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shoyudon · 4 months

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dad!choso is on my mind. he’d be the sweetest husband/father to-be. i just know he’d hold our hand the entire time and say things like “i wish i could take this pain away from you.”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 .ᐟ

keeping up with the choso family

starring. choso x fem! reader

heads up. pregnancy, giving birth, you're in you're 20s during shibuya (around nanami's age), all information are from research.

note. NONNIE, FIRST OF ALL YES. I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS??? i just know he'd cry during every one of these moments, i'm gonna sob, i miss him so much.

the first time choso met you, he didn't know you'd be his life companion. pushing aside at the fact that you both were enemies at first, being a jujutsu sorcerer assigned to shibuya wasn't really the best circumstances for first meetings — which practically didn't happen smoothly.

long story short, he actually hurts you with his blood manipulation. not enough to kill you, but enough to consider it a 'medical emergency'. he is really sorry about it though; when he saw you protect yuuji despite your injuries, he just knew he had to have you.

choso made it clear that he regretted hurting you — especially when his technique left a scar on your skin. specifically on your shoulder, and your lower abdomen. occasionally pressing his lips onto your scars, the vivid drawings of your stitches still embedded into your skin.

"'m sorry . . ." choso whispers out into your skin, burying his face into your stomach as you both lay down on the bed. once again, he was feeling apologetic for hurting you more than a year ago. every day after shibuya, he was busy apologizing to you for hurting you.

"cho, that was what . . ? more than a year ago? you need to stop apologizing, baby," raking your fingers through his hair, he sighs out in content, leaning his cheek onto your stomach — his arms draped around your thighs.

when he asks you to marry him, he subconsciously did it because he panicked. choso had it all planned for a whole month, and managed to ruin it in three minutes on the day he was going to propose to you because you were just so captivating, he just lost all senses of everything he practiced.

"please, marry me," choso blurts out, his mind going one hundred miles per second — he wasn't even sure if he was conscious at that point, "i love you so much and i can't think of my life without you, please marry me," he whispers, squeezing your hand gently.

choso actually got help from everyone on what to say and what to do, which all went down to drain when he decided to use his heart to propose to you. and it worked out well anyways, "seriously? i'm gonna cry," you fanned your eyes.

believe me when i said that choso was on the edge of his seat, waiting for your answer. when you exclaimed out a happy and tearful, "yes!", he could finally breathe out in relief, raising your hand up to his lips in happiness, slipping the ring he even forgot for a second.

choso actually told himself that he wouldn't cry during his own wedding. months before the reception — he finds himself watching wedding videos and happily kicking his feet at the sight of the groom crying, he believed he wouldn't, because he's seen you everyday. right? right?

wrong. the moment the tall doors opened and there you started walking down the aisle slowly, choso felt overwhelmed at the fact that he was getting married to you, and you were getting married to him. he swore if it wasn't for yuuji, he would be laying down in front of the whole guest list, crying on the ground.

he stood there, instinctively wiping his tears — that were never-ending, and god, you looked so beautiful that all he could see was you. choso felt like it was just you and him at that moment, no guest, no yuuji, just you.

after the ceremony, choso just wanted to go back home and if it weren't for you telling him to wait until everyone goes home, he'd technically kidnap his own wife and bring her back to their home. with a pout and a long face, he greets the guest with you, hand in yours like a little child who didn't get what they want.

"can we go back home now? my legs are killing me," he whispers, squeezing your hand, tugging you towards him, "jus' leave them, they're eating the night away . . ."

"let's wait until everyone goes home, okay?" you tell him. almost wanting to laugh at the sight of his fake offended gasp right after, choso didn't complain anyways — nodding his head as you tugged him towards a group of people to greet them.

when you both got home after a long day, choso immediately headed for the bedroom, tossing himself onto the bed, white shirt wrinkled and his tie messily pulled towards one side. eyelids half closed.

"cho, you know you have to shower before you sleep. you stink."

"mmm . . . wanna sleep," he moans out into the pillow, reaching his hand out to you in an attempt to bring you onto the bed, which did not work since you were too busy wiping off your makeup, "can't we just shower tomorrow? 'm so tired."

choso's never really thought about having kids. he didn't know how to take care of kids, nor how to react with kids. for some reason, the universe though — seemed to have bless him with a wave of "baby fever" one and a half year into the marriage. watching videos of random babies from all over the world doing baby things, and he felt his heart flutter at the sight.

that was when he knew, he wanted a family with you. technically, the two of you were already a family the moment you both got married — but he wanted an addition to your small family. a child.

he didn't really know how to break the fact that he wanted a baby with you, and so he tried subtle ways to do so. showing you baby videos, telling you how cute your kids would be, even pointing at baby shoes or onesies when you both go out.

by that point, you'd caught on to his little scheme, "why're you talking about kids a lot? baby shoes, baby onesies, baby videos, baby this, baby that," you informed him, threading your fingers through his hair as he laid his head on your lap.

"wan' a baby."

so when you broke the news that you were bearing his child, he cried. and by cry — i mean bawled out like a baby. clinging to you, overwhelmed at the fact that he was going to have a child with you, he was actually going to have a little family of his own.

just a few days after the news, he'd grown a lot more protective of your wellbeing. asking here and there about what you could and couldn't eat, or what might harm the growing baby inside you. searching here and there.

during your first trimester, more precisely, during your fifth week; the cravings began getting heavy and wonky. despite all that, choso still indulged in your cravings. hell, he even had to try some because he couldn't say no to you when you tried to share with him.

peanut butter and salmon sashimi, pickle juice with honey, cream cheese and fried chicken, ramen soup popsicles, bacon and toothpaste, milk and ramen seasoning, and more of those odd combinations. choso never did complain even once, if you wanted to eat something at three am, he'd run out and go find some no matter what — you were carrying his child, and he figured that was the least he could do for you.

"taste good, baby?" choso asks you, swiping his fingertips over the cream cheese spread on the corner of your lips.

nodding vigorously, you brought the half-eaten fried chicken messily dipped in the thick and white cream cheese spread — eyes shining brightly, as if asking him to try some with you. blinking in surprise, he took a bite. definitely a weird experience for him, and it was one of the oddest combination of food he had ever tried.

"'ts funny, but it's not bad," he swallowed after chewing the chicken a few times; reaching for the glass of water by the nightstand.

throughout your pregnancy, choso made sure to spoil you with a lot of things. the doll you looked at for a split second while the both of you ventured into the mall, the food he sees you browsing through his phone or your phone, tucking you in bed using the pillow he bought for pregnant women, and the feet massages for you everyday.

"where are you going?" choso asks, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. the dark spots under his eyes were getting darker every time — it was obvious the changes in his life had made it, but choso was more than enlightened to do it for you.

"want to drink," you whisper, letting out a cute incoherent noise as you tried to roll off the mattress.

choso was quick to hold you back, tucking you inside the bundle of covers, "i'll get it for you, stay here, okay?" he whispers, hopping off the bed to fetch you a glass of water — choso didn't want to keep you waiting, running off to the kitchen and fetching you a glass of water topped with a lot of ice cubes; something he noticed you'd chew on a lot ever since you got pregnant.

"here you go," he walks back carefully, handing you the water, pinching the skin on your nap gently as he watches you gobble the water down, parting your lips to pop in an ice cube or two.

nearing your due date, specifically just a few days after the 37th week — the contractions started. it was the ninth month, and it was expected. choso heard your hushed whimpers in his sleep, he would probably guess it was at dawn, probably around four? he didn't even bother checking on the time because all he cared was you.

he was barely awake, kicking off the covers and helping you. ushering you to slowly breathe in and out, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the hollow of your back. choso figured that he wanted you and the unborn child to be safe, and so he decided to bring you to the hospital where the experts are.

choso was worried beyond anyone else; even you. constantly staying by your side, his hair disheveled; a few strands going the opposite way, and tangled with each other. he laid his head down on the mattress, by your hand. choso laid his hand on your belly, rubbing against the cloth gently to ease the pain from the contractions.

at the early stage of labor, you were feeling cramps and an intense backache — which choso helped you through. he was glad he brought you to the hospital because not long after, your water broke. and he was there to help you through it all, clutching onto your hand as if he was holding on for dear life.

everything that the doctors or the nurses do, he felt his heart beat a notch quicker than earlier. choso was afraid, and he wasn't really afraid to admit it — i mean, you're his wife and you were carrying his child. he didn't want anything to happen to the both of you.

choso heard the doctor explain to him about what was going to happen, but everything that came in from his left ear exits through his right. he could barely remember anything because through out the explanation, he was too busy caring for you throughout the contractions that had grew a bit more intense during your active labor.

he hated everything inside the delivery room. it smelt like blood — choso was used to blood. but he didn't like it when it came from you, his heart drumming against his chest as he felt your grip tightened on his hand. frankly, he could care less if he broke a few bones as long as you and the baby were both okay.

choso hated seeing you in pain, even while delivering his baby. he didn't blame the baby, of course; he just wishes he could do something and take away the pain from you, latching his lips onto your sweat painted forehead. salty. he could taste your sweat against his lips, and despite that, he still refused to move.

"wish i could jus' take away the pain away from you, y/n," he whispers — hearing your pained grunt, your eyes glazed with fresh tears. and he kissed them away, whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

telling you it was just a bit more until you could see your baby, how proud he is of you, how much he loves you, how much he wished he could take away your pain, everything he felt in his heart at that moment all poured out into hushed whispers.

when the first cry of your baby echoed inside the rowdy delivery room, choso cried. he looked down at you, cradling your face in his hands, singing out, "good job, good job. 'm so proud of you, i love you so much."

the baby's a beautiful baby boy.

choso didn't want to hold the baby first as much as he wanted to — he felt like you deserved to touch the baby first after risking your life to birth him. and so he told the nurse to let you at least see the baby first, he refused to carry his son until you, his wife, touched him first; whether using your hands or any part of your body.

he stared in awe when the baby's loud cry eventually stopped when the nurse brought him to you, letting you coo at your own newborn son. his tears freely dropping, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand.

when the nurse asked him to have skin-to-skin contact, choso was nervous. what if he dropped his son? what if his son doesn't like him? what if his son doesn't like the way his skin feels? so many out of the box questions that didn't need to be answered were roaming in his mind.

as he slowly cradled his son, he blinked back the second round of tears that had threatened to fall. the light blue beanie stuck to his son's head seeped with a few drops of tears, leaning down to press his lips onto the baby's skin a few times. introducing himself as the baby's father and how happy he is to be one,

daichi l/n. that's the baby's name — it meant great first son. the both of you felt that it was a suitable name for your first baby.

choso slept on the small couch inside the hospital room during your healing week, in the middle of both you and him was daichi's small basinet where he slept soundly. he made sure to knock himself awake every now and then to check after both you and daichi.

when the hospital permitted you to go home, you completely relied on choso on heavy things — which you didn't even have to ask, he was already doing it for you. daichi gets a bit fussy at night, and choso always tells you to go back to sleep and that he'd handle the baby.

"you know, you're really noisy, right? mama's really worried about you," he gently poked the baby's cheek with his thumb as he cradled the small bundle of life affectionately, singing out a lullaby he remembered you singing to him years ago.

choso never knew he had a knack on changing diapers until you were occupied, and he had to change daichi's diaper. turns out he was really good at it, and from that day on — he's also told you that he got it. your body was still sore from delivery, and so everything around the house was mostly done by choso under your watch.

although choso's been the one taking care of daichi, he could definitely see how much the baby's turning out to be a big mama's boy even at a few months old. he noticed how daichi would only let you burp him, or sometimes daichi would get fussy when he felt choso raising him up during early mornings until you had to do it.

he didn't care. he wasn't jealous, daichi's still his son and he was glad that daichi loved you a little more than him. he'd like it if his baby prioritizes you first before him.

being a father is a great wonder to him. daichi's first word being 'mama', and his first steps was done while he was sauntering clumsily towards you. choso is such a proud father.

growing up, daichi turned out to be a big mama's boy. but still he loved choso too. now daichi lets choso carries him during mornings, and he relies on choso when something scares him while clutching onto your hand, taking small steps to hide behind choso. using his own father as a shield for him and you.

"don't worry, baby. 's just a lion in the screen, dada will protect us," you scooped the boy into your arms, pointing at the screen where a lion and its cub are walking.

"mmm. dada will protect you both," choso chimes in, ruffling daichi's thin hair.

daichi grew up loving boxing. you didn't know how he knows about it, but at the very next second, he was pestering choso to teach him boxing. and choso dreaded this because what was his son going to do at four years of age in pre-school with boxing? was he going to use it on his teachers? or his friends?

"no . . . maybe when you're older," choso's always said that, patting daichi's head as he does.

daichi whined every single time, but managed to forget when he saw some people drawing on TV. choso once again being a victim of his own son's pleading for some drawing lessons. as a father, choso of course accompanied daichi during his draw sessions in the living room right after the kid comes back from pre-school.

sometimes choso would draw too, having a little competition with his own son. which daichi mostly won — but at the same time, choso never complained about his loss. he was always proud of daichi.

"look, look mama! this is you, this is daichi, and this is dada!" daichi announces, pointing at every aspect of his drawing, explaining to you.

and to the fridge the drawing goes.

when daichi graduated pre-school, choso again, cried. taking pictures using the camera he had asked you to teach him how beforehand, and the pictures weren't the nicest. most of them being a blur of daichi walking down the stage with his small cap, waving his little hand to the camera.

choso was so proud of his son, of you, of himself. looking back— he's realized how far he had come despite not having to expect all of this. a loving wife. a son. a family.

choso was just glad he had his own little family now with you and his son. although . . . he wouldn't mind having another addition to the small community.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #choso #choso x reader #choso x female reader #choso x y/n #choso fluff #choso kamo #choso kamo fluff

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amostimprobabledream · 3 months

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You know, I know people like to meme on Homelander like "bro is beefing with a baby haha", but with S4 Ep4 revealing more context to his backstory, it's really not surprising and adds an extra tragic layer. (Note this isn't excusing him, it's just a little analysis.)

We already know early on that Homelander's childhood is a public fabrication and that he was raised as a lab rat, with Vogelbaum being his primary father figure. Despite raising John from birth, though, Vogelbaum has never seen him as a son or even a child - he's a product, an experiment that needs to be managed. Every day, Vogelbaum would go to work, do experiments on Homelander with his team of scientists, Stan Edgar, Barbara, and then go home and play happy families. Billy Butcher manages to get Vogelbaum to give him intel on Homelander specifically by threatening to hurt Vogelbaum's daughter if he doesn't comply. Once again, Vogelbaum puts his biological child over the one he spent most of his time with, and doesn't bother warning him or Madelyn of what's coming.

We also know now that the scientists who tortured him also had families - Frank is forced to go in the oven because Homelander overtly threatens to burn them too if he doesn't. We don't know about Marty or Barbara but it's easy to assume they do too. But none of them thought anything of sticking a little boy in an oven or testing nuclear weapons on him.

Then you have Madelyn. And we don't know exactly how long they've known each other, but it seems like it must be a long time for Madelyn to be in the position she is in Vought and by how well she knows Homelander. She's the closest thing to a mother figure he's ever had, and his unofficial handler/mentor. Whatever Madelyn thinks of him, Homelander is close to her.

And then Madelyn gets pregnant.

Something that always stuck out to me in Season One was when Homelander comments that Madelyn's baby is just a prop to make her feel like a good person. This always seemed like a really astute and oddly specific, personal observation, because mostly Homelander seemed pretty selective with Madelyn's unsavoury qualities until she lies about something too major for him to ignore anymore. But it does seem, to me, that he was right - whether Madelyn felt genuine love for Teddy or not, it does seem like these scientists and other people who work at Vought use their loved ones to convince themselves that they aren't really bad people - look, they have a good relationship with their kids! They're happily married! Yes, they experimented on a child, but that was just a job. It's what he was made for. But that's not who they really are, right? In particular, Madelyn's determination to make Teddy breastfeed from her seemed less because it was what's best for him, health-wise, and more because she saw it as something she was failing at as a mother so early on, and because she wasn't happy about her motherhood plans being derailed by her baby's refusal to comply with them. I feel like down the line, Madelyn would have probably ended up being emotionally abusive or at least extremely manipulative as a mother - loving your child and being a controlling parent aren't mutually exclusive, after all.

Vogelbaum's affection for his daughter doesn't change what an awful person he is. Stan Edgar adopting and grooming Victoria into being, well, Victoria, doesn't mean he isn't a sociopath - he's fond of Victoria because she's a successful project he raised. He still fucked her up and turned her into a serial killer and Victoria has now demonstrated she's willing to violate Zoe's bodily autonomy if she thinks it's necessary (or rather, convinces herself it is.) Frank was a family man 'just doing his job', but that didn't save him from Homelander's wrath. Did their families know about the atrocities they were committing? If they didn't, would they be able to look at them the same way?

So no wonder Homelander hates Madelyn's baby - he finally had a parental figure in his life who didn't have a family taking away what he saw as the love and attention he deserved like Vogelbaum did, and then she goes and has a baby anyway, and once again, someone else is receiving all the affection and care that Homelander has never, ever been given by anyone.

tl;dr: Homelander hating Madelyn's baby makes perfect sense and makes me sad. EDIT: If I've made a some mistakes in this post it's because I haven't watched S1 & 2 in a while so my recollection is a bit fuzzy, excuse me for that lol.

#Homelander #Meta #Character analysis #The Boys (2019)#Madelyn Stillwell #Jonah Vogelbaum #Stan Edgar

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captain-mj · 1 year

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Swan Maiden Graves? Maybe them stealing the feathers or him interacting with Price while they have his feathers and just being mainly an annoyance knowing he can't do anything to stop them but wanting to make it clear he is here against his will. For the moment at least (bonus if they try to convince him that this is the right thing and he points out that whether or not that's true using his feathers to make him do it isn't)

Love it, absolutely! Shoutout to the other people that asked for this, sorry I took so long

However, I am finally giving the people what they want. A longer PriceGraves specific work

Price had noticed something off about Graves. Not anything extremely noticeable. He wasn't a selkie like Soap. Or a Lechuza like Rodolfo. Couldn't possibly be a changeling like Ghost. Which meant he wasn't anything Price was familiar with.

Price knew a lot of different creatures. He was one himself, as he was reminded by the fact that he had to shift and groom his excessive amount of feathers from his molt he was dealing with.

But Graves was clearly something. Like the rest of his team, he avoided iron. He didn't care about salt though. Something about the way he moved was unnatural. It wasn't that mythical creatures inherently moved faster or somehow better than humans. Price considered that both cocky on most monsters parts, but also extremely ignorant of humans. However, most monsters did move differently. And Graves moved with an unearthly grace. A softness to the way he moved that was hard to describe. Sometimes, Price while stalking the base, had seen him swaying in one place. Headphones in playing classical music. There was a shimmy to the way he moved. An unearthly and ethereal pattern. Sunlight in the wind.

During Graves’s betrayal, he volunteered to clean out his room. The Shadows had all slept in the barracks, but Graves had requested his own room. He apparently had been extremely insisted on it and Alejandro had come to an agreement with him about it.

Price found what he was looking for immediately. He hadn’t been sure what he was expecting, but when he found the last drawer locked, he knew it would be in there. With no key and no real reason to bother lock picking, he just broke it and pulled it out.

“Oh…”

The garment was gorgeous. It looked a bit like a coat but when he lifted it from the drawer, he could see that it was just feathers. Dozens of them that when worn by the person, would look exactly like wings. The only thing connecting them were thin silvery strands of something that resembled spider silk.

The sleeves were small though. He wondered how Graves managed to wear it.

If the fact that it was locked away, clearly made with magic, or even that the item looked sacred, the screaming that lit through his psyche would’ve. His very soul felt the distress and hate and worry from Graves as he realized, wherever he was, that Price had this.

Price got up and found Alejandro. “Graves will be here soon and he won’t be a threat. Tell your men to hold fire for me.”

Alejandro looked at the feathers in his hand. It was clear there was something lingering in his gaze. A pained guilt that was immediately shoved down.

Alejandro was a good guy. Taking advantage of something like this, even if Price was entirely sure what it meant, if it was similar to a selkies coat or something else, was considered a no-no to anyone decent. But sometimes, things like this had to be set aside. Graves would never come in willingly.

Price would give him an opportunity to explain himself first and come around, but if needed, well. Price had do things sometimes. Somethings he wasn’t proud of. But its war.

He sat outside and waited. And waited.

Sure enough, Graves appeared. His arm had tons of bandages, probably from the fire. Price assumed magic was the only reason he survived the tank explosion. If he was even in the tank at all.

Graves looked at him and then the feathers in his hand and then him again. He shivered and looked at it, his breathing coming in faster. “I…

“You need it, I’m assuming?”

“Please… John.”

“I’m sorry.” Price interrupted him. “But I can’t do that. I’m going to be holding this until further notice.” He tightened his grip and Graves fell to his knees. At first, he thought it was to beg but Graves’s soft cry broke that thought. It was pain making him sink to the ground and pain that made him look at Price with giant, wet eyes.

Price stared at him for a long minute before tilting his head. “Does it hurt you?” That was new. Soap’s coat had gotten a rip in it and he just sewed it up. Explained that it would hurt to put it on but it would heal like normal skin. That had honestly been a bit nauseating to learn.

“Yes. Please, don’t. I’ll take a bullet. I’ll let you torture me. I’ll… fuck… I’ll give you information. Just don’t…”

Price bent one of the feathers, watching Graves bit his hand to keep from screaming. He stopped immediately. “Alright. Just testing it is all. Phillip,” he’d think Graves’s indignant face at his first name was cute if not for the situation, “you understand what Shepherd ordered you to do was wrong right? Did he have something over you? Did he know about this?”

“No. He didn’t know about my feathers. And I was doing my job as I was ordered to do it.” Graves glared at him. “Want to complain about right and wrong so much while forcing me to help. Isn’t what you’re doing wrong?”

“You murdered so ma-”

“I’m a mercenary. I’m not a soldier. I was given a job and I did it.”

“And what did it cost you?” Price growled at him. How could he just not care? How could he pretend what he was doing was okay? Lots of soldiers did things while following orders they weren’t proud of but…

Graves looked pained again, but for different reasons. “All my fucking men. That’s what. Gave the survivors all the money I had and they left. Can’t blame them either.” He went to get up before pausing, looking at Price’s tight grip on his feathers.

Price nodded. “I’ll ask they’re pardoned. Don’t know their names anyway. No point looking for them.”

Graves nodded. “Thank you.” He got up this time.

“Now, we’re going inside. You’re going to tell everyone what you are.”

“No.” Graves shook his head before wincing. Price didn’t do anything. It felt dirty.

“Yes, you will Commander. They need to know you’re not a threat.”

“Listen, you’re human you don’t ge-”

“I’m not human.” Price stopped him.

Graves paused. “What?”

“I am not human.” Price repeated himself. “Never claimed to be.”

“Your team…”

“Mostly not human either. I’m sure a few of my team will actually be upset about this. Now, what’s the name for you?”

