#How To Save Your Marriage During Separation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlkisser13 · 4 months ago

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love tropes with the bat family

characters: bruce wayne, richard "dick" grayson, barbara gordon, jason todd, timothy "tim" drake, stephanie brown, cassandra cain, duke thomas, and damian wayne

bruce wayne

arranged marriage

• the marriage was arranged by his parents and your parents to merge the two most powerful families in gotham, providing both financial stability and social influence. bruce only went along with it because he wanted to honor his parents’ last wishes.

• initially, there's a distance between the two of you. he’s so consumed by his quest for justice and his role as batman, that he doesn’t really have the time to truly get to know you. meanwhile, you’re just trying to understand your role in his life.

• publicly, the two of maintain the appearance of the perfect, high-society couple, attending galas and charity events. behind closed doors, the two of you sleep in separate beds and barely talk to one another.

• alfred becomes a mentor and confidant to the both of you, helping your navigate your new life together and offering uncle iroh level advice.

• it isn’t until you get hurt, that he begins to realize the depth of his feelings for you.

• DEFINITELY says the, "who did this to you?" line.

• this marriage brings a new dynamic to his life. you have your own skills and resources and you become an integral part of his crime-fighting efforts.

• your presence in his life helps him heal emotionally, offering him a sense of family and home. this support strengthens him, making him a more balanced and effective hero.

• you both work towards a shared vision for gotham, combining your immense resources and influence to create lasting change, honoring the legacies of both your families. <33

richard "dick" grayson

you fell first, he fell harder

• charming and attractive, it’s hard to not fall in love with dick grayson. he’ll flirt and send compliments someone’s way, effectively tampering with their feelings. it’s no surprise when you find yourself having romantic feelings for him.

• despite your best efforts to keep your feelings hidden, dick starts noticing the little things—how you laugh at his jokes a bit too eagerly, how your eyes linger on him a bit longer, and how you're always there to lend a hand.

• as you spend more time together, you can't help but be more obvious about your feelings. you find excuses to be near him, offer to help with his missions, and bring him coffee during late-night patrols.

• one day, during a particularly dangerous mission, you do something reckless to save him. that’s the final push he needs to confront and confess his feelings for you.

• ANGRY LOVE CONFESSIONS>>>

• he never noticed you. but now that he had, he couldn't un-notice you.

• once you find your way into his heart, it’s hard for him to let you go. more and more, he starts finding himself constantly wishing for your presence.

• he constantly tells you how much you mean to him and how he can't imagine his life without you.

• this man met you, fell in love with you, and has been falling ever since. <33

barbara gordon

the korrasami trope (i didn’t know what else to call it)

• both of you had feelings for dick, but he ultimately chose you. after he made his decision, she began to act extremely cold towards you.

• despite this, you constantly went out of your way to ensure that she didn’t feel left out. you included her in activities and made an effort to show her that your relationship with dick didn’t have to affect your friendship with her.

• she becomes jealous when she sees you and dick together and for the longest time, she thought she was jealous of you because you were him. she soon realizes that she was actually jealous of HIM because he was with you.

• during the times when dick was busy with his duties as nightwing, the two of you would often find yourselves alone together. these moments of forced proximity brought you closer, and that’s when she started to develop feelings for you.

• you start to notice subtle changes in her behavior around you. she becomes more attentive, goes out of her way to spend time with you, and shows a genuine interest in your well-being.

• she struggles with her feelings for you, torn between her loyalty to dick because of their friendship and her growing love for you.

• girlie is down HORRENDOUSLY for you. <33

jason todd

enemies to lovers

• you hate jason, he hates you. just the thought of him irritates your whole being, shakes your bones in anger, his name leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

•this man will NEVER stop bothering you, he likes to see you stressed out and angry, but he lowkey thinks it’s cute that’s why he likes to piss you off.

• you intrigue him, when he started to bother you he was legit hating on you but as time flew by, he somehow liked your attention on him.

• being an annoying piece of shit= your attention.

• despite your differences and the fact that you and jason mixed like oil and water, on in the field, you guys grudgingly tolerated each other, working together to take out your enemies.

• the tension between the two of you is so thick that during mission briefs, bruce has to seat you guys across the room from each other, unless he wants to hear mumbled insults back and forth and glaring between you guys.

• the rest of the bat family teases the two of you relentlessly because they’re convinced that you guys are the perfect match for one another (they’re absolutely right).

• when he finally realizes that he has feelings for you, he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t in fact like you romantically but that he was just admiring your skills in the field.

• he actually finds himself looking out for you on missions, even though he won’t be upfront about it.

• he becomes somewhat awkward to be around, and the rest of the bat family immediately capitalize off this to bully him with it. but regardless, he finds himself drifting towards you a bit more, and picking up on some of your habits. as much as he hates to admit it, he wants to know more about you. <33

timothy "tim" drake

friends to lovers

• tim heavily values trust and loyalty. as friends, you’ve always been someone he can rely on, whether it's sharing secrets or working through problems together.

• despite being one of his best friends, he isn't overly expressive with his emotions. he shows his affection through small, thoughtful gestures – bringing you coffee, remembering your favorite snacks, or staying up late to help you with something.

• he gradually comes to the realization that he has feelings for you. once it hits him, he begins to avoid you, trying to process everything.

• however, he starts to get like physically sick because he misses you so much. plus, you called him to ask if they'd done anything wrong and the pain in your voice was too much for him to bear.

• it was impossible to ignore the change in his behaviour. for one, he couldn't speak to you in person without his face turning blindingly red. plus, not only does he struggle to look you in the eye, but he is also CONSTANTLY stuttering around you.

• when you decide to confront him about it, he kind of just blurts out that he’s in love to you. much to his genuine surprise (but literally no one else's), you told him that they loved him too.

• sometimes, he feels like an idiot for not saying or doing something about it sooner. you frequently tease him for not having picked up on his own feelings sooner— but for once, he graciously accepts it. <33

stephanie brown

fake dating

• after your ex breaks up with you, steph devises a plan to get back at them and make them jealous.

• the two of you were already best friends so it couldn’t be that hard. right? RIGHT?

• you’re both aware that damian doesn’t buy your little arrangement one bit. he just doesn’t believe that the two of you are dating because you’re such good friends. (and they were roommates!!!)

• steph has this raging pride when it comes to damian, so she’s made it her personal mission to convince him that you and her are actually dating.

• it takes a while for you two to get into the hang of it, but once you do, it’s like a regular routine.

• steph would definitely fall for you first. she’d hide her feelings behind your little charade, until the fake dating stuff starts extending into the time you two share together when no one else is watching.

• she still gravitates towards you on the couch when everyone has left after dinner at your place, pressing kisses to your cheek when she leaves even though everyone else is already gone. there’s no need to continue acting like this but she does.

• the fake dating thing really starts hurting her because she thinks that you don’t really like her like that (you do) but its nice to pretend that you do in those moments, that it’s all real even though it's not.

• the people who know of your secret knows that steph has fallen for you (except for steph herself, and you because you refuse to believe it).

• like, come on, she’s your BEST FRIEND (side eye). the two of you are idiots in love.

• the moment she realizes she’s in love with you is on another one of those dates that you both know you don’t have to go on but still choose to have anyway (your ex is already clearly jealous).

• she’s been getting this small tugging feeling with you a lot over these past few months.

• now she finally realizes it’s because she’s in love with you. <33

cassandra cain

childhood best friends to lovers

• growing up, you became adept at reading her body language and expressions, creating a deep, intuitive understanding between the two of you.

• as kids, you both trained together, pushing each other to become stronger and better. these sessions were filled with friendly competition, laughter, and mutual support.

• you two had a secret hideout where you would escape to whenever the world felt overwhelming. it was a place filled with memories, laughter, and dreams for the future.

• whenever she had nightmares or struggled with her past, you were always there to comfort her. your presence became a source of peace and security for her.

• you both shared a love for a watching old martial arts films and cooking together. these activities brought you even closer over the years.

• once she was settled into her new life with the bat family, she reconnected with you over lunch and there was a moment where it all clicked. her heart nearly gave out the moment she saw you walk through the cafe door and smiled at her.

• she was in love with you. she had been for a while now. but back then, she had taken your presence for granted. it was something she just expected to be there. but now? now it was different. now it made sense.

• it was a very natural progression from a friendship to a relationship. she felt safe with you, and she never had to worry about being misunderstood. after everything that she’s been through, you were the person who stood by her through all of it. <33

duke thomas

brother’s best friend

• one thing about you and duke is that you can both take a secret to your grave.

• no one ever finds about him sneaking out of your brother’s room during their weekend sleepovers, to cuddle up to you on your bed.

• no one finds out about the secret dates you go on in the next town over, so that you don’t get caught.

• no one finds out about the secret phones you both use to contact each other.

• if you have to be in the same room together, he’s not even making any eye contact with you. it’s better to ignore each other in public.

• it would be WAY too obvious that the two of you are dating.

• when you guys are seven months into the relationship, cuddling on his bed, he asks "how long do you want to keep us a secret?"

• to which you reply, "not any longer than you want to."

• so yeah, you can both keep a secret– until you decide you want to share it to the world.

• your brother is disgusted, but happy for you. emphasis on disgusted tho. <33

damian wayne

academic rivals to lovers (except he’s been in love with you this whole time)

• damian has always admired you from afar. everything from your biting wit to your competitive spirit always made his heart flutter. falling in love with you was almost inevitable.

• sarcastic, creative remarks as comebacks to one another’s argument, teasing and joking words that lead to banters and bickering.

you: "are you reading?"

damian: "it’s amazing how you have eyes but never see the use of them."

• you don’t know if it’s due to your clashing beliefs and ideas that you two just can’t get along. or is it because he just refuses to do so? eitherway, he still irks you off in multiple ways. even when it’s just the sound of his breathing.

• the two of you compete against each other in terms of being the best among you, as such your relationship is treated as something simply born and made by a competition, an unnatural way to form a connection with another but that’s just how it is.

• the fact that you two work really well when it comes to projects and research is something that can’t be denied. even when there are countless arguments being shared because of differences in opinion, you two still end up getting the work done flawlessly.

• despite everything, there was never a time that you two have touched on a sensitive subject while arguing or have you two have said anything personal and mean that it crossed the line. it’s just some useless and close-to-nothing banters that always occur— becoming a part of your daily routine.

• and of course, the two of you don’t lose your sense of academic "rivalry" when you two start dating. <33

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month ago

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The Imperfect Couple - 11

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

As Bucky stood in front of you, his expression calm, like everything was normal, a surge of anger rose within you. After everything that had just happened—after he spilled details of your private life to the press—you couldn’t believe he had the audacity to act like it meant nothing.

"You thought that telling the press about our marriage would magically make everyone stay quiet? That we’d just be OK?" Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. You watched as his jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

"And now… you’re still keeping secrets." You shook your head, frustration and disbelief coursing through you. "Now it’s about Steve."

Bucky's eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke coldly, "About that. I will bring it to my grave."

His words hit you harder than any blow could have. You stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest, barely able to control the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. "Your grave? That’s your answer?"

You laughed bitterly, though there was no humor in it. "How dare you stand there and act like that’s acceptable? How dare you think you can keep doing this—lying, manipulating, keeping me in the dark—just because you think you’re protecting me?"

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. That silence only fueled your anger further.

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re so used to pulling the strings, making decisions behind everyone’s back, and pretending like it’s all for the greater good. But you’re not saving anyone, Bucky. Least of all me." Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it—hated how much you still cared, despite everything.

He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

"You think after everything I’ve been through with your family, with Steve, that I don’t deserve the truth? That I’m just supposed to trust you after everything you’ve done to me? After you let them destroy me?" Your voice rose, the pain spilling out of you like a flood that had been held back for far too long.

"You didn’t protect me then, and you’re not protecting me now. You're protecting yourself. Because you're scared. You're scared that once I know the whole truth, I’ll finally be done with you."

Bucky’s face was set in stone, but you could see the cracks forming. His silence was loud, deafening, but you weren’t done. You weren’t letting him get away with it this time.

"You think I’m stupid enough to believe that this—whatever this is—is love? You control everything. You manipulate everything around you so that you never have to feel like you’re losing. But you are, Bucky." You stepped back, your chest rising and falling with the weight of everything you were saying. "You’re losing me. Every secret you keep, every lie you tell, you’re pushing me further away."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The room felt too small, the air too thick. Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, but still, he didn’t say a word.

"I’m glad I never got pregnant," you whispered, voice shaking. "I’m glad I never brought a child into this—into your mess. Because no child deserves to grow up with a father like you."

That was the final blow, and you saw it hit him like a punch to the gut. His eyes darkened, and for the first time, Bucky seemed truly shaken. But even then, he said nothing.

The silence between you stretched, unbearable, suffocating. You turned away from him, the weight of your words still hanging in the air, and walked out. Neither of you said anything as you left the room, but you both knew that something had broken between you—something that might never be fixed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the door closed behind you, Bucky stood frozen, your words reverberating through his mind like the relentless echo of a nightmare. "I'm glad I never got pregnant."

That one sentence hit him harder than any punch he'd ever taken, harder than any bullet wound or battle scar. It was as if you had found the one part of him still vulnerable, still aching—the part he had tried so hard to protect—and you had driven a dagger straight into it.

The idea of building a family with you had always been his greatest hope, even if he had never said it out loud. He had pictured it in quiet moments, in the silence of the night when his thoughts wandered. A future with you—a family. The idea of you carrying his child, of starting something new and pure with you, had always been a flicker of light in the darkness that consumed him.

But now, that light was gone.

The bitterness of your words seeped into him, mixing with the sour taste of guilt that had been festering inside him for years. He clenched his fists, staring at the space where you had stood, feeling the weight of everything he had done—or failed to do—crushing down on him.

You’re losing me. Every secret you keep, every lie you tell, you’re pushing me further away.

He had never meant for it to be this way. He had convinced himself, again and again, that the lies, the manipulation, the control—it was all to protect you. To keep you safe from the chaos of his world. But in doing so, he had become the very thing that was destroying you. He was supposed to shield you, to be your safe haven, and yet here you were, crumbling before him because of his choices.

But you are, Bucky. You’re losing me.

The thought of losing you—of you walking away from him for good—was unbearable. He had always believed that no matter what happened, he could somehow fix things, that he could make you see that everything he did, he did out of love. But now, standing in the aftermath of your fury, he realized that he had underestimated just how deep the damage went.

