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shreddedparchment · 14 days

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The Garden Gate

Pairing: Medieval!Loki x Reader Word Count: 6,514

Warnings: smut, mentions of infidelity, language, bodily fluids, jealousy, Loki in a poofy shirt

A/N: Well, I haven't done this in a while. I had to go look for an old post to see how I used to do these openings. LUL Anywho, y'all can thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for this one. She sent me a picture and then I asked her for three characters and three scenarios and this one is the one that spoke to me the most. I did put my own spin on it but that's just me. Anywho, I'm not sure how many of my old readers will read this but I hope y'all like it. Anything y'all have to say about it is also greatly appreciated. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs!!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Your family’s fall from grace had been nothing short of spectacular.

It had started first with the crumbling of respect from the men and heads of other houses. The gentry had taken offense to the shame of your father and eldest brother’s retreat at the battle for Carmine Valley, so named for the blush of trees that peppered the expanse of lush green and the strange but beautiful red waters of the central lake.

Had Lord Odinson’s own knights not been flanking from the western ridges, the valley would have fallen into the hands of the northern enemy forces. A great loss seeing as the valley was the largest producer of grain and vegetables in the kingdom.

The fallout had been catastrophic. Both your father and brother had been sent to the wild woods to the southernmost parts of the kingdom to work off their shame and languish in the dangerous labor camps where men were said to be torn into shreds by beasts as large as a carriage.

Even though you loved them very much, you couldn’t help the anger within your veins at their betrayal to not only the kingdom, but to your very family. The abandonment that their retreat meant. They knew what doing so would do to you, your mother, and younger brother.

If it were not for the King’s good nature, you’d have no doubt found yourself working in some brothel alongside your mother leaving your younger brother, at the tender age of seven, exposed to the worst parts of society.

The seediest brothels were not above selling children, you knew. No matter that the King had signed a death warrant for anyone known to sell or buy said company. It was the worst of sins and it breaks your heart to know that one man’s generosity saved all three of you from that life when he could have very well condemned it.

Knowing this–knowing how bad it could have been–doesn’t change the fact that your life now is still torture. Torture of a different kind, but torture all the same.

The King’s kindness came in the form of service. While your family was stripped of all titles and wealth, you’d also lost your beloved.

That is the true source of agony in your chest as you struggle with the bucket of waste water you’re holding, trying desperately not to slosh it around too hard. The last thing you want to do is to go to bed smelling of someone else’s bodily fluids.

The thick wool of your simple navy dress and the apron you keep tied over it are both great for absorbing disgusting materials. Already in need of a wash, the white ruffle along the neckline is frayed and yellowing despite the gown being only a few months old.

Edging along the courtyard wall, you try not to rush. The exhaustion in your body begs for sleep. Even months later the labor of working in the castle as a servant to former peers has not grown easier.

Wincing as the rough rope of the bucket burns the center of your palms, you almost sigh but instead freeze at the sight before you.

You’d know his silhouette anywhere.

The light is low here, a small lamp just beyond the open garden gate illuminates them from behind and hides their expressions but you don’t need to see to understand.

Her lips are parted, head pressed back against the door, hand braced against the warm brown and ornately carved wood. Her legs are parted a little too wide, a subtle motion of his left arm and the bunch of fabric around his forearm tell you enough of what you’ve stumbled upon.

You’re embarrassed and try to fade back into the darkness of the small courtyard behind you.

His shoulder length hair, black as a raven’s feather, is disheveled. You notice her hand gripping it tightly as his arm pumps.

A wispy, sultry moan slips through her parted lips and you stumble, gasping your own bit of surprise as you try not to spill the bucket’s contents.

A small splash, luckily away from you but the shuffle of feet and the rustle of fabric tells you that you’ve been noticed.

You look up, Lord Loki stands facing you, hands fisted as she hides behind him quickly adjusting her skirts.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lord Loki says, disdain in his voice.

Everyone here hates you. You already know this. Your father’s sins are your own. Nothing can change that.

“Finally where you belong,” the girl says and you recognize the voice with a small shock of pain in your chest. “You smell like piss.”

Lord Loki chuckles and you shrink just a little. More embarrassed by your own situation than catching them in the act. In fact, you’re disgusted by both of them, not only because of their audacity to do this at all, but because the woman whose fingers Lord Loki were just in is also your once beloved’s fiance.

Your former confidant. Lady Amora Antress. You’d once considered her your closest friend. Now here she stands, betrothed to one brother while fucking the other. The venom she spits at you is also unappreciated and painful to hear.

How long had she hated you before your downfall? How long had she waited before pursuing Thor?

“Aren’t you going to reply to her ladyship, servant?” Lord Loki asks, gleeful mirth in his voice as he takes a step towards you.

You bow your head even more, holding the bucket in your hands as still as you can while your hands struggle with the burn of the rope.

Amora scoff, “Pathetic. Leave her be, Loki. She’s where she deserves to be. She’s not worth the breath in our lungs.”

You don’t mean to cry. The utter betrayal of your once friend hurts more even than the loss of your once future husband.

“Are you crying?” Amora laughs, moving around Lord Loki, her shoes clicking against the brick of the courtyard. She stops in front of you, arms crossed over her ample bosom, still exposed more than it should be from what she and Lord Loki were just about to do. “You’re pathetic. The least you could do is be invisible while you serve.”

You say nothing, fist tightening around the rope. Pain shifts into rage at the cruelty in her words.

The wind blows and you can smell the scent of their near copulation. Luckily, it’s driven away by the vines of jasmine that creep along the tops of the brick wall.

She doesn’t deserve Thor. But you know that he never deserved you either. The rate at which he moved on…

Almost as if she’s sensing your thoughts, she takes a step closer and drops her voice to a whisper. You know Lord Loki will still be able to hear.

“Poor little flower, so careless and trusting.” She smiles. “You know it was so easy to seduce Thor. Even before your disgrace of a father betrayed his kingdom, Thor came to my bed often. Such a chaste little thing you were. You had no idea that every night after he whispered sweet promises in your ear of a happy future, he was burying his cock deep in my cunt, whispering how glorious I felt around him. Promising that even after you married, he would slip away and fuck me because no cunt could be as good as mine.”

Whore. Your heart shattered. Finally your eyes met hers.

She took a slight step back at whatever she saw in them. The hatred coursing through you set your teeth on edge. You wanted so much to rip her hair from its roots. If you could gouge her eyes out with your fingers without the consequence of a beheading, you would.

Perhaps she could see that promise of death in your eyes.

She scoffed, a reaction to whatever fear she felt in that moment.

“Now, now, ladies.” Lord Loki chastised, “Let’s keep things civil.”

“Civility? From a servant?” Amora looked at him then back at you, her hateful smirk twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

No…this is her true face. Her long blonde hair, pale skin, and green eyes might make her superficially beautiful, but you can see the true ugliness in her now.

“Trash knows no civility.” She spits.

Done with this encounter you make to move around her to finish your duties. You need rest. Body and now soul exhausted, the sanctuary of your quarters beckons like a beacon.

She steps in your way, smiling cruelly as she does.

You make to move around her again. She blocks you once more.

Body shaking with rage, you don’t bother stopping this time as she steps in front of you. Instead you let yourself fall against her, your bucket sloshing loudly as you angle the wide opening towards her.

The smell of piss and shit slices through the scent of sex and jasmine.

Amora screams, stepping back quickly until she bumps into Lord Loki who quickly pushes her away from himself, a wrinkle of disgust on his handsome face.

The green damask pattern of her silk gown grows slowly darker as the piss soaks into the fabric. A dark brown stain sets in towards the bottom.

“You probably should have moved out of my way, my lady.” The casual tone of your voice, the respect you can now fake like a professional grifter sounds so real that your taunt sounds like an apology.

“You bitch!” Amora growls.

Lord Loki catches her by the arm before she can move towards you.

“Perhaps, Lady Antress, you may want to go and change? If what you say is true and my brother will seek you out, I doubt very much he’d desire your company if you smell like shit and piss. No matter how delicious your cunt may be.” Lord Loki’s smirk gives away his delight at Amora’s distress.

Almost as soon as he’s grabbed her, he drops his hand and angles himself away from her slowly to avoid being soiled as well.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you curtsy, a perfect bow. “It was an accident.”

Amora glares at you then looks at Lord Loki who has taken to pressing the fingers of his right hand against his nose to shield from the smell, affixing her with a look of amused disgust.

Amora huffs, “Fuck you.” Then turns and stomps past you across the courtyard and disappears into the castle.

“That was nicely done,” Lord Loki says once you’re alone.

You give him a quick curtsy and move towards the gate to toss the remaining waste where it belongs in the river just past the far end of the large hedged garden.

Ignoring the sound of his following footsteps against the gravel and footstones, you wander through the fragrant rows of flowers.

“If anyone had been watching, no one would have doubted your sincerity with that apology.” He declares, hastening his footsteps to catch up with you, settling in to your right as he matches your pace. “I’m impressed. You never gave me the impression that you even knew how to lie let alone be deceptive.”

Grinding your teeth, you attempt to ignore him. You don’t engage.

He reaches out to grab your arm but you stop and twist away from him, disgust on your face as you stare at his left hand pointedly.

For a moment he looks confused and then laughs once in realization and takes his hand back.

“You won’t tell my brother, will you? About my…meeting with Lady Antress?” Lord Loki doesn’t sound like he actually cares.

You know that he and Thor never truly got along once they were of age. As children they had been inseparable. You’d followed them around and they’d welcomed you into their company as a playmate despite your gender.

Not until you also were of age did you realize that your parents and their parents had seen your friendship as an indicator of good fortune for a future marriage.

As the elder brother, Thor had been chosen. Your heart, having been devoted to Thor even as a girl, had been so full. Eagerly you’d thrown yourself into the arrangement of your marriage. Only now did you begin to realize that perhaps your heart had been the only one truly invested in the promises that Thor had made.

Agony cuts you again, tearing your heart apart a little more as the feeling of stupidity makes your eyes prick with tears again.

“Did you truly not know that Thor and Amora were fucking?” Lord Loki asks, voice devoid of anything but genuine curiosity.

A tear slips down along your cheek as you turn and resume your walk. Lord Loki follows.

“You wound me.” He says, voice low. “Were we not also friends before?”

Scoffing, you readjust the bucket and wince at the pain of the rope as you feel your skin break. You drop it, Lord Loki stepping back quickly but nothing splashes out this time. Most of the contents were currently soaking through Amara’s gown.

You lift your hand up, staring at the peel of skin and the slick of the pink muscle beneath as red begins to pool along the edges of the tear.

Just another wound. It’ll seal and heal and scar, joining the others on your once smooth hands.

The bite of pain gives you a reason to let your tears fall. You don’t hold them back as you sob quietly, uncaring of the audience to your humiliation.

“He’s an asshole,” Lord Loki states, stepping up in front of you. “Always has been. Arrogant, proud, and foolhardy. Thinks with his cock more than his brain.”

Again, you scoff. The irony of Lord Loki, whom you just caught fingering your former best friend in the garden, telling you that Thor thinks first with his cock does not escape you.

Lord Loki clears his throat, embarrassed?

“If I’d been your betrothed,” Lord Loki continues. “I’d have worshiped the ground you walk on.”

“You’re a liar, and just as susceptible to Amara’s games as he apparently is. Does it make you feel happy to sleep with your brother’s fiance? Does it give you pleasure to betray him?” You spit at him, angry at yourself, at Thor, at Amara, at your father and brother.

You’re just so angry. You’re always angry now. Even when you’re sad, you’re angry.

“Are you really worried about my betrayal against him when Amara just exposed him for the hypocrite he is?” Lord Loki demands, a little affronted by your ire.

Biting down hard on your lip, you squeeze around the wound on your hand.

“You’re all hypocrites. All of you deserve each other.” You realize and reach down to take the bucket again but are stopped by Lord Loki’s hand as it takes hold of the bucket for you.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead moves towards the gate at the end of the garden.

Quickly, you hurry after him, eager to take the bucket from him before anyone might look out onto the grounds and see him interfering with your duties. The punishment you’d receive would be painful.

“My Lord, please,” you finally beg, unable to really catch up with his long legged stride. “I’ll be punished if they find out.”

Lord Loki says nothing but strides out through the gate into the wooded expanse behind the garden.

Expertly, probably from the many hunts he’s gone on around the castle, he winds through the trees towards the rushing river whose roar you begin to hear.

“My Lord,” you hurry after him, nearly catching up but then he turns and disappears behind a tree only to emerge before another one. “Please,” you beg.

Taking a quick glance behind you towards the castle and its countless illuminated windows, you don’t see anyone watching but panic has begun to take hold.

He shifts and turns, stomping over the wild grass, the occasional crack of twig or fallen branch as he steps onto it, eaten by the rush of the water now louder.

You’re almost running now to keep up with him and still you lose sight of him when he turns around a particularly large tree. You stop beside it, scanning the area for him desperately.

The dungeons are so damp this time of year. You don’t want to get locked up if you can help it. Illness is something you don’t have much experience with and with your body weak and unhealthy now compared to the grace and flush of perfection you’d been with money and a constantly full belly, you might succumb to any serious illness.

You don’t want to die, despite the hardships you face.

With no sign of him, you move towards the section of river you always go to empty your buckets.

Minutes later you break through the treeline and spot Lord Loki crouched by the water, damp bucket set beside him now empty and rinsed.

Breathing heavily, you try to catch your breath and press your hand against your thundering heart, forgetting for a moment about the wound there and hiss.

Lord Loki rises, turning to look at you with a furrowed brow as he shakes the water from his hands and dries them on his dark emerald jerkin. He pulls down the puffed sleeves of his black shirt, fastening them around his wrists again but only finishes one before he’s holding his hand out for you.

“Come,” he orders. Not a request.

You don’t move, holding your wounded hand still as you watch him, pale skin nearly glowing in the light of the moon.

“Come here,” he orders again and this time you move towards him only a step. He steps towards you once, his hand held up again with more emphasis. “Shall I say please? Am I wrong? Were we not also friends?”

He smirks, amused by your hesitation for some reason.

Asshole. How dare he throw the past in your face. It’s coercion to remind you of your bond as children.

Unwilling to let him get the satisfaction of seeing you be defiant, you close the distance between you.

He takes your hand, holding it up close so that he can see it clearly. The moon is bright enough that he can and he pulls you towards the river’s edge. Squatting down again, he pulls you down with him.

You kneel, inching towards the edge as he pulls your hand into the water.

A hiss escapes your lips as the water coats the wound, tugging at the bit of skin still holding on until it tears free.

He holds it under the water for a minute then brings it back up to examine, pulling your arm so that you shift to face him and he does the same, kneeling before you.

“It’ll scar,” he realizes, but notes the other small scars that now cover your palm underneath the base of each finger.

You watch him as he traces each scar with his thumb, the golden emerald ring on his finger cool to the touch after being submerged in the cold river water for a bit. It feels nice against the heated skin of your palms. The friction of the rope burning them both.

“I remember when your hands were soft,” he notes.

Self conscious, you make to yank your hand from his grip but he tightens it and meets your eyes in silent order not to try that again.

Holding your gaze, he brings your palm up towards his mouth. Heart hammering against your chest, you try again to yank it from him but his lips close around the wound.

A strange tumble of knots in your stomach work their way up into your chest and constrict your heart.

More strange than that, a shift between your legs has your face and neck burning. Ears so hot that the breeze of the late spring air feels cold in comparison.

“Stop that,” you tell him, voice weak from shock at both his actions and your body’s reaction to it.

He does. Pulling your hand away from his mouth to look the wound over.

“The bleeding stopped,” he states, then reaches for your apron.

The tearing of fabric sends our heart seizing but more arousal pools between your legs. Embarrassed, you look away from him as he wraps your hand tightly. He must have dealt with many small injuries on his hunts because he ties the wrap around your palm securely and nothing save for cutting the fabric away will undo it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and deep. Almost dark in the way it slithers across your skin in a sultry embrace.

“No.” You answer honestly. “And it’s probably only because I caught you and you didn’t get to stick it in Amara.”

He releases your hand as you pull against his grip but he reaches forward to place his hand on your cheek. His left hand.

You almost pull away but remember him drying his hands on his vest. He’d deliberately washed both hands. Why?

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I would have worshiped the ground you walk on. I still can, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m a servant,” you spit, turning to look at him with anger and betrayal. “Anything you do to me will be forced merely by the fact that I cannot deny you anything you might want.”

Lord Loki frowns.

“You think so badly of me?” He wonders, hurt in his green eyes.

Your mind flashes back to your childhood. You, Thor, and Lord Loki running to the stables of his estate. You fall. Both Thor and Lord Loki stop but it’s Lord Loki that rushes back to you, helping you up and dusting you off as you cry loudly.

Thor rushes away, laughing in his eagerness to mount his horse.

More memories of your childhood assault you with images of Lord Loki and his kindness. Frequent acts of compassion and what you might have once considered friendly love. Thor’s are fewer and mostly contained to the days after your betrothal had been agreed upon.

“You will never be a servant to me,” Lord Loki assures you.

“It is what I am,” you counter. “You cannot simply ignore it.”

Lord Loki sighs, “You’ve always been so stubborn.”

He lets his hand glide down along the side of your neck, over your shoulder, down along your arm, and then he settles it along the side of your waist, the shape stiff thanks to the corset underneath.

It’s almost unbearable that he’s here, in your shame of servitude. His touch is confusing. You almost ask him why it feels so strange but instead focus on what’s most important.

“Is it true?” you ask, voice wary and quiet.

“Is what true?” There are so many things you could mean, you realize.

Part of you almost doesn’t want to know. So you hesitate.

Something softens in Lord Loki’s eyes as if he suddenly knows what you’re going to ask.

“Were…did Thor and Amara…?” You shake your head, trying not to let the pain show.

“Yes,” he answers, voice firm. He wants you to know that it’s true. No hesitation in his answer. “A few times even with you nearby. You almost caught them a handful of times. Were you only a few moments earlier or later.”

Head falling, you can’t help the tears that spring forth. So much of your past had been a lie. The strength of your house. The friendships you held dear. Your betrothed hadn’t truly loved you. If he had, he would not have betrayed you.

“My brother paints a pretty picture. Despite what he wants others to think he is changeable. He is impatient. Clearly that was his undoing with you. He is rash and prideful. He doesn’t think about what he does before he does it and because he would be insulted by it, would it not be sweet revenge to dangle what he wanted most in the open for all to see?” His words are slow and sure.

The last bit of his speech is careful and calculated. You can hear the manipulation in his words even though he tries not to let you. You’ve known him too long. Lord Loki also changed when you were betrothed to Thor. A shift of his usual kindness had taken place and the sneering Lord had been born. Intent on his own machinations to pry forth the dreary truths of his life.

He’d never been cold and harsh but he became so after your engagement. Thor had called him a snake and even then you could see it. The skill with which Lord Loki had developed his manipulating tactics and the precision with which he enabled them are known to you.

So you know what he’s saying even if he won’t say it clearly.

He takes hold of your chin and slowly lifts your head until he can see your eyes. There’s a strange eagerness in his own greens as he tries to read you. There’s a question there, an uncertain probing as his hand at your waist grows tighter, wrapping around to rest on your back, arching your body towards him.

That strange feeling between your legs surges. It’s Amara’s sneering face that breaks down your defenses. It’s the pride in her words as she’d bragged about being with Thor while you were still betrothed to him that shatters your will.

You do want to get revenge. You want Thor to know that you don’t care anymore. That he means as little to you now as you did to him then.

And what better way to show him that than with the one person he’d hate it happening with the most?

He might overlook some random stablehand. He might ignore some merchant’s son, even if he were above your station.

With Lord Loki…the bite would be as harsh as the sting of Amara’s venom was to you.

“Loki…” you whisper and he surges forward.

His lips are over yours, moving and massaging as you at first merely take his kiss.

He hates it. He pulls back and tilts his head the other way, kissing you more enthusiastically, trying to draw some type of reaction from you.

