#from my dress to impress phase…

[skidzobrainia]

Old turbo/skid art. Whatever anymore.

[backinmyphase]

Not your husband

Summary: You are going to marry the Satoru Gojo. A dream come true right? Well when he doesn't even show up to the meetings to arrange your marriage, it becomes clear that it's more a nightmare.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3040 words

Next part Masterlist

Sane Geto AU (I am an Angst writer, but not like Gege. Please excuse any errors in my writing)

The world of Jujutsu was never a world for you.

Born into a clan, which only saw your value in your technique. Born into a family, which only saw your mistakes. Born from a mother, who had the same problems but still resented you.

Born into a world full of curses but still being told you were the biggest of all.

"Don't daydream, you will make a bad impression. And you really can't afford that."

The woman in front of you isn't pleased. She isn't since she knew she wouldn't give life to boy.

It's hard as woman in a Jujutsu clan.

It's not about how your technique can help you, it's about how your technique could help your son at exorcising curses.

"Yes, mother."

She frowns as she looks at you. Displeased she fixes her posture a bit, signaling you to do the same. You obey.

"You can't afford to make any mistakes today. Just do as I told you. I can only hope you have learned anything."

As you nod you realize what all this means. The dress kimono you are wearing. The expensive tea that is ready to serve. The hairpin you have gotten from your mother, who did your hair today.

All of it becomes so real.

Your husband has been decided.

"You won't say anything, until you are being asked." The woman hissed. "And please keep a smile on your boring face, then it at least looks not so simple."

You never discovered your technique and what you could do with it. It wasn't easy. Knowing that everything you did would result in you being married of.

And as you sat here in this big room with your mother, you could only wonder.

Who would your husband be? Could it be someone who understood you?

Someone you could love?

As the door opened you saw your father who looked onto the ground as he spoke.

"They are here."

Your mother only nodded, as your father closed the door. Just a few minutes later the door was opened again.

And a beautiful woman stepped inside.

She smiled at your mother as she took a seat in front of her. But the smile was the same as the smile of your mother. And maybe the same of your own.

As she sat down on the opposite side, you served the tea. The best tea your clan could afford.

For a man that didn't seem to have come.

The woman gave an apologetic smile. "My sincere apologies, but my son... Well he is in a bit of a rebellious phase, which lead of him disappearing before this meeting."

Your mother's smile faded a bit. "Does he know of what importance this meeting is for our clans?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, he knows." She slightly eyed you before she spoke again. "He just doesn't care."

Silence flodded the room. It was like a cold hand slidded down your back as you realized.

"I hope the Gojo Clan will show more interest in our connection. We will be very disappointed if not." The smile of your mother was just as cold as the hand that seemed to choke you.

This was Mrs. Gojo. The mother of the strongest.

Gojo Satoru.

The one who seemingly stood above anyone. The one who jumped at every opportunity to mess with the higher ups.

Who will be your husband.

And he didn't even show up to meet you.

"Of course. He will learn." The woman sighed as she spared you a glance again. Then she smiled that smile again.

And you mirrored it.

"Your future husband isn't the easiest person." The woman sighed as she looked at you. "Even as a baby he knew what he wanted and how to get it."

Not knowing how to react you just nodded.

The woman laughed at that. "But no worries! Even though he is... Difficult, you will love him. He has that effect on people."

Your mouth dried up at the mention of love. How could this woman talk about love at the table your arranged marriage would be discussed? How could she talk about love when you didn't even have a saying in this arrangement? How, when you will marry the strongest?

Satoru Gojo?

"I really hope that he will learn." Your mother smiled while taking a sip from her tea. "He should know that his actions are what keep the Gojo Clan still important. He shouldn't throw that away."

The tension grew a lot, as Mrs. Gojo mirrored the smile and took a sip of the tea. "Well at least I brought him to our Clan. In the end that's the biggest thing a woman could achieve right?"

It was sick. We lived in modern times, but the Jujutsu Society was still so far behind, floating under the radar, with the excuse of making the world a better place.

"It's true." Your mother sighed as she lowered her cup. "The strongest really is the biggest achievement you could have ever accomplished. Being the parent of such a child... But I wonder..."

Your mother now didn't even try to hide her distain. "Why does his mother not have him under control?"

Klirrr

"Because." Mrs. Gojo's hand shook as it held the broken cup. The sharp shards cutting into it. "As a boy, he can have this freedom."

The black tea in your cup grew cold as long with the atmosphere in the room. Your mother stood up and left the room without a word. Her steps filled the silence in the room. And as she closed the door the woman in front of you sighed.

"Difficult woman, isn't she?" Mrs. Gojo let go of the cup shards while hissing. Her mask no longer in tact as she didn't smile anymore.

"Well who isn't?"

She looked at you surprised and then chuckled. "I guess you are right."

On the same day the arrangement was consolidated. It was official.

You will marry Satoru Gojo.

~~

"Suguru, how could this happen? To me?" Satoru whined as he complained to his best friend. "It all has to be a bad joke, right?"

"No, it sounds like a normal thing in jujutsu clans. I'm just confused why you didn't have any saying. You know, as the strongest." Suguru didn't look up from his book as his best friend groaned.

"That's what I'm saying! I don't give a damn about this whole clan thing."

As they were sitting in the park near their mission, they of course already finished not even breaking a sweat, the sun slowly set.

"It is a really bad system. How the clans only strive after power and never consider the lives of their toles." Suguru muttered as he turned the page.

"And now I have to marry a random girl I don't even know!" Satoru groaned again and buried his face in his hands.

"And she has to marry you." Suguru sighed.

Satoru looked at him slightly annoyed. "What do you want to say? Just say it."

"Well, I am sure, she is just as horrified as you at the sound of marriage. I'm just saying you could at least try to get to know her."

"I'm not going there." Stubbornly Satoru shook his head. "Never. I'm not giving them that satisfaction."

Suguru looked up at his friend and now he shook his head. "I pity your soon to be wife."

Offended, Satoru turned to his friend. "Hey! I'm your friend in need here!"

Suguru placed his bookmark gently in his book and then closed it. "Just promise you will show up to the wedding."

Satoru grinned. "Why? You scared of the higher-ups for me?"

"Not for you." He stood up as he looked down at his friend.

"For your wife. If an arranged marriage isn't going well, you know who gets blamed. And what you're doing is just cruel to her."

Gojo didn't say anything as he put on his blindfold.

~

"Do I look pretty?"

You didn't dare be louder than a whisper. "Mother?"

Her sigh gave you confirmation that she wasn't pleased. As she looked you up and down, her frown never disappeared. "As long you don't make that face, it's passable."

She stood up. "For a wedding you look... I just hope your husband will like you at your best."

"Soon to be husband." you corrected her quietly as you looked in the mirror.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She raised a brow but nodded slowly. Then she paced through the room impatiently. "That woman still hasn't given us any signs."

"Mrs. Gojo is probably seating the guests." a little part of you wanted to defend this woman. Your future mother in law.

"Or the groom makes problems again." your mother shook her head, like always when she spoke about the young Gojo.

After he didn't show up to a single meeting, she was sure that Mrs. Gojo didn't raise him right and that she as his mother should be blamed.

It was so pathetic. How you already felt his displeasure, his hatred towards you.

"Mother?"

"What is it?" she was annoyed.

"What was your wedding like?"

...

"Just like this one. It's tradition in our clan." her face was stone cold.

And you felt sympathy for her. She also had an arranged marriage. A wedding in which she didn't have any saying. A husband who she never chose.

"It's the bride's moment." The voice of Mrs. Gojo halled through the room.

Your mother smiled at you. You smiled back.

"Just don't mess it up."

~~

There were too many guests. Mostly people you didn't know. And all of them looked at you, while you made your way to the altar.

Under their stares you felt small.

But there was also this man. This guy with white hair, that stood at the end of your path. This boy that refused to even meet you before the wedding.

He gave you a glance and then continued to stubbornly look straight ahead.

As you stood before him, he didn't seem to be here with his thoughts.

And at this moment you knew he didn't want to marry you. No, you knew that before. But you knew that he would never open up or try to make this work.

And you didn't want that.

"I do."

No, you really didn't. And as he spatted the same words you knew that he was lying too.

~~

"Oh, you lucky girl!" The old woman, you didn't even know, said.

The after ceremony was not nice. All the guests wanted to talk to Gojo and some, not many pestered you. What really stung you was that they made more effort to talk to you than your own husband did.

"To marry such a handsome man." she looked at you and smiled knowingly.

"Of course it's an honor to marry Gojo Satoru as he is an important figure for the jujutsu society." Everything you said sounded like a broken record that lost any meaning.

She chuckled. "You can be honest with me. An heir will be on the way shortly, right?"

You hated this talk about an heir. Hated, hated, hated this people that keep telling you to hurry up and sleep with this man that didn't even look at you.

"We will see."

She laughed at that. And somehow you managed to excuse yourself from the conversation.

The rest of the evening was torture, but you somehow survived. Gojo didn't talk to you. He just disappeared at some point, leaving you alone in the cave of the lions.

His mother was right. He was a difficult person.

You hated that you had to ask around to be driven to his estate. Hated, that he didn't open the door, it was the personal chef that was going to leave. Hated, that you stood alone in this cold house.

He seemed to like to leave you alone. To just go.

You didn't want to sleep at this house. You didn't want to, but where should you go? Where could a place be, where you could hide?

Gojo had places. Not you.

You slept on the couch that evening. Your wedding dress was still on, as you didn't know what in this big house was to wear for you.

~~

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Satoru didn't like to hear that from his best friend, as he stood at his doorstep.

"I just need a place to sleep."

"I said to go to the wedding." Suguru felt like babysitting a toddler.

"And I did."

"Then why are you here? And not with your wife at your house?" Suguru slowly began to lose his patience.

"Can you just let me in, you ass?"

After shaking his head, Suguru opened his door wide enough to let Gojo in.

"Why are you here?" he wasn't going to make it easy for Satoru to forget he left you there.

"Had enough."

"You're such a child." Suguru shook his head. That's what ticked Gojo off.

"Stop it!" He threw his shoes on the floor.

"You can't judge me! Not when you don't know how it feels to have your future stripped from you just because you have been born in this family!"

Suguru kept silent this time.

~~

Your things were shiped to this mansion you should now live in. It wasn't a lot but your necessary clothes. Finally.

Finally you could take the dress off.

The clothing that reminded you that this was real. That your reason in life was already fulfilled and now you should just cease to exist.

No, that wasn't true, was it? You still had to bring an heir.

Will you ever get used to this new prison? You doubt it.

It was so big and cold. So many things but it didn't have this personal touch. It felt empty, unloved. Did Gojo even live here?

Well it seems like he wouldn't if you were here.

It was stupid. You didn't know him, just saw him yesterday for the first time in person. And still it was so clear he wouldn't make it easy for you.

You felt unloved.

"A letter, Mrs. Gojo."

The sudden voice blew you away from your thoughts. Another thing you wouldn't get used to. There were servants for the Clan leader. Like this girl. They were only needed in the kitchen, but it still felt wrong.

And something felt so wrong with being called this name.

"From who?"

The girl before you had a pitiful look. "Your mother." She cleared her throat. "She said, it's about your arrangement."

As you looked down at this paper, it felt like cursed energy was coming from it.

"Oh. Alright, thank you." Hesitating you took the letter.

The girl just nodded and made her way to the kitchen. The silence in this house was haunting.

Again you looked at the letter in your hands, and wished it was only paper. What should you do from now on? How would you spend your life?

Well obviously not with your husband as he wasn't even here.

And you would make sure that he didn't see the letters from your clan.

~~

"You're here." Satoru Gojo didn't seem pleased to see his wife in his house at this evening. Rather displeased, the way he frowned like a little child.

'Well.' you thought. 'That's to damn bad. He should have come to the arrangement hours.'

"Yeah. I have to be."

He didn't even look at you. Humiliation after humiliation. What would your child self say? Seeing that your own husband didn't even look or smile at you? The hopeless romantic would be crushed.

And now they definitely are.

"I see." His voice was barely audible. Oh, what a humiliation this must be for him! The strongest! Not even in control of his own marriage.

You really should pity him. Be understanding. Like the good wife your mother wanted you to be.

But you didn't have the strength to do that. No, you didn't sympathize with this man, that stood in front of you. The one who had the privilege of doing what he wanted till now just because he was blessed. Because he was born a boy.

And you were not.

"My things were brought this morning and Hina showed me around. I already-"

"Who is Hina?" Gojo sounded confused.

"The servant girl. The one who helps to cook?" you couldn't believe him. She even told you that she was working here since 3 years!

"Oh, yeah she. Continue."

You didn't like his tone, you didn't like his attitude, you didn't like that you didn't knew anything about him BECAUSE HE DIDN'T SHOW UP TO ANY-

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you." While trying to keep the bitterness down you started to whisper.

"What?"

As you looked up at him, your mind went blank. For the first time Satoru looked at you. With his big blue beautiful eyes, he looked at you. So mesmerizing that you almost forgot about your bitterness towards him.

Almost.

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you in any mean. We can also eat separately. In fact I would prefer that."

He snorted. "That's childish. Not even eating together."

And that broke the straw. The straw your patience was hanging on sooooo desperately.

"You." you poked his chest with force. "Can't tell me what's childish or not."

Your voice grew a bit. "You can't, not after not attending any meetings, actively trying to get away from me on our wedding day, leaving me alone for our clan people, leaving me alone for the night way to a new house I have to call home now!"

He kept silent. Like all the times you saw him.

"SO EXCUSE ME." You made your way to your room, shouting to make sure he knew what you said.

"IF I THINK MY HUSBAND DOESN'T WANT TO SEE ME AT ALL! AND IF I DON'T WANT TO HAVE MYSELF SUFFER THROUGH IT!"

You slammed the door with force.

You don't think your husband will ever even like you. Or if Gojo would ever even be your husband.

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 1/?)

Silco was at his limit. The last few days had been a whirlwind, made worse by Jinx's eccentricities, which Sevika couldn't control. He was exhausted, his nerves on edge, so, as if it were the most obvious solution, one of his subordinates suggested that he relax… in a brothel. The idea was so offensive that Silco almost killed him right there. But in the end, there he was and unfortunately or fortunately you are the lucky one who will serve him.

Silco x fem!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI) Word Count: 4,9K Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, discussion (a few lines), you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut because the male POV It just hits ✨different✨), an obsessive Silco in the end? Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

I got into my obsessive phase with this man again thanks to the second season of Arcane and I had to turn a conversation with a janitor bot into a fanfic. This is my first time posting something here so I have no idea what I'm doing lol… English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes.

The room reeked of overly sweet flowers, a cloying mixture of perfumes that you never found pleasant but managed to endure. Dressed in a simple white satin gown, which men liked to dismissively call "easy access," you stood behind the curtain, taking deep breaths and trying to hide the trembling in your hands. This wasn’t your first time dealing with difficult clients at the brothel, but this time, it felt different.

Silco.

His name alone was enough to make your breath hitch, and not in a good way. The feared, self-proclaimed leader of Zaun was seated on the couch, his arms draped casually over the backrest while his eye—or rather, his good eye—surveyed the room with evident impatience. You could tell he was irritated, perhaps even more so than the rumors had suggested when he arrived at the brothel. The deep lines on his face seemed sharper under the dim lighting, and he ran his tongue over his lips, muttering something you couldn’t catch.

You knew there was no choice. Refusal would bring consequences far worse than simply losing money. So you swallowed your fear, lifted your chin, and stepped through the curtain with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Your steps were steady, but your heart waged a frenzied battle against your ribcage.

He didn’t seem impressed at first glance, but you could feel his gaze weighing on you as you moved closer. Each step shrank the safety distance between you. Your body moved almost instinctively from there, guided by the muscle memory of your unconventional profession. Carefully, you leaned down, letting yourself settle into his lap. Curiously, Silco showed no visible signs of discomfort, but he didn’t seem particularly engaged either, which only heightened your anxiety.

You assumed he would take the initiative, steering things more directly as clients often did here. The small talk, the courtesies—they always seemed unnecessary in a place like this. Your hands hesitated as they reached his shoulders, finding them rigid at first, but he appeared to relax slightly, sinking back into the sofa with a heavy sigh. It took you another moment to finally find your voice.

“You seem... stressed.”

“Those men aggravate me.” he muttered in response, his voice heavy with frustration, as if exhaustion had seeped into his very soul at that moment.

You nodded as though you understood perfectly. Of course, you didn’t, but you knew how to agree with powerful men without questioning them. Despite the fear that churned within you, you noticed something: he had let you touch him. A rare allowance for someone as reserved and commanding as Silco. The realization was strange, but it made you move your hands more carefully, wanting to prolong his apparent calm.

Silco’s mismatched eyes—one blue, the other orange—scrutinized you with an intensity that made you feel as though he was truly seeing you for the first time. He tilted his head slightly and asked, his tone more curious than cold:

“You haven’t told me your name.”

“Call me whatever you wish,” you replied sweetly, your voice melodious, though only you knew how forced every word felt. Your fingers, braver than your spirit, began tracing subtle lines across his chest, feeling the expensive fabric of his clothing and the warmth of his body beneath it.

“I’m aware of that, but I’d still like to know your name.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you gave him your name. Silco repeated it, testing the syllables on his tongue. Hearing your name spoken by him unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite place—it was strange how easily it rolled off his lips, as though it meant nothing, and at the same time many things. You weren’t sure if he was genuinely interested or if it was just conversational habit, but the fact that he asked stirred something within you.

