#Gift Elderly Women | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kazumist · 4 days ago

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SWEETLY BAKED WITH LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — in which zayne finds himself in a problem with his older patients relentlessly introducing and telling him about their daughters and granddaughters to him because he's single. what's a good way to shoo them off? perhaps wearing a keyring and fake dating your friend would do the trick!

✩ — includes: zayne x f!baker!reader. fluff. fake dating trope (not executed properly sorry i dont think i gave it justice), not much drama and confession scene is a bit boring imo :/, pace is a bit messy, based of that one part in the cdrama "the best thing", cw: food mentioned (baked sweets and wine), they're both idiots in love, wc: 7,166. i went insane Yes so what.

✩ — note: hi babes @koiukiy-o it's finally finished like can u believe it. i finished it in one fucking day initially but i woke up at 6am in the morning today (its around half past 7am by the time posting this) and added a bit more.

for zayne, being a young, famous, and favored doctor in akso hospital isn’t as pleasing as it sounds. only because the majority of his older patients try to match him up with their daughters with every given chance during their appointments scheduled with him.

at first, it wasn’t all that serious. zayne even initially thought that maybe elderlies these days have started to grow accustomed to sharing stories of their children—of their daughters, specifically, who are coincidentally in the same age range as him. perhaps it was a new thing; yeah, that was probably it.

until the introductions became more frequent.

ONE: AS SURPRISING AS A SUDDEN BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE AT YOUR DOOR.

from a father whose daughter is a successful certified public accountant (CPA) to a mother whose daughter is currently a cardiology resident in a nearby hospital, the names and positions of these women have started to jumble in his head. all zayne could do is take a deep breath and smoothly deflect the questions of his patients regarding his current relationship status.

“dr. zayne, you know, i have this daughter..." here we go again. zayne tunes out whatever the old woman was saying, nodding every now and then to convince her that he was interested. the old woman’s daughter was something of a business owner, though it’s not like zayne is actually paying that much attention to the description his patient was giving him. his focus is solely on the results that are in his hands.

“do you have someone special in your life right now, dr. zayne?” zayne pauses; the shuffling of the lab reports in his hands stopped as he processed the question.

does he?

zayne doesn’t think that he does.

he has a few people that he cherishes in his life, yes. but does he think of himself settling down with someone by his side? well… not really—not yet, at least. zayne hasn’t given it that much thought himself. “before i answer that question, let’s discuss what your results have given us…” this method of zayne changing the subject works like a charm every time he does it. and with a blink of an eye, the old woman forgot her question and left after getting her new prescriptions from him.

zayne leans back on his chair, taking off his specs and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. he takes a deep breath, until his peace is interrupted by a knock at his door. the old woman should’ve been the last one; yvonne just came in and told him so not so long ago. he sits up right, fixing his posture as his professionalism starts to take over.

yet when the door creaks open to reveal you, zayne’s shoulders relax as he sits back once again.

maybe his peace wasn’t interrupted after all.

“what brings you here?” he asks you, eyeing you suspiciously as you’re obviously hiding something from him behind your back. “i come bearing gifts—one sweet little blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery! tadaaaa!” you say, revealing the little box to zayne and settling it on his desk, hoping he’d also envision the imaginary jazz hands you were doing before putting a plastic fork on top of it for him to use.

zayne has a sweet tooth and that’s practically common knowledge to you. and with you owning a bakery... well, let’s just say that the youngest heart surgeon in linkon city plays his favorites when it comes to shops that sell sweet pastries.

a smile cracks onto his face as he sees the box. gently removing the fork on top and opening the box, zayne inspects the blueberry cheesecake before him as if contemplating if he should eat it now or save it when he gets home. “you don’t have to eat it now, silly. i just wanted to drop it off before your work ends today,” you say.

“no, it’s alright. i’ll eat it now. the toppings could get ruined when i travel back home.”

as he starts taking a few bites, you propped your chin onto your palm and lean on it, staring at the sweet dessert that’s slowly being consumed right in front of you. “sooo, do you have someone in your life right now, dr. zayne?” you asked him, putting emphasis on the way you called him as a sign of mockery.

zayne deadpans at your question, suddenly stopping himself from getting another bite. his expression is clearly conveying a message to you wordlessly: are you being serious right now? but zayne just sighs and continues on getting another bite before replying. “how did you know about that?”

“i heard you two through the door. and when your last patient came out—she was a delight, by the way, greeting me so kindly—she suddenly asked me if i was your girlfriend! i obviously didn’t answer her properly and good thing yvonne came in to save the day and escort her out of the cardiology department.” you told him.

the sweetness of the small piece of blueberry glides across his senses as he listens to you. zayne finds himself sighing deeply for what seems like the nth today, twirling the fork in his hand as he thinks. he doesn’t like burdening this problem of his with you, especially when you have nothing to do with it. “seems like you’re thinking about a lot there. are your thoughts being consumed by the numerous names that got mentioned to you?” you teased.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i was only kidding! you looked so deep in thought there. is everything alright?”

zayne doesn’t know either. he doesn’t know how long he could keep deflecting and changing the topics when his patients try to pry into this part of his life. he has a soft spot for his patients, sure, and he’s satisfied with his job. though zayne didn’t know that he would be signing up for this when he became a cardiac surgeon.

“yes, my apologies. i seemed to have spaced out for a moment there.”

you glance over him, observing his mannerisms and his habits. whenever zayne twirls or plays with the item in his hand, it means he’s thinking. whenever he sits back on his chair, that means he’s relaxed. yet you never seen him space out—not until now, at least—and that’s what’s different.

odd.

but you didn’t push the topic further, as you’re well aware that zayne isn’t the type to express himself so freely. and as if a light bulb literally just gained it’s light inside your brain, the gears inside your head started turning as you suddenly got an idea. “i think i just got the greatest idea of my life.” you asked him.

“and what would that be?” he asks back. should i be scared? he thinks.

“you’ll see! just you wait and look forward to the next time i’ll drop by and visit.” you flash him a grin as zayne finishes the last bit of the blueberry cheesecake.

TWO: AS ENTICING AS SIX MACARONS SERVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

the next time you saw each other, you didn’t visit zayne. zayne visited you, striding towards you sitting behind the counter. today was a saturday. and during saturdays, you open your shop a bit later than your usual opening time during weekdays.

seeing the doctor visit your shop sometimes gives you a pinch of nostalgia coursing through you. you never would’ve expected to form a connection with a praised doctor in linkon in your life. but you don’t really have any regrets about it. you enjoy the surgeon’s company and he seems to enjoy yours.

“and what brings you here today, dr. zayne?” you say, greeting him as his eyes scan the pastries displayed before him. “please, refrain from the formalities. do you have anything new to recommend?” he replies.

your gaze follows his as you join him in looking for a pastry to offer. “hmm… oh! i know! you could taste test a new macaron flavor i’ve been trying. would you mind taking a seat while i got get them for you?” zayne nods before finding himself a seat and you take that as your cue to start running towards the kitchen located at the inner part of your establishment.

when you got out, you joined him at the two-seater table he decided on, sitting across from him. “lately, i’ve been indulging myself in making macarons, right? and i wanted a different flavor for a change so i paired two ingredients together! take a bite and guess what it is.” you said, pushing the box of macarons towards him.

zayne inspects the macarons in front of him, attempting to deduce the flavor. it has a light brown color, with the filling having a deeper shade of brown. could it be two types of chocolate? he thinks.

“staring at it will get you nowhere if you don’t actually taste it, you know.”

he snaps out of his thoughts at your words. he awkwardly coughs into his fist, avoiding your gaze. you stifled a laugh at him but zayne noticed it, feeling his ears grow hot. “ahem. pardon me for that. i’ll taste them now.” he says, grabbing a piece of the pastry. as soon as he takes a bite, the familiar taste of coffee beans (perhaps roasted?) and nutella washes over his tongue.

you were right; this was a different flavor that you don’t see often. “it’s delicious. were the coffee beans roasted? or were they grounded?” a small gasp escapes your lips at his question. “it was roasted, yeah! i’m surprised you noticed that; i didn’t think anyone would.”

“i felt the small chunks of the coffee beans as i chewed. and nutella as a filling balances the taste of the beans. i’d say it’s a good product to endorse.”

“really?”

zayne hums in agreement, finishing the macaron in his hand before grabbing another one from the box. “i recall that you haven’t told me your “idea” yet since the last time we saw each other.” he says, before taking another bite.

“oh! sorry about that; i keep forgetting to stop by akso hospital lately. but worry not—i didn’t forget about my idea!” you replied, fishing something out of your pocket. it was a keyring, though it wasn’t that obvious at first glance. “your idea is... a keyring?” he asks.

“wrong, the keyword is ring!” you say, grabbing his hand to check if it fits on his ring finger.

you seemed unaware of the effect of your actions, suddenly taking zayne by surprise by your sudden touch. he feels the cold metal wrap around the ring finger of his dominant hand. “look, it’s a perfect fit! just remember to always have it on, especially when you have appointments and surely those introductions would be gone, right?”

zayne inspects the keyring around his finger, flipping his hand as he takes it in. “i never would’ve expected that a keyring could act as a marriage ring.” he states. “m-marriage ring?!” you exclaimed. i never really thought of it as that. you thought, mentally sweatdropping. “is it not supposed to be?” zayne’s gaze at you shows obvious confusion. “well… i guess it could serve as that. i just thought of it as some fake promise ring that you could use at most.”

“the purpose is the same. i don’t think it matters what it stands for—the main purpose of this is to show my older patients that i’m taken, right?”

“yup! it’s nothing much, really, but i feel bad for what you have to endure when you have your appointments. do you think it would work?” you reply.

“we just have to play our cards right and then we’ll see.”

“mhm! wait—we?”

“yes, we. did i say something wrong?” there he goes again with the confused look.

“what do you mean… we?” this better not be what i’m thinking. you hoped, bracing yourself for whatever bomb he was about to drop.

but just as your luck to that runs out, zayne replies. “i thought we were both going to be wearing keyrings?” fuck, i knew it. you thought. inside your head, you can envision yourself on all fours, punching the ground as you also try to think of something—anything to reply with.

“but you’re the only one who has this... conflict. what use would it be if i also wore one?”

before zayne could even realize it, he already took a step and started sailing in dangerous, uncharted waters. “you told me a few times, including the time that you last visited, that my patients have wondered and asked if you were my significant other. wouldn’t it be more convincing if we were to uphold that sentiment?”

you swore you could feel your soul drain itself out of your body.

“so you want us to... fake date, basically? so we could stop your older patients from introducing their endless amount of daughters and granddaughters? did i get that right?” you ask again, just to be sure if what you’re hearing is actually right and real.

“yes, you’re quite spot-on.”

“you’re lucky that i have two keyrings by coincidence.”

well, it’s not like it’s going to be anything serious. and it’s also beneficial for me because they also pester me with their questions every time i visit. the offer is way a bit enticing for it’s own good—but everything should be fine.

with a soft sigh and one macaron left on the box (you and zayne were snacking on them as you had your discussion), you spoke again. “you’ve got yourself a deal. you better start wearing that keyring, dr. zayne.”

“i don’t think you should be calling me that when we’re supposed to portray ourselves like a couple.” he remarked.

you choke on your own saliva at his statement. “w-we’ll talk about the other details another day! how does the next time i visit—which i actually promise to do now—sound?” cursing yourself for stammering (but how could you not when he caught you so off guard?), you try your best not to embarrass yourself any further. “that sounds good.”

as the last macaron on the box you served gets consumed, you find yourself securing a peculiar deal with a certain heart surgeon.

THREE: AS SOUR AS A BITE OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MELTING ON YOUR TONGUE.

staying true to your promise, you visited zayne a few days after his visit to your bakery. you had the same keyring wrapped around your ring finger, hoping to find zayne the same. “are you busy?”

he glances at you from his monitor and you notice that his shoulders relax again when he realizes it was you in the doorway. “what pastry do you have in store for me this time?” he asks you as you approach to have yourself a seat on the small couch.

“sadly there’s no pastry today; i accidentally forgot to grab one from the bakery’s fridge before i left but next time i’ll bring you some strawberry shortcake!”

“i’ll take note of that.”

zayne then continues to speak. “about where we stopped our discussion last time... would it be okay with you to completely drop with the formalities in general? you don’t have to call me dr. zayne, especially when we’re in the hospital.”

“what do i call you then?”

“zayne would be just fine. almost no one calls me that here.”

“zayne, huh… zayne, zayne… zayne.” you repeat his name to get yourself used to it. “alright then, doct—i mean, zayne.”

he nods at you in acknowledgement as you shift your gaze at his dominant hand. surely enough, you saw that keyring on his finger. “i see you’re wearing the keyring. did it work so far?” you ask him. “actually, yes, it did. the introductions lessened and i found myself at peace with most of my appointments today.”

“so my plan does work. huh, i never would’ve thought.” zayne takes this as an opportunity to reply. “how about you? did your keyring work?”

“not yet, i guess? when i arrived, yvonne told me that your appointments and checkups were done for the day. so i didn’t really encounter any of your patients today. maybe next time.”

zayne visited your bakery during the weekend again. although unfortunately, you weren’t there. one of your employees said that you were busy with an errand today so zayne just got a slice of yet another blueberry cheesecake on the go and quickly made his leave.

(he doesn’t see why he would stay when he isn’t sure of what time you’d return.)

the next time you and zayne saw each other, you had forgotten to bring the strawberry shortcake you told him back then. but what did happen is that you encountered a few familiar patients of zayne’s. they were all women who looked like they’re in their mid-sixties in a group of three. they were chatting nearby the entrance to zayne’s office when they spotted you.

and apparently, one of them recognized you.

“hello, dear. you’re the one who brings dr. zayne snacks, right? i remember seeing you here before.” she says, approaching you. “ah, yes! that would be me.” you let out a soft chuckle at her. “how kind of you to do so! are you perhaps his girlfriend?” another woman asks. the woman who approached you (who introduced herself as violet), shushes her friend. “don’t throw sudden questions at the lady! sorry about her, dear.”

the third woman in their group suddenly perks up and points at your hand. “look violet, her ring looks familiar... where have i seen it before, i wonder?” as soon as she said that, all three of the women’s attention was now all on your hand with the keyring on it.

“isn’t that like the ring on dr. zayne’s hand?”

there was then a moment of silence before they all realized what that question meant.

after escaping the clutches of their neverending queries (that you tried to answer as much as you could, and you never could’ve escaped without yvonne’s help of escorting them out), you finally got to knock on zayne’s office.

“come in.” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

once you settle down yourself inside, you let out a huge and relieved sigh. “was there a commotion outside? i heard multiple voices through the door, one of them being yours.” zayne asks.

“ah, well it turns out that your patients are really observant. did you know i had to make up some fake story on the spot of how we met?”

“is that so? do you mind telling me what this story is? they might ask about it the next time they come for a checkup.” he replies.

the actual story of how you and zayne met wasn’t really that far off from the one you told the small group of old ladies.

(it was dusk when you encountered zayne on the sidewalk; you accidentally bumped into him and he noticed you were seemingly in a rush. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was running.” zayne waves his hand dismissively. “it’s alright, are you hurt?”

“not at all—” you checked the time with your wrist watch. “crap! uhm, excuse me, sir. do you know if there’s a flower shop nearby here? i’m in a terrible need of dried flowers at the moment.” you ask him.

zayne thought about it for a moment, trying to recall if there is one. he then tells you the directions to the flower shop he has seen in the area and you immediately thanked him. “thank you, thank you so much! feel free to drop by the cozy oven. my treat for helping me! thank you again, kind sir!” you say before running off in the direction he told you.

that was first time you met him and you were sure that was also the first time he met you.

but what if it isn’t?)

“oh, you know, i just told them some silly old cliche where i bumped into you while holding two bouquets of flowers and decided to treat you to some coffee as an apology. nothing that out of the ordinary, really.”

“noted. they’ll probably ask me about which bouquet it was next time.” this time it was his turn to let out a sigh.

“oh yeah! one of my staff members said you visited the bakery last weekend. sorry, i was busy that time. my friend ordered a cake for this event and i was also invited to it so i had to leave the job of handling the bakery to my employees.” you told him. “it’s alright, don’t fret.”

that day ended with zayne offering you a ride home.

the next few times you and zayne were together after that, you swear something was changing.

you never thought zayne could be the touchy type; he grabs ahold of your hand, going as far as interlocking your fingers together. hell, he even puts his hand on your waist when you’re walking in public.

you knew what you were getting into when you both agreed on that deal. but it’s just so... strange. scary, if you think about it.

how is he so good at this? no, more like—

why does it feel so real?

zayne is an attractive man, and that was certainly a fact. smart, rich, handsome, and well-mannered—he’s even soft spoken for goodness sake! that man has got it all, which is no wonder why some of his patients would want to set up their daughter with him. any woman would be lucky to experience what it’s like to be loved by him.

but is this what it feels like?

perhaps.

that was all you could say—after all, this is all just a fake setup so you both could shoo away his patients.

yet if it was all fake, why were your faces suddenly so close to one another right now? your lips were close to brushing against each other; one small nudge and you’d find out what it was like to kiss zayne.

the sudden phone ring echoing somewhere in the room snaps the both of you out of it.

as you both pull away out of surprise, zayne picks up the phone. “this is zayne speaking.” he says.

you just sat there on his couch, wondering many things.

it’s just a fake stunt. don’t get sidetracked, (y/n).

but why is it that whenever you remind yourself that it is fake, an uncertain pang hits your chest? you never could tell zayne this; he might think you suddenly have a heart condition and be concerned (and you wouldn’t be surprised because he is someone who is under cardiology).

this could be nothing. no, scratch that; it is nothing. zayne is an impossible man to reach, and he is only a friend to you.

nothing more, nothing less.

the next time you visited zayne at akso hospital, you finally had a slice of strawberry shortcake stored safely in a box for him.

you were still distracted by the time you two almost kissed, but you couldn’t let zayne know that for obvious reasons.

at this point in your fake dating plan, his patients are all convinced that you both are together, finding it cute and squealing in awe when you see each other in the hallway where his office is located. you were surprised at how well you and zayne were pulling this off.

“special delivery for dr. zayne?” you say, peeking through the door to check if he’s busy. “and what did i order this time?” he asks back. you take that as your cue to step inside. “one slice of a promised and long overdue strawberry shortcake!” you told him, setting down the small box and another plastic fork on top of the box.

“about time you remembered.” he says, taking the fork and opening the box. the familiar scent of strawberry shortcake then circulates around the two of you, which made zayne take a bite almost immediately. “are you planning on visiting the bakery this weekend?” you then ask him.

zayne swallows before he speaks. “i have thought about it, yes. and i was actually planning to ask you about your weekend plans today actually.”

“oh? why?”

“i was just wondering if you’d like to make plans with me since i’m usually off-duty during weekends.”

you become a bit awkward as soon as zayne says that. and zayne, being as observant as ever, obviously noticed it. “is there something wrong? it’s okay if you’re busy.” you waved your hands at him, “no, no! it’s not like that. well, kinda i guess? ugh, it’s just that…”

“i may or may not have agreed to go on a blind date this weekend.”

if zayne hadn’t listened that carefully, he would’ve missed it. but no, he caught every single word that slipped out of you. the sour taste of the sliced strawberry, along with the spongy texture of the cake, suddenly felt like sand in zayne’s mouth. and as ironic as that, he suddenly feels iffy as soon as you say that—like he was also sour. “is that so… that’s alright. you should enjoy your plans instead.”

“wait. you’re not mad?”

am i mad? zayne mentally asked himself. he doesn’t think he is, but he does somewhat feel disturbed by the idea of you going on a date with another man, and that doesn’t feel right to him either. “i’m not. why would i be mad?” a lie.

you stiffen at your seat, trying to come up with an explanation. that question just slipped off of your tongue; you didn’t mean to ask that. “well, uhm.. you know, because we’re in this fake dating thingy, i just thought it would be weird to you if i were to go see someone else and all that, yeah.”

“you said it yourself; this is all fake. so i’m not stopping you if you want to do that.”

ouch? why does his confirmation that it’s nothing serious get a kick to it? you thought. “really? okay then, thanks for letting me know.”

zayne couldn’t shake off the sourness of the strawberry from his tongue. and the thing is—the strawberries that you use for your products aren’t even that sour. it was more sweet than sour in the first place. so why? why can’t he get the sourness off?

why does he suddenly feel so bitter at the thought of you seeing someone else?

the rest of the hour felt a bit suffocating after that.

FOUR: AS BLAND AS MISSING THE DELECTABLE TASTE OF YOUR COMPANY.

when the weekend rolled around, zayne didn’t visit your bakery. he didn’t find a need to because you weren’t there. he wasn’t close to your staff and he doesn’t really want to get close to them. and zayne isn’t that close with a lot of people in general, so he decided to spend his weekend at home.

he thinks about the conversation he had with you when you brought up the topic of having a blind date scheduled today.

and he still feels sour about that. he doesn’t know why.

then he suddenly remembers the one time when he was so close to feeling your lips on his. zayne hoped that he wasn’t obvious but this moment had perhaps made him short circuit. your face was so close—he could take every little detail of your features with the distance.

but you just had to have this blind date today.

zayne feels even more sour after that.

he was a doctor, yes, but he obviously isn’t an expert in psychology or emotions. so as he unlocks his phone, he opens the web browser installed and types in the search bar.

now, jealousy was a foreign concept for zayne.

he stares blankly at the results his search shows him, a part of him refusing to believe that what he was feeling was jealousy and the rational part of him telling himself that if this isn’t it, what else could it be?

but another question puts him in a dilemma. why is he even jealous in the first place?

of course you can go see other people. he doesn’t have the right to be mad about that. zayne didn’t own you, and you didn’t own zayne. if he were in your position, you’d just let him go on that blind date.

yet the idea of you falling in love with another makes him uneasy.

oh.

zayne wasn’t stupid. he didn’t need to drown himself in any more thoughts on this matter to realize what was happening to him.

he was falling.

falling for you, to be specific.

and there’s nothing that could help him.

being forced into a blind date never goes well. and you swore that you'd strangle your friend who forced you into this in the first place.

