#it really feels like I’m simply not allowed to ever meet the right person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fire-emblem-drabbles · 6 months

Text

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I litterally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them!

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in those eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walk away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed, but your actions didn’t; you didn’t let him use your eyes to copy his scars. You couldn’t.

All for him to walk away.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, actually. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hell, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

You think, right now, it’s night. Your candle’s are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment.

You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. And maybe even get back on the path to save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding.

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.”

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. Your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him… “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with something sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours. You realize that even if he is so close… Astarion hesitates to touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized… maybe this was for the better.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands.

All you can do in that moment is cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. Of course, the last time he walked away from you he didn’t return…

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, trusting Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, taking the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair,” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let his work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely to your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He truly was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion let you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watched as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. With the morning light, they could only stare at one another a moment.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turned from Karlach, and brushed some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shaodowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkable polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 x reader #just... thinking about how alone and afriad he would feel after that #made me kind of insane

1K notes · View notes

koimethehorizon · 7 months

Text

Adventure Time and Fionna and Cake Theory: The Victimhood of Simon + How the Series Might End

Prerequisite Watching for this Theory:

Adventure Time: Temple of Mars, Betty, Come Along With Me, Broke His Crown, I Remember You, Holly Jolly Secrets Part II

Gonna start this loaded theory with a bit of a hot take. I’ve never liked how Simon and Betty’s stories concluded in Come Along With Me.

For Simon, I’ve always had trouble considering Simon and the Ice King as the same person. Holly Jolly Secrets and I Remember You, the pinnacle of depicting the dichotomy of the two characters is built on us seeing Simon as suffering irreversible memory loss and how his loved ones can grow to accept that. The context is most apt when viewed as a metaphor for dementia, Alzheimer’s, or simply old age.

The scenes in which Ice King reacts so superfluously to characters desperately wishing for his old self to return are striking because of the cruel finality of his condition. Alternatively, the ones in which his loved ones hang around with him despite his condition are sweet in their own right.

One of my favorite Ice King scenes is in Broke His Crown where Marceline invites her girlfriend to meet her surrogate father.

Bubblegum: What's this?

Ice King: It's a present, to bribe you for coming over!

Marceline: You don't have to bribe us silly, we're here because we WANT to hang out with you.

Ice King: No one has ever said that to me before.

*snatches present*

Ice King: You didn't say no takebacks.

There was a real poignancy to depicting an old man with memory-loss slowly having people come to accept him and realize that he’s still a swell guy to hang around. It may be depressing to see this good person who was once so unconditionally caring into a buffoon who could forget your name so easily and turn on you in the flip of a coin.

But even he deserved love from others. And in time, as a result of that love, he did improve.

Which is why, even in Fionna and Cake, I find myself still disturbed seeing Simon in his normal state and Ice King completely erased from Ooo. It kills me that Betty and in extension, the show itself could not accept Ice King as he was and felt that his best course was to undo it all.

All of his experiences for 1000+ years all of a sudden no longer matter, and the acceptance of his peers no longer mattered as well. He's just back to who he used to be in a world where everything he's known is gone.

Happily ever after

Even worse, however, is remembering the wish that allowed Simon to be cured. The person who sacrificed her individuality to get that good person back, because she couldn’t accept reality as it was.

And I’m going to put a second hot take. A spicy one. Simon needs to take the fault in Betty's fate and Fionna and Cake (the show not the characters) seems aware of this.

Throughout Adventure Time, Simon Petrikov was never developed as a character. As far as the audience and the characters within Adventure Time knew, the only traits about Simon that mattered were: that he was intelligent, he was a kind man, and he loved Betty.

This wouldn’t really be a compelling character on its own, but when juxtaposed with the Ice King it’s a tragedy that he lost these traits. The compelling part of Simon was his victimhood to the ice crown and not really him as a person.

It’s why Obsidian’s version of Simon feels somewhat empty, he’s back to his intelligent, kind self but there’s no real hints to how he’s mentally adjusting other than that brief glimpse in Ice King’s robes again.

And he looks really weird in this special too. Color me surprised when Simon Petrikov reads out the problems I've had for years about his ending while also making Simon into his own person. In many ways it just completely redos what we see of him in Obsidian.

He's still a kind man but even he can't handle being so maladjusted to a world so beyond his time. He's still intelligent but his passions aren't reciprocated, and that seems to have always been the case even in the past. Rather than a guy who doesn't take shit from guys like Marceline's ex or a first responder to his daughter's problems, he's a normal guy unable to handle the threats of Ooo's world even after 12 years of living in it. Rather than singing to large communities in bliss, he's a lonely alcoholic who can't even relate to his fellow humans anymore. He loves his adopted daughter but there are even some days he can't muster the courage to be honest with her. And most importantly, he doesn't seem to know how to live beyond his curse or his loneliness.

His mutual obsession with Betty is the only character trait of his that's ever had some distinct flaw and with this new show, the writers must have finally found a way to tackle the subject further. Betty is ultimately a greater victim than Simon. She ends up in a far worse fate than Simon has ever been in. Perhaps more disturbingly, she willingly chose to strip herself of her individuality.

Fionna and Cake brings a contradiction to light about Simon and Betty’s seemingly perfect relationship. Simon and Betty's love is real and they do make each other happy. But there does exist a co-dependency that has worsened throughout the series as a result of their insecurity of letting a bad memory conclude their relationship. Betty's patterns are pretty clear throughout her tenure as Magic Woman but not too much with Simon. Not until now.

In Jerry, Simon stops Betty from pursuing her dreams because he didn’t want her goodbye to be his last memory with her.

In Betty, Simon rewrites history and inadvertently summons her to Ooo because he didn’t want Betty’s look of contempt to be his last memory of her.

And through all of Fionna and Cake, Simon has turned into a suicidal man willing to resummon GOLBetty regardless of the reasons she can’t see him again. All because he didn’t want her sacrifice to be his last memory of her. Despite the fact that Betty’s final wish was to keep Simon safe.

There's also this uneven power dynamic between the two. Simon was far more accomplished as a professor with PhDs even if no one took him seriously. Betty was just a student offering some help, knowing she wouldn't take any credit for helping.

I’ll preface that Betty is a consenting adult in the relationship and made many self-determined rash choices that Simon would never approve of with full context. We’ve enough scenes to show that Simon actively refuses Betty’s help if it means endangering her.

However, Simon’s perception of Betty and his own inadequacy did influence her personality for the worse. Fionna questions Simon on two occasions about how strange it was for “someone she just met to drop everything to go with you”. Even within the flashbacks Betty verbally describes her internal conflict between her individuality vs. her infatuation with Simon and the guy never picks up on it.

Whether he’s aware of it or not, Simon always ends up becoming the center of attention during Betty’s greatest life-changing events because he’s always suffering in some way. And sadly in-character, Betty always prioritizes him first because of how sorry she feels for him.

Simon: Just hold my hand to your face, this will be my… last sensation.

Betty: Don’t be a wimp, Simon!

I don’t want to be too hard on Simon, his suffering is cosmologically depressing. An undeniable tragedy that no one deserves to be alone on. It would be unfair to say he’s being dramatic about something most if not any human would ever go through. He’s not a leech for desiring help, especially from his significant other.

But I do think it’s important to point out that he does have a major flaw in not reflecting on the consequences of Betty’s choices.

Fionna: Damn, that’s romantic. So, you got on the bus with her?

Simon: Yup. Uh what? No. No. Why would I-

This is the reason this post exists. This is the show explicitly telling us that Simon has never really thought about what Betty lost because he thinks his love was greater than the passion Betty once had.

Let's go back to Betty once again for what is honestly the most justifiable takedown you could make of Simon's character prior to the miniseries.

As stated earlier, Simon opens a portal to ask for Betty's forgiveness with a few seconds on the clock. And in that time, he essentially just unloads a giant drama bomb, trauma dump of his suffering leading Betty to ask what she can even do without him. And if the plan went as it was, Simon would've just left her a hundred questions that she'd never have answered for the rest of her life.

Simon: Just know that I love you and I forgive you for leaving me. Author's Note: I dunno, isn't there something a bit off about how he worded this?

Now Simon didn't ask for Betty to jump into the portal, but he certainly was asking for it subconsciously. How else would he have expected a person who loves him dearly to act after this?

Taking any measures necessary and finding a way back together obviously. That's what he's doing too!

And reiterating again, this is the reason why Betty goes on her ego-suicidal quest. This is Simon's greatest mistake, his greatest moral failing as a person and he doesn't seem aware of this.

He’s not wrong that Betty lived happily with him. In spite of losing her dreams, Betty and Simon did love each other unconditionally. But he’s missing the bigger picture about how he could’ve been self-centered in deciding Betty’s fate for himself.

And maybe to stretch somewhat, I think even the quest to become Ice King again is somewhat motivated by his inability to live as anything more than a victim. Some of it is because the citizens of Ooo were being a bit inconsiderate about how much they liked Ice King yes, but Simon should be perfectly aware that Marceline, Betty, and now Fionna would be extremely concerned about him for doing this. Yet, he doesn’t really consider their feelings too much on the matter. He’s too used to the suffering.

Please have one scene with Marceline, I'd be sad if we don't get to see at least one.

This leads me to how I believe Fionna and Cake may rewrite Simon’s ending.

The key is in the episode Temple of Mars.

Upon rewatching the episode, I’m convinced that the Adventure Time cast had a greater plan with the Betty and Simon arc that just never came to be due to production constraints. A lot of Betty’s history and the deconstruction of her relationship with Simon in Jerry are surprisingly details that have already been told.

I thought it was an animation error that Betty’s glasses were different in Jerry but it turns out the continuity director is just that good.

The trip in six months, Simon stopping her, and the realization that Simon superseded her identity. Seeking independence from Simon is the lesson that Normal Man was trying failed to teach her.

Betty: I’ve spent so much time dedicated on Simon that I’m not even sure if there’s any “me” left anymore.

But the most telling detail is how Betty passes Normal Man’s test.

Finn: Even if you are a lost cause, she is not!

Betty: No, Finn’s right. You’ll thank me for this later past Betty.

In an alternate pocket reality, she changes her trip to the day before, preventing Simon from stopping her. And I think Simon will have to change fate once again to do the same.

If Simon comes to realize that he was the one who set Betty to her terrible fate, that all this time his rose-colored lens of their relationship had been detrimental then he could give her identity back. But it can’t be as simple as changing the moment Betty turns into GOLB or Magic Woman or even bringing her through the portal in Betty.

He needs to let Betty go on the bus. Alone.

It’s the only way for Betty to have her life back. If not for his Betty, maybe at least to save one in the multiverse doomed to the same fate.

They both need to cherish their time on the Enchiridion trip back when it wasn’t too late for Betty to go on the trip. Back when they were both equals and not tied to Simon’s needs.

Jerry is absolutely setting up something big with Simon and Betty’s relationship for next week and now that we’re going to the GOLB dimension, we’ll see how he remembers these moments again.

Personally, as someone who has been skeptical about Simon's peace for years, Fionna and Cake's second episode was like a sigh of relief. Simon hasn't found his ending yet, and my hope is that this epilogue will help me see the man happy without having to relive Betty's sacrifice for the rest of his life. Just like the rest of Adventure Time, it'll have to end with him cherishing the time he had with Betty regardless of the inevitability of losing that relationship.

PS. Isn’t quite strange that at one point in time, Simon sought after magic objects that ostracized him from the normal world and now, he lives in a house full of 1980s-1990s objects that ostracized him from the magical world? Maybe he was never really satisfied with where he was in the present.

PSS. I really wanted to write something on Fionna for the Ep 3-6 releases, and I still have the idea, but I couldn’t make it coherent due to how much my brain overthinks everything to the point of cognitive collapse. If there’s enough interest, I’ll go back to write it again.

#fionna and cake #adventure time #simon petrikov #betty grof #fionna and cake spoilers #adventure time spoilers #animation #art #hbo max #fionna campbell #theories #character analysis #discussion #petrigrof #golbetty #simon and betty

531 notes · View notes

phxntomsdusk · 4 months

Text

My forever - Will x GN!Reader

summary: you never planned on falling for your best friend, but you don’t regret it<3

warnings: none<3

tags: @ax-y10 (ask to be added)

word count: 2k

You and Wilbur had been friends forever. Meeting in primary school, and clicking almost instantly. Nobody could separate you two even if they tried, you were glued at the hip.

Of course, challenges came along the way. Friend group fallouts, family problems, summertime depression, etc. but you two always had each other, no matter what. And of course, with every cliche friendship, feelings got involved.

It started with the simple questions you received in the hallways. “Are you dating?” “Are you two a thing?” It was a constant reminder that everyone would assume you and him were together, even if you were just really close.

But it made you question yourself, could you ever date him? You always said he was your other half, the person you could always go to. You would never discuss it with him, it was saved for your journal to rant and curse out all of your emotions and thoughts.

You didn’t know Wilbur was doing the same thing, questioning himself every time he caught himself staring at you got a bit too long. How could he not stare? He was best friends with the most beautiful person he had ever met. But of course, he didn’t dare make a move.

Eventually, it became obvious to your friends that the two of you had a thing for one another, and they came up with a plan that just had to work.

Every weekend everyone would meet at your friend Chris’s treehouse, but this time, they would all find a way to leave you two alone with the lingering topic left for you to discuss.

“Hey, guys!” Your friend Kelly smiled widely at you and Will, helping you get inside the treehouse door and allowing you to sit on the small makeshift couch in the corner. Will joined after you, taking his spot right next to yours, and wrapping an arm over your shoulder like he always did. “Graduation is, like, a few weeks away. That’s insane.”

Your attention was brought to Chris, nodding at his words. “I know, right? We’ve all known each other for nearly 10 years at this point. We’re so old.” You earned a laugh from Will before he spoke up and leaned forward, moving his arm around your back. “Exactly. We’ll all be heading off to uni in a few months too, well, maybe not Zach.”

Your friend, Zach, let out an offended gasp. He was known as the dumbest one in your group, mostly because he had failed all of his classes through all of high school, yet somehow passed the year. “I definitely will get into uni! I’m going to Harvard.” He scowled at Will, earning an even louder laugh from him.

“As if, you’d be better off getting a job as a janitor for Harvard,” Chris spoke up with a teasing smile, before looking over at you and Will with a knowing look. “Guys, when do you think we’ll all get married?”

The question struck you with confusion. Why would he be talking about marriage? He didn’t even have a girlfriend, let alone someone to marry. “Why do you ask? I mean, I’d hope to get married by around 25, I don’t wanna be in my 30’s.” You shrugged and leaned back into Will’s hold, watching as he nodded in agreement.

“25 is a good age. But with the way I want to get into music, I may be touring by then. I’m telling you now, I’m gonna be famous.” He smiled and looked down at you, running his hand up and down your arm. “I bet Will and Y/N will get hitched by 21,” Kelly spoke up with a grin, giggling under her breath.

It took you back, both you and Will. Did they all think you were dating too? Sure, you were being touchy, but this was how your friendship worked. But they thought you would get together?

“Me and Y/N? Are you crazy?” Will’s words slightly hurt, earning a frown from you as you simply nodded. “Maybe not crazy. Just delusional.” You smiled at him, sitting up and resting your head against the back of the ‘couch’.

Chirs and Zach looked at each other with the same knowing look, before announcing they had to leave for a moment. You were confused as they got up, climbed down the ladder, and rushed inside of Chris’s house. Kelly soon joined them, leaving you and Will all alone.

The silence was eating at you, wanting to speak up and say something, but not knowing what to say. Until he spoke up for you.

“Could you see a future with me?” He looked at you with a curious and hopeful expression, almost as if he wanted you to say yes. You had never thought of it before, but now that you were, you definitely could. “I mean, yeah. Can you?” He thought for a moment, smiling and nodding at you. “Yeah. I can.”

The two of you sat in silence for a bit longer, simply smiling at yourselves. “Wanna go on a date? To try and test it out, maybe?” You looked back at him, a light blush on both of your faces. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

It was settled. You and Wilbur were attempting a date.

About a week had passed, and it was nerve-racking, you didn’t want to get too dressed up or be too underdressed. Should you do your hair? Makeup? Wear special jewelry? Would he even notice? He was taking you to the movies, why did any of this matter so much to you?

You settled on a simple band t-shirt, jeans, converse, and a necklace he had gifted you on a previous birthday of yours. It was a simple yet good enough outfit for a date.

He picked you up at around 6 pm, he always said nighttime movies were the best, and he wasn’t wrong at all. You were going to see Spider-Man, his choice of course. You were lucky he had enough cash on him to get popcorn and some drinks, even getting you a box of your favorite candy, because who doesn’t love overpriced candy?

“I never thought I’d be taking my best friend on a date. Especially one of the most cliche dates in history.” He spoke as you two entered the theater, sitting towards the back and getting comfy. “Me neither. I bet our friends are happy.” You smiled at him, taking a bit of the popcorn from the hun he held. “Oh. Before I picked you up Chris called me and gave me tips on how to kiss.”

