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speechlessxx · 4 years ago

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my house of stone, your ivy grows & now i’m covered in you.

{King!Steve Rogers x noblewoman!Reader}

with a side of Prince/King!Peter Parker x Reader

ROYALTY/MEDIEVAL AU

summary -> engaged to the Prince of Arachnia, the young maiden finds her heart calling out the name of another.

warnings-> infidelity. age gap! (reader’s age isn’t explicitly said but she’s younger than Steve). poorly & awkwardly written SMUT. (includes: unprotected sex, brief fingering, slight breeding kink). rambles. angst. fluff. lots of tension. bittersweet ending :)

A/N -> for smut part, please scroll if you are not 18+. MINORS DNI

word count -> 12k+ !!! this one’s a lengthy one & i had no intentions of turning it into a series. it just got long.

Buy Me A Kofi

At the ripe age of five-years-old, you were plucked from your childhood, abandoning all the childish whims and adventures to be groomed to be the perfect wife. No more rolling in the dirt with your older brothers or mucking about the stables with the horses or fencing with sticks that substituted the steel bladed swords.

It all quickly became sewing needles and recipes, cleaning and books balanced on your crown.

You were taught it all.

How to behave. How to stand or sit. How to greet and host. How to exist in silence because “a lady is to be seen and never heard,” as your teacher, Madam Morris, would say. The many lessons were engraved into your mind while the meaningless tasks and skills became muscle memory.

Be pious. Be kind. Smile. Be what your husband wants. Laugh. (no, not like that). Do as your husband says. Be interesting but not too much. Never overshadow your husband. Don’t disappoint or you will bring shame upon your family.

What a burden to place on the shoulders of a young teen though it was expected of you. Coming from an aristocratic family, it was all you ever knew: “get a husband and make us proud”.

As the years droned on and you approached adulthood, the pressure to marry became more and more prominent. And when you shed past your teen years as an unmarried young adult, the disappointment and shame began to show. Your family throwing distaste your way with snide remarks and mocking smirks.

The embarrassment felt as if it had been painted across your cheeks and you grew restless, convincing yourself to accept any opportunities of marriage just to be rid of their cruelty.

So, when the Prince of Arachnia arrived at your father’s estate and asked for permission to court you, you had no choice but to accept.

Prince Peter Benjamin Parker was nothing short of the perfect gentleman. As you walked, he’d ensure that you were safely tucked into his side opposite of the streets. He’d hold your hand steady as you exited carriages. He’d leave chaste kisses on your forehead or knuckles – almost always on your left ring finger – even though your chaperone would throw a disapproving glance his way.

You thought of him as charming with his tousled, dark brown curls with matching eyes that squinted as he smiled or laughed harder than he intended.

“He would make a great king someday,” your father would sing his praises. “And you, my dove, will be his fine queen.”

You were never fond of these comments, never finding any appreciation or gratitude when they were uttered to you. Though the thought of being queen would make any young girl giddy with excitement, you found an odd sensation of dread within you.

You weren’t sure where the feelings had originated from. Were you nervous about being a queen? About the responsibility of running not only an estate but an entire country as well? Or was it the fact you would forever be labeled as his queen rather than the queen? Did you detest the idea of belonging to another person for the rest of your life?

“Are you alright?” His voice brought you back into the present. You swallowed as you turned away from the window facing the garden of roses that your mother was so proud of to face the prince. You curtseyed although he’s told you many times it was unnecessary.

“I’m grand,” you lied with a weary smile though he bought it all the same.

Peter grinned a toothy smile as he took your hand in his. It was then you felt the weight of the engagement ring on your finger. The sapphire blue was an oval shape, large enough to cover the skin of your knuckle. The center jewel adorned a halo of smaller diamonds. All this sitting on the delicate white gold band that wrapped around your finger like a shackle.

He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss upon the sapphire. “I shall be counting down the days,” he whispered in the quiet room. You forced another smile and nodded.

“As will I.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

Arachnia wasn’t a large country nor was it tiny either. It had eight main roads that extended into the towns with the capital and its palace in the center. It had been said that the main roads were all equal in length so that everyone was at an equal distance from the palace though you weren’t so sure that there was truth to this. Your father’s estate sat near the south of Arachnia, in one of the nicer towns. The ride to Peter’s real home felt like an eternity.

It had been his idea, of course, that you be brought to the palace months ahead of the wedding. “Life in the castle is different to life in the towns,” he told you before, weeks into your courtship, “Everyone’s always watching.” He reasoned that the prying eyes needed to get used to the presence of his future queen, but you understood it all the same – that although it was crucial that you adjust to court, it was equally, if not more so, important that the court adjust to you.

“I will give you the grand tour,” he said as you put your head on his shoulder. The journey, although short, had picked at your energy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and sleep, but his excited chatter kept pulling you back into consciousness. As much as you wanted to tell him to pipe down, you knew you couldn’t. Not only was he your husband to be, but he was also your soon to be king. “There’s fountains and gardens – I had them plant roses like the ones in your mother’s – “

The words became muddled nonsense as you slowly dozed off. The journey and your sleepless night, picking at the skin on your fingers, had finally caught up to you, making your eyelids heavy with sleep.

You jolted awake as the carriage hit a bump. You and Peter’s head slammed into each other, waking you both. You groaned, rubbing the spot as he mirrored you.

“You alright?” Peter asked you. You nodded, still rubbing the spot. Peter leaned over and kissed it and you gave him a tight-lipped smile. “You’ve been rather quiet. Is there something on your mind?”

You shook your head. “No, your highness,” you said. “I am just a bit nervous, is all.”

“Don’t be.” Peter chuckled. “The kingdom will fall in love with you just as I have.”

“And if they do not? Shall you find another bride?”

Peter’s smile faltered before shaking his head. “Those who do not immediately fall for my queen are mad and I shall find them the greatest court physician to treat their delusions.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You placed your head against his and took in a shaky breath.

There it was again. My queen. Another reminder that you no longer belonged to yourself. That as soon as vows are exchanged and he places another band on top of the enormous ring you already wore, you were completely his to own.

And suddenly that sweet moment, wrapped in your fiancé’s arms, was cut short as that familiar feeling of dread washed over you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

After weeks following your arrival in the center of Arachnia, it still didn’t feel like your home, rather it was Peter’s. The maids didn’t follow your orders nor did the kitchen staff. Heavens knows that the knights and the other noblemen wouldn’t acknowledge you. It felt as if no one knew your name, save for Prince Peter and his aunt, Lady May Parker.

You were merely a stranger in their court, the soon to be king’s guest.

Although the preparations for Peter’s coronation should’ve been your duty, Lady Parker seized the job, citing that you weren’t the queen just yet. “Let me alleviate you of this, Lady (Y/N).” She told you with a smile. “After your marriage, I shall step aside and allow you all the duties as the lady of the castle.” And in many ways, you were grateful that this was not your responsibility for the coronation of Prince Peter Parker had been long awaited for.

After Peter’s uncle, King Benjamin, passed and with Peter’s father long gone before then, the young prince was suddenly eyed to be the king. However, the councilmen thought that the boy was too young – too green to be king. They waited years until Peter came of age and once he finally did, they refused a peaceful transition of power. Instead, there were harsh rumors that the kingdom would be handed to Brooklyn’s King.

This debacle led to rumors of unrest and threats of civil war. It felt as if the entire continent held its breath as it stared at Arachnia, waiting for the violence to begin.

If King Anthony of Starken and Lady Parker did not intervene, then there would’ve been lives lost and a country torn. An agreement was made between House Parker and their council: that before Peter may take the throne, he must either be married or engaged, so that the line of succession may be secured.

And with your presence and Peter’s sapphire ring, the crown became his in an instant.

Nearly three weeks before his coronation, lords and ladies along with royals from other countries flocked to Arachnia to celebrate its king.

Lady Parker and Prince Peter introduced you to so many people in the coming days that none of their names truly stuck. All except one.

King Steven Rogers of Brooklyn.

The tall, broad man strode through the castle halls. His royal blue clothes made his eyes pop in the daylight. You thought he was beautiful. His presence demanded attention and he walked with a knowing smirk. Cocky. Arrogant. You profiled as he stood in front of Peter, towering over him.

Peter, still a prince, bowed to him as you did. “You’re younger than I expected.” The King’s voice was contradicting to his loud presence. His tone was even and steady like soft currents of a river or the expert strokes of a painter upon a canvas. You didn’t realize he was speaking to you until Peter called your name.

“King Steven, allow me to introduce my bride to be, Lady (Y/N).” Peter’s brow glistened with sweat though he stood tall. He was nervous. You could tell by the way his pitch was higher than it usually was. Under the king’s eye, he felt inferior. Insecure, even. Because although Peter was charming and slender, King Steven was intimidatingly handsome and built. Peter looked like a prince whereas Steven exuded the confidence of the king and looked like it, too.

You knew of the history between Brooklyn and Arachnia. There had been rumors that if Prince Peter could not get the crown, that the entire country would become part of Brooklyn’s, part of this other king’s domain.

“It’s a pleasure, my lady,” the king smiled at you and your eyes rounded as butterflies erupted from your stomach. He took your hand in his and you felt goosebumps rise all over your skin. A nervous, ragged breath escaped you as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss upon your knuckles like Peter’s done a million times.

But your reaction was different. Your face went hot, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You could feel it between your legs, a feeling you had never felt before. Pulsing. Throbbing.

King Steven’s hand lingered over yours for a few seconds more, thumb grazing your skin and over the sapphire. You suddenly felt embarrassed – as beautiful as the ring was, it was so large that it looked odd on your dainty hand.

“Beautiful ring,” he complimented with a nod to Peter. “Excellent taste.” It wasn’t clear if the king was complimenting the ring or the young woman who wore it and no one dared question such a distinguished man.

You pulled your hand away from his with a bow of your head. You couldn’t look him in the eye for a second more. “Thank you for joining us, your majesty.”

The king smiled at your fiancé before nodding. “I look forward to your coronation, Peter. I’m sure it’ll be a pleasant event.”

You forced a smile as you and your fiancé greeted the next guest. The pleasantries and introductions fell upon deaf ears because as you looked up, searching through the crowd, your eyes immediately found his already staring back at you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

It felt as if there was a party every single day. A festival in the courtyard. A feast every night. You began to wonder where was all this money coming from – were the people being taxed heavily for the enjoyment of the upper class? Lady Parker assured you that Arachnia was well funded and that where the expenses exceeded their budget, they were handled by King Anthony, who considered it an early marriage present.

You sat like a decorated ornament next to Peter, surrounded by the other royals at a round table. You felt out of place in a gown made from your town’s finest tailor whereas the queens and princesses around you wore one-of-a-kind pieces. You were reminded, again, that you were just an aristocrat’s daughter, the fiancé of a king sitting among the men and women that bards wrote songs about.

You felt as if you were set to be the butt of the joke in another round of ridicule as King Anthony drew his attention from teasing Peter to you.

“You,” he began, words a bit slurred due to the ale in his overflowing cup, “are very gorgeous. My love,” he directed to his wife, Queen Virginia, “don’t you agree?”

“Yes, you are a delight, Lady (Y/N).” The strawberry blonde smiled at you. You returned the smile, timidly.

“Likewise, your majesty,” you returned before nodding your head to the rest of the table. “All of you are wonderful.” Truthfully, many of their names went over your head and to save yourself the embarrassment, you refrained from calling any of them by name, only saying simple titles like your majesty and my lord or lady.

“Lady (Y/N),” the princess from the foreign land, Sokovia you think, called your attention. You believe her name was Wanda, or at least that was what the King of Hawksview called her. “Are you excited for whatever adventures marriage will bring you?” Her tone was drunk and teasing. It was clear what she was alluding to though you weren’t quite sure if you caught on.

“Oh, dear,” Peter chuckled, awkwardly, obviously understanding. His face a beet red as he patted your hand that sat on your lap. “Dove, you do not need to answer.”

“Dove?” King Steven, the one man you knew by name, questioned from across the round table. He sat directly in front of you and you swore he sat there deliberately.

“It’s what my father calls me,” you explained though your voice was a bit scratchy, your throat dry. You coughed before taking a sip from your barely touched ale, finding the taste quite revolting. You shifted uncomfortably in the seat as you felt the prying eyes of the Brooklyn King stare through you as if you were glass.

“Dove.” He repeated, trying the petname out. “Sweet. Innocent.”

“Oh, you stop teasing, Steve,” the woman with dark red hair rolled her eyes. You remembered her being called Nat though you did remember her from your history lessons. Queen Natalia Romanova of Widow’s Peak, the queen who paved the way for women on the battlefield. She was revered and you were in awe when you met her.

“If we’re teasing, shall we jest about how Steven has yet to marry?” The prince from Asgard laughed. He pushed his long black hair over his shoulder as his older brother, the blonde – the King – swatted at his forearm with the back of his hand as if to say be quiet.

Steven smirked, eyes shifting to his lap, before chuckling. “Laugh and tease all you want,” he said, grabbing his cup and bringing it to his lips.

“Why is it you haven’t married?” Queen Natasha’s husband, Bruce – you think – asked.

Attention shifted back to Brooklyn’s king as he shrugged, taking another swig from his cup. His eyes darted around the table as if gaging – studying – the group.

You found it odd. Many of the royals around you considered the others their closest friends, yet here he was, a mystery to them still. It was as if he was content with going unseen and unheard. You could understand.

“C’mon, Stevie,” King Anthony taunted with a pet name. The blonde’s jaw tensed for a moment but quickly released. You frowned at that – was there tension between the two kings? “Handsome, wealthy king with vast holdings and a powerful kingdom, yet no marriage? It’s like you’re not trying, Steven.”

The Brooklyn king chuckled again, brows lifting with an amused look. His eyes met yours and you felt your face go hot again. Your gown shifted underneath the table as your knee bumped Peter’s when you crossed your legs. He looked away.

“I would not get married simply because I need a crown,” his eyes shifted to Peter before shifting back to his cup, “or I need an alliance, or my country requires finances or resources. Brooklyn’s striving under my rule.” He said it so calmly and smugly as if he weren’t throwing condescending comments about his friends’ marriages right in front of them.

“If I were to get married,” Steven’s ocean eyes met yours again like the waves crashing into a shore, “it would be because I’m in love.”

You shifted in your seat, that pulsing, throbbing ache returning as you held his stare. You bit your lip before nervously breaking the eye contact to pick at the bread roll on your plate.

You suddenly jumped when Peter draped his arm around your shoulder, completely unaware that he was about to do so, too preoccupied to appear occupied. He shot you a worried glance, but you gave him a tight smile and a nod.

“Well, I, for one,” he smiled, “am marrying for love.” Peter pressed a kiss to your temple, and you felt your smile drop for a second. Just a mere second – maybe even less.

No one noticed, you assured yourself with a relieved exhale. You scanned the round table to find that everyone smiled at you and your fiancé with dopey grins, staring at the two children in love. However, Steven’s was different.

No… The king had a knowing smirk on his face as if to say, I saw.

»————-　⚜　————-«

With the coronation in a fortnight, you and Peter found yourselves on edge. Your shoulders always felt tense which left an ache in your neck, leaving you to rub out the knots but to no avail.

Peter’s nerves made him jittery. During meals, his leg bounced up and down with nerves. The sudden movement often shaking the table, leaving you in an annoyed silence. To cope with his pending coronation nerves, the young prince whisked himself into meaningless tasks and hobbies in hopes to distract himself.

Unfortunately, this meant that he often left you to yourself, leaving you to dwell in your unease on your own.

You confided in Lady Parker about your nerves though she returned your concern with a small frown. “You aren’t getting coronated, why are you nervous?” She chuckled dismissively. You nearly snapped then but was able to stop yourself before saying anything offensive to Lady Parker.

Deciding that your thoughts were better left unsaid, you isolated yourself in the stairwell on the south wing of the castle. In your time here at Arachnia, this quickly became your favorite spot. The south wing was nowhere near the bustling crowds of guests and their parties, making it the quietest place in the castle at times. There was a wide window that stood above the stairs; it brought in gorgeous sunlight and you often found yourself basking in its warmth.

However, with your troubled thoughts, the south wing stairwell’s window brought you no comfort at all as you gnawed on the bump on the inside of your cheek. It was a habit you picked up when you were being taught to be a lady – a lady is to be seen and never heard – so you opted to biting back your opinions and retorts, whether it be physical or metaphorical.

Though Lady Parker was right, the coronation was Peter’s worry alone, it would not only be Peter that would be judged and watched by the entire continent the moment that crown is on his head. Even now as a mere lady, the fiancé of their soon to be king, you were burdened with such scrutiny and you were sure that this would only increase three-fold once Peter was crowned king.

The pressures would only worsen once you were dubbed Peter’s queen.

So, you sat pensively in your thoughts near the top of the stairs as you enjoyed the last few months of peace you had left.

“For an engaged woman, I do find you alone too many times,” a voice took you from your thoughts as it carried through the empty stairwell. You looked up and met the amused smirk of King Steven Rogers.

You stood up from your spot and found your footing at the top of the staircase before you curtseyed. “Your majesty,” you greeted.

“Most brides tend to cling to their fiancé, fighting to be by their side every waking moment,” the king mused, quirking an eyebrow up, “but not you.”

“I suppose.”

“May I?” He gestured to the unoccupied seat next to you. You bit your lip before nodding, sitting down again, but this time with the king’s warmth next to you. “Is something on your mind, Lady (Y/N)?”

“No, your majesty,” you said a bit too quickly and he saw through you.

He tutted, knowingly. “I know a troubled lady when I see one,” he pressed. “Please, my lady, speak freely as if I am just a friend.”

“I hadn’t realized I was friends with a king,” you muttered. You felt his eyes on you as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and stared at your lap.

The conversation stilled as the silence built, but you found comfort in the king’s presence. Although his eyes made you uneasy and nervous, he brought you a strange sense of peace.

His soft chuckle pulled you from your thoughts again. “Lady (Y/N).” He said your name and you glanced over at him with a brow cocked up. “I noticed that you don’t speak, not often, at least.”

“I was taught to never speak unless spoken to.”

He scoffed. “That’s a habit that you’ll grow out of.” He saw confusion flash through your expression and smiled, gently. “A strong, respected queen demands attention as she enters a room. Every step she takes must be a stride of confidence so that no one ever questions her status.”

“A status that my husband, the king, gives me. I cannot over-step. I would undermine him.”

“Peter’s a king,” Steven corrected. “I never said you would over-step, but a true king would ensure that he and his queen are in equal footing.” He cocked his head to the side as he noticed your grimace. “You don’t like that.”

“I beg your pardon?” You asked before quickly added, “your majesty.”

“Being called his queen,” he clarified with a smile.

Panicked, you began, “I am humbled to wear his ring on my finger – that he considered me for marriage and that – “

“You are not on trial,” he interrupted, quickly with a laugh. “It’s merely an observation.” You nodded, awkwardly. “In my opinion, I feel as if a marriage – any marriage, whether royal or otherwise – is a partnership, but unfortunately, many see it as an ownership.”

“That’s just not how our society sees it.” You muttered with a shake of your head.

“Where is your fiancé? It’s too often that I find you alone. I shall share a word with him about his manners.” He joked and you laughed lightly at his attempt to lighten the mood.

You sighed, fidgeting with the sapphire on your finger. “He’s … preoccupied.”

Steve frowned at that but abruptly stood, stretching his hand out to you. “Then, come, my lady, I shall escort you to the festival to enjoy this beautiful day.”

Your hands flew to your face as you shook your head, defiantly. “Oh, god no!” You groaned. He amusedly raised his eyebrows at you. “I hate leaving the castle to join the others… Everyone just stares at me. It’s unsettling!”

Steve laughed and leaned down to pull you to your feet. Although you stood at the top of the staircase and he a few steps beneath you, he was still taller than you.

“They’re admiring their future queen,” he tried. He took your hands in his and you felt a shiver run down your spine as the goosebumps rose. “And from where I stand, I must say, she is truly a vision… Even if she’s moping.”

The butterflies didn’t cease to exist as they fluttered excitedly under his stare. You bit your lip and avoided eye contact, staring at your hands clasped in his. His words lifted your confidence, but his presence made you nervous and you didn’t quite understand why.

He whispered your name; fingers reaching out beneath your chin and lifted your chin. Blue eyes staring deep into your wide ones and for a split second he glanced down at your lips.

“You can tell me to stop.”

He was so close to you. Your noses were nearly touching.

“What if I don’t want you to?” You whispered. You held your breath, but he gladly stole it as he pressed his soft, plump lips onto yours.

You swore it was almost instinct… It had to be. You moved in sync. With your lips pressed against his, you felt this feeling of belonging – something you hadn’t felt in all your time in the palace of Arachnia, in all your life. In all your time spent with Peter, it never felt like this.

Your hands fisted his dirty blonde hair as his hands cupped your face, holding you there… keeping you in the moment and you swore time stopped.

You were breathless when you finally pulled away. Eyes wide in realization.

You had just given your first kiss away to a man that wasn’t your fiancé and there was no ounce of regret in either of you.

»————-　⚜　————-«

Time passed so slowly when all you’d wish for was that it’d up – skipping to a time where you and Peter were already married and the royals have all vacated Arachnia and back to their own lands, where the king that occupied your mind was long gone.

In the days that followed, you avoided each like the plague. You’d turn the corner and see Peter then immediately turn the other way or you’d bow your head down so low so that you could avoid Steven’s fixated stare as you passed him in the corridors.

The only time you couldn’t escape the two was during meals. Although during breakfast and lunch you usually spent alone, it was during the feasts of dinner that you could not escape the lingering stare of King Steven nor the possessive arm of Prince Peter.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Peter whispered in your ear. You were guilt-ridden as you stared at the concern that filled his deep brown eyes. You muttered that you were alright just a bit tired although under the king’s eyes you have never felt more alive. But he accepted your answer nonetheless.

“Are we interrupting,” teased King Anthony with a playful grin. “Shall we order the absence of everyone in the room so that you two may have all the privacy in the world?” His wife slapped his shoulder with a chuckle as you and Peter bashfully apologized – Peter because he was truly embarrassed for being caught whispering in your ear and you because you felt Steven’s eyes staring through your soul. “Tell us, Lady (Y/N), how did such a lovely lady such as yourself end up with a brute of a prince like Peter?”

You swallowed as all their attention turned to you. You stared across the table at King Steven who eyed you with a smirk. His elbows rested on the table with his hands clasped together, head resting on top of his knuckles, as if taunting you, egging you on. You tore your eyes away as you focused on your lap.

