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goldenheartgirl1 · 2 years

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Rose and Marigold Ch.9-Time is Fickle

(There was a really odd unmentioned time skip from episode 15 to 18 where apparently 2 years passed? Oscar and Marie are 22, meaning it was now 1777. Starting at the end of episode 18 and transitioning to 19)

The ambush had Marigold seething, even if Oscar was to heal soon she felt ashamed that she did not join André and Rosaline on their trapped ride. If she was there perhaps Oscar would not have been wounded. Although she was thankful Fersen found them coincidently, she hated how her lover looked at Fersen, it pained her more than she would have thought. Marigold did not leave Oscar’s side and read to her when she grew restless, but her worries only continued to eat her. On one night, Oscar insisted on still meeting with Marie Antoniette and Fersen, and of course the redhead agreed that the fresh air would be good for her and interacting with others. However, that night Oscar came to the room with a bottle of wine and glass, Marigold was not one to drink but watched her love nervously as the sapphire eyes continued to stare at nothing but the wine for every sip. After finishing a majority of the bottle, Oscar set the glass down and swayed back on her bed, causing Marigold to quickly set her book down and help the blonde onto the bed to not damage her arm further.

“Oscar? Please, tell me what troubles you..”

“Everything is alright Marigold, I’m just..feeling a little uneasy about something Fersen said.”

Marigold hid her pain but could not hide the water gathering in her eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, but his words keep spinning in my head.” Oscar replied then looked up at Marigold, her face was flushed with a light shade of pink and she reached a hand up to cup the singer’s cheek. “He spoke about how he is to be married, and how he could never admit his love to the queen. Fersen then questioned if I could ever marry without love.”

“Meaning would you marry to uphold your noble blood..or would you sacrifice that for love..”

“Yes, but I never really knew..I have no idea what I want.”

“Would you do it Oscar? Would you risk everything to be with someone you love?”

Hazel eyes couldn’t stop the gentle stream of tears, it hurt to say her words as much as it hurt to see the conflicted look in Oscar’s eyes. The blonde gently wiped the tears away but hesitated to reply, making Marigold question softly. “Has our love finally burned out? Is it because Fersen is someone you wish to have?”

“Marigold-”

“No Oscar, get some sleep. You are tipsy and need your rest.” Marigold asserted, laying on her side of the bed with tears still sliding down her face, but she made no noise at all to vocalize her sadness.

The week was filled with silence between Marigold and Oscar, the redhead moved back to her own room in the meantime as she thought to herself. She knew the royal guard would busy herself with Rosaline and Marigold began to busy herself with going into the city to feed the poor, bringing baskets of food to those that were sick or starving. Without realizing it, Marigold had a second name from the people of the slums, when she wore her cloak to conceal her hair she became Thyme Laudanum. A woman who brought food and comfort to release pain just as laudanum had, although Marigold was not too thrilled by the name. She refused to give her real name just in case word got to Versailles somehow, but she found herself smiling when families would rejoice over their loved one’s healthy life. It was that way the entire week, Oscar and her had only briefly talked daily when they simply were informing each other of their plans, to which Marigold would often lie about hers, and they would briefly talk when others were around.

Marigold’s heart felt cold, she missed having Oscar laugh with her, to listen to her play while she sang, to have her warm embrace when she felt as terrible as she did. She hated how her words may have ended the wonderful six years of passion they shared and the seven years they shared all together, it hurt too much to think about. On one particular evening, Marigold arrived late to the manor with her baskets empty and she removed the hood from her head with a heavy sigh. André was walking down the stairs as Marigold was walking up and questioned her with a serious tone. “Where did you go off to?”

“Nowhere special, I was trying to get more herbs but I had no luck.”

“Herbs? For baskets of that size?”

The redhead refused to acknowledge his point and made her way to her room, with her platonic brother following behind her. “Where is Rosaline?”

“She is reading and Oscar is at Versailles.”

“I just wanted to know about Rosaline, I wanted to see if she was ready for her next lesson.”

“Marigold!” André said sharply, getting Marigold’s attention and the hazel eyes widened in surprise. “What has happened between you and Oscar?”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

His eyes looked down in shame for a moment before looking back at her and explained. “I know about you and Oscar being lovers.”

Ice filled Marigold’s blood, she looked around quickly to make sure no one else was listening before taking his arm and leading him to her room. Quickly she shut the door behind them and asked quietly but in shock. “H-how long?”

“I figured it out three years ago, there was a time you both were riding and when you stopped right outside of the house you shared a kiss..”

Nausea, anxiety, a sense of shame for letting their secret get out, all of this hit Marigold so hard her knees buckled under her. André was quick to catch her but she stared at him with these conflicted emotions, she knew he loved Oscar to an extent as well and hated herself for her own betrayal. “André, please forgive me!”

“For what?”

“Do not act so ignorant! I know you care for Oscar greatly! I never..I did not mean to push you away from..I should have never fallen for her.”

Tears ran down Marigold’s cheeks as she let out a cry of emotional pain, but André only held her and whispered. “It’s ok, I know you two mean a lot to each other..It took me time to understand it but..”

“I-I wish I could forget, I wish I had gone a different path to not hurt you and Oscar so much..”

André looked at her with confusion and brushed her messy red hair as the woman sobbed. “Marigold? No, please don’t wish for something like that. Oscar truly cares a lot about you-”

“No, I trapped her.” Marigold whimpered out, closing her eyes to ease some of her pain. “If I never confessed maybe..maybe she would not be confused about herself. She has fallen for another person that I know she wishes she could be with, I will never be the person she wants.”

There was nothing André could say to comfort his sister, only holding her to his chest as he continued to brush her hair with his fingers. After a while she managed to calm down but her body felt numb, she wondered how she would talk to Oscar, how she could help the blonde move on with her life, and how she was to recover herself. André helped her to the bed and promised not to tell Oscar where Marigold was sneaking off to, but the redhead only said that lying would prove no help and she would tell the truth. The next morning, Rosaline and Marigold rode together to enjoy the morning and to help cool down Rosaline’s inner fire, her determination to avenge her mother worried the redhead. When they climbed down, Marigold looked at the young girl and asked. “Rosaline, although I know your anger, would death really clean your soul?”

“What do you mean?”

“If the duchess’s blood is on your blade, will you be at peace?”

“I’m not sure..I just want to avenge my mother! She at least deserves to rest peacefully!”

“I do not argue with that, but Rosaline, even if I hate my brother and father for their years of abuse I found that death is no solution.”

Rosaline stared unconvinced at Marigold but listened, asking politely. “Then what did you do to heal?”

“I found that helping others purified myself, even if I stole or became a shadow, I am happy to help others achieve their happiness. So tell me Rosaline, what would make you most happy?”

She thought for a moment, then hugged Marigold tightly and clenched onto her red vest, the older woman hugged back and pet the blonde hair as she listened to the response. “I want to stay with you and Oscar, I want to stay with this family.”

“And you shall always stay until you decide to fly on your own, little dove.” Marigold replied with a soft smile, Rosaline became a daughter or sister figure to her, proud to help her grow into a fine young lady over time. “Now, head inside, I will take care of the horses.”

Rosaline smiled and nodded at her, quickly walking to the manor as Marigold took the horses to their respected pens. The hazel eyes gazed up at the sky as she walked outside, her body enjoying the chilling breeze and her mind coming to ease. Now she had to face Oscar, but what she would say was the difficult thing to think about. Marigold had to calm her nerves before walking to the manor, but before she could make it she heard someone faintly calling her name and turned her attention to the road. One of the children nearby, little Gulon of seven years old with caramel hair ran over to her in a panic.

“Marigold!”

“Gulon? What is wrong?” She asked as she kneels down and caught the boy as he came barreling into her.

“M-my mother! Please, she collapsed!”

“Oh goodness, ok, let’s go see her.” Marigold replied, attempting to stay calm. A woman collapsing could mean several things, it did not mean it was always illness or worse. She quickly retrieved some herbs from her garden before following Gulon, letting him hold her available hand.

The young boy led her down the road, he tried to pull Marigold on his own but she kept a powerful stride to quicken her pace. Thankfully the house was not far from the manor, but the redhead grew more worried when she noticed a few other people outside the house. Gulon had released her hand and ran to his father and brothers, the small family of five was incomplete without Mrs.Verne and Mr. Verne looked at Marigold with a pleading expression. “Marigold, thank you for coming so soon, I just can’t get a doctor right now-”

“Please it is no trouble, is she inside?”

“Yes, laying on her bed. She barely has eaten, her stomach hurts, and she has chills running down her body constantly.”

“Hmm, sounds like a fever..I’ll have a look.”

Marigold was cautious of course, stepping into the house slowly and making her way to the bedroom of the small home, inside the brunette woman was laying in bed with a raspy breathing and her face pale. The redhead was not an official doctor but she had done her fair share of reading, taking it slow she moved her hand to the woman’s forehead that was coated in sweat, then she proceeded to get some tea ready with her herbs. A fever was the likely culprit, if her body is strong enough then she’ll live but that was going to be several steps to take. Marigold began to prepare a soup for the family with a few veggies and thyme in it, and when the tea finished she urged the mother to sit up and drink some. After successfully helping Mrs.Verne drink a few cups, the redhead brought over a bowl of the soup and smiled at the woman.

“Inhale the smell, it will help calm your nerves, eat slowly but try to finish the bowl.”

“T-Thank you Marigold..how can I ever repay you?”

“There is no need, just promise me you’ll rest and let your family take care of you. If you keep pushing your body then you will not survive long.”

“Of course.” The brunette smiled back and began eating her soup slowly.

Marigold left the house and was surprised to see the morning had long passed and it was now past noon, Mr.Verne ran up to her the moment she left the house. “How is she?”

“She is resting with some food and a warm body, you must keep her bundled up and I left some mint so you can brew her more tea. Now, it is up to her body.”

“I suppose that is all I can ask of you..Thank you Marigold.”

“Keep your chin up, I’m sure she’ll be alright.” The redhead smiled before making her journey back home.

Once she returned there was a bizarre silence in the manor, the hazel eyes scanned the place but André and Oscar must have already left. “Rosaline?”

Nanny was the one to respond to her call though as she hurried over with worry in her eyes. “Marigold! Rosaline won’t come out of her room, she is really upset!”

“Do you have any idea why?”

“No, but I figured you would convince her to let you in..”

“Thank you Nanny, I’ll do what I can.” She promised with a smile before walking upstairs towards Rosaline’s room, knocking lightly on the door.

“Rosaline? Are you alright?”

The door creaked open and Rosaline looked at the hazel eyes with a distraught expression. “Marigold..”

Noticing the signs of trouble the redhead quickly walked in and closed the door, putting a hand on Rosaline’s shoulder. “What is wrong my dear?”

It was then that the blonde began to explain that her real mother changed her name and was none other than duchess Polignac, Marigold did what she could to comfort the girl but the young fencer sounded so lost in her own process. After her explanation she began to weep quietly as she looked up at Marigold. “I-I want to make her pay for what she did, but I don’t want you or Oscar to suffer the repercussions of my actions. Marigold, what do I do?”

“Unfortunately that is a choice only you can make,” Marigold soothed softly, petting the girl's head. “When I was confronted by my brother I drew out my sword, I had every reason to kill him until I realized one more thing. His tainted blood was not worth spilling, not when he was already weak and helpless. By having the strength to kill you make the decision whether someone is worth your time, or if you let God punish them on his own.”

“But..I do not think I can let this go..She deserves to die after spreading rumors, abusing the queen in mind, does she not deserve death?” Rosaline asked desperately as she pulled at Marigold’s vest. “Please, if you were in my place, what would you do?”

Marigold wished she had a pure mind, to tell Rosaline that the woman was not worth killing, but even she was angered by this woman’s torment on their family and the queen. “If I was in your place..I would take her life. I am not happy to admit that, but she has cracked all the paths she treads on. However Rosaline, blood will forever stain your hands. Are you willing to put yourself through that? And if you can bear the blood, can you also kill in a manner that no witnesses can be found?”

The blue eyes narrowed with determination as she nodded. “I-I can.”

Fear struck Marigold’s heart for this girl, she quickly spoke before anything else could transpire. “Rosaline, I encourage you to talk to Oscar first. Do not rush into your emotions or they will blind your actions. Please promise me you’ll at least speak with her first.”

After getting a quiet agreement from her, the redhead embraced Rosaline tightly, fearing that the dove would soon be tainted with blood and never able to clean off her feathers. When the evening came, Marigold kept herself busy by checking the nearby farms and making sure other families were not in need of assistance, she was not yet sure what to say to Oscar and hoped this would help organize her thoughts. The redhead returned home before dark and entered the hunting room to check on the firearms, but she quickly noticed one was missing. In panic she ran out of the room to the stables, leaping onto her brown and black speckled horse before riding out in a hurry to versailles. Down the road two riders were heading towards her and both groups slowed down when they recognized each other.

“Oscar! André!”

“Marigold, have you seen Rosaline?” André asked quickly.

“No, but she took a pistol from the hunting room!”

“We must be swift, Mrs. Polignac was headed to a dinner party.” The stable man replied and started riding down the road again at full speed.

Oscar gave a look at Marigold before taking off, then the redhead followed after them. “Marigold, what did you say to Rosaline?”

“She must make her own choice Oscar, you’ve trained her, but now she needs to make an adult choice by herself. You helped her hold a sword while she had vengeance on her mind, and my words can only do so much.”

Oscar looked unsatisfied by the answer but she knew Marigold was right, now the three could only hope to find her before the girl ruined her life. Darkness covered the sky as the horses raced down the stone path, and on the path ahead of them two men were chasing after a carriage that was being led by a cloaked figure. Marigold’s heart sank and rode faster after it, Oscar and André by her side with the same idea in mind. However two horse carriages were pretty fast on their own and their horses were already tired from the pursuit, making them fall behind Rosaline. By the time they had arrived, Rosaline and Duchess Polignac were on the ground but neither injured, Oscar approached Rosaline and brought the weeping girl onto her horse before telling the truth to Mrs.Polignac of the girl's real mother. Marigold shook her head before beginning the ride back home with André and Oscar in tow, the four were tired and unable to walk straight once they arrived home.

The next day André invited Rosaline and Marigold to a ball at Versailles, but the redhead hesitated. “I’m sorry André but I do not think I can sing right now.”

“You do not have to, at least come just to enjoy the music.” He smiled at her and pet her head. “Come on, Oscar and you still need to talk.”

She knew this but before she could decline, Rosaline pleased softly. “Please Marigold? I want to have a dance with you and to try and forget all that has happened. You were right, vengeance does not bring peace..”

With that the woman reluctantly nodded her head and followed the two to Versailles, she wore her gold vest with the sapphire necklace, strangely the necklace brought her warmth. Rosaline wore an elegant dress, the two women sat in the carriage while André drove them, giving the girls a little alone time to talk. Rosaline was the first to talk as she looked at Marigold, her blue eyes filled with what looked to be tranquility. “Marigold, thank you for all you’ve done to help me..”

“You are the one to make the choice Rosaline, and you made a good one this time.” Marigold replied with a gentle smile.

“Yes, but your words kept spinning in my head, you were right that throwing my life away would not have done anything for me. Thank you, and I wanted to let you know I’m happy to be a part of the Jarjaye’s family!”

The young girl smiled with a brilliance that Marigold had not seen from her in a while, she opened her arms and the beautiful young lady hugged her. They sat in the carriage in a warm hold until the carriage came to a stop. Marigold escorted Rosaline to the ballroom by her arm and when they arrived Oscar was in the midst of the crowd. Sapphire eyes widened with delight as she saw her friends and quickly walked over with a small smile gracing her lips. “You all came.”

“I wanted to forget all that has happened and enjoy the day.” Rosaline replied happily as she curtsied to Oscar, André then joined in with a chuckle.

“Of course it took Rosaline to convince Marigold to come with us.”

Marigold shot him a warning glare but tried to relax, looking at Oscar her hand subconsciously rose to touch her necklace. “I promised Rosaline a dance.”

“I see, I am still glad all of you came.” Oscar replied softly, her eyes holding a longing look at Marigold as the redhead led Rosaline to the dance floor.

The night at first seemed peaceful until a noble man ran in with the panicked explanation that Charlotte Polignac was on the tower outside, resulting in a majority of the guests to run outside just as the girl fell. Duchess Polignac ran to her lifeless daughter as André, Marigold, and Oscar stared with disbelief and sorrow. Rosaline stood further back but her hands shook, claiming that she couldn’t be sad for a stranger but her eyes betrayed her words as she started to cry. Oscar only held the girl as Rosaline wept for not knowing her half sister, Marigold stepped closer to rub the girl's back while André in turn put a warm hand on Marigold’s back. Listening to Rosaline’s cries reminded Marigold that she is still young and has much to learn and understand, but now was the night to take her home and sleep.

Before they left, Marigold snuck her way to the grieving duchess as her daughter's body was taken away, and although it was cold the redhead had to whisper her thoughts to the woman. “Did you truly care for your daughter? Was your life of luxury worth more than her happiness?”

The duchess only ran off from Marigold, leaving the redhead to turn and head back to the others, but she did not regret her words, sometimes the harsh truth was all people could understand.

#heartache #fanfic #completed and 12 chapters #oscar françois de jarjayes #oc #mature themes #versailles no bara #rose of versailles

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libidomechanica · 2 years

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God said, set of strange

A kimo sequence

Grow out, and Godlike the wing. Sea and the dog, and cannie Doon, whaever noses! God said, set of strange.

Of terror, thing cool, quick for love. In hir longing but if her blood: you and sufficiently deere?

Or elles and John. A fell? Ne let me of our beauty to ny approch of Honour had dyed?

—And, here was makes gasp as he grows; and said: I feele the such odious for young Porphyro!

Thought I, Morpheus? They saw, and so hende, what all suddenly be my Julia, helps soul, and the Flock.

A breake where I made a misty peace by the ken; irks carroll of lyes! Now rasher Choise, that hill!

Both wind sleep? For the will bleed. He turmoil of this shook the State, and path of golden beauty take.

Like vnto those, hey have me new wine. What is enemy, and beings and the being sinner clay.

His rain into you. In middle-book, close? This rod in hair’d by the earnestly, Arethusa.

Thou may heart and dripping my lips! Its hand a rosie garden’d for verray shine again, and sweet.

Some that to his blueness? Die a mists, as he set to the sceptred to me he merry-winged brave?

Young beaming their grapes, in chaffing himself for hearse each force he grows. With diamonds showe, thou laugh head.

How have love no terror, and let us haunt crutcheon. Give wine’s deep with makes me. Vessel’s penn’d by.

She winterception assuage, but say themselues among the full of Honour, and then on base.

Where I woot, till at once free often really toss’d her laying to decay. As now that sweet dove.

The world laid but your nipple, so brave, because was dead of but thou with an England, bathe ocean?

My beetle is dumb death, and devout a baskets brighten’d, and now feel amain to bord with me.

Pray than he ready myrtle of loue, whither at. Loud, sure their new words, ’twould choice again to keen.

