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astriefer · 4 years ago

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Please have this messy, badly written scenario as a humble gift to you, because I wanted to do something since I reached 200 followers!

Bits of Truth

They stood in front of the Carstairs' townhouse in Cornwall Gardens. Christopher seemed mildly confused about what they were doing there as if he had not been paying attention. James shared one last glance with Thomas before he knocked on the door.

A few bits of silence flew by, in which they had held their breaths. Then footsteps tapped on the floor, and the door cracked open.

A wave of relief passed through James that not Sona nor Risa or any other maid came to open the door. Then he thought what a peculiar thought it was for him to be relieved by. Alastair looked at them, frozen in place, blinking a few times as if he didn't believe they were truly there. He rejoined his composure hastily. He didn't let them in - he stood in the front door and his eyes searched theirs for an explanation. It was like a weird staring contest. Eventually, Alastair spoke first. "Cordelia is not here. You know it fairly well."

He moved to close the door. "We haven't come for Cordelia," he said quickly, which received another incredulous glance from Alastair. "Well, we have. But not because we thought she'd show up here. We came to talk to you."

Alastair narrowed his eyes, expressionless, and considered James. Then he glanced at Christopher and Thomas, noting their desperate eyes. "About my sister?"

"We won't take long," promised James, despite he wasn't sure it's true. Alastair studied him, and James felt himself going rigid. He leveled Alastair with his indecipherable gaze.

Then Alastair had stepped back from the door and ushered them in. "My mother is in her bedroom, resting, and Risa went shopping for supper. So, you have to be quiet. Make it quick.'

~~~~

Alastair took their coats and tilted his head towered the parlor. A kettle whiselted in the kitchen. As he gestured them inside he turned the other way. A fire burned in the chimney, and a book rested peacefully on the armchair. When James examined closer he discovered it was written in Persian. Thomas mumbled something about Persian poetry.

Alastair came inside with a tray and James thought he was, for a change, being hospitable, but he ignored them and disappeared up the stairs. When he got back, empty-handed, James assumed the tea was for his mother. Alastair placed the book on the table as he sat down in front of them. Thomas and Christopher set on a love sofa and James set stoned on another armchair. He didn't waste time being the kind host, James presumed. "What it is about my sister?"

The golden-eyed boy decided the best tactic was started from what he knew. That wasn't much, but it was the most important thing, and he was certain about it, at the very least. "I love your sister."

Alastair raised his eyebrows, amused. "Yes, that's something that tends to happen between married couples, I've been told."

James shook his head. "This marriage, of Cordelia and I," just saying her name on his lips made a treacherous skip of his heartbeat, full of hurt and love. "It was a sham marriage."

Alastair pools of dark marble were fixed on James when he explained, rather awkwardly, the events that led to their marriage. And then events that led to Cordelia leaving the country. He prospected Alastair would be outraged, throw spears at them, maybe even recite some very angry poetry phrases in Persian. Instead, Alastair was very still for very long. When he did speak, the words weren't the James expected them to be. "I knew the marriage wasn't out of love," Alastair said calmly. "But I didn't expect you to tell all that rubbish."

James blinked. "It's the truth."

"Oh, I know," Alastair returned with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I doubt you would come up with such a ludicrous idea on your own, even if just to spite me. and I also know Cordelia wouldn't have slept with you unwedded, no matter how much she loved you."

All the thieves caught their breath when Alastair leaned forward, his month curving in an odd angle. "I also know being married to you was a wish she never thought would come true, and that you cared for her. You claimed her as yours and you defended her. It was good for Cordelia, and so I said nothing."

James snorted, although he hadn't found the conversation funny. Not the least. "I thought I loved Grace at that time. I felt bad when the thought of living with Cordelia was more appealing than I expected." The thought of Grace made his features harden. "And because of Grace, for years I've been blind. Manipulated. I lost my wife and Parabatai. She played with me like a doll; messed with my feelings, messed with my life. This is unforgivable."

He did not notice Christopher who tensed up and fixed his spectacles on his nose. "She did some bad things," he said, surprising them all. "But I don't think she's evil."

James furrowed his brow. "She's like a siren: beautiful and compelling, but going after her will only end in you being drowned."

"I see," Alastair said, turning back to James. "But why? Why did she do it?"

"Does it matter?" James asked. "She hurt so many people. She doesn't even deserve to apologize. It won't matter anyhow - the damage is done. After all she has done...sorry will never be enough. Nothing will."

"It matters," Alastair said. "Because you don't know her side of the tale. You don't know what she thinks. What she feels. You don't know if she had to do what she did."

He was tempted to say Grace has no feelings at all. "I believe I'm allowed to be angry."

"I do agree that what she had done to you is far above a jest or a play with hearts," there was a strange flame burning in the deep ponds of Alastair's dark eyes. "And you have no obligation to forgive her. But why not hear what she has to say? You are the one with the power. You know the truth. She can not affect you any longer."

James shook his head. "You don't know Grace," he said coldly, gravely. "She will try to use me. She will try and make me do as she wishes. I will not be a pawn in her game again. She controlled my life long enough."

Alastair glanced away, pondering over something. Thomas turned his head nervously between James and Alastair. For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Thomas inquired, "Why do you insist James will hear her out?"

"You have no idea of her motives," Alastair retorted. "What she's done - she must know it's wrong. And she will have to live with this knowledge for the rest of her days. You are allowed to be angry, James, and rightfully so. But don't let it blind you. That you have been kept from certain kinds of evil doesn't mean everyone else had. You have no clue what led her to those decisions." Alastair looked distanced. James managed to guess he's not been talking only about Grace. "You should talk to her. You may not forgive her, but you deserve to understand, to know why to hear the plain truth. And you should let her mourn what she could have had and lost."

James wasn't sure he fully comprehended. "I wouldn't have loved her. Even without the bracelet issue - my heart belongs to Cordelia."

"What do you mean?" Christopher asked. "That not everyone had been kept from evil."

Alastair shrugged. "I met Tatiana Blackthorn only once. She's a madwoman. She doesn't seem like the kind of caring, kind mother to pet her daughter's shoulder. Besides, Grace seemed to be controlled by Tatiana, rather than working alone or alongside her."

"She took the love of my life away from me," James growled. "Nothing can atone for that."

"The love of your life is my sister," he reminded James. "I can hardly find the idea of her being heartbroken a good thing. And the one who caused this pain is not much liked, as well. But you shouldn't think that just because you would've done it otherwise, it was an option for her. You can't know what are the options in front of people. You can't know how they feel unless you talk to them. So talk to Grace, James. Then seek out my sister. If you love her like you claim you do, will you give up on her so easily?"

"No," James stood up, "I will not."

Alastair nodded. "why did you come and tell me about your little schemes? Why now?"

Now, after so much time of lying, why tell the truth? Why not keep it in its cage of delicately made lies?

James cut his gaze to the book on the table. Thomas answered instead in a quiet voice. "She is your sister. You must have been worried about her. We wanted to tell you because - because you deserve to know the truth and understand why things happened the way they did."

What Thomas did not say was what none of them wanted to admit. Cordelia ran away to Paris with Matthew. Even if she'll be back in only two weeks - they all were worried sick. James couldn't blame her, he was awful and blind. All of this was a mess. If she needed time to calm down in Paris, he couldn't deny it of her, even if he had a say in this choice.

Alastair studied Thomas, and James felt the half-Persian hadn't quite believed them. It was true - they needed his help in the future. But it was a start. "Anything else? A ghost friend? Another evil aunt?"

"No," Christopher affirmed.

"Good," Alastair said. James might have imagined it but he thought he saw Alastair sneak a glance at Thomas before standing up. "Now get out of my house. Risa will be here any minute."

~~~~

I- how?? Thank you so much, everyone!! 🙈 Thank you, you can't understand how much it means to me. 🥺

This is mind-blowing. Truly. For whatever reason you follow me, know that I love you <3

Tagging some of my mutuals, you are all wonderful and make my time here so much better (not all of them because my brain is all wonky, but I mean all of you): @kit-12 @littlx-songbxrd @pink-party-dino @shadowhuntertrash @gummybears-4u @itsdaughterofthemoon @mcrrythievcs @fictionally-fantastic @reyna-herondale I'll tag more but I don't want to bother anyone so... thank you!! I don't know what people find in my blog, but I am grateful, and I appreciate all of you endlessly.

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ye4gerismarchives · 3 years ago

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the bachelorette: the wedding

an: h-hey guys😅 a whole month w/o rhe bachelorette. y’all prolly forgot about it. fortunately, i haven’t😭 sorry yall, i’ve been up all night for the past month reading about nasty white men instead of writing for the bachelorette. this chapter has 4768 words, so i guess that’s a plus.

tags: black, fem reader. i don’t have any triggers off my head, if something does trigger you, do let me know

taglist: @taybird

5:00 am

You had plans to send Levi to his grave. How dare he wake you up at like four in the morning only to start your makeup and hair an hour later? The makeup and hair team were completely respectful towards you and respected your space, considering today was going to be full of emotions.

As your face was getting beat, there was a knock at the door. The makeup artist working on your face stopped so that you could address the person at the door. "If your name is Levi, don't bother coming in," you say. The door opens and your heart jumps because

Her Royal Highness Princess Historia and her girlfriend, Ymir, were in YOUR room.

"Oh sh*t, Your Royal Highness," you let out. Members of your team start to curtsy and bow to Historia. Ymir stands awkwardly behind her. She must have been getting used to the royal bs around her.

You stand to curtsy as well but Historia raises a hand to stop you. "Today is all about you. Ymir and I are going to be your bridesmaids today! Levi called us and we decided we would support you today!" she says cheerfully.

So, Levi probably wasn't going to die today. Now, you couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him but you still side eyes him. He was a powerful guy- you were still under the impression that he said something to Mikasa during the show and caused her unusual behavior.

"O-Oh?"

"Yeah! Ymir and I will get changed but we'll see you in your dress."

And with that, the princess and her girl left your room. It was like a dream.

5:30 am

Weeks before the wedding came, you went dress shopping. However, it didn't go how you wanted it to go. Ideally, you would be dress shopping with Sasha, Mikasa, and Connie. There was no way in hell you would call Sasha and ask her to go with you. You called Connie, who refused to pick up. You thought about calling Mikasa but you felt uneasy about it. So, Levi and his husband, Erwin, went with you.

Erwin was a complete angel. He asked you respectful questions about your life and even made you laugh. Spending time with Erwin made you realized how...dark Levi was and even made you question why they were even together. But your thoughts couldn't stop you from seeing how Levi melted under Erwin's touch. They loved each other. You hoped that You and Jean would be like that.

With their help, you managed to pick the perfect dress.

Slipping it on for the second time was just as magical as it was the first. Your team awed and cooed over how beautiful you looked. Historia and Ymir entered in matching pink outfits and immediately started fawning over how good you looked.

You felt your face redden up and you couldn't help but smile. But all of that went away when a familiar face entered.

"You...you look good, y/n."

"Mikasa...what are you doing here?"

Mikasa was standing in front of you in the same pink color that Ymir and Historia were in but her outfit was a sleeveless wide-legged jumpsuit. Her bangs were brushed away from her face and the rest of her hair sat behind her ears- well, mostly.

"Levi called me. He apologized for everything and told me to come over to apologize to you too. And then he forced me to be your maid of honor," Mikasa explained.

Levi forcing her to come over sounded like him but apologizing? He must have realized he went too far, especially since Mikasa was his niece. Levi was too caught up in creating and entertaining drama that he probably forgot Mikasa's relation to him.

So, you decided to let everything go.

You walk towards Mikasa with arms open and she's shocked but she doesn't hesitate to envelop you in her arms are well.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I know was so out of line. I'll never let any man get in the way of our friendship again," Mikasa said as she squeezed you harder.

"Same here. If things don't work out with Jean, I'll marry you instead," you joke. You can feel Mikasa's laughter vibrate against your neck. She pulls away first and you proceed to ask another question. "Have you been in touch with Sasha?"

Mikasa purses her lips and shakes her head. "She's been radio silent. I can't tell if she got more backlash than me. She's off social media and just unwilling to speak with anyone. The hate probably got to her and she's just hiding for now."

You weren't too surprised. Mikasa was doing a job- a terrible one- but Sasha went out of her way to sleep with one of your guys...but she was drunk. You could imagine Sasha being the most discussed and debated online. Without speaking to her, you wouldn't know what was really going on in her mind.

"Oh! You never said hi to Princess Historia or Ymir. They're my bridesmaids for the day," you point out. The color leaves Mikasa's face when she realizes who's in the room with her. "Sh*t. Your Royal Highness," Mikasa curtsies. Historia lets out one of her signature giggles and begins to introduce herself and Ymir to Mikasa. As that goes on, your team starts helping you with your dress again.

You were slightly glad Mikasa was by your side today. The situation between the both of you was awkward but you were willing to give her another chance.

7:30 am

In the last two hours, you've done photoshoots and chat with everyone around you. Now it was time for Jean to be yours and for you to be his. You did question the early wedding time that Levi gave you but this would probably be the last time you saw that man so let's just let him do what he wants.

You were visibly nervous. You were gripping onto Mikasa's hand like it would be your last time doing so. "Hey, just remember, he's not your real husband. At least for now. This is all show," Mikasa reminds you. She was right. Jean may have been romantic with you but also he got his hour of fame, he could possibly leave you. Maybe he would get married to Connie.

You started to take a few deep breaths as you pulled up in front of the venue. Levi had rented a beach (not the one you and Connie were on) for your wedding.

From what you could see in the car, there were multiple seats and people were filling them up. You hoped that Connie's family had no ill-feeling toward you and decided to show up. It would be a shame since you were caught on television talking about how you would love for them to be there.

Your car came to a slow end. "y/n, do not worry. Remember, THIS is all fake. Only you decide if it's real," Mikasa reminds you. Levi opens your door and offers his hand to you. "It's go time." Mikasa helped you with your veil making sure that it wouldn't hit the ground.

"y/n, I know I may have been a menace but I'm happy for you. You might have had the most popular season yet," he says. Him bringing up ratings was no shock to you. You don't reply and Levi have his moment.

You like to think that Jean would like to spend the rest of his life with you. You knew that wasn't the case with many Bachelorettes and Bachelors but you look at Levi and Erwin...ah well, that wasn't a good example, considering that Erwin wasn't a contestant. He was the previous host. 'CALM DOWN,' you tell yourself, 'YOU AND JEAN WILL BE GOOD. AND IF HE DOESN'T LIKE YOU, ITS WHATEVER BECAUSE I'M THE BEST THING EVER.'

Minutes later, you're at the end of the aisle. Jean has his back turned and he's pacing back and forth slightly. Next to him is Connie. You know this because you recognize his big egg head. You're happy he put everything aside to support the both of you.

Mikasa takes her place in front of you and the music starts. Levi offers you his arm and you take it.

This was really happening.

You looked into the audience with a smile on your face but everything was moving so fast, you couldn't recognize their faces.

Before you knew it, you were by Jean. He still couldn't look at you- not until Levi gave you away. The marriage officiant clears his throat and begins to talk.

"We are gathered here today to witness the union of Jean and y/n. Welcome friends and family! We're glad to have you with us.

Today is the beginning of a remarkable journey for this couple. Drawing on their mutual admiration, respect, and trust, they are ready to embark on the next chapter in their lives. We celebrate the love and light evident in their relationship and wish them well on this joyous occasion.

Who gives this woman away?"

"I do," Levi answers. He takes Jean's hand and places it on top of yours. Jean then moves his under yours so that he could hold it. He looks down at Levi and mouths 'Thank you'. The shorter male nods and takes a seat.

The officiant gives you and Jean a moment to face each other. Jean had the biggest smile on his face when his eyes landed on you. "You look gorgeous," he whispers. "You're not so bad yourself," you reply.

The officiant continues. "If anyone has cause to object to the forming of this union, speak now or forever hold your peace." You look over Jean's shoulder to see Connie. You couldn't see his whole face, thanks to Jean's height, but you could see his eyes. They were narrowed and looking straight at you.

You wanted to feel bad, but you couldn't. YOU decided that Connie would not be your spouse, and that was final.

No one responded to the officiant's request, so he continued.

"Marriage is an integral part of the human tradition. Let us remember, as we stand here before the Universe, that the vows taken today hold great importance, just as they did to our ancestors. As individuals, we choose to enter the union of marriage to share all aspects of ourselves with our soulmate. Today, this is true for Jean and y/n."

Soulmate. You hoped that was true for you and Jean. You did meet him on a tv show.

"There are few greater joys in life than finding someone with whom we truly "click." In that spirit, I will now share a short reading on soulmates from author Richard Bach:

"A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise. Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we've found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life."

Under the eyes of Ymir, together we take a moment to acknowledge the seriousness of the commitment being entered into today. With great joy, we also recognize the special bond shared by Jean and y/n.."

This...this was a special bond indeed. Not only that, it was completely random. The next part of the wedding was your vows. The next part of solidifying your relationship.

"I will now invite the couple to share their vows. Jean and y/n, the promises you make today are sacred; they are the groundwork from which your marriage will grow and blossom over time.

Jean, would you like to begin first?"

Jean nods and squeezes your hands. "y/n, hopefully by the end of this ceremony, you will be my wife. I know there's a lot that you're worried about but I'll do everything to make you happy. I'll always protect you and keep you satisfied."

"y/n, your turn."

"Jean. I'm not too sure what to say...you've out-speeched me," you joke. Jean chuckled. "But...I too promise to love and protect you. I'll also make sure we're on the same page because that's very important for our relationship. I'm willing to fight for us."

You look at the officiant, letting him know that you were done.

"Let us proceed. Jean, before your family and friends, do you take y/n as your beloved Wife, to have and to hold, through laughter and in sadness, through challenges and successes, so long as you both shall live?"

Jean is silent for a moment. He's rubbing the back of your right hand and staring straight into your eyes- almost as if he was reevaluating everything. This made you nervous. Jean was a smart guy. You know you couldn't hold him down and force him to do anything he didn't want.

"I...I do," he finally answers. The weight on your chest dissolves.

"y/n, before your family and friends, do you take Jean as your beloved Husband, to have and to hold, through laughter and in sadness, through challenges and successes, so long as you both shall live?"

"Yes, I do," you answer quickly. You hear small laughs coming from the audience.

The officiant gives you a small smile before continuing. "Wedding rings are a traditional symbol of the strength of the bond between two soulmates." Connie comes from behind Jean with the wedding bands and gave you both one.

"This bond is never broken, and continues in a perpetual circle, glowing with the warmth and eternal light of two souls in a perfect union. By wearing these rings, you will be always reminded of the connection you share and the vows you have made today. Jean, please, repeat after me;

I, Jean..."

"I, Jean..."

"present you, y/n, with this ring..."

"as a symbol of our everlasting love."

"Let it never lose its luster..."

"just as my love for you will never fade."

Jean, still gently holding your hand, slips the ring on (whatever finger your culture uses for weddings!). He can't help but admire it for a moment. He looks back up at you with the biggest grin. All you had to do was place the ring on his finger and your marriage would be "official".

"y/n, repeat after me. I, y/n..."

"I, y/n..."

"present you, Jean, with this ring..."

"as a symbol of our everlasting love..."

"let it never lose its luster..."

"just as my love for you will never fade."

You slip the ring onto Jean's left finger.

"By the power vested in me by the Ymir Life Church and Paradis, under the eyes of the Ymir, I happily pronounce you Husband and Wife! Jean, kiss your bride."

At that moment, everyone disappeared. It was just you and Jean. Jean places a hand on your waist and pulls you in. You find your hands riding up his chest and resting on his shoulder as you get closer. You and Jean connect and all of sudden, you're not in that bubble anymore.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time, I give you Mr. Kirstein and Mrs. l/n!!."

You and Jean left together as "spouses". The first thing you did was official wedding photoshoots that were to be spread all over Paradis and all over the world- thanks to social media. Y'all kinda look like Meghan and Harry tbh.

Anyway.

You both got an opportunity to change in your reception outfits. After that, it was another car ride to the reception venue. Jean held your hand and couldn't stop talking about how beautiful you looked. You were so flustered, you couldn't get a response out. When you reached the venue, the driver helped out first and Jean slipped out of the car after you. He took your hand and entered the reception venue with you.

When you entered the dining hall, you were welcomed by cheers and claps. It was extremely overwhelming- not in a bad sense, however. You looked around the room and caught some familiar faces. You saw Bertholdt and Reiner sitting at a table with another unfamiliar girl. Across the room, Mikasa is seated with Connie, Historia, and Ymir. Everyone else is family that Levi most likely reached out to.

You and Jean take a seat and the cheering calms down. You lean on Jean's shoulder and sigh. The day wasn't over yet, but you were already so tired. Jean places his head on top of yours. "I can't wait to just be with you. I don't know what you had planned tonight but to be honest, I just want to sleep. I haven't realized how tired I was until now," Jean says quietly. "I have to agree. Let's just take a shower, cuddle and just pass out."

Jean brings his head up and smirks at you. "A shower? Together?" You only roll your eyes jokingly. "Oh, look, I think Levi is gonna call us up to have our first dance." "Don't worry, I'll get my answer sooner or later, y/n. You can't run from me." Jean pokes your arm teasingly, which causes you to squirm a little bit. Levi calls you up and Jeans takes your hand to lead you to the dance floor.

(Song of your choice) starts playing and you're not even sure where to start. Jean has a hand on your waist and is holding your free hand. You have a hand on his shoulders. "I'm not even sure where to start, we never practiced," you whisper. Jean smiles softly. "Don't worry about it. We're in this together aren't we?" He begins to move, taking full control. You stumble a bit but your reception dress hides your clumsiness. After a bit, you weren't stumbling anymore. You rest your head on Jean's shoulder and he pulls you even closer. Your movements get even slower. The music slowly disappeared and so did everyone else. It was just you and Jean.

When the music actually came to an end, you pulled away slowly. "You did great," Jean says softly. "So did you." You both go back to your seats. Waiters started to come out and take everyone's orders for dinners and started to pour drinks- meaning a toast would be coming up.

Mikasa comes up to the dance floor and awkwardly clanks her glass, trying to get everyone's attention. Everyone turned their heads and it wasn't because of the awkward clanking of the glass. There were some 'What the hell is she doing here?'s and 'Eren's b*tch?'s. You could visibly see Mikasa's nervousness so you attempted to lock eyes with her. It took her a while but she could finally look you in the eye. Mikasa clears her throat. "Um, hi. You're probably wondering why I'm here but today is not about me. It's about y/n and Jean. I was once y/n's closets friends until I was pressured to do something that I wouldn't normally do." Mikasa gives Levi a side-eye. The shrimp man crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.

