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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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say so — nanami kento.

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again. Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him. “Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Post-Shibuya Arc, R-18, Smut, Fingering, P to V Sex, Passionate Sex, Pet Names (My Love, Baby), Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Jealousy, Teasing, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband, Nanami Kento is FATHER™️;

WORDS: 9.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: nanami won my poll again!!! hurray!!! here's tmi about this - thiis was half way finished when i came back to write it, but then i got sick again and i started writing this more differently than my direction. i got frustrated so i stopped for a while then i forgot about it and then i wanted to finish it.

oh, also kento and you speak danish at home, because you both feel like a secret language between you and him. gojo is also retired — thats going to be in us and them!!! thank you so much for waiting!!! thank you for reading too!!! i love you all !!! see you in the gojo fic (second place) <3

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next: little wonders

HE THOUGHT THAT HE WOULD ALWAYS BE NONCHALANT. Nanami Kento never thought he’d be the type to get jealous. After all, he prided himself on being calm and composed, grounded in logic.

But lately, things have changed. You had changed—or rather, something about you had. At least that’s what he noticed now that you’ve come back to Tokyo, so he could become a mentor to the kids with Gojo’s retirement.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Nanami Kento had finally left the endless grind of Jujutsu society, traded the blood and curses for a quiet life in Malaysia, far from the threat of battle.

But when he got that call, it felt like the past had come clawing back, unwilling to let him go. Itadori Yuji’s name on Gojo’s lips stirred something within him—something old, duty-bound, and unwilling to see an innocent youth, especially one with Yuji’s heart, left adrift.

Gojo Satoru's concern was about more than just Yuji, though. Nanami listened as the retired special grade sorcerer, sitting on a cruise across the globe, rattled off frustrations with the new leadership at Jujutsu High and Jujutsu society as a whole. All of it having formed with what he had known from his contacts back at hom.

At the center of it was Usami. That man, the strongest of all first class sorcerers, Usami, who never defied the higher-ups, who prioritized orders and tradition over compassion, whose unfeeling approach Gojo had seen all too often among those aligned with the elders.

Nanami Kento knew the type. They were the very people he’d worked so hard to avoid throughout his career, the type who saw Jujutsu sorcerers as tools more than as people, especially the students.

Now, with Gojo’s absence, Usami had stepped into a more central role at Jujutsu High, and Gojo wasn’t comfortable with it. Why would he? He’s still supporting the remaining conservative factions in Jujutsu High.

There was no other way to feel about it other than this, but concern. The return of a conservative faction, under Gakuganji, would stifle Gojo’s gambles these past few years. Gambles Kento had agreed with, even if not wholeheartedly.

“I don’t want him making decisions for my students, you know? I’m sure you agree about that with me too.” Gojo said bluntly, his tone carrying the usual lazy confidence but undercut by a genuine concern. “They’ve been through enough. They deserve someone who understands them.”

Kento could hear Gojo's frustration; it was an unusual tone in the voice of someone who otherwise seemed to brush off his troubles. And in that sentiment, Nanami found himself nodding in agreement. It didn’t sit well with him, either. But what could he do? He is retired now, isn't he? There was no need for this chatter.

Gojo, as though reading his hesitation, chuckled knowingly over the line. “Look, I’m technically retired too, Nanami. I know your feelings about this.” he said with that familiar cheek in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t meddle. Keeps me busy as I get old, you know? Gojo clan head is empty without any drama.”

There was a pause, and Kento didn’t know what to say. Gojo Satoru, even in their younger years, used his status to continue to advocate for his interests. And Kento didn’t like it as much, he was someone who liked rules, after all.

Even if he agreed with them, he thinks about the context of propriety. But he knows the soul of Gojo’s argument. He agrees with that. Gojo’s voice softened on the other line.

“Don’t you ever want to keep busy too? I mean, especially when your wife’s at her job? You’re both still in the thick of it, in your own ways. Being a house husband doesn’t always satisfy the itch. Before you rebuttal, you know I’m not lying. ”

Nanami sighed. Gojo’s words struck a nerve. He’s not wrong. Genmei–san also works still, helping out at temples when she has the time. Most of the time, if they weren’t on holiday, it would be Gojo waiting at home and taking care of their children. For a moment, Nanami sat down to think about it properly.

You were deeply invested in your work as a novelist. You adore it, you truly do. But often, it’s hard for you to deal with. You were just as much an independent person in your own right and that was your own mission, your own purpose.

He admired you for that, but there were times when he found himself wondering about his place. He adores taking care of you, he adores being by your side all the time. He adores being your house–husband.

But he often questions, besides that, away from the frontline, away from Jujutsu, what was his purpose now? Was he truly content to let the world of sorcery continue without him, even if it meant leaving those like Yuji to struggle without guidance? Or the kids? What can he do for them? What can he do now?

“Fine, Gojo.” Nanami finally muttered. “I’ll look into it. Just… don’t get used to this.” He could practically hear Gojo’s grin over the line, a smug sort of satisfaction that Nanami knew all too well.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Gojo replied smoothly in response. “But I’ll admit, it’s good to have you back, even if just for a little while.”

And so, he tried to muster the courage to tell you about what he had agreed to. Dinner was a warm, familiar ritual together. And by the beachside in Kuantan, everything about it was a wonder to behold.

The sounds of clinking plates and gentle conversation filled the room, and the two of you settled into the ease of being home together, savoring the evening without the rush of tomorrow hanging over you.

You were halfway through telling him about something small that had happened during your day at the market when he cleared his throat, a subtle shift in his usual, deliberate movements. His fingers, wrapped around his glass, seemed to tighten slightly. You looked at him a little bit confused.

“There’s something I need to tell you, my love.” he began, meeting your gaze with a calm determination. "I’ve decided… to return to Tokyo." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before he continued. "Jujutsu High needs someone to look after the first years. With Gojo retired, things are… in flux."

You blinked, feeling a jolt of surprise, but before you could fully react, he was already explaining, his tone quickening just a touch, as if he’d anticipated your questions. It was rare for your husband to be this way, to ramble about and have his bright brown eyes shake as he looked at you with a shaken uncertainty. But you know when he becomes this way, it’s because of things he cares about.

“It’s not active service, don’t worry about that, my love.” he assured, almost hurriedly, his hand drifting toward yours in an unspoken promise. “I’m not heading back into the field. It’s only to mentor the kids, give them someone they can rely on. They deserve that, especially now.”

You saw his resolve deepen as he spoke of them, the younger students who’d become like family over the years. His voice softened, and you could tell this wasn’t just about filling Gojo’s shoes.

"I can’t abandon Yuji, he’s already without someone. I can’t really do much more damage by leaving him without someone." he said with quiet conviction, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you understood.

“Kento—”

"I know how much he’s been through, and… I don’t want him facing it alone. Nobara, too—she’s so headstrong. She’ll need someone she can turn to, someone to help her channel all that fire. And Gojo’s bound to ask for updates on Fushiguro all the time. You know how he is with him. With them. I just….I just don’t want them to feel so alone about this at all. Usami is gaining some foothold and the conservatives are just….its complicated.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened, watching the familiar strength in his face, the quiet protector in him springing back to life. Passion was beautiful in your husband. Seeing even more alive with such caring passion makes you happy.

His gaze held yours, steady and honest, a reassurance that his heart was set on this, that he wasn’t leaving you behind but rather doing what he felt was right, the only thing that made sense.

You let the warmth you felt for him reflect in your smile, reaching for his hand as it rested between you. “Of course, Kento.” you replied softly, squeezing his fingers with encouragement. “They couldn’t have anyone better.”

A soft exhale escaped him, the tension leaving his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back. Relief and gratitude flickered across his face, the subtle shift of a man who didn’t often ask for things but knew he’d been understood completely. There was no need for grand gestures or lengthy explanations between the two of you; your silent agreement spoke volumes.

The conversation turned to lighter things, back to the warmth of dinner. But every so often, you caught his expression softening, a look of contentment and resolve, knowing he was about to embark on something meaningful, not just for him, but for those who needed him.

But of course, that also came with cons.

The move to Tokyo was a calm one.

But it was also a disastrous one, in his mind.

You were both too busy to spend time together.

The shift was subtle at first. Kento began to spend more and more hours at Jujutsu High, guiding the first years, sharing his experience, and quietly observing their progress. He’d come home later than usual, sometimes with papers under his arm and a faint weariness in his expression that he tried to mask with a smile.

Meanwhile, you were pouring yourself into your new book, the words and ideas flowing freely under the careful guidance of your new editor. It was an exciting time, both for your work and for him. There was a renaissance in your paths to life blossoming in your efforts. But there was a toll, a quiet distance neither of you fully acknowledged.

One evening, you noticed the weight in his gaze as he joined you at the table. He seemed quieter, his usual calm presence tinged with something else; something like sadness. You set down your work, reaching across to hold his hand, catching the faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“Things have been so busy lately, my love.” he murmured, his voice soft, almost reluctant to admit it aloud. “I miss being able to spend more time with you.”

Your heart softened at his honesty, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I miss it too, Kento.” you replied, meeting his gaze with reassurance. “But you know how this is… the busy season. Soon, I’ll be back to post-writing mode, and we’ll have more time to do things together. This won’t last forever.”

He nodded, his lips curling into a small, understanding smile. “You’re right. It’s just… different.” There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, but it was short-lived.

As the weeks went on, your new editor’s involvement became more intense, often stretching into late-night calls or spontaneous meetings that kept you occupied well beyond the hours you’d once spent with Kento.

He’d catch you on the phone, your voice animated in a way that was hard to miss, even as he stood in the doorway waiting for a chance to say goodnight. It was hard to deal with, day by day.

But he said nothing, keeping his feelings carefully hidden behind the same mask of calm he’d worn so well for years. But you could sense it, the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on you just a little longer.

It was as if he was hoping you’d glance up, catch his eye, and read the unspoken questions there. In the quiet moments, he’d watch you, a silent longing in his gaze, feeling the bittersweet ache of being close but somehow… not close enough.

It was an unspoken tension, a soft thread pulled too tight between the two of you. And though he never voiced it, you began to sense how much he missed you—not just physically, but in all the little moments you once shared, now slipping through his fingers.

After all, you guys were all you truly had in all these times. He would always crave everything about you. About loving you, about being close to you. Just you. He missed you.

Nanam Kento was sure that he hadi tried to be patient. He reminded himself, over and over, that this was temporary, just a busy period that would eventually pass. He knew how much this book meant to you and understood how important it was to have an editor who could match your energy and vision.

But despite all his quiet resolve, he couldn’t ignore the pang of envy that crept in every time he saw you light up, laughing or discussing something animatedly over the phone.

The way you and your editor connected; it was undeniable. The easy flow between you two, the synergy that seemed to bridge ideas without any need for words, stirred something unsettled in him.

He would come home from a long day at Jujutsu high, weary but hopeful to catch up with you. Instead, he’d often find you mid-call, your voice carrying hints of excitement he hadn’t heard in a while. You’d wave him a quick greeting, mouthing that you’d be off soon, but “soon” stretched, and his footsteps grew slower on his way to your side.

It wasn’t that he doubted you or the love between you two. He trusted you deeply. But the way you seemed to come alive with this editor… it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He knew you and this person worked well together, that they understood your work and helped bring out your best ideas.

He understood it logically, but logic did little to quell the feeling of being left on the sidelines. After all, it was a feeling he recognized too well—the familiar ache of watching from a distance, of caring deeply and yet holding his tongue.

Some nights, he’d sit across from you at dinner, glancing up occasionally, only to see you distracted, your mind clearly still on your work. Or you’d mention a new idea your editor had suggested, a change you hadn’t considered but were now eager to explore.

And though he nodded, offering his encouragement, he couldn’t shake the thought: When was the last time I could make her smile like that?

As the weeks went by, he felt it more keenly, this quiet envy of the time you spent together. It wasn’t that he begrudged you for the partnership, but he couldn’t help wishing that he could have more of that side of you for himself; the side that was vibrant and full of life, that spark of curiosity and joy he’d always adored.

Nanami Kento wasn’t one to give voice to his insecurities easily, and he knew how silly he might sound, envious over something so innocent. He was a secured man, in all the ways he knew he was. He knew that too well. Yet as much as he told himself it was foolish, the feeling lingered.

So he held back, watching you in those moments with a quiet ache, determined to keep his envy hidden. He’d stay later at the school, throw himself into lesson planning, sometimes even offer to cover additional duties, as though it might distract him. But each time he came home, seeing you lost in conversation or laughter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, for now, a part of you belonged to someone else.

He told himself it was just work. You had deadlines; he understood that. But there was something else. Whenever your phone pinged with a message, you’d check it quickly, smile to yourself, then type out a reply, sometimes with a small laugh or a shake of your head. And every time, he’d feel a sharp pang of something foreign to him: jealousy.

Kento tried to reason with himself. You were his wife, and he trusted you implicitly. You had built a life together, one based on love, understanding, and mutual respect. But that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in his chest whenever he saw you so absorbed in those messages or whenever he saw that spark of excitement in your eyes when you talked about the feedback your editor gave you.

He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake the thought. When he saw you typing away late into the evening, smiling at the screen, a quiet worry settled in the back of his mind. What was this editor like? Why did their input seem to matter so much to you? And why did Kento, who usually approached everything in life with composure, find himself so deeply unsettled?

Tonight, though, he’d had enough. He stood in the doorway to your office, watching you as you leaned over your laptop, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fully immersed in your work.