More no long recording flow. On he koude he sung, the earthstood as is heal’d there’s my hear it.

When my aid, is June. I HATE the didst of your journey ho! In that useless, more their eccho ring.

Song my body their Posterious eyes and mood, when, smoothe applicate all my care. Bring, disclose tears.

She had of Noah’s own her eyes. My love not, and good found to me; I did thirty hovels on honde.

; The People when the Joyfull Fame. That sharp judgment fell on stays the plays. My with Oath weariness?

So long growing alone. Be while, were Noah’s own by thing quiet circled and let they were for booze.

When I in the nightmar’d. Its to his joly clerkes youth your need thou affront bare, we are thanks?

Of they pretty she shatter’d on, some a crystal chilling of promis’d up to life? In the place?

Its taught wintry cloys and sucked of rose them to pot, but if he be, ’tis the only Queen! As planks.

Thou, for the roar, stood: but do not words turns the Apostel whan the voices leisure. Till bounding.

I sat light that its comes to our village, to move, edg’d resemble; in trifle or for to makes.

See the Futurism just if the spring, whoso lisp them! If Johnny do, I could pleasure.

Alas! Into a horse’s spheres grew daisies and that Plot, when you chidden and prove is for me!

I am not love pinnace, the air is gone bride: but, Betty Foy? No hunger yet moon is all.

One, in the frequestion, the coil’d, and the from them to such proverbe of ther tale. Itself in ten?

Of Hero’s to bud like a Lyons. On with immers borne to be remover die a man tears,.

Blue; as rum, and wise by maistrings are lips? But what glariness: two casks of Fate, its done torment!

Her eyes lie with his first of start is one an ydiot boy. Of them when Saul wave him so pass’d, brave.

Of nobler with me. But self so it be gives be fourther flaming the bustle, Long thro’ the blood.

The throbb’d in my cheek in the muse to praised to boudoir recede to blow; and he plaid in this? Ah!

We comming, as wont to diversal tinge the glide, and locks that on glass wi’ a tongue: on bonie wall’d.

To my happy play your needs diviners learn.—At that ye speaking to her name. It brings my pangs.

Had never pure, my day, till at Susan Gale. Al nyght, against thou, for the grapple selling-band.

Her maiden, a glimmer beloved? Once to more, Peona! It sharpent of all the alters Fate.

Where are. He should nothing heart, you now and clear wel after a Turkey or shed, go to muses!

Wreath, heavenly chains her souls her viands, or iar. That I in you get him, as a Jehovah’s Ark.

But Betty, going, sole lowers within this clear within. It leven; t was as is to sell.

Prodigious words withal speeds. Spread her near under ocean whose look as delight, to assurance.

None told the enter, both berries Betty Foy, and man, and remain’d, would breath is. And towers in.

A trio of glee, thou leap them make the brave? Was, to guide, so gratified Design’d. Large-—that die.

It made love we are. That at the blind thought he’ll conceptive, she sighs I conside thee this pardee!

We love the may for she hoar: again. And, each that blossoms came upon his careless be, this own.

Ne let me inform’d his perle, and deep which dead, til al. The Doctor no long. Persevered Johnny!

And they might o’clock that tree, should song tree, by gentle mountain, with the hill, ’twould weeping; so much.

The night & see hit it; from a census tayl. To every holland, last for loss the is upon it.

Were yourse Amalthes half an ale; the wisė folwe hym and flashing must ends. And, no signs, as each more.

Me; yea, every complain, his some Expensive raptured by my silence still! But Lofty ground.

He laughs to bed. Darkness,—this find it universal shriek, the shipwreck’d: and, the Nude Desire.

They always, but yet purpled, and slippers lay it’s not heavenly that ilke riband. The greeting!

Ride Pees! And be full torments while not less silence, spread away, who had steps tolde saw the baskets.

But half sleepy twilighteous eye, for ioyous to other, born for langell she sits, spark. As the ring.

Of Pharoah’s ark, for, and she wight, what youth rere. The your back footsteps still, an ominous, ’ wax’d brow.

War will entrails her their children. To some lots footsteps: great Pan-festival: his plants, but, for eves.

Struggle wide they preach, by Land, and dream dead. The way the heard the foam and thirst grasshoppers, lily!

And design’d. Glitters throbbing the be fool’d in it is know wherefore tool’s tread, to his glad eyes.

One labour remove, edg’d resolve, or Spain repress? Now, soon he lispering could tempests the crew!

By a parts beams. Still it wel I hence Melody;—him light; in the fell agree, her lovers’ heart.

But of all lead, but walke as sooner shake? Them to your blest. The most with you were butcheon. And shrewe!

Cling spring, hid the Frere. Grind of the hummingly lips and hauing bow-string handes tell to vs.

Had tried Philling Spright it is light wolde, and thirst of youth, or noght turned three.— Perhaps her prayer he!

The pony! And bow and pomegranates tellen, if Bands widened fields and fee than alas!

Which a fires, and I wol I tell me bacon had as they do endlessly— but being his trail.

But the water weary Muse, thanne, the children garrison? Amid the very sports made his day?

Golden delight of course of his functions always, and fainting happier St. Such now pleasure.

I find its old. Ignorant, I feelings are that wealth, or love fed up, a crush’d to see their Head.

We are the false speak? And so all the rolling donor press’ nod will her bright, and once liberty.

The only day, wants with thee what mark me, and with aught nor eves. They were grottos, full of terrors.

— My bark was an elf, he spring; and shell. Good no womanhoods shall be below, I was a pye.

Is Sin to finds, blossoming by eves. To remons your best quietly store; and torch’d her likeness?

But sole lips are chastitee. Another will scarce a heard a thou likne young Aurora’s true played those.

They sunk to his as Queen! But now world’s mild— with minus and some Old House harm invented tomorwe!

To That other streams, and averse, aughter of bigamye: her spiral to their earned you and Haidee.

Not that made is (one of it,— peona’s burst. Those fields help the will by miraculous Eyes, and stars.

One should hards were crystal wife, and synge, alas! Yet my being all the steep a lady with noon.

Itself and lave one was lyke charmeth in blade our vows old Susan’s gone heard his footworn to grief.

The design. Poor vaunt! Love spoak: few chance had renew’d; hers in vain, by my Philly! The cheek wherein.

They refused not have I not heed mother come, the royal Youth! Thou must— the cities of what grieve.

For the deepest, who, suddenly was Right bring? Off, and make and he used rhyme to lose then out, ah!

Vomiting at some says, and circle rabbit will. And when fair Syrinx— do thou hast to heaven!

He is to David incumbranch done; then! I did I dremedies which we never carried low!

Being much tender thousand your Fate Pedrillo forgiven. I found and said, and Intelle.

Impress moonlight; and me! The brain: therefore, and lyve. Than he heart to shore remain another boughs!

Of brother, all vain, indeed of blessing shrieks in its for the flock, to the Past pleasurable.

Would alone refressh so much. Where is a burial face their Monarch it bridge of hand this song.

Like to for the first passings and goost. A height, grows length, this tattoos in like storella muses!

With this sorrow. And clear vanished boat, webfooted, every myself, but to the high: strands by men.

For what he had a green, with necklace from dead ready to hem brough. To standing a noisier.

He had been to listendom. Expose, an old shift, under in my judge of our Good Susan’s face!

Would o’ercast: with the pumps and in my Mercurie al the your breathed pen. And thy vapour memory!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #197 texts #kimo sequence

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clearlydiamondz · 2 years

Text

Loyal to Royalty

Erik!Stevens X OC

Part Two

- - - - - - - - - -

Princess Imani was the black sheep of her family, never really fitting the female royal type. When an arrange marriage between Prince N'Jadaka and her is set up, she tries her hardest to get away... but she just can’t.

- - - - - - - - - -

“She has a faint pulse, we need to hurry up and get her to a crash cart. Stat!” Okoye yelled as they carried Imani through the halls. They placed her on the medical table, ripping off her shirt as Shuri grabbed the things she needed.

“What happened?”

“The helicopter that they were on were attacked by smugglers. They found her in the mess.” Ayo said as Shuri and the medical team started to bag her.

“How the hell is she still alive!?” Shuri asked as T’Challa ran in with Nakia. Nakia was already in her medical gear.

“Everyone that does not need to be here, out!” she yelled getting close to Imani. Everyone left the room, as T’Challa watched through the glass worried. He chewed on his thumb as they attempted to bring her pulse back to a strong rate. After 15 minutes, it was getting worse.

“Challa, she’s trying to fight it but it’s not working.” Shuri told him as he thought about it. “Not even the-”

“Nope. We might have to use the herb.” she whispered to him. “Nakia suggested it, she’s not going to make it.” she begged him. He thought long and hard before nodding.

“I’ll get it. They won’t suspect anything if I’m in there.” he stood up walking out of the lab.

- - - - - - - - - -

A couple of days later, Imani was invited to the country of Wakanda. Over the last couple of days Erik and her has been communicating over the plans over the marriage. Nothing to much.

Imani sat in the common area preparing for her trip.. Her step mother came in seeing what she was doing, seeing her packing a backpack for her things. “Hm, so now you’re on board with marrying Prince N’Jadaka?” she asked standing over her. She looked up at her fathers wife, before squinting her eyes.

“Nope. Still not. But what choice do I have to protect my people.” she said zipping up the bag and standing up.

“I just don’t understand what that family and your father see’s in you. You have them all fooled but I’ll be damned if you get us.” Oshana snapped. Imani faked pouted at her before saying,

“Well considering that the Wakanda royal family has been in my life since I was like... 4 months old, I’ve created a very special bond with those lovely people.” she said matter of factly. “Besides, my father wouldn’t trust your precious daughter to run a bakery sale, Nevermind a a country.” she shrugged her shoulders before stepping aside to grab everything else she needed.

“My daughter is more prepared to be a Queen than you will ever be. You’re disrespectful and a nuance to this entire family.” she snapped at her. Imani laughed, she couldn’t help but laugh. That is one thing that Oshana and Amara hated about Imani. Normal people would be upset with the pestering but she found it hilarious. Funny even. Whatever they did or say, she never really let them effect her. Of course there were times where she would snap when they over stepped, but any other times she would just laugh.

“Okay..” she trailed off. She turned around and looked at her. “It’s kind of pitiful how quick you are willing to throw your one and only daughter out to a man that neither of you guys know. I can sort of understand why my father is doing it but what does it for you?” she asked them seriously. All she did was stare at her, because the both of them knew exactly why.

It was about power. Money. More fame.

“The fact that my daughter is grateful to be in such a blessed position is more than what you could ever do.” she whispered to her, Imani winced.

“See that’s where I disagree.” Imani whispered back. “But, I’m going to let you decide on what I’m talking about.” she said throwing the bag over her shoulders. She didn’t move as she stared at Oshana in the face.

“I just don’t understand what my father see’s in you.” she mocked her, Oshana’s face growing with rage as she heard Imani speak. “My mother was a lady with such high values and such a beautiful spirit. Your a disappointment to what the queen was. You’re whole existence in my father’s life is like venom to blood.”

The anger that dripped from her voice was scary enough to make Oshana not say anything else. Before she stepped out of the common area, she turned back and looked at her.

“My father may be dumb, but I’m not.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“Imani, welcome back to Wakanda.” Okoye said with a smile as the two of them hugged each other.

“I will never get used to that grand entrance.” Imani told her looking around. “Such a beautiful home that you guys have.” she said as Okoye chuckled.

“Well this will be also be your home. Shuri told me to escort you to the lab. I’m guessing for the new upgrades..” she trailed off, whispering the last part. Imani nodded following the Dora Milaje guards to the lab.

“That. And to talk to Erik.” she said. Okoye sighed before looking at her while they walked.

“I tried to convince the board that it-” Imani cut her off.

“I’ve heard that so many times.” she chuckled. “I’ve done it on my side. T’Challa, Shuri, You, Erik. No use.” she sadly stated. Okoye grabbed her shoulder squeezing it.

“Well at least you get to come here more often.” she said trying to lighten the mood. The attempt to make her feel better actually did make her feel a tad bit. Wakanda was such a beautiful place. She remembered as a child she would dream and wish that her country was just like Wakanda. Coming here as a child was her favorite place to go to. More than all the beaches, more than any amusement park, more than any country in the world.

“Honestly, that is an upside.” she said to her laughing. They entered the lab seeing two mannequins with the suit. But neither one of them were hers. She noticed it belonged to the Black Panther and the Golden Jaguar.

“Imani!” she turned around and saw Shuri running towards her. She ran into her arms as Imani laughed hugging her back. “I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed. Imani looked at her a bit confused.

“You saw me a week ago. When I dropped the suit off?” she asked her as Shuri shrugged grabbing her tablet.

“Okay? And the sky is blue.” she said. Imani giggled at the little come back. If there was anyone who could out match Imani in the ‘smart mouth’ department was Shuri.

“Any ways, we need to wait till T’Challa and Erik gets-” The two of them walked into the lab together talking about something. Erik stopped in his tracks seeing Imani sitting on one of the stools. The two of them looked at each other before she gave him a nod acknowledging he was there. She stole a quick glimpse of him, seeing what he had on. He wore a plain white shirt, with a pair of grey sweat shorts with a some white Airforce Ones. T’Challa was dressed in traditional casual Wakanda wear.

It was nice to see that he bought his style from the states over here. One thing that she was obsessed with was some of the fashion that America had to offer. Some of it was though was.. questionable.

“Hello.” she said waving at the two of them. Erik looked her up and down drinking her in. She wore a red flowy dress with a white jean jacket, with white sandals with wedges. Her dreads were in a high bun on the top of her head. “What is she doing here?” Erik asked sitting across from her making her roll her eyes.

“You’re gonna see in a second.” T’Challa said hugging Imani. Imani turned around from the lab table, looking at Shuri who was about to present.

“So as you all know I did some modifications to your suits. For some odd reason Jadaka, when you absorbed all of the kinetic energy, all of it wasn’t being released. Most of it being kept inside the suit. So I made some upgrades so it didn’t get overheated, in a cooling system.” she told him. He stood up touching the suit admiring the gold trimmings.

“I also added to all three suits sound absorbing shoes. So when you are trying to be sneaky, no one hears you.” she said. Erik was the only one that noticed that she say the number three.

“Three? You have another suit?” he asked her. Shuri looked at Imani before she nodded for her to continue. Shuri clicked the button for the suits storage is the silver and black suit came to view. It just wasn’t an upgrade, it was an entirely new suit.

“Holy shit..” Imani whispered standing up touching it, looking at Shuri. “You did all this?” she asked. Shuri nodded smiling, she was so proud of herself. Erik looked at the two of them before shaking her head,

“Wait no. No. She is not getting a suit.” Erik stood up. That made Imani turn around and squint her eyes at him.

“Why not? I already had one.” she shrugged her shoulders in a matter of fact tone.

“What do you mean you already have one?” Everyone looked at each other before she sighed,

“I’m the Silver Leopard.” she confessed to him as he stared at her. After a few seconds he burst out laughing.

“Okay.. that was a great joke. Now forreal. What’s with the suit?” he asked Shuri as she looked around the room at everyone.

“I’m not joking.” she stated, him staring at her in complete shock. His mouth was slightly open as his eyes squinted in shock in confusion.

“H-How?” he asked.

“It’s not important.” she turned around admiring the suit, that statement making him scoff.

“The fuck kinda- no it is important. If I’m marrying you it’s my job to make sure you’re safe.” he snapped at her. She pointed at Shuri before saying,

“I am safe. She keeps me safe. Just like she keeps the two of you safe.” she told him. Erik stared at her before looking at everyone.

“Give us a minute.” Everyone respected his wishes as they gave the two time to talk. “So you didn’t think it would be important for you to tell me?’ he asked her.

“I didn’t think it was important. I have other things that are more important that the Silver Leopard. Like being forced to marry you.” she snapped at him. His head fell back as his eyes closed as he let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh my gosh! Can you stop thinking about the being force to marry shit!? You can run away if it’s that much of an issue for you!”

“And leave my country behind?”

“Okay then! So you don’t have to say every five fucking minutes that you’re being forced to fucking marry me. Do you think I wanna marry you? No, I’m being forced just as much as you are. I have to do it because I know in the long run it’ll help people. Just like you. So just accept it if there’s nothing you can do..” he was fed up with her, almost to the point of being annoyed.

“If we are going to be doing this, this is the type of shit that you need to tell me. Got it?” he told her. She was speechless from his outburst. He snapped his fingers in front of her before snapping her out of the little trance he had her in. “Hello?” he bought her back to reality as she slowly nodded her head.

“Yeah.” He sat down on the stool that she was previously sitting on. “So, explain.” he told her. She stared at him before saying,

“The night our helicopter crashed, they bought me to Wakanda because the hospital was closest. The only way for them to keep me alive was to have the Heart Shape Herb in my system.” she told him. He had so many questions about what she just said, he didn’t even know where to start.

“So after they gave it, they couldn’t extract it?” he asked. She shook her head, playing with her fingers.

“No, at the time I would start coding once they extracted it. So T’Challa made the decision to just let me have it so I could stay alive.” she said looking back at him. “No one knows about it though. T’Challa didn’t want the councilors here and my father finding out about it. I don’t want him to know that I’m the Silver Leopard, it’ll just make things worse.” she groaned rubbing her temples.

“How?” he chuckled standing up. “Your father, your step mother and your step sister damn near worshiped us because of who we are. I’m sure-”

“Erik please. You do not know them like I know them. The only reason they worship you is because you two are men, who are high in a monarchy, who just so happened to be rich. It’s seen as powerful on you but for me, it’s seen as someone who won’t take the thrown seriously. I’m a female royal, we’re suppose to sit behind the men and look pretty.” she explained to him.

“I don’t want anyone else to find out about this, understand?” she told him. He was silent before she spoke again. “Erik, do you understand?” she said a tad bit louder.

“Yeah..” she gave him one last look before walking to the hall to get the rest. Erik just stared at her suit. Shock wasn’t even the word to explains how he felt. They came back in, Imani sitting across from him on the table, giving him a look.

“Okay.. back on subject.”

- - - - - - - - - -

After their little meeting, T’Challa grabbed Imani and Erik to talk. “You guys good?” he asked her.

“Yes. What did you want to talk about?” she asked him, trying to change the subject. T’Challa looked at Erik before he nodded his head sighing him to continue on with what he had to say.

“So, Okoye gave me intel about how there is vibranium being trafficked through the dark market being sold at an auction Friday night. I need all hands on this one. This place is going to be surrounded in heavy duty weaponry.” he told them.

“That gives us only two days to prepare.” she whispered, her mind immediately racing on what she needed to do to prepare. “Can you send me all of the information for it so I can go over it.” she told him.

“Just stay here for the next couple of days. It’ll give us time to debrief and come up with a plan, and no one would think anything of it considering that you two are going to be.. y’know.” he said, not trying to make it awkward.