It’s taking you longer to submit than you thought it would take.

He pulls back one final time and tilts his head back again before this time pressing his lips against your own slowly. He doesn’t move then but instead waits, puckering against yours as he tugs you towards him instead of shoving himself onto you.

Strong lithe arms wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your knees and against his chest. He holds you so close, so tight. It isn’t rough or demanding but needy. As if he can’t get you close enough to his own body and he can only draw you closer and closer in the hopes that it’ll fill something in him that needs filling.

You place your hands on his shoulder as you tilt your head back with his kiss.

Finally, you find the strength in your body and pucker your own lips and return this gentle kiss.

Shock flashes in his eyes as he opens them to look at you. You watch the confusion bloom in them but then shut your own and give in.

Loki’s lips part and envelop yours. It shocks you the way it sends those knots back into your stomach. In response you do the same, enveloping his lips with your own.

Loki’s hands splay out against your back and he groans as he opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue slides against the crease of your lip in question.

In answer, you open for him and welcome his searching tongue with your own. The taste of him, the scent of him, it overwhelms and you gasp as you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel his hands drift around to your front, his right sliding up along your bodice until he can cup your breast, a groan slipping through his lips as he breaks your kiss and traces wet open kisses along your jaw, neck, and shoulder.

“Loki…” you gasp without ever having given your mouth permission to speak.

He bites your neck when you say his name. You moan and he licks the spot to soothe it.

“Loki…” You whisper again.

He’s driven mad by it and before your mind can understand what is happening, he’s laying over you, hands moving wildly underneath your back, running along your sides, fumbling around until he finds where your dress is fastened and he pulls at the ties.

“Should I stop?” He asks, breathless and looking as if he would like nothing more than to keep going.

“No.”

“Mm,” he moans and kisses you again, tongue claiming your mouth as his own.

You can feel him tearing away your apron and then your dress. Too eager to pull it off you completely, he merely shoves it down so that he lays spread out along your waist.

He looks down at you, the corset you wear hiding very little of your breasts. He kisses them each in turn, the soft fleshy bits that pool up above your undergarment.

You shudder at the touch of his lips.

“Has anyone kissed you here before?” He wonders. You’re not sure if he wants an answer or not but you shake your head anyway.

As he nuzzles the soft flesh, his hands work on the corset, pulling at strings blindly until it gives way and he pulls it off of you exposing you completely.

The cool air of the night perks your nipples more than his touch already has and he takes both breasts in his hands, pushing them together as he stares to the point of embarrassment.

Before you can cover yourself, he takes one into his mouth, suckling softly to draw soft moans from your open mouth.

He sees it, your gaping mouth, and seals it with his own, his tongue nearly in a frenzy as he devours your whimpers.

Cool air hits your suddenly exposed legs. You gasp sharply as he thrusts suddenly and the hard press of his cock rubs against you, shielded only by the fabric of his pants.

“Shall I stop?” He asks again, hands running down along your torso where he takes each breast in hand, massaging them slowly before rolling each of your nipples in slow deliberate circles.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s almost torture when he removes his hands from your overheated body. But you enjoy the sight as he removes his jerkin, followed shortly by his shirt. His body is sculpted but tight, not bulky. Lithe limbs hard and eager as he reaches down beneath your skirts in search of what he desires.

He hisses when his fingers touch you, soaking wet, and you reach down to hold his wrist not to stop but simply to hold on.

The thought crosses your mind that he’s already had someone else like this tonight and it almost makes you pull away. You’re so close to stopping but he sees the thought in your eyes and leans over you, removing his hand he leans over you, pressing his chest against yours and silencing your thoughts with a slow kiss.

It burns through you, the meaning clear.

“Shall I only touch you from now on, darling?” he whispers, kissing your chin then suckling along your throat.

He’ll leave marks…

“Tell me and I will only touch you.” He promises.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep, Loki.” You chastise him, mood nearly breaking again at the memory of the endless promises Thor had made you.

“I will never break a promise to you. Tell me to refrain and I will. I meant what I said,” he kisses his way up to your ear, licking the shell of it before hot breath sends your skin prickling. “I will worship the ground you walk on if you will only let me.”

He thrusts again. You shut your eyes, gasping at the cock straining for freedom.

“H-How do I know I can trust you?” You ask, unintentionally letting him see how desperate you are to do so.

He kisses you again, genuine and hungry for it.

“Give me a week and I shall truly prove it. Trust me until then and you shall see the depths of my willingness and devotion.”

He thrusts again and maybe you’re a fool for allowing yourself to consider this when he’s got you right where he wants you, but you nod.

“Only touch me,” you order him.

He smirks. He reaches down between your legs again and with one finger slowly strokes from the bottom of your cunt to the top, the lurid sounds of your wetness poignant despite the rushing river beside you.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises.

One finger. He uses only one finger and the pressure is intense. Sensations you’ve never felt before awaken every nerve ending in your body. His thumb presses against your clit and you nearly sit up with the shock of pleasure that rushes through you.

He adds a second finger, moving slowly as he pumps them in and out.

“Shall I stop, darling?”

“Never stop,” you gasp, still gripping his wrist.

Another smirk on that handsome face, his green eyes dazzling you as he shifts back to his knees.

He licks his lips as he pulls a tie free at the front of his trousers and slowly pushes them lower and lower until he can kick free of them completely.

The length of him is breathtaking. He reaches down and strokes his cock, slowly running his thumb along the shiny pink head before he scoots closer, your skirt blocking him from view.

He rubs himself against you, slicking himself with your own arousal.

There he waits, watching you as you brace your hands on the soft grass beneath you but open your legs wider.

Your eyes meet and both of you know that there will be no coming back from this choice. Nothing either of you do will ever erase this line you’ve nearly crossed completely.

He pushes in slowly, leaning over you as he gets deeper and deeper until he’s buried completely. Chest to chest. Face to face. He grunts deep, face twitching as he settles within you.

It’s so much pressure it’s painful. The feeling of him is so foreign. You’re not sure whether it feels good or not.

“Fuck,” he whispers and tenses then shudders. You feel a wave of heat within you, followed by the sensation of slow moving drippage. “You feel…”

He seems lost for words. Do you feel terrible?

He pulls his hips back just a bit and pushes back in.

You whimper, pushing against his chest to look down where your bodies connect.

“Loki,” you fret.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “Be calm my sweet. I will ease you into this.”

Each thrust into you, his pelvis pushes against your clit and each time you moan, wishing he’d do that more. The feeling of him is filling, strange, but not unpleasant. Just different.

As your body relaxes a bit more, Loki’s thrusts grow faster. You smile unintentionally as he presses against your clit more often.

“You like that?” he wonders, stopping as he pushes all the way in and then rolls his hips against you.

Your responding moan gives him confirmation and he settles himself over you fully.

As he thrusts he presses harder against you, lingering for a moment before doing it again and again. The slap of his skin against yours grows louder and he finds a rhythm that has you both breathless and moaning.

“Loki,” you plead, feeling the build up of tension within your body.

“Come for me, darlin,” he kisses you, subduing your voice as he pumps into you.

You’re unsure for certain what he means but your body seems to listen. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he continues to thrust into you. The sweat of his body glistens in the moonlight. The soft silk of his hair tickles your skin as he arches up slightly so that he can take your breast into his mouth again as he keeps pumping into you.

You feel it…so close.

“Loki,” you whimper, wanting to reach the end of this tightrope.

He growls once and brings his hand down between your connected bodies. His thumb presses against your clit firmly. He presses and presses, rolling it in small circles with such precise pressure.

Your body explodes into endless fuzzy light. You arch into him, trembling as his thumb continues to draw pleasure from you in spasms as he keeps moving his cock in and out.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts and thrusts one final time his whole body tight in its release as that same sensation of heat fills you again.

Both of you seem to have stars in your eyes as he collapses on top of you, kissing you slowly with his eyes wide open to watch the expression of pure bliss on your face.

“I think-” Loki says, pulling back as he slowly helps to pull your dress up a bit to cover your exposed breasts. He kisses each one before he does so. “-it goes without saying that I would appreciate it if I was the only one allowed to touch you.”

You’re floating, swathed in golden light, unable to process anything he’s saying because of the pure escape from and yet complete connection to your body Loki’s cock just gave you.

You hear him chuckle. He pinches your cheek, drawing your attention back to him.

“Agreed?”

“What?” You gasp breathlessly.

“No one may touch but me. And I will touch no one but you.” He declares. “Is that understood?”

The authority in his voice draws your legs wide as that throbbing from before is renewed.

Loki’s face twitches at the movement.

“Show me again,” you plead.

“Tell me no one else will touch you,” he orders.

“No one else will touch me,” you agree.

“If you betray me,” you begin.

Loki’s eyes soften. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I promised you that I would worship the ground you walk on.”

He kisses you again, slowly, feeling every inch of your mouth against his.

“One week, my darling. I’ll prove to you my devotion.” He promises.

The sincerity in his voice has your legs spreading again and he hisses as you shift. Inside you, you feel him harden.

“Show me…” you beg.

“You’re going to be insatiable.” He realizes.

And revenge against Thor aside, you realize that being with Loki might be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to make you mine?” Loki wonders, stroking your cheek.

“How long?” You wonder, reaching up to take hold of his hand.

“I’ll show you.”

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strangersteddierthings · 10 months

Text

The Conversation

Final Part of The Interview [Part One] [Part Two] [Ao3]

Steve finishes putting on his boots, shoves a beanie on his head, and grabs his thermos of coffee before heading outside. Robin had texted when they left Pendleton so they should be arriving soon, and he wants to make sure the dogs stay clear of the driveway, and also finish some of the chores he is being lazy about. The mountain air is cold in February, and the snow is deep, but it's still warm for a winter day in Eastern Oregon.

His childhood house had been at the edge of a little forest. His current home is tucked away in the woods, trees for miles, and the nearest neighbor farther still than that. He's lived a lot of places, been able to see the whole of America almost, and in the process, he's learned that he'll always be a small-town boy. The real revelation is how at home he feels in this two-bedroom cabin sequestered away from any town at all. Sure, he's got to drive a little over half an hour to get to the nearest grocery store, but he's learned he likes that.

He's got 1600 acres of woods all to himself and the dogs. He's owned this property for almost four years, but recent events made him finally move out here. Originally, he'd bought it to make it as another flip project, but something in his gut told him to make it a vacation home / safe haven for his family instead. Robin, mainly, as a getaway from the LA life and overwhelming spotlight she'd started to face as her music career took off. He might be turning it into his permanent home and base of operations, but everyone knows they're still welcome.

Anyway, the day might be warm for winter, but the night won't be, so Steve sets his thermos on the top of the wooden railing of the porch and heads down the steps to the woodshed. The plan in the summer is to update the cabin, which includes adding central air and a good heating system, but until then, portable heaters are in the bedrooms and the wood stove gets the rest of the cabin. There's also plans to start the construction on the guest house. It's going to be a busy summer.

He replenishes the woodpile on the porch from the woodshed and debates chopping more but decides against it. That can be a tomorrow chore. Next is cleaning up the snow paths he's made previously. Doesn't want anyone falling on their ass on the way to the house, no matter how funny that'll be to watch. As usual, Pancake makes the task difficult because she wants to play with the snow shovel. Melody cries until he throws snow into the air by the shovel full for her to play in. Chowder, old man that he is, supervises from the porch, front paws hanging just off the top step.

It's rough going but he manages to complete the few chores, even with two dogs underfoot.

Steve is on the front porch, forearms holding his weight as he leans against the railing, thermos of coffee between his hands, taking in the afternoon sun and enjoying the silence when Dustin's work truck slides into the driveway. Almost literally, given the foot and a half of snow still on the ground. The driveway is long, okay. Steve's doesn't have enough time in his day to keep up with salting it all.

It'll be strange to see Eddie after all these years. He still can't believe Robin got him to come. When he'd asked how she did it, she brushed him off with an it's not important.

Speaking of Robin, she's the first person out of the truck, sliding out of the passenger seat and then cursing when she drops right into the snow. She shoots an accusatory look towards the cabin, and therefore Steve, like he placed the snow there himself, when the fault is Dustin, who has left the driver side with plenty of room between the truck and the snowbank.

Dustin gets out of the truck and Steve faintly hears him say this side, man, less snow before pushing his door closed and turning to brace himself as Pancake and Melody rush from the porch to circle like sharks, barely restraining themselves from jumping up. Chowder follows after slowly, taking his sweet time getting to Robin, his favorite human. Steve can't even be jealous about that because Robin is his favorite human, too.

The back driver side door opens, and he watches as Eddie Munson all but falls out of the truck. It's the least graceful anyone's looked getting out of the back of the truck and that's counting Chowder and his old man hips. Seeing Eddie again is- well, it's a lot of emotions all at once, but they're are all overshadowed at the moment by how Eddie looks... well, bad. His hair is longer than Steve's ever seen it, a little longer than mid-back length, but it looks like it hasn't seen a proper hair brush in a couple of days. Even from this distance Steve can see the bags under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

He pushes himself off the railing and meanders down the two steps, waiting for them to notice he's waiting. Robin trudges out of the snow berm and to the front of the truck, where Chowder is waiting patiently for his pets and kisses. Dustin has managed to get Melody to stop hopping in front of him so she can get her side scratches, and Pancake has realized there is a new, third person with a set of hands currently not petting her, and is circling Eddie, waiting for him to reach down and pet her but he just stands completely still, heading tracking her in her circles.

"She's friendly, I promise," Steve calls out, which makes Eddie's head snap up to look for the source of the voice. Well, everyone looks, but Eddie looks like he's seeing a ghost, which. Fair. Steve kind of feels the same way.

"Hello, Dingus," Robin calls as she stands from her crouched position, where she's been cuddling Chowder. As soon as she stands, he starts making his way back to the porch. "I have delivered one Edward Keaton Munson. You are not allowed to ask anything of me for, at minimum, a year."

"Steve! Why didn't you tell me you knew the Eddie Munson?" Dustin shouts.

Robin is scoffing, clearly offended. "Am I not famous enough for you Henderson!?"

"Get back to me when you've run a 24-hour Dungeons and Dragons live stream for charity!" Dustin shoots back, then has to dodge Robin's half-hearted punch aimed for his arm.

Eddie stays silent, looking more pale than when he got out of the truck. Steve's a little concerned he's going to faint.

"You been living under a rock, Dustin?" Steve asks. "My knowing him is apparently the only thing on the internet currently."

Dustin puts his whole head into the eye roll. "You spend a month backpacking with your girlfriend in the southern hemisphere and you never get to hear the end of it. I told you I'd catch up on your drama after I catch up on my DnD Live Plays."

"You also missed me winning a Grammy, you know."

"I thought Steve's thing was more important?"

"You are impossible, Henderson."

"You guys going to argue in the snow all afternoon, or do you want to come inside?" Steve says then places his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Melody and Pancake dash for the front door, where Chowder is already waiting. Dustin, Robin, and a still eerily quiet Eddie fall into line to walk the trail to the porch Steve had cleared.

Steve jumps the steps, grabs his thermos, lets the dogs in, and then holds the door for everyone else. Robin and Dustin breeze past, but Eddie slows, eyes jumping around Steve's face as they just look at each other for a moment. Eddie opens, then closes, then opens, then closes his mouth.

"Hi," Steve offers up, shifting a foot to hold the door open so he can wave his fingers at Eddie.

Eddie swallows thickly, then whispers back, "hey."

"In the house, Eddie. Don't want to let too much cold in," Steve tilts his head towards the doorway.

"Oh, right, sorry," that kick starts Eddie again and he crosses the threshold, Steve close behind.

Robin and Dustin are currently occupying the bench just inside the door, taking off their shoes. Once Dustin has his boots off, he leaves the bench, heading to the kitchen. Eddie seems lost, just standing in the entryway, so Steve takes the spot Dustin just left and proceeds to undo the laces on his boots. He gets one boot done by the time Robin stands, wandering after Dustin once she's hung up her coat, scarf, and gloves. Eddie doesn't move still, so Steve pats the empty spot beside him.

"No shoes in the cabin. Dogs track in enough snow, don't need us doing it too," Steve says, then busies himself with his other boot.

He sees Eddie sit and begin to untie his- jesus, he's not even wearing boots. Just a black pair of sneakers. Eddie unties his shoes in silence, sitting rather stiffly next to Steve.

This quiet, obedient Eddie is not what he expected.

"You want something to drink?" Steve asks, once both of them are free of their shoes.

"No, thank you."

"Alright. Have a seat, then," he gestures towards the couch. The cabin door opens up directly into the living area, which Steve has set up as 3/4th a living room and 1/4th dining room, in that a small kitchen table is along the far wall. Beyond that wall is the kitchen, where Robin and Dustin are undoubtedly helping themselves to his coffee or hot chocolate.

Eddie shuffles off to sit on the edge of the couch, as close to the armrest as he can get. Now that Steve can see him closer, he can see he's added more piercing to his face than just the eyebrow ring he wore in high school. Snake bites, a septum piercing, and a second eyebrow ring next to the original. He's sure that if Eddie's hair wasn't covering his ears, he'd see more metal there. Eddie had hung up the coat he'd been wearing but under that is a hoodie he didn't take off, so Steve can only guess if he ever got those tattoos he'd been planning in high school. His entire outfit is black, which just makes him look sickly in the cabin lighting.

Steve drops himself into the chair facing the couch. It's Melody's favorite chair to curl up in, but Steve thinks she'll forgive him for taking it. There's tension in the room, so he tries to break it. "You look like you've seen a ghost, dude."

Eddie makes a weird nose, almost a whimper or a whine, but before he can say anything, Robin rounds the wall, holding a mug of hot liquid and she says, "Oh, I'm sure he feels that he has. I didn't tell me we were coming to see you."

"Robin!" Steve is shocked.

"What? You said you wouldn't mind getting some closure, so I got him here. Does it matter how?" She takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Eddie, making a show of how comfortable she is in the space by sitting cross-legged and leaning back against the couch, in comparison to Eddie who is sitting up completely straight, barely on the couch with how close to the edge he's sitting.

"Yeah, it does! If he's not here voluntarily- if Eddie doesn't want to talk to me you can't-"

"I do," Eddie says. It grabs Steve and Robin's attention and Steve sees Eddie almost wilt under their twin stares. He clears his throat before continuing, "I mean, I would have come still, if she'd told me. I do want to talk to you. Apologize for.... for everything. So much I don't even know where to begin, or how."

"Uhh, this feels like something personal," Dustin says from where he's standing with his own mug, hovering nearby. "Should I be here for this?"

Good question. Steve doesn't care if Robin and Dustin hear what they talk about, but Eddie might. "How about we just relax a bit. How was the drive?"

Eddie scrunches his face, a half confused expression on his face.

"Fine," Robin says at the same time Dustin says, "Tense as fuck."

"Those two things don't seem like they match," Steve says.

Dustin moves to plop himself on the couch in between Eddie and Robin, then quietly curses as his drink sloshes over the edge of the mug. He starts mopping at it with the sleeve of his shirt as he says, "Robin is a liar. The tension in the truck is going to linger that's how bad it was. I'll be feeling the tension every time I get in the rig. Clients will feel the tension when I pull up to their curbs!"

"It was not that bad!" Robin swats Dustin. Successfully this time, since there's no way for him to dodge unless he wants to spill his drink again.

Steve just laughs. "Robs, light of my life, mate of my soul, knowing you and your grudges, Dustin's probably going easy on the description of the tension here."

"Well, there wouldn't be tension if I was allowed to say what I want to say."

"Can we go, like, five minutes without your negativity?"

"My negativity!? I'm not negative, I'm rational and level-headed!"

"You are not sounding very level-headed right now."

Dustin chimes in, "Steve's right. Level-headed people don't have to shout that they're level-headed."

"What say you, Eds?" Steve asks, the old nickname slipping out. He doesn't have time to be embarrassed about it though.