The one dream that had kept him grounded—the thought of a family, a future with you—was now tainted. What was once a vision of hope and happiness now felt sour, like something spoiled and irreparable. The idea of a family with you, once so precious and sacred in his heart, now felt like a bitter reminder of all the ways he had failed you.

And the worst part? He knew it was his fault. He had driven you to this point, pushed you to the edge with his secrets and his selfishness. He had always told himself he was doing it for you, but now he saw the truth: it had been for him. He was terrified of losing control, terrified of losing you, and in trying to hold on too tightly, he had begun to suffocate the very thing he cherished most.

Bucky swallowed hard, the taste of regret sharp on his tongue. He had always been good at compartmentalizing his feelings, at shoving his pain deep down where it couldn’t touch him. But not this time. This time, there was no escaping the ache. The words you had thrown at him had hit their mark with deadly precision, and there was no denying the truth in them.

His Achilles' heel—his desire to build a family with you, to have a life with you—was now the source of his deepest pain. And as much as he wanted to believe he could fix it, that he could win you back, a cold, bitter part of him knew that it might be too late.

For the first time, Bucky felt something he hadn’t in a long time: true helplessness. The kind that gnawed at his chest, leaving a hollow ache behind.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the heated argument with Bucky, you retreated to your room, feeling the weight of the conversation bearing down on you. The tension between you two was suffocating, and you needed to escape—if only for a moment. Grabbing your phone, you called Greg.

“Is there an activity that doesn’t involve me being around Bucky?” you asked, your voice strained.

“After the recent debate, the two of you don’t have many joint schedules. You can pretty much do whatever you want,” Greg replied.

You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “What am I going to do?” you murmured to yourself, feeling utterly lost. Just then, your phone buzzed with a text from Hazel: ‘Can you babysit Nate for a while?’

A smile tugged at your lips, the tension momentarily lifting. Babysitting Nate felt like the perfect distraction. You quickly typed back: ‘Yes.’

An idea struck you. You decided to pick him up from school yourself, giving you something to occupy your mind. Arriving at the prestigious Catholic school, you were struck by its grandeur—stately brick buildings, perfectly manicured lawns, and an imposing church at the center of the campus. You shouldn’t have been surprised; of course, Nate would attend a place like this, surrounded by privilege and tradition.

As you walked through the campus, the sound of bells ringing faintly in the background, your eyes fell on the old church. Its large wooden doors stood open, inviting anyone seeking solace. You hadn’t set foot inside a church in years, and now, as you watched parents filtering in to pray, something stirred within you.

Your gaze shifted to a woman who emerged from a confessional booth, her face serene. She’d just finished her confession, and for some reason, that simple act gripped you. A sudden, overwhelming urge came over you.

Before you knew it, you were standing inside the dimly lit church, walking down the aisle toward the confessional. You hesitated for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door of the confessional booth, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, with a deep breath, you stepped inside and knelt down.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began, your voice shaky. “It’s been five years since my last confession.”

The priest’s gentle voice echoed through the screen. “Go on, child.”

You took a breath, gathering your thoughts. “I don’t even know where to start. The first thing I need to confess is what my ex-husband—no, my husband—has done to me. All this time, I thought I was free. I thought I’d divorced him, that I was my own person again. But it turns out he never finalized the papers. For five years, I’ve believed I was single. And now… now I find out I’m still married to him.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Isn’t that just the cruelest joke?”

You could hear the priest listening in silence, giving you space to speak.

“The worst part is, he lied to me. He kept this truth from me for years, letting me live in ignorance. I feel like such a fool. And now… he’s forced me into this agreement. A contract, of sorts. One year, he says. One year, and then we’ll officially be divorced. I can’t forgive him for this, for manipulating me into this situation.”

Your hands balled into fists as you spoke, your voice trembling. “He’s changed. I don’t like it. He used to be someone I trusted, but now he’s nothing but a man pulling strings behind the scenes, controlling everything.”

The anger surged through you, but beneath it, something else was there—something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I hate myself for agreeing to help him, for pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not. I’m exhausted from lying to myself, from keeping up appearances just to spite his mother. And what’s worse… I still care about him. After everything he’s done, part of me still cares.”

The priest’s voice was calm, gentle. “Child, do you want to quit? To walk away from this?”

You sat there in silence for a moment, your heart heavy with indecision. “No,” you finally whispered, the word almost surprising you. “No, I don’t.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips again. “It’s funny, Father. I’ve always had this strong instinct to run. Whenever I’ve felt like I needed to get out, to escape a situation, that instinct has never failed me. But now? Now I don’t understand. I could've run. I could've leave him, but…”

The priest’s voice cut through your rambling thoughts. “What feelings do you have now?”

You swallowed hard, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “Stay.”

The silence in the booth seemed to echo that single word. You could feel tears prickling at your eyes, the conflict inside you tearing you apart. “I don’t understand it. Every night, when I’m alone, I think about leaving him, and yet, something inside me tells me to stay. I don’t know why.”

The priest spoke softly, a sense of wisdom in his words. “There is a reason for everything, child. But the answer may not be clear to you yet. You must trust in God’s timing.”

“God’s timing,” you repeated, the words feeling foreign in your mouth.

“It’s no coincidence that you are here today,” the priest continued. “There is a purpose to everything, even when we cannot see it clearly. Trust that God is working in your life, even through your confusion and pain.”

“A purpose?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Sometimes, we are placed in situations not for our own understanding, but to fulfill a greater plan. The burdens you carry now may reveal a deeper truth in time.”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over you, even as the conflict within you remained.

The priest offered a simple prayer for guidance and peace, his voice soft and steady.

You whispered, “Amen,” making the sign of the cross as tears silently streamed down your face.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

After confessing, you stepped out of the confessional booth, feeling an unexpected lightness in your shoulders, as though the weight you'd been carrying for years had been lifted, if only for a moment. A faint smile touched your lips, the tension easing. Then, you heard the bell ring—its echo followed by the excited chatter of children ready to go home.

You waited near the entrance, looking out for Nate, but as minutes passed, he still hadn’t appeared. A sense of worry started to creep in. You scanned the crowd of children, but there was no sign of him. Your footsteps quickened as you walked around, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Then, you heard it—a familiar giggle. You followed the sound and froze. Nate was hanging in midair, swinging by his arms as two tall boys, older than him, held him up at the playground.

And then you saw him. Steve Rogers.

You blinked in disbelief, dumbfounded. What is he doing here?

The two boys—tall, blonde, and strikingly familiar—were clearly the Rogers twins, Steve’s sons. Both carried a mix of Steve and Peggy's features, but Steve's strong genes dominated; their blonde hair and sharp jawlines were unmistakably his.

An unsettled feeling stirred in your chest. There was something about those twins that always made you uneasy, though you couldn't quite pinpoint why. And what were high school boys doing, playing with a first-year elementary kid?

“Aunty!” Nate’s cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He had noticed you before you could even call out to him. He wriggled free from the boys and sprinted toward you, his small arms reaching out.

Your heart swelled as he hugged you tightly. Compared to the rest of the Barnes family, being with Nate always felt like a breath of fresh air.

“I missed you,” Nate said, his face beaming up at you.

How could your heart not melt at that?

Before you could respond, the Rogers twins greeted you politely, “Hello, Mrs. Barnes.”

You smiled at them, though unease lingered. “Hi, William. Hi, Charles.”

“You still remember us?” William asked, his voice surprisingly mature.

“Of course. And both of you are so kind, playing with Nate,” you replied, though your eyes remained cautious.

“Well, our families are close partners,” Charles added, patting Nate gently on the head. “And our dad told us to be good role models for this champ.”

“Hehe,” Nate giggled, not fully understanding but clearly enjoying being called a champion.

“See you, buddy,” the twins said in unison, giving Nate a fist bump before heading toward their car.

Then Steve approached you, his expression a mix of surprise and something else, as if he hadn’t expected to see you here.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice calm but with a hint of hesitation.

“Hey,” you replied, crossing your arms instinctively, keeping a certain distance.

Steve glanced at you and then down at Nate, who was busy looking through his backpack. “How are things with you and Bucky?”

Your lips curled into a wry smile. “Sinking ship.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Titanic?”

Before you could respond, Nate, ever the sharp listener, jumped in. “Titanic?” he repeated, drawing a laugh from Steve.

"He's a ray of sunshine." Steve chuckled softly and patted Nate’s head in that gentle, fatherly way that almost made you pause. It seemed that in your absence, Steve had grown closer to Nate, filling in a role you hadn’t even realized was vacant.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you sat in the car with Nate, the bond between you felt like a warmth you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Nate chatted excitedly beside you, his small hands gesturing animatedly as he talked about how happy he was to stay with you.

“Aunty, I missed you so much! It’s been forever,” he said, his smile infectious. “And guess what? I get to stay with Uncle Bucky too!”

Your heart ached a little at the mention of Bucky, but Nate’s joy overrode it, at least for the moment.

“Yeah?” you replied, brushing a hand through Nate’s hair. ��That sounds fun.”

Nate nodded eagerly, and then you remembered the twins. “So, those boys—William and Charles—how do you know them?”

“Oh! I met them on my birthday,” Nate said with excitement. “They and Uncle Steve gave me huge presents. It was so cool!”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” you said, trying to match his enthusiasm.

“Yeah, since then, I’ve had two big brothers,” Nate added with a proud grin. “I always wanted a big brother—or a little brother—or even a little sister,” he said, his tone wistful. “I asked Mom, but she said no.”

He sighed, and you chuckled softly. The memory of meeting Hazel while she was pregnant came to mind. Back then, no one knew who Nate’s father was. Hazel had always kept her lips sealed, refusing to speak about it.

You recalled the heated arguments between Hazel and Caroline. Once, you overheard Hazel snapping, “I already continued the bloodline. I’ve done my duty. I don’t want to get married. Period.”

You had admired her strength, but it also made you realize just how complicated everything had become.

Thinking back, you realized you had never heard of Hazel being in a relationship. With her status and career, she could have any man she wanted. But why was she so close with the Rogers family? What made Steve and the twins come to play with Nate after school?

A curious thought crossed your mind. Could Steve and Hazel have… No, you shook your head, dispelling that notion. It was impossible.

But the curiosity clawed at you. You turned to Nate, your brow furrowed. “Do Uncle Steve and the twins always play with you?”

Nate nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Uncle Steve stood beside me when the doctor injected me,” he said, lifting his sleeve to show you the sore spot on his arm. “Ouchie!”

You chuckled, leaning over to blow gently on the spot, making him giggle. The sound was infectious, yet it tugged at something deeper within you, a swell of guilt rising as you wished you had kept your curiosity in check. Your instincts were telling you something else entirely.

No matter how close family friends could be, it seemed unlikely that someone like Steve would take the time to accompany Nate for his vaccination. Unless…

Nate's eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Oh, and he bought me ice cream and pizza! This is a secret, Aunty.” He glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, his expression filled with mischief.

You chuckled, unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm. “That sounds cool!”

Nate nodded vigorously, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “And the big brothers always ask me to watch them play basketball. They’re so cool!” He raised his arms, mimicking a jump shot, his little face lighting up with joy.

You smiled, “Sounds like a blast.”

“My favorite part is after the game,” he continued, his eyes wide with memory. “We always watch movies and eat caramel popcorn. It’s delicious!” He rubbed his belly dramatically, as if savoring the taste all over again.

“Does Uncle Steve also join in watching movies?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, hoping your instincts were wrong. Your heart raced slightly, and you felt a knot tightening in your stomach at the thought.

“Yes!” Nate replied, his enthusiasm unabated. He practically bounced with joy, his small fists clenched as he hopped in place.

You sighed, feeling a frustration bubbling up. Gosh, you hated your overactive imagination and your inability to suppress your investigative instincts.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

When you arrived home, Bucky was already there. As you stepped inside, he stood up, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer at the sight of you. But before he could speak, Nate rushed forward and hugged him tightly, the excitement radiating off the little boy.

“Uncle Bucky!” Nate exclaimed, squeezing him. Bucky’s face lit up with genuine happiness, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Nate's head.

“Hey there, champ,” Bucky replied, his voice warm and inviting.

“I have to wash my hands and feet first!” Nate announced, darting off toward the bathroom.

With Nate out of the room, the atmosphere shifted, leaving you and Bucky alone. An awkward tension settled between you, thick enough to cut with a knife. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the motion betraying his unease.

“Uhm…” he began, searching for words, his gaze flicking away as if he were weighing his options.

Before he could finish his thought, you interrupted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “What made you want to support a liar like Steve?”

His eyes widened, surprise mingling with a flicker of something else—was it defensiveness? Confusion? The air crackled with unspoken questions, and you felt the tension deepen, a mystery hanging between you, waiting to be unraveled.

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hidtired · 7 months ago

Note

Hey, I love your stories for Daryl Dixon! If you wouldn’t mind I had a request? Daryl and reader have a pre established relationship (met at the querry, got together at the prison, got ‘married’ at some point) of a few years. During the line up, after Daryl hits Negan for killing Abraham, Negan can kind of figure out him and reader are together by matching wedding rings. To punish Daryl, negan can hang the reader until they ‘die’ (stop moving) and cuts her down. After Daryl is taken the group can realize, after being sad for a bit, that the reader is breathing and is alive and bring a her to hilltop. Negan could have put a bag over readers head or something before being hung so that once cut down its harder to tell she’s alive, and they could have even taken a picture of reader hung up to mess with Daryl in his cell. Dual POV. Extra extra angst, and happy ending/reunion when Daryl escapes please! If you could, could it be a few parts long? I understand if you can’t do that or even get to this request at all and that’s 100% okay! Anyways, love your story’s!

Someone cooked here... this is beautifully messed up. So right up my ally!

Hangman

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Y/N Dixon was to be punished for her husbands actions at the line up. Negan decided to do it in style. To have a rope looped for your neck, intended for your death. Daryl watches you hang before being dragged away. But you had still been alive by the time you were cut down.

2.1k words

Warnings (Mentions of suicide, gore, ANGST, violence, injury, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You met Daryl and slowly fell in love with him. Most say they fell in love at first sight. But you? It was slowly then all at once. He was a gruff man, but under that was the most caring person you ever met. You had caught yourself thinking of him differently while on the road after the farm fell. You were friends at the farm, joking and teasing one another.