You looked beautiful, more beautiful than ever, but that same nagging feeling of jealousy coiled tighter in his chest. And before he could stop himself, something in him just snapped.

“So, my love.” he said, his voice calm yet edged with tension. “Another late night, huh?”

“Yeah, it would seem so!” You retort, noticing him. “You’ve just come home?”

“Just a while ago.” He says to you, watching you turn your head back to your computer. You were typing even faster. He was sure you were trying to finish it, now that he was home.

You looked up once again, a soft smile lighting up your face. “I didn’t even hear you come in. You came in as sly as a little cat!” You stretched, setting aside your laptop and glancing at him warmly. “I was just going over some notes. The editor had a few thoughts on the latest chapter.”

”Did he have any suggestions for this part?" he asked, casually trying to keep his tone even as he nodded toward your screen.

You looked up, clearly surprised. "Who, my editor?"

"Yeah, my love." he said, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he leaned against the doorframe. "It just seems like he's been really… involved in your work lately."

You tilted your head, noticing the unusual tension in his voice, the way his words held a heaviness that wasn’t like him. “Well, that’s what they’re paid to do, you know?” you replied gently, hoping to keep things light, maybe coax a smile out of him.

But his expression didn’t shift. You could tell almost immediately. Instead, his eyes held a quiet, guarded intensity that stopped you in your tracks. Realizing this was more than a casual remark, you closed your laptop, giving him your full attention.

“Kento… Is something wrong?” you asked, voice soft, searching his face for a sign of what was going on inside him.

He crossed his arms, hesitating. For a moment, he almost looked as if he wanted to brush it off, to go back to his usual collected demeanor, but he stopped. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that caught you off guard.

“I know it’s irrational, and I know it’s probably nothing.” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But… I don’t like seeing you so wrapped up in this person’s feedback. You’ve been smiling at your phone more than you do at me lately, and I’m… not exactly used to feeling like this.”

The vulnerability in his words, the admission from someone usually so calm and composed, made your heart soften instantly. You reached out, covering his hand with yours, feeling the tension there, the way his fingers reflexively squeezed back.

“Kento, baby.” you said, voice warm. “You don’t have to feel that way. No editor or anyone else could ever mean as much to me as you do. None of them are you. There’s only one of you, you know?”

He relaxed just a little, his shoulders easing as he let your words sink in. But he didn’t let go of that guarded look, the one that still held a hint of uncertainty. “Then why does it feel like I’m… competing for your attention?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a simple question, but the way he asked it, with a vulnerability that you knew he rarely revealed, struck you deeply.

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I didn’t realize how it looked.” you admitted, your thumb brushing lightly along his hand. “It’s just… I got excited about the project, and the new feedback’s been inspiring. But…I’m so sorry for not noticing or making you feel that way, baby.”

You reached out, tracing a gentle hand down his arm, feeling the tension start to melt away as you looked into his eyes. “None of that compares to what I have with you. I hope you know that. You’re the one I come home to, Kento. You’re the one who matters most. I love you. Only you.”

He seemed to exhale, his expression softening. You could see the quiet relief in his eyes, the way the tension finally started to lift, and it made you want to close whatever lingering distance was left between you. And then, his voice, low and almost hesitant, broke the silence.

“Tell me, my love.” he whispered, barely above a murmur. “Tell me that you want me. Just… say it.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice, that rare openness he was offering, made your heart ache in the best way. You don’t think you had ever felt like this before Kento. But every day since then, your heart has created more motions you could never understand. And you know, you just knew – it was because you loved him more than anything in life.

Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him.

“Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and before either of you could say another word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. The warmth you had come to hold onto in this life.

You sank into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your ear. There was a familiar comfort there, a quiet strength in his embrace, that had always felt like home.

For a few moments, you both stayed that way, close and quiet, as if the world outside had faded and left only the two of you. He lifted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead/

Kento murmured into your hair, his voice gentle. “Promise me you’ll take a break from work. I’ll do it too. We’ll spend time together. Just us. No one else.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Of course, my baby. I can postpone everything else. If it’s you, everything else can wait. My husband being happy is more important to me!” you whispered.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, and he held you a little tighter, his own smile finally breaking through, his usual calm confidence restored. For Kento, there was no greater feeling than knowing you were his and that you were here, sharing this quiet, peaceful moment with him.

As he held you close, he felt a deep contentment, one he rarely allowed himself to savor. The jealousy that had once gripped him faded entirely, replaced by a quiet certainty. Of course there should be. Why wouldn't there be?

The certainty that your love, your life together, was the one thing in the world he could rely on. That he was sure. You love him, after all. And as he closed his eyes, resting his chin atop your head, he silently thanked the universe for you, for this love that was more real, more enduring, than any fleeting worry or passing jealousy.

This, he thought to himself, was where he belonged.

Right here, in this moment, in your arms.

Nowhere else can compare to this.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AND HAVE A PICNIC. The night before you had agreed that it would be nice to enjoy the Tokyo sun, and have a picnic at the park. You talked about a cat cafe nearby too. He talked about how the yakisoba dish was introduced at his favorite restaurant. There were new spots popping out in Tokyo for you both to check out.

That’s what you agreed on. Today was supposed to be simple, a peaceful day just to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But the moment you woke up and felt his gaze linger a bit longer.

Slowly, smoothly, you could feel his hand finding the curve of your waist, you knew that quiet was about to turn into something much more intense. You knew your husband too well. When he’s hungry — he remains hungry.

He pulled you close, his grip both gentle and possessive as his eyes darkened. “Mine, only mine.” he murmured, the word almost a growl, his fingers tracing your skin like he wanted to memorize every part of you.

The world around you melted away as he took his time, every kiss and touch filled with a need that made your heart race. You let him, giving himself over as he murmured softly against your skin, “My pretty wife… just for me.”

You could feel him stretching you out so perfectly with his fingers, causing you to moan loudly. Your husband was good, too good at everything he does. But when it comes to you, he was beyond excellent. Your eyes felt hazy as he looked at you with that predatory stare. You held him even closer, your moan getting louder.

Your head turns awry with the high as you continue to ride his fingers as he kisses your neck, you're stuck against the wall occupied by him. No one, not even your previous lovers, those green boy boyfriends were able to make you feel this good.

No one could make you feel this way. Only him. Only your husband, your Kento. And every single time, he knew it. Even with his jealousy, he knew it. You were always going to fold when it’s him. Only him.

“K–Kento.” you moan out, your voice breathless as you rock against his fingers, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. “You’re… you’re… oh—”

His eyes darken with desire, and a sly smile creeps onto his lips. “That’s it, my love.” he replies, his voice low and filled with warmth.

He peppered soft kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fire inside you that burned brighter with every passing second. His fingers pushed deeper, faster, and you felt so incredibly full, the exquisite stretch making your head spin.

“Come. Come for me.” he urged, his words wrapping around you like a spell, both a command and an invitation. The way he held you against the wall, the heat radiating from his body, only heightened the electric connection between you.

Every kiss he placed on your skin felt like a promise, an affirmation of the bond you shared. No one else had ever made you feel this way; so cherished and desired. With him, you were always ready to surrender completely, to give in to the overwhelming pleasure that built within you. Nothing else can compare with what you feel for your husband. Nothing.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body responding instinctively to his every touch. He was so good at remembering where to touch you next. After being together for this long, Kento knew your body even better than you. He knows how to make you cry, how to make you moan. He knows everything.

“Kento.” you gasped, the sound a mix of pleasure and longing, and as his fingers curled just right, that coil finally snapped. Your body shuddered, a wave of bliss crashing over you, leaving you breathless as you surrendered to the moment, lost in the magic of him.

You looked up at him, and his gaze was intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger that sent a rush of warmth through you. Without a word, he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with a fervor that reignited the fire within.

His movements were slow at first, but as he pushed his fingers one by one, even deeper, your moans escaped you uncontrollably, pulling him closer as you urged him on, wanting nothing more than to feel every bit of him.

Somehow, you had been able to accommodate every tight, muscular finger in his hand. And you knew it felt good. He knew it felt good. Because he knew just what to do. No one else would. Only Kento would.

He responded with a low, pleased growl, the sound reverberating through his chest as his free hand tightened around your hip, holding you possessively against him.

There was an undeniable power in the way he claimed you, every inch of his touch a reminder of the connection you shared. You felt cherished and owned, completely his in this intimate moment.

Each thrust of his fingers sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, each stroke deliberate and filled with purpose. Your body responded eagerly, arching into him as you surrendered fully to the sensations, every moan escaping your lips urging him on.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only you, him, and the electric energy that wrapped around you both, binding you together in a rhythm that felt both primal and tender.

As the intensity of the moment deepened, you could feel the heat radiating from him, a tangible connection that anchored you both in a world of your own. His lips traveled down to your neck, trailing kisses that ignited your skin, leaving behind a trail of fire. You could feel the way he held you, his grip firm yet gentle, and it made you crave more, the need building inside you like a rising tide.

“Just like that, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing. The sound of his voice sent a thrill through you, adding to the layers of pleasure that enveloped you.

He continued to move his fingers with a deliberate slowness, coaxing every last ounce of ecstasy from your body. Each time he pushed deeper, you gasped, the sensations pulling you closer to the edge once again.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could merge your bodies into one. Drool started to form from your lips as he thrusted even deeper, pleasure repetitive in your lips to his ears. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed making a mess of you way too much.

“K–kento. Oh my….g—oddddd…..” you breathed, the urgency in your voice echoing your desire. You needed him, all of him, and you wanted to feel that connection intensify. He looked into your eyes, and in that moment, you saw the depth of his love mirrored in his gaze, a promise that went beyond the physical.

He quickened his pace slightly, and you felt every pulse of his fingers inside you, each thrust igniting a new wave of pleasure. You could sense the hunger in him, a deep-seated need to feel you unravel beneath him.

“You’re perfect, aren't you?” he said, the words reverberating through you as you lost yourself in the moment. His possessiveness only heightened your arousal, each stroke of his fingers an affirmation that you belonged to him, and he to you.

With every thrust, every kiss, you felt the world around you blur, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of passion. Your bodies moved together as if they were made to fit, every touch syncing perfectly. You surrendered completely, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, pulling you under and lifting you higher.

“Come for me again, my love.” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with desire. You could feel the pressure building once more, and with a desperate need, you clung to him, riding the waves of sensation that coursed through you.

The world outside faded entirely as you focused on the way he made you feel—alive, cherished, and utterly consumed by the moment. And as you finally tipped over the edge into bliss, you knew that this was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, lost in your shared passion.

As the world outside faded into a distant hum, you and Kento found yourselves enveloped in an intimate cocoon, where it was just the two of you. His gaze held yours, deep and searching, as if he were reading the unspoken words that danced between you. The air was thick with anticipation, and your heart raced in sync with the pulse of the moment.

With a gentle touch, he caressed your cheek, his fingers trailing down to your neck, igniting sparks of warmth beneath his fingertips. The softness of his touch contrasted with the burning desire that simmered between you, creating a perfect tension that left you breathless. You leaned into him, craving the connection that felt both familiar and exhilarating.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with warmth, laced with a hint of playful teasing that made your stomach flutter. You nodded, feeling a rush of trust and excitement wash over you. You knew he would take care of you, just as he always did.

As he shifted closer, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. When he entered you, it was as if time stood still. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy that made you gasp softly. You could feel every inch of him, filling you completely, as he took his time, letting you adjust to the fullness.

Kento's eyes never left yours, and in that moment, you felt utterly cherished. Each movement was deliberate, as if he were savoring the connection between your bodies and the bond you shared. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both surrendered to the rhythm of your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, and you could feel the sincerity in his words.

Those simple words sent a wave of warmth through you, making you feel both desired and loved. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer, as if you could merge your souls together.

He held you firmly, as though afraid to let go, fingers pressing into your skin with a hunger that left no doubt of his intentions. His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, gripping you with an intensity that was both grounding and electric, each touch sparking a heat that made you shiver.

The way he held you was raw and consuming, as though he wanted to memorize the feeling of you beneath his hands, every curve, every softness. He knew everything like the back of his hand/

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against your skin, each kiss he placed making you arch closer, melting into the strength of his hold. The roughness of his grip, his possessive energy, pulled you deeper.

It was like he was marking you as his, his touch heavy with a passion that left you breathless. He looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense, a silent promise of everything he wanted to give, everything he wanted to take.

The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, his warmth surrounding you, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way. Every inch of you felt alive under his touch, every nerve alight with a need that only he could satisfy.

His hands continued to explore, leaving trails of warmth, his touch demanding yet tender, as if reassuring you that he was there, and you were his.

The heat between you intensified, his hands roaming slowly, leaving a trail of tingling warmth wherever they went. You trembled, feeling the power behind every touch, every possessive whisper.

You could feel him drinking in the sight of you, holding you close as if he didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t rushed; it was filled with a focused, possessive affection that only made you crave him more.

Time blurred as his movements became a mix of gentleness and intensity. His hands slid lower, holding you firmly, possessively, as he whispered your name.

His words washed over you, filled with longing and satisfaction as he whispered, “You’re mine. Only mine.” Each soft murmur made your breath catch, his voice rough with devotion.

Your husband had always had a way of grounding you, pulling you back to him in the moments you needed it most. He held you with a quiet strength, his touches both comforting and electric, each caress more deliberate than the last.

When the busy schedules and late nights began to take their toll, you’d find yourself in his arms, feeling the tension melt away as he made you his world.