Eddie stands quickly and flings his hands in the air, having reached an invisible limit Steve is unaware of, pacing about the living room as he basically shouts, "Why don't you hate me!? You should hate me! I hate me! I can't- why are you just sitting there, trying to have a-a decent conversation with me? You should be screaming at me! You should be mad! Why aren't you? My fuckin' song ruined your life!"

The silence in the living room is heavy following that, all eyes on Eddie. Even the dogs, who had been in various states of sleep, lift their heads and look in Eddie's direction.

He looks mortified by the out burst, and his face turns red. "I-I'm sorry. I- I'm just, I'm sorry. I need air."

They all watch silently as Eddie jams his shoes back on and goes out the front door without tying them or grabbing his coat.

Steve sighs, deep and annoyed. At Robin and himself. He looks to Robin and she looks shocked by Eddie's outburst. She was watching the door, but turns her head to meet Steve's eye, a small frown on her face.

"Well, it's not like he's going far," Dustin says. "You going after him?"

"I don't know if I should."

Dustin scoffs. "Don't be an idiot, of course you should. We drug that guy to the middle of nowhere to talk to you. He agreed to come to the middle of nowhere even though I could have been a hit man hired by Robin to off him in the woods and he didn't even complain. Didn't even question. I don't know what happened, but I think you two need talk it over."

Steve blinks at Dustin. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. You just refuse to see it with your ageism. Go. Robin can fill me in on the beef, here in the toasty, cozy cabin, while you two chat in the cold, and freeze your asses off."

"I don't have ageism-"

"Wrong argument to be having, Steve!" Dustin interrupts. "And take another cup of coffee with you. Even if he doesn't drink it, dude doesn't have gloves either so y'know, warm the hands."

Steve does just that. Fills his other thermos with coffee, taking a chance by adding cream and sugar, before putting his boots, coat, and beanie back on. He throws Eddie's coat over his arm and tucks both thermos' against his body with that same arm so he can have a free hand to open the door.

Eddie isn't far. He's pacing back and forth in front of the truck, talking to himself.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Steve steps off the porch and makes his way to Eddie. "Hey."

The pacing stops and Eddie turns to look at Steve. They just look at each other as Steve approaches. Steve doesn't stop until he's close enough to reach out and touch before he shuffles the two thermos's to his other arm and extends the one with Eddie's coat on it out.

"Thank you," Eddie says, taking the coat and shoving himself into it quickly.

"Brought you coffee, too," Steve holds out one thermos and after a pause, Eddie takes it, too, then almost instantly brings his other hand up to cradle it, warming his fingers.

He looks up from the thermos and meets Steve's eye. "I am sorry, Steve. I'm sorry for how things ended between us, and for the song I wrote, and for-for not thinking about how people would be able to work out that you were the Steve from Hey Steve. You should hate me for that alone. I'm so sorry for everything that's happened because I didn't think of the consequences."

"I don't- I don't hate you man. Not... not anymore. Not for a long time."

"Well, you should!"

Steve frowns. He wants to argue because who is Eddie to tell him how he should feel? But that's not going to help anything. "When Robin called me. During her interview after the Grammy's and asked if she could tell the truth I never- I didn't know what she meant by the truth. But. Well, nothing she said was a lie, but it wasn't the full story."

Eddie stays silent, seemingly waiting for Steve to continue.

"Those first two years after our breakup were- I'm not going to lie, they were fucking awful. I think I received my first bit of hate mail the very same day Hey Steve released. It was harsh. All from the same person, but sent to my Facebook and my Twitter and Instagram. Guess they really wanted me to read it.

"And then, with each passing day, a new person, new message, just as awful. After three days I deleted Instagram and Twitter. Then I locked down Facebook but like- physical letters showed up at my house. I can't lie, it certainly felt like you'd ruined my life."

Eddie makes a wounded sound at that. "That's because I did! What I did was unforgivable and-"

"You don't get to decide for me if I forgive you or not!" Steve snaps. "I haven't actually said I did forgive you, did I? All I've said is I don't hate you."

That gets Eddie quiet again for a moment, then he says, "you ended up hospitalized because of me."

"Robin said I ended up hospitalized, and that's true, but it wasn't- It was more complicated that just being your, and your fans', fault. For people who were supposedly on 'your side' of our breakup, they used a lot of homophobic language. That's how my mom found out. The letters were easy enough to just get rid of because all the bad shit was on the inside, but someone sent a post card, and mom collected the mail that day. It's... I don't like talking about this."

"Then don't," Eddie is quick to say, "you don't have to explain anything to me, or make yourself relive these events. It's- you don't owe that to me."

"I think I need to. I wrote you a song, said I'd do it all again, and I meant that. I want you to understand why. Just. Just give me a minute."

Eddie nods and takes a sip of his coffee. He looks pleasantly surprised and takes bigger drink before his face falls into a frown as he stares down at the thermos and Steve has to look away. He turns and squeezes his eyes shut to continue. "Mom showed the postcard to my father, and he confronted me that evening. It was.... it didn't start off bad. He asked if it was true. That I was gay. I made a choice, then. I didn't have to; I could have lied. I could have told him I was straight and that I didn't understand what the postcard was saying, but I didn't.

"I knew how he felt about queer people, and I told him the truth anyway. I was bisexual. I thought it was a miracle that he didn't kick me out instantly. Instead, he calmly asked me if that meant I liked woman. I said it meant I liked more than just woman.

"Then he told me that didn't matter. That so long as I liked woman, I would be with a woman, and that we never had to speak of this again. And I told him no. He didn't get to decide that for me. He said that he would rather have a dead son than a faggot one. And I thought- I never- surely he was just meaning, like, metaphorically, right? Like, he'd disown me, kick me out or something so I scoffed and said- God, I was so stupid. I knew it wasn't safe, but I was so angry at him, I shouted 'dead or alive, I'm your faggot son so deal with it.' And he- he said 'dead it is' and he attacked me."

He hears Eddie suck in a breath, hears the crunch of snow in what could only be Eddie taking a step towards him but stopping after just one step. Steve doesn't know if he wants Eddie to close the distance and give him the hug he knows Eddie wants to do. Steve doesn't know if he'd welcome the embrace or not. He sucks in his own shaky breath, and continues, "He almost beat me to death that night. The only reason he didn't was because mom dialed 911," Steve turns around, looks at Eddie and sees the tears falling down his own face reflected on Eddie. "As far as I know, dad's still serving time for his attempted murder, so like, at least I don't have to worry about him. And mom... I don't even know what to think of that.

"She called 911, didn't want to see me die, I guess, but also couldn't have a gay son. She sold the house, and everything in it, while I was still in the hospital, and just... disappeared. Robin's family took me in. She told that story during the interview, you knoe, but I wasn't even at the house when that guy with the gun showed up. I was meeting with a lawyer.

"She-Mom was- I don't know what she was trying to do but she gave me the family business. The whole company! It felt like she was trying to buy my forgiveness, except she didn't ask for it and still hasn't contacted me. It's like... she felt guilty about what happened but hated me at the same time. Felt she needed to do something to alleviate her guilt? Or maybe she just wanted to cut herself free of the whole Harrington name; free herself from me and my father. I don't think I'll ever get closure for that one."

Steve quits talking, needs to take another moment. He'd already rambled on about more than he meant to but talking to Eddie had always done that to him. Afterall, before they dated, they'd been friends. He sips at his coffee, not knowing what else to say.

"Jesus, Stevie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know- It's no excuse but I'm just so sorry."

He doesn't think Eddie knows he called him Stevie, but it's nice to hear. "So, see, it wasn't your fault. Your song set things into motion, for sure, so it's nice to hear an apology, but like, if anyone is the bad guy in this situation, it's Richard Harrington."

"But Robin said she just had to help you move to here. That you still get hate mail, and doxxed. That's on me. I saw your list of addresses, Steve! You've had to move, like, eight times a year!"

Steve can't help the cackle that springs from him. He surprises himself with the laugh, and Eddie, too, if his wide eyes and eyebrows hidden behind his bangs are any indication. "I- yeah, I move a lot. And yes, this most recent move was because of a brick with Hey Steve scratched into it broke my living room window, but like, I've only had to move because of harassment like, four times, if I'm counting the whole mom-selling-the-house thing."

"What?"

Steve holds up a finger, adding a new one as he counts them out. "Mom sold house. Scary gun guy at Robin's. The year anniversary of your first album's release. I was still in Hawkins, figuring out what to do with all the money I'd, uhh, inherited I guess, so I was easy to find. And the most recent one. Not sure what inspired it this time. Usually, the hate mail resurges when you go on tour, but it's less and less every time. Anyway, none of those other moves are because of crazy fans."

Eddie blinks at him, a picture of confusion. "But I found a YouTube video and that guy- he showed all your old addresses. He said- I thought..."

"Well, there are a lot of addresses. But not because of your fans. I move for my job. Do you... did you even read the truck?" Steve gestures to Dustin's truck and Eddie steps around to see the printed H&H Project Flip and below that is their website.

Eddie looks back to Steve like that answers nothing. Which, fair, but it would answer a lot of questions if Eddie had looked up the website. "After that surge of anniversary hate, I knew I needed to get out of Hawkins. Robin was graduated, then, and headed to college. I decided I wanted to see more than just Hawkins. I followed Robin to college in Chicago, and uh, bought a house. A real fixer upper but that was fine. I had plenty of money to throw into it. On a whim I thought, what if I try to fix it. I had a lot of free time and if it ended up badly, I could afford to pay a professional to fix whatever I broke. I found that I loved doing that."

He's still just being looked at like he's not making sense.

Steve rolls his eyes, "I flip houses, dude. Me and Dustin. Harrington and Henderson Project Flip. I was in Chicago for three years, lots of addresses for that city. But then Robin pointed out there were a lot of states. That I should see all 50 of 'em by renovating a house in each. She'd moved in with her then-girlfriend by this time, so she said I should go. See the States at the least. So, I did. I find it easier to just live in the house I'm renovating, so I'm not paying mortgage and then rent somewhere else in the same city."

Eddie looks like he's had a rug pulled out from under him and he lets out a laugh that's a little hysterical.

"And moving so much has allowed me to meet so many amazing people, y'know? I got friends in all the states. So, like, yeah, you did ruin my life, but like, just my life from 18 to 20. So, yeah, I'd do it all again. Did you think I've been living in perpetual misery for the last ten years?"

"Robin certainly made it easy to assume that, so yeah!"

"I think she did that on purpose. To hurt you back."

"I deserve it," Eddie says. "I didn't even try to check in on you. Well, once, but when I couldn't find you on any socials I just. Gave up."

Steve shrugs. "I didn't reach out either. And if you'll remember, I broke up with you. Screamed in your face that we were over and went home."

"I don't know when, or even if, Corroded Coffin will tour again, but I swear to you, we'll never play or release Hey Steve again. And I'll release a statement, or go on camera, or something, and address this. I can't make it right, but I can make a change starting now, to do better and be better," Eddie says this while gripping his thermos to death.

"I believe you, and I forgive you."

Eddie nods grimly, then looks from Steve to the cabin, and back to Steve. "Do you think Robin will ever forgive me?"

"I don't know. You hurt her pretty badly, too. We were all best friends in school and when we broke up, you cut off Robin, too. And then, when she started to gain her own fame- I think when she first moved to LA, she thought you'd try to reach out. But you never did."

A silence falls over them, and Steve refuses to break it. He's done enough talking. They drink their coffees 'til they're empty before Eddie speaks.

"Where does this leave us?"

Steve thinks about it before answering. "You were my best friend before you were my boyfriend. You'd been in my life longer than you've been out of it. We don't have to be anything. We can have our closure and go our separate ways, if you'd prefer. But, I think I'd like another chance at being your friend."

"I can do friend," Eddie says slowly, like he's picking his words carefully. "I can. But, full transparency, I think I still love you."

It hurts to hear, after all the pain and the time, and it's a bittersweet kind of hurt. "I'll always love you, Eds. I meant it, you know, every word of the song. But I don't know if we can, or should, try again. We were so good until we weren't."

Tears spring from Eddie's eyes when Steve says he loves him, and they don't stop falling even as he's nodding along with everything Steve says. "No, I know. I know. I just, I needed you to know. Friend is, it's so fucking great. More than I ever expected, and certainly more than I dared hope."

"Come on. Let's go inside where it's warm and chat with Dustin and Robin like civilized people. I need a break from the heavy talk."

"Yeah. Me too. Thank you, Steve. For the chance."

Steve shrugs and shoots him a crooked grin. "Yeah, well, ruin this a second time and Robin will rip you to shreds on live TV, probably."

There's more to talk about. More hurts to heal and things to discuss, Steve knows. And maybe after all the talking, they'll learn they've changed too much to even be friends. But that'll be okay, because if that's how it goes, it'll be because they talked it out instead of screaming at each other in a living room.

If they've changed too much, this time, it'll end gently.

It doesn't stop Steve from letting a little bit of hope in. That this won't end, that they can find a way to be in each other's lives again.

As friends, or more.

#steddie #my fic #the interview #prepare yourself for the whiplash of a full tonal shift in the story as we switch to steves POV #tw: homophobia #tw: assault #Steve discusses his assault/subsequent hospitalization. I tried to not go into too much detail but proceed with caution if thats a trigger #there is also the use of the word faggot as a slur #also! there is a point where steve casually says robin has a girlfriend #this is NOT an accidental outing. Robin is an out and proud lesbian singer/song writer/grammy winner #also.... maybe there will be an epilogue? I am debating.#if you wanna be informed on the epilogue #subscribe to the fic on ao3 cause it'll alert you if i add another chapter

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sardonic-the-writer · 5 months

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none

↳ notes: forgot how good this movie series was. going to be thinking about it quite a bit these few coming days. especially egon! favorite character by far, with winston in next place

↳ song: main title theme (ghostbusters)—elmer bernstein

masterlist | commisions | carrd

• When a flyer for a job downtown mysteriously appeared in your mailbox slot, your first thought was to throw it away

• It looked scrappy. Par on course with the rest of the junk mail companies normally delt out to catch your eye

• Still. Three days later you were standing outside a mildly reevaluated looking firehouse with the paper clutched loosely in your hand, and your best clothes on

• As you’d walked towards the doors, a man came up from behind you, uttering an apology as he nearly bumped into you

• “Hey,” He had paused, allowing you to catch a glance of his tan suit and kinky black hair. “You here for an interview, too?” He asked, walking through the large off-green door as you held it open for him

• “Sure am.”

• “Well, may the best one win. Or get the job, I suppose.” He chuckled with a lopsided grin

• "I dont think they’ll mind hiring the both of us." You eventually responded, looking up at the way the ceiling sagged with old age

• Following your line of sight, the man beside you nodded deeply, and the both of you made your way up to a reception desk with a very annoyed looking lady behind it

• That was the day both you, and who you later learned to be Winston, got the job as the newest pair of Ghostbusters

• “Meet back here tomorrow at noon.” The snappy lady with glasses had said monotonly as she thrust a set of papers at you. You were still looking in the direction that two yelping men in jumpsuits had just gone holding a machine, that it took you a second to notice

• “With the way this job is looking? No way I’m missing tomorrow.”

• Meeting your employers slash coworkers for the first time— technically second if you counted the way two of them crashed your interview mid hiring —was certainly an experience

• Only one had been prepared for both you and Winston’s first days with a handshake and slightly unbuttoned lab coat

• He had introduced himself as doctor Egon Spengler, and shook your hand with a certain rigidness to it. Still, you caught him looking at the both of you with curiosity, so you tossed him an easy upward twitch of you lips. He seemed to relax a little after that

• The other two, however, had proved to be more difficult upon meeting

• Ray Stanz and Peter Venkman were certainly a pair, with the latter sure to be the cause of later headaches, but seemed friendly anyways—if the way they slapped you on the back said anything

• “Welcome to the nerd squad.” Peter has smiled teasingly at you, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing you close as if he was about to tell you a secret. “Stick with me, and you’ll be kicking it with the cool kids!”

• “Is he always like this?” You asked while pushing him away

• “Regrettably.” Egon responded in a flat tone as he moved back to statistics on a chart. “Try being roommates with him in college for six years.”

• “No thanks. I think I’d rather get possessed by one of those ghosts you guys hunt.”

• “Hey, still here!”

• You fell right into place with them pretty quickly after that. Something about getting slimed by a poltergeist in Central Park really brings a group of people together. Especially if they happen to get a really good meal of Thai right after

• In the days weeks and months following your hiring, you get to learn a lot about the little team you’d been squished into

• Winston was probably the first one you befriended. Maybe because the both of you had showed up around the same time, but you found him one of the easiest to just sit down and talk to after a mission without being interrupted every two sentences. The other guys were great, but he seemed to appreciate a little peace and quiet more than what you got in the headquarters

• “Seriously— do we have to call it the headquarters?” You interrupted Peter in the middle of his rant. Sipping on a cup of coffee, you took a moment before speaking more. It really was too early for this. “I mean, come on. It makes us sound like bizzaro superhero’s. More than we already do, anyway.”

• “Personally I wouldn’t mind playing a little Bruce Wayne every now and then.” Peter grinned back suggestively. From beside you, Ego let out his equivalent of an annoyed sigh as he tinkered with stray machinery. Apparently someone else felt it was too early for Peters antics, too

• “Gag me with a spoon.” You deadpanned while swirling your mug around moodily

• “Fine fine. We can call it home base. Happy, sunshine?”

• You grumbled at his sickeningly sweet tone before delving back into your coffee, missing the way Ray and Winston shared slight smiles at the exchange

• “Now that you four are done, mind helping me with our actual jobs?”

• “Oops. Yeah. Sorry Egon.”

• “Sigh.”

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2cutie · 4 months

Text

Midnight Challenge

Raiden x Female virgin!Reader

summary: 18 + content! Raiden requests you to join him to dinner after relinquishing in the victory of battle together. You both delved into each other's flirtations and push to see just how far the other is willing to go...

a/n: elder god Raiden(no specific game/media). light master/sub. i like my older men & Raiden supplies. def self indulgent huehuehue

You watched him with a soft expression as he took off his hat and breathed in the calm air. You both had teleported back to the Shaolin temple after completing a mission together, the tranquil and gentle atmosphere much more serene than the energy of the battle. The silence was a welcome contrast and he sighed, content.

Raiden turned to look at you when he felt the stare, his electric eyes shimmering gently. His expression was of calmness and peace, basking in the simplicity of the moment. You smiled gently when your gaze met. The sense of completion washed over him, the battle of the outside world forgotten.

" That was quite the battle. You faired pretty well, old man," you joked in kind, scanning him quickly for any prevalent injuries. You were pleased to find none.

"Yes, I've managed to hold my own." He chuckled softly. "I must commend you for your prowess in battle as well. You fought with remarkable skill and determination."

The praise caused your chest to flutter with pride, and you bowed in generosity. "Thank you, Lord Raiden."

"Enough with formalities. We've fought together on many occasions now, and I consider you a friend. I believe we've earned the right to address each other more casually." Raiden placed a warn hand on your shoulder to righten you.

"As you insist. The feeling runs mutual." You straightened to a stance again, sighing happily. "I feel every time I have the fate to fight alongside of you, it is never less than thrilling. The joy of accompanying a god to battle, I suppose. Thank you for being my unwilling inspiration to improve."

He offered a rare genuine smile. "You are an excellent warrior in your own right. I am happy to serve as your ally."

Your eyes twinkled in delight as a soft blush decorated your cheeks. You fought the urge to bow again, but instead took the initiative to walk beside of him through the temple, seemingly with out a destination. Your footfall echoed softly in the quiet surroundings, paired with the sound of distant monks training.

"There is something refreshing about this place," the god remarked after a break, taking in the aura. "It's still and peaceful, almost as if time has stopped moving." He paused, considering his next words. "Do you ever find the simplicity of this place to be… dull?"

