When Hannah Gadsby said "I dont want my story to be defined by anger" and when she said "I am tired" and when she said "there is nothing stronger than a broken women who has rebuilt herself" and when she said "where are the quiet gays supposed to go?" and when she said "you learn from the part you focus on" and when she said "you internalize that hatred and you learn to hate yourself"
....I felt that.
murder apologist?? all you goro likers are weird. i was going to cut you some slack since you probably don't know yet but i saw your tags and that is weird. you're so messed up
you heard it here first folks ❤️ anon thinks i am messed up
Witcher Netflix fans… we need to chat.
This… This is not okay. I’m so tired of this.
I don’t care if you hate Jaskier/Dandelion - that’s your business and no one says you have to like him. But insulting Joey - who is a real human being with very real feelings - is crossing the line on so many different levels. I don’t care how much you hate the character, you do NOT bring their actor into it and start making these kinds of remarks.
Thankfully Joey tends to not be terribly active on social media and only posts to promote his band or a project (like The Witcher). He’s stated he doesn’t use social media that often as well for a reason. And, again thankfully, he was not tagged in any of these comments or even in the original posts being quoted, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t necessarily see it.
Except this one. This was a direct quote retweet of his reply to Lauren Hissrich posting the joke Halloween poster. There’s more of a chance he saw that one of course.
I really hope for his sake that he has not actually seen any of these things - but we don’t know if he has or not. There is always the chance that he’s seen what supposed fans are saying, and how do you think that’s going to make him feel? Given how much he loves the role and has spoken about how perfect this role is, even his sister told him that, seeing people say this kind of stuff is bound to make him feel awful.
There’s a reason he doesn’t really do social media, a reason why he doesn’t really stop to take photos with fans at premieres (I’ve seen maybe one picture of him taking a selfie with someone but not the actual selfie itself), a reason why he tends to keep to himself despite being incredibly polite and humble when he does show up to events or speaks to people. I’m not a psychiatrist or doctor, I’m just a fan of him and his work as a musician and actor, but it wouldn’t shock me if he had some social anxiety and that being thrust into a huge spotlight like he is on The Witcher wasn’t helping. Apparently at the first Witcher premiere, he had to go and play a piano to calm down because it was crazy with the cameras/photos/fans. He even wrote a song about being socially anxious which makes me think he experiences it at least somewhat! So if he’s seen even one or two of these, it wouldn’t shock me if it fucking hurt or upset him.
Joey has done absolutely nothing to deserve people mocking his appearance, performance, voice, or anything else. Nothing. I know this is mainly twitter where I see it, but I’m sure if I dug hard enough I’d find it floating about here too (which I’m not going to do because I cannot be assed to give those people attention). If for whatever reason you dislike Joey, then you know what? Fine. You can’t like everyone, and I’m not expecting everyone in the world to like him because that would be impossible. But stop doing this - stop saying he’s ugly, untalented etc.
These people mostly seem to be Lodge or Yen fans, which is bizarre to me because Anya has said quite recently (at the premiere I believe) that she loves Joey and that Yen and Jaskier have more scenes together this season. And I highly doubt that any of the other cast - Henry, Freya - would appreciate their fans insulting and harassing a friend and co-worker of theirs who they seem to get on with well.
Also, just a side note, and this is very much my personal opinion more than anything… He is NOT ugly?!? At all?! Or untalented?!? Literally any of us who’ve heard not only Toss a Coin but also anything by The Amazing Devil knows that this man is talented as fck… that’s just it, he’s unfairly multi-talented! He not only performs in the band, he also writes music, plays MULTIPLE instruments, he acts…
^ He is NOT ugly by any stretch of the imagination! If you don’t personally think he’s attractive, then fine! We all have different tastes! But just because you don’t find him attractive personally, that doesn’t mean he’s ugly! ^
maybe i do | kth. I
➵ summary : maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.
↳ part of the high-class series!
➵ pairing : taehyung x reader
➵ genre : arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst
➵ rating : 18+
➵ word count : 11k
➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning?
➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33
chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”
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“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.”
“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.”
“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.”
“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.”
“And why is that?”
“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.”
“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.”
“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”
“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”
“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”
“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”
“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”
“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”
“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.”
“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!”
“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”
“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.”
“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”
“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”
“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”
“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”
“Dad, I don’t know-”
“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”
And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across.
And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.
You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.
And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.
If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him.
He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.
It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.
It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.
Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now.
It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face.
You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.
You zeroed your vision in more.
Is that a cut on his finger?
“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.”
“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”
“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?”
“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?”
Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move.
It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book.
He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg.
Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?
All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time.
‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’
That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her?
‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.
That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.
He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.
Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment.
And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.
But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.
Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.
Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct.
You just seemed different.
“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”
“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!”
“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?”
“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!”
Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.
“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”
“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?”
You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air.
There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.
“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.
“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away.
“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied.
A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him.
Taehyung didn’t miss that at all.
“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?”
You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.
“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”
“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped.
“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated.
“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet.
Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.
Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life.
Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed.
“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.
“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage.
“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.
After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.
He has really big hands.
“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.
Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.
He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.
He scoffed to himself.
‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’
It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.
It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.
That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.
You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.
You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.
You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life.
You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man?
Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating.
These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall.
It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.
You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.
The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.
Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.
How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.
It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general.
You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.
Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.
Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.
And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his.
So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.
You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.
‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.
There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.
“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.”
Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly.
“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”
You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”
“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.
You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you.
You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”
“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.
“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”
“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.
“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”
“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”
You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”
“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”
You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.
You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.
What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.
Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.
“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”
“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”
“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.
“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go.
You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.
You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together.
You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back.
“Looking for me?”
You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.”
“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.
“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?”
Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”
“It’s not real, though.”
“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.”
He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest.
Why was his voice so deep?
You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.
You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands.
It was kinda cute.
You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized.
“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.
“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.
“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.
Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now?
“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake.
“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.
You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct.
Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’.
Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest.
You feel him tense underneath you.
“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory.
“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation.
“Yes, so you do remember!”
“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding.
“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around.
“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-
Oh God, not him.
Anything but him.
You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.
You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was?
You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be.
Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear?
He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?
Were you in love with him or something?
The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name.
“Kiseok-ah! Come here!”
You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.
Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking.
“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem.
“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering.
He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead.
But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable.
Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself.
What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.
So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong.
“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold.
“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong.
Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep.
“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.”
“How’ve you been?”
“Better than ever. You?”
“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”
“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”
Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.
“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation.
“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.
You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively.
You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately.
“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you.
Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle.
Dear God, you took your time with this one.
You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream.
Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight.
“Who the fuck was that?”
“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for.
“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips.
Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore?
Why were there so many intricate pieces to you?
“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.”
Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours.
His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief.
He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.
Your eyes widened in complete surprise.
“So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face.
You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock.
“Says the one who was thinking about me.”
“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you.
“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”
“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you.
“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?”
“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.
You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall.
Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve.
How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?
What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband.
It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.
The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.
Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests.
It was the day of the wedding.
You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today.
Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.
The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony.
And none of it was your real choice.
Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite.
This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another.
Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own.
It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage.
But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself.
These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.
You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event.
Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.
It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept.
You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.
While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye.
You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself.
You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate.
That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips.
To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy.
He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate.
He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.
He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life.
Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.
Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love.
Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering.
Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.
Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.
Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you.
Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of.
The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from.
So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.
He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing.
“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light.
Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.
He at least owed you that.
You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life.
Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection.
You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.
Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..
Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.
You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.
And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.
Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue.
These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.
Especially since your last partner.
It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner.
Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested.
To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful.
You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official.
But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally.
And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.
But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play.
You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.
It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so.
It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again.
He towered over you, and it made you more nervous.
You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains.
You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think.
But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe.
What if Taehyung really was no different?
It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one.
He could simply not want you, but is forced to.
You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move.
You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either.
Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him.
You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.
And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner.
“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room.
Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.
Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.
He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed.
Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him.
“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up.
You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?”
“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting.
“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions.
“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.”
You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so.
It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush.
“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed.
This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight.
His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look.
His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting.
His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.
“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”
You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.
Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.
“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly.
You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”
“Shitty, as in...?”
“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.
Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution.
“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”
“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”
“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar.
“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things.
“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.
You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself.
The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked?
Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.
He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute.
Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?
Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.
Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.
You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss.
Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange.
How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it.
He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.
“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you.
You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve.
You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened.
You took a deep breath.
Maybe Taehyung is different after all.
prev. ↞ || ↠ next || masterlist
A Half-naked Nurse and Wrong Ideas.
Bucky x Reader with fever.
Thank you @daredarling for the “you’ve gotten sick and Bucky takes care of you” idea.
You should’ve known better than to race Sam under a thunderstorm last night. Waking up the next morning, you had a massive headache, your muscles felt sore, and you were shivering.
“Miss Y/N, Mr. Barnes says you’re half an hour late in training.” FRIDAY’s voice spoke, making you groan and bring your comforters above you.
“Tell him to fuck off.” you muffled under the sheets.
Barnes… He has been nothing but a pain in the ass to you. To this day, you don’t know what you’ve done for him to dislike you this much. And as if his snarky comments and glares thrown your way wasn’t enough, Steve actually paired you both for missions and trainings.
If he wasn’t so handsome you would’ve cut him already. If Steve allowed you.
Loud bangs hit your door outside. “Y/L/N you’re already 30 minutes late! That’s 5 laps extra for you!” You could hear the irritation lacing his voice.
Maybe if you ignore him long enough, the pest would go away.
“I know you’re in there!” He followed up after you ignored him.
Sighing in annoyance, you got up, with the blankets still wrapped around you, and weakly waddled your way to your door, not bothering to open up your curtains. Opening the door, A frowning Bucky was looking down on you. If you weren’t feeling so shitty, you would’ve snickered at his expression.
“Barnes why are you so obsessed with me?” your cracked voice barely managed to finish asking.
He was observing you from head to toe, noting how pale you are, and shivering under a huge comforter despite that your AC was off.
“You’re stupid.” That was the first thing that came out of his mouth.
“Well, you’re not that sma-”
“Will you shut up and go back to bed? You look like you’re about to drop dead any second now.” He interrupted you, his face still stern with no emotion.
Rolling your eyes, you turned back and weakly made your way back over to bed, pausing to groan as you remembered you forgot to close the door.
“If you’re still there, could you please close the door.” it almost pained you to even be so polite to him but you blame it to being sick.
Finally managing to lie back down, you stared up the ceiling when you heard the door finally shut gently. Sighing, you were about to let sleep take over you when something caught the corner of your eye.
Bucky was by the closed door, taking his shirt off over his head. You let out a shriek. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?!”
“You’re sick.” he replied nonchalantly, while kicking off his shoes, leaving him in his sweatpants and socks.
“And taking off your clothes is supposed to make me feel better?!” you were trying to support yourself with your elbow, facing his way. “And I meant that you close the door before leaving.”
“I don’t want to die of heat while taking care of you.” he replied in a duh tone before entering your bathroom to fetch some warm water in a basin.
You were still trying to process what he was getting at when he finally went back out, now basin with steaming water in hand.
“You got a clean towelette I can use?” has asked as he placed the basin on the foot of your bed.
“Yeah, it’s by the third dra- what the hell are you doing again?” you caught yourself as he was opening your drawers. “Because if you’re trying to kill me, doing it while I’m defenseless is just beneath you.”
“Didn’t think your IQ could get any lower but you’re sick so I’ll let this pass.” He rolled his eyes before soaking the cloth on the water. “I’m nursing you. Now lay flat and still so the cloth won’t fall off that forehead of yours.” he instructed, again sounding so casual.
You followed his orders before realizing that this whole ordeal was still very weird. “I’m sorry, I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”
He went by your head and placed the cloth on your forehead, making you sigh at the warmth it brought your chilling form. “Steve will have my head if he finds out I knew you’re sick and let you die.”
You stared at him deadpan.
“And partners are supposed to be taking care of each other.” he muttered, making the side of your mouth twitch.
“If you tell anyone I said that I’ll kill you.” he lightly threatened when he noticed your mouth twitch.
“Fair enough. And I should probably tell you that I’m prone to get mentally confused when I have fevers which is a normal symptom, but just letting you know in case I start saying something nice.” you chuckled.
He went over your mini fridge and opened a bottle of water to drink.
You look at him, noticing that he was starting to sweat a lot from the heat. His skin was glistening making you mentally kick yourself from staring.
“You got underwear?” you found yourself asking, making him choke on his drink.
“I-I’m just saying i-if you’re that hot, you can just take off your sweatpants and I won’t mind.”
“You’re saying I’m hot?” he chuckled, having fun twisting your words, making you flush. “Hey, color’s back on your face. Maybe I should get you all flustered more.” he teased further.
“Shut up Barnes, I meant that the room’s too hot for you because the AC is off. You’re sweating like a pig.”
“Save the excuses, Y/N. You won’t mind if I’ll just be in my boxers?” he smirked at you as he took his socks off and started working on untying the strings of his sweats.
“Puh-lease, Barnes, it may come as a shock to you, but I’ve seen enough men in boxers. You’re not that…”
You trailed off what you were going to say when you noticed that this was a different kind of boxers. Why were they so tight?
You thought he meant boxer shorts, not boxer briefs. Dammit.
“I’m not that…?” He asked.
“I forgot. Fever brain.” You shrugged, diverting your eyes away from him. “Anyway, why are you so nice to me? You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” He contradicts, placing his hands on his hips.
“Uh, yeah you do.” you paused to let out a cough. “You always make fun of me or provoke me in front of everyone else.”
“And how do I treat you when we’re alone, especially in missions?” he raised his brows at you, expecting that you’ll put two and two together.
“A lot nicer actually.” You muttered.
“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that the team keeps insisting I have a crush on you.” he scratched the back of his head.
“That’s ridiculous. Why would they even think that?” you chuckled.
“It’s Sam’s fault. He tricked me.”
“He was being all hypothetical, saying what if I was only allowed to date someone from the team and who would I choose. And I uh… may have said I’d choose you. And everyone else heard.” He muttered the last part, embarrassed.
It was your turn to smirk at him. “And why me?”
“Stop that. You look like a smirking corpse.” he snapped at you defensively and cleared his throat. “It’s just that you were actually really nice to me when we met. Didn’t feel like you were masking apprehensiveness like everybody did when I first got here.”
“Sounds like you have a crush on me.” you had the courage to tease him, seeing how flustered he got from telling the story.
“This is not how you treat your nurse, Y/N.”
“Yeah, a nurse in his underwear. Very ethical. And I’m not your supervisor, but I think brooding is not advisable.”
“And now as your nurse, I would advise you to quit talking and get some sleep.” he playfully glared at you. “I’ll be by the chair to constantly check on your temperature and replace the cloth on your forehead.”
“I really appreciate what you’re doing, Barnes. I’m starting to think the team’s right.”
“Ma’am flirting with patients and vice versa is frowned upon. Now sleep.”
While you were finally snoozing for over an hour, gentle knocks were heard on your door.
Standing up from his chair, Bucky quickly made his way over the door to prevent more knocks from disturbing your sleep, forgetting that he was still only in his boxer briefs.
Opening it slowly, he was met with three pairs of wide eyes belonging to Steve, Sam, and Nat.
“Hey you guys, could you keep it down? Y/N is getting some rest.”
“Uhuh… I bet she needs it.” Sam replied slowly, still wide-eyed, noting how Bucky’s slightly sweaty.
“So… when did this happen?” It was Steve’s turn to speak up.
“Oh, just this morning. She was running late and I came here with the intention of punishing her for it but I ended up taking care of her.” He explained in a low voice, still oblivious to how their teammates were getting a totally different idea.
“Woah.” Nat muttered under her breath.
“Yeah, I guess her muscles are all sore because she was moving so weakly, and her voice is all hoarse now when she talks, and -”
“Look we’re happy for you, but TMI, Buck! TMI.” Steve cut him off and the three of them scrambled away from your room, with Sam muttering he didn’t need the unwelcomed visuals, and Nat screaming for Wanda.
Now left alone and confused by the doorway, he was trying to figure out why they reacted that way when it finally clicked.
“Fuck.” he whisper-yelled, knowing that the teasing was about to get worse.
Permanent tag list: @lizzarooni
summary : dad!levi decorating the Christmas tree with his kids <3
my inspiration for this disappeared as soon as i started writing so excuse me for this fic. not proofread.
Levi used to hate Christmas. He hated all the festivities, how everyone looked so pleased and happy, and he hated the envy he felt toward them. But now,now he had a family to celebrate with,and his opinion on this fest had drastically changed.
But that didn’t mean he liked everything about it. He particularly disliked having to clean the floor of the used wrapping papers after the gifts' opening,all the dishes that had to be done...and the worst thing was the tree,that thing that used way too many space and dirtied the floor of thorns.
"No,Isabel,give me this,you're not tall enough yet to do it" he muttered,gently taking the Christmas tinsel away from his daughter,who'd planned to climb on the sofa to wrap it around the tree."Why don't you settle for the Christmas balls , uh ? "
The little girl pouted, looking at the cardboard full of ornaments with so much displeasure that Levi,sighing, grabbed her in his arms and held her ; so she could be high enough to take care of the tinsels. His annoyance disappeared once he saw the smile his daughter arbored,and despite the fact that she was almost choking him with her arms,he remained silent,only sometimes indicating her where to put the things.
"Dad ,can I put the star ?" asked Furlan,pulling his father' jacket to get his attention.At the same time Isabel was trying hard not to lose her balance as she was finishing decorating,fearing to fall on the tree if she leaned too much forward.
"Of course,let me ju..."
"It's my turn to do it ! " suddenly screamed the little girl,turning her red face to her father. "You said I could do it this year,you promised."
Levi's brows furrowed as he tried to remember when exactly he had say that,and if he'd actually said it. His children began fighting,each of them swearing that they were the one supposed to take care of the star.
Finally,with another sigh,Levi put down Isabel,and before any of them could try to catch his attention,he grabbed the star and quickly put it on top of the tree. Silent fell over the room as the two kids looked at him in disbelief,as if what he'd just done was the most cruel act of treason that ever happened.
"Well...Don't you think our tree looks great ?"
A heavy silence answered him,and then,after a few seconds,violent shouts erupted in the room, Isabel and Furlan now bonding together against their father.
"I can't believe you did this ! It's something reserved to children,not parents !" yelled the boy,getting an aggressive nod of approval from his sister.
"Yeah ! Santa is going to get mad at you and you won't get any gift !"
Trying to contain his laughter,Levi stayed quiet,waiting for them to calm down.Finally,after a few minutes and once their voices started cracking,they stopped,breathing heavily as they looked at their father.
"You have to buy us cookies to made amend of your action." declared Furlan,proudly crossing his arms over his chest,quickly imitated by his sister.
"I have to ? Since when do I get orders from my own child?"
The boy opened and closed his mouth, wondering where was the limit and how far he could go before Levi stopped seeing this as a joke and truly got mad.
"Uh...I mean,you should do this...To...comfort us.But you don't have to.It'll just be nice"
"Can i get chocolate cookies ?" asked Isabel,not waiting for her father's answer to put on her shoes and get dressed to go outside.
Levi stared at his son for a few seconds,and then,with a smirk,ruffled his hair and nodded.
"I saw Santa shaped cookies yesterday,after work. Let's go and try them."
And,as his kids ran outside,Levi smiled to himself,thinking about how Christmas was really not that bad when you spent it with people you loved.
a little about how it was to be on dreblr for the past few months
this post is inspired by another ‘apologist’ discourse, but mostly this post is for me and for my need to speak about what my friends have been dealing with these past few months now and hopefully this will be the last time I look at this discourse.
this post is about tumblr only, i don't know how people act on twt, I don't care, tumblr is my main platform and everything in this post is about my experience.
let's start with the most pressing thing. the term apologist. it's not like we came up with the idea to use this word. it was a name that was forced upon us and as far as i know, we just kinda adapted. we gave up. some people call themselves c!dream apologists out of spite. some just don't care. I don't like using it, but I do it so people can mark me with a red flag and just leave me alone. but at the end of the day neither me nor my friends excuse all c!dream actions.
'if you get upset over a character that's on you' I AGREE! that's why I'm doing all I can to avoid seeing negative takes. so let's play a game. block the c!dream critical tag and then visit the dreamwastaken tag. how long does it take for you to find untagged c!dream hate? 5 minutes or less (usually less). IT'S EXHAUSTING. we keep asking people to tag their posts correctly but they ignore it or just flat out refuse to do that. there's a rather big blog who straight up has 'I won't tag c!dream neg' in their bio. when someone is brave enough to ask, they often hear that the post won't be tagged because that's true or canon. there would be no problem if that was just on their own blog. no one is required to tag anything after all. but if someone uses the main tag, shouldn't it be common courtesy to add the critical/negative tags? one of the blogs to follow when you search for the c!dream tag is called something like ‘cdreamhateblog’. we have to create our own tag to see the sympathetic takes about c!dream because visiting main tags stopped being fun for us. that's one of the reasons why we are so closed off. so maybe, just maybe, it's not all on us.
since we are talking about big blogs - I think some people are not aware how small dreblr is. almost no take passes 500 notes even if it is cool, unusual, has all the clips. but at the same time the most ooc takes, based on headcanons will gain 1k notes overnight. and of course it's tagged incorrectly. of course it's the first thing I'll see when I want to see some loveposting about a content creator.
it still bugs me that when I made some appreciation post for the people who don't hate c!dream, it left the dreblr bubble and people started tagging it like 'I love to hate him' and I got upset because that wasn't the point of the post, so I made another post about it. and you know what happened? I got vagueposted by another big blog. and that's wild because they weren't following me. they saw my post, they visited my blog, they saw that I was upset, they LIED what the post was about and then blocked me because they 'didn't want drama' so I couldn't even defend myself against those lies. and who other people are going to believe - a big respected blog or some c!dream apologist?
'people act like it's not clear why others don't like him'. oh believe me at least once a week someone gets an essay in their ask box why c!dream is the worst and irredeemable. I wish I could have one week when something about c!dream isn't made about the exile. and we get it! he was and sometimes still is an asshole! I’ve never seen anyone saying he wasn’t! but you have to understand that some people look at some of his actions with a different approach or depth and want to know more about his character. sure you can disagree with it because for you everything is crystal clear. but, despite what some people think, this is what dreblr is about! everyone is allowed to like and dislike characters as they please - that's why we ask: let us enjoy c!dream in a sympathetic way! (also 'apologists have to understand that they are wrong/have to accept that c!dream is villain' LMAO and we are the ones who don't understand why other people interpret a character differently?)
I'm not getting angry at the people who disagree with dreblr. but I do get angry at takes that are half-truths or just straight up lies. the most recent one: how many people believe that it was confirmed canonically that c!dream built prison for c!tommy because c!sam said so? and how many people know that cc!sam said it's not confirmed, that's what his character assumed and that we should focus on c!dream’s silence? exactly. maybe the prison was built for c!tommy, who knows? fandom for sure not because nothing has been confirmed. again, it's just exhausting seeing your favourite character being dragged through the dirt every time a new lore stream happens and lied about only because so many people dislike him.
'all c!dream apologists...' love c!sapnap because I love him. hate c!sapnap because my friend hates him. hate c! tommy. love c! tommy. c!dream and c!ranboo are brothers. c!dream and c!foolish are brothers. c!dnf is canon. c!fwt is canon. dreblr would be so BORING if we all were the same. we are not, we like different things, we have different theories, we want different things for c!dream. the main thing we have in common is that we see c!dream in a more sympathetic way. which also means that YES, there are bad apples here. there are probably people who are unfair towards your fav. there are people who speak about things that trigger you with words that make you uncomfortable. but you can ALWAYS ask to tag it better or just block the person. and continue to have fun in the fandom. just like we want to have fun.
and the last thing to address I believe. anon hate and death threats. it IS common in this part of the fandom. we have an ongoing list of safe people to follow. a list of people that will gladly discuss with anits because some people are too tired or too scared. there's always a creeping fear of your post leaving the safe bubble because it means it’s going to be constantly reblogged by people who are going to hate on us and send even more rude asks. I mean look how many dreblr takes are tagged also with the dsmp tag - almost none. some people don’t want to breach containment at any cost. sometimes people close the ask box for days or turn off anon because something happened outside dreblr and people are on the hunt for us. again. every red flag kinda post ends up being just c!dream apologists hate-fest at some point. it’s not like death threads surprise us but they are still unpleasant. same with people claiming that we need mental help. one of my friends was discussing some canon events with a very rude person just for this person to be back a week or so later to do some weird 'in your face' rebuttal after a new lore stream. so yeah maybe we sometimes are too scared to interact with other people, we can react too violently to criticism but you have to understand why we are like this.
on a side note, because that was already discussed - 'they are abuser apologists', you do know that some of us are abuse survivors as well, right? like, this is common knowledge, right? finding c!dream sympathetic doesn't cancel your trauma and people don't have to tell you about their trauma for you to give them a free pass? we are on the same page, right? also - no one should have to have any trauma to be allowed to enjoy a fictional character! do you even hear how weird that sounds?!
so with all of that, people started getting more vocal about how it is in the fandom. how uncomfortable we feel in this fandom space. funnily enough it happened around the time when that one reddit post went viral - when a girl had end years long friendship because her friend couldn't stop accusing her of being an abuser apologist even when person in question was a survivor. one day when I was wasting my time on tumblr I found a post that haunts me to this day. another big blog (because of course) wrote something like 'guys leave c!dream apologists alone, because they will start playing victims'. can you imagine that? can you imagine saying something like that to your followers, knowing perfectly well that they treat you like someone with the most based takes? I don't want to say that we are the victims, because it sounds too heavy when we talk about fandom discourse, but we for sure are not in the wrong here.
at the end of a day it's not like we hate everyone who disagree with us. dreblr has a lot of love to offer and I believe it can be confirmed by a lot of people who interact with us. we even 'adopt' people who don't call themselves c!dream apologists when they act friendly towards us. as long as you respect our ideas and correctly tags your crit we can be friends. but I won't offer a compromise about my feelings when it takes so little from other people for me and many others to feel safe in fandom space.
not every c!dream apologist would sign off under this post or agree with every single word said because again - we are different, and we have different experiences and we all deal with fandom hate differently. there are people who care less than me. there are people who care more.
I needed to write this post because sometimes when I see some discussion about apologism I wonder - maybe people are not aware how bad it can get out of nowhere here? so now you know :)
to whoever reaches this point of the post, thank you for your time. I hope it will help change things at least a little bit <3
Live For Tonight
Summary: Y/n L/n has been best friends with Pietro Maximoff for years, but she’s been over to his house before. What happens when she finally comes over and runs into his twin sister, Wanda?
Word Count: 4,469
Genre: Modern AU, Fluff
Warnings: Implied sex, suggestive themes, mentions of war
A/N: I left you guys hanging for two days, sorry about that, but here’s a longer one for y’all, hope you enjoy! :)
You would consider Pietro to be your best friend, for sure.
You guys met during your required P.E course during freshman year of college. You were pretty annoyed about it, you thought those stupid gym classes were supposed to end in high school. But whatever, it was only twice a week for three months. You could get through it.
And so began the routine of you dragging yourself through the gym doors every Tuesday and Thursday at 9am. You were not shy about your dislike for the class, which the professor definitely loved, but she couldn’t say much about it because somehow...you were still the best in the class.
Yeah, despite your obvious dislike for organized physical fitness tests, you were still pretty athletic and crushed everyone else’s times.
Well, actually, there was one thing you liked about that class. Pissing off the douchy frat boy football players and damaging their egos.
And then, in came Pietro Maximoff.
He had transferred into the class about two weeks in, having dropped another class in it’s favor which you would never understand. Because of your status in the class, your professor assigned you to help him run through a few drills to catch up.
You were pretty apprehensive at first. The boy had dyed white hair, he was pretty well built himself, and you saw him flirt a lot with the girls in your class. He was also on the football team. Yay.
But, to your surprise, Pietro was actually a very nice guy and you guys got along very well. Your first impression of him was wrong. Well, mostly. He did try to flirt with you at first.
“Hey, y’know, I’m not like these other dudes.”
“’I’m not like other guys?’ Really?” You chuckled.
“Yeah! I like that you can keep up with me, even beat me a lot of the time.”
“Um, thanks Pietro.”
“No problem. So, there’s this party that Peter Quill is hosting this weekend. I was wondering if you’d wanna come with me?”