“It suits you.” he said. From the subtle curl of his lips, you knew he’d noticed your nervousness. “Indulge my curiosity. What brings a woman as beautiful as you to a place like this? Surely, you have dreams that extend beyond satisfying the desires of others.”

Before you could think of a response, Silco's fingers moved to your face, brushing aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen over your shoulder. The touch was slow and soft—almost too intimate for someone like him. The warmth of his fingertips against your skin sent a shiver coursing through your body. Your instinct was to pull away, but you didn’t dare.

Swallowing your hesitation, you leaned slightly into his hand, like a cat seeking affection. Your posture remained controlled, the smile on your lips unwavering.

“Me? Well, I’m like any child of Zaun... I had to find a way to survive, so let’s skip the tragic parts of the story.” Your fingers began to toy with the fabric of Silco’s suit, admiring the quality of the material. It was the kind of fabric you’d never dreamed of owning, let alone touching. “I got lucky with my looks because, honestly, having sex and earning money beats living on the streets.”

You forced a smile as you said the words, trying to project confidence, though the very idea of finding yourself here still felt unreal. What you truly wanted to say was something entirely different: that you hadn’t had a choice. But that part, you kept to yourself.

“Besides, if I hadn’t chosen this path, I would never have had the chance to be here with you.”

It was an empty, contrived line, but you assumed it was what he wanted to hear. That had always been your role—making others feel desired, as though being in their presence was a privilege for you. Deep down, the bitterness of the lie gnawed at you, but you’d long since mastered the art of hiding it.

Silco’s touch, still unexpectedly gentle, lingered on your face, tracing the curve of your jawline with a calmness that seemed to contradict the dangerous aura surrounding him. Every nerve in your body was on high alert as he stayed silent, simply observing you, his fingers mapping your features. You couldn’t ignore the satisfaction he seemed to draw from your hesitation, as though your nervousness was precisely what he wanted to extract.

“I can see why the men of Zaun would pay handsomely for your... company,” Silco murmured, his voice low and deliberate as his fingers trailed down to your lips. “Still, surely you could have found another path. Something that didn’t involve selling yourself to the highest bidder.”

The disapproval in his tone struck like an invisible slap. You blinked, startled, unable to hide the brief flicker of disbelief on your face. Him? The chemical baron who ruled Zaun, questioning your morality? He, who built his fortune by exploiting desperation and chaos through Shimmer? It was almost laughable, but the weight of his words left no room for humor.

“Tell me the truth,” he continued, his voice slow, each word laced with a faint, mocking edge. “Is this what you want? Spending your nights warming the beds of strangers, smiling as they use you for their pleasure?”

Your fingers, which had been toying with the fabric of his suit, returned to your own body, creating the barest sliver of distance between you—though it felt impossible to achieve while still perched on his lap. You briefly considered keeping up the act, retreating to the mask of seduction and sweetness. But something about his tone, the intensity in the look he gave you, made it clear he wouldn’t accept a rehearsed answer.

"You’re hardly in a position to lecture anyone about morality, you know that?" Your voice was steadier now, stripped of the syrupy tones you had wielded before. There was still caution, but also something resembling either confidence or sheer madness. You weren’t entirely sure what was fueling you. "But the truth is, you don’t have much choice when you attract too much attention. Men have this pathetic need to turn anything they desire into property. If I weren’t here, I’d probably be some baron’s plaything... or any other man’s who thought he had that right."

You caught the slight shift in his expression, but you didn’t stop before he could interrupt.

"At least in the brothel, I have a small sense of safety. Here, we protect each other. It’s not ideal, but it’s enough to survive." Your words dripped with a cynicism you wore like armor, but they were genuine. Silco remained silent. "Satisfied?"

His touch grew firmer then, his hand gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. Silco didn’t settle for easy answers, and that kept you on edge. His mismatched eyes bore into yours, as if he could rip the truth from behind your façade by force. For a moment, your body betrayed your mind, trembling under the weight of his focus—or perhaps under the heat radiating from him.

"No," he said softly, his voice laced with an undeniable authority. "I’m not satisfied."

There was something in his tone that both soothed and terrified you. "I recognize value when I see it, and you’re not just a pretty face or a warm body to be used and discarded. You’re a survivor, my dear. And survivors don’t settle for scraps when they could have the entire feast."

Silco leaned closer, his face now so near that you could feel his breath ghosting over your skin. The hand that had been holding your chin slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer. He was invading your space, breaking every boundary you had tried to set before. It should have made you furious, and yet, there was something maddeningly magnetic about his words, his tone. Like a moth drawn to the flame.

"And what if I told you." he murmured, his voice dropping into a husky whisper near your ear, "That I could offer you another path? A way out of this gilded cage you’ve trapped yourself in? All you have to do is say yes."

It was tempting—far too tempting. But you knew better. This was a trap, a carefully spun illusion of power designed to lure you in. Silco wasn’t just a chem-baron; he was a master manipulator, someone who played people like pieces on a chessboard. His hands were stained with blood, and you weren’t going to become one of his victims.

Your shoulders tensed, and your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing lightly as though instinctively trying to create space between you.

"You’re right about one thing," you whispered back, your voice low but carrying a newfound confidence even you didn’t quite recognize. "I’m a survivor, precisely because I don’t trust men like you."

Your nails dug into his shoulders—not to hurt him, but as a way to anchor yourself, to remind yourself that you still had some semblance of control. To keep yourself from faltering under the weight of his presence. After all, few dared to deny Silco, knowing full well he could take whatever he wanted in the end.

"It’d be foolish of me to say ‘yes’ so easily..." you continued, taking a measured breath to steel yourself. "Everyone in Zaun knows that accepting one of your offers is the same as selling your soul to the devil."

Silco's movement, leaning back slightly to return a fraction of space to you, wasn’t a concession—it was a strategy. He was calculating his next move, and you knew it. His gaze remained fixed on you, and despite his apparent calm, you could feel the weight of his stare—heavy, like a verdict. He didn’t like being challenged, especially by someone who, theoretically, had no power to oppose him. Yet, there was something about you, something that even Silco found himself impressed by, if only for a fleeting moment. He seemed to respect your defiance—admiration disguised as frustration, perhaps.

"You're bold, aren’t you?" Silco spoke, almost amused. "Most girls would jump at the chance to be under my protection. But not you. No, you're far too clever for that."

His hand rose again, this time stopping at your throat, where his fingers rested, feeling the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat. It was a gentle touch, but undeniably threatening—a silent warning. And though the sensation was unsettling, it was nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. After all, if he truly wanted to kill you, he would have done so already.

"Allow me to clarify my proposal, dove," he continued, his voice softening in a way that only heightened your distrust. "I’m not offering salvation or a fairy tale ending. I’m offering you a chance to survive, on your own terms. To rise above the squalor and degradation of this place."

His touch shifted, his free hand sliding along your waist, tracing every contour of your body with an unsettling softness. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of your dress, and you knew he could feel the heat of yours just as well. Your body tensed, but you didn’t give in—not even as his hand ventured lower, stopping on your thigh. A shiver ran down your spine, but your mind remained resolute, knowing that any sign of weakness would be an invitation for him to push further.

His tone, now little more than a husky murmur, made the air around you feel heavier, charged with a tension you knew he wielded with mastery. "All I ask in return is your obedience."

His hand, now bolder, slipped beneath your dress, brushing against your bare skin with a touch that felt almost possessive.

You swallowed hard.

"Think carefully," he continued. "Is serving me really worse than being passed from hand to hand, always in danger of being killed like any other cheap whore? At least with me, you’d be valued. Protected."

The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of your breathing, a rhythm that seemed to amplify the rising tension. Silco held the advantage here—he knew it, and so did you. For all your cunning, there wasn’t much you could offer him beyond your defiance. But you weren’t one to yield without a fight. He might have been formidable in many ways, but all men, no matter how imposing, had a weakness. And you knew this weakness well enough.

"My obedience..." you said, your voice soft, dripping with sweet venom. "You already have it… for tonight."

You pressed your body against his, deliberately moving against the part of him he most desired yet had been neglecting. For the briefest of moments, you caught the crack in Silco’s stoic façade, a flicker of pleasure that betrayed him as your slow, deliberate movements sent a surge of heat to his core. Your hips rolled against him provocatively, the thin fabric of your dress bunched high enough to leave almost nothing to the imagination. The lace of your panties pressed against the unmistakable hardness growing beneath his trousers.

"Isn’t this what you came for, after all?" Your voice was a seductive whisper, yet tinged with irony, your tone laced with a hint of mockery. This wasn’t the submissive game you’d been playing earlier. Not anymore. Silco, with all his authority, likely hadn’t anticipated you flipping the cards the way you just had—appealing to something as raw as carnal desire.

You leaned in even closer, your lips brushing his ear, your warm breath sending a shiver through him. "Because I doubt you walked into this brothel looking to recruit a courtesan for your organization... am I wrong?"

Your words seemed to strike a nerve in the feared "Eye of Zaun," as he remained silent for a few moments, though you could feel the tension in his body. His grip on your flesh tightened, almost as if he was holding back. Then, the hand under your dress slid further upward, his fingers brushing against the lace trim of your panties. The touch sent an electric jolt through your veins; it was affecting you just as much as it was affecting him.

"You're playing a dangerous game, dove," Silco murmured, his voice low and laced with warning. "Tempting me with your body, even as you deny me with such effort. It's a risky move."

He leaned closer, just a breath of space separating your faces. "But I suppose that's what I like about you. You're not afraid to dance on the edge of the blade, even if it means getting cut."

Silco’s other hand slid along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair before pulling gently, tilting your head back to expose the curve of your throat. You felt him inhale your scent, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips grazed your skin. "However, don’t mistake my desire for weakness. You may not like the result."

"I have no doubts about that," you quipped, increasing the rhythm of your hips, the friction doing a fine job of making you forget you were dealing with a dangerous criminal. You could feel your panties growing damp. "But that doesn’t matter now, does it?"

With difficulty, you moved your head to face him again, despite the way his hand still gripped your hair. Your own hands wandered across his slender frame, sliding down toward his trousers.

"You’re paying to have me, not to talk." With practiced ease, you unfastened his trousers, your hand slipping past the barriers of his clothing, finally touching him. A gentle stroke, testing… "So let’s make your money’s worth."

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ Silco's Pov

Silco's breath caught in his throat as her hand slid inside his pants, her fingers brushing his hardened length. The sensation was electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing down his spine. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of his underwear, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to buck his hips against her touch. But even as his body responded to her ministrations, Silco's mind remained sharp and alert. He knew she was trying to gain the upper hand, to turn the tables on him by focusing their encounter on base carnal desires. And while he was more than willing to indulge in such pleasures, he refused to let her think she had won. But, he would recognize her cleverness.

With one swift movement, Silco grabbed her wrist, halting her exploration of his cock. He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "Ah ah ah, not so fast, dove," he purred, his voice low and dangerous. "You forget who holds the power here. I'm the one paying for your services, and I'll be damned if I'll let you set the pace."

Silco released her wrist and sat back, his eyes raking over her body with undisguised hunger. "Strip," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I want to see every inch of that gorgeous skin. And then, if you're a good girl, I might let you touch me again."

As she began to comply, Silco allowed his gauze to drift down to the junction between her thighs. He could see the damp spot on her panties, evidence of her arousal, and it made his cock throb with need. But he held himself in check, determined to make her work for her pleasure, even if it becomes an unbearable temptation for both of them.

Once she was fully exposed, Silco reached out and ran his fingers along the edge of her undergarments, teasing her with the promise of his touch. "Now, show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "And maybe, just maybe, I'll give you what you really want."

Oddly enough, that stubborn woman obeyed him without question, living up to what she had said about him having her obedience. The sight of her kneeling naked was sinful, even more so when her curious fingers made quick work of undoing his pants completely. Taking a moment to study his cock, and when Silco opened his mouth to let out a sarcastic comment she finally took him into her mouth.

Silco groaned as her tongue laved along his shaft, the wet heat of her mouth sending jolts of pleasure racing through his veins. He could feel his cock pulsing in her grip, the blood rushing to his groin as his arousal mounted. It took every ounce of his self-control not to simply grab her head and force her down onto his dick, to fuck her pretty face until he painted her throat with his seed.

But he resisted the urge, determined to savor every moment of this exquisite torment. She was skilled with her mouth, he had to give her that. She knew just how to tease and tantalize, to bring him to the brink of madness without pushing him over the edge.

Silco's hands fisted in her hair, his grip tight enough to be uncomfortable but not quite painful. He guided her head as she worked him over, showing her exactly how he liked it. Up and down she went, her lips stretched obscenely around his girth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock.

"Fuck, just like that," Silco sighed with pleasure. "Take it deeper, dove. Show me how badly you want it."

He could feel his balls tightening, his orgasm building at the base of his spine. But he held back, determined to make this last. He wanted to hear she beg for it, to watch her break apart on his cock like the desperate little slut she was.

Silco's hips rocked in time with her bobbing head, his pace increasing as his arousal grew. He could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his core, the pleasure bordering on pain. But still he held back, his iron self-control the only thing keeping him from exploding down her throat. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, Silco yanked she off his cock and hauled her up into his lap. He crashed his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste himself on her lips. His hands roamed her body, groping and squeezing, leaving marks of possession on her soft skin.

The kiss was confusing at first, perhaps because she probably didn't expect him to pull her in for a kiss. However, it didn't take long for her to give in, returning the same intensity. Of course, it would be foolish to think that her wandering hands would remain still since soon Silco could feel her gripping him and rubbing against herself. She had pulled her panties aside as she covered him with her wetness, as if her saliva wasn't enough. When the provocation seemed to last longer than it should, she lined up his tip with her entrance. That woman was going to kill him.

Silco groaned as she sank down onto his cock, her tight heat enveloping him like a vice. The sensation was exquisite, her walls fluttering and clenching around his length as she adjusted to his size. He could feel every inch of her, from the slick, velvety softness of her entrance to the tender spot deep inside that made her gasp and writhe.

His hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises, his fingers digging into her flesh as he guided her movements. Up and down she rode him, her pace growing faster and more erratic as the pleasure built within her. Silco thrilled at the sight of her, head thrown back in ecstasy, breasts bouncing with each thrust of her hips. She was certainly a sight that would stay in his mind for a long time.

He leaned forward and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as he rolled the other between his fingers. She cried out, her back arching as the dual stimulation sent shockwaves of pleasure racing through her body. Silco could feel her walls tightening around him, her body tensing as she neared her peak.

"That's it, dove," he growled against her skin, his voice rough with lust. "Come for me. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock."

Silco's hips snapped up to meet hers, driving his cock deeper, harder, faster. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room, obscene and beautiful all at once. He could feel his own climax building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to bring her over the edge first.

He reached down between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles. The added stimulation was too much for her, and she came with a scream, her body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. And, as if possible, becoming even more beautiful.

Only then did Silco allow himself to let go, his own orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave. He thrust up into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he exploded, his seed painting her insides with its heat. He could feel her milking him, her walls rippling and fluttering around his.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

You collapsed against Silco’s body, utterly spent, as if the world around you had vanished during those feverish minutes. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, and you desperately tried to catch the breath that seemed to have abandoned your lungs. Your body, slick with sweat, still trembled with the remnants of pleasure, involuntary aftershocks that left your overly sensitive skin prickling at the slightest touch. Every muscle felt too heavy to move, leaving you there, trapped between exhaustion and the slow return to reality.

The silence that followed was filled only with the sound of your uneven breathing mingling with his, punctuated by the muffled music, laughter, footsteps, and the occasional moans from other rooms. The brothel was alive, grounding you in where you were, even though the power play that culminated in this moment had momentarily made you forget.

"So..." You lifted your head slowly to meet his gaze, your voice husky and still thick with effort. "Did I please you?" You knew the question would sound like a provocation masked as submission, but you would regret letting the opportunity to tease him slip by so easily.

Silco remained silent for a beat, and then a low, rough chuckle escaped his lips. "Please me? That would be an understatement, dove." he replied, his voice still deep, almost purring. "You exceeded all my expectations."

As he spoke, you felt his fingers rise to your face, brushing aside a strand of hair stuck to your damp skin with a subtle touch. His heterochromatic eyes were locked onto yours, and the moment seemed to stretch on longer than it should have. A part of you wanted to pull away, but something about the intensity of his gaze kept you rooted in place.

His hands slid down your back, fingers tracing the subtle contours of your spine. The heat of his touch sent another shiver through you, your body still far too sensitive. He knew that, of course, and seemed to savor every small reaction he could elicit.

You thought he would push you away, that this moment would end quickly, but he didn’t. Instead, Silco’s lips met yours in a fleeting touch, so brief it could hardly be called a kiss. Then, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as if he were absorbing what had just transpired, what he had just done to you.

"But I’m not done with you yet." he whispered, his voice a dark warning, the echo of something dangerous. Something you should fear.

But you laughed in response.

"I was hoping you’d say that," you teased, slowly shifting your position on his lap, feeling your muscles protest against the movement.

The smirk playing on your lips was wicked as you took in the state of him. Though still clothed, his appearance was far from composed. His trousers, carelessly undone, were wrinkled and disheveled, while his previously immaculate hair was a tousled mess. And those eyes—still hazy, swimming in lust—watched you with an intensity that sent a thrill down your spine. He was chaos incarnate, and you felt absurdly proud of being the one to unravel him.