The simple comment made your cheeks flush for a second, Chris expected you two to kiss? It wasn’t like you’ve never kissed anyone, you just never kissed someone this close to you. “Really? He’s a huge dreamer. I swear his dreams are more unrealistic than Zach getting into Harvard.”

Will laughed at your comment, and you noticed how pretty he seemed to truly be. The ways the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled, the way his dimples would become extra visible whenever he smiled at you. Were you falling for him?

“You’re staring.” He commented quietly before his attention was brought to the lights being shut off and the intro playing for the movie. He wasn’t wrong, you had been staring. “No, I wasn’t.” Denial was the best plan at this point.

It was silent for the most part, besides the movie, but there was an awkward tension between you two. It was like you knew something but wouldn’t tell the other.

Your eyes were locked on the screen, occasionally laughing or commenting on a scene, but mostly sitting in silence. Until he spoke up.

“Wanna head to our spot after this?” He looked at you with a smile, one that somehow made your heart melt. By his spot he meant the parking garage at your local mall, the top had been blocked off due to the concrete beginning to give out in certain areas. “Yeah, I’m down.”

And of course, that’s where you went. The two of you sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the darkening sky as you spoke about anything and everything.

“Do you ever think the stars could, maybe, help find your soulmate?” He blurted out randomly, followed by a laugh. “Like, when you meet your soulmate, imagine if you saw your initials in the stars. That would be so cool!” You simply laughed along with him, shaking your head at his behavior. “You’re so weird.”

A comfortable silence fell on the both of you, you hadn’t even noticed he started to stare at you. It wasn’t weird or creepy, it was comforting and sweet. His gaze was soft, one of his hands gently grabbing ahold of yours. You moved your head to look over at him, meeting his gaze and smiling lightly.

There was a feeling between you two, you both felt it. But it wasn’t foreign, it had been the same feeling you’d developed over the last 10 years of knowing him. You two were in love with each other and didn’t even realize it.

“I think I need to be honest with you.” His words were quiet, and he adjusted his posture for a second and sat up. “Y/N, I think I’m in love with you.” He looked at you with a worried yet hopeful look, almost like he wanted you to say the same.

Did you feel the same? Well, he was almost always the first thought when you woke up. You would fall asleep on a call with him, making sure he was the last person you spoke to before sleeping. Maybe you did love him.

“I think I love you too.” Your voice was equally quiet, the two of you sharing a knowing look before he slowly leaned in and gently kissed you. It only lasted a few moments, but it was still meaningful. “Did Chris’s advice pay off?” He spoke in a joking tone, earning a laugh and nod from you. “Definitely.”

One week. One entire week since you two kissed.

Today was graduation day, you had barely seen him during the week of your schedules not lining up. Your cap and gown paired nicely with your outfit somehow, a smile on your face the entire day.

The ceremony was short and sweet, at least when you weren’t paying attention. Hearing your name be announced, earning your diploma, getting that final handshake. It was unbelievable. You were practically on autopilot during the entire thing.

It wasn’t very memorable until it was over. Everyone meets up with their family and friends afterward, getting congratulated for making it through the entire year. And then you spotted him.

Will was stood off to the side, awkwardly messing with his cap string before looking up to meet your gaze. A wide smile appeared on his featured, rushing over to wrap his arms around you.

“Y/N! I’m so proud of you.” He smiled widely at you, before pulling you into a sweet kiss. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, smiling into his kiss for a moment until the two of you parted. “I’m proud of you too, Will.” You two didn’t bother to even find your families, simply basking in each other's arms at the moment.

He continued to admire you, placing a hand on the side of your face and running his thumb over your cheekbone. “Can I say something kind of cheesy?” He smiled lightly, earning a nod from you.

“Y/N. I want you to be my forever.”

Your heart melted almost immediately at his words, letting out an audible ‘awe’ as you leaned up and hugged him closely. “You’re so cute.” You mumbled against his shoulder, smiling to yourself as you felt his arms firmly wrap around you.

“I mean it, I love you.” He whispered in your ear, planting a kiss on the side of your temple. He loved you, he did. You looked up at him with a lovesick expression, “I love you too, Will.”

#phxntomsdusk #phxntoms fics #wilbur soot #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader

278 notes · View notes

miryum · 1 year

Text

Sleepless in Monaco (Charles Leclerc x Reader) royal!AU

Hi! This is my first F1 fic so I hope you guys enjoy. I worked really hard on this and am pretty proud of it!

Warnings: Swearing, implications of sex, insomnia, nightmares, death, parents in the military, and any others I missed

Word Count: 10.4k

Disclaimer: I know nothing of how the monarchy works. Take my words about the inner monarchy with a grain of salt. I took the British monarchy and twisted it to fit my needs for this work of fiction, so all of this is highly unrealistic. For example, an heir cannot abdicate before the monarch’s death, but for the sake of this fic, in Monaco, they can. No other country has as strict coronations for their monarchs as Britain does, and even there it’s usually months after a monarch is dead, but I wanted to speed things up!

Also, all of these people are exactly that- their own person and I am simply using their names and faces for a story.

Enjoy!

Countless studies showed that sleep was necessary and the more you got, the better off you were. Still, you didn’t like going to sleep. It felt needlessly unproductive. The nights were bouts of insomnia, and if you were allowed to sleep, it was always riddled with nightmares.

The most frequent nightmare started off in a meadow of dead flowers. It lulled you into a false sense of security, although being surrounded by death left worried butterflies in your gut. It was then followed by falling. You weren’t sure what you fell into, but all you knew is that it must be bottomless. As the helplessness and impending doom reached a climax, you woke up.

As a child you could always run to your parents, but now, as an adult, you had no one to run to. You were alone.

Tonight was like every other. You had trouble going to sleep, and when you finally did, you fell. You fell into the bottomless pit surrounded by dead flowers. And then you woke. The clock read only 1:44. As if on cue, the phone rang. It was your burner phone and the number was easily recognizable.

“Hey Arthur,” you ran a hand over your tired eyes.

He asked immediately, “did I wake you?”

“You know me; I’m never asleep.”

“Ah yes,” the youngest Leclerc brother clicked his tongue. “We share the same crazy sleep schedule.”

“The one thing that brought us together.” It was true, of course. Your nights in the castle had been just as sleepless as ever, and it was one night when you were roaming the halls that you bumped into the small prince. You had dropped into a messy curtsy (you were still learning how- you were only five at the time) but Arthur had laughed and said whoever was up at that time of night didn’t need to bow to him. It had then become a tradition. Whenever one of you couldn’t sleep, they would find the other and the night would usually end passed out in front of a blaring TV screen with dripping bodies from a rendezvous at the indoor castle pool. Alas, as the two of you got older and you moved out of the castle for school, your late-night meetings turned to late-night phone calls.

“Did you ever go to sleep?” You ask. “You sound wide awake.”

“No, I did not,” Arthur drew out his words, awaiting your reprimanding. You were too tired to do so, however, and just rolled your eyes. “Hey, you’re on summer break, right?” He switched the subject, “I have a proposition for you.”

You groaned. “What is it? Do you have another girl I need to chase away?”

“Carla and I are going strong, thank you very much,” Arthur said. You could feel his drama through the phone.

“Then what is it?” Arthur stalled and a sinking feeling pulled over you. “Arthur,” you demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong!” He said quickly before pausing and letting the next words coat over you. “Lorenzo just abdicated the throne.”

“What?!” You worried you had woken your neighbours up, but the shock was too strong that you couldn’t refrain from yelling. “Why?!”

“He was fed up,” Arthur simply said. “He didn’t want to be a part of this life.”

“But Charles…” You couldn’t imagine what he was going through. His life had just been upended. He was always content with being second. Content with being a prince without having the responsibility of the throne on his shoulders. Now he had to toughen up and prepare to rule after his father. Unless he wanted to leave the throne to Arthur, and you knew he could never do that to his younger brother, Charles was stuck. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want you to come back to Monaco,” he said.

“Why?”

“I think it would be really helpful for Charles and I to have you around again,” Arthur explained. “You were always such a good friend and were able to handle and control our craziness. Charles could really use an anchor such as you. I could get a position on my staff so you would have income, but-”

“You don’t need to convince me,” you smiled softly. “I’ll always come back.”

“To Monaco or to the Leclerc’s?” Arthur teased you.

“Whichever needs me first,” you laughed.

“Fantastic.” Arthur was giddy at the prospect of seeing his best friend again. “The plane is already at your airport.”

“What?” You jumped out of bed and searched for your suitcase. “What if I had said no?”

“Come on, Y/n. It’s impossible for you to say no.”

As it turns out, the poor pilot had been waiting for over two hours, just at the prospect that a random girl might say yes to the prince’s pleas. You had apologised profusely to him before cracking open a book as you were flown to Monaco.

After you landed, you were shuttled to the castle in a black van that bore the flag of Monaco. The few pedestrians that were out in the early morning gawked at it, wondering what a member of the royal family was doing out this early, but you simply shielded away from the tinted windows. They would hear the news soon enough.

You had just opened your car door and were stepping onto the gravel driveway when Arthur burst out of the castle doors and greeted you with a tight hug.

“Geez, lemme get out of the car first!” But nonetheless, you squeezed him back. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s been too long,” he agreed. “You won’t believe all the shit that’s been happening.”

“I haven’t read any tabloids just so I could hear all the gossip from you,” you said, laughing.

“Good, because they’ve all fucked the story up.” Arthur didn’t laugh along. You frowned slightly and took your luggage from the valet. It must be serious.

Arthur walked you inside, taking your bags like the gentleman he was. He explained, “I’ll get you all caught up later, but I need to go talk to Lorenzo quickly. Charles is out exercising in the gardens. He’ll want to see you.”

“Do I have to act differently around him?” You ask, “is there any strict protocol when talking to the next-in-line?”

Arthur looked at you, face scrunched in bemusement. “It’s not like he’s grown a tail, Y/n. It’s just Charles. And you never acted differently around Lorenzo than you did I or Charles.”

“True,” you conceded.

You and Arthur parted ways and you marvelled at how quickly the layout of the castle came back to you. It had been so long since you were last here, but you remembered it like yesterday.

Your feet took you to the gardens, and like always, you were blown away at the serenity of it all. Rows of bushes and hedges of all different types of flowers and plants spun out around you, twisting and weaving like a dancer as far as the eye could see. You knew that at the centre of it all was a magnificent fountain and on the outskirts were rows of apple trees. Your favourite spot was a weeping willow next to a small pond that was fed by a brook. You remembered countless hours spent on a tire swing your dad had hooked up, playing and laughing with the princes.

A wistful melancholy grew over you, but instead of wallowing in the sadness of the past, you decided to rejoice in its happiness.

But you couldn’t deny that you had missed Monaco. And it’s people.

Speaking of which, a figure was making their way through the garden. You recognised the silhouette instantly. “Charles!” you yelled.

The running figure stopped for a moment, staring at you, before starting up again, spriting your way. “Y/n!” It was clear he had been on a run, wearing black shorts and an athletic white t-shirt. Working out was a way Charles relieved stress, and you had no doubt that he was under a lot of stress right now. Charles swept you up in a monstrous hug, clinging to you like a lifeboat on stormy water. Your feet dangled in the air for a moment before he gently set you down. But the hug didn’t stop. His head was buried into the crook of your neck. “I missed you so much,” he whispered and his breath sent goosebumps along your skin.

“I missed you too, Charlie.” Charles’ heart jumped at the childhood nickname. “Arthur called me and told me what happened.”

“Please don’t talk about it,” Charles muttered.

“Okay,” you hummed, just letting the poor boy embrace you. After a moment, you realised that the hug had exceeded the socially acceptable time for friends and cleared your throat. “Okay, sweaty-pants, you’re gross. Get off of me.” You pulled away and patted his chest.

“Why’d you come back? I thought you were off at school.” Charles looked at you with puppy-dog eyes. It made you melt.

“It’s summer break,” you shrugged.

“So you didn’t come back for me?” Charles pouted, even though both of you knew the real answer.

“Nah, I don’t care about you at all.” You shook your head. “I just came back for your brother.”

“Which one?!” Charles asked you as you stepped away. You laughed loudly and started walking back to the palace. “Which one?!” Charles shrieked, running after you.

“Your Majesties,” you cursitied lowly in front of Hervé and Pascale Leclerc.

Pascale rolled her eyes from her throne and smiled softly. “Y/n, please stop with the formalities. It’s a pleasure to have you back with us in Monaco.” Per tradition, you were thanking the King and Queen of Monaco for welcoming you back into the country. Charles and Arthur stood off to the side, Lorenzo nowhere to be found.

“And how are your Majesties faring?” you asked politely.

“Everything will turn out wonderfully,” Pascale said, although you knew you and her would be talking long into the night about the events that had transpired. “Are you staying with your brother, my dear?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “He recently bought a new home with his family and I don’t want to intrude.”

“Well then, you must stay with us!” Pascale beamed. “Did neither of my sons extend the invitation?”

“No, your Highness, they did not.” You grinned, knowing full well what was to come.

“Boys!” Pascale glared at her two youngest who cowered away from their mother’s sharp gaze.

“Mama!” Arthur whined in protest.

“Y/n is always welcome to stay with us. I expect you two to be on your best behaviour.” Arthur mumbled something to Charles that you couldn’t hear. The crown prince blushed and pushed Arthur away. “Isn’t that right, dear?” Pascale turned to her husband.

The king smiled kindly at you and whispered hoarsely, “always a pleasure to see you, sweetheart.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my King.” You bowed your head in acknowledgment and reverence. It was well known that King Hervé’s health had been diminishing the past few years. As his age increased, his intellect and memory decreased. Though whatever his conditions, you still treasured childhood memories of him laughing at your father’s jokes, picking you up to dance at royal balls, or, if time allowed it, coming to play with you and the princes.

“And I don’t want you working at all while you’re here,” Queen Pascale wagged her finger at you playfully. “You are on vacation. Don’t let Arthur rope you into being an aide.”

“I won’t, your Highness,” you snuck a glance at Arthur but instead locked eyes with Charles. He winked at you and you knew that someway or another he would rope you into some dirty work.

“How long are you staying?” King Hervé asked and you snapped back to him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you admitted. “School starts in September, but I could always postpone it for a semester.”

Charles cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Chérie, did you know that the castle could easily employ anyone of any talent and prestige? You must remember our tutor?”

“Charles, what are you suggesting?” Pascale lifted an eyebrow.

“All I’m saying,” Charles tried to look as innocent as possible. “Is that we haven’t seen Y/n for a while. If she wanted to, we could simply bring her schooling here. I’m sure her university would love it if they had an international student studying under the royal family.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what the boy was doing. “We’ll talk about it later,” Pascale assured him. “Y/n, come with me,” she smiled softly. “I’ll walk you to your room. As much as I love my boys, I can’t wait for a little girl time.”

She stood and glided down the steps. She held her arm out to you and you looped yours through it. “And may I just say,” you added, “I love your outfit.” She was wearing a light purple pantsuit with a skirt flaring out from the waist.

“Thank you so much, dear! I saw this dress the other day and it reminded me of you; you must try it.”

“Of course.” You and the Queen stayed in frequent contract, her sending you photos of cute outfits (she had sent you a picture of an adorable blouse last weekend) and updates of the boys (you were surprised she wasn’t the one to call you with the news of Lorenzo’s abdication) and you sent her memes and cute videos of pets you found on the Internet.

You were sure that if the princes or the Queen’s private secretary found out that you were constantly communicating, the former would be freaked out and shocked and the latter would be aghast. It was very un-queen-like to be texting pictures of baby ducks to a girl that was half her age. And what son wants their mother to be chatting with their friend?

Once you and the Queen left the throne room, you immediately asked, “how are things going? No one’s told me the whole story.”

Pascal sighed heavily, clearly burdened with things beyond her control. “I’ve seen it coming for a long time. Lorenzo has waged this battle for years within his mind, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.”

“I never knew him to be unhappy,” you said.

“That’s because no one ever saw him,” Pascale shrugged. “He was always hidden away, studying to be king. He never had a true childhood. Everything he did was scrutinised as people picked apart their future leader. He was only a child. He never wanted to let people down, but I believe the breaking point was last year when Hervé got terribly sick.”

You had heard about that. Arthur had called you in a frenzy, worrying himself into a spiral that you calmed him down from while you were miles away. Charles had called you much later that night and you two had engaged in quiet conversation about the affair.

“Lorenzo realised the full magnitude of the situation,” Pascale continued. “And he didn’t want it.” She simply stated the facts, knowing that Lorenzo was the only one who could explain the reasons behind his actions. “He called the whole family into the sitting room last night and informed us of his decision. It was released to the public this morning. Poor Fernando and Nico stayed up all night composing the perfect speech,” she said, referring to the palace communication advisors.

“And Charles?” you asked.

