#and i agree with the sentiment of the comment but 'this would have ended in a dramatic breakup' is i think not the point | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldenstring6123 · 4 months ago

Note

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNXxJ8TM/

THIS IS SO CUTE PLS I CAN SO CLEARLY SEE THE LADS MEN DOING THIS 😭 and the comment section had me dying where is evb finding these MEN 😔🙏

Lnds: Sleepy time!

Warning: No warnings, afab!reader, fem!reader

Authors note: Fluff (not a lot of it) and a bit of domestic stuff.

Sylus:

It had been 30 minutes since you left the bedroom. Sylus was already well on his side of the mattress, reading the news while waiting for you to come back. He thought you were just up and about doing your normal routine of drinking herbal tea and doing skincare, but it was taking you far longer than usual.

He settled the tablet down on the nightstand and walked out of the bedroom. He searched for you in every room he passed by, and when he arrived at the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, there you were, perfectly tucked in under the unused duvet.

You were curled into a ball and too engrossed in the video you were watching; you didn't even notice the black fuzzy threads wrapping around your weird curled-up position. You lifted off from the bed, and when you came to, the view was of Sylus' back as you involuntarily made your way back to his bedroom.

"So you're not going to put me down?" you asked, paying attention to the video again. "Are manners not a thing anymore?"

The brooding man didn't spare you a glance. "I'm not open for discussion. You're supposed to sleep in my bedroom. Our bedroom."

"I just wanted a bed all to myself," you uttered. Here you were, planning what to watch and what to eat for the whole night, and this guy managed to foil it.

"I don't share the same sentiment, sweetie. You have the bed every time I'm overseas on a work trip. It's even infested with your colorful pillows," he opened the door to the bedroom and reeled you in, gesturing to your side of the bed which had vibrant pillows and bed 'pets,' as you like to refer to them.

"You really can't sleep without me, can you, Mr. Big guy? Afraid that someone's under the bed or something?"

"I'm more afraid that you're going to ravage my food pantry when you're not in my line of sight."

"The guest bedroom is nowhere near the pantry and I don't ravage it—I simply take a few snacks," you clarified. "Greg would be sad if the food spoils."

"Either way, you sleep in my bedroom or my couch, nowhere else, sweetie."

"Admit it: You like my company, don't you?" You gave him a cheeky grin.

"Yes, yes," Sylus agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You make a good meat shield when we get attacked in this bedroom."

"Oh wow. Reduced to a shield." You rolled your eyes in return and slipped under the covers. "That's Onychinus' leader for you."

"Right. Are you done now? I still have an early schedule for tomorrow."

"Alright, alright. I'm heading to bed now. You can sleep."

"Good. Now come here." Sylus opened his arms and you found yourself huddled right into it like it was the perfect mold. You shifted a bit and could feel his muscles relax against your back.

"Why did you feel the need to sleep in the guest room tonight?" Sylus asked under his breath.

"I was planning on reading comics all night. Tara recommended a new romance comic which I like, but knowing you, you'd probably take my phone away."

"Then it looks like I will be the bad guy tonight."

"Maybe. Until you fall asleep." You shrugged.

You hear the handcuffs being pulled out.

Shit.

Xavier:

3:02 AM, it says on the clock. You weren't on the bed. It was cold and it was proof that you never went on it, which was odd considering you told sleepy little Xavier that you were going to stay over. Poor little tired hunter was exhausted after a day's work and couldn't help but doze off while watching you do your little night ritual of moisturizing and doing a facemask.

Xavier sat on the side of the bed, letting out a big yawn. He didn't know where you were, but all he knew was that he didn't like being alone. From his palm, a faint whirlpool of light emanated, enough to guide him through his dark abode. His first thought was maybe you were watching in the living room. You weren't there. He then headed to the small bedroom right beside his, a spare one for guests, but it went unused when you both shared the same bed now.

He tried his best to quietly open the door. There he saw a little bump on the mattress and it made his heart squeeze; you were adorable and looked so small. Xavier tiptoed and folded the blanket away from you. He took a deep breath and lifted you up bridal style, pressing you against his chest.

"hm?…Xavier?" you slurred, vision dark and blurry.

"I'm moving you to our bedroom," he kissed the top of your head and continued his journey to the other room.

"You were sleeping," you paused, looking for the word. The drowsiness didn't seem to go away. "didn't want to…disturb you."

Xavier wanted to say something, but he and you both arrived at the side of the bed. He gently laid you down and placed a pillow between your limbs, which you automatically hugged. Xavier crawled to his side of the bed and yanked the cover over the both of you. Though you both weren't exactly touching, the little hunter's heart eased at your presence.

Gladly, he went back to sleep, hoping to maybe see you in his dreams.

Zayne:

Zayne's house was far too quiet when he arrived. It was only 7 o'clock, and by then you'd usually be in the kitchen, peeking your head out with a ladle in hand. There was no "welcome back" nor a simple "hello," but what did he expect? You were mad at him.

It's a shallow fight, really. Zayne decided to put you on alcohol time-out and took your hidden beers that you were so ready to drink after a grueling day at work. Zayne's judgment was far better than yours because when you get drunk beyond mental capacity, you tend to make a mess of the house, and you turn into a rage-filled, feisty lady. Moreover, you'd been chain-drinking for the whole week, and Zayne was getting concerned because you kept having hangovers.

His hands twisted on the knob to the little library of his house, where he would always find you on nights like these. There you were, curled in the lazy boy sofa and turned away from him. You were awake, but you didn't want to look at your lover.

"I'm home," Zayne declared.

"Dinner's in the fridge. Heat it up," you responded and closed your eyes. Zayne's footsteps grew closer and closer to you, and you felt his palm land on your shoulder.

"Your back will hurt if you sleep in that position."

The sofa might look soft and admittedly it's pretty comfortable to sit on for a long period of time, but with the curled-up position you have, it was bound to hurt when you fall asleep.

"I'm perfectly fine," you replied.

"Don't be stubborn." Zayne decided to pick you up. You wanted to thrash and get out of his grasp, but then you would look childish.

"I don't want to be with you tonight."

Zayne kept his lips in a thin line. He's more than aware that you're saying that because you're mad, but still—It hurts to hear it from you.

Gently, Zayne settled you in the middle of the bed. "I'll sleep in the living room. Stay here," he whispered and tucked the blanket over your shoulders. It was dark in the bedroom, so you couldn't exactly see him. You rolled over to face away from your lover and patiently waited for him to leave.

1:34 AM. You couldn't sleep. A can of beer would do you some good, but your tongue wasn't craving the bitterness of it. Instead, your mind looped over to a few hours ago when you said something that you didn't mean. It was harsh now that you think about it.

Now Zayne is keeping his distance from you. The owner of the house is sleeping on the couch.

With two pillows and a blanket in hand, you made your way down the flight of mahogany stairs. The living room was in full view, and Zayne was fast asleep on the couch. You nudged the two ottomans to the space between the coffee table and the main sofa. Then you threw the pillows and spread the blanket wide, letting it flutter down while you made yourself fit on the ottoman chairs.

You left a few spaces between you and Zayne, one that was filled by the cold pillow.

2:46 AM. Zayne stirred awake and found a blanket draped over his body. Beside him was his supposedly angry lover, clutching the hem of his shirt. He stared up into the chandelier above and took the pillow that was bordering between them, used it as his own, and pulled you closer, nudging the blanket over both of you even more.

Rafayel:

He's standing by the doorway, tapping his foot while a plushie was tucked under his armpit. He was frowning, and you could even see it through the dark.

"What?" you asked, shining the phone his way.

"So you're going to leave me alone tonight? Is that how you're going to play?" He was mad-mad, but that's why you were confused.

"Hey, drama king—you were complaining earlier in the day about my bad sleeping habits—I'm giving you the bed now so you can be at ease, but now you're mad at me again. Do you want me to sleep on the floor of your bedroom or something?"

"Duh? Of course not. I'm just complaining because it's true, but I never said you should sleep in the guest room."

"Then are you going to be alright with my sleeping habits?"

"No."

"Then sleep alone."

An audible gasp could be seen on the expression of the Lemurian. He looked so offended with the end of the conversation, but you weren't having it, so you plopped back onto the bed and hid under the covers, hoping that he'd go away.

The moment you peeked back out, you were rapidly crushed under heavy weight, making you sink to the bottom of the bed. Rafayel lay spread out on top of you, keeping you in your position and crushing you underneath him.

"Get off me! You're heavy!" You struggled underneath the blanket, nudging him and kicking him, but he pretended to be a dead body floating in the water. Rafayel kept still; if verbal convincing won't work, then he'll have to make you change your mind.

"Fine! Fine! I'll sleep with you!" you screamed. He rolled to the side, propped his elbows up, and rested his head on his palm. You just wanted to rub that triumphant grin off his face. He happily scooted underneath the blankets and hogged your side of the bed, wrapping his hand around you and shutting his eyes.

You didn't want to make a big deal of it further and decided to head to bed as well.

You were stirred awake by a strain in your neck. The lids of your eyes lifted at the electrifying pain that traveled to your head. You squinted, barely able to process the faint blue outside the window. Your body was spread out again, and nearby you could see Rafayel making use of the awkward space he was left with.

Guilt washed over your tired body.

Without much thought left, you held onto two pillows and let your body slip down to the carpeted floor. You hugged the pillow and placed another one under your head, liking the furry texture that brushed the side of your bare arms and legs. You closed your eyes again and let the tiredness wash over you.

It was cold for a summer morning. A large yawn escaped your lips and you patiently waited for your eyes to focus, and when they did, your eyes widened immediately at the beautiful sight of a sleeping Lemurian. Rafayel, too, was now on the floor, using his own arm as a pillow.

You tapped on his shoulder, and he just pulled you down back to the floor. "Five more minutes," he groaned, burying his face in your collar. Luckily, it was a Saturday, and you didn't have to go to work. You could indulge him in the meantime.

Author's footnotes: lol the tiktok was very cute, something that you'd see in a rom-com enemies to lovers sort of romance story. It would be a pretty redundant snippet if every situation is the same for the love interest so I took the liberty of changing things a bit.

Layout by me, using Canva Premium | Do not repost

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pellucid-constellations · 10 months ago

Text

Reversal

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: When protecting your mate brings out a side you swore to keep hidden, you have to deal with the consequences.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, angst, some self-deprecation

a/n: This is loosely based off of this request <3 thank you for sending it!! I hope you enjoy and I also love comments!! ♡

Masterlist ♡

In the heat of battle, there was kindness.

That was a ludicrous sentiment, and Azriel had reminded you of that many times, but it was something you believed in.

War was hot flames and blood and the clashing of metal, but it was also reassurance and soft hands and wisps of healing light. If war was cruel and it stole, you were kind and you gave.

The first war had been a teacher, guiding you to your role. The second war had been reinforcement, showing you what it meant to be the Night Court’s healer. And then you thought you were done—done with attempting the impossible.

But then Beron took a stance that no one could foresee, and you were not done.

With the soldiers of Autumn Court came an impenetrable heat, and it was your job to quell the scars that plagued Rhysand’s frontlines. You were the one set to heal the broken and save the damned, and you were the one set to protect the court with kindness.

It was awful work.

Azriel was always quick to agree.

Your mate hated these wars more than you did, and that was an almost impossible feat. Azriel was never close to you in the throes of battle. There was always a cluster of shadows on your trail, but he could never be there himself. You knew it ate away at him, distracting him when he was supposed to be zeroed in on the enemies.

But, you had reminded him as he held you close in the tent the night before, you hadn’t died yet, and maybe you’d never die from a war. Maybe you weren’t destined to.

He had only pulled you closer at that, pressed his lips to your head as his wings hid you from the camp that made far too much noise. He held you so tightly you felt his pulse on the skin of your cheek and you pretended you were back at home.

Because although you were the kindness within the war, you wanted to go home.

Gods, did you want to go home.

Flames raced along the outskirts of the blue shield that had enveloped you the moment your knees hit the ground beside the unconscious Illyrian soldier. They pushed and pried, trying to force their way past your mate’s protection as you trained your attention on the wound marring the soldier’s skin.

Azriel would protect you.

He always did, even when he couldn’t be beside you.

“I’m… going to die,” the male beneath your hands huffed out, a line of sweat at his brow.

“No,” you assured. “No, you’re going to be okay. I just need a few more moments.”

You couldn’t see what was making him so assuredly pessimistic—couldn’t see the way the flames were creating cracks in the shimmering blue light. They were covering every inch of the shield, making the air in the circle red with heat and promised death.

You noticed a moment too late.

It was unbearable, the suffocating fire. You threw your body over the soldier as if that would make a difference, arms and shoulders wrapping over his head as your leathers scorched and your lungs burned. The male screamed, his legs thrashing. You wanted to replicate the sound, but you were kindness. Kindness did not scream.

It ended as abruptly as it began, flames dissipating into blackened embers. You felt a crack in the bond during the disappearance, Azriel’s fear and rage embedding itself into the golden thread connecting you. That, too, ended as abruptly as it began; Azriel shut his side down, saving you from the ravaging emotions.

You whipped around to search for him, eyes up towards the sky. You found him quickly, with a practiced eye. You’d looked for him in every room you’d entered for almost your entire life. It was easy to find Azriel. As easy as breathing.

That breath was stolen from you the moment your gaze locked on his form.

He was falling.

He had charged—alone—into the group that was to blame for your injuries, for the flames that had almost consumed you, and now he was falling.

He was falling and he wasn’t conscious.

You think you screamed, but that couldn’t be right. Screaming led to panicked patients, and panicked patients led to worse outcomes. Your screams were not welcomed in war.

You tugged at the bond, desperate to rouse him into saving himself. But it was no use; he was plummeting to the ground and there was nothing you could do.

When you looked back on it later—when it fizzled as dim memories within your dreams—your actions would become more clear. You’d remember that you stood up, and then the ground shook. That the years of training required to be a field healer included so much more than twisting bursts of soothing light.

And something within you had awoken that day, the moment you saw wakefulness leave Azriel’s being… something that was not kindness or giving or calm.

It was rage.

A piece of you recognized that Azriel had been caught. Cassian’s wings had most likely ached from the speed with which he dove to catch his brother, but both members of your family were safe. Harmed, but safe. Not dead.

Your rage didn’t care.

Something deep within you snapped, and light was pouring from the tips of your fingers. It wasn’t the same hue that healed. It was darker; a hungry red.

The enemies from the sky fell.

When those on the ground saw the damage you had inflicted, you became their target. And fine, let them, because this power coursing through you had no sense of who was to blame for your mate’s injuries. To you, everyone was a threat. Everyone was to blame.

With a practiced grace, tainted by years of disuse, you attacked. The scene was cloaked in a red hue. Fae after fae charged at you, but it was all fruitless. You felt pain, injuries covering your skin, but it was all muted by the overwhelming desire to end this. To somehow soothe the ache you felt from watching your mate fall.

Time became obsolete.

Morals became blurred.

You were a machine, a complete reversal from the position you had assumed all those years ago.

“Y/n!”

Through the fog, a scream.

“Y/n, stop!”

Another far away call.

“It’s done. It’s over. Stop. Look at me and stop.”

Something was pressing against your cheeks. It was firm and grounding and the focus returned to your gaze.

“That’s it. Look at me, y/n.”

Cassian. When all was righted, Cassian stood in front of you, his posture hunched as he leaned down to catch your eyes. He was dirty and his leathers were torn, but all you could focus on was the panicked frenzy marring his face.

When he spoke next, the words were no longer accompanied by the incessant buzzing that had invaded your ears. “You with me, sweetheart?”

Your lips felt numb.

“Give me a nod or something. Az will kill me if you go catatonic on us.”

“I’m okay,” you whispered, voice rough. “Azriel, he—”

“He’s here.” Cassian turned your head in his hands, showing you the shadowsinger propped up against a dirt bank. “That self-sacrificing idiot is fine.”

He wasn't fine, not really. His breaths were labored and his hand clutched at his side with a shaky grip. You wanted to move towards him, to try and take away some of his pain, but your legs were stuck. Everything was stuck and you couldn't move.

It didn’t matter, anyway. When your eyes trailed up from his body, the look on his face would have deterred you from even speaking to him. He looked… horrified. Hazy eyes blinked across the battlefield—the one you decimated—and they shut just as fast. They squeezed shut, clamping down so tightly it looked like it hurt. Azriel seemed to shiver at the carnage.

When your chest heaved at the realization, your body seemed to shut down. You felt your legs give out first, heard the curse shot out by Cassian, and felt the hands pressing to your back as your mind gave way to unconsciousness.

When you woke, the heaviness in your body was not entirely physical.

There were, of course, a few broken bones. You could feel the aches and pains from battle and knew that you hadn’t gotten away unscathed, but that was all manageable. Fae healing was fast-acting and you would be fine within a few days.

But it wasn’t the physical pain keeping you from opening your eyes.

It was the reminder of Azriel’s face.

The disgust written into his features.

You were supposed to be his antithesis.

When Azriel came home at the end of a day, he was supposed to be comforted by your warmth and softness. You were kindness and light and graceful silence. You were a healer, granting life, and he was an angel of death.

Before you had met him, that had not been the truth. You were a healer, yes, but you were a field healer. The continent you hailed from prided themselves in being both the saviors of life and the bringers of death. You were to be the judgment—deciding who received which fate.

But then you met Azriel, and with him came balance. With him came the need to be only one part of you.

So you hid away the side of you meant to be cruel. You trained softly in self-defense only and you shied away from the instinct to protect with fists and power.

And you loved the way he looked at you because of it.

You loved the soft eyes and silent laughs; the tender way he held you and the sweet way he brushed his lips to your innocent skin. He coveted you, protected you, and you were the one he sought comfort in.

You were his mate, his equal, his mirror.

You wished your eyes could remain shut forever.

“Will she wake up soon?”

Mor, you could deduce.

“The healers said there was no way to know. She… Gods, Mor, you should have seen her out there. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Cassian.

“I wish I had been there. It sounds like she kicked some ass,” Mor smugly replied.

Cassian huffed out a laugh. “That’s an understatement.” A pause. “It was more than just that though. It was like she was using her healing in a different way. She cleared the field in front of her. There’s no way that just… came out of her.”

“You know what the mating bond does to people. What it can unleash.”

“I get that. But it looked natural for her. It looked practiced.”

You heard Mor sigh. A hand brushed against the top of yours, taking it into a soft grip.

“I just hope she's alright,” Mor murmured.

“She has to be.”

When you awoke next, it was alone. You had been fighting sleep for what you assumed to be the better part of a day and decided that was enough. Eventually, you had to face the consequences of your actions.

You swung your feet over the side of the cot, feeling surprisingly rested and well despite the few pains shooting along your limbs. You took hesitant steps towards the mouth of the tent, propping open the canvas billowing in the wind before taking a more confident step onto dirt and rocks.

“Good, you’re up.” It was Rhysand who spotted you first. “Just in time for our debrief.”

The casualness with which he spoke left you disoriented. The High Lord only blinked at you, a small, impassive smile on his face as he waited for you to take the arm he had outstretched. Your mouth parted as if to speak, but nothing was coming out.

“I know you’re recovering, y/n, but I need my best at this meeting,” he encouraged, elbow jutting towards you. “Come. We’ll speak and then we’ll return to Velaris. We will go home.”

Your reservations were odd when you compared them to the understanding on Rhys’s face. He wasn’t upset or disgusted or angry; the High Lord’s smile turned up at the corner of his mouth and his expression spoke of sympathy, as if he already knew about the turmoil raging within you.