“so, what do you do for a living?” your date asks before sipping from his glass of red wine. “oh, i’m a baker. i run a bakery, actually. it’s located nearby akso hospital.”

“is that so? what do you usually bake?”

“i bake all sorts of things! from cakes to macarons—“ you pause when you say macarons. you suddenly recall the day when you asked zayne to taste test your new macaron flavor. you cleared your throat to regain composure.

“sorry about that; something just came to mind. but like i said, i bake a whole lot of cakes and pastries. i like to experiment with new flavors, you see. what about you?”

“oh, i’m currently a resident at akso hospital actually!” the man before you says. “really? under which department?” you ask him. “cardiology. i always found the heart a fascinating thing to study.”

you tried to hold yourself back from choking on your wine. “c-cardiology, you say…?” hearing the term come out of your date’s mouth has something uncomfortable bubbling up inside of you. your mind finds itself drifting back to zayne—

what am i even thinking? get a grip (y/n)! you’re on a date for fuck’s sake!

“mhm. one of my mentors is really nice, a bit cold but i know he’s just really like that. his name is dr. zayne, by the way.” and as if the universe is mocking you right now, your date just had to say that his mentor was zayne of all people.

“i think i’ve heard of him once or twice, yeah. he’s a good heart surgeon, right?”

as time seemed to pass by, you could feel yourself feeling more distracted. when the waiter came to ask if you’d like any dessert, your mind immediately thought of zayne.

while looking through the dessert menu, you wondered if zayne would like what this restaurant is offering. what would zayne’s opinion be on this?

and your date continues to speak, the sole fact that he’s a resident under zayne, was enough to sidetrack your mind towards him.

zayne, zayne, zayne. this whole date has done nothing but remind you of the doctor.

by the time the date was over, you entered the door to your apartment complex (which is located above your bakery) and slid against the door as soon as you closed it.

removing your heels as you were on the floor, you let out a sigh. “what the fuck is going on with me tonight?” you asked no one in particular.

the date wasn’t even bad but nothing about it felt right for you. like there was something clearly wrong with the whole principle of you going on a blind date in the first place but you didn’t know what it was.

you try to recall what happened before the blind date happened, trying to see if something would have triggered your current state.

your recollection brings you to the time you told zayne about the blind date a few days ago.

something felt off about him when you dropped the bomb on him that time. it’s as if something shifted in the air when you revealed your plans for the weekend to him.

“oh, god. you have got to be kidding me.” you facepalmed when the realization dawned upon you.

your thoughts were running. how could’ve i been so stupid? it was written all over my face in the first place! i like zayne. holy shit i actually—

but it all stops there when you then realize what you just said.

you didn’t visit zayne after your blind date. and when he visits your bakery, you hide yourself from him in the kitchen (and you also told your employees to not spill a word about your actual whereabouts, making them form excuses on what you’re up to).

simply to say, you were avoiding zayne.

it scared you. you didn’t know what to do with your new feelings, especially when the whole fake dating thing was still ongoing for the both of you.

how can you keep faking it all up when everything just feels so real? when you couldn’t help but wonder if you’re still friends after everything you’ve done?

zayne: Are you going to visit today?

zayne: I miss getting my special delivery.

you stared at his message, trying to process it. why did he have to say it like that? what does he mean by that? you thought.

(y/n): sorry, i can’t.

(y/n): i need to prioritize some cake orders for now. maybe next time.

zayne: Oh, alright then.

you know full well that there most probably won’t be a next time. you’ll just keep denying and deflecting as much as you can—and as long as you can.

however, zayne knew you were avoiding him and he most definitely didn’t need to be a genius to notice that.

but he doesn’t know why. was it something that he did? were you alright? perhaps you haven’t been feeling well as of late. were you overworking yourself lately?

zayne thinks about the time you two almost kissed again. maybe he should’ve gone for it. maybe he shouldn’t have answered that goddamn phone call. maybe—

maybe he shouldn’t have let you go on that blind date.

your phone vibrates against the pocket of your apron. you pull it out to check the notification and go blank at the sender.

zayne: Have you been well?

zayne: We haven’t seen each other lately.

his clinic hours are not the same as of late. zayne got so used to you visiting him at akso—to seeing you in general—that it just feels... bland now that you’re not present.

zayne misses you. and he wonders if you miss him too.

FIVE: AS SWEET AS KNOWING THAT I WASN’T TOO LATE.

(before you bumped into zayne on the sidewalk, you two had actually met.

once in a cafe, and once in the grocery store... zayne had noticed that since you two lived in the same community, it was bound that you’d encounter each other a lot—although you don’t really seem to notice him.

when zayne met you in the grocery store, the first thing that he noticed about you was that your shopping cart was halfway filled with baking ingredients. there were at least three (or was it four?) dozen of eggs stacked, two packs of all-purpose flour, a small bottle of sprinkles (both the colorful and chocolate ones), and a whole lot more.

at first glance, any other person would ignore you. zayne would be one of them—he had no clue why he noticed you and your shopping cart. he was only in the aisle because it’s the way to where the bread was located.

that was the first time zayne sees you.

the second time he saw you, zayne encountered you in a cafe this time. weeks passed since he saw you while he was out for groceries and you had papers sprawled all over the small table in front of you. zayne didn’t really get a good look at them but he assumed that it was all sorts of cake design from the single glance he got to have.

wedding cakes, birthday cakes, anniversary cakes. there were a whole bunch of designs. perhaps you baked for a living.

again, at first glance, any other person would ignore you. and zayne would still be one of them—though would this become a lie because isn’t it strange that it has happened twice? not like there’s anything bad with noticing you. it’s just... out of his character, per se.

the third time zayne meets you, it was the time you also recall—the encounter on the sidewalk. now, what were the chances that zayne would meet you there that late afternoon? he didn’t know.

and with that small conversation between the two of you happening, zayne’s assumption was correct. the baking ingredients, the cake designs, and now you telling him to visit your bakery—

maybe he should visit the cozy oven during the weekend.)

around three weeks have passed since you started ignoring him. you were surprised at how well you were doing so far. not like it was hard doing so. the real challenge was to ignore his texts and make yourself reply late.

and when he visits the bakery, which is what’s going on right now.

it was almost nine in the evening when you finished closing up your bakery. you heard footsteps getting louder, signaling that someone is walking towards you.

“there you are.” you knew that voice anywhere.

“zayne? what are you doing here at this hour?” you ask him out of surprise. “well, a certain someone seems to be hiding from me, so i thought it was time to change my strategy and do a surprise attack. it looks like it worked.”

“ah. sorry about that... work has been a bit busy. you know?” you take in zayne’s appearance before you, eyes slightly widening at the keyring that is still on his finger.

(how ironic because you were also wearing yours at the moment. your excuse would be “it was out of pure habit.”)

“so busy that even when i visit you hide yourself from me?”

he got you there. “i—no, no! it’s just that—“ zayne cuts you off with another question. “did i do something wrong?”

“what?”

“you heard me. (y/n), did i do something wrong? i understand that you’ve been busy but something feels different. like there’s something more to it than just you being busy.” he then says. why does he have to be always so observant?

the guilt of your decisions as of late started to eat you up inside. “i… i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” zayne asks again.

“i mean, it’s not like i literally don’t know but it’s just... did we even do the right thing? you know, fake date and all of that.”

zayne could feel the unease creeping up on him with your question. “the plan worked, did it not?”

“no, zayne. what i mean is that did we do the right thing with fake dating in the first place? because for the love of god, we almost kissed! and—and we’re both old enough to realize that friends don’t just... kiss.”

“is this about your blind date a few weeks ago?” you don’t know what he means by that. because you never met up again with that blind date, telling him that as much as it was nice to know him, you’re not really interested in giving romance a whirl for now.

you didn’t know what to answer to that. “so it is.” he then says. you wanted to say no, but no words came out of you. it was as if your lips felt like they were sewn closed. “i guess i was too late then.”

too late?

“wait—what do you mean too late?”

zayne’s look in his eyes confused you. you couldn’t decipher the emotions that were present in his gaze. “aren’t you still seeing your blind date nowadays?”

then it all made sense to you.

zayne thinks the reason you started avoiding him was probably because he thought you hit it off with your blind date. before you could answer his question, he speaks again. “to be honest with you, recently, especially during your absence, i have come to the realization that i like you, (y/n).”

wait. what?

too speechless to cut in, he continues. “i felt off when you first said that you agreed to that blind date of yours. i just brushed it off back then but later i realized that it was because i was jealous. i soon regretted not doing anything about it—and when you started ignoring me, i couldn’t help but think that maybe you didn’t want to visit me anymore in my office as a sign of respect to your new lover.” in other words, i missed you.

you try to process everything that he just came clean about. but there is only one highlight in everything he said—he likes you. zayne likes you.

and you like him too.

“first of all, i’m really sorry for ignoring you, zayne. i honestly only did it out of fear because i recently realized that i like you too.” zayne was about to speak up when you raised a hand to shush him. “let me finish first. i never met with my blind date again after our first meeting. i told him that i kindly told him that i didn’t want to try romance for now—though that was partially a lie because i only find myself wanting to try romance out with you.”

zayne also only got one highlight out of that—you like him too. that’s all that matters to him.

“so i wasn’t too late?” he then asks.

you take a few steps closer to him. “no, zayne. you’re just in time.” zayne’s hands find themselves on your waist. “then can i kiss you?” you shoot him a playful glare. “are you sure a phone call isn’t going to interrupt us this time?” you then say, arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

“i’m sure.”

“then you can.”

and without hesitation, zayne leans in to capture your lips with his. he could feel you smiling in the kiss, and zayne savors the faint taste of your lippie—not minding that it might have smudged on his lips now.

when you both pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle. zayne’s lips were covered in some of your tinted lip gloss. you reach out a hand to smudge it away before pecking him a quick kiss to his nose and asking him, “do you want to come inside? i have a new macaron flavor for you to taste test.”

“is that so? what is it this time?” he replies, hands not leaving your waist.

“salted caramel! but not the ones that are sweet; i made sure that this one actually has a salty kick to it!”

zayne definitely has a sweet tooth.

yet there’s nothing more sweet than knowing that you like him too.

#( writings )#love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #l&ds zayne #zayne #x reader

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heliosunny · 23 days ago

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Hi, I enjoy reading your stories! For the request, can I please have yandere Robin x reader?

MYSTERY PLANT

Yandere!Robin x Reader

You never expected much from a simple sapling. The tiny Robin Pear tree had been left abandoned near a market stall, its leaves trembling in the wind as if pleading for someone to take it home. You had always been good at nurturing fragile things, so taking it in felt natural.

Days passed, then weeks. The tree flourished under your care, its thin branches stretching toward the sun, leaves unfurling in vibrant green. Then, one evening, beneath a moonlit sky, something impossible happened.

A petal drifted down from the tree's blossoms, shimmering as it landed in your palm. A sweet voice whispered through the room.

"You’ve taken such good care of me… Now, let me return the favor."

The branches trembled, then split apart with a shudder. A gust of wind filled the room, carrying a floral scent that made your head spin. And then, from the heart of the tree, she emerged.

She was breathtaking. Ethereal liliac-silver hair cascaded down her waist, curling slightly at the ends, a halo-like ornament resting atop her head. Pale wings, resembling those of a celestial songbird. Her teal eyes, brimming with warmth, met yours, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile.

"Robin." The name left your lips instinctively, as if you'd always known her.

Her smile widened. "Yes, and you, Y/n… you are mine."

From the moment she arrived, Robin has been following you around. She hummed melodies as she watched you sleep, brushed her fingers through your hair when she thought you wouldn’t notice.

"I bloomed for you" she whispered one evening, her arms wrapping around you in an embrace "You wouldn’t abandon me, would you?"

At first, you weren’t sure how to adjust. But she made it easy. Despite her otherworldly presence, she was warm, affectionate, and endlessly kind—to everyone.

In the marketplace, she became a sensation overnight. With a gentle smile and a soothing presence, she helped merchants arrange their goods, guided lost children back to their parents, and sang in the town square, her voice drawing in crowds like a spell.

"Miss Robin, your voice is truly a gift!" one elderly woman praised.

"A gift meant to be shared" Robin replied, bowing gracefully.

And share she did. Her singing eased tensions, made quarrels dissolve into laughter, and even though she didn’t say it outright—influenced dreams. She once mentioned it casually, over breakfast, as if it wasn’t an insanely terrifying ability.

"I see glimpses of their dreams sometimes" she admitted, twirling a spoon in her tea. "A little adjustment here, a comforting presence there… it helps people wake up happier."

You nearly choked. "Wait—you’re controlling dreams?!"

Robin giggled, tilting her head. "Control? No, no, of course not. That sounds so… forceful. I simply guide."

"You have nightmares sometimes, don’t you?" she asked, voice softer. "I could make them go away."

You hesitated. The idea of her wandering into your mind while you slept should have been unsettling. But… when she smiled at you like that, when her voice curled around your ears like a lullaby, it became harder and harder to think of anything other than her.

The incident happened at the market.

A local vendor, a kind, older man who sold fresh fruit, was being harassed by a group of thugs. They knocked over crates, laughing as apples and pears rolled across the dirt.

"Pay up, old man. Don’t think we forgot your debt."

Robin was too far away, speaking with a group of women who had begged for one more song. So you did what any decent person would do.

You stepped in.

"Hey! Leave him alone!"

The leader sneered. "Oh? And what are you gonna do about it?"

You weren’t exactly intimidating, but you held your ground. "Just walk away."

For a second, it seemed like they might. Then, one of them used a knife aimed towards you. You felt blood on your arm. The fruit vendor shouted in alarm.

But then—

A melody cut through the chaos.

"Oh dear," Robin’s voice floated through the air, lilting and amused. "It seems I’ve come at the perfect time."

The thugs froze. Their eyes glazed over as the sound of her song wrapped around them like vines, twisting through their minds, rooting itself deep into their thoughts.

You watched in stunned silence as their expressions slackened. The one who had cut you dropped his knife, eyes unfocused, lips trembling like he was on the verge of tears.

Robin stepped between you and them.

"Now," she purred, tilting her head, "I could tell you to leave, but where would the fun be in that?"

The melody shifted.

The men shuddered.

Without another word, they turned and ran.

"What…?" You blinked at their retreating figures, confused. "How did you—?"

"Are you alright?" Robin cut in as she turned to you. Her gaze flickered to your injured arm, tears are about to fall from her eyes.

"That was reckless of you..." she murmured, stepping closer.

You gave a sheepish laugh, wincing as you pressed a hand to your wound. "I just… I couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

"You’re too kind for your own good."

Her other hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek in a slow motion.

"You should leave these things to me," she whispered. "I’ll always keep you safe."

You smiled at her, relieved. "Thanks, Robin. I don’t know what you did, but… I’m glad you were here."

"Of course. I’ll always be here."

By the time you returned home, the sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky in dusky purples and oranges. The weight of the day clung to your limbs, but somehow, having Robin beside you made everything feel lighter.

"You’re still bleeding, you know" she murmured, glancing at your arm as you stepped inside.

"I’ll clean it up in a bit" you reassured her.

Robin frowned, but didn’t push further. Instead, she turned toward the bathroom, stretching her arms above her head. "Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to freshen up."

You chuckled, watching as she disappeared behind the door.

The sound of water filled the quiet house as Robin bathed. You took the time to bandage your wound, then unpacked the things you had bought earlier—some vegetables, spices, and a small box of decorative hairpins. You had grabbed them on a whim, thinking they’d suit her.

By the time she emerged, steam curling from behind her, Robin looked more ethereal than ever. A towel was draped around her shoulders, her damp silver-blue hair cascading down in loose strands.

"Come here" you gestured, patting the seat in front of you.

Robin raised a brow but complied, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "What are you up to?"

"Your hair. It’s still wet." You reached for a cloth, gently running it through her locks, soaking up the moisture.

At first, she said nothing, only closed her eyes, letting you take care of her. The room was silent except for the soft sound of the towel brushing against her hair. You moved with careful fingers, untangling knots, smoothing out each strand.

"You’re so gentle" she murmured.

You huffed a laugh. "Is that surprising?"

"No. Just… nice."

When her hair was dry, you reached for the brush and slowly ran it through the silken strands, watching the way the light caught in them.

"You have really pretty hair, Robin."

Robin’s eyes fluttered open, tilting her head slightly to glance at you. "You think so?"

"Mhm." You set the brush down, reaching for the box of hairpins. "I, uh… got you these earlier. Thought they’d look nice on you."

Robin blinked in surprise as you opened the box, revealing delicate pins shaped like tiny birds and flowers. For a moment, she simply stared at them, then she let out a soft laughter.

"You’re too sweet, Y/n" she hummed, tilting her head. "Go on, then. Decorate me as you please."

You rolled your eyes at her playful tone but got to work. Carefully, you gathered sections of her hair, twisting them into an elegant half-up style, securing them with the pins. When you were done, you sat back, admiring your work.

"Beautiful."

Robin turned to you, smiling. "Why, thank you."

After taking care of her hair, you moved to the kitchen, determined to cook something nice for her. Robin sat nearby, watching with quiet amusement as you chopped ingredients and stirred the pot.

"You don’t have to do all this for me, you know" she mused, resting her chin on her palm.

"I want to," you replied simply. "You’re always helping others. Let me take care of you for once."

Dinner was warm, filling, and cozy. You ate together, sharing small stories and laughter between bites. But the real fun came afterward.

Robin had been humming absentmindedly, some melody she had sung in the market earlier, when you decided—for some reason—that you wanted to return the favor.

"I should sing for you too" you declared.

Robin perked up immediately, teal eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh? Please, go on. I’d love to hear it."

You hesitated. Bad idea.

But it was too late. Robin was already watching, waiting, anticipation clear on her face.

So, you took a deep breath and started singing.

And—it was bad.

Off-key. Wobbly. Nowhere near the enchanting, ethereal quality of Robin’s voice. But you kept going, determined.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Robin burst into laughter.

"Oh, Y/n.." she gasped between giggles, clutching her stomach. "That was… truly something."

"Hey!" You huffed, throwing a napkin at her.

She caught it easily. "Don’t pout, don’t pout. It was adorable."

Despite her teasing, Robin’s laughter was light, happy. And as embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through your chest at the sound.

As the night stretched on, the two of you stayed like that—talking, laughing, simply existing in each other’s presence.

Morning came. You stretched with a yawn, blinking sleepily as the scent of fresh flowers filled the air. Robin had already woken before you—unsurprising, given her boundless energy.

"Good morning, Y/n" her voice drifted in softly from the other room.

You followed the sound, finding her standing by the small greenhouse extension you had built—just a tiny, sunlit space where you kept the plants you’d been tending for years.

Robin looked ethereal, dressed in soft pastels, her hair still pinned up the way you had styled it the night before. A teacup rested in her delicate hands as she gazed at the plants.

"You take such good care of them"

You chuckled, stepping beside her. "Of course. I’ve had them for a while. Some of these I even grew from seedlings."

Robin’s teal eyes flickered toward you, a small smile gracing her lips. "I see… so they are very dear to you."

"Well, yeah." You knelt down, checking the soil of a small potted rosemary plant. "It’s rewarding, watching them grow. But I guess you’d understand that better than anyone."

Robin hummed, sipping her tea. "Yes… though, unlike them, I can love you back."

You blinked, glancing up at her.

Robin smiled, serene and elegant as always, tilting her head slightly. "Plants do not think. They do not feel. They merely exist, waiting for your touch, your care. But me…"

"I can cherish you properly."

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "They’re just plants, Robin. I don’t love them like I love people."

Robin exhaled, her smile deepening as she reached out and plucked a small petal from one of the flowers. She twirled it between her fingers, watching it spin before it fluttered to the floor.

"Good" she whispered, almost to herself.

The rest of the day passed in quiet, domestic bliss. Robin helped you prepare lunch, her hands moving with practiced grace as she plated the dishes with an elegance that made even simple meals look like fine dining. She never ate much, but she always insisted on tasting anything you made.

"If you’ve prepared it, then it must be worth savoring" she would say, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Afterward, you found yourself lying on the couch, exhausted from the morning’s errands. Robin sat beside you, fingers combing gently through your hair.

"You should rest more" she murmured, her voice a delicate melody. "It’s no wonder you sleep so deeply."

"Mhm… guess I’m just used to staying busy" you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

"Then allow me to lull you."

The familiar hum of her voice. It wrapped around you like silk, smooth and sweet, threading through your consciousness, urging you into the embrace of sleep. You barely resisted. Robin continued stroking your hair, her touch light, careful.

"That’s right," she whispered, almost inaudible. "Just stay close to me. Only me."

You didn’t hear it. You had already slipped into dreams.

That evening, as you stepped back into the greenhouse to water the plants, something felt… off.

A few of the smaller plants were gone.

