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ssinnerplazahotel · 3 months ago

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*Chapter Eight*

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WC: 8k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Elvis had tried to live up to his promise of making things right. You wouldn’t say he was successful, and you wouldn’t say it was any fault of his own. You weren’t sure if things could be made right again. You tried to put the past in the past. You tried not to think about the way he’d grabbed you and pinned you to his bed. You tried to forget about how frightened you were then. You didn’t want to remember.

It wasn’t the first time you were afraid of him. You told yourself that if you could get over it before, you could get over it again.

You tried. You really did. A part of your mind that had been made up since your conversation with Andrea—the other part lingered between made up and naïve by choice. You wanted to be naïve, it didn’t hurt as much to believe that he loved you.

“I see you watching him,” Cynthia spoke suddenly as you stood in the kitchen awaiting her instruction. Her eyes stayed focused on the dishes she was hand washing, only glancing up to be sure you heard her.

“Ma’am?” You asked in shock, trying to weed through the nonsense clouding your mind for a reasonable response. It was hard when you could feel Elvis’ eyes burning a hole in your back.

“Don’t put on an act for me.” She laughed. “He’s talked to me about you.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” You chose your words carefully.

“He asked me about you when you first started working around the house.” She started to hand you dishes to dry and you quickly found the drying cloth. “He started wanting his tray earlier in the night because he would be busy later. Busy doin what I had no idea. But I caught on eventually when I saw the way he looked at you.”

“How did he look at me?” You asked, keeping your expression neutral.

“He tried not to, he mostly didn’t.” The two of you were getting a rhythm of washing and drying going by then. “But when he did his eyes just stuck to you. He’d play it off for a minute or two then he'd go chasing after you. I only said anything when I noticed Dawn was getting suspicious. I knew if she found out it wouldn’t do either of you any good. When I asked him if there was anything going on, he told me the truth.”

You had no reason to doubt that Cynthia was telling the truth, but you still hesitated to respond to her.

“Who do you think’s been keeping Dawn from barging upstairs and finding the two of you?” She asked. “If I didn’t steer her away she would’ve caught you together by now.”

“Dawn knows more that she lets on,” You said quietly. “Why are you only telling me this now?”

“I’ve been trying to find time to talk, you’re so stuck to Dawn during the day,” Cynthia said. “I saw the look you got on your face when you came downstairs. I don’t know what happened but you’re both wearing it on your sleeves. Staring at each other like a couple in a fight.”

“What else did he say about me?” You asked indulgently.

“He said enough to convince me.”

You started to complain about the vagueness of her comment but Dawn appeared in the kitchen before you could say anything.

“You got an earlier start than I expected,” She said, poking fun at your out of whack sleep schedule.

“I wasn’t tired enough to sleep in,” You lied, having been up late with Elvis the night before.

You did your best to take Cynthia’s advice for the rest of the day. You were still shocked to find out about her knowledge of you and Elvis’ relationship. Whatever that relationship was supposed to be…

You almost didn’t believe her but she knew too much to be lying.

You went through the day completely ignoring him. He caught on halfway through and began to ignore you too. It didn’t affect you much—you were used to being ignored and overlooked by him.

“You in here, baby?”

“Can’t you knock sometimes?”

Elvis laughed as he let the door of your room swing shut behind him. You didn’t turn away from where you stood in the mirror wrapping your hair for the night.

“What?” You asked when he leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side.

“I came to talk to you about something, but suddenly I don’t have the words,” He said. “Who gave you the right to be so pretty?”

“Stop it,” You said, adjusting your scarf on your head. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“I think it's coming back to me.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist. You squirmed against him as he kissed your neck.

“Elvis,” You complained, he held your body firmly against his. “Tell me what it is.”

“You tell me what it is.”

“What?”

“Were you ignoring me today?” His lips brushed against your skin as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine.

“…No.”

“Alright.” He kissed your shoulder and met your eyes in your reflection. You relaxed and wrapped your own arms around his as he hugged your torso. “I came to tell you that we’re gonna send you, Dawn, and Cinee back to Memphis while we finish up here. We’re gonna be traveling for reshoots and press for another two weeks but we’ll be back after that.”

“Okay,” You said. “When are we leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow probably,” He responded. “You’re not upset?”

“No.” You had a feeling that he’d hoped you would be. “It’s only two weeks.”

He hummed in response, his eyes leaving yours.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ll be there, right?” He asked, meeting your eyes again. “When I get back?”

“At Graceland?”

“Yeah, at Graceland.”

You realized then why he had looked worried so suddenly. He was afraid you’d leave while you were separated. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind, now you couldn’t help but recognize the opportunity.

Elvis loved to plant thoughts in your mind. He’d carefully craft your every thought if he could, and you weren’t sure if you’d stop him. You were afraid you wouldn’t have the power to fight it if he tried. He’d plant his seed and you’d let him rain all over you, unsure of what would prosper that day or the next.

‘How do you want me?’ He’d expect you to ask. ‘That’s how I’ll be.’

If you let him plant his seeds of thought inside your brain you wouldn’t have to think about anything. You wouldn’t have to be curious, you wouldn’t have to put anything into action. You could live peacefully in your delusion.

You thought, maybe, that was the easiest route to take. You were already losing your will, why not let him hold all the cards? Why not let him take advantage of your love? He already knew that as long as your love for him lived he’d have his way with you.

As far as you could tell your love would always live, so it wouldn’t matter if you shut your mind down. It wouldn’t matter if he told you what to do.

You wanted him to.

You wanted him to silence your curiosity and cage up your free will—you were too mentally exhausted to have it any other way.

You wouldn’t blame him. You would blame yourself. You would blame your love.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked as the silence grew suspicious. You smiled reassuringly for him, hoping that it looked genuine. Your mind continued to race despite how desperately you tried to quiet your thoughts.

Silence my curiosity.

“I’m just making sure.” He returned your smile. “I don’t want my baby birdie gettin any ideas about flyin away.”

Cage up my free will.

“I wouldn’t.” You turned around in his arms to face him. “I’ll be there.”

How do you want me?

“I believe you.” He ducked his head to kiss you, making you tilt your head to meet his lips.

That’s how I’ll be.

You still felt so swept away by his touch, so outside of yourself. It worsened the emotional turmoil you felt inside, yet it spurred you on and made you crave him.

“Tell me you love me,” He demanded softly.

“You know I do.” You were like a fiend and he was your vice. The sober days hurt, but those high nights almost made you forget the pain. Almost.

“I want to hear you say it,” He insisted between kisses.

“I love you,” You said. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”

He deepened the kiss, pushing you up onto the edge of the sink.

“I’m gonna get wet,” You complained as the hem of your nightie went into the damp sink.

“That’s the idea,” Elvis uttered cleverly as his hands traveled up your thighs and under the nightie.

You were convinced you were a lunatic—or at the very least mentally unwell. You had to be, it was the only plausible explanation. There you were plotting your escape, contemplating laying down your life, and pawing at him wantonly all within the span of a few minutes—telling him you loved him and letting him take you to bed.

“You didn’t lock it.” Your breath hitched as he teased you through your underwear. “T-The door.”

Even in your aroused state you knew you hadn’t heard him lock the door when he walked in. The click of the lock being engaged was a sound that you were used to listening for.

“You’re right,” He said, his warm breath mingling with yours. He made no move to go and lock the door, instead he hooked his fingers under the band of your panties and pulled them down your legs.

“Elvis,” You said in alarm. “Y-You can’t~”

You were cut off abruptly when he suddenly pushed his middle finger deep inside of you. You gripped his shoulder for dear life.

“I can't what?” Elvis asked, circling your clit with his thumb. “I can’t fuck you with the door unlocked?”

You shuddered, leaning back against the mirror behind you. You tried to respond but your words were caught in your throat.

“Can you see the door?” He asked, wrapping his free arm around you and sitting you up. You cried out as his finger entered you from a different angle. “Can you see the door, baby?”

“Yes.” You looked over his shoulder at the door, the lock was unturned.

“You keep your eyes on the door.”

“Please, lock it.”

“No.” He smiled, amused by your unease. “Be a good girl and keep watch, will you?”

Your heart hammered wildly against your chest as he sunk down between your thighs, pushing the hem of your nightie up out of the way. You practically flinched when he touched you again. You swore and gripped the edge of the sink, tears of pleasure already threatening to well in your eyes.

You watched the door with a feeling of anxiety that mingled too well with the pleasure you felt as his tongue sent you to heaven. You watched and waited for the knob of the door to turn, for someone—Dawn, or Cynthia, one of the guys needing you to clean up a mess they made—to walk in and find Elvis’ head buried between your legs.

As you anticipated your release you wondered what you’d do if someone walked in. Would you push him away? Or would you pull him in? Too far gone and so close to reaching your high that you could almost taste it? The thought made your back arch as Elvis latched onto your clit and he stroked you within an inch of your life.

The dam broke and suddenly you couldn’t see the door, or anything for that matter. Your eyes rolled and your thighs tried desperately to shut around his head as your orgasm completely wracked your body.

You cried and he continued his assault even as you trembled against him. You felt like you were floating when he finally pulled away, standing between your legs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your eyes started to focus again as he unbuckled his pants. Your mind was everywhere but the door as he freed his cock and ran it through your remaining arousal. You expected him to push inside but he didn’t. Instead, he used your slick to coat his aching erection before getting himself off. His movements were erratic and quick, his eyes never leaving your face.

He swore tensely when you gripped his hair in one hand and wrapped your legs more tightly around him. He grunted as he came, pumping himself through every pulse of his release. You stayed like that for a while, holding him while he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“Elvis,” You forced yourself to say, your voice shallow and breathless. “Lock it…please.”

“Yeah,” He responded, kissing your neck before pulling away. He took the towel you had used to dry your face earlier and wiped himself clean. He handed it to you and left the bathroom.

You clambered down from the sink, turning and leaning against it. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment before looking away, avoiding your reflection. You didn’t recognize yourself. You didn’t know who you were.

You’re my girl, that’s who you are.

“You okay?” Elvis asked, reappearing behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and tried to meet your eyes in the mirror.

“I need a second,” You said, reaching out and turning the faucet on without looking up at him.

“Don’t take too long,” He said, kissing your shoulder before leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You stood on shaky legs as you cleaned yourself up. You took a few minutes to try and collect your thoughts but it turned out to be more difficult than you expected. You weren’t sure what you were thinking.

On one hand, you contemplated the possibility of leaving Graceland when you returned to Memphis—you tried to make sense of the outrageous idea. Yet somehow you wanted nothing more than to join Elvis in your bed and talk the night away, like two teenagers with their itches freshly scratched.

You left the bathroom with a hint of apprehension behind your steps. Elvis stood at your dresser absentmindedly smelling the assortment of perfumes that you’d accumulated.

There was one you’d gotten when you first came to Memphis. Two Barb and Pat had insisted you get from a booth downtown during one of your many excursions. And another that Andrea had gifted you before she left. To remind you of her.

She’d be ashamed of you if she saw you now.

“It’s too much all at once, isn’t it?” You asked, getting his attention. “Cabochard.”

He shrugged, putting the top back on the bottle. “I like it. It’s unique.”

You nodded indifferently. “I have to do my homework.”

“I’ll sit with you until you finish.”

“Won’t you bore to death?”

You caught a whiff of your perfume when you each got onto your bed—floral and sandalwood. You smiled at the mental image of him spraying himself with it.

“I like watching you work,” He said as you grabbed your textbook from the nightstand and opened it. “You’re sexy when you’re focused.”

You laughed. “As long as you’re entertained.”

He sat there patiently for a change as you did your homework. You were waiting for a bored sigh or an annoyed breath, but instead he sat there silently patting his foot to the song stuck in his head. You almost found it harder to concentrate while waiting for him to break.

He didn’t.

By the time you finished he had laid his head on your shoulder and started to doze. You sighed in relief as you shut your textbook and dated your packet for it to get sent off.

A smile graced your lips for a moment as you brought your hand up and drummed your fingers under Elvis’ chin. You quietly kissed your lips at him until he stirred and you motioned for him to lay against your pillows.

“E, you’re asleep,” You said when he hesitated.

“Where are you goin?”

“Nowhere. I’m right here.”

You put your textbook back on the bedside table and adjusted yourself so that you laid next to him on your back. He wrapped his arm around your torso and held onto you even in his sleep, never once letting go.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You tried to tell him but he never seemed reassured by your words.

He’d wake you up in the morning before he left to give you a full rundown of his day. Making sure to tell you if he thought the two of you could spend time together that night. You didn’t understand why he did it. But you figured it was his way of showing that he was making an effort to spend time with you.

“I’ll come to you,” He’d say, kissing your forehead before standing to leave. “Go back to sleep.”

You’d wave as he left, with no hope of returning to sleep. You’d stare at the ceiling until the next two hours rolled by and you were forced to face the day.

It was your last night in Hawaii and just in time before you left you got a letter from Andrea. The mailing process had gotten a bit backed up but she did write you back, which made you happy.

You smiled as you laid back in your bed reading the letter.

Hi, love, It said. I’ve been dying to hear from you! I feel like so much time has gone by but really it hasn’t. I’m glad Dawn and Mama are doing okay but that’s not what I want to know. How are you? Are you taking care of yourself? More importantly, have you found yourself a real man? Please tell me you got back in touch with Kai. I didn’t forget about him, there’s no way I could. I told you once and I’ll tell you again, you don’t deserve to be kept a secret—choose yourself! I hope you realize that soon if you haven’t by the time you get this. My hand would fall off if I tried to write some sense into you so I’m going to leave it at that. You have to come by the house when you’re back in Memphis. Charles says he’d love to meet you. I told him you’re like the little sister I never had, so technically you’re like the sister-in-law he never had. I wish I had something interesting to tell you but my life is pretty much on the straight and narrow again—

“What’re you reading?”

You jumped at the sound of Elvis’ voice and clutched the paper to your chest. He laughed as he locked the door. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Oh, I just did,” He said, stalking over to you. “Somebody sent you a letter?”

“No. I-I mean, yes. It’s from Andrea.”

“Why’re you hiding it like that?” He asked with an amused expression.

“What do you mean?” You sat up and took the letter from your chest before folding it in your lap.

He narrowed his eyes at you, waiting less than a second before reaching out and snatching the letter before you.

“No, Elvis!” You exclaimed, trying not to shout as you stood up on your knees reaching for the letter. “It’s private.”

“What could she be saying?” He laughed, unfolding it and skimming the words.

You sat back on your heels as his expression changed. You fidgeted anxiously, waiting for his reaction.

“What is this?” He asked, looking at you now. He looked more confused than upset but you could already see the anger forming on his face. “You told her about us?”

“No,” You said quickly. “I told her some things but she had no idea I was talking about you.”

“How can you be so sure?” He asked. “She’d sell this in a heartbeat if she knew.”

“Oh, and you don't think Cynthia would sell this story?” You narrowed your eyes. “It’s not fair that you have her to talk to and I have no one.”

“So you pick her prying ass daughter? What do you need to talk to anyone about anyway?”

“What do you talk to Cynthia about?”

“Shit, I don’t know~ What to tell Dawn to keep her off us?”

You crossed your arms. “Andrea’s my friend, I trust her. And I made sure she didn’t know it was you.”

“And how’d you do that?”

“As far as she’s concerned I’m having an affair with some married man and nobody knows.” You shrugged but you were sure you weren’t coming off as unbothered as you meant to. “I told her that if anyone ever found out about it, his poor wife would leave him.”

“You told her that horrible story?” He asked after falling silent for a moment. A trace of a smile reappeared on his face and you felt yourself relax a bit. “You’re more creative than that, aren’t you, honey?”

“I also told her how much I loved him, and how nice he can be sometimes,” You said, trying to make him forget that he was mad at you.

“Sometimes?” He laughed. “You know what? Sometimes you get me so mad I could just crack your jaw. You shoulda told her that.”

“Don’t say that.” You looked down, only looking up when he handed the letter back. “I don’t know why you hate her so much.”

“I hate anything that tries to take you away from me.” He took the bottom of your face in his hand and made you look up.

“It’s my last night,” You said, your voice low and pleading. “Can’t we be nice to each other?”

“I’m not gonna pretend to like her.”

“She’s my friend.”

“You need to find new friends,” He said. “Friends your own age.”

“Friends my age?” You asked incredulously, pushing his hand away from your face. “That’s funny coming from you.”

“Older friends aren’t good for you,” He said, taking your face in both hands despite your protests. He stepped closer, tilting your head back so you still looked at him as you sat against your heels. “They make you forget you’re just a little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl.” You huffed in frustration. “If you think that, Elvis, you really don’t see me.”

“I do,” He said. “I see you better than you see yourself. That’s why you ought to listen to me.”

“All I do is listen to you.”

“If that was the case you wouldn’t be so damn bad at it.”

You pushed him away and maneuvered off the bed to put the letter in your luggage so that you wouldn’t forget it tomorrow.

“You don’t listen to me,” You said as you tucked the letter away. You faced him from where you stood across the room. “Why should I listen to you?”

“You want me to be nice?” He asked, ignoring your question. He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back against his hands. “I catch you bad mouthing me to your so-called friend~”

“I never bad mouthed you~”

“~and I’m supposed to be nice?” He continued to speak over you. “I don’t think that’s a reasonable thing to expect, birdie. I mean, you told her something bad enough~”

“I can’t help what she said, Elvis, I didn’t write it~”

“~you’ve given her some reason to tell you to leave me, so tell me just what the hell you said.”

You crossed your arms and the two of you fell silent.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, it don’t go well. You’re just gonna piss me off.”

“I didn’t tell her anything bad,” You stressed, your eyes burning with frustrated tears.

“Why are you tryna cry?” He seemed more annoyed at the sight of your watery eyes than concerned.

“Because you’re accusing me of something I didn’t do,” You said as best you could. “I only told her the truth.”

“And what’s the truth?”

“The truth is that…”

He’ll never choose you.

His eyebrow twitched as he waited expectantly for you to continue. “What?”

You shook your head, looking down. “I-I told her that I loved you. Even if it could only be in secret.”

“And she told you to leave me?”

“Yes.”

You looked up when he fell silent, finding his eyes on you already. He didn’t seem convinced.

“And you didn’t have anything to say about that?” He asked.

“I didn’t have anything to say,” You whispered, your eyes trained carefully on him.

He nodded as if he understood but you couldn’t tell by his expression. He reached his hand out and gently patted the spot next to him. “C’mere,” He said, looking at you expectantly. “Sit beside me, baby.”

You hesitated before crossing the room and joining him on the bed.

“I don’t want to have the same argument twice,” He said, putting his arm around you. “Okay?”

“Okay?” You were confused and upset. .

“I don’t want you talking to Andrea about us anymore,” He forced a patient smile as he spoke. “I don’t care what terrible lie you told her. I don’t trust her and I really don’t think she has your best interest at heart.” His smile faded as he continued to speak deliberately, making sure you understood how serious he was.

You started to say something, but he stopped you.

“Come on, birdie, don’t fight me on this,” He said. “I’m tryna protect you. I’m trying to protect us.”

“You’re trying to control me.”

“I don’t want to control you,” He stressed. “Try to understand, darlin. We can’t be too careful about this.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have any friends at all.” You crossed your arms and looked away from him. “Maybe then you’ll be happy.”

“I didn’t come here to argue with you,” He said, trying to end the conversation. “If you can’t get your shit together I’ll leave and see you back at Graceland in a couple weeks. What do you want? D’you wanna fight or what?”

You remained silent, debating whether or not to send him away. As much as you wanted him to go there was a larger part of you that always wanted him to stay.

“Don’t leave,” You said, your voice small and hardly above a whisper.

“Stop pouting like a baby and I won’t.” He chuckled. “We can be nice to each other.”

“Okay,” You said without meeting his eyes. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“I’ll wait for you.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek before letting you go. “Hurry up.”

You didn’t respond as you stood and went into the bathroom. You didn’t take long, doing the rest of your routine quickly before rejoining Elvis in the bedroom.

“All better?” He asked as he flipped casually through the notebook you used for school.

“Why’re you going through that?” You asked instead of answering, joining him on the bed.

“I like world history,” He said, letting you take the notebook away. “And the little seashells you draw on the corners of the pages.”

“You should do my homework if you like it so much,” You said, making him laugh. You sat the notebook on the bedside table and made a mental note not to forget it. “Elvis?”

“Oh lord, I know that tone.” He groaned sarcastically. “What now?”

“Nothing.”

“Something. What is it?”

You sat next to him against the headboard of the bed. “I’m worried that I’m only a challenge to you.”

“A challenge?” He sounded confused.

“Why do you want me so badly when you don’t need me?”

“Because I love you,” He said. “And I do need you.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, what matters is what I’m telling you.”

“I think that~”

“Goddamnit, birdie~”

“~I think you’re used to having whatever it is you want,” You said anyway. “And I don’t think you see me any differently.”

“I can’t stop you from thinking that, can I?”

“Don’t you have anything to say about that?”

You wanted to know what he was thinking, what his motives were. He was always in your head, thinking your thoughts before you thought them—as if he could see your motivations more clearly than you could. You wanted to be in his head for a change.

“I love you,” He reiterated. “Why can’t you be happy with that?”

“I am.”

“Okay, good.”

“I need to know more.”

“About what?”

“You.”

He shook his head, his eyes rolling slightly. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I’m telling you exactly what I want from you, E,” You said. “You don’t talk to me about your feelings like you used to. I can’t read you like you read me, I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” He asked, his voice rising in frustration. “I tell you I love you, is that not enough?”

“Not all the time, no,” You said, growing more frustrated as well. “I need more.”

“Lord, birdie, you’re so damn complex.” He sighed. “C’mere, sit right here.” He grabbed your arm and led you to straddle him.

“I’m not trying to nag you.”

“You’re doin an awful job.”

He laughed but you remained serious.

“I have to know. I can’t make sense of anything if I don’t know how you feel.” You had a feeling that you wouldn’t get a chance to ask these questions again. You worried that you’d get back to Graceland and make your mind up about leaving while you had the chance.

“What’s your question, doll?” His frustration had faded and been replaced with a hint of a smile.

“Why me?”

“Why anyone else?”

You looked away. Your heart swelled, so full of incommunicable love for the man before you. He tapped your chin and your tear glazed eyes met his confident gaze.

“Why anyone else?” He asked again. “When I have my pretty doll. My little baby birdie.”

Your voice was quiet and unsteady when you spoke again, holding back your tears. “I’m so…consumed by you. It scares me. A-And I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“What’s gonna happen when?”

“Ever.”

Elvis thought for a moment. “Well, I can tell you what’s gonna happen right now.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna show you how much I love you.”

You tried to focus on anything but the tears threatening to well in your eyes as you boarded your flight back to Memphis with Dawn. You could still feel Elvis’ goodbye kiss lingering on your lips as the plane got off the ground.

“Why the long face?” Dawn asked as you stared out of the window.

“I’m tired,” You lied partially. “I didn’t get any sleep last night.”

She didn’t respond for a while. “Two weeks won’t kill you.”

You turned your head and met her knowing eyes. You should’ve asked her what she meant. You should’ve tried to deter her somehow but you didn’t have it in you to lie to her. You hardly had it in you to lie to yourself.

“You know.” Of course she did.

“I’ve always known,” She said simply. “I just don’t understand.”

You nodded, swallowing harshly and looking down at your hands to hide the emotions stirring in your eyes. “It happened all at once, I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s not your fault,” She said, placing a sympathetic hand on your thigh. “You’re just a girl.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not happy with you, but I’m not mad.”

You met her eyes again. “You’re not?”

She shook her head. “I’m not. You just…it has to end.”

“I know,” You sighed. “I’m working on that.”

“Had I known this would happen I would’ve never taken the live-in position,” She continued. “We could’ve kept the house, you could’ve gotten a job somewhere else~”

“I know,” You said again, closing your eyes as your throat constricted with emotion. “I didn’t think this would happen. You have to know that.”

Dawn shushed you before you succumbed entirely to your emotions. “It happened, and we can’t change that. Leave it in the past now. Can you do that?”

You wished it was that easy. “I’m trying.”

You knew what you had to do.

Leaving Memphis wouldn’t erase everything that happened, but maybe, you thought, it would be easier for you to let go if you weren’t there. Maybe you would finally have the space to let him go. As much as it turned your stomach, you knew you needed to rediscover yourself. You needed peace.

And that peace came with you leaving Memphis.

Elvis,

If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I promised you that I would be there when you got home. I’m sorry I broke that promise. It’s not because I wanted to. I had to.

You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. You revealed to me parts of myself that I never knew—parts of myself that will never be the same without you. My decision to leave isn’t one I came to easily or because I don’t love you. More than anything I want you to know that.

I made this decision because I was beginning to lose myself in you. I couldn’t find where you ended and I began. I stopped recognizing myself and wanted only to see you. I let you shape and mold me into your girl, your little birdie. That’s all I ever wanted to be. All I wanted was for you to stay. In the good moments and in the bad. I realize now that, in doing that, I lost myself.

Andrea asked me once if I thought you would ever choose me. But, before then, Dawn told me that you never would. I believed her, but it didn’t stop me from wanting you. Now that I’ve had time to think, I’ve realized why she was so insistent. She knew from the beginning that we were headed nowhere fast. We weren’t destined for more than dark rooms and locked doors. We were destined to be hidden, to be kept a secret.

No one will ever know what we shared, how deep our connection truly was—or at least how deep it was for me. I won’t tell anyone. I’m sure you won’t either.

Above all, I hope that you have some good memories of our time together to hold on to. Memories that will make you smile when you think back to them even years from now.

I wish I could express in more words what you mean to me. I know it’s selfish, but I hope you’ll remember me. I love you, more than anything I love you.

Always,

your baby birdie.xxx

You stared down at the blank envelope in your hand, biting the inside of your lip as you contemplated leaving the letter in his room.

Two weeks had flown by and before you knew it Elvis was coming home. He’d be back at Graceland in two days or less. You weren’t as much of a wreck as you expected to be.

You packed up as many clothes as you could into the single suitcase you’d brought with you upon your arrival to Memphis. You filled it with clothes and a few other necessities. You couldn’t take all of your belongings, so you narrowed it down to the things you absolutely needed. You hadn’t told Dawn that you were leaving. You hadn’t planned to either, you knew she’d talk you out of it. Instead you told her that you were going on an overnight trip to Andrea’s. She believed you.

You called Andrea and told her the same story just in case Dawn decided to investigate.

You didn’t want anyone following you or trying to convince you not to leave. You were leaving and that was final.

“I’m glad the two of you decided to stay in touch,” Cynthia said when she saw you carrying your suitcase to the car. “I didn’t think you’d get along so well.”

“Yeah, well.” You chuckled. “She’s a good person.”

All that was left to do now was leave the letter in Elvis’ room.

When you entered his room you were greeted with an influx of memories. Memories of long, sleepless nights. You smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running your hand along the duvet.

You would miss this room.

You would miss the chill in the air and the dim lights. You’d miss Elvis’ scent and the way it invaded your senses. You wished you could kiss him one last time. You wished he could hold you through one more night. You knew nothing would make up for the emptiness you’d feel after you were gone. He took up so much of your life, you were bound to be left aimless and lost without him. But you knew it was the only way.

The longer you stayed there in his room the more guilt you felt about leaving the way you were.

You loved him too much to go without facing him. You were afraid that if you faced him before leaving that he would convince you to stay, but your mind was made up.

As afraid as you were to face him, you were more afraid of not saying goodbye.

You called Andrea when you got back to your room, keeping your letter so that you could deliver it yourself in person. You told her that you would come the night after tomorrow instead of tomorrow night. She sounded so excited to see you. Your guilt intensified.

You’d probably never see or hear from her again.

The night came quickly like you had expected it to. Your stomach churned and your palms were clammy. You kept telling yourself that you were ready, that you were prepared for this. But how could you be?

You kept wiping your palms on your jeans as you helped Dawn with a few finishing touches around the house.

“You’re sweating,” She pointed out while the two of you finished putting the dishes away. “You aren’t that anxious are you?”

“To see him? No. The past is in the past.”

“What are you gonna tell him?” Dawn asked. You weren’t used to talking to her about those kinds of things—it made you uncomfortable.

“I’m going to tell him the truth.” You closed the cabinet door, wiping your hands on the seat of your pants again. “He’ll be nice about it. He’s understanding.”

You expected him to be anything but understanding. But the last thing you wanted was for Dawn to have any animosity towards Elvis. You hoped that he wouldn’t punish her for your decision and let her go on working here after you were gone. He had a soft spot for Dawn so you knew he’d be gracious, even if he was angry at you.

“They’re back, and they brought their friends,” Cynthia said entering the kitchen. “I’m gonna get out of here before they get in.”

“I should too, I don’t want to get caught up in that mess,” Dawn said, untying her apron. “Are you still going to Andrea’s?”

“Yes, I’m going to leave in a little while,” You said, your heart hammered in your chest.

“Be careful,” Dawn said. “Don’t forget to call.”

“I won’t.” You hugged her. She tensed, shocked by the embrace, before hugging you back. “I love you, Aunt Dawn.”

“Oh,” She said, patting your back. “Well, I love you too.”

You pulled away, smiling at her before turning to leave the kitchen. “Goodnight, Cynthia.”

“Goodnight.”

The commotion from outside grew louder when the front door opened and everyone started pouring inside. You didn’t look for Elvis when you walked past the crowd of people, instead you ignored them and climbed the stairs to your room. You stopped by to grab the letter from your nightstand, folding it and slipping it into your back pocket before going to wait in Elvis’.

Your nerves grew worse as you sat on his bed anticipating his arrival. You tried to plan out everything you would say. You wanted to be as honest and straightforward as possible. It didn’t matter how many times you went over it in your head, because the second the door opened all the words left you.

You stood as he entered, clasping your hands to hide the way they anxiously trembled.

“There’s my girl.” He smiled. He looked genuinely happy to see you as he shut the door and met you.

“How was the trip?” You asked, tensing slightly under his touch when he slipped his arms around your waist.

“It wasn’t too bad,” He said. “We picked up some people along the way.”

“I saw,” You chuckled nervously. He kissed your temple before pulling away.

“I wanna stay up here with you, birdie, but they want me downstairs,” He said, walking towards his closet. “If you give me an hour out there we can spend the rest of the night together. I promise.”

“Elvis.” You stopped him. “I-I actually want to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until later?” He asked. “They were really houndin me about comin back down.”

“No,” You said, walking past him to lock the door. You paused for a moment before facing him again. “It can’t wait.”

He turned to you completely, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m leaving, E.” You swallowed and waited for his reaction.

“Where’re you going?” He asked. You could tell he wasn’t fully grasping what you were saying.

“I-I’m leaving Memphis,” You clarified. “Tonight.”

“Okay?” He narrowed his eyes. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “But…I can’t stay here.”

He continued to stare at you with a confused expression.

“I-I wanted to t-tell you face to face,” You continued. “I h-had to.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m being perfectly clear.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re leavin Memphis. Tonight?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Why?” He still seemed unconvinced. “Because of something I did or what?”

“It’s not one thing that you did.” Your voice trembled. “It’s-Its multiple. I made this decision for multiple reasons. It’s what’s best for me.”

“Birdie,” He sighed, shaking his head. “We don’t have to do this right now.”

“No, I do~”

“No you don’t,” He said firmly. “I don’t think you understand how irrational and fucking ridiculous you’re being~”

“I’m not being irrational,” You tried to speak over him, raising your voice slightly when he continued arguing. “Can you listen to me for a second?”

“We aren’t doing this right now,” He snapped. “You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think you’re just gonna up and leave town in the middle of the night. It’s not happening!”

“If I don’t do it now I’ll never~” Your voice buckled as the emotions you were warding off grew more intense. You took a breath. “If I don’t do this now I’ll never get the chance. Because I’m leaving tonight regardless of whether or not you listen to me.”

“You aren’t leaving.”

“I am. I was going to leave before you got back but that just didn’t seem fair.”

“Leave and go where?” He was growing more frustrated by the minute. “Where the hell are you gonna go?”

“I-I wanted t-to be able to tell you that I’m not leaving b-because I don’t love you,” You said, trying to swallow your tears. “I’m standing here right now because I do.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes. I do.”

“If you loved me you’d stay.”

You shook your head, taking a step back when he stepped towards you.