"You bein' sweet on me?"

You sniffle wiping a tear and punching him in the arm. He had gotten shot by Andrea and had fallin on a bolt while looking for Sophia. The punch hurt your redden knuckles. You had turned and laid Andrea out on the grass. Her cry's of "Did I kill him?!" Sent you to shut her mouth. Your lip wobble trying to not met him eye to eye. Daryl sighed, "Come on girl. No water works for me." He chuckled at the sight, amused to see you so worked up for his sake.

He learned you cared for him that day. He also learned how much he did when everyone was separated after the farm fell. He hugged you. More of shoved you into him practically about to lift you in the air.

“What? Getting sweet on me Dixon?”

It didn’t become romantic until the first night at the prison. Better know to Daryl as ‘THE kiss’. You had finally felt safe for the first time in a while, and you were thinking of him like crazy. So, when he was a little too close and looked down to your lips for a split second… you took action and ran with it. You had grabbed him with both hands and slowly lean into him. Didn’t last long, a peck— a test. He looked taken aback before it clicked and he was kissing you more. Now this moment was better known to you as ‘scarring T-dog’. He had gone to find both of you for dinner and found Daryl pinning you to a wall while making out.

The question of marriage wasn’t proposed as much talked about one late night months into the prisons development. You lay down legs tangled you smiling at him like a fool. The people of the prison loved Daryl. So when a new comer he saved reference to you as Mrs. Dixon it got you feeling a way. “M’ not sure I wanna ask what’s got you all giddy.” You rolled into him more, a dumb smile on your face, “You~”. He raised a brow at you. There were moments when you got all lovey, on him, normally when you were about to start your period. Or ovulating which was a different kind of lovey…

“What do you think about marriage?”

He was not expecting that. He froze thinking of his parents. “Never had a good example of it?” He just didn’t understand the purpose of it. What was to be married? More so with how the world is now. You lean your head against his chest, “I see it as just a promise. To promise myself to you.” He looked down to meet your eyes, “Thought ya were already mine?” You nodded with a smile, “Exactly, I’m already yours. But I would be caring your name as mine.” That is when it sank in, you a Dixon. The Dixons. Them. His hold on you became a little tighter. It would mean everything they already did. He knew the only death could part each other. Thats when you officially became his wife. Later with rings to match.

Till death do us part…

That lead you all to here and now. Face to face to death. Negan, finished with his brutal attack to Abraham. The remainder of what left of him desiccated. Negan swang the bloody bat splattering everyone with blood. His taunting made the hot head that is your husband try and attack him. He landed a crushing blow before getting pinned.

Your POV

It had happened so fast. Daryl was pinned with his own crossbow pointed at his head. The man holding it speaking, “I could end it right here.” You couldn’t even speak, you were shaking. Had a hand to your mouth trying to quiet your sobs. ‘Please don’t kill him… not him.’ Negan had noticed the ring on your finger and took a look to everyone’s face at that moment. He finally turned back to Daryl, “Nah, you don’t kill that. Not unless you try a little first.” A sick smile pulling his lips, “Put him back in line.” He eyed Daryl, “I don’t know what lying pricks you’ve been dealing with but I did say you only get one! No exceptions.” Negan leaned back before slowly turning to you and pointing, “Get her up.” You were swiftly pulled to your feet. Daryl’s voice booming in displeasure. Negan spoke again put to the group surrounding you, “We’ve never done this before! Simon… get the noose.” Some ooos rolled through the crowd.

Negan turned back to Rick. Daryl still wiggling free to help you. “See Rick I don’t like the look in your eye. Any of your eyes, you just don’t seem to get it!” It was Michonne voice urgent as she witnessed them set up the rope in a tree, “W-we get it. You don’t have to do that-“ Negans voice booming with amusement, “Oh I know you do but I did say no exceptions.” He turned his gaze to Daryl at the mention.

You were to be made as an example. To everyone but also for Daryl’s action. You couldn’t blame him for attacking him. He was a sick man doing horrendous things… and with a smile on top of it. You watched the rope go over a branch and someone put a wooden box down under the hanging rope.

You remember finding your Uncle hanging from a pipe in the garage. You were 8. The corners office stated he was hanging there for half a hour before he died, cause of death asphyxiation. The height he fell from didn't break his neck. The height of the box to the tree wasn’t high enough either.

Daryl was cursing and spitting threats as they dragged you to stand on the box. “I’LL KILL YOU, TOUCH HER AND I’LL KILL YOU!!!” But as the rope was looped around your head those threats turned to please, “No— PUNISH ME! IT WAS ME! NOT HER-“ He was crying and you looked on while he thrashed around. You smiled to him. You were scared sure, whether you were going to die fast or slow going through your mind.

Tears tracked down your face but you had stopped crying and had a look that could kill. Negan only seemed cheerful as always taking notice to your calming demeanor. You looked on to everyone on their knees as they stare at you with pure panic. You saw Rick’s hand shaking, mouth periodically opening to say something but he had nothing to say to get you out of this. Daryl had stopped thrashing and was looking to you with a face that pained you. He was pale from blood loss, eyes brimming with tears.

Your vision was blocked by a bag that was thrown over your head. You could slightly see through the fabric. Your heartbeat was in your ears. Negan had now come to stand next to you, “Now there is a new world order. You have shit I want so you give it to me or you could join— Hell her name?” You hear a savior state your name. “Ahh Y/N here… So let’s get this crystal clear for all of you now. You all belong to me.” He turned to you, “Any last words?”

You took a deep breath, “See you in hell.”

He chuckled. It was silent for a moment, air filled with anticipation. “Hope I don’t keep you waiting-“ He kicked that wooden box out from under you.

You felt gravity pulling you to the ground. Then the feeling of the rope tighten around your throat. Your ears picking up on the sounds of yelling and crying from your family. You had bobbed like a fish on a line. You put your hands to the rope on your neck. Struggling to breathe. Your body thrashing dangling from the tree. It wasn’t until you tilted your head back you got a little air. The noose didn’t seem to close all the way. Inside your mind yelled one thing, ‘go slack’. You slowly released your hands from the rope dangling with the rest of you. Soon after stopping any movement despite your body wanting to. You felt a pressure in the back of your eyes. The lack of sufficient oxygen making you feel like you were spinning. And the growing pain radiating around your neck was something you’ve never felt before. Like you were dying.

Negan had been talking throughout you struggling. But you hadn’t the mind to listen. It was Daryl’s sobs you recognized. He sounded like he was getting pulled away with the sounds of a heavy door slamming. A flash of light came through the bag on your head, click of a camera soon followed after. Negan talked again before you felt gravity pull you again. He had cut you down. You flopped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You felt the wind get knocked out of you. Whatever wind you had left anyways. It took you a second before your first real breath came to you. But you try to remain still, to play possum.

You still remained there on the floor, yelling in your mind to stay awake. Coming up with anything to remain conscious like, math problems or names of your childhood pets. You had the feeling like you were on choppy water. Swaying back and forth on a boat. The deafening silence pulled you from your mind. Maybe you had died? But you decided you needed to move.

Group POV

Everyone was still after the saviors left. The first shuffling of gravel was Glenn moving to his wife after snapping out of the shock. His movement snapping everyone out of it to. Maggie clung to him while sobbing, emotionally and physically distressed. The sound of groaning and raspy noises made them all turn to you. It was Rick who spoke, “She turned…” You body propped up on hands and knees. They looked on before it was Carl moved to put you down, everyone else had even yet to move before him. Carl only got a few steps before you pulled the bag off your head.

Everyone froze again. Your fist clenching around the rope still around your neck. The chocking noises and tears sounds as you struggle with moving, “Holy shit she’s still alive!” Aaron had ran past Carl to then kneel beside you. Removing the rope from you revealed a line of black and purple around your neck. The rest had made their quick approach to you in disbelief. You were clawing at anyone next to you, you were in pain and didn't know who to act other then to wither. One hand still to your throat. Your eyes were blood red and the noise you made while attempting to breathe was high and liquidy.

Sasha had moved up behind you looping her arms behind yours, “Quick we need to get her to Hilltop! Maggie to!” Michonne moving for your legs to carry you to a truck the saviors left. Glenn helping Maggie into the passengers seat. Eugene began to list facts about being hanged like, 'it takes 10-20 minutes before a person died. You had been hung by a 'suspension hanging' but the height you fell from wasn't sufficient enough. The Saviors lack of knowledge had saved your life.' It was mostly a nervous habit to provide the information, a sort of coping. He was watching Rick and Aaron put Abraham's body in the back on the truck bed.

Maggie yelled to support your head to Sasha who you laid onto. You were still fighting unconscious, tears streaming down your red eyes. Glenn slipped into the drivers seat. Maggie speaking out the windows, "We got her. Get back to Alexandria. Plan to kick those monsters in the ass." Just like that they were off to hilltop.

The rest stood to see the car go off into the distance. Still shaken but the littlest bit more relieved you hadn't died in the worse way imageable in front of them. When they finally got back in the RV to go back home Rick just couldn't help but spot the noose on the ground from the review.

Daryl had no clue about you getting back up from that monstrous act.

Part 2

Feedback welcome and requests always open and encouraged!

(If you or a loved one are suffering and having thoughts of suicide please seek help. You are wanted and loved. Its cheesy but true when people say it gets better.)

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd daryl #angst #fluff

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noceurous · 2 months ago

Text

lights, camera, action

your boyfriend gets his hands on a handycam, later on you

warnings: mentions of divorce, mentions infidelity, Dave’s family is also mentioned, some self-doubt and angst, looots of feelings (sorry idk what took over me ehehe), swearing, smut: fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), p-in-v sex, slapping, daddy kink, usage of various nicknames (baby, darling, etc) minors dni (18+) reader is able bodied + has some length of hair + afab.

a/n: my birthday is officially on 10th of september, but this fic turned out to be longer than i expected, so i said post it with a fic you feel good.

a/n2: this fic takes place in the same universe with [take the heat away, make the girl stay] but they can be read separately.

Carol was a really nice woman after the divorce.

It was nice of her to call you a homewrecker, among many other names.

It was nice of her to fill Molly and Alice’s heads with wrong ideas about you.

It was nice of her to call Dave in the middle of your date and tell him that he’ll come back crawling back to her after he’s done with you. just like the girls before and made sure you heard it.

Lastly, it was nice for Carol to send all of his belongings to your tiny apartment. You didn’t even know how she got your address. Just after a simple ring of the doorbell, you were standing between piles of light brown boxes.

“Shit, did she really do that too?” Dave asked over the phone as you stood inside the labyrinth made of boxes.

“Yep, what’s left of your relationship is now inside my living room.” You said as you eyed over the boxes. Trying to find out if your relationship was enough to fill one box.

“They’re mostly clothes, family photos and Father’s Day gifts. There is nothing left of the relationship.” You were familiar with the last sentence. Dave used that to reassure you during the beginning of your relationship.

He also used that sentence to girls, and Carol. When any one of them accused you of breaking them up.

“Yeah, probably. I’m gonna take a shower. When will you be back?”

“Fifteen minutes tops. Do you want anything?”

“No, just you.” His chest hurt when he heard how your voice cracked before you ended the phone call.

He hated Carol when she did that. Blaming you for everything went wrong in the marriage. Taking her anger out on you, when in truth you came into him long after he decided on a divorce.

—

“Darling? I’m home.” He didn’t hear your reply, but the water sound came from the bathroom.

He took off his long coat, his keys still in his hand when he walked towards the living room. Greeted with a pile of boxes. He couldn’t imagine how you felt when a box after a box came into your place. He would call Carol again, but he knew pretty well whatever he said to stop her, just would fuel Carol’s anger.

He raised his key, slashing and opening one right through the tape with it.

Fake plastic trophy of being the Best Dad Ever, broken hand painted coffee mugs, a photograph in a frame from Alice’s first soccer game.

He went through some of the boxes more. As he assumed they were mostly clothes and stuff related to girls. Mainly photo albums which were half empty since Carol only sent him photos he was included. Nothing more.

When he was going over his last box, something silver at the corner of the box caught his eye. When he took it out, he was greeted with an old handycam.

“No way.” He smiled as he took it out. Shocked when he found out it was still charged.

He heard your footsteps when you came towards him, wrapped a towel around your body and another one around your head.

“What is that?” You walked towards him, the scent of your shower gel filling his nostrils.

Orchids.

“That’s my old handy-cam. Got stuck between stuff, still works.”

He explained as he checked if there were any pre saved videos. He remembered using it for Alice’s school plays and Molly’s soccer practice. Half remembering that he already saved them to Carol’s computer.

He pressed on the record button, when he saw the red blinking light he raised the camera to you.

“What are you doing!” You chuckled, covering your face.

“Recording my lovely girlfriend.”

“I’m in a towel.” He shrugged, still keeping the camera on you.

“That’s better.” He said as he zoomed on your legs, slowly lifting the camera to your body. “Don’t be shy. Camera loves you.”

“Is it the camera? Or is it my horny boyfriend?”

“Both. Give me something baby, come on.” You rolled your eyes, blew a kiss and winked at the camera.

“That’s better.” He said as he placed his hand on your towel, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could understand his next move, he tugged the towel down, watching it pool around your ankles.

“Dave!” You protested, hands covering your breasts.

“Don’t be shy honey. This is just for me. Show it to me.” You huffed, placing your hands at your waist. Sticking out your chest more as he pointed the camera at your breasts, recording every inch for you.

He licked his lips at your sight. “I’m a lucky bastard aren’t I?”

“Try the luckiest.”

He chuckled, motioning you to the couch. “Take a seat.” You rolled your eyes, swinging your ass as you walked towards the couch. You knew he was zooming in there.

He whistled, “That’s my girl” as he followed you. Sitting further from you on the coffee table. “Open your legs for me, come on.” The sight of your glistening pussy was on camera, Dave’s hand was slightly shook, blurring the view for a second. He tried to play it like he was affected less from the sight of you than he actually was.

“Hmm, you’re wet baby.” You smirked at the camera, slowly nodding. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did.” You pressed your fingers on your lips, spreading them to show him your swollen clit covered in your silk. “See? It’s all for you.”

He felt his pants tighten, he didn’t even find the time to take off his tie since he got back. Now you were standing all naked for him, showing off your perfect body. And he had too much clothes on to feel you on his skin.