Not withered. Not rotting. Simply… missing, as if they had never been there at all. The soil remained undisturbed, no signs of pests or animals. The pots that once held their stems sat empty, eerily clean.

"Robin?" you called.

She stepped in behind you, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "Yes?"

You gestured toward the empty pots. "Did you move some of the plants?"

Robin tilted her head, eyes wide with soft curiosity.

"Oh? Were they important?"

"It’s fine. Maybe I forgot I repotted them or something."

Robin smiled, reaching up to adjust one of the hairpins you had given her.

"Yes," she murmured, "perhaps that’s it."

The moment passed. The warmth returned.

And yet, as you continued through the night, laughing with her, cooking for her, letting her tease you over your terrible singing…

The missing plants lingered in the back of your mind.

Like something unseen, waiting in the dark.

That night, you saw her in your dream, you assumed it was simply coincidence.

You stood in a vast garden bathed in moonlight, flowers blooming in unfamiliar yet impossibly beautiful shapes. The air was thick with a gentle fragrance. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of a melody drifted through the stillness.

She stood under a tree heavy with pale blossoms, her hair cascading down while the same hairpins you had gifted her glinting faintly in the glow.

"Oh," she smiled softly, folding her hands in front of her. "You’re here."

Her voice was as delicate as the night breeze, carrying a warmth that made your chest feel light.

"Robin?" you asked, blinking. "Why are you…?"

"It seems your mind has called for me."

"I don’t remember—"

"It does not matter. We are here now, and that is enough, is it not?"

Something about the way she said it made you nod, despite the lingering confusion.

She reached out then, brushing her fingers along your wrist. "You are tired. Let me grant you peace, my dear."

And before you could say anything else, the world melted into warmth.

You awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, heart pounding faintly in your chest. The dream had been so vivid. You could still feel the cool night air, the scent of flowers, the softness of Robin’s voice lingering at the edge of your senses.

"Good morning"

Robin was there, standing by the open window, bathed in morning light. She turned to you with a soft smile, as if she had been waiting for you to wake.

"You seemed to sleep quite deeply," she mused, approaching with measured grace. "I do hope you found rest."

You sat up, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah… I had a strange dream."

Robin tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her teal eyes. "Oh? Do tell."

You hesitated. The memory of the dream was still fresh, yet the more you thought about it, the more distant it seemed—like mist slipping through your fingers.

"It was just… a garden," you muttered. "And you were there."

"How lovely," she murmured. "Perhaps your heart simply longs for me, even in sleep."

She said it so lightly, so effortlessly, that you almost didn’t catch the weight of her words.

You laughed, brushing it off. "You make it sound so dramatic."

Robin chuckled, shaking her head. "I merely speak the truth."

"Regardless," she continued, "I am pleased. You should always rest knowing I am near."

The day passed with a familiar rhythm. Robin accompanied you to the market again, her presence as radiant as ever. She spoke with people kindly, helped an elderly woman carry her wares, and even hummed a tune that made a crying child calm almost instantly.

You watched as stall owners greeted her with warmth, their expressions softening the moment she smiled. It was as if she brought ease wherever she went—like a breeze that smoothed out the rough edges of the world.

But when you glanced at her, you noticed the way her gaze lingered on you.

Not just fond. Something darker.

"Is something the matter?"

You shook your head. "No. Just… watching."

Robin’s lips curled slightly.

"Then please," she murmured, "watch only me."

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #robin x reader #robin hsr #robin honkai star rail #heliosmysplant

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belit0 · 1 year ago

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ahh, i just found out tobirama was about 40 when he became hokage! which makes him even hotter🤭. can you do a hokage tobirama and his young pregnant shy wife meeting his family and like people around the village

I need to EXPLICTLYYYY know where you got that information from bc confirming that he was a daddy brings a different flavor to his character🫠❤️‍🩹

For clarification purposes: Madara is blind in this piece. Hashirama healed Izuna before he died, under Madara's acceptance of peace, and Aniki never took his younger brother's eyes, preferring to go blind rather than steal his sight.

No one dares to look him in the eye, let alone question the possessive hand that won't let go of (Y/N)'s hips. Her belly is too prominent to deny the situation, but no one is used to seeing the current Hokage with his wife.

Senju Tobirama devoted himself to hiding the woman he promised as a bride, unable to tolerate stares at her and unfortunate comments. Both men and women would send lust and desire toward her, and he would have no way to stop them all. What better remedy than to shelter (Y/N) until his ownership is undeniable?

Tobirama can be quite capricious.

The man even went as far as not allowing his own older brother to meet her, Hashirama himself excluded from the equation. To think that the former Hokage could betray his younger brother like that was ridiculous to everyone, but it wasn't about lust with him. No.

Tobirama hid (Y/N) because he refused to lose the one ray of light in his life (after Anija's solar shower, of course). His past is made up of death and disappointment, built as an unfeeling weapon of war by his father, robbed of the ability to empathize with anyone until the creation of Konoha.

His wife brought a peace he didn't know he needed into his life, a breath of fresh air even as nations struggled to not cooperate with peace, freedom among so much horror and suffering. (Y/N) showed him that life could be spent out of survival mode, that he could relax for sleep and accept another person into his bed without danger.

Having found what he always sought without knowing it, Tobirama could not afford to lose it.

Keeping her away from everything and everyone (beyond his possible jealousy) was also composed by the need to protect her, to remove her from the spotlight that inevitably comes with being the Hokage's future wife, to prevent her from being used against him. The albino's attitudes were based on affection, but now that (Y/N) is round with his creation, full of him, he can't help but proudly display her.

He strolls through the market streets with his head held high and his wife tightly in his grip, shooting hostile glances at anyone who looks at them for more than five minutes at a time. Of course he expects people to be surprised, but he doesn't want her to end up with the evil eye either.

"Hokage-Sama! Here, here!" shouts a little old lady from his favorite food stall. He can't ignore people from his village, those who trust him, and comes up to her stall to give her a smile unbecoming of Tobirama. "You look very happy, Hokage-Sama!"

"Ah... how could a man not be, having such a beautiful woman by his side?" And (Y/N) blushes, waving slightly at the little old lady and trying to hide the redness of her cheeks behind the sleeve of her yukata.

The elderly woman smiles, and hands them both a small package of food without accepting anything in return, "here, here, take this, enjoy life!" She practically pushes them out of her stall, and they resume walking to the point they agreed on with Hashirama.

People stare and stare at them, some even dare to congratulate the Hokage, give him blessings, ask if he could feel how many children are there. Some inquiries make him uncomfortable, and with just a blunt look he gets rid of those prying eyes.

They receive more gifts along the way, offerings of love and respect, food and decorations, townspeople declaring their eagerness to meet the Hokage's offspring. Tobirama would not expect to have interacted with so many people in such a short distance, and his social battery is noticeably drained, squeezing (Y/N) more and more protectively against his body.

By the time they reach Hashirama's house, the Hokage no longer wants anything to do with anyone.

"Ayoooooo! Tobi! You made it!" his older brother waits for them sitting at the door, like a little kid waiting for his dad to come home from work. The problem is, Hashirama is not a child, and not little one either. He pounces on the two, wrapping his arms around them and pressing their faces to his chest, invasive and effusive as always but enhanced by (Y/N)'s presence.

"Aaaa! (Y/N)! Finally released from your confinement! It's so beautiful to finally meet you!" Anija lets go of him, only to squeeze her separately, give her kisses on the crown of her head and clench her cheeks like a grandmother. Yes, Hashirama could be compared to a grandmother. "Have you looked... I mean, in there? See what's in there? We could ask Izuna to-"

"No."

"But-"

"No. It's a surprise." Tobirama pulls (Y/N) out of his arms, and hugging her enters the house he knows by heart. He heads straight for the courtyard, where he knows Hashirama (who comes behind him with his head down and feigning sadness) enjoys afternoons of tea.

Of course, he does not expect the surprise his brother has prepared for him there.

The whole clan, the whole damn family is gathered around a huge table, different from the one Anija prefers for his solitary lunches. Sitting in the two main seats, the Uchiha brothers, who have no business in a Senju house, full of Senju men and women.

Is this what peace looks like? Graphically represented? Tobirama wants to vomit.

"TOBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" He is greeted by his entire family as a whole, and the elders soon hover over both of them. Females kidnap (Y/N) to shower her with questions and love, all a carbon copy of how Hashirama behaves but boosted to the tenth.

The albino is also abducted, but by the young men and his older brother, who seems to have regained his cheerfulness. They sit him down in front of the Uchiha brothers, and it's like sending a cow to the slaughter.

"Tobi Tobes... I didn't know your family called you like that, neither that your wife was SO pregnant... He hides too many things from us, right Aniki?" Izuna starts, as usual, not missing a chance to poke him with whatever comes in front of him.

"Hm."

"How many children do you have there? 3? She's... prominent!"

"Get my wife out of your mouth before I make you remember why the war existed in the first place." It's a blunt threat, and the young men around him tense up. Peace is old at this point, but the habits of a life that no longer exists are hard to forget.

"He's joking! Yes, yes, he's kidding! No tobi?" Hashirama tries to disperse the waters, and it works, at least with those who don't know them inside out. Madara knows what's coming, and so does he somehow.

"You want me to see how many are there? With the Sharingan, I mean... it's not like I actually want to get inside-"

"Izuna. Enough." Aniki tries, and succeeds until the albino glares at his little brother.

"Madara... you're blind, but if only could you see the size of that woman's belly..."

"IZUNA!" This time it's Hashirama, who gets indignant every time the Uchiha speaks so lightly about his brother's eye condition. Maybe it's the way they both have of cooperating with the situation, but it's still terrible in his ears.

The Uchiha leader chuckles under his breath, and it's all the validation Izuna needs to go on.

"So, what do you say, Tobi Tobes, want to check it out?" and before he can activate his Dōjutsu, two huge branches stop them both. Tobirama, who was in the process of pulling out a kunai and jumping to his throat, is imprisoned in his seat. Izuna, about to reveal the mystery the couple wanted to keep, has a huge trunk wrapped around his head in the eye area.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too."

"Fuck all of you guys." And everyone turns around in surprise, because this time it's (Y/N) doing the talking. She puts a hand on her husband's shoulder, dodging the wood on him, and gives a pleasant smile to the Uchiha brothers. "We'll find out how many children are here at the time of delivery, for the time being, I appreciate your efforts, Lord Izuna."

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lipglossanon · 3 months ago

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The Old Ways

Leon S. Kennedy x Priestess fem!reader

A little more savory tier commission from the lovely @porcelainseashore 💜 thank you for your patience 😭

Word Count: 2318 🫣

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alternate universe, paganistic practices, animal sacrifice, slight gore, blood, blood sacrifice, bloodletting, predator/prey, sex magick, biting, marking, scratching, rough sex, voyeurism, kissing, unprotected sex, creampie

proofread

Mother Moon wanes in the sky, like the sly grin of a fox. Turning your gaze from her cool light, you continue with your toiling. You gather herbs along with the other village women, whispering chants over the brambles and plants. Tomorrow you welcome the birth of a new moon and winter—and with those, the ceremony of oblation.

The wights of the land clamor for your attention, whispering in your ear of the hunger for blood to be shed. As the priestess, you’ve led many rites to the elder gods. Every full moon a calf is sacrificed at the altar in the center of the village, followed by dancing and merriment. A wooden goblet is filled with its blood and poured upon your nude body, anointing you with its life so you can pass it on to the village.

The women and men are gifted with innate power, dark arts to help keep your community prosperous and safe. These sacred practices have been passed down through the ages, the covenant with the Dark Ones holding fast and true with every new generation. It now falls upon you as the newest priestess to keep up these traditions.

The air is sharp and cold, furs keeping the soft animal of your body warm. Your fingers curl like the gnarled hands of the older women beside you, a fate you hope to see in your future. A few of them catch your eye and nod, solemn gazes and voices when otherwise there would be singing and joy.

Your gaze alights upon a party of the men returning from their traps, various animals thrown over their shoulders or writhing in sacks gripped in their fists. A few of them spot you and nod in respect. As you watch them walk back to the village, you muse that one of these men will partake in the ritual with you tonight. Many of them are a stranger to your eyes, but if it is the will of the ancient ones, then it shall come to pass.

Once enough has been gathered, each of the women rise and follow along the winding path back to the village temple. Fires burn bright and hot in the night, dancing shadows cast upon the men while they skin and flay the carcass of beasts in preparation for tomorrow night.

Entering into the temple last, the other women have formed a circle around the altar. The red-stained surface feels cool under your fingers when you press your own herbs down onto it. Words spill from your lips like wine, an ancient chant of embracing the dark for its sinister gifts. Other voices join, swelling to fill the chamber with their ambiance.

Hands raise in supplication, feet stamp against the cold, earthen floor, and you slice open your palm to rub blood across the runes etched into the stone altar. Once filled, you turn, chanting softly, to paint symbols across each of the women’s faces. They bow their heads and sink to their knees once they’ve been anointed. Before reaching the final woman, a wisp of a boy—straddling the line of manhood—enters the doorway with a plump hare in hand.

He waits until you beckon him forward with blood-coated fingers. Placing the warm animal in your arms, he leaves the temple. The chanting of the women ebbs and flows like the wind in a storm, the sound bolstering and soothing. An elderly woman steps forward and holds the hare against the altar’s face. Pulling out the same blade you used to slice your hand, you wait until the old woman snaps its neck, then you plunge your blade deep in its soft belly.

Lifeblood runs hot and thick across the stone. Each of the village women comes forward to gather the blood, bathing their arms and necks with the dark liquid. You skin the chosen creature, gutting it quickly before the innards grow too cold for use and drop the heart and lungs in a separate wooden bowl. Finished, you pick up the bowl and walk outside to the center of the village. You toss them into the fire with a smattering of herbs gathered earlier.

You shout out an incantation, tossing more herbs and branches into the fire. Voice growing quiet, you bow to the flame, ending the ritual. Everything is now in place for tomorrow’s oblation. A few of the women help you to your home, exhausted as you are from the fervor of performing your duties.

The next morning dawns brightly. You rise along with the burgeoning rays. Dressing for the cold, you join the congregation of people at the temple. The scant time of daylight is spent readying the skins and headpieces for the ceremony. Masks and furs are to be given to those joining, a trickery of confusion to one chosen to Hunt for the priestess. The times when the Hunter has become confused and chosen poorly, the dark gods were unkind, and many perished.

The village elders now choose more carefully lest it happen again. For as long as you’ve been alive, every chase has ended with the priestess caught, ensuring the village is secure until the next ceremony of oblation. The sun begins to set, signifying an end to preparations.

Everyone begins to gather outside the temple. The elders talk amongst themselves, narrowing down who shall become the Hunter—who shall be the one to find you amidst the trickery in the dark of the forest—the one who shall perform the ceremony and satisfy the lust of the ancient ones.

“Leon, come forth.”

A young man with blonde hair and blue eyes is brought forward. His strong arms, offset by scars, signify battles won, someone who must be from the war party. You’ve seen him before, but with his task of being a fighter, he is rarely in the village. This ceremony, however, requires everyone to partake. All of the war parties and hunting parties made the trek back home in time.

A loud cheer goes up when the man accepts the crown of raven’s wings, letting one of the elders anoint his brow with blood before placing it atop his head. He shrugs on the sacred skin of the bear, cutting a formidable figure against the dying sun. You hope he is up to the task. His serious blue eyes seek you out amidst the villagers, nodding in deference once he locks eyes with you.

You join the elders and enter the temple. They strip you of your warmth and paint your body with runes and symbols of the dark gods you worship. Herbs are crushed into a paste and smeared across your belly and breasts. Chants and incantations are murmured while they ready you for the ritual. Dressing you in the coat of a freshly skinned stag, they adorn your brow with a headdress of antlers.

Guiding you from the temple, you join the group of men and women joining the chase, each dressed in skins and masks. Now that you’re ready, they’re off, running into the dark of the forest with you trailing behind. The elders will release the Hunter once they’ve completed the blessings for him. It’s not long before villagers begin to split off.

The chase warms the blood. It’s why this part of the ceremony has lasted the test of time. Warm blood is the preferred offering of your dark gods. The antlers snag on a low branch and keep you in place. You can hear the others running, footfalls muted on the soft, damp earth. It gives them time to distract and escape from the clutches of the Hunter.

The heavy coat of the stag drips against your skin, sticky blood running down your naked body. You finally snap the branch that’s keeping you from moving, feet picking up speed until you’re running through the winding trunks. The silver birches gleam like ghosts in the murky night. You catch fleeting glimpses of other animals—deer, rabbits, a fox or two. Your eyes have yet to see the Hunter, clad in the finest bearskin with a crown of raven’s wings atop his brow.

No matter how cold the night is, the heat of the chase keeps the chill at bay. You’re close to where the ritual needs to take place. This Hunter is smart, corralling you close enough that he can catch you more easily. The elders chose wisely this time. The tree comes into view. A horrible wretch of a thing. Legend tells the screaming face embedded in its onyx-colored bark is the combined souls of those who would do the village harm. Another reason why the covenant with the dark gods is so necessary. Its thorny branches are sharp enough to slice into flesh.

A thick arm bands around your waist, stopping your momentum and sending you stumbling back against a warm, fur-covered chest.

“I’ve caught you, priestess.”

You can see the smoke of Leon’s breath passing by the side of your face. A low humming chant begins deep in the forest, the elders leading the procession of villagers to the site of the ceremony. He manhandles you until he’s pressing your back against the rough bark of the dead, wizened tree. The antlers are tossed from your head onto the ground along with his own crown before he takes your lips in a rough, hungry kiss.

The men and women begin to form a semicircle around the tree, witness to the ritual about to take place. They’re only a minor distraction before Leon rips the stag coat from your body, dropping it at your feet. Skin scraping against the bark makes you hiss in pain, small cuts forming along your back and arms. He kisses you again, parting his own animal skin to bare his naked body.

You pull away and sink your teeth into his shoulder, biting hard enough the tang of blood fills your mouth. He grunts, cock thickening against your leg. Shoving you more firmly against the dead tree, he slots his leg between your thighs, pressing the damp lips of your cunt against the warm skin. Hissing, you rock down against him, pleasure zipping through your body.

The ritual is meant to be bloody and rough, an offering to the dark gods that bay and howl for life. Leon moves to kiss you again at the same time you dip forward to bite his other shoulder. His chin knocks against your cheek, making you shift, arm catching on a thorn-covered branch and slicing open your flesh. Pulling you into his chest, he braces his forearm against your side, the branch cutting into his flesh and preventing it from sinking into yours.

You admire his care; the ancient ones have no preferences whose blood is shed as long as it is human and it is fresh. He kisses across your jaw before sinking his own teeth into your neck at the same time he lifts your leg to wrap around his waist. Your eyes catch sight of the villagers, standing solemnly, watching as Leon and you perform the rite. He brings your attention back when he ruts his cock against the seam of your cunt. Notching the head of his dick at your hole, he bullies his way completely inside, stuffing and stretching your pussy so suddenly you can’t breathe.

He groans like a wounded dog, pulling halfway out before sinking back into your pliant flesh. Your nails scratch and claw at his back, shredding the skin underneath. He retaliates by biting and snarling, teeth maiming your neck and shoulders until it’s a bloody mess. All thoughts of higher thinking are lost to the frenzy. Leon mates you like some rabid animal. You're biting and clawing at each other—blood spilling from your bodies to coat the imposing tree at your back.

At some point, Leon pulls out to spin you around, pressing your stomach and chest against the rough bark. Keening like a bitch in heat, Leon pounds your cunt with hard, powerful thrusts. More cuts open against the soft meat of your belly and breasts, palms scraping against the tree while Leon fucks your pussy into submission. His palm cups above your mound, angling your body back in a way that makes you clamp down around his cock.

Groaning, he keeps up the fast pace—his dick plunging in and out of your wet, dripping hole, the tip grazing something so delicious it’s making your brain light up in ways you’ve never experienced. You can’t stop the noises escaping you, like a stuck pig braying for help. Leon rams into you, cock thick and heavy, stretching you out. A pleasure unlike anything you’ve experienced is overcoming your senses. Your fingers curl into claws, mouth open in a silent scream as something in your brain snaps.

Everything goes silent except the pleasure engulfing your entire being. Time is infinite in this space. Tears streak down your cheeks, eyes open yet unseeing even as Leon buries his cock to the hilt to fill you with his sticky spend. You come to yourself when a heavy fur is draped around your exhausted body.

“Priestess, the ceremony of oblation is complete.”

Turning, you look into a pair of blue eyes.

“Thank you,” you rasp, voice scratchy.

He shifts on his feet, nude body covered with his own animal skin. The various men and women are walking back to the village, preparing the feast that is to follow the ritual. Leon stands next to you, a warm and quiet presence while you gain your bearings once more.

You walk in silence, side by side, through the forest. It’s a companionable feeling, a sense of peace that pervades you. The man beside you coughs lightly.

“Priestess,” he pauses for a breath. “May I dance with you at the fire tonight?”

Heat suffuses your chest, and you smile at him, dried blood flaking from the movement.

“I’d like that, Leon.”

#kofi #kofi commission #fic request #kofi request #commissions #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #fem!reader #priestess!reader

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astroismypassion · 2 years ago

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Astrology observations 🌸🌸🌸

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

🌸If you have Virgo Venus, you could feel like you can have the most rewarding, stable partnerships with people who have a 6th house Synastry with you. If you are Taurus Venus, you could resonate more with 2nd house Synastry. If you have Cancer Venus, you connect best with people you have 4th house Synastry with.