You tilted your head, considering his words. You gazed to the scenery, watching as some leaves blew gently across the air, the grass shifting gracefully. "I suppose… I do. It can be rejuvenating when I need it to be., but perhaps I'm too used to the way of training so now I like things to be a bit more unexpected" Your stare found him again. "Pretty to look at, maybe not to spend continuous time in. Do you find it to be dull?"

Raiden's expression seemed to grow contemplative. "Alike you, it depends. Sometimes I find the tranquility of the temple to be a much needed respite, a chance to reflect and decompress. But other times, I feel that this place can be too peaceful, that I still crave the challenge of battle outside the walls of this place." He nodded toward some of the monk's practicing in the courtyard. "I admire the tenacity and commitment of the monks to the pursuit of peaceful meditation, but battle and conflict remain a central part of my life."

You hummed. "It seems we are not so different. It's a bit amusing to think about."

"I consider you a kindred spirit of sorts."

You willed your blush to go away as he spoke, hoping it wasn't as obvious as it had felt. If he noticed, he did not saying anything. "Knowing you on a personal level, it does seems our souls align in some way." Your voice trickled off for a moment, debating your wording. "I believe you know some of my past, but that isn't something I can say for many people. Our companionship is of high virtue to me."

"I know some of your past, but I would not dare to claim to know all of it. From what I do know, I see someone who's strong and resilient, someone with a good head on her shoulders. Your words and demeanor speak volumes of the type of person you are."

A sigh released from your lips, soaking in the warmth of his words. Perhaps, and you would never admit it, you stumbled just a bit. "I don't know if I would believe that years ago. Thank you. Sincerely."

Raiden noticed a vulnerability in you that you rarely showed. His electric eyes twinkled in the sunlight, pleased to know you trusted him enough to reveal it. "It is my pleasure, truly. I believe that you are the type of person who deserves to hear words of encouragement and appreciation."

He was thrumming strings along in your chest so easily, and he did't even know it. Your body buzzed, as if you had his power coursing through you instead.

You continued walking beside him, wanting to speak more but unsure of what. As you passed a fountain, you spoke. "I should probably shower some of the battle off me. Thank you for another successful battle, and putting up with my company afterwards."

"It was my pleasure to fight alongside of you as well." The god slowed to a stop, nearing the courtyard. He paused for a moment, gazing into your eyes with a certain look you couldn't quite place. "If you will indulge me, may I ask if you have any plans tonight? Perhaps you could join me for dinner?"

"Oh!" You were truly a master of words. "I don't have plans, actually. None. None at all!" Oh gods, just stop talking. "I'd love to join you."

"Wonderful." His expression lit with genuine delight, amusement hidden just below. "I expect you are eager to rid yourself of the battle grime, as well as to get some well earned downtime. I will await your return. Until then, please rest and recuperate."

"Until then," you confirmed. You waved to him as you departed to your bedroom, under the promise of later. As you rounded the corner, you couldn't help but let out a delighted giggle. Your heart pulsed, shy yet thrilled, and continued to your room.

Your well-anticipated shower proved to be more than needed as the warm water laxed your sore muscles. You did small chores around your room to distract your racing mind.

You weren't expecting much for how the dinner may go, uncertain if Raiden even felt any emotion that you did. But even if it was just to be platonic, you were delighted to have the opportunity.

The anticipation made the time go slow, but you were ecstatic when the time came to get ready. You decided not to go over the top to look nice, deciding on a more naturalistic approach. While your heart could fool itself, your mind wasn't set to believe that it was truly a date.

When finished, you returned down the familiar path to the fountain. Unsurprisingly, Raiden was there, his back to you. He turned when you heard you approach.

"Fancy seeing a thunder god here," you teased, stopping in front of him.

"How quickly the tide changes. I recall just a few hours ago, I was the one who asked you to dinner." His eyes glinted in humour as he observed you. You exuded a certain charm and allure that was almost captivating. "You certainly look stunning in this attire."

That caught you a bit off-guard. "Ah, well, thank you. It really isn't anything divine." But you appreciated the sincerity. "You look just as wonderful, as always."

He hadn't changed from his normal clothes unsurprisingly, but was without his hat. His headcap had remained on, and you were a bit disappointed at that.

Raiden smiled at the compliment. "You're too kind. Would you mind following me to the dining hall? I've prepared dinner for us tonight, and it would be a pleasure to share it with you."

"Of course. After you." You stood tall and followed after him, intrigued. As far as you knew, he didn't know your taste palette and that was making you a bit nervous.

Raiden led the way to the dining hall below the temple so you two could dine alone, the heavenly scent of food wafting in the air as you got close. Perhaps you were afraid for nothing. He opened the door for you, and followed inside. He directed you to a decorated table that was laid out with a multidude of delicious dishes, ranging from elegant desserts to spicy foods, and even meat dishes.

You were taken back by just how extravagant it all was, mouth watering from just looking at the savory foods. "Somehow, I had a feeling you wouldn't disappoint, Raiden." You chuckled as you sat across from him, eager as ever. He didn't need to know that wasn't all the truth, and his proud smile made you feel better about your white lie.

The dinner consisted of several savory courses, from a delectable soup to tender and flavorful appetizers, all in impeccable quality. The conversation was friendly and light, compensated around the time you savored the sweet spices. It was little conversation where it was more so talking about nothing, yet it was enticing. But more so, you were thrilled to discover that his ability to be a chef rivaled that of his to battle.

"I fear that no food is ever going to compare to this again."

Raiden smiled at the admiration and leaned back in his seat, pleased. "I'm glad to hear. I am always eager to experiment with new flavours."

"God of lightning, god of cooking on the side. It's almost unearthly how good it all is." Wait… The question posed in your head. You had to ask. "Wait - is it actually unearthly? Do you seriously use your lightning to cook?"

An amused huff of air puffed from his nose, seeming quite amused at how you seemed to believe your hypothesis before even his answer. "I did not, though that is an interesting thought. I was still once very much mortal and have learned to cook the same way any other mortal does."

You hummed, impressed. "I'm now enamored for your cooking. Please, if you ever feel like cooking, be sure to invite me again. I don't know if I'll be able to enjoy normal food again after this," you jested, taking another bite of food in proof. The flavour erupted over your tongue instantly.

"The offer goes both ways, you know," Raiden replied, his tone hinting and cheerful. "I would love to share my culinary with you whenever you want to join me for dinner. I would be interested in tasting your creations as well."

You met his eyes again, a twinge of hope tickling inside you. "I can't calim I'm the best cook, but I'm not so bad that I would kill you." You laughed and finished off the last bite of your food.

"I suppose I can overlook the occasional meal that fails to kill me." He softly laughed with you, a deep and uncommon thing. He continued to gaze over you as you finished the meal. He noticed that the shared gazes would linger a little bit too long. He did nothing to regulate it.

You enjoyed the mutual silence for a moment, but you were getting a bit too curious for your own good as you eyed his headwear. Your expression clearly showed your thought process, face scrunched as you considered asking.

"You seem to be debating on something." He watched closely, awaiting with a curious yet eager expression. "Do you wish to know something?"

"It's dumb." You answered slowly, but eventually laughed. "It's so dumb…. Buut, I was just curious what you keep hidden underneath that headcap, if you'll entertain me. I just thought about how long I've known you and have yet to see what you're hiding." You hoped that didn't sound rude. "Of course, it's completely fine if not. I didn't mean to sound forthright."

Raiden couldn't help but smile, eyes filled with amusement. It was an unexpected yet a charming enough request that his smiled enough for his teeth to show. You added that to a list of accomplishments. "You've piqued my curiosity. I'm always up for a bit of fun." You leaned forward in interest. "Perhaps I will entertain your request, perhaps not. You will have to wait and see."

Your mouth fell open. He did not. "You-" You barked a laugh in shock, but it soon bubbled into guffawing. You dipped your head back, truly amused. "You suck! So bad! I never expected you to be such a tease."

He laughed along with you, his amusement growing at the sight of your mirth. "What, a god isn't allowed to tease?" He voice was playful.

"Now I didn't say that; I just wasn't expecting it. You're always so serious." You leaned back into the chair, crossing your arms over your chests and gave him a once-over. "I'm starting to like discovering these hidden sides of you. You're actually quite entertaining."

Who knew, the god of thunder had a playful side. How unseen it must be.

"I find that there is a time and place for everything. I am not opposed to letting my guard down and having some casual fun from time to time."

"It's honestly fun to see. I consider you a good friend, so it's delightful to know you aren't always so stoic."

Raiden felt something move in his chest. What, he wasn't entirely sure but chose not to dwell on it. "The same goes for me. It is comforting to know that you enjoy my company once you got past my intimidating exterior."

"I figured it came with being a protector of Earthrealm. Can't have the enemies knowing you're a divine cook," you joked and you saw his lips quirk. "Though, it's funny; your brother is such a stark contrast to you."

His eyebrow quirked at the mention. "Fujin and I are similar in some ways, yet so much more different in others. The contrast is certainly engaging, to say the least."

"He says much of the same thing." You chuckled. "I talk to him quite often, when the time permits. He shares stories about the two of you when you were younger, it's endearing how he speaks of it. Also sickening. Though, he did tell me you were one to pull his hair just to spite him when you fought."

"I see he likes revealing some of our more childish habits. I assume he failed to mention any of his," Raiden wore a high-spiried smile, chortling at the memory. "But yes, I've got my tricks."

"Dully noted. Would that be the reason for your headcap? To stop Fujin from getting revenge?" You were being instegative now, knowing that is was simply meant to keep his hair from his face.

It was a playful dig, one Raiden found himself liking. There was an air of teasing between you both, and he was very much enjoying it. "Perhaps I simply wanted to add some flair to my usual attire. I do believe it provides a certain air of authority, if I do say so myself."

You hummed, leaning on the table to get a good luck at it, as if you hadn't seen it so many times before. "You're right. I do believe you are the only one I've seen wearing it."

Passive aggressiveness suited you nicely even if he did catch onto it. "I think it does add a nice bit of distinction, does it not?"

You snorted. "Distinction is certainly one way to describe it. It looks a bit odd in a normal setting, I must admit. However, you do make it look good so at least you can get away with it."

"I'll take that as a compliment then."

The atmosphere drifted back to light conversation as time filtered between the both of you. Dusk turned to nightfall swiftly, the room slowly casting shadows as the late hours creeped in. You were completely enraptured by him the entire night, captivated by the moment. His eyes mesmerized, especially as they seemed even more alight when he spoke. You were too entranced to notice the time filtering by.

But when his eyes flicked to the windows, yours followed. It was completely pitch. "Oh, wow, It's late." You felt panic rise in your chest, trying to decide what hour exactly it was. "I'm so sorry for holding you up. I didn't realize just how late it's gotten."

"No need to apologize," he responded in a gentle tone. ""I myself didn't realize much time passed as well. What's more, I was enjoying our conversation, so I don't mind one bit."

"That's relieving, at least." You rose from your chair. "I enjoyed this as well. You have a bit of a… thrilling aura to you. You are very intriquing."

"Thrilling aura?" He repeated, amusement clear by the choice of words. He stood as well and gathered the dishes.

"Yes, like…. How should I say it." You hummed in thought and helped collect the plates as well, following and returning them to the sink. "I guess because of your status as an elder god, that spending time with someone so high above me feels like it could be 'forbidden'. I know it's not, but I just find it so out of the ordinary to share you downtime. I know I can be boring."

When the plates were placed where they needed to be, you both wandered back to the entrance. "We may be words away in terms of divinity," he began, "However it it is a privilege and pleasure to have spent the night with you. As for being boring, I don't believe that to be the case. You have shared many interesting stories with me, and I have been enthralled by each one of them."

Your cheeks flushed as he spoke, pulse a bit quicker. You shyly tucked some hair behind your ear. "I can say the same… even despite your vendetta to keep hiding what's under your headcap," you quipped. "I suppose I can let that little detail go."

Your curiosity about his appearance was cute. But for now, he liked the air of mystery to it, perhaps if just to ease you more. "Curiosity will only encourage you to continue wondering, will it not?"

You rolled your eyes when you realized he meant to still keep it a secret, but you smiled anyways. Despite the crushing interest, you felt it rather charming that he would play a bit. "Yes, yes, it will. And I'll remained bothered about it until the day." You flicked your eyes back to him, a small glaze of adoration in them. "You have many layers of mystery to you, Raiden. I find great interest in trying to solve them, and that is just one of the many."

"And what if I told you that beneath this was nothing but disappointment?"

You tilted your head. "What it is, premature balding? Or no wait - fully bald. No, no, it couldn't possibly be the secrets of the universe, right?"

Raiden hummed, shaking his head. Each of your possibilities were more ridiculous and humorous than the last. "Perhaps. Any of those could be correct. I could be bald, and not want to bring attention to it so I hide it." He spoke in a fake-slighted tone.

"Somehow, I think you would be able to pull it off. But, perhaps I'm so used to seeing the monks here. Most of them are bald."

"Perhaps indeed. Being on this planet for much of a longer time than you has introduced me to many styles. I realize that you may be correct of me pulling off such an appearance."

"Wha-" You barked out laughing at such a absurd sentence. "That was such an overdramatic and humble way of saying you agree with me! What was that?" You had to double over and grab your stomach, the words replaying in your head. It took a moment, but when you finally were able to straighten yourself, the smirk was still evident. "Perhaps I'm too delirious because it's so late, but that may have been the most hilarious thing I've heard you say."

You reactions to his foolish answer that was more playful than serious was indulging, far beyond amusing. "The night may leave your judgement compromised. But I can't help feel that it has also been truly refreshing, and I believe that the late hour is not the cause of this."

"It has been quite the wonder. I am sad that it is coming to a closure, but if I stay any longer, I fear you'll make me laugh too hard and it'll wake up Kung Lao…. He is truly someone you do not want to anger when he is sleeping."

"We wouldn't want that." He said that as if he had any idea of how hard you learned that lesson. Lucky him. "Your attempts at laughter would prove to be ill-advised."

Your eyes narrowed at him as you walked out of the dining hall, him back by your side. "Whose fault would that be then? Don't make me laugh and it won't happen." You elbowed his side gently.

"I shall endeavor not to elicit any jokes. And if I fail to do so, I shall endure Kung Lao's wrath willingly instead of laughing at you, of course." He leaned in just a bit, barely noticeable. But you caught it.

"What a generous man you are." You leaned against him as well, copying his mannerisms.

Raiden was delighted in the response to his gesture. Every moment was becoming an exchange of teasing between you two, and he found himself enjoying the rapport ever so much. The air seemed to flow easy at each exchange of witty banter.

You found yourself unable to stop smiling as you continued the way to your bedrooms. Your body again buzzed, chest alight. This was a progressive night between you both, even if it was just a friendly thing. "It's so late - dare I even say early at this point - and yet I have absolutely no interest in sleeping. I feel so energized."

"I'm quite awake myself." His body felt invigorated by your presence, admittedly.

"I blame you. I'm typically asleep at this time, so can only assume you have caused this."

"Despite that, I do find it to be quite fulfilling to have you in my company for such a late evening."

You tried to hide your laugh as you looked the other way, over your shoulder. It didn't work. "Careful with your wording there, Raiden. You're starting to sound a bit sultry."

"And is a bit of sultriness bad, if I may ask?" He watched you from the corner of his eye, feigning innocence.

"No, no, I quite welcome it. Just hoping you don't dish what you can't serve." Raiden didn't miss the look of flirtation in your eyes. Nor how you stepped just a bit closer. The night was bringing forth new things and you were starting to see a side you didn't expect from him, and it was making you swell with confidence.

Likewise, Raiden leaned back to you. Your elbows brushed against one another. The clear flirtation was quite obvious, and you both were receptive to it. "I believe I'm quite able to dish it as well as take it. Shall I raise it up a level to make up for that?"

"Will I be wooed by the Thunder God himself? I'm interested of what the next level entails. Please, entice me. I'm curious."

Your bedroom was just up ahead, leaving limited time to explore this bit of flirtation. You didn't want it to end, feared that the moment may be abolished come morning.

Yet he bit at the offer and gave a suggestive reply. "Why should I be the one to entice you? That wouldn't be entirely fair, would it? Perhaps you ought to tempt me in your own way, and then I shall do the same. For balance sake."

His sentence caught you a bit off-guard, but it was a welcome allure. "Smooth, Raiden. Very smooth." Your eyes traced over him, slowly drifting up his body, absorbing all details, and ensuring he could feel wherever your flaming stare landed. Ever so slowly, you up past his broad shoulders before settling to land on his lips, holding the gaze.

You looked away.

You had made the first move into the teasing challenge.

"Isn't there some kind of old saying to not temp a god? And here you are daring me. Regardless, I think I'd do a few sins for you."

His body buzzed. To think his flirtation had set a precedent for how you actually planned to challenge him was enticing. "That would be correct. Though, it would take much more than that to tempt a god such as myself. If anything, it is quite generous to allow you to even attempt to entice me."

"Allow me? Frankly, it sounds like you are wanting me to, since you'd be permitting it." You were putting up a false sense of bravado. Inside, your heart hammered against your chest and threatened to burst from how bad your nerves crept. But this was enthralling, and you were in way too deep. You felt your pulse skip several beats as you saw your door, wondering what exactly this was about to become.

"I suppose you may have me there. The question yet remains whether I would like you to actually tempt me, or if this is merely a game that I'm allowing you to play."

Of course he wouldn't specify which. That was for you to decide.. or to play it out and see. "I don't know if I'd consider myself much of a temptress, though your challenge seems inveigling."

"We shall have to see how the night turns out. Perhaps you have hidden talents that you are waiting to unveil? If so, I would be quite surprised if you are truly not the temptress you so believe you aren't."

He apparently had more faith in you than you did yourself. How curious.

You stopped in front of your room, considered your next plan to action. Opening the door, you turned around to face him. "I hope I can live up to at least some of those beliefs you hold in me. Half of the battle will be finding what you even crave and playing into them." Your eyes locked with his chest again, heat building in you as you traced along the details of his broad muscles. You wonder how they would feel... You pushed the tantalizing thought away for now. You gave a crooked smile, backing into the room, teasingly, cajoling. "I'd be honored to accept the challenge, Lord Raiden… Or would you perhaps prefer 'master' in this setting?" You titled your head. "If you also wish to proceed with this game... lock the door."

Raiden remained in cool disposition as he considered your proposal. He decided he was excited with the turn of events.

The challenge was set now, and the night would either be a fun game or something completely exhilarating.

"It seems that this night will be a time for experimentation between the two of us." He followed you inside, locking the door behind him as instructed. Your core flared in response.

You studied his every movement as he came into your room, watching to see what he did, how he responded. In reality, you had never attempted to seduce before and this was more nerve-wracking than you wanted to admit. You were frightened that you may embarrass yourself, or worse - shun him away.

You were walking an incredibly thin line, but the anixety of the situation churned different at the thought of what may also become, even if only for a night. "Expiermentation often is how people find their delights in life. Hobbies, crafts… Kinks, even."

"I believe we could benefit from a lot of it then. While life is a constant cycle of learning, changing, it is good to explore what we crave."

"And what exactly is it that you crave… Master?" You advanced to him slowly. You had to raise your head up as you got closer, his impressive height looming over you. You were still playing into the 'master', trying to decipher any body language to see if it any any affect.

He daringly leaned in. "If you're going to call me 'Master', you must truly be venturesome to do anything at my orders. Are you willing to prove just how submissive you can truly be?"

"Is that what you desire? My submissiveness?" You whispered the words to him since he was so close, your expression going half-lidded. You gracefully slid yourself down to kneel on your knees, and he watched you the entire way down. In this position, you had to crane your neck further. "If you are curious about that, I can prove to be very dutiful."

Raiden's lips quirked at your response. Your will to submit yourself made his mind turn to all kinds of possibilities. "How voluntary… May I give you an order then?"

You only nodded, remaining in perfect posture as you awaited.

He looked over you in almost a predatory light. But it didn't scare you. Instead, it turned you on. "I find you hair quite enticing." He looked away from your eyes to look to your hair. "I would like for you to let me have free reign over it."

