#Gazebo Sun Shade

[helpinghands4az]

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[dunsterhouseblogs]

A gazebo creates a shaded and sheltered space in your garden. Perfect for relaxing or entertaining through any weather.

https://dunsterhouse.co.uk/garden-structures/wooden-gazebos/leviathan-open-gazebo-w6-0m-x-d3-2m

[abccanopy]

Yesterday's off-road race was so thrilling! Every turn, every obstacle was a challenge. Competing with other drivers was exhilarating, and each overtake felt like a victory.

[scara-writes]

paramour

Yandere!Cheating Duke X Duchess! Reader X Yandere!Lover Servant

I just want to write a reader who has the same/more power as/to the yandere(s).

The setting is still in the fantasy/manhwa world, medivial, any setting as long it's not modern.

CW: two yandere, rivals, cheating, consent smut, infidelity.

I'm making the darling a little more forward(?), daring, more power or that can go against a yandere. Atleast, that's what the darling thinks. Also, this is not polished like my other stories.[ Forgive me, I'm not good with smuts! I also love y'all comments and your ask/request(will answer them soon!). The Yandere Emperor and Yandere Crown Prince son really outnumbered the yandere Omega. Y'all are crazy for that!]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Mistress." He murmured. His arms hadn't let go off your waist. It was the first thing your eyes landed on when the sunlight came in to greet a new day from the window balcony. You closed your eyes again to find your way back to sleep again.

Your hands went to trace his back full of scar last night from your nails. You hummed when he gave you a pepper kisses on your exposed skin.

"Morning." He gave you one last kiss on your lips before snuggling between your chest. His arms hadn't move around your waist since last night."Mmmh..morning..." You muttered looking away—eyes still close—from the sun when it kissed your face.

"Do you want me to call the maids to serve you breakfast?" His sweet voice lull to sleep more. You whispered no. Last night, this man gave you something akin to that of heaven, something your husband never gave you.

Last night, you made love with this man. The same man you rescued from the human trafficking, kidnapping commoner from the outskirts of the kingdom. Now, indebted by your kindness he devout himself to you with his life.

You groaned, feeling your body is aching all over. This goes not unnoticed by your lover."Did I hurt you to bad?" He asked. His earth orbs are gleaming with shine and now getting filled with tears. "I-I'm sorry, I was rough with you mistress." His voice full of regret and loathe on himself.

You opened your eyes, ruffling his curly brown hair before stroking it. Staring down at his eyes. "No. You did good." You smiled at him, cupping his face, before kissing him in the lips. He whimpered,deepening his into yours.

The intoxication of alcohol must have taken over you. Drowning yourself from the alcohol beverages after your husband didn't arrive on the scheduled date, you waited for him for a whole day to arrive. Alone in the gazebo, Everett was the one who went to your weeping figure. That was a month ago. Everett offered himself to shower you with his love. At first you feel reluctant about this, you will never be the type of person to use someone just so you can feel yourself happy. Everett didn't care about it whether you use him or not. He wanted to prove himself that you are worth to be love. This man made your heart flutter in a way that your husband once gave you before the marriage.

"I-I love what happened last night, my mistress." He whispered bashfully, his pretty swollen lower lip,you bitten hard last night, went to reach his eyes giving you a wide smile. The sun kissed his tan face adding a charming look. His neck has full of bites and bruises from you. His cheeks become a little darker shade from blushing, he must have reminisced something last night.

Now, you made him your lover. Though not completely in love with Everett. You also shower him with items or materials that most commoners would love to have but it doesn't seem like this man is materialistic. He just wants you.

You didn't hide Everett to your husband.

What's the use of hiding your fling to Theodore when he was the first one to cheat on this marriage?

Despite being loyal to that man you loved. He had the audacity to tell you that you shouldn't pry on his private his life after you confronted him with a newly hired maid going out. "Our marriage contract states that the two parties should not meddle one another's private life else this contract shall be annuled."

So all of his flexing his love for you was nothing but a hoax? A show? A lure for you to agree to marry him?

Though, your marriage with him was for the politcial marriage. You once fell in love with Theodore. The same man who gave you flowers everytime you two date, the same man who kissed in your cheeks after he walk you home, the same man who always writes poems about his devotion to you. Did he pursuade you to continue this marriage by making you love him so that the two duchy became one? It may seem like you wanted this marriage at first. You didn't, your family wanted it and they have asked you—no annoyingly, they plead you to marry him, because your parents and his parents signed a contract that their children will reunite the two duchy.

"Your ladyship, the duke asked for your audience to join him in the breakfast." Your butler from the other side of your room, outside the door, knocked and speaks after. You frown upon hearing it, looking at the closed door, what does he want?

You feel strange about your husband nowadays. He had been asking for your presence this past few days. Never once he called for you after your wedding with him.

You clicked your tongue and turn to look at your lover. You notice Everett's face was frowning too. "Tell the duke that I will be there in a moment." You announced to the butler outside the room expecting the old man to gear you through it. You look back at the man leaning his weight on you. You tap the curly haired lover to let you go from his hold yet he didn't budge after moving yourself to sit up instead you heard yourself going 'oomfh!' and finding your lips were on his again. You groaned while he moaned weakly. He pushed you down on the bed, his lips never leaving yours until you were out of breath. A string of saliva trailed between your mouths. Everett was smiling before diving his lips into your skin, to one of your chest, fondling the other. You feel a little ticklish and panting at his stimulation. "Eve—! Wait! Ah..." Your voices went unheard, The male's mewling, sucking on to your flesh like thirsty man who hadn't had a drink.

Your hand went to tug his hair as you moaned out his name. "Shi—Eve... Oh! S-stop... Ah.."

His other hand goes to put one of legs above his back and parted the other leg, accessing himself between you even more."m-mistress!"

You groaned when you felt him grind between you. He looked at you with a pleading eyes, he look like he will cry again, the tears filling up yo the side from his eyes. "M-mistress." He whined his mouth was already in another mound. You feel his hardness between. "p-please? I'll be good! Please... huff..I'll make y-you feel good!"

Your eyes are hazy from the pleasure. "You want.. hah... it?" His eyes getting filled again with tears. You tug him by the hair not enough to hurt him. You landed your lips on his ears. Panting and breathless when you felt his hands is still fondling your body. "You got..ngh... to earn it, pretty boy." You murmurs made him whimpered. "You have to be my good boy... Are you my good boy?"

He nod, a tear fell down to his cheeks, he leaned down to your lips, murmuring, i-am-your-good-boys, thank-yous and I-love-yous.

The room filled with noises that could make anyone flustered and uncomfortable. You didn't realize from your high you are feeling that the butler is coughing uncomfortably behind the door excusing himself as he will inform the duke what you told him earlier.

You went down the stairs with a difficulty, aching between your thighs. You can't find any dress to cover the one hickey on your neck, Everett apologize and helped you cover it with a foundation but it failed horribly from covering seeing that the foundation wasn't blend well and you do not want your maids do it for you. Not when you found out that almost all of them had already been with your husband. You were planning to replace them sooner.

You stopped at the closed door leading to the dinning room. The butler from earlier straightened his posture, clearing his throat after he saw you. He announced your presence behind the door opening the door for you."My lord, your ladyship is here."

You walked in after thanking one of the male servant for pushing the seat for you once you sit across the lord of the household, your husband, the Duke.

The breakfast before you was served cold. If you have arrived earlier you could have eaten warm. You glance at your husband, surprised that his plate has not been finished and it looked like he didn't touched it. You noticed his eyes is trained on to you since you came in, yet his eyes isn't on you but to your neck and the way you walk earlier.

His grey eyes seemed to be narrowing, he scoffed. "You're late."

You glance away, picking one of the utensil, stabbing the meat, landing it to your mouth chewing it. You gulped it down before taking another bite. The marinated pork seems to be delicious even if the breakfast a little no warm.

"It seems you are enjoying with your toy a little too much." He added, there was anger rising beneath his voice.

Oh, the egg is a little bland but it is still edible nonetheless.

"There are more new reports about your speculated infidelity to the public. Do you know that?"

You looked at him after eating the last piece of the sunny side egg, smiling: finally acknowledging his presence."Yeah, what about it? It's not like it will ruin our marriage. After all, you had a numerous of headlines about your 'rumored' infidelity too. Did our contractwas nulled after that? It didn't right?"

"(Y/n)."

"Yes, husband?"

His eyes widened a little before going back on giving you death gaze. "Kick that slave away. I don't like him." He demanded. Though he wasn't shouting. You frowned, how dare he?

"Why would I? It's my decision whether I choose to throw him out or not."

"I do not want him near my property." He complained, gritting his teeth at the last word.

"This is my property as well!" You sternly answered back. Not leaving another room for an argument.

There was silence between the room.

"... I... don't want him near you." You heard him. You blinked at the sudden word that blurted in his mouth.

You scoff standing up, "I think I should finish my meal somewhere..." You starts walking back to where you enter the room.

"(Y/n)." Theodore called you. You didn't observe the way his eyes longed for you. You were focus on the anger within you. "Are we forgetting something, Theodore?" You questioned.

He pondered, those orb you used to love held a confusion.

"Meddling into your partner's private life will annul this marriage... Wasn't that written in our contract?" You bitterly told him. "Sounds familiar right? Do not dare demand me to throw away Everett." You added.

Finally waiting for this moment for this to happen. Guess he will get to taste his own medicine.

"... As long as we do our part in this household we will act as husband and wife. Is not that what you told me?"

"..."

"Now then, I will excuse myself. I have no longer desire to finish my breakfast here." With that, you leave him there.

When you reach the door, opening it, you were surprise to see Everett waiting outside. "What are you doing here?" You asked him. Your frowned face was replaced with a confusion look before giving him a small smile. The man infront of you return your smile with a small grin, placing one of his arm on your waist."W-well, I feel bored and alone in my own room. So I found myself waiting here w-with the butler. Besides I saw you walking wobbly earlier and I-I am concerned that you might have even more difficulty walking... So f-forgive me for not staying put." The look concern on his face adding the pout from his lips made him look cute.

"What are you a puppy?"You poke his nose giggling as you walk away with him, your eyes went back to talk to the butler. Telling him you want to continue your breakfast at your garden, asking him to make it for a two people. The butler bowing to your order before going to the kitchen area to order the maid.

Your husband on the other hand, loath with rage and jealousy mixing under his eyes. His eyes narrowed especially when the slave you brought in leaned on top of your head kissing at the crown part of your head, leaning to your ear to whisper something akin to sweet talks. The arm around your waist went to rub your back.

If only you glance again on Everett's face. You would have caught him giving your husband a smug smirk.

[azrielbrainrot]

Mind Over Matter

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Description: Eris sees you at your lowest and you get a glimpse behind the mask.

Warnings: Angst, Domestic Violence, Injury

Word Count: 3550

Notes: In case it's confusing this is set before Fire on Fire. Hope you enjoy!

Fire on Fire Masterlist

The forest looked beautiful today. The red and orange leaves cast shadows over the whole clearing, and from the tree branch you were sitting at, you could see the birds flying and even some bunnies hopping around the bushes. It had been raining all week but it finally let up this morning, the sun was now shining high in the sky making it a perfect day to sit and read outside.

Even if the season never changes, you can tell apart the “beginning” and “end” of autumn. The leaves are just starting to fall, meaning this would be the beginning of the season. In a few months when the leaves are mostly on the ground, it will be the “end” and then the cycle will repeat itself. You always preferred this time when the sun is still shining and the forest is alive.

It might be summertime in the solar courts from your calculations, not that you've ever stepped foot out of this one, or even out of the city. As much as you love the forests tinged in orange, you can't help but wonder what it would be like if they gave way to different sights every few months.

Perhaps it would make autumn more enjoyable if it wasn't constantly upon you. You think you wouldn't hate the spring or summer, when the sun is warmer and there isn't as much rain, when different flowers bloom making the forests turn into different shades of green and brown and so many other colors.

You haven't been this deep into the woods in a long time, your mother and father had both finally left the house for long enough at the same time after what felt like forever. With the rain, your mother hadn't been invited to any tea parties and your father always seemed to be working in his office nowadays, never even leaving to attend any meetings. Seems the High Lord had given him some important job.

You'd feel bad for whoever had the misfortune of their company today but these are the few moments of peace you can steal for yourself, and you've been praying to The Mother that something came up so your father was called to the Forest House or even further. If it was something scandalous enough it would take your mother to her friend's houses to discuss it among themselves too.