🌸I noticed with Mars in the 12th house Synastry is that the Mars person (who most often has secret feelings for the house person) is more "spiritual" about the connection. They have this "if it's meant to be, it will be" passive approach towards starting the connection.

🌸Venus sextile/trine Neptune in a Synastry chart means that Venus person is easily inspired by the Neptune person, hence being more creative. Meanwhile, Neptune person could have material, financial benefits from Venus person, such as getting more lavish, expensive gifts, free dinner, more clothing etc.

🌸In Synastry, when one person's Saturn is negatively aspecting the other person's North Node, they North Node person can feel like this person is slowing down their life purpose and career. North Node person feels like Saturn person wants them to prioritize them and relationship they have with them (starting a family for example, being more present in the connection) rather than their career goals and life purpose.

🌸If both people end up dating their Saturn sign, they view each other as trophies or like a most prized possession. If you have Pisces Saturn, you could see your partner with Pisces Sun as a trophy.

🌸I'm noticing a pattern that I'm starting to develop in a little theory. Often men who have for example Gemini Sun mum, often go for women who have Gemini Moon in their chart. Or if their mum is Taurus Sun, they pick a woman who has Taurus Moon.

🌸Often times people who have Scorpio over the 4th house tend to overshare and claim they are "an open book", when in reality you don't really know much about them personally or what is happening with them or their life.

🌸People who have Mars in the 9th house LOVE to travel (especially long-distance), but I noticed with them, they at some point have this weird, unique, "rebel" phase when they just rebel against travel and kind of don't want to leave their home or hometown that they are used to.

🌸Libra Moon native can expect a baby with a person that is already married.

🌸You can start feeling like they brought you closer to who you truly are at your core level around the sign over your 8th house. Like you become more you through the connection with this person, not necessarily "lose" yourself in the connection.

🌸 Partners of women who have Virgo Mars always admire their woman’s modesty and how humble they are.

🌸People with Scorpio or Aries over the 4th house might really like the gym, but also kinda dislike themselves for how much take actually enjoy it.

🌸 For fitness motivation always look at the people who share their Sun sign with your Mars sign. For example: if you have Scorpio Mars, you might be really interested in a workout routine of a Scorpio Sun, such as Kendall Jenner. If you have Cancer Mars, you might want Cancer Sun Gisele Bündchen to leak her workout routine. The same goes for if you want to have a personal trainer, it’s best if this person has Sun sign of your Mars sign, because they will be able to motivate you better than others.

🌸 Gemini Juno could have a partner that diets or often does cleanses.

🌸 People who have Neptune Ascendant aspect might view the gym as a sanctuary or like personal therapy.

🌸 Young musicians who have Capricorn Venus make songs that even the elderly like to listen.

🌸 In Synastry Venus opposite Mars can mean that Venus person can act differently at home with their Mars partner versus when they are in the public with them. While Mars person is always their authentic self at all times.

🌸 People who have Cancer or Capricorn over the 8th house could attract a partner that acts like their mother (in case of Cancer over the 8th house) or their father (in the case of Capricorn over the 8th house).

🌸 Pisces Mercury and Neptune aspect Mercury can sometimes be mentally quite lazy or passive. They would rather challenge themselves to do a task, chore physically than mentally. For example, they would rather learn how to skate than learn biology.

🌸Capricorn, Pisces, Aries and Libra Moons are prone to be more emotionally insecure, especially when in a partnership. That's why they need validation on a daily basis or often.

Credit goes to my Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

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yup-thats-me · 2 years ago

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all for you • Gabimaru.

pairing: Gabimaru x wife!reader

synopsis: his wife has given him the best gift of all. a baby ; the reader is pregnant.

warning: pregnancy.

"y/n, let's take you to the village doctor, yeah?" Gabimaru said, stroking the back of his wife lovingly as she threw up.

this was the fourth time this week and it was making Gabi worry about his wife. obviously she's his the only reason to stay alive. it was for her that he made it out alive from Shinsenkyo alive, no matter the dangerous situations he faced. it was all for her. now that she's unwell made his insides churn in fear. if anything happens to her, maybe he'll burn down the entire country.

however, y/n partially knew what the problem was, just a little uncertain.

"Okay...", she spoke slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. she slowly drank the water Gabi gave her. by the help of her husband, she stood up slowly, walking back inside the house to get dressed to visit the doctor.

"do you want me to help you change, y/n?" Gabimaru offered.

it won't be the first time that he'd help his wife get dressed. he had done it a number of times, but this time, y/n turned down his offer.

she smiled at him softly, "I'm quite alright. just be outside ill come in a bit, okay?" She kissed him on the cheek.

Gabi nodded, waiting outside the room, pacing I'm anticipation.

inside the room on the other hand, y/n was already dressed. she stood in front of the mirror, caressing her stomach deliberately. "can it really be true?" She wishpered.

when she came out, Gabi put his hand around her waist, walking slowly. y/n felt weak. every now and then, she held Gabi more tighter as the two walked. finally, the two reached the doctor's place.

"how many days has it been?" the doctor, an elderly woman asked the couple.

the two looked at each other for a second. "this has been going on for more than a week," Gabi replied for y/n.

the woman nodded. "can I talk to y/n alone for a moment?"

Gabimaru shot the woman a suspicious look but nevertheless agreed when y/n squeezed his hand, silently telling him that its alright. again, Gabi stepped out from the room and sat outside.

so many thoughts ran amok his head. what if y/n is terminally ill? or some incurable disease that will take her from him? no. he won't let that happen. even if it was an incurable disease, he'll die with her. no questions asked. and if the disease was curable, he'll do everything in his power to cure back his y/n. he made so many assumptions about y/n's hypothetical diseases, never for once did he think she might be pregnant. he's that thick skinned when it comes to y/n. he forgets to think anything logical when it comes to her.

few minutes later, the two women stepped out the house. Gabi ran to y/n. seeing her smiling made him relax just a bit.

"well? what is it?"

the woman giggled. "I'll leave you two to it. Best of luck", she said going back inside the room leaving the couple alone.

y/n seemed to be avoiding any eye contact with Gabi. "y/n you're making me nervous again. tell me what the problem is!"

"Gabi...you're going to be a father", Y/n replied slowly. she laughed internally as the look on Gabi's face changed from anxious to a confused one. "...huh?"

y/n blushed. "Gabimaru, I am pregnant, woth your child." She spoke nervously. she knew Gabi won't be angry at the news but still she was hesitant.

Gabi stood in his spot not miving even an inch. "Oh my god," He said sitting on the ground. He was too happy to speak. Y/n smiled, kneeling down beside him. "shh...its okay." She hugged her husband as her husband broke down in her hold.

she made Gabi face her, wiping his tears away. "are you okay?"

Gabi smiled at her, hugging her close. "Okay? I'm far more than okay! you've made me the happiest man alive, Y/n!" He laughed, kissing her shortly.

the two also went to the market on their way back,buying sweets and Y/n watched with a smile as her husband gave the sweets tk everyone for the good news. he even fed the stray dogs. he was happy, he wanted the world to celebrate too!

when the two reached home, Y/n was about to enter the kitchen to prepare the dinner, when Gabi stopped her. "And what do you think you're doing?"

Y/n looked at him confused. "We have to have dinner too. you know," She giggled, making Gabi's face tinted with bright red. "Of course I know. but I won't allow you to cook. I'll do it." He said.

"Why, darling? you want to eat something different? tell me and I'll make it. why should you make dinner?"

"No. from now onwards, you can't cook, clean, or do any work. I'll do it all. You and our baby need rest," He said, scratching the back of his head. his statement made y/n giggle. "But anat, I'm just two weeks in. I can still work."

Gabimaru shook his head. "No. I said I'll do all the work. all you have to do is rest. I can't have you working in this condition. I want both my baby and my wife to be healthy," He said caressing your belly. You smiled at him, knowing there's no way of changing his mind now. so you gave up.

as Gabimaru prepared the dinner, so many thoughts came to his mind. family. a family. it was always had been just a word for Gabimaru. he believed he'd never be able to have a family, not a person like him. he was a monster. how can a monster have a family? but then you came along. you healed his scars, made him look at the world differently. it was yiu who taught him that this world is a beautiful place if one knew how to look at it. he is forever greatful to you. he always will be. he prays now, something he'd never ever done. he prays to the Almighty that you'll always stay with him. he promises to love you endlessly, and now that he's soon going to have a baby, he wishes to become the best father that there ever is. he wants to become perfect for you. all for you.

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

#gabimaru #hell's paradise #gabimaru x reader #gabimaru x you #gabimaru x wife!reader #hell's paradise x reader #jigokuraku #jigokuraku x reader #gabimaru x y/n #anime x reader #anime x you #anime x y/n #anime imagine #anime fanfic #fluff #wife!reader #pregnant!wife!reader #gabimaru the hollow

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forgedroyalseal · 2 months ago

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Modern Ranger’s Apprentice Headcanons:

Halt has an ever growing collection of fuzzy, novelty socks because Will is constantly gifting him pairs

Will lives in oversized flannels

Halt is constantly arguing with Alexa and Siri

Will always leaves all the windows open and every night Alyss has to go around the house and close them

Horace has gotten into the habit of carrying around fidget toys for Will, who desperately needs them but can never remember them

Alyss and George are in a book club with a group of elderly women and refuse to let the others join

Horace and Will are part of a D&D group where they play a Barbarian and a Bard

Will spent so much time at his local coffee shop that they just gave him an apron and a name tag. He gets paid in coffee

Halt’s top listened to song is “The Archer” by Taylor Swift

#rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #ra headcanon #headcanons #mondern ra

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year ago

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The King's Last Concubine

AN: Welcome, welcome to the short one-shot that spiralled a little out of control. I’m sure none of you will complain. If you like cheesy historical romance and Bucky then you’ve come to the right place. In all honesty I could have made this story much, much longer, but unfortunately I don’t have the time, so it’s wrapped up a little fast and without as many misunderstandings as the usual Harlequin/Mills and Boon normally contains. I hope you like it anyway.

Beta’d by the lovely @seriouslydex - thank you for your assistance in wrangling this into coherence.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square U1 - Kink: Concubine

Master list | BBB Master list

Summary: When Bucky takes over the throne after his Father’s death, he has better things to deal with than the group of concubines he’s inherited. He thinks the tradition is abhorrent and vows he wants no part of it. When he meets the newest member of the harem he finds his moral stance tested. How can he want the woman who was bought to please his father?

Relationship: King James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Female Concubine Reader

Chapter word count: 10.2k

CW: Historical AU, Flowery historical language, Angst, Servitude, Lust, Male masturbation, Fluff, Miscommunication, Self-loathing, Jealousy, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Sexual Content, Declaration of feelings.

A quiet tension filled the air as you wandered your way around the gardens and corridors of the place you’d called home for the last six months. That’s when you’d been purchased - a gift for the elderly and ailing king, meant to boost his spirits and reignite his youthful zeal. However, all the youth and beauty in the world could not turn back the sands of time.

For the last few weeks the king had been getting weaker, not leaving his private rooms or entertaining any guests apart from his long faithful Queen, his heir, Prince James and his daughter, Princess Rebecca. It was a waiting game now, for the Royal Family, the country, and for you and the other members of the Harem.

Entering the solar, where all of you could spend your days in conversation, needlework, painting and reading, you could see Merith, the King’s favourite in an agitated conversation with Katya, the next concubine down in the pecking order. They had the most to lose when the inevitable happened, because it would be very unlikely that the Prince would wish to keep them around. Not only were they older than him, they had both also borne the King numerous children - it would be very strange for a new King to keep the mothers of his half siblings as concubines for himself. At best, the two women might hope to be housed somewhere pleasant in their retirement, maybe with a semi-wealthy husband. At worst they could be turfed out of the palace along with any of their children that the King hadn’t yet made provisions for.

As for your fate, that was also completely unknown. However, due to your age and the fact that you had only been here a short time, with very few interactions with the King, there was a chance that the Prince would want to keep you. You’d never seen him in the flesh, but you knew he was handsome from the glimpses you’d had of his portrait when you’d been led to and from the King’s chambers on those few occasions he had requested your company. However, despite what you had been purchased for, you had never actually lain with the King. He had tried and, as it was in your best interest, so had you, but the King was old and tired.

Instead you’d provided him with company as best you could, rubbing his back, stroking his hair and reading him stories until he fell asleep and you could call the guards to escort you back to the Little Palace.

Of course, no-one knew what had occurred within the privacy of the King’s chambers, and if other concubines had had similar experiences they didn’t talk of it openly - it wouldn’t do to discuss the failing manhood of the person who held your life in their hands. However, what this meant was that you were still untouched by a man, with no experience other than what you had gifted yourself.

With a sigh, you crossed to the far side of the room, taking your place amongst the other younger and newer members of your unconventional community, picking up the sampler you’d been working on. There was no music being played and all conversations were kept to a minimum and spoken in whispers, out of a combination of respect and anxiety. The limbo dragged on.

Suddenly, the doors to the solar crashed open, and the King’s Equerry walked in, flanked by several guards.

“The King has died,” he announced. “Long live the King.”

The ladies fell into disarray.

“I really have to deal with that now?” Bucky asked of Coulson, his father’s, and now his, Equerry.

“I’m afraid so, your Majesty. It’s been two weeks since the late king passed away and decisions need to be made about those whose services you do not wish to retain. There may be some obvious candidates, but with others you may not know how you feel until you meet them.”

Bucky, now King James, sighed. It hadn’t come as a surprise when his father, King George, had passed away. His various ailments had worsened over the last few months and Bucky had actually felt relief for him at the end. The funeral had been last week and since then he’d been stuck in back to back meetings with the men who were now officially his advisors, sorting out matters of state. Admittedly, the fate of those who resided in the Little Palace hadn’t really occurred to him as important. It was an archaic tradition as far as he was concerned. Servants were one thing, but owning women just so you have a choice about who to fuck without any repercussions, just struck him as something that belonged firmly in the past. He still couldn’t get his head around how his mother had never once complained or commented about the practice - had never flinched when another Royal bastard was presented to the court so his father could make provision for them as he saw fit.

There was no question that any of the women who had provided his father with children - he wasn’t going to call them siblings - would have to be looked after in some way. He wasn’t a monster. The problem would be the others. There were about twenty or so of them, his father collecting them like fine artwork over his years on the throne and a few - and this thought turned Bucky’s stomach a little - were as young as his sister Rebecca. He didn’t feel as though he could just turn them out, however he didn’t want to keep them either. Without some kind of royal approval the women could be ostracised from normal society if their past were to become known, but could he really justify supporting all of them from the Royal purse for the rest of their days? Although, undoubtedly, there would be some noblemen more than happy to have his father’s cast offs as wives, especially as there had been no lack of suitors for their daughters. Those that had offered for them had obviously been hoping it would grant them a modicum more influence at court. Little did they know that wouldn’t be the case with him.

It also didn’t help that while Coulson could understand wanting to remove certain members of the Little Palance, he didn’t understand why the new King didn’t want to ‘get to know’ the rest of them. According to the Equerry, they were all very beautiful, demure, and accomplished, any one of them a suitable companion for lonely evenings. Apparently telling the dour man that if he was that taken with them he should feel free to fornicate with one himself, was not the done thing, but Bucky thought the look on Coulson’s face had been worth it. He’d then tried arguing that the ladies of the Little Palace deserved better than what they currently had, but his personal advisor had brushed the comment aside.

“These women want for nothing, Your Majesty. They sleep in the finest sheets, wear the finest fabrics, and eat the finest foods. Some would say they have a charmed life and what they gave up for it is very little in comparison to what they gain.”

“Fine,” he said with a defeated sigh. “I will at least deal with Merith, Katya and the other few that my dearly departed father put babies into, and maybe speak to the others. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Coulson smiled, obviously thinking that he’d won this round, and Bucky decided not to disabuse him. You have to pick your battles, as his mother was fond of telling him.

This time when the Equerry appeared, a fortnight after the death of King George, he sent nearly all of you out to the gardens, only keeping Merith, Katya and a few other of the ladies inside. It was clear that the women who were mothers to the late King’s bastards were about to find out their fate.

You walked slowly between the roses with your friend, Lila, the concubine who’d been obtained just a few months before you, swapping inconsequential small talk, neither wanting to verbalise what was actually on your minds - to say it out loud would be to court disaster. When the Royal Guards suddenly came outside you all stopped what you were doing, wondering if Master Coulson was going to deliver news to you all as well, but when a different, unexpected man appeared, you all lowered your gazes and dropped into deep curtsies. The King - the new King - was here.

Anxiety rode through you, and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart. You were vaguely aware, from your peripheral vision, that Master Coulson was introducing the King to each member of his harem. You caught snatches of conversation, when the King asked each woman in turn their name and how long they had lived here. When they got to Lila next to you, you heard your friend giggle when the King asked her the same questions and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You liked her, but she was always a little silly. Maybe she thought to flirt her way into the King’s affections?

When the two sets of feet stopped in front of you, you waited for Coulson’s say so before coming out of your curtsey and raising your head.

“And here, Your Majesty, is our newest young lady. You may greet the King, my dear.”

You stood, glad to get out of the deeply uncomfortable pose, and prepared to finally see him in the flesh for the first time.

“Your Highness,” you said, your voice a little more breathy than anticipated, but that was because it had been knocked from your lungs at the vision that greeted you.

King James was tall and broad in the shoulders. It was clear that the painting you had seen had been created when he was still a young man, only just into his adulthood. The man who stood before you now was no stripling. He was fully grown and oozed confidence and authority. His eyes, a cross between pale blue and grey, which had not been adequately portrayed by the Royal artist. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and his jaw exquisitely chiselled, even if it was partially obscured by his facial hair. The hair on his head was short at the sides, but fluffy and slightly untamed on top, just tempting you to run your fingers through it. Now you knew why Lila had giggled.

He took your hand in his, and you marvelled at how large and strong it looked in comparison to your own. You could clearly see the resemblance to his father, but this was a man in the prime of his life and the thought that he would have none of the problems in the bedroom that had beset the late King flashed across your mind, unbidden.

When he asked your name in his deep but clear voice, you had to swallow before you answered so you didn’t stutter like a schoolgirl.

“Master Coulson said you were new. How long have you lived here?”

“Just over six months, Your Majesty.”

“And you like living in the Little Palace?”

You hesitated for a moment, working out the best way to answer. The other’s hadn’t been asked this question. “It’s very pleasant. Thank you for asking Your Majesty.”

His lips, full and pink, twitched, picking up on the diplomacy of your answer. “Only pleasant? Oh dear. Well maybe we can improve upon that in the near future.”

He skillfully removed his hand from yours and turned back to his Equerry, and you returned your gaze to the floor. As he walked away you realised your heart was still beating fast within your chest. However, it was no longer anxiety that made it do so, but rather the newly unfurled bloom of desire.

As soon as Bucky returned to the Palace proper, he dismissed Coulson and headed directly for his private chambers. His time in the Little Palace had mostly gone as well as expected, Meredith and her cohorts fawning over him dramatically in thanks for his generosity and then meeting what seemed like a legion of beautiful, yet dull as dishwater, young women, who his father had acquired to make himself feel young. What he hadn’t been expecting though was that last young lady - he didn’t even want to think about the word concubine and all of the linked meanings it held. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, and it had been clear from the short exchange of pleasantries that you had intelligence and humour to match.

He felt the rolling heat of lust raise its head and desperately tried to push it aside. As unique in his experience as you may be, he shouldn’t - couldn’t - think about you in this way. Not when he knew you’d spent time with his father. It was more than he could bear. But he couldn’t get the image of you from his mind. The curves of your body that deserved to be traced and explored with reverence. Your large, expressive eyes that tempted him to drown in their depths. Your lips that called him to kiss you over and over until you couldn’t speak or even breathe due to how much you wanted him.

Entering his room he shut the door harshly, but he didn’t care. He was unbearably hard within his trousers, and while not a new sensation by any means, it wasn’t one he’d felt in some time. As the Crown Prince he’d had to be circumspect in his affairs,but there was no-one he’d been actively courting. Now he was King the pressure would be on for him to find a suitable wife and start producing heirs. However, he didn’t intend to be like his father. Once he was married he would be faithful and treat his wife with respect. The devil on his shoulder reminded him that he wasn’t married yet and was free to do what he desired, but he tried to push it aside.

Bucky threw himself down on his bed but every time he closed his eyes you were there, hovering behind his eyelids. He palmed himself over his trousers, trying to get some relief from his state of arousal, but it was no good. Almost unconsciously he undid the fastenings, letting out a small sigh as the pressure was lessened, but then it was just too easy to take himself in hand. A few small strokes, just to take the edge off, became harder and longer, and the vision of you behind his closed eyes smiled at him coyly, tempting him to ruin her.

He imagined kissing you and touching you. Tracing every peak and valley with his lips and tongue. He imagined you doing the same to him, taking him in your mouth, lips stretched wide and tears in your perfect eyes. He imagined driving into you, again and again, while you gripped his shoulders and tangled your legs around his waist. Marking you - claiming you - as you called out his name over and over and trembled around him.

Bucky came with a cry, his spend spilling over his hand and stomach, and leaving him with an aching, hollow feeling of disgust with himself. He needed to release you and the rest of the ladies of the Little Palace and there-by banish you from his thoughts.

The next day he put his plan into action. He set Coulson the task of going through the remaining residents, from oldest serving to newest and finding them a new situation. Respectable marriages were the first preference - the Crown could provide a dowry - but failing that independence and a stipend until they became financially solvent on their own. If this plan had the effect that you would be the last to leave, that was just an unfortunate by-product of the most logical way of sorting the whole thing out, wasn’t it?