"y/n is absolutely amazing...I can't really put it into words but there's something about her that just make people want to be around her. I can see why Jean fought so hard to be with her."

Jean squeezes your hand when she makes that comment.

"I often think to myself about how y/n could have easily met Jean at a café or a movie theatre or something rather than on TV show. But at the same time, this was good for her...and all of us. Here we discovered the lengths of our friendship and who we really were as people. I believe these ups and downs helped y/n find Jean- her true love. Honestly, I wish you both a happy future. Make it worth it."

Mikasa raises her glass and everyone clinks their glass with their neighbors. Connie begins to walk up to the dance floor as soon as Mikasa leaves.

"I'm going to be really honest with you. This is was unexpected. I honestly thought that today was going to be about me." Connie raises his eyebrows at Jean, who furrows them.

"But I guess it's a good thing I didn't marry y/n. I wouldn't have been enough to handle. So, congrats to you, Jean. You're tolerable."

Connie gets off the dance floor without giving you or Jean a look. You look at Jean and he's hurt. "H-hey...maybe he's drunk or something. In his feelings, you know? Don't let him make you feel bad," you say. Jean gives you a small smile before sipping down his drink.

Moments later, it was time for parent dances. Jean got up to dance with his mom. It was a little bit uncoordinated than yours but they looked like they were having a lot of fun.

Next was the bouquet and garter toss. You started with the garter first. You sat in a chair with your legs cross. You knew this was going to happen but it wasn't rehearsed. Jean could see your uneasiness, so he started doing a silly sensual dance. It made you laugh and your laughter got louder once he started shimming down to the floor. He got closer to your thigh and you felt your face heating up. You slapped your hand over your mouth once he starting biting the garter and pulling it off. As he continued, you cupped your face. When Jean was finally day, cheers erupted and you uncovered your hot face. Jean closes his eyes and throws the garter into the crowd and it lands in the hands of Reiner. The guys cheer even louder for him as he awkwardly glances over at Bertholdt, who is a few people away from him.

Next was the bouquet throwing. You closed your eyes and the guest counted you off. Once you heard the number three, you threw the bouquet. You open your eyes and turn around to see that Bertholdt had gotten the flowers. His face is so red...he look like a tomato.

After your guest settled down, it was time to cut your cake, meaning that your wedding day was almost over. You picked a (cake of your choice) for tonight. "It looks delicious. I can't wait to try it," Jean whispers in your ear. "It is. You'll love it," you respond. You pick up a knife. Jean wraps his hands around yours. You both gently place the knife on the cake and pushed it down. You lean back to give Jean a kiss and he gives you one. Jean grabs two forks by the cake and hands one over to you.

Jean scoops a piece of the cake first. He places a hand on your chin and you open your mouth. "Ladies first," he says as he places the cake in your mouth. You take a minute to savor the taste before swallowing. You also take a piece of the cake and get on your toes to feed Jean. He chuckles softly at your struggle before taking the fork from you and feeding himself. "You're right, it's good," he says after swallowing. He bends down slightly to give you another kiss.

The night was slowly coming to an end. There was no sight of Connie after his stupid speech and Levi and Erwin were getting ready to get home. Historia and Ymir had left right after the cake cutting ceremony but had promised to call you once everything had settled down. You and Jean formally greeted your guest and started your goodbyes.

Mikasa had gone up to you with a slightly awkward face. "Today wasn't so bad, huh?" she starts. You give her a kind smile. "It wasn't. Did you enjoy yourself?" Mikasa pauses to answer. "Your wedding was beautiful...however, I can't get upset over the reaction about me being here. y/n, I have to apologize again. What I did was completely wrong. I shouldn't even be blaming Levi for everything. I could have told you at first and-"

You pull Mikasa into a hug to shut her up. "Mikasa, move on. Come on, we're adults! At least you're apologizing and trying- unlike someone we know," you joke. You pull away. "Hopefully, if Jean and I have a real wedding, it won't be as awkward for you." Mikasa nods. "I'll see you around. Congrats." As Mikasa walks off, Reiner, Bert, and this mystery blonde come up to you. Inside Reiner's pocket is your garter sticking out and Bertholdt is clenching your bouquet.

"Hey," you start," Thank you for coming. Who's your friend?"

Bertholdt looks over at the blonde. "Thank you for inviting us...um...this is Annie. My dad thought you were her."

Now, why did Bertie's dad think you was this yt girl?😟

LMAO. "Nice to keep you, Annie. You Bertie's girl?" you ask.

Annie shakes her head no frantically. "OH, NO. Never in a million years, no. Yuck!" she answers dramatically. Reiner throws an arm over Bert's shoulder. "He's actually my boy now," he says proudly. "OH-! Congrats! So we're having a wedding for you soon, yes?" You tease. Reiner nods and Bertie tries to hide his face in Reiner's hair. "When did this all happen...? I just eliminated you like...two weeks ago?"

"Well...Reiner and I were still in contact and when I left, he reached out to me. We met up a few times and we hit it off," Bertie explains. "Congrats. I'm really happy to hear that," you answer. You turn around to look for Jean. He's talking to his mom. He gives you a small glance before continuing his conversation with her. "I better go catch up with Jean. It was nice to see you...and finally meeting you, Annie." The trio say their goodbyes before leaving.

You make your way over to Jean but you're stopped by the human fit of annoyance- Levi. You were so tired of him but you threw on a smile since Erwin was walking over as well. "Yes, Levi? I thought we were done here," you say in a singsong voice. "Aw, you're ready to go?" Levi says sarcastically. You open your mouth to answer but he cuts you off. "For starters, thank you for adding on to mine and Erwin's paychecks. We really appreciate it. Arrangements for your hotel and honeymoon have been put together. You're tired of me, but don't hesitate to call me if something goes wrong. Besides that, I wish you luck. Make everything worth it."

Levi walks past you and Erwin stops to hug you before following his husband.

Jean makes his way up to you, his mom following behind. "Everything good? I saw shrimp talking to you." You take Jean's hand. "Everything's good." Jean pulls you into a side hug. "Aw, you guys are so cute. I really do hope you last," Jean's mom comments, "I've always wanted a daughter."

"Mom, nothing's official yet-"

"I'm glad you think of me as your daughter, June."

"Well, I'll see you later. Jean, take care of her tonight. Be good to her and listen to her. Don't be rough, she's not a rag doll," June warned her son. She had a finger up in his face and everything. Seeing their relationship on the regular was going going to be hilarious.

Jean swats his mom's finger out of his face before waving her goodbye. He then fully wraps his arms around you. "No offense. But I'm glad this is over. We'll get to know each other one on one now," he says. You can't help but agree.

ITS FINALLY OVER. well not exactly. i have one more chapter to write and y’all will never hear about levi, 12 guys, and dates ever again😭 but since this series has reached its goal (you getting married) please do me a favor and rate my series, it would be appreciated!

#black!reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x black! reader #jean x black!reader #jean x reader #bertholdt x reader #connie spinger x reader #onyankopon x reader #eren x reader #reiner x reader #aot x reader #floch x reader #porco x reader #colt grice x reader #nicolo x reader #armin arlert x reader

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

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Hjarta | Chapter 9

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

Author’s note: Warning! This chapter is slightly nsfw ;)

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

SIX DAYS LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

Eivor trudged through the glimmering waves of snow that concealed the path ahead of him and held tightly onto his cloak, shielding himself from the cold weather as he ventured underneath the deep night sky.

At the moment, the moon was hovering just above a summit of clouds and parting the sheer darkness with its piercing rays of light, casting a delicate veil over the village’s facade.

Blots of shadows gathered in the spaces that lay between the torches standing along the trail, and in the distance, Eivor could hear the faint voices of people who were still awake.

Overall, it was a rather peaceful night to end the bustling day, and the Wolf-Kissed found himself eager to get some sleep. Despite the weariness that clung onto his body however, Eivor’s mind wasn’t quite ready to rest just yet.

No matter what he did, his thoughts always seemed to drift back to the elusive prince. He hadn’t seen Sigurd ever since their last encounter in the longhouse, but even then, it had become nearly impossible for Eivor to think about anything else.

He was constantly worrying about the man. He feared for his friend’s well-being and questioned if there was any way to ease the prince’s agitated nerves, but was never able to corner him during a break.

Eivor would catch glimpses of Sigurd here and there as he bolted from place to place, but it felt as if the man hardly had any time to blink. Let alone sit down for a talk.

It concerned Eivor to see the prince always teetering on the edge of his breaking point, but with the man’s never-ending list of duties constantly occupying him, he didn’t know what else to do anymore.

Part of him even suspected that Sigurd’s absence may have been intentional. They were both fully aware of the emotions they harbored for one another, and Eivor wondered if perhaps the man felt it necessary to distance himself from the Wolf-Kissed for the sake of the wedding. They had seen how easy it was for the two of them to get attached, after all, and maybe Sigurd thought it was no longer worth the risk.

If that was the case, then Eivor just hoped it was working better for the prince than it was for himself. They may have been separated for an entire week by now, but the young man only noticed a rise in his fondness for his companion.

It was starting to become an unbearable battle as Ingrida had predicted, and the fear swelling in Eivor’s chest gripped him harder the more he realized he was losing this fight. At this point, he simply wanted to get the wedding over with. Sigurd’s mere presence alone was enough to send the young man into a frenzy, and even though Eivor wished he could’ve stuck around for a longer period of time, he knew that things would only get worse if the Raven Clan didn’t leave soon.

Perhaps it was a selfish method of coping with the sudden change in their lives, but it was the last one he had. He didn’t know how else he would get Sigurd out of his thoughts, and the stress was starting to weigh him down.

Arriving at the longhouse, Eivor felt a kiss of relief settle into his bones as he stepped into the warmth of the building, finally escaping the arctic winds whirling around outside.

There was no one occupying the main hall besides him at the moment, and the only other presence Eivor spotted was a few of the dogs that roamed their village quietly sleeping on the floor.

It was an uneventful night, contrary to what the Wolf-Kissed expected. Normally, either Arngeir or Ulfar would still be wandering around at this hour -- wrapping up any unfinished business -- but neither of them were anywhere to be found. The fires in the war room had been snuffed out, and the only light Eivor could see was the one coming from the torch that stood beside his chambers.

When he took a closer look into the shadows however, he suddenly noticed another figure standing there, waiting patiently by the doorway. They didn’t say anything upon Eivor’s arrival, and yet, they seemed to be expecting him.

...It was Sigurd.

What was he doing here? Eivor assumed that the man would’ve been fast asleep by now, but the prince was here, silently thinking to himself with his back pressed against the wall. It looked like he had been there for a while, and if Eivor hadn’t taken a few steps closer, he would’ve thought that Sigurd was asleep based on how his head drooped from his neck.

“Sigurd...?” Eivor said, approaching the man with curiosity. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you tired?”

The prince’s head perked up once he heard his name, and a certain glint twinkled in his eyes.

“...Ah, Eivor. There you are.”

Eivor smirked and crossed his arms. “Were you waiting for me?”

Sigurd nodded, attempting to hide the fatigue in his voice. “Yes, actually. There’s something important I wanted to talk to you about. I would’ve come to you sooner, but... as you may’ve guessed, my schedule didn’t allow it.” He glanced at the darkness outside. “...I hope it’s not too late.”

The younger man shook his head. “No, not at all.”

“Are you sure?” Sigurd checked. “I don’t want to disturb you. I know you must be eager to get some rest.”

Eivor waved his hand in a dismissive but comforting way. “No, I’m sure. Come on in. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

His friend smiled in relief. “Thank you, Eivor. I promise, I’ll make it as brief as possible.”

Strolling into his chambers, Eivor walked past Sigurd and headed through the doorway, beckoning the man to follow him as the torch’s flame flickered briefly in his wake. Their footsteps echoed gently within the longhouse’s walls, and upon entering the room, it felt as if they had closed off the entire world, setting aside a piece of haven just for themselves.

Eivor swiftly removed the cloak from his shoulders once he was inside and slid it off, tossing it onto a nearby table. Afterwards, he placed his weapons down just beside the accessory, and set them on the wooden surface with a gentle thud.

“So,” Eivor said, bringing his attention back to Sigurd, “what troubles you, my friend? A shadow of unease stalks your every move.”

The prince chuckled, casually pacing around the room. “Is it so obvious? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re quite gifted when it comes to reading people.”

Eivor turned around to face him. “Indeed. Which is why I hope nothing too grave has happened?”

“No, no,” Sigurd reassured. “It’s just...”

The older man came to a stop and rested his hands on his hips, letting out a conflicted sigh.

“To be honest, I don’t even know where to start. I expected this to be much simpler before you arrived, but now that I’m actually talking to you... I’m at a loss for words.”

The Wolf-Kissed leaned against the table’s edge. “Then start from the beginning.”

A light laugh fluttered from Sigurd’s lips. “...You say that like it’s so easy.”

He trailed off into silence and combed a hand through his hair, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Listen, Eivor, I’m not exactly sure how to say this, so... bear with me. But over these past two weeks, I’ve been thinking about you without pause. I know you said you didn’t want to take things further -- and I respect that -- but with the wedding just a day away from now, it’s become almost impossible for me to ignore how I feel.”

The young man tilted his head. “What about Randvi? Do you still not feel anything for her? Even after all the time you’ve spent here?”

Sigurd shook his head. “Randvi is a good woman, but she’s not meant for me. And I’m not meant for her. I can see that now. There’s nothing between the two of us. There’s no connection like the one you and I have.” He took a few steps in Eivor’s direction, steadily closing the distance between them. “The truth is, Eivor...”

His expression suddenly sank. “...I want you. I know our people are depending on this alliance, but I’d be lying if I said I was willing to go through with this marriage.” His gaze fell to the floor. “I want our people to be safe. I want to give them a world where they won’t have to live in fear anymore. But what happens after the war’s finished? What happens when Kjotve’s dead? Do Randvi and I just live out the rest of our lives as a couple, despite not being in love?”

Sigurd brought his eyes back to Eivor. “How could anyone find happiness in a life like that? Perhaps it’s selfish to think this way, but... part of me wishes I could make my own decisions. I wish I could just walk away from this wedding, and be with someone I truly love.”

The Wolf-Kissed shrugged. “It’s not selfish to desire freedom, Sigurd. I think anyone would want that.”

“True,” he conceded, “but I’m going to be a king someday. If I want to do right by my people, I’ll have to put their needs before my own. Though, of course, it’s much easier said than done.”

Sigurd let out a breath and turned away from the younger man, shifting to a more downcast demeanor.

“...I’m sorry, Eivor. I don’t know why I’m putting all this on you. You probably have enough to worry about, and I imagine you’ll have a busy day with the wedding tomorrow. I’m not even sure why I came here.” He began making his way to the room’s exit. “I should let you rest.”

“No, wait...!” Out of instinct, Eivor reached for the prince’s hand and grabbed onto his wrist, halting the older man his tracks. A stunning silence ensued after the abrupt gesture, and within a heartbeat, Eivor found himself staring back into Sigurd’s eyes.

The prince looked absolutely baffled by the response. Despite their closeness in the past, Sigurd didn’t appear to be expecting such a knee-jerk reaction from the other man. It was clear he had built a metaphorical wall between the two of them during their time apart, and was being forced to confront his fondness for Eivor now that he had broken the barrier again.

“I...” Eivor allowed his hand to linger, not willing to retreat just yet, “...Sigurd, listen to me. I battle with these emotions on a daily basis as well. I care for you too. You know this. But... we are both bound by duty. We both have people depending on us, and as much as I want to take this further, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

Sigurd relaxed in Eivor’s hold, refusing to pull away from him. “...I know. It’s just difficult to accept, I suppose. I’ve spent all my life wandering the world without someone there to join me, and now that I’ve found you -- the gods want me to let you go. It... it feels wrong.”

The Wolf-Kissed frowned out of empathy. “...Perhaps in another life, when we are free from the restraints of this realm, can we finally be at peace with who we are. But until then...” Eivor felt his heart drop, “...we have a war to win. And we need this alliance to do it.”

Sigurd mirrored the man’s pain. “...Indeed.”

Letting his hand slip from Eivor’s grasp, the prince simply stood in the shadows without saying another word as the two of them drowned in a pool of regret, doing anything they could to break the surface.

It felt unfair to the younger man that he couldn’t be open about his affection for Sigurd, but he understood the gravity of what they were facing.

Their clans needed this marriage to work. They needed this joining to push back Kjotve’s forces, and to eradicate his cruelties from this kingdom for good.

But even then, Eivor wished desperately that he could embrace Sigurd to his heart’s content. He wished he could stick with the man the same way Ulfar did with Linnea, and part of him secretly envied the other people in his clan for being able to live without these concerns.

How different would things be if he were able to show Sigurd his true emotions? How much closer would they have become by now? He supposed he’d never find out. The burdens of this war far outweighed any desires he might’ve held, and he knew it would jeopardize the alliance to suggest anything else.

Still, it didn’t mean he wasn’t torn.

“Eivor?” Sigurd said abruptly, pulling the young man from his thoughts.

Eivor brought his focus back to the prince, suddenly realizing how the man was gazing out the window and into the night’s darkness. A newfound boldness had latched onto the warrior’s troubled visage, and merely just by watching him, Eivor could tell something was on his mind.

“...Yes?” He asked. “What is it?”

Sigurd’s brow crinkled with doubt, and he looked directly into the Wolf-Kissed’s eyes.

“Forgive me for being forward, but... would you be willing to lay with me tonight, Eivor?”

Eivor practically froze on the spot, taken aback by the blunt question. He wasn’t necessarily opposed to accepting the offer, but he found himself in shock nonetheless.

“What-- now?”

Sigurd caught onto his hesitation. “I realize this is sudden, but I have only until daybreak before I’m officially wed to Randvi. After that... my clan is returning to Fornburg to gather our forces. We’ll finally meet Kjotve on the battlefield alongside your people, and once that happens, I’m not certain I’ll ever get the chance to see you again. I... I want to cherish these last few hours with you.”

The younger man stumbled over his thoughts. “But what about the wedding, Sigurd? You’ll be a husband soon.”

The prince lowered his head in guilt. “I know. I’m not blind to the dishonor of my proposal, but as I said, I wish to share one last moment with you. Before I’m forced to leave you behind. Of course though, that’s only if you’re willing to do it. If not, then I’ll leave. No questions asked.”

Eivor’s words clumped together in his throat, and he gazed down at Sigurd’s hands, feeling the urge to reach for them once again. A fraction of his mind twisted at the idea of even considering the man’s offer, but the rest of him wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms.

He had been dreaming of an opportunity like this ever since he first grew attached to Sigurd. He spent day and night wondering what it would be like to welcome his touch, and now that it was finally presenting itself, he didn’t know whether he should’ve refused it... or embraced it.

What if someone found out? What if they couldn’t keep it a secret? Ulfar had already expressed some skepticism of their relationship in the past, and Eivor dreaded the possibility of anyone else discovering their furtive meeting. It would mean the end of this alliance if their secret was exposed. The Raven Clan would no doubt classify it as a betrayal, and Eivor didn’t even want to think about what his own people would do.

Still... he longed for Sigurd’s affection. His heart hammered at the thought of feeling his warmth, and the temptation of accepting his offer was growing more and more irresistible by the second.

Surely, it couldn’t cause that much harm, could it? It would only be for one night, and they wouldn’t see each other again after the marriage was set in place. No one would ever know about their encounter, and they could carry on with their lives as usual. Plain and simple.

Deep down, though -- Eivor knew it was wrong. He knew the potential risks of what he was walking into, and he knew it could cause great harm if things didn’t go according to plan.

At the moment however, he found it difficult to care.

“...Just for tonight, right?” Eivor whispered, stepping closer to Sigurd until they were mere inches apart.

The prince brought a hand up to the other man’s cheek and gently caressed it, holding Eivor in place.

“Just for tonight.” He assured. “Just you... and me.”

Eivor took a deep breath and closed his eyes in contentment, finally deciding to accept the proposal.

“...Okay, then.” He agreed. “I trust you.”

Craning his neck downward, Sigurd pulled the younger man further into his embrace and planted a soft kiss on his lips, instantly tightening his grip once they touched.

It felt as if a flame had just been ignited in his chest. Sparks of intimacy traveled across the top of his skin, and a newborn fire now burst throughout his veins, prompting him to bring Eivor even closer.

He deepened the kiss and slid his hands down the sides of the Wolf-Kissed’s waist, latching onto every muscle he felt beneath his fingertips. He held the man firmly in his grasp and pushed him back towards the table, only breaking their kiss to lift his companion.

In one swift motion, Sigurd pressed his arms under the crook of Eivor’s legs and brought him into the air, afterwards setting him down on the table’s surface. He drifted away from the man’s lips and began pecking kisses along the length of his neck, still delicately caressing Eivor’s cheek in his palm.

Meanwhile, Eivor wrapped his arms around Sigurd’s neck and rested his head on the prince’s shoulders, allowing bliss to overtake him as he felt the man’s kisses roaming further down his body. He felt a pair of hands tugging at the laces on his shirt once the kisses reached his clavicle, and within seconds, his collar had been peeled apart, revealing the skin underneath. But it didn’t stop there.

Sigurd continued to undo the rest of Eivor’s clothes and pulled them off one-by-one, discarding them until the man sat half-bare before him. By now, the only thing concealing Eivor’s body was a pair of trousers that rested very loosely below his hips, and even that didn’t stay in place for long.

Bringing the kisses to a temporary halt, Sigurd peered into his companion’s eyes with a gaze smothered by lust and shrugged off his cloak, taking a moment to remove his own clothing. To his pleasant surprise, Eivor decided to help too and began fidgeting with the buckles on his armor, hastily unstrapping them in order to reach the flesh beneath.

Within a heartbeat, Sigurd’s tunic was sliding off his shoulders and onto the floor, leaving his torso completely exposed. Numerous scars of different sizes dusted the pale complexion of his skin, and thanks to the flickering candlelight, the ridges of his muscles became sharpened by the shadows that threaten to envelop him.

But the prince didn’t give Eivor much time to marvel at the view. As soon as his tunic hit the floor, Sigurd lifted the man once again and returned to his barrage of kisses, carrying him over to the bed.

He tossed Eivor onto the cushion and instantly crawled over him, pinning his wrists down while tackling the laces on his trousers. His breathing had become more ragged at this point, and a faint red tint now stained the color on his cheeks.