You get so lost in your thoughts and the book you're reading, in the calmness and silence the forest brings you that it's only when you look up at the sky and see it starting to turn the same orange tone as the trees that you realize the sun is almost setting, you were late. You weren't sure how long your parents would be gone for, hopefully they weren't coming before dinner or they would already be looking for you.

Gathering your skirt, you hop down from the thick branch you've been sitting on, shoving your book into the old bag you once stole from one of the many closets in your house. It took you a few tries, and reading a couple of books, but you had managed to charm it to hold a lot more than its size would lead you to believe. You've been using it to keep books, dried flowers you've turned into bookmarks, random trinkets you've found over the years and even a couple of pants. Anything your parents wouldn't approve of you having really, things you actually called your own. Picking it up, you winnow to its hiding place - an old hollowed tree close to the edge of the woods behind your house - and quickly cover it so no one comes across it.

The maids knew you weren't inside, thinking you were in the gazebo watching the flowers, or feeling sorry for yourself, whatever they told themselves you did all day, so winnowing straight to your room wasn't an option. There was also the risk of any of them lingering around and seeing you. The garden had to do then, the servants had probably all left the grounds by then, retiring to their own homes.

You winnow deep into the garden so you're surrounded by bushes, close to the crimson roses that overlooked the side entrance to the estate. You weren't usually allowed on this side of the garden, it was too close to the servants' gate, meaning any of the “lowly” males could see you and you wouldn't know how to defend yourself from their advances. Sometimes you think your father is convinced you need instructions for breathing too.

Waving a hand over yourself to clean off any obvious dirt for the moment, you almost sprint closer to the gazebo, the place the maids would come looking for you when it was time to get ready for dinner.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you turn the corner to find your father walking the grounds. His face turns into stone as soon as he lays eyes on you, making you drop your skirt immediately, smoothing it with your hands out of habit, always trying to appear as polished as you can in front of him.

By his side stood your fiancé, looking as elegant as ever in a black three piece suit, topped off with a muted red tie to match the soles of his shoes. You've never seen his hair this long, it was combed back and tied in a small knot. Your gaze moves back to your father's disappointed face when his eyes meet yours, always so intense and calculating, suffocating even.

It had been years since you'd last been caught outside by your father and, to make matters worse, Eris was here too. At least he only saw you in the garden, even if further in than you're normally allowed. You don't even want to think what would happen if he'd seen you winnow from the woods.

“What are you doing outside at nightfall?” Your father was clearly displeased with you, not only for going against his wishes but also for doing it in front of such an important person.

“I simply got distracted looking at the flowers,” you try to sound as demure as possible, thinking maybe you could fix this by playing dumb since your father probably didn't want to make a scene in front of Eris, “They're blooming so beautifully.”

“You must have been really distracted,” he says as he turns his head menacingly, “since you know you're not allowed to wander around unattended.”

His tone almost makes you flinch, your face dropping. It had been foolish of you to think you could talk yourself out of the situation. Eris' presence wouldn't make your father less volatile, it only made things worse. He wanted to show the other male he was capable of handling his family, not wanting to appear weak in front of the heir.

You hadn't stopped to think that this could also make you less viable for marriage. His daughter being personally chosen by the High Lord as his eldest son's fiancé was your father's greatest accomplishment, and he knew better than you that Beron's mind was easily changed, he wouldn't want Eris to think you might not be the best option after all.

In this moment you ponder tarnishing your reputation as much as you could to get out of this marriage. If only it wouldn't cost you your life with it. Your father always hated the fact that you were born female. A male would bring the family name glory but a female could only hope to wed into a noble family. If you were to lose the High Lord's favor your father would likely lock you away from the world or even dispose of you altogether.

Your father lets out what you think he means as a disapproving sigh, but you can hear the excitement behind it, can see it on his face. He's grown to enjoy the moments when he can put you or your mother in your place, it makes him feel important. He approaches you, moving away from a slightly confused looking Eris.

You knew what was coming as soon as you saw your father pull his hand back, you've been here before many times after all. You close your eyes, feeling the heat approach your face, trying not to let your instincts take over and try to avoid it, that only makes it worse. The force of the slap makes your head turn to the side, your body almost following, but the worst part is the flames, you have to bite your lip not to let out any sound as you feel the burn eating at your skin. You faintly smell burning and try not to think about it, knowing it's the smell of your own flesh.

He holds your chin with a still too warm hand, even if already rid of the flames, and looks into your eyes closely, wanting to revel in your pain. “I've taught you better than this.” He adds another light slap to your face for good measure before letting you go completely. It almost hurts more than the first one, the skin was so tender even just moving your face hurt.

Taking a weak breath in, you try to calm your mind, ignore the pain and rage warring inside you. Clutching tightly onto your dress to keep your hands occupied, in case your mind slips and you burn his face in rage the same way he keeps doing to yours. You feel the flames wanting to rise up to your skin but firmly snuff them out, making sure they stay safely hidden deep inside you until it's the right time.

The pain has gotten easier to bear over the years, now you close your eyes not from fear but to calm yourself. You don't have the strength to go against him yet or a plan for a safe escape, you refuse to lose your life so easily after enduring this for so long. One day you will make him pay for everything he has put you through but first you need a plan and you need to be stronger.

This time it was different though, Eris was watching, you could feel his gaze burning into your skin deeper than your father's fiery palm ever could. There had been witnesses to his cruelty before, even outside your family and servants, you had seen pity, satisfaction and even trained blankness in their faces, had learned to ignore them and not ask for help under any circumstance - it took you too long to realize that the ones showing pity know your pain or are as powerless as you.

But, for some reason, knowing Eris, your future husband, the heir to the throne, is watching makes you want to cry for the first time since you were a child. You bite your lip and clench your fists as hard as you can, opening your eyes only enough to look to the ground, hoping your face isn't giving away too much or the burn was at least enough to hide it.

Suddenly interested in studying the cobbled stones you've walked on for decades, you notice your earring fell off, the ruby glinting in one of the little nooks in between stones, suffocated with no place to escape to just like you felt. You briefly wondered if it had simply gotten loose with the force or if it was ripped off your earlobe, but the pain on the side of your face was too intense to be able to pinpoint a specific area. A ripped earlobe was the least of your concerns anyway.

“What do you think you're doing?” All your thoughts evaporate when you hear his voice. He sounds uncharacteristically angry, you've never seen him lose the teasing lilt to his words or crafted nonchalant tone. You can't help but look up at him with wide eyes, not even remembering the shame you had felt before.

“Not to worry. Her face will be healed by tomorrow morning,” your father barely hesitates, assuming the anger wasn't directed at him hitting you, “I wouldn't give you damaged goods, my lord.”

Sometimes you wonder how your father had lived for so long, how he managed to become important enough that he not only worked for Beron but the High Lord would also want his heir to marry you, when he could be this dense. It was clear Eris wasn't worried about your face, his anger was almost palpable.

You know he wears a mask like no one else, you've seen it in action, but, if your father hadn't been so self-absorbed, if it was Beron standing in front of him, this would end very differently. Because the mask had fallen at the same time your stupid earring did. What was staring at you was Eris' true face. Your father was too thick to notice but you could gamble your life on it.

It showed his unrestrained fury and power rumbling just beneath his skin, you're not sure how your father didn't notice the way the temperature rose around them, the air suddenly resembling the summer you had just been longing for. His gaze burned hotter than lava and the planes of his face carved out the perfect personification of fury. His face was the perfect picture of the new High Lord of the Autumn Court. It was all fire, beautifully and all consuming.

He was making a bigger effort of not hurting your father than you were. When your eyes met you could almost see him forcefully pushing his feelings away, stuffing himself down with them, burying them deep inside him to keep the plot he's been writing for centuries intact. Still, his gaze lingered on your marred cheek too long, you think you even see his fingers spasm, as if wanting to reach out, if it was to console you or to snap your father's neck you couldn't be sure but the sentiment behind it was the same.

You almost gasp as the realization comes to you. The look on his face isn't all anger but what's underlining it isn't pity, it's the face of someone who understands. He's been in your same place. It shouldn't be a surprise to you, Beron's cruelty will far outlive his name, but it's hard to imagine Eris, inarguably the second most powerful fae in this court, in your place.

Your stomach twists at the implications. If even he can't fight Beron, what hope do you have of escaping your father? Especially now that he's aligned himself with the High Lord? It's in this moment that you know Eris' warnings were correct, there's no use running, you wouldn't make it but a couple steps.

“She needs a healer to fix her face,” you can almost see him choosing his words, playing into your father's narrative enough while trying to help you as much as he can. You're starting to think you have Eris figured out. Is this how he has survived this long? “See that it gets done quickly.”

He leaves without another word, turning away from you father and letting his eyes linger on your burnt flesh one more time before winnowing out of your estate. You don't look away from where he'd just been even when your father grabs your arm and pulls you along on his way inside the house, cursing you with every step. You wouldn't be able to leave your room and escape into the forest for a while.

Later that night, when you're returning to your room, after a healer treated your wounds as usual, and made sure Eris' goods wouldn't be permanently damaged as your father had so lovingly put it, you find a vaguely familiar, faint scent lingering in the air, it makes your heart stop.

Thankfully, the maids didn't accompany you to your room, they didn't like treating you cruelly but helping you could get them in trouble with your father so they'd rather just watch in silence, or, even better, turn their face whenever it was possible.

If they had followed you, they would have noticed the scent, would run and tell your father. You're not sure if they'd recognize it as his, he doesn't visit your house often after all, but the spicy scent was unmistakably male. It's better not to think of the amount of trouble you would be in if they smelled it.

You walk to the window first, opening it as wide as you can so the chilly night air fills the room instead, making sure there would be no residuals in the morning when they came to wake you. Looking up at the full moon in the cloudy sky, feeling the wind turn to ice against the side of your face still covered in a thick cooling salve and wrapped in bandages, you hesitate one more time before moving to the foreign items sitting at your vanity table, undoubtedly left behind by your dear fiancé.

Eris left you a tiny bottle with some strange bluish liquid inside accompanied by a small red velvet box tied off with a golden ribbon. You know he won't poison you, the bargain won't allow it, but you weren't sure what else he could do if he let his imagination run wild. You decide reading the note set on top of the box might give you an idea.

He has no right to treat you like this. I'm sorry I can't do more to help you for now but I promise there will come a day when he won't be able to hurt you anymore.

The note wasn't signed but you knew it was his. Even after your agreement, you didn't think he would try to make you feel better, even going as far as risking getting caught while dropping this off, since this fragile alliance of yours had been neither of your first choices.

You pick up the bottle and uncork it, immediately recognizing the calming scent of a sleeping draught. It would help with your nightmares. This is a generous amount too, it can last you a while. You set it back down and untie the ribbon, opening the box to find some chocolate and sugar cookies.

A sleeping draught and cookies. Never in your life had you received anything like this. You can't even admit it to yourself but this is by far the most thoughtful gift you've ever gotten from anyone.

He had to have an idea of how awful your father was to you, you told him as much when you made the bargain, but he might not have realized he went as far as physically hurting you. Eris knows the pain of an abusive father, of being haunted by their cruelty even in your dreams. So, he gave you the draught to help you even a little and the cookies to console you, something sweet to fend off the pain.

Just when you were starting to feel thankful for Eris, thinking you might have been too harsh on him before, you notice something else written on the other side of the note. Turning it around and reading it as well.

I wasn't aware you could winnow so well. Just how much are you hiding from your family, doll?

Your entire body tenses at the words, turning the paper into flames lest anyone reads it. He knows. You've managed to hide this ability from everyone for decades, but now Eris, of all people, knows. You're not sure how he noticed when your father didn't. He could have arrived before him, could have wandered around the grounds without anyone knowing. Is it possible that he knew where you went? No, he couldn't have come from the forest in time to talk to your father and see you.

You hold your hand up to rub over your chest, simultaneously trying to calm your racing heart and feeling the mark of the bargain woven into your soul, trying to reassure yourself. He's your ally. He won't tell anyone, the bargain won't allow it. But what could he do with this information? You had the upper hand when you made the bargain but it feels like he just stepped ahead.