“Oh...um..” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, you hated these types of situations. “I’m actually...not into guys...”
You had prepared yourself for him to do one of three things. Storm off in disgust, say that you just haven’t been with the right guy yet, or think you were lying. So you were pretty surprised when he said
“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I didn’t know.”
You blinked in surprise before quickly continuing. “That’s okay, I didn’t tell you.” You smiled. He laughed in relief.
“Okay, good. Well, I actually still really like you and wanna hang, so we can still go to the party together as friends...if you want?”
And that’s how your friendship with Pietro began.
That was two years ago. You were both currently juniors, and you’ve been through the ups and downs of college together. You were there for him when he broke his ankle during a game and he fell into a depression when he wasn’t able to play, he was there for you when your girlfriend of a year dumped you on your birthday, and of course you guys still partied hard and got shitfaced together.
So it wasn’t a huge surprise when Pietro invited you to go home with him during spring break.
Just like the last two years, you guys would’ve planned some sort of trip together along with a few of your friends, but this year, Pietro’s parents were renewing their wedding vows, so he had to be there for that. You always had a tentative relationship with your parents and tried to be home as little as possible, so you accepted the invite with no hesitation.
When you drove up to Pietro’s house, you had to double check the address to make sure you arrived at the right one. After you confirmed you were in fact at the right place, your jaw dropped.
“Pietro, what the hell?” You whispered to yourself.
Your three years of friendship were confined to the dorms on campus, and now to the apartment you shared together. Your home was also about two hours away from his, so you’ve never been to each other’s houses before.
The boy had failed to mention that his family was crazy rich.
You parked your car, that you were now pretty self conscious about, in the massive driveway. You got out, went opened the backseat to pull out your duffle bag for the week, and started walking to what you assumed was the front door. Before you reached it though, your white-haired best friend walked out.
“Y/n! You’re here!” He walked over to you, smile on his face, and gave you a tight hug. Your eyes peered over his shoulder, still bewildered by the giant mansion. Your arms came up to meet his hug slowly/
“Uh, hey, you never told me you were loaded, man.”
Pietro chuckled and pulled back from the hug. “You never asked.”
“I never wanna hear an excuse for your rent being late ever again.”
Pietro burst out laughing at that “You won’t. Come on, I’ll show you around!” He patted your back, and led you inside.
After a tour that felt like it went on forever, you guys finally landed in Pietro’s room. His room was very...him. He had trophies from high school football scattered on his desk, a lot of posters of superheroes, sports, and hot models were on the walls along with a giant tv, and he had a massive shelf filled with video games and all the latest gaming consoles on it. Not to mention, the room was of course huge.
“Holy shit...” You whispered.
“Make yourself at home, I’m gonna make us some nachos real quick.”
You nodded an he ran off. You looked around the room again as you took your duffle bag off your shoulder and placed it on the air mattress that Pietro set up for you.
You walked over towards the giant tv, and grabbed the remote that was sitting on the desk before turning it on. You went over to the corner of the room where a few bean bag chairs were stashed, and grabbed one, pulling it over to be in front of the tv.
Instead of sitting down right away, you walked over to the gaming shelf and grabbed a PS5 controller. You turned on the console, and sat down on the bean bag, shuffling through Pietro’s gaming library. You were browsing through it when you heard his voice behind you.
“You read my mind, L/n. Call of duty?” He asked as he grabbed his own beanbag and set it beside you. He set the nachos down on the floor in between you before grabbing a controller and then finally sitting down.
“But of course, my friend.” You spoke dramatically before you went to select the game.
After about an hour of you guys playing, you announced that you had to pee. Forgetting the details of Pietro’s mansion tour, you asked him where the closest bathroom was.
“Way to go, Amelia Earhart. Back down the hall, third door to your left.”
“Thanks, Jeff Bezos.” You laughed as you left.
You never were great with directions, and you never were great at telling your left from your right you should probably get tested, so it was safe to say you were a little lost.
You could’ve just call Piet to come and find you, but you were stubborn and didn’t wanna ask for help. The need to pee was quickly growing, so you were getting desperate and started randomly opening every door you came across.
After opening three doors that led to nothing but storage space, you were hopeful for the fourth. You opened the door quickly, and froze at what you saw.
You weren’t expecting a gorgeous redheaded woman pacing around, angrily talking into her phone.
“Jarvis, I already told you, I don’t know. Why won’t you just leave it alone alread-”
She paused, both her talking and her pacing, when her eyes locked on yours.
You stood there, mouth open, eyes wide, while you leaned on her door, hand still on the knob. You were clenching your legs together since your need to pee was getting urgent, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. And apparently neither could she.
In reality, the moment only lasted five seconds, but it felt like twenty minutes. Eventually, the moment was broken when you heard a voice over the phone the girl was holding.
Wanda, huh? Unusual for people your age, but...it suited her. Well, from what you could tell with only knowing what she looks like and the bright red tapestries that you see hanging from her walls.
The girl- Wanda turned her attention back to the phone to speak into it again. “Yeah...yeah, I’m here.” She replied.
Before she could get to far back into her conversation though, you tore your hand away from the doorknob and shyly raised your hand, trying to get her attention. She turned to look at you again.
‘Where’s the bathroom?’ You mouthed, not wanting to interrupt her call again. She just pointed down the hall quickly, before she turned around completely, back facing you and continuing her conversation. You figured that was the best you were gonna get and left, shutting the door behind you. At least you had a better sense of direction now.
You did end up managing to find a bathroom before you wet yourself.
Eventually, you got back to Pietro’s room. When you entered, he was lost in a call of duty round, so you silently made your way back to your beanbag chair and plopped down.
“There you are, I was about to send a search party.” He joked, eyes still glued on the tv screen.
“Yeah, well, I had to make my way through Fort Knox just to take a piss.” You laughed, grabbing your controller. “I got next round.”
A few moments went by, you watching as your best friend killed virtual zombies, before you poke up again.
“Oh, I ran into this girl.”
“A girl, huh? Was she cute?” He chuckled.
“Yeah, but it was on the way to the bathroom so I didn’t get time to work my magic.” You joked back, but Pietro just became confused.
“Oh, you mean here? That’s weird, I thought we were alone. Who was it?”
“I didn’t really get to talk to her, but I think her name was Wanda?” You said, unsure, but Piet paused the game at the mention of the name.
“What!? She’s here?”
You jumped back slightly, shocked at the sudden outburst. “Uh...yeah?”
“That’s awesome! Y/n, Wanda’s my twin sister!”
Pietro had talked to you about his twin sister before and how much he missed her. The two were inseparable growing up, but when they grew up things changed. Pietro had the stereotypical American teenager dreams, go to school on a football scholarship and have the college experience you saw in movies, his sister thought college was pointless and the idea never appealed to her. Instead, she opted for backpacking through Europe, and eventually visiting their native country since she didn’t remember much of it as they left when they were eight years old.
The two had still talked, but as both their lives got busier, the constant contact had dissolved into once a month check-ins. Needless to say, Pietro had no idea his twin sister was back in town, and he was beyond excited.
Without another word, Pietro dropped the controller and sprung up out of his chair before sprinting out pf the room.
“Wha- Piet, wait!” You ran out after him.
You arrived where Pietro ran off to only a few seconds after her did. You slowed to a stop, hands coming to your knees to catch a breath. Yeah, you were athletic, but you swore this boy had like super speed or something.
You looked up to see your best friend standing in the doorway you left not too long ago. Before you could say anything, he spoke.
“Wanda! You’re really here!”
You managed to peek into the room over Piet’s shoulder. You saw Wanda, now off the phone, sitting on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands. She looked up at the sound of Pietro’s voice, and you could see that there were tear streaks on her face. Your eyebrows furrowed in concern, but you knew you your place and thought it best to stay quiet.
Wanda quickly wiped her tears and her face shifted from distraught to excited. “Pietro!” She stood up and ran over to where you and the man in question were standing, throwing her arms around her brother in a tight hug.
Wanda’s eyes were clenched shut for a moment as she took in the presence of her brother that she missed very much. Her eyes opened, while the two were still wrapped in their hug, and she looked over his shoulder, eyes locking with yours.
You see the confusion swirl in her eyes for a moment, but she didn’t tear her gaze away. Neither did you. You raised your hand, shyly waving at her. Before she could respond though, Pietro released her from the hug.
“I missed you so much! When did you get back? I didn’t think you were coming.”
Wanda snapped her attention back to her brother, a smile appearing on her face. “I got back yesterday, I wasn’t gonna miss mom and dad’s vow renewal.”
“Not like they’d let you anyway.” Piet mumbled, causing Wanda to laugh.
“True, but honestly I was about to head back home anyway. Being on the road was fun, but I think it’s time it came to an end.” Wanda shrugged, but Pietro beamed at the news.
“Really!? That’s awesome!” He shouted in joy, wrapping the redhead into another tight hug. This time he lifted her up and spun her around, so you couldn’t steal another moment locking eyes with her. “So what’s next on the agenda then, big adventurer?” He asked as he set her down.
“Um, I’m not sure yet...that’s part of the adventure, right?” Wanda chuckled, but you could sense her hesitation. Still, you didn’t push. “But enough about me, when did you get back?”
“Not that long ago, probably been here a few hours.”
“Really? Surprised I didn’t notice you.”
“Well this place is as big as a mall, so...” You mumbled. You didn’t realize you said it out loud until you noticed Wanda’s gaze back on you. You heard Pietro laugh and felt his hand come to playfully slap you on the back.
“Oh, Wanda, this is Y/n.”
“Nice to put a name to a face, I hope you found the bathroom okay.” Wanda smiled as she held her hand out, you placed your hand in hers and shook it with a smile. You tried to ignore that it felt like electricity ran up your arm at the contact.
“I did, disaster averted. Thanks for the help.” You joked, letting go of her hand. Wanda let out a laugh, but this time you noticed how it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
Pietro placed his hand on your shoulder, effectively pulling you out of your trance. “It’s spring break, so she’s staying with me for the week.”
Wanda’s eyebrows shot up at this. “Ah, okay, so I assume you’re going to our parents vow renewal then?”
“That I am, hopefully it won’t be that weird for you guys.”
Wanda waved her hand in nonchalance. “Nah, don’t worry. I’m sure a bunch of Dad’s business partners and Mom’s friends that we’ve never met will be there too. You’ll be fine.” Wanda gave you a small smile, which you returned, but before you could respond, a cell phone went off. She turned her attention towards the bed, and rolled her eyes, before turning back to you and Pietro. “I gotta take this, sorry guys.” You and Pietro started to back away to exit the room, but the redhead spoke up again. “I’ll see you at the ceremony, though?” You knew she directed that question to both of you, but her eyes remained locked on you.
You smiled. “Yeah, definitely.”
Two days later and you were at Pietro’s parent’s vow renewal. Wanda wasn’t kidding when she said there would be a bunch of people there, the huge backyard was packed with people. You gathered that Piet’s father, Erik, was a very popular man. While you were happy that you weren’t sticking out like a sore thumb, the sheer amount of people was starting to give you anxiety.
You stuck by Pietro’s side the entire time, but you could tell he wanted to catch up with some of his cousin’s that were there. He didn’t voice it since he didn’t wanna leave you alone, but you insisted you could take care of yourself and let him go. You sighed, shoving your hands in your pockets as you wandered around. Eventually you spotted the large bar, and made a b-line for it.
‘I definitely need a drink.’
You ordered your favorite and began sipping on it, when you felt a presence next to you. “Looks like someone needed a drink.” You recognized the voice, you turned to see Wanda. Her scarlet red dress accentuated her curves and hair done up nice framing her face, making her look even more beautiful then you initially thought she was. You regained your composure hopefully before she noticed you staring.
“It’s like you read my mind.” You joked, raising your glass in confirmation that you did in fact need one.
“Not hard to, these events can certainly be draining. I don’t blame you.” Wanda waved her hand at the bartender, signaling for him to come over. “Take it easy though, not sure if I’d be able to direct you to the nearest bathroom in time.
You let out a loud laugh at this. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”
“Nope.” She popped the p, chuckling along with you. She ordered her drink and turned back to you.
“So, I guess you’re not enjoying yourself then?”
Wanda received her drink and took a sip before answering. “I was. I thought the vow renewal itself was beautiful, but I’m not a fan of these after parties. They’re boring and super uppity. Not really my scene.”
You nodded. “Yeah, definitely not the type of parties I’m used to. But, I’m happy to be the one to try to make this more fun for you.” Wanda gave you a once over.
“Shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a party animal, you’re with Pietro after all.”
“Yeah, I guess.” You chuckled as you took a sip of your drink. You choked on it slightly once you processed what she said. “Wait, what? You think I’m like with Piet?”
“Yeah?” Wanda said, now very unsure, her confidence shaken.
You laughed loudly, garnering the attention of a few of the snobs around you, but you didn’t care. “Holy shit, that’s hilarious! No, no way, I mean no offence he’s a good looking guy, but...no. I’m like, gay as hell.”
Wanda blushed at this. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Surprised the suit didn’t give it away though.” You laughed as you gestured down to your outfit.
“I didn’t wanna assume.”
“Fighting the stereotypes, very progressive Maximoff.” You sipped another drink, relishing in the way how the control was now in your hands as Wanda was now flustered. “So, backpacking through Europe, huh? How was that?” You changed the subject. Wanda coughed awkwardly as she continued.
“It was good, it’s really beautiful there. I’ve been to several countries and they’re all so diverse in nature and in cultures, never seen anything like it.”
“And Pietro said that you were going to visit your native country, right?”
“Yeah, we’re from Sokovia. Our parents fled with us when we were young, there was a war going on at the time and they didn’t want us to grow up in that.”
Your eyebrows shot up in concern. “Holy shit, you went to a country at war!? Are you okay?”
Wanda chuckled as she waved you off. “Don’t worry, the war there ended years ago, I was safe. Thanks for the concern though.”
You smiled. “Of course. If your face got blown off, I probably wouldn’t be here speaking to the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“We’re outside.” Wanda deadpanned, but you noticed the blush creep on her cheeks.
“In the world then.” You smirked. Wanda’s blush darkened and she bowed her head to try to hide it. You decided to give her a break again. “So what made you call it quits?”
Wanda’s head snapped up and she met your eyes. “Oh, just felt like it was time to come home.” She said quickly, but you didn’t believe her.
“How about the real answer?” You asked, and Wanda hesitated. “C’mon, I’m sure it’ll be easier to tell a practical stranger than Piet or your parents.”
Wanda sighed. “Well what I said is true, but...I met this man in London, his name is Jarvis. We started dating, and then after a year we got engaged.” Your eyebrows shot up again, but you remained quiet. “We ended up traveling together, and it was amazing... but, after Sokovia, I found out that he had been cheating on me. Some girl sent a nude photo to him and I saw.”
You reached out and placed a hand on Wanda’s leg in comfort. “I’m sorry Wanda, that really sucks.”
“You’re telling me.” She chuckled bitterly. “I always planned on coming home for the renewal, but after that, I figured I was better off just coming home for good. So I left without telling him where I was going, and he’s been bugging me ever since.”
“I’m sorry he ruined your trip.”
“He didn’t, don’t worry. I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world, and I saw everything I wanted to set off to see and more. It was just the kicker I needed to come back home, start the rest of my life.”
You hummed. “Well, who said you had to worry about the rest of your life? Just live for right now, live for tonight.”
“You sound like a postcard.” Wanda chuckled, as she took another sip of her drink.
“Doesn’t mean it’s wrong though.” You shrugged. “Come on! Anything you wanna do, right here, right now, fuck the consequences! What would it be?” You exclaimed excitedly, hoping Wanda would provide you with an answer.
Wanda gave a small smile and looked back up at you. She was grateful for your presence tonight, even though she barely knew you, she felt comfortable opening up. You provided her with the relief she needed, someone to just vent to without fear of judgement or biases. You comforted her, didn’t judge her for being engaged at 21 to someone who lived across the globe, not to mention she just genuinely enjoyed your company.
She trailed her eyes up and down slowly, taking in your entire body, before looking into your eyes again. She couldn’t deny you were extremely attractive too. Before she could even stop to think about it, the next words flew out of her mouth. “I wouldn’t mind doing you.”
You quirked up an eyebrow and smirked, doing your best to hide your surprise. “Oh, you wouldn’t, huh?
“Live for tonight, fuck the consequences, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” You took another sip of your drink. “And hey, I wouldn’t mind being your rebound, remind me to send this Jarvis dude a thank you card.” You cringed slightly, thinking you may have went too far, but surprisingly Wanda laughed at that.
“Come here.” With no other words, Wanda grabbed the collar of your shirt, and pulled you into a rough kiss. You reciprocated immediately, grabbing her hip, the dress material bunching up in your hand.
After a few moments, you briefly broke the kiss, you two still sharing the same breath. “You wanna lead the way?” You asked, breathless.
“Not like you could.” Wanda responded with the same tone. You giggled, and before you knew it, you were being dragged away from the party and back into the huge house.
A few hours later, you and Wanda fell back onto her bed. You were both naked, sweaty and breathless.
“Wanna go again?” You asked, still trying to catch your breath. Wanda laughed.
“Easy there tiger, don’t want you having a panic attack.”
“It’d be worth it.” You leaned back in to kiss her again, and the redhead reciprocated for a few seconds before she pulled away.
“Nope, nope, I don’t wanna have a panic attack either.”
You laughed “Aw come, I know this is a rebound thing, but I don’t really want this to end yet.” You said it lightheartedly, but there was a twinge of seriousness behind the words. You weren’t ready to let go of Wanda yet.
Wanda smiled, sensing the undertones of that, and placed her hand on your face lovingly. She took a moment to take in all your features, memorizing you. “You’re here all week right?” You nodded, and she rolled away from you momentarily to grab something from her nightstand. “Well...you know where to find me. And if you get lost again...here.” She rolled back over to you and handed you a piece of paper, you took it and saw it had a number scrambled on it. Her phone number. You smiled.
“I’ll do my very best to make sure I never need to use this.” You said, sarcastically and Wanda laughed again.
“I’m sure you will.”
You smiled dreamily, your head going back to hit the pillow again. After a few seconds of silence you spoke up. “Alright, it’s getting late. I should head back to Piet’s room before he actually sends off a search party.”
“You sure you don’t need a tour guide to get back?” Wanda asked as you got up and began putting your clothes back on.
“You’re hilarious.” Once fully dressed, you leaned down to give a still naked Wanda a quick peck. “But if I do, I know who to call.”
“That you do. Goodnight, Y/n.”
“Goodnight, Wanda.” You smiled as you left, smile still on your face as you walked down the hall. You pulled out your phone and quickly entering in the number before you inevitably lost the tiny slip of paper.
You shoved your phone back in your pocket and gave a short fist pump to the sky, excited. You couldn’t wait to see Wanda again. Now you only had to go back to her brother’s room and have the whole ‘so I might’ve slept with your sister’ talk.
...As soon as you can find it.
Gangsta’s Paradise (Michael Gray x Reader)
WARNINGS: DUB-CON BORDERLINE NON-CON, blackmail, loss of virginity, (for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that Finn Cole is taller than what he is okay)
! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !
➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
summary: an agreement with the Peaky Blinders is almost a done deal...until you catch the eye of Michael Gray. You’re suddenly thrust into the equation, and your father must decide between losing everything or losing you.
Soft lips brushed over your bare shoulder, even softer hands guiding the strap of your slip down your arm, fingers dancing along your skin. Despite the cold weather outside, your room was sweltering, and you pinned it onto the man behind you...the man who was currently unwrapping you like a gift. With fear coursing through your frame, you realized that in a way, you were a gift. A pretty little gift given to the big bad gangster in exchange for resources and protection and whatever else your family needed.
Your eyes fell closed, and you thought back to the day where your father’s desperation had first begun. Desperation that you had ultimately underestimated.
You had been nervous as you tended to the dishes that day, glancing at the clock every now and then. Cleaning and tidying up was how you coped, how you attempted to calm yourself. It normally worked, but today was an exception. Looking around, you realized that there was nothing else to clean, and with a sigh, you leaned against the wall, biting your lip.
The rest of the family had gone to Birmingham. They’d gone to handle...business, and you being the only girl in the family since your mom died, you weren’t allowed to have a hand in the business. It had been a great deal of bitterness for you for years, ever since you were old enough to understand what was really going on, but now you had gradually accepted your father’s reasoning.
Your father and brother and uncles had left early, taking some of their best men with them. You knew they only did that for serious matters, and you had been worried ever since you saw them leave. You had scrubbed the house from top to bottom, and now you had nothing to do but wait. It was fortunate that you didn’t have to wait for much longer, hearing several cars come down the driveway.
No one greeted you when you opened the door, faces pinched and sullen, and you knew then that things didn’t go as expected. The only one to acknowledge you was your father, the older man pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before trudging inside with the rest. You swallowed, conflicted on whether or not you should say anything, but your worry got the best of you.
“How did it go?”
Before your father could answer, you heard your brother slam his hand into the wall, the pictures shaking from the force.
“Peaky fucking Blinders,” he spat, and your blood ran cold.
Your eyes met your father’s, and he gave you a look as if to say leave it alone, but you were in shock. You had never imagined that your family would start doing business with the likes of them. Everyone had heard of them, knew who they were and what they did, and the thought of your family being involved with them in any way was a terrifying one.
Everything those men touched turned to poison
“Father,” you had chided as soon as you walked into his office moments later.
From behind his desk, he held a hand up, the other pressed to his forehead as he sighed.
“Not now, Y/N,” he said, sounding tired.
“You promised that things would be different,” you whispered, ignoring his words. “You told me that we would start becoming legitimate, legal. That we’d start doing things right.”
He slammed his hand down onto the wood, making you wince.
“They’ve got their hand in every cookie jar that matters. Thomas Shelby is a political man, now-.”
You cut him off with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest.
“Only a fool would get mixed up with the likes of them.”
He shot you a scathing look, and you swallowed, looking away with a sigh.
“We need their influence, their resources...their allyship.”
Your eyes widened at this, realizing that your father intended for much more than a one time business deal.
“You can’t be serious,” you murmured.
He didn’t respond right away, simply heaving a sigh before turning his attention to the paperwork before him.
“I will do my best to keep you away from all this, but prepare yourself for seeing a lot more of them, eh?”
He didn’t say anything more, and when it became apparent that that was the end of the discussion, you turned and left. You could hear your brothers and uncles murmuring in the kitchen, going over the day’s events, no doubt, and you made your way upstairs. You never knew exactly what it was that your father sold, but you figured that drugs and alcohol was the gist of it. He’d been in the business for a long time, and he’d made a promise to you that he was going to put a stop to it. That he’d start making money the right way.
Getting mixed up with the Shelbys, the Peaky Blinders, was not the way to go about it.
You understood the appeal though. They had power, resources, influence. With them as an ally, people would think twice about screwing your family over...but was it worth it? Was it worth the increase in violence? Putting the family in the kind of danger you could never even imagine? Was it worth the devastation and death that seemed to follow them like a plague? The answer was simple.
Your father didn’t seem to care about any of that though. Day in and day out, for weeks, you watched your family leave early in the day and return late in the evening, looking more irritated than they did the previous day. It was safe to say that negotiations with the Peaky Blinders was not going as expected. The frustration and annoyance was plain as day on your father’s features, and even though nary a word was uttered to you about anything, you could feel the tension mounting in the air.
The first time you actually met someone of the infamous family, it was a Wednesday. It was a rare day within the past few weeks in which your father was at the house. He had been holed up in his study all day when there was a knock on the door. You had blinked in confusion, trying to recall if your father had mentioned anything about company, but you had only just begun to move when you heard your father’s heavy footsteps traveling down the hallway.
Normally you would have argued against him, especially with a tone as harsh as his had been, but something in his voice made you listen. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he walked that made you understand the severity of the situation. You remained in the living room, listening as your father answered the door, unfamiliar voices eventually joining his.
Two men who you’d never seen before joined him in the hallway, standing between the kitchen and living room. You had slowly put your book down, story long forgotten at the sight of the strangers, and your movement caught their attention. Both of them were wearing hats and long coats, but you could still tell that their hair was dark. The lankier of the two was a bit taller, a mustache adorning his face while the other moved a toothpick around between his lips, a faint smirk crawling onto his face at the sight of you.
“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” the taller one greeted, and you quietly returned the greeting.
Your father cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.
“Arthur, John...this is my daughter, Y/N. She likes to look after the house when I’m gone.”
It was the truth. After your mother’s death, the house was where you felt most comfortable, and you were more than happy to lock yourself in its walls. Especially while the rest of your family ventured out.
“Darling, this is John and Arthur Shelby. I’ve been doing some business with them, remember?”
You fought the urge to sneer at your father, keeping your gaze on the strangers in your home instead.
“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said with a tense smile.
Knowing you so well, your father could recognize the displeasure on your face, and if the other men before you noticed it too, they didn’t speak on it. You watched as they followed your father upstairs to his study, the younger of the two tipping his hat to you before departing. You remained there for a time before slowly exhaling, turning to make your way outside. You paid no mind to how long they stayed, spending the rest of your day away outside in your garden. Your mother always kept one, and you had done the same since she died.
That was the first of the few times you ran across Arthur and John Shelby. They were the only two that ever came by the house, greeting you with tipped hats and secretive smiles. You had grown somewhat used to their presence and faces, but not enough to be completely comfortable around them. You didn’t meet the rest of them, didn’t meet him, until weeks later.
“What?” you had breathed, staring at your father in disbelief.
You watched as he rubbed his forehead, face pinched and eyes clouded over, telling you that he disliked this as much as you did.
“You’ll come to the next meeting with us,” he repeated, and you let out a sharp breath.
So you had heard him correctly.
“...why?” you eventually asked, sounding much calmer than you actually were.
“I know you hate them, but those Shelbys do have some morals about them. Things have been rather tense lately. It seems that we just can’t come to an agreement,” he sighed out, leaning against his desk. “...and I fear that things could become...rowdy.”
He didn’t continue, but you were smart enough to guess where this was going. When the realization hit you, your heart dropped, and you stared at your father like he was a stranger. The man you knew, the man your mother had married, would’ve wanted you as far away from any business dealings as possible. Somehow, the very same man was standing before you and suggesting…
“You think my presence at the meeting will make them behave...make them think twice about doing anything...violent,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.
He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, and you clenched your jaw.
“...and if it doesn’t-?”
“It will,” he argued.
“...but if it doesn’t…” you repeated with more force. “...then what? What will you do if they bring out the guns and razor blades right there? What will you do if they decide to use me to make you agree to their terms?”
Your father was silent, and you stepped towards him, eyes pleading.
“What will you do then?”
You watched as he straightened, standing to his full height as he looked down his nose at you. It was like you were looking at a completely different person, someone who wasn’t like your father at all. As you eyed him, you could see the stress on his face, the strain in his muscles, the conflict in his eyes. You’d had your suspicions that your family’s business with the Peaky Blinders was more serious than you could’ve imagined, but the toll it was clearly taking on your father confirmed it.
Even if you didn’t agree with what was going on, how your father went about getting what he so clearly needed and wanted, it was obvious that this was important to him. Since the death of your mother, very few things brought your father happiness. Very few things even halfway satisfied him, and hoping that this would, shoulders sagging with defeat, you agreed.
This was how you found yourself seated beside your father at none other than The Garrison. The pub was empty of any patrons or staff, only those important to the meeting present. Thomas Shelby, the man himself, was seated across from your father. He was as intimidating as you always believed he’d be, smooth voice having done nothing to calm you when he introduced himself.
John and Arthur, the two you were familiar with, were on his right while two more men by the name of Isaiah and Finn were on his left. They were one short in comparison to your father, his two brothers, your two brothers, and yourself, but an empty chair told you that one more was on their way. Seeing that the meeting had already begun, you deduced that their tardiness wasn’t a concern. Considering the nature of the meeting, a whole bunch of words that could be summed up into “who controls what”, you envied the mystery person’s absence.
For minutes now, you had contributed nothing, but then again… That wasn’t your purpose. No, the purpose of your presence was to keep the men in line. Your entire purpose was to play on what few morals the men had, and you fought to hold in a laugh. With every member of your family being armed, you wondered if your father even believed this would work. Too busy stewing over how your father had purposely put you in harm’s way, you didn’t take notice of the pub door opening.