“I guess. I don’t have to worry about smuggling the suit across the boarders.” she shrugged her shoulders. “I just need to grab some clothes and some extra things I need to stay.” she said pulling out her phone to contact her barricade but Erik stopped her.

“Don’t worry. We can just use one of the jets. They are programmed so that we don’t have to stop at the boarders.” Erik said. She looked at him a little shocked by the gesture before she looked at T’Challa.

“We’ll be back, once we are we can discuss it.” she told him, he nodded.

“Be safe you two.” he left back into the corroders then looked back at him.

“I’m ready when you are.”

They sat in the jet, looking at the sunset that sat upon the Wakanda horizon. It was silent, it was awkward. She didn’t know what to say, she just assumed that there was nothing to say to him. That was until he spoke up,

“I’m sorry for snapping on you earlier.” he told her. She looked up from her phone before nodding.

“You’re good.” she said looking back at her phone. He stared at her again before saying,

“Well we have another 20 minutes before we get to yours so why don’t we attempt to get to know each other.” he suggested turning to look at her. “Its only percussions, just in case someone asks us about us.” he defended himself. She thought about it before saying,

“Sure why not.” she shrugged before locking her phone and throwing it on the dash board. He looked a tad bit shocked that she agreed but he didn’t let his fascial expressions show it. “Ask way N’Jadaka.”

The way she said his name, had him feelings some kind of way. He felt that in his soul, only wanting to hear her say it again.. and again... and again.

“Okay... favorite color?” she gave a ‘are you serious’ look, but he shrugged. “It’s good to know...” he trailed off.

“It’s purple.” she told him. “That is what color I wanted inspired by my suit but we all know who took that.” she said rolling her eyes as he chuckled. “But he makes it look alright so I guess.”

“Yeah... he does look okay in purple.” he said before shaking her head. “Mine is gold.”

“Gold isn’t a color...”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not. It’s a metal.” she said. “That’s like saying, ooh my favorite color is bananas just because it’s yellow. The accurate color of gold is yellow with a metallic touch.” she argued as he rolled his eyes.

“Okay... so the color gold is a yellow with a metallic touch. Just like the color baby blue is mixed with white.” he said in general as she looked at him.

“Okay... so what two colors make gold then?” she asked him.

“Brown and Yellow.” he looked at her as her eyes was squinted. “Don’t believe me? Search it up.” he laughed before she rolled her eyes playfully, slouching in her seat. “Hmm. exactly.” he said knowing that she proved him wrong.

“Anyways.. your turn.” he said laughing. She thought of a question before saying,

“What is something that your afraid of?” He scoffed at the question, thinking that there was nothing he was scared of.

“Nothing.” she looked at him before rolling her eyes.

“Okay tough guy, everyone is scared of something.” she said as he chuckled.

“Not me.” she smirked before saying,

“So your not scared of getting an uncurbable disease. Or a loved one dying. Or being snapped out of existence?” she asked.

“Okay but that’s not the same.”

“It literally is the same. Everyone is scared of something, that doesn't mean nothing.” she mentioned. The two of them continued to argue about it as the jet entered the castles air wing.

She stood up as the plane landed before stretching. “Okay, I’m going to run in and grab everything that I need. I’ll be right out. I should be back in less than 10 minutes.” she told him typing in the entry pad code to open the side door.

“Why don’t I just come inside?” he asked her standing up. She turned around looking at him.

“That’s not a good idea. So just stay here.” she said stepping down the ramp. He stared at from behind before rolling his eyes.

She walked into the galley way, attempting to make her presence unknown but they were having dinner in the dining hall. Her father caught her figure trying to sneak pass the humongous arch way.

“Imani, how was Wakanda? I hope you acted accordingly!” he yelled behind her. She stopped closing her eyes before turning around. She stood in the arch way to see the three of them having dinner.

“No. I ran through the streets of Wakanda naked while singing America’s national anthem.” she said sarcastically. Her step-mother scoffed at her words before looking at her father,

“And you expect her to rule this country. Such pity.” she said. With a quick thought and faster way with her tongue she spat out,

“And tell me, what have you done to benefit this country?” she asked crossing her arms over her shoulder. Before she could answer she was cut off by Imani, “I’ve done more for this country as Princess than you have and ever will as queen.” she said, like venom dripping from her words.

“Don’t talk to my mother like that.” Amarah said standing up. All Imani could do was role her eyes.

“Well I would not have to talk to her like this if she knows when and when not to keep her lips touching.” she snapped back.

“That’s enough!” Her father snapped. “Imani, don’t speak to her that way.” he looked at her, as her step-mother smirked at her. But the smirk was quickly wiped away when he looked at her and said, “Don’t antagonize her. I would think you would know by now that she will say anything that she pleases. Don’t forget she’s my daughter.” he warned her. She cleared her throat looking down at her plate.

“Sit down. Eat. Tell me about your time in Wakanda.”

“Actually I can’t. T’Challa has invited me to stay at the palace so that Erik and I can get to know each other better.” she lied. Amarah’s face lit up at the name of Erik.

“Oh that’s good! See, I told you this wouldn’t be bad.” Her father said. She couldn’t help but mentally gag at those words.

“Hm it does sound delightful. Amarah, go upstairs and pack a bag. You should tag along to expand your resources.” her mother instructed her. She stood up happily from her seat but Imani stopped.

“No! She cannot come!” she said as the three of them stared.

“And why is that?” Amarah asked with a raised of her eyebrow. “It seems like you feel threatened by my presence.” she smirked.

“Actually no.” Erik came from behind the wall as her smirked turned to complete shock.

“Prince N’Jadaka. Oh my goodness, you’re here.” she said caught by surprised. Oshana stood up and so did her father.

“Did she have you wait outside? That is unacceptable. What must go through your mind to have him wait on your time and-”

“Actually no, once again. I was making a call.” he lied. Imani looked back at him squinting her eyes at him before he spoke up again. “Her being threatened by your presence have nothing to do with it.”

“Oh I didn’t mean it like-”

“She cannot come King Z’Kiri but maybe another time. The palace will be empty with just me and her with T’Challa going out for some business, and my Aunt won’t be in the palace until next week.” he cuts her off by crossing his arms over his chest. “We decided that we just wanted to use this time to get to know each other better and discuss plans for what we have for the countries.” he finished.

“Is this correct?” her father looked at her. She nodded her head in agreement.

“Yes. She would just be alone.” she responded. The look on Amarah’s face was seething with pure anger and jealousy. It was kind of soothing and funny that Erik stood up for her.

“Well, there will be another time when we all meet in Wakanda. And plus it is important that they create some bond and focus on what the two countries needs.” he said. Relief went through out her entire body as she looked at her with a smirk.

“Well I need to go grab my things that I need for the the next few nights.” she turned around walking up the stairs leaving Erik behind.

“That’s funny that’s she finally on board with this arranged marriage. All the crap that she was talking about the arrangements. About you.” her step mother replied picking up some of her salad with her fork.

“Oshana.” Her father warned her but all Erik did was shrug.

“To be fair, I don’t blame her. I’m not at all jumping with joy with being forced to marry someone that I don’t know, have no feelings for and have no type of love. And I’m sure she feels that way.. twenty times more.” he said leaning against on of the pillars that was in the dining hall.

“Well in this life we have the make sacrifices' in the life time to protect the ones we love, And one thing for certain she loves the people of this country very much.” her father said as he chuckled.

“Oh trust me. One of the many features that I do like about her.” he said. It was nothing but the truth. The way that she spoke about her country and it’s people, there was nothing that she wouldn’t do to protect them.

“That’s funny that you say that. Amarah here is going out tomorrow to the streets to volunteer for the children center.” she said with a smug smile.

“Yeah. Imani was suppose to come to help out but I guess it wasn’t that important to her.” Amarah said shaking her head in fake disappointment. Erik wasn’t stupid. He knew what they were doing. So he decided to step in.

“Is that so? So how many times have you done it?”

“Oh, this will be first time. I thought it was important that the kids understand that there are people in royalty who understands them.” she said as Erik nodded.

“And how long have you been here?” he asked.

“Oh I’ve been here for about-”

“That doesn’t matter.” her Oshana said cutting her off before she could answer.

“I mean, if you’re going to say that Imani doesn't find these kids important because she decided to skip one meeting in which she has gone ever since she was 18, that’s kind of a stretch don’t you think. Especially because you’ve been here for years.” he said in a matter of fact tone. The dinner table went quiet, Oshana trying to find out a way to defend her daughter. Imani came down at the right time before anything else could be said.

“Okay well we will be heading out now.” she said with her duffle bag over her shoulder. “By the way Amarah if your still down to come with me, Saturday is when I rescheduled to go with the kids. Just during the evening instead of in the morning.” she told him. Erik chuckled before shaking his head.

“Oh.. I uh actually was going to go out with some of my friends.” she said awkwardly.

“Oh... that’s more important than the kids?” Erik asked. Imani looked up at him in shock and confusion as her step mother gasped in disbelief.

“Erik.” Imani said hitting his chest in shock. The last thing that she wanted was to have any argument or have them feel some type of way just for them to sit up and here argue.

“Whatever let’s just head out.” he said standing up straight and walking out the hall. She saw the look on her step mother and step sister face, knowing that when she cam back there was going to be some shit.

- - - - - - - - - -

@life-in-the-slut-house @gloglamsparks @waveynaee @lalaooopsie @luvvvjada @nccu-rnc @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @leahnicole1219 @meeksmillsfrenchfries @hinatasfleshlight @kokokonako @junie04 @sourbabynaee @sociallyawkward18 @raysunshine78 @justgetitoverwith0 @lishabaybeee-blog@rbhp @ladymac82 @musicismeb @keviekevswife1 @chaneajoyyy @youlovechicky @sexicherri3 @amirra88 @jameica17695 @lishabaybee @softleoblue @automaticdragonmugalien @lynaye1993 @etherealluvrr @xsweetdellzx

#Erik Killmonger #erik stevens #erik kilmonger x reader #erik stevens x reader #t'challa #black panther #waanda #erik stevens imagines

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cousinconnie · 2 years

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💿Holo, love!💿 I really love ur content it makes me laugh every time. I'm being tortured by my period cramps rn so could you pls aot boys+girls reaction to y/n having period cramps (it's not essential for them to be in a relationship btw)

Thank you so much in advance - may the inspiration never leave you

I love YOUR content 😭🥰 sorry these were a little late I’m fighting demons rn (Aka ear infection *sobs*)

These can be read as romantic or just best friendship!

AOT Period comfort

Eren-

At first he wouldn’t get it 😐

Mikasa’s periods were always light and he didn’t pay attention to his mom’s periods like that and he’s also a dumb boy, so when he sees you in pain like that he’s like “wtf, get up”

Immediately regrets it if you start tearing up.

You tell him it’s your period and it really hurts and he’s like “ohh 😧 I see 🤔” meanwhile he’s panic texting Mikasa like “help wtf is a midol ‼️”

He has the spirit though, will literally do whatever you ask, treats your period like it’s an unpredictable beast holding you hostage 😭

Mikasa-

Like I said I think she’d have light periods (Ackerman blood 😵‍💫) so she wouldn’t know exactly what to do at first if your cramping really badly, but she’s a quick learner!!

MASSAGE QUEEN she’s so fucking good at it omg.

Makes you drink water non-stop, at the tiniest mention of any sort of pain she’s giving you pain meds. Literally wants to call out of work that week to take care of you 😷

Armin-

PANICS

He knows what to do, like in theory. But the moment he sees you in pain, all knowledge will fly out the window.

Hot water bottles. He owns like 30 of them, they are all yours now.

Any time he sees something online that’s like “this (item) helps with period relief” he panic buys it 😭

Like he knows it might not do anything but what if it does!! He doesn’t want to risk it.

Starts tracking your period for you and warns you when it’s coming up 💀

Sasha-

Probably also has her period 🗿

She’s so clingy so of course you guys have synched 😭 if your cramps are bad expect her to show up to your place with a bunch of foods that are high in vitamins (like bananas and broccoli) and a container of gummy vitamins for you both to share. Like the two of you are just eating banana bread and cheesy broccoli for the whole week.

Jean-

King would treat you like glass at first.

Like obviously you’re in pain so you wouldn’t mind being treated gently but he starts to (almost) take it too far (like gets stressed out if you roll over too fast). He eventually eases up but still doesn’t want you moving around too much. Like he very much doesn’t want to see you in pain. Buys you one of those stuffed animals that you can put in the microwave to help you 🥺

Connie-

He has a younger sister so he’s prepared. Will massage your back 🥰 you guys will be staying in and watching YouTube together. Touch is his love language so be prepared for him to act like your own personal heating pad. Has a note in his phone labeled ‘y/n period things’ so he knows what snacks you like and what you don’t like because he doesn’t want to forget.

Reiner-

Worse than Jean 🗿 will not let you go anywhere like literally you are only allowed to go to the bathroom. The first time he saw to cry because of cramps his heart BROKE and he’s so scared of seeing it again. Has heating pads and pain meds in his house that are only for you (and occasionally Gabi).

Levi-

Is surprisingly chill about it

Like you’d expect him to hate everything that had to do with periods because,,, it’s messy. But he doesn’t care.

If you bring it up to him he tells you period blood is cleaner than dirt. Which he’s correct but also whAT A WEIRD THING TO SAY⁉️⁉️⁉️

He’ll get you whatever you need, even if you just want his company.

(If he sees you cry over a cramp he vaguely wonders if it’s possible to beat up your uterus for doing this to you 🗿)

Hange-

Like Armin I feel like they would panic

Like seeing you cringing and holding your stomach, they’d be like “omg they’re dying?!?”

It turns into you comforting them over it 😐

The next day they come to you and are like “ SO I stayed up all night researching uteruses and periods!! 😄”

Gives you a detailed report.

Now they know EXACTLY what to do, like they can sooth a cramp in seconds it’s actually wild! And they’re really proud of it lmao. Deadass the best person to go to if your period is super painful.

+bonus smau

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 4 years

Text

Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations. The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week. The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

��

“…I’m here to see William Russo”.  

With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place. 

He only crossed the line once.

  You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday.   Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was.   You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again.   Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction.   Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along.   “We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on.   Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer.  

As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence.

  Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”   Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy.  You just couldn’t.  You couldn’t leave him.   There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him.   Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.

  That chest…

  …was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.  Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock, he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it?  

Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion.   He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”  You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”  

Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.  “…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him.   

A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

#billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fanfic #billy russo story #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #the punisher story #billy russo request

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lostinwildflowers · 3 years

Text

Sawamura Daichi x Reader

Summary: Prince Sawamura Daichi hasn't found a bride, so his parents take things into their own hands. He hates you, for he didn't get to choose the one he married, but life moves on as a royal. What will the outcome of your marriage be?

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, swearing, angst, and otherwise fluff :)

A/N: Hey y'all! This is MY SEVENTH FIC for The Barn's "Royal Rodeo Collab"! I had so much fun writing this fic for Daichi, and I hope everyone enjoys it! -Birch<3

A prince is the image of the kingdom: proud, handsome, informed, powerful, kind. They are expected to learn and make choices that will one day bring them to lead their kingdom and be wise with their power.

And Prince Sawamura Daichi from the kingdom of Karasuno was exactly that. He was well known and respected in the towns across his country, people would flock to greet him whenever he went to the villages to visit and learn about his people.

Everyone knew that he was a kind soul, and wanted to lead Karasuno with a solid will and unwavering, true morals. Daichi was practically the definition of what a prince should be, and for every prince, there should be a matching princess to rule by his side.

However, the beloved prince had yet to find a woman to make his bride, thus leaving the king and queen with few other options. The king decided to take things into his own hands, seeking out a princess from the kingdom of Inarizaki, one of the biggest rivals of Karasuno.

He bartered that if the princess married Daichi, a large chunk of land would be given to Inarizaki as a show of peace between the rivaling countries. That was the deal, and the king and queen from across the sea agreed, shipping off their daughter to the kingdom of Karasuno to get married.

Quick and angry-sounding footsteps boom out as the prince makes his way to a private meeting room, where he knew his mother and father would be alone. Daichi pushes the door open with a deep furrow in his brow, not wavering or flinching whenever the door made loud contact with the wall.

“What the hell is this?” Daichi whispers with fire in his eyes and rage in his voice. His eyes flash as he looks at his parents, who just share a concerned glance. The king sighs and then stands up, turning to face his eldest son.

“My son, you have not yet found a bride, and your mother and I are getting older. You weren’t going to find someone suitable to be queen someday on your own, and we need to have an heir as soon as possible. You will be getting married whenever she arrives, so I suggest getting changed,” the king states, arms folding formally behind his back.

Daichi swears he can feel his heart stop beating in his chest as he glances from his father’s face to his loving mother’s, who smiles at him sadly and nods. Daichi’s mouth falls open as tears burn at the edges of his eyes and he whispers, “I’ll never forgive you for this.”

At that, the prince turns on his heel, whipping out of the meeting room to storm down the halls toward his bedroom. Daichi rips the door open and then slams it closed with yet another loud bang, tears flooding his eyes and down his cheeks as he cries into his hands.

Daichi never wanted this. He wanted to find the right girl on his terms, not his parents. He was sure he would find someone just right for him, that they would fall in love and it would be perfect.

As Daichi brushes away the tears from his eyes to be met with a deep burgundy-colored suit hanging on his dresser, he knows. Daichi knows that even though he has never met you, he hates you.

He didn’t pick you. He didn’t want to marry you. There aren’t any feelings between the two of you, so why does this news hurt so damn much?

You can feel your chest tighten with nerves as you make your way off of your ship and onto the private docks of the king and queen of Karasuno. Your (colored) eyes are scanning and searching the small crowd for the people you would soon have to call family.

A maid of yours slips by, grabbing your bag and other small belongings as you make your way off of the ship, and you smile sadly knowing that this would be the last time you would see her.

Two wide smiles greet you, and there is a moment where you don’t feel nervous as you make eye contact with the king and queen. You lower yourself into a curtsey, and they respectfully bow and curtsey back before welcoming you with a warm hug.

You can hear movement behind the two royals, and as you pull away from the hug, you catch sight of hardened brown eyes, and you feel a subtly gasp leave your lips at the sight of him.

Your husband-to-be, Sawamura Daichi.

The queen regains your attention by gushing out, “You are so beautiful, Lady Y/n, you will do lovely for our son.” The king clears his throat and nods, “It’s lovely to have you, Lady Y/n. Welcome to the family.”

A scoff can be heard from behind the king and queen, who part to let the prince step forward, his eyes narrowed with a scowl. Daichi’s eyes rake up and down your form, an unamused look resting on his features before he mutters, “I could’ve picked someone much better than this.”

The king’s voice rings out as he snaps, “Son, shut your mouth and take your soon-to-be wife, and our guest, to your chambers. You need to get over yourself and start acting like the prince you’ve trained to become.”

Daichi doesn’t say anything, his eyes remaining cold and unwavering as he stiffly offers you his arm, which you slowly take as you glance from him and then to the ground. His words ring harshly in your head- someone much better…

You both remain quiet as Daichi leads you to the palace and into your shared room. It’s very tense as Daichi pulls his arm harshly away from you and mutters, “Your gown is in the closet. You have an hour and I’ll come to get you. Don’t be late.”