After a few moments of breathing in the cold air still seeping into the room and settling your mind, you sit down on the chair by the vanity unceremoniously, letting your head drop into your hands for a moment. A heavy sigh escapes you as you open the cookie box again. What kind of person sends you gifts and includes a mildly threatening message with them. Must he always push your buttons like this?

You take a bite out of a chocolate cookie and let the delicious taste melt in your mouth, eyeing the small bottle. It seems you'll need to use it tonight, you definitely need a good dreamless sleep after the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through the whole day.

What you fail to notice is that, between the chocolate and sugar cookies you keep munching on and the annoyance now targeted towards Eris, your face barely even hurts anymore and you weren't left thinking of the deep rooted ache in your soul after your father hurt you yet another time.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I wanted to request something with Prince Steve and his soulmate. I feel like we’ve started to see them warm up to each other but maybe we could see reader start to meet Steve’s friends and see that she’s got more people standing behind her? Like maybe Robin and Eddie teasing Steve about something embarrassing in front of her or I know she hasn’t shown up yet but I could totally see Nancy as like a lady in waiting/tutor to teach her all about proper manners but in the process she spills all these stories about Steve growing up?

thank you for requesting ♡ prince steve au fem, 1k

A knock at the door, an impatient huff. "Are you ready yet?" 

"Come in, Steve." 

He wedges into your rooms, a basket in his hands. "Why are you on the floor?" 

"Can't tie my stupid shoes," you complain, dropping your hands down, knee pulled up, too warm for all the fuss. 

Steve nearly drops the basket, he's that enthusiastic to help you out. He kneels by your feet and takes the laces of your shoes into his hands, pulling them tight, his eyebrows pinched tighter. "That okay?" he asks, pausing his loop. 

"Yeah. Thank you." 

"They didn't teach you how to tie your shoes back home? We need outreach immediately." 

You laugh and lay back on the plush rug behind you. "It's the weird eyelets. You royals do everything weird. Like picnicking." 

"So many points. These aren't eyelets, they're lace hooks. You're pretty much as royal as I am, or you will be in a matter of days. And," —he finishes tying your boot, pulling the other toward him with a small laugh— "Robin wanted a picnic. She's not royal. None of your points make any sense." 

"You'll be a wretched husband." 

Steve takes your hands and pulls you up into a sitting position. He doesn't let them go, transferring both into one so he has a hand free to straighten up your cardigan. "And you'll be a cherished wife." 

Steve pulls you onto your feet. Together, you walk through the selenite halls of the palace to the prince's private gardens, where a gazebo the colour of the sky stands shading refreshments from the eager sun. Helping themselves to the hors d'oeuvres are a tall Eddie and a shorter partner in crime, Robin. Nancy lays out in the grass next to who you assume to be her boyfriend, a handsome guy with two books in his hands, still closed. He squints in the sun, waving as you and Steve approach. 

"Hey!" he greets. "You're late."

"Don't get up," Steve jokes, waving back at him and Nancy, who's barely lifted her head. "Not like I'm anyone important." 

"Very, very hard to find you important when you're wearing shorts," Eddie says. 

Steve shrugs. "She likes them." 

You realise belatedly and with horror that you're she. How does he know you like his nice shorts? Either way, his indifference so long as you like them makes you flush, leaving his side in search of a cold drink to drown yourself in.

"Did you bring the bat?" Steve asks Jonathan behind you. 

"Hey, babe," Eddie says, offering you a glass cup set with pressed flowers in the sides, "you okay?" 

"Is that lemonade?" you ask, pointing at one of the small water dispensers. Their glass shells shine with condensation, more ice cubes than liquid inside. It's a cloudy white with blood orange slices cut and garnishing the top, their juice seeping downward slowly. 

"Sure is. Prince Stevie's favourite, as always. Don't know where the sudden love for oranges came from, do you?" 

You've had a love for them since you got here and tried them for the first time. Oranges are expensive, and so the palace kitchen has them in abundance. Steve clearly noticed. "Wouldn't you know?" you ask. "Don't you choose his meals?" 

"As if. I'm a glorified cleaning boy," Eddie says. He scoops a bagel covered in cream cheese and fresh cut salmon from a silver tray and takes a big bite. "Just stick around for the food." 

"They won't let him back into the engineers workshop on account of his bad manners, he'll be a dishwasher forever," Robin says grandly, rounding the table to stand on your other side. 

"Says you, lady's maid." 

Robin was supposed to be a lady's maid. Sick gig, good pay, she had all the grades and none of the decorum, but Steve wouldn't let them get rid of her, and after an intense training program that taught her to wield a titanium blade longer than her arm as an extension of it, she was instated as his personal guard instead. They're all job hoppers —Nancy started as a lady's maid but now apprentices as a royal tutor, and her boyfriend worked for the palace's news room but now works under the sous chef. 

You did anything you could to stay alive, and now your full time job is princess, so. You're not judging. 

"What's Nancy's boyfriends name?" you whisper. "Jon?" 

"Jonathan. I don't think anybody calls him Jon," Robin whispers back. 

"She's lying. His name is Gordon." Eddie glares at Robin. "She's trying to trip you up." 

A smack erupts through the air, chased by Steve's pleased whoop. "Yes! Baby, did you see that?" 

"I'm not trying to trip you up," Robin says, "don't listen." 

"She totally is." 

"Baby?" Steve calls, yards away in the bluegrass, a bat held at his side. "Guys, stop harassing her. Jesus." 

"We're not harassing her, Stevie, slow your roll. This is a common social phenomenon called teasing, maybe you've heard of it? You do it with friends," Eddie says, nudging your arm. 

Friends, you think. Steve's looking at you, waiting for confirmation that you're alright. "I didn't see it, Steve. Do it again!" 

Steve immediately jogs backwards, goading Jonathan into pitching another ball. He has a good arm, the ball soaring just right for Steve to curl back and send it wide across the green grass of the garden. It hits a long banner across the way, smack dab on its painted target as he'd aimed for, falling practically on top of the first. 

It's an impressive arc. You clap your hands together and cheer, though the rules of this game escape you. You think it's supposed to be darts without sharp points, but you're more concerned with the lines of Steve's bicep as he rests the bat on his shoulder, his triumphant sun-kissed smile.

"Did you see that one, baby?" Robin asks. 

"He's so impressive, isn't he?" Eddie adds, grinning. 

Steve throws them the bird, his cheeks pink. 

"That's an example of what not to do in a formal setting," Nancy says, her skirt moving like water as she puts her face in her hand, her elbow on her knee. 

"You're getting good at this tutoring stuff," Jonathan says. 

Steve meanders your way to beg a consolation hug (he puts his arm across your shoulder, muttering about mean friends and their unjust jokes). "They're the worst," he mutters, his hair brushing your ear, goosebumps erupting down your arms. 

"I think they're nice," you say. 

He hums in your ear. "You would. Wretched wife." 

[evielmostdefinitely]

i would love if we got to see what the proposal in the garden was like!!!!! <3

bed of roses |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, coriolanus' proposal to you.

contains: kinda dark/posessive coriolanus. capitol!reader. duke!reader who is a rothschild type. slight oc?? no descriptor but mentions oc names. fluff. nervous coryo.

A simple luncheon. 

That’s what you were told. A Sunday tea with your family and Coriolanus’, just like they did in the Old World. Your Grandmatron had insisted on it, and in classic Duke style, what she said went. The drab chic of Capitol fashion was forgone for the afternoon, opted in for bright frills and patterns that went out of style long before you were born. A classic, still, for Sunday luncheons in spring. Your mother had your dress custom made, a blush pink that stood bright and radiant amongst the shades of soft cyan and muted marigold. 

Coriolanus had arrived in a linen suit, neatly pressed with amber buttons that stood out beautifully against the white suit. You had no doubt Tigris had made it, the telling touch of the cerulean pocket square that mirrored his eyes. 

He seemed tense, when he kissed your cheek in greeting. Chaste and respectable, but his hands felt clammy when they took yours. 

Unbeknownst to you, Coriolanus was feeling the weight of the world sitting at the table. His family’s legacy, his own future crushing on his shoulders. The small ring in his pocket felt like an anchor. Coryo wondered if this is what the tributes felt like, before their name was called, standing at the Reaping, knowing that at any moment their life could change for the better or for the worse. Their fate in someone else’s hands as his was now. 

“Are you alright?” You whispered, leaning into him gently at the table, your hand brushing his thigh under the table. Coryo jumped with surprise, further drawing your suspicions. 

“Yes,” Coryo’s voice was tight, heart lurching in his chest. He turned to you, offering a tight lipped, half smile that was a poor attempt at convincing you. “I’m alright. Just ate a big breakfast.” 

You frowned, but brushed it off when he took your hand in his, squeezing it affectionately under the table. Your body burned, electric with excitement at the intimacy of the action. 

Coriolanus couldn’t seem to swallow down the raging anxieties he felt blooming inside his chest. The nagging fear that you might reject him. 

Of course, he’d asked your father’s permission, elated when Atticus Duke granted it to him. The typhoon had even smiled, given him a half curled lip and a nod. “If you take care of my girl, I’ll take care of you, Snow.” 

Now, his fate lay at your feet. 

The rational side of his mind told him that you loved him. Of course, you loved him. You’d told him that endlessly. In the morning before he’d leave for the lab, or late at night between silk sheets. 

As each second passed, Coriolanus grew more and more anxious. He caught your mother’s eyes, her knowing grin making his blood run cold. She assured him she’d have the garden prepared for this momentous occasion, hiring the whimsical Trinket’s to florist the garden. Bright flowers lining the walkway, lotus floating in the small pond, an archway of pink roses over the gazebo. 

“Mother must be planning a party.” You giggled, your lace gloved hand in Coryo’s, strolling with him through the botanicals. 

Coriolanus stiffened beside you. “Why would you say that, my love?” He tried to sound casual, but still, that demanding cut in his tone lingered still. 

You looked at him, the sun illuminating his features, his hair as bright and light as the rays that blinded your vision. “The flowers.” You motioned towards the freshly planted lilies next to you. ��She only ever goes this dramatic when they’re having a celebration of sorts.” 

Coriolanus felt his stomach turn, hoping you couldn’t feel the way his heart skipped. “Perhaps they’re hosting the Reaping party this year?” 

“Mm, perhaps.” Coriolanus nodded, taking a calming breath to soothe his nerves. Pull yourself together, Snow. You’ve worked too hard to piss it away now. Snow lands on top. She is your top. Don’t ruin it now. 

“Would you like to join me?” Coriolanus stepped onto the gazebos stair that bore a fresh coat of paint. His hand extended to your own, a soft smile tugging at his lips when you took his hand. 

“Hm,” Your head titled, looking at the array of roses above the entrance. “That’s odd.” 

Coriolanus’ heart dropped. “What is?” His lungs squeezed, stealing every last breath from him. 

Your eyes met his, brows furrowed with curiosity. “She used roses?” You tilted your head to the side gently. Coryo blinked at you. “Mother never uses roses outside. Says it’s gauche.” You shrugged. 

Coriolanus burned. He’d suggested it when she’d asked. Now, he wondered if it would all be ruined. One tiny slip up, and he’d blown it all. 

“It’s beautiful today.” The small sigh of content you gave stole him from his own worrisome thoughts. Your head tilted back, holding your small head piece so you could bask in the warmth of the sun- rare in the Capitol. 

“It is.” Coryo agreed, stepping beside you. He wondered if your father had somehow managed to pay for the sun to shine. He certainly could afford to. “Nearly as beautiful as you.” He whispered, breath hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering. 

“Coryo,” You blushed, cheeks burning with adorning heat. 

“I mean it.” Coriolanus nodded, a hand sliding over your waist at a respectable placement, yet still affectionate. He knew your family was watching after all. “You always look so radiant. Always manage to steal my breath right from my lungs with your beauty. You have since the first time I laid eyes on you in Twelve.” 

Your chin ducked, hoping to hide the fluster of your cheeks. “You’re being playful, Coryo.” You muttered, eyes cutting up to meet him, hidden by the netting of your fascinator in your hair. 

“I am not.” Coryo shook his head, hand sliding over his pocket, feeling for the ring there. It was now or never, time to face his destiny. “I am entirely serious, my love. You have always managed to captivate me with your beauty, your humor, your kindness.” His hand took yours, pulling you closer to him. 

