#[ He wanted to voice his opinion on the matter ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

all4aoki · 3 days ago

Text

᱖ NOW PLAYING . . . Love Hangover Jennie

۫ ੭̲ SOMMARiE Valentine’s week is always a marathon for you, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

ׁ 𝑝oly!ot7 𝐸N- x f!reader ׅ ౨ৎ 𝓦c 6.1k ! & 𝓒w kissing, suggestive in Sunghoon’s & Heeseung’s part, YN accidentally burns herself, overall sleepiness, me guessing stuff about being an idol, not proofread ! ࿁ ⠀ ˚ BiBLiOTHÈQUE

📄 happy valentine’s day my loves! ♡︎♡︎

©all4aoki, 2025

You’d always loved Valentine’s Day. It never mattered if you hadn’t had a valentine, or had no plans surrounding the holiday, because the concept of the celebration of love was precious to you. Everything about the holiday was perfect in your opinion: the colors, the decorations, the food—all of it. And as the years went on and you finally had the privilege of celebrating with not just one, but seven of your soulmates, Valentine’s Day got even better. However, Valentine’s week was a bit of a marathon for you.

Jungwon had never understood why you never let any of them past the threshold of your room while you were getting ready, but as he stood in the door frame now, he knew. Because watching you get yourself dolled up to go on a date with him had him wanting to burst into your room and ruin the lip gloss you were smearing over your full lips. The warm lights of your vanity reflected onto your skin beautifully, and the flattering neckline of your white dress made your neck look extremely kissable–

“Don’t even think about it.” Your soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts instantly. Your shining eyes meet his as you begin putting in your earrings, and Jungwon feels his heart melt a little.

He grins, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The way you tilt your head and how your neck flushes a deeper shade than your usual skin tone reminds Jungwon of why he loves teasing you so much. Seeing you flustered was so utterly adorable. But the small sigh that escapes you as you look back at your appearance in the mirror has him furrowing his eyebrows. Jungwon pushes off the door frame, crossing his arms as he enters your bedroom. This time, you don’t make any protests, which only makes his concern grow.

Jungwon leans down, carefully wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as his chin comes to rest on your shoulder. He’s careful to not mess up your hair that you’d spent so long curling. “What’s wrong?” The smell of your perfume, the same vanilla one you’d been using for years now, is comforting, and Jungwon has to stop himself from pressing his nose against your skin. Instead, he keeps eye contact with you in the mirror.

Your hands come up to hold onto his forearms, the texture of the beige sweater he’s wearing soft under your fingers. “Nothing,” you reassure as you shake your head a little, “I just spaced out for a second.” Jungwon doesn’t seem to buy it though, the slight scrunching of his nose cluing you in.

“I know this week is gonna be busy for you… since you’re spending time with all of us. Individually–”

“It’s fine, Won, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say as one of your hands moves to cup his cheek. “It might be tiring, but I want to give each of you the love you deserve.” That seems to do it, though, and you can see the way he visibly relaxes at your words.

“You’ll tell us if you need a break?”

You nod, but a part of you knows that even if you do get tired, the excitement and love would overpower that. This week and Valentine’s Day was about love, and you wanted to give all of your love and energy to your favorite people in the world.

“Good.” Jungwon smiles as he slowly stands up straight again. He offers you his hand, and you quickly turn off the lights on your vanity before you take it. His much larger palm closes around yours and a small rush of electricity goes through you from the contact. “Let’s get going then. Don’t want to be late for our reservation.”

Straightening out your skirt, you get to your feet. “All ready. M’excited,” you say with a grin. But when you raise yourself on your toes a little to kiss his cheek, your lips meet the back of his other hand.

“Can’t mess up your lip gloss, doll.”

The date with Jungwon is nothing but perfect and both of you return to the dorms with adorable pieces of pottery. Well, Jungwon’s is a little questionable, but he’d themed it around you and he was the one who made it, so it was flawless in your eyes. And you wondered, why had you been so worried about this week being draining? After spending the night with Jungwon, you’d felt refreshed and your heart was full of happiness. Just as the holiday intended it to be.

So, you were carrying an air of confidence with you as you sat across from Sunghoon at a restaurant the both of you frequented. It was on the fancier side, but when you both were in the mood for something a little more romantic, this place was always your first choice. The dim lighting and warm glow of candles on tables reminded you of how romantic your boyfriend could be. It was a side Sunghoon didn’t show often, but it was always there.

“Did you like the flowers?” he asks as you sip at the red Chateau Margaux wine you’d decided to indulge in that evening. Neither of you were big drinkers, but it felt fitting with the intimate atmosphere. Sunghoon was referencing the large bouquet of pink roses currently sitting in the car that was parked in the parking lot. At the thought of them, you feel your cheeks warm and your heart stutters with giddiness.

You nod, “Roses are the most Valentine’s flower you could get.” He lets out a small scoff that’s definitely a laugh in disguise. As he smiles, you can see his little fangs and the urge to kiss him comes over you.

“I know they’re not your favorite, but I thought they were fitting.”

“I love them,” you reassure as you twirl your fork around in the pasta you’d ordered. Sunghoon had gotten some kind of steak and you could smell it from across the table. His chocolate-colored eyes notice the way your own eyes linger on his dinner and he laughs softly.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you watch him cut off a small piece of his steak before offering the fork to you. When you don’t move, he tilts his head in a gesture for you to take it. “Have a bite. I can practically see you drooling.”

“I am not drooling,” you protest, but you take the fork anyway. The steak is as divine as it smells. Much better than your pasta.

“Maybe not over the food…” With the way he trails off, you can tell what he’s implying and you resist the urge to throw the silverware you’re holding at him. Sunghoon grins cheekily at the angry expression on your face and how you can’t respond as you finish eating your bite. “You want to switch dishes, don’t you?”

You tried to school your facial expressions, but in truth, you did kind of want to. “That’s your food, Hoon, I’m not gonna take it from you–” Before you can finish your sentence, his pale, large hands are already swapping your plates. You swallow harshly, stomach doing flips at how caring he is. “You don’t mind?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, “Tonight is all about you.”

And he made that clear in more ways than one.

A sharp breath leaves you as your back meets the wall beside the door to Sangmi and your dorm. She was out with Intak. They probably hadn’t begun their own Valentine’s celebrations yet, but if you could remember correctly, he was asking her to be his Valentine tonight. But you couldn’t exactly think clearly thanks to Sunghoon’s lips on your neck.

The light drag of his teeth against the delicate skin sends a shiver through your body, and your hands grip his biceps over the blazer he’s wearing tightly. When he lightly bites down on a sensitive spot he’s well acquainted with, you yelp quietly, pressing your body to his. Sunghoon’s nose nudges under your jaw as he pulls away. No doubt his eyes are lingering on the red mark sitting on your neck now. Once he deems it good enough, his lips are on yours.

His movements are passionate and desperate, clearly not patient enough to wait to get you to your bedroom. Instead, his tongue slides past your lips. He deepens the kiss, one of his hands on your face tilting your head back to give him better access. His other hand grips the skirt of your dress, beginning to pull it up your thighs.

“Bedroom,” Sunghoon mumbles against your lips as he hikes your dress over your hips. Thankfully, you make it to your bed before your panties hit the floor.

The next morning, it’s hard for you to get out of bed. At first, you wake up slowly, the mid-morning sunlight filtering in through the curtains and caressing where your and Sunghoon’s bodies are tangled together in bed. You’d only gotten a few hours of sleep that night for… certain reasons, but when your eyes finally fluttered open, you didn’t expect it to be past noon.

“Shoot,” you mumble, fully sitting up in your bed as you notice all of the text messages from Riki. You were supposed to meet up with him an hour ago for his Valentine’s date. Sunghoon shifts next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he buries his face in your lap. Halfheartedly, you run your fingers through his hair to try and keep him asleep while you text Riki back.

Riki I’m outside your dorm. Let me in

You sigh softly as your fingers slow in Sunghoon’s hair. “Hoon,” you whisper as you set your phone down, turning your full attention to the man still asleep in your lap. “Hoon,” you repeat a bit louder. You just get a small hum in response. “Let go, baby, I’ve gotta go see Riki.” This time, Sunghoon lets out a hesitant grumble before loosening his arms around your waist. You smile softly and lean down to press a gentle kiss to his hair. “Stay in bed as long as you want…”

Ignoring your soreness and the heaviness in your eyes, you slip out of bed and quickly shrug on a random sweater and some jeans after replacing your undergarments from the night before. It was probably best to let Riki into your dorm first… then fix the rest of the mess Sunghoon had made you from the previous evening. Wincing a little, you did your best to exit your bedroom without making a sound, and your steps moved faster once you reached the door.

Riki’s tall frame appears as you swing the door open and as he opens his mouth to speak, you hastily press a finger to his lips. He tilts his head in confusion before his eyes find your neck and a look of realization fills his expression. Your face flushes from embarrassment.

“Sit on the couch. I’ll be quick,” you whisper to him as you let him into your dorm. Sluggishly, you go through your morning routine and apply a hefty amount of concealer. Both to the red bruises on your neck and to the dark circles under your eyes. After about another twenty minutes, you and Riki finally leave the dorm building.

You hold onto his arm tightly as the two of you walk through the streets of Cheongdam. “I’m sorry I slept late, Ki… I swear I had an alarm set.”

A laugh leaves him. “Must’ve slipped your mind from all of the fun you were having last night–”

“Nishimura Riki!” you exclaim, cheeks and neck warm from his teasing. Letting out a small huff, you still keep a firm grip on his arm. “Don’t say stuff like that in public…”

“Sorry, princess, you just look so funny when you get all embarrassed–” You cut him off with a soft smack to his arm. “Hey!” Riki whines. “I’m taking you shopping and in return I get hit?”

“Please, I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

The first store he takes you to is Chanel. While Riki isn’t a huge fan of the brand himself, he knows that you like a lot of their pieces. Maybe he could justify picking out and buying you a few things since you liked Chanel. He thought you’d be more excited about looking around, especially since he’d booked a VIP experience, but you still hadn’t moved from his side.

It was almost like you were leaning on him for support, like you were too tired to stand up by yourself.

“Ooh, Riki-chan, look at this dress,” you breathe, and–maybe he’d just been overthinking the way you were clinging to him. After all, you were often very touchy with him. And if something was wrong you’d tell him, right?

He looks at the dress you’re talking about, a rather simple and pretty black one. Strapless with a flowy skirt and a white rose on the center of the neckline. It would fall to about mid-thigh on you. “You should try it on. I want to get you some things today,” he says and, as expected, your wide eyes find his.

“You don’t have to buy me anything! I’m just glad I get to spend time with you.”

Riki tilts his head as his full lips raise into a small smirk. The sight has your heart racing. “If I want to buy you something, I’m buying you something.” He moves away from you, leaving you standing next to the dress. He’s probably going to look for more articles of clothing to make you try on. “Consider it payment for ditching me for Sunghoon-hyung this morning.”

“You–!”

Your youngest boyfriend ends up buying you quite a bit that day, most of them his selections of what you looked best in after modeling each piece he’d picked out for you. By the time you get back to the dorms, your feet hurt and your lack of sleep from the night before is catching up to you.

As you lay in Riki’s bed with him, cuddled closely to his side as a random movie plays in the background, your mind goes back to how many more dates you would have to go on this week. Excluding Valentine’s Day itself. You felt guilty for dreading the number of activities you would participate in, after all, you were an idol. You should be used to having so many energy-draining things to do in a day, much less a week. But the combination of your schedules and the time you were dedicating to your boyfriends, you were already feeling exhausted.

You drift off to sleep before the movie’s even a quarter of the way through.

Part of you is thankful, though, since you have to get up early the next morning for a schedule. With much-needed sleep and cuddles from Riki, you thought you’d be up and bursting with energy the next day, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. He had to practically drag you out of bed and to the bathroom for you to try and put yourself together a little. You weren’t sure why you were so tired, but you refused to let your body be the reason you weren’t able to follow through with all of your plans for the week.

It was Valentine’s Day week for goodness sake.

You had to keep reminding yourself that as Jake showed up just as you finished changing out of your clothes from the photoshoot you’d wrapped up. His big smile and excited eyes only make your guilt grow, and in turn, you push the thought of staying in for the night away.

“If only I was two seconds earlier,” he says as he enters your dressing room. He had knocked, and Jake was only teasing about seeing you indecent.

You playfully roll your eyes as you grab your bag from the table it’s sat on. “Not today, Sim.”

“I know, I know,” Jake laughs as he offers his hand for you to take. You quickly grab onto it and he squeezes your hand in his softly. “How was the shoot?”

Tiring. “It was good. They had me sit in water at one point and it was cold.”

He leads you out of the dressing room and towards the exit of the building. “Well, I can’t wait to see the results. I’m sure they’ll be amazing as always.” It was so sweet the way Jake always knew how to cheer you up. If you were feeling down, even for the stupidest of reasons, he made sure that you knew your feelings were valid and then followed up by distracting you in some way.

And while you weren’t feeling down today, you definitely weren’t feeling your best. But Jake was there like always, and this time for your Valentine’s date, he brought you to an arcade.

His eyes light up almost as bright as the neon lights from the various screens when he sees the variety of games, only for you to drag him over to the claw machines.

“Think you can win me a plushie today?” Jake’s track record wasn’t great. There were only two stuffed animals in your room from claw machines. He hadn’t won either of them. His lips press together in a determined expression and you giggle at the sight.

“Laugh all you want, angel, but you’re gonna be leaving with an armful of the goods.”

“Don’t call them that.” So while spending an obscene amount of money on tokens wasn’t Jake’s first idea for a date with you, he was still overjoyed to do it.

You walk ahead of him with the bowl filled with tokens he’d just purchased, taking him back over to the claw machines. “Okay… Which one d’you want?” You hand him the tokens before turning to the many options of plushies. A polar bear, some kind of snowman, a duck… When your eyes land on an orange cat your finger presses up against the glass.

“That one. The orange tabby.”

Jake scoffs. “If you wanted a cat, you should’ve brought Jungwon.” He pushes two of the tokens into the slot and the machine blares to life. The loud music and glaring lights immediately attack your senses, but you do your best to shake it off.

Your boyfriend steers the toggle with precision. Jake’s aim was good, but it depended if the claw machine wanted to cooperate today or not. And as the dog plushie is dropped one, two, three, four times, you figure that the machines aren’t in the mood to comply. You reach to pull at Jake’s sleeve. “Let’s go do something else.”

He shakes his head, his brown eyes locked on the treasures inside the glass as his fingers work over the joystick again. “No. I’m gonna win you something this time.”

“That’s sweet Jake, but don’t you want to go play some games–”

“I want to win you something.” His mouth presses into a thin line as he barely misses the dog plushie. “Wanna put two more tokens in for me?” You sigh, but you push the two coins into the machine, the lights and music roaring to life again.