The edict by the King that the Little Palace was being disbanded was met at first with some trepidation. The women were all of a flutter, wondering what it would mean for them, but when Marie, the most senior of the concubines now that Merith and the others who had children had retired, was informed that, should she approve him, a husband had been found for her, any anxiety morphed into jubilation. Over the coming weeks, the number of you dwindled and you couldn’t help but feel a little lost amongst all the celebration. You were a strange sisterhood, that was certain, and you hadn’t gotten along with everyone, but you wished them well with a smile, and mulled over your sense of unease in private.

You weren’t sure what it was that was making you worried. It wasn’t as though you’d be forced into anything you didn’t want. Letitia had rejected three potential husbands before settling on a fourth, much to Master Coulson’s despair, and Tiffany had outright declared she wanted no husband at all, her and Dana wishing to set up house together and start a school. This came as no surprise to any of you.

It also wasn’t because you were so entrenched in this life that the thought of anything else was scary - you’d had more life outside these walls than in it - however you had found a camaraderie here, a sense of belonging, as strange as that may seem, that you hadn’t had before. And despite the fact that the idea of being intimate with the old King had been stomach churning, once he realised each time that it wasn’t going to happen, you’d found you’d enjoyed providing him comfort and some sort of friendship. Maybe being here had spoiled you? You’d admit it wasn’t a hardship to live somewhere where all your meals and clothes were provided and all you had to do was entertain yourself unless your services were required, although you did wish for more sometimes - a cage was still a cage, no matter how gilded and glittered.

Maybe having a husband wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully he’d let you have some freedom - have some hobby or interest to keep you occupied, other than keeping house and popping out babies. You couldn’t help but be nervous though, especially as the numbers of you lessened until it was just you and Lila left.

Each time one of the ladies was preparing to leave, the King would come and thank her for her service. How any of you managed to keep a straight face when he said that was beyond you, but it did give you the chance to watch him unobserved. He really was handsome, and seemed so kind and earnest in his thanks. A true King and diplomat. But that wasn’t all he was. Every so often he would catch your eye and you would feel… something. And you couldn’t explain what it was, other than that you felt like a moth captivated by a flame, longing to get nearer and nearer, even if it would mean your doom. It wasn’t just physical, either - although you couldn’t deny that you’d had thoughts about that. You wanted to get to know him. The real him. His hopes and dreams. What motivated him.

You got your chance when you were sitting in the solar, enjoying the sun that streamed through the windows as you read your book. Lila was outside in the garden, taking a walk with her potential fiancee, a man named Lang who was apparently some minor aristocracy. Guards trailed them at a discrete distance, but you didn’t think there was anything to worry about. From the glimpses you’d caught of them, Master Lang appeared to be a convivial and respectful fellow. He walked with his hands behind his back, not trying to touch or grab at your friend, but he leant in close to talk intimately. He also appeared to be letting Lila hold an equal part of the conversation and you watched as she giggled behind her hand at a number of points in response to what you guessed were jokes.

“They appear to be getting on well.”

A voice from behind you, made you jump and turn in your chair. At the realisation that King James was standing there, you leapt up and then immediately leant forward into a deep curtsey.

“Your Majesty.”

How had you not noticed him enter? Why was he here?

“Please stand. There’s only the two of us here. I wanted to see for myself how Master Lang was comporting himself and this seemed like the best place to watch unobserved.”

He walked closer to the window and you continued to stand, your hands clasping each other, as you watched him from under your lowered lashes. Despite the number of times you’d seen him recently you were no less dazed by his beauty than you had been the first time. You allowed your gaze to travel over his body, admiring the way his clothes were cut to show off his defined figure. Silver threads were woven through the black fabric of his coat and they shimmered in the sunlight. You itched to smooth the cloth over the broadness of his shoulders.

As if sensing you watching him, the King turned back to you.

“Please don’t let me disturb you from whatever you were doing. Pretend that I’m not here.”

Your lips twitched. “That would be difficult, Your Majesty. You do stand out.” You gestured to the walls of the solar, a pale pink colour, and then at his attire. He looked down at himself and you were taken aback by the flush that made its way to his cheeks.

“Aah, yes. I see what you mean.” He moved away from the window then, and toward the chair opposite the one you’d been occupying when he’d surprised you. “Maybe then we could sit and talk for a while? What have you been doing with your days these last weeks?”

You gave him a small nod and took your seat. “Very little, Your Majesty, other than helping the others pack up their belongings as they leave. Some reading, some needlework. I have been practising my languages too. What have you been doing? Important affairs of state I would imagine.”

“It is not nearly as glamorous as people think. Lots of meetings that seem to stretch on forever, but that is nothing to the never-ending paperwork. I swear everyone in the country will have my signature soon. Lots of time to relax and do what you will, seems wonderful to me. I admit to being a little envious.” He smiled as he spoke, his face lighting up in boyish amusement.

“I assure you,” you stated, “that after a while even relaxing becomes as dull as any paperwork.”

The King chuckled at that. “Does it now? I’ll have to take your word for it. Now, tell me, what languages do you speak?”

“French and Spanish. A little Portuguese. And I’m trying to improve my Greek.” You lifted up your book to show him the writing on the front. He smiled at you and your heart beat faster.

“Impressive, my lady. My Greek is somewhat rusty, although my Russian is still good. Come, read for me and we shall see if I can follow you.”

Feeling shy, you lifted your book and began, haltingly at first, to read out loud, your tongue trying to wrap around the unfamiliar syllables. It had been a while since you had spoken out loud, normally preferring just to read, but as you became more confident the words flowed easier and you managed to glance up at him now and again.

The King was sitting, relaxed in his chair, legs outstretched with his ankles crossed. His eyes were closed as he rested his head on the chair back, arms settled on his chest with his fingers steepled. For a moment you could almost pretend this was a domestic scene of a wife reading to her husband after a long day. However, you were not his wife and he was not destined to be your husband. That would be someone else.

When you reached the end of your chapter, you gently closed your book, placing it on the side table, and the King opened his eyes and sat up again.

“You have a wonderful reading voice and you navigated the words very well - better than I’d have done, I’m sure. I’ve always thought learning languages a worthwhile endeavour and it is my deepest regret that I do not know more. I’ll take note to ensure that my Equerry looks to place you in a situation where your skills will be appreciated. I have a feeling,” he said with a glance back towards the window where his friend was still busy gently wooing yours, “that you will soon be the only one here.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment. “That would be greatly appreciated, Your Majesty. I know that not all men wish for an intelligent wife, but it would be nice to not have to appear vapid just to gain favour with my spouse.”

King James snorted. “I’ll admit that I do not understand those who only wish for a doll for a wife. If you’re going to spend the rest of your days together, would it not be better to have someone to converse with. Someone to challenge you mentally. It would be rather dull otherwise.”

“I suppose,” you ventured, “that those men are probably the type to find other ways - other people - to keep them occupied.” A small smile crept across his lips at your statement.

“And I suppose you are correct, my lady. But if that is the case then those men have chosen poorly. I cannot imagine marrying someone, only to then spend all my free time avoiding them. Somewhat defeats the point of it all, in my opinion.”

“Well, I had guessed some of that about you, Your Majesty. What with you getting rid of this age-old tradition.” You gestured once again to the room around you but when you turned back to him, it was to see that the King’s eyes had narrowed slightly, studying you.

“And how do you feel about that?”

You sensed his words were a test and you licked your lips nervously before you answered.

“I have no real opinion, Sire. I live to serve and am happy to do what my King commands of me.”

There was a strange look on his face. He was no longer smiling and while he didn’t appear angry with you, his demeanor was now far more chilly than it had been a moment ago.

“And were you happy to carry out the commands of my late father?”

You hesitated before answering. “His Royal Highness was most kind to me. I was happy to serve him.”

You barely heard him mutter “I bet you were” under his breath before he suddenly stood, and you scrambled to your feet after him.

“This has been an illuminating chat, my lady, and I thank you for your company. Soon you will be free of this place and can put this part of your life behind you.”

He nodded his head and once again you dropped into a deep curtsey, your eyes locked to the floor. You stayed that way as his footsteps retreated across the marble floor and you wondered what it was you had said that had turned him so cold.

Once again, Bucky found himself stalking into the sanctuary of his private chambers. Damn you, damn his father, and damn this ridiculous fascination of his. Whilst he’d tried to tell himself that the only reason he went to the Little Palace was to get a feeling for whether his friend was getting along with his potential betrothed, he also couldn’t deny the fact that he’d known you would be there as well, all alone.

He’d been enjoying your conversation until he’d been reminded why you were even there in the first place and sabotaged himself by bringing up his father. Then you’d all but admitted that you’d enjoyed doing what you did. Bucky felt sick at the thought.

Images of you tortured him day and night, and spending time with you today had obviously been ill-advised because now he had more memories to draw on. The way you spoke so passionately and knowledgeably about the ways of the world. The way that you smiled and joked when you were relaxed.

Bucky’s fingers longed to pick up a charcoal and try to capture the way the sunlight had slid over the planes of your face, giving you an ethereal, other-worldly look, like some fae creature sent to enrapture him. Instead he tugged on the bell-pull, asking the page who appeared to go and fetch Coulson. He then paced up and down the room, chewing on his thumb nail for the few minutes it took the Equerry to appear.

“How can I serve you, Your Majesty?” Coulson asked with a low bow.

“I want the matters with Lang organised as soon as possible and the remaining occupant of the Little Palace resituated with all speed. It’s high-time this issue was finished, once and for all.

It had been a week since Lila left. A week in which you’d spent nearly every waking moment alone, other than when the servants were helping you dress and bringing you food. Although you mustn’t forget the omni-present guards stationed outside various doors. Which meant it was two weeks since the conversation with the King that had left you feeling more confused than ever.

Lila had returned from her sojourn around the garden gushing about Master Lang and his attributes. About how handsome and kind and funny he was, and how certain she was that they would suit. You plastered a smile to your face and said all the right things, but you couldn’t seem to concentrate on your friend’s happiness, your thoughts consumed by the memory of how the King’s face had looked at the end of your exchange.

He’d been so happy and relaxed, then suddenly so cold and closed. It was obviously no secret that he didn’t like the fact that his father had had concubines, but it had happened and to deny why you were living there would be foolish. Which is why you’d answered so diplomatically - he didn’t need to know what did or didn’t happen in the privacy of the late King’s chambers, and he probably didn’t want to know. What son would want those details? But he had asked a question and you’d answered the best way you knew how.

It hurt because you’d actually been enjoying yourself, and thought that maybe he’d been enjoying himself as well. There’d been a strange warmth inside you as the pair of you had talked and teased and joked, and over the last few days you found yourself wishing you could feel it again.

However, now you had something else to occupy your mind. Almost as soon as Lila had left to get married - and you were sad you couldn’t be with her on her big day - Master Coulson had come to tell you that arrangements were being made at pace for your own future. It was only mildly surprising then, when he’d come to you this morning to tell you that a potential husband had been found and you should prepare yourself to have dinner this evening. He passed you over some papers, giving you details of the man you were to meet.

Apparently he was a Baron, a widower, and a few years older than King James. His seat was on the other side of the country and apparently quite large, with the main house boasting stables, a library, and a formal rose garden. As you read through the information you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. It all looked good on paper, but you needed to be sure. You didn’t want to swap one cage for another - you had to at least like Baron Zemo, and him you. It seemed as though he spoke numerous languages, so at least you had one thing in common with him. Hopefully all would go well, and you could consign this place and thoughts of the King to the past.

A few hours later and you were putting the finishing touches to your toilette. You dabbed some rosewater behind your ears and smoothed your hands down the front of your gown. It was one of your favourites and you’d worn it every time you’d been to visit the late King. He’d always complimented it, saying that the colour of the silk brought out your eyes. You hoped the Baron would like it as well. With a gentle knock on the door, one of the servants let you know that your guest had arrived and was waiting for you in the solar. You took a deep breath and walked down the hall.

As you entered, you saw a man, dressed in deep purple, looking out of the window, with his back to you.

“Baron Zemo, you are most welcome,” you said as you dropped into a curtsey. You heard him turn and then a be-ringed hand appeared in front of your eyes, offering to help you back to your feet.

“Thank you for having me here, my lady,” he replied as you stood. “I have been intrigued to meet you ever since the King wrote to me about your situation.”

You took in his features as he smiled gently at you. He had warm hazel eyes, straight, mid-brown hair that lay across his brow, and was clean shaven. He was slightly taller than you, but not by much and you pushed away the rogue thought about how King James virtually towered over you.

“Shall we sit and dine, and hopefully get to know one another better, sir?” you suggested.

“You’ve read my mind, my dear. There is nothing like good food, good wine, and good conversation, is there?” The Baron walked you over to the small dining table that had been set up and assisted you into your seat, and you felt like a grand lady.

The next two hours passed by amenably. The Baron was eloquent and charming, and when he found out that you spoke other languages he insisted on conversing with you in them, gently correcting your pronunciation and helping you when a particular word or phrase was outside your knowledge. At the end of the meal you were full, warm and a little tipsy from the wine - it wasn’t in your nature to imbibe often.

“Maybe,” Zemo suggested, “we should take a turn about the gardens? A walk in the cool night air would probably help aid digestion. What do you think, my lady?”

“I think that would be delightful.” You allowed him to help you with your chair once more and when you stumbled he linked your arm into his and walked you outside, away from the guards and servants who’d been present in the solar with you.

The garden was illuminated with lanterns in addition to the lights from the solar, and the pair of you walked companionably along the pathways. So far he’d done nothing to worry you, and hadn’t been at all standoffish. You would have to give serious thought into accepting his suit, especially as you were unlikely to receive better. The problem with being the last to be situated was that it also meant that your options for a suitable marriage were narrower.

“You’re awfully quiet, my dear. What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” You ducked your head at the compliment and couldn’t help but smile.

“In all honesty, my lord? I was thinking about how lovely this evening has been. I will admit to some trepidation, which I’m sure you can forgive me for. Things like this are all too new for me.”

“No forgiveness needed,” he said with a smile, one much wider than those he’d displayed earlier and you felt your heart pick up in your chest, although you couldn’t immediately say why. “It’s completely understandable. But can I say that you have vastly surpassed my expectations. The information given to me about you greatly downplayed your beauty and intelligence. And, if I may be so bold, I find myself captivated.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but you also felt a little uncomfortable, at his zealousness. Or maybe it was the wine? “That is kind of you to say, sir. However, I’m finding myself getting a little chilled. Maybe we should return inside?”

With a swiftness that startled you, the Baron took hold of your shoulders and steered you backwards until you came into contact with the wall. You gasped in shock at both the impact and his change in demeanour.

“Maybe I can find a way to warm you up?” He quipped before his lips came down onto yours, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and one hand falling to your leg, inching your skirts upwards. You tore your mouth from his and turned your head, but his lips just zeroed in on your throat instead, sucking and nipping.

“Sir! Get off me!” You tried to push him, but his bulk had you pinned. His questing hand breached the hem of your skirts and he started to grope at your thigh, and his lips trailed further down to the neckline of your dress. “I said get off!”

The Baron raised his head and stilled his hand, but didn’t move away. “Surely you must miss this? The touch of a man. And think how much better it will be with someone who is younger and knows how to please a woman.”

“I miss it less than you think,” you ground out between clenched teeth. “And I did not ask you for this. Let me go.”

He smiled predatorily and slid his hand up to cup your mound over your underwear. “Did you really think I would offer for you without seeing if you had all the necessary attributes I’m looking for. I need an heir, and intelligence and beauty can’t provide that. And let’s face it, it’s not as though you’re a missish virgin keeping herself pure for her wedding night.”

His hand started to tug at your underthings and you closed your eyes tight as fear started to take over. However, just as you felt the first touch of his fingers on your intimate flesh his weight was suddenly gone.

“I believe the lady said no, Baron Zemo.”

Your eyes shot open, and there was King James, standing between you and the Baron, who was now sprawled on the ground. The dim light of the lanterns partially lit his face and that, combined with his expression, made him look like an avenging angel. Then he turned towards you and his expression softened.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Without the Baron’s hands on you, your skirts fell back to your ankles and you pushed yourself away from the wall to stand.

You nodded and gave a little cough to clear your throat. “I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

The Baron scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust and gravel from his coat.

“Just a little misunderstanding between my fianceé and myself, Your Majesty. No harm done,” he said, his voice smooth and oily.

You took a step forward, your body trembling with anger. “I don’t believe that I’ve accepted your suit, sir. And after that display of ungentlemanly conduct I am now fully disinclined to do so.”

The Baron’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing and he let his facade fully drop away. “Be quiet, whore. Who else would have you? You’re used goods, even if the one who did the using was the former King. You should be grateful I’m even considering you.”

You shifted, intending to step forward again and slap him, but the King held out his hand stopping you.

“You are out of line, Baron. No matter her history, the lady is still just that. A lady. And how you treat her is tells me that, despite your title, you are no gentleman.” His voice was steady, but you could pick up the undercurrent of rage - could see it in the way he was holding himself and the tick in his jaw.

Baron Zemo let out a bark of laughter, apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. “My dear James, I cannot believe how much you are defending one of your fathers handmaidens. She was obtained by him for one purpose, but you think it’s unreasonable for me to see if she lives up to that purpose before I marry her.” He peered at the King, then his eyes widened as though he’d made a startling revelation. “Do I sense some jealousy raising its head here?” He laughed again. “I should have realised there was a reason you kept her until last. Of course - she’s your whore as…”

He didn’t get to finish his vile words, because King James’ arm snapped out and he punched the Baron right on the jaw, then watched impassively as the man crumpled back to the ground. Then, just as suddenly, he turned towards you fully and without a word scooped you up into his arms. You squeaked and threw your arms around his neck as he walked briskly back towards the solar. As he made his way inside, the guards stood to attention but didn’t turn to look at you, however, you still hid your face in his neck from embarrassment.

“There’s some filth in the garden to be sent packing.” The King’s voice rumbled in your ear as he spoke to the guards, and then he was turning with you in his arms and striding down the corridor that led to the private chambers.

“Which one?” he asked gruffly, and you uncurled from his chest slightly so you could point. He shouldered your door open and then kicked it shut before letting you down, your body sliding over his as he did so.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and heart racing, not even noticing that your hands still rested on the slope of his chest and that his hands were still on your waist.

“You’re sure you're alright?” he queried again, looking down at you with concern.

“Absolutely. You stopped him. You…” You started to shake then as you realised how close you’d come to real harm. Without a word, the king steered you over to the edge of your bed and you both sat down, your small hands held in his larger ones, one of his thumbs rubbing over the delicate skin near your knuckles.

“Just breathe, my lady. You’ve had a shock. I’m glad I was there…” he stopped mid-sentence and freed one of his hands to turn your head and bare your neck to him. You swore you heard him growl. “He marked you. I’m going to kill him.”

You took hold of his wrist and pulled it down so you could turn back to face him. “It’s nothing. Really. It will fade and in a few days it’ll be a memory. Then we can try again.”

He peered at you, confused.

“Try and find me a husband,” you clarified and then smiled in an effort to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

“No.” King James pulled himself away sharply and stood, his back to you.

Now you were the one who was confused. “What do you mean,’No’? ‘No’ to a few days or ‘No’ to a husband? I don’t understand.”

“Either. Both,” he snapped, still not turning around.

“Alright,” you replied. “We’ll find me somewhere to live, then. Discuss a suitable stipend amount like Master Coulson did with some of the others who refused a husband.”

“Not that, either.” He ground the words out and you felt your patience waning, frustration overtaking your confusion. You stood up and stepped closer.

“So no husband and no stipend. What are you suggesting? That I just leave?” You couldn’t keep the hysterical note from your voice.

He spun on his heel and moved into your personal space, just as the Baron had done only a few minutes ago. However you didn’t feel anxious or uncomfortable, and the warm feeling inside you was back, despite your anger at how contrary he was being.

“Not at all,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on you.

On your face.

On your lips.

“I thought you wanted me out of here. You don’t want any concubines, remember?” You arched your eyebrow, challenging him.

He leant forwards and your breath caught in your throat, his stormy eyes now all you could see.

“I still don’t,” he murmured and then pressed his lips to yours.

This kiss was entirely different to the Baron’s assault. It was soft and gentle. Coaxing, not claiming. The King’s hands came up to cup your face and you curled your own into the front of his jacket. The heat within you rose in intensity and you kissed him back, opening your mouth and letting him in. He moaned when you did, one hand sliding to your hair and the other to the small of your back, pulling you close to him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, but it didn’t scare you. In fact it thrilled you. It was all the deepest thoughts you’d kept to yourself come to life, and they took you over.

Your nimble fingers worked the buttons of his jacket and as they came undone the King let go of you to shuck it off. That was followed quickly by his cravat and waistcoat, thrown without care across your room, and then he pulled his shirt free of his trousers and toed off his shoes. He took you back in his embrace then, kissing you with more passion and your hands found their way under his shirt, stroking across the hard planes of his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in retaliation and you gasped as the brief stinging shot to your core.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed into your mouth.

“I do,” you whispered back. You’d never been as sure of anything as you were now - consequences be damned. They were a problem for tomorrow.