He was possessive in the gentlest way, his lips tracing along your skin, his voice murmuring low, tender words that anchored you to the present.

"Mine, mine." he'd say, over and over, his voice a husky whisper as he pressed deeper, slow and unhurried, savoring each moment. "My beautiful wife, my one and only."

You let yourself unravel under his touch, feeling each surge of pleasure as he pulled you closer, his mouth finding yours in heated kisses, his hands firm as they held you against him. The world outside faded, and there was only him—each movement, each shudder of pleasure woven with his love and need for you.

And as your body trembled, giving in to the pleasure he offered, he’d whisper words that sent warmth spiraling through you: His only. His good girl. His good little wife.

With every pulse and every breath, he made you his, claiming you in the way only he could, and you felt yourself give in, letting him take what he needed, knowing that he was yours just as deeply.

In these moments, he was entirely yours, just as you were his, both of you wrapped up in a world where only the two of you existed. And as he held you close, that familiar need he had for you was clear in his eyes, you could feel the depth of his love; the way he wanted you, needed you—all pouring out with each possessive word and touch.

Every thrust was slow and measured, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose, as if Kento were painting a masterpiece with your bodies.

He took his time, carefully crafting a rhythm that drew you both closer to the edge of ecstasy, like the steady buildup of a powerful wave ready to crash upon the shore. Each moment felt like an eternity, stretched and molded by his touch, igniting every nerve ending with heat and longing.

Kento relished in the way you responded to him, the way your body quivered beneath him, your breaths coming in soft gasps that filled the space between you.

He liked making you wait, savoring the way your eyes widened in need and your body writhed, pleading for more. The way you mewled over and over again, lost in the depths of desire, was music to his ears, a siren call that drove him further into the depths of his own hunger for you.

“Please, Kento. More. More—” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation, the need pooling in the pit of your stomach. Each word was a plea, a yearning that echoed in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“P–please….pleaseeeee…..”

A teasing smile played on his lips as he leaned down, his breath warm against your neck. He bit gently into your flesh, a sweet sting that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to moan, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming sensations flooding your body.

“Enjoy it, my love. Enjoy the slow burn.” he murmured, his voice low and husky, wrapping around you like a silken ribbon. “Let’s have fun, hm?”

His words were a command and a caress, urging you to embrace the intensity of the moment. The way he spoke your name, the way he held you, felt like a tether pulling you deeper into the shared experience. You were both caught in a delicate dance, a balance of power and surrender, where every pause and every gentle caress built anticipation.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined, lost in the growing tension between your bodies. Kento was in control, but you loved it. You loved the way he took his time, how each thrust felt like an exploration, a journey into the very essence of what it meant to be together.

He would withdraw slightly, teasing you with the promise of more, before plunging back into you with a slow, deliberate push that sent sparks of pleasure radiating from the core of your being.

Each pulse of his body against yours was a reminder of his possession, of the bond you shared that was both beautiful and intoxicating. The slow burn he created enveloped you, igniting your senses and drawing you closer to the precipice of your desires. You could feel the heat building within you, an insistent wave that throbbed and twisted, desperate for release.

“Just like that, my love.” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Let it build. Let it consume you.”

You let his words command you, letting them wash over you as you melted into the sensations. Every tear that fell was a blessing of pleasure and the pain mingling together, a sweet agony that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

You could feel your heart racing, your breaths quickening, as you approached that sweet, familiar edge, caught between the bliss of the moment and the urgency of your need.

With every deep stroke, you felt a delicious tension building within you, a tightness that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Each time he filled you completely, it ignited a spark of pleasure that resonated deep in your core, drawing soft gasps from your lips. Your husband was a great lover. Perhaps the best there ever was.

You surrendered to him fully, giving yourself over to the sensations that enveloped you. The outside world faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you entwined in this intimate dance. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, made every moment feel precious.

You can only focus on him. Only him. He was what mattered. The way his eyes held yours, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes of his love and desire.

You could write as many beautiful works as you could ever want. But perhaps the most beautiful creation in your life was him. Loving Nanami Kento was your most beautiful creation.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel. It was a combination of love and raw passion, an electric current that flowed between you, binding you together in a way that felt profoundly intimate.

Every caress of his hands, every whispered word, heightened your awareness of him, igniting your senses and making you acutely aware of the depth of your connection.

You could feel his warmth enveloping you, a comforting presence that made you feel safe yet desired. The way he moved, the way he took his time to explore every inch of you, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection and longing.

With each thrust, you could feel your bodies communicating in a language all your own, a silent exchange that deepened the bond between you.

As you both lost yourselves in each other, the outside world faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you entwined in a universe of your own making.

The air around you thickened with anticipation, and every touch felt electric, as if the very essence of your connection pulsed between you. As if you truly belonged together.

You could sense the tension coiling tighter, each movement a languid dance that drew you deeper into an exquisite rhythm, a beautiful synergy that melded your souls together and ignited a fire within you that felt utterly intoxicating.

“Kento, I’m coming. I’m so close.” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as desire swirled through your veins.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, his lips soft yet insistent, igniting a cascade of shivers that traveled down your spine. “Come for me, baby. Let go.” he urged, his voice low and rich with promise, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

That was when he shifted, his movements quickening, a sudden urgency that sent your heart racing. The delicious friction intensified, and with each thrust, the world outside vanished completely, leaving only the two of you in a haze of passion.

Every kiss, every whisper, every pulse of his body against yours propelled you closer to that blissful edge, where pleasure and surrender intertwined, drawing you both into a beautiful climax that promised to sweep you away entirely.

As Kento quickened his pace, the urgency of his movements sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building to a peak that felt both thrilling and inevitable.

The air around you crackled with electricity, every sensation heightened as he pressed deeper, claiming you in a way that made your heart race and your body ache for more. His breaths came in ragged gasps, mingling with the sound of skin against skin, each thrust driving you further into a euphoric haze.

“My love, I’m so close.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m….I’m gonna come.”

You could see the raw need in his gaze, the way he was completely lost in the moment, just as you were. It was intoxicating to know that you had this effect on him, that you could pull him into this blissful space where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

“I want you, baby.” you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency as you felt that familiar coil tightening within you. “I need you.”

“D’ you want me inside, hm? Where do you want me?”

You moan, thinking about how hot it was. How hotter it would be to have him inside of you. “I-inside me. Please. Please. Make me full.”

“Y’d like that? You want me to make you full of me, my love?”

“Yes, yes, o–oh, yes—”

With a low growl, Kento shifted his focus, pushing into you with a deep, purposeful thrust that sent stars dancing behind your eyelids. The world outside was a distant memory, all that existed was the heat building between you, a fire that consumed you both whole.

His movements were rhythmic yet fervent, each push coaxing you closer to the edge, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. It felt so good. It felt way too good and you wanted it to last forever.

“Let go, my love.” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers coursing through your body. “I’m right there with you.”

And then, with a final, deep thrust, you felt him come inside you, warmth flooding you as he released with a low groan, his body pulsing against yours. The sensation was overwhelming—a rush of heat that spread through you, mingling with your own climax as pleasure washed over you in waves, leaving you breathless and trembling benea

th him.

You held on closer to him, taking in a new dawn’s breath.

You were so in love with this man, more than you know.

And he was the same — he couldn’t get enough of loving you.

“You know, if I had known jealousy would make you like this…” you finally say, your voice still laced with breathlessness as you regain your composure.

The warmth of the moment lingers around you like a soft blanket, and you can feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body. Kento’s kisses trail along your glistening skin, each gentle press of his lips a sweet reminder of the connection you’ve just shared.

His lips are soft against you, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and the scent of your mingled skin fills the air with a heady sweetness that is all-consuming.

“I would get you jealous often, baby.” you tease, a playful smile curving your lips as you look down at him.

Kento pauses, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his expression a mixture of amusement and mock seriousness. “Is that so?” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends a delightful shiver through you.

The intensity in his eyes is unmistakable, a mix of possessiveness and affection that makes your heart flutter.You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound echoing around you in the intimate space you’ve created together.

“Absolutely. You should see how cute you get when you’re all riled up, baby.” you say, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “Fiesty and all.”

His lips curve into a smirk, and he leans closer, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re lucky I’m not the type to stay jealous for long, my love.” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “But if it means I get to have you like this…”

His voice trails off, and he plants a series of soft kisses down your neck, each one sending delightful tingles racing across your skin. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to relish the sensations he stirs within you.

“You’re incorrigible sometimes, Kento.” you whisper, feeling the weight of his affection enveloping you. The playful banter only adds to the intimacy, making it all the more special, as if you were sharing a secret joke that only the two of you understood.

“Only for you, my love.” he replies, his voice sincere as he pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “But really, seeing you light up like that—it’s worth it. Just know I’ll always come back to claim what’s mine.”

epilogue

As the soft glow of the evening light filtered through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room, you and Kento found yourselves nestled comfortably together. You hadn’t left the bed much since this morning.

And your husband was incredibly happy about that. He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Everything about the room smelt like sex and sweat, that was to be expected. Your husband’s insatiable when he gets into it.

But the atmosphere was relaxed and intimate, the air filled with the kind of warmth that comes from deep affection. Everything about the aftermath was the passion of lovers who will always be in love.

And you couldn't help but admit that you felt blessed with that. This passion between you and Kento, it will never die. For bitter, for worse, for good and better — you will always have this. You will always be together like this.

After a playful exchange repeating over and over again, you both took breaks in between. For a while, you both watched some television. Kento seems to enjoy Love Island, so he wants to watch the whole series with you now. A little while later, the two of you talked a little bit about the little things you’ve seen and done lately.

Soon enough, you were sure you were hungry. Kento immediately kissed you and went to the kitchen, coming back with some bowls of favorite snacks and some refreshing drinks, on ice.

But of course, he urged you to drink the water most. With all the screaming he’s made you do, he’s a little bit more worried about your voice,

You both conversed about silly things now, laughing at how Yuji seems to be as silly as ever before. About how Gakuganji seems to continue to be annoyed by Gojo Satoru’s phone calls.

But then he talked about Gojo Satoru expecting another child on the way, albeit accidental. In that moment, you realized it was that moment. So, you took a moment to shift the conversation to that.

“You know, baby…..” you began, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know you’re still busy, I’ve been thinking maybe….just maybe…”

“You know surprises aren’t needed.” He laughs, lowering his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I know, I know.” You roll your eyes playfully but let out a small smile, leaning against his chest. “Don’t you think it’s time we consider having kids soon. I’m really happy to make that happen soon.”

Kento turned to you, his brow raising in playful skepticism, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Is that so? You’re ready to dive into the chaos of parenting, my love? You know it’s a lot of work, right?” He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting, filling the space between you.

You couldn’t help but grin back, your heart fluttering at the prospect. “Of course! But I think it would be so worth it. Just imagine our little ones running around, making messes and keeping us on our toes.”

He smiles at you fondly. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I know so.” You grinned at him. “I can also see you being the doting dad, teaching them all about fighting and how to protect themselves. Or you know, just making some bread from home! I do miss authentic rye bread from an expert in Danish baked goods. Imagine how our kids will feel when they eat it too!”

He laughed, a rich, hearty sound that echoed in the room and made you feel light with joy. “You think so? I suppose you’re right, my love. I can already picture myself getting wrapped around their little fingers. They’d have me wrapped around their hearts in no time.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart swell with happiness.

Everything about your husband makes you feel happy everyday.

If life were to teach what happiness looks like, it would be him.

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. “And they’d have your strength and my charm. Can you imagine how adorable they’d be?”

Kento’s expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You know, I’ve always wanted that. A family with you. You make everything better.” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, igniting a sense of hope and love within you.

“So, you’re on board with the idea?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with anticipation.

“Absolutely, my love.” he replied, that playful smirk returning to his face. “But first, I think we need to indulge in another round of this.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and captured your lips in a kiss that sent shivers down your spine. You melted against him, losing yourself in the moment, the kiss deepening as he pulled you closer.

It was intoxicating, filled with a mix of passion and love that made your heart race. Everything about Kento was just a pool you wanna drown in. Everything about him was worth drowning in. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other, a perfect blend of laughter, warmth, and desire.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your cheeks flushed with warmth, Kento looked at you with that glint of mischief in his eyes that you adored.

“Okay, let’s talk about the details later, my love.” he said, grinning widely. “But for now, I think we have some important work to do to ensure that happens.”

With that, he pulled you back into another passionate kiss, laughter bubbling between you as you savored the moment. You felt the electric connection between you, the promise of a beautiful future hanging in the air, ripe with possibilities.

As you both continued to kiss, the playful banter resumed, filled with sweet nothings and playful teasing about the “practice” needed for the future family you envisioned. After all, practice makes perfect.

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cryinggirlnamedhelen · 3 months ago

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More Loser!Chrollo since yall seem to love him

MDNI - obsessed nerd!Chrollo - modern AU

Loser!Chrollo, who is much more smug and adorably dramatic than you’d have ever thought he would be. If he were to kneel down to tie your shoelaces for you, he would make such a big deal out of it and started saying some corny shit about proposing and getting married.

Loser!Chrollo, who loves studying with you. Well, not really studying. He doesn’t need to study, he’s smart enough already. But he loves that focused look on your face when you’re reading about science or history to get a good grade on the test. He may have snapped a few pictures of you too—not that he would ever tell you, of course.

Loser!Chrollo, whose pain is indescribable when graduation hits and you both have to go your separate ways. He swears when walking you to your house after the graduation party that he’ll glow up, become successful, find you again, and marry you so that you would never have to feel ashamed about dating such a weirdo—you don’t think he realizes that you’re not embarrassed in the least.