“I do love you,” You said. “I love you more than I love myself and that’s not okay. Not anymore.”

He fell silent, walking over to his bed and sitting down on the edge. He crossed his arms and stared at you. His frustration was fading into something else. Something more worried.

His jaw twitched. “W-What, birdie, what d-do you want me to do, huh?”

“I wrote you a letter,” You said, taking the envelope out of your pocket. “It’s just…I wrote it a few days ago, but~”

“I thought we were okay.” He looked off as he spoke now, his gaze distant. “Y-You~ I-I thought you said~”

“I don’t want to leave.” Tears formed in your eyes despite your best efforts. “I have to.”

He looked up at you from where he sat, his sapphire eyes boring into you. He didn’t speak for a long time, but when he did his voice was just over a whisper. “Don’t.”

You shook your head, balling your lips anxiously. The letter shook in your hand as you crossed the room to hand it to him.

“You don’t have to,” He said when you tried to hand it to him. “W-We can go back t-to how we were before~”

“Please take it,” You said. “Promise you’ll read it.”

He grabbed your wrist instead of the envelope, pulling you to stand between his legs. “Let me fix it.”

You looked down into his pleading eyes. “You can’t.”

His arms slipped around your waist. He pressed his forehead against your torso and hugged you.

You sat the letter beside him on the bed. “I have to go.”

“Birdie,” He continued. “I’ll do w-whatever whatever you want.”

You put your arms around him as he hugged you, smoothing the back of his hair in a comforting manner. “I love you.”

“Tell me what to do,” He said, pulling away enough to meet your eyes.

“Let me go,” You said, your voice cracking. The tears welling in your eyes finally fell and you forced yourself out of his grasp. “That’s all you can do.”

“Calm down and talk to me, baby, please?” He begged, holding onto you tighter. “Tell me what to do, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“It’s too late. Things are different now. I-I want to be different.” It was true, you didn’t feel the same as you did. The electricity had faded and the fire had fizzled—leaving you cold and full of quiet resentment that you feared would only fester if you stayed.

“Why can’t we talk?” He asked, his voice still small and desperate.

“Because you don’t listen when I talk.” You stumbled back as he stood, his hands gripping the top of your arms. “Y-You can’t convince me to stay. My mind’s already made up.”

“Who put you up to this?” He asked, disregarding what you were saying. “Andrea?”

“No.” You groaned, attempting to push his hands away. “I put myself up to it. Because I can think for myself and I know that I don’t want this anymore.”

“D’you want my attention? Do you want me to beg you to stay? You’re just a little girl, birdie, you don’t know what you want.”

“I don’t want this. We can’t even have a decent conversation anymore. You’ve hurt me time and time again, and you never seem sorry.”

“If you want me to be different, I can be different. I can’t change what’s already happened.”

“You’ll never change. I know you won’t, that’s why I have to leave.”

“You aren’t even giving me a chance.”

“I’ve given you chances.” You put your hands out when he stepped towards you, pressing them against his stomach. “I’ve given you chance after chance and you always disappoint me.”

“How have I disappointed you?” He asked.

You fell silent, it was hard to remember any specific occasion while your mind was racing like it was. You couldn’t think straight.

“You can’t even tell me?” He asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” You said, looking up at him again. “You can’t change my mind.”

“Where are you gonna go?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Andrea’s?”

“No.”

Silence fell over the room and neither of you spoke for a while. He finally said something when you tried to walk out of his embrace.

“L-Let me try,” He said as you pried his hands off of you. “Let me t-try to be better.”

“No.”

“What do you want me to do? You want me to beg you? Look, I’m begging you~”

“I’m sorry, E, I just can’t.”

Your broken heart crumbled further when he spoke your name, his tone pleading and desperate. You could count on one hand the number of times he’d called you by your name. Hearing his desperate voice saying it now made your legs feel weak beneath you. “Baby, you don’t have to do this. I-I mean what a-about Dawn~”

“She doesn’t need me.”

“…I need you.”

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek before you pulled away completely. You didn’t wait another second before rushing out of the room. You dried your tears uselessly as you shut the door behind yourself and walked away.

You stalled in the hall for a moment, looking over your shoulder as if he’d come racing after you at any moment. You waited for his door to open, you waited for him to continue begging you to stay.

When he didn’t, you took that first step—the hardest step—and walked away.

You dried your tears as best you could, trying to put on a brave face before going downstairs. You left Graceland that night without looking back. Tears clung to your lashes and spilt down your face, but you never once looked back.

You felt like you were leaving a part of yourself behind as you drove aimlessly—taking the first exit you saw to the nearest train station.

You thought about Dawn and how she would react upon discovering that you left and weren’t coming back. You would call her and explain everything when you got the chance. You knew she’d be worried.

You told yourself that you were making the right decision, that you were choosing yourself. And, even though it didn’t make you any less afraid, you were proud.

A/n:

Thank you so much for the kind words and encouragement, this is my first elvis fic and you all have been so kind and supportive <3

~a sinner

ps.i promise this isn’t the end for birdie and e <3

#elvis presley #elvis x you #elvis imagine #elvis fluff #elvis smut #black reader #elvis presely smut #elvis x black reader #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #austin elvis imagine

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unpredictable-probabilities · 1 month ago

Text

A Vow Claimed || Chapter 1: Arranged

Summary:

After discovering that his family has fallen into hard times, Hob Gadling takes it upon himself to accept a wealthy proposition of marriage to an inscrutable scion.

Notes:

Thank you so much to @signiorbenedickofpadua for all the resources about the Regency era~

Still, this fic is more Vibes than Historical Accuracy and there will definitely be anachronisms especially about gender, people of color, and politics in general.

And as always, a big thank you to @patchyegg87 for helping me brainstorm this and for beta-reading <3

One last thing:

Apeiros (ah-pie-ruhs) - a surname to replace "Endless", from Ancient Greek ἄπειρος (ápeiros), meaning “infinite, boundless”

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 3,503

Square/Prompt: C2 - Arranged Marriage | @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Regency, Historical Inaccuracy, There's no homophobia, Arranged Marriage, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Hob has good parents, Dream does not

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59599552/chapters/152005054

═════ ◈ ═════

Hob swung his leg over the tall gate and dropped on the ground with a grunt, his winter coat barely softening his fall. One might have expected the only son of Lord Gadling to conduct himself with more grace, but anything resembling propriety had left Hob after his fourth mug of ale, and sneaking back into their house in the dead of night required more urgency than elegance, anyway.

He unsteadily rose to his feet, looking around at the windows to be certain that none of the lamps in the rooms were lit. His parents had retired to their bedroom before he even left the house and would most likely be asleep by now.

He made it to the entry hall and saw that there was light coming from the living room. Perhaps some servants were still awake, but he was friendly enough with them that none would give him any trouble should they run into him. He was about to head for the stairs and to his bedroom when he heard what sounded like hushed voices.

He furrowed his eyebrows and quietly approached the living room, staying hidden in the shadows of the corridor. He slowly peered around the corner and saw his parents on the sofa, a small lamp and two goblets of water on the small table in front of them.

“We could always sell this house,” said his mother. “With a land of this size, we could acquire enough fortune to move somewhere smaller and use the rest of the money to keep the farms going.”

“But this house belonged to your mother,” Hob’s father said. “And her mother before her. You had said that you wish to keep this house in the family,” he gently added.

“Oh but I don’t know what else to do, Frederick. It is only the beginning of December, and we have long weeks of winter ahead of us still. We can survive well enough until spring, but what then? Our crops will not grow nearly fast enough to replenish the money we had spent these past months.”

Hob felt something twist in his stomach. He was entirely aware of the part he played in why their finances had been nearly depleted, but he had no idea how bad the situation had gotten.

The alcohol that had been clouding his mind was dissipating, the pleasant haze of inebriation being steadily replaced with the realisation that he had been sneaking out a few nights a week for mindless amusement while his mother had been considering selling their home.

“There is still… the deal that Lord Apeiros had proposed in his letter,” his father said.

“No,” Hob’s mother shook her head. “I will not force our son into such an arrangement.”

Hob frowned. Even among the nobles, Lord Apeiros was exceptionally influential. His ancestors were barons and served as advisors or generals back when the country still had a monarchy, and House Apeiros still retained much of their wealth even when they no longer served the government. Why would someone like Lord Apeiros even take notice of their little family, and what did Hob have to do with any of it?

“Neither will I,” his father said reassuringly. “But perhaps we might take it into consideration, if it is something our son would be willing to do. He is six and twenty; he is more than old enough to make the decision for himself.”

His mother looked down at her lap and fidgeted with a handkerchief. “He had already given up half his salary for the administrative work he does for the farms, I cannot ask him to do this.”

“Do what?” Hob stepped out of the shadows and faced his parents.

“Hob,” his father said in surprise.

“Are you heading out at this hour?” his mother—who he now noticed had red rims around her eyes—frowned at his winter coat.

“What does Lord Apeiros want with me?” Hob asked, but was only met with the hesitant gazes of his parents. “Mother, please.” He walked over to sit beside her, taking her hand in both of his. “How can I help?” He looked to his father in hopes that he would explain. “Let me pay back the fortune I had lost.”

“The tavern brawl was not your fault, son,” his father said kindly, the grey half-circles under his eyes giving him a weary expression. “You merely defended Miss Johanna’s honour.”

“And who knows what would have happened to you two had you not fought back,” his mother squeezed his hand.

Hob knew they were right, but even before that night he had already been spending their money on lavish parties he held in this house to celebrate the harvest season, as he had done so for the past three years. The hefty sum they had to pay for the damages done to the tavern was merely the final straw.

“What does Lord Apeiros want?” Hob persisted.

His mother looked down at their joined hands and pursed her lips, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

It was his father who spoke, slowly as if being careful in choosing his words. “Lord Apeiros has expressed his faith that once this winter is over, we will continue to be the town’s main supplier of crops. He is interested in… being involved with our livelihood.”

Hob furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “He means to purchase our farms?” He supposed it made sense, rich noblemen had been known to buy lands and businesses they might find profitable. But that still didn’t explain what it had to do with him; he just worked at their farms but the ownership is still under his father’s name.

His parents exchanged glances, and his mother’s grip on his hand tightened a fraction.

“He has a son of the same age as you…” she said, still looking at their joined hands. “If our families were to legally unite, so would our finances.”

Hob’s face went slack with realisation as his mother’s words slowly became clear. He was frozen in place as his mind tried to deny and reason that perhaps he had misunderstood.

His father met his gaze, and Hob dreaded to hear the explanation that he had been insisting upon.

“He means for you to marry his son. Mr. Morpheus Apeiros.”

═════ ◈ ═════

“My lord?” The voice of their librarian took Morpheus out of the story he had been reading. “You’re here early. Have you broken your fast?” She approached his table.

“I had no appetite to do so,” Morpheus said without looking up from his book, staring at the fine grains of sand in the illustrated hourglass. “And I still do not have it, so I would thank you not to bother with convincing me to have a meal,” he cast a sideways glance at her.

Lucienne sighed. “I do wish you would develop healthier eating habits, my lord.”

“And I wish you would stop calling me by that title in private. It seems we are both disappointed,” he said lightheartedly. They were childhood friends and he had grown closer to Lucienne than some of his siblings; it always made him want to wrinkle his nose whenever she called him by a title.

Lucienne pulled up a chair and took a seat to his right. “What’s got you brooding on this fine spring morning, Morpheus?”

He closed the book and placed it on the table, resting his palm on the cover. “The meeting… is today.”

Lucienne was silent for a few moments. No doubt she knew of today’s significance; all the house staff were made aware so as to prepare the necessary arrangements. Far be it from House Apeiros to disappoint guests.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Lucienne asked quietly, kindly and without pity. It gave Morpheus some degree of comfort.

“No,” he said sincerely. The time for second thoughts had long since passed. “I am simply making the most of what little time I have left available to myself. Once the arrangement has begun I might not have the luxury of being here at my leisure.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lucienne furrowed her eyebrows. “You will still have time to yourself, will you not?”

Morpheus leaned back in his seat. “Mother and Father do not approve of my spending time reading books that have nothing to do with making profits. What sort of spouse do you imagine they have handpicked for me?” He had already accepted the possibility that he would have to hide his reading habits from yet another person in his life that he would be forced to live with, and yet it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Lucienne fell silent, knowing that empty words of comfort would just upset him further.

“It’s strange,” Morpheus smiled without mirth. “They named me after the Greek god of sleep and dreams, yet they see little value in me resting or engaging in anything remotely artistic.”

He traced his fingers on the embossed letters of his name on the book cover, so familiar and yet distant. He could not be any more different from his namesake; the god Morpheus was free to create stories and shape the dreams of others, while he was not free to shape his own.

“Sometimes I think they just named us after gods to sate their vanity,” Morpheus muttered half to himself. “Perhaps Father found out what our family name meant in Ancient Greece and decided to lean into the Greek aesthetic.”

Lucienne huffed a chuckle. “That does sound like him.”

They sat in relatively comfortable silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Do you really not think it possible to become friends with your betrothed? You could both make the situation better for yourselves if you could at least confide in each other.”

Morpheus could feel a slight frown crease his forehead. He had asked Matthew to gather all the information he could about Lord Gadling’s only son, and suffice to say he was not holding out hope that they would get along well. With his famous parties and rumours of drunken nights at taverns, Robert Gadling seemed frivolous at best and a scoundrel at worst. More likely than not, Lord Gadling was hoping to force his son to be tempered by marriage to an influential family, or at the very least make him someone else’s problem.

Morpheus sighed and opened his book again. “I should like to be left alone now, Lucienne.”

She nodded and stood up. “I will tell Matthew to bring you some food.”

Morpheus turned to her and frowned. “He is my secretary, not a servant.”

“He’s the only one who is never afraid to approach you no matter how grumpy you’re being,” Lucienne pointed out.

“I am not grumpy,” he said indignantly, to which Lucienne responded with an amused smirk. “And I thought no food is allowed in the library?”

“It’s allowed if I say it is,” Lucienne said with finality before turning on her heel to presumably fetch Matthew.

Morpheus allowed himself a small smile as the door closed behind her. If nothing else, he knew he would always have the two of them.

═════ ◈ ═════

“Can’t remember the last time I’d seen you all dressed up.”

Hob had been standing beside the carriage and he turned at the sound of Jo’s voice. “I could say the same about you, Miss Johanna.”

They dressed more like the common people whenever they went with their friends outside, mainly because their friends were common people, and they’d preferred to blend in.

Today was different, however. Hob’s entire ensemble was tailor-made and designed to impress even the most scrutinising nobles, while Jo was dressed in fine outdoor clothing befitting of her stature as the daughter of a viscount.

“We haven't seen you in months and now you’re off getting engaged?” she had walked over and leaned against the carriage with her arms crossed.

Hob managed a smile. “No engagement yet. Everyone still has to agree to the finality of it in today's meeting.”

Jo snorted, which looked mildly unnerving given her elegant dress and hairstyle. “You're not going to be able to go out with us anymore, being a married man. We'd have one less bloke to bet on card games and pay for drinks.”

“Abel usually has enough coin to bet, and from what I hear Rachel's buying you drinks now, eh?” Hob quipped. He wasn't entirely surprised about it, anyone with working eyes would see how those two looked at each other.

A light blush coloured Jo’s face even as she glared. “We're talking about you now.” Her scowl turned into something resembling concern. “Are you sure about this, Hobsie? The Apeiros aren't just any noble family. You'd have eyes on you all the time, your every movement criticised and catalogued for the papers.”

“I don't believe it'll be that bad,” Hob felt like he was trying to convince himself more than her. “The man I'm set to marry is hardly ever in the papers. Perhaps his preference for solitude would work to my advantage in staying out of the public eye.”

Jo took a step closer and lowered her voice. “I’ve met Morpheus Apeiros in a handful of social events, always stiff as a board and never deigns a smile to anyone. He might seem like one of those prissy lordlings you find challenging to swive, but you would actually have to stay with him for far longer than a night of bedding.”

Hob almost winced at the blunt reminder of who he had been just months ago. “I know, but I don't see him as someone to bed as a challenge, I actually hope to befriend him. It's reasonable to assume that he would like to avoid a miserable marriage just as much as I do.”

Jo sighed. “I know your parents aren't forcing you to do this. So why are you?”

Hob absently traced his fingers on the family crest engraved on the ring he was wearing. As the firstborn he was obliged to wear it to important appointments. “I have to do this, Jo. I gave my word to my parents three months ago that I would do all I can to help and make up for my past mistakes. And I'm standing by it.”

Jo shook her head. “You never should have fought with those thugs back in September.” The guilt in her voice didn't escape Hob’s notice.

“I wasn't referring to that,” he said sincerely. “They deserved it, and I'd do it again. But maybe smarter next time, and with not as much property damage.”

Jo rolled her eyes fondly.

“Miss Johanna,” said the delighted voice of Hob’s mother.

They turned to see her arm-in-arm with Hob’s father, walking down the front steps following the coachman who took his place in front of the carriage.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Hob’s father smiled. “We had not seen you in a long time.”

“You have grown so much!” Hob’s mother cooed as they stopped walking in front of Jo.

“Lord Frederick, Lady Amelia,” Johanna returned the smile and curtsied politely. “I just came to see old Hobsie before he's gone.”

“I'm going to get engaged, not hanged,” Hob scowled at her playfully.

His mother chuckled. “Well, we best be off now. It would not do to be tardy,” she patted Hob’s arm.

They said their goodbyes and soon enough the carriage was rolling along the path to the wealthier part of town.

Hob could not have guessed how long the journey had been, nervous as he was and feeling cold despite the sunny weather.

It felt like no time at all and they were stepping out of the carriage and onto the grounds of the Apeiros manor. Hob vaguely noticed the carriage drive away once more, and the pleasantries exchanged by his parents and the house staff as they were invited in. They had arrived a bit early, apparently, and they were being led to some chairs and tables in the garden to have some refreshments while the banquet was being prepared.

The chill that Hob had been feeling in the carriage ride had completely disappeared and he could almost feel himself sweating under his clothes. They were outdoors but somehow the imposing walls of the manor felt suffocating, the tall windows like eyes looking down upon him with judgement.

“I'm sorry, pardon, can I take a stroll while we wait?” Hob asked one of the footmen nearby.

“Of course, Mr. Gadling,” the footman tipped his head politely. “You may all walk the garden freely, and you will be summoned when it is time for lunch.”

“Are you well, my dear?” His mother asked, frowning in concern.

“I am,” Hob forced himself to smile. “Just need to stretch my legs after the carriage ride.”

“Don't you want some refreshments first, at least?” his father gestured to the drinks and fruit slices on the table.

“No, I'm fine, really.” Hob hoped his nausea didn't show on his face. “I'll be right back.”

He turned and walked away slowly enough as to remain polite and inconspicuous, but couldn't stop his feet from speeding up once he was out of sight of everyone.

He stopped beside a fountain and took out his handkerchief to dab at the sweat on his forehead. He had managed to keep relatively calm about this arrangement for the past three months, and now it seemed that without the worries of winter occupying his mind, all the nervousness was catching up to him.

A sudden flap of wings startled him and he gasped, almost tripping on his own feet as he stumbled backwards.

A black and white raven had perched on top of the fountain, looking at Hob with beady eyes and its head tilted slightly to the side. Was it curious? Hob hadn't spent enough time with birds to know.

“You gave me a fright,” Hob addressed the raven if only to work off some of the uneasiness thrumming under his skin. “I thought my heart would stop, and I have no intention of dying today, thank you very much. Or ever, if I can help it.”

“Did I hear you say you have no intention of ever dying?”

Hob whirled around and nearly stumbled again, searching for who had spoken.

A fair man dressed in fine dark clothing was walking towards him. He seemed to have come from the bench a few feet away that Hob had failed to notice when he first turned this corner. Embarrassment heated Hob’s face as he realised that the man had just watched him have a conversation with a bird, though he noticed that the man didn't seem to be mocking him. There was only curiosity in those piercing blue eyes.

The man held a book to his side as he walked, a finger placed between the pages to keep it from closing entirely. He carried himself with far too much confidence to be a servant, and was dressed too elegantly besides. His black shirt was obviously tailored to his slender frame, and the waistcoat hugging his torso was embroidered with deep blue and white patterns that blended well with the rest of his clothing, making it appear as if he was wearing a piece of the night sky.

“Uh, yeah,” Hob belatedly realised that he still hadn't responded until the man was standing right in front of him. “Yeah, that's right,” he offered a smile that he hoped looked playful yet polite.

The man glanced at the raven before looking at Hob again. “She will not harm you. She is merely curious about unfamiliar faces.”

His voice was deeper than Hob had expected, and quieter. It made Hob think of weighted blankets on cold nights.

“Good to know.” Hob returned his handkerchief back to his breast pocket, and the man’s eyes followed the movement.

“Robert Gadling?” the man asked, his gaze meeting Hob’s after having seen the ring on his finger.

“Yes,” Hob instinctively straightened his posture. Something about hearing his name in that voice reminding him that he should conduct himself properly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir…?” he held out his palm.

The man regarded him for a moment before accepting the handshake. “Morpheus Apeiros. I believe we are indeed meant to get acquainted today.”

Hob felt as if his heart had dropped to his stomach and then proceeded to turn into fluttering butterflies. Of course, of course this would be Morpheus. This was his house, for God's sakes.

Their handshake was already done, but Hob could still feel the cool smooth skin against his palm, and he gave a silent prayer of thanks that his hands hadn't been sweating despite his nerves.

Several thoughts were vying for Hob’s attention at once; embarrassment that he didn't recognise his betrothed, wondering if he had already made a fool of himself, relief that Morpheus didn't seem put off at all.

But one thought rang more clearly than the others, bringing a warmth to his face that had nothing to do with the weather.

I'm going to marry this man.

═════ ◈ ═════

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

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dreamywriterinthedark · 3 years ago

Text

First time

Pairing: Spencer x Reader (gender neutral <3)

Category: vanilla smut

Resume: in which you go to Reid’s appartement to watch a movie but you end up making love for the first time.

Trigger warnings: sex. (lmk if i forgot something)

IF YOU ARE A MINOR, this is not for you.

A/N: I haven’t posted for like a week. I apologize I had exams and I was still preparing some things for this blog. I hope you like this one. It’s my first time writing things like that. ANY feedback is welcome! And so are requests!

The air was cold outside. It was the after hours, your favorite time of the twenty four hours that composed a day. The traffic lights communicating to ghosts, the fog glooming on the apartment’s windows from the thermic shock between the cold raindrops like shivers on skin and the slightly warmer inside. The hardwood floor and the chesterfield brown sofas distracted one’s eye from the almost gothic looking dark interior.

You had been dating for over three months now with the firm intention of taking things slow. Him being older led to him being more mature and respectful than people your age especially with your outstanding intelligence. Spencer always made sure you were comfortable, he would never force you to do something against your own will or something you weren’t ready for surely one of the reasons you were taking it slow. You were taking it slow just as you would as when you were friends. You were the one he knew for the shortest amount of time but that he trusted the most. Two years and he’d die for you as you would kill for him, something engraved in your mind unconsciously.

After almost losing you, he got closer which pleased you a lot since you did not want to overpush his boundaries knowing he isn’t the best at social cues and gets easily overwhelmed by physical touch. Despite the absence of physical intimacy, he knew you and explored you in a depth no one can or has before. Needless to say, lovemaking was only a formality because his piercing eyes and his marvelous mind were enough to undress you.

However, it was something that has been on your mind lately quite a lot especially when sitting across from him; on the jet when he would rub circles on your thigh with his fingers to reassure you or when he would brush your hair out of your eyes as you were looking down at a file. In the conference room, noticing the way he licked or pursed his lips as his eyebrows would furrow when he was deep in thought.

So when you were on his bed hearing him ramble about a small historic inaccuracy from the movie projected on the wall you couldn’t help but crash your lips against his desperately craving the feeling of his finger tips on your skin, desiring to get lost in his lungs until your breathing stopped and your lungs collapsed.

His shoulders tensed at the sudden touch but then relaxed. He cupped your cheeks with his hands inhaling sharply from his nose, you felt its cold tip on your cheek so when you pulled out for panting for air, you wondered if the flush was really from the cold. From that things escalated, his gentle touch interrupted the throbbing on your temples as if his hands had the power to heal. As one of his hands remained on your cheek the other traveled to your waist. He then gripped your knee leaning forward to lay you down. Your back felt the comfiness of the pillows as you breathed in his perfume.

It was all so nice until you realized what this was leading to as his kiss became more demanding and his hands became more explorative.

“Spencer.” you spoke. He looked up, the contentment on his face turned to concern.

“You okay? Did I do something wrong ?”

“No, no, no, it’s just...”

“Is this your first time ?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, I should’ve asked if you were ready.”

“What if I am ?”

“Is that what you want ?”

“Yes.”

He dampened your neck with his mouth slightly biting it as if you were candy and he was addicted to the sugar rush.

“Try not to tense up too much otherwise it may not feel good.” he said looking after you which was ironic since it felt like you were completely melting, all your troubles evaporating. His fingers traced your skin the same way they do on book pages as if your skin was a map and his touch a compass. You could feel butterflies from how his jaw moved, his pink lips lingering on every surface of skin they land on. Spencer was experimented and knew how to take care of you. His cold hands found the warmth of your waist escalating south which made you gasp. You understood, all of the sudden, the great use of one of the many books you found on his desk from the first time you walked into the walls of the BAU. He nibbled at your ear lobe whispering sweet nothings until he slipped off your underwear.

You intertwined your fingers together, your breath hitching as he worked his magic. You felt a warm go through your legs as if your blood flow quickened and ran more smoothly. He had to bite his lips to stop himself from losing control. Your legs started shaking so he disconnected your hands to take hold of them. You tilted your head up while rolling your eyes moaning in ecstasy finding it harder to breathe. You were suffocating in the most exquisite way as if he was the only thing keeping you on earth. At least you weren’t worried about being cold anymore.

Gaining confidence you tangled your hands up in his curly golden brown locks. His finger lightly tugged on your bottom lip making his tongue slither in like a snake. That night you saw stars in your eyes without even having to look up at the sky. That night, you felt human. You felt alive again.

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silksandcravats · 4 years ago

Text

All Tied Up - Viscount!Kylo

Once again I find myself taking my sweet time with the backstory kylo piece so in its place please accept another piece of viscount!kylo smut <3

Lady Ren stumbles across a rather indecent piece of literature which leads to her taken certain sexual liberties with her husband OR reader insert ties Kylo to the bed.

masterlist

Warnings/contents: fem!reader, bondage, PIV sex, unprotected sex, regency era, reader still has limited sexual knowledge, historical inaccuracies probably

You fidgeted with the ribbons in your hand, turning them over and over again. Blue felt like as good a colour as any to use. It was a wicked idea, surely not one that might be expected from a gently bred lady such as yourself. But then, the idea wasn’t originally yours, that terribly indecent book was to blame. And it’s not like you sought the book out! You had only been seeking out the newest Jane Austen novel, which had the town abuzz (though the opinion of the female author herself was rather mixed).

You, unfortunately, had been rather late to hearing about the work, meaning there was not a copy to be spared in all of Mayfair. Not to be deterred, you had linked arms with your ladies maid, and bribed one of your coachmen a whole two pounds to take you into the city. (The act of bribery had become necessary after the man expressed concern that the Viscount might not approve of your excursion, he was right of course but you were not easily dissuaded.)

Whilst scouring the shelves of that London bookshelf, you noticed a book at the end of the row had been turned down so the spine was hidden and pushed back slightly as if someone had been trying to hide it. Upon further inspection you found the title to be, “The art of Basketweaving”.

How curious, you thought to yourself, turning the book over in your hands. Why would anyone have need to hide this?

It took only a brief look inside for you to realise the book had nothing to do with baskets at all. Your cheeks grew very hot and you slammed the book shut, not wanting to be caught reading it, at least not here. And so in the end you returned to Mayfair with a very different sort of book.

Which lead you up to now, sitting in your bedchambers, awaiting your husband who should return from parliament any time now. You turned the book open to study the position once more. It was the most devious, most erotic drawing you had ever seen. The way the man’s wrists had been crossed over and snuggly tied to the bedpost, the way the woman on top appeared to be lowering herself onto him, you had to admit you hadn’t even known it was possible!

You slammed the book quickly when you heard approaching footsteps you knew belonged to your husband. You hid the book in the top drawer of your writing desk, beneath loose stationery, and pushed the door shut.

The Viscount used your first name to greet you, coming into the room just as you tossed the ribbons onto the bed.

“Hello darling,” you smiled turning to face him. You felt slightly nauseous as you watched his eyes flicker briefly to the ribbon on the bed. You made yourself take a deep breath as he turned back to you, trying to force your nerves to calm, he didn’t know what you were up to, he couldn’t.

“I did not expect to find you here at this time of day,” he spoke walking towards you. You hated when he looked at you this way - like he already knew all of your secrets, but you knew you couldn’t look away, that would be as good as branding yourself with the word “guilty”.

“I was hoping we might enjoy each other’s company for a while, before dinner,” you did your best to sound innocent, snaking your arms around his neck.

“Is that so?” He queried, his hands coming down to grasp your waist.

“Yes,” you breathed, tipping your face up to meet his. He kissed you briefly, before pulling back.

“And what might be the occasion?”

“No occasion,” you shook your head, tugging slightly at his cravat. He hummed thoughtfully but didn’t reply, allowing you to pull the material free. You knew he was suspicious, but he didn’t push, allowing you to pull through his layers. His hands roamed you, undressing you at a much slower pace than you were him. And so when you finished you splayed your hands across his chest, and leaned forward, kissing slowly up his torso.

“You’re very eager,” he noted, finally removing your drawers.

“Is such a sin to want one’s husband?” You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping to replace his curiosity with lust.

“Not at all,” He smirked, pulling your now naked form closer to him and kissing you again. You knew you had to be careful here, one wrong move and you would end up below him, and then you might as well forget your plans. You let your hands roam him a moment longer and slowly, slowly backed him up to the bed and then-

“I know you left Mayfair today,” He broke away, speaking down to you. Your brows furrowed.

“How did you-”

“I gave him five pounds.”

He then took you by surprise, dropped back on the bed, and pulling you along on top of him. This was good, now he was right where you wanted him.

“Five?” You gasped, trying to linger on the topic of staff rather than your unauthorised outing. “We shall be out a coachman when he runs off with his new fortune.”

His fingertips grazed the flesh of your hips, tracing your skin, his touch was sinful but you couldn’t allow yourself to bask in it now, you needed his hands higher up. Your situation was still quite precarious after all, he might flip you onto your back at any moment.

“I don’t know what was more foolish, you leaving Mayfair or thinking I wouldn’t know,” he admonished. You grasped his hands, feeling pleased when he cooperated, and dragged them up slowly.

“I did bring Daisy along,” you pointed out, frowning innocently.

“I’m beginning to believe I allow you too many liberties, perhaps I ought to take you in hand,” He spoke suggestively, the meaning of his words not lost on you. His eyes were darkening, you were running out of time, if you were going to act it had to be now.

“Actually,” you leaned in.

All at once, you took over. In a speed even you hadn’t known you possessed, you snatched up your hair ribbons, which were already within arms reach, and shoved his wrists against the headboard, tossing one over the other and tied them to the spot, quickly and firmly. You prayed it was tight enough.

“I should like to take a few more liberties before the day is through,” your lips ghosted over his, your stomach lurched at the boldness of your actions but you held your composure.

“You devilish woman,” he pulled his head back from you, leaning against the pillow to look up at your handiwork. He survived the bonds for a moment but made no effort to yank free, instead he sighed.

“That was very clever of you darling,” he admitted, turning his gaze from his hands to meet you again. “But what do you plan to do now that you have me?”

“A great many things I should think,” you spoke boldly. You reached down and grasped his length, first loosely, then you tightened a bit, give him a few teasing strokes. You watched proudly as his already partially hard cock grew firmer in your grip, fully standing at attention now. Still in the first bloom of marriage, you hadn’t mastered his body yet. You were still learning the best ways to touch and tease.

A few drops were beginning to collect at his tip so you swiped your thumb along his slit, collecting the moisture, the contact making him hiss. And then, feeling incredibly vulgar, you lifted your thumb to your mouth and licking slowly. Kylo let out a shameless moan in response, watching you with great interest. This was going very well indeed.