“Azriel—”

“Is there already. Unhappy, but there.”

Unhappy.

Of course.

Who would want a mate that ravaged battlefields?

Your lip quivered, but you bit it to stop the emotion from showing. “Right,” you nodded, and you let Rhys guide you to the large tent in the middle of the camp.

It was full; you had to push your way in to meet the rest of your court. Azriel was the only one seated amongst them, and you could tell by the twitch of his wings that he had been placed in that chair begrudgingly.

Your eyes skated across his for a fleeting moment. You were quick to turn away, focusing on the material of Rhys’s jacket as he stopped in the corner of the tent.

There was a faint tug on the bond, muted by the wall you had erected. You thought about letting it down, but you were scared of what you’d feel. Azriel was a good male; good enough to attempt to hide the revulsion he was feeling.

But you’d be able to parse it out the second you dropped your mental shield.

You kept your eyes forward as the high lords spoke around the tent. The large table in the center was covered in maps and wooden pegs and you flowed in and out of focus as treaties and strategies and plans all mingled in the space.

Another tug at the bond.

Another shield placed around your mind.

“And what of her?”

Rhys took a step in front of you, covering half of your body from view. “What of her?” he countered, a calmness in his tone as he replied to the High Lord of Spring.

Tamlin raised a brow. “Are we just supposed to ignore that your ‘healer’ is a danger to all of our courts?”

“You are a fool,” Feyre spat out, hands splayed on the table.

“She is a weapon,” Tamlin seethed, finger jutting out towards you.

You flinched, and the room exploded in shadows.

You heard several gasps, a few weapons being unsheathed, but over everything was the low rumble of Azriel’s voice.

“Don’t speak of her as if she is an object,” he threatened. “Don’t speak of my mate at all.”

“Reign in your dog,” Tamlin spat, but that only spurred on the hostility in the room.

A chair screeched back, crashing against wood as loud, reverberating footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent tent. No one made a sound. Some of the shadows gave way, retreating to wind around your body, and you were met with the scene across the table.

“I will show you a weapon, High Lord,” Azriel promised, chest-to-chest with Tamlin.

The sight made you sick.

Azriel was a protector. You were used to that truth. But before, things were different. Before, he was protecting you while you were still pure, still innocent in his eyes.

Now, it was after. After you had killed and killed for him. After he had hurtled to the ground and awoken to find the death his mate had caused. And he was still protecting you, defending you, despite it all.

Were you really worth this?

You were worth it before.

Now, you weren’t so sure.

On shaking legs, you shouldered your way out of the tent, breath caught in your lungs. The ringing from the battlefield returned to your ears, blocking out the conversations starting in your absence. The shadows stayed with you, twirling with alarm and flowing through your hair in an attempt to gain your attention.

A weapon. That explained you well—the ability to save lives and take them away. If they all considered you a weapon, where would you go? By Tamlin’s logic, being locked away would be best.

Maybe that was best.

You wondered what Azriel would think was best—where his weapon of a mate belonged. Because it was certainly no longer in the calmness of the home you shared.

Your shaking continued as you brought your hand up to your forehead. Azriel did that sometimes, when you were panicked or anxious or scared. He’d place his scarred touch on your forehead and lean your head up to grant you more air. He’d follow with his lips and then pull you into his arms, but you knew none of that was coming.

So you leaned forward and felt the sobs creeping up your chest to take the place of air. Your knees fell to the dirt and you collapsed into the feeling of your family, love, life changing forever.

Until the shadows retreated.

You glanced up when their swishing stopped and found another pair of knees pressing to yours in the dirt. The leathers covering them were fresher than yours, cleaner, but they were also wrapped in bandages and stabilizers that matched the ones along their ribs and stomach.

Another crane of your neck and Azriel was leaning down to catch your gaze, mouth parted. Maybe he’d been speaking for a while; the buzzing made it impossible to know.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked, low and so, so concerned. Much more concerned than you deserved. Much more gentle than he had spoken in the tent.

And all you could think to say was, “I’m sorry,” and you sobbed out the words with gut-wrenching sincerity.

“I’m sorry, Azriel. I’m so sorry. I never meant—I never wanted this—“

Azriel shushed you, his fingers working to guide your hair away from your face. You felt selfish for needing that from him as his body was bandaged and his wings were wrapped.

“I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I was. That I’m a monster. You were just falling so fast and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn't stop it,” you gasped out, giving in to your instincts as you grappled at the material of Azriel’s shirt. “I wanted to protect you and there was nothing I could do. You’re supposed to feel safe with me and I’ve ruined everything.”

With each word came more tears and more heaving breaths. Azriel held you through each of them, his hands firm at your elbows, his head shaking as you laid everything before him. Occasionally, your name fell from his lips in a soft whisper, but he never interrupted you.

“I’m not supposed to be this person to you. I’m supposed to be all of the good parts, and now I’m—now I’m someone else and you can’t—you’re not going to love all of the parts and—”

“Look at me, angel,” Azriel softly interrupted, sliding his fingers along your hairline, his eyes searching every inch of your face. When your gaze snapped to his, a bittersweet smile graced his pretty features. “There she is.”

A hysterical laugh left you, your emotions mingling with his as the bond flowed freely between you. You didn’t have the energy or willpower to block him out anymore. A rush of relief was sent through you as Azriel realized the opening.

“You are not a monster.” Azriel’s whisper was so clear, so close. “And I love every part of you, y/n. Especially the part I saw on that field. You saved me—protected our court and family. How could I not love that?”

“I saw your face,” you whispered back, the words brushing Azriel’s lips as your foreheads met. “You looked—”

“I looked disappointed in myself.”

“In yourself?”

Azriel brought both hands to your cheeks. “I lead you to that carnage. Y/n, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to take that load for you… to shoulder that burden.”

“You aren’t… disgusted by me?”

“My love, I love you more. What you did for me… you’re so strong. Cassian told me how amazing you were. Why have you never told me?”

You shifted back on your knees, blinking under Azriel’s adoring, forgiving gaze. The shadowsinger didn’t let you get far, however, sliding his hands down your jaw, your shoulders, and settling on the tops of your thighs.

Touching you, it seemed, was imperative.

“When we were mated,” you began, tears still lingering in your throat. “I was new to Prythian—new to having a family. Everyone kept telling me that we were equals in opposite. They said I was a blessing from the cauldron to be so different from you but so in love. And then you… you called me things like peace and safety and calm. I saw the work you did and I knew I couldn’t tell you what I was trained for. Being a healer was enough.”

The hands on your thighs tense. Azriel’s shadows pooled beneath you, swirling like a puddle of darkness.

“I never meant for you to hide,” he murmured.

“Azriel—”

“Never, angel. You could burn down the world and you’d still be my peace. You could be a weapon and I’d find my safety in you.”

He sighed out a disbelieving laugh.

“I love you,” he affirmed, eyes so sure. “I love you when you heal the broken and I love you when you decimate battlefields.” A small smirk. “I wish I had known about the second half a little sooner. I might not have teased you about your book choices as often.”

You scoffed, a watery smile finally lighting up your face. “Don’t start.”

“Should I tell you all the other times I should have been wary? Or maybe all of the reasons Cassian should be afraid now? It seems that’s the only way to get you to smile, and seeing as you are the reason we won the war, you should be doing far more of it.”

The bond shone within you, bursting with joy as a laugh escaped your lips—a real laugh. The sound was soon smothered by Azriel’s kiss, and you knew things were changing.

And that was okay.

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel angst

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aibafiles · 1 year ago

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I've been sitting on why this video rubbed me the wrong way for a few days trying to formulate my thoughts on it and I really have to disagree - "Romeo is a fuckboy" is a very much a modern take on the play that ignores the literary devices at play and Juliet's own agency. Romeo and Juliet asks us to suspend our disbelief for the "love at first sight" trope, and Rosaline's presence (or rather lack of it) is critical to that.

Exploring Rosaline as a character through a modern lens is great—hell, I did the same myself for a personal project in high back in school—but the fact that she doesn't appear is very deliberate. We can't see Romeo's love for her as genuine because we don't even get to see who she is as a person, only his impression of her.

When he speaks about Rosaline in early scenes, he does a (bad) attempt at the Petrarchan sonnet form, a style of poetry associated here with flowery language pining after an unattainable woman. That tells us exactly what she is to him—the unattainable object of his shallow teen affections, and exactly what Juliet is not.

Juliet is a real flesh and blood person on the stage, one capable of engaging with Romeo on equal footing and actually reciprocating, and her first meeting with Romeo blows all of his cringefail poetry out of the water. We love to be cynical about love at first sight, but it's crucial to look at it in a theatrical context. The very first lines the two exchange form a sonnet: Romeo opens with a metaphor and lets Juliet expound on it. It's poetry created through mutual participation, the musical theatre equivalent of breaking into a duet. We are meant to take it seriously as an expression of mutual love, and Romeo's verse improves later on as well to drive the point home. If you have the time for it, there's a really great breakdown of the sonnet by Ben Crystal here (timestamped around 11:30 if it doesn't work) that I love. (And the whole video is worth it if you enjoy Shakespeare!)

So when Rosaline keeps coming up throughout the play, Shakespeare isn't secretly undercutting the romance or trying to frame Romeo as fickle and insincere—he's highlighting the contrast between Romeo's feelings for the two and reinforcing his relationship with Juliet. The tragedy doesn't lie in the two of them being Stupid Teens trying to rush things prematurely, but rather the adults responsible for the toxic environment that won't allow them to explore a relationship in the first place.

#SORRY FOR DOING THIS ON YOUR REBLOG this post just awakened the 18-year-old r&j era rage in me #batts sleeper agent moment.#anyway i tracked down the original tiktok too and the comments on there are. not good #i was gonna get into romeus & juliet too. but decided it wasnt as relevant to the video #god but like. juliet is a smart character. so much could have gone differently if the adults in her life respected her feelings #and i agree with the sentiment of the comment but 'this would have ended in a dramatic breakup' is i think not the point #r and j #shakespeare #vid #okay i finally wrote this post i can breathe

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temptaetions · 9 months ago

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spellbound secrets ✩ stray kids (m.list)

welcome to the spellbound institute of magic! have a look around, but don't peer too much — you could end up in a sticky web of secrets, lies, and love.

general content warnings: fluff, smut, angst, possible darker/heavy themes. warnings for individual fics vary, please read them accordingly before proceeding.

˖⁺‧₊ angel eyes - bang chan ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @temptaetions

✩ pairing: bcc x reader

✩ specialty: healing | memory inducement

✩ genre: teacher x student | strangers/idiots to lovers

✩ synopsis: you’ll think you’re in paradise, and one day you’ll find out he wears a disguise, don’t look too deep…

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ one's elixir - lee minho ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @felixitate

✩ pairing: lmh x reader

✩ specialty: alchemy | potions

✩ genre: acquaintances to lovers | academic mentor

✩ synopsis: you’re a walking disaster. not just in minho’s eyes but for anyone in the academy so when he was asked to supervise you, he had to agree to ensure everyone’s safety. but is it worth the risk to involve himself in something that even you can't control?

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ sweet escape - seo changbin ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @temptaetions

✩ pairing: scb x reader

✩ specialty: interdimentionalism (pocket dimension creation) | empathic transference

✩ genre: friends to lovers | secret admirer

✩ synopsis: forever, perfectly together…and tell me, boy, now wouldn’t that be sweet?

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ fleeting mirage - hwang hyunjin ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @felixitate

✩ pairing: hhj x reader

✩ specialty: illusionism | phantasmagoria

✩ genre: rivals to lovers | childhood sweethearts?

✩ synopsis: as both the top students in your program, getting along should always have been maintained between you. however, something always sparks any feud, hindering your cooperation by whatever means necessary. would you be able to put it aside when your positions start to get threatened?

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ cherry bomb - han jisung ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @temptaetions

✩ pairing: hjs x reader

✩ specialty: fusionism | sentimental awakening

✩ genre: coworkers to lovers | mutual pining

✩ synopsis: lips on my lips, hearts beating as one…but you slip out of my fingertips, every time you run.

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ in bloom - felix lee ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @felixitate

✩ pairing: lyb x reader

✩ specialty: floramancy | herbalism

✩ genre: classmates to lovers | forbidden love

✩ synopsis: watching him from afar while he tends to those flowers never fails to make your heart flutter. but for the sake of your secret, you’ve kept your distance. until when can you avoid him before he notices the signs of your waning abilities that only he can maybe help with?

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ silver springs - kim seungmin ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @temptaetions

✩ pairing: ksm x reader

✩ specialty: catoptromancy | empathic transference

✩ genre: exes to lovers | semi-first loves au

✩ synopsis: i know i could've loved you, but you would not let me, i'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you.

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ shifting feelings - yang jeongin ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @felixitate

✩ pairing: yji x reader

✩ specialty: polymorphy | divination

✩ genre: enemies to lovers | soulmates

✩ synopsis: he’s an enigma. with enchanting eyes that became everyone’s whispers each time he passed by but you’re not shaken. who’s to say you can’t unravel the truth when he slowly reveals this part of himself that he’s been persistently guarding the more you pry?

✩ read here!

host notes: hey! thank you for reading our collab, we planned this so quickly it makes my head spin. just for reference, all specialties in italics are secondary to their primary specialty, or an extension of it. everyone is a wizard. if you’d like to know more about each story then please head to our respective mail boxes! feel free to comment or send an ask our way to be added to a taglist. please have your age and/or year of birth in your description, otherwise you will not be added to the taglist. we hope you enjoy!

temptaetions © 2024 || felixitate © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

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Why did they change Fellow’s and Gidel’s name for EN but not Rollo’s? So weird you’d think they’d at least be consistent and change all the names or none at all.

[Referencing this post!]

hchfxbjsbajCgwhq Deep breaths, everyone 😅 Deeeeeeep breaths…

I know a lot of us might be displeased with the name changes (moreso with Fellow’s than with Gidel’s) but let’s remember that, at the end of the day, they’re just names. They’re not erasing the original names, they’re not changing the context of the event story, and no one will force you to use the new names if you don’t want to. Your feelings are valid, but please be mindful about how you express them (because unfortunately I fear it can very easily veer into insulting or talking down to the localization/the localization team or fans who don’t mind/actually like the name changes 💦 It is partly for this reason that I did not include the other asks I received on this topic, as they could be needlessly inflammatory).

That being said, here are my thoughts on the matter: initially, I didn’t like the names. My automatic thought was that they sound like a corny 4Kids dub where they changed the Obviously Japanese Name (ex: Ichigo) to something Very Western (ex: Zoey). However, I’ll also be the first to admit that I also initially found the Japanese names odd because who names their kid FELLOW?? It’s like naming someone Person. I’m used to it now, but it definitely took me weeks and weeks to consider “Fellow Honest” a full name.

I’ve seen some people say that Fellow and Gidel’s names are meant to be silly sounding (and so the localized names are actually fitting), but I don’t agree with that sentiment. To my knowledge, no one in-universe ever laughs at their names or says they’re out of place. If the names were intended to be perceived as silly, there would be remarks indicating this. For example, “Tsunotaro”/“Hornton” IS silly because characters make explicit mention of how strange the nickname is. This is not true of Fellow and Gidel, so I don’t believe their names are supposed to be unserious.

I’ve also seen a lot of people poking fun at “Ernesto Foulworth” because “it sounds like such an obvious name for a scammer”. And yeah, maybe that’s true depending on who’s looking at it. I get where people are coming from. Buuut to play devil’s advocate, “Fellow Honest” invokes similar vibes. Both names have that element of honesty/earnest, but “Fellow” is more of a “John Doe” or generic name whereas “FOULworth” sounds bad since we associate the word foul with negativity. Essentially, both names are shady in their own ways but “Ernesto Foulworth” gets more flack because foul triggers an automatic negative association whereas fellow is more neutral.

So then I sat with the localized names for a little longer and the changes started to make a little more sense. To me, both sound very Italian, which fits given that Pinocchio has Italian origins. Additionally, “Ernesto” looks and sounds like “earnest”, which refers to being truthful. His surname, “Foulworth”, may be a reference to Honest John’s full name? Worthington Foulfellow. (I have no insights for Gino, unfortunately… other than making him “match” Fellow’s name better since they’re a pair?)

In all honesty (heh) though, I still don’t really like the new names even considering that context. I’ll probably keep calling them by their Japanese ones. I’ll never be a fan of any name changes because it means I have to go back and edit the tags on ALL my related posts, lol

Side note: shoutout to all the folks saying the names sound Ace Attorney-esque, how you think of Ernesto de la Cruz from Coco, and/or joking about how the EN names are Fellow and Gidel’s fake identities/aliases while they’re on the run from the cops 😭 I laughed too hard reading those comments cbwhebjzbwiwhwlek

Now, I’m not sure why the names were changed considering that names prior have largely been unchanged (Cheka, Marja, Najma, Rollo, etc.), save for maybe some spelling changes (Meleanor -> Maleanor, Baul -> Baur, Farena -> Falena, Leven -> Raverne, etc.). The only huge exception to this is Kifaji, who became Neji in EN. Here’s some theories and speculation going around in the fandom about Fellow and Gidel’s changes:

Copyright issues???? For example, you can’t really trademark “Fellow” and “Honest”, but you could maybe trademark “Ernesto Foulworth”. (This doesn’t explain Gino’s name or why they couldn’t trademark “Fellow Honest”.)

Another interpretation of copyright issues theory is that there’s weird legal stuff happening between Aniplex and Disney (international), which forced the name changes. (I think this one assumes a lot of tight regulations and hinges on how litigious big corpos and especially Disney are when it comes to “protecting” their brand and properties.)

Some have suggested that “Fellow Honest” is noun-adjective word order, which is uncommon in English. In “Ernesto Foulworth”, the first name looks and sounds like the adjective “earnest”, meaning the adjective(s) come first, which is more common in English. (This theory is a little incomplete though; there is no noun in the localized name to complete the thought. Additionally, Japanese also usually goes with the adjective-noun rule, so “Fellow Honest” would be an unusual name for JP too. And again, no explanation for Gino.)

… ITALIAn REP BABY 🇮🇹

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markrosewater · 5 months ago

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Hi mark. There were a few people who had commented on the technology and aesthetic of Duskmourne and how it feels too close to the present, referencing planes like Capenna or Neo-kamigawa as other examples of modernity in Magic’s fantasy setting. Because I am the main character and my opinion is the most important one, I thought I’d give my two cents on the topic.

Although kamigawa and capenna are obviously more “modern” than a plane like innistrad, they still don’t feel like “now”. By definition, sci-fi is not modern. Although Neon kamigawa doesn’t feel like high fantasy, it doesn’t feel “modern” to me either, it’s too far in the future. In the opposite direction, Capenna feels too far in the past to feel “modern”. Yeah, arc spitter is a Tommy gun and the treasure token is a martini glass, but it still doesn’t feel like the present. My grandpa wasn’t even born until after the end of prohibition. Time period Capenna is based on was literally a century ago. Sure the aesthetic isn’t as far back in history as the aesthetic of a knight in shining armor, but it’s still far enough back that it feels like “another time”, at least to me.