Loser!Chrollo, who knew that he technically did break up with you, but since you’re going to meet up again one day and get together again, it doesn’t count…right? Well, he hopes that it doesn’t count as breaking up.

Loser!Chrollo, who thinks about you every moment of the day, even when you’re gone. His camera roll is filled with nothing but pictures of you just so he could make sure that he never forgets how you look like no matter how long the two of you are apart.

Loser!Chrollo, who worries that you might’ve moved on and found another guy in your college. After all, you’ve changed your number (he doesn’t actually know if you did, he’s just going to the best conclusion…and he’s right, right? Yep, he’s right. Yep, you’re totally not ignoring him. Not. Ignoring. Him.)

Loser!Chrollo, who is pretty damn close to dying on spot when he’s offered a role for a new movie. Sure, he doesn’t have much experience, but he’s a hell of a good actor and also quite good looking if he just fixes a few appearance flaws here and there. He’s so excited to tell you about getting a role—that is until he remembers you basically stopped texting him back.

Loser!Chrollo, who is now 23 and raising his eyebrows at the random phone call he just got from a random number. It sounds like a high school classmate’s voice, but the moment he hears your name, “drunk”, and “needs to be picked up”, he knows exactly what’s going on and instantly begins driving to said location that the person on the other side of the line said. Oh how he can’t wait to see you again.

Loser!Chrollo, who can’t help but laugh when your drunken form—red faced and warm—runs over to hug him, mumbling about how you thought he “found some hot and busty other woman and forgot about me”. Chrollo thinks it’s ridiculous, really. There was literally no one in the world other than you who was hot or even good looking.

Loser!Chrollo, who isn’t so much of a loser anymore. You’re carried into his damn large mansion, and in the blink of an eye—you’re married, living a stable life as a working wife and a working husband, you have 3 kids, and Chrollo’s trying to convince you to adopt a cat.

this was so rushed lmao…i might make a loser!choso one soon because goddamn i love black haired emo boys who are way too responsible for their own good—but i also love megumi too, so maybe i just like emo boys.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #hxh hcs #hxh x reader #chrollo hcs #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo x y/n #chrollo smut #chrollo x reader #chrollo x you

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the-kr8tor · 2 months ago

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I have a request(if you do them. if you don’t that’s okay :] ). It’s for like Cowboy! And Dad!Hobie. So like you know how Dogs get really clingy to their owners when they’re pregnant, so like what if Hobie’s horse was like really clingy to R when she’s pregnant. Like Hobie had to go do something with the horse(forgot the name mb😭), and like it wouldn’t leave R.

-🪷

Ahhhh I missed cowboy! Hobie dearly!! Thank you for the adorable request! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, mum! Reader, pregnancy talk, cowboy! Hobie, dad! Hobie, set after OPIN, twin au, parent au, fluff!

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

Bucky seems to have taken you as his hostage, leaving Cherry all alone to graze the field. She seems to not mind the peace and quiet free from him, but a certain someone definitely minds that he's clinging to you more than he should to you.

“Right!” Hobie drops the hay bale in front of Bucky, whose head is laying right on your lap and sighing like a lovelorn schoolboy. He plopped himself as you were minding your own business while gardening. “Get back to your own wife, Buckeye.” He points at Cherry, who immediately trots away. You can't help but grin at the word.

Hobie's stubborn horse just neighs at him, lips waving before he drops his head atop your lap again while his eyes softly gaze at you. He reminds you of a certain cowboy.

“C’mon! Up you get, you big lump of—”

“He's just clingy.” You say, hand beckoning Hobie over right next to you on the grass as the orange sunset paints your little farm into a pretty scene. “I think he knows about the…” gesturing around your stomach, you see Hobie's annoyed expression turn into a gentle one.

He sighs, fixing his denim jeans, surrendering as he sits down behind you and carefully pulling you down to lay against his chest. “You can say it, y'know, he can't understand you.” Looking down at you fondly, his hand slides down to your stomach to cradle the small bump. “Unless you're conversin' with them like always.”

You crane your head up, smiling sweetly at him whilst you place your hand atop his own, feeling his warmth against the rough leather gloves. “I always talk to them. Riri says I'm doing it right since they're intelligent creatures.”

“Jus' be careful, you might give birth to a centaur if you hang around ‘em too much.” He flicks the brim of your gardening hat up to see your face fully.

Your giggles gather Cherry's attention, making her look at the three of you with curiosity. Bucky snorts on your lap, probably annoyed that your attention is halved now that his rider is here to take it.

“That's a terrifying thought, Hobs.” You stretch your neck to kiss his chin, and he meets you halfway. Soft lips meeting your own as the breeze passes by, blowing away your gardening hat. “Oh!” Laughing, you pull away from the kiss briefly, hand placed atop your head before pecking his lips once more when you've accepted that it's gone into the tall grass.

Hobie chuckles at your hat that's now running away from the farm. So to shield you away from the sun, he puts his own hat atop your head with a smile.

“There, can't have you sweatin’ under the sun now, hm?” Nudging his nose against your own, you hum against his warmth, heart feeling full as your hand rubs gently at Bucky's mane when you feel him stir.

“Can't have your son sweating inside too.”

Hobie smiles atop your lips before leaving a chaste kiss. “Could be a daughter. Or two.” Ripping off his gloves, he takes your face gently before kissing every space on your face.

“Another scary thought!” You say, unbeknownst to the two bundles that you're about to meet in nine months.

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tired-reader-writer · 3 days ago

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Thinking about Wolfsong. I initially had Narsus only find out about the whole Gorgan fiasco after canon events start but recently, I've been kinda reconsidering it. Here is a dump of my thought process in no particular order:

So Narsus likely got the court position pretty soon after the whole Three Kingdoms Alliance thing

Shapur is likely involved in repelling said invasion because 1) Andragoras summoned pretty much almost anyone, and 2) it's coming from the east and his lands are in the northeast, Andragoras might want to mobilize the troops to... Peshawar, perhaps? Before the invading troops can penetrate too deep into the country. Many lords were called, yes, but someone like Shapur, whose domain borders Turk, could possibly be doubly expected to respond since this concerns his region. Just food for thought.

I'm not sure about Narsus' timeline in several parts. How long before the TKA was it that Teos died and Narsus became the new lord of Daylam? Was it then that he freed his slaves? Or was it after the TKA ordeal?

He pretty much self-exiled in Pars era 317, so at MOST he would've had two years. Did he live full-time in the capital? Did he ever return to Daylam, even if just briefly? The Daylami seemed pretty familiar with him.

Now that I think about it, Narsus and his mother (I need to name the lady) were kicked out by Teos' main wife and then were accepted back when the wife passed away some time before Teos' death, so maybe he got more time in Daylam than I thought. The problem is that I forgot when he and his mother were accepted back?

Anyways, this opportunity for an encounter between the two kinda offers me the opportunity to have them meet each other early. I am still contemplating what to do with it. Especially since a couple of the enslaved folk Narsus freed could end up in Gorgan's orbit.

There's no way the Gorgan folk could know about Narsus' abolitionist ideals until Narsus pulls that stunt of freeing all his slaves (I assume it happened in Daylam rather than the capital), I mean there's a small possibility that they might know vaguely but it's more likely that they straight up won't know until Narsus does the societal equivalent of kicking down the door and blasting a horn far and wide. There's also very little possibility of Narsus knowing unless Gorgan reaches out to him first— what with their operation being so hush-hush and crucially under wraps because of the Mardi's caution— and they wouldn't reach out before knowing that Narsus is trustworthy.

But after? Could Shapur possibly reach out? Maybe he would want his children to have an ally he knows can be trusted so they won't be so alone against the world. Would it even be Shapur who reaches out? Would it be Sadiq who advises Shapur to do so? Would it make sense for them to see a potential friend and ally and not take the opportunity, especially when Shapur has already cut ties with his relatives over the Isfan debacle and the region can't exactly trust other nobles willy-nilly. I don't know.

In the scenario that he does reach out and they do end up connecting with each other, what can I do with it? Narsus probably got the court position in 315, in my timeline I put down that Shapur becomes a marzban in 316 (age 32), after some ambiguous campaign that he was called to be part of, so he would have to go to the capital again. I did not find anything significant in the novel timeline in the year 316, so I wouldn't know what the occasion is. But in the hypothetical scenario that they're acquainted with each other by this point, what interesting thing can I do with how they view the capital? Does Narsus ever get to return to Daylam during his time as a court advisor of sorts? What could he do with this?

I have something vague pinned down for after when canon starts, where the Mardi folk (esp Khazān and Arslan? not sure yet) help Daylam defend against Lusitanians and encountering Irina and her crew + Kubard and Merlaine and things rolling from there— could that aid be rooted in a friendship established before that point?

Coordinating trade and stuff between the two regions could be pretty difficult if Narsus isn't there to manage the process, though. So I'm still not sure how it all works out.

In the scenario that there is a connection between Gorgan and Daylam, could Narsus possibly go back to Daylam after his exile instead of going to live on Mt. Bashur in isolation? Because even if somebody else warns him to be careful, I don't think it's possible for Narsus to stay quiet about the corruption and injustices in the capital and eventually he'd snap and get fed up and leave when his concerns go ignored.

I'm... still not sure what would happen after he goes back to Daylam (if he does) or why I'm contemplating this whole situation in the first place BUT here I am, pondering and contemplating anyways.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #wolfpack au #winds of wolfsong #shapur #narsus #still not writing but thinking about Stuff #so much stuff

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hrizantemy · 3 months ago

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I find beron interesting in the sense he is known to be cruel with his wife and children, was in contact wih that human queen who i forgot the name and possibly with koschei for unknown reasons, possibly getting lands from spring or something idk, fought in the war against slavery, managed to keep all of his known family alive while they were utm without resourcing to killing kids and was the first one to offer power to resurrect feyre. Yet we know shit on how he is as rulling, but his army is unified and obey their general properly, so it is not as bad as someone else....

Beron is undeniably a terrible man—a cruel husband and father whose reputation is stained by the abuse he inflicts on his wife and children. He embodies the worst of toxic masculinity, ruling his household with fear rather than love. His alliances with morally questionable figures, such as the human queen and possibly Koschei, raise concerns about his true intentions and long-term goals. Yet, Beron is undeniably a skilled ruler when it comes to managing his court.

Under the Mountain (UTM), while many courts saw their numbers decimated or their leadership falter, Beron not only kept his family alive but managed to maintain enough stability to avoid resorting to the unthinkable—killing people to appease Amarantha. His ability to navigate such perilous waters and emerge with his family intact speaks volumes about his cunning and strategic acumen. Furthermore, his swift willingness to offer power to resurrect Feyre was a pragmatic, albeit unexpected, move. It suggested that Beron values alliances—or at least the appearance of them—when it serves his interests.

Politically, Beron’s rule seems remarkably stable. His army is unified and obedient, a rare feat in a world where internal rebellion and disloyalty are commonplace. This indicates that while his personal relationships may be defined by cruelty and manipulation, his leadership style ensures order and efficiency. Soldiers respect or fear him enough to follow him without question, and his governance appears effective enough to keep his court functioning.

And Beron’s court joined the war against slavery, a decision that, while possibly self-serving, aligns with broader moral imperatives. Whether this was purely a political calculation or a rare moment of alignment between his personal ambitions and a just cause, it nonetheless paints a picture of a High Lord who understands the value of strategic alliances and the optics of being on the “right” side of history.

Rhysand, the so-called “most powerful High Lord in history,” presents a fascinating paradox: he possesses unmatched magical strength, yet his leadership is riddled with inconsistencies that call into question his effectiveness as a ruler. Where Beron’s cruelty is tempered by his ability to govern effectively, Rhysand’s supposed benevolence often undermines his role as a leader. While he champions ideals like freedom and equality, the cracks in his rule reveal that raw power alone does not make for strong governance.

Despite his immense power, Rhysand struggles to maintain unity within his own court. The Inner Circle, his closest advisors, are frequently embroiled in personal conflicts and hypocrisies that weaken the Night Court’s internal structure. Rhysand often enables these tensions, favoring certain individuals or overlooking serious grievances, such as Morrigan’s dismissive treatment of the women in Hewn City or the unchecked ambitions of those around him. A truly competent ruler would address these issues head-on, but Rhysand seems more concerned with maintaining a façade of harmony than resolving the underlying dysfunctions in his court.

Additionally, his governance is inconsistent across the territories he oversees. The Night Court is split into three distinct regions—Velaris, the glittering City of Starlight, Hewn City, a bastion of brutality and oppression, and the Illryian war camps. While Rhysand lavishes attention on Velaris, ensuring its prosperity and protection, he allows Hewn City and the war camps to languish in cruelty and neglect. He justifies this dichotomy by claiming it’s necessary to maintain his rule, but in reality, it reveals a lack of political will to address the systemic issues within his own borders. For a ruler with unparalleled power, it’s notable how little he does to alleviate the suffering of the people in Hewn City or to bring about meaningful reform.

Rhysand’s performance as a wartime leader also leaves much to be desired. Though he played a role in Prythian’s victory over Hybern, his decision-making often comes across as reactive rather than proactive. The Night Court’s initial strategy against Hybern lacked foresight, leaving its allies scrambling to recover from unanticipated losses. Moreover, Rhysand’s personal relationships frequently overshadow his political responsibilities. His obsession with Feyre, while understandable on a personal level, often blinds him to broader considerations. This imbalance between personal and political priorities weakens his ability to act as an impartial and effective leader.