“Well… uh – “

“We met at her brother’s party,” Peter announced, proudly. You took your cue and nodded with a small grin and kept silent. “My father and hers were friends before he passed, and so they invited my aunt and I. We had no choice but to accept, and thankfully, we did. She was truly a sight, this one.” You forced a laugh as the other chuckled. “I knew then she had to be mine, this little dove.”

You grimaced but quickly covered it up by grabbing your cup of untouched ale. Your eyes flicked over to Steven who was already staring at you. He cocked an eyebrow up at you as your eyes met. You brought the ale to your lips and he stared as your lips pressed against the rip of the chalice but never drank anything.

The conversation drifted to another topic, but you excused yourself, telling Peter you were exhausted. He nodded with a smile and leaned in to kiss you and your eyes widened, turning your head – had he wanted your first kiss to be in front of all these people? Marking you as his? His lips pressed against your cheek and you muttered goodbye to him and bid a goodnight to the others.

You wondered aimlessly throughout the corridors, lost in your thoughts. With everyone in the grand hall for dinner, the castle was felt empty, and your shoes clicked against the tiles and echoed through the halls. After minutes of silent walking, you felt the hairs at the back of your neck prick up and goosebumps run down your arms.

You turned to find the dark hallway staring back at you. You frowned before you turned and ran into a sturdy build of a man.

“I thought you retired for the night?” and you recognized the voice immediately.

“Your majesty,” you whispered, bowing awkwardly to King Steven.

He chuckled as you apologized frantically. He shushed you, seizing your hands but you snatched them away. Steven frowned. “You’re avoiding me.”

“What happened shouldn’t have happened,” you hissed.

A playful smirk replaced his scowl as he tilted his head, tauntingly. “But you could’ve stopped me. You could’ve said no.”

“Of course,” you chuckled dryly. “It’s always the woman’s fault. Men can never take responsibility for their misdoings and kings,” you spat out as if it were poison on your tongue. “are no better.”

“Was it your first kiss?”

Your tongue darted out and wet your bottom lip and you didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced down. Embarrassment washed over you like a wave as your shoulders slumped. Were you that bad?

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have known… but you were a natural – “

“Don’t flatter me.” You snapped and he laughed.

“So, I had the honor of being your first kiss…” He muttered. Steven’s hand grabbed your bicep, which was significantly smaller than his, and pulled you closer to him.

“Your majesty – “He shushed you as he kissed you again in that corridor, but you pulled away abruptly, not allowing yourself to melt into him. “We can’t. I am engaged to the prince.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “But you don’t want to be. Others may dismiss it as nerves, cold feet, even, but,” he tsked, “I know better.”

“You don’t know me. You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.” He whispered. “Enough to know that I want you.”

“I have to be married to the prince. I wear his ring. I live in his castle.”

“And enjoy a loveless marriage? He can dote on you and you can learn to love him, yes… I’ve seen it in my parents’ union and in my friends’, but you’ll never truly be happy, no…” He told you, brows furrowed and shook his head.

“And I’d be happy as your mistress?” You scoffed, shaking your head, but you made no motions to step away. “A noblewoman reduced to nothing but a king’s play-thing? The dishonor, the shame – “

“I never said you’d be my mistress.” Steven shook his head as he cupped your jaw.

“And you intend to marry me?” You laughed as if he had said the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. And it was. It was hilarious to think that he was being anything but truthful. You were sure he was jesting with you. Empty words. Empty promises. But his stare was serious.

“I want you.”

“You want the idea of me,” you corrected. “The idea that you can take another king’s wife. Kings throughout history are all the same. Covet another man’s wife, his property, or his land. Just to prove you are better.” You shook your head. “It’s a pissing contest for you. It’s treason for me.”

“I am a king.” He told you and you rolled your eyes.

“Not mine.” You whispered. “Your teasing, your jokes. Your eyes… they linger in a way only Peter’s should, and it has to stop.”

“I want you.” He repeated. “And I know you want me, too.”

“I don’t – “

“Or else you would’ve walked away. You could’ve pulled your arm from me – I’m not holding onto you tightly. You could’ve run off to your little prince, but you’re avoiding him, too. Is it guilt, my lady?” He asked you, leaning down and whispering into your ear. Your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, kissing the skin beneath it. “Because you know you don’t want the boy… but you’re too kind to hurt him.”

“You’re trying to get me killed.” You stifled a moan as his lips left a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “Shunned and humiliated – “

“I want to be yours,” he confessed.

A sudden burst of laughter had you jump from each other. Your back pressed against the wall as he took a step back with a smirk. In the distance, you could hear drunken men and their courtesans stumble about the castle, doors slamming shut. The feast must’ve been over, and the halls were soon to be crowded again.

You two held each other’s stares as you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The moonlight that slipped through the curtains of the windows had his deep blue eyes gleaming and he was marvelous view.

»————-　⚜　————-«

The room was stuffy and the jewelry that adorned your neck and wrists were heavy. They weighed you down as if to remind you of the pressures that your new life held – what lay ahead of you. The dress you wore was a combination of white and gold. You looked regal like the betrothed of a king should look like. You stood in the crowd next to King Anthony and his wife, behind you was King Steven and his piercing stare.

The feelings that you held for Steven were wrong and you knew that. You often wished that Peter had been flawed – an unfaithful man or a cruel one but he was the opposite. He was kind and gentle albeit a bit dismissive or not present at times. The guilt gnawed at you each time you and the Brooklyn king met behind closed doors, or in the secluded library, or in the depths of the rose garden, planted especially for you by Peter’s order, but you didn’t care.

It was innocent, really – at least that’s what you told yourself. The meetings always started the same. Bickering and joking. He had even taken an interest in tutoring you about chess – “a game for kings,” he would say. Although he had beat you every game, you never minded because all the meetings ended the same – with your lips pressed against his and you melting into his touch.

The crowds all stood as Peter entered the throne room. He was dressed as a king in his house colors – red, blue, gold. He was sweaty and his hands were clasped together nervously. He shot a glance your way as he walked by and you gave him a soft, encouraging nod. He returned it with a smile as he kneeled before the throne.

The priest slipped a ring on his finger and he was later handed the scepter and the orb. You caught the way the scepter slipped due to his clammy hands – not too much but just enough to have him fumble. Behind you, you heard Steven chuckle and you shot him a look as if to tell him to behave and he shook his head at you with a grin.

The crown was placed onto Peter’s head and he hesitantly stood. He was unbalanced, weighed down, but he took each step towards the throne with stride and a proud smile.

“Long live the king!” You and the entire crowd chanted in unison though you were almost certain that Steven didn’t say a word.

The party held afterwards was filled with dancing and music, but you were tied to Peter’s side the entire evening as he thanked his guests and accepted their congratulations, all eager to get in favor with their new king.

Instead of the usual round table, Peter and his family – Lady Parker and you – were seated in a long table at the front of the grand hall. The rest of the royals scattered in other tables near yours. You picked at your food, boredom sinking in as another nobleman approached.

You glanced up and met Steven’s eyes. He brought his chalice up as if to salute you and you softly laughed before turning your attention to the duke. The conversation was dull with fake pleasantries and complaints of lost land – Peter promised the duke that he would look into it. You remembered Steven tell you that kings should make no promises that he could not uphold. and you wondered if Peter had any intentions of honoring it.

“Do you want to dance?” Peter asked you after the man left, offering you his hand. You smiled and nodded, taking it.

He pulled you onto the dancefloor, joining the other couples. Peter’s hold on you was tight as if you would run away or disappear. The crown on his head was just a little big and would slip over his forehead. You’d giggle and push it back up.

He pulled you close to him and swayed to the music. “This is grand,” he told you. “The crown, a beautiful bride.” You hummed in agreement though you didn’t entirely adore the idea – not as much as you used to. You hated being compared to that awful crown as if you were just an accessory to him. “And … In a few days’ time, my dove, we are to be wed.”

“What?” You shook your head with a dry laugh, taking it as a joke. “Your high – majesty,” you corrected, and he beamed at the title, “we are set to be married in the late spring. Not in a few days.”

Peter frowned. “Had no told you?” You shook your head, no. He sighed. “I suppose I should’ve… The council believes that it’s best we get married immediately. Now, that I’ve got the crown, they say I need heirs,” you blanched at the idea, “and besides, the other royal families of Marvel are already here.” Your breath hitched as the realization set it. “Well, aside from King Steven, he’s one to never attend weddings.”

“Peter – “you shook your head. The panic beginning to rise. Despite being trained for this very day since you were young, you were convinced you weren’t ready. You told yourself the anxiety was from the idea of being queen, but the truth was – the anxiety was from the idea of being wed… to Peter.

“May I cut in?” You didn’t hear Peter’s response just that a pair of familiar hands seized yours and your waist, pulling you flush against his body. “Are you okay?”

You stared up at Steven’s worried eyes, brows lifted and lines of concern all over his forehead. You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. You hated the idea that you would be Peter’s completely, and that Steven would never be yours.

“Peter said we are to be wed in a few days,” you uttered. The words didn’t feel right. Your voice was shaking as you held back your tears. Steven’s jaw dropped before he nodded. “Steve,” his eyes stared into yours, “I don’t want this.”

“And what is it do you want?” Steven asked you. He was hopeful although naively so. And in many ways, you were as well to believe that your affections for Steven could extend to something more. But reality set in, you were engaged to a king – just not the king you wanted.

“I want to marry you,” you confessed though voice hushed, afraid that any ears would hear your treasonous words. You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him before shaking your head. The idea that you fell in love with a man after knowing him for only three weeks was preposterous. “Or at least… that I want to be with you.”

Steven smiled softly at your confession – words he had been hoping to hear ever since he cornered you in the empty hallway. He leaned in and your eyes widened, but he brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “keep your chamber doors unlocked tonight.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

One of the peculiar things about your move to Arachnia’s palace was your bedroom. It was rather enormous for the fiancé of the now king. When you first arrived, you expected a room modest in size though not as big as this – especially since you’d move into Peter’s chambers once you were married. The mattress was pressed against the back wall between two large windows that never opened. Bookshelves filled with novels though no work area – no desk or study. Instead, you were given a vanity. Besides those pieces, the room was pure empty space.

You used to joke to yourself that you were just a prisoner who adorned the prince’s, now king’s, jewels and a fine title.

You stood by the window, watching the fireworks that celebrated the coronation. You swore you could see the towns in the distance, all lit up with anticipation. Peter would soon be making his rounds throughout the country as its official king. Would it happen before you were married or after? Would you be asked to join him as his queen?

You stared down at your ring finger. The sapphire staring tauntingly back at you. It shackled you to a man you didn’t want. It reminded you of your family’s side eyes and low whispers when you didn’t immediately get married once you were of age, or the hushed voices and stares of the other nobles as they judged your every move calling you unworthy to marry a prince, let alone a king.

And all you could think was – to hell with it all.

A soft knock was heard from the wooden door of the chamber and you walked towards it. The stone tiles were cold against your bare feet and the doorknob even colder against your already freezing hand. With a twist of the doorknob, a smile formed on your lips as Steven came to view.

You hurriedly pulled him inside, eyes scanning the now empty hallway, before closing it.

He eyed you up and down and smiled, admiring you – hair undone and natural, face free of any makeup or colors staining your cheeks or lips, no gown with a corset that clung onto your body that left you with no room to breathe.

You were beautiful and oh, how he’d kill to see you like this every day.

“Did anyone see you?” You asked him, softly, though within the thick walls of the castles and in the privacy of your chambers no one would hear you.

Steven shook his head, one hand finding your waist and the other cupping the side of your face. “They never do, do they?” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You pulled away, leaning into his chest, settling into his warmth. You loved being in his embrace – it was safe and warm like a small cottage in the countryside with no judgmental stares or rumors whispered about.

You realize you could live like this until your last day – and with your intentions, that final day might be quickly approaching. “Why is it you asked to meet me here?”

Steven’s jaw ticked. Truthfully, he had no real answer. He could’ve asked to meet anywhere, and the risks were just the same. The mere act of meeting you in private was damning, no matter what he intended.

He thought that admiring you from across a crowded room, under the cover of hundreds all staring at you, too, would be enough. He thought his eyes would go unnoticed. He told himself that his attraction would be fleeting, but it wasn’t – and it became clear the moment he pressed his lips against yours at the top of the south stairwell.

“Steve?”

He sighed. “I… I’m not quite sure if I’m honest with you, Lady (Y/N).”

You smiled to yourself. In the time you’ve known King Steven, he had always been so smug, so confident. Every step had a direction and every word so sure, but you’ve reduced him to a man begging for the affection of a woman.

You pulled yourself from his chest and stared up at him before you stood on the tips of your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

It was as if you two were molded together or made from the same cloth. Lips pressed together as if they had always belonged there.

His large hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his tapered waist. You felt the heat rise to your face when that familiar throbbing feeling between your legs came back – and with your cunt pressed against the middle of his body, you were sure he could feel it, too.

Your back pressed against the soft, silk sheets of your bed. Steven draped over you like ivy covering the castle’s stone walls.

The framework creaked beneath your combined weight as he began to grind aimlessly against your center, eliciting a gasp from you as it helped the ache from deep within you.

He smirked into the kiss, but you caught him off guard yet again when you whispered, “I – I want you.” He pulled away, taken back. “I want all of you, Steve, please – “

“(Y/N) – “

He began to climb off you, but you sat up, hands cupping his face and staring deep into his eyes. You shook your head as you gave him a quick kiss.

Foreheads touching, you told him, “if I am to go marry and live in this hell, I might as well be granted a taste of heaven.”

“You will be ruined – “he whispered though the idea made his cock twitch in his trousers. You jumped as you felt it too.

You shook your head again, “how can you ruin anything, Steve?”

Steve licked his lips as he tried to fight off his morals. The devil and the angel on his shoulders disappeared and became one – the beautiful maiden beneath him, begging for him to take her.

“If we do this,” he whispered as he nudged your cheek, lips kissing your jaw, “there will be no going back, (Y/N).”

“I want to be yours, Steve,” you told him, honestly. “I – I love you.”

And that’s all it took to have his lips ravish yours, hands roaming, desperately grabbing on to what he could. He pulled away and grabbed your hand. He slid the ring off your finger, tossing it onto the table next to your bed before he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You heard a rip and you gasped as the cold air hit your bare skin. Steven’s hands pushed the torn fabric off away from your body, throwing the ruined white silk behind his shoulder.

He pulled away from you, admiring the view beneath him – the woman spread out before him like an offering, nipples perked in the cold winter air, mouth ajar as she panted, and the perfect, untouched pussy.

“I love you, too.”

He began to undress, and you couldn’t take your eyes off this Herculean being in front of you. He was thick and broad, the muscles that were arranged all over his body were hypnotizing as were the scars undoubtfully from all his training and his time spent in wars.

He was a god in the body of the king, and you wondered how you got so lucky.

Steven began to undo the strings that held his pants up and you watched with you lip between your teeth. The anticipation, alone, killed you. He pushed down his pants and your eyes widened at his massive cock – tanner than the rest of his skin, with a red angry tip, thick veins, and clear liquid coming from it.

He saw your uncertain expression and he raised his brows at you. “I – I –“you began to stammer.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, little one,” Steven whispered. His hands reached out and cupped your cheek, hungry eyes scanned your body and your mouth went dry. The throbbing within you was relentless and made you clench your thighs together. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes looked away, bashfully, as his hands explored you – cupping your breasts and tracing the curves of your body. All Steven wanted was for all of you to be his.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you hesitantly looked back at him. He had a soft smile and adoring eyes as his fingers slipped through your folds. You let out a soft gasp and your eyes fluttered closed as the ache was relieved by his touch. “Look at me,” Steven repeated, and you forced your eyes open to stare at him. Your lover smirked as he found your small bundle of nerves and rubbed tight circles around it.

It felt as if something within you had blossomed and you couldn’t help but grind into his touch, but he tutted at you, using his free hand to hold your hips down. “You’re soaked, my love,” Steven whispered, leaning down, and nipping at the base of your neck. Hard enough for you to gasp but not enough to leave marks. “Already so wet and I’ve yet to do anything.”

“It’s just my reaction to you,” you confessed, heat rising to your face.

You tried to avert your eyes away from his piercing stare, but he tsked and pinched your inner thigh. You hissed in return and brought your stare back to him. “Don’t make me tell you again, (Y/N),” Steven warned.

You nodded, speechless as his fingers wandered further down, ghosting over your untouched opening. You let out a shaky breath.

“Steven – “you moaned as he sunk one long, thick, skilled finger inside of you.

“You’re so tight,” the king noted with a smirk. He relished in the idea that he would be the first to have you and he wished that he’d be the only one to have you forever.

“Steven, I want you… Please – “

He tsked at you with a quick shake of his head. His lips pressed against yours again, silencing your soft whines and protests. “I need to open you up, my love,” he told you, lips still against yours, “or else you might get hurt.” He pressed another finger into you, and you pulled away from his lips.

The back of your head pressed against the mattress as another moan escaped you. The king began to scissor your opening. The stretch was tolerable though still uncomfortable and had your breath shuddering.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised you, nose tracing your jaw. His lips kissed the column of your throat.

You groaned when his fingers began to thrust, opening you up to him. You heard the faint sound of your arousal on his fingers, the wetness spilling onto your thighs, too. Your hands tangled up into the king’s long, dark blonde hair, pulling him into you as he added a third finger, effectively stretching you out.

“Are you alright?” He asked you, fingers thrusting into you in a rhythm of their own. You nodded, eyes staring at the top of the canopy over your bed and hands pushing the king flush against you’re the joint between your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there, trying not to suck on it to leave you with his marks – marks that young Peter would undoubtfully see on your wedding night.

You gasped as you felt this tightening knot in the depths of your stomach. “You almost there, my love?” Steven asked and you nodded though you weren’t sure where there was. Your thighs tightened around him. You whined when his fingers left your heated core right on the precipice of pleasure, leaving you with an emptiness. Steven chuckled.

“I was – “

“First time you get to cum will be around my cock,” he told you brazenly and it felt as if your entire body flushed at his words. He brought his fingers to his lips and your eyes widened when he began to suck on them, and he groaned. “You taste so sweet, my lady.” The king quirked up an eyebrow at your curious expression as he swiped his fingers against your lips. “Have a taste, my love.”

Your tongue reluctantly darted out over your lips, gathering the sweet yet musky taste of your essence. Your hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist and bringing his fingers to your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his index and middle finger and sucked carefully as he did, and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh at the sight.

He watched you intently as you cleaned off his fingers, his free hand stroking his throbbing dick. He swiped the tip against your slit, causing your body to shudder when he bumped your clit.

He took his fingers from your mouth and both hands held your waist. Instinctively, your pushed your knees further apart, opening up to him. Steven’s blue eyes flicked up to you as he pressed his tip against your heat.

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

You threw your head back as he began to press into you, the pressure unbearable and made your entire body tense. The king began to hush you, holding still. One of his hands caressed the side of your face, combing through your hair. “You need to relax, my love,” he cooed.

You muttered an incoherent agreement as you tried to will your muscles to loosen. You heard the squelching sound of your cunt engulfing the man, slowly. Your hand flew to his wrist and grabbed onto it, unsure of what to do.

He praised you as the tip slipped in along with an inch or two, but he was nowhere close to bottoming out. The king began to pull back, only leaving the tip in before pushing in more of him. You hissed again as he pressed past the thin veil of your innocence, being the first and only man to tear through it.

His cock was no match for his fingers, being much thicker and so much longer. You tried to even your breathing and he chuckled. “You’re doing so well, my love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Taking me so well… Look…”

His nose nudged the side of your cheek and you slowly craned your neck to look down as he bottomed out completely – his public bone flush against your clit. Your mouth watered at the sight as he slowly pulled out an inch or two. You took a sharp breath when you saw the faint strips of red on his length.

The king began to rock into you slowly and you couldn’t take your eyes away from where you were connected. The pain, although still there from the burning stretch, was incomparable to the pleasure when his tip brushed against a certain part of your canal.

You moaned, loudly, head thrown back, exposing your throat to him. Steven kissed the hollowness before capturing your lips in his. “I love you,” he murmured into the kiss as his hips began to speed up. Your own matching his thrusts.

The sound of skin clapping against each other echoed throughout the enormous room and you felt yourself clench against him.

He groaned in return. In one quick motion, the king hoisted your knees over his shoulder, giving him a much deeper angle to take you from. He thrusted so hard and so deeply that you swore you felt him in your chest.

You moaned his name as your hands grabbed your breasts. He watched with a smirk as you fondled yourself and one of his hands began to rub tight circles around your swollen clit again. Your back arched at the sensation.

“I’m gonna fill you up, my love,” he told you. “Have you fall pregnant with my child. Watch you swell…” It was a fantasy, on Steven’s behalf. He’d always wanted a wife and children but never found the right partner until you. “Do you want that, little one? Do you want my children?”

“I want you, Steven,” you moaned. No coherent thoughts were forming as the familiar tight knot in your stomach suddenly snapped. Your hips ground up against his as your walls tightened around the king, milking him, and pushing him over the edge.

Steven thrusts faltered, leaving his rhythm, and pushed deeply into you one last time. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and you felt each spurt, covering your walls in his white.

You two laid on top each other, legs entangled, and bodies intertwined like lovers. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you said, “I love you, Steven.”

And in that moment, all was right.

»————-　⚜　————-«

“What?”

The disbelief in each of their tones hung in the air. The councilmen shook their heads in shock as Peter stared at you from the throne with his brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“I beg your pardon, Lady (Y/N).” One of the men said.

“My lords, my king,” you addressed with a bow of your head. “I asked for this meeting to tell you that I am incredibly humbled to have been homed here in the palace of Arachnia and to be the betrothed of the prince – king – to have witnessed you be crowned, your majesty… But I,” you swallowed and took a deep breath. “I do not want to marry you.”

“What brought this on?” Peter asked you as he leaned into his throne. He eyed you, suspiciously, eyes glancing over your figure. Although the new king had been wrapped up in several meetings ever since his coronation, he noticed the change in you – the way your body filled out, hips wider and the glow in your complexion. You looked more radiant than you usually were and much happier. Though he wasn’t sure what was the cause, he was certain it had not been him but he refused to believe it was another.

“I cannot believe this!”

“We’ve wasted all this time preparing a marriage!”

“How dare she – “

“He needs a bride to keep his crown.”