“Be a good girl, play with yourself for me. But don’t cum.” He said as he slowly placed the camera on the coffee table. Angling it to the perfect angle.

Your eyes were looking into his eyes, as he clicked his tongue pointing at the camera. “Eyes on the camera baby.” You swallowed down your whimper. Thumb pressed onto your clit, feeling your walls clench around nothing.

You pushed a finger inside you, moaning at your wetness. You closed your eyes, for a second, your other hand was on the cushion, grasping it tightly.

You started moving your finger, in and out, playing with your clit then back in. “Open your eyes.” You opened them, seeing Dave in front of you, behind the camera.

He was naked, his cock in his hand, slowly pumping himself. You could tell he was rock hard, it was painful for him not to touch you. “See what you’re doing to me?” You gulped, nodding quickly.

“Add another finger.” You did as he said, your toes curled, walls clenching around your fingers. You didn’t have to look down to know your juices were dripping down on your couch, making a mess.

You continued to finger yourself slowly, eyes locked on the red light on the camera. You could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, trying to hold it as long as possible.

Your whimpers filled his ears, his eyes locked at the way your naked chest came up and down. Each second it became harder for him to not feel you on his skin. You were a sight for his sore eyes, all he carved for his life.

“Show me.” He said as he knelt between your legs. You took your fingers out of your pussy, the wet sound of it crying made both of you moan.

Your fingers were glistening with your juices, you took them inside your mouth, sucking off your juices.

His warm breath fanning your weeping pussy. He quickly hooked your legs on his shoulders. Diving into your pussy, drinking your juices right from your core.

Your body trembled as his warm tongue touched you. Drawing long strokes with the tip of his tongue. “Oh Fuck!” You said as your hand went back to cushion. Supporting yourself as Dave continued to lick over your folds aggressively.

He raised his face, his lips and chin covered with your juices. The corner of his lips raised into a smirk. “You taste so good.” He said before he dove back in. Sucking down your clit.

You smirked at the camera, hand going to your breast. “Fuck! Dave! You are so good!” You pinched down your swollen nipple. Pulling him closer to your core by pressing your ankles on his back.

He pushed a finger inside you, eyes pointed up to your blissed face. You were looking right at the camera just like he told you. His pretty girl always followed his orders without making him give them twice.

“Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” You were chanting out as he was brutally fucking you with his finger. His lips on your thigh, kissing along the soft flesh, pressing his teeth on your inner thigh.

He pushed another finger inside. “Are you going to cum?” You looked down at him, eagerly nodding.

“May I? Please daddy, I’ve been so close.” He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Earning a loud moan from you. “Please.”

Who was he to deny you from pleasure?

“Cum for me.” He said as he sucked your clit once more, fingers still moving inside you. Your body shook when he brushed along your sweet spot. Pads of his fingers pressing on it just right. “Fu—“ Your body jolted backwards, your mind went blank as the white pleasure surrounded your body.

You were panting heavily, as he got up between your legs slowly, his hand wrapped around his cock. Fingers shining with your juices. Your mouth watered with the sight. You wanted him. You wanted more.

With the dark look in his eyes, you knew he wanted the same. “Get on the floor. On your hands and knees.”

You got in the position like he asked, shaking your ass a little when you got on your knees. He slapped you harshly causing you to fall on your hands. Your lips parted, showing him one of his favorite views; your ass in the air, your hole greedily waiting for him.

He pressed his tip on your entrance, “Look at the camera, don’t close your eyes, or I’ll stop.” You knew this was more of a statement than a threat. Before you could say something he gradually pushed himself inside of you, letting go of his breath when he reached your limit. His cock twitched inside you when your walls welcomed him inside.

“Oh.” You moaned at feeling full, still sore from his fingers. Your pussy greedily accepting him, already addict to the sweet pain.

He could see your glossy, lustful gaze thanks to the camera. Cursing himself for not thinking this sooner. Not thinking of saving these moments of you. Not starting saving anything he could save from you.

He placed his hands on your waist. Getting his momentum as his hips started slapping against your ass, not wasting any time with being gentle. Today was not one of his gentle, love making days. He needed you. He needed to take what was his.

He was not having a great time at work. Now he also had to handle Carol and stop her from attacking you.

He had to protect you and he had no objection to that. If it was allowed, he would tear up the limbs of anyone who dared to hurt you. It does not have to be physical abusive, just a simple word was enough to get him violent. There was nothing in this world that would stop him to protect you.

You were his purpose in life, his guiding light.

“Please.”

Your crying voice turned him back to reality, his eyes snapped back to the camera from your shaking ass. Your eyes teared from pleasure, thin layer of sweat covering your cheeks.

“Yes?”

“Please cum inside me. I missed feeling your cum inside. I’ve been empty for days.”

He had some stuff to take care of in Denmark. Unfortunately his little business trip took longer than he expected. So all you were able to do were some quick calls and exchanging text messages. Whispers of “I miss you” were exchanged as you bit your tongue not to say “I love you” too soon.

“Baby…” He said, getting faster than before, chasing his pleasure. You moaned, when he pushed in a bit too hard. Your hand stopped you from falling forward. Forehead almost hit the coffee table.

He cursed his ignorance, wrapping his arm around your neck, leaning over figure. He pressed his lips on your sweet spot behind your ear, feeling your body tremble between his arms. He nudged your temple with the tip of his nose, taking in your smell.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, eyes locked with yours on the screen.

“You look so good, baby. I feel how you tighten around me, you want to cum again don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

“You want me to make you?”

“Ye—yes...” His hand went to your clit from your waist, flicking it rapidly. “F—fuck! D—dave!”

“Go on, come all over my cock baby! Fuck you’re milking me so good.” He slapped your ass, grabbing a handful of the soft flesh before whispering to the shell of your ear. “You want me to cum inside don’t you? Fill you right to the brim?”

He groaned at how your walls tighten around him with your question. “Yes! Fuck yes! Please fill me up. I’ll do anything, please.” He sucked a bruise your neck, his hot breath from his nose fanning on your throat.

“If you really want to…” He said as he spurted out his cum inside you, pressing down on your swollen clit. Holding your body with his arm still wrapped around your neck as it trembled with your orgasm.

“Dave!” Your voice shook as you tried to keep yourself up. Feeling his hot cum spill inside you. He turned your head to the side, smashing his lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss, opening your mouth for his tongue to enter. Your salty taste on his tongue as he sucked yours.

Taking everything you offered to him.

He slowly took himself out, some of his cum spilled out from your hole. He tsked, gathering them with his fingers and pushing them back in. You hissed with the contact, looking over your shoulder to him.

“I’ll send someone tomorrow, to take care of the boxes. I don’t want you to worry about them.” You nodded, as he lied down next to you. Pulling your naked body to lie on his naked chest. You buried your head on his chest, kissing right above where his heart his.

You took the camera from the table, stopping the recording. You smiled at the video, thinking how better you looked than you guessed.

“Like a true temptress.” Dave said, as he buried his nose in your hair, his fingers drawing circles on your upper arm.

“Can I keep a copy as well?”

“Anything you want darling.” He said as he kissed you, slowly moving you to his lap between kisses. “Anything for you.”

—

The next morning Dave’s men came to collect the boxes. And Carol had an anonymous email in her inbox with no subject.

It was a small photo where Dave was eating you out. When she scrolled down, she saw your text added underneath.

Mine, back off.

Needless to say, the email disappeared a few minutes later it was read, without leaving any trace.

—

please provide comments/reblogs if you liked this fic. they always mean a lot 💙

#dave york #dave york smut #dave york oneshot #dave york fluff #dave york angst #dave york x you #dave york x reader #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york x y/n

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locke-esque-monster · 2 months ago

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I got real nervous they were doing Lila x Five really early in the season. It wasn't even explicitly stated, it was just a feeling from how they were setting up and framing things. Lila disagreeing with Diego and going to talk to Five. Lila keeping secrets from Diego that Five knew about. The tension of Five covering for Lila to Diego. Lila's dissatisfaction with her relationship with Diego and asking for a break. Without actively being romantically into Five, it kept setting up the narrative for Lila to leave Diego and Five was all tied in with what she was going to as an alternative to Diego. Add that to the promo pics with them together - even having watched it later and avoided spoilers I had a real bad feeling where this was going long before 4x5. (Or at least avoided until I already had my theory - my phone helpfully suggested an article days before I got to 4x5. I was not pleased to say the least.)

But there's a lot of reasons I take issue with this pairing and how it was done, so Christ, I guess let's get started:

Five explicitly stated in season 3 that Lila is not his type.

Five murdered Lila's parents. Sure, on the Handler's orders. But you think it's easy to have a romantic relationship when you know those hands killed your parents (aka my biggest critique of Tony/Bucky shippers in the MCU).

Five is indirectly responsible for the Handler's death. He saved everyone but her when he time traveled back. Sure, Lila was upset with her, but this woman raised her. She's got to have some complicated feelings about that and Five is all wrapped up in them now.

Five also had a weird relationship with the Handler, where she was a little flirty with him, which was all kinds of uncomfortable. Lila briefly mimicked this in season 3, which was even more uncomfortable. It's unclear if this was deliberately copying her "mother" or not. But adding Five and the Handler's complicated relationship on top of the other issues means there's a whole carousel of baggage to unpack here.

Five has always seemed kind of annoyed or tolerant of Lila, which extended into early this season. It's maybe a hair kinder at the start of season 4, but definitely not where it should be if there's potential here. It'd be one thing if they were friends after 6 years, but their relationship hasn't substantially changed at the start of this season to suggest otherwise.

If you have to do an all musical montage to show 2 characters falling in love, I'm sorry, you're not doing this right. That's telling, not showing. These characters have had tons of interactions to build off of. If you can't do that, then you're effectively saying that you have no foundation for this relationship.

Also, if it takes 6 1/2 years of being each others sole companions under adverse conditions for you to get together - maybe you shouldn't be together. It's one thing if it's treated like "Finally" or "Oh I didn't think you also felt this way". It's another if it's like it's a new idea entirely - that suggests loneliness and a desire for companionship and they're you're only option.

Five's history includes him having a pseudo-romantic relationship with a mannequin when he's left alone in the apocalypse at 13. The next time he's separated from his family for years he's with Lila. I'll allow that it makes sense he developed feelings for her specifically because of his history. That said, that makes this a wholly unhealthy relationship when he has a history like that. Lila is filling a gap Five's psyche has clung to before in similar harrowing times.

Frankly, the fact Lila was first looking for excitement out of her home life and is now upset she can't get back to her family isn't a good headspace either. (I'm also deeply frustrated that Lila feels trapped at home. Lila is so capable and she has a buttload of family members who apparently can take their children on a whim during all this chaos. You're telling me she couldn't have found a better outlet to work on their marriage or get some freedom before it got to this point of lying to Diego?)

Five is volatile and Lila is unpredictable. They're nothing but a menace to practically every other character they meet, including each other. But once they're a couple, they're perfectly pleasant the whole time. I don't buy it. The only fight they have is when Five lied to her. I'm not saying they can't be sweet. But this is all sweetness. For me to buy this couple they need to lovingly bicker. Instead, they've both had personality transplants.

So they decide to go back to the greenhouse after 6 years 5 months and 2 days. Five admits to having the book 5 or 6 months on their 7th anniversary of being lost. Let's be generous and assume they kissed within a couple days of getting to the greenhouse, because they look reasonably settled. That means that best case, Five decided that after being in a relationship for less than 2 months, he was going to throw his whole family away and run away with Lila. That is a hell of a lot of commitment for a short relationship.

And keep in mind, it's not like their family is safe. Last they heard, they hadn't solved the Cleanse. So they're either actively in danger or dead. Five - The man who spent 45 years trying to save his family. Who survived decades in the apocalypse alone (minus Delores the mannequin) and murdered his way through time for the chance to get back and save them - is going to let his family die for a 2 month relationship. I call bullshit.

Also, I will give Five credit that he tried to stay on task during the fight with the Cleanse. He only seemed to fight in retaliation for Diego - he actively looked towards the fight at least once before Diego pulled his attention. But you're telling me he's ready to keep fighting Diego and is threatening to kill him over Lila? That his powers only work correctly after 7 years of having them back because Lila begged him? I once again call bullshit.

And Five was going off to mope alone and never come back and potentially let his family die from an active threat, all because Lila didn't pick him? That is not the Five I know.

I also feel like we maybe did all this arc to get Lila to the point where Five has to convince her to stay because no one else could even if she hates him for it, but still get her family on the train to get the planned ending. And that feels very clunky and I hate it.

Outside of plot lines - it is a bit disturbing to me that we're pairing up an actor whose barely an adult with a woman 15 years his senior - practically old enough to be his mother. This is a aside from the fact he's a what, 71 year old man internally at this point and Lila (if we assume even living at the commission she's a similar age to Diego) is in her early 40s by the time she kisses a physically mid-20s Five. There's so much about that I am not okay with I don't even know where to start.

I also hear the writers wanted a romance for Five. First, okay, then have a longer season. Develop a character for Five earlier on in the season or the show you can pair him with. God knows with that history and age issues it'll be tricky. But also frankly - why? Why does Five need a romantic love interest? He's been fueled by the love of his family and that's done so many impressive things out of love for them. Not everyone needs a romantic love of their life to find happiness and it feels very heteronormative (is that the word I want?) that we need to have that for Five. Give Five an apocalypse-free world and his family alive and then we can see what happiness he can find.

#anti lila x five #tua critical #lila pitts #lila hargreeves #five hargreeves #tua #tua spoilers #tua s4 spoilers #tua s4 #tua season 4 spoilers #tua season four spoilers #tua season 4 #tua season four #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy

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homisexual11 · 9 months ago

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Jalice X Reader NSFW Alphabet

How I’m supposed to do this? I don’t know, homie. But I’ll figure it out.

Warnings: mentions of vampirism, and mentions of blood… the usual. overstimulation

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Both of them are so good at it, and are such sweethearts. Beware, you will be coddled like crazy. Running a bath for you, then changing you into warm clothes (because they’re both fucking freezing)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

They love all of you. But… Alice loves your lips, and Jasper likes your thighs. Alice’s reasoning is a bit less SFW, but she genuinely likes the shape of them and how they look. She also likes what you can do with them, but anyways… Jasper genuinely likes lying on your thighs innocently.