"My hair is yours, master."

A simple enough order. You could do that.

The approval sparked an instant trigger within the god. The fact that you seemed so willing to do whatever he pleased to you was an irresistible thing to fathom. "Good girl."

The praise burned inside you, almost insatiably hot. He strode forward, a hand gliding into your hair. You closed your eyes and gave him the access to do as he pleased, patient and still for him.

His fingers caressed your smooth hair, running his thumb over the texture. It was clear he had you completely enraptured, and the dominant position and control over you stirred deviously inside of him. As he stroked your hair, he spoke: "Have you ever allowed a man to touch you this way before?"

Your eyes opened to only flick away, embarrassed. A light blush painted your face. "No," you admitted.

The shy and embarrassed behavior were exciting to elicit from you. It only made him want to tease your further as his other hand moved to massage your neck. "Then, I feel truly honored that I am the first to be able to touch you in such a way. Do you know what this moment makes you to me?"

Your eyes met his, curious. You shook your head, not daring to speak.

A low chuckle vibrated through his throat. It felt like it reverbrated through you. "This moment makes you vulnerable. And you allowed me to make you so. Do you know how much that says you trust me on some level, that you want to submit to me in such a state?"

You swallowed thickly. You nodded this time.

Raiden's lips curled up in an almost sinister way. To see the desire and lust begin build in you set his mind alight. It was pleasurable, for how easy it was to move you hair in any way he desired. "Good girl. I think you are understanding the game quite well. Now, do you wish for me to stop? Or will you allow me to continue playing with your hair?"

"Continue, please."

"Good answer. Do you know what this makes me want to do?" Another shake of your head. "This game is making me want to lean down and kiss your neck. Is that something you would allow to happen? Would you be able to keep yourself calm while I do this? Or are you already on the verge of breaking down?"

His words were sinful for how much of a tease they were. They made you shudder. "I can remain calm for you."

"Then I shall proceed." He wasted no time to lean down and press firm kisses to your jaw, a slow advancement downward to your neck. His lips were soft, the kisses kind yet lingering and it allowed you to keep composure to start. He felt your pulse and body's reactions under his lips to read your unspoken emotions.

You barely resisted the urge to shiver. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sensation, yet you remained still and pliant for him as you savored the feeling into memory,

Raiden's kisses deepened to being seductive, tongue swirling over your heated pulse points with his fingers twirling in your hair the entire duration. "Have you ever been kissed on your neck like this before? Is this something you are accustomed to?"

"No… This will be my first."

The god hummed in the nook of your shoulder, pleased at the answer. He pressed his body against yours where he could, lips along your throat, your jugular. "Is this something you find pleasurable, or do you find it ticklish perhaps?"

Your mind short-circuted as he pressed against you. You had daydreams about this, but actually feeling his seven foot frame was another thing. You felt small and you were willing to break under him. "P-pleasurable…"

The faltering in your speech made him growl quietly, but you felt it. Your mind was clearly losing the ability to keep itself in check, yet he would not allow you the time to recover as he continued his travel down and moved his lips to cover your collar bone, pulling at your shirt collar. "You're stuttering quite a bit." Raiden shifted his lips to land beside your ear. He mumbled softly, voice just loud enough for you to hear. "Allow me to show you how absolutely irresistible you are in this state of submission. How this is turning me on so much."

You let out a shaky whine at his hot breath spilling against your ear. You hands twitched to touch him, but you would stay patient under his orders. You nodded quickly, eyes shutting.

"It almost feels like you have given yourself up; That I am the one calling all the shots here. You are at my mercy in every sense of the word. I am the one in control now, and you shall allow yourself to be completely submissive to me. Your body and mind belong to me now. Does this excite you?"

His husky voice vibrating through your mind was starting to make your thighs tremble. You nodded again. "Yes, master. My being is at your will."

You fully subjected yourself to him and his heart thrummed. "Excellent, just the way I like you. Keep your eyes closed." He softly placed a kiss on your head, tugging lightly on your hair.

But then he moved away.

You remained where you were, still tremebling softly. His loss of body heat made a shiver work its way up your spine. You worried a bit - worried he may be leaving - but then you heard the telltale sound of clothes shifting. He was undressing.

You wanted to give in to your creeping lust and watch him undress, but you kept your mind set to his command. It caused you to vibrate in anticipation. Your thighs were starting to feel slick as the heat pooled between them.

After a few seconds, you could hear his footfall approach you again. You straighted your position a little taller.

Raiden kneeled down to match your height a bit better. His hands came to land on your shoulders. "Open your eyes," he uttered softly.

Your eyes opened sluggish, trying to hold onto at least some control. Your body flamed as you were greeted with his bare chest displayed right in front of you, old scars and freckles prominent against his skin. You forced your eyes to continue onward and not get distracted. They trailed up his neck - how nice it looked and how you craved to give it the same attention, if not more, than he did to you. His shoulders moved slowly with his deep breaths, and there was a slight flush to pigmentation. You continued to eye up his body, noticed his lips again.

Then, your breath hitched. Your vision dialed to his exposed hair. It was a striking and pure white colour, rather long and healthy as it brushed against his sun kissed shoulders. It draped across him beautifully, some strands framing his defined face in a perfect compliment. He looked like poetry, and you weren't even a poet.

You were still for quite awhile, silently detailing it all to memory. You craved to touch him.

Raiden released a soft sigh as the look in your eyes glistened. He felt flattered under your gaze. "Do you want to touch me? If you so wish, I will allow it. I think you've earned it."

"May I please?" Your question was so quiet you weren't sure if he had even heard it.

"Yes, you may."

Relief washed over you. You shifted, softly bringing your hands to him. Gently, you expiermentally ran your fingers through just the ends of his pure white hair. The plush feel was almost ethereal, so gentle and calming to touch. You ran a thumb against the texture, as if to check it was true, before moving up to his scalp, running your fingers through the white strands. It was perfect, there were no knots; just smooth and elegant, beautiful hair. He clearly cared for his hair despite keeping it hidden. You pushed back hair from his face, tucked it behind his ear ever so lightly as if it were delicate and not a deity. He remained perfectly still for you.

"You're so spellbinding, Raiden," you whispered in complete honesty, forgetting the submissive title to just compliment him earnestly. You trailed your hands up his chest and stopped at his cheeks. You swiped over his lips. He had kissed your neck, your skin, but his lips against yours were still foreign.

Perhaps your mind was getting ahead of yourself. Perhaps you were entranced by his beauty.

Raiden kept silent as he watched your thoughts and admiration pass over your features. It was clear to tell you were becoming enraptured, but he preffered you in this state of mind.

Your desire finally caught up to you. You had been haunted by the thoughts of his hair and his lips for so long, and they had presented themselves before you. How could you not give in?

You gingerly brought yourself closer, kissing him in a featherlight embrace. It was ever soft, sweet and innocent, an experimental touch. You fingerpads ghosted at his jawline.

He didn't resist you, but didn't move. His lips remained still as you kissed him, allowing himself to bask in the feeling you gave him, and for you to take what you wanted.

You broke away after just a moment, eyes still closed. You allowed him a second - if he wanted to pull away, to tell you to stop. He did not. So you kissed him again.

The next time you pulled away, you remained a small distance away. Your sigh landed against his lips as you entertwined breaths. Your eyes opened and took him all in once again, his true beauty stark. You could feel yourself slowly losing the battle of falling completely and helplessly in love. "Sorry," you muttered, hands crossing behind his neck. You chuckled. "I guess that wasn't very submissive of me."

"I rather like it. It allows me to see how far I can push you into becoming infatuated with me."

"If that is what you want, you're a bit late. I've been infatuated with you for quite some time."

The admission striked a chord within him. "And have you had fantasies about me for this long too?"

Your hands froze. You shot him a glare, cheeks flaring. Guilty. "Perhaps.."

Of course he had to turn the serene moment into something filthy.

He could not surpress his grin. "Just perhaps?" The god waited for your expression intently.

"More than perhaps… I have fantasied this and… more than this on multiple occasions."

What an inviting revelation. "And what would this 'more' entail exactly? I would love for you to tell me."

You thickly swallowed. "I've had quite a few… thoughts and visions. M-most of them, um, though.." You hated how you stuttered, but his predatory watch was doing nothing to alievate your lust. "I've imagined y-your head between my thighs."

You weren't sure if there was a greater sin that telling a god straight to their face that you envisioned sex with them. Yet, it didn't make you feel dirty.

Raiden's eyes were locked onto you to watch you flush red. He openly smirked. "Continue, please."

You didn't think you could blush any harder, yet you did. The heat between your legs burned deliciously as you recalled the vision. You were leaking. "You were.. Er, your tongue. And mouth. You had me on my back as you ate me out. S-sometimes, I was on top and you let me ride your face. I fantasized about that the most."

He thoroughly enjoyed that more than he thought he would, and a low growling moan of approval slipped from his mouth. It was satisfying to know how aroused and hot you were becoming for him, and how you had been imagining him before. "Your dreams are quite vivid. And now, I'm starting to get some visions to add into these fantasies of our own. Would you like to know what I'm envisioning now?"

You were too flustered to answer with words, so you nodded, rubbing your legs together.

His hands ran up your thighs. You weren't as sly as you thought. His face inched closer to your ear again, voice filled with eroticism. "I'm now envisioning you on your back, with myself between your legs as they're strung over my shoulders, your breasts moving in time with each thrust I pound into you. Your nails cut into my back to ground yourself."

You breath turned ragged as he listed the sinful details. Your body flared, pulse thumping harshly against your ribcage. Your blood felt scolding, and it all coursed to your core. Your body twitched without your notice. "Yeah? Anything else you'd like?" You licked your lips, suddenly dry. "Any other fantasies?"

Something with how his voice was more of a growl was turning you into putty. His voice, so close to your ear, reverberated through your body, the illusion of you both being one. So close, so bound together. His voice felt like it was fucking you in itself.

Raiden devoured the site before him, your utterly breathless and trembling body made a hunger within him grow. It felt primal, and he resisted urges to take you for himself then and there. His lips ghosted over yours, breath touching yours as he spoke to stir you even further. "That one in itself is quite the vision alone. But I do have another… Would you like to hear it?"

"Yes… please."

His hand came to cup your chin. "Close your eyes." The hand slowly shifted down to the back of your neck.

You shuddered lightly and obeyed, your vision darkening once more.

He slowly leaned you back, where he was leaning over you yet still elevating you by your back. His voice was becoming deeper and rougher as he began to speak in a more seductive tone. "You're on top, and your hands are on either side of me as you gyrate your hips back and forth, pleasuring yourself and using me to your own benefit. Your head is thrown back and your eyes are tightly closed, enjoying the pleasurable sensations that I am giving you."

"Fuck!" Your body shuddered against your will, and the friction of your movement made you moan. You imagined his vision quite clearly in your mind with your eyes closed. You felt as if his words spoke of reality, your body reacting in kind, leaking as if you could truly feel yourself atop of him, riding.

You were making Raiden become breathless as well, seeing the image of you playing before him. He knew what was happening, he wasn't a fool. You were causing the same affect on him, pleasure building within him without even having touch him. You were a deviant. "Your body is trembling, your breathing is heavy and your moans are echoing off the room. Your legs are tightly gripped around my waist, shaking, and you're holding yourself as tight to me as you can. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you're close to your peak, and you're letting yourself go completely."

Your head dips back, the words washing over you. Your mind was running rampant with the visage of his words. Your body followed along with the story, and you whimpered pathetically in his hands. You felt a rush start to rise quickly inside of you.

"You're reaching your climax, your breath becoming more rough and raspy. You're grabbing onto me taught as if a lifeline as your body begins to shake uncontrollably and your legs begin to tremble even more. You release on top of me, you squeeze around me."

You moan, absolutely wretched, and your body follows exactly what he instructed in his story. Your hips gyrate as you feel yourself climax from his voice alone. He pushed you so far over the edge that you didn't care how pitiful you seemed as your hips moved to their own motion. You clutched his shoulder and moaned into his neck, riding your high.

Raiden panted as he felt your moan again his throat, eliciting a shiver up his back. He loved the sight of your body letting itself go as your moan grew louder to the visions of pleasure he delivered to you. Hips lips came to meet yours once more in the midst of your release, from the fantasy of your shared creation.

You kissed him hastily in return, moaning against the taste of his lips. Suddenly, you tugged him over top of you as you pulled your back to the floor, seeking his friction. In the new pose, his mouth began to nibble on your neck. You wrapped your legs, locking them over his hips, pressing him down to your mound. You ground against him so he could ride out his own release with you.

That was a feeling he was enjoying to its full extent, one he barely felt in his lifetime. Feeling the heat of your body against his, the feeling of your soft body rubbing him this way, the damp wetness through your clothes. He growled low as he began to rock himself against you, back and forth. His lips trailed up your neck with small bites to mark before landing on your lips one final time, and he rode out his own release.

The feeling of it all made you gasp, pushing his head further to deepen the kiss and milking him for all his glory. He was big and the feel of him rubbing against you made you feel carnal. Your legs tightened in the daze of your ecstasy when you felt his body release against you.

As he broke, he groaned against your lips and you drank it down, thirsty for it. When the kiss broke with a trail of saliva connecting, he resigned his head back to the junction of your shoulder.

His body relaxed within yours as he willed himself to regain composure. Your hand in his hair slowly released its grip to a soft pet and he sighed at the feeling, combined with your body heat. He allowed himself to relax in the afterglow, waiting for his breathing to regulate.

You freely panted, and when he felt his mind was stable enough, he looked back to you. Your palm caressed his face, as if confirming he was truly still there and that had happened. "Fuck, Raiden… You're fucking good."

You were too strung out to even care that you were cursing to a god.

His eyes shut as you left soft little kisses up his cheekbones, grabbing your hand with his own. He was still in his own dazed stupor, breathing slowly. "I could say the same for you, goddess."

"Mm." You dropped your legs off his hips, glowing at the petname. "If that's how it is with only just talking about our fantasies, I can only imagine how it will be when we actually do them."

Raiden's body started to relax with yours, the heat of the aftermath a soothing warmth. He felt a tiredness start to creep, but your words kept him awake. "I completely agree." He pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

You rested with each other in a comforting silence. His body temperature was almost unnatural, basking you in a serene state as you lightly played with his hair. He leaned into the touch. "How.. how did I do for my first time seducing?"

You just had to know.

"This being your first time still remains a complete shock to me; you had completely overtaken me. I'd say you earned the title of a temptress."

That was a relief. A delight, even, to know you fell a god's resolve. "Seeing as you were my first, I'm glad it know it was enjoyable to the both of us." You felt him smirk in your skin. He would be very much inclined to be more of your 'firsts'. "Am I right to assume that this isn't a game? That you wanted me to tempt you? Truly?" You knew he could feel your pulse quicken in your chest as the anxieties phrased your questions. You wanted to know what this meant, exactly.

Raiden pulled himself from your arms and you felt your stomach drop. But he his head draped to yours, pressing your foreheads together. "Correct."

You kissed him, needing to express your gratitude. This time he kissed back, stroking your arms. How you'd love to suffocate yourself in his kiss… "I'd like to make those fantasies you spoke of come to life, Raiden. I imagine you'd look quite beautiful below me. Now that I know what your hair looks like, this completely adds a new layer to my visions. You'll look so delicious from above, your hair draped over the pillows…"

He huffed in merit as you trailed off, your thoughts clearly displayed in the glint of your eyes. "Oh? Your thoughts still run rampant even after what we've just done? You're quite naughty indeed."

You chuckled and pushed yourself to sit up a bit, wincing a bit of the feeling of your wetness inside your clothes. "Don't worry, I won't ask you for a second round, old man." Besides, you really wanted a change of clothes.

"Another quip to my age?" He helped you stand. "I'd say I can keep up just fine."

You took his hand as he led you to the bathroom. You leaned on his side and pressed a kiss to his chin, really the only place you could reach on tip-toes with him standing straight. "No worries, I'm into older guys." You gifted another kiss. "And you did extremely well." Another one. "We'll ensure you don't break a hip in the future."

"Is that so? Well, if you truly believe that and want to treat me like your personal toy, at least give me a few weeks to recover first before you ride me."

"Mm, we'll see." He sets you down on your bathtub rim and you run your hands over his chest. You gaze was nothing less than affectionate and his responded in kind. "Truly though, Raiden, I did want to thank you. I know I was persistent to know what your hair looked like. I find you mesmerizing; I hope to see you like this more often."

"I'm pleased I could sedate your curiosity in some way." His voice was soft, sweet and it dared to lull you before you could both clean yourselves.

"I think you actually managed to tire me out, admittedly. I think I'm just going to clean a bit, change and sleep. You're… welcome to join me and stay the night, if you'd like."

The smile he gave you was so charming, so handsome on him, you considered taking him again. You supposed you could wait. "I would be pleased to wake up beside you in the morning. Are you sure that's alright?"

"More than alright. I just know the morning sun looks so wonderful on you. I will be anticipating it."

The words made his heart melt with each passing moment. Your words, your praise, and just yourself, truly captivated him. "I will as well. Sleep well tonight. I am certain I will be in your dreams throughout the night."

#mortal kombat #mk #mk raiden #raiden #raiden mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat raiden #raiden x reader #raiden x you #mk x you #mk smut #i hate naming fanfics lmao #my art

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warnersister · 4 months

Text

“Tea in the Cotswolds” Michael Gray x Reader

Michael Gray x Reader

When Thomas has business with Archibald Wentworth, a prestigious delegate in the Cotswolds, Michael is tasked with occupying the man’s adult daughter - getting more acquainted than expected.

The Blinders had expanded their business - all the way to the Cotswolds, Tommy had taken John and Michael for the ride; leaving Arthur back in Birmingham as he didn’t find this the right environment for any sort of negative articulation to be breaking out; especially at Wentworth Family Manor.

The houses became progressively larger as the carriage rolled down the cobbled street, some with drives too large to be able to see the house it belonged to at all. But eventually, the vehicle came to a stop at the looming house; substantially larger than all others. In his head, the only similar build Michael had seen to this was Buckingham Palace - large and awe-inspiring enough to be the encasings to a proud museum, contents sacred and protected.

But potentially Michael’s imagination wasn’t too far from reality.

“Right,” Tommy began, eyes flicking between the two men whom had accompanied him. “Today is a very important meeting. And i need to leave a good impression on the Wentworth’s. So we leave our egos and our guns in the car.” John’s brows creased in confusion. “Leave our guns?” “They’re not dangerous. This is legal business; real estate - dabbling a bit in the illegal side of things but not enough go start a fight. Mr Wentworth is an extremely prestigious man, as is his wife and daughter.” He told them calmly. “I’ll talk with Mr Wentworth, John you’ll talk with his missus and explain what we do: nicely. Michael - I’ll leave you to get acquainted with his daughter, yn.” “You’re leaving me with the child?” He asked, confused. “Yn is twenty.”