“Silence,” Peter ordered the men and their murmurs quickly disappeared. Words and unfinished sentences hung in the air. “What brought this on, my lady?”

You cleared your throat as you took a step forward. “Your majesty, I … I am not meant to be your queen.”

Peter nodded in contemplation and you were hopeful. He had always been understanding. He would’ve surely granted you a swift exit from this engagement without another – “No.” And just like that your hopes were dashed. “You are to remain my betrothed as you have been for months.”

“But Pete – “

“Our wedding is in days!” Peter snapped and your eyes flicked to the floor. “And you want to end our engagement now? You had months to concede – “

“I was afraid!” You objected. The lords stared on as your voice rose higher than the king’s. The tone, the higher octave, may have been from a moment of frustration, but the men in the throne room saw it as one thing only: a lady undermining her king.

“Afraid?” He scoffed. “Of what? Of me? My lady, I am not a cruel man – “

“Then grant me my wish. Release me from this engagement.” You begged.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “We are to be married in a few days’ time.” You saw how his kind eyes darkened as he frowned at you. “You do your best to rid of your cold feet now, my lady.”

Defeated, you rushed out of the throne room. Several servants and other nobles stared with confused expressions as you ran past with tears in your eyes – running to the only man that understood you, the only man that could help.

You banged against his chamber doors, desperate for him to whisk you away.

“Steven!” You called when the door suddenly opened to reveal a maid. Her arms were full of linens and you stared at her in confusion.

She quickly curtseyed to you and cocked her head to the side. “My lady, have you been crying?”

“No,” you shook your head, jaw clenched, though your sniffle gave you away. “Where’s King Steven?”

“He left this afternoon, my lady.” She told you.

“What?” You felt the color drain from your face. You shook your head at her as if she were wrong. He wouldn’t have left you – not like this. “No… There must be a mistake. Steven – King Steven – “

She frowned before shaking her head. “No, my lady… The Brooklyn King left hours ago. If you had wanted to know, I would’ve told you. I had no idea you two were so close.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Though the maid had been kind in her intention, you heard the accusation loud and clear.

A shaky breath left you as you forced a smile. “No,” you said shaking your head again, “no… The king, our king, Peter and I were hoping he’d attend our… our marriage.” The word felt heavy on your tongue as the world around you began to crash down. “I suppose, we were too naïve to believe he’d stay.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

The barren winter trees passed by in blurs as Steven stared out the carriage window. The bickering of his two friends and advisors, Lord Samuel Wilson and James Barnes, became background noise to his pensive thoughts.

He wondered how you were – were you as devasted as he was? Would you understand if he told you the truth – that he, though desperately and completely in love with you, could not have you? That his overstep, his coveting of Peter Parker’s fiancé, may reignite a feud long buried between Arachnia and Brooklyn.

That as a king, it was his duty to put a stop to a potential war.

Though as a man, he knew his duty was to you and may always be.

“The girl,” Barnes’s mention of your name had him turning from the window and towards the two men, “she seems well. A great match for the young king.”

Steve scoffed. Although he knew his opinion was heavily biased, he knew that you were most certainly not a good match for the Parker boy. Peter would have you as a decorated figurehead – a pretty woman on his arm for the world to see – while Steven wanted so much more in your forbidden union.

“I see you disagree,” Samuel nodded to his king. Steven sat in silence and the two lords shot a knowing glance at the other. “They are to be wed in a few days.” Steven hummed though the two didn’t miss the way his hand formed a fist over his knee.

“The sooner the better, I suppose,” James nodded, eyeing Steven wearily. “Peter, being so young and the last of his line, he needs an heir quickly.” The king shifted in the carriage and they felt the entire cart jolt with his fury. “Steven, I address this as your friend, nothing more, but what is your issue?”

“Nothing.” Steven said quickly and he scolded himself. He felt like a young boy throwing a tantrum with his mother.

James raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his king and childhood friend. “The girl has piqued your interest, hasn’t she?” His friend’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. “Steve – “

“I know,” Steven snapped. “I know it is wrong to want another man – “he scoffed, “child’s bride…”

“And yet you still do?” Samuel asked. “Steve, the consequences of your feelings,” he shook his head, “it will incite an unnecessary war… and over what? A girl?”

“If she’s a war, then I will fight.”

“A love blind man’s word… Not a king’s.” Samuel rebutted.

“Why did you leave her, then? You could’ve stowed her away in this carriage with us. You could’ve stolen her from under Peter’s nose. Why didn’t you?” James quizzed.

With a defeated sigh, Steven said, “it’s for her own good. My affections for her, whatever my heart says or hers, it will get her killed. Arachnia will not take lightly to her betrayal of their king.”

James nodded in agreement. “You’re saving her. This is for the best, my friend. For if you listened to your heart instead of your head, she will be a casualty in a pointless war.”

“It’s difficult,” Steven confessed, “to have let her go. And it’s something I will regret for the rest of my life.”

»————-　⚜　————-«

ONE YEAR LATER…

Your entire family cooed at the fussing three-month-old in the king’s arms. The child continue to wail and thrash, finding discomfort in your husband. “Argh!” He glanced over to you as if asking for your help. You stifled a laugh as you walked over, seizing your baby from him. “She prefers her mother over me.” He joked as the babe almost instantly calmed in your arms.

“Have you chosen a godparent, yet, your majesty?” Your father asked you, subtly pushing your older brother forward as a silent suggestion. You rolled your eyes.

The king ran a hand over his brown curls and shook his head at your father. “No, my lord, we have yet to choose.” Peter nodded in your direction. “I thought since most of baby Fallon’s life will be decided by me, his mother should have a say in that.”

Your father chuckled with a shake of his head. He clasped a hand on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to shrug it off. “Indecisive, this one, isn’t she?”

Peter glanced your way, “you have no idea.” The two men laughed, and you gnawed at the knob in the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. Fallon yawned and you gave Peter a look. “I suppose, we should all greet our guests.”

“Oh, yes,” you nodded, “the christening. You go ahead, Peter. Someone should stay with Fallon.”

“Oh, nonsense, girl,” your father told you. “The nanny will – “

“She is my child and I will care for her. I do not need a nanny.” You snapped, your bottled up frustrations slowly bursting.

Peter laughed awkwardly, hands finding your waist though you pulled away from him. He coughed. “It’s the separation anxiety,” he joked with your father.

“Well, I never had that,” your mother piped up.

Of course, you didn’t. You sent me away as soon as Peter asked. You bit back the response.

Your family began to vacate the nursery and you felt a bit of relief. You felt Peter’s hands on your hips. You tensed when you felt his lips ghost over your ear. “Why don’t you join me in greeting our guests?” He asked you.

You shrugged him off. “I want to be alone.”

The young king sighed before releasing his hold on you. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to you again. “You do realize your duty is not only to Fallon? It is to me and my kingdom as well.”

“I understand that my duty was to give you an heir,” you deadpanned. “I have done just that.”

“You have given me a daughter. Not an heir.” You glared at him and he immediately silenced.

“A daughter is an heir. Do not dare discredit her birthright because of her sex!” The babe began to stir in your arms and let out a small cry. You immediately shushed her, coddling her in your arms and she began to quiet.

You heard him sigh, defeatedly, before the door slammed shut again.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you stared at the child in your arms. Many times, you found peace in Fallon’s presence, but as time went on and as the child began to resemble her father, you began to worry. Though Fallon had adorable dark curls, she had striking blue eyes – ones that undoubtfully belonged to her father.

On the day you were to wed Peter, he had gotten caught up in the affairs of the state. The wedding was quickly rescheduled for two weeks after despite the protests of the nobles and royals who had all stayed extra days to witness your union. As you were doing the final adjustments to your gown, you realized you were due for a bleed that had yet to come and a sickening feeling of realization ran erupted through you. You did not consummate that night – your nerves and guilt making you sick to your stomach.

But you decided that you would survive – if not for yourself, then the life within you, the life in your arms now.

Moments later, the door creaked open and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Peter, I said I wanted to be alone – “in the silence, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand and a shiver run down your spine. A familiar feeling you wanted to forget. You turned around and your eyes widened. All the fury you felt, the regrets, the pain – all of it – melted in an instant.

“Steve.”

He stared at you with adoring eyes. You had grown more beautiful if that were even possible. Your glowed, motherhood becoming you. “(Y/N).”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You shook your head.

“You weren’t with Peter,” the Brooklyn king told you. “I thought you may have been with your child…” He chuckled. “Near the south wing, next to the staircase.”

“I love the sunlight it brings in.” You muttered. “Peter never lets Fallon out of the castle, so I suppose, it’s a substitute.” Steven nodded.

After beats of silence and longing stares, Steve finally said, “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” You nodded. “At first I was angry. I cursed your name in the dead of night. I wished you were dead and I often pretended so.”

“I deserve worse.”

You laughed. “You do.”

“I did it because I was afraid if I took you from him, in a furious rage, he’d strike you down. You are not of Brooklyn. I could not protect you against your own king.” Steven explained.

You nodded. “I told you. I would marry into hell.”

“Has he been cruel?” Steven frowned, his fury slowly rising and hands forming fists.

You shook your head. “No, far from it, actually.” You chuckled humorlessly. “In fact, perhaps, I’ve been the cruel one. I push him away because I don’t want Falon to believe that he is her father – “

“What?”

You glanced down at the child in your arms and beckoned Steven with a cock of your head. The king slowly walked over to you and the babe. Steven’s eyes watered slightly as he stared at the small creation. “She’s … she’s mine?”

You nodded. “They pushed the wedding back two weeks and I didn’t… uh… I didn’t bleed… and I knew then. We didn’t consummate,” you saw how he frowned at that, “until a week or so after. I was with child not long after.”

“How do you know?” He asked you. “Not to be accusatory, but – “

“She has your eyes.” You smiled. “Every time she stares at me, it’s as if you are.”

“She looks like me,” Steven smiled, a gentle finger caressing the child’s plump cheeks. You nodded in agreement.

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked and he eagerly nodded. He took the child from you and you felt your heart swell when Fallon didn’t immediately begin to fuss like she would with Peter. “She likes you.”

“I hope so. I’m her father, after all.”

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder, both admiring the life that you both created. You imagined that this was your life… just for a moment. That you weren’t in Arachnia but in Brooklyn, bearing Steven’s name rather than Peter’s… Married to the one who truly held your heart.

You sighed, finding the calm in your daughter and your lover.

And in that moment… all was right.

let me know what y’all think

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unholyhelbig · 4 years ago

Note

Triple Treble High school AU??

Read on AO3 | Request prompts here

The darkroom wasn’t originally in the blueprints for the high school. It was a small space that was wedged between the back stairwell, something that still smelled so thickly of drain cleaner, and sawdust, that the developer only added a twinge of vinegar to the mix.

Beca had pestered and persisted until the school board agreed to convert the unused storage area into a place for the yearbook committee to soak and hang their film. It could fit about four people at a time and left her blinking away the red light when the bell rang, load and enough to vibrate the whole room.

She leaned against the table that woodshop had constructed, mindful of the surface that could splinter at any moment. She was putting the finishing touches on her book report for Mr. White’s third-period English. She was cutting it close, but the photos from the pep rally the day before still had a good three minutes left of the egg timer.

She twisted the dial and listened to the satisfying click that accompanied it.

Beca had learned a long time ago that it was better to be unseen than seen by the whole world. There were no standards that way, if this batch of photos didn't turn out, or darken fully, that would be okay- because it wasn’t like they had noticed her, other than the small flashes of light, or the click of her Nikon.

She scribbled the finishing touches on her interesting take of “To Kill a Mockingbird” and shoved the crinkled lined paper into her backpack. She hadn’t put much thought into it- having read the novel more than once and never finding it as moving as it was intended to be.

The timer sounded off and her heart caught in her throat. It always did, even though she was the one that set it. She knew it was going to hiss eventually, and her hands moved before her mind could catch up. She peered over the edge of the basin at the photo that developed fully.

Chloe Beale beamed charismatically, her arm around Kaylee Eli, brow glistening with sweat. The logo of the cowboy shining under the lights. Beca was a damn good shot, but Chloe was an even better model. She stared right into the lens like she actually saw Beca- she noticed and posed and smiled with the same type of vigor as always.

The second warning bell sounded off and Beca fished the photo from the solution with her tongs. She shook it once, then twice, before clipping it on the line. She shouldered her bag and then emerged into the hallway, breathing in to clear out the sharp acidic scent from her lungs.

She nearly collided with a warm body, also trying their hardest to get through the hallways and into homeroom in time for the third and final bell to sound. Her sneakers squeaked against the floor, and her shoulder did make contact with something soft, and hot, and she stumbled with an apology before even realizing who it was.

Posters, and buttons scattered across the floor with a deafening clatter, and a pile of books were soon to follow. They were obnoxiously red, white, and blue. And Beca was on her knees, very suddenly, scrambling to pile them into a stack that they had once been.

“I’m so sorry,” She said, her own backpack forgotten.

“Were you in a supply closet?”

Beca glanced up, meeting hard and ripe green. The girl in front of her was a mass of blonde hair and lip gloss. She shoved her bangs back and gave Beca an inquisitive look. The posters were stacked now, and the two raised to a standing position.

“No, I mean, yes.” Beca frowned “It’s not a supply closet anymore, though. It’s a dark room. For photography.”

The girl studied her. She looked vaguely familiar. Those posters did too- Aubrey Posen for Student President. She realized she was still gripping them, reading them. She flushed and handed them over.

“I’m afraid I’ve made you miss the final bell.” She said.

“Don’t worry about it. Have a fantastic day.” Beca replied, even if she didn’t’ mean it. She grabbed her bag from the floor and maneuvered her way around the girl and walked off towards her first class- one that she wouldn't be paying much attention to.

Aubrey glared down at her posters. The word Fantastic was outlined in blue and slanted in a way that screamed desperately. She swallowed back the suddenly queasy feeling in her stomach and pulled her shoulders back. It didn’t’ matter if the candy-cane stripes and the blue lettering were tacky. It would win her the vote.

She felt disheveled, the pink late slip in her pocket burned like dry ice. She hated breaking the rules, and even this, even having the permission to skip the first half of the morning to work on her campaign, made her feel like some kind of common criminal.

Aubrey walked all the way to the gym.

She was meant to set up the ballot tables for the three lunch periods. She hadn’t thought that many people would skip out on the greasy scent of fried chicken and the brothy greens that were slopped next to them to vote for student council. Not many people cared about the election, and sometimes Aubrey questioned her own dedication to the cause of no cause at all.

The gym always smelled thickly of sweat and floor wax. It’s bright lights seemed to be the only thing in the school that ran on an automatic timer. The last moments of morning cheer practice had just concluded, and Aubrey waited dutifully by the double doors for the girls to clear out.

Most of them- she knew cordially. She was nod at them and say hello, and even give them a button to strap to their bags. So they smiled kindly as they exited past her, and wished her luck on today's vote. She figured she needed it.

“Are you nervous?”

“Huh?” Aubrey had started to study the sound system in the corner, but her focus was suddenly on the one remaining cheerleader in the gym. Her voice echoed, and her smile radiated. “Oh, uh, no my opposing candidate is a gerbil so.”

“he’s got a solid campaign.” She replied, walking across the seal in the center of the floor. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re going to do great. You’ve got my vote.”

Aubrey hadn’t been this close to Chloe Beale. Not in school- they usually avoided one another after Bumper’s Halloween party, two semesters ago. She didn’t remember, much- the fowl taste of beer, the flashing lights, a kid in a skeleton mask, and Chloe Beale’s lips on hers. Cherry, and tart with alcohol.

Her cheeks reddened at the thought, all-encompassing. “Right, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell me that.”

“Oh?”

Chloe took a few steps backward before turning completely and walking towards the double doors. Aubrey struggled to avert her eyes, knew that she had to, but couldn’t find a way to do it. Chloe could feel them on her- swinging her hips intentionally.

She found herself letting out a trembled breath once she exited into the hallway. Her arms were burning, and so were her cheeks. Aubrey M. Posen had always been intimidating; in her fancy blazers and thick reading glasses. Her lips tingled, and she pressed two fingers against them to quell the sensation. The girl probably didn't even remember her on Halloween night, that stupid skeleton kid, drenched in fake blood, and the flashing lights that spurred her drunken stupor.

Chloe pressed her back against the painted brick wall and let the coolness drip through her sweaty t-shirt. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and practice before the day had even begun made her bones ache and her stomach turn.

She was going to be late for class, she knew that before they had even finished listening to coach Morris reminding them (for the third time that morning) about the pep rally on Friday. She peeled herself from the wall, blinking away the light from the trophy cases, before slinking into the locker room. It was empty now, the remaining scent of body spray and lotion clouding her lungs.

Chloe quickly changed and pulled her bag over her shoulder. She didn’t’ have a pink slip, not as she should, but figured that Mrs. Gordon would excuse her this once. She would slide into first-period Chemistry and try her best not to disturb the room more than she had to.

“Miss Beale,” She felt her heart seize, Mrs. Gordon’s eyes on her, lifting from the workbook that she was struggling to flip through. The rest of the room had taken to staring at her too, roaming eyes and giddy for a distraction, no matter how small. “Take the nearest seat.”

It would certainly be easier than working her way around the room, through the bags and the lab stools. She glanced sparingly at the empty seat closest to her. Beca Mitchell lifted both of her eyebrows and shifted the camera bag to the floor, allowing her to take a seat.

“Flip to page seventeen, The building of Electron’s and Neutrons”

Chloe reached for her bag, but before she could Beca shifted the textbook towards the middle of them, letting her scan her eyes over the annotated version of the paragraphs. She had never expected Beca Mitchell, resident outcast and photographer, to go through the nightly reading and actually absorb it.

She smelled thickly of cloves and chemicals. It was earthy but comforting. It almost relaxed Chloe from the morning, brought her down to a familiar buzz after sharing a conversation with Aubrey in the gym. She blinked through her lack of focus and tried to concentrate on something other than how close the alt girl was, and how their knees almost met under the lab table.

Beca reached up and turned the page, Chloe realized she hadn’t read a single line.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Aubrey Posen #Pitch Perfect #Pitch Perfect Fanfiction #triple treble #Triple Treble Franfiction #Request

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psychedelic-ink · 4 years ago

Photo

This is my commission for @sandpumpkin! Thank you so much for commissioning me love and letting me post it! I hope I did metalpumpkin justice!

Pairing: Eustass Kid x Hana (self insert)

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Modern AU

Word count: 2.1 k

Summary: Hana and Kid have been going out for a while but Kid realized that he hadn’t actually took Hana out on a proper first date and sets to fix his mistake.

Commissions | Ko-Fi

Night fell and Hana couldn’t help but shimmy further into her coat. It might’ve been spring but as soon as sunset the remains of the winter cold still lingered within every breeze. She was cold but Hana couldn’t help but smile as she saw a rather tall red haired man walk towards her. The man held two steaming cups in his hands, one filled with herbal tea and the other filled with coffee. He sat down next to her and gave her the cup. Hana’s smile grew as she wrapped both hands around the cardboard cup and warmed her hands. She took in deep breaths of the soothing tea and gently placed it on her lips.

“You’re going to burn your tongue,” Kid groaned, blowing on his coffee. “Wait a bit before chugging it down.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Hana opted to blow on to the piping hot beverage instead, the two of them sat on a distant bench, far from the commotion. The light was soft from where they were sitting, giving them both a nice glow as they blew on their beverages. Lifting the cup towards her glossy lips once more, Hana’s eyes lingered on Kid. His leg was bobbing up and down, a nervous habit he had. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask what was troubling him. They both sat in silence, sipping their beverages and enjoyed each other's company under the stars.

“S-So , I wanted to ask you something,” Kid said, breaking the silence. Hana turned towards him, blinking, she was startled by the almost shy undertone he had in his voice. He continued. “We’ve been going out for a while but we haven’t really gone on a “proper” date now have we?”

Hana thought for a moment before replying with a big smile.

“As long as we’re together I’m happy,” she chirped. “I don’t really care if it was proper or not.”

Kid’s eyes widened and he quickly covered his mouth. He was hoping his hand was big enough to cover the blush he was sure he had as a result of hearing such sweet words. He took in a couple of deep breaths as an attempt to calm his loudly beating heart. When he deemed himself ready to speak again he removed his hand and nervously scratched the back of his head.

“That’s...nice of you to say,” he muttered. “But still, I would...you know...like to actually take you out, if you want to…”

In that moment Kid could’ve sworn he could see sparkles glimmering in Hana’s eyes. His blush deepened as he averted his eyes. A soft chuckle reached his ears.

“I would love to!” she sang. “It’s going to be so fun.”

Hana was glowing with excitement already thinking about what kind of outfit she should wear. Inching closer to him, Hana let her head fall on his broad shoulder and closed her eyes as she sighed happily. Kid stiffened only for a moment before placing his lips over her orange hair. He took in a deep breath of her sweet smelling shampoo before placing a kiss.

Surprised, Hana lifted her head up to gaze at him. Kid smiled and wanting to seize the opportunity, he leaned closer. When his lips touched hers it was as if time itself had stopped, the faint noise coming from the commotion nearby completely drifted off. Kid’s lips were soft and gently moved against Hana’s, it felt almost like a sweet sounding lullaby enough to kidnap her into the realm of dreams.

The one to break the kiss is Kid, he slowly parted away enjoying seeing Hana chasing after his lips as he did. She blinked a couple of times and stared at him with half lidded eyes, her cheeks red as a soft smile formed on her lips. Kid grinned and nuzzled the top of her head thinking that he would never get tired of this.

“It’s a date then.” he muttered, lips moving against her hair.

“It’s a date.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

“What have I gotten myself into?”

Kid sat in the middle of seemingly endless piles of clothes, his head between his hands, he blankly stared into the wall. Ever since they talked about when they would go on their proper date, Kid had postponed picking out an outfit but now that the time had actually come he was cursing at his past self. He had so many choices but absolutely no idea what to wear.

With butterflies in his stomach he let himself fall to the ground and started to stare at the ceiling instead. His heart was pounding mad, his clothing issues aside Kid was also rather excited to be going out with Hana. He had the whole night planned, it was out of his comfort zone but he would do anything to make her feel special. Kid’s head started to spin, the more he overthinked the more his stomach churned.

“Kid?” a voice called out to him. “Are you alright?”

Kid covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“No.”

Killer chuckled as he knelt next to the red haired man. He stared down at him with an amused look. Kid couldn’t even look at him, his face still covered behind his hands. Needless to say he was embarrassed.

