open and everything was gone–”

“Stop, stop.” He begs, pulling you into a hug. “You don't have to tell me, not now.” Nodding, you take in his scent, feeling safe, secure, despite the terror creeping under your skin. “I'll take you home, ok?”

“No.” You mutter, pulling away just enough so you're foreheads are touching. You don't know what comes to you, but this has to be said. This feeling has to be let out. Not after, not tomorrow. Now. Maybe it's the fact that you saw death for the very first time. You just need to let him know “You're my home.”

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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ilalos · 3 years

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Lavender dreams (Anthony Bridgerton x OC)-Part 2/3

Word count: 1.8k

Dances came and went and Grace had saved a dance for Anthony in each and every one of them, but he had yet to ask her for an outing. Gigi supposed he was busy enough trying to get Eloise to go on at least one outing with one of the few men that passed his rigorous check but was it so hard to take her out for a walk in the park or perhaps to have some tea? It didn’t help that she had heard rumors of him meeting actresses every night with unholy purposes, but she held hope for the eldest Bridgerton because every time they danced she felt as if there was no one else on the dance floor with them, and every time they talked he pulled a smile from her even if seconds before she had been upset.

She had had some outings with a couple of gentlemen who were approved by Simon and Daphne, and even if they were fine, educated young men she felt nothing for them. She knew her time was cutting short as it was already the middle of the season and her father didn’t have much time left, but she hadn’t felt anything resembling love for any of her callers. She had, however, started a friendship with non-other than Colin Bridgerton, and this lead Lady Whistledown to speculate about a possible engagement between the pair. The truth was, Colin saw Gigi as a sister at most and she saw him as the brother she never had.

The possibility of Colin proposing was truly daunting to Lady Bridgerton as she knew this union would break Anthony’s heart and could potentially cause a rift between the brothers. She had taken notice of the way her eldest tensed whenever one of the girls read the latest Lady Whistledown and the young couple was mentioned, Colin would always scoff and remind everyone he had no intentions of getting engaged anytime soon but that did nothing to lessen the deep frown in Anthony’s face or his mother’s worry.

Anthony had been visiting the brothel more often in a poor attempt to forget about Gigi and also convincing himself that he would never be deserving of the girl’s love. He knew he needed a wife and he intended on marrying that very season, but the thought of Gigi suffering half as much with his death as his mother did when his father passed, refrained him from accepting his feelings and proposing. Despite his resolve to forget his feelings for her, he continued to dance with her at every ball and party. When they danced he felt as if he could stay there forever, twirling her in his arms and holding her as close as possible; they talked sometimes at these events and felt as if they had known each other their whole lives.

It was the day of the picnic and the Bridgerton family was excited after hearing from the eldest daughter that Lord Watts had informed her and her husband of his intentions to propose to Grace. He was an earl and he and Grace had had some successful outings.

Grace had no objections toward the young man apart from the fact that she bore no feelings for him whatsoever, but given her lack of time to worry on such silly matters, she chose to ignore that in favor of having the wedding her father wished for, and who knows? Maybe their love would sprout once they were married.

When Anthony heard the news he could almost hear his heartbreaking in half, a pain ten times bigger than the one he felt when Siena rejected him. He almost wanted to beg Colin to propose before Lord Watts had the chance, at least that way he would be able to still see her when the couple visited. He decided to skip the picnic and instead stayed at home reviewing the business to avoid having to watch the happy couple celebrating their future union.

The proposal didn’t occur at the event, Lord Watts was there and he did take Grace on a walk but he had made the decision to make a formal proposal at his family’s home the following day so he limited himself to invite Grace, the duke, the duchess, and Lady Bridgerton to his house for tea. The invitation was accepted and the picnic continued without much excitement. The Duke's family left first because baby A was behaving quite fussy and her mother suspected it was due to the unforgiving sun beaming down on them; soon after the Bridgertons left due to a menacing black cloud that darkened the festivities.

Night and storm had fallen upon Lady Danbury’s home when a nervous messenger knocked urgently on the state’s door. Mr. Lock, the butler, had opened the door.

“How can I help-”

“Lord Bridgerton’s carriage was robbed and he is terribly hurt!” The young man had yelled the message hoping the duchess would hear him “Lady Bridgerton urges the presence of her eldest daughter in this uncertain times”

Grace had been the one to hear the messenger’s words and she felt panic take hold of her body. She ran to the door and demanded a horse be readied for her, the butler refused to let her go alone into the rain and advised her to wait until the carriage was ready. At his refusal, she chose to forget decorum and took the messenger's horse and rode it into the storm. The duke and duchess had heard the commotion and ordered the footman to ready the carriage at once.

Grace rode to the Bridgerton household in record time and when she got there she rode straight into the nearby stables, dropped the horse, and ran to the home’s door. Lady Bridgerton opened with teary eyes expecting to see Daphne and let a gasp when instead of her eldest daughter she saw the soaked figure of Grace Gillingham standing at her doorstep.

“Where is he?” That was all the girl said.

“Upstairs, the doctor is seeing him in his bedroom”

The woman barely finished her sentence before the younger girl pushed past her and ran up the stairs, politeness be dammed. She found Benedict passing by Anthony’s door and before she could ask about the man’s condition a pained scream tore through the wood. She gasped as if she felt his pain and fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

“The doctor said his injuries are extensive but not life-threatening” Benedict said it trying to calm the poor girl down but her sobs remained the same, “he said it would take a while, maybe you should go get changed into some dry clothes, surely Eloise can lend you some”

“I’m not leaving this door until I see with my own eyes that he is well”

Benedict only nodded and watched her seat on the floor with her back against the wall, right across the door. Daphne arrived not long after and she too tried to convince Grace to change out of her soaked clothing or to at least drink some hot tea while they waited but the girl refused

“I will be fine” was all she had said through gritted teeth and blue lips.

Hours passed and every once in a while a pained clamor would leave the room, Benedict watched how each sound made a fresh wave of tears fall from Gigi’s eyes. The wait was long and soon Benedict found himself nodding off against the wall, only to be suddenly awakened by the door opening, Grace barely waited for the doctor to exit the room before running inside and kneeling at Anthony’s bedside, taking his hand between hers and looking at his face with relief when hearing taking notice of his breathing and the pulsing of his heart.

“He’ll need lots of rest to properly heal his wounds but he will make a full recovery” the doctor took one look at Grace and shook his head with a smile “Give this to her as soon as you can” he said as he handed Benedict a vial with a yellowish liquid.

“What is this concoction?”

“It will help her fever and lessen her cold symptoms” he explained “If she looks abnormally flushed or agitated, call me immediately”

Anthony thought he had never felt pain as bad as when the doctor had healed his wounds but seeing Grace’s feverish form sleeping uncomfortably in a chair at his bedside hurt more than whatever he felt the night prior. He saw her pale skin and red cheeks that hinted towards a fever, and her labored breathing pointed to a terrible cold, his hand was resting between hers and he marveled at how small they looked around his. He saw Benedict enter the room and questioned him about her presence.

“She rode on a stolen horse in the middle of a storm to be by your side, brother” Benedict chuckled at his brother’s astonished expression, knowing his surprise would only grow “She pushed past mother, entered the house uninvited, sat on the floor in the hallway and refused to move until she knew you were alright” he pointed to her reddened cheeks and continued “She didn’t even change out of her soaked dress until she saw you with her own eyes, the poor thing caught a terrible cold and only accepted to take the medicine and the change of clothes if we allowed her to stay here by your side”

Anthony felt his heart explode with love for the girl, the feelings so strong his eyes glossed with unshed tears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have such an angel loving him so much, and he only hoped he could make her feel half as loved as he felt at that very moment. He had to admit he was angered by her reckless behavior but the love overshadowed his protective feelings...until he saw her being woken up by a sudden fit of horribly sounding cough. He watched as she fought to regain her breath and was ready to chastise her until he noticed the way she looked at him, with so much love and so much relief he forgot what he was going to say.

“You’re awake,” she said simply, processing “You are awake!” Once processed the information had caused her tremendous joy and she jumped to embrace him, only to jump back when she heard his quiet complaint from the pressure put on his recent wounds “I apologize Lord Bridgerton, in my excitement, I seem to have forgotten about your injuries”

“No need to apologize, love” the pet name just flew past his lips, catching them both by surprise “You must go to get some proper rest now, you are sick and tired, we’ll talk later about the poor decisions you took yesterday”

Grace only nodded and without thinking took his hand and kissed his palm before leaving to finally get some rest on an actual bed.

“Fetch the Duke of Hastings for me, Benedict, I have a proposal to make”

PART 3

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Hi! If you’re still following along this story know that I appreciate it :))))) Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it

#anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x oc #bridgerton #my writing

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irishseeeker · 3 years

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a/n: this is a canon fic I wrote when I should be studying, as per. hope you enjoy!

Summary: Five times Kate takes care of a reluctant Anthony & one time he lets her.

one.

It was strange for Kate to wake up before Anthony. Anthony was usually awake a good half hour before Kate was every morning, usually dressed before she opened her eyes. He always waited for her to eat breakfast, but this morning he was oddly quiet.

“Good morning,” She whispered, rolling over in his arms, her nose brushing his. She leaned in to kiss him after she heard him make a small noise, her eyes still half closed. They could have a bit of fun before they really had to get up for the day.

He sneezed in her face.

Kate screamed, jumping slightly back from her husband as she wiped her face with their bedsheet. That certainly was a mood killer.

“I’m sorry Kate,” Anthony murmured, groaning slightly as he attempted to sit up.

Kate turned to look at her husband properly and her mouth opened slightly as she properly took him in. He did not look like Anthony at all. “Oh Anthony,” said Kate, putting her weight on her two arms on either side of him as she sat carefully on top of him to inspect him closer. “You look terrible.”

“Charming, my dear wife,” replied Anthony, not looking impressed at her comment whatsoever. It was true, though. He had little colour in his face, dark bags were under his eyes and his nose looked painfully red. He was sniffling with every breath.

“You have a fever,” Kate lay her hand on his forehead, which was scorching under her palm. “Your nose is red, and you look pale. You are ill, and you need to rest.”

“I do not have time to rest," Anthony insisted, shaking his head in protest. His schedule was full for the day, with endless tasks to do and people to visit. "I am fine, Kate.”

“May I remind you it is a sin to lie, dear husband?” Kate raised an eyebrow at him. “Especially to one’s wife, who can see right through her husband’s rather pathetic attempts at lying.”

He scoffed, and it turned into a slight whimper as strikes of pain ran through his throat. His head felt rather heavy.

“I am fine,” He said rather sharply, his jaw clenched as he attempted to stand up.

“You are the most stubborn man in London!” Kate exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she pushed him back down. “Get in the bed, now.”

Anthony glared at her, and although he would never admit it, he would not defy his wife when she was cross with him. “I’m not a child, Kate,” He said, mimicking her stern tone.

“I vowed to be by your side in sickness and in health. It is a wife’s duty to take care of her husband,” Kate reminded him, laying a cool tea cloth on his burning forehead. “I’m calling for the doctor.”

Anthony continued to object. “Kate, there is no need-”

“Anthony,” Kate said sternly, but her expression was the opposite to her tone-she looked concerned, and her soft hand cupped his cheek. “Please. For me?”

“Fine,” He grumbled, feeling his eyes close as Kate slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “But I am not sick.”

He then proceeded to sneeze and nearly cough a lung up. Kate just stared at him with her eyebrow raised slightly. “Of course you are not.”

Anthony’s cough and cold had lasted about a week and he was not the ideal patient. The doctor was not impressed with his reluctance to be examined and smart remarks. Anthony continuously moaned and complained, protested when Kate forced him to take the medicine the doctor had prescribed.

She threatened to play the flute for him while he was confined to his bed if he did not take the medicine and it was quite the convincing tactic, he never objected to his medicine again. Well, he moaned, but he still took it.

She didn’t leave his side all week, cancelling any of her planned activities or meetings with friends.

“I had cook prepare your favourite,” said Kate, placing the tray carefully on her side of the bed as she sat beside him, the bowl of vegetable soup in her hand. “Open up.”

Anthony grumbled. “Kate, I am not a child.”

“Open,” She interrupted him, holding the spoon in front of his mouth. “You need to eat. I can sit here all day until this bowl is empty.”

He reluctantly opened his mouth and she fed him the rest of the soup. She even pretended to feed him and pulled back the spoon at the last second, as if she was playing a game with a child, which he did not find funny whatsoever. Kate, however, cried tears of laughter.

Anthony had never been a great sleeper and it had always made Kate worry. He was usually awake when she woke up and sometimes looked like he had not slept at all some nights. She knew he had been like this for a very long time, anxiety keeping him awake and it had improved somewhat since they married but it was not a problem fixed overnight.

However, he had slept most of the week, confined to bed, and it hurt her how unwell and exhausted he must be for him to sleep so easily. However, she loved to watch him sleep. She was quite content to watch him for hours, her fingers slowly rubbing his back or combing through his hair to relax him.

“Are you staring at me?” He murmured, his voice startling her slightly as she looked down at his face, which was peering up at her as he rested on her chest.

“Of course,” She replied, twirling one of his chestnut locks around her finger. “I could stare at you forever.”

He met her halfway for a kiss, smiling softly against her lips as he pushed himself up slightly and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “I am incredibly handsome.”

She snorted, pulling the sheet over them. “Do you feel better?” She asked, tilting her head up slightly to look at him. She loved lying like this, practically on top of him.

“Very much so,” He murmured, leaning down to kiss her again, twisting her in his arms so she was now straddling him. “So much so, I am feeling very energetic.”

“Oh?” She pushed her hips down towards his, and she felt giddy that she could feel how excited he was. It had been a long week. “Do you have any ideas of what we could do?”

“Oh Mrs. Bridgerton,” He replied, gleeful and grinning, certainly feeling his usual himself again as he unbuttoned her dress. “I have an idea or two.”

His idea did not involve talking, the first, second or the third time, but it did involve a lot of fun.

two.

Kate was half-asleep in bed. Her evening had been oddly quiet, as Anthony had gone to the club with his brothers for the night. He had been reluctant to go but Kate had insisted he should, his time at the club with his brothers had been very limited over the last few months. She proposed he could spend the evening listening to her practice the flute instead and he quickly went on his way, winking at her as she scowled. She heard a crash and some loud footsteps and she presumed Anthony was home.

She sat up in bed, frowning slightly as she listened to further unusual noises approaching their bedroom. The candles were still lit as Kate had not wanted Anthony to arrive back in darkness.

The man in question opened their door. Kate took one look at him, an amused smile breaking out on her face. She had not seen Anthony drunk many times but each time was as glorious as the next. “You’re drunk, Lord Bridgerton.” Anthony stumbled further into the room, grinning boyishly at her as he attempted to take off his cravat.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world Kate,” He said, his voice slurring slightly but still giddy. “I know that for a fact as I can see two of you.”

Kate laughed, a girlish laugh that made everything inside him light up. “Come here,” She climbed out of bed, guiding his stumbling figure to the edge of the bed where he lay back with a plop, laughing. She did not get to see this side of him often, this gleeful, boyish side of him. “Let us get these off, shall we?” Kate said, kneeling down to pull her husband's black boots off his feet, struggling slightly until they popped off and she nearly fell back.