Your eyes shone when they met him, filled with a lovestruck, glossy gaze. It encouraged him, sending that final surge of confidence to deliver the speech he’d practiced endlessly for weeks now. His tongue felt numb in his own mouth when he said your name, tongue rolling over each syllable as if he wanted to savor each one. 

“There has been no other like you in my life before, and I hope there never will be.” Coriolanus' hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamt of, gone far beyond my own imaginations with your perfection.” 

“Coryo,” You choked on your tears, eyes shining with emotion. 

 “Please,” Coryo stepped away, though his hand never left your own. “I could speak forever about how perfect you are to me, and there still would not be enough time to capture how much I adore you.” Coryo paused, leaning forwards to look deeply into your eyes. “How much I love you.” 

Your heart skipped, racing like the wings of a hummingbird when he dropped to one knee. An outdated tradition, sure, but one he knew you cherished. One he knew your family would approve as well. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Coriolanus said, hand sliding into his jacket pocket to retrieve the ring, hoping you didn’t see how it shook. “I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to live a life without you. I want you beside me through it all. When I command this entire country, I want you to be there with me.” 

Your tongue swelled, head swimming when you caught a glimpse of the dazzling sapphire ring. Coriolanus’ mother’s ring, you knew that much. He’d mentioned it only a few times in passing. You knew what it meant to him, what she meant to him. 

“I don’t want to be without you ever again.” Coriolanus continued, the ring pinched between his fingers. “I only want you, my petal. So will you do me the greatest honor of my life?” His eyes rounded so sweetly when he asked, a new side of Coryo you’d never experienced. “Will you marry me?” 

Your chest burned, suffocated with tears and emotions that wanted to explode out of you. Your silence made Coryo’s own heart drop, fear filled with damning reality. 

“Yes,” Your voice cut through your thick tears before he could spiral completely. It felt nearly fake, like he’d imagined it. 

Then, you nodded. Head bobbing, uncaring at how the small hair piece shook, sliding through your locks. Coriolanus was sure he was in shock, ears ringing with uncertainty. “Yes?” He whispered. 

Your nod made his shoulders drop with relief, heart beat thundering through his body with aftershock. “Yes,” You croaked, sniffling wetly. “Yes, Coryo. Yes, I-I will marry you.” 

You surprised him next. Overwhelmed with emotion, your hands cupped his face, pulling him in for a sweet, nearly sloppy kiss. Lovesoaked with a powerful emotion that overcame you. Coriolanus faltered, eyes cutting towards the house, burning with embarrassment. It was so improper, and he knew your family was watching him- judging him. 

Coriolanus stood, breaking the kiss, not missing the look of disappointment that flashed for only a moment over your features, before he took your hand. He took his time pulling each finger off the lacy gloves, swallowing a smile at how you shivered with excitement before he slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, almost like his mother was giving her own nod of approval to you. 

His lips brushed your knuckles, before you pulled him back into you, a sweet kiss, more respectable this time- appropriate, so he allowed it. Coryo’s chest boasted when he walked back into your family's home, smug at how you showed off your ring proudly, beaming with pure joy at the news. The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about wedding details, dates and plans, while Coriolanus planned his own. 

Not your wedding- no, he’d leave that to you, but his own future plans. How he’d run Panem, when your father would appoint him, his first actions as President. His own future, out of your hands, and back in his clutches now. 

[ohyoru]

✿ his fair lady ft wriothesley

author's note; idk what i'm writing, but i know i'm losing braincells over this man so this has to be done sob

one cannot not know of the lord of the fortress of meropide. just the mere mention of his title makes people break in a cold sweat, his presence alone gets the devils running. if monsieur neuvillette is fontaine's symbol of justice, then he marks the nation's absolute order. thats why when the news about him getting himself an angel of a bride, it was beyond belief, even for him.

when the marriage was first arranged, he didn't know what to do, or think. he remembered coming to officially court you. standing under the shade by the gazebo, he loosened up his tie out of anxiety rather than habit. his attire — one gentleman wouldnt wear for such occasion — paraded his numerous scars, which he isn't necessarily ashamed of but wouldnt blame you if you're spooked by them.

his cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink and his heart was beating so hard against his ribs that even after some deep breathes, he still couldn't calm it down. he'd heard of you — the heart in the people's eyes, the yearned blessing in the theatric courtroom, the magical phenomenon inked in the steambird. the unmistakable difference between the two of you filled him with dread, very much sure he'll be turned down.

then, you arrived amidst the sea of blooming flowers. your smile was as bright and warm as the springtime sun as you bowed so respectfully and regally like the true fair lady you are. in that moment, his mind stopped working and his body moved on its own as if nudged by fate itself. he stood tall, hand caressing yours in his as he kissed your palm softly with perfect precision of movement.

years had passed since that fateful afternoon. his grace's reputation as the fearsome lord still stands, but there's more to his title when he's with you. for you, he's the husband who have trouble perceiving colours yet never fail to get the right shade of your favourite flower, and the one who conveyed to you the story behind every of his scars that you'd kissed each one afterward. but mostly importantly, he's the man who makes sure to make you know that you're the only fair lady of his, and his alone.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

What an intriguing 1964 mid-century modern in Lubbock, Texas. The 4bd, 3ba home has some interesting one-of-a-kind features for only $375K.

Nice large living room with a pitched ceiling, beams, built-in shelving unit, brick wall and fireplace.

I love the tree detail and tile floor.

Open concept living/dining room combo.

The current owner did a jungle mural, but it also looks like a girl hiking in the forest. A little confusing.

An open sun room with a bar is off the area. So convenient for entertaining.

Very large, long kitchen.

The spot lit art over the cabinets conveys to the new owner.

There's also some coordinating art painted on the cabinet doors above the microwave.

The primary bedroom has a wall of storage, but if the shelves get messy and company is coming, simply pull down the coordinating shades that match the wallpaper, and cover it up.

The en-suite has a neon mirror and a large tiled shower.

The toilet is separate and has lots of shelving.

Bedroom #2 is large and has 2 big windows with Plantation shutters.

Bedroom #3 has a wall of built-in shelving and a desk.

The 4th bedroom is a good size, also.

This room with the starry snail shell lights must be a family room.

Bath #2 has a large double sink vanity and original pink tiles.

Stairs down to the finished basement feature an outdoor lantern. Looks like all the picture hangers conveyed, too.

The basement has lots of storage and a room with a washer/dryer hookup. Must be damp down here b/c they left a dehumidifier.

In the back, there's a large deck featuring a tree.

There's no lawn to worry about. Cute little gazebo, too.

Statue w/a small water feature.

Tiny chapel?

And, a fountain on the side of the house.

[tchallasbabymama]

Ménage à Trois Part Deux: Chapter Two

I'm still here (Tisha Campbell voice.)

Y'all... I've been working on this chapter for over a year. I literally JUST finished it and can't even wait for beta readers; I gotta post this now!

Life's lifing, but I haven't forgotten about my stories 💕

As usual, check out my masterlist for more of my work, let me know if you want to be tagged in anything, and make sure you reblog and/or leave a comment if you like it!

Without further ado, here's chapter 2!

Word count: 6,043

CW: smut

Among the many visitors who made their way to Wakanda to experience the kick-off of Queen Zora’s student exchange program was Amanda Livingston, a reporter for the New York Times. She had been assigned the potentially life-changing gig by her editor, and although she wasn’t looking forward to visiting the continent due to all the horrible propaganda she’d heard about it over the years, Amanda eventually came around when she saw the technologically advanced country with her own eyes. Wakanda outdid her wildest expectations, but she wasn’t content with simply enjoying her time in the foreign land. She needed to dig deeper to find dirt on the country that welcomed her into their borders.

When Amanda arrived at the gala, she instantly became uneasy. Looking around at the other, much more stylish guests, she felt underdressed. Their ornate cultural attire, vibrant jewels, and intricate hairstyles made her feel dull and unimpressive for the first time in her privileged life. Her basic navy blue shift dress was a business casual bore against her pale, freckled skin. Despite the thick layer of greasy sunblock clogging her pores, she could already feel her skin turning red after just a few minutes of exposure to the setting sun. Amanda grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest server and downed it to calm her nerves before scanning the courtyard for shade, observing every person and their interactions. Unfortunately for her byline, both the Wakandans and visitors alike seemed to be enjoying themselves. No salacious stories had revealed themselves to Amanda yet, but she perked up upon noticing that a spot had opened up in the gazebo.

The journalist awkwardly squeezed her way into the ornate shelter, sandwiching herself between a prominent Congolese activist and a gaggle of excited Wakandan teens whose endless supply of questions grew louder and more animated as they listened to the visitor’s stories of grassroots organizing in his home country. Amanda listened along with the Wakandans while her eyes wandered around the rest of the gala, admiring the architecture and landscaping of the palace courtyard. It was so different from what she was used to in the States. Beautiful, sprawling, centuries-old fruit trees surrounded the space in lieu of carefully carved topiaries, and a large golden statue of a panther gleamed brightly as the centerpiece of a magnificent fountain. Amanda’s eyes fell to the water pooling beneath the towering feline’s paws, and she noticed unusual petals floating delicately on the surface.

Amanda whipped out her phone to snap a picture of the beautiful sight, but she noticed a familiar face just beyond the curve of the statue’s tail. Sure enough, there stood an old fuck buddy she hadn’t seen since her Ivy League years. In college, Mitchell Van Buren was a well-connected frat boy with a heart that appeared to be of gold, and fifteen years later, he was riding that squeaky-clean reputation all the way to the presidential campaign trail. Amanda had always thought that he favored the Ken doll she had as a young girl. As if he felt her gaze, Mitchell’s piercing blue eyes found hers, and he smiled as he recognized an old fling. 

Amanda found herself standing next to Mitchell in no time flat, and the two of them lost track of time as they caught up on their lives. The friendly chat became more suggestive as time went on. They flirted back and forth until the queen’s speech, where Mitchell allowed his roaming hands to do the talking under Amanda’s dress. By the time Queen Zora returned to her seat, they were already sneaking off into the gardens to escape the crowd.

The politician and the journalist reconnected in a deep, dark corner of the gardens far away from the event. Their reunion was brisk, and as they straightened themselves back out, the sound of footsteps heading in their direction made them fear they had been caught. They stayed ducked behind the bushes as the queen swished her hips into view, followed by a very large man who stared at her with stars in his eyes. The two accidental voyeurs watched as he kissed her hand tenderly, and their eyes bulged in their sockets. Neither could believe what they were seeing. The queen of Wakanda cheating on the king…

The shock of it all made Mitchell freeze on the spot, but Amanda nearly salivated as she pictured the headlines. This was just the story she’d been looking for! Acting quickly and without remembering to turn the sound off her phone, Amanda snapped a picture of the couple. At that moment, the shutter seemed to be the loudest sound she or Mitchell had ever heard. 

The queen and her lover pulled apart, and the mystery man barrelled towards them. Amanda and Mitchell ran in the opposite direction, but Mitchell tripped, nearly busting his chiseled chin on the ground. Amanda ran as fast as she could towards the gala until she rounded the last corner and noticed the Dora Milaje blocking the entrance to the garden. The much taller man shouted after her, and the guards turned around with their spears at the ready. Amanda froze and let go of her phone, but not before pressing send on a message that would surely cause a headache for the royals before the device could even crash to the ground.

“Th-the queen is a cheater! I saw it! We saw it!” Amanda yelled, purposely causing a bigger scene than necessary while squeezing out crocodile tears to gain sympathy points. Unfortunately, it worked, and the crowd turned around to gawk at the spectacle.

--------

Zora woke up to the sound of light snores to her left and warm breaths against her right ear. As usual, two heavy arms were slung across her body, but instead of starting her day filled with the joy of being in her lovers’ arms again, flashbacks of the night before played on a loop behind Zora’s eyes. She absentmindedly watched the ceiling fan rotate slowly and sighed as she cursed herself for slipping up, prompting T’Challa to tighten his grip on her waist.

“Stop thinking about last night,” he grumbled in her ear.

Zora turned to look at him questioningly, and he smirked without opening his eyes. She didn’t even bother asking how he knew what was on her mind, choosing instead to focus on the upward curl of his thick lashes. As if he felt her gaze, those lashes fluttered open, allowing the king’s precious gemstones to sparkle in the early morning sunlight. 

“It was a disaster,” Zora whispered, trying not to wake her other husband from his deep slumber. 

“Try not to focus on the ending.”

