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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 - modern royalty au!lee felix x female reader

wc: 10.6k words

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: felix and mc being dumbasses, no use of y/n, sickeningly sweet petnames, ANGST, fluff!!, smut warnings under the cut

synopsis: your childhood best friend, the prince lee felix, is due to be betrothed in an arranged marriage organised by his mother. the problem is, you’re her top choice - and you’re also secretly madly in love with him.

a/n: our first fic on the blog!! if anyone has any questions or any thoughts to share with me please feel free. this fic is my baby and i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dryhumping, use of petnames in bed, no actual sex!!, soft cutie felix except nsfw!!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You'd loved Lee Felix since the day you met him.

Of course, your brain had always convinced you that he was unattainable. You weren't without status, so to speak - your mother was famously known as the Queen's lady-in-waiting, and it was through her job that you'd had the pleasure of meeting the two princes, Felix and his elder brother Chris. You and Felix had clicked instantly. You had no other siblings yourself, and your father had died in the army when you were a baby, leaving your mother widowed and you without one of your intended parental figures.

Felix had taken that all in his stride, though. The day he met you he stumbled up to you with the grace of Bambi's first movement on ice, all short chubby limbs flailing everywhere and eyes formed in crescent moons with the size of his smile. Chris had taken less interest in you. Although polite, he was three years older than the both of you and already had his own group of friends, but you and Felix hadn't even started formal education yet - and you were inseparable as soon as you met. You were enchanted by him, he had been your first crush, and your first love once you were old enough to understand what that was.

You began your life as a shy, timid little girl, just as clumsy as your best friend. Your knobbly knees were always bruised and scarred, peeking out from the tops of your white knee socks and covered in whatever bandages Felix could find to wrap around you. Felix had brought you out of your shell, introduced you to some of his other 'friends' - at the start, they were just kids with similar status to him, but they really did form a tight knit group eventually. Now, you were known to always be by the side of Felix and his group, getting up to whatever secret debauchery you could manage that wouldn't risk any of your positions in society. Your mother, thankfully, had turned a blind eye to most of it, and the Queen was always too occupied to notice.

When you were younger, you and Felix loved to go out gallivanting. You'd stumble to the nearest beach, bags of towels and books in your canvas bags and giggle as you threw them on the sand. You had some form of an unofficial book club, just the two of you. You saw him practically all day everyday, but you'd both discussed and had decided to designate a Saturday afternoon to discuss whatever books you'd found in the extensive palace library and you both avoided any and all kinds of book talk on any other day in the week. The beach had become your place to gush over whatever literature had caught your attention, with the calming waves of the sea crashing behind you and the tweeting of whatever birds had made an appearance that day.

Now, though, you were both of age. You were both twenty one, and that meant that marriage was around the corner for Felix. He'd been so busy lately, you'd barely had the chance to see him. You took upon completing mundane tasks of your own, helping your mother with anything the Queen asked for (much to her polite gratitude, but she definitely knew why you were sulking around), and sometimes you even helped the cooks make food for the whole palace. Felix had teased you relentlessly once he'd seen you in your white frilly apron and you'd had to chase him out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon.

It was weird not having your best friend around so much. Chris was already married, being the heir to the throne, despite the fact there were rumours he would abdicate to Felix. Felix hadn't told you anything about that, and you were sure he would have. Even Chris leaving had left a hole in your heart - no more seeing his muscly eye-candy group of friends around. Well, they still showed up uninvited sometimes. You were pretty sure Changbin and Jisung were never actually invited, not even by Chris, but they lingered around him like they were his little brothers, too.

"Hey, you've been making that daisy chain for like, twenty years," A familiar giggle chimed from above you, and you looked up. Ah yes, your Prince. You'd gotten so lost in memories that you'd been wasting a Saturday afternoon with him. Fuck, you're such an idiot. Felix was looking down at you in your position in his lap, your head nestled on top of his crossed legs in the dress slacks he was supposed to wear everyday. He was wearing a white silk shirt on top of it, billowing in the summer breeze, but the top two buttons were still undone due to the heat of the sun. The summer always made your Prince's freckles shine more on his tan skin, the fawn dots even extending to the exposed skin on his chest. Needless to say, you waited impatiently for the hot season to come around every year. His teeth were gleaming in his smile, radiating sunshine and the gleam bouncing off of the bleach blonde mullet he'd managed to convince his mother to let him have.

You had to deflect. He couldn't know you were upset at not seeing him, although you were nearly certain he must have worked it out already. You shrugged dismissively, looking back at the daisy chain in your hands. Your thumbnails were stained with green from the plant stems, but you were still determined to finish it. You were making it for him, as a crown, because you knew he'd keep it until the flowers wilted, and then he'd get the flowers pressed and he'd put them in his scrapbook. He was such a good friend. His scrapbook was full of mementos of the two of you, even sometimes extending to the whole group - you and Felix, your friends, and Chris and his friends. It was mostly full of just the two of you, though.

"Sorry, Lixie. I guess I'm not all there today. Sorry," You mumbled. "What were you saying?"

"I was saying about Rochester and how he's a possessive asshole- no, you know what, that's not important. What's on your mind, sugarplum?" The cheesy nickname worked exactly how he intended it to, making you giggle and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You nudged his tummy softly with your elbow, the silk brushing against your skin and making goosebumps rise on your arms. Felix dog-eared the page of the book that he was reading from and shut it softly, placing it beside you both. It was one habit of Felix's that you absolutely hated - like, how could he sleep with a clear conscience knowing that he had creased the delicate pages of so many classics? You'd given him so many bookmarks over the years, even personalised ones that you'd crafted in your spare time with both of your names on, but he always lost them or claimed he'd forgotten them in your book club outings. He leaned back on his palms, smiling down at you fondly. You shifted, turning slightly to see him better. You felt the soft cotton of the navy and white plaid picnic blanket brush against the bottom of your bare legs. You weren't really allowed to wear short skirts, or low cut tops, but on a summer's day like this you were permitted to wear a knee length skirt, so long as it was a thick fabric. Nothing too revealing was allowed.

You hummed in response to him, finding him still staring at you. "You want me to be honest, Pixie?"

Felix giggled at his own cheesy nickname, then nodded eagerly, strands of hair falling over his face before he pushed them back. His forehead had a thin sheen of sweat adorning it. "I always want you to be honest with me."

You ignored the butterflies causing a storm in your stomach over the statement. He was so understanding, so sweet - he always had been, like when he would bandage up your scraped knees or comfort you when something went wrong in your favourite TV show. He was even understanding during one of your many nights of debauchery, when you'd all been playing Seven Minutes in Heaven like the horny teenagers you were and you'd been picked to go in with Felix. You'd been bright red, stuttering and giggling nervously about how you'd never had your first kiss and Felix understood, rubbing your arm softly with his dainty hand and insisting you didn't have to do anything that you weren't ready for. You were so embarrassed, but he made you feel so at ease, and you'd both sat in the storage closet and gossiped about Chris instead.

That was the moment you'd fallen in love with him, you think. You were fifteen.

"I'm worried," You admitted, finally letting the flower chain drop from your fingertips and onto your tummy. Felix instantly shot up. His smile had fallen, and he was now looking at you with a concerned look, brushing hair back from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The butterflies started fluttering even faster, if it was possible. You looked up into his brown eyes, and you looked at his freckles, thinking about the many times you'd tried to count every single one. This was your best friend. This was the love of your life. Your Prince, as you affectionately called him in your head. You could be honest with him. If you couldn't, who could you be truthful with? "I'm worried because I know you're getting married soon. We barely see each other as it is anymore, and I miss you, to be honest. It will be soon, won't it?"

Felix hummed. He nodded thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the daisy chain on your tummy. You saw a small smile at the end of his lips as his fingers brushed over it. He knew it was for him. He'd made you many over the years, too, and you'd kept them in your own scrapbook, despite it being much emptier than his. "It will be soon. My mother is picking the right candidate at the moment. But..."

You furrowed your eyebrows. He hadn't looked back at you, still gazing at the daisy chain and beginning to rub reassuring circles on your side. "... But?"

The smile finally formed on his lips. "You do realise you're her top option, right?"

You shot up from his lap, eyes widening. Felix bit his lip, holding in a laugh. He was laughing at you, that bastard, but it did make sense. You were the Queen's favourite, and she knew how close you and Felix were. She wasn't a nasty or a ruthless Queen. She was a people person, she always donated money to charity and the homeless rating in your country was literally almost zero. She'd done so much for people since she was in power, and she never cared about status - not that it had ever affected you, but she did treat everyone as her equals. She was like Felix in that way, a sweetheart, and she always permitted you and Felix to go on journeys wherever you wanted, so long as you kept safe and there was a guard in the area, just in case. There was one in the meadow with you now, but you couldn't even see them from where you were sitting. She was just... so cool, down to earth. She understood what it was like to be young, within reason.

You were flustered. Your brain had instantly gone to thinking of getting married to Felix, spending nights with him but not in the way you used to, and even... Well, you had to consummate the marriage, didn't you? You were extremely inexperienced in that department, save for a few drunken childish kisses with Chris' friend Changbin when you were just a bit younger, but you still found your mind racing and going through your deepest, darkest fantasies. Fantasies that you would never entertain outside of shoving a hand down your underwear in your bed at night and whining into the satin pillows. You had to hide that you were thinking about that, what the fuck is wrong with you? Time to deflect.

"Well, she does love me," You said boldly. Felix shook his head, punching you in the arm, perhaps a bit harder than he meant to because you let out a hiss and punched him back too hard, in the leg. His smile dropped, groaning and grabbing the spot on his shin where you'd hit him. "But, would you be okay with that, Lixie? It's... me. We'd be like... you know."

"Married? Well, yeah," Felix laughed, still holding his leg. You sighed, giving him a flat look. You needed to keep yourself occupied, so you picked up the daisy chain on the blanket and started to fiddle with it again, threading it through with nimble fingers. Felix finally let go of his leg, throwing himself onto his side so he was lying down on the blanket and facing you. He'd started to fiddle with the cover of the book. Another thing you were getting prepared to tell him off about. "I know what you mean. Honestly, though? I can't think of anyone better to do it with," You felt yourself suppressing a smile at his words, said lowly in that deep voice of his. Everytime he said something like that, your brain instantly went to shit, he liked me back, and you couldn't have that showing on your face when you knew deep down that wasn't the truth. He was unattainable- no, wait, now he wasn't that unattainable, now that you've actually stopped being angsty and depressing and actually thought about it. "I mean, you are my best friend, sugarplum."

You let out a fake laugh at his use of that stupid nickname again, and it seemed to placate him. Best friend. Yeah. Because one thing you hadn't thought about during your insane train of thought, one thing you had always considered and had been the main factor in not confessing to him, was that you couldn't risk ruining the friendship you had built up with him for sixteen years.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Unattainable. He was unattainable. You felt yourself mulling over that thought over and over as you paced in your bedchambers, in your silly Disney pyjamas that now barely fit you and you would never let anyone see. You had no one you could even talk to about this. It was clearly royal intel, secret information, and the only person you could have possibly talked to now never comes around anymore because Chris decided to get fucking married and now spends most of his time boning his wife for an heir. Or just because he likes boning her, you weren't sure, but Felix told you that he'd heard enough through the walls to know that boning was definitely occuring every night. Anyway, Changbin wasn't around much anymore, and he was your top confidant - bar Felix.

You liked living in the palace, but would you like living there as a Princess? Well, fuck yeah, obviously. It was like something out of The Princess Diaries, one of your favourite films which you and Felix had watched over and over. He hated it. You had a good, solid reputation. You were a high member of society due to your mother's job, and you and your mother were even placed on the royal side of the palace for your living quarters. You had a massive bedroom, an extravagant en suite with a relaxing bathtub and a sitting room with a huge TV that you and your mother always curled up in front of. How could it even get any better? You had seen Felix's room, when you were younger, but it kind of became unspokenly forbidden when you got to your teenage years, lest something gets out of hand. You understood it, actually. You'd been going through enough hormones to know that you had definitely come dangerously close to propositioning him a few times.

You had propositioned Changbin, obviously. You two had your first kisses together, and also a few drunken kisses, but you'd ended up as just friends. He was probably the only one who knew about your feelings for Felix, and he admitted you weren't his type anyway. You were sure he was in love with Felix's friend, Hyunjin, but you never commented on the way he looked at Hyunjin like he'd hung the stars in the sky. You couldn't really say anything either, knowing full well that you looked at Felix the same.

You needed to speak to Changbin. The unbearable amount of anxiety at not knowing was mounting in you. But it hit you, then, in the middle of your pacing and chewing on your thumbnail. You looked at the copy of Jane Eyre that Felix had given you, placed on your bed. Your mother knew. She had to have known you were a choice, surely, and she hadn't even told you?

You shook your head, resuming pacing. You couldn't blame her. Felix wasn't even meant to tell you. It made sense, though - you'd received pretty much the same education as a royal, and you and Felix were inseparable. You knew you had the etiquette, the social skills (thanks to Felix). You were pretty much a Princess without being a Princess. It had to be you, right?

Did you want it to be you?

You threw yourself onto your bed, wrapping the soft pillow around your head and screaming incoherently into the fabric. It didn't help. Who were the other choices? You thought of other girls who lingered around the palace, ones that had definitely had crushes on your Prince growing up and had given him fleeting glances with blushed cheeks and an agape mouth. None of their names even came to mind. Maybe a Princess from another country, for a marriage of creating alliances? You could see the Queen considering that. She was always very logical, but you also knew she had her son's best interests in mind. Chris had married a Princess from a different Kingdom, actually, but his marriage wasn't even arranged. He'd been in love with her since they were teenagers, and they could only meet once or twice a year in arranged legal meetings. You remember them having perhaps not so quiet dates together. Everyone knew, and when they announced their engagement everyone was happy but not surprised. Felix had taken too long to find a wife, and even the thoughtful Queen couldn't let that slide. People were asking questions, personal questions about his demeanour and whether he was off putting, and she couldn't deflect the questions for much longer.