“And where might my sweet little wife get such a wicked idea from?” He quirked a brow, watching your hand work him. Even now, bound to the bed he looked calm and collected, and perhaps even somehow still in control. In fact, he looked almost as if he was lying in the garden of your country home, basking in the summer sun.

You didn’t answer. He was fully and entirely erect now and so you pulled away, leaning up on his thighs and looking down at him with determination. Your hand slipped between your legs and you touched yourself, pushing two fingers inside of yourself and moving them in a sort of scissoring motion the way Kylo always did before he took you. It wasn’t the same of course, your fingers were smaller and you couldn’t work yourself open the same way, but you did your best given your position.

“If you need help wife, you need but ask,” he chimed, watching you touch yourself. His demeanour was still collected but there was a hunger in his eyes, clearly you weren’t the only one who wished it was his fingers plunged inside of you.

“That’s quite alright husband,” you shook your head, pulling your fingers away and moving above him. You grasped him again aligning himself to your opening and taking a deep breath.

“Go ahead, darling.”

Perhaps he was asking you to hurry along because he was eager, but it was also possible his words were encouraging, and you couldn’t have him thinking you were nervous, so you briskly lowered yourself all the way down, filling yourself to the brim. You both moaned loudly at your action.

You hadn’t been able to open yourself up as well as he does, so the stretch of him burned more deeply than you were used to causing you to wince. Being on top you knew you had all the time you would like to adjust, but you couldn’t give your husband the satisfaction of knowing how affected you were.

And so you adjusted slightly and, -consequential soreness be damned- you began rocking yourself on top of him, up and down. The third time you moved you went too far and he slipped out of you. You nearly cursed but instead you simply repositioned and tried again.

It took you a few tries to set a rhythm, and Kylo, knowing when and when to not tease his wife, kept his amusement to himself as best he could while you gathered your bearings. Finally, you slipped into a fluid pattern, bouncing on top of him rather pleasantly.

Whenever Kylo bedded you, he fully sheathed himself with every single thrust, knocking against something deep inside of you, and he couldn’t help but notice that now that it was your turn you made sure to never drop all the way down. Not because you didn’t enjoy the feeling, he knew you liked it quite a bit, but rather he realised it was too intense for you to subject yourself to.

It felt wonderful to have him this way, but it was taking quite a bit of energy to maintain your pace and you were beginning to develop a newfound sense of respect that he was able to ravish you so frequently and for so long. You knew you’d be able to finish this way, and you were fairly sure he could too, and so you willed yourself to carry on. It wasn’t until you begin to pant softly that Kylo couldn’t resist speaking up.

“You seem to be overexerting yourself, dear, shall I take over for you?” He cooed, his voice sweet and heavy like honey. It was a tempting proposition, to roll over and let him have you, but you finally held power in your grasps, and who knows when you might have it again?

“N-no,” you shook your head violently, picking up the speed even though your muscles were screaming, begging you to stop.

“Very well, come here then,” he nodded once, urging you toward him. You complied, sliding your hands further up his chest and leaning down to kiss him. Once he had your mouth on him he began to move beneath you, rocking up in time with you so that the next time you came down he slid farther inside of you knocking against your cervix making you screech his name, and then he did it again, and again.

“Touch yourself for me,” he groaned against your mouth. And so you did without thinking, having to shift in the process so you could reach, which only allowed him to further space to thrust up into you. You couldn’t believe it, he was topping from the bottom?

“Oh Kylo!” you exclaim, jolting when your fingers found your own little bud.

“That’s it darling,” he groaned, his own composure beginning to cripple, “come with me.” Your chest tightened, your rocking had grown sloppy and he was doing the bulk on the work now, he pushed up into you once, twice more and then your world shattered. Your eyes squeezed shut and your head tilted back, your mouth falling ajar. You felt him finish inside of you, gushing around your walls.

You were breathing heavily, even after the effects of your release had faded, feeling utterly and completely exhausted.

“That was excellent my love,” he spoke, and before you had the chance to free him, he tugged away from the bonds all on his own. The ribbons fell to the bed and you realised he had merely been allowing you to believe you had him subdued. He leaned up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you down to the bed. In instant, you were lying on your back and he on his side, holding you tenderly and wrapping you up in sheets.

“But in the future, I should think it better suited if you were the one in bondage, dear wife.” He dropped a swift kiss on your cheek. “And we will be having a discussion later about your little trip.”

TAGLIST - @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @ellenmunn @tashastrange89 @morby @clydesfavoritegirl @mariesackler @fizzywoohoo @reyloaddict55 @the-unmanaged-mischief @loganluckylover @boltonbritreads @cornmousequeen @lessismorestuff @icarusinthesea

tags that aren’t working :( - @hellohellohello127 @Mrscarpathianskarsgard @philtho2941

click here to join the taglist!

#visocunt!kylo #kylo ren #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fic #regency!kylo #regency au #kylo ren x you #adam driver x you #ben solo #ben solo smut #kylo ren writing #adam driver smut #ben solo writing #kylo ren fluff

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aromagni · 4 years ago

Text

Aplatonic Masterpost

(I use italics in this post for stuff that is more my commentary/analysis/etc, as opposed to more “factual” summary)

Aplatonic Definitions & Overview:

“Aplatonic” was coined on AVEN in 2012 in a thread here by a homoromantic Ace who expressed being unable to apply the word “love” to their friendships.

The original coining doesn’t come with a particularly precise definition, and there’s been many discussions regarding differing definitions for it. The following are two definitions which are often considered accurate for the term:

Definition 1: Aplatonic is an identity for people who experience little to no platonic attraction such that they rarely experience squishes, or desire to form a friendship with specific people.

Definition 2: Aplatonic is an identity for people who struggle to form platonic relationships of any kind, often due to neurodivergency and/or traumatic experiences.

Another definition which has been attributed with aplatonic, but also disputed as a definition, is this:

Definition 3: an identity for people who do not experience attraction such that they would want a queerplatonic relationship.

This third definition would be more accurate for the term “aqueerplatonic”, but was misattributed to the term aplatonic in the past. However, while this is not an accurate definition for aplatonic, the lines between platonic and queerplatonic attraction can be extremely blurry such that this may be relevant to some aplatonic experiences.

Other notes on Aplatonicism:

Aplatonicism also has an Aplatonic spectrum which includes identities such as demiplatonic and greyplatonic.

Aplatonic is a term generally used by people who are a-spec(Ace or Aro) and/or neurodivergent.

Aplatonic is NOT simply “not having/wanting friends” (it has historically been dismissed as such by exclusionists who mock the term, unfortunately).

Aplatonic can be shortened to “apl”, and thus apples are considered an aplatonic symbol.

(More information and links regarding definitions of aplatonic are below under “Aplatonic Discussions”)

Aplatonic Pride Flags:

[Image Description: aplatonic flag with 4 horizontal stripes which are purple, blue, green, and light yellow/cream from top to bottom]

This was the original aplatonic flag, the oldest surviving link of it is found here, from 2015.

[Image Description: aplatonic flag with 4 horizontal stripes which are black, grey, white, and yellow from top to bottom]

This was an alternate aplatonic flag proposed in 2016 (link here).

(More information on these flags can be found at this link from lgbtq wiki)

Aplatonic Spectrum & Demiplatonic:

Aplatonic Spectrum, or apl-spec, is an umbrella term for people who experience little to no platonic attraction. (AUREA’s definition here)

Aplatonic Spectrum Flags: a masterpost with many aplatonic spectrum identities, their definitions, and their flags.

Demiplatonic Overview: a post I made about my involvement with the term demiplatonic and demiplatonic flags

Experiences Feeling Demiplatonic: a post I did for carnival of aros about why I feel demiplatonic

Aplatonic Discussions:

Over the years, there’s been a lot of misinformation and general lack of clear accurate information regarding this term, such that there’s been many discussions regarding the definition. As someone who is somewhat younger to the community I probably also contributed to misinformation at times due to the sources I was looking at being themselves inaccurate.

The above definitions are what I can best summarize from the posts I have seen discussing it but might be influenced by my own experiences and I don’t want to claim expertise and argue those as objective fact, considering how much differing discussion there has been.So, here’s links to various discussions regarding the definitions & misinformation around this term, such that you can assess other sources for yourself.

Links regarding aplatonic definitions & History:

Link 1: “Definitions of Aplatonic” thread on Arocalypse Forums

Link 2: Tumblr thread refuting “not wanting qpr” definition, with many people adding to discussion.

Link 3: Tumblr thread refuting the “not wanting/having friends” definition that originated by exclusionists, and other misinformation on the term.

Link 4: an older Tumblr post with an infographic of aplatonic, with more recent comments by the OP about inaccuracies.

Link 5: another tumblr thread about the definition of aplatonic and ways people originally used it, and touches on why some people are uncomfortable with non a-spec people using it due to misuse by exclusionists.

Link 6: tumblr thread about aplatonic definitions and it’s usage relating to the a-spec community along with neurodivergency and traumatic experiences.

Link 7: tumblr post discussing who can “use” the term aplatonic and discusses history of how meaning has warped over time.

Link 8: Tumblr short masterpost regarding aplatonic as a descriptor term used by aro community.

Related Terminology:

There are various terms that have similar but different meanings to aplatonic (which also come up in the linked discussion posts. The word being defined has hyperlink to a source.)

Nonamorous: a lifestyle choice or relationship style that does not include intimate, long-term partnerships, whether romantic or platonic.

Nonpartnering: not wanting partnered relationships; this is similar to nonamorous but coined in response to some people being uncomfortable with the implied opposite of nonamorous because of romance repulsion.

Aqueerplatonic: not experiencing queerplatonic attraction.

Loveless (aro): a recent term for aros who do not use “love” to describe their experiences, often due to it’s associations with romance and enforcement of amatonormativity. (Sources don’t show a particularly precise definition for this one)

(Additional reading regarding these terms:

-This is one of posts linked before, but I had added onto it with distinctions I perceive between these words and aplatonic

-This is another post discussing nonamory and queerplatonic, and pressures within the community to feel certain ways)

Aplatonic Tags:

(the links are from searching tag & filtering for most recent)

#Aplatonic (general aplatonic tag)

#Actually Aplatonic (aplatonic tag that’s more specific to prevent random & troll posts, so is more of the good quality posts)

#aplatonic spectrum (more specific to aplatonic spectrum stuff)

#apl spec (alternate tag with more specific to aplatonic spectrum stuff though doesn’t have many posts)

#apl positivity (tag for aplatonic positivity stuff or other positivity that is relevant for aplatonic people, I encourage people to use this more)

#demiplatonic (tag for more specifically demiplatonic stuff.... I use this a lot on my blog. Tag does have some more troll/mocking posts unfortunately though, so bewarned)

#nonamorous (not aplatonic specific but generally tends to have more positivity and other discussions of adjacent topics regarding not having platonic partnerships and stuff)

#loveless aro (another aplatonic-adjacent topic regarding kind of opting out of the concept of love as an obligation/universal human concept)

Aplatonic Blog recs:

These are a mix of blogs I see actively involved in discussions on aplatonic and who I’ve taken notice of from following the aplatonic tag.

@aplatonicsafespace (aplatonic specific blog which answered asks a lot but seems currently inactive)

@aroarolibrary (Is a general aro blog which has talked about aplatonic for a long time and has more historical information on the term. I went through eir aplatonic tag and found many of the posts I linked under aplatonic discussions)

@apl-h (aplatonic focused blog)

@aromagni (my aro blog, I am demiplatonic so I talk more about apl-spec stuff and have organized tags for things you can search)

@askanaroace (an aroace ask blog ran by an aplatonic person who’s answered asks about aplatonic stuff before)

@kyanitedragon (is a general blog that has posted apl headcanons & aesthetics/pride stuff fairly often)

[Feel free to add on to this post with more aplatonic blog recs or other resources!]

#aplatonic #actually aplatonic #aplatonic spectrum #demiplatonic #aplspec #apl positivity #aromantic #actually aromantic #nonamorous #loveless aro #aspec #aspec community #aro community #masterpost #aro history #pride flags #my post #magni’s thoughts #long post

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

3+1 (Un)Wanted Mistletoe Encounters

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert Word count: 4200

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Kissing under the mistletoe is one of the most famous Christmas traditions; so obviously, it is not Christmas without it at the Tower.

Unfortunately for the occupants, you are not fond of the tradition – at all.

...or are you?

Warnings: cliché trope, pushy Pietro, discussion of dub-con I guess, language, fluff

A/N: Idea born from this video where John Mulaney says: “If any decoration needs to be MeToo’ed…” and goes on.

Beatiful divider by firefly-graphics

You were no Grinch.

In fact, you actually liked Christmas and the Holiday season, you enjoyed both giving and receiving and you appreciated when people found time to spend it together, whether in their own family circle or with their chosen one.

But. There was one significant ‘but’.

And with this being your first Christmas with the Avengers, Sam Wilson was about to learn about the said but first-hand, because that sweet kind-hearted dumbass with a sass streak walked right into it.

Quite literally.

December 23th, you woke up well-rested, got breakfast, wrapped several presents and were on your way to hunt down a lunch in the communal kitchen, when a voice stopped you in the doorway, where you nearly ran into Sam. Nearly.

“Ah-oh,” he hummed, a shit-eating grin spreading on his handsome face and you stopped dead in your tracks, frowning at the ominous sound.

“What?”

And then came the fateful words: “You’re standing under a mistletoe.”

You see, here was a thing; the tradition of hanging a mistletoe and meeting people under it by chance as an excuse to get a kiss from someone was… stupid. Downright idiotic. Pushing people into something they didn’t have a chance to back out from. Forced affection.

Yeah, that was not happening even if Sam was a real swell guy and you did find a newly hung mistletoe above your heads indeed as you briefly looked up to check if his words were true.

“Okay. And?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise, his tone turning slightly wavering.

“…And so am I?”

“And?” you continued, crossing your arms on your chest defensively, already preparing a rant that would hopefully spread like wildfire and ended this dumb tradition altogether. Or well, at least spread around the Tower so no one would ever try to corner you again.

“Really?” Sam deadpanned and you stared right back at him, your face probably displaying precisely how you felt; unimpressed.

“Yes, really,” you emphasized and pointed up at the offensive plant for a good measure. “This is a stupid concept, objectifying people, women especially. It’s about people being forced into showing affection they might not even feel. It’s bordering on a damn dub-con if not non-con.”

Sam blinked a few times, instinctively retreating as he felt you heating up. He raised his hands in a no-harm gesture to show he got your point.

But you were already on roll and you glimpsed Tony in the kitchen, so you thought that there was no harm in him hearing your speech too, just to make sure that the smug loveable bastard of a billionaire got the message as well.

“It’s like all those poor kids being asked why don’t you give your granny a hug before we go and a kiss to your granddad— well, it’s because I don’t want to and it’s my choice to give affection to someone! And now this thing, this is the tip of the iceberg, really, the last fucking drop- it needs to be Me Too’ed, I swear.”

You found yourself panting as you finished, your hands on your hips now – not that you realized you had put them there – and your belly hot and angry for some inexplicable reason; maybe it was the fact that it was Sam, amazing, friendly and understanding Sam Wilson, who had to go and point this stupid poisonous plant out for you; and have the audacity to ask for a kiss.

Dammit!

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he apologized sincerely, voice kind and without any hint of hurt or mockery. “It won’t happen again. I see that you might have a point in this.”

All the fight instantly left your body, replaced by warmth of friendship, mingling with a shiver of shame for your quick judgement and outburst. You sighed, easing your posture and offering and apologetic smile in return.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a big deal of that-“

“No, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re kinda right.”

“Damn right I am,” you hummed, feeling the corners of your lips rise automatically as Sam chuckled and shook his head at your antics.

But hey – you were right. You were not sorry for that.

Still snickering to himself, Sam sidestepped you in the door and patted your shoulder.

As you continued your path as well, you would swear you heard Tony mutter under his breath that you were a Grinch.

Jerk.

“Hey! Don’t I get a kiss?” Clint called out a complaint as you met both stepped into that damn doorway at the same time.

As he pointed up, all you could do was to sigh, close your eyes and count to ten.

It had only been like four hours maybe; perhaps the word hadn’t gotten to him yet that you were not a fan of making out with random people – even if they were family – just because it was Christmas; or as Tony had put it, that you were a Grinch.

Personally, you thought that his insult had been inaccurate; you had given it a thought. Maybe you were more of a Scrooge. Perhaps you should tell him next time you saw him, just to see his face; Tony did pride in his ability to come up with witty nicknames.

You almost spitted out Bah, humbug now, just because.

“No, you don’t,” you said flatly instead, causing Clint’s jaw to quite literally drop as he looked at you with indignation and horror in his eyes.

“But--- but- mistletoe!” he stuttered and you sighed, deciding to explain it to him too – patiently.

“Why should some stupid plant tell me when someone is worth my affection? Someone who allegedly deserved it by simply standing under the same plant as me, no less? Get. Out. Not happening.”

You winced a bit as you registered the snappy tone you used.

Well. Half of the task of explaining it to him patiently went right, you’d call that a success, you supposed.

The poor archer just blinked, staring at you dumbfounded and mildly hurt; as if you had just told him that Santa Claus was nothing but a trick. Phew, as if you were that heartless…

Just-- logic. In fact, you had given this tradition a generous amount of thought since your last encounter under it and you figured out where it came from, historical inaccuracy be damned.

“I mean, where did the idea even come from? I bet it was just because some dude saw another guy mouth-to-mouth a girl, who happened to eat some of this poisonous parasite, may I add, and she was dying, so he gave her rescue breaths before continuing CPR. And the dude thought, that’s a great idea! Let’s make this a habit, just without the poisoning! Yeah, no. You’re not getting a kiss, Clinton,” you finished, satisfied with yourself as you managed to sound calmer this time.

Also, you were kinda proud of yourself for coming up with this story; it seemed very likely.

“That’s, uhm… an interesting take on history,” Clint hummed, watching you with uncertainty and hesitance and your heart stumbled in your chest as you guessed he was about to say something… cheeky, and outraging, in his cute brotherly way. “I need a hug at least tho.”

There we go.

“Nice try.”

You smirked and sidestepped him to be on your way and almost bumped into Steve, quickly shooting him a smile and disappearing out of sight before a silly idea about him and the stupid plant could form in your head – that would be bad and highly inappropriate, as was your crush on him, not to even mention your feelings—bah -!

“What did you do to her?” you heard the sweet supersoldier ask, a hint of accusation in his voice. Your smile widened, heat rising to your cheeks. Always so chivalrous; your heart could fucking melt.

“I asked for a hug after she refused to give me a kiss under a mistletoe,” Clint ratted you out, still hurt and honestly confused.

You stopped in your tracks as you rounded a corner, chewing on your lip guiltily.

Poor Clint; perhaps you had gone too hard on him… he couldn’t have known. You had to be kinder about it next time – after all, you might have been with them for almost a year now and they made you feel like you fit despite being so-so late to the Avengers party, but all of you still had things to learn about each other.

“Ah, you haven’t heard from Sam. Sorry,” Steve’s voice reached your ear, a notch kinder than before, compassionate even.

Compassion; another quality of Steve’s that you loved-

Bah, HUMBUG, that is not that, the L word is a bit much, that is not what’s happening-

“Wait, you knew- oh… Yeah, a heads-up would be nice,” Clint grumbled and made a pregnant pause, the sign of another prefect line coming. You held your breath in anticipation. “So are you gonna give me a hug or should I just get coffee, aka the hug in a cup-“

You held back laugher and swallowed the fondness for the good-natured archer before you could rush back and give him the damn hug.

“Coffee’s always a safe choice,” Steve replied and you thought you heard a chuckle and a grunt, unable to supress a giggle as you jogged away before they could notice you were still within hearing range.

Clint’s following monologue faded away as you walked.

“Nobody likes me. Nobody. I’m gonna die alone, surrounded by people who are too emotionally constipated to give a man a damn hug…”

Yeah, maybe you should give him a hug next time you saw him… no mistletoe though.

You truly believed that that would be the end of it; after all, a day had passed since the first incident, the incident that was left without a kiss, and you doubted anyone was out of the loop at this point.

That was stupid of you. Naïve even. You jinxed it.

You were just after light breakfast, ready to get a little work out in – complete with tacky remixes of Christmas songs prepared to cheer you up – when the supposedly fastest man in the Tower, and possibly the whole world, pretty much bumped into you.

And he had to bump into you just as you were walking through that fucking doorway with that fucking plant which you were supposed to put down right after the encounter with Sam, dammit.

But no, you didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s fun; in fact, Clint had taken it his personal mission to meet as many people as he could under the mistletoe to get a kiss… or a hug. Wanda hapilly shared affection with others, either kissing their cheek of hugging them. People were having fun.

So, obviously, you let it be, confident everyone knew better than to corner you.

No good deed ever went unpunished, especially in the Holiday season.

Pietro grinned as he spotted you, downright delighted, and spread his arms almost as if creating a cage around you, leaving very little room to escape.

You did not like that.

“A kiss for a guy who caught you under a mistletoe?” he hummed warmly with a sprinkle of cheek and despite his cheery demeanour, you couldn’t help yourself and rolled your eyes.

“In your dreams, Maximoff,” you huffed, trying to duck under his arm, only for him to move it so quickly it was only a blur to you.

Quick to move, slow to take a hint. Yep, that kind of behaviour had Pietro written all over it… Okay, now you were being mean, but he was being an ass, grinning wider and adding a wink to the mix, so it was only fair.

“How did you know? I thought it was just my sister who was telepathic?”

“Pietro, leave her alone,” Wanda spoke as if on cue, eyeing her brother with a frown from her spot behind the counter where she was trying to figure out a recipe for a special Christmas pastry from her old country.

A hint of a pout appeared on Pietro’s lips as he reciprocated Wanda’s gaze; unfortunately for you, he was still aware enough of you attempting to escape his cage, so far without using force; though you were inclined to violence should it be necessary.

“What?! It’s tradition! I thought Americans loved that!”

“Well, not all of us, so-“ you explained with a sigh, catching a glimpse of Steve as he now looked up from his spot on the couch where he had been nestled with a sketchbook for the past twenty minutes.

“I could kiss you before you even notice,” Pietro argued smugly, his expression earning a wolf-like edge as you glared back at him.

Well, it seemed your workout was just about to start, you thought, as you balled your hand into a fist, subtly testing the readiness of the muscles of your leg, prepared to kick the damn man-child to his shin or worse.

“She said no.”

Both your and Pietro’s heads snapped to Steve, who was watching the other man with intense displeasure, all complete with the mildly adorable wrinkle on his forehead – a sign of disappointment and irritation – and a voice that carried the gravity of a Captain’s order.

Which in this situation stirred something in your belly, warmth swelling in your chest as he rushed to your rescue; one not needed, but still appreciated. You didn’t react to Steve’s words aside from giving him a quick grateful smile and shooting Pietro a childish told-you-so look.

“She doesn’t have to do things just because it’s considered a tradition. Leave her be, Pietro,” Steve added, less snappy and simply requesting from the speedster to have a tiny bit of respect for your wishes.

Pietro was most definitely pouting now, but he dropped his arms and released you, still blocking the doorway.

“This is ridiculous,” Pietro muttered under his breath, only for you to hear and you gritted your teeth, irritation spiking again.

“You are being ridiculous. Now move or I swear I’ll slap you.”

“I’d like to see you try, Eagle.”

Oh, we’re doing nicknames now? He could use your title earned by being fast and occasionally deadly all he wanted, flattery would get him nowhere at this point.

“Wouldn’t even see it coming, Speedyboy,” you challenged, chin raised in defiance.

It was ironic, really, how much everyone seemed to insist on following this stupid tradition, even with you. At this point, it was practically everyone but Steve; everyone but the one person you’d be willing to kiss – mistletoe or not, though the plant would at least give you an excuse.

But nope, you just had to get stuck in the doorway with this moron instead.

“Ooookay, you two,” Natasha sing-sang, as she was approaching you from the corridor; you completely missed her arriving, that was how much Pietro irritated you. “Maximoff, move, you’re blocking the doorway. And if you corner her like this again, I’ll kill you in your sleep and you’ll never see that coming,” she promised, voice icily serious despite the twinkle in her eye.

You had no doubt she would deliver just what she promised.

Which was exactly why you leaned over to kiss her cheek, earning a brilliant smile from her and a light brush of her lips against your own cheek.

“Thanks, kotenok,” she hummed just as Pietro gaped and complained.

“That’s so unfair.”

You smirked at him, throwing the smugness he had treated you with right back at him as you went to walk away.

“I give affection to whoever I want and whenever I want. Let your super quick brain process that. Happy Holidays.”

You completely missed the slow smile that spread on Wanda’s face at one point of the whole exchange.

You decided to stop walking through that damn doorway altogether – just in case.

But at the moment, no one was around, so you made an exception since you considered yourself safe. Though main part of the feeling of security was that you didn’t think there was anyone left of the Tower tenants (who didn’t pay rent at all, somehow) who wasn’t aware of your opinion on the dumb tradition. No one who would be stupid enough to try.

Yet, when you glimpsed a large figure about to walk through the doorway just as you were few feet from it, you halted in your steps, letting them pass first.

And then there was a gust of wind, a warning coming a second too late and a harsh push to your shoulder from behind.

“Running through!”

You, the newest addition to the Earth’s mightiest heroes, Eagle, known for her quick reactions and not losing her cool easily, only managed to yelp in fright as you were knocked over, unable to hold onto anything and falling straight to the ground.

Two strong hands caught you and pulled you back up before you could hit the floor and you gasped, head spinning from the swift movements-- only to blink your eyes open to meet the prettiest pair of eyes you had ever seen; determined, kind, compassionate, loveable. And so damn blue despite the drop of green in their irises.

Your heart was trying to beat its way out of your ribcage as Steve instinctively pressed his chest against yours, holding you close and secure, grasp firm but careful.

Your gaze couldn’t but wander all over his face as you found yourself in such close quarters with him, his own eyes and his lips – gosh, those lips – working as magnets, always alluring your gaze to linger.

“You okay?”

Mesmerized, you watched those lips to move, barely comprehending what he was asking. His voice was warm; honey sweet and rich in spice, delicious, causing your stomach to flip pleasantly, your heart stammer.

It might have taken you a while to stutter out a reply, but no one ever needed to know about that.

“Uhm… yeah. Thanks-- thanks to you… thank you.”

Steve graced you with a small but no less meaningful smile. “Of course.”

Torturously slowly – as if he didn’t want to let you go any more than you wanted him to – he helped you stand straight and let go of your arms.

The moment you lost his touch, you lost your sanity too. You must have.

Before you could change your mind – or to think anything through – you leaned back to him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. And perhaps on instinct, you kinda aimed more for the corner of his mouth than the cheek.

He felt warm now too – the tips of his ears turned red in an instant and you, with horror, finally realized what you had done; and just how good it felt to finally show at least a little of what you had been trying to ignore and hide for so long.

Despite his apparent surprise and mild embarrassment, his smile widened a fraction, turning pleased.

“What was that for?” he asked lowly, gaze intense as he studied your face, a hint of a glow in his eyes, something brighter than hadn’t been there before. Hope, maybe?

You certainly hoped. Because you just made an ass of yourself, having acted without thought… and it never felt so good and so awkward at the same time.

Your brain had never been so quick and dumb to come up with a poor excuse either.

“We’re…. we’re under a mistletoe?” you offered reluctantly, your lips still burning after the brief contact with his, head once again nearly spinning due to the proximity – was it just the dizziness or was he leaning in closer?

“I thought you didn’t follow that tradition,” Steve hummed with a grin slowly spreading on his face and through the fog of lovesickness, it finally dawned to you.

You had done exactly what you scolded Sam, Clint and Pietro for – you just went and kissed Steve, no questions asked, no consideration of his possible discomfort.

God, you were such an idiot!

See, that’s why you have banned yourself for as much as imagining kissing Steve and meeting him under the mistletoe! Because when your brain went down that road, it stopped working altogether!

You swiftly retreated a few inches, horrified.

“I—I don’t. I mean. I-- I-I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, words spilling from your lips as the panic rose in your chest. And yet, there was warmth, a pleasant feeling coiling in your belly, breaths coming out short as Steve seemed to erase the distance you had created, his gaze studying you, landing on your mouth. “I shouldn’t have done that! What was I thinking—gosh, I didn’t want to make you-“

You stopped as Steve’s lips kept erasing the distance and ended up a breath from touching yours, tempting, his eyes shining bright with a simple unspoken question. You instinctively licked your lips, heart stumbling in your ribcage.

“---uncomfortable. Yes, please-“

And then he was kissing you, a little smile playing on his lips as they danced with yours, sweet and soft, hand moving to your nape, thumb caressing the side crook of your neck, drawing a content sigh from you as your eyes fluttered shut, letting you sink into the kiss you had been craving for almost a year.

Your hands sought out his shoulders as he cradled your face, gentle and guiding so he could take more and all you wanted was to give it to him, give him everything he asked for and take it from him too.

Your toes definitely curled in the thick fluffy socks you wore when his fingers squeezed your nape briefly before he withdrew – as if he once again didn’t want to let go for something so boring as oxygen. You wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment, dizzy from the blissful turn of events.

As you inhaled nevertheless, you were grateful that Steve stayed close enough for you to breathe in him, relieved and delighted smile on your face as you licked your lips, savouring the sensation.

When you met his gaze, you saw nothing but fondness; and your heart could melt.

Steve liked you too. Steve kissed you like he meant it. Now you could die a happy woman but you rather not. You’d rather kiss him again if he was willing.

“Still sorry I did it without asking first,” you whispered an apology even though you were not sorry at all since it led to this.

“It’s okay. I just hope it wasn’t just the tradition that pushed you into kissing back.”

You chuckled and then chewed on your lower lip when thinking of a propriate retort, not missing that his eyes followed the action. Oh, he definitely liked to back, okay. Why had you never kissed before, again?

“I only give affection to whoever I want, whenever I want,” you threw back at him, the words that had a whole new meaning in contrast to when being told to Pietro; not a turn-down, quite the opposite in fact.

And you leaned in, greedy for at least one more kiss, Steve just watched you with a smile, eyes flickering to your lips.

“That’s good to know.”

He didn’t sound like he complained at being at the receiving end of your affection whatsoever.

Maybe, mistletoe wasn’t so stupid after all…

Three rooms over, the red-haired witch was smiling widely as she, thanks to her mental powers, caught a glimpse of what was happening in the kitchen doorway.

“It worked,” she announced, blinking to fully return herself to the present. “Nice work this time, brat moy.”

Pietro scowled at Wanda and couldn’t but wonder about the plan she had orchestrated and asked him to execute.

“How did you know, sestra?”

Wanda just shrugged.

“I had my suspicions before. But when you ran into her the last time, I checked her mind to see just how uncomfortable you made her,” she explained, giving one more scolding glare for his inappropriate behaviour. But well, it led to this and he helped now, so… he was good. “She literally thought she wouldn’t mind being under the mistletoe with the Captain.”

“Lucky bastard,” Pietro muttered, expression only half-sour.

“Shush. Be happy for your teammates. You just flirt anyway.”

The speedster pouted, but didn’t protest; he in fact was happy for the two members of the extended family him and his sister had found. And he indeed was only flirting, enjoying your reactions, talking back and teasing. It was all good fun and he did wish you and the Captain well…

But.

“Well, yeah, but now I won’t be able to do that or to look at her twice. Not without Captain having my head,” he grumbled and Wanda nodded with a grin, not feeling all that bad for him.

It wasn’t like he had his heart broken – more like had his ego tickled; and he had been needing some of that for a while.

“That’s true. Looks like you gotta be faster with the next girl you get your eye on, brat.”

The speedster gasped, shocked at her audacity. “I’ll show you fast-!”

Wanda laughed as she used her powers to freeze him on spot to get a head start.

Now, the Holidays felt truly happy indeed.

S.R. Masterlist

Thank you for reading!

If this fic feels like it’s written differently, then I guess that’s fair… I tried to make the style more drabble-like and failed epically, because I just cannot write short and without too many feelings :D

Anyway.

Happy Holidays to you all! May you be given love and affection!