“What’s wrong?” Killer asked. “I thought you wanted to go out?”

“I do!” he exclaimed, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I...I don’t know what to wear! And she always wears the most pretty stuff. I don’t want to embarrass her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy with whate—”

“And that’s not all!” Kid jumped and held Killer by the shoulders, startling the poor man. “What if I’m not gentlemanly enough? What then?”

“Why are you acting like she doesn’t know who you are,” Killer snorted. “I doubt she thinks you’re a gentleman.”

“Great pep talk man, thanks.”

Killer chuckled as he raised his hands in a sign of defeat.

“Alright alright I’m sorry,” he crossed his arms in front of him when Kid removed his hands. “But you’re overthinking, just pick something to wear and go meet her. Just be yourself.”

“That’s horrible advice.”

“It’s better than none.” Killer’s gaze wandered over the piles of clothes then he shifted his gaze back to Kid. “And about what you’re going to wear… I think it’s time.”

Kid’s eyes widened at his friend's words. He looked at him with a bewildered look.

“Really?”

He nodded, “It’s time to break out the kilt.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Hana nervously fiddled with her thumbs. Her brain muddled with excitement, she ended up arriving half an hour earlier. Luckily Kid had already made reservations so she didn’t have to wait outside. Sipping the water the waiter had poured for her, her eyes scanned the restaurant. It was much fancier than she anticipated and to be honest wasn’t much of Kid’s style. But nonetheless Hana was rather excited and giddy about the date, she had worn a black laced dark red dress with a black bonnet. She had Kid’s hair in mind when she picked out the color and hoped the man would appreciate it.

“Sorry, did I make you wait?”

Excitement bubbling inside of her, Hana’s gaze flew up. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw the red haired man standing before her. Her eyes shifted down from his beautiful face, she saw that he was wearing a nice suit jacket with a white button up shirt and the collar was sealed up with a nice dark red bowtie, similar to the color of the dress Hana was wearing. Her gaze continued to shift down and then she was pleasantly surprised, so much so that she almost had a mini heart attack.

He was wearing a matching dark red kilt with a black, yellow plaid pattern. It was absolutely astonishing and breathtaking at the same time. Hana’s mouth fell open but she quickly composed herself and tried to swallow down her shock. Swiftly her eyes wandered a bit lower to see his bare legs and she quickly shifted her gaze back up to his face. Kid was looking at her with a rather amused look, his red lips stretched out into a devilishly handsome smirk. Hana was sure she was red as his kilt.

“See something that you like, princess?”

“N-No,” Hana quickly blurted out, her gaze falling to the table. “Why don’t we order? I’m famished, I’m sure you are too.” she spoke quickly.

Kid chuckled, “Since this is a date I’ll let you change the subject.”

He took a seat and stared at her with a smile.

“You look beautiful by the way.”

“So do you.”

The rest of the night was more or less what Hana expected. It was rather awkward being in a stuffy restaurant and even with his attempts to try and hide it, Kid clearly wasn’t much of a fan. But even so he almost showed none of his displeasure and only focused on Hana. It was a rather nice feeling being here with him and she was beaming with happiness. She enjoyed the food but she especially enjoyed a time well spent with her loved one.

As they gobbled up the last remains of their deserts Hana had her light bulb moment. She was enjoying herself, that was a given, but she wanted Kid to be enjoying himself as well.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?”

“A walk?” Kid repeated, a bit startled. “Why?”

“The weather is rather nice and we did finish our dinner after all.”

A faint shade of pink colored his cheeks as he realized what Hana was trying to do. He couldn’t help but smile and call for a waiter for the check. As soon as they took a step outside Hana could see the change in Kid’s demeanour, he stretched his arms and took a deep breath.

“Not gonna lie this feels much better,” he said as he, much to Hana’s surprise, took a hold of her hand. “Where should we go?”

Hana followed as Kid started to walk, her pulse quickened and she felt herself getting flustered. Kid’s hand was so warm, it felt nice, almost like a security blanket, his presence made her feel safe and sound.

“Maybe we can go to the park?” Hana offered shyly.

“The park it is!” Kid exclaimed, finally feeling relaxed enough to shout.

Hana’s lips spread out into a grin, she let Kid lead the way. When they arrived Hana noticed that there was a fair nearby and the faint sound of music could be heard from where they were standing. It had a nice tune, it had a certain softness to it. Before she could say anything, Hana suddenly found herself being pulled towards Kid’s broad chest. He gently placed a hand on her waist and took a hold of her hand. Trying to accommodate the rhythm of the music, the two started to sway from side to side.

Hana held her breath as she stared at Kid’s chest, she didn’t dare look at him fearing that her excitement would be clearly read from her face. The sound of crickets accompanied the soft tunes and Hana let her head fall onto Kid’s chest as they continued to dance under the night sky. Kid hummed happily and pulled her closer, he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Hey, princess.”

“Yeah?” Hana replied in almost a sleepy tone.

“Look up.”

And so she did.

Kid’s lips brushed over her’s right before he captured them with a kiss. They continued to move with the music, their lips intertwined with each other. It was as if they were writing a symphony of their own. Hana had no idea how long their kiss lasted, it felt like an eternity. When they parted Hana was breathless, her mind dazed as she looked up to him. Kid didn’t seem to be doing much better, his cheeks red. Their dancing stilled as they gazed at each other, forgetting the rest of the world.

Then both of them smiled and started to giggle, Kid buried Hana’s face into his chest once more and nuzzled the top of her head, without warning Kid let himself fall to the ground and pulled Hana with him. She let out a gasp as she fell on top of him. Kid chuckled once more and placed a hand on her cheek, his thumb going in circles over her flushed skin.

“I love you so much.” he said, barely in a whisper.

“I love you too.”

They both continued to admire one another as they laid under the millions of stars that seemed to go on for eternity.

Just like their love.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #writing commission #commissions #eustass kid #eustass captain kid #eustass kidd #one piece x self insert #kid x selfinsert

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heresalittlestory · 4 years ago

Text

You are reaching the end of what has turned out to be one of your favourite interviews of your entire career. You still can't believe you scored the opportunity to interview Beastie Boys, who you had admired for years, at their G Son studio. You enjoyed their banter and tried to keep up with their witty humour though the interview went off track several times. You loved how they could talk so earnestly about bullshit stories they made up, and your crush on Adrock and MCA was stronger than ever having spent an just under an hour with them in person. As you stand up to leave, Adrock is bragging about winning his last mix tape battle with Yauch.

"He has a pretty sweet finger on the pause button" Yauch agrees, winking at you, "but I'm not letting him beat me that easily, I've got some ideas for our next round."

"Thanks for your time, guys, this was fun," you try to savour the last few moments before leaving, thinking this day could not get any better. You are proven wrong when you receive a call from Adrock that afternoon.

"Hey, I was just curious," he starts, "did you enjoy getting to know us better this morning?"

"Sure, why is that?" you respond, wondering what he is getting at.

"Well, Adam and I were talking and we'd like to get to know you a little better too." You detect a playful tone in his voice and feel your cheeks flush. You try not to sound too keen, responding, "oh, I'll have to check my diary."

Adrock isn't giving up easily, saying he had better see you on his doorstep at 6. Giddy with excitement and nerves, you pick out a nice casual dress and head to the address he gave you.

"I see your schedule was clear?" Adrock smirks as he opens the door. You smile shyly and walk in, breathing in the delicious smell of pesto. Adrock leads you to the kitchen where Yauch is cooking pesto pasta, he had been boasting about his recipe earlier that day. You notice he has thrown a plaid jacket over the grey t shirt he's wearing, it looks soft and well-worn. "Hey, nice of you to come over," he greets you with a mischievous smile.

Following dinner and a heated game of scrabble - in which Adrock once again beat Yauch and wouldn't stop rubbing it in - you are feeling confident and slide your hand onto Adrock's thigh, squeezing it gently. He returns the gesture, moving his hand further up your thigh towards where you are burning with desire. Yauch leaves to take a phone call and Adrock seizes the opportunity, leading you to his room. You are filled with nervous excitement, realising the guy you had been lusting after for so long is now hungry for you. Adam undoes the zip on the back of your dress and you let it fall to the floor. You unhook your bra and move over to his bed, watching with anticipation as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head, exposing his smooth chest and well-toned biceps. "You know, I spent that whole interview wishing I could see you like this" Adam says, and you giggle thinking how you been wishing the same thing about him. He lays you down and leans over you, kissing your lips as you let your hands roam along his lean torso. He directs his attention to your neck, kissing softly as he moves down further and then takes one nipple between his teeth, biting gently and drawing a faint squeal from you. He begins sucking as he plays with your free breast with his fingers.

Suddenly the door opens behind Adrock and you both freeze. You catch a momentary look of surprise on Yauch's face before a playful look spreads across it. "Starting without me? That's not how we're going to play this game."

Adrock frowns, "Come on, man, she chose me."

"Oh, is that right?" Yauch turns to you, and you can't help feeling amused watching them challenge each other again, but also a little annoyed that he's interupting this moment for you.

You start to feel self-conscious and sit up, reaching for your bra. "No, don't stop!" Yauch demands, his hungry eyes gazing over your exposed body. He winks at Adrock as he walks over and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, "Adrock might have kicked my ass in scrabble tonight, but I'm not letting him win you over without a fight."

You feel the warmth between your legs growing, and despite Adrock's frown you catch a spark of excitement in his eyes.

Adrock resumes his torturous journey down your body and somehow every touch feels even more electric with Yauch watching you both, jealousy in his eyes. You feel Adrock's breath on your lower region as he moves his head down between your legs. You quiver with anticipation. He takes you into his mouth, sucking gently at your labia before parting your lips with his tongue. He begins swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit and gazes up at you, taking in the pleasure in your face as you throw your head back. You writhe underneath him as his grip on your hips becomes tighter. Yauch adjusts himself and as you look over at him you can see the bulge growing through his tracksuit pants and desperately want to feel him. Adrock continues licking and sucking your most sensitive areas and you moan as you feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten. He releases your hip with one hand, wetting his fingers with your juices and toying at your entrance with two fingers before pushing them in. He begins moving his hand faster, curling his fingers along your walls while his tongue assaults your clit. "Oh god, don't stop!" you cry out as your whole body tenses and you arch back. He continues pumping his hand as you ride waves of pleasure, and when he finally withdraws his fingers from your cunt you are aching for more. "Did you enjoy that?" he moves up and kisses you gently. Tasting yourself on his lips turns you on even more. You nod in response to his question and playfully nibble at his plump bottom lip. You let out a little whine as Adrock's lips leave yours and he growls, "don't worry, we're just getting started."

By now, Yauch has started to undress and you notice the thick trail of hair leading down to his erect cock. "I want her now" he directs the statement at Adrock but his gaze doesn't leave your face.

"Competitive, aren't you?" you tease them, overcome with excitement at the thought of them taking out their jealousy on you.

Your mouth is watering at the sight of Yauch's erection, and you notice his length is not unlike that of his fingers which you had been distracted by earlier in the day, thinking to yourself how those slender digits would be good for more than just playing bass.

Yauch is leaning over you now and you run your hands lightly over the hair on his forearms before reaching up to fondle the triangle shaped pendant handing around his neck. You're curious where he got it but before you can ask he leans in to devour your mouth, forcing his tongue inside. You reach down and feel his cock harden more in your hand while his tongue continues searching your mouth. He pauses momentarily, leaving your lips as look of concern comes across his face. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asks. You nod enthusiastically, "Oh yes Adam, please," you look across to Adrock, "I want you both to disrespect me."

"Good," Yauch responds, "now I want to feel these pretty lips of yours wrapped around my cock."

You take advantage of the opportunity to be in control and sit up, pushing him onto his back. You start licking his legs, making your way up his thighs as you lick and nibble the smooth skin along the inside.

"Enjoying the show?" you quip to Adrock, wondering if he would get involved. He giggles in response and then mutters "fuck" under his breath as he watches you reach Yauch's cock. You trail your tongue up his length, swirling it around his tip before taking him into your mouth.

"You know he enjoys having his balls fondled." Adrock jokes and you reach your hand around to cup them, rolling and gently tugging at them. Yauch moans loudly and runs his hands through your hair, tightening his grip as he forces you to take him deeper. Unable to take anymore, Adrock reaches out and pulls your hand away from Yauch, guiding it around his cock. You start pumping your hand in unison with the movement of your head and you can tell they are both close when Yauch tells you to stop, your lips making a pop sound as he pulls your head up to look into your eyes.

"I need to feel more of you" he says and then directs you, "come over to the edge of the bed."

"Aw come on, man" Adrock complains to Yauch as you let go of him to follow the directions. You give him a playful shove.

As you move to lie down at the edge of the bed, Yauch stands up and grabs hold of your legs, spreading them apart and lifting them up to get a better view of your vagina. "You're so beautiful" he says, smiling with those cute crooked teeth. Then with a low growl he continues, "and I'm going to fuck this sweet cunt of yours until you're screaming my name."

Before you even have a chance to register what he has said he enters you with a forceful thrust and you cry out, but the initial pain subsides and the feeling of him finally filling you all the way is incredible. He slowly draws out before thrusting hard into you again and he keeps up this forceful rhythm for a little while before picking up the pace. His movements become more rapid and you can hear his skin slapping against yours as he hits your most sensitive spot over and over, driving you closer to the edge. You need more stimulation so you reach down to rub your clit and hear Adrock moan "fuuuck" at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. He gets up and stands next to Yauch, jerking himself off as he watches you fuck. "Isn't she fucking amazing?" Yauch looks at Adrock before smirking and turning back to you as you feel your orgasm building, "I own this cunt, you understand?" You feel your whole body shudder and your cunt is throbbing around Yauch's hard cock as you scream out "fuck, Adam! Don't stop!"

But before Yauch can finish, Adrock takes control again, "give her back."

"You'll have to pry me out of her" Yauch teases as Adrock shoves him, pulling him out of you.

"Onto your hands and knees" he demands and you immediately obey. "Yauch doesn't fucking own you, I had you first" he says, and the jealousy in his voice turns you on even more. He wraps his hands firmly around your hips as he enters you without warning and you feel yourself stretch little more to adjust to his girth. He moves his hands under you and starts to massage your sensitive breasts, pinching and tweaking as he thrusts deeper into you. "Oh you like that?" he asks in response to your moaning.

"Yes, fuck me harder" you manage to say, already feeling like you're about to be split in two. Adam's thrusts become more desperate and he lets out a growl as he pulls out and empties himself all over your back. You both collapse onto the bed and as you roll over Adrock slides his arm behind your neck, kissing your forehead softly.

"Hey we are NOT done yet" Yauch says as he straddles you and you take in a quick breath in expecting the same force from him as earlier. But he is gentler with you this time, swirling the tip of his cock around your opening before slowly sliding all the way into you. "I want you to remember exactly how this feels in you" he says as he picks up his pace. Adrock reaches down to tease your clit, pushing you over the edge again.

"Fuck! You feel so good" you cry as you feel the warmth of him finishing in you. You whimper as he pulls out, still feeling so sensitive. Yauch lays down on the other side of you as you both catch your breath.

As you freshen up in the shower you can hear the guys arguing and you smile to yourself. You step out of the bathroom and see them waiting for you.

"So?" Yauch questions with a smirk.

"Oh come on, you don't really expect me crown one of you the winner, do you?" you reply, playfully pushing past him to collect your things.

"Wasn't that the point?" Adrock asks, "if that wasn't enough for you to decide, how about you stay the night and see if we can't help make up your mind?"

- Beastie Groove

#beastie boys #nswf fanfiction #beastie groove

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flowercrown-bard · 4 years ago

Note

Ah no! *sends hugs* okay okay, this is very oddly specific, but in one of your Birds Still Sing chapters, I think the one where Kris is introduced, you mentioned a snowstorm?? 👀👀 sounds like a story lol. There were also mentions of monster encounters where Jaskier got in the way. No pressure if neither of those inspire you though haha.

I – Wha - How??? I bow down before your ability to not only notice but also remember such small details. And thank you for that lovely prompt!

Content warning: pure angst, hypothermia, animal death (very heavily implied, Roach gets left behind in the storm), angst, hypothermia, mention of the possibility of losing fingers due to the cold, minor references to Birds Still Sing that makes the ending really angsty. Otherwise the ending is only vaguely happy, but not really? No major character death though

word count: about 2.4k

also no need to read the other fic to understand this

No need to read the other fic tho

It wasn’t the first time Jaskier was accompanying Geralt to Kaer Morhen.

If it were, then maybe Geralt would have been more careful – too worried about whether or not this breakable human would be able to make it up the mountain.

That first time, Geralt’s eyes had not once stopped to scan his surroundings, to search for threats or anything that could make this more uncomfortable for Jaskier than was unavoidable. If Jaskier got hurt or just realised how hard the climb was, he would never want to go with Geralt again. And though it had taken Geralt years to offer Jaskier to stay with him for the winter, now that he had finally build up the courage to do so and Jaskier had agreed with shining eyes, he couldn’t bear the thought of getting rejected in the years to come.

So he had made sure to do everything in his power to prevent that. Be it carefully rationing their supplies so they would last, always making sure any wild animals were well without reach or soothing Jaskier’s irrational worries about how his brothers would react to meeting him, Geralt had been determined to do it all.

This time though, he was careless.

Jaskier didn’t need soothing, he was far too giddy about seeing his other friends again and Geralt’s chest was glowing at hearing Jaskier refer to the other witchers as such.

Despite the hard climb, Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed from more than the cold and exertion and his eyes were full of excitement.

And Geralt - stupid and careless and too easily distracted by his friend’s happiness – was too busy staring at Jaskier to look at the sky as he should have – as he had done every year before.

Because that was the thing about snowstorms. They told you they were coming, if only you knew how to listen. The animals hiding in their caves were telling any travellers that they too should take cover. The fog making it harder to see was telling them to stop, to go no further. The sharp winds would try to push them away, urging them into safer spots. The nervous neighing and stomping of his horse told him that there was danger on the horizon.

Geralt knew all those things. A witcher who didn’t know how to feel a storm approaching was a dead witcher.

And yet, here Geralt was, listening to his friend’s cheerful ramblings and being enraptured by his smiles instead of listening to what nature was trying to tell him.

Occasional brushes of Jaskier’s hands against his and Jaskier’s excitement urged him to go forward, to go as far as they could today instead of taking breaks, so that they would be able to get to their family faster.

If they had taken a break, if it had been the first time making it up the mountain together, if Geralt hadn’t been so foolishly distracted by a pretty smile, he wouldn’t have let himself get lulled into this false sense of security that only shattered when it was already too late.

Towering clouds darkened the sky and the harsh wind teared at their clothing, making it near impossible to go forwards.

Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt saw Jaskier stumble, pushed over by the storm.

Geralt’s hand shot out and grabbed him.

“Jaskier!” He shouted over the roaring of the storm. “Get behind Roach!”

There was no way to tell if Jaskier had understood him, whether his eyes were narrowed because of his confusion of to shield his eyes as best he could from the hale and snow pricking him like a million sharp needles.

Geralt firmly pushed Jaskier, until he stood between Geralt and Roach, praying that it would be enough to shield him from the worst of the wind until they found shelter.

They pressed on, waging war against the storm, fighting a battle they could not hope to win.

For a blissful moment, a memory flickered through Geralt’s mind. A winter spent together in Oxenfurt, huddled together and laughing, all because Geralt had been too slow to reach the mountain in time before it was snowed in. Because he had known risking the climb when the snow had already fallen meant a sure death.

He ground his teeth and urged Jaskier on. They had to get through this. The keep wasn’t far.

They just had to make it through the storm and they would be safe.

They could make it.

They would –

A crack above them cut through the storm. A shrill neighing.

Geralt whirled around just in time to see what Roach had noticed before him; A branch above them was dangerously close to being torn off the tree by the storm.

Roach threw her head back, threatening to tear the reins out of Geralt’s hand. Geralt clenched his jaw and gripped the reins tighter, his free hand trying to form Axii, but his hands were so cold and his fingers wouldn’t obey him.

“Geralt!”

Jaskier’s cry came just in time. Geralt looked up, saw the branch whirl through the air, straight towards them.

Roach was still panicking and Jaskier clung to his cloak as if Geralt weren’t the reason they were in danger, both frozen to their spots, both unable to save themselves.

He had only a split second to make his decision.

It wasn’t much of a choice.

He grabbed Jaskier by the scruff and yanked him to the side, letting go of the reins.

“Geralt?”

Jaskier’s terrified shout wasn’t enough to drown out Roach’s neighing and the thunk of a harsh impact before the neighing cut off abruptly.

“Don’t look,” Geralt said harshly and tugged Jaskier forwards, pulling him closer to himself. “Don’t look. Just keep moving.”

Despite his own words Geralt looked. The snow blurred his vision, making it impossible to see what had happened to Roach. He wasn’t sure if that made it worse.

The only consolation was when he felt Jaskier nodding against him, though shivers seized him and he kept stumbling over his own feet.

Geralt put part of his cloak over Jaskier’s shoulder.

It wasn’t enough.

Jaskier’s skin felt like ice pressed against him. It was a miracle Jaskier was even still standing.

Still, Geralt grit his teeth and half dragged Jaskier onwards until finally, finally he saw a shadow through the snow. The entrance to a cave.

“We’re safe, Jaskier,” he said, his words leaving him in pants. “You’re safe. Just a little bit further. Just a few more steps.”

As soon as they entered the cave and the wind stopped cutting into their skin like blades, Jaskier’s knees gave way. Geralt barely manages to hold him tightly enough to guide him to the ground gently instead of letting him hit it with full force.

He couldn’t say the same about himself. His knees hit the ground with a sharp sting, but he didn’t pay it any attention. He needed to make sure that Jaskier was alright.

As Geralt frantically touched his hands to Jaskier’s face, he could feel Jaskier’s eyes following his every movement, sluggish but thankfully still conscious.

Geralt let out a shuddering breath.

“You’re going to be alright. You hear me, Jaskier? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jaskier’s lips formed words, but no sound came out safe for the chattering of his teeth and the quick breathing. Eventually, his lips just stretched into a hint of a smile that shattered Geralt’s heart.

His mind was racing, thoughts never stopping for long enough to grasp them, except for the one truth that was burned into Geralt’s very being; Jaskier couldn’t die, he needed to keep him safe.