You hadn't even noticed you'd drifted off, and you woke up to your face still smushed in the pillow. You immediately inhaled sharply upon waking up, taking in the light outside. You'd drooled all over your pillow, leaving a huge wet patch and your hair was knotted every which way, making you look like you'd been dragged backwards down the hedge. Damn. Thinking too hard has taken its toll on you, really.

A knock on the door made you spring up from your bed, smoothing down your hair with one hand, before another three knocks came in succession and you paused your movements. It was yours and your mother's secret knock - one knock, then three quick ones after. She'd seen you in worse states. Much worse states, even hungover states that you'd cried over while she held a bucket to your head and had promised to keep it a secret. You padded over to the door, opening it slightly just to make sure it was in fact, her. It was, obviously. Not even Felix knew your secret knock.

She came in and sat on the big armchair in front of the fire. Neither of you had said anything. You stood awkwardly, wringing your hands. She finally looked at you, a kind look on her face.

"I have two things to say," She smiled. You loosened up a bit, realising that it was just your mother. She'd always been stuck by you. It had been only the two of you, after all. It was all you knew. You nodded, rushing over to sit cross legged in front of her like a child. "First of all, the Queen would like to meet with you in an hour. Second of all, you're seriously still wearing those Dumbo pyjamas? The legs aren't even long enough anymore, I can see your knees, they're meant to be trousers not shorts-"

You blinked owlishly. Her rant went in through one ear and out the other, before she realised you weren't listening. She sighed. You blinked again, pulling the ends of your pyjama trousers absentmindedly to try and make them longer. "The Queen... wants to meet with me?"

Your mother nodded. She wasn't giving anything away by her face, but she definitely knew. She knew. She knew what you were going to be told. God, why couldn't she just ignore her job duties for once and be a fucking mother? You chided yourself mentally, she was a great mother. But you were frustrated. You needed to know now, not in an hour!

"Just... just me, and her?" You questioned, cocking your head to the side. Your mother shook her head, fingernails picking at a loose thread on her skirt. She was avoiding eye contact. What the fuck is going on?

Oh God, it's not you, is it? Fuck.

"Felix will be there," Your mother stated. She jumped up sharply. "I'll help you pick an outfit, dear. Come." She beckoned you to the armoire in the corner and you followed dutifully.

Your mother began to flick through pieces of fabric hanging off of hangers, and you tried to ignore the anxiety now mounting again in the pit of your stomach.

You so badly wanted it to be you. Just for once, you wanted to be selfish.

An hour later, on the dot, you stood outside the main hall. It was where everyone - royalty and staff alike - ate food together. That was, again, one of the kind Queen's rules. It was also where her throne was, where she had meetings with people. You'd never been on the receiving end of such a formal meeting, but one of the Queen's maids had come and collected you from your room five minutes before the allocated time. You'd managed to run a brush through your hair, thank God, and your mother had put you in a baby blue pinafore dress that came down to mid-knee on top of a white long sleeved turtleneck. The turtleneck was far too warm for the weather, but you knew the Queen would appreciate the conservative outfit. You stared down at the Mary Jane's on your feet.

You shut your eyes, trying to control your breathing, before realising you really couldn't afford to be late. Maybe you'd fucked up and done something wrong. You raised your hand, knocking softly on the door, but it swung open with the small force of your knock. The Queen sat on her throne, flipping through the pages of a book. Your Prince stood behind her, leaning over the throne, pointing at certain pages and giggling. She was smiling fondly at the pages, rubbing her fingertips over certain ones and mumbling statements to her son. She'd began to age slightly, with wrinkles adorning her eyes and mouth, but she didn't look any less beautiful. She had long, dark hair and freckles, just like Felix, but her smile was as kind as Chris'.

Oh? They seemed happy, at least.

You cleared your throat. The Queen, her Majesty, looked up at you and smiled acknowledgingly, shutting the book on her lap. She beckoned for you to come in and you did a small curtsy before shuffling into the lavish room. You could smell the kitchen from here, and you knew the cooks were whipping up something fierce by the enticing smell of it. You hadn't had time to have breakfast, because you'd slept in, and lunch was still around two hours away. You hoped your stomach wouldn't grumble too loud as you eventually approached the throne.

Felix smiled at you. He was wearing a similar pair of dress slacks to yesterday, but this time his silk shirt was a baby blue, the Kingdom's colours. A silver chain rested on his neck and you took note of the earrings dangling from his ears - another impulse decision you'd both done when you were younger. You know Felix had gotten in trouble for it at first, but the Queen seemed to be buying him a lot of expensive earrings lately. She knew what it was like to be young, after all. You smiled back awkwardly, rubbing your sweaty hands on your pinafore. It was then you realised you were in the Kingdom's colours too. Very patriotic of your mother.

"You want some tea, sugarplum?" Felix's voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you winced at the nickname. In front of his mother? In front of the Queen? Seriously? Your eyes seemed to convey a similar message to him, a flat glare, but he simply giggled. You saw him pouring from a teapot into a dainty teacup, and reverted your eyes to the Queen. She was still looking down at the book in her lap, and you looked down at it in confusion.

It was the scrapbook Felix made for the two of you. It was full of pictures from when you were younger to now, full of cinema tickets from secret outings and full of pressed flowers. Some of your favourite book quotes had even made it into there, scrawled in both of your handwritings. Even your school graduation pictures were in there. You'd been sent to a private school for the upper society, obviously, but you still had a normal graduation - albeit small, and full of snobby people.

"Thank you for meeting me, your Majesty," You were babbling in awkwardness. Oh, God. It was like word vomit, you couldn't stop it. "I'm really glad to meet with you today. I'm just wondering, have I done something wrong? You never ask to meet me."

The Queen laughed, her eyes forming crescent moons exactly the same as Felix's. Felix appeared at your side then, handing you a small teapot with what looked like peach tea in it. Your favourite, because of course, your Prince remembers that. You awkwardly shifted on one foot to the other, taking small sips of the tea to try and cool your nerves and almost screaming because it was still scalding hot. Felix was trying to hold in a laugh beside you, you could tell without even looking at him. Bastard.

"You haven't done anything wrong, sweetheart," The Queen's voice was soft, and she was now looking at you, taking in your outfit. She nodded approvingly. "You look lovely, very sophisticated. I believe I've made the right choice."

Your cheeks burned red. No. Fucking. Way. "T-The right choice? Do you mean...?"

The Queen beckoned over one of her staff members and they scurried over in a similar manner to the way your mother would have done. They placed a box in her hands, a small black velvet box that looked like it could be opened seamlessly. A... ring box? "I apologise, sweetheart. I've kept you in the dark a little bit with all of this. Would you bring her a chair, dear? A comfortable one."

The staff member scuttled over to grab a small chair with a red pillow on top of it and placed it behind you. You looked to your left side, still in shock, and the staff member simply smiled and motioned to the chair. You muttered a thanks in acknowledgement and sat on the pillow. Damn, the chair was comfortable. Felix was still standing, watching you hold your teacup awkwardly in a sweaty hand. He looked like he was about to die of laughter. God, you hated him so much, but you also really didn't. He just loved to tease you.

Maybe he would in bed, too-

"So, as you probably know, our favourite boy hasn't found someone to court yet," The Queen began speaking once you were sat down. Felix groaned, and his mother simply laughed. "Hush, now, sweetheart."

"Mum, you said you wouldn't be mean-"

Their dynamics always amazed you. She took the piss out of him, to put it quite literally, but in such an eloquent manner it could be easily missed as them having a difficult relationship. They didn't. He was a mummy's boy, through and through. It was one of the things you loved about him. You could tell a lot about a man from the way he treated his mother.

"Felix, hush now," She admonished again, but the smile on her face didn't leave. Felix mumbled something and then went back over to the side to fiddle with the teapots. Good, he should feel awkward. You looked at her outfit, beautiful in an ornate sense, pearl clips pinning her long, dark hair up so you could see the freckles on her face that matched your Prince. "I took it upon myself to find Felix a bride. I hope you don't think I'm cruel for doing so, I do have my baby's best interests in mind."

Felix groaned, putting his face in his hands. "'M not a baby-"

"You always will be to me, sweetheart. But it was time to get you courting, to get you married. I couldn't do that when you're always gallivanting discussing books with this one now, could I?" Your cheeks burned. You started to stutter out an apology, but she held up a hand to stop you. "Nonsense, sweetheart. Your friendship is one I've always admired. You're inseparable, and it is lovely to see you both so happy. You know that I value your mother highly, also."

You nodded, grinning. You felt a bit more at ease at the praise. The tea had also cooled down slightly too, so you started to sip it again, ignoring the way Felix was intently watching you with an evil smile to see if you'd burn your tongue again.

"Then, I thought about it. I thought, well, I do value your mother extremely highly, and you've been very helpful as of late. Obviously, that is because this one isn't taking up all of your time again," She nodded her head towards Felix. It was such an informal motion that you laughed in shock, and she giggled, a chiming similar to Felix's laugh that shouldn't have come from a middle aged woman who was literally the top of society. You still weren't completely getting at what she was saying, but you were enjoying the conversation. It was just praise, praise, praise. Amazing. "So, I want to offer you something. I want you to know you can decline, and you and your mother will remain here in your current roles. It would make me very happy, however, if you agreed to marry Felix."

You blinked. Okay, yeah, you kind of knew that's what she was getting at, but still - coming out of her mouth you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Your eyes flitted to Felix, who was simply nodding at you in encouragement, eyes widened. He... what, had he convinced her with that scrapbook? He wanted to marry you? Ugh, he probably just wanted to marry you so he didn't have to marry someone he didn't know. He doesn't even know you like him like that. But... a little part of you wanted to be selfish. You scratch his back by not letting him marry someone he's not close with, and he scratches yours by at least pretending to be in love with you. Could you deal with that, though? The pretending?

You nodded in acknowledgement at what the Queen said, looking at your tea again. The tea leaves were floating around in the liquid, mocking you, as if saying you were so fucking dumb. Of course you were going to say yes. "Um... may I ask, your Majesty, what would happen if I said no?"

You refused to look at Felix. The Queen hummed, looking down at the box in her lap. Oh, that was a ring box, definitely. Funny, in a weird way. "Well, this way, if you got married, you'd be able to spend a lot of time together. You'd see each other a lot. You'd be happy. If you decline... I'd have to find someone else for him to-"

"I'll do it," You grimaced at cutting the Queen off, but you couldn't even bear to think of him with someone else. Instead of chiding you, she beamed from ear to ear, and Felix rushed over to you.

He leaned down, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in for a hug. He felt so soft, all silk and soft skin, but you knew what was underneath that shirt. You'd seen it, and now you were definitely going to see everything else. He smelled of lavender and orange blossom, that expensive perfume he's always spraying on himself, but you could smell notes of the flowers in the meadow that were still left on his skin from yesterday.

Okay, yeah, you could get used to this.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn't get a proper engagement, but that was alright. You'd been given the ring pretty much straight away after your meeting, and when you'd got back to your room after lunch your mother was still there, but now she was gushing, almost bouncing off the walls.

The ring was beautiful. Even using that adjective felt like an understatement. It was clearly an heirloom, passed through generations. The gem in the middle was blue tourmaline, and whilst it matched the Kingdom's colour it was extremely rare - or so you thought, you weren't sure - and it was surrounded by a cluster of diamonds and placed on a thin gold band. You'd always dreamed of getting engaged, even letting yourself think about getting engaged to Felix sometimes, when you were feeling particularly selfish. You always thought it would happen on the meadow, or on your guys' beach that you'd had less time to go to these days because it was further out. You didn't think you wanted it to be pretty lavish, just you two, so you weren't that angry about just being given the ring and told to prepare for an outing with Felix later on. He was your safe place, and you did want to talk privately about the engagement, so you weren't too angry.

You thought about it a lot, looking down at the gem glinting in the light. Your mother had left, and you were now just sitting at your vanity staring at your own hand. The public knew who you were. They knew you were Prince Felix's best friend, and more than a few people had deemed you two as soulmates, people from a similar status who were bound to fall in love and get married. Now, it just felt very one sided. You knew you were in love with Felix, and you'd agreed to the marriage with little thought, but now you felt a bit anxious. How were you going to pretend not to love him when you had to sleep next to him every night? Or when you had to go on dates with him? The engagement would be formally announced tomorrow, with the outing tonight being specifically for you to wear the ring in the public's eye and for you two to dial up the romance and get people speculating. The engagement party was planned to take place tomorrow night after the announcement, with everyone important there.

It was a beautiful ring. You just weren't sure you could pretend any more. You were sick of pretending to just view him as a friend.

When the night rolled by, you'd dressed in something a bit cosier - not too warm, because the nights weren't getting cold much anymore. You'd switched your pinafore and long sleeve for a thin knitted jumper and some long linen trousers, throwing a long but light jacket on top. You had to look sophisticated, respectful even. You deemed you looked alright after tucking the jumper into the trousers and adorning a belt, and when you swung the door open to your room, Felix was stood there.

He'd also put on a thin jumper in lieu of his thin billowing silk shirts, but he still looked just as good in the blue cable knit staring you in the eyes. He'd even put on a long coat just like yours. It was like you were matching, but you hadn't intended to. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and you swore you'd never seen him look happier, not even when you'd moan in delight eating his homemade brownies or when you'd go sick after eating too many of said brownies because they were too good. His hair was neatly styled, pulled back in a stylish half up-half down ponytail, with a few strands dangling in his face.

"Hey, sugarplum," He spoke, voice low. You groaned, pushing him out of the doorway and leaving the room, shutting the door behind you. He laughed in delight at your annoyance and linked arms with you. It was then you noticed he had a flower in his hand - just one stem, but the meaning was enough to almost make you cry.