Graves flushed and looked away. “We don’t have a name. The closest thing is the Swan Maiden from fairy tales. For obvious reasons, we don’t go by that term.”

“You shapeshift into a swan, yes?”

“Yep.”

“We’ll take the easy route. Call you a swan shifter. Explain the feathers are part of you.”

Graves nodded. “And when do I get them back?”

“When Shepherd is dead.” Price got up, ignoring Graves’s protest.

No one was awake at this. At some point, it had gotten dark. He’d make Graves spill his guts tomorrow then.

Fuck. Sleeping arrangements. Usually he was good. Able to predict everything. But the past few hours had been mostly revolving around getting his hands around Graves’s throat and wringing it like he was an actual fucking bird.

He left him tied up in a containment cell for the night.

“Fuck you Price.”

“Night Graves.”

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #John Price #Captain John Price #Price x Graves #Graves x Price #graves #cod graves #price mw2 #cod price #captain price

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iwonderwh0 · 1 year

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I can't let it go, so here's another scene of pocket ghost that I managed to put together. This one is out of context and doesn't follow any previous scene in specific, at least for now

The chicken sandwich felt too dry for Hank's taste, but after the five hours it took for him to admit his hunger, he didn't mind it as much. Although he couldn't appreciate it at the moment, now that they were miles away from any stores or drive-thus, surrounded by apartment blocks, he couldn't help but felt grateful that Connor had slipped it into his breakfast takeaway order for the day -- two donuts and a cup of coffee -- nearly eight hours ago.

The two of them -- well, technically only Hank -- were in a car, with two eyes and one dashcam fixed on the entrance of one of the grey buildings, waiting for any action that didn't seem to follow. Given the number of apartments in the building, one might expect the front door to open much more often than it actually did. Perhaps not many people lived in there after all; most of those apartments must still have been empty since the evacuation of Detroit, even though the order had been lifted months ago.

"Hank?" Connor said, breaking the silence of the past minutes.

Hank hummed questioning in response.

"There's some small animal ahead, but I can't identify which one it is."

Hank glanced at his dashcam for a moment before looking ahead, and indeed, a white cat walked on a parking lot, then stopped and lay down in the middle of it, enjoying the warmth of spring sun.

"Ah, this. It's a cat," Hank said.

"A cat," Connor echoed, "I've never seen a cat."

Hank's eyes travelled back. The cat lifted one of its back paws, tongue darting across white fur in a lazy-paced grooming session.

"Really? I thought you saw one when you hacked into my neighbour's house."

"I'm not sure if it was really a cat, the video quality wasn't exactly sharp," he paused, "Do you like cats?"

"I'm more of a dog person, you know," Hank bit into the sandwich, watching as cat stopped cleaning itself and stared blankly into the space.

"But do you like cats?"

"Everyone does," Hank shrugged, "Hell, If I woke up in a thousand years and someone asked me what's going on in the world, I'd answer that humanity is still worshiping cats - it's one of the things that never change," he said. Then he added, "Of course, that's if there's anyone left in a thousand years."

"Why don't you have a cat yourself? If you like them."

"I wanted an animal that would at the really least like me back. Can't expect the same indulgence from a cat," Hank grunted, "That reminds me - I think Sumo actually likes you more than he likes me."

"I don't think that's true. What makes you think so?"

"You need proof? Fine, explain this: when I call him - he doesn't bat an eye, but when you just look at him, saying nothing at all - he's at your feet in no time, as if you telepathically promised him a piece of steak or something. I don't get it."

Speaker rustled abruptly as Connor made some quiet sound, lost in sudden outbursts of the static. A short laugh?

"Did I finally say something funny?"

"No, not really. I'm sorry, I never thought about how that might look. I don't just look at him. I do something else."

"Which is?"

"I make a sound on a higher frequency. Dogs can hear it, humans – not so much."

"You let him in your house and he talks with your dog on a secret frequency. Fuck..," Hank shook his head in disbelief, "Never expected this from you."

"I'll take that as you're impressed," from the tone of Connor's voice Hank concluded he was pleased with his reaction.

"No shit, I've been scratching my head about this for months, even tried to look Sumo in the eyes with different face expressions. Never once did it work, not a single fucking time. Now I know why."

"You could have just asked."

"Yeah, well. What does it matter now anyway," Hank's eyes darted back to the cat, "In any case, my point is – dogs will love you no matter what, but cats can despise the living shit outta you even if you do everything right. With them, it's more of a gamble, y'know?"

"You don't mind gambling."

"Well, not when my heart is on stake. Wouldn't gamble with this crap - never worth it."

"Hank, are you implying that you wouldn't be able to handle a rejection from a cat? That sounds...a little dramatic, even for you."

Hank huffed a short chuckle.

"That's- Even for me, you say. What, am I some kind of drama queen in your book?"

Speakers rustled for half a second, then exploded with the sound of music "Ooh, yeah, ooh, yeah!"

Hank didn't need to look at the screen to know that that's Queen, specifically last minute of Bohemian Rhapsody. He felt blood rushing to his face, but as he opened his mouth to say something, the song already switched, also starting from the middle.

"-You are the dancing queen,

Young and sweet, only seventeen"

"Connor, go fuck yourself."

Fighting a smile and red in face, Hank took another bite of the sandwich, then glanced back at the front door of the building. Nobody walked in or out of it for the last 20 minutes. He didn't mind - at least he got to eat in peace. Well, almost.

Music got slightly quieter.

"How?" Connor asked.

Hank stopped eating and tried to remember what were they even talking about.

"How? Are you asking me about how you can fuck yourself?"

"Yes, I'm really curious how would you imagine me to do that. Given my... current condition."

"I have no idea. Guess you'll have to figure it out on your own."

"On it," Connor said in his earnest voice, and music got louder again.

This finally got an actual laugh out of Hank. He set the sandwich aside and and covered his face, feeling its heat on his palms and trying catch his breath.

"Just don't hurt yourself," he said, feeling warmth filling his lungs, giving up the fight against his face muscles - he wasn't sure why he had been resisting them anyway.

The cat stretched on the ground, greedily absorbing the sun's rays, resembling a sunbeam itself, as the only white spot in the overall grey area. Hank could see it looking around, as if searching for a better spot to enjoy and not entirely sure why -- more an impulse than a thought-through decision -- Hank took a piece of chicken out of his sandwich and stepped out from the car.

He crossed the parking lot and crouched down a few steps away from the cat – close enough to grab its attention, but not so close as to accidentally scare it away. Then he stretched his hand with a piece of chicken in the cat's direction, and sure enough – the cat came closer, curious. He let it sniff the treat, and just as it was ready to take a bite, started back towards the car. The cat followed.

Cat hopped onto the hood of the car as Hank patted it, and finally received a deserved piece of chicken along with a stroke. It purred blissfully in response.

"See better now?" Hank asked, sitting back into the car.

Car speakers rustled slightly.

"Yes."

#pocket ghost #dbh #dbh fanfiction #and as always quite ambitious but I'll still tag it as #hankcon #Thanks @arcanehackist for helping me with wording <3

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

omgg write something about playing or braiding jack’s hair

oh em gee I love this !!!!! I loved his hair braid too omg

Jack had a very specific barber he liked to go to to get the same quality haircut he always got. He trusted that specific barber and his appointments were always made in advance to absolutely ensure he could get it done the way he liked by whom he liked at the right time so it never got overgrown or hard to manage. Jack was very specific about his hair and about keeping it the way he liked it to be. It was part of his image, part of him really. The Brummie boy hated when anyone else touched it. Be that joking team members giving his head a teasing push or his dad ruffling his hair each time he walks in the door, it irks the living daylights right out of him.

So it seems as though it’s Jack’s own personal nightmare now the barbers are shut with absolutely no sign of opening up for at least another month and Jack can’t seem to take one minute more of training with his hair getting all up in his eyes, dropping into his face and blowing wildly in Birmingham wind even with a headband in. It is driving him absolutely insane. It’s all he can think of in this moment.

And that is because he currently has your fingers tangled in it completely absentmindedly as he lays in between with your legs with his legs stretched out along the L section of the L shaped couch. Your eyes are fully focussed on the storyline evolving throughout an old episode of Greys Anatomy. Jack’s arms are around your torso as his head rests comfortably on your lower stomach with his eyes peacefully shut. He would usually engage in the TV with you, but the preseason after an unexpected break that had him doing less exercise than he definitely should have been doing had him absolutely shattered.

It was rare for even you to touch the locks he took so laughably serious, but it felt like the most soothing experience he’d maybe ever had to feel the gentility of your finger massaging over his scalp in the most relaxing manner he’d ever known. Even his sports massages after long matches weren’t this relaxing.

“Mmmhm, feels so good.” He murmurs, his voice ticking your stomach as he speaks against it, the sigh that leaves him making you giggle in response. “So annoyin’ in training.” He adds tiredly, but not lacking in the obvious irritation he feels towards it. Jack tends to feel a lot and often, and even seemingly small things like his hair getting in the way of his play was unimaginably irritating for him.

“I could cut it?” You suggest.

“Yeah,” he snorts, “And end up like the poor dog? I’ll pass love.”

“Aw come on! It wasn’t that bad.” You retort

“He looked like a street rat with curls, sweetheart.” He laughs, despite the disappointment he feels for your hands leaving his hair for the first time since he lay down tonight.

“Cheek.”

“Sorry baby.” He lulls, finally looking up at you for the first time, lifting his face to offer you a smile that strained him. Holding his head up like that was too much for his already tired muscles, so he’s quickly laying his head back to its resting place. You can’t think of anything else to retort with, knowing full and well the incredibly poor state of affairs that occurred in your household three weeks into Lockdown 1 after you attempted to give the dog a haircut out of pure boredom and lack of open dog grooming services. The state of affairs being Jack crawling to the bathroom on his knees and one hand with the other hand holding onto his crotch because he was trying so hard not to wet himself from laughing at the poor pup who looked so confused that his dad hadn’t been able to greet him as normal when he returned from the weekly food shop.

Jack very nearly did piss on your good cream carpet that day, so it was fair for him to not trust your barber skills either. Especially being the way he is about his hair.

“You know the old episodes make me miss Derek.” You announce after a moment of only the television speaking between the two of you.

“He the one with the hair?” Jack mumbles. You snort a laugh.

“They’ve all got hair, Jack. Go on, say it then?”

“Fine,” he huffs indignantly, “The one with the good hair.”

Your giggle makes his heart erupt into butterflies that dance through his stomach and chest just like it does every single time he gets to be lucky enough to hear it. Jack doesn’t like to admit when others have hair he likes. He prefers to live in a world where his hairstyle is simply the best, and truly he usually does. He tends to live in his own world anyway. The world where his hair is fantastic, he gets to do what he loves for a living and come home to you each and every day. That’s his world and fucking hell does he love that world.

In reality though, part of that world is that however fictional Derek Shepherd may be, his hair is fantastic and always looks rather immaculate. Something Jack can’t quite relate to at this current moment in time. “You know this episode is kinda about his hair,” you note softly, hands smoothing back over your boyfriends brown locks. He knows by the tone of your voice that you’re going to go into more detail about the episode currently playing through on Amazon Prime TV. Some people may well have been annoyed listening to their girlfriends recounting entire episodes of TV shows that they weren’t exactly inclined to watch, but Jack was not one of those men. He didn’t care what you were talking about, just the sound of you talking was enough to make him listen intently. He loved to hear you talk, and if that was the only thing that he ever got to hear for the rest of his life then he’d still be happy.

“They adopted a little girl and he hasn’t quite figured her hair out yet but everyone’s shocked ‘cause his hairs pretty good. Like you, a little. You got good hair, just haven’t learned to manage it yet eh?” You explain, weaving your fingers in and out of those stands of hair that make him hum in both understanding and enjoyment. He isn’t sure what you’re doing, but the weaving of stands, pads of your fingers dancing over his scalp carefully, softly feels like what he might imagine heaven to be. “Yeah?” He asks, “And what does he do then?” His voice is filled with genuine interest for what you were saying. It was the first time you’d ever known that in a relationship. He heard you snigger softly to yourself. “He learns from someone who knows a bit more about hair than he does.” You state pointedly, prompting him to roll his eyes even if you can’t see him.

“I’m not letting you cut my hair, (y/n). Not happening, I’m sor-“

“Alright, Jack. I bloody know! That’s not what I meant.” You grumble. Jack can immediately imagine your disgruntled pout already, with those irritated narrowed eyes and the playful scrunch of your nose. “Sorry.” Every time he sees that look on you, he moves to kiss that furrow out of your nose. It makes his heart smile each and every time he sees it. You are simultaneously the most beautiful, more adorable and hottest woman he has ever laid his eyes on. “Sorry baby,” he reiterated, “Go on.”

“I could braid it for you?”

That earns a belly laugh from him that reverberates through your body, jostling with the force of his whole body laughter. “So you will,” he bellows in breaks between the ever comedic gasping from breath after each loud laugh. “Not a chance.”

He pushes himself up to sit back on his knees, trapping your legs between his as he looks down at you with a huge grin still stretching his lips and creasing his eyes, yet they still sparkle in adoration for you. “Oh yeah?” You muse with a giggle to follow despite the firm attempt to seal it behind clenched lips. The giggle sets those dimples into your cheeks, his eyes just drinking you up as you lounge back on the huge couch there in front of him, sinking back into the pillows just like he had been sinking against you in comfort for hours only moments ago. “Yeah.” He repeats firmly, the playful jest of his words not lost on your ears as he leans forward.

With the emission of only a small, surprised yelp from you that turns the head of the dog in his bed for only a moment, Jack has grabbed your legs to tug you down so you were laying flat on your back on the L of the sofa. He leans over you, hands and strong arms keeping him above you with ease. “Realllly?” You tease, one eyebrow quirked. Jack loves it when you do that, mostly because he can’t and he finds it beautifully funny.

Your hands reach up to his face, cupping over the beard on his cheeks to bring his face down to peck his lips before letting him press back up like a simple press up over your body. This was a common occurrence between the pair of you and Jack had always loved to show off. “Not cuttin’ about with a braid in my hair baby, sorry.”

He dips down for another kiss and you break out another giggle that parts your lips from his. “You already are, bub.”

“Ya what?” He pops straight up, sitting again back on his knees. “Not falling over your face now eh?” You taunt with a cheeky grin that makes him furrow his brows. Jack removed his hands from beside you to run one after the other over the top of his hair, a weird mix of a grin and disbelief washing over his face. Your sweetheart smile warms his heart as you lay there looking up at him with tired eyes and a lazy smile, cheeks flushed and one of his old cotton shirts keeping you warm long after his body raises from yours.

“Wait there!” He yells, bounding off the couch to all but leap through the living room until he reaches the mirror in the hall just outside the door. “Babe!” He cheers through the house, appearing back in the doorway of the room. “Nah it’s kinda cool, you fuckin’ smashed that!” You sit up and turn around towards him with your hand covering your mouth in a giggle that makes him stride forward and tug your hand away so he can see that beautiful smile. He jumps back again. “And look; stays in when I move around like-”

An immediate howl of laughter breaks out of your mouth with your head tipped back in hysterics as you watch him run on the spot, jump on the spot and then shake his head around like your puppy when he had a cone on his head. You laugh so hard your laughter looses its noise, simply existing as a elongated wheeze and a sudden gasp for desperate air to aid and allow for only more laughter. “Why you laughing for?” He yells, his words split by his own laughter as he tugs you to your feet, standing taller than him when your on your feet on the couch. Jack wraps one arm around your waist and moves the other down to the bend of your knees to sweep your legs from beneath you, perching you on the edge of the back of the couch.

“It,” kiss, “is,” kiss, “perfect.” Kiss.

“Just like you, baby.” He rumbles lowly, “Perfect just like my girl. Gonna wear it to training. Keep hair out my face, remind me of you, perfect.” He just keeps talking, keeps praising you between kisses while he brings you closer and closer to him until you can wrap your legs around him. Locked in place, he takes your face in his hands.

“So you’ll let me braid it again?” You chime, eyes lighting up. Jack chuckles, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks with a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose. “Course baby. Every day.”

True to his word Jack Grealish is. Every night he comes home from his training, he’s laying on the couch letting you massage the days stresses out of his mind, letting your fingers weave the tension out of his scalp. Jack’s never let anyone take care of him so much. He’s never felt comfortable to be taken care of like this, but you are his exception. His one single exception. And every morning he sits in the floor at the foot of the bed while you sit with a leg on either side of him, fingers weaving the strands into place for the day and tighter for match days. People make comments but Jack doesn’t give even half of a shit. His hair is how he likes it; out of his face so he can concentrate on his game and it gives you more of a reason to actually be up in the morning when he leaves before the sun rises above you. That’s perfect for Jack.

Until his next haircut, the only time that footballer doesn’t have a braid through his hair is when your fingers are tangling in it while he’s between your legs for another very enjoyable reason.

#jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #england national team imagine #england national team #jack grealish #jack grealish blurb #jack grealish prompt #footballer fics

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

*flies in like magneto* can i get some exes to lovers™?

Do I have some exes to lovers fics for you? Yes I certainly do. It seems that the cherik fandom loves some exes to lovers cherik and I don't blame anyone because this ship really calls for all the angst. I hope you enjoy this list.

Exes to Lovers AU

Bound – FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Preheat to 350 (just for you remix) – ikeracity

Summary: Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Thread Through a Needle – Black_Betty

Summary: Erik and Charles are broken up. Neither of them want to be.

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) – kianspo

Summary: While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

Linger like a tattoo kiss – ikeracity

Summary: Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Symphysis – ikeracity

Summary: After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

Call/Response – phalangine

Summary: Charles and Erik have a real conversation for the first time since breaking up. Charles is looking to avoid confrontation. Erik is not.

Regression Therapy – Fantine_Black

Summary: O, God, he’d made a terrible mistake. Whatever he’d expected to find here, Erik was still Erik, a man he’d moved continents to avoid. In retrospect, that felt like a rather good idea…

Four years after Charles walked away from Professor Lehnsherr, the two meet again for a drink.

Because things are better the second time round, aren't they?

Forever is Only a Drunk Dial Away – bettysofia

Summary: Charles is sad and drunk and stalking Erik's Instagram.

Shop Space – Caradee

Summary: Charles and Erik break up but still meet at their favorite coffee shop and manage a completely friendly relationship. The kids who work the coffee shop don't understand it, Charles' overprotective twin brother doesn't understand it, and even Charles doesn't understand it. Then, Erik shows up with a new date, someone who seems to be everything that Charles is not.

How will the Professor handle the surprising heartbreak that comes seeing Erik with someone else?

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

Believe (One More Time) – luninosity

Summary: For the prompt, Charles and Erik dated during college and had a bitter break-up right before graduation. It's five years later and they both meet again at their class's reunion for a weekend. Someone was even stupid enough to have them room with each other for the weekend...

Old Flame Burning – TurtleTotem

Summary: It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

Don’t speak to the bartender – Wild_Imagination

Summary: Logan is a bartender, it's a gloomy evening, and in his bar there's someone with a broken heart. But this is not a movie.

Right?

Somewhere I’m Going & Have Never Been Before – Yahtzee

Summary: In late December 1984, Charles falls victim to the terrible pandemic sweeping across the globe. He's sick, probably dying, and utterly alone in an isolated cabin...until he's not.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland – TurtleTotem

Summary: Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Lean On Me – SpiritsFlame

Summary: Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

It was a yellow umbrella spring – ikeracity

Summary: Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

My heart above my head – annejumps

Summary: Emma thinks her coworker Erik and her friend and fellow telepath Charles should get together. No one expects things to get so intense so quickly.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End – populuxe

Summary: When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

Exit Wounds – LemonadeGarden

Summary: It's been eight months since Charles and Erik had a fight that broke apart their marriage. When a mutant rights protest goes awry and Charles begins to get sick, past memories and present obstacles begin to blur the lines of their ideological differences.

Alternatively: Charles and Erik learn how to fall in love again in troubled times.

Note: Unfinished

11 Days, 8 Hours and 12 Minutes (or Bruises, Stupidity and Anger Management) – ximeria

Summary: For six months, Erik and Charles have been the disgustingly happy couple of the school. Considering their pigheadedness and general communication skills (or lack thereof), things are bound to go boom at some point.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

I will Never Stop Loving You – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik and Charles split up three years ago but Erik never really got over it and then one day when the man who walked out of his life three years ago is walking down the street towards him, Erik sees an opportunity to mend fences.

Please leave your message after the tone – ikeracity

Summary: Spending his evening getting shitfaced and pining over Erik seems like a totally productive use of Charles's time. Luckily, it turns out to be a better idea than it sounds.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don’t last remix) – hllfire

Summary: Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce.

A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let it Snow Remix) – kianspo

Summary: Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Write this number down (you can call it anytime) – pocky_slash

Summary: When Erik upsets his children, they have a habit of running away from home--and straight to Charles' school for cookies and consolation. Charles doesn't mind the visitors, but as they appear more and more frequently, he realizes that sooner or later, he and Erik are going to have to talk about what happened on the beach and what it means for their future and the future of Erik's children.

All we do is break up (and make up) – Stuckyl0v3r

Summary: "So instead of making the most out of this next months, because you don't know where either of you is going to end up, you decided to stay away from each other to get used to the feeling?" Hank summed up, stopping in front of the class. Charles nodded his head confidently and beamed at him, but somehow his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, something like that."

Well, that was the most idiotic plan Hank's ever heard.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White – ximeria

Summary: Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #asks #earnestly answers #exes to lovers #ex boyfriends

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saintobio · 4 years

Text

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

remember, forever. (15)

↳ kageyama tobio x f!reader

description: in which the boy you’ve loved for years unexpectedly becomes your baby daddy. the catch? he’s in love with someone else.

genre: angst, cheating, unrequited love

a/n: this chapter is one of my favs bye

You once thought that the perfect wedding only existed in fairytales.

Just the idea of two lovers exchanging vows, committing themselves as one, and starting a life together were too good to be true. Being a bride next to her groom or a groom next to his bride must be such a good feeling. But to you, it seemed so out of reach. Something not a lot of people would have.

However, you loved weddings. You loved being a spectator to someone else’s love story. You were like a reader of a romantic novel who was on the last chapter of the book where you either cry or smile to your heart’s content.

It was even better when your bestfriend was the one getting married and you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling a tad bit emotional.

“You look ethereal, Jina,” you complimented, fixing her hair as she looked into the mirror. She was the prettiest bride you’ve ever seen in your life.

Doing your Maid of Honor duties was supposed to be hectic, but your best friend had specifically divided the tasks among her bridesmaids because you were pregnant and she didn’t want to stress you out.

Even at that, you were still trying to do your best to stick to your appointed role.

She squeezed your hand. “You’ll be more beautiful on your own wedding.”

She would never expect that such a wedding wouldn’t really happen to you, but today was all about her. Today was all about her beautiful relationship with Iwaizumi and nothing else.

“Is Kags here yet?” she asked and you felt your heart drop to your stomach at the mere mention of his name.

You didn’t want to think of him anymore.

