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peaceisadirtyword · 3 years ago

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Heathen VI (Ivar/Edlynn)

A/N; Hello!♥️ I’m back after a short, holiday break! And even if these next weeks are going to be chaotic, I will try to keep posting Heathen once a week as I did before! There’s only another four (five with this one) left until the end👀, so I hope you enjoy it a lot🥰 I didn’t have time to reply to your comments on last chapter but I read all of them and I’m so happy to see you’re liking it🥺 thank you so much, it means the world🙏🏻 took a bit longer to finish this one because I wasn’t too convinced but I hope you like it too♥️

Warnings: smut ( 👀), talk of feelings, my cringey writing, Ivar is the best, mentions of alcohol, violence, sex and talk about arranged marriage and religious things!

Words: 4823 (will I ever stop)

Heathen Masterlist

gif belongs to @therealcalicali

"We could move here" Harald pointed at the map. Hvitserk followed his finger and pressed his lips together. Maybe a bit risky, he thought, but he didn't dare contradict the king because of strategical differences, that was Ivar's job "It's closer to the sea, and it would be easier to run away if the saxons decide to attack us once we don't have the saxon girl as leverage"

"It could be" he nodded, as he waited for Ivar's opinion. But as the minutes passed and his brother didn't say a word, Hvitserk raised his head to look at him.

Ivar was sitting in front of him, with a drink on his hand, but looking away. He didn't seem to be even listening to what they were saying, and when Hvitserk's eyes followed his gaze, he understood why.

His lips curved on a small smirk and immediately turned to look at Harald, who also seemed amused to have caught the ruthless Ivar the Boneless sneaking glances to a lady.

Edlynn was sitting on a cut tree, not very far away from them, and her eyes were fixed on a book that Hvitserk had seen on Ivar's tent. She only had a couple of guards with her, and her wrists were untied, giving her much more freedom than Hvitserk ever thought Ivar would give her.

"Ivar" he called his name, making him turn his head with a frown, almost like he was annoyed by his interruption "Are you listening?"

Harald held back a laugh when Ivar blinked, somewhat confused, until he spotted the map and the pieces the king had moved, and seemed to get out of his trance. His cheeks reddened softly, but he pretended not to realize as he scrutinized the map, trying to remember what had changed since Edlynn stepped out of the tent and his eyes wandered off.

Hvitserk raised his eyebrow. He already knew what was going on, since he caught Edlynn leaving the tent with swollen lips more than once and had seen them sleeping together, with her face hidden in Ivar's neck. But at first he thought his brother was just having some fun, not falling for the saxon girl. Those glances said otherwise.

"It would be risky" Ivar cleared his throat "I don't think Alfred would attack us once Edlynn is with him"

Harald raised his head again. Edlynn? He didn't know when Ivar started calling the prisoner by her name, but found it amusing.

"Then what do you propose?" Hvitserk tried to ignore it, but he would ask his brother about it "Shall we stay here?"

"I think we should move a bit closer to the boats, but not like it seems we're retiring" he shrugged "But it's your decision, king Harald"

Harald had gotten used to the mocking tone whenever Ivar said his title out loud. He didn't really care, it had started to sound like a joke to him too.

"I will think about it tonight, and tomorrow we'll decide"

But just when he was about to stand up, maybe too eager to go back to his tent, a guard approached them.

Edlynn pretended not to realize he was staring. Neither of them talked about it but both of them seemed to think the same: no one should know of their... Affair? She couldn't help but blush whenever she thought about it. Well, she didn't even know if it could be considered an actual affair. There had been kisses, some more innocent than others, Ivar had touched her body in a way no one had in her entire life, she had let her hands wander down his strong arms and chest, but nothing more. It was still a sin, something she didn't want people knowing. Edlynn would be mortified if someone heard about it, about what she was doing with a... Heathen.

But the thing that alarmed her the most weren't the kisses or the caresses, not even the fire that Ivar awakened in her, but the warmth that expanded through her chest whenever she saw him, the smiles, the little laughs, the reddened cheeks... She couldn't think about anything else that weren't his blue eyes and his pouty lips, nor could pray in peace without remembering how soft his hair was under her fingers or what a beautiful smile he had. Every night she promised she'd stop, that she wouldn't let herself fall in love with him, but sometimes, especially under the furs and between his arms, she thought there was nothing she could do now.

It was temporal, Edlynn tried not to think about what would happen when she had to go back to her family, to Lord Edmund, the man who was supposed to be her husband. Would she ever feel the same with him? Probably not, and the thought saddened her. It was such a beautiful feeling she wished she could carry forever.

Even if it was hard, and even if she knew many people in the camp suspected it, Edlynn tried to act like nothing had happened. They barely talked to each other in public, but she noticed he was always close to her, or at least close enough to be able to watch her. She liked that.

Edlynn was reading, but she hadn't turned the page in what felt like hours, too focused on the glances that certain man threw her way and on hiding her blush. Until someone else approached the three men that sat down not too far away from her. She raised her head, interested, as the man seemed to carry important news. Even if she had understood their language, she wouldn't have heard anything, as the noise of the camp was too loud. But she could see the king with a big smile, celebrating something. And Ivar had frowned and his eyes were now fixed on the ground at his feet.

When he finally looked her way again, he ignored the silent question on her eyes and looked directly at the guard that stood next to her, pointing to his own tent with his head. And Edlynn was practically dragged towards it.

____________________________________

That night they celebrated. The reason was still a mystery to her, but Edlynn tried to ask every single person that entered the tent, from Brianna to Hvitserk, without receiving any answer. She could hear the happy screams and laughs, and figured it couldn't be bad, right?

At least not for them.

A shiver travelled down her spine when she thought about her family, would they be alright? Had those heathens killed them?

And then Ivar came back.

His eyes were bright and Edlynn figured he had been drinking too. His movements were slow, and let himself fall on the bed with a grunt, letting his crutch go before rubbing his face with his hands.

"Hello" Edlynn raised an eyebrow, why do men drink so much if they feel bad afterwards?

"Hi, princess" he muttered, grunting "How was your day?" Ivar sat on the bed, sighing. It had been a long day, and it seemed it would be a long night too.

"Clearly not as interesting as yours"

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't turn to look at her.

"I was trying to negotiate" he shrugged "And king Harald negotiates better when there's ale"

"Negotiate what?" Edlynn narrowed her eyes, moving a bit closer to him.

_____________________________________

"The saxons will agree to our terms" the messenger smiled proudly as he delivered the news "They will pay, and give us land and time to settle" he nodded "In exchange for the saxon girl"

Harald's laugh startled Ivar, who stared at the messenger intensely.

"Of course they will!" he celebrated, nodding his head and patting Ivar's back softly "You were right, once again"

He shot him a fake smile, which faded as soon as the king turned to Hvitserk. He thought he'd have more time, that asking for such a ridiculous amount of gold, land and a truce would be too much to give for just one girl, and that the saxons would try and change the terms. That would've given him weeks, even months. His eyes went back to where Edlynn was sitting, and silently told the guard to take her away.

"The saxon king said they shall wait for us in the battlefield to make the exchange, and that the girl must be unharmed and well, otherwise they won't give us what we asked for"

"Thank you, my friend" Harald patted the soldier's shoulder with a bright smile "Go, eat and rest, tonight we'll celebrate"

Hvitserk didn't stop looking at Ivar. He noticed how he clenched his jaw and licked his lips repeatedly. He felt his own lips curving on a smile, but just slapped his head playfully.

That night they did celebrate. Everyone sang, drank and ate next to the king, around a fire. Another victory, thanks to Ivar. But Ivar didn't seem too keen on participating on the celebrations.

"What's it, Ivar?" Hvitserk sat next to him as he saw him pour the ale on his horn for the fifth time "Aren't you happy to get rid of the saxon girl and get paid for it?" he chuckled, but his brother didn't laugh with him.

"I just think..." Ivar clenched his jaw again "Maybe the price is too low"

"Low?" Hvitserk raised an eyebrow "We didn't think they'd agree, it's too much, that price would fit a queen, but not a noble girl"

"Yes but they did agree to it" he shook his head "What if... What if we ask for more?"

"They would say no, and the negotiations would continue, we don't want that" his older brother frowned and shook his head, taking another sip from his horn "Because we don't want that, right?"

"No" Ivar replied maybe too fast, and then scowled "It's just that I don't think we've benefited enough from holding her captive, she's obviously more important than we thought"

"Well, dear brother, if I'm honest, I think you've benefited quite a lot from having her here" he chuckled, patting Ivar's leg softly. His brother widened his eyes at him, but managed to hide his surprise and go back to scowling.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hvitserk"

"Sure" he laughed, shaking his head "Sure, you don't know, but it's quite obvious, Ivar" he shot him a soft smile "I can't blame you, she's pretty, innocent... I thought you didn't like saxon girls"

"Shut up" he rolled his eyes, but Hvitserk saw the little smile he tried to hide "I'm not trying to keep her here, I just want to make sure we get the deal that benefits us the most, that's all"

"Fine, I believe you" this time it was Hvitserk's turn to roll his eyes "Tell Harald, then, but I don't think he will agree"

"I was waiting for him to get drunk" Ivar shrugged, making his brother laugh.

"Good luck then" Hvitserk winked at him before getting up "Want advice?"

"No"

"Don't fall in love" he ignored him "That doesn't end well"

_________________________________

Ivar finally gave up, and went back to the tent, in need of some peace and maybe the soft touch of the woman that sat on he bed behind him. Harald didn't listen, and they kept celebrating.

"Your king agreed to our terms" he said, finally turning his head to look at her. Edlynn wore another dress they had found for her, with her auburn hair loose, and she looked so beautiful Ivar had to blink a couple of times. He wanted to see her reaction, would she be happy? Or would she feel as weird as he had been feeling all day?

But instead she looked confused.

"What... What does that mean?"

"That means we'll meet them in a few days and I will let you go"

Edlynn gasped, but instead of feeling relieved and thankful, eager to see her family again, to see Mildrith, to go home... She looked into those ocean eyes and only felt a strange emptiness inside her.

I must be insane, she thought as she crawled closer to him. Ivar's eyes didn't left her face, almost like he was waiting for her to smile, laugh and sigh in relief.

Edlynn didn't do any of those things.

"Aren't you happy?" he gulped.

"I... I suppose I am" she muttered "But..."

I know, he thought, nearly desperately. He couldn't describe it either.

"You'll go back to your castle, you'll marry your lord, you'll be with your family and will have a church to pray to your God every time you want"

"Yes, but..."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?" he sounded sharper than he intended.

"I don't want that anymore" Edlynn scowled "I don't want to go back and marry, I don't want to spend my days sewing, gossiping with other women and praying"

Not so long ago, she wouldn't have even imagined she'd say those words, that was her life, a life she had enjoyed and lived happily. But now... Now she had tried other things, new things... Was it that bad to want to keep them?

"I know it's my duty" she continued, the tears threatened to fall down her cheeks, but she held them as she had been taught "And I know I will have to do it someday but I... I will miss you"

Ivar looked away, clenching his jaw again and hoping she didn't see the tears filling his eyes. The thought of entering that tent and finding it empty, without the familiar presence of the annoying saxon girl praying or reading, of spending his nights studying maps alone instead of the books in latin Edlynn would read for him, or talking about the Gods, about the adventures of Thor and Loki or the golden apples of Idunn was... Not what he wanted.

Not even the possibility of conquering England was helping.

He felt Edlynn getting closer, and her small hand, with her soft fingers that had never held any kind of weapon, touched his shoulder. Ivar felt dizzy, but couldn't know if it was because of the ale or because of her.

"I will miss you too"

The words left his lips before he could hold them back, and when he raised his head to look at her, Edlynn had the biggest smile on her lips. She almost made him smile too.

"I... You could come and visit me someday?" she muttered, biting her lip "My friend Mildrith would love to meet you, she's obsessed"

Ivar raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think your father or your husband would let me visit you? You're supposed to hate me"

Edlynn's smile faded.

"I don't hate you" she tilted his head in an adorable way, and Ivar had to look away again "You were a bit mean at first, but you're not like they say you are... And he's not my husband"

"Yet" he shrugged "What do they say about me?"

Edlynn giggled, shaking her head.

"Mildrith said you're the Devil, in a human shape, that you are ruthless and... I heard you drink blood and eat human flesh"

Ivar couldn't help but laugh.

"I don't eat human flesh" he scowled in disgust "Do you think I could be that Devil you talk about?"

Edlynn took a deep breath, and her fingers caressed softly his cheek.

"You could be" she said, nodding slowly "You're smart, ambitious, ruthless, but also beautiful, like a fallen angel" Edlynn blushed "You do tempt me to sin"

Ivar smirked, humming in delight. She had a lot more to say about his looks, but decided to keep it to herself to avoid feeding his ego.

"And you would invite me, the heathen who tempts you, to your home with your father and your husband?"

Edlynn blushed again.

"He's not my husband" she repeated.

"But you're going to marry him, princess, he will be your husband soon, unless..."

His eyes fixed on the axe he had next to the bed, and Edlynn gasped and punched his arm.

"Don't even think about it!"

Her reaction amused Ivar, who shook his head laughing. Even if he wasn't actually joking.

"Lord Edmund is a good man, a good christian, he will take care of me" she said quietly, almost trying to convince herself "And it will be a good thing for my family"

"From what I've seen, princess, you don't need anyone to take care of you" he sighed, leaning to undo his braces. She smiled at that, feeling that warmth fill her body again. It was a huge compliment coming from him.

When he finished taking off the braces and removed most of his clothes Edlynn was already under the furs, her eyelids felt heavy but she forced herself to stay awake. She wanted to enjoy every moment she had left with him, knowing she wouldn't see him again. They still had some days, though, that comforted her.

Ivar nearly moaned when he finally was able to lay on the bed. His eyes had been a bit more blue that morning, so it had been a difficult day. Edlynn watched him in silence, amazed by the perfection of his features. How could he be the Devil when he looked sculpted by God? He was too beautiful to be impure, but then again, he was a heathen. Her mind went back to his wife, and a strange pang of jealousy stroke her. What would he do if she kissed him now?

"It's rude to stare, princess"

Ivar had an amused smirk on his lips, which only grew when he saw Edlynn's glare.

"Remember when I said I'd miss you? Well, I take it back"

That made him laugh.

"Go to sleep, little one" he muttered, already closing his eyes "Maybe I can teach you some more archery before you leave, but only if you rest"

He could hear a little gasp and imagined her excited smile, but didn't open his eyes until he felt her crawling closer to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. When he did look at her, she was already ready to sleep, with her eyes closed and breathing slowly.

"Good night, heathen"

Ivar couldn't help but smile, too.

"Good night, princess"

______________________________________

Ivar was cold. He stirred in his sleep looking for the source of warmth he was missing, but opened his eyes when he couldn't find it.

The bed was empty, he frowned and pawed at the furs, confused. Where is she?

The thought of her escaping made him more sad than angry, and he was nearly gasping when he finally spotted her. Edlynn sat on the wooden stool next to his table, studying the paintings of one of the books he had at the dim light of a nearly melted candle.

"Sorry" she pouted, looking at him with widened eyes "I didn't mean to wake you up"

"You didn't" he groaned, rubbing his eyes "What are you doing awake? It's the middle of the night"

He couldn't hear anything outside the tent, only the hushed voices of some guards, and it was still dark.

"I couldn't sleep" she shrugged.

"Come back to bed" he nearly ordered, narrowing his eyes at her. Edlynn held back a laugh as she closed the book, leaning in to blow the candle before making her way back to the bed. Ivar watched her as she crawled under the furs and laid back, with her eyes still open.

"It feels strange to go back and marry someone else"

Ivar frowned in the darkness of the tent.

"What does that mean?"

"You're the first man I shared the bed with" she muttered "The first man I kissed... The first touching me. I always believed that man would be my husband"

"I'm also the first man that made you a prisoner" he teased, and Edlynn rolled her eyes with a small smile.

"I don't think you understand"

"Then tell me"

"I want you to be the last, too"

Edlynn bit her own tongue after saying it, taking a deep breath as Ivar turned to look at her. She nearly regretted it, but... Why hide it? They probably wouldn't see each other again. She was just telling the truth, like a good christian.

"You don't know what you're saying"

His answer confused her even more.

"What?"

"I... We're on different sides, princess" he sighed, and held himself back from reaching out to caress her cheek "I am a heathen, remember?"

"But you're good to me" she pouted, and Ivar nearly leant in to kiss her "I've seen you talk about your Gods with passion, laugh with your brother, I've seen you bonding with your men and even stroking horses... You're not the monster they talk about, at least not now... You treated me well... As well as you can treat a prisoner, I don't see how you're different from any christian man I know"

Ivar couldn't help but smile and lean his forehead against hers, his fingers tingled, desperate to touch her. He felt a faintly familiar warmth inside his chest.

"You have to go back home, princess" he insisted "You'll forget about me and will learn to hate me again"

"I will never hate you" she muttered, and then there was silence. Ivar nearly thought she had fallen asleep again, and kept relaxing against her body, listening to her breathing.

"Ivar" it was the first time he had heard her saying his name, and it sounded so soft with her voice... He looked at her, who had her eyes fixed on his Mjölnir necklace "Kiss me?"

It sounded more like a question than a demand. Edlynn wasn't nearly ready when she felt his strong hand around the side of her neck and his lips pressed against hers. She sighed in delight and kissed him back, grabbing his arm shyly. She had missed his kisses so much... What would she do without them?

Ivar deepened the kiss, making Edlynn moan quietly and mover her hand to his face, cupping hit softly until her fingers touched his hair. Ivar's hand roamed down her body, settling on her waist and nearly touching her ass. Things were getting out of control, and Ivar didn't know how much he could keep things... Like that.

Edlynn moved even closer, and now he could feel her breasts against his bare chest. Ivar sighed and smiled against her sweet lips, tightening his grip around her waist. They broke the kiss to breathe, and Edlynn smiled brightly at him before leaning in to kiss him again.

"We can stop whenever you want" he groaned as her thigh pressed against his cock, making it twitch.

"I don't want to stop" she replied, frowning, and he nearly laughed.

Edlynn was serious. She had heard about it more than once, her whole life everyone assured that it was painful and not enjoyable at all for women, but everything Ivar did in that moment felt good... Why wouldn't that feel good then?

"I thought you weren't allowed to do this" he panted as Edlynn's lips landed on his jaw softly. Her kisses were shy, inexperienced, innocent... Completely different from Katia, Freydis or Margrethe, the only women he had ever kissed, but just as effective.

"I'm not" she giggled "Should I stop?"

"No" Ivar groaned and tightened his grip on her waist. If they stopped now, he was going to go crazy. He had tried to erase her body from his mind since he saw her in the river that day, and he had failed.

"I want to do this" she muttered, interrupting their kisses to look at his eyes again "Because I've been told men like it, a lot" she blushed, but the darkness hid it "And I want you to remember me"

"Trust me, princess" Ivar squirmed under her, his body reacting to her closeness "I was going to remember you anyway"

When they kissed again, he tugged at the skirt of her dress, nearly moaning when he finally was able to touch her bare skin. It was soft, warm, and Ivar felt her stiffen when he caressed her leg. Her hand traced the ink lines of his chest as his lips traveled down her neck, Edlynn gasped and let out a shaky breath, biting her tongue. She was supposed to be silent, right?

"Women can also enjoy this" he said against her skin, his fingers reached her inner thigh and Edlynn's muscles tensed under his touch "Want me to show you?"

He smirked when she nodded shyly. Edlynn was biting her lip and looking down in curiosity, even if she couldn't see his hand approaching her sex. Ivar wasn't too sure of what he was doing, but kept reaching until he finally touched her, and Edlynn let out a strangled sound and he quickly looked at her. She had closed her eyes and her nails were digging on his skin. Ivar kept caressing her folds until he reached the place that made her jump and moan loudly.

Edlynn quickly covered her mouth as Ivar smirked with pride and started circling his fingers as his brothers had said more than once. He would have loved to go down and kiss her properly, but didn't want to scare her so soon.

When Ivar finally pressed two fingers to her entrance, Edlynn opened her eyes, looking both aroused and confused at the same time.

"Relax" he whispered, reaching to kiss her softly "How does it feel?"

She was gasping, but managed to reply with a small moan and a frown.

"Weird" she muttered "But... Good"

"Good" he nodded, and increased the pace, making Edlynn moan again and grab his arm "I've got you, princess"

She was shaking between his arms as he started curling his fingers inside her, enjoying the way her walls clenched around them and the incoherent moans she let out. His hand was covered with wetness, and finally Ivar retrieved his hand, making Edlynn whimper in protest.

But he needed both hands to tear that stupid dress apart.

She gasped and blushed when he finally was able to throw the pieces of fabric away, to reveal her entire naked body to his eyes. Ivar growled and his lips collapsed against hers again. His hands were everywhere, touching her breasts, her belly and her ass at the same time, and soon his mouth followed them. She nearly felt overwhelmed, where she expected pain and discomfort she only got pleasure, a different kind of pleasure, and she needed more, so much more.

Ivar finally pushed her to lay down on the bed, and moved to crawl between her legs to keep kissing her.

"Want me to fuck you, princess?"

Edlynn widened her eyes, but her legs tightened around his waist and Ivar put his pants down just enough to free his cock. He enjoyed the surprise on her face when she saw it, not used to women being impressed by him.

"Look at me" he muttered, noticing how she grew nervous "Do you trust me?"

Edlynn allowed herself to get lost into his eyes again, nodding slowly and grabbing his neck as he pressed into her slowly. Ivar needed all of his willpower to keep a slow pace to avoid hurting her too much. She scrunched her nose in pain and closed her eyes. Ivar wasn't an expert, but he knew that, for women, it was painful the first time. Her little shrieks of pain brought back some not very nice memories from his own first time.

"Hey, princess, open your eyes" he stopped moving, even if he was already shaking from feeling her tight walls around him, when Edlynn obeyed, she had tears in her eyes "Am I hurting you too much?"

She shook her head and licked her lips.

"Just a bit"

"I'm sorry" he kissed her temple and let out a shaky breath "I promise it gets better"

His own eyes were fluttering and he could barely stay still.

"Keep going" she muttered "I'll be fine"

As he started moving again, Edlynn felt the pain fading slowly. It didn't became pleasurable, like it had when he had used his hand, but it became more... Tolerable. She even felt some pleasure, and it wasn't as bad as she thought, in fact, she enjoyed the way Ivar muttered some strange words in Norse she couldn't understand, and how he moaned and sighed against her skin. It was truly a sight, to see him with his eyes closed in pleasure, enjoying her body in ways she never thought anyone would.