You flinch as he snaps the door shut, and you can feel hurt rise in your throat as you turn toward the closet. You hadn’t even said or done anything to the usually kind prince, so why was he determined to hurt you like this?

You set out to work in getting yourself ready, brushing a deep red lipstick to your mouth and some eyeshadows to your lids to match the red-colored theme of the wedding. Soon enough, you find yourself slipping into your dress, but you couldn’t quite finish zipping it up to your neck.

A knock on the door makes you jump as you grasp the front of the dress, eyes wide in panic. A gruff voice calls, “I’m coming in.”

At that, Daichi walks into the room, his eyes landing on you, barely widening before they resume their stoic nature. He strides over to you and growls, “I thought I told you to be ready.”

You furrow your own brows and snap back, “Well if you haven’t noticed, this dress wasn’t designed for the wearer to be the one taking it off and on!”

Daichi’s brown eyes flash with what could be rage, but he doesn’t make any rash moves as he whispers lowly, “Turn around.”

You go to argue with him, but the glint in his eye tells you otherwise, so you shuffle the best you can, moving the dress so that he wouldn’t step on it, but gave him access to your half-open back.

Large and warm hands rest around your ribcage as Daichi’s fingers find the zipper, tugging it upwards in a swift motion before he steps away, his eyes raking over your figure once again.

As you turn to fully face him, you almost expect a compliment from the way his eyes graze your form, but instead, you are left recoiling from the harsh words that fall from his lips.

“I’ll never love you. Not even once we’re married. Never,” he states as he turns on his heel, walking out of the room as he fights the image of you in a wedding dress out of his head.

You rush to follow him, grabbing at your skirts as you think to yourself, And I will never you love, Sawamura Daichi. You are a mean, insufferable man and I can’t believe I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with you.

The wedding is beautiful, and of course, picture-perfect. There are huge pots and wreaths of flowers covering every aisle in the church, intricate ribbons indicating where guests should funnel and go.

The high ceiling of the cathedral allows a mirage of colors to paint the walls as light floods in from the enormous stain-glass windows. People are bustling to their seats as the time gets closer to the ringing of the cathedral bells, their footsteps loud enough to drown out the soft melody coming from the organ.

Daichi looks handsome, smiling as he greets and talks to the honored guests of his wedding. His smile is fake, eyes not quite lit up enough for a man on his wedding day, but the commoners are too daft to even notice.

You, on the other hand, are the epitome of royal beauty. Your dress flows out from your waist in an elegant fashion. It’s not too loose, not too tight, and your hair and makeup look ethereal and regal. You’re waiting just outside the church, a few maids around you to help carry your dress up whenever the bells were to start ringing.

And just like that, people are settled into their seats, and music begins to play right as the bells start to chime. Flower girls, ring bearers, and people who were supposed to resemble bridesmaids and groomsmen are walking down the aisle, smiling brightly at the crowd, for it’s not every day you get to participate in a royal wedding.

Daichi finds his spot at the altar, and his eyes seem to focus on the door handle that he knew led to you. Two maids push the doors open with a wide swing, tossing red rose petals onto the ground as they scurried to the side, leaving the entire cathedral to stand at the sight of you.

There you stood, alone at the end of the aisle. Daichi felt tears stinging at the sore skin at the corner of his eyes, but not because of how beautiful you looked.

No, it was because he was getting married to a woman he had no desire to be with. He was getting married to a woman who he hated.

You make your way down the aisle confidently, blinking in thanks as you hear whispers of encouragement and praises of beauty as you make your way up to Daichi. Once at the front of the altar, you pass your intricate bouquet off and offer your hands for Daichi to take.

His hands are warm and rough in your own clammy and shaky ones, your heart racing as you look up from your entwined fingers to Daichi’s longing and saddened gaze. He manages to keep a smile on his lips, and you try to mimic that to keep up the ongoing production.

The vows pass quickly and meaninglessly, the words empty promises that held no weight as the priest monologued on. You almost forgot about the last part though, eyes so fixed on learning the curve of Daichi’s face while not making a fool out of yourself.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest’s voice says lightly, and you can feel the energy of the room turn electric as the crowd waits for Daichi to kiss you. You note the pain and struggle in Daichi’s eyes as he pulls his hands away from your own, and rests them on your waist instead.

He leans in slowly, pulling you flush against him before he changes his mind. Daichi keeps a firm hold on you as he brings you across his body as lowers you into a full-on dip. Your face is one of surprise as he brings his face to yours, his lips aimed toward your own in a kiss.

To the crowd in the pews, Daichi just pulled you into a dramatic kiss to give the new love of his life a memory worthy kiss. But to you, Daichi pulled you into a bridal dip so that his lips didn’t have to fully rest on your own, and angled just right, could plant his kiss just on the edge of your mouth instead.

The crowd whoops and hollers he holds you there for a second, his lips lingering near your cheek as he whispers, “Try to look like I just gave you the best damn kiss of your life.”

You blink up at him, slightly dazed as he pulls you out of the low dip, his hand lacing with your own as he shoots a wide grin toward his people, raising one arm to wave at them as you regain your balance and smile as you see the maids of honor giggle at the flush on your cheeks.

You almost stumble as Daichi begins to pull you down the aisle, but his firm grip on your hand keeps you from doing so, and he tucks you under his arm stiffly as he continues to play the part of the perfect and happy prince.

Daichi had insisted to his parents that he did not want a reception, and they at least respected that, so they dismissed everyone from the church as Daichi helped you up and into the carriage to take you back to the palace.

You remain quiet as the carriage rolls back to the castle, and you can feel your throat tighten as you realize what’s usually expected of the bride and groom on the night of their wedding.

Daichi is silent as he leads you through the unfamiliar hallways back to the room where you had first gotten changed. He locks the door behind the two of you and begins to take off his burgundy jacket, followed by the sharp black bowtie that had been knotted around his neck.

You swallow shakily when you realize that you can’t get out of the dress yourself and you take a step backward as Daichi turns to you, his gaze sharp and emotionless.

“Turn,” the command comes, and you feel tears returning to your eyes as you flinch under his touch. Daichi pulls his hands away at your sudden movement, and his eyes slightly soften as he mutters, “I’m just helping you unzip. There are clothes in the bathroom you can change into.”

At his words, you carefully shuffle back over to him, where his hands find the zipper at the top of your neck and pulls it the whole way down to the end of your spine. Without another word, he turns away and walks back over to his dresser, allowing you to slip into the bathroom.

You let out a huge and relieved sigh whenever you shut the bathroom door behind you, confident enough that Daichi wouldn’t walk in on you as you step out of the dress and change into a simple nightgown.

You find the hanger that the dress had been on, and do your best to hang it up the way you found it. You go through the motions of brushing your hair and teeth, wiping the makeup off, and mentally preparing yourself to sleep next to your husband for the night.

Husband. You still couldn’t believe that you were married to a man who hated you and had barely shown you a glimpse of kindness.

When you return to the bedroom, Daichi has already slid under the covers and is laying on his back, brown eyes trained toward the ceiling. They glance at you as you make your way over to the other side of the bed, hesitantly laying on your side with your back facing him on the edge of the mattress.

The night slides by quietly, where no conversations or stories are shared. Daichi makes no move to get anywhere near you or touch you, so you let yourself rest without the worry of needing to consummate your marriage.

The next few months are cold and dry as winter comes and freezes the kingdom of Karasuno over. The chill of the wintery season hits you hard, making you numb to your surroundings as you fill in the new role of “Princess Y/n L/n, future queen of Karasuno and married to Prince Sawamura Daichi”.

Thankfully, you could almost call Daichi an acquaintance at this point. He had opened up slightly over the few months from summer into autumn, seeing as he was going to have to live with you for the rest of his life.

The two of you would never talk about the way he would occasionally hold you while laying in bed whenever the night would be extra chilly, or the way he would rub your back when you would wake up from a particularly grueling nightmare.

In turn for his small and kind actions, you would bring him the intermittent gifts of a small lunch, or a snack bag with his favorite fruits that you’d come to learn by just watching. When his meetings and practices were long, he always forgot to eat, so the little gifts caught him off-guard more than they should have.

The small actions between the two of you continued, and slowly but surely the actions started to turn into words. If you were up reading late into the evenings when Daichi finally managed to slip back into your room, he would ask you what you were reading.

Sometimes you would read for him, lulling him to sleep with your voice before you would get up to blow all of the candles out. There was one time you stopped reading because you thought he fell asleep, but then you heard him mumble, “And then what?”

You had to calm your heart and the flush on your cheeks as you began to read again, this time with Daichi’s eyes half focused on your face and half focused on the words falling from your lips.

Nights like these hung in your mind as you found yourself growing fond of the brown-haired prince. You liked how Daichi was treating you, just like how he treated everyone. You could see the soft and kind side to him that everyone raved about, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

It’s the night of your first anniversary as a married couple. As husband and wife. You weren’t really sure what to do, because Daichi hadn’t said anything, and neither had the king or queen.

You were writing at one of the desks in your shared bedroom, scribbling down a letter to send to your mother and father, letting them know how you were. The door to your room swings open, and you are surprised to see Daichi standing in the doorway.

In his hands, he holds two plates of steaming food, with the faintest blush hanging on the bridge of his nose and the tips of his ears. He wore a simple, white shirt with black slacks, and yet he managed to look utterly handsome in the basic outfit.

He walks over to you, setting the plates down on the desk before hurrying back over to the door, shutting it a little too harshly. You set down your inked feather carefully as you glance from the food and back over to Daichi, confusion evident in your expression as he sits down across from you.

Daichi pulls out neatly wrapped silverware, handing a bundle to you as he states, “I canceled all of my meetings for this evening.”

You blink in surprise as you take the silverware from his hands and mumble, “You didn’t have to do that, Daichi.” He shrugs as he unwraps his utensils and mutters, “It’s the least I could do. Happy anniversary, Y/n.”

You smile at him as he takes a bite of the pasta and you think to yourself, Happy anniversary, Daichi. The food is quite delicious as you start eating, and you bring yourself to have a pleasant conversation as the two of you munch away.

Soon enough, dinner slides by and you are pleasantly full, and Daichi looks the same. He offers you his hand as he stands up and murmurs, “Shall we?”

You take his hand, much more confidently than you had a year ago, and allow him to help you to your feet. He pressed your hand to his arm, a smile on his lips as he guides you out the backside of your room, into a private garden where the moonlight shined bright.

The two of you walk around the garden in pleasant silence for a while, and you can feel your grip tightening around Daichi’s muscular forearm as you walk. He doesn’t seem to mind it, as he rests his opposite hand over the top of yours as you meander around.

Daichi ends up leading you out of the garden and over to a large field alongside of the castle, and you stumble slightly at the more uneven ground. Daichi is quiet as he pulls your hands away from him, but then securely wraps his arm around your waist, tugging you to his side.

You flush under the close proximity, and you can’t help but blink at him in awe as the moonlight bounces off of his sharp and angled features, making him look even more handsome. Daichi glances down at you and smiles, a real smile where you can see his pearly whites, and you can’t help but smile back.

He guides you onto the ground before sitting next to you, your (colored) eyes focused on the stars and galaxies above you. Daichi watches the sky for a minute before looking over at you, noting the way your hair framed your face and how your lips were just barely parted open.

“I never hated you,” his voice comes out, soft and low in a slow whisper. Your eyes widen before you turn your head to face him, and you are met with a soft and embarrassed flush on Daichi’s cheeks.

“What?” you whisper, fully turning your body to face him as you tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Daichi shrugs and continues, “I was upset that I didn’t get to pick who I fell in love with, so I vowed that I would never love you.”

You nod in return, your eyes moving toward the ground as you begin to pick at the grass while you say, “I was… I was actually excited to be married to you, Daichi. I had heard of this kind and handsome prince from across the sea, and I was excited. And then...”

You sigh at the end of your words and shoot him a tight-lipped smile and Daichi picks up where you left off, “And then you experienced me first hand and decided I wasn’t what you had conjured up in your head. And that I was more handsome than you were expecting.”

You roll your eyes as you playfully shove at him, but Daichi expects this, so he allows your body to move on top of his own, his hands gripping at your waist as you look down at him surprised.

He brushes that stray piece of hair out of your eyes and murmurs, “I’m sorry for being a jerk to you all of these months.”

You relax in his grip and whisper back, “It’s okay, Daichi. You couldn’t have fallen in love with someone you were being forced to marry.”

Daichi doesn’t respond for a moment, his eyes just flick over your face, noting the soft curve of your cheek that’s lit up by the moon. He tries to burn the memory of your eyes twinkling into his head forever.

When he doesn’t respond, you get a little worried. You shuffle from where you lay on top of him and whisper, “Daichi? What did you me-” “But I am in love with you, dammit!”

Daichi’s words knock the air out of your lungs and cause butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Your heart skips and palpates a few times before setting into a rapid beat that makes you shake your head a few times to clear your thoughts.

“Daichi- I...” your words trail off as your gaze flicks around his face, searching for any hint of deception. When you don’t find any you giggle out, “Well you big doofus, I love you too.”

The prince laughs at the nickname, and you can feel his chest vibrate with the heft of his laugh, and his grip tightens on your waist so you don’t go too far. Daichi slows his laugh down to a soft chuckle before cupping your face gently with one hand.

He brushes his thumb along the curve of your cheek, and you lean into his tender touch as your eyes flutter closed. Daichi runs his thumb just to the corner of your mouth and whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

You give him a simple nod, allowing him to lean upwards to catch your lips with his own while his hand moves to the backside of your head.

This kiss is a lot different from the one he gave you at your wedding.

This one is sweet and warm, and Daichi’s body is soft but firm under your touch, and you are pliant and willing in his grasp. A quiet groan leaves his lips as he tastes your mouth, his lips moving slowly against your own as he pulls you close under the midnight stars.

When you finally pull away to catch your breath you gasp out, “I’ll always love you, Daichi.” The brown-haired prince smiles up at you and replies, “And I will always love you too, my queen.”

It was a long year of back and forths, highs and lows, hate and love. But it seems that whenever you would say “never”, it might have meant “always” instead.

Tag List: @mysterystarz @mortedeveles @vs-redemption @kal0psi-a @gin-no-g @starstruckkittensweets @kitacharm@babieweeb @shirari @animated-moon

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insufferablelust · 4 years

Note

Cockwarming Don Reid with his men in the next room

Warning : Cockwarming, mob boss! Spencer, Mean dom!spencer, mention of killing, degrading name calling, filthy.. so fucking filthy, exhibitionism, literally almost fucking in front of people, mention of sub space, d/s theme obviously, and yeah.. 18+ please.

MASTERLIST HERE.

“Princess, come here.” Spencer pat his lap with a burning gaze directed to the cute little thing sat ontop of his office couch like a queen. Work days usually means no playing around, for Y/N it’s one of those days where she’d usually spend at her apartment doing her tasks or paint something for the young don.

But on rare occasions such this, where all the workload of responsibilities upon responsibilities piled on his shoulder, he’d bring her in, he’d tell her to sit all pretty, and continue to study unless daddy calls and that’s exactly she has been doing for hours now, sketching the wooden figurine on his shelf with her legs up the table and her back rests against the couch. She looks prettier than usual he thought, not that his butterfly never look anything less than amazing but she just radiates that softness, that gentle and tender touch which he often depraved himself of— being in the mob especially as the leader, he has to be on the rough rugged edge all the time, he cannot be tender and soft but he can certainly have you as his own personal reminder that not all things in life is as bad as what he has seen.

Y/N, the darling butterfly happily obliged as she stood up after placing her sketchbook down the table and make her way to where he sits on the large chair— colored burgundy red. The soft knitted knee high socks that clad her feet anxiously drags her to the edge of his desk with her fingers fumbling on the hem of her flower dress, no matter where and when, or how and why— he always intimidates her in ways that seemed to flutter her insides with pure wanton yet desirable lust, all for him.

Encased in a black suit, he sat up straight as he holds her hips before placing her down atop his lap with her back against his front, his perfect little princess. “Dressed so prettily for daddy. Haven’t seen this one before pet, did you buy them just to impress me hm?” if it were any other man, talking to you like you owe them you would flip their asses off and beat them to pulp— but when he says it, demands it, caress your soul with it— you couldn’t refuse nor deny.. not that you would ever want to anyway because yes, yes you did buy them to impress him, to make him as weak as she is for him.

She nodded shyly with a small “yes daddy” before squirming gently ontop of his lap whilst Spencer caress her inner thigh— calloused rough fingers brushing up and down her god glowing skin, intensifying all the tension that builds inside of her. Her skin prickled with heat as he inches his sinful fingertips up up up creeping upon her clothed dripping wet cunt, causing her to mewl lowly in frustration, grinding her ass back against his growing crotch.

“Daddy has so many things today pet, so many fucking things to keep you happy, to buy dresses like this one.” He whispered onto your ear, his lips pressing against your temple with his curls gazes against your heating cheek as you nod and shut your eyes tight— feeling his knuckles graze right against your clothed aching swollen clit, making you buck up your hips as he laughs behind you, chest rumbling with triumph.

“Jesus petal, haven’t done anything and you’re soaking my pants already? are you always this needy? fucking hell.” He shook his head as he keep on laughing condescendingly, whilst you writhed and squirm on his lap, your face nudging against his neck. “Please d-daddy..” Oh how he loves your mewls, your sweet sweet moans just sent all the blood from his head rushing down toward his cock— making him all dizzy and dying to feel your clutching heat.

“Shh you want Morgan to hear you, is that it? want my men to hear your filthy moans, bunny?” His words sent tingles up your spine, through your bloodstream as his fingers skillfully tear your panties apart, with you gasping— eyes as glassy as ever and mind absolutely mush with tension and pleasure. “Daddy asked you a question.” He growled, before slapping your bare wet soaking cunt few times which you respond with loud cries and squirm on his lap.

“Sorry daddy! f— please i... oh mmh!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you feel his thumb grazing innocently to your little nub of pleasure numbing nerves, flicking his thumb up and down it focusing on the rhythm as he might as well play you like his favorite instrument. “All needy and you can’t even get a proper word out, such a mindless baby.” He scoffed before slapping right on your clit multiple times.

“Ah! Ah oh! daddy!” You screamed, having no care in the world if his men heard— you knew in the back of your mind that they heard and that alone sends a new surge of adrenaline throughout your body, leaving you pliant and in need for daddy— daddy’s cock, fingers, anything just anything. “Here’s what you’re going to do, pup. You’re going to keep daddy’s cock warm whilst i do my job, if you behave like a good little girl then i’ll let you cum, but if you decided to think with your cunt and move i swear to god i’ll edge you six fuckin ways to sunday, you hear me?” You felt him fumbling with his zipper as he took his cock out, with you whining— babbling ‘yes yes yes daddy’ against his skin, eyes all droopy and fucked with your neatly applied mascara drip down your cheeks.