Alice likes her eyes, she likes the way they look on her, and what she can do to you with them…

Jasper likes his fingers because he knows how well he can please both of you with them. Man is good with his hands. (As seen in the gif— yes that is the entire reason I added it)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It takes quite a while for both of them to orgasm, vampire stamina and all that… and genuinely they could go at it for hours, but they normally stop after one with themselves. For you, my love, they will overstimulate you to no end.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Alice is actually surprisingly dominant… but because of the fact that Jasper is nervous to be out of control she normally just lets it go. But when you come around, it becomes less a secret.

Jasper wouldn’t mind if you called him sir, but doesn’t want to weird you out. (Help he’s so sweet)

Also both of them might like to see you cry from pleasure but—

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

They had obviously done it with each other before you, and before then Jasper had done it a couple times with Maria…still that was more to get her off than him, gotta love that. It’s not the worst thing she did. (Ima leave that at that)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Alice likes to sit on your face.

Jasper likes to SEE your face. He will do pretty much anything, though.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It can be a little silly… like a quite a few giggles. It can also be serious, but it’s very silly most of the time.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I don’t know why but I can’t do this to save my life 😭 it makes me uncomfortable but I can write like backbreaking earth shattering smut and somehow not this.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Although it’s very silly, Jasper 100% refers to it as making love. He’s very into it, it’s very loving and mostly gentle with him. Alice can join, but she does whatever feels better for you in the moment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Never really happens. Jasper definitely doesn’t, and Alice never really has the need to.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation, said it once, will say it again.

Orgasm denial every now and then

Obviously multiple people (but will do it separately, either she and him, you and him, or you and her)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

A bedroom, it’s simple. They’re simple like that.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dirty talk for both of them. Also Jasper likes seeing both of you in his clothes? Take that as you will.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that physically hurts. Blood play, for obvious reasons. Also Jasper would probably not want to do it before marriage, but might be convinced?

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both. Both of them love both. They both do it so well, too.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

For Alice it depends, but for Jasper it’s normally slow and sensual… unless something’s pissed him off, which he normally won’t fuck you if that’s the case but if he does you’re in for a wild ride (literally and figuratively)

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Alice will do it, she’s the more progressive of the two on almost anything. Jasper prefers not, but if you really needed it he would.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

With anything that wouldn’t hurt you, yeah. That limits it a little bit, but still.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Obviously they could go for weeks on end, but they normally only do one or two for them. Once again, on you they will go at it until you beg them to stop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No, but if you had them they could be used.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Alice can be a tease, but she doesn’t always do it. Jasper could, and boy would it bother you, but he normally doesn’t.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Neither of them are very loud, because they held their breath if you were human… if you weren’t, they would let a couple sounds slip. They also learned to keep quiet so people wouldn’t know as easily, but one time you were giving Jasper head and he whimpered so much because no one was in the area—

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One of the best experiences with all of you together was when you went down on Alice as Jasper took you from behind. Yall did the exact same thing for a long time that night…

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I don’t know how to do this for Alice 😭 but Jasper is average but he’s a little thicker. (Help that made me uncomfortable to write)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Alice’s is higher than Jaspers, but Both are very low.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

They don’t sleep.

#anyways #twilight #twilight saga #twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #twilight headcanons #jalice #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale #alice cullen #alice cullen x reader #Jalice x reader

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everylastbird · 7 months ago

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I've been thinking of a soulmates style au wherein hualian discover they are soulmates after XL saves HC as a child.

In this AU meeting your soulmate is incredibly rare and very auspicious, so even though HC is a commoner he is recognized as XL's future spouse and taken into the care of the royal family, but sequestered away from XL to maintain decorum. They see each other now and again, and interact during events and gatherings, but otherwise are kept separated. HC is delighted and pines and generally dreams of the day he gets to officially marry XL and be his wife.

(I like to personally use the term 'wife' in danmei specifically to mean 'the spouse that marries into the home of the other', so as he is marrying into XL's home, he would be the bride in this scenario.)

XL ascends, as in canon. Unlike in canon, when a soulmate ascends, so too does your soulmate, and HC ascends with XL.

XL also descends and falls from godhood, as in canon. Ever so magnanimous, JW ~kindly~ allows HC to stay in heaven upon XL's request, as HC didn't break any rules. HC is, however, bound to the heavens, unable to descend to seek out XL.

Centuries pass, and HC becomes known as a God of constancy, faithfulness, and marriage. He is regarded with both awe and pity. Poor HC, who remains loyal to a faithless god of misfortune. Isn't it incredible, how much he is willing and able to endure to uphold the sanctity of his marriage vows? He has a large faction of worshippers, mostly brides and wives in arranged, unhappy marriages, who pray to him for strength.

Few, if any, remember that Xianle fell before HC had the chance to marry XL. That all this time he has remained steadfast and true to his fiancé, rather than his husband. The gods that do look upon him with scorn and judgment. No one expects him to remain loyal to the likes of XL, so who does he think he is putting on this show for?

It doesn't matter what those gods, or even what his worshippers think of him, however. HC is loyal to XL out of love, and devotion. He is not suffering out of obligation. His only pain is that felt by his fiancé, and the pain of separation forced upon him.

And despite what the gods and his worshippers assume, he is not a long-suffering bride who sits and pines for his beloved. While he yearns for the day he can reunite with XL, HC spends his time playing the long-con. After all, is the keeping of house and home not one of the primary roles of any good wife? And the heavens are so steeped in filth. Certainly not worthy of his husband to be.

As for XL, he strives and toils to regain his godhood under the weight of his lost worshippers and the scorn of the gods who once praised him.

More than that, he worries, often, about HC, and his misplaced loyalty. Every now and then XL hears another tale of HC's endless, unshakeable loyalty, but with those tales also come stories of that devotion being nothing more than a shackle. Nothing is ever said of HC's love for his husband, or HC's happiness, only his impressive endurance in the face of obligation to a worthless husband. XL fears that HC is little more than a long suffering would-be bride, held back by XL's mistakes and the fate that bound them together without either of their say.

So XL does his best to regain his godhood, so that he may re-enter heaven and finally free HC from himself for good.

When, after 800 years, XL finally ascends once again, nothing is as he had expected it to be. There is a crowd, but no one is casting judgment or disparaging him. Instead, it seems as though he has ascended amidst the start of a lavish celebration.

As XL stands amidst a sea of joyful revelry, a procession slowly makes its way towards him, and at its end, a bridal sedan.

When the sedan stops before him and a hand moves aside its curtain, XL reaches out to grasp it without thinking. Gently, he leads the bride off of the sedan and onto solid ground.

XL looks up at a veil of opaque crimson silk. He cannot see the face behind it, does not even know, after all this time, what HC would even look like... But in this moment he knows, unquestionably, that this is not just any bride, but his bride.

Part of XL recalls that one of his main reasons to rise to godhood again was to let HC go, to finally allow him freedom from the weight of being tethered to someone like XL. And yet, any thoughts of breaking his vows to HC dry up in his mouth. He has thought of so many ways to say it, so many ways to cut HC loose of him without bringing HC any more pain, but he cannot bring himself to say any of them.

The hand in his grasp turns, and laces their fingers together. His bride's hand is strong, XL observes as though from a distance, unflinching and sure.

"Hello, gege," HC says. His voice is deeper than XL remembers, richer and more vibrant than anything he has experienced for decades, if not centuries.

"Ah, San Lang, I'm sorry, " he manages to force out through his shock. His laugh is pitchy and uneven even to his own ears. "I'm afraid I'm not quite prepared...!"

"It's okay, gege." A thumb carasses his knuckles tenderly, and XL's throat tightens. "I already have everything ready for us."

#hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #take this drabble i wrote in my notes app during lunch break that went off the rails #i got gripped by the thought of XL ascending into the midst of a wedding procession only for him to realize it was *his* wedding and #couldnt control myself #given that this is almost 1000 words i really may clean this up and make a proper fic of it

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crosshairlovebot · 6 months ago

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falling for mr. batchbury / hunter x f!reader

pairing: hunter x f!reader

description: your feelings for Mr. Batchbury blossom as he and his brothers train on your father's estate before they go off to war. During his stay, you realise just how deep your feelings for him go, and maybe, just how much he feels for you too.

REGENCY AU

word count: 6,767

warnings: none. kissing. pining. secret crushes. love confessions.

i have loved the regency romance genre for such a long time, and i was struck with this idea and simply needed to realise it. this was SO fun to write. a good challenge, but mostly just an absolute delight. i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

PART ONE

Naval Officer Lieutenant Hugo ‘Hunter’ Batchbury had always been the kind of man who stood out in a crowd – whether he liked it or not. Not only did he sport a unique birthmark the rich colour of port wine across one side of his face, but his roguish handsomeness coupled with his taciturn air had every debutante of the ton vying for his attentions and hand in marriage.

It was vexing.

It was vexing for you, at least, to watch society fawn over the man who had held your heart for more than half a decade. He had been your secret – no one knew of Mr. Batchbury until after the Napoleonic Wars when he and his band of misfit brothers returned from sea.

Society relished in the gossip that the Batchbury family had made their fortune in the war. The tale of their enlisting was scintillating and circled the ton’s social circles like wildfire, whispers in every ballroom and gentleman’s club. Having initially enlisted in the Royal Navy to support their younger sister and save her from a life of destitution, Mr. Batchbury and his brothers moved through the ranks swiftly with the acquisition of prizemoney – their ship infamous for capturing many enemy ships, never losing a battle.

They were heroes in every sense of the word.

But you knew it before anyone else.

Your first encounter with the Batchbury family was when they arrived at your father’s estate for training with nearly nothing but the clothes on their backs. It was a highly irregular practice, but your empathetic father, a commodore of the Royal Navy, had allowed the Batchbury Brothers and their sister to stay with your family as they trained so they would not be separated from their younger sibling, who was but 13 years old with no other known family.

You and your mother had greeted them all upon arrival, politely welcoming them.

They’d stepped out of the carriage one by one, the tallest and broadest of them first. You wondered how he’d fit inside the coach. Then the spectacled one, then the grey-haired one and then Mr. Batchbury, with his long hair and facial birthmark. You remembered taking in a breath at the sight of him in all his glory. With his brown skin and dark curls blowing in the morning breeze, you were already taken with him, but that only increased tenfold when you watched him turn to help his sister down from the carriage, lifting her from under her armpits and setting her down next to him. You’d been unable to hide your smile when you watched him take his sister's hand in his.

“Hello,” was all he’d said, inclining his head politely before his eyes moved across your mother and then met yours, lingering there.

You were smitten.

You barely remember what words were exchanged between your father and mother and the Batchburys. Just their names. William, Thomas, Carlisle, Hugo, and Meg. You remember curtsying politely when you were introduced, your face hot as you met Mr. Batchbury’s gaze with a small smile. You also remember the whole interaction was slightly awkward and stilted; the Batchbury Brothers unsure of how to accept your family’s generosity.

Meg, however, was eager and talkative. You liked her.

Once they started their training, you spent the coming weeks watching them from afar with Meg, who longed to join them. And boy, were they quite a sight.

The Batchbury brothers were a healthy mix of brash, loud, clever and cunning. All close in age, they drew the eye in both looks and temperament, but they impressed your father astronomically. The four of them were his finest officers.

Finest in more ways than one, you often thought. Every single one of them was handsome in their own way, but the handsomeness of Mr. Hugo Batchbury had drawn your attentions immediately, and they have not strayed since.

You often spent hours looking out your drawing room window at the garden below, watching him train with his brothers and your father. He would grow sweaty and would end up wrapping a tie around his forehead to keep his collarbone length hair out of his face. Sometimes he would look up at the window, seeming to always know when someone was near, and wave at his sister before nodding at you. You’d flush every time.

You lost count of the number of times you had been scalded for daydreaming, thinking only of the way his ivory shirt billowed in the wind as he sparred with his brothers, a determined look on his face. But who could blame you? Daydreaming of Mr. Batchbury was, in fact, a better use of your time than embroidery.

In the evenings, the Batchbury family dined with your family. The thought thrilled you, knowing you would end every day in the company of Mr. Batchbury. He was often seated diagonally from you, giving you the perfect line of sight of his dark brown-grey eyes, his hooked nose, and his full lips. His face was truly sculpted by the Gods. You wished those dinners lasted all night, just so you could stare at him longer.

He would only engage in conversation when spoken to directly, otherwise, he remained quiet, only humming in agreement or nodding. Sometimes, you felt his eyes on you, but you were most likely imagining such things.

His brothers were the same, quiet bar a few snide remarks from Carlisle towards William, who often pouted in response. Meg would giggle until she received a chiding look from Mr. Batchbury. His spectacled brother, Thomas, could chatter on about everything and anything. You rather liked all of them.

You also enjoyed the way Mr. Batchbury’s mouth would quirk upwards at his brother’s ramblings. He truly was the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life.

There was one morning, early in his stay at your estate, where you encountered Mr. Batchbury outside of these timetabled activities, and from there began your tumbling down into love.

You walked through the gardens, taking the air after a morning of lessons. Meg was a quick learner, but she bored easily of learning tedious hobbies like pianoforte, and so did you. While she snuck down to the kitchens for more food, you decided to go for a walk.

Your mother had these gardens landscaped to include a small hedge maze in the south corner. No one entered it anymore, except for you, which meant there were no chances of being bothered until you reemerged. But as you followed the familiar pathway towards the centre of the maze, you were surprised to find Mr. Batchbury sitting sideways on the stone bench you usually occupied, his legs stretched across as he hunched over something.

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise, stopping in the entrance to the maze’s centre.

Mr. Batchbury startled uncharacteristically and twisted to see you, his strange-coloured eyes wide and curly hair lifting in the gentle breeze. He wore his training gear, sans the tie around his head. The strings of his shirt were open to reveal his deep brown skin with a smattering of dark curly hair right on his sternum. You felt heat grow in your cheeks and tingle between your thighs. You averted your eyes. It was one thing to view it from your window, but another to see it mere metres from you.

“I am terribly sorry, Mr. Batchbury,” you apologised. “I did not expect to find anyone here.”

Mr. Batchbury inclined his head and turned his body towards you. “It’s quite alright.”

His voice was smoky and deep, and you felt it right down to the core of you. You flushed again.