When Ivar finished, he captured her lips with his again, drowning the sounds they both made as he finally stopped moving. His forehead rested against hers, and their hands were intertwined. None of them said anything at first, enjoying the feeling of being so close, and Ivar let himself hide his face in her neck, sighing. How was he going to let her go now?

___________________________________

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#ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #ivar smut #vikings #vikings imagine #heathen

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.18

Annulment

03/06/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 6,291

Warnings: angst, pregnancy, broken marriages, depression, abandonment, little bits of fluff, supportive Loki

A/N: After I finished the last chapter, I went right to work on this one because the mood was good and I’ve been wanting to get these chapters out since the very beginning. These are the moments that drive me to write fics. The point of contention when everything gets messy. I hope you enjoy it, thank you so much for your comments and reblogs. Since I posted this one so quickly after the one before I will be replying to the comments on this one instead of the one before. I hope you can forgive me! <3 Thanks for reblogging if you do, it seriously helps SO much. xoxo

If you were ever in question as to whether you had a fight or flight instinct when faced with stressful situations, you now know that your instinct is to freeze.

You’re immobilized by the terror that’s tearing through you. Nothing feels real at this moment when your whole world has suddenly come crashing down.

Only seconds have passed but you quickly push your meltdown as deep within you as you can.

One hand placed on your belly in an absentminded caress of the baby growing inside, you reach for the door to go in and tell Thor you’re pregnant. It doesn’t matter that Jane is pregnant too.

You’re his wife. This little one inside you is the heir to the New Asgardian throne. And yet, your mind starts to add up the time that Jane might have become pregnant and her baby would come first.

Her child would be heir, not yours. Legitimate or not. These days, that stands for nothing.

So, despite knowing that you’ll have to deal with Jane for the rest of your life as she is the mother of your husband’s first child, it’s really not all that bad.

He loves you.

Thor loves you.

While you process this sudden revelation, the conversation on the other side of the door continues not waiting for you to come to get a grip.

“Are you certain?”

“Do you doubt her?” Thor demands, sounding frustrated and stressed.

“Yes,” Loki says passionately, “I would doubt anyone that I have not seen in several months.

“What reason would she have to lie?” Thor begs, genuinely looking for an excuse that will make this untrue. “She has never wanted the responsibility of the throne. She has always spoken of having children as a distant possibility. Not an assurance. The last thing Jane would want is a baby.”

“When did you even have the opportunity to bed her? Did you secretly make her your mistress?”

“No!” Thor gasps, as if the idea of cheating on you is ridiculous. “No, I-it was the day I went to end things with her when Y/N accepted my proposal.”

“So, you slept with Jane and then came back home and bedded your new fiance on the same day?”

“I’m not proud of that fact,” Thor admits.

“Regardless, even if you did sleep with her, you need to have her examined, Thor. You cannot take her on her word, not with so much on the line.”

“Fine,” Thor agrees, “But I’m certain that she isn’t lying. She’s been tired and sluggish since she arrived, her appetite strange, and this past week she’s been sick at every meeting, unable to hold down any of her lunch.”

A deep sigh from Loki tells you he’s resigned to Thor’s judgement. Jane is pregnant.

“What will you do?” Loki asks.

The quiet tone of their voices more dire than the passionate denial Thor’s voice had been just a moment ago.

You should go in now. You’ll tell him that you don’t care that Jane is pregnant. You’ll support him and assure him that if he wants them to move into the palace or maybe one of the houses on the palace grounds, you won’t mind! In fact, it will be better so that your babies can grow together as true siblings.

“Y/N is not pregnant yet,” Thor says slowly, his voice calculating.

He’s thinking hard.

“What is your point, brother?” Loki demands, sounding defensive.

“If-” Thor breathes in deep, but when he speaks, the words tumble out sure and decided. “If I am to do right by Jane’s and my child, if I am to legitimize my heir, I’ll-”

He hesitates, your heart thrumming so fast and hard that you can hear it’s beat in your ears as your brain throbs.

“I’ll get an annulment. The basis of which will be that Y/N has been unable to provide me with an heir. I’ll get sworn statements from her doctors that our-our bodies are not compatible and since Jane is already pregnant-”

You take a step as if to run but freeze because you know you can’t do this. No. You can’t face this. Not here. Not this close to him and her and all of this stupid royal bullshit that you never asked for but got anyway.

As you fracture from the inside, you paint a calm smile on your face and while you pull it off, you can’t disguise the exhaustion that pokes through. You take several feet back from the door, giving yourself a good length of hallway to walk.

You straighten up, stand as tall as you can, and move towards the parted door, “Thor?”

There’s a rush of movement from inside as you reach the war room and you try to keep your hand from trembling as you reach down and pull the door open.

Inside, Loki stands ramrod straight, hands behind his back and his face carefully devoid of any kind of expression other than his normal neutral.

Thor turns away from his desk, forcing a smile for you until he sees your face and his own falls quickly.

You know he doesn’t think you overheard him because you’d given yourself plenty of distance so that he and Loki could stop talking before you were close enough to hear anything.

But he knows something is wrong and he moves towards you, right hand extended to take hold of your arm.

Trying not to make it obvious, you meander towards one of the tall wooden chairs by the war table and sit down before Thor can touch you.

“What is it, cherub? Are you ill?” Thor wonders, moving towards you.

Feigning interest in the small models of the outposts that the Warriors Three occupy across the planet, you get up and move away from him again as you lean down to look at the one in the United States.

“I’m-to be honest, I am feeling a little under the weather,” you nod, sighing as you give him a quick pained smile.

You clear your throat, hoping that it sounds like you’ve got a tickle.

“I’ll send for the doctor,” Thor moves towards the cord by the door but you stand up straight quickly and shake your head.

“No, Thor, don’t. I think maybe I just need some rest?” you nod, smiling at him again but it still just looks painful. “I came to ask you if it would be okay for me to go stay at my house for a little while? Maybe a week or so? Just so that I can get some proper sleep and-and maybe find out if it’s really me getting sick or I’m just stressed out about this park project?”

“I thought the park was almost done?” Loki checks.

“And it is,” you nod at him. “But we’ve had so much trouble with the import of several of the plants that I’d wanted to have in the wildflower corner of the park and the fountains are still giving us trouble so, I-I just need a few days to get away from it.”

You turn back to Thor who isn’t looking at you anymore but has his hand pressed to his mouth as he loses himself in thought.

As you watch him contemplate and weigh his options, wondering if he should seize this very convenient opportunity you’ve intentionally given him to make up his mind on what to do about Jane and her baby, you very nearly break.

Your lip quivers and in your desire to hide it, you move back towards the door and feign a quick peek out as if looking for someone.

“Thor?” you prod, getting a hold of yourself and turn to fix him with your expectant gaze. “Is that okay? Can I take a few days to just rest up?”

He snaps out of his thoughts and his face softens. You see the Thor who’d just had you perched on his lap, arm around your waist.

“Of course, cherub, if you need some time then you should take it.”

The sadness that fills you is urged on by the knowledge that before Jane’s pregnancy was revealed, Thor would have insisted he come with you.

There is no way that he would have let you go off on your own.

As he moves towards you, this time you make sure not to budge as he places his hands gently on your arms.

He cups the left side of your face, stroking your cheek with his large thumb before he makes to lean in towards you.

Instead of pulling away or making it look too obvious, you press your face in against his chest and he strokes your back as you successfully juke his kiss.

“No, don’t kiss me. I-I threw up and I haven’t brushed my teeth,” you pretend to fuss.

“You know I don’t care, cherub,” Thor nudges you back a little.

“Well, I do.”

You shake your head at him, delving deep into your soul to scrounge up whatever pieces of it you can find and give him a small pout instead.

“Alright,” Thor gives in, but he still leans down and presses his lips to your cheek and then your forehead before you’re pulling away from him to edge towards the door.

“I should go if I want to catch the next flight out,” you tell him.

“Y/N,” he calls and you stop by the door to look back at him, wishing he’d just let you go so that you can fall apart alone and away from all the eyes of the palace.

Thor clenches his hand into a tight fist, gently tapping it against the war table as you wait.

“I love you.”

You blink, give him a quick forced smile, and sigh because despite the heartache you’re drowning in, “I love you too, Thor. So much.”

As you walk away, you know that nothing will ever be the same. In a week’s time, you might not even be Queen anymore. Wouldn’t that be something?

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re given a bodyguard. Well, more like a friend who can kick serious ass. Hilde was happy to volunteer.

“Something’s up,” she observes as she escorts you into the airport gate.

Normally you’d have set up for a private plane, or Thor would have.

But he has other things on his mind.

“What do you mean?” you ask her, clearing your throat again for the fifth time since you left the palace in order to uphold the pretense of feeling sick.

“Your face is all wrong, you’re not saying something.”

“I have nothing to hide, Hilde. I’m just tired. I feel weak and beaten. I feel like I can’t catch my breath. Like I’ll crack if I’m not careful enough to hold myself together.”

All of this is true. You do feel like you’re about to crumble to pieces. Nothing you just said is a lie. You’re not hiding anything, just waiting. In a week’s time, you’ll know where you stand. And then you can tell Hilde everything.

“How long have you felt this way?” Hilde wonders, real concern painting her tone.

“Not long,” you tell her. “It just started today, actually. About two hours ago?”

“There’s something more,” she refuses to believe that you’re only sick. “It’s like you’re running from something.”

“What would I be running from, Hilde? My luxurious and comfortable life? My loving husband? My sweet and loyal people? My life is perfect. I don’t feel like I’m missing anything.

“I have a family. The only thing I’ve ever wanted. Why would I run from that? Unless of course, I’m being kicked out?”

Hilde fixes you with a look of complete confusion.

As you hand over your ticket to the man at the gate, you force a smile on your friend.

“If I were being kicked out, I’d run before they could get the chance to give me the boot. Then at least it was my choice and not someone forcing me to go away.”

“Why would anyone kick you out? It’s not possible, Your Majesty. You are Queen of New Asgard. Or did you forget?”

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to ever forget my time as Queen. I think I’ll remember it until the day I die.”

Hilde takes your arm, turning you to face her with subtle force, “Oi, what aren’t you telling me?”

You swallow hard, pushing your sorrow down until you can ignore it a little better.

“I’m-I’m not hiding anything, seriously. I’m just tired, Hilde. Being Queen is harder than I ever thought it could be and even though I love being married to Thor, the stresses of doing my job as Queen have reached a point where it’s boiling over.

“I just need a break...from everyone, Hilde. Even you.”

“What did I do?!” she demands, offended.

“Nothing. You’ve been one of the good parts of being Queen, but I just need a little break from Asgard as a whole. I spent my entire childhood and teenage years alone with no one to rely on me but me.

“I just need to be alone for a bit. One week. That’s all I want. So...I know that Thor won’t be happy about it but now that you’ve seen me onto the plane-”

“I am not leaving you alone,” Hilde frowns, almost angry at you for even asking.

“David is meeting me when the plane lands and then driving me home himself. I’ll be fine being alone for just the flight,” it’s a plea as much as it is a reassurance. “Please, Hilde. Please? Please?”

The higher your pitch gets, the more she breaks, turning sympathetic.

“Please, Hilde? Please?”

She growls and rolls her eyes, holding out your carryon bag--a large brown duffel bag stuffed with clothes--so that you can take it.

“Thor is going to be pissed at me,” she grumbles. “And it’s all your fault.”

You take your bag, hang it on your shoulder, and quickly pull her in to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, Hilde. I’ll text you as soon as I land. I promise.”

“You’d better, or I’ll come find you and stick at your side like paste.”

A stewardess comes out to peek down at you and you hurry off before Hilde can change her mind.

In no time at all, you’re in your seat, the plane up and the air, and New Asgard--Thor and his annulment of your marriage--is fading fast behind you.

When you land, no one is there to meet you.

A necessary lie. You'll have to call David in the morning and let him know what's happening. He's your lawyer and if Thor goes through with his plan, you'll need to be legally ready.

You're hit with a stab of hurt that your previously loving marriage has taken such a shift.

Still, you feel bad for lying to Hilde, but when you’d said you needed your alone time, you’d meant it.

You rent a car with your own money, ignoring the shiny black credit card that Thor had given you during your honeymoon shopping trip. The last thing you need is them tracing your movements when you just want to be left alone.

The drive home is lengthy but the peace it brings you is welcome.

Four hours of no one but yourself, the music on your radio, and endless grassy hills and small town charms streaking past your windows like long lost friends.

After an hour of driving you stop at a roadside diner. You buy a bag full of fries, smear them in lines of ketchup, grab a lemonade to go, and text Hilde that you’re with David and on your way home.

After another hour, you stop again. This time at a decently sized convenience store, newly built. It's a truck stop really and you take the chance to use the bathroom then loiter by your car as you tap the screen of your phone with your thumb, waking it up over and over again. Unable to make up your mind.

Your wallpaper taunts you. A picture of you sitting between Thor’s legs on your massive bed, his arms wrapped around you as your left hand is placed to his cheek as he kisses yours, your other arm extended as you take the picture.

It’s difficult to find the courage to unlock your phone, scroll through your contacts, and press the little phone to dial Thor.

He doesn’t pick up right away.

Sadly your marriage already feels like a past life. It feels dead. Like a good dream you’ve woken up from and you just know if you try and go back to sleep to keep it going, it’ll only turn into a nightmare.

The phone rings and rings. It goes to voicemail.

It hurts. So much more than you expected it to hurt and your tears overflow leaving salty trails along your cheeks as you hiccup and try not to sob out loud.

You lean and cry against your car for the longest two minutes of your life before your phone is ringing and vibrating in your hand.

It’s Thor, and for a second, you consider not answering. You consider disappearing. Just fading into the wilderness. Abandoning your car right here. Never making it to your little house. It's so tempting in the moment to give up your throne, which will soon be taken away from you, and start your life again.

How long would they look for you? Would they eventually assume you're dead?

Still, you know that Dr. Wilson and Dr. Alric would spill the beans and if Thor knew...

You press your free hand to your stomach and know that you can’t just vanish. This life will follow you wherever you go and as painful as it is, you’re not sorry for the baby you’ve made.

You swallow your sobbing and with all of the other things you’re not allowed to feel right now or you’ll give yourself away, bury it deep down inside.

Gliding your finger across the screen, you answer the phone and press it to your ear.

“My love,” Thor gasps, sounding stressed or tired? Labored breathing.

Your mind goes to dark places and you chase away the nasty images your mind thinks up before you can let them hurt you more.

How can he still call me that?!

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. Forgive me. I'd left my phone on my desk and I had my hands full of books.”

Your mouth won’t open. It won’t speak.

You realize all of a sudden that you don’t want to talk to Thor. You’re so angry at him. You’re hurt and betrayed and everything he’s ever told you is a lie.

“Y/N?” he sounds so confused.

“I’m here,” you manage.

“How are you feeling, cherub?”

Stop calling me that!

“I’m not great,” you sigh, sagging against the car. “I just wanted to call you to tell you that I’m with David and we’re on our way to my house. We stopped at the store to go to the bathroom, so I thought I’d call you.”

“Wait, David? Why is David with you? Where is Brunnhilde?” Thor asks, his heavy breathing still loud.

“I asked her to stay behind,” you explain. “Look, Thor I don’t really feel well enough for talking. I just didn’t want you to worry. I promised I’d call.”

“Why would she let you go alone?” Thor demands, shouting into whatever room he’s in. “Loki! Where is Brunnhilde? Get her up here!”

“I have to go, Thor. David’s waiting. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Wait. Don’t hang up yet, cherub. Do you have a doctor to see you close to home?” Thor frets, and you can’t stand it.

“I’m coming, David!” you pretend to call, the convenience store clerk currently throwing the trash looks at you then turns his head back and forth as if searching for who you might be talking to. “Bye, Thor.”

“No, wait, love. Don’t hang-”

His voice is cut off and yet his deep tone still rings in your ears as if he were standing right beside you.

Your heart cries out for him. You wish he was there with you but then your brain reminds you that your time with Thor is already over.

The clerk is still looking at you and you give him a quick shake of your head.

“Sorry,” you start. “Bad breakup.”

He nods sympathetically as you get back in your care then gives you a wave as you drive off, setting back off into the night.

You’re not driving twenty minutes before your phone dings. A text.

Then again. And again. And again. Too many texts come through and you can’t stand it.

You reach over and completely shut it off.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s midnight when you finally get up from bed.

There’s no escaping Thor even here in your own home. Your honeymoon memories are everywhere here.

The bed. The shower. The closet--Thor was eager one morning. The kitchen. The backyard. Every room has a memory. Not all of them sex, but all of them just as poignant and meaningful.

Or so you’d thought.

You wander down the hall to your kitchen, flipping the switch as you enter and make a beeline for the vintage fridge.

“Shit-” you sigh, not even opening it as you remember that there will be no food until you go shopping for some.

You take a peek, just to confirm, and all that's inside is a half empty jar of pickles on the door.

Irritated, you move towards the pantry and grab the first box of cereal you see, pop it open and plunge your hand inside.

You scoop a bit into your mouth but just as you begin to crunch, your mouth falters at the sight of Loki sitting on one of your island stools where he clearly wasn't before, a gentle smile to compliment the knowing sharpness in his eyes.

“You heard us, didn’t you?”

You try not to react to his question, because it’s not a question. Just confirmation of what he clearly already guessed.

“You’re not really here, are you?” You finish chewing, taking more cereal into your mouth after you swallow.

You’re starving. You should have bought some burgers at that diner to reheat and eat tonight and tomorrow.

“No,” Loki confirms. “I'm...checking in. Thor doesn’t know. He’s pretty oblivious, actually. Other things on his mind.”

“Like pregnant ex-girlfriends whose baby will have a stronger claim over the Asgardian throne than mine?”

There’s a bitterness in your voice but you don’t feel sorry for it. You’re not going to hide how hurt you are.

Loki’s face finally breaks as he realizes what you mean. He gives you a small startled blink before he’s got control of his expression again.

“Don’t tell him, Loki.”

“He deserves to know.”

“Does he?” you demand, voice rising in your anger. “And I don’t deserve to know about Jane being pregnant?”

“He would have told you,” Loki assures you.

“When?” You demand, eyes stinging. “When he needed my signature on the annulment papers?”

“He’s not decided on anything yet.”

“Oh, my god! As if that even fucking matters!” you get up, throwing the box of cereal into the garbage.

They’re stale.

“The point is he thinks it’s a good idea. I married him. I thought he welcomed me into his family. I thought I belonged with him, and you and Hilde and Heimdall, but I’m just some fucking guest after all, aren’t I?”

“You’re overreacting,” Loki chastises you.

You pick up a nearby mug and chuck it at him. It goes through him and breaks against the wall behind him.

“Don’t tell me that I’m overreacting when my husband is thinking about legally erasing all traces of our marriage!

"I trusted him," you reach up and jab at your own chest somewhat painfully.

"I thought what we had was worth keeping and protecting. I was already making plans to move Jane and her baby into the palace so that our kids could grow up together, as a family but he doesn’t want that.

“He doesn’t want me in his life if he’s already got another heir lined up so why should I tell him? If he doesn’t want me without this baby then he has no right wanting me with it!”

Loki lets you shout, he lets you break down. He doesn’t judge you for it either, but he reads into it. Too much, and you hate him for it.

You don't want to be reasonable. This doesn't feel like the time for reason. You're shattered.

“He loves you, Y/N. His choice is made-”

“For the child, yes. I get that. That doesn’t make it hurt any less. And maybe I shouldn’t be angry for him doing right by his baby when I’m carrying one of my own, but I am angry. It hurts to know that in moments he was able to make the choice to end our marriage.

“He’s my husband and I am his wife. Does that seriously mean nothing?”

Loki shakes his head, “I’ve already told you that he hasn’t decided anything, yet.”

“You don’t get it, and I don’t know that you can understand what even considering the option of annulment means for us as a couple.”

Loki sighs, “I want you to listen to me very clearly, Y/N. I say this with as much love as a brother can feel for his sister. You need to understand and you need to accept that you and Thor are not a normal couple. Thor is, first and foremost, a king.

“He is beholden to his people and he needs to ensure our position on this planet because we don’t have a home anymore. We are refugees and this is our home now. It is Thor’s job to protect that on behalf of all of us by any means necessary. Choices like these are the reason that my brother resisted the throne for so long.

“As a King, all of the love in the world cannot keep him from making the choices that will benefit our people, even if the choice should hurt him in the process.”

You’re shaking with tears as Loki speaks, shaking your head as you press your hand against your tummy. Your thoughts are full of the baby growing within you and the helpless feeling that presses down on you.

“That’s why this baby changes things, Y/N. You must tell him that you’re pregnant if you are going to keep him for yourself. If you want your marriage to survive this, you can’t keep this from him.”

Shaking your head, you turn away from him to fill a small glass with water and take a small drink.

Yes, you need to tell Thor that you’re pregnant. As wounded as your pride is, you can’t keep him in the dark forever.

“My Queen?” Loki urges you, calling you by your title probably to remind you that like Thor, you have obligations even if you don’t like or want them.

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll tell him, but not yet. Just give me this week, Loki. Please.”

When you turn to look at him again, he’s softer with his gaze.

“You’re going to let him suffer for his idea of the annulment,” he guesses.

“No,” you shake your head. “This isn’t for Thor. This is for me. Just because I understand the reason he thought of an annulment doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt anymore.

“If I saw him right now, I couldn’t even talk to him, Loki. He might have betrayed me for good reasons, but he’s still betrayed me. He still accepted, even for a few moments, that giving me up was the best thing he could do.

“And maybe it’s because he’s the-the first person that I’ve ever loved, and maybe I’m still looking at our very arranged marriage with some girl’s view of romance but I can’t separate his duty from my hurt and I-I don’t know that I can ever forgive him.”

"I suppose that's fair," Loki sighs. “I won’t say anything, I promise. But I’m going to make sure that he’s here on Friday. From there, it’s your duty as mother to a future prince or princess of Asgard to tell Thor about your pregnancy.”

You move to sit next to him, giving the bits and pieces of the mug you’d thrown at him a look as you settle.

“I’m sorry I threw a cup at your head.".

Loki smirks, “Would you believe me when I tell you that it’s happened before?”

You almost smile, “Yes. I believe it.”

Loki chuckles but you can't return the sentiment. For you, the world is still ending.

“Can you do me a favor, sister?” Loki asks, his term of endearment warms you a little.

Even if Thor found it easily to cast you off, you’re happy that Loki sees you so permanently a part of his family.

“Something tells me I’m not going to be happy about it, but sure.”