They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

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wrishwrosh · 4 months

Note

re: tags on labor in historical fiction post, would be very interested to hear what the four examples you mentioned are!!

ok u know what that tag WAS bait, thank you for taking it. technically speaking these aren't works dealing strictly with labor in historical fiction, they are my four treasured examples of BUREAUCRAT FICTION (so not NOT about labor in history?) i was gonna try to make this post pithy and short but then i remembered how extremely passionate i am about this microgenre i made up. so sorry.

bureaucrat fiction is not limited by genre or format but criteria for inclusion are as follows: long and detour-filled story about functionary on the outside of society finding unexpected success within a ponderously large and powerful System/exploring themes of class and physicality and work and autonomy and what it means to hold power over others beneath the heartless crushing wheels of empire/sad little man does paperwork. also typically long as hell. should include at least one scene where the protagonist is unironically applauded-perhaps for the first time in their life-for filling out a form really good. without further ado:

soldier's heart by alex51324. the bureaucracy: british army medical corps during wwi. the bureacrat: mean gay footman/new ramc recruit thomas barrow. YEAH it's a downton abbey fic YEAH it's a masterpiece. i've talked about it before at length, my love has not faded. the crowning moment of bureaucracy is a long interlude where thomas optimizes the hospital laundry (this actually happens twice or maybe three times)

hands of the emperor by victoria goddard. the bureaucracy: crumbling fantasy empire some time after magical apocalypse. the bureacrat: passionate late-career clerk from the hinterlands cliopher mdang. i reread this book every winter bc it is as a warm bath for my SAD-addled brain and every time i neglect all my responsibilities to read all nine billion pages in three days. it puts abt 93% of the worldbuilding momentum into elaborating all of the ministries and secretaries and audits necessary to run a global government and like 7% into the magic and stuff. there are also several charming companion novellas and an equally long sequel that dives more into the central relationship between cliopher and the emperor which i highly recommend if you like gentle old man yaoi and/or magic, but there's more bureaucracy in HOTE.

the cromwell trilogy by hilary mantel. the bureaucracy: court of henry viii. the bureaucrat: thomas cromwell, the real guy. curveball! it's critically acclaimed booker prize winning rpf novel wolf hall! mantel is really interested in particular ways of gaining and maintaining power in delicate and labyrinthine systems like the tudor court, specifically in strongmen who use both physical intimidation and metaphysical manipulation to succeed. under these conditions i do think my best friend long-dead historical personage thomas cromwell counts as Bureaucrat Fiction (as do danton and robespierre in a place of greater safety. bonus rec.)

going postal by terry pratchett. the bureaucracy: fantasy postal service of ankh-morpork. the bureaucrat: conman, scammer, and little freak moist von lipwig. this is definitely shorter and lighter than the other three entries on the list, sort of a screwball take on the bureaucrat. but the mail is such a classic bureaucracy thing? who doesn't love thinking about the mail? also contains a key genre element which is a fraught sexual tension with the person immediately above the protagonist in their hierarchy, who is also their god-king and boyfriend-dad. you can't tell me vetinari isn't torturing moist psychologically AND sexually.

anyway sorry about all this. if you've read any of these come talk to me about them. bureaucrat fiction recs welcomed with the openest possible arms.

#this post was very challenging to write bc i cannot spell the word bureaucracy to save my life. EVERY time i forget where the U goes #long post #asks #bureacracy. beaureaucracy. bereaucracy. fuck french

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lumosandnoxwriting · 1 month

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Crossed Lines || George Weasley

Title: Crossed Lines Pairing: Single Dad!George x Nanny!Reader Summary: Crossing the line between professional and personal is always a risk, and this time it’s one George is willing to take. A/N: I love dad!george and you can pry him from my cold dead hands. Feedback is always appreciated! <3

George Weasley never imagined his life would turn out this way.

As a man in his mid-20s, he was living the life most would be envious of. For starters he and his brother started their own company as teenagers, and now several years later they are still their own bosses. Not to mention he’s a single man, living in central London, free to do whatever and whoever he pleases. He gets to do what he loves, makes his own decisions and he makes enough money to do whatever he wants while also saving enough for his future.

That is until one fateful Tuesday morning, when he answered the door and found a car seat sitting on the welcome mat with the smallest baby girl he’d ever seen tucked inside. Whoever left her there was long gone, and when George brought her inside the note that fluttered to the floor revealed him as the father, with whoever wrote it stating that they weren’t cut out to be a Mother and the baby was George’s problem now.

Two weeks and one paternity test later, George took full custody of his daughter Remi.

Despite having no real hands-on experience with babies, and having no intentions of having children for at least a decade, the second George held that little girl he knew in his heart that he could never give her up. So in the blink of an eye George Weasley went from a single man to a single dad.

Thankfully his family is the best, and rallied around him as he settled into fatherhood. Fred took on more responsibility at work so George could have a more flexible schedule, and his Mum moved in to help him as he learned how to be a Dad. And of course his siblings were always more than eager to babysit when George needed a break.

But now that Remi is six months old, four months after she was dropped off at the front of his brownstone, it’s time for his life to resume. He misses work, and while he loves having his Mum around, he’s desperately in need of having his privacy back. Not to mention all the parenting books he’s consumed over the last few months all talk about how important it is for babies to have a routine, and it’s hard getting into one when George’s work schedule is in the air and Remi never knows if it’ll be her grandmother or her dad getting her up from her nap.

When discussing what childcare arrangements George wanted now that he’d be back at work full time and Molly would be back up North, both Fred and his Mother vetoed his idea to just have Remi at work with him all day. Day care seemed like the obvious solution, but even after touring the best rated facility in London George was hesitant. He hated the idea of dropping his daughter off at some strange building everyday, and wasn’t too keen on the idea of Remi not being the only child someone was looking after.

So George tasked his Mum with finding him the best Nanny in all of London.

While more expensive than daycare, George liked the idea that Remi would be at home where she’s most comfortable and she’d have her caretakers undivided attention. Not to mention he liked how easy it would be to stop by and get some time with his baby whenever he could sneak away from work.

He left all of the hiring decisions up to Molly, citing his inexperience with raising a child. Who better to pick the person that will be caring for his child than the woman who raised seven of her own kids?

And George didn’t regret trusting his mother for a second.

Well until he answers the door on his Nanny’s first day, only to find the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen standing on his doorstep.

She smiles up at him brightly, and George curses himself for not at least asking his Mum for a picture of his Nanny. All she had told him was that her name is Y/N and she has a degree in early childhood development. Truthfully, when George thought about having a Nanny, he always pictured an older woman who was looking for work now that her children have grown and flown the nest. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine someone like Y/N standing on his doorstep.

“Hi,” she greets awkwardly when George doesn’t say anything. “You must be George, I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Snapping out of his daydreams, George gives her a nod. “Nice to meet you as well. Come on in.”

He steps aside so Y/N can walk through the door, and he has to suppress a shiver when their bodies brush. She can’t be much younger than him, and the subtle scent of strawberries wafting from her skin is driving him crazy. George shuts the door a little too hard, before motioning for her to follow him into the living room.

Remi is sitting on the floor supported by some kind of special pillow Fleur bought for him, drool running down her chin as she chews on a toy. George watches as Y/N gets a look at his daughter for the first time, and the smile that takes over her face is breathtaking.

“Oh my goodness,” Y/N coos as she approaches, crouching down in front of Remi. “And you must be Miss Remi,” she greets, her voice soft and cheery as she reaches out to stroke the baby’s cheek. “Your Granny has told me so much about you, Gorgeous. I’m Y/N and I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

George is a puddle as he watches this woman interact with his child. That little girl is his entire world, and watching people fall in love with her always fills him with pride. Remi giggles as Y/N strokes her tummy and a grin breaks out over George’s face.

“She likes you.”

“I like her too.”

Remi squeals with joy as George scoops her up in his arms and he presses a kiss to her wet cheek before he places her on his hip. “Let me show you around and get everything sorted before I have to head off to work.”

Y/N follows behind George as he gives a quick tour, taking note of where everything is. Which is harder than it should be, since she’s distracted by the adorable baby and the gorgeous man that’s holding her. Molly had shown Y/N dozens of pictures of Remi during the interview process and talked about her nonstop, but she had been pretty silent when it came to her son. All she said was that George was young and had become a father unexpectedly when Remi’s mother abandoned the two month old on his porch.

Her heart had broken for the little girl and her father, which made saying yes to Molly’s job offer a piece of cake. And as George points out all of his daughter’s favorite things Y/N is sure in her decision to take this job. It’s clear that George doesn’t know a lot about being a parent, but it’s even more clear that he’s trying his best and he loves his daughter with every fiber of his being.

Y/N would be lying if she didn’t admit how attractive that is. Seeing this man who so clearly used to live the bachelor life bend over backwards to give his daughter the life she deserves is a major turn on. It doesn’t hurt that he’s extremely good looking either.

But it’s really in her best interest to push those kinds of thoughts away considering the fact that George is her boss and he’s trusting her to care for his child. Remi is the only Weasley Y/N will allow herself to fall in love with.

“So as far as a routine goes, Remi doesn’t really have one,” George admits sheepishly as they make their way back into the living room. “When she gets cranky we put her down for a nap and when she cries we feed her. We tried, but with my work schedule always changing and my Mum and I switching on and off, nothing we tried ever really stuck.”

”That’s what I’m here for,” Y/N reassures him with a smile. “It’ll probably take a few days for Remi to settle in from the change and get used to me, but once things settle we’ll start putting a routine in. And I’ll write everything down so you can follow it on the weekends as well.”

“Ugh, you’re amazing,” George gushes, and he doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s cheeks flush. “Okay well I guess that’s everything. I should head out now.” He’s thankful that Y/N turns away, pretending to look at her phone so he can have a private moment with his daughter.

“I love you Rem-Dog,” George murmurs as he presses his lips to the top of his daughter’s head. “I gotta go to work now, but I’m gonna miss you so much. And you’re gonna have so much fun with Y/N. Okay, baby?”

George kisses his daughter one last time, pressing his nose to the crown of her head and taking a deep inhale of her sweet baby scent before he pulls away and hands Remi off to Y/N.

“Call if you need anything,” George says as he walks towards the door. “My cell and office number are on the fridge. I should be home by five but I’ll call and let you know if that changes.”

”Sounds good.” Y/N follows George out, picking up Remi’s hand and making her wave. “Say bye to Daddy, Remi. Say don’t worry about me, everything’s going to be okay.” Her voice has that same dreamy quality it did when she first greeted Remi, and it immediately puts George at ease.

Y/N stays on the porch while George climbs in his car, bouncing Remi as she makes the little girl wave. He keeps his eyes on them for as long as possible, sighing when they disappear out of view.

“Well your first full week back is almost over,” Fred starts as he enters George’s office. “How does it feel?”

”Fucking exhausting,” George groans, flipping Fred off when he laughs.

Truthfully he really has enjoyed being back in the office. Over the past few months he’s been pretty hands off with the business, only coming in for important meetings or for emergencies, and it’s nice to get back working on the actual fun parts of his job. But holy hell is George tired.

After being at work all day George heads home, and after a quick pass off Y/N also heads out, putting George on Dad duty for the rest of the night. Which he totally loves after being away from Remi all day, but by the time he gets her fed, bathed and settled in for the night he’s absolutely exhausted. It doesn’t help that she’s started some kind of sleep regression since he went back to work, so he’s up a few times to put Remi back down.

When discussing with his mom what he might want from a nanny, they had discussed whether the position should be a live in one. George had shut that down pretty quickly, adamant that he only wanted someone there when he couldn’t be and that he could handle everything else. But after only one week he’s already considering asking Y/N if she’d be willing to make that change.

And if part of that is motivated by his craving to spend more time with his nanny it isn’t anyone’s business.

The only time he gets to spend with Y/N is the few minutes before he leaves for work when he hands Remi off, and then the few minutes in the evening before they do it again when he gets home. But seeing the way she lights up when she talks about his daughter has George craving her presence every moment of the day.

It helps that Remi seems to be just as infatuated with Y/N as he is. When he got home from work last night, Y/N had gushed about how amazing Remi has been, and that she barely seemed to need an adjustment period. She explained that sometimes babies have difficulties getting used to their parents being away and having a stranger in the house, but from that very first day Remi took everything like a champ.

The photo George has on his phone of Remi fast asleep on Y/N’s chest from Monday afternoon is a testament to that. The little girl has formed a bond with her nanny right from the start, and George knows his daughter would be thrilled to have some more time with Y/N.

“And how’s the nanny? Still hot?” Fred asks as he plops down in a chair across from George’s desk.

”Ugh, fuck. I never should have told you that.”

”Don’t worry, dude. I’d never try and screw one of your employees,” Fred assures. “Especially one that you wanna fuck too.”

George throws a pen at Fred in an attempt to knock the stupid grin off of his face. “I don’t wanna fuck Y/N.”

”Oh right, you wanna kiss her and hold her and date her and make love to her,” Fred teases.

”You’re such a fucking prat.” George sighs, shuffling some papers on his desk. “Fuck this. It’s Friday and I’m tired and I wanna see my baby. I’m going home early.”

Fred stands up as George starts to collect his things. “Fine, go back home to your girls. I’ll see you later.”

He’s almost out the door when George registers what he’s said and he whips a pad of post it notes at his brother’s retreating back. “Fucking prick!” He shouts, trying to ignore the bright pink blush on his cheeks.

George’s decision to ask Y/N to move in is solidified the second he comes through the door.

Remi’s cries echo off the walls, and he barely has the door shut behind him before he’s barrelling down the hall towards his daughter. When he reaches the living room George stops in his tracks. Y/N is slowly swaying back and forth, quietly murmuring to Remi as she rubs her back soothingly. His daughter’s red face is pressed into her nanny’s neck and even from across the room George can see how wet her cheeks are.

“Is she okay?” George asks as he approaches, his voice frantic.

Y/N spins around so she’s facing him, an attempt at a grin crossing her face. “Teething,” is her simple reply, and George nods in understanding.

He vaguely remembers when Victorie, his niece, started teething since Bill often came to hang out with Fred and George when he needed a break. Not that George can blame a baby, if he had something sharp cutting through his gums and had no ability to verbalize the pain and ask for help he’d be screaming his head off too.

“Yeah, my Mum thought she might be close to cutting one in the front.” Y/N passes Remi to him when he holds his hands out, and he immediately cuddles her close to his chest. “It’s alright, love. Daddy’s here.”

Y/N can practically feel her heart melt as she watches George soothe his daughter, and she silently kicks herself when she realizes how attractive it is watching this big man hold a baby. Of course she’s read those books, the ones where the hot single dad and the nanny end up falling in love and becoming a family. But when she graduated from Uni and decided to go into private care over a day care or teaching she had promised herself she would always remain professional.

Except the moment George Weasley opened his front door that notion went right down the drain.

Watching this man be a parent makes her ovaries ache, and in a futile attempt to squander any feelings she may have for George, Y/N has tried to keep their interactions to a minimum. She keeps their hand-offs as brief as possible, showing up in the morning with only a few minutes to spare and exiting so quickly in the evening that George barely has his shoes off before she’s out the door.

The last thing she needs is to fall in love with the man who signs her paychecks.

It doesn’t help that Remi is probably the best child she’s ever looked after, and considering she started babysitting at 10 that’s a huge compliment. After only a week she already has formed an attachment to the little girl, and it pains her everytime she has to hand her back at the end of the day. Which usually ends up pissing her off, because how could the woman that gave birth to such a beautiful baby just give that all away?

Apart from today’s teething related meltdown Remi has been nothing but a ray of sunshine. She giggles at everything, and Y/N instantly fell in love with her gummy smile. She’s also learned that Remi is a baby that loves to cuddle, and she spends most of her afternoon laying on the couch, holding the infant close to her chest as she sleeps.

Sometimes she feels thankful for that horrid woman who gave all of this up, because Y/N is the one who gets to bask in the glow of little Remi. But sometimes those thoughts lead her down the bath of daydreaming what it would be like to be Remi’s Mum, and by extension George’s wife, and she has to shut them down quickly. Lusting after a life she can’t have is not helpful.

“I put some of her teethers in the freezer,” she explains as George starts to sway back and forth in his own attempt to soothe Remi. “The cold will help soothe and numb the pain, but if you have a hard time getting her to bed you can give her some children’s tylenol.”

Y/N can feel her heart breaking as Remi lets out another wail, hating the fact that she is about to leave when she’s still so upset. She steps closer to George, resting a hand on Remi’s back before she leans in to kiss her tear-stained cheek.

“Bye, Rem-Dog. I’m going to miss you so much, but you have your dad here with you, yeah? And I know you’re in pain but go easy on him, okay? I can feel the anxiety rolling off him,” she pauses to look at George, giving him a teasing wink before she refocuses her attention on the baby. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“You got this, George,” Y/N reassures, giving his arm a squeeze.

She turns to grab her things and head out when a hand closes around her wrist.

“Wait, Y/N,” George calls, tugging so she turns to look at him. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about, before you go. I was wondering if you’d consider becoming a live-in nanny?” He rushes the question out, clearly nervous.

“You want me to move in?” Y/N asks, her voice breathy. Immediately she clears her throat, shaking her head to bring her back to reality. This is George asking for more help with his baby, nothing more.

“I do yeah,” George confirms with a nod. “I'm in way over my head, and I could really use the extra help in the evenings. I can tell how attached Remi is to you already, and I know she’d love to have you around more.” He leaves out the fact that he’d love to have her around more too, figuring that would be anything but helpful to hear. “I’d pay you more, obviously, and you’ll still have the weekends off. If you’re stuck in a lease I can pay to get you out of it, anything you need.”

“I’ll do it,” Y/N agrees without even taking a second to think about it.

Is moving in with her hot boss and his incredible daughter probably a bad idea? Absolutely. But with the wide grin George is directing at her it’s easy for Y/N to push all of those negative thoughts to the back of her head.

Besides, living here with George and Remi is a good thing, she’ll probably learn all of George’s annoying habits and whatever feelings are starting to develop will fade just as quickly as they started.

At least Y/N hopes so.

Turns out her plan to use moving in with George as a way to diminish her feelings for him is a failure. An epic, fucking failure.

Because as it turns out, George has no annoying habits.

When he wakes up with Remi in the morning he’s quiet, taking extra care to whisper and tiptoe around as to not wake Y/N up before her alarm. When he makes his breakfast he always sets some aside for her as well, and there’s always a fresh pot of coffee waiting. He’s always sure to clean up after himself, to the point where sometimes Y/N forgets he even lives there. And despite the fact that she moved in to help him out more, George is always respectful of her time. When he gets home from work he takes over with Remi, giving Y/N some time for herself. When she takes over again, putting Remi to bed, George always cooks them dinner and they spend the rest of the evening talking and hanging out.

Everyday it feels less and less like she’s his employee helping him care for his daughter and more like they’re a couple caring for their baby together.

Which Y/N knows is a bad thing, and there’s constantly a voice in the back of her head telling her she needs to put up boundaries to keep both George and Remi at arms length. But the more time she spends around them the harder it is. She is quickly discovering that she isn’t just attracted to George’s looks and his dedication to being a father, but to his personality as well. He has a great sense of humor and such a kind heart, and Y/N finds herself missing his presence when he’s not around.

So again, her plan has been an epic failure.

It certainly doesn’t help that three weeks into her new live in position, Y/N rushes into the nursery one night to comfort a screaming Remi only to find her boss standing in the middle of the room shirtless as he rocks his daughter.

“Oh,” Y/N gasps as she steps in the room, alerting George to her presence. When he spins to face her it takes all of her willpower to keep her eyes focused on his face and not his naked torso. “I just wanted to check and make sure everything is okay.”

George swallows thickly, reminding himself that he’s got his crying child in his arms and now is not the time to be ogling his nanny. But fuck is it hard. Because Y/N is standing there in the tiniest pair of sleep shorts and the thinnest tank top George has ever seen, her hair still mussed from sleep.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he mumbles once he finds his composure. “I was hoping to get her back to sleep before she woke you, I’m sorry.”

Remi’s been cutting two new teeth this week, and it’s safe to say sleep has not been something happening here in the Weasley house. He and Y/N have been taking shifts during the night, but he could tell that the lack of sleep was starting to wear her down, so when Remi woke him tonight his sole mission was to soothe her back to sleep as quickly as possible.

“And is there a reason why the two of you are half naked?” Y/N teases, and even in the dim light George can see the blush tinting her cheeks.

George shrugs a shoulder, giving her a grin. “I read in a book that skin to skin contact is supposed to help comfort babies.” Truthfully he hadn’t even considered the possibility of Y/N coming to help him, so George hadn’t given it a second thought when he stripped Remi down to her diaper before he pulled his own shirt off. All he wanted to do was soothe his child, but seeing the way Y/N is having a hard time from looking at his bare chest George is thankful for his actions for a totally different reason.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Y/N responds playfully, and she doesn’t miss the way George’s eyes scan her body. It sends a shiver down her spine, and if there wasn’t a crying baby in his arms she certainly would be throwing herself at him.