The neon colors were beginning to make your head hurt as you leaned against the glass, the coolness doing little to wake you up as you made sure to stay out of the way so Jake could see what he was doing. Your eyes flutter. Maybe you could close them for a second to give them some relief? Jake was very focused on earning this stuffed animal for you anyway. You don’t even realize it when your eyes fully close, and the loud music and other sounds from the arcade do little to keep you present.

Only when Jake cheers victoriously, are you snapped out of the half-conscious state you're in. Your vision is blurry with sleep as your boyfriend squats down to retrieve the plushie before he holds it up for you to see. The excited smile on his face makes you feel guilty, considering it does little to push your exhaustion away.

Despite your attempts to match his enthusiastic smile, Jake notices your weary expression. His eyebrows furrow in concern and the grin drops from his lips as he lowers the plushie. Jake’s free hand comes up to rub your arm in a comforting manner. “You okay?”

You were most definitely not okay. You had never fallen asleep while doing an activity before, much less going on a date. And since Jake cared for you, he shared this information with the rest of your boyfriends, much to your dismay.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Heeseung asks you as he kills the engine of his car in the park’s parking lot. It’s hard to not be a little annoyed with the constant questions if you were okay. You knew that they were coming from a good place, that your boyfriends were just worried about you, but you had promised them you’d tell them if something was wrong. That thought is bitter to you as well, but you didn’t see getting small amounts of sleep as something that was concerning. What would be concerning is if you weren’t able to celebrate the literal holiday of love with them.

You reach across the center console to hold his hand. “I’m okay. If anything, I’m ready to watch this movie with you.” Heeseung’s doe eyes narrow at your words and you were hoping that he’d believe you. “I’ve always wanted to watch a movie from a projector.”

He sighs softly, his free hand coming up to rub at his face a little before he gives in. “Fine. But you’re not carrying anything. And I’m setting it all up.” Like that was a threat.

“That works for me,” you giggle as you let go of his hand and undo your seatbelt to hop out of the passenger’s seat.

True to his word, Heeseung somehow managed to carry the picnic basket the two of you had packed along with the box for the screen and the portable projector all at the same time. You’d teased him about his scrawny arms. He’d threatened to drive you back home. But you both had found a free spot in the grass to set up.

“Is it still crooked?” he asks as he sits next to you on the pink blanket you’d laid out. You had busied yourself with eating some of the chocolate strawberries Heeseung had bought while he had set up the movie.

You shake your head. “Just leave it. It looks good. Besides, I want to cuddle.” Heeseung laughs.

“We’re in public.” True, yes, but it was nighttime and there was hardly anyone in the area you’d picked. “Don’t want someone thinking we’re a weird PDA couple.”

“Oh please,” you scoff softly as Heeseung still moves to let you rest your head on his shoulder. Neither of you are paying attention to the movie, but the speaker on the projector sucks, so you can barely hear it anyway. “If either of us is a fan of PDA it’s you.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m taking other people’s eyes into consideration…” he trails off as you look up at him. A small shudder goes through you as his thumb comes up to wipe at the corner of your mouth. “You’re a messy eater.”

Your face warms at both the action and his words as you look back at the projector screen. “The strawberries are good.”

“Maybe I would know if you’d left some for me.”

Movies this week were apparently your worst enemy. Apart from sleep, of course, but each time that you watched one, you felt yourself lulling into a state of unconsciousness. This time though, you were determined to not fall asleep. But it’s easier said than done as you feel your eyelids begin to droop maybe halfway through.

Heeseung’s a small help, whispering in your ear and sending shivers through your nerves as he comments on the main character’s choices, but it’s still difficult for you to follow along with the storyline when you simply don’t care. Your breath hitches when he tucks his face into your neck, his nose pressing against your skin as you hear him inhale softly.

And when his lips brush against your pulse point, the kisses have the opposite effect that he intends them to have. It’s relaxing, the soft tickling sensation, and when Heeseung pulls away to have his lips find yours, your sleeping face greets him instead. It would be funny if he wasn’t so worried about you.

“I really am fine,” you try to convince your boyfriends as you all sit in the living room on the second floor of the dorms.

Jake gives you a look. “If that were true, you wouldn’t fall asleep while Heeseung-hyung’s trying to make out with you–”

“That’s beside the point,” you interrupt him, a small sense of embarrassment rushing through you. Last night hadn’t been your greatest moment, and while you felt horrible about it, Heeseung had assured you that it was okay. Only after saying ‘I told you so’, though. “The point is that there’s no difference from this week and every other week in my life. I’m always busy.”

“But you’ve never been this tired before,” Sunoo points out as next to you, Jungwon wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Sunoo-ie has a point. Maybe you should just stay in tonight,” Sunghoon suggests and you shake your head frantically.

“No! I’m not letting a little bit of tiredness ruin my Valentine’s week with you all.” You sigh softly as you watch Riki lean against one of the decorative tables next to the couch. “I want to give you all the love you deserve…”

Jay shakes his head from where he’s standing. “We don’t want you to be putting yourself at risk for us though. Even if it is just sleep, your body needs rest, YN-ie.” You huff. He’s right, of course. “There’s nothing wrong with staying in.”

“But I’ve been looking forward to my baking class with you all week,” you complain, feeling frustrated with yourself. “Eunchae-ssi said that the teacher we’re supposed to go see is really nice.” Each of the boys smiles a little at your whining.

“We can always reschedule, angel,” Jay reminds you, but you shake your head again.

“No, this place is popular… Please, Oppa, I want to go.”

You watch as Jay exchanges a look with Heeseung and you hate how it feels like you’re asking if it’s okay for you to go out and do something with them. You understand why, but you still don’t like it. After a moment, Jay meets your eyes again. “Alright. Let’s go. But we’re gonna go to bed early tonight, okay?”

Your heart races with relief as you nod excitedly, squeezing Jungwon beside you in a small hug before you stand. “Okay!”

The baking class starts fine. Jay and you had decided on making molten lava cookies, to satisfy both of your cravings for chocolate, and Eunchae had been right about how sweet the teacher was. She was able to instruct you both while giving you enough space to still have a bit of time just with each other. Problems only begin to surface again while you wait for the cookies to bake.

The teacher had stepped away for a moment to get you all some water, leaving you and Jay alone in the kitchen. You watched him fondly with half-open eyes as he began to wipe down the counter.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. It’s not your job to clean up the workspace.” The corners of his lips tilt up at your statement. The rag in his hands is dropped onto the counter as he glances at you and your sleepy expression.

“I don’t mind doing it. Figured it would help her out considering how messy we got.”

“That was all your doing, by the way.”

Jay laughs, “Sure angel. You totally weren’t the one to spill the flour because you couldn’t keep your eyes open.”

“Hey!” Your giggles are cut off when the timer on the oven goes off. Both of you look over to the oven and Jay moves to shut the timer off. “We should probably take them out so they don’t burn. Our teacher wouldn’t mind, right?” you ask as you shuffle over to lean against Jay’s side.

“She shouldn’t. Most people don’t enjoy eating burnt cookies,” he chuckles as he reaches for the oven mitts. You blink slowly, mind a little fuzzy as you grab them before he can.

“Let me. I feel like I haven’t been any help at all.” Jay lifts his hands in mock surrender as he moves to the side a little, giving you the room you need to get the sheets out of the oven. Carefully, you open the door of the oven and remove the two pans full of chocolate cookies. With the pans safely placed on the top of the counter, you remove the oven mitts and Jay turns off the oven.

The door to the kitchen swings open as the teacher enters again. “Oh, it smells so good in here!” In her hands are three glasses of water, and your boyfriend being the gentleman he is, rushes over to help her set them down. Your heart softens at how kind he is, but as you move to lean against the counter, your hand seeking the surface, a red-hot pain shoots up through your nerves, making you cry out softly.

Jay’s by your side in an instant, and you would almost feel bad for how he’s running back and forth in the kitchen if it wasn’t for the stinging your skin was feeling. He coos gently as one of his hands finds the small of your back, steadying you.

“Let me see, angel.” Hesitantly, you hand him the palm you’d burned on the still-hot cookie sheet. Jay tuts softly and you know you’re in for a scolding later. “You need to be more careful.” Or right now.

Thankfully, the teacher has aloe for even minor burns like these, and Jay helps you run your hand under cool water from the sink, caring as ever. “I am careful,” you protest quietly to Jay as the teacher retrieves the medicine for the barely there burn. “I’m just… tired.”

An immense weight was lifted off your shoulders as you finally admitted it, and the confession received the reaction you were expecting. Because the next day, Valentine’s Day itself, your boys had decided that instead of your one-on-one date with Sunoo, you would be spending the evening at the dorms, resting.

At least you were able to spend some time alone with Sunoo, though.

“I can’t believe I’ve been put on house arrest,” you mumble as he stands between your legs while you sit on the counter. He’s trying a new serum on you tonight, part of his Valentine’s present for you. Sunoo’s fingers gently massage the skin of your cheeks as he works the product into your pores.

“Should put you on house arrest more often. Seems like you can’t figure out what’s best for you–”

You smack his shoulder playfully, making Sunoo laugh. “I’ve learned my lesson.” You suck in a breath between your teeth. “I forget how much burns can hurt.” Sunoo’s laugh fades and is replaced with a look of worry.

“Does it still hurt a lot?” With a tight-lipped smile, you shake your head. The counter is cool under your legs and goosebumps rise on your thighs since you’re wearing pajama shorts instead of pants.

“Just a little. It’s still red. See?” You offer him your injured hand and Sunoo carefully takes it.

“Let’s put some more lotion on it. It’ll help it cool down.” He lets go of your hand, but you keep it raised as he moves to grab the cooling lotion Jay had purchased for you on your way home from the baking class yesterday. It’s like he’s handling a porcelain doll as your raven-haired boyfriend massages the lotion into your hand. His eyes never leave the red mark on your palm as your eyes never leave his face.

“Thank you for putting up with me,” you say softly. “I should say that to all of you… I’m sorry for not telling you all how tired I was, I just–” A heavy sigh escapes you as Sunoo’s eyes meet yours. “I just wanted this week to be perfect. You all do so much for me and I wanted to give you all of my time and love in return.”

Sunoo’s thumb brushes over your palm again. “You already do that every day. We all know how much love and care you put into your relationship with each of us… And we’re so grateful, princess.” He carefully lifts your hand to his lips, kissing the burn mark gently. “This week– this Valentine’s Day is perfect because we’re all together. No amount of missed dates could ever affect that.”

It’s hard not to feel like crying from his words, and your heart is touched by how Sunoo soothed you. Just like the cooling lotion on your burn. “Thank you, Sun.”

“Of course, princess,” he says as he helps you remove the pink skincare headband and then helps you off the counter. “Let’s join the others before they start getting crabby, hmm?” You laugh softly as you nod. Sunoo guides you out of the bathroom and back into the living room.

They’d gone all out in terms of decorating the second floor’s dorm. Cushions and blankets covered the ground in front of the couch, and they’d pushed the coffee table off to the side. From where the coffee table was, just in front of the TV, it’d been stocked with snacks and other little treats for you all to enjoy throughout the night. Fairy lights had been draped along the walls and set to a light pink color, enhancing the Valentine’s Day ambiance. Other than the fairy lights, there was only one other lamp on. From the ceiling were little pink and red heart-hanging decorations that sparkled when they caught the light from the fairy lights. In the corner of the living room were all of the gifts you've received from them. Having just opened them, you didn’t have the time to move them to your room yet.

But that didn’t bother you too much. Not when all of your boys were already lounging on the couch and the other cushions they’d placed on the floor. It was like your own little heaven and it made you sad to think about how it’d have to be cleaned up eventually.

“Did you guys have to be in there for five hours?” Riki asks, setting his phone down as you and Sunoo enter the living room. There’s a clear spot left for you in the center of the couch.

“It was only one hour,” Sunoo corrects as you bound over to the couch, practically jumping between Jake and Sunghoon. “Riki-ah, if you want me to do your skincare, all you have to do is ask.”

Riki’s quick to shake his head. Instead, he leans over Jake to kiss your cheek. “Do I look as refreshed as I feel?” you teasingly ask your boyfriends. As expected, a flood of compliments is fast to follow.

“You look beautiful” “You're glowing, Doll” “Your bare face is my favorite”

You can’t help the way your heart races at their words, and you cuddle further between Jake and Sunghoon as Sunoo sits on the floor in front of you with Heeseung, Jay, and Jungwon. There are seven sets of eyes on you as you laugh softly.

“Thank you all for this. I don’t know what I would do without each of you,” you say with a small smile on your face. “I love you all so very much.”

With the way they’re looking at you, you don’t need to hear them say the same words back to know they feel the exact same way. Still, you can’t help but feel your eyes water as each of your loves tells you how much they love you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Doll,” Jungwon whispers to you as he reaches up to squeeze your hand. You return the gesture before settling back down. Jay and Heeseung were trying to decide which movie to put on, but you couldn't care less when you were with the people you loved the most.

Happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

#��⠀ ៰࣪⠀ ࣭ 𝓐OKI 𝓨N #poly!enhypen #poly enhypen #poly enhypen x reader #enhypen x reader #ot7 x reader #enha #enhypen #enhypen 8th member #enhypen added member #jungwon x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #niki x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x female reader

106 notes · View notes

sacredsorceress · 2 days ago

Text

scrutiny // bucky barnes

PAIRING: bucky barnes x avenger!reader SUMMARY: (CA:BNW spoilers) your husband decides that he wants to run for congress, but he won't do it without you. WORD COUNT: 2k A/N: tbh I needed to rationalize bucky running for congress after ca:bnw and the thunderbolts trailer WARNINGS: angst, PTSD, anxiety, captain america: brave new world spoilers, nightmares, pregnancy mention

masterlist | bucky barnes masterlist | inbox

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

The day was young. Dawn had barely begun. When you took a sip from the glass of water on your nightstand earlier, the clock had blinked 5:14 back at you. You wondered now how much time had passed.

A stream of gray light filtered in between the window's shades allowing you to see your husband's face. Scruff littered his cheeks, left unshaven from three days before and strands of hair hung loosely behind his ears in desperate need of a wash.

I'll scrub it clean later, you thought.

Your fingers could feel the phantom touch of the shampoo against his scalp as your fingertips massaged it into his skin. You'd even hold the showerhead for him, letting the warm water wash away shampoo along with the worries from earlier in the day.

But that was later.

Now, a tension thick enough to cut with enough a knife consumed the air.

"I think so." Bucky said.

Bucky's voice was coarse from the lack of use in the night. He cleared his throat as you heard the distinctive beep! beep! of your neighbor unlocking his car, signalling a start to the day.

"You think?" You couldn't help the bitter edge to your voice. As you tossed and turned the night before, playing different ways to approach the situation, you had tried- sincerely you did- to find a kind and gentle way to voice your opinions. But it seems that had faded away along with your consciousness as you went to sleep. "Buck, this isn't something you think you want to do. This could... I mean it could-"

You couldn't tell if his tone was due to exhaustion or frustration.