“Please excuse me, I’ll let you get back to your…” You peered down to his lap which held a sketchbook, with a portrait of a woman you couldn’t completely make out. You watched as Mr. Batchbury swiftly covered the sketch with his forearm. Your face burned at the embarrassment of encroaching on his private work.

“I’m sorry. Good day, Mr. Batchbury.”

You turned on your heel, desperately wanting to get out of there, walk into the lake and act out Ophelia’s death when his voice called out.

“Wait. Stay. I will go,” Mr. Batchbury closed his sketchbook and stood.

“That is not necessary, Mr. Batchbury. You were here first; I will find someplace else to hide from my mama.”

Mr. Batchbury’s mouth lifted in amusement, his entire face brightening at the show of delight. “In that case, we both must stay. I am also hiding...but from my brothers.”

You smiled and took a tentative step towards him. “Is that so? I can’t imagine why you would hide from them.”

Mr. Batchbury shook his head. “You would if you were permitted to spend an afternoon with them.”

You laughed lightly and when Mr. Batchbury gestured to the stone bench for you to sit down, you obliged. Your whole body alighted when you felt him sit down next to you, hyperaware of his strong arms inches from yours as he placed his sketchbook on the other side of him. After a moment of silence, you spoke up again.

“Are you quite certain that I am not intruding?” you asked, turning towards him.

Mr. Batchbury nodded. “I am quite sure. It is nice to have polite and quiet company.”

You smiled. “Your brothers do not often speak at dinner. Except for Thomas, of course.”

Mr. Batchbury took in a breath as he stared out towards the hedge. “My brothers and I are not used to high-born life. And I have told them to be on their best behaviour at dinner. In private, my brothers talk and argue often.”

You studied his profile. Up close, you could see the way the edges of his birthmark were not exact lines and instead seemed to fade into the skin around it. You wanted to reach out and touch it, trace the imperfect lines with the tip of your finger softly and feel the roughness of his stubble as you moved across his face gently. But it would be extremely improper, so you curled your fingers into your palm tightly to suppress the urge.

“I imagine it has been an adjustment staying here whilst you train with my father.”

Mr. Batchbury linked his own hands together. “He is a great man. But yes, it has. I believe my brothers are anxious to go to war, just to escape the expectations of being guests. My sister, on the other hand, is quite enjoying her time. She was very pleased to hear your father will be allowing her to stay whilst we go abroad to fight.”

A warm smile danced on his face at the mention of his sister. You knew he was the eldest, and so the care of her fell mostly onto him. But he did not seem burdened by it. In fact, he seemed to enjoy being the parental figure for his sister. And Meg spoke of him often, telling you stories of how he would stay with her at night in their old cottage, curling around her to keep warm when they ran out of coals. Or how he would give her at least half of his food, even if it was their only meal of the day and he was starving. These tales not only solidified how much he loved his sister and what he was willing to sacrifice for her, but stoked the flaming crush you had on him.

He was already a hero to his sister, and he hadn’t even gone to war yet.

“I will be glad to continue to have her company,” you told him honestly.

Mr. Batchbury met your eyes and smiled at you, and you felt the air leave your lungs. He left you breathless, and to receive such a smile from him…one so unfiltered, warm, and so genuine, you felt lucky. His whole face lit up, his eyes bright as they creased at the sides. The feelings bubbling inside your stomach only grew. You averted your gaze, face heating.

You quickly moved the conversation on. “Are you anxious to leave as well?”

“In some ways. But in others…” Mr. Batchbury trailed off, gaze lingering in your periphery before he shook his head and continued. “I will miss Meg terribly. But we have to protect her, do what we can to ensure she is safe.”

You felt your heart squeeze at his words. His devotion was unmatched, and you had the sudden wish to be included in it; for him to be so devoted to you. What would it be like to be loved by Mr. Batchbury? You imagined it would be rather wonderful.

“It was very admirable, what you are doing for her,” you said, smoothing the fabric of your gown.

Mr. Batchbury only shrugged. “Anyone would do such a thing for their family.”

You looked at him with a smirk. “I would not be so certain.”

He sounded genuinely surprised by this, blinking at you as he placed a hand on his rather muscular thigh and turned his body to you. “No?”

“I’m sure there are many out there who would simply send their siblings off to school,” you told him. “I know of men who do that now, who are not at war, so they do not have the responsibility of caring for a child beyond sending tuition money.”

Mr. Batchbury shook his head. “I can’t imagine leaving any of my siblings behind like that, let alone Meg. I don’t even want to leave her behind at all, but war is no place for a child.”

You gazed at him, and you could not hide your admiration. How could a man like this exist and not be a figment of your imaginings? He must have been sent from heaven, for a man on Earth could never be so exceptional, so lovely.

“You are a good man, Mr. Batchbury.”

Mr. Batchbury met your gaze and watched you with an expression you could not recognise. No matter how much you wished, no matter how much you could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, you could not look away from him. His brown-grey eyes bore into you, like they were seeing into your soul, and giving you a window into his. When you looked at him, you saw someone so kind and so unselfish, so devoted to his family and to keeping his sister safe. Someone willing to put himself in danger in the hope that she would be taken care of in his absence. His heart was huge, and he downplayed all of it, acting like it was not a choice, but something he simply did because he loved.

When Mr. Batchbury loved, you'd learnt, he loved faithfully and unwaveringly. His heart found a place to belong, and then never moved. It was a mountainous kind of heart, that stalled and weathered storms for those it loved and shielded them from harm, that remained strong for eternity.

Oh, how you longed to experience it.

You absently parted your lips and watched as Mr. Batchbury’s eyes darted towards the movement. He gazed there, zeroing in on your mouth for a moment too long before he cleared his throat and abruptly looked away.

“I should find my brothers; ensure they have not caused any trouble while I’ve been hiding.” He stood up, gathering his sketchbook and pencils, sounding a little breathless.

“Yes, o-of course.” You could barely string a sentence together, overcome with how much you felt for this man, and how he just looked like he had wanted to kiss you.

“Thank you for the company,” Mr. Batchbury inclined his head before quickly walking away, back through where you came from, his footsteps light against the gravel.

You took a deep breath and attempted to calm your racing heart. But you feared your heart would forever be hurried as long as Mr. Batchbury continued to exist in the same time as you.

In the several weeks that followed, you would have unplanned meetings with Mr. Batchbury in the maze. At least, they began as unplanned, before you both found excuses to meet each other there. It was so easy being with him, to talk to him and laugh with him. Some days you would regale him with tales of your childhood, and then beg him to tell you of his, no matter how fleeting it had been due to their circumstance and his position as eldest sibling. On others, you both did not talk at all, only sat beside each other, you with a book, and him with his sketchbook aimed away from your eyes.

One day, after many meetings in which your feelings for him grew beyond your known capacity, you taught him several dances. By his request, surprisingly.

“I did not take you as one to dance,” you teased him, standing up and walking several metres to where there was a space for you both to dance unobstructed.

You watched as the port wine stain across Mr. Batchbury’s face deepened slightly in colour. Was he blushing? “I am not. I think it will help with…my training.”

You gave him a strange look before you began teaching him.

“Now half turn, and pass by my shoulder,” you told him, and he followed your instruction. He was a fast learner, and as it turns out, a fine dancer. Perhaps the entire Batchbury clan were quick studies.

“Hold my hands, and we turn together,” you instructed.

You felt his hands encircle yours and through the barely there lace of your gloves, you felt the heat of his palms on yours. You hitched a breath as his fingers curled to hold yours firmly; securely. You met his eyes, which were on yours in an intense gaze that left you breathless. You dared not look away from his eyes, one side surrounded by his birthmark, as he turned with you. You forgot what choreography came next as you both turned slowly around each other, moving closer and closer, hands intertwined.

Eventually, you slowed to a stop, but neither of you moved to break apart. Your noses nearly touched, and you’d never been so close to a man in your life. You could feel his breath on your skin, and you were sure he could hear just how fast your heart was beating. Mr Batchbury’s hold on your hands was the only thing that tethered you to the Earth, nothing else could be comprehended but his touch and his eyes. You felt the pad of this thumb gently move across your knuckles in a gesture you’d only read about in books. You inhaled softly, heart expanding in your chest.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you breathed.

“Yes,” he breathed back.

“I…I don’t remember what comes next,” you whispered, not sure what else to say.

Mr. Batchbury blinked several times, as if he suddenly realised where he was and how intimate their position had been, and took a step back, placing distance between you both. He then looked down at your hands and then gently let them go.

“I’m very sorry. That wasn’t…” He paused before he settled on, “Right.”

You quickly shook your head, wishing he would come closer once again. “No, it’s quite alright. Really.”

Mr. Batchbury shook his head. “No. It’s not. Your father would not be pleased.”

“I care little of what my father thinks. And we were only dancing.”

“Dancing,” he repeated like he was unsure himself.

“Dancing,” you confirmed. You held out your hand, desperate for him to take it again. “Please, let us continue.”

Mr. Batchbury looked at your hand hesitantly before he took it again, this time his hold loose and non-committal and you longed for the way he held you just minutes ago.

You raced through the rest of the dance, and when you had finished, Mr. Batchbury thanked you before making an excuse and leaving swiftly. You sighed and sat on the bench, thinking back to the way he had looked at you; the hold he’d had on your hand and the way he’d moved his thumbs across your knuckles. He had been so close…surely…surely he had wanted to kiss you? No one looked at someone like that, held someone like that in a dance without the hope that their lips would meet their partners…right? You put your head in your hands. You did not know, and there was no one you could ask.

You wished he had. You wished he had pressed his lips to yours, and ended your misery. You imagined it endlessly. You thought of the way he would hold you close against him as he moved his lips against yours. His looked so soft, you imagined they’d feel soft too. They’d be gentle, coaxing, teaching yours. You’d place your fingers into his hair, tangling them in the curly locks hoping they’d get trapped in there, chaining you to him forever. He was so proficient in everything else he did, surely he would be when it came to kissing too.

Oh, yes, you thought. To kiss Mr. Batchury would be heavenly indeed.

The next day, you weren’t sure you would find Mr. Batchbury in the maze. As much as you wished differently, you suspected that after yesterday afternoon’s dance lesson, you would not see him again until the evening.

But you reached the centre of the maze and saw him sitting there with his back to you, no doubt his sketchbook on his lap. He had tilted his head slightly at the sound of your footsteps – his hearing was exceptional.

You swallowed and began to walk towards him. He turned to face you, swivelling his body as he made room for you on the bench. He pulled his sketchbook to his chest, hiding the pages from your eyes.

“I apologise for yesterday,” he said. “I should not have been so…”

“We were only dancing,” you were quick to reassure.

He did not say anything, he only looked at you, something indiscernible passing over his face as you watched his hands tighten on his sketchbook, the pages squeezing under his fingertips. You watched him curiously, trying to decipher the crease of his brow. If you were brave enough, and were sure your actions would not scare him away yet again, you would push the pad of your thumb into the lines formed between his brow, flatten them gently until they were gone. Your need to touch him only intensified after how close you’d been to him yesterday. To feel the tickle of his breath on your cheeks tease how easy it would’ve been to close the distance was a cruel twist of the knife into your feelings for Mr. Batchbury, knowing you would not get that close again.

After several beats of silence that seemed to feel endless in your agony, he said, “My brothers and I will be departing tomorrow at dawn. Your father says we are ready.”

Your breath hitched in surprise. “Oh.”

You felt your throat close up. You knew it was coming, but did it have to be so soon? You had grown so used to his presence these several weeks, to seeing him training, to dining with him, to spending these precious hours with him in the maze…how would you do without him? And he was going to war no less…the thought that he might never return was so violent you felt it proverbially slam into you, and you had to grip the edge of the stone bench to steady yourself.

And even if–when, when he came back, so much could change while he was away. Your mother would surely take you to London for another tedious season, desperate for you to make a match. Only none would live up to Mr. Batchbury. And if you did marry at your mother’s behest, he would return, and your feelings would come back stronger than ever, only now there was no chance of anything to come of you both. He would surely find someone else, and marry them instead.

You felt like crying. You wanted him to stay. But he never would, and it would be selfish and foolish to ask.

It seemed as though Mr. Batchbury would be someone you were only meant to know for a short time.

“I’m sure you and your brothers will be missed by your sister,” you managed to choke out. And by me. I will miss you so terribly I fear my chest will break open with the ache of it.

Mr. Batchbury gave a pained expression. “I feel sick at the thought of leaving her.”

You didn’t stop yourself this time, placing a hand on his forearm. “I will look after her. She will be okay. I promise you, Mr. Batchbury,”

He looked at you, brows slanted in a way that broke your heart and mouth stretched into the saddest of smiles. “That is my only comfort, knowing you will be there for her.”

“It is the least I can do,” you strained out, forcing a tight-lipped smile you only hoped fooled him into thinking you did not feel as much as you did.

He looked at you, eyes darting over your face for several moments before looking away, his knuckles white with their hold on his sketchbook. You traced your gaze across his profile, outlining the hook of his nose against the overcast sky. You had already memorised it, but you allowed yourself one last look. If you were accomplished at drawing, you would’ve filled sketchbooks with his face, a visual ode to his beauty, and a eulogy of your love.

“I should go,” he cleared his throat. “Ensure we are ready, spend as much time with Meg as I can.”

You blinked away tears. “Of course.” Would he really say nothing more to you? After all this time spent together?

Mr. Batchbury stood up and in the movement, his sketchbook dropped on the ground in front of you, page splayed open to his drawings. You looked down and inhaled a sharp breath when you finally laid your eyes upon the sketches that had evaded you.

The drawings…they were all of you.

Mr. Batchbury bent to hastily pick up the book and close it roughly and caged the book against his chest, concealing the drawings of you once again. You looked up at him, mouth parted in shock as he pointedly avoided your eyes the port wine stain on his face growing darker as he blushed.

“Mr. Batchbury–”

“I must go,” he strangled out and started to walk.

You couldn’t let him leave like this. Not now. Not when you’d just discovered this; his sketches of you. You stood abruptly and blocked his path, your hand raised in a stop motion which he bumped into. “Wait, please.”

His expression was full of anguish as he finally met your eyes. But you needed to know, even if he wished you didn’t.

You turned your palm up between you slowly, your brows slanted as you looked towards him. You watched his eyes move down to look at your waiting hand and then back to your eyes.