Over the past few weeks Y/N has had an inkling that the feelings she has are not totally one sided, and the way George is looking at her now is confirmation. Clearly they are both trying to keep from crossing into unprofessional territory for Remi’s sake, but she’s not sure how much longer they’ll be able to resist this pull.

“Go back to bed,” George instructs, his voice low.

Y/N nods, her stomach fluttering at the command in his voice. Wanting him to be just as affected as she is, she approaches George, maintaining eye contact as she places one hand on his bare shoulder and the other on his abs. She smiles to herself as he tenses under her touch, leaning in to kiss Remi on the forehead.

“Goodnight, baby girl.”

Just as quickly as she was there Y/N is retreating, looking back over her shoulder at George as she lingers in the doorway.

“Sweet dreams, George.”

As soon as she’s gone George tosses his head back and groans. “God damnit,” he mumbles. He looks down at Remi, who’s cries have finally started to quiet. “You two girls will be the death of me I swear.”

It’s the first sunny day they’ve had in weeks, so when he woke up this fine Saturday morning he decided a picnic in the park was the best way to spend it. Even though it’s technically her day off, after he’d packed up the food, Remi George had stopped by Y/N’s room to see if she wanted to join them. Much to his delight, a yes was coming out of her mouth before he’d really even finished asking.

And as he watches her push Remi in a swing, both of them giggling like crazy, George knows one thing for certain: he’s fallen for his nanny. It’s something he’s come to terms with in the two weeks it has been since that night in the nursery. After the way she touched and teased him George had an inkling that his feelings for Y/N were mutual, and their interactions these last few weeks have only confirmed it.

For starters, touching has become a normal part of their relationship. Now when they pass Remi back and forth it’s normal for their hands to brush, lingering just a few seconds too long. When they sit on the couch together in the evenings Y/N takes the spot right next to him, as opposed to sitting on the opposite end like she had previously. It seems like both of them take every opportunity to be close to the other.

Their conversations seem to have a flirty air to them now too, with both of them taking every opportunity to make the other blush. Not to mention the fact that Y/N is supposed to have the weekends off, and yet she somehow always ends up spending them with George and Remi.

Sometimes George even forgets that Y/N is his employee, because when the three of them are together it just feels like they’re a family. Much to George’s pleasure it seems that way to others as well, because on at least four different occasions when the three of them have been out together people have complimented them on how adorable their daughter is, and Y/N has been mistaken as his wife at least a handful of times. Even strangers know that they’re meant to be together.

And George is just waiting for the perfect moment to make it official.

He grins as Y/N starts to head towards him, holding his arms out for the baby.

“Dada, dada, dada!” Remi babbles as Y/N places her in his outstretched hands, and it makes his heart burst just like every other time she’s said it.

“Hi baby,” George coos, settling Remi down on his lap. He shivers when Y/N takes a seat next to him on the blanket, their sides pressed together tightly from how close she chooses to be. “Did you have fun on the swings?”

“Yes I did,” Y/N answers for Remi, her voice morphing into the delicate tone she always uses when talking to the baby. “Y/N is so much fun, Daddy. So much more fun than you,” she teases.

They both let out a laugh when Remi reaches for Y/N, seemingly confirming her words.

Instead of taking the baby Y/N leans into George’s side, holding out both her hands so Remi and grab on to her pointer fingers. George immediately wraps an arm around her waist, pressing Y/N even closer into his chest. It feels so natural that George has to resist his urge to lean in and kiss her on the forehead.

Y/N smiles as Remi tries to shove her fingers in her mouth, keeping her attention focused on the baby so she doesn’t get lost in George’s eyes. She can feel his gaze on her, and it’s taking everything in her not to return it.

She shouldn’t even be here right now. She’d had plans to get brunch with some of her Uni friends, but the second George stopped in the doorway of her room, a stupid smile on his face and his perfect baby in his arms as he invited her on a picnic she couldn’t say no. It’s definitely not normal, the amount of time she spends with George and Remi when she’s off the clock, but Y/N stopped caring about that weeks ago. In reality, George could never pay her another cent and she’d still be sitting right where she is.

Which should terrify Y/N, but it doesn’t.

“I can’t believe how big she’s getting,” George comments, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts.

She hums in agreement. “It’s crazy how fast they grow at this age. I swear some days she grows overnight.”

“She looks so much like her mom.”

Y/N freezes, just watching George stroke his fingers over the dark, wispy hair that covers Remi’s head. He’s never talked about her before, and Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about the woman who makes up the other half of Remi’s DNA.

“Maybe,” Y/N comments, grinning as Remi giggles. “But she has your eyes and your smile.” When all George does is hum in acknowledgement she continues. “What was she like? Remi’s mom?”

George shrugs as best he can with Y/N pressed against him. “I don’t know, really. Which sounds awful. We didn’t really spend too much time talking, if you get what I mean. I had totally forgotten about her until Remi showed up on my doorstep and the note from her fell out onto the ground.”

“I know I probably shouldn’t think ill of someone I don’t know,” Y/N says cautiously. “But it must take an awful person to just abandon their baby. Especially a baby like Remi. I mean, what if you weren’t home? Remi would have just been sitting out there on the porch for who knows how long.” She shudders in horror at the thought. “I just can’t ever imagine leaving her behind.”

The protective tone in her voice drives George crazy in the best way possible. He knows, obviously, that Y/N cares for his daughter, but hearing her be so angry at the woman who abandoned his daughter is something different.

“I know what you mean. Being a dad was something I never even considered. But the second I held that baby for the first time I knew I could never give her up.” George pauses, considering his next words carefully. “Sometimes I think about what life would be like, if Remi’s mom had come to me when she found out she was pregnant and we had the opportunity to be a family. But I don’t think I would have liked it that much.”

“Oh?” The soft tone of George’s voice is sending goosebumps all over her body. “Why is that?”

“Because then I never would have needed a nanny, and Remi and I wouldn’t have met you.”

His words take all of the air out of Y/N’s lungs, and her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest. Because she’s had those thoughts too, and as selfish as it is Y/N has always come to the same conclusion as George. Remi will never know her biological mother, and part of Y/N aches for that little girl. But a larger part of her is thankful that Remi will never know the pain of her mother’s abandonment, and she’s thankful that she gets to be the woman in her life.

“Thanks for coming with us,” George murmurs after a few moments of silence, causing Y/N to finally look up at him. He has the dopiest grin on his face and it makes her heart race.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Y/N responds, and the conviction in her voice lets George know she’s being honest with him.

George reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear, and he grins at the hitch in her breath. “Remi likes spending so much time with you.”

“Just Remi?” she asks teasingly, digging her teeth into her bottom lip.

“No,” George murmurs honestly, reaching up to trace Y/N’s jaw with his thumb. “Not just Remi.”

Things finally come to a head a few days later, and they have to decide whether to end this arrangement all together or finally cross that line.

“Y/N? Remi?”

Y/N grins as George’s voice echoes through the house as the front door clicks shut behind him. “Living room!” she calls back.

As soon as George comes into view Remi starts babbling, her tiny fists reaching out towards George. “Dada, dada, dada!”

They’re sitting on the floor, with Y/N’s back against the sofa as Remi sits in her lap so they can read a book. But as George comes closer Y/N tosses the book aside, focusing on the man approaching her. Ever since the picnic in the park they’re subtle glances have become more obvious, and she doesn’t shy away from checking George out.

Because damn that man knows how to wear a suit.

“Hey Rem-Dog,” George greets, taking a seat on the floor across from Y/N. He opens his arms as Y/N lets Remi go, waiting for her to crawl closer before he swoops in. Picking Remi up under her armpits George hoists her in the air, blowing raspberries against her belly to make her laugh.

Y/N waits for George to return the giggling baby to his lap before she acknowledges him. “Hi. How was work?”

George shrugs, giving her a smile. “It was okay. Couldn’t wait to get home though.”

The intensity in his gaze makes Y/N blush, and she clears her throat as she looks away. “Well it’s a good thing you’re here now,” she manages to squeak out once she’s calmed down.

Things have felt so intense between them lately, but Y/N is waiting for George to make the first move. While she’s absolutely sure he feels the same way as she does, she doesn’t want to risk it by being the first one to make a move. Because on the off chance she goes for it and George rejects her, not only will Y/N be humiliated but she’ll lose Remi and that’s not something she’s willing to risk.

“Yeah, good thing.” George leans down to kiss the top of Remi’s head. “How was she today? Any problems?”

Y/N chuckles at the notion of Remi being anything but a perfect angel. “Nope, she was perfect, as per usual. She tried broccoli for the first time and went down for her nap easily. And every time I’d show her a picture of you she’d reach for it shouting Dada.”

That makes George’s heart melt. “That’s my smart girl,” he coos.

They both just watch for a minute as Remi squirms on George’s lap, one of her hands fisted in his dress pants while the other smacks his knee. No one says anything, but the silence between them isn’t awkward at all.

George suddenly takes a deep breath and just as he’s about to open his mouth to say something Remi cuts him off.

“Mama, mama!” she babbles for the first time, her little arms reaching out towards Y/N as she makes grabby hands. “Mama!”

Tears immediately spring to Y/N’s eyes, and she stands up, turning away from George so he can’t see how affected she is. “Oh. Um. I’ll be right back.”

George watches dumbfounded as Y/N disappears down the hall, presumably into his room. “Shit, shit shit,” he murmurs, standing up to follow after her. He places Remi in her playpen, kissing her quickly on the forehead. “Hang on, baby. Dada has to go check on Mama.”

Y/N’s door is closed when George reaches it, and he gives a tentative knock. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, George!” She calls, but George can hear her sniffling.

“No, you’re not.” He pauses, grabbing the doorknob. “I’m coming in.”

She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, furiously wiping away tears and George immediately takes two steps into the room before falling to his knees in front of her. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she dismisses, shaking her head. “I don’t even know why I’m crying to be honest. It shouldn’t be a big deal, obviously I’m not Remi’s mom-”

“But you wanna be,” George murmurs, cutting her off.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, George,” Y/N apologizes. She wipes away the rest of the tears on her cheeks before she starts to push him away. “Let me just pack my stuff and I’ll be out of here, I’m sorry.”

George grabs Y/N’s wrists, keeping her hands pressed to his chest but keeping her from pushing him away. “What the hell do you have to be sorry for, Y/N?”

“I’m her nanny, George. I’m just supposed to be looking after her while you’re at work or whatever. I’m not supposed to be imagining a life where she’s my child and we’re a family. I crossed a line and you should fire me.”

“Fuck that,” George scoffs. “Look at me, Y/N.” He doesn’t continue until Y/N meets his gaze. “If anyone here crossed a line it was me. The second I saw you on my porch that morning I was fucked, I wanted you in every single way I could have you, Y/N. Hell, I asked you to move in under the guise that I needed more help with Remi when in reality I just wanted an excuse to be closer to you.”

George’s confession shocks her, and a humorless chuckle leaves her lips. “Really?”

“Really,” George confirms. “So if I should fire you for what you did, then you should quit for what I did. And if you really want to leave I will walk away right now. I’ll head back into the living room and sit with Remi while you pack and I’ll let you walk out the front door.”

“And if I don’t want to leave?” Y/N immediately asks.

“Then I’m going to kiss you, and once I've conveyed to you how much you truly mean to me, we’ll go back out to the living room to spend time with our daughter. Because Y/N, you stopped being just the nanny weeks ago. And I think you know that.” George gives her a pointed look. “The choice is yours.”

Her choice comes in the form of her hands fisting in George’s shirt seconds before she pulls him into a kiss. George’s arms immediately wrap around her waist, and he pulls Y/N off of the bed and into his lap, needing to get her as close as possible.

“Dada! Mama!”

Remi’s shout breaks their kiss, but George keeps their foreheads pressed together as they chuckle. “I guess we’ll have to wait until Remi goes to bed to cross other lines.”

Y/N shakes her head, playfully smacking George on the side of his head. He can be such an idiot. But at least he’s her idiot, and that’s all that really matters.

#George Weasley #George Weasley fic #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fan fiction #George Weasley fanfic #gw #Harry Potter imagine #golden

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idle-daydreams · 8 months

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Violently Yours

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, stalking, mentions of abuse and murder

Chuuya can’t stop looking at you. Can’t stop thinking of you, thinking of all the things he could do to you.

He wants you so bad, it frightens even himself.

And the worst part is that you don’t even know it. You only know him vaguely as some guy, some guy who lives nearby because he stops by the convenience store almost every night. What you don’t know is that he lives almost on the other side of town, far from your crappy little neighbourhood, and that it takes him an extra hour to make a detour to your place of work.

Chuuya doesn’t know what to do. His usual bravado deserts him when in your presence, and he can’t help but slink between the shelves, sneaking peeks at you as you work behind the counter. Surely you must have noticed him - he’s not bad looking, after all, and he puts a lot of effort on his appearance - but you don’t treat him differently than any other customer. He hates it a little, but also finds it oddly exciting, because you treat him just like any other human being. You banters back when he makes small talk, smile at him when you ring up his purchases, and wish him a good day when he leaves. For someone used to being treated with fear and awe, it was a welcome change.

You, on the other hand, are effortlessly beautiful. You wander around the store, hair tumbling to your shoulders from the messy bun atop your head, looking as though you’d just stepped out of bed yet gorgeous enough to put any model to shame. Chuuya doesn’t get how other people don’t notice, how they don’t writhe and die from sheer envy of your being. It fills him with rage when your boss berates you, when your coworkers leave you the hardest tasks, how you’re forced to work holidays and late hours to pick up their slack. It makes him want to murder them, for daring to make your life more difficult than it is. Because it is difficult. You have no parents, and a history of priors from being shunted through a series of fosters. Chuuya knows, because he’s found out everything about you, right down to the day you were born. The man who abused you when you were thirteen lies at the bottom of the river, feet encased in cement; the woman who forced you to spend a night out in her yard as punishment for some childish mistake had her home burned down. Chuuya’s been debating whether or not to go after your old case workers, but he’s been holding off because if he murders your coworkers, the police will focus on you as the central link to all the crimes.

Some part of him hates himself for these thoughts. He’s never liked killing; unlike Dazai’s lack of regard for human life, Chuuya always tried to avoid killing people if he could help it. It was messy and inconvenient and more trouble than it was worth. Violence was fine, but dead bodies brought too much attention. Besides, someone with a broken leg could learn from their mistakes, and Chuuya was all for second chances.

But not for the people who messed with you.

You were special. You were his. Chuuya’s own little angel, tainted and yet pure.

And so he watches you from the shadows, from around corners and darkened doors, waiting for the day he will make you his.

#yandere nakahara chuuya #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere #yandere bsd #yandere chuuya

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madarasgirl · 3 months

Text

A Night for Hunting Ch.15 -A New Home

T/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x F!Reader, soft yandere, romance, Hellsing cast, mild sexual content, somnophilia, ‘blood drinking,’ depressed vampire @alastorhazbin On AO3 Words: 4989

Happy New Year! I have good vibes about this upcoming year already. Looking back, this account is now one year old! Crazy how everything I wrote under this name was done within the last year. I do think there is improvement between now and what I first wrote. Hopefully I will continue to get better as I write more this year!

The manor and its adjacent towers were constructed in the Victorian style. There was only one main building, but it was massive, with hundreds of windows lining a mansion of at least three stories tall. From outside, there may have been another top floor. Perhaps the sole purpose of this upper level was simply to grant greater ceiling height to the foyer or another central room, which seemed an aesthetic the wealthy aspired to.

You continued to gawp at the scale of the place. It had seemed as if the forest stretched on forever when the manor suddenly came into view from behind a gargantuan fence. The coiffered lawn hugged a paved path on either side, ending elegantly in a line of manicured spruce trees.

You swallowed as you entered the foyer and stepped closer to Alucard. The entrance was every bit as stately as this building’s exterior, but your observations of the decor were cut short by an older gentleman who came to greet you. Silver cuff links adorned a neatly pressed dress shirt and the muted violet vest complimented his slacks well. Wisps of bangs escaped a shaggy ponytail, swaying as he dipped his head.

“Alucard,” he acknowledged the vampire before turning to you and you stiffened as he bent into a slight bow with an arm over his chest. “Young Miss, welcome to Hellsing.” He spoke with a polished lilt.

Your eyes widened and you almost flinched at the clipped words. You were not expecting anyone to bow to you, not even the posh butler. As quick to fluster as you were, you barely managed to squeak out a reply. “Y-yes! Thank you!”

The corners of the old man’s crow feet crinkled around slate grey eyes with the cordial smile. “You may call me ‘Walter.’ I am the Hellsing family’s butler.” He extended an arm towards you with the palm up and you snatched it up to shake.

“Nice to meet you too!” You stammered, clutching the worn hand between both of yours as you introduced yourself.

For a beat, no one spoke, but Walter’s teeth were now showing through the smile.

“Your jacket, Young Miss?” He clarified.

Of course he meant your jacket. This man was clearly a proper member of the English upper society. You nearly buried your burning face in your hands as the other man took your outerwear after you removed it, feeling Alucard mocking you while you decided to ignore him.

“If you would follow me,” the butler said as he turned on his heel and strode through the foyer, disappearing down a hall.

Multiple corridors passed by. This was no ordinary mansion. It was the headquarters of a secret organization that hunted vampires and ghouls for generations. How in the world was this vast organization and the existence of such creatures kept confidential? Perhaps ‘agreeing’ to stay here with Alucard was a mistake. What were you doing here? You had no business poking around with hunts for the undead.

Hold your head high, little one. You belong here as much as anyone.

How that could be was beyond you. You weren’t strong or dangerous like the few guards you glimpsed. Neither were you as sophisticated as the butler or the other members of staff you came across thus far. It was as if even the serving staff were selected for decorum. You looked as uncomfortable and undignified as you felt to be standing where you were. Your steps faltered and you let yourself fall behind, your eyes tracking Alucard’s retreating back up ahead with longing, knowing it would be unwise to seek his touch in the midst of watching eyes.

Rumbling laughter echoed as his touch brushed your mind once again. You are a human within a human organization. It is the police girl and I who are out of place, silly child.

His voice jolted you from your reveries and you rushed to catch up. You prayed Alucard was correct as you were ushered up a grand set of stairs in solid oak and into another room, forcefully straightening your back with the meek hope of projecting poise you did not feel.

--------------------

The stout door fell shut behind you, and with it went the last of your freedom. Your gaze fell on the lone figure by a sprawling wooden desk where a stoic blonde woman sat with her mouth hidden behind intertwined fingers. She wore men’s attire, complete with a cravat and cross at her throat. The outfit suited her demeanor well. The light reflected off her glasses and when the glint passed, you caught the brilliant calculating stare of crystal blue.

You immediately knew you were being evaluated. You let out a breath as the nervous weight returned, coiling heavily in your stomach and your gaze nearly fell from hers. Shifting your weight to your other foot, your fingers twitched as you fought the urge to stick your hands in your pockets.

You only remembered to keep breathing when Walter put a closed fist to his lips and cleared his throat.

“You are looking at Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, head of the Hellsing Organization.” Walter swept forward and bent at the hips in a formal bow to address his master, then retreated into the shadows of the room. You could barely see the man once he settled against the wall by Integra’s side.

You didn’t meet Sir Hellsing’s gaze again for fear of appearing overly bold, but lowered your head in greeting. You licked your lips and nibbled the inside of the bottom, still trying desperately not to let out too many indications of your anxiety. It felt like you were being stripped bare. This was Alucard’s master. Her presence was just as commanding and words wouldn’t come to your now parched throat.

Long moments passed in silence as your heart hammered away. There was no slouch in your posture nor restless bounce to your feet. You would not allow yourself to present yourself in such a slovenly manner. Though you were under no physical threat, you may as well have been on trial at a cross examination.