I think the reason those two planes pass the vibe check is because they feel different enough from modern day. TV’s have existed since the late 1920’s, so it would have been historically accurate if the plane themed around 1920s America had TVs. but that still *feeeeeels* wrong. The vibes are off. Yeah sci fi japan would probably have cell phones or something, but that just feels wrong. In other words, fantasy (to me) isn’t about looking like lord of the rings, it’s about NOT looking like everyday life.

This is where Duskmourne comes in. I wasn’t alive in the 70’s or 80’s. Heck, I’m so young that my parents hadn’t even met until after homelands came out. But the 70’s and 80’s feels like modern day. Screaming nemesis and cursed recording have TVs in their art. The booster fun frame looks like it would be on a ghostbusters poster. I feel like I saw my baby cousin wearing the exact same outfit as Toby just the other day. The term “fear of missing out” is just such a modern day thing, even if that concept isn’t new. I’m withholding my judgement until I see the whole set, but based on what we’ve seen so far, I (somewhat) agree with the sentiment a lot of Duskmourne feels too “real”.

I’m sure more detail will be given closer to release, but I would be really interested in learning the whole process of how y’all built this world, even more interested than I would be with any other plane.

We're trying something new. Some people seem to like it, some don't. Time will show whether it was overall a good idea. I will say we need time to better gauge it. There are a lot of very popular Magic things that had an initial negative opinion.

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hatsheep · 6 months ago

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CALL OF DUTY ; TASKFORCE 141 and DAD TIKTOK TRENDS

Note. these aren’t meant to be serious!! this is gn reader (with only one mention of daughter) and meant to be silly. this also isn’t my writing acc but if u guys have a request for platonic tf 141 content go shoot.

CAPTAIN john price

- you sent him many tiktoks and reels, which he always begrudgingly watched during his deployment (mostly because he did miss you)

- he always sends back questions since he dosent understand some slang

- “yap???” “i’m sorry, what does cap mean?”

- when hes home, he was happy to help video you when you were out or when you wanted to do a trend

- but making HIM do a trend?

- it took you forever to convince your dad to do so…but it was worth it

- he would do trends like the “dad lore trend” with him being videoed in x2 speed as he pretended to talk

- “pov: your dad drops the craziest lore on a random tuesday” because he really genuinely does

- or the home depot one…

- “my dad when he sees someone fixing an airplane when we’re about to board our flight” and it’s just him with his hands behind his back or crossed while he watches the repairmen.

- in the end, he enjoys doing these trends with you. but god, if you keep on trying to prank him, he’s actually going to go crazy.

- everyone thinks he’s hot by the way. you have like 50 single/divorced moms in your comment section commenting about him every tiktok he’s in. sometimes people your age.

- “honey, what does beekeeping age mean?”

LIEUTENANT simon “ghost” riley

- you send him many tiktoks that contain silly puns. he on the other hand, only uses reels. either way, he sends you the dumb ones

- or the ones that are like

- “when your teenager is driving and narrowly avoids a tragic accident” or “me i ask my teenager who they’re going out with and it’s still the same group of people since middle school”

- as a dad, he’s honestly very protective over you, but he’s loosened up a bit over the years. he dosent want to be too strict, nor does he want to be too lax.

- he was terrified of becoming like his father.

- either way, if you thought you had to beg price to let you make tiktoks, you’d have to beg hard for your dad to

- simon won’t let you take tiktoks with his face in it, so he’s always his chest and below….or a mask, sunglasses, and a cap.

- surprisingly sentimental! the one tiktok he agreed to was

- “do i always have to kill spiders in your room?” “ofcourse you do, you’re my dad!”

- he teared up a bit

SERGEANT john “soap” mactavish

- boy, he loves doing tiktoks with you

- he loves sending them too!! a nice way for you guys to bond while he’s away is him sending you the really stupid tiktoks that the people of your generation would more commonly send

- he DOES now some slang! he….does NOT know some others though, skibidi toilet confuses him slightly

- he took the sigma male thing seriously for a bit because he thought it was a positive thing. he loves protecting his family and being strong

- sadly stopped when you broke the news to him that it was in fact, maybe not the best thing in real life.

- either way, such a good dad to do tiktoks with

- you can do those really silly ones with the tiktoks audios

- “when my dad finds out i get offended when people say i have my dads accent” with the regina george soundtrack

- “regina wait i didnt mean for that to happen!!” “do you know what everyone says about you?!?!”

- he loves doing them with you, he wouldn’t trade quality time with you for the world

- “be honest, do you really not like the accent????”

SERGEANT kyle “gaz” garrick

- more of a calm dad, but like simon, surprisingly sentimental

- he’s the one from the 141 who’s has the most morality issues, especially doing his job, so he always felt it was best to teach you important values

- he’s drilled into you to never change your ideals for others

- …which leads to him sending motivational quotes or those hopecore videos

- either way, he actually can be pretty silly and he’s the type of dad to get you watermelon every other day for the rest of your life if you say you like it once

- he can be a little blunt with you sometimes though, bless him

- “pov: my dad if he didn’t have me” (i’ll put my helipad over there…my olympic sized swimming pool, OVER THERE!!)

- you do these tiktoks with him (disregard gender because no matter what, he’d make you help)

- this is how poc parents be, pls understand

- you sent him this reel while he was on deployment and he couldn’t stop smiling

- “love you too, pumpkin. remember to take out the dishes”

- “did u have to remind me”

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louferrignojrofficial · 16 days ago

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I’m a major buddie shipper, I didn’t ship bt that much (although I could accept that it was canon so I didn’t absolutely hate it if you gwim) and tbh Tommy wasn’t really a character that I was invested in. However I was genuinely so shocked when they broke up?? I was watching the episode and when Tommy went to the loft I was fully prepared for them to go on a date, especially with the way the scene began. Whilst I’m obviously not as sad as you or most bt shippers are, I was completely unprepared for them to break up, especially with the way it happens. I think the fact that I didn’t even ship them and even I’m disappointed with that scene really speaks volumes to the fact that the writing was just bad, there wasn’t much build up the breakup (except the basketball tickets, maybe Tommy not being part of the gc as a reach) and the episode before clearly showed their relationship was thriving, so I have no idea where the breakup came from at all 😭

and also Lou totally deserved better. I’m not really his biggest fan (that’s nothing against him at all, I just don’t really keep up with any actors that aren’t mains) but the fact that not a single person defended him is insane. The way people treat Buck’s LIs is mental and they all genuinely deserve sm better. I personally think that the cast need to get better at defending the people who have to go through this, or at least saying something so that people will stop.

sorry this is so long! I just wanted to say that I agree with yall that the writing for the breakup was just straight bad, and even I (a buddie shipper) am able to see that

thank you for your perspective! i get how people would not be so invested in lou or bucktommy or tommy, regardless of whether they ship buddie as well. so it’s nice to see someone else with more objectivity comment on how abrupt it seemed.

and the hate lou got for months was crazy. like genuinely so insane, people hated him so much and even lou said the worst thing that happened to him was that he got death threats but i’m ??? how is that not a worrying sentiment? that he got death threats for portraying a gay character in a mlm relationship. that people hated him so much to do things like that and much more. the online harassment to him was RELENTLESS.

he didn’t deserve any of that and neither did bucktommy. they didn’t deserve to be hated on so badly, regardless of whether people shipped buck with someone else. i’m gonna forever be bitter about it, and how the relationship ended.

#anon #ask #911 #911 discourse #fandom wank

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longing-for-rain · 3 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/atla-confessions/759438562978562048/zutara-and-azutara-both-agree-katara-would-have?source=share

Do a post on this please I don't have the energy

I see this sentiment a lot lately, and yes, it is frustrating. But I’m going to talk about it because it perfectly illustrates the way (kataang) fans take power away from Katara’s narrative and reduce her complexity as a result.

For those too tired to look at the OP (understandable) it’s an anon saying that both Zutara and Kazula would be problematic and harmful to Katara because the Fire Nation would never accept her, and that she and her family would always be in danger yada yada blah blah.

And honestly? I agree with that. It would be dangerous for Katara. But if you think that would stop Katara, you fundamentally don’t understand her character.

Do you really think Katara is some poor little damsel who needs to be protected at all costs and sent away to live a quiet life in the countryside? No; that’s never been Katara. Katara wants to fight and she has never backed down from a challenge. It’s who she is.

Katara is the girl who left her home to travel across a war-torn world to chase even a chance that she could play a part in ending the war. She’s constantly putting herself in dangerous situations because she follows her heart, she does what’s right even if it’s a risk to her safety. The Katara we know from ATLA is not some demure, unassuming girl who would be happy to sit back and become known for her healing above all else while her friends fought in her place. Katara would have hated to see her future as it was written. She is loud. She is proud. She is a fighter.

Katara not only accepts a challenge; she’s eager for it. She’s strong, she knows it, and she isn’t afraid to use her power for good.

I know someone is going to jump in the comments and accuse me of “shaming” Katara for her “choices” (nevermind the fact that she’s a fictional character so every choice she makes isn’t her own; it’s a narrative chosen for her by the male writers) but I’m not even saying that being a healer is inherently weak or bad. I’m saying it’s not Katara.

It’s a shame that so many people are willing to overlook the butchering of her story just because they’re so protective over canon and are completely unwilling to engage with it critically.

This sentiment reflects the issues many fans have with canon kataang, because it’s a very common misogynistic trope in media. A female character can be strong, but it’s only temporary. We can see her fight and triumph, but at the end she’s expected to give that up for marriage and motherhood after the war. Her identity is reduced to her relation to a man. She isn’t expected to retain her strength; she is expected to accept a quiet recognition while the world sings the man’s praises.

That was the fate of Katara in canon. And it is a disservice to her character. Katara would have wanted to continue to fight, because the fight wasn’t over. Anon’s recognition that Fire Nation nobility would have an issue with her holding power shows they understand that too. So why do you think Katara would be fine with sitting back and letting that happen? Why do you think she’d let that scare her away? Not my Katara.

Especially when love enters the picture. Let’s say Katara did canonically love Zuko, or Azula, or anyone outside of her nation for that matter. Yes, it would be more difficult for her. But do you really think Katara would back down for that reason?

In fact, do you realize how insulting it is to imply that she should to anyone in an interracial relationship? Or a same sex relationship? Yes, societal pressure and bigotry make them more difficult. But it doesn’t make them wrong. And the idea that it’s selfish or wrong because it’s endangering the family is insulting.

Especially in the case of Kazula. The Fire Nation is canonically homophobic. There would be danger and backlash for any same sex relationship, especially involving a member of the royal family like Azula. So…what then. Are gay people supposed to stop existing? Is Azula supposed to just never date or marry because it would be too dangerous?

Yeah, no. 0/10, trash take, do better.

(This part is mostly a joke but I also want to point it out)

The anon also implies that Katara’s canon relationship (with the Avatar) wouldn’t also carry the same risks. Which it would, probably even more so. Katara could be used as leverage against Aang by people trying to get to him. I mean, it already happened in canon.

And quite frankly, Aang was pretty useless at protecting Katara in that situation. Look at his face. Literal baby goo-goo-ga-ga shit. She’s lucky Fong wasn’t willing to actually kill her and that she was safely underground when Aang had his Spirit Tantrum because she would have been dead meat. So if your argument is that poor helpless little Katara would be sooooo much safer with Aang, I’m really not convinced.

If you’re going to decide who to ship Katara with based on who can protect her from danger the best, well…

I’m just saying 🤷🏻‍♀️🍵

#katara deserved better #zutara #kazula #katara #zuko #azula #atla #avatar the last airbender #ask #anon #fandom salt #canon critical #aang critical #meta

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muddyorbsblr · 9 months ago

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the warmest bed i've ever known

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: dating era; a few days after 'when the feeling sinks in'

Summary: Tom has convinced you to go back to London with him for a few weeks, and a photo of you two out and about together has opinions firing left and right.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings (spoilers ahead): language; big hater behavior towards Reader; attempted breakup; angst; brief mentions of past bullying [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Tomathy fully in his comforting precious bf era

Numb.

That was the only word that came to mind right now to describe what you felt, staring at your screen with all the hateful vile words that people who didn't even know you were flinging your way. And all because of the man you were dating. And how much you looked like a downgrade compared to his ex.

Then again it really shouldn't have surprised you, considering the turn your life had taken in the last few months. Hell, the last few days. There was really no other way for these nameless faceless spineless people to react when the man you'd started dating was none other than Tom Hiddleston.

And the figuratively ridiculously large shoes you had to fill considering the rising power of said ex…was Taylor Swift's.

You shouldn't have gone online. Checked Twitter. Checked anything, really. They rarely if ever had anything good to say, it was a special kind of stupid and naive for you to think that someway somehow you and your relationship were going to be the exception to the vitriolic rule.

Now here you were, screechy voices filling your mind, spitting out the words that your eyes scanned when you opened the cesspool of a sight.

Nothing special

Unremarkable

Fucking stab my eyes out with a rusty fork ugly

To be completely fair, you'd seen worse when you were still in school, every day inundated with the mocking words that sociopaths with hormones on overdrive wielded recklessly like a goddamn balisong without care that the person on the receiving end was actually a person. And if that was the shitshow you experienced from people brave enough to sign those sentiments with their name and say it to your face with chests fully puffed out, then the bravery of these people when they were all snuggled up under the protective cover of anonymity really shouldn't have shocked you.

Finding out who they were behind the screen and dealing out retribution on your own terms would have been a simple enough task. After all, you'd done it before, and even with the current advancements in technology and the tighter security protocols centered around protecting user data, you still managed to keep a few tricks in your bag that you could whip out if the need ever arose.

There was just one thing that stopped you from doing just that. A part of you agreed with the vicious comments. It was easy enough to ignore when people in school were just making hateful pages about how you sucked and how no one would ever genuinely like you. Or when they made pages pretending to be you so that they could dole out their paltry attempts at trying to ruin what little reputation you had at the time.

When you dealt with them on that comparatively smaller scale, it became easy to numb yourself to their words, drown them out until they were just white noise in the background, keeping you focused on the path you laid out for yourself rather than distracting you. It gave you a drive to work harder and better so that you could get as far away from them as possible.

On this scale, the background noise was so strong, so loud and overwhelming that every step you took to fight it seemed to take every ounce of your strength. It felt like there was no way out. You couldn't just hunker down and work hard so that you could get away from it all this time. And you couldn't exactly ignore them, either.

How could you? When they were voicing with pinpoint accuracy every insecurity that plagued you ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend a few days ago. Ever since your first night with him months ago.

So is this some sort of Make-A-Wish thing? That's it, right? She's on her last few months and she wanted to live them in delusion?

Fifty bucks says Tom's active on Raya right now. Quick someone send me an invite link I wanna shoot my shot. Tommy don't worry baby I'll save you from whatever the fuck mistake you got yourself into.

How the fuck do you go from Taylor Swift to that?

The most prevalent remarks in the last few hours had to do with a sighting of you sitting on a park bench, working on creating a wardrobe piece for an upcoming show that, if all went well, would start filming in a few years. The book author and the prospective showrunner got in contact with you after a glowing recommendation from Taika, and they talked about struggling to find the perfect scarf that would serve as one of the series' focal points.

After a few discussions and so many skeins of yarn that there was now an oversized tote bag in your hotel room overflowing with various shades of dark teal and peacock blue, you started crocheting a sample size of the pattern to show the author later on in the afternoon before you went to meet Tom for dinner. And that was how you were spotted this morning, sitting quietly on the bench, eyes on your project while your boyfriend was taking Bobby for a walk.

And for some reason the internet was up in arms over that,

Are you really fucking telling me this boring ass bitch that's giving old lady crocheting a goddamn scarf is fucking riding the God of Mischief every day? Nuh uh nope I don't believe that. Our Tommy deserves someone fun, and actually fucking pays attention to him and not a ball of yarn. Our baby deserves so much better than this.

You stared at the desk in front of you, your sample scarf to the left, and your laptop at the center, the screen now black from inactivity. You couldn't bother to move to check the time; your reminder would ring when your call would start. All you could bring yourself to do was remain exactly as you were, knees drawn to your chest with your arms around your legs, shaking and doing your damnedest not to break out into sobs over the knowledge of what you were about to do as soon as the door opened.

It was a good run, you told yourself. More than I deserved.

The sound of the front door opening jolted you back to reality, the voices finally dying down somewhat. Unfortunately, hearing Tom's voice started the voices right back up again.

"Y/N, darling, have you finished with your call? I was hoping we could go out tonight for dinner and--" His words stopped abruptly once he got to his study, seeing you in the position you'd been in for the last few hours, and immediately rushed to your side, crouching in front of you and taking your hands in his. "What's wrong, goddess?"

"I uhh…I have to go back to Los Angeles. I'm gonna see if I can make the next flight back." You didn't dare meet his eyes, still trying to hold back any tears.

He let out a breath, sounding almost relieved before he pressed a kiss to your hands. "That shouldn't be much of a problem, I can pack a bag and we can be on the next flight out--"

"No," you cut him off, wincing at your tone. "I'm going alone. There's no need for you to go with me, I'm sure you have some other things to do here. Better things."

There was a slight tremor in his hand as he cupped your face, gently turning your head to look at him. He took a shuddering breath seeing the tears swimming in your eyes. "What's happening right now, sweetheart? Please. I don't understand what could have brought this on, we had a lovely morning--"

"I thought I could do this," you choked out, finding it difficult to form coherent words without starting to blubber. "I thought I could drown the voices out, not let them get to me but…they're too loud. They're ruthless and vile and they have megaphones and they're right." You shook your head to turn away from him, burying your face between your knees, the all too familiar feeling of shame flooding your system, shrouding over you like an overly weighted blanket. "I'm not strong enough to do this with you. And you deserve someone better than me."

You took your laptop off of Standby, your screen illuminating and showing him the harsh words that had been haunting you since you stupidly decided to check the internet just minutes after he left the house. He began to visibly tense as his eyes scanned the pages seeing all the hateful things literal strangers had to say about your relationship.

"Look we gave it a shot," you tried to tell him, making a motion to get out of the chair which made him put his hands on the armrests, effectively keeping you in place. "But I think it's time to call it. I'm not good for you, and you deserve someone--"

"No." His tone was low and resolute, hands staying firmly on the chair, refusing to let you go anywhere. From a certain perspective, it was a smart enough move, considering that if he let you go right now, you'd probably sprint out the door in the name of doing what you thought would be best for him. Even if it meant ripping your own heart out in the process. "This can't be over already, we've only just begun. The time I've had with you has been extraordinary and I know that if we keep going, it'll get even better. You've made me so happy and--"

"You'll find someone that makes you happier," you dumbly shot back, the sentiment hitting you so hard that the tears finally began to fall. Even the thought of him potentially moving on so quickly after this already had you ready to sob. "Someone stronger. Someone that can handle all of this or hell someone they'll actually like--"

"Those people don't care for my happiness," he said in a rush, tears filling his eyes as well. "No matter what I do, there's always going to be someone hateful that has something to say, and they'll always think they're right. It's so clear that they don't give a damn about what actually makes me happy because if they did, they wouldn't be saying these disgusting lies about you, trying to get into your head."

There was a desperation in his tone that tore at your heart; no part of you wanted to do this. But seeing every single insecurity that you'd had ever since you said yes to being his girlfriend, yes to going to London with him for a few weeks, and generally just yes to spending the next few however months of your life with him, all laid out in print echoed by so many others? You knew he deserved better than this, better than someone that would ultimately have to be hidden away so that these people would stop coming for his throat for his 'poor choices'.

And when you knew that what would be best for the man you ached to give your heart to was to actually tuck your heart away and run, how selfish would it be for you to do the opposite?