Geralt’s hands trembled and every lungful of air he sucked in stung in his chest, but he pushed it aside. Geralt didn’t have the luxury of giving in. If Geralt caved, Jaskier would be alone, there would be no one here to watch over him, to make sure he survived.

With the strength of a hundred men, Geralt peeled Jaskier out if his clothes. It felt like it took forever. Every movement however gentle jostled Jaskier and made him moan in pain. Geralt tried – he tried to be gentle, but his hands kept failing him and Jaskier kept aching. He cradled Jaskier’s head and lifted him up to get his cloak and jacket off. With every move he made to get Jaskier’s soaked boots and trousers off of him, he risked a glance at Jaskier’s face to see if it pained him. He thanked all the gods he never believed in that at least the inner layer of Jaskier’s clothes had remained dry.

When he had finally managed to get Jaskier out of his wet clothes he felt like he had done an impossible feat. All strength threatened to leave him and an overwhelming exhaustion seeped into his bones, daring him to close his eyes and rest and look after Jaskier another time –

No.

With a harsh shake of his head he pushed himself up, taking the wet clothes and laying them out on the ground at the far end of the cave and started a fire with a quick burst of Igni next to them.

It took far too long for the few pieces of wood that someone else must have left here before to catch fire. But he needed to do this. Jaskier would need warm and dry clothes when the storm was over. When they could continue their way to Kaer Morhen. When Jaskier had survived this. If –

A soft whimper brought him back to Jaskier’s side in a flash.

For a moment, Geralt’s hands hovered helplessly over Jaskier’s trembling body, before shrugging off his own wet closed and lay down next to Jaskier.

He wrapped his arms as tightly as he could around Jaskier without hurting him – he felt so small. Why did Jaskier feel so small and breakable? – and pulled him close until their bodies were pressed together.

Jaskier’s cold fingers came to rest on Geralt’s chest and he was overcome with the overwhelming urge to take them into his own hands, blow hot breath against them and rub them until the feeling returned. Jaskier couldn’t lose his fingers, he needed them; to play, to write, to hold Geralt’s hand when no one else would even look at him, to show him he was there to care for Geralt as Geralt should have cared for him instead of leading him right into a snowstorm.

And yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to heat up Jaskier’s hands, not if he didn’t want to risk Jaskier going into shock.

All he could do was press himself closer against Jaskier, keeping the wind away, giving him heat, making sure he knew he wasn’t alone just in case Jaskier wasn’t going to – Geralt couldn’t finish that thought.

He just shut his eyes tightly. Whenever a violent tremble wrecked Jaskier’s body, Geralt ran his hand up and down his back and started whispering in his ear.

“You are going to be warm again. In Kaer Morhen you can have all the blankets and sit in front of the fire place.” They would get there. They had to.

“When we get out of here you can have a hot bath. That’ll be nice, don’t you think?” Not nearly as nice and warming as one of Jaskier’s smiles.

“Remember the sun? Remember how warm it feels on your skin?” Not nearly as warm as Jaskier’s hand felt in his when he reached for him to show him something beautiful he had found.

He clung to these thoughts, to how he would see Jaskier smile and feel his warm hand in his again.

He didn’t know how long it took until the howling of the wind finally quieted down enough that he could hear Jaskier’s heartbeat again, beating in his chest like a hummingbird’s wings and yet so faint, so frail.

Until it slowed to its familiar rhythm and grew stronger again at last.

“Geralt?”

The voice was quiet and raspy, but it was the most beautiful sound Geralt had ever heard.

Geralt let out a sharp breath that could have been a sob if he had had the strength for one and buried his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck. His hands wandered to Jaskier’s head and cradled it, running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair.

“You are safe,” He whispered over and over. He didn’t care that the words tumbled out of his mouth like water rushing into a river after the ice had thawed. “You are safe.”

“Of course I am.” Gentle hands found Geralt’s face and ghosted over his cheeks. “I am with you.”

Though the words twisted his stomach into a painful knot, Geralt’s lips tugged into a brittle smile as he pressed them against the top of Jaskier’s head, silently vowing to make the words a truth.

Later, when Jaskier was safe to be on his own for a bit, wrapped in his fire-warmed clothes, Geralt would go out there again in search for Roach and all they had left with her; his swords, the supplies, Jaskier’s lute.

When he came back to Jaskier he would thaw the snow and make a soup, guiding Jaskier’s hand holding the spoon while holding his head upright until Jaskier would be strong enough to leave the cave.

Jaskier might try to walk or Geralt might start carrying him from the very beginning, if only so he could feel Jaskier close, feel his warmth and his steady heart that was no longer fluttering like a bird dreading to fall.

However long it would take them, they would make it to Kaer Morhen, where they would be surrounded by warm laughter, embraces and words from a family that wouldn’t hesitate even a moment to help Jaskier get back enough strength to return their smiles in earnest.

And when they would finally sit together again and Jaskier would laugh and sing and joke with his brothers as if he had never been in danger of never doing any of that again, Geralt would renew his promise. To do anything in his power to never let it get this far again that he would have to hold Jaskier in his arms, fearing for his life with only his heartbeat to cling to.

#What do I do when I want to describe one very specific scene that would probably only take a handful of sentences?#Why keep on adding details about what happened before of course #Editing? I don’t think so #I’d say I will edit it if I ever put this on ao3 #But I think we all know how that’s gonna go #thank you so mcuh for the prompt!#hypothermia #animal death #angst #angsty ending #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #witcher #fic #my writing #prompt #Birds still sing when they fall from the sky #i guess #ask and you shall receive

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writing-reylo · 5 years ago

Text

The One with The Miscommunication

Rey’s heart is pounding as her Uber pulls up to the restaurant. It’s within walking distance, but she didn’t want to risk arriving with sweat glistening in her forehead, so she spent the money. And that’s how serious she was about this; that’s how much this date meant to her. Her first date with Ben was worth spending unnecessary money so that she could look her best.

Ben Solo. Tall, built like a sky rise, so handsome he made her heart hurt. Her best friend. Her favourite person in the whole world.

She loved him so much she would risk their friendship for this opportunity to be more.

Asking him had been the most nerve-wracking thing she had ever done.

“Hey Ben, do you want to go to The Castle for dinner tonight?” She’d asked him, palms sweaty and heart racing this morning as they walked into the building they both worked in, separate companies and different floors.

They’d met when the elevator had gotten stuck a year before and had bonded over the shared trauma of being stuck twenty floors above nothing in a small metal box.

He’d smiled at her. “Of course.” She’s grinned at him as the elevator moved upwards. “I’ll see you at 7 then. It’s a date,” she’d replied, shooting him a smile as the elevator arrived at her floor.

“You can do this girl,” she whispers to herself as she looks through the glass. Ben hasn’t arrived yet but there is still ten minutes to go and Ben is chronically on time for things, while Rey feels odd if she isn’t at least a few minutes early.

She thinks about walking inside and waiting but the air is cool and despite taking the Uber, she can feel her body has developed a fine layer of sweat anyway.

She looks down at the black heels she rarely wears and wonders what he’ll think. She’d only ever worn them once where he’d seen and she had remembered the way his eyes had drifted down her legs, bare but for her cocktail dress that ended two inches above her knees.

She remembered the way his hand had twitched when he’d danced with her and realised her dress was backless as his hand had met bare flesh.

She’d wanted to kiss him that night so badly, but had lost her courage after he’d gotten into an argument with his Father that had ended with Ben drinking too much whiskey and Rey sleeping above the covers next to him to make sure he didn’t choke in his sleep.

But now, now she was ready.

She giggles under her breath, giddy and nervous, before looking up and seeing his car pull into a spot a short walk away.

She smooths down the front of her forest green sweater dress and takes a deep breath before running her tongue over her teeth, making sure none of the blood red lipstick she is wearing has transferred.

She is resisting the urge to pull up her phone camera and double check when she hears footsteps approaching.

She’s grinning widely when she looks up at him, her heart already at risk of exploding before every muscle in her body freezes.

He’s not alone.

Her smile drops so suddenly she imagines it must have looked almost comical as she takes in her best friend, in a button up the exact colour of her dress that would make her laugh under different circumstances. But she can’t laugh because he’s standing next to their friends Hux and Rose.

Her heart seizes before restarting and she can feel the fissure tears forming all over the organ.

He has invited people on their date, which has made it no longer a date.

Her heart beat once, twice and she inhaled shakily before looking up at Ben.

He was looking at her and she knew what he would be seeing. The makeup, the hair she’d painstakingly curled and brushed until it was perfect and shiny. The dress and shoes in place of her usual jeans and converse.

She watches him blink slowly as he looks at her with wide eyes that she loves so much but, in this moment, make her want to cry.

“Hi,” she says, sounding soft and timid and so unlike herself that she wishes desperately she was already inside with a drink in her hand. A large one.

“Hey,” Ben responds, and she watches as he swallows and fuck her, this is so awkward.

“Rey!” Her dearest female friend exclaims, coming forward to hug her. Rose’s pregnant belly juts out in between them and Rey finds herself, giggling as she embraces her friend, taking a few shaky breaths she knows Rose can hear.

“I didn’t realise, I’m so sorry,” Rose whispers into her hair and Rey shrugs into the hug.

They pull apart and Rey smiles at her, not the grin of before but as close as she can get with the rejection swimming around her. “How much longer until my little Goddaughter arrives?” She asks, though she knows the answer. Little Paige isn’t here yet, but Rey already loves the girl so dearly.

“Three weeks,” Hux answers with a smile. He’s become more personable in the three years she’s known him, and he no longer has resting sneer face. “Everything is ready, we’re just waiting on her now.”

“Putting that crib together almost made me cry,” Rey responds, and they all laugh, except Ben, but Rey can’t look at him just yet.

They make their way into the restaurant, Ben still silent as they hang their coats and make their way to the hostess.

“Welcome to The Castle. Do you have a reservation?” The hostess asks and Rey can feel her face redden as she responds.

“I had made a reservation for two under Niima, but I was hoping you have a free table for four?”

She can see Ben’s fists clenched beside her and ignores it while she waits for the hostess, who thankfully does have a bigger table and leads them to it.

The smell of garlic and bread permeate the air, making Rey’s stomach growl loudly.

“Holy shit Rey, you need to get that under control,” Hux responds with a laugh as they slide into the booth.

“She had to work through lunch- “

“I had to work through lunch- “

She and Ben say at the same time, looking up at one another with surprise. They each halt and lock gazes for a few moments. It’s okay, she tells herself as she looks into his warm coffee eyes, he still loves you, just not the same way you do and that’s okay.

“Jinx,” she smiles softly, breaking the silence and she watches him relax a fraction.

Rose distracts them all them, discussing the baby and Rey is eternally grateful to her friend as they order drinks.

She pushes the rejection down into the same box with all of her other hurts and closes the lid tightly, promising herself the rest of the weekend to have tequila, Thai food and The Office to mourn what never would be.

—-

She makes it through dinner hiding her wound. It still throbs but she manages to hide it beneath self-depreciating jokes and glasses of white wine to take the edge off.

Ben is quieter than normal, but Rose and Hux fulfil their duties as friends to ease the tension between the God Parents of their unborn baby.

Ben stands to go to the bathroom and Rose orders dessert and Rey finds she can breathe a little easier as he walks away.

“So, what the fudge is going on?” Hux demands to know as soon as Ben has left the room. Rey raises an eyebrow at the word fudge, and he rolls his eyes. “We’re trying to be good parents.”

“Was this supposed to be a date?” Rose asks Rey so softly that it almost makes Rey break, the tone gentle and maternal. Rey lets out a shaky breath and nods. “But Ben invited us.”

“Yeah,” Rey replies quietly.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry,” Rose whispers, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing.

“I thought we were on the same page,” Rey explains. “So, I went for it, you know? I guess we’re in different places.”

“Rey, I’m pretty sure you’re wrong,” Rose says, but before they can say anything else, Ben is back, and dessert is arriving.

He smiles at Rey softly as the waiter lowers a plate of cheesecake in front of him but then frowns when nothing in placed in front of her.

“You didn’t get dessert?” He asks, puzzled.

She shakes her head. “I’m full.”

He looks at her in bewilderment. “But you’re never full.”

She laughs and it sounds only slightly fake. “I’m not hungry, I swear.”

He drops it and everyone except Rey eats their dessert. She tries not to stare at the clock and orders her Uber before the waiter is even taking their plates.

Her Uber arrives as they’re putting their coats on and Ben speaks his longest sentence of the night. “Do you want me to give you a lift home?”

She is more than a little relieved to have an excuse. “My Uber is here.”

She thinks she sees his shoulders fall but knows she’s probably projecting as she rushes through goodbyes with Rose and Hux.

She hesitates slightly before hugging Ben and she sees him notice, frowning as his arms wrap around her. She tries not to inhale his scent, but the smell of peppermint, coffee and bergamot somehow make their way into her nostrils despite her efforts and she fights not to tighten her embrace.

It’s over in less than a few seconds but feels like forever when her arms drop.

She’s escaping into the Uber in almost no time at all, and the driver is pulling away from the curb by the time the first tear falls.

———————————————————————

In no time at all, the driver is pulling up the store at the corner of her street, wishing her a (very awkward) goodnight. She wipes her face before entering the store, taking measures and controlled breaths as she fills a cart with tequila, limes, ginger ale and all of her favourite snacks.

The owner, Maz, says nothing as she rings Rey up, taking in the tear stains on her face. “The alcohol is on me, honey,” the woman says, and Rey feels her eyes fill with tears once more.

She is able to keep a hold of herself as she walks to her building, letting herself in and taking the elevator to her floor.

She’s considering taking a shot or two to take the edge off when she looks up and sees Ben sitting with his back pressed against her door, legs stretched out in front of him. He has his phone in his hand, but he’s only turning it over and over.

Three shots then, she decides.

“Hey,” she says, and he looks up at her, eyes wide and she watches as he rushes to his feet, clearing his throat.

“Hi,” he replies softly.

“Can I get through?” She asks and he moves wordlessly, shuffling so that she can unlock her apartment door.

They both enter without saying a word and she carries her shopping to her kitchen island, dropping it, pulling out the bottle of tequila and making her way to the cupboard where she keeps her shot glasses. She takes one and Ben starts to talk but she raises a hand, meeting his eyes as she pulls the plastic from the lid, unscrews it and pours a shot.

He frowns at her as she lifts the small glass to her lips, downing the liquid and then taking a deep breath before meeting his eyes once more.

“Okay,” she says and watches as he swallows.

“It was supposed to be a date,” he says quietly, softly. She blinks slowly, before breaking eye contact and pours herself another shot. “You asked me on a date.”

“I asked you on a date,” she confirms, meeting his gaze for a tenth of a second before downing a second shot.

“You asked me on a date, and I invited our friends,” he states, and she flinches. He startles in response and takes a step forward.

The island is between them, but she takes a step back anyway. He notices.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, and she stares at the heels still on her feet and avoids his gaze.

She hears him move closer and she looks up, her heart almost shattering at his expression.

He is looking at her like she once saw him look at a frightened dog in a shelter they volunteered at, like she was going to bolt any second. In his defence, she feels as though she might.

“Rey, I didn’t realise it was a date until I saw you,” he explains gently, taking another step forward. She takes another step backwards, her lower back pressing against her countertop. “I thought it was just another dinner, until I saw that dress. I didn’t realise it was supposed to just be you and me.”

His dark eyes are consuming as they bore into hers and she breathes unsteadily as she breaks his gaze to stare down at the bottle of tequila, wishing she’d just popped a straw into the bottle and called it a night.

He says nothing for a moment and neither can she. She isn’t sure that anything would even come out of her mouth if she did open it to speak. Her broken heart is pounding and she doesn’t know what to do.

“Rey,” he says softly and she closes her eyes, trying to hide the moisture in them, but a tear falls down her cheek anyway. She lifts a shaking hand to wipe it away.

“Rey,” he repeats, closer this time but she doesn’t open her eyes. She’s never felt like more of a coward.

She feels a warm touch on her chin. “Sweetheart look at me,” he whispers, in a soft, gentle tone she’d never heard him use before.

She opens her eyes and he’s there, so close she can feel the heat radiating from his body, can smell his minty shampoo that costs so much it had made him blush when admitting it.

He’s right there, and he’s looking at her with the softest expression on his face, his lips curved into the slightest of smiles. His hands move to cup her face, thumbs sweeping along her cheekbones.

“Rey,” he whispers, and the way he says her name threatens to break her apart for the second time tonight. “I never could have thought – I couldn’t imagine – I didn’t- “

She tries to move away but he doesn’t let her, a frustrated sound slipping from his lips. “I’m not explaining this right.”

“Ben, you don’t have to let me down gently,” she whispers hoarsely. “It’s okay if you don’t see me that way.”

He blinks and his head jerks in shock, hands twitching against her face. “See you that way?” he repeats, but it sounds like a question.

“Romantically, I mean. I’m happy to still be friends, if you’re okay with that. I don’t want to lose you from my life just because you don’t feel the way that I do.” The words hurt as they come out, but she can’t stop them or the tone of desperation that sneaks out with them. She can’t lose him.

“And how do you feel?” he asks her, in the tone she’s heard him use a hundred times before, when someone is pissing him off.

“How do I feel?”

His eyes narrow and his hands drop from her face to grab at her clenched fists. They open automatically at his touch and suddenly her hands are engulfed in his. “About me, Rey. How do you feel about me?”

There is no escape from this, she realises quickly. There is no way that he will let her avoid this conversation. Her hands tremble beneath his.

She looks at him, at the man who has become her best friend. His eyes are wide and bright, and she feels every blink a loss of their splendour. There has barely been a night in six months that she hasn’t dreamed about these eyes. They’d been the first thing she’d noticed about him the night that elevator had stopped and their gazes had locked, wide and alarmed.

“I love you, Ben” she says before she can stop herself, before she can filter it with something less permanent, something easier to take back.

He closes his eyes then, for three seconds that feel like lifetimes. She feels as though she has lived many lifetimes when he opens them again.

They are glistening with unshed tears.

“You love me?” his voice is hoarse, his breath jagged.

“Yes, but- “she isn’t able to finish, isn’t able to speak as his mouth presses against hers in a kiss her body has been waiting for for months. His mouth is soft, so incredibly gentle against her own and she cannot help the gasp that slips from her, her mouth opening beneath his.

He lets go of her hands and less than a second later they are sliding into her hair, at the exact moment his tongue is moving into her mouth, brushing expertly against her own.

She had spent long nights thinking about kissing Ben Solo, had run hundreds of scenarios of what kissing him would be like. Her most replayed had been wild, hungry. She had expected Ben to kiss her like he was starving.

The reality was Ben kissing her so carefully, his mouth sweeping against hers so intentionally, that she can feel herself starting to unravel. His tongue sweeps along hers in measured strokes that make her knees weak. He kisses her the way she once watched him eat an ice cream cone, so expertly that none had melted over his had the way that hers had. His hands are twisted in her hair and hers are tangled in his and she has never felt so alive.

He kisses her and she knows she’ll never be the same.

She had loved him before, as her friend, as her potential partner. But now, now she knew that the chemistry she had thought between them wasn’t the inferno she’d worried would set her ablaze, but instead a steady, intense heat that warmed her from the inside out. She was worried she’d be consumed by the flames, but instead, she knew that she could flourish beneath this sunlight.

He pulls her closer and she whimpers beneath his mouth, those careful kisses slowly pulling her to pieces. He pulls away then, pressing his forehead against her own as they each gasp for breath.

Her hands move from his hair to rest along his neck and she can feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, a pounding concerto to match her own.

He moves forward again, but instead of her lips, he kisses her cheeks, her nose, the corner of her mouth. Soft, whispers of kisses. Rey feels her eyes fill with tears once more. One falls and he kisses it away

“Rey,” he whispers, pulling back to look at her. His expression is open, happy, one he often wears when they are alone. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

She blinks. Once, twice.

He smiles at her then, eyes alight with a tenderness that looks different than it did a moment ago, somehow.

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out and she closes it again, her thoughts a jumbled mess, trying to make sense of this new information.

I love you so much, sweetheart.

The words play over and over as he continues to watch her, smile still firmly in place.

“You love me?” she finally asks and she watches a tear fall from his right eye as he chuckles.

“I have been in love with you almost as long as I have known you,” he tells her, leaning forward to press more kisses against her skin. “Deeply, insanely, completely.”

He keeps kissing her and before she can stop herself, she can feel her lips lifting into a smile. He kisses the corners of her mouth.

“You love me even though I ruined your cashmere sweater by running it through the wash?” she asks, remembering the way he’d clenched his jaw when she’d sheepishly presented him with remains of the black mess.

“So much,” he tells her, moving his hands down to her neck, along her shoulders and down her arms until his hands are wrapped around her waist. She resists the urge to look down to see how far his giant hands reach around. She’s spent many a night wondering if his fingertips would touch at the back.

“You love me even though I threw out your suspicious smelling Vietnamese leftovers?” he asks her and her body shakes with her laughter. She’d been so mad at him.

“So much, Ben,” she says as he pulls back to smile at her. It’s both the same and different to every other smile he’s ever given her. She loves his smile, knowing that he doesn’t do it often makes her feel like she’s won something every time he gifts her with one.

“You love me even though I think red wine is abhorrent?” She remembers the look on his face when she’d spat out the sip he’d made her try all over his pristine kitchen counter.

“Even though,” he laughs, pulling her into his body, until almost all of her his pressed against him. She can feel the hardness between his legs against her stomach.

“You love me even though I didn’t realise tonight was a date and asked our friends to come? Even though I had thought for a second before realising there would be no way you’d want me like that, that maybe you did? Even though when I saw you on that sidewalk, I saw how beautiful you were and realised how much of a coward I’ve been since I realised how I felt about you?”

“You’re my favourite person in the world Ben,” she tells him softly. “There’s not a but here for me, no even thoughs. I love you as you are, for everything that you are.”

“I love you, too. For everything that you are.”

He kisses her again and for the first time in her life, Rey Niima has everything she has ever wanted.

The End.

Hey 👋🏻 it’s been a minute. Like a lot of people, TROS kinda felt like a kick in teeth for me and it’s taken me a while to get back into fic writing during COVID (I’m an essential worker, and it’s been tough). Anyway, this one was a bit long, but I hope you liked it. And I hope it made up a little for my absence ❤️

#reylo #reylo trash #ben solo #kylo x rey #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #rey #reylo au

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septnautical · 5 years ago

Text

Meeting Grim

Jackie swam agitatedly in circles by the Aurora, pulling at his hair and growling under his breath.