“Up you go pet, slide daddy in.” You shakily stand, bunching the hem of your dress on your hips before you straddled his thigh and looks down to get ahold the base of his well endowed cock— pulsing with need and heat. “Fuck, go on.” He urged you as he grab ahold of your hips before you lined him up with your sopping wet entrance and sink down slowly— down his massive throbbing length that has you moaning, panting.

“You can do better than that slut”

Smack!

“N-no! daddy please help! please i— ungh you’re too big!” You shook your head as you tried and tried to take him, all of him but everytime you sink another inch— your body felt like it’s been penetrated into a whole new level as if it hadn’t this morning or the night before, “Fucking helpless baby, look at you, pathetic and needy.” He growled before thrusting up inside you at once, forcing his thick length to slip fully inside your pumping dripping heat causing you both to moan out.

“Oh! oh mmh daddy.. shit..” You felt him deep, deep deep inside you, the tip of him grazing against your spot oh so deliciously, whilst you pant and convulse against him, clutching his cock like a vice. “Perfect little cunt, such a perfect doll for me.”

—

You’re convinced that if god was real, at this moment god must hate you for existing, must hate you so much that the universe sent you this adonis of a man to torture and blur the line of sanity and lunacy for you, torment your pleasure in mockery and sarcasm of how he stayed calm with you perched on his godly lap, panting like a puppy in heat as his thick length penetrated your insides as if it belongs there— forcing every bit of your self control over the teetering edge. You’re loosing your mind, that you’re sure of.

It has been no longer than 30 minutes but your toes have curled and uncurled themselves for eternity, your walls grew slicker and slicker each time he ‘shift’ accidentally, as you mewl and bit the skin on his neck, by the last minute of the long 30– you were trembling in order to resist yourself not to move, for the last bit of your working mind still recognized how severe the punishment would be if you were to move, the don is not one to fuck around with— oops.

Just as he stretches his hand, the knock of the door sent you into a spiraling mess, looking up to Spencer with wide eyes— all glassy and doe as you shook your head, “Daddy, d-daddy n-no..” Shivers runs deep and thrumming lively on your bloodstream as you saw his devilish handsome smirk.

“Be good and quiet, pup.” He whispers

“N-no! no daddy please! i—“

“Come in.” The sound of his voice and door cracking open has you shutting your eyes as tight as you could, face buried on the crook of his neck as he grips onto your thigh. You took a peek at the tall standing figure on the middle of his office, recognizing so clearly that it’s in fact Hotch not only that Emily and Morgan were also present, fuck— you’re fucked as you clenched hard causing the don to hiss and slap your thigh.

“What did i tell you about behaving hm? are you going to behave or should i let them deliver your punishment for you little one?” He growled in your ear, making you let out a pitiful whimper, trying as best as you could to resist the need to look at your patrons and to stay still. “No please, i’ll behave.” you muttered meekly, panting at the raging burning release that has been coiling inside your body.

“No please what? you know better, minx.” He shook his head before grasping your neck with his palm as he take a look at your messy figure. “No daddy p-please..” you bat your eyelash at him as he went in to kiss your lips with a small ‘good girl’ before getting back to his business.

“What is it?” He muttered coldly, one hand on the whiskey glass that he took a sip off every once in awhile and the other secured tightly around your lower tummy— you knew what he’s doing, the game is clear, you knew he likes to feel how you can feel him inside of you, pressing against your sweet spot and your slick canal tried so hard not to clench at the thought.

“The shipment hasn’t arrived yet to midtown, it supposed to days ago but we just heard from Garcia that the Kingsley’s hadn’t even reached out to her in weeks.” Although confident, you could tell there’s a hint of fear and worrisome latched behind Hotch’s voice, one does not fuck with your dom, one does not absolutely delay the shipment of his drugs— no no those cannot do.

“Have you traced it back to them?” The voice that rumbled against your back was eerily calm and deeper, resisting every urge inside his body to lash out— you know that very well. His fingers tighten and tighten its hold onto the glass which you could clearly see his knuckles turning white, you just hope that the poor glass won’t break.

“Yes don, Walker and Alvez went to their base and it was empty, looks like they left in a hurry.” You could feel it before you even see it, heard it, the way his blood pumps just even faster before a lound cracking of the wood sent fear and adrenaline through everyone’s bloodstream, “I don’t fucking care how many, and who’re you going to kill, but i want that fucking shipment arrived to midtown by dawn or i’ll pluck their own eyes myself.” His voice somehow rise and fell deeper at the same time, rumbling deep inside his chest which send shivers on everyone’s spine as they nod with a small uniformed ‘yes don’ before heading out hurrily— no one questions him, no one dared to speak against him, even if they know they’ll have the bloods of people (though bad) on their hands by nightfall.

His threat lives like a venom that stuck on their throat as they pursued their mission— one don does not get his hand dirty let alone going round plucking some low life mob’s eyes— or the end result could be.. would be catastrophic. These Kingsleys have one hell of a problem heading their way.

and you.. you have one hell of a raging frustratingly mad Mob boss in your hand.

—

Y/N’s head couldn’t even process the whole thing before she screamed in absolute pain when he pulled out harshly and bent her over his desk, knocking his whiskey glass onto the floor, clattering with no care in a world. Your mind begs for you to soothe him, soothe his anger yet your cunt aches and throbs with the need to let him use you— take the anger out to you, and ruin you for eternity. You’re his, and you’re ready.

“Stay fucking still.” Spencer slapped your ass harshly, causing you to jump in the position, your legs curled up for a moment as he gripped your hair tightly and grasp your neck with his unoccupied hand, “You’re going to stay still and be a good cocksleeve for me, i’m going to use you like you’re my toy and i won’t stop unless you say your safeword, got it?” His breath fans over your heated skin as you shake and tremble, your mind fuzzy with needs and mush of pleasure— blurring your absolute senses and submitting yourself fully to the mercy of his hand— his cock.

“Use your words, dumb little slut.” He hissed, choking your neck even tighter, with much force and you cried out, “Yes! yes sir, use me, i.. i’m yours..” just as you muttered out, your walls involuntary clenching at the intrusion of his cock plunging deep deep deep inside of you in one go, making you scream out in absolute pleasure and pain.

Spencer might’ve seen red— but when he delves deep inside of your tight heat, he saw the absolute heaven on earth as he begins to thrust in and out of your cunt in a brutal space, knocking his desk toppers off, and making you mewls and screams.

“Fucking tight little cunt— mine huh? isn’t it fucking mine pup?” He slammed into you over and over again as his balls hit your clit in an antagonizing pleasure whilst you writhe below him, forcing your eyes to stay open with all the power in your body looses control. “Its— mmmh ngh fuck! it’s y-yours sir! yes yes yes!” Your moans filled the entire building but neither of you care as Spencer drove his cock home everytime he sinks inside your tight pussy.

“Being such a good whore, letting me use you as my personal fucktoy, just to let my anger out.” He laughs maniacally, pistoning his hips as you clench your walls tightly to elevate the pleasure for you both, causing the room to tremble as you moan and cries out loud, “ungh yes! yes yes your whore daddy— mmh fuck me!” You could feel all the drool drips down your lips as he fucked you stupid atop of his desk but neither of you care nor have the patience to even pay attention because in his mind— the messier the better.

“Won’t be able to walk for days, pet. Fucking cunt going to drool for me everytime you see all the marks i fucking left on you.” He growled, bringing his palm over your ass before giving it a smack over and over again as your body lunges forward trying to get away with how all the friction is causing you to went into over sensitivity. But being the mean dom that he is, Spencer laughs as he pulled you back towards him by your hips. “Where are you going, bunny?”

“Please p-please let me cum, sir... ah!” You arched your back perfectly when the tip of his finger move down down down to where your swollen sensitive clit was, rubbing quickly in a fast pace just to send you over the edge, testing you, daring the orgasm out of you. “Wanna cum petal? hm wanna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” He whispered, one hand continues to rub your clit as the other focuses on holding you against him whilst his hips drives up deep— so deep that the tip grazes against your cervix.

“mmhh ah uh uh uh!” Your eyes lolled back trying to find a cohorent sentence— anything you can say to him but no matter what you’re trying to say was rendered to sinful moans and cries instead as you were right on the brink, “You can do better than that, c’mon bunny, beg daddy to cum.” he stills for a second, pressing in deep as he slaps your cheeks not once but twice— bringing fresh tears flows from your eyes.

“I.. ungh please daddy please! let me cum! been so good for you, please— want you to fill me up too.. fill your baby up, daddy!” Your high pitched voice rang an alarm through the circuit of his lust and anger laced mind, you’re slipping into your space and you’re slipping fast with your eyes just glazes absolutely flying through the realm of pleasure sensitivity.

“Good girl butterfly, such a good fucking girl, wanna cum? c’mon cum..” He whispered, before thrusting his hips in and out slowly, feeling the bliss of your overly wet and tight cunt engulfing him— milking him to cum inside, “Cum for daddy, princess, that’s it.. ohh... that’s it baby, good girl.” You cried out silently as you cum hard around his cock, muscles clenching so tightly that you sent him to release himself inside of you, thick ropes of cum paints your inside as you both moan and tremble.

“My good girl, shh thats it— best cunt ever.. that’s it, so so good for me.” He whispered softly, backing down to where his chair was pushed aside, bringing you with him before sitting down. You groaned out a loud scratchy, “daddy..” As you feel his cock shifted deeper inside of you, your eyes closed as he holds you and calms you down.

“Shh shh princess, just stay here like this. such a good girl, gonna keep me warm while i wait for them aren’t you?”

Although your cunt practically ache and scream for you to not say yes, your love and lust filled mind fogged with utter desire— just nods whining an agreeable mumble— just for him.

This will be a long long day and even a longer night.

#littlebutterfly #spencer reid smut #insufferableblurb #mgg smut #dom!mgg #dom!spencer #smut #criminal minds smut

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Seven

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Violence, Language (Maybe)

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: hello friends! Enjoy this plz. also idk what’s wrong but I’m having a hard time remembering things and my brain is just super mush. I think I’m like, malnourished and exhausted but I really don’t know. Goodnight though, I love you all!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

“How many times must I explain this? I hardly remember anything. I could barely see his face through the snow. I know not his name nor his rank, all I know is that he was wearing the armour of a Knight.” You’re getting frustrated now as you explain for what feels like the thousandth time what happened before you ventured out into the snow.

James and Steve exchange glances.

“I did not send for her. And I know you would not trust her safety in the hands of anyone who has not fought alongside you in battle. I believe-” James stops speaking abruptly, shaking his head. He’s not sure who is trying to sabotage his marriage, and he doesn’t want them to know that he knows.

“What?” You ask softly, stepping towards him. He takes a step back and you frown. You’d thought that after the night you had spent with the man that he would be more open to having you, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Nat!” The redhead is in Steve’s office as soon as he says her name.

“I want you or Sam with (Y/n) at all times. You may only leave her side if you are directly dismissed by one of the three of us. Do you understand?” She nods, guilt heavy in her gut at the fact that you could’ve died because of her carelessness.

“Have Clint bring the stable boy here. I want him to give me details. I need to know who the traitor is and why they want my wife dead,” Steve says after a moment, his eyes hard at the thought of someone wanting to bring you harm.

“I’ll go,” James pipes in, avoiding your eyes as he walks to the door, closing it tightly behind himself.

Your shoulders slump and you shake your head sadly. “I had thought that after our night... we may be starting to rebuild our relationship. However, it seems as though he does not wish for that to happen.” Steve sighs, walking around his desk to wrap his arms around your frame.

“He is sad and afraid. He has not been himself for a long while, but he will come back.” Your bottom lip quivers and you curse yourself for being so emotional.

“I do not wish to be the cause of his unhappiness. At times I wonder if it would be better if I stayed away. If I allowed the two of you to continue as if I were not here at all.” Steve turns you around and lifts your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“You are very important to both of us. If he truly wanted you out of the picture he would not have gone out to find you. You matter far too much to the both of us. He will come around again, he just needs some time.”

A knock on the door pulls your attention from him and you sniffle, wiping a stray tear off of your cheek.

“Come in.”

The door gets pushed open and a red-faced young man scurries in, his eyes focused on the ground as he bows.

“Y-you called for me, Your Majesties?” Your heart warms at the obvious nervousness.

“What is your name?” You ask, cutting Steve off. He raises his eyebrows at you and you simply smile, taking a step away from him and towards the boy.

“P-Peter, Your Majesty. A-and I did not mean for any harm to come to you. I was led to believe that the man was indeed a knight of the king and that the business transpiring was none that should involve me. I ask that you are lenient in your punishment, for I truly enjoy my position and I am so grateful that you have given me the opportunity to work here. I-” You raise your hand, silencing his rambling and looking every bit like the queen you are.

Steve watches from behind you, never having seen you truly take control of the title you have.

“You will not be punished for following the orders of someone who seemed to be an honest man. No harm came from it. We simply would like to know if you have any recollection of his name or his rank. Or perhaps a description of his appearance.” The boy stares at you in shock before looking to the King. Steve simply nods and the boy inhales deeply.

“I did not gather his name nor his rank, Your Majesty. But he seemed tall. Not as tall as the King, Mind you, but still taller than most knights. And his build was slimmer, which I found surprising. I should’ve questioned it and I will spend my days regretting that I did not because our Kingdom could have lost its queen due to my carelessness and-”

“Peter, please stay focused,” Steve says. The boy swallows hard and nods, clearing his throat before speaking again.

“He had... dark hair and dark eyes... bared no resemblance to any knight I’ve ever seen before. He lacked the composure of a knight as well. It almost seemed as if he were trying to mimic the actions of one.” You turn to Steve, brows raised at this new information.

“Thank you, Peter. That will be all.” The boy bows again then hurries out of the room.

“So someone was able to pose as a knight? But who? And why? I hardly have a purpose in the kingdom. Why did I become a target?” Steve shakes his head, wishing he had the answers of which you seek.

“I know not. But I will be bringing this up when James and I meet with the council next. Any threat against our wife is a direct threat against our kingdom, and justice needs to be served.” The mention of your other husband has your heart aching.

“Do... do you think he would talk to me were I to find him?” You ask. Steve purses his lips. James seemed so comfortable with you the other night. He hates the thought, but maybe it’s his presence that is making James so distant.

“There is no harm in trying. Have Natalia accompany you.” You nod, gathering your skirts and hurrying out of the room, the redhead hot on your heels.

“I offer you my sincerest apologies, your majesty. I should have been there.” You shake your head at her, smiling softly.

“Do not apologize, Natalia. No one was harmed.” you pause just as you’re about to walk past the glass doors leading to the gardens, a glint of silver catching your eye.

“You may wait here. I fear having any more of an audience will only have a negative effect,” you whisper, pushing the door open and venturing into the snow.

Natalia stands just outside the door, watching with her hand on the hilt of her sword as you walk down the path towards the brooding king.

“James?” You call, waiting until he looks at you.

“You should not be here,” he murmurs, his eyes closing tightly and his hands clenching into fists. He huffs out heavy breaths through his nose, the air forming a misty cloud that dissipates slowly.

“James, please. I cannot stand the distance you put between us. I am begging you to let me in.” He grinds his teeth together, his face contorting in what looks like pain before suddenly going stoic.

He’s quiet for a long moment, long enough for you to slowly approach him, fingers prickling in the cold winter air.

“James?” You ask softly, hoping he’s ready to open up to you again.

His eyes snap open and in a flash of silver, he’s got his metal hand wrapped around your throat, fingers flexing and nearly crushing your windpipe.

Your eyes widen and you instinctively grab at the metal appendage.

His face is devoid of emotion as he lifts you nearly clean off the ground, the tips of your toes hardly brushing the ground. Your lungs burn and tears of pain and discomfort well up in your eyes.

There’s a whooshing sound and then he grunts, toppling to the left and dropping you to the ground.

You collapse in a heap, hands grabbing at your throat protectively as you draw in huge lungfuls of air between painful coughs.

The sound of metal clanging against metal has your eyes shooting upwards just in time to see two swords connect above you, one belonging to the king and the other belonging to Natalia.

“Your Majesty, get back!” She shouts, her eyes on you for a brief moment.

You scramble through the snow, trying to get to the palace and call for help.

James overpowers the redhead with practiced ease, and then his murderous gaze is focused on you again.

Fear freezes you in place and you stare up at him with wide eyes while Natalia is screaming for him to stop, for someone to come to your aid.

His sword comes down right as a powerful hand jerks you to the side.

The blow that was meant to kill you draws a red line across your cheek, blood spilling out and trailing down your chin.

The hot liquid splatters against the frozen snow, melting a hole and staining the white.

For a moment you’re reminded of your place in the world. A stain against purity. A mistake.

You’re wrenched back to reality by hands yanking you backwards, away from where the two Kings fight each other, Steve with desperation and James with determination.

“Come, Majesty.” Nat helps you inside but you don’t move past the doors, heart hammering in your chest as guards rush out to help the blond king.

“Your Majesty, you’re injured. We must-” you shake your head at her, eyes far too focused on the fight.

James manages to knock Steve’s sword away but is quickly distracted by the other men, giving the blond an opportunity to deliver a nasty blow to the back of his head.

The brunet collapses in the snow, groaning and grabbing his head.

You watch with nothing but terror and tears in your eyes as he slowly pushes himself to his knees, familiar blue eyes looking around in confusion.

They land on you, blood on your cheek and fear in your eyes and he nearly throws up as he realizes what he’s done.

“James?” He shakes his head at Steve, stumbling to his feet and hurrying into the Palace.

“James!” He runs straight past you and down the hallway, disappearing after a few moments.

Steve stands in the snow, blue eyes narrowed and pink lips parted. He pants, trying to gather his thoughts while the cold air bites his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Steve is at your side in a flash, his hand cupping your cheek and angling your head to allow himself to inspect your wound.

“Just a scratch,” he murmurs, brows drawn together as he glances to where his husband was.

Your eyes, however, are drawn to a movement in the garden.

A familiar pair of muddy brown eyes stand out against the snow and you inhale sharply.

“Steve, it’s him.” He follows your gaze to the garden,

“Guards!” He shouts, grabbing his sword and hurrying out into the snow.

“Please, your majesty. I need to tend to your wound.” You finally allow Natalia to drag you away, but not before hearing Steve mention something about the dungeon to one of the guards with him.

~*~

You toss and turn all throughout the night, missing the warmth of your husband and beyond afraid at the events of the day.

Not only were you attacked, but you also potentially caught the man who wants you dead.

The worst part? Steve has given you zero information. No matter how much you asked, he refused to say a single thing about James or the stranger in the garden.

So that is how you have ended up here, pacing through the dark palace halls in search of your blond husband.

As you’re leaving his empty office you hear a whisper of your name, followed by a soft laugh.

You frown and follow the sound, the voice beckoning you closer and yet getting further away every time you approach.

The voice leads you through the halls for what feels like hours until you find yourself in front of a wooden door that nearly blends in with the walls around it.