"However..." You slid off his lap with the same provocative grace that had carried you through the entire evening, your body still trembling faintly from the lingering sensations. "I believe you'll have to pay again if you want to see me next time... Our time is up." You felt his cum, as well as yours, slide down your thighs as you sank into the spot next to him on the couch, but you didn't really care about cleaning it up. The only shred of decency you had was fixing your panties. 

Even with nothing but your undergarments covering your skin, you made a point of turning this moment into something that would haunt Silco’s mind—a small finale, pure provocation.

Silco remained seated for a moment, his intense gaze never straying from you. There was something in his eyes—a possessive glint, almost feral. It was as though he wanted to say something, to act, but with an admirable display of restraint, he held back.

You watched as he reached into his pocket, retrieving a wad of bills. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed them onto the table in the corner.

"Consider that a bonus for your... exceptional service."

Rising from the couch, he began adjusting his clothes with mechanical precision. His nimble fingers fastened the zipper on his trousers and smoothed the creases in his suit. The final touch was the swift motion of his hands taming his disheveled hair, each strand returning to its rightful place. With every deliberate move, Silco reclaimed the aura of the man who commanded fear and respect across all of Zaun.

When he reached the exit of the room, he paused. He didn’t turn completely but tilted his head just enough for the warm orange glow of his eye to catch the dim light.

"I have a feeling we’ll see each other very soon, dove." Part2

[pomefioredove]

Can I pretty please have The housewardens (Plus Ruggie and Rook) with a kawaii metal singer? Like soft feminine voice and cutesy outfits and then on stage is just death screaming and gets embarrassed because apparently "Guys find it embarrassing when fem people metal scream."

interesting... I'll see what I can do!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kawaii metal singer

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, ruggie, azul, kalim, vil, rook, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral but implied feminine in the way they dress, reader is not specified to be yuu

imagine having a conversation about music with Riddle

he's pleasantly surprised!

he thought he had nothing in common with you

but you're a musician!

to him, mastering an instrument is akin to mastering a subject or acing an exam

and he'll talk your ear off about his favorite composers and concertos

of course, he's curious about what you play

so, you show him a song

and he's...

...well...

it's... music, he supposes

it takes the same skill to play (perhaps even more?) so he's still impressed. just... surprised!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona's reaction? yawn

a musician is just like a theater kid with a weapon

based on the way you dress, he can already guess

piano? pop? wannabe indie?

undoubtedly something upbeat and fast

that he has no interest in

it's not until he starts hearing the whispers that he gives it a second thought

funny enough, it's the other boy's dislike that draws him in

and, oh, was he wrong

the first time Leona hears you screaming, he's smitten

you've got some voice on you, that's for sure

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ruggie already associates femininity with strength

(whether you're girl or not, mind you)

so, he's not really taken aback or 'nothin

you show him a clip of one of your performances, and his reaction is more like:

"Cool. Nice chords. What's for dinner?"

he knows that not everyone is gonna see it that way

but to him, it's nothing to write home about

...unless he thinks you're gonna be a good provider for him

then he might tell his grandma he's bringing you home for break

"How much do you singers make, anyway?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul was captivated from the start

when Jade came back to him with intel on you, he wasn't expecting you to be a singer

how intriguing...

Azul is a musical person himself, so, of course he was curious

but it's not until he tries to strike a deal with you that he realizes he was very, very wrong

your voice in exchange for anything you desire...

...and you start laughing at him

"my voice? do you know what I sing?"

Azul is a little taken aback by your reaction

now, what's so funny?

eventually, you share a little of your work, and he...

...well, he's impressed, that's for sure

it takes a lot of vocal training to be able to do that

but unless Floyd takes up a new hobby, he has no use for a metal singer's voice

so, for now, he'll simply admire your talent from afar

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

People tend to see Kalim as this witless little flower who can't be exposed to anything "scary"

and, sure, he can be naive at times

but it actually takes a lot to freak him out

he's also been hanging out with Lilia Vanrouge for two years, so, you know

he'd just be impressed, if anything

"Wow, that's so cool! I wish I could do that, but my voice can't go that high, and Jamil doesn't want me to hurt my throat..."

I mean, really impressed

he'll beg you to show him all of your songs

and he might try to get you to one of his club meetings, too

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is more like,

"Well, I hope you're taking adequate care of your throat. You'll overexert yourself if not,"

...so, no

he's not even phased by it

Vil is a performer himself, after all

he's more concerned with your physical and mental wellbeing than you being "embarrassing"

the next day, he'll show up at your door with an armful

this is for your throat, this will keep your skin from drying out under the lights, this foundation is designed for stage...

he's always been generous, after all

and he certainly won't accept no for an answer

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

similarly, Rook doesn't think anything of it

he's simply taken by you

...your devotion, your energy, your heart!

sometimes he, too, feels like screaming for his passions!

you can expect him to be your number one fan

and be at each of your performances, whether small or big, on stage or just in your room

(whether you know he's there or not)

he always seems to know just what to get you, though. tea with honey? salt water for your throat?

he's thought of it before you even have to ask

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is fangirling over it before he even meets you

listen, in his defense-

one of his favorite animes is about a kawaii metal singer!

and he was already familiar with the genre, anyway

so... no, it's not weird to him

if anything, he feels weird for never being able to talk to you about it

it's basically like talking to one of his idols IRL

whether you're a well-known performer or just make videos online is irrelevant to him

you'll be receiving a lot of anonymous donations from someone named gloomurai

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

when Lilia makes an offhand comment about your music, Malleus is intrigued

you'd never mentioned being a musician, after all

the next time you see each other, he asks

but, much to his confusion, you seem... embarrassed?

he quickly explains he only heard it from Lilia, and didn't mean to offend you, and-

ah...

that's why you're embarrassed?

you think he won't like you because others have said it's unbecoming?

humans are so strange, he thinks

it's only music, after all. it'd take much more to make him dislike you

besides, this is Lilia's foster son we're talking about. he's been exposed to every genre at least once

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 2

02 : THANK YOU

SUM. : you thank your heroes with home made lunch at their work place, leaving with a temporary tattoo and three men wrapped around your little finger.

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist sirius ; tattoo artist james ; piercer remus ; innocent reader ; all three are smitten with you ; all three also being casually dominant with you ; sweetheart reader x rough tough men is the trope! ; prepare to be as obsessed as i am over these men! ; marauders with tattoos and piercings are hot

LENGTH. : 2.6k

PREV. : 01 | RESCUE

“Well there’s a familiar face,” Remus greets with a smile as you step into the shop. You timidly smile back and wait for him to wave off a customer with their care kit before stepping forward with your heavy tote strung over your shoulder, “do you have an appointment for a tattoo or a piercing?” he asks, eyes trained on the tablet at the front desk. 

“Oh, no no,” you bashfully stammer, “I’m not here for any of that, I’m scared of needles,” 

“That’s a shame,” Remus contemplates and you look up to see him leaning over with a thoughtful look, his elbows on the counter as one hand holds his chin up - he’s so handsome. He has several piercings decorating his ears and an eyebrow piercing to accentuate the angles of his brows. As he moves his chin off his palm to caress it in contemplation, he continues to take you in as you also take the opportunity to admire some of the tattoos on his arms. There are some phrases in different fonts, an impressive vision of a wolf with a full moon and a minimalist set of the moon phases alongside much more, “you’d look good with cute little piercings on your ears,” he finally comments, reaching out to point at your ear. 

“Th-thank you,” you subconsciously reach up and touch your ear, his statement making you briefly consider his suggestion.

“So what are you here for if not for a piercing or tattoo?” straightening up into his full height, Remus lets a light scowl take over his face, “Is that bastard troubling you again?”

“It’s alright, don’t worry, I told my manager and he’s been banned from the pub I work at so I haven’t had anymore bad encounters,” 

Remus smiles at your precious appearance, you really look adorable being all timid in front of him, “I’m glad,” his voice is warm and comforting, different to the roughness brought on by the ink on his arms. He was dressed in a white shirt under a sleeveless brown sweater vest, high-waisted, tailored pants with the bottoms just about reaching his Doc Martens - he’s a good balance of soft but edgy. It’s a unique charm of his, you gather.

“I-I just wanted to say thank you to you guys,” you gesture to your tote bag, “so I made you some lunch, I hope that’s okay…” 

“Free lunch, home cooked by the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen?” Sirius interrupts, stealing your attention as he appears from a corridor to your left with a boyish grin. He reaches for your hand and brings your knuckles up to his lips for a soft kiss, “what an honour,”

Your cheeks heat up incredibly at the gesture, “it’s really nothing, you guys saved me last night, it’s the least I could do,”

Sirius smiles down at you and after sharing a look with Remus he begins to lead you down the same corridor he had just appeared from, “well, you have the most perfect timing, darling because it’s a slow day and almost our lunch break,”

“I’ll tell James and help him finish up with his last client for the day. We’ll see you in a bit,” Remus announces as he flips the sign at the door to ‘CLOSED’. You wanted to protest and say that you didn’t want to waste too much of their time but the mousy haired piercer smiled and that was enough reassurance for you to hold your tongue. 

“Let’s go love,” Sirius leads you down a corridor to a room with rock posters and varying pieces of art decorating the wall as sofas lined half of the walls with varying aesthetics, one was very much distressed but still cosy looking, as the other was of a sleek, black leather. Thankfully, there was a pretty large coffee table that you could set your tote bag on and slowly began to take out the food you had cooked. On the distressed sofa behind you, Sirius admired your tentative figure and appreciated your stark difference in aesthetic to the room around you. Your style fits close to Remus although more feminine and carefree. There was a cosy structure to Remus’s fashion but with your long flowing white skirt, chiffon blouse and delicate jewellery, you embodied a breath of fresh air under the summer sun, “what a beauty,” Sirius says to himself, arms resting along the back of the sofa as you finally settled down.

Thinking he meant the food in the tupperware, you smile, “you like the food already?”

“I’m talking about you, darling, although the food does look delicious,” Sirius chuckles under his breath as you timidly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Th-thank you but really, I hope you like the food,” 

“I’m sure I will,” silence slowly permeates the space between you as you wait for Remus and James but it was still comfortable, not awkward at all. In that time, you both take in each other’s appearance. Sirius wears a white tank that clings to his toned figure and ends just under his belly button, showcasing a majority of the tattoos that embellish his skin. He’s also in black jeans and a pair of worn combat boots. The tattoos on his arms and those that peak out from his torso and chest don’t have a visible theme but they all still go together somehow. There are many unknown symbols and long winded sentences written decoratively around said symbols and the occasional elaborate illustration. There are some doodles dedicated to music, some to inside jokes you would guess and you want to ask questions but you bite your tongue. You didn’t want to be rude. 

“Curious?” Sirius asks, having noticed your wandering eyes and smiling at your kitten-like interest. 

“A little bit…”

“Ask away,”

When James and Remus finally join the two of you a few minutes later, they see you fully turned towards Sirius on the sofa, eyes focused on a tattoo on his chest that he was explaining the meaning of, catching you in a trance with his voice. The tattoo artist has his tank top moved down and to the side as you absentmindedly reach your hand up to his tattoo, almost tracing the ink on his skin with your delicate fingers. From the grin on Sirius’s face and the love-eyes he was watching your face with, they could tell he was smitten with you, which was rare. Sirius was very much a ladies man but you’ve managed to rope him in with hardly any effort put in. Remus doesn’t blame his friend, though, you’re very captivating. 

The chuckle from both Remus and James pulls your attention away from Sirius who smirks up at them, unbothered by their interruption.  

“I heard a pretty lady was treating us to some home made lunch today,” James eagerly sits down in the space beside you as Remus sits atop the far right of the coffee table. 

“Y-yeah, I hope you like it, please dig in,”

“Don’t mind if I do!” James cheers and promptly consumes his share of food, giving the occasional groan of satisfaction from the taste in his mouth, “Sho good!”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Remus corrects with an amused smile before turning to your with an appreciative grin, “Thank you, truly, (Y/N), I was getting tired of take out,”

“Home cooking is the best,” Sirius groans from your other side, already half way through his share, which makes you giggle in happiness. Your heart swells with joy knowing that you could properly thank your heroes. Speaking off, you finally get to admire James in better lighting than the street lamps. He isn’t nearly as decorated with ink as Sirius but there was a pretty illustration of a stag on his forearm that you admired. You hadn’t wanted to feel awkward so you brought some lunch for you too and ate alongside the trio, stealing secret glances at James who remained oblivious, too engrossed in his food. He’s in much cosier attire compared to Srius and Remus. Hanging from his broad shoulders was an oversized, faded shirt and washed-out jeans with the bottoms rolled up to showcase his high converse shoes. Framing his face was a charming pair of round glasses and, matched with his unruly curls and tattoos, made him a pictured balance of casual and wild that suits only him.

Lunch passes and James was the first to finish between the trio, quickly proceeding to pull puppy eyes at his two friends in a soft plea for them to surrender some of their food to him but they firmly decline. 

“I’m not letting you have some of my lunch just because you finished yours too quickly,” Sirius huffs, pulling his tupperware closer to him. 

“Sorry Prongs,” Remus laughs, “those puppy eyes aren’t going to work on me, our dove’s cooking is too good to share,”

Unable to resist James’s pouting face, you hold up a spoonful of your meal, “it’s okay James,” you bring your spare hand to sit under the spoon and move it to James’s lips, “here, say ‘ahh’,”   

With a boyish, golden-boy grin, James happily accepts the mouthful and moans in happiness, chewing away like a happy squirrel. Enjoying his glee so much, you happily feed him the rest of your lunch, saying that you were already far too full to eat any more so that Remus and Sirius didn’t scold James too much. It was partially true though because seeing James eating was enough to make you feel full already. 

Once done, you set aside the tupperware and was completely unprepared for when James kissed your cheek as thanks for feeding him the rest of your lunch, “you’re too kind, angel, thank you,” he whispers into your ear, his breath brushing against your sensitive skin and sending a shiver down your spine. You could only muster a timid nod in response. 

When lunch ended, casual conversations started which slowly divulged into the boys wanting to give you a temporary tattoo as thanks. You wanted to protest the redundancy of their actions but were quickly convinced by the verbal pleas of Sirius and James as Remus simply stared at you with interested eyes.

“What tattoo would you like, doll?” Sirius asks, smiling at your pondering face. You're far too cute for your own good.

“Surprise me!” you finally chirp, missing the roguish grin the three men share. 

Not too long after, you were brought into a room with a computer connected to a specialised printer against one wall of the room. Remus and Sirius immediately move to prepare the temporary tattoo on the screen and set up the printer while James leads you to the tattoo bed in the middle of the room. 

“This can fold into a chair but that’s a bit of a hassle right now, do you mind sitting on the bed instead?” James asks as you shake your head and reassure that it’s alright. He loves how compliant you are and watches for a moment as you struggle to get on the high bed before offering assistance, “May I?” his hands hesitates just before they reach your figure but you pay his touch no mind and nod, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders as he secures his hold on your waist. With a small countdown, James lifts you onto the tattoo table with hardly any effort. 

Shuffling back, you smile up at James who remains taller than you on the table as he stands between your thighs, “Thank you, James,” the tattoo artist smiles when you say his name but frowns at the distance you’re sitting at the table. 

“No worries sweetheart but you we need you a little closer than that,” without another word, James grips your thighs with his large hands and pulls you with some force to sit closer to the edge of the table, which also pulls a surprised squeal from your lips, “sorry sorry,” James chuckles softly his hands still on your thighs and shudders at your proximity when he looks down to see your skirt bundled up, accentuating how close your hips were to his. Stepping away, James tidies up your skirt as you giggle and thank him once more for his assistance. He smiles at you before being called over to the computer, trading places with Sirius. 

“Where would you like your temporary tattoo, love?” he asks gently, opening a packet of sanitising wipes as the sound of the printer starts and whirrs in the background. 

“Hmmm…even though it’s temporary I want it to be easily hidden,”

“Such a shy princess aren’t you?” Sirius comments with a smile, “it’s so cute,”

Ignoring his comment, you rush to think of the perfect place for the tattoo and distract from your racing heart, “how about here?” you point to your chest, just above your breasts and below your collarbone. Sirius immediately recognises the placement and raises an amused brow. 

“Like my tattoo?”

You timidly smile, “yes please,”

“Very good choice,” Sirius praises playfully as pride swells within his chest, “but we need to get to that spot first, love,” you look down at your blouse and curse under your breath. 

“Umm…” you try to pull down the collar but it was a small cut and the fabric resists. The temporary tattoo finishes printing and Remus approaches the table with James to see you struggling with your blouse.

“Where does she want it?” James asks as Remus carefully holds the small tattoo. 

“Where mine was,” Sirius points to just below his collar bone, “but her blouse is in the way,”

Remus nods and approaches you, “that blouse is going to have to come off, dove,” his brown eyes watches you gnaw at your lip, it’s a hesitance he’s familiar with so he knows what to do, “don’t worry, you have nothing to be scared of, okay?” he gives you a warm smile when you look up at him and soon feel assured enough to untuck your blouse and pull it over your head, “good girl,” he praises with the same soft tone. You feel silly, these men give tattoos and pierce people’s skin, you’re sure that they’ve seen plenty of shirtless women in only their bras. Remus especially…he’s an expert piercer and has probably been asked to pierce lady parts that weren’t…very common.