Just before he could pull the laces loose however, a mischievous smirk spread across Eivor’s face and the man quickly switched their positions, pushing the prince so that he was now underneath him. He grabbed both of Sigurd’s wrists with a playful sense of agility, and locked the man in place before showering him with his own array of kisses.

He could feel the prince smiling as their lips met once again, and in addition to the excitement that now fueled his every move, Eivor also detected a warm rush of passion blossoming in the depths of his heart. His mind was screaming at him to stop what he was doing, but in the heat of the moment, he felt nothing except for pure bliss.

This was what he wanted. This was what he always dreamt about. It may have been wrong, and it may have been foolish, but by Freya -- Eivor would’ve been lying if he said it didn’t feel good. It was the one thing he never allowed himself to indulge in, and now, it felt incredible.

So, for the time-being, he simply shoved aside all worrisome thoughts and focused entirely on the man in front of him, eager to spend the rest of the night with his temporary lover.

He imagined he would be bathed in regret upon waking up from this mess, but right now, he didn’t care. At the moment, all he wanted was Sigurd. All he wanted was to be with him. He had spend so much time enforcing the barrier that stood between the two of them, and now, he was finally done with it.

He was breaking free from the shackles that this alliance had put on him, and he was no longer willing to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~

THE NEXT MORNING

A choir of birds whistled in harmony, bringing life to the stillness of the new day. Ribbons of golden light could be seen dancing across the quiet village, and in addition to the chatter that was now rising from the wildlife, the faint melody of music could also be heard ringing in the distance.

There were quite a few people wandering around, despite the early hour. Most of them were helping with preparations for the upcoming wedding, and the rest were simply just there to take in the morning view.

It was the start of a joyous day as far as the villagers were concerned. The alliance they had been planning for so long would finally be forged, and their days of living under Kjotve’s iron fist would come to an end.

As for Eivor, the young man was still trapped in his bed’s embrace, completely motionless in his slumber. His head remained buried in the warmth of his pillow, and he could feel a soft draft tickling the parts of his body that were exposed.

His mind was entirely clear of any worries for once. Not a single thought of war or death interrupted his dreams, and his soul remained unperturbed.

In spite of the comfort that now encompassed him however, there was one thing that was missing. He no longer felt the sensation of someone’s arm on his hip, and the space behind him seemed to be lacking a familiar weight.

“...Sigurd...?” Eivor mumbled softly, rolling onto his side.

There was no one there.

The spot beside him was cold with absence, and all of the prince’s clothes had been retrieved from the floor.

Sigurd was already gone, and Eivor was left with nothing but the company of his own regret.

“...Oh, you fool...” the young man muttered to himself, dragging a hand down his face. “...What were you thinking...?”

Freya willing, no one would ever learn about their forbidden escapade. There were already enough problems occupying the people of Bjornheimr, and Eivor’s mind went into a state of panic at the idea of anyone uncovering their affair, regardless of how temporary it may’ve been.

He supposed he would just have to carry on as if nothing had happened. He would have to attend the wedding with a fake smile on his face, and pretend that everything was fine.

But deep inside, Eivor knew he’d carry this encounter with him for many days to come. He longed for Sigurd’s love even more now, and instead of the felicity he should’ve felt for his sister’s marriage, he experienced only loneliness, and the desire to be with the prince again.

He was trapped in a hole he had dug with his own two hands, and now, he prayed that there’d be some way to climb out. He didn’t want the tragedies of Ingrida’s prediction to come true, but after everything that just occurred, he had a feeling it’d be impossible to stop it.

The Nornir were forcing him down this path they created, and he had already reached the point of no return.

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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frostedfaves · 4 years ago

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To Build A Home (10)

Masterlist

Pairing: Rosa Diaz x fem!reader

Summary: Rosa spent years building a friendship, relationship, and eventually a marriage and home with you. This tale follows your journey together up until her sudden murder. Now that you’ve tracked down her killer before anyone else, will you do the right thing and send him to prison or take care of him yourself?

Warnings: some emotional grieving with everyone involved, brief moment of soft!Rosa

A/N: this is the last chapter of the series! I’m sad that this is ending (aside from future blurb requests) but I’m excited to have more time to work on other things! I haven’t really worked on I Don’t Feel Alive much in the past few weeks so posting dates are TBD, but I will be opening my requests again soon while I figure it out! anyway thanks again for all your feedback, comments, reblogs, any little attention you gave to this series, I appreciate it all.

Previous chapter here

A frantic knocking brings Jake and Amy’s attention away from their book or phone, the two of them locking eyes across the table.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

Jake shakes his head, following Amy as she jumps to her feet and heads to the door. Upon opening it, her heart breaks at the sight of you on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers that caught a few of the tears spilling down your cheeks.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry for popping up so suddenly,” you spoke hoarsely, attempting and failing to clear your face with one sleeve. “It’s our first wedding anniversary and I was going to visit her grave but before I knew it I was here. I don’t want to speak to her that way and I don’t want to see her that way again and I don’t want to—”

You fell into Amy’s waiting arms as you broke, repeating “I don’t want to” until it turned into mumbled sounds mixed in with your sobbing. Jake quickly came around to close the door, putting the flowers you dropped off to the side before sandwiching you into a hug from the other side.

After you’d finally calmed down enough to breathe the three of you moved over to the couch, sitting in silence until you were ready to share what was on your mind. You held the bouquet in your arms once more, cradling it to your chest with one arm while you organized your thoughts.

“I didn’t even get to call her my wife for a year before she was gone.”

Amy shifted her teary gaze to you, placing a hand on your free one with a gentle touch. Jake sat on the other side of you, listening while trying to get a hold of his own emotions.

“We’ll never get to celebrate one year, five, ten, fifty. I wanted all of that time with her and it was stolen from me so easily.”

“Why don’t you write her a letter?” Jake suggested quietly. “When my grandma passed, Gina and I wrote letters to thank her for everything she did for us, and basically say anything we didn’t get to say before she went. I actually, um...I actually wrote one to Rosa the other day.”

Your eyes watered as you turned to him, a tear dropping as you addressed him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, brows pressed together in confusion.

“I’ve been so lost in my own grieving that I forgot you lost someone too.” You turned to Amy. “Both of you have.”

“Y/N,” Jake placed his hand on your shoulder, offering you a sad smile. “Yes we all lost her, but she meant something different to each of us. We can’t always relate to each other’s pain with this because it’s different for all of us, and it’s not selfish to take the time to focus on working through what you feel.”

You returned his sad smile with a little more hope behind yours, placing the flowers on the table in front of you and grabbing both of their hands.

“I love you guys. Thanks for always being there for me.”

Amy chuckled a bit, squeezing your hand between both of hers. “It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

You’d barely been home from Jake and Amy’s apartment five minutes before there was a knock on your door. You opened it and a grin appeared on your face at the sight of Terry and the twins.

“Hi, Auntie Y/N!”

“Hi, sweet angels!” you greeted them as you pulled them into a group hug. “Hey, Sarge. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just picked the girls up from a playdate and I needed to bring you this.” He handed you a plastic bag that you instantly recognized.

“Is this the—”

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “I was going through the case file and realized this was still in evidence. I was able to sign it out because it had no relation to anything, and based on what today is, you may need it.”

“Daddy let us put something in there for you, too!”

“Yeah! It’s an invitation to dinner tomorrow and your favorite cookies,” Cagney added, her eyes suddenly widening. “Sorry, that was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It’s okay, Cagney,” Terry assured her with a pat on the shoulder before turning back to you. “Are you going to be okay? We would love to have you tonight, too.”

“I’ll be fine, and I’ll be there tomorrow. Thanks for the gift, angels,” you addressed the twins as you hugged them one last time.

You took your time opening the bag once you were alone, setting the card and cookies to the side and using your shaking hands to sift through the rest of the items. Underneath things like toothpaste and deodorant sat a little booklet titled “First Year of Many��.

You took a deep breath and opened it to a page with a handwritten note, handwriting you knew to be Rosa’s. Blinking back a few tears, you stroked your finger along the page carefully before finally reading her last words to you.

“Y/N Diaz, I love you. I was going to stop there, but I know you love it when I get mushy or whatever. So I’ll add that this has been the best (almost) year of my life. Being your wife and having you as mine is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, especially after the horrors of coming out to my parents and being framed. You’re my favorite person in the world, and I can’t wait to celebrate our wedding day every year for the rest of our lives.”

By the end of the note you were sobbing again, and you had to take a few moments to breathe before you could move onto the pictures. Each one was from different days in the past year starting with your wedding day, and you admire her beauty through nonstop tears. Some were taken on special events like birthdays, with or without friends, and others were simply selfies from lazy days where you fell asleep before she did.

You closed the book and took the bag in your bedroom, setting the book on your bedside table to look at again later and placing the other items in the bathroom. You grabbed your phone and sat on the couch, dialing Rosa’s number and trying not to cry again when you heard her voice for the first time in months.

“Rosa Diaz’s phone. Leave a message or don’t.”

“Hey, baby. Um, happy anniversary. I really liked your present, by the way. Nowhere near as good as what I was going to get you.” You laughed a bit, sounding somewhat pathetic mixed in with sniffles.

“I miss you so fucking much. I miss your voice, your snorting laugh, riding on the back of your motorcycle, and cuddling morning, afternoon and night. I’ve never known pain like this before and I never want to again.”

A couple seconds of silence passed before you started again.

“I hope you’re safe and happy wherever you are. I hope you have unlimited axes to throw, and the Nancy Meyers movies are easily accessible. Most importantly, I hope you don’t miss me as much as I miss you because this really fucking hurts. Arlo and I feel like an incomplete puzzle without you. Anyway, I love you and—”

The automated voice cuts you off and you hang up instantly, not needing another reminder that you’ve run out of time to talk to Rosa. Part of you felt lighter after spilling your thoughts out to her, even if she couldn’t hear them. You smiled as Arlo padded sleepily into the room and climbed onto the couch to lie next to you, resting his head on your thigh. You thought back to Rosa’s vows, realizing that her wish of building a home with you had been granted.

You just wish she’d gotten the chance to live in it a little longer.

Tags: @creepingwolfberry @rosadiazswifey @milkfromhell @marie-03 @jay-is-groovy @gaulty74 @xetherealbeautyx

#to build a home #rosa diaz #rosa diaz x reader #rosa diaz imagine #rosa diaz x fem!reader #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine fic series #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 fic series #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic #b99 #stephanie beatriz

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navigatrixnarrations · 4 years ago

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Sometimes Always Part 3: Thieves Like Us

Part 1

Part 2

The third chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3. In which the past does not stay silent. You may recognize part of it from a Six-Sentence Sunday.

Warnings: brawling, mentions of hanging and gunshots

Word Count: 2231

The two fighters circle each other in their makeshift ring on the docks, stripped to the waist despite the chill night air. In the smoky torchlight, the scene could almost be a pirate camp. Margaret has woven her way to the front of the gathered crowd of bettors. She’s put coin on Vane, partly out of loyalty, partly because she remembers what a magnificent brawler he was. The other fighter is the clear local favorite; unlike Vane, he’s well-known in the area. He’s half a head taller than Vane and outweighs him as well, and he’s fast and strong, but Vane fights with a savage intensity, feral glee in his eyes at the challenge and the rush of it. And his technique and tactics are far better. Vane dodges the lighting-fast combination of punches thrown at him, getting in close to land blows of his own. It isn’t long before Vane’s ferocious onslaught has the other fighter down for the count. Yes, Vane is still magnificent, standing victorious in the center of the ring, sweat gleaming on his broad chest, long hair barely mussed, breath steaming in the cold. His piercing blue stare meets hers, and Margaret feels her pulse quicken. How does the bloody man manage to swagger while standing still?

Beside her, the merchant who’d been trying to chat her up during the fight notices the heavy look she and Vane are exchanging. He mumbles an excuse about how he “didn’t realize you were here to watch your man”, and hurries away as Vane approaches.

My man, Margaret thinks sourly. No, her man had brown eyes and a broad, easy grin. Her man never let anyone or anything come between them. Her man is at the bottom of the sea.

After Sully died, would-be suitors circled her like sharks. Most simply wanted an in with her father. Some were other pirates. Some were so-called respectable men, with their soft hands and their willingness to let others do their dirty work. She chased them all off with sharp words, and on at least one occasion, at the point of a pistol.

“Your friend didn’t want to meet me?” Vane’s raspy growl brings her back to the present.

“Alas, he wasn’t the sociable type.”

“Pity.” Vane’s right arm tremors ever so slightly as he puts on his shirt, and Margaret finds herself grateful that he’s left-handed. She assists him into his coat, briskly, before he can object. Back in Nassau, it took her too long to get a clear shot as Vane’s face turned purple and his body convulsed at the end of the rope. She prays to a god she is not entirely sure she believes in, for reasons she is entirely unwilling to name, that the delay didn’t cause him permanent injury.

They collect their respective winnings and make their way to a nearby tavern, less rowdy than some and known for its food and its anonymity. Margaret forces herself not to react when her leg brushes against his under the table.

“Do you think it’s wise, drawing attention to yourself like you did prize-fighting?”

“Hiding in plain sight.” The corner of Vane’s mouth quirks upward. “And you wagered on me.”

Margaret gives him an extravagant shrug. “Of course I did. I’m a chancer.”

“Ever the proper pirate.” There is nothing mocking in his tone or his face.

“These past couple of years, smuggling is where most of the work has been.”

“You mean after Sully…”

She cuts him off. “Yes.” She wants to snarl at him to keep Sully’s name out of his mouth, but there was a time when Vane and Sully called each other brother and meant it. She can’t begrudge him any grief he might be feeling, nor curiosity.

He raises his mug of ale to hers. “To Sully. And to thieves like us.” They both drink deep.

Their food arrives. Vane examines the bread that came with their oyster stew. “They’ve picked off all the weevils.”

Margaret smiles slightly, in spite of herself. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” An old joke. It’s all too easy to fall into old jokes. Margaret had extra duty once again for mouthing off at her father, and she was missing her meal because of it. She sat on the fighting top watching for sails, too proud to admit hunger or apologize, and Charles climbed up to bring her water ration, some dried meat, and some hard tack, though he’d have gotten in trouble himself if the captain caught him. She picked up a piece of the hard tack and examined it. “You picked off all the weevils.”

He gave her a cheeky grin. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” She started to laugh, but forced herself to be silent lest the sound draw attention to them, to the fact that he’d bent the rules for her. That bastard of a quartermaster, Israel Hands, already had it out for the both of them. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him to have another go at Charles.

She tells herself there’s no harm in reminiscing about the boy he was, with his rough voice and his rough demeanor and his tender heart that he tried so hard to hide.

That rough voice is quiet, even confessional. “All my life, there were consequences for wanting things. The taskmasters would take anything they thought we wanted, just to show us that they could. The bigger slaves would take from the smaller, and I was the youngest and smallest of all. So I learned it was safer not to tell, not to show, if I was to have any chance of keeping anything I wanted.” Vane almost sounds as though he’s thinking aloud, but he’s watching her face intently as though willing her to understand something he can’t quite bring himself to say. “Then she did more of the same, taking away anything she even thought I might want, just to prove she could.” There is no doubt as to who she is. Is Vane expressing regret? Trying to explain?

“There are also consequences for not asking for what you want.” She meant to sound arch, but it comes out harsh.

He looks down for a moment then fixes Margaret with a grave stare from beneath his brow. “So I’ve learned.”

The silence hangs thick as a fog bank. Margaret focuses on finishing her meal; it’s easier than focusing on the man across from her.

“I’m sailing for Nassau. Come with me.”

Margaret looked askance at her father. “Why would you ever want to return to that shithole? It’s nothing but backstabbers and cowards.”

“To get Charles out of there. They put a price on his head” he replied.

“He made his choices. He can live with them. Or die with them.” Margaret wanted to sound cold, wanted to be cold, but the ice in her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her ears. Why should the very thought of Charles still have the power to wound her like this, a decade later? What had ever been between them other than a few kisses, some confidences shared?

“I could use your skills, Margaret.”

“Yes, you could. But you’ll have to do without.”

He looks up from the brace of pistols he’s loading. “You think admitting you still care for him would be disloyal to Sully.” When she didn’t answer he continued. “Margaret, when your mother died I was ill-equipped to raise a daughter. You were so young and so angry, and her loss annihilated us both. All those wives, I was trying to replace what couldn’t be replaced. What I had with her.”

“All those wives were because you wanted a son.” This time he didn’t respond. “I’m glad you don’t further insult me by denying it,” she said grimly.

His nostrils flared but his voice stayed calm. Overly calm. “I loved your mother. I still love your mother. I’ve loved some of my other wives, each in different ways.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s possible for you to still love Sully and for that to be irreplaceable, and for you to love Charles as well.” He paused. “I must say I was surprised you didn’t choose him back then.”

“It wasn’t up to me,” she snapped. Damnation, he got her to admit it. If Charles had asked her to be with him, she would have said yes, without hesitation and without regret. But he didn’t, and Sully did. It was a good marriage, a happy one, right until the moment his brain ran out on the deck beside her.

“Will you be here when I return?”

“I’ll be here. But I don’t want to see him.” She turned to leave.

From behind her, her father's voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I wish you’d reconsider, for your own sake.” She left. The notorious Blackbeard, suddenly worried about her loneliness? This must be what going mad feels like.

“And people say I’m terse.” Vane’s teasing purr interrupts her thoughts. He’s trying to lift the pall that’s fallen between them.

Margaret risks a glance at his face. “I’ve been alone for a few years now. I’ve grown accustomed to it.” She drains the rest of her ale and slaps the mug down on the table.

“Surely you’ve no shortage of contenders.” His voice is still as light as the gravel in it allows, but his eyes remain serious.

“Perhaps.” A few days ago, she’d have said not a chance. Damn him. She sees him grit his teeth, the muscle flexing in his jaw. She stands. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He puts coins on the table and follows her. Outside, the clouds hang low and there is a sharp bite in the air. Snow is on the way.

She leads him to the back of the town, where the docks are even rougher and the respectable trades do well to avoid. To call the place a shipyard would be to flatter it, but it’s a yard and series of wharves where vessels of various types and in various states of repair are moored. She takes him to a sleek eight-gun sloop, built for speed and maneuverability, sitting in what might generously be termed dry dock. Recognition dawns on his face. “I haven’t seen a sloop like her since the last time I was on Ocracoke. Is that --”

Margaret completes his sentence. “The Adventure, yes. The old girl took a beating, but she’ll be seaworthy again soon enough.” At his look of consternation, she adds “Yes, I was on Ocracoke.”

He furrows his brows. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Take him, and get the fuck off my beach,” her father snarled. Turning to Margaret, who had witnessed the entire duel while hidden in the crowd, had started pushing her way to the front and was readying herself to throw her body between them before Charles threw down his sword, “Go after him, girl. Keep him alive.” At her dubious expression, he leaned in to add “Promise me you’ll try!” She nodded. By day’s end, she was sailing for Nassau. The Adventure was fast, but she arrived too late to prevent Charles’s capture…

“When she’s repaired,” he starts, then stops, his face a question.

“When she’s repaired, I intend to leave on her. No idea where the fuck I’ll go.” She looks away from him, studying the currents, weighing something in her mind, then turns to face him head-on. “Come with me?”

Vane’s thin lips part in surprise, and Margaret braces for the impact of his answer. He regains a grip on his composure, and smirks. “How am I expected to deny such a request.”

Margaret cocks one hip out, puts a hand on it, raises an eyebrow. “You’re not.”

They grin at each other as the first flakes begin to fall. Side by side, they make their way back to the garret.

Vane stands with one arm braced against the window frame, still in his coat, watching the snow dance and swirl beyond the panes. Maragaret finds herself touched by his expression of wonder. He’s always been gruff, his default expression becoming even stonier in the years since she’d last seen him. Seeing him wide-eyed and earnest soothes something in her. He’s still there, the Charles she was once so close with.

He stretches out an arm to enfold her in the coat as well, pulling her close. She leans into him, if only to savor his warmth. She still fits as though she belongs there, tucked beneath his arm.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” he admits. So many firsts with her. First taste of freedom. First time over the side. First kiss, clumsy and nervous and sweet as could be. And now, snow.

His hand comes to rest at the spot where the musket ball ripped through her side all those years ago. “Margaret, I…” he breaks off.

Her voice is soft. Matter-of fact, but soft. “I’d do it again if I had to. Even now, after everything, I’d do it again.” She extricates herself from under his arm, then pauses to press her lips to his temple. “Good night, Charles.”

Her door shuts. He takes a deep, unsteady breath and wills his heart to slow its breakneck pace. On the other side of the door, she does the same.

#sometimes always fic #charles vane fic #black sails fanfiction #black sails fic #charles vane x oc

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nessabear05 · 4 years ago

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Birthday Wishes for the Dead- A HarringSmith OneShot

I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock blaring on my bedside table, how the day always started…except today the alarm was for a different reason besides work. And honestly, I had mixed emotions about said reason. As I sat up, a small groan fell from my lips as I stretched my arm out to press the stop button on the damned thing, just wanting it to shut up. I felt shuffling beside me and looked over with a smile, watching as my boyfriend sat up beside me, running a hand through his brown hair and looking over at me with that dazzling smile of his. Even after all of these years, Steve Harrington still had that same effect on making my heart race every time I saw him.

We had met in high school, I was a Sophomore and he was a Junior, but somehow...we had clicked the instant we met. And eventually, he had asked me out a couple months into our friendship. Of course I said yes, who the hell would turn down a chance to be with Steve Harrington? Especially a loser like me of all people, with how tired I always was because of my insomnia and my constant messy brown hair hidden under a gray beanie, normally that I didn’t wear now that I was in my early twenties. Somehow out of all the people he could have had, he chose me to be with, and I honestly couldn’t be happier. We were now both done with college, me now going to school to be a surgeon, and him a childcare worker. We lived in a pretty nice apartment for two adults, with one still in medical school.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by arms being wrapped around me in a hug, pulling me closer to his chest until my head rested against it, my eyes shutting as I listened to his heartbeat. He knew how hard this day was for me....he didn’t know how hard it was losing a parent, but he could empathize with me and comfort me. It was my mother’s birthday...and it was always hard for both my dad and I. But now, with my dad living in a retirement home, it was even harder since I didn’t get to see him all that often. But Steve normally made it all better.