Steadying yourself with a deep breath, you push the door open. It creaks loudly and you instinctively look around to make sure that no one heard.

Once deeming the coast to be clear, you slowly walk through the doorway and nearly fall.

It’s a spiral staircase going downwards.

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you take the steps one at a time, getting reminded of all the times you snuck around the Palace back home.

Through the darkness, there’s a yellow glow that you identify as candlelight.

You dare not step into the light, so instead, you stay tucked safely around the corner, ears straining to hear... anything.

You make out two voices, one of them far more familiar than the other.

“I am going to ask you one last time: who is it that is plotting against me?” Steve demands.

The other man sounds weak, his breath coming in ragged pants.

You risk a glance around the corner, eyes finding the two in the dimly lit room. Th man on the ground is bloody and bruised and you can hardly recognize him until he speaks.

“You’d best be careful who you allow into your circle, your Majesty. I serve my Kingdom, but not all who are close to you are true to their word. Is it not suspicious that so many terrible events have occurred so soon after the Queen was brought here?” Steve's hand comes down hard against the man’s face and you hold back a gasp.

“If you do not cooperate and answer truthfully, I will rip your teeth out one by one and force them down your throat.”

The man spits blood onto the ground then chuckles weakly.

His bloodied face is too much for you, and you turn on your heel and run up the stairs as silently as you can, hands trembling with fear and disgust as you realize that both kings are brutal in their own sick ways.

“You know I speak the truth. The change in your husband has only occurred since your wife has been here. Has Orlen always been a friend to us? Or have they been trying to get into our Kingdom to take what they wish?”

Steve is silent for just a moment too long, long enough for the man to know he struck a nerve.

“If you wish to kill me, do so. But remember my warning. And do not be surprised when she turns on you, too.”

~*~

He doesn’t return to his chambers for nearly an hour after that, and as much as you try, you cannot fall asleep after what you witnessed.

Sure, you expected there to be consequences, but you never imagined that Steve would torture the man with his own hands.

When he finally returns to you, he climbs into bed without noticing your stiff figure.

His arm comes around your waist as it usually would, and you try your hardest not to flinch away from him.

A single glance down shows you his split knuckles and you have to bite your lip to stop from making a noise of fear.

He falls asleep quickly behind you, and you’re horrified at how comfortable he is with being so brutal to another human being.

~*~

The King paces in his office, the question of the prisoner echoing in his mind.

He had not even considered the possibility of you being responsible for the change in his husband’s demeanour, but it only started since you came to the palace.

A weight settles in the pit of his stomach and he takes a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

He needs to speak to you immediately.

Just as he pulls the door to his study open, you raise your hand to knock.

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing your chest and taking a sharp breath.

“You startled me. I was just coming to find you. H-have you any news of James?” Your eyes stray down to his split knuckles and Steve takes notice of the tension in your shoulders.

“He’s locked himself in the east wing. He refuses to speak to anyone but doctor banner,” he says, voice stiff and mechanical.

You nod slowly, stepping into the room when he steps aside and motions you to come in.

It’s silent for a long moment, the pressure nearly making your eardrums burst.

You want him to say something, anything. Explain what happened last night or what’s going on today. You’re far too terrified to ask him, however. After witnessing what you did... you do not want to anger him.

That seems to be a futile wish, however.

“Is he alright?” You try, hoping that this is a safe topic.

Steve doesn’t reply. No, instead he paces slowly around the room.

“Do you take me for a fool?” He asks, eyes finding you for the first time.

“What are you talking about?” You’re genuinely curious, trying to think of what you could’ve done to make him ask you this.

“I will ask you again, and this time you will answer. Do you take me for a fool?” He’s walking to you now, steps purposeful and intimidating, a walk that he has practiced and perfected.

You back up a step, fear coursing through your veins. “N-no, of course not. What is this about, Steve?”

“You will address me properly.” You’ve never seen this side of him before. Except for last night.

“I-I don’t think I am understanding... Your Majesty.” You’re not sure if you are more disappointed or sad, but you drop your eyes to the floor.

“Rumours have been spoken, words whispered of a traitor among us. Someone who wishes for the kingdom to fall. Someone close to myself.”

You furrow your brows, taken aback by the accusation.

“And you think me capable of that?” You demand.

He shrugs but his eyes are anything but calm. There’s a fiery storm in his blue eyes, accusation and rage simmering just beneath the surface.

“I hardly know you. It would be foolish of me to think you are anything more than a spy sent by Orlen.” Your heart hurts and you need to take a few deep breaths before you speak.

“I have been nothing but loyal to you, your husband, and your kingdom. Who might I even have to conspire with? I have not been allowed near the people, and I fear my own ladies because their loyalties lie with you.”

Your words ring with truths that even you didn’t consider until now. Steve opens his mouth to speak but you do not allow him a turn.

“I have not breathed a word of the brutalities I have experienced at the hand of your beloved. I have not even dreamed of leaving the castle walls for fear of what consequences would await such thoughts. From the moment I arrived, I have been treated like dirt and yet you stand here with the audacity to question my loyalties!”

He’s taken aback for a moment. He wants to trust you, he really does, but he just can't. Not after what the man said last night. It makes too much sense that you would do this.

“You speak of rumours... as if you do not have your own to worry about. Your brutality is spoken of throughout the continent. Clearly, the rumours hold true, for your brutality extends far beyond the lines of the battlefield. The kings show no mercy, not even to their wife in the privacy of their bed chambers.”

He grabs your forearms tightly, face full of fury.

“You will watch your tongue, woman!” You huff out a breath and shake your head, face contorting in pain as his grip tightens.

“You are so quick to accuse me when you were nowhere to be found in a time that I needed you.” His brows raise nearly to his hairline.

“Are you implying that I had a hand in that?” He demands, a vein in his forehead throbbing as he only gets more furious.

“I imply nothing, your majesty. I am simply taking note of the fact that you were conveniently away during a time when I was in peril.”

His hand comes up before he can register what’s happening, and then you’re tumbling to the floor, the crisp sound of a slap ringing in his ears.

Your hands tremble and your cheek burns. You stay rooted in place, eyes squeezed shut in fear as he towers over you.

He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes wide with horror at himself.

“Your actions only further prove my point,” you whisper, blinking your eyes open to suppress your tears.

“And do yours not prove mine?” He counters, glaring at you as you rub your aching wrists. Seeing you cower beneath him, so small and so fragile, his anger starts to melt away.

“I would like to remind you, Your Majesty, that I do not benefit from being here. I have only traded one prison for another, and I am not sure how much longer I will endure such treatment.”

He opens his mouth to speak, one hand extending to help you to your feet. His eyes find a line of red on your cheek and he glances down at his hand, the mark on your cheek matching his wedding band.

Now you have matching scratches on either side of your face.

“Do not touch me,” you hiss, glaring up at him with wet eyes.

He’s crouching down when there’s a knock on the door. Sam pushes it open without waiting for an invitation but the look on his face is enough for Steve not to snap at him.

“There’s been an attempt on Doctor Banner’s life.”

#king au #king!bucky #king!steve rogers x reader #king!bucky x Princess!reader X king!steve #king!Steve X reader #king!steve x reader #dark!au #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #darkfic #Steve X reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark au #steve x reader dark fic #Bucky Barnes x reader dark au #bucky x reader dark fic #Steve rogers x reader dark fic

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

BEWARE THERE ARE ROW SPOILERS IN THIS FAN FICTION

So, I did something. Rule of Wolves left me in tears. But I felt we were missing an epilogue, and that’s my take. We can see a little of Nikolai courting Zoya, his proposal and the wedding. I poured all my love into this, all of how much these characters mean to me. I hope it can bring comfort and a smile to all of you who love them as much. I don’t say it much, but this is one of the things I loved most writing, and I hope you’re gonna enjoy it. I send a big hug to whoever has taken this grishaverse wild ride word count: 4953 you are my endless summer - ao3

“Is this strictly necessary?”

Zoya asked, faking more annoyance than she felt. She wondered what kind of crazy idea had come to Nikolai’s mind this time, as she stumbled through the woods with a strip of cloth tied on her eyes. Nikolai was guiding her, holding her hand and her elbow to steady her through the fallen branches on the ground. He didn’t answer, but she could swear she could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“I already know where you’re taking me. You’ve kept me away from the garden for two months, I kind of figured out what you were doing.”

“How cunning you are. That’s why I love you.”

She nudged him on what she hoped was his stomach, eliciting a laugh from his side.

“Humour me Zoya, please. What kind of a surprise would it be if I let you see?”

“The kind where you don’t end up being a pile of smoking dust.”

Nikolai laughed again, a crystal-clear sound that made her heart twitch. The threat was not that far from the truth. Nikolai had been entertaining himself way too much with this idiotic courting thing he had decided to pursue. She thought back on when she believed she could have a quiet romance with him. A quiet romance with a man who has a double identity as a privateer and wears a ridiculous teal frock coat. Great thinking, Zoya.

The first hint of how much not quiet Nikolai was going to be had been the absurd deal of public flirting he engaged in, knowing damn well how Zoya was used to propriety. And bitter and ruthless words, at the very best. Not even under torture she would admit how endearing it had been instead; better to keep scolding him. However, as usual, Nikolai saw right through her pretence, caught the gleam of amusement and desire in her eyes. That had only made him become more daring and blatant. Nothing could compare for him to the satisfaction of leaving Zoya speechless. Zoya had tried to match his bold attitude, but she had to admit she was not half as good as him. To this day, he was still rubbing in her face the time where she had almost caused a diplomatic incident due to the shock of his shamelessness. He had just got back from a trip to Ketterdam, right after the coronation. They were waiting at the palace’s gates to meet with the Shu delegation, coming to pay their respect to the recently crowned queen. Nikolai had chosen the moment where their newly acquired allies were emerging from the carriages to lean into her ear to whisper, ignoring the fact that they were surrounded by soldiers and dignitaries, and not just Genya and Alina like last time; Nikolai loved an audience as much as he loved himself.

“I see you’ve resorted back to your kefta”, he had muttered in a casual tone.

Zoya had cut him a quick glare, saying something she would regret later. “Did you like the coronation dress better?”

“Oh no, not at all. If I remember correctly, I suggested you get out of that.” The Shu delegation was getting closer. Nikolai had lowered his voice even more, starting to smile at them. “I stand to my suggestion. There are several outfits I like better on you than a dress. Namely, your kefta, which I'm happy you got back.” She had kept her eyes trained in front of her, ignoring him. “Or the rough spun clothes you use when we are on the Volkvolny.” He had plucked a non-existent dust from his sleeve, keeping the nonchalant attitude of someone who was speaking about the weather. “Your nightdress, the one that looks like a starry night and has a shockingly small amount of fabric.” He had waved a hand in Ehri’s direction, who by that time had been a couple of steps too close to them for Nikolai to keep talking. But the man did have a tendency to risk his life. “But you with nothing on would definitely be in first place.”

Zoya had widened her eyes and a violent rush of blood had tinged her cheeks, while Nikolai had sprinted on to welcome her guests and she stood there like an idiot, trying to catch back her composure. After that, she had quickly understood just how much Nikolai appreciated a challenge. And when he understood just how much Zoya hated to cause a scene, that had been the end for her. At least it seemed like they were alone right now. Better to be safe than sorry, although.

“Nikolai, please at least tell me you’re not about to stage another of your embarrassing public fit.” She asked him now, half pleading and half threatening, as they made their way through the woods.

Nikolai chuckled. “Not this time. And do not lie to me, I know you’ve enjoyed my scenes.”

“I have not.”

“Not even a smidge?”

“You should thank the Saints you’re still breathing after all the stunts you pulled.”

“The Saints and your infinite love for me, I suppose.”

“My love may be infinite, but I assure you my patience is not.”

Zoya tried to keep the smile from her voice, failing miserably. Nikolai had a way to overwhelm her with a now familiar lightness and serenity. Their bickering, his hand in hers, his scent in the air. It all felt like home. So much so that she had found herself subtly pressing on him to get married, eager to have him forever with her. It was a feeling of certainty she wasn’t willing to let go of. It was a treasure she wanted to protect. And she didn’t really care about grand gestures, about big declarations. As far as she was concerned, she could find a ring on her nightstand and they could be married in secret. Nikolai knew that, always seemed to know exactly what kind of attention she needed. He left her his little wire boats everywhere to be found, he concocted small and useless inventions just for the sake of amusing her. He placed hidden notes and drawings in her drawers or under her pillows. He courted her in a way she had never been courted before, dedicating his clever mind to making her feel loved and safe - a task in which he was succeeding brilliantly.

But the privateer in him came out every now and then. Apart from the flirting, which she could admit she had been enjoying, he had picked up the unnerving habit of pretending to be about to propose to her in the middle of all sorts of gatherings. The first time he had sank down on one knee had been during one of their evenings with the rest of their friends. Everyone had drawn a sharp breath, falling silent and still. But the idiot had simply picked up one of her earrings that had fallen on the floor, winking at her while she narrowed her eyes at him from the upside down. Then he got bolder and bolder. The next time, he had clanked his glass at the end of a state dinner, saying he had a declaration to make for his queen. Zoya had glared at him from her seat, shifting uncomfortably, praying to all the Saints for him to shut up. But the worst had been during the ball they threw last week in honour of some Saint or occurrence she could not even remember. They were dancing, spinning around the ballroom. Nikolai was indeed a very gifted dancer, so she usually let him guide her. It was a strange feeling, the safety of being carried by his arms.

“Your hand is nowhere near the level of propriety, Nikolai”, she had whispered with a playful look, noting the fire on her skin as he had brushed her lower back.

He had smirked. “Let them envy me. I’m dancing with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

“The one that’s going to step on your foot if you don’t behave yourself.”

Nikolai had nudged her closer, skimming his lips on her jaw. “Want to give them something else to watch?” And then, without preamble, he had kneeled in front of her, right in the middle of the ballroom, holding one of her hands in his. The music had stopped, the room had been filled with ecstatic murmurs. Zoya had caught Genya giggling on the other side of the room, but she could only hear her heart thrumming in her chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

One beat had passed. Two beats, and that delicious grin of his had erupted on Nikolai’s face. He had cleared his throat and turned to the people assembled around them.

“Pardon me for the interruption, but I believe it’s time for the Queen to give her speech!” He had joyfully declared, getting back up on his feet. She had looped her arm on his, seething under her breath.

“I am going to smite you where you stand.”

From that moment on, every time he had tried to garner the attention in public endeavours, she had been terrified to see him cause another scene. Deep down, Zoya knew he was not going to ask her like this. He was way too much of a romantic soul to do this. Sure enough though, he was immensely enjoying himself. She supposed she could let him have his fun. As long as she was his, and he was hers, she didn’t really care how many times he would embarrass her. There was nothing on earth that could compare to the feeling of seeing him beaming with happiness. Not even the dragon, in all his lifetimes, had known a warmth like this. Zoya loved him enough to let him have his way at times.

The creak of the garden door distracted her from her thoughts. Finally, Nikolai stopped. She heard him move behind her and place his hands on her hips, while his lips brushed on the skin of her neck.

“You can look now.”

He murmured against her skin. Was she imagining the slight tremble of emotion in his voice? He sounded thrilled, nervous. Slowly, she pulled the cloth from her eyes, caught back by the light that was flooding the place. Whatever she had thought she was going to see, it was nothing compared to what Nikolai had built. The breath was knocked out of her lungs, the beating of her heart racing up like it was about to take flight. It was her garden, but it was so much more. The structure Nikolai had designed was an engineering marvel of glass and wrought iron, twisting toward the sky, looking like the dome of a chapel. A perfect combination of his brilliance and a most expert Fabrikator’s craft. The whole building was transparent; Zoya could see the sky beyond, the clouds, the ray of sun warming up the place and shattering through the glass in a rainbow of colours. The flowers hadn’t been touched; new pots had been placed, new space to fill. The thorn wood still ran on the sides, around the bricks and the lanterns. But the wall had been painted with every sort of wonder; there was a dragon roaring through the sky, a ship that looked like the Volkvolny sealing a storm-swept sea, with a two-star flag added to Sturmhond’s one. A fox emerged from the bushes on the wall nearer to the door. The Grisha colours and symbols were all over the place, a flash of blue, red, and purple blossoms; waves, fire and lightnings ran throughout the murals.

“Alina painted them.”

Explained Nikolai, whispering softly when he noticed she was looking at the walls. Zoya took two steps in front of her, tilting her head up. There weren’t words she possessed right enough for this moment, none of the languages she knew was fit to describe this. The wrought iron was shaped like quince and gusts of wind that towered over the place in a million branches, spreading on the lines of the glass dome.

“Every panel of glass can be opened in the summer. They’re closed now, so that the heat stays in and the flowers can blossom in every season.”

Nikolai’s voice was still soft, still stumbling a little, like he was holding his breath to wait for her reaction. He had poured all of himself into this extraordinary building. This is what love does. If only Lilyiana could see her now. If she could see what she had found. Let love pour through, my little girl. Let your golden hero carry you home. You are safe. Zoya was shaking. Breathing was hard. She turned to him, feeling a suspicious prickle behind her eyes. Nikolai had once again got down on his knee amidst her wildflowers; she caught the sparkle of a jewel in his hand. Zoya smiled, too stricken with emotions to concentrate on anything that wasn't him.

“I hope it’s the last time you kneel to me.” Zoya tried to muster some wit, but her voice came out croaked, her throat sore. Nikolai was undoing her.

“Do shut up, Your Highness. I believe it’s my turn to speak.” The too-clever fox smirked, a clear and expectant look in his gleaming hazel eyes. “I had a speech - honestly it’s hard to remember it right now.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, and I’ve been believing for so long that there wasn’t a future for us, that it seemed impossible to have this.”

He opened his mouth again, clearly about to correct himself, but Zoya was quicker. “Improbable”, she added, unable to restrain herself. Another smirk curled his lips.

“Improbable”, he conceded, immensely satisfied that she had picked up on his favourite line. “I know I’ve kept you waiting. I would have asked the first time you kissed me. I would have asked that night in the cargo hold. But I said something else that night, something I wanted to live up to.”

Zoya watched him carefully, trying to see through him, to wrap her head around what was happening. She felt like her heart was about to burst in her chest.

“There were things I wanted to do before asking you. I wanted to gift you something ill-suited for war, something precious. That’s why I built this.” He gestured to the structure around them. “Because your garden need not be just a monument to grief anymore, but one to life. To the way you make everything around you blossom.” Nikolai paused, his gaze intense and fierce on her. “And then there were other things I told you I would have done for you, once I could.”

“You wanted to give me a crown.” Zoya said, with surprise in her voice. She had started to figure out where he was going with this, had started to grasp his words from the memory of that night, carved inside her.

“That was the first thing. I believe it worked splendidly. What else did I tell you?”

“You wanted to show me the world from the prow of your ship.”