You casually shook your head. “Game just ended but he’s probably on the way.”

“Good.” She grinned, unknown to your current thoughts. “He should see how gorgeous you are in that dress.”

You had no idea how you managed to fit into a beautiful lilac dress that Jina specifically picked for you, however you did feel beautiful today even though you weren’t the one getting married.

At least, for once, you felt pleased with how you looked.

“I bet Iwaizumi’s gonna tear up once he sees you walk on the aisle,” you teased, already imagining how the said guy would be so emotional. Jina was his very reason to smile and cry. She was his everything.

“Please,” she snorted. “He’s gonna catch these hands if he takes the spotlight away from me.”

———————————————————————

Classic weddings happened in churches, but a garden wedding might be your personal favorite.

The smell of fresh flowers, the sound of the orchestra from the distance, and the picture-perfect landscape—all of it made you feel like you were physically in heaven, no matter how cheesy that sounded. This was such a dream wedding and you were amazed at how they managed to set up all of this in just two months.

“The most handsome Best Man has arrived.” Oikawa appeared beside you as you lined up amongst the other guest who were all preparing to walk on the aisle.

You beamed at him. “Hate to say this but you do look handsome.”

“More handsome than Tobio-chan?” he egged on.

You pretended to think. “Hmm... That’s a tough question but I’m gonna have to say no.”

“Lying is a sin,” he scoffed, squeezing your nose. “But on a serious note, I like it when you’re smiling like this. The last time was—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, not wanting to talk about it.

He was referring to that night after the fashion show where you barged into his apartment crying for no reason. Of course you had a reason, but you didn’t tell him.

He didn’t have to know. You simply needed his presence as your comfort. Even if he tried to ask you so many times about what happened, you didn’t speak a word and merely released all the pent-up emotion you felt through your tears.

You worried that Oikawa wasn’t going to take it lightly if it involved Tobio making you cry like that.

“How’s Iwa?” you asked, changing the topic.

His best man let out an evil chuckle. “He’s nervous. You should’ve seen the look on his face.”

It was only natural for anyone to be anxious on their wedding day. You knew, however, that once he sets his eyes on Jina, all the nervousness would be replaced by an overflowing feeling of bliss.

He didn’t really have to wait an eternity to have that blissful feeling because the ceremony started soon after. Throughout this sacred event, you were silently watching as Jina and Iwaizumi exchanged their vows and it touched your heart just at how wonderful it was to see the two people close to you finally getting married.

They were such beautiful couple together.

On another hand, you caught a glimpse of Oikawa from the opposite side who had playfully winked at you. You chuckled and shook your head in humor.

“I’m late.” You heard someone say and you turned to your side to see Kageyama slipping in next to you. You could feel your heart pounding from your chest in an instant.

You averted your gaze because you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back the more you looked at him. He rushed out of his game to be there yet he managed to look ravishing in a velvet tux. He was too perfect. Way, way too perfect that it hurts.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered on your ear, placing a gentle hand around your waist.

You hated when he did things like this, because it made it harder not to love him.

“They’re about to kiss,” you mumbled, looking back at the couple. Your hand moved to caress your bump, thinking about how cute it’d be when Jina conceives a baby of their own soon.

Wouldn’t it be adorable if they happened to have a baby girl that you can later pair up with your little boy?

The thought already made you excited.

You then watched as Jina and Hajime said their I do’s before sharing a sweet and loving kiss, sealing their marriage as an official newlywed couple.

Light tears formed on your eyes with the happiness you felt for them.

———————————————————————

The reception was just as you expected. It wasn’t surprising to see some people from Kitagawa Daichi and Seijoh to be at the formal event. Of course, not everyone could make it but most of the couple’s closest relatives and friends were in there. It was meant to be an intimate wedding, anyway.

The best part was that the whole Aoba Johsai team was complete. You even had to go on explaining to Kindaichi about who your baby daddy was while Kunimi was claiming that it wasn’t much of a shock.

Those two have known Kageyama for as long as you did and they have witnessed how your puppy love for Tobio grew into a teenage crush and now into a baby.

It was a nice, nostalgic feeling to once again see the same people who watched you grow together. All the memories you’ve had with everyone in there were very dear to you.

You tried your best not to be too emotional when you delivered your speech for the couple during the reception, however Jina herself had wiped a tear or two.

Meanwhile, Oikawa was the one acting like a pregnant woman with how emotional he became. You actually had to pretend that you didn’t know the guy at one point and it was even funnier when he got teased by some of his former teammates for it.

Well, Iwaizumi was his greatest partner after all, so you did understand why Oikawa reacted that way. He was obviously very happy for him, much like how you felt for Jina.

As for Kageyama, you were doing your best to be civil around him. He was still trying to care for you, assist you with what you need, and simply be around you while also acknowledging the people that greeted him.

You didn’t know how to feel around him and you were at a point where you didn’t want to bother feeling anything anymore. You have come to terms with your feelings and you promised yourself that it was time to move on.

You just wanted your heart to be numb for once.

Loving Kageyama was dangerous—you knew that since the beginning, but you still took the risk. You made a gamble for your feelings just to have the sole happiness of what loving him made you feel.

It was the kind of love that sent you into ecstasy despite not being reciprocated. It was the kind of love that made you stronger despite all the pain you had to go through.

But there was a limit to everything.

When Lara called it an obsession, you denied it so hard at first. But at this point, if you were loving Tobio when it only benefits you, then maybe it really was an obsession after all.

Because he didn’t benefit from it. In fact, he was burdened by it.

He didn’t show it through his actions but you just knew by heart that someday, he would leave and realize what a waste it was to even try to be in this forced relationship with you.

Your feet already carried you towards the balcony to take a breath of fresh air as your thoughts were tormenting you.

You just wanted to be away from everyone, even for a few minutes. You needed to gather your thoughts together and calm yourself down.

Relax. Take a deep breath.

You needed to remind yourself that you couldn’t change your mind now and repeat the same cycle of wishing for Kageyama to love you over and over.

“Are you okay?” You heard Oikawa ask as he followed you to the balcony.

The stars were bright tonight but your feelings certainly weren’t.

“Trying to be,” you answered, this time with more honesty.

He made an effort to cup your cheeks. “Come on, do you need me to cheer you up again? Just say the magic word.”

“Is the magic word ‘Oikawa is sexy’?” You sent him a heartfelt smile.

He squeezed your cheeks. “You got it. Now smile or I’ll kiss the shit out of you.”

Before you could even respond to his playful joke, you heard someone clear their throat and that someone didn’t look particularly happy.

“I think you’re being too touchy with her,” Kageyama snapped, glowering at his senior.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Oikawa raised a brow at him, unpleased. “I think you should mind your business.”

That made Kageyama step closer. “I am minding my business. You’re all up my girlfriend’s face.”

The sudden tension made your fingertips feel cold.

Tooru sneered at him. “Tobio, you can’t have a girlfriend and make her cry.”

Kageyama was about to argue but you decided to step in.

“Guys, please,” you begged before turning to Oikawa. “Tooru, just give us a moment to talk. I’m sorry.”

Oikawa surely wouldn’t have let it go if you didn’t beg, but he did share one last look with Kageyama before leaving the two of you alone.

You felt sorry for him because he was only trying to cheer you up but this had to happen.

At the same time, you were glad this happened.

Because now, you finally had the chance to say what you’ve been planning to say to Kageyama for the past few days.

You turned around and took a deep breath.

You got this.

You inhaled, exhaled, and told yourself that it’d be okay.

“Are you mad? I...I’m sorry.” You heard Kageyama say, stepping closer behind you. “I just didn’t like how he—”

With a heavy heart, you faced him again.

Let him go.

“Tobio, maybe we should just stay separated.”

Those words came out of you like word vomit. You knew saying it would actually be more painful more than just thinking about it, but you had to tell him.

You’ve already thought about it a million times. You’ve had it at the back of your mind since the day you realized that he would never love you and it was time. He had to find his true happiness back.

It wasn’t easy for you.

You wished you could continue loving him the same way and still cling to that hope that he would return it. You wished you could be the person that he would love, not because he was forced to but because he truthfully wanted to. You wished things were different and that you were meant for him.

But you weren’t. He was meant for someone else.

You were certain it wouldn’t be difficult for him to agree and you had yourself prepared.

“Why?” He looked at you with a pained expression.

You sighed as you felt tears forming your eyes.

“Is this... Is this about that other day?” He shook his head, frantically. “She kissed me, I didn’t—I didn’t respond to it—”

“You know it’s more than just that, Tobio.” You looked down and wiped your eyes. “I’m just... I’m exhausted.”

He tried to make you look at his eyes, but you couldn’t.

God, you loved him. You loved him so fucking much that it was physically causing you pain to say all these.

“I won’t keep your son away from you. We can still co-parent, but you don’t have to always be around me anymore. You don’t have to try and pretend that being with me makes you happy because I don’t want that. You deserve to be with the person you really love even if that’s not with me.” You swallowed, hot tears leaving your eyes. “I’m so grateful that our baby has such a caring dad like you and I’ll never ever take away your rights as his father. But this... us... we don’t work together. It doesn’t feel right to have you this way and it’s unfair to you, so I want you to know that it’s better if we’re just not together anymore.”

You couldn’t exactly call this a breakup because you didn’t know if there was any real relationship between the two of you except for the sake of your baby. At least, on your part, you had been real to him. You always have been.

Yet it was evident on Tobio’s face that your words caused him immense pain.

That your words had pierced his heart.

Had broken him in half.

Had crushed him into pieces.

“No,” he answered in hard refusal.

You sighed. “Tobio, I’m sorry—”

“I said no, you can’t leave me!” he almost yelled, releasing an emotion that he was trying so hard to keep. “You can’t do this. I want to be with you. I want to have this family with you!”

No, you don’t. You belong to Lara, not me.

You took his hand and held it close to your heart as your tears started falling. “You don’t have to be with me for our baby. You will always be special to me, Tobio, but I think this is for the best. I’ve already long accepted that you’ll never really love me the same way. It’s okay and it will be okay.”

Just like you, he started crying, too. Tears ran down his cheek like waterfall. You didn’t exactly understand why he would show such vulnerability.

Tobio hardly cried and he only ever did when he was extremely hurt.

“I don’t want to,” he strictly said.

“But—”

“I’m fucking in love with you!”

You stood still, eyes wide, heart frozen.

You were at a moment of loss.

You never expected those words coming right out of his mouth.

“Can’t you see?” he continued, eyes filling up with tears. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for the longest time and I didn’t realize until now!”

You squeezed his hand and tried to stop your chest from hurting. “That’s not true...”

“It is true!” he claimed, looking straight into your eyes without any hint of hesitation. “I’ve felt this way for you since high school, but I didn’t understand my true feelings back then and I’m so... I’m so fucking dumb! How can I not love you? You’ve been there for me when no one else was. You’ve stayed with me when I lost the person that raised me and I thought I had no one else left. You’ve continued to love me unconditionally even when I was difficult to you. You loved me more than I deserved! I know could have told you how I felt sooner but you left when I almost had the courage.”

You couldn’t move as you listened to his every word. It felt like a dream. Like you had jumped to another reality.

This seemed like a cruel illusion that the universe was playing with you.

“All this time I’ve been convincing myself that I could feel the same way for anyone else. All this time, I thought I could find someone like you from anyone. I’ve convinced myself that I had forgotten how I felt for you and that I shifted those feelings for Lara.” He took a short pause. “I thought I had learned to love her, but you came back...”

He walked closer to you, caging you between him and the barrier.

“That night at the party,” he reminded you. “When I saw you, I made myself believe that I wasn’t gonna feel anything special. But I ended up wanting to kiss you, hold you, show you how much I fucking missed you. I was so eager that I wanted to make you feel how much I goddamn love you even if I didn’t know it myself. Even if my feelings didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t stop myself from doing things that I could regret, but you... I don’t regret what I have with you.”

“Tobio...” You sobbed, staring at his beautiful face under the moonlight.

This was undoubtedly Tobio Kageyama’s weakest and most vulnerable moment, and he was showing it to you.

It was a strange feeling to hear him pour out his emotions that you never knew had been present within him for the longest time.

He loved you.

He was in love you.

From then until now.

You weren’t just an extra that would fade in the background.

You were the main character all along.

“Don’t ever say I’m not happy with you because I’m the happiest I’ve ever been since I realized how I feel for you,” he said, eyebrows furrowing as his shiny eyes stared at you. “Don’t decide what makes me happy or not.”

You didn’t know which feeling dominated you the most: shock? joy? disbelief? It was all the emotion you had combined that made your heart burst into flames.

You sniffed.

“I love you,” he omitted those words with so much sincerity.

They were simple three words that meant the entire universe to you. Simple three words that you’ve always wanted to hear. If this was a dream, you didn’t wish to wake up from it.

Your eyes started welling up again. “You’re only saying this because—”

“I love you,” he repeated, wiping your cheek. “I love all of you, not just because you have my baby. Please don’t give up on me.”

Your heart was crying out of utter happiness.

And while the tears from your eyes had finally stopped, he leaned in and pressed his soft lips against yours.

They said that a first kiss felt like rainbows and sunshines and fireworks. This certainly wasn’t your first kiss nor was it his, but you felt so much more than what others described it to be.

This kiss was raw and pure and sober.

This kiss was from his deepest feelings that he’d connected to yours.

You found yourself holding on to his shoulders as he kissed you more.

He kissed you with so much passion that you couldn’t think of anything else but the sweet feeling of his lips. This kiss felt so right, so perfect, so undeniably incomparable.

And when you both pulled away to catch your breath, foreheads pressed against each other, you knew it was impossible to ever stop loving this man.

“I only wanna be with you,” he whispered. “For the rest of my life.”

This wasn’t your wedding.

But how come it felt like you’ve just married this man?

“Me too,” you replied with a cracked voice that caused him to smile.

He pressed a light kiss on your lips once more before touching your cheek.

You stared at each other’s eyes like there was no tomorrow, just simply appreciating each other’s presence, realizing the choices you’ve made, the words you’ve said, the emotions you’ve let out.

He made you feel one in a million.

#tobio kageyama #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama x you #kageyama x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama angst #kageyama fic #kageyama #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu

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hyukmoon · 3 years

Text

moon. | l.sy x gn!reader

lee sangyeon x gn!reader

word count: about 4.01k

to put it short: congrats! Something you should actually say, right? Your best friend and crush is getting married in two days and you feel,... well, not very good about it. So, wait... he's returning the feelings? Damn.

content warning: ANGST in capital letters, I would add lots of exclamation points but im lazy. So yeah, hella angsty. Some good old making out, it's kind of heavy at some point but no smut at this point lol. I don't condone any of the done actions, so yeah, I would've personally handled everything differently, but you know, y/n is kinda wild. Very awkward sometimes, but that's more the situation in itself. ALSO, NOT PROOFREAD

taglist: @loki-in-hogwarts

note: the second thing i wrote and im somewhat excited!!! Yes! Exclamation points. So,... thanks for reading :)

It was a great day. Well, at least seemingly for everyone but you. Your best friend in this world Sangyeon was about to get married to the love of his life, who is notyou and now you just stand in the hotel lobby waiting for it to happen. Funnily enough, the crushing feeling of desperation and fear didn’t seem to set in yet.

The hotel lobby was filled to the brim with acquaintances and other guests possibly confused by the uproar of the wedding guests. So, who were you specifically waiting for? The rest of your friend group, the ones who will most likely clean up after the wedding whatever will be left of you.

A nervous smile swept up to your lips, casually just avoiding every sort of tension that could come across you. Just with the luck of this entire occurrence an older woman started to approach you, demon alike features spreading around her face almost like she knew you were apparently the only single person here. An aunty, that wasn’t even related to you but had all the business to judge.

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?”, her sweet voice rang a familiar feeling in your stomach. Almost too sweet, making you suspicious of her intent. “I’m here for my best friend, Sangyeon. So, yeah, for the groom.”, you hesitated a second, “What about you though? Do you know the bride?”

“She’s my youngest niece, the only one that still visits, her sisters don’t even care anymore…” You nodded politely, not wanting to anger her now and stepped towards a different direction.

“So, my dear, are you here with anybody?” You already feared that question, the same as always. The eyes of yours started with a panicked expression searching through the room a familiar pair. “No, I am here on my own. I kinda wanted to focus on getting Sangyeon through with it, being there for him.” As a friend.

Possibly this was the first part of feeling despair and fear. People at this wedding were really waiting for them to get married. They weren’t joking, this would change everything.

“Ah, I see. You know, get over him. Well, it is time for you at least, you’re not getting younger. There are quite few handsome men here. I remember the names Juyeon and ah yes! Kevin, get over here!” As far as you were concerned, your facial expression couldn’t possibly look more stunned than a moment ago, yet another one of your good friends appeared, seemingly just as confused.

This only held on for a good second, Kevin knew exactly what to do. “Oh hi, I’m so sorry to steal [Y/N] away from you, but I actually need to talk to them on my own over a gift we both prepared for the couple!”, he grinned at the lady, who was obviously smitten with him. “Yes, of course, hun. Take your time.” She finally hushed into a separate direction.

“So, how are we doing? You seem kinda… stressed.”

“You don’t say”, you sighed, “if I have to go through a conversation like this again today, believe me I’ll-. “

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I get the sentiment. Even though I meant more the other situation. Like in, Sangyeon getting married and you sitting here all grumpy because of it.”, Kevin was already aware of your “small” infatuation with your best friend, a man too far out of your reach also funnily enough, the man’s wedding you’re attending. However, your friend in front of you didn’t seem to mind talking about it out loud in a place like the hotel lobby. Your lips tightened up into a fine line.

“I’m not grumpy! I just…I don’t really know what to do. I mean, I know I’m going to be there for him but yeah, okay, I might feel a bit grumpy.” The lobby did clear up a lot now.

“Okay, oof. There’s this dinner with everyone in the evening today, do you think you can get through that?”, Kevin asked hesitantly just as stressed with this additional complication.

“I mean, I probably have to, don’t I? This makes me so sick, ugh. Not gonna lie, my stomach feels like a laundry machine.” You laughed quietly and drifted off again into a place where you didn’t need to think about this.

“What did you really expect though? You know I love you, respectfully, but like, this feels like an incredibly bad move to do.”

“Don’t you think it would be worse if I didn’t show up at all? I’ll just need to go through this weekend and I’m outta here. No one will know anything.” It might feel like a nightmare but at least a nightmare you can actually run away from and not actually have to face at some point.

“Well, I hope you’ll keep your confidence. Because imagine I saw the person, I love getting married to someone else. Oh my, believe me, you wouldn’t find me for the next three weeks.”

“Not very helpful, a good three out of ten. I guess, I’ll just stick to sulking around then.” A dead smile crept up your lips following a stern look from your side at your opposite.

“Seems like a good plan, just stick to me, maybe we will find someone to take your attention away from this, huh?” A sly grin was visible on Kev’s face.

“Ughhh, of course. Let’s do this. It can’t get much worse than that”, you cleared your throat, “thanks, though. You actually make this here somewhat bearable.”

“Awww, come on. We should pack out our suitcases.”

No one can really prepare someone for a moment like this. Most older folk turned into their hotel rooms which left you in a party like situation seeing your closest friends turning it up in a huge pavilion while the future groom sits comfortably on a velvety sofa hand in hand with his fiancée.

The air was quite warm even at this time of the evening, not humid, just warm enough for everyone to taste the end of this era with nostalgia and a slight feeling of energy to experience what’s to come afterwards.

You as well sat down, continuously processing your environment. With a cup of your favorite drink, you felt invincible, nothing able to shake you down.

Now while this wasn’t a preferred environment, this was manageable; you could look your best friend into his eyes and proudly congratulate him on his wedding. You would be able to get over this and continue to be a great friend. Black hair with an intense facial expression made its way into your viewpoint along with a somewhat tipsy Kevin. Simultaneously the lighter hair of your best friend fought his way through the crowd.

Lee Sangyeon, the man lighting up your mood with simple touch of his fingertips was now signalizing for you to head outside towards the veranda of the pavilion. He exuded patience, yet clearly waiting for a response of you. You nodded and brushed cautiously over your evening attire.

“Hii, [Y/N]! Can I introduce this someone to you? This is Juyeon, he might look a bit intense, but he’s really nice to talk to! So, I’m gone for a sec then!” Kevin started drifting off into a different direction where you stopped him in his tracks.

“Could this wait? Sangyeon needs to talk to me. I think it’s important, I’ll come back though in a bit!” You gifted both of them an apologetic face and made your way around the men towards the going to be groom.

Surely it wasn’t exactly clear why he wanted to speak to you, especially on his own. He was still waiting for you after all.

“[Y/N]! What has it been? Like three? Four months? I missed you so much.”, Sangyeon pulled you into his chest abruptly and sighed softly into your shoulder. Engulfed entirely in his figure you never wanted to wake up from this again. Was it now 10 seconds? 15 seconds? Neither he nor you really seemed to let go, taking in all the scents of his that were formerly familiar to you.

“Yeah, I think so. You were probably busy planning this all and I just had to work, I guess.” Trying to keep it short was your main goal, appearing distant maybe. He didn’t mind at all though. Not discouraged from continuing this conversation Sangyeon pointed at the veranda, showing the only speck of space with little to no crowd.

The veranda was close to closed off to the party. Non distinguishable palm trees in the far distance were playing right into your cards for not having to look into his eyes. Magnetically glowing, that’s how he appeared. All happy and smiley about the obvious luck he was experiencing. Now again, he sat down with you in the beach chairs without loosing a word.

“The palm trees are so pretty. You remember me wanting to buy some new plants?”, you tried to invite him to the conversation.

“You always want to buy new plants, which time do you mean?” Sangyeon grinned to himself. “You know what? It’s so weird. Everything feels still so unreal. This wedding, also you at my wedding… So weird.”

“I am literally your best friend, where else should I be? Your funeral? At home? Who else is going to charm the hotel staff for some free capri suns and new towels?” Your mouth crinkled up and you let out a soft laugh.

“[Y/N] … You know exactly what I mean!”

“Noo, not at all. I’m so confused right now, not gonna lie.” Your face finally moved towards his direction, seeing his gentle gaze resting on you.

“Do you remember when we were still in school, and we promised each other we would marry each other if we didn’t find anybody else?” His gaze got more intense with each sentence.

“Yeahh, kind of. I was probably tired and it’s like ten years ago. I’m not really sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I really thought I was going to marry you. For several years, actually.”, he laughed. “I had such a crush on you and then you met your s/o and all that. Ughh, it seemed so complicated back then. Kind of weird to think about what could have happened if I did ask you out or something.”

“True.”, you turned away again standing up and resting against the wooden railing of the pavilion. “But you didn’t so, let’s just drop it there.” The weather as well started rebelling a bit, the wind hugging your figure slightly too tight for your taste.

“Why are you so cold all of a sudden?”, he whispered closely behind you.

“Well, you’re getting married tomorrow. And you’re telling me about a crush you had on me?”, you croaked.