“Turn on your phone,” he glances at the phone sitting at the center of the island only inches away from you where you’d left it to avoid temptation. “Thor won’t shut up about how you’re not replying. If you really want to cherish some time alone, it would be better if you answered him. If he’s worried, he can get here within the hour. I don't suppose you want that."

"No," you shudder..

"Oh, and make sure you use your black card. He’ll be checking to make sure that you’re taking care of yourself.”

You roll your eyes, the rift between you and Thor already so big you can’t see a way to fix it.

“This contradiction of Thor loving me so much he’s worried to death and his ability to decide on annulling our marriage is hard to swallow. What’s he going to do when we’re not married anymore and I’m living here and he’s married to Jane?”

“That will never happen, Y/N seeing as you’re going to tell him that you’re pregnant and he won’t go through with an annulment.” Loki insists.

“What if he does?” you wonder. “Jane’s baby was conceived first. They’ll be heir to the throne. Not mine. What if Thor decides that an annulment is still the best course of action?”

“Then I think I’ll have to reconsider my pledge to serve him as my King. But he won’t go through with it, I promise you. Trust me. I know him. Thor is too soft hearted to hurt you like that.”

“He already hurt me, Loki. It’s just the finality of a follow through that I’m waiting for.”

“You’re so eager to be abandoned,” Loki observes, frustrated with you.

“It just feels like I already have been. I’m sorry if that bothers you, but I can’t help how I feel. Haven’t you ever thought you belonged somewhere only to find out that you’re not as accepted as you thought?”

Loki thinks for a moment, his silence heavy with memory, “I have.”

“And how long did it take you to get over it?”

Loki grins, meeting your eyes with a bit of resignation.

“A long time,” he admits.

“And mine just happened today. You expect me to be over it already? Get bent, Loki.”

Loki chuckles.

“You have a point. I’m sorry, I’ve been looking at this through the lens of being my brother’s advisor. I’ll try and do better.”

His promise is genuine and it makes you feel better that you have at least one person on your side.

“Thank you, Loki,” you sigh. “I know this isn’t an easy spot for you to be in, between me and Thor. I appreciate you coming to check on me.”

“It’s my pleasure. Thor might not have noticed the way you refused to touch him when you left today but I was instantly sure that you’d heard everything. Does it bother you that he slept with her and you on the same day?”

“Not as much as I thought it would,” you admit. “Even without him explicitly saying it, I knew that he’d been with her. I knew that it was likely that he’d slept with her. They were in love. Maybe him more than her, but they didn’t break up because they wanted to. They broke up because he needed to get married and Jane wasn’t ready to do that.

“If Thor had made more of an attempt to delay our wedding, maybe Jane would have come to him sooner with her news and Thor and I would never have gotten married. I wouldn’t be pregnant, and this would all be much less messy.”

“I’m glad he didn’t wait. I’d rather have you as a sister than Jane. She’s nice but you’re much better suited to be Queen.”

“Until my King pisses me off and I run off for a week,” you tease.

“This is an exceptional situation,” Loki nods. “I don’t think if anyone else were in your shoes, they would be any less hurt than you by the news of Jane’s baby. If she is pregnant.”

You look at him, interest piqued.

“You said something like that before, that Jane should get tested to make sure she’s pregnant. What makes you think she might not be?”

“Nothing in particular. She might be. I just really don’t want her to be. I like you for Thor, Y/N. As far as I’m concerned, you’re Asgardian now.”

“I wish Thor thought like you do.”

“He does think it, Y/N. He’s just thrown off balance right now. Give him a little time and tell him about your child. His child, and it will clear up his mind. His judgement is compromised by the fact that he has an heir from the woman he once loved and the woman he now loves has had no luck in conceiving one. Or so he thinks.”

“I already told you that I’ll tell him, Loki. I just want some time.” you sigh.

“I know. We’re talking in circles. I’ll go, let you get some rest.”

You turn to watch him, slowly he begins to dissolve into slow moving golden swirls mixed with a tinge of green.

“Oh, and check your fridge again. I’ve left you a present.”

Just as quickly as he’d shown up, he’s gone.

With a heavy heart you remember the favor he asked of you and turn on your phone.

Twenty texts chime in and you quickly scroll through them.

They’re all from Thor, save for two from Hilde.

Hilde: Thanks. Be careful.

Hilde: Snitch!

All of Thor’s are variations of the same message.

Thor: Please reply, cherub.

Thor: Are you asleep?

Thor: I’m sorry if I’m waking you up.

Thor: Are you home yet?

Thor: Are you safe?

It isn’t until the last few messages that his frenzy of worry seems to change. More resigned to your lack of response. Probably believing that you are actually asleep.

Thor: I miss you already, cherub. I can’t tell you how strange it is to lay in our bed without you.

Thor: I don’t think there’s been a night since we married aside from my visit to the outposts that I have not had your perfect body pressed to mine.

Thor: My heart aches without you.

Thor: My body craves in your absence.

Thor: My soul is empty. You are my very essence now, my sweet cherub.

Thor: I hope you’re not very ill. I could not stand to lose you.

You sob, reading his texts through paints a drastic contrast between his deep voice crying for annulment and the loving, doting, sweet husband who sent you these messages.

His text voice is also so different from the way he talks. You can hear the way he might have talked to you if he hadn’t spent so much time with the Avengers and other humans here on Earth. Jane probably heard him speak like this out loud when they first met.

She’d been his first contact with this planet.

Wiping at your tears, you clutch the phone to your chest for a moment before focusing your blurry eyes on the screen again to keep reading.

Thor: I’ve never known how essential you are to my life until this moment. I need you at my side. I am most certain of it now.

Thor: I would give my life for you. I will keep you close from now on. I don’t know if I can last a week without you, my love. Don’t hate me if I come to you tomorrow.

Thor: Loki has just told me that he’s come to see that you’ve settled into your home safely. I really need him to teach me that trick. He says you need rest and that you already have a doctor coming by in the morning.

Thor: Please tell me what they say once they’ve seen you.

Thor: Loki keeps yelling at me to let you sleep.

Thor: Goodnight, cherub. I love you. More than my life.

Thor: Please text me in the morning.

Thor: It’s Loki. I’ve taken his phone. I’ll make sure he leaves you alone for the full week. Thank you for turning your phone on.

Y/N: I’m fine, Thor. Just very tired.

And because it’s true and if you don’t say it, he’ll get suspicious:

Y/N: I love you, too.

You sniffle and lock your phone.

“Jerk,” you grieve, and move to the fridge.

Opening it again, you’re surprised to find it fully stocked this time with all of your favorite foods and treats.

Loki is seriously the best brother-in-law in the universe.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #royal au #arranged marriage au #a wife for thor #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x you #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #a wife for thor pt18 #loki #loki laufeyson

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wildlyglittering · 3 years ago

Text

The Perils of Being Mr. Nesta Archeron

It’s important you understand this is my incredibly poor attempt at comedy and I just wanted to write some nonsense.

This popped into my brain after seeing all the posts about how awesome Nesta is and how she had a ridiculous amount of marriage proposals and interest from human men, fae males and demons alike.

I just kind of took it from there...

***

“I still like what Nesta’s done to the place.”

Feyre looked around the grand drawing room of the House of Wind, her dozing son on her lap and her bored mate at her side who murmured something which could be taken as an agreement while pulling off imaginary pieces of lint from his sleeve.

The House was now Nesta’s, in as much as anything sentient could truly belong to anyone, and as such was rarely used for official Night Court business. Its predominant function was as home to Nesta, Cassian and a reluctant Azriel, who’d been gifted the responsibility of ‘supervisor’ – a gift which Feyre suspected he’d like to return.

The Inner Circle still held Starfall at the House and, like now, the High Lord and High Lady of Night, would visit. When she visited alone, Feyre visited in the capacity of sister and friend but when with Rhys, it was all work.

Nesta and Cassian had embraced their titles as the Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death and their combined reputations proceeded them sending them into every corner of Prythian and the many dark outer reaches was a tactic Rhys now employed.

The aim was to achieve negotiations and encourage peaceful surrenders where necessary but if there was resulting collateral damage, it was of little consequence to Rhys.

The other reason that the House was seldom used for official Night Court business was the unnerving issue of the House itself. Whilst the majority of the architecture remained unchanged there was the occasional surprise addition. Or subtraction.

Amren discovered the House’s penchant for the latter when, on one uninvited call, she opened a door which should have led to private chambers only to find herself plummeting through the air onto the ground. She swore blind the House foundations quivered like it was laughing.

Feyre wondered how independently the House acted from Nesta and how much it carried out her wishes. She suspected that this room, the grand drawing room, had been one of Nesta’s heart fulfilments or, at least, something for Cassian.

The room was sizable, entered from the hallway via a series of doorway arches wide enough for splayed Illyrian wings. Oversized plush furniture filled the room and the floors were strewn with thick sable rugs.

The most spectacular draw to the room was the window which stretched from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall on the side opposite the doorways. The view, one across Velaris’ golden rooftops and shining turquoise waters of the Sidra, filled the space like a painting.

Feyre sighed, at least this current visit was expected and so they weren’t risking the windows opening of their own accord to fling them out. The occupants of the House had been gone for longer than anticipated on this task and so Rhys sent ahead a message that he wanted a full debrief when they returned.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she heard the thud of boots and flutter of wings.

“Finally,” Rhys said with a glance towards Nyx whose eyes flickered open.

“He’ll be happy see Aunt Nesta,” Feyre said in a sing-song voice to her now awake baby, turning him so he could view the entrance. “He loves Aunt Nesta.” She wasn’t above using her infant son as a tactic to avoid her eldest sister’s potential irritation at the intrusion into her home.

Rhys eyed up the shaking walls, “Yes, as does the House.”

Nesta entered first and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that the floor remained solid underneath where she sat.

“Hello,” Nesta said, her voice soft and cooing. Her welcome wasn’t to her sister or brother-in-law but to the now beaming baby in Feyre’s lap whose legs and arms flailed in the air as he wriggled.

Nesta stepped further into the room, treading over the rugs, arms outstretched, “Come to Aunty Nesta.”

The vast windows let in the bright sunlight, sunlight which illuminated the state of the Illyrian leathers Nesta had clad herself in.

Feyre shrieked, twisting in the chair and blocked Nyx from Nesta’s grasp, pointing at her sister’s waist. “What is that?””

Nesta paused and frowned, looking down.

Aside from the interesting splotches of red across the leathers, the utility belt tightened around Nesta’s waist contained the usual items Feyre expected; knife, pouch, knife, another knife and then... another item she hadn’t.

A leather strap was wound in multiple knots around the thick band and tied to an uneven, lumpy dome the other end. The lumpy dome ended in a stump clotted with congealed blood.

“Oh,” Nesta said with a shrug, “I forgot.” She untied the leather strap and pulled the lump away. “Just another one for the collection.” With a graceful arm movement, Nesta threw what Feyre realised was a decapitated head onto the floor where it landed with a thud, a dribble of blood oozing fresh from the neck wound.

“Well, you can’t hold the baby until you’ve washed your hands. Thoroughly.”

Nesta frowned at her, an ice-cold glare fixed on her face. “Fine,” she snapped, as though Feyre’s request was unreasonable.

Cassian, unlike her sister, had taken some time to remove his blood encrusted leathers before greeting his guests, and he wandered in through the arch with a nod of his head towards Feyre and Rhys.

His hazel eyes noted the bloodied head by the door and he released a sigh.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“The House doesn’t mind.”

The shutters covering the windows in the other rooms started to clatter up and down.

“See?”

“Yes, but I mind and besides,” he gestured across to Feyre, “an infant is present.”

Nyx, now bouncing on Feyre’s lap, slapped his hands together as hard as he could in time with the House. He gazed at Nesta as though she’d sliced her way through necks especially for him.

“He doesn’t care,” Nesta said in a sing-song voice eerily similar to the tone Feyre herself used earlier. She beamed at her nephew, “He’s clapping with the House.”

Rhys’ face turned white, “The House is applauding you?”

“Oh yes,” Az said, arriving at last and pushing his way through where Cassian and Nesta stood to flop down onto the armchair next to Feyre. “Nesta always gets rapturous applause when she brings home a kill.”

Feyre glanced from Azriel, legs sloping over one armrest while his head flopped across the other, to Nesta and then onto Cassian who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I am ecstatic to see you all,” he said, “I’ll leave Az to deal with the debrief. I need to go lie down for a while.”

Cassian exited as swift as he entered, Az not bothering to open his now closed eyes. The concerned glances of the other room occupants followed Cassian’s retreating back.

Nesta turned back to Feyre, the ice-cold glare melted away. “Excuse me while I disappear.” Then, in a heartbeat, her expression was one of joy, “Bye-bye baby, I’ll see you in a little bit for snuggles.”

Nyx let out a small sob as Nesta left and Feyre quickly turned him towards her, readying him for a feed, knowing that the small sob would turn into a loud shriek.

“Well,” she said, “she obviously prefers Nyx to me.”

“Feyre, darling – you got spoken to,” Rhys said. “I think it’s safe to say Nesta didn’t acknowledge my existence. Which I’m fine with,” he added, nervously eyeing up the House’s stone walls, “whatever makes her happy.”

Nyx, thankfully, latched onto Feyre’s bared breast and for a moment no noise sounded in the room other than his greedy milk-hungry gulps.

A thought played over and over in her mind though; Nesta’s look of concern, Cassian’s uncharacteristic broodiness. “Are they ok?” she asked Az, at the same time Rhys enquired as to how the recent mission went.

Az’s eyes fluttered open and he gestured to the head on the floor. “As you can tell – we won.” Then, his voice gentler, he turned to Feyre, “They’re fine.”

“Is Cassian upset at the violence? At Nesta doing the um...,” and using her free hand Feyre motioned across her throat with a finger.

Az laughed, such a rare sound it reminded Feyre of the bells on Solstice evening. “Not at all. He likes that she does those things it’s just-”

He paused.

Rhys, satisfied that the mission went well and not caring about anyone’s romantic woes, settled back into the loveseat while Feyre leaned forward, careful to not disrupt her feeding son.

Azriel nodded towards the head, “Before the Anguis went the way of Hybern and the Kelpie, he managed to propose.”

“Not another one!”

“Don’t worry,” Azriel said, “I’m sure Nesta is reassuring Cassian of her love as we speak.”

As though cued up with expert timing, or, as Feyre suspected, the House lifting a self-imposed sound barrier to prove a point, the thumping drifted down to the grand room from several floors up.

“That was...fast.”

Suddenly Azriel appeared just as exhausted as Cassian had. “Nesta reassures Cassian of her love at least twice a night anyway, and when she’s done reassuring him, he feels the need to thank her back.”

Feyre winced, her face contorting into one of displeasure while Rhys didn’t try to hide his smirk. “This is what – the fourth proposal? Fifth?”

Az closed his eyes and dropped his head backwards once more. “Ninth. This isn’t the worst we’ve had.”

Nyx snuffled and Feyre moved him to her other breast. “Wasn’t the first in the Winter Court?”

They’d been in Winter for the naming ritual of Kallias and Viviane’s baby and once the ceremony was done, all guests mingled in the palace hall. The High Lord and Lady of Winter stood on the dais, draped in silver and grey, Viv beaming as she held her pink cheeked daughter.

The music, food and wine flowed freely but Feyre could barely hear the former over the laughter of the high fae and the chime of glasses as toast after toast was declared. The Inner Circle members had dispersed throughout the crowds earlier, all intent on seeking their delight in various forms.

Feyre had seen Nesta on the dance floor for the opening songs but she’d long since gone and Feyre wondered if Nesta and Cassian had snuck away to take advantage of the Winter palace’s numerous private bedrooms.

She had done her duty as High Lady of Night, walking around the hall, ice blue gown sashaying around her legs as revellers congratulated her on the arrival of her own child.

Feyre had smiled and thanked them but she tired easily after Nyx’s traumatic birth and it wasn’t long before she sought out the fur-decked chaise longue tucked in one of enclaves on the far wall.

As Feyre made her way towards it, movement from the corner on her right drew her attention.

Nesta was standing by another enclave, glass in hand, virulently shaking her head. Nesta’s golden-brown hair had been braided into a complex knot adorned with diamonds which caught the fae lights and casted shapes on the ceiling. It had been this that captured Feyre’s eye.

“No,” Nesta said, “I don’t think so.” She smoothed down a non-existent crease on her dress, a pale grey-blue that shimmered like mist over ice, ever changing.

The male she was speaking to was some high-ranking courtier from Winter who Feyre had been introduced to earlier that evening but whose name escaped her. He was tall and handsome enough, gazing at her sister with sapphire blue eyes, but Nesta’s demeanour suggested nothing other than sheer boredom.

Cassian emerged from the crowds, seemingly drawn to what was happening in the corner of the room like a moth towards a flame, his body screaming nothing but fury. Still, he interjected himself between Nesta and the Winter male with a decorum Feyre felt he should be proud of. His fists were clenched and his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth but there was no violence. Yet.

Feyre moved quickly to them.

Side by side there was no contest that Cassian was the larger, broader and less refined male. He wore scuffed Illyrian leathers and the most he’d done for the event was clean his hair and tie it back.

The courtier wore ivory silk brocade strewn with pearls and viewed Cassian up and down with a sneer.

“And who, exactly, are you?”

Cassian spat out his answer, “Her mate and husband and your executioner – you are?”

“Ah yes,” Rhys said. “The naming ball. Was it just the one dance Nesta performed before she had the males panting over her?”

“Still,” Feyre said, “that one was the easiest to smooth over. No one was killed. Or maimed.”

“I think the proposal with Chrysos was when Cassian was aware this was going to be a repeat issue,” Az said.

Chrysos stood before them, undulating between the visage of a male and of something else, something other – possibly human but not quite. His skin was translucent and his gold blood ran through his veins, clear to their eyes, like streaks in white marble.

He was horrifying and beautiful and Feyre struggled to tear her eyes away.

“I must marry you,” he said, directing his words to Nesta. Chrysos’ voice echoed around the cave chamber, strangely melodic, a harmony of angels singing in chorus, one voice on top of another. “I shall make you my Queen and take you into the darkness where we shall make the sweetest music and-”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged, energy sapped from her as she gave a frustrated sigh.

“What the fuck?!”

Feyre jumped at Cassian’s yell, the noise bouncing from the tops of the cave to the bottom, deep into the darkest part and back again.

“Seriously! For fucks sake, I am standing right here!”

Rhys chuckled. “That ended quick enough if I remember?”

“We were on a recruitment mission though, we wanted him on our side,” Az said, “not dead.”

“Cassian maintains he slipped.”

“From six feet away?”

“Yes.”

“With his sword aloft?”

“I didn’t think the proposal in Summer was too bad,” interrupted Feyre, now with Nyx resting against her shoulder so she could pat his back with soothing circles.

The party on Tarquin’s barge was held at the height of the season the Court was most famous for.

The weather was idyllic; sunshine beating down on Feyre’s skin, endless blue skies stretching ahead while a cool ocean breeze drifted from the teal waters teaming with coral. Dolphins pranced in the frothy waves around them, shimmering and shining, their scales a rosy pink.

“Look, Nyx, look!” Feyre held her cooing baby high, pointing the dolphins out to his curious violet eyes.

The barge moved at a comfortable pace and again, like all parties the High Lords arranged, the music, food and wine flowed. Guests streamed from the top desk to the lower one and lower still when they felt like taking to the private cabins, the heat in the air turning into heat in the blood.

The decks were vast enough to not see the same individuals constantly but small enough to see them often and Feyre had smiled every time she walked past a relaxed Cassian and Nesta.

On their first stroll about the deck, Nyx had been awake and grinning, Nesta peppering his small face with a flood of kisses that had him squealing and his limbs flailing with joy. Cassian had joked about knowing his place in the pecking order and Nesta smiled at him in turn.

Cassian’s hair was tied back into a loose bun, strands of black hair falling past his jaw. It was too hot for leathers and, with his white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the black tattoos on his arms, he was the most casual Feyre had ever seen him.

Nesta stunned in a dress of blue which started ice blue at her shoulders before blending into a shade so dark at the hem it was almost black. The front was a demure and delicately scalloped neckline but Nesta’s back was entirely bare, held up by invisible straps.

Multiple pairs of eyes glanced their way but Nesta’s hand never left Cassian’s and his free one travelled the length of her spine dipping beyond the fabric at her lower back.

You’re borderline indecent, Feyre told them with pretend outrage and continued to walk the deck.

The second time Feyre passed them, they had been talking to Tarquin and Feyre only caught a brief snippet of their conversation, trying to settle a now restless Nyx against her shoulder.

“One apology,” Tarquin had said, “that was my mother’s favourite building.”

On Feyre’s third pass, Nyx now in Rhys’ arms, Tarquin had gone. In his place stood a fae Feyre didn’t recognise.

“I had turned away for a couple of seconds,” Cassian said, his hands in fists, “and you thought this was your opportunity to sneak in here like a panting-”

“Cassian,” Nesta warned, “we don’t want another incident in this Court.”

“Well, there will be one if this prick doesn’t move out of here. We’ll see how he fares with my foot up his as-”

“Cassian!”

“She’s married and mated. Can’t you see the matching rings? Can’t you smell the mate bond?”

The high fae nodded his head, “Yes, but...”

“But? But what?! That’s it,” Cassian said, “we’re leaving this fucking party.”

Rhys and Az stared at Feyre as she burped Nyx, their mouths open.

“What?” she asked.

“You didn’t think it was too bad?” Rhys said, his voice incredulous.

Feyre shrugged, “No one died and no wars were started.”

“They’d only just removed the ban on Cassian to have to enforce it again.”

“I don’t think the second ban was fair though.”

“Feyre, darling. He destroyed the barge.”

“We spent hours fishing everyone out of the sea,” Az said. “Then we had to work out where Nesta’s unfortunate suitor had landed after Cassian threw him towards the cliff.”

“Wasn’t he clinging onto the side of the rockface?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t Cassian destroy another building in his haste to get away?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Feyre said, frowning. “So maybe it was bad.”

“I quite liked the proposal from Locuples,” Az said, “that was the best for all involved. No one died and we ended up with a pretty good trade agreement.”

“Oh, I remember that,” said Feyre, “I was here when Nesta and Cassian came back.”

Feyre and Az had been in the grand room, as they were now, sitting opposite each other in companiable silence. Steam from their tea cups swirled in the air and Feyre gazed out the windows at the white clouds over the city.

“What the-?”

Feyre’s head snapped round, surprised at the uncharacteristic shock in Az’s voice. He stared towards the door archways and Feyre followed his eyeline.