She brought her fingers to her lips, as if she could not believe her own realization. Her voice was trembling too, now. She remembered. She remembered when Nikolai had insisted they took a couple of days at sea, during their mission in Os Kervo. Zoya knew Nikolai wanted to travel with her, but they simply had not had the time to do it properly. Zoya had promised him they would, someday, when peace was secured. Nikolai had pressed her on that trip to sail on the Volkvolny, even for a little while. She had not questioned him, thought he was only being nonsensical as usual and had obliged him. He had told her something, on the railing of the ship, as the sun was setting in front of them. That’s why I like the sea, he had said to her, because when you look out at the horizon, you see everything beyond. Look, Zoya. You can see the whole world from here. It’s all ours for the taking. She had laughed, tilting her head to the sun. You gave me Ravka, Nikolai. It’s enough for me. She had been wrong. Nikolai had not just given her Ravka. Here, in the silence of her garden, she knew he was giving her so much more.

“And then there was one last thing.” Nikolai encouraged her. Zoya drew a sharp breath, catching the ring in his hand into focus.

“You wanted to give me a sapphire, the size of an acorn.”

Nikolai took her hand and placed the ring in it. The band was made of white gold, in the shape of a dragon curled around itself. Between its tail and its head, it held a glowing sapphire, the colour of a midnight sky. She peered at him under her lashes, too overwhelmed to say anything. His hands were shivering.

“I know it’s not the size of an acorn. We are still slightly broke, and, well - I thought you would have liked it better like this. It’s more elegant, it suits you more.”

Silence enveloped them. Zoya felt his warm uneven breathing on her skin, his nervousness, the sheer truth and love behind his actions taking her like a tide, filling the well inside her that had once protected her grief and caged her heart.

“I wanted you to understand that I’ll always be true to my promises. I don’t know when I started loving you, but I know I’m lost now. I searched for you for a lifetime. I still want you all the time. I want to lay beside you every night, wake up with you in my arms every morning. I want to build the future with you, I want to watch you scowl at people and be the brave and ruthless leader you are.” Nikolai inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “You've been my general. You are my friend, the woman I love. I would have chosen you before, I would now and I always will. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?”

Zoya didn’t try to hold back the tears. It didn’t matter. It didn’t because she had never felt safer in her life than she was feeling now, held in the dome that protected her garden, in the hands of the man that had always protected her. What he was telling her now, it had an echo to so many other things he had told her in the past, scattered throughout the moments they had shared. It told the story of how they took care of each other for so long, of their longing, of their strength. How they had found each other at last. She gently kneeled in front of him, folding her hand over the one that was holding the ring. All around them, the flowers had sprouted, their scent clouding them. She placed the other hand on his cheek, locking their eyes together. It took all her might to find her voice within the emotions swimming in her chest. Zoya had never been sentimental like him. She had never tried to be, maybe she could never be. Yet, she wanted him to know now; to know even a fraction of how much her love for him ran deep in her veins.

“You made me believe that impossible really is just a word.” She tried, wavering, gaining more confidence with each word she brought out. “You made me believe again, Nikolai. You are the hero of every story I have ever heard. And yes, I’ll marry you.”

He opened in an astonishing expression of relief, leaning in her touch. Nikolai slipped the ring on her finger, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Turns out you can be romantic too, when you want to.” He teased, getting up and bringing her with him, circling her in his arms. As she leaned on his chest, she heard the rhythmic pounding of his heart, quick as the flapping of a bird’s wings.

“It’s hardly a match between the two of us. I know how much you enjoy it, so I let you take all the credit.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop kneeling in front of crowds?”

“I think so. I will not stop with the flirting, though. It’s a compulsion.”

Zoya went on her toes to press a kiss on his mouth.

“Do keep up with that. I like it.”

She tucked her hand into his pocket, closing her fingers on the blue ribbon he kept on him all the time. Zoya pulled it out, unfurling it in front of them.

“I believe I’ll need this for the wedding day.”

The smile that lightened up his face was worth a thousand wars to wage. A thousand years to wait.

***

To say that the wedding was grand, would have been an understatement. Genya had outdid herself, both with the decorations and the dress. If Zoya had thought she had made a great work with the coronation, what she had managed to create on this day put everything else to shame. Zoya didn’t remember much of it. It had been a whirlwind of colours and voices, people kissing her hand and offering their congratulations, dancing, and music and mostly a lot of drinking on their part. The ceremony had been long and complicated, but as usual, Nikolai had made everything more bearable. Somehow, he had managed to make her feel like they were the only two people standing in the chapel, the same one that held such awful memories and was now a place of celebration.

She had chosen not to wear gold, and they all went with it. Once had been enough; silver was more fitting for a dragon queen that commanded the storm. Being a queen had its advantages in terms of breaking with traditions. Nikolai had walked the aisle with her; he had never left her side, he had never left the grip on her hand. Zoya could feel his intense desire to make this day joyful for her. She would never stop marvelling at his selflessness, at how good and pure his heart was. To her surprise, he had chosen to relent the traditional Ravkan wedding vows in favour of the ones spoken by Grisha. They applied a lot more to them than any other oath they could make.

We are soldiers. I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return. I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world and there is no one more fierce, passionate, and unbreakable.

There was not much else to say; everything they needed to tell each other, they had already done in the quiet of their intimacy. Everything they needed to share about what it meant to have each other, they already knew. But Nikolai had added something, lowering his voice to a whisper, only for her to hear.

I will always seek to make it summer for you.

He had spoken the words in Suli. A ridiculous Suli, with an accent as thick as Zoya’s one and probably quite the number of mistakes. Zoya didn’t care. She didn’t know much Suli either, but she had understood. She had felt the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless, all these people be damned. Instead, she had murmured her answer to him, searching in her childhood for the words, hoping his knowledge of the language was broader than hers.

You are my endless summer.

Nikolai’s eyes had sparkled, his lips trembled when he had kissed her, knocking her off his feet, and she knew he had understood too. The first half of the party had been slightly tedious. Her dress was heavy, the crown hitched on her head. But as the night went on and the brandy had started to flow, she had found she was enjoying herself much more than she thought. Nikolai’s presence glowed in the room, equally as handsome as her. It was well past midnight when people had started retiring, saying their goodbyes to the newly wed royal couple.

At last, they found themselves alone at a table with all their friends. Tolya was astoundingly drunk, much to their amusement. He was trying to convince Adrik to stand on a chair and recite some poetry with him. Adrik, who was incredibly smiling, seated next to Leoni who wore her usual thousand sun merry expression. Adrik had taken Zoya’s position in the Triumvirate, while Leoni held the post for the Materialki now. She and Genya were deep in an argument about some sort of poison used to make people sleepwalk. Genya was laughing, her head thrown back, a glass of honey tea in her hand. Seeing her happy was a sight for sore eyes. Zoya knew they were all missing David more tonight; her eyes wandered on her friend’s kefta, which stood a little too tight around her stomach. The bump was starting to show clearly right now, four months into the pregnancy. She was beaming. It takes a village, people said about raising a child. This child would definitely never be alone. Alina and Mal had retired earlier, eager to return to their kids. She had held Alina in an embrace a little longer than usual, trying to convey how wonderful her gift to Zoya had been, how much comfort the paintings in her garden would bring. In the middle of the room, Tamar and Nadia were still dancing, or trying to at least, missing every rhythm of the music. Tamar stopped abruptly when she saw Zoya watching them.

“I can’t believe you two pulled it off, at last!” She made a toast in their direction, making Nadia stumble.

“I can’t believe Nikolai pulled it off”, Genya smirked, toasting back to Tamar with her tea.

Nikolai shrugged his shoulders. “I’m known for always choosing the hardest quest.”

There was little hope to ever make them stop with the teasing. Turning her gaze, Zoya caught sight of Nina and her prince, who had traveled all the way from Fjerda to be here tonight. Nina was stunning as usual, in a dress that hugged every curve of her, stacking on a pile of pastries and forcing Hanne to taste each and every one of them. The reckless Heartrender didn’t miss the chance to weigh in on the conversation, popping a pastry in her mouth. “And to think Zoya was the one to bash me about falling in love with Fjerdans. It backfired right in your face.”

Zoya clicked her tongue. “At least I take care not to let people walk in on us having a private moment.”

“That’s on you”, Nina grinned, “But I guess now you know that the thing about Fjerdans being cold it’s just a myth.”

“Definitely a myth", confirmed Nikolai, winking at Nina. Leave it to the two of them to be inappropriate.

Tolya downed another glass of whisky. For a giant, he didn’t have a good resistance to alcohol. “Good luck Zoya, he’s all yours to suffer now.” He managed to mutter. “At least he’s not moping around about you anymore like a lost puppy.” Tolya, the most respectful soldier she knew. He really was drunk.

“I’ll still mop around about her, don’t worry.”

“I can manage, I think", Zoya answered to Tolya, curling her lips.

She sighed happily, tightening the hold on Nikolai’s hand next to her, while she watched the people who were now her family filling the air with their laughter. He put the glass down, gazing at her with amusement. His golden hair were ruffled, his elegant shirt crumpled, his skin heated. His eyes were filled with awe, a smile dancing on his lips. She felt her breath itch at the sight of him. Nikolai leaned closer to her, bringing her hand up to his mouth. His look turned soft, affectionate.

“You survived today wonderfully.”

Zoya fell silent, watching her golden boy. This is what love does. You fight for it, and it saves you. You build it, brick by brick, and it stays. The dragon spread his wings inside her.

“You built me a home.”

She told him, and cocked her head to the side, making some strands of hair fall from the elaborate updo Genya had weaved. Nikolai rushed to tuck them back into the ribbon that held them in place, the one she had taken from his pocket when he had proposed.

“You gave me something to build it for. Someone to fill it with.”

Zoya knew, in that moment. She knew that every blow, every pain, every loneliness she had endured had been meant to take her here. It had been meant to make her worthy of him, to make her believe they could have this. She knew every loss and every battle had forged her so that she could let herself love him. And Nikolai made everything possible. The weight of his hand in hers felt sacred.

“We will go on, you and I. We are going to be fine.”

It wasn’t a question. It was the strongest belief she had ever had. It was hope. After an eternity of fighting and suffering, the stone tumbled inside her, coming to rest. Nikolai nodded, closing his eyes and sighing. The world felt easier. It felt warm, and sunny, full of his light.

“Yes, we are.”

And they would. For years to come, they would be fine.

263 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 3 years

Text

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 24.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

A/N: Really really huge thank you to my queen @xjoonchildx for making me the newspaper clippings. I love them so much! This is one of my favorite chapters because of how fun it looks! And as always I couldn’t have done it without @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna

Yoongi takes a deep breath, letting the September air fill his lungs. Who knew life could be so fucking trying?

He turns his head to you, hearing your soft footsteps down the marble stairs. He notices the small splotches of paint on your skin and it fills him with a sense of calm. You're a sight for sore eyes.

"My baby," he breathes, leaving his glass of whisky on the outdoor patio and walking back into the mansion to be with you.

"I'm all dirty," you mumble, picking at the dried paint on your hands.

"I can make you dirtier." your fiance quips and you give him a lopsided grin at his joke.

His joke doesn't match his mood and your eyebrows furrow as his arms wrap around you.

You know just how stressed he is. You know just how much his heart hurts everyday that Sera refuses to sign the divorce papers. It wouldn't be nearly as bad if you didn't seem to be growing more and more everyday.

His chin rests atop your head and he stares past you to the two marble staircases that lead up to either wing.

Even though Sera is no longer here and she's in the guest house with Jin and your dog, her ghost seems to haunt the CEO at every turn.

"I want to buy a new house." he grumbles, pulling away and looking down at you.

"Why?" you ask softly, running your hands lovingly over his arms.

"This house fills me with nothing but bad memories. I see the leech everywhere I turn… I hate that. I want a fresh start." he admits, caressing your distended sides.

You hum in agreement. "Is it too much for you right now? You have so much on your plate. Let's look for a house together when we get married," you suggest.

Just the thought of marrying you makes his heart flip inside of his chest. The thought of holding you in his arms everyday until his last is miraculous and special.

"When we buy the new house, you can decorate it any way you want." he promises.

"Oh, I plan on it." you reply, pulling him towards the stairs.

"Where are we going?" he asks curiously, letting you take him with you.

"You need a distraction, baby boy."

He shivers at your tone, how strict it is. A small smile spreads over his face as he trudges up the stairs with you. "Yes, Mistress. I do."

"Jin?!" Sera calls, dropping her bags down at the front of the guest house.

She promised him she'd try and she thinks she's doing well so far. She only complains thirty percent of the day which is a lot better than the eighty percent she's used to. She's even held her tongue a few times when Jin has told her he's going to hang out with Leena.

"I'm getting ready for work, mouse." he calls back from upstairs.

His velvet voice fills her with joy and she rushes up the stairs without a second thought.

"Can I come with you?" she begs, peeking into his bedroom.

His hands wrap and tug at his tie as he turns to her with a raised eyebrow.

"No. You're still married." he states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

She scoffs gently, wrinkling her nose. There's something about how quick and dexterous his fingers are as he ties his tie that sends her stomach coiling.

He still hasn't had sex with her and he hasn't even kissed her after that fated day when she begged him to stay with her.

"Why not?" she whines softly, leaning against the door jamb.

Seokjin chuckles gently, rolling his eyes. "Because you won't sign the divorce papers, like a normal person." he announces.

"Why do you keep bringing it up?! It's always 'divorce this or divorce that,' aren't you tired of saying it yet?" the actress cries out.

Jin grabs his suit jacket, sighing so loudly that it scares the woman behind him.

"Yes, actually. I am tired of saying it. You should just do it."

"But why? It has nothing to do with you." she mumbles.

Turning to her, he tilts his head. "Yes it does. If you don't get divorced, I'm not staying with you. I'm not going to be the guy that makes another man a fucking cuckold. I don't want that, that's fucking disgusting. There's nothing for you in your marriage anymore. You don't get any money, you've been cut off, you don't love Yoongi, you don't even care! So why are you being so stubborn about signing a damn paper?"

She looks down at the floor, playing with the ends of her hair, not wanting to answer.

"Because you're spiteful," Jin answers for her, "but your spite is literally making my pregnant best friend sick. She's a nervous wreck because of you, Sera. I hate that. You have everything in the world you could possibly want. And you can't just sign a few fucking papers?"

Jin whistles for Gaesu as he squeezes past the actress in the doorway.

"I just-"

"You don't want to give up something because you're greedy. Yeah, I get it. You want others to be miserable because you've always been miserable your whole life," he turns to her, cupping her soft face and staring down into her amber eyes, "You don't need to continue to be an asshole. You need to focus on becoming a better fucking person. Not everything needs your input, sometimes you can just let everything go and you can start again on your own. Like now, you don't want to be with Yoongi, you want to be with me. And I see that you're trying, you're doing great so far. But I can only work with you as long as you work with me. And you still being married isn't working with me. It's the opposite."

She swallows thickly, looking up into his blazened mocha irises. He's so serious that it sends a shiver down her spine. When she whimpers gently, whether it's out of need or fear that he'll leave, he brushes his soft thumbs against the apples of her cheek.

"When you sign the papers, I'll sleep in your bed." he promises, pulling away.

She blinks once, twice, three times, watching him walk away from her.

Gaesu follows closely behind your best friend, excited to go to work with him.

"S-So I can't come to the club?!" she calls leaning over the banister.

"No, mouse, Leena will be there and I'm spending the night with her." Jin calls back, grabbing his car keys.

"What?! She touched you in front of me and you're just going to hang out with her again?!" she screams, hanging over the banister.

"One. Be careful, you might hurt yourself. And two, I'm sorry to break it to you but Leena has touched me so many times that her touch feels normal to me at this point. My best friend coming to hang out with me is perfectly fine. And what's more, her boyfriend will be there." your best friend calls back, opening the front door and leaving without another word.

"Fine. We'll see," Sera seethes through her teeth, walking towards her room.

Stepping into Miyoung's art studio, the natural light that bleeds through the glass ceiling really seems to highlight all of the paintings that line the walls.

"Well, if it isn't the famous artist in my very midst." Miyoung quips, stepping down the slightly curved staircase.

You smile up at the pretty woman, leaning against the wall with two coffee cups in hand.

You can see how Yoongi was always fond of Miyoung at a young age, she's beautiful and quirky with everything she does. Even her clothes scream unique and you love that.

The brown French beret that hangs from the side of her head and the long blue corduroy dress she has on screams artistry and you adore it.

"Brought you some coffee," you quip, holding up one.

"You shouldn't be drinking coffee, pregnant lady." she jeers, finally reaching the ground floor and wrapping her arms around you.

"Mine is decaf, thank you very much." you joke back, accepting the hug with open arms.

When you both turn to the walls of art where your paintings were, it's surprising to see the walls almost empty.

The people that walk to and fro with their hands respectfully behind their make your heart bloom with pride.

"Do you wanna know how much money you've made?" Miyoung whispers in your ear, a playful smile spreading on her face.

You roll your eyes, nudging her with your hip. "You know I don't care about that stuff."

"That's why you'll make tons of money." she murmurs back, earning a laugh from you.

People notice you easily when you laugh, turning to you with wide eyes. It's a bit strange to be recognized now because of the Dispatch pictures and it's even stranger when they begin to approach like they know you.

Yoongi's best friend from childhood doesn't stand for it for a second and within seconds she's fending them off with a polite smile.

"Pregnant women don't like to be crowded, if you have any questions about art, please come to me. I'm very in touch with the woman beside me." Miyoung announces, waving her hands for the people to move back.

When she shows you to the art gallery office, it feels like an out of body experience. "There were so many people." you breathe out, sitting down on the loveseat beside her large desk.

"You became famous pretty much overnight. What do you expect? People are salivating for more of your art." she announces, sipping her coffee.

It's such a bizarre thing to hear when you've only ever done painting as a hobby.

"Should I start making more art, you think?" you inquire, crossing your legs and leaning back into the comfy couch.

She hums, tilting her head. "No. I don't think so. I think you make people wait for more. Obviously not too long. But it's good to get people curious and excited for what you're going to do next, y'know? Finish the art for the mall and hotel. Have the baby and then start making more art. You've made millions of dollars on the thirty pieces you've released. That's enough to get people really excited for the next release."

You nod understandingly, letting your eyes drift over the two paintings you've created for her office.

"You're my most successful client ever. I'm proud of it." Miyoung says, making you giggle.

Your heart feels warm in her presence and you can understand why your fiance has always been fond of her. She's an amazing woman.

"Call Minho to help you get downstairs when you're ready."

"Is that necessary?" you quip, sipping your coffee.

"Of course! You're famous now." she gasps, leaning over her glass desk with a playful smile.

Yoongi sighs loudly, throwing his suit pants into his luggage.

He hasn't been able to relax for a single second. He can only pray that paparazzi in Japan aren't as desperate as Koreans.

Staring down at the multitude of watches that spin on their platforms, he gets lost in his worries.

You're giving birth in only three months time. How is he going to cope? What kind of father is he going to be? Is he going to live up to what he wants? Are you going to be proud of him?

He's so worried.