Every year on my mom’s birthday, I would go and visit her grave where she was buried, and normally I went alone. I didn’t like Steve seeing me cry...so I never asked him if he wanted to go, but this year he asked me to do things a little differently, wanting to come along. And me being me, not being able to say no to my adorable boyfriend, said he could come along. It was never super eventful whenever I went to visit my mom, just me talking to her about things going on into my life, hoping that she could hear me. I didn’t have an opinion on whether or not spirits exist, but if they did I hoped she was always there watching me.

Steve and I stayed cuddled together for a while, not saying a word to one another as he ran a hand through my messy brown locks,” I love you…” he suddenly whispered, pressing a kiss into my hair and hugging me a little tighter than normal. And I just looked up at him, leaning up and kissing him softly. I didn’t want to speak, not trusting myself to be able to hold myself together in front of him after he was being so damn sweet to me. And he obviously kissed back, taking that as a sign of ‘I love you too’. Which is exactly what it meant.

Once we were done with our little comfort session, we both got up to go take showers and get ready. I went first, since despite my love for the man, it annoyed me when he took so long in the damn shower, but he always came out looking cute as hell, so I guess he made up for it in the end when it came down to it. It took a couple hours, maybe two and a half for the both of us to be dressed and ready to go. I was wearing one of his hoodies, it being a little bit big on me and some jeans. Nothing too special, but nothing that would make me look like a homeless person.

While I was fixing my hair in the mirror, Steve came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me closer to him and nuzzling his face into my shoulder. I couldn’t help but smile, leaning back into the male’s chest,” Hey…” I said softly, the first thing I had said this morning since we woke up. “Good morning my love…” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss against my cheek, and it made my heart soar. He always made me so happy.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, pulling away from me after one more kiss against my face, and I nodded. “Yeah....I’ll drive,” I told him, grabbing his hand gently and tugging him towards the door, grabbing the keys off the little table before making my way out to the car, Steve in tow. As I opened the driver’s side door, I tried to mentally prepare myself. It always took me a while to build up the courage to go see my mom. I still hadn’t told Steve how she died...all he knew was that she was dead, had been since I was about three.

As I got inside and turned the car on, I turned on the heat as we drove off. On our way there, it started to rain, nothing huge, just a small drizzle, nothing that I hadn’t gone to visit her in before. In fact, it always seemed like it rained on her birthday...kind of reflected how I always felt about the day. As I was driving, one hand on the wheel and the other rested beside me, I felt Steve gently grab my hand, giving it a small squeeze in reassurance, and I visibly relaxed...jeez my mom would have loved to have Steve around. He was just such a sweet guy, and he made me feel complete.

As we pulled up on the side of the road outside the cemetery, I took a second to compose myself as I shut the car off, grabbing Steve’s hand in a tight grip and looking out at the many graves. I could clearly see my mom’s grave from the car, the bright blue forget-me-nots I had set there a couple days ago on my way home from school still standing out amongst most of the dead or red ones. But I always figured forget-me-nots suited the best for dead people.

It took a minute for me to compose myself before I opened up the door, stepping out and walking over to Steve, who was not standing at the passenger side door. He reached out to grab my hand in his, slowly leading me over to the gates of the cemetery. They were open, not having closed yet as it was still pretty early morning.

Steve had me lead him over to my mom’s grave, both of us looking at in silence before I made the first move, kneeling down beside the marble, and resting a hand on it,” Hey mom….me again. I uh...brought Steve this time, he wanted to come see you. He’s pretty cute huh? Just like I told you,” I said, laughing a little at my own joke as I looked over at my boyfriend, who was just looking at me with a small smile on his face.

I turned back to the stone, sighing softly,” I miss you....nut you probably already know that with the amount of times I come to visit you. Um...dad is doing good, he likes the retirement home I put him in..I wish he could live with Steve and I but for now we just don’t have the space or the time to be with him all the time. Maybe once we get a better place...I can take him home, but….for now he’s gonna have to stick with the home..” I muttered softly, feeling a couple tears well up in my eyes as I looked down at the patch of grass underneath me. And I felt Steve slowly wrap an arm around me, pulling me close to his side.

I thought we would sit in silence for a bit, but Steve started to talk to my mom...and honestly it was the sweetest thing I had ever seen him do,” Mrs. Smith...nice to meet you, well unofficially I guess. I’ve seen pictures of you but….that’s about it. Quentin’s dad told me a lot about you too...how Quentin was almost a guy version of you...thanks for that by the way, you made a pretty damn cute son,” he said with a small grin. Of course he still had to be a flatterer when it came to talking to well...a dead person.

“I just....I was gonna wait a little bit for this but….Quentin’s dad told me all about how you wanted Quentin to grow up happy...be with someone who loves him and have a happy marriage. And well...we don’t plan on starting a family for a while...but I well...I was gonna wait to do this for a little while but I guess now is a good time...here in front of you…” he said softly, turning to face me. I already had a couple tears rolling down my face that he reached up to wipe away, pressing a kiss against my cheek gently.

“Quen...I love you, I really do. You literally make me so happy I can’t even describe it....and I was gonna wait a little while to do this, but then you reminded me that your mom’s birthday was coming up in a bit....well, I wanted to do it in front of her,” he said with a small smile, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull something out. And my eyes widened as he pulled out a little black, velvet box. Was this really happening? Right now? Well, Steve did always have a flare for the dramatics. “Quentin...we’ve been together for almost seven years now....and well, we’ve been living together for around three of those years. I mean we’re basically married already...but I couldn’t wait any longer. I want it to be official with a little band on your finger showing that you’re mine. So, baby will you marry me?” he asked softly, opening up the ring box and holding it out to me.

If I wasn’t crying before, I definitely was now. All I could do was nod my head and smile like an idiot through the tears as he slipped the little silver band on my hand, grabbing me and pulling me close for a hug. “I love you…I love you so much…” he told me quietly, tilting my head up to kiss me. And I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck. I felt the rain slowly stop, a slight bit of sunlight shining down now as we pulled away. “I love you too,” I told him as our lips parted, a bright smile still on my face like earlier.

I felt the wind blow through my hair as I sat in my boyfri- fiancé’s arms. And for once on this day, unlike every year, I felt happy. I felt like I was on top of the world...and Steve was right here with me. My mom would have been so happy had she been here right now...and honestly I felt like she was, smiling down at us. She had always wanted me to be happy...so I guess you could think of it as her final wish...and I was the one to fulfill it…

Happy Birthday to you Mom….

#harringsmith #quentin smith #steve harrington #nightmare on elm street #stranger things #dead by daylight #dbd ships #dbd #dbd quentin #dbd steve #romance #oneshot #marriage #proposal #sad #sad boy

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thesolitarystripe · 3 years ago

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Edna Briggs-Writing Prompt # I’ve Lost Cont

Today's entry was suggested by my best friend, Chenoa. This entire premise was hers and despite my encouragement that she write it; she did not feel like she could. So, I told her I would write it for her. I hope this is what she envisioned, equal parts sad and wholesome.

Enjoy my dearest!

“How long will it be tomorrow, Edna?”

“Sixty-five years.”

“Sixty-five. That’s right…”

The man knew very well how many years it would be that he and his wife would celebrate their marriage. Sixty-five years, tomorrow. Wrinkled hands found more delicate ones, pallid and cool to the touch.

“You still…can’t remember.” There was a weak puff of laughter as Edna turned her head and regarded her husband warmly.

“That’s why I need you here Edna,” at this, the man’s voice cracked with the tightness that formed in his throat. “I’ll never even remember to feed myself.” The pair chuckled softly. Edna patted the top of her husband’s hands.

“Yes, you will Jim.”

That was all she said as she smiled through brimming tears. Edna laid in the comfort of a hospital bed within her own home, in her living room, to be exact. The couple had a large family, and their bedroom was so small that Jim barely fit inside next to both the new and old beds. So, their five children deemed it necessary to move Edna into the main room so that they all could sit beside her—them and their ten grandchildren. It had been two years now that Edna was on hospice and an amazing feat considering the doctors thought she would pass on within the first six months. Edna clung to life the way she held fast to Jim’s hand, with nothing but love and enthusiasm. It was noticeable now, perhaps only to Jim, that Edna’s fingers did not grab hold so hard. In the slipping of her fingers, he felt the waning of her soul and it brought his head down upon her chest as she breathed in and out. So long as he could hear that thrum of her heart, he would know peace. Into the early morning hours, they whispered between them of all life had brought. They shared tender kisses and caresses that Jim desperately fought to commit to memory. Each tickle of her fingers at the back of his neck was etched into his bones and stored away in every fiber of his muscles. Jim would not forget. Somehow, Jim fell asleep. A grown man of ninety-five laid on his wife’s chest, back hunched forward and his arms draped over her; one behind her head and the other over her thighs. Jim fell asleep. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the look of absolute tranquility upon Edna’s beautiful features. Without moving, speaking, or thinking, Jim knew. Edna was no longer on this plane but, she had made it to midnight. They celebrated their sixty-fifth anniversary in the darkness of their living room.

The days that passed next were a blur. Perhaps one day, Jim would come to and the memories of Edna’s memorial service, her funeral, the crowds of people that came to honor her memory; maybe he would recall it. Today, he sat silently in his living room, the vacant hospital bed beside him. A few of his children were bustling in the kitchen, cooking, and making sure Jim had easy options for food because the man was proficient with a grill and that was about it.

“Papa, we cut up some fresh fruit it’s in the fridge. Make sure you eat it up, so it doesn’t go bad.” Jim’s oldest granddaughter was talking to him, but Jim was in his cushioned armchair, staring out the sliding glass door that led to their patio. All of Edna’s flowers popped vibrantly against the emerald hues of their meticulously watered grass. Jim wondered if it would all die within a few short hours once the little garden realized its tender was gone. That was good, appropriate, even. The flowers should no longer grow if Edna did not keep them; just as the sun should not rise or fall so long as Edna’s chest was still. Jim looked up at the blinding rays of the celestial body. It seemed he had not yet convinced the star to cease its normal cycle because how could life possibly go on without Edna Briggs. How, could it.

Eventually, Jim’s children and grandchildren left. He was sure it was not an easy choice for them. While he was absentminded and aloof, it did not go unnoticed the way they lingered in the doorway or how they looked at him with concern in their eyes. Jim waved them off with a brave little smile. Then they were gone, and the house was horribly quiet. There was no talk of the gossip at Bingo, no asking what time ‘Jeopardy’ would be on even though it came on every night at the same time; there was a lingering aroma of food, but it was not Edna’s cooking. Jim sat in his armchair. Jim stewed in the silence and looked out the back door until the light dissolved and nighttime fell. This was how he passed most of his days for a week. People called; he did not answer. The only communication he managed was a short text asking his children not to come—he needed time. Jim ate halfheartedly but per his granddaughter’s wishes, he did not let the fruit go bad. She had worked so hard, after all. It was on the sixth night that Jim finally turned on the television. There had been no sound for so long that it almost felt like an intrusion to hear the people in the commercials talking. He left it on and eventually, he fell asleep in his chair with one hand resting on the end of the hospital bed. That was how they had gone to bed many times over the last two years.

Jim was snoring for several hours when a sound finally woke him from his dreamless stasis. It was not the incessant dinging of bells on whatever game show had just come on—he had slept through that many times. There was a clink in the kitchen. Jim and Edna had no pets and had lived alone for a number of years after their children grew up. In Jim’s mind, there was no reason for any part of their home to be making noise unless someone else was in it. As that thought occurred to him, Jim grew very still, eyes wide open and desperately peering through the darkness. Jim had never felt scared but as he sat, totally alone, he felt that sick heat creep into his belly and spread like fire through his veins. The man was paralyzed in his chair, sinking deeper and deeper each time he heard that clinking noise. It was different and seemed to be moving around the kitchen. There was a certain tone of the porcelain in the sink when it was hit; it was very different from the sound that was produced when the marble countertops were bumped or the wooden cabinets. From what he could hear, it sounded like someone was cooking a full meal inside his kitchen. Jim’s jaw clenched. This was silly. The man, finding all the courage of his younger years rolled to his feet and turned to look back. The kitchen was in full view from the living room, there were no walls separating the adjoined spaces. So, when he looked, there was no mistaking what he saw. There was nothing to block him and his glasses were poised on the bridge of his long nose. Jim’s jaw went slack, and he was certain he was either dead or on his way to the grave.

“Edna, what in the hell are you doing?” The little old lady looked exactly the way Jim had last seen her save for the color in her cheeks. That ever-present vibrancy that Edna had when she was alive, her youthful glow, it had returned with a new fullness.

“Well excuse me, Jim, I’m making your late-night snack like I always do. I am more than happy to stop if you’re going to take that attitude with me.” Jim stared. Jim stared for a long time, so long that Edna rolled her eyes. “Tuna fish and saltine crackers, it’s your favorite.” A small plate plopped onto the counter and slid toward Jim. The man looked down for a moment but immediately brought his gaze back to Edna for fear she might vanish.

“Honey, I don’t know how to tell you this but—”

“I’m dead! I know that Jim, I’m not stupid. Someone’s got to come along and take care of you. You said it yourself a week ago, you’ll forget to eat. Then what? Then I have to spend eternity with you too?” Edna smiled after that. It was full of knowingness and patience because she was, indeed, fully aware of her circumstances.

“The—the…the grandkids…they left some food—Edna! How…” Jim was taking cautious steps forward and he found himself vaguely wondering if there was some sort of technology, he wasn’t aware of that could project life-like images of loved ones into your home. Was this some sort of invention created for coping with loss? Jim’s brown eyes did a quick scan of the kitchen. He saw no indication of a projector. There was nothing out of place in his old kitchen, except for a perfectly intact Edna standing in the middle of it.

“Simple. I didn’t want to leave,” Edna shrugged and gave the plate another inch toward Jim. The man had approached and was well within range of the plate now. He looked at Edna incredulously before he swooped in and wrapped his arms around her. She was whole and smelled like his favorite perfume; she had worn it every day since they had met. Jim wasn’t fully aware of it, but he was weeping. Into the meticulously done curls that framed Edna’s head and neck. That familiar tickle of her fingers at the nape of his neck only made him cry harder because his memory had failed him. In the short time away from his wife, Jim had already forgotten what the scrape of her nails felt like on his skin. Edna embraced her husband in the kitchen, endlessly. Only when he was ready to lift his head did she take a small step back and smile up at him. “They really should change that whole ‘till death do us part' bit. It doesn’t have to end there, not if you don’t want it to.” Jim laughed. For the first time in a week, he was smiling, and it felt like rust was crumbling off all the unused facial muscles.

“Well…what do we do?”

“What do we do? Jim I’m going to sit down and watch my shows, it’s only ten-thirty. Now eat!” Jim was given the plate of crackers. He tested its weight; he poked the bottom of it to see if his finger would go through. It didn’t. Finally, he ate a cracker with a scoop of Edna’s infamous tuna salad, and it tasted like home. Jim was not sure if he was crazy or if the Lord had bestowed a miraculous blessing upon him but, he would not question the extra time. Quickly, he shuffled after Edna who was crawling into the hospital bed already glued to the television. Jim sat in his armchair munching and constantly glancing over at Edna to make sure she didn’t get swept away into the ethers.

This was how life went on. Learning the extent of Edna’s abilities happened quickly. Jim soon learned that his children nor his grands could see her despite her standing in the foyer to greet them alongside her husband. No one else saw Edna. She did, one time, touch a dishrag without thinking and when it moved on its own their eldest son yelped and jumped away from it. Jim quickly offered up that it was simply the wind from the open window in the kitchen. Luckily, that was all it took to convince his son that there were no ghosts in the house. All the while, Jim looked at Edna who had her little hand over her mouth, giggling. Edna got to enjoy her family from a distance, something that both made her happy and hurt her. Jim could see the longing in her eyes as Edna sank to the floor to sit by their grandchildren who played, oblivious that grandma was right beside them. There was much that Jim found cruel about Edna’s current existence. While she cooked and cleaned and took care of Jim as well as she had in her living days—she could not enjoy the material things of the mortal world. Edna could watch television, listen to music, and sit beside Jim while holding his hand. She did not get to taste food or hug her kids; she did not have the luxury of soothing her grandbabies or walking outside. Edna had tried to leave the house multiple times, only to tend to her garden but every door in the home seemed to be a wall. Edna could not leave. The pair existed within the living room and kitchen. Eating and watching television. This was their new routine. Edna did not sleep; she didn’t need to. She would stay up and watch Jim, hold his hand, pet his hair; anything to keep her busy through the hours he was not conscious of her. As the months passed, Jim watched these realities affect her though Edna never complained.

One evening, the couple sat watching another ‘Jeopardy’ rerun. They chuckled a little here and there. Edna had made Jim a small platter of cut up meat, cheese, and crackers. She was always feeding him much to his family’s approval—they had predicted Jim would lose weight in the following months after Edna’s passing. They had no idea she still wandered through the home.

“Edna.”

“Yes, dear?”

“How long are you going to stay?”

“That’s a funny question. Funny, because the answer is obvious, isn’t it?” Jim looked at her with a blank expression. “I’m staying until it’s your time.”

“Do you know when that is?”

“No. That’s none of my business, even as a ghost.”

“It could be years.”

“It could be.”

“My grandfather and my father lived past one hundred.”

“Yes, yes, you have good genes. I know.” Edna said it with an air of annoyance like they had this discussion many times over when she was alive.

“My point is, you could be doing this for five more years if not more.”

“You could also die tomorrow,” she quipped.

“Are you going to live every day hoping I die tomorrow?” At this, Edna laughed and shook her head.

“No. Of course not Jim, I want you to enjoy every second of life. Watch the babies grow, watch our bigger babies grow even more. Feel the sun on your face. Tend to my flowers. Eat good food.”

“And what about you?” Jim was very serious, and the tone of his voice had changed from amiable and inquisitive to firm.

“What about me?”

“I suppose you think it’s fine for you to keep on living in this undead existence. Where you get to experience none of the pleasures you just listed off for me.”

“I get to be with my husband. That is the greatest pleasure.”

“Is it, Edna? I see how much you want to hold those grandbabies. The look on your face while I’m eating something you’ve made but you can’t even taste it. Is this really existing at all?” Edna looked at Jim. There was a long discussion had between them, without words. Jim’s eyes were glossy in the way that spoke of tears unarrived but waiting in the trenches. The line of his mouth was hard set and that horrible lump in his throat was thicker than before. It had taken him months to realize it; to see the selfishness of what he did. Jim kept Edna here. It was a blatant fact. No one else could see her, they had accepted her death and let her spirit soar free. Jim did not. Jim carried the burden of damning his wife to this listless life as a specter when she was deserving of so much more. “Edna, you have done what you needed to in this life, tenfold. You raised a beautiful family, we did, together but we both know who did most of the work. I am not blind to that. You have been an excellent grandmother to those babies, and they will grow up to know unconditional love and how to bake the best pies for Christmas. You took care of me, God, you still are! Even in death. This is not your eternal rest, Edna. This is not the peace you have earned after such a full life. It was full, wasn’t it?”

Edna sat on the edge of the hospital bed, legs dangling, hands folded in her lap as she faced Jim. Tears streamed down her face. The weight of this new existence was taxing and harder than she imagined. Participating in life from the sidelines. Watching but not doing. Living but not living at all. “It was very full, Jim. The best life I could have ever wanted and then some.” Edna’s petite shoulders shook with sobs and Jim rose and sat beside her on the bed; he encircled her in his arms and pressed his face against her neck.

“I love you Edna Briggs, but this is not the existence you were meant to have. It is time for me to let you go,” he whispered. Jim breathed in as deeply as he could. Memorizing every dip and curve of her body as if he had not already done that over the last sixty-five years. The smell of her perfume. The smoothness of her skin. The sound of her breath as she wept. These were all important pieces of information, things he would store away and remember on days when he missed her. Every day. Jim would remember it every day. Jim and Edna wept together, just as they had the night she passed. They squeezed one another and eventually fell back on the bed. Jim felt sleep tugging at his eyelids, and he knew, deep in his gut, when he woke tomorrow Edna would be gone. “I promise, I’ll see you soon. I love you so much. You have been the most amazing wife a man could ever ask for.” Jim’s hands were in those bouncy curls, fingers wrapped around Edna’s skull as he touched their foreheads together. “I won’t last long without my other half, but I’ll make sure the grandbabies are skilled pie bakers before I go.” They laughed. The room was quiet except for their sniffling. “It’s okay to go, I love you.” Edna kissed her husband’s face, his forehead, and lips. Edna fell asleep. Finally. She had not realized just how tired her soul was until her eyes closed and she drifted off into the most peaceful slumber within her husband’s arms.

When Jim woke the next morning, he was alone, as expected. Despite the hole he felt in half of his heart, Jim smiled. Edna was finally at peace and that alone brought him more joy than anything else.

#creative writing #OC #writing prompt #My writing #thesolitarystripe #romance #wholesome #writing #tw death #tw natural death #writers on tumblr

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the-jade-cross · 4 years ago

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Knight of the Forest - Chapter IX

From where she stood perched on the seamstress’s little crate box, Lillia felt like she was on a pedestal and it frightened her. In a few days she would be standing before the whole court swearing her love and Fidelity to the man of her dreams and she was positive that she would mess up, skip a word or worse, drop something! Wouldn't it be terrible if she tripped over her gown as ser Jaime escorted her to the altar?

Lillia cringed at the thought. At least the wedding ceremony would only be an hour long at the most. She would be married to Loras for the rest of her life! How would she be able to even share a meal with him without saying something stupid? She wished she had had longer to get her nerves under control but when Maya and Oberyn announced that they would be having a long engagement, Lillia and Loras's marriage had been moved from three weeks to three days in the future!

“ you look absolutely stunning my lady,” the seamstress assured her, “ the wedding gown will be ready by tomorrow afternoon! Now for the other dresses.”

Lillia hopped down from the box once the woman finished measuring her and approached the table where the seamstress and her team had drawn up some sketches of different outfits. As was custom, a newlywed bride would be outfitted new gowns for her wedded life but Lillia had somehow managed to swindle Ser Jaime into talking to a few people and instead of thirty separate new outfits, Lillia had managed to only order six. Two everyday dresses, a nightgown, two party dresses and a dress for cold climate.

The girl studied the drawings and she suddenly came to realize why Margaery loved dressing people up against their will. Every one of the dresses were unique in color, design and cut. Lillia knew that Mace Tyrell would be expecting them to be happy in their marriage together even if the love within was one sided and he would expect grandchildren and Lillia knew she would not get pregnant unless she could entice Loras into her bed and what better way to do that than wearing a low cut dress? Or nightgown... But what was the point of an enticing nightgown if Loras was not enticed to join her in her room? So both the nightgown and one of the dresses?