Part of Bucky couldn’t believe what he was doing, because he really shouldn’t be doing it. He was a King and should be the better person. But, oh, how he wanted to be selfish for once and slake this longing he had for you.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming to see how you and the Baron were getting on, partially to assuage his guilt and partially to torture himself. When he’d found you both absent from the solar, one of the guards had told him you’d gone for a walk together. As he’d stepped outside and neither of you had been in the closer part of the garden a sense of unease had washed over him. Then he’d heard you shout and raced around a corner to see you pushing at the Baron as he held you against the wall, trying to violate you.

He’d barely been able to restrain himself when he saw that, only daring to separate you and check that you were alright. But then the Baron had started to spew his hurtful, cruel words and his resolve had crumbled. He’d had to make sure you were safe. He’d needed it like air.

Upon getting you inside, he’d told himself that he would just double check that you were alright and then leave, but then he’d seen the bruise on your neck and you’d tried to placate him with talk of trying to find a new suitor and he’d lost any sense of decorum.

There would be no other husband, no grand house and pension, because you were his. You were his oxygen - his sunlight. His joy and his misery and his desire all rolled into one. So he’d kissed you, almost no better than the Baron, but then you’d kissed him back. Clung to him. You’d made it plain that you wanted him too, first with your actions and then your words.

Mentally calling himself a fool, Bucky spun you around and tugged at the closure of your dress, the multitude of tiny buttons that held it together flying across the room. He didn’t care, though. He could buy you a new dress. A thousand new dresses. He eased the open neckline over your shoulders and pushed the multiple layers of silk down your frame. Taking your hand, he helped you step out of the froth of fabric and you kicked off your slippers at the same time with a giggle that shot through him like a bolt of lightning.

Bucky pulled you back to him with a groan and walked you towards the bed, laughing with you when you both tumbled onto it with a bounce. Your hands, so small and delicate, found his chest again, and he lent up and pulled his shirt over his head, watching you as your eyes darkened with desire as you took in what you saw. You traced your fingers over the definition of his abdominals and pectorals and Bucky shivered.

“I want you, Your Majesty.” Your voice was low and breathy, and fuck did he just want to bury himself in you. Feast on you.

“Bucky,” he rasped. “Call me Bucky. There is no King here tonight.”

You came back together, kissing and touching and through it you both messily and awkwardly helped each other remove the rest of the clothes that separated you. As soon as your breasts were bared to him, Bucky couldn’t hold back, latching onto your puckered nipples, one after the other, drawing squeaks and moans from you, more intoxicating than any sounds he’d imagined in his private imaginings.

His right hand skirted down your body, finding its way between your legs and you opened for him. He moaned around breast as he found your wetness and began to toy with you. Bucky teased your clit and stroked your folds, captivated by how more arousal spilled from you. When he slid a testing finger into you, you gripped his hair and arched into his hand, your soft mewl turning to a strangled gasp and he felt undeniably powerful, a small part of him, one he didn’t want to really acknowledge, feeling as though he was competing with the memory of his father. He was determined to erase it. After tonight there would only be him.

When Bucky added a second finger into your warm channel and circled his thumb on your clit, you whimpered his name. Not ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Sire’, but ‘Bucky’ as he’d asked you. He lifted his head and rose back up your body, capturing your lips and swallowing your cries as he drove you higher and higher. Your hands now clutched his shoulders, your short, manicured nails digging into him, using him as an anchor, lest you float away into the ether. He felt your body quiver beneath him as you neared the precipice of your pleasure and then the next second you were tumbling over it, your body spasming around his fingers, your mouth drawing all the oxygen from his lungs into your own.

Bucky kissed you through it, slowing his hand before pulling it away slowly. He shifted on the bed, kneeling between your limp legs, and as you watched him with hooded, lust filled eyes, he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted your essence. He groaned as he did so, promising himself that he would drink directly from your source soon, but he couldn’t hold back his desire to fully claim you any longer.

As his hand dropped to his cock, your eyes followed it, and you took your first real look at him. He couldn’t help but smile as your eyes widened and you tentatively raised your own hand towards his erection. He took hold of it and wrapped it around his length, marvelling at how your fingers didn’t meet. Your gaze flicked between his face and his cock, unsure which you wanted to watch. However, after a few minutes it was too torturous, and he repositioned himself to kiss you again and run his cock between your wet folds. Your hips rolled beneath him as you let out small whimpers of need and desire and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Bucky reached between you, lined himself up and sank into your warmth.

The cry of ecstasy you let out caught him by surprise and he looked down into your eyes. The truth shone out of them as you pulled in breath after ragged breath, your body struggling to adjust to his size, despite what he’d done to you only minutes before. He couldn’t really process it, but an animalistic part of him howled in pleasure at the realisation that you’d been untouched and consumed any remaining restraint.

Bucky snapped his hips, watching in awe as your eyes rolled in your head and the breath was pushed from your lungs. It was an addictive sight and he thrust into you again and again, unable to stop, needing to see your reaction. You clutched his biceps as he braced himself, your head thrown back and he never wanted to see you any other way - debauched and ruined on his cock.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?”

You mumbled incoherently but did as he’d asked, your hand moving between you, and Bucky knew when you’d found your centre from the way you clenched around him. He groaned at the sensation and let it spur him on. He dipped his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts and when you let out a wail he knew he’d found the right spot.

“That’s it, beautiful. Come apart for me. Come on my cock.”

You screamed and spasmed around him and his rational brain knew he should pull out and spill himself over the sheets, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not have this. He cried out, throwing back his own head, and surrendered to the inevitable.

It took you a while to come back to yourself, because what you’d just experience was so different from what you’d been told about. The King - Bucky - was cuddled up behind you, his arms holding you close and his nose pressed into your hair, dozing. You turned in his embrace and his long, dark eyelashes fluttered open.

“Hi,” you breathed cautiously, unsure of how you should be acting. However, when he softly smiled at you, you felt your heart leap inside your chest.

“Hello, yourself.” He dropped a gentle kiss to your lips and you smiled in return and relaxed. He was obviously content to stay in your private, intimate bubble for at least a short time more and you were more than happy to indulge him. You didn’t want to think about how you’d feel when this ended, it would hurt too much.

Pushing yourself up onto one elbow you looked down at him and idly traced invisible designs across his chest with your finger tip.

“So, Bucky, huh? Where does that come from?”

He chuckled at your teasing tone. “From my sister, Princess Rebecca. Or as I call her, Becca-Boo or Sprout. My second name is Buchanan, and when she was learning to talk she couldn’t say it. Whenever she said ‘Bucky’ it would make me laugh, so she kept doing it and then refused to call me anything else. Then my mother picked it up, because if she called me James, Becca would stamp her foot and tell her off. And I liked it. It helped me separate the two parts of myself - Bucky, the normal man with normal wants, desires and hobbies etcetera, and James, heir to the throne, with duties and responsibilities who has to keep himself apart from those around him.”

There was a melancholy tone to his words, and you couldn’t help but bend down and press a light kiss to his lips. “Well I like Bucky.”

He brought his hand up to the nape of your neck, returning the kiss, and you wished that reality could just stay firmly outside for the rest of time.

When Bucky broke the kiss, he looked up at you with searching eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly and you immediately knew what he was talking about. You shrugged one shoulder.

“Does it matter? Would it have changed what just happened between us? Would you have thought differently of me?”

“No, it wouldn’t have changed what just happened, but I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t have treated you differently. I thought harshly of you, driven by jealousy. How could I allow myself to like you, desire you, when you had lain with my father? I was jealous of a ghost for having claimed you first, and I hated myself for feeling that way. That was why I acted coldly to you when we conversed in the solar. What you said. You made it sound as if you’d enjoyed being with him and ugly thoughts filled my head.” Bucky’s brow furrowed as he spoke and you itched to smooth out the lines that formed there.

“Well, it isn’t really the done thing to speak out loud about the King’s impotence,” you pointed out. “Especially with his own son. I was trying to answer truthfully, but without going into detail. And I suppose I did enjoy spending time with him. He may not have been the type of father you wished, or the husband your mother wanted, but he was still a man. We’d talk, mostly. I like to think that I gave him some comfort and companionship. I can’t say that I’m unhappy about the way things turned out.” You looked at him coyly from under your lashes and he laughed.

“You liked being claimed by me? You wanton wretch,” he teased.

“It was definitely different, and much better, than what I’d been led to believe.” He growled playfully, and in one deft move rose up and pushed you back to the mattress, caging you in with his arms. You brought your hand up and brushed the back of it over his cheek. “If I’m going to be a concubine, I’m glad that I’m yours.”

At your words, Bucky reared back, as if you’d slapped him and you immediately started to apologise. “I’m sorry, Sire. I shouldn’t have presumed…” Shame and guilt washed over you at how far you’d sunk into your daydream, and you fought your way out of the sheets. Rising from the bed, you found your shift in the heap of clothing on the floor and pulled it over your head. “I will leave you to your dressing and wait for instructions from Master Coulson later.” You bobbed a curtsey and turned toward the door, your hand reaching for the handle, eager to put space between you.

“Stop!” His command made you freeze mid step, your arm lowering back to your side. In a moment he was behind you, his hands firmly gripping your upper arms.

“You are not my concubine. I never wanted one, and I won’t start now.” He spun you, and when you didn’t raise your head, staring instead at a freckle near his collarbone, he tucked a finger under your chin and made you look at him. “You deserve more than that, my darling.” His tone softened. “You will be my wife. That is, if you will have me?”

You looked at him in shock. “What? How can I be your wife? You are the King and I am, well, just me.”

“And as the King, I can do what I want. And for anyone who gets pedantic about your previous status, there is precedent. Concubines have been turned into Queens before.”

You pulled yourself from his hold, raising your arms up in confusion. “You do not need to speak of marriage, just because you have bedded me and do not want a concubine.”

“This is not solely because we have lain together, sweet fool. I love you.”

His words made you stop and you wondered if you’d misheard, but he continued.

“I fear I have done since I first laid eyes on you. And I just hope that maybe you can learn to love me too. Bucky, that is. Not just James, your King.” He reached out imploringly toward you. You looked back at him and then at his hand, before accepting it as you stepped forward, a broad smile making its way across your face.

“Learn to love you? That implies that I don’t already. How could I not, even if you were being grumpy and contrary.”

He wrapped you up in his embrace and looked down at you, eyes full of mischief. “Contrary? Is that anyway to speak to your King?”

“It is how a Queen speaks to her husband,” you joked back.

“Is that so? Then I must make you my Queen as soon as possible.” He closed the remaining distance between you, kissing you with vigour before lifting you and returning you both to the bed.

“However, nothing can be done until tomorrow. Whatever shall we do until then?” he drawled with mock innocence.

“I have a few ideas, Your Majesty,” you replied, mimicking his tone.

He shook his head. “Bucky, remember?”

“Bucky,” you agreed.

The End

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @sonatabee-blog, @goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @crayongirl-linz, @mrs-illyrian-baby, @wheezy-stucky, @km-ffluv

#Bucky x Reader #Historical AU #historical romance #Bucky Barnes x you #buckybarnesbingo2023 #Bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst #Bucky barnes smut

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handmadegiftpl · 10 months ago

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Alphonse Mucha Inspired Small Wooden Jewelry Box

Handcrafted Decoupage Stash Box, Ring Box & Earring Organizer - Handmade Gift for Women.

Handmade item

Ships from a small business in Poland

Materials: Pine wood, The inside bottom is made of natural felt, Decorated using decoupage technique, hand painted

Jewelry type: Brooch, Earrings, Necklace, Pin, Ring

Length: 15 Centimeters; Width: 11.5 Centimeters; Height: 5 Centimeters

#etsyshop #home decor #housewarming #gifts #decoupage #alphonse mucha #Small Wooden Box #Wooden Jewelry Box #Decoupage #Decorative Box #Jewelry Organizer #Wooden Ring Box #Earring Organizer #Small Jewelry Box #Jewelry Box #Gift Elderly Women #Trinket Box

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mistercrowbar · 4 months ago

Note

So I’ve been wondering, at what point do woman become scary to Aldiirn? Like presumably he’s not scared of say, a 3 year old. (Unless it does go that deep, I have read the Drizzt books, I know it’s a possibility) Is it the teen years? Also, if he was around, possibly helped raise a girl, would she become scary to him eventually or by virtue of being around her the whole time she like needed her food cut up and someone to check under the bed for monsters she wouldn’t really end up being scary? This is assuming she grew up to be kind of an average citizen noncombatant.

GOOD NEWS he raises githyanki egg baby, who I rolled for gender and got a girl, then rolled a class for personality archetype and got barbarian. I headcanon that githyanki hatch as toddlers and she is a HANDFUL and causes Aldiirn's heart rate to spike often but the experience of raising her helps alleviate his phobia.

BG3-era tho I'd say it goes down to like... how much agency a girl/woman has? Like Aldiirn tends to be fine around female half-drow becuase he knows firsthand that they also get treated poorly by everyone. For children it's like, if she had a problem with him how likely are there to be consequences or a "that's nice, honey," from the adults?

Aldiirn is also usually okay around elderly women, he got stockholm'd by the cheek pinching. also they love tipping him little gifts and extra points.

#aldiirn ask

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romanarose · 9 months ago

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About a Girl: Chapter 1

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: Joel is a simple man. He goes to work, he takes care of his kindergarten age daughter, he tries to make sure Tommy doesn't die and occasionally Tess comes over. He works on Frank and Bill's farm with Tommy, Tess, and another coworker, Max. For his birthday, Tommy drags Joel out to a local grunge band's show, music he knows Joel hates. Joel is surprised to find Tess's girlfriends best friend, a girl they all call Blue because of the blue in her hair, has caught his attention.

What he doesn't know is she is trans. When he finds out, he's very confused, not because he judges her, but because he's not sure what it means for him. Does it make him gay? What does trans even mean? He's very confused. Still, despite all the confusion Joel has an open mind and he just knows that he has a lot of feelings for you and he wants to try. Joel goes on a journey of learning, not only what your trans identity means but also how to take care of himself, how to set boundaries, and learning he doesn't need carry the whole world on his shoulders.

Joel loves country, is as yeehaw as they come. Blue loves grunge, and looking as edgy as she can get by as a school teacher. Can you and Joel make it all work with the one thing that bonds them both together; flannel?

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

A/N: I am not a trans woman, but I am trans. I am doing my best research! If I got something wrong or accidentally say something offensive, please tell me! Same with Sarah's hair. I learned a LOT about black hair care from living with my black roommate for 2 years, and watching a lot of youtube. Again, if im incorrect or offensive, let me know and ill correct! I just want Joel to care about his daughters hair <3

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

It all started with Tommy, as most adventures do. Joel was certain Tommy would make sure to mention that fact during his best man speech.

“You have got to get out more. You’re making me stir crazy just watching you sit at home.”

Joel rolled his eyes, packing Sarah’s lunch. He was happy to throw in some plums, Sarah’s favorite fruit, that he got from the food pantry. Since Sarah started kindergarten and he didn’t have to pay for nearly as much childcare, things had gotten less horrifically tight financially but now he was playing catch up. Catching pneumonia last winter had drained his little savings with an ER visit. Joel desperately wanted to not rely on charity, but he also didn’t want Sarah to go without.

“How would you know, you’re never even home.” Since getting out of the army, Tommy has not adjusted well. Joel was happy to let him live in the house he built for his ex-fiance on his parents land they gifted when Sarah was born. Tommy was a help with Sarah and was good company when he wasn’t out partying.

“Hey.” Tommy looked a little offended. “I’m here plenty. Just ask Sarah.” Sarah adored her uncle.

Joel sighed. “You’re right.” He wasn’t. “But I ain’t going. I can’t afford that, and I’d like to spend my days off with Sarah.”

Tommy tossed a cosmic brownie from the box he bought into Sarah’s lunchbox. “Come oooooon. Sarah loves the babysitter, and one night out won’t traumatize her forever. I’ll pay for the sitter, I already got tickets and I’ll even cover your drinks.”

Joel would rather the money go towards Sarah’s next dental appointment, but he couldn’t tell Tommy where to spend his money, and he knew there was no saying no to his brother when he gets like this. “How many bands are playing? I ain’t sitting through three openers, Tom.”

“Just one! You’re coming!” Tommy ran out of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time before Joel could protest. “Sarah! Guess who gets to hang out with Jessica tonight!” Joel could hear the sound of springs bouncing as Sarah cheered and called out if the bed breaks, Tommy’s fixing it.

After getting Sarah dressed, he sat her down on a chair in the kitchen and looked at the clock. “Only got time for a ponytail, baby girl.” Joel had figured out some simple hair care for thick hair he wasn’t quite equipped to work with. Before Sarah was born, he didn’t know how to do a single braid. Joel had practiced a little before Tommy had to chop off his hippie curls for the army but he still was lost in a lot of ways. 2 years ago, Joel must’ve looked particularly lost in the ethnic hair aisle with Sarah in the cart and a kind woman guided him to some hair gel, argan oil, and an edge brush, scribbling a few instructions on some scratch paper. That’s what's gotten him through this far. Joel kept thinking he needed to reach out somewhere or maybe find a book… but with what time?

Kayla, Sarah’s mom, wasn’t much help either. Kayla was mixed and absolutely inherited the polish side as far as hair, where Sarah got her late grandma’s genes. Kayla wanted to chemically straighten Sarah’s beautiful curls last year when she had her over Easter, but Joel put his foot down. When she was older, if she wanted to do whatever she wanted with her hair, braids, relaxed, wigs, she could but there was no way he was letting all those chemicals into a 4 year olds head just to make it “easier.” Joel could handle it.

She looked cute with her little puffball on the top of her head, anyway.

“TOMMY! LETS GO!” Why was Tommy harder to get out the door than Sarah was?

Little hands tugged at his shirt. “Daddy I want coffee.”

“No baby”

“Why?”

“It’s not good for little kids.”

“Uncle Tommy lets me have coffee.”

Joel sighed loudly. “Of course he did. Well, Sarah, that’s an uncle thing, I don’t know what to tell you. TOMMYYY!”

Tommy’s heavy footsteps clomped down the steps, dashing out the door. “Come one Jojo, whatcha wait’n for?”

How did little kids have so much energy in the morning? Tommy included. Sarah was chatty as ever on her way, talking excitedly about the eggs in the classroom's incubator. He tried to pay attention, he really did, but he was busy trying to figure out what bills he still owes. It was only September, one month into not having to pay out the ass for Sarah’s daycare. Was he even gonna be able to catch up at all before the summer comes? Her mom said she wanted to take her for the summer, but she was single right now and slightly more involved. When she finds a new man, she suddenly becomes much less interested in her child. Joel didn’t want Sarah around strange men all the time either.

“Daddy? Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?”

Tommy nudged Joel, calling him name for Sarah’s attention.

“What?” Joel said, not unkindly but perhaps a little too harsh than he wanted to speak around his daughter.

“Happy birthday daddy.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly, wincing at his prior tone. “Thank you baby. I’ll bring home a cake, how about that.” He felt like he could cry, snapping at his sweet girl for trying to wish him happy birthday. He was so bad at this.

Both children in the car cheered.

Joel dropped Sarah off with several kisses on her forehead, then ran off to the truck. He might just be on time if he speeds a bit. He didn’t speed with Sarah in the truck, he was less careful with Tommy.

“Just in time!” Tess’s voice greeted them in the farm house. “You guys eat?”

She knew the answer. Sarah’s kindergarten had a free breakfast program, leaving Joel and Tommy on their own and god knows they didn’t take proper care of themselves. Luckily, they had great bosses.

Joel, Tommy, and Tess all worked for Bill and Frank on their farm. Joel had stumbled on this job shortly after Kayla left and God, what a blessing. Bill and Frank had trouble finding help being the only gay farmers on the planet to felt like, but Joel wasn’t really in a position to deny a good paying job, not in this economy, not with a baby who barely had a mom around anymore. This was before Tommy came back from the army, and Joel’s parents dead a few years prior. He was alone.

That’s where he met Tess. She was something else. A woman working as a farm hand alone was surprising enough, but she was the first openly bisexual person Joel had met. Hell, she was the only the third gay person he knew of and the first woman. He’d lived a sheltered life. Still, Joel didn’t really see an issue with none of it. Wasn’t his business what two grown adults did, that was his thought on the matter. Not that he really had enough time to have thoughts on much of anything other than keeping Sarah and Tommy alive. When Tommy came back, he started working on the farm too.

Tess slid the men some pancakes, stating she knew it and went ahead and made extra.

Frank entered the room with something in his hand. “Wait!” He placed the item, which Joel saw was a candle on the the pancake.

“Oh, no, you guys don’t gotta-”

“Shut the hell up, Miller.” Bill entered the room with a pack of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other. He lit the candle, and then a cigarette.

Frank took it out of his hand, putting it out under the sink. “If you absolutely must smoke, you’re not smoking inside our home.” He then turned back to Joel. “Happy birthday, Joel.” The forth employee, Max, enters the farmhouse and then embarrassingly, Franks leads everyone (except Bill) in a very shitty rendition of happy birthday.

“Hey,” Tess nudged Joel as she attempted to fix the clutch without calling Bill up. “You coming tonight?”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Tommy convinced me. He also told Sarah it’s my birthday so now I gotta bring home cake and do a bit of the birthday thing with her. I was hoping to avoid it another year.”

She laughed at that. “Ah come on! It can’t be that bad.”

“She’s not, it’s my birthday that is.”

“I know.” Tess patted his back.

Joel and her worked in silence for a moment, but he figured this was as good a time as any. “Hey uh… so. You and Tommy.”

Tess smirked, but didn’t look at him. “What about my dear friend?”