“Are you trying to seduce me, dear wife?” Anthony’s voice slightly slurred as he spoke, and the smirk on his face was cheeky and made Kate blush. He never failed to make Kate blush.

“Am I not always, my lord?” She pulled him up, which was a slight struggle as he was heavy, but he made it easier when he sat up. She pulled off his crumbled cravat, and began to unbutton his shirt. “I like it when you call me my lord,” He mumbled, pushing his chin up as he looked at her. “It does something to me.”

“You always used to insist I call you Anthony, once we were sort of acquaintances,” She reminded him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders.

“That’s because the people I love call me Anthony and I was a fool in love, I just did not know it yet,” He leaned forward to kiss her and she giggled against his lips, tasting the bourbon and she slowly pulled away. “I do not oppose an occasional my lord every once in a while.” “Well, my lord,” She pushed at his chest slightly, prompting him to move back towards the headboard and lie down. “I shall keep that in mind.” “Mmm,” He murmured, his eyelids already closing as he fell into a deep sleep. Kate fixed his pillows just as he liked them, pulling the sheets up to the top of his chest.

“I love you,” She whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she began to hear light snores, and she rolled her eyes as she got off the bed. She poured him a glass of water, leaving it on his side of the bed. He would need it in the morning.

The following afternoon, Anthony Bridgerton was in pain. When he was fully awake, all he could do was groan.

“Good morning,” Kate practically sung at her husband, who groaned in response. She had been awake for hours, as it was nearly the afternoon, but she had spent the morning reading her book waiting for her husband to wake up. She would not miss this moment.

“Please shut the curtains,” He managed to grunt. “And leave me to wither away.”

“So dramatic,” Kate said, rolling her eyes as she looked up from her book to smile at him. "How are you feeling?

“Like death. What time is it?” Anthony murmured, lifting his head off his pillow and feeling the world shift slightly. He felt ill. Extremely ill.

Kate took a moment before she replied. “It’s the afternoon.”

“Oh fuck,” Anthony tried not to swear in front of his wife, it was highly improper, but he really was fucked. He had appointments all morning and afternoon that he already missed and would be late for.

“I have cancelled all your appointments, all easily rescheduled,” Kate spoke over him so he would not interrupt. “What you need to do is to relax and eat something when you think you are up for it. Do not argue with me, Anthony.” He was prepared to argue with his wife, but he did not have the energy and his pounding head could not muster the effort.

“Was I a nuisance?” He asked instead, opening his arms towards Kate, who abandoned her book quite quickly to fall into them.

“You are never a nuisance,” Kate replied, pressing a kiss under his chin. “You were highly amusing.”

“I was?”

“You were. You were extremely logical,” He could hear the teasing edge in her tone. “You mentioned how I am smarter than you. How I am the greatest wife. How you should always listen to me-”

Anthony snorted. “I must have been drunker than I thought.”

She whacked him with a pillow, and he gasped before tackling her on their bed, until she stopped fighting. “I love you,” He said into her hair, after they had called a ceasefire, before pulling back to kiss her softly.

“I love you too,” She murmured against his lips, “But you smell like a brewery darling. I rang for the maids to run you a bath, it will make you feel much better. Come on.”

“Lie against me,” She instructed him as they both climbed into the bath. She picked up the cloth and slowly rubbed it over his skin. The bubbles fizzed against his chest before dissolving in the water, wiping any dirt away. He lay against her chest, defeated as his dehydrated muscles ached in the warm better.

“I am not the young man I once was,” He grumbled, sighing with content as Kate’s fingers lightly massaged his hair, the strands twisting around her fingers. “I will never drink again.” Kate snorted loudly against his back which made him reach back to tickle her until she squealed.

“Did you have fun?” Anthony nodded, smiling to himself as he thought back to the night before with his brothers and Simon. It was an incredible night, one of the fondest he had had in ages. He had not laughed or drank that much in a while. “I did.” “Good,” Kate replied, playing with his fingers and threading them through her own.

“I love when you have fun. You need to have more of it. You deserve it.”

He turned his head around so their faces were a few inches apart, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“I shall never tire of hearing it,” She whispered against his lips, dropping the cloth as he moved backwards in the bath and pulled her onto his lap.

“I love you,” His hands squeezed her bum, which made her hips move against his. “I love you,” He whispered against her earlobe, his teeth nibbling it.

“I love you,” His lips trailed kisses down towards her breasts, taking them in his hands and slowly massaging them, before he replaced his hands with his tongue.

“I love you so much,” She murmured back, her voice wavering slightly as his teeth caught her nipple. “But I must insist we move to the bed, now.”

Without another word, he carefully stood up and took her hands, delicately stepping out of the bath. He picked her up and deposited her on the bed, both of them laughing, and there wasn’t another word spoken for a while.

“Feeling better?” She teased as they lay on the bed panting a while later, their chests rising and falling as they caught their breath.

“Much better,” He murmured against her neck, pressing a soft kiss under her ear as his hand traced patterns on her stomach. “You are the perfect antidote, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

three.

“Are you coming to bed?” He smiled softly as he looked at his wife in the doorway to his office, dressed in her nightgown. It was tighter than usual, her bump had grown significantly in the last six months. Kate complained regularly that she was massive, but Anthony absolutely adored it. He adored her.

She stepped inside and close the door behind her, and he could sense an argument coming. “Let me help.”

He was right.

“Kate, you need your rest,” He replied, shaking his head. “You are carrying our child-“

She crossed her arms across her chest, which now rested on her bump, as she strode towards him. “Anthony-”

“No. It is not a wife’s job to do her husband’s duties-”

“Oh, do you ever stop talking?” Kate hushed him, walking towards him and dragging one of the chair’s in front of his desk to beside him. “You have been cooped up in here all week working extremely hard. You have hardly slept. Besides, I struggle to sleep without you and I keep getting kicked awake by your child.”

He could not help but smile at her, feeling the stress fade away slightly at her mere presence as he leaned toward her in amusement. “My child?”

“It’s your child when it is keeping me awake and treating me as if I am a ball to be kicked,” She grumbled, blinking up at him before moving onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands instinctively wrapped around her, one hand cradling her bump.

“Please let me help?” She murmured, her fingertip traced the edge of his jaw as she brought her lips softly to his. “Please?”

“Kate,” He murmured, feeling his willpower fade as her lips moved towards his neck. “Please?” She whispered, feeling daring enough to leave a small red mark on his neck that would show in the morning.

“Fine,” He succumbed, rolling his eyes in irritation as the minx climbed off his lap and sat on her chair, looking very satisfied with herself. “Take this list of names of tenants, and those balances, and write beside them if they have been paid or are outstanding,” He explained, pointing towards the list of tenants and the relevant documentation. It was one of the simpler tasks that took a tedious amount of time, and one she would be able to do.

“Make sure it’s legible,” Anthony reminded her, smirking at her slightly. Her penmanship was something to be desired.

“I am going to pretend I did not hear that,” She looked at him from the corner of her eye, her mouth flat, but it quickly turned into a smile that matched his. He opened his mouth to retort and she put her hand up, a serious expression on her face.

“Please do not disturb me. I am trying to work.” God, he loved this woman.

They worked in a comfortable silence for a few hours, both of them scribbling away through the mountains of paper and his ledgers. Eventually, once it struck midnight, Anthony insisted they finish for the night. He felt a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a considerable amount of work had been completed. He carried her upstairs, which Kate insisted was ridiculous but laughed the entire way until he lay her on the bed once they reached their bedchamber. Once they were in bed, Kate lay against his chest as his arms wrapped around her, resting on her bump.

“Kate?”

“Mm?” Kate responded, her eyes half closed as she began to doze off into a comfortable sleep.

“Thank you.”

She wiggled slightly until she faced him, her protruding stomach was beginning to make simple movements quite difficult. She turned her head to look at him, sleep forgotten as her fingers reaching to brush his hair out of his eyes. “Of course. It is a wife’s duty to take care of her husband. Even if one’s husband is too stubborn to ask for help occasionally.”

“And I believe it is a husband’s duty to take care of his wife?” He murmured, his lips making their way down her jawline.

“I believe so,” She whispered, closing her eyes as his hands began to push up her nightdress. “A happy wife is a happy life.”

“I could not agree more, Mrs. Bridgerton,” He replied, before he stopped talking and focused on the more important task at hand between her legs.

four.

“What is wrong?” Kate stared at her husband as he undressed for the night on his side of the bed. He had been unusually quiet all evening since he had returned home from his mother’s house. Anthony did not meet Kate’s eyes as he spoke, which was his giveaway. He could never look her in the eyes when he was upset or something was amiss. “Why would something be wrong?” Kate frowned at her husband, moving towards him to take his hand in hers. “We have been married how long? I know every single look and expression on your face. Talk to me.”

“Mother and I had an argument about Hyacinth’s debut to society,” He said, breaking his facade quite quickly as he let out a deep sigh. “Hyacinth got involved and it was not pleasant.”

Kate did not interrupt as he continued to speak, she just squeezed his hand.

“I think she should wait another year before she enters society, she does not. I proposed eighteen was an appropriate age to enter society, they both disagreed. Mother said I was acting foolish and it escalated from there, ending with Hyacinth declaring she despised me.” Kate bit her lip, shaking her head as she took his hand in hers. “She did not mean that. She was cross and she did not think about what she was saying. She adores you.” “I know,” He murmured, the words still echoing in his head and stinging. “I do not understand the rush. She is still a child.”

“I know darling,” She whispered softly, pushing herself up against the headboard so she could wrap her arms around his head and lay it against her chest. “I think she will always be a child in your eyes. But she has grown up now and she is ready.”

“I’m not,” His fingers played with Kates, his voice slightly hoarse as he stared at nothing.

It broke Kate’s heart, truthfully. Kate felt quite helpless, until an idea popped into her head. “I know what will make you feel better.”

Mary, their youngest of barely two months, slept in a crib at the end of their bed. She had been a surprise, a major surprise, since it had been seven years since Charlotte had been born. Kate knew there was a reason she had become pregnant again and she knew it was something to do with the loss of her own mother, Mary, just over a year ago. No one could ever replace Mary, Kate’s Mary, but a new baby had helped fill that gaping loss in Kate’s life when she had to say goodbye to her mother. When Anthony had whispered Mary into Kate’s ear, minutes after baby Mary was born, Kate had sobbed for a while. She may not know her grandmother but Kate would make sure she knew all about her, and so would Anthony, and that was all that mattered.

They had a nurse, but Anthony had been insistent that all four of their children slept in their room at night while they were infants. Particularly Mary, who had been born early and small. The birth had not been pleasant, and it would definitely be their last. Anthony had only relaxed in the last month or so, not spending most of the night checking Mary was breathing every ten minutes. Kate crawled to the end of the bed and reached into the crib, carefully picking up their sleeping baby. She had barely any hair, but the wisps were a chestnut colour just like Anthony. She had Kate’s nose and Anthony’s smile, which she had begun to show them only last week when Anthony had tickled her while they were laying outside on a blanket with the children on a sunny day.

When Kate looked at her baby, her gorgeous little baby, all she saw was her own mother, Mary. It didn’t make sense, but it just did and was such a comfort to Kate.

It was a risk to wake a sleeping baby, as it could turn into a screaming baby, but Mary seemed to sleep through anything. If it made Anthony feel better, it was worth the risk.

Mary was a very relaxed baby, rarely fussy or upset. She was an angel compared to their previous three, particularly Charlotte, who had kept the whole of Bridgerton house awake for a year.

“There we go,” Kate said softly, carefully laying Mary on his chest. “The perfect remedy.”

Anthony immediately shifted slightly, wrapping his arms carefully around Mary and ensuring she was comfortable on his chest. Mary had refused to sleep anywhere but against her mother or her father’s chest the first month of her life and it was a habit they had only managed to break recently. He leaned down carefully, inhaling that sweet baby smell, probably the purest smell in the world and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“Charlotte will probably be in here later tonight, begging to come in,” Kate murmured, referring to their youngest’s antics of sneaking past her nurse and conning her way into her parents bed. They had little willpower to refuse her. “I wonder what the reason will be tonight, a monster or a ghost?”

Anthony chuckled, shifting his arms around his youngest and resting his cheek against her small head. “She has quite the flair for the dramatics.” “I wonder where she got that from?” Kate teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I do hope you are not insinuating I am dramatic, Kate. I am a perfectly rational man,” He said, turning to smirk at her, a little light sparkling in his eyes. She could see he was feeling a bit better. “It is simply everyone else who is irrational.”

“Most definitely,” Kate said, mockingly nodding in agreement as they grinned at each other. “It is a good thing I find delusion quite charming.”

Anthony, the Viscount of Bridgerton, stuck his tongue out at her.

“I do wish they would stop growing,” Anthony murmured, his fingertips lightly moving up and down Mary’s back. It was one of Kate’s favourite things, watching Anthony with their children. He was so loving, so caring and he adored them with every part of him. He made it so easy to fall in love with him everyday. “Me too,” She murmured in agreement, watching her daughter’s back rise up and down softly as she slept. “Maybe Mary will grace us with our wish. She could stay this small and adorable forever.”

“Possibly,” replied Anthony, his voice nearly a whisper as he carefully shifted himself upwards, Mary curled against his chest. “I have an alternative proposal.”

“Enlighten me,” Kate said, raising an eyebrow at her husband as she carefully held Mary’s small hand between her thumb and index finger.

“They simply shall never get married and we shall stay in Bridgerton house together forever,” Anthony tilted his head slightly, giving Kate a stern look as she was already laughing at him. “I cannot fathom anyone worthy of our children.”

“I presume that is how most people feel about their children and ours are especially wonderful,” She replied, not wanting to tease him too much as Anthony was feeling fragile. “It is a lovely thought and as much as I wish we could keep them this small and ours forever, life must go on. There is no point worrying about the future, we must enjoy the present.”

“I shall need to be sedated for Charlotte’s debut,” Anthony murmured, knowing his wife was right. Of course she was right, Kate was always right. It was quite the nuisance. He did not know what he had done to deserve to have a family as perfect as his, but he needed to enjoy it and let his family enjoy it. Including his sister who was a few miles away quite furious with him.

“We shall all need a drink during Charlotte’s debut,” Kate said, laughing softly at her husband as she kissed the worried lines on his forehead. It was considered improper for women to drink but they would all let that rule slide. “I love her to death, but that child is something else. Quite like her aunt, don’t you think?”

Kate didn’t wait for Anthony’s response. “Hyacinth is a force to be reckoned with. The men of society will not know what is coming,” Kate was trying to make light of the situation to make him feel better, but she knew how difficult it was for him. “She will be controlling them all in a matter of hours. I know it is hard for you, but I promise it will be alright. We still have a long time to go with these four.”

“I know you are right,” He murmured, gulping slightly as he seemed to hold Mary tighter. “It is a frightening thought, her not needing me anymore. Ever since father’s death, they have all needed me. However, in recent times she was the only one I had left. She is Hyacinth. I cannot explain it but she has always been different. She has always needed me and now she is gone.”

“Darling,” She said softly, putting her finger under his chin to tilt it towards her. “Do we not have a Bridgerton here everyday to see you? To see us? There will not be a day that goes by that does not involve one of your siblings, or me, or the children needing you.” “Everyone needs you darling, you are the heart of this very family,” She leaned forward to brush her lips against his.