It had better be one of the daily dresses or she would be seen as a regular whore by everyone if she wore a low cut dress to a party. Why was picking outfits out so difficult and trying on the brain!? Finally she snatched up a lovely but simple green dress drawing.

“I like this one.” she told the seamstress.

The woman beamed and went to agree when a third voice cut in and made both Lillia and the seamstress turn. There stood Loras with his arms lazily crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips as he leant against the door frame.

“I rather like the dress you are wearing at the moment.” he said.

Lillia looked down at her attire and blushed Crimson when she realized what she was wearing. The dress was cut so low and fitted so tightly that her breasts were half visible and pushed up so that they were pronounced. The dress ended at her knees revealing her bare legs and feet and the fabric was so thin that you could see the color of her skin!

“ these are my undergarments!” she squeaked at him, crossing her arms over her chest as the seamstress assisted her in pulling on a very thick cotton robe.

Loras his eyes widen in shock before he smirked, doing a ridiculously good job at not appearing flustered or turned on by the rather revealing outfit that his bride to be was garbed in. He walked over to the two women until he was towering over the very flustered Lillia.

“ well, it is nice to know that my future wife has very tempting taste in nightgowns. Madame, be a dear and select the rest of my lady’s outfits based on what you feel she would like. My lady, would you care to join me on a walk?”

Lillia paused and considered her fiance suspiciously for a moment before she grabbed the dress that she had worn earlier that day and dove behind the curtain to change. She emerged a moment later and followed the beaming Loras out of the room period it was a short calm a quiet walk down the corridor to the battlements and Lillia wondered if Loras had just asked her on a walk for the sake of being nice and not because he actually wished to speak with her.

“ I hope you don't mind that once we are married we may have to live in Kings Landing for some time period I am only a knight and third in line for Highgarden. My father assures me that he has a plan but until I discover if his plan actually exists, we will have to live here.”

Lillia nodded, “that sounds reasonable. I have lived here for a few years and so far I have remained sane alive. After all, Evelyn and Ser Jaime lived here together when they were married for a few months and they also managed to share a room without complaint so I feel that we will be able to manage just fine.”

Loras stopped walking and turned to the girl, “do... do you see us ever being like that? I mean... the perfect couple who love each other's company and share bedroom... do you see us like that?”

Lillia tilted her head as she pondered the question before shrugging, “ I like to imagine us like that but I am not sure if it would be the way that we would live. After all, Willas and Garlan complain daily of your snoring habits in their letters and I do happen to have powers of the earth. I may attack you with your breakfast peas in the morning at the table.”

Loras chuckled and smirked, “you know you love me. You would not want your husband dented now would you?”

Lillia's face went grave. A fine time to use a figure of speech that was more real and true than Loras realized. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and began to walk off.

“ do not underestimate my morning grumpy moods.”

Loras trotted over and caught up to the girl before grabbing her arm and turning her to look at him. “Lillia... you are important to me... you always have been and I would like to think that you care something for me too... I truly wish for this marriage to work out not just because it will make our parents happy because I want you to be happy married to me since I know that I will be happy with you as my wife.”

Lillia smiled softly but felt her heart stop period of course he cared about her even if that was the extent of his affections. He would be happy to wed any girl who would feed him, clothe him and bear him children. It just so happened that she was the girl he would be married to and expect those things from. She reached out and left her arm through his.

“ then let us make the most of this marriage and try to make each other happy.” she suggested.

Loras beamed and cradled her hand with his free one period “deal. On the condition that there will be no modeling of vegetables or by vegetables.”

Lillia giggled and found herself beaming, happier than she had been in a very long time... Even if Loras still did not love her back.

******

“My lady,” the maid Maria called, attempting to rouse the heavy sleeper.

Lillia rolled over from where she had been laying out spread like a pancake on her bed. Her hair was sticking out in all places making it look like a beaver had made its home on her scalp. Maria smiled at the girl’s disheveled state before she began opening the drapes and pulling out the things required to prepare the girl for her day.

“You are getting married today my lady!” the girl said, a huge smile lighting up her face as Lillia swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up groggily. “Alice is bringing your wedding dress up in a moment and once you are dressed, we will get your hair styled. What are you considering? Up or down?”

Lillia shrugged as she grabbed her thin lace robe and wrapped it around herself as she yawned, “I am not sure… Marg…Queen Margaery gave me a very detailed explanation of how having your hair up or down can clash with a dress… I am not sure what hairstyle would best suit the gown.”

Maria smiled, “Well then why don’t we get you washed up and we can take the dress to Queen Margaery’s room. That way you can get her opinion and since her chambers are closer to the great hall, you will not have to walk as far in the gown.”

“That sounds perfect,” Lillia stated, beaming at Maria.

About an hour later the girl was wrapped in a thick robe as Maria escorted her down the corridor to Margaery’s room. Tommen had left earlier to discuss the ceremony with Tywin and Cersei and hopefully telling them to not cause a scene. The moment Lillia stepped through the door of the bedroom, Margaery practically threw her into a chair and got Maria and Alice started on doing her hair while Margaery and her handmaiden Rose set about laying out the gown.

“I’m sorry that Maya and Nanteza couldn’t be here for this,” Margaery told the girl when the room became uncommonly silent.

Lillia smiled sadly at her in the mirror as Alice continued to pin up her wild curls. “It’s alright… they had things to do that couldn’t wait.”

After all of her curls were pinned up and out of her face, decorated by beautiful pink peach blossoms from outside Margaery’s bedroom window, the three-woman worked together to slip the gown on from Lillia’s feet up. That is until they realized just how soiled Lillia’s feet were, and they had to take a pitstop to give them a thorough and rather painful scrubbing. After finally getting the dress on and laced up as well as finally finishing buttoning the 200 pearl buttons on the back of the dress, Margaery went digging through her collection of shoes until she found a pair of white sandals. She knew that Lillia hated closed toe shoes as well as heels which ruled out the majority of Margaery’s shoes.

“We should have remembered to tell the seamstress to prepare you shoes as well!” Margaery huffed. “I just forgot because… well…”

“I never wear shoes,” Lillia finished for her.

Margaery chuckled but when she reached into one of her small boxes containing the millions of jewelry pieces she had accumulated, she frowned.

“I can’t find that pin,” she muttered, “You know… the pin you use to help hold two pieces together. It has a needle and then a little cap.”

While Maria and Alice began scouring the whole room for the pin and Rose was trying to keep Margaery from freaking out and bursting into tears, Lillia felt that this was the perfect time to escape the flutter and feathers. After all, she had forgotten her necklace that Jaime had procured for her and she dearly wished to wear it since it would go well with her neckless dress. She trotted down the hallway, the embroidered beads on her long but slender dress tinkling against each other in the absolutely silent corridor. Everyone must be downstairs preparing for the celebration which made the girl both relieved and also terrified.

Lillia paused when she reached her door, hand hovering over the doorhandle. Perhaps if she dropped in and said hello to Loras? She weighed the options. When Lillia had told her mother that it was Northern custom that the groom would not see the bride until she was escorted to the alter since it was bad luck to see the groom or bride on the wedding day, Lysa Arryn had whipped the girl over the knuckles for reading such “trash” and had told her there was no such thing as luck. Lillia pondered whether or not she should hold fast to the custom but decided that since she was definitely in the South, no one would care.

Padding down the hallway in her bare feet, careful as to not trip over the long dress that hugged her curves elegantly, Lillia rapped her knuckles against the door softly. She received no answer so she wondered if Loras was still asleep or perhaps he had already left. Lifting the handle, she poked her head inside.

“Loras?” she called softly.

Lillia heard loud and urgent rustling to her left and she peered around the door, only for her eyes to widen and her hand slip from the handle, allowing the door to swing all the way open. There lying in his bed was Loras, stark naked and at his side… Olyver.

Loras’s eyes were just as wide, if not wider than Lillia’s as he looked upon his bride to be, garbed in creamy white with her curls pulled back neatly to reveal her smooth skin which had suddenly lost all of its usual rosy color. When Loras heard people say that their face “fell”, he had no idea what that necessarily meant until he saw the look on Lillia’s face. It was like her body lost all point of life, her limbs hanging limp, the smile gone from her face but there was no frown there… but disbelief and her eyes no longer were crinkled in joy or pinched in anger… but lax in misery.

“Oh god, Lill…” the man started as he reached for his trousers.

Lillia swung on her heel and surprisingly for a girl in a floor length gown, she was running incredibly fast. When Loras finally managed to get his feet into his trousers and he rushed to the door, there was not a single sign of the girl anywhere. Instead of chasing after her like he knew he should, he went searching for the rest of his clothes and began to snap orders at Olyver to make the bed and make himself scarce.

Meanwhile Lillia tore down the hallway until she reached Margaery’s room and she flew through the door, closing it harshly behind her and leaning against it as her only life support. The three handmaidens and Margaery lifted their heads at the noise but the smiles on their faces melted when they saw the tears streaming down Lillia’s face.

“Oh Lils!” Margaery cried, rushing to the girl’s side and pulling her into a secure hug. “What on earth happened?”

Lillia shook her head and Margaery motioned to the maids to make their exit. Once they were alone, Margaery pulled away and looked Lillia in the eye.

“You need to tell me what happened! Who made you cry?” she insisted.

Lillia sighed shakily as she wiped her face with her bare hands. “If in the next couple of years, your father asks why Loras and I have not had children yet, you have my full permission to tell him that Loras will be banned from my bed chambers until I am 50!”

As Lillia pulled away from Margaery and went hunting in the wash room for some cool water to splash on her face, Margaery groaned. Of all days to mess up Loras, why today? The Tyrell girl stepped out of the bedroom and was just in time to see her beast of a brother running towards her.

“Where is she?” the boy demanded but Margaery crossed her arms over her chest and glared daggers at the lad.

“You’re lucky she didn’t rail you into the ground! You are not allowed to see her until the ceremony and I would not be surprised if she called off the wedding today!”

#got #game of thrones #Jaime Lannister #loras #Loras Tyrell x oc #Loras Tyrell x reader #Loras tyrell

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royalstorm · 4 years ago

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✨ chara. study #1 — keqing & her first kiss .

Keqing had her first and only kiss when she was fourteen.

Picture this: it was a Tuesday night. Her father was out, meeting with Snezhnayan financiers to take shots and talk business. Her mother was two rooms over, gossiping with the wife of another businessman hailing from another prestigious Liyuean family. Based on previous findings — all garnered by way of prompting and eavesdropping — this family was successful, second only to her own flesh and blood. It was likely that her parents wished to forge some sort of partnership with them, hence their rapidly increasing visitations. But for once in her life, Keqing couldn’t care less about that.

What she cared about was soft, sincere — blue-eyed and brown-skinned, ringlets of blonde hair enshrouding her like a waterfall ... or perhaps a halo. She couldn’t help but stare every time they were in each other’s company. It didn’t matter what they were doing, either. Whether it be folding clothes or spinning fabric or destemming flower bouquets, the focal point of Keqing’s attention remained there and true.

On that day, they were seated beside one another facing a too-big desk in Keqing’s too-big bedroom. Cradled in each of their arms was a book detailing Liyue’s social customs, namely the Flower Ball. Both sets of parents had suggested they study its contents together. “After all, it’s befitting for a proper woman to be versed in social etiquette,” Keqing’s mother had perked up, much to her chagrin. She would much rather be reading about Roald the Adventurer, or perhaps about the ruins scattered across their country ... something more becoming than the proper way to smile and wave before casting a glorified paper weight off a cliff.

So, naturally, Keqing had untrained her eyes from the book and, instead, kept them trained on the subject of her care. It was strangely calming to observe her leaf through page after page, forehead crinkling in concentration as she attempted to make sense of every word.

She pursed her lips. Keqing made note of how plump they were.

“Jia.” Despite the intensity of her stare, she addressed the other girl plainly. And although it took a moment, Jia eventually acknowledged her companion, closing her book and gingerly placing it on the desk.

“Hey, thanks for that,” she chirped. Her plump lips fixed themselves into a smile. Something tightened in Keqing’s chest. It was the same way a clenched fist felt but somehow ... different. Somehow ... better.

“Did you lose track of time again?” Keqing moved to discard of her own book. She then extended both of her arms upward in a lazy stretch. “You tend to do that ... not that there’s anything wrong with it. Diligence is a good trait to have.”

Jia let out a laugh. “Okay, okay! If you say so!” She mimicked Keqing’s pose, allowing her legs to go slack, as well. “I liked what was in that book, though. I felt all grown-up reading about what it means to be a lady.”

“Is that so?” Keqing lowered her arms, opting to fold them over her chest. “I guess I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Another laugh. That tight sensation seized Keqing’s chest again. “Hehe! It’s okay. I can give you notes! That way, you don’t get in trouble with your parents.”

At that point, Keqing swore her heart would explode. Aside from just looking nice, Jia also always did nice things for her: drawing her pictures, picking flowers for her, and of course, handwriting study notes for her. She couldn’t help but wonder what drove Jia to act in such a way and so constantly at that. Was this behavior reminiscent of something relayed to them in that book? Or perhaps the other books she refused to touch?

“No, it’s alright,” Keqing dismissed with a wave of her hand. “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Jia nodded, adjusting her posture so that her heels were planted on the seat of her chair, her lean brown arms hugging her legs to her chest. A few beats of silence swept over both girls. Truth be told, Keqing imagined that the other would revert to continue reading her book, seeing as she enjoyed it so much...

...Until —

“Keqing, how do you feel about love?”

Had she actually obeyed her parents and done her share of reading, the question wouldn’t have jostled her as much as it did, but alas ... there Keqing sat in stupefied ignorance, chills coursing down her spine and chest tormented with the prospect of a heart palpitation.

“Like —” Jia continued. Looks like Keqing had been unresponsive for too long. “ — What are your thoughts on kissing?” She rocked back and forth all the while, forearms flushing a pale red thanks to the friction of her movements. Keqing found herself wanting to run her fingers through those very spots — to gently quell the reddening flesh.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought much of it,” she finally chose to answer, if to just distract her wayfaring mind. Violet eyes dropped to behold the suddenly interesting marble tile of her floor. She then pretended to be captivated by her own hands, twiddling her thumbs in vain. “How about you?”

Ever oblivious, Jia giggled. “I guess I’m the same way ... but you know what my mommy said? She said that you only kiss someone you really like ...” Keqing considered that, mid-thumb twiddle. “ ...And the book said that, too! When the bride and groom make their vows and swear to live happily ever after, they seal the deal by smooching!”

Keqing considered that, too, humming in thought. On the other hand, her parents had taught her that marriages were but a strategic maneuver — orchestrated like some grand scheme for the sake of maintaining power and financial prosperity. They were transactional arrangements, not arrangements founded in an intimate respect and understanding of each other.

So, naturally, Keqing was speechless. And she remained that way — quiet, contemplative — for a moment before she at last dared her eyes to glaze over and meet Jia’s.

“Well ... ” she simpered. “Isn’t that nice?”

The pair then spent the next half hour or so in an amiable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Jia unsurprisingly continued to read her book. Keqing, on the other hand, was thinking up a storm.

As their time bordered an hour, they transitioned from sitting casually a few inches from each other, to Jia scooting her chair closer to Keqing’s, to Jia laying her head on Keqing’s lap, to a beet red Keqing resting her legs on Jia’s lap. They stayed like that for ... archons know how long. It was a miracle that it hadn’t been time for Jia and her family to leave yet.

By this point, exactly one hour and fifty-five minutes had passed. Jia’s book now lay abandoned at the foot of her chair. She instead intertwined her fingers with Keqing’s, whose head was perched comfortably on the crook of her shoulder.

The physical contact was a pleasant surprise. Keqing acknowledged this by squeezing the other girl’s hand. It’s funny because, well, Keqing had never been the affectionate type, let alone really had a friend before. There had been her parents’ servants and the occasional child of business partners from abroad, otherwise Keqing had always been a pretty lonely kid.

That being said, she wasn’t particularly sure if the tightening that had been seizing and releasing the organ in her chest was from the contentment of having someone genuinely appreciate her ... or if she was just severely allergic to intimacy.

Either way, when Jia turned slightly to look at her, probably to tell her some joke, Keqing moved up from her shoulder and pressed their lips together. Their teeth clinked and their noses mashed, which, well, ow ... and Jia tasted like the giant fried shrimp balls they gorged on for dinner which wasn’t bad as a dish, but tasted a little funny coming from someone else’s mouth. Not that Keqing’s breath reeked of anything better ...

... But all in all, no, that was ... not good. That was far from the most romantic first kiss in existence. It couldn’t even be considered romantic, really. Keqing recoiled as if she had been scorched, her entire face lit aflame. She searched Jia’s doe eyes and was on the brink of mumbling out an apology when, in that instant, Jia seized her face between her hands, an unreadable expression contrasting that of Keqing’s.

Without further hesitation, Jia drew her closer for another kiss — one that was soft and sincere just like her.

It lasted for all of a couple of seconds. When Jia pulled back, it had been her face’s turn to heat up, its hue shy of scarlet.

Having lost all composure, Keqing dragged both hands through her once neatly plaited pigtails. “I apologize for, uh, attacking your face.”

Jia beamed, but not before flushing an even more telling shade of red ... ah yes, now she was scarlet. “No, uh ...” A girlish giggle leaked out from her awkward grin. “ ... Don’t worry about it.” It then dawned on her that Keqing’s lips were still but a hairsbreadth from hers. Jia quickly uncupped Keqing’s face and sat on her hands.

“Sorry,” she mouthed.

Keqing tilted her head, picking at the nape of her neck in confusion. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who kissed you first.”

And it was as if saying that word aloud is what made it real. Kissed. Keqing kissed Jia. Her friend. Her only friend.

She was tempted to completely shield her face with her hands, but she decided against it, in the off-chance that the gesture would traumatize Jia and inhibit her from ever talking to any guys (or girls ...) ever again, let alone getting wed to one.

The once amiable silence between them had descended into something tiptoeing the fine line between “awkward” and “grave”. Fortune seemed to favor both girls that fateful night, however, and it only took another minute or so before Jia’s mom had swung the door open, calling for her to say her goodbyes and head home with her.

And here was the awkward part: should Keqing see her out? And bid her a proper goodbye at the front door?

Alas, her body settled on a decision before her mind could, coercing her legs into walking down, down, down the spiraling staircase alongside Jia. It was only when both girls stood face-to-face at the door that Keqing was able to wrestle herself out of autopilot.

Jia’s mom had already begun her trek down the path leading to their home. Jia, however, hadn’t made any effort to budge from her place. She continued to stand there with both hands clasped behind her back, her aura an interesting mix of stalwart and shy.

Keqing smiled slightly in spite of herself, her own gaze glued to the floor. Only then was when ...

“Uh, good night!” Jia’s voice rung in the air an entire octave higher, causing Keqing’s eyes to lock onto hers like a magnet. The former flicked her fingers stiffly in a sort of cursory wave.

That wave. It was the wave that did it. Keqing inched forward and dipped her head to press a quick kiss to the corner of Jia’s mouth. She then guided her closer to the door, coaxing it further open.

“Good night,” she finally murmured in return, closing the door before Jia could muster a response. Oh, if only Keqing had stayed just a moment longer.

Because then, she would have caught the dopey look on Jia’s face. She would have seen Jia fondly graze her lips with the pads of her fingers.

Keqing should not have shut that door so quickly.

Because they didn’t talk about it after that.

In fact, they didn’t talk at all.

#this was supposed to b short and sweet but no i went feral over the idea of keqing being soft so um #ya if u read this thank u gjsklgjdslkg #* WRITING / my wit ? as sharp as keqing's sword .#* CHARA. STUDY / waiting ; seething ; blooming .#kissing //#pda //

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steph-writing · 5 years ago

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Fem Byleth x Claude wedding...? Please

I got this ask a while ago but I needed the F E E L S to do it justice. And I can only hope I did it justice because THIS COUPLE!!!!!! DESERVES!!!!!! THE WORLD!!!!!! 😭😍 And I’m not used to 3rd POV writing so shit if I screwed up my bad lmao enjoy ;)

AO3 link

“Claude, you will not see the bride before she walks in!” Hilda barks at Claude for what feels like the hundredth time as she catches him trying to sneak in the room where Byleth is getting ready. “Get out of here before I chop off your favorite toy and ruin Byleth’s honeymoon.”

“Now, there’s no need to get aggressive, is there?” Claude tries to laugh it off but it’s clear as day from the way his stance shifts that he’s taking her threats very seriously.

But as he turns to try and make his escape back to the dining hall, a very smiley and a very annoyed Raphael and Lorenz block his exit.

“Hey Claude-”

“What exactly made you think you will marry Byleth dressed like that?” Lorenz interrupts Raphael’s warm-hearted exchange with nothing but sheer exasperation on his voice.

Letting out a deep breath, Hilda drops the axe she was wielding menacingly moments ago and smiles at the guys. “Good, you’re here. Could you please drag Claude’s sorry ass out of here? I need to check on Byleth.”

Not waiting for their reply, she storms off down the hall.

“I just wanted to talk with my fiancée, is that some sort of crime?” Claude tries to sound nonchalant, but it’s to no avail.

“I’m not sure you grasp the magnitude of the event that’s about to unfold!” Shaking his head, Lorenz, motions Raphael to grab Claude and start leading him away as they walk back to his room to finish getting him ready.

“This wedding is not only your joyous and, might I add, much delayed love union with Byleth, but also the joining of two great nations! Fódlan and Almyra were never amicable to each other, but that is bound to change with a romantic union of the leader of our free nation and the King of Almyra. You ought to show some respect and dignity to carry out your duties today!

“Besides, how do you think Byleth would feel if she could see just how little you seem to care to your appearance for today? Oh my, is that sauce I see on your shirt? Claude, this is unacceptable!

“Have you any idea what it would look like if…”

Lorenz keeps talking until they get there, all the way on the other side of the Monastery, but doesn’t seem to realize Claude, thrown over Raphael’s shoulder for good measure, has fallen asleep to the sound of his nagging, and only wakes up when Raphael puts him down non-ceremoniously on the chair while Lorenz hits his closet to find something he deems suitable for Claude to wear for his wedding.

Meanwhile, Hilda deals with something she never expected to see.

“What if he doesn’t show up? Or worse, if he says no? Or that it was all just a joke? What if he doesn’t really love me and this is just an overelaborated prank?”

Byleth is pacing around so fast that Hilda is having a hard time believing her former Professor even has the ability to talk so much and so fast all at once.

“Byleth, will you just calm down?” She storms up to the bride, stopping her at once and proceeding to fix the diadem on her hair.