221 notes · View notes

the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 4 years ago

Text

Hc inverse au! Fem Reader in Victorian era England and ynm characters are in our time.

You are a character in an anime and ynm are in real life

Williams

( he seems like the type to be into really dense, historical mangas)

He first read a manga featuring you when one of his students left their copy on their desk and he had to overview some students while they were using the presentation room.

He mostly just sat in the first row while the group of teens were recording hamlet for the theater class.

He didn't really took the story seriously so he started reading a lady who was trying to seduce a noble for a few pages, he was about to leave the manga given that he supposed it was a hentai but when you poisoned them with the wine cup he found it interesting

The main character had a set of very strong ideals that weren't so common in the historical context, be it strip nobles and royals from benefits, be a suffragette, or something similar .He ate the manga in five minutes

When he returns home (and leaves the item in lost objects, ofc) he checks online to buy the first volume to see if the background and sort are interesting along with every other volume and official light novel and Novella . He usually isn't home from very early to very late at night so it would be Louis most likely the one who receives the box with the books

"Brother, did you buy a box full of comics" Louis asks from the kitchen after he feels his older brother returning home

" oh? They already arrived? I thought they would be here next week" well Louis always was worries about how his brother didn't have any hobbies aside from teaching at the University so he was happy that he found something else to do with his life

He would ask for a sick day on a Monday or Friday so he could plan everything that was needed at his class that day and spend the weekend lazing around and reading the various volumes and the light novels. That day Louis and albert almost cried of happiness, that was the first time he took a sick day in all of his teaching years to take a break

The type of fan who creates theories that everything is symbolism, how they are ambidextrous to show that even if they intend good sometimes their methods are too extreme or how their hat was placed or the color of their clothes show their political affiliation. Nothing can be just a coincidence with him, everything means something

Is a big pain in the ass about historical inaccuracies, be it dress, manners or social hierarchy being off

" But listen this is the late Victorian era, where is their crinoline??/ They are supposed to be a Victorian dandy and the writer wants me to believe they would wear that? In that society?" williams turned on the lights to his younger brother room while walking in circles as if he was trying to calm down

" Williams it's 3 am. Please I want to sleep"

" Oh and don't let me get started when they crossdressed/dressed as lady northinburg, that tight lacing scene made me so angry" he was dragging his words, Louis guessed he was sleep drunk " how much I hate that, karolina or bernadette would kill those producers if they saw it" Louis simply opted to sleep while his brother was ranting about how the hairstyles were al wrong

When speaking of merchandising he appreciates his mature and elegant reputation so he would buy small things like cute stationery and notebooks and a few pens. Most of them either are about the main character, you, or have the anime title or something similar

A few students think that the professor brings some childish pens in case some student forgets one and he doesn't have to give them his mechanical pencil. He actually uses those pens when he is grading the exams. His notebook annotations look a lot cleaner and are more colorfully bc of the markers and pens

When and if your manga gets and anime he would be 100 percent bitching about how they skipped, if you are a minor character, scenes where you are introduced or you character gets development.

" Oh my goodness, they skipped to this ark? And 'the mask'? In that ark we get the development of many characters, yn, edward, Amélie, Alex. We are absolutely robed of their backgrounds and aspirations and how they are all connected"

" Brother be honest with yourself, you only wanted more animated yn, you follow their voice actor on twitter"

" That is not my point!"

Albert

he was watching it when he came late

Albert usually keeps company to his youngest brother until around 5-6 pm, then he leaves for work and returns around 12 am and eats dinner alone mostly.

When he returns from his job the house is more often than not totally dark so he makes his way to the kitchen and microwaves the leftovers and eats silently.

But one day it seems like Louis or williams forgot to turn off the TV before going to bed, he was about to turn it off but decided that watching something with the tv muted wouldn't wake his brothers up and kept watching.

He didn't pay much attention to it at the start but it became routine, he comes home, heats the food, sits down and watches that show so he grew quite fond of it

How much attention he pays to it depends on the type of plot it has, if it is light-hearted humor he would most likely not pay much attention but laugh when a joke came, one the other hand, if it's a more serious he would find it hard to take his eyes away from the screen

Second least likely to buy merchandising, if he buys it's mostly to wear home, a one size too big shirt for a pj (mostly for the comedy anime) or, if they aren't childish and look professional maybe a pocket watch like the one x character uses ( in the more serious one)

Won't buy the mangas if there are any because he is happy watching the animated version and already has to read a lot at work, but if he is gifted the volumes he will read them sparingly, maybe he will finish one volume every week and a half, unlike williams.

Louis

He spends most of his time home because of his illness and doesn't like to stress too much given that it makes the symptoms worse, he enjoys light hearted comedies or cooking in the victorian era or those typical time travelers who now have to live in different situations than those they are used to

He most likely found it after doing all the housework and being bored so he opted to browse the TV or netflix and fell on one specific serie

If it is a comedy he will listen to it while cleaning or cooking, he feels like he does everything faster and the housework is more enjoyable that way.

If it's a cooking related program he will watch as entertainment after doing everything and to get ideas what to cook, he is always surprised with the recipes that your character comes up with, be them savory ( things he will absolutely do the next day for lunch or dinner) or sweet ( things he will make more sparingly given he can't have too much sugar). I think of mangas and series like the duchess' 50 te recipes or shokugeki no soma

If it the third option he was interested on the alternatives to modern things, like how to make a more natural soap with animal fat and wood ash, or how to use certain plants to help a headache or stomach bug.

With merchandising he doesn't buy much, some kitchenware and some bowls mugs and maybe a tea set that isn't much of an eyesore. Overall he isn't all that crazy over that kind of things if there is a cooking book he will definitely buy it

He, like albert, doesn't care much about historical accuracy and if the events that happen are cohesive, he is there to have fun

Fred

He watched it because he heard his classmates talk about it and wanted to join them but was too scared to bother them if he didn't know anything. Baby has the social abilities of an anxious lobster

He comes home from college and looks the anime up in his phone and, like every broke college student, he watches it from an illegal streaming service.

He gets hooked up and stays all night watching it until his clock snaps him out of his trance and makes him drag his feet to his 7:30 am class

Fred tries and fails to talk to the group so, after the lesson, he drags himself to his room to be miserable alone. It's not until he reaches a certain chapter or episode where you say something that make him think, " if you wish to be loved you must face first your fear to be known" he keeps thinking about it, he didn't truly ever talk to the group, he cowarded before even trying.

The next week at that same lecture he approaches the group and tries to make some small talk

" Oh hey uhm i heard the past class that you liked (maga name)" he was this close to running to his desk and act as if nothing happened

" Yeah! You like it too?" The boy seemed to notice fred was nervous

" Yes! I really like it, what is you favorite character? Mine is yn" he certainly didn't have any favorite one before but after this he thinks your character is pretty good " they are really inspiring"

In terms of merch he is broke so there is none, If he had any money to spare he would buy notebooks and even those chibi statues or funko pops

#yuumori #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty #professor moriarty #moriarty the patriot #mtp #ynm #gn reader #william moriarty #williams james moriarty x reader #louis moriarty

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sound-of-the-cosmos · 4 years ago

Text

Demon Slayer; Tanjiro x Reader: “You don’t leave the one you love when they need you the most.”

Genre: Heavy angst!!

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Demon Slayer)

Paring: Kamado Tanjiro x Reader

Summary: After Tanjiro asks you to accompany him on a mission, you accept and travel with him. Once arriving at the Red Light District, you both come into contact with an upper moon named Daki- and you run into the people you never thought you’d see again.

Warnings: Major historical inaccuracies (the demon’s name, personality and appearance are from the manga- everything else is purely fictional), violence, blood, PTSD, mentions/implications of rape

Word count: 2.2k

“Get away from them before I break every bone in your body!” “It’s alright; I’m right here, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”

Third Person P.O.V

Originally, the mission was meant to be his, with only a Hashira with him. However, once coming to the realization that all of them were gone on their own missions, a sense of dread began to fill his senses. Would he have to ask Inosuke, or Zenitsu? They were currently on their own mission, so that wouldn’t work..

He let out a sigh, thinking over his options on the roof of the Butterfly Manor. A soft tap of the ceramic tiles alerted his mind, while your scent had already flooded his senses.

For some reason, you always smelled of Lavender and Rain. It was a clean, pleasant scent, but the connotations always concerned Tanjiro. You sit gingerly beside him, your haori fluttering ever so lightly in the wind. Odd how at dusk, the light seemed to highlight his eyes and features so gently.

“Something wrong?” Your voice was always soft and silvery, now being no exception. Your gentle e/c eyes gazed into his, and he smiles a little, grateful for the company.

“I have a mission I have to leave for soon, but I don’t have anyone to accompany me. The Flame Hashira was supposed to meet me here, but I was told he left 3 days ago for another mission.” As per usual, his voice was modulated and kind. He glanced your way, before returning his gaze to the skies.

“I currently don’t have any; I may not be as strong as a Hashira, but I can accompany you, if you’d like,” A gentle smile danced across your lips, and Tanjiro’s cheeks felt heated, his gaze and expression mirroring your own.

“Yeah- that would be great!” With a nod, you stand and walked down the side of the roof, taking a step off the edge. A startled noise escaped his lips, before you laughed softly, staring up in bemusement. “We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn, then?” He questioned, and you hummed.

“Tomorrow at dawn.”

__________________________________________________

~Slight time skip to morning~

__________________________________________________

A crow cawed in the window, speaking in its usual shrill tones. “Today’s mission is in the Red Light District! Deaths in the Kyogoku House have been reported! The owner is missing! Head North at once!”

Groaning, you sat up and rubbed your eyes, glancing at the spot where the crow had once been. You throw your legs over the side of the bed, before getting freshened up. After changing into your (freshly cleaned) uniform, you find your dragon haori folded neatly on a chair.

A ghost of a smile flashed across your face as you shrug it over your shoulders. As you pick up your Nichirin sword, the familiar coolness of the hilt eased your troubled mind. Adjusting it so you can walk with it attached to your hip, your hand raised to open the sliding door.

However, moments before you can, another hand beats you to it. Tanjiro’s eyes meet your own, and the gentle pink dusts over his cheeks once more. He stepped back, raising his hands as a type of surrender. “I wasn’t going to do anything- I just wanted to make sure you were awake with the crow and all-”

Then, you did something that surprised him. You laughed.

“Ah- Tanjiro, it’s alright, I woke up when I heard it. Thank you for deciding to check on me though,” You flashed him a quick smile, noticing that once again, he had the wooden box attached to his back. While you sensed there was a demon inside, he would’ve told you if it was something to worry about.

His expression melted a little, smiling along with you, though he made a mental note to ask you as to why that yours disappeared so quickly.

As the two of you waved goodbye to the people from the house, sunlight finally streamed through the trees and illuminated the path ahead. Tanjiro cast a grin your way, but you didn’t respond, instead looking into the trees the opposite way. He frowned a little, confused, before humming. “What do you make of the mission?”

You swallow a small lump in your throat. The Red Light district was known for housing brothels, and that made your stomach churn. “I think we need to keep our senses sharp. I have a really, really bad feeling about this.” He nodded slightly, before sniffing a little. The smell of sage was radiating around you, which he supposed was understandable.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” you began, and his body tensed. He knew the question coming, “Why do you carry a demon with you? Is it family?” He and the box had a similar aura, a gentle teal mixed with blues or purple tones. Nervously sweating, he opens his mouth to try to deflect, but you stop him. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s alright too. I trust your judgement.”

You stopped a few paces in front of him, the District not far from your sight. Your blood ran cold before he responded. “It’s my sister.” He finally spoke, and you nodded lightly, crossing your arms across your chest. He smiled a little, unbeknownst to you. A gentle scent of sandalwood mixed with the sage.

Placing a hand on the hilt of your sword, you began to walk once more. “I want to get this over with- not because I dislike you, but I don’t like this place. Something isn’t right.” He nodded, taking in a small breath.

“I know what you mean. Something doesn’t smell right here- there’s a lot more fear than there should be.” The scent of ash filled the air, and his senses were on high alert. You pull your haori just a little further over your shoulders- while the uniform Demon Slayers were given was fully covering, there was still a sense of nudity that had you unnerved.

The house in question stood in front of you, lights flashing and the sliding door open. A beautiful woman with dark hair stood in the entryway, greeting the both of you as you enter. “Welcome to the Kyogoku House. Who is your appointment scheduled with?” Her aura wasn’t right, you noted. Sickly green, with dark purple tendrils here and there. What was she? Who was she?

“We don’t have an appointment. I was wondering if you could tell us who the woman was that disappeared from here?” Your voice was somewhat friendly, but you didn’t miss the flash of understanding in her eyes. They looked like pools of honey..

“Ah, yes- the last owner of the establishment didn’t go missing. Instead, she committed suicide, jumping off the roof of this place. I tried to stop her, but,” She sighed, shaking her head, “I didn’t reach her in time.” There was a forced tremor in her voice, and by that alone you could tell she was lying. But you couldn’t call her out quite yet.

“Is there anyone else we could talk to, to try and understand what happened?” Tanjiro questioned, and from his voice, you could tell he believed her. Then again, you had met more than your fair share of manipulative people. Tanjiro could smell the sage stronger now, mixed with the rain.

“You could talk to Himari- though she’s with a client as of right now.” That snake-like smirk didn’t miss your gaze. You swallowed the bitter words you were dying to say, and asked a question you knew you would hate yourself for.

“Would you mind showing us around while we wait?”

As you would expect, the brothel was as filthy as you thought it would be. Your gut screamed to leave, but there you sat, drinking tea with the woman and Tanjiro. His gaze fell on you every so often- how your hair framed your face, how your voice was so soft and gentle- everything about you entranced him. The scent of Sage and Rain were still present, and stronger than ever.

You raised slowly, bowing as respectfully as you could to the lady in front of you. “Excuse me, but would you mind directing me to your washroom?” It was a lie simply so you could look around on your own, but she didn’t seem to catch that.

With a nod, her dainty hand raised to point to your right. “Down that hallway, down the stairs and the 4th door to your left.” Oddly specific. You bowed once again, turning around and leaving the room. You follow her instructions to the floor she directed, before opening the first door.

A storage closet, with cleaning supplies and extra uniforms meets your gaze. A soft sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you close it. You continue to do this up until the 4th door on the left- the room she’d instructed you to go to.

Your heart pounded in your chest, like a wild animal trying to escape it’s confines. You slowly open the door, and 3 men pounce on you, slapping their hand over your mouth before you can cry out. “She didn’t lie, this one is pretty. This the one with the rape fantasy, right?” Your eyes widened, and they grinned wickedly.

A rush of wind behind you is the only warning you receive before you’re out cold.

Everything hurt.

Your head pounds, and you feel nauseous. A slap across your face wakes you up, and you find yourself tied to a chair, nude, and...

“No...” you managed to whimper, shaking violently. Not only was this the same thing, but these men- they were the same as all those years ago. You thought you’d become strong enough that you wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.

“When Daki told us she had demon slayers comin’, we never thought you’d be one of them. Guess that’s lucky for us then, eh?” The largest one laughed, grabbing your hair and forcing your gaze up. Your whole body shook violently, your mind trying to force itself to shut down.

“Screw you,” you spat, your voice trembling too much for it to be taken seriously. A harsh punch to your stomach sent the chair backwards, and you land on your back, the wind knocked out of your lungs.

Their dirty hands all over you, defiling you, touching you, grabbing at you-

“What was that, sweetheart?”

Not again. Not again. Not again- A loud thud and muffled screaming of a woman echoed from upstairs, not that it mattered to you. Your scream joined hers as a knife entered your shoulder, tears streaming down your face. “You like that, eh?” He licked the wound, grinning like a madman. As his hand reached towards your most intimate region, the door slammed open, Tanjiro standing there looking as livid as ever.

“Get away from them before I break every bone in your body!” His sword still bloodied from what could only be presumed to be a demon, the men laughed, cracking their knuckles. Their hands morphed into claws, and the man- demon?- beside you growled angrily at him. Within mere moments, each of their heads lie on the floor as they disintegrated.

Tanjiro was instantly beside you, untying you and wrapping his haori around you. The room smelled of sage and rain, with only a few traces of demon blood making their way through it. Simply by your scent, his heart broke as he tried to help you calm down. You couldn’t breath, you couldn’t think-

Your fear and sorrow filled the room with a scent so strong Tanjiro found himself fighting tears. He wrapped his arms around you slowly, and you clung to him, burying your face into his shoulder.

“It’s alright; I’m right here, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”

__________________________________________________

~Slight time skip to when they arrive at the Wisteria estate~

__________________________________________________

You were in a daze, and unresponsive. Tanjiro felt fear pulse through his veins as he sits your fragile form onto a chair in a bathroom to get you cleaned up. Once you were clean, he helped you change into nightwear, your being too dazed to respond. It was as if you were dead to the world.

After taking you to your own separate room, he guided you to the bed and sat beside you, taking in a shaky breath. “If you need anything, come and get me, alright?” He tried to smile, but your expression remained blank. He stood up, turning out the lights and leaving the room.

That night, and the next week, Tanjiro didn’t sleep well. You were unresponsive, not matter how hard he tried to make you laugh, no matter how hard he tried to make you smile, to make you speak- nothing.

As the usual had become, he guided you to your room, telling you that you could come and get him if you needed him, and shutting the door after. This time, however, Tanjiro sat outside the door, and placed his head in his hands. “I should’ve told her.. I should’ve been there with her.. I should’ve-” He choked on his words, and the tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

He wasn’t sure how long it would take to help you heal- but he wanted to be there as best as he could be.

You don’t leave the one you love when they need you the most.

#demon slayer #kamado tanjirō #tanjiro #Nezuko #kamado tanjiro x reader #x reader #x reader angst #angst

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ssinnerplazahotel · 2 months ago

Text

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Thirteen*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 6k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, death threat, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

You woke with a start the next morning—not even realizing that you’d fallen asleep at some point throughout the night. You checked the time—Liz would be there by now.

“You’re awake,” Andrea said, appearing from the bathroom. “I thought I’d let you sleep. Since you never do.”

“I’m supposed to be dressed by now,” You said. “Liz is probably waiting for me.”

“You aren’t scheduled to be anywhere, are you?”

“No, why?”

“Why don’t you skip Liz today? I can give you something to wear.”

You didn’t even consider it. “I can’t.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

“Because…” You knew it’d only piss her off to know the reason. “I like the clothes Liz chooses.”

She shrugged. “You should head over then. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because, he might not yell at me if you’re there.”

She rolled her eyes, but agreed to go. “He can yell. I want him to actually. Because if I have to deal with him~”

“You won’t have to. I don’t want you to fight him all the time, Andrea.”

“I do it because you won’t.”

“I know, but I can’t protect you. So I’d like it if you didn’t give me a reason to.”

“Do you think I need you to protect me?”

“No, of course not. Just don’t pick a fight.”

When you got to the bedroom Elvis was there with Liz and Serena. Aside from a brief glance, he didn’t acknowledge you when you walked in. You could always tell when he was on the brink of losing his shit.

“I’m so sorry, Liz,” You said immediately. “I had no idea what time it was.”

“It’s okay,” She said. “We already got everything ready for you.”

“This is gorgeous,” Andrea complimented as she looked at the dress laid out on the bed. “With the headband especially.”

“Oh, I wanted to let you know that the things you sent to the cleaners won’t be back until Monday,” Serena started as Andrea and Liz talked about your outfit. Liz spoke to Andrea more comfortably, you noticed. “I tried to get it back sooner but it’s been so busy because of the holidays.”

“It’s okay,” You reassured her. “I won’t even miss them.”

“Where’d you find the shoes?”

“Uhm, they were actually a wedding gift~”

Elvis stood from the edge of the bed suddenly, effectively ending every conversation happening in the room. “Liz, go show Andrea that thing you wanted to show her. You too, Serena.”

You met Andrea’s eyes—she gave you a look that said she’d stay if you wanted. You shook your head.

“Go ahead,” Elvis encouraged, walking over to open the door. “Shouldn’t take but five minutes. Come back when you’re done.”

Liz nodded and led the way out of the room, Serena following silently behind. Andrea stayed in place, crossing her arms with her eyes set on Elvis. You tried to motion for her to go but she wouldn’t look out at you.

“Andrea,” Elvis sighed.

He was too close to his breaking point and you didn’t want Andrea to be the recipient of his rage.

“Drea, it’s fine.” You stepped forward.

“I’m not leaving her alone with you,” She said directly to Elvis. “Can’t you see that she’s afraid of you?”

“N-No, no,” You said quickly, stepping between them. “Please don’t~”

Elvis snapped. “I’m so fucking sick of you acting like you know her any better than I do~”

“I wouldn’t have to know her at all to see that she’s terrified of you,” Andrea said with an equal amount of anger and distaste behind her words as she stepped towards him. “You’re a control freak.”

“If she’s so terrified, she can leave and take you with her.”

“As if you’d ever let her go.”

“She wouldn’t, Andrea, that’s the thing~”

“Do you see what I mean? You’re a fanatic.”

“You wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t hunt you down for weeks, that’s the kind of friend you are.”

“At least I treat her like a fully functioning adult. The way you run her, I can’t tell if you want a wife or pet.”

“What did your ex-husband want? It wasn’t you—that’s what we all know.”

“You trap one little girl and you think you know how to get and keep a woman?”

“I don’t have to trap anyone, she can fucking leave!”

You were frozen as their screaming match intensified with every dig. Elvis stepped forward until your hands pressed against his chest and the two of them were face to face. You had to force yourself to speak.

“Stop,” You said, too breathlessly and quiet at first. You had to shout over them. “Stop it!”

They fell silent and looked at you, both fuming as you stopped them from taking things too far.

“You’re gonna let her talk to me like that?” Elvis asked, forcing you into a position you never wanted to be in.

“Andrea,” You said, walking to the door. “Can you, please…?”

She heaved a sigh and walked out of the door but stopped short and gave you one last questioning glance. You nodded reassuringly despite the fact that you were so on edge that you could have thrown up.

You shut the door behind her and faced him, he had his arms crossed. You expected him to immediately snap and dig into you, but instead he asked—

“What the hell are you wearing?”

You looked down at the pajama pants and mismatched shirt you had fallen asleep in.

“Andrea gave them to me…”

His expression was furious but you could somehow still see the traces of a distasteful frown. He eyed you silently, watching you squirm in anticipation.

“You look fucking ridiculous.”

He could’ve thrown you across the room and it would’ve hurt less—been less humiliating.

He looked away as if he couldn’t stand the sight of you. “Get dressed before Liz gets back.”

You stood there for a moment before walking over to the dress laid out on the bed. You picked it up to take to the bathroom but he stopped you.

“We’re not done yet.”

You felt ashamed and embarrassed of yourself—you wanted to disappear as he watched you strip.

“Where the hell did you go last night?” He continued. “I sent Red all around the world lookin for you and he said you weren’t with Andrea.”

“I was with Andrea~”

“Do not lie to me right now~”

“I swear.”

“Then why weren’t you there?”

“I was, s-she…lied. I-I don’t know why. It was a joke. I told her~ I said that it wasn’t funny.”

“But you didn’t come to me when I asked you to?”

“I-I just…”

“You just…let her make up your mind for you like a little girl? You just go along with whatever she says? Because you just…can’t make your own decisions?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Tell me what it is. I mean, you act just about dumb as hell when it comes to Andrea, it has to be something.”

“What is your problem?” You didn’t wait for him to answer as you stormed into the bathroom to finish putting your clothes on.

“My problem is that I at least expected you to be in place this morning. Instead you come galavanting in here with Andrea like you didn’t disappear all night.” He followed you.

“I don’t understand why you’re blowing this so out of proportion.”

“Because you need to be reminded of your place. It’s here, with me, when I tell you to be.”

“Go to hell, Elvis.”

“Hey,” He barked, fuming as he caught your arm and made you face him. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“And you don’t get to treat me like some useless accessory you get to stick your dick in whenever you want to.” You snatched your arm away. “I mean, for the love of god. Calling me dumb and demanding my respect?”

“Do not talk to me like that.” His stern eyes bore into you even after you looked away. “You will lose, every time, I promise.”

There was a knock on the door—it was Liz.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” Elvis said before going to get the door. You tried to put on a neutral expression as Liz and Serena entered the room. “She’s all ready for you.”

You smiled—it was forced but you didn’t think they noticed. He returned when your transformation was complete.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Mr. Presley?” Serena, who had also just returned after slipping out somewhere along the way, asked as Liz finished your hair.

Elvis slipped his arm around Serena’s shoulder and kissed her cheek before continuing. You usually wouldn’t think much of it—but seeing how her hand lingered on his, you couldn’t help but wonder. After the thought crossed your mind it was all you could think about. After they had left the room you couldn’t help yourself, you had to know.

“You’re fucking Serena.”

He fell silent, you were shocked by how stunned he seemed by your knowledge of his situation with your “assistant”—or whatever title he’d given her. His reaction stirred something inside of you. You were angry, and hurt, but you were right. For once, you were right and he couldn’t even process your words fast enough to deny it.

“What?” You asked. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Shut up.” His voice was low and unnerving, but you continued.

“People notice you, Elvis. They watch every little thing you do. When are you going to realize that?”

“I’m telling you right now, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised, you’ve always been that way. You’re a liar and you’re a cheater~”

“Shut up!” He was yelling now but his voice was muffled by the sound of your heart beating in your ears. “Do you really think you have any right to question me or anything I do? After everything I’ve done for you?”

“I never asked for any of this, Elvis. I’m here for you!”

“This is me,” He shouted, gesturing grandly with his arms. With each step he took forward, you stepped back until the back of your legs touched the bed—forcing you to sit as he towered over you. “To hear you so much as utter a complaint after everything I’ve risked for us, everything I’m sacrificing—it’s fucking ludicrous.”

You fell silent for a moment, too frightened to speak. “You said that it would be different this time—no more bullshit, remember? No more fighting, that’s what you said out of your mouth~”

“Whose fault is it that we’re fighting, huh?”

You kept your eyes trained on him but you didn’t speak—you only glared silently.

“You have two options,” He said. “You can either get your shit together, go downstairs with Andrea, and keep your mouth shut so we can enjoy the party. Or you can stay here, out of my sight, for the rest of the night. Pick one. Now or I’ll decide for you.”

You stood and forced past him to the bathroom. You made sure your makeup wasn’t ruined before leaving. As you made to walk past him and out of the door he grabbed your arm, forcing your hand into his.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of my family, they already think I’m insane,” He said, and then you were leaving. The commotion from downstairs could be heard clear as day from the top of the stairs. “You just stick with Andrea tonight. No one here’s gonna bother you, I told them not to.”

You kept your lips pressed firmly together as you met Andrea at the bottom of the stairs. All eyes were on the two of you when you entered the room—you hoped the forced smile on your face was fooling the crowd.

Andrea didn’t acknowledge Elvis but she forced a smile all the same. “Are you okay?”

“Keep an eye on her,” He said, handing you off. “She’s in a mood.”

You forced yourself not to pull away when he kissed your cheek—smiling as he tapped your chin and walked away.

“What’s wrong?” Andrea asked when he was gone. “What’d he do?”

“Did they give them to you?”

“Yeah.”

You took the envelope and turned to go into the kitchen. Andrea followed, keeping as little space between you as possible in the crowded house. You saw Elvis, the center of attention as always, being surrounded by people. They were mostly women, and you wanted to feel something when you saw the way they pawed at him and hung off his every word.

But you felt nothing.

You tried to stay in the least populated areas of the house but everywhere you went there was someone.

“I love your scarf,” A woman with long false lashes said to you. “Where’d you get it?”

You knew she was speaking to you but you didn’t respond. You kept your mouth shut.

“You can find one just like it at that boutique downtown,” Andrea spoke up, filling the awkwardness in the wake of your silence. “You know the one with the red mannequins in the window?”

They spoke for a few minutes before the woman finally walked away.

“Happy holidays. It was nice to meet you,” She said, you knew it wasn’t true but you offered a small smile as she left.

“What was that?”

“What?”

“Why’d you ignore her?”

You avoided her eyes. “Did I ignore her?

Andrea scoffed, stunned. “Yeah, kind of. What? Did he not give you permission to speak tonight?”

Your expression must’ve said what you were hoping Andrea wouldn’t assume.

“Really?”

“It’s not like that.”

She struggled for a moment to grasp what you were saying. “Did he tell you not to speak to these people?”

“Andrea,” You said, forcing a laugh. “It’s fine. Let’s just enjoy the party.”

“Did he?”

“They aren’t supposed to speak to me either.”

Your words had the opposite effect of what you intended and she looked even more bewildered.

“Not now,” You said before she could say anything else. “Let’s hang out down here for a while then we can go upstairs and do something else.”

“We need to talk. Now.”

“Please, can’t we just~”

“Now.”

You shook your head. “I told him I’d be downstairs with you. I want to be with you.”

She followed your gaze to where Elvis was. “I don’t think he’ll notice you’re gone.”

You almost laughed at that. “He’ll notice.”

Andrea’s expression was disbelieving but she didn’t continue to pressure you. You sat at the dining table with her well into the night—until Serena found you and told you that Elvis wanted you to turn in for the night.

“Thanks, Serena,” You said, standing. “He wasn’t screwing you when he said it, was he?”

You didn’t have time to take in her expression but you imagined that she was shocked as you walked away.

“M-Mrs. Presley, I’m so sorry.” She crumbled fast. “It was a-a mistake. I told him~ i-it was a one-time thing. I-I swear.”

You stopped and faced her, trying to calm her down before anyone noticed. You forced a reassuring smile. “God, don’t make a scene in front of all these people.”

“Please don’t fire me.”

“I can’t fire you. You don’t work for me.”

She looked devastatingly guilty, you didn’t care. Andrea followed you when you walked away, eyeing Serena judgmentally.

All you wanted to do was go to bed when you got upstairs, however, Andrea quickly reminded you that you had unfinished business to tend to.

“I guess he did it,” She said as soon as the door clicked shut behind you. “He finally shrunk you down to size.”

You didn’t respond. You sat down on the edge of the bed to remove your shoes. You wanted to say something but you couldn’t. Your throat felt like it was constricting, trapping all the words inside.

“He made you show up tonight in a room full of people he told to ignore you,” She continued. “He told you not to speak to anyone and you actually did it. I mean, god, you actually did it. What kind of program is he running on you? It’s like he changes your batteries every thirty days.”

“Please stop.”

“It must be all the pills he funnels down your throat.” You couldn’t take it anymore but she didn’t relent. “That’s why he does it. To keep you pliant and easy to control. Then he keeps you trapped here like a caged animal. If you were in your right mind for more than a few days at a time you might be able to see how fucked all of this is!”

You screamed in frustration. Not necessarily at Andrea, more outwardly.

“What’s the matter with you?” She asked, startled.

“What do you want me to do?” You sobbed.

She sighed reluctantly and hugged you as you cried. “You’re out of your mind.”

You wanted to argue and say that it wasn’t true—you weren’t out of your mind, not completely.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Andrea said. “You can love him and be your own person at the same time. You shouldn’t need his permission to…exist.”

“It’s my fault,” You said. “I chose this. I deserve it.”

“All you’re good for is throwing pity parties.” She sighed, sitting beside you. “When are you going to stop punishing yourself and start living with your decision?”

“You don’t think I’m living with it?”

“I don’t think you’re living at all. You’re going through the motions and drowning everything out.”

You shook your head in denial but your voice was caught in your throat again.

“I can’t stand to see you living like this.”

The hurt you felt suddenly morphed into anger. You wanted to cry even more now, but you clenched your teeth and held back your tears. You felt bad enough without her looking in and speculating about how sad your life must be.

“Andrea, please,” You said. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t?” She asked. “I’ve been by your side for this long. Have I somehow misinterpreted what I’ve been seeing?”

“I don’t know, have you?” You countered. She released a stunned scoff, staring at you in disbelief. You raised your eyebrow in question, waiting a moment for her to continue. “It’s a simple question.”

She directed her gaze downward. “I’m worried about you. That’s the only reason I’m saying anything.”

“You don’t have to worry. I’m happy.” You didn’t notice the evident catch in your voice. “I’m taken care of and I’m loved. I have everything I want. I have you.”

She met your eyes again, her expression was troubled.

“I know you’re worked up about the party but…Elvis does that kind of thing all the time,” You continued. “He thinks he’s protecting me. He doesn’t mean any harm.”