"Oh my God, Felix, is that-"

"Baby's breath," He unlinked his arm with you, passing the stem to you. When you two were younger, you'd been entranced by the baby's breath growing in your meadow and you'd both been determined it was the work of fairies. It was too beautiful to be normal, and you and Felix had collected them endlessly until there was basically none left. You called them fairy flowers, and that's sort of where Felix's nickname had come from - your mother had called him Pixie affectionately when he'd revealed that he really thought these flowers were part of a fairy's little garden. He pretended to hate it, but you know he secretly loved it when you called him that. Chris had told you.

"You remembered. We used to call them fairy flowers," You brushed your hand over the flower, grinning at the softness. Felix chuckled, whispering a 'yeah'. He quickly pinched the flower from you again, tucking it behind your ear. You quite literally swooned, smiling up at his own beaming face. It got a bit awkward for you then though, because you couldn't even pretend not to be in love with him now, before you're even married. You found yourself in a state of word vomit again. "Jeez, dial down the PDA, Romeo. We're not even outside yet."

You walked off, leaving Felix trailing after you laughing at your words. "'Jeez'? What are you, a frat boy? You need to stop reading fanfictions, you know," He slung his arm around your waist, leading you out of the palace grounds. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him, but you leaned in closer to his touch. Tonight was meant to just be a late night walk, full of holding hands and perhaps acting like normal people getting some street food from a dodgy merchant that would give you a bad tummy for a few days. Once you'd left the ornate gates, with one of the guards waving you both goodbye, you started to walk down the street and into the busier part of town. The palace wasn't too far from the hustle and bustle of the city, because again, the Queen apparently loved to be normal. People came to the palace all the time and took pictures and whatnot, but they were never allowed into the actual building. That was too far, and a danger to security.

You both began to walk, feeling the much cooler breeze blow through your hair and rattle the petals upon your ear. It was a bit ticklish, but he'd put it there, so it was staying there. His arm stayed around your waist, but it was comforting. You'd done stuff like this a million times. You were both extremely affectionate and loved touch anyway, so it wasn't strange. Of course, it felt different. You were engaged to him now. You could like... kiss, and stuff. You felt like a high school girl kicking her legs and twirling her hair over her crush, but you decided you were going to allow it because you were still young, and still yet to have a lot of your firsts with someone.

Once you got to a street where there were a few people milling around, Felix motioned to a wooden bench on the side of the path. Overgrown moss and bushes wrapped around it, but it still looked quite cute. "Wanna sit down here for a bit? I think we should probably have a chat, you know. About everything," When you looked at him, he looked embarrassed for once, strange given his usual brazen nature. You found yourself wanting to comfort him, so you nodded, sitting down on the bench and smoothing your trousers down. He sat next to you, turning to face you on the bench and fiddling with the cuffs of his coat.

"Felix, are you okay about marrying me?" You blurted out. "I mean, I know you probably don't want to marry anyone else, but you won't even get the chance to try to get to know everyone. You're stuck with me."

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. His head snapped up to you. "Um, what the fuck? You're my best friend. I am absolutely okay with getting married to you."

Your chest heaved. You felt reassured, but still not completely relieved. "But... Lixie. We'll have to kiss. And we'll be sharing a bed. You know we have to consummate the marriage, right?"

There was that smirk on his face again. You regretted ever saying anything. "You've been thinking about having sex with me?"

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. You heard Felix chuckling next to you, his shoulders shaking the whole rickety bench. You finally looked up at him, punching him in the leg again. His laughter ceased as he yelped. Good, bastard. "You know what I mean, Lix. We are literally going to have to, or the marriage won't be like, real. Or something, I don't know."

"You do know, you know everything. You're smarter than me," Felix chided you. He sighed, leaning to put his head on your shoulder. "What are you actually worried about? Tell me."

"It's just..." You couldn't say it. But maybe you could, and phrase it differently. A conditional question, to answer the real question inside of you. "What if we fell in love?"

Felix hummed, shutting his eyes softly. "Then everyone would have been right about us."

"Y-You... you wouldn't mind it? What about our friendship?"

He rubbed his cheek against you comfortingly. "It would only be made better, sugarplum," He pulled back, grinning at you. Oh no. That smile meant a Dumb Felix comment was incoming. "Plus, I know you think I'm smoking hot, so-"

"Felix!" You whined. He stuck his tongue out at you cheekily, making you roll your eyes. You turned away from him, staring ahead at a large tree on the other side of the path.

"I mean, we are compatible. Would it be so bad?" He sounded insecure now. You looked at him. His eyes were gleaming from the moonlight, and he did look really nervous. Perhaps... he wants to know if you'd hate him if either of you caught feelings. He wants to know if you think it would ruin your friendship. Honestly? After that conversation, you didn't. You shook your head, smiling softly at him. He stuck his tongue out again, trying to lighten the mood, and you did it back. You both had a fit of giggles afterwards, hitting each other while laughing like you always do.

Then, you saw it. A distinctive flash of a camera behind Felix, towards the end of the path. Oh, yeah, you're meant to be like, loving it up right now. You grabbed Felix's arm, pulling him in.

"Wh- wha-"

You brought his ear to your mouth, looking down at it and whispering. "There's a reporter taking pictures behind you. Don't look, but we should probably be more affectionate."

Felix pulled away, nodding solemnly. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he spoke, then a lightbulb going off. "Kiss me."

"H- Huh?!"

"Or, I'll kiss you, I don't mind. But that would really prove a point, wouldn't it? So caught up in each other that we forget royal etiquette?" He'd leaned back more comfortably on the bench, slinging an arm behind you. His fingertips were dancing up your shoulder as you were turned to face him, faces only inches apart. You licked your lips. He licked his own. The flash appeared again. Oh, the reporter liked that.

"Felix... I don't know-"

"I know it's not your first kiss, sugarplum. Can't back out of kissing me now," You internally groaned at the mention of him knowing what you and Changbin had done. Fuck Changbin, stupid blabbermouth. Felix was smirking, looking at you.

"Fuck it. As long as it won't be awkward?"

"We're gonna have to kiss a lot more, may as well kiss now," He shrugged. You shrugged. He was right. Eventually, you nodded. His fingertips carried on tracing shapes on your shoulder - you managed to make out a flower, a heart, maybe even a cat's head. Or a dog's head, you weren't sure. His other hand went up to your chin, fingertips coming to lift your head up to be closer to him once again. His eyes went to yours, a silent question in those deep brown eyes, and you nodded in response.

With that, you were being kissed by your first love. Your one sided love, to be precise, but you actually couldn't find it in you to care. You didn't even realise the camera flashing repeatedly as you pressed your lips against his, a chaste but open mouthed kiss. His lips were extremely soft, and you fluttered your eyes shut and leaned in to get more. He obliged, hand now going to the back of your head to bring you in further. You whimpered at the dominance the grab showed, and he let out a sharp breath of air through his freckled nose in response. You wanted more, so much more. Your lips pressed against each other over and over, a little messy but you liked it like that. Just as you tried to get your tongue against his, he gently pulled away, with one more small peck to your nose.

You were embarrassed when you realised you'd tried to follow him for more kisses. You quickly avoided eye contact, and Felix elbowed you.

"Look at me!" He whined for attention. Ah yeah, same old Felix. You'd forgotten what he was like in that ten second kiss. He still had issues with wanting to be the centre of attention. You looked at him awkwardly, fists clenched in your sweaty palms. You almost felt bad the beautiful ring had to live there. Once you'd looked at him, his sad face fell and he smirked. "Good, huh?"

"W-Was I... good? I've only ever kissed Changbin," You admitted, grimacing. Felix sat up sharply, putting a hand on your knee. You almost flinched away to try and sedate your own sexual desires, but he would get suspicious.

"Uhhh, yes! It was good, I really enjoyed that. Thank you for doing that for me," Felix comforted. When you nodded in response, he grabbed your chin again and placed another peck on your lips. "I... honestly? I kind of wouldn't mind kissing you again."

The boy's boldness shocked you everyday, and you'd known him for sixteen years. "For... for practice, right? When we're married, we're gonna have to do it loads, so-"

"Yeah, yeah, one hundred percent. For practice," Felix agreed. He was nodding eagerly. He suddenly shifted, looking down at the watch on his wrist. "Aw, shit. We should probably head back. Wanna watch a film in your room when we get back?"

You grinned. Back to the same old. This was better, though now you knew you'd be thinking about being on your back with him on top of you making out while you were watching a film. Quickly, you realised something. "That will look so sus though, now that we're engaged."

"We'll keep it a secret," He wiggled, elbowing you. You found yourself laughing, jumping up to walk back to the palace. You held your outstretched hand to him.

"Your majesty?"

"Ah, yes, my fine maiden," Felix giggled, sliding off the bench to grab your hand. You both started to walk to the edge of the path, skipping along as if you had no cares in the world. You heard rustling, probably the sounds of the reporter leaving.

You hoped you'd done okay. You hoped you'd made it believable. Well, you probably had, given your actual feelings - but had Felix?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You'd woken up the next day with a piece of popcorn stuck to your forehead and another person snoring next to you. You blinked yourself awake drearily, leaning up on your palms and looking around your room. Your TV had turned onto standby, and you looked to your right. Felix was in your room. Felix was in your bed. You'd- oh, no. You'd totally just fallen asleep watching a movie, nevermind. Totally fine.

No, actually. Totally not fine!

You shrieked, grabbing Felix's slender waist and wiggling him awake. He'd borrowed a pair of your more comfortable clothes and the t-shirt had been just a bit too small, riding up with every move and now exposing nearly his whole tummy. You tried to ignore it, continuing to shake him awake. The piece of popcorn stuck to your forehead fell onto the bed with an unceremonious noise and you groaned. Eventually, after what felt like hours of shaking your best friend, he opened his eyes and gave you a wide smile, pulling you in for a cuddle. You ignored how lovely it felt and tried to get him to regain consciousness and morality.

"Felix."

"Hmm?"

"You are in my bed."

"I know, dummy- Oh." Felix shot up, nearly sending you flying off the bed. His hand landed on the piece of popcorn, crumbling it into your pristine white sheets. You tried not to cry. His eyes widened, staring at you. "What's the- have you checked your phone? What's the time?"

You shook your head, reaching over to grab your phone. You seldom went on your phone, preferring to read and spend time with Felix, but you had it in case of emergencies and also sometimes for TikTok, but you'd never admit that. You blinked. 11am.

You'd missed breakfast, but you also had zero missed calls or texts on your phone. No one had woken you? Weird. You flipped the screen to show Felix, and he leaned in closer. You were brandishing your wallpaper of the two of you on the beach last summer, but you didn't care. He grabbed your phone, entered your passcode and clicked on the phone app.

"No one even tried to wake us?" He asked. You shook your head. He laid back down, seeming weirdly reassured. You didn't question it, slinking up next to him and putting your head on his shoulder. He moved his arm accordingly, pulling you into his chest and still clicking random buttons on your phone. Eventually, he landed on the search tab, and typed in 'news'. Oh, shit. Was it announced?

Yep. In blaring headlines, multiple news media sources were now releasing reports with every single detail of the story, including pictures of the two of you last night. The titles were all similar, going along the lines of "the sweet Prince and beloved best friend confirmed to be engaged!" or "sophisticated best friend and the lovely Prince taking a romantic late night stroll!". You scoffed, clicking on one and scrolling down. The pictures were cute, to be honest. Some even showed the two of you laughing and hitting each other last night, or you two walking home hand in hand and skipping as if you were kids. One picture, however, is what stuck with you. It was the two of you mid-kiss, Felix's hand on the back of your head and his other holding your shoulder, keeping you in place. It was fucking hot.

"Damn, we look good, you know?" Felix mused, zooming in on the picture. You hummed. You did, you couldn't deny that. "My mum was so real for thinking of us getting married. Like, we totally look good together. Imagine our kids."

Imagine what we'll do to make kids, you thought, but you bit your tongue. You giggled, slapping Felix's chest playfully, then a thought came into your stupid lizard brain. "Hey, Lix?"

"Yeah?" He was still scrolling through an article, laughing at some of the sentences. Everyone loved the two of you, but a few were jealous that you'd managed to snag him. Good.

"Did you mean what you said last night? About practice?" Felix's thumb stopped on the screen. His eyes darted to you, his hair still mussed from sleep. He just stared at you, and you lost your nerve. "Sorry. Weird thing to say. I was just wondering-"

"No, not weird. I meant it. You wanna make out? For practice?" Felix locked your phone, chucking it to the end of the bed. You didn't have time to scold him for throwing your things around like that before his hand was carding in your hair, fingertips scratching at your scalp. God, you loved it when he did that. Your eyes shut in bliss. You totally forgot what he asked. "Hey, earth to sugarplum."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure. For practice."

Okay, so you were totally being super selfish. But, you were going to be having sex with him soon. You could do a little making out to prepare, right? You were just a woman, after all. Nothing wrong with that. His fingers gripped your hair with a different intensity then, pulling at the strands slightly, and you choked back a whine. You opened your eyes, looking up at him.

He hummed, looking at you. He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "Maybe... yeah," He grabbed your arm, pulling you over him. He positioned you exactly how he wanted you, on top of him, straddling his hips. His dainty hands went to your waist, rubbing circles. "Yeah, like this. For practice."

"For practice," You agreed solemnly. You were beginning to think that maybe it wasn't for practice. Maybe he just wanted to. He scooted up, leaning up against the pillows so he was sat up and you were sat on top of him. You tried to ignore the fact that you could feel what was going on between his legs through your thin sleep shorts. You couldn't get too wound up during this, just in case it was just for practice. Knotting your hands into the fabric of his - your - white t-shirt, you leaned down, brushing your nose with his. You were being selfish, but bold, but mostly selfish.