Lastly, Rhysand’s emphasis on appearances often undermines his credibility. He projects himself as a champion of progressivism and equality, yet his actions don’t always align with his rhetoric. For instance, while he preaches about the importance of female empowerment, he enables dynamics within his Inner Circle that contradict these values. The Night Court’s structure—where power is concentrated in a small, elite group—stands in stark contrast to the democratic ideals Rhysand claims to uphold.

In the end, Rhysand’s immense power is not matched by effective leadership. While he thrives as a charismatic figurehead and protector of Velaris, his broader failings as a ruler undermine his legacy. Beron, for all his flaws, manages to maintain unity and order within his court, while Rhysand’s rule is often marked by personal indulgence, selective governance, and unresolved tensions. For the “most powerful High Lord in history,” Rhysand’s shortcomings as a leader highlight the difference between possessing power and knowing how to wield it effectively.

#anti acosf #anti acotar #anti feysand #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #nesta archeron deserves better #pro nesta #anti azriel #anti amren #anti cassian #anti morrigan #anti night court #anti nessian

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miryum · 3 months ago

Text

"The Fugitive"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Chapter Warnings: someone held at knifepoint and Leonardo DiCaprio (sorry, I know he's a pedo)

Series Masterlist

Leonardo Dicaprio had his headphones on and he wore a large white sweatshirt, even against the Gotham heat. He was crossing the street as he took a bite of his burrito. A large armoured truck was driving on the street behind him, when suddenly, the truck veered off the road and up onto the sidewalk, slowly tipping over. Leonardo scoffed and looked down in his takeout bag. “What? Damn it, they forgot my pico de gallo.” An old Eastern European lady next to him shrieked and pointed at the truck. Nine men in orange jumpsuits jumped out of the truck, but Leonardo didn’t notice anything on account of his obnoxiously large headphones that were blasting music. The nine men scattered into the winds and Leonardo tsked.

Y/n strolled into the precinct, yawning and stretching. Jason was already at his desk and he looked up, his gaze not holding the same love and affection that it usually did. “Love the shirt, L/n,” Tim said sarcastically.

“Thanks, man,” Y/n said, sporting a raggedy old Hogwarts Alumni shirt. “Hufflepuffs are underrated and Slytherins are amazing,” she voiced halfheartedly. “However, Drake, this is not my shirt.” She slumped in her seat. “I slept at Jason’s and spilled ketchup over my shirt. So, unless I wanted to look like that murder victim from last week, it wasn’t gonna happen.”

“Why don’t you two move in together already?” Dick asked, munching on a doughnut. “I thought you were planning to, no?”

Jason cut in, running a hand down his face. “We are. We are. And I would love to, but we haven’t decided whose apartment to live in. I think Y/n should move in with me cause it’s bigger and has nicer amenities.”

“However,” Y/n interrupted. “My place is cheaper and closer to work.”

“How many times have I had to kill spiders and insects for you?” Jason asked Y/n bluntly.

Y/n scoffed and spluttered and eventually stuttered out, “well. How many times have you killed spiders at your place?”

“None,” Jason replied smoothly. “That’s my point.”

Captain Wayne interrupted the little spat by announcing, “alright, everyone. Listen up. We have a situation. Ten minutes ago, a prison van overturned on Nevins Street. It was carrying nine convicts who are now at large. It's our job to bring them in. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a manhunt.”

Y/n’s eyes widened and she gasped dramatically. “A manhunt!” She straightened her back and marched up and down the bullpen. “Okay, what I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse in the area!” Y/n cried out. “Your fugitive's name is Dr. Richard Kimble.”

“There must be some sort of error.” Wayne frowned and flipped through the file. “There are nine fugitives, and none of them are named Kimble.”

“I didn't kill my wife!” Y/n suddenly screamed out.

“What?” Jason reacted.

“You're supposed to go, ‘I don't care!’” Y/n mimicked, slapping Jason lightly on the arm.

“I don't care,” Jason repeated in a monotone voice.

“Let the manhunt begin,” Y/n grinned, raising a victorious fist.

Wayne rolled his eyes and led everyone into the briefing room. “Patrol officers have secured a ten-block perimeter,” he explained. “All civilians are being evacuated. Here's what the convicts were in for: arson, kidnapping, racketeering, assault and battery, forgery and counterfeiting, and triple homicide.” He clicked a button on the remote and pictures of nine men appeared on screen.

“Whoo!” Y/n raised her hand, looking for a high-five. Steph looked over at her best friend, aghast. “What?” Y/n shrugged. ��I'm not excited about the murder. I'm excited about the chance to avenge them.”

“Cain, I want you here with me interviewing witnesses,” Wayne automatically ignored Y/n. “The rest of you will search the secured area in the following teams: Todd and Brown; L/n and Grayson. Get to work.”

“Okay. We'll start south of Nevins,” Jason instructed once the four detectives were all suited up. “You two start at Bond and we'll rendezvous in the middle, assuming, of course, Brown and I haven't already caught all the fugitives by the time you two show up.”

“Jason, there are nine hardened criminals running free in the streets,” Y/n said firmly, brows furrowed and arms crossed. “This is hardly the time for childish trash talk.” She paused and then added, “it's time for a bet.”

“What are you thinking?” Jason asked as if this was a normal thing in their relationship.

“Whoever catches the most fugitives gets to keep their apartment,” Y/n proposed, smirking.

Jason smirked back and held out his hand to shake. “Prepare to die, and by ‘die,’ I mean move in with me and marry me and have some beautiful children assuming that’s what you wish to do and either way I’m completely fine with your decision because I love you so much but I’m gonna win this bet.”

“Here we go,” Dick muttered, rolling his eyes as Y/n jumped into a police cruiser. He hopped in after her, barely having time to buckle his seatbelt before she floored the gas. Dick screamed out, “I get that the streets are empty, but slow down, man! I forgot my Dramamine.”

“Stakes are high, Sarge,” Y/n replied, screeching the wheel to the right. “Not only have I totally wanted to be able to go over the speed limit in a really cool car chase, but I also really wanna beat Jay.”

“Look, I am completely on board,” Dick said, clutching the grab handle and thinking that if his daughters ever turned out to be like Y/n, he would never take them to practise driving. “You need your own space. I had a little bar in my old apartment with all the best gin and vodka.” Dick smiled wistfully, thinking of his lovely hobby as a bartender. “But then I moved in with Kori. And then the kids came along.” His smile disappeared and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “You wanna know where I have my bar now?

Dick shuffled around a closet and knocked over a shelf of expensive bottles. “My alcohol!” he screamed out.

“I am not gonna let you lose this bet,” Dick grumbled.

“Cool. So, basically just telling me not to get married and have kids…” Y/n side-eyed him awkwardly. “Anything from dispatch?” she asked after a moment.

Dick checked in and reported, “based on security footage, two fugitives ran North toward Shadowcrest. Looks like the arsonist and counterfeiter.”

“Fantastic,” Y/n grinned, the car revving underneath her.

Stepanie and Jason sat in a squad car, cruising down the streets as Steph reported, “Apparently, one of the fugitives is heading south on Lincoln Place. Also, why do we have a street named after Lincoln? He has a lot of stuff named after him. Why don’t we have a street named after Rutherford B. Hayes?!” She threw her hands up in the air while Jason wished he had more coffee. “He has a wicked name, helped civil service, and basically forged the nation back together after the Civil War! And, he has a super cool beard.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Jason mumbled, white-knuckling the steering wheel. After a moment of silence, he awkwardly began, “so, I know you're Y/n’s best friend, and all…”

“Hell yeah I am,” Steph agreed, ripping into a protein bar. She was struggling with the wrapper.

“I know you really want her to win this bet,” Jason said, “but could you please–”

“Are you kidding?” The detective wrinkled her nose, cutting him off. “That's the last thing I want! Y/n/n moving in with you is my dream come true. Your apartment is only three blocks away from mine. She’ll be able to pop by any time.” She let out a loud gasp and Jason nearly swerved off the road. Thankfully, all the streets were empty. “Imagine it,” Steph painted a picture, “she’s been having a tough day. She’s fighting with Jason. You know how you bottle things up and act like a typical man. So, she just walks over to my place, brewskis in hand, and we just talk it out. Maybe watch some chick-flicks. Paint out toenails. Invite Cass over and clean our weapons. And by the time girl’s night has finished, you've come to your senses and apologised!”

She grinned at Jason who sighed, “maybe I don't want to win this bet.”

Wayne stood by Damian’s desk, briefing Cass. “We need to figure out whether this crash was an accident or part of a deliberate escape plan,” he said. “Damian, I need you manning the tip line.”

“No.”

“Okay. Cain, there are only two witnesses close enough to the crash to see something. One's on his way already.” Wayne flipped through some papers before presenting, “his name is Leonardo DiCaprio.”

Cass let out a small squeak of excitement, making Bruce raise a brow at the blatant show of emotion. “Leonardo DiCaprio?!” Cass clarified, “Leonardo DiCaprio the famous actor?”

Wayne shrugged and gestured to his notes. “I don't know his frivolous hobbies.”

“We're not getting anything out of him,” Cass declared, crossing her arms. “He doesn’t do many interviews. Admittedly, it could be because of his pedophilia, but you have to admit he tugged on everyone’s heartstrings with Titanic. Whatever the reason,” she explained, “you won’t be able to get anything out of him.”

“Well, it may be tough, and it may take a while, but I'm sure we'll get him to open up.”

“Sir,” Cass smirked, “with all respect, there are some vaults you just can't crack.”

A while later, the famed actor Leonardo DiCaprio sat in Wayne’s office and said bluntly, “I didn’t see anything. I was eating my quesadilla. It was a good one. Chicken, cheese, guac. But they forgot my pico de gallo. Have you ever wondered why they don't make quesadillas with sausage? Or, you could throw some tomato sauce in there and call it a pizza-dilla... What do you think?”

Cass stood there, a pained look on her face. “What is going on?” she grit out.

Leonardo DiCaprio kept talking. “Speaking of tomato sauce, a couple of nights ago, I spilled some on this really nice grey sweater I had while I was watching West Wing. You know, the show that Martin Sheen is in? I feel like no one talks about that show anymore! A total banger, you know. Honestly, with the way everything’s been going, I’d totally vote for President Bartlet right now. Or any of the other characters. Who’s your favourite character? Not a popular opinion, but I love Mrs. Landingham!”

Wayne held up a pleading hand, brows mashed together in pain. “Stop. Stop talking, Leonardo DiCaprio. Did you see anything after the van crashed?” Cass held her head in her hands, wanting to die.

“Nope. Like I told you, I was just eating my quesadilla. Have I talked to you guys about my pizza-dilla invention?”

“Yes, well,” Wayne cleared his throat and stepped towards the door. “I have other matters to attend to. So, Detective Cain, just take down everything Mr. DiCaprio has to say.”

“Captain…”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Y/n announced to the precinct, arms spread wide in victory and a victorious grin on her face. “Please welcome to the precinct… Escaped convict number one!” she sang out. After a small pause, she turned back to Dick who was struggling with the arsonist. “Dick! Where's the music? That was the cue.”

“I didn't have that ABBA song on my phone,” Dick said. “I wasn't gonna pay a dollar ninety-nine for it.”

“How the fuck do you not have every single ABBA song?”

“Nice work, man,” Cass gave Y/n a head nod of approval. “You can put your perp in holding with the other three convicts.”

“Wait. Other three?” Y/n asked.

“Todd and Brown brought them in,” Wayne entered the bullpen, a clipboard in hand.

Jason swung around in his chair, smirking gleefully. “That's right,” he praised himself. “It's three to one!” He held up a flyswatter that he had bought after using too many tissues and shoe soles to kill creepy crawlies at Y/n’s apartment. “Guess I won't be needing this anymore since you'll be moving in with me.”

“The sacred bug killer!” Y/n gasped. “The only thing you said doesn’t make them feel any pain so I don’t need to feel guilty about killing them!”

“Exactly,” Jason said as the other detectives shared a look of ‘how stupid are these two idiots and why do they love each other so much?’ Jason bent the flyswatter which should’ve, with the combined effort of poor manufacturing and Jason’s sheer strength, broken easily.

But it didn’t. Causing Y/n to shout out, “the bug killer lives and so do we! Albeit ironically! Woo!”

An old lady sat nervously at Cass’ desk as Wayne and the detective tried to cross the language barrier and communicate. “Excuse me, ma'am. I was wondering if you could answer some questions about the accident you witnessed this morning,” Wayne asked before the woman started speaking a rapid Slavic language.

Cass and Wayne exchanged a glance. “What’s she saying?” Wayne asked.

“The fuck should I know?”

Wayne shook his head with disapproval before sliding a map out of his jacket pocket. “All we have to do is figure out what language she's speaking so we can find a translator. Here, ma'am. Take a look at this map of the world.”

“You just keep one of those on you?” Cass raised her brows.

“Of course. In case I ever need to prove my point in an argument.” The captain turned back to the woman. “So, where are you from? Where did you grow up?” Wayne set the map down and began by cupping a hand up by his shoulder, his other hand making rhythmic pats midair. “Where were you born?” he enunciated.

After a moment of wondering what happened to her life, Cain asked, “what are you miming there, sir?”

“A parent burping a child,” Wayne said simply. “Something you have to do for months after an infant is born. See, you must do this after every feeding, your hand moving up and down the back. This clearly shows a babe, Cain. How clearer could I be?”