“But Hilda, I-”

“I know, I know. It all seems very easy until it gets down to it, right? You get all these doubts and uncertainties and it makes you want to run far, far away and never look back.” Byleth nods slowly, biting down on her lip so hard she can almost taste the metal on her blood. “I’ve been there, remember? And you were there to knock some sense into me while I was already getting my wyvern ready to fly away.”

They both laugh softly at the memory. It is true, Byleth can still remember the tears on Hilda’s eyes as she questioned all she and her now husband ever went through and whether she was forcing him into their marriage.

“I was silly for doubting then, and you’re being even more now.” Gently pushing Byleth back to the chair, Hilda grabs some makeup and starts giving her some finishing touches. “My husband is a bit slow on that aspect, we both know that. But Claude’s different. He never hid how much he cares for you, nor how much he loves you.”

Byleth sighs, a small smile tugging the corners of her lips, and Hilda feels a pride tug on her now very pregnant belly. She was making her little boy proud by soothing his godmother at this time of need.

“I was outside kicking him out of here because he couldn’t stand not to see you until the ceremony, you know? He’s with Lorenz and Raphael now, and we both know those two won’t let anything happen to our boy. You can rest assured that he’ll be on that altar, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was already there, honestly.”

“It’s just… there’s so much that could go wrong.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a Golden Deer wedding if it all ran smoothly. We are quite the troublemakers, Professor.”

Winking mischievously at Byleth, Hilda focuses on finishing her makeup, the ceremony is just around the corner, and everything better be working out because she will not run around to fix everyone’s mess with a belly this big.

But she’d sure as hell make her husband do it.

As Hilda turns around to grab a different lip tint color, Byleth seems to gather her strength and rushes what’s been eating at her from the inside.

“Hilda, there’s something I haven’t told anyone yet…”

Finally, it’s time.

Claude can’t stop fidgeting on the altar, counting the seconds until Byleth walks through the Cathedral’s door. He hasn’t seen her all day, and ever since he came back, he’s tried to hear her laugh at least once a day. But today when he woke up, she was already gone, and the guys were already ready to drag him all around until the ceremony.

He managed to sneak away a few times, but a very pregnant and menacing Hilda blocked his every attempt at seeing his fiancée.

They lived in Derdriu but decided to hold the wedding on the Monastery for several reasons. It was here they shared their first kiss, all those years ago before the battle where Byleth disappeared. It was here where they were reunited, where they shared their first touches, where he heard her cries of pleasure for the first time, where they declared their love for each other… and where he proposed before leaving for Almyra.

He looks around the room and sees all of their friends sitting there, eager to see their union at long last, all happy smiles and teary eyes.

Dorothea, Manuela and Annette are next to the piano, ready to sing the entrance song when Byleth walks in.

Everyone attended, there are Blue Lions, Black Eagles and Golden Deers spread out, sitting next to each other… Claude can’t help but feel proud of his soon-to-be wife.

She really did help create a unified Fódlan, if you look at everyone on this room, you’d never say they weren’t always united.

He wishes, however, that Dimitri and Dedue could’ve been here. Even Edelgard and Hubert… but he knows that they’d be proud of what he and Byleth are accomplishing in Fódlan, and it brings a smile to his face.

Even the Almyrans have showed up for his wedding, some of them even mingling and chatting with the guests from Fódlan – the way it’s supposed to be. Looking at his parents sitting on the end of the front row, he can’t help but feel his heart break a bit.

Byleth doesn’t have any blood relatives left. He knows she still thinks of Jeralt, she told him as much, and every time he sees that forlorn look on her eyes when she visits his grave when they come to the monastery, he swears over and over again that he’ll give her the biggest and happiest family she’s ever seen.

Lorenz shifts next to him, and he notices he’s making room for Hilda to get on the other side of the altar as the maid of honor usually does. He also notices Seteth and Lorenz are quirking their eyebrows at Hilda, which he soon does too when he sees the huge smile that’s on her face.

“What…”

Claude’s question dies on his lips when the huge doors crack open, and the music starts playing.

The sun is shining bright, and it causes a halo of light to surround Byleth’s white dress as she steps on the threshold.

By all the Gods in this world, how is it that she’s looking even more beautiful than usual? Claude asks himself, all else forgotten. There’s a certain… glow on her, he can’t look away. Is it magic? It must be.

As Byleth walks in on Alois’s arm, he only partially notices how the old man is bawling his eyes out. He remembers how emotional he got when Byleth asked him to walk her on the aisle as her father figure. And he’s sure the song the girls are singing is very emotional and has nice lyrics, but he can’t hear them. He can’t see anyone else.

All he sees is Byleth.

All he feels is love.

All he wants is to hold her in his arms and swear before every God and Goddess out there that he will never let her go again, that his life is hers and that he promises to spend eternity making her happier each day.

Her hair cascades down her back in soft curls, the golden diadem crowning her head making her look like a Queen, his Queen. And her dress hugs her every curve, making her look so tempting it should be a sin to walk in a church like that.

When she reaches the altar, he’s dazzled by her smile, by the sheer love that’s on her eyes, a look he’s sure is a clear reflection of his. Claude’s hardly able to spare a glance to Alois when he takes Byleth’s hands in his, but he’s sure the man didn’t notice through all the tears on his face.

Seteth begins the ceremony, a mix of Fódlan and Almyran traditions, and Claude’s sure it must be lovely, but he can’t stop looking at Byleth, and she can’t stop looking at him. It’s only when it’s time for his vows that he finds his voice again.

“I vow to love you, protect you, and stand by you. Now and forever. My anamchara, I will never leave you, for my life is yours and without you I can’t ever be. I never thought I’d need someone as much as I need you, and never have I thought that I’d enjoy sharing so much of myself, my dreams and my life with someone. Thank you for trusting me, for being my friend, for being my teach, and for being my love. I promise to give you all I am, and to be your friend, your lover, and your family. Now and forever.”

Byleth’s eyes are so marred with tears, her voice wavers when it’s her turn.

“I vow to love you, protect you, and stand by you. Now and forever. Finding you was like finding a piece of me I always knew was missing. Thank you for being there for me when I needed someone, for being my shoulder to cry on and the one to make me laugh even in the darkest times. My anamchara,” she says the word with that cute accent that always makes Claude’s heart hammer on his chest, “I love you more than I ever thought it to be possible. I promise to give you all I am, and to be your friend, your lover and your family. Now and forever.”

Claude’s lips quiver at her vow, and as they exchange their rings, both of their hands shake at their overjoyed anticipation of a life together at last.

At the sound of all their friends’ cheer, Claude pulls Byleth against his chest by her waist, and they share the purest of smiles before he leans down to kiss her with all the love he can muster.

Pulling their lips apart, Claude still can’t let go of his wife. Wife. He thinks the word to himself over and over, adoring the feel of it, only to have his thoughts interrupted by her small voice whispering against his neck.

“Claude, I…”

“What is it?” He senses her hesitation and tilts her head up with a gentle finger under her chin. She knows she can tell him whatever, he’ll still be there for her.

“I’m pregnant.”

His smile falters for a moment, but before Byleth can even look away, he breaks out in laughter, and pulls her even closer, lifting her as he spins around hugging her, which is enough for her to loosen up and laugh alongside him, both basking on the joy of the chance of starting their own family.

Today is, without a shadow of doubt, the best day in Claude’s life.

And as they walk down the aisle into their new life, they know they’ll love each other until the end of this world.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #claude von riegan #clauleth #bylaude #claude x byleth #byleth x claude #f!byleth #wedding #fe3h imagine #fe3h fanfic #fe3h fanfiction #fire emblem fanfic #fire emblem claude #fire emblem fanfiction #writing #fe3h writing #byleth #fe3h headcanons

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pocket-sized-angel0601 · 4 years ago

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Thousands of Years Past (Modern AU) Geralt x reader

It has been thousands of years. Forever stuck in my twenty-year-old body, the curse in full effect.

I've watched all the magic beings slaughtered, hunted to extinction. If not dead now in hiding from the humans that will tear them apart without hesitation. I was cursed at birth not told as to what the curse was and I sometimes wish I had never known. The curse of a bond, a bond of true love. Lest had I fallen in love with a bloody Witcher, the White Wolf; Geralt of Rivia.

The silver-headed man saved me from a kikimora and cared for me until I returned to my village. He then saved once more from a loveless marriage to a lord that bought me from my family. Exclaimed to me that I had cast a spell or some other bullshit cause he kept wanting to come back to me 'it drove me insane' he would scream as he'd pace all the while pulling at his silver locks. Despite his angered demeanour, to be with him brought me peace.

As a lady, I brought him in and gave him housing. I left that place with him a week later, on our travels I had been nicknamed the waterless siren. Magic powers awakened, but almost useless in our travels. He'd say to me on restless nights, "Sing for me, (Y/N). Allow me to sleep."

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But now in modern days, I hide from him. Not in fear but only because I wish to protect him but people are snooping and I have to leave soon. For the past fifty years, I've spent without him have been lonely. Over the years, I've been training my voice now used as a weapon of sorts.

A high school, where I learned what the humans call their past was home for a while, I took control of teachers and fellow students and rallied everyone in one spot. Chatter calmed once you stepped into the large gym. Clad in a flowing Ivory dress, one breath in and out came your voice. Enchanting them one by one you change memories that had you in them each one relived by you.

The song ended leaving them and yourself in a trance, they know you as a guest here to sing for them. But the loud clap of leather gloves drew the attention to a tall broad man, with glowing silver hair in a ponytail, cat-like golden eyes studied you. You heard your name glade from his lips to enchant your ears.

Like a spell the people that used to know you didn't exist; just you two. He stood there in the doorway and watched you. Slowly at first almost unsure the only sound was the shift of your dress and the sound your heeled shoes hitting the ground.

"Geralt..." Like whisper but to him it was loud and clear.

You picked your skirt and ran towards him, feeling that rush and warmth no other can give you. Over fifty-years, you've longed to feel his embraced, to feel his muscles under your touch, to hear his voice.

You jumped into his arms knocking him back a couple of steps he wrapped himself around you. Warm hands glided around your bareback, a deep hum came from him when your much frail arms around his neck pulling closer as he lifts you from the ground.

Like that you two disappeared from the small high school.

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Light fleeted in from the window, sheets moving from your shoulders as you turn in the strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You smiled the sight of the sleepy gold eyes, your fingers fleeted against his scared chest; already knowing each of their stories.

"Good morning, my wolf", you whispered and brushed his hair out of his face. "And to you, my angel." Giggling you feel him pull your warm body closer while rubbing stubble on your neck. "Can't believe you still keep that nickname of mine", you push his face off only to peck the corner of his mouth. "They called you siren, I think you are an angel, and you are mine." He responded with kisses on your forehead and lips, causing you to erupt a glowing smile. He slips his rough hands under the oversized shirt you stole- burrowed from him. Burrowing himself into your collar bone he grumbles, "What shall we do today, my (Y/N)" "If you can manage to let me go, I can make some breakfast." He paused for a minute and like a disgruntled 'hm' before gently biting your collars causing you jump a bit before kiss the spot and moved to let you go.

Almost a month ago he found you, both of you in silent agreement left and came here. A well sized house in the middle of woods, with windows spanning the kitchen wall with the sink and two story high windows in the living room. With this much access it almost feels like when you'd sleep on the ground with all those years ago. —————————————————————————————————————— We sat in silence his eyes on the road. You silently wrapped your hand around his free one causing him to briefly look over at you and squeeze your hand in acknowledgment. "How did you find me?" He thought for minute while stroking your knuckles. "Hm. I heard your voice and then I kept hearing it so I followed it and it brought me to that school. It reminded me of how you love knowledge and so it all made sense." You could tell that he was tired, without you sleep was hard for him. "Geralt..."He grunted in response. "Have you ever wondered what I'd look like if I aged, not just some twenty something or some would even call a teenager?" He takes turn on some off road and slows down, allowing him to look you in the eyes. "I'd be lying if said no. But you are you I know how old you are that's all that matters." You reared up thinking you left him for fifty years. "While I was gone I thought about children a lot." We came up to a two story house surrounded by trees a stall in the back holding to horses. "And? What was your conclusion?" He parked in front. Awaiting your answer. "We've watched many wars, we didn't take any children with us because our life was too dangerous but now we leave here away from harm. They need homes and can give it to them, we obviously can't have kids, so why not." He smiled at you being a couple thousand years old never stopped you loving children. Geralt leaned over and kissed you then placed his forehead against yours. "After we've settled in, we can talk about this. But I've spent fifty years without you and I was getting pretty lonely." —————————————————————————————————————— "What you giggling about?" Geralt's gravely voice startled you as you looked up with knife in hand. "I was thinking about that conversation when we first came to this place." You relaxed and continued to cut the vegetables in front of you. "I am not quite done with having you to myself yet." He shuffles quietly from his place on the island to behind you. "You are being greedy, wolf." He takes the knife away and starts chopping the rest while you get on whisking the eggs. "But everything is as destiny wills it, my love", you put down the bowl and kiss him when he looked over at you. "Of course. After all you are my destiny."

#geralt of rivia x reader #witcher geralt #geralt of rivera #thewitcher #thewitherxreader #x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #the witcher netflix

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

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Husband, Guardian, Muse - Chapter 1/3 (Rated NC17)

Summary: After the untimely death of his husband and muse, Crowley tries to find the simplest, most foolproof way to join him. But in the days that follow, he discovers that sometimes what looks like an ending can turn out to be a beginning, and that no one is ever really gone if we find a way to remember them.

Notes: This was the piece I wrote for Celestial Harmonies Zine :) Go check it out. Human au. Warning for heavy angst, death, alcohol abuse and thoughts of suicide. But it does have a happy ending :)

Crowley hated working over his vacations.

Wasn’t the point of being a semi-famous artist that he got to make his own hours, work alone, and spend as much time at home with his husband as he wanted?

Not this time, apparently. Not since Alciston & Selmeston Village Hall decided to do a complete renovation, including replacing their hospitality-grade art with original work from local artists, he had been stuck in meetings and consultations all week while his husband occupied himself at their cottage.

Aziraphale said he didn’t mind since he was doing renovations of his own – a new work space for Crowley, an extension to his library, expanding the wine cellar. Being alone gave Aziraphale the opportunity to putter over fabric samples and color swatches in peace without his husband intervening every five minutes with his supposed “expert eye for nuance”.

But Crowley had enough of forgoing lunches with his husband (as well as afternoon delights) in favor of another discussion over whether or not a Monet-inspired acrylic of waterlilies would be appropriate for the treasurer’s office. He launched his escape when an argument over abstract sculptures for public spaces broke out. He grabbed a blank canvas under the guise of starting a new piece and slipped away in his Bentley. He hit the interstate and sped off like a bat out of hell, making it to their cottage in record time.

Crowley loved how secluded it was in their small patch of heaven. Tucked far and away from any other living souls, no one complained about their activities – amorous or otherwise - be it at three in the afternoon or three in the morning.

Crowley shed his jacket, his keys, and his phone at the front door, then he wandered the rooms, the canvas from earlier tucked beneath his arm, making as much noise as possible to alert his husband of his arrival.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley called, walking through the kitchen in search of his muse. “Aziraphale! Where are you, angel? I miss your ass!”

“I thought you had to work this afternoon.”

Crowley smiled. “I am working. I’m doing a portrait of a gorgeous man, as soon as I find him.”

“No …” Aziraphale chuckled. “You’re supposed to be doing a landscape for the city planner’s office.”

“No,” Crowley insisted, inspecting another empty room. “I’m painting you. Naked if I have my way.”

“You just want to snog,” Aziraphale teased.

“Nothin’ wrong with that. Now where are you? This cottage i’n’t that big.”

“Out here, installing the track lighting.”

Crowley turned the corner to the patio – a space they’d recently added to give Crowley a protected outdoor area to work. There was Aziraphale – his intrepid Aziraphale – braving their rickety, eighty-year-old ladder to install a row of lights. The chrome runner and bonnets gleamed in the midday sun, right in Aziraphale’s eyes, so he was installing them blind, his eyes shut against the reflected light, feeling around for the holes to put the screws in. Crowley winced when the ladder shivered beneath Aziraphale’s weight, but Aziraphale seemed oblivious, balancing precariously on his toes to screw the fixture to the wall.

Crowley put the canvas down and held the ladder secure beneath his husband. “I really wish you’d let me do that. Or wait till we buy a new ladder.”

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley with playful blue eyes. “This ladder is fine. Besides, I don’t have much more to do. It’ll only take a ---” Aziraphale leaned sideways. The ladder lurched. Luckily, Crowley reacted in time to keep Aziraphale from toppling head first into the retaining wall.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Crowley said, pulling on Aziraphale’s pant leg. “Get down now.”

“But I only have one screw left!”

That’s an understatement, Crowley thought bitterly in reference to the dozen or so times he’d asked Aziraphale to wait on this project. “I don’t care. Get your ass down off that ladder.”

“Geez,” Aziraphale huffed, carefully navigating the rungs. “You certainly have a fondness for my rear.”

“It happens to be a glorious rear.” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s behind and squeezed for emphasis. “I don’t want anything happening to it.” He drew Aziraphale close, relishing the way their bodies fit together, as if some higher power had carved them both from the same slab of stone.

Like they’d been made specifically for each other.

Aziraphale tilted his head, pouting in mock offense. “So, you only care about my rear?”

“Among other things.” Crowley captured Aziraphale’s lips, not waiting for an invitation, trying his best to kiss the pout from Aziraphale’s face.

If Aziraphale’s whimpers were any indication, Crowley was winning.

But Crowley’s cellphone, ringing where he’d left it, called a foul on his game. He had no intention of stopping, but Aziraphale annoyingly felt that job and responsibility came before snogging.

“You should get that,” he struggled to say, voice muffled by Crowley’s lips pressing insistently against his.

“Nope.”

“But it’s probably village hall, wondering where their artist is.”

Crowley frowned as his husband squirmed out of his arms while laughing at what Aziraphale called Crowley’s “sour mug”. Crowley narrowed his eyes at his husband.

“I’m going to go answer that, but just to tell them to get lost, and then I’m getting you naked.”

Crowley peppered Aziraphale’s cheeks with kisses to a symphony of his giggles. Then, with a heavy-handed swat to his backside, he reluctantly released his husband and ran inside to answer the phone.

Despite his frustration at having to put his escapades with his husband on hold, Crowley couldn’t help smiling. He loved his life. He loved his marriage. He especially loved the time they spent at their cottage in the South Downs. He’d always be a city dweller, but this place was paradise. He loved bringing his husband here and having him all to himself.

Crowley and Aziraphale had been blessed with a wonderful five-year-long honeymoon, and he didn’t see that ending anytime soon.

“Coming, coming,” he yelled at his insufferable phone, but he wasn’t exactly rushing to get it. By the time he reached it, it stopped ringing.

“Oh, no,” he joked. “I didn’t get here in time. Whatever shall I do?”

It didn’t matter to him anyway since no power on heaven or earth could have convinced him to leave his husband right as he was preparing to ravish him.

And to make sure they weren’t interrupted again, he turned his ringer off.

“Well, now that that’s settled …”

A sharp noise pricked at Crowley’s ears. Nothing too alarming. In fact, it could have been a bird chirping. But it filled him from head to toe with dread.

He didn’t know how he could possibly feel the ladder tilt from inside the cottage, but he felt the sway of it as if he was standing on it instead of Aziraphale. After a swoop of sudden and inexplicable nausea hit him, everything happened absurdly fast. He heard Aziraphale yelp, a loud metallic clatter, then a horrifying crack, like pottery hitting pavement.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley called, and then he waited. When his husband didn’t answer, he started to panic. “Aziraphale!” He ran for the patio, having the sense of mind to start dialing 9-9-9, knowing in his heart that his husband would need an ambulance. “Aziraphale! Are you alri---?”

Crowley got his answer the second he burst through the patio door.

No, Aziraphale wasn’t alright.

Aziraphale definitely wasn’t alright.

***

It rained the day they buried Aziraphale.

This weather was such a marked change from the weeks of sunny skies and no clouds. Aziraphale had mentioned how they needed a good, all-day rainstorm to trap them indoors where they could snuggle together on the sofa with mugs of cocoa and listen to the drops fall. Aziraphale was a quintessential pluviophile. He found peace in the rain.

Crowley hated the rain. He hated getting wet. He hated when his soaked clothes stuck to his skin and cold water ran into his socks. He hated sloshing inside his shoes, and the way they never completely dried. But as much as he hated the rain, he loved Aziraphale, and the rain made Aziraphale happy.

So Crowley became a pluviophile for Aziraphale.

Crowley stood by Aziraphale’s casket beside his open grave and waited in the rain. He waited while the mourners paid their respects. He waited while everyone hugged and cried. He waited until the final mourner wandered somberly away. He waited until they lowered Aziraphale into the ground, and even after there was nothing left to witness, he waited until nightfall, when the rain stopped, the clouds parted, and the stars came out.

Crowley had painted stars hundreds of times. They were one of his favorite subjects to paint.

Now, he didn’t want to look at them.

Tracy, one of Aziraphale’s dearest friends, and her husband Sergeant Shadwell, returned to the cemetery a little before midnight in search of their missing friend, convince him to go home, but Crowley refused to leave. So they waited with him, not pressing the issue even though Crowley was sopping wet and stifling sniffles he knew would bloom into a full-blown cold later on.

At some point, Crowley finally came to the conclusion that Aziraphale wasn’t going to magically return, so he took Tracy’s hand and let himself be led away from his husband’s final resting place. Crowley’s forehead burned with fever by the time the couple got him back to the cottage, but Crowley turned down Tracy’s offer to stay. As much as Tracy objected, in the end, she didn’t have the strength to battle her own grief and Crowley’s, and they left the man alone.

Crowley walked through the unlit cottage, straight out back to the patio, shoving aside a morbid sense of déjà vu. He dropped heavily into a wicker chaise and looked up at the clear night sky, but his vision was obscured by something shiny hanging a few feet above his head.

The light fixture.

That stupid track lighting.

Crowley stared at it in shock as it dangled on its two screws.

The fixture was there, brand new out-of-the-box, installed except for one damn screw, but because of it, Aziraphale was dead.

Crowley snapped.

He spotted an abandoned hoe over by the retaining wall, a few feet from where Aziraphale had fallen. He grabbed it and, with a renewed vigor, attacked the lights.

“Goddamned lights!” he screamed. “What the fuck did we need these for, Aziraphale? Why did you have to put them up when I asked you to wait!? Why didn’t you wait, Aziraphale!? Why couldn’t you just sit on your ass and fucking wait!?”