Felix's eyes flitted down to your lips, leaning up to place a soft kiss there. You smiled softly, and he returned yours with a smile that could only be described as filled with fondness. You bit your lip, noticing the way his eyes honed in on your teeth and perhaps his grip tightened on your hips just a bit, but he'd always deny it.

"Lixie." You muttered. You were too shy. He knew exactly what you meant, and raised one hand up to grab at the back of your head. He brought your lips to his, attaching his mouth to yours in a way that was completely different from yesterday. Yesterday was for show, but this seemed personal, hungry almost. You decided you were going to take what you could get. You pressed your lips to his harder, making him choke out a noise of surprise. It was messy, again, open mouthed kisses that were nothing akin to precise or experienced, but you could get to know each other, get to know what you liked. Right at that moment, all you knew was that you liked him, and you would be so pissed off if he didn't let you get your tongue in his mouth like he did last night.

Your hands went up to his face, cradling his cheeks in your palms and slipping your tongue into his mouth. Your tongues brushed against each other, and you whined, hips kicking up just slightly before you managed to stop yourself. He grabbed your hips, flipping you over so he was on top of you, not breaking the kiss. His lips kept brushing against yours as his tongue entered your mouth, groaning at the feeling. You couldn't stop breathing heavily through your nose, your hands roaming up his back and landing on his hair, pulling him down to kiss you harder. Your lips felt bruised, swollen, but you never wanted to stop kissing him.

With that thought, he bit your lip, pulling away and letting it release against your teeth. You squirmed, licking your lips excessively to try and stop them feeling so swollen. Felix looked debauched, his hair even more tangled and his lips just as red and swollen as yours. His eyes were dark, staring down at you.

"Baby. Bestie. I'm sorry, but I'm- I'm sorry..." He whispered, his head going to the crook of your neck to place soothing kisses there. He was breathing heavily, shifting ever so slightly on top of you. You felt it then, what he was apologising for. His length was rock hard, the shaft pressing into your core and giving you just the slightest bit of stimulation. "'M so fucking hard, sugarplum, I'm sorry."

"I-It's okay, Lixie. I think I'm... I'm wet, too," You whispered, and he threw his head back, groaning. "Practice makes perfect, y'know. We can keep making out." Felix nodded eagerly, and he grabbed your thighs, linking them around his hips. He ducked to place a few more kisses on your neck, biting a little at the area where your throat met your jaw. You let out a moan, neck bearing to the opposite side to give him full access and he clearly approved, biting harder.

"Baby, c-can I just," He ground his hips into yours, groaning and stuttering his words out. He immediately stopped, looking down at you. "Can I? I can make us both feel good, no sex. We can just grind a little on eachother. I won't put it in, I promise-"

With that, a knock on the door interrupted you both. You were fully prepared to start swinging at whoever was on the other end. Felix looked like he was about to die, cheeks flushed and hair tangled every which way. You both stared at each other in disbelief. Okay, so you had kind of really lost yourself there, and now somebody is at the door while the nation's favourite Prince is currently on top of you grinding into you with full intent to cum. You'd only just announced your engagement. You could've got pregnant before you even got married. Jesus, what is wrong with you? You sighed, moving to sit up, and Felix moved off of you. He ran a hand through his knotted hair.

"I should... fuck, Felix, what do we do?" You knew you both looked the image of lust, lips kiss bitten and swollen and hair everywhere. You could even feel the wet patch in your sleep shorts. Shit, okay.

Felix looked to be holding back a laugh. You felt terrified, but you almost laughed too, in pure disbelief. You both covered your mouths before you shot off the bed, slipping your shorts off your legs and replacing them with a pair of longer trousers from your drawer. You honestly couldn't care less if he'd seen you in your underwear, you'd bathed together when you were younger. You motioned to the en suite dramatically and Felix ran in there instantly, still giggling quietly, locking the door behind him. You shook your head fondly as another knock was firmly punched against the door. Jesus, couldn't even give you a second?

"Coming!" You called, walking over to the door and trying your best to fake yawn loudly so they thought you'd just woken up. When you opened the door, Chris stood there, a happy smile on his face.

"Okay, I'm so coming in! Why didn't you tell me you and Felix are serious now?" He pushed you back into the room, throwing himself onto your bed dramatically. It was quite funny, seeing him lying on the bed you'd just accosted his brother on. He was resting against the messy sheets in a perfect suit and tie. You shook your head, letting out a laugh.

"Okay, we're not. It's an arranged thing, Chris. We're still only best friends," You chose your words wisely, fiddling with the drawstring on your trousers. Chris hummed, giving you a strange look. Changbin. Fucking Changbin, he'd definitely said something. God. "And, why didn't you ask your own brother this? I'm simply an accessory."

"Because my own brother is currently locked inside your bathroom pretending he's not there?" Chris replied instantly. Your eyes widened.

"No, he's not. Why would you even think-"

"Okay, well. I know he is, so," Chris shrugged. You sighed.

"Felix, you can come out," You said. The lock slowly clicked open and Felix emerged, looking sheepish. Thank God the shock of Chris arriving had made his boner go down, so now he didn't look too lustful. He'd also clearly ran your brush through his hair before coming out. You couldn't say the same for yourself.

Felix threw himself down on the bed next to you and Chris, groaning and stretching his limbs. "Did anyone ask where we were?"

Chris chuckled. He fiddled with the wedding band on his left hand. "Yep. I made up an excuse, said you'd gone out for a walk again and were getting food out. I had a feeling you'd both be spending the night together. Princess Diaries again?"

You shook your head. "Nope. It's too real now."

"Mind you, I don't think there was this much 'practising' going on between Mia and her potential husband in the second one," Chris looked up from his hand. You averted your eyes.

"Dunno what you mean-"

"How much did you hear, what the fuck?!" Felix shrieked. Oh, great, thanks.

"I mean, the walls are thin, dude. I heard a lot on my way down the corridor. But, I'm glad you two are having fun with it, at least. Arranged marriages can be shit sometimes," Chris stretched similarly to Felix, before reaching down and clapping Felix on his back harshly. Felix groaned, throwing himself around the bed in protest. "Anyway, I should be off now. Congratulations again, guys. You should probably get ready for the party tonight though."

Chris began to walk out of the room, and Felix stood up.

"I should... go. With him. You know?" You nodded in response to his statement. He waited until Chris had rounded the corner, and leaned down, pressing a swift peck to your lips. You squeaked in surprise, cheeks burning crimson. He giggled, giving you a sweet wave and running off. "See you later, bestie!"

You wondered if you’d ever be permitted to drop the bestie, maybe once you’re married to him, but it couldn’t come soon enough. You wanted to let yourself be selfish just this once.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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earlgreyinpajamas · 2 years ago

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merthur fic recs masterlist

last updated: 21 Sept 2024

authors

vintagelilacs

aus and fusions

arranged marriage au, pt 2, pt 3

college/university au

different first meeting au

hanahaki au, pt 2, pt 3

high school au, pt 2

hogwarts au

modern au, pt 2

modern with magic au, pt 2

modern royalty au, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8

pride and prejudice au

regency au

social media au, pt 2

soulmate au, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9, pt 10

s2e10 fix it

wing fic

arthur

actor!arthur, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5

bond girl!arthur

detective!arthur

himbo!arthur

jealous!arthur, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8

pining!arthur, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9

pregnant!arthur

protective!arthur, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7

oblivious!arthur, pt 2, pt 3

spy!arthur

virgin!arthur

merlin

assistant!merlin

bamf!merlin

consort!merlin, pt 2, pt 3

detective!merlin

druid leader!merlin

enchanted!merlin

exhausted!merlin, pt 2

flustered!merlin

hurt!merlin, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

irish!merlin

jealous!merlin

knight!merlin

oblivious!merlin, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

pining!merlin, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5

royal!merlin, pt 2

selkie!merlin

spy!merlin

virgin!merlin

other tropes and categories

00q fusion

5 + 1 things, pt 2, pt 3

accidental marriage

amnesia

angst with a happy ending

arthur courts merlin

arthur finds out about balinor

arthur finds out about freya

arthur knows about merlin’s magic

arthur loves merlin’s magic eyes

arthur’s donkey ears

arthur returns, pt 2

balinor lives

bathing

bed sharing, pt 2

bedside vigils

bets

comfort fics

coming out

crack, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

dragon dads

drunkenness

enemies to lovers

fake/pretend relationship, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5

fandom iconic fics

fav aus

fav fics

figure skating

flowers, pt 2

fluff

forced proximity, pt 2

fuck or die

getting back together

getting together, pt 2, pt 3

getting together with the help of technology

hurt comfort

hurt no comfort, pt 2

hypothermia

kid fics, pt 2

kinktober

love spells and potions, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

lovers to enemies

magical exhaustion

magic reveal, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9, pt 10

married/engaged merthur

meddling knights, pt 2, pt 3

merlin dies

merlin goes insane to get arthur back

merlin knows about arthur’s pining

merlin leaves camelot

merlin sleeping in weird places

merlin teaches arthur about sex/kissing

morgana and merlin friendship

not actually unrequited love

ot4

outsider pov

parties

protective!knights

remixes

role reversal

royal balls

scar reveal

secret relationship, pt 2

theatre/drama

time travel

truth potion

underappreciated fics

weddings

wedding stopping

wound cleaning

#merthur #merthur fanfic #merthur fic #merthur fanfiction #merthur fluff #merthur fic rec #merlin emrys #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur fic recs #pining!Merlin #pining arthur #merlin x arthur #arthur x merlin #Arthur Pendragon

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yeowangies · 7 months ago

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mutual understanding

Chapter I | Chapter II: Time for a little truth | III | IV | V

PAIRING: Kenpachi/AFAB!Reader CONTENTS: AU - Fantasy, Medieval, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Pining, Explicit Sexual Content in later chapters. WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: Mentions of mild blood and minor violence. WORDCOUNT: 3404

Summary:

Despite your first hand experience, it was getting difficult to admit to yourself that Kenpachi wasn’t actually as bad as he initially seemed. He was violent and obsessed with fighting, that was obvious and even more so when you started living there, but he had never treated you roughly. Not even a single word out of place towards you, less alone one threatening action.

Notes:

I struggle writing this chapter a bit, confrontations are hard lmao but they are always necessary and i'm glad we can move on to sexier parts now!

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

header by me, divider by @/saradika

taglist: @actuallysaiyan @lol-ktr @vrgelivvvv

The night was beautiful. It had been raining days prior, and you couldn’t wait to go for a walk in the garden that night. It was the only alone time you had, with no maids trailing behind your every move, not when they didn’t notice you sneaking off.

You rarely went past the trees signaling the limit of the palace. The forest was on the other side, and people rarely went too deep into it, knowing what kind of magical creatures existed was enough to ward anyone off.

You only wanted to explore a little, not enter the woods completely, but as soon as you took two steps into it, something felt off.

The first thing you heard was a distant howl, before a gust of air threw you down onto the ground. Your vision got blurry, heat covering your body as claws tightly held onto your arm, digging into your flesh. You couldn’t even scream, completely confused as to what was even happening, and who or what was even attacking you. Blood trickled down your arm, and that was when you could finally let out a shaky cry.

Whatever was holding you suddenly dropped you, and you fell with your back against the dirt, breathing heavily as the world stopped spinning rapidly enough so you could open your eyes and focus.

You gasped loudly at the sight above you; an enormous man with an eyepatch and a scar across his face standing in front of you, holding a sword. Half his face covered in blood, making your body shiver in fear.

You barely crawled away before feeling too weak to keep moving, heart beating fast inside your ribcage, and you kept your eyes on the man in front of you, holding onto what was left of your consciousness as you heard far away voices resonating around you.

“Captain Zaraki just saved a girl!”

“Was that a werewolf?!”

“That’s the princess!”

“We need to get her back to the castle!”

You woke up, feeling hot and sweaty under the blankets, gasping for air at the flashback you had for a dream.

That was the day Kenpachi saved you, the day you met him for the first time. It was embarrassing to even remember, as you had been more afraid of him than you had been of the actual creature that had harmed you. Albeit you hadn’t actually seen the werewolf. You only found that Kenpachi had sliced him in two once you woke up a few days later and one of the maids informed you about it.

You still didn’t know what to think of that experience, only that it made your blood run cold at times.

It has been a couple of weeks since you had moved to the castle, and the days passed by easily. You didn’t feel as tense as the first few days, when you were still testing the waters of the place.

Yachiru was actually a good company, despite her short age. She was vivacious and gave you strength and hope with her every move. You even met Ikkaku and Yumichika one night while you took a walk through the gardens, and even though they weren’t as strong as Kenpachi (not that you cared, but they let you know the fact nonetheless), they were much easier to talk to than your husband was.

Once Kenpachi had given you permission to reorganize the garden (his exact words were ‘do whatever you want’), you focused solely on that, and as the early weeks of fall began, the weeds and overgrown grass had been removed completely. You knew it was a bad time to start planting seeds; if the cold in the first few days didn’t kill the plants, the snow might do that job once winter arrived. But you couldn’t wait; it was the only thing that kept you occupied.

As soon as you became more familiar with the castle, you realized there wasn’t a library or a banquet hall. Why would there be any of those rooms if Kenpachi did not seem like the type to enjoy those things? Nevertheless, you wanted to fix that, but in order to do that, you had to ask your husband about it, and you felt like you might be overstepping with such an expensive and ambitious project. The garden will have to be done for now, and once that part was done, you could move on to something bigger.

Yachiru was helping you a lot in her own way, spreading the seeds across the soil of the garden (and though you specifically told her not to mix them you knew she was doing it), and once you were done for the day, you headed back into the castle.

“Are we gonna do that again tomorrow?” She asked cheerfully, running across the entrance.