Jason and Steph barged into a small convenience store, guns drawn at a man in an orange jumpsuit. “GCPD! Get down!” Steph shouted out. “Freeze!”

The man instantly ran out the back door, knocking over a pile of toilet paper in the process. “This way,” Jason urged. “Come on.” The pair ran after the man only to find Dick cuffing the perp in the adjacent alleyway. “Oh, come on!” Jason grumped. “Where did you guys even come from?”

At that, a loud horn honed twice. The sound came from a large, obnoxious vehicle that had the GCPD logo plastered to the side of it. Y/n poked her head out of the driver’s window, grinning maniacally. “Your nightmares,” she said dramatically. The detective hopped out of the vehicle – which was bigger than a city bus. “Hey, Jay, allow me to introduce you to Big Bertha.” She patted the side of the bus. “Given the magnitude of the situation, we were given full access to any and all department resources.”

At that, Steph groaned, realising what her friend meant. “That's right, y'all!” Y/n crowed. “We went to Homeland Security!” Channelling Vanna White, Y/n showcased Big Bertha. “This beauty comes fully equipped with thermal imaging, a satellite link-up, and she plugs in to every surveillance camera in the city. She's also got a holding cell, which is big enough for three perps!”

Dick piped up, asking, “Y/n, counting this guy, how many perps have we caught and placed in the three-perp perp cell?”

“Well, Sarge, we've placed three perps in the three-perp perp cell,” Y/n replied.

“So, the three-perp perp cell's full?”

“Full of three perps is the three-perp perp cell!”

“Okay, stop saying ‘perps’ and ‘cell’ and ‘three!’” Jason demanded, whipping a hand through the air.

“You sound irritated,” Y/n pouted. “I wonder why. Would it be that, perchance, your darling girlfriend is now beating you by one?” She batted her eyes and gave Jason a coy smile as her and the sergeant climbed back into the bus and drove off.

Bruce Wayne, esteemed captain of the sixty-sixth precinct of Gotham City, was sitting in a chair opposite his Everest. Which was an old European woman. Wayne, Cass, and Tim sat in the break room, the latter with a glazed, coffee-induced look in his eyes. “What are you trying to tell us?” Bruce asked desperately, after the witness had repeated her phrase for the umpteenth time. The woman stood in front of a whiteboard. She drew a circle with numerous smaller circles in it. “Is this some kind of clue?” Wayne pleaded.

The woman repeated her Slavic phrase and Cass groaned. “Draw better!” she commanded. “We have no idea what this is.”

Tim stared at the whiteboard for a long time before mumbling out, “I think it's a cookie. Wait. No. It's a pizza.” He then gasped and slapped his hands to his cheeks with an epiphany. “It's a cookie pizza!”

He stood up, dusting his hands off. “Another case solved.” Marching out the break room, he commented, “really, capitan, I should be getting a raise for how good I am at this.”

“No. Detective,” Wayne stuttered. “We’re not–”

Cass shushed her superior. “Let him go,” she advised.

The old woman exclaimed something else in Slavic and waved the two officers out of the break room and through the bullpen.

“She's taking us somewhere,” Bruce exclaimed, hurriedly following his witness. “This is good. This is good. We're gonna crack this, Cain!”

The woman said something else in her native language, gesturing to Cass and Bruce. She then turned and entered the bathroom.

“Nope,” Cass pressed her lips together into a thin line. “She just needed to take a shit.”

Y/n sat in front of Big Bertha’s computer console. “Satellite images showed one of the two remaining convicts entering this building,” she told Dick who was standing behind her, eating a muffin. “If we catch him,” Y/n continued. “That's five. I win the bet. Jaybird moves in with me. I lord it over him forever. He's miserable. We live happily ever after!” she cheered. “It’s fool-proof!”

Dick shot her a confused look, but decided not to get involved in his detective’s love lives. “But that’s thirty floors of office space for the perp to be hiding,” Dick said.

Y/n typed some things onto the computer and said, “nuh-uh. We can use Big Bertha to tap into the security cameras.”

Soon later, Dick was in the building, gun drawn and bullet-proof vest strapped on. He moved throughout the rooms as Y/n concentrated on the computers inside Big Bertha. She manoeuvred a joystick that moved the security cameras around. Meanwhile, Dick entered a new room. Y/n spoke inside his earpiece, “Okay. This room is clear, but check that closet.” Dick stepped forward and Y/n chuckled. “This is like playing the coolest video game ever! My character is Richard Grayson.”

Dick interrupted her thoughts. “It’s locked,” he declared.

“Ooh, kick it down!” Y/n exclaimed. “Front kick! Front kick!” Dick sighed and did as she dictated. He signalled the all clear and moved onto the next room. Y/n paused and her brows furrowed as the cameras skipped a chunk of the building, leaving her in the blind. “Wait a minute, Sarge. I don't have eyes on that room.” After skipping through a couple more camera angles, her blood ran cold as she saw her sergeant being held by the criminal, a sharp razor to his throat.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Hold on, Grayson. I’m coming for you.”

“Drop the weapon,” Y/n commanded, gun drawn right at the perp’s heart. Unfortunately, the perp was using Dick as a human shield and Y/n struggled to get a clear shot.

“ You drop your weapon,” the criminal countered.

“Okay, hey, stay cool,” Y/n raised her hands. “We can work this out. I’m a trained hostage negotiator. I saved some hostages from my best-criminal-friend when he robbed a bank to save his daughter.”

“L/n!” Dick shouted out, struggling with the criminal to try and keep the blade away from his neck.

“Right. Sorry,” Y/n gritted out. “What do you want?” she asked the man.

“You let me walk out of this building and get into a car,” the perp began. “And if anyone tries to stop me…”

All of a sudden, Jason came out of nowhere and thwacked his baton at the criminal’s legs. The convict cried out, knees buckling and subsequently releasing Dick. Jason was quick to slap some handcuffs onto the man. “Got him,” Jason grunted. He flashed a grin towards his girlfriend and said cockily, “I think that makes it four to four.”

“No. No!” Y/n wagged a finger towards Jason. “You don't get credit for this guy! I was in the middle of negotiating, and he was about to give up... Tell him, guy,” she exclaimed.

The criminal shook his head. “No,” he shrugged. “I was probably gonna kill him, then let you kill me.”

Y/n’s expression dropped, lips parting with shock. “Holy fuck,” she muttered. “I should’ve been way more scared.”

Stephanie took the perp from Jason and began shoving him towards Big Bertha’s holding cell. Jason stepped towards Y/n, brushing a thumb over her cheek. He carefully lifted her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes held an undeniable amount of love. “Well, there's just one convict left,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against Y/n’s forehead.

With a much more calm and loving voice than the situation called for, Y/n replied softly, “may the best detective win.”

The old European woman finally exited the bathroom and when she saw Bruce and Cass still standing there, she huffed out a sigh. She gestured again for them to follow her, leading them out of the precinct doors. Stopping at a seemingly random place on the sidewalk, she pointed down and repeated her phrase.

The two officers looked down and realisation dawned on their faces. “The sewers,” Cass whispered out. “She saw a perp go into the sewers.”

“Her drawing,” Wayne connected the dots. “It wasn’t a cookie pizza. It was a manhole cover.”

They turned to each other and yelled out the woman’s catchphrase. The old woman slapped her hand on her forehead and said her words again, relief coming over her face.

Soon after, Bruce clicked on his walkie-talkie and called for, “L/n, Todd?”

“Yeah, we’re here,” Jason responded immediately.

“Us too, Captain,” Y/n agreed, not one to be forgotten or outdone.

“We have a lead,” Wayne announced. “One of our witnesses saw the last convict, Waylon Jones, the murderer, go down into a manhole and escape into the sewer near the crash site.”

“Copy that,” Jason said firmly. “We're on it.”

“Yeah, so are we,” Y/n added quickly. “We are also on it!” She turned the steering wheel of Big Bertha all the way to the right, but realised that the street was much too marrow. “Back it up a little bit,” she narrated as she threw the bus into reverse. A loud beeping filled Dick’s ears as Y/n was able to reverse the vehicle only a metre or two. “Forward,” Y/n muttered as she pushed Big Bertha forward again. “Back,” she reversed again. “Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. And we’re good to go!” she crowed, barrelling forward and knocking a city mailbox down in the process. “Oop. Almost clipped the mailbox. Heh. Close call.”

At that point, Dick wondered silently what he had done in a past life to deserve this.

In their respective teams, Dick, Y/n, Jason, and Steph all were in the Gotham sewers, each with their nose wrinkled up with disgust. “I can't believe Leonardo lived in this,” Y/n muttered to Dick. “I mean, Michelangelo I get. He's kinda a sloppy dude. But Leo is so fastidious.”

“Y/n, shut up,” Dick commanded.

“Sarge, we're in a sewer,” Y/n scoffed, smirking. “I'm gonna to talk about the Turtles.”

“No, Y/n,” Dick reiterated, “shut up. I hear something.”

The pair turned a corner and came face to face with Waylon Jones. “GCPD!” Y/n yelled out. “Freeze!”

Barely a second later, Jason and Steph came from the other tunnel and Jason shouted, “GCPD! Freeze!”

The lovers shot aghast looks at the other before turning back to Waylon Jones and rapidly reciting his Miranda Rights, “you have the right to remain silent! Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.” Y/n’s eyes flicked over to Jason. His jaw was tense and his muscles were taut as he held his gun. Even though his eyes were narrowed, Y/n knew of the window into his emotions that they were. The hands on his gun held her too, but with such care and softness. And his heart, that was surely beating quickly at the holdup of a convict, beat just for her. He had told her many times when they laid in bed together, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Jason was a cuddly sleeper. It was one thing she loved about him. Another thing she loved was how his bed was pushed against a wall, furthest away from the door. And he had no intention of changing that. When she had complained once about having to crawl over him, he had shut her up with a swift kiss on the lips and the murmured confession that it was because he wanted to be able to protect her from anything that might barge through the door. The rest of her complaints were pushed aside that night when he showed her how much he loved her in his bed.

“You have the right to an attorney,” Jason continued. His gaze shot over to Y/n when he didn’t hear her honeyed voice along with his gruff one. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you…” he trailed off. After a pause, he asked quietly, “why’d you stop?”

“I'm done,” she said simply. “You win.”

“W-what?” Jason stammered.

“I love you,” Y/n smiled up at him. “I wanna move into your apartment.”

“Really?” At Y/n’s confirming nod, Jason’s face broke into a grin. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her long and hard. “I love you too,” he muttered against her lips.

“Oh, my God, what a beautiful moment,” Steph beamed, interrupting the pair. “Too bad we’re in a sewer…”

Dick shoved Waylon Jones to the three-perp perp cell. “Alright, head to the back. You're going to jail.”

“Hey,” Jason came up and stood behind the driver’s seat where Y/n was guiding Big Bertha back to the precinct. “Why did you decide to let me win?” he asked softly.

“I don't know,” Y/n admitted. “When we were back there, racing through the Miranda Rights, I just looked over at you and thought, ‘you're awesome. And you're utterly fantastic at doing things.’”

“Are you sure about this?” Jason whispered. “I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to. I want you to be happy.”

“Oh, yeah,” Y/n waved his concerns away. “Your apartment is better than mine in every way imaginable. You wanna know what my first thought was when we dropped into the sewer? ‘Smells like home.’”

“She's lying, Jason,” Dick called from the back. “Her first thought was about the Ninja Turtles.”

Jason scoffed and shot Dick an incredulous look. “Come on, Grayson. We were in a sewer. She's gonna think about the Turtles.”

“Yeah!” Y/n exclaimed, beaming at her boyfriend. “I'm gonna, Grayson!”

#title of your sex tape #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #b99 #slow burn

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unfamiliaris · 11 days ago

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hi im the boss of the company you work at. sorry your innie tried to emancipate himself. we have made sure he won't have any rights in the future so you don't have to worry about that. would you like me to ask you intimate questions about your dead wife whose name I forgot. do you like me check the box yes or no

#HER LAME ASS IM CRYING SO HARD #severance s2 spoilers

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flower-boi16 · 10 months ago

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as a trans person, im pretty baffled by how hh/hb are called good shows queer representation-wise when gender is barely explored at ALL. the only trans character in both shows (afaik) is millies sister whose name i already forgot and who appears in one episode for 5-10 seconds and then in another short that vivz didn't even write. but gender-wise, all the characters are either male or female, which puzzles me so much because there are so many different species in this version of hell (imps, hellhounds, etc) and you're telling me ALL of them are binary and (seemingly) reproduce sexually??? that's not queer, as well as not creative at all

tldr hh/hb is awful when it comes to gender. both shows are as white and "lgb" as they can be

Hazbin and Helluva's queer representation is actually like. Really fucking bad. We have...

Chaz (Bi), a one-dimensional asshole who constantly makes unfunny sex jokes who abandoned Moxxie, his boyfriend, and st. boyfriend went on to date & marry a women (not a great look)

Chaggie (Sapphic), an boring ass and underdeveloped reletionship where one of them purely revolves around the other with no development beyond that. Also the reletionship is severly co-dependant.

Stolas (Gay), a horny asshole who forces someone into having sex with him for his own pleasure, cheated on his wife & frequently neglects his daughter, yet the narrative constantly UwUifs and coddles him for his mistakes.

Stolitz (Gay), a horrendously poorly written & toxic reletionship that the show constantly pretends isn't toxic.

Vaggie (Gay), a character with little to no real depth beyond their reletionship with her girlfriend.