“I’ve got to prepare your skin, love,” Sirius holds up the wipe and once you confirm exactly where you wanted the tattoo again, he wipes the area clean. Your skin is soft and slightly bouncy as it leads down to your breasts that makes the tattoo artist wipe at your skin a little longer than normal. After Sirius finishes prepping your skin and letting it dry, Remus steps up and applies the tattoo as best as he can without wrinkles. He swipes over the tattoo with his fingers and smiles at the handiwork. Beside him, Sirius and James admire the temporary ink, all three internally screaming at what you had let them ink you with.   

“Wait a full hour before you peel off the applicator,” Remus gently instructs, “and try to avoid sweating or showering for the next 6 hours okay?” you nod and Remus pats your head in approval with a contented hum. You put your blouse back on and let James help you down, laughing brightly when he raises you up high and spins you in the air before he finally sets you down, laughing alongside you. 

The boys still have a business to run so you collect your empty tupperware and wave the three goodbye before hurrying home, excited to see what tattoo they had given you as they were adamant at keeping it a surprise from you. When you finally arrived home and got a hold of a mirror, you examined the tattoo with your blouse off and felt your cheeks gradually heat up as you trace the differing fonts of the three names decorating the space beneath your collarbone. 

Their names in their handwriting. James, Sirius, Remus.

NEXT : 03 | GROCERIES

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

A/N : i'm becoming more and more obsessed with this au - i couldn't stop writing! if i'm going down, im bringing your darlings with me! no survivors allowed! maybe i'll make a part 3? i don't know yet. again, i've added additional tags of the people who have expressed interest in more parts for the timestamp. tell me your thoughts, lovelies!

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins ; @astonishment ; @until-i-found-you ; @goodoldfashionedluvergirl ; @tiensmamains ; @manical-heaven ; @ch3rry-pops ; @unholyhuntress ; @animeluvr99 ; @peppers-library ; @thepowerthismanhasoverme ; @buck-fics ; @bohemian-lavender-girl

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍

SYNOPSIS: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 who according to the sacred tradition of his peaople kiddnaps his bride. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x Female! Reader tw. kiddnaping, mention of blood, general lack of consent (becaouse history says screw it), mayhem. WRITER DISGRESSION: I do not support this kind of behaviour! It is only a piece of fiction and and for entertaiment putpooses only. Thank you for your attention!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was a sacred tradition among his people, passed down from generation to generation in his clan. Filled with adrenaline and led by primitive instincts, the soon-to-be groom/husband kidnaps his future bride and wife from her home. 

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 were traditionalists when it came to domestic life and topics related to love. He believed his ancestors and their ways of ‘wooing’ their subjects of affection were not only successful but also the truest form of confessing one’s feelings for their beloved.

Perhaps only taking you from home in the dead of the night would be better for an outsider like you, who is yet to understand the way of his people. But whenever he thought about it, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 was holding a belief that you deserved better. Something memorable and "romantic," quoting the wives in his village.

That is why he didn't hesitate to raid your village at night.

Dressed in his best furs and leather, additional beads attached to his long, messy hair, and all sorts of accessories tied to his clothes symbolizing his impressive position among his clan. He was at the front, proudly riding his trusted stallion and leading the group of his best warriors on galloping horses towards where you were residing.

Not soon after they'd arrived, everything was set on fire. The barbarians didn't spare a hut from the unforgiving force of nature of their torches. Even some unfortunate fellas couldn't escape from it. Some fortunate ones were given a quick death by the sharp blades of barbarians. 

It was the mayhem, gifted to you by 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧.

“Oh my dearest wife, where are you?” He kept thinking, urgently looking all around. Adrenaline and euphoria were pumping in his veins. He was a predator on a haunt, ready to pounce on you the moment he saw you. 

And found you he did.

The second he laid his eyes on you, he got into an action. Without hesitation, he quickly urged his horse to gallop towards you. It didn’t matter who he tramped on his way, nor who he slayed to get closer to you. His full focus was placed on you.

You stood no chance.

When he was close enough, like a hawk, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 swiftly leaned down and tightly gripped your waist, hoisting you up on his horse like you weighed nothing. You began to scream and trash in his iron hold, but it didn't phase him one bit. In his eyes, it was endearing and even arousing. He knew from the stories of the other married man that the more a woman puts on a fight, the better wife she’ll be. 

"Shhh...beloved...shhh!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 cooed, fervently kissing away your tears and wet cheeks and holding your hands tightly to his broad chest. Some of the blood splattered on his face he smeared on your snot coated face by nuzzling into you. Between whispering sweet nothings to you and coating your face and neck in his kisses, he couldn't help but laugh. His deep and raspy voice came rumbling from his chest, only frightening you further.

For 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 everything was perfect. Under the night sky, surrounded by flames (of his passion) and screams of villagers mixed with the mad laughter of his people, he achieved what he wanted. He gave you a grand and memorable ceremony. Additionally, in the eyes of his gods, clan and according to the sacred tradition, he laid his claim on you.

You were his, just like he was yours.

"You're mine, dearest wife. Mine!"

Forever.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[nataliasquote]

Double the trouble | Yelena’s day | n romanoff

Double the trouble AU

Summary: it’s finally Yelena’s turn to babysit the twins… a big responsibility for a usually messy Russian.

Age: 4

Warnings: none

wc: 4.3k

note: Double the trouble is back! The twins are back, and so is the cuteness. Sorry for making you wait so long!

-⧗-

“Mama’s got to go, Y/n.”

“Mama go, Y/n go!”

Why was she even arguing with a four year old at this point? Natasha was crouched by the front door, her work purse resting against her calf as she held onto a whiny four year who was pouting hard.

“Aunty Yelena is coming today, you’re going to have so much fun!” Despite how animated her voice was, Y/n was not impressed and she pushed herself further into Natasha’s arms, grabbing the collar of her suit jacket in her little fists. “Come on baby, please.”

“No!” Great. She was still in the ‘no’ phase, much to the moms’ disdain. “No Lena, only you!”

Natasha sighed and stood back up, absentmindedly smoothing over her daughter’s curls as she looked over to the kitchen. Yelena was going to be there any minute and Wanda was packing the last few snack items into her purse whilst Isla showed her a drawing she’d done for her favourite aunt. She was a lot more accepting of extended family members and had been babbling about Yelena’s visit for weeks… until Y/n threw a barbie at her head.

With a sigh, Natasha hauled Y/n up to sit on her hip and wandered into the kitchen with a soft smile at her wife who looked so gracious in her red summer dress.

“Any word from Yelena?” She asked, holding Y/n tight. “This one isn’t too happy we’re leaving.”

Wanda approached the pair and kissed her daughter’s head, laughing a little at her scowl. “Should be any minute now, I hope,” she replied. “Do you girls want a snack?”

“Fruit roll ups?” Y/n was now suddenly interested, her head lifting from the comfort of Natasha’s shoulder. Ever food orientated, she was.

“I want fruit roll ups too!” Isla chimed in, finally putting her markers down as she added the finishing touches to her drawing. “Strawberry one?”

“I’m sure I can manage that,” Wanda said as she turned around from the cupboard, two snacks in hand. Y/n wriggled out of Natasha’s grip and ran over, but not before Wanda instructed her to sit at the table like normal. Snacks were never eaten standing up in their house, it was the paranoid mothers’ number one rule.

Natasha checked her watch anxiously, watching her time slip away as she waited for her sister. Punctuality wasn’t Yelena’s strong suit, but as the clock struck ten, there was a loud knock at the door and Natasha was pulling it open before the twins could even react.

“Where are my munchkins?” The loud blonde announced, tossing her bag by the door and completely ignoring Natasha as she stepped inside. But the redhead was used to people bypassing her and Wanda to get to the twins, she knew how gorgeous her daughters were.

“Hello to you too… again,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than her sister who was too busy trying to call the twins as if they were dogs.

Isla was the first to greet her favourite aunt, her arms and legs flailing as she launched her small body at the blonde Russian, giggling as she was caught and spun around. Y/n was still chewing away at her snack but she watched their interaction from her seat, shaking her head at Wanda’s offer to go and see.

Y/n was bubbly until she was around anyone who wasn't her moms. Then she clammed up, often ducking behind her curls to avoid eye contact or hiding behind Natasha’s legs if she was close by. She didn’t trust anywhere near as easily as Isla did and was always the last one to approach.

“Y/n? Doesn’t Aunty Lena get a hug?”

Y/n’s eyes darted between her Mama and her Aunt, debating hard. With some reluctance, she slid off her chair and wandered over to Yelena, but only for Natasha’s benefit. The last thing she wanted was her Mama getting mad at her over not cooperating… again.

“What are you eating?” Yelena asked, gesturing to the small piece of food still clutched in the young girl’s hand.

“We had fruit roll ups!” Isla exclaimed, grinning widely at Yelena’s animated expression.

“No way!” Even Y/n was smiling now, waving her snack up at Yelena. “I loved them as a kid!”

Natasha smiled fondly at the scene in front of her. She knew how much Isla loved Yelena, she babbled on enough as it is, and she also knew of Y/n’s hesitancy. But seeing her now, almost completely out of her shell, talking over the top of her sister in an attempt to hold Yelena’s attention, Natasha felt pride blooming in her chest and she wished to capture this moment forever.

Wanda appeared at her side, her smile mirroring her wife’s as she took her hand. “Ready to go?”

Natasha nodded and squared her shoulders in her fitted suit jacket. “Yelena, we’re going to be late. Do you have everything you need? We’ll be back at 6, there’s lunch in the fridge, all you need to do is heat it up. And don’t let Y/n run too much because she has her heart check up next week- oh and Isla can’t have raspberries because she’s allergic so don’t-“

“Yes yes,” Yelena waved her off, effectively pushing her sister out of the door. “You worry too much, we’ll be fine, won’t we girls?” Isla cheered and Y/n copied, luckily too engrossed with her sister to notice her moms were leaving.

“If anything happens, I mean anything, call me and we’ll be back as soon as we can.” Natasha was a typical worried mother and she hated leaving her girls alone, even if they were in the questionably capable hands of Yelena.

“Nat, honey, they’re going to be okay,” Wanda tried to reassure, rubbing her hand up and down her wife’s arm. “It’s only a few hours and you need this deal to go through. You deserve it baby.”

Natasha bit her lip, watching the twins who were running around chasing each other in the hallway. She so desperately wanted to stay with them as much as she could before they started kindergarten, but her business in the city was for a deal with a bank that would allow her to open up her very own dance studio, as opposed to the small rented rooms she was currently using. It was her dream and she couldn’t give it up now.

“I know, I know,” the redhead muttered, more to convince herself than anyone else. With a final smile from Wanda, the couple disappeared down the driveway and used the twins’ moment of distraction to make a tear-free getaway.

“Right, rascal 1, rascal 2, who wants to go to the park?” Yelena clapped her hands together as the door shut and the girls halted in their steps.

“Me! I got the wiggles!” They chorused.

“Well we need to get those wiggles out, don’t we!”

Yelena inspected their outfits and quickly concluded that their matching dungarees was an appropriate park choice. She would never admit it to Natasha, but she’d been reading books and online articles ever since Natasha asked her to babysit. Making a good impression was the one thing the blonde wanted so desperately, and she was determined to make sure everything went right.

After tying both pairs of converse to two sets of small feet and retying one of the pigtails in Isla’s hair, Yelena checked her backpack for her supplies and they were ready to go. It was an indescribable feeling to have her nieces clutching her hands as they walked down the street and Yelena finally understood how her sister had such a hard time leaving her daughters.

Isla babbled away for the whole ten minute walk, mainly talking about Fanny and how she wished she was here with them. Y/n listened happily, more than content just fiddling with the rings on her aunt’s fingers as they stopped at a crossing. It had been a month since they’d last spent time with their aunt and almost a year since their first meeting, and Y/n had definitely warmed up to her in that time. Which gave Yelena immense pride and huge bragging rights.

The sun really had chosen the right day to shine and Yelena made sure both girls were lathered in sunscreen before she allowed them to run free, laughing as they both made a beeline for the swing. Isla climbed up on the horse shaped seat just beside the swing set easily, her giggles echoing through the park as it began to move.

Y/n didn’t have quite the same luck. She couldn’t quite reach the swing she wanted and turned back to Yelena with a pout, her hands grabbing at the plastic.

“Hold on malyshka, I’m coming.” The blonde ran over and scooped up her youngest niece, tickling her stomach a little before slotting her legs in the holes of the swing. Y/n’s pout disappeared as quickly as it appeared and she chanted ‘higher’ as Yelena gently pushed her.

Yelena didn’t let her go too high, but she watched as Y/n stretched her legs out in front of her and lifted her arms, almost as if she was flying.

“L’Isla look!” She yelled at her sister. “I’m flying! I’m a birdie!”

Isla looked for a moment but was far too invested in her own activities to care too much, so Y/n just kept shouting for Yelena to push her higher, to which her aunt obeyed.

They were content on the swings for a while until Y/n got distracted by the slide. Yelena was grateful to give her arms a break, even though she’d have pushed her nieces for hours if they’d have asked. Taking a seat on the bench beside the slide, she watched as the energetic four year olds ran around and slid down the slide, wriggling the whole way down.

It was adorable the way they played together, often hand in hand as they circled the giant wooden structure. Isla always climbed up first before helping her sister up the last section, taking her ‘big’ sister duties very seriously.

“Aunty Lena, watch!” Y/n yelled, holding onto the red handle by the little slide as she tapped her feet together. “I’m gonna go fast!”

“I’m watching, little bug, go on.”

Y/n let go and slid down, stopping at the bottom with a grin as Yelena clapped. She raced over, breathing hard, and grabbed her little water bottle to take a sip.

“That was very impressive,” Yelena said, taking the bottle from Y/n when she was done. “Look, let’s watch Isla now.” She put her arms around Y/n’s stomach and held her in place as they watched Isla slide down before she too came running over, asking for her water.

“Have you both been practising your slides?” Isla nodded between sips.

“Mommy takes us to the park after pre-k.”

“And she gets us ice cream.” Y/n flashed a cheesy grin, trying to win over Yelena even more than she already had.

“Well, if we see the ice cream truck, then maybe.” A chorus of ‘yay’s sounded and Yelena felt like the coolest aunt on the planet. It didn’t matter that the girls already loved her to pieces, every time they smiled at her it thawed her heart and she was sure that one day she would be charged with kidnapping for stealing them both. If she barely coped with them now, prom night and graduation would hit her like a truck.

“Can we go play again?” Y/n asked, bouncing on her toes like she was eager to run off. Yelena gave them the all clear and she sprinted away with Isla yelling her name as they approached the climbing frame. Y/n scrambled up the smaller side and whizzed down the slide before Isla could stop her.

“Y/n!” Isla yelled, running back over to her sister who was sat at the bottom of the slide. “You can’t run!” She tapped her sister’s chest where her heart was before taking her hand and dragging her back to the steps. “Slowly. Mommy always says slowly.”

“I just want to play,” she huffed, placing her palm on her chest. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll tell Mommy!” Isla didn’t really understand what she was supposed to tell Wanda, but the threat was enough and Y/n walked away scowling to find the sand pit. It was slightly sludgy from the rain a few days ago so she wandered around the park again before going back to Isla and giving her a hug.

“You play on the bridge with me?”

“Only if I get to be the pirate!”

“I’ll be mermaid.”

Yelena watched from her spot on the bench, her phone resting in her hand as she filmed the girls playing. The park was relatively empty, only three other children were playing. But they looked older than the twins and so kept to themselves, which the blonde was grateful for. She wasn’t all that trusting of other people’s kids.

There was something relaxing about watching them play. It took her mind off everything else and every time the girls flashed her a smile she felt herself soften. Her sister really had won the family lottery and she felt so grateful to be an established part of their lives as they grew up. Swearing off having kids forever, this was the only way Yelena would purposefully interact with children and she was totally okay with that. The best thing about her nieces was that she could spoil them as much as she wanted and then let her sister deal with the inevitable sugar rush that followed.

An hour went by before Y/n and Isla trudged over once more, significantly more dishevelled than they were before. Long gone were the pigtails, their curls now wild about their shoulders, the colour almost matching their rosy cheeks.

“Did you have fun?”

“I think I got a rock in my shoe,” Y/n whined, standing on one leg like a flamingo. Isla went to sit on the bench as Yelena sorted out Y/n’s shoe, shaking the pieces of gravel that were stuck to her sock. “Ice cream?”

“I don’t think the ice cream truck is here, malyshka,” Yelena admitted, her heart breaking at their disappointed faces. “But we can get some at home, how does that sound?”

“I don’t want to go home!” Isla pouted, folding her arms in a little tantrum. Y/n copied her, leaning against Yelena as she stood between her legs. “Want to stay here forever!”

“Are you guys not hungry? All that running around, I’m sure your bellies are grumbling at you.” To prove her point, she tickled Y/n’s stomach, mainly to hear more of the adorable giggles she loved so much.

After some reluctance and agreement that cookies will be provided with lunch, they made the slow walk home. Y/n was dragging her feet, begging to be carried despite Yelena saying no. She couldn’t carry both of them, even if it was evident how tired Y/n was.

To brighten their mood, she started singing an old Russian song, making everyone march in time with her singing as they turned down the final street. The twins had no idea what she was singing about but their spirits were lifted and they marched happily, swinging their arms and nodding their heads as best as they could.

A quick clean up was needed as they got back home to wash away the park germs, but with soap bubbles and a mini water fight, Yelena managed to make even the most mundane activities interesting. She distracted the twins with some colouring pages whilst she located and heated up the pasta dish that Wanda had left in the fridge, instructions written on a bright yellow post it note.