"Go ahead," Bucky said. "Say it."

"This could ruin our lives." You spat. "We're finally on track to having normal lives and now you want to run for Congress?"

"I think you know it's too late for us to have normal lives, Y/n."

It was the simplicity with which he said it. As if it was an obvious fact that only you were not aware of. In a way, you suppose you were.

Outside the window you heard your neighbor kick at his car door as the engine fussed. Battery's dead. You could hear him shout at his kids through the hurricane door, telling them that they'd have to take the bus to school.

You wanted nothing more than for Bucky and you to live normal lives. But the fact of the matter was that every day you were proved about the impossibility of it.

A week ago Bucky had come home to an empty house.

It's not as though he had never come home to an empty house before, because he had. Really, Bucky wasn't sure what it was. But before the logical part of his brain could remind him that you could be anywhere, doing anything, his pulse had began to quicken. Bucky could feel his heart thumping against its cage as blood rushed to his head, flooding his ears.

His lungs burned as he inhaled faster than he could exhale. His flesh hand shook.

Stumbling through the house he swung open a door to every room and closet, even shoving hangers aside in hopes of finding your waiting face between articles of clothing. With what little breath he had, Bucky called a wispy shout of your name.

He tossed sheets from their beds, ingredients from their cupboards all in search of you.

When you had finally come home fifteen minutes late, keys jingling in the lock, you found Bucky, head in his hands, sitting on the floor dialing Sam.

Later he would tell you that he didn't know what had gotten into him.

But you knew. This time it was nothing more than a missed bus, but before, it had been the real deal.

You had disappeared in the hands of some mastermind before he could even fight for you. And he wasn't alone.

Two nights ago Bucky woke to the sounds of you screaming.

His heart pounded in his chest, terrified that something had happened to you until he felt your wriggling form at his side. Your legs had tangled themselves in the sheets and a sheen of sweat coated your forehead as you heaved. The colourful glow of your magic emanated from your palms.

Not again.

In a moment he was up, grabbing your arms.

"Doll?" Bucky asked to no avail. "Doll, It's a dream-"

Before he could register what was happening, your head had whipped towards him, light glowing from your eyes.

"Stop it!"

And with that, a kinetic blast shot from your palms, building a shield between the two of you.

It took a moment, and several hits against the barrier with Bucky's vibranium fist, for recognition to blink its way back into your eyes.

When it did, your eyes burned with tears. Bucky welcomed you into his lap with open arms and held you as if the world depended on it. He supposed it did.

"I didn't know."

So maybe your husband was right.

Maybe you were past normal. But that didn't mean it was a good idea.

"We could move," you suggested. "Get out of the city... out of the country even. We could put this behind us like a bad dream. We could be safe there-"

You shifted in the sheets to face him, flinging your hands in reference to some distant future. Bucky could feel the breeze from your gestures brush against his skin and found himself wishing he had wings.

"It's never going to stop." Buck sighed, not out of frustration over you, but rather the fact he knew he was right as much as he wanted you to be. "They'll find us. They always do."

"So... what?" You asked. "So you put yourself out there and let them pick apart your life? Your every move? Because it'll start the second you announce you're running for election. They don't understand what our lives are like, Buck. They'll blame you for everything the Winter Soldier did. They'll scrutinize every little thing you do-"

Although your words had venom to them, it wasn't meant to sting Bucky into anything more than self awareness.

In truth, you weren't upset that he wanted to do something like this. Surprised? Yes. But upset? Angry at Bucky? Never.

What you were frustrated with was that you couldn't understand.

The same system that had turned itself against Bucky Barnes was now gaining him as a willing volunteer.

You'd seen firsthand how the admiration of someone when looking at you would quickly shift to fear at the sight of him. You'd stood alongside him as he fought to gain back the trust that he- James Barnes- had never been the one to lose. Again and again he was treated as a monster, a sinner, when all he had ever done was go fight in a war when he was asked 80 years ago and had paid the price for it ever since.

At times you didn't believe you deserved him- the kind, gentle love of your husband- why did they?

Lost in your own tirade, you hadn't noticed your husbands hands inching towards yours until the warm touch of his calloused fingertips begged for entrance into your closed fist.

"They already do pick me apart." His voice was rough, ragged. "I know you don't think I should do it, but I... I've spent so much of my life with no control over how it goes. I want to be able to do something, you know? Maybe I can make it better for other people, and us and... and if we have kids someday that end up with abilities like yours, they won't need to be scared like we were."

You could feel the steady beat of your heart thumping inside your chest. Your bottom lip quivered. Loosening your grip, you felt Bucky brush circles inside your palms.

His chest- shirtless from a restless night sleep- rose with a deep inhale.

"I won't do this without you."

It felt silly, almost, to think it but you were afraid of letting your husband out into the world. As if he wasn't several decades your senior, as if his face wasn't plastered in museums. But then again, the person the public knew was a hero or villain- not a man.

You knew the man- the one who lost sleep over memories that weren't his. The one who flipped a coin to decide whose turn it was to do the dishes. The one who slow danced with you to a scratchy vinyl on winter nights. Bucky Barnes was human and you were afraid they wouldn't see him for the man he was. Or refuse to and further hurt the man you loved.

You glanced down at your intertwined fingers. The light that was slowly pouring in had grown warmer and doused both your hands in its glow.

This was it, though, wasn't it? You've had the universe against you more times than you could count, what's a campaign trail?

You were together 'til the end of the line.

"I'll..." you started, squeezing Bucky's fingers. "If this is something you really want to do... I'll support you."

Bucky kept his mouth closed, waiting to hear it..

"But," you argued. "I won't stop getting my hands dirty. I'm an Avenger first and the Congressman's wife second."

And for the first time that morning, the tension shattered. You hadn't realized how thick it had been until your chest lifted.

Bucky was hunched over then, tendrils hanging in his face as he continued to massage your palm. It was then you noticed that in the years since his freedom, his posture had worsened. Buck'll complain about his back later, you thought.

The simplicity grounded you.

"'Congressman's wife," Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "God that sounds crazy."

You leaned forward and brushed a stray hair from his temple to get a better look into his eyes. Your fingers lingered against his skin.

You smiled.

"If there's one thing I know for sure though," you said. "Fuck, will you be able to pull off those suits."

A rumble of laughter escaped his throat and joined your own in a light symphony that drowned out the worries of before.

Your husband pulled your hand towards him, reeling you into his grasp. And before you could think, your lips were on Bucky's turning your giggles into delight-filled hmms.

He told you he loved you, not in words but in the feeling of his fingers gripping your top and his lips lingering on yours between breaths. You told him you loved him back.

Later, after you had washed Bucky's hair, massaging his scalp just as you had promised yourself earlier, you sat, hand in his, as he confirmed his intentions to run.

The rest of the day became a blur of phone calls and questions from wannabe campaign managers, journalists, politicians- really you couldn't remember- but what you would never forget was the way his eyes fell on you amidst the chaos of the afternoon, grounding him on his own world the two of you shared.

That morning Bucky had told you that he wouldn't run without you, but what he really meant was that he couldn't.

They said all the things you had warned him about. They scrutinized him to a degree that even his former captors would be impressed by and minimized his accomplishments so much so he wondered if they'd wipe his name from being next to Steve's in the museum.

Though, it ran off him like water with you by his side.

As evening turned to night and his phone finally stopped ringing, Bucky climbed under the sheets beside you.

And as your fingers traced the scars on his chest, humming his ringtone as you dozed off, he had a profound realization: how could the words of a stranger carry any weight when he received the love of a woman like you?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes blurb #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #winter soldier #james bucky barnes

126 notes · View notes

starsreminisce · 2 days ago

Text

SJM Romance Week Day Seven Free Day

Across the Universe

wordcount: 5100 for @sjmromanceweek

Summary: Elain is finally forced to make a choice, and the Mother intervenes by revealing every possible outcome that awaits her.

Read on AO3 or continue below

Elain glared at the wall. She couldn’t seem to fathom how it had come to this—being preached about her own choices by not only her youngest sister but also her mate—yet here she was, suffocating under the weight of their opinions. Hurt and fury tangled together, bound by the familiar sting of having her life dictated.

The same story, playing out in yet another endless cycle.

It wasn’t until the silence had finally settled into Rhysand’s office that she realized she’d been dismissed, dismissed from her own life. The tightening of her jaw extended into her standing, mumbling out a perfunctory goodbye before slipping out the door.

Escape. That was all she could think about as she rushed down the stairs. Maybe she’d get an apartment in Velaris. Or another court. Or maybe—her mind reeled, wild with desperation—maybe an entirely different continent.

Her garden. If she could just make it there, she could breathe again. But she stopped short at the base of the stairs.

Lucien stood by the entrance.

Their eyes met, and their mating bond buzzed faintly in her mind. His head dipped but the longing in his gaze was unmistakable. She didn’t need to see it etched across his face. She felt it humming along the bond, slipping into her heart without permission.

Elain could feel her chest tightened. He knew. Of course he knew. He’d known why she was called into Rhysand’s office, known what was discussed. And yet, knowing didn’t make her feel any less trapped.

She didn’t want this. Didn’t want him. Didn’t want the invisible chains of this bond dictating the rest of her immortal life. She’d had so little freedom in her human years, and now, even that was gone.

Lucien’s expression softened as though he’d heard the thought through the bond. Still, he said nothing. Instead, he inclined his head—a small, empty gesture—and walked out the door. No second glance. No words.

Elain exhaled shakily and turned toward the garden, the only place where her thoughts didn’t feel like they were spiraling out of control. She laid down in her nook, tilting her face to the sky. She enjoyed the quiet. It was comforting, and she fell asleep without noticing.

She had left her garden when her eyes opened again.

Rather, she was standing in a huge city with a smoky, chaotic atmosphere. Overhead, a massive glass palace with jagged spires that gleamed like knives.

A quiet but anxious voice called her name. She turned abruptly.

Lucien put out his hand and stood a few steps away. His face was tense with anxiety, and the wind was ruffling his ruby red hair. “The boat to Doranelle leaves soon,” he said, his golden eye glinting in the pale light.

She stared at him. “What…?”

He stepped closer, closing the space between them. His hand brushed hers, warm and steady, as though he could anchor her.

“My heart,” he said softly. “We don’t have much time.”

Her fingers trembled as she slipped her hand into his. He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms as a chill wind swept through the cobblestoned streets. His warmth pressed against her shivering frame, but it did little to quiet the fear she felt.

“Are you sure?” her voice barely more than a whisper.

His jaw clenched. “They’ll sack Terrasen. We need to go now.”

“Lucien, I’m—” Her voice cracked.

“Do not be afraid, my love,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”

She sniffled, and Lucien tugged her closer to wrap his arms around her as though to shield her from the world. The noise of the city seemed to dim, melting into a distant hum until it was just the two of them—just the bond and the steady, grounding weight of him. His breath brushed her ear as he whispered softly, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was such a soft, intimate statement that her breathing hitched. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his voice settle over her. And when she opened them again, the world had shifted.

It was still Lucien. But not. His hair was woven into intricate braids, the ends tipped in beads of copper. Tattoos curled along the sides of his neck, trailing down to vanish beneath his shirt, and a small silver hoop glinted in his nose. He seemed both entirely foreign and completely familiar, the bond between them thrumming as if to remind her that no matter the form, this was him.

Elain blinked down at herself. Her dress was gone, replaced by a strange garment that clung to her body like a second skin: a pair of pants—stiff yet soft, hugging her legs down to her ankles. They were a stormy blue, faded in places, and patched with tiny frayed holes. Above them, a top bared her midsection, her skin catching the light of some unseen source. And there, nestled in the hollow of her navel, was a tiny jewel.

She touched it absently, still reeling, her voice taking on a coquettish edge to mask her confusion. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she said, her eyes meeting Lucien’s. “The drop is just … scary. It’s some Asteri bullshit to keep us in line.”

But Lucien just smiled—sharper, hungrier than she was used to—and closed the space between them, and his lips crashed on hers with a fervor that stole her breath. It wasn’t the soft, tentative affection she was used to. This was raw, consuming. And she met him with equal intensity, her hands tangling in his braids as though this version of him was a male she’d known forever.

When they broke apart, she was breathless, her head spinning. A laugh bubbled out of her, giddy and reckless, and she said, “Okay.” Her heart raced as if it were leaping ahead of her, knowing something she didn’t. “Okay. Whatever happens, as long as I’m with you forever.”

Lucien’s hands framed her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. His voice dropped to a low, steady vow. “I am your anchor,” he said. “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”

Her laugh burst into a delighted squeal as if she’d shrugged off every burden that had ever weighed her down. But then—then the ground disappeared beneath her feet. Her stomach plummeted, her breath caught in her throat, and the world began to unspool around her, spinning apart into fragments of color and light.

She was falling.

Falling.

Falling…

Until she landed with a soft thud. The fall ended not on hard ground, but on something worn and familiar. A couch. She blinked, disoriented, her breath catching as she realized she was curled up against Lucien. The room was dim, the only illumination coming from some sort of strange box directly in front of them, flickering with moving images. His hand had been laid lightly on her waist, and somehow she was draped over him, her body nestled comfortably against his.

“Did you fall asleep again?” His voice was a soft murmur, teasing but warm.

“No,” she replied defensively, even as her face heated. “You’re just really warm.”

A pause. Pregnant and heavy, though she couldn’t quite say why. She shifted to look up at him, catching the faintest curve of a smile on his now-human face. He reached for a small, smooth rectangle beside him, pressing a button that made the flickering images vanish into black.

He turned to her, his expression softer now, quieter. “You know that I’ll support you,” he said, the weight of his words pulling her from the haze of sleep.

“I know,” she replied unsurely. “It’s just... restaurants fail all the time. Even the good ones. What if it doesn’t work out?”

Lucien shook his head, brushing her hair back from her face with such tenderness that she stilled. “And what if it does work out? You’ve landed the job of your dreams, Elle. We’ve been saving for this. For you. You can take this chance.”

Her throat tightened as tears welled in her eyes. “Loosh...” The gratitude, the fear, the love—it all swirled together.

“No matter what happens,” he said as though it were a vow, “I will always be by your side.”

Even as the dream threatened to fall apart once more, she was grounded by his familiar words. She leaned forward and kissed him, closing her eyes. For an instant, his warmth tethered her, steadied her.

Because when her eyes opened again, the world had shifted once more.

They were no longer on the couch. No longer in the quiet glow of that strange, cozy room. Now they stood on the deck of a massive ship, the scent of salt and sea spray in the air. Her hair wildly whipped around her face in the wind, and when she looked down, she realized she was in a swashbuckling corset, her belt adorned with a gleaming cutlass.