Pascale huffed and shook her head. “The boy is stupid,” she said bluntly. “He won’t take anyone’s advice and is pushing people away so he can cope on his own. That’s why Arthur brought you in.” She glanced at you, smirking slightly.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, come off it, dearie.” Pascale rolled her eyes. “We both know my son has a sweet spot for you. Do you remember when you were eight and Charles was having a tantrum over the tiniest of thing? He wouldn’t come down for dinner, but when you went up to his room and talked to him, he came right down after you, trailing at your heels like a lost puppy?”

You shook your head and ignored the blush coming to your cheeks. The Queen didn’t miss it. “All I’m saying,” she declared as you reached your temporary room (which happened to be right next to Charles and Arthur’s), “is that although your Arthur’s best friend, my middle son has taken quite a liking to you over the years.” She turned on her heel, leaving you to your thoughts. Over her shoulder, Queen Pascale called to you, “food for thought,” before disappearing around a corner.

“Charles! Come on!” Arthur was swimming laps in the lake on a blazing summer day. You waded next to him, trying to get used to the colder water. Lorenzo was taking a break from his studies and lounging on an inflatable tube.

“I’m coming! Give me a second!” A thirteen year old Charles was still tugging off his socks. “Oh, I forgot my swimsuit!”

“Dude, how?” Lorenzo laughed. His sunglasses sat comfortably on his face as he relaxed. “We’re swimming. You need a swim-suit.”

“I don’t know, this was an impulse decision!” Charles was right; during breakfast you’d off-handedly proposed the idea and it was readily accepted.

“Just use your underwear.” Arthur shrugged.

“Oh my gosh look at this little crab!” You gasped and held up your hands. A small crab danced its way over your cupped hands.

Charles shook his head wildly. “No! I’m not going to strip down to my underwear!”

“Charlie,” you glanced at him before turning your attention back to the crab. “You would be showing the same amount of skin as if you had your swimsuit. It’s fine!”

“But,” he hesitated. “I don’t know, it just seems so much more intimate.”

“We’ve all seen each other naked,” Arthur pointed out.

“We were six years old!” Charles blushed furiously.

“Then leave your shirt on,” you said. “But come in the water. It wouldn’t be any fun with you staying on the shore.” After a second thought, you added, “Please, Charles?” You gave him a look you knew he couldn’t resist. You had the boys wrapped around your finger.

“Fine,” Charles smiled as your grin grew at his response. He could never stand to see you sad, especially if it was his doing. “But when we get out, I am stealing an extra towel.”

When the four of you were finished swimming, Charles stole Arthur’s towel and the latter dripped water all over the castle carpets. The cleaning crew was not happy.

“Hey, Charles?” You knocked on his door softly. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he replied. You opened the door to see him slouched in a chair before his desk. It was littered with papers and textbooks. Charles looked more tired than ever and you were worried that he hadn’t slept last night. Granted, you couldn’t chastise him for it. You were up worrying as well.

“What’re you doing?” You came to stand behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, peering at the documents splayed before him.

Charles leaned into your touch, his heart fluttering. He had missed you so much. He wasn’t about to derive himself of your comfort. “I’ve been trying to catch up on the years of studying Lorenzo had. Turns out there’s books on foreign policy and economics he had decades to read. I only have a couple months.”

“What about your father?” you asked, “He’s doing well, no?”

Charles tilted his head back to look at you and lifted a brow. “Come on, Y/n. You’re not naive. Maman knows she’ll have to plan his funeral soon. I only thought I would be watching my brother pledge himself to Monaco- not me.”

“I’m so sorry.” You hugged him the best you could in your position. “I know that I can’t help you much, but I want you to know I’m here for you.”

“That’s all I ever need.” Charles was worried you hadn’t heard him when you sat down next to him and pulled the books towards you, intent on helping him in any way you could. He knew that with his eventual coronation (god, that was a terrifying thing to think about. How did Lorenzo ever keep his cool?) the kingdom would pressure him to find a wife and carry on the Leclerc bloodline. He wasn’t forced to marry someone with status, just so long as the person could handle the public eye and the inevitable scrutiny. He wanted to form a connection with the woman and have the most normal relationship he possibly could.

“Why do you have to learn how to start a revolution?” You flipped through one of the textbook pages. “Wouldn’t you need to know how to quell one? This is so confusing.” You slam the book shut, bored after only three seconds. How could Charles have stayed up all night doing this? “Okay, what is something productive, yet fun?”

“Do you want to listen to a meeting about military strategies?” Charles suggested. “Dad wants me to start sitting in on meetings of state to make up for the lost years.”

“No,” was your immediate reply. “As much as I love you, Charles, that sounds like the most boring thing in the world.”

“It’s what I’ll be doing the rest of my life,” Charles grumbled.

“And Arthur and I will be with you every step of the way.” You baulked at the lifelong oath you had just promised. But you couldn’t take your words back now. Charles needed you to be his rock, and what good were you if you yourself were slipping under the tide? While Charles was drowning in the sea of uncertainty and pressure, you were drowning in the sea of hopelessness and love. “Do you feel bitter about it?” you asked quietly, wanting to change the subject but also know the truth. “Do you resent Lorenzo for what he did?”

“I want to,” Charles admitted. “I want to force him to take the crown back. I want him to get his ass back here and sit on the throne. I want to hate him. But I can’t. Because I get it. I understand what he’s feeling. He was already under the dissection of the press and public. Now it’s ten-fold. He didn’t do it to get away from the public eye, because let’s be honest, none of us will ever be able to truly escape. He’s doing it to be his own person. Lorenzo is taking the chance I wish I had.” He chuckled sourly, “Lucky bastard.”

“And I know you giving the throne to Arthur is out of the question,” you said.

“Of course,” Charles nodded along solemnly. “I would never do that.”

“Lorenzo did,” you whispered, giving him the tiniest of shrugs and smiles.

He shook his head. “No, it’s out of the question, Y/n.”

“I know.” You never wanted any of this for any of the Leclerc boys. They were too innocent and sweet to be criticised at any turn. “What are you going to do?”

For as long as you had known him, Charles had never looked so scared. “My best.”

The dining room was filled with the quiet scraps of silverware on china. It was almost quiet enough that you could hear reporters shouting from outside. Luckily the castle walls were strong enough to block them out. It had been an awkwardly stressful dinner, each second passing adding to the seconds it was already too late to say something. King Hervé and Queen Pascale sat at the head with Lorenzo and Charles to their right. You and Arthur sat across from the older boys. Rows of empty seats followed after you. You remembered when you and your family were invited for dinner along with other military personalities. The long table was filled with chatter and buzz, the King and Queen looking lovingly down at their employees and subjects. You always sat by Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, laughing away at whatever stupid joke was being said.

It was a stark contrast to what you were experiencing now.

You had expected some hostility radiating from either Charles or Lorenzo, but both were filled only with sadness. Arthur, always needing to be on the move, was tapping his foot up and down and up and down and up and down until you shot him a look. Queen Pascale was looking lonely and King Hervé sat blissfully unaware of the matters around him.

You were just about to excuse yourself when the King set his knife and fork down and stood. “Y/n, sweetheart, can you come help me?”

Your eyes dashed towards Pascale to make sure you weren’t the only one who heard him. Pascale was confused, but ushered you to his side. You obeyed, standing quickly and going to support him.

“Come along,” he led you out of the room and to a short hallway. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you said.

“Can you look after Charles?”

The King’s question shocked you. “Of course, your Majesty.”

“No, Y/n.” The King stopped and faced you, looking you in the eye. You immediately looked to the ground, then to the wall behind him and finally back to him, all while mustering up the courage to meet his headstrong gaze. You felt exposed as the monarch of your country stared you down. “Take care of him, just as he takes care of you. You and Arthur are brilliant friends, but we both know your relationship with Charles is deeper than friendship.”

“Your Majesty,” you cut him off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My relationship with Charles is the same as my relationship with Arthur.”

“If you believe that, dear, then you may need to do some soul searching.” The King had an odd twinkle in his eye, one that could only be held by a person who had learned the lessons of the world. “I’m asking you for this favour. I don’t have a long time left on this Earth. I need to know my son’s in good hands. With this power and expectations unexpectedly thrust upon him, he’ll need someone he can come to with his worries and troubles. Someone he can be himself around. You were always that person.”

“King Hervé, I’ll try my best, but eventually we’ll need to go our separate ways,” you said, trying to gently show the king the inevitable truth. “I want to continue school and Charles will have to get married. His wife will take on the responsibilities of his confidant.” You didn’t add that you would be leaving Monaco the moment Charles showed romantic interest in someone.

The King hummed and started walking once again. You led him to a wooden door that entered his chambers. “The Queen of Monaco would get excellent schooling,” King Hervé offhandedly commented before opening his door and leaving you alone in the hallway.

You stood there, stunned. In two days, both monarchs of Monaco had pushed you into the arms of their middle child.

King Hervé couldn’t be suggesting what you thought he was. Could he?

“What did dad talk to you about, Y/n?” Arthur found you in the gardens. You were wandering aimlessly and ended up at the weeping willow that was cemented in so many of your memories.

“He asked me to look after Charles.” You sat down, legs folding under you like a stack of cards. Arthur plopped down next to you.

“Well, that’s easy, right? Just stick around a while more and he’ll be fine. Your job is literally to give him hugs.” Arthur laughed.

“Arthur, does Charles like me?” You asked suddenly, twisting your body to look at the boy. He sat back on his hands, getting comfortable under the cool summer air.

“What do you mean? You're his best friend. Other than me, of course,” he grinned at his last words. “And Lorenzo. So you’re maybe third or fourth on the list. After the dog. You’re definitely after the dog.”

You slugged him in the arm, matching his smirk, saying, “but seriously though, both your mum and dad hinted that Charles liked me. In a… more than friendship way.” You felt as if you were back in primary school by using that phrase.

Arthur sighed heavily, “oh god, Y/n.” He scratched his neck. “This isn’t my confession to make.”

“So he does like me?!” you cried out.

“But you like him back, right?” Arthur shrugged. “It was so obvious. Our entire childhood, you and him were always stuck together. You and I hung out too, but he was always the one you ran to when you were hurt or sad. I was the third-wheel and Lorenzo, when he had time, was the fourth. Wait-” he paused, realising his analogy didn’t work out. “You and I hung out at night, but I’m confident that if Charles was up at the same time, you would’ve roped him into our adventures. There was this… connection that neither Lorenzo or I could achieve with you. A small part of you was only for him and vise-versa. You should’ve heard the things he said about you when you were gone. It was always, ‘when’s Y/n coming back?’ and ‘I miss Y/n’. Honestly, it was annoying.” He shot you an exaggerated side-eye. You chuckled quietly, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I’m not jealous. You and I had many special memories without my ugly older brother. Remember that one time where in the middle of night we went bowling and practically woke up the entire castle?!”

You joined him in laughing hysterically. You remembered, “my parents were so mad!”

“But my dad insisted we finish the round,” Arthur added on. “And then everyone else started playing as well.”

“That was a good night,” you agreed.

“My point,” Arthur brought you back to the topic at hand. “Is that you and Charles like each other and if I’m the one to make you realise your feelings, then that’s a problem. My parents clearly picked up on it and are now making sure that you and Charles get together before they’re gone.”

You sat in thought for a moment before saying, “I never asked how you and Carla are doing.”

The boy smiled lazily. “It’s going really well. She’s really sweet and cares about others. You’ll love her.”

“I’m sure I will.” You nudged your arm with his. “Any girl that can put up with you is worth keeping.”

“Piss off! I have half a mind to throw you in the lake!”

“Don’t you dare, Leclerc. I swear to god I will murder you.”

“That’s an act of treason.”

“Charles can pardon me.”

“I’m sure he will.” Arthur rolled his eyes, “I’m sure he will.”

Three teenage princes barged into your room without so much as a knock. “Oh my god!” you cried, “What are you guys doing?!” You were laying on your bed with your computer which continued playing Rise of the Guardians. Jack Frost had just been kidnapped by the Easter Bunny.

“Where have you been?” Arthur jumped on the bed with you and yanked the covers over him. You growled and yanked them back. “Geez,” he muttered, squirming around to get comfortable. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“The blood currently exiting my body,” you retorted.

“Ew!” Arthur jumped back and off the bed, a shiver going up his spine. “You could’ve told me that before!”

“It’s not fucking contagious,” you said. “Unless you suddenly grew a uterus I didn’t know about.” Lorenzo laughed at your response. “What are you pricks doing here?”

“We were going to go horseback riding,” Charles explained. “We wanted to ask you to join us, but now that’s out of the question.”

“Oh. Well, you guys go without me,” you said. “Give Loki a sugarcube for me, will you?” When you were kids, the four of you had all named your horses together. Lorenzo's horse was Stark, Arthur called his Wanda, and you and Charles decided on the names Thor and Loki.

“But you’re not feeling well!” Charles protested, his brows furrowing. You shifted in your bed as a wave of cramps came over you.

“I’ve done this a lot. I’ll be fine.”

“Move over,” Charles sighed and climbed into your bed. He threw off his shoes and sweater, leaving him in an undershirt and sweatpants before pulling the covers towards him. He leaned back on your pillows and slung an arm over your shoulders.

“What’re you watching?” Lorenzo asked, sitting on your other side with his legs crossed.

“Rise of the Guardians,” you replied.

“With Sandy?” Arthur shoved Lorenzo over and cuddled into the spot next to you. You pushed the computer away so they could see easier.

Pressing play, you said, “Yeah, with Sandy. What other Rise of the Guardians do you know of?”

The movie continued and both you and Arthur cried during Sandy’s death. Whenever your cramps were acting up or your back hurt, you would fist Charles’ shirt in your hand and try to snuggle closer to him. Charles frequently drew circles on your arm or pressed a kiss to your hair.

Lorenzo and Arthur exchanged a look. How could you two be so dumb?

The field looked an awful lot like the one in the castle gardens. Some flowers wilted under the harsh sun and you made a mental note to tell Lando about it. He would be devastated to lose a plant.

It was a serene day, but you were forgetting something. You couldn’t remember what. It gnawed at you like it was at the tip of your tongue and wanted to burst out, but something was blocking it.

Suddenly, the ground caved out from under you and you started falling. You cried out for someone- anyone to come and save you.

You braced for the end. For the inevitable crushing end that would end in writhing pain or the quickness of death. Which would be better?

Just as suddenly as you fell, you woke up. It was just a dream, you kept reminding yourself as you hurried out of the now scarred room.

You didn’t want to see if Arthur was awake. If he was, you would prompt him to go to sleep. He needed it.

You weaved through the castle before stopping at a familiar painting. It used to be your favourite as a kid. A Huguenot, as it was titled. The full name was A Huguenot, on St. Bartholomew's Day, Refusing to Shield Himself from Danger by Wearing the Roman Catholic Badge painted by John Everett Millais.

You had learned about it from your art history tutor. The Leclerc boys didn’t care for the class, but you found it oddly fascinating. When you had learned about the Huguenot it instantly captured your attention.

You remembered your tutor saying, “The painting depicts an incident occurring on St. Bartholomew’s Day, when a massacre of Protestants by Catholics took place in Paris during the Wars of Religion. The white band the woman is attempting to tie around her lover's arm was an act to shield him from harm during the coming massacre and an identifier of Roman Catholicism. A small number of Protestants escaped from the city by wearing the white armbands.

“The young man gently pulls the armband off with the same hand with which he embraces the girl. Having to choose between religion and love, the man’s refusal of this badge would result in certain death,” the tutor concluded.

You had always loved the painting, feeling a sense of desperate longing from it.

“Y/n?” A hushed voice called to you. Charles walked up to you, still in his sleepwear. He paused and looked up at the painting. “Your favourite, huh?”

“Yeah. What’re you doing up?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” the boy brushed it off. “Are you still having those nightmares?”

“How do you know about that?” You were pretty sure you’d only told Arthur about those.

“I found you and Arthur one morning sleeping under a pool table. When I asked him about it he said you kept having nightmares and he was trying to help.”

“Ah,” you cracked a smile. “Yeah, they haven’t gone away.”

“Truth be told,” Charles was still admiring the painting. “I always envied you and Arthur. In the morning, Lorenzo and I would wake to some new inside joke that had transpired the previous night. I wanted to feel that close to you as well. I would try to stay awake all night so I could be part of the adventures, but I always fell asleep.” He chuckled at the memory.

“Charlie,” You gushed at his confession, leaning against him. “You and I will always be close. You don’t have to be sleep deprived for that. Arthur and I’s relationship was a purely platonic thing built on laughter and escapade. Ours was built on trust and caring. Not to mention all the mischief we got ourselves into.”

Charles laughed loudly at your words. “We once rigged the intercom to play polka music all day and night!”

“The nannies were so mad!” You snickered at the memory.

Charles hummed and fixed his sight on the painting once more. “The man is going to fight for his religion, right?”

“You remember?” You were surprised he was able to recollect the knowledge.

“Of course!” Charles smiled widely and his voice raised a couple notes. “You blabbered about it whenever we passed it in the hall. You always had to stop and stare. Why wouldn’t I remember something so important to you?”