You were only pulled from your thoughts when the sound of footsteps finally registered. Considering that your back was to the door, you couldn’t see their face, and you didn’t want to appear nosey or unprofessional or draw attention to yourself in any way really by turning to look. You only glanced up when he finally came into your line of sight, and you observed him in the same manner that you did all the others.
Something about him reminded you of Thomas, but his features were much softer, not so harsh. However, that made him no less intimidating. He wasn’t sporting a hat, dark hair neatly pushed away from his face, and something about him was different from the rest. On his own, he didn’t look like he belonged with the rest of them, and as Thomas explained that he was their chief accountant, you got the feeling that that was purposely done. He introduced the man as Michael Gray, his cousin, and losing interest once again, you looked away.
You played with your fingers beneath the table, wanting to desperately be anywhere but here. You had a feeling that you’d get your wish very soon, taking note of the change in tone in your father’s voice. He sounded happier, relieved, and you glanced up at him, his relief contagious. As you did so, your eyes briefly connected with that of the newcomer, Michael, and you quickly looked away. Even still, you could feel the weight of his stare, and you reluctantly returned it.
He didn’t look the least bit ashamed at having been caught, bringing his cigarette up to his lips, a thick coil of smoke escaping them moments later. His face was hard to read, and you felt yourself frowning slightly. You blinked, eyes trailing to your brother on your father’s other side, but he seemed invested in the meeting. Everyone seemed to be...everyone but you and the man named Michael.
When your eyes met his again, it was just in time to watch him lean over, lips at his cousin’s ear as he whispered something to him. His gaze held yours the entire time. You glanced around again, feeling as if there was a meeting within a meeting going on, and you were the only one to notice. Brushing off the unease you felt, you sat back in your chair, eyes on the table. It was hard to ignore the heavy gaze that pinned you to your seat, but you fought to manage.
Especially since it seemed that an agreement was finally being made.
However, that sinking feeling in your chest traveled to your gut, settling there as you watched John move to whisper something to Thomas. The man, the leader of this great gang, paused for the briefest of moments. It happened so quickly, and John was back in his seat as if nothing had happened, and while Thomas’ words did not falter, the way his eyes briefly flickered to you had you straightening in your seat.
Your eyes fell onto the blue-eyed newcomer again, and he took another drag of his cigarette. Every single one of them wore smug expressions, from the first moment you’d been introduced to every individual man, you noticed that they all looked as if they owned the world. Michael Gray was no different, but the way he looked at you made you want to be as far away from here as possible. As more tendrils of smoke left his pink lips, you noted that he didn’t look at you like he just owned the world. He looked at you like he owned you too.
“Everything does seem to be in order, but...there is another matter I think we should discuss,” you heard Thomas Shelby say.
You looked to him, watching as he stood, his family following his lead and your family following theirs. You tightened your coat around you as Thomas gestured for your father to follow him into the back. His absence made you nervous, but you simply stepped closer to your brother as you watched him follow the other man.
“Let’s wait outside,” your brother said, and eager to be out of here, you hastily agreed.
Your other brother remained inside with your uncles while you followed Matthew, the middle child of you three, outside.
“You alright?” he asked you as soon as you were in the fresh air. “You looked a bit tense in there.”
You watched him light a smoke, and you glanced away.
“The other one...the cousin, Michael… How much do you know about him?”
Matthew shrugged, exhaling.
“Not much. Doesn’t say much at the meetings, mostly handles the money,” he told you.
That did little to ease you.
You were just about to tell him the reason for your curiosity when the door to The Garrison came flying open. You watched in shock as your father came storming out, your other brother and uncles hot on his tail.
“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, just as alarmed as you were.
Instead of an answer, your father simply grabbed your arm, and yanked you along. You almost tripped over your feet, and you looked at your father like he’d lost his mind. His face was clouded over, eyes thunderous, and you wondered what had happened in such a short time.
“Quiet,” he hissed, sounding the angriest you’d ever heard him, and your eyes widened at this.
“I said quiet! Get in the car,” he spat.
He didn’t give you a chance to listen, opting for shoving you inside himself. Your foot was barely inside when he slammed the door shut, and you stared at the window in shock. Matthew joined you and your father in the car while the rest piled into the other vehicle. Your confusion only grew as the car roared to life, and you glanced up then to rest your eyes on a familiar face.
He leaned against the door to the pub, a fresh cigarette held between his lips as he lit it. His blue eyes were focused entirely on you, even as the smoke clouded his view and your father began to drive off, he didn’t appear to be interested in anything else but your trembling frame.
You sat at the dining table in shock, listening to the muffled sound of your father’s angry voice that traveled from his study. He was in there with the rest of the family, and he’d been in there for hours. He had barely looked at you when you all came home, heading straight for his office as he ordered the rest of the family inside. There was an unspoken agreement that that did not include you.
Still, the uneasiness from the meeting remained. You could still feel the heated gaze of the blue-eyed man, smell the smoke that drifted from his lips, see the way he watched you as he whispered to John. You could see the way Thomas had looked at you as John whispered to him, and this was what made you press your ear to your father’s study door hours earlier. This was what drove your curiosity to discover just what happened when you and your brother left.
“He wants her,” your father had forced out, sounding like he was going to be sick.
There was a long pause, and you had frowned in confusion.
“Who?” your other brother, Nathaniel, had eventually asked.
“The Gray kid! Polly’s son,” he spat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He wants her.”
You could hear your father’s heavy breaths, hear him pacing, and the confirmation that the discussion was about Michael Gray did nothing to quell your confusion. The silence that followed was loud and heavy, something unspoken in the air that you had yet to understand.
“...what?” you heard one of your uncles murmur.
Your father heaved a sigh, sounding much calmer now.
“They are...prepared to meet us more than halfway if we let him have her,” he slowly said. “Everything we’ve been working towards, everything we’ve been yearning for… It could be ours in a matter of hours if we let him have her.”
Nathaniel’s voice could be heard before your father even finished.
“You’re not considering this...are you? Father…”
“They’ve given us the day to think it over-.”
“What is there to think about? She’s our sister, your daughter, not some whore on the street,” Matthew interrupted, his words making you freeze.
Bile threatened to spill from your lips as you stared at the door, slowly backing away, their voices becoming less clear as you did so. Your back was pressed to the wall as the truth settled over you, and you suddenly felt foolish for failing to put it together sooner. Your stomach swirled, fear settling into your bones, and before you knew it, your head was in the commode, expelling everything you’d eaten that day. The tears had come shortly after, and that was how Matthew found you hours later, sitting at the table with tears in your eyes.
“I know you heard,” he said, sitting across from you.
You hesitantly looked up at him as he poured a glass of whiskey.
“You never could keep your nose out of things. Told you years ago to stop listening in on father’s conversations-.”
“Well, I’m glad I did this time,” you tearfully spat.
Matthew sighed, sliding the glass towards you.
“I think you deserve it tonight,” he said as you threw him an odd look.
Your shoulders sagged, and you gratefully accepted it, scrunching your face up at the strong taste that hit your tongue. The both of you sat there in silence for a while, listening to your father’s muffled voice, and you took another sip.
“What’s he going to do?”
Your fear must have been evident because his hand rested on yours on the table.
“Hey...he’s not going to agree, alright? He would never…”
You shook your head before he even finished, sniffling as you took another sip.
“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t know,” you breathed.
Your eyes met his, and he frowned at you.
“These past few months or so… He’s been different, and you know it. He’s made deals before, but it’s different this time. Everything he’s ever wanted is so close. It’s different this time, and you know it, Matthew.”
He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. You both knew that it was different this time, and you shuddered to think about what tomorrow would bring.
The next day came and went, much to your relief, and although you were glad that your father didn’t give into the Peaky Blinders, into what they wanted from you...what he wanted from you, it was still an unacknowledged elephant in the room. They still left the house for business, but you didn’t know if it was with the Blinders or not. You shuddered to think of how that conversation went when your father refused their offer.
You got the feeling that they weren’t used to not getting their way.
It was three nights later, three nights since that fateful meeting in which you’d caught the eye of Michael Gray, that you left your room to get a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, an unusual sight seeing as at least one brother was usually up late in the kitchen, drinking or having a smoke. That wasn’t the sight that greeted you.
The kitchen was empty of anyone else, and you drank your water slowly. You hoped that things would be better now. You recalled how relieved your father had looked over the past few days, how much softer his features looked, and you desperately hoped that it was because the family was finally on the right track. You made your way back into the hall, glass pressed to your lips, when you paused.
The only light in the living room came from the moon, it’s rays bleeding through the windows and onto the furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take note of the shape that didn’t belong. The shape of a man. Light flooded the room, and all of your breath left you, glass shattering at your feet.
You stared at him in shock, taking in everything from his neat hair to his shiny dark shoes. He was dressed much like he was the first day you met him, a dark grey almost black looking suit hugging his frame. He leaned back in your father’s chair, nursing a glass of Brandy, and it was then that you realized he’d been here for a while.
It was instinctual now, how your father was the first person you ran to. He didn’t respond, and you called for him again, cutting yourself off when a smirk slowly danced along Michael’s lips. Your mind whirled, and dread filled you.
“What are you doing in my house? Where is my father?”
A small chuckle escaped him, eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled out a cigarette.
“What do you think I’m doing here, love?”
Your entire body froze, the implication behind his words clear, and you shook your head. You called for Matthew...then Nathaniel...then your uncles and your father again. The only thing that met you was silence, and your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden. The weight of your predicament fully settled over you, and you slowly shook your head.
“No,” you breathed in disbelief. “...no.”
The man before you didn’t respond, simply pressing the cigarette between his lips, reaching in his pockets for a light, no doubt.
“I don’t believe you.”
That was what you said, what your lips formed, but your heart and your head didn’t agree. Something didn’t feel right from the moment you woke up, and a part of you that you desperately wished would shut up did believe him.
“Do you really think your father would allow anyone into his home without his knowledge or permission?”
You watched him pull a drag, smoke filling the air, and you stumbled back, running for the door. You didn’t hear him behind you, and for that you were relieved, but your relief was short lived. Upon swinging the door open, you were met with the sight of John and Arthur Shelby dawdling in your driveway. They appeared to be having a conversation when you opened the door, their voices abruptly cutting off at your appearance. John simply smirked at you from around the smoke in his mouth, Arthur tipping his hat towards you.
With a shriek, you slammed the door shut in their faces, chest heaving with uneven breaths as the situation fully resonated with you. You stumbled back further into the hallway, and Michael was still in the same place as before, nursing a cigarette as you fought to figure out a way out of this.
“You can’t...you can’t do this,” you eventually murmured, glaring at him.
Michael simply fixed you with an even stare, smoke escaping from his nose, the cigarette dancing between his fingers.
“I’m a Peaky Blinder, love. I can do whatever I want.”
He said it with so much conviction that you knew he believed it, and the longer you stared at him, the more you believed it too. You warily glanced around, telling yourself that you might actually have to fight this man, might have to fight to protect what your father had wrongly given away. Even though part of you denied it, you slowly accepted that Michael was telling the truth. Despite the fact that your family’s business and even lives were at stake, your father had no right to trade away what didn’t belong to him.
Michael’s eyes never left you as you stood there, and you finally looked to him again when he cleared his throat. The cigarette rested between his lips as he slipped out of his jacket, and you swallowed at the dark look in his eyes. He took another drag.
“Before you do...whatever it is that you’re about to do…”
He parted his mouth, the smoke swirling in there for a bit before pressing his lips together, tendrils escaping his nose.
“You should know that I’ve shot men in the head with no hesitation. I drug my blade across a man’s throat once and reveled in the taste of his blood on my lips.”
You flinched, taking a step back.
“When Tommy first tried to scare me away, threaten to send me back to the village in which I grew up… I told him about a well there, that I’d blow it up with dynamite if he made me go back...didn’t care if my hands went with it.”
He finished his cigarette, putting the rest of it out, eyes boring into yours as he slowly exhaled the smoke he’d been holding in.
“I just knew it’d be worth it to see those pretty white bricks all over that pretty village green...and I meant every word of that.”
You didn’t respond, and his blue eyes slowly dragged over every part of you, taking you in from your hair all the way to your bare feet, lingering on the thin nightgown in between.
“It’s something about the violence, you see.”
His words unnerved you, and he continued.
“The violence, the blood...the fight...it does something to me. Gets me excited, all riled up, so please…”
He gestured towards you, eyes glinting with something that made your heart stop.
“Do fight back, hit me even… It’ll just make me want to fuck you that much harder.”
The tears finally skipped down your cheeks, and you stumbled back as he stood to his full height. With a shaky breath, you staggered up the stairs, running to the last room at the end of the hall, a guest room. You were quick to pull the window up, looking down below in worry. It was high up, that was for sure, but the alternative was worse.
Before you could even get a foot out, warm hands pressed into your stomach, pulling you back against a broad chest. A startled scream left your lips, and Michael’s hands traveled to your arms, fingers pressed into your skin as he held you tight. You leaned your head away from him as he pressed his face into your neck, breathing you in.
“Your father made a big mistake bringing you around us, eh?”
You couldn’t will your lips to move, too paralyzed with fear and nerves and anxiety for the unknown. The way he touched you was foreign, the scent that clung to him, a mix of cologne and expensive liquor and cigarettes, was foreign. The creeping sensation that blanketed your body was foreign. All of this was foreign, and more tears pooled within your eyes as the inevitable drew closer.
“He thought you’d keep us in line, keep us on leashes...but ever since I saw you, the only thing I wanted to do was take you like a fucking animal.”
You jerked in his hold, fighting to get away from him, but Michael tsk’d.
“Let’s not spoil this, hmm? You seem like a good girl...if you catch my drift.”
More tears fell at his words, and he hummed.
“You do. You strike me as a well behaved lady of the house...and you girls like for this to be special, yeah? All gentle and loving,” he slowly mocked as he forced you towards the bed.
He shoved you onto it, knees pressing down on either side of you soon after, preventing you from going anywhere. Your tears soaked the sheet, and Michael’s fingers ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“I want you to look at me as I fuck you.”
He gently turned you over onto your back, and you stared up at the man before you. Even in the darkness, you could see the blue of his eyes perfectly. They were bright and filled with a hunger that scared you, a hunger you had never been on the receiving end of before. Michael leaned over you, caging you beneath him as he pressed his forehead to yours, soon followed by his lips.
You’d kissed men before, but they were soft sweet nothings that could barely be called a kiss. You knew that if you wanted to marry well, contribute something of substance to your family, you had to be smart about your actions...your reputation. All of the men, realizing that you weren’t going to give them what they wanted, left. Accepting that your family and reputation came first, they always left, and it hurt every single time.
But it will be worth it.
That’s what you constantly told yourself. After every heartbreak, every sneer, every harsh insult thrown your way about what a frigid bitch you were, you told yourself that it would be worth it. And yet...here you were...beneath a gangster, having your reputation ripped away from you by a man who stole and murdered and wasn’t decent in any way.
Life was funny.
After slipping out of his shirt, the flimsy material floating somewhere behind him, Michael guided your hands to his chest. Your trembling fingers danced along his taut skin, taking note of an imperfection. An old bullet wound, you deduced. The dark-haired man groaned into your mouth, pressing into you, and you could feel him hard beneath his trousers. The reality of what was about to happen seemed to slink around your neck like a noose, and you didn’t even realize that you’d started panting until Michael’s hand found your neck.
“I-I can’t- I can’t do this-.”
He shushed you, kissing you again.
“Behave...and I’ll be good to you. Breathe,” he urged.
You slowly did as he suggested, squeezing your eyes shut as his other hand pushed the smooth material of your nightgown up your legs. One hand was still on your throat as that same hand traveled to his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. Your whole body went numb for a moment, ears ringing and vision blurring, and when you finally came back to earth, Michael’s hips were pressing against yours, nothing in between you.
He was speaking to you, you noted.
“...what?” you murmured.
“What’s your name, love?”
You swallowed, quickly darting your tongue out to swipe over your lips.
He repeated it, clearly liking the taste of it on his tongue. He nodded at you, drinking you in as he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly committing you to memory before sliding into you with one quick thrust. Your nails pressed into his skin, and he hissed, your own lips parting to let out a pained gasp. Michael held himself above you, a low groan escaping him as his forehead touched yours again.
“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispered, nose bumping against yours.
He held himself there for a long time, just feeling you. You weren’t naïve enough to think he did it for your sake, and you got the feeling that he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. When he did finally move, your chest arched upwards, unable to handle the unfamiliar feeling. His hand was still on your neck, and you wrapped your hand around his wrist.
The feel of him inside of you was strange. You couldn’t describe it, but you felt full...you felt stretched...and in a way, it felt unnatural, but the heat that festered deep within your stomach said otherwise. One of Michael’s hands was pressed into the bed beside your head, holding himself up so that he could look at you. You remembered his words, and too terrified to disobey, you fought to keep your eyes on him.
His face was strained with concentration, eyes flickering between your face and down to where the two of you connected. The hand that was on your neck slid down to your chest, thumb brushing over a heaving breast before resting on your stomach, pinning you down as he snapped his hips into yours. It was too much for you, too much at once, and your lashes fluttered.
“Look at me,” he roughly breathed.
“I can’t...I can’t,” you panted, head twisting from side to side.
You could hardly focus on anything other than the way he was thrusting into you, taking you to heights you never knew existed. He called your name then, and you reluctantly met his eyes, the hunger in them making you shudder.
“That’s right. Eyes on me, love. Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you,” he murmured.
The smugness in his voice and face made you frown, a spark of anger in you.
“Do you fuck all of your girls like this? Huh?”
He didn’t respond, pink lips simply curving upwards into a humorous smirk.
“...or am I special because you get to ruin my life and go on with yours?” you shakily spat.
Michael slammed into you then, forcing a choked gasp from you.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You just focus on milking my cock, hmm?”
You wanted to hit him, spit at him, do anything other than lay there and take his unrelenting thrusts, but your body seized before you could do any of that. Your toes curled and your stomach clenched and your body shook as stars exploded behind your eyes. You hadn’t even realized what a moaning mess you had become until Michael paused just to listen to you, just taking you in with something akin to awe on his face.
You didn't have time to catch your breath before he was chasing his own high, hands pressed into your waist so hard you were sure you’d bruise. Your nails dug into his wrists, choked moans tumbling from your mouth as you clenched around him again, just in time for him to spill into you, releasing a long breath as he did so. You clung to him, tears catching in your lashes as you laid there, mind whirling at what you’d just done.
You flinched, shrinking in on yourself when his lips brushed the corner of your mouth just before pulling out of you. You winced at the action, staring up at the ceiling as you heard him moving about. You turned your head when you heard the strike of a match and watched as he lit himself another cigarette, pants just barely settling on his waist.
“So what happens now?” you finally asked, voice low in the dark room.
Would your father and brothers come through that door tomorrow, pretending that they hadn’t sold you out? Would they be able to even look at you? Stomach the sight of you? Fresh tears kissed your eyes just as Michael spoke.
He took a pull, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he neared you.
“...I’m going to fuck you at least three more times before the night is over.”
You sat up at this, paying no mind to the pain in between your legs as you stared at him with wide eyes. Without realizing it, you gripped the end of your nightgown, pulling it to your knees as if somehow trying to prevent that very thing from happening.
“...and then I want you to pack a bag. Just some things that’ll last you a few days. I’ll be buying you a whole new lot of clothes anyway.”
“You’re my girl, now,” he quietly said, voice firm as he stood over you, free hand playing with the strap of your gown as the other held his cigarette to his lips.
You shook your head, staring up at him in disbelief.
“I...no. My family...they-.”
“Sold you away without a second thought.”
Your heart clenched as he threw that in your face, and you turned away as he reached for you. His fingers pinched your chin, jerking you to face him, and you swallowed. He bent down, staring into your eyes.
“You won’t have to worry about that with us...with me.”
He took one more pull of his cigarette before placing it on the nightstand, tendrils of smoke escaping his nose and mouth just before he pressed his lips to yours, fingers pressing into your skin as he settled between your legs.
tags: @cocoamoonmalfoy @trinittyy @ziamslarry-blog @a531a @s-u-t @sunshinechim-98 @callmechannel @lil-hungryy @oneoftheprettynerds @scissorkidscult @madamerubrum
ive had enough people be jerks to me in the start of the game? i dont need to have more people i have to impress and show my power to? its tiring asf. ive made pact with seven demons and everyone simps for me, WHAT TF MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO PROVE GET OFF MY BACK- *exhales* lmao. i get they wont instantly like us, but the "dont care to love you" transition where i have to show them my ability is kinda getting exhausting. like, please love me *cries*
You can't just say this😭😭😭😭😭😭 I genuinely panicked cause "what the fuck did I do to this person now" ahmgdjgdhnsuyd pls it took me till "i get they wont instantly like us" for me to realise you were talking about the new characters
YOU GAVE ME PREMATURE WRINKLES NONNIE
My heart's still beating too fast wtf😭😭😭😭
I get that it can be frustrating but personally I like it better than them immediately simping for MC? The fact that it took till the end of S1 for the romance to begin (with the exception of Mammon's crush and Asmo's general flirting) is one of the reasons I stuck with OM! for so long
And I don't know much about Mephisto to figure out what his beef with MC is (it just might be beef by proxy cause he doesn't like Lucifer) but I think, given the current storyline, it makes sense for Raphael & Thirteen to dislike MC?
Michael (? Or the voice in the light) himself said that he expected MC to be wicked because they were favoured by the demons so much.
Despite the more or less cold war between the Celestial Realm and Devildom, the Celestial Realm still seems to see the Devildom in the same way they did during actual war. According to Angel! Lucifer even the dirt in the Devildom is not fit to be stood on by an angel. MC's heavily associated with demons because of the pacts. To an angel they'd be worse than the dirt in the Devildom
Though according to Raphael's voice message on OM!'s youtube channel he acknowledges that both he and MC have a negative view of each other due to what they've heard and that they should possibly start on a clean slate
MC broke into her house with one of the people Thirteen hates, unconsciously counteracted all her traps allowing the brothers to break all the rules of her traps, turned a blind eye when Solomon stole from her and then helped Beel cheat death, which is probably a huge breach of contract
I too would want to punch MC in the face if I was Thirteen
s/o has freshly shaved legs. 
A/n: requested by anon, teehee. thank you!! also, not genshin related, but I just saw levi in the new season and whew, he could STILL get it if he asked :) also, to my readers out there, when I bring up “shoulder rides”, I know some some people may not feel comfortable with that (which is okay!), I didn’t type that to not include everyone, that’s why I wrote “he’s going to give you shoulder rides if you feel comfortable.” key word is comfortable, you guys can imagine this scene or not, it’s intended to not exclude anyone, despite size, etc. I only bring this up because I know a lot of readers may feel left out, but by insinuating comfortable, you’re free to imagine this or not! I hope I made sense/wasn’t rude <3 ;-; happy reading!!
Summary: s/o has freshly shaved legs.
Parings: Diluc/Reader, Xiao/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)
Warnings: swearing, nsfw themes implied, fluff?, crack
Word count: 1.5k
Diluc is a pure GENTLEMAN, so he feels very guilty ogling at your legs
he’s drawn in because of how smooth and buttery (probably some lotion or oil he assumed) they look
eventually, after becoming embarrassed for staring, he’ll find the will to stop
after all, he’s a GENTLEMAN
but that doesn’t mean the thought of your legs leaves his mind, you’re dead fucking wrong
he can’t stop thinking about how soft they looked
if only he could reach out and touch you, just once, just for a second
goodness, he hates the way he feels and surprisingly, when Kaeya stops by the winery for his daily drink, diluc may or may not confide in his friend, brother,
poor diluc, he’s too respectable and truly thinks it’s WRONG
“why can’t I stop staring at her legs?” he will mutter more to himself. “I feel disgusting.”
“well, she’s hot for one-”
poor Diluc, Kaeya is NO help, he only wants to flirt with you
Kaeya will continue to apologize and make cocky comments, but in the end he reassures it’s natural for lovers to feel this way
poor Diluc part 2
let's just say when he returns late in the dead of the night he refuses to even look at you
he’s so disturbed, poor boy, you’re probably his first s/o and he feels dirty for thinking lewdly about you from just seeing your thighs
he dips to your room so fast, he just wants to sleep it off
You were shocked, to say the least when he didn’t give you his usual hug and kiss on your cheek. Maybe he had a long day? That’s usually always the reason. But even then, before he retired for bed, he made sure to show some kind of affection.
“Diluc, sweetheart, where are you going?” You called after him, ignoring how the servants kept trying to grab his jacket and hang it on one of the coat racks; he was having none of it.
“Oh okay, wait, we can walk up together-” He was gone from sight. You sighed in annoyance, you disliked when he became distant. Nonetheless, you dismissed the three servants for the night and began traveling to your room.
Eventually, you arrived in your bedroom to find Diluc laying on the bed, clothes from today still on, as well as his boots. You clicked your tongue. Did he have to wear his boots in your bed?
“Not even your boots are off?” You had said, shuffling around the bed to tug your lover's shoes off. He heard you grunt, seemingly having trouble with the simple task.
In the meantime, he had taken notice of how you had shrugged off your robe and it was somewhere else in the room, leaving you only in a simple cotton nightgown. It wasn’t revealing at all, simple and classy how he liked it, but god damn it your legs were exposed.
A simple nightgown, that’s all it was, but why couldn’t it reach your ankles? No-he should not have such standards for you, especially when you’re comfortable. Why did he have to be so lewd...
“Was today a hard day? I didn’t see you after you left the winery earlier... Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He huffed, you mocked him, sitting next to him on the bed, eyeing him carefully. You shifted and although it wasn’t meant to reveal any more skin, the movement had...
“I’m not a very good mind reader, so you’re going to have to tell me if somethings wrong-”
“Please don’t sit like that...”
“Like what? This is a normal sitting position.”
“Yes but...” He’d huffed again. You knew Diluc well enough to know that he wouldn’t say anything else, it seemed he was already having trouble enough.
“Are you being a horndog?”
“A what- I’m sorry who are you?” He teased, though utterly confused. “You’ve been hanging out with Aether too much.”
“It’s okay, I saw you staring earlier. I don’t mind.”
Diluc.exe has stopped working
he can’t believe he was stupid enough to stare AND get caught doing so
you’ll simply just respond by saying, “It’s okay, Diluc. I don’t mind, it makes me feel attractive. At least I’m doing something right.”
lol, it doesn’t matter though, he’s a blushing mess
all he can think is that he’s better than kaeya, he has standards for himself, staring at a woman's thighs is NOT respectable
even if you’re his fiancee
says he doesn’t care when you show him how smooth your legs are
ARGUES and SASSES you when you say you know he’s entranced
he continues to say no
well guess what, he’s a stone-cold liar
he’ll probably stare once or twice, but otherwise won’t let you distract him
instead, he’ll touch your legs in private (as long as it’s okay with you)
he claims he doesn’t care, but he enjoys how soft they are
never in his life did he think someone could be so soft
all he wants to do is touch your legs, but sadly he has his duties
I think he’d be the type to touch your calves when in bed (just laying, pls no sexy times)
like when you’re both getting ready for bed, he’ll guide your leg to lay over his waist so it’s sorta hooked around him, and he’ll just rub your calves pls
he likes giving you a massage, it's his way of showing physical affection
and although it does lull you to sleep, the gesture is also comforting for him too
he loves your soft legs
pls don’t ever stop shaving as long as you’re comfortable (he loves you with shaved legs or not)
he may or may not become a little baby if he can’t touch your soft legs
like he’s not gonna shed tears
but, he’s gonna be BITTER AF
SALTY, is the right word
You just wanted to get up to use the bathroom, hell you were gonna pee your pants. But Xiao would not let go. Unfortunately, he’s a light sleeper, so he felt you shifting in the bed when you went to get up.
“Don’t leave.” He whispered.
“I have to pee, Xiao.” You said, guiding his prying hands away from your leg.
“Your legs, soft. Please sleep,” He muttered incoherently, smoothing a calloused palm over your thigh.
You frowned at the black and teal haired man. “I’m legit going to pee myself if you don’t let go.”