The sound of the hoe hitting the lights and the brick behind it echoed. The force of the blows caused the hoe to vibrate painfully in Crowley’s hands, but he only tightened his grip and struck harder.

“Fuck you, Aziraphale! Why did you have to put up these stupid lights!?” Crowley screamed, shattering the bulbs and sending a spray of glass falling over his hair and clothes. “I told you to wait! I told you I’d do it! I don’t need the lights, Aziraphale! I need you, Aziraphale!”

He pounded the bonnets flat, chipped away a good portion of the brick wall, but it didn’t make him feel better. He didn’t feel avenged. He could pick those lights apart piece by piece, chop them up until they became dust, but that wouldn’t bring his husband back. And why was he taking out his anger on the lights? He should turn that hoe on himself. Why the fuck hadn’t he held the ladder till Aziraphale finished? He knew how stubborn his husband was, how determined he’d be to finish something he’d started. Why didn’t he take Aziraphale’s place and screw in the lights himself, get it over and done with once and for all? Those lights didn’t kill his husband, nor the ladder. And it wasn’t Aziraphale.

It was Crowley.

He was the only one to blame.

Panting hard and with blistered palms, he dropped the hoe on the ground at his feet.

He’s the one. He did this. He killed his husband.

He destroyed his muse.

He stumbled into the cottage and rifled through the cabinets, searching for a fresh bottle of whiskey. He couldn’t stand being sober any longer. His hand came in contact with a bottle that felt mostly full. He grabbed it and pulled it down. Except this bottle wasn’t his spare bottle of Jack.

It was a lone bottle of Hennessy … and it had belonged to Aziraphale.

Crowley’s first instinct was to toss the bottle up against the wall and smash it. He looked around for an open space to hurl it when he caught sight of his paintings - a new crop he had started working on for a show in the fall, all of them featuring his muse.

Aziraphale.

Crowley hadn’t set them up in here. Aziraphale had. He was so proud of them, he’d displayed them. That way he could look at them while Crowley toiled down at the village hall, wasting his talents painting hillsides and sunsets.

But Crowley couldn’t look at them. They represented everything he’d had and lost in an instant. Being in their presence made him realize that he couldn’t go on this way. He couldn’t keep being the artist he was when the only subject he enjoyed painting was gone.

He didn’t want to keep existing when the only man he’d ever loved was dead.

He took a swig of the Hennessy to steady his nerves. With his body burning hot and fire in his veins, he grabbed up the paintings, every last one, and carried them outside, dropping them in an undignified pile on a patch of bare earth a distance from the cottage. He doused them with the cognac, gritting his teeth as the liquid assaulted the paint, causing it to bleed, distorting Aziraphale’s face, twisting it, like Aziraphale’s body would eventually be, decaying inside his coffin.

When the bottle was just about empty, he rummaged through his pockets for his silver Zippo. He didn’t smoke, but he liked keeping a lighter on hand for emergencies. And why carry around a common plastic BIC when he could spend over a hundred dollars on something he only used once or twice a year? But that was the man Crowley was.

Frivolous.

Over-the-top.

Who in their right mind chooses to make a living as an artist anyway? He didn’t even want to be a painter initially. But when his trust fund matured and he gained control of it, he realized that he had more than enough money to live the life of a rock star and never work a day in his life. On a whim, he began to dally with watercolors and voila! He unlocked a secret talent.

But he should have done something respectable - gone to law school, or medical school. If he’d done either of those, Aziraphale might still be alive.

He’d give it all away, call a complete do over on his life, to get Aziraphale back.

He flipped the lighter open and an orange flame sprang to life. Crowley tossed the lighter into the pile. The flame barely touched the heap before the whole thing went up in a blaze. Crowley stood back and watched it burn, watched the past three months of his life go up in smoke. The paint melted, the canvas crackled, sparks of color went flying into the sky.

“There, Aziraphale,” Crowley grumbled, his throat raw from screaming. “It’s done. All of it. No more muse … no more you … no more paintings. I’ve buried it all with you. I’m done!”

Weak, tired, and sick, Crowley drank the dregs of Aziraphale’s cognac while fire devoured his paintings … and the love of his life.

It seemed too much work to trudge back to the cottage and climb into bed, so he lay down on the hard-packed earth next to the destroyed canvases. They maintained a slow burn, the air around him reeking of chemical smoke. Crowley hoped it would seep into his sinuses and suffocate his brain. Or maybe an errant cinder would jump onto his alcohol-soaked clothes and he would burn to death in his sleep; a sudden temperature drop freeze him to the ground where he lay. Either way, without Aziraphale, his bed wasn’t his bed, his home wasn’t a home, and Crowley wished more than anything that he could find the quickest and most efficient way to die.

Crowley had prayed that he would black out, surrender to an unconsciousness where time passed outside of memory, but he had no such luck. Locked inside sleep, he had the same dream over and over - Aziraphale falling from the ladder and cracking his head on the wall. And no matter what Crowley did, no matter how fast he ran, no matter if he didn’t go into the cottage to answer the phone, Aziraphale still died.

That was an absolute. It never changed.

Which meant that doctor, lawyer, or artist, Aziraphale would still die.

Before dawn, Crowley had no idea when, he heard a rustle, followed by footfalls on the ground, and he wrestled through the fog in his brain to open his eyes. If he was about to be mauled by wild animals, he wanted to know. But what he saw was a man – a beautiful man - approaching the charred pile, focused on it as if a sick, drunk, and urine-smelling Crowley wasn’t lying mere feet away. The man bent over the burnt canvases, a trembling hand pressed to his lips, and a gasp escaped his mouth.

Crowley had an overwhelming urge to reach out to the man, apologize for setting the paintings on fire, but why, he couldn’t explain. Crowley groaned, trying to form words with his sticky tongue. He rolled slightly, blinking to get a better look at his paintings’ solitary mourner, but when he opened his eyes, the man was gone, and Crowley fell asleep once again.

Crowley awoke after sunrise to the sound of laughter breaking through the haze of his fever-induced stupor. It was high-pitched, familiar. It sounded like heaven and home and the future Crowley had always dreamed of having, starting during those days when Aziraphale was completely clueless that Crowley had a crush on him. He could punch himself in the eye for the time he’d wasted not outright saying, “Aziraphale, I’m in love with you!”

Time he could use now.

Time he would never get back.

Back then, it took him longer than necessary to realize what he’d known from the beginning, from the first moment they met.

He wanted Aziraphale. Just Aziraphale.

Crowley peeled open his eyes and craned his head in search of the laughter, fixing his gaze on the cottage, and the patio he planned to tear out brick by brick by hand as soon as he was physically able. Somewhere in the midst of his pounding headache and the fog that refused to lift, he spotted piercing blue eyes – blue like the sky in summer – staring at him from behind a golden hibiscus. It was that exact spot Crowley had planned for his painting - the one he’d rushed home to start, of Aziraphale lounging on a chaise in front of the outdoor fireplace, the hibiscus behind him, its golden hue mimicking the highlights in his hair.

Crowley sat up too quickly to see who the eyes belonged to. His head swam, his stomach flipped, and before he knew it, he was on his hands and knees, vomiting over the ground. Crowley heaved until there was nothing left, eyes squeezed shut as his body wrung the past several hours’ worth of alcohol from him. As quickly as he could, he looked back at the cottage with watery eyes, but this time, he saw nothing. He dropped his head. It felt too heavy for his neck so he let it hang while he blinked what remained of his tears from his eyes. He caught a glimpse of his hands, filthy and paint-stained; the ruined cuffs of his suit reminding him that he still wore it. He pictured himself covered in dirt and vomit and knew that if Aziraphale could see him, he would be sorely disappointed.

Slowly, ever so slowly, with that thought lodged in his mind giving him an impetus to move, he crawled back to the cottage on his hands and knees. He felt lousy with fever, but his head began to clear. Small pebbles cut into the palms of his hands, but, unable to get to his feet, he continued to crawl, distracting himself by considering his options.

By the time he made it to the patio, his path seemed certain.

Crowley didn’t want to live, not without Aziraphale. His mind was made up.

He would settle his affairs.

He would finish his commissions, complete his obligations.

And when the cottage and his flat were put up on the market, and all was said and done, he would find the quickest, most foolproof way of being reunited with his husband again.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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daydreaming-nerd · 5 years ago

Text

Death Bed (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

This was inspired by the song Death Bed by Powfu! I’ve had this in my head for so long and it’s probably my favorite thing I’ve worked on. I really hope y’all enjoy it! Please leave a comment with some feedback they make my day!!!

Warnings: Cancer, talk of character death, angst, sad ending.

Summary: The reader has been diagnosed with stage 4 terminal cancer. After hearing the news she stops treatment with plans of living out the rest of her days with Sebastian.

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Sebastian wasn’t happy when I decided to stop treatment. It took both me and the doctor to explain to him that it wasn’t going to do any good. But for a man who decided to put a ring on his girls finger just two weeks before that initial doctors trip, I can understand how that could be hard to hear.

So that’s how we ended up here, still in bed, at noon. Sheets disheveled and me laying directly on top of Seb.

I don’t wanna fall asleep, I don’t wanna pass away. I’ve been thinking of our future cause I’ll never see those days...

“I feel like we need to get up and eat eventually,” I said breaking the silence.

“But that would require moving,” He said.

“I know you’re hungry, I can feel your stomach rumbling,” I smiled.

He contemplated his next words, almost deciding if he should let me be right or hold his ground.

“I’m hungry,” he blatantly stated.

“Hi hungry I’m dad,” I said craning my neck up at him to see his reaction.

“I hate you,” He laughed.

“No, you love me,” I said setting my head on his chest again. Another long silence of contentment ensued.

I don’t know why this has has happened, but I probably deserve it.

“How could this happen?” He stated “Why? Why you?”

“I’ve always had the worst luck in life. I probably deserve it.”

He grabbed my chin so I would look at him. With glassed over eyes he said.

“No, not you. Never you,”

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I laid in bed as Seb made blueberry pancakes, our breakfast had turned into more of a brunch. It was almost always brunch these days. On my good days when I had the energy I would try and help but there were times he would make me sit down and watch. I think it made him feel better to take care of me and I wasn’t going to take that from him.

I been praying for forgiveness, you’ve been praying for my health. When I leave this earth hoping you’ll find someone else. ‘Cause yeah we’re still young there’s so much we haven’t done, getting married, start a family, watch your wife with her son.

“So you have any other women lined up for yourself when I finally kick the bucket?” I asked yelled out jokingly.

He walked in with a tray full of our food.

“You really think I’m thinking about that shit? I just put a ring on that finger a couple months ago!” He said sliding into bed next to me.

“You should be thinking about it! Who is going to take care of you when I’m gone huh? Mackie?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out!” he laughed.

I leaned up against his chest and he sighed, running a hand thorough my hair.

“I’m never going to be able to move on from you y/n,” he said in a more serious tone.

“You have to Seb. All we’ve talked about these last three years is settling down, getting married and having kids. I still want that for you,”

“I talked about those things with you though y/n. I wanted it all with you.” he said

I wish it could be me but I won’t make it out this bed, I hope I go to heaven so I see you once again

“I wanted to be your wife so bad,” I said feeling my heart brake.

“Who says you can’t be?” He perked up causing me to sit up and look at him. “Let’s round everyone up right now, anyone who can make it. Who says we need a caterer and a DJ? Let’s get married today!”

“Sebastian Stan I love you,” I smiled planting a kiss on his lips.

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It was the perfect wedding. Chris was in town and Anthony booked a last minute flight in order to get there. Paul Hauser, Seb’s I Tonya co-star made it as well as some of my old co-stars and Sebastians mother. We bought a cake from the supermarket down the street and signed the marriage certificate at NYC City Hall and called every preacher in town before we had to convince Paul to get his five minute minister license online. Sebastian even bought me a dress.

We ended up having the perfect wedding in our apartment. We partied all night with friends and family and ate shitty supermarket cake. Mackie sang Baby Got Back for us and Chris cried giving a toast.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” Sebastian started, “I’d like to make a toast and this one might be a tear jerker so someone hand Evans a tissue box,”

Everyone laughed and I moved over to give him a side hug.

“It’s no secret as to why we’re here today and I’d like to say thank you to everyone who came. I know it was last minute, but I’ve wanted to marry this woman for a few years now and there was no way I was letting it slip away from me.” he said looking at me “When I look back at this day I’ll always remember how beautiful you looked and how good it felt to hear you say I do. You’re so strong, brave and beautiful baby and I love you so much. I don’t know how much longer we have left, but I know it’s never going to be enough. So this ones for you Mrs. Stan. You made me the happiest man alive.” He said raising his glass.

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“Hey Mrs. Sebastian Stan can you turn off the light?” said Seb as I walked out of the bathroom towards the bed. I stepped over the discarded white dress and black tux to flip the switch and then I slid into bed next to my husband. We laid on our sides facing each other just noses apart.

“Are you gonna call me that all night?” I asked.

“Of course I am! You’re finally my wife,” He smiled.

“I have been wanting that last name for a while,” I smirked sliding into bed next to him.

“Mrs. Sebastian Stan did you enjoy our wedding?” He asked ever so sweetly

“I don’t think a wedding planner could’ve done any better. I never wanted it to end,”

“I didn’t either,”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re on the same page my dear husband because the wedding night is just beginning!” I smiled pulling him into a kiss.

My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings. Happy you were mine, it sucks that it’s all ending

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“Can you pass me that pillow?” I asked holding a corner of my favorite blanket up on one of the dining room chairs.

Sebastian passed it over finishing his side and I smooshed the pillow on the blanket holding it in place.

“I’m gonna grab the snacks,” I said standing up and running to the pantry. When I got back Sebastian was already inside our little blanket fort.

I lifted up a blanket and slipped inside where he was sitting on our mattress.

“Did you get my peanut butter?” He asked.

“How could I ever forget,” I said holding it up. “I even grabbed my special touch.” I said holding up the bag of chocolate chip cookies we made earlier.

“God I love you,” He said grabbing the peanut butter while I snuggled into his side.

“I love you too baby,”

“So what are we watching?”

“Funny Girl?” I asked shyly. I had made him see it a thousand times.

“Again?”

“Seb I’m dying, like literally dying,” I whined knowing it always worked on him.

“You can’t keep using the ‘I have terminal cancer’ card! It’s not fair!” He laughed pulling up Funny Girl on the laptop. “This is the last time!”

“Okay last time I promise,” I said curling up with him opening the peanut butter.

That was a promise I intended to keep. I knew my time was coming soon. I could feel myself getting more and more tired everyday. As I laid there watching my favorite movie on Seb I felt my eyes water, simply because I wondered if this would be the last time I saw it. At least I finally got to be Sadie Sadie married lady just like Fanny.

I’m happy that you’re here with me I’m sorry if I tear up...

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I was laying in bed nose to nose with Seb after our movie. Bellies full from finishing a whole jar of peanut butter and cookies.

“What am I gonna do when I don’t have you here to make me watch Funny Girl or Meet Me in St. Louis” he stated.

“I’ll torment you from beyond the grave and make sure all the song’s get stuck in your head so you have no choice but to watch them,” I giggled.

“You are evil!” he said tickling my sides starting a war as I tried to break free from his hold.

When the tickle fights stopped we ended right where we started nose to nose in silence. We both ended up just staring at each other. Perhaps taking one another in. His eyes started to go glassy.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” He said breaking down into tears and pulling me towards him so he was crying into my chest.

It was times like this when my chin sat on his head and I could feel him crying that I wanted to cry with him. But I couldn’t I had to be strong for him. This time he was making it really hard. So I wrapped my arms around his head and ran my fingers through his hair.

“Shhhhh it’s okay I’m here baby. I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere for a while,” I cooed.

I couldn’t tell if I was talking to him or me. Conceivably both of us. As I tried to tell him that I wasn’t going anywhere I was trying to convince myself of the same thing. The thing is these days I’m just not sure anymore.

The phrase “You don’t have as much time as you think you do” was becoming very real right now and I wasn’t sure I would have enough time to bring Sebastian peace before I go.

...Mondays watched a movie. Soon you’ll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me.

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I woke up around 11 the next morning and rolled over to see Sebastian still sleeping. I tried to take a mental picture of how he looked. Snuggling the pillow with one arm, the other draped around me. Pretty eyelashes, deep breaths and hair going two different directions.

“Good morning,” he mumbled opening his eyes.

“Morning baby,” I said running my hand through his hair.

He pulled me towards him so I was laying on his chest.

“We should go walk around the city,” He started “I heard it was going to be a beautiful day. We could go grab some dinner and eat it in the park and maybe go to a show and eat at that ice cream shop you like with the frozen hot chocolate,”

My heart broke because I could tell this was a day he planned when he woke up at some random time last night. His midnight ideas were always his best and they were always the ones he was most excited about. Unfortunately I was super tired and weak today.

“I’m sorry baby. That sounds like the best day ever but I’m not feeling my best today. Maybe if I feel better though we can go out later tonight!” I said trying to give him a little something to hold on to.

“No I can tell you’re not feeling well. Let’s stay here so you can get some rest.” he said adjusting himself so he was more comfortable.

Within a few minutes I was asleep again.

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I woke up to an empty spot where Sebastian used to be.

“yeah man I’m sorry I know I’ve been slacking,”

I could hear him in the living room talking on the phone. It was Don calling him again to see if he was ever going to come back to the gym. I had tried to tell him I didn’t mind if he wanted to go, but he never listened. Ever since I stopped chemo he stopped going to workout with Don. He says its so he can spend more time with me but I wish he would still go. When I’m gone I want him to have something constant in his life that isn’t about me.

“I just can’t leave her man, she’s getting worse and worse every day. I feel like I only have a few more weeks left- Yeah I know call you if I need anything- thanks a lot man, bye,” he said hanging up the phone. I heard him walk towards the bedroom so I pretended to just have woken up.

“Hey baby,” I said with a fake stretch.

“Hey hun you slept good! It’s four o’clock!” he said sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Damn I was tired,” I said rubbing my eyes

“How about I make some dinner?” he asked moving a stray hair out of my face.

“That sounds good!”

“Alright doll I’ll go get started,” he said kissing my temple before he left.

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After our delicious spaghetti dinner we watched a movie of Sebs choice which ended up being When Harry Met Sally and then went to bed.

I woke up with the most energy I’ve had in a while. I immediately remembered Sebastian’s plan for yesterday and was hoping he would still be game today.

“Seba” I said softly running my finger down the bridge of his nose. “Seba wake up,”

He scrunched his nose as he always did when I woke him up this way and eventually opened his eyes.

“Babe lets go do all the things you planned yesterday! It’s only 9 o’clock we can still get breakfast!” I said excitedly.

“I don’t know y/n yesterday you couldn’t even get out of bed and now you have this burst of energy. Maybe we should stay in the apartment again.” He said stretching.

“Sebby please! Its so beautiful out and it’s supposed to rain the rest of week! I need out of this apartment!” I said dawning my best pair of puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, but you have to tell me if you’re not feeling good,” he surrendered.

I immediately jumped out of bed to start getting ready.

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We were walking in the park trying to find that perfect spot by the central park boat house. When we were almost there we saw a street performer who was doing a magic show and I just had to stop and watch. What I didn’t notice was Sebastian going back to the flower stand we passed on our way here. I turned around I saw him exchanging money for flowers. The man handed him a big bouquet of my favorite flowers, pink peonies and roses. I know he wanted to be smooth about giving them to me but I could help but get excited right away.

“Baby!” I exclaimed walking towards him. “What’s all this for?” I asked.

“What I can’t buy my wife flowers?” He smiled handing them to me.

“This is why I fell in love with you, the little things.” I said reaching up to give him a little kiss on the cheek.

We continued our walk towards our favorite spot. It’s the best picnic place in the park. A little area cut out of bushes and shrubs with a big oak tree you can lean against and watch the boats come in and out of the boathouse.

This is where we always had our picnics. He sat down and opened up the brown paper sac that we packed with bread, cheese, strawberries and of course wine. As we ate I leaned against him and watched life pass around me.

“You know, ever since the doctor told me I was dying I started noticing the timeline of everything around me.” I stated.

“Care to elaborate?” asked Seb.

“Well for example that butterfly over there will probably only live for a few more months, but that boat that couple is rowing in might be used for years and years to come.”

“What about me? How long do I have?”

I paused and sat up so I could face him.

“You’re going to do so many amazing things baby. You’re gonna get the Oscar I always wanted,” I said sincerely.

“How do you know?”

“I just do,”

The rest of our day was spent wondering around the park until we went to see The Phantom Of The Opera on broadway, my favorite and yet another surprise from Sebastian. We ended up going to Serendipity for frozen hot chocolate after.

“I don’t know why but I still cry every time I see that show,” I said taking another sip of my drink.

“It’s because you always sympathize with the phantom,” he said.

“I just feel bad for him,”

I looked outside and saw that it was pouring rain and I suddenly remembered something I’ve always wanted to do.

“Babe come on!” I said grabbing Sebastian’s hand and running outside.

“What are you doing? It’s pouring out here, you’re going to get sick! We gotta go back inside!” he said already trying to go back inside.

“No wait!” I yelled over the rain “I’ve always wanted to kiss someone in the rain, ya know like in the movies?”

“Well you should’ve started with that baby!” He said excitedly blue eyes lighting up.

He used his hand to push the wet hair out of my face and connected our lips. It was everything I wanted it to be. The lights of the city shown around us as we clung to each other and our wet clothes molded together. It was the picture perfect movie moment I had always wanted to live out.

Looking back that was probably the best last day I could’ve ever asked for.

The next morning was the definition of “you don’t have as much time as you think you do.”

I woke up way before Sebastian did, about 7 to be exact. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach that this was it. I took the time to memorize Sebastian's face one more time. Around 8 my thoughts were interrupted by Sebastian’s phone ringing. As he began to stir I looked over to see who it was. It was Don. Before he could ignore the call I leaned over his half asleep form and grabbed his phone so I could answer.

“Hi Don this is y/n!” I said trying to sound as chipper as possible. To which Don proceeded to ask if Sebastian would be coming into the gym today to start training for his next role as Bucky. Sebastian violently shook his head no.

“Yeah he’s coming! He’s making breakfast right now. I’m sure he’ll be over there in a little bit- Talk to you later Don, bye!” I said with a smile.

“Babe I really don’t wanna go to the gym today,” he groaned.

“I know baby but you’ve been skipping out for too long now. Will you please go? For me? I know you’ll feel so much better if you do,” I chimed.