A warm feeling rose up in your chest. “Come on, Charlie,” You looped your arm through his and directed him away. “Let’s go watch Megamind.”

“Okay, chérie,” Charles squeezed you in a side-hug. “But I want popcorn.”

“Stove-made?”

“Is there another kind?”

King Hervé and Queen Pascale walked into the family room the next morning to find you splayed over Charles on the couch. Charles was drowsily awake and waved to his parents in a morning greeting. His other hand was lazily stroking your arm.

“I’m going to give him my wedding ring tomorrow,” Pascale whispered to her husband.

King Hervé died a week later.

You woke to a sharp knocking. A housekeeper entered and said, “Miss. Y/n, I regret to inform you that King Hervé passed away last night in his sleep.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“King Hervé has died. Queen Pascale is requesting your presence in the sitting room.”

Your first instinct was to ask, “how are the princes?”

“I’m not sure,” the housekeeper admitted. “Do you need assistance getting dressed?”

“No, but thank you.” You jumped out of bed and hurried to the sitting room. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Hervé was dead. He died. You were never going to see him again. What happened now?

You picked up the pace and soon you were running down the castle halls, still in your pyjamas. Servants in black clothing stopped as you dashed by, some even bowing at the waist. You burst into the sitting room to see the Leclercs there. Arthur was slumped on the couch, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked up when you came in and the tears started to fall. Lorenzo was standing by the window watching the people below already beginning to lay flowers for his father. A withered Pascale sat in a plush armchair, fingers to her lips as she hummed a sad tune. Her face was devoid of any emotion and her eyes were dry. And Charles sat hunched over, elbows to his knees as he stared a burning hole into the wall opposite him. His hands were clasped together and you could see the large ring with the royal insignia emblazoned on it.

You slowly knelt in front of Pascale. “My Queen,” you murmured. “My deepest condolences. I know words may never be enough and they can never bring back what’s missing, but he was a wonderful man and a wonderful king. All of Monaco will miss him.”

The Queen began to cry. “Thank you, Y/n, but I’ll be alright. He’s in the hands of God and I know he’s safe and happy. I just miss him is all.”

“It would be wrong if you didn’t,” you tried to alleviate the pain in any way you knew how, but you knew it wouldn’t help. When your own parents had passed, you had stayed in your room for days, a blank-eyed zombie of the person you used to be. It was only when your brother came in to see you that you broke down crying. Charles and Lorenzo had held your hands during the funeral.

You then hugged Lorenzo tightly. He let out a shuddering sigh at your embrace. You always knew the pressure on him was high, but it was as if he was finally releasing it. You knew that he would be okay eventually.

And finally, you sat in between Arthur and Charles. “Come here,” you whispered to the former who fell onto your shoulder, crying quietly.

“Is this how it feels?” The youngest Leclerc brother asked you in a voice so unlike his own. “Is this how it feels to lose someone you love? Why does anyone love when it hurts so much?”

“I don’t know, Artie.” The childhood nickname slipped past your lips. “I don’t know.”

Charles let out a shuddering breath and Arthur pulled away from you, nodding his head at you to comfort Charles. “Mon bonheur,” you wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

That’s when Charles let out a broken sob and curled himself into your lap. He buried himself into you, tears soaking through your nightwear. He sounded like a crushed man, his cries turning to a need for love. “Papa,” his voice broke. “Why does everyone have to leave?”

“No one is leaving you, mon bonheur,” you reassured him.

“Yes, they are!” he protested, “Papa left all of us and now you’ll leave too and I… I can’t let that happen.”

“I’m not leaving you.” You couldn’t help but smile sadly. “Artie’s been helping me think it through and I’m going to move back to Monaco. I’ve missed you guys too much to leave again.”

“Really?” Charles sounded like a lonely child.

“Really,” you confirmed it with a nod of your head. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, as will your family because we love you.” You rested your cheek on his hair. “It’ll all be alright. This is the hardest part of it all.” All the Leclerc’s were listening in, hoping for some way to cope with the loss of their husband and father. “But it’ll get easier. One day you’ll wake up and not think about him at all. Then you’ll go to bed and realise it and feel bad, because you think you need to remember him everyday to honour him and all the happy times together. But then someone makes you laugh and you feel back to your old self for a second. Then you’ll realise it’s what he would want. He would want you to laugh and love and live. Just because someone is gone doesn’t mean you can stop living. Every once in a while you’ll see something that will remind you of him and you’ll think of a good time together. Everything will turn a shade of melancholy for a while, but you’ll see your family and they’ll lift you up again. No one leaves you. And the reason why it hurts so much, Artie,” you direct your words to him, “is because you loved him. To be human is to love and to lose. And it’s terrible. And we hate it. Losing someone is an awful thing to go through and there’s nothing that anyone can do or say that will make the pain go away. But you still have each other,” you shrug. “That seems like a pretty sweet deal.”

“You were always the best at pep talks,” Lorenzo huffs a small laugh. “Could always make me feel better after a hard day.”

“We should employ you as our personal pep-talker,” Arthur added, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“How much would I get paid?” you retorted, trying to bring humour to the situation.

“As much as you need to keep you here.” Charles immersed himself in you. He loved the way you smelled, the way your skin sent shivers up his, the way your heart beated, and everything else about you.

“Come along, boys,” Pascale stood up suddenly. “There’s a lot that needs to be done.”

The next days were a blur. You hardly remembered any of it. Pascale was in charge of planning Hervé’s funeral, and when it got too overwhelming, Arthur took over. Your hours were filled with planning the coronation. Luckily, most of it was protocol and out of your control, but swabs of fabric and long guest lists were still shoved your way. Mercifully, Lorenzo assisted you with the intricate monarchy procedures. Charles was off doing who knows what and who knows where. Some nights you would peek into his room and find him sprawled out on the bed, snoring softly. You would ease his shoes off his feet and carefully loosen his tie before sneaking out of the room.

Overnight, it was as if the castle had transformed. The flags were all drawn at half-mast, yards of black fabric covered the windows, and everyday at noon, the bells would toll endlessly.

You weren’t allowed to walk with the royal family at the procession, but instead with the long lines of servants that came after the guards and knights. Crowds gathered in the streets to watch their beloved king parade pass in a suffocating, but ethereal and eternal coffin. You wanted to cover your ears as bells rang and rang and rang as the procession went on.

During the funeral, Arthur brought you up to the front so you could take your rightful place among the family. Charles instantly gripped your hand.

This wasn’t like your parents funeral, both of whom had died in combat when a stray bomb had blown their lives away. They were buried in a small military cemetery on the outskirts of Monaco where you were handed two Monégasque flags as the next-of-kin. That’s what had broken you on that day, being reminded of how your parents died. Of course, the press didn’t care, hounding after their next story of Monaco Royal Family Seen at Random Funeral or We Invade Someone’s Mourning Time to Get Pictures of our Monarchs or New Girlfriend to a Monégasque Prince Because They Were Seen Holding Hands at a Sad Event? Lorenzo and Charles had given the press a good talking-to.

King Hervé’s funeral was in a grand church where he would be buried in a stone mausoleum after the traditional prayers. Queen Pascale laid a red carnation on his coffin before it was lowered into the hauntingly beautiful mausoleum.

Charles let out a low sigh and when you glanced over you saw him crying silently. You knew no words could help him at that moment. It was as if you could feel the sadness radiating off of him. You would take it all away if you could. Anything to help him.

Charles had the same thought during your parents’ funeral.

His coronation was three days later. Arthur had found a loophole in the ceremony and instead of sending you an invitation, wrote you down as his plus-one, therefore earning you a seat in the front row. You had puzzled over what to wear that day, finally settling on a red gown for the colours of Monaco. Arthur and you entered behind Lorenzo and Pascale as the Monégasque anthem played.

“Oh my gosh,” Arthur muttered to you. “So many stuffy people in stuffy clothes.”

You shushed him, “quiet!” Arthur gave you his signature side-eye and you wanted to burst out laughing. You tried to hold it in but a snicker got past you. Arthur let out a giggle at that. Pascale held a finger to her lips, hiding a smile of her own.

The priest marched down the aisle and as he reached the altar, the organ stopped playing. A choir started singing, everybody stood, and Charles entered the church.

You almost stopped breathing.

You had never seen him look so regal. Charles was adorned by the coronation robes and crown jewels. His hair was styled to perfection and his shoes shined so brightly you could see your reflection in them. He was celestial.

“Close your mouth,” Arthur bent over and whispered to you. “You’ll catch flies.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed.

“Swearing in a house of God?” Arthur hissed. “Heinous.”

As Charles passed, people bowed. When Charles glided by the first row, Lorenzo and Arthur bent at the waist while you curtsied deeply. Pascale stayed upright but placed a hand over her heart. Charles climbed the steps and knelt before the priest.

The priest gave a long speech and you could practically feel Charles’ irritation rolling off of him in waves. His knees must be hurting by now. Finally, he was to recite his vows.

“Is your Majesty willing to take Oath?” the priest asked.

“I am willing,” Charles’ voice reverberated through the hall. Something stirred in your chest. You knew he was telling the truth.

The priest outstretched the royal sceptre towards Charles. “Will you accept the responsibilities as king for as long as you shall live?”

“I do,” Charles gripped the sceptre and held the cool metal in his palm.

“Will you solemnly swear to govern the people of Monaco and promise to execute Law, Justice, and Mercy in all your judgements?”

“I swear,” Charles repeated.

“Will you to the utmost of your power,” the priest declared, “maintain the Laws of God and its true profession? Will you maintain and preserve inviolably the settlement of the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in Monaco? Will you preserve all such rights and privileges of the people of Monaco, as by law do or shall appertain to them?”

“I do swear by all.”

“Will you to the utmost of your power hold true peace under your rule?”

“I will,”

“And you,” the priest raised his arms and addressed the church. “The people and subjects of Monaco, all who so desire, say together: ‘I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors, according to law, so help us in the name of our country.’”

People all over Monaco joined together to say, “I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs,” Arthur nudged your arm at that and you pinched him. “And successors, according to law, so help us in the name of our country.” Charles bowed his head as he listened to his people.

“Do the people of Monaco accept Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc to be crowned as their king?”

“We do,”

“Will the princes and heirs of Monaco please join us at the altar?” Lorenzo and Arthur stepped out into the church aisle and Charles stood and turned around. His robe curled around his feet and the spectre gleamed in the stained glass light. He caught your eye right away and you sent him a wink, lips curling into a smile. The new King of Monaco blushed and glanced at his feet. Pascale beamed at the exchange.

“Please kneel at the feet of your King,” the priest asked of the Leclerc boys. They did as they were told. Charles outstretched his hand which wore the royal ring. “Do you swear to aid your King in any way possible? Do you swear, in case of harm, to assume the position of monarch of Monaco until your King is married in law and love?” Charles’ swallowed and his stare remained firmly on the ground.

“We swear.” They both took turns grasping Charles’ hand and gently placing a kiss on the ring.

“You may return to your seats,” the priest allowed.

Arthur stood back next to you and said, “My mouth tastes like metal.”

“Sucks to be you.”

The priest concluded, “Let us rejoice in our new sovereign king of Monaco as he pledges to serve and protect us all.” The priest turned and lifted the Crown of Monaco from an altarboy. “Let Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc be crowned as the King of Monaco.” And he placed the Monégasque royal crown on Charles’ head.

Charles embraced the thunderous applause of his people. A swelling pride erupted in your chest. You had never been so elated.

“Then let this joyous day be celebrated across the land in the eyes of God,” the priest called out loudly and Charles stepped down the altar stairs and into the role of King.

“Where’s Lorenzo?”

“I don’t wanna know.”

“You don’t think…”

“Oh, I know! I saw him going off with a daughter of a duke a couple minutes ago.”

“Ew!” You groaned, shaking your head furiously, knowing the next time you saw Lorenzo, you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.

“What do you expect?” Charles whispered in your ear, body pressed up against yours. “This is Arthur’s seventeenth birthday. We’re all legal now.”

“And are you going to exploit your legality?” You smirked, tilting up to look at him.

Charles hummed lowly and you could feel the vibration in his chest. “Maybe. Are you?”

You thought about your next words. You were sure he could feel your heart; it was banging like a drum, erupting with butterflies, and fluttering with worries. If you responded with a nod, where could it take you? If you shook your head, would you spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been?

And did you want this?

Did you want Charles?

… Did you even like Charles?

Charles picked up on your hesitancy and said quietly, “there’s absolutely no pressure, but I want you to know that my room is always open to you.” You glanced at him, noting the double entendre, before letting your eyes rest comfortably back on his chest. It was emblazoned with medals and sashes, akin to his brothers.

You gave him a single nod- one that only he could see. A secret between the two of you. In response, Charles pressed a kiss to your forehead.

That night, you paced outside his room for quite some time. Fear eventually overcame you and you hurried back to your room. You couldn’t go in. Charles sat awake, waiting all night with the hope that you would come to him.

The next weekend you left for college. You didn’t see him again until Lorenzo’s abdication, but it was as you never left.

“May I have this dance?” You turned to see Charles standing behind you, smiling cockily. He had changed out of his robe for a much more modern black tuxedo, paired with a red pocket square.

“Of course, my King.” Charles’ eyes darkened at your response and he raised a brow. “But are you sure you want your first dance to be with me?”

“Who else would I dance with?” Charles wondered. “I’ve already danced with my mother. I want the next to be with you.”

You let the king sweep you out onto the dance floor, letting the years of training take hold of you. Effortlessly, the two of you were able to float along and keep up conversation.

You asked, “how do you feel?”

Charles shrugged. “No different from when I woke up. Must I say, you are looking radiant today.”

You dipped your head to hide your smile. “Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I got dressed up.”

Charles hummed, but didn’t say anything. After a moment, he said, “it was just procedure, you know that, right?”

“What do you mean?” Charles spun you around in a small circle before bringing you back to him.

“They still have that stupid line in the coronation vows. ‘Pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors.’” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if I have heirs or not. They still have Arthur as next in line.”

You frowned. “I thought you wanted a family?”

“I do,” Charles stopped dancing. Your hand rested on his shoulder and his gripped your waist. Your other hands were entwined intimately. If he could, Charles would stay like this forever. No one else; just you and him. That’s all he ever needed. “I think I’ve made that clear.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” You wanted to step away from him. You needed to put some distance between the two of you, but you couldn’t. You could never leave him. It was like a magnetic force connected the two of you. No matter how long you were apart, you would always end up back in each other's arms.

“Fear,” Charles admitted. “I couldn’t handle rejection. It would break me. All my life I’ve known it’s her. Somewhere deep inside of me could tell. I can’t be away from her. I need to see her and make sure she’s safe. I need to hold her and love her. Whenever we’re apart it tears me up inside. If she were ever to refuse me I don’t know how I would go on. She’s my other half. My lasting pair. Ma chérie.”

People were stopping and staring at the King and you. Lorenzo poked at his mother who stifled a gasp.

Arthur asked, “why aren’t they dancing?”

“I don’t know,” Lorenzo sounded panicked. “The press are going to have a field day.”

“Don’t you boys see?” Pascale was grinning. “They’re in love and finally realising it. Who cares about the press? This is about them.”

“You were always one for romance, mama,” Arthur said.

“Charlie,” you said. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Charles beamed and did as he was told. You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his neck. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other settled on the small of your back, wanting you closer still. It was a tender kiss, and long overdue. It was like kissing was created just for the two of you; just so you could experience each other. If deities were real, you were sure Aphrodite had smiled down from the heavens and chosen you and Charles.

When you broke apart and the cameras continued flashing, Charles said, “ma chérie, I cannot tell you how long I’ve waited for that.”

“I hope you weren’t disappointed?”

“With you? Never.”

It was a quiet morning. You had woken up a few minutes ago but decided to stay in your husband’s warm embrace. Charles’ arm was wrapped tightly around your torso and you could feel his breath on your bare shoulder.

Charles shifted softly and groaned, “good morning.” You would never get used to his morning voice.

“I’ll never get used to your morning voice.” You rolled over to greet him. Charles smiled lazily and stroked your cheek lovingly.

“Hello my beautiful Queen.”

“Hello my handsome King. Did you sleep well?”

“With what little sleep I got, I slept wonderfully.” He winked, referring to last night’s activities.

“What do you have planned for today?” you asked while reaching for his hand. Charles gladly gave it to you and interlaced your fingers.

“Just a couple of meetings with the Board. Then I’ll have the rest of the day to spend with you and Liza.”

“That’s nice. She’s been wanting to show you her new tricks on Danvers.” You referred to your daughter’s horse.

“She’s going to surpass me someday.” Charles jokingly shook his head.

“Hate to break it to you, but she already has, old man,” you teased.

Charles gaped at your words. “Old man?! If that’s true, then you’re calling yourself an old woman.”

“I’m not an old woman,” you explained. “I just married an old man. I’m in it for the money.”

Charles laughed loudly. “Well, I hope you’re happy with your old man, ma chérie, because he’s not ever letting you go.”