The mothers really had thought of everything, which made the Blonde’s job ten times easier as she sectioned the food onto the twin’s trays. Pink and orange, just the way they preferred it.

With two tired out toddlers seated at the table, hands washed and lunch served, a quietness descended on the house as they tucked in and Yelena allowed herself a moment to breathe. Natasha and Wanda must be superpowered, she thought to herself, because doing this everyday must be exhausting. She couldn’t wait for a nap.

But when was Yelena’s life this idyllic for long? It certainly didn’t last and the blonde had just finished her pasta before she heard the sniffles beginning. Isla looked happy enough, but the same couldn’t be said for the red-eyed and teary girl beside her.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” Yelena asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Do you not like it?”

“I want Mama,” she spluttered, her bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down her cheeks. She brought her fists up to wipe her eyes but it didn’t stop them much. “I want Mama!”

“Oh malyshka, she’ll be back soon, I promise.” But Yelena’s words did little to comfort the young girl. “Do you want to eat a little bit more?” Her plate was hardly touched, only a few pieces of cucumber and pasta gone from her portion.

Whilst her sister cried, Isla looked at her own empty plate and back at Y/n’s, the little cogs in her head turning. Having such empathetic mothers had rubbed off on her and she looked at the little chocolate chip cookie sitting on the dessert section of her plate for a second.

“Y/n/n, do you want my cookie?” She grabbed it and pushed it towards her sister who stopped sniffling for a second to nod, taking the treat even if she had her own on her plate.

Yelena had to stop herself aweing out loud and she pulled her phone out as quickly as she videoed as much of the interaction as she could for Natasha and Wanda.

“That was kind of you Isla, well done.”

“She’s just noisy,” Isla answered back, her lips curling up in disgust that looked quite comical. Clearly she hadn’t changed and her sister crying was still just as annoying.

Yelena stifled her laugh and stood up to grab another cookie to replace Isla’s lost one. Her attitude at four years old was a clear indicator that Wanda and Natasha were going to have their work cut out as she grew up, especially combined with her ‘older sister complex’.

Y/n had eaten half of the cookie, the distraction working, before she quickly realised why she was crying in the first place. She locked eyes with Yelena and let the tears fall once more, wanting nothing more than a hug as her active morning caught up with her.

“Y/n it’s okay, it’s okay,” she tried to comfort once more, rounding the table to give the young girl a cuddle. “Why don’t we all go and find a movie to watch, hm?

“Mermaids?” Y/n asked between sobs, holding on tight to Yelena’s t shirt as she was lifted into her arms.

“Isla, do you want to watch The Little Mermaid?” The girl nodded, hopping down off her chair and running into the living room.

“Come on, big girl, let’s go get comfy and you can have all the cuddles you need, yeah?” Y/n sobbed into Yelena’s neck and held on tighter, more like a koala than a child. But Yelena never refused hugs from her nieces, not whilst they were still young and small enough to want to spend hours on her lap.

Isla had dug through the dvd shelf, leaving a mess on the floor, to find the most worn case holding their current favourite film. She passed it to Yelena and jumped onto the couch, sitting beside Y/n who was holding the corner of the soft blanket to her chest with a frown.

“Don’t be sad, we can see Sebastian! And Ariel.” Isla suddenly gasped, turning to her aunt crouched by the dvd player. “Aunty Lena!”

“Yes, lenya?” (Sunshine).

“Ariel has hair like me and Y/n/n! Does that mean we’re princesses?”

Yelena smiled to herself and settled on the couch between the two girls, Y/n immediately crawling onto her lap as Isla snuggled into her side.

“Of course you’re both princesses. What does that make me?”

“The evil queen,” Y/n mumbled, giggling as Yelena gasped dramatically. The opening credits of the Disney movie sounded in the background but no one paid attention as the twins erupted into laughter over Yelena’s expression.

“The evil queen? What!”

“Yes!” Isla squealed. “Evil queen!”

“Your mama didn’t tell me you both are little terrors!” She exclaimed, grabbing Isla by the foot so she couldn’t wriggle away. “I can’t believe you!”

“I didn’t say it!” Isla tried to defend herself, but Yelena was having none of it. “Please, Aunty Lena please!”

Yelena let go of her foot and turned Y/n around so she was facing her on her knee. “Okay then, what about Mama? Is she a princess?”

“Mama always a princess!”

“Okay,” Yelena said, wondering how her sister would take anyone but her daughter calling her a princess. “Is Mommy a princess too?”

Isla nodded frantically. “Yeah! We all princesses!”

“But Aunty Yelena isn’t?” She faked an offended expression, sending Y/n into another giggle fit. Which was a lot better than the tears that had dried on her cheeks.

“No you’re the evil queen!”

“Or S’bastian!”

Yelena paused, tapping her fingers on her chin in thought. “So… a singing crab, or a witch? That’s all I get?” The twins both nodded before Y/n stood on the couch and leaned to Yelena’s ear.

“S’bastian is my favourite,” she murmured before flopping back onto Yelena’s lap, her arms leaning on her chest. Yelena felt her heart clench, why were these kids so goddamn cute?

Only thirty minutes into the film, Isla had stretched herself out along the couch so Yelena wrapped both arms around Y/n whose head was flopping to the side as she tried to fight the sleep. But the combination of hearing Disney songs and feeling Yelena stroking her stomach had her falling asleep in a matter of minutes. Isla was watching, but barely. They really had tired themselves out for today, which made Yelena’s job a lot easier.

The jingle of keys in the door woke Yelena from her accidental nap and her heart shot to her stomach momentarily before she realised both twins were still asleep safe and sound. With Y/n’s dead weight sprawled out across her chest, she could do nothing but wait for Natasha to find her, the overplayed soundtrack of the title page luring the attentive mothers towards the living room.

Natasha had her suit jacket hanging over her arm and her white button up shirt was unbuttoned slightly lower than normal, but she still looked professional in her black slacks. Yelena craned her neck over the back of the couch and pressed a finger to her lips, gesturing to the sleeping redheads surrounding her.

“What did you do to them?” Wanda whispered as both women rounded the front of the couch. “They’re flat out.”

Natasha crouched down by Isla and studied her face momentarily before looking at Yelena with a small laugh. “I’ve never seen them so tired. What happened?”

“I let them run out their wiggles in the park,” she began, careful to not disturb Y/n. “And then we had a little meltdown so Isla picked a movie.”

“She got upset?” Wanda asked, concern lacing her tone. It wasn’t like her to get upset at all, which set alarm bells ringing in the mothers’ heads.

But Yelena quickly clarified that Y/n was the one with the tears, to which both mothers looked less concerned about.

“She just kept asking for her Mama, but that’s probably down to tiredness, right?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at her sister, slightly unnerved at the calmness that she radiated. Yelena was not a calm or collected person, so this was a weird sight.

“Who are you and what have you done to my sister?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Shut up. I just did my research, that’s all.”

Natasha went to tease her about it but Y/n shifted on Yelena’s lap, the voices disturbing her sleep. She rubbed her eyes softly before blinking them open and almost launching herself at Wanda with a squeal.

“Home! You’re home!” She squeezed Wanda tight in a hug, the woman melting into her daughter’s embrace as she held her close. There was something so special about welcome home hugs and Natasha didn’t feel left out as Isla woke up only seconds later and attacked her Mama with cuddles.

“Oh my big girls, we missed you!” Natasha peppered Isla’s face in kisses, having missed the way she squirmed in her arms. “Did you have a good day?”

“The best day! I love Aunty Lena!” Isla jumped back onto the couch and hugged Yelena tight, allowing Y/n a moment to shuffle over to Natasha and completely lean against her. Nothing would ever beat her Mama’s hugs. Ever.

“I missed you, babygirl. Are you okay now?”

“Missed you too Mama.”

Natasha stood up and brought Y/n up with her, holding her tightly on her hip as she stretched her legs. She smiled at the familiar feeling of her daughter fiddling with the necklace that lay on her collarbones - she always gravitated towards jewellery.

“You’re staying the night, right Lena?” Natasha clarified, watching Isla’s face light up as her aunt said yes.

“More Aunty Lena time!”

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve won them over,” Wanda added, shaking her head with a smile. She didn't mind what it was, as long as her girls were happy, she was too.

And no one was injured after Yelena’s first babysitting adventure, so there would be many more to follow.

[jam3sacaster]

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on ‘ya.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by my sweet @harveysgirl101 🩷 / A budding pop star already caught in controversy, you reluctantly accept an offer to appear on Declan…

18+ FANFIC / Smut mention, angsty, intense chemistry. Reader character aged at 21. 🫶🏽

“Marvellous. Thank you.” You beam towards the young Corinium producer, sporting the most impressive mullet. Graciously accepting a bubbling champagne flute, you took a large gulp and stared at yourself in the dressing room mirror. Golden tanned skin, peroxide blonde hair preened into tremendous hoops and the most terrifyingly intimidating outfit — a black latex dress that hugged your voluptuous figure, ruby red lipstick and hooped earrings so large they resembled satellite dishes. “An hour ‘till showtime. Take some time to relax.” The young man informed you, to which you took another painful swig of champagne and nodded in response.

-

Confidently striding through Corinium’s orange-adorned hallways, the man that would be tearing you to shreds in approximately fifty-eight minutes turned a corner, completely indulged in his notes of preparation. “Oh Declan, hello.” You articulate, running a hand across the taut rubber of your dress. “My God, it’s not fancy dress, ya’ do know that?” The Irishman sniggered, his gaze not quite meeting yours. Unsurprising, you didn’t find his vitriolic criticism amusing. “I did hope, Mr O’Hara, that tonight’s interview would be one of personal gain, me to clear my name and boost my career and you to boost your… whatever you call this.” You quickly retorted, folding silken arms together across your chest. Declan raised a hazelnut eyebrow — more so in admiration at your counter-attack than vexation.

“My interviews aren’t to boost anyone’s careers, sweetheart. You can take one step out of line, look behind your shoulder and think no one’s watching. But I’ll have seen. And that’s when I strike.” He snapped, pointing a finger at you in an almost accusatory manner. You’re sure that any other individual being reprimanded by Declan in this way would’ve taken a rather harsh gulp of embarrassment, but you were too quick-witted to let it phase you. Instead, you take a hold of his finger, pushing it back towards him. “That’s the talk of a man that’s either not getting any at home, or has a very small penis.” Snickering heartily as you quip.

This one hit close to home — first remark, not second, he can assure you. It had been a few months now since Maud had packed her bags for London. Not that it made much difference. She was too busy pining after Rupert Campbell-Black to notice something as simple as the colour of his socks, let alone to have sex with him. “God, ‘ya are as fuckin’ insufferable as they say ‘ya are.” Declan tuts towards you, bringing his stack of documents to his face and flicking his eyes over a headline. “Excuse me, miss? Makeup are ready for you.” The mulleted producer softly mutters. Presenting him with a gentle nod, you begin to walk past Declan, but stop momentarily, whispering into his ear, “If you are sexually repressed, Mr O’Hara, you know where to find me. I wouldn’t mind giving you a ride.”

-

Nonchalantly peeling a strip of leather from the makeup artists decaying chair, you breathed in the cloying dust of the mattifying powder being swept across your nose. The makeup artist was a dowdy woman — sunflower-yellow skirt clashing with an emerald green jumper. Closing your eyes as she brushed a rather fetching violet eyeshadow across your lids, you heard the door open. A gentle voice exchanged with the artist, and the door promptly shut again. “Thought I’d better get her out of here before ‘ya lamped her. Are ‘ya actually allowed to be on ya’ own with makeup artists anymore?” The irritating Irishman spoke from behind you. Keeping your eyes closed and grunting out a deep exhale, you could only wish you’d have lit a cigarette before round two.

“Are you actually allowed to be on your own with me in here? Don’t think Lord Baddingham would be too pleased at you threatening his guests.” You mutter, opening your eyes only to very quickly light your much-desired cigarette, taking an elongated puff, and clamping your eyes shut again. “Closing ya’ eyes won’t make me go away. I won’t leave ya’ alone.” He speaks again, ignoring your pathetic jibe. “Like an irritating rash.” You retort, mumbling. Declan couldn’t help but smirk. Maud’s insults towards him were cruel — mean-spirited, intended to humiliate him. Yours, however, were different. You came back at him so quickly, and with such vigour, that he felt he had almost met his match.

Stretching his calloused hand toward the door handle, he spun on his heels and paused momentarily. “I don’t have a small cock, by the way.” Declan titters, prompting you to open your eyes and glare at him with huge, glimmering eyes. “Shame. I was hoping a man so intimidatingly sexy would have one downside, at least.” Raising your leg up as you speak, admiring your frighteningly tall stiletto and revealing to Declan your lack of underwear. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on ‘ya.” He huffed, focused entirely on the sight of your exposed cunt. “In the interview… or now?” You tease, standing from your chair and taking another puff of your cigarette. Without looking back, Declan reached behind him to lock the door.

[aerequets]

randomly remembered the time when I was 9 or 10 years old and in a Huge online game phase (think club penguin, fantage, Poptropica, etc). my fixation at the time of this memory was fantage, which, for those who don't know, was basically a dress-up game where you could also interact with other players and play games and whatnot.

so I was Obsessed. like begging my dad for memberships (he finally got me one for one month. it cost $6) and beelining straight to fantage when I got home from school and acting like the pixelated clothing items I got for my pixelated avatar were truly treasure. like this was my second world guys. My... happiness? No, not my happiness, but maybe my sanity hinged on this online game.

now one thing about fantage was that they had censored words, like cuss words, because it was a game for kids. if you said something, it could result in a temporary ban, or, if what you said was REAL bad, a permanent ban on your account.

anyways, people found a neat little trick where if you said the word 'sexy' (not a cuss word but also not something you want kids to be using?) the game would automatically convert it to 'cool'. and I was ALL OVER this trick. For some reason 9 year old me found it the funniest thing in the world to see 'sexy' written in the chat bar (which, by the way, I didn't even really know what it meant) only for the word 'cool' to come up in my speech bubble instead. I even started experimenting. what if I wrote 'exy'? (nothing.) what if it was capitalized? (COOL.)

what if I wrote 'sex'?

probably because it isn't a bad word, the orange pop-up of doom only declared I was banned for 24 hours instead of forever. but I can still remember the sheer panic and horror 9 year old me felt at that sight. I was Banned.

i guess 9 year old me also didn't have any foresight, because instead of 1) considering it was only a day long ban, I could wait and 2) considering it was only a day long ban, NOBODY HAD TO KNOW, I instead ran straight to my mom with tears running down my face and loudly asked "IS S E X A BAD WORD?" mind you, I spelled it out S-E-X because I was under the impression that banned fantage words would somehow also get me banned from real life.

my mother, bless her soul, only looked horrified as her sniveling 9 year old stood there after asking that question. after asking the normal questions (where did you hear that, what happened) and getting a hold on the situation, all she said was "Yes it's a bad word" and left it at that. Im glad she didn't put any stock into my panic over being banned for ONE DAY because wtf was I actually doing.

anyways moral of the story?? practice safe sexy I guess idk I have no idea why I was like that

[starlightsuffered]

Professor Chalamet

Warnings - Teacher and student (duh), oral (male and female receiving), secret relationship, spanking, name calling, needing to be quiet. Unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of masturbation, dirty talk

“That is the meaning behind the character of Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you are dismissed,” Professor Chalamet said.

“Except for you Y/N,” he called to me. I gulped. Was today finally the day that he picked up on the not so subtle hints I’d been dropping?

Drama 101 had been interesting since the first morning I walked in, and saw Professor Chalamet. He was gorgeous. Piercing hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, decadent curly hair. I was in heaven. I felt very happy that I’d arrived early out of anxiety. The two of us had, had a very nice conversation. Since then I’d made the very pornoesque decision, to get his attention.

He was just so damn stoic and calm. It seemed like nothing phased him. He never reacted. The semester was almost over, and I had no idea if I’d seen him again. I had to make a bold move. Our final was turning in a script for a short film. Our rough drafts had been due last week. I’d handed him “The Professor’s Secret.” A story about a Professor fucking his student. I’d even been so courageous as to name the Professor, Professor Chardonnay.

I was shaking with anticipation as I approached his desk. Students filed out of the classroom, giving me pitying looks. They didn’t understand this was all I wanted. I shivered as I remembered the door locked itself when you went out.

“Y/n,” Professor Chalamet called my attention back to him. I walked slowly to his desk. I made sure to swish my hips slightly. I was wearing a tiny, pink, skater skirt, and a white button down. I had dressed up just for him, and I desperately wanted him to know it.

“What is this?” He asked calmly, holding up my script.

“My rough draft sir,” I said politely. He ran a hand over his face, and when I looked at him again, I was shocked. The anger on his face was real and cold. Usually, he was all smiles and gentle words. This was different.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He asked menacingly. This was going wrong, completely and utterly wrong. He was truly angry. What would he do? Would he tell the school board? Would I get kicked out? Fuck, why did I let my pussy do all the thinking? Now there’s going to be a Fox News segment about me.

“Can you even comprehend how many times I’ve read this? How I’ve poured over it? I’ve cum so many times from this alone, it is haunting me,” he explained desperately. My world was spinning at hearing him talk like this. Thinking of him cumming to just my writing was mesmerizing. Imagine what I could do to him with my real self.

“What are you saying Professor?” I asked coyly as I walked closer to him slowly.

“Do you know how many papers I’ve neglected, to read this again and again?” He growled.

“Maybe you should punish me,” I suggested.