Lucien stood beside her, his ruby red hair tied back in a loose queue, a few strands escaping to frame the sharp angles of his jaw. His left eye was covered by a worn leather eyepatch, lending a rakish edge to the cocky grin curving his lips. His open collar let a glimpse of his chest show beneath the sun bleached skin. That sight alone was enough to curl her toes.

Her body reacted instinctively, the heat pooling low in her belly as a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. She had no idea what was feeding the hum of energy within her except that it needed to find release.

“Ah, well, love,” he drawled, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Ready for our next adventure?”

“Not quite,” she said in a coy invitation.

With a newfound sense of confidence, she leaned back against the ship’s railing. She liked this aspect of herself even though she didn’t recognize it. Intentionally and purposefully, she reached out and let her fingers slide over the front of his trousers, her lips curling into a slow, playful smile.

His single visible eye darkened with interest, his grin sharpening into something wicked. “Oh?” he asked, his tone a mix of challenge and promise.

Her fingers gave him a firm squeeze, and the next moment his lips were on hers, hot and demanding. Her hands slid to the curve of his ass, pulling him closer as he pressed her back against the railing. His lips moved to her neck, suckling and grazing the sensitive skin there until he elicited a moan from her lips.

“Lucien,” she gasped. “I need you.”

“Not yet, love,” he murmured.

She barely had time to process his words before she heard his knees hit the wooden planks beneath them.

Her breath hitched as his hands slid up her thighs, steady and reverent. And then his tongue swept against her, deliberate and skilled, sending waves of pleasure through her that made her body tighten. Her fingers curled around the railing behind her, the rough wood grounding her as her head fell back.

“Lucien,” she gasped, her breaths coming fast and shallow, her body trembling as the pressure inside her coiled tighter and tighter—until it wasn’t.

Her gaze dropped to him, and he looked up at her, his russet eye burning with unwavering intensity—like she was the only thing in his universe.

“Show me what comes next,” she breathed, caught between the moment and the possibilities beyond it.

Lucien rose to his feet, and when his lips met hers, she tasted herself on him. Heat coiled low in her stomach at the intimacy of it, at the way his hands tightened at her waist, tracing slow, deliberate patterns only she could decipher.

When he pulled away, she didn’t understand the flicker of disappointment that followed. Didn’t understand why she had expected—anticipated—more. Why the absence of him inside her felt like something withheld rather than something simply not given.

She needed him.

Impatience flared, sharp and insistent.

“Wherever you want,” he murmured against her lips.

She hummed, her thoughts spinning between destinations and adventures, the endless possibilities stretching before them. Lucien grinned, as though he could read her indecision, as though it delighted him.

His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her face before he whispered, “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”

Before she could reply, the ground beneath her shifted. It gave way like sand pulled out by the tide, and she was falling.

Falling.

Falling…

Until she found herself cradled in his arms. He carried her effortlessly, dressed in a sleek tuxedo, while she looked down at herself in a flowing white dress. She blinked as they walked through a crowd of laughing people tossing rice into the air. The grains danced like tiny stars, glittering in the golden light.

“You’re my husband?” she asked with disbelief as an unexpected thrill raced through her.

He smiled down at her, that familiar smile doing its work with her heart skipping a beat. “That way, no matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”

She shut her eyes and leaned in for a chaste kiss, tears of happiness blinding her eyes. And in that moment, the world seemed complete and at peace.

But when she opened her eyes again, everything was different.

And now they faced a peaceful farm shrouded in mist. Beyond their small house, rolling hills stretched on and on, covered in fog that blurred the edges of the world

She glanced down at herself, taking in the simple woolen dress that clung gently to her pregnant belly. Her hands instinctively cradled the bump. She looked up again and nearly burst into laughter.

Lucien was standing by the door of the cottage, his arms crossed, his red hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck. He was wearing a skirt—a plaid pattern of deep red and green that swayed lightly in the breeze. Somehow, it suited him perfectly, as though he belonged here more than anywhere else.

He turned to her and grinned, a flash of white teeth and easy confidence. “Ye shouldn’t be on ye feet,” he said, his tone playfully chiding.

She answered with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “You don’t tell me what to do.”

“Aye,” Lucien said, stepping toward her. His gaze softened with concern. “Ye ken I worry about you. And the bairn.”

She didn’t really comprehend the weight of the words that hung between them. Or perhaps she didn’t want to understand. She felt a quiet, irrational fear stirring in her chest, like if she looked too closely at the moment, it might break apart.

Lucien knelt slightly, his large hand brushing over her rounded stomach with the lightest of touches. The tenderness in the gesture was enough to make her throat tighten.

“I told you,” he murmured as she closed her eyes. “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side, ken.”

When she opened them, he was light itself.

His red hair glinted like sun rays, his skin aglow with an otherworldly brilliance. The golden threads in his robe seemed to shimmer around him like beams of buttery sunshine. She looked down at herself and found she too was transformed. Her body felt timeless, eternal. Her dress was a gown of rich greens and browns, vines and flowers blossoming along its seams. The ground beneath her bare feet pulsed with life.

“Solas,” she whispered as she opened her arms to him. The taste of the name was as ancient as it felt like home, something that always resided in her mouth. “It has been a year, my love. I have missed you immensely.”

His mismatched eyes eased as he drew closer, softly entwined his fingers into her locks. “Cthona,” he murmured, his voice like sunlight warming her skin. ��A year too long.”

Their kiss was the same as it had always been—an unbroken promise, a memory of all they had been and all they could be. It consumed her, grounding her and unmooring her all at once.

As they parted, his hands cradled her face, wiping away the tears that trickled down her cheeks with his thumbs. He added in a low voice, “No matter how many years pass. No matter how many lives we endure, I will always be by your side. You are the beginning and the end of me, Cthona. You always have been.”

His words were both heavy and light as they buried deeply into her chest. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his, relishing the instant, the assurance, and the eternity in his arms.

She opened them again, and the world flickered as her eyes met his. The golden glow fractured into shards of color and light, spinning faster and faster as though the universe itself were turning pages too quickly for her to keep up.

She watched as the flickering slowed, revealing hundreds—no, thousands—of versions of him. Lucien, over and over, in lives she hadn’t lived but somehow knew by heart.

Lucien the knight in shining armor, with a billowing red cape as he knelt before her, sword in hand and devotion etched on every plane of his face.

Lucien the scholar: ink-stained fingers trailing across the pages of a worn leather-bound book, looking up at her in quiet wonder.

Lucien the musician, sat cross-legged with a lute balanced on his knee; deft hands coaxed a melody that seemed meant only for her.

Lucien, waiting for her at a café, his hand around a steaming cup, his eyes locking to hers with a tentative, heart-stopping smile.

Lucien, his calloused hands wiping the sweat from his brow, his golden eye glinting as he shared a small, secret grin just for her.

Lucien in finery fit for a king, his crown tilted slightly askew as though he’d just removed it for her.

Each version of him looked at her the same way—with devotion that burned through time itself. With longing that reached across lifetimes.

Her heart beat furiously at the kaleidoscope of him. She could feel it in every thread of her being: no matter where, no matter when, he was hers.

The images blurred together, their faces melting into one until there was only him. Only Lucien.

And in every life, every version, his voice rang out a promise she could never forget.

“I am glad that I am in a life where I am yours.”

Her breath hitched, and just as she reached for him, the world went pitch black.

Then, slowly, the light returned.

She was standing in a bustling market, surrounded by the scents of autumn—crisp leaves, spiced cider, and freshly baked bread. Fae farmers called out their wares, laughter and conversation filling the air in this market. The colors of the Autumn Court blazed around her, vivid and warm, but her heart froze as her gaze landed on him.

Lucien.

He stood by a stall, leaning close to a female with delicate butterfly wings that shimmered in the sunlight. Perched on his shoulders was a little girl with the same ruby red hair, her chubby hands gripping his hair for balance. A boy stood on the other side of the female, holding her hand as she pointed at something on the stall.

Lucien’s expression softened as he listened to her. His voice was low and full of care, full of love. Elain couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She wanted to blink, to squeeze her eyes shut and will herself into the next dream—but nothing happened.

This wasn’t a dream.

Her feet carried her toward him before she could decide whether it was the right thing to do. Every step felt like threading molasses. She stopped beside him, and time seemed to stretch unbearably as Lucien turned toward her.

His hands slackened at his sides, his face draining of color. “You’re my mate,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What did you say?” the female beside him asked, her delicate face wrinkling in confusion.

Elain blinked rapidly, trying to keep her tears at bay, but the words rang in her head like a bell she couldn’t unhear. She hadn’t thought—hadn’t considered—that there might be lives where he wasn’t… hers.

She turned to run, unable to face it. The market faded, turning into a forest and she collided with him. His arms closed around her, and her lips found his with desperate eagerness, as though she’d been starving for him.

“Elain,” his voice was strained, raw with anguish. “You and I can’t be—”

“But we are mates,” she sobbed, clawing at him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though holding on could stop the world from tearing them apart.

“In another life, Elain,” he said, his voice breaking under the weight of the words. His russet eye shimmered with unshed tears, his hands trembling where they cupped her face. “You are my mate. You are everything. But they’ll kill her if I leave… if I leave them.”

The words slammed into her, hollowing her out.

This was cruelty. This was torture. If Elain was shown worlds where she and Lucien lived and loved, then now, she was forced to endure those where Jesminda lived—and Lucien wasn’t… couldn’t… was forced not to be hers

Not if he didn’t want Jesminda to be killed. Not if he didn’t want them to be killed. Not if he didn’t want to break apart the family he had made, the home he had built—the home that shattered the moment his face paled and his voice, broken and haunted, whispered that he had been wrong about his mate.

Stolen moments that rarely saw the light of day.

And it always ended the same way before she was dragged into the next scene.

She shook her head violently, the word slipping from her lips like a plea. “No… no…”

As though anchoring himself to her one final time, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. His breath trembled as he whispered, barely more than a rasp, “No matter what, I will always be by your side, even when I cannot.”

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks. She gripped his arms, her fingers digging in, desperate to keep him close. Desperate to change the ending.

But before she could reply—

The world yanked her away.

Her garden. If she could just make it there, she could breathe again. But she stopped short at the base of the stairs.

Lucien stood by the entrance.

No.

“So you made a decision,” Lucien said quietly.

This didn’t happen.

“I did,” Elain said, her voice tight as she avoided his gaze.

This didn’t happen.

Lucien looked down at the floor and nodded slowly.

THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN.

Time stretched unbearably, each second sinking heavier into her chest. Her stomach churned with dread, her body frozen as though trapped in amber. She wanted to stop it, to speak, to reach for him—but the words stuck in her throat, strangled by fear.

Lucien looked up at her one last time, his russet eye filled with something she couldn’t name—something that both softened and broke her. A bittersweet smile curved his lips, fragile and fleeting, like a memory already slipping away.

“Perhaps in another life, lady,” he murmured, his voice low and aching, “I would have loved to be yours.”

He turned and walked away.

The door closed behind him with an unbearable finality, the soft click echoing in her mind like a thunderclap. It shattered something deep inside her, something fragile and vital, leaving her hollow.

He didn’t… he didn’t say it.

The thought spiraled, tearing through her. He didn’t say the words. The words she needed. The words that had anchored her through lifetimes and dreams.

Her breath hitched, sharp and ragged, as if the very air had turned heavy and toxic, pressing down on her chest. The ache swelled, unbearable, until it broke free.

The scream tore from her throat—raw, feral, endless.

She screamed.

She screamed until her lungs gave out, until the sound tore through her and left her shaking. Then, as if pulled from deep water, she jolted upright in bed, gasping for air.

Her breaths came wild and jagged, her chest heaving.

The room was dark, the edges blurred, her mind still clinging to the shattered fragments of unfinished dreams. The sheets beneath her were damp with sweat, tangled around her legs as if they, too, had tried to hold her in the nightmare.

“Lady?”

His voice cut through the haze, soft and hesitant, a lifeline pulling her back into the present.

Her head snapped toward him. Lucien was seated in a chair beside her bed, his posture rigid as his knuckles turned white from gripping his knees. His red hair was untied, a few unruly strands framing his face as lines of the worry etched into his features.

“Lucien,” she croaked. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he said soothingly, his russet scarred gaze steady on hers. But there was something beneath the calm surface of his voice—something taut, uneasy, as if he were afraid of the answer.

She pressed her palm against her forehead, trying to focus, trying to make sense of the images that still swirled in her mind. The pirate ship. The chapel. The endless lives. His words. Perhaps in another life...

A sob broke free before she could stop it, raw and wrenching. The ache of the last dream lingered like a phantom, overshadowing the fleeting joy of the happier ones.

The idea he wasn’t hers. The idea he couldn’t be. The idea he … didn’t want to be.

Lucien moved quickly, pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. She accepted it with shaking hands, chugging it down until her parched throat eased. When the glass was empty, she set it aside and sank back into the pillows, her chest still tight with grief she couldn’t fully name.

She could feel his gaze on her, the quiet weight of it. She turned her head toward him and saw it—etched in every line of his face, in the tension of his shoulders, in the shadows that darkened his expression. Worry.

“What happened?” she asked again, her voice stronger now but still unsteady.

Lucien shook his head slowly, exhaling through his nose. “I couldn’t feel you,” he admitted, his voice low, as though saying it aloud might make it worse. “It was like you were taken from me. I went to your alcove to check on you, and you were dreaming—restlessly, violently. There was something about it…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he struggled for words. “It didn’t feel right. So I carried you up here.”

Her throat tightened at the image of him finding her, of his concern pulling her from whatever darkness had held her captive. “Did Rhys…”

Lucien shook his head before she could finish. “I thought he’d be the last person you wanted to see.”

They sat in silence, the air between them heavy with unspoken truths. Elain turned her gaze to the ceiling, her tears slipping down her temples as she reoriented herself. But the one constant, the only constant, was him. Lucien. His love had followed her through every version of existence.

“You came for me,” she said quietly. “Even when you knew…”

She didn’t know how to finish her sentence. Didn’t know how to properly express the enormity of what she felt, the gratitude tangled with sorrow. But Lucien didn’t hesitate.

“I would have,” he said softly, his voice steady, unwavering. “Because no matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”

This quiet conviction in his voice was the final pull of threads, and she came utterly undone. A sob tore from her chest as she sagged, burying her face in her shaking hands, her grief and the relief of being found when still so lost, breaking her completely raw and open.

And then… warmth. From their bond.

She turned toward him, and a shared understanding passed between them—silent, familiar. Like then. Like in a thousand lives before. Like now.

Wordlessly, he stood from the chair. It was the first time in this world, but hundreds of times before, that he kicked off his shoes and slipped beneath the covers. She shifted without thinking, making space for him. Always on the same side. Always with the same arm tucked beneath her.

But for the first time in this universe, she turned into him. Pressed her forehead to his chest as his hand found her back, tracing slow, steady circles.

She exhaled, feeling the tension leave her body, but when she looked up at him, she caught it—the flicker of confusion in his gaze. As if he had never done this before, yet somehow knew exactly how to.