He didn’t answer. In conclusion, he’d fallen back asleep.
you knew better than to wear skirts, dresses; anything that revealed your legs
or else you’d be the subject of your boyfriend’s comments and staring
this was your own doing, childe thought, your fault
when he’s caught staring by you or anyone, he doesn’t care
as long as you’re comfortable, he doesn’t care that he stares at your legs
some of the elders around Liyue Harbor will scold him for his rudeness, calling him inappropriate
they dislike him so much, not all, but a good handful
but he DOES NOT CARE
as long as you’re comfortable, he’ll continue to stare as long as he’d like
yes, even if he’s a perverted horndog, he’s still a respectable perverted horndog, he’s going to make sure you’re okay with everything he does/says
pls, he’s going to give you shoulder rides if you feel comfortable, just to nuzzle his cheeks into your inner thighs
and he’ll run his hands over smooth knees
he LIVES for your smooth legs, also just wanna say he doesn’t mind if you haven’t shaved your legs either, you’re gorgeous either way
he’s the ultimate horndog and does not try to hide it, like Diluc and Xiao
he’s like Kaeya, but let’s be real he’s not going to try and fit every flirtatious comment into EVERY sentence like him
he’s more of a physical guy ;)
he’s going to leave lingering touches on your legs, pinch them teasingly, do whatever as long as he gets to touch them
just gonna say this, but kisses on smooth thighs? muah, he does this and has zero shame
not even during sexy times, he’ll do it if he’s laying his head on your legs and they happen to be exposed
he does not care, he can do whatever he wants, this is his way of showing his affection towards you
“You’re going to suffocate! Get your head out from between my thighs,” You scolded the orange-haired man. He chuckled, giving you very nonchalant vibes.
It was getting harder and harder to ignore the passersby’s stares, why did they have to be so nosy? Well... this wasn’t necessarily something everyone wanted to see, even if it was entirely innocent, it did look highly inappropriate.
“Plus we’re in public, Childe!” You noted.
“Please, who cares!” He taunted, nuzzling his head even further. Your face flushed hot.
“Your legs are soft.”
“Yes, but do you have to do it like that? This looks wrong-”
As I said, he does not care!!
i feel like im annoying lol but here i am again 🥴
🥴 how do da boys react to a super bimbo mc like shes busty, sweet, innocent, helpful as much as she can be and doesnt really realize when people are hitting on her, she just thinks theyre being extra friendly. (Tamaki, izuku, shoto, denki, bakougo) or any of ur choice
Sorry if I’m being annoying ( •᷄ὤ•᷅)？ and tysm
character(s) : bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto, amajiki tamaki (bnha)
probably (?) part one // ?
legend : [Y/N = your name] female! s/o, quirk not specific
headcanon type : fluff, crack (x reader)
note(s) : sooo 🤩 it’s my birthday tomorrow, not excited about that?? not sure! but im definitely gonna post more tomorrow, just because
»»————- ♡ ————-««
you didn’t seem like his type tbh. you’re kinda an airhead, and you’re sweet and helpful to everyone
and awfully innocent,,
so, you seemed like the person that bakugou would try and stay away from, but nope!
not in this case. i’m not sure what conspired in this explosive blond’s head, but he had a oddly specific attraction to you
he used to hate being around you, but it’s also quite entertaining being around you but why, you may ask?
not only are you super nice, and helpful, but you’re very likable too! which caused you to get secret admirers, and fanboys
but you also so happen to be clueless as fuck, so katsuki would always stick around— obviously very amused, only to tell you what their true intentions are
“what do they mean, go out? like,, outside?”
“no, dumbo. they wanna date you.”
“..like the calendar?”
“hah?? are you dumb?” he actually hated how oblivious you were at first, but he just got used to it
but this clueless airhead trait of yours is what he also hates, because when he developed feelings for you— he’d have to tell you
and,, he’s not the best with being direct with romantic stuff. so— you can see how that went.
he ended up confessing you in the most direct way he could’ve said it, but you still. didn’t. understand.
“fuck sake, i want to be your significant other. your fucking lover, the bitch that’ll be with you until this dumbass brain of yours stops working.”
okay, he was a little too direct, but at least you know his feelings!
when you both finally get together, everyone is shocked. like,, you, the sweetheart that likes helping people— dating thee bakugou katsuki??
everyone thought you were threatened to date him, because you didn’t understand other people’s advances— but in reality, katsuki just told you what he felt
straight from the heart.
also, since you’re also quite busty, katsuki loves sleeping on them— he literally won’t sleep, until he has his head resting on those milkers of yours
“maybe this is all you’re good for, huh? a fuckin’ head rest. there might not be anything up there, but at least it gives me some good fuckin’ sleep.”
he,, doesn’t mean that. you’re useful in so many other ways, but he loves pretending that he thinks that way, because of your replies
“ah, yes! i’m fine with being your head rest, katsuki. rest well, love!”
you’re not hurt, because he makes it a point to tell you multiple times a day that you mean lots to him.
but he gets super mad when people tell you that you’re stupid. because he can only tell you that!!
you also didn’t seem like you’d be his type,, everyone thought he would’ve wanted someone that’s smart as momo, or something similar
but he’s very content with being with you, for reasons he can’t seem to figure out.
he has his habit of watching you help people from afar, and he couldn’t help but smile whenever he engages in conversations with you
yeah sure, you might be more of an airhead than most people— but you have a heart of gold! and that’s what gathered his attention
sometimes, he’s quite clueless to some social cues— but even he can connect the dots
which you can’t seem to do. but you’re in luck! shouto’s usually the one that tells you what they mean
it’s something he loves and hates, only because of how popular you are with people in general.
sometimes, shouto debates if he should even tell you what they mean— because well,, he likes you.
usually, shouto would interpret things to you like this
“,, they like you,, romantically.”
“shou, are you sure? they look like they wanna be my friend!” he lets you call him by his first name, just because of how content you look by calling him ‘shouto’
he ends up whispering something into your ear, and your eyes light up in realization. “oh! so how princess bubblegum likes marceline?”
but being shouto todoroki has it’s advantages. he isn’t afraid of being as direct as he could possibly be.
“may i have the honor of being your lifelong partner?”
“oh, romantically. i’d love to be your lover, Y/N.”
“..oh! that’s what you meant.”
the way he sees you stumble with your words, as you pace back in forth— completely flustered by his words
makes him smile
and it all ends well when his friends see that his wallpaper is literally him laying down on your chest
which is something he always wanted to do
“shouto,, did you finally confess?!”
“yes. they said yes.”
they’re not really surprised that you understood, courtesy to shouto’s bluntness.
he is your protector against all of the people that make you seem useless. man literally lashed out when his father asked him to date someone with ‘more intelligence’
“Y/N may not be the definition of being book smart, but Y/N’s not useless!”
in short— he’s the bimbo protector! he’ll always be patient around you, and he would never dare to dumb you down.
oh lOrd, please help him
you’re so kind, sweet, and helpful. you’d help anyone— regardless of their personality. and that’s what made tamaki interested in you
but you’re also very popular. which he could see why— since you’re attractive in a unique and special way.
tamaki absolutely disliked the idea of your kindness being taken advantaged of. i mean,, the guts of some people!
but he also hated being the one to break the news to you good or bad
he’s not good with the blunt stuff either, and he might’ve been worried about being around you— because well,, you look like you wouldn’t even hurt a fly.
“tamaki, what do they mean by ‘coming home with them for a nice time’ do they.. want to play mario cart with me?”
he looks like he needs to pass out, but he ends up telling you anyway. he’s just lucky that you could hear him.
but he sighs in relief when you end up kindly declining
nejire and mirio are SO amused by this pairing. i mean, it’s an interesting dynamic! how could they not be invested?
yet, they refuse to even explain things to you, especially when tamaki’s around to do said explaining
because apparently, ‘it’ll help you socialize more, especially with Y/N!’
but remember when i said that tamaki wasn’t great with the blunt approach? yeah— he’d have a heart attack, just trying to explain his feelings
“i— uhm how do i say this,, would you like t-to go out for some dinner with m-me?”
“oh sure! i should go tell mirio and nejire” you’d say that with a smile, and it felt like he was going to pass away on the spot.
nejire and mirio were the ones the tell you that ‘no, tamaki doesn’t want to be friendly with you, because he wants to romantically date you.’
and it felt like forever when they were explaining how and why, while tamaki was sitting in the corner.
but thank GOD! because you like him too!
super hesitant on resting on your chest, i mean,, to him, it looked like the nicest pillow for the deepest sleep! but he wasn’t sure if that’d be okay
because no!! to!! taking!! advantage!! of!! Y/N’s!! kindness!!
speaking of that, despite the fact that he’s socially awkward— he will not hesitate on defending you from any haters!
like, when people say that “tamaki and Y/N are such an awkward couple. tamaki’s super awkward, it looks like there’s nothing in Y/N’s brain. maybe she’s brainless”
because how dare they. not everyone is book smart— but that doesn’t give people the right to call you stupid!
“Y/N’s not brainless! she’s kind, helpful, and the sweetest p-person i have ever met. i suggest you take that back!”
in short— it gives him heart palpitations just having to explain things to you, but at the end of the day, it’s all worth it, if he can be with you
»»————- ♡ ————-««
likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!
i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby
do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission
in the moment [hcs]
“they are desperate for help when admirers swarm them, and they choose to seek for your assistance”
fandom/s : 僕のヘロアカデミア // boku no hero academia (bnha)
includes: h. shinsō, k. bakugō, i. midoriya
your name is shortened to y/n, last name is shortened to l/n gender neutral, use of the pretend lover trope, they’re actually pining.
further note: yes i’ve been gone for more than a week, and yes it’s because of school. i promise i’ll be posting more!!
REQUESTS ;; OPEN !!
© IZUKULIE 2021, HORIKOSHI KOHEI OWNS BNHA, DO NOT STEAL ❕
finds it super annoying
and this is coming from him, someone that’s not easy to irritate
he’s conscious and aware that people find him attractive (which for some reason, he still questions why)
eventually, admirers are bound to appear like it or not, but they’re not this insistent as this girl, nope.
shinsō has never experienced something like this, in his entire life.
noriko was a familiar face, but not in the best way for shinsō hitoshi.
she used to be one of those girls that’d band wagon with her opinions. whenever people were hostile towards him
she would be hostile too
but as soon as everyone started finding him attractive, she’d change too.
and it’s.. a mess. what more when he himself is pining on someone that’s not noriko
let alone, a student from class 1-A?
and it’s not like he could brainwash her into leaving him alone
as soon as she would be released by his quirk, she’d tell everyone what he did. therefore, leaving that out of the many solutions
and now he’s backed up into a corner, with her chasing him all across the hallways.
he can only hope for a solution.
— scene —
“this is ridiculous..” taking another turn in the hallway, shinsō mutters to himself quietly, the sleep deprived student can still hear her shrill voice
and by ‘her’, he’s referring to the admirer that has been tailing him down ever since the day had started.
“there are times like this where i wished i didn’t care about looking villainous” is what he’s really thinking. damn quirk stereotypes, and curse him for not having a quirk like iida tenya
“what.. are you doing?” was he lucky, or unlucky? it just so happened to be that he bumped into y/n l/n, out of all people
“i’m in a bit of a situation,” his palm rests against his nape, and he has to hope that you get the message, when noriko’s nearly deafening voice cuts through the air
“you’re quite popular with the ladies, huh?” you joke, and shinsō would’ve laughed if he wasn’t being trailed down.
“as much as i—”
“there you are !” noriko exclaims, slightly out of breath from the insistent chase, “you still haven’t answered !”
“i have, and i said no.” he makes his intentions concrete, compared to earlier (which was a mistake) when he rejected her in the nicest way he could’ve done so, but it wasn’t enough to make her quit.
“well earlier, you’ve said you appreciated it !” the whine pains both of your ears, and you contemplate if you should just grab his hand, and make a run for it.
but, she’d just chase you down again. so maybe not.
“yes, but i also said i can’t accept your feelings.” in instinct, he backs up so he could stand next to you, and he looks at you with his own style of desperation, which was obviously different than noriko’s desperation.
“i happen to be taken.” shinsō claims, hooking his hand along yours. which might’ve been done because he’s desperate, but could’ve been done because he wanted to
getting the motive, you lock away your shock, and play along, accepting his touch.
“i don’t believe you.” noriko blurts, “you two look like best friends more than anything. i’m not stupid !”
you didn’t think it would have to resort to this.
with not much of a thought, you grabbed shinsō by the collar, and smashed your lips together. his lips are warmer than you’ve anticipated, the distinct taste of coffee makes you lean into him further. while at first taken aback, shinsō decides to accept the act by pushing you even closer to him
you let go, deciding it was enough, and when you stare back at noriko, tears dotting at her waterline, and she sputters in humiliation and rejection.
“i never liked you anyway !” she uses as a defense, before storming off. the both of you feel a sense of relief when her figure turns at the end of the hallway
“sorry for kissing you like that. it was kind of in the moment,”
shinsō chuckles, “didn’t expect our first kiss to be like that.”
“well, there are more opportunities to come for you, you’re quite popular.” you tease, and shinsō flicks your forehead in retaliation. in return, you hiss at the sudden sting of pain.
“we’ll have more opportunities when i take you out for lunch on saturday.” he pats you on the shoulder, before he presses a quick real kiss on your cheekbone.
also finds it super annoying. actually, he might as well just fight them and move on.
bakugō knows it well that he’s.. well-known, for all the right and wrong reasons
but what he doesn’t know is that he’s also known for his good looks, rough and boyish in nature.
so eventually, there’ll be that one brave and fearless soul that’ll take one for the team. or even two, or three.
he hates it. doesn’t his aura and demeanor alone scare off all of the suitors?
since when were they super persistent, smh.
it didn’t help that he was trying to drown and suffocate his feelings down the pipeline.
because curse bakugō katsuki for having normal, teenage feelings. he had other important things in life, right?
but he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever confess to him like that
(not that it would happen any time soon. you were too busy being a tough training partner)
but everything aside, he wishes that people would just take the hint already.
because ignoring doesn’t help all the time.
the girl named fumiko would be a dreadful sight he’d be constantly reminded of.
from his shoe locker being flooded with love letters that speak nothing to him, and to the obnoxious commentary on his looks
he’d think that they were just harassing him to get a reaction, but bakugō katsuki will remain unbothered!
but he spoke too soon, because he was approached directly right after his late training session.
bakugō hates it
he hates extras, he hates being outshined, and he hates distractions. what more was there to dislike in the world? everything clearly.
he can handle things properly, and with that tough demeanor of his, and he definitely doesn’t need a quick and easy solution, from the girl that’s glued to his side.
he told himself that a persistent extra is nothing, he can just simply ignore them and look at them, like how he always looks at useless pebbles, and they’d go away. but clearly not this girl
“get off, you fucking extra” he pushes her off, grabbing his water bottle and immediately storming off, but it doesn’t convince fumiko (he learned her name unfortuantely) to finally lay off.
“c’mon katsuki! this would’ve all been over if you just went out with me!”
bakugō can’t hide the cringe on his face, hearing his first name, ugh. he doesn’t know how she found out about his late training sessions, considering that she wasn’t in his class or class 1-b
he doubts that he’d run into anyone at this hour, they’d be all in the common room, and he did say that he wanted all of them to ‘fuck off’. but luck does work in mysterious ways.
“..what’re you doing here?” he questions, clearly surprised by your presence, and his frustration would’ve disappeared at that exact mom“dinner’s almost ready. actually, why do you look so.. alarmed? is there a villain?—”
his palms are starting to sweat, and it’s not because of his training, or because of the girl that won’t leave him alone. “no! fuck no. okay, there’s just some shitty extra that’s been following me around like some obsessed freak.”
you decide to be smug, “i knew there was going to be a brave soul out there, ready to sacrifice themselves.” you rest your hand on your left side, like it was heart warming, but the blond is not amused with your gesture.
“right, right!” you hold your hands up, surrendering. “okay, what do you want me to do?”
“just don’t say a fucking thing.” you can hear foot steps get closer and closer to the both of you, and in a hurry, he pushes you closer to him, the smell of caramel evading your senses.
before you could even say a word, he kisses you. it’s rough, and it makes you feel warm, and it’s definitely not because of his quirk, or because of the large, warm palms that rest against your sides.
you get a grip on him, holding onto his shoulder when you feel your knees buck because of the butterflies in your stomach, and it seems to get worse when bakugō holds you even tighter
“okay geez, i get it. you’re taken!” you can hear the girl exclaim in humiliation and disgust, “ugh, a guy like you wouldn’t be able to handle me anyway.”
and when she finally scurries away, the both of you break the kisses, the wind out of you being knocked out cold from his sudden act of ‘romance’
“i sorta understand the hype now.” you grin, your lips still tingle from the kiss, and you’re convinced that you want more, despite the kiss being out of spite, and for fumiko to back off.
“shut up.” you would’ve laughed at him if it was any other day, but for now, you’re left silent. your heart flutters once more, when his lips press against your cheekbone briefly.
“c’mon, idiot. we’re gonna miss dinner.”
he’s so alarmed, and honestly very scared
he wasn’t popular, or well known to begin with, and people only started treating him like he was a real person in highschool
he’s just so used to being looked at like a background character, or a npc in a video game.
so the sudden swarm of suitors, and people that want to date him shocked him to the core.
he was never treated like this in middle school, or elementary!
it flatters him, and he’s glad that people actually like him. but.. he’d never actually think about being with either of them
because they’re not you, obviously. but wait, what’s so different about you exactly?
well.. you’ve treated him with kindness, even when he looked like this.. really awkward kid that sat at the back of the classroom.
so yeah, he’d never think about accepting anyone else’s confessions, as long as they’re not you
but still, midoriya has treated all of his admirers with kindness, despite not wanting to be with any of them
knowing how it feels to be humiliated, he wouldn’t want to do that on any of them
but.. this one particular girl was one he’d never truly be comfortable with, as much as he’d like to fake it.
rieko was.. something. probably the most persistent one out of all of them.
he would’ve appreciated it, if it weren’t for the fact that she was super obnoxious to other people.
and most importantly, he didn’t understand what she’d get out of it, and it wrecked his nerves!
— scene —
standing next to you, all lined up for lunch, midoriya shifts uncomfortably as he tries his best to ignore the loud and obvious commentary that’s being directed to him.
at first, it was flattering. but now? he just wishes things would go back to the times where people had no interest in him, whatsoever.
he knows what rieko really like him for, and it’s honestly disheartening. the girl would compliment him on things like his looks, and even his new moves!
but as soon as he elaborated on how he did it, the interest would fade away from her eyes
not that it did matter though. midoriya didn’t really have any feelings for any of the people that’ve approached him, wanting to date him. he’s been kind, and they’ve been kind in return, getting the hint and backing off.
the freckled boy was flattered but, not interested
but clearly, rieko didn’t get the message, despite the way midoriya would back away uncomfortably. how he’d immediately excuse himself whenever he’d see the girl.
just.. all signs of disinterest
“go! just ask him already!” he can hear her friends encourage her, but he’s not very enthusiastic to know what they’re cheering her on for
“he won’t be able to resist! just walk right in and do it, you guys will be an attractive couple anyway!”
midoriya’s palms are shaky, and he tries his best to calm his nerves down by clenching his fists. this doesn’t go un-noticed by you.
“you okay, midoriya?” you ask, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and the green haired boy hopes that his cheeks aren’t turning red.
the both of you guys are awfully close! not that he’s complaining, it’s just that—
“is it about them?” you ask in a nearly quiet tone, and midoriya’s aware that you’re talking about them.
“uhm..” midoriya tries to formulate a proper answer, not wanting to sound as bothered as he actually is. how would he be able to explain this? “don’t worry about it,” midoriya reassures, “it’s just—”
“do you think that he’s dating that person? you know, the one beside them?” he hears that the topic of the conversation has shifted, and the group of girls are referring to you.
midoriya wasn’t planning on telling anyone about the dilemma. let alone his crush. it was something he was going to ignore, until the mess calmed down.
but now? you’re roped into it, and his nerves didn’t calm down at all.
“izuku dating them? no, it can’t be. he’s too good for them!”
“that’s the spirit, rieko. you should just go like.. now!”
to him, it’s the other way around. you’re too good for him, and you’re out of his league. so, this comment upsets him to all ends.
he’s pondering on what he should do, and before he could take you out of the line to get food at some other place, he feels something warm enlace his hand.
he slightly shivers when he realizes that it’s your hand he’s holding, cheeks flushed with crimson.
your eyes are ahead, a lot more composed than he is clearly, but if he looked hard enough, he could sense the nervousness in your hold.
“you wanna leave the line, izu?” his first name sounds different when you say it, and he thinks to himself that he prefers it a lot more when it comes from you
“y-yes.” and you smile, pressing your lips against his cheek quickly, before tugging his hand and pulling him out of the line, walking away from the group.
it’s a miracle that he didn’t drop onto the cafeteria’s floors.
you can feel his anxiety subsiding. despite his flushed cheeks remaining, he looks better than he did a few seconds ago, and you’re glad.
deciding the both of you were at a safe distance, you peek over your shoulder. you can see the absolute defeat on rieko’s face, and the scowl on her friends’ faces as they attempted to comfort their heartbroken friend.
“thank you, y/n.”
“no, it’s nothing, really. anyhow, what do you plan on eating for lunch?”
Boyfriend w/ Megumi, Itadori and Gojo
Request: hii I just read your jujutsu nightmares piece and oh my god I am indeed a very simple simp and your writing just makes my heart go uwu so may I maybe req a very soft, fluffy s/o for Megumi, Itadori Sato and maybe Sukuna if you write for him? I hope it's not too much, thank uu <3 - anonymous
I can’t get enough of the JJK content, I love them so much my heart can’t take it. Sadly I don’t write for Sukuna *I think I mention it in my rules but I’m not sure*, he pissed me off big time in the manga so yeah sorry about that. Really all the curses have kinda pissed me off but that’s a story for another day lmao. Love ya.💖💖💖
masterlist II rules
warnings: boyfriend things lol, fluff, maybe some angst sprinkled on top but not a lot.
-Megumi reminds me of Suna from Haikyuu.
-Like a lot.
-He will put effort in the relationship of course but he won’t flaunt it around in everybody’s faces.
-Yes he has a s/o and yes he is in love but in his book that should be mostly kept in between you two, no one else has to know.
-So at first your relationship isn’t really acknowledged by the others.
-It’s so subtle at casual that everyone around you thinks that you’re merely best friends and close to each other.
-Only Makki knows that you two are a thing since she sees how you worry and take care of him after he has been injured.
-It’s different from platonic concern and she knows what’s going on.
-Plus she saw you steal a kiss one time and that sealed the deal.
-Eventually the others figure it out and they are losing their shit, for completely different reasons though.
-Nobara can’t believe Megumi got a s/o before she did.
-Gojo is hurt because neither of you said anything and he has been trying to hook you up for the past two years now.
-Itadori is just confused because he thought that you were like that to everyone.
-Now PDA is non-existent with this one.
-He doesn’t feel comfortable touching you in public even if it’s a small peck.
-He prefers showing his love behind closed doors or through acts of service.
-So expect to find multiple bentos waiting for you in the kitchen each morning or a hot bath on the ready when you come back from a long mission.
-You are okay with the no PDA rule, your only request is that he at least hold your pinkie when you need it.
-It grounds you and who is he to say no to that?
-During missions he doesn’t underestimate your strength and let’s you do your thing.
-He only interferes when you ask for help or when he notices that you’re extremely overwhelmed.
-He doesn’t smother you and you are eternally grateful for that.
-Training sessions between the both of you are brutal.
-Neither holds back and you're left a panting, sweating mess at the end, crawling to your respective rooms to change before you settle for a movie later that afternoon.
-If either of you gets injured it’s mama bear time.
-You need to change your bandages? Megumi has already taken out the kit and all the essentials.
-He needs to take some meds to calm the pain in his ribcage? You have the pills in hand.
-He is a shy boy so even in private he hesitates to touch you.
-Don’t get him wrong he loves holding you and feeling you close to him but he is also afraid he will make you uncomfortable or overstep.
-So you will be the one initiating cuddle session during the first months of your relationship.
-After a while he will simply pick you up and carry you to his bed for cuddles if he needs them without uttering a word the whole time.
-Good morning/Goodnight kisses are a must.
-It’s a ground rule that he follows religiously since day one.
-It doesn’t matter if it’s a simple peck on his lips or a passionate kiss, he just wants to get a kiss before starting/ending the day.
-Sleeps on his stomach with an arm always draped over your waist.
-Isn’t really into the whole sleeping on each other thing but he won’t say no to being the big spoon or even better the little spoon.
-He gets flustered when you kiss his knuckles or trace patterns on his palms.
-He knows his hands are rough from all the training but after your touch they feel tender and gentle.
-Prefers indoor dates rather than outdoor ones.
-His favorite is cooking dinner together and then cuddling on the couch *in hopes you won’t get interrupted by Gojo*.
-The only thing he dislikes about the whole relationship thing is the teasing he receives from Gojo.
-He is ready to rip his ears off.
-Boy has murder on his mind 24/7 and it is all directed to his mentor.
-Gojo noticed that Megumi had you as his wallpaper ONCE and now it’s game over for your boyfriend.
-The thing is that you don’t get teased as much and he is *salty*.
-He is such a lovable boy, how could you NOT fall in love with him?
-Your relationship is naturally effortless.
-Everything flows so naturally and without even trying you two have formed such an unbreakable bond that not even Sukuna himself can tether even if he tried.
-Many MANY spontaneous trips to the nearest convenience store at 3 am.
-Oh you are craving some popcorn? Well go on, get your shoes, we are going grocery shopping.
-Won’t hesitate to do anything for you and when I say anything I mean it.
-He ditched Gojo once because you had bad period pains and said you needed cuddles.
-What cruel creature would he be if he denied his beautiful girlfriend her cuddles???
-Sukuna has cockblocked you two and has ruined your cuddles on multiple occasions.
-From weird noises to rude comments to interrupting Yuuji’s thoughts with random shit.
-Real party crasher.
-Yuuji’s love language is touch mainly so expect a shit load of hugs and kisses.
-Won’t let go of your hand while you are out in public.
-If he can’t hold your hand he will place his palm in the small of your back or wrap his arm around your shoulders/waist.
-It’s a physical need.
-He has to be touching you at all times because that reminds him that you are truly here beside him and that you are okay.
-The sorcerer's life has already taken a toll on his mentality and he hates leaving you alone so most of the time you go on conjoined missions.
-Unlike Megumi he tries to protect you during fights by all means.
-He doesn’t do it because he sees you as weak and in need of protection it’s just an instinct that he can’t control at all.
-He will put himself in immense danger, taking all the blows just so you can leave the scene unscathed.
-You have scolded him on his complete disregard of his own life and the tears that pooled in his eyes as he explained that his body moves on its own when he sees anything darting towards you, breaks your heart.
-If you kiss the little marks under his eyes all his worries fly out the nearest window.
-He forgets about everything around him, about the looming threat of his imminent execution, the only thing on his mind are your lips on his cheekbones and your thumbs rubbing circles on his cheeks.
-If you pepper him in too many kisses he will begin his own assault by first tackling you to the floor or the bed and capturing you in a hug before the smooches begin.
-He has a tendency to leave hickies on your neck which you struggle to cover each morning and you are always real close to glaring at him when he beams like the sun itself at you in the morning but your mild anger fades the moment his lips meet yours.
-You have your suspicions that he knows what he is doing with that, he knows his kisses make you weak so he uses them to his advantage.
-Will never admit it but it always places a small smirk on his lips every time you clutch his shirt for balance or rest your forehead on his shoulder to regain your composure.
-An I love you a day is required for good vibes.
-Won’t hesitate to shout it even in front of others, he just has no filter and no shame.
-Makes you turn tomato red and he snickers.
-Fuck him, literally.
-This fucking tease.
-He has no chill!!!!!!
-How are you with him?!?!?!?!!
-My man fine af and he drinks his respect for y/n and y/n alone juice every morning.
-That doesn’t mean though he won’t try to fluster you throughout the day.
-It’s his main goal really.
-Full blown make out sessions in the hallways of the school, ass smacks in front of others and trying to leave hickies on your neck during your lunch break.
-It simultaneously pisses you off and turns you on so you can’t decide if you should smack him or jump his bones.
-It’s a never ending debate and his chances of getting the quawk quawk 5000 are 50/50.
-He respects your boundaries when you give him a sign that you really don’t want him to be like that on certain days.
-He is a very observant individual in general so it’s not hard for him to take note of the signs of pure discomfort or awkwardness.
-True he loves flustering you but the moment things get out of hand and you don’t feel okay with how he is acting, he is throwing his attitude out the window and becomes respectful Gojo in a flash.
-Likes having his arm draped over your shoulder.
-He is super tall so chances are he towers over you.