The feel of his hands framing your face brought you back to your thoughts, the frantic pleading look on his face robbing you of your breath. "Do you want to leave, Y/N?" You wanted to scream No of course I don't, I want to stay with you. But you found yourself unable to form words. All you could do was shake your head as more tears fell from your eyes.

He pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into his arms the second you crossed your hands behind his neck and lifting you out of your seat. He didn't break the kiss until he'd carried you to his bedroom, setting you down on the edge of the bed. Then he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before sinking to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his.

"Then don't leave. Stay with me. We'll stay in and stay away from prying eyes so nobody gets to say anything about you, we'll--"

"You shouldn't have to make adjustments in your life for the sake of making me comfortable," you argued. "You should be with someone that can face all of this, not cower in a corner licking her wounds needing to be protected if she so much as gets seen stepping out of your house like some tiny helpless baby animal. You deserve to be with someone you can share everything with, without the worry of people shooting you down just because I'm not pretty enough or tall enough for them. You can have anything and everything you want with a snap of your fingers, I'm sure it won't be that hard to find someone that--"

Tom stopped you from letting out another word, holding you by the back of your head and pulling you to him for a desperate kiss. "I don't want anyone else, I want you. I don't give a fuck what anyone else wants to think about how I choose to spend my life and who I choose to share it with, because I know better. You're enough, you're more than enough. And if a few precautions and adjustments have to be made to make sure they can't get to you, then I'm more than happy to do all that and more.

"Our first night together I told you I just want you. As you are. That I want to make you happy." He rose from his knees, pressing a kiss to your cheek and working his way to your ear. "That I want to satisfy you. Do you remember?" You could only nod, trying and failing not to melt against him as he kissed below your ear. "I'm going to add that list of wants now. I want to make sure you feel safe, with every means I have at my disposal."

He guided you down until your back was flat on the mattress, kissing down your neck as he did so, his lips trailing a path down to just over your heart. You found it near impossible to breathe, finding yourself overwhelmed with how gentle and tender he was handling you.

"I want to love you," he said, meeting your eyes with a look that you could only describe as surrender. "I know you're not ready to hear it yet, but this can't wait anymore. You need to hear it. You need to know that the only way for me to actually have everything that I want is if I get to share everything I have with you. I need you to know that your leaving would rip my heart out." He made his way back up, stopping when your faces were mere inches apart. "I need you to know who you'd be leaving." He brushed his lips across yours in a featherlight kiss. "You would be leaving a man so completely, so desperately in love with you."

You tried to speak, but all you could manage was inaudibly mouthing his name, the sentiment you tried to stomp down just a little over a week ago fighting its way back up to the surface. Practically shouting from the back of your throat.

"I love you," he breathed out. "Please, sweetheart. Don't do this. Don't leave. Whatever you want, whatever you need so that we can make this work, we'll find our way through this together just please…I'm begging you don't tell me that what you want is to rid yourself of me--"

"That's the last thing I want," you managed to choke out, your eyes stinging with even more tears. You swallowed the lump in your throat, mustering every ounce of strength you had left to finally say the sentiment you prematurely blurted out when he first popped up at your house. "I love you, too."

You woke up the next morning the same way you'd been ever since you and Tom first got together, his arm wrapped around you, the butterflies fluttering violently in your stomach from how he held your body against his without a stitch of clothing between you two, along with the tender kisses he peppered along your shoulder. It was a routine you'd not only found yourself getting comfortable with, but you were looking forward to it whenever you felt yourself rousing from sleep.

And that part scared the living daylights out of you.

Relationships? Routines? Your mind wandering to that place that you said you never dared think about in the context of being in any kind of relationship again, because the last time you did, the rug got pulled out from under you and threw your life and the future you envisioned into a blender?

You swore to yourself that day all those years ago that you were never going to let yourself get this comfortable. That you would always have your safety measures in place so that you never had to worry about having to scramble your way back up to your feet without any sense of direction.

And you did. You had your measures. You had your walls up. You put your heart under lock and key and said you'd never give it to someone again. Yet here you were, basically opening the chest and telling Tom that it was right there for the taking.

A chest you couldn't close again even if you tried. Even if you wanted to.

The feel of his lips pressing a kiss between your neck and shoulder had you letting out a tiny whimper, making him smile and hum against your skin. "Good morning, goddess."

You were growing concerningly comfortable with that, too.

He moved you until you were lying with your back flat on the mattress, brushing his nose across yours as he gave you a contented smile. "I love you."

You couldn't help the smile that stretched across your own face hearing the words. "Hmm…careful, you keep talking like that I might get used to it."

He laid his lips on yours, giving you a tender kiss as he gently ran his hand down the side of your body before stopping at your hip, his thumb stroking your skin. "I want you to get used to it, because I'll be saying it a lot from now on." His lips traced a line down to the base of your throat. "I love you," he murmured against your skin repeatedly as he kissed along your collarbone.

"I love you, too," you whimpered as he kissed his way down to your stomach, his shaky exhale warming your skin even more. You placed your hand on his shoulder, leading him to refocus his attention to kissing his way up your arm. "I really stepped on the ledge yesterday…" you trailed off, struggling to take a deep breath as you tried to find the words, ultimately settling on the simplest ones. You weren't likely to find better words anyways. "Thank you for talking me off of it."

He took his time kissing his way back up to your lips, never breaking eye contact. "Always, my love." The new endearment, paired with the way he tenderly kissed your lips, had your head spinning. "I'm going out to get us some breakfast. I'll be back in an hour. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

Those words had you stirring, making a motion to sit up on the bed. "What? No, you don't need to do that, you'll get papped. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed, I'll do it."

"If you go out, they'll photograph you, too," he argued. "Pictures of us are still fresh on their minds, which means these vultures are still very much on the lookout for you out and about, waiting to take pictures in hopes of selling them to the sleaziest gossip sites. Give it a week, maybe two, and they'll refocus their attention on someone else. Them and the internet."

You slumped back into the bed with a soft thud, surrendering to the fact that unfortunately, the logic made sense. You needed a good few days to let your face and those photos fade into relative irrelevancy. "You probably need your team to spin some story on why we were seen together, too," you sighed, the discomfort of having to let the wheels turn in your head before you've even had a bite of food or a sip of coffee starting to make you skittish. "I mean, the saying goes that we can't put the genie back in the bottle, but what if it isn't fully out yet? We still have a chance to…I don't know, mitigate the situation?"

Tom rested his forehead against yours, letting out a deep sigh as he laid back down on the bed as well, pulling you into his arms so that your head rested on his chest. "One day it won't be this toxic."

His words had you giggling, looking up at him and pressing a kiss to his chin. "It's adorable that you think that, but no. But one day maybe the voices of those who would genuinely just be happy for you would be louder than these snakes in the pit with their megaphones. And maybe one day I'll be strong enough to not give a fuck about any of it."

He tightened his hold on you, arms snaking around your body in an embrace that had you falling even more into that dangerous place of way too damn comfortable. "Until then I'm going to do what I can to keep you safe. It'll only be a few weeks at most. Maybe less if we're lucky and someone causes a scandal." He pressed numerous soft kisses to the tip of your nose, breaking out into a smile when his attentions caused you to let out a soft giggle. "For now, I get to keep you in the house. All to myself." His smile turned into a mischievous grin as he rolled you on to your back, rasping the next words, "Like my own beautiful brilliant little captive."

"A very willing captive," you shot back, once again going breathless when he started kissing you all over your neck and chest. "Be careful out there? Don't let them get a reaction out of you, no matter what they ask. Or what they say about me."

"I will," he mumbled, humming against your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses along the side of your body, nipping at your waist before pulling away. He made his way to his closet, shooting a playful knowing glance at you when he saw how you propped yourself up on your elbows to enjoy the view. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he chuckled, throwing on his usual running gear of a black t-shirt with the Legendary logo and black shorts that were definitely a size too small with how the garment hugged and accentuated his hips and upper thighs. Not to mention how those shorts made it all too obvious that your boyfriend happily and proudly chooses neither when it came to the age-old debate of boxers or briefs.

He walked back toward the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning over you to capture your lips in a heated kiss, as if it had been weeks since he'd done it last rather than mere minutes. His hand freely roamed your side, lightly grasping at your hips while he slowly laid you back down flat on the bed. Once he had, he broke the kiss to press his lips to the tip of your nose, then to your forehead.

"I'll wake you when I'm back home. Promise me you won't check on those pages again. None of them deserve our time, or our emotions. I love you, goddess."

"I promise. I love you, too."

A/N: Welcome to the second part of the 'said it first' arc! This would probably be the angstiest moment in their entire relationship and precious bf meow meow really answered her "I'm leaving" with "No ur not I love u 🥺" and we love him for it your honor

Three more parts to this arc and hopefully I can pull myself out of playing my lil games long enough to actually get to writing any of the pieces in my rotation 😅🫡

Here's a gif for everyone who reads 'til the end of the post…this be what the blorbos were like in that last scene:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

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hayakawalove · 6 months ago

Text

Wisteria and Ciabatta (Part Two)

Part One

Summary: Your and Suguru's relationship begins to bloom.

A/N: I love this series more than I thought I would. Comments always appreciated!

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Hand Job, Praise, Virginity, Loss of Virginity, Minor Breeding Kink, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader W/C: 7,236

Credit to Benkeibear for the banner

The fresh scent of grass carries over to Suguru, making his fingers curl. There was a soft breeze caressing his face, tempting him to sleep. He would have let it, if not for the sound of your voice filling his ears.

“She can just be so rude sometimes, don’t you think?”

You’re talking about your neighbor, the one that constantly sneers at you when you walk past her house.

Suguru’s noticed that you occasionally talk about the drama occurring in your town, and he would be a liar if he said he didn’t like it. It made him feel like you were comfortable around him.

“I do.” Suguru responds.

The sky is dark as the two of you lay on your backs, watching the stars shine above you. Suguru’s filled with love as you continue to talk, filling him in on the events of the previous day. You tell him that you took a nap a couple of hours before the two of you met up, and he tells you he sat outside with his neighbor. You’d like her, he thinks. She’s kind in the typical elderly woman way, always asking about if he’s eaten that day and if he needs any money. Suguru knows she doesn’t have any to spare, but the sentiment is special nonetheless.

The night sky shines above you two and Suguru thinks he catches a shooting star from the corner of his eye. He turns his head and realizes it was just you, and somehow he thinks you’re even more beautiful than anything the sky had to offer. You turn your head towards him and grin, your eyes flicking over his face. He gets self conscious sometimes like this. He hopes you never find a single flaw on his face. You certainly don’t have any.

“I missed you.” You say quietly.

Suguru has to remind himself how to breathe.

“We saw each other a couple of days ago.” He reminds you.

Last time the two of you were out here Suguru had brought a heap of carnations, and your eyes lit up just like they always do. No matter how many flowers he brought you, you always managed to leave one for him. “For good luck.” You would tell him. He had a stack of your good luck on his bedside table, the ones on the bottom layer nearly wilting from age. It was hard to want to throw them out. He wondered if you knew how much the tiny gestures meant to him, how they more often than not kept him up at night. He adored replaying the events of your time together.

The two of you stay out for several more hours, trying to soak in the remaining moments of bliss before you’re forced to go your separate ways. Only when your eyes droop with exhaustion does Suguru sit up, leaning over to place a kiss on your lips. To be able to love so openly, so freely, meant the world to him.

When you finally agreed to go home Suguru waited until he saw your bedroom lamp flicker on. He always made sure to be the last one to leave. He would never forgive himself if he parted first and learned something happened to you in his absence.

~~~

Something was wrong.

Suguru knew he was a worrier, it was one of his many faults. There were times when he would be worried for hours only for nothing to be wrong in the end.

That was not the case tonight.

Something was wrong.

He could feel it in his bones, he could smell it in the air.

He arrived two hours ago in your special spot, just like he always did. He tended to arrive before you, not that he ever minded the wait. He would wait years for you, he thought.

He arrived early, like always, and waited.

And waited.

It was dark out now, the stars hung in the sky like a deep ominous omen. The crickets began to chirp and

something

was

wrong.

He didn’t know what to do. Should he look for you? He could feel his feet tingle at the need to find you. You probably didn’t get hurt somewhere. The only option was your house. Suguru didn’t know if you told your father about him. He was willing to risk it to find you, but he wasn’t so sure you would forgive him on the off chance your father hadn’t known. He decides he doesn’t care. Suguru’s staring at the ground, seconds away from walking to your house.

He hears sniffling.

Something was wrong.

The sniffling comes closer, and Suguru thinks it may be coming from all around him. His head whips around until he locates the source.

You.

You break through the bush, walking straight to him. Suguru can see the tears illuminated on your face by the moonlight. You were crying.

Suguru only has a second to mumble your name before you’re crashing into his body, needy hands clawing at his shoulders. He holds you close, soaking in your warmth. Suguru looks down and runs his hands down your body, searching for any obvious injuries. Nothing seemed out of place. You tremble in his hold, sobs tearing from your throat. Suguru’s heard you cry a handful of times, but never like this.

“Sweetheart.” He says, pulling back to peer at your face.

His heart tugs at the sight. Your lips are raw from you biting them, lashes clumped together with tears. He lifts a finger and swipes beneath your eye, but his efforts are in vain. You only cry more.

“My-my dad.” You moan.

Your dad?

Did something happen to your dad?

“What about your dad?” Suguru glides his thumb over your skin in what he hopes is a soothing action.

“My dad, he, he,” you break out into a wail, and Suguru thinks he hears his heart break. “He sold me off.”

What?

“He sold you off?” Suguru repeats.

He can tell you’re trying to compose yourself. You take deep breaths, wiping your face, only succeeding in smearing the tears around.

“He’s marrying me off. Said it will bring in extra cash that our family needs.”

Suguru swears the forest instantly turns quiet. His eyes feel dry as he stares down at you, waiting for a punchline. It was a joke, right?

He knew you weren’t joking, no matter how badly he wanted it to be true.

“He wants to marry you to someone? For money?”

Logical. Think logical. How can he comfort you in this situation? He needs to do something.

“He does!”

“And what do you want?” He asks.

Anything you want, he’d get it for you. It doesn’t matter how far he has to scour the earth, he would do anything.

“You.” You look up at him with your heartbroken eyes, fists balled up against his chest.

You want him?

Really, it shouldn’t be a surprise. You’ve been seeing each other for months, but hearing you say that one word still felt earth shattering.

He begins to think. You don’t want to get married to the man your father picked. You want Suguru instead.

What if you just left with him?

He knows it's irrational, he really does. It doesn’t change the fact that it makes his heart twist.

What if he just whisked you away, brought you back to his hometown where he could make you happy.

“Come with me.” He finds himself saying, even though his brain is begging him to be more rational.

“What?” Your bottom lip trembles as you gaze at him.

“Come with me.” He says again. “I can take you away from here.”

He think you might deny him. It would be the smart thing to do. But you don’t. Your eyes widen before you look to the ground, a million thoughts crossing your head.

“Okay.” You say.

His heart skips a beat at your agreement. Yes. Yes.

“I can come back tomorrow with a horse, just bring everything you want and sneak out.”

You aren’t crying anymore, a wave of relief washing over Suguru. He had to say something in the moment to change the situation. He knew he wouldn’t regret it, but would you?

“Same time tomorrow?” You ask.

“Same time tomorrow.” He repeats back.

~~~

Suguru borrowed a horse from one of his neighbors, a friendly man who bred them. Suguru was willing to pay, but the man wouldn’t have it. “Take her for as long as you need!” He told Suguru.

Suguru tried not to feel bad. He would only be needing it for the night.

His stomach is in knots as he rides to the forest, scenarios playing through his head. What if you changed your mind? What if you didn’t show?

Suguru pats the horse as he hops off, eyes scanning the trees. You weren’t here yet. He begins to count each heartbeat. On the 300th beat, he sees the bushes rustling.

It’s you.

You’re running to him with a sack tied to your back, one that’s entirely too light in Suguru’s opinion. Where was all your stuff? He knew you weren’t rich by any means, but he expected more. No matter. He’ll buy you everything you could wish for.

He says your name softy, letting the syllables float over to you. Your eyes are wide, with a nervous grin on your face.

“I’m sorry it took me so long! I was waiting for him to go to sleep.” You’re whispering as if raising your voice would cause a witch hunt for you.

“It’s okay.” Suguru takes your cheek in his hand.

He admires your eyes shining under the moonlight before he presses his lips against yours. You were always so warm. Suguru suppresses a shudder as he pulls away. He refrains asking if the sack contained everything you were bringing.

“Are you ready?” He questions.

“Yes.” You answer.

This was it. All you had to do was sneak through the forest, travel to his house and everything would be okay.

Suguru assists you in hopping up on the horse. It takes several tries, embarrassment raining down on your skin. He doesn’t laugh, not even once. He could never laugh at you. Once you get on successfully, Suguru jumps up. It only takes him one try, his toned chest pressing into your back.

Suguru’s breath graces your cheek and he grins at the way goosebumps break out over your skin. You were so perfect, he had a hard time believing you were real. He takes hold of the reins with one hand, and uses his other to keep a firm grasp on your waist.

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard a horse be so loud before. The hooves clacking along the dirt path ring out, tearing through the silence of the night. He finds himself holding his breath as the horse sets off, his home the destination.

Neither of you talk the entire time. It’s as if you’re waiting for it to be over, not wanting to somehow ruin the moment. Halfway through the ride, Suguru feels your body twitch with chills. The night air was cold and unforgiving as it wraps around you. He was feeling guilty for not being able to provide more warmth. You’d be home soon. To your new home.

Suguru tugs the reins until the horse stops outside his house. He briefly glances to look at you, noticing the way you admire the structure. He feels a brief burst of pride at the way your lip twitches. He hoped you would like the inside just as much.

Suguru throws his leg to the other side, jumping down. He raises a hand up which you take, clumsily jumping off the horse. Suguru holds your hand, he doesn’t want to let go of you for even a second, as he goes to his neighbors house, putting the horse back in her stable.

His old wooden front door creaks as Suguru pushes the handle. He’s been through this door many times before, but somehow this feels like the first time. He gets a renewed sense of energy as his eyes glance across his house. Everything was right where he put it several hours ago. He made sure to clean it extra well before setting off to retrieve you. He couldn't bear the thought of you coming home to a messy house. Suguru wasn't messy in any sort of the word, even so he still made sure to clean everything extra well.

He steps inside, looking over his shoulder as he pulls you along. Your eyes are flicking from one place to the next, as if you can’t decide what to settle your sights on. How cute.

“I'm just going to light more candles for us, stay right here.”

He squeezes your hand once before finally letting go. He’s able to locate the extra candles with relative ease, lighting them up to illuminate the house in a soft yellow hue.

You nearly stop his heart, that’s how beautiful you are. He sets the candles down before stepping next to you.

He feels better now that the two of you are home, like he can finally breathe.

“What do you think?”

He thinks you like it, but there’s a part of him worrying that you’d rather be back to your fathers house.

“It’s beautiful, Suguru.” You take your eyes off your surroundings and relax them on him.

He kisses you before stepping back. Your lips feel like satin against his, and he can’t believe that he’ll get to feel them whenever he wants to now.

“Let me show you around.”