“Was it a bad dream?” he asked softly.

“It could have been.”

His fingers stilled for just a breath. “Is there something I can do to make it better?”

She couldn’t help but smile, just a little. “Maybe if you were to get a tricorne hat.”

Silence. Then a chuckle—low, warm. She looked up at him again, finding the amusement lingering in his mismatched eyes.

“Promise?” she whispered.

His smile softened. “Promise.”

A promise.

A promise that even in the darkest dreams, even when the world tried to tear them apart, he would always find her.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #sjmromanceweek2025 #sjmromanceweek

33 notes · View notes

samgirl98 · 8 hours ago

Text

Forgotten Demon Twin 14/?

Prev | Next

Bruce put away his phone after confirming with Constantine that they would meet with the Justice League in a few hours by text. He turned his attention toward the Fentons, who were all on one side of the living room. Dick, Damian and Bruce were on the other side, showing a clear divide.

Danny and Jazz had searched the living room and kitchen for bugs and found three. Bruce was itching to know who had been spying on the Fentons and how Danny and Jazz knew. He was pretty sure the Fenton parents wanted to know, too. Unfortunately, no one voiced their thoughts.

Silence reigned for minutes, neither side knowing how to start the conversation.

Eventually, Danny sighed.

“Look, can we just get this over with? I want to talk to my family privately.”

Bruce put his hand on Damian’s shoulder and gave a warning squeeze.

Damian looked at Bruce and scowled, “Tt.”

“It’s obvious you’re keeping secrets from us,” Maddie said. “Honestly, we don’t care about those secrets unless they could endanger our family.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce acknowledged. “To be able to tell you our secrets, my whole family will have to agree. It affects them, too.”

Bruce sent a group text, asking what his children’s opinions were.

“Now, there’s just the matter of the DNA test.”

“We don’t need a DNA test! Akhi, you know we’re siblings; come home with us.”

“I am home. I have a sister and two parents who love, value, and don’t see me worse than the dirt on their feet. You were never my brother. You were another enemy that I had to survive in that hellhole.”

By the end of his rant, Danny was breathing hard. Mr. Fenton had put his hand on Danny’s shoulder while Mrs. Fenton held on his hand. Bruce could admit to himself that he was jealous of the family's easy touch. Damian didn’t look for physical affection often, and Bruce was too stunted to be able to give it. The Fentons didn’t have such qualms.

“I should actually thank you, akhi,” Danny sneered the word brother. “If it weren’t for you showing how weak I was, I would have never escaped and found my true family. I’ll give you your DNA test, but don’t you dare think that whatever that paper says will make me abandon my family.”

“Do you hate me that much?” Damian asked, hurt.

“I don’t hate you; I nothing you. All these years, I wasn’t the only one that was forgotten. I only thought of Grandfather and how he could make my life a living hell if he thought of for even a second. You, Talia, you were never in my mind.”

Danny stood up and went up to Bruce.

“So take your test, Bruce Wayne, it won’t change a thing.”

Damian got up. Bruce flinched at the sound of his son’s knees hitting the floor hard. He put his left hand over his heart.

“Akhi, Danyal, my little brother. I want to formally apologize for everything you’ve been through, for everything I’ve put you through. My words may not be enough, but hopefully, you can see I’m trying. I want to get to know my little brother.”

Danny stared at Damian for a few seconds, his face impassive. Then he looked at Bruce and said, “Let me know when you want to take the test tomorrow. We can talk better tomorrow, and by then, you and your family can decide what you do and what you do not want to tell us. Now, if you can give me some time with my family, I would appreciate it.”

Bruce and Dick got up.

“Of course,” Bruce said, “I’m sorry for interrupting.

Dick helped Damian get up and Bruce’s heart clenched at Damian’s wet eyes. Damian rarely cried; when he did, no one in the family knew how to react.

“We’ll take our leave. You have our number; call us if you have any questions or need anything.”

Mrs. Fenton walked them to the door and watched as they entered the car. Damian gave one last look at Fenton’s work before entering. It wasn’t until Bruce was driving that Damian broke down crying.

“It’s my fault. I messed up so much.”

“No, little D, you were a child. Talia, Ra’s they were the ones who fucked up; not you.”

Bruce’s fist clenched over the wheel. He would find a way to fix this. He had to.

____

Danny breathed a sigh of relief when Wayne’s car disappeared.

He entered the house and went straight to the living room, where his parents were waiting for him.

Crap.

How was he going to do this? Should he apologize first? After all, he had lied to them for years. Their entire foundation was built on a lie, and it just kept piling up until Danny had constructed a tall building of deceit. His parents didn’t have to forgive him. Hell, if they wanted to throw Danny out, he wouldn’t blame them and would accept it gracefully. He wouldn’t go to the Waynes. He didn’t think he could survive living under Damian’s shadow again. That’s what he would miss the most if his parents kicked him out. Here, in the Fenton household, he was his own person.

“I’m so sorry,” Danny said, tears coming down his face, “I’ve lied to you for years.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t cry,” his mom wiped away the tears, “we understand. You were put in such a precarious situation at such a young age. None of this is your fault. We don’t blame you at all.”

“Yeah, Danny,” dad said, “if anything, we should apologize. We should’ve realized you were our son. We should’ve listened to you and Jazz when you said Phantom wasn’t evil.”

“I was going to tell you. I was going to tell you today, but,” he bit his lip. Should he tell them about Vlad? Would they believe him?

“Ancients, there’s so much I’ve kept from you. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to tell us everything at once or at all,” Mom said.

“No, I want to; it’s just so much.”

“How about we drink some tea and think about this rationally?” Jazz suggested while bringing four cups of tea and some cookies.

They sat silently with their tea and cookies, everyone lost in their thoughts. Eventually, the snacks were gone, and an awkward silence filled the air.

Danny cleared his throat, determined to get this over with.

“Before I begin, there’s something else I feel is important you need to know.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. It didn’t work.

“Remember a while back when Pariah Dark swallowed all of Amity Park into the Ghost Zone?”

Both his parents nodded.

“Yeah, Phantom, you fought him,” his mom recalled.

“You almost died,” dad said.

“Well, in the Ghost Zone, the Infinite Realms as the denizens call it, the king is determined by right of conquest.”

His parents looked confused.

“I beat the old king. I’m the new one. Or, well, the crowned prince. I convinced them to give me a few years before making it official.”

“Not only am half-ghost, I’m the ruler of everything you hate.”

____

Vlad swept everything that was on the table with his arms.

The bugs he had planted in Fenton’s work had been found and destroyed. By now, Daniel had probably told the Fentons, and more importantly, Maddie, everything.

No, he had to find a way to bring Maddie and Daniel to his side. He would be the ruler of the Infinite Realms, with Danny as his son and Maddie as his queen. He would not accept anything less.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #forgotten demon twin

25 notes · View notes

pogues4lifeee · 3 days ago

Text

🅾 livestream - drew starkey 🅾

Summary: Y/n and Drew Starkey have been dating since filming Outer Banks, and they finally decide to reveal their relationship through an instagram live

Anything in italics are comments on the livestreams

Word count: 1.5k

----------------------------------------

I knocked on Drew’s door. Since Outer Banks had released on Netflix a couple weeks ago, and the cast and I didn’t want to be alone, we all moved into an apartment building together. We all had our own apartment, but we always visited each other. I was barely ever in my own apartment. Drew opened the door and smiled once he saw it was me. He was holding his phone in his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a visitor,” he said, smiling at his phone.

I immediately remembered that he was on an instagram live on the obx account. I had joined for a little but then left to go on a run, shower, and visit him. I immediately joined in on the joke, entering the house posing as if Drew was paparazzi. Drew joins in, moving the phone pretending to capture pictures of me as I pose in the doorway.

“Please welcome… y/n!” Drew says in a deep announcer voice

“Hey guys!” I say, breaking the act.

We both started laughing at what had just happened, but also because you guys were keeping a huge secret. I play Aaliyah on the show, JJ’s sister who has a thing for Rafe. Since the show was released, everyone has been shipping me and Drew, but we’ve already been dating since filming the first season. We’ve kept our relationship secret for so long because we weren’t sure how everyone would react. Only the rest of the cast knew. Outer Banks was my first ever acting job, and it became so popular, but I couldn’t deal with anyone disliking me. I am a bit of a people pleaser, and the whole cast knows about it. I always ask all of them before I do anything I may regret, but Drew’s opinion always matters most to me.

We walked over to the couch. I sat down on the armrest and Drew sat on the couch next to me, resting his arm on my leg.

“Alright let’s answer some comments,” Drew said, looking at the comments trying to pick one to respond to

obx.lover123: love you guys so much!

Madisonbaileybabes ☑️: YESSS DREW AND Y/N ARE LIVE TOGETHER

hichasestokes ☑️: where was my invite 🙁🙁🙁?

“Sorry Chase!” I said, seeing his comment.

“Come over if u want” Drew told chase through the live

“Aww we love you too obxlover.123” I said, reading the username of the comment. “And hey Bails!”

We answered a few more questions about the show and how quarantining together was before Chase and Madelyn knocked on Drew’s door.

“Alright, that’s Maddie and Chase so we’re gonna hop off and hang with them for a while” Drew said, heading towards the door.

“Bye guys!” I said, taking the phone from Drew to end the live since he wasn’t the best with technology.

Drew opened the door to see Maddie and Chase holding a bag with stuff for a mini charcuterie board, lemonade, and chips for the boys.

“Hey Chase, Maddie!” Drew said, pulling the two in for a hug.

“Hey guys!” I said, pulling Maddie in for a hug and giving Chase the good old pogue handshake, pulling into a hug.

“Hey, I didn’t get a proper hello either,” Drew pouts.

“Hi baby,” I say, going in for a kiss.

Drew picked me up and spun me around and I held his shoulders. When he set me down, Maddie and I went out on the balcony with some lemonade and the mini charcuterie board while Drew and Chase started talking about the basketball game from the night before.

“So when exactly are you going to announce that you’re dating Drew?” Maddie asked, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Drew’s more than ready, he’s been waiting for me to feel comfortable.” I responded, taking a sip of my lemonade.

“What’s stopping you?” Maddie asks me, putting cheese on one of the crackers and popping it in her mouth.

“Look Maddie, you know me. I’m a people pleaser. I can’t deal with hate especially when it’s something I can control. And I don’t want to break up with Drew, I love him so much, so this is what I have to do in order to keep him and I happy.” I explained to Maddie.

She simply frowned.

“But y/n, it’s one hater as opposed to like, a million fans who ship you two! You two are a crazier ship than me and Chase was! Please, please, please, don’t work so hard to keep your relationship a secret when so many people are practically begging you to get together.” Maddie pleaded.

“Maybe I will on an instagram live at some point, for right now, let’s enjoy the snacks.” I said, reaching for a slice of prosciutto from the plate. After a couple hours and a movie later, Chase and Maddie headed back to their apartment.

🅾

I kept thinking about what Maddie Cline had said earlier. I hated keeping your relationship a secret, but I was scared about the hate.

“You know what, fuck it.” I whispered to myself. I got up from my couch and headed over to Drew’s apartment across the hall. I knocked on the door and he opened it. I don’t think he was expecting anyone else, because he was in sweats and his hair was wet. His eyes widened with joy when he saw me.

“Hey y/n, what are you doing here?” he asked me, happy that I came back.

“I wanna do it.” I said.

“Do what?” he asked, confused.

“Can I come in?” I asked

He immediately moved aside so that I could step inside. He closed the door behind me.

“Now tell me y/n/n, what did you want to do?” he asked me, sitting down on the couch.

I sat down across from him, picking up his hand. I knew he’s wanted to do this for a while and was just waiting for me to be ready.

“I want to tell everyone we’re dating.” I said softly, as if this was some major secret.

His eyes glimmered.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked me, getting up and walking to the fridge.

“Cline and I were talking and she made me realize that I shouldn’t hide my relationship because I’m scared of a couple haters, and that I should focus on the people who want us together.” I answered

“Wow baby, I’m really proud of you.” Drew said, walking back from the fridge with beer and 2 slices of leftover cake from the release party. I didn’t realize how big the cake was until Drew and I were eating it almost every day for 2 weeks.

“This is a cause for a celebration,” he says, placing the slices of cake down and handing me a beer before cracking his open.

“Here here,” I say, opening mine and going in for a cheers with Drew.

I pulled out my phone.

“Wanna do it now?” I said, shaking the phone.

Drew nodded and sat down instantly. I sat down on his lap and put my arms around his neck. I hit start on the livestream.

“Hey guys! It’s us again!” I say, waving to the camera.

drew_starkeylover29537: omg two lives in one day? best day ever!

rudypankow ☑️: you guys are back! Is this what i think it is?

madelyncline ☑️: wait y/n are you taking my advice?!

“I think it is Rudy and yes Maddie!” I respond to both of my fellow cast members.

“y/n and i have an announcement to make.” Drew says, smiling at me. “Wanna do the honours?”

I nodded.

“Me and Drew are dating!” I said, happy it was finally out

i.ship.drew.starkey.and.y./n. : no way!!! since how long?!

madisonbaileybabe ☑️: FINALLY I CAN POST MOST OF MY BTS FOOTAGE NOW

I laughed at Maddie Bailey’s comment.

“So to answer any questions you may have, we started dating while filming obx, we’ve been dating for about 11 months now.” I said, seeing the most common comments. I went back to look for another one and that’s when I saw it. The comment that read:

drewstarkeyismyhusband: he could do so much better than her she’s not even that pretty or funny 🙄

I froze. I didn’t know what to say or do, I just sat there. Part of me wanted to cry, but that would just make it worse. Drew immediately noticed the change in my behaviour and as if he read my mind, he immediately started scanning the comments and saw it.

“Hey listen, it took y/n a lot of courage to want to announce this, we’ve been waiting for 7 months to announce this because we all wanted y/n to feel comfortable. So please, if you have something negative to say, please don’t say it, it hurts way more than you would think.” he said, looking over at me, mouthing ‘are you ok?’

I nodded. I had everything I needed. I didn’t have to hide my relationship anymore, I had the person I love most right next to me, I couldn’t have asked for more. We ended the live after a little while and once it was over, Drew and I cuddled close and watched our show before I drifted off to sleep on his shoulder.

A/N: thanks for reading! I have posted a couple more parts that i forgot to post from my wattpad book. Also sorry if it’s bad I wrote this on 51 minutes of sleep and being awake since 2 am. (originally posted on Wednesday Feb 12th, around 3 am)

#obx #obx imagine #obx pogues #drew starkey #obx rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #outer banks

21 notes · View notes

jehan-d-art · 2 days ago

Text

@gayautisticraccoon you speak about projecting feelings for one person onto another person and more or less, even without saying it like that, about going for the more accepted option (aka a lifestyle as defined by a heteronormative society) even without actively making that decision or at least not making that decision with the knowledge that one is surpressing one’s true feelings.