“What also is important is what you need. That is everyone’s priority as well. It is my number one priority. If you need time to process this and feel sad, that is perfectly okay. Also, everyone does not always need something from you Anthony. They just want you,” Her thumb was making small circles against his cheek as she leaned forward, inches between their lips. “We all adore you. You need to be cared for too and to let people take care of you.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Anthony said against her lips, kissing her as passionately as he could with a baby asleep on his chest.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” She replied as they broke apart, and she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before resting her nose against his. “We belong together, Lord Bridgerton.”

He smiled at her as she snuggled into his side, her hand covering his on their daughter’s back as they watched their youngest sleep. Whatever would come, he would always have Kate beside him. “Forever and Always.”

five.

The thick stubble had grown on Anthony’s cheek over the past two weeks since he had injured his hand while fencing. An accident had led to a deep cut across the palm of his hand. It was a painful and inconvenient injury and Anthony Bridgerton did not like to be inconvenienced. As for the stubble, Kate found it quite attractive but Anthony, who preferred a clean shave, had begun to find it rather itchy and irritating.

“Kate?” She heard Anthony’s voice call from the bathroom.

“Mm?” Kate was lying on their bed, distracted by the latest Jane Austen novel. It was the talk of London society at the moment and Kate couldn’t put it down. She was ready before her husband for a change for Daphne and Simon’s ball tonight, a rare occasion but always an entertaining one. The children were already in bed so Kate could enjoy her book as Anthony shaved before they departed.

“Would you shave me?”

That was enough to make Kate put her book down. She was not sure if she had heard correctly. Anthony rarely asked directly for help, Kate normally intervened or just knew what to do when it came to her husband, but this time he was willingly asking for it.

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart.” Kate had begged Anthony to let her shave him on a few occasions, out of curiosity and amusement, but he had never given in. She had married the most wonderful man in the world but definitely the most stubborn. A man who would view asking someone for help, including his wife, as the last resort. Anthony was a problem solver, including his own.

She called for a bowl of hot water, soap and some towels and one of the maids brought the supplies within a few minutes.

She walked into their bathroom to find a disgruntled Anthony sitting on the edge of the bath, the razor blade and a towel lying abandoned in the sink. Kate put her finger in the bowl of water he had summoned a while ago, and it was cold. He must have been failing at shaving for a while and she had been too busy with her book to notice.

“Come sit on the bed,” She extended her hand toward his uninjured one, pressing a kiss to it before he threaded his fingers through her own. She could not resist the smile on her face as he obediently sat on the edge of their bed. She put the towel around his neckline to avoid getting his shirt wet, and lightly brushed the water and soap onto his face.

“Do you know what you are doing?” asked Anthony, looking amused as he placed his hands on the back of her thighs. She was standing in between his legs, probably not the smartest idea considering it usually led to certain activities and would distract them from the task at hand.

“Of course. Stay very still,” She said slowly, taking his chin in her hand as she pushed his head slightly so his left cheek was facing her. She wet his cheek again with soap and water, then slowly dragged the blade down his cheek.

“It is amusing to me how much you are enjoying this,” He murmured, a small smirk playing on his lips as she tapped the blade against the edge of the bowl. She felt his fingers lightly tap against the back of her thigh and she gulped.

“Anthony,” She said sternly, removing her hand from his face to lightly tap his wandering hands on her thighs. “Stop distracting me.”

Anthony lightly chuckled, but she could see that look in her eye. She knew that look and she loved that look. It had led to four children and a lot of fun. “You do have a blade against my cheek, dearest. My life is more at risk than yours.”

Kate, the Viscountess of Bridgerton, stuck her tongue out at him.

She removed the blade from his cheek to clean it in the water and as she turned around, he kissed her. She giggled and protested against his lips but as his tongue slipped into her mouth, she lost any control she had. Her face was now covered in soap and was partially wet.

“Anthony,” She whined as they eventually broke apart, but her tone had nothing but adoration in it as she pretended to scowl at him. “I was ready for the ball.”

“You will always be the most beautiful woman in any room,” He replied, smiling innocently at her as he reached up and wiped the remnants of soap off her face. “You ask too much of me if I am meant to sit here and not kiss you. I am only a man, Kate.”

She kissed him again briefly, just because. “You are too smart for your own good. Now, I am nearly done. Hush and let me finish.” She chose to straddle him this time, both her knees on either side of him. What was she to do, not torture her husband when she had the perfect opportunity? His hands were back on her thighs as she straddled him, concentrating carefully on the task at hand. She could count the faint freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks, the ones she had counted a million times and she loved how they darkened in the summer.

“There we go,” She said softly after a few minutes, wiping his clear cheeks with a cloth. There was not a cut or blood in sight. “Perfect.”

He carefully took the blade out of her hand, putting it down on the chair at the foot of the bed before flipping her around so she was underneath him. He leaned towards her, stopping when there was a few inches between them before he spoke. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I love taking care of you,” She replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him towards her, their lips brushing a few times. “Are you not going to inspect my work?”

“There is no need,” He murmured against her lips, his hands working on the buttons of her dress and there was nothing in Kate that could make her stop him, even if they would be late to Daphne’s ball. “I trust you.”

Kate had been his wife for many years, she knew this man inside out, including his demons. Moments like this were precious when Anthony willingly let her help him and take care of him, as he always felt like he was the person who should be doing that. Her incredible husband rarely thought of himself and it broke her heart that he did not think a lot of himself at all. She vowed she would spend every day reminding him how incredible he was.

“You are so very handsome,” She murmured, placing her hands carefully on his cheeks as they both gazed at each other. His words made her flutter inside, her stomach feeling warm and ticklish, a feeling Anthony was the sole cause of, no matter how many years later. “An absolutely wonderful man. I do not think I tell you how much I love you enough. I absolutely adore you.”

“You only do it several times a day,” He teased her, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. “You do tell me enough, although I will never tire of hearing it. I love you so much. I do not think words do my love for you justice, but I love you.”

“You know,” Her lips began to trail kisses across his jaw, as her hands moved down towards his breeches. “I think Daphne will forgive us if we are slightly late.”

Anthony pulled back to grin at her, a delighted expression on his face. “She will forgive us for being half an hour late. It could be considered fashionable.”

Kate smirked back at him, feeling him pulling down her dress. “I was thinking an hour.”

“Oh Mrs. Bridgerton,” Anthony pulled Kate’s dress off completely and she squealed, losing her ability to speak as his lips began to trail their way down her stomach. “I could not agree more.”

#bridgerton #my fics #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #anthony x kate #kanthony #anthony bridgerton is the loml #a misunderstood amazing character who deserves everything #fanfiction #daphne bridgerton #simon basset #bring me S2 please #eloise bridgerton #the viscount who loved me #ao3

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sometimeseffable · 4 years

Text

a sudden proposal

Aziraphale finds he likes talking about Crowley rather a lot.

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Oh, ages. Practically since the beginning.”

The women coo. “High school sweethearts, how romantic!”

“Er, actually, the getting together bit was fairly recent. Our, uh, families weren’t too keen on it, so. Well. It was mostly me who put it off, I think Anthony would have been ready to elope a few thousand years ago.”

If there’s anything odd about the statement, the group doesn’t show it. They simply laugh it off as a humorous exaggeration, which Aziraphale is grateful for. Sometimes he forgets how time works for humans.

“Families can be hard,” says Candace sympathetically.

“Indeed. Took a while to get over thinking Gabriel would show up at my door just to tell me off - “ Aziraphale freezes, realizing the slip up far too late. Susan just clucks her tongue.

“Older brother?”

Relieved, Aziraphale nods. “A fairly overbearing one at that.”

“I know all about that,” Deidre interrupts. Adam’s mother had been, with a little demonic intervention, graciously welcoming of Adam’s ‘godfathers’ dropping in on the boy’s twelfth birthday party. Even if it was completely unannounced. “When Arthur proposed, my sister was not happy with me. Kept wanting me to get back with my ex, you remember John from secondary school? Well, I told her, I said…”

Aziraphale lets the idle chatter wash over him, pleased to be part of a human social gathering for the first time since Portland Place gentleman’s club closed. He glances over to where Crowley is busy entertaining the Them, and can’t help but smile.

The demon is engaging in a non-lethal watergun fight with the kids and Newt. The teams had started off as strictly Adults vs Kids, and has since devolved into Newt running around yelping as Crowley tag-teams with the Them in a desperate bid to get him soaked to the bone. They seem to have devised an exceedingly efficient battle strategy.

Aziraphale can just catch the edge of fangs in his demon’s manic grin. His entirely too-human heart flutters at the sight of Crowley letting go of his ridiculously aloof facade and having fun for once. Such a rare sight after centuries of looking over his shoulder, unappreciated by his colleagues and at constant risk of Hell’s displeasure.

“Anthony certainly knows how to handle kids,” someone remarks, bringing Aziraphale back to the present. “Do you ever want some of your own?”

He flushes under the August sun. “Oh - well, um, we’ve never - never really discussed it.”

The answer was a hard no, but the angel felt rather uncomfortable discussing the delicate horror of watching onesselve outlive their human children. Thankfully, Candace comes to his aid.

“Understandable. Anne and I didn’t even consider having kids until they passed the marriage act. I remember the day they passed it. Hopeless romantics, we were, we got married the very next day. It was all very exciting.”

There’s a moment of wistful joy as Candace gives him a knowing look, eyes quickly flicking down to the winged ring on Aziraphale’s pinky. He blushes harder.

“Oh,” he demurs, “No, we’re not - “

“Everything alright over here?” Crowley materializes at Aziraphale’s shoulder, somehow bone dry despite that he’d been manning a SuperSoaker 9000 for the better part of an hour. A plate slides smoothly into the angel’s lap. “Cake, angel?”

The women all twitter at the pet name. Suddenly, the idea of correcting Candace’s assumptions seems terribly wrong as Crowley settles into the lawn chair next to him, arm slung loose over Aziraphale’s shoulders. His demon is wildly animated in his storytelling, wooing the ladies further. Aziraphale listens to him with a flutter of pride and quietly eats his cake, contemplative.

The drive back to London is spent in comfortable silence. What had begun as Tchaikovesky’s 14th symphony has morphed slowly into the heart-aching refrains of Love of My Life. Crowley hums along softly, fingers laced through Aziraphale’s on the angel’s knee as he steers one-handed.

Aziraphale watches him. Warm light from the setting August sun catches his hair so that it shines like fire, painting delicate gold over high cheekbones. Those infernal glasses cover his eyes, yet he imagines they would be soft with contentment. In fact, with all the tension loosened from his shoulders, radiating love like a furnace as he is, Aziraphale is quite sure this is the most relaxed and - dare he say it - happy Crowley has ever been in his presence. Possibly, and he would be remiss not to consider it, his happiest since the Fall.

All of a sudden, the millennia he’s spent denying they were even friends feels like an anchor crushing his chest, collapsing his ribcage until he can barely breathe.

They break the silence at nearly the same time.

“So, I was thinking when we got back, we could get - “

“We should get married.”

Since they’re doing just ten over the speed limit, the Bentley’s screeching halt holds less promise of imminent discorporation than usual. Neither being moves; Aziraphale’s heart beats a rapid tattoo in his chest as Crowley stares at the road ahead of them, mouth ajar.

“...Thai,” the demon croaks, “I was gonna suggest Thai. Hang on, back up, you want us to what?”

Aziraphale wishes the seat would open and swallow him whole in a fit of cliche. “I - I said perhaps we should get married,” he says, voice sounding terribly small even to his own ears, “I just - well, I was talking to Candace, you know, Deidre’s friend, and - and she made an excellent point regarding - “

“Okay.”

“Sorry?”

“Okay,” Crowley repeats. The black glasses leave his face unreadable, “We’ll get married.”

It does not sound like the most enthused of proposal acceptances.

Aziraphale feels the swell of assured confidence deflate a touch. “Oh. Right then. Tickety...boo.”

Crowley nods and turns back to the road. The Bentley makes it another ten meters before it stops again.

“I can’t go in a church.”

“Loads of people get married other ways, dear.” Aziraphale wonders if that were a true concern, or a deflection that could be used as a big red TERMINATE button.

“Right.”

Another two meters before they stop.

Aziraphale throws up his hands, exasperated. “Oh for Hell’s sake, if you don’t want to marry then we won’t!”

“No!” Crowley yelps, strangled. He twists his ridiculously lanky body to face the angel, and were he capable of it, there would probably be sweat on his brow, “It’s not that, it’s just. Like married married. Like you want to spend the rest of eternity trapped in a legally binding contract to me in the eyes of the Almighty, and you think we won’t tear each other up because sssomeone’s leaving the telly on or dishesss in the sssink, and it’sss not too fassst - “

Aziraphale kisses him.

The rest of Crowley’s diatribe is muffled into a short mmph. Instinctively, his hands come up to frame Aziraphale’s face, protective as always. Aziraphale pushes the glasses back up into his hair. Wide gold eyes blink at him, terrified and hopeful and oh-so smitten.

Aziraphale presses another reverent kiss to his palm. “Too fast?”

“Never.” Crowley lets out a shaky breath. “Whatever you want, angel, s’long as you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure.” Aziraphale kisses him full on the mouth again, slow and sweet. Then he pulls away with a frown. “Don’t we miracle the dishes clean?”

“It’s an expression,” Crowley mumbles before swooping in for a thorough snog. Aziraphale’s hand tangles in his fiance’s hair - oh, but isn’t that a thought? A very, very lovely thought. Someone snaps their fingers; they fall, giggling, into the back seat, trading fervent, giddy kisses.

London can wait. They’ve got all the time they need.

---

Part two of the ineffable godfathers miniseries

#my writing #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable godfathers

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.14

A Special Visitor

11/03/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,660

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, angst, a teensy bit of fluff

A/N: Okay! Here it is. The chapter that most of you have been expecting. There was supposed to be more in it but it was getting too long and I thought it would be better to divert the rest to the next chapter. I hope you like it! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

TAGS ARE CLOSED FOR THIS STORY!

You’re eating when Peter thrusts your bedroom door open.

Mid-chew, toast with delicious raspberry jam freshly made sent up with a big pink bow tied around the rim of the small silver dish it was placed in—a gift from his Majesty apparently, the first of many Natasha assures you—you look up, your other hand still stroking the locket around our neck in contemplation.

The necklace is confusing, a weighty reminder of the painful first six months of your marriage and the promise that his Majesty made last night about giving you space.

His words of love. His declaration that he might not love you the way he loved Margaret, but that he loves you all the same.

You’re not sure what that means exactly. Is it not romantic? Does he not see you as a woman? Maybe you’re like a sister? Or some other kind of relation to him?

What if you are with child like you’ve been suspecting? Will he stop coming to your bed?

Not that you’d been enjoying yourself with him. His love making had been routine. Enough to get the job done. There’d been a few sweet caresses. A couple scandalous licks and suckles, but for the most part his Majesty had kept his head nestled in your neck.

He’d never once kissed you or looked you in the eyes the way Thor had.

Would a life without romantic love really be that bad? As long as you and his Majesty feel together, like a real family, does it matter that he won’t love you the way you’ve been loving him?

Your mind roams to Thor, his hands curled around your thighs as his head disappears between your legs.