Cassian and Nesta had returned, surprisingly quietly, as she hadn’t heard them land on the roof. Or perhaps, looking at the display in front of her, they’d travelled by some other means.

Nesta sat on a throne on an open topped litter, carried by two lithe creatures who were more shadow and smoke than real and whose feet never touched the ground. Nesta herself, bedecked with jewels, a tiara and clutching a sceptre, wore an expression of confusion.

Cassian followed on foot, wings tersely tucked in, heaving a trunk filled with gold, jewellery, silks, furs and bottles which wafted exotic scents.

Cassian glanced at them from the corner of his eye, “Don’t ask.”

“I thought we expected this to be a hostile negotiation?”

“I said don’t ask.”

“We still receive gifts on a monthly basis,” Feyre said and slid to the floor to lay a barely awake Nyx on the soft furs - one of those aforementioned gifts. She traced a thumb on the arch of his foot and watched it curl, his lips smacking in contentment.

Feyre swore the floorboards underneath him adjusted to accommodate his shape.

“Don’t you receive monthly gifts from Helion as well?” Rhys asked. “Or did Cassian put a stop to that?”

“Cassian put a stop to that one,” Az said.

“Doesn’t Nesta still have the first gift though?”

Az groaned and placed his scarred hands over his eyes. “Yes, and I cannot express how much upkeep it takes.”

Feyre smiled, “Oh, I remember that one too.”

The shriek took Feyre by surprise and she leapt from her chair, readying herself for action. It was only seconds before she realised it wasn’t a shriek of pain but one of sheer, childlike joy.

Once again, her and Az were in the House and, once again, she hadn’t heard the arrival of the House’s other permanent occupants.

“In the name of the Mother,” Az breathed and, in what was a familiar pattern, Feyre turned to where he was looking. This time, instead of Az looking towards the doorway, he was staring outwards at the windows.

Nesta, clad in her leathers and with windswept hair was sat astride a glorious white winged horse, her black leather a stark contrast to the white of the creature she sat upon.

“Someone find Gwen and Emerie! They need to know about this; they need to come here!”

With another shriek of joy and a gentle nudge to the horse’s sides Nesta rose higher, the wings of the horse flapping with enthusiasm, happy to appease its new owner.

There was a sigh from behind them and Feyre and Az turned. Cassian leant against the doorframe, fingers rubbing his temples.

“Cass... isn’t that Helion’s last and most prized flying horse?”

“Please – do not ask.”

“That thing is a nightmare,” Az said, “it eats everything, likes very few fae and can somehow find its way into the House in the dead of night. Do you know how terrifying it is to wake to find a winged horse hovering over you demanding sugar cubes while stealing your blanket? I can’t live like this.”

Feyre shot him a sympathetic smile while Rhys laughed. In the brief silence which followed, Feyre could hear the rhythmic banging echoing its way through the house.

“Aren’t they done yet?”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“At least it will be over soon.”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“You think this is bad?” Az said, “You weren’t here after the proposal with the Peregryn.”

To Feyre, the Dawn Court was one of the most beautiful. Its shades of gold and red weren’t bright or ostentatious but were the softer golds found in the rising sun, the reds not vermillion or scarlet but something akin to a dusky rose.

Every town held a thousand clock-towers, every hand matching perfectly, the chimes on the hour synching in a glorious song, calling to the skies in praise of a new day, of promises to be made, of joy to come.

The peace of that particular morning had been broken by the shouts of males, all raised in the ecstatic spirit of competition. Nothing violent or aggressive but it spoke to Feyre of knuckles and bone crunching all the same.

She’d pushed her way to the front of a crowd, the fae recognising her and making room for her to pass. A fighting circle had broken out in a section of the town square, cheers raising into the air as one of the fighters scored a blow.

In the circle stood two males, both tall and broad, barefooted and bare-chested. One had wings similar to the Pegasus which Nesta now owned, white and gold-feathered, and the other had wings as black as night, the rising sun highlighting veins and patches of amber.

A female was eagerly watching them, a female Feyre shoved past fae to move next to.

“Nesta! Why is Cassian sparring with a Peregryn?”

Nesta didn’t tear her eyes from the males. “Some old nonsense about fighting for the right to take my hand.”

Cassian landed a punch to his opponent’s jaw, the crack reverberating through the air as the crowd cheered on.

Sweat trickled down Cassian’s own jaw and onto his neck. His muscles were strained, his abdomen contracting. As the fighters turned positions, his back faced Feyre, black tattoos against dark skin, his shoulder blades gleaming with oil.

Feyre glanced at Nesta who was dressed in a pale peach dress adorned with pearls, her hair up but with soft stands framing her face. She would have looked a wholesome picture of innocence if not for her darkening eyes.

“Shouldn’t you stop this?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered from the top of Cassian’s head down his back and then, as the fighter’s moved again, to his stomach where they lingered on the trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers. She sighed.

“A few more minutes.”

Feyre blinked as if she could rid herself of the memory. “I can only imagine.”

“If I didn’t visit the river house for dinner I would have starved. The House had to perform a deep clean.”

The walls shook in what was akin to a shudder.

“The bard was wholesome enough,” Rhys said.

Az groaned, “And yet ridiculous.”

In a concerted effort to apologise to the Courts on behalf of the behaviour of some Inner Circle members during previous gatherings, Feyre and Rhys had invited the High Lords and their significant others to Starfall.

The House remained still, either curious as to who all the guests were or silently sulking that there were guests at all.

The tang of a rich red wine was on Feyre’s tongue, not from anything she had drunk, but from a stolen kiss from Rhys, under the night sky, in a moment solely theirs before it became everyone else’s.

The night was filled with laughter and talking and Feyre slid into the embrace of her mate, content in the knowledge that Nyx slumbered underneath the watchful eye of the House’s nursery, a room which hadn’t existed before this very evening.

Her heart hurt, but in a good way, as though each chamber was bursting with a joy they couldn’t contain and her happiness spilled out into every corner of the rooftop.

Azriel was intently speaking with Nesta’s red-haired friend while Elain watched on from a distance, either not aware of, or ignoring, her own red-haired watcher.

Amren and Mor stood amongst another group, Mor’s golden hair cascading down her back like a waterfall and near the balcony was Cassian and Nesta, pressed side by side, hand in hand as they gazed upwards, Cassian pointing to a constellation.

Nesta glanced at him as he spoke, her face softening in a way Feyre never thought possible, a smile on her lips. When Cassian looked back at her, to check her understanding of what he was saying, he brought their intertwined hands up to his mouth, to kiss her fingertips.

Feyre smiled, all was well and all would continue to be well. That was until a voice, clear and resolute, spoke out into the crowd.

“My High Lords and Ladies and Paramor’s, I am a bard from the Spring Court – famed as the best in all the Courts!”

Chatter drifted into murmurs as heads turned expectedly to the fae now standing in the centre. Feyre noted his lute fixed upon his waistband but the bard made no attempt to reach for it.

“I have travelled across the land, coming to the Court of the High Lord and High Lady of Night with one purpose and one purpose only – to serenade with tales of fortune and love!”

A ripple of anticipation broke out amongst the crowd to hear such songs and Feyre turned to Rhys. “Did you arrange this?” but his face was twisted in confusion.

“I dedicate my melodies to one female, one who understands music as though her very bones were formed by the notes. My song to you, Lady Nesta and also my hand in marri-”

“FUCKS SAKE!”

Feyre let out a sigh. “I felt so sorry for the bard. He must have seen Nesta on one of her visits. To think, he spent all those weeks travelling on foot to arrive to the House and then Cassian threatens to dangle him from the roof.”

“Cassian did dangle him from the roof.”

“No one’s going to invite us to any more parties,” said Rhys with a sorrowful sigh.

“I think we can handle an overly amorous high fae or two,” Az said, “it’s the demons which worry me.”

“They’re no cause for concern,” Rhys said with a wave of his hand. “In fact, we have a valuable asset on our side. Drag Nesta in front of them and it tends to shut them up.”

Feyre frowned. “That is my sister you’re deciding to use as romantic bait. Besides, the issue we had with the Caligo demon was that it didn’t stop talking. There was such a mess.”

Screams filled Feyre’s ears as terrified Night Court citizens ran past her, almost a blur.

Tears streaked down terror-stricken faces as they grabbed the arms of their loved ones and scooped up children too small or young to so anything other than shiver and cry.

Cracks appeared in the ground beneath their feet, the cobbles of the street twisting and turning before jutting upwards like the jagged, sharpened edges of broken bone. The air was thick with acrid smoke which stung Feyre’s eyes causing them to stream with the tears she saw running down her people’s faces.

Rhys was to her right. Or that’s what she hoped. He had been standing but he’d gasped in pain and then she no longer saw him through the gaps in the cloud. When she managed to glimpse him, he was on his knees, thick red blood pouring down his face from a cut on his scalp.

Feyre choked back a sob and clambered over the rips in the earth to reach him.

Steel clashed with steel in the darkness, the shouts of Cassian and Azriel tearing through the blackness as they pressed forward. A shimmer of magic absorbed as much of the darkness away as it could and created a halo around the members of the Inner Circle.

Hands, strong and steady, circled Feyre’s waist and Nesta held her up, helped her over the torn earth.

“I am destroyer,” the thing hissed. “I am consumer, I am flesh ripper and soul tearer and I-”

It turned, watching them all, gloating in their misery and gorging itself fat on their pain. One of its bulbous eyes slid to where they stood, Feyre leaning into Nesta’s side. Her sister’s hair was dishevelled, her arms smeared with blood but Nesta’s eyes remained cold and hard upon the demon.

“And I – oh, oh, you are spectacular.”

A roar ripped through the darkness; a bellowing from powerful lungs as the words of the creature reached the ears of all present.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

Cassian advanced from the void, red siphons blazing as though he were shrouded in flame. “I am her mate; I am her husband and I suggest you put those sloping tongues back into your mouth or Mother help me...”

Feyre swallowed the rising bile. She tried not to think about the events of that night, though she didn’t know what was worse – that night or now, with the thumping above their heads gaining momentum.

“He got the job done,” Rhys said and then smirked, “and he’s doing the same now from the sounds of it.”

“Rhys!” Feyre admonished and placed her hand on Nyx’s stomach to calm herself. “Why do you think he puts up with it?” she asked Az.

“What choice does he have? Besides, he loves and trusts her. There’s no one for him but her and no one for her but him.”

“Disgusting,” Rhys said with slight mockery to his tone.

“No,” Feyre said, “what’s disgusting is the head in the corner.” She eyed up the lump that had once been somethings head; the glassy eyes, the bloodied stump. She wouldn’t relish touching the thing but she would happily remove herself out of earshot of Nesta and Cassian’s post proposal love affirmation. “Where do I take it?”

“The House created a trophy room three doors down,” Az said.

Anguis’ mouth hung open, razor sharp rotted teeth all lined up on display. Feyre felt a slither of pity. “I’ll take it there.”

“No, Feyre darling, I’ll do it.”

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief and nodded before turning to Az. “Shall we wait for them to be done? We need to discuss the next mission which is rather sensitive.”

Az shook his head, “No, you may as well go home. It was a proposal so they’re not stopping until – what day is it now, Thursday? – they’re not going to be fit for purpose until Monday.”

Rhys, still lounging, stretched out into the space Feyre previously occupied. “We can’t wait that long.”

“Do you want to volunteer to interrupt them?

“No.”

Feyre glanced between them both. “Cassian did look rather sad.”

Azriel laughed again, the sound echoing throughout the room, his head thrown back. “Don’t pity Cassian, he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Nesta falls for it?”

“No, she definitely doesn’t fall for it.”

“But isn’t she in their chambers um...reassuring him?”

“Yes.”

Feyre bit her lip, “So surely...”

“Oh Mother,” Az rubbed his hand across his face. “It’s their form of twisted foreplay. When Nesta received a proposal from – well, I can’t remember which one, I came home early and almost went blind. Have none of you questioned the indoor swing?”

Feyre’s voice was quiet when she spoke, scooping up her son into her arms with haste. “I thought they were creating an inside playground.”

“Ah,” Az said, his voice soft, “not quite.”

The thumping reached its crescendo and blessedly, stilled.

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Rhys said, “they’re done after all. Az, go retrieve them. We need to discuss the next mission.”

“Why me?”

“You live here.”

“You’re the High Lord.”

Feyre looked around her, Nyx clutched in her arms. “I think the floor is sloping us out towards the door.”

“I don’t think so Feyre, darling.”

“No really, the head - which you said you’d deal with by the way - is rolling away.”

Feyre wasn’t imagining what was happening, she’d passed under the entrance to the room, Rhys and Az’s chairs beginning to follow.

“This happens,” Az said with a calmness Feyre didn’t feel. “Usually when they don’t want anyone to overhear the next part of their ‘Nesta got proposed to again’ sex marathon.”

“Why? What could they now be planning that’s so much worse?”

“I don’t know,” Az replied, “the House always shuffles me out at this point. One time I was trying to prep my knives and almost stabbed myself in the eye.”

“Right,” said Rhys, “I think we can walk out of here without a sentient lump of stone forcing us to. Which,” he said with an eye to the steepness of the floor angle, “is completely within its’ right.”

Feyre nestled a snoring Nyx into one arm as Rhys helped her up. Az was already on his feet, out the door and into the hallway before he got flattened by an oversized, burgundy armchair.

He turned to them both.

“So, where’s the next mission to anyway? Where are you sending our glorious Lady Death and Lord of Bloodshed and can I sit it out?”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged glances. “I think we might need you in attendance,” Feyre said.

Az raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know King Lascivus is causing some problems with his tithe but as long as you weren’t planning on sending us to his palace, it will be fine. He’s famous for his side hobby of trying to find a muse to depict as the Mother in his artworks. Borderline obsessed.”

Feyre cleared her throat, “Sounds like he’s fervently religiously devout.”

“Hardly. The issue isn’t him trying to depict the Mother but that he’s spent centuries convincing everyone that she needs to be represented in her naked glory and I quote ‘with the petals of her flower fully opened.’”

Rhys coughed and moved fast down the hallway towards the roof entrance his wings already forming.

“Rhys!” Feyre called out. “You know I can’t run when I’m holding the baby!”

Az’s voice was quiet. “Feyre?”

“You know we love you,” she said, not meeting his hazel eyes, “and you’re always welcome at the river house. For as long as you want, whether that’s weeks or months.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I swear on the Cauldron, if you need to you can stay for centuries.”

“Feyre?”

She turned and didn’t look back, picking up her own speed to follow Rhys, ignoring the quiver in Az’s tone.

“We love you Az,” she shouted over her shoulder, propping Nyx into a position ready for flight as the House opened its doors to hasten her exit. “Always remember that.”

TAGGING

@live-the-fangirl-life

@champanheandluxxury

@dontgetsalmonella

@purpleglitterypinecone

#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian fan fic #the perils of being mr nesta archeron

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blazingparker · 3 years ago

Note

tony finds out that peter wants to propose. marriage = very scary thing for tony. tony panics. peter mishears and thinks the issue is that tony doesn’t want to marry HIM. [misunderstandings + breaking up then making up + angst w/ a happy ending].

thanks sooo much for this prompt, anon!!!! i changed it a little so they didn’t break up but they do have a big fight and make up. It’s also a little shorter than i wanted since i can’t really type still due to my wrist injury but i didn’t want to make you wait any longer. i really hope you enjoy this!

read it on ao3!

---

But Your Fears Get in the Way

Peter was going to propose.

Holy shit, Peter was going to propose.

It wasn’t like Tony had meant to overhear, okay? It wasn’t his fault Peter had assumed Tony was in the lab, not in the living room when he got back from patrol.

“Yeah, Ned, I got the ring. No, I don’t know when yet. I’ll let you know. I just-I want it to be perfect, you know?”

Tony had reacted wonderfully, if you must know. He most certainly did not pretend to be asleep on the couch so Peter wouldn’t know he’d overheard, and he definitely did not avoid his boyfriend as much as possible in the following days. It was a shitty move, and Tony knew it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t marriage material. What he and Peter had - it worked. If they changed it, if they got engaged, Tony would ruin it. He knew that, and he needed Peter to know that before he lost the best relationship he’d ever had because of his own inability to stop fucking up.

It was just a question of how to bring it up to Peter without breaking his heart and ruining everything anyway. Which was why he’d asked Rhodey to come over and help him out. Tony wasn’t the greatest with words and knew he needed to practice with someone before going out and essentially tell his boyfriend ‘Hey, I overheard you the other day. Sweet gesture, but I’m not marriage material.’

“Tony.”

Tony looked up from the Iron Man gauntlet he was in the middle of repairing to find his best friend standing in the middle of the lab, looking very irritated.

“Hey honey bear,” Tony snarked, sitting back in his chair and setting his tools down.

“You do realize you asked me to come over here, right?” “Course I do.”

“Well, then maybe next time you could put down your toys the first time I call your name instead of the fifth.” Rhodey gave Tony a little smirk and crossed the room, sitting down in a chair across from Tony. The genius ran a hand over his face, looking genuinely apologetic - a rare occurrence for him.

“Sorry, Rhodey. I just-this has got me really shaken up,” he admitted. Rhodey tried not to let his shock show, knowing Tony would shut down and shut him out if he looked like he might be mocking him or not taking him seriously.

“You said Peter wants to propose?” He asked, Tony nodding to confirm the information he’d shared over the phone. Rhodey whistled lowly and blew out a breath, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s big stuff, man.”

“I know it’s big stuff!” Tony almost yelled, reining it back in at the unimpressed look the other man shot in his direction. “I just-I can’t let him. I can’t let him propose. But if I stop him beforehand, I’ll break his fucking heart and he’ll know I overheard him the other night. If I say no, that’d be even worse. If I say yes, I’m just prolonging the inevitable break-up.”

“Why would it be an inevitable break-up? Peter loves you. You’ve been together for four years, Tony. That’s plenty of time for someone to decide their relationship is or isn’t going to work and then act accordingly. Clearly he loves you a whole lot if he’s bought the ring and everything like you said.” Rhodey tried to keep any judgment out of his tone, wanting to understand and not aggravate his friend.

“Because that’s what I do!” Tony exclaimed, standing up so fast his chair rolled backwards across the lab floor. “I ruin relationships. It’s honestly a fucking miracle this has lasted this long, you saw how Pepper and I were before.” Rhodey didn’t disagree - Tony and Pepper had been a hot mess. “I ruin relationships, but I haven’t yet with Peter! So everything needs to just-just stay the same so that I can continue to not fuck it up. For once in my life.”

There was silence after that, Tony’s chest heaving as he breathed in heavily and tried to calm himself down. Rhodey stood from his chair as well, crossing the room to his best friend and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Tony almost seemed on the verge of tears, something he’d only seen a handful of times before.

“I don’t think you could ruin what you and Peter have,” Rhodey said, holding up a hand when Tony immediately opened his mouth to argue. “But if you’re that worried about it, tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Tony asked, and Rhodey took a second to think about how to phrase his next words. He thought Tony’s fears about ruining his and Peter’s relationships were uncalled for, but they didn’t come from nowhere. There was real fear there that needed to be addressed. Both men were so deeply engrossed in their own thoughts and their conversation that neither noticed the lab door easing open slightly and a head full of fluffy brown curls peeking in.

“Tell him you can’t,” Rhodey eventually suggested. “Just-tell him everything you told me. Talk it out with him. Tell him you’re not ready for marriage yet but that you still love him.”

“I’m not ever going to be ready.”

“Then tell him that, Tony. Tell him you can’t marry him. But tell him, not me.”

The two men jumped at the sound of the lab door slamming shut and swift footsteps running down the hall.

“Who was that?” Tony asked, thoroughly confused.

“It seems Mr. Parker is leaving the building in quite a hurry,” JARVIS spoke up. Tony’s entire chest filled with dread and the room was suddenly entirely too cold. Peter had heard. How much had he heard? Didn’t matter, he heard enough to just leave. He’d done it again, he’d ruined the one good thing he had left--

“I’ve ruined this already,” Tony wheezed, finding it difficult to breathe. Rhodey’s hands landed on his arms, his best friend coaching him through taking some deep breaths.

“You didn’t. We both made a pretty huge mistake, but we can fix it. Let’s go talk to him, we can explain.” Tony shook his head, placing his hand on Rhodey’s and removing it.

“No, I need to fix this. Thanks though.” He gave Rhodey a weak smile before rushing out the door, following JARVIS’ directions up to the penthouse.

“Peter!” He called out as the elevator doors opened. He heard shuffling in their bedroom and ran over to the doorway.

Peter was packing a bag. That feeling of dread in Tony's chest intensified as he took in the scene.

“What?” The younger man asked coldly, shoving clothing into his suitcase in a hurried manner that was so unlike him. Usually he treated his things with more care, folding each item carefully before placing it gently in Ben’s old suitcase.

“Just-stop packing, okay?” Tony walked over to where the suitcase rested on the bed and gently tried to block Peter from placing another shirt inside. Thanks to Peter’s ridiculously good reflexes, he was unsuccessful.

“Why? So I can keep listening to the bullshit you and Rhodey were spewing downstairs?” Peter asked, and Tony sighed as he continued to pack. Eventually, the billionaire just started taking the clothes back out of the suitcase, something Peter squawked at. For a few moments, there was just a flurry of movement as Tony took clothing out and Peter rushed to put it back in.

“Knock it off!” Peter cried out after a few moments, catching Tony’s wrists in his hands and holding them tightly.

“Then hear me out,” Tony said, trying to stay calm for them both. On the inside, though, he was terrified. And maybe a little turned on by Peter manhandling him like that--

Focus, Tony.

“Fine,” Peter practically growled as he released Tony’s wrists and took a step back from his suitcase. “Talk, then.”

“First of all, what you heard was taken wildly out of context,” Tony started, and Peter immediately scoffed and rolled his eyes. The younger man crossed his arms over his chest defensively, taking a few steps back from his boyfriend and fixing him with an incredulous look.

“Oh, so you weren’t talking about how much you don’t want to marry me? How you can’t?” He spat out, the words seemingly spearing directly through Tony’s heart.

“Peter-”

“Don’t Peter me. If you didn’t want to marry me, you could have just fucking said so!” Peter said, clearly distressed but trying to hold back tears. “No, but instead-instead, you strung me along for four goddamn years only to tell your friend that you can’t marry me instead of telling me! Do you not see how fucked up that is, Tony?! The second you overheard me you should have come to me instead of avoiding me like the plague! I thought I’d done something wrong, but I guess the only thing that I did wrong was loving you too much.”