Gaon loved Soohyun but I do think he was in denial regarding what kind of love he felt for her.

in a way I wanted to show just that, meaning that there are so many different kinds of love and that sometimes love can change into something else other than what one expected it to be but it can still be something that is not any less meaningful than what it could have been. it's simply something else. - to me, friendships or committed partnerships (no matter whether they are romantic, sexual, neither or both or something else altogether in nature) are in no way either more or less meaningful than the other, they simply are different kinds of relationships.

to be honest, I could have talked about any other fictional character and yet Gaon seemed the most fitting. in my opinion, he was never actually romantically interested in Soohyun. he always ever loved her dearly, felt comfortable and safe when she was with him and by his side, which of course shows a deep emotional connection.

though, here I think he talked himself into believing she was his first love. by not acting on those feelings, he kept their relationship vague enough because there were so many obvious signs that Soohyun was very much in love with him. I still wholeheartedly believe it was one-sided and that Gaon mistook his own feelings as him wanting to be with her romantically. however he also probably told himself he couldn't be with her because of how much he had already suffered (and that he would only drag her down with him if he tried being with her as the boyfriend she wanted him to be.)

the thing is, Gaon touches Yohan much more than he touches Soohyun and Gaon gets touched much more by Yohan in return. I acknowledge this is partially caused by them being the two main characters but here I think I also have to mention it is canon that Gaon basically takes the role of the traditional female lead - which makes Yohan the male lead and it shows that the two of them are constantly connected, be it by actions, by words or even by touch.

I have not yet mentioned the underlying tension between them, which, over time, changes from mutual distrust to mutual devotion and the want to keep the other safe.

oh and the dreams about each other... the one dream that stood out to me the most was when Gaon dreamt about Yohan performing that surgery: why would he dream about Yohan straddling and touching another man like that, while he talks in a voice that is more seductive than threatening? why would Gaon's mind come up with all that if it wasn't meant as some kind of slightly bizzare wet dream...

in the end, when Gaon thinks he has lost Yohan and when he is thus driven by his grief, he very nearly comes to the same tragic conclusion as his own mother: he very nearly ends his own life, attempting to follow the man he has fallen in love with (and I don't even know if Gaon is even aware of the depth of his feelings at that point).

long story short: I am certain Gaon projected all his possible romantic feelings onto Soohyun which wasn't fair to either one of them, though at least he never actually got together with her and ended up hurting both of them even more by forcing himself even more into trying to life a heteronormative life. in my opinion, Gaon started to let go of his comphet mindset when he got closer and closer to Yohan, emotionally and physically before he eventually ended up falling in love with him.

#the devil judge #tdj meta #the devil judge meta #kim gaon #kang yohan #gahan #gahan tdj

15 notes · View notes

toddtakefive · 9 months ago

Text

btw todd’s reluctance to join the dps because he doesn’t want to read (which is then accommodated for) and is scared to put himself out there (which is also worked through) being read as todd not wanting to go AT ALL, and thus neil making the proper accommodations (“todd anderson, who prefers not to read, will keep the minutes of the meetings”) and encouraging him to step out of the box that stifles him being seen as ‘forceful’ or like he can’t take no for an answer makes me insane with rage

#and him trying to stop neil from asking if todd not reading at the meetings is okay isn’t him wanting not to go #its him not wanting neil to ask because (as someone with social anxiety) it’s EMBARRASSING ASF for someone to ask for things on your behalf #literally just think about it as the meme of ‘when i tell my friend im hungry and he tells his mom that *i* want food instead of both of us’#and the whole ‘neil not knowing how to take no for an answer’ thing…… dont get me fucking started #the kid who’s had to take no for an answer his whole life? the kid whose first proper scene IS him taking no for an answer? are you serious?#being encouraging and accommodating and (admittedly) a little pushy when he’s got his mind set on something—#—is NAWT the same as not being able to take no for an answer or bulldozing through conversations with people #he and todd DO listen to each other in those conversations theyre just on opposing sides—#—because their understandings of the world don’t fully align at that point in time/the movie #which is totally fucking normal?????? because later on they DO properly align?????????#i feel so crazy about this every time i see someone say todd didn’t want to go the dead poets meetings because it’s so obvious he DID #he was just scared #and you know what maybe it IS a little forceful #but given how dedicated todd is to shutting off and hating and isolating himself he NEEDS a little forceful to be broken through to #if no one ever pushed me to do things when i was scared (as irritated as it can make me) i’d never do SHIT dude #and obviously todd is the same way because he ALL BUT OUTRIGHT SAYS AS MUCH #‘i appreciate this concern but i’m not like you’ IS about neil’s voice and opinions mattering to people but it’s ALSO about—#—him being outgoing and trying new things and putting himself out there #WHICH TODD WANTS TO BE ABLE TO DO!!!!!!!!#the moral you take away from todds growth is NOT that he has to change to be accepted because he DOESNT #its that he has to gain the confidence and belief in himself to grow and become the version of himself he WANTS to be #he NEVER changes on a fundamental level to make others happy (although his growth does make others happy) he just opens up more #and i dont know WHY some people think his arc is becoming a completely different person #like yall PLEASE #this isnt even an anderperry thing this is an issue even if you read them completely platonic #i blame the FUCKASS novelization…. dps book you will always be hated by ME #dps #dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson

17 notes · View notes

sonknuxadow · 10 months ago

Note

I’m honestly surprised that people are saying Keanu reeves is a bad choice despite the popular fan discussions about it. Where I’m at in the internet, he’s considered a good choice and people were excited.

i cant speak for everyone obviously but ive always thought he was a bad choice for shadow ever since the idea started going around 2 years ago. because from what ive heard personally he doesnt really sound like shadow + i hate it when big movie stars are given voice acting roles in movie adaptations just to have a big name attached to the project even if theyre not good for the role. and this definitely feels like that. back in the day people were only saying he should be shadow NOT because his voice actually fits but because hes an edgy action guy or whatever and movie sonic is canonically a fan of him/his movies and they could make jokes out of that. and i feel like thats Still what a lot of peoples reasoning is which annoys me because shadow isnt just an edgy action guy and i dont think his voice should be chosen based on a joke of all things especially if the voice isnt fitting enough to justify it

not gonna say my opinion is the most popular but i know that there are a lot of people who agree with me on this, or at the very least are unsure about it. a lot of people dont want him

#i also have to wonder how many people who wanted keanu or are excited about the supposed casting are actual sonic fans ....?#like im not trying to gatekeep or say anybody whos said he'd be a good fit is a fake fan or whatever #but . ive seen a lottt of dedicated sonic fans and people who are very familiar with shadow say they hate this #in fact most if not all people ive seen saying theyhate it are in that category #and ive also seen a lot of people whos interest in sonic ranges from very very casual to practically nonexistent comment on this too #and theyre the ones who only have positive things to say and think this is an epic win or something #so i have to wonder how popular a choice it is among not so casual sonic fans. particularly ones who really like shadow #compared to how popular a choice it is among the general internet #and not to be mean but i honestly think that actual fans' opinions matter more than random internet users' with this sort of thing lmao #asks #i suppose theres no way to know for certain right now if his voice would fit #since theres no clips of him specifically doing the voice that he would give to shadow #but. from what i personally have heard. he doesnt sound like shadow to me #not even in a ''different take than what im used to but still fits the character'' kind of way. just doenst work at all

13 notes · View notes

princesssarcastia · 10 months ago

Text

i have a problem with the theory that by not voting for democrats and letting democrats lose badly enough this november, we can force them to take a good hard look at themselves and swing to the left. well, actually, there are a couple problems, but here's tonight's object lesson:

the problem is the RNC Autopsy.

Republicans got pretty well spanked in the 2012 presidential election, and VERY well spanked in the 2008 presidential election. people decided not to vote for republicans, and let them lose so badly that the republican party took a good hard look at themselves.

The result was a report released in 2013, wiki page linked above. And they did exactly what some people on the left hope democrats will do in the coming years, should they lose in november 2024! They said hey, apparently being racist and hating poor people and only talking to whites isn't getting us anywhere! Why don't we try a different, kinder, more inclusive approach if we want to win elections?

Nice, right? Good proof of concept?

Unfortunately, history didn't stop in 2013.

Unfortunately, we all know how this story ends. It ends with a fascist reality TV star becoming president and encouraging the republican party that actually, its problem is that it wasn't racist and poor-hating enough. Actually, Trump told the republican party, your problem is that you've gone too long without saying the quiet part out loud. No more euphemisms, no more obfuscation, and definitely no movement to the left. Be full-throated in your hatred of immigrants.

And, like it or not, that did win Trump the election. Which convinced the republican party that he was right. They completely abandoned the ideas proposed in the RNC autopsy, and I don't know that they'll ever find their way back to that point.

So, when people say they don't want to support democrats, and they hope that by letting democrats lose the elections they'll move the democratic party to the left...i wouldn't be so sure.

In fact, if that happens, what I predict we'll see is a democratic party prepared to swing to the right. Sure, it'll still have a progressive wing. The Squad will live on. But they'll be increasingly ostracized by a party that will be even more obsessed with courting the forgotten white man, by toning down its inclusivity, by backing off of more expansive social safety nets and wealth taxes.

Like it or not—I certainly find it depressing to consider—Joe Biden is the most left-leaning president we've had in a long, long time. Certainly since Jimmy Carter, and perhaps since even before him. If he loses in November, if his party loses in November, I guarantee their washington insider strategists will find a way to blame it on progressiveness and walk us back at least a decade, if not more.

I'm not happy about any of this. But this is, I believe, the reality we're facing.

#'vote blue no matter who' crowd dni this isn't for you lol #really if progressives want a party of their own #what they should do is stage a hostile takeover of the democratic party #from the ground up #the same way maga republicans have staged a hostile takeover #of the republican party from the ground up #literally get a group of friends and join up with whatever county level activity there is #for the democratic party #voice your opinions get involved #vote yourselves into positions of power #and get to work #steve bannon is the devil given human form #but he did an incredible job engineering the takeover of the republican party #and we can learn well from his tactics #you only get to shape a party's politics #by participating in it #decisions are made by those who show up etc etc #rnc autopsy #republican party #democratic party #decision 2024

9 notes · View notes

laesas · 1 year ago

Text

Seeing someone's awful, self-righteous, bad faith, rage bait take and realising that you already have them blocked for their other dogshit opinions 👌👌👌

#barbie Ken voice: SUBLIME.#You know when someone identifies themselves as a queer poc and like leverages it in a way that is so cognitively dissonant and embarrassing?#like bro you're giving us hot qpocs a bad name youre scaring the hoes 💀💀💀 stoppppp 💀💀💀#You can't leverage your status as a poc over another poc #especially when you are specifically talking about Thai culture and the person you're bitching about is literally half thai #especially when all perth said was I had friends that would watch every BL religiously and now there's so much coming out that they can't #so ''I think the BL industry is becoming oversaturated because the target audience can no longer physically keep up with the output''#is a perfectly reasonable thing to say???#especially as someone that is looking for roles in said industry? like they don't want to be in an unwatched unprofitable show?#he is a professional BL actor he has worked on two of the most profitable BL's that have come out of Thailand in the last like 2 years #being like ''his professional opinion doesn't matter because he's straight''#and ''I clearly have more experience with the BL industry because I consume the finished product'' is. ??? questionable???? at best???#speaking as a queer person of colour who has 2 years experience in the TV industry: oversaturation is a word that is really commonly used #it is a real worry for people that are working in a genre and it's a way to say like what is going to be innovative and popular #and how can I get on that wagon #because it's a career you're not just looking at the output at the end (the show) you are looking at the entire process from start to finish #That's literally all Perth was doing???#sorry it upset your sensibilities as a BL consumer but he was talking from the perspective of a BL professional #anyway what the fuck ever lmao

5 notes · View notes

boobearymuch · 20 days ago

Text

Their Favorite Underwear (On You) —♡ LADS Headcanons

—♡Summary: They certainly have interesting preferences, that's for sure. —♡Tags: NSFW, suggestive, sex implied, afab!reader, no pronouns used, fingering, panty sniffing/licking —♡A/N: done staring at this I'm throwing it out into the wild —♡ masterlist

—♡ Caleb

Caleb’s favorite pair of underwear on you is somewhat an innocent pick. A worn out pair of cotton panties you’ve had since high school.

They have some kind of pattern—either horizontal stripes, flowers, a repeating print of the cookie monster—doesn’t matter, he loves it all.

They remind him of simpler times—laundry day when you were younger—and how they’d get caught up in his own load by accident. You’d flush bright red when he stopped by your door to drop them off, but he’d just throw his head back with a laugh and tell you it's fine.

He’s never told you how close he came to pocketing them instead.

In the present, he’s found himself on laundry duty again. The colonel is dumping your basket of dirty clothes into the washer when a familiar pair of cotton panties fall in.

He doesn’t even bother looking around; Caleb reaches for them, breath hitching when he realizes they’re the same pair from before. He can’t believe you still have them. You really ought to buy some new clothes…

Something dark—hot—coils in his belly when he turns the gusset inside out and lifts the fabric to his trembling lips.

It smells divine—a little on the tangy side, but he’ll make sure you drink more water from here on out.

Then his tongue finally laps at the inner lining, and Caleb’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head.

His hips jerk against the washing machine just thinking about sinking his tongue into your actual—

Your voice abruptly floats down the hall, some question he can barely hear, and Caleb tells you he’ll be right there.

Perhaps he will pocket these for later, after all…

—♡ Xavier

Xavier’s favorite pair of underwear on you…is actually his own.

His boxer briefs are basically yours at this point.

When you sleep over and need a change of clothes, he just lets you borrow his; which is how you end up in an oversized shirt and boxer briefs in the first place.

Seeing you in his clothes is a thrill of its own, but seeing you in his underwear?

It’s an entirely new level of intimacy that has his ears burning red and his slow heart skipping a beat.

You wouldn’t wear just anyone’s underwear to bed, you’re wearing his.

He gets oddly clingy when you do, sliding in behind you in bed and nuzzling your shoulder as you scroll through your phone.

You make some comment about a post you saw, but he’s hardly listening. Instead, his hand is sliding down your hip, stroking the fabric of his underwear and the heat of your skin. It brings a soft smile to his lips.

Xavier can’t help but think the slit of his boxer briefs is silly on you, sliding his fingers inside to gently stroke your pubes. It’s usually innocent, he just likes the texture.

But the hitch of your breath darkens his gaze, and Xavier gently coaxes you to continue scrolling as his hand sinks lower…

He hums in response to your little moan, fingers curling up into your slick heat. His other hand reaches around to take the phone out of your faltering grip and slams it against the nightstand.

Xavier’s selfish, he admits—he doesn’t want you distracted by anything else while you’re wearing his clothes, his underwear…

You need to borrow another pair of boxer briefs by the time he’s done with you.