The utter excitement of that moment, the wish that it was his Majesty’s head there making you feel the way Thor did makes you sigh.

You want his Majesty to want you. You want him to ravish you the way Thor did. To make you feel good. To stare into your eyes with that unbridled desire.

You want him to hold your hands, to caress them like he caressed it last night when he gave you your necklace back.

You want him.

But you’re angry.

And you hate him a little for all of the Margaret talk. He hadn’t realized he was doing it, but you don’t care.

You may be little, and unimportant, and poor in your own name, and as common as the dirt beneath your feet…but you’re woman enough that your pride is wounded when the man you love, your husband, compares you to the woman whose shoes you’ve been expected to fill.

Shoes you refuse to fill.

You aren’t Margaret. And you won’t try to be.

His Majesty seems to get that now, or so you hope.

“Peter?” Natasha asks, getting up from her seat by your freshly extinguished fire.

It’s hot in your room.

“They’re back.” He gasps, and Nat’s eyes widen.

“Where?” She demands.

“They’re coming up the Southern gate.” Peter swallows hard, catching his breath.

“Stay with her Majesty.” Nat orders, and sweeps from the room as she raises the yellow skirt of her dress to move with haste.

Slowly you rise, putting your bread down as you lick your lips.

“Who-?” You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you’d almost forgotten! “Bucky?”

Peter nods. “They’ll be here in minutes.”

“Does he have the old woman with him?” You wonder, your heart suddenly pounding.

“Yes.” Peter smiles then hurries to your side as your legs grow weak.

“Oh, my goodness!” He exclaims, catching your arm and wrapping his around your waist to help support you. “Are you okay?”

You nod, clinging to his offered arm as he helps you sit.

“Just a little dizzy.” And overwhelmed. You’ll know in minutes. Minutes. Whether you finally succeeded or not.

You’ve felt so terrible all these past few months, night after night of his Majesty coming to you and still you weren’t pregnant.

What if there’s something wrong with your body? What if you can’t give him an heir? He'll leave you for sure. Find a more fertile woman to bear his sons.

“Shall I get you some wine?” He asks, glancing at the decanter by your bread and jam.

“Water.” You sigh. “I’ll get it.”

You make to get up, to fetch your own water but Peter flicks his hand down towards your feet, forefinger and pinky extended, his thumb holding his two middle fingers down against his palm.

Whip! You hear, and stumble back into the chair but look down at your feet.

They’re wrapped up in sticky web, preventing you from moving them.

It had happened so quickly, between the moment you pulled your dress up to rise and falling back down, Peter had immobilized you.

“Peter!” You complain.

“I'll get your water." He moves to pour you a glass then hands it over, squatting down to cut your feet loose.

“How did you do that so quickly?” You ask him.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just do. Things move a little slow…but fast at the same time for me. I’m not sure how to explain it, your Majesty.”

He smiles at you then gets up to peek out towards the second set of doors to your room into the hallway.

You’ve been in Peter’s company for half a year and he had yet to show you his capabilities. Despite knowing who he is, what he can do, you’re suddenly aware of how modest he’s been about said abilities.

In fact, he’s tries his best to be as normal as possible. Almost as if he’s trying not to draw attention to it.

Still reeling from Peter’s display, you’re caught off guard as Nat crosses in, smiling, gesturing towards you as the weathered and kind familiar face from the mud pit comes shuffling through.

She stops in your doorway, Nat moving aside, Bucky moving around to stand behind Nat, his hand finding its way into her own.

He looks tired—his hair hanging limply, unwashed for the two days that he’d been gone, probably, still wearing the same clothes—but happy to be with his redhead.

You stand slowly, setting your glass of water aside as the woman narrows her eyes at you.

It takes her a moment but just as a light of recognition shines in her eyes, you find your voice.

“Hello again, grandmother. I see you never bought yourself a new dress.” You sigh, smiling at her fondly.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She moves towards you and with coarse wool gloves, the fingers cut off leasing frayed fabric, she caresses your cheeks. “I have been thinking on you since the day King Anthony abducted you.”

Nervously you look up at Nat as a small look of confusion overcomes Bucky’s face.

Nat’s pleased grin is replaced with understanding. She nods then turns to push Bucky towards the door.

“Okay, you’ve done your duty. Out.” She orders.

“Nat, what are you doing?” Bucky complains. “I wanna-”

“Her Majesty doesn’t care what you want. Give her some space. Why don’t you go bother Steve? He’s been pouting all day.” Nat turns as she gets him out of the room finally and shuts the doors with one final smile at you and a reassuring nod.

“Grandmother,” You sigh, reaching up to take her hands. “I-”

“I won’t tell anyone where you come from, don’t worry.” She pats your hand and you pull her towards the fireplace where you help her into one of your light blue seats and then take the other.

“Thank you. I don’t know what his Majesty would do if he found out that I’m not…”

The old woman leans away from you slowly, narrowing her eyes as she looks you up and down.

For a long moment, you hold your breath, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

This is why you had her brought here. This is why you wanted to see her and no one else.

He reaches up to press her right hand against your cheek then reaches down to place her left flat against the stomach of your dress.

She’s absolutely still, and with you she waits.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She says, and you inhale, heart breaking because you’re wrong.

You must be wrong because there’s no way she would sound so sad if you had succeeded.

Your lip quivers, eyes burn.

“You’re going to make a wonderful mother.” She states, and you half laugh and half cry as you cover your face with both hands at the sheer burst of joy that flares through you. “But you are unhappy.”

That’s why she sounded sad?!

You get a hold of yourself a bit, push your tears back but you can feel them hovering on your lashes.

“Oh, grandmother, I’m so happy.” You sigh, losing all strength in your legs.

She helps you sit down again, then takes the simpler chair in front of you.

“You can’t fool me, girl.” She says sternly, disapproving but you aren’t lying!

Pregnant. Finally. You can fulfill the last duty that you had as Queen of Broklin. And maybe you might be a fool for thinking it in the moment, but you know that his Majesty will be happy when you tell him that you’re finally with child.

“But I am happy. I have been so worried that there might be something wrong with me. His Majesty was able to begin a family with his first wife-”

“And you were afraid that you wouldn’t measure up?” She frowns. “He’s made you unhappy.”

That you can’t deny.

“I…marriage has been difficult. I never saw myself marrying to begin with. I thought I could live my little life out in my home. I never wanted much.” You lean back against the chair, tired. “I didn’t need a lot of money or fancy clothes. I would have been happy with maybe a few more jobs so that I could eat every day, but even that was not necessary.”

“You’re a fool.” The old woman says.

You meet her eyes and the scolding in her eyes is clear.

“Are you some meager waif?” She demands, her withered hand in a fist on your table.

“I-”

“Did you pull yourself out of obscurity so that you could let some spoiled, self-serving King walk all over you?”

“He’s not-” You begin, but she slams her hand on the table and it startles you so badly the words die on your lips.

“Why are you withering?”

Withering? You think back to when you first arrived, the excitement you’d felt. The eagerness to begin your new life.

All of that had disappeared over time.

You look down at your hands in your lap, carefully tracing the nails of your right hand with your left. Ashamed to look at the old woman because she saw you fight for yourself. You’d been completely different back at home.

Why have you let this defeat you?

“I…I didn’t expect to love my husband.” You admit, biting your bottom lip. “I was curious before we met but once we did, he was nothing like the men back home.”

“Just because he’s showered and dressed in silks does not make him superior, girl.” She scolds.

“It’s not that.” You give her a small grimace, a shake of your head as you think back to the small things that had made you fall hard. “With others, he was different. He loves his friends and does everything that he can to ensure their happiness.

“He was considerate, even if he didn’t speak kindly with me. His words were harsh and unkind, but he’d make sure that I was comfortable. When he learned that I could not read or write, he brought the best scholars to teach me.

“When he learned that I enjoyed jellies and jams, he asked the cooks to make more of it so that I never had a breakfast without it. I’ve wanted for nothing, grandmother, save for his love in return.” You bite your lip, wondering if you should admit this to someone…you didn’t even tell Thor…

“I—I saw him a few times, watching me. A soft expression on his face. I don’t think he knows that I saw him, but when he would look at me in that way, I thought that maybe he was beginning to like me? Perhaps he might someday even come to love me?”

“And he has not?” She asks, uncertain.

“He says that he does.” You sigh. “I ran away.”

“Oh, everyone knows that the Queen of Broklin went missing. Rather, they know that she suddenly disappeared. Some speculators were certain that the King had killed her himself.” She states.

You’re shocked though you really shouldn’t be. Gossip can be terrible, and you know that not many people like you. None of the nobility anyway. Not in Broklin. Your friends are the poor and the wretched.

That’s where you fit in the best.

“People are terrible.” You frown.

“They saw his dislike for you. He has only himself to blame.” She waves her hand, unimpressed with his Majesty it seems and although you’re grateful that she’s so resolutely on your side, you also feel a surge of protectiveness towards him.

The urge to defend him.

You bite the inside of your cheek and will yourself silent. His Majesty doesn’t need you to fight for him. He fights for himself well enough.

Saying nothing, you wallow once again in the pit you’ve managed to crawl into with his Majesty pushing you away all this time. Only now do you see how his neglect really affects you.

Only someone who knew the old you would see it to point it out.

“There, there, dear. I mean nothing by it. But I didn’t swear to your mother on her deathbed that I would look out for you only to have you wilt into submission for a man. King or not.” She nods, firm, decided.

She’s so strange. She doesn’t speak like the beggar woman you thought she was. She almost sounds like nobility herself.

“Will you stay close by?” You wonder, hoping that she’ll remain in Broklin. “I don’t know what to expect with the baby, and I would like you to be here when I give birth.”

The old woman smiles, finally, a bit of kindness for you though you know she means well with her chastising.

“Of course. I have no one else who depends on me.” She reaches for your hands again and gives them a squeeze before cackling, voice raspy and rough as you join her with a chuckle.

“So, will you tell your husband?” She wonders and you don’t need her to clarify what she means.

Your own smile slides right off. Knowing your answer already after thinking about it for two days.

“No.” You sigh. “I want to tell him. I want to make him happy, but I also don’t want to see him. I don’t want to be near him. If I tell him that I’m with child, he will want to be around, and I need a rest. I can’t keep listening to him compare me to her.”

Grandmother nods.