“Fucking… white suits! Things were finally okay… why-? Why did they have to come and ruin everything?!” He screams at the end, his roar rocking debris from where it was buried in the sand and sending nearby prey fish scrambling away in fear. The merman pulled at his hair, trying to reel his anger in. If he wasn’t careful… he could hurt someone.

Then, he heard a roar in the distance. His head whipped up- and he smiled. He knew that roar by now!

In a hurry, the Reaper mer shot down towards the sand behind the Aurora, eyes eagerly searching for a sign. A hint of murky blue and dark red- another roar. He turned, and was meet face to face with who he was searching for.

Mama Grim appeared in front of Jackie and came in closer, blowing a bunch of warm bubbles in his face followed by a roar. Jackie grinned and swam up to the large reaper, wrapping his arms around one of her mandibles. The reaper made a low grumble that made Jackie smile- especially after she tried to bump her face against the smaller boy.

“I missed you too,” Jackie said, patting down on her head. Mama Grim swirled around in a circle before coming back up and nudging Jackie. Actually nudging was too gentle a word- she was trying to toss him back as she made a playful growl.

Jackie blinked, then grinned back at her, his fangs flashing. His tail swished under him in anticipation as he flexed his hands and his claws sharpened at his fingertips. “You really get me, Grims. This is exactly what I needed!”

The older reaper roared in challenge, trying to knock Jackie into the resulting current. Jackie was fast though- he had a bit more speed than her because of his size. He used his hands to break through the current, then gave his own roar. He flung out his mandibles and managed to nick the reaper’s face. Jackie laughed and quickly ducked the reaper’s attempt to nip at him. She blew out bubbles in a huff- and before Jackie could brace himself he was getting a full reaper tail straight to the face.

He sailed through the water towards the ground, then rolled a bit in the cloud of sand. But, he quickly shook it off and grinned up at Mama Grim. She always knew how to give Jackie a challenge when he needed it. He roared at her, and she returned it, getting closer to his face to make the dust blow up again around Jackie in a big puff. Jackie laughed and tried to wave the sand away from his eyes. “Hey! No fair!” He tried to tease- inching towards the reaper’s face. Mama Grim made a playful clicking noise with her teeth, getting closer… then Jackie seized the moment to swoop out his tail to smack sand in her face.

The older reaper bellowed out and shook her whole body. Jackie threw back his head and fell back on the sand as he laughed. Mama Grim made a small growl and pushed her snout against Jackie’s belly. The merman giggled and tried to push her away. Mama Grim pushes further and tries to snag a tooth on Jackie’s hood. Jackie really fought back at that, laughing, “hey! I don’t have many of these! Careful!” Eventually, the teasing got them into a little wrestling match- Jackie trying to shove the mighty reaper back with his arms and tail strength while Mama Grim used her mandibles.

It’s been a while since he came to see the Reaper. Getting Jack and Anti back had really taken up his time. And while it was so great to have his family coming back together, he felt bad that he neglected his other family. But, Mama Grim always picks up right where they last left off, and Jackie needed that. He needed some familiarity in these uncertain waters- and he needed someone to be with that could take his punches.

Jackie’s arms shook as he tried to fight against the Reaper’s mandibles. He swore he felt some give. Mama Grim blew water out of her clenched teeth and Jackie had to close his eyes with a laugh. Then, he felt a slip in the reaper’s stride- and Jackie took that opportunity. He quickly locked his arms around one of her mandibles then used his own as leverage as he turned the reaper, flipping to throw her back through the water. The reaper made a surprised noise but quickly righted herself then looped to roar at Jackie. He roared back through giddy giggles. He was getting stronger!

Hopefully he’d be strong enough to keep his brothers safe from those new white suits. The thought of that changes his expression, his face setting into a frown. Mama Grim waited for a second before flicking out her tail to light thwack Jackie to get his attention back. He blinked at her and she snorted then tapped her tail twice against the sand. Their little way of showing that they were gonna train. Jackie’s eyes got a spark back into them and he smiled at the reaper. Then, with mandibles outstretched far, he dove straight towards the reaper with a yell.

But- something aimed to stop him. A black and blue blur-stark violet eyes.

“Jackie!” Zara shouted, hands outstretched towards him. “Don’t do this! Don’t hurt them!”

“Z-Zara?!” Was all Jackie really had time to say before the two of them collided and fell back to the seabed. Jackie had fallen on top of Zara and he quickly spit out sand before retracting his mandibles and helping the girl up. She rubbed at her shoulder and checked to make sure her tank wasn’t busted.

Jackie stared at her with wide eyes, “Zara- I… what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Zara had a grumpy expression as she massaged her shoulder. “JJ told me you hang out here when you’re upset… he’s the only one of you I’ve seen today since….” Zara looked up and saw the faint trails of yellow leaking into the water, which got her back on track.

“Oh- never mind that!” She exclaimed before getting a bit too close to Jackie’s face, eyes a bit icy. “Why are you attacking some random reaper? Do you have a death wish?! And I thought you were working on your anger-!”

Jackie blinked more in confusion, “w-what? No Zara- it isn’t what you think-!”

Their conversation gets interrupted by a wave of warm bubbles flowing over the couple, and four beady reaper eyes staring right at the newcomer. She bared her teeth and gave a low growl. Zara couldn’t help but scream and then cling to Jackie as she hid slightly behind him.

The merman looked between the two in more confusion. Then he tried to turn Zara to see, taking her hand. “Hey Z- relax! She won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Zara slowly lifted her head from Jackie’s shoulder, but looked perplexed as to why she wasn’t fish bait right now. She looked to the reaper nervously. “H-how can you be so sure- you were just attacking her!”

Jackie can’t help but laugh. He holds out a hand in front of him and the reaper’s posture relaxes. She goes to settle in the sand, hitting her tail three times against the sea floor before she laid down and put the base of her horned head in Jackie’s palm.

“Well… cuz- she’s my mom.” Jackie said simply, patting the reaper’s head then looking back to Zara. The girl stares at the display with a dumbfounded expression.

Then, her eyebrows furrow as she processes that- “Wait- mom? Like, you got your reaper dna from her?”

The reaper mer cocks his head at that then shakes his head. “Well- I dunno… but I don’t think so…” he hums as he relaxes and looks back to the resting Reaper. “She just… feels like what a mom should be… as far as I know at least. When I got injured right after meeting Dr. Danan… she helped take care of me.” He smiles fondly and pats Mama Grim again. She grumbles back in response.

“She did more than that actually,” Jackie rememised. “She taught me how to hunt better, learn reaper body language, and fight. And when I got infec- intefect…?”

“Infected?” Zara offers and Jackie nods eagerly.

“Yeah yeah! That!” He beams, then continues while looking at the sea floor, flicking his tail in an anxious motion. “I… I couldn’t get up cuz I had a bad fever. So, Mama Grim got me, and looked around for my brothers to help-“

Zara raises an eyebrow with a smile, “Mama Grim?”

Jackie flushes and looks away as he tries to stammer. “Oh uh,.. y-yeah… that’s the name I gave her.”

The blue suit giggles into her hand then lays a hand on his tail. “It suits her Jackie.”

He beamed at her with a smile that could light up the whole ocean.

Mama Grim made a noise that sounded almost like a question, nudging her head against Jackie then looking towards Zara. The girl couldn’t help but whimper slightly and hide behind Jackie again. She’d always had seen the Reapers as hungry, scary creatures of the dark sea… whose soulless back eyes held no mercy. But… this reaper did seem- a bit different. Maybe she just never got to know them like Jackie had.

Jackie chuckles slightly at Zara before gently tugging on her arm to help her glide forward. “C’mon Zara! Sounds like she wants to meet you-“

“R-Really?” Zara stammered with a nervous smile. “A-aah jackie-! I… I don’t know-!”

“It’s okay Z!” Jackie quietly encouraged, then Zara felt a slight push as the merman announced, “Mama Grim! This is Zara!”

Before she knew it she was right in front of the reaper. Her muscles seemed to tighten up on their own but she tried to wave. Mama Grim tilted her head at Zara and seemed to study her, head rising off the sand to tower over the girl. Zara swallowed nervously, trying not to focus on those giant razor sharp teeth, perfectly set into a cartoon villain-like grin.

After what felt like an eternity, Mama Grim shifted then bent down and blew bubbles in Zara’s face. She could feel them tickling against her suit and she giggled at the sensation. Jackie cheered then went to hug Zara from behind.

“She likes you!” He roared in happiness.

Zara giggles and elbows Jackie in the stomach slightly. “How do you know, fish boy?”

Jackie grinned and puffed out his chest mightedly, “Uh- I’m King of the Reapers, duh?”

There was a huff before Mama Grim plopped back down into the sand and roared at Jackie, making the ground shake and current rush by. But, not enough to blow Zara and him away. She then dug her tail slightly in the sand before flicking it at Jackie. The merman coughed at the sand, rubbing against his face. Zara covered her mouth as she laughed. She swam over and helped get the dust out of his hair.

“It seems like she disagrees with you, mighty reaper king~” She teased.

Jackie blushed then messed with the back of his hair. “Oh well- if I’m the king- and she’s my mom, she’d be queen of the reapers!”

“Wouldn’t that make you the prince?”

“Listen, I just know the names! I dunno how that human ruler stuff works!”

Zara laughed again and Mama Grim huffed bubbles at them in amusement.

#reaper jackie #huffle tales #sepnautical main story #zara caley #zarkie #mama grim #refugee arc

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oyesmendes · 5 years ago

Text

the past felt better - (it was you - the extras)

a/n: an extra piece to it was you for the anon! here is part 1 and part 2

The only words you've said

Is I like it when you hug me

Cause I kind of feel you love me

Girl, I've never never loved you

But something went wrong

Like our colours faded

Can you feel it in the air?

And in the way you're staring, babe

“You listening to that song again, sis?”

“Yeah” she sighed as her brother kissed her cheek.

It had been two years since that day, and one year since Shawn released the song. When Y/N first heard it on the radio in the car alone, she had to pull over to the side of the road so she didn’t crash. Every word that he sung, she could feel his pain through the music, the flashback to the night they broke up and the words they never said. Shawn never reached out after the song released even though it was a hit. He toured the world, playing stadiums for hundreds and thousands of fans every night. And he kept a tight lid on the inspiration for the song in every interview, but Y/N knew. She knew what every word meant to him and to her. They spent the last year dodging each other, which was easier said than done, especially when they were both so invested in the music industry.

She kept in touch with Camila, who had moved on and found someone special. Hell, her boyfriend was already asking Y/N to help choose engagement rings so he could propose to her. Y/N on the other hand, moved back home to Pickering the last couple of months. She had broken up with Mike a few weeks after the song release, the nastiest of breakups anyone could ever imagine. The apartment was absolutely thrashed with broken glasses and pillows strewn on the floor, and the air was filled with words they could never take back. He eventually kissed her on the forehead as she sat on the floor and they said their goodbyes. Y/N could’ve stayed, and in fact her parents wanted her to stay in LA so she wouldn’t have to shuttle between the 2 countries so frequently. But the apartment and the city held too many memories of Mike she eventually had to pack up and leave.

“Welcome home, brother” Aaliyah hugged Shawn tightly. He relaxed into his sisters arms, a loud exasperated sigh coming from his lips. It had been the longest leg of the tour yet - 6 months non-stop on the road, and now he was finally back on the ground in Toronto. He fell into the car pretty quickly, with Aaliyah at the wheel to drive them home. The soft humming from the radio filled the silence as Shawn admired the city skyline. More often than not, he let his mind wander to how she was doing and how different the situation could’ve been.

“Y’know, Y/N’s in town” that was one way to bring her brother out of his daydream.

“Huh? Isn’t she in LA?”

“Nope, came back couple weeks ago. Heard from mom that she and Mike didn’t work out” Aaliyah gave her brother a soft smile, knowing that such news would hit him hard. He remained silent for the rest of the ride, his mind filled only with the thoughts of her.

“Hey sweetheart” Y/N’s mom peeked through the door to the homebuilt “studio”. It was small but well equipped and very useful whenever Y/N couldn’t or didn’t want to fly to LA for a studio session with whatever snobby artists she had thrown at her. She removed her headphones, the new track she had just been given still playing loudly through them.

“Just heard from Karen that Shawn’s back in town”

“Oh yeah?” Her mother nodded, frowning at the lack of excitement from her daughter. But the truth is Y/N didn’t know how to react to the news. All this time spent on avoiding Shawn whenever she was in LA could go down the drain now that they were both back in their small hometown.

“Yeah, we’re going to have them over for dinner some time this week. If you’re okay with that?”

“Sure mom, that’d be nice” Oh the lies.

A couple of days have passed and both Shawn and Y/N had been able to avoid seeing each other without putting in much effort. Shawn would visit the gym, meet up with some friends for food then sometimes pick Aaliyah up from school if she needed a ride. And Y/N spent most of her days holed up in her mini studio, only making daily coffee runs to the Lakeside Cafe for her dose of hot chai tea. Today was no different, she was at the cafe at 10AM, waiting by the counter for her order when she heard a familiar laugher fill the air. Shawn.

It seemed as if they sensed each others presence, both stopping to stare at the other for a couple seconds too long. Shawn saw Y/N first and his breath was immediately caught in his throat. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered - her hair had grown just past her shoulders, the natural waves framing her face nicely. She had that familiar warm smile that never left her face since she was a child, her brown eyes igniting a flame in his chest when they met with his. Y/N felt speechless as well when she saw Shawn, he definitely grew bigger, his muscles more defined and did he grow taller? His eyes were softer, hair grown just a little bit longer than usual and she actually liked it. Shawn gave her a small nod, ordering his drink at the counter before making his way to her. He was nervous to say the least, he hadn’t seen her in a few years and he had no words. Sure, he kept up with her Instagram from time to time but seeing her in person - it felt like an out of body experience. She returned the nod with a smile, grabbing her drink and gesturing to the booths. Y/N made a conscious decision to choose a different booth from the last time, thought it’d benefit them both to wipe out the bad memories. Shawn grabbed his drink soon after, joining Y/N at the booth.

“Hey you”

“Hey Shawnie boy” Shawn couldn’t help but let out a smile when she said his nickname. Y/N decided to let her defences down, and the pair fell into conversation easily. She told him about the trip to Miami, about Mike, and Shawn couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. It felt like their first date at a run down diner in Nashville where Shawn was having one of his very first shows. And the nerves he felt now was definitely comparable, if not more than the first time he laid her eyes on her. He knew this was God putting his chances in front of him, and he was going to seize it.

“So the song…” She tried to dance around the topic but it got to a point where talking about it was probably her best shot. Shawn took in a deep breath, hands wrapped around the mug tightly. He couldn’t find the right words to use, the silence growing between them.

“Its okay, I understand”

“No no you don’t. I wanted to play it for you on that day but my mouth decided to run and I ruined the moment. And we were both avoiding each other after so I thought my best chance to make my point was to release it”

Y/N reached forward to squeeze his hand, making him look up to meet her eyes. There he saw it - the reason he kept coming back to her. Her eyes held so much light and when you look deeper into them, you could see stories that would slowly unfold. The past that made her stronger, kinder and the most beautiful woman anyone could ever imagine. He leaned in and she did too, their lips barely touching as he nosed her cheek. Her hand brushed his jawline, lightly tracing it to the back of his head. Shawn must admit he missed these light touches, the intimacy and feeling of it all. He intertwined both their hands and he was squeezing them tight. In that moment everything fell into the right places. Their hearts were in the right places.

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes blurb

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fictorium · 5 years ago

Note

For the supercat promts: 33.

“Prove it.”

Kara freezes in mid-thought. Just a moment ago she’d lifted the weight of years, by finally admitting to Cat Grant of all people, that Kara is completely and unavoidably in love with her. The elation of speaking the words, the relief as the nerves finally abated, all of that had been an emotional cocktail comparable only to the sensation of flying.

And in response?

“Prove. It.”

Cat repeats her simple words with more emphasis, withdrawing to her side of the bed and pulling the luxurious linen sheet closer to her naked body. The sheets were crisp and unwrinkled when they stumbled into this bedroom two hours ago; they’re anything but that now.

Kara sits up, jarred from her relaxed position at Cat’s side. Her fingers are still flexing as though to keep stroking Cat’s hair.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Kara searches Cat’s face for some hint of a smirk, but instead she’s greeted only with Cat’s most guarded expression. Somewhere between haughty and terrified, and utterly gorgeous as ever. “I just told you that I love you--that I’m in love with you--and you’re asking for proof?”

Cat gives a maddening little shrug, pursing her lips in that way she has where she’s trying to pretend she doesn’t care but really the whole world is riding on it.

“This isn’t an article. I don’t have to cite my sources. I know that I love you. Me. You. Love. I’m the authority on the subject because I am the subject! And I love you, Cat. Don’t think for one minute that you can talk me out of it.”

“Oh, I could absolutely talk you out of it.” There’s a glint in Cat’s eye then, one that would make most sane people start backing away. “Starting with the fact that I quite specifically told you not to, the first time we ever kissed.”

“Right, but you can’t--”

“No, I was quite clear. You planted that old Hollywood dip-and-kiss smacker right on my lips, and as soon as I caught my breath I warned you. I said, “don’t fall in love with me, Kara Danvers”. You just laughed, but look what happened.”

“I thought you were just trying to play it cool.” Kara hears a ringing in her ears suddenly. She’s been so intent on actually getting the words out--for weeks now, really--that not once has she stopped to consider that Cat wouldn’t love her back. That the idea of love at all might cause Cat to get bored with her, or kick Kara to the curb for having the presumption.

Oh. Oh no.

“I am ‘cool’,” Cat replies, but where she clutches the sheet, Kara can see that her knuckles are white. “And I’m sure you think you’re in love with me, three orgasms in a row will do that to most people, but I assure you that kind of thing wears off by morning.”

It’s just a fraction too cold, a little bit too polished. Kara almost believes her, but then she catches the nervous sideways glance from Cat, seeing how her words have landed. She’s not trying to scare Kara away, not really. Cat wants Kara to prove her love for both their sakes, because being with Cat Grant outside of hotels and late-night visits isn’t something that can be given easily. It’s a right that a person has to earn, and Kara is sure for once that she is more than worthy.

“It hasn’t yet,” Kara says, edging across the mattress and reaching out to touch Cat’s cheek with fingers that only tremble a little. “Do you really think the idea just popped into my head and I blurted it out?”

“You have form, yes.”

“Well, too bad. Because I’ve known for weeks. I’ve thought about it and tested it and given all my feelings a good shake just to be sure this is the real thing. It is.”

Cat rolls her eyes. “And what about me?”

“What about you?” Kara demands.

“Does it matter how I feel? If I even love you back?”

It’s a gamble, but Kara figures by this point she’s already all-in. “I know you do. And now you can feel safe to tell me so. Whenever you’re ready, of course. Maybe you never will. That’s okay,” Kara says. “Because I’m going to keep loving you the whole time anyway. It won’t change a thing.”

Cat considers, taking Kara’s hand from her cheek and holding that hand in her own. The sheet falls away, and suddenly they’re almost as close as they were when Kara made her confession.

“Then I suppose,” Cat says, punctuating with a tender whisper of a kiss against Kara’s lips. “I can tell you that I love you, too.”

“You do?” Kara doesn’t mean to sound so doubtful or so damn giddy, but it just comes out that way. When Cat kisses her this time there’s nothing slow or gentle about it, just the searing contact of lips and tongues and murmured promises that don’t ever really need to become words at all.

“Yes,” Cat replies when the kiss ends at last, resting her forehead against Kara’s. “Good job on the proving it, though.”

“Right.” Kara grins, too happy to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Would you mind if I showed you all over again? Just how much I love you?”

Cat falls back against the pillows, her smile just a little lopsided as she waves a hand in vague encouragement. “Knock yourself out.”

Seizing her chance, Kara starts to pepper kisses over bare skin, charting every inch in any direction she cares to. Cat responds with those breathy little moans, and Kara knows she did the right thing by confessing tonight.

“I love you,” she mutters at the junction of Cat’s hip and thigh. Her answer comes in the form of Cat’s fingers tangling in her hair, but Kara feels it just the same.

#supercat #s1 nostalgia meme #cat grant #kara danvers #ficlet #Anonymous

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stxphxn-strange · 5 years ago

Text

what? a beautiful wedding? pt 2.

a/n: the college au wedding fic shenanigans continue! read pt 1 here

“On what?” Stephen asked. “Christine why do you seem nervous?”

“Let’s go in, you should have a drink and get comfortable. We can talk more inside,” Anthony suggested.

Christine led the way, the bright name and number on the back of her hoodie (which was actually Hope’s) as much of a guide as Christine herself.

“What’s the status of Rhodey and T’challa?” Stephen asked, taking Anthony’s hand.

“Their pining is infuriating me,” Anthony replied. “Lots of flirting on the drive over.”

Stephen hummed. “If they aren’t together by the end of the night, is it so wrong to help them out a little? Give them a push in the right direction? I’ll even push them into our bathroom if they need a quiet space to sort their shit out.”

“Noted,” Anthony said with a smirk. “I don’t know what they’re waiting for.”

“They’re both too independent and proud, sort of like another couple I know,” Christine quipped. Evidently she’d been listening to their conversation from where she walked in front of them.

Stephen smirked at his friend. “In due time, Christine.”

Anthony looked from Stephen to Christine, trying to read their suddenly guarded expressions. He had a suspicion that they were discussing a proposal, as all of their friends were on the edge of their seats waiting for the couple to get engaged. Anthony smiled, briefly reflecting on his own proposal plan that Pepper and Rhodey were helping him with. Speaking of which—

“How is Pepper?” He asked urgently.

“I think she went to take a nap,” Christine replied. “I gave her my room key and told her to lay down, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Another wave of guilt consumed Anthony. “This is—”

“I won’t have you drowning in self doubt on the day of my wedding,” Christine interrupted. “All you’re trying to do is care for your friend, that’s all any of us are trying to do. Stephen, please make sure your boyfriend understands that.”

Stephen nodded, wrapping his arms around Anthony immediately.

“You guys are so affectionate and cute,” Christine said. “I’m really glad you’re here. I’m happy everyone is here.”

“How do you feel?” Stephen asked.

“I’m still nervous, but it’s more of an excited kind of nervous,” Christine replied. “I love Hope so much, and I really can’t wait for all of this hype to be over so I can just say she’s my wife.”