“Tomorrow we have another task for the garden, we have to water the soil, remember?” You said, looking at her with a smile. “We have to do that everyday, and hopefully flowers will bloom by spring!”

“We’ll have flowers by spring?” Yumichika asked, walking through the entrance along with Ikkaku.

“I am planning for that, however it does depend on the weather, and how crude these colder months are.” You replied with a soft smile. “I have faith that they will bloom!”

“Flowers never really grew in that place,” Ikkaku commented, looking at the still brand new garden through the window. “It was always full of weed, nobody really cared for it.”

“My mission is to make this place nicer! Once the garden is done, I wish to create a ballroom!”

“You want a ballroom?” Kenpachi's deep voice resonated from behind you, making you jump. “Why?”

“Well… So people can come over…” You replied quietly, turning around to face him with unsure eyes.

“Come over for what?” His frown got deeper and it only made you more nervous.

“For socializing! Dancing and eating, mostly.” You replied, confused and slightly irritated. “Is that not to your taste?”

“We never had dances!” Yachiru replied, loud and joyful. “I bet it’s super fun!”

It was your turn to frown when you heard him sigh like he was annoyed before he spoke.

“I will never understand women.”

An uncomfortable feeling raised inside you, more rapidly than you expected when you noticed from the corner of your eye that Ikkaku was looking at the both of you with eyes wide open, and Yumichika had covered his face with his palm.

Embarrassed and frustrated, you couldn’t contain it even if you tried.

“And I do not understand you.” You spat, looking up at Kenpachi as if he wasn’t twice your size. “Are you going to deny this to me? It is your right to do so, but this would not even be an issue if we were not married. You could have vehemently said no to this union, even escape from it! So I might as well enquire why exactly did you accept it? I was the one who had no choice!”

You kept your eyes on his for a moment as he stared at you, wide eyed, as if you had sprouted another head.

Not interested in listening to whatever that could have been said, you ran out of the castle towards the garden.

Kenpachi stood there looking at you as you got smaller the further you ran, and was only brought back to the present time by Yachiru’s voice.

“Dumb Kenny.” Yachiru commented, way too loud for Kenpachi’s taste, but he only turned to look at her, confused and annoyed. She paid him no mind and only ran up down the hall towards the kitchen.

“What in the hell…” He grunted, unsure of what to do. Under any circumstances, he would start a fight, but even he knew that was a terrible idea.

“Captain,” Yumichika called for him, making Kenpachi turn to him. “With all due respect, you are an idiot.”

“What?” Kenpachi practically growled, but Yumichika went on despite the threatening tone.

“This girl is alone here, with no friends, no one she can confide in, and you just made her feel more alienated than ever. She had no choice in coming here, and she cannot leave at her own free will either. I suggest you actually tell her the truth.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You have affection for her, don’t you?” Yumichika asked softly, not really expecting an answer. “Go talk to her and tell her the truth. She will say she doesn’t want to talk, but pay it no mind. She’ll want to know.”

“How do you even know that?” Ikkaku asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I actually have the emotional range of a human being.” Yumichika rolled his eyes.

“Shut up.” Kenpachi grumbled, pondering on the idea of actually telling you how he was feeling for a while before deciding it was the right thing to do. “Fine, whatever.”

Walking out the entrance and towards the garden, he tried to organize his thoughts. It wasn’t like he was a complete prick; he knew what could be insulting to say, he simply didn’t care for those things. But apparently you had been uncomfortable since the moment you’ve been declared husband and wife.

Kenpachi hadn’t actually thought about anything regarding your life and feelings, simply because he hadn’t paid too much attention to details beyond what you had shown him. He had even let you have the bedroom all for yourself because he assumed you were terrified of him; the way you looked at him the first time you met spoke volumes. And even occasionally you seemed petrified whenever he was around, even after you’ve been in the castle for weeks.

It had pissed him off to hear you talk about him behind his back the way you had, though it probably came from a place of fear rather than arrogance, no matter that you moved around like the princess you were. That lovely bit of confidence he saw in you when you still lived in the palace diminished terribly when you moved to his castle, or at least around him it did, and he wasn’t going to keep contributing to it.

Out in the garden, Kenpachi spotted you underneath a tree, sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest.

It was time for a little truth.

“I do not wish to speak to you.” You said, voice shaky, as soon as you noticed he was nearby.

Kenpachi didn’t get any closer, but he spoke, regardless of what you said.

“Just shut up and listen.” He sentenced, making you turn your head slightly to the side, enough so he could see your glossy eyes. Trying to pay it no mind, he went on. “I know marrying me wasn’t your choice. I was greedy. I didn’t want to refuse that opportunity so I didn’t really put up a fight when your father told me to marry you, even when you made it clear that you think I’m a barbarian. I didn’t care.”

Your frown and sniffle distracted him momentarily, especially when your eyes kept avoiding his. You had turned to face him, but you weren’t actually looking at him at all.

“I hate how you keep looking at me, like I’m going to kill you at any given chance.” Kenpachi admitted through gritted teeth. “I didn’t really think about how this marriage would affect you so if you wish to leave and go back to the palace, I’ll make it happen.”

He spared you one last glance at you before turning away, when it was clear you wouldn’t respond to his words. You seemed even smaller, and the way you briefly looked at him before he left made you look powerless.

You stared at Kenpachi as he walked away, surprised and confused, trying to focus on one of the things that he said at a time.

He was being greedy? About what, exactly? It wasn’t like was using the dowry money to expand his fief. He didn’t even want you to expand the castle at all. His greediness did not involve money, so why did he say that?

You didn’t think it was so noticeable how afraid of him you were, even if it was a fleeting feeling at times. You couldn’t help it; he was imposing and his constant aggressive expression made it impossible for you to see him differently. It had a lot to do with that night when you first met, when he saved you. He hasn’t been the one who hurt you, but your mind just couldn’t fully dissociate what actually happened with the bloodlust he had in his eyes when he looked at you. On top of it all, he heard you calling him a ‘barbarian’ when you were trying to talk your father out of this marriage.

However, despite your first hand experience, it was getting difficult to admit to yourself that Kenpachi wasn’t actually as bad as he initially seemed. He was violent and obsessed with fighting, that was obvious and even more so when you started living there, but he had never treated you roughly. Not even a single word out of place towards you, less alone one threatening action.

Not to mention the fact that he adopted a small girl he found in the woods, and the undying loyalty of his men revealed a lot about what kind of person he was. And he had even let you sleep by yourself every night since you got there, knowing your discomfort.

Maybe it was time to make amends.

Waiting for Kenpachi that night, you paced around in your nightgown, hoping he’d come to the room after dinner. He usually did even if he didn’t spend the night, so you were ready to talk to him once he got there.

When the door opened, you looked at him, feeling slightly intimidated. He had the same hard expression he usually wears, but it was starting to feel natural to see him that way, so you immediately relaxed.

“I do not wish to go back to the palace.” You started promptly once the door was closed. Kenpachi remained impassive, only keeping his eyes on you once he removed the eyepatch. You gulped before going on. “I’m very comfortable here. I have to confess, you’ve treated me more like a person than anyone else might have done before, and I’m very thankful for that. And I’m… sorry, too.”

It was hard to read him at all, he only stared at you without moving a single muscle on his face, but somehow that was helpful enough to keep you talking.

“You saved my life, and I judged you horribly, without even attempting to know you. I insulted you and hurt your pride, so I must ask for your forgiveness.”

Looking down, you bowed at a ninety degree angle, staying still for a moment before returning to an upright position. You kept your eyes on the floor, waiting for him to say something, hopefully words of encouragement that would mean he accepted your apology, and that you could stay.

“You hurt my pride, huh?” Kenpachi’s gruff voice brought your eyes back up to meet his as he made his way towards you; it surprised you that he was smirking. “Is that what you think you did?”

“I think so… Weren’t my words insulting?”

“For reasons you’re not seeing.” He paused, eying you up and down quickly as his smirk faded. “I didn’t care that I was probably offending you when I accepted your hand. Your father threatened me with my past, saying he would hand me over to another kingdom for the nobles I’ve killed when I was a mercenary.”

Your eyes opened wide at his words. You knew your father was a politician and a strategist before even being a father, but you couldn’t believe your ears. It was startling, but not unrealistic, that he had basically sold you to a murderer.

“But I couldn’t care less about that, he could have done it and I would have managed to get away anyway.” Kenpachi went on nonchalantly, looking to the side as if he hadn’t given any of the things he was saying a lot of thought. “The reason I ended up accepting your hand, the reason I was greedy, was you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your father offered you to me on a silver plate in exchange for my loyalty, and I accepted, just because I wanted to have you.”

You stared at him, bewildered.

Kenpachi wanted you? You had seen him for the first time that night you had been attacked in the woods, and you weren’t so vain as to think of yourself so charming that one look would suffice to capture a man’s heart, especially a man like Kenpachi, who seemed so ruthless and aggressive to even care about those kind of things. Even more so when you looked terrified at that moment.

If anything, you were sure that you couldn’t actually judge him based on his expressions if he was telling you he wanted you with such a stoic look.

His eyes were on you for a while, obviously awaiting a reaction, but as moments passed by in silence, he turned to leave, at which point you decided to speak.

“Wait!” You called for him, and Kenpachi turned to look at you. “Please stay. We’re husband and wife, we should sleep in the same bed, yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“I’m not-” Kenpachi snorted in disbelief, making you jolt in surprise. You slapped yourself mentally for the slip but went on. “I mean, I was, I won’t deny it! Nevertheless, you’ve been nothing but nice and considerate since I got here.”

His eyes stayed on you to the point where you started to feel self conscious, until he finally sighed and took long steps to approach you.

Everything about Kenpachi was intimidating; it was inevitable due to his size and expression. But after everything he had told you that day, nothing inside you made you anxious about him. If anything, you could see features that you might consider attractive (not that you didn’t notice them before, but fear and trepidation always won those battles). There was a rugged charm about him.

“You’re asking me to share a bed with you after everything I told you?” Kenpachi asked with a smirk. “Are you doing it on purpose?”

“You can do whatever you want with me, nothing I say could stop you,” You said, staring back at him, straining your neck in the process. “But you've been attentive enough to make me trust you.”

When his hand slid up your shoulder and into the hair in the back of your neck, it surprised you but not enough to make you react. You were curious about his intentions since he made it clear he desired you for a while.

“You have a lot of confidence for a tiny woman,” Kenpachi’s grin only grew, making you smile in return.

“It comes with the royalty title.” You shrugged. “It won’t change anytime soon.”

“I don’t want you to change.”

With a firm grip on your hair, Kenpachi leaned down and kissed you. You made a noise in surprise; he had practically pressed his face against yours, bumping your noses and roughly crashing your lips together. You held onto him, gripping the front of his shirt tightly, when he slid his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

You could barely keep your legs from collapsing as he tasted every corner and every inch of your cavity. His desperation for you was palpable, and it made you all the more dizzy. It was difficult to even keep up with him, you were reduced to trembling legs and occasional gasps that left your mouth as you ran out of air.

If it wasn’t for the arm Kenpachi had slid around your waist, you would have fallen down once he pulled away. The lack of air had made you lightheaded, and your face felt impossibly hot.

Were kisses supposed to feel that good?

“Another.” You demanded once you’ve caught your breath, gazing at him with pleading eyes as you ran your hands up his tunic to bring him down again. “I demand another.”

With his usual cocky smirk, Kenpachi leaned down to kiss your lips once more. This time a little slower and gentler, but still just as eager.

#kenpachi zaraki x reader #kenpachi x reader #kenpachi x you #bleach smut #kenpachi smut #bleach fics #bleach imagines #my writing

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moonshynecybin · 7 days ago

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@tartquez here with a mermaid Marc au question but only if you want to! ✨

After he does his deal with the devil to turn his tail into legs in exchange for his voice, are there any particular shenanigans you think (mute bambi-legged) Marc would get up to?

scream if we ARE doing the full little mermaid with mute marc, he would SO annoyed that he cant talk everyone around him's damn ear off omg... hm i like him talking/being irritating…. im gonna let him keep his voice. for this the witch fucks up his arm or smth.

so marc gets his legs (wildly traumatic experience), passes the fuck out on a piece of floating decrepit driftwood like that first scene in pirates of the caribbean, and gets rescued by vale's crew (cele sulking moodily in the crows nest like uh GUYS? when he spots marc. who is of course naked and gleaming in the sun like a piece of gold.) and the academy boys pull marc's body limp from the sea, and when marc wakes up it is to the loose shirt and rakishly raised brow of the famous captain valentino rossi... literally like THE guy who he got legs for (in all universes marc starts doing dangerous stuff bc he sees vale doing it when he was younger and falls head over ass in love w him lol)… and he has to think up a cover story QUICK

of course as we know, vale is the most curious man alive. so when this hot (weirdly familiar.....) mystery man is deposited on the deck of his ship two weeks away from any land with no clothes, no nearby ship wreckage to explain his presence, and seemingly no memory whatsoever, hes like okay. you can hang for a bit until i figure you out. at least until we get to land— but you also have to make yourself useful :) (in my head he’s so charming about this offensive even if he’s like. implicitly threatening marc a little lol) and marc gets bored easily so i think he folds himself into the crew p fast after that… there are scenes of immediate flirting (marc comma shameless and BOLD. hasn’t really figured out the clothes thing). there are scenes of marc not knowing how to use a fork because he is used to using his sharp teeth and nails to simply rend sushi to shreds. there are scenes where pecco and luca pull out their fiddle and flute for the crew at the end of a long day of raids and the marc stares at them like hes under a spell because they dont have that kind of music under the sea. there are scenes of marc being deathly afraid of the ocean because he cant swim now (thrown in as a prank and vale rescues him ? perhaps ?). there are scenes of marc being surprisingly, viciously good at sword fighting (makes vale even MORE suspicious... like okay he is definitely not a two bit merchant deckhand lol) and them shirtless and sweaty in the hot sun spending hours trying to get one over on each other. marc staring at fire like hes never seen it before. him and celestino pranking crewmembers. an ache in his chest when he thinks about alex. counting his toes because they’re WEIRD and learning how to PEE and learning how to JACK OFF. and most off all falling harder and faster than he thought possible and vice versa... truly nothing vale likes more than a surprising little puzzle who is obsessed w him, even while theres a voice niggling in the back of his head that the alien way marc cocks his head and stares rings more like a shark than an amnesiac sailor...