You couldn’t tell if she was believing anything you were saying. She still had that expression on her face—she was so concerned. You sighed when she didn’t respond, glancing off for a moment.

“I think you should go~”

“Don’t make me leave~”

“I have to,” You said. “Just take a few days~ o-or however long you need. Maybe it’s all too much t-too soon. You just need to get away from me…from us.”

She stood with you and let you take her to the door as you spoke.

“If you spend some time away and your feelings don’t change then…maybe you just shouldn’t come around anymore.”

“What?”

“I don’t know…” You opened the bedroom door.

She had tears in her eyes and you fought to hold back your own. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. All I ever wanted was for you to be here for me and to support me. Because I need someone like you in my life.”

“Someone like me?”

“A friend, Andrea. I need a friend.”

She batted away her tears as they fell. You stepped towards her.

“If you can’t be my friend,” You started. “If he makes that too difficult, then you have to go.”

There was a beat of silence before she attempted to dry the last of her tears and left the room. You stood there for a moment. You weren’t shocked, but you had hoped she would have stayed.

You were lying awake, alone in bed when the door crept open. You had no idea what time it was as you stared blankly into the darkness of the room.

“Birdie?”

“Hm?”

“Where’s Andrea?”

“She had to go.”

You felt the bed dip and turned blindly into his arms. You were glad that he couldn’t see your tear ridden face in the dark.

“Why’re you crying?”

“Because she left.”

He tried to comfort you but it felt like he didn’t care. “I’m here.”

“You aren’t going to leave me?”

“Why would I leave you?”

You closed your eyes. “Sometimes, E…it feels like I love you so much and you don’t care about me at all.”

“Everything I do is for you.”

“I know, but still.”

He sighed, tracing patterns into the small of your back. “You’re my heart.”

“Then how could you sleep with Serena?”

“That wasn’t love with Serena.”

“Did you think about how I’d feel?”

“No, because it had nothing to do with you or how I feel about you.”

You didn’t understand.

“I didn’t do it to hurt you,” He said. “You’re my girl. You’re the only girl that has that privilege.”

“So that means you get to go around doing whoever you want?”

“It’s not like that, baby.”

“Then what’s it like?”

He fell silent. You wish you could have seen his expression.

“All I’m saying is…if you’re going to have extracurricular activities I want some liberties of my own.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I want a car and I want to go wherever I want.”

“Ray can take you anywhere~”

“I want to take myself.”

“That’s unreasonable.”

You turned over so that your back was to him. He kissed your shoulder, still holding you.

“What do you think is going to happen?” You asked.

“You’ll run away.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You’ve done it before.”

You fell silent—he was right. “I came back.”

He laughed. “Yeah, after I fucked some sense into you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Maybe I should just knock you up, make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

“I married you. Is that not enough?”

“Nothing will ever be enough. I love you.” His voice was a whisper now. “You’re the only girl I love.”

“Liar.”

“I’ll prove it.”

You didn’t hear from Andrea again for a few days. When you did see her, she was downstairs talking on the phone in the kitchen. Upon first sight, you were relieved that she had come back. But she didn’t speak to you directly when you approached her.

“Here she is,” She said, handing the receiver off to you before walking away.

You watched her go in confusion, bringing the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hi, Joel.”

“How are you?”

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” He said. “I was just talking to Andrea~”

“Since when do you and Andrea talk?” You asked.

“Only the past few days really.”

“Why?”

“She’s been worried about you.”

“She has?”

“Yeah…I’m worried about you too.”

You laughed. “Why?”

“We’re concerned~”

“‘We’re?’”

“Andrea, Dawn and me.”

“Oh, are you?” You felt ambushed even though it was only Joel on the line. “Dawn hasn’t been here or even picked up the phone to call.”

“She’s worried about you, honest,” Joel said. “Andrea thinks that you’re not coping well with the changes happening in your life~”

“Do you want to talk to my husband about this, Joel?”

“No, I want to talk to you.”

You took the phone from your ear. “Elvis!”

Andrea rushed into the kitchen with a panicked expression.

“Go get Elvis,” You said. “You can’t bombard me like this~”

“We aren’t bombarding you,” She said, trying to deescalate the situation. “Just talk to him.”

“How could you do this to me?”

“I’m doing this because I care. We both do.”

You brought the phone to your ear. “What do you know about how I’m coping?”

“I know exactly how you’re coping,” He said.

“You have no idea what I’m going through~”

“Okay, I’m sorry~”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” You stressed. “I’m happy. Tell Dawn that the next time you talk to her. Since she’d rather hear about me from you.”

“Dawn’s been trying to get to you at Graceland, it’s impossible,” Joel said. “The only reason I even got through is because Andrea’s there.”

“What?”

“It’s like he has you cut off.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I?”

You looked at Andrea. “Why would he do that? He loves Dawn.”

“Dawn’s not the only one trying to get in touch with you,” Joel said. “I’m only saying this because I care about you. I think you have a bigger problem here than you’re willing to admit.”

You leaned against the counter, worrying your lip. You couldn’t get the mental image of Dawn trying to call you out of your mind. She must’ve thought you’d discarded her.

“You have free will,” Joel continued. “You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay?”

“Do you want our help?”

“With what?”

He sighed on the other line, he sounded defeated. Elvis entered the kitchen then, looking confused. “What’s going on?”

Andrea looked at you, her eyes pleading with you. You didn’t know if she wanted you to spare her and Joel or hear them out.

You took the phone from your ear, keeping your eyes trained on her as you handed it to Elvis. You hadn’t noticed it before but it was at that moment that you had felt the true impact of your final decision.

“It’s Joel,” You said—your voice sounded flat and separate from yourself. “He wants to talk to you.”

You didn’t wait to hear what came of the conversation. Nor did you linger to see the look of ultimate betrayal on Andrea’s face as you walked away.

She followed after you—stopping you with tears in her eyes. “I’ll never come back here. I refuse to stand by and watch you lose yourself like this.”

You stalled at the bottom of the stairs but you didn’t face her. You couldn’t.

“If I leave now, you’ll never see me again,” She said. “Please, don’t make me leave you.”

If you had another little piece of your heart to spare you would’ve given it to be crushed as she stood there awaiting your response. Her voice was a whisper when she spoke again.

“Come with me.”

You felt her hand slip into yours and, for a moment, you wanted to go. You turned and hugged her, despite the fury still burning in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna miss you,” You said with tears in your eyes that you didn’t feel like crying. “I love you.”

She hugged you back but only for a moment before you were pulling away. You went upstairs without another word or glance in her direction.

You didn’t want to be bothered when Elvis found you upstairs. “Leave me alone,” You said, before he could say a word. “Just leave me alone.”

He caught the bathroom door before you could shut it, forcing it open. “What the hell was that?”

You rushed to leave the room, but he didn’t let you get far.

“What is it that Andrea’s got going on, huh?” He asked, keeping you in place by your arm. “She’s got Joel calling to talk to you, why?”

“I-I don’t know.”

He let you go, pacing angrily. “There’s no reason he should be calling to talk to you about anything. Let alone some made-up issue that Andrea’s conjured up. This is why I can’t fucking stand her. And you don’t make it any better by falling for everything she says.”

You looked at him, bewildered. “Is this my fault?”

“What’d she tell him?” He asked, fuming.

“I’m as surprised by all of this as you are,” You stressed. “I have no clue what they talked about before.”

“Bullshit~”

“I had nothing to do with this~”

“Bullshit! You’ll never talk to her again.”

“What?”

“I want her gone. I gave you a chance, it’s fucking done.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Excuse me?”

His jaw unclenched as he spoke. “You heard me.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. It’s for your own good.”

“Is it? Or is it for yours?”

He shook his head with a look of disdain. “That’s exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. That’s all her.”

“No, it’s me.” You stepped in front of him, making him face you. “I’m asking you.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“By not taking my aunt’s calls? By keeping me isolated from everyone?”

“Everyone?” He asked. “Dawn, I’m sorry about, honey, I really am. But who else is there?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I haven’t exactly been standing guard by the phone, and, last time I checked, it works both ways. You can call anyone, anytime. What’s stopping you?”

You didn’t meet his eyes but refused to step away when he neared you.

“There is no one else,” He said. “Joel and Dawn. Two people who’s call probably got thrown out with the other hundreds of calls that come through asking for you.”

“So?”

“So, it’s not like you’re locked in a bunker with no communication with the outside world. Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t be.”

You met his eyes when he fell silent, trying not to let the hurt show in your expression. “You told Liz not to speak to me.”

Despite your suspicion, you weren’t prepared for his confirmation. Something about his tone made you think that he didn’t want you to find out. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“To protect you.”

“From what, Elvis?”

“…Things you don’t need to hear.”

You turned your back to him, hoping it would stop him from coming any closer. It didn’t.

“I’m not punishing you.” He placed his hands gently on your shoulders.

“Do you want me to be alone?” You asked.

“No, I want you to be with me,” He said. “I can’t risk anyone coming between us and messing with your head.”

You didn’t know what to say. His hands slipped down your shoulders and his arms wrapped around your torso.

“People like Andrea and Joel…they’ll ruin us if you let them, birdie,” He continued. “And I’ll be damned if I let anything or anyone tear us apart again. Do you understand?”

He kissed your shoulder, then your neck—murmuring against your skin. He told you how much he loved and needed you and that nothing could ever come between you. He swore that he’d be there, that you wouldn’t be alone because you’d have him. Always.

“We go together. That means wherever I go, you go.”

He loved doing that—repeating himself until his words became ingrained into the very fiber of your being.

You were supposed to relinquish all control and live within your false sense of bliss, happily. That’s what he expected of you—so that's what you did.

You let him silence your curiosity.

“It’s you, and me. Always.”

Cage up your free will.

“You’re my girl. I’m just making sure you’ll always be my girl.”

However he wanted you—

“Okay, birdie?”

—you’d try your best to be.

“…Okay, E.”

He seemed relieved. He sighed, and some of the tension left his body. He kissed your shoulder once more before pulling away.

“Come on,” He said. “Let’s go downstairs.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to. Liz didn’t get you all dolled up for nothing.”

You nodded—not in agreement exactly. “I’m tired.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, no doubt deciding whether or not to force you. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No.” You didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to be with him either.

“Are you sure?” He hummed suggestively, slipping his arms around your waist again and kissing your neck.

“Stop,” You laughed, pushing him away. “I’m sure.”

“Alright,” He sighed. “I’ll be back up in a few minutes.”

A few minutes turned into a few hours turned into the entire night and some of the next day. You didn’t know what time it was when you finally woke up. When you did, Liz was already there for you.

“How was your day yesterday, Liz?” You asked, even though you knew she wouldn’t give you much of a response.

“Fine, thank you,” She said without elaborating or even glancing up as you did your hair.

“What’d you get up to?” You asked, humoring yourself.

“…Nothing.” She shrugged off the question, showing you yourself in the mirror. “Something for around the house.”

“It’s perfect,” You said, hardly glancing at yourself. “Thank you.”

She smiled bashfully. “Of course.”

Serena entered the room carrying the coffee you requested. You didn’t want it, you just wanted to get rid of her.

You didn’t pay her any mind as she placed the coffee on the table in front of you. Elvis entered after her, meeting your eyes through the vanity.

He always waited until you were fully dressed to come get you. You didn’t know why. There was no mystery to what you’d be wearing or how your hair and makeup would be styled—it was his choice after all.

“You’re gorgeous, doll,” He said, leaning down to kiss your cheek before presenting you with a narrow black box. “Final touch.”

“What is it?” You asked, taking it.

“Open it and see.” He smiled and watched intently as you opened the box.

You offered a smile, hoping you looked pleased with the bracelet.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“I love it.”

He took the bracelet from the box and carefully secured it around your wrist. You stood when it was done and gave him a hug—thanking him.

He dragged you along with him to the studio that day. You figured you were back to being attached at the hip. You were never sure what they were working on—it happened so fast in those days.

“Stay with Ray and Serena,” He said, taking your face in his hands and examining your expression. You weren’t sure what he was looking for. Was he picking apart your appearance or your expression? You couldn’t tell and it made you feel over-scrutinized. “I’ll come find you when we’re all done here.”

“I’ll be waiting.” What else would you be doing?

Ray showed you to the green room. Him and Serena stood by the door in shifts—they tried to go about switching out and taking guard in a casual manner. They’d pretend to be pacing the space in front of the door rather than posting up in front of it. Ray would do this thing where he’d stand and pretend to stretch his legs before Serena would suddenly decide to rest hers. It was funny, and did nothing to make you feel safe. It made you feel caged in and unable to move freely.

“Serena, can you grab my bag from the studio? I must’ve left it by accident.”

“Of course.”

You smiled as she left, looking at Ray. “Do you think they have water?”

His expression remained indifferent as always. “I’m sure they do.”

“Do you mind?”

You were relieved when they were gone and tried to take in the moment before it was over.

As you were slouched down on the couch a white envelope slipped beneath the crack of the door. You frowned and stood to grab it. You peaked out into the hallway—it was bustling with people. You shut the door and tore open the envelope. You didn’t even need to read it to know what it was.

A death threat.

You felt lightheaded. When you showed it to Ray he tried to take it to Elvis but you told him not to mention it and to get rid of it instead.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “They may still be on the premises.”

“It’s fine. No need to blow things out of proportion.”

He nodded and discarded the letter with a sigh. He stood by awkwardly as you cried and never tried to comfort you.

sorry for the late post! next week is the finale <3

#elvis presley #elvis x you #elvis imagine #elvis smut #black reader #elvis presely smut #elvis fluff #elvis x black reader #austin butler #50s elvis #60s elvis #what year is it #who knows #the bikeriders

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thedeathlysallows · 3 years ago

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Summary: Smart, beloved, renowned for her beauty and intelligence, Princess Catriona of Scotland never hurts for male company. In fact, it gets quite boring from time to time. Until her father and uncle invite the cousin of the French King. Jacques Le Gris is charming and handsome, but Catriona is no fool. Anything between them could only end with blood. That doesn’t stop Catriona from wanting him.

Taglist: @gotham-city-uber-driver

A/N: Loads of historical inaccuracies and complete diversion from certain actual historical events. Semi-slow burn. Obsessive Jacques POV in this chapter.

Chapter 3: Time

Jacques doesn’t sleep much that night. He stays up far later than he should, listening for the tiniest hint his princess has returned to him. It never comes but he never loses hope. It’s simply a matter of time.

When he retired to his room earlier than any of the other men in Pierre’s company, he hadn’t anticipated Catriona coming after him. In fact, she was the very reason he had left. She was simply too tempting. Jacques couldn’t trust himself to not ruin what little progress he had made with her by staying in her presence another second. It had taken all his strength of will not to drag her back to his room and have his way with her.

She’s too precious to be ravished like a common whore.

He had known that from the moment their eyes first met.

Too precious. Too good. Too far above him.

But she had come to him. She had followed him back to his room and watched as his fantasies seized him. She watched as he stroked himself, wondering what it would be like to have her hand, her mouth, her cunt instead.

And he will have it. There is no doubt.

She came to him. She sought him out.

Jacques simply has to give it time.

It’s with that simple thought in mind that Jacques rouses himself from bed and dresses himself, methodically selecting each piece of clothing. Some gold here, a bit of blue there. He knows how the heroes dress. He knows how to look like one. He just needs Catriona to see it as well.

Jacques is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Adam in the doorway until he clears his throat and says, “the servant girl Sarah let it slip that Princess Catherine is already in the gardens.”

“Catriona,” is all Jacques says in response.

“I’m sorry?”

“Her name.” He tries not to sound exasperated with Adam as he slips on his gloves, the leather squeaking when he balls his hand into a fist. “It’s Catriona. At least in her natural tongue.”

“English.”

“Gaelic.”

Adam crosses his arms, giving his master a strange, almost concerned look. “You know a lot about the Princess, don’t you?”

Jacques gives him a bright smile, clasping his shoulders. “Adam, when you’re presented with an opportunity you learn all you can about the characters involved and make a plan from there.”

“So you knew about her before we even got here? And had your plan for seduction all mapped out before we even left Paris?”

“No, Adam, it’s not seduction. It’s love.”

“Love?” Adam is thoroughly confused, his face betraying his emotion. “I don’t understand.”

Jacques chuckles. “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to. Catriona herself doesn’t even remember that this is not the first time we’ve met. She wasn’t a Princess back then and I hadn’t even seen my first battle yet. We were… children.”

Adam smirks. “She certainly isn’t a child anymore.”

Jacques falls quiet, his face growing ever so slightly serious, the jovial twinkle in his eyes dimming darker. He thinks of how Catriona was then. Bold, brash, and loud to make up for a lack of confidence in herself. She was fierce and fearless. She still is, but now there is a quiet self-assurance in the way she carries herself. She’s grown more intelligent with the years as well.

“She’s perfect now,” Jacques finally says. “I always knew she would be. I simply had to wait.”

“And if she hasn’t been waiting for you?”

“She has been.” He remembers the touch of her hand as they danced, the mirth in her eyes, the curve of her body pressed to his. “She’s perfect for me, Adam. I will have her.”

“Whatever m’lord wants.”

“Hmm, yes.” Jacques pats Adam on the shoulder. “I’m off to the gardens.”

Adam bows and watches Jacques traipse down the hall, a certain bounce in his step. It’s as if Jacques is treading air as opposed to the dull grey stone of the castle.

“Good luck!”

Jacques laugh echoes back to Adam. “Who needs luck when you have destiny and God on your side?”

One thing Adam knows to be true of Jacques Le Gris: the man will always get whatever he wants. If his sights are truly set on Catriona then she will be his by the end of this trip. It would be in her best interest to submit rather than fight.

When Jacques reaches the gardens he finds Catriona immediately. She sits on a bench, all but glowing in the morning sun. Her cheeks are pink and flushed. Her lips are curved in a gentle smile. Jacques has never seen such beauty in his life and his cock hardens in his trousers knowing that it is his to possess.

“Good morning, Your Highness.” Jacques makes a show of kneeling before Catriona, pressing one hand to his chest and using his other to lay a kiss on her hand. He reaches behind her and plucks a blue thistle from the bush, tucking it behind her ear.

Catriona tries to hide the redness pooling in her cheeks from his touch. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“As well as any man can knowing he’s in the presence of a beauty such as yourself.”

She laughs, the sound genuine and enticing. “No wonder you have the reputation of a scoundrel. How can any woman resist such flatteries?”

“They cannot, Princess.”

Catriona pats the empty spot beside her on the bench. “Sit. Please.”

The sun is even higher in the sky, casting a golden glow on all it touches. Jacques watches Catriona tilt her head back and bask in the warm light. Her eyes flutter shut as she sighs in contentment. He’s struck once more by how different she is from all those years ago, yet somehow, she’s still very much the same. Still very much his.

“You’re staring, Monsieur Le Gris,” she says, face still tilted towards the sun. “I can feel your eyes on me.”

“I cannot be blamed for taking advantage of the beauty placed before me, can I?”

“Careful, Le Gris. My brother has men hidden all around the gardens, the suffocating bastard.”

“Your brother is a smart man if you ask me.”

This grabs Catriona’s attention. Her head snaps over in his direction and her eyes speak of a deep ferocity. “I didn’t ask you.”

He watches as one lone curl falls into her face from all the sudden movement. He wants to reach out and tuck it back into place if only to prove to himself this moment, this sudden fight in her, is real. “Surely you see his perspective? You’re-”

“A princess,” Catriona scoffs bitterly.

“A beauty comparable to no other. A prize any man would be desperate to win. Your brother is lucky I haven’t taken you sooner.”

Catriona hums softly as she considers his words. “For a womanizer you aren’t without your charms. Tell me, how would you have taken me?”

Her flirting and innuendo isn’t lost on him. Filthy images flood Jacques mind in an instant, but he pushes them away with more than a little difficulty. “At night, when the world is asleep save for you and I, I would come to you. I would profess my love and beg you to run away with me, to marry me, to have my children.”

“I see. And in this scenario, how do I respond?”

“With a fight. You resist until you realize it’s destiny.”

Jacques, without realizing it, is so close to her now that he could brush his lips against hers if he wanted it. If she wanted it. And she does. He can see that she wants him just as badly. From the part of her lips, to the heaving of her chest, she wants him.

“Catriona-”

“Catherine!” Catriona pulls back and stands, putting as much distance between herself and Jacques as she possibly can. “You will call me by the appropriate name, sir. I advise you to not over step again.”

“I apologize, Your Highness.”

“I’m not some whore for you to have your fun with and cast to the side when you see someone prettier,” she blurts out, regretting it instantly. Before she says anything else embarrassing and indecorous, she leaves Jacques and the gardens behind. He stands quickly, taking a few steps towards her but does not follow.

“Your Highness!” Jacques calls out to her as she marches off. “Your Highness!”

It’s no good.

She’s gone and doesn’t even look back.

Jacques sighs and sits back down on the bench. She left the book she had been holding when he found her. The same book she had held in the library. The one with the peach cover. Perhaps, Jacques considers, perhaps she meant to leave it as a reason for them to meet again. She had said herself that the Prince hid men all through the garden. Perhaps her outburst and rejection was a show for them to report to their lord.

Jacques picks up the book and carries it with him in his breast pocket for the rest of the day, patting it every so often to ensure it’s still there. When he gets back to his room that night he lays it gently on the table and takes a seat. He stares at it for what feels like an eternity. It’s written in Gaelic, and while Jacques had little to no knowledge of the language, on word leaps out at him as familiar.

Scáthach.

On his first trip to Scotland, still green and untouched by war or ambition, he heard the word repeated through the castle halls. It had seemed to be a code of some sort. A reference to a person. Jacques had hunted for days, tracking down the elusive person he had finally deduced to be a member of the royal family. He searched the castle high and low only to come up empty handed each time. Then one day, as if by heavenly intervention, he overheard servants whispering to one another in the great hall.

“Scáthach is in the valley again,” one had said.

The other tsked and shook their head. “There’ll be nothing but trouble if that’s kept up.”

Jacques had seen the valley on a tour of the castle their first day in Scotland. He knew what was down there. It was a practice arena.

That, that had been the first time he saw Catriona. Armed with nothing but a nickname and desire to solve a mystery. What he hadn’t expected to find in that valley was a girl close to his own age, wielding and axe against her own brother. She had handled it as if it was an extension of her own being. Fluid, agile, strong.

“Good!” Their instructor shouted when Catriona landed and especially painful looking blow against her brother.

David, in a rage at being bested by his nuisance of a little sister, had thrown off his helmet. “Catriona shouldn’t even be here! She should be up in the castle with Mother doing women things!”

The instructor had just shaken his head and replied, “Scáthach finished her lessons for the day. There’s no reason for her to not be here. She isn’t to blame for your own ineptitude with a weapon, David.”

David had looked at his sister then with a hate only siblings could achieve. “Yes, sir.”

Jacques considers the memory to be the only thing that got him through his first campaign. Catriona’s face in the back of his mind was what led him to victory back then. Every step he took, every move he made after that was all for her. It was all to bring them back together.

And they will be together.

Jacques simply needs to wait.

#jacques le gris #jacques le gris x reader #jacques le gris x you

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septicstories · 4 years ago

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Never Seems to Be Enough Time (Part 1)

A/N: A Peter Maximoff and Dadneto fic! There will likely be hints of Cherik in here, because I can’t help myself. But I wanted to write a fic on Peter Maximoff, dig into his character a little bit more, y’know? I’ve only watched X-Men: Days of Future Past and X-men: Apocalypse, as well as WandaVision, but that one isn’t an X-men film. So, have some Peter Maximoff with a side of daddy issues. And a dash of historical inaccuracies. The first Walkman was created in 1979, yet Peter uses one in DOFP, which takes place in (mainly) 1973.

Genre: Angst (sorta?)

Warnings: Cursing, daddy issues, hurt and no comfort, anxiety, derogatory thinking, other things of that nature spoilers for X-men: DOFP and Apocalypse

Word Count: 3.7K

Peter Maximoff never really had some place to call his own. It never really bothered him much either. He’d run around, ending up wherever his body decided to take him, only to return to his mom’s basement.

It was never his room. He’d always been the loser who lived in his mom’s basement. The freakishly fast kid with kleptomania. The kid with no dad. The mutant. The fuck-up. And he always would be.

Up until 1973.

The hollow noises of the ping pong ball hitting the table over and over as he rushed from side to side almost drowned out his mother yelling down to him. He just heard the word cops. He paused, but only for a moment.

He left his paddle in the air as he went upstairs, seeing three men beginning to walk into the house.

After a quick pickpocket or two, he found a folded up paper. Unfolding it, he found the car that sat in front of his house was not a cop car, but a rental car from out of town.

Somewhat peculiar for cops to be driving a rental car, right? Especially if it’s from out of town.

He made his way back to his ping pong game, grabbing the significantly lower in the air paddle and continuing to play by himself.

As the three men came down the stairs, he didn’t bother to stop.

“What do you guys want?”

He noticed the first man who had entered the basement was attempting to follow him around, seemingly astonished. He snickered under his breath, but it was short lived as the ball almost bounced a second time on one side.

“I didn’t do anything!”

The other two men who trailed behind the first quickly followed suit, trying to keep their eyes on him. Not like they could.

Peter dropped the paddle and let the ball bounce off the table as he stretched across his couch.

“Been here all day,”

“Just... relax, Peter. We’re not cops,” the first man said, approaching the silver haired teen a bit.

“Course you’re not cops, if you were cops, you wouldn’t be driving a rental car,” Peter said, his hands resting on the back of his head.

“How’d you know we got a rental car?” the man with long hair asked, his accent making any “T” he said almost non-existent.

“I checked your registration as you were walking through the door,” Peter replied quickly, almost interrupting the second man. “I also had some time, so I went through your rental agreement and saw you’re from out of town. Are you FBI?”

He stood up, stealing the second man’s wallet out of his pocket and flicking it open.

“Nope, you’re not cops. Hey, what’s with this gifted youngster’s place?”

Just as quickly as he picked up the wallet, he dropped it only to grab a popsicle.

“That’s an... old card,” the second man grumbled, replacing his wallet in his pocket.

“He’s fascinating,” the third man said with a small smile.

“He’s a pain in the arse,” the second man scowled.

Ouch.

Not the first time Peter had been called that. Not by a longshot. But time doesn’t make things hurt any less, now does it?

“What, a teleporter?” the third man asked, looking at the first man.

Peter looked at the first man, who just seemed exasperated.

“No, he’s just fast,” the first man sighed. “When I knew him, he wasn’t so... young,”

Peter sat back down on his couch, the half eaten popsicle quickly disappearing into almost nothing as he spoke, mouth still full.

“Young? You’re just old,”

“So you’re not afraid to show your powers?” the third man spoke, his tone sounding off.

Peter couldn’t say why it sounded wrong, it just felt out of place.

“Powers? What powers, what are you talking about?” Peter asked sarcastically. “You see something strange here?”

The second and third man shared a glance before looking back at him. Peter’s eyes met theirs, almost like a challenge.

“Nothing anybody’d believe if you told them?”

The first man gave Peter a look that made him downright uncomfortable. Once again, a look he’d get from a lot of people. Teachers, the cops, his mother. That slight head tilt to the left, that frown with pursed lips, that furrowed brow. The look he’d grown used to. The look he associated with disappointment, annoyance, exasperation.

To avoid looking at any of the men, he sped off to his Pong machine, playing through the game at a rapid fire pace, the bare popsicle stick dumped in a nearby trash can.

“So, who are you? What do you want?” he asked, his dead expression staring back at him among the ball that danced between the sides of the screen.

“We need your help, Peter,” the first man said.

“With what?”

“To break into a highly secured facility. And to get someone out.”

“Prison break?” he asked with a smirk. “That’s illegal, you know.”

After a brief pause, the first man spoke up again.

“Well, only if you get caught.”

“So what’s in it for me?”

“You,” the second guy began. “You kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon.”

Peter paused, the game frozen with the score at 3 to 2. 5 balls he let slip past himself. He turned to see the three men, glancing at them all again.

The look had disappeared from the first man’s face, all of them looking at him expectantly.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Peter asked carefully.

“Because we’re just like you.”

Peter’s eyes bounced around the three men, none of them looking to have any sort of mutation or remarkable thing about them or their appearance. If all three of them were mutants, why didn’t they at least look the part like he somewhat did?

“Show him,” the second man said to the first man.

Peter looked to the first man, who made a fist and clenched it.

A sickening noise that sounded somewhat like a squelch began a series of bone-chilling sounds as a trio of boney claws sprouted from the clenched fist.

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, looking at the bone sticking out of the man’s fists before meeting his eyes.

“It’s cool, but it’s disgusting.”

Okay, don’t fuck it up, Peter. Don’t fuck this up.

Peter continued to walk through the hallway in stolen garb from one of the guards, holding a lunch tray. A plastic gun stayed attached to his hip as he entered the area with the holding cell.

He looked down through the glass ceiling of the cell, seeing the prisoner asleep on what could barely qualify as a bed, looking a lot more like some sort of folded up blanket.

Peter placed a slip of paper on top of the lunch tray, and slid it through a chute on the floor to give it to the prisoner.

The tray slid down, waking up the prisoner who read the note. He looked up, and Peter gave a grin in response.

Kneeling down by the edge of the cell, he placed his hands on the glass, taking a deep breath. He began to move his hands up and down at an unrealistic pace, the glass shaking underneath his fingertips.

Peter’s grin grew massively as the glass shattered, the prisoner shielding himself before pulling himself up out of his cell.

“In three seconds, those doors are going to open. And 20 guards will be here to shoot us,” the prisoner said, looking straight ahead.

Peter quickly ran behind the prisoner, the guard’s hat falling off, placing his hand on the prisoner’s back and head. “I know, that’s what I’m waiting for.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m holding your neck so you don’t get whiplash,”

“What?”

Shit, he must’ve spoken too fast.

“Whiplaaaaaaaaaaaash,” Peter drew the word out before turning his eyes back to the door.

The doors opened, several guards appearing with plastic guns. “Don’t move!”

Peter’s grin grew massively as they rushed into a closing elevator. The guard he had left in there still nicely stuck to the wall by duct tape.

The prisoner wobbled a bit, but he was ignored for the moment as Peter got out of the stiff, stolen uniform and back into his stiff, leather outfit.

“You’re good, it’ll pass,” Peter reassured as the prisoner leaned against the wall of the elevator. “It happens with everyone,”

That single beat of silence between the two was too much for the silver haired teen, what with all the questions swirling in his head.

“Must’ve done something pretty serious... what’d you do, man?”

The lack of response from the prisoner only helped Peter gain a more playful attitude toward the whole situation. “What’d you do? What’d you doooooo?~ Why’d they have you in there?”

Before Peter could ask his question yet again, the prisoner spoke up. “For killing the president,”

Peter’s jaw couldn’t decide whether to drop or snap shut, so he just opted to nod.

Wow... shit!

“Everything I’m guilty of is fighting for people like us.”

“You take karate? You know karate, man?” Peter asked, wanting to hop off the subject.

“I don’t know karate. But I know crazy,” the prisoner sighed.

Peter, still hyped up on adrenaline, could only smile and look down at is feet, ignoring the feeling of anxiety beginning to bloom in his chest.

After a while in the elevator, Peter piped up again. “They told me you control metal,”

“They?” the prisoner asked.

“You know, my mom once knew a guy who could do that,” Peter snickered to himself, the elevator rising steadily before coming to a halt.

As the elevator opened, Peter saw the men he learned were Charles and Logan, standing in a kitchen area, absolutely fucking drenched. The sprinklers were going off.

“Charles?” the prisoner asked quietly.

Charles’ face twisted in anger and quickly threw a punch at the prisoner’s face with little to no remorse. The prisoner fell to the ground from the force, Peter backing up.

Why was he punching the guy they were breaking out?! He could kill all of them if he wanted to!

“Good to see you too, old friend,” the prisoner said, moving his hand from his jaw. “And walking.”

“No thanks to you,” Charles spat.

The prisoner stood up, staring Charles down. Peter had no clue what to do, just standing by idly, waiting to see if he or Logan would need to separate the two.