He looked at me for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained look.

“I’ve tried my damndest this semester to not give into carnal pleasures. My resistance is reaching it breaking point.”

“What if I want it to break?” I asked. I slowly, slowly, lowered myself to my knees in from of him. “What if I want to help it break.”

“Holy Hell,” he gasped. “You can’t tell anyone about this, not anyone you understand? Not a friend, not a sister or brother.”

“Oh stop,” I said squeezing his package. He shakily reached out to grab his desk.

“I want this as much as you do, why would I ruin the fun?”

He nodded, and unzippered his pants for me. My eyes bulged at his impressive length, and my mouth was watering. I took him in as far as I could go. I moaned as I felt his hand pulling on my hair. I sucked at him, moving up and down his cock. My spit was dripping down my chin, and onto the floor, but I wanted so badly to be good for him.

“Off,” he commanded, and I whined as he removed his cock from me.

I stood up and he kissed me roughly, hands massaging my breasts that were still clothed. One of his hands went down to grab handfuls of my ass.

“Do you wear those slutty little outfits for me everyday?” He asked, after he’d pulled away

“Yes, for you, all for you.”

“So, you’re just fine with distracting your Professor, while he’s trying to make a living,” he growled.

“Did it work?” I asked.

“You little minx,” he pushed me away from him. He cleared a section of him desk, and pushed me down on it. He pushed up my skirt, and pulled down my thong. He hissed as he saw the wet patch he’d made me create.

“I’m getting my ruler, you stay there,” he demanded. I did as I was told, lightly rubbing my thighs together for some sort of friction.

I heard the slap of the ruler on his hand as he approached me. I shivered with anticipation.

“You deserve punishment. Only bad girls rile up their professors in class, only bad girls write such filthy scripts.”

A smack came down on my ass and I stifled a cry. He instantly was massaging the red skin.

“Were you worried I wasn’t noticing the way you whored yourself out to me every class?”

Smack! Another blow had landed on my ass. I was loving the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Please Professor, may I have another?” I asked desperately.

“No, only good students get what they want,” he replied and there was no slap from the ruler. However, in seconds I was struggling not to scream out. He had gone under me, spread my legs, and was now devouring my heat with an expert tongue. I let out a mewl of pleasure and he stopped.

“Don’t make a sound, slut, then everyone will know our secret.”

“Yes, Professor Chalamet,” I choked out. He continued to bless me with his tongue. I was nearing my orgasm. He stopped for a moment, and bit the skin of my inner thigh before returning to his task. I’m seconds I was coming undone, thighs clamping around his head with the effort not to scream.

He walked around so he was in front of me. My slick coated his face, and he wore it like a badge of honor. I was panting, sweat dripping down my temples.

“Like that did you?” He asked with a smirk.

“A+,” I gasped. He chuckled, moving so he was behind me again.

“I hope that was enough to get you ready for me,” he said.

“More than enough, please fill me,” I begged. He pressed his tip to my entrance, and slowly pushed in. I relished how long it took him to bottom out inside me.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined this,” he asked as he began to snap his hips forward. I couldn’t form the words to answer. My eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

“How many times I’ve wanted to cancel class and just have you in every way possible?”

I groaned, nails making marks in his wooden desk. I pressed my ass back to meet his thrusts and he let out a moan of approval.

“I know you thought the same of me. The way you’d eye fuck me from across the room was almost too much to handle. Did you go back to your dorm after and touch yourself? Did you play with your pretty pussy to the thought of me y/n?”

“Yes,” it took all I had not to scream.

“I have an alternate ending for your script,” he told me as he reached around to play with my clit. I bit down hard on my hand, it was the only way to keep silent. The only things to hear in the room was the wet sounds of us and his low, whispered, filthy words.

“What?“ I managed to asked.

“I think the Professor should fuck his naughty student, that part can stay. But I think he should fill her everyday, every free period. She should be bursting with him. She would walk around campus so full of him that it’s leaking down her thighs.”

“Fuck,” I said against my hand. I knew I would leave deep teeth marks there.

“Wouldn’t it be delicious if she got pregnant? She wouldn’t be able to tell anyone whose cum she was carrying around. No one would know who bred her cunt so well that she was completely full. She would have to keep it undercover as he filled her over and over.”

“I can’t,” I gasped, and I was tumbling into a orgasm filled with shining stars and white hot pleasure. I couldn’t contain myself and Professor Chalamet had to clap his hand over my mouth, yet he continued to rub circles on my pulsating clit

“You want my cum? Im going to fill you,” he moaned as I continued to squeeze around him. He spilled into me, rope after rope of cum pumping into me.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he pulled out. I felt some of him spill out of me onto the floor.

“You are to have tutoring session with me every day of the school week, do I make myself clear?” He demanded.

“Yes Professor Chalamet,” I said with giddy joy.

“Call me Timothée.”

[crssvjb]

Stages - Cristiano Ronaldo

Cristiano Ronaldo x model!reader

Summary: Stages of your relationship with football player Cristiano Ronaldo. From the moment you met until your first child.

Getting To Know Him

In 2006, at a fashion event where renowned model Y/N looked stunning on the catwalk, Cristiano Ronaldo, the football star, was fascinated by the model's beauty and magnetic presence. After the parade, Cristiano, determined, approached her to meet her.

– "Hello, I'm Cristiano Ronaldo. I loved your fashion show. You looked stunning." – He praises her.

Y/N smiles, impressed by the player's bold gesture.

– "Thank you, Cristiano. My name is Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you."

– "Your presence on stage is mesmerizing. I would love to know more about you. Will you have dinner with me?" – Cristiano invited her.

- "Glad to."

The Dating - 2006-2007

Over the course of the year, Cristiano and Y/N began a serious relationship. Everyone could see how much the two were in love with each other. The relationship blossoms and, in 2007, Cristiano decides to make a significant statement.

Cristiano decides to create an unforgettable moment to ask Y/N to marry him. Plan a special night out at a beachfront restaurant, where the moon reflects off the crystal clear waters. – "Y/N, since we met, my life has turned into a dream. Today, I want to turn that dream into an eternal reality." – Cristiano began analyzing Y/N’s expression, changing from calm to curious and excited.

– “Cristiano, what are you doing?” – Y/N asked

Cristiano gets down on one knee, revealing a dazzling ring.

– "Y/N, you are everything to me. Will you be my wife, share your dreams with me, grow together, build a life full of love with me?"

Y/N can barely contain her tears of happiness.

– "Cristiano, yes! Of course yes." – Y/N responds through tears.

The restaurant explodes in applause as they embrace emotionally, marking the beginning of a new phase together.

Wedding - 2008

Cristiano and Y/N opted for the tradition of a church wedding, a ceremony that evoked a timeless charm. The church, with its colorful stained glass windows, was the perfect setting to seal their commitment.

Y/N walks down the church aisle, stunning in her wedding dress. The dress is a princess model, with a voluminous skirt and subtle shine. The fitted bodice enhances the elegance of the design, while the skirt flows gracefully with each step.

The long lace veil adds a touch of tradition, creating a fairytale aura. In her hands, Y/N holds a bouquet of fresh flowers, matching the soft colors of her dress.

Cristiano waits for her at the altar, his eyes shining as he sees her approach.

– "You look incredibly beautiful, darling." – Cristiano praises her, as soon as their hands touch.

After the “yes” pronounced with conviction, Cristiano and Y/N leave the church as husband and wife, receiving warm applause from friends and family.

The party takes place in a nearby room, where the tables are covered with white tablecloths and delicate floral arrangements. The dance floor is the center of attention, with twinkling lights lighting the way for the bride and groom's long-awaited dance moment.

Cristiano leads Y/N on the track. – "You look so beautiful, my love."

– "You're making me blush, Cris." – You looked away.

They dance slowly, lost in each other's gaze. Y/N's dress glows delicately under the lights, reflecting the couple's radiant happiness.

The party continues with laughter, lively music and exciting moments. The wedding, simple and elegant, is an authentic celebration of Cristiano and Y/N's love.

The News - November 2009

One peaceful morning, Y/N wakes up feeling a little different. A subtle sensation, but one that does not go unnoticed. She decides to talk to Cristiano.

– “Cristiano, I’ve been feeling a little strange lately, I’m feeling a little sick.” – Y/N said as she entered the room where Cristiano was.

Cristiano, attentive to Y/N's concerns, responds: – "Maybe it's something you ate last night. Let's take care of it, darling."

However, the days pass and the symptoms persist. Worried, Cristiano suggests a visit to the doctor. At the doctor's office, Y/N expresses her concerns and the doctor decides to run some tests.

– "Y/N, let's do some tests to understand what could be causing these symptoms." - The doctor said.

After some tests, Y/N and Cristiano anxiously await the results.

– "Well, here are the results... Y/N, congratulations. You're pregnant."

The office is filled with momentary silence as the news arrives.

Y/N, with tears in her eyes, looks at Cristiano, whose face lights up with a smile.

– "Pregnant? Cristiano, we're having a baby!" – Y/N smiles.

Cristiano stands up and pulls Y/N with him. She hugs her, while whispering in her ear:

– "I'm happy, love. This is amazing! We're about to be parents."

The doctor congratulates and gives guidance, and the couple leaves the office hugging each other, beginning to absorb the news.

– "We're going to be parents. I'm surprised, but happy." – Cristiano murmured.

– "Me too, Cris. This is the beginning of a new journey for us."

The Birth - July 2010

On a summer afternoon in Madrid, Cristiano and Y/N are in the living room of their house, anxious, knowing that their son would soon be here.

Y/N, who had already been having contractions since waking up, felt another one, deciding to get up to drink water.

– “Honey, is everything okay?” – Cristiano asked, a little worried, helping her to get up.

– "Yes, I'm just going to drink a glass of water." – As Y/N headed to the kitchen, something happened.

– "Cristiano, stay calm, okay? I think my water broke." – Cristiano, trying to remain calm, approaches quickly.

– "It's okay, my love. Let's go to the hospital. Stay calm, okay?"

– "I'm calm, love. Calm down. Help me go up to our room and get the bags." – Y/N said, while patting him on the shoulder.

Cristiano helped his wife climb the stairs and go to their shared bedroom, helping her change her clothes.

Cristiano was nervous and anxious, Y/N could see right through him. He went to the baby's room and took his and his wife's suitcase.

They get ready and head to the hospital, where the medical team promptly receives them.

In the delivery room, Cristiano remains next to Y/N, holding her hand affectionately.

– "You look amazing, love. We're about to meet our son." – Cristiano murmurs, kissing your forehead.

Y/N, between deep breaths, smiles at him. - "I look forward to meeting you."

The medical team guides Y/N, while Cristiano remains by her side, offering words of encouragement.

– "I'm here to support you at all times. You are strong, love."

The newborn's cries fill the room, and Cristiano and Y/N exchange an emotional look as they hold little Cristiano Ronaldo Jr.

- "He's so handsome." - Y/N murmurs, looking at the baby in her arms. – “I carried it for nine months and it looks like you.”

Y/N joked, earning a soft laugh from her husband. Cristiano takes his eyes off his son for the first time and looks up, finding his wife with a tired expression on her face, but he doesn't take his eyes off his son.

– "Thank you for everything, Y/N. He's perfect. I love you."

Y/N, exhausted, smiles as Cristiano gently caresses her face.

- "I love you."

It's been a month since Cristiano Ronaldo Jr.'s birth and the family's Madrid home is filled with baby babble. Júnior's grandmother, Dolores, is on her way to meet her grandson for the first time.

Dolores arrives at the family home in Madrid, eager to meet her grandson for the first time. The relationship between Dolores and Y/N dates back to 2006, when Cristiano introduced them, creating a special bond since then.

Cristiano welcomes his mother with open arms. – "Mom, I miss you! Come, you have to meet him."

Y/N, smiling, approaches and greets Dolores. – "Nice to see you again. I missed you."

– “From the moment Cristiano introduced us, I knew you were special.” – Dolores says kissing her daughter-in-law's cheek.

The three enter the room, where Cristiano Ronaldo Jr. is comfortably in his Moses-style bed, awake, curious about the visitor.

Dolores, moved, reaches out to take her grandson.

– "Hello, little Jr. You are the most precious jewel in this family."

Cristiano, looking at Y/N, expresses his gratitude. – "Mom, he's amazing, isn't he?"

– "Yes, Cristiano. And Y/N, I want to thank you. Since 2006, when Cristiano brought you into our lives, I always knew that you would be an essential part of this family."

Y/N, with tears in her eyes, replies: – "Dolores, it's a privilege to be part of this family, really. Cristiano and Jr., they brought more joy to my life."

– "You're not just part of this family, Y/N, you're like a daughter to me. Thank you for making my son happier and for giving us this incredible gift."

Y/N hugs Dolores from the side. – “Your words mean a lot to me. I am grateful for all your generosity and love.”

Cristiano approaches Y/N, placing a kiss on the top of her head as he watches his son in his mother's arms.

⎊𝙘𝙧𝙨𝙨𝙫𝙟𝙗 - ²⁰²⁴

[adrixivy]

I can imagine the Avengers playing UNO one day for game night and after that day, everyone is extremely petty, stingy, extremely aggressive or has an attitude to someone and it’s all because of something that happened that one day they decided to play UNO.

(I played UNO with my family earlier and I was constantly screaming. I got +16. SIXTEEN. So this was what inspired this post)

Clint, throwing dirty looks at Tony everytime Tony walks into the room: *glares and rolls eyes at Tony before looking away*

Tony, sighs exasperatedly: Is this because I plus 20 your ass that game night?

Clint, mocking him: iS tHiS becAuSE I pLUs 20 yOuR aSs- YES. YES IT IS.

Tony being Tony ‘Money is my superpower’ Stark: I bought your kids everything on their Amazon wishlist yesterday. I bought Ms Barton’s wishlist too. And your new trick arrows are restocked and some upgraded

Clint, smiling politely and in the kindest voice possible: Thank you very much, I’ll tell you Peter’s cards from the vent the next time we play UNO

Peter with his advanced hearing: MR BARTON NO!-

——————

Bucky purposely walks away from Steve everytime Steve is trying to go up to him for a kiss or hug or just be close to him (Yes I’m a stucky fan)

Steve sighs and wipes a hand down his face: Is this because I changed the color when you were on one card during game night?

Bucky nodded and dramatically said: You betrayed me-

Steve, screeching: IT’S JUST A GAME?!-

Bucky, screaming back: YOU DON’T LOVE ME-

Steve, dumbfounded because UNO is making his lover hate him: WHAT-

———————

Peter flips onto the ceiling whenever Tony enters the room, renames all of his protocols, purposefully gives Tony the wrong tools and messes up Tony’s clean set-up of tools that it drives Tony up the wall because he thinks Peter is going through some rebellious phase before he notices Peter being kind to literally everyone else except him

Tony, tired and stared at his kid hanging upside down as he plays Dress to Impress with Ned and MJ on HIS personal starkpad meant for his work: Get down from there, kid. I need the Starkpad.

Peter ignores him and he tries remembering what he did before he scoffs in disbelief as he realised what Peter is annoyed about

Tony: Is this because I kept skipping your turn during game night? I told you I didn’t have the colors and those skip cards were the colors I drawn!

Peter: I had ONE card but because you kept skipping my turn, MR BARTON WON! MR BARTON-

Tony, sputtering: IT’S JUST A GAME-

Peter, screaming back: IT’S UNO!-

Tony on the verge of tears: I’M SORRY DON’T HATE ME-

Peter immediately jumps down, puts the Starkpad away and hugs Tony. The two share a hug and Peter forgets everything that what Tony did to him in game night

——————

Natasha throws a dagger that just barely misses Steve and Clint everytime they enter the room. Steve is wondering where she keeps those daggers and Clint knows where but knows she won’t stop because she’s incredibly petty. Extremely so.

Clint: Nat, my no.1 friend, my sister from another mother, I swear you gotta stop this-

Steve: I really don’t appreciate those daggers being thrown-

Steve is immediately cut off as Clint shoots a look at Steve that says ‘You’re an idiot!”. Nat simply stares at them blankly and Clint immediately grabs Steve and yanks him down to take cover as Natasha pulls a gun out of nowhere and shoots where they previously stood

Clint, knew it was coming but is still afraid as the two just narrowly dodged the bullets: I’M SORRY WE KEPT CHANGING THE COLOR BUT IT WASN’T THAT DEEP-

Steve, panicking and worried for their lives: JUST BECAUSE OF UNO?-

Clint, can’t believe Steve is asking an obvious question: YES JUST BECAUSE OF THAT!

Steve: I TOLD YOU IT WAS A BAD IDEA-

Clint, the one who told Steve to mess with Nat together and is regretting he ever did and is genuinely sorry he made the reluctant Steve join him: I’M SORRY I DRAGGED YOU INTO THIS-

It took Natasha a few hours to calm down and it was just because Clint summoned Peter ‘Puppy’ Parker to calm her down. Nat still gives slight nasty looks but she isn’t so petty about it anymore which was an absolute relief for the two

—————

Sam is glaring at Peter everytime and Peter sticks his tongue out to annoy and piss Sam off. The two always had somewhat of a small beef but it amplified more after game night. Probably because Peter was purposely aiming to attack Sam by always adding plus cards when it’s Sam’s turn next. It sucked more for Sam when Peter actually won.