-He has used you like an armrest several times which resulted to a trip to Shoko for a dislocated wrist/shoulder.
-You make him bentos almost everyday and he waits for them like a lost puppy.
-No matter the time, he doesn’t care if he is late, he will wait for you to make him a little bento to take with him.
-Curses can wait, he needs to receive his first dose of y/n love of the day.
-Brags to his student about you and to Nanami, much to the blonde’s dismay.
-Talks everyone’s ear off.
-He becomes super protective when an elder shows up or at the mere mention of them.
-He will grasp your hand, keeping a firm grip as those pretentious fucks stare down at you.
-They really don’t care about Sato’s happiness and they will never show you a fiber of respect despite being chosen by the strongest sorcerer.
-You are not part of one of the three clans so you are worth nothing in their eyes.
-Gojo hates them for that.
-Deep rooted hatred that could turn into a mass murder if one of them call you a distraction or a slut one more time.
-You are really grateful for him in those moments.
-You are grateful in general but during those times when you are being bombared left and right with rude comments, he will remind everyone in the room that he doesn’t give a flying fuck about what they believe.
-He fell in love with you because you are your beautiful self and not because you are a powerful sorcerer.
-He wants to imagine your kids as a sign of your love and not as an item of power, as a weapon like many of these people see him.
-He has ditched the elder meetings on many occasions just because he wasn’t in the mood of listening to their bullshit so he came home to you and spent the rest of his night cuddled up under the large comforter, watching a movie while peppering your shoulders with kisses.
-Adores seeing you in his clothes.
-They are so big on you that you wear them as dresses around the house.
-He especially loves the sight of your bare legs peeking from underneath his black t-shirt.
-99% of the time this ends up in you getting your guts rearranged.
-Surprisingly remembers all the important dates and he makes it to as many dates as he can.
-Being a sorcerer is difficult man, give him a break curses he has a date at 8 and he needs to get his formal glasses.
-All in all he loves you to the moon and back and would do anything to keep you safe and next to him.
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HAIKYUU!! COUPLES HEADCANONS
-Daichi goes to the gym to work out. Suga goes to the gym to ogle Daichi
-Suga has a massive sweet tooth
-Daichi cooks, Suga cleans
-Suga is a little shit who is not above seducing Daichi in public. He can say the most lewd things without batting an eye while Daichi blushes furiously
-Daichi and Kuroo once hooked up at training camp. They do not talk about it
-Daichi is good friends with Michimiya and Kiyoko. Suga is closer to Asahi
-Daisuga rarely fight and are often asked for relationship advice. Daichi tries to discourage this because “guys I didn’t realize Yui had a crush on me or that Suga was in love with me for three years.”
-Daichi can’t dance, won’t dance, and refuses to acknowledge the time he got trashed and twerked
-Suga dislikes his given name unless it’s said by Daichi, who is the only person allowed to call him Koushi
-Suga is extremely flexible. Daichi is not.
-Daichi or Suga getting hit on makes Daichi uncomfortable. Getting hit on amuses Suga, and Daichi getting hit on makes him horny
-It took all of high school for Daisuga to get together, because Daichi is oblivious and Suga assumed Daichi wasn’t into him. Daichi’s dumbness and their mutual pining becomes a fond, shared joke several years later
-Daichi has no gag reflex.
-Daisuga have a very fat, very orange cat named Ninja. He’s surprisingly fast and agile despite looking like a furry basketball. (Daichi is a dog person and did not even want Ninja at first. He suspects Kuroo had something to do with this. Suga sometimes playfully gets upset because “Ninja likes you better than me, Dai!”)
-Everyone expects Suga to be the dominant one but Suga is more than willing to be submissive for Daichi and has on several occasions
-Noya gets up before sunrise to run. Asahi would rather die than leave his bed before 8am
-Noya turns the coffee pot on and cooks breakfast to lure Asahi out of bed
-Noya is surprisingly patient, gentle, quiet, and kind when it comes to Asahi and his insecurities
-Noya is the type to bottle his insecurities and fears until they explode. The only one who can calm him back down is Asahi
-Asahi makes bratty faces when he thinks Noya isn’t looking
-Noya and Tanaka spend a lot of time with Daisuga because of the Daichi&Suga&Asahi&Kiyoko friendship. Asahi and Ennoshita become good friends
-Asahi doesn’t understand the distance between Noya and his sisters because Asahi is very close to his
-It is impossible to embarrass Noya
-Asahi gets a lot of inspiration for his fashion designs from traveling with Noya
-Noya knows how to braid hair and likes to play with Asahi’s
-Asahi enjoys physical affection but dislikes overt PDA. Noya would happily climb Asahi like a tree in public if Asahi would let him
-Only Asahi calls Noya by his given name
-Noya knows he likes Asahi early on but Asahi’s panic (“omg someone LIKES me?? NOYA likes me?? My crush??”) at his confession prevent them getting together until after the Date Tech match (after Asahi rejoins the team).
-Noya is affected by wanderlust and that’s why he travels. Sometimes Asahi joins him. They get married in Canada during one of these trips. (I once read a fantastic asanoya fic where a significant event happened in Canada so Canada is my asanoya place now)
-Noya sends Asahi a postcard from every place he’s ever visited. Sometimes he’ll spend over half an hour trying to find the *best* one, only to buy them all and send them as a sort of big long letter. Asahi saves them all in a photo album that lives on the coffee table. (Some people have a coffee table book, Asahi has a photo album.)
-Noya prefers to top. The one thing he’s really uncomfortable with is being on the bottom (physically laying beneath someone and also sex).
-Kuroken have a black cat and a calico and enjoy naps on the couch with the kitties. Kuroo has SO MANY pictures in his phone of Kenma curled around the kitties.
-Kuroo: “Love you.” Kenma: “Hate you.”
-Kenma CAN cook, but likes that Kuroo likes taking care of him
-Every game Kuroo has ever owned is multiplayer because he only games with Kenma
-Kenma’s favorite games involve critical thinking and puzzles. Kuroo enjoys watching him play
-Kuroo is an introvert masquerading as an extrovert. Kenma is an introvert. They enjoy quiet nights in.
-Kuroo has anxiety. Kenma always knows when Kuroo is anxious and how to fix it
-People make Kenma anxious. Kuroo makes himself anxious.
-Kenma’s nicknames for Kuroo are Kuro and Koroemon. Kuroo calls Kenma Kyanma and kitten
-Kuroo has been in love with Kenma for as long as he can remember, since they were kids. Kenma knows this, but doesn’t understand he feels the same way until Kuroo goes off to college
-Kuroo is the one who discovered Daichi’s lack of gag reflex. He’s delighted to learn that Kenma lacks one as well
-Kenma moves more slowly than Kuroo. He’s not as comfortable with physical affection and sex as Kuroo is. Their relationship progresses slowly, and Kuroo lets Kenma lead.
-After Kenma’s confession, how he feels about Kuroo is one of the very few things Kuroo does not doubt or make himself anxious over.
-Kuroo can, will, and has go(ne) on and on and ON about Kenma until someone shuts him up. It drives Yaku up the fucking wall in high school.
-Kenma does a retro game stream once or twice a month made up of games he and Kuroo used to play as kids. Kuroo actually games with him on those days and Kenma’s followers are quick to notice and speculate because Kenma has literally never gamed with another person in the same room before. Sometimes Kenma can only post the actual gameplay because Kuroo ruined the footage of them by being excessively sappy. (Kuroo is NOT above flirting and dirty talk to get an edge and Kenma doesn’t really think his fans need to know that.)
-Kuroken do not talk about Kuroo’s mom or sister
-The Kozumes love “Tetsu-chan” and Kuroo’s grandparents adore Kenma. Kuroken get along with each other’s families better than they do their own.
-Kuroo is tactile. He’s that ass-slapping friend. Kenma thinks he’s ridiculous
-Kuroo used to be dislike Hinata, because Kenma and Hinata are extremely good friends and Kuroo was afraid Hinata would take Kenma away from him. Kenma has assured him he doesn’t like Hinata like that but Kuroo doesn’t warm up until Hinata starts dating Kageyama
-Akaashi is 100% in charge of the house and the financials and his word is law. Not because he’s an asshole but because Bokuto is whipped
-Akaashi is a screamer. Bokuto has a big dick.
-Bokuto is the calmest between him and his sisters. His sisters have formed an Akaashi fanclub
-Bokuaka kiss a lot during sex
-Bokuto fucking loves owls
-Akaashi used to be embarrassed over being a manga editor but Bokuto thinks it’s the coolest job ever, “even better than mine!” When his authors need references, Akaashi sends them pictures of Bokuto. Bokuto takes this responsibility very seriously
-Bokuaka exclusively refer to each other by first name but Akaashi can’t break the habit of using -san
-Akaashi and Kenma are very good friends. Bokuto thinks they might even be better bros than him and Kuroo. (Kenma is one of the few people Akaashi calls by first name, and one of the only people who calls Akaashi by his.)
-Akaashi overthinks as a result of anxiety, but he doesn’t think he has anxiety. He prefers to call it “seeing the issue from all sides”
-Akaashi and Bokuto do yoga together. Bokuto behaves himself surprisingly well around Akaashi in yoga pants
-Akaashi decided to attend Fukurodani after watching Bokuto play and literally for no other reason
-Bokuaka are the embodiment of love at first sight and their relationship has an unreal, almost storybook quality to it because they are literally perfect for each other. Because of this, Bokuto doesn’t understand why other people struggle so much to start and maintain a relationship, no matter how many times Kuroo tells him “just because your relationship is straight out of a movie doesn’t mean the rest of the world works like that”
-Bokuaka have a koi pond in their backyard and have named all the fish. Bokuto always asks about them when he’s away for games
-Iwaizumi cooks and cleans because he’s always been the one taking care of Oikawa, but he refuses to fold the laundry because “I’m not doing everything for you, you fucking freeloader”
-Iwaizumi cooks healthy “old man food.” Oikawa’s sweet tooth suffers
-Oikawa is that guy who puts more cream and sugar and other additives in his coffee than actual coffee. He’s tried all of Starbucks’ seasonal drinks and never gets the same thing twice
-Iwaoi have very heated arguments about if Godzilla can kick King Kong’s ass or not. Iwaizumi of course sides with Godzilla
-Iwaoi once fought about the original purpose of Stonehenge and now no one can mention England without it coming back up
-Oikawa only became comfortable with his glasses because Iwaizumi likes them
-Iwaoi have been friends since they were in diapers. The whole volleyball team took bets on when they’d announce their relationship
-Both the Oikawas and the Iwaizumis respond when either boy calls for mom or dad. Oikawa calls his sister Nee-chan while Iwaizumi says Oneesan
-Iwaizumi’s favorite of Oikawa’s features is his legs. Oikawa is in love with Iwa’s arms
-Neither of them can remember when they started liking each other or how their relationship started
-Iwaoi are shockingly codependent and do NOT do separation (during university in Argentina/California or for away games) well
-Deep down Oikawa is extremely insecure and worries he isn’t enough - in volleyball, in school, in his family, in his relationship. Iwaizumi always knows when he’s putting on a front and how to cheer him back up
-Iwaizumi is secretly so soft and weak for Oikawa
-After the Olympics Iwaizumi moves to Argentina to be with Oikawa and they get married. They move back to Japan after Oikawa retires from volleyball and after gay marriage becomes legal there
-Oikawa keeps various plants around the house and the patio and is extremely proud of them. He paints all their pots and even names some of them (which Iwaizumi thinks is disgustingly cute). His most prized plant is a lucky bamboo he bought on a whim when iwaoi first moved in together.
-Oikawa can’t deepthroat. It makes him so jealous that Iwaizumi can
-Iwaizumi blushes whenever Oikawa gives him a genuine compliment
-Iwaizumi has a praise kink. Oikawa has a “whatever comes out of Iwa’s mouth” kink
-Iwaizumi has dom tendencies.
Carol Danvers ~ Infuriating
Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut
Word count: 8,016
Includes: dom!Carol, captain kink, brat taming, choking, degrading, fingering, edging, nipple clamps, clit clamp, thigh riding, spanking enhanced with powers, vibrator enhanced with powers, strap-on gagging and choking, strap-on sex and overstimulation
[ masterlist ]
Buy me a coffee ☕
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
You hadn't meant to fuck up Carol's mission. You weren't that petty. But the look on her face when you disobeyed her direct order and took the shot was priceless.
You and Carol had never gotten on. The first time you laid eyes on her you were infuriated by her actions. The second time you met only amplified that.
You had been under cover for a year when she came along and screwed up your mission. It had taken a long time to be trusted by those you 'worked with'.
You had set up a buy with a huge advanced (and crazy irresponsible) weapons smuggling ring that would lead to you obtaining more of their weapons for SHIELD until eventually, hopefully, you would figure out the secrets to their operation and be able to take down the business.
Just as the dealers arrived at the abandoned warehouse Carol came flying in to take on the armed men, oblivious to the mission that was happening, in all her heroic glory.
"We got the weapons, it was a success."
After writing out the report and having a long convosation with Fury (most of which involved you describing Carol in ways Steve would have been outraged by) you had at least expected an apology from the blonde. You could still remember how that went down.
"It was not a success!" You almost screamed at Carol. It infuriated you to no end that after half an hour of talking she still didn't see the bigger picture. She really thought she had done the right thing.
"Yes we got the weapons - something I could have done on my own - but that's such a small part of the rest of what they're making."
"You don't know how much there is." Carol said, her voice as calm as ever as she leant against Fury's desk with her arms crossed.
"That's the point." You said through gritted teeth, determined not to loose your cool infront of her and Fury. "My mission was to find out and put a stop to it."
"There are guys in holding. They'll talk."
You almost laughed at that. "If I could ask them my way they definitely would." You silently cursed SHIELD's moral codes that stopped you from torturing the answer out of them. They wouldn't talk any other way.
"They'll talk." Carol said stubbornly. "And anyway, you should be thanking me for cutting your mission short."
And that was it. From that moment on you couldn't look at the woman without wanting to slap her. That had been months ago.
Despite you never hiding your dislike for Carol she never seemed to mind you. In fact, she tried to be around any chance she could. Always looking for ways to get on your final nerve, everything she did she did for your reactions that you had grown worse at suppressing.
You took some of it out on her during training. It bothered her but thrilled you that you too were on the same level in combat. Apart from the times she was a sore looser and used her powers.
But you had made a strong effort to avoid training with her too. She taunted you during fighting. Although you were used to it it struck different when her body was pressed against yours to pin you to the floor.
Your most shameful day was when her actions had sent a jolt to your core that you couldn't deny.
Carol looked down at you with an insanely arrogant smirk as she straddled your waist. She was always like this in her moments of victory, always wanting to rub it in.
"Wow, you gave in quickly today." She quipped, not even trying to hide the obvious undertones. That didn't even make sense!
You weren't about to give in when she looked so god damn smug. You gripped her shirt with two hands and lifted your hips to flip her off but she caught on both too quickly and too late. She lurched forward into your grip but instantly pinned your hands above your head as her legs fell down next to yours.
Your breath hitched in your throat when you realised her face was inches from your own, it was only then that you become aware of the darker specs of brown in her eyes that highlighted the lighter shades. They were beau- okay. They were okay eyes. Yours were better.
The corner of her mouth raised in her familiar smirk that you always despised. But being that close brought light to how soft her lips looked. They were slightly parted and you wondered what kind of things she could do with that mouth. Professional things of course. Strictly professional and tactical thing. Not sinful things at all...
You wanted those thoughts banished from your head immediately. You wanted to leave.
All too hastily, you tried to raise your hips again, only then noticing how Carol's new position had her core right over yours. The contact and friction was undeniable, as was the slow throbbing that started.
A quiet moan slipped from your mouth that you desperetly coughed to cover up. You turned your head to the side, not wanting to see if Carol had noticed.
"Get off me, Carol." You huffed, trying to hide your embarrassment.
"What? You don't like me ontop of you?" She smirked.
God you definetly did.
As much as you tried to ignore that memory and replace it with the time you were first introduced you rarely succeeded. And even then it was like your hatred for her only encouraged how much you wanted to feel her deep insi-
"Are you even listening to me?!" Carol yelled at you with a glare. You never zoned out during meetings. Carol knew that. Fury knew that. Yet it was still very clear you just had.
"Are you done rambling?" You quipped, not having a moment to place the filter over your mouth as the thought spilled out.
Fury arched a brow at the question and Carol's jaw clenched in an annoyingly attractive way. You did not regret that one bit.
"If I hadn't taken the shot the hostages would have died."
"They almost did anyway."
There had been some sort of detonator with the man holding the hostages. Once dead, the storage he had loaded into his truck had been destroyed and nothing was salvageable. That was important cargo, but you always put a priority on lives. Taking the bad ones more than saving the good ones admittedly.
Once a vigilante always a vigilante.
"I don't think you understand how valuable that cargo was."
The meeting continued like that for a while. You would never admit it to anyone, especially as fucking up the mission wasn't intentional, but seeing how the tables had turned from the last time the three of you were in that office? It made you happier than it should have.
You guessed the two of you were even now. Maybe she would finally leave you alone. Your happiness faulted at that thought.
Finally, Fury told you and Carol to go and that it would be discussed again tomorrow. He was clearly tired. It had been a long day and it was late, everyone else was already asleep.
Even as you trudged down the hallway Carol continued to rant about your inability to follow orders. You would be the first to admit you weren't a team player. You still weren't used to it. But you always follow orders.
"I can follow orders, Captain. I just choose not to follow yours." You said calmly as approached the hallway towards your room.
You hated that Carol's room was next to yours. You had been there when Carol had talked to Tony about staying at the Avengers compound. You had seen her sly smirk as she pointed out on the compound map which room she wanted. Knowing full damn well it was next to yours.
How long did she plan to keep this up? You definetly didn't bug her about her screw up as long as she was you. Why couldn't she just hold the grudge in silence like you?
"You put aside personal matters when you go on a mission, y/n." She continue to scorn.
"Not personal, Captain. I just know when a decision and order is bullshit." Your room finally came into your line of sight. Just a few more meters.
"It wasn't bullshit. It was the right call. You just refuse to do what I tell you to." You rolled your eyes at her insistence, something that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde.
"The whole thing would have been fucked if I followed your orders. You should be thanking me." You taunted with a smile. But before you could fully bathe in your victory of getting under her skin, Carol gripped your neck tightly and slammed you into the wall.
You eyes widened as your back hit the wall painfully and you struggled to comprehend that Carol's hand was really around your neck...and you liked it.
"What? Got nothing to say to your Captain now?" She smirked. A familiar jolt travelled throughout your body and rested between your legs at her words.
It wasn't hard to put two and two together. Her hand, her words and the tone that accompanied them. You could always tell Carol was a top, but a dom?!
"If I could go back..." You started, your voice quiet with an edge of fear that made Carol preen. "And do the mission again...." Carol watched your face intently, awaiting your words of apology. "I still wouldn't follow your orders. Because I don't take orders from yo-" Carol stepped forward and forced one of her legs between yours.
You bit you lip to stop yourself moaning at the friction she was causing, the urge to grind against her leg was strong.
"Brat." She whispered with poison dripping from her voice. Her warm breath hit the small area of skin her hand wasn't covering and her hair tickled you chin.
"I have just the thing to deal with that. You wont be keeping up that facade for long."
You were about to object and assure her you would. That your stubbornness was just as strong as hers and you had been down this road before with others.
As she moved away from you she gripped your shirt in her closed fist and pulled you away from the wall with her. You hated that you instantly missed the contact of her thigh between yours. But her rough nature was doing it for you too. It had been so long since someone had been rough with you and you yearned to feel that again.
Carol had barely opened her door when she pushed you through the gap into her room. You were about to take in your surroundings and even pause to assess what was happening, but Carol's hands were on you again and all doubt slipped from your mind.
The next thing you knew your face was engulfed by soft pillows before you felt Carol's strong presence above you.
You could feel her knees on either side of your waist, pressed against you as though caging you beneath her. Her hands entwined with the back of your own and held them above your head under the pillows.
You went to move your hips up out of instinct from your training but Carol was too strong. She didn't even flinch from you efforts, clearly overpowering you in strength.
You reminded yourself you would not, under any circumstances, let Carol win.
You wouldn't apologise for the mission, wouldn't do what she said and you would not fully submit to her. It was something you truly believed, Carol knew this and it made everything you eventually did all the more worthit.
You could never imagine or anticipate the things you would let her do to you that night or the desperate way you would beg her to do them.
Her hair tickled your exposed neck as she leant down to whisper into your ear. "Anything you want to say to me before I begin? Perhaps an apology?" Carol questioned, knowing you would say no such thing but wanting to have more ammunition for later on.
You chuckled into the pillows before replying. "Go fuck yourself." It was muffled. But Carol understood.
She didn't reply verbally, instead she leant further against your body as her hands left yours and wandered down your arms.
Carol inhaled the scent around your neck as her hands reached your shoulders and decended to trace your collarbones that were visible from your shirt being lowered.
The blonde took her time memorizing every inch of your body, especially cupping your clothed breasts in her hands and ever so slightly grinding herself against you as she did so.
You reminded yourself to control your breathing as you felt those motions, not allowing yourself to be caught up in the firm grip of her hands against your breasts or the way she used your body to gain some friction to her core.
Her hands continued to massage your lower stomach, admiring the feel of your finally formed abs in a way she never could when you trained.
You kept your head amongst the pillows when her fingers danced around the waistband of your trousers. You didn't want Carol to see the anticipating look on your face at the touch of her fingers. They barely dipped half an inch beneath your trousers and panties but the contract gave you chills. You wanted to feel her against your bare skin more.
Carol retracted her fingers and instead wordlessly moved them to the centre of your trousers and unbuttoned them. You could hear her pull your zip down in the deafening silence of the room and you found yourself holding your breath in anticipation again.
She didn't hesitate once in her movements. With undeniable certainty, Carol slipped her hand under your trousers and panties to meet the space between your legs that welcomed her.
Carol sighed into the crook your neck as her fingers met your wetness between your slick lips. You bit your lip to stop any sounds escaping your mouth as the arrogant hero swiped a single finger slowly through your eager folds. She collected the arousal on her fingers before pressing it firmly to your clit.
Your hips rolled into her hand before you could stop them and the action caused a smug grin from Carol that although you couldn't see, you could feel against your skin. It was considerably worse and amplified your arousal as Carol could tell.
You hated feuling her ego. You hated that she had made you so wet your throbbing clit would slip around her fingers when she had barely touched you.
"Such a wet little brat. You're so ready for me and I've barely touched you." Carol husked as her finger continued to alter between running through your folds and rubbing your clit lightly.
It took every ounce of self control in your body not to squirm against her or make any noise. Your pride helped you keep those actions at bay.
Carol gripped your chin with her free hand and turned your head away from the pillow. You tried to avoid making eye contact with the blonde, knowing it would make your self control waver, but her hand continued to guide your line of sight to her enchanting gaze.
Her face was so close to yours you were completely caught off guard when Carol's finger pushed inside you and was engulfed by your lower lips with ease.
You bit your lip hard at the action, still staring into Carol's eyes and refusing to be the one to look away first. The intense eye contact did you no favours in holding off your verbal signs of arousal, especially when her single digit curled to brush your most pleasurable spot.
You gave a breathy moan when Carol held her finger against your g-spot for a long moment before withdrawing it, your eyes marginally widening as you adjusted to the pleasure, something Carol wouldn't have noticed if your faces weren't so close.
Her finger pushed back in at a slow pace but always stroked the back of your pussy in an angelic way.
You moaned louder when Carol returned with two fingers, the additional surface area made the experience all the more pleasurable and you feared how quickly you would cum.
Carol studied your facial expressions as she fingered you slowly, figuring out the spots that made you preen in pleasure the most and even the best angles to approach it.
It didn't take her long to understand the eb and flow of your pussy better than anyone ever had. With this powerful knowledge, Carol's pace suddenly increased in an overwhelming way you could barely adjust to.
She fucked you hard and fast with her fingers. Her wrist twisted in the most agile ways that caused her fingers to burry deep within you.
You moaned continuously as you stared into Carol's brown eyes you were beginning to remember better than your own.
The pleasure was immense and you knew your orgasm would hit you hard. Your breathing became rapid and your walls clenched down on Carol's fingers desperetly as your body prepared for your release.
Carol's fingers increased in pace as she gripped your chin harder, ensuring you look at her as her smirk finally returned.
Just as you were about to explode around Carol's fingers she retracted them from your throbbing pussy and brought them up to her lips as she grinned at you.
"Carol!" You protested in disbelief and annoyance.
"What? You didn't really think I would let you cum so soon did you? You haven't earned the right. Unless, of course, you'd like to make an apology." Carol said as her eyes bore deep into yours.
"Like hell I will." You groaned.
Carol clicked her tongue in disapproval before finally looking away from you. Her fingers returned to your waistband, only this time she pulled your trousers down swiftly, deliberately leaving your soaking panties clinging to you.
She then got off the bed and strolled confidently towards her walk in closet for a few seconds, returning with a few pieces of metal you weren't surprised to be seeing yet still gave you goosebumps. Carol's keen eyes seemed to notice this and she grinned knowingly to herself.
You shifted onto your side to get a clearer view of the devices attached to the long silver chain, once Carol reached your side she roughly forced your shoulder down so you were laying on your back.
"You're very pushy you know?" You quipped as Carol moved to straddle you hips and placed the metal beside you.
Her jaw clenched tightly in annoyance of your words but she didn't look at you, instead running her hands along your lower abdomen beneath your shirt. Seeing her frustration at you, especially the slight heavy exhale through her nose very few would notice, helped you control the urge to shiver under Carol's touch.
"I hope you can do other things with that mouth of yours besides bitching, for your own sake." Carol said lowly before gripping the end of your shirt and pulling it over your head.
"It can work wonders," you winked at her with a grin, "and it's nice to know you care, Captain, not just a big, mean, dom I see."
Carol's hand wrapped tightly around your throat just as you finished your sentence. She glared at you with clear rage in her eyes, a look that made putting up your hard front difficult. You had a strong urge to apologise, but you instead pushed it aside.
"If you think for one moment I'm going to go ease on you at any point you are sadly mistaken, brat. I'm not done with you until you're a begging, quivering, pathetic mess that's forgotten her own name and only knows her Captain. Even then I won't take any pity because of the shit you keep pulling. Whores dont deserve sympathy." Your breathing was shaky as the words dripped from her mouth laced with poison, threatening to be the end of you.
You were made acutely aware of her grip of your neck tightening and her ability to cut it off and never let you breathe again. You weren't sure at what point you had given over all control, but you didn't want it to stop.
Carol leaned in next to your ear and her scent enveloped your sences again. Her voice had dropped considerably when she next spoke her whispered words. "I can't wait to break you." She bit down on your ear harshly making you yelp. You couldn't deny the effect she was having on your body, she could see it too. Of course she could, she was playing you like a fiddle and there was nothing you could do about it. It was a thrilling realisation.
Carol pulled away from you slowly while you tried to return your breathing to it's normal pace. It wasn't until you heard Carol's deep chuckled that you realised that your eyes were clenched shut. You opened them to see the blonde looking very proud of herself and the result she had gotten.
You couldn't make another witty remark. Your brain couldn't form any kind of coherent thought and you wouldn't have trusted your mouth to deliver it. Besides, after what Carol had just said, you were afraid to speak out of term again.
The self-certain hero reached around your back to unclasp your bra as her other hand came to rest on your stomach, pressing down as she used it for support while she leant forward.
Carol's eyes eagerly took in every inch of your skin the moment it was exposed. She slowly pulled your bra away before flinging it across the room without taking her eyes off of your breasts.
The cold air hitting your skin made your nipples strain in a want for attention, although you and Carol both knew that wasn't the only reason. Carol hummed at the sight and leaned forward again to rub your buds between her thumb and fingers. Your head leant back into the pillows at the attention, sighing in bliss before you hissed sharply at the the spark of pain.
The blonde smiled in amusement as she continued to pinch your nipples harshly, you didn't protests out of stubbornness.
Carol then picked up the forgotten clamps next to you, trailing the chain slowly and deliberately over your sensitive skin. She attached the left clamp with a silent concentration that filled the room with tension. You hissed again as Carol adjusted the screw to the level she saw fit, which was scarily tight, before moving to the next with the same accuracy.
You closed your eyes and tried not to enjoy the throbbing pain on you nipples, but the growing slick between your legs was telling enough.