“I’ll wait a little while. Just until I know I can face him again and hold my chin up.” How long that will take, you have no idea.

~~~~~~~~~~

You move Grandmother into a small cottage on the castle property. It’s past the garden, nestled into an outcropping of forest. Shrouded in moss, vine, and pretty yellow wildflowers that make you smile.

She refuses as long as she can, but you insist longer.

You don’t want to ask his Majesty for anything, but with Grandmother here, you need a reason to give him.

My King,

I know that I asked you to keep your distance for my own respite and I had no intention of contacting you, but I was wondering if I might hire a woman to help me improve my health?

She was one of my tutors in the school my father sent me to, and I would greatly appreciate having her close by. I am still not well and could use the assistance.

And because you didn’t want to see ungrateful or uncaring…

I hope you’re well. And that you’re eating and sleeping. I know you pace…

Too much, Y/N.

Regards,

Queen Y/N Rogers of Broklin

If there was one good thing that you felt about writing your letter it was that you finally had a true task to use your schooling on.

Your letters are still a little clumsy. They’re nowhere near as beautiful as Nat’s or your tutor’s, but they are legible.

You’d had to look up a word or two to remember the spelling, but you’re proud as you hold it out to Nat and watch her raise her eyebrows then smile at you.

“I’ll deliver it right away.” She’d said.

His Majesty had replied within half an hour. It felt eager.

Y/N,

Of course, you may hire a new maid, you are entitled to your own servants and may hire a staff as large as you please.

I hope that you are not straining yourself and that you are eating well. You must eat to gain your strength back, my pigeon. Please, do not deprive yourself. I’ll have food sent up every hour in case you get hungry.

Shit…did someone overhear you and Grandmother about being pregnant? You haven’t even confirmed it for Nat.

No. That’s excessive. I’ll have them bring two servings at mealtimes for you, in case you are hungrier than you anticipate.

If you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask. If I can do something to help…I love you, my darling.

Your stomach flips and your heart erupts into uncontrollable flutters that travel down along your arms and make your fingers numb.

I know you don’t believe me yet, but I’ll keep trying. I’ll never stop trying, Y/N.

You look over at the table with a freshly picked bouquet of peonies, a new pale red cloak—not pink just muted—and a book about the different types of flowers that grow in the region.

Thank you for sending me a letter. Your writing has gotten so much better and your spelling is impeccable.

His gushing has your neck all hot, your ears are on fire, and your damn heart is hammering against your ribcage.

Whatever you want, I will give you. But if I might? Please don’t leave me.

Yours forever,

Steven G. Rogers

You’d sat there in stunned silence until Nat finally came in leading a group of maids to serve your dinner.

You’ve spent two weeks avoiding his Majesty. You miss seeing him for more than just a few seconds. You miss being around him, but he’s respecting your wishes and you are grateful.

“Will you see him today?” Nat asks, setting your tea down before sitting down beside you.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Y/N…” She begins, and you know that tone.

She’s going to fight for him. Try and convince you.

You’re not sure what state he’s in and you don’t want to know. The few times you’ve seen him, he smiles at you. Trying to reach you. His eyes glittering blue pools pouring hope and what you think might really be love but you don’t know because you’ve never seen it in him.

Luckily, your doors are pushed open and you turn to look as Tony and Pepper hurry in, preventing Nat from pleading for his Majesty.

You get to your feet and smile, then it falters as Pepper rushes to put her arms around your shoulders and hug you close while Tony stops only two steps into your bedroom, a tick in his jaw, dark eyes full controlled rage.

This is the first time you’ve seen them since his Majesty carried you into the castle.

Those moments are a blur. A mixture of drifting in and out of consciousness and clear images of him looking down at you in concern as he pleads with you—“Please, Y/N, please. Don’t leave me.”—and the flashes of other familiar faces.

“Well?” He asks, and Pepper turns in your arms to look at him.

“Tony,” She begins, moving to your right while she keeps her left arm around your waist.

She looks so beautiful, her red hair gathered up on her head, a small silver tiara with large yellow diamonds along the front.

“No, mother. I-I deserve his anger.” You swallow hard, trying to push past the lump in your throat. “I shouldn’t have run away.”

“No.” Father says, “You damn well shouldn’t have.”

You want to square your shoulders and protest being chastised again like a child, but you know what you did.

“I’m sorry.” You shrink, but Pepper’s arm tightens around you and she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“If you were struggling here, if you needed a break, we would have come for you. We would have taken you away from here. Do you have any idea how worried we were?” Tony demands, his voice intense but not a shout.

It’s nearly shaking.

“Forgive me. I didn’t think. I just…I wanted to stop doing the right thing…the proper thing for a while. I wanted to feel what I was feeling and not consider the consequences.” You sigh, frustrated with yourself and the way your marriage had taken a nosedive at that point.

“How’d that work out for you?” He asks, but most of the anger is gone now. “If something like this happens again, if you cannot stand being here, we are a day’s journey away. All you have to do is write and we will come and fetch you.”

His promise is genuine and finally you look up to meet his eyes.

You have no time to really look at him though because he’s already crossed over to you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“I wasn’t joking when I said you were a daughter to me.” Father whispers into your ear.

You can feel mother’s hand stroking your shoulder and then father’s arm to comfort him too.

“She’s alright, Tony. Look at her. She’s much better.”

“I could just kill him.” He fusses. “Make it look like an accident? Extend Malibia with this kingdom? It would be really easy.”

You huff a small laugh and hug him back, feeling warm and safe in a way you haven’t since the death of your parents.

“I really am sorry, father.” You sigh, regretful of the sorrow you must have caused them.

“As long as you’re alright,” Mother says, “We’re alright. We only want you to be happy.”

Father finally pulls back to look you over.

“I know what I asked of you. If he’s not making you happy-”

You smile at him, reaching down to take his hand and mother’s in your other.

“It’s getting better. And…” You drag your teeth along the already bitten flesh of your bottom lip. “…I love him.”

You feel a wave of shame and disappointment. He’s treated you so…what if you’re wrong to stay?

“King Steven is a good man.” Mother offers, seeing the torment you’re in. “I was very angry at him this past month, but he’s assured me that he will begin to treat you as you deserve. He’s had to deal with a lot since Margaret died and I think he’s finally ready to move on.”

He loves me. But not the same.

“What if I can’t make him happy?” You worry.

“To hell with him, then.” Father growls. “Come home.”

“Tony.” Mother chastises him.

She elbows him, pushing him aside as she takes your hands and moves to sit you down and sit across from you.

“Marriage is one of the hardest things you will ever do. Sometimes, he’ll drive you crazy. So crazy that you’ll think about leaving him. It might not be a lasting thought. Sometimes, it comes and goes in a second. But it will test you. Life with another person can be messy. You are both separate people with needs and wants that may not always be the same.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you can overcome this hurdle. If you do love him and if he loves you as much as he told me he does, I’m certain that you two will overcome all of the obstacles that life might throw you.” She reaches up to stroke your cheek and you lean into her hand, still nervous but your heart is a little more at ease.

“Thank you, mother. I will try hard to be a good wife.” You promise.

“Just be happy.” Father grumbles, moving to stand beside mother.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders and draws her attention up to him.

“When did you want to leave me?” He asks, pouting a little.

“Tony, don’t start.” She sighs, winking at you as she gets up and moves to your tea table where Nat is already serving her a cup.

“Darling, If I did something to make you angry, I need you to tell me what it was so that I never do it again. You can never leave me.” His eyes are wide, and he really does look as if he’d be lost without her.

You watch them for a minute, the gentle smile that crinkles the corners of mother’s eyes as father takes her in his arms as she tries to pull away to sit down at the table.

They play like that for a bit but then a thought occurs to you.

You look around towards your bedroom doorway.

“Where’s Morgana?” You know she’s home. Or she’s been home.

Shortly after you were married, she came home.

“She’s on her way now. She’ll be here tomorrow at noon.” Mother says, finally managing to sit down.

“Where is she?” You wonder. “Why didn’t she come with you?”

“She had lessons to finish up that she missed when she was off running away—maybe they’re really related!” Father says, turning wide eyes on mother.

“She’s travelling alone?” You worry, fretting over the teen.

“Not like she hasn’t done it before. But no, she’s coming with someone. A friend.” Father assures you.

“Thor?” You ask eagerly.

Father narrows his eyes at you. “How did you-? Yes. He was coming back in from Asgard and offered to escort her.”

Like sunshine, the news that Thor is coming back after not having seen him since your return, warms you pleasantly. Your body is absolutely humming for him. You miss him. After spending more than a month with only him, he’s become indispensable.

Suddenly, tomorrow looks much brighter than today.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve isn’t feeling well.

He hasn’t been feeling well since you came back home and told him that you didn’t want to see him.

Every lingering gaze, every moment you’d tried to take his hand, all those quiet moments when you’d wanted to talk to him, and he could sense it in the air had been taken for granted.

You’d wanted him then. You’d wished he would let you in. You’d wanted to be a part of his life and now…now you can’t even look at him for more than a few seconds.

He waits with pained anticipation for you to come out of your writing and reading lessons, just so that he can cross into his council room and pass you as he does.

His heart pounds as you stop when he crosses in front of you. He stops and he bows, it’s not exactly a warm greeting, but he wants you to know that he respects you.

You’ve given him no indication that he might greet you any other way.

You curtsy back. Then you meet his eyes for two seconds. They’re endless and too fast all at once.

Not a word has passed your lips and he’s glad to see that you’ve at least gained a little weight since coming back home.

You’re eating. You don’t look as tired as you used to.

He could kick himself for having made you restless.

He misses touching you.

He might not have shown it because Margaret was always there, pressing herself in between the two of you as he laid on top of you and took you.

Every moment he spent sheathed within you, Margaret’s face danced behind his eyes.

That didn’t make him blind to you though.

The way your skin felt pressed against his. You were never completely naked, and he hates that he never let you enjoy yourself. He prevented the two of you from connecting and he hates that now that he’s willing to let it all fall away, the damage he’s caused is done and you don’t want him anymore.

He had you. You were right there, in his hands, and he let you go. He actively prevented you from coming close and all he wants to do now is wrap you up in his arms and kiss you.

Fuck! He hasn’t even kissed you.

And you’re so healthy now. Lips looking luscious and just begging to be devoured and he just knows that Thor kissed you. He must have. How could he have resisted?

Steve sees red. Murderous rage and agony tear at his chest as he reminds himself that he has only himself to blame. He pushed you into someone else’s arms.

He regrets all of it. He regrets everything that he did because he couldn’t let go of Maggie.

You’re in his every thought now. As much as Margaret was. No. You’re in his head more. When he wakes, he wonders if you’ve eaten. When he lays down to sleep—on the days that he manages to coax himself into bed—he pictures you laying beside him. Cuddled up against his side.

Had you slept beside Thor when you were out of the castle? You must have. He would have held you in his arms probably.

Steve sighs, slamming the side of his fist against the top of his desk sending quills scattering and an inkwell tossed over from the hit.

“Sure. Take it out on your desk. It’s all the desk’s fault.” Samuel chides.

“Let his Majesty express his discontent, Sam.” Bucky says, moving towards that special corner that Steve had made up for Margaret so long ago.

“Stay away from there.” Steve orders, looking up at Bucky before rising to his feet and crossing the room to verify that the thick white curtains he’d had installed are still shut tight.

“Why did you close it off?” Bucky asks, dropping his hand just as Steve cuts in front of him.

“I didn’t close it off.” Steve says, “I’m remodeling. I’m not ready to show it to anyone.”

“You’re getting rid of Maggie’s corner?” Sam asks, sounding surprised but also impressed.

“I have to.” Steve sighs. “I can’t keep clinging to the past. Not if I want to make things with Y/N work.”

“Can you make it work?” Bucky wonders, moving to sit on the edge of Steve’s desk.

Steve looks at him, hands still holding the curtains shut.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be able to?” He demands, upset at the implication that he can’t.

He must. You’re his. You’re his wife. No one will take you away from him. He’ll make sure you know that you’re all that matters…even if he slips up. He’ll hid it. He’ll bury his grief for Maggie down deep so that you never have to feel like you’re not enough again.

“You shouldn’t rush it, Steve. If you need to let go, let go at your own pace. Her Majesty will-”

“What?” Steve demands. “Understand? I compared her to Margaret, Buck. Every day. All day. I can hear myself now. Margaret wouldn’t do that. Margaret did this. Maggie liked that. Maggie hated this. Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it until the night she left me. For the sake of our marriage, I need to put Maggie behind me.”

“We understand that, Steve.” Sam pipes in. “We’re not saying that you shouldn’t try and move on, all we’re saying is that you should give yourself a little bit of a break. You and Maggie were…what you two had was not something that you find every day. Losing that is hard.”

“Losing Y/N is harder.” Steve sighs, turning to face the curtains. “My life is full of tough choices. Darkness surrounds me. Hydra, Pierce, Rumlow, Hand, and all the others…Evil is everywhere. Y/N is everything good that I keep fighting to preserve. Did you see what she did with the people? The poor?”

“Yes.” Bucky nods. “She’s done a lot for the people of the Kingdom.”

“Margaret didn’t have time for things like that. Her life was all about the evil. She made it her job to help me eradicate it and I hate to admit it, but the Kingdom floundered with both of us focused elsewhere.

“Then this girl comes out of nowhere and she…she reminds me that it isn’t just me and the evil. It’s more. She depends on me. There are millions of other people who depend on me. I-I already knew that, but she showed me that there was more that I could do. I don’t have to be the Captain only. I can be Steve Rogers, King of Broklin, and make a difference in a very significant way.” Steve can’t believe what he’s about to say, but it’s true and he can’t deny it.

“She’s the Queen this kingdom deserves. The Queen that Margaret could never be. Y/N is the woman that was meant to rule at my side. I love her.” Steve nods, smiling lightly as he accepts what he’s been afraid to admit to himself, to his friends, and to Margaret’s memory. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure that she knows that.”

Bucky meets Sam’s eyes. Softly, they smile.

P.S. I was going to include these, cut up and placed where they are in story but as I was adding them, I began to worry that maybe not everyone would be able to read them so I decided to include them in their entirety at the bottom instead. I spent WAY too much time working on these. Anyway, enjoy.

#king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #medieval au #arranged marriage au #medieval fantasy #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel au #pseudo princess #avengers x reader

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broadwayyaddict · 4 years

Text

Dedication

Jasmine smoothed her hands over her dress, turning around in the mirror for the 7th time. She smiled every time she saw her bump, seeing as how the dress highlighted it. She left her room and went to Anthony's, knocking on the door.

"Ant, it's me," she told him.

"Come in!" he responded and she opened to door.

His jaw dropped as soon as he saw her and Jasmine laughed.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "You look...oh my god."

"And you look very handsome, my love," she responded, cupping his cheek and kissing him.

"I married the most beautiful girl in the world," he said. "An' now we're gonna have the most beautiful daughter."

Jasmine laughed again, taking his hand. "It's time," she told him.

He squeezed her hand nervously and they were guided to where the red carpet was.

"I know you're nervous," she whispered to him. "I can tell by the way you're holding my hand."

"You know everything about me," he said, chuckling.

Jasmine smiled, placing her hand on her bump.

"How's bubba doing?" he asked.

"She's kicking a little bit, but it's nothing I can't deal with," she responded. "First red carpet with her though so I'm a little nervous."

"You look stunning baby girl," he whispered to her, kissing her cheek.

Jasmine smiled even more, cradling her stomach with her free hand.

Anthony seemed even more protective of her this time on the red carpet, knowing that he didn't want her stressing out. Jasmine was still somewhat worried about him though.

He was nominated for Best Actor this year for In The Heights and this was the biggest award he had ever been up for. She tried to release some of that tension by rubbing his back and holding onto his hand.

When they were ushered to their seats, Jasmine could just see the nerves growing in him. She rubbed his back, kissing his cheek. "Take a deep breath bubba," she told him. "You need to calm down before the show starts so you don't pass out."

He nodded and Jasmine laid her head on his shoulder, lacing her fingers through his. She placed her other hand on her bump, gently rubbing it. She did her best to keep him calm throughout the show, but she was starting to get somewhat tired. It was much later back in New York and their daughter was also tiring her out.

She closed her eyes, letting herself rest. Anthony saw her eyes shut and kissed her forehead, whispering, "I'll wake you up when it's time."

She nodded and drifted in and out of sleep, waking up when people applauded and almost immediately falling back asleep. Anthony rubbed her back when it was the commercial break before Best Actor.