“May I…?” you breathed.

You watched his arms flex as he hesitated, his chest rising and falling behind the sketchbook. After a moment, he reluctantly handed it over. You opened it gingerly and began to slowly comb through the pages.

The book started with florals, landscapes, and portraits of his brothers and sister before they slowly became interpolated with the sketches of you. Your heart raced as you looked through them. There were so many. You knew he had little money at all, let alone for something as frivolous as an art book, and yet he’d filled so many pages with you. With you sitting at dinner, of you laughing, you from the drawing room window, you on the bench reading.

He'd filled a sketchbook with you.

All these weeks, he’d been looking at you as you looked at him? This whole time?

You then landed on the most striking of all – your eyes yesterday, up close as he’d stared into them as you danced.

They were remarkable, and all done by memory – you hadn’t sat for a single one.

You looked up at him, and his eyes flicked to yours, an expression a combination of pain and embarrassment as his port wine stain was still darkened with blush.

Your voice was but a whisper. “They’re all of me.”

“Yes,” he rasped, but his eyes never left yours.

“W-Why?”

“Because you are bewitching to me,” he told you, his voice stronger now. He’d answered it like he could not believe you had to ask, like he was shocked it was not obvious to you. Like it was fueled with the truth. Mr. Batchbury did not lie, and his words were spoken with conviction, as sure as the mountains his heart mirrored. “Because I am unable to go a single moment without you in my thoughts, and I’m not sure I ever want to be free of such notions.”

You gaped at him. “Mr. Batchbury–”

“I apologise if I overstepped.” He spoke directly, as though he had embraced his truth; his actions. Like he was no longer embarrassed, but rather empowered and confident in how he felt. “I should have asked. But how could I?”

You did not know. Maybe if you weren’t reeling from his confession, you would have an answer for him. But even then, perhaps there was no right way to say you wished to capture someone’s likeness tens of times over.

You wanted to speak, but you were shocked. You were bewitching to him ? He could not stop thinking about you ? You could hardly believe it to be true. You could hardly believe that a man like Mr. Batchbury had been occupied with thoughts of you . You, a mere earthling to an ethereal angel such as him.

But Mr. Batchbury did not lie. He was as faithful as the mountains, after all.

At your growing silence, he perceived this as your disapproval of his actions; of his feelings. He took a shaky breath as he slowly took the book from you and closed it.

“I…I have upset you,” he deduced, dejected. “I–”

You cut him off, desperate to tell him of your own feelings. Desperate to say you thought of him the same. “You have not upset me.”

Mr. Batchbury’s brows raised and his eyes widened in surprise. You swallowed as he gazed upon you. If he had been brave enough to tell you, you could tell him. But how? What words? What arrangement of phrases could you string together to fully convey the extent of what you felt for this man? You feared you could not. But you would try.

You blinked at him before shaking your head. “You…are so incredibly cruel for telling me this now, when you cannot stay.”

You watched his expression as he registered your words and what they implied, as they sunk into his bones. You watched his mouth part with a breath and his shoulders relax – you had not even been able to tell how truly anxious he had been waiting to know how you felt.

He shook his head, his voice quiet once again, but still held the strength of his truth. “I know.”

“And yet,” you took a breath as you smiled at him, eyes stinging at the bittersweet moment of the truths you were unveiling. “I cannot be angry with you, not when my heart is completely and utterly yours.”

Mr. Batchbury sucked in a breath at your words. You watched his eyes soften around the edges as the breeze blew through his curls, lifting them off his shoulders at the same time the corners of his mouth lifted slightly too. His grip on the sketchbook slackened. Your heart warmed at the expression on his face, the look of disbelief mixed with joy.

His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it, that smokiness only highlighting the vulnerability of his words. “You truly mean that?”

You let out a breathy laugh, smiling. “I do.”

He dropped his sketchbook, falling to the side of you both as he stepped forward and took your hands in his, squeezing them gently and securely. His palms pressed into yours, the warmth travelling under your skin and igniting your insides. His chest brushed against yours and you looked up into his brown-grey eyes, watching the way light seemed to dance in them when he was happy.

“Tell me again.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you squeezed his hands as the words fell out of your mouth earnestly and easily. “My heart is yours.”

Mr. Batchbury sighed, closing his eyes and pulling you flush against him, pressing his forehead to yours, his arms now encircling your waist. You gasped, placing your hands on his chest. You let your eyes fall closed as your noses touched. You were even closer than you had been yesterday – though now you couldn’t believe you thought that had been close, not when you were pressed against him like this.

You catalogued every detail of his body against yours. Even through your corset, you felt the hardness of his chest. He was so warm and solid, and under your hands, you could feel the steady beat of his heart moving rapidly, matching yours. His breath tickled your skin, and you breathed it in, his hot breath filling your lungs. He smelt of soap and cedar and it was entirely intoxicating. You had to find a way to bottle this smell up, and keep it under your pillow to breathe in. He had completely engulfed you, physically and emotionally.

And you never wanted him to stop.

You felt his throat vibrate, the deep tenor of his voice trembling under your hands. It was like he was speaking inside you. His voice was husky and you felt the breath of his words on your lips.

“One more time.”

You did not hesitate. “I am yours.”

He kissed you then, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that felt like your entire body was on fire. You drew in a breath as you felt his hold on you tighten, his head tilting as he moved his lips against yours. You had never been kissed before, but something told you that kissing did not always feel like this. Just as he engulfed you before, he overwhelmed you now. His mouth was hot, and passionate, his kisses deep as one hand cradled your head to his. He kissed like he loved; faithfully, strongly. You could never guess what was in his heart when he kissed like this. It was obvious.

You had imagined kissing Mr. Batchbury would be heavenly. But it was better than that. His full lips were soft, as you thought, and though his kiss was passionate, it was never controlling or taking without permission. His kisses coaxed you, draw you further into him.

You moaned into the kiss and you felt his hold on your body tighten again. Your mouths opened for air, but you did not end this embrace. You moved your hands into his hair and fisted his curls as you'd always wished to, and drew him in closer again, kissing him once again. You could not get enough. How could you stop? It was dizzying. You felt his groan against your hands and lips as he deepened the kiss once more before pulling back.

He did not go far, and neither did you. He pressed his forehead into yours once again, noses against each other and you both caught your breath.

“Am I dreaming?” You spoke without thinking.

Mr. Batchbury’s chuckle sent every nerve ending in your body tingle. “I hope not.”

You laughed lightly and drew back a little to see Mr. Batchbury’s smile. What a sight to behold, the way his cheeks stretched to accommodate such joy on his features. His eyes seemed to sparkle too. You felt dazed, like you’d just seen heaven on Earth.

You allowed yourself to trace the outline of his birthmark with your finger, just as you’d always imagined doing. You felt Mr. Batchbury’s arms encircle your waist, his eyes never leaving your face as you performed your featherlight ministrations down his forehead, across his cheek and all the way to his chin.

“You have to come back,” you whispered, your voice breaking a little.

He blinked at you, and you felt his face move under your fingers as he spoke, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “You’re willing to wait for me?”

You frowned at him. “How could you ask that when I just told you I am yours?”

Mr. Batchbury shook his head and leaned in again to kiss you once more. This kiss was much shorter than the one that preceded it. And it was sweeter too. You smiled into the kiss before he pulled away. The expression on his face one of uncertainty.

“What about your father? He will not approve.”

You shook your head, fingers moving to his curls, pushing them back and tucking them behind his ear. “He likes you a great deal.”

“Maybe. But I am…” He trailed off and you frowned and cradled his face in your hand. He kissed your palm as if it was instinct.

“You are what?”

Mr Batchbury bit his lips as lifted a hand from your waist and cupped your jaw, his thumb running across your cheekbone as he looked at you with such devotion you thought you might cry.

“Poor. I have nothing to offer you, my love. And I am going to war.”

Your heart squeezed. Had this been the source of his hesitation all along? You shook your head. “I do not need anything but this–”

You placed the hand that held his face on his heart. You felt it pick up under your palm as you gazed into his eyes. You watched his face cycle through several emotions before it seemed to land on adoration. His eyes softened, and his birthmark deepened in colour before he shook his head.

“Bewitching,” he whispered before he leaned in to kiss you again. You felt his every emotion in this kiss as if you truly had fused together, feeling each other's emotions as your own. You felt his love, his devotion, his agony. You wished he did not have to go. But he had his duty to his family. It was cruel that you had managed to know the tiniest feeling of what it would be like to be loved by Mr. Batchbury, and now had to give it up. How could the stars be so vicious? To pull you both together, only to rip you apart again.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you moved your mouth against his, deepening the kiss until tears fell down your cheeks and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours, a strangled sound coming from his throat.

You opened your eyes to see his full of anguish and pain. When he saw the tears that stained your cheeks, he brought the backs of his fingers to your cheek and brushed them away gently. You sniffled as he cradled your face with both hands before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. When he met your eyes again, his expression was determined.

“I will come back.” He meant it and believed it.

“Promise me,” was all your voice was strong enough for.

“I promise.” His voice was smokey and hard. Immovable devotion – that was Mr. Batchbury. A mountainous heart that loved fiercely. That loved you fiercely. “I will come back and marry you so I can love you forever.”

You could no longer speak in fear of sobbing in his arms. So you kissed him once more, doing everything you could to memorise the feel of him, so when you woke the next morning and he was nowhere to be found, you could fall back into your daydreams, this time knowing what he felt like and that you would feel it again one day.

He promised you.

Now, almost half a decade, an earned nickname, and a conclusion of a war later, you watched him from the other side of the ballroom. And when Mr. Batchbury – Hunter, as he was now known, met your gaze, he smiled at you knowingly, his eyes soft with the same love you remembered from the maze. You returned it before excusing yourself from the conversation you were not listening to, and disappeared from the ballroom towards the gardens.

banner art by @vimse i hope you enjoyed this FIRST installment. yes, FIRST, bc what is a regency romance without a steamy encounter...hehehe ANYWAY stay tuned!!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727 @rebel-ezra @lulalovez

TAGLIST FORM

#larissa writes #hunter x reader #hunter x reader fic #hunter bad batch fic #hunter bad batch #the bad batch hunter fic #tbb x reader #tbb hunter #the bad batch fic au #regency au fic

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singlesomethinginstyle · 1 month ago

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It is festive season in South Asia, and women are some of the most overworked among all social groups.

Suddenly, it is not just you, your partner/parents/siblings anymore - it is the entire extended clan, khandaan, their nosy relatives even with several degrees of separation.

The bulk of festive burden falls on women. From the cooking, an extensive menu that comprises unhealthy food which will not be fully consumed because everyone is diabetic or dieting, and the heartbroken woman has to finish what she painstakingly prepared or watch it go to the trash, to endless decor needs, shopping and gifting the extended family (a fine art which, god forbid you gift one relative something and another differently, tempers erupt) not to mention your own professional deadlines because your boss wants everything early so he can justify the 3-4-5 fay holidays.

Then comes the dieting because you KNOW you will be judged for your appearance, the clothing choices, the exhaustion of dealing with nasty relatives and the politics.

And if you're queer, in the closet or struggling or even simply wanting to be single or avoid marriage, suddenly your life is everyone's business, and this endless social nightmare, the bullying and the ostracism is the opposite of divine, it is debasing. God forbid if you are part of an inter-caste or inter-faith coupling, the negativity is worse.

Here are a few tips on how you can take care of yourself during this season.

You've gotta put yourself first. You cannot fight multiple battles on multiple fronts if you cannot take care of yourself first. FEED YOURSELF FIRST.

Look in the mirror ' and tell yourself - this festive season I am celebrating ME - I will feed myself first. You cannot fight big battles on an empty tank.

1. Food: eat before everyone else - get in the kitchen, make yourself something healthy in half an hour, cut a salad, a bunch of fruits and eat first. Cut up a few veggies at night, put it in a tiffin box and leave it in the fridge. When everyone is snoozing, have that. They will balance out all the junk that will go into your stomach. Don't start any ridiculous fast that will drain you. Get a doctor's note if you are being pressured and say - sorry maa ji. Health reasons I have to be careful.

2. Get a pre-festival health checkup. Go to the doctor and get your stats checked. Some labs offer full-body general health checkups at discounted rates. Grab a package and finish it. When you know where you are struggling, yiu can avoid making it worse.

3. Protect your money. Festive seasons have a pile of insidious stupid expenses that pile up and guess who pays ? The woman, the wife, the daughter in law. Do you think your Husband or inlaws will shell money out for that cute decor and diya set? No way. If you hold them accountable, they will probably give some money for all the gifts relatives give. Remove your credit cards and debit cards from online shopping sites. Pretend something is wrong with your card and it got blocked. Make your husband or In-laws pay instead.

So get realistic, set up a budget and empty your bank account into an FD. Congratulations, you only have a SMALL amount of money left for decorations - use that to get inventive and clever. Pull out old newspapers, and get into wealth-from-waste mode.

If you are even smarter, you will quietly set up an alternative savings account WITHOUT a debit card or credit card and squirrel away your Dussehra - Diwali bonus into it. If your husband asks, "Sorry yar, iss bar company mein bonus nahi de rahe hain, kaafi projects mein behind hue and they arent doing that well"

If you are still living with your parents make it a point to save every money gift you get. Take the cash, hide it safely and don't touch it. First opportunity - put it in the bank account (your own, not a shared one)

4. Secure your Jewelry. A pot of desi women are given gold and precipus jewelry during their marriage but this is often sneakily taken away by your mother in law in order to "safeguard it". It is usually in the bank or a locker you do not have access to.

So, this festive season, go FULL on TRADITIONAL. Wear that old saree, and ask mom in law for your jewelry because your extended family etc are mentioning seeing those pieces from your wedding, because they got sentimental. And then sneakily after the festivities, hide them in your own little locker (which you bought beforehand) and quietly head to the bank, and deposit it in a safe deposit box in YOUR name.

Remember, GOLD is one of the most secure available financial assets for a desi woman. But the gold you have is often controlled by your in-laws once you marry over. So make sure you take iy back bit by bit. And when they ask - make excuses like - the clasp is broken, need repairs, mom wants to upgrade it a little etc. And never give it back to your inlaws. Your gold is YOUR legal property. It should not go to your inlaws.