Valentino (Pan), another one-dimensional asshole who SA's Angel Dust.

Pentious (Bi), frequently used as a punching bag in the show (like being SA'd in episode 6 and it's played for laughs) and he was confirmed to be bisexual in a live stream.

Travis (Bi), a very minor character that gets 0.5 seconds of screen time. Also was confirmed to BI in an AMA.

Vox x Valentino (Gay), a reletionship between two antagonists that is also shown to be heavily over-sexualized

Burnie Bunz (Gay), a minor character who is an obsessive stalker who gets killed off in the episode he's introduced in.

Sallie May (Trans), gender was confirmed on twitter and she's a minor character with very little screen-time.

Charlie (Bi), a pretty poorly written protagonist with little development or growth.

Apple and Coco (Gay), side characters with litteraly 0 lines and the only way to even tell if their dating is by going on the model sheets.

Vox (Pan), extremely hypersexual when it comes to his reletionship with Valentino.

Alastor (Aroace), his sexuality was also confirmed in a live-stream and it gets only one small mention in the show.

Moxxie (Bi), frequently used as a punching bag within the show and goes through the same repeated arc.

Litteraly the only decent LGBT characters are Blitz, Angel Dust, Husk, Ozzie and Fizz. Aside from those six, everything else is straight trash in terms of representation lmao.

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel criticism #helluva boss criticism #anti stolitz

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i-cant-sing · 8 months ago

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i forgot their names already and confuses me, could u like uhhhh idk how to put it like put them more simply like whose son is who 😔😔🙏

OKAAAAYYYY since a lot of u keep asking me about the ottomans, i'll clear this up rn:

Sultan Suleiman has two wives:

First wife: Mahidevran (less fav wife). She gave birth to Mustafa, the eldest child of the sultan, and Mahidevran's only kid, period. Also, he's killed by Suleiman in history, because Mihirmah's future husband frames Mustafa to be a traitor to Suleiman.

Second wife: Hurrem (Suleiman's fav wife). She gave birth to 5 kids (4 sons, 1 daughter), in the order: Mehmed, Mihirmah, Selim, Beyazid, Cihangir. Mehmed dies due to an illness, and he was actually favoured by Suleiman to be his successor. Selim becomes the actual successor of Suleiman, and Beyazid and his sons are executed once Selim is named sultan. Cihangir had a hunchback, and died due to his chronic health issues, but some say that he died due to shock and grief over Mustafa's death.

And thats it!

#time traveller au #ottoman empire

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wntrs0ldier · 1 year ago

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An Offer II: Safe Haven · 02

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 5,3k warnings: smut, typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), a/n: so i went MIA 👉👈...

series masterlist

series summary: The ride was bumpy, but in the end, you got your husband. Your marriage gave you protection, and your new husband shared with you his life, his Family, his wealth. His demons and his enemies. Only time can show whether it was worth it.

chapter sneak peek: Bucky leaned his chin on your shoulder. You didn't speak, absorbing this closeness in silence. For a moment, you forgot about the months of separation; about the fact that you weren't actually connected by true, deep affection – in that moment, it felt like you had known him forever.

The rays of the harsh morning sun broke in through the huge window, casting a bright glow directly on the bed. The beams of irritating light brushed your face, and you immediately regretted that last night the thought of drawing the curtains hadn't crossed your mind. But there was no room in your head for rational thinking or predicting the future; you were too excited, too overwhelmed for that.

Driven by your instinct to stay awake, instead of falling into further sleep, you lifted your eyelids with difficulty, and your eyes fell involuntarily on the figure lying next to you. For the first time in nearly three months, you had a man in your bed; or rather, it was he who had returned to his bed, and had no choice but to accept that you had usurped it. Eventually, you were both in your shared space, and for the first time you had the opportunity to wake up next to Bucky.

He was sleeping on his stomach, with only one leg under the covers and the rest of his body outside; half of his face was buried in the pillow, the other half was covered by his hair falling down. You admired him with fascination – your eyes ran over his broad back and the muscles it showed; over his strong arms, kissed by the Italian sun. He wasn't doing anything special, nothing spectacular – just breathing, slowly and steadily – yet you could watch him for hours. You feared, however, that he might sense this and wake up, and interrupting Bucky's sleep was the last thing you felt like doing. He had been working hard for the last few months and now he was finally being given a rest. You weren't going to deprive him of the comfort of sleeping in his bed, in a safe, familiar space, so you slipped carefully out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom.

Your sore feet still reminded you of last night – of the hours spent in the club, the alcohol consumed and the men looking at you. Bucky was right – some were looking at you with a strange longing, and at the time you hadn't wondered what it meant. Now, although the question was only just seeking a place in your mind, you were curious about something else: did they know that you belonged to him? You wore the ring, you carried his name, but you haven't yet had the chance to show yourselves in public even once. You assumed that it was the soldiers of the Barnes Family, not leaving your side, let everyone know that you had also become a member of this house. Regardless of whose wife you were, your new name was a kind of warning sign.

As the pleasant stream of warm water washed over your body, your mind was flooded with more questions. For the past few months you had been a wife, but without a husband around. What was your life going to look like from now on? Was Bucky going to fit into your mode, you were going to be forced to fit into his, or were you both going to lead your own separate lives, ignoring each other; your existing routines, habits and needs?

The water fell on the shower floor and crashed against the tiles with loud splashes; nevertheless, the characteristic click of the door closing reached your ears. You looked over your shoulder, spotting Bucky, and your breath involuntarily stuck in your throat. He was standing by the entrance; with his hair only brushed through with a careless, accidental sweep of his fingers, his boxers framing his hips tightly and such a hungry, raw expression on his face that it instantly made your heart beat faster. You forgot about the fact that you were completely naked; the thought of satisfying this primal need took over your consciousness. Anyway, he soon returned the favor – without taking his determined gaze off you, he removed his underwear and joined you in the shower. Or rather, he attacked you as if you were his helpless prey.

His huge, hard body collided with yours; his arms immediately surrounded you with the purpose of protection from any possible loss of balance due to this sudden, violent push. Bucky's lips – which had reminded you of their existence the previous night, of the pleasure that came from them, and which you still craved – pressed onto yours in a desiring kiss. His beard irritated your tender skin in that strangely pleasurable way, but the truth was that whatever he would do, it would bring you nothing but pleasure. You couldn't imagine doing anything other than simply surrendering to him – you wanted the same thing after all, and you couldn't let him leave you starving and lusting even for a moment; you needed his attention, you needed compensation – you needed him to reward you for those few months during which you had been dying of hunger.

“Fucking missed you, Y/N,” he muttered into your lips.

“Me? Or did you miss this?” you asked innocently, and although he smiled with mild amusement, there was something punishing hidden in that smile.

“I've thought about fucking you. Many times,” he agreed bluntly, and his hands slid through the sides of your body, from your hips to your ribs, making you shiver. “But I missed you. All of you. Even those stupid questions.”

You stretched your mouth in a wide, bright grin, and looking at him – so beautiful, so ravenous and all yours – you kissed him, placing your hands on his rough cheeks. Bucky's arms once again wrapped around your body and strengthened their hold even tighter than before. You moaned softly, crushed by his own body he pressed you to; you moaned because there was no way he could keep you any closer. Soon you felt the coolness of the tiles on your back – they were like a sharp sting on your heated skin, making you gasp shortly in surprise. Bucky stepped back slightly and stared at your face for a moment. His hand went to your neck, his fingers clenched carefully around it, and when you tried to pull away from the wall in order to get back to his lips, he held you in place without the slightest effort.

“What are you doing, Jamie?” The innocence and helplessness in your voice made Bucky hold his breath at first, then let it out with a loud gasp. As if he was savoring your softness, but in no way intending to take advantage of it. He knew you needed him as much as he needed you.

“I want you to stay here. For better stability,” he replied with calmness and patience; your heatedness fully deserved just such an approach.

“Stability..?”

Without taking his eyes off you, he knelt down. He carefully grabbed your ankle, and you obediently allowed him to lift your leg, which he finally put over his shoulder. You parted your lips, watching him with astonishment.

Bucky's eyes bore relentlessly into yours, his hands rested on your hips and his tongue slid lazily over your swollen, throbbing clit. You let out a shuddering breath, then sank your teeth into your lower lip. Bucky's hands clenched more securely on your body and his tongue began to rub against your knot – exploratory at first, since he was more than happy to learn your body's reactions and draw conclusions, and when he finally found the right rhythm, you knew your end was near, but you weren't about to deny yourself from being thrown into that abyss.

One of your hands found its way to his head; you slipped your fingers into his hair, and, whimpering in a desperate search for an outlet for all the pleasures building up inside you, you squeezed them there reflexively as Bucky sucked on your more and more sensitive clit. He closed his eyes, his fingers digging into your hips in a slightly painful, yet terribly satisfying way. You watched him from between half-open eyelids, and if at all possible, you got the impression that he was getting even more pleasure out of it than you were. And instead of weakening in intensity, he wanted more and more; he was no longer massaging your clit, expecting the desired reactions – he was devouring you for his own selfish fulfillment; he was devouring you like a starving man, and his appetite grew as he ate. You could feel his frustration; you could feel that he himself was left unsatisfied, and it was these desperate actions that pushed you to the edge. Leaning you against the wall earlier was a clever move - now it was keeping you safe, as your legs grew softer and softer until they finally refused to cooperate completely. Fortunately, there was Bucky under you.

Your chest rose and fell along with quick, short breaths. Not only were they coming out of your throat, but also the moans that accompanied them. For the past few months, not once had you thought the long wait would be worth it – you didn't think anyone could have given you such pleasure. Now it was growing in intensity in your lower stomach until it finally exploded, shaking your weak body with strong spasms.

“I've got you, baby,” you heard, and the soft tone hardly matched the character of what Bucky had been doing just moments before. But you didn't think about it. You weren't actually thinking about anything; you were fighting for consciousness with the effects of overflowing pleasure. And you were losing, as your legs finally gave up under its weight.

Bucky took your leg off his shoulder, but held it so that when he got up from his knees, it hung at the level of his hip. He put his free hand around his length, and again you felt strangely fascinated by this – he hadn't touched himself once; until now his hands had rested only on your hips. Yet, his cock was hard, wet with precum, twitching in need. It slid into you without any difficulty, but you still felt its thickness stretching you.

Your lips parted even more, letting out a hollow gasp, and Bucky moaned softly, closing his eyes for a moment. He didn't relish the sensation for too long – he started pounding into you, and unlike the previous times, he didn't begin with gentleness. He couldn't stop himself. He couldn't wait any longer; not since he finally had the chance to satisfy a need that had been piling up inside him for months – the need to fuck you. To fuck his wife.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, pressing your nails uncontrollably into his heated skin. You tilted your head back against the tiles, and this time their coolness did not bring you the same sobriety. And although you were once again intoxicated almost to the point of unconsciousness, your gaze wandered to the space between you – appearing there only when Bucky withdrew his hips. You watched as he thrust in and out of you, while Bucky observed your face; he absorbed your every grimace and every wince.

His tongue left you sore and swollen, so his rubbing cock was driving you crazy with every movement. Finally, his hips were slamming against yours so fast, and your position provided you with such a perfect angle that your consciousness began to slip away again.

“Did you miss me, Y/N?” he breathed, adjusting his grip under your thigh.

“Y-yes,” you cried out.

“How much?”

You forced yourself to look at his face, although your arching back made it difficult for you to do so. You were unable to put together a coherent thought; you were unable to speak it out loud.

“Huh? How much?” he inquired. His face, too, revealed the near end; his mouth wasn't able to stay closed for more than a split second, and his nostrils flared, trying to provide as much precious air as possible. “Show me how much you missed me. Let me hear it, baby.”

You couldn't take it any longer; every bit of you had waited far too long. And once again, that shattering feeling came over you; this time it shot into every part of your body. You let out a few short, loud moans, and darkness spread before your eyes. Bucky came right after you – seeing the look on your face, the pleasure spreading all over it; hearing those sinful sounds leaving your mouth, his body couldn't act any differently. He went still, making a single, low growl, caught up with a series of heavy breaths as his body relaxed and pressed limply against yours. He still held your leg around his hip, and with the rest of the strength he had, he put his other hand on the wall right next to your shoulder, giving you both support. For the time you needed to recover.

Shortly after, Bucky turned off the water, and then you felt his hands on your body again; one somewhere on your back, the other under your thighs. You were exhausted and still dizzy, but you embraced his neck loosely for a better grip. And when you ended up in your husband's arms, your body was finally able to rest.

This time, the bedroom was pleasantly dim. You've had a nap once or twice since leaving the bathroom; although you slept through the whole night, there were several things that contributed to absorbing all your energy.

You looked over your shoulder at Bucky lying next to you. Breathing slowly and quietly, he seemed to be asleep. You sat up carefully, and the mattress bending under your movements alarmed him. Not enough to wake him, but his fingers twitched nervously. If you had made another move, you would probably have snapped him out of this blissful state. So you waited for a moment, sitting still.

Finally, you lowered your feet to the floor, got up and moved silently to the bedroom door, mindlessly fixing Bucky's t-shirt – he gave it to you after the shower, since you needed something comfortable to put on.

“Where are you sneaking off to?”

With your hand on the doorknob, you froze, then looked back slowly. Bucky's eyes stayed closed.

“Nowhere,” you replied in a whisper; his not fully conscious state didn't require a louder tone. “Go back to sleep.”