"Is it time?" she asked and he nodded. "You know I'll love you no matter what."

"I know," he responded, kissing her forehead.

The break ended and the presenter came on stage, announcing the nominees. Anthony could feel the nerves settling in his stomach and he took a few deep breaths, squeezing Jasmine's hand.

"...Anthony Ramos, In The Heights..." the presenter said.

Jasmine smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

"And the Oscar goes too," she paused, opening the envelope. "...Anthony Ramos, In The Heights!"

Anthony felt time stop and Jasmine pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before standing and clapping with everyone else. The sounds of applause became muffled as he walked down the aisle and he could only hear his heart beating.

He got up onto the stage, taking the award and shaking the presenters hand. Everyone he wanted to thank ran through his head and it seemed like too many people. He decided to keep it simple.

"Alright, there's so many people I wanna thank but then we'll be here for hours and I just don't have that time. First off, I want to thank my mom, my brother, and my sister. They supported my dream ever since I was young and pushed me to keep at it. I want to thank Sara Steinweiss for continuing that support and helping me enroll and get a full ride to AMDA. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be standing on this stage right now. I want to thank Lin-Manuel Miranda for jump starting my career, creating this amazing musical, and trusting me enough to take on the roll."

He saw Jasmine smiling at him through the crowd and she was the only person he could focus on. "I also want to thank my beautiful wife Jasmine for supporting and loving me no matter what...and I want to dedicate this award to our daughter who will be here in just a few months. She has already inspired me to be a better husband, a better father, and a better actor. This is a scary world, but if I can inspire her to make it a little bit better through art and telling stories, then that's what I'm going to do. Thank you so much."

He walked off stage as the applause started. Jasmine didn't realize she was crying until she covered her mouth and felt the tear tracks on her face. She cradled her bump, looking down and laughing quietly. "You have the best daddy in the world," she whispered.

She was still crying when he came back to his seat and he took her hand. "I love you so much," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.

He gently pressed his lips to hers and he mumbled, "You two are the best thing that have ever happened to me. I couldn't leave you out of this."

She laughed again, squeezing her hand. "Lemme see it," she said, taking the award from him. She traced her finger over it, seeming in awe.

"Wow," she whispered, staring at it. "We're so proud of you baby."

"Thank you," he responded, kissing her forehead.

"Did Ma call already?" she asked.

"Yeah," he responded. "They're all together at Mama Kim's house watching."

"Oh that's good," she said, brushing her thumb over her stomach. "I'm gonna show her that clip forever. Then she'll know how amazing her daddy is."

He laughed and said, "I will always love her."

Jasmine yawned, laying her head on his shoulder.

"You tired baby?" he asked.

"Yeah," she told him. "Can we skip the after party? I'm tired and I just want to go back to the hotel and rest."

"Is bubba making you tired?" he asked.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "An' the fact that home is three hours ahead."

"We can do that," he told her. He kissed the top of her head once more, resting his cheek on her head.

Jasmine let herself sleep until the awards were over and gently woke her up. He wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her as they walked out of the building.

The night was cool and she took a deep breath, tucking herself against him. "This was an amazing night," she mumbled. He smiled, leading her to the car. She got in and snuggled against him once again, closing her eyes.

"'M so tired," she told him.

"I know love," he responded, rubbing her back. "We'll be at the hotel soon."

They went back up to their room and Jasmine immediately pressed her hand to her back. "This dress is so uncomfortable," she said.

"You need some help?" he asked and she nodded.

"I can't reach the zipper," she told him and he unzipped the back of her dress, handing her leggings and one of his t shirts.

She went into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later, immediately curling up in bed. Anthony changed and got into bed with her. He laced his fingers with hers and she whispered, "I'm so proud of you my love. You're so amazing."

"I couldn't have done this without you, like I said in my speech," he mumbled. "I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you an' bubba."

"You can't do that to me," she told him, giggling. "I'm tired and six months pregnant, you're gonna make me cry again."

He kissed her and she turned around, snuggling up to him. He wrapped his arm around her and pressed soft kisses to the back of her neck.

"I love you so much," he told her. "An' bubba too."

"We love you too," she responded. "Forever and a day."

#janthony #oneshots #fanfiction #fluff #janthonywithkids #pregnancy

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thirteenisles · 4 years

Text

Can’t Say We’re Friends | 7

A/N: Surprise! I decided to drop part seven early, because, well I can. Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate it. I hope you had or are having a happy and safe holiday. There will be no part eight on Monday, as I am preparing to start my new position, but for now, I really hope you enjoy this part and as promised, it’s a bit longer than usual.

Warnings: feelings, confessions, mentions of a panic attack, and two massive idiots.

Word Count: 3k

Connecticut was the escape that Evelyn so desperately needed, driving alongside the seaside in a drop-top car, wind in her hair, and letting her mind relax for once. The warm weather, the bright sunshine, not having to worry about anyone else. Part of her knows what she's doing is wrong, she's here with her ex-boyfriend, practically on a romantic getaway, minus the romantics.

Turning she looks at Eric whose focused on the road, she studies his features and part of her wonders how they weren’t the endgame. You could call Eric Stefano, the one that got away. He was every mother’s dream; educated, intelligent, a gentleman, and always lending a helping hand.

They met at a college party, Eric coming from NYU while Evelyn was at FIT; the therapist and the fashionista, the most unlikely couple to come about. They dated for three solid years before they ended on friendly terms, but Evelyn had always sworn he’d be the one she’d marry.

But she has the sliver band, tucked away in her pocket.

Eric pulls into the driveway of his family's beach house and gets out of the car first, jogging to the other side to open the door for Evelyn, before heading into the house with the groceries they had bought. She ignores her phone as it goes off again, it's either Mat or Beth, neither of which she will answer for.

“It’s nice to be back here,” she states, turning on the kettle after finishing putting everything away.

“Yeah, it feels good to get away sometimes.” Eric sits at the breakfast bar, tapping his fingers against the marble, “But you’ve been stuck in that pretty little head of yours, what are you thinking about?”

She shrugs, “Nothing much.”

“Hm, the look of discomfort tells me otherwise.”

“All right Dr. Stefano, quit trying to poke around in my head.”

He chuckles, “I can’t help it, but you’ve always been so easy to read, Evelyn. You’ve been off since the moment you touched down. You came here for a reason and it’s more than just seeing an old boyfriend.”

She doesn’t answer him, busying herself with making both of them a cup of tea, “Do you want any milk in yours?”

“Yes, meet me in the sunroom, you know how I like my tea.” As soon as he leaves the room, Evelyn is gripping the counter, trying to remember how to breathe. Her back hurts from how tense it is. There’s way too much on her mind and she can’t sleep because of her mind racing. Her mind is playing her kiss with Tito on a loop and every time she remembers, her cheeks heat up and her heart beats a little faster, “we’re just best friends.” She mutters to herself.

The sunroom had always been one of the most tranquil rooms at his parent’s beach house, floor to ceiling windows that let in all this beautiful natural lighting, and his mother had adorned the room with multiple sun-loving plants. Eric is laying there on a blue velvet chaise, enjoying the sunshine. Evelyn sets down the tea down on the table and sits on the ottoman across from him.

“Why are you really here Evelyn?”

“To see you of course.” The lie rolls off her tongue so easily.

He slowly sits up, “I thought we agreed we’d never lie to one another. Now, I will ask you again, why are you really here Evelyn?”

She struggles to give him an answer, choosing to stare at her tea instead. She does know why she’s here: answers.

Eric sighs, “Evelyn, you married Anthony. You’re both pretending to be in love around your families, you kissed him, I think you know where I am going with this.”

“I don’t actually.” Another lie.

“Do you know why we never worked out?” He doesn’t wait for her to answer, “Because I couldn’t keep sharing you when your heart belonged to someone else.”

Her eyes widened, “Eric, the only person I loved was you.”

“Whether you’re in denial or trying to avoid the truth, the thing is I couldn’t watch it any longer. I was so jealous of him because I had you, but I really didn’t have you the way I wanted too.”

“Wait….what did you have to be jealous over? I loved you.”

“And I loved you, but I always saw how your eyes lit up whenever you got so little as a text message from him. It was one of those little things that helped me realize that maybe it wasn’t meant to be between us.” Eric gently takes her hand in both of his, “Here’s the thing Evelyn, I know you loved me and I will always cherish what we had together, but you weren’t in love with me, what we have is a different kind of love. Whether you have realized it or not, your heart has always been with someone else. I don’t hold that against you, Eve, you’re still one of my dear friends and I care about you deeply. I want you to be happy.”

“He’s- Tito is my best friend, and yeah, I love him, but I’ve never looked at him any differently, like romantically.

“Back then I thought we were meant to be together forever, as time went on I saw how you started to act differently than what I felt back then. I saw how you started to act differently when we would even so much as go out to dinner. I remember one night that set it in stone for me that your heart wasn’t mine. You kept disappearing to “go to the bathroom”, and that night we had a window seat. You walked right past me while you were on the phone and there was a text from him that said, “It’s always great to hear your voice” with a kiss emoji. It was at that time that I knew my love for you needed to change. I was able to convince myself that I could still have a love for you, just a different kind. It’s love for someone who wants to continue to be your friend and see you happy.”

“Eric- I- I never meant to hurt you if you think that was my intention. I’d never ever want to hurt you, I loved you so much.”

He reaches up and brushes her tears away and smiles softly, “I know, Eve. It’s clear to me though that Tito is the one that clearly makes you the happiest, so if you need my help in any way, I am here to give you the tools you need to build that bridge.”

Evelyn chokes up and Eric moves to sit next to her, wrapping his arms around her as she cries.

“I love him, but he’s my best friend Eric, he’s my best friend,” she repeats herself.

“And there is nothing wrong with falling in love with your best friend, in fact, there is no better person. But I want you to not only listen to what you’re saying but how you’re saying it. When you are talking about him, you are literally changing your train of thought mid-sentence. You are trying to convince yourself that you’re not in love with him.”

“I am not!” her whole body is shaking.

“I know, I know that you’re overwhelmed with emotion right now, it’s a lot, it’s a lot for anyone. However, the worst thing you can do is continue to live in denial. Once you are able to confront these feelings and embrace them, I promise you, that you will be a lot more clear-minded than you have been in weeks.

Her head is spinning and she feels like she can’t breathe. Eric pulls her closer and squeezes her, running his fingers through her hair to soothe her. She can hear him telling her to breathe, and it sounds like he’s underwater and she’s drowning. She hyperventilates, tears streaming down her face.

It takes a little while before she finally calms down, Eric still holding her. She wipes away at her eyes and reaches for her now cold tea, taking a sip to quench her sudden thirst.

“You ok?” he asks, “I feel like I might have pushed you a little too far there.”

“I’m fine, I needed to hear that.” He nods slowly, waiting for her to give him a sign to continue.

“Talk to me, how do you feel about him?” He asks when she lets him speak again.

“I don’t know! I don’t know how I feel! It’s driving me up the wall because he’s my best friend! And it- God- it fucking terrifies me that I- that-“ her voice lowers to a whisper, “I have feelings for him...”

Saying it out loud is a lot different than thinking it in your head. She pauses and like a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped on her, eyes widening as she looks at Eric, “oh my god. I have feelings for Tito.”

Eric smiles, “Yes you do, and that’s ok, so tell me, Evelyn, what are you so afraid of?”

“I’ve never- I don’t know...I’ve been denying it for so long that now it’s just so overwhelming, everything that I am feeling. He means everything to me and if I tell him, how I feel, what if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“I will tell you this, you aren’t going to get anywhere if you don’t tell him how you feel. He needs to know, it’s not fair to keep this a secret from him.”

“I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

“A real friend wouldn’t let something like this ruin a friendship. Besides, how do you know if he feels the same or not? It’s time to be honest Evelyn, no more secrets. What you need to do now is talk to him and tell him how you truly feel.”

Nodding, she knows that she has to face her anxiety and go home, it wasn’t fair to Tito or her to keep this a secret.

“It’s like Wayne Gretzky once said, “you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

She bursts out laughing, smiling genuinely for the first time since she’s gotten here, “Oh my god, I can’t believe you just quoted Gretzky.”

Grinning he continues, “So the puck is on your stick so are you going to pass or shoot?” She’s laughing even harder, it causes him to break out into a fit of giggles, and she swats at his arm, “You’re the worst!”

“I’ve passed you the puck, you were wide open, you have a shot, now take it.”

Evelyn smiles as she waves to Eric from the security checkpoint, before turning to start walking towards her gate, she hears him yell out “don’t forget to invite me to the real wedding!” she snorts, turning to give him the finger, and watches as he laughs and gives her a cheeky wink.

When she arrives back at the house, she dumps her suitcase by the door, along with her shoes and collapses on the couch. She was thankful that Tito wasn’t home yet, because it gave her time to figure out what she was going to say. She had been preparing the whole train ride what she needed to tell him. It would be a miracle if she could make it through tonight without throwing up.

The sound of a car pulling up the driveway, causes Evelyn to jolt awake, she didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep. Quickly wiping away any drool and sleepy eyes, her heart is pounding as he unlocks the door and walks in.

Having not seen him in a month, but now with a completely different perspective, her hands shake a bit and her cheeks redden a bit. She watches as he stands in the entry hall, looking at her things confusion written all over his pretty face.

How is she just realizing now how fucking handsome he is? She is so gone for him.

Tito turns and his eyes widen, spotting her on the couch.

“We need to talk.” She almost cringes at the way that comes out.

He kicks off his shoes and comes into the living room and sits next to her, “Yeah, I think we do.”

Her heart is in her throat and they both sit in silence before both of them blurt out, “I’m sorry!” and immediately they both smile at each other.

“You’re my best friend Tito, I just wished you would have talked to me and told me what I had done instead of pushing me away, it really hurt me, especially because I couldn’t remember that night.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I should have been honest with you. And we shouldn’t have tried to put on an act in front of our parents it wasn’t fair to either of us.”

She sighs, “It wasn’t. I don’t want things to be bad between us anymore. Not talking to my best friend has been a nightmare.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, looking at her with a soft smile, “It hasn’t been easy on me either, trust me, it hasn’t.”

“We’re best friends and we should always be honest with each other and not hold any secrets,” she takes a deep breath, biting her lip hard, before looking at him, “which brings me to my next point cause I need to tell you something-“

“-Actually I have something that I wanted to say too.” He blurts out, and both of them wait for the other to go, “you go first.”

“No no, it can wait, yours seems important.”

“Well, that’s because it is. I….actually, no you go first I insist.”

Evelyn laughs nervously, “You’re making me more nervous now,” she tries to break the tension that has suddenly filled the space, “Did you break our washing machine again?”

“No that’s not it. Ok…..well I have been doing a lot of thinking about everything, including us.”

Her breathe catches in her throat, her eyes widen, is he going to say the same thing as she is?

Tito shakes his head and with a deep sigh, “I just feel like something needs to change, so I called up the lawyer's office today and started the processing of drawing up the annulment papers.”

He starts to go on how they agreed they’d only be married for the summer anyway, and now that it was September there was no use to pretending, but Evelyn can barely hear him. She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her because she should have known, there is no way he would have feelings for her. She barely gets out an ok, when he asks. “Yeah I just think this is the best option for both of us at this time Eve, so both of us can get back to normal.

Nodding in agreement, “Yea-yeah, no totally.” She laughs to cover up the fact that her heart is breaking in her chest, “Things need to go back to the way they were.”

“And plus, it will give us both the space we need to figure things out in our own heads. I can focus on my career and you can focus on yours. Rather than providing more of a complication for both of us.”

“Again, yeah, I totally agree. We had one hell of a turbulent summer and we should be focusing on more important things. Speaking of your career though, congrats on signing for another two years, I’m so happy for you, this is your year!”

He smiles brightly and it makes her chest tighten, “I’m hoping so. We can only go one day at a time, we have a bright outlook this year! But I will definitely keep you informed when the papers are signed, they said they will try to have them done asap.”

She nearly wants to wring his neck if he mentions those damn papers one more time.