“Well uh, that’s just it…” Joel cleared his troat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just, you guys been spending a lot of time together, and I’m just… well you know he’s at tough spot right now…-”

“When isn’t he?”

“Right. Well. I’m just wondering… Well.”

With a chuckle, she put down the wrench and turned to look at Joel with a smile. “You’re wondering if Tommy and I are an item.”

Cringing hard enough his eyes were closed, Joel nods.

“Don’t worry about your baby brother, he can handle himself.”

“Can he?”

“Joel. Look at me.”

Joel forced his eyes open.

“Tommy and I fuck sometimes to blow off steam, don’t act you’re much different.”

“It was one time!”

“It was 4 times, glad to know that I’m that forgettable.” Tess continued with her teasing before Joel could protest. “Listen, I know you’re worried about him, but Tommy and I aren’t interested in dating each other. It’s just for fun sometimes. Tommy puts up a tough front but I’d eat that boy alive.”

Finally, Joel laughed. Yes, she would.

Tess went back to work. “Besides, you’re meeting my new girlfriend tonight, birthday boy.”

Joel was exhausted, washing his hands and forearms and face before leaving to get Sarah. He tried to stay as clean as possible for Sarah. She didn’t need to know how hard he worked for her.

“Hey Joel, I get to watch Sarah this fall don’t I?” Frank asked as he sauntered into the kitchen.

Joel tried to protest, as he did every year, but it was merely a formality to be polite. He couldn’t afford childcare in the late hours it took to get harvest done. Hopefully it wouldn’t be so bad now that Max was hired on, he didn’t see Sarah hardly at all harvest. Joel would come back to the farmhouse to find Sarah asleep on the couch with Frank, who was no help with farming. He handled the finances and paperwork, and functioned as a babysitter in pinches. Joel was forever indebted to the couple, inclduding Bill despite his facade of toughness.

“Nonsense Joel. I look forward to seeing her every time.” Sarah fucking loved Frank. He was teaching her painting and how to have a proper tea party, real tea and all. But with a lot of sugar.

Speaking earnestly, Joel tried to express his appreciation. “Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it. I couldn’t do this without you.”

Frank clapped Joel on the shoulders, sliding him a card. “Thank you for everything you do. We really value you. I know Bill doesn’t say it much, or at all, but we appreciate you here.” He walked off, knowing Joel would protest the $500 cash inside the card.

“Daddy! Daddy! I made a friend!” Sarah exclaimed excitedly, running up to her father still covered in her paint smock that quickly transferred the red and blue onto Joel’s jeans.

“Is that so? Who is it?”

Sarah pointed to a little brunette girl sitting in time out. “That’s Ellie! She’s in trouble because she pretended a block was a gun.”

“Oh.”

At home, Joel went through the evening routine with Sarah, Tommy having gone with Tess to pre-game. He fed her as much of the macaroni she’d eat, bathed her and made sure to make things as easy for the sitter as possible. When Jessica came over, a nice local teenager that was great with Sarah, he briefed her as he tried to clean up the kitchen.

“Daddy? Where’s the cake.”

Goddammit of course he forgot something. He just can’t do anything right, can he? He was a shitty dad, a shitty brother, a shitty boyfriend, a needy employee-

“Where's the birthday boy!” Tommy burst in, followed by a group of people, some he knew, some he didn’t. With him was Tess carrying a cake.

“TESS!!!!!!” Sarah shouted, but went more for the cake she carried.

“Hiya, love bug!” She patted her ponytail. “Ready to sing happy birthday at the top of your lungs?”

Hadn’t she had enough happy birthdays? She must’ve known he’d forget the cake. They hadn’t been pregaming at all, they were making him a cake.

Tess hands the cake to Tommy, then gestures to the women next to her. Dark skinned, tall, her hair in… locks? Were those called locks? He was cooked. He needs to learn hair. “This is Talia, my girlfriend.”

Talia smiled brightly, extended a hand which Joel shook. “So nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Tess talks a lot about you Tommy and Max, it’s nice to put faces to the names.”

“Please, Joel is fine. I may ache like an old man, but I’m not one yet.” Joel joked with a soft but tired smile. He turned to tess. “Max coming?”

“Yup.” She shot him a look to be nice. Joel wasn’t fond of max. Good worker, shit head of a person. Joel knew he couldn’t really blame all Tommy’s shit on bad influences, but Max didn’t help. “And this,” She gestured over to another woman who he had just been too flustered to notice until now. “Is Talia’s best friend.”

You were absolutely fucking stunning, unlike anyting he’d ever seen in his life. Tight white tank top, tight leather pants and a leather jacket. In your hair was a streak of vibrant blue. Your eyes connected with his and for a moment, he forgot about all the other people in the room.

“Oh, um, hello,” Joel shook your hand when he snapped out of it, repeating your name.

You smile at him. “Actually, most people just call me Blue.”

A small voice from Joel’s hip. “Is that because of your hair? Why is it blue? Are you sick?”

“Sarah! Don’t be rude.”

Chuckling brightly, you promise it’s okay and crouch down to Sarah’s eye level. “I’m not sick. I actually dye it like that.”

“But why?”

Internally, Joel groaned, thinking you’d take offense at the line of questions Sarah’s certainly had ready, but you just answered. “Well, I think it makes me look pretty, just you’re cute hair style makes you look pretty.”

Sarah lit up at that. “My daddy did it!!!”

“He did? That’s so awesome! You have such a nice daddy.”

Sarah nodded in avid agreement. “He’s the BEST!”

Joel couldn’t help smiling at that. He always felt like he was failing her, but she loved him regardless. “I can’t do a lot, but I’m trying to learn. I can do a mean ponytail.” Joel caught Tommy smirking at him.

Once the babysitter took Sarah to wash up for cake, Talia quietly spoke to Joel, still attached to Tess's arm. “Tess told me her mom isn’t really involved. I’d love to help you learn how to care for black hair.”

Joel felt his heart drop. “Oh shit, does it look terrible? I really tried but I don’t even know where to go and-”

Talia cut him off with a laugh and a hand up. “No, not at all! It looks very healthy. I just mean if you’d like to learn how to do more, especially as it gets longer.”

Always embarrassed to ask for help, he always swallowed his pride for Sarah. “Yeah, yeah actually I’d really like that… I’ll play yuh, don’t worry I wouldn’t make you do it for free-”

She attempted to say he didn’t need to pay, but Tess told her it was useless to try and fight. Joel figured the bonus from Bill and Frank could pay for Sarah’s dentist cleaning and the rest he could pay Talia.

After a terrible happy birthday and saying goodbye to Sarah longer than really necessary, Joel was dragged out of the house to go to some shitty local grunge bands show for his birthday.

Joel fucking hated his birthday.

Thank you thank you thank you!!!!! I can't beleive people actually wanted to read this!!! We need more trans rep in this fandom <3

First chapter setting things up, then one chapter per week for 6 weeks for my Oscar/Pedro pride event!!! each chapter 2-7 will follow themes of the week until the happy end <3

MEET THE OC'S

Talia Monroe

Tess's girlfriend, Blue's bestfriend. Talia is joyfriend and high energy. She offers to help Joel learn black hair to properly care for Sarah.

Max Waltz

Works on the farm with Joel, Tommy, and Tess. Tommy likes him, Joel hates him, Tess ears towards liking him but tries to keep him in check. Max is a generally barzen man, hates his wife, is loud and annoying to Joel.

Kayla Carter

*no face claim right now*

Joel's high school sweetheart and ex-fiance, Sarah's mom. Kayla is in an out of sarah's life, lives out of town and is only around when its convinient, leaving Joel with alone.

I don't do tag lists for one shots but I do still for series so

How to keep up with the series:

Follow About a girl series on tumblr

follow @romana-updates and turn on notifications

Ask to be tagged!

I really enjoy writing this series so I hope you like it too <3

KISSES

Please remeber to reblog or comment or engage in some way <3 community keeps us all writing and drawing

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @ashleyfilm @bumblepony @snnyc @casa-boiardi @del-ightfulling @joelsoftie

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zqnl · 2 months ago

Text

Compiled some thoughts/observation/analysis of Vol I, Book 1!

Les Misérables Vol I, Book 1: A Good Man

Victor Hugo starts everything off with essentially the life and times of Bishop Myriel. Even though he says it has little relevance to do with the rest of the tale, the book not only touches on some major themes (and personal points of conflict for Hugo) but also has some foreshadowing that I already know will make some future scenes hit so much harder.

Less importantly, but more entertainingly, Myriel throws so much shade and gives so many backhanded compliments for a short, happy, elderly guy. Sometimes he's subtle about it and it flies over the head of the person he's talking to, but other times he just goes out of his way to make his disapproval known in very comical ways. Nothing I saw before reading the brick prepared me for this guy having personality, but I'm so happy it's there.

Notes on themes & foreshadowing/parallels under the cut! Would love to read about alternate opinions/things I didn't catch, especially as a first-time reader 👀👀

Themes

When is a violent revolution justified?

Down with the death penalty

What makes a person good?

Nobody's perfect, or why Myriel is a staunch royalist

Hedonism as a privelege for the rich

The importance of education

When is a violent revolution justified?

Myriel seems to have a very micro approach to goodness — he uses most of his own funds for the benefit of those in need and chides the bishops who hoard individual wealth, but repeatedly shies away from political change. It’s both pacifist and very cure-over-prevention, which is what makes his clash with the Conventionist G so interesting.

Their conversation really felt like Hugo’s own internal dialogue, attempting to address the conflict between the progress won through revolutions and the violence wielded to get there. Despite some back and forth, there was a clear ‘victor’ in the debate. G states “I voted for the end of the tyrant. That’s to say, the end of prostitution for women, the end of slavery for men, the end of benightedness for children. In voting for the Republic, that’s what I voted for.” Since this is extremely reminiscent of the preface, it’s clear that this is the voice Hugo endorses. He also appears to give his own definition for when violence is forgivable when G concludes his speech with “Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions. When they are over, what we recognize is this: the human race has had a rough time, but it has advanced.” It’s therefore quite intriguing that he chose to centre Les Misérables around the 1832 rebellion that didn’t succeed. Maybe future chapters will reveal a tighter definition for progress that will include the aftershocks (if any) of the June Rebellion?

Despite ending on a pretty unambiguous statement of philosophy, some of Hugo’s misgivings (previously published in his public announcements regarding past revolutions) are also voiced in this passage, like when Myriel says “You’ve brought about destruction. Destruction can be useful but I distrust destruction compounded with anger.” G responds by listing what that first revolution gifted France (though “sent tides of civilisation sweeping across the earth” could be referring to Napoleon’s conquests which is somewhat unbalancing), but I think the true rebuttal is when he responds with a crime against the people for every crime against the monarchy. This is particularly enjoyable because it mirrors Myriel’s own attitude in rejecting artificial divides between normal people and ‘higher powers’ back from when he wittily rebuked Napoleon.

Down with the death penalty

A vivid part of France’s violent revolutions is of course the use of the guillotine (or more broadly, the death penalty). Hugo uses some pretty unambiguous language to describe and personify the guillotine, leaving us very clear on his personal stance towards the death penalty; namely, that he’s extremely against it. Myriel himself says “I didn’t realize it was so monstrous. It’s wrong to be so deeply absorbed in divine law that you become unaware of human law. Death depends on God alone. By what right do men meddle with this matter of destiny?” Again, lines from the preface incorporated into the text, highlighting how this section is not in fact without bearing on the rest of the story, at least thematically.

However, Myriel’s actions after this revelation are quite interesting. While his exclamation appears to denounce the use of religion as a band-aid or distraction from material, man-made horrors, Myriel henceforth avoids the guillotine and continues to avoid interactions with changing the law. Later, he even says “Whatever his fellow man does, God allows it.” This is in-line with his character, which so far seems to primarily advocate for mercy and mundane acts of kindness, and avoids questioning the religion he serves. He even writes (of god) “Solomon names you Mercy, and of all your names this is the most beautiful.” in one of his books.

This also comes up in his conversation with G, except here it seems Hugo’s stance on the death penalty isn’t part of the debate. Instead, G is a Conventionist who voted against killing Louis XVI. Personally, I get the feeling that Hugo is drawing a line here. It seems like had G voted for Louis XVI’s death, Hugo would have found him unfit as a mouthpiece for his ideology.

What makes a person good?

Certainly not success, or a good social standing. The section where Hugo says “success is a fairly hideous thing. Its false resemblance to merit deceives men.” feels like one side of the coin to one of Les Misérables’ main tenets, with the flipside being that poverty does not imply weakness of character. I have it on pretty good authority that Les Misérables is very much about the goodness of the ordinary or lower class individual as opposed to the greatness of powerful figures, which was clear from Myriel’s very first snipe at Napoleon.

Hugo also describes Myriel as “Infantile if you will, but these sublime infantilisms were those of St Francis of Assisi and Marcus Aurelius.” I have a vague impression of childlike innocence being present in Cosette and to some extent Fantine (given her name). Hugo might not point to it as the primary or sole example of goodness, but he definitely props it up as one of the examples.

Nobody’s perfect, or why Myriel is a staunch royalist

It’s quite paradoxical for Myriel to believe that as a bishop — advisor to the people — he should live close to poverty, but simultaneously be a royalist and therefore implicitly accept that the king — leader of the people — can live in never-before witnessed splendour starting from the reign of Louis XIV.

This character flaw is again emphasised in the passing of Conventionist G, where Myriel (without much given reason) looks at a man peacefully accepting his death and thinks “He did not think there was any sense of God in this manner of dying.”. This is especially jarring since he’d said “Let us fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers.” a couple pages prior.

I guess no character can have it all?

Hedonism as a privilege of the rich

I don’t think I need to make too many notes here — his speech at the end of 1.1.8 speaks for itself. As an excerpt:

You fine gentlemen, as you say, have a philosophy of your own, for yourselves. An exquisite, refined philosophy available only to the rich

But you are kindly princes and you don’t mind that belief in God should be the philosophy of the people, rather in the same way that goose stuffed with chestnuts is the truffled turkey of the poor.

The importance of education

I imagine this will be touched on more later, but for now we have the quote:

Society is to blame for not giving free education. It’s responsible for the darkness it produces. In any benighted soul – that’s where sin will be committed. It’s not he who commits the sin that’s to blame but he who causes the darkness to prevail.’

This is obviously still relevant to us now, but unsurprisingly, the issue of education was even more important in the 19th century. Literacy rates are still quite low, and new scientific/philosophical/political theories were often spread via the written word. You can't convince the illiterate with writing! If the people who are most marginalised are the ones least able to engage with ideologies made to help them, the vehicle that might enable them to connect with new ideas is naturally extremely important.

Foreshadowing/parallels

Myriel’s silver

I think the following quotes speak for themselves, and add so much significance to Myriel’s later actions:

It must be acknowledged, though, that of his former possessions he was still left with six silver forks and spoons and a large soup ladle that for Madame Magloire were a daily joy to see gleaming splendidly on the white linen tablecloth.

… he had more than once been heard to say, “It would be hard to give up eating off silver.”

In the bishop’s own bedroom… was a small cupboard in which Madame Magloire locked away the six silver forks and spoons and the large ladle every evening. It has to be said, the key was never removed.

This little old guy just likes his one material indulgence, but gives it away to Jean Valjean anyways!

Jean Valjean’s future arrival

Myriel writes in another one of his books:

Don’t ask the name of anyone that asks you for shelter. It is especially the person whose name is a burden to him that has need of shelter.

Castles in the air

I’m not sure if this was just common imagery at the time, and I’m also not sure if the wording is similar in the original French, but in 1.1.12, “blushing choristers… young priests, like Perrette with her pot of milk, build castles in the air!” is used to describe those seeking to advance socially via the seminary. As far as I’m aware, Cosette doesn’t really have any ambitions to do with the church, but still… castle on a cloud in the air mentioned!

Baptistine’s family is rich!

We obviously find out in her letter to her sister, but previous sections foreshadow this by connecting Baptistine with some nicer material goods:

Mademoiselle Baptistine also had in her room a very large bergère of wood that had once been gilt, and upholstered in a flower-patterned Peking silk.

… first a very nice armchair…

However, as we shall see, underneath the whitewashed paper Madame Magloire had recently discovered paintings that decorated Mademoiselle Baptistine’s room.

… and second, a plain exterior peeled off to expose art or luxury.

Honestly, when I first read those sentences, I almost thought she was being set up for like… a villain arc? Or at least a secret reveal arc? But nothing I’ve heard in fandom seems to indicate that so. I just suspected a wealthy background a couple chapters in advance, I guess.

A sentence in Baptistine’s letter

I don’t know if this leads to anything, or if it’s just an excuse for Hugo to shout “[Myriel] is still a true royalist”, but why was Baptistine’s sister asking about a De Faux family?

Facing death with radiance

This one is definitely more of a stretch, but when Myriel accompanies the man sentenced to death onto the scaffold of the guillotine, the criminal is described as such:

So crushed and despondent the previous day, the man facing death was radiant. He felt his soul have been reconciled and his trust was in God.

I’m not very into canon Enjoltaire, and the context here is a believer comforting the wretched by following them instead of the wretched following the believer, but I'll stretch to get the parallel anyways. I also just think the general concept of taking happiness and comfort in not facing it alone is very nice.

#les mis #les mis letters #not sure if i should tag individual chapters since this is just a Block #reading the brick #donougher translation

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moon-child-goddess · 1 year ago

Text

When we say goodbye Pt 2

Pairings: Druig X LightBender!Eternal!Reader (Fem)

Summary: Reader’s life after Druig left, and when they meet again, the reader is running an illegal operation selling weapons and stuff.

Warnings: MCU Violence, Blood, Fighting, I used Fem pronouns, angst, this is darker than I meant to be. Talks about killing and death.

Author's note: I got carried away again. This is almost 6k words. Part 3 will be shorter and fluff mostly. This is not proofread.

Part One Part Three

After that night in Tenochtitlan the group slowly split up on their own. Y/N had settled in a small town that was used as a trade route. Boats came from all over with fine jewels, linens and food. Half a mile from the pier was these empty stalls people would rent out to sell things for the day. Most people there made a livable profit to provide for their families. It was Y/N’s favorite place to hang out. She liked to check out what new things humans had created, and help the elderly set up shop.

One warmer than normal afternoon she made her way through the stalls smiling at all her favorite neighbors and purchased small things from them to help support their families. A booth of glittering knives and jewelry caught her eye as she passed by. More specifically a dagger of silver with blue stones in the hilt. His eyes were that blue, she thought. Her fingers danced gently over the stones lost in her memories.

“How much?” Y/N asked the small, round in the belly merchant. Her eyes didn’t leave the blade.

“I will give it to you for the piece in your hair.”

It was a pin that Druig had gifted her, a golden butterfly. This was the last thing she had of him. Y/N’s fingers subconsciously touched the cold metal; she had forgotten it was there. It had become such a habit to put it in first thing in the morning since he had given it to her. She never knew where he got it from, and when she asked him he smiled and just murmured her nickname. There was no way she could part with it. It was all she had.

“Umm, let me think about it. Thanks.” With a smile she continued down the stalls. She thought she was over the pain of him leaving but it was still as fresh as the day it happened.

As she passed a fruit stand, she heard a voice that sounded an awful lot like Druig. Her heart picked up a beat. Was It really him after all these years? Out of the corner of her eye she could make out dark hair and he faintly looked about the same size. She took a second to control her breathing before fully facing the man.

It wasn't him, just another human trying to haggle for a deal on the fruit. Her heart hurt a little more than it had at booth with the knives. She longed to see her friend again. She had searched for him but with no luck of finding him. He never cared, did he? Why stay away after all this time if he cared even an ounce? It's been over a hundred years.

Without a second more of hesitation, she ran back to the man with the dagger. Out of breath she yanked the hair piece out. The strands of hair it held fell back to their natural place.

The merchant stared at her as if she grew another head. He had half the mind to up the price since she wanted it that much, but something told him no. She studied the pin one last time. When she handed this to him she had nothing left that tied her to him. This- This was goodbye. Her eyes burned for a second, but she refused to cry anymore. Y/N thought about the time with the butterflies. A time where she was happy and never would have thought he would have left her.

Trading was the smart thing to do. Her powers didn’t seem to work anymore. Every time she tried to shape light after that night it put a strain on her body. She almost passed out every time. The shadows sometimes moved, but she couldn't quite master them yet. Ajak couldn't figure out why they stopped working either. The women had tried healing Y/N on many occasions, but nothing worked. At one point Y/N begged Ajak to take her memories and let her start over. Let her have a reset after 5,000 years. She was exhausted, and her soul hurt immensely. But Ajak said no.

The merchant held his hand open waiting for her to hand it over. Y/N dropped it in his waiting palm with a lone tear falling down her cheek. She took the dagger and turned, missing the flash of golden eyes watching her walk away.

She made her way back to the small place she called home, setting the weapon on the table. Sprite made her way out of her room to bother Y/N about being bored. But stopped any words from coming out once she saw the state Y/N was in and gave her a hug. They stayed like that for quite some time. Sprite extended her visit for a few extra days making sure Y/N was ok before she left to live with Kingo.

-----

Centuries passed slowly for Y/N, but she had stopped clinging to her feelings for Druig and moved on. She started dating humans and some aliens. They kept her company and cared for her the way she yearned for. They came and went throughout the years. She watched some grow old and die. Quite a few were whisked off to wars where they died. Each one of them took a piece of her with them as she loved them fiercely.