“I shouldn’t have gone into the gardens,” Zora whined. “I just-”

T’Challa cut her off with a kiss.

“You blame yourself too easily.” 

He was right, but nonetheless, she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“How are you so chill about this?”

T’Challa brought his hand up to caress her cheek.

“I have watched you live a lie to the rest of the world since the moment you stepped into this role, Babygirl. And I have watched that lie eat away at you every time you have to uphold it. As a man, and a Wakandan one at that, I will never fully understand the pressures of living in a world that dictates you move in such a way. From my point of view, it seems exhausting.”

“It is,” Zora croaked around the lump forming in her throat and turned to look at M’Baku, still splayed out on his stomach and snoring away. “I can’t help but think I’m hurting him. He says he’s fine, but I wouldn’t be if I were in his shoes.”

T’Challa decided it would be better to let M’Baku express his own feelings later, so he held his tongue instead of confirming Zora’s speculation. M’Baku had recently confided in him that he wasn’t as fine with their public arrangement as he let on, but since he didn’t want his feelings to stand in the way of Zora’s success, he was wary of telling her.  

“You should talk to him about it,” the king advised.

“I will, but I’m pretty sure the whole world knows by now,” Zora huffed as last night’s events played in her mind again. She relived everything from the shutter click in the gardens to the crowd’s murmurs at seeing the Dora Milaje with their spears trained on two guests. Nearly every phone was up recording the catastrophe as it unfolded, several of which were streaming live, and they all captured the moment Zora’s carefully crafted image shattered into millions of pieces thanks to colonizers sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

“No, they know what those people think they saw. The world has yet to hear your truth.”

“I don’t think the world’s ready for the truth.”

“Not everyone will be, but imagine what you will be doing for those that are.”

“You always know what to say,” Zora complimented him with a warm smile.

“Is that not why you married me?”

Before Zora could respond, he kissed her deeply, and she moaned into his parted lips. The sound coursed through T’Challa’s veins and woke up the rest of his body until his every cell ached for his wife. He hadn’t touched her body in two weeks, and the time apart was starting to catch up to him the longer he kissed her. With M’Baku being around and a very willing submissive for them both, the king wasn’t in need of release, but he missed the smell of Zora’s skin and the taste of her juices seeping out for him. He longed to feel her contract around him when she climaxed, and the memory of her screaming his name had him prying her legs open and sliding his fingers into her depths.

“Mmmm-”

“Quiet, or your husband will catch us,” he ordered softly in Zora’s ear, turning her on even more. It wasn’t often that they engaged in cheating roleplay, but when they did, it turned Zora into a sopping wet mess. “You don’t want him to know how filthy you are, do you?”

Zora shook her head and trapped her plump bottom lip between her pearly whites in a feeble attempt to quiet her moans. Her big doe eyes dared not look away from T’Challa’s piercing gaze when he found a spot inside her that made her release a noise much too undignified for a woman of her royal ranking. 

“I said be quiet, Zora,” T’Challa sneered, his breath hot against her ear as his teeth dragged along the lobe.

“Uxolo baby, I-I-”

Zora’s desperate whispers tickled T’Challa’s skin, and his ears grew hot the way they always did when she spoke his native tongue to him.

“Thula!” he growled, pulling his fingers out and slapping her sensitive vulva. The small whimper that she managed to squeak out upon impact made him smile. She was trying to be good for him, so he let his wet fingers trail up her pussy lips to the bundle of nerves that poked out like a beacon of pleasure, calling out to be touched and handled with care. 

Zora’s body felt electric everywhere T’Challa touched her skin. Her fingertips longed to feel him, too, so they found their way to the coils of his beard and pressed his face closer to hers. Time seemed to move slower with every stroke of his fingers around her clit and every filthy and loving word he uttered. His words came out in husky whispers at first before transforming into guttural growls the more his erection pressed into her thigh. Zora was careful not to wind her hips too much to keep from waking M’Baku, but the way T’Challa zeroed in on her pleasure zones and overstimulated her body made it near impossible to lay still. 

Kisses to Zora’s collarbone made her heart beat out of her chest. Her head jerked to the left, and she locked eyes with M’Baku as she heaved through T’Challa’s tortures, making the king chuckle darkly.

“Look what you did,” T’Challa teased as he angled his hips so that he could slide into her wetness, his hand placed firmly around her neck. “You woke him up, and now he knows you're my little cumslut. How do you think it makes him feel to see you like this?”

Zora’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as T’Challa bottomed out inside her, but no matter how good it felt, she knew one thing: she better not let go of her legs, or there would be delicious hell to pay. Since most mornings consisted of the throuple making vigorous love to start their day, they often started in this very position when the queen was the center of attention. T’Challa would find a way to slide in either from the back or the side, depending on how Zora was lying. Every time, without fail, he would assign her the task of holding her legs back for him, and every time, without fail, he’d beat the breaks off her pussy so good that she’d lose her grip, making him fuck her harder for insubordination.  

Today, he could tell by the strained look on her face that she was determined to be good. He hadn’t forgotten about her eight infractions over their time apart, but Zora wasn’t in the right headspace for punishments. Naturally, she was stressed and scared about how the previous night could affect her career, but most of all, her guilt over hiding M’Baku from the world, combined with missing them both, had made her soft, and she’d need a thick skin for what T’Challa had planned for her.

So, the king fucked her slow and deep and watched with an amused smirk as she struggled to grip her legs. As if he read both of their minds, M’Baku’s large hand covered Zora’s, and he easily held her thick bronze legs in place the way he knew the king liked. Zora’s eyes met his again, and she pulled him into a kiss, their tongues colliding before their lips ever touched. They got lost in a cycle of licking and sucking and biting at each other until Zora’s hand wandered down to M’Baku’s naked dick, hard as Jabari wood and throbbing with the desperate heat of a man that missed the feeling of his wife’s inner workings. He moaned into her mouth as she worked her hand up and down his thickening shaft, and Zora answered with deep moans of her own that were prompted by T’Challa’s even deeper strokes. His grunts of pleasure in her ear just turned her on even more, and the three of them soon became composers in a beautiful symphony of swirling notes belted into the air while the percussion of their bodies kept rhythm. 

Beep, beep-beep, beep, beep-beep.

Zora went rigid with an influx of anxious energy that filled her body from head to toe, swiftly replacing the waves of pleasure that she had been immersed in before T’Challa’s kimoyo beads began ringing. 

“Ignore it,” T’Challa ordered through gritted teeth. “They will call back.”

“It could be important.”

“It is too early. Leave it be for now,” M’Baku nearly begged as he thrust into Zora’s hand.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Zora’s beads began vibrating from the nightstand, and she released M’Baku, placing her palm on T’Challa’s chest. A growl escaped his lips as he pulled out.

“Zora, it can wait-” T’Challa cut himself off and turned towards the door with a curious look on his face just before someone’s knuckles banged against the vibranium.

“This can’t be good,” Zora murmured, untangling herself from M’Baku, reaching for her kimoyo beads, and sliding them onto her wrist. 

T’Challa begrudgingly agreed with a nod of his head as he grabbed his black silk robe from the back of his chair. The knocks came again, this time sounding even more urgent than the first set, so when the king swung the door open, he was unsurprised to see Kidada, Bahati, and Dembe flanked by Okoye and Ayo. They exchanged the proper greetings and salutes, and upon hearing all the voices of those present, Zora’s heart sank to her stomach.

“Ugh, all hands on deck?” Zora groaned, burying her head into the pillow and covering it with the flimsy white sheet they slept under. M’Baku rubbed her back in comforting circles, but his eyes stayed glued to the doorway.

“We really hate to wake you up like this, but it seems we could not stop the footage of last night’s incident from leaking to the global press,” Bahati explained calmly.

Kidada held out a holopad for the king to scroll through news articles and social media posts. A thick silence filled the air as he read page after page of people’s disdain for Zora and her perceived infidelity.

“How bad is it?” Zora’s voice wavered, her mind already expecting the worst. She had been trying to gauge the degree of disaster from T’Challa’s responses, but his features were frozen in a carefully crafted poker face. He could hear her heart thumping wildly in her chest and smell the panic seeping from her pores.

“It, uh…” T’Challa trailed off as his eyes focused on a headline from a popular gossip column. The writer speculated how quickly the king should divorce his supposedly adulterous wife. “It could be worse.”

---------

Over the years, Zora had exposed M’Baku to her people's art, culture, and history. From the triumphant to the traumatic, he learned more about the Lost Tribe than he ever anticipated. He respected their tenacity and ingenuity in surviving their colonizer’s oppressive regime. Seeing her world through his eyes made Zora appreciate it more, but sometimes his inquiries forced her to interrogate the parts of her society that even she didn’t understand. 

For example, Zora could never properly explain assimilation to M’Baku in a way that made sense to him. Probably because, at her core, she didn’t understand it either. Every answer she gave the man confused him more than the last, and after all this time, he still didn’t get it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around people who chose to side with their oppressors, specifically the Black folks who adopted conservative sensibilities. 

In the wake of the gala incident, M’Baku’s confusion grew tenfold as those same conservative Black folks got wind of what was happening in Wakanda, and their collective reaction was even stronger than the KKK whites over at Fox. His eyes glazed over every time Bahati and Kidada updated the royals on the situation. News briefings and viral videos lambasting Zora’s behavior seemed to be coming out every second, and the global scale of it all made M’Baku feel small. 

Handsy megachurch preachers with a penchant for inflicting the fiery numbness of the male gaze onto the young women in their congregation spouted whole sermons to their flocks about the importance of wives remaining submissive and faithful to their husbands. Longstanding problematic radio personalities lamented the fact that the women they deemed golddiggers didn’t seem to know their place anymore. Most perplexing of them all, podcast niggas laughed at T’Challa and called him weak from behind their shitty microphones set up in their mother’s moldy basement. What was left of Black Twitter was in disarray. The royal Wakandan wedding had broken the internet the year before, and the news of Zora’s philandering sent waves through the app again. In just twenty-four hours, Zora had been called everything but a child of god, and T’Challa’s masculinity was questioned by those who clung to the patriarchal idea that his woman’s behavior determined his manhood. Meanwhile, the whole world speculated on the identity of the mystery man caught canoodling with the queen.

Under normal circumstances, the royals could have easily avoided the ruckus of the outside world when safe inside Wakanda, but the scandal’s timing couldn’t have been worse. For the first time in its long and storied history, Wakanda was hosting hundreds of outsiders from all over the globe. Zora’s unprecedented position within the royal house had truly brought forth a new age of diasporic collaboration, but the second the scandal broke, so did the facade. Of course, her people and most of the visiting children were unbothered. After their second full day, the exchange students had taken to calling Wakanda their ekhaya, their home. It warmed Zora’s heart every time she heard their foreign accents dance around the Xhosa words with varying levels of ease. Even more surprising was the Wakandan children blending their own words and mannerisms so seamlessly with their guests. Seeing their exchange in such a short amount of time was the only thing that fueled Zora as her public life crumbled around her. 

Even though the exchange was for the benefit of the children, and therefore, it was shaping up to be a success, the adults weren’t shy about making their displeasure known. Many of them showed their nasty true colors the moment Zora’s supposed indiscretions went public. Some went as far as returning home and dagging their helpless children with them. Those who remained were either chaperones forced to stay with the few children whose parents hadn’t withdrawn from the program, or just looking for more dirt to take back home with the hopes of collecting a check. Unsurprisingly, the journalists and politicians were especially heinous in their approach, and T’Challa was steadily growing tired of walking the paper-thin line between needing to maintain diplomatic relations and swiftly dropping them all over the border in Niganda. 

In just two days, the program had already lost nine students, and three schools in two separate countries had pulled out of the partnership. In that same amount of time, M’Baku spoke maybe ten words, and Zora weathered four panic attacks. The first of which came shortly after Bahati, Kidada, and Dembe interrupted the royal throuple’s morning lovemaking to break the news of the international scandal. The second two were due to her fear of failure being triggered by the waning participation in her exchange program, but the last one caught her off guard.

It struck while she was visiting her mother. Shortly after Zora’s weddings, Cheryl retired from teaching AP English Literature, packed up her Atlanta home, and moved into the house that T’Challa had given Zora when she accepted the liaison position. She just couldn’t bear being so far apart from her one and only child, and the time change was too much for her to keep track of. Truly, the first time Cheryl visited, she knew she’d be moving soon. For Operation Stepdaddy, if nothing else, which commenced as soon as she set down her suitcase.