Bucky let out a heavy sigh. You didn't want to give him a chance to say anything more, to get his mind going. So you left the room, quietly closing the door behind you. Having stepped into the kitchen, you involuntarily followed the routine you had developed over the past months – a thoughtless peek into the fridge, turning on the coffee maker, then back to the fridge, and only then did you consciously consider a meal. You reached for the eggs, and despite the coffee maker already working, you got yourself a glass of cold water.

You stretched, then rested your palms on the countertop, your eyelids still heavy, a bit swollen. This time you didn't despise the sun, but happily exposed your face to it.

Something told you to open your eyes. Having turned your head, you rested your chin on your shoulder. Bucky was standing in the entrance to the kitchen – he was watching you, leaning against the doorframe, and when you finally noticed him, he took a seat in a high chair by the kitchen island.

“Can't sleep without me?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Looks like it,” Bucky bit back. “Actually…” he began, and his tone as well as his expression indicated that he was going to say something sincere; to break out a little from the unserious atmosphere of your conversation. “I can't remember the last time I slept so well. I guess in…” His mouth curved into a half-smile as he vaguely thought about it, “three years.”

Your stomach knotted, forcing you to inhale deeply.

“Did I say something wrong..?”

“No, of course not,” you protested right away. “I just didn't expect that…” you paused, unsure of what to actually respond.

“That you would work on me like that?” Bucky's calmness took away the seriousness of the situation, but that didn't mean your heart accepted this position; it pounded hard, almost painfully. “Neither did I. I get why my body acts like the body of a horny teenager around you, but I don’t get this.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back an indulgent, amused smile.

Bucky slipped from his seat and reached for a cup to fill it with coffee. Watching him curiously, you leaned against the edge of the countertop. Until a while back, he was a stranger to you; you limited yourselves to brief glances and seemingly meaningless conversations, which in the end brought you closer together. Although you were still strangers to each other, in theory, Bucky was the closest person to you. Marriage didn't terrify you as much as it used to, because you ended up with him.

“What?” Bucky's voice brought you out of your thoughts. You must have been looking at him while drifting off.

“It’s… weird.” You squinted. He gave you a confused look. “You. Here,” you explained. “I’m not used to this. To having someone around,” you continued, coming to realize all this while making Bucky understand your thoughts. “We haven't- We haven’t really had the chance to... you know, live as a married couple.”

“Yeah…” he agreed, looking away.

You thought you were strangers to each other, yet you knew perfectly well that absent-minded gaze; the one combined with the thoughtless nibbling of the inside of his lower lip. You didn't want him to cast doubt on every decision that led him to this place.

“But we probably shouldn't think too much about it,” you suggested. “Do what you feel like doing. It's your home and…” You shrugged.

“My home and my wife?” Bucky tilted his head slightly, this time watching you with a somewhat challenging look.

You just smiled, considering it the only appropriate response to this gentle provocation, and turned around with the intention of continuing to prepare your meal. You managed to reach for the pan and set it on the stove when Bucky stood behind you. You heard his approaching footsteps, but rather thought he was going to put his cup in the sink. Instead, you felt his body almost against your back; he wasn't touching you, but his presence was nearly tangible.

“Is it okay if I hug you?” he asked in a low voice, and as your breath caught in your throat, his brushed your neck.

“I think so,” you didn't have to whisper, but your tone automatically matched his.

Bucky moved as close to you as possible; his torso was in contact with your back so tightly that you could feel the quickened, uneasy beating of his heart. His arms wrapped around your body at rib height, and your hands reflexively rested on his forearms. Bucky leaned his chin on your shoulder. You didn't speak, absorbing this closeness in silence. For a moment, you forgot about the months of separation; about the fact that you weren't actually connected by true, deep affection – in that moment, it felt like you had known him forever.

He placed a light kiss on your neck, making you shiver; your shoulder lifted up to your ear, trying to cover that area.

“That’s scratchy.” You chuckled quietly.

“I'll shave in a minute,” he muttered into your skin.

“You don't have to,” you protested right away. “I like how it feels. I don’t really mind. Besides…” You shrugged. “It suits you.”

You felt Bucky's lips, still on your neck, stretch in a smile.

“Leave it,” he spoke after a while. “I'll get us some breakfast,” he added, and only then did you realize what he was actually talking about.

“It's not like I was going to prepare a three course meal.” You raised your eyebrows. “Anyway…” you hesitated, letting out a deep breath. “I have to be at the gallery soon.”

Bucky groaned. “Today? Why?”

You turned around carefully enough not to break out of his embrace. You looked at his face – besides the obvious disappointment, from this distance you could see perfectly well how tired he was. You pressed your lips together, and as if that would make things better, you raised your hands to his cheeks. It appeared that you were right – the helpless displeasure in Bucky's eyes eased; he softened, relaxed under your touch.

“We are organizing a bigger exhibition. I started it while you were away, and I didn't know when you would return. I don't want to rush it,” you explained. Bucky looked at you carefully, as if to help himself process your words and come to terms with their meaning. “I also have a meeting scheduled with one investor today, so I need to be there.”

“Sure, I understand…” Bucky sighed. You were a little surprised by his stance – you thought he would appreciate a few hours to catch his breath; a few hours just for himself. Apparently, he liked you more than you assumed, and it honestly made you happy. “But I'll drive you there. And then I'll pick you up.”

“Okay.” You beamed in a way that teenage girls used to give to boys waiting in the parking lot of the school after classes were over. “I'll go get dressed.”

When you moved away from him, Bucky imperceptibly pinched your ass, making you giggle and quicken your step towards the exit from the kitchen.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You looked directly at Adrian, saw his lips moving, but no, you weren't listening to him. At least not for the past few minutes, when the conversation began to gently drift away from the subject of the gallery. Instead of concentrating on what at some point turned into a monologue, you kept returning to your last moments with Bucky – to him showing up in the bedroom shortly after you; he had settled back on the bed, leaning on his elbow, unceremoniously watching you get dressed. Although, you didn't rid of his t-shirt until you'd put on your underwear, Bucky seemed satisfied with the view – focused almost to the point of forgetting the rest of the world, he observed you slipping into a short dress; short enough that he didn't have to put particularly much effort into getting to you when you were both filled with desire all over again.

So no, you weren't listening to Adrian. You were thinking about a quickie before work.

“Of course I am.” You smiled playfully.

“Yeah? So what did I say?”

Adrian wasn't really your investor – he didn't benefit financially. You met him through Connie, so you trusted that relationship to some extent. And at the very beginning you hoped that Adrian – as a young, fearless man – would not have hidden motivations. It quickly became clear that he was interested in you, and that you couldn't draw a hard line. His money was a comfortable addition to the gallery's business; paradoxically, it gave you more freedom. You were young and the gallery was a relatively fresh venture to say no to anyone who had shady intentions towards you.

“The usual. Y/N, go out with me. I'm begging,” you said, making Adrian laugh. Fortunately.

“So maybe you should actually consider it?” He tilted his head. “And what are you thinking about so hard anyway?”

“About my husband,” you responded without hesitation. “You know I have a husband, right? You saw the ring.”

“The thing is…” Adrian sighed. “The last time we saw each other was when? Two days ago? And you didn't have the ring. I'm sorry, but I don't believe you've managed to get married since then.” He raised his eyebrows. “I have a theory. Do you want to hear it?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I think there is actually no husband,” he continued. “You just don't want to be nagged by men. You are one of those women who are firmly convinced that they can live without one.”

“Oh, Adrian…” you winced. “Such a pretty face, but what you just said... It ruined everything.”

“So you do like me.”

The buzz of the phone saved you from going any further on this topic. You glanced at the lit up screen.

I’m here.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is this some friend of yours? You asked her to pretend to be your ‘husband’ and get you off the hook?” Adrian almost burst out laughing.

“Mhmm. Something like that…” you mumbled, at the same time replying to Bucky:

Can you come to my office?

You put the phone away, your gaze back on Adrian. “Do you want something to drink?” This suggestion was not only due to the fact that you preferred to treat your sponsor with appropriate courtesy; you didn't want to return to the subject of the husband he didn't believe in, and you couldn't bear to sit in silence and stare. “Because I do,” you confessed, mainly to get up from your seat and take at least a few steps away.

“I’d love to.”

From the cabinet you kept alcohol in, you reached for a bottle of an expensive whisky. “The usual, right?”

But Adrian had no chance to answer. He was overtaken by a knock and soon after, Bucky appeared in the entrance. Wearing the leather jacket you last saw that evening after your father's funeral, holding a helmet. Your attention, however, was caught by something else – the brief moment of confusion crossing his face.

“Jamie,” you uttered softly. He didn't immediately shift his gaze to you. “Jamie,” you repeated after a moment – way more conscious than the first time – having remembered that you were not alone, “this is Adrian Lancy, my investor. Adrian, this is James Barnes-”

“The husband,” Bucky said, an insincere smile stretching his mouth as he shook Adrian's hand. That same smile stayed on his face when he approached you. Placing his hand on your hip, he planted a brief but tender kiss on your cheek. “Hi, babe.” He raised an eyebrow, and you stopped yourself from snorting a laugh. Bucky intended to be painfully obvious.

“Want something to drink, babe?”

Bucky glanced at your lips, then smirked. “No, I’m good.”

He put his helmet down on the desktop and took a seat in your chair. At that moment he looked stunning – very bossy; you could easily imagine him taking the throne of the Underworld; becoming the head of his Family.

“So,” Adrian began, “you ride motorcycles, Mr. Barnes?”

“Among other things, yeah,” he confirmed without any desire to elaborate, therefore dropping the subject. “Aren't the working hours already over?” Bucky cleared his throat. “If I were insanely jealous I would think you are keeping my wife on purpose. To spend more time with her.” Again that fake, but not blatantly fake smile.

“Are you insanely jealous?”

A short, dry laugh left Bucky's mouth. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Holding the drink prepared for you – a few ice cubes poured over a relatively small amount of gin and tonic – you handed the other glass of whiskey to Adrian, then perched on the edge of the desk. You needed your sponsor happy, so in an attempt to make amends for Bucky's behavior, you turned a blind eye to the fact that in this position your dress showed a little more of your body.

“Well…” Having taken the bait, Adrian started again. “Y/N is not sitting here for free, so personally I don't see any problem. I pay for every hour.”

You didn't know if he intentionally used those exact words, but what you did know was that it took a really trivial reason for Bucky to stand up for you. And that ‘standing up’ was – in most cases – all about painful, harsh physicality. It wasn’t a problem, not for you, but it could be for your business.

“You'd better pay her a lot, Mr. Lancy.”

You gave Adrian an apologetic look, though he didn't seem offended. But looking at that unsettling, indefinable expression on his face, you would have preferred him to be.

He emptied his glass with one tilt, then got up from his seat. “I'll get going.”

You slid off the desk, and as the men shook hands again, you walked Adrian to the door. Usually you would have accompanied him all the way to the exit of the gallery, but this time you both decided not to get under Bucky's skin any deeper.

Having closed the door, you leaned your back against its surface. Bucky was standing by the desk with his hands in his pockets. He was looking at you with a softness you didn't think you deserved, but there was something else to it.

“You didn’t punch him…” You squinted curiously. “Why?”

Taken aback, Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Did you want me to punch him? I can still catch up to him-”

“No, it's not necessary,” you said, ignoring the tease in his tone. You tilted your head to the side, folding your arms. “I'm just wondering why you spared him.”

“You almost showed him your pants,” he replied, shrugging indifferently. You parted your lips, ready to express offense, but Bucky was right – indeed, you almost showed Adrian your pants. “I gathered he must be important for you. That's why I didn't want to blow it.”

You smiled with affection.

“I'm not sure how to feel about all this,” Bucky continued, squinting slightly. “I'm not surprised. Jealous, yes, but not surprised.”

“Meaning..?”

“I’m impressed by how you act on men. How you deal with them,” he said. “John Walker, now Adrian, and even... Even me. You wrap everyone you meet around your finger. But I knew that. I knew that from the very beginning,” he stated, frowning. “You're a fucking magnet.” He snorted quietly.

“Are you mad..?” you asked, your voice so soft it surprised him.

“No, of course not,” he assured immediately. “It's… pretty amazing. But they think they can say and do whatever they want. And that's the part that worries me. That one of these men will go too far, and I won't be around to stop them.”

You lowered your gaze. You didn't even realize when your fingers began to play nervously with the fabric of your dress. Bucky was right – you were able to deal with men in a way that would benefit you. But it wasn’t like that with him; you didn't want his money, you didn't want favors, you didn't care if he agreed to your every request. You just wanted to be liked by him. Tolerated by him.

“Do you need money, Y/N?” Bucky asked calmly. “Do you need Lancy’s money?”

Lifting your head so fast your neck almost snapped, you looked up at Bucky. A wave of unpleasant heat spread all over your body. You didn’t say a word about that, yet he knew everything. “No,” you lied.

“Are you sure? Because I have money. And now it's your money, too.”

“Yes, I know,” you replied, giving him the most beaming grin you could afford – hoping to dissuade him from any possible doubts. “Can you take me home now?”

Bucky also smiled, so you got the impression that he believed you, and as a result, wouldn't return to the subject. He grabbed your purse, took his helmet off the desk and walked to you. He watched you with the same cocky smirk when you tried to take your purse from him, but at first he didn't want to let it go.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Barnes?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he said casually, shrugging, then reached behind your back to open the door. “Mrs. Barnes.” He nodded. Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach – without much effect – you gave him an indulgent look.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

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