“I-”

“No, I’m not finished,” Peter said, pointing at him. Something in his gaze, in the way he held himself in such a defensive way that he’d never been around Tony before, made the genius shut up. “Four years is plenty of time to tell me you don’t want to marry me. Plenty of time for you to let me go so we can both move on. Why didn’t you? What did you think was going to happen? That we were just going to stay boyfriends forever? Newsflash, Tony, in adult relationships there’s this thing called commitment.”

“I have been wholly committed to this relationship for four years, Parker,” Tony growled, more than a little bit of anger peeking through the fear at those words.

“Congratu-fucking-lations! You’re not acting like an adult though, are you? Committing to a relationship means commitment for the future, too! Not just right now.” Peter yelled - he was yelling now - and something inside Tony broke.

“I never said I didn’t want to marry you!” He yelled, and both of them fell into a shocked silence. Tony never raised his voice - not at Peter, anyway. Sure, they’d fought before, but Tony was usually calmer and when he did get angry he never yelled like that. They both took a few breaths before Tony ran his hands over his face and continued.

“I never said the problem was you,” he rephrased, voice softer now as he glanced down at the floor. “I’m the problem, Peter.”

“You’re the-”

“No, stop. Just let me talk.” Tony’s voice was exhausted, defeated even. He knew this was coming, despite Rhodey telling him otherwise. Despite hoping his days of setting relationships on fire and then watching them burn were over.

“Okay,” Peter agreed in an equally quiet tone. He felt slightly bad for screaming at Tony like that, but given what he’d overheard it had felt justified at the time. Now, after seeing his boyfriend look so utterly broken like this? He wasn’t so sure.

“This,” Tony gestured between them. “This is what I do. I cause problems. My relationships start out great and then inevitably I fuck it up somehow. A suit comes to protect me from a nightmare. I forget an anniversary because I’m too busy tinkering in the lab.” He finally met Peter’s eyes. “I take my fears of losing you to my best friend instead of to you, like I should have.” Something in Peter’s eyes softened slightly at that last admission, and Tony swallowed before continuing.

“Four years with you isn’t enough, Peter. Our whole lives won’t be enough. Of course I want to marry you. But I can’t. I can’t marry you because then when I fuck up and lose you then we’re both going to be in for a world of hurt. It’ll be easier if we just stay like this.” Peter took in a breath like he wanted to say something but Tony kept talking. “I’m not saying dating is going to make it so I never screw this up, but it’ll at least let me enjoy this a little longer. Enjoy you a little longer.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then another.

After a few moments, Peter walked up to Tony and gently took his hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over calloused knuckles.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered fondly, and Tony tried to jerk his hands out of Peter’s grip. His boyfriend was too fast, though, holding on steadily and continuing those soft touches.

“That’s not news,” Tony tried to joke, but his voice was weak.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Peter murmured.

“I just did! Almost. You were packing!”

“Because I thought my boyfriend didn’t want to marry me. I thought-” Peter broke off, taking in a shaky breath as tears came to his eyes. “I thought you wanted marriage, but not with me. Why would I stay and make us both go through a relationship where neither one of us is ever going to get what we really want?”

Tony could almost kiss his stupid, selfless boyfriend. Of course Peter fucking Parker would put his own heart into the line of fire to make sure Tony got what he really wanted.

“Now that I know that that’s not what you meant, I’m here to stay. Of course I’m here to stay. I love you, Tony.” Peter reached up and pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s cheek, squeezing his hands lightly.

“So you understand why I can’t?” Tony asked, and Peter rolled his eyes. The action was more fond now than it was angry.

“No, I don’t. But we’re going to work on it. As long as what we both want most is each other, then we can work it out. I’m not going to let your fears get in the way of us.” Peter smiled sweetly up at Tony, who felt slightly dizzy. Peter wasn’t leaving him. They were going to be okay.

“I’ll work on it,” he promised, voice barely more than a whisper.

“We will,” Peter amended. Tony simply nodded before leaning down, capturing Peter’s lips in a fierce kiss. He finally pulled his hands free of that soft grip and wrapped them around the smaller man, tugging him into his chest and holding him close.

As they slowly broke apart, Tony barely held back a whine and tried to chase after Peter’s lips. His boyfriend just laughed, placing a gentle finger on Tony’s lips.

“Wanna help me get my clothes off the bed?” He asked, and the older man groaned at the thought of cleaning up.

“Do we have to?” He asked.

“Well, we can’t exactly have fantastic make-up sex if the bed is covered in all my clean clothes,” Peter pointed out, smirking as he mouthed along Tony’s neck before pulling away.

Tony, ever the genius, simply ripped the comforter off the bed and tossed it aside, revealing sheets with no clean clothing in the way.

“Fixed,” he crowed, picking Peter up and placing him on the bed. The laughter that rang out in their bedroom as he climbed on top of his boyfriend was something Tony knew he would cherish.

They had things to work through, that was for sure. But it was like Peter said. As long as they both wanted each other, Tony had a feeling they would figure it all out.

#blazingparker writes #starker #starker fic #starker community #peter parker x tony stark

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helenazbmrskai · 4 years ago

Text

It’s all timing - pjm

– If you’re searching for a light and fluffy read well, this won’t be your cup of tea so continue with caution darlings! –

Title – It’s all timing

Pairing – cold husband! Jimin x clocksmith! OC

Genre – fantasy, romance, extreme amount of angst, time travel, smut, marriage, established relationship, Ceo, exes to lovers

Summary – I learnt the hard way that marriage can change a person. I would have never thought that an old watch will let me have a glimpse of my ex-husband’s world but don’t be mistaken I’m not here to fix things. I’m here to change it.

Warning(s) – Jimin is not a loveable character here (until way way later), cheating, mentions of emotional abuse and manipulation, falling in and out of love, the past and present clash a lot, different timelines that may be confusing, this is going to be a wild ride girls and boys, themes of depression and sadness, feeling of worthlessness, and self-image distortion, numbness, discussion of not wanting to have children. Unedited.

Word Count – (5.2k)

[21st March 2021]

Things between us were not always complicated. Our friendship was always exceptional even when friends fought and sought different ways after freshman year at the local Community College, Jimin and I were glued to each other’s side and maybe that’s why no one was surprised as we announced our plans to get married after we graduated.

The new world that greeted us after we finished high school only seemed meaningful because I had Jimin by my side. At that time I had no idea I’ll fall for him this hard, he literally became the extension of myself, my arms and limbs and the lungs that kept me alive. He was my first serious boyfriend even though I dated a few guys here and there before him but none of those relationships seemed to work out either because of me or the guy. Jimin is someone who could easily have his ways with words so when he decided to show interest in me as in more than friends, it was inevitable that I would give in. He was a wonderful lover in the beginning. Passionate and loving, we had many movie nights that ended up with his hands down my pants as his thick fingers rubbed my clit. He bought me flowers and comforted me when I had a bad day.

His cunning smile could get him out of a lot of trouble. Maybe that’s why I never saw the other side of him that sometimes peeked through his carefully crafted mask. I decided to ignore all the red flags until I found myself in a loveless marriage with a man that I couldn’t recognise anymore. Once I realised what had happened it was already too late.

[12nd November 2018]

Jimin hated the fact that I was a heavy sleeper. He even threatened me once that he’ll sleep in the guest room if he had to wake up one more time to my alarm relentlessly ringing while I showed no signs of waking up any time soon.

My workspace was on the other side of town. The rent was cheap so it was worth the extra miles and the full tank of gas in my car but because of it I had to wake up extra early so I could finish showering then I would go to the kitchen to make lunch for Jimin to take with him to work and still have enough time to get ready with a freshly brewed coffee in one hand and toast in the other. Even after our first year in marriage passed by like a flash, Jimin continued to be his affectionate self, he showered me with kisses and felt needy for my touch.

It was one of our best years together. Jimin started to get more involved with his father’s company and my workshop began to gain more popularity to my greatest surprise. While I was working on an old clock that was brought into my shop by an old married couple a few hours ago my focus kept wandering back to this morning. Smiling under my nose as I thought back to why I was late to open up my little workshop this particular morning.

Jimin likes to be spontaneous he always calls me a bore when I hesitate to try out new things but this time he did not have to do much convincing before I agreed. It was weirdly satisfying to wake up to Jimin’s head buried between the juncture of my thighs, shaking and aroused even though I couldn’t feel or hear him do all those sinful things to me while I was asleep. I didn’t feel him take off my panties or lift the covers to expose my bare centre to his hungry eyes and when our gazes met he proudly told me how well I took his fingers even while I was unconscious.

Experimenting was not something I was willing to do before Jimin showed me the appeal of trying out new things. With him by my side, I felt invincible like I could conquer the world if he stays next to me holding my hand tight.

We outlived all expectations. They said high school sweethearts don’t last, well, we did. Even though both of our parents were against the idea of us marrying each other so young we ended up doing just that. Jimin proposed after we got our diploma and I said yes. We lived together as roommates throughout all those years we spent together studying and we moved in together after both of us got our first jobs as postgrads.

I was happy it felt like we were at the top of the world but if I had known that after that year everything will go downhill I would have tried to be happier.

[24th December 2019]

Do you know what are the telltales of cheaters? Well, it starts with subtle changes in his behaviour, you begin to see him less he makes up excuses of having too much work to do or stress so that he could avoid your advances.

He tries to make it up to you with expensive gifts but they mean nothing after the tenth impersonal present because all you would ever want is his attention and love instead of those pathetic attempts of showing their devotion with empty words. The last and most important one on the list is the new anonymous contact on his phone that shows several phone calls and text messages back and forth for hours.

Jimin did all of those.

He stopped experimenting with me. He would fuck me from behind even when I told him I want to see his face. No foreplay, no more cute nose kisses and breathless laughs between the acts of lust and playful wandering fingers.

He no longer cared if I finished first or not at all because after he was done it meant it was over. Jimin took a shower and crawled into bed facing away from me now that this task was taken care of. After the fifth time that he left me hanging, I gathered all the courage that’s left in me to stop his hands from dipping under my pants. I felt disgusted and used he made me think I’m a mere fucktoy that he can discard once it lost its appeal.

I had one of the worst days at work. The clock I was working on was missing a crucial part that I could only import from abroad and the man who wanted it fixed told me to don’t bother because he can’t afford such an expensive repair. It was not something that I could control, the clock was antique for fucks sake. He left without paying for my services even though I told him it was not the only part that I needed to change.

On my way home, a drunk man almost crashed into me with his Sedan and it left me a little shaken up, it was justified to feel the way I was and when Jimin tried to make a move on me by groping my breasts without asking permission first I just snapped.

Not one to back up he snapped right back and it led to one of our ugliest fights. I couldn’t believe the words he so carelessly let out from between those poisonous lips. We had quarrels before every couple has that, it’s normal to disagree to some extents but he went too far this time around. It’s not just the words that left me a crying mess on our bedroom floor with snot stuffing my nostrils, sniffing and rubbing the tears from my swollen eyes. I broke down once I heard the front door shut with a force that made the windows shake. It was past midnight when I heard shuffling and muffled voices, I knew Jimin was back so I cracked the door open just enough to peek into the dark living room.

It was not just Jimin, the smell of alcohol penetrated my nostrils as I watched my husband with disgust, making out with a girl in our shared apartment. I couldn’t believe the audacity he had to bring this chick back where we’re supposed to live together, it was just too much. Hearing him ram into her from the guest bedroom while I cried in our shared bedroom with just one wall separating us. I bet he didn’t even hear the front door closing while I dialled my friend’s number to pick me up. He couldn’t have heard that over that girl’s loud moaning.

I don’t remember when I finally stopped crying in my friend’s arms. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. It was enough humiliation to witness my once loving husband come home with a quick fuck after a fight, it doesn’t matter that he was reeking of expensive shots of alcohol. It didn’t make his actions any less painful.

My heart broke into a million more pieces when I saw him calling me the next day. I didn’t have the guts to pick up, all I could see was him kissing another girl. I bet he was so drunk that he couldn’t remember anything, I wonder if he yelled at the girl in the morning to get the fuck out once he realised it’s not me who lays beside him. Wishful thinking on my part, he probably fucked her in the morning too just before he called me.

Somi finds my body doubled over her toilet throwing up water since it’s been a while I last ate. She helps me through it and gently gathers my hair into a loose ponytail so I won’t get any in my hair as beads of sweat and tears are rolling down my face. My body works on autopilot going through the cleaning motions as I take a burning hot shower and then lay down to get some rest. My body aches and the fatigue is evident in every lazy flutter of my lashes.

I hear his voice, pleading to my friend to let him see me. Now it’s dark outside, it must be hours that I slept through. Somi denies that I’m here and I’m thankful for her quick understanding, the last thing I want right now is to face him. Even though I never told her what happened between us she could sense that it’s more than just a little lovers quarrel.

Our second anniversary would have been next month but instead of roses and kisses next to a dimly lit dinner table, there’s only a big envelope with papers. Divorce papers. The first time he sees me after a month of silence is to have his signature that would end this relationship for good. Today should have been a nice memory filled with laughter and passionate lovemaking. Maybe we were never meant to find each other. Better off as friends, these simple yet powerful words might have saved our future back then if one of us were brave enough to say it.

Jimin looks worn out, it’s obvious he rushed here from his office once you called, he wears his formal attire. He didn’t think you would show up even though it’s supposed to be the day that you should celebrate another year of marriage.

The papers lay heavy on his side of the table as he skims through the content he sees that you already signed your part. He picks up the pen that I prepared in advance, his hands are shaking almost crushing the poor stationery in half with the strength that he holds it.

”I don’t want to d-divorce.” It’s the first sentence that he says to me. His lips are quivering and fat tears are rolling down his cheeks by the time he dares to look into my eyes. I’m however are past the point of shedding crocodile tears. I cried over him enough times to make my face feel numb and puffy with the amount of sadness that poured out of my body in pathetic waves. I can’t keep eye contact for long as his face keeps reminding me of that night I tried so hard to erase from my memory this past month. A part of me is furious seeing him cry, he was the one who sealed out fate. He has no right to feel sad or plead with me to give him another chance.

”If you ever loved me, you will sign it. I give you a week to do the right thing.” With those last words, our anniversary ended.

[13rd October 2020]

”It’s been a whole year after your divorce, don’t you think it’s time to get yourself out there again?” So this is why she wanted to see me I realise.

I know Somi means well, but I dread those words coming out of her mouth every once in a while. If I think about it she was always good at choosing the worst timing to bring the subject up. She’s not aware that this particular day holds a lot of those sour memories that I once cherished. This day was once one of the most important days to me, to us.

Today is Jimin’s Birthday, it’s the first time since we became friends and then later lovers that we don’t spend this day together anymore. I don’t know how to feel about it yet. I used this new year to heal from my wounds that the love of my life left behind. Getting used to living alone after living with someone for so long was tough. I caught myself making more food than I needed or when I was shopping I got those yoghurts that Jimin loves so much even though I’ve always hated the taste of those. I end up throwing them out at home. I blocked his number and any kind of social media that I could think of from the top of my head. The silence between us was crushing at first, I thought that there are no more tears left to shed but when I got our divorce papers from my attorney I couldn’t stop the new waves of tears from escaping.

Yet all my efforts seem to be in vain as my mind keeps going back to him. I catch myself wondering how he’s doing. If he feels as shitty as me even after a full year apart. If he ever wished things would have been different between us. I just wanted to know if he ever regretted destroying our marriage because of another girl. I don’t know if they are together or not or if he dates her now that I’m out of the picture but it’s better left this way. I’m already heartbroken, seeing him again would just open up my barely healed wounds.

”Can we not talk about this today? I’m feeling kinda low right now.” I sigh, shaking my head habitually if only it would make me stop thinking about him. There’s an old fashioned watch with a silver-coated socket in front of me, it’s pretty. A middle-aged woman brought it to me today telling me that it was a gift from his grandfather but it was never in working condition. She went to several locksmiths over the years but no one could fix it so she asked at last that I would be willing to pay for it. I found it interesting so I agreed to buy it from her. I started working on the old watch and at the beginning, it didn’t want to tick even when I made the necessary changes. I just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it when seemingly it didn’t have anything that needed to be fixed.

On my way home after a rough day at work, I bought some soju from the corner convenience store so I could at least get drunk enough to sleep through the whole night. The pills my therapist prescribed for me doesn’t seem to work at all nowadays.

I placed the watch down onto my bedside table and pulled the comforter over my drunk head. I heard the loud ticking of a clock but I don’t remember having one on the wall. I thought that my drunk mind probably was still hung up on the fact that I couldn’t even fix a simple watch so I shrugged the noises off and closed my eyes until red dots filled my vision.

I just need some sleep.

[13rd November 2018]

”Wake up, baby. You’ll be late again.” There’s a kiss on my shoulder then on my temple as warm hands turn me around in bed. It feels oddly familiar to have two hands around my waist that pulls me into a hard chest, blond fluffy hair fills my vision once my eyelashes flutter open.

I’m back in our shared bedroom at his lavish apartment that’s a lot better than the shitty apartment that I was able to afford after our messy divorce. Divorce? Wait. A. Fucking. Minute. What is Jimin doing here holding me? It’s been too long that I saw him but he looks oddly young here, the Jimin I last saw started to get wrinkles and lost a bit of weight but this man reminds me of the boy I fell in love with. I remember getting drunk last night but I’m sure even at the state I was in I couldn’t get here on my own and I don’t remember getting a taxi or even getting up from my bed last night. I frantically search for my phone that I conveniently find on the nightstand, speechless as I watch Jimin stretch like we just didn’t share a bed together after one year of not seeing each other. He shouldn’t look so relaxed while I panic internally.

Then I see the date as my phone screen activates with my touch. I don’t use this phone anymore, I got another one after I blocked Jimin’s number because this device was a birthday present from him that kept reminding me of, well, him so I decided to change it even though I couldn’t afford a similar model like this with my single salary. I remember this day like it only happened yesterday it was around the time that he got a good position at his father’s company and we were both invited to a found raiser event. I bought this beautiful red dress that he eagerly ripped off of me once we were back at home slightly buzzed on the champagne.

It doesn’t make sense though. The only explanation that I can come up with is that I might be still drunk and I’m hallucinating of some sort after all it was just yesterday that Jimin’s birthday made me think about us again.

I lock myself into the bathroom. Sighing in relief once I am able to get away from Jimin’s inquiring eyes. He looked so confused when I refused to kiss him on the lips. I always kissed him goodbye before I went to work when things were still good between us. I just don’t know what to make of things right now, I’m so confused. It doesn’t feel like a dream at all and Jimin acts like he’s my husband rather than my ex-husband who cheated on me.

I splash some water on my face to calm down my nerves and I gasp when I look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair, it’s long. I got rid of those long locks after our divorce was done, Jimin liked my hair like this, long and curly, so I decided to cut it short.

”Baby, did you bring your work home? I don’t remember seeing this old thing on our nightstand when we went to sleep.” Eyes widening I rip open the bathroom door startling Jimin as I grab the old watch out of his hands. The digits are frozen one at eight and the other at one. 18. 2018? Jimin catches my hand mid-air as I try to slap myself so I could make sure this is not a dream.

”Baby say something. You’re scaring me. Are you alright?” Jimin holds my hand gently thumbs rubbing my skin as his eyes express his worry. It’s been a while since he was so affectionate. He stopped caring for me after he found that girl. I let him pull me into a hug, I missed this. I missed him but this moment doesn’t change the fact that the Jimin I loved so much cheated on me.

I left to go to work earlier than I used to around this time and I know Jimin noticed. I told him to get some takeout for lunch too.

I worked on the clocks hoping that it will distract me but it just made me think of what happened this morning more. Doing it the second time around made the process easier, I knew what was wrong with the clocks before I get them into pieces. I even remembered the young couple who brought an expensive watch to get it more fitted to his arms and he accidentally left his bracelet on my working bench after trying on the watch to see it fits after the adjustments.

Jimin sulked a little after I denied his kisses but he didn’t force me and for that I was thankful. He nagged me even when we were surrounded by his father’s workers at the found raising event to tell him what made me ’mad’ at him because he wants to apologize properly if he did something wrong. I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t just tell him he should apologize for something he will do in the future, it will just make me the weird one.

I was nervous to go home after the event because I remember how this night was supposed to end. My hand tightens around his arm when I see her approach us. I feel my stomach sink when she smiles at the both of us, introducing herself as Jimin’s coworker. I didn’t remember meeting her here but at that time I had no idea she’ll be the one who my husband cheats on me with. It was dark that day but I remember her blonde hair and her voice. I remember her moaning Jimin’s name.

”Y/N?” I snap my head towards the sound of his voice. He looks concerned it’s not the first time tonight that he had to repeat what he said. I feel sick, my body subconsciously leans on him to get a grip of reality.

I realised this is when it began. Her smile is anything but genuine as she fakes her concern, I can see the jealousy in her dark orbs as she watches my hand around my husband’s arm. She wanted him for herself all this time. She just doesn’t know yet that she succeeded a year after. A tear slid down my cheeks but I aggressively got rid of it before it could reach my chin. Jimin caged me between his strong arms drawing soothing circles onto my back but it doesn’t affect my body positively how it used to I cried harder inside his arms.

Jimin excused us and she relented even though it was clear as day that she wanted to send me daggers through her stare rather than her wishes for me to get better. The car ride was silent, he didn’t let go of my hand and I let him. I let this version of Jimin comfort me because he didn’t do anything wrong, not yet. He had no idea that this was our last happy years spent together before everything went downhill after that.

He held me in his arms.

[5th March 2019]

After my revisit of 2018, I realised a few things. Firstly, I can travel between time with that old watch that only seem to works for a short period of time until it stops at the year I want to visit. The second thing I learnt is that Jimin can be manipulated with the right words. I decided after that night I saw her face raging with malice and jealousy that I’ll find out what really had happened between them. I know Jimin loved me even though I had doubts about it after our divorce. I knew him well we spend so much time together as friends even before we started dating. However, I never thought he would go so low as to cheat on his wife.

He was always gentle and understanding with me. Accepting the fact that I didn’t want to have children. He loved them but accepted me for who I was and never questioned why I felt this way. He was a good man, a good husband.

So I decided to watch him from afar and when she thought no one was looking, she showed her teeth like a venomous snake planting ideas into Jimin’s head talking shit about me, twisting my actions and words; going as far as telling him she thinks I am cheating on him! I know those pictures were fake as I did no such thing. I was so in love with him I would never betray him like that.

Then I remembered his odd change in behaviour, how he treated our once lovemaking sessions as fucking. How he couldn’t look into my eyes while he buried his dick inside my cunt made sense in a way now.