Cheryl was backstroking through the Wakandan dating pool. According to the exploits she would dish to Zora and Ramonda about, the quantity was low, but the quality was high. Most of the men in her age range were already partnered, and she wasn’t one for polyamory like her daughter. However, the generous handfuls of men she’d interacted with restored her faith in their genderfolk. 

In short, Cheryl was living her best life.

Between her newfound social life and lending her expertise as an educator to help shape Zora’s exchange program, she felt more fulfilled than ever. Zora had noticed the change in her mother. It was a change she had dreamed of seeing all her life. Cheryl seemed happy. She smiled all the time now, her shoulders didn’t carry tension, and the only thing stressing her out was the heat. She seemed free.

Cheryl was so used to seeing that same look on Zora’s face that she immediately knew something was wrong when she opened her front door to greet her daughter. Her energy was just off.

“You ruin your fancy shoes stepping in rhino shit again?” she quipped with a raised brow.

Zora couldn’t help but crack a small smile as she stepped over the threshold and into Cheryl’s outstretched arms. 

“That was one time, momma.”

“And I still don’t know how you missed that big-ass pile.”

Ayo stifled a laugh as she entered the familiar space and allowed Cheryl to embrace her as well. They all knew that nobody was exempt from her hugs.

Zora was quieter than usual as she made her way through her former home. Cheryl had already made it her own, filling it with plants that Zora would’ve killed within a week. The walls were a deep maroon and covered in locally woven tapestries and baskets, and the entire home smelled like warming spices. The abundance of natural light peeking through the windows kept the place bright despite the darker color palate. It felt like Cheryl’s Atlanta home, but bigger and with a higher budget.

As soon as Zora sat down at the kitchen table, Cheryl handed her a mango juice mimosa–their favorite. The second their glasses clinked, the queen downed her cocktail in one gulp. 

“Oh, it’s that kind of day?” Cheryl asked, sipping her glass once before setting it on the kitchen table between them.

Zora nodded, but before she could open her mouth to explain further, a calendar reminder popped up on her beads that made her head spin. She had forgotten about her doctor’s appointment—the one where she was set to have the birth control removed from her arm. 

The thought of juggling the complete dumpster fire her life had become seemingly overnight with the possibility of bringing life into the world overwhelmed Zora. She could feel her heart thumping in her eardrums, and her jaw tightened as she tried to breathe through the anxiety crashing into her. 

“It’s too much some days.”

The queen’s voice sounded small, so her mother laid a soft hand on her shaking knee. 

“What is, honeybun?”

Zora’s mind raced. Where to begin?

“Now I see why Wakanda stayed isolated for so long,” Zora sighed before walking her mom through the events of the last few days. As she laid down her burdens, heavy iron gears turned in Cheryl’s mind. She couldn’t help but try to figure out a way to fix her one and only child’s problem, but the politics of it all stumped her. 

“I don't even know what to say, baby.”

They sat in a thick silence for several moments until Cheryl broke it by refilling Zora’s glass. This time, the royal sipped it slowly before parting her lips once more with a question that had been weighing her down since her calendar dinged. 

“When did you know you were ready to be a mom?”

Cheryl’s heart nearly beat out of her chest, but she played it cool. She had never been one to push Zora to have kids, but it was one of her deepest wishes to grow old and experience being a grandmother. 

“Not until I gave you your first bath,” Cheryl chuckled. “I was scared to death to hold you– you were so tiny. I just knew I’d break you.”

Zora remembered the many stories she’d heard over the years about Cheryl’s tumultuous pregnancy. How ashamed she was for ending up in that situation, and how alone she felt. That man really put her momma through it…

“Why do you ask?” Cheryl cut her eyes at Zora’s mimosa glass, “I know you ain’t pregnant drinking all that champagne.”

Zora shook her head.

“Not yet. I was thinking about having my implant removed, but now,” the queen shook her head and took another sip of mango mimosa. “My timing couldn’t be worse.”

“There’s no such thing as the perfect time, honeybun.”

“Yeah, but in the middle of a media shitstorm?”

Cheryl chuckled before turning up her drink and finishing the last drop. By the time she placed the glass down on the table, an idea had churned up between her ears. 

“Maybe that’s exactly what you need.”

Zora looked at her like she had two heads, but Cheryl continued, “They’d eat up a royal baby! Plus, you’d have an excuse to step out of the spotlight for a little while, and by the time you come back, they’d be too enamored with my grandbaby to give a damn about your sex life.”

“Momma, I’m not having a baby as a PR move.”

“Let me ask you something, Zora. Do you want to be a mother?”

Zora’s eyes softened as she pictured her future, and a saccharine smile hung on her lips as she nodded softly.

“And do your husbands want to be fathers?”

Zora couldn’t contain her giggle.

“You already know they’re just waiting on me.”

“Then you have that baby whenever you damn well please, and the rest of the world will just have to keep up. You’re a queen, Zora. You have so much more than I had, or my momma, or her momma. We had to deal with all kinds of stigmas and oppression that you’re free from. So, do what the fuck you want.”

---------

Those words danced around Zora’s head all that night, but she still chose to postpone her appointment. Not by long, just a few more weeks. However, Cheryl’s passionate refrain inspired a different course of action regarding the gala incident. Instead of praying that the ordeal would blow over, Zora and Bahati spent the next two days crafting a statement to take control of the narrative. After Cheryl lent her wordsmith expertise to the speech, Zora felt that it was finally ready for public consumption. But she needed to ensure it landed with her target audience before anyone else. 

Excitement made Zora giddy, and she was barely able to sit still while Bahati quickly ran through her end-of-day update on the student exchange program. The remaining students and their chaperones had spent the day in the Border province, sharpening their language skills while learning about Wakandan agriculture and traditional cuisine. She had been missing out on so much…

When she and Bahati parted ways for the night, Zora checked her kimoyo beads to see where her husbands were. M’Baku’s avatar stood in the kitchen housed in their royal suite, which made Zora’s stomach growl in anticipation of whatever he had whipped up. Her eyes drifted to T’Challa’s avatar darting around the training room, and she wondered who his sparring partner was today. What lucky foe got to witness the Black Panther in all his sweaty, aggressive glory?

She licked her lips as she called him.

The communication bead buzzed in her palm, and seconds later, T’Challa’s glistening form came into view. His locs were loose, so he tossed them back out of his eyes as he caught his breath. 

“Good evening, my queen.”

“Hello, husband.” Zora couldn’t help her lusting, “You look delicious.”

“Eish!” Okoye cursed off-camera, making Zora giggle.

“Uxolo, general,” she apologized with a smirk. “I thought you were done for the day.”

“She was, but I convinced her to stick around and lose a few rounds.” T’Challa dismissed Okoye and waited until she left the training room before turning back to Zora. “I still have a few more rounds in me, Babygirl.”

Zora stepped onto the elevator and let the doors swish closed behind her.

“Tempting, but business first,” she teased.

“What business?”

“Come home and find out.”

Zora ended the call before he could respond, smirking to herself. He hated it when she did that, but she loved pushing his buttons. Especially when he was already sweaty, shirtless, and revved up.

The elevator doors slid open, and she was welcomed home by the aroma of M’Baku’s home cooking. She tried to guess what it was, but it eluded her. It was definitely something she’d tasted before, but not often. The spices that swirled in the air hinted at local cuisine, nothing from the international cookbooks he had come to collect over the last few years. Something rare, as if for a special occasion–

Zora stopped in her tracks before she entered the suite. 

The date.

She had forgotten its significance to her husband, and her stomach churned with guilt. She had been so busy dealing with her own mess that she forgot it was the worst day of his life. 

Shortly after M’Baku won the Jabari chiefdom, his mother fell ill. Her lungs were weak, too weak to make it through the changing of seasons. His father wasted away slowly over the next year and finally wandered into the snow on the anniversary of her death.  

M’Baku had spent the last decade without his parents, and it had been nearly as long since he’d last spoken to his siblings. Growing up, he was the eldest of four, and all Zora knew was that only three of them remained on this plane. M’Baku refused to speak about them, so she didn’t push him on it. 

But Zora knew this day always came with heartache, so she slid out of her shoes and padded across the sunken living room to the open kitchen. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around M’Baku’s trunklike waist and buried her head in the soft fabric covering his back. She felt some of the tension release from his body at her touch, but plenty remained. 

“How was your day, my sweet?” he asked softly, and she hugged him tighter.

“I should be asking you that.”

“No need; my answer would be bleak.”

Zora released him just enough to circle around and squeeze between his body and the stovetop, forcing his sad eyes to peer into her soul. Her hands on either side of his face brought him to the verge of tears.

“I don’t care how bleak it is. I want to know everything you’re going through, baby.”

M’Baku nodded and surrendered to her delicate kisses.

“I-” he began but stopped himself from voicing the words that brought him so much guilt.

“I just miss them,” he sighed. “Every day, my home reminds me of them. Every mountaintop, every fish in the river… I am tired of the memories.”

Zora let his tears fall from his tired eyes but wiped them away with her thumbs before they could reach his beard. She walked him over to the kitchen table and sat him down as T’Challa entered the suite. He took in the scene and understood immediately.

“I’ll finish dinner, baby.” Zora kissed M’Baku’s forehead and let T’Challa take over while she kept their yearly repast from burning. She kept an eye on them from the other side of the room, watching as they mumbled to each other. M’Baku let out his tears on T’Challa’s shoulder as the king comforted him. Every now and then, Zora and T’Challa would lock eyes, and their silent conversation spoke volumes. In all their time together, they had never seen this day hit him so hard. 

M’Baku barely spoke through dinner, a haunted look in his distant gaze that unnerved Zora while they ate. It wasn’t until T’Challa cleared the table that a sigh escaped M’Baku’s lips.

“I want this more,” he stated, confusing the other two.

“This?” Zora asked, and the chief nodded.

“This. Normal life.”

T’Challa had been feeling inklings of M’Baku’s ambivalence towards his chiefdom for quite a while now. With the Jabari throne not being a blood right but a title only won through battle, M’Baku didn’t have the same sentimental connection to ruling his people. T’Challa often wondered if he would feel the same under different circumstances.

“What does normal mean to you?” T’Challa invited him to say the words that would free him.

M’Baku considered his words carefully. Over the years, he had grown to love living in the capital, far away from the ghosts that haunted the snow. The more time he spent away, the more he realized just how miserable he was at home. Since getting married, he’d spend four or five nights a week in Birnin Zana with his bride and her other husband. The Jabari elders hated him for his constant absence, but even they could see how much lighter he seemed every time he returned. The chief was unhappy being chief. It seemed that everyone knew it, and none of them could blame him, given the circumstances. 

“I no longer wish to be chief of the Jabari.”

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem , @theblulife , @motheroffae , @love-mesome-me , @toni9 , @brihann, @impremenior , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @brattyfics s, @cecereads209, @afriendlyblackhottie , @queengodiva619 , @musicisme333 ,  @dersha89 , @ljstraightnochaser , @bornamiracle , @xoxovivafics , @goddessofmischief0711 , @issahyland , @blkbutterfly816 , @judymfmoody, @novaniskye , @prettystringbean , @martakllv, @blackpinup22 , @mermaidchansons, @jadedjotun , @branium , @abeautifulmindexposed d, @prettyisasprettydoes1306 6, @reneinii

[dailyreverie]

Make this feel like home

A/N: What is it about Santiago Garcia that makes me think of the most domestic scenarios? jesus christ the way I made myself yearn with this one.... Anyway... hope y'all like it!

@flufftober - Day 7 Porch swing

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x reader

Word count: 723 words

CW: ...is domestic Santi a content warning?

Flufftober masterlist

You could watch Santiago setting up a swing all day. You had the perfect view of him from the living room, big arms and backwards cap, drill in one hand and a nail between his lips, all too distracting to focus on your reading. And sure, the view was great, but the thought of him being there, finally at home and not chasing people anymore, it wasn't just about the swing, but it was about the future you were building together.

It was Santi settling down, choosing himself over the life-threatening job that kept running him down to the ground; it was choosing you, who kept waiting years and years for him to get to your arms and start the rest of your lives together, and now that you had him there, you were sure you were never letting him go.