UNFORTUNATELYYYYY for vale and marc, part of the reason marc excels at sword fighting is because marc IS the prince of the mermen or whatever the fuck. and his spell has a two week time limit to find true love before his arm (getting weaker every day) is permanently FUCKED (really bad when you live in the ocean or simply lead the kind of life marc marquez does) and he has to slink back home to papa marquez and all the boring, safe trappings of being royalty (PAUSE: santi is sebastian. thank u). so alex shows up trying to bring him back, but marc doesnt want to go (starts 2 become guilty about foisting this on alex) and cant swim like this anyways (scar on his arm getting bigger comma. new legs), and then vale CATCHES THEMMMM talking late at night when everyone else is in bed and he remembers all the stories about sailors being dragged to their deaths (true. lol) and remembers the glittering flicker of marc's tail after he pulled him from the sea twenty years ago and all of his suspicions at marc’s ability at violence. and then its a huge fucking mess.

#and then idk they resolve it. true love's kiss. whatevs. and he can shift back into his merman form anytime he wants and go vibe with alex #like the lil guys in the pixar film luca. or aquamarine. and then we can just insititue and undersea democracy to get around that plot idk #i havent seen the little mermaid in SO long and marc is straddling violent mermaid and goofy mermaid in this #as he does all things #asks #rosquez #motogp #callie speaks #marc as merman spitting water at pecco from under the sea and pecco walking around deck like ??? for YEARS...#maybe it takes them years to resolve and marc goes back w alex and his arm is just always a little fucked. even when they get back together

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anika-ann · 4 days ago

Text

Mine, Yours, Ours (Love) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; a part of this pseudomedieval-fantasy AU or a one-shot, I suppose

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x witch!reader Word Count: 4,8k

Summary: Sir Rogers, the honorary knight of Starkerbürg, feels blessed. Another day has passed, another day he gets to come home; to his lovely wife and his child. A household full of love in the face of everyday bliss and hardships of life alike.

But there’s a shift in the air tonight; something sweet and exciting crackling in the air, a longing and all-consuming need blooming within him as he sees his wife, so divine, in the most mundane and extraordinary of moments.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, body worship and (light) breeding kink, oral (fem-rec), PIV, but also tooth-rotting fluff, polytheism and light blesphemry, Slovak terms of agreement ‘cause I can (translation at the end), knight Steve 'cause he's a warning

A/N: A super-belated gift for @stellar-solar-flare 's birthday - or perhaps an early Christmas gift 🤭 fits after the events of the previous instalments but can probably be read as a standalone; DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics

Shiny armour; a heavy sword by the hip. Stance straight and tall, head held high.

An emblem of the kingdom, worn with pride. Bloody hands and scars from defending those in need.

Standing witness to events remembered by history and lending a hand in their creation.

Virtues of a knight; strength, courage, chivalry. Loyalty. Mercy and generosity; faith.

The honour of the noble servant of Starkerbürg, the glory only growing after the appointment of the new king.

Words of praise by royalty itself, whispers of admiration from commoners and nobility at every corner.

No higher honour in these lands than knighthood; and yet.

And yet as Steven stepped into the house, all the whispers and praises fell silent in his head, the great honour slipping off his shoulders into nothingness.

As Steven stepped into his home, he allowed the thoughts and echoes of sensation in his chest having been following him all day fill in his lungs, heart and soul alike instead.

Conviction ringing truer than the steel of a sword against another.

There was no greater honour than to having stood tall at the altar where his future wife had awaited him. No greater pride than to having hold a new life, one he and his beloved had created, in his arms. No greater title to carry than the one of a loving father and a loyal husband. No greater fortune than to witness and take part in precious, ungraspable and yet achingly tangible moments history might not remember, but Steven shall, forever.

You turned to him from the stove as you were setting the tea pot down, gifting him a smile; and from his very soul, Steven would swear that all the gold and luxurious robes of the royal halls in the castle could not compare to your beauty.

His wife; the mother of his child.

The yearning to hold you in his arms again struck Steve with force beyond all the longings throughout the day combined. And yet he hesitated; torn as to whether to come to greet you or the little human sleeping soundly in the cradle first, his heart large enough to adore both and wishing to show his affections all at once.

Your smile turned softer as if you sensed his hesitance and eagerness; you beckoned with your chin to the sleeping baby, solving his dilemma without taking offence, offering warmth in your gaze as Steve’s own wandered to the small bundle of joy, his steps sure and impatient after having missed his daughter since the early hours of the morning.

His breath caught in his lungs; he had seen her for over three hundred days now and yet, air stuck in his chest every single time he laid eyes on the beautiful miracle of life.

Her lips were slightly pursed, tiny hands in fists as if she was trying to grasp her dreams and make them stay; much like Steven had once grabbed after his own dream of you and him together, despite your worlds seemingly laying hundreds of miles apart. She cooed silently as he leaned over the crib and settled his hand over her belly, his index finger caressing her soft cheek, causing her to stir minutely. For a child barely old a year, her face already showed a myriad of expressions; at his careful touch, she almost seemed to smile in her sleep.

Steven’s chest inflated almost painfully, so full it might burst; by gods, he had been blessed. Running the pad of his finger over her still closed fists, he marvelled at the small fingers clenched so fiercely. A strong, healthy, gorgeous child. A gift from the gods he shall always fight to be worthy of; a gift from you.

Tearing his eyes, prickling with tears, away, his gaze found you, a goddess in her own right pouring two cups of tea almost mundanely, the smell of herbs filling the little cabin and complimenting its warmth; the house he had helped build with his own hands; the house you had turned into a home with your generous heart.

Striding to you in quick long steps, he wrapped his arms around your waist at last, even if not before you had set the pot down as not to hurt you.

The glimpse of your smile was warmer than the fire in the hearth, your body melting into his front so willingly and with such relaxed trust as if you, too, were only now entering your home despite having spent most of your day right here.

“Welcome home, rytier moj,” you whispered simply. Your palms laid over his, caressing in response to his lips instinctively attaching to the tattoo adorning your neck, soft warm skin humming with life under his kiss.

“It is good to be home, bosorka moja,” he muttered, granting himself a generous inhale, all senses tuning to you; the scent and warmth of your skin, the softness and fullness of your flesh causing his head to swim and his heart calm, thoughts circling around the centre and sense of his life he’d hold onto with vigour should he die the very next moment. “How are the two most important ladies in the world doing?”

Your hand rose to card through his hair, gentle touch sliding over his cheek, a smile adorning your lips and voice alike.

“Oh? In the whole world, rytier moj? Perhaps in yours…”

“Same difference.”

Turning your head, you caught his lips with yours, a taste of sunshine and pure contentment on his tongue as you smiled into the kiss and sighed, the only sign of the day’s exhaustion you allowed yourself to display. A smidge of worry creased Steve’s forehead, his arms tightening a fraction as to not only hold you and indulge in the feel of you in his embrace, but to support you too.

“It was a good day, rytier moj,” you said, a drop of humour rendering your voice a tad warmer. “However, you should know that your daughter made all the pots fly for a bit, which led to me having to clean up for eternity.”

Steven chuckled, nose nudging your temple.

The image of you having to run around rose vivid in his mind, along with concern about long hours of exhausting work of caring for the small child, no matter how joyful at moments, tiring you out; yet, the tenderness of your voice and the soft note of humour made his chest hum with overwhelming feeling of love, wide smile attacking his lips.

“Hm… I am sorry to hear that, love,” he said. “But have you noticed, how our little one is referred to as my daughter whenever she is up to no good? I find it curious, especially since such magical feat is something she has certainly taken after you…”

His thoughts wandered, the sensation of your body filling his hands so well evoking the memory of you indeed having your magic burst out of you before, more than once; sinful, beautiful images filling his mind. The memory of the taste of you tickled on his tongue, your cries of pleasure as your hips had buckled under his firm grip echoing so sweetly in his ears, heat pooling in his groin, rousing visceral need to hear and touch and taste and have again.

“Mmm, I would not be so certain, rytier moj…. stirring trouble is most certainly your specialty.”

You opposed him, amused; perhaps oblivious, for the moment, of how his grip on your sides grew firmer, your warmth and scent bringing his body to the fullest, most delicious alert.

What was it you said? Stirring trouble? Being up to no good? Oh, his sweet wife, his lovely bosorka… you had no inkling of what he was up to indeed, the longing to sink the entirety of his being into you turning too much to bear for him only.

“Is that so?” he chuckled.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard something in his voice change; or perhaps it was his hands, sliding over your hip, moving over your belly, fingers inching lower in a wordless plea, lips pressing to the side of your neck again, lingering, a greedy inhale causing his head to spin and his hips thrusting forward just an inch, to feel more, more, more.

“Perhaps you are right, láska moja… You are so, so good. I do recall you only have your magic act out of control when I am near you.” When I take you, when I have you tether at the edge of unholy bliss, when I sink into you and make you mine. My love, my wife, the heart of my life, of my family. My everything, mine to love, to protect, to have, his mind whispered sinfully, no words spilling from his lips as instead they wandered over the column of your throat you so generously revealed when you tipped your head back to rest it on his shoulder, desire and pride of being the one to have you succumb to his ministrations so willingly roaring in his veins even as his voice was intimately quiet. “When I am so, so close to you, my name on your pretty lips, parted in bliss…”

“Steven-”

No hesitation. No protest. A plea instead, a godsdamn prayer of his name on the very lips he longed to taste and claim; and for a loyal worshipper of forces beyond Steve’s imagination, for being a force of nature yourself, you sounded damn near reverent when speaking the name of the mere mortal he was and it filled him with dark delight.

Pride was a sin; but he had established long ago that for you, he’d walk the path to hell with an indulgent smile on his face. For him, the highest authority to judge him was but pliant, warm and so wonderfully alive in his arms, an echo of the want he himself felt humming in your flesh right under his palms; your permission was the only one he’d ever seek.

“May I have you, bosorka moja? I missed you all day long, missed being home…”

“Yes-“

Just as the single breathless left your lips, his impatient fingers slid under your skirts, a silent groan escaping him when his fingertips reached your heat, soft, warm, inviting, your body arching slightly into his touch.

“We missed you too, I missed y—you.” Your breath hitched so lovely as he couldn’t but nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, the pads of his fingers brushing along your welcoming heat instead of sinking in, teasing himself as much as you. “I-- longed for you, your voice, your breath, your touch-”

Gods you were made for him or perhaps he was made for you or perhaps both—a beautiful temptress, created to seduce all his senses. To see you fall apart, to hear your cries, to taste you, to feel you, to smell like you for days to come-

Retreating his hand minutely despite your startled silent keen, he grasped at your hips, spinning you around until your lower back gently bumped into the make-shift counter, hand under your skirt spreading all over the apex of your thigh to keep you still, mouth claiming yours with hunger, groin rocking against yours just to swallow the delicious sound you made at the contact.

Your hands came to life too, sinking into his locks and gripping all gentle and needy, your other roaming over his chest, down and down to his abdomen and lower to his pants, leading him to drink from your lips deeper before tearing away to press his lips just above your collarbone, both his and your chest rising and falling rapidly, meeting in the middle, your pulse thundering under his lips. Gods, when he looked up just slightly, your mouth was so gorgeously kiss-swollen already and parted with rapid breaths, pupils blown wide and fixated on nothing but him, touch so hot and purposeful and owning just as wished and did own you, as you had given yourself to him and would love to give again; even if the light circles under your eyes whispered of how much of you you had already given today and had been giving every day.

But gods were you his and he breathed in deeply to allow the miracle settle in his very soul, sending a silent prayer of gratitude for you being his and him being yours.

A ring on both his and your ring finger; a dark tattoo with each other’s name and an intricate pattern over your hearts, your daughter’s name right under. A family; the centre and the sense of his life.

And you were nothing short of breathtaking.

His wife, his love, the mother of his child; a cradle of love and life. A force of nature just as capable of protecting as his to protect. A goddess in her own right; awaiting as to hear out his scrambled thoughts since he appeared to pause a brewing storm of desire.

“Gods, bosorka moja, you could lead a man into madness-“

You tugged at his hair the slightest bit, pulling his mouth back to yours, a hushed whisper of ‘ľubim ťa’ falling from your lips to his and back, and Steven was lost to that very madness, and hoped to never be found again.

Instead, he wandered over the gorgeous landscape of your body, mapping every enticing curve and soft valley even as one of his hands already reached the destination, welcomed with everything he could ever desire. He’d make the journey the goal for it was pure bliss and he was wandering but in his very home, lands he lived to explore and worship over and over again, nothing short of reverent.

And should his will be yours as well, he’d see to nestle at home and never ever depart again, leaving behind traces that could never be erased.

Breaths coming out short, lips parted; a slight arch to your back limited by Steven’s grasp, the most loving cage where the gift of overwhelming pleasure bordered on a punishment.

Thoughts scattered and dissolved in bliss, feelings and sensations were ruling instead – and yet they served you all the same; a lover’s sense as strong as a mother’s instinct.

Love so profound you’d see it – feel it, taste it, breathe it – all the same should you be robbed of all senses at once, was poured into Steve’s every action, touching your very heart and soul as much as ever; and yet. There was a shift tonight, a softly crackling change in the air. You could tell. A lover knows.