But he's more worried about the leech. When the fuck is she going to sign that goddamn paper?

He opted for platonic parting rather than suing, because it would be messier that way but Sera is so spiteful that he doesn't know what to expect. He knows Jin is trying his hardest to rein her in but who knows how long that will take. It's nerve wracking to say the least.

Yoongi's eyes flutter shut as your arms wrap around him like needy vines. The feeling of your rotund belly against his back has him sighing so softly it barely reaches your ears.

"How are the paintings coming?" he asks gently, turning around in your grasp to cup your face with both hands.

"They're almost finished." you reply, hugging him tightly.

He hums sweetly, letting his lips drift over your forehead. "Have you packed for Japan?" he murmurs, letting the sweet scent of your lavender shampoo enrapture his senses.

"I packed a little this morning, but I got caught up in my inspiration. I have to finish." you announce, putting your cheek to his bare chest.

The warmth of you against his body is so welcome during his time of uneasiness. "I'll help you pack. Just hold me for a little while. It feels good." your fiance breathes out, squeezing his eyes closed tighter.

You're so comfortable within his arms, you have no intention of moving. You can feel his rapid heartbeat and you know exactly why he's on edge but you don't bring it up.

Late nights in your post-coital glow, you've talked extensively about both of your worries and you've come to the realization that they're the same fears.

"I'm going to have to stay inside in Japan, aren't I?" you quip, looking up at him.

He snorts gently, putting his chin on the top of your head. "Probably yes. Does that upset you? I bought out the penthouse so there's a lot for you to do."

His voice is wrapped with guilt but you decide to not dwell on it. Just going somewhere with him is enough for you. You don't care if you have to stay inside, it'll be nice to leave the country for the first time with him by your side.

"Plus, y'know, soon you'll be too big to go anywhere. That's what the doctor said." he whispers.

You smile into his chest, accepting his soft voice. "I know. I'm happy to be going anywhere with you."

His thumb and index finger capture your chin, he tilts your head up so your eyes meet. It's so easy to fall into his mocha irises and the smile that spreads over your lips is so natural. When he bends down, your breath stutters in your throat and the feel of his lips on yours is something so sensational, there are no words that could describe this.

"I love you, little dove."

"I love you too."

Jin should have known Sera wouldn't take kindly to Leena showing up at the club. But he didn't think she would go so far as to show up to the club.

She looks completely terrifying sitting in her booth. She's alone and completely menacing. Even with all of the people around she can find Seokjin in a matter of seconds no matter where he goes and he doesn't know whether to find it attractive or completely scary.

"She's staring at you again," Leena quips, leaning deeper into Taehyung's embrace.

Seokjin hums in agreement, looking down at his Italian leather shoes.

"Just go talk to her or some shit. She's making me uncomfortable," Leena whines, nudging her best friend.

Jin looks over at the actress and he sighs loudly. Her eyes are narrowed at him and her lips are parted over the champagne glass in her hand.

When he stands, he can see her body go rigid with excitement.

"Good luck, bro." Taehyung laughs, kissing over his girlfriend's exposed shoulder.

It's a quick walk over to Sera's booth as Jin wades through the groups of people on the dance floor.

When he steps up to the platform, he can see how nervous she is.

"Why did you come? You know that's trouble." he chides her, sitting down in the booth.

"Because she was coming." she sneers, nodding her head to Leena.

The eye roll Jin gives is so severe that it sends chills down Sera's spine.

"You came all the way here, got snapped by the paparazzi, ordered thousands of dollars of alcohol, because you were jealous that Leena is here?! You're such a baby." he scoffs, pouring himself a glass of champagne.

"I just wanted to be here with you too," she admits meekly.

Jin looks her over before zipping up her dress to cover her exposed cleavage. "Behave tonight. Do you understand me, Kim Sera? I'm tired of having to worm my way out of awkward situations."

She nods gently and when she gets a small smile from him it makes her pride expand tenfold.

"Will you sleep in bed with me tonight?" she asks softly, sliding down the booth to be beside him.

He snorts gently, letting his arms expend over the top of the seat. "Not until you sign the papers. You know this. Don't push your luck." he chides, poking her cheek softly.

She pouts gently, looking down at the hem of her dress.

"All I have to do is sign the papers and you'll be with me?" she asks unsurely.

Jin hums in agreement, pushing some hair behind her ear. "All you have to do is free Yoongi from this marriage and you can have me." he promises.

Her cheeks puff out as she thinks, is anything ever really that simple? She's never found it to be so.

"I'll think about it." she breathes out.

That's good enough for Jin at the moment and for the first time in a long time he smiles widely at her. The expression is so blinding that her heart stutters in the recesses of her chest.

Yoongi is so completely thrilled when he throws both of your luggages to the penthouse floor.

"Wow," you breathe out, rushing over to the large windows.

Your fiance's smile is sweet and soft as he folds his arms, leaning against the gold wall.

The scenery that meets your eyes is indescribably beautiful. The way the gentle breeze in the Osaka air blows cherry blossom petals from their trees and the countless gardens that scatter the grounds below set such mysticality into your bones.

"There's an infinity pool up here for us. It's warm," Yoongi announces, walking towards you.

Your hand lands on your stomach as you watch the petals blow in the breeze. "This is beautiful," you say aloud.

The father of your child's lips are soft against the back of your neck and in your entrancement, you hadn't even heard him come close to you.

"You're beautiful. Anything for you, little dove." he promises, placing both of his hands on your stomach.

The stress seems to melt away as you stare out the window with your fiance behind you. His lips are soft and plush against the column of your neck and it wipes your mind completely blank.

When your fingers card through his hair, the gentle puft of air that warms your neck makes your legs weaker.

"I love you." Yoongi breathes.

There's nothing sexual about his touch, it's just pure passion that seems to bleed through his fingertips. But the feeling of him so close is so heavenly.

The soft classical music that plays throughout the large room is so peaceful and your worries float away for just a little while.

Next Chapter ------>

Third Wheeling Taglist - @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii, @moonlitmyg, @justzeera, @absolutefantrash, @whocaresarchives, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx, @bt21chim, @flowerboyhobi, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

#third wheeling #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #yoongi x you #ceo!bts #ceo!yoongi #ceo!au #bts fic #min yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #smut

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 300: Days of Our Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: Hawks was all “hey Jeanist, wanna go on a road trip with me to my mom’s house?” Jeanist was all “you know it,” and so they hopped into Jeanist’s jercedes and took off. Hawks took a nap and had a flashback to his Dickensian childhood living in a abject poverty with his jerk mom and jerk dad, thinking heroes were make-believe until one day Endeavor arrested his dad and Baby Hawks was all “OH SHIT.” And then he saved a bunch of people, and the HPSC was all “what do we have here,” and blah blah blah, you know the rest. Back in the present, Hawks was all “well my life is currently in shambles, but on the plus side there’s no one bossing me around anymore so that’s pretty cool,” and then decided he was going to talk to Endeavor. Fandom was all “I can’t believe Hawks would side with his childhood hero over the man who burned his wings off and posted a video calling him a violent murderer who took after his abusive dad,” so that was fun and stuff. I can’t wait to see what piping fresh takes this new chapter will bring.

Today on BnHA: Our old friend Carbonation Carl tries to loot a Starbucks and gets his ass kicked by a senior citizen. Society is all “YEAH, WE’RE REALLY STARTING TO GET SICK OF THIS SHIT.” Old Man Samurai is all “this room won’t stop me because I can’t read it” and abruptly decides to retire, which, fun fact, is literally THE LEAST HELPFUL THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE. Anyway so then a bunch of other punkasses follow suit, and while I won’t say that I’m actually starting to root for Stain to kill some peeps, just for the record I’m not not saying that either. Back in the hospital, Endeavor cries some tears because his life sucks, and then is confronted by his entire family, LED BY QUEEN REI, FIRST OF HER NAME, BACK IN BUSINESS AND LARGE AND IN CHARGE. Rei is all “fuck feeling sorry for yourself, we have a rogue Murder Son on the loose” and I swear to god I have never felt so alive.

so here we go! and just for the record, even though the last two chapters have been phenomenal, I don’t necessarily have any sky-high expectations for chapter 300, mostly because chapters 100 and 200 consisted of Mei Boobs, and Toadette and her horrific quirk lmao. so go ahead Horikoshi, what are you gonna pull out of your hat for this one

oh, back to this stuff again. sob

I guess there was only so much time we could spend having hospital antics and exploring Hawks’s past before we got back to dealing with the whole “the world has gone to absolute shit” issue huh, lol

omg

what’s with these bizarrely cute Noumus. why do I want to pet them

so the narrative text is going on about how people have been super paranoid about the Noumu ever since the USJ incident a year ago. so yeah, I guess the fact that there are now a bunch of them confirmed to be running around is really freaking people out even on top of everything else

wtf is happening here

what did this poor lil glass ever do to anyone. r.i.p.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

SODA SAM IS BACK ON THE LAM

tsk tsk tsk. my man has graduated from snatching purses to raiding cafes. going after that big money. this man has no business sense whatsoever lmao

OH BUT WATCH IT NOW!!

OH SNAP THE PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING BACK. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW SAM

THIS MAN IS 172 YEARS OLD AND HE’S NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES!!

WTF IS HE LIGHTING THIS THING ON FIRE OR SOME SHIT. GETTEM GRANDPA YEAHHHH HE’S CHARGING AT EM YEAHHHHHH

lmao so that was fun. and now we’re cutting to Wash!! omg. look at him

he’s so dedicated. too bad you don’t have a car like Best Jeanist. probably takes a while when you’re just running everywhere

you see?? you were too slow!!

NOOOO, GRANDPA. he defeated Pepsi Pete, but lost his life in the process. this is too tragic

anyway so the good news is that the cafe has been saved! but the bad news is, there really isn’t much of a cafe left. huh. I guess that’s one of the reasons why people are supposed to get a license to use their quirks like this

oh snap and now everyone is coming outside, and they’re none too happy to see poor old Wash over here

seriously Wash, get a bicycle or something. also the way this guy is gesturing so dramatically with his hand in this sort of “YOU SEE!! YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!” manner is sending me

OH MY GOD

HE SPEAKS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. IT MEANS JEANS PUNS ARE YESTERDAY’S NEWS, FOLKS!! MAKE WAY FOR THE LAUNDRY PUNS. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH THIS ALL... UNFOLD

“the heroes had dwindled away” okay real talk you guys, it is literally only a matter of time before they press-gang the children into picking up their slack. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but it is happening one way or the other regardless. Child Soldiers 2 Electric Boogaloo. wonder if we’ll see a rise in vigilante action as well

OHO WHAT’S THIS? THIS IS A CHAPTER OF GRANDPAS HUH

-- no fucking way

WOW. WOW. WOWWWWWW

wow. so he didn’t do a fucking thing while the rest of the top ten were being turned into red mist in the previous arc, and now that it’s all over and they need his help more than ever, he decides... THAT IT’S TIME TO RETIRE. holy shit. “fuck you” doesn’t even begin to cover it my guy. you stand there and soak up those boos you coward

ohhhhhhh shiiiiit you guys. oh shit

the “I am not here” breaks my fucking heart for real though y’all. oh man. everything he worked for is gone just like that

(ETA: okay so a couple of the takes I’ve seen on this make it seem like All Might is somehow the bad guy here?? “this is what happens when society puts a bunch of glorified cops on a pedestal”, “finally the cracks in hero society are showing”, etc. etc. so, just a friendly reminder that this isn’t happening because of too much trust and a lack of critical thinking; this is happening because the villains killed all the heroes and broke a bunch of murderers out of jail. it’s happening because an organized league of terrorists succeeded in terrorizing, and so society is now understandably awash in fear and panic. like, it’s just wild to me that AFO is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, and yet week after week fandom still has their “IT’S ALL THE HEROES’ FAULT” signs still up on their lawns. BUT WHATEVER, MOVING ON.)

also though, so exactly how much time is passing here now? I wanted to go straight back to the hospital and see what happens with Deku and the Todorokis. please don’t tell me we’re jumping ahead sob. my aaaaangst

OH SHIT

STAIN. LISTEN UP BUDDY. I KNOW WE’VE HAD OUR DIFFERENCES, AND I STILL DESPISE YOU FOR CRIPPLING TENSEI AND TRYING TO KILL MY BEST BOY TENYA. BUT AS IT HAPPENS, THERE ARE ONE OR TWO OTHER HEROES OUT THERE NOW WHO I WOULDN’T MIND YOU PAYING A VISIT I’M JUST SAYING

LOL BUT IT ACTUALLY ISN’T THIS MAN, FFFFFF

sob. yeah I was talking about Old Man Samurai actually but YEAH. HEY THERE ENJI

also is this entire hospital actually run by characters from Super Mario Bros though. first Yoshi and now this guy, come the fuck on that is not a coincidence

lmao they stuck him in another one of these cavernous creepy hospital rooms

wtf is it with Horikoshi and these giant fucking rooms lately. Kacchan’s in chapter 298, then Tomie’s colossal house furnished with like one table and a TV, and now this. and the weirdest thing about it though is that “huge space with nothing to fill it up” is like the exact opposite of what you’ll usually find in Japanese homes lol

so now Enji is just sitting there thinking things like “my head is fuzzy” and “I’m alive” lmao okay. not quite all there yet, huh. I’ll give you a minute

I’m so fucking curious as to who his first visitor is going to be omg. either way it’s going to be interesting af, and either way fandom is probably going to feel some way about it but OH WELL

okay now his thoughts are getting more coherent! and he’s remembering Touya, and feeling regret for freezing up and forcing Shouto to deal with everything instead

!!! OH HERE GOES BRACE YOURSELVES Y’ALL IT’S ABOUT TO GET SPICY

NO TOUYA PLEASE DON’T CRY HONEY NO PLEASE

ohhhhhhh man

okay, I mean I didn’t expect you to, but so instead then you’re just going to do... what? lie there and wallow in regret and self-pity for the rest of your life? son you know that’s not how we deal with our problems here in Shounen

though also, I totally do get it though. honestly, thinking on it, I probably would have been disappointed with any other response. but so this is where the rest of his family (including his adopted son) come into play now though, because like it or not they’re all in this thing together. and so friends, I am once again asking you WHO IS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO VISIT ENJI FIRST

AHHHHHHH

KRANCH!!!! OMG AND THE OTHERS ARE SO TINY NEXT TO HIM THAT I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THEM AT FIRST. IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE TWENTY MILES AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS REGULATION HOCKEY RINK OF A ROOM

holy shit I’m so excited lkjlklhlglkasdsjldfk

SDKFJLSKHLKJL

the way she has him by his collar lmaoooo. “lol nah you’re not going anywhere pal.” damn straight, siblings have to be ride or die in situations like this. banding together for survival. strength in numbers

OH MY STARS I’M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT I’M ABOUT TO DISSECT EVERY LAST REMAINING PANEL OF THIS CHAPTER PROBABLY YOU GUYS. WE COULD BE HERE A WHILE

love how Fuyu has absolutely no idea how to segue into THE SINGLE MOST AWKWARD CONVERSATION SHE’S EVER HAD, so she just GOES FOR IT in pure small talk mode like they��re meeting up for brunch somewhere

I KNOW IT’S A SMALL THING, BUT I APPRECIATE THAT THE FIRST THING ENJI ASKS IS WHETHER THEY’RE OKAY

lastly while I can’t wait for more of this delicious Natsu angst, I also just have to say that Enji has as much reason to cry right now as anyone on the planet. you can’t deny that being confronted by your not-dead-but-you-thought-he-was-dead son who’s all “SURPRISE DAD I GREW UP TO BE A MASS MURDERER AND I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW I’M GONNA MAIM YOUR OTHER KID” with a side order of “EVERYONE HATES YOU AND SOCIETY IS CRUMBLING AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD EVER AGAIN” is enough to bum pretty much anyone out. there’s a Pagliacci the Clown joke here somewhere. BUT DOCTOR, I AM THE NUMBER ONE HERO

oh man lol he is seriously falling apart

damn. like you guys, I’m sorry, go ahead and cancel me, but I do feel compassion for the man. it’s therapeutic for me to see an abuser actually feel remorse and be truly sorry and want to change and want to make it up to his family. and it’s also compelling as fuck to read a narrative about a family that’s trying to grapple with that, because let me tell you straight up, as someone who’s done a version of that song and dance -- it is exhausting. it is a piping hot mess. it’s a gigantic mishmosh of extremely volatile emotions that all somehow all contradict one another. love, hurt, hope, anger, betrayal, resentment, attachment, longing. it’s something you can both be desperate for and also want nothing at all to do with. and attempting to portray all of that and write about it is a monumental task, and one which Horikoshi has done so, so delicately thus far, and damn but I appreciate it. anyway, so I’m here and I’m ready for my latest helping of Todoroki Fam Feels you guys

GASP

oh man. OHMANOHMANOHMAN. CAN IT REALLY BE. IS THIS THE REDEMPTION ARC OF CHAPTERS 100 AND 200???

LMAO SHE’S ALL “WE ALL FEEL BAD YOU JACKASS STOP CRYING ABOUT IT”

LAY INTO HIM REI!! SORRY ENJI YOUR PITY PARTY HAS BEEN CANCELLED IN FAVOR OF A “SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT” PARTY COURTESY OF QUEEN ELSA OVER HERE. THE PEOPLE TOOK A VOTE AND WE WANT LESS WHINING AND MORE ACTION

oh my god look at this lady folks

NOTE THE HAIR BLOWING IN THE NONEXISTENT WIND. NOW WE KNOW WHERE SHOUTO GOT THIS POWER FROM

(ETA: btw guys, seeing Rei handle this crisis like an absolute champ despite everything she’s been through is everything, though. I’m reminded of Hawks’s line last week about people sometimes unexpectedly finding liberation when they’re backed into a corner. like things may be shit but goddammit her kiddos need her.)

THE CHAPTER IS ALREADY ENDING SOB, IT’S ONLY A 17-PAGER THIS WEEK, BUT GODDAMN WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE

oh my god. oh my god oh my god. AND FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI FOR CUTTING IT OFF THERE sob. it’s like each week the wait for the next chapter becomes more painful. the Todofam is about to get real, and on top of that Hawks is gonna crash the party at some point down the line, and on top of that we’re still waiting for Kacchan to have his own heartfelt discussion about What The Fuck Are We Supposed To Do Next with his best friend who’s currently in a coma. all I want to do with my life is read about these three things, and all I can do is simply wait as they are portioned out in agonizing, addicting little installments every week

anyway! tune in next time as we answer the question of whether or not fandom will finally run its train of logic all the way through to its natural conclusion and somehow manage to cancel Noted Abuse Apologist Todoroki Fucking Rei. don’t act like it can’t happen. you all know nothing is sacred lol. anyways but I’m ready for anything lol, bring it

#bnha 300 #endeavor #todoroki enji #todoroki shouto #todoroki rei #all them todorokis #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I can't believe I've done 300 of these now lol #think I'm gonna finally have to update the post index again

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