Suguru starts with the kitchen, as he thinks it's what the house is really built around. There’s a large counter in the middle that’s nearly stained with flour. There’s a faint bread smell hanging in the air, and he hopes you’ll get used to it. Maybe it was too strong. Suguru could hardly tell, it was normal for him. As he looks across the kitchen it dawns on him that this is where he’ll be making all your future meals, the table in front of him is the same table you’ll be sat at each day as you eat.

He watches as your eyes flick from every corner of the kitchen. He can tell you're glancing at his collection of ingredients, things that weren’t necessarily common in this region. He wonders if you’ve even seen some of them before. He didn’t think you never cooked, but he was aware of his near borderline obsession. Most of the ingredients were things he picked up along his travels, accepting it as payment instead of cash. It worked out better for him that way anyway.

Suguru shows you every other part of the house, leaving only two places remaining. The garden and his bedroom. It’s a bit cold out, so he doesn’t want to give you a full tour of the garden, deciding it would be best to wait until the sun was shining. You take a quick peak through the window where your eyebrows fly up. He’s watching you in amusement, a soft grin on his face.

“That’s incredible, Suguru.”

“Thank you, I’m quite proud of it.”

“Who taught you to garden?”

You pull your gaze away from the window pane to look back at Suguru. He stares into your eyes before glancing at your lips, then back up again.

“My mother, she had a small garden. I learned most things myself though, but she started my love for it.”

His skin instantly creates goosebumps when your hand brushes his arm, holding it close to your body. He thinks it's meant to be a form of comfort, and that makes his head dizzy.

“Only one room left.” He squeezes your hand before guiding you towards his, your, bedroom.

It isn’t anything to write home about. There’s a decently sized bed in the middle of the room. It’s mostly empty save for a few pieces of furniture that stored his belongings.

“I can sleep on the floor if you’d prefer, and we can figure out something more long term tomorrow.” Suguru says and turns towards you.

He didn’t really want to sleep apart from you, but he would understand it if you needed your space. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, the idea of that happening made him nearly shudder.

“Why would I prefer that?” You question, a teasing smile on your lips.

You reach up to tug him down, pressing your mouth against his. The kiss is short and sweet, and you pull away to set your bag down.

It’s a bit late for a bath, but the two of you could take one in the morning. Thoughts of your bare skin cross his mind and Suguru has to shake his head clear of it.

“I’m spent, can we lay down?” You’re inching to the bed as you speak.

“Of course.” Suguru replies and follows after you.

The two of you slide onto the bed from either side, it was so smooth it almost appeared like the two of you had been doing it for years.

He can feel the heat of your body radiating next to him. He feels lucky to be able to sleep beside you. You’re turned over on your pillow, facing him. He’s dreamed of this scenario many times, imagining what your figure would look like pressed into his sheets.

“Thank you.” You reach up and place your palm on his cheek.

Suguru allows his lids to flutter shut, indulging in the feeling of your soft skin against his. Just this once. Let him indulge just this once.

“What’re you thanking me for?”

And Suguru’s being honest when he says that. He did take you away from an awful situation, but he almost felt guilty for it. He wanted you here just as much as you wanted to leave.

“For loving me.”

Suguru has to bite the inside of his cheek at your words. Oh, you darling girl. He would make it so that you would never have to thank him for that again.

He places a kiss against your lips, feeling a flood of relief at your reciprocation. Your hand raises up as you dig your fingers through his hair, making him sigh in pleasure. You take the opportunity to slide your tongue along his bottom lip, much to his surprise. It wasn’t that you had never kissed like this before, you had on occasion. In the sanctity the forest provided you, the large trees gracing you some semblance of privacy. Suguru was just surprised you wanted to kiss now. Weren’t you tired?

Early on in your relationship he learned he could never say no to you.

He parts his lips more, allowing your tongue to slither inside.

His tongue brushes against yours, making you groan. Suguru’s brows furrow at the sound, filthy thoughts seeping into his brain.

It was only then that he realizes the gravity of the situation.

You were kissing in his bed, the session only getting more erotic as it goes on.

You pull away once you feel his tongue falter, heavy pants slipping past your lips.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?”

Your hands slide down his chest where you linger, fingertips attempting to stroke his lean stomach.

“I do.” You sound positive in your response.

It only takes Suguru one more glance towards you before he feels his resolve crumble. His lips are on yours in an instant, his tongue darting out to stroke against yours. He settles his hand on your hip, pulling you closer towards him.

His mind is racing a million miles a minute, planning out how he wanted to go about this. He had been intimate before, though it was long ago. He couldn't even remember what it felt like, not that he wanted to. He only wants to remember the feel of your body beneath him.

Your hips wiggle in his grasp, desperate for something you were unaware of. Suguru slides you on your back as he crawls on top, large frame overshadowing yours. The kiss doesn’t break as he switches positions.

He pulls back to push his lips against your throat, his stomach clenching at the taste of your sweet skin. You tilt your head back, allowing him more room. His tongue traces your flesh before his lips latch onto you, his teeth grazing you. You sound helpless below him, whimpers falling from your lips as you twist and turn beneath him.

Suguru trails a hand up your side, fingers buzzing at the prospect of being able to touch you. He slides his hand underneath your shirt, pausing as you gasp out. Did he do something wrong? His eyes flick to you where he notices your brows knit together in want.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You murmur a no, your chest rising and falling heavily. Suguru lets his hand glide across the planes of your stomach, traveling up until he feels the stiff section of your ribs. Your eyes are glazed over as you watch Suguru, all the attention nearly making him falter. He presses his lips against yours as his hands finally stop at your breasts, and Suguru lets out a groan. Your tongue slides past his, his fingers stopping on your nipple.

You moan at the way his finger pads graze against you. Suguru pulls away to watch your face pinch, obviously enjoying it. He lifts up your shirt, staring at your chest. He found it hard to believe that something so perfect could have been created.

He takes two fingers to pinch your nipple, grinning at the moan you release. He does it once more, albeit harder the second time around. The hair on the back of his neck stands as your moans course through his veins like a drug.

He leans down to kiss your skin, begging himself to take it easy. His hands glide down to grab your underwear. There was a small wet patch forming in the middle, Suguru notices.

Were you as desperate for this as he was?

Suguru slowly slides them down, not glancing until you let your legs part yourself. When Suguru first met you, he swore he had never see anything more beautiful. He stands by that statement even today. But if you asked Suguru what the second most beautiful thing was, he now had an answer.

Your pussy drips below him, the sheen of the slick shining in the low light of your bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you're…” Suguru’s voice is not his own as he speaks.

Something else entirely had taken hold of him, willing him to give into his every desire. His finger lifts until it's brushing your core, strings of your slick clinging to him. Suguru watches as it drips from his finger, butterflies in his stomach.

You're embarrassed if Suguru had to guess. Your face is turned sideways as you nibble your bottom lip. He wished you knew there was no need to be embarrassed. He would never make fun of you, he would never even dream of it.

“Do you touch yourself?” He asks.

The near shame darkening your expression was telling Suguru everything he needed to know. There was not a doubt in his mind that another man hadn’t touched you. But he was beginning to think your own fingers hadn't explored your body either.

That was okay.

He would make up for everything.

He waits till you're able to speak. His face is relaxed as he listens.

“No…” you begin, your fingers pulling each other. “I have but, it never really felt any good.”

Suguru bites back a coo, not wanting to shame you any further. He could hardly believe it. He was going to afford you your very first orgasm, the mere prospect making him feel faint. He drags his finger back down, grazing against your slit with his knuckle. You release a shiver as your eyes flick down to look at what he’s doing.

“I’m going to start slow, let me know if you want to stop.”

Suguru turns his hand around to run his middle finger through you, collecting the slick that had gathered. He drags it up to your needy clit before tracing it once, twice, his feline eyes keeping track of your expressions.

You’re sitting up on your elbows, captivated by the way his much longer fingers worked you. He thinks it's adorable, really. The way you’re exposing yourself to him. It’s vulnerable, and he loves you all the more for it.

“How does that feel?”

Your mouth opens as if you want to speak, and your tongue wets your bottom lip. His eyes linger on the action, but he doesn’t think about it for too long.

“Feels,” he presses harder which makes you whimper. “G-Good.”

Suguru hums and looks back down toward his hand, circling your clit with two fingers. You’re gleaming in the low light of his bedroom, and his throat starts to tingle at the thought of what you might taste like.

He takes note when your chest starts to swell faster, increasing the speed of his fingers. Your skin is silky soft beneath him and it reminds him of a flower petal. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to tend to his garden the same way.

“Suguru, it-“ you stutter.

“Yes, baby?” He’s calm in the way he responds, calm in the way he does anything with you.

He must have done something right, as you finally gift him with a moan. His eyes squint at the noise, his blood was starting to heat beneath his skin.

Oh, darling. You sound so sweet.

He corrects the position of his hand, moving so he can rub your clit with his thumb. He’s able to apply more pressure this way, you notice as your head drops back, eyes fluttering closed.

You’re moaning more freely now, and he hopes the sound of it becomes ingrained in the walls of his house. He could listen to it forever, if you let him.

You’re getting closer, Suguru feels it. He couldn't remember each tiny detail about being intimate with a woman, but he did remember what it felt like when they were about to cum. It was in the small things.

The way you’re restless beneath him, body leaning in while also backing away from the feel of his finger tips.

The way your legs tried to shut.

The way your pussy wept.

Suguru takes his thumb away and watches with a haughty smile at the way your face drops. He thought it was funny. You didn’t even know what you were expecting to happen, but you knew he took whatever it was away from you.

“Will you let me taste you?” He asks.

It’s more of a formality. He knows you’ll let him taste you. He can tell by the weight of your lids and how your legs spread wider.

“Why would you want to do that?” You ask.

“Entertain me for a moment.”

He talks as he scoots down, his lips close enough to your folds he almost starts to salivate.

Suguru pokes his tongue out, stroking it against your clit.

Honeysuckle.

That’s what you reminded him of.

You’re sweeter than the pale yellow flower by miles. Your taste fills his mouth as he dives in more. He could get drunk off this. Your face is contorted as you watch the way his lips wrap around you. He’s building you up fast, the flick of his tongue almost too much for you.

He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something so bad in his entire life. Suguru pulls back to look at your pussy before leaning back in, grazing his tongue up again.

Your moans are much louder now, your gaze set on him. He refuses to look away for even a moment. He wants to watch the second you cum for him.

With a load moan you cum and he nearly faints. Suguru’s quick to lick you up, swallowing each drip of your cum.

“Suguru, what was-“ you try to ask, your voice hoarse.

He’s crawling back up, a grin on his face as you notice the way his mouth has a sheen. He wants to tell you how perfect you are, how perfect you taste, sound, feel.

It seems you’re distracted, though.

He’s sitting on his heels, looking down at you. Your eyes are focused not on his face, but on something else entirely.

When he looks down he notices the large bulge forming in his slacks. He almost feels shame for how quickly his body reacted to you, but he has to be the bigger person of you two. This was all new to you.

He can tell you want to see more, which he has no problem with. Suguru’s motions are firm as he drags his clothes off, revealing each part of his skin. You had known Suguru well, but there were parts of him even you hadn’t seen.

Your gaze widens as you see his cock for the first time. Suguru’s spine tingles at your expression, but he tries to remain still.

He feels his anxiety begin to creep in the longer you don’t say anything. He would put his clothes on and lay down with you if that’s what you wanted, he was fine with it. Even though he was dying to feel you even more.

“Can I…touch it?” Your voice is small but determined.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You sit up, scooching close to him until you’re sitting on your knees, mirroring him. He watches as you reach a hand out, squeezing both sides of his cock softly before dragging your finger down. Suguru sighs, his fingers itching with the need to touch you more.

How long had it been since he came? Ages, it felt like. With the way your fingers felt against him, he was positive he wouldn’t last long at all.

Your fingers pause once you notice a bead of precum begin to pour from his tip. He wonders what’s going through your head as you swipe at it, sliding it down his cock.

Patience is a virtue. A virtue Suguru has copious amounts of. But it's becoming increasingly difficult to stay still under your watchful gaze.

“I’m ready.” You say, taking your eyes from his cock to look up at him.

He was too. Beyond ready.

He slides his hands down your body until he’s taking off the last parts of your clothes. Suguru places a soft kiss on your lips before he’s aiding you in laying back down. You’re beautiful like this. You’re always beautiful, but he finds a new appreciation for you with the way you appear below him.

Suguru hovers over you, trying to appear as gentle as possible. He is gentle, he likes to think. But he can only imagine how daunting it is to have a 6 foot plus man above you.

“I’ll go slow.” He swears, kissing your lips.

You look nervous but eager below him, your legs spread out to accommodate his lean frame. He decides to warm you up first.

Suguru glides his middle finger down your folds, marveling at the shiver you let out. He prods at your hole before easing his finger inside, his lashes fluttering at the noise you make. Your pussy is warm and tight around him, he can only imagine what it will feel like around his cock.

“How’s that?” He asks.

You were such a precious thing.

You’re nibbling on your bottom lip as you watch him. You look up into his eyes before quickly glancing away. Once upon a time you told him his gaze was overwhelming, he thought it was funny at the time but he was beginning to understand what you meant.

Suguru eases his finger out before dipping it back in. He pokes around until he finds the spot he’d been searching for. You moan as your eyebrows furrow, and he curls his finger to rub it more.

“Feels so good.” Your skin has goosebumps now, and Suguru feels pride surge through him.

“Yeah?” He asks, sliding a second finger in.

He indulges himself in your whimpering as he keeps a steady pace. He’s surprised he’s still conscious, he isn’t even sure how he’s still breathing.

Your walls part for him much more easily as he keeps pushing his fingers in.

He thinks you’re ready.

Suguru pulls his fingers from you and marvels at the way your cum drips from them. You wouldn’t mind if he indulged himself a bit more, would you?

He pushes the two fingers past his lips, licking them clean. His eyes are rolling back in his head, so he doesn’t see the way you stare at him.

“It can’t taste that good, can it?” You ask.

His eyes flick open and he looks down at you. He cracks a grin before positioning his cock in front of your folds.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He murmurs to you.

Suguru lowers himself so your chests are touching. The way your nipples pebble against his toned abs make his breathing falter. His cock nudges at your entrance and he notices you must be holding your breath.

“Hey, relax. I’m here.” He encourages.

You lick your lip before letting out a shaky breath. That's my girl, he thinks. He presses against you and feels his lip twitch once his tip sinks in. You were so warm and wet. You breathe in sharply, your hands flying up to grip his muscular back.

Good, dig your fingers in me. He tells himself. Leave marks.

Suguru kisses you as he slowly sinks in. He’s going achingly slow. The circulation in his cock feels like it’s stopped with how tight you are. His tongue slips past your lips and glides against yours in an attempt to soothe your nerves. He’s almost there. Your fingers scratch at his skin and the burn makes his heart soar. Once he bottoms out, you tear your lips away from him to moan.

He’s so proud of you.

“You did it.” He praises you, nose nudging at your throat.

“It’s so big, Suguru.”

“I can wait like this.”

It’s hard. His body is begging him to thrust into you, desperately wanting to feel the way your walls will cling to him, sucking him back in. He could never dream of hurting you though, so instead he stays steady, listening to the ragged breathing coming from your chest.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in more. He nearly feels like he’s being swallowed. Your slick is dripping around his cock, sliding down until it stains his sheets. Suguru has to remind himself how to breathe as he waits, his cock needy as it sits inside of you.

You wiggle your hips down a bit, testing the feeling of movement. When it doesn’t hurt, you nudge his chest, silently asking for more.

I love you, I love you, I love you. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. It isn’t just because of this. It’s because of everything you do. If his love for you continues to grow, his heart may burst.

“Ready?” He asks. He prays you can’t hear the way his voice is restrained.

“Yeah,” You sound faraway, eyes hazy.

Suguru pulls out a bit, before slowly pushing himself back in. Once he realizes you aren’t in pain, he rocks his hips a bit more. Your moans are more beautiful than anything he’s ever heard. He was right, your walls wrapped around him tightly, sucking him back in.

Nothing had ever felt this good, he swears it.

Suguru pulls all the way out before thrusting back in. His eyes never leave your face, choosing to memorize the way your lips part and your brows pinch as he fucks you.

You’re panting as his speed increases, his pelvis bumping against yours each time he’s fully englufed in you. He finds it hard to fuck you with how your legs are wrapped around him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re taking me so well.” Suguru says.

“I love you.” You reply, your tone holding weight.

Suguru feels his chest tighten at your confession. It was by no means the first, or even the second time you had said it to each other. It was however, one of the more meaningful times. The only other moment that compared, and was better, was when you first muttered the words. You said them under the canopy of trees, light flecking your face.

“I love you.” Suguru responds.

And he does. He loves you so fucking much.

Suguru’s pace speeds up. One of your hands is gripping the sheets while the other holds onto his back. You’re moaning without a care in the world now. He wants to make it better for you.

He slides his hand between your bodies and locates your clit with relative ease. He rubs against it, panting at the way your pussy clenches around him. Just like he suspected, you get somehow louder.

“More, baby.” He encourages.

His cock rubs against your insides each time he pushes himself in. If he had the option, he would be deep in your walls forever doing this.

“I-I can’t, feels too g-“ your sentence cuts off as you moan again.

Your eyes squeeze shut. Suguru focuses on the way you clench around him, willing himself to last longer. You first, always you first.

“I think I might,” you don’t even know the word for it, but you’re trying to warn him.

“Please baby, please cum for me.”

Suguru’s hips stutter as he fucks you. Just a little longer. His fingers strum against you one more time before you’re cumming, squeezing his cock so hard he feels like he may fall over.

He lets out a shaky moan as you finish, fucking into you several more times. He needs to pull out. An image flashes across his mind of your stomach swelling, and it makes him almost cum immediately. Fuck, he needs to pull out.

Suguru pulls his hips back, biting his cheek at how your pussy looks. He rubs his cock above your body, breathing heavily as he throws his head back. Cum shoots from him, painting your perfect skin below him. He didn’t know what you were doing in terms of contraception, so this was risky enough as is. Maybe in the future you would let him fill you to the brim.

His skin is buzzing as he looks down at you. You’re raidiant underneath him, out of breath as you trace his figure with your eyes.

“That felt so good.” You say, a demure grin on your face as you look at him.

Suguru looks for his discarded shirt on the floor and picks it up to swipe the cum from your skin. He tries not to wince at the waste of it before tossing it aside.

You catch him off guard when you reach up to grab his face. You pull him down to kiss him softly, a new type of tenderness settling in his bones.

“Thank you.” He murmurs against your lips.

“For what?” You chuckle and tug him down to lay beside you.

For running away with him. For letting him worship your body. For loving him.

He squeezes you against him and throws the blanket over the two of you. You nuzzle beside him, wrapping your arms and legs around him.