“You’re the last person in the world I expected to see today,” the prisoner said.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to,” Charles voice was stern, like that of a scolding parent. “If we’re getting you out of here, we’re doing it my way: no killing,”

“No helmet,” the prisoner said with a smirk. “I couldn’t disobey you, even if I wanted,”

“I’m never getting inside that head again,” Charles said coldly.

Peter shared a quick glance with the guard taped to the wall before looking between the two men.

“I need your word, Erik,”

The sexual tension in the room is rising faster than I can run, holy shit.

The prisoner nodded before guards burst into the kitchen.

“NOBODY MOVE!”

“HOLD IT, RIGHT THERE!”

Peter followed behind the prisoner and left the elevator, hearing him murmur “Charles,”

“DON’T MOVE! HANDS UP, OR WE WILL SHOOT!”

“Freeze them, Charles,” the prisoner said firmly.

“I can’t,” Charles muttered quietly.

“HEADS UP!”

Items in the kitchen rattled before things flew up into the air.

“NO!” Charles yelled as he placed a hand in front of the prisoner.

Things that were toppling mid air slowed to a near halt, as did the sprinkles and the people.

All except for Peter.

Turning on his walkman and putting on his headphones, he took a deep breath.

A quick crack of the knuckles, and he went off running, going up onto the walls.

If I could save time in a bottle

Wall running was always such an exhilarating experience. One that always got the blood pumping. It never failed to make Peter smile.

But running on a wall and running through droplets of water? That was something else.

The first thing that I’d like to do

A nearby pot was flying through the air, whatever sort of stew in the pot spilling ever so slowly.

Without thinking, he brought a finger up for a taste, water still splashing onto his goggles.

Hm. It could probably use some more salt.

Is to save everyday ‘til eternity passes away

As he continued along the walls, he flicked off the cap from one of the guards, and poked another in the face.

The slowness of everything else around him combined with the speed of the poke was going to make him go fucking flying.

Just to spend them with you

Peter grinned just thinking about it. This was the most amazing experiences he’d ever had in his nearly two decades of life on this Earth.

If I could make days last forever

Peter hopped off the wall, literally dodging a bullet and throwing a plate at the nearest officer.

The plate slowly glided through the air, not even close to making an impact yet. That was going to leave an egg on the guard’s head for sure, probably shatter as well.

Okay, maybe that was a bit overkill.

But then again, he didn’t care. He was having the time of his fucking life!

If words could make wishes come true

Bullets continued to slowly soar through the air as Peter continued fucking with the guards.

He never once thought he’d get into the Pentagon, let alone to absolutely obliterate anyone who was in there!

I’d save every day like a treasure and then

The next guard he saw, he decided to have a little bit more fun.

He took the gun from his hands, and curled his hand into a fist, making it meet his cheek. He wishes he brought a camera with him so he could take pictures of these moments.

Again, I would spend them with you

Two guards who stood next to each other had their arms cross so their guns were in each others faces. And for a extra oomph, he decided to steal a hat.

At least he’d get some sort of souvenir from this event.

But there never seems to be enough time

The guards were all going to be met with a peculiar fate, but there was one thing left in the equation to fix.

The bullets.

To do the things you wanna do once you find them

Peter ran toward the bullets, taking a look at them for a moment.

Maybe if I moved one over there... no, that’d end up nicking him in the neck. Oh, wait, that’ll work.

I’ve looked around enough to know

He lightly nudged the bullets around, making sure that they’d all avoid the three men in the kitchen.

Their aim was absolute horse shit. One or two of those bullets would’ve easily hit Charles if he weren’t there to move them.

If they were aiming for him, that’s one thing. But if they just wanted to hit the prisoner, they would’ve failed miserably.

That you’re the one I wanna go through time with

Peter ran to the other side of the kitchen and stopped entirely.

Time went back to a normal pace around him as guards and food went flying, and the men flinched as the bullets hit the elevator doors behind them.

Peter turned off his walkman and took out his headphones, looking at the astonished trio.

The prisoner and Logan shared a glance, all of them leaving the kitchen slowly

A mere mumble of a “Thanks, kid.” came from Logan as he walked past him, but that was all.

He was too hopped up on adrenaline to care, frankly. At least, for now.

Peter didn’t know.

He didn’t know.

She didn’t tell him.

He should’ve figured it out.

Who else could he have been?

The news said it all, though he really wish it hadn’t.

“Leaders from all communities are urging their citizens to remain calm as police and armed forces are mobilizing to find Lehnsherr before he can strike again. If anyone has information about Lehnsherr or, as he is also known, Magneto, contact your local authorities immediately and proceed with caution as he is considered highly--”

“Peter?”

His mother’s voice calling his name snapped him out of the trance the television had put him in, flicking it to the next channel and going to the Ms. Pac-Man machine in his room.

“‘Sup?” he asked as his mom came down the stairs.

“Just checking on you,” she said calmly, an empty glass in her hands.

How could she be calm about all of this?

Peter’s mind was anything but calm as his wrists flicked the joy stick much more harshly than he usually would, as if it’d release all of the tension building up inside of him.

“I’m good. Playing Pac-Man,” he internally cringed at the way his voice broke when he spoke. He couldn’t play it off as puberty, obviously. He was 27.

He heard whatever bullshit movie was playing on his TV switch back to the news he both did and didn’t want to hear.

“Sure you weren’t watching this?”

He dropped a near silent profanity from his mouth before glancing at the screen.

A picture of Magneto in the top right corner as the news anchor continued reading off of his script. Something about it being ten years since mutants and humankind had reached peace.

He helped out with that, and he realized it after the event had taken place.

And it took him ten years to come to a second realization about his break-in at the Pentagon.

“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” his mother asked tiredly.

“You wanted me to get out of the house more, right?” he asked semi-sarcastically, the flicking of the joystick having calmed slightly.

“I can’t stop you,” his mother sighed. “Nobody can. But trust me, this won’t end well. Nothing does, with him.”

Peter stopped, looking back at his mother. His poor, tired mother, who had to deal with him and his sister. His sister wasn’t the problem in the family. No, that was him.

“I’m not afraid of him,” he said genuinely.

“You should be,”

His mother’s voice barely reached above a whisper, seeming to grow more and more tired of him by the minute.

And with that, she left. She just dropped that final bomb on him, and left.

Was that going to stop Peter from what was likely to be a not-so-perfect reunion? Of course it wasn’t. Like his mother said, nobody could stop him. Especially not himself.

He pulled out the card from Charles, old and worn from years of being put in his pockets or wallet.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters

Charles Xavier

Professor

Beneath the name sat the address, only being a few states over. He could get there in absolutely no time at all.

But, today wasn’t the day to do it.

Peter placed the card back, laying on his bed as the news droned on and on. It had moved off the topic of Erik Lehnsherr, which was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.

He needed to know more about him, but it was going to drive him fucking crazy if he heard that man’s name again.

“Fuck,” he hissed, swallowing the steadily growing lump in his throat.

The topic never made him cry when he was a kid. So why was he crying over this now?

He knew crying wasn’t a weakness. He knew it, he heard it, he told that to others when they felt like shit for crying. But whenever he did it, it made him feel vulnerable.

That’s why he always did it alone.

He didn’t want anyone to see how vulnerable he truly was. It was much more of an anxiety issue than anything else. He’d been told things like the usual “boys don’t cry!” sort of stuff.

But things he was told never helped him with keeping true to that statement. And time didn’t make him more mature or calm. He still acted like a child, which he never heard the fucking end of. He was still a disappointment, especially to the Maximoff family name.

His mom worked her ass off to take care of him and his sister, only for him to fuck it all up by stealing and not getting off of his lazy ass and getting a damn job.

“Fuck!”

His nails dug into his palms painfully as he smacked himself in the head with the heel of his palm. He needed to stop thinking like that. He needed to stop thinking. He needed to stop.

A deep breath in.

A heavy, shaky sigh out.

Grabbing his walkman, a hoodie, and his headphones, he left his room.

“Ma, I’m going for a run,” he nearly spat the words out so his voice wouldn’t crack.

He just got a noise of acknowledgment before he left the house.

He needed to get away.

So he ran. He ran nearly across the entire country, landing in Glasgow, Montana.

Most secluded area in the States.

What did he do?

He flipped up his hood and sprinted behind the cemetery. The small town had so much space for him to run around.

Instead, he screamed.

He screamed long and hard until his lungs were begging for him to stop. Until his throat ached. Until he couldn’t hear his brain anymore.

It was stupid. The fact that just hearing his name made him spiral.

His brain wasn’t even thinking about him anymore, all set on insulting the place it was kept.

Bastard.

Mistake.

Fuck-up.

The words that would just repeat over and over until he started screaming again. He wasn’t built to handle that mental pain. He wasn’t built to deal with anxiety. Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to be built.

His father left his mother before he was born because it was an affair. There was no fucking love involved. Just a quick fuck and gone. He wasn’t supposed to happen.

And it was obvious that no one had told his father who he was or showed him what he looked like.

Because when he saved Erik Lehnsherr from the Pentagon, Peter Maximoff didn’t get any recognition from his father.

A/N: Part one has been finished! So, I hope you enjoyed it, because there’s going to be a second and possibly third part to this. There will be more movie based stuff, but once we finish scenes from X-men Apocalypse, we’re ignoring Dark Phoenix and just making shit up. So, for now, have angst. I don’t necessarily have a tag list for my X-men stuff yet, so I’m just gonna tag my beta reader! If you find that you’re interested on being on here, just tell me somehow! I hope you have a good day/night!

Tag list: @siivermoon

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff (x-men)#x-men days of future past #x-men days of future past spoilers #x-men dofp #x-men dofp spoilers #x-men apocalypse #x-men apocalypse spoilers #anxiety #anxiety mention #anxiety tw #daddy issues #daddy issues mention #daddy issues tw #cursing #cursing tw

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solecize · 4 years ago

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EIGHTEEN FOREVER - PT 1.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. it all starts off when the bad boy greaser with a heart of gold, wong yukhei, almost runs you over with his beat up chevy on your way to school. your love story is immortalized through pen and paper, midnight ink and bloodstained envelopes spanning months on end. the sixties are a time of freedom and heartbreak—the time of your life. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lucas x reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. period au (1960s) / high school au / slice of life / fluff / angst 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mature language, alcohol use, violence, drug use, light sexual references, mentions of death, themes of war, implied toxic family relationships, probably some historical inaccuracy but only if u squint 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 7.3k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. not proofread, as usual <3 all of the poems do not belong to me. in addition, smoking is normalized in this fic, in addition to slight tinges of sexism. i do not support either, but the elements were added due to the time period.

for the one with the pretty eyes:⠀ ⠀ 555-968-84 ⠀ ⠀ call me. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ (in the blue chevy in front of you)

on your side of town, graduating high school was as rare as a teenage male walking around with clean knuckles and hair that wasn’t slicked back with thick pomade. you were proud of yourself for making it this far, while all of your other friends dropped out early and had babies or began to work full time. books weren’t for everyone and not everybody could afford it. college was a long shot for most of the graduating class, or at least the ones from your neighbourhood.

“who are ya taking to prom, huh?” kunhang was relentless in sticking his nose all up in your business, bothering you for weeks on end about your date. he began kicking the passenger’s side from the backseat to annoy you further and you flipped him off with a growl.

sicheng watched the two of you with a snort, muttering something about you two being geeks and proceeded to kill the engine of the car, once finding a suitable spot at the drive in.

you rolled your eyes. “why do you keep assuming that i’m even going? why’re you going?” kunhang was your only friend who was going to be graduating at your side.

“because i can. i think that’s more than enough of a reason.”

just a fraction of the kids you knew from your neighbourhood attended prom, most preferring to hit the watering holes to party with fake ids rather than stand under hot lights and drink bland punch. then again, only a fraction of those kids had the privilege of being able to go. however, the event was a waste of time, if anyone asked you.

“i have other things to worry about,” you retorted. “like exams.”

you carried a lot of pride on your shoulders. you were the only child in your household to make in this far in academics, with your mom long gone in the cooler behind bars and your father leaving this world when you were young. your older sister lived the glamorous housewife life and barely spoke to you, turning her nose up at the family that she left behind for fortune. it was just you and your older brother fending for yourselves in that tiny house that was always empty, with you constantly out and your brother always working out of state for his truck driving job.

“it’ll be a gas, c’mon,” kunhang began to pout. “i’ll even let you dance with me.” between the girls that nearly broke their necks whipping around to get a good look at him in the school hallways, you doubted he would be able to.

pretending to gag, you replied. “ew, no.” you laughed and exited the mustang to avoid him swatting at your arm.

the clementine sky was just about dipping into the horizon, brightening the small lot with warmth and comfort. chatter and laughter wafted in the air, along with cigarette smoke and the hug of youth. june’s summer beast was just about creeping in, as other attendees pulled up in miniskirts and wife beaters to beat the heat to a pulp. it was the perfect evening for a crappy movie and an ice cold coca cola.

sicheng teased, “i’m surprised you’re even making it out of that hellhole with a diploma, much less going to the prom.” he poked kunhang’s side and the other male yelped, pulling him into a headlock as the three of you walked. you rolled your eyes.

weaving through the crowd of people making their way back to their cars, you were heading towards the concession area with the boys. as always, sicheng insisted on arriving just a little bit later because he liked being parked far away from the screen.

you were lost in the thoughts of buttery popcorn and a cream soda when you stopped in your tracks, frozen. sicheng and kunhang noticed this, having just released each other in their psuedo fight, and looked at you strangely. you wanted to facepalm yourself.

you exclaimed, “aw, fuck, we’re a whole buncha idiots. we forgot!”

the two boys looked horrified, as they slowly realized what you all had done. immediately, your group scurried back to sicheng’s mustang and tried to avoid shoving into people. the outing had just begun and the last thing you needed was kunhang’s hothead smacking into someone’s jaw.

“chenle! chenle, you good, buddy?”

upon closer inspection, you could hear the sounds of thumping up against the inside of the mustang. sicheng nearly fell over when he reached for the trunk, heaving it up to reveal the red-faced younger male. he dramatically gasped for air and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

sicheng’s body folded and doubled over, as he tried to catch his breath in laughter. “holy shit! dude, you fucking idiot!”

“me?” kunhang was wiping tears from his eyes, body rumbling with his snickering. “who’s idea was it to bring the kid?”

you loved having chenle around, your younger wisecrack of a neighbour who often tagged along with the three of you. he was an absolute ball of sunshine. unfortunately, being the youngest meant being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

obviously, the boys meant no harm, but you were the one with the softest heart between all of them and was far more gentle towards him. “aw, we’re really sorry, chenle,” you managed to sputter out between your laughter.

“why do i always end up going in the trunk?” chenle frowned, shoulders drooping. “and i ain’t a kid!”

and of course, chenle and kunhang began shoving each other, albeit playfully at the very least. you sighed and came to the conclusion that you were friends with a bunch of goddamn zoo animals and that you needed some female friends. they stopped when you yelled at them to knock it off.

sicheng replied, “sorry, buddy. you’re the smallest one, so you luck out.” of course, it would never be him because it was his car, even though he was the bright one who suggested hiding one of you in the trunk to avoid paying for an extra ticket.

“can we just get our popcorn now?” chenle had officially given up, though his pout stained his face.

you all murmured in agreement, though everyone shared the same shit eating grins for accidentally abandoning chenle in the trunk of the mustang. he continued to claim that he was suffocating the entire time, as you lost yourself in the daydream of a refreshing drink from the concession stand amid the intense humidity.

then, kunhang called your name and that’s when you realize you’d walked ahead when everyone else stayed behind.

the three boys were inspecting something on the windshield of the mustang. sicheng remained neutral, so you figured it couldn’t have been a scratch or crack or something. you jogged over to peer over at what they were all looking at.

“when did someone leave this. . . .?” sicheng trailed off, trying to remember if he saw any figures approach in car. it must have been right after they initially left.

it was a piece of lined paper, likely torn out of a notebook and tucked underneath one of the wipers. the handwriting was clear and you cocked an eyebrow. pretty eyes?

“wow, someone left a note for me,” kunhang grinned.

chenle cleared this throat, looking elsewhere. “uh, actually, i don’t think it’s for you, man.”

you followed his eyes, realizing that he spotted the said blue chevy. a handful of guys lounged around the back of the pickup, some you even recognized from school and others you just knew. there was the former football team linebacker, yangyang. your once upon a time lab partner, xiaojun. even your older brother’s best friend, kun. there was ten, who worked at the ice cream shop that you frequented.

then, there was the one who was looking straight at you.

everyone knew yukhei, but nobody really knew him. he had a shield of mystery in between himself and the rest of the world, only truly with the same four guys at all times. that’s how you saw him as, anyway. otherwise, to the rest of your town, he was the bad boy with a heart of gold, the boy with witty retorts and the brightest smile that you’d probably ever laid eyes on. something seemed so off about the way he portrayed himself to everyone else, though.

of course, to the rest of the girls at your school, he was the top candidate on everyone’s list for a prom date. you knew that enough, from the explicit whispers from girls that you overheard in the middle of class. everyone wanted him.

that’s why, if he hadn’t locked eyes with you, there was no way in hell you’d believe that yukhei wrote that note for you.

the idea scared you and you weren’t thrilled by the possibility of having wong yukhei. that’s why you immediately crumpled up the notes and tossed it to the side. he watched your every move as you did so.

after all, yukhei nearly ran you over the week before and he clearly could not remember your name.

the week before.

“are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

so, you were a little sleep deprived. you’d been up until the early morning hours finishing an essay worth a chunk of your grade, which shouldn’t have taken so long if it weren’t for the fact that you had to deal with the constant distractions that were your friends. at some point, chenle and sicheng dropped by and decided to make you cookies in the kitchen to cheer you on as you reached the end of the school year—obviously, that escalated into a disaster. you spent a few hours cleaning before you could finally kick the two knuckleheads out of your home.

that morning, you literally rolled out of bed onto the floor when you woke up. this was upon realizing that you slept through your alarm clock for school, snoozing off into the deepest sleep of your life after finishing your assignment. that’s how you found yourself sprinting from street light to street light, hoping to at least make it before the end of second period.

then, there was the baby blue chevy pickup speeding in like lightning from your left. you honestly should have heard it from a mile away, with the gurgle and sputter of an engine humming the disgusting tune louder than anything else on the street. however, you were too lost in the daze of fatigue and trying to remember if you packed yourself a lunch.

you noticed the truck a little too late, as it was a few away from you before you yelped and attempted to hop away, but ended up landing straight on your bottom. the impact nearly knocked the wind out of you and you braced yourself for the crash. thankfully, the driver had enough sense to come to a screeching halt, just about to touch you. this is when you yelled at the male behind the wheel.

the features of his handsome face knitted together. “aw, shit, shit shit—are you alright?” he yelled.

it took half a second to process what just happened, ignoring the stinging ache oozing in your backside. you took a sharp inhale and everything exploded like a volcano. shooting right up in a sitting position, you were met with the eyes of wong yukhei.

“do i look alright?” you snapped and he opened his mouth to reply, but you didn’t let him get even a word out. “you almost killed me, running that stop sign! i’m freakin’ exhausted, probably got three hours of sleep and i had to deal with my brother’s idiot cat almost clawing my eyes out on my way out! i’ve been running for forever and my legs ache like hell and i have to go to work straight after school! and. . .and, worst of fucking all, i’m late for school!”

yukhei simply blinked, staring back at your state, with dark crescent moons slapped underneath your eyes and your chest heaving for air. you were, in all simpleness, a mess. he smiled slightly, running a hand through his precisely twirled up, slicked up hair. you narrowed your eyes at his response.

he simply replied, “you wanna hop in?”

“i—what?”

“c’mon sweets, i’m sorry. i fucked up, at least let me give you a ride to school,” yukhei said, unbuckling his seatbelt. he began to exit his vehicle, gliding over to you and extended his hand. a smile remained on his lips and your head started to spin.

that was definitely not the response you expected. the only reason you went off on him so harshly was because you were used to dealing with the idiot hoods from your block, who seemed like they were raised without a lick of manners in the very few braincells in their heads. as a woman, you knew that you were going to automatically be treated lightly and built strong walls for that very reason. to have yukhei respond with such quietude was foreign to you and you felt a weight drop at the pit of your stomach for your reaction.

reluctantly, you grabbed his hand and he helped heave you up. you stumbled slightly once you rose a little too fast and you instinctively grabbed for leverage, which happened to be a handful of his leather jacket. yukhei didn’t seem to mind, though, which astounded you because other guys like sicheng and kunhang carried their leathers like their pride and joy, with even the slightest crinkle driving them mad. you apologized regardless.

yukhei attempted to steady you, both hands on either side of your shoulders. “s’okay, no worries. you kinda took a hard fall there.”

you gulped down the ball forming in your throat, trying to look anywhere but into his deep brown eyes. these were the same eyes that girls cursed for tearing into their hearts and bringing on permanent cracks. the same eyes that girls cried over in the washrooms at school. school. you were late for school.

“um, yeah, let’s. . .let’s just go.” you’d been counting time in your head since leaving your front door and knew exactly what time it was, but you still pulled up your sleeve to glance at your watch. anything to avoid looking into his eyes.

something must have creeped in under your skin and taken control of your muscles because you were not the type of person to get into a stranger’s car. alright, wong yukhei was no stranger, but he had a reputation that you were well aware of. it was just as bad. or maybe it really just because you were—

“—late for school again, but i guess i’m used to it and you’re not,” yukhei had been saying, but you were zoned out and had just opened the car door.

it seemed to had only occurred to you then, but you sometimes forgot that yukhei still went to your school. he had a distinct group of friends that he spent time with, all of which had dropped out quite some time ago. he never really struck you as the academic type and as far as you could remember, you never ran into him in the hallways or in class. the only reminders of his existence in the place were the indecent fantasies written about him on the inside of the girls’ bathroom stalls.

“you sure you’re okay, y/n? it is y/n, right?” yukehi glanced over at you from the driver's seat, roaring life back into the pickup with the turn of his key.

you thought you heard incorrectly, but then he repeated it. yukhei actually knew your name and it wasn't just because he was this popular boy that all the girls went after, but you were in shock be ause you'd never even exchanged words before as far as you knew. he seemed to read your mind and gave you a look that read "surprised you, didn't i?" with the raise of a single eyebrow.

yukhei continued as a further explanation,“i sat behind you in history class last year before i transferred out of it.”

clipping in your seatbelt, all you could reply with was, “yeah.” your eyes darted over to the way he mindlessly gripped the steering wheel with one hand, with a beautiful swirl of reds and blues staining his otherwise immaculate knuckles. he let the other one hang loose out of the window. “you promise to drive safe?”

a goosebump inducing grin, one bright enough to outshine a sun, stretched across his lips. “yeah, cross my heart.” yukhei said this, even as booked beyond the speed limit. you didn’t say anything. “to be fair, sweets, you weren’t exactly lookin’ out when you were sprinting earlier.”

you awkwardly twirled the ends of your hair hanging down your shoulder, but tried to keep an annoyed expression. “i was counting on drivers following road signs, yukhei.”

he smiled even wider. “ah, so you do know my name.”

that was a pretty ridiculous thought, there was no way that he wasn’t just teasing. yukhei had to be even just the slightest bit self-aware enough to see the way he’s flanked by girls at school. he was popular, enough so that quiet kids like yourself who never talked to him knew him. besides, you all lived in a town where everybody knew everybody and chances are, their kids come to know their kids and so on. nobody escaped the little bubble and routine that you all settled in.

something tugged at your heartstrings, though, at the way yukhei lit up.

“what’s the story behind those bruises?” you finally said, cocking your head to the side.

“hmm?” yukhei murmured, as the sight of your school building came into sight. “oh. just a badge of loyalty. you know how it is.”

unfortunately, you did know. around here, boys seemed to travel in packs and each one had each other’s backs to the grave. some found it silly, but there was an air of unspoken understanding.

“some kids from the south side give y’all trouble?”

if you had to guess, you would have probably gone with the reason being yukhei’s hothead of a best friend, yangyang. there was one particularly bad outburst last month, when you and kunhang went to the diner after school, only to be interrupted by a fight erupting between yangyang and some rich kid from the south. of course, the prep had his boys with him to back him up and bring the fight outside, prompting yukhei and xiaojun to get involved automatically. you had watched in amusement from the other side of the window with your strawberry milkshake, as yukhei beat a guy up against his own car.

“not me, my little sister. that shit don’t ever sit right with me, runnin’ their mouths on an innocent girl like her.” something in your brain clicked and you remembered that yukhei had a kid sister, only because she was in chenle’s grade and he used to have the biggest crush on her. “it’s just the two of us and our grandpa, so i feel extra responsible for her.”

that was the way your brother used to be with you, when he turned legal just before your mom got sent behind bars. you’d always have appreciation for him and in turn, you gained a new wave of respect for yukhei.

“what’s the story behind ms. honour roll being late to school?” it took you a second to realize that he was talking about you and you snorted.

you replied, “i’m surprised you asked. if i were you, i’d be scared of me going off on another rampage.”

“yeah, i’d bet you’d really get mad the second time. maybe even beat me up?” yukhei smirked, making sure you were paying attention to the fact that he’d obeyed the next stop sign they crossed paths with. you rolled your eyes.

“you’d end up just like one of them roman emperors,” you mused, watching a trace of confusion emerge on his handsome features. “c’mon, that’s from like the second week of our history class.”

yukhei merely shrugged. “i was too distracted.”

“distracted? by what, the teacher’s droning voice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nah, this real pretty girl that sat in front of me. so much so that i had to transfer out because i would have probably flunked out.”

before you knew it, he pulled into the parking lot of the school. before being able to announce the arrival, you’d already nearly ripped off your seatbelt and zipped out of the car, yelling a thanks as you scurried off with a deep rouge tinting your cheeks. there was still ten minutes left before the end of second period. yukhei only chuckled, watching you.

dear yukhei,

remember that first night at the drive-in? honestly, i thought you were a real fox. someone i had no chance with. the fact that you gave me a chance scared the hell out of me. you know how many restless nights i had, tossing and turning because i wanted to know why you chose me? out of the girls in the world, you made me feel like a goddamn diamond in a pile of dirt. i’ll never forget that. i’ll never forget the way you made me feel that summer, the first and last one we spent together.

love, your sweets.

after ignoring yukhei at the drive-in, you were positive that was going to be the last you heard from him. however, he still plagued your thoughts like a ghost. you had no idea why, but you knew that it scared you. it was the day after and you arrived to school early, trudging to your locker with a yawn. you thought your eyes were deceiving you, when you pulled open the door to be met with a note flying out of a random crook.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

and, to a lightning shock to the middle of your chest, you looked over to your side to find yukhei. he leaned against a wall of lockers, not even pretending to listen to the two girls talking to him. he was looking straight at you and smiled. you let out an exasperated scoff, wondering if you were dreaming.

you’d received a few more of these love poems before you decided to take matters into your own hands. or, really, it was chenle who forced you to do so. you didn’t dare confide in either sicheng or kunhang about your new admirer. there was no doubt that they’d turn their lip up at the idea of love poems, would probably go on and call yukhei some emasculating name. they also knew of yukhei’s reputation and were a tad over protective.

alright, a “tad” was an understatement. kunhang was furious when he realized yukhei was trying to make a pass at you at the movies and sicheng had to shove him back into the car to prevent a fight. it also seemed that it was so that he could find a different parking spot, away from yukhei and his friends.

although he began courting you from a safe distance, yukhei was not one for subtlety. you noticed that right off the bat when he boldly gave you his number in front of all your friends. the poems in your locker was another thing, as he was always just around the corner to ensure that you knew they were from him.

she walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies.

the latest of them, discovering the folded up note in your locker once again, had particularly swept you off your feet.

“what if he’s like this with every other girl?” you began to worry, fiddling with the phone cord in your hand.

you were seated in your living room one tuesday night, crossed legged on the ugly floral couch with a joint in between your lips. sicheng and kunhang left just minute prior, leaving you with chenle. he was watching television in your dad’s old armchair, in an identical position as you. neither of you were in the mood to go out, having being burned out by final exams. meanwhile, chenle made your house his second home when he couldn’t get a foot in his own door without his parents yelling at him for any reason they could find.

chenle snorted. “if wong yukhei wrote love poems to every girl he’s been with, i’m pretty sure we would’ve all heard by know.” he took a drag out of his joint. “besides, he only has eyes for you, even when he has other broads hangin’ off of him. everyone’s been noticin’ that the girls’ve been backin’ off of him lately, too.”

at this point, you were no longer scared of the idea of wong yukhei. in fact, it excited you. maybe it was the marijuana doing its usual duty, but you had a sudden surge of energy flowing through your veins.

reaching into the back pocket of your capris, you uncrumpled the first piece of paper that started it all. you hadn’t thrown out the note from the drive-in after all, recovering it just before sicheng insisted that you guys were to move. letting go on the deep breath that was imprisoned in your throat for what seemed like an hour, you slowly began to dial in the number.

“hello?” a familiar deep voice rumbled.

“hi,” you managed to squeak out and you gave chenle the middle finger when you caught him snickering. “i’m looking for yukhei.”

you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “this is him. who’s calling?”

“um, y/n.” you wedged the phone in between the side of your cheek and your shoulder, unconsciously beginning twirling a loose strand of hair.

there was a pause on the other line and you weren’t sure what to make of it, possibly disbelief. “oh. hi, sweets.” yukhei chuckled. “i see you’ve decided to give me a chance.”

“does this mean the notes are gonna stop?” you teased, but deep inside, you were hoping the answer was going to be a no.

he simply replied, “’course not. unless you say the word.” there was some fiddling on the other end and you could’ve sworn you heard the sound of a lighter. “when are you free?”

“you askin’ me out, yukhei?” you giggled and chenle rolled his eyes at you, throwing a pillow in your direction. you covered the phone with one hand, telling him to fuck off, before sweetly bringing it back up to your ear.

“how’s friday?” the male exhaled a little loudly—was he smoking, too? you wanted to feel a little bit powerful, so you convinced yourself that it was out of nerves.

you responded a little bit too quickly. “yes. friday sounds good.” swallowing down the realization, you proceeded to give him your address.

“good,” yukhei repeated after you, slowly drawing out the word like molasses. “i’ll pick you up at eight. see you then, sweets.”

the call ended and you sat as still as a statue. closing your eyes, you lost yourself in the daze of smoke and the thought of yukhei. were your ears ringing? the faint hum and static of the television faded out, as you leaned back into the couch with a stupid smile playing at the corners of your lips.

someone cleared their throat. you cracked one eye open and lo and behold, chenle was looking at you like you were a lunatic. in that split second, your face dropped back into annoyance and you hurled the nearest cushion in his direction.

“hey!”

“what?” you snapped.

chenle continued his earlier snickering. “guess that went well, then, huh? i told ya so.”

you put out the joint in front of you and proceeded to bury your face into your hands. your state of disbelief felt permanent, like you were stained with the thoughts of wong yukhei forever. without a word of warning, you began to screech uncontrollably and the younger male nearly jumped out of his seat.

“ahh!! what the fuck, y/n?!” chenle heaved, holding his hand on his heart like he’d been shot. he accidentally knocked over the bag of pretzels that he’d been munching on, spilling it all over the carpet. normally, you would have freaked out over the mess, but you were too entranced in the fact that you had a date with the most handsome boy in school.

that’s when chenle knew you were either: possessed or completely smitten.

the grin on your face was so wide that it hurt, but you blocked out the pain. “we have a date!” with that, you nearly jumped onto the armchair and hauled chenle in a bone crushing hug that left him without any oxygen.

“can’t. . .breathe. . .” he was blue in the face at this point, struggling to even get his words out.

you giggled and released him, patting his cheek as he did so. chenle gasped dramatically for air, coughing as he did so. he shot you a glare.

“so, when’s the day of this stupid date?” he grumbled, settling back into his spot and began picking up his mess.

returning to the couch, you said, “friday. he said he’s going to pick me up.” you once saw that chevy of his as the devil machine, but now, you were swooning at the thought of it pulling up in front of your house.

“friday?” chenle’s eyebrows suddenly reached his hairline.

you gave him a questioning look. “yeah, it’s a little soon, but—”

“no, no,” he shook his head. “it’s not that. uhh, don’t you remember what’s happening on friday?”

you began to search your brain for any important dates, like a test or a birthday that you should’ve jotted down. “huh?” you came up empty and tilted your head slightly to the side.