He thought I was the one who played him. He let himself believe that I was late from our dinners because I was fucking someone behind his back and when I told him I’m not in the mood to have sex. He got even angrier he thought that if I lied to his face he will show me what pain feels like by fucking that snake in our guest bedroom. My head was swimming overwhelmed with this information.

The truth hurt like hell.

I thought I will feel somewhat better once I discovered the truth but I feel even shitter. Jimin believed her, he didn’t bother to ask me if I was indeed cheating on him but can I really blame him? I didn’t ask either when I suspected it. We let our insecurities and that jealous bitch stand in between our marriage making it crumble down to pieces. I was angry, raging as my hand shook with it and it led me back to that day it happened. It felt too late to fix things so I closed my eyes and turned the clock. Leaving everything behind. Once and for all.

There’s nothing left for me to change in our past, I can’t fix our past mistakes but maybe I could change things in the future. Starting with exposing that snake. I wasn’t even surprised to see her as the head of the newly developed department.

[11st April 2021]

Jimin took over the firm after his father fell ill as I got to know from her assistant. I could tell she was surprised to see my face but even more surprised to realise it’s not Jimin’s whereabouts that I want to know but rather hers.

I shouldn’t be this smug about the fact that he cut all ties with her after our divorce. Deep down he was still a good man who couldn’t believe the fact that he fucked someone else while his wife cried next door with just one thin wall separating them.

I pictured this moment in my head a lot after I came back from the past. I’m way past the hurt and anger that settled in my bones for a full year and even before that. Instead, I felt eerily calm for someone who’s here to put up a show for the employees. I don’t even care if they think I’m crazy because once I locate her in her cubicles and dig my hair into her scalp pulling her hair hard with my iron grip all I could feel is utter satisfaction.

”I hope you enjoyed your good fuck. Was it satisfying to make my husband a cheater? I bet it was. Did you think I will never find out that you fed him lies and spread rumours about me sleeping around with men?”

Even the security watched as I pulled her by the hair the commotion around us almost drowned out the crying noises she made because of the pain. I didn’t pull that hard though, I hate her with every fibre of my being but I’m not a malicious person like her. She would deserve worse than what I’m doing but I never want to go down to her level ever again so I let her go.

”How did you found out?” She looked pale as a ghost. I know she was scared she had every right to be because I’m sure I have that crazy look in my eyes.

”It doesn’t matter. What does matter, however, is that now I know what you did to him. All for what? Just to have him all to yourself? Look how that turned out for you.” The people around us fell silent that’s how I knew Jimin is here. So I took a step closer to her and smiled.

”I never cheated on him but you know this well. This is not even why I feel so angry. The reason why I want to rip your hair out right this instant is not because you spread lies and badmouthed me but because you made him a cheater.”

It’s his first time seeing me after our divorce but I’ve been seeing him these past weeks thanks to the old watch. This time around I was able to look into his eyes and see that boy I fell in love with. We went through so much together, maybe.

Maybe we can overcome this too.

©️ helenazbmrskai (Like and Reblog don’t repost!)

#jimin angst #btsghostie #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts angst #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin x oc #jimin #bts

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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sports promoter!kuroo + taking care of his pregnant wife

anon: Hi ur farmer kita and atsumu x pregnant reader fics were so good and heartwarming is it alright to ask for a kuroo one 👉👈

i think i got this request right after releasing the atsumu one and i’m so glad you guys have been liking it so far! these have been super fun to write and i like having that mix of fluff and crack in these hc’s. SO YEAH I’M SUPER EXCITED FOR THIS KUROO ONE I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT TOO !!

i feel like kuroo would be the type to fall for someone he’s known for quite some time because he likes that sense of familiarity with another person

the two of you had been good friends in high school and admittedly, you also had a crush on him because who didn’t

sadly, the two of you lost touch a bit when you entered different universities BUT you had a fateful run-in at the MSBY Jackals vs. Schweiden Adlers game

you were there as a journalist and you couldn’t mistake that familiar bedhead for anyone else so you just had to come over and say hi

meanwhile, kuroo couldn’t take his eyes off you, especially seeing how beautiful you look now

after you conducted your interviews, kuroo decided to straight-up ask if you were free later that evening and you were. he took you out to a nice restaurant and the two of you were able to catch up

from then on, the two of you meet quite often, most especially at work because you were a journalist for a sports news channel

kuroo isn’t the type to beat around the bush so he ended up asking you out on an official date to which you said yes

he is the SWEETEST boyfriend. be prepared for lots of text messages filled with every heart emoji you can think of and him just dropping in randomly while you’re at work to give you hug or a kiss

despite how busy he is, kuroo loves making time for dates with you, whether it’s eating dinner together or catching a movie

you love the fact that even though he’s grown up, kuroo is still pretty much the same science-loving dork you fell for in high school

some of your at-home dates involve the two of you eating popcorn and watching the newest science documentary series on national geographic and discovery channel

idk why but i feel like kuroo is super into River Monsters and Shark Week and you find it cute how you can hear his little squeals of excitement while sitting on his lap

i feel like kuroo isn’t really the type of guy who thinks that marriage is an absolute must. as long as you guys love each other he’s down with living with you forever

and then he finds out that marriage has tax benefits and he’s like ‘guess i gotta put a ring on it’

jk it’s also because he loves you

*whispers* but tax benefits tho

kuroo is gonna be SUPER EXTRA about proposing to you. i’m talking dinner at a fancy restaurant, a trip to the rooftop, then he’ll have a fireworks display with the words ‘will you marry me?’ written across the sky (actually idk if this is illegal but lets pretend it isn’t)

now y’all are engaged

kuroo is honestly the best at wedding planning. he probably likes it more than you and he already has a pinterest board of wedding inspo and everything

he loves sending and showing you wedding cake ideas and even napkin folds so you have to rein him in a bit because kuroo gets excited really easily

you guys have a classic wedding but for the reception kuroo probably begged for you to have a nerdy theme. eventually you went with space exploration and kuroo showed up wearing a spacesuit

he also had a special dance number specifically prepared for you and he even got bokuto, akaashi, lev and kenma into it and it was amazing

was the number ‘i want it that way’ by the backstreet boys? yes

immediately after getting married, kuroo brings up the subject of having kids because he’s always wanted to have a family of his own and kids to raise

plus he knows you’ll be a GREAT mom

expect his ‘wanna have sex ;)’ texts to turn into ‘are you ovulating rn?’ texts kuroo pls stop this is embarassing

also i personally feel that even though kuroo is a science geek he also got into astrology because that’s what the kids are doing these days

you try to surprise him with birthday sex but then he’s all ‘y/n, if you get pregnant this month our baby is going to be a cancer and i don’t want that’

i hate u cancers, myself included

after choosing a due date zodiac sign for your baby, kuroo is ready to have a baby with you

when you find out you’re pregnant kuroo was actually at work but he ditched whatever he was doing and took a bus all the way home to see you

one of his favorite things to do is talk to your baby and caress your little bump and kuroo will talk about ANYTHING: the weather, how his day was, how beautiful you look every day, the new River Monsters episode

you: kuroo, please that’s the fifth time you’ve told our baby that catfish swallowing a man whole story

kuroo: you’re right. should i tell them the piranha story instead?

i just know that kuroo would be the type to film a video of the two of you all throughout your nine months of pregnancy to show the baby

it’s honestly so cute how excited he gets whenever he’s filming himself

kuroo: hey baby! it’s your dad, talking to you from the past. by that time, there will be flying cars--

you, from the other room: THERE WON’T BE

kuroo: okay, hoverboards tho

he loves taking pictures of you and putting them in a little album for the memories. sometimes he’ll even show it to his friends or people at work (you have to tell him to stop tho because most of the pics are of you napping on the couch with junk food around you)

since he wants to be super prepared, kuroo would make sure that he takes time off work when your due date rolls around

when you feel your first contraction kuroo’s already there carrying you to the door and calling a taxi at the same time

he’s yelling out too many encouragements for you to focus on your breathing so you have to tell him to shut up for two minutes

i think kuroo would actually want to be in the delivery room to hold your hand and make sure everything’s okay and yell even more encouragements

except all his encouragements are related to volleyball

kuroo: give it one more good serve y/n!!

you: TETSUROU

kuroo’s the first one to hold your baby while you were still resting after the labor. he’s even there help the nurses give your child a bath

when a nurse comes up offering to put your child in the nursery kuroo’s all 🥺🥺but i wanna hold them 🥺🥺

when you wake up in the hospital room kuroo immediately rushes over to you with your child in his arms

kuroo: look y/n, it’s our child

you can tell that he’s very emotional

kuroo’s hugging the both of you real close and smiling at his little family

***********************************************

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @tpwkatsumu @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

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The Notebook

Will Graham x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: marriage proposal

Author’s Note: i wove him. I watched adventureland as well.

edit: this is directly contradictory to my last post where i said he wanted to keep it lowkey but I was feeling sappy when I wrote this like five months ago lmao

Summary: Will takes the reader to the carnival to surprise her

Genre: FLUFF

Song: I’m Yours by Koosen

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Will Graham was the best guy that you had ever known. You had known a lot of people too. It was just a simple fact. He beat out every asshole you had almost slept with, every guy you had miserably tried to date even the guys who tried to help you out with your homework when they just wanted to get in your pants.

And Will Graham was the only man you wanted. You had always wanted to.

And somehow, in a trippy way, it had just so happened you were wanted back. The world had never worked out for you or for Will for that matter. Either way somehow you had managed to find each other in a different wind up way that gave you both what you needed.

When you were with Will he made you feel like you were in a movie. In a boring movie sometimes but in one of those feel goods that people watched when they wanted to feel better. Of course there were some mishaps and neither of you had expected the whole jail Hannibal thing but it still felt perfect.

“Are you coming?” Jack asked.

You nodded.

Not so perfect all the time when Jack was involved.

It wasn’t that you hated him or anything but whenever you saw him he was either going to tell you about a murder or tell you something bad had happened to Will or something. He was always the bearer of bad news even if you did work together.

“What do you need me for?” you asked him again. It must have been the fifth time and he still had not answered you.

“Will needs you.”

“Will can call me if he needs me.” You looked up at Jack and noticed he had brought you to the front door. “Are we going somewhere? Oh is Will in the hospital again?” you asked, clearly worried and he shook his head.

“He’s not hurt. Get in the car.”

“Are you taking me to the morgue,” you whispered and he shook his head again and this time you got a laugh out of him.

“No morgue today. Come on.” You did as you were told and got into the passenger seat of the car. He started to drive and still wouldn’t tell you where he was taking you which was odd but you weren’t worried. You just figured he wanted Will to explain the crime scene to you instead which was usual. But he was usually much more of a talker.

“Jack can you give me a estimated time of-”

“Nope.”

You let out a sigh and leaned into the back of the car.

Eventually you came to a very dense part of the woods and then to the clearing where the carnival was. You scoffed.

“Good God did someone fall off the ferris wheel?” you asked and Jack let out a sigh. Will came into view as he pulled up to the front and Jack leaned across you to open your door. “You’re not coming?” you asked. He shook his head as you stepped out.

“You owe me one Graham.” Will nodded.

“Sure Jack,” he said with a small smile.

“What’s going on?” you asked. Jack pulled away and you turned to Will who gave you a nervous smile.

“Come on.”

The carnival was only in town every few months in the summer and was not you or Will’s usual scene. You hadn’t been since you were a kid and you were pretty sure he had never gone at all.

You followed him in silently and he got the tickets and walked in. It was pretty empty for it being so late at night in a nice summer afternoon. You gave him a look as he walked to the ferris wheel, you at his side.

“Are we going up here?” He raised a finger.

“One pitstop first.”

He gestured to the clown water game that they had where you squirt the water to make the balloon almost pop. You laughed.

“Really? Will can you please tell me what we’re doing here? I mean, not that I don’t enjoy it.”

“Play with me.”

You both sat down and started the game. You actually lost pretty quickly but Will won and got a tiny little teddy bear which he gave to you of course. You could tell he was nervous about something and you could not put your finger on what.

Eventually you made it to the ferris wheel and sat down, bar over your waists.

“Do you remember the pictures you gave me of when you were ten?” he asked. You laughed.

“Yeah. I guess that was the last time I came here.”

“And then you started talking about the notebook and how in the notebook Ryan Gosling climbs the ferris wheel to get to Rachel McAdams.” You nodded.

“Why yes. I do have that memory, it’s a fond one.”

Will gestured to the teddy bear. It was a small cute brown one with big eyes. You held him up a bit, careful not to drop him as the wheel went up higher. It eventually halted near the top and you laughed.

“Will what are you doing?” you asked quietly.

“Squeeze it.”

“Squeeze what?”

“The bear,” he said, laughing. You did as you were told and it was a distorted but there voice of Ryan Gosling saying, ‘Will you go out with me?’. You laughed and smiled widely.

“Oh my gosh that is so cute Will, I love it,” you said.

“I know it’s a little different, than in the movie and trust me I had to watch it again to know but…” he trailed off and you looked up at him to see a ring in his hand. You gasped and almost dropped the bear in excitement.

“Will-” you started but he cut you off.

“I will hang off the bar there if you want me too.”

“I’ll marry you Will, please don’t put yourself in danger we’re really high,” you said, laughing and beaming. Will laughed happily and nodded, putting the ring on your finger and then kissing you gently.

He put an arm out with a thumbs up and you looked down, noticing a multitude of people on the ground. The ferris wheel started moving again and you made out the faces of all your work friends, Jack, Kat, Alana, and even Hannibal had come out to watch.

“You did all this?” you asked. He nodded.

“Took so much out of me not telling you,” he said truthfully.

You put your arms around him again and blessed the notebook for being you in a truly perfect moment.

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal imagines

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lazaefair · 4 years ago

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Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet

Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes

poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.

lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT

sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES

lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress

sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise

lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype

sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude

lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.

sarah: YES

So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.

Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.

Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.

And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.

“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”

Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.

(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)

Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.

“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”

“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral.

“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.

Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.

And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—

Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.

Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.

To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”

“Mm,” Andy agrees.

So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.

“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.

“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.

“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.

“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”

The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:

His siren song.

His immortality.

What he gets in return:

Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.

Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.

Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.

The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.

“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”

Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.

“Holy shit. Did he just—”

“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”

“...”

“New best friend.”

“Obviously.”

Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.

Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.

Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.

Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.

(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)

It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.

“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”

“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—

Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?”

“What?”

“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”

And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.

They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.

(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)

(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”

“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)

#the old guard #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova #disney princess au #by lazaefair

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ficsilike-reblogged · 5 years ago

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Precious Inexperience

A/N: Welp. Should I be posting this on Easter? Probably not. This was written under the influence of the lack of sleep and the over-abundance of wine. This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s “What’s Old is New Again" Challenge. I used the prompt #14, “I do not know how to kiss or I would kiss you. Where do the noses go?” - Ingrid Bergman

Pairing: King!Robb Stark x F!Reader

Rating: M for DARK THEMES including dub-con, death, death of children, Robb being a dick, a bit of smut, and canon-typical sexism

Warnings: Again, dub-con/dubious consent, talk of pregnancy, men being terrible-PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The King in the North was now King of the Seven Kingdoms. Peace reigned. But Kings need heirs.

The King in the North they called him. King in the North even as he sat on the Iron Throne. Robb Stark was King of the Seven Kingdoms—won with bloody battles and dead wives. Alliances were sewn with marriages and Robb had easily taken a wife when it meant more men for his armies, more food to feed them, a stronger claim to the throne that had taken the head of his father all those years ago. A Frey girl. She’d been pretty. Pretty for Frey with small hips and a nice smile. She died in childbed—their son along with her. Then there was Margaery Tyrell. The beauty of the Reach. With the Reach under his command, Robb was unstoppable. Food was plentiful even as Winter came and went and the remaining forces loyal to the Crown starved and died.

Yes, she made a beautiful queen for a year. When her face turned purple and blood poured from her eyes, everyone cried “poison! Poison!” and pointed fingers at the Greyjoys, still refusing to bend the knee to their new king. No one ever truly knew who had murdered The Gracious Queen Margaery, but the heads of hundreds of Greyjoy bannermen decorated the pikes outside the Red Keep until the last Greyjoy, Yara, finally accepted his rule.

The Realm had peace, it seemed. The Dragon Queen had stayed in Essos with her army and her dragons and the Wildlings to the North had been eliminated under the command of his bastard brother, Jon Snow.

Peace, they said.

But, Kings need heirs.

The Westerlands submitted their prettiest maids from the best houses. The Stormlands, too. The Vale followed, along with the Riverlands, and the North. And Dorne, who had skillfully played both sides of the board during the war with the lions, had been slow to send a proposal.

The Martells were skittish, for good reason, to marry into another royal family. But that did not mean they did not want a Dornish woman to marry their new king. Robb had been kind to Dorne; knew their worth and history. He met with Prince Doran in the Water Gardens, personally, to broker an alliance and laughed with Ellaria Sand and Prince Oberyn at their feasts. The Northern King knew the power Dorne held. It had been no secret that Robb had sought Dorne’s council on many things.

But it came as a surprise to Y/N when Prince Doran sent for her and her father to come to the Water Gardens and meet with him. Her house was small and held modest power, nestled on the westernmost coast of Dorne, just south of House Dayne of Starfall. It was mostly a small naval fleet port and trading post with merchants from the Reach and Westerlands. As the fifth child of her family, she was often over-looked in many regards as her elder sister was groomed to one day take her place as head of the family. It was no bother to her, mostly. She was able to read and spend her time racing horses. Her Northern-bred mother was aghast when she had first learned of a few Dornish customs, but had softened immensely when she learned her firstborn, her daughter, had not made her a terrible wife. She’d produced an heir, after all. But the one frivolity she could not and would not condone was any sort of romantic interludes. She did not care that the rest of Dornish nobility embraced paramours and bastard children.

Y/N and her seven siblings were raised with Northern sensibilities in that regard. No men were left near her unsupervised. She was given little education on the art of romance other than the books she had to smuggle away from her mother’s prying eyes and, because she cared little for most people, it did not bother her in the slightest.

Marriage was not something she thought about often. Her house was secure with her sister and her marriage to Prince Doran’s son, Trystane. Her sister was pregnant with her second child already, much to the happiness of her family and the Martells. Her elder brothers were prosperous knights and her younger siblings were contemplating becoming maesters or a septa. The family coffers were plentiful. She needn’t marry for advantage in any regard.

Or so she had been led to believe.

When Prince Doran reached for her hand with a soft smile, she gave it to him readily, even as his heir, Princess Arianne could not offer a comforting expression. “The King has asked for a bride. You shall be our envoy.”

There was no argument. No brokering. No tears.

It was a strange sort of fog that clouded her mind as her father thanked Prince Doran and Princess Arianne for “the honor” and then tried to ready her for the trip to King’s Landing and the long days spent in the wheelhouse on the journey north. She hardly remembered any of it. The ladies maids were frantic about her, as they helped her dress in a pretty golden gown and pressed sweet-smelling perfume to her neck and wrists. All of it felt like it was happening to someone else. Not to her. Things like this didn’t happen to her. She would read and race horses and get scolded by her mother for smelling of hay or stealing berries from the kitchens.

It was a cattle show, if she had to give it a name. The potential brides were scattered about the throne room, their fathers at their sides, all primped and ready for inspection.

“Stand up straight, girl,” her father chided, a soft tone betraying his love for his second daughter.

“Yes, father,” Y/N murmured in return and did as he bid. “But, truly, you cannot believe he will even look at me.” She had always thought herself plain. It was no bother, really. Her sister was the heir and beauty and it took all the pressure of being a lady away. Her sister was kind to her, too. Perfect in every way. If she were standing here, Y/N was sure she would have been proposed to by now. And her younger sister was so enthralled with religion she hardly spoke of anything else.

“Prince Doran knows the King very well. He chose you for a reason.”

“Fine. But when we get sent home, I-”

“Your Grace.” Her father bowed and she quickly followed with a curtsey, grimacing at not noticing when the young King had stepped in their direction. “May I present to you my daughter, Lady Y/N.”

The King was handsome, obviously. His russet hair curled over the tops of his ears and even with the growing beard, he still had a young man’s roguish charm. Her heart suddenly constricted as he held out a hand toward her and her fingers shook as she placed her hand in his. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” His words were murmured, beard scratching against her fingers.

“L-likewise, Your Grace.”

Robb stood straight with a smirk and there was a gleam in his eye that made her stomach twist. He nodded to her father and walked away to greet the next lady as she deflated, breath rushing.

“Well, I hope are happy, Father. I did my part on behalf of Dorne.” She was ready to go home. Now. The look the King gave her left her unsettled. There was a darkness behind his pretty eyes, one she had only seen when faced with feral animals that would howl in the night outside her family’s castle walls.

But then some man in a grey and black surcoat, embroidered with a snarling direwolf, stepped to her father’s side and whispered in his ear before his unfamiliar eyes flickered to her. The exchange lasted barely a few seconds and soon the man was walking away, following his king through the shadows.

“What is it?”

Her father frowned and dropped his voice to a low whisper she had to strain to hear even as he bent to her level. “You’ve been requested to meet His Grace in the gardens tonight.”

“Tonight?” She parroted. “Will you be there?”

“No. This is to see if you would be compatible.” Even as the words left his mouth, she knew he did not understand them.

“Must I go?”

Her father nodded. Sealing her fate.

The gardens were quiet except for the chirping of an incessant bird hidden somewhere in the greenery. The only other person she had seen while following the map she’d been handed just after dinner, was a guard at the entrance who looked at her with hard eyes from beneath his helmet before letting her venture in to the twisting, turning paths of green.

She squinted at the crudely drawn map in the dim moonlight and hoped she had found the right place. There had been a statue, a few turns ago, of the King’s sister, Sansa, holding the head of Cersei Lannister on a platter. Before that, a statue of the slain Stark boys, Rickon and Bran, astride their direwolves—a dead lion was crumpled under their paws. Arya had to be somewhere, too. Y/N was sure of it. She wondered what her statue depicted her doing—Arya was known throughout the Realm for her vicious nature and love for her family. She had set sail to the West not long ago with her new husband, Lord Gendry Baratheon.

She sat down on the stone bench and folded the map, putting it away before chewing at the side of her thumb. Whether it was boredom or trepidation, she wasn’t sure. The entire situation seemed…off kilter. There was something bubbling beneath the surface she didn’t understand.

“My Lady.”

She quickly stood and curtseyed as the king walked around the corner and into the small clearing. “Your Grace.”

He reached for her hand and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “I’ve been told you are the fifth of eight children.”

She frowned at the strange start of the conversation but did nothing to deter it. “Yes, Your Grace. Two sisters and five brothers.”