“I’m very happy with him.” You grinned and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

Before Charles could chase after you with the complaint of wanting a real kiss, the door to your bedroom banged open.

“Maman! Papa!” A little voice called out.

“Is everyone decent?” Arthur yelled out from around the corner. He stuck his head in the room, eyes firmly closed. “‘Cause I still have the last image burned into my retinas.”

“You only saw my butt!” Charles scoffed.

“It was plenty,” Arthur drew out the last word. He shuddered from the memory.

Eliza jumped on the bed and into Charles’ arms. “Uncle Artie and Grammy are gonna take me to London!”

“What?” You sat up and quickly grabbed Charles’ discared shirt that still lay on the floor from last night. Buttoning it up, you demanded, “Arthur, come here.”

Arthur’s face morphed into one of fear. “Mama was the one that suggested it!” he defended, “and Liza promised not to tell.”

“That’s worse,” you pointed out.

“Do you have to work today, Papa?” Liza asked Charles.

“Only a little in the morning,” Charles said, settling her on his lap. “Then I’m all yours in the afternoon.”

“Can we go swimming?” Eliza asked.

“Yes,”

“And horseback riding?”

“Of course,”

“And can we have a tea party with Grammy and Daniel?” Liza gasped, thinking only of her grandma and favourite castle guard. Their connection had begun early on when you found Daniel playing with Eliza one evening. You had apologised profusely, but he simply scooped her up and promised it was no big deal. They had become quick friends.

“Only if there’s donuts,” Charles bargained.

“Only if we can have it in your room under the painting.” She pointed to A Huguenot which had presided over your room ever since you moved in with Charles.

Charles thought for a moment before sticking his hand out. “Deal.” He and his daughter shook hands.

“Liza?” You kissed her forehead and asked her, “why don’t you go play with Uncle Artie for a while until your Daddy and I can join you for breakfast?”

“Okay!” The girl happily jumped off the bed and ran out of the room.

Arthur scampered after and yelled out in warning, “I better not hear any other cries for ‘Daddy!’”

You rolled your eyes while Charles restrained from cursing at his brother for fear of his daughter hearing him. You leaned back into Charles’ chest and he laid his head on yours. After a moment, he whispered, “you’ve been sleeping through the night.”

“I have been.” You nodded. “I think I’ve had the perfect person to help me fall asleep.”

“Or maybe you’re just too tired after each night.” Charles started kissing your neck, slowly starting to suck a hickey.

You let out a soft moan and clutched his hand. “Charlie,” you murmured through gritted teeth. “Liza’s expecting us.”

“She can wait.” Charles laid you down softly on the sheets. “I love you, ma chérie.” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

“I love you too, mon bonheur.”

People in the F1 world I wanna be friends with but am too scared to message: @leclsrc @hey-kae @vinvantae @schuvries

969 notes · View notes

billskeis · 4 months

Note

Hi! Absolutely love ur work💕💕 Okay so could you write hcs with all four members (separate) that have a quiet/ shy type s/o?

(Sorry that this req is short but my brain is running out of juice rn, love the work, keep it up😘😘)

ᡣ𐭩 tokio hotel w shy s/o

thank u so much! and don’t worry, you’re doing great! let’s appreciate all my shy and quiet homies out there! y’all deserve some more appreciation in your life.

headcannons down below!

bill

loves loves loves that you’re shy, he thinks it’s so cute

usually one to go for loud spontaneous girls but you’re like a stick in the mud, and that drew you to him

since you don’t talk much you’re a really good listener, and bill is known to ramble a lot

appreciates the fact you listen to him attentively

because of how tall he is, loves the fact that whenever you’re out to meet new people you hide behind him, how you have to peak behind his shoulder once he introduces you to his peers or acquaintances and is always holding your hand through it, squeezing it to ensure everything is okay

hand holding in public gets you super shy but bill loves to show you off in any way possible

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, so will out of the blue compliment you to see how you react

hiding your face, not knowing how to respond, running away from him to only catch up to you quickly

he fucking loves that shit

“aww come on baby, am i not allowed to tell you how beautiful you are?”

tom

just like bill, usually goes for spontaneous girls

but when he saw you at the club and how flustered you became when he hit on you, MANS WAS DRAWN INNN

physical touch all the way, makes you insane and knees weak, and he just lives for that

sudden grabs of the waist, hugging, holding your neck gently to swiftly pull you into a kiss

maybe if he’s feeling bold he’ll sneak a hand on your ass

the eye contact goes crazy, once you look at him and he catches you, he’ll never break his gaze

finds it super adorable that you’re always the one to break the stare down, laughs and pats your head always afterwards

omgosh loves and i mean fucking loves it when you hide yourself in his clothes especially his sweaters when he’s wearing them how you’ll just tuck yourself into the sweater bodies pressed together engulfing like FUCK do this more often he loves it

whenever you go out to get food, you’re shyness doesn’t allow you to take to service workers so he always offers to order for you, eventually it becomes a habit and does it himself

“how’s that baby, i made sure to get your coffee just how you like it.. oh me? a coca cola!”

gustav

introvert x introvert ALL THE WAYY BABEYYY

the way you and gustav show affection for one another usually comes from physical touch or acts of service

communicating with each other isn’t hard, it’s almost like a spidey sense where you just know what the other person wants or needs and can simply do that for them

expect soo many cuddles, movie marathons and baking/cooking sessions, gustav loves to cook and bake with you, the playlist on in the background that the two of you curated for one another simply enjoying each other’s company is enough for the both of you

on the other hand, if you guys wanted to step out of the comfort zone to go outside on a date, expect to play rock paper scissors to see who has to talk to someone to either order food or request a table at a restaurant

you and gustav can also have one on one sessions with each other deep conversing, talking about anything and everything

can immediately notice when you’re uncomfortable or feeling way too shy or nervous in situations

will either step up, say something, or simply bring you somewhere else where it’s now just the two of you

if you tell and express to him how you feel, will fully listen to you, holding your hands together caressing them

“i understand.. we can either leave, or if not, you can sit next to me! i’m right here with you.

georg

is the biggest shit ever

even more than tom, loves to tease you, you can find him tapping your shoulder and running away leaving you confused or whenever you compliment or tell him you love him will make you repeat it loud and clear

but if it comes to that case, will have to beat the shit out of someone if they make a comment about how shy or quiet you are

not much of a talker, but when he does find himself talking a lot more than you in conversations always asks what you think and what your opinion on it is

does it solely just to hear you speak because he loves your voice and doesn’t get to hear it enough ugh y/n what’s wrong w u??

expect him to rest his arm on your shoulder, head on chin, and bear hugs, he thinks that just because you’re quiet he treats you as if you were someone smaller than him

but he this is just how he publicly shows how in love with you he is

constantly compliments you on how you look, the outfits you wear, how good you are at things vice versa nd that

but you finally snap back at him and compliment him even further and woah honey you have him in a chokehold rn

“fuck, i didn’t expect you to say that, can you say it again? please? i wanna’ hear it one more time..”

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel fluff #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz fluff #gustav schafer #gustav schafer fluff #georg listing #georg listing fluff #2000s #fyp

173 notes · View notes

yuurei20 · 3 months

Note

hi hi! i wanna start off this ask with thanking you for all your translations and comparisons! they're all so interesting to read and really help with putting the characters' personalities into perspective. i was rereading the heartslabyul manga and noticed that ace seemed to think the title of magic-less prefect was cool while in the game he was more neutral and simply stated they must be the first at nrc? is the direct translation perhaps more positive? thank you in advance!

Hello hello!! You are too kind, thank you very much m(_ _)m

And thank you so much for this question, it was fascinating to look into!

I went through the game, manga and novel for the scene you refer to, and compared what we see:

Ace's original dialogue and the EN translation are almost identical here (just with the removal of a プッ sound at the beginning, insinuating that he is holding back laughter), where he comments on the player character being maybe NRC's first-ever magicless prefect.

His follow-up line is where things begin to deviate:

Original Game: Nice, that's cool. A prefect who can't use magic! Original Manga: Nice, a prefect who can't use magic! That's cool! English Manga: A prefect who can't use magic. I like it! It's so cool.

English Game: But sure, why not? Whatever works!

While Ace's positive approval from original game and manga was kept in the English-manga adaptation, for some reason it was toned down to "whatever works" in the English game (this line does not exist in the novel). Nice catch!

I also compared Ace's earlier interaction with the prefect across the two translations (plus the manga and novel) to see what deviations there might be, and in that case the English-language adaptation of the game is perfectly accurate to the original:

The original- and English-language manga have slightly different phrasing in this scene (and Deuce is there, whereas he isn't in the game or novel), but the overall feeling is the same:

- "Only the chosen ones are allowed to enroll in this academy. You didn’t have what it takes." - "Are you lecturing me? I kinda think that’s super annoying." - "I’m out of here. I have class."

The biggest change in this scene is in the original novel, where Ace is even meaner:

- "Getting the attention of everyone in school, and then the perfect punchline: you’re a magicless, disappointing, nobody." - "What is with you? Don’t you have any pride?" - "Tried talking to you just to tease you a bit, but this is boring. Do your best with that monster, for the rest of us—and with your cleaning."

And this is possibly because we get a more detailed look into Ace's underlying issue with the prefect in the novel:

"‘I’m saying, I was wrong. I might have said some horrible things to you because I didn’t know your situation. All I heard was there was someone in the school who doesn’t even have any magic, so I thought you’d forced your way in or something, while the rest of us all had to get in on our own merit. I thought it wasn’t fair, so I got a little pissed off.’

The words leave Ace in a rush, fast and awkward, and then he hangs his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

Then Ace lifts his head again just slightly, giving Yuuya a glance.

‘…if you apologize then you get forgiven, right?’"

(The "Meeting Ace" scene has now been added to the overall compilation of translations from the first novel!)

#twstask #twisted wonderland #Ace Trappola

68 notes · View notes

huenation · 9 months

Text

try again / cyj

word count: 2,172

genre: angst, comfort, friends to exes to friends to lovers

warnings: self deprecative jokes, heavy on the mutual pining, bad household, and that moment when u don’t know who u are XD (happens to us all <3)

synopsis: the line of being friends and in love got messy with your past breakup but in your case, was it ever really there if you’ve both never stopped loving each other? ★ prompt addition

soundtrack: try again by jaehyun, d.ear

“thanks.” yeonjun says looking directly at you though you don’t meet his eyes, too caught in making sure the cup of hot chocolate you give him doesn’t spill. you smile and settle down adjacent to him, missing the way he watches you even if it’s so briefly. he glows just about every time he looks at you but considering it’s been years since you’ve allowed yourselves to be romantic towards one another (since the breakup), you always miss it. that, and you’re also oblivious.

“so, you wanted to talk?” contrary to the casualness of your tone, you’re actually so anxious you could throw up. yeonjun’s wide smile falters, glow in his eyes following, and he sets his drink down beside him he’s also filled with anxiety.

“yeah, i do,” he pauses. “i think we should continue our chat from the other night, and i also know you want to talk, y/n.”

oh yeah. that one.

one would think that after years that a past relationship would not be on the forefront of your mind and your heart but it was. you never really felt like you could move on, always missing closure and never having stopped loving yeonjun. but you kept that part to yourself, feeling like he would be much better off with someone else even if you’re past that hurdle in your life that had brought you two to separate in the first place (among other things).

it was a fun night out at a busy cafe, in a circular booth with your friends. yeonjun had gone to go order a pastry but came back, frantic, asking for advice or what he should say to someone he thought was super and had been in line behind him, unsure of how to go about showing his interest.

in response, like you always do, you joked about he came to the worst people for advice since you and all your friends are currently single. beomgyu just laughed along, the others adding on other reasons that were mainly comedic value.

that is until the next thing you said. well, the other guys giggled, too, since you both only ever referred to your failed relationship with jokes, or rather you did. it was just a thing that you hardly ever took things seriously, so happy go lucky and keeping things lighthearted even if most of your jokes orbited your self deprecation (within reason — you had plenty of other content for your jokes).

you joked about the most confounding evidence as to why he shouldn’t ask you for dating advice; he had dated you and you broke up with him.

in between stirring around some of his foam at the bottom of his drink, kai asked, “oh yeah, why did you guys break up? it’s been so long.” you snorted, shaking the ice of your drink. “guys, be for real, obviously, i’m obviously just the weird detour you take before you find the right person you wanna be with. you could have a real shot with this person.”

“okay but — ” you were giggling still. “when you guys get married, i’ll be able to thank myself for being at my worst then.

yeonjun scowled at that. “why?” all the other’s conversations seemed to happen around the two of you, distracted by something else.

“‘cause. you deserved better then and maybe this’ll be the person you were deserving along. and i can finally tell myself that we broke up for a good reason.”

your voice had been so still and quiet, yeonjun’s heart shattering, while you ripped the lid off your plastic cup. so nonchalant. he stared at you for a moment before pushing off the table and taking a step back.

“that wasn’t helpful, y/n.” he had said quietly to you. you simply rolled your eyes playfully, lighthearted smile to balance, snickering along beomgyu and soobin to whatever they were bantering about. kai and taehyun on the other side had tossed out random tips that obviously didn’t work for them.

“come on, jun, you don’t need to worry. she’s obviously gonna like you.” you muttered nonchalantly, so confident that the distant shatter of your heart was out of sight and ear, even in the face of the man you’ve never stopped loving.

“i doubt it, but i guess, i’ll still try. better than nothing…” he said quietly.

“well, good luck, jun.” you told him dismissively while trying to get the remaining toppings to your iced drink, unseeing of the way yeonjun frowned as he walked away.

you only half remembered what you’d said that day. all that was positive was that you had said too much. yeonjun on the other hand had remembered everything.

“hey, you know what i just remembered? did that girl ever text you? ‘cause you guys did exchange phone numbers, right?” he blinks a few times, carefully watching your face, before he shakes his head. his pretty raven hair comes down almost to his shoulders, so much longer than the boyish trim look he’d had when you two dated. despite that much, you think he hasn’t changed one bit.

“well yeah, we did, but i never actually texted her.”

“oh.” an unsettled moment of silence falls between you two. you’re focused on a certain stain on the table below you guys.

“listen, y/n — ” he starts and you wince, already trying to dismiss him from initiating, even if it is rude to interrupt. “no, yeonjun, i think, no, i know we never really talked about why i ended things between us. and look, i know you… you respected my decision and understood me even if it was so sudden and over a reason i didn’t disclose entirely, but, oh god — “ he notices your eyes are welling with tears, a bitter but annoyed smile on your face because of it. he knows how much you hate showing your weakness, let alone being vulnerable.

his heart pounds in his chest. he would give anything so that you could stay smiling and happy, anything but this. this hurts. “i’m a different person now than i was then, and-and you deserve to know what happened.”

your voice breaks. yeonjun’s gripping on his (your) mug so tightly his knuckles are white, the cute little bow of his mouth shaking, eyes watering so enough to sting, his throat burns with the urge to bawl as you tell him.

because of everything going on in your house those few years ago, fragments of your family that got under your skin and poisoned you, the tortuous process of trying to leave, battling the old you and the new you, and the weight of everything else, including your new boyfriend (yours truly) and insecurities for being good for him, it��s easy to say you weren’t at a place to be in love, certainly with the people around you who made sure you felt like you didn’t deserve it either.

even though you were all friends for much longer before you got together, god knows you and yeonjun had been pining for one another for years, it became too much, knowing that things were getting too real.

you were at your lowest. yeonjun was always as sweet and caring to you as ever, but instead, his actions made you feel worse. you could hardly give him an ounce of what he deserved in return. if you had the energy to talk to him, it’d end in arguments that you walked away from, too tired to continue.

it seemed like it was time to close that chapter instead of prolonging the pain. you didn’t know who you were then. and you knew yeonjun deserved better than what you were giving him, even if you weren’t exactly be transparent.

years went on. neither of you ever really settled down, just little flings here and there that you’d support each other on, but none of those ever stayed. (he and you made no effort to make them stay…) you always joke about your relationship, since it was so long ago, about how failed it was and naive you were then. at first, yeonjun did joke about your failed relationship, but he couldn’t bring himself to — not when he had known that you really did love him and he certainly has never stopped loving you.

you disclose certain details but hide other specific ones, trying not to give away too much of the fact that you’re really a vulnerable thing who still hasn’t grown up after all these years. it’s a hard thing to keep up a facade that conceals the truth.

when the dust of it all settles, silence falling in the mix, he hears it first before he sees it: your tear drops on the table near your wringing hands. and like clockwork, they come to swipe them off like they were never there in the first place, but yeonjun stops you, speed before your very eyes register it, carding your face in his hand from his side on the table. he leans over his corner of your furniture like it’s nothing.

your eyes give you away.

the relief but tide of emotions feels second to letting yourself be hit by a wave, feelings that have been locked away for such a long time. at least a moment reveals so.

with a soft laugh, you drop your gaze with a sniffle and try to shrug him off, an attempt to pretend that didn’t happen. it’s all you can do not to cave in and admit the mess that you clearly are in front of him, especially when you feel his touch. but he doesn’t budge.