It doesn’t take long for the gentle pull of sleep to take hold of you both.

~~~

You’ve been here for a week now, and Suguru’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He watches you from the window as you water his flowers, a stain of dirt somehow streaking across your cheek. The week had been nothing short of paradise. He always knew how much he cared for you, but now that you were around him constantly he was forced to face just how much you meant to him. He always knew, but it had never been so glaringly obvious.

He was going to marry you.

If you said yes, that is.

He wills his gaze away to peer down at the counter beneath him. There’s a ring in front of him, one he hopes will fit. The closest thing to a ring at least. There wasn’t a jeweler in town, and he couldn't bear waiting any longer. He fashioned a ring from a daisy, the stem forming a circle large enough to fit your fourth finger. The second he was able, he would travel to town to get you a sizeable gem. Most women in these parts had a simple band, if they had anything at all.

But you weren’t most women.

Suguru peers up and watches as you set the water canister down, wiping your cheek which only accomplishes in smearing the dirt even more. He chuckles to himself before turning around to walk to the bedroom.

“Suguru!” You call out.

The kitchen is empty when you come back inside. Odd, normally he was there making you lunch. You look around to find that he wasn’t anywhere. Must be in the bedroom.

You take off your shoes and pad down the floors, feet aching from standing for so long. Suguru tried to convince you that it was okay if you left the gardening and housework to him, but you wanted to help.

You turn the corner and your eyes settle on your room.

Not here either.

But something else was.

Your eyes narrow as you see something laying on your pillow. When you step closer you realize that it’s a daisy, it’s stem twisted and turned into a circle.

“Huh?”

Heavy feet fall behind you. You pick up the daisy and turn around to find Suguru standing behind you.

“Hey, beautiful.” He says.

“What’s this?”

Suguru swallows his nerves as he forces his breathing to settle. He reaches out to grab the flower from you, turning it around in front of you.

“Daisys mean a lot of things,” he starts. “Innocence, motherhood,” his breath hooks. “New beginnings.”

Your eyes are furrowed as you watch him, unsure of where he’s going with this. Suguru grabs your hand and holds it up, your knuckles facing him.

Don’t be scared, he says to himself like a mantra.

“I knew from the moment my eyes laid on you that you would be my new beginning.” He runs his thumb across your knuckles. “I love you, more than I love all the stars in the sky, more than I love the soil beneath my feet.”

He lowers his lips down to kiss your fingers.

“Will you let me be your new beginning as well?” He says into your skin. “Will you let me marry you?”

When he looks up he feels his heart stop for a moment. There are fresh tears in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lash line. He thinks there must be a rock in your throat as well, because when you try to speak only a stumble of words come out.

“Yes!” He’s able to make out.

He grins and pulls away, sliding the daisy onto your ring finger.

Your arms are attached to him as you hug him with all your might.

“I love you.” He says into your hair.

To new beginnings.

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blindmagdalena · 4 months ago

Note

If A-Train was able to get a redemption arc, I don’t see why Homie couldn’t get one (I know he won’t). It’s just so annoying to me when people say Homie is irredeemable. I mean of all the villains of the show, he actually has a reason to be one based on what Vought did to him as a child and then as an adult. Like duh. What did they think would happen?? A-Train on the other hand, didn’t really have a reason to be a villain. He grew up with a loving family. He just turned out to be an asshole but gets a redemption arc. I just really want justice for Homie but it’ll never happen in canon. Thank goodness for fanfic and all the wonderful work you do!!!

so, i feel like there's a fundamental misunderstanding of the redemption arc here. the real reason Homelander is "irredeemable" is because he doesn't seek redemption. he has neither the moral capacity nor the desire.

redemption arcs aren't about who has the saddest backstory or who's more "justified" in their villainy. they're about people who feel genuine remorse for their actions and make the choice to do better. to atone.

Homelander doesn't believe he's in the wrong. he fully believes that he is justified in everything he does, and everyone he hurts. unless that CORE truth of his character changes, no, he cannot have a redemption arc.

A-Train, on the other end, is a perfect example of a well-executed redemption arc. he was absolutely NOT an asshole for no reason. sure, he wasn't raised in a lab, but his life was still FULL of abuse and exploitation. from the moment he was born, his parents pumped him full of an experimental drug. his father died when he was still a baby, and his mother worked two jobs while his young brother raised him. kids can't raise kids. his situation was tragic. i mean, for god's sake, his powers developed when he was a three year old (!!!!!!!!!!) because he was running away from the bullets of a deadly shooting towards his home.

so from the age of three, he became the breadwinner for his family. he was trained and likely performed in all kinds of ways. there's no way he didn't with how poor his family was. once he was old enough, he got picked up into Vought's programming and continued to endure god knows what kind of abuse from them. we know for a FACT that every child star of Vought ends up miserable and ruined in some way from the shit they're put through.

remember why he fell in love with Popclaw? "Here's someone who isn't afraid to be happy."

that's heartbreaking. he worked his ass off his entire life and didn't even know how to be happy because of it. even when he went to GodU, Brink commented that he was "the most driven kid he trained." because he had no choice! he was the one supporting his family out of poverty.

i'm not saying A-Train is perfect. i'm not even saying he wasn't an asshole. he was! but to claim he had no reason to turn out the way he did isn't fair. he did a lot of shitty things, he turned to drugs when his powers started to fail him, and he accidentally killed a woman because he was blitzed out of his mind on V... doing a drug run for Homelander. he's then forced by Homelander to kill the woman he loves. he did a cowardly, vile thing, and he has expressed nothing but anguish over it ever since.

but like... in the grand scheme of things, was he really that bad? he spirals and struggles. he gets mocked, he tries desperately to find his identity. the fact his brother shames him for not being connected to a community he was unplugged from because he was shunted into fame and exploitation at a young age sucks.

Reggie, that sweet little boy, was failed in every conceivable way and he became a dysfunctional adult that did shitty stuff because of it. now he's gained perspective and he's working to make different choices. i've been hugely invested in his arc because it's GOOD character work.

so while i appreciate and agree with the sentiment and wanting better for Homelander, redemption comes to those who seek it. so far, we have not seen any indication Homelander ever will. maybe he'll pull a Darth Vader moment at the eleventh hour for Ryan's sake, who knows!

either way, on his own merit, A-Train deserves the chance to be and do better.

#the boys meta #a-train #reggie franklin #homelander #homelander meta #the boys #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #the boys spoilers #not really but i guess a lil if you haven't seen any of s4 and don't know he's on this path

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daenysthedreamersblog · 5 months ago

Note

hey if you’re doing requests I have one!

So basically it’s presidential snow, and he has a maid/nanny who tends to his kid(s?) and basically, she’s not openly a rebel, but she obviously doesn’t agree with the capitol // she’s from the districts // and she ends up teaching that to his kids (accidentally?) and well he finds out.

thank youuuuu (don’t use this if u don’t wanna obviously!!)🫶

warnings: MDNI! power imbalance, swearing, non-con, spanking, fingering, m masturbation

You weren't even sure how you ended up here, sitting on a plush carpeted floor watching over two blonde headed children that weren't yours playing with gaudy toys. You had been poor, lived in your too-small home with your too-large family out in the districts...and now you were in an isolated mansion.

It wasn't fair really that they had all of this while everyone else was made to suffer and starve and fend for themselves, fight to the death in that archaic arena.

So, when the opportunity came along to help out your family in exchange for...well you, you took it in a heart beat even though it meant you had to reside here, and raise his children. It didn't matter how you felt, or how scared you had been at first to leave home, your family was better off in this arrangement even if sometimes it made your skin crawl in annoyance at this rigged system.

You tried your best, but it wasn't easy hiding your disdain for everything around you. It came in whispered comments, or unwanted facial expressions, or on your worst days blatant statements about it all. They children would just glance at you recognizing the shift in mood. The children were young, they couldn't possibly understand.

Or so you thought.

"Daddy!" They ran to the door at your back hugging his legs as you climbed to your feet. You took him in, his tall frame, the neat suit he had that hugged his figure too well. You wished he was ugly, you wished the horrible insides he had would reflect outwardly. It would make it easier to not look at him so much despite knowing the frigid soul he contained.

He patted their heads then his eyes snapped to you, "I just need to borrow you for a minute." Your palms sweat as you nod following him out of the room and towards his home office. He opens the door for you letting you lead the way before closing it behind himself, locking you both within.

"Is some-!"

"We had the most interesting conversation at breakfast this morning." You didn't normally eat with them when they all were together and at this particular meal you hadn't been at. He came towards you more, "Livia and I were talking about the next Games and our daughter declared she will never watch another one again in protest for the barbaric event." He was staring down at you with a condescending smile, "Now I don't know about you, but that seems a little strange for her to know a sentiment like that."

Your eyes quivered horror seizing you knowing those words had been muttered under your own breath, "President Snow, I-!"

"Bend over the desk." You open your mouth to be confused, but he shakes his head. "I won't repeat myself again."

You're shaking as you walk towards that monstrous mahogany desk. You lower your chest down against it, cool wood pressing into you face as his slow steps come towards you. "I'm sorry sir." You whisper.

His hand trails down your spine, "I know." The plea sits in your throat, you'll do anything to keep him from reporting you, from getting you hung for treason. "I know." He has you right where he wants you as he pushes your dress over your hips.

You scream as his hand comes down on your ass. "Stop!" You squirm but he wraps his other arm around your waist to keep you put. He's yanking your underwear down your legs bunching them up into his palm and shoving them into your mouth.

He spanks you again. "That's it. Be quiet and think about what you've done." His hand comes down again as tears break through your eyes, "Naughty, naughty girl." You cry into the fabric as he spanks you again. He slaps you over and over and over again until your body goes limp across the desk, until all you can feel is the jolt of your body with each hit and a hardness poking into your side. He caresses the burning cheek, attempting to soothe the raw skin, but he doesn't spank you again. "You did so good." You want to vomit but your brain feels muddled with pain you barely register his fingers gliding between your legs.

You groan.

"Shh," He hushes you running a hand along your folds. "You'll take this too." He pushed two fingers inside of you. You buck backwards finding some strength to try to run from it, but he's digging into your side to hold you against him fingers pushing up, up, up into you. He curls them some whine leaving you, muffled by fabric in your dry mouth as he moves his hand faster. It feels wrong, it feels wrong to have pleasure burning through you and you blame the pain still throbbing in your backside as the squelching sound fills the room. "Hmm that's it, there's my good girl." He kicks your legs apart spreading you open for him more as he thrust his hand violently into you. "Let me do whatever I want to you isn't that right?" You shake your head as you squeeze your eyes fighting the orgasm building in your bones. He somehow manages to reach his hand up your body to knead into the flesh of your breast groaning out as it forces your back to arch more for him. You hate this, you hate yourself, you hate him and his stupid children. "Cum for me." His hard cock digs into your side as your body curls around his desk knees falling inward.

You do. With his hand buried deep inside your cunt, you clamp down around him your cry silenced by your own underwear the chilling desk cooling your scorched skin. You go limp again as his hand stills inside of you letting your orgasm throb around his knuckles and slid down his wrist.

He moves his other hand that isn't inside of you and shifts it between his legs, and then you feel him. Feel him gliding his hand along his cock next to your sore body, fucking his hand to the sight of your glistening bare pussy and the hand print welted into your ass. You glance towards the window at the back wall listening to the sick wet sounds, the curses and grunts, and you feel more wetness slip out of you. It doesn't take him long for him as hot ropes of cum splatter across the tender flesh.

He leans over your body, mouth pressed against your ear, "If you ever spew that rebel bullshit to my children again I'll shove my cock so far down your throat you'll never be able to speak again." He rips his hand out of you and slams it down one last time on your raw ass cheek. You can hear him licking your pleasure off of his fingers while your nails break from holding onto the wood too tight, "Don't pretend you don't want it either."

He leaves you lying there across his desk shaking, in pain, and vowed to silence.

#daenysthedreamersblog #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #dark coriolanus snow #president coriolanus snow #coryo #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coryo x you

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be-my-ally · 10 months ago

Text

I Feel The Earth Move

for the prompt: something weather related. (wow, a genius must have come up with that)

I, I don’t know how or when this turned into 5k (7k now), I truly don’t - take it from me, nothing happens in this fic, it is pure (somewhat domestic) fluff and smut. It’s also - well, this is probably the closest you could get to a peek inside my brain of my current favourite sleep/daydream fantasy - i.e it's just reader and elvis having a chat?

warnings: 18+, smut (of the gentle kind), slight body-negativity (from reader, about herself). Because this is fanfiction, suspend your disbelief and assume Elvis was allowed a day off during his November 1971 tour during which this fic takes place, and that Joyce isn’t available. Red being a bit of a dick. I change tenses about 12 times.

1971!Elvis x fem!reader – soft belly mentioned.

wc: 7.3k - idk enjoy my long descriptions of choosing pjs, and sitting around watching Elvis sit there.

(It's been so long since I posted a non-series fic, that I truly can't remember taglist info so here is a PSA to message me/comment if you want me to tag you in everything!)

Elvis had called you, unexpectedly, just a few days ago, to join him for the rest of the tour and though you’d found the whirlwind of movement and activity exciting you were already tired. You couldn’t imagine how Elvis himself must be feeling. So, you were grateful that you were stopping for a little while, even if it was just for the night. The town you’d ended up in wasn’t anything special, just a convenient stop-off for the brief rest before you all continued to the show the next night. The hours from the show the night before, and the following afternoon weren’t long enough of a break for anyone to go home and relax, but Elvis had been twitchy and anxious to do something else for the day, and you weren’t surprised to be told there was to be a new car delivered to the hotel to play around with.

When the new, shiny, black car had pulled up outside the hotel you’d stood beside him at the window, nodding as he pointed out specific features, ooh and aahing at the right moments, even though, as far as you could tell it looked much the same as the others you’d seen him drive. But it made him happy and that was what mattered. Elvis had grinned at you and curled an arm around your waist, asking you oh so nicely if you wouldn’t like to go out for a ride with him in it. He’d had a long week, it was all getting a bit much - the tour, and the travelling and he just wanted to feel normal for an evening - you get that right? You’d readily agreed once he’d hitched your shirt up to brush his thumb against your skin and whispered he wanted it to just be the two of you. You would have agreed regardless, truthfully you would have agreed to anything he suggested after having had the call, so unexpectedly out of the blue, to come and spend a few days with him; you wanted to make the most out of every second.

You soon live to regret that sentiment, however, as you hurry to the car with your arms wrapped around yourself. It’s freezing and, though it isn’t raining yet, the dark grey sky isn’t looking particularly friendly. Elvis starts to follow you down the motel steps after a few muttered words to the boys, but pauses for a moment - watching you rapidly trot to the car before disappearing back into one of the rooms. You watch, shivering from the passenger seat, hoping he won’t take too long when he appears a minute later, hurrying down the stairs himself, this time carrying a second of his coats - a short but thick suede and shearling jacket that he throws onto your lap before climbing in himself. He’s wearing a red suede coat that falls to his knees, and he’s forced to unbutton it to sit down in the car. He mutters to himself about it, as he stands back up before finally getting in and slamming the door shut. He glances over at you,

“Look - get that on ya now, there we are - I’ll, I’ll turn the heat on in a mo, once we’ve got her running.”

“Thank you,” You shoulder into the jacket gratefully, “I didn’t realise it was so cold.” He hums at you, twisting the ignition and sending the car purring to life. He grins at the engine noise, turning to look at you with boyish delight.

“Alright then, honey, let me show ya what this can do.” You squeal as he takes off, and he laughs as you grab at the handle while he wildly turns the first corner, calming down a little himself once he was on the open road. He sings along to the radio, The Temptations are playing, Just My Imagination, and he hums along to the words he doesn’t know, singing the ones he does. It’s absurdly endearing and you’re momentarily breathless getting to watch and hear him like this. You have no idea where you are, too distracted with watching him than the passing scenery. He’s so pretty in the early evening light, happy and relaxed. He taps his hand on the wheel to the beat, moving his head, turning to sing to you. You smile, overwhelmed but not wanting to scare him off and unsure how to respond, but he clearly understands your facial expression and appreciation, offering his palm up on your thigh for you to hold.

You drive in what feels like an endless combination of loops and “Which way looks exciting baby? You wanna go left or right here?” until, somehow, it’s been almost two hours and you were passing through a small town on the outskirts of the city, gaining more and more distance from the hotel. If you’d started to pay any attention to your surroundings you’d realise you were starting to recognise them.

The storm starts slowly, just a little rain, a grey cloud here and there, and Elvis ignores it as he drives, laughing when he drives through a forming puddle and splashing up the water onto the windows. Simply turning his radio up higher in response to the worsening rain patter. You’re showing him your fully choreographed dance routine to I Feel the Earth Move, and he laughs at your wiggles and shakes while you giggle performing it, signalling to the sky and emphasising the ‘tumbling down’ lyric that matches the downpour picking up.

Almost at once, as the rain increases in tempo, the car starts to slow, sputtering and shuddering to a halt. The radio keeps playing although you immediately reach out to turn it down,

“Uh… what, what’s happened?” You have no clue about cars, but you’re hopeful Elvis might have some idea. Elvis growls, trying to turn the ignition again, the car sputters but refuses to start.

“Fuck, fuck, just fuckin’ great man.” He slams his hands on the wheel in frustration, and you flinch, turning to look wide-eyed out into the rapidly darkening evening sky, stormy and intimidating, the rain falling into flowing streams down the road. Elvis tries again, yanking his glasses off like that might make a difference, but it just won’t start and though you really don’t want to annoy him any further, you have, while peering over at him, noticed something that might be related to your sudden lack of power.

“Um, El, is - is that the gas blinking at you?” Elvis lifts his head up from the wheel, frowning at the fuel indicator. He swears again,

“Fuckin’ piece of junk - it must be broken already! I swear, honey, it had a full tank when we left - didn’t, it gave me no ind’catshun it would do that.” He shakes his head, muttering about a hunk of junk new cars while the E continues to flash. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth,

“Uh, well, at least we know what the problem is,” You rack your brain for a solution, “We’ll just have to get one of the guys to run us some gas!”

“Yeah real smart idea, ‘cept we don’t have a phone.” You whirl around to look into the backseat but sure enough, no phone. “In the goddamn middle of nowhere,” He slaps the wheel again. You look out of the windows, realising with a start exactly where you were. You debate for a second if you should confess but the rain picks up again, hammering down even harder than before, and you realise you don’t have a choice. “Guess our only choice is to go knocking on some people’s doors.” He sighs, putting his head into his crossed arms on top of the wheel,

“We-e-ell, not quite.” He rolls his head to peek at you,

“What d’ya mean?” You blink at him,