Steven’s touch felt different tonight, as did his undivided attention. Thumbs pressing a tad firmer into your hips as he held you down, lips drinking as if with insatiable thirst, leaving your throat raw from soundless cries. Lips wandering, hands grasping, dark gaze following every trace his heated touch left behind, praises rolling off of his tongue; of soft, soft plump skin, so warm and welcoming, a gift, a grail, the only home he’d ever want, a breath-taking art to wreck and recreate all over again; Sinful words written by your husband’s lips all over your body like poetry quietly read to a lover’s ear in hidden corners of the castle only known to those who wished to hide their desires from prying eyes.

With bliss worthy of gods gifted you once, twice, Steven’s heavy-lidded eyes kept hypnotizing you through between the valley of your breasts, the pads of his fingers appreciating the flesh so carefully but with intangible visceral need. His intent gaze grew impossibly dark – the last image you saw before your eyes slipped shut with a rasp of his name, your body trembling with ecstasy for the third time that night.

Distantly aware of your magic casting lights and shadows over your little cabin, setting inanimate objects in motion, a breathless chuckle left your lips.

Your beloved pressed a firm sloppy kiss above your belly button, thumb running over your hipbone to ease you down to earthly low as he had lifted you to heavenly heights; lingering, he breathed you in, over and over for so long a flicker of concern wormed its way into your foggy mind.

“Rytier moj?”

His palm sprawled over your abdomen, replacing his mouth; he peppered kisses over your sternum, over the flesh of your breasts, his gaze meeting yours with such heat and something so familiar and yet ungraspable it sent a shiver down your spine, a tingle in the back of your mind.

Something truly was different tonight. In his touch, in his gaze, in his aura—a good man, a loyal man, fighter, protector, father, lover-

“You are the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a goddess, láska moja…” he declared quietly, his lips brushing yours with tenderness that would make the gods themselves weep, and you as well. “Your body is a miracle I shall worship over and over.”

The tingle in the back of your mind sparkled brighter, recognition dawning oh so slowly, your rapidly beating heart thundering now.

Worship. Religious reverence; in mortal flesh.

He had laid you on your marriage bed as if it had been an altar itself, an offering to gods and goddesses and a prayer to the one he had just deemed you all at once.

The holy grail. A miracle.

A goddess.

Gathering your swirling thoughts as you would have gathered raindrops during the first full moon of spring, you realized therein lied the difference of this night; the most devoted of husbands, your Steven, your knight, blurring the lines of human and celestial.

Devotion and worship.

His love had always reached beyond human understanding of just how much of affection a single heart, even the brightest of souls, may contain and pour into another, filling your chest with sensation no language of men or gods could hope to describe; and yet tonight, it went beyond the beyond.

Every single gesture, every word, whispers of prayers to a godlike entity; his lips pressed to your body as if he glimpsed and touched the divine through your body. Through you. In you.

“Blasphemy,” slipped from your lips, no more power in the admonition than in your blissed out body, the recognition of utter adoration your husband harboured for you rendering you unable to catch your breath.

“It is not, gods must forgive me,” Steven responded, stubborn as he could be, the darkness in his eyes turning warmer as his lips pressed over your heart, involuntary tears prickling in your eyes at the sincerity lacing his hoarse voice, his absent smile. “Beautiful, soft and strong… made for loving… my precious wife, the mother of my child-“

“Our child,” you corrected him, your voice cracking with emotion rather than humour, your fingers carding through his locks.

Steven’s smile only widened, eyes glimmering.

“Yes, ours. Indeed, my love. Our blessing…”

He captured your mouth again, soft and demanding, drinking from your lips as if they tasted of ambrosia the gods themselves offered to him.

A gift. A miracle made to worship. Your body.

A goddess, love and life, his wife, the mother of his-

Realization struck you like a lightning out of clear skies, your body was overtaken by a tremble, frantic heart stumbling in your ribcage.

Blurring the lines towards the divine was but a minute shift your Steven had been building up to ever since the day he had first laid his lips on yours, since he had first made love to you.

No, the true difference of tonight was laid in purpose. Purposebeyond sharing your love together, purpose beyond bliss.

A child.

Your husband’s action, while guided by profound love, were spurred by desire and new longing. He wished for another child; the divine miracle your body, when loved by his, was capable of.

The closest to a goddess. A prayer. A plea. An offering.

“Láska moja… I shall give you my everything,” he promised sweetly, a sinfully sincere tilt to his words. “If you only let me, if you’d only give me, us, more than a man can ask, more than I can give but shall forever worship you for, fight to be worthy of…”

A surge of power that had nothing to do with magic filled your veins, affection so urgent it panged sharply in your heart and your tears spilled over, your voice caught in your throat.

Gods, you wanted.

To give him, to give yourself, to give to your daughter--- to be blessed by the gods once more, a blinding image flickering behind your eyelids.

Your daughter, sat on your Steven’s shoulders, placing a crown weaved of daisies on his head, her musical laughter filling the air, causing your lips to curl up in a smile; familiar. Such a familiar image, one that had once given you strength to battle the impossible; now changing. The idyllic image of a meadow with your husband and your child growing brighter, your gaze suddenly snapping to the firm grip on your thigh; a set of small hands pressing various herbs and flowers to your skirts, an adorable chuckle and a joyous cry of ‘for mama—pretty!’ reaching your ears even as the face of the boy remained somewhat blurry beyond the warm blue of his eyes. Your Steven’s eyes-

With a gasp you snapped your eyes open, Steven’s dextrous fingers continuing their appreciation of your burning skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo with his wet lips, lighting your sated needs alive.

“You are literally glowing, bosorka moja… say yes,” he coaxed, “say yes and I will keep you sated and so full every day, every night, until my seed comes to fruition… another little one, your belly swelling with our child, a little miracle-- I shall take such good care of you, my love, of all of you, I swear as gods are my witnesses-“

A minute crack to his voice, having been dripping sweet and sinful like honey; regret and desire so pure you could not bear his words anymore, reaching out to cradle his cheeks and silence him with a kiss.

You could taste it on your tongue; something so primal and possessive as laying claim, to continue one’s bloodline, gently laced with a need of much noble nature. To protect. To take care. To provide. Read minds you could not, but a lover knows. A wife knows. The hitch in his voice could have been caused by myriad of reasons and yet you had no doubt, your heart feeling more than reason; it laid heavy on his conscience still that he had not known from the very start of you being with a child, that he could have not been treating you as you’d deserved in his mind. Not treated the way his love, the mother of his child, a goddess in her own right should have been.

He wished to be there. He wished to be the kind of man he believed you were worthy of.

You let your lips drink from his and hoped he could taste your truth on your tongue; by gods, he was worthy. If he could only understand just how much, how overwhelming loving him could be, how you’d perish before not giving him whatever he should ask; if he only knew how you would wish for another child yourself.

“Yes, Steven-- by gods, yes-“

Heart stumbling in his chest under your palm, he tore his mouth from yours, gaze roaming your face in the soft light of the dying fire in the hearth.

“Yes?” he breathed, dark eyes sparkling with delight, the curve to his kiss-swollen lips as sinful as blinding.

You could not but chuckle, fresh tears spilling over the undiluted joy and determination he observed you with.

“Yes, rytier moj. Let us make love and create it all the more.”

He stole all air from your lungs with his next kiss, hands setting to a journey with clear destination ahead, his large body nearly vibrating with acute need his touch seemed to pour straight into your veins, heat burning low in your belly as you arched against him.

“Please-“

“Oh such a sweet plea,” he chuckled darkly, a teasing touch to assure you still awaited him more than prepared, before giving you just a hint of the pleasure he was about to shatter you with. “My precious wife, my wonderful bosorka, I shall give you anything you ask, anything you need…”

Your silent keen of his name was drowned in his mouth, the soundless cry of yes as he finally moved to make love to you as gods intended drowned in a cry piercing the cabin-

-but not one of pleasure. Of discomfort and misery.

A pair of lovers frozen in time for several frantic beats of hearts.

Steven groaned, lips detaching from yours with true blasphemy.

“I am afraid your little one does not long for a sibling,” he grumbled, taking a deep breath, slowly, oh so slowly and carefully moving away, eliciting a soft gasp from you despite his great effort – and a tired chuckle as you too returned to earthly realms in which your child – yours and Steven’s – demanded your attention.

“Oh, mine, is she now?” you challenged him cheekily as you went to stand up and tend to your momentarily not-quite-joyous bundle of joy.

Steven’s warm palm sprawled over your shoulder, pressing you down gently.

“I shall get her.”

“She is likely hungry-”

“Then I shall bring her,” he said, leaving no room for arguing despite his soft tone. “You rest, my love.”

Melting against your bed, you obeyed, a content hum rumbling in Steven’s chest as he leaned to you and briefly pressed his lips to your forehead.

As soon as he moved away, you sat up still; if for nothing else then for the precious sight of your husband crossing the modest interior of the cabin to reach into the cradle, large hands reverently careful as he picked up your daughter to the protective cage of his arms, cooing silently at her to settle her cries. Your heart swelled with pride and overwhelming affection, your blessings counted one by one, over and over.

Cherishing the feeling of holding his child, Steven took too long of moments to bring her and nestle her in your arms instead. Lingering with his touch, he pressed the sweetest of kisses to the crown of your head as you whispered to your daughter and begun to nurse her, before he busied himself with maintaining the fire. And yet, the moment his chore was done, he hurried to seat himself by your side again, wrapping his arms around the most important ladies in his whole world, gaze so warm you could feel it without tearing your own away from the child attached to your breast.

And once your little one was sated, cries having long turned into content coos, a few sleepy blinks of her large blue eyes bringing her to the land of dreams again, your knight without shiny armour gathered her to his protective embrace again, carrying her back to her cradle just as slowly, laying her down with a tender kiss and a whisper of ‘ľubim ťa, maličká’.

As he returned, you took his hand and coaxed him to lie next to you, his arms spreading to hold you close and warm through the night, shifting to hide his face in your hair.

Oh your sweet knight, so dutiful in watching over his beloveds’ sleep… so wholly unaware of how your body, while worn to a bone, had been charged with a taste of something wonderful and exciting; yearning, craving, unbearable.

He released but a soft noise of surprise when your hand found its way through the warm cage of his arms, escaping the loving embrace to cup his face, gaze flickering over his handsome features.

“Bosorka moja?”

A smile forming on your lips, you leaned forward, capturing his mouth in a slow, sensual kiss, palms caressing the expanse of his shoulders – the large arms of a protector, provider, lover – body pressing to his as your hands began to wander.

“You made me a promise, rytier moj,” you whispered, sultriness creeping into your voice, causing your Steven’s breath to catch, fingers, having grasped at you so tenderly during your kiss, flexing on the flesh of your waist. “Are you not keeping it? Have you changed your mi-”

Your breathless laughter was the last sound your lips were allowed to release before Steve responded to your affection with vigour, rolling your bodies over to trap yours under his soothing weight, fingers running over the lines of your body to continue where you two had left of.

“Oh, I always keep my promises, bosorka moja.”

You brushed your fingertips over his cheek, a moment of slow gentleness before descending into the whirlwind of passion, a smile playing on your lips.

“I know, láska moja. Then let us deliver on this one.”

bosorka moja - witch mine rytier moj - knight mine láska moja - love mine maličká - little one (to a child) ľubim ťa - I love you

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist (now with blurb masterlist as well)

I'm going to scream into the void after this for a while 🥹🫠😩 You're welcomed to join me!

Thank you for reading, loves 💕 If you enjoyed and can spare a few seconds of a minute to reblog or comment, you shall have my gratitude ✨

I hope you'll have lovely Holidays, one way or the other 💕

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers #steve rogers #medieval au #fairytale au #fantasy au #captain america #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #mine yours ours #anika ann

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comatosebunny09 · 1 year ago

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Stuck on this royalty AU in which you’ve rejected King Astarion’s advances too many times.

You’ve been his bodyguard for years. One of the few people who’s seen the man beneath the crown, stripped bare and bleeding. Naturally, you both grew to care for each other more than a king and subject should.

Astarion’s come dangerously close to confessing his feelings for you. But you’ve always staved him off, believing you’re unfit to be anything more than one who serves him. Never his equal.

Cue you sabotaging your budding romance by suggesting he pursue people of his caliber.

He humors you if only to make you jealous. Even the maids know how this man pines for you.

One day, he takes the hand of a beautiful young woman to tour his garden, whispering things into her ear to make her giggle. He perches a hand at the small of her back. Smiles in that charming, boyish way that he typically reserves for you. He puts on a show just for you, his gaze often flitting over his shoulder because he knows you’re following dutifully behind.

Try as you might to mask your ire, he can practically hear the gears whirring in your head. You’re so blinded by your jealousy that you go stumbling into a pond. How comical a sight you pose, the king’s professional and stone-faced guard dog, sputtering and flailing about like a wet cat.

You’re mortified as his servants scramble to get you out, your cape and armor waterlogged. Astarion instinctively moves to assist, wriggling out of the young woman’s hold. You lock eyes with your king as he reaches for you. Over his shoulder, you watch his guest stifle a giggle behind her gloved hand.

Your heart plummets into your stomach. You could only hope to be someone as beautiful and titillating. The king deserves someone cut from a similar cloth as him, not a lowly dog with calluses on their hands and scars littering their body.

You dismiss yourself with a curt bow, your dignity bruised, your eyes burning with the threat of tears. Hardly notice Astarion briskly excusing himself from his guest to follow you.

You stomp into the servant’s quarters, a few maids scuttling about with towels to dry you off. You’re so embarrassed you don’t even have the voice to tell them you can do it yourself. Astarion cautiously wanders in, quietly dismissing the maids to fetch you a change of uniform.

You can’t meet his eye as he kneels before you, trying vainly to hide his smile whilst he towels you off.

“I’m not even sure what you’re jealous of. You’re the one who told me to move on, remember?” the king softly scolds.