“I was just being nostalgic, I thought this would be fine with you.” Sangyeon appeared now next to you on the railing, waiting for you to face his concerned dark eyes.

“It isn’t for me. It just feels wrong.”

“What feels so wrong about it? It was a long time ago.”

It is here, the bitterness. Bitterness shouldn’t even be the correct term, the pain of your heart going into a slump didn’t feel like a fitting word. Being reminded again that you will never have a chance again.

“Wait or is it not a long time ago for you?”, The voice of his tried to word his next sentence very carefully.

“I went out with them because I thought you were joking. Then when I thought about you, it was always different. It was too late though, you met her.” Only the close ocean along with the wind were hearable, neither you nor he were able to form another thought put into a sentence.

“You could’ve told me. I would’ve-.”

“Broken up with her?”

“No, I-.”

“Then what could you have done?”, you interrupted Sangyeon’s rambling, trembling while speaking. Terribly spiteful with a bite that wasn’t too often dripping down your lips.

“This.” Sangyeon pressed a fluttery kiss against your lips. Slender fingers tapped onto the skin right under your chin, signalizing you to look at him.

The now much calmer atmosphere made you snake your arms around his torso. Heat rose towards your head, longing after a second out in the cold again just to see his lovely facial expression. Your lips broke off and touched once more in an almost hypnotic fashion.

His hot breath started sliding downwards your cheek to your neck, physically making you unable to resist his entrancing presence. Also his hands broached over from your face down to your waist, holding you with the lightest touch.

Sangyeon’s lips darted away from yours, catching you staring deeply into his eyes. The silence felt warm now as well, filled with the slow and recovering breath of the participants.

“[Y/N], I think I still feel that way.”, a rosy blush swept over the man’s face you wanted to hear say these things so many times and so long ago.

“No. No. No. You shouldn’t! I shouldn’t either! I have to go.” The reality of the situation caught up to you. This was bad. Incredibly bad. Still the disgusting feeling of hope within this made its way up to your head. Stinging alongside the feeling of remorse, you didn’t think clearly, especially now, next to him.

You darted in the fastest way possible from the pavilion up to the hotel to your room, leaving him there.

Today should be the final day. The hopes that already should have been buried a long time ago, crawled up again and clawed its way into your mind. What if he leaves her for you today? Like in those unrealistic rom coms. Yes, again, it was unrealistic.

Leaving her at the altar and running after you. While all those thoughts of hope and wishes came together you found yourself with a stomachache. His fiancée was an incredibly nice person, sweet and kind along with being a beauty. You shouldn’t even dare to think about Sangyeon that way anymore, she deserved a lot more. Quite honestly, you felt pathetic. Who were you to run into their possible future?

Just because of a simple brush over the lips, his eyes staring into yours like no one else existed but you and his soft hands delicately touching your waist. A tap on your shoulder put you out of your trance, “[Y/N]? Can you go up to Sangyeon’s room? He asked for you.” Kevin’s eyes glanced at you with uncertainty. Neither you nor he knew why he wanted to see you.

Even more importantly, why did he need to see you alone? This seemed like dangerous territory after, basically yesterday. Agony rose again, what if he really was going to leave her?

“Sure, I don’t know why he wants to see me again though.”, you said and left to see the groom’s room. You stumbled more and more over every step closer to the door of the man who’s going to rip your heart and air out of your lungs. The normally soft laid out carpet felt in this moment like you were stepping barefoot over glass. There was the door, brightly painted in eggshell paired with the digits of the hotel room.

Before you could reach the door to knock on it, light brown waves greeted your overtly surprised face.

“You clean up well.”, Sangyeon’s rang in your ears clearer than freshly hung-up laundry in your nose. His previously concerned face curled up into a faint smile.

“Same goes for you”, you tried your best to hide the very apparent frog in your throat, “So, why do you need me?”

“Just needed to see you before going out there, I guess.”, his voice got a lot quieter. It got silent.

Not sure if a said word was necessary, you plopped down on a small, velvety stool. Every whisper was to be heard. An otherness surrounded Sangyeon, like he wasn’t there anymore, and his thoughts took over his being. You scooted closer towards him, just wanting to see him up close for the last time like this, smelling his earthy cologne from this distance.

“Why are you doing this to me?”, your voice went close to hoarse after the question. He was just as silent as before. No sound, nothing. This torment of a weekend was supposed to end with no gratification, not feeling free from this feeling on your chest? Your hand slid over his, the most desperate attempt to get his attention while also experiencing his touch again. Sangyeon jerked his hand back and returned to his absent posture.

“Why do you want to hurt me like this? I am your best friend, and you use me like I’m nothing.” The lack of power you had now made you sink down to the beige teddy carpet. Small tears started swelling up in your nearly dry eyes, kind of contradictory, yet the more tear drops rolled down your cheeks the rottener and hollow you felt.

“You were my best friend until you-.”, he stopped midsentence, “made me feel things again I didn’t need, I didn’t want.” Also his face was wet, ridden with tears making his usually calm and cheerful persona look like a painful insult.

“You asked me here. It hurts, Sangyeon. I can’t make it stop hurting, I don’t know what to do”, you reached for him again, “Could I ever be enough for you?” He returned your former attempts to stroke your face. Cornering both of you, the air trapped you in the toxins of heartbreak and hopelessness.

Once again, Sangyeon’s hand glid over your soft skin and halted on your face. Glaringly staring into each other’s eyes, you were there again. The day before, yesterday. Close to baring the soul of each person present.

“[Y/N], it’s not about being enough. It never has been. I have made a commitment I already broke, I…I can’t do this”, he sighed, “you know I love her.”

“I thought you loved me as well.” Overwhelming nothingness overruled you, almost scaring you about this reaction. You weren’t crying, yelling nor having any physical reaction at all. It was convincingly numb; the resting hurt would come later. Sangyeon’s head dropped in the dip of your shoulder and neck.

This sort of closeness would never happen again. You feeling him breathing into you while having his comforting heartbeat close to yours.

“I do, but I can’t do this to her. I would never do this to her.”, he whispered into your shoulder. A sigh came from his side.

“Then, please. Kiss me, for the last time.” The last part of the sentence left a disgustingly bitter taste in your mouth. This was over, right? His head, which was formerly resting on your shoulder, drifted up and towards yours. Also his expression blank and hollow, like he didn’t know anything.

For the last time, his hands cupped your face in a comfortable manner. As always, he felt homely, but he surely wasn’t yours ever. Not even waiting a good second or two, the light brunette’s face came closer to yours. With no hesitation both of your lips touched tenderly, releasing every sort of affection that could be expressed at that second. You inhaled again his intoxicating scent, in the hopes of having him all over you. His now reddened lips moved closer towards your jawline making you gasp for air.

Also, you weren’t completely still, constantly shifting your hands up and down over his torso upwards his neck, desperately feeling everything, you can for the last time. Sangyeon’s locks tickled you softly while he suddenly latched his mouth onto your neck right below your ear.

“No. Please, I just want a kiss on my lips.”, you said lowly, closely resembling a whine afterwards. He complied pretty quickly, leaving you with no thought but him tickling your bottom lip with his warm tongue. With him being this fast, you didn’t want to keep him on his toes. Entirely engaged in this moment, hands surprised you again on your waist, wandering closer and closer under the blouse you were wearing. You moaned into the kiss, making him take the opportunity to maneuver his tongue into your mouth.

Similarly to you, he was also stunned for a short moment when you grabbed up onto some strands of hair. A sigh left his now plump lips, a need of fresh air arrived onto both of you. Yet this was short lived, his hands captured your chin and attached his lips again onto yours in a matter of mere seconds. A bell rang, close footsteps to be heard across the floor reminding you of the situation you were in.

“Why am doing this? I am so sorry.”, you broke off his lips and took a step backwards at the door.

“[Y/N], we both did this, and it won’t happen again. We just need some time without each other. I think it would be for the best if we don’t spend time together alone anymore.”

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing? I don’t know what to say. I-.”, His lips captured yours again fast with a lot more force behind his kiss.

A strong arm shut the about to be opened door again and hovered over your head. The other one caught grabbed your chin with an almost contradictory feeling to it, the lightest touch just to shove you into his direction. You sighed into his lips, waiting for him to commit with his tongue one more time. Buttery lips pressed against yours and clang inside your mouth. Fiercely did your tongues meet, ending with him sucking on yours. Wet cheeks batting against each other with no intent of separating, your movement still came to a halt.

“You know what? I hate this. I want you to be happy, then if it is with her, I will just y’know…go or uhm mind my business.”, you slurred the last part. It wasn’t really one of your most prideful moments. Still flushed with tears and embarrassment you dropped again against the room door.

“I ask for one condition though,” incredibly hearse was your voice after the crying and even more so because of your follow up, “I do not not want to see you for some time, I don’t want to have to see your face ever again.” Tears weren’t anymore swelling up in your eyes, they never seemed to stop running down with no chance of leaving this conversation with an ounce of self-respect and pride.

It wasn’t even really much of a problem to leave him behind for a bit, it most likely would be for the best anyway, yet while his words should only leave a small mark and feel like a ripped off band aid, you felt alone. A sense of loneliness crept stealthily into you leaving you with nothing but a severe feeling of dread.

“If that is what you want, I’ll respect that.” The room got quieter till you heard the last of his words: “Of course, I still want you in on my wedding though, you’re still my best friend.” Sangyeon’s usual soft and kind smile appeared on his face, seemingly reaching you an olive branch. The former assertiveness and confidence drained through the conversation; you were nothing but a wreck.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

The ceremony was beautiful. Fairy like flowers were hung all across the beach space, making the place more surreal than it was to begin with. Everything light with a hint of light green and an even lighter lavender tone. The air seemed to have evaporated all the tension and sadness from your face. All across the seats were relatives and friends sitting with a nervously happy face. Ironically, he really thought it was going to be you someday.

“You’re [Y/N], right? Everyone always tried to introduce me to you. Now we’re sitting next to each other at Sangyeon’s wedding together! I’m Juyeon by the way.”

#lee sangyeon x reader #sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon #sangyeon #tbz #tbz fic #tbz angst #the boyz fic #the boyz #the boyz au #the boyz scenarios #sangyeon x you #sangyeon x y/n #the boyz x reader #sangyeon tbz #the boyz kevin #the boyz juyeon #moon kevin #lee juyeon

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akitohsworld · 4 years

Text

It's okay to be sad - MC/GN!Reader who bottles up emotions

Short story with additional scenes

I was emotional and wanted to write something mildly angsty +with happy end

|Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan

You're perfect at masking your emotions. It comes naturally to you, no not in an 'oh I'm so different than the rest" manner. But in a 'I shouldn't be dramatic'- kind of way.

You know, the seven brothers, they all have problems. Problems that to you, were maybe evident. Because you came to them with your human standards and your human socially acceptable behaviour and your human psychology.

You judged them under those standards because it's all you've ever known. That's normal. It made sense.

But that also meant that you could see:

Lucifer's prideful, cold, distant demeanour due to guilt and sadness.

Mammon's greed as a form of escapism.

Leviathan's envy and due to an overwhelming inferiority complex.

Satan's masked, distant anger issues due to his own insecurities (father issues).

Asmodeus narcissistic personality due to his struggle with self image and self worth.

Beelzebub's gluttony to fill the emptiness, maybe distress.

And Belphegor's constant tiredness because of depression.

Whatever the real reasons, the real cause, you knew that specific behaviour came from underlying issues. Underlying problems, that, when thrown at you, were never meant to be personal. It was them 'acting out' due to their own pain.

Although, this gave you more the reason to forget your own issues. Even if for a little while, you could indulge in the feeling of being a helpful person to others. You felt needed. You felt loved.

But as obvious as their behaviour made their problems for you, as undetectable your behaviour was for them as you were a natural at masking to be fine. That was what you had to do. That's what the detached society in the human world looked like. Nobody wanted to be vulnerable, but everyone wanted to belong, fit in.

What do you do to fit in?

Exactly. You're fine. You're normal.

Everyone has problems.

You pass Leviathan's room one day, hear him sniffling, sobbing and he just sounds so incredibly devastated and lonely to you. You can't stop yourself, you knock. The sniffling stops and you hear him try to calm down, in fear of his brothers hearing and teasing him for it. And then he asks:

"Wh-what do you want??"

In your head you already ticked a box.

Mistake number one: He hasn't asked for a code.

"Levi, it's me", you respond, voice as soothing as you could possibly manage.

"Y-(y/N)? Uh- uhm"

Mistake number 2: He normally immediately tells you to come in or opens the door himself.

"Can I come in?"

"...", he says nothing, probably because he is debating. Probably, because he can't decide if he wants you to see him like this... What if you think he's annoying?- But he also doesn't want you to go because he doesn't actually want to be alone. He wants comfort.

And so, instead of answering, he cautiously opens the door, peaking outside, hoping to see some kind of rejection, or sympathy in your immediate reaction.

You just shoot him a sympathetic smile. A smile that says 'hey it's okay', a smile that says 'I will never judge you' and you go in, as he opens the door, taking a step back.

You close the door behind you, so that no one sees him and, without a word you just reach out to him, inviting him in for a hug. And he just immediately falls into your arms and begins to start sobbing uncontrollably. He burries his face in your shoulder and hugs you tight, just as you soothingly rub his back, pressing your cheek against his.

"It's okay. I'm here", you mumble as your hand pats his head and softly caress his purple locks, "It's okay. You can cry.. just let it all out"

And he shakes even harder as you just stay like that for what feels like an eternity. While he calms down, muffled sniffles dying down, you part, but not fully. Just so you can see his face.

His eyes are puffy from crying, and he looks better, not so devastated anymore, but still very distressed.

Your hands cup his cheeks and rub the tears away lovingly, giving him time.

"A-aren't you wondering why I'm c-crying...?", he tries not to, but you know he's worrying about your motives. He's worrying about you caring or not. He's worrying about being a bother. He's worrying about you hati-

"Yes, of course. I'm worried", you smile, "But I don't want to pressure you. If you want to talk about it, then I'll gladly listen and if I can be of help, I'd-"

And his tears well up again as he hugs you tightly once more. "Th-thank you, (y/N), you're the best."

Afterwards, he would tell you the reason and you would hug more. And finally, you would ask if he wants to cuddle up and game or watch anime to calm down and distract yourselves. Having dinner in his room and just cuddling until the next morning.

That's what Leviathan's break downs looked like. And you were always happy to help. Because you cared for him.

Everyone has problems.

Satan and you had these afternoons. Just at random, he would hit you up to just sit down somewhere and rant. Rant, rant, rant and finally letting his anger out in one choleric blast. Sometimes ending in maniacal, distressed laughter.

Why did you have these sessions? Because you wanted him to have an outlet. You wanted to make him feel understood and not judged.

For everyone else in the Devildom, his wrath was "just" a result of his sin. But you knew, that it was more than that. It was bottled up emotions and a deeply routed insecurity.

It made him angry, he hated it, to be compared to Lucifer, to not feel like his own person.

And you knew that.

Why?

Because you listened to him. You gave him the space to talk and rant about what made him angry and why. Without judgement.

Yes, you were definetly a therapist without a license. But that didn't mean that he didn't feel better after each rant. He loved you for being that safe space he missed in his life.

After another one of many explosions, you would normally put a hand on his shoulder. Your eyes asking if he needed more time. He would, strangely, calm down instantly. He just felt so serene with you there.

"It.. just made me so mad and I'm getting angry just thinking about it", he would say, trying to search for a calmer way to explain himself.

"No, that's perfectly valid. Nobody has the right to do that/ Feeling the way you feel is your mind's way of telling you that there is a reason. It doesn't matter if you know it or not, it's there and that makes it valid.", were things you would say to make him feel validated and accepted in his emotions.

"Why do you think, you feel that way?/ What do you think was the thing that really stung about what they said?", were questions that would follow.

And when you offered a hug, he would gladly hug you and enjoy the comfort of your hands rubbing through his hair, almost making him purr.

"Thank you for telling me.", you would say.

"Thank you for always listening.", he would respond.

And both of you would be smiling.

Sure, it sounded tiring. And sure, sometimes it took all your mental capacity to really be of help to him. But you were appreciated and you cared for him. He cared for your opinion because he cared for and respected you.

Everyone has problems.

Lucifer on the other hand, would be a tough nut to crack at the beginning. He masks all his exhaustion, his overthinking and his worries by working until he collapses from exhaustion.

It was basically his form of escapism.

Late at night, you'd come to his study. Bringing him snacks and some tea. You didn't even have to knock most of the time. He would open the door with magic and wouldn't even look up.

You look at him, burried in his papers from head to toe. His pen sliding over the paper swiftly, as he mumbles work-related things to himself in concentration. You muster up a sympathetic smile, even though you just want to sigh and shake your head.

"Scones?", he asks as he stops for a second to look at the platter you put before him. He smiles gratefully, "Thank you. I appreciate it."

You wordlessly put your arms around his head and feel him tensing up for a second, before relaxing against your touch, putting an arm around your thighs, rubbing them absentmindedly.

"You should take a break", you'd tell him, as you had so many times before. And he'd weakly nod, sighing.

"I appreciate your concern, but there's so much to do."

"I'll make you take breaks, Lucifer", your fingers caress his head and he sighs contently, "I'll tell Diavolo."

"Oh anything but that", he chuckles. The first sign of him being too exhausted is his inability to properly react to a threat like that.

Lucifer, bless him, is a bit of a buzz kill. So he normally doesn't take kindly to remarks like that. And that's when you know.

"You're taking a break. Now."

And he would just grip onto you more tightly and not say anything. Deep in thought.

Your voice would soften as you ask him:

"Love, tell me what's going through your mind."

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?", and with a defeated, but grateful sigh he would spill everything that worries him, that pains him, that makes him insecure. About Diavolo, the Devildom, his brothers... Everything really. And then, you would take his hand, and guide him to the bedroom through the connected door. And he would let you help him wordlessly, as you loosen his tie, unbutton his shirt and help him change. Afterwards, you would lay down cuddling and sleeping, too tired to do anything else.

The next morning, you would make him take a bath in his demon form. Helping him groom his feathers, wash and proceeding to get wet as he shakes himself like a bathing bird. And just like that his mood would be enhanced, he would feel happy and full of energy.

A well-deserved break was something you were willing to force him into. Because you cared for him.

Everyone has problems.

Yes, everyone has problems.

And that's why you didn't even think about yours. That's why you didn't want to think about yours.

And nobody notices at first.

Because that's just how you deal with everything.

Because when it threatens to overflow, you can just pretend to have an occasional bad day.

Because you don't know how to deal with them.

Because even though you behave like the absolute reliable therapist, you're your worst client.

But one day. One day your mask cracks. You can't stop it. It just happens.

Because one day you'll reach your limit and nothing can stop you from doing so.

It doesn't matter what triggers it. A thought at breakfast, a comment you took personally, someone who looks at you strangely, food that you don't like. It doesn't matter.

One day, your mask cracks.

It's a small crack.

But it's noticeable.

Maybe you snapped out of it in the middle of overreacting. And you just excused yourself saying you're tired and go to the bathroom.

But it's too late.

Because now that they saw you reacting uncharacteristically their eyes are fixed on you more than ever before. They notice, and they will notice, the crack. They can't put their finger on it, because you hide it well, but it's definetly there.

And you break down in the bathroom, desperately clutching at the sink, looking into the mirror and trying to calm down while tears continue streaming down your face. You wallow in self pity and self deprecation. It just comes over you, like a wave.

And suddenly it's time to leave.

Lucifer knocks on the bathroom door, after telling his brothers to leave already. Everyone noticed. But he wants to make sure you're okay without them around.

You wipe your tears, wash your face and try your most natural happy-go-lucky smile. But he notices your puffy eyes. He reaches out to ask you what's wrong, but you distract him with whatever shenanigans his brother is doing at the moment and quickly go off to put an arm around Asmo and Satan, asking them 'what's up' in the most natural way you can muster. As you talk, you think he will, they will, eventually forget, or maybe ignore your behaviour. That nagging feeling that is telling them that something is not okay.

Throughout the day, you get more random hugs than usual, more attention bits than usual and also more treats from Beel than usual.

You can't hide it. Because no matter how normal you think you behave, there is something 'off' about you. It could be you being a bit too cheerful, a bit more tense, or a tad to unresponsive. Either way, there is something on edge about you.

You go to the bathroom again, this time at RAD. You enter one of the stalls, have a quick cry and go out to wash your face. You go out and meet Lucifer and Diavolo in the hallway.

You're even more on edge now, because you can't lie. So, you try to just wave at them and pass them quickly, trying to look like you need somewhere to be.

"(y/N).", Lucifer would call out to you and you would flinch in the most subtle way, before turning around smiling

"Hey! I need to go- what's wrong?", which would be technically the truth.

"We need to talk later, alright?"

And your stomach drops so hard, you'd think it hit the floor, when you try to seem as unbothered as possible, faking concern. "Of course? I mean, we'll eat dinner together so"

He would just worriedly look at you and force a smile as you went your way.

He knows. He knows. Oh no, he knows.

Thinking up excuses to questions you were making up in your mind is proving to be too exhausting and frankly, you're too preoccupied with 'being fine'.

But the damage is done. You're mask is this close to breaking. It only takes three little words to break you at this point.

RAD ends and you walk home in silence. You simply don't have the energy to mask anything more than a semi-interested, seemingly invested smile as you listen to Asmo talking about the newest skin care serum, and Mammon talking about his newest cash grab. Superficial topics they picked up half heartedly to make the atmosphere less tense.

And finally you arrive at the house of Lamentation.

To your suprise not even Beel goes directly to the kitchen. You wordlessly follow them, as they enter the living room in silence.

"Honey, sit down please.", Asmo says, sympathetic look on his face as he pats the spot beside him on the couch. You mask a confused expression and a:

"Uh? Okay...??", as you sit down, everyone else taking their place next and in front of you. As you all sit or stand in a circle.

Neither Belphie nor Asmo directly cuddle up to, or lay on your lap, even though they're sitting beside you and that's what they always do. They're giving you space. And they all have a worried expression on their faces.

"So, (y/N)-", Satan begins but he is cut off by Mammon.

"Are ya okay?"

That's it.

And in a flash Asmo's arms are around you, Belphie offers you to hug his pillow before he hugs your waist, Satan gets you tissues and rubs your back, Beel crouches down before you, food in his arms and a worried sad puppy expression on his face, Levi stutters and doesn't know what to do besides sitting down beside Beel and try to comfort you, Mammon short circuits and just sits down with the others while putting a hand on your knee and Lucifer asks if there's something you need, or if you want space. When you shake your head he joins the others on the couch as everyone group-hugs you, letting you cry.

The mask breaks and falls as you feel your stomach sink to the floor. Your face contorts in pain, trying to calm yourself down. You can't even form words as you take a breath to speak.

Your head just falls to your hands and you sob and cry, in front of them, for the first time. You feel so small, and the world feels like it's crushing down on you in a single motion.

The occasional 'don't apologize ya idiot', 'you have nothing to be sorry for', and 'its okay to feel sad sometimes' responding to your incoherent sentences.