Your silent judge took out a cigar and spoke at last.

“So this is the woman occupying my servant's time. And who inspired him to steal my jet for a night,” the master of the castle uttered casually with a raised brow and an unreadable grin.

Walter stepped up to her side to light the cigar she dangled between her lips and she exhaled with a plume of smoke. The spicy aromas of tobacco and leather filled your nose. Sir Hellsing took another extended draw with her eyes closed before letting it out. The ghostly fumes trailed into the air in lazy tendrils and gradually vanished.

You too wanted to disappear under the scrutiny of so many intimidating people, but her words caught your attention.

You shot Alucard a dirty look. He stole it? But of course he did. It was exactly like how you came home one night to an empty apartment. The bat bastard had collected all your stuff for 'safekeeping' and announced it was time for you to move in with him. What about your human rights?! The asshole next to you cackled boorishly and appeared much too pleased with himself.

“Shut up about that! It isn’t funny!” You snapped at him before remembering yourself too late as you looked back at Sir Integra with mortification. “I mean–”

Surprise passed fleetingly by the other woman’s face until it was replaced by the faintest hint of a smile. “At ease,” she waved you off as the damn vampire interrupted.

“Delightfully feisty, is she not, Master?”

"Alucard, the circumstances may be amusing to you, but do not forget that I gave you leave to bring a civilian here. Hellsing’s purpose is no trifling matter.” The woman reprimanded the vampire before her gaze settled on you. “You are his responsibility. However, you will undergo basic training. Do not make me rescind this demonstration of goodwill."

Your heart plummeted at the mention of training, knowing you would struggle under the tutelage of anyone who hunted monsters for a living. But you were permitted to stay with Alucard (even if you complained a lot). Not knowing what response was most appropriate, you stood even straighter at attention with your chin tilted up slightly. This was a military compound afterall.

“Yes ma’am!” You shouted, though you felt no confidence from the declaration.

Her lips twitched as her expression softened a touch. Steel blue eyes continued to appraise you, yet the severe furrow to her brows eased. Her fingers drummed across the desk. Unexpectedly, she gave you her blessings.

"Take care of him. He is little more than a sobbing child," she stated.

Huh? Who was this woman to insult him so? You looked to Alucard, but the said vampire didn’t seem offended. Rather, he was grinning from ear to ear, appearing very pleased he was permitted to keep you. You were utterly confused by their dynamic.

“I expect as much from the woman who earned my wayward servant’s affections. You may leave.” She dismissed you.

Your vampire turned, hiding you from prying eyes and murmuring words only meant for you. "This is now your home, little dove." He caressed the crown of your head as you stared at him with huge eyes filled with uncertainty. His eyes snapped to a younger blonde girl standing by the wall who you did not notice prior and she stumbled awkwardly to attention with a salute.

“Ah, y-yes, Master!”

You left the chamber accompanied by a young changeling and the warmth of her sire’s gaze lingering on your back.

--------------------

Seras, the relatively new fledgling, was your tour guide. A part of you still wanted to dislike her, but she was just too sweet. It was nice to have someone normal to talk to who didn’t make you feel like you were strapped to a dissection table.

“Soooo…you came here with Master?!” She ventured after half an hour of meaningless banter and showing you around the training grounds.

“Yes I did.” You were uncomfortable with the prospects of having to explain your relationship to anyone since you've never had to, but the feeling was particularly intense with Alucard's changeling.

“How did you meet?” She asked while turning back to you with a chipper smile.

Gosh, this was getting so awkward you almost wanted to scratch your own head.

“...We ran into each other one night after I was done at work…” Your thoughts raced. Could she smell the half-truth? Seras seemed naive and kind of cute, but she remained a stranger you just met. How much could you tell her? How much did she already know?

“Oh! I hope you were okay! Master would insult me if I did something like that,” she casted her eyes to the side and pouted, nearly deflating with her attestation.

You chortled with laughter, empathising with the young girl as you stated with a vacant stare, “He laughs at me all the time.”

At that she cheered up and the tension in your thoughts released as the two of you found some common ground while venting about Alucard’s indiscretions.

You walked side-by-side. The blonde vampiress rambled on as she took you through the main features of the manor. Hall after hall passed as she led you between each room you would need.

Wainscotting, coffered ceilings, gilded crown moulding, crystal chandeliers, plush carpets, rare marble tiles. Every lavish upgrade you could think of, you saw somewhere in the residence without it appearing gaudy. It was stunning, but…strangely gloomy. And just like the way Shangri-la was not you, you were a fish out of water here as well. The feeling only grew stronger the further you went. You scoffed at Alucard’s assertion that you belonged here, sorely missing the warm coziness of a home that was no longer yours.

As you toured the premises with Seras, it became apparent that there were way fewer servants of the kind you expected, the ones who would help run an estate of this size. Sure there were cleaners and workers in the kitchen and the manor was tasteful and clean. But oddly, it was soldiers who made up the bulk of the visible staff.

You and Seras passed another patrol as she showed you to your bedroom on the second floor.

--------------------

You bid her goodnight and sighed with relief when you were at last afforded the luxury of privacy.

Your jacket hung in an open closet. All your belongings were there in the room, packed into boxes in a neat corner. That was the entirety of it? Your possessions were certainly humble when juxtaposed into a room as spacious as this. After exploring your storage options, you began the tedious work of unpacking.

A wealth of information was delivered to you today. You were reeling from whiplash. Even if Alucard previously broached the topic of moving in, the abrupt relocation into this organization was overwhelming.

Your new ‘home’ was beautiful, yet…everything about it was dreadfully formal and you got the sense that this compound operated under a rigid hierarchy and set of rules.

This was no simple rich person's playground and getting used to this authoritarian setting was going to be beyond difficult. You tossed around in bed as your thoughts wandered. Did your place here depend entirely on Alucard and Integra’s favour? You knew your vampire would not allow you to be mistreated, yet you did not know your standing without Alucard by your side nor what was expected of you. What would become of you?

They said it would be easier if you slowly transitioned to a nocturnal lifestyle if you were to live here, but you were exhausted by everything you saw. As you rolled into the soft satin sheets to try and sleep, you sighed. The opulence that was present even in your new bedroom was entirely foreign.

Everywhere you went, the people you encountered were pleasant, but the stares and whispers followed closely on your tails. They knew. Everyone knew you came with Alucard and of the sudden delivery of a stranger’s belongings before you were brought here. And guessing your relationship was no challenge.

You had barely seen Alucard since you arrived. Instead you were escorted from one oversized room to the next as Seras stuffed your head with random facts you’d need to know. As you were thrown flailing headfirst into the world of the supernatural (which you didn’t wholly ask for), the simmering doubt bubbled into a seething boil.

They said Alucard stayed in the basement. Some familiarity would be much appreciated right now. Would you be in trouble? You wanted to see him more than anything to know that everything will be okay. To sit in his lap and stare into the sunset as he soothed away your fears with the lull in his words and gentle touch.

You stayed on your toes to muffle unnecessary noise as you slipped out of your room and traced your path back to a hidden entrance in an unassuming hallway, which was where Seras told you he stayed during your tour.

With careful hands, you pulled at the door, which didn’t budge until you put your weight behind it and yanked. You winced at the unoiled creak that groaned louder than thunder in the silence.

It was a staircase.

You saw only as far as four steps down before it became pitch black. You walked in anyways and closed the door behind you so no one would be privy to you sneaking around.

You couldn't see anything. There was no moonlight or wall lights. Just the nothingness that swallowed you whole as you shut yourself in.

Alucard. You called him.

No reply.

He must be here. His signature was ubiquitous, a welcome oppression that gave density to the air you inhaled. You felt around blindly, and softly, softly, in the shadows, one tentative step at a time, you made it to the bottom of the stairs while remaining close to the wall. Your fingers brushed a plaque and you traced the letters tentatively.

...T-O-R…TORTURE?

Surely that must be wrong. Unease rippled through your mind as you gulped. You hugged yourself and rubbed your ears. Without the whisper of your steps, the silence became deafening as well. With nothing to see or hear, you stood alone in a void, but he was here. You knew it in your soul.

You stayed put to try letting your eyes adjust to the lack of light, but even that was hopeless. You couldn’t even differentiate if your eyes were open or closed. This was the kind of place where spidery demons of legend ambush their prey from the shadows. There was an almost imperceptible draft blowing past you and the air felt wet. Your nose curled with revulsion as you imagined what this place must look like.

The darkness and silence and moldy dampness gave you the creeps, but this was his lair. Monsters and whatnot may lurk in this world, but the scariest of them all…was your lover. You were invincible here. Nothing could harm you.

You let out an audible breath to remind yourself that you have only temporarily lost your senses. Sightless, you kept shuffling along, staying close to the walls to help guide your way. Whether this place was cramped, you could not tell, not even if it was a hallway or an open cavern. Your flesh prickled into chicken skin from the eeriness.

While everyone else stayed in the lavish manor above, Alucard lived here?

Minor interactions from the day welled up and you recounted how uneasy others were around him. Were you once the same? Realization dawned and your chest squeezed tight. He gave his services to this organization, but they treated him like…a monster to be caged, ostracized, and feared. Your lips pressed together in a taut line as you picked up the pace to rush to your vampire.

You ran out of wall to follow. You must have arrived at a turn. Or it could be a wall ending within a spacious room.

Alucard? You reached for him in your mind.

Still he did not answer. You stumbled over your feet and dithered where you were. Perhaps coming here uninvited was a bad idea, but before you could decide which direction to walk next, you heard him.

This is no place for a sweet human like yourself. Turn back.

"Why bring me all the way here only to turn me away now?"

Speaking out loud was equivalent to screaming into the abyss, shattering the engulfing silence. It reverberated and your words echoed off into the distance for you to voice your question over and over. "You invited me to live with you. I came to Hellsing for you. I chose to be here with you."

A pregnant pause after your words faded. When there was nothing for several more moments and you were about to march forward blindly anyways, he answered.

Very well. Come to me, he whispered.

Alucard lit the way. Hundreds of thousands of eyes opened along the stones, guiding the path to him. You now saw you were in a long corridor, the end of which was not visible.

You followed his macabre lead, feeling his pull more as you neared, a tyrannical energy that grew more potent with each step. The blanket of power was so welcome.

He had such a flair for theatrics. He could just come out and greet you like a good host. Chuckling bounced around your head.

There is no fun in that, little one.

You snorted, but sobered up as you studied your newly visible surroundings. The basement was not yet finished. It was bleak and indeed dank with mildew. Something dripped in the distance.

Alucard lives here? This was no home. This repugnant hole in the ground was more like…a dungeon.

”How unseemly for a lady to come seeking a monster’s company at night,” the vampire murmured, pressing behind your back with his hands wrapped around your waist. You gasped at the unexpected presence, then sighed in relief and leaned back into him.

"You aren't a monster," you said softly while reaching back to pull him against you by the thighs. It was true that you hadn’t truly thought of him as one in a very long time. His chest rumbled from purring as he nuzzled into the side of your head. “Your home is so lonely.” You pushed your forehead to his as he continued to nudge against you, closing your eyes to breathe him in as a wave of sadness washed over your senses.

As you basked in his solid presence behind you, the darkness lost its foreboding. You were now wrapped in the safe blanket of night. His darkness, which hid and protected you, unweaved the intricate web ensnaring you with fear. He disappeared as you made your way into a clearing, but your fright was already banished. Knowing Alucard was right here with you gave you peace of mind.

Meagre torches came on one by one and you followed the garish light that made you squint. Everywhere your eyes fell, empty blood bags were illuminated by each consecutive lamp alighting, leading to a massive throne that occupied the middle of the room. There Alucard sat in solitude with his chin on a fist. Blood splattered the floor where the drained packets lay.

“I have been famished lately,” he rumbled, his bangs shielding one gleaming eye from view.

“What’s new? Do you always gorge yourself like this? Such a messy eater.” You replied with a cringe, then looked away from the littered floor. “I couldn't sleep, so I decided to pay you a visit.”

The King smiled a toothy grin and extended a hand to you. “Come here, little one.”

Tiptoeing gingerly around the blood sacks, you reached the King, who pulled you into his lap. As you leaned against him, your tension from the day melted away from the physical contact and you yawned.

You lay your head on Alucard’s shoulder, then peered up at him through lidded eyes.

“A lot of things happened today,” you mumbled.

“...”

“I was shown so many rooms and told so many things, I doubt I’d even remember all of it, especially the arbitrary rules. I’m sure I’d get lost though.”

“...”

“There’s a hallway with these classical paintings, the ones with the fancy gold frames. They look like they might be originals! It was really weird how they were all just a bit tilted though. Is that something rich people just do for rich people's reasons?”

You were rambling. He must already know the random trivia when it came to this mansion, but you continued to blab about the various things you were shown in the Hellsing manor as your lover quietly listened to you unload. Your heart quivered, the stress from the move at last catching up.

"...Why me, Alucard?" You whispered against his chest as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

"You are a fool if you must ask."

He plucked you from his lap and took you through another room, where you spotted a palatial bed to the side, fit for a king, but he brought you to his coffin instead. It was an enormous wooden box, glossy black with engraving that you couldn’t discern in the poor lighting. The lid floated off by itself and you peeked inside.

It looked like a velvet mattress padded with cushioning on the sides. If it weren’t for the knowledge that it was a coffin, it wouldn’t be too bizarre at all. You glanced over and saw Alucard looking at you as if he was waiting for you to freak out. You got in instead.

It was surprisingly spacious inside, until Alucard joined and crowded you. Clearly these were made for single occupation! The lid closed and darkness engulfed you. This was supposed to be creepy, but you found yourself remarkably unbothered as the vampire rearranged the two of you until he was under you with the silken fabric of his cravat against your face.

No heartbeat. The dead silence of his chest was well-known to you. Up so close to the one you wanted most the entire time you were here, you began to drift.

That you braved the dark to seek him for comfort gave Alucard great pleasure. Now locked in with him, there was no way to escape the coffin unless he allowed it. He let his mind wander. A balm to his battered soul, that was what you were.

“My Darling, if there ever comes a time you are in danger and I am absent, hide in this coffin. It will provide you with some measure of protection.”

You mumbled something in reply and burrowed into him, but your vampire wasn’t ready to let you fade away.

His hands roamed your body, his erection pressed taut against your stomach. He dragged you up by the armpits as you squealed until his lips met yours. Smooth lips tugged at you and you groggily let him in, distantly wondering what you would do if copper filled his mouth.

It didn’t. He tasted, as always, of vintage wine, and you melted into him with the yearning of a day spilling over. Suckling his tongue, you shyly brought his hands from your back to your chest and pressed his fingertips into the fat pads there. He was happy to massage you, making you squirm when he rolled and pinched your peaks.

Through a closed-eye grin, you giggled, "You’re freezing, but I'll keep you warm when you sleep from now on."

The vampire's cock twitched. Vibrant orangey-yellow irises narrowed slightly before swirling with affection as he squeezed you to his chest with extra limbs.

You slipped towards sleep with a smile on your face. At last, while you lay in a cramped wooden box underground on top of a living corpse, you were comfortable to be where you were.

--------------------

Pain.

You gasped. The shocking sensation seared your nerves, yet you found it impossible to remove yourself from the terrible feeling. It passed immediately as the pain numbed, then melded into pleasure unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Your mind went blank as another wave rolled through simultaneously with a distant pull at your neck. Have you gone mad? If people abused drugs for ecstasy such as this, you too would go delirious from addiction.

Blood feeds blood.

Your body jolted feebly under a weight that would not give way, forcing you to remain immobile and endure the electrified sparks up your spine.

Alucard.

His teeth sank deep into your throat as he took that lengthy drag. Your essence funnelled into him while you spun, intoxicated from desire.

Blood calls blood.

Excruciatingly enticing.

You tilted your head to grant him access to your soul.

Blood is, and blood was,

You didn’t even wince this time as slick pooled from blazing loins and your back arched. More. You needed more.

He was inside you. Thick and delicious and somehow you were accommodating him despite his immense size, the siren-song of his whispers in your ears, rending your existence apart with sultry thoughts and promises of eternity.

And blood shall ever be.

He was pounding you into the plush cushions of a coffin. Making you whole. An angel found her wings.

Daughter of the Night.

Pain and pleasure were the same. Coherent thought escaped as you became one. The only certainty was that this was meant to be–

--------------------

The Bird of Hermes is My Name

Eating My Wings to Keep Me Tame

You woke with a start panting, sweat clinging to your brows and soaking your back. You were indeed lying on plush cushions and still inside the coffin with your crotch soaked in juice. There was suddenly so much room?

No, you were not alone. Alucard was on top of you as a weighted blanket of shadow. His hand was tight on your mound.

"Such indelicate fantasies you hold, my Dear."

You may have been in absolute darkness, but you heard the smirk in his voice. A giant eye opened, hovering where you assumed the coffin’s lid was, examining you with a wild gaze as invisible hands palmed your body. Your sopping pussy throbbed as she recalled the dream.

"Ha! As if! You put those delusions in my head!"

The vampire chuckled at the retort.

It felt so real. You could almost feel his phantom teeth in your vein and your lifeblood leaving the warm confines of your vessel to mingle with his. You could almost feel him moving through you, filling you. You shuddered with craving for that completeness again.

But what was that?

You grasped through the haze searching for something you didn't know. All you had were fragments of a barely remembered dream that made no sense.

The coffin lid lifted and you drank in the new air.

His shadow rippled and slid around you as if he was your sleeping bag. “Perhaps I went too far. Back to sleep, Dear. There are long days ahead of you.”

You chucked it down to Alucard being Alucard and putting strange ideas in your mind. His eye was so red and lustrous, almost like a prized ruby, though it shimmered even without light. You shifted however much you could and relaxed. It really had been a long day and night. You were so drained, you knew you would fall asleep the moment your eyes closed. Your confusion dissipated as you settled and it was apparent you could barely move in his embrace.

Alucard wrapped you snugly. Reassuringly.

For the first time since coming to Hellsing, you felt a sense of belonging within the claustrophobic confines of a vampire's coffin, something akin to being at home.

You slept like a newborn until midday.

Yours.

~To Be Continued~

Next chapter: Just Another Day in Paradise -------------------- Notes: (Please read)

A modified version of this chapter (with a sort of “happily ever after”) was originally intended to be the end of this story. But after a reader asked about whether Millennium will feature, I think yes, since the relationship between Alucard and his Reader would be incomplete without delving into some of Hellsing’s enemies. And so this fic continues again haha.

Now that we will be covering canon events and the main cast is finally featured, I’m honestly full of trepidation. Whereas when it was only Alu and Reader, I felt I was allowed to do whatever I wanted (to some extent). With Millennium coming into the picture also brings the issue of handling triggering/sensitive content. I am super scared I’ll screw up the story from here on out. There is an outline for most of the upcoming chapters, but the story will not be fully canon-compliant. Rather, it will only be inspired by canon events and I will take some liberties with how vampire things work.

But know that the story gets darker and the rating will change to “Explicit” (possibly even DD:DNE due to the chapters with Millennium). Please heed the tags and warnings when the time comes.

I hope you guys don’t mind the references to other popular media and works, of which there are a number throughout this fanfic. Fantasy is my favourite genre and my favourite author (Brandon Sanderson) loves to incorporate references to his other books within his epic fantasy world, where all of the different planets are linked by common origins, magic principles (even if the magic systems themselves differ), and an unseen war between their gods spanning millennia. The storylines and characters are starting to collide in Sanderson’s “Cosmere.” Whenever I spot some of these ‘Easter eggs,’ I feel so self-satisfied and like I’m such a good fan. I hope you smile too if you see one of my references to a song/movie/novel/play/anime/musical/etc.

P.S. You sweet summer child. You don’t bring up “human rights” with Vlad the Impaler :D

#alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard hellsing #alucard fanfiction #alucard #hellsing alucard #hellsing ultimate #my comfort vampire #vampire romance #hellsing ova #hellsing fanfiction #hellsing fandom

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