You closed your eyes and bit your lip hard to suppress a whimper, failing when Carol gave the chain a quick tug that made you give a strained whimper that sounded more pathetic than it would have if you hadn't tried to stop it.
Carol moved further down your body and spread your legs apart so she could sit between them. You could feel the chain extending down your stomach so you opened your eyes in confusion and instantly squirmed.
The two clamps had separate chains that looped around a small ring that lay on your stomach, twinkling mischeviously in the light. There was a third chain on the bottom of the ring that had a clamp at the end of it. A clamp that Carol was guiding dangerously close to your still covered core.
You had had experience with clamps before, but the thought of one pinching painfully at your throbbing clit was one you were unfamiliar and uncertain with.
Carol adjusted herself according to your newfound protests to kneeling on your legs, each knee digging into each of your thighs as a show of control. Your hands were still free and just as you were about to sit up Carol spoke with a fake pout.
"Aww, do you not think you can handle this? Are you too sensitive?" She mocked making you freeze. "I can always stop if you want me to. All you have to do is say the magic word." The blonde continued to taunt.
Your pride screamed at you to make some snarky remark as to protect your ego, knowing saying 'please' would lead to you spiralling down the rabbit hole you refused to step foot in, while your fear begged you to stay quiet. But there was also a small part of you that was eager to experience the pleasurable pain the clamp would surely deliver to your clit.
So instead, you kept your mouth shut and stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep an eye on Carol in your peripheral while appearing to ignore her.
She smirked, unbeknownst to you, at your pettiness and trailed a single finger against the wet patch on your panties. You struggled to continue looking at the ceiling and bucked your hips to try and meet Carol's hand.
Surprisingly, Carol let you and even pressed further against your panties, rubbing your clothed lips and relishing in the effect she had on you.
Carol teased you like that for a while, rubbing her finger against your soaking folds before circling your throbbing clit. Every so often she received a quiet whine from you that flooded you with embarrassment, hating how your body betrayed you and pleased Carol.
Finally, Carol pulled your ruined panties down and gleamed at the sight of your glistening folds, the view making her pussy clench around nothing and ache more than it had all night. An idea sprung to mind and she smirked at the thought.
She took the third clamp between her long fingers and pinched at your clit. You yelped and bucked your hips up again as Carol entrapped the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"So responsive." She muttered, more to herself than you, as she slowly twisted the screw. Her eyes returned to your pained face as she adjusted the tightness, studying you to see when you would reach the peak of your pain and your limit.
Your face scrunched up at the sharp pain that jolted throughout your body and made you whine lowly as you turned your head to the side and tried to squirm away.
Carol took another glance at your strained bud, biting her lip at the sight, before gripping your under arms and flipped you onto your back.
You were surprised and caught off guard but all questions flew from your mind when you were pushed against the mattress, the clamps pressing down and amplifying your pain.
A tear formed in your eye as your nipples burned hot in pain and your clit ached against its restraint. You whined and tried to squirm away, the inch you did move only made things worse as your dragged the clamps and the skin they pinched across the mattress. You gave a small cry at the pain but pushed your face into the pillows to muffle it, still trying with everything you had to not let Carol win.
You were so caught up in the unnatural pain you didn't even notice Carol stripping herself of her jeans and pants. But you did notice when you felt her wet pussy lips come into contact with the back of your thigh.
You brain short circuited when you felt how wet she was and that she was slowly rocking herself on your leg, using your body to get herself off.
"What are you-"
"Quiet." Carol cut you off by demanding as her hands locked yours to the top of the mattress again.
Her arousal was spreading across your thigh as she grinded against you.
You could feel your own breathing increase rapidly as you heard Carol gasp out occasionally. You wanted to see her. You wanted to see the look of pleasure on her face as she approached her high. What did she look like cuming? Did you feel good against her? Would she ever let you make her cum with your fingers or tongue. You prayed desperetly that you would someday get the chance.
"Fuck." Carol moaned breathlessly. Your own pussy clenched around nothing at the sound and you knew that while Carol was getting her wetness over your thigh, you were getting your own on her bed.
Carol's grip on your hands tightened as her movements became more erratic, chasing her release.
"Your Captain's gonna cum on your thigh, brat. Such a good fuck toy for me to use." A moan slipped past your lips at her words. You cursed yourself for giving the reaction Carol wanted, helping her frantic movements.
"Oh you like this, slut? You like being my little fuck toy for me to use whenever I want?"
You desperetly searched for friction on the bed covers as you whined, only to accidently apply more overwhelming pressure to all 3 clamps.
Carol's cunt dug harder into the back of your thigh as she came with a low moan, coating your skin with the evident of her orgasm.
Surprisingly, Carol didn't move from your thigh as she brought a soft hand around to the soaking space between your legs. She tugged momentarily on the clamp there and you whimpered in protest making her snicker.
She fingers teased your lower lips as she spoke. "You seemed to enjoy that just as much as I did." Carol smirked arrogantly as her fingers swiped at your arousal. "Answer me." She demanded, delivering a smack to your ass to punctuate her words.
You didn't. Instead your breathed into the pillows and tried not to think about how they smelled like Carol in an annoyingly soft way.
Carol spanked you again harshly, barely giving you a chance to adjust to the last.
"No." You lied shakily.
"Don't lie to me. You're only adding to your punishment, not that I mind. It's just drawing out the fun I'm having. Being a lying little slut gives me something else to fuck out of you too." Carol spanked you again as those words left her lips. She gripped your hips tightly and pulled you up so your ass was on full display to her.
When Carol's hand returned to your ass her hand was considerably warmer. You thought it was strange at first until she did it again, this time burning hot.
You moaned into the pillow as your realised Carol was using her powers. And you loved it. The hellish heat, Carol's brute strength and the merciless ways she delivered the blows with no recovery time hit your core everytime.
Your legs shook in pleasure and pain and your moans got notably louder. Sometimes when you tried to lean back into Carol's hand she tugged sharply at the ring connecting the chains on your clamps and you immediately returned to your position.
"Something to say?" Carol inquired after a particularly loud moan from you.
It dawned on you how close you were to submitting yourself to Carol. How close you were to telling her you loved every second of what she was doing and wanted her to fuck you.
So, to convince yourself more than the dominant blonde above you, you spoke up. "Need your powers to help you, Carol? Can't do it on your own?"
The pissed off blonde spanked you unbelievably hard after that. Your whole body lurched forward so suddenly you almost hit your head on the wall. You ass was stinging terribly and you felt a tear trickle down your cheek just after you cried out.
Carol got off the bed to once again disappear into the closet, giving you a moment to wipe the stray tear away so she could never know it was there.
When the powerful hero returned your eyes immediately fell to the obnoxious toy between her legs.
You bit your lip at the thought of her fucking you with it. Despite that, you were in denial that something that long and girthy would even fit. Although you knew Carol would make it fit. And with the blonde as pissed as she was...
"God you're practically drooling on my sheets." Your cheeks redened slightly at her words. "You want my cock, brat? You wanna be your Captain's cockslut?" God you did. But you refused to admit it, even if there was a moan caught in your throat.
"It isn't for your needy little pussy yet. It's to shut you up." Carol said as she straddled your chest, the strap inches away from your face.
"I'm not sucking your fucking strap, Carol." You tried to defy passively with an amused grin. You wanted to, so much. The thought of doing something like that was making your cunt pulse. But you might as well get on your knees and beg for forgiveness. You refused to please Carol with such a submissive act, even if you could feel the cracks in your bratty walls grow with each exchange of words and acts.
To your surprise, Carol didn't push the idea any more, simply nodding with a sly smirk, as though she knew something you didn't.
Instead, the taller woman grabbed a small device from the side of the bed you had failed to notice prior. She twirled it in her hand, as though familiarizing herself with it as she positioned herself between your legs again, a place she seemed to be becoming familiar with.
As you gazed at the toy Carol held you couldn't help but feel there was something different about it. Something you couldn't quite placed. It wasn't as slim as any vibrator you had ever seen, not as pointed either, but there was something else to it too.
You didn't voice these inquires and the blonde didn't make any suggestive comments. So you let the thoughts go.
With her free hand, Carol unscrewed the clamp that had continued to grip onto you with everything it had. The release of pressure was unimaginably relieving but you didn't get long to appreciate it.
Carol wordlessly turned the vibrator on to a high setting and teased it against your skin just above your clit. Your hips jerked instantly in an attempt to lower the vibrator to where you needed it, but Carol placed a firm hand between your hip bones and kept you in place.
You almost whined at that, trying hard to keep it at bay, but Carol soon placed it directly onto your throbbing clit. Your hips bucked again as the vibrations hit you hard. The lack of a tip stopped them being focused to one point and instead pulsed down to every milimeter of your clit.
Despite this newfound pleasure, you couldn't shake the unnerving silence from Carol that hung in the room. Just as her lack of teasing with the vibrator hung over you. It seemed as though she was purely focused on drawing out your own pleasure, abandoning any precious plans. You knew that wasn't really the case. But you didn't know what was. It was anxiety inducing not knowing what Carol was planning in that stubborn head of hers.
The silent blonde watched you as she rotated the vibrator, grinding it into you like a drill that buzzed furiously. The vibrations were sending strong shock waves to your core that were carried throughout the entirety of your body in bliss.
Just as you were about to mentally praise yourself for not making a noise the vibrations seemed to multiple at an alarming rate.
You moaned the loudest you had all night at the feeling of warmth covering your core, emitting off of the vibrator that centred in on your aching clit that was drenched in arousal. Your hips tried to buck violently in search for the source of the vibrations that pulsed almost angrily.
You finally braved a look down as you panted heavily amongst moans to see what could possibly cause such uncharted pleasure only to spot the blue, yellow and red swirls of light you had come to hate the sight of. In that moment you didn't hate them though, far from it. You were entranced by the light show from Carol.
Your legs attempted to close around Carol's hand and the vibrator, but she held them apart. She watched you with an arrogant smirk as you threw your head back and moaned continuously, just as she had planned.
"Oh? I thought you didn't like me using my powers on you. You seem to be enjoying it now, judging by your slutty moans that is." She taunted knowingly.
You're unable to muster the voice to say something, to defend your ego. All you can do try to stop yourself moaning Carol's name or title.
Your breathing became increasingly ragged as Carol's powers never let up, mercilessly pulsing waves of vibrations to your core repeatedly until your legs started to shake.
Your cunt clenched around nothing as your clit throbbed aggressively, desperate to reach it's release it craved so much.
Your moans became less coherent when your back arched and toes curled. Just as you were about to fall over that glorious edge all vibrations died down to barely noticeable sensation.
You whined lowly at the worst teasing you had ever felt. It was as though Carol held you over your much needed edge by the back of your shirt, keeping you in that vulnerable state until she decided to either pull you back or let you go.
"Do you need something?" Carol asked with a shit eating grin.
You brought your hands down to push the vibrator further against you but Carol pinned them together in the middle of your stomach with one hand. The strength of just that was able to stop you and it was frustrating to no end knowing that.
Her other hand stayed firmly attached to the vibrator that was quietly buzzing against you core. Carol occasionally messed around with the vibrations levels and the inclusion of her powers to take you by surprise, constantly keeping you on the edge of where you needed to be most.
"Jesus Christ!" Your frustration bubbled to the surface, unable to control your anger at Carol for the merciless teasing she was making you ensure.
"Nope, just your Captain." If you had control of your legs, you would have kneed her in that stupidly attractive face of hers.
The vibrations were becoming too much yet still too little. Every so often they would spike to the previous level before returning to something unfairly light. Your orgasm seemed to grow closer and closer each time before it was denied.
Once, Carol slipped the powered vibrator through your drenched folds with her powers lining it. It felt insane. Energy tickling your inner walls as the vibrations hit all the right areas. But, of course, it was quickly pulled away too.
Just like that, all defiance left your body and you surrendered to your needs.
"Carol, Please, I need to cum so bad!" You wailed in desperation, not caring how you sounded.
"Really?" Carol wondered aloud as she stared down at you.
"Yes! Carol..." You whined and returned her stare pleadingly.
"Who are you begging to make you cum?"
You gulped stiffly, knowing you were about to slip head first into the rabbit hole you had been avoiding so precisely all night.
"You...My Captain." Carol preened at the use of her title, something she had long awaited to hear you say and was sure you would need no encouragement to say it countless more times that night.
"Good girl." She husked and carelessly threw the vibrator to the side now she could use something better. "You want your Captain to fuck you? You wanna cum on my cock like a good little slut?"
Your nodded eagerly, knowing the only way was forward and that you would do anything for what Carol wanted to do to you.
"Please Captain, I want you so bad." You begged shameless.
"Well then you need to get my cock ready for your cunt." Carol stated matter-of-factly as she sat up straight and edged towards you.
The silicone toy between her legs was getting nearer to your face and your mouth watered at the sight, knowing you would need it to help accomdate the size.
You were so dazed by the sight of the toy bigger than you had ever seen that Carol had to tap your cheek to prompt you to open your mouth for her strap.
You did so instantly and without hesitation, quickly having the tip of the silicone toy at your mouth.
"Such an obidient baby now. You would do anything for my cock wouldn't you?" But Carol didn't give you a chance to respond. She thrusted her hips forward and in a flash she was forcing the strap into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat.
The blonde retreated the strap slightly only to ram it back in with more force and causing you to gag as it surpassed your limit without consideration.
You tried to sit up on your elbows to try and soften Carol's thrusts but she knelt down painfully on your arms as she gripped the headboard to aid her thrusting.
"I haven't even got you tired up and you're still so helpless." She mocked cruelly as she continued to make you gag and choke on the toy you struggled to accomdate so badly.
Eventually it became too much and you body fell limp in defeat, drool spilling from your mouth.
Carol didn't fail to notice this and chuckled darkly at the sight of you spread out on her bed with a dazed expression. She hadn't even fucked you yet.
As the dominant hero withdrew her strap she felt a rush to her core at the sight of your saliva glistening on her cock. You really had gotten it ready for yourself. Not that it would help you handle the size much.
Carol didn't waste and time lining the strap up with your entrance. Her hands were firmly placed on either of your thighs to ensure you stay spread open for her.
"Please." You whispered as you both watched the strap part your folds, paving a way for itself, before disappearing into your hungry pussy. You moaned loudly as the strap stretched your walls for it's entrance. You couldn't help but cling onto Carol's bare back and scratch the prominent muscle beneath your fingers as she sunk the strap in further.
The pain was present but it was overridden by the amazing pleasure provided by it. Your pussy clenched desperately around the intruder just before Carol bottomed out into you and you cried out at the unexpected motion, gripping onto the woman above you as much as you could.
She pulled the strap out slightly, only to slam it back in with force that made your whole body jerk and shudder. She pulled out more the next time, as though giving you a moment to prepare before thrusting the toy back into your still unprepared cunt.
You moaned over and over, struggling to form words and accomdate the brutal strap. You were overwhelmed with pleasure and pain as they took over every part of your brain, body and soul.
Her pace never faulted, never giving you a break. Every thrust was just as hard as the last, leaving you a moaning and shuddering mess beneath her.
"You feel how deep I am inside you, slut?" Carol grunted as she continued her onslaught of fucking tour dripping pussy.
"Yes Captain! Feels so good. You feel so good deep inside me." You moaned between breathless pants.
"God you're such a desperate slut for me. Dripping whore for me to use whenever I want." She punctuated each word with the snap of her hips.
The coil in your lower abdomen was starting to tighten and you craved your release.
"C-Captain." You stuttered as you started to shudder. "I'm gonna...cum."
"Beg me for it." Carol demanded and you complied without question.
"Please! Please Captain, I'm gonna cum so hard! Please let me! I'll be good for you." You begged as though Carol held your life in her hands.
"Why should I let you?"
"Because I- because I'm sorry!" You looked Carol in the eyes as you pleaded, letting you see her expression when she knew she had won. You both knew.
"How sorry?" Carol asked as her pace increased. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold off your orgasm for much longer.
"I'm so sorry. It'll never happen again. I promise." Carol watched you for a moment as she memorized every inch of you during her victory.
"Cum for your Captain." With a cry, you came incredibly hard on Carol's cock. Your whole body shuddered violently as Carol fucked you through your orgasm in the most ungentle way possible.
"I'm cuming! I'm cuming on your cock, Captain!" Never in your life did you think you would talk like this to someone, especially not Carol. Never since meeting the arrogant hero did you think you would submit to her in such a wanton way.
Carol fucked you through your orgasm and into another one without even considering giving you a break or chance to recover from the earth shattering one you had just experienced. Your vision was still spotted with blanks as you tried to speak this to her but you couldn't manage to form any coherent words, the only sounds resonating throughout the room were your desperate moans, slapping of Carol's thighs against your own and the wet sound of your pussy being fucked, this being amplified even more now that your cum was swirling around inside of you with the strap.
Carol unexpectedly reached out quicker than you could react to and locked her hand around your throat. Her pace was harder this time, as though reminding you she hadn't forgotten she was punishing you and that she was still mad at you. Clearly very mad.
The strap slammed against the back of your pussy and had you crying out in a failed attempt to adjust to it. Even that was muffled by Carol's grip on your airways.
You couldn't believe the force she was able to gather to drive herself into you with each thrust. Over and over. You began to loose your grip on the world around you.
You plummeted into another orgasm in no time, your overworked pussy spasming around the strap as it released more sticky liquid onto it that you were too blissed out to notice was dripping onto yours and Carol's thighs. She smacked your thigh hard to show she at least had acknowledged it.
You lost count of how many times you had cum. When your limbs went weak and finally dropped from Carol's back she withdrew. Something you were thankful for until she flipped you onto your front and dove back in. Her stamina and sex drive was unforgivable and unmatched. And soon, it was the only thing you knew.
You continued to moan and scream profanities into the pillow while Carol wrecked your world above you. She had your head forced into the pillows with one hand and showed no signs of letting up.
You mustered as much energy as you could to squirm away but your efforts were futile. Your pussy ached with the punishing pace and extreme overstimulation you were experiencing. But you had no way to escape it. All you could do was lay beneath your Captain, voice horse from screaming so loud countless times, and take everything she was giving.
When the final orgasm was ripped from your body it was as though it had taken every part of you with it. Your exhausted and overworked body finally abandoned you and left you to be enveloped by the darkness and the strong arms of Carol Danvers.
Anon Request For: Hi! Could I request a Sebastian Stan one shot where the reader is new to the cast of tfatws and Seb starts to feel like she doesn't like him because he sees him talking and laughing a lot with the rest of the cast, but she won't really talk to him as much, and he later finds out that she actually has a huge crush on him and that's why she's very shy and awkward around him?
I hope you enjoy it!
18+ only, please. Language mostly.
Want more head over to My Masterlist or Sebastian Stan Masterlist
Your laughter stopped him in his tracks, an apple slice halfway to his mouth as he watched your head fall backward Anthony grinning at you. He couldn’t hear what you two were talking about, all he could hear was the burst of laughter that fell from your lips every few minutes and his eyes tracked the movement of your hand as you reached forward to shove at Anthony’s shoulder.
The apple tastes stale as he finally swallowed it down
“Woah there, Cupcake, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Wyatt flashed you a grin, Seb had to bite his tongue to keep from correcting the use of the term ‘Cupcake’ directed at you.
“I sure kiss yours with it, Russell.” You stuck your tongue out, wiping sweat from your forehead and frowning as a makeup artist tsked in your direction
“Lucky woman.” off you two went back and forth as the makeup artist worked on fixing what sweat washed away. Seb stayed quiet, watching the banter between you two, wanting desperately to jump in, to make you laugh, to watch your smile light up your face because of something he said for once.
Hardly two weeks in and the best he’d been able to do outside of a scene was to get a small smile while he held a door open for you.
“You’re done.” Amber patted his shoulder rising from the makeup chair Seb fights the urge to look over his shoulder as he leaves the trailer, ignoring the gnawing feeling in his stomach as you laughed at whatever Wyatt said next.
“Not really.” Daniel leaned back in the elevator, his eyes closed, head pressing into the wall.
“Oh,” Seb looked down at his hands, there was dirt under the nails, “Huh guess it’s just me-”
Daniel peeked an eye open at him, “Just you what?”
“Just me she doesn’t talk to.” Daniel sighed, rolling his shoulders. Seb fell silent again. Exhaustion wore him down, body aching, and the time difference hadn’t quite rolled off his shoulder the way it should have by now.
“She had lunch with Emily yesterday,” Daniel stated, “I believe.”
“Right,” Seb nodded, “That makes sense.” The elevator door opened in time to save him from having to explain the strange string of questions he’d dropped on his castmate. Daniel was a nice guy, but even he had to be concerned about Sebastian asking around about the new cast member.
“Goodnight,” He waved as he left the elevator.
You nearly talked to everyone, he would see you laughing with cameramen, joking around with some of the stunt people and even a few extras knew you well enough to shout your name from a distance and earn a smile and wave from you. Anthony had met you hardly two weeks ago, and already he had a stupid nickname that made you roll your eyes.
Every single person Sebastian talked to had good things to say about you, had a funny story with you that Seb wanted to be a part of. From the moment he shook your hand, watched you grin widely at him before blushing and pulling your hand back he’d wanted to get to know you. The few scenes you two had together had gone swimmingly, you stayed on track, hardly forgot your lines, and almost never broke character thanks to Anthony’s shenanigans.
You, genuinely, seemed to be an amazing person.
Yet not once had he’d been able to talk to you, had he been able to get you to laugh the way everyone else did or fall into back-and-forth banter the way you seemed to do with everyone — everyone but him.
“She hates me,” He grunted while flipping the script in his hand.
Mackie snorted, “She doesn’t hate you.”
“Easy for you to say,” Seb sat the script down, blinking up at his friend despite the sun glaring down in his eyes, “You two have become friends.”
“Yeah, which means I know she doesn’t hate you.” Anthony waved a hand causing Seb to glance over and watch you jog in their direction your hair smoothed back from your face. Your smile was breathtaking.
You bounced a little as you stopped in front of the two of them briefly, you looked over at Seb, your smile dimming to a soft grin as you waved your fingers at him, “Morning, Sebastian.”
You started your cheeks growing red.
Seb opened his mouth only to have Anthony speak up instead, “What’s your favorite flower, Goldie?”
You rolled your eyes, “What’s it to you, Mackie?”
Anthony shrugged, “Maybe I want to treat you right, huh?”
You pointed a finger at him, “Treat this scene right before you focus on me.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked away leaving Anthony in a fit of laughter and Sebastian wondering if the lingering smell in the air was your perfume or he was having a stroke.
He is fairly sure you hated him at the very least you weren’t fond of him, which is okay he didn’t need everyone to be his friend; he would have been okay with a polite conversation if only you would talk to him.
It had rained midday, halting production until the storm passed. Kari looked pissed, walking around the set, checking out the rigs, and making sure the water would not ruin the shot. A chill had come over the day, clouds hiding the raging sun causing everyone to wrap themselves up in blankets or spare rain jackets as they huddled under tents and inside the trailers.
Seb stood off to the side, umbrella over his head, a blanket pulled around his shoulders as he sleepily leaned into the tent’s leg.
Mackie was standing beside him, suspiciously quiet for once.
That lasted all of ten minutes.
“Talk to her.” Rain dripped from his nose. Sebastian followed the droplet before adverting his gaze and rolling his eyes.
“Try it, at least. The worst that could happen is she isn’t into the conversation and you only get to know her as a coworker. Period.”
“No,” Sebastian pointed out, “she could reject the conversation and I haven’t had enough coffee to handle that for the day.” It was Anthony’s turn to roll his eyes, head leaning back into the rain before he straightened up and grinned Seb’s way.
“Goldie!” Seb jumped, following Anthony’s gaze as he called out for you. Sebastian hadn’t even realized you were on set yet, your hair tucked under a ball cap, a red and gold umbrella spinning over your head as you looked their way and waved, “Come’re for a moment will ya?”
“Mack-” Seb’s mouth clamped shut as you strolled up beside them, grinning wildly, cheeks flushed.
“Yes?” You sounded out of breath.
Sebastian frowned as Anthony waved you closer, “Question, sugar.”
It was like watching a train wreck right before his eyes only he wasn’t sure if he was the train or on the train in this scenario.
“Do you hate Sexy Seabass here?” He was on the train and Mackie was the damn conductor.
Your eyes widened, mouth falling open as your cheeks darkened before your head ducks and you practically back away the umbrella over your head smacking the side of the tent and nearly knocking you off your feet. Seb reached out to help you, catching your arm as Mackie caught your others and if it was even possible, the flush in your cheeks deepened.
“Fucking christ, oh my God-” You tugged your arms out of both their grasps, bending over to grab your dropped umbrella and shake it aggressively back out. Sebastian eyed you, curse words falling from your mouth in a whispered rush before you finally straightened up and turned back around glaring daggers at Anthony.
“I-I don’t hate him-you,” your gaze turned to Seb softening, “I don’t hate you why would — I don’t hate you.”
Anthony cackled and both of you turned to tell him to shut the hell up only to see the retreating form of the man as he walked away.
Seb groaned, ‘Fucking hell, Mackie-”
“Do you think I hate you?”
With a sigh Seb rolled his head back and forth contemplating the next words out of his mouth, “I- well- you,” a pause, his eyes locking with yours, “Hate is an exaggeration I just assumed you didn’t like me, but it’s okay. Seriously, Anthony is a prick.” Wincing at the way he said it Seb let it lie there, the words out in the open for you to pick from.
Your hands twisted around the umbrella, “I-I don’t dislike you,” You looked down at your hands, thumbs pressing into each other, “You make me nervous is all.”
That gave him pause, “Nervous?”
“Well yeah,” You looked back up, “This is my first genuine job and I get to work on it with my celebrity crush. Trying to talk to you felt like sticking my tongue against sandpaper.”
Your eyes rolled up, a groan following the look, “Oh fuck off. I get shy, okay-” Seb couldn’t help but laugh, the nerves in his stomach finally subsiding enough to let him step forward-leaning a bit into your personal space.
“Let’s have lunch, talk for once, we can be shy together.” You gave him a smile, one he’d snapshot in his mind for the rest of his life.
“Yeah,” You nodded, “Okay we can do that.”
I do hope the amazing person you wanted this enjoys it! I struggled a little with it, but I trusted my instinct and went with what I have.
Request are always open and look out for more things to come.
as you wish -
(Avenger!Loki x Avenger!nb!Reader, 18+)
(summary: You and Loki joined the Avengers at the same time: you as a fresh-faced magic user, him as a form of serving penance for the Battle of New York. Feelings between the two of you are already a kind of complicated dance - but when Loki catches you in a vulnerable place, those feelings are quickly made quite apparent.
warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI; discussions of periods/PMS symptoms/accompanying dysphoria, mutual pining, thigh-riding, period sex implied, oral (afab receiving), penetrative sex, size kink, squirting.
general: no use of Y/N as always, non-binary!Reader (afab), curvy!Reader, canon genderfluid shapeshifter Loki, gender-neutral petnames for reader, the feelings are requited they’re both just shy and in denial, innocent misunderstandings blown out of proportion, sassy!FRIDAY, himbo!Thor, all mentions of skin and hair kept neutral. written from Loki’s perspective despite being a Reader fic bc honestly I love getting to play with him, he’s a fave.
you guys wanna read some super self-indulgent fluffy PMS-inspired smut with our favorite Asgardian and references to one of my favorite ‘80s movies? yeah you do, here we go
as someone who regularly suffers migraines, I don’t think sex with a Norse god would necessarily cure them, but I wouldn’t say no to trying. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ shout out to @grufflepuff-writes-stuff - I anonymously requested Loki fluff with a migraine-having Reader ages ago, and she was kind enough to write it way back when! please make sure to go check out her Loki stories as well, they’re some of my favorites ever. <3
this is me coming back with a one-off before I hop back into my main series, thanks to everyone who’s been patient with me for this long!
taglist: @everythingbeginsineternity-blog (lmk if this is a thing anyone else wants to join :’D)
If there was anything a Prince of Asgard didn’t do, it was wait. Especially not for mere mortals who kept them waiting to begin with. Yet, despite his better judgment, Loki was sitting on a bench in the Tower’s training arena, staring at the clock on the wall. There were some minor differences in Asgardian and Midgardian time keeping (the definition of an Earth hour left much to be desired) but if he was right, you had promised to meet him here twenty minutes ago. You were just past the point of fashionably late - he would know - and very much teetering into standing him up. And if there was another thing that simply did not happen to royalty, it was being stood up.