It's good to help others, but remember the world is made of giving and taking. It's okay to receive help and be vulnerable around others. It's okay to confide.

Just as you think your favourite people in the world could never be a bother, just like that it's okay to assume that that feeling is reciprocated.

You're not alone, you don't have to wear a mask.

It's okay to be sad sometimes.

Because everyone has problems.

If anyone alludes this to not actually wearing a literal mask against Covid I swEaR tO gOD yoU'Ll cAtcH thESe hAndS 👀

#obey me #headcanon #short story #mc #gn reader #mammon #satan #lucifer #belphegor #beelzebub #leviathan #asmodeus #mild angst #tw: depression

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dracusfyre · 3 years

Text

Wing and a Prayer

Had a pretty bad bout of writer’s block towards some of my WIPS so I took a break and wrote a quick wingfic, I’ve never written wingfic before and was intrigued to give it a shot. Shout out to @massivespacewren for the prompt :)

also on AO3

~~~

"Oh, shit-"

It was just a brief curse before Tony's comms cut out, and in the scheme of things, "oh shit" was rather mild given the situation. But there was a note in Tony's voice that made Bucky look up from his rifle scope to find him, trying to see the flash of his repulsers and the dark brown of his wings amidst the cloud of drones that were swarming the city.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky breathed when he found him. He dropped his rifle and started running, keeping his eyes on where Tony was dropping rapidly, his desperately flapping wings and the intermittent bursts from apparently busted repulsors doing little to slow his fall.

Steve was on the other side of the fight, covering some escaping civilians as the dive-bombing drones tried to knock them from the sky, and Natasha and Clint were too far away. "Tony, I'm coming!" He shouted, ripping at the velcro on his body armor and shrugging it off as he ran. This was Tony's nightmare, his repulsors failing him while he was in the sky now that his flight muscles were compromised by the arc reactor. He left his ammunition and hand grenades with his tac belt on the edge of the roof as he jumped, his wings stretching to their limit as he strove for height. As he flapped he realized he was still carrying too much weight to catch Tony, so he glided for a second, catching thermals coming off of the sun-lit city streets to lift him up as he reached down and unzipped his combat boots, kicking them off to land somewhere below. Another roof was coming up, so he sprinted along the roof, ignoring the broken glass and rocks that dug into his feet, then jumped off the edge again with more powerful beats of his wings. He was gaining on Tony, who had somehow figured out how to use the failing repulsors to at least steer him towards a place to land that might be more forgiving than the city streets, wings spread for a few moments at a time before the muscles gave out and they crumpled.

“Come on, come on,” Bucky said breathlessly, chest and lungs burning as he struggled to catch up. Whoever was controlling the drones had seen that Tony was vulnerable, and he was having to waste precious repulsor power shooting them down as they attacked him. A small swarm spotted Bucky trying to rescue him and moved to intercept, but as they closed in on him Bucky twisted into a tornado flip, flicking out his wings so the the razor sharp vibranium primaries on his wings sliced through the drones, leaving most of them damaged or disabled. It cost him some height, though, and he cursed as he tried to make up for it, ignoring the last remaining drone as it dived at him like a mobbing bird, until it got too close and he grabbed it, metal arm crushing the central processer and tossing it to the side.

“Tony, I need you to fold your wings,” Bucky said urgently, searching their surroundings for a good landing point. He was finally a little higher than Tony and tilted his wings on a course for intercept, steeper than a glide but not quite so sharp as a dive.

“What?” Tony said with surprise, and Bucky saw him craning his neck to see where Bucky was. “What do you-“

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, but-“

“Wings in, now!” It was gratifying to see the speed that Tony obeyed, folding his wings tight up against his back even though it violated every instinct a person had, to close their wings while falling. He also stopped trying to use his repulsors and brought his arms to his chest and his legs together, turning into exactly the kind of target that Bucky needed.

Bucky hit him at a high enough speed that it almost knocked the breath out of him and he heard Tony grunt, but Tony didn’t move as Bucky wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest, even though he probably crushed a few feathers in the process. Bucky’s wings strained with the extra weight, and the glide turned into more of a dive than Bucky was comfortable with. He knew he couldn’t land like this; they were picking up speed too fast to even land safely – or even unsafely - on a grassy field, the force of the impact would be fatal. They had to get out of the sky now.

Bucky eyed one of the skyscrapers that was looming in the sky in front of them and groaned inwardly. This was going to suck. As he steered towards one of the huge glass windows, he brought his metal hand up to tuck Tony’s head into his shoulder and protect his spine, then at the last second he curled his wings around them and prayed that the vibranium-reinforced bones of his wing wrists would be enough to break through the glass.

It did, but it hurt; the impact shuddered through his bones, and his muscles screamed at the effort of keepings his wings tight around them as they rolled through desks and cubicle dividers before finally coming to a stop.

“Ow,” Bucky said, letting his exhausted wings flop open to splay out on the cheap commercial carpeting as he opened his eyes to check the damage. He looked down at Tony, who was laying on his chest. “Are you okay?” he asked, as he let go.

“Am I okay?” Tony sat up sharply and scrambled off of Bucky’s chest to start checking him for injuries. “You flew through an industrial-strength window! Are you insane? Those things are specifically designed to not be broken by people throwing themselves at them!”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He wanted to say, I’m okay, but he wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or not – pain was starting to make itself known even through the adrenaline rush, the hot ache of overworked muscles, sharp pains that meant he was probably bleeding, and the throb of something that was probably torn or dislocated. But Tony seemed fine, judging from the way he was still scolding Bucky while his hands, gentle despite their briskness, ran over his arms and legs and combed through the feathers on his wings, searching for injuries. “Better than hitting the ground, right?”

Tony paused for a moment, sat back on his heels and looked Bucky in the eyes. Bucky wondered if he knew how his wings were hunched protectively over Bucky. “Thank you,” he said, and Bucky got a glimpse of the fear he must have felt as he fell. “Whoever is guiding the drones realized that the repulsors were helping me fly and also helping me shoot down the drones, so they had the drones suicide bomb me until they took them out.”

“Figured something like that had happened,” Bucky said, managing a wan smile. The pain was really starting to set in now, so he tried to sit up or roll over before he got stuck on the floor like a wet rag. The effort tore a groan out of him as he realized that yep, his maneuver had definitely dislocated his wings.

“Oh, God, Bucky,” Tony said, giving him a hand to help him sit up, looking with dismay at how Bucky’s wings sagged on his back, dragging limply on the carpet. He ran his hands along the wing bones, searching for breaks; Bucky could have told him that with the amount of vibranium that Hydra had used to reinforce his bones, they would probably be ripped off before anything broke, but instead Bucky watched and wished he could feel Tony’s touch around the unignorable shriek of pain coming from his shoulders. “I don’t feel any breaks, I think they’re just dislocated,” Tony said after a moment.

“Do you know how to reset them?”

“In theory.” Tony grimaced. Now he was smoothing down Bucky’s ruffled coverts, unconsciously grooming Bucky as his gaze searched the room that they’d tumbled into. Their impact had left a trail of broken or shoved aside office furniture, tangled computer cables, and dented filing cabinets, but it wasn’t like they’d landed in a doctor’s office so there wasn’t a convenient examination table with wing supports for them to use. “Guess we’ll just have to do it laying down.”

Bucky mourned when Tony stopped grooming to help Bucky move so he could lay down on his stomach, though the movement was less “laying down” and more “controlled topple” as Tony let him down slowly. Tony had to spread out Bucky’s wings by hand, fussing more than he needed to as he made sure that none of the feathers were torqued or twisted, staying carefully away from Bucky’s deadly primaries. Tony also made tiny noises as he saw the places on Bucky’s back where the glass and debris had cut him on the way in, but reported that none of the injuries were major. As Bucky rested his head on his arms, he directed Tony on how to reset his shoulder joints. “I need you to do it fast and hard,” Bucky warned him. “You can’t be afraid of hurting me, because doing it more than once would be even worse.”

“I will,” Tony said, patting Bucky between his shoulder blades reassuringly. “One, two, thr-“ and halfway into three he shoved hard, before Bucky could tense up, and even as Bucky choked on a scream of pain he heard the pop of the joint resetting. Bucky panted harshly as the pain on that side settled into an angry pulse that felt much better than it had before, even though it was going to be a while before Bucky would want to move his wings on purpose. “Do you want me to wait before I do the next one?” Tony asked, sounding concerned.

Bucky swallowed back a whimper at the thought of going through that again. “Yes,” he forced himself to say. “Just give me a minute.”

“Okay.” Tony sat against Bucky’s side, a warm weight at his hip, and started grooming Bucky’s wing comfortingly, straightening out the feathers, smoothing them down, and picking out the detritus that had gathered in them. Despite everything, Bucky felt himself relaxing; it had been a long time since anyone had cared for his wings with anything other than brisk professionalism.

He could have laid there all day letting Tony do that, but Bucky reminded himself that there was a battle going on outside their impromptu refuge and so he said, “Okay, I’m rea- FUCK!”

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Tony said, this time stroking down Bucky’s back as he shuddered from the second relocation. “It’s better when you’re not expecting it.”

“Yep,” Bucky agreed through gritted teeth, trying to focus on the feeling of Tony’s hand on his back rather than the pain radiating from his shoulders. “So what’s the plan now?” he asked, trying to find something else to think about. He had no idea what was going on in the sky outside, his communicator had been lost in the impact, and wasn’t sure that there was anything they could do now that they were both grounded, but he figured Tony probably had an idea, he always did.

“As soon as you’re okay for me to leave you, I am going to finish trying to disrupt the signal to the drones,” Tony said. While Bucky slowly tried to relax the muscles that had instinctively tightened up from the pain, Tony went back to grooming his wings to help. “That’s what I was doing when they swarmed me.”

“You should go do that,” Bucky said, shoving down the selfish urge to let Tony keep grooming him. “I’m just going to lay here for a little while, then I’ll cut strips to bind my wings until my shoulders heal.”

“Are you sure?”

Bucky forced himself to nod, and then with a last pat on his secondary coverts Tony stood. “I just need to find this place’s IT closet and I think I’ll have everything I need,” Tony said, and Bucky lifted his head from his arms to watch as Tony disappeared through the maze of cubicles. After a few minutes, Bucky pushed himself to sitting, then to his feet, hissing as the movement jostled his wings. He unfastened the Velcro that held his shirt together along his ribs then pulled it over his head, trying to move his arms as little as possible, then started ripping it into long strips to help support his wings.

“Found it!” Tony crowed just as Bucky had gotten as far along as he could without help. Bucky looked up just in time to see Tony’s steps slow as he came around the corner and saw Bucky shirtless, and the way Tony’s eyes skimmed down his chest before coming back up to his face went a long way towards making Bucky’s day better. “I, uh, I just need five minutes with this router and we’ll be set,” Tony continued, dragging his eyes away to look at the electronics in his arms. He cleared the stuff off a nearby table and took a seat, leaning against the chest support as he started to disassemble everything and start plugging it into his headset, using his wings to brush the bits that he didn’t need out of his way. As Bucky took a seat too and watched, Tony started explaining what he was doing, which Bucky only listened to with half an ear, most of his attention on the sky outside the window to make sure they weren’t ambushed by any drones. He could tell when Tony was successful because suddenly clouds of drones started dropping all across the sky before Tony could even say “That should do it.” Bucky’s mouth quirked as Tony let out a smug ha as he turned to watch the black specks fall all across the city; it would never fail to impress Bucky how Tony could literally go from falling out of the sky to defeating the enemy in the space of twenty minutes. The newspapers had taken to calling him the Invincible Iron Hawk and even though Tony complained about the name Bucky thought the invincible part was spot on. Indomitable would work too, and as far as Bucky was concerned, he’d add irresistible to the list.

“Nice work,” Bucky said, and his face must have been showing more of his thoughts than he meant it to because when Tony met his gaze his face went red and his wings half opened before resettling against his back.

“Thanks,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I’ll bind up your wings, then we’ll hit the elevators and head home?”

“Sure.” Tony was an old hand at binding wings to carry the weight and ease the pressure from the chest and shoulders, making sure the strips went across Bucky’s chest and that it rested under the feathers to keep it from slipping and breaking any. “There,” he said when he was done, patting Bucky’s bare shoulder.

Bucky reached up and put his hand on top of Tony’s before he could pull it away. “Would you like to go flying with me sometime?” he asked before he could talk himself out of it, feeling his face flame. “Flying flying?”

Tony’s grin was rueful. “Flying flying? I don’t know, I think you did some pretty impressive flying to save my life back there,” he teased, but his wings were up and already unfurling, like he was ready to go right now. Bucky’s wings instinctively tried to match him, and the spike of pain made Bucky wince. Tony gave him a sympathetic look and refolded his wings, reaching over to squeeze his hand instead. “Yes, that would be lovely. I will fix my gauntlets, you heal, and then we’ll go flying.”

#tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #winteriron

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: Pleasing The Duke {1}

Duke of Hastings/Rege Jean Page x OFC Jemilla “Jemi” Remmington

Warning: Plot, Regency Period Piece, Slow Burn, LOTS OF WORDS

Words: 5.7k

Summary: After your four weeks on the marriage mart and the tumultuous way yours and the Duke’s budding friendship that turned into a faux courtship, then a real crisis that could have tarnished your name forever, you are now married to the Duke. Only this is no traditional marriage. The Duke has professed to never fall in love, never get married, and never sire an heir, a matter you know nothing of. Furious that his wanton, lustful desires have gotten him to forego one of those vows, he is determined not to break the other two. That would usually be an easy feat. Only with you, it might be more challenging to keep those vows, seeing as no matter what, you are the only thing on his mind.

Note: Inspired by Rege Jean Page’s portrayal of Simon Bassett. This fic will not have any other characters from the series, except Lady Danbury, mainly the portrayal version of her by the incredible Adjoa Andoh and maybe Queen Charlotte portrayed by Golda Rosheuvel. This series will focus on The Duke and an OFC female character and will be a sultry and erotic historical romance. Anyone under 18 is advised not to read.

***Let me know if you guys want me to add like glossary terms at the end of the chapters for period specific words/items.

***Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Julia Quinn’s characters, nor the Characters established by Bridgerton. I own the rights to the original characters created in this story.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Slightly Interactive***

Chapter One: The Duke & Duchess Of Hastings

“I pronounce you husband and wife.”

You kept your back straight and your limbs stiff though you felt at any moment either or both would give way, sending you tumbling to the ground in a heap of white lace, silk, and tulle. Perhaps you’d even be sucked into the ground for good measure, you thought. No one spoke once those words had been uttered. Almost a full minute passed before the clergyman spoke again.

“Eh-em, I declare you husband and wife.”

You gulped and slowly found your head swiveling toward the man beside you. a man who was practically a stranger, a man you’d now found yourself joined to until you were parted by death. Your husband—The Duke of Hastings. When your eyes met his, you noted a look of strangled fear and disgust. His jaw was clenched, and he looked as if he were seconds away from revealing the contents of his stomach right on the front of your gown.

Long moments seemed to pass with the two of you just gazing into each other’s eyes. This was not the gazing of enamored lovers or even lustful suitors. It was the gaze of a man who’d been forced into a marriage he did not want and a woman riddled with guilt for her part in it.

“Your grace.”

Simon’s head snapped back in front of him to find the clerk holding out the book he was to sign his name into. You watched as he took the quill from the clerk and slowly signed his name. He paused after every word as if he were seriously contemplating scratching his name from the book entirely. An act that was to be seconds took a full minute, and the entire time you wondered if he would turn to you and call the whole thing off, leaving you a ruined and jilted woman.

Simon held the quill to you for your turn. As you took the object, your gloved fingers grazed his. Even though your skin did not touch his, you shivered all the same—that was before Simon snatched his hand away to drop them to his sides. You glanced down at his hand that you’d ever so softly grazed a week or two ago and watched his fist clench tightly.

“Your grace,” the clerk repeated, this time to you.

Bringing your attention back to the book in front of you, you proceeded to sign your name beside Simon’s. Instead of writing the name you’d been accustomed to your entire life—Lady Jamilla Remmington, you signed your new one for the first time—Duchess Jamilla Bassett, The Duchess of Hastings. It looked strange to your eyes, but it did not look terrible.

“Congratulations, your graces.”

The voices began to overlap as each of those in attendance for the small ceremony extended their felicitations to both of you. Neither of you could find your voices or the words to reply to even thank them. There was nothing to be thankful for, you thought. You’d traded one unhappy future for an equally unhappy one, quite possibly more unhappy as you’d just entered the very thing you’d refused to—a loveless marriage.

Thankfully leaving the church, there weren’t people outside ready to shower the newlywed couple with rose petals and cheers. Unfortunately, you had to ride in the same carriage as your new husband. Simon sat across and diagonal from you, peering out the window at the scenery. Holding your bouquet of fresh flowers while fiddling with the blush-colored silk ribbon it was tied with, you watched Simon take a flask out of his coat pocket and knock back something strong from the whiff of it that caught your nostrils. He grimaced, then groaned before he looked at you.

The way he looked at you nearly made you stop breathing, not from him taking your breath away, but from the hostility you saw in his eyes. Simon grumbled before looking from you back out the window. Your stomach fell, realizing just how severe and hopeless your fate was. For the remainder of the carriage ride, you worked to keep your eyes off of Simon. It was a task that seemed more manageable for him than you.

Every so often, your eyes found their way back to him to take in other parts of him. Either it was the way his cravat looked around his neck, and the sly way peeks of his throat could be seen through the tiny slots, or it was the way he tightly gripped the flask he held. A flask he didn’t bother to hide. He was already so unhappy with you that he didn’t care to continue the ruse of propriety for you. It was disheartening.

Simon kept his jaw firmly clenched as he watched the scenery pass, but he didn’t look as if he were looking at the rolling hills or passing farms. He appeared to be looking directly through anything that passed. This was just day one of your “new” life, and if the two of you couldn’t muster any conversation, you didn’t know what hope there was for the future.

The carriage ride from the church to your reception took all of fifteen minutes, give or take a few. You’d tried to plead with your mother to forgo the reception, stating that it was outdated and unnecessary, but your mother wouldn’t hear a word of it.

“The wedding reception is one of the joys of the beginning of a married woman’s life. It is the time she greets the ton as a Mrs. She is no longer a miss. You will get to revel in your new role in front of all the other unmarried women. The reception lets everyone wish you well while being the source of envy in their eyes.”

You sighed, hearing her words in your memory from the night before. You did not fault her. she did not know the true way your nuptials had come about. She thought you and Simon had genuinely fallen head over heels while pretending to have fallen head over heels. She did not know about what had transpired to bring the two of you to this outcome. You didn’t dare tell her.

While a loving and kind one, your mother preferred her children, mainly her daughters, to be the supreme example of propriety. She had groomed you to be nothing but a proper lady. That meant you always had a chaperone when you were going most places. You were never alone with anyone that wasn’t a woman. Your hemline was the exact number of inches deemed appropriate, as was your neckline. It also meant that your education was top of the line—well, most of your education.

You learned to read, write, do arithmetic, play the piano, do needlework, draw, paint, sing, dance, how to catch the eye of a suitor, the propriety of courting, and how to run a household for marriage. Your accomplishments could have been seen as superior, but your mother said you had to be better than average. You had to be perfect. She pushed you further, saying because your skin color was different, expectations for you to be perfect were high. So, you expanded your education to learn two languages, French and Latin. Excelled in piano and learned to play the harp. You were quite accomplished, usually more than those around you.

The part of your education that was lacking was knowledge that went past things others could see. Your mother made sure to keep any discussions of inappropriate topics away from you and your sisters, only giving you the smallest of details. She sure stressed what was inappropriate but skimmed past any other things. It was while learning about science and animals that you grasped procreation at the most basic level.

You had plenty of unmarried friends. There was Tessa Carmichael, your best friend who lived across the road, Abigail Prowler down the road on the left, Edith Bunfeld down the road on the right, and Letecia Grother, whose aunt was on the neighboring street. All of you often spent your afternoons walking around the park and gossiping about many things, including the joys and privileges of married life. None of you really knew what to expect. Of course, many unmarried ladies tried to grill the ones who were married, but they all remained tightlipped. All they did was giggle into their fans, saying, “you will find out on your own.”

Here it was, the evening of your wedding day, and you still had no idea. Your mother had assured you earlier in the day before you left home for the final time as a Miss that “The Duke will take the lead, all you must do is follow it.”

“Your grace?”

You came out of your memories to see the footman holding out his hand to assist you out of the carriage. Once you stepped out, you rearranged your dress until Simon stepped out beside you. You watched him tuck his flask in his jacket before he held his arm out for yours without even sparing you a glance. Sighing, you looped yours with his and let him lead you into the building.

Once you walked in, the first people you saw were your mother and Landy Danbury. They both had bright smiles on their faces.

“Your graces,” Lady Danbury said, dipping her head.

“Oh, you know you never have to bow your head to me—never to me,” Simon said with a fond smile on his face as he looked at Lady Danbury.

You knew his affection for the woman went deep. You weren’t entirely sure about most of it, but you knew that she’d taken care of him helped him become who he was. You’d only known him about five weeks, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to peel back the many layers of The Duke Of Hastings. You suspected you’d need a lifetime for that. A lifetime which you now had.

“Are you all right, dear?”

You plastered a smile on your face and nodded.

“Of course she is mother, she is now a duchess,” your sister Jerrikka piped up as she came over to pull you into an embrace.

“You know very well I am not the type to hold so much weight on a title,” you replied.

“Is that so? Not too long ago, I remember you bragging you were to be a Princess,” Simon dryly shot out.

You glanced at him trying to keep the glare away. You remembered the conversation you’d had where you’d uttered those words and remembered why you’d said them. You’d wanted to pointedly show him that you were desirable though he behaved as if you weren’t. Perhaps part of you wanted to enrage him or garner any reaction from him at all. He’d been so damned stoic. It was next to impossible to know what toiled in his head.

To not draw suspicion of trouble so soon after wedlock, Simon smiled at you. It almost looked like a real smile, a warm one, but his eyes remained cold—detached. He then led you into the ballroom, and as he did, all eyes floated to you. Everyone in the room held broad smiles on their faces as they dipped down into a respectful half curtsey or head bow. You and Simon both returned the gesture before the members of the ton flooded around you, each offering their happiest felicitations for your marital bliss.

You kept your back straight, face neutral, smile stretched, and hoped it shone all the way to your eyes. Your eyes always gave away whatever you were thinking or feeling. It was what you considered your fatal flaw. Your mother could hide everything behind her relaxed expression and only allow others to see what she wanted. Even, your sisters, Jerrikka and Jacinda, could remain relatively stoic, you were the one who was cursed. Your father always called you his little lightning bolt because of how quickly your emotions flashed.

By the time the congratulations finally subsided, it gave you time to take your first ever taste of Ratafia. Your mother had never allowed it. She said it was for married women. You and Jacinda had only been allowed one glass of cordial at any event. Once you’d had your one glass, it was lemonade after that.

You were standing close to the fireplace in the corner of the room. It gave you a good view of all that was happening. Simon was beside you, slightly turned away with one elbow resting on the stone of the fireplace. His stance allowed you to take in his side profile. Even standing leisurely with his other hand on his hop and one leg crossed over the other, he still looked regal. Before you thought it was conceit you sensed in him, but you’d come to see it as pride.