“You know that the hype is going to last probably into tomorrow, right? Especially with our friends being the way that we are,” Stephen teased. He looked past Christine at the Odinson siblings, who were filling a confetti cannon… in the middle of the lobby.

Stephen quickly snapped a photo and sent it to the groupchat.

Hope wrote back immediately: “I didn’t just see a t-shirt or confetti cannon, did I? … Fuck it, if you need more confetti I know where to find it.”

The Odinsons dashed off towards the elevators, confetti cannon in tow. Anthony watched them leave, a small smile on his face at the chaos unfolding around him.

“Today is going to be good,” he said, to no one in particular.

“I really can’t wait,” Christine added. “I had some time to kill when you guys got here, but I should probably finish getting ready, y’know. Go make someone sick with your cuteness, and I’ll see you later okay?”

Before they could answer, Christine hopped up and hugged her friends before running off.

“What do you think is going to happen tonight?” Stephen asked, taking a sip of his seltzer.

“One of us is going to get too giddy and serenade his boyfriend during the reception,” Anthony replied, winking at Stephen.

“That was a one (1) time thing, baby. I don’t sing,” Stephen said.

Anthony held up his phone. “This video from my sister’s wedding shows otherwise, my love! And if you don’t sing, I might. I’m in that kind of mood.”

“Pep’s calling,” Stephen said. “That karaoke video stays between us, Anthony.”

Anthony picked up the phone. “Hey Miss Potts, I was actually just about to call and see how you are.”

“Christine noticed that I was hungover when I showed up, so she gave me her room key and told me to take a nap. Now I’m awake and I can’t stop thinking about her and how caring and sweet she is, and I just want to be with her,” Pepper lamented. “Have you seen her?”

“We were just with her, but Pepper wait a minute. Are you still in her room?” Stephen asked nervously. He began to chew on the inside of his lip as a mildly disastrous scenario unfolded in his mind.

“Yeah, where are you guys? I feel like I just shouldn’t be sitting in here,” Pepper said. “I have this letter that I wrote, I was thinking I’d just leave it somewhere so she’d at least know how I feel. Is that a bad idea?”

Stephen quickly pulled Anthony close to his side, kissing him softly before whispering: “I have a bad feeling about this. We have to stall Christine.”

Anthony nodded. “Create some kind of distraction.”

A loud noise, almost akin to a roll of thunder, filled the space before Stephen could finish sending a text. Even still, he seized the opportunity to ask the group about what it was, hoping that a game of detective would give Pepper more time to collect herself.

On FaceTime, Pepper jumped at the noise. “What should I do, guys? I want to be a good friend, I really do, but I want to be more than that all at the same time.”

“How do you think she’s going to respond?” Anthony asked. He had no idea how such a confession would go and was genuinely curious about Pepper’s expectations.

From somewhere behind Pepper, the door opened and Christine walked into her room.

“Hey, how do you feel?” She asked.

Pepper shrugged. “A little better, my headache went away.”

“Okay good. I just came to get my dress, are you ready to head to the garden?” Christine asked.

Pepper nodded, sadness drifting onto her face.

“Oh shit wait, are you on the phone?” Christine asked.

“It’s just us,” Stephen replied. “Hi again, sorry about the confetti cannon.”

“Carol and Val are helping Bruce wrangle the Odinsons, I think they’re watching a movie or something,” Christine said.

She left the room and Pepper turned her attention back to her friends. Another door squeaked as it closed, and Pepper seized her moment to say: “What am I going to do? It’s not like I can just say ‘Christine I know you’re my best friend but I love you as more than a friend’ you know? Not on the day she’s supposed to get married!”

“Wait, you do?” Christine was almost whispering, holding her wedding dress in a garment bag. “Is that true?”

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the-squinkle · 4 years ago

Text

A short piece about an elf in love with an orc

Original characters, please let me know what you think!

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With a brutish yell, Nokk’s war hammer slammed into the bandit’s temple. She was dead before she hit the ground, a horrific dent in the side of her head as her knees buckled under her own weight, and she fell without a sound.

Nokk panted, shouldering the hammer. All five bandits lay dead on the dirt paved road, scattered around the cart. The horse whinnied pitifully where it lay, it’s two front legs broken and mangled in the mud. Nokk’s greenish skin was flecked with pink gore and dark red blood. She licked her tusks that grew out from her bottom jaw and tasted salty copper. Her hearts pounded in asynchronous rhythm as she approached the wooden cart and held out her palm in a human show of peace.

Seven hostages were bound and captured, thrown haphazardly in the back of the carriage. A couple humans, one dwarf, and an orc girl not even eleven years old. All females.

They recoiled and shifted into each other as Nokk stepped closer, unsure if she was another marauder.

Nokk huffed, her hand lowered to her side. She ground her yellow teeth as she glareed the hostages down. “Fine. Stay in the cart. I don’t care.”

“My dearest, you were incredible!” Came the lilting, high voice of her traveling companion. From his hiding place behind a cluster of moss-covered trees sprung Sylvester, dressed in a fine purple cloak, a silk white shirt and red trousers. His outfit made Nokk’s eyes hurt, and his voice caused her to drag a hand down her face.

“You were so brave to defend these good people! And to protect me! You saved my life again, my love.” He swooned and rushed to her side. He squeezed her burly green arm. He tried to slide his arm around her own, and she pushed him away by his head. The elf barely came up to her elbow.

“Oh, you poor little dears.” He gasped when he turned to the cart, raising a hand to his mouth. His glossy nails and soft hands had never seen a day’s work in their lives. He leapt into the cart with ease, his silver-blond hair hanging loose over his shoulders, glistening in the sunlight that broke through the leaves above like a waterfall of the purest platinum.

“Your wrists, how tender they must be. I’m going to cut you loose now, but have no fear. This knife would never kiss your soft skin.” He winked at one of the human girls as he cut the rope about her wrists. The girl had been as stiff as a corpse just moments ago, but now her shoulders shook with nervous laughter as a smile tugged her lips.

Sylvester climbed out of the cart and offered his hand to the human girl, helping her down. She lighted on the dirt path and thanked him under her breath.

One by one, he helped the women from the cart, drawing a blush even from the dwarven maid. He carried the fierce orc girl on his back as he turned to Nokk, a giddy smile on his face.

Nokk snorted, her nostrils flaring as she began to lead the group back to the village. She could feel Sylvester’s obnoxious grin, even when she wasn’t looking at him.

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“Another round for the heroes who brought my daughter home!” Madam Bellanora cheered, lifting her tankard into the air with one hand, and the dwarven girl’s in the other.

The tavern cheered, lifting their drinks to the orc in dull, blood-splattered leather and the elf dressed like a peacock. Sylvester stood up in his chair and took a few long bows, flourishing his hand in the air. Nokk’s lip curled in disdain before she lifted her tankard to her lips. Damned things were too small, she could swallow the contents in three gulps.

Nokk’s chair creaked under her weight as she leaned back in her seat, watching Sylvester roam about the tavern to shake hands, drink and talk. He never stopped talking.

She wanted peace, wanted quiet. Wanted to get back on the road and leave this village far behind, but he’d insisted they stay the night. She downed her tankard and slammed it on the table with a low grunt.

“Knock-Knock?”

She snorted, then turned to her left with wide eyes. How could someone so loud and colourful sneak up on her.

The elf had his fist in the air, rapping at an invisible door. He grinned and took his seat beside her, dumping twelve little pouches on the table. “Look at this, my love! Look how grateful the people are to you, this is nearly twice what the Madam promised us!”

Nokk grumbled, eyeing her tankard for the last few drops.

“You look like an angel when you scowl, but my heart aches for you.” Sylvester pursed his lips into a pout, clasping his hands to his chest. “Oh, my darling… What is it? Perhaps you’re tense after your fight. Shall I massage your shoulders?”

“They are grateful to you. Not me. I killed the bandits. You claim the gold.” Nokk snarled, lowering her eyes to the elf.

“Not at all! This is all yours, sweetness. All of this is from the families of the girls. I would never suggest to be the hero.” He leaned forward to place his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands. A slow, dreamy smile crept up his lips. “You will always be my knight.”

Nokk ground her teeth, her bottom jaw jutting forward.

Sylvester tilted his head, like a curious dog. “Do you scoff at my love?”

The orc barked out a single note of thunderous laughter. The music and fanfare of the tavern faltered to look back to their table. A member of the city guard standing by the doorway reached for his sword, his eyes narrowed on their table. After a few moments, the music began again.

“Like silver bells in the lightest breeze…” Sylvester’s eyes fluttered shut, his words a whispered coo. his eyes falling shut. They snapped open as Nokk seized him by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.

“Do not make me laugh. I do not want your love. You share it freely.” Nokk growled. Her anger only boiled when he swooned under the flecks of spittle that splattered over his face. She let him go with a huff and wiped her hand on the tabletop.

“Your eyes are like diamonds when you sneer and snarl.” Sylvester placed a cool hand to his hot face. “Oh, my. Darling! My love, please. Don’t turn away.” He placed a hand on her arm as she moved to stand. He cleared his throat and pat his cheeks to calm down, then met her gaze with a more level stare. “Nokk, I enjoy beauty in all it’s forms. I cannot help but appreciate a sunset, a pretty woman’s smile, or the whistle of blades through the air.” His hand danced through the air in a dramatic flourish, smiling with all his white, perfect teeth. He turned back to Nokk and his smile faded. “But of all the most beautiful creations in this world, you are the most intoxicating. You are who I dream of when I close my eyes, who gives me butterflies in my belly. I will travel with you to the ends of the world, if you would have me. But if I am too much, I understand.”

He stood up from his seat. He lifted her heavy hand that dwarfed his own and kissed the back of her calloused, cracked knuckles. “We have traveled very far. If this is truly the end, I do not regret a minute of it.” He gave her index and middle fingers a gentle squeeze before pulling away completely, drawing his cloak tighter around himself.

Nokk wrenched her hand away from him as soon as he let go. She growled something low in her throat before standing up and moving to the bar.

Her arm struck the metal pauldron of the guard. An iron grip caught her wrist, and the orc whirled around with a snarl, jutting her tusks out.

“That’s assault on a member of the crownsguard. And that’s a threat.” He gestured to her expression and tightened his grip on her wrist. “Disturb the peace again, and you’ll be spending your last night here in the stockades.”

Nokk snorted and drew herself up to her full height. She had at least a foot and a half over the guard. Her eyes scanned the tavern before they landed on him again. “Try it. You are alone.”

The guard grasped the hilt of his sword and pulled. Nokk left her hammer in the inn, but her fists would be enough. She snarled, bending her knees and lifting her hands into the air.

“Jonah! I thought that was you.” A lilting voice called from her right. She faltered and glanced down to see the elf approach the pair with a smile, then clapped the guard on the shoulder. “Have you accepted my offer for a dance? I told you, people love a man in uniform, just so long as they’re agreeable. So come along! I know the blacksmith’s boy had an eye on you.” Sylvester winked.

“Not now. I’m right in the middle of something, you pompous twat.” The guard known as Jonah sputtered, batting the elf’s hand away. He paused, then glanced across the tavern. A muscular human male stood among some of the musicians, bobbing his head to the beat. His brown, tousled curls bounced with the movement.

“... Did he really?” Jonah asked in a whisper.

“He did!” Sylvester pulled the guard closer and spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. “He says he keeps trying to get you into the forge and make you some custom armor, but you never have the time!”

“The capitol sends us our armor.” Jonah mumbled uselessly. “I don’t need anything special.”

“I know! It’s common knowledge! So why does he keep pushing it?” Sylvester pulled back with a grin, then pushed Jonah toward the crowd by his shoulders. “Go, get out of here.”

Sylvester snickered to himself as the guard awkwardly staggered through the tavern, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched. The blacksmith’s son turned to him with mild surprise, then an eager smile.

Nokk snorted. Sylvester craned his head to meet her gaze, then tilted his head to the side. “Anything wrong? Oh! Right. Leaving you alone. I’m very sorry, darling-... I mean, Nokk. I’ll get right on that now.”

Nokk rolled her eyes. A thick hand tousled his perfectly combed hair. “Could have handled that myself.”

“Oh. Oh!” Sylvester stammered, unsteady on his feet when she pulled her hand away. He chuckled, combing through his hair with his fingers. He shifted his weight as he stood in place. “I know, of course you could have. You’re amazing.” Nervous fingers tapped together. “I just thought, perhaps, that you wanted a peaceful night. In a bed, rather than in the city dungeon.”

Nokk pushed her tankard into his hands. “Get us more drinks.”

Sylvester swooned, placing the back of his hand to his forehead. “A noble quest for the fairest maiden~.”

Nokk crossed her arms over her chest.

“You have no sense of humour.” Sylvester stuck out his tongue and turned for the bar.

Nokk chuckled under her breath, just as soon as she knew he was far away enough not to hear.

#writing #writing prompt #fantasy #fic #fiction #orc girl #elf ears #elf oc #orc #elf #dndcharacter #dnd #original story #writerscommunity #writer #fluff #excerpt from a book i'll never write

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starmakerdotcom · 5 years ago

Text

summary : eli gathers the courage to ask the question he’s been wanting to for a while.

characters : elliot martin , daniel seo , cho minjae , rest of solar / botanica ensemble mentioned

genre : PURE fluff omg it’s so sweet

warnings : like usual just some swearing but other than that not much ? it’s a pretty sweet piece so idk

words : 2.9k

notes : if u want you can listen to the song i mentioned in that one line here ! i was listening to it on repeat while writing this hfjhb

[ august 2020 , 9:34 am , botanica dorms ]

“why are you so giddy this early in the morning?” daniel, who still looked half asleep, glared at elliot over his coffee cup from his place at the table, watching elliot bounce around the kitchen at a way earlier time than was probably socially acceptable. especially in their dorm on a day with no schedules.

elliot shrugged, “i’m just in a good mood,” he replied, smiling like an absolute dork.

daniel took a sip of his coffee, “you’re seeing minjae today, aren’t you?”

a few beats passed before elliot quietly replied, “...maybe,” turning away from daniel to hide the fact that he was blushing like an idiot. it was no secret that elliot and minjae had been hanging out almost every day since the time he nearly accidentally killed the shorter boy by putting his phone number in a piece of his cake, which minjae then ate and choked on (elliot had apologized profusely countless times for that). it didn’t take an idiot to realize that there was clearly something more going on, or something more about to start soon enough.

“you finally gonna ask him out?” daniel asked, still drinking his coffee.

“you know what? i think i am,” elliot said excitedly, bouncing up and down as his way of hyping himself up, “i think i’m gonna do it, whew, this is a lot of pressure.”

daniel laughed, “you’ll be fine, there’s no way he’s gonna say no.”

“how do you know?”

“have you seen the way he looks at you? come on, that tiny boy is whipped,” daniel said matter-o-factly.

elliot laughed through his nose, still blushing, “if that’s what you think... but how should i, like, ask him?”

daniel tilted his head, “you’ve dated people before, weren’t you like, an absolute stud in high school or something?”

“well- yeah,” elliot snorted, “but that was high school, this is different.”

“you’ll be fiiiiine,” daniel said, reaching his arm out in a motion meant to imitate him patting elliot on the shoulder, even though they were on opposite sides of the room and daniel was just patting the air in front of him. elliot appreciated the reassurance either way.

“can we change this music by the way,” elliot crinkled his nose in the direction of daniel’s tiny speaker on the table hooked up to his phone, “please, it makes me feel old. put on tame impala or something.”

looking extremely offended, daniel turned his music up instead, “don’t you dare talk about the greatest band ever like that, the beatles would surpass whatever cringey rappers you’re listening to today in literally anything.”

“at least the singers i listen to are still alive,” elliot retorted, and daniel gasped.

“whatever, i need to get ready anyways!”

“already? go back to bed or something,” daniel said, “it’s too early.”

“but i have so much i gotta do,” elliot started pacing again, “i gotta shower, get ready, gotta find my money so i can buy us food-“

“i’ve never seen you this excited about anything,” daniel laughed with an amused expression, “ever.”

“fuck off,” elliot grumbled, trying and failing to hide his flushed cheeks, only making daniel laugh even more.

[ 9:21 pm , a street corner ]

“it’s cold,” minjae shivered, looking up at elliot walking next to him, “can i hold the pizza?”

elliot might’ve bought an entire pizza just so minjae and him could have a late night picnic on a particular grassy hill next to their dorm building. which, admittedly was probably a strange sight for the other people walking around at that time of night, but neither of the boys cared.

“oh- yeah, here,” elliot handed the pizza box to minjae, who immediately sighed in relief at the feeling of warmth against his cold hands, “do you want my sweater too?” elliot asked, already hurriedly taking it off.

“no it’s-“ minjae was cut off by the sudden feeling of warmth around his shoulders, and when he looked up again elliot had taken his sweater off and draped it around minjae’s shoulders (what minjae didn’t know was that elliot had specifically picked out that sweater because he knew minjae liked it and he was excitedly anticipating this exact moment). “...fine,” minjae finished quietly, the small gesture lining the inside of his stomach with butterflies.

“right here, this hill!” elliot excitedly pointed to the hill ahead, “that’s where i was thinking we could sit and eat.”

minjae nodded, “sounds good.”

“well- i mean if you’re cold we can go in i just thought it’d be fun to have a late night picnic-“

“i like the idea too!�� minjae quickly said.

elliot sighed in relief, he didn’t have a backup plan, and he really didn’t wanna eat an entire pizza with the boy he had a crush on in either of their dorms. “alright, come on!” he grabbed minjae’s hand and pulled him towards the hill. the shorter boy clutched the pizza box against his chest for dear life in an attempt not to drop it all over the grass as he let himself get dragged up the hill by elliot, jogging and laughing with him the whole time.

they finally reached a good spot on the hill to sit, and elliot collapsed on his back, followed closely behind by minjae, who carefully placed the pizza box on the ground before joining elliot in the grass sprawled on his back. for a second, minjae just stared up at the deep blue night sky, reaching out his hand and pointing out random stars to himself.

“what are you looking for up there?” elliot asked, staring at minjae with complete admiration in his eyes while minjae was focused on the sky.

“trying to find the big dipper,” minjae said quietly.

“can we even see it this time of year?”

“no clue, i just like looking at the stars sometimes.”

elliot, completely unaware of the huge smile on his face, whispered, “me too.”

“ALRIGHT,” minjae suddenly sat up, “let’s eat this damn pizza, i’m starving, i didn’t eat dinner because i knew we were getting this.” he ripped open the box and immediately dove for a slice, and elliot couldn’t help but laugh at how frantic the shorter boy was.

“do you wanna listen to music?” elliot suggested, “i just like listening to music sometimes, i dunno we don’t have to-“

“i like music,” minjae said confidently, “well, i mean, obviously,” he lost all his joking confidence in a second as he smiled sheepishly, “how about your music?”

elliot shrugged and took out his phone, “yeah, you can pick a playlist,” he said as he opened his phone and handed it to minjae to scroll through his playlists.

“this one looks interesting...” minjae mumbled as he clicked on a playlist called, ‘a wild fuckin party i went to once in highschool’ (the titles were all in english, so he couldn’t understand). elliot’s eyes widened when he realized that the first song that came on was deep throat by cupcakke. he seized his phone out of minjae’s hand and hit pause just before the song could finish its first recital of ‘HUMP ME, FUCK ME-‘

“how about something a little more... not explicit?” elliot suggested, laughing nervously. he gave his phone back to minjae, who instead picked out another playlist called, ‘songs to cry over my crush to’ (elliot thanked the heavens that minjae couldn’t understand that title). he breather a sigh of relief when 1980s horror film by wallows came on, a significantly less explicit song.

“i like this one,” minjae said after listening for a few seconds, “let’s keep it on.”

elliot shrugged, grabbing another piece of pizza. he’d almost forgotten what he was planning on telling minjae that night. oh well, he’d find a time. hopefully soon.

“damn it, i almost forgot,” minjae groaned, “curfew. i have to be back by ten.”

“we’re right here already, it’s fine,” elliot said, “what’s the harm in staying out a few minutes later?”

“i guess so,” minjae replied quietly, picking at the grass by his legs with his free hand, “i mean... who’s gonna find out, anyway?”

elliot nodded, staring off into the distance at some buildings down the street. unbeknownst to minjae, elliot was trying to plan out a way to confess to him right then, and then, if things went right, subsequently ask him out. he was never nervous like this before, even with being in countless short term relationships throughout middle school and high school, but in the grand scheme of things, those didn’t matter much. this felt way more serious than asking out the kinda cute girl that sat next to you in chemistry in the ninth grade because your friend dared you to (only for her to break up with you two weeks later. nice going, emily).

“hey... earth to yeollie,” elliot was shaken out of his daze by minjae waving his hand in front of his eyes. “i can’t eat this entire pizza by myself.”

elliot scoffed, “weak.”

“hey!” minjae pouted, “i’m- OH FUCK-“ he suddenly screamed, pointing frantically at elliot’s head.

“what- WHAT WRONG WHAT HAPPENED?”

“THERE’S A BIG GROSS BUG IN YOUR HAIR!” minjae slapped the top of elliot’s head repeatedly until elliot himself reached up and grabbed his hand.

“WHERE IS IT, I’LL GET IT.”

“I KILLED IT I THINK.”

“EUCGH IT’S PROBABLY ALL IN MY HAIR NOW!”

“STAY STILL!” minjae yelled as he reached again up to get the slightly squished bug out of elliot’s hair. “i said stay still dude,” he mumbled, scooting closer so he could see better in the dim light. because of the fact that minjae was basically legally blind even with his glasses on, their faces were inches away from each other while he struggled to fix elliot’s hair. the latter silently prayed that minjae couldn’t see how red his face had gotten in the dim light. but in return, elliot couldn’t see how hard minjae was blushing as well.

but just as elliot got the confidence to lean in and pucker his lips for a kiss, minjae turned around to flick the bug off his hand and scoot back to his original sitting position. “now that that’s done with...” minjae grabbed another piece of pizza and turned back around to face elliot while the latter felt a bit of his soul leave his body.

elliot picked up his phone off the ground, and when he saw that there were only a few minutes left until it turned 10pm (a.k.a. a couple minutes until minjae would start insisting going back inside because he was worried about getting in trouble for staying out too late), it felt like now or never, even though it obviously wasn’t.

minjae looked down at the time on elliot’s phone when he set it back down, “oh, it’s almost 10, we should really head back soon-“

fuck it.

“before we do that, can i just- tell you something?”

minjae quickly snapped his head up to look at elliot and nodded quickly, “yeah, of course.”

the brunette let out a shaky breath before he started, “so- remember that time i gave you my number?”