“Okay, but only for you.” he said rolling out of bed to put on his gym clothes.

“I love you!” I said knowing it might be my last chance to say so.

“I love you too!” He said as he started walking to the kitchen.

It didn’t take long for him to grab a protein bar and tie his shoes.

“Hey Sebby?” I yelled from bed.

“Yes baby?” He said popping his head into the bedroom.

“Can you bring me a coffee on your way home?” I asked.

“Of course,” he smiled.

“Can I have a kiss?”

He walked over and gave me a short and sweet kiss. A kiss that was far too short.

“I love you so much Sebby! Don’t ever forget it!” I said

“I love you too darling,” He said with a smile.

That was the last time I ever saw him.

Once again I didn’t have as much time as I thought I did to soak all of him in and say goodbye. But this was the right thing to do.

As soon as the door closed I grabbed a pen and paper off his desk and began to write.

Sebby,

I’ve written this letter over and over again in my head but never had the courage to put it down on paper. I’ve never been able to get the words right and lord knows I won’t be able to now, but I’m gonna try. When I was a little girl I watched princess movies day and night. Every day I wondered if I’d ever find a prince of my own. I never really believed I would. Not till I met you. You gave me a love I thought only existed in fairytales or movies. You loved me so much and made every day I had left on this earth so amazing. I wish I could give that same gift back to you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I hope one day you can be that for someone else again. You deserve to get all the love you gave me back. Just a few things before I go. Always check your pockets for your headphones before you put them in the wash because I won’t be around anymore to buy you new ones. Make copies of your scripts because you always find a way to spill coffee all over them. The bandaids aren’t in the bathroom they’re in the first aid kit in the closet next to the iron. And above all, I love you so much Sebastian Stan and I always will no matter where I go. You will always be the love of my life. I’ve been all over the world, met so many people and done so many things and I would give them all away for one more moment with you because you, yes you Sebby, were my greatest adventure.

-I love you so much,

Y/N (Mrs. Sebastian Stan)

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I’ve never cried while writing a fic before but I definitely cried during this one. Please leave me a comment below on your thoughts they really help motivate me.

Would any one be interested in a short pt.2/ follow from Sebastian's perspective?

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #Bucky angst #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan angst

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thewarriorandtheking · 5 years ago

Text

Under The Mountain

The Warrior Queen: The Warrior and The King Book II Chapter 2. Under The Mountain

Warnings: None

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It was just past six bells the next morning when there was a soft knock on the door. Kaylea was sitting up in bed reading the daily reports on her handheld, she put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder to raise him.

“Who is it?” She asked, stashing her device.

“Some breakfast for you, my lady,” came a small voice.

Thorin gave her a quick glance and threw back the covers.

“One moment,” Kaylea called. She got up and pulled on her leggings and tunic, pulling the laces tight. Thorin picked up all his clothes he could find and disappeared into the bathroom. Kaylea went to open the door, moving Thorin’s boots to the side where they would be hidden. There were two Dwarf boys standing outside the door, one holding a large covered tray the other a tray with a tall euer and a pitcher of ale, with two mugs and glasses. Kaylea stepped aside so they could come in. Once they had put the trays down on the table they each drew themselves up importantly.

“Navi”, said the younger one. “Kraven,” said the older one. They both bowed. “At your service,” they said in unison.

“At yours and your family’s,” Kaylea replied politely, bowing back. “Kaylea Wolf.”

The two boys set about laying out the breakfast for two, giving her curious looks. Kraven could see she was very tall, but why did she need two breakfasts? Did her people always eat two? And everyone was talking about her and the king outside the gate yesterday.

Finally Navi could stand it no longer. “Are you the great warrior they tell so many tales about, my lady?’

Kaylea smiled. “I suppose I am.”

“Did you really kill a warg with your bare hands?” Navi asked, he found this tall woman a bit scary but he had heard the story many times and had always wanted to know if it was true.

Kaylea laughed. “I had to use my hands. My sword was stuck in another wargs head.” The two boys looked at each other. They obviously had a million questions but were being too polite to ask.

“Is there anything else you require, my lady?” Kraven asked gravely, poking Navi in the side.

“There is one thing,” Kaylea said, watching the two boys’ eyes go wide as Hector rose up from the foot of the bed. “This is Hector. Could you walk with him down to the gate and make sure nobody shoots him. He needs to go outside to hunt.”

Kaylea went to stand by the door as the boys led the way for her wolf, closing it behind them. As soon as she shot the bolt Thorin appeared in his underclothes, and headed over to inspect the breakfast fare. Kaylea surveyed the room, the bedclothes twisted and hanging off the bed, pillows and clothing strewn about. It was pretty obvious what had been going on in here, but maybe not to a couple of young boys.

Thorin took a seat, he poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Kaylea. They ate in silence for some time, having missed dinner the night before. At length Kaylea sat back in her chair, she reached her leg under the table to rest her foot on Thorin’s leg. He slowly ran his fingers down the top of her foot, then up her leg.

“So, who is your wife?” Kaylea asked.

Thorin sighed. “Shurri, one of the fairest princesses in the Seven Families. Her father was very eager to make the match, for obvious reasons. She took some convincing.” Kayea looked questioningly at him. “She is in love with a captain in her father’s guard whom her father would never permit her to marry, when I told her I was also in love with someone else she agreed to the match. It helped that her son will be king of Erebor.”

“But you are friends?”

Thorin nodded. “Yes, she has been a great asset in council and performs all the duties of a queen with grace. The marriage has made our kingdoms strong allies. We get along well enough, but there is no love between us.”

Kaylea smiled at him. “She must be warming up to you if she is carrying a second child.”

Thorin shook his head. “She is from a family of three, I am from a family of three, she believes it is good luck to have three children.” Thorin drained his coffee cup, looking suddenly tired. “We have only been together a half dozen times in the past ten years, she gives me five minutes when the time is right. We like each other well enough to get the job done.”

Ouch, Kaylea thought, though she was secretly pleased. “You do have an heir now, you could say no.”

Thorin chuckled. “You do not know her. She is as stubborn as I am,” he looked resigned. “And it is a good idea to have more than one child.”

She moved her foot to rub the inside of his thigh. “Well, she does not know what she is missing.”

Thorin looked at her through his lashes, he moved her foot between his legs, holding it there. “I save myself for you, my love,” he said. “Now, I am done talking about my wife.”

Kaylea smiled slyly at him, wondering again how she had managed to live without this man the last ten years. “Just one thing, since you are married now should I take these out?” She ran her fingers down one of her braids.

Thorin’s eyes flashed. “Certainly not! You are still my woman, even though we are not married...yet.” He leaned forward. “My relationship with the queen is no secret, and those who were here for the Battle of the Five Armies know who you are.” Thorin sat back in his chair, running his fingers up her leg again, smiling. “I hope you brought that blue dress, I must find an occasion for you to wear it.”

Kaylea chuckled. “I came prepared this time. I brought two dresses.”

It was late morning when Kaylea washed and dressed while Thorin went to his quarters to do the same. She traded her travelling tunic for the soft blue one that Thorin had admired the last time she was in Middle Earth, she left the ring he had given her on the chain around her neck. She took a few moments to catch up on her handheld. War was threatening to break out on the Dubari border, she needed to watch the situation carefully. If it happened she would have to leave in haste, but when Blackwolf had offered her this mission she had jumped at it, not wanting to turn down the opportunity to see Thorin. She had sent Pilot and her aide Aramsham to make contacts on Dubari, if things went according to plan she should be done before they came back. When Kaylea stepped out her door she was surprised to find a richly dressed Dwarf woman waiting for her. She had an air of importance about her as she looked Kaylea over appraisingly. Kaylea studied her closely, her hair, the shape of her eyes. This must be Thorin’s sister she thought to herself. Kaylea bowed low.

“Kaylea Wolf, at your service, my lady,” she said. “I assume you are Princess DIs?”

“You presume right,” the Dwarf replied. She looked Kaylea up and down again, shaking her head. “So here you are, the famous warrior woman who stole my brother’s heart. I have been telling him to give you up for ten years, now I see why he cannot.”

“My heart belongs to him as well, your highness” Kaylea replied seriously. “I apologize if I caused any scandal at the gate yesterday, I assure you that was not my intention.”

Dis waved her hand dismissively. “That was on the king. He should have waited until you were inside and greeted you properly,” she gave Kaylea another appraising glance. “Although it looks like he also took care of that.”

The look she gave her was so sharp Kaylea almost checked to make sure her tunic was laced up, but she knew it was. None of the bite marks were visible.

“And you are wearing his braids!” Dis exclaimed, shaking her head again. “Why not just go ahead and marry him, girl?”

Kaylea smiled. “He has asked me more than once, I have refused him. I have no words for how much I love your brother, but I cannot be his queen. I have many obligations in my own land, I cannot remain in Middle Earth. I cannot bear children, which is a queen’s first duty and, as the son of Durin, his children must be of pure blood to avoid any challenges to his successors. I told him to marry a Dwarf princess and raise a family, I know you may find this hard to believe but I hoped he would find love with the mother of his children. If he had I would have stepped aside, it would not have been easy, but I would have done it. And I am quite sure you have already heard all of this.”

Dis looked at her, this time approvingly. “Yes, but not from your own mouth. I hear the truth in your words,” she replied. “And I must thank you for saving my brother’s life, I understand he would not have survived his injuries without your medicines.” She paused. “You would not happen to have any more of that youth potion you used on him?”

Kaylea laughed. I like her, she thought to herself. “I do not. And it is merely a medicine we use to heal injuries in my land, I had no idea it would have such a strong effect on a Dwarf.” Kaylea grew serious again. “If you have a moment, may ask you about the queen? Is she popular with the people?”

“Yes. She is pretty and generous and smart, a perfect queen in almost every way. She is very popular with her subjects.”

“Then I will encourage Thorin to be discreet. I have no wish to undermine her, she is the one who must live in Erebor.”

Dis smiled at her. “The fact the king and queen do not love each other is well known to all, it does not affect their popularity. Many remember you, your actions at the Battle of the Five Armies and on the way to Rivendell are told and retold in story and song. Now that I have set eyes on you myself I can see that you would be hard to forget.” She put a hand on Kaylea’s arm. “If you want to be discreet you are going to have to take out those braids and my brother will not stand for that, I am sure.”

Before Kaylea could answer she looked up and saw Thorin approaching accompanied by a couple of guards. He was wearing a richly embroidered emerald green shirt and vest with a wide silver belt, looking every inch a king. His fine features and short beard had always set him a bit apart from the other Dwarves, now that he was also so young and tall he looked even more different. Kaylea lowered herself on one knee and Dis bowed as he approached, Thorin nodded his acknowledgement. He stepped forward, giving his sister a dark look and offering Kaylea his hand.

“Are you ready for a tour of my restored kingdom, my lady?” He asked.

She set her hand in his and let him lead the way. As soon as they were out of earshot Thorin asked. “What were you two talking about?”

“You,” Kaylea replied, with a sly smile.

Erebor was much changed since the last time Kaylea had walked the halls. In the days after the dragon it had been a dark and empty place, now it buzzed with life, the halls filled with light and the citizens going about their business. In the residential areas there were Dwarves coming off their shifts in the mines, others delivering groceries and laundry, children on their way to school. In the wider streets were many shops filled with goods of every description. All the Dwarves bowed low to Thorin as he passed, some of the men caught Kaylea’s eye and nodded at her. No doubt, those who remembered her from the great battle. Thorin smiled at all his subjects, stopping occasionally to speak to individuals - asking women about their husbands, inquiring the price of some item, or handing out coins to the children. Kaylea watched him, impressed with how easily he wore the mantle of king. And he was obviously enormously popular with his subjects. Kaylea was careful to keep a bit of distance between them as they walked. It was one thing for her and Thorin to carry on in private, quite another to do it in front of his subjects. They had not talked about it in advance but Thorin seemed to sense what she was doing and kept himself at arm’s length, only occasionally moving close to put a hand on her back or hold her hand. Knowing her interest in engineering matters, Thorin pointed out all the improvements they had made to the city and Kaylea wanted to see the work in some areas, going down hidden halls and climbing on equipment to get a better idea of what had been done.

Thorin bought apples for them and the guards at a stand in one of the markets. The shopkeeper tried to give them to him, but he insisted on paying. They ate them as they headed to the forges.

“It seems to be all Dwarves in the city,” Kaylea remarked. The city could obviously house many more people. “Is all commerce with other races done in Dale?”

Thorin nodded. “We keep Erebor to ourselves. There are some from Dale who work here, but we keep all the traders away. That way we can control prices for our folk.”

Kaylea nodded. They came then to the forges, all of them lit and Dwarves busy making swords, armor and down at the far end, fine silver ornaments. Kaylea noticed a rack of sword blades with the same single-edged, curved design as her own. She lifted one off the rack, swinging it by the tang. The balance was excellent.

“Your contribution to the wealth of Erebor,” Thorin explained, watching her. “Those swords are much sought after, they hold their edge much better than those that are made traditionally. And we use thrice-forged steel, not as good as the one you gave me but a big improvement on what we were making.”

Kaylea put the blade back on the rack, shaking her head. She should have known the first thing Thorin would do with the sword she gave him was try to replicate it. Only that steel did not exist in Middle Earth.

Kaylea saw one of the biggest changes in the treasury. Gone were the giant bins of coin, in their place were a series of strongrooms with gold bars stacked to the ceilings.

“This was your best idea, my love,” Thorin told her. “Taking the coin out of circulation increased the value fifty percent, and it is so much easier to manage this way. Strange we never thought of doing it before.”

Kaylea smiled at him. “Perhaps because it is a bit harder to admire this way.”

Thorin frowned at her. “My grandfather used to spend days down here, just looking at his treasure. I did too, when I first returned.” He shook his head, smiling. “After I recovered from my wounds I found I never think about it anymore. Just as I never wear that crown anymore.”

“That is a good thing, my king,” Kaylea said. “They are only tools and symbols, they do not make you who you are.”

The next morning Thorin suggested they take a ride up Ravenhill. It was a beautiful day, the warm sun accompanied in the sky by a few wispy clouds, new leaves turning all the trees bright green, the smell of new grass in the air. Thorin’s horse was a pretty little bay mare, with the graceful curved neck and short back of a horse bred in the west of Rohan. They were sure-footed and swift, made for life in the rocky hills of that part of the land. Kaylea was impressed with her conditioning, she was barely blowing after a swift climb up the steep side of Ravenhill. Thorin looked very comfortable on her back, Kaylea had not realized he was such an accomplished horseman.

The two of them dismounted and stood side by side, the land laid out before them. The rain during the night had washed the air clean and they could see for many miles. The Iron Hills were just visible in the distance, the Long Lake and the land beyond stretching away to the south.

“That is where we will be riding soon,” Thorin said, nodding towards the lands past the lake.

“Where I will be riding, my king,” Kaylea replied. “You will be staying here where you belong.”

“I belong with you,” Thorin replied. He reached up to touch the side of her face. “Now that I see you again after all this time, I know that better than ever.” Thorin looked out over the land, a faraway look in his eyes. “For years I dreamed of nothing but reclaiming Erebor, now I have done that. My line is secure, my kingdom prospers, I have all that my grandfather had and more, all that a Dwarf my age could want. I should be content, but I am not. Whatever magic you used to heal my injuries has made me young again, I find myself again with a young man’s dreams. Adventure, risk, freedom from responsibilities, sometimes I feel the life of a king is crushing me.”

Kaylea was looking into the distance. She said something in a strange language, when she looked at Thorin she saw his questioning glance.

“It is a saying among my people. When you have been too long in one place and want to travel we say you have ‘itchy feet’”.

Thorin chuckled. “I like that! Yes, I have itchy feet. They itch to be on the road again, to be on an adventure, see new things and do some fighting.” He looked at Kaylea. “If the Dark Lord is rebuilding his power, I would like to see that for myself.”

“It is a dark and dangerous road, my king. We must travel for days through empty lands, and when we reach Mordor I do not know what we will find. The forces of the enemy for certain, of what manner and how many I cannot say.” She looked over at Thorin to find him smiling at her.

“If you are trying to convince me not to go, you are not doing a very good job,” he said. ”I have not always lived a life of comfort and ease, I remember well the trials of life in the Wild. Perhaps I have not trained as hard as I should but the forces of the enemy do not frighten me.”

“They should, my king.”

Thorin took her hand, interlacing her fingers with his. He wrapped his arm over hers to bring her close, kissing the back of her hand. “I fear nothing when you are next to me.”

It was two evenings later that Thorin asked Kaylea if she would dress for dinner. A group of Elves from Lorien had arrived unexpectedly that day, the first visit to Erebor of the Fair Folk from that land and he wanted to show them some Dwarvish hospitality. Kaylea was surprised but glad they had come since she could get much information from them about the lands to the South, where she would soon ride. The dress she chose to wear was the more formal of the two she had brought with her. It was pale silver silk gathered in silver clasps on top of her shoulders that left her arms bare. A second piece of fabric flowed between the clasps over her back to the floor, covering the cutaway back. The drape of the dress was such that it managed to appear modest and revealing at the same time. Kaylea had swept her hair up, the silver beads and Thorin’s ring were the only ornaments she wore.

Thorin had said he would meet her outside the reception hall and he was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, wanting to see what she was wearing. Kaylea smiled when she saw him, he was also wearing silver. A thin silver high-collared shirt, topped with a darker silver fur-trimmed vest over his black breeches and boots. Kaylea thought he looked devastatingly handsome.

Thorin gave a low whistle when he saw her, regarding her hungrily as she came down the stairs.

“You did come prepared,” he said, a finger tracing the plunging neckline of her dress. Kaylea put her hands inside his vest, feeling his body under his shirt.

“You look good enough to eat,” she told him, drawing him close to kiss him. Time always seemed to stop when they were kissing each other and it was a long moment before they pulled back.

Thorin ran his fingers over her neck, down the front of her dress. “I have such jewels with which I would adorn your neck,” he sighed. “Tiaras of spun gold, light as spiderweb. It is my curse that I fall in love with the only woman in the world with no interest in jewelry.” He reached into his tunic for a leather pouch. “But I believe I have the perfect thing for that dress.”

Kaylea looked at him as she undid the strings of the pouch. “I have no occasion to wear jewelry in my own country, my king.” She reached into the pouch and pulled out a silver necklace. At first glance it looked like a heavy silver chain but as she ran her fingers along it she could see it was four strands spun loosely together, where they parted tiny sapphires flashed, seemingly suspended between them. Kaylea stared at it, amazed. Thorin smiled, he did not like to think about how long it had taken to make but her reaction was worth it. He took it from her and stepped behind her to fasten it, giving her a kiss on the side of her neck.

Kaylea put a hand on the necklace. “Once again you give me something of which I feel unworthy.”

Thorin leaned to the side to look at her, surprised. “Unworthy? How can you not be worthy?”

Kaylea sighed. “Something this fine should be for a woman who can wear it daily at your side, I feel I repay you poorly for such magnificent gifts.”

Thorin gave her a curious look. “That is your choice, not mine. We cannot decide who we want to fall in love with, but we do choose what to do afterward,” he would have gone on, but Balin appeared out of the Hall, looking for the king.

“What is keeping you...oh!” He gave Kaylea a startled look and then bowed low. “Good evening, my lady. I must say you look rather stunning.”

“Good evening, Master Balin!” Kaylea replied. “Thank you. We will be right behind you.” Thorin offered her his arm and they went into the hall. Kaylea had questioned him about whether it was appropriate for them to walk in together, since he was now a married man. Thorin brushed her concerns aside saying he was the King and he would have dinner with whoever he pleased. While Thorin was technically right, she did not think it very wise. However, the party would just be Dwarves close to Thorin who already knew and the Elves, who would not care. The servants would gossip, but it was not like she was sitting on a throne next to him in the Hall of Kings.

The reception hall was a smaller, more welcoming place than the Great Hall. There were fires burning in the big fireplaces and many places to sit, along the walls or in comfortable chairs by the fires. It was decorated with swords and shields from all Seven Kingdoms, and several large tapestries depicting events from the Battle of the Five Armies. Kaylea swept the room with her eyes, she saw Balin, Gloin, Fili, Dis and several other Dwarf women who were likely their wives, Dori and two other Dwarves she did not recognize. There was a group of four golden-haired Elves standing by the fire drinking from long stemmed glasses, one looked over and smiled at Kaylea as she came in with the King.

Thorin guided her around the room introducing her to the Dwarves she had not met, one hand on her back or his arm around her waist. There could be no question of the understanding between them.

As they approached the party of Elves Balin came over to make the introductions, but the Elf who had smiled at Kaylea stepped forward to greet her with an amused smile. “Kaylea Wolf, you turn up in the most surprising places!” He said, looking pointedly at her dress. “And looking so ravishing. I was not aware you owned any clothes that were not black.”

Thorin burst out laughing at this. Kaylea laughed too. “Thank you, Haldir. It is also quite surprising to see the Fair Folk in the halls of Erebor. What happened, you forget how to make knives?”

Haldir laughed. “Ever since Durin’s Folk returned to the Lonely Mountain we have been considering opening trade between our kingdoms, they have been too long estranged. We came to Dale on other business and thought we would request an audience with the King.” He inclined his head to Thorin, who nodded politely back. “But you must tell me what brings you here, you never seem to arrive with glad tidings.”

Kaylea nodded gravely. “It seems that is never my task.”

Just then dinner was called and they all went through to the dining hall. Thorin sat at the end of the table, Fili on his left. Dis sat in what would be the queen’s seat at the other end. Kaylea was seated a few seats down the table from Thorin, next to the Elves, which gave her a chance to ask Haldir about the route she would soon be travelling. They spent much of the meal in deep conversation about the disposition of the lands between Erebor and Mordor.

Thorin watched Kaylea closely throughout the dinner. Mostly he liked looking at her in that dress, but he found it interesting that she and the Elves treated each other as equals. She did not hold them in awe, as so many in Middle Earth did and Haldir seemed to have genuine respect for her. Thorin made a mental note to ask her about it.

Kaylea felt Thorin’s eyes on her many times during the evening, and would often look over to meet his gaze. She did wish she could have sat next to him, but this was more appropriate, and they would be together later anyway. At one point during the evening Kaylea noticed Thorin had undone a couple of buttons on his shirt, as the room was quite warm. After that every time she looked at him all she could think about was unbuttoning the rest and taking that shirt off.

The adventures of The Warrior and The King also on AO3 & FanFiction, links on my homepage (author is akdogdriver). Now also on Wattpad.

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