It wasn’t a detrimental pride or one that said he thought himself high over others. It was a different kind of pride entirely. It was one that made him more attractive in your eyes. His slim but masculine frame you’d gazed over tens of times over the last month always set your curiosities running wild. Right now, you found yourself wondering if all of him had the muscles he’d displayed two weeks ago when he rolled up his sleeves.

You hadn’t even seen your brothers in that state before. he was the first. As your eyes traveled the length of his body, you raised your glass to your lips and took a sip of the coveted Ratafia that many ladies seemed to love. Your eyes stopped at his backside, and that was where they remained. The liquid passed your lips and washed over your tongue.

The most unexpected flavor filled your mouth. It was one that was stronger than anything you’d ever tasted. As soon as you swallowed it, you began coughing. Simon’s head spun to you with a worried expression.

“Are you all right?”

Your response was another fit of coughs, which made Simon take a step toward you.

“Jemilla?”

You held up your hand as you cleared your throat once more.

“Good heavens, this is absolutely terrible.”

Simon’s eyes flittered between the glass in your hands, your face, and back to the glass. Slowly a smile spread across his lips before he pressed them together.

“Is this your first time having Ratafia?”

You nodded.

“How? Every lady in London has a Ratafia habit they think no one knows of,” he said with a smirk.

“Is that so?”

“Why yes. Look.”

He stepped to the side then nodded his head to the ladies of the ton. You looked at a few of them, and each of them brought glasses of the horrid tasting drink to their lips, including your mother, older sister, and Lady Danbury. He was right. It would seem the ladies did have a liking for the thing.

“How is it that your mother and sister drink it regularly, but you have not?”

He was facing you again with plenty of curiosity in his eyes. Needing something to do, you nearly raised the glass back to your lips—nearly.

“My mother doesn’t let any of us have this. She says it is for mature married ladies. So I did not qualify.”

Simon nodded and raised his glass of Brandy to his lips.

“I see. So, now that you are in the company of those married but not quite mature ladies, you decided to partake.”

Curiosity nipped at you now. Tilting your head to the side, you took him in.

“Married but not quite mature ladies? Pray tell what you mean by that, your grace?”

Simon didn’t attempt to speak. He just took another mouthful of Brandy and studied you with the utmost scrutiny. A hint of mischief flickered across his face before he scoffed and turned away from you, taking up his same stance from before. You could have tossed the remaining Ratafia in your glass at his back. He’d always had this uncanny ability to wind you up since the day you’d met. It still hadn’t changed. Your mother said that it was a blessing, and it would mean your marriage would not be a bore.

“It figures you would regress into a state of cowardice at the mere spark of a conversation,” you speared, knowing it would rile him up.

As expected, Simon spun around to face you but also took the three steps needed to be only inches from your face.

“Did you call me a coward?”

You fought a smile. “I wouldn’t dare, your grace.”

You knew he heard the sarcasm in your voice.

“All right, your grace, I shall educate you, but only a little. You are married, as sure as that bauble decorates your dainty finger, but just because you are married, it does not make you mature,” Simon reiterated.

You waited for him to continue, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you anxiously wanted to hear the end of his thought. Your eyes dipped lower than his to his mouth and watched him smile. That smile was something that was growing on you every time you saw it. You realized the dryness of your throat then, and you snaked your tongue out to wet your lips. His eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there for several long moments.

Simon leaned an inch closer. He could almost touch your nose with his. “You are not mature until you have woken the next morning in nothing by the bed sheets, with aches in muscles and places you never knew you could ache, and a road map of marks along your body all made with nothing but lips all from your first night with a man,” he said in the most alluring voice.

A strange feeling washed over you, and you feared you might actually swoon. Clouds seemed to fill your head as your entire body became so heated as if the fire you were standing near had caught on your body. You tried to control your expression, all the while Simon watched you. After a few seconds, Simon’s jaw clenched, making the muscles in his neck jump.

“Maturity, your grace, requires a toll be paid, and it must be paid over and over and over,” he finished. A scowl replaced his clenched jaw, and the thought that he felt disappointment made your stomach sink.

“And how many tolls have you collected, your grace?

Simon looked caught off guard by the question. It wasn’t a dignified question. One does not ask a man, even if he is her husband, such things.

“Plenty, but remember one needn’t make it an all-night occasion. Five minutes or so in a parlor could suffice.”

Jealousy hit you, and you couldn’t hide it. Simon smirked, then scoffed, but the smile slipped and was replaced with a frown.

“Well, my husband, the rake. I am surprised you wed at all.”

Simon looked pained, but you did not focus on it.

“As am I, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” He muttered it, but you heard it through. Instead of letting another emotion slip, you raised the glass to your lips and drank it all down in one agonizing and sicking move. Once finished, you walked off, leaving him there.

Mere hours into your marriage and things were already falling apart; you thought as you walked out of the ballroom and outside into the chilly night air. You took a deep breath, held it, and did it again and again. The man made you angry and flustered in under five minutes. You couldn’t help but reminisce about your time casually talking at balls and events around London while you were on the marriage mart. He’d been terse to begin with, but slowly he’d warmed to you.

You’d developed the beginning buds of a friendship that took you by surprise but was welcoming. While every man in London was trying to put their best foot forward to entice you into marriage, Simon was not. He showed plenty of his bad habits, his cynicism and preference to see the worst in people, his inability to see the true heart of those in his company, his stubbornness, his temper, and on some occasions, his rakish ways. It didn’t matter, you never judged him for it, and you could tell he appreciated it.

“My, how things have changed,” you said to yourself once you were under a wide-spanned tree sitting on the stone bench.

You closed your eyes and listened to the night, finding comfort in the chirping crickets, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves, the faint rolling of the wheels from passing carriages, all backed by the orchestral music from the ballroom. Slowly your anger subsided. You didn’t even know why you were angry. You’d known he had no plans to marry. It was one of the very first things he’d told you, and he repeated it on so many occasions it was seared to your brain. The Duke of Hastings was not in want of a wife. Yet, here you were married to him, all because of one night similar to this one.

It was your fault. You felt as if you’d left him with no other choice. You thought back to the night that had changed everything. You didn’t know what you were doing when you allowed him to cross the lines of proper distance between two unwed people. The only thing you could think about when he slowly came closer and closer was how badly you wanted to know what he smelled like underneath his cravat. For weeks the casual way he had it done with the different materials that were so much more vibrant than others always drew your attention.

In your few moments of stupor, Simon had managed to come so close you could see the small flecks of auburn within his eyes. His unexpected closeness made you swoon slightly, and his arms were there to catch you and hold you against him. It was your first time being close to a man that was not either of your brothers. Even then, there was some distance.

Simon’s hand then grazed your cheek and trailed down to your jaw before curving back to where your earlobe hung. You’d lost whatever strength your knees had and slumped against him just as his finger dipped down your neck and coming across your collar, and it was there he stopped. It took several moments for his finger to plunge lower until it dangled right above the rise of your breast. When he dipped his head down while maintaining eye contact, you began to shake in his arms. He took a deep inhale at the swell of your breast.

“You’re trembling like a leaf, are you cold?”

You shook your head slightly.

“Then what are you, Ms. Remmington?”

You could smell the brandy on his breath, but there was something else too, something you couldn’t make out.

“Quite fevered,” you whispered.

Simon took another deep inhale of your skin then moaned.

“Goodness, you smell of roses, night jasmine and--,” he inhaled again. “Orange blossom. You smell like my best dreams, Ms. Remmington.”

Your breath hitched. Simon came closer and closer until his lips hovered over yours. You should have moved and chastised him about impropriety, but you stood there while the hand that was at the middle of your back slid lower and lower until you felt his fingertips pressing into the flesh just above the swell of your bottom. The action brought your lower half firmly against his. You didn’t know what you felt, but it was something. His lips only slightly grazed yours before you’d heard voices approaching you. He’d been the one to pull away from you first and apologize profusely before he’d walked off, leaving you pressed against the wall of roses that was right behind you.

“Already hiding from your husband?”

You opened your eyes and saw your best friend, Tessa, standing there with a teasing smirk.

“Tessa.”

You began to stand, but she stopped you, sitting beside you instead.

“Your grace,” she said.

Scoffing, you bumped her with your shoulder. “Oh, stop it. Do not tease me. I am still Jemilla. I will hear no nonsense of your grace from you.”

“I know you are Jemi, but you are also a Duchess now. It would be faulty to not acknowledge it, especially in public, at least once.”

You sighed and fiddled with the new ring on your finger underneath your white gloves.

“We are not in public now. It is just you, and I so do away with it.”

“Very well.” Tessa remained quiet for a few seconds before she turned to you with an excited smile. “All right, show it to me.”

You pulled off the glove and showed her the wedding ring Simon had placed on your finger earlier in the day. Tessa gasped, grabbed your hand, and brought it closer to her face.

“Oh my. I dare say the Duke has excellent taste. It is quite beautiful. While most husbands give their wives one jewel, yours had bestowed you a bevy.”

You snorted and looked out into the night while she continued to gawk at the bauble.

“So why are you out here and your new husband nowhere in sight?”

You bit your bottom lip then looked at her. You’d told her everything that had happened between you and Simon. You’d told her the reason your engagement was so quick and that there was no love between you and him.

“Oh come, come, Jemi. I know you wanted to marry for love and desire and passion, but just because your marriage did not start that way does not mean it cannot end up there,” Tessa suggested.

“Tessa, be realistic. I have told you the things he has said about marriage. He came to town with no intent on marriage.”

“And look, he is married now, in mere weeks no less. Jemi, a man will say all sorts of things to prevent something, but from this day on, he is yours.”

It was then you thought back to his words by the fireplace.

“And how many tolls have you collected, your grace?

“Plenty, but remember one needn’t make it an all-night occasion. Five minutes or so in a parlor could suffice.”

You could have laughed out loud, but you didn’t. He hadn’t been yours before, and you doubted he was now.

“Tonight is your wedding night. Perhaps you shall feel differently in the morning,” Tessa said, a broad smile spread across her face.

You knew what she was insinuating. You had heard the chatter of a woman’s wedding night but had heard nothing of consequence. All you and Tessa were left with were speculation and plenty of possible theories and fantasies. Tessa stood and held out her arm for yours. After slipping your glove back on, you looped your arm with hers and allowed her to lead you back into the ballroom.

Once you were seen, your mother approached you and swiftly brought you towards your new husband, then enticed him to dance with you for all the ton to see. Simon, of course, complied, and the two of you drew every pair of eyes. Rather than looking directly at him, you kept your eyes somewhere neutral, somewhere that it would appear to others you were staring into his eyes.

“Remember what I said to you the first time we danced like this?”

“We’ve never danced like this, your grace.”

“You are right; our titles, or rather your title, has changed but are we not the same people?”

You fell into the trap and met his eyes.

“Are we, your grace?”

Simon peered deeply into your eyes as if he were looking for that very answer.

“I am told we have our entire lives to figure it out.”

Feeling your face beginning to shift to give away your inner feelings, you looked away, back to his ear.

“Stare into my eyes.”

They were words he’d said before, in the exact manner. You ignored his instruction, though the urge to obey pulled at your willfulness.

“Jemilla,” Simon said in a low, deep voice.

“Stare into my eyes.”

You caved and darted your eyes to his. Simon held it for a few moments.

“If this is to work, we must appear madly in love,” he said.

The words garnered almost the same reaction as it had the first time he’d uttered them. The only difference was you were well aware that appearances were not nearly all that they seemed. It had worked a little too well, and now you were married and so far from madly in love.

By the end of the evening, your feet hurt from all the walking around and dancing, and your head throbbed slightly, probably from the music and being unable to eat even one bite due to the anxiousness that had plagued you all day. After you’d said your goodbyes to your siblings, mother, and friends, you climbed into the carriage with Simon, unsure just where you were heading. You didn’t pay too much attention to the darkness outside the window because your head was too caught up in thoughts of what was to come.

You fiddled with your gloved hands, your bouquet that you’d nearly stroked all buds from all in an effort to take your mind off of things. After thirty minutes in the bumpy carriage, you saw a large tree pass by. You looked around you, trying to figure out where you were.

“Where—where are we?”

“One of my estates, Briarvale, Simon answered.

“Briarvale. I thought we were going to Clyvedon?”

“No, Clyvedon is quite far, much too far to travel tonight. Briarvale is the in-between point. We will stop, rest for the night, then continue on and should reach Clyvedon by late afternoon next.”

You nodded and lowered your eyes. “I should have made you aware of the plans before. I am afraid I am so used to consulting no one I did not stop to realize I now might have to. I apologize.”

He didn’t sound angry about it, just remorseful. Maybe he was being sincere. When the carriage stopped, the jarvey opened the door and helped you out. Some torches lit the entire walk path to the front door, where two servants were standing at either side of the door. Simon stepped out beside you and cleared his throat.

“After you, your grace.”

You walked ahead while taking in the large home before you. It was two times bigger than the one you’d spent half of your life in, and you imagined Cleyvdon would be four times larger than this one. You never imagined marrying this wealthy. Wealth was never one of your concerns at all.

“Welcome, your graces.”

You and Simon walked inside into the foyer.

“I will let you get settled,” Simon said before walking off, leaving you standing there and wondering where he was going.

One of the maids led you through the house to the stairs. As you climbed them, you took in the paintings on the wall and the wood’s shine. It was a well-kept residence. A few minutes later, the maid stopped in front of a door.

“Your room, your grace.”

“Thank you. what is your name?”

She looked surprised by your question, but she still answered. “Ingrid, your grace.”

“Thank you, Ingrid.”

She smiled and bowed her head, and waited for you to walk inside. When you did, the fire was crackling, making the large room very inviting.

“Is everything to your liking, your grace?”

You nodded. “Thank you, yes.”

Ingrid nodded, then walked out of the room, leaving you with your thoughts. You knew he would come, so you waited. You took the time to look around the room at the different paintings and objects and even examining the material of the sheets on the bed. Still, Simon hadn’t appeared. That was when your pacing began and did not stop. After pacing for quite a while, you finally stopped, then took off your shoes and waited some more. When another ten minutes passed with no Simon, you peeled off your stockings but hesitated to remove any more articles of clothing.

When you were sure you’d waited an hour more, you got annoyed and walked to the door. As soon as you opened it you saw one of the maids passing.

“Hello there.”

The young woman turned, startled, then dipped down to a bow.

“Your grace, is something the matter?”

You were embarrassed even to ask her this. “No, nothing is wrong. Have you—do you know where—has his grace retired for the evening?”

The maid gave you a curious look. No doubt she was thinking that you should know better than her. He was your husband, after all.

“Uh—no, ma’am. His grace is still in the study. Would you like me to deliver a message?”

“No! No. Thank you.”

You went back into the room, closed the door, and sighed out. She undoubtedly found it strange, and you worried you’d be the gossip of the house in the morning. You began undressing as you’d done plenty of times before then climbed into bed, leaving your petticoat on. Instead of going to sleep right away, you sat up and waited.

You didn’t know what was going on or what to expect, and that was the part that gave you the most anxiety and distress. After another hour, it was clear to see that Simon was not coming. You didn’t know what to think or feel. The very little you’d been told to expect still made no sense, especially since it hadn’t happened. Or had it? Your mother told you that your husband would take the lead. Had Simon taken the lead by staying away?

After going over it tens of times in your head, you snuffed out the candle that was on its last inch of life and lay down to stare at the upper canopy of the bed.

You were married, but his actions had proven the line was drawn, and you were on opposite sides with chasms between you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

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@shar74nettt @soapjay @ashanti-notthesinger @caramara3 @caplover22@blackpinup22 @areubeingserved @your-chaotic-neutral @zejess93 @reignandrain @ovohanna24 @ramp-it-up @littlepreciousangel @msblkfire84 @id-do-it-for-free-babe @my-rosegold-soul @sadthotsonlylove @arination99 @wondersofdreaming @veganvampre @ohsoverykeri @mery-be

#pleasing the duke fic #rege jean page fanfiction #the duke of hastings fanfiction #regency fanfic #the duke of hastings x ofc #bridgerton fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

Throne of Blood (3/3)

Hello there! Last part of Throne of Blood, I hope you appreciated this little serie! I loved t write it tbh, it was a nice change from the usual DC stuff I write. If you want a bonus chapter, let me know! I thought about doing either a prequel for when they invaded the castle, or some headcanons if y’all have some.

Ps: I realised I kinda made Bruce to be the bad guy here, oops. Sorry about that, but to my defence, family drama was something I built toward from the beginning 😅 Full disclosure, I have nothing against Bruce and Damian pls don’t come at me

Masterlist in bio / pinned!

Pairing: King!Jason x reader x Roy

Word count: 4414

Warnings: same as the last parts (cautious nsfw) + family drama lmao

"--and the might of the casc… cascade could never compare to the ce… cerul… cerulean of her eyes. She was his hope, the only thing he cherished, none of his posse...ssions could ever be worth as much as a minute with her"

You paused to breathe as you reached a paragraph break. You could feel Roy's relaxed stare on you, a small smile ever present on his lips. His hand was absentmindedly rubbing your knees that were lying over his thigh, while his other arm was snugly wrapped around your waist. The quiet crackling of the fireplace indicated the need to add a log, but neither of you wanted to move from your nestled position. Eventually one would have to, though, before the room grew cold.

"I like it when you read to me" Roy hummed, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But if you knew one thing about him, it's that he carried very little shame when it came to love. He would never intend to hide his thoughts when they came, and you admired that about him. Still, you couldn't help but look down in embarrassment.

Him and Jason had taught you to read some months after you joined them, when he passed you a map to find a town's name and you had to tell him you couldn't. Ever since, you worked often on your reading skills, leafing through whatever seemed interesting from Jason's library. But you weren't a natural, far from it.

"I can't even pronounce all the words correctly" You mumbled. "It must be hard to follow sometimes"

He gently pushed your chin up so he could look into your eyes again. It didn't matter for one second for him that you didn't have the diction of an erudit or the flow of a poet. All he wanted was to hear your voice and watch your eyebrows knit in concentration when you butted on a difficult word. He liked the little things so much better than the finished product.

"I think it sounds perfect"

The corner of your lips rose slightly at his praise as your heart skipped a few beats. Even after all the time you spent together, he always managed to find the right word to make you love him even more, if it was possible. His constant and unconditional support was your crutch, the thing you could rely on no matter what happened, the safe space in which you would never feel judged for what you couldn't do.

"You know" He began again when he noticed you had trouble believing what he said. You wanted to believe him, but deep inside he knew it was harder for you, and he understood all too well the feeling of not being enough. "I couldn't read either before I was taken in by my warden"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning slightly. You had never known.

"Took me years to get average at it. And you should have seen my writing-- Hell, you should see it now, it's catastrophic"

You couldn't help but giggle along as he laughed. It was contagious.

"It's the same with Jason--No wait, the brat actually taught himself how to read somehow" He blinked slowly, like he was still surprised by it. You weren't really, you knew Jason was even smarter than you were aware of. Than anyone was aware of. "But his writing was terrible until he got a proper tutor, that I know of for a fact"

"But his writing is so…" You trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Exquisite"

"Now who's pulling out the big words, uh?"

"Shut up" You laughed, lightly hitting his chest with the book. “Don’t mock me”

“I’m not!” He argued, giving you wide, innocent eyes. He looked too cute for his own sake. “I swear I’m not. You’re just adorable when you get all flustered”

“We better start gearing up now” You evaded the subject, clearing your throat. “Jason will be expecting us--”

“Just one more chapter” He interrupted softly, caressing your waist. “Please?”

You held his stare for a moment before you were convinced, and you nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. You opened the book to the page you had marked and found the paragraph you had stopped to.

“As he was sitting by the window, he couldn’t help but think about the ar-arrival of the spring, only a few weeks away if nature de...cided to be kind--”

“My Lord, my Lady”

You paused your reading and looked up. This time, it was Roy who looked the most annoyed of the two of you.

“It’s time”

You sighed and nodded, putting down the book on the table. Roy was clearly disappointed, but he helped you nevertheless get back on your feet, being careful not to pull on your bandages too much. You were healing well for your condition, you could now walk around and sit down without much help. Still, Roy and Jason didn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own for too long, just in case someone tried to come for you. You definitely couldn’t wield your axes just yet, so it made you an easy target even if you weren’t bed ridden anymore.

You walked out of the chamber beside Roy, him following your slower pace without complaint. You reached the other end of the hallways and entered another room with chests and racks, where your equipment was kept. You began putting on your suit, the one you had made when you rode beside the Red Hood, well before he was king. It was all black with a red pointed arch on the chest that imitated Jason’s sigil, which was outlined with a single silver following your collarbone. It rose up the back of your neck and was reinforced to protect your vitals.

“Could you help me pull it up, please?”

Roy nodded as he finished to lace his arm braces, stepping right behind you. He picked the stiff fabric and gently tugged it over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin along the way. He was even more careful with your injured shoulder, making sure it wasn’t bent in any way to fit through the suit. He and Jason had advised against you wearing it, but you were stubborn and refused to show weakness in front of the enemy. Besides, it looked great on you. Roy then buttoned up the suit on your back and up your neck before giving you a kiss on the temple.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a little something for you” He whispered in your eyes, and despite your initial confusion, you did as you were told and shut your eyes. You felt something being passed over your head and gently rest on your shoulders, then straps being adjusted on your sides. “You can open the now”

You did as he said and looked down as he gently directed you to the mirror on your left. He had placed a beautiful piece of equipment that paired well with the colors of your suit, lightweight and practical, that covered your shoulders front and back. You usually went without, but it was appropriate considering another arrow in the back would do you no good right now. And since you most probably wouldn’t be using your axes anyway, you could do without your full shoulder movements range.

“Where did you get this?” You asked as you trailed your finger on the skillfully crafted metal. There was no doubt it had been made for you by how it fit with both your body and suit. It must have cost a fortune.

“The blacksmith in town, the one living near the gates of the castle” He began. “His son was killed by the guild of thieves that lived uptown, the ones we wiped off right after the undertaking. He wanted to thank us somehow, and when he learned about what happened to you, he made this as a present”

“It’s… Very beautiful” You breathed out. “I’ll have to thank him later on. This must have taken so much time to make”

“But you deserve it” He said as he placed a light kiss on your jaw. “You deserve the best. And the best suits you”

“Thank you” You nodded, taking his hand. The leather of his archery glove was rough against your skin, but it had also become a comfort born from the endless days you spent training and hunting on the road. It was tied to some of your best memories with him, and it still amazed you how a simple touch could bring it all back vividly like that. “Come on, Jason must be waiting for us”

You went down to the court, where Jason was talking with the commander and some generals. Upon hearing your footsteps, he perked up and turned around, taking you specifically in. He smiled and nodded, heading for the three black steeds, groomed and in full armor, in the hands of the stable hands. You followed him and grabbed the reins of your mount, carefully climbing on its back and sitting in the saddle.