“that’s prom night, stupid.”

if you hadn’t been hit with a ton of bricks before, this was an entire goddamn building raining down on you. wong yukhei had not only chased you with love poems and asked you out on a date, but he had asked you out to prom. this was really happening.

you didn’t give a damn about prom night, but you knew what it meant to other girls and it seemed like you just won a year long race between the class of seniors itching to get their hands on yukhei.

he wasn’t the only reason for your disbelief, but it was also the fact that you managed to get roped into attending prom anyway, after months of complaining about it. you groaned, lying down on the couch. this meant you had to go out and buy a freakin’ dress.

my love,

there are two times in my life when i was left absolutely breathless. the first time was when i first met you and i mean really met you. i always knew you in my heart. we were about fifteen when you moved to this town, this town that i’d grown to resent all of my life. i associated these streets with violence and hatred and i wanted nothing more to get away as fast as possible. i was hanging out with ten, loitering at the ice cream place, while i waited for his shift to end. that’s when you came in and you asked me about what flavour was best. i had a crush on you ever since that day, but could never seem to work up the courage to approach you first. yeah, i’m a fucking idiot, i know. i had those other girls following me around, but i could never quite shake off that feeling of, well, you. i’d never felt so damn. . .shy? when a girl made me feel that way, i knew you were special.

the second time was on prom night.

"ah, ah, don’t open that yet.”

you pouted and put the note back in its place, nestled in between the dozen of peonys. they were the colour of the sunset, a soft peach that brought butterflies to your insides. when yukhei had arrived to your front door with these, you nearly gasped out loud because they were so stunning.

the colour was identical to the sky above, as the clouds faded into one another and touches of navy loomed at the base of the point where the land met the heavens. yukhei’s windows were rolled all the way down and you let the wind penetrate against your being, caressing the locks of your curled hair. you’d applied an absurd amount of hairspray to keep it that way, so you weren’t concerned about the wind ruining the style.

yukhei glanced over to your side. “you can open it at the end of the night. promise.” the more you saw him smile, the more charming it became each time.

when the two of you pulled into the school parking lot, you immediately spotted kunhang and his scratched plymouth. he was leaning against the hood, sweet talking his date, some girl named meixiu that you didn’t know. probably an underclassman, you had no idea. he waved at you and probably just you, as you failed to miss the way his upper lip slightly twitched when yukhei exited his vehicle.

kunhang was the only person you guys were meeting, since both of your friend groups consisted of drop outs. you gave a polite wave to meixiu and gave kunhang a quick side hug. meanwhile, he and yukhei exchanged curt nods, as the parking lot began to reek of testosterone from the stares between the two alone.

“nice threads,” meixiu broke the silence, peering at your dress.

thankfully, you rummaged far enough into the last of your sister’s things that she left behind before moving out and came out with something decent. it was a boatneck satin dress with an empire waist and went down to just above your ankles. under the glare of the sunset, its baby blue hue contrasted beautifully. definitely pretty and saved you money and time. considering your lack of female friends, it would have been a real pain in the ass to have to drag either sicheng or chenle to a boutique.

“thank you,” you smiled at meixiu.

when you opened the door to greet yukhei, he had looked like someone just slapped him. he looked absolutely stunned and began drinking in the way you had dressed up, like an angel appeared in front of him and breathed the word of god. you were just as stunned when you were met with his put together appearance. you always had a soft spot for a tuff leather jacket and calloused hands, but seeing yukhei in a tuxedo made you rethink your preferences.

“wow,” the two of you had sputtered out at the same time and after a pause, began to laugh together.

meanwhile, kunhang merely blinked at your appearance. “turns out you’re a woman after all.” he yelped when you smacked his arm for that comment. “what? just because you walk around in a miniskirt doesn’t mean you’re a lady—” you hit him again.

“a pretty damn fine one at that,” yukhei snaked an arm around your waist and you relaxed slightly. “ready to head in?”

that baby blue dress. the way you lost yourself in the music on the dancefloor without a care in the world. my god, i wish i could capture that memory in my mind forever. i was still so goddamn shy and the only way i could express my feelings was through letters. some things never change, huh?

yours truly, yukhei.

the rest of your night was just as you imagined it would turn out. some lame music, bad refreshments, and glares from literally every girl on the dancefloor when they saw who you arrived with. all eyes were on the two of you when you walked in through the doors, though you knew it was partly out of curiosity to see who wong yukhei would bring to prom.

suddenly, you were beginning to be treated different. guys you’d never spoken to for four years cornered you into conversations that you had no interest in. girls complimented your dress and not in the way meixiu did, but like panthers sneaking up to stalk their prey. you nearly finished the contents of yukhei’s hidden flask out of annoyance.

“easy there, sweets,” he said, eyes wide when you slipped him his almost empty flask.

you laughed a bit. “sorry. i’m just slowly starting to get tired.”

“sleepy?” he asked, brushing a stray curl of hair out of your face.

the two of you were leaning on a wall, silently bopping your heads to the tune of the bluesy guitar playing throughout the school gymnasium. yukhei, you discovered, was a really good dancer. although shy at first, the majority of your night was spent on the dancefloor. you were sure you picked up on a few of his moves, even. you teased him about it on your way to the back, after he declared that he was parched.

“no, not that kind of tired. i mean, like—” you gave a quick side glance to a group of girls to your left that had been glaring in your direction all night,“—tired of that.”

it wasn’t as though you were overly concerned with the other girls, but it was really starting to get on your nerves.

“then, let’s get out of here?”

sure, the night was still young, but something twinkled in yukhei’s eyes and you knew that the date was far from over. you looked over at the crowd, not being able to find kunhang. he’d live if you didn’t tell him a goodbye. you shrugged and tapped your nails against your clutch.

“get out here, where?” you asked reluctantly, wincing as you did so. the last thing you wanted to do in that moment was make an assumption, but you also wanted to set clear boundaries before the night went on.

yukhei raised his eyebrows. “i mean, like, we could go grab a burger or somethin’. i’m starving.” he chuckled, but you smiled at his response.

“alright. i’m good with that.”

you didn’t even notice yukhei grabbing your head and lacing your fingers with his own—it just felt so natural. he gently led you back to the main entrance and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles ever so slightly flexed underneath his suit and the way he styled his hair into perfect swirls with gel and the crystal clear confidence in his eyes and—

“oh, ho, so you ended up working up the nerve to ask y/n out after all?” there was no mistake about it, that voice belonged to your old history teacher. it was the voice you heard in your nightmares, after all. “gimme some skin, yukhei!”

the old man sat in front of the entrance, where the tickets had been checked at the beginning of the night. presumably to catch any drunk teenagers stumbling out of the gymnasium, he was the only chaperone outside of the main floor.

you furrowed your eyebrows together. yukhei awkwardly shook hands with the teacher. then, you remembered what yukhei had told you before when he gave you a ride to school. your lips parted slightly.

“you stole away one of my favourite students, you know that, ms. y/n?” he continued.

turning to yukhei, whose ears began to transform into a brilliant bubblegum colour, you said, “you weren’t joking about that?”

“why would i be joking?” yukhei chuckled.

you paused and shrugged. “i dunno. i thought it was just one of them cheesy things guys say. like you were just trying to make me swoon or somethin’.”

“what? aw, c’mon, sweets, i can do better than that!” yukhei exclaimed and poked your side, causing you to giggle and yelp.

your old history teacher rolled your eyes at the two of you. “just go on, go home!” he began shooing the two of you away like some puppies.

yukhei continued leading you out of the building, only until you stopped in the middle of the parking lot when you heard a familiar song. it was unmistakable, you would have recognized the record from miles away. he froze, noticing the way you had done the same.

“are you alright?” he stepped forward, reaching out to touch your arm.

you felt a little silly, but you said it anyway. “they’re playing my favourite song. you think we could. . .?” you trailed off, hoping he would agree.

there wasn’t a guy you knew that absolutely detested the beach boys. sicheng whined like he was in pain every time you put one of their records one. you had to basically hide all of their music from your brother, taking them away from the main living room shelf in fear that he would eventually trash them one day. yukhei pressed his lips together, listening to the song—clearly he was no exception.

“you’re into these fools, too?” he teased.

yukhei began stripping himself of his suit jacket, placing it over your shoulders and you immediately revelled in the warmth and faint scent of his cologne on the fabric. the night had fully set in and a dull chill kissed your bare skin. under the moonlight, the man looked immaculate.

you scoffed. “they have good music!” and that they did, but it was something about the group that made you sway in place and felt like you were high on love.

“why don’t we just dance here?”

the parking lot was empty save for the two of you and the countless of cars. even the streets were dead silent and the only sounds in the air were the beach boys telling you to not worry and the soft rustling of the leaves. then, there was yukhei. his same damn charming smirk that seemed to have already captured your heart, but was not nearly as powerful as the thoughts he spilled out into words for you on paper.

you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands found a place on your waist, like the two of you had done this millions of time before in another life.

dear y/n,

you are the stars.

yukhei.

#neowritingsnet #neowriters #nct-writers #nct fic #lucas x reader #nct au #nct imagine #wayv imagines #lucas imagine #yukhei x reader #wayv x reader #wayv fanfic #nct scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop au #— EIGHTEEN FOREVER .#i had to repost ughh

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yet-another-fan-girl9 · 4 years ago

Text

Inhuman (4)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 3 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~4000

“Captain.” Loki strode up to him. “I need to speak to you. Alone,” he added when he spotted his brother linger by the doorway. “It’s about (Y/N).”

The blond supersoldier turned to look at Loki. “How did you know her name?”

“I know everything about her. Or, I knew everything. She is— was my soulmate.”

“S-soulmate? Those things are real?”

“Midgardians are the only ones in the nine realms that don’t have soulmates. For a long time, I believed that I did not have a soulmate. It wasn’t until 1513 I felt the connection.”

“1513?” Steve stared at him. “So she’s even older than I thought.”

“Yes, she was the queen for a time. I thought she had died even before the date in the history books.”

“This is a lot of information, Loki.” He sat down. “A queen? Queen… (Y/N)? You expect me to believe that Queen (Y/N), one of the infamous Tudors, Queen of England is still alive and became a hitman?”

“It’s hard for me to believe it as well. Trust me, when I came to the conclusion that it was her, that she was alive…” he drifted off.

“Thank you for telling me. This information will be important in trying to track this organization down. Maybe you should tell this to everyone else?”

“No, I would rather not participate in one of your little presentations.” Loki turned and strode out of the room, leaving Steve to process everything.

[New York, New York, May 2024]

It had been a couple of months since you had been to the Avengers compound and there had been no sign of the superheroes. You were getting bored, though it wasn’t the longest you had been on hitwoman hiatus. Surprisingly, Max wasn’t in the same mood as you. He and Liam were having a jolly good time galavanting around the city or whatever young couples did these days.

You sat at your kitchen counter reading your emails. There were plenty of job offers you could take. Should you resume taking them? What if one was a trap set by the Avengers? It wasn’t like you were going to run out of resources any time soon but you were bored goddamn it.

Alright, just a simple, quiet job. One that you could do on your own. This one seemed inconspicuous. Fifteen thousand for making a woman’s unfaithful, abusive husband look like he committed suicide. You always would help someone in a bad situation and she even offered a down payment of five thousand. Just in case of a worst-case situation, you sent Max your plan.

I’m going out on a small job. If I’m not back by tomorrow at noon, you know what to do.

After you had the little excursion at the Avenger’s compound, you had sent out a step by step list of what to do if someone was compromised by the heroes. You appreciated what they did, as long as they stayed away from you and your employees. You couldn’t let them dismantle your small empire after over a hundred years. Yes, you killed for a living, but sometimes it’s for good.

Like right now, you sat in your black Lambo by Mrs. Davis’ apartment, preparing to kill her husband. You got out and smoothed down your white blouse that was paired with some ripped jeans. Your boots sent soft echoes down the empty street. You made your way to the front door and rang the unpleasant sounding doorbell.

“Hello, are you Mr. Davis?” you asked when the door opened to reveal a tall, blond man. You leaned against the doorframe and looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Yes, who’s asking?” Although the question was defensive, his tone was suggestive.

“Oh, I heard about you from my friend.” You twirled your hair around your finger. “I was wondering if your wife was home?”

“Fortunately, she is not. Come in, come in.”

You followed the man into the apartment, disgusted by how quickly he had let you in. You walked past a framed photo of the Davises at their wedding. Does the fucker make all of his mistresses walk past the photo? While you strode down the hallway, you slipped on a pair of leather gloves. He led you directly to the bedroom.

Well, no use in waiting. You pulled a gun out of your jeans and when the man turned around, you pressed it to his temple. A breath hitched in his throat and he raised his arms.

“I need you to write something for me,” you sneered. He nodded and grabbed a notepad from the bedside table. You stayed behind him, the threat of the gun always in the back of his mind. “You’re going to confess to everything. Hurting your wife. Cheating. Everything bad.” He complied and fortunately, his hand didn’t shake much. He was left handed, you noticed as you read the note from over his shoulder. “Tell them you feel guilty. So fucking guilty you couldn’t live with yourself.”

When he signed the note, you tore it off and put it somewhere blood wouldn’t stain it. Mr. Davis was shaking like a leaf while you stood to his left and raised your gun to his head again. At least he wasn’t pleading for his life. He wasn’t on his knees, groveling. Without warning, you pulled the trigger.

The man’s blood and brains coated the bedroom wall as he crumpled to the ground. The loud bang of the gun rang in your ears. More blood spilled from the bullet holes in his skull and you watched it seep into the carpet. You placed the gun in Mr. Davis’ left hand and wrapped his fingers around the handle. Then you placed the note on the bed.

No white rose today, you were certain the Avengers were keeping an eye out for them, but you still took a picture to send to the newly widowed Mrs. Davis. You quickly left the apartment, people would have heard the gun go off, and made your way to your car. You could hear the sirens in the distance as you drove away.

🌹

“Something’s happening!”

Everyone rushed into the room to see all of the screens flashing. A typical radar screen with a large blinking dot. Stark had mimicked the technology from the ship Loki had stolen from the Grandmaster and combined it with his own. What resulted was a powerful, as well as specific, radar system.

“What the?” Thor mumbled and looked at the numbers on another screen. “I recognize these signatures but I just can’t place them.”

Brunnhilde and Loki pushed their way to the front.

“I suppose they do look a little familiar.” Loki shrugged and Brunnhilde nodded her agreement.

“Hey, for the idiots back here,” Barton said from the back, “you guys want to tell us what the fuck’s going on?”

“The radar is picking up a surge of energy,” Stark pointed at the dot. “A big surge of energy based on the numbers.”

“Shouldn’t we be doing something about them?” Steve asked.

“Here’s the thing.” Stark pushed his way through the small crowd and stopped at another screen. “This one is scanning up and it keeps picking up something. Never long enough to get a good reading. Most likely it’s a ship using a cloaking mechanism. Woah, what the fuck? Something’s coming down.”

“I remember now,” Thor cut in and everyone turned to him expectantly.

“Well, get on with it,” Steve prompted.

“Yeah, do we need to suit up?” Nat added.

“Yes.” Thor looked at Loki. “The Kree are here.”

🌹

You were about thirty minutes away from your penthouse, taking unpopulated back roads, when you noticed something in the night sky. It looked like a large meteor and it looked like it was headed right toward you. Fast.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself and stepped on the gas. Your head hit the head rest as your car was propelled forward.

Moments later, the meteor hit the spot your car had just vacated. The resounding explosion caused you to lose control of your car that was going very fast. Fortunately, it stopped quickly. Unfortunately, it was stopped by a brick wall.

“Motherfucker.”

Your head ached and when you gingerly felt around, your hand came away stained with red. More blood dripped from your nose onto the airbag and it felt like your upper arm was broken. You could already feel the small cuts from broken glass heal, and it wouldn’t take long for your bone to snap back in place, but definitely not fast enough.

You had heard that you shouldn’t get out of a crashed car unless it was going to blow but that advice was for normal people. You didn’t want to stay stuck in your car. Unbuckling your seatbelt was hardest, especially with your arm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. Motherfucker!”

Of fucking course the fucking door couldn’t fucking open all the way. You were able to do some maneuvering to pull yourself out of the hole in the wall but it included a lot more swearing. The fires from the meteor had settled and you realized that it wasn’t a meteor at all. It was some kind of pod that had fallen to Earth.

Two large figures emerged from the burning ship. In the light of the fires, you saw their metal staffs and blue skin. They wore gold on their dark cloaks and around their jaws. You were curious but you also knew that their intentions weren’t going to be good. The Avengers had probably been notified as well and you really couldn’t deal with them right now.

“INHUMAN!” one of them roared and they both pointed their weapons at you.

Then it all clicked. Blue angels that fell from the heavens to Earth. Called the Kree.

“Kree,” you responded much to their shock. “What do you want?”

“You. The Inhumans. We are here for our projects. Only the best will be brought back to Hala. The rest will be terminated.”

“Thanks for the warning.” You back up as inconspicuous as you could, cradling your arm. “How do you choose who lives and who dies?”

To answer your question, one of the Kree activated something on his metal vambrace. A holographic screen popped up and a bright yellow light scanned you.

“Species: Inhuman,” a male voice reached your ears. “Abilities: enhanced human body, strength, healing—”

“Yeah the list goes on and on,” you said. There should be an alley you could escape through somewhere.

“—combat, memory, and speed. Threat: high.”

“You’re coming with us.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

You reached the alley and ran down it as fast as you could. Everytime your arm moved strangely, you winced. You had no plan. No idea where to go once you got to the end of the alley.

But you didn’t have to worry about that because you never made it out. Your legs were swept out from under you and your back hit the pavement. While you struggled to get breath back into your lungs, one of the Kree appeared and loomed above you. He didn’t smile but his eyes held victory. Then he grabbed your leg and pulled you back towards the crash.

“W-where’s your pal?” you said once you could speak. He didn’t respond but he did drop your leg when you reached the pod.

Taking the chance, you struggled to your feet. Run or fight? You had already tried to run and he had reached you before you got far. Fighting was going to hurt but it was the only option you had left. You needed a plan. The glint of the Kree’s weapon caught your eye. It was a terrible plan, but it was a plan. Fuck it.

Your knife came out of your boot right as the Kree turned to face you. With your injured arm, you swung your knife at his face. It barely scratched his face and he tried to raise his own weapon but he discovered that your other arm held it down. You tried to stab the hand holding the weapon, which looked more like an axe than you realized, but he grabbed your broken arm.

You suppressed a scream, but dropped your knife. He pushed you hard and you stumbled backwards a few steps. The Kree swung his axe at you and the pointed tip cut through your blouse and grazed your chest. You moved forward, dodging the next swing with your eyes on your knife. When you got close enough, he grabbed your wrist and began to squeeze. You could feel the bones start to groan under his grasp.

He went to sweep your legs with his own leg again but this time you jumped forward and used his own momentum against him. He fell on his back with you over him. You grabbed your knife off of the ground and he growled when you brought it down on his wrist. The weapon clattered to the pavement.

The Kree flipped around and wrapped his thick hands around your neck. He lifted you off the ground a few inches before slamming your head back onto the hard ground. Combined with the head injury from the car crash and the lack of oxygen, black spots began to cloud your vision.

You brought your knee up to his crotch and his grip lessened but only slightly. You moved the knife around in his wrist and reached for the axe with the other. Your fingers wrapped around the cold metal and before the Kree could realize you were armed, you plunged the weapon into his side. You pushed him over and pulled out the axe. Its blade was stained blue instead of red.

“Inhuman scum,” he spat.

Movement in the sky caught your attention and you saw more pods falling in the distance.

“How many of you are there?” you asked and pointed the axe at his face.

“You will lose.”

Something pulled your attention away from the Kree. Sirens and shouts came from the next street over. You were able to feel Loki through your pain. You were able to pick out Steve Roger’s commanding voice in the noise. The Avengers have arrived to save the day. You raised the axe over your head and cleanly separated the Kree’s body from his head. You felt the now familiar tugging grow stronger.

You escaped away from the heroes and Loki with the axe grasped firmly in your hand. It took some pain to fish the burner phone out of your back pocket and despite it almost falling apart in your hand, you were able to call Max.

“Hello?”

“Max, thank God—”

“Hey, girl. Liam, it’s (Y/N).”

“Hi (Y/N).” Liam’s voice came through the phone.

“Hi. We have a problem. A really big fucking problem. I bet it’s on the news, but the fucking Kree are here.”

“Kree? Like from the stories? Blue angels and shit?”

“Yes, I need you to come pick me up at the Battery. Now, please. A couple of ‘em caused me to crash my car—”

“Not the black Lambo?” he whined.

“Yeah, the black Lambo. Anyways, have Liam spread the word to really get underground. Also if they stick to groups, it’ll be easier to take down the Kree.”

“Wait, what do they want?” You heard the couple moving around and keys jingling.

“To bring the strongest Inhumans back to their planet and kill the rest.”

“Damn, okay, we’ll be there soon.” The line went dead.

You stood on the sidewalk, watching the pods fall. The gash in your forehead from the crash was healed and the pain in your arm was definitely less intense than before. You looked at the cut on your chest and realized that it was still bleeding lightly. It was a thin cut, just a graze but it hadn’t healed yet.

Goddamn it, the Kree’s weapons were made from fucking vibranium.

🌹

He had felt her, but she was nowhere to be found. Loki surveyed the scene before him. The first thing he noticed was the Kree pod that had created a small crater in the middle of the street. Then there was the car halfway through a brick wall. A decapitated Kree lay on the ground. Oh, and it seemed like every fucking thing was on fire. At least there were no crowds.

“It looks like more pods are coming,” Steve looked at the sky. “We should cut them off before they get too far.”

“These are Kree Reapers.” Loki examined the armor. “Stronger than regular Kree. They’re savages. Hunters.” Which makes the fact that she was able to kill one that much more impressive.

“Alright.” Thor nodded and glared at the corpse. “Let’s get these guys out of the sky.” He and the others that could fly took off towards the pods.

“She was here,” Loki said to Steve, not letting the others hear. “But she was gone by the time we arrived.”

“You could… sense her?” Steve responded.

“Yes. We used to have another connection, a telepathic connection. All soulmates have them, but for some reason ours broke a long time ago.”

“Hey boys,” Romanoff called. “Doesn’t this knife look familiar?” She removed a knife that had been lodged into the Kree’s wrist.

“It looks like the one we found in the Senator’s bodyguard which means that she was here,” Barnes concluded.

“Where’s his weapon?” Brunnhilde looked around. “It was probably used to decapitate him.”

“Are there any cameras on this street?” Steve asked and checked the buildings.

“Nope,” Romanoff shrugged. “But Bucky and I can probably figure out what happened. We’ve been to a lot of scenes like this.”

“I’m guessing the crash of the pod caused her to crash her car into the wall,” Barnes guessed and walked over to the wrecked car. “There’s some blood on the airbag but I can’t tell the extent of the injuries.”

“The most common car accident injuries are broken bones in the legs and arms as well as whiplash and other head injuries,” Romanoff supplied.

“She was able to defeat a Kree Reaper even with the injuries she had sustained,” Loki pointed out. “And based on the fact that she disappeared before we arrived, her legs are uninjured.”

“It looks like the pods have room for two of these large shitheads,” Brunnhilde reported. “There’s only one dead bastard, so where’s the other one?”

“Are you guys done there?” Stark’s voice crackled in everyone’s ears. “We need some back up. Now!”

“On our way.”

🌹

“You look like shit,” Max said when you collapsed in his backseat.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” you groaned. Your back was bruised from the multiple times you were slammed to the ground and your head was throbbing.

“Need help patching yourself up?” Liam handed you a first aid kit from the front.

“I’ve got it.” You needed to get all of this blood off of you. “Thanks, though. Maybe I should replace Max with you.”

“You wouldn’t,” your right hand man gasped. “What’s with the… spear? Axe?”

“Both, kinda. It belonged to the Kree before I cut off its head.”

“So they want to kill us all?”

“Only the weak ones. The ones they find useful I guess they’ll turn us into warriors back on their home planet.”

“I wonder what I’d be classified as,” Max hummed.

“Trust me, you don’t want to be close enough where they can scan you because you’ll be close enough for them to kill you. Easily.”

When you finally pulled into the lot under your penthouse it felt like you released a breath you were holding. Your head injuries were gone and your arm should be back to normal in fifteen minutes. Even though you were physically healed, you were exhausted.

You made it through a soothing shower before you pulled on your favorite silk pajamas and collapsed into bed.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.” It had been twenty days since your father had died and today he was going to be put to rest. “Are you sure?”

“You are my friend. I would do anything for you.” Agnes secured the jewels around your neck. “You are also my Queen. I have to do what you tell me.”

“Even if it means your death?”

Sunlight streamed through the curtains and you rubbed your eyes. Your phone told you that it was almost eleven thirty in the morning. You sat up in bed and stretched your arms over your head. Everything felt normal and you didn’t feel sore at all. You examined the thin cut on your chest. It had scabbed over and probably wouldn’t leave a scar.

The weight of last night’s events crashed down on you. The Kree were going to be a huge problem. You needed to keep your people safe. When Afterlife fell, your organization became the largest group of Inhumans. When you reached the kitchen it took you a moment to register the two men sitting at your counter.

“You’re still here.”

“Of course,” Max said and handed you a cup of coffee. “You were looking pretty rough last night.”

“We have a lot of work ahead of us.” You looked back and forth between Max and Liam to ensure they were willing to join you.

“You’ll need all the help you can get,” Liam confirmed.

“Yeah, we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“What are you hinting at, Max?” You raised an eyebrow.

“The Avengers!”

“No.”

“Come on. Just think about it.”

“So do you think we should gather everyone and fight or disperse and hide?” You ignored Max and looked at Liam.

“Maybe gather and hide like you said last night? We shouldn’t go looking for a fight. Especially with these guys.”

“(Y/N), the Avengers might be able to help.”

“You got the word out right? I want to hear from everyone periodically.”

“Yeah, the word’s out. I hope you don’t mind, but Izzy’s coming here to bunker down with us.”

“It’s fine I have plenty of space.”

Izzy arrived at two and settled into one of your guest rooms.

“So Max texted me and tried to make me make you go to the Avengers.”

“Of fucking course he did. You can just ignore him.”

The four of you ate Chinese takeout for dinner. The whole day, you had been contacting other Inhumans warning them of the Kree threat. According to the few contacts you had in Europe and Asia, only one pod landed in Russia. They had quickly taken care of that. None landed in Australia or Africa. You didn’t know how fast the Kree would move south, though.

“I think,” Max began. “That you and the Avengers can exchange information.”

“Max when will you drop this?”

“Never.”

“I think they can help too.”

“Izzy, not you.”

“Just hear me out.” She held up her hands. “I don’t know your history with them, but they did manage to eliminate a few of them last night. And a few of them know more about the Kree than we do.”

Max nodded and raised his eyebrows. You looked at Liam for backup but he just shrugged and then fed his boyfriend some orange chicken.

“It’s three against one,” Liam smirked.

“No.”

🌹

There was something in the room. The AI had called everyone to the living room for a meeting. Loki had thought it was a strange place to meet but at least the seating was more comfortable there. Something was close. He settled down on the chair that was distanced from the rest.

Only two members of the team had gotten seriously injured during the fight with the Kree. Wilson had been knocked out of the sky which resulted in multiple broken bones. The Maximoff girl had been knocked unconscious after she had been hit by seemingly hundreds of lasers. She still hasn’t woken up.

Everyone was certainly still in rough condition, even twenty-four hours later. Morale wasn’t very high either. The majority of the Kree Reapers had escaped.

“Why the fuck are we meeting here?” Stark asked when he spread out on a couch.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Steve said. “I thought you called us here.”

“I thought you called us here.”

“You may be wondering why I summoned you all here.” Four figures emerged from the shadows.

Tags: @kaithehero @liliannyah @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury @aberrant-annie @simplybree @adalina-perez @emage-king @yandereforyou @notactiveonmain @tvdplusriverdale

#inhuman #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki moodboard #loki #steve rogers #Captain america #kree #marvel #mcu

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secondhand-trash · 4 years ago

Note

LET'S SEE......... first of all !!! historical au (any period/era of your choice) & secondly, matchmaking :3

Historical au

How like am I to write it?

Idk IDK. Ideologically I would love to but I can already see myself doing extensive research on unimportant details like what buttons people use in that specific year and then proceed to twist things around for my convenience when it comes to the big picture and I just... I’ll kill myself if I notice any outrageous historical inaccuracies later BUT ITS ALSO IMPOSSIBLE TO BE HISTORICALLY ACCURATE BECAUSE HISTORICAL ACCURACY IS NOT FEASIBLE🙃I have many plans to do history inspired fantasy and ngl I still really want to write something that is set in an ancient harem and involve palace politics but... history is a fucking mess I’m not sure how much I want to keep and how much I can let go, maybe a 4/10 lolol

What character(s) I’d most likely write it for?

Akaashi. I’ve said this so many times but I have a 貴妃!Akaashi idea (how do I explain 貴妃 in English like the emperor’s concubine but with more power and higher status) that I never got around to write but I’m holding onto like a dragon with its hoard. He’s just perfect, perfect looks perfect vibes.

Matchmaking

How likely am I to write it?

Are we the matchmaker or are we getting matched?lol I don’t think I’ve ever thought about this trope before ngl🤔again, I can see a lot of potential for chaos and comedy so maybe I’ll do a 5/10, if I ever come up with something I’d definitely do it lol

What character(s) I’d most likely write it for?

Again, are they the matchmaker or are they getting matched with us?🤔itd be cool if it’s like multiple characters and it’s open ended tho so maybe that’s my answer kek

(Send me a trope and I’ll tell you how likely I’d write it)

#ask game #cadence rambles #dimplesum #frens #also low-key wanna do like #pick your own story but you’re the emperor/emperess and you pick who’s palace to stay at for the night #I read extensively into harem politics and drama back when I was a kid and I still read

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

Text

Starstruck: Part 4

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 4 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 3 / Part 5

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies:

Brian did not live just down the road from Freddie, at least not in 1975, as far as I’m aware :)

Word Count: 7k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The next morning, Sunday, you woke up in a sunny mood, which was a great contrast to the melancholy of the previous morning. Maybe it was because you’d actually been able to fall asleep last night. Or maybe your dreams had been better, or something. You didn’t quite know, but it was a lovely feeling to sit up in your bed and breathe in the morning air contentedly.

The air this morning smelled of rain, and looking out the window, you could see that your senses had not betrayed you; your mood may have been sunny, but the ground outside was dark with water. Droplets of rain pattered against the roof of your building and the neighbouring ones.

You had the impression that you’d slept in, and your alarm clock confirmed your suspicions, reading 10:37, midmorning.

Throwing off your covers, you looked over to see if Heather was still wrapped up in her usual cocoon of blankets. But you quickly remembered, with a smirk, that she was presently sleeping at Roger’s, though the amount of rest they actually got was up for debate.

“Y/N? Are you up yet?” It was one of your other housemates, Kate, wrapping on your door.

“Yeah, I’m up!”

“Can I come in?” asked Kate.

You glanced at your navy blue pyjamas. Decent enough. “Yeah.”

“Sorry,” said Kate as the door opened to reveal the small girl with her mousy brown hair and gentle manner. “I’ve got a Freddie, uh, Mercury on the phone for you?”

You smiled. Some day, one day, no one would stumble over that name. It would be as commonplace as John Lennon or Frida Kahlo.

“Sorry, I’m not sure why he called the house phone. I told him my extension. I’ll be right there.”

Kate waved a hand. “It’s fine. Men, right?”

Your smile grew wider. “Not what you’re thinking, Katie.”

Kate crossed her thin arms. “So he’s not the reason why you’re suddenly acting like a morning person?”

“Ha! No. I’ve known Freddie for years, and no one, not even him with his energy, is going to make me into a morning person.”

“Okay, then,” said Kate, but her tone was still dubious. “Your unusually good mood shall remain a mystery… Phone in the kitchen.” She disappeared down the hall.

In the kitchen, you picked up the receiver, absently winding the coiled cord around your fingers. “Freddie?”

“Y/N, darling?”

“This is she.”

“Whyever have you just gotten up? Your musical education is going to take effort, you know.”

“Really, Freddie,” you said. “It’s only ten in the morning.”