Robb hummed and nodded, eyes raking down her form. “And your sister? She’s pregnant with her second child. After only two years of marriage.”

She nodded. “Yes. They are hoping for another boy.”

Robb’s eyes closed and another smile touched his lips, this one much more relaxed, as he settled on the bench behind him. “Good. That’s good.” She moved to sit beside him when he pressed a hand against her stomach and pushed her back. Her feet stumbled and he caught her at the waist, pressing his fingers into her skin with a grip that stung. “No. I want to look at you.”

Standing tall, she tried to even out her breath as she felt his eyes start to roam. His hands moved to her hips and his thumbs dug into bottom of her stomach, pulling a gasp from her lips. “Y-your Grace?”

“These…” He squeezed her hips. “These could do nicely.”

She looked down at her hips he seemed to be so attentive to, wondering what he could possibly mean. “Princess Arianne said I had my mother’s hips, perfect for children.” The compliment had always been a strange one, but the Princess assured her it was good.

Robb dragged her close, feet once again tangling and almost careening her forward as the young king kept her mostly steady. “Your father and Prince Doran have assured me that you are pure. I will ask you this only once. If you lie, I will know and the consequences will be severe. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, Your Grace.” Her heart was hammering a painful beat against her ribs as he looked up at her. “I understand.”

“Have you ever been with another man?” His eyes pinned her, cold and knowing.

“No. I have never even…” her words trailed off as heat washed down her spine.

“Finish what you were saying.” Another squeeze to her hips.

“I have never been kissed, Your Grace, let alone laid with a man. I am afraid my inexperience will only disappoint you.”

Robb’s answering smile reminded her of his family’s sigil; sharp, snarling teeth. As he stood, his hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts, and dragged her close. “You are mistaken, my lady. You have made me very happy.” And he kissed her then, stealing her breath as he pried her lips apart and shoved his tongue into her mouth. Shaking hands found purchase in his dark-colored tunic as she tried to keep up with his mouth that seemed determined to devour her whole.

The examination by the maester had left her shaking. “She is untouched, Your Grace,” the maester said to Robb as he waited outside her chambers. “As promised.”

The door hadn’t even closed and he was basically shouting her purity to the halls of the Keep. She curled into a ball on her featherbed and drew a pillow to her chest as if that would help take away the embarrassment and the discomfort from the Maester’s previously prodding instruments and fingers. She barely heard them speaking of fertility, her mother’s, her sister’s. Hers. Her bed dipped with the weight of someone sitting but she didn’t turn to see who it was, expecting her father.

“Could I have some tea, please, papa?” The old nickname for her father slipped out. “I feel like…I feel like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore.”

“It doesn’t.”

She sat straight at the sound of the king’s voice, fright grasping at her heart. “Your Grace, I-I-I-”

Robb suddenly loomed over her, legs bracketing her thighs and pressing her against her pillows. His hand slithered its way under her chemise to press against her bare stomach and she felt her heart try to lodge itself up in her throat. The scent of him, of leather and spice and ale, flooded her senses as he leaned closer to breathe his words against her mouth. “This belongs to me. All of it. All of you. I will make you round with my children as many times as your body can take if it pleases me.”

“Y-your Grace-” Her scared eyes looked over his shoulder to see the door to her chambers had been shut, sealing her away from the world.

“You will give me an heir that is mine without question and then you will give me more. More children to fill these cursed halls with something other than the whispers of politics and subterfuge.” He sat back on his heels watched her heaving chest with a smile that looked too soft for him now. “You have made me a very happy man, Y/N.”

Her name sounded strange on his tongue.

And she hated how much she liked it.

The ceremony had been ornate and befitting of the young king and his new queen. She traded her father’s colors for black and grey and silver and felt the snarling direwolf pressing against her back with the new bridal cloak even as his pretty lips pressed against hers and the crowd cheered.

She was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

His third queen.

The festivities came and went and soon she was alone with him in his chambers and he hardly kissed her again before her dress was discarded and her chemise torn to near shreds. And it hurt. Every slap of his hips as he rutted against her brought her closer to some strange precipice she couldn’t name, cresting between pleasure and pain. Coiling tighter and tighter in her stomach like a terrible snake.

“You’ll give me a boy,” he said, breath hot against her ear as he dragged her ever closer. “You’ll give me children.”

“I will,” she whimpered in return, fingers trying to find a grip on his slick back. A scream nearly wrenched its way from her throat as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder. “I will!”

His thrusts turned animalistic and her head nearly hit the carved headboard as he pushed her further and further up the overstuffed featherbed and then, with a final thrust, he sunk his deepest yet into her and stayed there as warmth shot through her.

And her coil snapped, legs shaking and eyes rolling with convulsions she couldn’t stop.

He stayed inside her for a while, prick softening. And it was the gentlest he’d been with her since the ceremony, letting his hands roam her torso, sponging kisses to her face and breasts, murmuring how she’d give him an heir.

“I will,” she said again, words not her own, body still reeling with aftershocks. “I will.”

Robb held her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, almost repentantly. “You will. Or you will see The Stranger just as Roslin and Margaery did. Do you understand?”

It was only after she had ‘accepted’ his proposal had she learned that Roslin had birthed a boy that could never have been Robb’s son, born too early to have been conceived by him, and Margaery had been barren. She nodded and gently pushed the hair away from his eyes, now uncaring that they held very little warmth when they looked at her. Maybe they would when she gave him a son. Maybe he could love her then.

When he finally pulled out of her, he canted her hips up and shoved a pillow beneath them to keep her aloft. “Stay like that until morning.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

A/N: Well, there you go. Please tell me what you think.

Part two

#Robb Stark x Reader #roosoldhollywood #darkfic #dub-con #Robb Stark #game of thrones #dubious consent #dub con #trigger warning #tw: dub con #tw: dub-con #tw: dubious consent

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flipmeforward · 4 years ago

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mrs. poindexter (dex/nursey, pg-13)

WARNING: contains marriage proposal. the whole thing is soft af. inspired by this post on instagram. link to ao3.

Derek doesn’t see the actual invite until the night before the event. When he does see it, he’s pretty sure Dex has kept it away from him for fear of him going all Shitty on the institution that is Dex’s new employer, and okay, that’s fair, but it also makes him sort of ... nervous?

“How fancy is this thing?” Derek asks on Monday night. They’re on the couch, as usual, Dex is flipping through TED talks and Derek is laying down with his head in Dex’s lap, reading a book that’s turning out to be increasingly boring and badly written. Dex has one hand tangled in Derek��s hair, absentmindedly scratching his scalp. Derek’s thoughts are drifting.

“Hm?” Dex says.

“This thing on Saturday. How fancy is it? Like, what’s the dress code?”

Dex had told him a few weeks ago that they’d been invited to a function at the university, that they were both free according to their calendars, and that he’d intended to RSVP yes, unless Derek had any objections? Which Derek didn’t. Dex’s had his doctorate for a couple of years now, they’ve attended a fair amount of academic functions and events, Derek is used to them. This is their first one at Columbia, though, so he wants to make sure they follow proper etiquette, to not draw even more attention to the fact that they’re two men. It shouldn’t be an issue, but like, better safe than sorry, in this case.

“Black tie, I guess?” Dex says, frowning down at him. “Why?”

“Yeah, but is it like, strict black tie, don’t even think about wearing pink socks, or is it like, creative black tie?” Derek very much hopes it’s the latter, because Dex looks so good with the forest green tie.

“Babe, I don’t know.”

“Can you check? I just need to know if I need to, like, cut my hair.” He’s growing it out, and it’s already long enough to put in a ponytail.

Dex’s grip on his hair hardens. “Don’t you dare,” a warning in his voice. Derek smirks up at him.

“Chill. I won’t. But just--”

“Yeah, I’ll check.”

Derek is satisfied with that, and returns to his book.

On Friday, the night before, Dex has his D&D night, so Derek does his goodnight sweep of the apartment alone; checks that all the windows are closed and locked, all the lights are turned off. He hesitates in the doorway of the office/library/guest/glorified storage room. Dex is not a neat freak by any means, but he does keep his desk immaculate, so when there’s an envelope on it, it’s pretty hard to miss. It looks fancy.

Derek picks it up, and it’s not until his second read that he even catches it.

Dr. and Mrs. William Poindexter

It’s a mistake, Derek knows it, it’s a sloppy copy paste error because they’ve used the same template a million times, but it is also sort of rude. They’re not even married (yet), so the whole thing just feels awfully presumptuous, and Derek understands why this particular invite hasn’t been tacked to the fridge like usual. They will get married. Probably. There’s just been--Dex’s PhD, Derek’s teaching certificate, Derek trying to properly get control over his anxieties, time has just ... passed. But Derek at least lives with the assumption that they will get married. One day.

He puts the envelope back, goes to bed, and doesn’t say anything about it when Dex gets home and crawls into bed next to him.

Luckily, the dress code is more creative than formal, and Derek would be ashamed of how much he stares at Dex if he wasn’t so incredibly handsome.

“You have to stop,” Dex mutters under his breath the fifth time he catches Derek staring at him in as many minutes.

“Why? I’m your wife, I’m allowed,” Derek says with a smirk. Dex starts rolling his eyes but stops halfway through the motion and stares sharply at Derek.

“What?”

“You left the invitation on your desk,” Derek says and presses a light kiss to Dex’s cheek, a reassuring I’m not mad about this and won’t make a scene gesture.

“I corrected them when I RSVP’d, and they apologized,” Dex says anyway, eyeing Derek sort of warily.

“Good. Oh, can I read the email? Would Shitty be proud of it?”

“Shitty would be embarrassed about how polite I was, but Shitty isn’t in a queer relationship and doing his first six months at Columbia, so I don’t really care.”

Derek grins at him. “I love you,” he says, aware that he’s probably looking like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dex replies, but gives him a kiss. “Come on, I want you to meet the guys I work with,” he says and takes Derek’s hand and starts guiding him through the room.

“You gonna introduce me as your wife?”

“Yes, because that would make perfect sense after talking about my boyfriend for the past two months,” Dex agrees, rolling his eyes again.

“Oh, so you talk about your boyfriend at work, but not your wife? Rude,” Derek says, just as they arrive in front of a group of people who seem to know Dex. They get a couple of raised eyebrows, and Dex glares at him.

“Derek, these are my coworkers. Guys, this is Derek, the idiot I’m dating.”

“Dating, William, really?” Derek scoffs. “We’ve been living together for ten years, and you haven’t taken me out on a date since my birthday, which was in February. That hardly classifies as dating. Hi,” he adds, addressing the group with a smile.

Dex shakes his head in exasperation, but lets it go. Derek squeezes his hand in thanks.

“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Derek mumbles sleepily when they’re seated on the subway home, hours later. He’s a bit buzzed on wine and champagne, but he’s not drunk. He wants to rest his head on Dex’s shoulder but he’s too tall for that to actually be comfortable, so he settles for leaning close, probably preens a little when Dex slides an arm around his waist.

“Wouldn’t mind what?” Dex asks.

“Being your wife,” Derek says. He feels Dex go completely still against him, and when he turns to look at him, all the leftover amusement from the champagne buzz has left him and he’s staring at Derek with a Very Serious face.

“What?” Dex says, and Derek can’t tell if he’s just confused or if he’s also mad. Derek is wide awake now, at least. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t figure out what.

“What?” he settles on, echoing it back.

“I--Derek, are you proposing, on the subway, using the words I wouldn’t mind?”

Derek is about to protest, but then he thinks back, and realizes that he may, in fact, have been proposing. Sort of.

“No?” he tries, anyway. Dex’s only response is a single raised eyebrow. Okay. “But also kind of yes? Sorry?”

Dex sighs, puts his other arm around Derek as well and hugs him, tight. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says.

“That’s not an answer,” Derek observes. He’s not too worried, though. The situation doesn’t feel like a No.

“You technically didn’t ask a question,” Dex says. He lets Derek go and settles back, one arm still around Derek’s waist. “And besides, if I don’t answer, we can pretend this didn’t happen, and you can get a do-over. I refuse to have C chirp me for this for the rest of our lives.”

“C has zero chirping rights when it comes to proposals,” Derek says indignantly. “He didn’t even propose, Cait found the ring in his fucking sock drawer!”

“Do you even have a ring?” Dex counters, which shuts Derek up, but that’s also partly because they’ve reached their stop and need to get off.

Neither of them says anything until they’re up on the street. It’s cold, and Derek forgot his gloves, so he puts one hand in his coat pocket and grabs Dex’s hand with the other.

“Will,” Derek says after a few seconds, which makes Dex stop. Derek is suddenly extremely nervous, even though he knows, with every logical bone in his brain (whatever), that he has nothing to worry about. “When I get a ring, and ask you for real ... are you gonna say yes?”

Dex tugs him so close that their chests are touching. With the hand not holding Derek’s, he cups his cheek and kisses him, sweetly. “Yes, Derek,” he says, softly, privately. “I’m gonna say yes.”

fin~

#dexnursey #nurseydex #dex x nursey #check please fic #omgcp fic #this is sorta flimsy #pretty cute #was very fun to write #tbh i'm still riding the high of being ABLE to write again #fmf fic

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erule · 4 years ago

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Stuck in the snow (with you)

Title: Stuck in the snow (with you)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1300ish

Warnings: mention of alcohol, marriage, low self-esteem, comforting Dean, Dean’s reassuring you that you’re enough, spoilers from 15x20 because the fic takes place after the finale (but things went well).

Summary: Dean proposed to the reader, but he didn’t expect a “No” as an answer. And now they’re stuck in the bunker together because of the snow.

A/N: Hello hello! This fic was purely inspired by Jensen’s last video that he posted on IG in which he was shoveling the snow.

If you wanna be tagged in my Dean Winchester fics, just let me know in my ask box! You can also find me on AO3 and Wattpad. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! Enjoy!

Tags: @akshi8278

Story under the cut!

It’s midnight.

You pour some whiskey in your glass for the fourth or fifth time – you’ve lost count. And yeah, it’s ridiculous, you think. It’s so pointless, being here, drinking alone, in the kitchen of the bunker, just because your dumb boyfriend had the audacity to propose to you earlier. Every person in the world would be happy about a move like that, but you’re not. Why? You don’t even know that! So you just blew away your chance to be happy because you were unsure. No one wonders why you’ve been here drinking alone. You could have been here celebrating with Dean, raising your glasses filled with champagne, but no, you had to ruin everything.

My mind is killing me, you think.

You get up from your seat, only to discover that your head aches and you’re not able to walk properly, so you sit down again. This is so embarassing, even more than that one time Dean caught you half-naked in his room because you were looking for one of his flannels to put on just to smell his scent while he was gone. When he still hadn’t left. Before you two got together. Again, embarassing.

Your conversation with Dean after 2 AM are always the best ones. That’s the time you always find something dumb to do or something stupid to say. At 3 AM, discussions with him just get deeper and meaningful. You remember that the first time you told him you were in love with him, it was half past 3 and you were insanely drunk, but the color of his eyes is still stuck in your memory like a diamond. A green one. Shiny. Beautiful.

You let out a sigh.

The worst part of all of this? Sam and Cas are not here. They had to go on a hunt while Dean was supposed to celebrate this amazing moment with you, because, of course, they thought you would have just said Yes. So now, you’re stuck with Dean, who’s obviously hurt and a lot of snow outside that forces you to stay inside. Being locked up with Lucifer himself would be better than this.

You let yourself rest a bit on the table, your head between your arms like in a tight hug with Dean, while your shoulders freeze. Maybe it’s what you deserve after you let down the only man you’re ever trusted with all of your being.

You wake up confused. There’s definitely a noise that you can’t understand outside the door of the bunker. You get up with a headache, but you’re enough lucid to notice a flannel on your shoulders to protect you from the coldness. You look at your phone: 6 AM. What’s Dean doing up so early? You wear a sweater and then you go outside to see what he’s up to.

«Dean?» you call. He doesn’t answer. «Babe?»

«Right here!» he says.

You find him shoveling the snow, with a black beanie, a sweater, grey sweatpants, some boots he wears just for this particular weather.

«Dean, it’s so cold out here! Come inside and put something else on, please» you say to him, worried.

«You’re not following your own suggestion, sweetheart» he replies, still shoveling the snow. It’s like he can’t stop. Maybe he’s doing it because it helps him not to think.

You just notice that he called you Sweetheart. That’s good, right?

«You’re right» you say, «but please, do it anyway. Maybe it’s just that I care for you more than I care about myself.»

Dean stops. It’s like he got paralyzed. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him that, since it’s something he had done for as long as he can remember, because he has got a good heart and because he had always thought that his life didn’t have a value as the others. You didn’t mean that, of course. You just wanted him to be alright after you broke his heart. You think that maybe this is you being selfish, instead of selfless, because of your sense of guilt.

He looks at you under his lashes and your heart begins to race into your chest.

«You see, that’s the problem» he says, taking a step further to be closer to you. You can feel the heat of his body next to yours and suddenly, you’re not cold anymore. «You and I, we’re the same. God forgive me if for once I did something for myself, but I guess he already punished me enough, didn’t he?» he continues, sarcasm running through his veins. «You’re scared, Y/N. I can tell. Why? Because of the way you look at me. You still look at me the same way you did yesterday and to be honest, I don’t think it’s the way you look at someone you don’t love.»

You swallow so hard, you can swear he just heard the sound of the saliva going down your throat.

«Dean, please, I…»

«Do you remember the first thing you said to me after I came back from that hunt that almost killed me? After Cas and Jack saved me? After you thought I was dead for good?» he asks. There’s something in his voice that you can’t properly catch, like a tone of irony, sadness or maybe desperation. «Because I do very well. Hell, I remember it like it was yesterday!» he exclaims, running his fingers through his hair. He looks exhausted. He has got two dark circles under his eyes and they’re circled in red, like he cried all night. Your heart tightens. «You told me that you would have done everything to get me back. Everything» he says, pointing a finger at you. «And you’ve been long enough with us to know that in this family, when you say something like that, you mean it. That day was exactly three months ago. Did anything change after that? Because now I need to know it, Y/N. No more secrets, no more games, no more tricks. It’s just you and me. If you don’t longer want to be with me, you just have to say it.»

You bit you inner cheek so hard, it bleeds. A sob slips from your lips, while you’re still looking at him. Emerald eyes. Glossy. Beautiful.

«Are you sure that you really want me?» you ask and something flickers into Dean’s eyes. Like a spark of hope. «Because I want the best for you and sometimes I feel like I’m not enough.»

Dean sigs in relief and you don’t understand why. He approaches you and cups your cheeks into his hands, smiling softly.

«Sweetheart, you’re more than enough for me. Not because you’ve got a talented brain or because of your hunting skills, but for the things you do to take care of me. Because you know what you have to say when you want me to relax or to change a bad habit. Because of the way you keep me safe during a hunt. Yeah, I know you look at me when we’re in danger, I do the same for you. But most of all, I love the fact that you know you’re all of these things, but you’re still worried that I don’t know that, but trust me, I know» he says, wiping a tear that just escaped from your eye. «Because I see you, Y/N and you’re extraordinary. So please, be sure that you’re amazing and that I’m well aware for that. And now say that you’ll marry me, because you’re not scared anymore» he says, with a smile.

«You’ll be stuck with me for eternity, Winchester. Are you ready to do that?»

«Damn right, I am!»

You chuckle.

«Alright, then I’ll marry you. Yes! A thousand times, yes!»

That’s when he lifts you up and hug you so tight, you can feel your ribs screaming. It’s the best feeling ever, though.

«Now we have to shovel all the snow in order to go back inside, though» says Dean, causing you to burst out laughing.

The rest of eternity looks really good, now.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester ff #erule's masterlist #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural

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fangirlbase · 3 years ago

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The Howl of the Moon - Remus Lupin

Summary:

After a terrible accident in the battle at the Ministry in 1995, Hermione Granger wins a one-way ticket to the past. Unable to go back to his time, his only chance for survival is to adapt to the late 70s and get on with his life, interfering as little as possible so that the future does not fall apart.

However, everything goes downhill when Remus John Lupine starts to notice too much the new girl who clearly wanted to go unnoticed by Hogwarts.

Warnings: mature

4.The one of the birthday

Anyway, March had arrived!

It was less than three months to the end of school, but it also meant that nearly a month had passed since the Valentine's Day disaster. I mean, disaster in parts and just for a few people, as James and Lily couldn't be happier in their passionate bubble, not to mention the redhead wouldn't give up on the idea that Remus and Granger were a potential couple, they couldn't be still, but if it were up to her the four would soon have a double date! It had taken at least four days for Hermione to speak fearlessly to Remus again, and at least a week for Remus to stop treating Lilly with vengeful indifference, which unfortunately for them had only reinforced the absurd idea of a possible crush even further. in Lily's head.

So the ninth of March had arrived and with it the eighteen years of Remus! Unfortunately, it fell on the first day of the full moon, but luckily they would have a total eclipse that night, which meant…

- PARTY AT THE SHRIEKING SHACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A night just among the marauders, completely free of a curious and violent werewolf breaking free and running across the school grounds. Despite loathing the lunar cycle, Remus Lupine loved eclipses. When an eclipse was in the sky, Moony fell asleep inside him practically disappearing, making the wizard feel completely human - if only for a few hours.

No naughty whispers, no chocolate stuff, and no sharp senses!

Just him, a somewhat shy, scarred teenager who allowed himself to live a little.

Although the party was only later, none of them had shown up for dinner in the great hall that night - which in itself had been reason enough to make Minerva's hair stand on end. Everyone knows that professors love to gossip about students' lives and this was no different at Hogwarts, so of course Professor McGonagall had noticed the closeness between Jean and Remus during tutoring. So with the excuse of asking Miss Granger to try to stop any potential madness the marauders were planning, he called the student into his office as soon as she had finished her dinner:

- Oh, is today his birthday?

- Naturally, that's why I imagine he and his roommates are up to it like a Bunch of Silly Baboons.

Hermione, for her part, couldn't hide her laughter, she still remembered the dance lessons she had taken in fourth year for the Winter Ball where Minerva had made that same criticism of the Gryffindor students. So the girl wondered if the marauders had been the first to hear such endearing adjectives. The older witch seeing the student's laugh also smiled.

- I see that you have become very close to Mr. Lupin, a fine boy, I must say.

- Teacher, I'm not for that much… We are a good pair… Working! I mean, we work well together, in monitoring! - She replied embarrassed, wanting to run away from the subject as she was running from Lilian.