“Are we ready?” Jason asked.

“Of course” Roy replied first, then both of their eyes set on you.

“Let’s do this” You nodded firmly.

With a kick of your heels, you took off the court and onto the bridge, in the direction of the Wayne Kingdom.

---

“Soooooo…” Roy trailed off. “Do you think he stood us up or..?”

You looked away from the horizon and to Roy, who was slouched over the pommel of the saddle while his horse was trying to dig for grass through the snow. “Maybe he’s trying to ambush us”

“I don’t think so” Jason mumbled, his eyes still set northwest. His back was straight with a hand resting on his hips, the other holding the reins tight. His horse was attentive, chewing on its bit in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be like him, not while we’re on this hill anyway”

You nodded as your fingers flexed around the reins, a bit bored and definitely not impressed by the opposite party being late to their own meeting. There was barely any wind over the field, and the thick cover of the cloud didn’t let the sun rays through. Still, smoke came out of the horses’ nostrils with every breath they let out.

“There they come”

You glanced forward again at Jason’s warning, seeing a small party of riders coming your way. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, walking rather than trying to reach you at a trot. The closer they came, the better you could point out characteristics for each rider. The one at the front was wearing all black with a cape that fell over the pale gray horse he was riding. It was almost white, but the dark skin around its eyes and nose proved differently. The second rider was on a smaller chestnut horse, and was a child. You blinked a few times, but his youthful features were obvious. The two other riders some paces behind were an escort, soldiers with steel armors and banners from their kingdom.

After a long waiting for them to actually be at hearing range, they finally stopped a few meters ahead and assessed your party. Jason was visibly tense, but his blue eyes gave nothing out on how he was feeling about seeing his father in front of him after all this time. They stared at each other for long minutes before the piercing glance of Bruce Wayne set on you. You clenched your jaw, not backing down, until his eyes finally left you.

“Your… Friend seems to have healed quite well” The older king spoke first.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck” Jason sneered. “You were the one who made this coward attack on her happen in the first place”

“Watch your mouth, runt” The child on the side almost barked. “You’re speaking to a legitimate King, unlike you”

“And who the fuck might this goblin be?” Roy said before he could stop himself. While the child looked appalled, Roy was still very relaxed on his horse. He might have been the only one to be, even if you did want to laugh at the outburst.

“I am the blood son, the true heir to the throne” He replied with all his might, except it didn’t quite have the desired effect, since he was on a pony, for one. “You peasant will respect me, or--”

“Damian, please” Bruce interrupted firmly. “Now is not the time to settle this”

“But--”

“Why am I not surprised that you fathered a brat?” Jason leaned forward, feeling taunting for a moment. “Which one of your concubines had enough bad luck to get pregnant? Selina? Or was it Richard’s lover, whatever was her name? Or maybe Talia, oh memorable Talia--”

“Don’t speak of my mother that way” Damian pulled his sword out.

“So Talia it is” He smirked.

“We are here to negotiate peace, not fuel a war” Bruce replied sternly. “I can do much worse than an arrow in the shoulder of a loved one, you know it. So be careful what you’re advancing about my family”

“Then keep your son on a tighter leash” Jason said, his face returning to a serious expression. “I still haven’t made my mind about keeping peace, don’t give me reasons to leave this meeting before we can discuss it”

“I should be telling you this” He squinted his eyes slightly. “You have thrown over a stable ally of this kingdom and stole the crown, then taken prisoner the King of Blüdhaven without giving a follow up on his state. You are in no place to threaten a war, yet here you are”

Jason waited a few seconds, not letting his stare waver. Then, he sighed and whistled. The plains were silent, until the faint sound of hooves cantering on the crisp snow grew closer to your position. Soon enough, you were passed on your left by another rider, slowly walking around you and toward Bruce’s party. Dick had a neutral expression as he turned around, stopping at Bruce’s side.

“Here” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Your golden son, unharmed albeit slightly vexed”

“You should still pay for a crime like this” Bruce said.

“It’s fine” Dick tried to appease the tensions. “I do not wish to further this conflict, I have done enough already as it is”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Richard?” Damian asked in a judging and accusatory tone. “This is a disgrace to our family, and a display of weakness--”

“I was trying to avoid a much worse escalation of this conflict by owning a diplomatic mistake I made in the first place” He bit back. “What would you even know of politics, spoiled child?”

Roy laughed, and the sound only seemed to anger Damian more. You were in the middle of a family conflict, and unlike him, you didn’t know this side of the family well. You didn’t really know how to act, so you observed what would go down rather than actively participate.

“I find the ginger man’s insolence unwelcomed in this matter” Damian said, trying to wash down the humiliation his brother had just handed to him. “He’s got nothing to do with it, and he’s got no title. He shouldn’t even be speaking”

“He speaks because I say he can” Jason defended Roy in a heartbeat, his tone strong and authoritative. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a crown and you don’t, which puts me above you in status and therefore my wishes outweigh yours”

Your eyebrow rose slowly as your eyes met Roy’s, who had an equally stunned expression. Jason had never used his status against anyone like that. It even seemed to take Damian by surprise, which was, with what you had learned about him in the last minutes, a hard feat to accomplish. If you were honest with yourself, while you loved Jason as a humble king, you were curious about the other side of him, even if he would show it in private.

“Your crown was stolen” Bruce reassessed. “The Kingdoms surrounding yours have decided this gesture would not stand. I wished a peaceful surrender from you, but it doesn’t seem like I will convince you to do so. You have three days to abdicate, until the next full moon, or your kingdom will be taken back by force”

“You think this is wise?” You finally spoke up on instinct, and all eyes turned to you, looking at you with surprise. You weren’t about to let those threats stand, especially not from Bruce. “Ever since King Jason came into power, he wiped out a guild that stole from families and murdered good people. Our kingdom is the safest for miles around, so much we get waves of new settlers even in winter. He lowered taxes on the population so much that most towns in the country have become flourishing trade posts in the span of a year, and instead taxed the nobility and cut on useless balls and dinners. Nobody starved last winter, and nobody is starving this one. Do you think the word didn’t get out to the other countries around? People are starting to want this for themselves too, and you think putting them through a devastating war will make things better? It will only make them resent you, those who didn’t already. We have people in every castle you know of who are ready to turn against you the second they get wind of aggression--”

“Bullshit” Damian called.

“Are you ready to take the risk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, before returning your glance to Bruce, who betrayed no emotion. “You will lose this war if you start it. You should consider your people before you send them to slaughter”

Silence fell over the hill for a moment.

“... What she said” Roy grinned, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked at Jason for a reaction, or most likely, some sort of opposition to what you had just said. Instead, he only readjusted his reins and straightened his back. “You heard right,” He said, not wavering. “You have three days, until the next moon, to annulate the warrants and back down. Think about your people, Bruce. Make the right decision”

With that mocking reprise of his father’s previous words, he turned his horse around and left him dumbfounded. With one last glance to their party, you followed Jason, trotting, then cantering away and back into your borders. Once you passed your soldiers’ road control, you slowed down to a walk.

“Huh” Roy exhaled as he leaned forward to glance at you over Jason’s horse between you two. “I didn’t know we had spies in other kingdoms”

“Now that I think about it,” Jason blinked a few times, his brows slightly furrowed. “Neither did I”

You shrugged. “Maybe we have them. That would be neat”

You saw confusion, then astonishment flash in their eyes like their reactions were synchronized.

“Wait, did you just--”

“Did you fucking lie to Bruce in his face?” Roy cut off, almost yelling. Then, he laughed. “In his face?”

“By the time he realizes, no, if he even realizes I bluffed, we’ll have a solid plan to ward him off, no matter what he does” You explained. “We win”

“How did you manage to convince him?” Jason had an innocent incomprehension written all over his features, like a child in front of a magic trick. He was adorable. “You had me convinced”

“Oh, boys” You grinned. “You think women survive this long in the world without becoming excellent liars? How do you think I managed to infiltrate the staff for a week before we invaded the castle?”

“By… Um” Roy trailed off. “Cleaning well?”

You laughed. “People had questions, my dear. I had to build myself a credible life to feed them, so I wasn’t thrown out of the castle instantly. Lying to the enemy is a skill I learned to cultivate a long time ago”

“You’re awesome, you know that?” He sighed, a loopy smile on his face. Jason still had a starstruck expression on his face, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, I must admit” You teased back, jutting your chin up. “But there is one thing that would be better… Last one in the bedroom owes the first one a shoulder massage”

You didn’t wait for them to register your words before kicking your horse to a gallop, no doubt closely followed by them.

---

The dancing light of the candles of the chandelier left a soft glow on your naked skin, moving around and spreading warmth as it crawled up and down your body. You were sitting upright as hands moved gently on your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive area of your still healing wound. In your laps was Jason’s head, your hands threading slowly in his black hair as his eyes were shut close. He wasn’t sleeping, his breathing made his chest rise too fast for him to be. But he was relaxed, his neck muscles were untensed on your legs and there were no harsh lines on his face.

You looked behind you when Roy’s hand stopped massaging, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck.

“You really gotta get a faster horse” Your lips curved upwards. “You’re always losing these races”

“I think my horse’s speed is just fine” He whispered back. “Besides, you are both right where I want you to be”

Jason smirked. “Losing is always suddenly part of someone’s plan when they never win”

“Laugh all you want” He sighed, dramatically laying down on his side beside you, then leaning forward close to Jason’s ear. “We all know I end up winning anyway when you beg my name like a prayer, My King”

You could feel the shiver travel up his spine on your laps, as well as the sudden shift in the tension in his muscles. You played along and let your hand slightly pull his hair, which surprised a moan out of him. His eyes opened wide, the blue of his irises being quickly consummated by the black of his pupils. Then, his glance set on Roy, something hard to read beside the promising spark in it.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a, what, fourth go at it today?” He raised an eyebrow as his hand brushed his cheek. “I didn’t think you jaw recovered from earlier”

You laughed airily as Roy grinned mischievously. “Maybe you can take that voice when you put that brat child in its place” You suggested as you trailed up your hand up Jason’s bare chest. “I’m sure he would be happy to get back on his knees if you did”

Roy groaned at the suggestion, already imagining the whole scene behind his fluttering eyelids. However, Jason didn’t quite follow up on his reaction. “Don’t tempt me with…” He trailed off, then noticed the mood change. “Hey, is there something wrong?”

Jason blinked, then shook his head and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine” He muttered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roy’s lips.

“No, something’s bothering you” He insisted gently. “What is it, Jay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing” He replied, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it”

“It’s clearly not nothing” You said as your hands threaded softly in his hair. “What’s eating at you?”

A silence followed your words. It was like Jason was searching for the right words, like he wanted to say it so bad but something else was holding him back. You were patient, however, and you didn’t mind that he took his time to tell you. You knew he would talk when he’s ready.

“It’s what Bruce said” Roy beat him to it, speaking barely over a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

You looked in between the two men, noticing how Jason did not deny Roy’s words. It was like they were having a silent conversation for a few seconds, before Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s how he didn’t see him as part of his family anymore” Roy spoke up, addressing you this time. “How Bruce didn’t seem to have any regret about replacing him in any way possible”

“Even after all this time” Jason gulped. “He won’t even stop reminding me he didn't care”

“Oh, my love” You reached for his hand and grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with his and giving it a squeeze. “He doesn’t deserve you beating yourself up about him like that. You’re worth so much more than anything he could even give you”

“She’s right,” Roy nodded. “We’re your family now, not him. Not him ever again. And I promise you we’ll never betray you that way, we’ll never set you aside. You’re our lover, you’re our King, you’re the most important person for us, and we would do anything for you”

You could see the crystal gleam of tears pooling in his eyes before he blinked them away, resisting the urge to break down. Jason had not often known true affection until he met Roy, then you. He felt like he didn’t deserve either of you, and sometimes he wondered why exactly you decided everyday to stay by his side. But you did stay, you did support him and guided him when he needed it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near where he was right now without you.

“You’re both so good to me” He whispered, adoration clear in his voice as he glanced at you, then Roy. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be wonderful either way” You smiled as you slipped beside him, careful not to pull on your bandages. Soon enough, Roy joined him on the other side, snuggling into him. “You’d miss on major cuddling, however”

His chest rose in a silent chuckle as he pulled you and Roy just a little bit closer. “Give yourselves more credit, I’d crash and burn without you both by my side”

“Let’s not bother with what ifs, yeah?” Roy replied, his lips curved upward as he kissed his shoulder. “It only matters that you’re here with us today, and that you are a damn good King. The rest doesn’t matter”

“The rest doesn’t matter” Jason repeated in a mutter, nodding lightly. “Only you. Only us”

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the-pontiac-bandit · 4 years

Note

If you're still answering tortall prompts, how about Raoul + family?

wow why NOT write 2000 words of blatant, shameless fluff about families you make for yourself??? inspired by this quote from tammy: “[Raoul and Buri] have glorious sex under trees, in tents, in lakes…. In carriages. I think at some point they’ll probably adopt. By the time they’re attached Buri’s getting a little old to have any of her own. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of orphans around.”

As Raoul stretched out, trying to make himself comfortable in his too-hard, too-small desk chair, he savored the warm feeling filling his chest and threatening to spill out and take physical form in front of him. In the midst of the most head-spinning, headache-inducing, sleep-sapping, joy-filled week he’d ever experienced, he’d had precious little time to slow down and simply exist within his new reality. He thought to close his eyes, the better to feel everything, but they only stayed shut for a moment before they forced themselves back open. He couldn’t stop looking at the scene in front of him for long.

Buri lounged cross-legged on their bed, far more relaxed than he had been at any point this week. Kel sat next to her, her back straight and her long legs carefully hanging off one side so as not to get dust from the practice courts on their bedding. Both had just returned from a full morning of training, sweaty despite a change of clothes and coated in dust despite a thorough washing, courtesy of a long, hot summer that had refused to give them rain.

Between them was the baby.

His son, he reminded himself. He thought the words a few extra times, even mouthing them once, as he had a thousand times in the last five days, as if forming them on his lips might make them feel more real.

None of this felt real to him yet. He supposed most people had nine months to get used to the idea before seven pounds of screaming chaos turned their lives upside down. He’d had exactly fifty-three days—he’d counted on Tuesday—so he supposed he still had some catching up to do. His mind was still reeling from the conversation that had led them here, and he wasn’t sure yet that he’d ever catch up.

He’d been sitting in this chair and pretending to read reports while mostly thinking about his right knee, which had been bothering him despite Duke Baird’s best efforts. He wasn’t sure why he remembered so specifically, since his days were nearly as certain to contain aches and bruises as they were to contain a sunrise. Buri had returned from a meeting with Thayet and Onua, although really, the word meeting conferred far too much dignity on what was more likely a combination of trick riding and palace gossip. They’d settled into the evening routine they’d shared for nearly a decade, working in comfortable silence with candles lit between them.

“Do you want children?” she’d asked, breaking the quiet spell of paperwork that gripped their nights.

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he’d replied with a snort.

She’d thrown a pillow at him. He had caught it and thrown it back without even looking up from the thick stack of papers in his lap, with a rude hand gesture following behind.

“You know what I meant. Did you want children? Before?”

Something in her voice had shifted. He’d finally looked up to find her eyes already trained on him. Her face had been so unexpectedly earnest that he’d actually taken a pause, had slowed the speed of their consistently paced banter, to think.

“I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought. There were friends, and then there was drinking, and then there was the Own, and then there was you,” he’d told her with a shrug. “I do like children, but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

She’d chewed on her lip for a moment. He remembered being surprised by that. After nearly thirty years of friendship, she rarely took the time to think before she spoke with him anymore.

“Spit it out.”

“Do you want children?”

“And we’re back to the start,” he’d said with a grin.

“I spat it out. Now you answer it.”

“Hypothetically, sure, I’d enjoy a child. Now can I ask why you’re asking at all?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she’d started. She’d paused for a moment, holding her breath as though she was trying to decide whether she should speak at all. And then she’d let it all spill out at once. “I’ve been thinking it might be nice to have one. A child, I mean.”

She’d held up a hand and made a face before Raoul could even begin to formulate a joke about her monthlies or her aching hips or what they might do to make that happen. “Not like that. Thayet was telling us today about homes they’re opening in Corus, for children without parents. We were thinking about the children we traveled with back in Sarain, when Alanna found us all those years ago. Gods, it was terrifying, having Thayet and an infant to protect, especially when Thayet was ready to throw her life away for the infant. And I started thinking—we have money, and safety, and love, and there are all these children who have none of those things, and—”

She’d been speaking faster and faster, but she’d cut herself off abruptly at the look on Raoul’s face. “Never mind, you can forget—”

Raoul had smiled back at her, straightening up in his chair and marking his spot in the report on his lap before putting it aside. “So you want a child.”

The weeks that followed had been ones filled with paperwork and inquiries at the palace records about the process of appointing a common-born heir to a noble house and at the magistrate’s about drawing up paperwork for adoption. There had been careful planning and hushed discussions with only their closest friends about the best way to proceed. Buri had insisted on an older child, maybe eight or nine, saying that the few diapers she’d changed on the road to Rachia were enough for a lifetime.

Instead, five days ago, Buri had entered their rooms carrying a squalling mess of blankets with an air of forced nonchalance that had told him immediately what she’d done. Instead of clarifying, or teasing her, or asking if it was the smallest eight-year-old he’d ever seen, he’d simply held his arms out. While Buri had supplied endless explanations about Thayet ambushing her with a baby, he’d stared at the squirming mess of baby in his lap, blankets already coming undone, absolutely entranced.

“He’s tiny,” he’d commented. His voice sounded like it was coming from someone else’s body. The baby was only just too large for him to hold in one hand, although he’d never try to prove it. The fragility of the life sitting in his lap was overwhelming.

“His mother died yesterday. Childbed fever, caught too late to help. The priestesses at the Goddess’ Temple were worried he might need more than the homes could give.”

Raoul had nodded, only half listening. The baby’s eyes were screwed shut while he wailed. His fine hair was dark, his skin tanned like that of the Bazhir babies Raoul had seen in his year in the Great Southern Desert. One of the baby’s hands had broken free of its blanket. It had waved in the air, keeping pace with his cries, which were far louder than he’d have believed such a tiny body could produce. He’d intercepted the hand with one finger and then watched in wonder as the baby had grasped it.

“Does he have a name?”

“Pathom,” she’d answered definitively, before belatedly remembering that names were the sort of thing parents might choose together. “That is, if—”

“Pathom of Goldenlake,” he’d cut her off with a smile.

The days that followed had been a blur. Thayet had found a wet-nurse and supplied an endless stream of goods that they’d have never known a baby required. Alanna had ridden in from Pirate’s Swoop at full speed to pronounce in a gruff voice that the infant was in perfect health. Gary had gifted them a bassinet and more blankets than any human child could possibly need. Dom had found a way to convert a standard-issue burnoose into an excellent baby sling, while Evin had given them a congratulatory note from George, who complained that Alanna had left before he could finish writing, and a cheerful promise that he’d never touch a soiled diaper. Onua had given them a set of unimaginably soft stuffed ponies, perfect replicas of the horses that roamed the highlands of Sarain where she and Buri had learned to ride.

Kel, away on business with Second Company at the Gallan border, had to wait almost a full week to learn she had a new godsson. He’d met the company when they’d arrived back at the palace long past dark the night before. They’d groomed Hoshi and Sparrow together while he thanked the gods for perhaps the hundredth time that her “testy pony” had finally found his way out of the Own stables and into a pleasant retirement.

Finally, when the last of the men had trudged towards the barracks and a well-earned nights’ sleep, she’d turned to him.

“Well?”

“There’s someone important I want you to meet,” he’d said, shoving his hands in his pockets with a smile that was equal parts nervous and eager.

“Sir, I’ve already met your wife.”

Raoul had let out a hearty chuckle. “But you haven’t met my son.”

Kel had frozen. Her face fell back into perfect stillness, the way it did when her mind was working its fastest.

After a second that felt like an eternity, she replied, “Sir, I saw Buri five weeks ago. If you’re telling me you’ve managed to grow a baby since then—”

“We didn’t, but someone else did. We adopted him from the Temple after his mother died in childbirth.”

Understanding flashed in Kel’s eyes while her face broke into a rare broad grin. She’d wrapped her arms around him in a fast, tight hug accompanied by enthusiastic congratulations that had gone suddenly silent in surprise when he’d added, a wicked glint in his eyes, “You really should come by tomorrow to meet your godsson.”

Buri had intercepted Kel on the practice courts the following morning with the dual goals of keeping her own skills sharp and ensuring that Kel would not be too polite to visit. And so now, he watched as Kel bounced his son with the brisk certainty of someone who had held a baby a thousand times. He could hear her cooing quietly at Pathom, softening her consonants while she told him all about forest campaigns in hill country. He knew he should ask her to speak up—if she was going to give her report verbally, she could at least give it at a volume he could hear—but he found he wasn’t particularly interested in the intricacies of the Second’s bowstring supplies. Buri made eye contact with him behind Kel’s back, laughter in her eyes. Buri could laugh if she wanted, but he was taking notes on Kel’s tactics. He would have sworn this was the quietest he’d heard his son in the entirety of his hundred-and-twenty-odd hours in the palace.

As his son stared wide-eyed at his former squire, Raoul was reminded of a comment he’d heard as they’d left Turomot’s offices the other day with paperwork making Pathom officially their own. “Well, that feckless Goldenlake dolt’s managed to start a family, even if it was too late to do the thing properly,” the Lord of Genlith had muttered at their backs as they’d left. Buri had elbowed him and whispered a quick “Feckless? I’ll show him feckless,” but her heart wasn’t in it. Before she’d even finished the thought, her eyes were back on Pathom, squirming against her chest in the burnoose that bound him to her.

And now, Raoul watched his son, passed between his wife and the woman who had been like his daughter long before any papers said he was a father. Stuffed Saren ponies lined the shelf above an intricately carved bassinet filled with beautifully embroidered blankets. A protection charm had been pulled from Alanna’s packs to hang at the head, while twin leather circles bearing the insignias of the Riders and the Own, no doubt carefully cut by mischievous commanders from the saddle packs of some unprepared trainees, was secured carefully at the foot. Raoul had to smile for a moment at Genlith’s ignorance—he’d begun his family right on time.

#carrie answers #my writing #anonymous #raoul of goldenlake and malorie's peak #raoul of goldenlake #buriram tourakom #tortall #tamora pierce #protector of the small #keladry of mindelan #okay we've got all the found family shit in here #the friends? check #the surrogate daughter? check #adoption? check #also who said a baby can't have three godsmothers definitely not buri and raoul #also on ao3

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epicseptic · 3 years

Text

Erseptyl AU

This part one of a 3 part prologue for one of my aus. I won’t give away any details but this is my first time writing anything so its far from perfect ^^’