“Half-past ten,” Freddie sniffed. “I’d like my records back, and I’d like you to take some of my other ones in exchange.”

“Oh, yes,” you remembered. “Though I still don’t see why you’re calling this early. We never discussed a day or time.”

“Now’s as good as any, dearie. Get dressed and skip on down to my flat, will you?”

“How did you know I was still in my pyjamas?”

“Intuition. Just hurry up. I’m bored,” said Freddie and you heard him put down the phone with a click.

“Ridiculous,” you told the silent line, putting down your own phone. You shuffled back down the corridor to your room to change so that you could gobble a slice of toast, down a cup of tea, and be on your way before the impatient Mr. Mercury tipped over the edge.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You had taken the tube as per usual, and were glad of your raincoat, umbrella, and wellies, because the streets of London were a puddled mess and the sky remained tearful and grey as ever.

Leaving Kensington station, you pulled your hood over your head, because the rain was really so aggressive now that the umbrella simply was not enough on its own.

Halfway to Freddie’s place, you noticed a miserable soul across the street from you.

The fellow had neither rain-suited shoes nor an umbrella, only a velvety jacket that clung, drenched, to his skin in the same manner that his curls were matted to his forehead— wait a second…

“Brian!”

He raised his poodle-y head toward the sound of your voice, his face and gait nearly as dreary as the weather he walked in, but his posture improved greatly as he spotted you.

“Y/N!” he said happily.

Scanning for cars, you found the street clear and hurried across, one hand pressed against the satchel in which you carried Queen’s records.

“Oh, you’re soaking,” you looked him up and down.

“I guess it’s just rain and I’m not made of sugar, but you’re not wrong.”

“That poor jacket has been through so much already,” you said, hoisting your umbrella higher so that its protective shield also extended to Brian, “what with keeping you warm in lieu of your scarf the other day. I still have that by the way. Oh, this isn’t really working, is it?” You frowned at the way the water still ran in rivulets down Bri’s face because your reach wasn’t far enough to hold the umbrella properly over his head.

“No, not particularly,” he said with faint amusement, brushing a raindrop from where it had splattered directly onto his eyelashes. He held out a hand for the umbrella. “Here, let me take that—”

“What? And let me get my lower half completely drenched?” You were joking, but he shook his head in earnest, little droplets of water flying from his hair in the process. You almost laughed; he really did look like a poodle now.

“Absolutely not. Take my arm.”

You blinked at him, not quite understanding how this was going to work out.

“Y/N,” he sighed, pulling the umbrella handle from your grip. He linked his left arm in your right, transferred the umbrella to his left hand, and used his right to place your hand on his forearm. “There,” he said cheerfully, with the pleased air of someone who had just completed an arduous task.

You rolled your eyes and began to walk along, your side nestled against his in a little pocket of warmth away from the coldness of the world.

“Where are you going, anyway?” you asked. “This is all good and well, but if you’re going in the opposite direction to me…”

“I was on my way to Freddie’s, actually, so if you’re not busy, maybe you’d like to join me for a bit?”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. No doubt Freddie had invited the both of you along at the same time, all part of his strange master plan to get the two of you to spend more time together.

“You know,” you said, “that’s precisely where I was going too.”

“Really?” said Brian. “How odd. Rather nice coincidence, though. Maybe you can give me some derivative pointers along the way,” he nudged your side with a grin.

“I’m beginning to think the only reason you keep me around is to leech off of my incredible brain power,” you sighed dramatically.

“Oh fuck.” He peered at you guiltily. “You’ve seen through me.”

“If there was a wall to push you off of, I would’ve made use of it by now,” you answered dryly.

“Honestly, Y/N,” Brian patted your hand with slender fingers. They felt like butterfly wings upon your skin. “I should be asking why you keep me around.”

You pushed him rightwards to prevent him from stepping into a rather deep puddle; it was clear his clogs weren’t made for this weather, though you doubted they made for fashion either.

“Thank you,” he murmured as you pulled him back to your side, having cleared the treacherous dip in the path.

You squeezed his arm. “Isn’t it obvious why I keep you around?”

“Hm?”

“For warmth, m’dear.”

His laughter tickled your rosy cheeks.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Why, hello darlings,” Freddie already held the door open as you left the main path for his little front garden. “You two look cosy.”

“Necessary evil,” you said, winking to Freddie.

“You don’t look cosy, Fred,” returned Brian, eyeing the rain that was angled by the roof so that it had begun to soak the floor just inside of Freddie’s flat.

Freddie shuddered. “No, and I don’t quite feel it either. Got another one of your favourite scarves to spare?”

You looked at Brian. “You lent me your favourite scarf? And it’s still winter! Have you got another one? You can have the rainbow one back on Thursday, I promise.”

But not even a whisper of Brian’s supposedly legendary temper rose at the fact that you had not returned a belonging of his. He was all nonchalance.

“You make me sound like a child. Of course I have another scarf, and I’m not in the slightest worried about getting the other one back. You don’t exactly strike me as a kleptomaniac,” he said.

“Helloooo?” Freddie waved at the two of you where you stood idly between his snowdrops and cyclamen. “Seeing as neither of you are willing to lend me a scarf, please get inside because it’s just too fucking cold out here.” Freddie disappeared into his house, leaving the door ajar for you and Brian.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Brian muttered and you stifled a laugh. “Go on in,” he said to you. “I’ll just shake out your umbrella.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that. My umbrella, y’know.”

“Which I so ungraciously borrowed. If you so covet the warmth as you say you do,” he spoke theatrically, “go inside and I’ll attend to the umbrella.”

Sliding your arm from his, it only felt right to bow your head in gratitude. It’s only right, it's only right. “My lord,” you said, joining in his dramatics.

His character nearly slipped; the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“My lady,” he answered with equal regality, and you followed the path Freddie had taken through the house.

You found Freddie in the living room where he resided often, reclined on a settee that afforded him as much nobility as any king or queen. Montserrat Caballé poured her heart out to you from the record player, and Freddie had his eyes closed as he listened to the music.

“Hiya—”

“Hush a moment.”

You snapped your mouth shut immediately.

Caballé’s voice reached a beautifully quavering crescendo, and Freddie mimed conducting.

You heard the front door close, and wooden footsteps before Brian’s voice behind you.

“He’s doing it again, isn’t he?” Bri whispered, standing awfully close to you. You didn’t mind his proximity, though; he radiated that undying warmth of his.

You nodded slowly, then assumed a low voice. “Here we see a Freddie in his natural habitat, frolicking amongst the opera singers and the royalty like a peacock, because essentially, that’s what he is.”

Brian snorted in laughter, and Freddie opened his eyes abruptly.

“You come into my house and you laugh at me,” he said.

“You, on the other hand, don’t even go to people’s houses,” Brian said. “You just laugh at them on the spot.”

Freddie pouted. “I hate you, you know.”

“You may hate me, but I’m not wrong,” Brian asserted, departing your side and selecting one of Freddie’s many armchairs to curl up in.

“Just another reason for me to hate you, Brimi,” Freddie replied easily. You could tell that this was a regular occurrence, the two of them snapping retorts at one another in good humour, though an outsider might have mistaken their bickering for actual disagreement. “Sit down, dearie,” Freddie addressed you, gesturing to the extensive options of sofa-like furniture housed in his living room.

You looked across the sea of overstuffed armchairs and patterned sofas slung with colourful crocheted blankets. None stood out to you in particular, until you saw a large wingback chair, upholstered in a deep blue velvet and accentuated by pins that were silver, like stars.

It was only an added bonus that it occupied the space beside the armchair Brian had cuddled into.

Making your choice, you slid into the chair, and Freddie, sitting across from you and Brian, smirked as though he were reading a book in which he understood the dramatic irony that you and Brian, as characters, did not.

Taking off your messenger bag, you remembered why you’d brought it with you.

“Records,” you said, standing. You made your way over to Freddie and handed him Queen’s records.

“Did she take good care of you?” Freddie asked the records.

“‘Course I did,” you said, returning to your chair. “Music is art, and who the hell is careless with art?”

“Did you hear that, Brian? She called us art!”

“Good taste,” Brian nodded at you.

You rolled your eyes. “The arrogance—”

“Confidence, darling,” Freddie corrected. “It’s confidence.”

Brian slipped off his clogs, tucking his socked feet beneath him where he sat. “Did you have any favourites? Song from our albums, I mean.”

You grimaced. “I don’t know that I can pick favourites. Everything you guys have written is just amazing. I’ve never heard anything like it,” you said honestly.

“Oh, indulge me,” said Brian. “Top six? Two from each album?”

It was lucky you’d memorised the tracklists by now. “Alright, then. But don’t murder me, either of you,” you cast them pointed looks.

“No promises,” came the chorused reply.

“It’s a wonder I am indulging you, Bri,” you mumbled.

“Start with the first album,” Freddie said giddily, as though he were opening presents instead of waiting for your opinion on his music.

“Okay…” You thought a moment about what songs had stood out to you. “‘The Night Comes Down’, and… ‘Son and Daughter’.”

Freddie eyed you peculiarly. Brian’s face remained neutral.

“Second album?” asked Freddie.

“‘Seven Seas of Rhye’, definitely—”

“Ha-HA!” said Freddie.

“—and ‘White Queen (As It Began)’.”

Freddie’s expression dampened, but it was now Brian’s turn to smile curiously. His fingers brushed the side of his nose.

“Third album?” said Freddie, tone dry.

You thought they were both being rather odd. “‘Brighton Rock’ and ‘Now I’m Here’,” you finished cautiously.

“Fuck if that’s it, darling.”

Brian burst into laughter.

“What?” you said finally.

Brian’s laughter turned into a sputter which then became a cough, and Freddie grumbled,

“It’s not funny, you prick.”

“What?!” you said again.

Brian continued coughing, patting his chest. At last, he took a proper breath. “All but one,” he said.

“All but one what?”

Brian smiled. “All but one of those are my songs. Fred’s just grumpy that only one of six was his.”

“You’re right I am,” said Freddie pettily. “The betrayal, Y/N!”

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m musically uneducated,” you quoted Freddie’s own words, and he perked up.

“Oh yes, obviously! Fantastical that I didn’t think of that before,” he said. “I think this is the perfect time at which to give you some other records.” He sprang up from his sofa and began rifling through his grand collection.

“Musically uneducated,” Brian scoffed. “Y/N, did I not just say you had good taste?”

“Shush,” commanded Freddie. “What Aretha Franklin record should I lend her?”

Brian sighed, then ambled over to help Freddie pick a record. “This one,” he said, selecting one from a crate. “And then that one,” he pulled another record from the midst.

“Ooh, good one,” Freddie agreed. “And then this one.”

Freddie approached you with three records. “There you are. Have them back in a week? We’re going to need rigour if we’re ever going to get you up to speed.”

“Okay, Freddie,” you said, accepting your fate. There was no use arguing that you already did listen to a variety of music.

In your hands you now held Lady Soul, Imagine, and Let It Bleed.

Tucking the records into your messenger bag, you asked the joking question you’d wanted to ask for days. “So, how was the pyjama party at Bri’s the other night? You know, the one you didn’t invite me to.”

Brian shook his head and Freddie sighed. “The brawl, which I’m sure Brian’s already told you all about, was the ticket to the party. No fight, no rest.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to no rest for the wicked?”

“I certainly didn’t get any sleep,” Brian broke in, “what with you lot repeatedly getting up during the night to raid my kitchen cupboards for painkillers.”

“You never sleep anyway,” Freddie shrugged. “And besides, fair is fair; you didn’t fight either.”

“Nor did you!” said Brian.

“Well, the fight was about me, so that counts,” Freddie asserted.

Brian blinked. “Does not.”

“Does too.”

“Here we go,” you said, to no one but yourself. And to a cat, it would appear. One of Freddie’s many pets had wandered into the living room to see what all the ruckus was about, and she— her collar read Dorothy— mewed up at you from the floor.

“Does not!” repeated Brian.

“Does TOO!”

“Does NOT!”

The cat mewed at you again.

“DOES—”

“Hey!” you swept the cat into your arms, pressing her to your chest. “You’re upsetting the cat.”

“Oh, precious Tiffany,” cooed Freddie, reaching out his arms.

“Uh, pretty sure her collar says Dorothy, Freddie.” You petted the cat in your lap; you’d earned the privilege of a cat’s presence. Freddie would have to wait his turn.

“Oops,” said Freddie. “That’s definitely Tiffany. Must’ve given her the wrong collar.”

“You’ve got too many cats,” said Brian.

“Nonsense!” Freddie cried. “You simply haven’t got enough cats to empathise.”

“You have cats?” you asked Bri.

“Had one cat in my childhood. Used to have another, early on after I’d moved away from home. Never more than one at a time, though.”

“Oh, don’t ask about his cats,” said Freddie. He continued in a stage-whisper, “He’ll just get all upset about Pixie…”

“Pixie?”

“Do you have any pets, Y/N?” Brian turned the conversation to you.

“My family has a dog named Selkie,” you said slowly, suspicious of the sudden change of subject, “but I’ve always wanted to get a cat, maybe a black one, and call it Gravity.”

“Gravity?” Freddie said. “Oh, you are a scientist.”

“Astrophysicist, actually,” Brian amended Freddie’s statement. “She’ll be an astrophysicist.”

“Why would you call a cat Gravity?” Freddie ignored Bri.

You smiled. “Because when you told that cat off, or called it, everyone around you would have a good laugh. Can you imagine— Gravity, no! Bad Gravity!”

Brian laughed, tipping his head back. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I’d get a kick out of that, for sure.”

“Maybe we’ll have to co-parent a cat, or something,” you laughed.

Brian smiled at you, hazel eyes warm with amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. His teeth caught on his lower lip. “Maybe,” he said.

“Good god,” said Freddie. “Stop flirting right in front of me.”

“Excuse me?” you said at the same time as Brian said “What?”

“No, don’t look at me,” Freddie lifted his hands. “Look at each other. But then please get out of my living room.”

You took no notice of most of what Freddie said, seeing as he was being ridiculous, only shrugged, feigning a hurt tone when you spoke. “If you wanted me to leave so badly, then you should just have said so.” You pet Tiffany once more, then deposited her gently in yet another cosy chair on your right. You pushed yourself up from your own chair. “Friendship is built on honesty, Fred.”

“Where in the world do you think you’re going, Y/N?” said Freddie, now in all seriousness. “You do know I was only teasing, darling, don’t you?”

“Of course, Freddie. But I’ve actually got things to do. Can’t just sit around all day, as much as I’d like to,” you smiled apologetically.

“What’ve you got to do?” Freddie asked. “Studying?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded, slinging your messenger bag over your shoulder again.

“Bet Brian could help you with that.”

“I’m right here, you know,” said Bri, and you looked at him.

“I don’t know, Freddie…” you tilted your head to one side. “He’s terrible at maths, poor thing.”

“HEy,” said Brian indignantly. “Bad at derivatives, not maths in general; give me at least a little credit!”

You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, still surveying Bri. “Hm, do you deserve it, though… What do you think, Freddie?”

“Mm,” Freddie pretended to consider. “It’s certainly a topic for discussion.”

“Still here,” said Brian.

“Yes, you are, aren’t you, darling, but maybe you should bugger off so that Y/N and I can have a proper chat.”

Brian crossed his legs and folded his arms. “About what, exactly?”

Freddie winked at him. “That’s for us to know and for you to… well, not.”

Brian pursed his lips, and in the slant of his mouth you wondered now if that legendary temper would arise, provoked by Freddie touching on some invisible pressure point with a joke taken too far. You decided to find out.

“Oh, Freddie, he looks so sad with those big eyes… Can we keep him, please?”

“Very funny, Y/N,” muttered Brian, brushing fallen curls from his eyes with a slender hand. “Very funny.”

“Don’t know if there’s room in the budget, dearie,” Freddie teased.

Brian threw his hands into the air and you were surprised by the grim set to his face. “Oh, have it your way.” He got up and strode from the room.

“Oh no, don’t, Bri,” you called, eyes following him as he brushed past. “We were only joking.”

“Y/N,” said Freddie, and his manner was oddly serious as he picked up Tiffany, who had wandered over.

“Yes?”

“I’d go after him if I were you. Sometimes these things get to him, jokes or not, and it’s hard to tell what sort of day he’s having.”

You frowned, tugging on the strap of your bag. “Is he… Is he alright?”

Freddie’s jaw twitched. “Y’know, lovey,” he said, “sometimes, I just don’t know.”

Something twisted in your chest. “Can I help?” you asked.

“I think you’d be just the person,” Freddie gave you a small smile. “Run along, then. And enjoy your records.”

“Thanks, Freddie. I’ll bring them back soon.” You patted the fabric of your now-heavy bag.

“And I’ll have a whole new stack for you!” Freddie gestured dramatically, and Tiffany’s eyes grew wide at the motion.

You waved and he blew you the usual kiss.

In the hall, you grabbed your raincoat from the coat rack, and your umbrella from where it had been carefully leaned against the wall. The person who had taken such care to ensure the safety of your umbrella was nowhere to be found.

“Why didn’t you take the umbrella, silly,” you said to the empty hall. “It’s still pouring.”

You hastened back out into the rain with your coat not quite buttoned, hoping to catch Brian before he disappeared completely.

Through the heavy downpour you squinted, and the water began to plaster your hair to every part of your face. Finally, you spotted him, on the other side of the road once more.

You dashed across, barely looking both ways.

“Not exactly boots made for walking, Brian!”

He stopped, and you hurried to catch up with him before some flight of fancy changed his mind. Not that he would change his mind; he had no reason to be cross with you, or anything.

You made it to his side and pushed the umbrella into his hand, drawing your arm through his again. “You didn’t think I’d let my warmth get away so easily, did you?”

He accepted the umbrella, though you supposed you had rather forced his hand, and he opened it above your heads. “Hoped you’d be a little more persistent than that,” he said, and you smiled up at him.

Then you remembered why you’d chased him out here. Evidently, whatever it was that had occupied his thoughts was still on his mind, because he hadn’t yet begun walking again. He seemed distant, though your hand rested upon his arm. “Is everything okay?”

“I— yeah. Everything’s alright.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” you said, without missing a beat. You could have answered your own question, though, because he wasn’t meeting your eyes.

“Because no one ever really means that everything is alright when they say it is,” he answered with surprising honesty.

You hesitated, then decided to trade honesty for honesty. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Nor would I. Shall we walk?”

You were baffled. You’d really never known anyone to speak so plainly.

All you could do was nod, and so Brian started walking.

You walked with him in silence for but the reliable rain and the echoing sound of shoes on cement.

At one point, you wondered why the expression was head in the clouds and not head in the stars, because had you had to describe Brian, those would have been your words.

Then abruptly, Brian halted.

“What is it?” you asked, seeing his contorted expression.

He raised his arm to point to a small shabby shadow that lay by the kerbside.

“Bird,” he said softly. He handed you the umbrella and dashed forward, crouching by the little bird and murmuring quietly. He pulled off his jacket, then scooped the creature into his hands and nestled it into the velvet.

You walked forward slowly, so as to not frighten the bird which Bri now cradled in his arms.

“Broken wing,” he told you, and the sadness in his voice was palpable. He looked at you. “Come with me? I live just down the street.”

You nodded, and he set off quickly in the direction you’d already been going before.

You jogged a little to keep up with him. His legs were most of him, really, and he set quite the pace.

Not two minutes later, you followed Bri through a garden gate and past low-hanging tree branches. You rounded the corner of a white-brick house with a red door whose colour was bright, even in the gloom of the weather.

Brian stopped at the doorstep of the back entrance, the rain running down his face.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, this is inconvenient…” He grimaced. “Um, my keys are in my pocket.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Which pocket?”

“Front left trouser pocket.”

“Could’ve been worse,” you said.

“What? Don’t feel like running your hands all over me?” His smile was debonair.

“Brian!”

“Okay, okay, that was a bit cheeky,” he conceded. “Would you get the keys for me, please? It’s not so much that I’m soaking wet, it’s just, our birdie here seems to be rather in a state of shock, so I’m not too willing to set her down right now.”

You deposited the umbrella on the ground and approached Brian. You didn’t look at him as you lifted the material of his shirt, blushing slightly when your fingertips brushed soft skin, when he inhaled at your touch; you didn’t look at him as you withdrew the keys from his pocket.

You unlocked the door, tugging off your wellies before you went in and held the door for Bri.

“Thank you,” he said and you shut the door behind him.

“Now what?” you said. You’d never rescued a bird before, but Brian seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“We’re going to need a shoebox and a small towel, to start,” he said. “Bird duty or gathering duty?” he asked you.

You considered. Brian knew his house better than you, obviously, but he also still held the shivering bird in his hands. You discarded your raincoat over the back of a dining table chair.

“Birdie seems to like you,” you said. “Tell me where to find things and I will.”

“Right,” he nodded. He gave you rapid-fire instructions, “Bathroom’s just down the hall, first right. It’s joined to the laundry room, and if you go in there, the towels are in the cupboard by the sink. Take one from the left of the stack because those are smaller. Then go back to the hallway and go into the first room on the left. There’s a shoebox on the desk, filled with papers. Just take out the papers and leave them on the desk.”

You almost thought he’d say go, but that much was left to your imagination.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, and began the treasure hunt that was finding specific objects in another person’s house.

You found the bathroom easily enough, the laundry room, the cupboard, the towels, and then returned to the hallway to seek the second room.

The door was only slightly ajar and seemed to rest on old, heavy hinges, so you gave the wood a hefty shove and entered.

The first thing you noticed about the room was the fact that the ceiling was covered in plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars, hundreds of them. It seemed that there were intricate constellations and solar systems and galaxies patterned out above you. You could actually identify a few of the constellations. There was Aquila and Lyra and Orion, Draco and Cassiopeia, Cancer, Virgo, and Leo— in fact, oddly, Leo seemed to be depicted twice.

Then there was the fact that books lined nearly every surface. Volumes were properly arranged on floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stacked in enormous piles on the floor, leaning against one another in the windowsill, lying on the bedside table, lying on the bed.

This was Brian’s bedroom.

Where there weren’t books or stars, there were records or plants, or developed photographs, and it appeared that everywhere you looked, another piece of Bri’s soul was laid bare.

You smiled upon seeing the three Jimi Hendrix posters above his bed, the Beatles poster above his desk.

And in the corner, between the window and the bed, there sat a collection of guitars.

There was a black Fender Telecaster, an acoustic guitar crafted in caramel coloured wood and adorned with an opal-like pick guard, and finally, another electric guitar, cherry toned and beautiful.

The Red Special, Freddie had told you.

Your fingers itched to pick up the guitar, but you disliked people touching your guitar, so you imagined that Brian would hate people touching his.

“Y/N?” Bri called. “Are you lost?”

You’d completely forgotten about the shoebox.

“Uh, no! Just a second!” You picked the shoebox up from the desk and gently placed the papers atop a stack of books. The papers, you noticed in passing, were drafts of songs.

You left the room with a sigh, feeling like a child who’d been discouraged from exploring. You’d have to ask Bri about his stars and his books and his records and plants and photographs and guitars some other time.

You hurried back down the hall and found the kitchen, setting the shoebox on the small dining table and lining it with the towel because you’d read enough books to know to do as much.

“Thank you,” said Brian softly from where he sat in an aged rocking chair in the corner. “Don’t think Birdie liked me yelling much,” he stood up from the creaking rocking chair.

“Don’t think anyone likes you yelling much, Mister A Bit Of A Temper,” you joked.

“Don’t you start,” grumbled Brian. With a gentle hand, he separated the bird from his jacket, easing the injured creature into its new cocoon.

“If we don’t make fun of you, who will?” you said.

“I don’t know,” Bri murmured, placing the bird’s broken wing against its side and wrapping the bird in the folds of the towel. “Maybe you should all just appreciate me for a change.”

“May-Bri,” you continued to wind him up.

He sighed, and you remembered Freddie’s comment about Brian’s changing dispositions.

“I appreciate that you’re going to help me become as godly at guitar as you,” you winked when he looked up from the bird.

He smiled. “Well, thank goodness I have you, Y/N.”

Warmth spread through your chest; you had such lovely friends.

“What now?” you asked of the situation pertaining to the bird. Brian closed the lid to the box, which you saw already had holes punched in it, as if he rescued animals in distress on a regular basis. He probably did. His personality seemed to house a tendency for selfless heroism.

“Well,” he crossed the room and turned on the tap in the kitchen sink, “I’ve got a friend who works at an aviary, actually. I’ll give him a call, and he’ll take the dear little thing in.”

“How come you know so many interesting people?” you wondered aloud.

“I could ask the same of you, to be quite honest. Friends with an entire rock band? And with an up-and-coming fashion designer?”

“Ah, you’ve been talking to Roger.” The fashion designer was Heather, who specialised in silver-threaded embroidery and all sorts of glamorous grandeur.

“Mm,” said Bri. “Talks about his girlfriend an awful lot.”

“They’re that invested?”

“Yes, it’s rather out of character. For both of them, I gather.”

You nodded. Heather and Rog were of the type to love— and to lust— easily, and rarely stuck with the same person for very long at a time.

“I’ll just make that call,” Brian gestured to the orange phone that hung on the wall, and you nodded again.

The call was quick, and when it was finished, Brian announced, “He’ll come past to pick up our little friend in a couple of hours.” He transferred the bird to his laundry room, “away from too much noise”, and left it with water and birdseed.

When he came back, he regarded you from the doorway. You must have looked rather dishevelled and from the rain because he said, “I’d offer you to borrow my hairdryer, but it’s broken.”

You scoffed. “How does a rockstar, with such magnificent hair, not own a working hairdryer?”

He lifted his chin ever-so-slightly at the compliment. “Oh, a tragedy, I know. May I offer you a hot chocolate instead, to warm up?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you said.

“Lovely. I’ll do that, then.” He set to retrieving cups and cocoa powder, and you thought you heard him humming to himself as he pottered about the small kitchen.

“Here you are,” he said soon enough, handing you a steaming cup that radiated as much warmth as he himself normally did. You thanked him. “Living room?” Brian gestured down the hall.

“Yes,” you said, “I’d like to see the only room I haven’t visited.”

“There’s actually another bedroom, but it’s just filled with boxes,” he informed you. “No skeletons in closets here.”

“Oh, but I didn’t check…”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N.” His fingers curled around your forearm lightly, and he steered you down the hall.

In the living room, he took one sofa and you took the one that faced it.

“Wow, imagine having this much space in a house all to yourself,” you said, stretching your legs out on the couch and wriggling your socked toes.

Bri chuckled. “It’s honestly too quiet sometimes. Needs more people, at least one. Maybe children.” His tone was wistful.

“You want children?”

He nodded. “I’d like to be as good a father as mine was and is to me.” He swirled his hot chocolate. “Even if he doesn’t approve of what I’m doing.”

That was a surprise. His father didn’t approve? You couldn’t imagine a parent who had more reason to be proud of their child than Brian’s.

“Does he not?” you asked gently.

“No, he doesn’t. Mum’s always told me to do whatever I felt was right, but dad... not so much. I’ll change his mind, though.” Brian flashed you a small smile, but you could see that his pain lay close to the surface.

You decided to change the subject. “You obviously love animals though, so why not get a pet, another cat maybe, while you wait for somebody to love?”

“I’m sure Freddie would agree,” Brian said. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll name it Gravity,” he winked.

“So you’re not the type to name succeeding pets the same name? No Pixie the Second?”

“You’re on thin ice, Miss Andrews,” he warned at the mention of Pixie.

“Oh no,” you said sarcastically. “Talking about Pixie is off the table, then?”

“Eh, not anymore. Freddie was just being dramatic. I did love that cat, though.”

“A lot?”

“A lot,” he nodded emphatically. “I never had any siblings. Pixie was the closest thing I had, really. She was my confidante.”

“Confidante?” you said, amused.

“Yeah, y’know. I’d tell the cat my worries, my hopes and dreams…”

“Oh, no one tells their siblings that,” you laughed.

“You have siblings?”

“I have two brothers. One younger, Billy, and one older, Frank. Billy’s off at boarding school, but Frank lives in Surrey, on our parents’ land.”

“Oh?” Brian said, blowing on his hot chocolate before taking a sip. “Your turn, then. Tell me about your family.”

“Well,” you began, “it’s me and Billy and Frank, and mum and dad, and chickens and cows and horses and that sort of thing.”

“You grew up on a farm?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Ridge Farm, in Surrey. My parents and Frank still live there, and Billy, when he comes home.”

“But then you went off to live in the Big Smoke?” Brian asked. “That’s quite the change of scenery.”

You shrugged. “I felt like an adventure, and if I wanted to study astrophysics, it seemed that Imperial College was the place to do it.”

“That’s very lucky indeed,” Bri mused.

“How do you mean?”

“Well,” he said, “I would certainly never have met you, if you’d stayed in the countryside.”

“And how the hell else are you supposed to learn to derive those bloody derivatives?” you grinned.

“If you were sitting over here, I’d shove you,” he said.

“What’d I do?”

“I said to give me a little more credit; maybe you should afford yourself some too.”

You touched a hand to your heart. “That’s the most considerate thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Brian shook his head. “You have terrible friends.”

“I don’t know about that… You’re all quite glamorous.”

“Doesn’t necessarily make us good friends, though.”

But your thoughts had wandered down another path entirely. “If the four of you, as Queen, continue this way… Well, there’s no telling what you’ll become. To think, you could be anything, anything at all.” You finished your hot chocolate with a sigh.

“You know what I think?” said Brian, pulling his legs to his chest.

“No, Bri, what do you think?”

“I think that’s the absolute loveliest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he murmured, resting his chin on his knees as he looked at you. “To us,” he corrected himself.

But you held his eyes. “To you,” you corrected him. “You’re the only one here.”

For some reason, your words felt heavier than their face value. Yes, Brian was the only one there, but somehow this felt significant, like there was a reason he was the only one there. This was something other than circumstantial, something effervescent, cosmic.

And there was an otherworldly serenity in Brian— you noticed now because it seemed to amplify the unearthliness of your words. Serenity resided in the curve of his mouth, the arc of his brow, the crescent moon shape of his nails against his fingers, in the way he held himself, as though he were not really touching the ground.

You could only stare.

Brian’s lips parted and you felt dizzy. Your thoughts would not remain linear; they spiralled around non sequentially. Your breathing had grown shallow, and you found it hard to return it to normal— your breathing, like everything else around and about you, felt suddenly out of your control.

Brian stammered, “I—I’d better go check on Birdie.” Unable to respond, you bobbed your head in a poor imitation of a yes. Bri swung his long legs off of the couch and departed the room, not meeting your eyes again.

Unsettled by whatever it was that had just passed, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, pulling at a little thread that had for the life of it done no wrong but come loose.

When Brian returned, your gaze caught on his eyes, and he looked away.

You found that it was time to leave.

“I’ve, uh, got to go. I promised my mum I’d call her today, and I need to get some studying done before then.”

You weren’t lying, but you weren’t exactly divulging the whole truth either— you would be calling your mum much later, and studying precisely now was not strictly necessary. But the mellow atmosphere of Brian’s home seemed suddenly claustrophobic, and your breathing was still off, a little laboured. You wondered if perhaps you were coming down with something.

“Of course,” Brian nodded understandingly. He was always so understanding. Right now, it frustrated you. You had to get out.

“Thank you for the hot chocolate.”

“Thank you for sharing your umbrella with me.” His manner was almost shy now, his shoulders bent, his hands winding around each other, his head bowed. Then, his discomfort became painfully obvious when his finger brushed over the side of his nose.

“See you Thursday?” you said tentatively.

“Yes— wait, no.” He passed a hand over his eyes and the shadows beneath them. “I’m sorry, I’m having dinner with my parents this Thursday.”

“Oh.”

“Next Thursday, though?”

“Yeah, what time?”

“Hmm. You know what? I’ll call you before then. You can give me your address then, too. I don’t think I can remember the way from when I walked you home.”

“It was rather dark,” you provided his excuse.

He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Though not nearly dark enough to see all the stars we wanted to.”

An involuntary smile stole across your lips. “Not even close.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You walked home in the rain alone. You didn’t even take the tube. Subsequently, it took you nearly two hours to get home.

And when you shut the door behind you, you felt you had shut out the world.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

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#tina’s writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #ridge farm #fic

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