“Uh, my house is right around here. Just - just a little past that next corner.” Elvis sits fully upright, mouth agape, with a furrow forming in his brow,

“Your house? Around that corner?” You nod, anxious that he’s about to be mad that you hadn’t told him. He side-eyes you suspiciously,

“Thought you were from…uhhh, wasn’t it, uh, Louisville?”

“Well - yes and no, that’s where I go to college - my parent’s house is right around that corner ‘s only about another, I don’t know - maybe a 20 minute walk?” Elvis looks at you a little strangely again, but after he looks up at the sky, he nods.

“We’ll have to make a break for it I guess. Not quite how I planned the evenin’ - your folks be ok witchyou bringin’ me home?” You nod,

“Course! And, well, they’re visiting my aunt at the moment up in Chicago anyway - she’s just had another baby.” He pauses looking at you questioningly,

“And you didn’t wanna go? Don’t women like babies?” You roll your eyes,

“God, no I didn’t want to go! What can they do at that age anyway?” He frowns like he’d wanted to protest your point, but then realises he can’t deny it’s true, “I’ll go and see her when she can stand and look at me - and, well, I, I, I had plans made by then anyhow.” He grins at you and pleased that he liked your plan you continue,

“I can’t promise the fridge’ll be stocked, but there should be something we can eat in the pantry while we wait for the guys, and obviously we can use the phone -“ Elvis shakes his head, eyes bright,

“Yep, needta tell ‘em where we are, wouldn’t want them sending out a search party but…” He makes a show of peering out of the window, leaning forward, “You know, I wouldn’t want to make any of ‘em come out in this.” You blink at him, it was a bad storm, sure, but it would be a push to call it undriveable, “I s’pose we may as well stay the night.” He pats your thigh and you stare at him for a second, processing, before nodding.

“I suppose that does make an awful lot of sense. It wouldn’t be right for them to get stuck out here too…”

“Be nice to spend the night alone with you, baby.” He winks, nodding at the door, “Whenever you’re ready, hon, lead the way, I’ll follow you.”

You’re both soaked through by the time you reach the little front porch. Although your matching suede jackets had done the job of keeping some of the rain off, you had had still been out in the rain for a little too long - it had been a rapid walk, or slow jog for about fifteen minutes before you’d reached civilisation, frantically picking up the pace as thunder started to rumble overhead, for the last few minutes of dashing to your street. You scramble under the little decorative frog on the top step for the spare key, desperately hoping your mother hadn’t decided to move it while they were away. You hold it up triumphant, oblivious to the way the moonlight was reflecting off your blouse under Elvis’ open jacket, the rain making the white totally see through. Elvis grins at you encouragingly, and you open the door with a flourish, allowing you both to tumble into the empty house. You slam the door shut, leaning against it, dripping wet, to watch Elvis look around curiously and you anxiously begin to fill the silence.

“Um, I don’t know what clothes I have here - but, I definitely have something and I’ll bring down something for you, uh, you’ll probably have to wear my father’s pyjamas, and he’s a touch bit bigger than you, but we have a dryer!”

“Thank you sweetheart, that’s mighty kind of you -“

“So, I can get your clothes dried for you.” Elvis is looking at you with bemusement, and you can feel yourself rambling, and you force yourself to take a breath before continuing, “I’ll have to check if daddy’s left the water on - we might have to make do without a shower, but I’ve got plenty of blankets to warm us up instead.”

“Sounds great - I’m sure that’ll -“

“So if you just -“ you gesture to the kitchen doorway, “-I won’t be a minute, help yourself to anything you like. The phone’s just on the wall there if you wanna call the hotel.” You sprint up the stairs, furious with yourself for the rising panic you were starting to feel - what were you thinking. You were an adult, you could cope with this. You could deal with Elvis Presley. In your house. With nothing prepared.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down, trying to think straight, right. First things first, you head into your parent’s room, quickly finding an inoffensive pair of button down pyjamas for Elvis to wear, and you’re about to take them down the stairs when you’re suddenly made aware of the sticking sensation of your wet skirt to your legs - Elvis must be soaked through too, so you detour to the bathroom to fetch him a towel, shouting down to him,

“El! Here ya go!” He appears at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you with some amusement, as he tries to catch your particularly terrible throw. Clearly he doesn’t normally have his clothes thrown at him from above and it makes you laugh watching him flounder on the opposite side of his stage scarf dynamic for once.

“ ‘re you not coming down, baby?”

“Um, I’ll be down in just a second! Just leave your stuff on the table and I’ll run it down to the dryer in a bit!”

“Uh, well, sure thing, honey, thank you.” A moment or so later you can hear the clinking of what hopefully wasn’t too many firearms in your house as he gets undressed and then his murmuring voice as he speaks to someone on the phone.

You really didn’t have much by way of clothes still in this house, and even less that you would consider acceptable to wear with Elvis Presley in the room. You stare into your drawer for a little too long, willing for another choice to appear. Such magic powers are, apparently, beyond you however so there’s just the two options; a little chiffon babydoll set you’d left behind because it was now pretty much indecent, or a gingham flannelette set complete with embroidered teddy bear on the pocket. On the one hand the little babydoll set was pretty cute, but you were also freezing and warm cotton sounded appealing to your damp skin - but was being so bundled up really the image you wanted to give off to Elvis? He’d never seen you in anything but your very, very, carefully chosen outfits. You start to unbutton your shirt, determined you’d just have to freeze for the sake of fashion but as soon as the cool breeze hits your damp skin you change your mind, rapidly rubbing yourself down with a towel and changing into the snug flannelette of your winter pyjamas. When you come bouncing down the stairs he’s stood waiting for you, and you pause near the bottom, suddenly uncertain. He grins at you, reaching up to lift you down the last step, placing you right in front of him.

He’s taken his glasses off, tucked them into the breast pocket of the shirt, and clearly had been trying to tame his wet, lightly curling hair, into some semblance of order, the newly long shagginess pushed back against his ears. The borrowed PJs swamp his frame, Elvis is far slimmer than your father, and when you look him over you have to stifle a giggle. The pants ending about two inches too short and stopping far above his delicate ankles and bare feet. He looks down at them himself, following your eyes, and where at home he might have been self-conscious, here he takes it in his stride, smiling back at you with his eyes sparkling.

“Think I oughta wear this on stage?” He points his toes and you giggle, shaking your head, and gesture to the living room.

“I don’t know... I think we’d make a good looking pair.” You pose with your hands on your hips, blowing him a kiss,

“Uh-huh, sure, ‘specially with your lil’ bear there.” He flicks at the pocket on your chest and you blush,

“They’re warm!” He grins, pushing back his hair,

“They sure look it, you look snug as a bug.” He grabs your waist, pulling you into him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and you melt into his hold for a moment, before he pulls away, peering into the living room. You gesture,

“Feel free to sit anywhere.” Elvis looks around before walking over and settling in the armchair, resting his ankle on his knee. You anxiously consider your options before settling onto the couch, feeling silly for being nervous in your own home. It’s silent for a moment, well, somewhat - Elvis humming to himself as he continues to look around - assessing the bookshelves, before he finally speaks up;

“Don’t suppose you have any smokes ‘round here?” You shake your head apologetically,

“No - My da-” Before you suddenly remember that you do, and go running off up the stairs, hoping you were right. You come sliding back down, socks slipping on the stairs much to Elvis’ amusement as you come racing back in, but he says nothing and gratefully accepts a proffered cigarette from the box you hold out.

“Sorry, daddy doesn’t have any cigars - he doesn’t smoke.” You add on, as if otherwise you might have been embarrassed at not having any to offer. He shrugs,

“S’ok, I don’t mind.” You go to put the box away and he shakes his head,

“Jus leave it there - s’alright? Don’t of’fen smoke ‘em now-a-days but when I do, I uh, I’ll have a few.” He pauses as if remembering his manners, “If that’s alright?”

“Oh of course - by all means.” You hand it back to him, sinking back down into the couch. He leans back, the picture of ease, studying you, a glint in his eye,

“They your mama’s? I’ll replace ‘em.”

“Oh no, she doesn’t either,”

“You forget where you’d hidden them or somethin’?” He says it delicately, and you can feel him teasing you - like he already knows. You inwardly cringe in embarrassment,

“Uh, well, my parents didn’t like me to smoke - neither of them do, they’re not - they’re from before I went away, obviously, they were in my dresser still.” He grins at your bashfulness,

“Sensible. I wouldn’t let my little gal smoke none either.” He offers you the box, and you shake your head at his gall at offering you your own belongings, but still take one, letting him light it for you. You sit for a moment, but the silence drags, and it gets all too much for you all too fast. You get up to turn on the television, but the signal keeps dropping no matter what you try to do, and eventually Elvis says,

“Oh, look honey, just give it up - you gotta have somethin’ else we can put on? Look there’s your records over there,” He points to the player on the sideboard, and you readily agree. He sighs, pushing up to his feet and coming to stand next to you, crouching down to cast a judgemental eye over the collection. He pats your shoulder, pointing to what he wanted on, and you immediately obey.

You sit back down, just for a second, before you realise you were starving. “Are you hungry?” You don’t even give Elvis the possibility to respond before you continue, “Sorry, silly question - I won’t be a minute, I’ll see what I can come up with.” You disappear, rummaging through the cupboards to compile as much of a meal as possible,

“Well, there’s not much…” You bring in the tray, “But there’s pop-tarts!” Elvis looked it over, laughing -

“Jeez honey, you got anything not rolled in sugar?” You blush,

“Well sure but, it’s - I’m not a great cook Elvis,” He laughs, reaching over to grab a handful from the nuts you’d found, “Besides - there’s really not much here.”

“Nah, nah, this is great honey, truly, great.” You hand him a cup of hot cocoa, and he’s just as pleased with that as with his tray of exceedingly random snacks, and you settle on the floor by his feet with a deck of cards. He plays with your hair as you shuffle, swearing as the intimate moment is wrecked by your yelp at the strands catching on his chunky ring.

Once you’re untangled you suggest gin, and you play for a couple of rounds, putting up with Elvis somehow winning every time before he sighs as if bored, picking up a book your father had left on the side. He opens it up, glancing at the pages, nodding in pleasure,

He whistles, “Whoo, boy, your daddy’s got good taste - c’mon up here and I’ll read to you, baby.” You scramble up to clamber onto his lap, squealing as he tugs you onto him more than the chair, tucking your feet into the crease of the cushion and the arm and situating you into a comfortable position. You glance at the cover, internally groaning, it’s a WWII history, and you’d really rather not at this time of the night, but it’s harmless enough to let him drone on above you, his delicate cadence and deepening voice gentle on your ears. You don’t realise you’ve drifted off until he nudges you,

“You’re not paying attention.” You wiggle your toes, yawning,

“Sorry, sorry I am, ‘m just warm.” He snorts,

“You were snoring,” You blush,

“I don’t snore,” Elvis pokes your side as he laughs, nodding his head at you,

“Oh, sure you do.” You frown - about to protest some more but he cuts you off before you can, “I think, I’ve gotta leave for the show in, uh, ‘bout eight hours, so prolly need to get some sleep.” It had gotten quite late, and while you wouldn’t admit to snoring, you had been asleep, so you readily agree.

You hadn’t really thought about the sleeping arrangement past taking him up the stairs with you, just assuming you’d be in together - like you were at Graceland, or in the hotel but stood in the doorway of your bedroom with Elvis now you weren’t so sure. You have no idea what it is about your teenage bedroom making you feel nervous again, you’re an adult - you’ve spent more than enough nights in Elvis’ bed and yet for some reason you feel like you’re sixteen again, nervously sneaking a boy upstairs.

He peers around you to investigate the room, assessing the floral wallpaper and curtains. He brushes past you to take a closer look, turning in a circle. You watch his brow furrow as his eyes land on the glossy magazine pages surrounding your mirror. It’s as if he can’t stop himself, nodding with self satisfaction as he puts the image of George Harrison face down onto your dressing table. He doesn’t seem to have the same issue with the images of his younger self.

“Uh well, here we are. I guess if you have in here, I’ll go downstairs - or, I’ll go into my parents room.” He whirls around at your suggestion,

“No, no, wanna stay with my girl in her bed, y’can’t leave me all on my lonesome inna new place; I might sleepwalk right outta here!” You shake your head, tummy flipping, even as you smile at his vehemence.

“Well sure, but,” You gesture to the bed, “I forgot about this.” He frowns looking over at your pink, ruffled bed.

“Forgot about what? ‘S not got clean sheets or something, honey?”

“No, No, of course they’re clean!” Elvis smirks at your immediate outrage, “It’s just it’ll be uh…cosy. I forgot how small the - well, it’s not quite a full” You brace yourself for a second after you say it, forgetting that you’re not on the road with the boys at the moment, you’re in your home and he knows that. Knows that even if the situation would have normally caused him to pitch a fit he wouldn’t here. Here and now he’ll be on his best behaviour, and if you accuse him of acting any differently he’d deny it with a twinkle in his eye. You imagine how ridiculously polite he would be had your parents been home; “Why, this must be your sister! Thank you for having me over, I know it’s a real impo’sitshun.” and “Yes ma’am, you have a lovely home.” all, “No ma’am I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.” and of course why yes, he is a good southern boy. Although, if they had been, he probably wouldn’t be squeezing into your bed with you. Still that was probably unfair, he really had been on his absolute best behaviour all evening.

“Cozy is a-ok with me, baby, y’don’t mind me getting real close do ya now?” He takes a step closer to the bed, patting the covers.

“No, no but I - you’re used to, god your bed must be four times this - are you going to be able to sleep?” You ask, concerned, and he shrugs,

“Prolly not - truth be told, but I don’t have my med’cation either. Hadn’t expected to be out very long.” Oh, of course. You frown continuing,

“Oh - maybe it would be better then if we split up - it probably is too small for the both of us.” He shakes his head,

“No, no, come sit over here now, listen here and I’ll tell you somethin’.” He pats the bed and you perch onto the side of it, watching him talk, “When I was little - just you know,” he gestures to his knees to indicate his height, “Momma an’ I used to share a bed that I’m pos-i-tive was small’r than this one.” He sits down next to you, leaning back on an arm to better look over it.

“With your Mama?”

“Yeah, yeah, we were - lord, we were poor as anythin’ and we just didn’t have no spare money for beds or, anything- and the like; while daddy was away ‘specially.” You didn’t know any of this,

“Oh. That must have been hard.” It’s hard to imagine him as anything less than the expensive, gaudy, generous man in front of you. But then, it does make sense - no-one who’s that giving comes from money.

“Well, you see, I s’pose I didn’t know any different - and I love my mother, I really do - did. That’s why I bought ma house, well, why I did everythin’ I suppose - it t’was all for her really.”

“Oh - that’s, that’s really lovely Elvis.” He nods, a little sadly, shrugging,

“Yeah, well, never mind. I know ‘s a little weird, but it weren’t anythin-” You interrupt his bashful commentary, hating the idea that this totally natural behaviour might be something he feels bad about.

“I was 12 before I could fall asleep by myself - my mom had to lay with me, or daddy hadta read to me - so you know I don’t think that’s weird at all El, ‘specially if you didn’t have room.”

“Yeah well, I was prolly a little too old by the time we could ‘ford a second bed, but it’s just like what you say - it weren’t anything strange.” You nod, pleased he seems less embarrassed. And wasn’t that just a wild thought - that Elvis might be the one embarrassed in your childhood bedroom.

“Well, in any case, there’s no point being uncomfortable - maybe we should…maybe we should try my parents room?” Elvis shudders,

“Sorry doll nothing ‘gainst your folks, but uh I don’t much like the idea of bein’ uninvited into someone’s bed…” You nod, standing back up and starting to tug down the sheets,

“Well then, let’s give this a go…I’ll just go fetch the spare pillows.” He looks over at you incredulously,

“Honey, you can’t possibly think we need more pillows?” He gestures to the overstuffed bed, “I’m not even sure how you fit in there with all of them!” You giggle,

“I do!” You start to pull off the decorative ones, “Not these ones though - I don’t sleep with these, or those.” You point to the others, and he shakes his head as he joins you in throwing them onto the floor, leaving just the main pillows at the top. It still left five pillows though and Elvis shakes his head,

“You got an itty-bitty bed and enough cushions for ten!” You laugh, defending yourself,

“I just like to be cocooned!” You wriggle, as if imitating being wrapped up, and he laughs back at you, eyes crinkling as he watches you.

“Cocooned! Well, you won’t need them tonight, can just sit’ate your bitty self right by me.” You smile, and he settles the nerves that were starting to swirl in your tummy as you’d continued to prepare the bed for both of you. “Seriously though - how’d you fit all these in?” He stands back, hands on his hips trying to picture your usual sleeping arrangement.

“Well, I normally sleep on that one there, and then those two go on either side, and that one goes ‘tween my legs.” Elvis waggles an eyebrow, before placing the pillow you’d gestured to atop ‘his’ side of the bed.

“Oh! and a friend!” As you tossed another cushion to the floor, the stuffed bunny tucked between the pillows had gone flying, you flush red at the sudden swirl of guilt as you watch Clarissa hit the floor, “Who’s this?” You force yourself to be nonchalant,

“Oh Elvis - don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasin’ honey, you tryin’ tell me it’s not got a name?” He picks her up,

“El, she’s no-one.” You shake your head,

“Aha! A girl bunny!” He holds her aloft, “She’s mighty cute!”

“Really - El, I don’t know how she got there again.” He sighs, tucking her under his own arm, whispering to her,

“She’s gonna let you sleep out in the cold, yeah-huh, you’re right, it’s not right. You jus’ wanna be warm and fuzzy too don’t ya.” Though your tummy clenches at his teasing, the way he continues to have her tucked into his armpit, carefully placing her into the bed when you climb in and tucking her back into his chest makes you feel some soft sort of way. You climb in too, a little tense at first. It’s not like you’re unused to sleeping next to him, but there’s usually just a few minutes of cuddling before he rolls away across the vast expanse of mattress. But today he holds you close, arm wrapped around - your face smushed to his chest, it’s a little strange, the combination of him smelling like your home and him. Not that he has a choice but to hold you close - if either of you tried to roll away, you’d go clear off the side of the bed.

“Goodnight Elvis,” You whisper, and he whispers it back to you, tucking his chin over your head. You try to settle your breathing, anxious to fall asleep as you feel his own breathing deepen as he settles in. He makes a little tutting noise a couple of times, and you worry you’re encroaching on his space, so you inch away, clinging onto the edge of the mattress.

“Where y’going baby?” He mutters into your ear, “C’mon back here.” He rolls you into him,

“Don’t wanna smother you.” He huffs a laugh, smoothing down your hair,

“Wanna be smothered by you.” He settles with a happy hum, kissing your head again, and you relax your breathing, trying to will yourself to sleep.

The way you’re tucked against him means every movement feels exaggerated, so when, a minute later he starts to kick his legs down you’re forced to just put up with the motion for a few moments - until it becomes a bit more vigorous;

“El - stop.” He doesn’t stop, continuing to kick at the bedding. “Elvis! You’re kicking all the blankets off of me.” The motion ceases, but less because of anything you said and more because he’s succeeded in shoving the sheets to the bottom of the bed. He throws himself back, laying there on his back and dramatically panting as if in relief at the temperature change. You shudder in the chilly air, “Elvis! You can’t possibly be too hot, it’s - it’s practically freezing out there!”

“You know I like it cool, hon.” You frown, tucking your knees up,

“Well yeah? But I’m freezing!” He rolls his eyes, but tugs the sheets back over you, leaving one of his legs out.

“There we are see, just cuz ‘m a gentleman.” He tugs you back to him, “Now, stop ya yabberin’ on and let me get some sleep.” You gasp in outrage -

“Stop yabberin’!! It was you! You were the - “ Elvis hushes you, play snoring in your ear, and you snort back at him, settling with your back against his chest. You’re starting to drift off a little, not quite there, but not truly awake either, when his hand, that had been gently stroking your shoulder moves down to your waist. He snuffles a kiss against your shoulder, pushing the collar of your pyjamas down. Your eyes fly open,

“Oh!” He hums behind you, pulling you closer and curling his arm across your abdomen. He mutters against your skin, whispering into your ear,