“you mean when you put it in my cake and i almost died because i choked on it?”

“i- okay, that’s a little dramatic.” he forced a laugh (which he immediately regretted).

“but, yeah, anyways?”

“right,” elliot continued, “so... fuck, how do i- fuck it- i like you, okay?”

a beat of silence passed with minjae looking at him, wide eyed, making elliot extremely aware of his own burning face in the process. “like... like, like?”

“yeah. like, like, like. a lot,” elliot didn’t think his face could get any redder.

“oh,” minjae said quietly. elliot thought he’d die of embarrassment, was that it? just oh? but then to elliot’s surprise, the redhead spoke again.

“well... me too.”

oh.

“oh,” elliot echoed minjae’s first response despite the fact that he was momentarily stressing over that single syllabled response seconds earlier. “okay, cool.” he internally cringed at his nonchalant response.

“so...” minjae began after a few more beats of extremely awkward silence, “what now?”

“well, what would you do if i asked you out, right here, right now?”

“i-“ minjae broke eye contact with elliot for just a second before looking back at him, “what?”

“okay,” elliot exhaled for the first time in what felt like an hour, “i meant- like, be my boyfriend, basically?”

“oh, wow,” minjae breathed out, and it didn’t take him that long to think about it before he replied, “okay.”

“okay, nice, cool,” elliot barely managed to hoarse out, “that went better than i expected.”

the redhead laughed awkwardly, “i thought it was kinda obvious that i liked you. i mean, everyone else knew. every time i said i was going to hang out with you jihoon would smile funny at me.”

“oh, i’m pretty sure daniel knew,” elliot said, remembering what the older had said to him that morning, although half asleep and fuelled only by a coffee that had more milk and sugar than actual coffee, elliot took it to heart.

“have you seen the way he looks at you? come on, that tiny boy is whipped.”

“alright... so what do we do now?” minjae asked, “are we supposed to like, kiss or something?”

“i mean...” elliot couldn’t help the huge dorky smile that spread across his bright red face, “if you want to.”

minjae reciprocated an equally huge and dorky smile as he scooted closer to elliot, even closer than when his blind ass was trying to get the bug out of elliot’s hair.

“ok so- how do i-“

“just like-“

“like this?”

“no, you’ve gotta-“

their noses bumped together while the two boys fumbled around, giggling awkwardly.

“whoops-“

“it’s okay, just-“

their lips finally met, but it’s more of an awkward peck on the lips than a proper kiss.

“have you ever kissed someone before?” elliot asked after whatever they had just tried to do.

minjae shook his head and answered, “nope,” honestly.

“okay, here, how about i just-“ elliot reached out his hands to gently cup minjae’s face, and pulled him in for a better, slightly more coordinated kiss. minjae’s stomach did a weird flip as be realized that the last thing he was expecting to happen that night was to be kissing his crush- or boyfriend now- on the side of a hill with a half eaten pizza box next to them.

as the two pulled away, minjae letting his eyes linger on elliot’s own for a few seconds, he wondered what the others would think when he got back, because he obviously wouldn’t be able to keep the secret that long. he’d probably get an excited, “aah! finally!” from elizabeth or yongmi, a significantly less enthusiastic, “i thought you two were already dating?” from either minjung, yeonwoo, or honghui, and probably a feigning disgust response of “keep your sappy shit out of this room,” from hyesoo or jihoon. he’d face that soon enough, anyway.

“ah, almost forgot,” minjae groaned, “curfew.”

“right,” as much as elliot wanted minjae to stay out there with him the entire night if they could, he knew the redhead wouldn’t want to risk getting in trouble due to breaking curfew, so instead, he said, “want me to walk you to your room?”

minjae nodded, pouting, “yes please.”

[ 10:04 pm, smk dorm building ]

“do you want the rest of the pizza?” minjae asked, holding out the box in elliot’s direction, “i had, like, four pieces, i think i’m good.”

elliot shrugged, “i won’t eat it, but tian probably will, or something.”

they’d reached the door to solar’s dorm, but both minjae and elliot were obviously trying to stall saying bye for the night. they’d been standing outside the door for a few minutes.

“i really should get inside...” minjae mumbled, the statement faltering towards the end like he was unsure.

elliot pouted, “oookay...”

“bye-bye,” minjae said quickly, standing on the tips of his toes to kiss elliot on the cheek. elliot immediately leaned down to press another soft kiss to minjae’s lips this time, and minjae’s stomach twisted in the same way it did the first time they’d kissed. he wondered if he’d get over that feeling of nervousness and excitement anytime soon.

“bye-bye,” elliot mimicked as minjae finally opened the door to his dorm at stepping inside, giving the taller boy one last smile before shutting the door behind him.

elliot made sure the door was closed, and then made his way down the hallway to his own room, but not before pumping his fist in the air and cheering out an almost inaudible “fuck yeah!”. completely unaware of minjae on the other side of the wall, leaning and then sinking down the wall into a sitting position, with a sigh of content and a huge grin on his bright pink face.

once he’d made it to his dorm, elliot opened the door rather loudly with a, “YO!” nearly scaring daniel to death, who was on the couch watching tv.

once daniel realized it was elliot and not someone breaking in, he asked, “so... how did it go?” but judging by the expression on elliot’s face, daniel was pretty sure he had his answer already. “he said yes?”

elliot nodded excitedly while taking off his shoes and placing the leftover pizza on the kitchen counter, and then immediately ran over to daniel’s spot on the couch and gave him a rather rough high-five.

“hell yeah bro!”

“let’s go!”

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citrinekay · 5 years ago

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Hiiii I dunno if you're still doing prompts but i've been thinking about a drabble where Bill and Holden are at home and they're both a little tipsy and Holden talks Bill into slow dancing with him, I just need some cute domestic fluff tbh, thanksss

HI Ash! Sorry for the delay in answering this 😫 life has been so busy and stressful these past couple weeks, but I finally got a chance to sit down and write this little thing that’s been bouncing around in my head ever since you sent this message. Hopefully you are still yearning for the domestic fluff, because this is fluffy to the max! Enjoy 💕

When Holden wakes on Saturday morning, the mellow, morning sunlight creeping across the unoccupied side of his bed illuminates the vacancy in a way that makes his chest tighten. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine the dust motes sailing, hitting bare skin, the radiating warmth of body heat, hands winding around his waist to pull him closer. But he’s never liked feeling needy or dependent on anyone - not until recently.

He tries to set aside the lonely patter of his thoughts, but when he goes into the kitchen to put some breakfast together, his gaze settles nervously on the telephone.

Last weekend, it was Bill’s turn having Brian. The week before that, Holden was over at Bill’s house, and they were making out on the couch. It seems like a small eternity ago, almost unbearable. He wants to call and invite himself over, but Bill has never been the doting type. He doesn’t appreciate clingy behavior or other people invading his personal space. This thing between them is still too new for that kind of closeness.

Holden dispels the thought of calling, and turns his attention to making breakfast. Afterward, he busies himself by checking the contents of the refrigerator and deciding he needs to stop at the grocery store.

On the weekend, the store is fairly busy, and he takes his time shuffling down the crowded aisles and ticking items off his list once they hit the cart. He trolls the familiar shelves by rote, allowing his mind to wander and predict the rest of the day. Maybe he’ll go for a run later or settle in with a book. More than likely, he’ll end up pouring over the case files he brought home with him. Relaxing has never come easy to him, just like the vulnerability of missing someone.

When Holden gets back to his apartment, juggling two paper sacks of groceries and his keys, the shrill ring of his telephone reaches past the front door. Muttering a curse, he sets down one sack in order to unlock the door, and quickly drags the groceries inside. The telephone continues ringing as he knocks the door shut, stumbles past the grocery sacks into the kitchen, and swipes for the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Bill’s voice reaches from the other end of the line, at ease and fond, shattering Holden’s dour mood in seconds.

“Bill, hi.” Holden says, a smile pushing unbidden at his cheeks.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, I was just coming back from the store. It’s okay. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking about you.”

Holden turns to lean his hips against the kitchen counter, and bites back a growing grin. “Really? That’s funny.”

“Why?”

“Because, I was thinking about you.” Holden says, clutching the phone tighter as nervous butterflies rouse in his belly.

“Were you, now?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, it seems like we’re on the same page then.” Bill says, his tone modest yet holding a note of anticipation.

“About what?”

“You coming over tonight.”

The butterflies explode, not painfully but joyously. Holden purses his lips, but he can’t help the excited grin that stretches across his mouth.

“That sounds great.” He says, attempting not to betray his over-eagerness.

“Yeah?” Bill asks, the relief in his voice matching the warmth in Holden’s chest. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel. I know last week in New Hampshire was hard on you. I figured you’d want to rest-”

“No.” Holden says, quickly. “Not at all. I want to come over.”

“Great. We don’t have to do anything crazy.” Bill says, “Order some take-out, watch a movie …”

“Yeah, that all sounds good. When do you want me to come over?”

“I’ve got some chores around the house to finish up. How does five o’clock sound?”

“Good. Perfect.”

“Okay. See you then.”

After they hang up, Holden stands in the middle of the kitchen with a bewildered smile lingering on his face. His fears about coming off as too needy sink below the surface, leaving behind the warm hum of anticipation in his belly. The realization that Bill wants this - them - just as much as he does rises up slowly right next to the bubbling excitement, but Holden doesn’t try to dwell on the particulars; he has to seize this moment while it lasts.

Holden pulls his car into the driveway of Bill’s house at 4:45. He prefers to be early, but today’s punctuality exists more out of uncurbed enthusiasm rather than timely diligence. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from getting himself ready early and leaving his apartment ahead of schedule. He’s sure Bill won’t mind.

Getting out of the car, he jogs up the front steps, and raps his knuckles on the front door. He doesn’t have to wait long before he hears Bill’s footfalls approach and the latch click open.

Holden glances up from his shoes to see Bill holding the door open. He has a kitchen towel over his shoulder, and his cheeks are faintly flushed. Immediately, the mouth-watering scents of cooking dinner wafts from behind his shoulders.

“Hi.” Bill says, his mouth fending off a smug smile.

“Hi…” Holden says, slowly, a frown tugging at his brow.

“Come on in.”

Bill stands aside as Holden creeps across the threshold, pinning him with a curious gaze.

“What smells so good?” Holden asks as Bill pulls the door shut behind him.

Bill’s hand clasps his hip as he leans in to plant a warm kiss on Holden’s cheek. “Dinner.”

“Dinner?” Holden echoes, his brows rising. “You said we were going casual.”

“I know. I wanted to surprise you.”

“I’m practically in pajamas.” Holden protests, haplessly. “I would have dressed up if you told me you were making me dinner and-”

“Hey,” Bill interrupts, his eyes twinkling. “Hush, will you? I’m not worried about what you’re wearing.”

Holden purses his lips, and gently leans into Bill’s chest. Peeking up past his eyelashes and the flush climbing his cheeks, he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. I should be thanking you.”

“You can thank me later.” Bill whispers, planting a fleeting kiss on Holden’s mouth before he turns to go back into the kitchen.

Holden trails behind him, his disbelief growing as he enters the kitchen to see the table set with the nice china dishware and a glass vase at the center that holds a large bouquet of purple and white flowers.

“Wow.” Holden says, pausing in the doorway to gather himself. “Bill, this is …”

“A surprise?” Bill asks as he leans down to open the oven.

“Yes. Very much so.”

Bill pulls the pot out of the oven, and sets it down on the top of the stove. When the lid comes off, the aromatic scent of seasoned pork roast makes Holden’s mouth water.

“Then I succeeded.” Bill says, casting him a smile.

Holden shuffles closer to the table, trying to curb his excitement as he bends over to smell the flowers.

“Are these for me?”

“Yep.” Bill says, sounding casual as he carves into the roast.

“Well, well. I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

“I’m not. But I figured you would appreciate it.”

“Why’s that? I don’t consider myself a romantic either.”

Bill casts him a dubious glance over his shoulder.

“What? I’m not.” Holden protests.

Bill smirks, and turns his attention back to plating the food.

Holden sighs, and rubs one of the flower petals between his thumb and forefinger. “Well, I have to admit, they are nice. I hope you didn’t spend too much on them.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude to ask how much a gift costs?”

“Yes. She also taught me not to kiss boys so …. We’re in new territory, aren’t we?”

Setting aside his fork and knife, Bill turns to catch Holden by the wrist and reel him in. Both arms wind around his waist, pulling him into a firm embrace. A shiver runs through him, leaving his knees weak and his hands clutching at the front of Bill’s shirt. The thrill of warmth ends in his belly when Bill’s eyes swallow him, then his mouth comes down to turn Holden’s world inside out and upside down. Dizzy, giddy satisfaction crushes through his veins at the first sweet dash of Bill’s mouth against his own, increasing to a dazed hum when the strokes deepen and Bill’s tongue slips against his palate.

Holden clings to Bill’s chest until the kiss ends with a slick disconnect of lips and panting breath. He opens his eyes slowly, shuddering.

Bill gazes down at him, a faint smirk resting on the damp corner of his mouth. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all day.” He murmurs.

Holden flushes hotly, and chokes on a reply.

Bill chuckles. “I guess your mom didn’t tell you how great kissing boys would be, huh?”

“Not in the slightest.” Holden whispers, offering a strangled laugh.

“Come on.” Bill says, nudging him toward the table. “Sit down. Dinner’s ready.”

Holden sinks to his chair, grateful for the support now that his legs have been turned to jelly. Part of him had meant to come here tonight feeling in control of emotions and sexually powerful. He’d meant to accept Bill’s invitation, but not act too eager. Ten minutes into the evening and he’s ready to faint like a virgin, longing for another kiss, longing for more - Bill’s hands all over his body, making him forget everything his mother ever taught him.

After Bill sets the dinner plates in front of them and pours them each a glass of wine, he sits down across from Holden with a pleased sigh.

“Go ahead.” He urges as Holden toys with his fork.

“This looks really good.” Holden says, leaning forward to apply his fork and knife to the pork.

Bill watches eagerly as he takes a bite and the tender, juicy flavor fills his mouth.

“Mm, wow. It tastes really good, too.” Holden says around the bite.

“Good.” Bill says, taking up his own fork. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

They both fall quiet for a few moments as they eat, the quiet clink of silverware on china filtering above the rush in Holden’s ears. He peeks past the bouquet of flowers, feeling his chest swelling and opening the same as the soft petals. It’s difficult to hold onto his stubborn sense of self-sustainability when Bill is treating him this way, making him dinner, giving him flowers, kissing him intimately in a way he knows he’ll never be kissed by anyone else again; but a part of him still clings to his jaded cynicism, the scar tissue on his heart that warns him nothing good lasts forever.

“Bill …” Holden whispers.

“Yeah?” Bill mutters, glancing up from his plate with a warm, expectant gaze.

“Thank you. This is amazing. It feels too good to be true, actually.”

Bill’s mouth tilts with a soft smile. “I know. But it is.”

“In ten years …” Holden says, drawing in a shaky breath. “Are you going to cook me dinner like this?”

Bill’s eyes soften, and his chest rises with a staggered breath. Setting his fork and knife down, he rubs a hand over his mouth.

“You, um … You think we’re going to be together like this in ten years?”

“Well, I … I think so.” Holden says, hurriedly. “I mean, I hope so.”

“Yeah.” Bill says, his voice quietly choked. “Me, too.”

Holden lowers his head, pressing his eyes shut against the sudden sting of tears. Bill’s hand creeps across the table to clutch over his knuckles, grounding him into this moment that feels too perfectly constructed for his reality.

“You okay?” Bill asks, gently.

Holden nods, swiping briskly at his eyes. “Yes, fine. Good, actually.”

“Okay, good. That’s a relief. I didn’t think I was that rusty in the kitchen.”

Holden chokes on a laugh, and shakes his head. “No, it’s not the food. The food is amazing. You’re amazing, I just-”

He stops as their eyes meet across the table, and he realizes he’s shown too much - more than he ever has with anyone else. In just a few minutes, his walls have crumbled to the ground.

He clears his throat of the forming knot, and manages a calm expression.

“It’s just that good things normally don’t last long for me.” He says, “Everything has always felt temporary.”

Bill’s knits with concern and determination. He gives Holden’s hand another squeeze.

“Well,” He says, “It isn’t this time.”

After the dishes are cleared away and the bottle of wine is diminished to a few lingering sips, Bill and Holden relax on the couch with the television playing at low volume and a Sinatra record spinning on the turntable.

Holden isn’t paying much attention to the sports cast debating the upcoming football draft as he cuddles underneath Bill’s arm, his cheek pressed to Bill’s chest. Bill’s fingertips wander up and down the back of his arm, rousing warm tingles down his spine while the other hand guides a cigarette to and from his lips.

Tilting his head back, Holden studies Bill’s face in the low light, the familiar edges of his jawline, his bladed cheekbones, his eyes as moody as incoming rain. He knows these planes and slopes well, has memorized each facet through sleepless, lovelorn midnights. He thought he knew everything there was to know about Bill, but tonight surprised him - and his morning concerns that Bill might find him too needy or even annoying suddenly seem ridiculous.

The record hums static for a moment before the next song starts, the sweet, languid opening notes of “The Way You Look Tonight.”

Hesitation cast aside, Holden sits bolt upright from Bill’s chest, and clutches his arm.

“I love this song.”

Bill’s attention breaks from the television to pin Holden with a bemused smile. “Yeah. It’s a good one.”

“It’s one of my mom’s favorite songs.” Holden says, climbing to his feet. “We used to slow dance to it in the kitchen.”

“There you go with your mom again.”

“She has good music taste. Obviously.” Holden says, tugging on Bill’s hand. “Come on.”

“Come where?”

“Come on. Dance with me.” Holden says, offering his most imploringly coy gaze.

“Oh, no.” Bill says, shaking his head. “I think I’ve fulfilled enough romantic duties for tonight.”

“Duties? You seemed pretty pleased with yourself.”

“Yeah, well. You said you weren’t a romantic either.”

“Maybe I lied a little.” Holden says, giving Bill’s hand another firm tug. “Please?”

Bill gives a labored sigh, but quickly sets aside his cigarette and climbs to his feet.

“Here.” Holden says, guiding Bill’s left hand to his hip and catching the right hand in his own grasp. “I’ll lead.”

“Holden, I know how to dance.” Bill says, flipping their hands over so that his is on top.

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s just been awhile.”

Holden purses his mouth shut as Bill’s palm flattens against his lower back, drawing him so close that their mouths nearly collide. A chuckle rises up in his belly, the last of his misgivings melting away beneath the duress of Bill’s embrace and half a bottle of a wine simmering in his veins. It feels too good to resist now that he’s wrapped up in Bill’s arms, their bodies swaying against one another while Sinatra croons a saccharine, lovesick melody.

They’re quiet through the first verse as they rock back and forth, turning in a slow circle in the middle of the living room carpet. Holden wraps his arm tighter around Bill’s shoulders, and lowers his head to the warm cradle of Bill’s neck.

“I have a confession.” He whispers as the song swells into the chorus.

“Hmm?”

“I thought about calling you this morning before you called me.” Holden whispers, lifting his head from Bill’s neck to cast him a sheepish smile. “But I didn’t want to seem clingy.”

“Clingy?” Bill echoes. “Why would you seem clingy?”

“Well, we see each other every day at work, and we were just together all weekend the other week. I just thought-”

“That I didn’t miss you?”

Holden pauses, his throat knotting again. “Well, um … yes.”

“I missed you a lot when you were in New Hampshire.” Bill says, leaning in to kiss Holden’s lower lip softly. “I do every time we have to go out of town for work.”

Holden leans into the kiss, but Bill’s mouth only strokes softly for a few moments before he pulls back, his forehead nudging against Holden’s.

“Can I be completely honest with you right now?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good.” Bill says, his hand squeezing against Holden’s lower back. “Because I don’t want to waste anymore time. I’ve wasted years, you know. Years I can’t get back.”

Holden frowns, feeling his chest begin to quiver. “Years?”

“Yes. Years without this - without you.” Bill says, glancing away with a coarse scoff as the words choke in his throat. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Holden murmurs, leaning closer.

They’ve stopped dancing, but their hands are still clasped in mid-air. Holden doesn’t feel like letting go of Bill’s hand.

“I don’t know.” Bill says, “I guess I thought this would be easier if I persuaded you with dinner and flowers and wine.”

“Persuaded me?” Holden echoes.

“Yeah.” Bill says, shifting a misty gaze back to Holden. He draws in a slow breath. “But you’re going to make me say out loud, aren’t you?”

Holden swallows hard. There’s a buzzing in his ears that doesn’t quite feel like panic. His belly is surging, flipping. They’re rushing towards a precipice that they can’t turn back from. He’s carving out pieces of himself and handing them over. Willingly. They both are.

“Look,” Bill says, lowering his head again, “I know it’s hard for both of us to say how we feel, but I can’t keep pretending that this is some kind of phase or fling or- … It means more than that to me, and you were talking about ten years from now so I know you do too.”

Holden adjusts his grasp on Bill’s hand. Both of them are sweaty with nerves, but he doesn’t want to let go.

Bill lifts his head. His eyes are clear, resolute. There’s a pause, not the quiet before a destructive storm but the anticipation before a deliverance of rain.

“I love you.” Bill says, quietly.

Holden draws in a hitched breath, and tears instantly sting his eyes. Overwhelmed, he buries his face in Bill’s neck, and wraps both arms around his shoulders. Sinatra’s serenade swells below the surge of his heartbeat, the broken, lonely pieces of himself coming back together again.

Bill holds him close until he can breathe again, until he can look up and look into Bill’s eyes without crumbling entirely.

“I love you, too.” Holden chokes out, a tear streaking down his cheek in the same moment that he begins to laugh for joy.

“You do?” Bill asks, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes.” Holden nods, pressing a series of affirming kisses to Bill’s mouth, mumbling the response again and again into the narrow space between their mouths.

Bill’s hand strokes away the last of his tears before it takes up Holden’s hand into the dancing position again. As they begin to sway once more, Holden nestles his cheek against Bill’s shoulder. His mind goes quiet, not for the first time, but for the first time in a very long time, in so long that he’d almost forgotten what this kind of contentment feels like. Relief rushes through him, a nebulous epiphany of bliss. In this moment, he can see every second of the future, the two of them together just like this. Nothing lasts forever, but some things are infinite.

#bill x holden #my writing #ashtheironbat

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