“i wish you wouldn’t do that.” his own voice betrays him, so unstable and choking up on him. you blink through the muddle of tears growing. “what?”

“think of yourself so lowly. you have so much importance and you mean so much to the people in your life. it has never and it will never matter which point you are in life, whether at you’re worst or best or in between, you will always be capable of being loved. you have never deserved anything less.”

he wishes he could add, ‘and i wanna make sure you know that’. in due time, he hopes. in due time.

you’re wetting his hand with your tears. your stomach is curling and curling, chest buzzing, lips fumbling as your body wrestles with the tide of wanting to bawl like a child.

yeonjun gently swipes the wetness on your cheeks, smiling sweetly, patiently, and so full of love. it breaks your heart a thousand times over than it did the first time when you’d broken up with him.

not once have you ever really stopped loving him.

“i wish you knew that… you didn’t have to prove that you’re worthy enough to be loved. you being you was enough for me. you being you is more than enough,” you let out a sound between a cry and yelp, one that shows exactly how crooked and darling your smile is even if tears stain your cheeks. “i‘m sorry i never said it enough, but i’ve been in love with you for so stupidly long.”

his thumb dares to brush so gently over the corner of your lips, just the way he used to do. his eyes skin across your face so carefully. his stomach twists once his mouth opens,

“so, cards out on the table, y/n, i wanna try again. i know it’s not my place to demand something like this from you, but… it’s how i feel,” you don’t say anything, blinking eyes meeting his, in beats of silence broken by shaky breaths and sniffles. he smiles again despite his nervousness. “and you don’t have to agree or anything. again, it’s just how i feel. i’d only want to try but if you do, too, for you to say yes when you’re ready.”

he fumbles with shutting down a ghost of ‘my love’ as an ending to his statement, like he always would say in the past. he can’t help it.

you give him a genuine smile, one that reaches your eyes, and one that he misses every single moment you spend not smiling. such proximity and joy trickles distant memories in colorful explosions behind your eyes in a kaleidoscope of nostalgia. a knowing look is exchanged between you, no words.

it speaks more than none that you understand him and are infinitely thankful. you say so through mouthed words. he nods slowly in acknowledgement. you can feel it down to the marrow of your bones…

oh, how you’ve missed him.

“okay, i’ll let you know when i’m ready, yeonjun. it won’t be that long, just so you know,” you say wetly, sniffling and clearing your thin voice. yeonjun smiles, too, for a change. remember when he didn’t used to smile so much? “i’ve been waiting my whole life to try again with you and even longer to let you know better that i love you, too.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

note: i loveddddd this idea that was an addition on to my silly little prompt so badly you don’t even know 😭😭😭😭😭 it’s probably obvious but this was heavily inspired by certain plot details in ‘new girl’ shoutout to nick miller <3 (not sure if i should stick with this lowercase format or not… either way ~) tysm for reading!

#tomorrow x together imagines #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun angst #yeonjun x reader #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt angst #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt comfort

267 notes · View notes

gothic-thoughts · 3 months

Text

Who Is She?

(a/n): now as a black person... I wouldn't let this slip nor slide 🤣😂

Geto Suguru x Black GN Reader Fluff

Bimbo!Reader, Meetcute(ugly), Drabble

CW: Geto saying monkey (cuz 🙄), Suguru slowly falling for your empty headedness

While in the plaza, I feel someone bump into my back, I turn around in disgust to see a short person sitting on their butt from the force of the fall. They were wearing leather knee-high boots and a short skirt that no doubt came down mid-thigh. A black low-cut crop top hugged their chest as well as revealed a chubby stomach.

“Of course, it's a monkey.” I scoff, “Choose your next words wisely, non-sorcerer.”

They struggle to stand back up on their platform boots and then wobble before steading when they stand. I continue to coldly look down on them.

“Ohmygod, I'm so sorry.”

“Be more careful with your movements and know your place. You may only address me respectfully since I have allowed you that much.”

“You're right, cute guy.” They giggle, “Ion even know why I was running so fast in these fuckin’ heels.”

My eyebrow raises as I register their words. “What the hell did you just call me?”

“Uh, yah. Ion your name so I just went by your face. I mean I guess I coulda said ‘tall guy’ but I'm 5'2" so...”

I try to calm myself down. “You are calling me 'cute' simply because you don't know my name? That's the most foolish excuse I have ever heard.”

“Fine then, ‘cute guy’. What's your name so I can call you that instead.”

“I am Geto Suguru, the special grade sorcerer and the leader of the Curse User Organization, monkey. And you will address me as 'Lord Geto' from now on.”

“Ooou, that sounds important. Suguru is a cute name, by the way.”

Nobody's ever found my surname cute, or even said so, so their words instantly throw me for a loop.

“What?”

“I love your name, it's fun to say. Suguru rolls off the tongue.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“I mean, I could start. I did say you were cute. I'm Amber by the way~”

It was strange, they're annoying, but I don't even think it's on purpose. It's almost cute, the way that every time those glossed lips opened it was to let out a sweet voice saying something idiotic.

“A human like you has the guts to flirt with THE Suguru?”

Why?” They tilt their head dumbly, “You famous or something?”

“Famous? Me? Oh ho, yes.” I smirk at the naive human before me, “Not only am I world-renowned, but I am also feared by many and have quite the reputation for doing some heinous things. I don’t think you comprehend how dangerous I am.”

“Ohhhh.” They lean in and whisper under the noise of the plaza, “Are you a yakuza boss? I won't tell.”

Oh, they're adorable. I’m gonna have fun with them. A smirk spread across my face, making the decision to play along with the idiotic thing.

“Why, yes I am. My empire is the most powerful in the entire world. And if you tell anyone about this, you will never see the light of day again.”

“I won't, I swear. I am so good at keeping secrets.”

“I bet. Something tells me your skull doesn’t quite have the capacity.” I touch the tip of their nose with his index finger, “You are quite the interesting thing, aren’t you?”

“So you like me too?”

They’re so dumb, I can’t even tell if they know I’m flirting. Or does that make them clever? This enigma alone makes me want them even more mysterious and I love it. I don’t even think they know how mysterious they are

“In fact, I think I do. And since you know about my um... secret business, I might have to make you mine.”

They gasp. “Really? That was fast.”

“I just know when I see potential in someone, and you? You have that potential.”

“A mafia boss likes me? It’s like a fanfiction.”

“Yeah, exactly; just like fanfiction. I don’t know what else it is about you but,” I grab their chin and pull them so our gazes meet, “You just keep entertaining me with that smooth brain of yours, and I think I want to own you.”

“Ooh, kinky~”

I chuckle and roll my eyes at their oblivious yet flirty reply despite it enticing me further. I lean in closer, lips just an inch away from theirs.

“Kinky, indeed.”

#x black reader #black reader #black writers #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #black bimbo #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x black!reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x black reader #geto suguru x y/n #jjk suguru #Spotify

84 notes · View notes

xlovely-daydreamsx · 11 months

Text

IFHY CH. 1 (Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans.

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

Warnings: nsfw (18+), possesiveness, rough, mild blood, dirty talk, mentions of character death, you and miguel are both sad and bad at coping

Word Count: 4085

Note: This might be an ongoing series because I have So Many Thoughts. Feel free to send me asks about anything confusing, and let me know if I should continue to post this here or not... IFHY is a Tyler the Creator song, which y’all should listen to - it’s my Miguel’s anthem basically lmfao. ANYWAYS pls enjoy i appreciate u all!

When the spiders begin to infect your world, you know the only person who can keep things under control is you. At least, you’re the only one anyone would hold accountable if they decided to do something… unsavory, and if the large black hole in the middle of New York City was indicative of anything, it was that the spiders were nothing but trouble.

Peter called you first, because he always did.

“Uhm, boss lady, there’s some other Spider-Men here, and they want me to join some secret society? I think I’m being recruited into the Illuminati…” he trails off, obviously whispering into the phone. Since your father had passed, Peter had sort of… leaned on you, in a sense. You hadn’t any recollection of meeting the boy despite his Avenger status, but he looked at you with so much melancholy in his gaze that you knew he must see something of Tony in you, and you’d allow it simply to make yourself feel better. Nobody thinks you’re anything like your dad, but on days like these, you can only wish you were.

“I’ll be right there, Pete.” You mumble back, setting his location into KAREN and heading out, thick black wings spreading behind you, launching you into the night.

The explosion comes moments after.

You see it in the sky - a clash of black and white that seems unworldly, knocking the wind from beneath your wings and sending you flying back, tumbling towards one of the hundreds of towering buildings in New York.

Crack. You hear it as you collide, feeling the dig of concrete and glass into your back - a feeling you’re all too familiar with, and yet it seems like so long ago that you had felt it last. It’s almost… exhilarating.

You steady yourself with a foot against the building, launching yourself off of it and back towards the wreckage of whatever unfortunate event was unfolding in your city.

You watch beeps, signaling your close proximity to Peter and you begin your descent to him.

It was horrible, really, how excited you were at the idea of a fight. The last time you had been involved in something like this was with him by your side… maybe if everything went awry, you could join him soon enough.

There’s a huge fucking hole in your city, you realize as you approach.

“KAREN,” you speak into your wrist as you glide by, “send the bots out to scan and contain the area.” She replies with a conformation, but you’re too transfixed on the pit beneath you. It’s horribly, endlessly back, and you feel yourself being tugged towards it ever-so-slightly as you fly.

You need to find Peter, and fast.

You see the other spiders before you see yours. There’s three of them, all with striking blue and red suits, drawing your eye in curiosity. They all looked so… different. You expected some evil version of Peter, red eyes and big fangs and very obviously variants of your Spider-Man, but the crowd that greets you is nothing of the sort.

You plummet down to the surface, positioning yourself in front of your spider. His suit glimmers with gold and metals- a suit your dad supposedly had made for him.

Looking at it makes you a little queasy, and you fight the urge to stare at your palms, covered in the same glittering metals.

“(Y/N)!” Peter sounds so relieved. He’s always happy to have that weight off his shoulders, free of carrying the burden all on his own. You wonder how long he’d been doing so before you recruited him into the New Avengers.

You wonder how anyone could give up control like he can.

“I guess you guys haven’t gotten the memo,” you gesture at the trio of spiders in front of you. A biker chick, a ballerina, and the biggest fucking beefcake you’ve ever seen in your life; it’s somehow not the weirdest group of friends you’ve seen in your days in the city, “but Earth-616 is closed for tourism and immigration. I don’t care what planet, galaxy, dimension y’all are from, but you need to leave.”

“Sorry, pendeja, we’re not here for you. This is obviously Spider-Man business, no?” The beefcake speaks, strolling towards you leisurely. His arms are crossed, horribly large things that strain under the fabric of his suit. You smile warmly at him, cocking your head.

“Mmh, no.” The smile drops, “I am Earth-616’s representative, not Spider-Man.”

“I work for her!” Peter points at you, nodding to the other Spider-People. You try not to cringe.

“That’s your problem, not mine. My problem,” he points behind you at the gaping hole in the city, “is that.” He’s closer to you now, absolutely looming over you, and it’s then that you realize how truly large he is. You’d always been on the smaller side of the scale, but his stature was all encompassing, his shadow engulfing you with no effort at all.

You watch as his eyes drift down to you, then back over your head at the pit, and with a little jingle on your watch, you’re prompted to bring your eyes to it, too. Your drones had arrived, and were making quick work of scanning the hole and surrounding areas.

“Don’t worry, little buddy,” you reach up and pat his arm - oh my God, he’s rock fucking solid, “I’m already taking care of it.”

He practically growls at you, “You don’t have the technology to take care of it; we barely do, and this is our specialty.”

“Was that supposed to sound impressive?” He grimaces, “It’s okay to admit that someone’s better than you.”

The scowl he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with some… little girl, okay? That hole could destroy your universe, do you understand? Now, step back and let us do our work.” You simply watch him as he steps past you to the ledge of the building, rocketing himself off of it. He flies for a minute, rather impressively, you might add, but it isn’t long before he approaches the hole and slams into something transparent, a ripple of blue emanating from where he collided with your drones’ protective barrier.

You turn to the other spider-people, who you can tell are trying to hold back laughter.

“Now, are we open to collaboration?”

Your house is so empty. Apartment, penthouse, whatever you want to call it, it was always the same when you got back. No laughter, no steps echoing through the hall, no glasses clinking in the kitchen. It’s just you and the ghosts of the life you’ll never get back.

So, when you enter the penthouse with a visitor in tow, the sound of his footsteps following close behind you - something other than the sound of your keys jingling and your ragged breathing - it almost feels alien to the space around you. This home wasn’t meant for people anymore; this was your silent prison.

But it’s comforting in a way. It feels familiar… melancholic.

“You’ve got this whole place to yourself?” He lets his eyes wander over the space as you lead him down the hall, past the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“Yup,” you say with a pop of the P, sounding characteristically unenthusiastic about it. What you wouldn’t give to have that be untrue.

“It’s not as fun as you’d think it would be,” you lead him down the stairs, down, down, down towards the lab. Your father’s lab, which you haven’t bothered to enter in so many months. You had let Sam and Rhodey take whatever they wanted, but you hadn’t bothered to look. There was nothing worth seeing down here, anyways.

“I know it’s not,” he replies like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like everyone knows what it’s like to be totally, truly alone like you, “the silence is… too much.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you simply type in your code, allowing the glass door to slide open for him. The room is big, much bigger than you remember but somehow suffocating all the same.

You realize after a moment that there isn’t a single suit left in the lab, and you wonder if they really needed them, or if it was some kind of kindness for you.

You elect to stop looking.

“Make yourself at home, big guy.” You say, making quick work of cleaning your desk by simply wiping it all onto the floor with a clang. You don’t know what it was going to be, nor do you care to - he wasn’t there to help you finish it, and you had more work to do than ever. “KAREN, pull up our data on the big hole, please.”

‘Our earlier scans indicate that the hole is actually a large concentration of Anti-Matter,’ her robotic voice thrums through the room, holograms of information popping up all around you, ‘our drones have managed to contain it for the time being, but it seems to be trying to expand within the barrier’s perimeters.’

“I have one of those, too,” Miguel says behind you, too close for comfort. His presence is all-encompassing, casting you in a shadow,

“A big hole?” You cock your head, and he only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“LYLA, pull up our data to compare.”

Another voice chimes as a little woman appears in front of you, a pout on her face.

“What, I don’t get a please? KAREN got one,” her eyes drift to you, “can I work for you instead?” Miguel just sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Now, please, LYLA.” She smiles, and your blue holograms are soon accompanied by orange, merging together in a technicolor lightshow in front of you both.

“A lot of this data actually overlaps,” LYLA says, flickering in and out of view all over the room, inspecting everything you have to offer, “but your drones missed a few key components.” She expands a few pieces, covering you in the orange light of her holos.

It’s times like these that you wish you really were Tony Stark’s daughter- then you might have a tiny bit of his intelligence to understand what was in front of you.

You’d figure it out eventually, though - you always do.

You can’t help but notice how much he looks at you. Your work had been rather silent so far, only small comments made when absolutely necessary on his part, but his eyes say more to you than anything else. Deep, dark circles that match your own, watching every move you make. Every bend, stretch, turn - his eyes are on you, tracing your delicate form.

You were well aware of the effect you have on men. Since you were young, much too young, you had known - you were the cover of Playboy at 16, Vogue and Cosmo in the following years, now too many to count. Teenage heartthrob (Y/N) Stark, just as wild and untamed as her father had been. At least, that’s always what they had said. You never tried to seduce anyone, but who wouldn’t want to be on their knees for a Stark?

Miguel, apparently, because every time you would catch his gaze he would avert it, avoiding your attention like the plague. He’s like a wild animal, cornered, threatened, by you. By your mere presence.

To be completely honest, it bothered you. Everyone wanted you, would try to take a bite whenever opportunity arose, so what was so special about him? Why wouldn’t he try?

If you know anything, it’s that men love the chase.

And yet he won’t chase you at all.

It’s… irritating, you decide, but a good challenge nonetheless.

“You know,” you say, breaking the silence. You find yourself approaching his workspace, feet moving without any real thought behind it.

“You look lonely,” your hand trails against the desk and he watches as it glides across the sleek metal, his shoulders tense but unmoving, “We could keep each other company.”

You’re in front of him now, his knees slightly spread as he sits, and you knock them with your own to make room for yourself, sinking in between the space he makes for you.

“(Y/N),” he practically growls, and you know he wants it just as much as you do. You know he doesn’t think he deserves it. You know it’s an act of self punishment, so you ignore it.

Your hand glides across the fabric of the suit straining against his thick, muscled thighs. You trail higher, higher up to the V of his hips and he releases a shuddering breath. Fingers searching until they find the button they’re looking for, allowing the lower half of his suit to release.

“Do you want me to?”