~~~~~~~~~~

It was early morning and the sun was already high in the sky, its soft rays of light peeking in through the closed curtains. The windows on the far end of the room were tall and let in just enough light to disturb the figure sleeping in the bed on the opposite side. Though the bed was elegantly decorated with drapes and curtains, they proved useless in providing shield against the blinding rays that managed to sneak their way past the windows' protective shades. The figure, who was still asleep, was wrapped up tightly in the wool blankets. They stirred lightly in their sleep and buried their face into the pillows, green hair falling over their face, completely shielding it from sight.

Only moments later, the door to the room opened and in walked a man dressed very properly in a beige vest and bow tie. His white dress shirt was without a single wrinkle, and even his moustache was perfectly groomed and curled upward to a fine point. Every detail in his appearance was put together with such delicate attention. With him, he carried in his hand a small tray with a teapot and a single teacup upon a saucer. The fine dishware had beautiful designs that were hand painted and appeared to be very delicate and expensive. The servant, who primarily went by JJ, carefully, and quietly, placed the tray on the nightstand closest to the door, careful not to startle the still slumbering figure. Then, he gently placed a hand on the individual's shoulder and gave it a soft shake.

Marvin awoke slowly at his touch. "Hmm...?" He hummed tiredly, attempting to open his eyes but immediately regretting it when JJ opened up the curtains, letting the sun mercilessly sting his eyes with it's harsh light. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut again and used his hand to shield them from the rays. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust, he attempted again to look at JJ, who was now pouring a cup of tea beside him. He really did move fast in the mornings. Then again, Marvin always felt like he was stuck in slow motion during the earliest hours of the day.

JJ noticed him awake a few seconds later, flashing him a bright smile to greet him. He set the teapot down on the tray once he was finished pouring it's contents into the fancy cup. The sweet aroma filling Marvin's nostrils already, threatening to further pull him out of the sweet, dark abysmal sleep he so longed to return to.

"Good morning, your Highness" the mute signed with his hands, briefly bowing to the prince respectfully.

With a heavy sigh, Marvin plopped his head back down onto the pillow, clearly disinterested in getting out of bed anytime soon. "Five more minutes, Jamie...." he whined. He was tired of having to wake up early at the same time every day. For once he just wanted to sleep in late without worrying about his responsibilities. The servant raised his brow, clearly unamused. JJ wasn't willing to deal with the young prince's stubbornness this morning, and he responded by placing the teacup right beneath Marvin's nose, letting the warm scent of tea do the talking for him.

He knew there was no way he was going to get any sleep with his favorite, mint tea tempting him out of bed so with a groan of reluctance - and possibly a curse under his breath - Marvin sat up against the pillows and rubbed his eyes, yawning tiredly. Finally, he accepted the tea that JJ had handed to him to help himself wake up. He always started his day with his favorite tea. It was Jameson's idea to use it as bait to get him out of bed each morning. Marvin was known to be uncooperative at times and thanks to how often he tried to sleep in and dodge his duties, this tea was a lifesaver.

While he was busy sipping his tea, JJ was busy by the wardrobe, pulling out a few outfits for him to choose from for the day. Marvin watched him bustle around the room, getting everything ready for him just like he did every morning; laying out his outfits, preparing his hairbrush and hair accessories, finding that cupcake that he had stolen from the kitchens the previous night... Why was JJ not surprised... All Marvin could do was shrug when he gave him a disapproving stare.

Even so, Marvin couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate how hard his valet worked to care for him. Not only was JJ a helpful member of his staff, but he was his best friend; someone that he felt he could trust with even the most personal matters.

JJ waited patiently for him to finish his tea before beckoning him over to the wardrobe where Marvin chose to wear a simple, plain white blouse with frilly cuffs and a corset wrap. He decided that a much simpler outfit would be more appropriate, and comfortable, to complete his duties for the day. His trousers were black and made of a soft fabric and he wore tall boots that came just below the knee and had the usual 4 inch heel he was used to wearing. He preferred shoes that gave him a little boost in height. It was apparent that he had a.... diminutive height. It was something he found to be a rather embarrassing topic if it was ever brought up and actually felt quite insulted that the gods would curse him with such short stature. What kind of king was so small? It seemed even the divines were mocking him.

After helping to get him dressed, JJ allowed him to take a seat in front of the vanity so that he could brush his hair for him. It was filled with tangles and very frizzy. It always looked like a giant, dramatic tumbleweed when he got out of bed in the morning.

While he waited patiently for JJ to take care of his hair, he gazed into the mirror at his reflection, his sky blue eyes meeting the cold icy ones of his doppelganger in the mirror. For a moment, he wore a soft smile on his face but after seeing himself through the glass, that's when suddenly his mind started to wander again, and the smile quickly faded.... He stared into the eyes of his reflection, who only looked back at him with a harsh, lambasting stare of its own. It was only himself in the mirror, he knew that, and yet, it felt like a completely different person was looking back at him, judging him. Judging and criticizing him in any and every aspect....

By now, this was routine for him on most mornings; to remind himself of the burden he was forced to carry. This is how he normally started the day, being hard on himself and chastising himself for not doing better. For not BEING better, but unlike most mornings where he was able to ignore those thoughts, he felt especially troubled today. Today the worries he faced clouded his mind far more than usual and he found that he just couldn't shake them away. He criticised everything about who he was. His appearance, his intelligence, and most of all his worth. He just wasn't good enough. He wasn't "them"...

JJ must've sensed the tension in Marvin's silence but he didn't acknowledge it in fear of putting his friend through even deeper distress. He didn't want to seem intrusive or pull any loose threads. It was known to him that Marvin often preferred to keep quiet about things and not have anyone question him. Making a big deal out of the situation usually stressed him out even more and didn't help to solve the problem. Instead, the best thing to do was let him decide when he was ready to come forward and speak about it. Marvin felt more in control of his situation that way. The servant’s patience was rewarded in a way because it didn't take very much longer for Marvin to decide to open up.

"Do you think I'll ever be like them...?" He questioned, the tone of his voice was so soft that JJ could barely make out what he said. In the reflection of the mirror, his eyes met with the prince's as he gazed at him with bewilderment. Marvin must've noticed because it wasn't long before he spoke up again. "I mean my parents. They left me so early, I don't even know if I'm doing any of this right. All I did was pick up where they left off. And I'm doing my best but I don't know how to be a ruler. How do I know I'm living up to their success...?" By that time, Jamie had finished brushing through his long hair and set the brush down on the table. He approached the side of the stool so that he could make proper eye contact with the prince.

"Fret not, my liege. You are a hard worker and your people respect you for it. That is a great honor and you've earned it well. Your folks would be proud" he signed to him with a gracious smile, hoping to put his Highness at ease. Marvin often doubted himself and JJ knew that about him more than anyone in his staff. It was rather heartbreaking to see someone he truly cared so much about experiencing so much doubt in himself and comparing his own successes to that of others before him. Marvin did lack guidance, there was no doubt, but he was so young and had far too much expectation for himself.

"I suppose you're right..." As he thought about his words, he had to agree that he had a point. He was grateful that his people respected him but at the same it left him with a dreaded feeling of guilt. It was a respect that he wasn't sure he deserved. "But no one ever taught me how to run a whole kingdom... How do I know I am doing this right...?"

"Who's to say? You're doing it your way and it's working. If you ask me, I'd say you're doing just fine...." JJ signed.

On the table just in front of the mirror was a glass display case. He used this moment to open it up and remove a crown littered with jewels that was made specifically for Marvin.

He picked up the golden crown and moved back to his spot behind the stool and placed it gently on Marvin's head, being careful not to set a single hair out of place. Afterwards, he stepped back to admire his work, gazing into the mirror at their reflections to make sure that everything was centered and tidy.

Marvin too admired his own reflection. Before he had received this crown, when he was younger, he used to wear a small, elegant tiara but after he was put in charge he was urged to take the title as King. It was a title that he refused profusely. Perhaps he was afraid of the responsibility or maybe he was still trying to move on from everything that had happened to his parents, but for whatever reason, Marvin kept the title as a mere prince. However, a special crown was made in his honor. A crown fit for a King but not exactly something he felt he deserved. Still, he much preferred this to taking his father's crown.

Aside from it all, he was very much impressed with JJ's ability to seemingly turn anything into perfection. If only he could turn more than a person's appearance into perfection... Marvin knew that Jamie would never want to hurt his feelings, even with the truth, and that's why, sometimes, he could never truly know if he was being honest with him. He knew that he wouldn't hide things from him out of fear, but rather, he hid them to spare his feelings. JJ was a sweetheart and Marvin knew how much he cared about him, but all he wished was for him to tell him sincerely if he could do better, not just as a person, but as a ruler. Sometimes he felt that Jamie just didn't really understand the weight of it all. That was probably true. To lose your only sources of guidance as a mere child and have every responsibility of running a kingdom fall onto your shoulders... Though it'd been over a decade since the assassination, he never truly did know if he was living up to his name. Then again, his expectations for himself were much harsher than anyone else in the land but he didn't know how else to strive for the same success as his parents.

While his mind only got more and more muddled with thoughts, JJ had snuck off, taking the time to make his bed and straighten up the sheets for him. It didn't take him long and when he was finished, he came back to the vanity to notify the prince of his other priorities.

"My apologies, your Highness, but I have other duties to attend to." He gently knocked on the wood of the table, briefly snapping Marvin out of his thoughts. "Please come to the dining hall when you are ready. Your breakfast will be waiting for you. Now, please excuse me..." He bowed politely before taking his leave, leaving Marvin alone in the empty bedroom. The door clicked behind him and he glanced back to make sure he was alone. Then, he stood up and walked over to the tall windows where, in the center, there were two arched glass doors that led out to the balcony.

Marvin opened up the doors and stepped out onto the veranda, gazing out to the town below. It may have been a warm sunny morning but the breeze still carried a cool, refreshing scent on the wind. It was the kind of scent that you could only smell at dawn when the sun still hid behind the clouds and air was cool and humid and smelled like rain. The gentle wind that blew through his hair carried away with it some of his stress from before. He closed his eyes and leaned his elbows on the stone rail, feeling the air on his skin and taking slow, deep breaths to relieve the ache in his chest.

The tangled web of anxiety that he felt just a moment ago was now starting to unravel, allowing him to try and decipher just what it was that always left him feeling this way; feeling that he wasn't good enough.

Maybe the reason he was hard on himself was because he felt that he had nothing to show for all of his work. In mere seconds, his entire life had completely changed and he, all of a sudden, felt so heavily pressured to prove that he too could be a great king, just as his father had once been. He never noticed it until he stepped into power, but once he had taken the throne, he felt everyone's eyes on him. It was like he was performing upon a stage and his audience was just watching, waiting for him to make a mistake. The only problem was, one mistake could ruin his entire family name. He alone represented so much and his parents' entire legacy was on the line. He HAD to show everyone that he could be just as good a king as his father. In fact, he felt that the only way he would be worth anything was measured by great and noble achievements. Achievements of his that he felt could never compare to the deeds of his father. Perhaps he coveted that success...

He stood there with his eyes closed for quite some time, but soon he began to long for an escape. With another deep breath, he opened up his eyes and looked out to the city below. To be fair, he couldn't see many people, besides the castle staff, since the town was a ways down the road from the castle and many of the buildings made it hard to see what was going on, but the scenery still brought a fond smile to his lips. He caught small glimpses here and there of the townsfolk bustling about in the streets. There were farmers tending to and harvesting their fields, an on-duty soldier offering a flower to a small child by the gates, a man grooming the horses by the stables... There were children running by the shops in the circle and there were people dancing and playing music as if they were celebrating the new day. There were vendors passing out food, no doubt hot and fresh and Marvin could already smell the bread and cakes just by thinking about them.

Everything just felt so peaceful and it all brought him a sense of comfort...

Perhaps Jamie was right about everything. Maybe he did have everything under control after all. He gazed out at the town and everything was in order. The people were well and happy and they were all joyously doing their part to provide for themselves and their home. Everyone seemed so content. Maybe that was really all that mattered.

He thought hard about it and settled that even if the job was tough, it was all worth it to see everyone so happy. It made the job feel a lot less lonely. Besides, it wasn't like he could just give up who he was. He was the prince, the heir and future king. Whether he was ready or not for this burden, it was his to bear and it was time he accepted that.

He was now starting to realize that maybe the only person he was trying to prove himself to was himself. He so badly wanted to prove to himself that he could be just as successful as the late king, but something that he often forgot was that such incredible feats of leadership didn't come overnight. And his life was only just getting started. There was still plenty of time to make his own accomplishments. And he could do it all his own way.... That would be the best part.

He just had to be patient.

He closed his eyes and took in one more deep breath, filling his lungs with that refreshing morning scent before it had finally disappeared for the day. It was calming and he soon felt all of the pressure from before leaving his shoulders. He stopped comparing himself to those before him and abandoned whatever harsh critical thoughts he had of himself. He wanted to face the day with a new mentality. He wasn’t a failure and he wasn’t going to be.

As he stood there on the balcony, he made a silent promise to himself that he would never lose sight of what was important and make the most of every day, not just for him but for the people he swore to protect. The refreshing wind began to die down now, replaced by the less pleasant heat of the sun. Maybe it was time to head back inside, before it got late and the servants would come looking for him. He turned on his heel and entered the bedroom through the open glass doors. He closed them behind him and locked the door with the latch.

He was on his way out and had approached the door that led out into the halls but just before he turned the handle, he looked back at the portrait above the vanity. Seeing it again made him wonder if they were watching him from their place up above but he knew, either way, that he didn't have to worry. Of course they were proud of him.... Even if he wasn't proud of himself yet, he knew that the most important people in the world were, and that was enough for him. His lips curled into a small smile before he inevitably turned away to head downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

This is my very first ever written piece so plz go easy on me ;w;

Tags:

@geekyfox2 @cryptid-bwoid @fanaticallyperfect @jack-and-sammy

#jacksepticeye #jse #jse egos #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #jj #fantasy au #erseptyl au #writing #fic

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nyxicnymph · 3 years

Text

Another Time and Date???

Chasulia Oneshot.

@disfordevineaux

@oqxy

@of-scars-and-roses

@sleepymochasloth

@redcxackles-backup

@catintheback

@justanotherpsych00

All Julia Argent knew about her soulmate was that they appeared to be forgetful, or had no access to pen and paper. Scrawled addresses and dates had appeared on her hand nearly daily from her sixteenth birthday. The handwriting had evolved, but it was still a scrawl across her tiny palms.

So Julia wore gloves.

It wasn't like she was embarrassed by her soulmate, far from it. They'd never tried to communicate, but that didn't bother her. Julia believed one should not force destiny.

When the addresses started matching up with certain historical treasures and museums, Julia had a bit of a panic. The same targets that Carmen Sandiego were hitting were only showing up on her hand only hours before the raids.

Sure, Carmen Sandiego was hot, but... she was an international superthief, for God's sake. And Julia just wasn't that attracted to her, no matter what outsiders may think.

But then Carmen started leaving her handwritten notes, after they'd partnered up a few times, to Chief's bemusement. And Julia sighed in relief. Carmen wrote in elegant cursive, not an untidy scrawl.

That didn't solve the mystery, but it knocked one suspect off the list.

"Eh, Miss Argent, you appear to be lost in your thoughts?" Devineaux asked her as he tapped her shoulder.

Julia flinched in surprise. "Oh, just a personal mystery. It has nothing to do with our work."

Devineaux frowned. "But if it is occupying your thoughts, you will not be in the right mindset to work, no?" He grabbed a chair from nowhere and sat in it, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin. "Is it a mystery you are willing to share?"

Julia smiled slightly at the sight before her. Devineaux had grown from an arrogant, dismissive coworker to a steady and reliable friend for her. She sat down as well and took a deep breath.

As close as Devineaux was to her, you don't just talk about soulmates with anyone. Soulmates were a sensitive topic.

"It is my soulmate. Specifically the way our mark works. My soulmate mark is the ink mark, and my soulmate, they must be forgetful or in a habit of writing on themselves. As of the last several months, or year, several of the addresses..." Julia sighed, and removed her glasses to wipe them off in a nervous tic. As she replaces her glasses, she continues, "Several of the addresses lined up with places we have gone in our attempts to capture or work with Carmen Sandiego. At first I thought maybe my soulmate was her, but her handwriting is completely different. Yet the addresses continue to show up."

Devineaux's eyes had steadily grown wider and wider during Julia's small monologue. He cleared his throat. "So, is it maybe one of her comrades? Or someone here at ACME?"

Julia shook her head. "I don't know. But I have a plan. I've never communicated with them, through the connection, but with all these coincidences, I'm about to. I have to. I have to know who they are, Devineaux."

Devineaux nodded and stood. "I hope you find them, Miss Argent." He exited her work area, and made his way outside.

Having exited the building, he leaned against the wall, shaking slightly. He raised his left hand to eye level, and slowly, finger by finger, removed the glove that had been covering it.

He had just written down the address this morning, due to a tip from some of Carmen's contacts.

Devineaux never thought about soulmates, since he didn't have a visible soulmark. But suddenly, after Julia's words, Devineaux was anxious.

What if he had offended, oppressed, and hurt his soulmate?

But you've also learned from your mistakes, apologized, and stepped away from those hurtful behaviors, another part of his mind whispered.

Devineaux clutched his head in confusion and anxiety. He allowed himself two minutes of agonizing, then he stood up tall, replaced his glove, smoothed his hair, straightened his jacket, and returned to his work.

<Timeskip: Next Day>

Julia lowered the pen, only to pull it back. She had been so determined to do this, so ready to finally meet this person, only for her nerve to fail her now? She shook her head and pressed her lips together in determination. She raised the pen again, and placed it firmly on the back of her hand.

I believe it is time for us to meet.

She then gave the address of the café where Chief liked to go in the mornings, and set a time for their meeting, and set the pen down. She stared at her hand for a few minutes, breathless. Finally, the scrawl appears.

I will be there.

Julia released the breath she'd been holding. They were coming. She'd finally meet her soulmate and find out about the addresses and mysteries.

She might even feel less stressed.

She pulled her glove back on and pulled out her laptop, satisfied. They'd meet around noon, if all went well.

Devineaux looked at the back of his hand, shocked, and scared. He didn't have any proof, but if this was just a coincidence, it was an uncanny one.

He pulled the glove back on and resumed his work, though his eyebrows were closer knit than usual. He looked up at a gentle knock, however, less then two minutes later. Julia was standing there nervously.

"Ah, Miss Argent, come in!" He said, putting on his regular Chase facade.

"Devineaux," she began, "I did it! I'm meeting my soulmate for lunch today!"

Devineaux's head swirled, and a lump grew in his throat. He should tell her, but he couldn't get the words out. All he could manage was a weak, "That sounds lovely."

Julia was normally an observant woman, but she was in a daze, and couldn't quite see the tempest in Devineaux. She couldn't see his internal conflict with himself, a conflict that was growing stronger by the second. She just couldn't.

Julia walked around Devineaux's desk, and gave him a hug. "Thank you for being so supportive of me. Not just with this, but with everything. Ever since Egypt, you've become one of my best friends. No, you are my best friend now. And I couldn't be more grateful."

Devineaux returned her hug, his knowledge pressing on his tear ducts, but he swore not to cry. Not then.

"You showed me my errors, Miss Argent. You, and your perspective, changed me for the better." Oh, how he wanted to call her Julia, then. But he couldn't. That wasn't his place. Not yet.

Julia stepped away. "Now, I must go. I have some things to finish up before I leave. Thank you, Devineaux."

He nodded as she turned and left, a slight spring in her step. Devineaux looked down at his desk, noting a drop. The tears weren't tears of sadness, nor joy. They were tears of conflict, and tears of shame that he had been unable to tell her then and there.

He wiped the teardrop of the desk, and returned to his papers. Like Julia, he had several things to accomplish before their lunch. He would not be working through his lunch break today.

Julia tapped the last of her papers together, and looked at the clock. She swept the papers into her desk, and stood up. She was about to leave her area when she looked at a vase on her desk. There was a small flower on the edge of the arrangement she had placed in it, and she pulled it out. Her hair had grown out a bit, but she thought the primrose might still be a nice touch. She placed it gently behind her hair, and smiled, pleased by the effect.

Devineaux waited for Julia to exit the building before hurriedly shoving all his stuff in a briefcase and shoving it into the desk. He stopped by a mirror in the hall and tried to fix his hair, but stopped. It wouldn't change how Julia viewed him. She already knew almost everything about him, or at least his personality.

And his messy grooming habits.

Devineaux internally flinched. If today went well, if she accepted him, he resolved to improve his hygiene and grooming. And double check the toothpaste tubes.

He still hated VILE for that one.

He made his way to the cafe, and stopped just outside. His breath caught in his throat.

She was there. A primrose in her hair, and a radiance around her that just made her shine. He backed away for a moment.

He just realized that he was in love with Julia Argent.

He straightened his coat, hoping she wouldn't be disappointed in him. He walked in with a group of other people. Even from a distance, he could tell that, despite her glow, Julia was anxious. After a glance at his watch, Chase knew why.

He was seven minutes late.

Chase felt his heartrate go up drastically, and he wasn't sure if he'd make it to Julia. He pulled a pen out of his pocket, and placed it on his hand.

Try not to be disappointed.

Julia raised an eyebrow at the message, but also understood. She gasped in surprise when a hand was gently placed on the table in front of her. She looked down at the messages, which mirrored hers exactly, then followed the limb up, past a familiar jacket, to a very familiar face.

Chase Devineaux smiled weakly. "Surprise?"

He sat down heavily and placed his forehead on the table, the anxiety from earlier leaving him exhausted. Julia stared at him, her brain whirling.

"Wait, you're my soulmate?!" She mumbled, still in shock.

Chase lifted his head up. "I wanted to tell you earlier, when you walked in, but I just could not! I give you my deepest apologies, Miss Argent."

Julia looked at him, still processing, but the pieces are starting to click. "No, no, I don't think you should apologize. Something about fate. It's strange like this." She looked at her delicate hand, then placed it on Devineaux's rougher and larger one. "And fate didn't want me to know then, I'm sure."

Devineaux looked away. "But, Miss Argent, how can you trust me now?"

Julia looked at him quizzically. "You've saved my life, and grown into someone I can trust with anyone. Devi-" She stopped, swallowed, and continued. "Chase, how could I not trust you?"

Chase looked at her again, wonder on his face. Hardly anyone called him Chase. "I thought you would hate me, or even worse, ignore me."

Julia sighed. "I could never. We're partners, remember?" She held up her hand. "Forever, I suppose."

Chase cracked a grin, and leaned back, running a hand over his face. "It's like a weight has been lifted from my chest, thanks to you, Miss Argent."

"Julia," she corrected, and he nodded.

"Of course. Julia."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Julia's eyes widened and she covered her mouth. Chase glanced over in concern.

"Julia?"

"I friendzoned you!"

Chase just leaned back and laughed.

<End>

#chasulia #chase x julia #chase devineaux #julia argent #carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego 2019 #oneshot #soulmate au

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