Hanging a swing could have been your idea, but Santi had been on board since the first minute, claiming the task of hanging in over your porch. An hour had passed since you last heard his frustrated grunt, and the only sound now was the soft rustling of leaves in the afternoon breeze. You couldn't help but wonder if Santiago had finished or if the chair had defeated him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Curiosity got the better of you and you headed outside only to be greeted by the sight of the perfectly hung swing overlooking your once-green backyard, now slowly turning a warm shade of yellow. Santiago sat on the swing, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. You knew he was awake when you noticed the gentle sway of his legs, rocking the hanging chair back and forth.

Without a word, you settled down beside him, the swing a perfect fit for just the two of you. Santiago's arm found its way around your waist effortlessly, and you snuggled closer, draping your legs across his lap.

“It looks great,” Your compliment came with a soft care of your fingertips against his tummy, pulling a quiet chuckle out of him.

“Good,” You heard the exhaustion in his voice, yet it was still accompanied by a smile. “It was a pain in the ass.”

 “I could hear that.” You joined his soft laughter, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Santi.”

“Nothing to thank, mi amor,” He assured you with a kiss against your temple, meeting your eyes for a brief moment of quiet smiles. The world outside your little balcony seemed to slow down, and all that mattered was this moment - the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms.

You stayed quiet for a moment. In those minutes you were sure Santi was falling in and out of sleep, the warmth of your body being the last thing he needed to be completely comfortable to do so.

The late afternoon sun began to turn your white porch golden and the air was getting colder by the second, but the gentle sway of the swing along with Santi’s warm arms, created a cocoon of comfort that was too inviting to walk away from. As you looked out over the yard you couldn't help but smile at the thought of this being your home: the garden, the sunset, Santi and your balcony. It was a scene straight out of your wildest dreams.

Santi's voice broke you out of your peaceful daydream, surprising you as he spoke of a gazebo. He pointed to a corner of the yard, his eyes filled with excitement. "Over there, a small gazebo with a fire pit, maybe with some fairy lights."

You couldn't help but tease him, given his earlier struggle with the swing. "You could barely hang a swing, baby."

"I could bring the guys to help!" Santiago's enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself leaning in to kiss his cheek once more.

“Then a gazebo it is.” His fingers poked your skin at the sound of your mocking tone, making you both laugh.

Santiago's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "I'll make it happen, and we’ll see who laughs then.”

You chuckled, knowing that Santiago's determination would see the project through. "I have no doubt about it, Santi."

As the day turned into evening, you both stayed on the swing, enjoying the gentle rocking motion and each other's company in your own little sanctuary.

✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂✨🍂

Thanks for reading! Pleasae reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Excerpt/Teaser for "Storge Love"

Storge; one of the eight forms of Greek love, meaning "a protective, loyal, and selfless type of love".

Paring(s); LADS Zayne x reader

Word count; 922 (for the teaser)

Themes; brother's best friend trope, small age gap (of 5 years, reader will be 23 and Zayne will be 28)

Warnings; none, but it will be 18+ with mature content

Characters included(in the full one-shot); brother! Caleb, grandma josephine, Tara, Yvonne, Greyson, Jeremiah, and slight mention of the other male leads

Notes; Hey guys! I feel weird not posting anything at all, so even if it's short...I want to post a little bit from my Zayne x reader that's a part of my Trope's one-shot series. I'm currently writing this one and my Rafayel one at the same time (both are at 2k words currently)– and I would be working on Sylus's too, but his trope is still currently being voted on.

Anyways, this one-shot is probably going to feel really disjointed and rushed, just because I want to skip through the years quickly to get to present day reader and Zayne. I don't want to spend too long in the past, but that's where this excerpt begins!

For as long as you can remember, Zayne has been a constant in your life. He and Caleb first met in middle school when you were eight, but your first meeting with Zayne was a different story.

You, a quiet yet hyperactive nine year old, were excited to play a game with your brother and his friends. It was his thirteenth birthday and you all decided to play hide-in-go seek at one of Linkon's many parks. Your grandma was seated at a picnic table, not too far away, and waves at you with a bright smile as you went to go play. She was obviously worried about you, seeing as you're a relatively quiet child– you don't try to seek out others, but you crave the attention. You never wanted to get close to anyone, but cried whenever you were alone. She knew you were a bit different since adopting you, but she tried to accommodate for you as best she could.

“Hey, Caleb!” One of your brother's friends whispers something in his ear and Caleb nods his head. “Alright, pipsqueak, you're it first!” Your brother says to you and a frown ghosts across your lips. Really…? That's…not fun. You're not good at finding people, but…he's the birthday boy and grandma always says that “when it's your birthday, what you say goes.” But you're not sure if that only applied to you or Caleb as well..

“Oh, alright..” You sigh before turning around to rest your forehead against a nearby tree. “How high do I need to count to?” “Hmmm…five bazillion!” One of Caleb's many guy friends laughs before it all goes silent. You decide to close your eyes and give them one minute. Sixty seconds…

It was still quiet, save for the wind and the parents talking amongst themselves, whenever you opened your eyes and you looked around, noticing that they really did all leave to hide. “This is so…fun.” You mutter to yourself with a deep sigh, kicking a pebble before beginning your search.

You found half of the dumb fourteen year old boys because they started laughing as soon as you got close, some even making fart noises. Real mature…

“Hey Y/n, I remember seeing Caleb go down there!” Caleb's blonde friend, who seems pretty nice, points toward the woods. “Grandma said we shouldn't go past the gazebo.” You tilt your head to the side before nodding it. You wave back as you run off. “I'll go get him! Thanks for telling me.”

“Caleb!” You cup your tiny hands over your mouth as you yell; looking up at the trees, inside of fallen trunks, through bushes. You wince as a thorn cuts your finger and you can't help the small sniffle that escapes your shaky lips. Your glassy eyes looking up at the sky, noticing it was a pretty shade of pink– well, it would've been pretty if that colour didn't mean that the sun was setting. The sun was setting and you realized you were lost.

Was…Caleb even out here? No. That boy had no reason to lie to you! Besides, if Caleb is really out here, he's probably lost just like you. He'll find you…probably.

But your optimistic demeanor fades rather quickly. You sit down at the base of a tree, picking at the loose threads on your skirt while your other arm hugs your legging-clad knees to your chest.

You take a few shallow breaths, trying to calm yourself down. It was difficult though. You were terrified of being alone, scared of the dark. You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your forehead against your knees. “I wanna go home…” you sniffle, trying your best to not completely break down.

“Hello?”

A shout shrieks past your lips and you quickly look around with wide eyes, suddenly feeling more scared at the thought of a disembodied voice talking to you. “W-who's there?” Your hand pats around until it wraps around a twig and you hold it to your chest as protection.

“Oh, Caleb's sister…how'd you get out here?” You finally spot a head of black hair as a boy walks up to you. “I-” You want to say more, but the overwhelming feeling of relief washes over you and you finally allow your tears to escape. “One of C-Caleb's stupid friends told me he was out here, and I got lost, and scared…and–” you wipe your face with your sleeve.

“Uh…” The boy is seemingly uncomfortable for a moment and pushes his glasses up before blurting out, “Do you want some ice cream?”

Your tears instantly dry up and you tilt your head to the side. “Are you trying to kidnap me? I'll have you know that my grandma and big brother both said that it's not worth it to kidnap me because the kidnapper would want to bring me back almost immediately.”

I'm not too sure when I'll post the full thing for this and Rafayel's "Ludus Love" but I just wanted to post a teaser to give yall something to read while waiting for 'Twist of Fate'!

I also really wanted to get to Zayne's one-shot because I recently fell in love with him because of his birthday 5 star card. (It took me 80 long, agonizing draws but I finally pulled him 😭)

[theoceansluvr]

Tim Drake x Reader

warning; none ! author's note; despite my whole ocean theme, i LOVEEEEE psychology !! :3 ofc i want to be a marine biologist, but forensic psychology will always hold a special place in my heart aka my back up option ! also, with school coming up + the fact im taking ap psych this year, i thought this would be a good motivation T^T

“Hey, babe ! Did you know that being in love biochemically is the same as an obsessive disorder ?" You were taking ap psychology and, to be honest, it was kicking your butt a bit. However, having a master detective as a boyfriend always helped ! Plus, it made the whole thing a little more fun. The soft smell of coffee, the scratching of pencil on paper, and the occasional kiss whenever you'd answer a question correctly. Sure, you could've just bought a Psychology for Dummies book, but it was so much easier, and more fun, to ask the boy genius that was Tim Drake for help ! "Hmm, that's a new one. Maybe that's why I like being around you so much !" He joked with a soft smile. Ever the softie he was for you, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before continuing what he was doing. There was the normal stuff to go over; Who was the father of psychology, what were the five major perspectives, Freud's Theory of Personality. All of which you had gone over for hours judging by the number of times Alfred had walked past. "Timm, I'm bored of all this stuff ! If I have to read one more sentence about Aristotle, I'm going to lose my mind," You groaned, putting your head on the table. "We can take a break if you want, rose. It's been a while since we started..." With that, you grabbed his hand and rushed off to the garden. Flowers covered the gazebo, the sun reflecting on your skin making you glow a honey sort of brown. "Maybe it's just the sleep deprivation talking, but you look beautiful," Tim teased, his cheeks a soft shade of pink and his eyes never once leaving you. He could've been right, maybe it was just his sleep deprivation, but any old lesson in psychology would've taught you it was oxytocin. Love that was undescribable by any old philosopher.

kinda sucks, but it was mainly for pure self indulgence anyways ! i love you tim drake matching my crippling psychology nerd stuff

[gifti3]

okay im back with more for this arranged marriage AU! Heres the last thing i wrote

this time i made something longer--Asmo and MC doing their little meeting/date before agreeing to marriage its fun check it out :]

the only warning is "an upset asmo getting in ur personal space'" other than that i think thats it!

Tomorrow you were supposed to meet your possible future fiancé. This type of affair was not a first time thing for you so you already had an idea of how things would go. Which was the two of you being forced to interact for several hours.

Though you knew what was coming, was it not possible to be a little nervous considering who it was you were meeting?

Asmodeus Morningstar--one of the most influential families in Nefarelin. Their was no shortage of exceptional members in that tree. And to be crass, every other potential spouse you met before were like dried leaves in comparison.

And this didn't even factor Asmodeus's own appeal and popularity. You'd only seen him in passing a few times but you could tell he was quite beautiful even from a distance. On top of that, the general public were strangely obsessed with him. You weren't completely sure why, but he must be very likeable if that's the case.

God, how many people have probably asked for his hand in marriage by now? You could only wonder.

All around it would be pretty foolish to turn this down. And that's why you were nervous…. Your parents were giving you a choice. But it was one of those choices where the answers were 'yes' or 'hmm, okay I suppose'. You did not want to know what would happen if you dare declined.

You'd already considered the logistics of this situation, dwelled on it for days. And it would definitely be a loveless marriage from your side. And that was something normal…but you were fine with how your life was currently! You didn't want to deal with any expectations romantic or otherwise from a spouse.

And what about Asmodeus.

He was well loved by many, had a reputation for enjoying the nightlife and being the center of attention. It seemed highly unlikely that a man like him was looking to "settle down" all of a sudden!

Your hands stop fiddling with your hair.

Wait.

Maybe this arrangement could work.

~

God this is so uncomfortable.

Maybe you underestimated Asmodeus. For some reason the first time your eyes met his saccharine ones, you struggled with maintaining contact. Each time, it felt like he was staring straight into your mind.

Perhaps it was just your nerves but either way you were overwhelmed. You didn't feel like yourself so had trouble talking.

Luckily for you, Asmodeus didn't notice or didn't care as he had been talking nonstop this entire time.

"Hellooo?"

"Oh--sorry what did you say?"

Asmodeus repeats his question while fanning himself. "I asked if you wanted to rest for a minute. I need a break from the sun."

"Okay…"

It was sunny today but not too hot to take a walk. Though you had been outside for a good while with Asmodeus. You both make your way to a gazebo that provided good shade around this time of day.

You rest your elbows on on of the railings and prop your head in your hands. A small sigh escapes you.

"Can you make it any more obvious that you don't want to be here?"

Asmodeus rests a small distance away, smiling but you're not so sure if he's being lighthearted about it.

It was a fair observation. These meetings always felt like a waste of time to you. They were forced interactions. The worst type. And you already knew you'd agree with the arranged marriage at the end anyways.