“Do you want me, too?” She asks him, her touch featherlight on his skin. She sets him ablaze, sending shivers wracking his body and a growing heat in his groin that he hasn’t felt in so long, save for lonely nights in his quarters, fisting himself shamefully in the shower and washing the evidence of his crimes down the drain. He needs it more than he’s willing to admit, and the way your voice echoes in his ears, soft and sweet and innocent. He can’t bring himself to tell you no, even though he knows you’d never ask him such a thing if you really knew him. But you want him, and it’s been so long since someone has wanted him, so he simply threads his fingers through your hair.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans.

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

You pull the waistband down, down until his cock springs out of its place under the fabric, the head already pink and dripping.

Jesus, he looks so large compared to you. Your hands barely fit around it, the length of it seemingly almost as big as your head. You were so small, though - everything about you was small, and yet you acted so much larger than life that he had forgotten how fragile you appeared to be. He can’t forget it now, though - not with the comparison right in front of him; not with the way you were on your knees for him.

You place small kisses against his length, moving ever higher and leaving a trail of spit behind that left him aching. You sent him a coy smile before you licked against his tip, precum smearing on your lips like gloss. You take the head in easily, tongue swirling across the slit in a way that makes his hips buck up, but you keep your composure, a small hand against his pelvis to push him back down.

He reaches for it, taking your wrist in his hand, which completely engulfs you.

“Muñeca,” he lets out a shaky sigh, “I know you can take it.” No more words are needed - he knows you understand with the way you gaze up at him, your jaw going slack and your tongue laying flat underneath his cock. He tightens the hand in your hair and pushes you down, thrusting deep into your throat. He keeps pushing, fucking into you like a fleshlight, feeling the warm wetness of it with every motion. He wanted to mould you to the shape of his cock, have you still feel the ghost of him every time you swallow, missing the feeling of choking on him.

You gag around him but stay lax, pliant - obedient. Those eyes, God, glossy and tearful, but wanting. You want this, him, you want him, you want him-

He pushes your head down to his pubes, holding you there as your throat constricts around him and he cums deep, an iron grip keeping you in place as he empties into you.

With a rough shove, you’re off his cock and you stumble backwards off your knees, catching yourself on your hand as you cough. He barely gives you a second before an impossibly large hand grabs your face, fingers pushing roughly into your jaw.

“Show me,” he commands, and you oblige without complaint, mouth open and tongue out with an aah.

“Mi niña buena, no? So hungry for my cum.” He says, and you have the audacity to smile, nodding with your eyes shut lazily, nuzzling slightly into his grip.

He can’t control himself a second longer.

He grabs you harshly by the arm, pulling you upwards into his lap and straight into a kiss. He can’t help but growl into it, too much teeth on his end but he needs to feel in control, like he can capture you with every swipe of his tongue into your mouth and every nip against your bottom lip.

He thinks he tastes blood.

His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up, claws digging into your soft, supple skin as he drops you on the desk, pushing you with a harsh hand against your chest. Your back hits the table, cold metal against the part of your skin unveiled by your shirt riding up high on your back.

Miguel doesn’t have time to undress you, no time for tenderness or patience. Instead, he rips at your shorts, his animalistic claws tearing through the fabric of both them and your undergarments, leaving you bare below the waist and he takes it all in eagerly, eyes scanning every part of your body. He pushes your shirt upward, exposing your breasts kept carefully under a plain, black bra. One swipe of a claw and that falls away, too, leaving you completely exposed.

You don’t even look embarrassed.

Miguel is the one falling to his knees now, coming face to face with your bare pussy like a man praying at the altar, and it’s with closed eyes and shaking palms that he buries himself into it, tongue lapping incessantly at your folds.

He eats like a starving man, tongue flicking against your clit over and over until your back is arching inches above table, white knuckling the edges of it as abuses your sensitive cunt.

The lust coursing through him threatens to tear him apart, so he braces himself with hands on your thighs, claws digging into the skin and leaving you with a hot pain to accompany the unending pleasure he’s giving you.

He sucks against your clit and your hand instinctively reaches for him, threading into his black locks and rutting against his tongue as you cum hard, harder than you ever have by yourself, alone in that room with your multitude of toys. Despite the many men you had been with, nothing could have prepared you for the beast that sits between your legs, eyes dark with a hunger that threatens to swallow you whole.

“Miguel, please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for - more, mercy, you aren’t sure, but his figure is looming over you in seconds, his cock already hard once again as he rubs the tip against your sopping wet entrance, slick sounds echoing in the room along with your pants.

“Gonna fill you up with my cock, chiquita. Fill you up and stretch you out. Fuck,” he bares his fangs and you moan, “you want it, baby? Tell me you want it.” He grabs you by the jaw again, fingers gliding across your blood stained lips. “Ask your papi real sweet like.”

You can tell he wants it just as much as you do, feeling the heat from his cock against you, his precum adding to the slick of your cunt, but you want to beg him, want to obey, so you oblige.

“Please, please, fuck, I want you inside me. Break me, Miguel, please.”

Break you - fuck, he could do that. Every part of his body threatened to; his sharp claws against your soft skin, strong grip and large hands on your delicate wrists, his towering frame over your own, much smaller one. He was Godzilla and you were fucking Tokyo.

His dick pushed into you entirely ungentle, his bestial tendencies apparent in everything he does. Your thighs are covered in scratches, some smeared with small lines of blood, and the constant mix of pain and pleasure makes your head spin.

He stretches you out thoroughly, his massive girth shoved into you inch by inch until he’s hilt-deep inside of you and you swear you can feel him in your womb.

He doesn’t waste any time, pumping in and out of you at a bruising pace, pulling you down to the hilt with every movement. You can barely think, head spinning, filled only with thoughts of the strong figure fucking into you like a dog in heat.

He’s so, so much bigger than anything else you’d ever had, and the way he stretches you open leaves your stomach in knots.

He’s in love with your pussy. The taste of you is like honey, your warmth engulfs his cock in a pleasure like no other- it’s like you were made for him.

He leans down and captures you into another kiss, broken up by your incessant moans with every thrust of him into your cervix. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time, and when he pulls out of the kiss and opts to leave trails of them along your neck, teeth nipping and gnashing at the skin they find there. Every part of this man threatens to consume you, and yet you give yourself up readily, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as you moan.

He growls against your shoulder and you feel sharp teeth pierce into you, deep searing pain that rips a cry out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. He fucks your through it, hard thrust after thrust until you feel him twitching inside you and he buries himself balls deep, cock pulsing as he fills you with cum.

Neither of you can bother to care about the implications.

He can’t help but stare down at you as you lay there, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded. You looked fucked, and it took everything in him to stop himself from fucking you again. Maybe he went too rough, he thinks as he stares at the bleeding bite on your shoulder and scratches littering your body, but when he pulls out and your pussy is gushing with your cum and his own, he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.

“You took it so well, (Y/N).” The sound of your name on his tongue pulls you out of your stupor and you can only respond with a groan, your hand rubbing against your eyes.

You needed a shower and a nap.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as he secures his suit back in place, the traces of your deeds only apparent on your soiled figure.

He presses a few buttons on his watch, and in a moment, a small, metal spider crawls out of it, making you furrow your brow as you watch him fiddle with it. Holding it by the leg, he holds it out to you, and you hold your palm up warily. It drops into your palm, skittering before settling itself in your grasp.

“All the data you need is compiled on that little guy. Try to take care of it, okay?” You nod, much too tired to speak.

Miguel’s eyes flit over you one last time, and the way his brow furrows leaves you wondering what exactly he’s thinking in that gorgeous head of his.

He takes one impossibly large step toward you, hand reaching for your face and it takes all your willpower not to flinch away from him. His grasp is gentle this time, thumb tracing against the soft curve of your jaw as he places a small, delicate kiss against your forehead.

“Take care, chiquita.”

And with that, he takes his leave, the light of his portal dimming as he exits, leaving you alone.

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #reader insert #x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader

260 notes · View notes

bartxnhood · 2 years

Text

dear devoted delicate | a.i

ashton irwin x reader

summary: ashton knew from the first time he met you, you were the one for him.

warnings: none !

a/n: this is kinda short but i do have some really good things coming up !! please stay tuned <3

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

ashton never thought about settling down and committing to someone. until he met you. the idea was always in the back of his mind but he never fulfilled it. he covered that thought with parties and constant touring. it kept him busy.

but when he met you when the world went on lockdown, everything changed.

he loved touring, but after being at home with you for so long, this tour was killing him. he couldn’t stand being away from you.

he’d message you every day, sometimes multiple times just to make sure you were okay being alone while he was across the world. even if you continuously told him you were fine, he still worried. he promised when he returned him that he would spend all of his waking moments with you.

and he did.

when ashton returned from the tour he booked a two-week-long trip to your favorite place. it was the most magic two weeks of your life.

swaying underneath the moonlight was something ashton had always dreamt of since leaving you. sure, he wanted to live a domestic life. especially after luke and sierra married.

he wanted that.

your head rested against his chest, causing ashton to feel butterflies. he had never felt love the way he felt it when he was with you. you had shown him that it was okay to be weak, and you had helped him through many hurdles. he was so in love with you, and that’s something he never thought he would ever know. what it felt like to be loved.

the way you hummed along to the music quietly made him adore you. but the thing he loved the most was just being able to hold you. no threats, no worries. just the two of you swaying to the music underneath the moon.

he loved holding you like this, you resting against him while he rested his cheek on your head. or planted a kiss or two on your forehead. for the first time, everything felt right.

“we should do this more” you blurted, raising your head to look up at him. ashton looked down, meeting your eyes. he nodded, “we should. i enjoy holding you” he admitted. you grinned, reaching up and kissing his lips softly. the both of you returned to swaying around the room. everything was perfect for him. this was the perfect way to spend time with the person he loved so much.

he thought that now would be a perfect moment to ask the question he has been burning to ask for years. ashton knew from the moment the two of you met you were the one. “y/n?” he started, as the music slowly began to fade.

“yeah?”

he took your hand in his, pulling away from the dance. this was the moment. “i love you, and i’ve known for years that you’re the one i want to spend the rest of my life with. i know i’m asking a lot from you, especially now that i’m gone a lot. I guarantee there'll be tough times.

I guarantee that at some point, one or both of us is gonna want to get out of this thing. but I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine, I'll regret it for the rest of my life, because I know in my heart, you're the only one for me.”

his heart was racing, he was so afraid of messing up or saying the wrong thing. he just wanted to be perfect for you.

“there is a lot of unsure in this world, but one thing I know for certain is I love you. I love you without knowing how or when or even from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride. I know the road to an "us" isn't going to be easy, but it's the only road I see.” he paused, reaching into his pocket fishing for the velvet box, and dropping to his knee.

“y/n l/n, will you do the honor of marrying me?”

your lip trembled, and your eyes burned to try to keep your tears at bay. “ashton… i..” you covered your mouth. “of course i will” you nodded, he gently slipped the ring on your finger and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“i love you so much, my dear.” he cried.

#ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin x y/n #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin #5sos x reader #5sos #5 second of summer imagines #5sos smut #5sos imagine #5sos fan fiction #5 seconds of summer x reader #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer

446 notes · View notes

osakiharu · 2 years

Text

DATING RINDOU HEADCANONS !!

[request]

content : gender neutral reader, fluff, bonten rindou <3, there’s not much to add here apart from swearing here and there and one mention of an injury i think :0

notes : this was longer than expected but this is what happens when you give me a request for one of my favourite characters <3

- 2nd best boyfriend according to wakui himself hello ??

- we all know rindou is treating you properly. if you’re dating rindou he’s gonna treat you right and how you should be treated in a relationship.

- he’s not one of the best boyfriends ever for nothing <3

- he makes it very clear that he doesn’t want you involved with his work if possible - you know exactly what he does, he just doesn’t want you being put at risk of getting hurt or even killed just because of the people he’s involved with

- so as much as he would love for you to come and surprise him every now and again and sit with him while he does work you’re not allowed :/

- the only way you really become involved with his work is when you’re patching him up after a mission because he doesn’t want anyone else to do it but you <3 why go to the hospital when he has his very own “cute little nurse” of his own?

- “you should wear- fuck, that hurts,” rindou groaned as you began to clean one of the deeper cuts on his chest, “you should wear one of those hot nurse outfits next time… just f’me, yeah?”

- he likes to take you to events / parties to do with the people he works with or if everyone agreed they’d go to the club later that night <3 - he’s happy with you meeting everyone he works with like mikey, koko, kakucho etc if you don’t already know them because he gets to show you off to them <3 he makes it very clear that you’re his though :0

- the whole time he’s got this smug look on his face until ran cracks a joke about him when you leave for a second - “they’re clearly being held hostage by rindou, why would they date him when i’m stood in front of them?” ran thinks he’s funny :/

- although rindou is very happy you and ran get along and like each other he knows he’ll never be able to escape his brother’s teasing

- really, he just loves going out with you regardless of where it is so everyone can see how pretty and wonderful you are <3

- keeps you an arm’s length away from sanzu though… he’s a little unpredictable idk he might pull a katana out his ass 🫶

- he’s pretty possessive of you :0 - it’s very much because he wants to keep you safe and away from harm, he’s not exactly worried about other guys anyways, as if they’d be able to win you over when they’re up against rindou haitani

- i don’t think other people would even get a chance at attempting to speak to you like that because he’s always there with an arm around you - he always has one of his scary glares that are enough to put even the bravest person on earth off from speaking to you

- he always makes sure to wear his rings when you’re all dressed up with him just in case he feels the need to beat someone up 🫶

- it’s not like rindou expects you to go off with anyone else anyways, he trusts you a lot and he knows you wouldn’t do something like that <3 (and he wouldn’t either mwah)

- expect a lot of dates (most of them make you wonder just how much money he has) <3 shopping sprees, fancy restaurants, you name it you’ve done it a million times already

- most of the fancy dates are planned by rindou or they’re rindou’s ideas so he always makes sure to listen to what you want to do when you have a little date idea or you wanna go somewhere (even if it’s not somewhere with a 5 star badge on it) <3

- he will do anything you suggest even if he’d never considered doing it himself (and even if he’s a little reluctant towards it he’ll still go and do what you want lmao)

- like if you wanna go to the cute little cafe you always walk past and get cake he’s down. if you simply just want to go on a walk to take photos of the sunset he’s happy with that too ! - he knows you enjoy all the expensive meals and the meters-long receipts from shopping sprees but he also just enjoys more quiet moments with the two of you together <3

- he still doesn’t understand why people like picnics so much though…

- in private rindou is a softie we all know this by now.

- lots and lots of cuddles <3 he will always take any free minute in a day you both have to just cuddle with you - he gets pretty busy and stressed because of work so he loves being able to hold you to his chest, hugging and kissing you or listening to you talking to him about whatever comes to mind so he can forget about literally anything else for a bit <3

- it’s pretty rare for him to be the one being held and kissed though - he prefers being the ‘big spoon’ and being the one holding you, it’s enough for him so if you want to be in his place you have to initiate it and do a bit of persuading

- he always enjoys it though <3

- he always cuddles up close to you when you go to sleep too - he doesn't care of it’s 100 degrees, you are sleeping on top of him or under his arm no questions asked.

- he likes physical affection a lot <3 he’s always kissing you and wrapping his arms around you, or little touches here and there - he finds that it comes naturally to him compared to other ways of expression and he hopes it says what he wants to say <3

- he will make out with you anywhere as long as there’s no one else around. he’s pretty sure you’ve made out in every room of the house multiple times (his favourite being the bedroom of course) and he’s slowly adding different places to the list

- likes his office at home too - if you come in to see how he’s doing, he’s grabbing you and sitting you on his lap kissing you until your lips hurt </3 he’ll keep you sat on his lap once he goes back to what he was doing - “you sit there, lookin’ pretty for me, angel, ‘m almost done.”

- he’s waiting for the day he lets up on the no-visiting-at-work rule so he can have you sat on his desk with his hands all over you when sanzu walks in <3 - rindou thinks sanzu has a little crush on you (he doesn’t, he’s just genuinely trying to be nice and making sure you’re not scared of him) and although he’s not fond of the idea of anyone but him seeing you like that, he’ll pass up on that situation just this once.

- “maybe i should just kill him, i can cover it up,” rindou sighs as he props his feet up on the coffee table, leaning his head back on the couch, “how’s he gonna sit here and flirt with you when he’s constantly following mikey around like the fuckin’ dog he is! isn’t mikey enough for him? see! he’d be a shitty boyfriend, that’s like cheating if you think about it, y/n!”

- rindou is the type to let you do anything to him. he’s the “anything for you” type (even if he kinda can’t be bothered)

- he likes it when you sit him down to show him what you bought when you were out with your friends ! it makes him laugh at how excited you are to show him everything and he gets you to try everything on so he can “see it properly” and get a good idea of how you like to dress so he knows what to buy you as a surprise

- “mhm, i like that one, too. looks real pretty on you, sweetheart.”