Sam, sending Redwing to shoot small nerf darts at Peter: Take that you midget-

Peter, huffing and shot a web at Redwing which immediately made the small robotic bird stuck onto the ceiling: *sticks tongue out before giggling*

Peter laughs harder when he heard Sam screaming ‘MY CHILD’ with his advanced hearing

——————

Wanda and Peter teamed up during UNO and sneaked some cards to each other when one needed a certain color. And the entire team is always dumbstruck whenever one of the two kept winning for 5 rounds straight, not knowing Wanda is reading their minds on what color they have and their secret way of communicating

Wanda wins three times in a row and her and Peter is giggling. The whole team is confused af because how are they doing this-

(They totally forgot about Wanda’s abilities during the game. UNO is a serious game where all your remaining braincells is used on the game and nothing else matters)

——————

Rhodey joins for one game and is immediately done because his cards somehow stack all the way to 30 cards. He just needed a blue and he kept drawing cards until FINALLY he pulled a blue and Tony’s turn was next so imagine how furious he was when Tony placed a blue reverse and out of his 30 cards, he didn’t have a SINGLE reverse or power card. He tweaks and the whole team is laughing at him as he grumbles and complains about how they’re ganging up on him and UNO is a completely unfair game. Tony kept laughing till there was tears. He always found it fun to annoy tf out of Rhodey.

Rhodey, fuming as he fails to get one blue card: WHO THE HELL SHUFFLED THIS CARDS-

The whole room erupts into laughter at the sight

——————

Thor is the only one that doesn’t seem affected by the game and isn’t petty at all because there’s probably worse games in Asgard and he had dealt with way more petty people when it comes to games. Honestly, he probably imagined it as a game with Loki. Loki was always petty with games and everytime Thor won, he deals with attitude from Loki for weeks. UNO was basically child play for him.

——————

Bruce doesn’t ever participate in UNO and the team believes its for the best because if he joins, the big guy will come out and play for him instead (He’s smashing everything. Not as in the game. Literal smashing)

It’s literally impossible to not get mad at people in UNO.

Best believe UNO is a game that’s banned from game night forever after that day as the amount of attitude and danger in the tower increases by tenfold.

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 2)

Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3900+

A/N Note: You guys... Thank you for the overwhelming support on this series. You guys are the sweetest :) I've loved reading your series and promise I love them; just haven't had the chance to respond! Again, thank you for the love, as it's all turned back to you!

As for the chapter... Let's make it more fun (otherwise known as interesting) ;)

_________________

Bucky’s POV

Hidden bugs weren’t new business to us, so after disposing of the picture frame, they gifted us with a note saying, “For your new home, and your first picture in it! ;)”... It was an easy ‘accidental’ drop. 

However, quickly after that, wouldn’t you know it? A new basket showed up on our porch with another set of welcome-to-the-neighborhood gifts from the whole neighborhood this time…

Y/N had ‘accidentally’ placed the newly potted plant, that they had somehow added a very impressively hidden camera on, too close to the edge of the entryway table, so when she came through the door quickly with her arms full of more boxes, the pot was no longer usable. Shame… We did buy our own pot for said plant, so we still got a new piece of greenery without the bugs. 

After those two failed attempts, we hoped our show of clumsiness warded off the assholes and made us less intimidating. And yes, I use that word because I could read easily from our first meeting that they were sizing us up. Analyzing our act and manipulating themselves into our lives in a careful yet planned manner. 

For extra measure on the clumsy showcase, Y/N drove into the trashcans I had forgotten to pull to the curb, making a public display of her character’s clumsiness. Though I later learned she was actually just pissed that I forgot to put them out and found a way for me to pay the consequences in our squabble on the lawn. 

A squabble that started out a hundred percent authentic and then turned into a fake makeup season when the neighbors peaked their heads out. 

“This jughead would forget his head if it weren’t on his shoulders,” Y/N slapped my chest before patting it harshly and smiling at the seventy-year-old next-door neighbor, Gertrude, who always happened to find her rose bushes interesting when others were outside. 

She smiled and laughed at Y/N’s wide grin before waving her on as she snipped a few thorns. 

“God, I hate it here,” Y/N said through her teeth, holding her fake smile as she walked past me into the house.

A few more preplanned acts happened while we were outside to show the community that our accidental breaking of their bugs was just that—accidental. It was not planned and discovered at all. 

It had been two weeks, and we’d already been invited to a food truck social, a street parade for a family leaving the neighborhood, and an outdoor movie night. Given their thoroughness, you would have thought these events had the same planning committee as the MET Gala. At least, that's what Y/N said, and I choose to believe that it holds some form of significance.

Tonight, we went over to another couple's house that was high up in the HOA group for a neighborhood barbeque, one where Y/N’s damn lilac tennis dress she had worn to workout with a neighbor, made more than half the dads and men too old and married to be staring, struggle to keep their eyes off her. 

I had told her that keeping a hand on her during most of the party was for the act, but genuinely, I didn’t care for how the men of the group gawked at her. Something gave me a bad feeling about it. And I didn’t understand why Y/N wasn’t phased at all or even slightly uneasy, considering she was just as trained as me to assess and sense all that attention.

As soon as we were behind closed doors back in our secure home, my first question was, “Did you really not feel their eyes on you?” 

She was in the middle of taking off her shoes, talking about some information she had gotten from a group of stay-at-home wives, something related to our mission, but I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around how unphased she was with the unnerving type of attention she was getting there. 

“What?” She paused as she bent to take off a tennis shoe. 

“All those guys, the husbands, and pervs at the cookout. You didn’t notice them staring at you?” I asked again, rolling my sleeves of the button-down I had on up to my elbow.

She stared at me for a moment and then rolled her eyes as if she had figured out where I was going with this. Spoiler: she was far off the mark. 

“Listen, if you’re saying that thanks to this dress, which, yes, is a little short, but who the hell cares, is the reason why men were,” she straightened, kicking off both her shoes fluently, now only in socks. “Gawking at me, as you put it-.” 

“I didn’t say that,” I straightened, furrowing my eyebrows. 

“Oh, but you did,” she sassed with a shrug, continuing. “Under your breath when you came up behind me while we were there, and you 'staked your claim' by never taking your arm away from my waist for the night.”

“I didn’t say that,” I shook my head. I said it in my head, but I hadn’t said that out loud… Had I?

“Ugh, whether you did or didn’t, I could tell you were judging,” she huffed, rolled her shoulders, and walked past me to the kitchen, going straight to the fridge.

It took me a minute, but I figured out where her mind had gone. “I was judging them, Y/N,” I shook my head. “I was judging the horny, married, and dusty-ass men that couldn’t keep their damn tongue from falling to the floor with you in the vicinity. Like their wives had deprived them of any kind of physical touch for the last decade, and they couldn’t keep it in their pants any longer.” 

I realized I may have explained more of my thought process than I intended, but she shut the fridge door she had hidden behind and turned to me, scanning, assessing. 

“You were jealous.” The corner of her lip raised at her statement. 

“What?” I scoffed. “No, loser,” I scoffed again, and clearly, I wasn’t selling my answer because she didn’t lose her growing grin. “I just took notice of how much attention you got, and it concerned me that the ideas most of those men were having were far from civil ones.” 

She stared at me for a minute, and I felt uncomfortable in my own skin as she weighed her options regarding how she wanted to react. We still had plenty of fights, but they have been somewhat decreasing lately, and I was hoping we could keep that streak going.

Her assessing stopped, and her grin grew again. “Awe, the Tinman does have a heart.”

And she ruined it. Surprise, surprise. 

“It’s sweet that you care, old man.” She twisted the lid to the drink she had pulled out of the fridge and took a swig before looking at me. “But that’s just a day in the life of a woman. Nothing new to me or anyone with the double X chromosomes,” she shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I mean, obviously, people look at you,” I started, and she balanced her elbows on the counter before resting her chin on her fist. I continued before I realized my wording. “Before you-”

“Obviously?” She emphasized my word choice. “Keeping notes on an awful lot of things lately, huh, Buck?” she whispered my name like it was a secret, and I knew it was for the odd case someone could hear us, but something about her tone made my chest freeze. “Tell me, what else do you notice…?” She tilted her head one way as she stared at me. 

I wasn’t going to lie and say her words didn’t flustered me, but as a reflex, I jumped back into the normal banter.

“You’re not funny, jackass,” I deadpanned and turned on my heel to walk away.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” she shouted after me, and I heard her sock-clad feet slide on the hardwoods to catch up with me. “Listen, I think it’s nice you’re taking notice of stuff like this. Most men never pay attention to those kinds of things because they don’t have to. It’s not really a normal day-to-day experience for them, so they don’t get it. They don’t HAVE to get it.”

I stopped and turned in my march, and she slid into me from just two steps behind me. I caught her easily, bracing my hands on her biceps to steady her. She let out a huff of air as our chests flushed to each other and then looked up at me. 

“You’re murder strut is too fast for me to keep up with,” she mumbled, scrunching her nose in a relaxed way. 

I closed my eyes for a minute but didn’t let go of her before I channeled back my seriousness. 

“I’ve learned men are assholes, trust me. In this field, we come across some of the worst misogynistic weasels to exist. Wear whatever you want. You have scary dog privileges now," I replied, thinking of the reference the Parker kid had explained to me recently. "The attire issue isn't what I was getting at."

Her smile was unlike any I had the pleasure to be on the receiving end of, and I immediately mentally captured it, worried that I’d never experience the genuineness she was sharing with me in this moment again. 

“Scary dog privileges, huh? Someone’s been brushing up on their TikTok trends.” She laughed, scanning my face as I scanned hers. “Peter finally invested in his version of Duolingo? This one labeled new-age-slang-for-100-years-and-older?”

“Actually called, Born-in-1910’s-and-on-the-comeback-of-a-70-year-coma-new-age-lingo. Very helpful,” I retorted, and the surprise on her face as she laughed at me made my grip on her soften, my thumb unconsciously running over the bone on her wrist. 

The action brought both of our eyes to the feeling, and in the next second, we had three feet between us. 

“I’m going to go take a shower.” Her rush to get around me in the narrow hall caused her to brush along my arm, and it was like the sparks that ignited when I held her tried to reach out for each other again in the brief contact. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” I grumbled, walking quickly in the opposite direction. 

____________________

Y/N’s POV

The last two weeks have been frustrating, but somehow, Bucky and I have learned we work together surprisingly well. We still had our bickering fights and annoying quarrels, but stick us in a house for a few weeks, and we realized we did well at balancing each other out. 

Where I hated doing the dishes, he made sure they were done every night. Where he hated doing laundry, I folded and sorted the linens and clothes. I hated cooking, and he somehow was really good at it. I loved to bake when we had free time, and he loved to taste test. I sucked at most things gardening-wise, and he had shown me how to prune overgrown flowers in our gardening bed. Bucky sucked at interior decorating, so I was in charge of making our fake abode look like a real one. 

Overall, we do pretty well, considering we hate each other's guts. Ok, well… I don’t necessarily hate his guts, even if I act it. I just have a very low tolerance for his bullshit and don’t mask my frustrations when they hit their limits. As for being a fake wife to him where he has to treat me well… He’s been a picture-perfect husband from a suburban wife’s perspective.

The only thing we’ve successfully avoided that I was worried about is sharing the same bed. 

After confirming with the higher-ups that our house was bug-free, we claimed our own rooms (me in the master, of course) and set up our own space. Keeping the facade of a happy married couple outside of those rooms and the house was easy, but I dreaded the day we would have to show more affection and closeness than what we already had. 

So far, a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, a hug from behind, and a normal amount of PDA that showed we were in our honeymoon phase yet did not want to make others fully uncomfortable did the job enough. But after Bethanne commented about when we planned on having kids, I figured we might need to bump up our act since she gave a passive comment about us being ‘rather tamed for a newlywed couple.’

Before I could bring up the comment to Bucky once we got home, he seemed more bothered by the men at the party than anything. 

I didn’t expect him to notice such a minute thing, but if there was one thing I had learned about Bucky these last few weeks, it’s that he’s very attentive to details I wouldn’t expect him to be on.

Then, to further my confusion about the situation, something seemed different in our intimate hallway space run-in, and both of us scurried away as if the touch of each other burned. 

After my shower, I got dressed in my pajamas and heard the TV still on in the living room, where Bucky tended to station himself for a few hours before bed. Well, his bedtime. Another thing about us was that I wasn’t much of a night owl, but I did appreciate knowing someone was on alert while I slept. And even if he didn’t do it for that reason, I’m sure, I liked hearing the TV still on when I tended to wake up in the middle of the night. I felt safer…

“Hey,” I leaned against the wall coming into the living room and saw that he had Brooklyn Nine-Nine on with a computer sat in his lap. 

He looked up and gave me a quick head nod before going back to the screen in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Just needed to fill you in on some of the things I learned at the cookout,” I let out a yawn as the day caught up with me and moved to the single chair across from him on the couch. 

“Hit me,” he rolled his shoulders back, never looking away from the blue light. 

“Don’t ask for things you don’t really want,” I teased, and he looked above the screen at me with a glance that seemed to be holding back a smile before rolling his eyes. 

“What’d you learn?” he followed up with. 

I went on to tell him about the neighborhood drama. All things that may or may not have any major plays to our mission, but information nonetheless. 

“Did you ask any of them about work?” Bucky asked once I had covered most everything. 

Our undercover jobs were simple. I worked from home as a data entry clerk. Something boring that Charolette Hunt has been hoping to get out of and find her passion. All this led to me asking around about job connections and if there was anything I could swap over to for a ‘more exciting work life,’ otherwise known as drug trafficking jobs if they were available. 

As for Beau Hunt, Bucky’s cover, he was the owner of a transportation company. Considering how well he was doing, he took the last two weeks off to move into his first home with his new wife before having to get back into the work ethic he had been thriving in the last ten years. 

All perfect pieces to get the answers and resources from our sketchy neighbors we came here for. 

“I asked Katrina, one of the wives of a guy who works closely alongside Reg. I figured that was a good seed to plant,” I answered, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knees as I watched Jake Peralta chase a bad guy down the streets of New York. I missed the homeland. “She said she’d ask around, which is what I needed. What about you? Any of the 'dusty-ass husbands' have fun details to share?”

“Nothing more than statistics of sports teams and rookie starters for the state college basketball team,” he sighed, and I turned over to see him staring at me before turning back to his computer quickly. “Reggie was giving me a hard time, though.”

“Oh yeah?” I hummed, angling myself to him. “Bethanne was giving me a hard time, too.”

“Think it’s related to the same thing?” Bucky chuckled, looking back at me, but whatever was in his eyes just seconds ago was gone now. 

“Say on the count of three?” I smirked. 

“One,” he nodded.

“Two.”

“Three.”

“When we’re going to consider joining parenthood,” Bucky said. 

“When we’re having kids,” I said at the same time. “Almost a jinx if you didn’t word it so damn robotically. Did fucking Vision channel into your damn cyborg brain?” I laughed, and I heard a slight scoff from his direction before I rolled my head back and looked up at the ceiling. I stayed quiet until Bucky broke me out of my thoughts twenty seconds later.

“What are you thinking?” I heard the computer shut and then be placed on the cushion next to him. “I can hear the gears working past their limit.” His weak version of a retort.

I lulled my stare at him and deadpanned a bitchface at him. “You talking to yourself again?” He rolled his eyes at my comeback, and I decided to bypass the banter. “I think we need to step our game up. Ms. Bethanne thinks we’re ‘tamed’ for a newlywed couple. In other words, she thinks we’re prudes.”

“We’ve hit the PDA marks we need to,” Bucky stiffened just enough for a trained eye to see, but he tried to brush it off as getting comfortable in his spot. 

“Hmm, so maybe one of us is a prude,” I shrugged, moving my legs under me and leaning on one side of the chair. 

We hadn't kissed, although I would peck one on his cheek, and he would place one on top of my head. But that's as far as either of us had been willing to go.

I know our job may require us to go beyond that, and I was willing to keep it strictly professional even if necessary, but Bucky seemed to want to avoid it by all means. Message received.

“I’m not a prude. I just don’t understand why people have to be so touchy in public. It makes everyone uncomfortable,” he argued. 

“Not everyone finds discomfort in those acts. A lot of people think it’s cute.”

“I’m not one of those fucking people.”

“Well, you better figure out pretty fucking quick how to become one of those people because this operation kinda depends on it.” I sighed, standing up and stretching. “Listen, I know you hate me and all, but if we’re going to get this done and over with, we need to-”

“I’ve never said I hate you,” Bucky interrupted. I looked down and saw him staring at me with stern eyes.

“Actions have convinced me otherwise.” 

“The same could be said for you.” 

“I don’t hate you,” I clarified after carefully studying him for lies. 

It was an intense stare-off, but not one where I felt like I had to win it. One where I felt we were both taking a step into new territory, and neither of us knew what to expect. 

Bucky’s burner phone rang right before I could follow up with my peace offering, and we saw it was the fake caller ID Steve was under. He picked it up and put it on speaker. 

“What’s up, punk?” he answered, and Steve scoffed on the other end. 

“Just your biweekly check-in. Anything interesting enough to make this phone call longer than 5 minutes?” he asked. 

“Don’t think so,” Bucky sighed and filled him in on the steps we had taken to further the investigation. Planting our gossip seeds where necessary and waiting for the garden to grow. 

The call ended with Steve informing Bucky that he ‘started back at work’ tomorrow and would need to go to a specific meeting spot for updates. A way for us to get news that couldn’t be tracked with phone calls and messages. And after two weeks of gathering information and only four check-ins in that time, things were meant to pick up now. 