He swallowed as his eyes shifted away from the clock, staring into space as he once again went over your conversation the night before. Well, really - a bit more than that, if he was being honest with himself.
He’d encountered you in the common area late last evening, when he’d originally been sneaking into the kitchen to find some grapes now that he could count on it being mostly empty. As he slunk through the sitting room, he’d paused, seeing a huddled shape laying on a couch in the evening dim. Creeping closer, he’d been relieved to find it was just you under a blanket, with solely the cool flickering light of the television contraption illuminating your face. You’d looked… tired, he thought. Even for a Midgardian. He had actually felt a bit bad when you sat up suddenly, clearly startled - but had felt far better than he was willing to ever admit when you relaxed significantly upon seeing it was only him. It wasn’t often he saw people’s shoulders drop into something more natural when he came into view. Quite the opposite.
“Your Majesty.” You’d managed a sleepy smirk he found a little too endearing to be comfortable. You’d made a point, since your… eventful first meeting, of always referring to him with an honorific when you were alone. On anyone else, he might have hated the teasing, finding it insolent - but on you, he couldn’t quite bring himself to dislike it. If anything, he liked it a little too much.
“…You.” He’d retorted, admittedly a bit lamely. He folded his arms across the loose shirt he was wearing, suddenly self-conscious. “Why are you sitting alone in the dark?”
You’d shrugged. “I don’t feel so hot - nothing contagious,” you added immediately, as if to reassure him. “I wanted to see if I could distract myself, so I thought I’d watch an old favorite on the big TV.” You mirrored his folded arms, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you walking alone in the dark?”
Loki scowled, but he couldn’t quite make it stick. “I just wanted something to eat, but I didn’t want to deal with…” He trailed off, wondering how petty he’d sound if he told you the truth. But finally, he gestured around the common area, as if in explanation.
To his horror, the smirk had immediately dropped off your face. “Oh. Um.” You sank down slightly into the couch again, obscuring yourself somewhat with the blanket. “Don’t let me keep you, if you haven’t —“
“No, no,” he’d cut you off. “I— forgive me,” he added, remembering himself. “I meant…” He felt frustration flatten his mouth into a frown, trying to figure out exactly how to say ‘everyone but you, of course.’ But that would require him to tell you, even by implication, that you’d grown on him. Instead, he fumbled for a moment, before sighing somewhat resignedly through his nose and pinching the bridge of it briefly. “…You know,” he said quietly, smiling a tad sheepishly.
“Oh,” you’d said again, but this time to his immense relief you’d straightened up. “No, yeah. I get it.” You nodded a touch eagerly. “The Tower’s always better at night, anyway.” You returned his sheepish smile. “Better view. Or at least, I think so.”
Loki stood there for a moment, trying to decide if you were trying to imply something or not, before he turned again to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, hesitating. “…Can I bring you, ah, anything?”
You’d looked at him, blinking a little bit. Was it really that surprising an offer? “I just figured,” he said quickly. “Since I’m going in there, and all-“
“Remember that soda I had you try that you immediately spat out and said could only be the swill of demons?” you said.
Loki repressed a small shudder at the memory of the red aluminum can. “Yes, quite.” He couldn’t help a small smile, however. “One of those, then?”
“Please.” The smile you gave him in return was so sweet, he would’ve fetched you Odin’s crown if you’d asked it of him.
By the time he returned to the living room with your drink and a bowl of grapes, you’d scooted over on the couch, leaving a wide enough berth that he felt he wouldn’t be too forward if he interpreted it as an invitation.
Nevertheless, when he’d handed you the demon swill, he still hesitated a moment until you’d patted the cushion next to you expectantly. “If you want to, anyway,” you added, as if worried about being presumptuous.
Silly thing. If only you knew he’d happily sit on his own daggers to spend time with you, at this point. He took the proffered seat, careful not to brush your thigh with his, and only when he was quite sure he wasn’t invading your personal space did he look at whatever spectacle was on the screen.
“You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you.”
“You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.”
He watched two men begin to swashbuckle, raising an eyebrow at how badly they were doing it. Clearly, the swordsmanship on Midgard left much to be desired.
He looked to you, about to make a joke, but stopped dead when he saw your face - your pleased grin, your sparkling eyes. When you giggled at one of the fighters making yet another quip, it was everything he could do not to drop the grape he held suspended halfway to his mouth.
You must have felt him staring at you, because you looked to him with your bright smile still in place. “Has anyone made you watch this yet? It’s a classic. Well,” you paused, doing the hand gesture he’d learned meant you were mentally quantifying what you had to say. “It was really popular in the States way back when, but I’m not so sure about the rest of the world, so I guess ‘classic’ is relative. But I still think it’s good, anyway.”
Loki looked from you to the screen again, forcing himself to focus on anything else but how he wanted to smile just a little too much at your casual chatter. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t believe so.”
“Oh, man.” You looked back to the screen yourself. “This was one of my favorites when I was little. I’ll happily watch it from the beginning with you sometime, if you’d like. But if it’s not your cup of tea,” you added again. “No pressure.”
He still winced a little internally when you did that - the way you always gave him an out, hedged yourself against his rejection. He knew he had been less than kind to you when you’d first met, so it wasn’t like you didn’t have cause. But still. You were one of the only people in the Tower besides Thor who seemed to tolerate his presence, and even you still flinched from him sometimes. Though he’d deny it if pressed, occasionally it crossed his mind in the middle of the night, and he would lay awake wondering just what he could say or do to make you understand how quickly you could have him at your beck and call.
Instead, he nodded slowly. “I think I’d like that, yes.”
“Really?” In his peripheral vision, he saw you whip your head around to look at him before immediately turning back to the screen, as if thinking better of it. “…Cool,” you said much more quietly, nodding. “Let me know, and we’ll make it a movie night on my floor or something. I’ll make popcorn.”
Loki turned his head as much as he dared, trying to read your face - a movie night? Did that mean you would make it a group thing? Invite the whole team? The idea made his stomach drop; you’d just been talking about how special it was to you, he’d thought… he’d assumed that meant something a little more private.
But when he did finally see you, lit up in the dark by the bright painted backdrops, the smile he observed was clearly one you thought he wouldn’t notice. As you sipped the drink he brought you, still staring at the film, he actually allowed himself to wonder if maybe you were relishing the idea of the two of you alone. If, perhaps, you even liked the thought as much as he did.
He looked immediately back to the bowl in front of him, hoping you didn’t notice him noticing you. Onscreen, the swordplay was just concluding, along with the banter that had seemed to tickle you so. “…You know,” he began, getting an idea. “If you ever wanted to brush up on your blade combat - just in case you have to face a Spaniard, whatever that is,” he joked, nodding at the screen. “I’d be more than happy to practice with you. Properly, I mean.”
You hummed in a playful mockery of deep thought. “I don’t know, your Highness,” you said, glancing at him with a sly smile. “As tempted as I am, it sounds like another opportunity for you to show me up with your incredible Asgardian athleticism and sorcery. Maybe score some free lunch off a bet I’m too proud to turn down, play to my weaknesses.”
Loki smiled in spite of himself. “I promise you, no tricks, no bets.” He held up his hands in a play surrender. “Just sparring, and maybe a pointer or two. If you like.”
You turned all the way to look at him, still mostly wrapped in your blanket, and it was hard for him to keep his eyes entirely on yours as it slipped to show your mostly bare shoulder and the strap of your tank top. He kept his face open as your eyes searched his, readable to the degree that you maybe couldn’t see how much he hoped you’d say yes.
“…Okay.” You grinned, seeing at last he was genuine. “Sure. I’ll let you know how I’m feeling in the morning and we’ll meet in the gym before, say, lunch? Ooh!” You didn’t give him time to answer, reaching over and placing a hand on his upper arm unexpectedly. “Sorry, just - this is one of my favorites.”
Loki was too busy staring at your hand for a moment, resting on his bicep over his Asgardian linen shirt like it was the most natural thing in the world. After a two second internal battle over whether he thought you’d notice if he flexed just slightly, before finally deciding he didn’t want to risk the teasing if you did, he looked back to screen to see what on earth had enchanted you into touching him.
The woman the Sicilian (whatever that was) and the Spaniard had been trying to keep away from the man in black was now, indeed, yelling at the Man in Black, who had seemingly been chasing after the motley band of kidnappers to kidnap her for his own bounty. Loki found himself not entirely hating one line - “Life is pain, Princess; anyone who says different is trying to sell you something.” - before the argument seemed to escalate further, with the woman who turned out to be royalty finally shoving the man who sought to kidnap her down a vast hill.
As the Man in Black tumbled gracelessly down into the distance, he called back a single phrase, stretched into what Loki could only hear as a plea: “As you wish!”
The Princess, apparently having some sort of epiphany, then most un-royally threw herself down the hill after the Man in Black. Loki frowned - there had to be a more dignified way to do that, unexpected reunion or no. He couldn’t imagine wanting to throw himself down a hill after —
He was interrupted in this thought by your quiet giggle, and amended himself: well. If it would make you laugh like that… and if there was a chance, even a slight one, you might join him at the combined mercy of gravity and inertia… perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
“I always love that line,” you said, the content smile still on your face. “What were we saying?” You paused as you turned to look at him again, seemingly only just realizing your hand was still on his arm. “Oh - sorry about that,” you murmured, a touch too quickly for his taste. He did notice, however, that your hand didn’t seem to share your voice’s concern, withdrawing from his arm but still hovering over the spot it touched as if reluctant to entirely pull away.
Loki watched your face for a moment, somewhat relishing the indecisiveness he saw there, before quietly clearing his throat so your gaze moved again to his eyes. “Sparring,” he reminded you gently. “Tomorrow, before lunch.”
“Right. Yes,” you nodded, your smile now somewhat relieved. “If anything changes on my end, I’ll let you know.” You glanced up at the ceiling - a habit you still hadn’t managed to break, even after the two of you had lived in the Tower for this long. “Friday, would you turn this off for now?”
“As you wish,” Friday said, and Loki was still slightly unnerved by something that was decidedly mechanical having such a noticeable sense of humor.
He looked to you, curious, and you winked. “Don’t want you to be too spoiled if we’re going to watch it from the beginning.” He noticed you reach back to rub the back of your neck, wincing slightly as you did so. “I should be getting to bed anyway - want to make sure I feel better before you thrash me, after all.”
Loki let himself smile at your cheek. “Only if you ask me nicely.” It was out of his mouth before he could fully think through the phrasing - a problem he found upsettingly common in your presence, since the two of you had started hanging out more. “I promised, remember?” he added quickly, doubling down on the smile to hide his newfound nervousness. Where did this come from? Why did you inspire in him such an urge to… avoid untowardness, even when you yourself seemed to be playfully toeing that line? You were an adult, for Norns’s sake, hardly an innocent - he’d heard you swap bawdy jokes with Thor and Natasha alike, when you were feeling casual. Maybe it was simply the moment; you’d just shared something with him you’d said was dear to you, and he felt like he would be remiss if he sullied that somehow by seeming too callous.
You were still looking at him, you own face frustratingly unreadable with your slightly parted lips, the slight intake of breath that made him think you were about to respond in kind - before you returned his smile. “I’ll think it over, your Grace.” You pulled yourself from the couch, the blanket coming with you in a makeshift cape. You held up the soda can still in your hand. “Thanks again.” You hesitated just a moment longer, before finally giving him a small shrug and a silly roll of your eyes, as if indicating something in the air you were both aware of but couldn’t speak. “Goodnight, Loki.”
Loki sat there for a moment, watching the lumpy shape of you quickly shuffle for the elevator. What was that last gesture? Was that a Midgardian goodbye he hadn’t learned yet? Was that something friends did, or only close friends? Did you consider him a “close” friend? That was good, right? He was no stranger to non-verbal communication, obviously - it was a vast part of everything from negotiations to, well, more underhanded negotiations - but with you, he seemed to read everything two ways, despite how confidently you seemed to be saying whatever you meant.
He was still sitting there fifteen minutes later, chewing on a last handful of grapes as he mulled this over, before he put his hand into the bowl only to find it full of stems. He sighed, irritated; he was surely going to hear from someone tomorrow about eating more than his share of the groceries, as he heard about every foot he put wrong in Tony Stark’s magnificent menagerie.
Taking a page from your book, he glanced upward, his eyes roaming the ceiling somewhat uncertainly. “…I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Grapes have been added to the next grocery order,” Friday chirped conspiratorially.
Loki rose from the couch, about to move for the kitchen to dispose of the evidence, before he turned slowly to look up at the ceiling again. “That…” He paused, clearing his throat somewhat. “This is ridiculous,” he murmured to himself, before looking back up. “That went well, didn’t it?”
Friday was silent for a long moment, and just as Loki was about to turn away, embarrassed with himself, she finally spoke. “They certainly seemed to feel better when you sat down with them, your Horned-ness.”
“‘Better’ - that’s… that’s good. I’ll take better,” Loki said, nodding to himself. He paused, the last part of that conversation registering in his brain. “‘Your Horned-ness’?”
“It’s what the Boss told me to call you if you ever actually talked to me,” Friday said.
Loki only sighed, waving a hand dismissively as he returned to the kitchen. It could’ve been worse, he supposed.
You had agreed to meet him. He remembered it clearly - of course he did, it had only been hours ago. He’d replayed it endlessly as he’d lain in bed, waiting for it to be morning like it was some sort of childish holiday. But as he sat there, quietly reviewing the words you’d said, the way you’d smiled at him, another ten minutes had ticked by and there was still no you. Not your shadow in the door, not the sound of your boots in the hallway, not your voice greeting Friday and asking her to cue up the ridiculous ‘playlist’ of Midgardian music you insisted on listening to when you trained (which he was begrudgingly warming up to - specifically, the mortal siren Beyonce - not that he’d ever admit it to you).
He was trying hard not to sulk, but you’d been so… so blatantly warm the night before, with your joking and your laughter. He felt himself subconsciously roll the shoulder of the arm you’d touched, as if that would dissipate the slight phantom handprint he still seemed to feel there. What had he been thinking, letting himself get so wrapped up in some ridiculous Midgardian story? Wanting to make part of it real for you, to see if you’d smile for him now like you had then?
He wasn’t proud of how quickly his head snapped up when the gym door opened, the way his breath caught for a moment as he watched the approaching figure - only to feel himself sulk with a vengeance when it was only his brother and Rogers, striding in and looking far too cheerful as they chatted between the two of them.
Rogers was the first to spot him, his step faltering for just a second before he continued on, giving Loki an attempted smile and nod that just turned into a grimace. “Good morning.”
Thor turned to follow Rogers’s gaze, his eyes lighting up like one of his own storms when he spotted Loki sitting there. “Loki! What luck - the Captain and I were just going to having a few practice rounds, test some new collaboration techniques with his shield and Mjolnir. Would you like to join us? You’d make for an invigorating opponent—“
“No,” Loki said, a little too sharply. When the smile on Thor’s face significantly dimmed, he sighed, trying to soften his expression. “I’m sorry, I’m - well, I was waiting on my own partner,” he said, the annoyance creeping back into his tone. “We had a plan to meet, but they rather seem to have forgotten. In fact,” he rose to his feet, his resolve solidifying as he spoke. “I might just go track them down myself and remind—“
He stopped dead when Rogers interrupted, saying your name like a question. “…Yes,” Loki said, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible in the face of his previous outburst. “Yes, actually. You haven’t seen them this morning, have you?”
“We did!” Thor said, his smile returning. “Yes, we passed them on their floor just now - and they had a message for you, in fact! They said—“
“No need,” Loki said, the irritation returning to his face. So you’d talk to his brother, but you wouldn’t bother to come tell him whatever your excuse was yourself? If he wasn’t already on the warpath to your chambers, that definitely would have put him there.“No need to trouble yourselves. I think I’d much rather let them tell me in person, since they’re apparently up after all.”
“Hey, go easy on them,” Steve said, turning to watch Loki storm past them. “They said they weren’t feeling—“
As the doors slammed behind Loki, Steve’s shoulders fell slightly. “…Well,” he finished, to no one.
Thor grimaced, patting Steve’s shoulder. “It’s all right - he would’ve had to see for himself, even if he had heard you.”
Steve sighed. “He’s really got it bad, doesn’t he?”
“And he has no idea,” Thor said, shaking his head. “I swear, Loki’s so brilliant at so many things - shapeshifting, manipulation, forgery of vital Asgardian documents - but feelings have never been his strong suit, in any of his forms.” He sighed. “Gets that from our father, I think.”
“I thought he was adopted?” Steve raised an eyebrow.
“Well, yes. Alas.” Thor gestured vaguely, silent for a thoughtful moment before looking back to Steve. “…So, shall we commence with the lightning?”
It didn’t take long for Loki to reach your floor - one of the lower ones, by your own request when you’d moved in. Even in the brief span of time for the walk and the elevator ride, he’d come up with a million dry, cutting ways to bring your obvious poor manners to your attention. This had nothing at all to do with how foolish he felt for actually expecting you to meet him there - it was just that standing up an Asgardian royal simply wasn’t to be borne, even on a backwater like Midgard.
Drawing himself to his full, impressive height, he stormed through your small sitting room, doing his best not to stop and inspect the multiple piles of books you’d left lying around what was clearly your favorite chair. He definitely didn’t also want to inspect what he was pretty sure was the hoodie he saw you wearing so often around the Tower, draped casually over the arm of a couch near a nest of blankets. He didn’t even entertain the thought that perhaps it still smelled like you - your soap, or perfume, or whatever fragrance you wore that captivated him whenever it was in the air. No, there was no time for that now, he had something to make clear. This would not stand. Ignoring these items as best he could, he strode to the door to your sleeping chambers, rapping authoritatively as he loomed there.
When you didn’t respond to the first knock, he knocked again, feeling his shoulders tighten further. Oh, so you’d happily chat to Rogers and Thor, but were too busy for anyone else? Well. How clear your priorities were, suddenly. He felt a rare heat rush to his face, the time you’d spent together last evening suddenly feeling even more like a ploy of some kind. Well, two could play at that game, you weren’t the only one who-
“Sorry, coming,” he heard you call from within the room. He frowned; did you sound like you were sleeping? Why did you sound like that? The two of you had a certain fondness for sleeping in, to be sure - you’d spoken of that before - but this was late even for you. He felt the wind leave his righteous sails of retribution just slightly, just enough to perhaps keep him from wanting to walk in the door unannounced. As he heard the shuffle of your approaching footsteps, he paused, wondering for a moment what exactly it was Rogers had been trying to relay when he walked out —
And then you opened the door, and he felt himself blush all the harder. Both at his own ridiculous temper, now cursing it to Hel and back, and at the way you looked.
The room behind you was enormously dark for this time of day, blackout panels having been activated to cover the floor-to-ceiling windows on your southern wall. The only light in the room was from a string of lights (fairy lights, he’d heard you call them once) stretched over your bed, which even then only illuminated the immediate vicinity of your nightstand and your bedside. At any other time, he would have smiled a little to see that the color matched the visible energy spectrum of your own magic - clearly something of a favorite of yours. From what he could make out in the dim light, your room was looking a bit messy, as if you hadn’t been able to concentrate enough to return things where they needed to go and simply left them piled around your bed. From what he had seen of the fastidious way you cared for your weapons, and cleaned your space in the training room, he knew this to be out of character as well.
You yourself were… a sight, for multiple reasons. You’d clearly just showered - he was caught again by the gentle but pleasant scent you always wore, realizing now it must be your soap - and your hair was still a bit askew from the way you usually kept it, as if you’d fallen straight from your shower into your bed. You were at least wearing a clean tank top, which hugged a bit closer to your form than he was maybe used to seeing. Not to mention the fact you had on no trousers to speak of, instead just a pair of dark shorts that clearly exposed your rather plentiful thighs. Loki did his best not to linger there too long, as much as he could perhaps admit to himself he wanted to look.
You blinked at him sleepily, and immediately, Loki felt a nauseating embarassment for working himself into such a state. Of course you weren’t standing him up. Of course something was wrong. He’d been so focused on the part of the conversation last night where you’d said you would come, that he entirely glossed over the part where you said you hadn’t been feeling well.
“Your Highness,” you said, with the slightest hint of a surprised smile. He watched it quickly slip from your face, however, both as you glanced down at yourself and over your shoulder at your messy bedroom. “Uh - I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be coming to…” You trailed off, turning back to face him and looking a bit sheepish yourself. “Thor did tell you I wanted a raincheck, didn’t he?” You rolled your eyes just slightly, but winced as you did so. Your hand flew to your left temple, your fingers kneading the flesh there. “I’m sorry if he didn’t, he swore to me he was heading straight to the gym - ugh, I should’ve just told Friday to—“
“Yes, Sweet, he did, don’t worry,” He lied immediately, his tone soothing. Well, maybe not a total lie - they didn’t Not tell him, he was just a bit… preoccupied, when they did. “But it’s - it’s not raining, just so you know. If that makes any difference.” Loki said, frowning slightly before he glanced over your shoulder at the dim windows just to be sure. He paused for a moment, realizing that was the first time he’d called you ‘Sweet’ outside his own head. He felt himself glance again at you, anxious that you would object to this somehow.
Your smile returned somewhat, and he felt the tiniest bit of relief in his chest. “Midgardianism, sorry. I meant, I woke up feeling pretty gross, so I didn’t want you to get stuck waiting on me. I’m sure you have a ton of other things to do today.”
“Oh, it was no trouble.” Loki lied again. What you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you now, anyway. “Thor told me right away, it was no bother at all. I just…” He felt himself subconsciously lick his lower lip. “I wanted to see if there was anything I could do. Since you’re feeling poorly, and all.”
“Oh.” You blinked, and again, he felt a slight ache - was it really that much of a surprise, that he should want to do something nice for you? That someone should want to care for you? “Um. It’s not really a soup and blankets kind of thing, I hate to say.” You gave him a small shrug. “It’s just a migraine. I get them every month - I feel lousy for a few days, so I just hang out in dark rooms until I stop feeling nauseous whenever it’s bright out.”
Loki frowned. “That sounds… unpleasant. I didn’t think Midgardians could be made ill by sunlight - did you catch this, somehow? Have you seen the medical wing? Should someone come see you? I can fetch them for you, if you’d like—“
“No need, my prince,” you said, holding up a hand with a faint laugh. Loki found himself freezing again - this was the first time you’d ever directly called him a ‘prince,’ much less the possessive before it. If he thought he liked your uses of titles, before… Well. This was quite something else. “It’s nothing scary, it’s just a… really intense headache, basically. Everything hurts on one side of my skull and I feel like I’m going to be sick for a while. It’ll pass of its own accord, I’m really okay.”
Loki found himself shuffling slightly in place, unconvinced by this. “But surely, there’s some cure for it? They can’t just let people walk around with these, that’s ridiculous.”
“I mean, if Asgard has managed to totally eliminate stuff like this, you can take me there any day,” you said, managing enough of a smile to soothe him somewhat as you leaned against your doorframe. “And they have temporary solutions, sure. I take pills for the pain, I keep a cold pack where it hurts, and those will help for a little bit. It’s really just…” you paused, looking a little - embarrassed? “It’s hormonally triggered, basically. If that, um, makes sense.”
“…Oh,” Loki nodded as it clicked. This, he understood. “Yes. I see now.” He paused - while Asgard was somewhat freer in speaking about such matters when it came down to it, he didn’t want to cross a line with you, or risk making you uncomfortable. “I…” He hesitated for a moment. “I actually have, er, some experience with this sort of thing myself.”
You tilted your head, your expression curious. “Wait, really?”
Loki nodded, shrugging as casually as possible. “I am also occasionally the Goddess of Mischief, among other kinds of royalty.” He gave you a knowing grimace. ”When I was younger, it took me a while to master how to avoid this sort of thing in my other forms - though it went much faster with my mother’s help, luckily. It was… not my favorite experience.”
Your shoulders relaxed in a way that made Loki feel like you were letting a veil drop, somehow, and his heart fluttered slightly at the sight of it. “Yeah, you definitely know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes “It’s so stupid; I have a work-around for every other cycle symptom, except for this.” Your smile turned somewhat bitter. “Apparently I really am stuck with one forever, despite everything I do to the contrary.”
Loki’s grimace turned to a conspiratorial smile; he secretly enjoyed the idea of sharing something this… private, with you, somehow, even if it was simply the knowledge of what was making you miserable. “I wouldn’t say forever, Sweet - even Midgardians have to catch up with the times someday.”
“You have to quit making me smile, it kind of hurts.” You managed to grin and wince at the same time. You looked over your shoulder to your bed. “As much as I’d like to keep you around, your Majesty, I do kind of need to lay down again… the little jailer in my head is getting rather insistent.”
“Of course,” Loki said immediately. “Please don’t be uncomfortable on my account.” He looked briefly to you from your bed, opening his mouth before he could stop himself at his next thought.
“…Loki?” You looked back to him at this, your expression curious.
He hesitated, not for the first time - everything he did with you felt like it could so easily go awry, no matter how careful he was with his words. He looked back to you, still waiting a moment before he spoke. “If… if you like,” he said slowly. “If you’re comfortable, that is - I’d be happy to stay with you.” He swallowed. “I- there’s something I could try, that might help with the pain a bit.” He straightened up. “If you don’t want to, of course, or if you’d rather be alone, I’ll—“
“I’d like that,” you said, just a touch too fast to be totally casual. You bit your lip for a moment, looking up at him. “As long as I’m not… keeping you from something else.”
“No! No, of course not,” Loki shrugged, unable to help the smile that came to his face. “I was really only planning on seeing you anyway. For sparring,” he added immediately. “And that sort of thing.”
“Totally, yeah.” You nodded, your expression looking a bit like his felt on the inside - there was something else neither of you were quite willing to name again. As you stepped back to let him into your room, you paused, glancing down at yourself in just a tank top and underwear. “I can, um-“
“No need,” Loki said softly. “Unless - unless you want to, of course. Obviously,” he amended. “I saw your, ah, sweatshirt in your sitting room, if you want me to—“
“No, that’s okay,” you said, just as quickly. You looked up at him, your arms folding across your chest. “I mean, as long as you’re not, like, scandalized or anything.” You gave him a joking wink, followed again by a wince.
Loki smirked. “It would take a lot more than that to scandalize me, Pet.”
You blinked, and for a moment, your expression was something he couldn’t quite make out, something tantalizingly vague with possibilities, before you finally jerked your head towards your bed. “Okay, sorry, jailer’s getting pissed now.”
Loki watched you pad your way over to your bed across your soft, seemingly twilit room, climbing back into the nest of blankets you’d left waiting for you. You collapsed among them, letting out a small sigh of relief that sounded, for just a moment to his traitorous ears, like something else entirely. He ignored this thought and the accompanying warmth in his cheeks as best he could as he watched you moving things around, clearing a space where he could join you.
“Sorry for the mess,” you said, smiling sheepishly again. “It’s just stupidly hard to do anything when I have one of these. I promise it doesn’t normally look like this.”
Loki shrugged. “It’s no worse than Thor’s room, I assure you. And he has no such reason for his own mess.” He gave you another smile before kicking off his boots at the door and carefully treading across your floor, minding his much larger feet as he tried not to step on any mysterious texts or clothes that had come to rest there. Grateful he’d only worn his training clothes, which were much softer than his usual Asgardian leather, he gently lifted himself onto your mattress and sat down adjacent to your sprawled form.
“Now,” he said with a slight hush, settling in. “I’m going to try something small. If it doesn’t work the way you need it to, just tell me. But it’s better than nothing, hopefully.”
You gave him a more relaxed smile than he’d seen yet, holding the eye that was giving you problems closed. “I trust you, your Grace.”
Loki felt his breath catch for a moment in his throat - when was the last time someone as like you had said anything of trust to him? Pushing that thought aside as best he could, he reached for you slowly. He held his hand carefully over the temple he’d seen you rubbing, checking your eyes to make sure he still had your permission. When you nodded, his hand turned the slightest shade of blue - not that you would have been able to notice in the colorful lights of your room - and pressed it gently to the skin there.
Unbidden, you moaned quietly, and he was torn between wanting to withdraw his hand and doing whatever he could to make you make that sound again. “Sorry,” you whispered, opening one eye to look at him. “Sorry about that, um. It just… this feels so nice after two days of this, I’m not going to lie. God.” You laughed, but it was slightly strained. “Do you mind if I touch your hand, maybe move it a little?”