"Sorry, I'm just a little tired."

You look back at him and try to give a friendly(?) smile. Actually why not just be straightforward now?

"It's kind of hard to believe you want to get married. It doesn't seem like something that would interest someone like you."

"Eh…I guess there comes a time in everyone's life where they think about these things."

Very vague.

Asmodeus leans back in his chair, looking up as if he's scraping through his brain. "But I don't recall running into you beforehand. I definitely would have remembered…so how would you know that?"

"I've heard a lot about you. Kind of impossible not to."

You had a bit of an idea about him before this whole situation. But once it got out that he was "interested" in proposing, well the maids had no problem telling you everything they knew. It was definitely not all true, but it pretty much confirmed what you already felt.

"That makes sense. Isn't it great that now you get to experience me in person instead of by word-of-mouth~"

"…Uh huh. Well I feel like I should tell you now. That I plan to say yes."

"Say yes?"

"Say yes to marrying you."

You watch for any negative reactions but nothing. Though you were still sure he wasn't really interested in marriage.

"…Oh?"

"Listen I understand if you were forced into this position. In fact, I'm sure that you were. And to be honest I've never been partial to marriage myself. I always thought it wasn't in the cards for me…"

You take a step away from the railing closer to Asmodeus. "But wouldn't it be foolish to say no? Outside of the benefits it would have for my family. You're definitely one of the most sought after bachelors…and well just look at you. I'm almost a little envious…"

Asmodeus's curious face changes to something else. Something you can't really place your finger on. You just knew he didn't look very pleased.

"Well at least I know you're not blind." His fingers play with his fringe. "And that's all fine and dandy but…"

When Asmodeus stands and looks back at you your heart skips a beat. You take a step back as he takes one forward. "I hope you're ready to handle me because I don't think you can."

Oh my god what was happening?

You were frozen in place as Asmodeus trapped you against the railing between his arms. You didn't even think to push him away and just stood there stupidly.

"I-I…"

Rustling sounds from a nearby hedge, but when you both look in the direction of the noise there's giggling and the sound of retreating people.

You sigh. At least someone was enjoying the show.

You gently push at Asmodeus's chest so you can make space.

"Sorry sometimes the staff gets bored haha…er should we h-head back?"

"If that's what you want."

Asmodeus turns away from you. "I just want you to know that since this marriage is just a title I'll be sticking to my usual. Hope you don't mind~" He walks away humming to himself.

Your brows furrow…that man. Why'd he have to do all that? You weren't expecting anything different in the first place?

You let out a huge sigh. Was this going to be the norm from now on?

Well at least you both were on the same page about the marriage…. but you couldn't help but think a serious misunderstanding just occurred.

[slocumjoe]

how would companions be at the beach? who gets sunburnt for a week? who tries drowning who?

Companions have a Beach Episode

Cait; is kicking ass and taking names at volley ball. Any who step up to the net are swiftly executed, either by shame of their devastation, or Cait spiking too hard and beaning them in the head. Being a ginger, this girlie is 2x vulnerable to sunburn. Doesn't put on sunscreen, thinks its dumb. Regrets this immensely. But before her skin starts peeling off of her like an onion, and in between claiming victims, she's throwing back fun beach cocktails. Doesn't drink water. On a hot, sunny day. When she's exerting herself. Also comes to regret this. This could have gone much worse if she didn't gorge herself at the BBQ. She wears baggy swim shorts and a loose tank top.

Codsworth; Hangs out at a gazebo with a makeshift kitchen/bar area. He's not risking sand getting in delicate places, absolutely not. No, Codsy stays nice and cozy, and makes those aforementioned cocktails, as well as other cold drinks and food. When he isn't serving something or cooking, indulges in some sort of activity, like a puzzle book, a normal novel, something like that. He enjoys the energy of the beach, the sand and sun and surf, but practically...he just really wants to take a broom to it, y'know? Just...just to see if he could...but that's rude to nature. So, it's best he keep to a more manageable area. One that doesn't give him cleaning itches.

Curie; Sets up a beach towel under an umbrella, and relaxes with a good book and iced drink. Despite not going out in the sun, puts on sunscreen to set an example. Periodically chases people down with a bottle if they've yet to apply it. You are not allowed to get skin cancer on her watch. When she isn't hunting Cait for sport, Curie is simply enjoying the beachy soundscape, warmth, and general chill vibes. Will get up and check on everyone, make sure they're drinking water, et cetera. Half of her time is spent relaxing, the other half Mama Hen-ing. These people lack self-preservation instincts and it kind of drives her crazy. Wears a pastel blue two-piece with ruffles.

Danse; is in his element. Warm weather, fishing, grilling, bright-colored, gaudy-patterned shirts. This is his happy place. Gets a cooler of beer, a pole, and sits by the shore, soaking up sun like a cat. Lives out his ideal life as an old beach bum and for once, has a good day. This is Danse at his peak. He shows up in knee-length khaki shorts, socks and sandals, and a borderline-neon floral button up. Anything he catches, he grills over at Codsworth's gazebo. Spends his day fishing, bbqing, and drinking, and shocks everyone with the fact that, yes, Danse is capable of basic joy and relaxation. Just...very sparingly.

Deacon; Redhead. Unlike Cait, knows the divine agony that is a bad sunburn, and lathers himself in sunscreen. Wears a speedo, crocs, and an obnoxious sunscreen streak on his nose. Participates in volley ball, wrist is sprained by a hard serve from the Red Menace herself. Afterwards, lets Piper and later, MacCready, use him as a sculpture base. Seeing as his day was spent underneath piles of sand, didn't do much. Had a lot of drinks, though, courtesy of Piper engineering a long curly straw for him. Has to be dug out for BBQ against his will, wanted to spend the rest of his life as a mermaid. When he emerges, is caked in sand and looks like a golumn. All that sunscreen turned against him. For the next week, greets people with "Hi, I have so much sand in my ass, how ya doin'?"

Gage; Tends to dislike casual, hang-out activities on principle. Whereas Danse doesn't like them due to his social anxiety and gets nervous around people. Gage doesn't like them because he doesn't like people period. The beach is one such activity, with the added bonus of causing him physical pain. Due to his half-blindness, prolonged exposure to brightness really strains the one eye, so he sticks to Codsworth's gazebo for shade. The ocean is basically a giant disco ball and that shit triggers migraines for him. Spends the day observing the others and chainsmoking. Keeps tally of Cait's various volley ball crimes. Plays catch with Dogmeat until the pooch collapses from exhaustion. Generally does what Gage is always doing—keeping tabs and making notes. Also, mooching off free food.

Hancock; the thing about Hancock, is that it's difficult to keep him in order. You're rarely going to see him in a group, doing group pre-ordained stuff. He sticks around the others for maybe ten minutes before he wanders off to see whatever he can find. Comes back a while later with his pockets full of rocks, shells, even bones. Codsworth empties a bucket for him to put his treasure in, and Hancock's back out on the hunt. Spends his day beachcombing. Brings back stuff for MerDeacon, gets a big clump of kelp for the hair, and seashells for modesty. Hancock just paces up and the down the beach, pondering shit, collecting shit. Basically this image;

MacCready; didn’t intend on sculpting a mermaid onto Deacon, but God presented him an opportunity. MacCready has based his entire life on taking opportunities given to him. Has so many fruity drinks as he crafts his masterpiece. Whereas Piper is more interested in forming the excavation site around the corpse of this behemoth sea monster, MacCready's more interested in giving the Deac very crude and childish features, such as breasts in the image of Deacon himself. But wait, aren't mermaids seals? Seals have multiple nipples, right? Guess we have to make more Deacon tits! This descent into madness might have something to do with the copious pina coladas he put away. Getting beaned in the head by Cait also probably didn't help. Wears gym shorts and a tank top.

Nick; Curie had the right idea. Only, Nick improves on it by moving his spot much, much farther down the beach. Takes a radio, wine coolers, and various books that he goes through over the day. Reads shlock romance pulp fiction, because he felt it more thematically appropriate to the beach. Has a few towels down for cushy-ness, being an old man. Needs his back supported. He wears shorts and a long, thin-material cardigan, almost like a robe. Wouldn't look out of place telling an officer he most definitely didn't kill his husband. Nick appears later at lunch/dinner/dinch, but until then, he's sequestering himself under an umbrella and he's having a moment of peace. Considered participating in whatever the others were doing at one point. Decided against it when he saw whatever the hell was happening with Deacon.

Piper; was almost a victim of Cait, dipped when a volley ball went past her head and it sounded like an actual bullet. Wisely moved out of the firing zone and began construction of a sandcastle. She blinked, and there was Deacon, and six nipple-Deacons. Doesn’t know how it happened. Didn't question it. Turned her castle into the excavation site of a prehistoric sea creature, washed ashore and buried beneath the sand. It pays to be adaptable like that. Piper spends a good chunk of the day pissing, as she's the type to need so much water when its hot out. She doesn't start slinging back fun cocktails until its lunch/dinner/dinch. Then, it's a cocktail for every hotdog, burger, serving of fish...and Piper can put away bbq. Wears a red halter one-piece.

Preston; is the only one to consistently survive Cait's bloodbath, so he keeps her busy, so as to let the others escape her rubbery death blows. Basically just plays ball with her until she gets tired, same as Gage with Dogmeat. Preston takes some breaks, and drinks water, but its a matter of attrition. Its an endurance test. He passes by the skin of his teeth. The game ends once Cait is lured away by bbq and alcohol. At that point, Preston is better considered a husk than a man. Drops an ice pack on the ground and lays face-down on it, and takes a nap like that.

X6-88; shows up in his usual black trench coat and not a single bead of sweat forms. Haunts the gazebo for sugary drinks and treats. Everyone tries to ignore him because they get second-hand heat stroke just looking at him. He's loathe to get near the water and loathe to get sand in his clothing. Becoming the Phantom of the George Foreman Grill was the only outcome for him. Backseat sous chef, constantly questioning Danse and Codsworth's methods or choices. Codsworth politely takes the criticism, and ignores it. Danse just chucks candy into the bushes to lure him away.

[full-of-mercy]

@typhoonvash

The only shade down here in the town square comes from the wedding gazebo, and even then it is scant. The suns bear down overhead like a pair of lidless eyes, leaving only the shadows each person stands or sits within.

Wearing down resistance, just as the mayor hoped.

The crowd is divided, a tenuous meeting of families that can all agree on one thing: they are eager to get this over with.

Wolfwood is too.

What a day to be dressed in all black except for a white strip of a collar, and completely buttoned up. If nothing else, the fabric hides the sweat running down the channel of his spine just as well as it conceals the bruises covering his neck and shoulders.

And chest. And elsewhere.

He cannot bring himself to regret that, even if early morning languor nearly made him late. Something about keeping a promise (particularly a purchased promise). Not that the mayor made any specific requests beyond 'a proper ceremony' up to interpretation, and maybe Wolfwood has taken a bit of inspiration. Maybe he has decided to try something else on for size. The past hour has been a matter of gathering, of bumbling through greetings and prayers at request, and now the couple meant to be bound stands before the makeshift dais, hand in hand.

"First time, huh?" Nicholas asks of the two - they can't be older than twenty, not that it is easy to tell - and their jumpy jolt betrays their nerves. They laugh, though, a thread of tension broken, rolling into awkward but heartfelt I dos.

"Lord God, thank you for this joyous day. Bless this union, that these two souls may make a place in this world to flourish, and that they may live together in love and peace."

That feels right. Adjacent to right. It is clear they want to be here, for all that they want to be anywhere but here. The mayor and those behind him on that side of the aisle look pleased, stark contrast to the other side, all grim-faced and squinting.

With an air of finality, Wolfwood nods and addresses those gathered at large. "If anyone can show just cause why this pair may not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

… and then all Hell breaks loose with the belch of gunfire off to one side of the crowd, ripping through the pulpit and spraying the seated row with splinters. Chaos becomes a crush of bodies, a surge from back to front of overlapping argument, with flung fists and more iron brandished.

It is pure instinct. Ingrained. Trained beyond nature, beyond words. Nicholas flows into motion, interposing between the new couple and the objections voiced in hot lead, ushering them toward cover as more bullets fly.

"Y'ain't keepin' my grandson in this shithole with yer sham, Dodgson!" the rifle-slinger shouts from the flank, taking aim on the mayor now, though nothing that moves away from the melee is safe.