I had decided to head back to my room when a normal conversation between the two started up and strayed from the mission talk. Then, about 10 minutes later, Bucky was in my doorway as I got ready for bed. 

“Sorry, Steve wanted to know if we had torn each other’s heads off yet. Nat and him have a bet going,” he said, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms over his chest. 

I shrugged, pulling the comforter back on the bed. “No need to apologize. And who’s winning?” 

“Steve gave it 3 weeks, so he’s still in the running.”

“He’s being generous,” I laughed, fluffing a pillow before sitting on the edge and looking at him. 

“I don’t know. I think we’ve managed to stay surprisingly civil given our relationship,” he smiled softly as if the conversation wasn’t dangerous grounds and could easily go one way or the other. 

“Helps that we have to act for most of it,” I fiddled with my nails. 

“Would you rather we didn’t get along?” he asked, and I could see the start of our normal frustration with each other trickle back into his tone.

I stared at him for a minute. Not sure what my goal was here, but it definitely had flipped from wanting to make every minute with him, his own personal hell.

“Fighting has become tiresome. I’m content tolerating the situation.” A bit of a hypocritical response, sounding robotic, but there was no lie behind it.

He stared at me like I had to him. 

“Right. Tolerating,” he nodded with pursed lips, pushing off the door frame and walking down the hall to his room. 

Something about his attitude made it hard for me to brush off the change in tension. I stood up and walked down the hall. When he was already in his room, I was taking up as much space as I could in his doorway now. 

“What’s with the annoyance?” I asked, looking at him as he arranged some things on his nightstand. He turned around, body lax and almost defeated looking. 

“I’m not annoyed. Why would I be annoyed with you ‘tolerating me’?” he said nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I don’t know, but you clearly are,” I gestured to him and crossed my arms. “Would you rather I treat you how I have before this? I mean, we can go back to-”

“Obviously not, Y/N,” he cut me off with a scoff, and I was shocked at the sheer frustration that I would suggest such a thing. His use of the word 'obviously' made my brain scramble as well… The second time, that word had messed with me tonight.

“You’re confusing as hell, Barnes,” I squinted my eyes at him and decided I wasn’t in the mood to handle a bipolar 100-year-old man tonight. Maybe it was best if I just called it a night. 

Turning in my spot four steps away, I didn’t expect the hand around my bicep to stop me in the middle of the hall, leading to a pensive look on his face as he stared at me.

“What?” I furrowed my eyes at him and looked at the contact unwavering on my elbow.

“I—” he started and then stopped. An internal war played out with surprising clarity on his face. I raised my eyebrows and waited.

We stared for an hour—okay, nine seconds—but it’s all the same with that level of intensity.

“Never mind.” He dropped my arm and took a step back. 

“Seriously?”

“I don’t want to start something.”

“There’s something to start?” 

“No, but I’ll wait until you’re in a better mood to...” He debated on his wording. “Discuss it,” he settled on, turning on his heel. 

“I’m not in a bad mood,” I huffed, and yeah… That didn’t help proving my point. 

“Sure thing,” he shook his head before walking into his room, carrying on as if he hadn’t dropped a strange and confusing bomb on me that I now needed answers to. 

“Goodnight to you, too,” I grumbled as I walked to my room and shut the door behind me.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose�� @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki

[heavyhitterheaux]

Riders Up

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: It's the 150th Kentucky Derby, and knowing how important this event is to Jack, you make a point to make it extra special for him.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The week leading up to the Kentucky Derby which is the first installment of the Triple Crown and the actual Derby day was always hectic in the Harlow household. This year was no different.

Jack had changed his outfit at least four times when you finally made an executive decision for him otherwise, the two of you would have missed the derby all together. Because of you having to help him, it now put you behind in doing your make-up and hair. Your dress was red this year and you and Taylor had decided to wear similar dresses. 

This was the first year that the triplets would be going with you and Jack and you were definitely nervous to have them around that many people. They were only ten months old and were now to the phase of getting into anything that they could get their tiny hands on. At first, you and Jack had decided not to bring them, but when Maggie and Brian volunteered to go to watch them specifically, you both quickly agreed. Jack bought out a suite that was near the finish line that's exclusive to family and friends and that made you a little less worried.

Since moving to Louisville at the age of fourteen, you hadn't missed one yet, but this year was going to be extra special. This had actually been in the works close to three years and you couldn’t wait to tell Jack when all of you got to Churchill Downs. It had been hard keeping a secret from him since you literally told him everything, but you knew that the look on his face was going to be worth it. 

You combined your love of animals with Jack's love of going to the Kentucky Derby and purchased a horse who had been training to compete in The Triple Crown races. It was an expensive and lengthy process, and you were hoping all the time and effort put into it would pay off later in the day once the finish line was crossed. And of course since racehorses have very unique names, there was only one that came to mind that made the most sense.

Private Garden.

Your thoughts were then interrupted by Jack for the millionth time that morning, although you didn’t mind. 

“Baby! Does this look okay?” Jack asked as he slipped on his suit jacket and walked over towards you. This had been going on for the last hour and a half as you were currently sitting in your robe at your vanity while finishing up your makeup.

“Why do you keep asking me if you look okay? Are you meeting up with a girl I don't know about? Who are you trying to impress? At this rate, we'll be late because of you and not me with all these outfit changes. I didn't realize that we were at a fashion show.” You playfully asked and all he did was frown before sucking his teeth.

“Stop playing!”

“I was just asking!” You said while holding up your hands in defense. Jack was still pouting so you stood up and made a motion for him to bend down.

You softly kissed him and as you pulled away, you smiled at him before pinching his cheek. 

“My man looks so good that if we didn't have anywhere to be right now, we would be working on baby number four.” You whispered against his lips as you kissed him again.

“I mean, we have time….”

“No, Jackman. I still need to get dressed myself so cut it out.”

“I did get a private suite with a private bathroom.”

All you did was stare at him before rolling your eyes and then untying your robe and dropping it in front of him.

“Are you SERIOUS right now? You tell me no and then take off your robe in front of me?”

“I have to get dressed.” You shrugged before going to the hanger and taking off the red dress that you specifically got for today.

“You owe me later.”

“Hmm, we'll see who owes who. Now go downstairs and wait for me because you cannot be trusted.”

“Just let me put the tip in.”

“NO, JACKMAN.”

Maggie and Brian had gotten the triplets last night so the two of you didn't have to worry about getting them ready as well. Axel would have on an outfit similar to Jack’s since he had packed multiple not knowing which one that he was going to end up choosing while Ivy and Autumn would both be wearing red like you were. When Jack was satisfied with his outfit, he sent a pic to Maggie to let her know which one to pick out for Axel. 

Jack would have taken up too much time anyway if you had to get the triplets ready too with his four outfit changes and everyone would have been late.

When the two of you had finally arrived at Churchill Downs, pictures were taken along the red carpet before Jack had led both of you to the suite that he had purchased to meet up with everyone else. The triplets of course were being passed around and Autumn was loving the attention while Ivy was in her own little world and Axel looked completely over it and was soon reaching out his chubby hands towards Jack who quickly took him from Shloob. 

“Your twin definitely missed you.” You said towards Jack as you pinched Axel’s cheek and he smiled at you before laying his head down on Jack’s shoulder.

“Only because he got to him first.”

“Clay! Don’t start!” Jack replied as he rolled his eyes at Clay who was sipping on a mint julep.

“I didn’t say anything but the truth.”

“The two of you don’t even let up during Derby week, my goodness.” You quietly said as you rubbed your temples while listening to the both of them. 

They continued to go back and forth while you went to sit next to Taylor and Maggie who also had mint juleps in their hands.

“Mama Maggie, are you sure that you don’t want your oldest back?” You asked while glancing over at him and Clay.

“Oh, I’m sure. 100% sure actually. He’s all yours now even though I know it probably feels like you have four children instead of three.”

“MOM! I HEARD THAT!” Jack exclaimed while looking over at the three of you as she held up her hands in defense.

“You’re the reason why I started drinking.”

“I thought that was Clay.” Jack said while pointing at him and Clay immediately rolled his eyes.

“Babe, I highly doubt that it was Clay, you did nothing but stress her out for eighteen years.”

“Oh, he still does at 26. Absolutely nothing has changed and I highly doubt that it ever will.”

“Now, when you asked me to babysit did you mean the triplets or Jack and Urban?” Taylor asked and all Jack did was look at her in disbelief as Urban was stuffing his face and coming over towards all of you.

Urban noticed all of you staring at him and instantly got a confused look on his face.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

“I was definitely talking about the two of them.”

Time was winding down and it would soon be time for the race to start. You felt it was the perfect time to tell Jack about his surprise. 

“Baby, come here for a second.” You said as you tugged on Jack’s hand and he began to follow you.

“Everything okay?” He asked while looking at you concerned.

“Yes, I just have something to show you.”

The two of you arrived at the stables and Jack looked around confused.

“Baby, we are not buying another horse so don't get any ideas.”

“Now, why is that the first idea that pops in your head!?” You exclaimed while turning up your nose at him. 

“Because I know you! And your track record for spending money on animals speaks for itself. We already have too many that we know what to do with”

You rolled your eyes before going up to pet Private Garden and waved Jack over to do the same.

“Isn't she pretty?” You asked him, but he was still eyeing you.

“Y/N, what did you do? Bet all of our life savings on a horse?” He asked before beginning to pet her. 

“No, only some of it.”

“WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONLY SOME OF IT?”

“So, I did a thing.”

“Oh goodness. Nothing good comes out of your mouth after you say that.” Jack responded as he shook his head.

“You are so dramatic. This is your horse.”

“Huh?”

“This is Private Garden and I bought her and had her work with some of the best trainers in the world so that she could compete in The Triple Crown. So, surprise baby! Happy Derby Day! Riders Up!”

“I have something you can ride, but, wait, seriously? Are you serious right now?!”

“I’m ignoring that first part. Yes, silly! I know how important this is for you and I figured that I could start something in the hopes that the triplets continue it one day. That’s why I stopped you earlier from betting on any horses and I thought it was funny that no one else said anything to me either about her name.”

“I can’t believe that you did this for me.”

“Baby, I would do anything for you. You already know that.” You answered as you reached up to kiss him.

“Wait a minute, you bought ANOTHER horse? We have two already!”

“You’re missing the point here. OUR horse is running in the Kentucky Derby so you need to change that attitude.”

“HOW MUCH DID YOU SPEND?”

“Um, enough…..”

“BABY!”

“Welp, I think I heard Taylor calling me. Gotta go see what she might need.” You said before starting to make your way back to the suite, but you knew you couldn’t run in your heels and decided on a brisk walk.

“NO, GET BACK HERE!”

Liked by y/ninsta, urbanwyatt, claybornharlow, quiiso, 2forwoyne, privategarden, and 1,284,903 others

jackharlow: my wife is full of surprises. I got the ultimate Derby gift when she told me about our newest horse (y/ninsta NO MORE ANIMALS) named Private Garden who was going to compete in The Triple Crown and sure enough she got first place. Definitely something that I'll never forget. Riders UP! Next stop is Preakness. 🌹🌹🌹

y/ninsta: love you long time!! happy you loved your gift! and we can never have too many pets!

urbanwyatt: WE IN THEREEEEEE

claybornharlow: having 3 horses is crazy lol

quiiso: The best horse definitely won today! She's sweeping all 3 races!

taylorrooks: let me know if you need a babysitter for preakness lmao

y/ninsta: I'll pay you double for Jack and Urban

jackharlow: 🙄🙄🙄

urbandjack26: y/n loves this man bad 🥺

allthingsy/n: and wife of the year goes to y/ninsta!!

[nikito0x]

My first impressions of the tgcf characters before I properly entered the fandom.

What brought me to tgcf was initially the fanart. I just kept on seeing beautiful art of two people who looked absolutely smitten with each other.

The first impression I had of HuaLian:

"Oh, they are the eternal soulmates type of ship." Because I saw fanart of only the two of them together and never with anyone else. I didn't even know their names or the fact that they aren't a ship - they are canon. I compared them to couples like AshEiji , the Ineffable Husbands, Catradora and Merthur. I just loved the fanart because just looking at it you know the artists were trying to portray the love in their eyes.

The thing is, there isn't as much HuaLian fanart where they are kissing as there is of them just looking lovingly at each other or just them laughing together. That's how you know you're dealing with a soulmate couple. You don't need to have them be physically affectionate in art to know they are soulmates.

Anyway. Moving on.

Feng Xin & Mu Qing:

Xie Lian always had two friends/guards of some sort that just kept yelling at him (but also yelled a lot at each other for some reason) to stop going through other people's trash cans and to please stay away from the suspicious dude in red.

And then Xie Lian would be like:

"But the trash is shiny and the guy in red is kind of shiny too..."

And they would be like "Dianxia, no!!" and try pulling Xie Lian away like they were trying to stop their dog from eating something random it found on the ground.

I figured out pretty early on through short comics with them that Xie Lian is or was a prince at some point. I had no idea for the longest time, however, that the books (which I didn't know the name of) were even about gods. Fanart didn't exactly mention that xd.

The realization went something like this:

Phase 1: Oh cool, so one of the soulmates is a prince.

Phase 2: Huh, okay so I guess they are both royalty of a sort.

Phase 3: Ghost city? I mean sure. Humans and ghosts. Sounds interesting.

Phase 4: Gods??? Where did the Gods come from?? Were there always Gods!?... The prince is a God?!?!?

So when this well dressed guy, who obviously had a position of power came around, and was acting all concerned (in fanart) about dear old Xianle but wasn't doing anything to better his situation, I got immediately suspicious of him. But Jun Wu wasn't portrayed that often in fanart with Dianxia from what I could see, so while I was suspicious, I didn't really think much of it.

Characters' names

I was soo confused for the longest time. Everyone had at least two names, some had more than that and then some had additional titles.

When I realized Hua Cheng alone had four different names, I was just about to give up. What is this secret identity bullshit?? This looks worse than Miraculous!!

Like, let's count together.

Hong-er, Wu Ming, San Lang, Hua Cheng, Chengzu, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, a Calamity, a Supreme, a Ghost King.

Can you count them? I don't even want to. And of course his husband-to-be has to match him too, in titles at least.

Then there is the rest of the cast like:

Feng Xin -> Nan Yang

Mu Qing -> Xuan Zhen

Pei Ming -> Ming Guang

Nangong Jie -> Ling Wen

And then there was a sword with the name Fang Xin for some reason and I was wondering how it connected to that Feng Xin guy.

I was so lost. For such a long time. But I didn't have time to read the books so...

Anyway those were my first impressions of the tgcf fandom and characters.

[aromanticbugyuri]

I am still on tlok phase to no one's surprise, I've noticed something about Bolin after rewatching and actually paying attention to the scenes...he just gets objectified a lot, maybe it is just me but back and forth he is always seem as a "the lovable idiot" by others.

[Gif ID: A gif of Bolin from the legend of Korra, he is leaning his face on his hand, with a relaxed smile while blinking. End of ID.]

To get to my point I am gonna go back to his backstory, his parents died and Bolin became homeless alongside his brother, normally children in these sort of situation are easily exploited by adults which is what happened.

Bolin seemed more naive than Mako, he is younger and Mako probably sheltered him, basically becoming the "parent" in the situation, incredible traumatic and it lead him to developing a rough exterior towards others because he knew that people like him and Bolin would be taken advantage by others.

This leads me to how Bolin views himself, he fights for a living and it might have lead him to develop a complex, Bolin is the "naive one" to contrast Mako being the "tough one", he holds the responsibility his father or mother should have but neither of them have that luxury.

[Image ID: two images from the legend of Korra, both featuring Bolin wearing his NukTuk outfit. The first one is a black and white image of Ginger and Bolin, she is holding into him while staring at the viewer, meanwhile Bolin has a fierce expression on his face with one hand raised, pointing at the viewer. The second image is Varrick, whose only hands are featured, doing a camera gesture at Bolin, with a confused expression. End of ID.]

Him becoming an "actor" made me think that all those years of being a fire ferret really did something to his self esteem, dressing up as a stereotype of a water tribe attire that shows off his body, like that isn't bad per say, Bolin knows he has a good body because that's a "tool" for him to work.

Years later that scene finally makes sense. All his story arcs didn't truly make sense to me at first because it felt like Bolin was being tossed around, now it made sense because he would allow himself to be tossed around by others if that meant he received the validation and love that he lacked as a child that got his childhood taken away from him.

Deep down Bolin just wants validation for others, he just wants to be liked for something and maybe deep down he knows he is being exploited by others but that's literally how he grew up, by being exploited. He sees this as a normal thing, so to Bolin being wanted or liked means being exploited.

[Image description: three screenshots of the legend of Korra. The first one is Bolin with a sad expression holding a flower bouquet with Pabu on his shoulder, watching Korra and Mako kiss. The second one features Bolin and Opal beifong, she's kissing his cheek while he looks surprised. The third one features Eska and Bolin standing next to each other. End of id.]

Do you see a pattern in those relationships Bolin had with women? He always tried to impress them, seeking for their validation, everyone likes validation but on Bolin case there are patterns to it, he doesn't notice how Korra isn't interested nor how Eska was being controlling towards him(I do say that Opal may be the exception to the bad pattern thing but my point stands).

Conclusion:

I wanna study him under a microscope byee<33

Edit: Let's not forget that there was a INCREDIBLE unnecessary scene of Bolin kissing Ginger against her consent and it was played for jokes. It was extremely out of pocket and I felt very out of character (to me at least), it sucks.