“By all means,” Loki said, doing his best to keep his voice level. “Do whatever you need to be comfortable. It’s yours.” He wouldn’t have cared where you moved his hand, honestly, so long as he got to keep touching you, but he was doing his best to keep that off his face.
You reached up, touching him like he was made of glass - which he couldn’t help but find endearing, even as he swore his skin heated slightly at your touch. You moved the length of his palm between your temple and your cheekbone, where his long fingers knowingly wrapped around the curve of your skull. Carefully, you positioned the pad of his thumb against the plane of bone under your eyebrow, where he pressed just enough to relieve the pressure there. “Oh fuck, that feels so much better. Goddamn.” You sighed, your body relaxing anew. “I might not ever let you leave again, your Highness, I’m sorry. Asgard will just have to find a new God of Mischief.”
Loki chuckled low in his throat, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he maybe saw your hip twitch for just a second at the sound. “Oh, don’t fret, Sweet. I imagine they’ll function just fine without me,” he said, the slightest tinge of bitterness creeping into his tone. When you opened one eye to look at him somewhat guiltily, he smiled at you. “I’d much rather be here anyway. Far better company, much more interesting.”
“You flatter me, your Grace,” you teased. You melted freely into his hand, sighing again in what sounded like bliss, and it was almost too much for him to bear. He sat there, content simply with staring at you, before that lovely eye of yours opened yet again. “You can, um.” You hesitated, the tip of your tongue darting out across your lower lip for a minute. “You can… lay down, you know. If you want.” You shrugged just slightly. “Just so you’re not stuck there with your arm like that. Might be more comfortable. Unless you’re fine, which is also… fine.” You giggled - was it nervously? Did he really make you nervous that way? He understood he could be intimidating; if anything, he’d played that to the hilt when the two of you had first met. But that you might be less intimidated by him, and more… shy, somehow? He wondered for a dizzying moment if you felt just as flustered around him the way he found himself around you at times, much as he tried to hide it.
Without speaking, trying to keep his hand as still as he could where it rested, he slid down your mattress until his hips were about parallel with yours. Resting his head carefully on your spare pillow, he found himself eye to eye with you for the first time, holding his breath for reasons he couldn’t quite explain to himself. The sweet smell of your soap, still fresh on your skin, became the forefront of his senses. Unsure where to look, he found his eyes wandering over the bare skin of your shoulder, the exposed curve of your throat, and just briefly over the skin of your chest where the neckline of your shirt was tugging slightly against where you lay.
When at last he met your eyes - now both open, watching him seemingly just as much as he was watching you - you exhaled a single breath. One that shook just noticeably enough to change everything.
There was a new tension now, as he kept his hand to your face. He felt it in the way his tongue wet his lips a bit subconsciously. Under his palm, he felt heat rise to your face as your eyes skimmed the pale column of his throat, and for a moment, he swore you bit your lip in a way that was less nervousness and more… something else.
You were trying very hard not to move, to be perfectly still, almost to the point of hushing your own breathing. But after a few moments of this, you shifted, just once, just enough that your thigh brushed his, and for a minute he felt on the brink of agony.
Without speaking, he moved in turn under the guise of adjusting his shoulder, shifting his elbow slightly where it bent between you two. You in turn moved a bit closer to him, as if to alleviate any strain somewhat - but as you did, the thin fabric of his soft linen trousers came in contact with the bare skin of your thighs. You looked to him for a moment, as if checking to make sure this was okay, but did nothing to put the space back between you two.
Loki gazed at you for a long moment, then down to where his leg was pressed against yours, calculating… before, carefully as he could, he bent his leg to press his knee against your thighs with the slightest of pressures. He would have pulled back in an instant if you’d twitched away in any capacity, or if you’d done anything to indicate you resented the closed space, and he was watching for exactly that -
But instead, rather to his surprise, your thighs parted just slightly, one resting tentatively on top of his knee so it was held carefully amidst your soft skin.
Loki looked back to your eyes immediately, determined to see in your face what you meant by this, only to find you staring up at him where you lay with the same searching gaze. Your lips were parted just slightly, as if in question. You showed no sign of hesitancy or pulling away. Not now.
Loki looked at you for a long moment, making sure he was reading this correctly, before he pushed his knee between your legs a bit further. Still gently enough that the fabric between the two of you barely whispered, but with a slow certainty, until it last his thigh rested fully between the tops of yours.
As he stopped moving, you bit your lower lip fully, your eyes alight with something he’d never seen before. The pair of you stayed still, barely breathing for what felt like ages, before, at last - you moved, grinding lightly enough against his thigh that one could’ve sworn it was an accident.
But from the way you stared at him, he knew immediately it was no accident.
“…You know,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. “There are other things I found that might… act as a form of relief,” he paused. “With this type of thing. If you’d like.”
Your head tilted just slightly under his hand as you held his gaze. “I’d appreciate any relief you’re willing to provide… my Prince.” Your voice was soft, just as low as his.
Loki felt himself release a soft, shuddering exhale of his own. Trying not to move too quickly to startle you, he slid his right hand under your torso, pulling you closer to him as he rested his palm against the arch of your back. With the smallest pressure of his hand, you moved against his thigh again, a delicious newfound heat pressing itself through the fabric of your underwear and his pants.
Loki gave up trying to move slowly at this point, gently lifting you so he could slide his thigh entirely against your sex. You welcomed this friction, sitting up somewhat so you could better grind down against the muscle he tensed beneath you.
Your eyes met his, and you looked shy again, almost hesitant. “Is this…?”
Loki’s hand pulled you against his thigh once again, and the moan you muffled went straight to the growing tension between his legs. “I told you, Sweet,” he said, his voice low. “I’m yours. However you need me.”
You looked at him with a mix of relief and a wanting so naked it almost made him hiss. He urged you again against his thigh with the flat of his palm, and soon you didn’t need his guiding hand to find rhythm. He watched you, eyes wide with enchantment, as you rolled your hips hard against him, the growing wet spot on the fabric speaking as to how much you craved more.
“Poor darling,” Loki cooed, watching you rut while still biting your lip. “Alone down here with no one to help you feel better. We can’t have that.”
You shivered, your hips stuttering just slightly, and he could tell his voice was helping you along. “I didn’t-“ You swallowed, your words failing you for a moment as he tensed his thigh a little more underneath you. “I didn’t know if this- if you-“ You groaned softly, your head falling back for a minute.
“If I didn’t what, Sweet?” Loki asked, unable to help the slight breathlessness to his voice.
You continued against his leg, whining softly. “I didn’t know if you liked Midgardians,” you admitted, looking at him through your lashes in a way that turned his fascination into a physical ache. “Or if you liked me… This way.” Your breath was coming in soft panting now, and his gaze fell to your chest as it heaved slightly, entranced. “I didn’t want to ruin anything with you, because I—“ You were cut off for a moment as you shivered again, mewling softly at the pressure of your mounting release.
Loki’s eyes went wide, and the way his own cock was beginning to throb understated how much he desperately wanted to hear the end of that sentence. Slowly, as if in a dream and not wanting to wake up, he reached down into his trousers — only to look back up immediately when you moaned, afraid of missing your face when you came apart against him. It was then he realized you weren’t moaning from the friction - your eyes were watching his hand with a hunger that licked at his insides like fire.
He adjusted his considerable length against his stomach, groaning softly at the ghost of his own touch, before he took your upper arms gently in his grip to invite you to move again. “Come here,” he whispered, his voice making you shiver. “Come tell me everything, darling, while you feel just how much I like you.”
He watched with no small amount of delight as your irises somehow expanded, already endlessly dark and wide. You only moved when he gave you a reassuring nod, his hands moving to seize your plush hips as you settled yourself against his, and the hard line of his cock through the fabric.
You audibly whined as you pushed your soaked panties against him, and he couldn’t hold back a moan as you rocked your hips into his, redoubling your efforts now that you had him so close to you.
Loki watched you shiver as he felt you push hard against him, working your clit against the friction he provided. “Fuck, Loki,” you murmured feverishly, licking your lips as you sought pressure against him. “I knew you were a god, but you’re so… big.” You glanced down at his length with a look that bordered on hunger, subconsciously licking your lips before meeting his eyes again. You bit down again on your lower lip as you felt him twitch beneath you, and he felt your hips pressing against his hands as if seeking his grip.
Loki smirked, unable to help preening somewhat even as he gazed at the way your breasts bounced in your tank top when you picked up the pace. “You’re so wet already,” he whispered, unable to help the smirk becoming a hopeful grin. He watched your face as he reached towards your underwear, pushing them aside only when you gave him a small nod and pulled back enough for him to do so. He ran a long finger slowly up your bare slit, gasping softly despite himself at the heat and the slick he found there. He looked up at you, blue eyes wolfish. “Is this all for me?” He watched your eyes widen as he brought the finger back to his mouth, giving it a thoughtful lick. “Or has no one been taking care of you like you need, sweetheart?”
You looked away, your expression both needy and embarrassed, and the sight made him twitch slightly underneath you. “I got myself off twice this morning thinking of sparring you. Trust me when I say it’s for you,” you confessed. Loki had to very quickly had to pick up his jaw when it dropped slightly, not wanting to give away how much you were affecting him. “I really did want to see you — fuck, Loki, I always want to see you,” you said in a tone nearing pleading, looking back to meet his eyes. “I just didn’t want to make it weird if you didn’t feel the same. I care about you… so much.” You looked down sheepishly with a soft, nervous laugh. “Once we were friends, I was so worried about ruining that by being something you didn’t want.”
Loki gazed at you, for once at a loss for words. “You…” He fumbled for a rare moment, trying to find his voice. Slowly, his hands moved from your hips to cradle your face, holding it as if it were glass. Whether his ordinarily elegant fingers shook slightly from nerves, or from the fight to maintain some form of composure with you on top of him, neither of you could say. “There is no way, in any of the Nine Realms,” he said softly. “That I would not want you.” He smiled slightly as you gasped under your breath, your expression disbelieving. “You have bewitched me, utterly, since we’ve been together in this Tower. I came here to serve my sentence thinking it would be a an endless drudgery, but since you have been so… kind, to me,” he licked his lips nervously. “Especially when I did not deserve it, when I was so pointlessly disdainful of you when we met - I find that I think of you constantly. That I look for you everywhere, and when I cannot find you… well.” He nodded towards your door, a bit embarrassed himself. “I come looking.”
He dropped a hand to your hip, pulling you again against him to watch you twitch softly and whine. “Feel this,” he whispered. “Feel how much I’ve longed for this, even when I didn’t dare hope. Know that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to please you, to make you feel better, no urge I wouldn’t do everything to satisfy.”
His hand that was still on your face traced down your cheekbone with feather-light fingertips, stopping only to trace your lips. “All you have to do,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “Is ask.”
You stared at him a moment, your face caught between the keen desire you obviously felt, and - an emerging smile, one that contained a trace of the cheek that had captured his heart to begin with. Carefully, you lifted your hand to his, taking it from your face and kissing the back of it with a melting sweetness. “Please, Loki?”
Loki felt his tentativeness fall away, his eyes darkening as he stared into yours. Gently taking his hand from your grip, he brushed some of your hair away from your face. “…As you wish, darling.”
Your surprised giggle was lost as Loki took hold of your hips again in an iron grip, surprising you as he flipped you onto the mattress beneath him. Your startled laugh twisted into an enthusiastic moan as he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with a depth that left you breathless for a moment as his tongue traced the inside of your mouth. His hips still crushed against yours, rutting slightly against the heat he felt there. Forcing himself away, he instead moved a hand to the waistband of your underwear, his long fingers dipping beneath the elastic to find your clit. You had been close before this, and with only a few minutes’ careful pressure, he smiled against your mouth as you fell apart for the first time.
“Now just relax,” he murmured, pressing a chilled kiss to your temple that had ached. “Let me take care of you.”
“But,” you protested against him, the tiniest bit of a pout to your voice as you met his eyes. “I want this to feel good for you too.”
Loki laughed quietly, his hands finding the hem of your tank top. “Oh, Pet,” he purred, loving the way the sound made your eyes light up. “I promise you don’t have to worry about that.” With a gentle tug, he pulled the flimsy fabric off you, leaving your torso bare beneath him. When he saw you cross your arms over your soft stomach just slightly, as if without realizing, he sat up and stripped off his own. He was unwilling to make you feel more vulnerable than him, determined to have you feel equal in all of this.
He felt himself smirk again, just a little, as your eyes took in his bare torso with a look of unmistakable desire. He made a point for you to see him looking at you just as hungrily, gently pulling your forearms apart so he could straddle your thighs, and kiss the skin of your soft stomach. He nuzzled the supple flesh there with the tip of his nose before licking a cool stripe up the skin beneath your navel, relishing the soft noise you made as you shivered under his touch. He curled his fingers around the waistband of your underwear again, looking up to your face with watchful eyes before he made a move.
He couldn’t help but feel his chest ache as you looked shy again, gazing at him down the line of your body through your lashes. “I… If you want to,” you said, though it was clear from the way you squirmed beneath his fingertips that you very much wanted him to.
Loki made a point to meet your eyes. “Darling,” he said, his voice newly rough. “There’s nothing I’ve wanted more for quite some time now.” He pulled the fabric down your thighs, and off your legs as you lifted your ankles for him, and he held himself over your hips on his forearms, gazing hungrily at your glistening cunt between the beautifully blank skin of your solid thighs.
“Now,” he glanced up at you again, enjoying the sight of your face at once so delighted and sheepish. “Don’t you dare try to keep yourself quiet, and don’t even think about not telling me what you want. Understood?”
You nodded, your eyes shining with want. “Please, Loki.” Your voice wasn’t a question, this time - rather a hopeful mewl, one that went straight to the aching pressure building at the base of his spine.
Loki dipped his head, his long dark hair fanning across your thighs as his tongue plunged into your folds. Between your slick and his eager mouth, the noises were near obscene as he grabbed your thighs in either hand. He held them apart with an impressive strength, thumbs circling in the impossibly soft skin there as you bucked your hips beneath him. His tongue, indeed silver in this case, caressed your clit and the other spots in you that made you writhe beneath him. When he pressed it into your core, wanting to fill you, he tasted the hint of blood that had caused you this pain to begin with. As if to take it from you, he redoubled his efforts, your juices coating his mouth and chin as he devoured you.
There were Midgardian myths, he’d heard, of fruit that once eaten would bring the hungry soul to a new world - whether expelling them from paradise, or making them belong to another realm entirely, their soul to wander there forever unless only the will of another god intervened. As he tasted you, feeling your thighs twitch and shake against his palms, his hunger for you causing your hands to tangle hard in his hair, he knew for a fact this was the latter. Midgard was an underworld he was willing to linger in, so long as you were here with him in the dark.
“Loki, please,” your soft whine had become a groan now, deep with need. He relished the genuine sound of it, the knowledge that this came from a place in you that was beyond spectacle or performance. He felt himself dripping against your sheets, his hips pushing shallowly against the mattress for friction as you pushed yourself harder against his mouth. “Loki, more, oh god, please more—“
Loki looked up just long enough for you to let out a breath at the sharpness of his eyes, at the way his tongue lapped up the slick you’d left on him. “As you wish,” he breathed, before he sucked hard on your clit and heard your voice almost break with relief. His tongue lavished you until, with a small choked gasp, you whined his name again, your hands tangling harder in his hair. He moaned softly in anticipation, and the vibrations of that were enough to pull you over. You came apart against him, writhing hard, pulling his hair without realizing it in the most delicious way, and he felt the warmth of your release coat his face anew as he continued to tease you through your orgasm.
When at last you whimpered your surrender, he sat up on his forearms, licking away the excess as he watched your chest heave as you caught your breath.
“Are you alright, Pet?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your quivering thigh. “How are you feeling?”
You let out a long, shaky breath. “Give me a sec,” you murmured, gazing sightlessly at the colorful lights above you. “I’ll tell you when I stop seeing stars.”
Loki chuckled darkly, amused. “Better, then?”
“Almost,” you sighed. He felt himself frown, wondering if he’d left something undone as you looked at him, the shattered expression of a moment ago replaced quickly with unabashed desire. “I want you.”
Loki himself stared for a moment - it wasn’t a sentiment he often heard, and the way the words felt like tiny lights were being lit along his spine and inside his brain was overwhelming. You surprised him when you reached down, grabbing his hands and urging him up the mattress.
Unable to help a grin at your enthusiasm, he made his way up your torso, his mouth crashing against yours in a desperate kiss. He felt you explore inside his mouth, humming softly at the taste of yourself on his tongue. His aching cock rested against your folds, and when he felt himself slide between them against your clit, you both moaned. For a moment, he was content to linger there, moving his hips against yours so the underside of his shaft was coated in your warm slick.
“Gods,” he hissed through his teeth, looking down at you with his own pupils blown wide. “I could lose myself just- just here, you witch—“
“I want you in me, though,” you whined, your hands finding his shoulders and raking your nails over them. He gasped at the feeling, lining himself up with your entrance.
“You have to tell me,” he said thickly, swallowing. “You have to tell me if I need to stop, or slow down…”
“I will,” you promised, nodding feverishly. You pressed your forehead to his. “I trust you, Loki. You won’t hurt me.”
In his haze of need, Loki felt the ache return to his chest, and he gave you a bruising kiss. “Never,” he agreed, not quite coherent. “I would never. You’re too sweet, I could never…”
He trailed off as you rocked down against him, inhaling through grit teeth as he slid inside you. He watched your face as your eyes squeezed shut, biting your lip for a moment as you took a fair part of his length. “Fuck, Loki,” you whined, and the way you squeezed around him made him pant.
“You’re doing so well, darling,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You take me like you were made for this. Look at you,” he eased his hips against yours, pushing himself further in as you moaned into his shoulder. “Tell me if you need me to wait, if you want me to stop-“
“No,” you shook your head, your breath shallow. “More. I want all of you.”
Loki’s hand flew to yours on the mattress, pulling it over your head and squeezing it tightly in his own. With a soft grunt, he pressed further into you, the clenching resistance seeming to overwhelm all his senses completely. “Love?”
“M’okay,” you squeezed the hand holding yours, panting softly still.
Loki kissed the base of your throat, your shoulder, now fully sheathed inside you and feeling you stretch to accommodate him. He lifted his head for a moment and looked between the two of you to see the soft bump in your lower abdomen, and when he moved inside you, the corresponding motion of it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever seen.
“Gorgeous,” he whispered, looking to your face - where he saw you were also gazing at the bump, your eyes wide. “You’re gorgeous.” He kissed you hard. “Look at how well you take me, Sweet, look at how perfectly—“ he was cut off by his own groan, feeling you around him. “I could stay here for ages. Eons. You feel amazing.”
Your eyes were wide, moving against him as you bit your lip. “Fuck,” you whispered, and when his eyes snapped to yours, you looked at him imploringly. “Loki, I’m- you fill me,” your voice became a whine as you squirmed on his cock. “Loki, you fill me completely, I’ve- oh. I’ve never felt like this.”
Loki was torn between the wave of pleasure this statement sent through him and his concern for you. “Does it hurt?” He murmured, his thumb nervously stroking your hip. “Do I need to—“
“Don’t you dare,” you said immediately, your free hand tangling itself in his hair again. “Don’t leave me, not yet, I just— I don’t know how long I’ll-“ You shuddered hard around him, your hips bucking reflexively agains the sensation.
Loki kissed your forehead. “That’s alright,” he murmured. “That’s fine, beautiful. Let me take care of you.” He moved his hand from your hip to where your hand was tangled in his hair, gently untangling it and moving it over your head with the first. He entangled his fingers with yours again, giving your hand a squeeze before slowly thrusting into you.
With a moan, your hips met his, and as gentle was he was trying to be, your needy sounds and eager movements soon caused him to give up on this entirely. He snapped his hips against yours, giving into the demanding pressure building in him, chasing the crushing wave of sensation setting his nerves on fire.
“Please don’t stop,” you murmured, pressing kisses to Loki’s jawline as your hips began to stutter beneath his. “Please, please don’t stop.”
“As you wish,” Loki said with a dark laugh, making you cry out as he gave a bruising nip to the pulse point on your neck. “I’ll give my needy little sweet exactly what they want, don’t worry.”
That what you wanted happened to be what he wanted, and wanted desperately, was delicious. His hips were starting to lose their rhythm, his thrusts becoming more desperate, harder, as he felt himself close to the edge, knowing you must be close with him from the way your walls were fluttering around him.
At last, with a sob of his name, he felt a second rush of your warmth coat him entirely, slicking the tops of your thighs as he continued fucking into you.
This was enough to bring him down, between the heat, the sounds, and the way his name fell off your lips with every pant like a prayer, Loki came undone with a cry of his own, skin flushed at the feeling of his seed filling you.
As he felt himself collapse, he withdrew his hands from yours, trying to hold his weight on his arms. You, apparently, wouldn’t stand for even a little distance, instead reaching up to pull him down against your soft torso. Your hands were careful on his back, rubbing his shoulders, pressing kisses to his cheek. He felt himself smile, returning the kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, before at last seeking your lips again.
With a sigh, he rested his forehead against yours, feeling your heart slowing down against his chest and wondering if you could feel his thudding just as strongly. “Well,” he whispered with a cheeky smile, his voice strained and his dark hair falling somewhat into his eyes. “How are you feeling now?”
You laughed, and to his relief, there was no strain to it. “Much better, honestly,” you grinned, brushing his hair away. “Truly, my Prince has a talent for curing what ails me.”
“Oh,” Loki breathed, moving to kiss you suddenly. “Call me that again.”
You blinked, looking surprised. “‘My Prince’?” You reached up, stroking his cheek with your fingertips. “But… you are a prince, though.” Your smile returned, now somewhat shy. “You’re far too handsome to be anything but.”
Loki laughed now, unexpectedly flustered. “I may be - a prince, I mean,” he said. His hand moved to stroke the soft skin of your bare shoulder. “But I find the title much more satisfying when you call me your prince.”
Your face - your beautifully open face, something he treasured about you - changed, your eyes lighting up in a mixture of adoration and something he couldn’t quite place. “Then you are,” you murmured. You leaned up to press your lips to his. “If you want to be - as long as you want to be - you’re my Prince.” Your arms moved from his back to wind around his neck. “Or my Princess, or my Liege, or - anything. As long as it’s you, I’m happy, and lucky. And… yours, in return.” You punctuated each addition with a kiss until you pulled back to meet his eye at the last, your smile shy as if disbelieving.
Loki felt a rare blush creep to his cheeks. He was… unused, to say the least, to thinking of anyone as lucky to have him. Much less wanting to be his. He kissed you once, slowly, the tension of everything between you before now melting into something new, something far sweeter than he had dared hope.
When the two of you parted, your lips kiss-swollen, your breathing back to normal, Loki reluctantly pulled away from you. With a small whine of protest from you both, he settled to your side, making himself comfortable in your bed as if he’d been there for ages.
You kissed the end of his nose, humming contentedly. “I… should probably get something to clean us up,” you said shyly, tilting your head briefly at the mess you two had made of the sheets.
“Don’t you dare move,” he murmured, a sleepy smile coming to his face. “I told you, I’d take care of you.” Brushing your hair away from your face with one hand, his other made a lazy looping gesture with his fingers. With a brief flash of green, he had not only cleaned you both, and the sheets, he had conjured a new pair of soft pajama pants for himself at the end of the bed. For you, resting next to it, he’d summoned something else: a Midgardian hoodie he’d adopted, reluctantly, since he’d come here with his brother. It was a deep forest green, matching his usual Asgardian wear, but far softer - something he’d come to appreciate, as much as he’d refuse to admit it.
As he donned his own summoned pants, he watched you move to the end of the bed, picking up the hoodie to inspect it with wide eyes. You looked between it and your now-fresh sheets, the surprise written all over your face. “…Yeah, you’re going to have to teach me how to do that. That’s neat as hell.” You grinned at him, pulling the hoodie over your head as if you’d always been wearing his clothes. It fell down your thighs, and Loki watched, enchanted, as you adjusted it to your liking by rolling up the sleeves to your elbows and pulling the hem down further still. When you thought he wasn’t looking, he caught you sniffing the collar, smiling as you had the night before. He hoped, distinctly, that he was have many opportunities to enjoy the miracle that was the smile you thought he wouldn’t see.
As the two of you settled again on your bed, you fit yourself neatly to his side, snuggling into the warmth of his hoodie with a smile. He looped an arm around your waist, hoping you maybe couldn’t hear how his heart thudded so hard in his chest he thought it would explode.
After a moment of cozy silence, you looked up suddenly, your eyes bright again. “So - I know it’s the middle of the day. But since you’ve started quoting it so much,” you said, unable to help a coy smile. “I thought maybe I should actually show you the rest of The Princess Bride.”
Loki smiled himself, resting his head on your spare pillow as he had earlier. “Only if you promise we don’t have to leave your bed. I’ve found I quite like it here,” he said, taking your hand in his again. “And I’m not inclined to leave anytime soon.”
“As you wish, my Prince.” You leaned forward, kissing his cheek again before picking up the remote for your TV. Loki kept his arm around your waist, unable to help thinking about how much of an upgrade today had been from merely sparring. Though, he thought, remembering your earlier confession with another jolt to his core, perhaps that would lead to its own kind of fun in time.
As the film began, Loki frowned as you rested your head on his chest, snuggling into him. “Hang on,” he said. “I was sure this was happening in a kingdom of some sort.”
“It was,” you nodded, your eyes on the young boy and his grandfather on screen.
“So why are we suddenly in the 1980s?” He glanced at you. “If it is even the ‘80s? I do find Midgardian decades easily confused, still.”
You giggled. “Just watch, Lokes, they’ll explain it.”
Loki glanced at you with a sudden rush of fondness - not just for the sound of your laugh, but for the newfound nickname. He was going to have to get used to those, he supposed. He pressed a kiss again to your head, settling in to finish the story at last.
Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader
Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU
Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away)
Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand
A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth @bfharry and @hardcandy-harry for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!!
Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.
Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.
As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.
She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.
It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’
The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.
Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.
For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.
The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.
He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.
“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.
“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.
“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.
“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.
Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.
“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.
“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.
“You’ll have to show me sometime.”
Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.
“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”
“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”
She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”
No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.
Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.
The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.
He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.
“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.
“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”
His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.
Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.
She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.
For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.
Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.
The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.
The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.
She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.
Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”
“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.
“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.
Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.
Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.
“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”
“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.
“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”
“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”
“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”
“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”
Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”
For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.
She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.
Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.
They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.
When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.
Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.
She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.
“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.
“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.
“Can I sit?”
“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”
“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.
“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.
“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”
A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.
“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.
“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.
“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.
Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.
“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”
“So have I.”
“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.
“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.
“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”
“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”
“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”
“I think I can do that, wifey.”
The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.
The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”
“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.
The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.
Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.
“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.
“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.
Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.
When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.
“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.
“Why are you here?”
“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”
“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.
She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.
“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.
“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.
“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”
She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.
“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”
“And which ones are those?”
“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”
“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”
“Did she really?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.
“I’m sure that's not true.”
“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”
She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.
“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”
“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”
Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.
“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”
“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.
First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.
“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”
“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.
“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”
She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”
His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.
“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”
The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.
“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”
She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”
She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.
And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.
Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.
“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.
“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.
“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.
Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.
It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.
She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care. She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.
They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.
When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.
His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.
Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.
She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.
He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.
They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.
“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.
Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.
She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.
They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.
That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.
“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.
“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”
“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.
She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.
When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.
The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.
“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.
“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.
“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”
“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.
They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.
And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.
Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.
Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.
“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.
“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.
“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”
They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.
“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.
Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.
“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”
His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.
It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.
Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.
Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.
“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.
His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.
She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.
Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart.
“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.”
They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.
“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”
Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.
As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.
“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. “You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”
“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.
“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”
The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.
“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”
“So do I, Harry.”
The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.
Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.
“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.
She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.
His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.
She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.
She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.
He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”
“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.
The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.
It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.
They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.
But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.
In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.
Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.
The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.
She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.
“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”
“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”
Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.
She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”
The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.
She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.
She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.
It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.
Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.
First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.
“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.
She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.
She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.
Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.
She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.
She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral. Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.
He left his door open all day everyday.
When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.
“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.
The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.
“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.
She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”
“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.
“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.
“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”
He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”
He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”
She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.
She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.
“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.
He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.
Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.
Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.
He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.
But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.
Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”
Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.
This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.
But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.
She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.
“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”
“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.
The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.
“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.
“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.
Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.
“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.
“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.
“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”
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