“You gotta be all riled up, baby - I sure am, can hardly stand it, lying here all close to you.” He’s breathy on the hard consonants, breath tickling your skin,”Just need you, honey, need you real bad.” Whether it was intentional or not it sends shivers of arousal down your spine, tummy flipping as the heat begins to pool. His hand toys with the bow on your waistband, “Bet you’re close unner there, huh? Bet you’re right and ready for me,”

“I’m - I’m…” You can’t think of anything past stuttering at him, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, and he moves his fingers to unbutton your shirt. It falls open, and he leans back just enough to pull it off - you allow him, docile as a doll and he returns to hug you, kissing your now naked back.

“Gonna warm you up now, don’t you go worryin’ bout that, get you all nice and hot.” You wriggle against him, unsure what to do with your hands besides clasp at the sheets, “Mmhmm, that’s right baby, bet you’re all slippery already honey, aren’t you?” You gasp,

“I think - I think so Elvis, god you’ve gotta touch me properly,” He giggles, slipping a hand into your cotton trousers. He brushes over the wiry hair there, gently twisting a curl with his finger. Stroking down, he rubs you with a single fingertip, between the seam of the trousers and your skin, and you rock into him, “El-Elvis, I swear, I’m good to go,” You can feel his smile against your skin,

“Uh-huh, sure are, aren’t you? Feels like satin down here, you got satin skin baby?” You gasp at how his fingers dance over you,

“What-whatever you say!” Elvis’ fingertips aren’t satin smooth against you, a gentle rough edge that cuts through the slipperiness of your slick folds enough to make your eyes flutter closed. He withdraws his other hand from where it had been curled around your shoulder, and a moment later you feel him against your back, tugging down his trousers and letting his already hard cock pop out. He rubs against you, almost as if inadvertently, and you arch your back with a moan, he wiggles himself down to better position himself, the whole while still gently petting you.

Your eyes re-open as he growls, pulling his hand out and away to rapidly tug down your bottoms, letting you kick them off to the bottom of the bed, before clutching at you and tugging you even closer. You lock gaze with the judgemental beads of Clarissa and gasp out a giggle before reaching out to knock her flying to the floor,

“I can’t - not with her watching.” Elvis laughs, the sound mixing into a groan as he presses into you. You’re wet enough for him to slide in, and the angle is gentle enough that you feel just the slightest hint of a stretch while he snugly fits in, rocking into you further and further.

It’s not a position you’re usually in, and though he can’t really see you, you feel more self-conscious than you have with him before. Elvis’ hands rove over your stomach, and you’re unable to pull his arm up like you usually would, and instead his fingers are playing around the little overhang of your belly, brushing a finger on the sensitive skin there. “So soft doll, you’re like a little baby - so goddamn soft, I could, could just sink right into ya.” You gasp, it’s so antithetical to what you expected him to say,

“Oh,” He hushes you, stroking your stomach again,

“Lis’en to me, ‘m so lucky, honey,” You make a noise of agreement, “So lucky, you’re so goddamn pretty, y’hear?” Your leg moves of its own accord, up a little, giving him a little extra wiggle room that he quickly takes advantage of, continuing to rock into you. His hand on your stomach has slid down to stroke the crease of your thigh, reaching around to rub at your clit, and he leans down to kiss your shoulder and neck. You don’t expect it, enjoying the intimacy enough that you didn’t really care if you achieved it, but the feel of his lips on your neck, the speed of his hand, the rocking deep into you is all enough to cause your thighs to clench, fists gripping the sheets as you ride out the shakes of a gentle orgasm.

Elvis follows momentarily later. He stays where he is, curled around you, slowly slipping out his softening cock, breathily heavily against your back, his hand still stroking you even as he moves his arm to rest upon your stomach. His touch briefly disappears for a moment to swipe clumsily at you with your own trousers, and with the motion you find yourself suddenly bursting into overwhelmed tears. He immediately rolls you over to look at him,

“Oh no, baby, what’s’a matter?” His eyes crinkle at you, “C’mon now, ‘nough of that,'' He wipes the tear tracks away with a thumb and you gulp at him, breath hitching as you find yourself unable to stop, “You’re too pretty to make yourself all red,'' He changes tact, attempting the stern tone that sometimes seems to work on the audiences. “C’mon, stop it now, take it easy.” He sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you can’t stop yourself.

“I’m,” Your voice wavers, “sorry - I don’t, don’t know - I’m so-“ He cuts you off, tugging you closer to him,

“Alright, alright, you just stay there, just let it out, that’s it, c’mere, go on, I don’t mind.” He tucks you into his chest, “Shh, shh, didn’t meanta make you cry, honey - it’s alright.” He soothes, large palm stroking your back until you calm down into sniffles. God how embarrassing, you feel stupid for it - how silly can a girl be?

“Oh nah, now, not silly, honey, ‘s just, just the effect I have on the girls I reckon, god knows why, but seems to be the case.” You hadn’t realised you’d said it aloud and you let out a watery giggle against the soft fuzz of his chest. “C’mon now, curl in and let’s go to sleep,” He shifts a little, to make it easier for you to practically lie on top of him, he tugs the covers around you, effectively tucking you in, shushing you when you start to sniffle again, before you drift off to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

You awake with a start, the phone ringing insistently. You quickly realise, though, that it wasn’t the phone that had awoken you, but Elvis shouting on his back for,

“Daddy!! God I swear, Charlie!! I swear to god man, I swear to god. Someone shut that damn phone up ‘fore I shoot the goddamn thing off the wall!” His eyes are still closed even as he roars out the order and you can’t help, now that your heart has stopped racing, but laugh at him. He sits bolt upright at the sound of your giggle, blinking in the daylight,

“El - El, it’s my phone - you can’t go round shooting other people’s houses.” He flops back, just as dramatically as last night, patting at your thigh and back,

“Oh lord… they’ll be wantin’ somethin’ offa me - go on then little’un - go see what they want.” The phone stops for a second, and you look over at the clock on your bedside, 12:04.

“They’re probably going to say we’re late.”

“Late? Nah, barely, barely slept, got plenty of time.” You throw the alarm clock at him as the phone starts up again and, grabbing your robe from the door on the way, you start to head down to answer it, leaving him swearing behind you.

You regret picking it up, almost immediately being shouted at from the guys on the other end of the line. Whoever had been the one calling had been pleasant enough, for the brief “Hello” you’d been allowed before the receiver had been taken over by Red and you were now near tears again at the way you’re being spoken to, told off, and degraded for keeping him out. As if it were entirely your idea, and how you can forget about accompanying him on the rest of the tour. You were, according to Red, a goddamn liability - the monologue had just turned into questioning your motives, suggesting you were heading to the tabloids any minute when the phone was plucked out from your hands. You’d failed to notice, in the haze of trying to absently defend yourself, Elvis coming down the stairs.

“You talk to all my girls like that?” As much as you enjoy his angry tone, you didn’t love being reminded in that moment that you were probably one of many. Still, his furious expression made your heart feel like it was pounding out of your chest, a deep glow emanating. There’s silence, then, “Whatever, man, I’ll talk to you ‘bout it later, not got time right now - ‘s the car ready? Gonna be late for this show else, Colonel’ll have my ass I swear, if that car ain’t out there -“ He pauses, “Well, why the hell not? Thought you’d have been - right, okay, well that’s what it’ll have to be - just get it out here in twenty.” He hangs up the phone without a goodbye, immediately turning to you and cupping your cheeks in his hands as he kisses you. “Pay him no mind, he don’t know what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.” You nod,

“Ok, but Elvis - you know I would never; that’s not what I’m - “ He shakes his head,

“I know, I told you - don’t listen to a word he says.” You do your best, even as it reverberates around your head as you collect up your clothes from the dryer, watching Elvis redress. You wonder if you should go with him, where you’re so clearly unwanted, and though he doesn’t say anything you can tell Elvis thinks you’re being weirdly quiet. It’s barely any time at all before the car outside honks, and it’s time to leave. You make the last minute decision that you’ll see him to the car, but stay behind, but as if he can read your mind, after he climbs into the car Elvis turns to look back at you,

“You’re comin’ too, baby, right?” He holds out an arm, and despite feeling the glare from the guys in the car, you grab onto it - your desire to stay with him outweighing any worries.

taglist:

@ellie-24 @vintageshanny @thatbanditquee @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @shakerattlescroll @dkayfixates @18lkpeters @literally-just-elvis-fics

#elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis smut #be-my-ally #elvis x oc #elvis x reader #elvis x you #writing prompt game

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 1 year ago

Text

The List (7)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: Implied sexual content

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Not Beta’d. Sorry for the long wait. How do you think this story will end? Will Bucky and Y/N get a happy ending? Leave a comment with your thoughts!

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 7

Most people hope their first marriage is their only marriage. If anyone asked Y/N years ago, she would have agreed. She could have gone without divorcing Bucky, but marrying the same man twice came pretty close.

Y/N smacked her ruby stained lips in the mirror. The edge of her burgundy nails traced the corners of her lips.

“You look beautiful as always Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the man through the mirror. Sam stood behind her, a soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Sam,” Y/N replied, his eyes flickering back to her own reflection. “Do you have the dress?”

The sun seeped through the window dusting Bucky’s bedroom in an orange glow. Sam ran his hand down the front of his ash gray suit. A smirk danced along his lips as he plucked a long cloth white bag from the bed.

“I went to three stores for this. The look on the faces of everyone in the stores when I told them I needed a dress for prison was priceless.” He unzipped the bag, twirling the hanger between his fingers. “Believe me when I say it's not easy shopping for a prison bride. What do ya think?”

Facing Sam, Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement as she leaped forward to snatch the dress from his grasp. It was modest yet elegant. With her back to Sam once again, she held the dress against her bodice. The dress wasn’t form-fitting like most and the neckline was higher than usual, but she felt beautiful, respected.

“The prison doesn’t allow visitors to wear plunging necklines or skirts with slits so Bucky will have to wait to get a glimpse of the goods,” Sam teased.

Y/N threw her head back as she laughed. “No, it’s beautiful, Sam.” She turned, patting his chest. “You did great. Besides, Bucky’s already seen the goods.”

Sam snorted.

“Help me with this?”

Sam nodded, tugging the zipper of the dress down while Y/N unknotted her silk robe.

Click.

“I heard of bachelorette parties getting crazy, but I didn’t expect you to stoop as low as Wilson.” Steve chided in the doorway. His blue eyes darker against his charcoal suit.

“Ha, ha. Very funny. Do you have the paper?” Y/N questioned, crossing her arms to keep her robe closed.

Steve tapped a folder against the trim of the doorway. “One marriage license for Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.”

“The rings?”

Steve stalked toward Bucky's dresser, producing two familiar rings.

Y/N gasped. Her bare feet padded across the floor until she was in front of Steve. “Is that-”

“Bucky’s old wedding ring? Yeah. The guy is sentimental.” Steve shrugged.

A million emotions pulled at her chest. She squashed the thought that she was repeating a mistake. They were different now, but she had to ask, “What about his mother’s ring?” It didn’t feel right to call it her ring. They were divorced. It was his mother’s first, it belonged in the Barnes family, that’s why she gave it back.

Steve frowned. “I don’t know.”

“You sure you want to get married at the prison?” Sam piped up dangling the dress between his index fingers.

It wasn’t like they would be getting married in the courtyard or mess hall. Y/N nodded. “There's a chapel-”

Everyone froze at the sound of wheels on gravel. All of Bucky’s men were in the house. Steve was the last one out, no one should have made it past the gate. Where was Peter?

“Are you expecting someone?” Sam whispered.

Before Y/N could shake her head, Steve was taking control. It was his instinct and Bucky would never forgive him if he let something happen to Y/N. His blue eyes found Y/N’s tossing the folder and ring on the dresser. “Stay here,” he commanded in a hiss. Then he was gone, his gun in hand.

Eyeing Y/N’s state of underdress, Sam grabbed his own gun from the back of his pants. “Stay here. Keep away from the windows.” Just as fast as Steve had vanished, Sam did too.

Y/N growled, aggressively tying the string of her robe in a knot. She was supposed to be in charge, not hiding like a damsel in distress in her bedroom. Drawing her own gun, she raced down the hall ignoring her lack of shoes. After being in a shootout at the gala, she knew her presence could be the difference between life or death.

When she reached the front door, a bunch of Bucky’s men had already flocked to the front of the house, each with a gun pointed at a sleek black car. Y/N knew Bucky had a lot of men working for him but seeing them all at once was overwhelming. Nevertheless, she made her way through the crowd slotting herself between Sam and Steve. She could feel the latter shoot her a glare, but she ignored it. They had bigger problems, but she knew sticking with Sam and Steve was her best bet at making it out of whatever this was.

The tinted windows left everyone on edge up until the moment the driver’s side opened. Cropped brown hair peeked over the top of the car followed by two peace signs.

“We come in peace.”

Lowering the steel piece in her hands, Y/N waved her hand. Everyone lowered their gun before Y/N engulfed the man in a hug.

“Thanks for calling off the guard dogs,” Tony mumbled.

Y/N pulled away staring into the man’s square framed glasses. “What are you doing here?”

Peeking over Y/N’s shoulder, Tony nodded at Steve. “Heard you were getting married today. I wanted to deliver my wedding present in person.”

She wanted to tell Tony he didn’t have to get her anything, but the words were stuck in her throat when the car door behind Tony opened. In a memorable blue suit, the very one Y/N had dropped off at the prison, stood Bucky Barnes. The men began to whisper but Y/N sucked in a breath. The sight of the man on a normal day was enough to leave her speechless, but she wasn’t sure he was really standing in front of her. If he wasn’t and it was all a dream, she didn’t want to say anything and ruin it.

Bucky grinned, eyeing each of his men before his steel blue eyes locked with Y/N’s. With his arms outstretched he announced, “Daddy’s home.”

His voice was enough confirmation that her fiancé was indeed standing in front of her, free from prison walls. Shoving her gun in Tony’s chest, she leaped into Bucky’s arms. With support from one of Bucky’s hands under her and her legs securely wrapped around his waist, Bucky’s free hand wrapped around the back of her neck pulling her into a searing kiss.

“What are you doing here? Did you escape?” Y/N panted, as Bucky settled her back on her feet. His arms remind around her holding her close.

Bucky laughed, “No, I’m on probation for good behavior courtesy of Tony’s top-notch lawyer, but he did.” He jabs his finger over his shoulder toward the car.

Tony knocked on the hood of the car. “It wasn’t easy either. You’re lucky Barnes.”

The back seat behind the passenger’s side door opened and for what felt like the millionth time that day, Y/N was shocked.

Thor.

Y/N gripped Bucky tight. “You brought an escapee here? To our home?”

The corners of Bucky's lips twitch at the word home. He was home. More importantly, she was home. “You said he’s a good guy. I trust you.”

“Lady Y/L/N, good to see you again.” Thor plucked her from Bucky’s arms and spun her around.

Despite his trust in Y/N, Bucky was still wary of Thor. As friendly as he seemed, Bucky had seen him fight. The man was unpredictable. It was better for everyone if he could keep an eye on Thor. To make sure he wasn’t going to run off to his brother.

“No one is going to look for him here, but I bet they’ll be knocking on Loki’s door soon enough.” Tony offered.

“Good to see you too, Thor,” Y/N returned his hug. He had always been kind to her, and she would have been glad to call him her brother-in-law. Unfortunately, his brother wanted her dead.

When Thor released her, she accepted Bucky’s outstretched hand. His hand then found a home around her waist, holding her against him as they made their way toward where Sam and Steve were standing. “Is this what you’ve been wearing to greet all of my men when they come home?” Bucky growled, pinching the silk hugging her body.

Y/N jumped. “No, I-”

“Welcome back Barnes,” Sam greeted, shaking Bucky’s free hand. Steve on the other hand nodded at Bucky and retreated back into the house with many of the other men. Y/N would have found it odd had Steve not had any updates on Bucky through her.

When they reached the front door, Bucky cupped Y/N’s jaw planting a kiss on her lips. Y/N melted into the kiss, but it ended too soon for her liking. Bucky pulled away, his thumb brushing the smeared lipstick from her lips. “I’m gonna make an honest woman out of you.”

Standing in the wedding gown Sam picked out, she admired her appearance. Now that Bucky was out, they could discuss their plans more freely, but that didn't mean he was free. His ankle bracelet was enough to keep him trapped in the confines of his property. A sitting duck away from police like a gift wrapped up and delivered on Loki’s doorstep.

Bucky had spent the hour chatting with his men and getting up to date on matters outside of Loki’s drama. Y/N used that time to finish getting ready. Steve was busy making arrangements for their wedding to take place at the house. Y/N and Bucky agreed to meet to get married before dinner, but Bucky was greedy. He spent far too long without her during their divorce and once he got her back, he was shipped off to prison. Bucky didn’t want to waste another moment without her.

Bucky kissed the base of her neck. His nose ran up the side as his lips paused against the shell of her ear. “You look beautiful.”

“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her gown before the wedding.”

Bucky snorted, “We’ve already done the traditional wedding once and the only thing that not seeing you all dolled up before the wedding did, was prevent me from tearing the dress off you.”

Y/N chuckled, spinning in his hold to face him. “Well, you did promise to fuck me only wearing this.” She held her left hand at eye level. Bucky didn’t miss the wiggle of her eyebrows past the gap between her fingers. Y/N stepped back unzipping the back of her gown. Like a film, Bucky couldn't take his eyes off her. She was his favorite movie, and she was the star. He’d gladly stand by her as the supporting actor. When the dress pooled at her feet, she slotted her bare skin against Bucky’s clothed chest. Bucky’s Adams apple bobbed as she brushed her lips against his own. A seductive whisper on her lips, “Fuck me.” Bucky groaned, gripping her hips as he stumbled backwards. He shook his head, his legs hit the bed and he plopped onto the mattress, taking his fiancée with him. Slipping out from the collar of his white button down was a small white gold ring on a chain. Staring up at the woman straddling his lap Bucky moaned, “No. Fuck me.”

While Y/N would have gladly married Bucky in an intimate setting between the two of them, Bucky wanted to proudly show her off. Everyone knew her but she was home. She was his, and he was hers. They had found their way back to one another. With the underlying threat looming in the air, if tonight was all they got, Bucky was going to make it the best night.

Happily drunk and giggling, Y/N locked eyes with Bucky from across the room. He sat leaned back in a chair at a small table watching her from across his meeting room turned ballroom. His index finger and thumb stroking his beard. She crossed the makeshift dance floor pausing a moment to talk to Sam.

“She’s having a great time.” Steve sat beside Bucky, nodding at Y/N.

Bucky hummed, “I think everyone is.” There was a long moment of silence between the two before Bucky spoke again. “Thank you.”

Steve tilted his head, his eyebrow raised. “It wasn’t hard to set up. You’d be surprised what people can do with a week's notice.”

Bucky nodded. “I meant thank you for taking care of her while I was gone. I was going to wait to thank you for the wedding until it was officially over so I can properly thank you for everything.”

Y/N met Bucky’s gaze once again.

“You're newly married and by law not allowed to leave your house. I doubt you’ll have time for any thank yous.” Steve teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Before Bucky could respond, Y/N was standing in front of him. Her hand outstretched as if waiting for him to kiss the back of it. Bucky admired the white gold ring, a stark contrast against her red nails. He was pleased she accepted his mother’s wedding band once again. It was a ring the two most important women in his life had worn; he had only given to one person, and he didn't intend to give to another. A ring he kept close to his heart since she had given it back, since she had given his heart back. He was delighted to return the ring and his heart to her, where they belonged.

“Bucky, come dance with me.”

Bucky grasped her hand running his thumb over the rings as he had the day he first saw her wear the engagement ring. His eyes traced the vein extending from her ring finger up her arm.

“Please husband,” Y/N whined.

Steve chuckled, “You better go dance with your wife, punk.”

Bucky didn’t need to see the rest of the vein hidden beneath her dress to know it led to her heart. Just like the ring he had given her, she had him wrapped around her finger. After kissing the rings on top of the vein shooting directly to her heart, Bucky grinned up at her. “Lead the way, wife.”

Next Chapter

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