—♡ Zayne

Zayne’s favorite pair of underwear on you is not one you expected—thongs. He’s secretly crazy for them. Well, that might be an overstatement—but he enjoys the sight of you in them very much.

You’re surprised to learn about Zayne’s preference, though he doesn’t readily disclose it at first. You have to feign trouble picking between two sets of underwear first, and shove your phone into his face for an opinion.

“...The one on the right.” The cool response is only betrayed by a fervent blush on his cheeks.

He likes slipping his fingers under the thin string, teasing and tugging. It leaves very little to the imagination; straight to the point.

Your order comes in, and Zayne secretly watches you slide them up your legs as you both get ready for a banquet. It’s all his mind keeps wandering back to throughout the night.

Not only are you wearing underwear he picked out, but you’re wearing them to mingle with his colleagues. A rather distracting thought, isn’t it?

At one point during the night, you bend over to grab something, and the lack of a panty line reminds Zayne all over again what you’re sporting underneath.

He approaches calmly, interrupting a conversation with his colleagues by wrapping an arm around your waist.

His excuse to leave early is well thought out—you suspect he’s had it in mind since arriving—but you’re barely listening when his hand wanders low.

It slides down your backside, and he absently thumbs the string of your thong through the fabric of your dress.

…The car ride home is a short one, to say the least.

—♡ Sylus

If you asked Sylus, he’d say he prefers you in no underwear at all.

But, if he had to choose, he’s rather fond of a simple red lace. Comfortable, practical, sexy.

Not to mention, red is absolutely your color. The fact that it’s his too is merely a…happy coincidence.

When he’s stocking up your closet in the N109 zone, Sylus makes sure to order only the best luxury brands exclusively in various shades of red.

The idea of you sauntering around base in his color is enough to make him purr at the sight of you, even when your underwear isn’t visible.

He makes a game out of guessing what pair you have on; is it the scarlet one with bows? Or perhaps the strappy maroon?

Sylus finds out at dinner; you’re laughing at some ridiculous story when you uncross your legs, and there’s a flash of vermilion underneath your skirt.

The one with heart cutouts? My my, you only wear that one when you want something…

His eyes roam you up and down as you continue your story, but you stumble over your words when a swirling red mist drags your chair closer to his.

You were quite bold for wearing such a bright color in public, and if anyone other than him was to catch sight of it…

Well, we can’t have that, can we?

Your breath hitches when his hand roams your thigh, smug eyes never leaving yours. His calloused fingers ghost the hem of your skirt, and your words trail off in anticipation of what’s to come next.

Sylus grips the fabric and tugs your skirt��down.

Your face burns as he leans back with a chuckle, “You were saying?

—♡ Rafayel

Rafayel’s favorite pair of underwear? Brazilian panties, next question.

They sit high above your hip bones while accentuating the curve of your tummy; absolutely divine.

Of course, you look divine in everything; hell, you’d look perfect in only a seashell to cover your modesty. But something about the aesthetic of these panties, specifically, gets him insanely hot and bothered.

He brings you back gifts from his trip overseas, but he flushes and fervently denies having anything to do with the three pairs of panties tucked behind the body lotions and skincare.

Rafayel quickly changes his tune when you suggest modelling them for him, though.

That’s how you end up changing into them right then and there, a minty lace pair with a little satin rose sewn to the front. You rejoin Rafayel, who’s been waiting patiently on his bed.

Rafayel can’t speak, only tugs the back of your thigh closer as he swallows thickly.

Your pubes peek out the sides due to the nature of the design, and you make an offhand comment about shaving the next time you wear them. Rafayel immediately shakes his head—as if offended—and grips the sides of your hips, thumbs hiking the side wings further up.

He flushes, and his nostrils flare right before he lowers his head to lick a stripe up your lace front.

His tongue burns through the fabric, and the Lemurian lets out a shuddering breath against your stomach. You barely register the chill down your spine when he licks you again, this time his teeth catching on the waistband.

You never get to try the other two pairs on for him…

5K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 3 months ago

Text

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

5K notes · View notes

ihopeinevergetsoberr · 3 months ago

Text

academic rivals request! viktor x fem!reader, nsfw

request: @4-leafed pls... if u have time pls write a viktor x reader that r both geniuses at the academy but very much toe the line of rivalry and sexual tension...i love competitive smart people that fall in love when the rivalry becomes respect ... and they FREAK IT!!! possibly in a lab ! up to you : 3c

i liked this request so much that i ended up writing a decent-ish one-shot….

update: i wrote a part 2 because it was highly requested! you can read it here :)

rating: explicit

word count: 3,5k

warnings: academic rivals. LOTS of dialogue and bickering. dubious science because i skipped it in school, had to do some basic chemistry revision to write this pornographic catastrophe, so please pat me on the back. rough sex? rough… foreplay, that’s for sure. dirty talk, if you can call bickering that. penetration. reader tries to slap viktor, spits in his mouth and he cums in his pants. normally, i only write vanilla stuff, so i have no idea how it turned out THIS kinky (at least for me okay). not proofread (yet). nsfw under the cut:

—

“How do you take your coffee?”

His voice betrays the feeble intention of civility, fusing that polite inquiry into a hiss—a phonetic torture you didn’t even know could occur before. So much for killing you with kindness. Outstaging quips by desecrating courtesies.

“I don’t care,” you mutter on autopilot. Can’t let him in on any personal preferences, no matter how insignificant. “Just don’t put arsenic in it.”

Viktor scoffs. Puts the kettle away and peers at you over his shoulder, all wretchedly complacent.

“So the rest of the periodic table is welcome, I presume?”

Viktor. The local Nikola Tesla knock-off. Never a moment of peace with him; and the fierce taste of competition grows coppery in your mouth whenever he’s in your sight—the most handsome trigger of your cheek-biting reflex.

His name is an insult on your lips and you want to taste it. Chew it, crush it with your teeth and spit right out, preferably aiming for those poignant eyes seeking you in every classroom—so eager to light up with objection the second your opinion differs from his.

Always the first prick to disparage your input. A never-resting generator of all the meticulous ways to denounce your projects.

“If I may.”

Sickeningly polite, too. With that lithe finger pointing in the air— so irritatingly comical. He may not, but there isn’t a chance he’ll shut up, now, is there?

And so he’d clear his throat, straightening his tie in that ridiculously solemn fashion. As if stepping on a pedestal to deliver a life-changing speech—not some shallow nitpicking regarding your circuit breakers. All eyes on him while his kept staring only into your soul. Special treatment, if you will.

You will not.

“Using magnetic frames is careless,” he’d state. With his hand imposingly pointing to the blueprint on your slide. “Copper coils may oxidize. Not to mention the overheating. I would use thermoplastics. They’re significantly more efficient. And heat-resistant.”

Oh please. Like someone here gives a shit about what you’d use.

But you can’t say that. Not in a room full of professors. And, judging from the countless nods of approval, the shits were, in fact, being given.

“Too risky,” you oppose. “Thermoplastics often degrade at high temperatures. Electric insulation is not worth the damage of releasing hydrocarbons. I assumed that you’d be aware of that, Viktor. But I suppose that was an omission on my part.”

More nods of approval, now in your favour. Here it goes again—the ever-lasting spectacle of hatred. Elegant, when entertaining the audience. Anything but discreet, in private. A perpetually drawn game of chess. By repetition, not agreement. Both of you refuse to retreat until checkmate.

Oh yes, the sentiment was mutual. You and Viktor were notorious for tearing at each other's throats. The things you’d sacrifice to make that more than a mere metaphor, though. To pull him by that neat tie to sweet asphyxiation and hear him rasp for mercy with eyes full of pathetic condemnation. And he dreamed of that, too. His cane was itching to give you a smack—to paint your behind a plum so deep you’ll have troubles sitting without wincing. When it came to making metaphors literal, he’d pick being the pain in your ass.

However, your mentors couldn’t care less about the rivalry. The Collegiate Inventors Competition was coming up. And who could possibly make better candidates than two greatest minds of the engineering department, with academic excellence so accurately neck and neck that both of your names now occupy the honorary first place in every ranking table?

That’s how you ended up with your sentence—three weeks of after-hours cooperation in the lab with the incorrigible bastard himself, a quarter of which you’d already successfully wasted on pointless bickering. Well, not without achieving some common grounds. The choice of prototype landed on one of your personal ambitions—a wearable exoskeleton for post-surgery rehabilitation, with plenty of robotics involved. Endorsed by Viktor, for once. The greater good must have swallowed even his dispute. Off to a nice start, if someone were to ask you.

However, the first issues struck early: on the very stage of development. Viktor volunteered for modelling: meaning, the framework would be custom, to accommodate his spine specifically. An object lesson for everyone involved, it would seem—but only in an ideal world. Which, considering what you had at hand (acrimony, bitterness, an entire picky bit of gall), was filtered out by default.

Now, five gruesome days and who’s-even-counting-anymore restarts later, you’re nowhere near close to at least a draft, yet borderline keen on murdering each other. And you’re certain the latter is approaching. He did just contemplate putting arsenic in your cup, after all.

Viktor stirs the coffee. Watches his reflection smudge in the dark, whirly water, shooting you an askance glance from beneath thick brows when you start stirring yours—the spoon clanking a tad too loud, as if you were doing it on purpose. Which, you undoubtedly were.

“Stop that,” he groans, almost leaping out of his chair. Heavy, disturbed gaze meets your cheeky simper. “You don’t have to stir it so thoroughly. It’s not like you take it with sugar anyway.”

“Of course.” You shrug. “I don’t drink slop.”

“Oh, I figured. There’s nothing sweet about you, so why would your coffee be any different?”

“There’s plenty of sweetness about me. I simply don’t squander it on entitled pricks.”

That finally grounds him. And you’re giddy for the way his sturdy hand grips the cup so hard that it almost shatters into his palm, knuckles growing pale enough to match the porcelain. More so when you take a loud, languid sip, feigning innocence. Fully wallowing in his darling, defeated speechlessness.

“Excuse you,” he mutters. “Entitled?!”

“So you agree with the ‘prick’ part?”

“Yes, and I take great pride in it. You may mark me flustered.”

“Don’t forget to bust in your pants.”

Viktor sneers: chapped lip twitching, scowl growing defensive. Lanky legs untangle as he rises to his feet, towering above you in an angry lean on his cane—long frame transforming into your personal, scrawny menace, pissed exhale sharp and nasal above your head. And you admit to looking small beneath him—all hunched shoulders, weak smile finally tumbling lopsided.

“Don’t you dare call me entitled,” he demands—and means it. It’s palpable in the way he twists the handle of his cane, the squeaky sound violently scratching your brain. “I sweated blood to achieve my privileges in this establishment.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “So did I, and yet you keep ordering me around as if I’m some braindead apprentice. We’re counterparts, Viktor. You’re supposed to be mindful of my perspective.”

“I never see you being mindful of mine,” he counters.

And, well. You can’t argue with that.

Your coffee break continued in avoidant silence, but the ambience simply reeked of hostility—stifling enough to make you leave the lab feet first. The deadline’s chokehold besieging your neck wasn’t of any help, either—you had to submit the draft for approval by Sunday. And, so far, you haven’t even agreed on the design plan.

You shoot Viktor a reluctant glance. Pensive, he sat slouched over his parchment, emitting pure peril. Like his shoulder blades might stab you if you attempt a single tap, belligerently peeking through the thin shirt. You tucked your lip under your teeth, chewing hard, tongue running over every small, neurotic wound inside your mouth. Fruitless negotiations held a special spot amongst your least favourite endeavours, but this conundrum called for a desperate measure.

“Viktor.” You winced at how chocked up it came out. He noticed that, too—because of course he did—turning in his chair to nod at you, ever so shit-eatingly. Lancing eyes scrutinised their way up to your face. What an affront.

“Yes?” Always chiding in that condescending tone of his. Hissy ‘s’ echoed in the lab, gnawing at your nerves.

“We have to submit something by the end of this week. Let’s at least decide on the blueprint.”

“Fine.” He shrugged, returning to his sketch. “We’re going with mine.”

“No!” You snapped. “We’re coming up with a new one. Together.”

Viktor hummed in mock consideration. The strand of hair he’s been twirling unraveled, claiming more attention than you deemed him worthy of. Sighing, he lazily reached for your graph, frowning as his eyes started skimming over the scribbles. You made your way to the desk, claiming a spot behind his shoulder. That required a tacit truce.

“You really want to wield… hydraulic actuators?” He winced, looking up at you. Had your breath hitching at that respectful attempt, the effort prominent in the very way he uttered those words—as if struggling to filter out swear ones.

“Yes,” you mustered. “For high power.”

“But they’re so heavy.”

“Well, what would you use?”

He chuckled—rich and malicious. Flipped the page and finally averted those curious eyes, arching a bushy brow.

“I thought no one gave a… crap about what I’d use.”

Oh, well. It felt nice while it lasted.

“How did you even—“

“You ought to be more discreet with your vitriol,” he retorted. “I’ll let you know that I’m a decent lip-reader.”

“Then don’t stare at my mouth next time. What would you use, Viktor?”

Now that left you both startled. His fingers stilled above the diagram, flexing in disbelief, hollow cheeks hued a puzzled rouge as you almost chomped your tongue off, showing an embarrassed curse back into the depth of your throat.

“Ahem. Electric motors,” he chanted, pretending to overlook the slip-up. And for once, you were grateful for his tact.

“I see. Well, er… put that down, please.”

He instantly complied, fetching a pen. Left you to reflect on your misery to the rhythmic sound of his scrawling, pressing a sweaty palm to his forehead.

“Right.” He sighed. “What about the power supply?”

“Rechargeable batteries?” You suggested weakly. “Lithium-ion.”

“Very well. Frame?”

“Something durable. Titanium?”

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed, pushing the notes away. “Why must you always insist on using the heaviest equipment?”

“I don’t know, corrosion resistance?” You muttered back, hovering over him. “Biocompatibility?”

“That’s perfectly manageable with carbon fiber!”

“So it shatters after the tiniest bump? Bravo, Viktor, how ingenious.”

He lurches forward—rigid breath quivering over yours. Close enough to crush that thick skull with your forehead—if only you ventured, that is. But, alas, you’re not as brave just yet. Some brief eye-stabbing is about all you’re good for.

“Fine,” he agrees, pulling away. “We’ll use aluminium alloys. Corrosion resistant and easy to machine. No one wins. Does that suffice?”

“Yes. Now will you finally let me take your measurements for the sketch?”

He doesn’t answer—at least not verbally. Merely stands up and nods to the measuring tape, face still heavily contorted with displeasure. But you don’t oblige just yet. How can you, when Viktor’s fingers suddenly reach for his collar, fumbling with the button? And—oh no—now they’re sliding lower, reiterating once, twice, thrice, until his chest (flushed, but that might just be wishful thinking) is fully peeking out, teasing the smooth scrap of ivory skin.

“What… are you doing?” You mumble, utterly startled.