You scoff. “Jealous? Me?”

Astarion gives you a deadpan look. “Darling, you practically drowned yourself trying to get an earful of our conversation.”

“Did not.”

“Right. I suppose the pond stepped into your way, then?”

Another scoff accompanied by heat blooming into your cheeks.

“Come now, darling. As lovely as you are, green just isn’t your color.”

You cut your eyes at him in warning, to which he chuckles something deep and alluring.

Astarion pats your knee, standing to his full height. He offers you his hand, insisting you take it with a look after you refuse him. He pulls you to him, uncaring if his doublet gets wet, pilfering the breath from your lungs.

The king gazes down at you with all the tenderness of the world, his hand splayed at the small of your back. The proximity of your body causes your mind to whirl and your lips to part with a gasp.

“Let’s get you changed, hmm?”

You worry your bottom lip with your teeth. “What about your date, Majesty?”

Astarion shrugs, rolling his eyes dismissively. “I’m sure she’ll find someone else to occupy her time. I’ve more…important matters to attend to,” he says, his gaze simmering like a low flame.

He ushers you into the hallway, steering you towards his room to get you cleaned up. A luxury only you know, no one else having been allowed to see his room as often as you have.

You shiver, still soaked to the bone. Astarion tucks you close into his side, rubbing your arm to ward off the chill. You smile triumphantly quietly, knowing you’re the only person he’s touched like this in years.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #royalty au #let me dream #king!astarion #astarion romance #astarion fluff #astarion imagine

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leighsartworks216 · 2 months ago

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Until All That Remains

Vampire!Sylus x gn!Human!Reader

I wanted to get this out for Halloween, but I was too tired. Originally started in the Castlevania universe where Reader was a Belmont and they fight Godbrand, but I wanted it to be its own thing

Warnings: vampire au, vampire/human relationship, royalty au, swearing, kissing, biting, blood, injury, violence, slight nudity, devotion

Word Count: 2,703

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus sighs as he presses his nose against your neck, rubbing it behind your ear and along your jaw. You smell delicious, always, but especially now, in plain view of his brethren.

It’s a scandal of a relationship. When he first announced it to his fellow vampires, they’d been quick to shun him, spit on his name, denounce his title. Advisors he’d trusted for centuries turned their cheeks and disappeared into the night. Old friends, gone with them. And none of it mattered - not when he had you.

You run your fingers through his long hair, arm wrapped lazily around his shoulders. You stare down the throng of guests. Ancient and gorgeous women who turn to each other and gossip. Matured and timeless men that scowl up at you. Each offensive look, each grimace, is met with your own tantalizing grin. Not only are you sitting on Sylus’s throne, you are sitting in his lap on his throne. Holding a human such as yourself in higher esteem than the dark king stirs discontent through the crowd.

It starts quiet, hours after the party has started, when alcohol and blood has loosened tongues. Murmurs here and there, whispers of disbelief. Confirmations of rumors they believed to be nothing but hearsay; a mortal really has stolen the King away! The tension is high in the air. Sylus can feel it, too. What does he care when his whole world sits on his leg, pliant to his touch as he caresses your thigh?

It only takes one arrogant young vampling to snap. “This is our king?” he asks, voice rising above the crowd. Guests part until he stands in an empty circle. “Our great leader? He has given himself over to a human! He refuses to even turn them into a vampire! It’s abhorrent!”

Sylus doesn’t act like he hears the outcry from the vampling. His lips trail the hollow of your throat to your pulse, right over that thick artery. Pulsing with life, with heat, with blood. The skin is hardly scarred, thanks to his tender care and attention. It takes all his focus not to do worse damage; when he tastes you on his tongue all his body wants to do is consume you. Every last drop of you. He is happy to fight against that instinct, that drive, to hear your beating heart.

“And he can’t even be bothered to listen now!”

“Why should I bother listening to an insolent child throwing a tantrum over things that do not concern him?” he hums lowly against your skin. It reaches the ears of everyone in the room regardless.

The vampling huffs. If he still had blood, you could imagine his face would be bright red. “All of us are thinking the same! Your rule has been corrupted by your fucking whore!”

Sylus’s eyes shoot open, focusing sharply on the vampling in the crowd as he slowly pulls his face away from your skin. Guests watch in deathly silence, looking between the King and this whiny subject who protests before him. Your whole body is taught, wound like a spring ready to be released. Your hand is still in his hair. Sylus leans back into his throne, his hands sliding off of your body.

“Fetch.”

You jump from his lap in a flash. A blade appears in your hand - an ornate dagger with rubies inlaid on the handle - seeming to appear from nothing with how quickly you removed it from your attire. You stalk toward your prey at a steady clip. The guests part to make way for you without hesitation, backing into each other and spilling chalices of blood onto expensive attire. They dare not part for the vampling.

You grab the back of his collar and rip him away from the blockade of guests. He stumbles over himself, landing on polished marble and scrambling back to his feet. He looks at you with unbridled terror, this weak little mortal he greatly underestimated.

The vampling steals a sword from one of the guests, drawing it from its sheath to swing it at you. You parry it off your dagger. You continue to advance. Each one of his sloppy strikes is parried away. His feet backpedal blindly, desperate to get away. They trip over the bottom stair that leads to the throne. He falls back against the steps. He looks over his shoulder up at Sylus. The King watches you in silence, sparing no attention to the pathetic man by his feet. He has always admired your strength - in body and spirit. To order it to his will is an intoxicating power, one he has sworn never to abuse.

In the moment of distraction, you grab the man by his collar again, lifting him from the step just to throw him to the tile floor. The sword skids away from his grasp, metal scraping horridly over marble. Before he can get up, you grab his arm and wrench it behind him, before shoving the ornate dagger through his wrist and into his lower back.

His screams echo off the ballroom walls. Blood seeps through his suit, staining his white sleeve crimson. When he reaches back to try pulling it out, you step on the pommel, pressing the steel deeper and ensuring it stays.

“Well, dearest?” Sylus asks, seemingly bored with the events that just transpired. “What do you say to keeping him around? You need a new toy, don’t you?”

The vampling gasps, pain and horror mixing into a guttural cry. If this was a mere glimpse into all you could - and would - do to him, he feared what the rest of his eternal life would behold. “Please! Please, no! Let me go!”

“Let you go? After you had the gall to spoil the party?” He snaps his fingers. Two henchmen in matching garb and masks appear at his sides. “You know what to do with him.”

“Yes, my Lord,” they speak at once, quickly going down the stairs to retrieve the new prisoner. They stop just before you, waiting to grab the man. The last time they tried to take your prey from you, you’d lashed out at them; they knew better now.

Sylus’s lip quirks up at the corner. “Heel.”

You finally let up. A resonating squelch sounds through the room, mingling with his cries, as you return your dagger to its place on your person, wiped clean on his fancy overcoat. You pass the twins, eyes set on the King only, until you are back at your lover’s side.

He stands to his full height, towering over the entire room. “If any of you question my authority or dare to insult my beloved again, I will hunt you down myself.” Their overwhelming and uneasy silence is all the answer he needs. With a wave of his hand, he says, “You’ve taken advantage of my hospitality long enough. Leave.” He rests his arm across your shoulders and guides you out of the hall, the quiet shuffling of feet and hopeless sobs behind you.

The castle is dark, naturally, but undeniably beautiful. Black and red mix to create a home any vampire would covet after. Golden candelabras line the hallways, illuminating the path to your shared bedroom. The tension that naturally sets in your muscles when fighting eases away with each step overtop the plush red rug.

“You did well, my love,” Sylus praises. His arm leaves your shoulders in favor of trailing his fingers down your arm, wordlessly keeping you pressed into him. “Did you have fun?”

You wrap an arm around his waist and tap twice against his hip. He grins.

The grand double doors creak, red and black tendrils of smoke guiding them open. The room is huge. The large canopy bed takes up the most room, the centerpiece. As tempting as it is to crawl straight under the covers, your clothes don’t make comfort a priority. The doors shut again, and you both fall into a wordless dance.

You remove his cloak for him, laying it over the back of his large desk chair. His nimble fingers undo the fastenings of your top, working diligently to free you from the confines of your finery. Each stitch was carefully designed, each aspect immaculately created just for you. It falls to the floor in a heap of fabric without a second thought. You reach up to do the same for him, untying his cravat first and dropping it to the side to get to the buttons up by his throat.

He can’t help reminiscing in moments like this. To see you now, exposing flesh to him without hesitation, baring yourself to him, allowing him to see your weaknesses; it’s surreal. When he first found you, it was in a burning heap of ash, what used to be a town. Corpses littered the main square, forming concentric circles of the dead with you at its center. Bloody, grasping onto life. And still picking up any weapon you could get your hands on, prepared to fight to the very end against him. You hadn’t even allowed him to tend to your wounds himself. He provided the salves, thread, cloth needed to heal them, and you hid away to do it all on your own. He hunted wild animals, forged berries and mushrooms and herbs, cooked as a human does to provide sustenance, without a whisper of his own cursed hunger.

You touch his cheek, drawing him back into the present. He offers a small grin, tracing his cool fingers over your warm skin to brush at the pinprick marks left on your neck. Your hands find his shoulders to push away the heavy garb and expose his pale skin to you. Your eyes stay on his as you lean forward to brush a kiss to his chest, just over where his undead heart would beat for you if it still could. He leans down to press his forehead to yours, nudging you away from his chest so he can admire your face completely.

“It is too late for you to be tempting me like this, my love,” he chides softly. You grin. He can’t help returning it.

“And what am I tempting you to, my Lord?” you whisper back. Your hands glide up and around his neck until they reach his hair, grown out to his shoulder blades. You twirl long locks around one finger, while the other scratches tantalizingly at the base of his skull.

He hums pleasantly, eyes becoming lidded as he succumbs to your sweet touch. “To you, of course. To your caress. To your kiss…” He sweeps his nose across your cheek, nuzzling just behind your earlobe, cold breath against your skin. “To your blood… To your body.”

You laugh softly, a mere huff of air. You turn to brush your nose with his again, staring with conviction into his eyes. “I cannot tempt you to something you already own.”

Something flickers within his sanguine irises. Something dark and wicked, possessive and demanding. A longing growl settles at the back of his throat. “To say such things…” he breathes. He leans into you insistently, forehead and nose together, eyes lingering on the thought of claiming your mouth. “I fear you do not realize just who belongs to who, here.”

“And who do you belong to?” Your breath, hot and shallow with anticipation, brushes over his lips. It takes everything in his power not to chase after it, to seek it out like a hound on the hunt. To wrap his teeth firmly around your jugular and squeeze until it is silenced.

His lips brush over yours with every word. “I will always belong to you, my beloved. Now, and in every age on this cursed rock. Until humanity has deteriorated into ash, and all that remains is me, your love, and the sunrise.”

You draw him in until his mouth is on yours. Shuddering breaths fill the silence, exhaled through your noses in small, ardent sounds. A quiet gasp when you have to tug his hair with both hands so you can refill your lungs with oxygen, cut off when he can’t bear to part for even more than a second. His own groans of appreciation, desire dripping from his grunts as you welcome his tongue into your mouth. The shaky moan he lets out when you press your tongue into his mouth and cut yourself on his sharp canines. He eagerly sucks on what little blood he can draw from the minor scratches.

Hunger floods his veins like a forest fire; all consuming and blinding. Even after the years he has had you like this, you still hold this power over him. The simple ability to lay a haze over his senses, until all he can focus on is the sound of your blood rushing around inside your body, the taste of your skin, and the smell of his next meal.

You’re panting in his ear when he seeks out your pulse. He noses the tiny scars, forcing himself to slow down, to calm himself. His shoulders shake with the effort it takes. You comb your fingers through his hair. The scratch of your nails along his scalp, the gentle tugs; the love in every touch eases his excitement. He kisses lightly over your pulse.

“May I, my beloved?”

You nod. “Always, my love.”

His tongue is hot as it licks over your neck, guiding his teeth to know where to sink in. With the ease of someone who has done this for millenia, he lines his fangs up with the past scars, and delicately bites down - as delicately as one can when breaking through flesh. Your sweet blood gushes into his mouth. He greedily slurps every drop, sucking on the punctures until they clot. A stray droplet glides down your throat to your collarbone. He sighs as he laps it up, tongue trailing up to the bite to lick it clean.

As loath as he is to pull away when you so perfectly invade his senses, the sun will be rising soon and you need to rest, fragile mortal that you are.

He sighs as he pulls back. Your eyes are still closed, fighting off the dizziness that comes with the blood loss. “Let’s get you to bed,” he coos. You let go of his hair in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck. He squats down to wrap his arms around your thighs and picks you up, carrying you with ease to your side of the huge bed. Not that sides mattered, when you both inevitably ended up in the center, clinging to one another.

He lays you down gently. Your pillows deflate under your head like clouds, blankets pulled up to your neck to keep you warm. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before he pulls away to round the bed. Before he gets under the blankets you have opened for him in your lethargic state, he opens the drawer of his nightstand to retrieve the glass container of healing salve.

He climbs in until his body is right up against yours, tucking his arm under your head so your neck is cradled and his bicep is your new pillow. You don’t have to be directed as you turn your face away to expose the red marks on your neck. It’s a familiar process by now. The hand of the arm supporting you holds the open container, while his other gathers the salve on two fingers and spreads it evenly across the wounds. The botanical, earthy smell masks your own scent; the one curse of this medicine he has learned to deal with.

Once he’s finished, he reaches over and leaves the container on top of your nightstand, so he doesn’t have to be apart from you any longer tonight. He slides down, drawing you into his chest and pressing his nose to the top of your head. Your arm drapes over his waist, your legs tangle with his, and you take his free hand to hold it over your heart.

Sleep claims you quickly. He lingers a while longer, just savoring the feel of your heart and the sound of your breaths.

---

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