- Honey, don't waste the opportunities that Cupid presents to you. - And suddenly the teacher's eyes became very melancholy and hurt. - I once met a young witch as promising as you. Extremely intelligent and dedicated to studies. She met a guy who shared her same sense of humor, he was the only one who could debate as fiercely and passionately as she… Before the girl knew he was on his knees proposing marriage and she accepted. The teacher's melancholy smile was more than enough for Hermione to know that it wasn't just any student's story she was telling.

- Teacher despite whatever my heart dares to feel. And I don't say he feels anything about the matter of Mr Lupcough cough.” He coughed uncomfortable with everything the teacher was inferring. - Well what I mean is that under the circumstances in which I find myself… The way I came here. I couldn't… I simply wouldn't dare. I mean, it's too risky!

- And what I mean, Jean is that I don't want that story to repeat itself. Like you, she had a thousand and one very plausible and rational reasons to break off the engagement what she did. However, when she realized that as far as the heart, love, or even mere affection and camaraderie were concerned, it was not rationality that should have been heard, it was too late!

Hermione didn't know how to respond, despite all her embarrassment with Lily on Valentine's Day she had never looked at Remus in that way! Yes they were good friends, got along well together and could talk about anything for hours and hours. Of course she found his shy way cute in an adorable way like a needy pet, and she sure enjoyed Lupine's chocolate addiction, but she never looked at him as anything other than a housemate. By Merlin, she often had to remember that he wasn't her teacher but a teenager like her! But love, affection?

Seeing that the student was clearly confused, Minerva turned away from the subject and went back to inquiring about the possible pranks the Gryffindor quartet might be planning. But if even Jean didn't know what they were up to, McGonagall could only hope that Bunch of Silly Baboons Baboons didn't do any damage to her school! Dismissing the student right away, stating that she needed to correct some parchments for the next transfiguration class for sophomores.

Hermione, still shaken by the previous conversation, left, but soon stopped at the door, turning hesitantly towards the teacher.

- Teacher… If I may ask. What happened to your student and the guy she turned down?

- Naturally they went their separate ways. I understand she has taken on an important position in the ministry of magic. And he... found a new someone to love...

- I… I'm sorry teacher.

- Me too, Jean, but it's late now. Go back to the dorm if I won't be forced to give you detention. - The teacher joked, but Hermione couldn't help but hear the melancholy tone in the witch's words.

* * *

Contrary to what Minerva thought, the only damage the quartet would do would be to their own bodies. Come on, it was Lupine's birthday and more than that it was his night of sobriety about the wolf that shared his body! It was obvious that they would get drunk until tomorrow!

The four met on the second floor of the screaming house near eight-thirty at night, with them having prepared a nice little party for their werewolf friend: lots of fire whiskey, a chocolate cake, butterbeer, thousands of sweets from Fingers of Honey not to mention a mini feast smuggled straight from the kitchen of Hogwarts, after all the house elves adored James and Sirius. And of course a small bottle of water - since Peter liked to hydrate between a glass and another - the only sensible one in the group that night. All three were moved by the birthday boy's happiness, noticing how the daily weight had disappeared from Remus' back, being ridiculously lighter.

- And what are we waiting for? - With that sentence James started the night's celebrations.

Drinks over there, cakes over here when they saw it, it was past ten at night and everyone was irrevocably drunk. It had been at least six glasses of whiskey for Sirius, with Remus finishing up his fifth - which was already more than a little more than ideas after three bottles of butterbeer.

- Does Audrey know the reason for her disappearance, Peter? - James asked as he chewed on a chicken leg.

- Just I was celebrating the birthday of one of you.

Audrey Flint was the Slytherin who had sent Peter the little Valentine's card, and who had surprisingly been dating her ever since.

- Remus, even Peter has a girlfriend. When are you going to get one? You know I don't care about gender as long as he or she knows that marauders are their priority! - Sirius asked, nudging the werewolf beside him.

"Lily said it won't be long before he and Granger assume something." - James delivered his girlfriend.

- That's not it! Jean and I are just... friends? - Remus asked embarrassed, but at the mention of Jean rather than the clear questioning of his partner preferences. The truth is, Lupine didn't know if he was in the position of Granger's friends or colleagues at that point in the championship. The relationship was weird since Valentine's Day, at times it seemed that nothing had changed while at others Moony was a real busybody!

- If even that you know what they are. It's definitely lost!

- If they're not friends they can definitely be something else. - Peter nudged, liking the way Remus was starting to turn red and bewildered.

"The way you treated Lily after Valentine's Day just shows how much you're into her, Remus." - James insisted.

- No, no, NO! - Remus managed to deny it. - You got it all wrong! Jean and I would never work, you know I can't….

- I bet you're denying it like that because you don't know how to kiss. - Peter threw more wood into the fire.

- Of course I know how to kiss! - Remus was insulted.

That was partly true, as she'd had her first kiss two years earlier, also in an eclipse, when she'd allowed herself to experience a kiss that night. It had been at a Gryffindor party and had been no more than a smacking of lips, and since then he'd never come close to anyone else's mouth.

- A little kiss does not count as knowing how to kiss! - Sirius accused his friend, turning to him.

- And how do you expect me to learn then?! You know I don't…

Sirius didn't let his colleague finish, with a roguish grin he pulled Remus' neck towards him.

- Like this. - Whispered in his friend's ear, having fun when he saw the same shiver, approaching his body more and more.

In a second their lips were joined, with Black initiating an agitated kiss. He knew his friend had no experience, he had the vague memory in his drunken memory of Lupin describing how shameful and awkward that peck had been two years ago - so it had started slowly, but not having much patience and being clearly upset, he deepened the kiss without blinking. Then he opened his mouth hungrily, forcing his tongue against Remus' mouth, who surprisingly had given way and not only that, but was also trying to match his roommate's reckless rhythm.

After all, if it was in the rain, it was to get wet!

Mimicking Sirius' movements, Remus also held the brunet's neck possessively, intensifying the movements of his lips - adrenaline rushing through him. Their tongues tangled and wrestled and caressed, all to the sound of Peter's laughter and the shocked spit of James who had just put another glass of whiskey in his mouth when his friends began kissing furiously. It wasn't his fault he got scared and spit it all out at Peter!

But just as slowly as it started, the kiss ended.

- See if you learn and do it right with Granger. Sirius fixed his hair. - And if she doesn't want to, I'll always be here for you, monny! - He stated provocatively as he turned another glass.

- At least she won't have a beard itching. - Remus implied joining in the joke. - Can you tell me how you're still alone?

- There is no woman for me at Hogwarts. - Sirius declared, just like Xuxa Meneghel, where there were no men for her in Brazil.

* * *

All marauders were completely rotten, miserable, destroyed and finished.

All but Peter, who wisely interspersed the whiskey with generous doses of water, being the one who drank the least at the party - having a preference for chocolate cake. Sirius was down on the infirmary (he had the greatest resistance to alcohol, but even he overreacted); James was clinging to the toilet in Gryffindor, Peter was cheerful and bouncy with his Audrey, while Remus exploded with a headache. His eyes were sunken, his head seemed to be being poked by five drills as runaway ambulances pulled up to his ear - all with Moony barking furiously at being repelled last night by the "unnatural and evil" eclipse (words of the Wolf).

At least her swollen system from Moony's presence had minimized the seasickness effects, but the migraine remained like a sledgehammer on an anvil.

A bad mood had irrevocably seized Lupin. From the first dawn of the day Remus was IM-PRA-TI-Cable, being almost the human and rabid version of Moony, threatening to stupefy the next one who made noise in front of him. At least in the morning, since after lunch the sobriety potions began to take effect, turning him once again into a Pomeranian lulu and no longer a rabid pinscher.

At least that afternoon he could rest peacefully, as no one even went to the prefects! His plan was a quiet, undisturbed nap!

"You know, you might as well practice those licks with Jean, instead of pretending to be lazy" - Moony spoke like someone who didn't want anything when they were alone, going to the prefect.

- Licks…? - Remus was confused.

But Moony was prepared for that, immediately projecting memories of the night before - causing Remus to trip over his own feet at the sight and feel of Sirius' mouth and beard against his face.

THEY HAD DONE WHAT?!

“Nothing against what you prefer, but I think Jean more…. intriguing"

- Remus? Is everything OK? - Hermione asked after noticing the pale state that the ex-teacher arrived in the transfiguration room.

And it was when Remus' eyes focused on the girl that his face went up in flames, still moved by Moony's suggestion. THAT MEDDING WOLF!

"Just slightly drunk…" He replied, crawling to his seat, sitting down comfortably while putting his backpack as a pillow.

- Drunk?! I don't think Minerva was counting on it! - She laughed.

- Are you her new spy, Jean? Before it was Lily who was our probation officer. Befriended me just to watch over James and Sirius? - Remus joked, settling into his wallet.

- I don't know if that was her real intention, but it felt like it to me last night when she called me in her office to talk about... How did she say? Ah yes, "silly baboons babbling in a pack"!.

- There is! Professor Minerva has always been the most creative at Hogwarts! - The witcher laughed, soon regretting it when his head began to throb again and he moaned in discontent.

- What made you drunk so far?

- I had a birthday.

- Congratulations? Hermione asked, undecided by the deplorable state of the boy beside her.

He nodded gratefully, then tucked his head back into his backpack.

- Thanks, but would you mind holding the butts without me today? I put up with all day waiting for that nap.

Hermione just nodded, patting her light brown hair in congratulation, not seeing Moony squirm happily in the mind of Remus, a real needy puppy.

However, just that day, a living being appeared at the monitor in search of clearing up his doubts about the last transfiguration class of the seventh year, regretting it the moment he saw who was the monitor of his class.

Severus Snape would not stoop to the point of asking one of the marauders what things, no matter how trivial! Even though the rascal in question was almost drooling over his backpack by now.

- Can I help you? Hermione asked, noticing Snape's intention to turn around and leave.

- Do you know the content of the seventh year or just this wolf project? - Asked mockingly as he indicated with his chin the Gryffindor passed out.

- You'd be surprised what I know. - Retorted defiantly. She had almost changed her mind when Severus implied knowing that Remus was a wolf, but quickly remembered that he had almost died because of Remus, or rather because of Sirius who played a more than unfortunate prank on the Slytherin. His challenge did not find deaf ears.

Threat, warning, knowledge and... flirting? The girl's challenge reached every possible sense, although Severus very much doubted the latter.

Well, Snape had a mirror in the bedroom, and even if he didn't, he was reminded of his questionable appearance all the time. Jean might have publicly rejected Sirius Black, but he would never look at someone like him, so there was no chance of it being a lame excuse to kiss in the nearest broom closet - although the idea was not repulsive to him, and well he even thought it was Very pretty.

Hermione thought he must be very desperate to actually accept her help, after all she was a year younger, muggleborn (not that he knew of) and Gryffindor. She actually thought he would refuse her help because she was a Gryffindor, but here he was snorting discontent as he sat at a desk and indicated the chair across from him an unquestionable invitation.

At the end of it all Snape had been impressed by how smart the girl was. He suspected even more than that drooling Siberian husky snoring a few wallets away. But Severus' joy was short-lived, as in the middle of the explanation another individual immensely more undesirable than the slime project sprang up in the classroom.

- HEY, SNOTTY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING NEAR HER?! - Sirius forgot his hangover to make trouble in defense of the girl one of his best friends was clearly interested in, waking Remus in the process.

- I don't see your name on it, Black! Snape shot back, making Hermione arch an eyebrow. Since when has she become a reason for egos?

Indifferent on the outside, but laughing on the inside, Hermione allowed herself to agree that that tirade had been good, very good. Maybe even enough to forget one or two reprimands Snape had given him in the future.

Was Sirius this annoying always? If she ever made it back, she wouldn't stop complaining to Harry about her friend's godfather's impossible behavior at school.

- What makes you think you can come here, snotty?! Get closer to us….

- As far as I know, here is a classroom at Hogwarts, in pre-service time for the transfiguration subject.

- If you have any doubts, ask someone of your level. - Sneered.

Hermione was terribly offended. He had called her stupid, for being a year younger! But she soon realized that it would make more sense that Sirius was referring to the fact that it wasn't a death eater project. Or something like this?

- I would, but the creature in question is sleeping during working hours. Should I report this slip to Professor McGonagall?

Sirius even managed to pull out his wand and cast a spell, but Hermione was quicker and threw a stream of water at him.

- Unpleasant. I hate the smell of wet dogs. - Snape teased once more.

- ENOUGH! - He interfered by talking to both of them. - What are you doing here, Black?

- Is it forbidden to visit my friends now?!

- That's when he threatens another student!

- You mean you agree that you are my friend! - He wasted no time, giving a wink being promptly responded with another jet of water.

- If you do not mind? - She said turning to Severus who kept his victorious smile in front of the soaked Gryffindor. - Would you like us to finish our monitoring elsewhere? Hermione asked Snape, who readily agreed, following the short-haired girl to the library. Where she had a private class in the subject, at least as far as Jean knew, after all she was a year younger, as much as she knew a lot about seventh grade content, that wasn't all. Surprisingly the Slytherin completed the gaps without any mockery or contempt for her making the time together really enjoyable.

Confused, Remus watched the girl depart with the stateroom Slytherin, confused and somewhat irritated with Sirius for making her leave.

- I think it's better you do it right with her! - Sirius warned him. - Or sooner or later she may fall for that venomous snake's tricks! Or better yet, in my charms! - He joked.

- Padfoot, she is more likely to date Snape than to date you, I would say until she marries him and has five children and eighteen cats. - Remus chuckled, relieved the kiss between them hadn't been a big deal.

Just brother's things, you know!

- Since you are missing the magnificent chance to be with me, I say with propriety, from someone who has a lot of experience, that you have more chances than him.

- Chances of what? She's just a friend, coworker at best. Besides, she's afraid of canines.

- Well… that's bad for both of us, Moony. - Sirius spoke to the werewolf, who just sighed in Remus' mind.

“I wish I were a fish…”

#remione #remus lupin #sirius x remus #sirius x remus x hermione #sirius black #Hermione Granger #travel time #time turner #back in time #wolfstar

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years ago

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//nine years time. kuroo tetsurou//

Request: Hello can you write royal kuroo promising y/n when he comes back they will both marry. But it has been 9 years and y/n married someone else to finish their duty as a royal. Then a month later kuroo comes back.

Warnings: none???

Word Count: 2.2K

Notes: hi yes i love you. please drink lots of water, okay?

“I won’t be long, I promise. A year at the most and then,” he raised your hand up towards his lips, placing a lingering kiss against the skin of your knuckles before continuing, “we can finally get married, just like we’ve always wanted.”

The war had been waging for far too long, but with the kingdom’s final move on the horizons, it was only a matter of time before this would all be settled and an air of peace would once again fall over your home. You should’ve been happy, ecstatic even, that everything would go back to how it used to be before this entire conflict started, but the young man in front of you, that you had been so captivated by from the first time that you met, was about to leave to stand with his military. After all, some member of the royal family had to be present to negotiate the peace treaty and with his father becoming too old and frail to make the journey, it only made sense that the prince should take his place.

But, the goodbyes and the warm feeling of Tetsurou’s hand engulfing yours nearly brought tears to your eyes. He was still going away to war and that title of “prince” just added a bigger target to his back. And even if it was only going to be for a year, those days would seem like an eternity as you waited for his letters and counted the weeks to his return.

“You’ll wait for me?” Tetsurou asked, raising his hand to lay it gently against your cheek.

“I’ll wait as long as I must to be with you, my prince.”

But, that first year had ended with a letter announcing that things had not gone to plan. They would be staging a siege to cut off the supply lines of the enemy, but there was no telling how long they would be there, waiting for a surrender.

Hopefully they will see that their efforts are futile and I will be able to return to you quickly. I miss you more with every passing day and I want nothing more to have you in my arms once again.

Take care, my love, and I will see you soon.

K. Tetsurou

By the end of the second year, the letters had slowed. Monthly letters now came at a snail’s pace of one every few months. And by the third year, they had stopped all together. No matter how many letters that you penned to your prince so far away, there was never anything in return. It was only after the fourth year that you stopped trying to reach him, giving up and letting the worst possible outcome consume you.

It was really the only logical outcome that your brain could come up with. If he was still alive, he would’ve written to you. He wouldn’t have just ignored all of your letters. He would’ve gotten in touch with you somehow. The loss of the kingdom’s prince, your first and only love, was the only explanation. And it tore you to pieces. He was meant to come back to you, officially make you his. Tetsurou was supposed to meet you in town when he rode back in with the rest of the troops and give you the kiss that you had been waiting so long for. But, there was none of that and there never would be any of that, because he was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

The fifth year without him was the worst. You found yourself struggling to carry out your day to day tasks, unable to see the purpose in carrying on if he wasn’t able to be there to give you tender kisses on your temple at the end of the day and hold you tightly within his arms. There would be days when you would see something that was so distinctly Tetsurou that you would quickly turn around and hastily walk in the opposite direction so that no one could see the way your eyes glistened with tears that wished to fall. You would lie awake and read his final letter to you over and over again, skimming your fingers across his name as if that would be enough to bring him back to you. You would anxiously wait for the mail every single day in the off chance that maybe, just maybe, this would be the day in which a letter would come announcing his return. But there was never anything apart from the occasional invitation to a ball or a letter from a friend that only brought sorrow to your heart when you realized that it wasn’t the letter that you were hoping for.

But, it was year six when you met him. The man with the bright smile and the shining eyes. The man with the most cheery laugh that you had ever heard. He had spun you around the ballroom for what seemed like hours, telling you stories about his travels, cracking jokes in an effort to see you smile all over again. Yes, Bokuto Koutarou had made you feel something that had been void from your life since the letters stopped coming. The way that he gripped onto your hands in excitement as he asked you for yet another dance had your heart fluttering as you nodded your head. You were barely able to get a yes out before he was dragging you back out towards the center of the dance floor, giving you a low bow as the music began.

In that sixth year, he had made you happier than you had been in a very long time. There wasn’t a moment of sadness when he was there to brighten your day, his smile more contagious than the plague, and a heart that had the capability of producing such raw and honest emotions. He was so intoxicating that you found yourself thinking of the prince that had originally stolen your heart far less than usual. Whether you were awake or asleep, Bokuto consumed your thoughts, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain one bit.

Because in the seventh year, when he was given your parents’ blessing and he asked for your hand in marriage, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying yes, thoughts of finally being able to marry a man that you loved so wholly bringing a smile so wide that it pained your cheeks. But, it was also in that year that you found yourself sitting down at your desk in front of a piece of parchment, a quill sitting next to a bottle of ink. In year seven, you drafted your final letter to Kuroo Tetsurou, a goodbye to set your mind at ease, to be able to guiltlessly move forward with your life.

Tetsurou,

I hope that this letter finds you well. It has been much too long since I have last had the pleasure of hearing from you. Perhaps the war has needed your full attention over these past few years and, if that is the case, then I cannot blame you for not taking the time to write to me. But, there is something that I wish to tell you.

Seven years ago, I made a promise to you. Do you remember that? I promised that I would wait as long as I must to be with you, to finally be able to marry you. But, I am afraid that today I have broken that promise to you for I have accepted a marriage proposal from another man, one that makes me as happy as you did. He brings me a feeling of happiness that I only ever felt with you.

My prince, I waited as long as I could. But, the silence had worn down on me to the point that it was unbearable. I had waited in sorrow for a letter that never came and when I needed a light the most, he was there, shining brighter than any star in the galaxy. I hope that you will forgive me and I wish you all of the best in your future.

Best,

Y/N

And you had folded up a letter with the name of a man who would never read it, but still, when the day broke the horizon the next morning, you met the postman at the door, a piece of folded parchment in your hand, a letter that would fall on deaf ears.

It wasn’t until the eighth year after Tetsurou’s leave that you took a new last name. You found happiness in Koutarou, a sense of peace that only he could offer. His joyful laughter echoed through the walls of his manor as he lifted you from the ground, spinning the both of you around and around until he was sure that he would collapse as the room continued to spin even after he was sure that his feet had stopped. But, he couldn’t have been happier. Being here, in a home that had felt so lonely for a long time, now with someone that he loved more than anything in the world, Bokuto wasn’t sure that there was anything that could’ve made his life better.

It was also in that eighth year that Bokuto realized that there was one thing that could make his world even brighter and it came in the form of a small bump that you carried with you everywhere you went. His little bump. A child that unified you better than any wedding band or string of vows ever could. Everytime that he would look at you with your growing stomach, he could feel his heart swell, a new sense of pride filling his chest at the idea of becoming a father to his beautiful little baby.

In year nine, the two of you became parents to a precious baby girl that had Koutarou wrapped around her finger from the very minute she was born. With his wide golden eyes and silver locks, she was more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. It was as if after all of your years of turmoil, the gods were blessing you with the perfect life that you had always envisioned, but a different man was by your side rather than the one that you had always pictured as the father of your children, your loving husband. Yet, despite your life not turning out exactly how you had planned, there was nothing that you wanted to change. You were finally happy and at peace with losing your first love.

But a letter had arrived in the mail. One that announced that the war had finally drawn to a close and that the troops would be arriving home the following week.

“It would be nice to go. We could see the soldiers back and then we can go visit the shops downtown, stop for lunch, and do whatever else you’d like for the rest of the day,” Koutarou suggested, laying the letter down on the dining table. “But, we obviously don’t have to go! If it may upset you, then maybe we shouldn’t,” he added quickly.”

“Koutarou, please. You have nothing to worry about. I’ve come to terms with his death a long time ago. I think a day in town would be perfect.” You smiled warmly, laying your hand over his, letting him lace his fingers with yours.

There were very few things that you were expecting after nine years, but the look on Kuroo Tetsurou’s face when he laid eyes on you that day, the returning troops at his back, was unforgettable. There had been an all too familiar sense of longing in his expression when he had initially recognized your form, but when his brain registered the man who had a protective arm wrapped around you and the small bundle of blankets in your arms, the adoration had fallen from his eyes only to be replaced by a sad look in his eyes, one unlike something you had ever seen cross his face. The prince that you had fallen in love with all of those years ago, now looked like he had aged 20 years, whether it be from the stress of war or from the realization that his one love had continued moving forward in their life, even he wasn’t sure.

Yet, despite everything in his body telling him no, Tetsurou dismounted from his horse, long legs carrying him easily over the distance that kept you from him. It was in that ninth year that Kuroo Tetsurou was careless and crashed his lips against your own, a desire to pull you closer to him and finally feel your body against his that had been stopped by a baby. A baby that started crying when Tetsurou’s body bumped against it. A cry that snapped him back to reality and had him pulling away from you. Remembering that the child in your arms was not his. Remembering that after nine long years, you were no longer his.

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