“…Undressing?” He says matter-of-factly, looking up at you so askance as if you’d just asked him if the sky is blue. One more ministration and the shirt is neatly folded next to the parchment—waiting for you to be through with the measurements to be slid back on his bony shoulders.

“That, I can tell,” you mumble. “Why did you undress?”

Viktor’s gaze daggers into you again. “Don’t tell me you were actually intending to measure me clothed? Can you not comprehend precision?”

“Precision?”

“The prototype is expected to cling to me. I don’t see how that’s achievable with my shirt on— I assumed that was rather obvious.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Ah, sweet civility. I even started worrying that other entitled pricks must’ve depleted your decorum, but it seems like you saved some up for me after all. I’m flattered, really—“

You don’t even register when it happens.

Next thing you see is Viktor seizing your wrist—sternly yanking your slap off his face before it gets the chance to land there in a flared handprint. Nothing but pure rage and prickliness—right where his short nails are lancing your skin, engraving an ugly bracelet you’ll wear for hours.

Well, maybe there is something else. Something inexplicable, and tremendous—deep in the way your eyes keep drifting south—where his pants sling low on defined hips, and the pretty trail of dark hair runs from navel to waistband—no doubt circling exactly what you manage to make out in the convex slope of his crotch. And you want to slap him for that, too—sonorous, and frenetic. Going in again with full force, but his force always turns out to be fuller—and in an instance he firmly twists your arm, pinning it behind your back—pale face barely five inches away from your flushed one.

What happens next is beyond any explanations. Later, he’ll blame it on inertia—that stupid urge to maintain the speed, to stay in motion with your messy antics until some external force stops him—a simple need to claim you before the inevitable collision.

But there’s no inertia in escalation. In the way his free hand grabs you by the nape and clashes agape mouths together, teeth bumping hard enough to make you consider booking a dentist appointment later. Not a sign of inertia when you grab him, either—a little clumsy through the sharp pain in your twisted arm—bold fingers raking his scalp in a vengeful tug on his hair.

And it’s more than a kiss. If anything, it looks like you’re trying to eat him—tongue out and thrusting into his throat so fiercely that he gags on it, almost tearing up. Now you know what sheer desperation sounds like, and it’s grunting against your mouth, suddenly pitching to a pathetic moan when you grab a handful of chestnut hair and pull so hard that his eyes roll back, lean frame shaking under your violent approach. You use that startled momentum to try and pry your arm free, but he still keeps it in place.

“You’re hurting me!” You hiss, attacking his neck—the very one you always shamefully admitted to finding the sexiest any man can possess, and your teeth roughly pinch at his voice box, coaxing another whine.

“Good.” He groans with spite. “I hope I am.”

And yet, he releases your aching arm, trading it for a calculated squeeze of your waist. But the audacity overshadows his little mercy. You instantly use the unrestrained privileges to force a finger into his mouth—astounded at the way he instantly opens up, almost mockingly pliant. More so when you spit on his tongue, sparing no shame—as if trying to rile him up beyond recognition. Grinning, when your saliva dribbles down his chin.

“Ah.” He huffs, instantly licking up the remnants. “Thank you. Ever so disrespectful.”

“You haven’t earned my respect,” you lie, nudging him towards the chair. Not even bothering to wait until he lands, impatient hands already messing with his belt—so treacherously earnest as you shake, unfastening the buckle, and the bastard chuckles at that, looking down at your eager work.

“That’s a new low, then,” murmurs coyly, helping you into his lap, heavy head leisurely thrown back. “Sleeping with someone you don’t respect.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh yes. You’re about to.”

You glare at him from under heavy lids, but the anger refuses to linger—not when he stares back full of indignant awe, so clearly basking in your attention. With his cock half-springing out of undone pants, shamelessly twitching against your palm. And not a single breath was hitched to conceal his excitement.

“Must you always be so insufferable?” You reproach, pushing his hair back—too domestic for your own liking, and yet it doesn’t feel unfitting. Especially when he leans into your hand, welcoming your touch on his sweaty forehead—like he wanted you to feel it fever up with want.

“No.” He shakes his head. “But if it can grant me this, I’ll triple the effort.”

“What happened to new lows? You don’t have a fraction of respect for me, either.”

“You’re right.” He shrugs. “Fractions could never encapsulate my tribute to you.”

And his hand slipped under your skirt, shakily crawling home—precisely where you’d never confess to needing him a mere minute ago. But the sentiment did a decent job at diluting your rancour. There came no protest when he introduced two long fingers into your underwear, openly gasping at the evident dampness. And you allowed him that with no regrets. Moreover, you helpfully sank yourself knuckle deep, wincing at the brief burn, arms wrapping around his neck as he sweetly looked up, seeking your permission. Which was instantly found in the pretty moan you spilled into his mouth, slick tongues back at their futile attempts to strangle each other.

However, your patience was running thin. As much as you wanted to indulge in proper foreplay, whatever masochistic dance he exposed you to had you in agony ever since it started—and it was getting unbearable to ignore the ache, no matter how bad Viktor craved to postpone the main course.

Your thighs clenched hard as you crouched above him, fingers wrapping around the hilt to awkwardly line the tip up with your cunt—the slick sound of it slowly sliding down suddenly igniting some tender bashfulness. Like you didn’t just spit in his mouth with a vile smirk. Like he never had to confine you from slapping him in the face.

That stretch felt different from the one after his fingers. Significantly richer, it made you whine—a pitiful sound reverberating against his skin as you held on tighter and allowed him to bottom out, savouring every little crevice inside you. Raw, yet neither of you seemed to care—that concern was pushed alongside your underwear, then forgotten altogether when your walls clenched him, offering tight bliss.

“Move,” you demanded, grabbing him by the chin. Viktor rasped something back, but you didn’t catch it—already too busy tongue-fucking his pretty neck, turning your teeth into sharp tools ready to stain it mauve with bites.

And he complied again. One hand trembled on your hip while the other crawled between your legs—first missing your clit in the chaotic pace of thrusts, then finding it again as it grazed his fingertips. So cheeky when he dared to pinch it, avenging every pull on his hair. Though, he couldn’t gloat in your wince. Not when it clearly was one of the pleasured kind.

But you didn’t feel like letting him regain composure. You already missed his husky groans—ached to test what else fucking you could make him mutter. Fogy gaze found his face again, softening at the sight—all wet forehead full of concentrated creases and thin lips bitten to bloodless paleness.

You took over. Let him lean back and rest as you roughly rode him into the chair—and for that he gave you a grateful moan, the insistent thumb toying with your clit never stopping even for an instant. Good with his hands, and he knew it—proudly grinned when you struggled to keep going, taut legs treacherously giving up astride him.

That didn’t please you in the slightest. You wanted him to be close, too: slid a hand up his chest and angrily tugged at one nipple—chortling when his mouth dropped in a stunned gasp. Bewildered, but he didn’t mind it—amber eyes squeezed shut when his head lolled, and you finally got his lovely moans back—raspier than before, ravenous enough to make your head spin.

You could already feel it, pulsing somewhere deep within. Blurry vision couldn’t make him out anymore, the lab smudging into a mess of weird shapes—you were about to cum, hard, and Viktor threatened to follow suit any second—his thumb failing to hold steady, and yet the pressure was still there, courtlesly helping you chase that sweet relief. Such a gentleman.

“Close,” you chanted. “So, so close.”

“I know,” he answered, choking on a groan. “Me too.”

And you melted, almost crushing him with your weight. Quivering in a spasm so intense that it had him struggling to keep moving, and yet he was mindful of the risk—used the last fractions of his brain capacity to gently nudge you off his cock and pump it fast and hectic. Cumming in one endlessly thick rope, with a moan so vocal that it reached you even through the layers of foggy, ear-buzzing aftermath. Had you shuddering when you clung off his shoulder, glassy eyes wide with trembling astonishment. You stared at him through the approaching wave of disbelief.

No signs of regret so far, or maybe it was simply still forming—for now, you silently admired not a snarky bastard, but a pretty, fucked out boy beneath you.

“Oh, would you look at that.” Viktor chuckled, sheepishly looking down. “I didn’t forget.”

“What?” You mumbled in confusion, following his gaze.

And when it finally caught your attention—sticky and relentlessly staining his pants—you slammed a hand over your mouth, muffling the hysterical laughter.

“And here I thought I finally fucked your remarkable memory out.”

“Oh, by no means. As, eh… intense as that was, that misery of mine is not going anywhere. However,” he trailed off, his hand skittishly moving towards yours, “sex clearly proved beneficial for our… dynamic.”

You smile, sliding your palm into his warm grasp.

“Can it ensure us enough civility to win the competition?”

And Viktor scoffs, coyly looking you in the eye.

“Why should we limit it to just that?”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor arcane smut #viktor x fem!reader #arcane smut #viktor arcane x reader #no beta we die #viktor x f!reader

4K notes · View notes

rex3o · 2 months ago

Text

Doting wife p2

Royal au! Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna sat on his throne, his face intense as his son plays around him. His advisors standing quietly in front him their heads bowed. His mind lingered on the event that was a couple weeks ago. Since then, he has not stopped.

Every dinner, he makes sure that whatever is served is to your liking, just to see your happy silent reaction when eating. He has ordered the servants to tend to the royal gardens, to plant specific flowers according to your preferences. Just to watch you walk around the garden with your son and enjoy the flowers. He made you go horse riding with him, just to talk about things you liked.

During his meetings with his advisors he would call for you and ask your opinion on certain matters in his meetings with his advisors.

Yet he knows you still hold yourself back around him, he knows you silently enjoy the effort he is putting despite getting onto him during the event. Though your silent enjoyment and appreciation is enough for him. He longs for more.

He longs for you to willing spend time with him again. He longs for your attention and care he had stupidly taken granted for.

His mind settles back into reality as one of his advisors had briefly mentioned about getting his son's portrait painted for his fourth birthday. There it struck sukuna.

You huffed as you stood by your mirror, as your lady in waiting examined the maids handling your gown ensuring it was perfect for the portrait. As they tended your hair, and make up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Several hours alone with Sukuna. You pondered 'why' ever since you got the news that Sukuna had requested a new royal portrait of you two. You had one which was done a couple days after your wedding and not one since. So why one now?

Lost in thought, the maids finished and you made your way mindlessly towards the main hall, with your lady in waiting behind you. As you looked up, the painter smiled at you motioning you to sit next to Sukuna, as he is ready to paint. Your lady in waiting helped you up to your seat, whilst doing some finishing touches and ensured your dress was quite fine as she walked back to the painter as he started sketching.

The first few minutes, was met with silence. You remained still, only toying with the ring on your finger, as the only thing heard in the room was the harsh streaks of the pencil against the canvas.

"You look beautiful" he utters out quietly for you both to hear. You simply nod in response.

Sukuna tries to carry the conversation by asking how your day had been, if you had eaten, or how your son was and what he did. Till he softly sighs and glances at you.

"I miss you." he says.

"I am right here husband.. no need to miss me" You say without much emotion not wanting to be vulnerable.

"you know what I mean..." as he looks back up.

"I see how your face lights up at dinner, I watch how you enjoy your time in the gardens with our son. How you only like reading a certain genre of books.. how you only like to drink tea in the evening after dinner...how you despise insects after our horse riding trip."

He hesistatess before continuing.

"I wish you would share such moments with me again.. instead of me observing it from a distance. I want to hear how much you like the food that has been served. I want to walk along with you in the gardens with our son, as you ramble on whatever it is you like.. I want to drink tea with you- I just want to be with you again..."

You sat next to him somewhat speechless. Your hand gripping on the ring on your finger tightens as you take a sharp inhale and exhale holding composure.

"Why.. why has it taken you this long." Quickly and quietly you ask not wanting your voice to break. As your eyes remain on the painter and your lady in waiting. Afraid if you lay your eyes upon your husband tears will rush out.

"I have no excuse my wife.. the best way I can put it into words for you, is watching a candle burn down to its final flicker. Once it's gone and the darkness closes in, you finally understand how much that small, steady glow meant. You were that light in my life.. and i took it for granted."

He sighs as he continues "I am sorry it has taken me to loose you to understand the importance you hold in my life"

As he rests his large hand over yours.

"I may not have given you the love you well deserved over the past four years, but let me make the most of the years we have left to make it up to you. I will take however long it takes."

His hand wraps round yours as he takes it up and gently places a kiss on your knuckles. A tear slips down your face, which you quickly wipe away.

"it won't be easy-" you try to say yet Sukuna interrupts you.

"I know my sweet wife.. I know." As you finally look at him, his deep crimson eyes resting on yours. A quiet pull to one another, urging to be met.

Yet the moment broken by the painter looking up and exclaiming.

"Yes, yes, yes, the look of love keep that look your majesties, I need exactly that! and just you wait your portrait will overshadow any other." He says happily as he starts to paint.

Sukuna face having a subtle annoyance stretched over it, you chuckle quietly.

After the tedious hours of sitting for this portrait ends. The only thing keeping you going was your small conversations with Sukuna, as he his hand remained on yours not wanting to let go. You both walk over to see the work of art. As it depicted you sat facing forward with a soft smile on your face, with Sukuna next to you his hand over yours with his eyes on you.

An arm wrap around your waist, as Sukuna praises the painter.

"You definitely did outdo yourself, look at my wife" he exclaims as he looks at you. Not used to his attention you awkwardly chuckle and avoid his look. His hand grabbing your chin pulling your face up as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"My beautiful wife... you know what let's hold a celebration." Your eyes widen at the sudden plan.

"Over a portrait- no- that's too much." you interject.

"Hush, once people set their eyes upon this portrait they will understand why I had to hold such a celebration" Sukuna smirks at you.

You try to continue, but Sukuna doesn't let you as he looks at your lady in waiting.

"Next Wednesday I want the celebration, ensure my wife glows I want it to be about her-" As you try to speak Sukuna keeps cutting in on what to do for the event.

"Next Wednesday is my birthday!'" A small angry voice is heard, you laugh as your son did what you couldn't. He runs over as Sukuna picks up him.

"Apologises brat, then let it be his birthday AND a celebration-" Sukuna orders as your son continues to whine that it is his birthday.

In that moment, everything goes silent on your mind, as your gaze fixed on your husband and son, as you anxiously anticipated the oncoming years on your relationship with your husband.

The new painting embarking a new chapter in your rekindled love.

part 1

Authors note: OMLLLL thank you all so much for enjoying the first part guys oml- and im so sorry this took long to come out I was kinda busy w work and shii loool also like I was kinda stumped on how to continue this from the first chapter as I really didn't think further to continue it till ppl started asking for it. So, i am sorry if it seems a bit rushed. But I do hope this chapter does some sort of justice but unfortutnately I will only be leaving it at 2 parts and nothing more.

- R

#ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #jjk fanfic #jjk sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x oc #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fluff #ryoumen sukuna #jjk x reader

3K notes · View notes