Two of them were murdered in cold blood right in front of her. She managed to kill one of the assassins in a fit rage. Before she knew the shadows around her came together forming a monster scarier than the boogieman. It tore the assailant apart making it so no one could identify him. Just as quickly as the monster was created it vanished. Humans continued to become such dark and miserable creatures that enjoyed inflicting pain.

Y/N eventually moved in with Ajak and Sprite soon after losing control of her powers. She didn’t mean to kill the man it had just happened. They moved around a lot because to many people became curious of Sprites appearance. During the years they were together they helped Y/N gain control of the shadows. Sprite often created illusions with her abilities to push Y/N to new extremes.

After an afternoon of fighting Y/N was ready to give up, the shadows were not working, and she wanted a break from learning. She felt like a child. Helpless. Sprite wanted her to actually shape something instead of using ribbons of shadows to do her work. They had done it four times last week.

“This is dumb. I am going to bed.”

“Come on Sunshine. Don’t tell me you can’t fight an imaginary bear.” Sprite teased. She knew the nickname would set her friend off.

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” Y/N bit out. Throwing ribbons of jet-black shadows at the bear. She held it in place keeping it from moving an inch. It ripped Sprites creation in half.

“Not what we wanted, but good enough.”

Y/N heaved. She was afraid of the shadows they tended to kill more then anything. IT was an extension to her pain and anger. They were way stronger then the light had been.

----

One particularly stary night she was making her way back home from the market. Y/N wanted to make a nice dinner for Ajak after everything she had done for her. She decided to cut through the forest to get back home faster. A man followed behind her. He waited till they were far enough away to get closer, so no one could hear her scream. Y/N could feel a cold stare on her. She turned and the man took the opportunity to attack holding a knife to her throat.

“Give me your jewels and money.” The girl stared at him like he was stupid.

“Are you deaf? I said give me your money!” He was livid now.

Y/N shot him a cold smirk. This pathetic man thought he could win? With that thought she let out a humorless laugh. The man almost backed away not expecting this response. He thought she would cry and beg for her life. This was a psychotic response.

“No. I won’t hand it over. If you want to live, I would walk away.” The man scoffed and pressed on the blade a little harder. A small trickle of blood ran down her neck.

“I am the one in control. I have the knife.” A spray of his saliva hit Y/N in the face.

Before the man could blink, she had him on his knees bound by shadowy ribbons. He tried to pull his arm out, but he couldn’t move. The darkness swirled behind the girl as she pulled out the knife she always had on her person. The man stopped breathing as he watched the girl walk up to him twirling the blade.

“you-you’re a witch?”

“No, no. I am an eternal. That is a vastly different thing. Now tell me, do you often attack young women in the street?”

She raised a brow waiting for him to answer. She wasn't sure what to do with him yet and his answer would influence her. A panicked look flashed through him, and she knew what the answer was. Biting her lip she kept her anger in check before she ripped the man apart. She promised Ajak no more human death.

Her shadows tightened and he cried out. A sickening crack echoed off the trees. She broke a bone for sure.

“You monster.” He cried out as she ran away.

Two days later Y/N was walking sprite back home when a bunch of villagers surrounded them. Amongst them was the man that tried to attack her.

“That's her. That's the witch.” He pointed a bulbous finger in her face.

“I knew she was to pretty.” On person mumbled to their neighbor.

“Devil worshiper.” Another said.

Sprite looked ready to attack but Y/N pulled her back. Shaking her head. She knelt down hugging sprite.

“Go. Run home I will find you later.”

Sprite had a remark that died on her lips. She wasn’t sure if Y/N would live past this. There were a lot of them, and she promised no more killing. Before Y/N could ask her again she ran. Ajak could help she thought.

When Sprite managed to get Ajak’s help the town square was filled with humans that had been knocked out. Y/N was nowhere to be seen.

-----

Y/N had made her new home Europe after that incident, and she stayed there for centuries. She studied with so many great minds and helped them build institutes and careers. When they died they lived on in the stories Y/N told everyone who would listen.

She settled in London during the women’s suffrage movement. Where she and her now boyfriend fought for women’s rights together. They made their way through the streets hanging posters when a women left out the doors of a pub.

“Y/N?” She straightened up at the voice. Sersi.

Y/N faced her with a smile on her face. It had been a long time since she had seen the girl.

“Oh, it is you. I have missed you.”

“Hello, Sersi. I have missed you too.”

She hugged the black-haired women. Y/N had forgotten how beautiful she was, and truly missed her hugs. Sersi and her had been close once. A rift grew between them when she married Ikaris. Y/N always stood on Druigs side while Sersi stood by her husband.

“Who is this?” Sersi asked looking at the tall guy next to her.

“Alexander. We are courting as one may say. We are also fighting for women’s rights.” Sersi smiled. Y/N was just like Druig wanting humans to stop being so cruel.

“Well, I am glad you are ok, and best of luck to you.”

-----

“I am going to be a nurse in the war. I want to help the men who are fighting.”

It was three years into the World War, and Y/N was tired of watching it happen. Alexander had fallen shortly after it started.

“Y/N please, I can’t protect you out there.” Ajak begged.

“I want to help; I can’t stay here. I will come back, I promise.”

Ajak shook her head not wanting to hear it. Phastos was already way more involved than she liked. Now Y/N wanted to leave and basically be in the front lines? This was her worst nightmare. Two of them may never return to her and she couldn’t bare to part ways with them.

“I just want you safe. You fought your war. The deviants are gone its your time to rest.”

“I have been resting for 1,900 years now. If it becomes too much, I will run.” Y/N put everything in her tone to sound sincere. They stared at one another before Ajak nodded and asked to be written as much as possible.

-----

The war had been over for a year now and Y/N settled in New York. She hung out at a club where her roommate sang nightly at. Everyone who was anyone came there. Gangsters made deals in the back booths, and Senators got their drugs or girls.

Y/N was sitting at the bar playing with her drink, waiting for her friend to take the stage. It was a busier night than usual. There was a man with black hair and ocean blue eyes that kept shooting her looks from his side of the bar. She blushed each time they made eye contact. He shot her a wink before she turned to face the stage where the musicians were changing out.

“Hello Ma’am. My name is Giovanni.” There was an Italian accent when he spoke.

“Y/N” She shook his hand smiling.

It was the start of their love story. They were happy, and Ajak adored him. He made her Y/N truly happy. They spent one weekend a month with Ajak. Family was important to Giovanni, and it was her family. She did tell him about the fact that she would never age, but he didn’t care. He loved Y/N.

“You know who he looks like?” Sprite wiggled her eyebrows. A smirk in her eyes.

“Shut up. That is not why I am with him. He is kind to me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and ruffled Sprites hair. Which annoyed the young girl. She fixed it and glared off to the horizon.

“I heard he asked Ajak for your hand in marriage.”

“He did. And asked me to marry him last night.” That night, he promised he would never leave her during his human existence. Y/N held out her hand, showing off the engagement ring. Sprite studied it before nodding. This was not the wedding she expected to attend for Y/N.

----

Y/N and Giovanni lived a lavish life together. She was utterly happy with their life. Giovanni brought her flowers once a week, never allowing a dead one in her sight. Their maid would pick out the dead ones every morning per his orders. Each Friday, he came home early to take her on a date.

One winter night, they were coming home from the ballet and giggling like two school kids with a secret. Giovanni spun Y/N through the opened front door and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are amore?” he asked, flipping on the light switch.

Before any of them could register the man in the hall to the living room, a gun shot echoed through the room. Y/N’s ears rang. Giovanni landed on the floor with a thud. If the gun wound didn’t kill him, the hit his head took would have. Her vision blurred. Blood rushed to her head. This is all a dream. She repeated it over and over, hoping she would wake up.

Y/N let out a blood-curdling scream when she could see clearly again. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears escaped. She hadn't felt pain like this since Tenochtitlan. Her body was on fire. Like it was turned inside out, and woodland creatures were feeding on her intestines.

She didn’t give the gunman a chance to run. Y/N used the darkness behind him to effortlessly bind him. He lay on the floor staring up at the dark ceiling.

"Amore! Amore! You are going to be fine, please, wake up.” Her white gloves were now crimson. She tried to apply pressure to the wound. But it was too late, he wasn't breathing, and his skin was a grey blue. Her now silent tears fell on his face. She used a shaky hand to close his cold, lifeless eyes. Y/N laid her head on Giovanni’s chest, still hoping that this was a bad dream.

The killer grunted, trying to escape the binds her shadows kept him in. Y/N’s head snapped up, looking right at him. He was going to pay for his sins. She would make sure of it. She didn’t care about the promise she made Ajak.

The man shook in fear as he watched her approach. Her eyes were completely black, with no white or color to be seen. She pulled every ounce of darkness to her, using it to create his own personal nightmares. The monster took on all forms. No one was close enough to hear him scream.

“Please, the Russians sent me. I have a family.” He begged.

Y/N only smiled. It was music to her ears to her him cry. She used the shadows to tear him apart. There was no body left, just blood dripping from her walls.

-------

Ajak watched Y/N throw dead roses on Giovannis' coffin. It was the last bouquet he had bought her. They were the only ones left at the cemetery. His family left as soon as the ceremony was over, going home to grieve alone. Y/N wasn't ready to say goodbye. She still held hope for it all to be a dream.

She called Ajak immediately after she killed the man. Y/N sobbed on the phone begging her to come. Ajak showed up as soon as she could to comfort the girl she thought of as a daughter. They planned the funeral together.

After five minutes of staring down into the hole, she fell to her knees. Weeping as her heart broke again. She was finally happy again, and it was dragged from her in the cruelest way possible. Ajak rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder. They cried together till it got too cold to be outside.

Y/N was tired of feelings. They were overrated anyway. All the light she had left in her soul was gone she was ready to take revenge on evil.

-----

Druig stood as straight as a board with his arms folded together. He listened to his fellow Eternals as they explained to him what Areshim really had planned for them. His eyes kept flickering back to the door. He waited for the only one he cared about to open them and walk in. He missed the smile she always wore. Letting her go was the biggest mistake he made in his 7,000 years. When he had gone to find her, she was happy, and he didn’t want to interrupt her life.

"Where is Y/N?"

No one responded or made a sound. They avoided his question. Druig clenched his jaw. Was she out there alone? His heart stuttered at the thought of it. Sprite refused to make eye contact with him. He was not going to like the answer. There was no easy way to explain that she had become a person he would hate.

“She is in New York, basically running a mafia. It’s been in the American news since the 50’s when she burned a church full of racists down. Ten died that day.” Sprite broke the silence. He needed to know. Druig was going to find out one way or another when they went looking for her. The group didn’t know either. The only other person was Ajak.

Thena and Gilgamesh turned to each other and began to talk in hushed whispers. That seemed a little dark for Y/N. She was the definition of happiness. Killing humans was something she would have never done.

Kauran used the camera to zoom in on everyone's faces as they took in Sprite's words. Sprite had been the only one Y/N talked to after the 50’s. Ajak attempted but never got a response from her. Y/N did not want to listen to lectures about why what she was doing was wrong. She also didn’t want to face the disappointment.

Druig frowned, that couldn’t be right. Sprite sighed.

"Look, Y/N/N went through some dark things in the last two thousand years. I promise this was a path that took its time to claim her.” Sprite paused her words before continuing. “She has recently been put on the CIA’s watch list. After allegedly murdering a senator, I don’t think she will help us.”

Druig was angry that they allowed her to suffer. His sunshine was out there in pain.

“Why didn’t you help her?” He asked, voice raised.

“Us? You left her. Ajak and I stayed with her most of the time. We tried to take care of her, but humans’ man they can be cruel” Sprite hissed.

“I will go talk to her. I will get her to help” Druig said in a final tone.

“If you plan on getting to her, it will not be easy. There is security armed with extremely illegal weapons posted 24/7. They are trained to shoot first and ask later. Plus, the last time I saw her was five years ago, and there was no Y/N left. She is not in there.”

Sersi shook her head. Everyone of them refused to believe what Sprite said. There was another silence as they processed the words.

“I will go. We need her, to pull this off.”

It was mainly selfish reasons for him wanting to go. Druig wanted to confirm that his beautiful sunshine had truly become evil.

“You don't understand. She is not going to help. Y/N doesn't care about anything anymore.” Sprite argued standing up crossing her arms.

“I am going to try. What's the worst that could happen? I can control minds anyway. Her security won’t be anything.”

"She kills you." There was no humor behind her words. Y/N would do it too, no hesitation. She watched the girl gut a man who betrayed her without even blinking. That was the last time she spoke to her.

"Fine with me." Ikaris chimed in. Druig rolled his eyes. Now was not the time to fight with him.

-----

Y/N stood over the traitor. Her slender fingers gripped onto his chin, holding his head in place. That way, he was forced to stare into her colorless eyes. Her rings were pinching his skin as she gripped tighter. He tried to pull out of the shadow ropes that were tying him down.

“What did you tell them?” He blinked then laughed. The sound was borderline maniacal. Y/N landed a swift punch to his nose. A crunching sound could be heard. She smirked; it was broken. Blood pooled out of it and onto her shoe.

Pity. She thought. Her favorite suede over the knee boots were now stained. Y/N yanked a knife out from one of the many on her leg. The light from the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling reflected off the blade as she dragged it up his shirt to his neck. He swallowed, and the blade kicked his skin. Scarlet drops slowly crept out. She bent over, pressing her lips right against his ear. Maybe if he heard them directly and clearly, he would understand.

"What did you tell them?" She asked again, her red lips leaving marks on his skin.

"I'm not saying a word. You may as well use that knife." They spoke and spit in her face. Some blood mixed in landing on her nose. She backed away, tightening the hold the shadows had on him. Her eyes turned completely black again as her blood pressure rose. Light evaporated as she pulled the shadows around them. She smirked when she saw his shudder.

"Very well then." Without another thought, she slid her dagger across his neck, ending it swiftly. The knife cut through like his neck was room temperature butter. She flicked the knife off to the side a few times before taking the black handkerchief her right-hand man held out. While she polished the blade, she let the shadows go.

"Y/N?" A male voice with an accent spoke. Her back stiffened. She hadn't physically heard that voice in many, many years. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn't real. She had heard his voice throughout time in her head, but it stopped after meeting Giovanni. Was she losing it like Thena? All the murders finally catch up to her.

"Clean this up. Regular protocol, and don't forget to burn your clothes this time. Also, remove the tongue so people know what happens when you betray us.” Y/N spoke after a moment. Electing to ignore her illusion.

"Ye-yes ma'am."

Her cohort looked confused while staring at the door behind her. So, he was real. He showed up now? It's a little too late. Y/N was not surprised he got in since he could control minds after all, but how did he find her.

Y/N walked past Druig out the metal doors he held open. Her long ponytail bounced with each step she took, and her heels echoed. She refused to acknowledge him and made her way to her office. She still wasn't entirely convinced it was him. Maybe the shadows created him to give her a consciousness.

Druig followed closely behind her. Slightly appalled at the sight back there. That was not the woman he knew. This person was a shell of who she was.

Her office was pristine and all black. Everything was in the exact place she wanted it in. Y/N poured herself a cup of Burbon, not speaking a word. She faced the window as she chugged it down and filled it back up.

"Can I help you? Or are you here to lecture me?" She finally faced the blue-eyed man. His jaw was still sharp enough to cut through glass. Leaning back on her desk, she crossed one foot in front of the other. Showing off her legs. She was intimidating. A true queen upon her throne.

Druig took in the lack of color in her eyes, and the iris was back. He looked over her swallowing. Knives were adorning her legs. Each dagger was delicately designed and had a blue sapphire in the handle. She looked good. He had to admit that.

Although he was not going to be intimidated by her. He folded his arms, copied her pose, and glared at her. This was not Y/N. He refused to believe that.

"Lecture you for what? Taking a human life? I should because the Y/N I knew would have never done that." Druig shook his head; some black hair falling in to his face.

"He was a traitor. They get punished. Which is none of your business. I stopped being your Y/N when you left me." She bit down on her lip, folding her arms. Druig flinched.

"What about the senator?" Oh, was that why he was here. Mad, I took the trash out of political power. Druig took a step closer, testing the waters.

"He was a bad man. He hurt children. Again, none of your business. Also, if I said anything, you would be an accessory." She was getting annoyed. This was why he showed up after 2,000 years to judge her. She grabbed the cup of bourbon and downed it.

"And killing him is, ok?" Druig watched her eyes flash all black. shadows covered the light in the room. This was new. He thought.

"Once again. None. Of. YOUR. Business. This is my empire." She enunciated every word spitting them out. Then threw her glass at him, missing his head. Druig took another slow step towards her.

"My sunshine, what has happened?" Y/N scoffed at his words. Her eyes went fully back again. He had no right to show up unannounced and tell her how to treat people. No right to use that nickname.

"I haven't manipulated light in 2,000 years, so don't call me that. The shadows... the dark is always there.”

It was true the sunset, the light disappeared. The Sun would cast shadow she could always find the dark. He bent down, putting his hands on the table under her. Effectively, he trapped her in front of him. They were mere inches apart. He took in the scar that was on her right eyebrow. It was on the rawer side telling him it was recent.

"There is always light. You just have to find it. So, tell me what happened."

“I was tired of being the good guy. You walked away, and everything fell apart, Druig. I was alone and hurt. I had Sprite but she couldn’t replace you.”

“I am sorry. I regret leaving you more than you know. I went looking for you once.”

Another laugh escaped red painted lips. How sentimental. Y/N pushed him, so he sat in a chair in front of her desk. It was her turn to make him feel little. Their faces inches apart.

"Pray tell me when did you look?”

“When you sold your pin to the man for the dagger.” His fingers traced the weapon that sat on her upper left thigh. She grabbed his hand and placed it back on the armrest.

“Then you what left?”

“Yes, because you didn’t seem like you wanted anything to do with me. You sold something I gave you.” Druigs voice raised.

“I sold it because I thought I heard you, and I guess I did. But my heart hurt, and I decided I didn’t want anything of yours to remind me you left! You- you ignorant ass hole.” Y/N yelled out. She tried not to hurt him. If it was anyone else, she would have. She moved her head to the side, refusing to look at him.

Druig used a finger to guide her face back to him. Her eyes were glassy as he stared into them. There were no words he could say to make it better.

“Why couldn’t you have been fake? Just another hallucination.” She mumbled, and he barely heard. His brow rose.

“You hallucinated me?”

“Yes, the worst one was during World War 2. My nursing tent I was working in was attacked, and I thought I was dying. You were there. I wanted to die honestly, but I was saved and sent home where Ajak healed me.”

Y/N backed away. Sitting on top of her desk again. She wiped away the stray tears before looking back at him.

“Anyway, why are you here? You don’t care about the senator I allegedly killed.”

"We need your help.”

Druig told her everything Sersi told him. How Ajak and Gilgamesh died, and why being sent here was a lie. Y/N did cry for the fallen. Telling Druig lying wasn’t funny, but he promised he was not lying. This time, he wiped away her tears and stroked her back, soothing her the best he could.

After a moment, he explained the plan to her.

“We need you, Y/N.”

"No. Screw your precious humans, Dru. I hope they all die." He flinched. Sprite was right. This was going to be hard. He sat back down in front of her.

"I'm dealing with shaking the Spiderman and other avengers off my trail. if we all die, so be it."

“Sunshine…”

There was a knock at her door cutting him off.

"Come in.”

The person looked at Druig and hesitated.

"It's ok to speak freely he is not a threat."

"The sparrow's youngest son is here to make a deal."

"Bleh him again. He is just in love with me, you know. What kind of deal?"

" To give you the evidence he has that proves your gun shipment is illegal. In exchange for a hit on his brother."

"I don't get involved with a family business. You know this, Loretta. The evidence he has is useless it proves nothing."

" You may want to talk to him. It's bad."

"Show Druig out. I will meet with our guest."

"No, I will wait. We need to finish talking Y/N."

"You guys are more than capable of doing it yourself. I have a business to run.”

“Please.” Druig’s voice cracked, and Y/N’s heart clenched. He sounded broken.

“I need someone to fill in for my right-hand man as they are busy. Come with me and then we will talk." He still held power over her. She did not want to admit it after all this time.

“Loretta, you can send him in here. Give 3 min to fix myself, and we are good to go.”

Y/N picked up the glass pieces from the floor and wiped any may up streaks off her face. Druigs eyes followed her, not sure what to do anymore.

“Y/N sweetheart. I have missed you." A new voice spoke as they came into the room. She sighed. This was a long night. Druig flinched at the nickname.

“Let me make it short since you are busy. I have your people on the pier with the crates, and I want you to kill my brother so I can take charge. We will not start a war with you.” The man plopped down next to Druig. His eyes never left Y/N.

“Let me think about it and talk to my people before I make decisions, ok?”

“I will give you 4 days before I have the Avengers here.”

Druig squinted at the man who was so brazen to throw threats around. He was tempted to use his powers and throw the man out of the room, but he stopped himself. This was Y/N’s fight. The two exchanged more words before he left.

Y/N sighed and sat back down. She stared at the blue-eyed man in a leather jacket that brought some feeling back to her. She thought of every outcome if she followed him.

Druig stood up and walked so he was in front of her. He took his hand out of his pocket, and she saw a flash of gold. He placed whatever it was in her hair before kissing her forehead and left.

She touched the thing. It was the butterfly pin. Y/N thought it was gone forever. He was truly there that day. Y/n ran down the hallway chasing him.

“Fine I will help.”

#druig imagine #druig x reader #eternals imagine #eternals x reader #marvel imagine

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