“But anyway, Eve, you said you had something you wanted to tell me? Sorry for taking that opportunity away from you earlier.”

“It’s fine.” her voice sounds so strained and she’s desperately trying to keep tears at bay. “You know, it honestly wasn’t that important, it was sort of along the lines of what you said.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrow and he stares at her intensely, “It seemed really important earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, T. I’m just glad we’re on the same page again.”

“Me too.” And he pulls her in for a hug.

Her heart clenches in her chest and she returns his hug and buries her face in his neck. They sit there for a few minutes just holding one another before Tito pulls away with a smile that Evelyn is quick to give a fake one in return.

“We good?”

“Of course, Tito, you’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine. You look tired though, want me to order take out while you take a nap?” His thumb glides against her cheekbone, stopping a stray tear.

“Sounds great, wake me when it’s ready.” She quickly gets up, giving him another fake smile before she’s rushing up to her room.

Tito stares after her as she leaves the room, his heart feels heavy, but he knows this is the best thing for them. He’d do anything to save their friendship, even if it hurts his own heart in the process, but Tito wishes he had the courage to face her and tell her the truth that he was in love with her, but he has to move on for both their sakes.

May it be that she's the one that got away when it comes to his romantic feelings because he'd rather that then never having her in his life at all.

#anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #tito beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #cswf #cant say we're friends

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princess-of-france · 5 years

Note

Also- since Love's Labour's Lost has been on the brain, and you are such a cool theatre person: dreamcast for LLL? Thank you so much!

OMFG MY FAVORITE COMEDY YES YES YES

*blows kazoo*

(Also, I’m cracking up at you thinking I’m a “cool theater person,” because I promise that’s a wonderfully accidental illusion; in reality, I’m just a cryptid who’s entire genetic makeup consists of triple-espresso lattes, Gmail push notifications, Shakespeare plays, and tears. But you’re very kind!)

Before I answer this amazing Ask, I think I should clarify that my dreamcast for LLL already exists — or, at least, it existed in 2018 — and I had the dazzling, life-affirming pleasure of seeing them perform my beloved plotless comedy at my favorite theater festival on the planet: the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

So here’s to Amanda Dennart and her IMPECCABLE Love’s Labour’s Lost:

^^^ Yes, that is King Ferdinand of Navarre, played by the once and future Daniel José Molina, meeting the Princess of France — the fabulous Alejandra Escalante — with a paper bag over his motherfucking head so that he doesn’t break his kingly oath of Not Looking At Female For 3 Years. (Fun fact: these two are now married!)

[Photo credit: Jenny Graham.]

BUT NOW TO THE MAIN EVENT:

Critically, I think LLL is a play about eight young people experiencing love for the first time and struggling to reconcile that love with their desire to be the Cleverest Person in the Room. Like so many whip-smart young people, the Crazy Eight equate cavalier carelessness with power, but the problem is: true love requires radical, wholehearted, unbearable vulnerability. It demands chaos and madness and mess and mistakes. True love asks us to be willing to look like an idiot. And most young people just aren’t ready for that, the first time it happens. It’s why the ending of this play is so goddam devastating.

And it’s why it’s so important to me that my cast list for the Crazy Eight reflects the youth, innocence, and inexperience I see baked into every one of their lines. Love has to seem like a first-time visitor to all of them. Love has to shake up their worldview like a snow globe, bowl them over, and then leave them impermeably altered. Love has to be the thing that makes them grow up.

So, with that, I am proud to present...

~THE NAVARRE NERDS~

1. KING FERDINAND OF NAVARRE — Paapa Essiedu

Love of my complete life. I don’t know if there’s a better actor with a bigger heart anywhere on earth. His Henry VI was utterly inspired, so I know he can be Kingly. Plus, he’s a passionate advocate for decolonizing Shakespeare and making classical theater accessible to all and...yeah. I adore him.

2. BEROWNE — Anthony Boyle

THIS IDIOT. I had to find a picture of him laughing, because he’s played a lot of Moody Broody Types, but OMG when he cracks a grin... Anthony is just a jewel of an actor: versatile, intense, thoughtful, emotionally articulate. He’ll keep Paapa’s Ferdie laughing, but also bring out the big guns for Berowne’s gorgeous character arc from horny cynic to lovesick wooer to chastened fool.

3. DUMAINE — Alfred Enoch

Perfect angel darling. There’s no doubt in my mind that Alfie can do Smug, Suave, Would-Be-James Bond Dumaine as well as Dorky, Clumsy, Foot-Constantly-in-Mouth Dumaine with equal flair. Also, I love him. <3

4. LONGAVILLE — George MacKay

Apparently, this sweetheart is playing Hamlet soon in the new Ophelia movie, which is HILARIOUS, because he looks like the most Innocent Innocent to ever Innocent. I suppose this is what makes him a good actor. And he is very good.

~LES FILLES~

5. PRINCESS OF FRANCE — Lily James

This goddess is always getting cast as ingenues who fall in love with their eyes and hearts wide open, which is all fine and good. But I wanna see her fall in love against her will, against her better judgment, and with stubborn denial attending her every step of the way...partly because Lily is up to the challenge, and partly because it would be precious af.

6. ROSALINE — Karla Crome

BAMF. Berowne won’t know what hit him. Karla is talented in a way most of us can only dream about, but even more importantly, she is whip-smart, self-possessed, and in love with herself. Get it, girl.

7. KATHARINE — Shay Mitchell

It’s hard to beat Shay for Sleek, Feline Intelligence. I like to imagine Katharine as the ultimate duchess: rich, spoiled, overeducated, overprivileged, dressed to the nines every minute of every day. But she carries so much pain behind the mask. Being fabulous is no substitute for losing your big sister. And I think Shay can do justice to all those layers.

8. MARIA — Francesca Mills

I had the honor of seeing Francesca in Rachel Chavkin’s epic production of American Clock at the Old Vic this past winter. In a cast of over 20 brilliant actors, she emerged as the brightest star. I have never fallen in love with an actress so quickly. Sweet, inquisitive, sassy, and smart, with a crystalline voice, Francesca is the ultimate heroine. Her Maria will be the most adorable in human history, I think.

9. BOYET — Tamsin Greig

Imho, no one does Blustery Spinster Energy better than Tamsin. (See her performance as Miss Bates in the 2009 BBC miniseries, Emma.) My favorite version of Boyet is the adult female chaperone that the Princess and her ladies gleefully dress up as a man to stymie Ferdinand’s guards. It makes 5.2 all the more giddy and revelatory, and also it just makes narrative sense. Tamsin will play the beleaguered and increasingly exasperated Wine Mom to perfection.

~THE PSEUDO-SCHOLARS~

10. DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO — Riz Ahmed

I just can’t even express how much I love Riz. He dissolves completely into every single role he plays, no matter how absurd the character may seem on paper. And that is a very pertinent qualification for playing Armado, because he has the hard-fought distinction of being the most Abjectly Batshit Character in this bonkers play. Also I just really wanna get his autograph help

11. MOTE — Kiernan Shipka

THIS GIRL. Oh man, I don’t even know where to begin. She’s so flipping good at her craft, and at such a young age!! Honestly, I’d hate her if she weren’t so damn precious. All she needs to do is learn how to do a Scottish accent and then she’ll be 100% ready to play the wee snickering Watson to Armado’s pirate-Holmes. I’ve always read Mote as Armado’s platonic life partner slash surrogate daughter. She’s probably the only person in the world who knows Armado’s social security number. (Plus, Riz is a sweetheart, so you just know they’ll become great friends!)

12. DR. HOLOFERNES — Olivia Colman

What can I say? She’ll play the broad, slapstick comic relief stock character of Il Dottore to perfection...right up until the moment she doesn’t. Then she’ll make us all sob. “This is not generous, not gentle, not humble!” (V.ii.2570)

13. NATHANIEL — Cyril Nri

Can’t you just see this angel loving the crap out of Olivia’s Holofernes?? Like, he probably built an extension onto his rectory home JUST to give the famous visiting Italian academic a place to stay during her time in Navarre. Great actor, great human, great smile. 11/10

~BELOW-STAIRS~

14. COSTARD — Andy Samberg

My only Costard. I mean, he’s the only white boy I know who could play such a cowardly fuckboi of a character without turning him into a 2-D caricature. Not to mention the fact that Andy is a spectacular improv actor, so he can invent a lot of new lines and jokes for the hallboy! Win-win!

15. JAQUENETTA — Phoebe Waller-Bridge

Because I want the oft-disregarded Jaquenetta to be the Narrator of this whole wild shebang, I need an actor who can foster a deliciously familiar, non-4th-wall relationship with the audience and/or camera. Phoebe is the undisputed Queen of this. She’ll be STELLAR. And she and Andy will make people cry from laughing so hard.

16. CONSTABLE ANTHONY DULL — Andre Braugher

I love the idea of this Juilliard-trained classical actor sitting quietly with his crossword puzzle in the back of the polished oak Navarre library, watching a group of the Dumbest Smart People in human history talking themselves into a tizzy over false Latin and prickets and excrement and bad, mis-delivered iambic hexametric sonnets and just chuckling to himself. (Also: BB99 reunion!)

17. MERCADÉ — Randall Park

Tbh, I feel bad giving such a small part to such a phenomenal actor, but the thing about Mercadé is that he is like the BIGGEST small part in all of Shakespeare. He’s right up there with the First Servant in Lear in terms of the sheer narrative punch he packs into just a few short lines. And I think the best Mercadé is the one who has a personal relationship to the Princess. Maybe he was a personal aide to her father, the King? Maybe he helped raise her? Regardless, I think their conversation at the end of 5.2 is more than just the delivery of a sad message. It’s a communion between two grieving patriots of France. I want an actor whose warm heart will shine through that brief interchange. Randall can obviously do that, tenfold.

Aaaaaaand I think that’s it! Thanks again for the Ask, Lauren!! This was an absolute treat. xx Claire

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a-walk-in-silence · 6 years

Text

Just A Dream

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You’re in the delivery room, having a baby, but something is just missing from your life. A dream helps you feel better about everything.

Warnings: Infinity War spoilers kinda?, semi-descriptions of birth, off-screen character death, cursing, family drama, bad parenting (smh Howard)

A/N: Y’all, ik it isn’t WCBB or my other writing challenge prompt but I saw Mamma Mia 2 and I fell in love with one song in particular just because the scene it happens in is so good and so tear worthy (I loved the whole show tho and all of the songs are 10/10). So thus, this song fic was born!

Key:

Y/N - Your Name

Y/N/N - Your Nickname

Y/H/C - Your Hair Color

Y/E/C - Your Eye Color

Song Inspiration(s):

My Love, My Life - Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again Cast Recording

I’ve never felt this strong

I’m invincible, how could this go wrong?

No here, here’s where we belong

You screamed in pain, clutching Steve’s hand for support. Contraction after contraction, it never seemed to end. Your forehead was drenched in sweat, plastering your Y/H/C to your face.

With is free hand, Steve pushed your hair out of your face. He was clearly flustered and so unsure of his movements. “It’s going to be okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“You try pushing a damn baby out of your fucking body, Steven Grant Rogers!” you practically screamed at him before grasping his hand as another contraction hit. You finally whimpered as it passed, your head slamming into the back of the raised bed. “I can’t do this...”

“No, no, no, you can do this.” Steve gave your hand a tight squeeze before meeting your Y/E/C eyes. “Come on, Tony wouldn’t want you to give up here. Besides, you’re so strong. You’re almost there. Come on, Y/N, you can do this.”

Gulping, you nodded despite the fact that you felt so much pain and a huge want to just give up. Still, you knew you had to do this, not just for your loving husband clutching your hand. You had to do this for Tony.

Tony...

Your brother was killed after the events of the Infinity Wars, as it would be come to dubbed in mainstream media, had come and passed. After everything had been fixed, everyone brought back from being turned to dust... your brother didn’t make it. And he never did find out about your pregnancy.

The thought of your brother, your last living blood relative, being gone made your heart swell. No, you would make it through this. You would make it through this god damn birth because, dammit, Tony wouldn’t give up... if he could ever have a child.

You laughed at your own thoughts, which seemed to make Steve relax. You looked towards your husband and nodded. “Okay... okay, I can do this.”

His lips pressed against your forehead before Steve smiled at you. “I know you can, doll. You can do this.”

I held you close to me

Felt your heart beat and I thought: I am free

Oh yes, and as one are we

In the now and beyond

Nothing and no one can break this bond

A cry filled the air as you relaxed back into the hospital bed, exhausted. “It’s a boy,” the doctor shouted over the cries of the newborn baby.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you looked over to Steve. His eyes were lit up, a huge smile tugging at his lips. A boy, your own little boy...

The small baby was placed into your arms, pulling you from your thoughts. Your voice choked on a small sob, looking at the small squirming baby. “Hello, my love.” You smiled brightly at the baby, your fatigue slowly edging away as he silently squirmed in your arms. With the baby pressed against your chest, you could feel his hammering heartbeat. You practically melted from the overwhelming joy that filled your body. “My boy...” you mused.

Steve smiled and kissed the top of your head as all six feet of him leaned down to your height to watch your baby move around in your arms. “He’s amazing,” he responded, almost as dazed as you were by the small infant.

“I want to name him Tony,” you quickly said, not even aware that the words had left your own mouth for a moment.

However, you were aware of Steve’s response to what you had assumed were your thoughts. “I think Tony is a great name,” Steve responded, holding you closely to him. “Tony James.”

Slowly, you nodded, silent tears falling from your cheeks. “Tony James Rogers. Named after his uncle, godfather, and you. It’s perfect,” you finally said to fill the silence, smiling down at the bundle. You held your son close to your chest, a small laugh escaping your throat. “Our parents would be proud, wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah, yeah they would,” he said, kissing the top of your head once more. “As annoying as Howard was, he would be proud of you.”

“Even if he never showed it.” You couldn’t help but sigh at the memory of your father. You had been young when he had gone from the world, and it still hurt. If only you had had more time with your father...

The doctor cleared his throat, once again pulling you from your train of thoughts. “We’re going to have to run some tests on little Tony, but we should be done soon. In the meanwhile, I would suggest you get some rest, Mrs. Rogers. Captain, you’re more than welcome to stay by her side.”

You handed the little bundle over to the doctor before relaxing back into the bed. “Please don’t leave me, Steve,” you murmured to your husband, relaxing into the bed.

In answer, he dragged the chair from the window over to the bed, sitting down and grabbing your hand. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you, doll.”

You smiled softly to him before finally lulling off into sleep.

Like an image passing by, my love, my life

in the mirror of your eyes, my love, my life

I can see it all so clearly

All I love so dearly

You stirred gently before lifting your head to take in your surroundings. You were no longer in the hospital room in those silly gowns. Instead, you were standing in your childhood home.

“You know what?” your father said, smirking as he leaned against the piano that was in the grand foyer. “I never thought I’d see Steve with anyone but Peg. Even if she got married to someone else. Hell, I figured he was as good as dead, but then he showed up in... 2011, right? Well, rambling aside, I have to say I’m proud that he ended up with you, even if he is some 65 years older than you.” The man who stood before you was hardly the man you grew up with, he was much younger and definitely more relaxed. He was easily in his early 30′s. Still, he was definitely still your father.

“Dad?” you asked, shocked.

“Hiya, Pumpkin.” He pulled you into a quick hug before he took the time to admire you. “You sure have grown since I last saw you. You were 9 the last time I saw you in person. And I probably looked a helluva lot different, didn’t I?” He chuckled to himself before walking over to the small bar, pouring a tumbler of whiskey. “You want a drink? Childbirth isn’t an easy thing, your mother can vouch for that. She did it, twice.”

You shook your head in answer, looking around. “Is mom here? What about Tony?”

Howard only waved his hand in dismissal. “They’ll be here soon enough.” He took a seat on the white couch, patting it for you to sit beside him. “I figured I’d show up here early and get some talk time with my girl before everyone comes to congratulate you.”

“Talk?” you questioned, sitting down where he had motioned. “Talk about what?”

“You. How much you’ve grown. You know, you were a surprise to both your mother and I. You were a last minute surprise and, given both of Maria and I’s ages at the time, a complete and utter shock.” He laughed, taking a swig from his whiskey. “But you know what? I’m damn proud of you.” You scowled in response and he only sighed. “Your brother did the same thing when I told him. I know, I’m terrible at showing it. But I am proud of you. Of both of you.”

“You didn’t have a terrible way of showing it. You had a shitty way of showing it.” You cleared your throat, fully ready to mock some of the things he had said to you as a child, when a voice interrupted both of you from speaking.

“Howard, I better not see you antagonizing the poor thing,” said the soft voice of your mother. “She just gave birth to your grandson.”

Like reflections of your mind, my love, my life

Are the words I try to find, my love, my life

Yes I know I don’t possess you

With all my heart, God bless you

You stood up and turned to see your mother and brother standing there. You wanted to act normal, like you weren’t happy to see them, but the moment your eyes landed on Tony standing there, the same as you had last seen him, your heart broke.

So, instead, you ran up to your brother and wrapped your arms around him tightly, sobbing hysterically. “Tony, you’re here...”

His strong arms wrapped around you, too, holding you tightly. “If by here you mean whatever weird dream thing this is, then yeah, okay, I’m here.”