5. Mentally prepare for tough conversations.

Festive seasons are hard on women and they socially slaughter your dignity. Prepare snarky, sarcastic answers or don't hesitate to shut down what comes your way. But since many of you are raised to be docile, remember to anticipate all the tough topics someone will raise to criticize you, think of their personaliry and prepare some snarky answers beforehand. If a relative is asking abiut your marriage, ask them when their son is going to move out or if they're still a financial burden. Ask if their husbands have stopped ogling the maid. Don't be scared of going offensive. These guys are not your friends and won't hesitate to pull you down.

6. Prepare Me time. Make a set of activities, like groceries etc, that that can leave you alone and give you breathing space from the khandaan. Take longer to shop alone and take a break in the neighbourhood park. Use this time to meditate, check in with yourself and your goals and give youraelf a spiritual pat kn the back.

7. Prep an easy menu and donate the remaining. Plan a food menu that is not extensive. Order delicacies if possible, instead of Doing it Yourself. There is no BEST BAHU and BEST WIFE contest to win. Get the load of cooking off your back. If there is food leftover, call an orphanage and send it to them. Do not eat excessively out of guilt. Donate it to those who need it. When the burden of cooking is reduced the guilt of forced eating goes doen and you won't be putting junk in your body.

Remember - you are your own best friend. Festivals will take a lot out of you. They will cause families to get into unnecessary pissing contests and you have to bear the laborous brunt. So safeguard your time and energy.

#desi #dussehra #diwali #desi woman #desiblr #desi tumblr #power #relationship dynamics #reality

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apple-and-berry · 7 months ago

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Queen of Tears presents us this incredibly flawed couple in such a heartbreaking yet funny way that it will tug your heart strings and will tickle your belly.

This is a story about how two people who are irrevocably in love with each other but are separated due to miscommunication. This is not a story about who is right or who is wrong or who suffered more. It's about how different each human being is and how we act regarding that.

Hyun-woo fell in love with Hae-in for who she is without having the knowledge of her family background. Like mentioned in the show he wanted to be by her side. This shows his devotion and loyalty to her. But what happens when your wife treats you in a cold manner infront of your office colleagues and doesn't stands up for you when your in-laws are constantly insulting you. Some people may say that she did support him behind his back but it doesn't work like that. What happens when your wife clears out the nursery built for your child that both you and your wife wanted but lose due to miscarriage, you are obviously hurt and angry. Would you feel okay if your partner doesn't care about your parents and your side of the family going as far as not saving their contact numbers and not visiting them. People would say she did help his father when needed and it only happened after the change of heart she had after her diagnosis, so I appreciate Hae-in for doing that but that doesn't cancels out the rest. Hyun-woo felt ghosted after the honeymoon phase of their relationship ended. It's a taxing process to be with someone who refuses to have conversations and internalises everything. He felt isolated in that relationship and Hae-in who was supposed to be by his side played a major role in it. He was miserable in that relationship because he comes across as someone who is definitely commucative and understanding. The thought of separating from her unscathed was a luxury he desired but couldn't dream. So he was happy and content with the knowledge of her dying because in that moment he was looking after himself. I don't agree with his reaction but I understand how toxic and awful things must have gotten to bring out such a reaction from someone who once doted on his wife. He is someone who doesn't have a single bad bone in his body and Hae-in obviously loved him but her actions were quite opposite. It was nice to see him realise his mistakes and take ownership of it and continue to do the right thing.

Hae-in is the best example children growing up in broken homes. Her family dynamic shows that you can have all the luxury and money in the world but love and togetherness can't be bought. Growing up in such situations can always make or break a person and in her case it broke her. She is someone who internalises everything because she thinks no one cares about her feelings and that she would be a burden if she told her problems. Her family has the biggest hand in her being that way. Her mother accusing her for her brother's death when she was a kid herself and then continuing to treat her that way is sad. It's no surprise that she thinks she doesn't deserve to be sad after the loss of her baby. She was happy in the brief period of time when she and Hyun-woo dated and later married because he was the first person who truly saw her and wanted to be with her. She loves him, there is no denying in that but as they say actions speaks louder than words. Regarding her I always question myself that would she have a change of heart if not for her diagnosis. The diagnosis obviously plays a big role in her life and now she is looking at things with different perspective and is trying her best to mend. I liked when she said she divorced hyun-woo because of everything he suffered during their marriage. She is taking accountability.

I just want both of them to actually have a real long conversation. I want both of them to put whatever they have felt on the table and work on it. Its not about who is right, it never has been. It's been always about their marriage.

#queen of tears #netflix #kdrama #kim soo hyun #kim ji won

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alexusonfire · 1 year ago

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Warmth of Your Doorways - Chapter Eight

Jane Murdstone x dressmaker!Reader

A/n: In collaboration with my dearest @daydream-cement , who never fails to amaze me with her Big Brain 🧡

Warnings: Talk of eating issues related to heartbreak, overall hurt with very little comfort

Summary: Living without eachother.

A gentle breeze whipped your hair from your face as you made your way down the bustling, cobbled streets. You were still getting used to Paris, how busy and alive it always seemed to be compared to your little town. While there was always something to see or do or smell, you sometimes felt a deep ache in the pit of your chest, longing for the familiarity and quiet of home.

That, and Jane of course.

You'd summoned every ounce of strength you had to leave her behind, to not go rushing back into her arms and begging her to take you back. She'd pushed you away time and time again, nearly to the point you almost believed what she was saying. Stepping onto the train, with only your most important belongings and best clothes tucked into your suitcases beside you, felt like a knife to the gut; wrong, it felt so very wrong, to end everything like this.

But you'd tried. You'd given it everything you had to keep her, and she'd turned her back on you too many times.

You'd been restless since you stepped foot in Paris, eager to get to work and distract yourself from the gaping hole Jane Murdstone had left. Not even allowing yourself time to get fully unpacked and settled in, you started at the prestigious shop the day after you arrived, putting on your best dress and swiping on some blush in the hopes of hiding just how exhausted you were. Despite not having a proper sleep in weeks, your fingers remained steady, the familiar motions coming naturally to them, and your new employer remained impressed; the praise of both the Matron and the ladies you dressed felt nice most days, and sometimes even managed to bring a smile to your face.

The evenings, however, were the worst. You came to dread them, often staying much longer than necessary at the shop, sometimes working into the wee hours of the morning if only to avoid how empty your apartment felt. You'd tried decorating it, hoping that perhaps a more homely feel would help, but every picture, every ornament, felt wrong and useless and silly. Your walls remained blank, as did the mantle above your small fireplace. Three weeks in and even your suitcase still wasn't fully unpacked. No matter how you tried to fill that damn hole inside you, you began to suspect nothing ever could.

——

Jane’s despair only grew during the weeks in which she was separated from you. She knew that she was the only person to blame for the way she treated you, and due to this, she spent many a day confined to her bed, unable to eat or write. Lady Marjory had taken to writing for Jane in her journal so the ravenette wouldn’t miss a day.

The day before Jane’s arranged marriage to Lord Barclay, Marjory ascended the staircase for a final time, needing to plead with Jane to snap out of her depression. There was only one way for Jane to save herself and her love, and that was for her to follow you to Paris.

She knocked softly on the door before letting herself in, quietly approaching the bedside and seating herself at Jane’s side. The ravenette’s eyes studied the painting on the wall. It depicted a cottage and a field of violets, a setting Jane had always pictured her little seamstress and herself growing old together. Marjory had thought of taking it down to save Jane from the heartache, but there was a softness to her gaze as she looked over the violets that prevented the Lady from doing so.

“Janey… Jane…” Marjory shook Jane’s arm with gentle pressure. The ravenette felt so fragile having lost so much weight in her despair, her face looking gaunt from the way she starved herself.

Jane craned her head to look at Marjory, the hollowness in her face also present in her eyes.

“I got you a little present. A surprise actually. You could call it a wedding gift.” The Lady held out a few small slips of paper to Jane, but when the ravenette made no attempt to take them, Marjory snuggled into Jane’s side. She held them high for Jane to look at as she read, “A train ticket… and a boat ticket… and another train ticket… You see that, Janey? They will take you to Paris. To find your little violet… I’ve had Mr. Smith pack your bags, dearie. The carriage is being readied as we speak to take you to the train. We need to get you ready.”

For the first time in weeks, there was a sparkle in Jane’s eyes. Her hands reached up and took the tickets from Marjory, reading them over and over again. Her voice was hoarse from not speaking in days, “Truly, Marjory? This will take me to Paris?”

“Yes. You can find her. Mary says she is working in the heart of Paris at a little dress shop. She said that your little seamstress is in the same despair as you. You must find her.”

Jane felt a new sense of urgency, crawling from bed at a speed her energy levels would allow. Marjory clung to Jane’s side, gripping her forearm as she helped her from bed. The Lady helped Jane into the bath, combing out her hair and scrubbing at her skin as she retold the contents of your letters that Mary had shared with her. Reminding Jane to make sure she wore her best dress and had flowers in hand when she saw you again.

After a quick bath, Marjory helped Jane into one of her usual black dresses and helped her friend pin back her hair. As Jane stared at her reflection in the mirror, Marjory pressed a kiss to the ravenette’s temple, providing a last bit of advice before she would shoo Jane out the door, “And for the love of all things holy, Janey, please don’t muck this up again.”

The carriage had pulled around the back of the house, which Jane was thankful for as it was hidden from Edward's ever present gaze. She quickly climbed inside, and before she could give it another thought, it took off. She briefly looked out the window to wave goodbye to Marjory, her dearest friend, and couldn't help the smug grin when she spotted Edward absolutely seething in one of the upper windows.

She'd done it. She'd escaped him and Lord Barclay and whatever life they'd plotted out for her. It felt like a small weight had been lifted from her shoulders, one that had kept her pressed into her pillows for who knows how long. For a moment, Jane enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her cheeks, the wind caressing her face, fresh air in her lungs. She felt… alive again. Refreshed. Determined.

She didn't care what it took, or how long, she'd win your heart again like she had all those months ago, and spend the rest of her life on her knees apologizing to get you back. She'd make it up to you, she would. She had to.

The train station was busier than normal, and she found herself packed like a sardine once boarded. Squished to the window, she distracted herself with the sights outside, enjoying the rolling fields and the animals, all the things she was sure you'd point out with glee if you were here. Pulling out her journal, she made to take notes of everything she was seeing, thinking you might like to read about them; her pen was held mid-air as she noticed writing that wasn't her own.

Marjory.

She'd kept Jane's journal updated, faithfully writing out each and every day as Jane had done since she was a little girl. Jane couldn't help the tears forming in her eyes as she read her friends' entries, how much Marjory cared for her and her well-being. She'd find a proper way to thank her, once she'd sorted out this mess with you. Hastily wiping at the wet on her cheek, she proceeded to begin writing, telling you all about how stuffy the train was, how it felt to be on an adventure (the first in her life by herself) and pages and pages of how much she wished you were here with her to see it all.

The boat ride was much worse. It seemed many people had also bought last minute tickets, and the ticket master had overbooked. Jane found herself curled up on the floor, back pressed to the wall of the ship, no spare bed to be found. She'd run her pen nearly dry writing about it all, trying to ignore the pains in her limbs from the hard floor beneath her. This was worth it, you were worth it, and if she had to endure a hundred ship floors she would.

She could do without the seasickness however. That tiny detail she decided to omit from her journal.

Days blended into each other, day turning to night and night turning to day. She wondered what you were up to, if you liked your new job. Did you live by yourself, in your own apartment, or did you board in the shop like you had at Matron Mary's? Were the customers nice to you? How did you fill your days outside of work? Could you stomach the sight of flowers still, like she hadn't been able to since you'd left?

Had you found happiness in your new home, or did you feel as lost and desolate as she did?

——

You woke when the sun did. Months ago you would have made the bed and tidied up your living space, throwing open the curtains and enjoying the morning. But most mornings in Paris felt dreary, the thought of your lost love hanging over your head in the worst way.

You would wonder where Jane was, what she was doing, if she were happy. In one of her letters, Mary had mentioned Jane looking for you, perhaps finally coming to her senses. How silly. Her cold words were ever-present in your mind - a constant reminder of her rejection. Yet, stupidly it seemed, you loved her.

This morning you once again ignored the pretty lilac dress you would wear for Jane hanging in the closet, opting for a dull gray instead. As you brushed your hair, you thought of her lovely black locks and those thoughts faded to the night you spent in her rooms, kissing and dancing. Jane was so relaxed and gentle with you… There was no possible way she didn’t love you in return.

Thoughts of Jane carried you through breakfast: a slice of buttered bread. What you wouldn’t give to share a meal of fruit and bread accompanied by tea with Jane again.

You covered your head with a scarf to maintain the tight bun that kept hair from coming loose and falling in your face. Pulling your bag onto your shoulder, you step from your apartment, locking the door behind yourself. Daydreams of Jane filled your head as you descended the stairs.

Jane would look so beautiful in a deep blue dress. How you would love to walk with her through the city streets and try the various cafes or look through the shops with her. You would share discreet looks of admiration across a table and look away with little smirks. In the evenings you could retire to your apartment, or better yet the one you shared with her. You would make dinner or read poetry. Jane could keep flowers on the balcony as you make her new dresses in shades of dark blue that would make her eyes shine.

As you lay in bed, Jane would hold you close and talk about literature. Her hands would stroke your back or tease through your hair, every few minutes she would tell you how much she loved you and how she would never let you go.

But these were all dreams…

Jane wouldn’t come for you, nor did she love you. She had made that abundantly clear.

You tried to shake the thoughts of her as you entered the dress shop, needing to be focused in order to have a productive day’s work.

Only if you could have seen Jane stop dead in her tracks on the other side of the street as she spotted you. Only if you could have seen Jane Murdstone smile for the first time in weeks. Only if you could have seen how she still loved you.

@weemssapphic @bitch-we-have-a-hulk @yourlocaldisneyvillain @renravens @thegoddamnfeels @dvrkhcld @blessmysouljessisonaroll @opheliauniverse @ahsfan05 @ness029 @carnivorousflowers @willowshadenox @mysaviorfalsegod @myzzjolanda @bigolgay @pluied-ete @h-doodles @pro-weems-places

#jane murdstone #jane murdstone x reader #jane murdstone x dressmaker!reader #gwendoline christie #warmth of your doorways

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