- yes. even the underwear. he’s not letting you get away without showing him those :0

- he lets you mess around with his hair and tie it up in all sorts of ways and it’s you’re lucky you might be able to sway him to let you put a tiny bit of makeup on him

- he tries to get you to work out with him in return but often you just end up sitting on his back or lying under him while he does push ups 🫶

- he does his best at taking care of you on bad days but he’s not the best at helping you :/ he’s better at attempting to distract you from whatever’s worrying you or dragging you out of bed rather than actually offering help - he would if he could but he doesn’t want to accidentally give shitty advice and make you feel worse :(

- “tell you what, baby, we can go and take a nap for a little, ‘n’ if you feel up to it we can go on a walk or watch a movie, yeah? that sound good? s’ gonna be okay, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

- but y’know :/ rindou has a short temper and gets in a bad mood easily especially if something manages to hit a certain nerve that day - some days he just can’t stand the people he works with and he swears the world teams up against him to piss him off and to give him the most difficult day possible

- and sometimes he just can’t shake off his sour mood before he gets home and you have to deal with the tail end of it :/

- he snaps at you on days like that - “bad day, rin?” “is it not fuckin’ obvious, y/n? fucking hell.”

- but it only lasts for a few minutes ! once he’s gotten changed and had a shower if he can be bothered he’s cuddling up next to you on the couch, kissing you all over and apologising <3

- “’m sorry, baby,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap, kissing your head, “shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, ‘s not your fault.”

- and rindou is forgiven because we know he’d never do anything to upset you or hurt you on purpose <3

- overall dating rindou is literally the best, he would do anything for you and he loves you so so much <3

981 notes · View notes

emhasthoughts · 7 months

Text

So we meet again

Before you read: Check @dcartcorner's Elsewhere AU as this is taking place around the first bit of bundle 17. This has only been proof-read by me with the help of the documents corrections. So sorry for any potential error in grammar or spelling.

Summary: His parents' refusal to leave had also been a cause of why he never visited the train station. Most of the time the train would simply go past the station and town, letting the people inside see part of it for a moment while kids would sometimes gather close to a fence or the station to watch it pass. This day was different.

The town Michael Crew lived in did not get a lot of visits. Sure, people would move in occasionally, retired couples or families that were simply too tired of the bigger cities and wanted something smaller. There had been moments when Mike was younger when he wanted to move to somewhere bigger. He had asked his dad once. ”There’s pollution out there. You won’t be able to see the stars. I thought you liked the stars?” Had been the response. By now Mike knew there was more than just stars keeping them from moving. Family, friends, traditions and memories. Memories had been a reason Mike once begged for them to move. For nearly an entire week after being struck by lightning. He had cried and begged to move, to never face Dominic again, to never see the field again, to never see the faces of those who knew what happened to that poor little eight year old. In the end it did not work.

His parents' refusal to leave had also been a cause of why he never visited the train station. Most of the time the train would simply go past the station and town, letting the people inside see part of it for a moment while kids would sometimes gather close to a fence or the station to watch it pass. This day was different.

It was a rather cold autumn afternoon. Mike stood alone on the platform, watching the sky go from blue to pink as he waited for the train. Wishing for the train to arrive quicker with each passing minute as his hands started to feel like ice. Eventually it did arrive. Letting one single person out before continuing its way to the next town.

The man was pretty much the opposite of Mike. Taller, not like it was much of a surprise, most of the other students in his class were taller than him by now. Hair black and tied into a bun, dressed pretty much only in black, tie, jacket, vest, shoes - did his trousers have a hole by the knee? The only exception was he white shirt and brown messenger bag.

”Hello." Gerard looked him up and down for a quick moment. "You haven’t changed much Michael.”

”Mike. As I’ve told you the last times we’ve spoken.” Gerard just hummed.

”Right, right.” He got out a pack of cigarettes, looking around for a moment. ”This had best be important, kid.” He continued. Putting one into his mouth. For a moment Mike considered making a comment about it, how it was bad for people around him having to breath in the smoke, not to mention the smell. But he held back. Not like they were in a crowd and Mike had gotten used to the smell thanks to his friend.

”I’m not a kid.” Gerard raised an eyebrow.

”What? You’re 18 yet?”

”Well… no-”

”There you have it, kid.” Alright, Gerard was really getting on his nerves now. He watched as Gerard lit his cigarette.

”Fine.” He sighed. ”Can we please just leave? I’m getting cold.”

”Sure, lead the way.”

Mike was regretting taking Gerard to the library. He was quite fond of the place. A perfect place to hide if things ever got too overwhelming. He also preferred Martin Blackwood over the rest of the staff. Sadly said man was being threatened by Gerard. Mike just hoped he would be allowed back.

#the magnus archives #gerry keay #mike crew #Elsewhere au #*yeets this out into the world*#while a lot of important scary lore tm is going on #i wanted to have 'so we meet again' in the actual fic but it didn't feel natural anywhere #so since i didn't have any other title it had to be there #i was so back and forth between keeping the library part or not #also this got so much shorter than i hoped...

36 notes · View notes

futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

Text

‘Staring’

Dr Strange x fem!reader

- oooooooh this one has me tense. all i write is smut, i know i need to switch it up but i can’t help it. i’m sorry if this ending is a little anticlimactic i came up with this just before i was about to sleep. help x

The Sanctum was darker than you thought it was- almost a warning for the forseeable, a reminder to expect the unexpected. Stephen was always unpredictable, a mysterious force of nature no one could really unfold: a mystical fog in this dreary shithole.

Then why did he call you to come and meet him?

Because of that kiss. That kiss of electricity and an unleashing of passion you didn't even know he had. Stephen knew he wasn't behaving, he was giving into impulses he was attempting to bridle; but how couldn't he? You were both alone, feeling this impossible amount of impatience in the air, your lips parted and all he could do was stare at them contemplating a choice: kiss you or leave you hanging? You were begging, though. Begging for a morsel, a scrap, like a dog at the dinner table and he loved it.

Stephen's brain fell out for his head but all the blood in his body was rushing to his dick; he ducked his head and leaned in and pressed his lips to yours- to coax you out and make sure that all of this was okay.. but you were simply ravenous. You were kissing him back with a fervour he simply had never experienced before and Stephen genuinely thought he wouldn't stop himself from fucking you right here, right now. But unfortunately to his dismay, he let go of you and unlatched his lips from yours. He muttered an 'I'm sorry' and left you unfulfilled, Stephen was filled with remorse already but he had to control himself. Once he got that single hit of you, it was all he could think of.

He was satisfied but still hungry.

Now you were here. Stephen couldn't wait out on you for any longer, he simply just couldn't resist you and now you were all he wanted. He was dreaming of you; you invaded his thoughts and now his dreams. Did this mean you were literally the girl of his dreams?

You called out his name but the Sanctum was just tipped out and empty, no one was here and you wondered if he was brooding elsewhere- the thought made you uneasy. Although, knowing how cunning and calculated he was he could slip out and find you at any moment. Letting yourself relax and go with the flow, you just wandered around like a lost little camper.

Taking the ancient space in with a careless wonder and ease. Your fingers traced the oak and metal, revelling in the complexities of such sacredness. Your steps followed up the grand staircase and you fell to the array of different rooms, examining and snooping around until you went into the room with the massive oak door, it's presence was intimidating- it was so obviously Stephen.

Creaking it open, the heaviness of the door was jarring but you slipped through, the room was darkened- only with a big window allowing moonlight to beam through and filling the corners up with ambience. The bed was big, too big to fit just one person.

Stephen watched you waltz in, so careless in your steps but intent with your movements at the same time, casual yet elegant. You didn't even notice him as he sat in the ancient antique chair, his resolve breaking as he waited in the corner of his room, fiddling with a pack of mints to absolve himself of his endless anxiety waiting for you. Stephen thought you looked miles beyond what perfect could conjure: you were wearing a cute little slip dress, heels, a bag and to his delight, no bra. He knew you were supposed to be going out tonight but you were here instead, at his beck and call when he asked for you- he smiled at the salacious thought. It just confirmed everything. Your glassy eyes flitted from corner to corner and when your gaze finally met his you let out a surprised gasp, clutching onto your thrumming heart to calm your lungs.

You felt your legs shake a little at the sight of him, Stephen looked as prepared as ever, not breaking as you were with every second you were near him. He may not show it on his exterior but he felt himself crumble at that flirty fucking look on your face.

‘’Don't do that. You scared me.’’ You breathed so sensually and Stephen felt himself lose his inhibitions already. Hell, did you not even understand how arousing you were? You leaned on the iron frame at the foot of his bed, tossing your bag to the ground in the process just waiting for him to make the first move.

‘’You're staring.’’ You remarked at his stern form.

‘’You're too beautiful.’’ Stephen said sincerely and it made you blush a light rose. ‘’I was thinking of you today.’’

‘’You were?’’ You asked in a weird sort of surprise that irked him. You tried to write that kiss as a one off, something that would never happen again- but maybe you were wrong.

‘’Wong told me my mind was wandering. I could see his mouth open and close but I couldn't hear a word he said.’’ Stephen found himself explaining how you've affected him so. Your impact upon him was so large it was interfering with his actual work and duties. He couldn't have that.

You opened your mouth to speak but your heart was lodged in your throat. it was clogging your breathing. Stephen's stare went from gratifying to that of pure darkness and longing, you were lost in the fascination of his words, attempting to understand what else could be tumbling out of that mouth too.

‘’I could smell you.’’ He mumbled even though he was concise with his words, hollowed eyed as he stared at you directly in those beautiful eyes. ‘’It was very distracting.’’

Your mouth didn't move, you just gaped at him- that confession of his making your body react in so many delicious ways.

‘’Mint?’’ Stephen offered with a distinctive chipper tone, brightened to just see you. You knew he was trying to make small talk and you honestly thought it was cute and endearing, words you never would associate with him of all people.

You gave him an agreeable yet flirty smile as you made your way over to him with small steps, stalking towards him like you had a plan even though you didn't. Stephen's eyes travelled up and followed the design of your perfect body. You stood infront of him, smiling down at his hard face so sweetly but you stood inbetween one of his legs- if you were any lower you wouldn't have been straddling one of those thighs. Hand flying up to the dispenser, you pried the mint box from his hands and threw it to the other side of the room.

Stephen was surprised at your callousness, your unrelenting confidence as his gaze unwavered from those brazen and wicked eyes.

Fuck.

Fuck, you were making it so difficult to hold back.

He didn't want to anymore.

He's waited enough.

He was hungry.

As you were about to turn away, Stephen's hands latched onto your waist desperately as he flew up from his seat. You struggled against him for a moment, completely taken aback by his eagerness and it wasn't until he gripped at the back of your neck, pulling a section of your hair along too as your face met with his. Stephen's aggression made electricity shoot down your thighs, it was the only constant you had with him.

‘’My hair.’’ You grunted at him, unsure of what else to even say- his gaze was so intimidating, terrorizing and it excited you to an immeasurable degree.

‘’Why are you playing so hard to get now?’’ Stephen whispered hotly into the skin of your ear, lips ghosting on the hammering of your pulse. It was almost laughable.

‘’You like it this way.’’ You responded, knowing how glaring his need for roughness was- the chase is what sent him into overdrive and it was as clear as day. ‘’Sit down.’’ Your order was jarring and it made him quirk a questionable eyebrow but he only found that you were deadly serious.

‘’Sit back down.’’ Repeating yourself seemed to get the job done, Stephen lowered himself and sat back down in his seat- unsure of where all of this was actually leading to.

Every single cell inside of him just wanted to strip you and fuck you on the floor to teach you a lesson to not tease him.

But you were. And he was letting you.

He had waited all day and now you're forcing him to wait more.

You sauntered over to the iron frame at the front of his bed again and you leaned against it- taking your sweet, sweet time in the process. You fiddled with the straps of your dress, making sure to maintain that deliberate eye contact with him; the hard and unkind expression on Stephen's face telling you he wasn't impressed.

Good.

In a swift movement, you let the fabric fall down and pool at your heel clad feet. Your nipples hardened under his dark survey and his eyes raked over your body like an animal, he felt so incredibly dirty but it was always you that got him this way. Your hair tumbled down and your skin was aglow and lit by the pale moonlight cascading through: you were a jewel. Exemplary. A fucking tease, nonetheless.

Stephen twiddled his thumbs. The pads of his fingers grazing against each other as he sat and waited for this little game of yours to be done. His face contorted into a scowl. His mind uneasy and impatient, tense with the way you were simply audacious- the one with all the control. The control you took from him. His need to possess you clouds his better moral judgement, Stephen shot up and rushed to get his hands on you.

You gaped up at him like a pathetic idiot as Stephen felt like the ache between his legs was about to drop off at any moment. He grabbed you by the hair and pushed you onto the bed face up, a wholly unexpected thrill started to unfurl within you- this is exactly what you've been craving from him since that first kiss. Your yelp was helpless, it echoed through the air that he breathed and relished, you were as important to him as oxygen.

Stephen hated the way he needed you so badly, it crippled his resolve and it dampened his brovado but he couldn't help himself. He kneeled between your legs, watching that pretty face fill with wonder and curiosity; he couldn't wait to wreck you completely.

‘’You've fucked me up.’’ Stephen muttered under his breath, eyes dim and determined as his hands had a mind of their own. Feeling you beneath his rough and apathetic palms, you responded so delightfully by the way you arched into him. He leaned into your ear. ‘’You're fucking malicious. Teasing me when I've been waiting for you since that first fucking kiss.’’ Stephen grabbed you by the cheeks, smooshing them together as he made you stare into his eyes.

‘’You were the one that left me so your point is suspect.’’ You retaliated and to his unease, you were right- he hated that he left you.

‘’Would you have preferred me to fuck you then and there?’’

‘’Yes. Because you're not fucking me right now.’’

Stephen spanked your ass at that abrasive bratty attitude, you didn't even realise that it was you that had him at the palm of your hand. It was almost cruel the way you couldn't see how affected he was by all of it. He reached behind his back and pulled at his shirt to get it off, you gawked at the rippling muscles and the bulk of his biceps. This is the man that wanted you. The man that waited for you. Was it unreasonable to assume you felt like the luckiest person on the planet? You came here not knowing his intentions, cancelling plans you had in preparations for weeks just because he asked you here and now here you are.

Your lips slammed onto his. It was a crash. A shatter. A hit. More potent than the last time. It was pulverizing. His tongue glazed over your lips to open up for him and he got high off of the taste he only had a few fleeting moments to mingle with. Now, he had you all to himself. Alone.

He was beginning to question his sanity when your fingers flew into his hair and tugged hard- he was in total fucking agony. He was so hard and so ready to just let himself go on a fender bender. stephen's hands drifted to the hem of your underwear and discarded it as quick as the speed of light itself. You were completely bare under him and he relished the sight, the body he had been imagining for too long.

You were done with the idle overthinking, your hands flew to his zipper and he aided you in getting his pants off. stephen's eyes were resolute and steadfast, contemplating every move you made as they connected again.

"You're staring.’’

Stephen wanted to laugh. Repeating the same sentiment as he was enduring his torture, the torture you were inflicting upon him like a strange sort of punishment. His cock slapped against your thigh, the girth was just unbelievable, the thickness unfathomable- of course he has the libido and sexual prowess of an aphrodesiac. It was all a little too unrealistic.

‘’I'll stare for as long as I please.’’ He grunted lowly, huskily, hotly.

He intertwined his fingers with yours as he pushed inside of you, accomdating to the best of your ability, clamping around him as he started the thunderous beginning of a cycle of insurmountable pleasure in a deep black abyss. Stephen hit that spot within you that saw stars in the darkness of night, like fireworks ontop of fireworks. Lips ghosting against lips, it felt as if this very moment was fate. His hands worked all over you, pinching at your nipples and clamping over your neck. You looked so beautiful like this, all fucked out as he jolted in you. Yelling obscenities in your ear, he knew that you were close.

Already? His ego boosted tenfold as he stared at your face to study your reaction.

‘’Quit staring!’’ You practically screamed.

He didn't respond, he just shoved his fingers in your mouth as he rutted into those final times until it made you come undone.

You gagged and tried to yell around his fingers, but they were blocking your vocal chords and he knew it. As you exploded around him, his face held a salacious smug twinge and it only made your eyebrows tense in pure agony.

‘’That's it...pace it out...good girl.'’Stephen cooed.

He came inside you with a gutteral groan that echoed through his soul, every chamber of his body being affected by you and only you. He felt completely and utterly spent, you sucked up all his energy even though he had the sex drive of a maniac. How did that add up? Stephen planted a kiss on your lips, to his dismay, he had to pull out of your warmth and it took a lot of willpower for him to achieve that but he finally rolled beside you, breathing like an idiot as he gawked at you again.

‘’You're staring.’’

#dr stephen strange #dr strange angst #dr strange fluff #dr strange x fem!reader #dr strange x y/n #stephen strange smut #dr strange smut #stephen strange #doctor strange smut #dr strange oneshot

132 notes · View notes