“Anthony,” said the warning voice of your mother, but you pushed her voice to the side.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his chest. “I’m sorry I never told you about my pregnancy and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. I’m sorry, Tony... I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly, your arms were unwound from his torso as your brother held you at arms length. “Hey, none of that sorry crap. You shouldn’t have even been on the battlefield if you were pregnant, Y/N/N. Besides, I’m not sorry, especially since you named the kid after me.” He pointed a finger at your father. “You owe me money. Why the hell did you think she would name the kid after you any way?”

Howard only rolled his eyes, getting up to his feet to refill his tumbler with whiskey. Once it was filled, he turned his attention to the two of you. “I don’t owe you anything, Tony. We’re dead.”

“You made the bet, old man. Can’t pull this shit here.”

A calm hand landed on your shoulder, forcing your attention to your mother. Now she... she looked exactly as you remembered her. Her white hair was pulled back tightly in a bun, but her eyes were just as sweet as the day she left.

“My love, you need to wake up,” she said calmly, her smile soft. “Steve and Tony James are waiting for you.”

You took a step back and examined your family. Tony and Howard had finally stopped bickering and we’re giving you bright smiles. Your mother was leaning into Howard, her head resting on his shoulder. Once again, you felt tears threatening to spill

“Hey,” Tony said, pulling your eyes back to his brown ones. “Don’t cry, got it? And definitely don’t give up on my behalf. This kid needs you. You’ll see me again when you’re ready.”

“But I miss you. Why’d you have to go?” Finally, the waterworks started as tears started to stream down your face.

“Aw geez, come on, Y/N/N. What is it that Steve would say? Uh...” He racked his brain for a moment before snapping his fingers. “‘Every war has its casualties.’ Well, it sucks because it was supposed to be Pepper and I having the kid and all, but.... I suppose my nephew will have to do.” You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that was threatening to take over your face. “Doesn’t matter. I still love you, kiddo. So go on and make the world a better place, got it?”

You simply nodded, unable to find the words to answer.

But I know I don’t possess

With all my heart, God bless you

You’re my one and only

You woke up in the hospital room and glanced over at Steve, who was on the phone in the corner of the room, talking away to whoever was on the other line.

“... Yeah Sam, I know. A boy... Yes, you can see him once we’re out of the hospital.” His eyes glanced over to you, lying on the bed, and a huge smile took over his features. “Hey, I’ll call you back, Y/N’s awake.”

He hung up the phone and returned to your side. “Hey, how long was I out?”

“Only about thirty minutes.” His hand brushed along your face, pushing your hair back behind your ear. “Doc said he’d be back in a couple minutes with little Tony and your release papers.”

You hummed in response, leaning into his hand. Your mind flashed back to your dream... dream? Was that the right word? Well, whatever it was, you thought of it, and of how your family was there and how much they loved you. And Tony... Your heart broke just a little, remembering your brother.

The doctor entered the room again, your son nestled into the crook of his arm with a stack of papers wedged between his arm and the side of his body.

“This little one is for you,” he responded, handing over the baby, “as are these.” The papers went to Steve. “All of the paperwork is signed for. You’ve given birth to a healthy baby boy. You’re set to leave whenever you’re ready.”

With that, the doctor once again left. You smiled down at your son and his brilliant blue eyes. Just like Steve. “Do you think he knows how much he’s going to be loved? And how many unofficial official aunts and uncles he’ll have?”

A chuckle came from Steve as he leaned down to look at his son. “I’m sure he does. Especially since Sam’s in the waiting room with some of the others, waiting to see the little squirt.”

The two of you laughed quietly to each other before looking back at Tony. You sighed in contentment before nodding your head. “Yeah. He’s going to be loved by everyone, I can feel it.”

Tags:

@uservalkyrie @youreafangirl-harry @thedaydreamingwriter @starksparker

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans headcanon #chris evans #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america headcanon #captain america #marvel #infinity wars #avengers 4 theories #one shot #userkavvy #emmmahi

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ohscorbus · 6 years

Text

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Saturday 17th March, 2018

This was a particularly exciting show for me because it’s only the second time I’ve been able to see Tom Mackley on as Albus. Of course, for those of you who have read any of my recaps before, you’ll know all about the brilliance that is Mackley because I can’t help but gush about him at any and every opportunity. That boy is a whirlwind of talent and energy and seeing him in a lead role only confirms that.

This is a very brief recap because 1) I barely took any notes since, 2) I was really kinda ill at the time. So this is mostly just me rambling. But haven’t you all missed that?!

ACT ONE

[Scene 4] Mackley’s Albus is a lot more interactive with his bullies but I think that’s down to his relationship with his cast mates (he has been around twice as long as Theo), and the fact that his Albus is so much more confident. For example, the line ‘with just a little salamander blood’ was spoken aggressively at (not to) Karl. Then during the first task he did a ‘and what?!’ gesture at them. The difference between Theo’s ‘kicked puppy’ look and Mackley’s confrontational ‘bring it on’ approach to his bullies is fascinating. Especially since they both still end up emotionally in the same place.

[Scene 7] The difference between Mackely’s Albus and Theo’s Albus really hit me in the blanket scene. Albus is sat on his bed but with Mackley’s Albus, when James stuck his head in he chuckled to himself at his brother’s idiocy, then he mouthed a ‘no’ to Lily’s question about her book. I really liked that interaction. Even though he was sat alone in slight darkness, there was some effort to communicate with his family. All was not completely lost. Whereas Theo’s Albus has shut down right from the very beginning and ignores them all. Every time someone steps into his room it seems to pain him more. He so obviously and desperately wants to be alone but his family deny him that. It’s just intrusion after intrusion in what should be his private space. Yet both their reactions to Harry peering in the doorway is the same. It’s instant, the way the shutters come down and he closes off. Everything about Albus screams guarded yet Harry approaches him regardless.

[Scene 10] Albus got down on one knee as he spoke to Scorpius (who was sat on the suitcase) as he tried to convince him this was a good idea. I for one, thought it was a good idea. As were the repeated knee grabs and thigh pats but you know...

ACT TWO

[Scene 4] I don’t even know how to describe this half dance, half wiggle thing Albus did when he was saying wizzo. There was a lot of hip action there and it went on long enough to feel awkward. Which is exactly what Albus flirting with Delphi should feel like. Delphi definitely seemed to think that. I was kinda hoping Samuel would come on and do the same thing since he does re-enact whatever Albus and Delphi do, but no. Shame.

[Scene 5] So sometimes I’ll hear a line differently for no apparent reason and today it was the ‘seen him in the movements of the stars’ line. This is a jumbled mess that makes no sense but welcome to my brain. Feel free to try and make sense of this! Anyway, it made me think about stars. Harry feels like he’s losing his son because he’s all tangled up with Scorpius, a Malfoy. You know what Malfoys are all named after? Constellations. Stars. Then there’s Albus’s name which means light/white/bright, just like a star in the night sky. They’re all stars. Stars which look close but are actually billions of miles away. They’re unreachable. Which is exactly how Harry feels Albus is during the majority of this play. Now I know Bane is talking about actual star movements here but it made me think about Albus associating with Malfoys, moving in their circle, because that’s where he wants to be. With Scorpius Malfoy. Not his dad. Harry can see this and he can’t stop it or join in or whatever he wants to do. Albus won’t let him in. It’s that distance again. So close yet so far. Visually, it reminded me of the very beginning of this scene where Harry is walking through the Forbidden Forest in the dark with only these tiny pinpricks of light coming from the wands around him. You know what they look like? Yup, you’ve guessed it... stars! I just thought the whole thing was super interesting even though I haven’t got it all figured out yet. I just thought visually it was cool because I really like stars so I was distracted by it for the rest of this scene. I couldn’t stop thinking about Harry walking through the darkness surrounded by these tiny stars and still not being able to see his son clearly even though he’s right there in the forest with him. Just... stars!!! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[Scene 16] Scorpius was so incredibly angry in the library scene today. The tears were streaming down his face and I was not okay. Samuel Blenkin really is something else.

[Scene 16] “…but never fell in love - never got married - never had Rose” - The last few times I’ve seen this play the ‘never had Rose’ part has got a laugh from the audience and I can’t figure out why??? Scorpius is frustrated and crying and yet people keep laughing whenever he mentions Rose. I mean, this probably sounds weird coming from someone who blatantly ships Scorbus but Scorpius is distraught about this entire situation. Whether he’s in love with her or not, she’s disappeared from existence and it’s his fault. The poor boy is crying and please please please someone explain to me why this is funny. I don’t get it. (Or maybe I’m just too emotionally attached to this boy. My heart breaks every time his does.)

[Scene 16] So during the Hogwarts through the trees scene, the boys do their special handshake thing. It’s basically a fist bump with a thumbs up and they make their thumbs touch. It’s sweet. (I’ve seen them even turn it into a mini thumb war before. Such nerds.) Today they did it after their argument in the library too and I haven’t seen them do it there before! I loved it. You could tell they had properly made up once they did that. Everything was right with them again because even though the world had changed, this hadn’t. They still had each other and their silly handshake and knowing that now definitely gave them the confidence to go on. They’re together, they can fix this.

[Scene 16] The hug in library after their argument was the best. Albus hugged Scorpius so hard, and despite being shorter, managed to completely lift him off the floor. Imagine it though, a tiny Albus so happy at having his best friend back that he literally picks him up off the floor.

[Scene 20] Scorpius does this thing where he looks down at his hands in horror when Albus says his dad is investigating the rumours, and he does it again while Umbridge is speaking to him when he gets out of the lake. I really love this gesture. It’s like he’s thinking maybe the rumours are true because look at what he’s done. These hands held and used the Time Tuner that re-wrote time and killed people. Harry Potter, Albus, Rose… they’re all gone and the people who are left are suffering and it’s his fault. You can see it on his face. The initial, ‘I did this with my bare hands’, to the ‘who am I? To have done all of this?’ : (

ACT THREE

[Scene 3] After Draco had pushed Scorpius off his desk and away, he saw his son’s tears still on the desk and he wiped them away before continuing. Let me just repeat that. Samuel cried so much he left tears all over the paperwork on Draco’s desk and James H had to brush them away. You see, this is why Samuel and James are the perfect Scorpius and Draco to me. Samuel putting his all into every performance, and James using that find new ways of destroying us. (It doesn’t beat the time he wiped them directly off his cheek with his thumb though. That one still hurts.)

[Scene 7] “You’re constantly surprised by it” - I’ve not seen Samuel have to wait that long for the laughter to die down before he could say this particular line before. You always know when it’s a good audience when something like this happens. Bless Samuel. He radiates happiness whenever he gets that big of a positive reaction. I hope he knows he deserves it. That boy is spectacular ♥︎

ACT FOUR

[Scene 1] This might sound a bit weird but I’m mesmerised by Draco’s hands at the moment. They’re so rarely still. It reminds me of Anthony’s Scorpius a bit, but less obvious. Like he’s grown up and refined his fidgeting, you know? As if he’s condensed it all down into his fingers. But anyway, Draco is always rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. It looks like an anxiety or a nervous thing. I couldn’t figure out why at first but then it kinda made sense and now I adore it because it makes him human. He looks so much like his dad, he’s exactly what you’d imagine a Malfoy to be. But he isn’t any Malfoy, he’s Draco. He’s just lost his wife, his son is suffering, he’s been thrown back into the madness that is Harry Potter’s life after years of being hidden away. It’s enough to make anyone crack. Yet he stands there with his fancy ponytail and stiff robes and he doesn’t. To me, the hand thing is a tiny insight into Draco and how not okay he’s really feeling inside. It’s also interesting because he doesn’t break, he can’t. Not while there’s still hope. He’s got Scorpius to worry about and he always comes first. It’s like when after he hugs him in Godric’s Hollow, he always zips his son’s jacket up higher even though Scorpius already has it zipped up to the top almost. (Sometimes it isn’t and he tells him off or gives him this look and Scorpius does it instantly. It’s so incredibly sweet. It’s clearly a battle Draco has been fighting since Scorpius was a child and first figured out how to undo a zip.) He’s focusing on Scorpius’s safety and comfort while everyone else around him talks about Delphi. He struggles to let go and barely looks away. Even once they’re not hugging anymore he still looks for a reason to reach out for him. Scorpius is Draco’s world. But anyway, I really love the hand thing and the point I was trying to make by mentioning all that was the fact that during the second Extraordinary General Meeting, when Harry says most people in this room won’t exist anymore if Delphi succeeds, Draco stills. His hand freezes because he knows he’s not one of them. He’ll still be around and in a much better position. Well, job wise. He still won’t have his wife and worst of all, he’ll lose his Scorpius. The boy who loves sweets and does extra homework for fun. Instead the Scorpion King will exist. That’s what the world will think his son is. He can’t let that happen…

[Scene 3] Albus ran up to Bathilda Bagshot’s door and started worshipping it like the absolute geek that he is. These two history fanboys bring me so much joy. Why can’t we be friends?!

[Scene 5] Godric’s Hollow was a mixture of excitable running, synchronised jumping, and exaggerated finger guns. Real talk, if that’s what they’re like trapped in time with no help, shelter, food, or proper clothing for a snowy October night, then I’m amazed that Hogwarts is still standing after those two go on a sugar binge. Poor McGonagall. Oh and for the ‘get potioning’ line they pretended they had a cauldron under their arm and motioned stirring it. Seriously, nerds.

[Scene 11] It’s really interesting to be able to sit in different seats at different angles and on different levels when you watch this show. It’s amazing what a change in perspective will make you notice. Today I was sat towards the end of the row in the stalls so I ended up directly behind Albus when he says, “but she’s a murderer - I’ve seen her murder”, to his dad. I couldn’t see his face, just his back. It was interesting because without his facial expression I had to rely on his body language and boy, did that scream just as loudly as he did. His wand was in his pocket and he ripped it out and started towards Delphi as he shouted. There was so much aggression and anger exploding out of him at that point. I don’t know if grabbing his wand is something Mackley regularly does (Theo already has it in his hand so it never comes across as threatening quite like that), but it really made me stop and think and feel for this boy. He couldn’t realistically take on Delphi (he hesitated before and then Harry kept him hidden behind his back during the rest of the duel) but the frustration drives him to want to do something.

[Scene 12] After Voldemort has killed Lily, everyone stills and falls silent. On stage and in the audience. It’s a really powerful scene. So usually, Harry drops to the floor once that last Avada Kedavra rings out across the theatre. He just breaks, completely and utterly, in his families arms. Albus never leaves his side and he (quite literally) supports his dad in what little way he can. He knows he can’t reach Harry in that moment. He’s lost in his pain. The loss of his parents, him standing there and letting it happen. But he tries. He lets Harry grip onto him (almost painfully sometimes) and Albus holds him back equally as fierce. It’s so different from the last few hours where we’ve seen him purposefully dodge every single one of his dad’s attempts at physical contact. But today, Harry dropped to the floor and Albus lost his grip on him. He looked horrified as he watched his dad scream out in pain from the floor. It was like it hit him, like he finally understood what his dad went through. What being Harry Potter meant. It wasn’t all gratitude and attention. It was this. The suffering and the countless deaths. The feeling of absolute uselessness as they stood there unable to stop it. Now Albus has experienced that I think he understands it more. (That’s not to say he didn’t before, but he’s fourteen and that’s a lot to process. But I think seeing someone die in front of you and believing it’s your fault, and watching your best friend grieve the loss of his mother, will change his perspective on things.) The look on Albus’s face as he looked down at the crumpled mess of his dad will stay with me for quite some time. Just like seeing his dad like that will stay with Albus too. I’m sure it plays a significant part in the healing process of their relationship.

[Scene 14] Albus booped Scorpius on the top of his head while he was stood on the step above him. I love the idea of Albus revelling in being taller than Scorpius for once. Even if it is just for a moment. It also makes me wonder if Scorpius does it to Albus on a regular basis and this was all part of his revenge. Scorbus banter at its finest, clearly :’)

[Scene 14] “And she said noooo” - Albus tipped his head back and held out his arms and sang the word no. I loved it. It’s such a Scorpius thing to do and yet here Albus is, teasing him with it instead. This scene is definitely one of my favourites. You get a lovely insight into what an average day at Hogwarts is like for these two. It’s all playful silliness. I’m glad the last scene we get of these two if just them being happy together.

#harry potter and the cursed child #cursed child play #TCCleanne

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