#on a real its so good so far !! i had to give me husband a treat for his bday

[masuchu]

masu speedrun zhongli birthday fic challenge [extra hard edition] [caffeine overdose edition]

[redroomreflections]

Just Once More

Natasha Romanoff xFem!Reader

Missed Connections Universe - you can read here.

Summary: Princess Natasha of Russia, is to be wed to Prince Amir of Senoria, the only problem is his younger sister catches her eye.

This installment: Natasha is lonely while Prince Amir is away.

Warnings: Cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play, virginity loss

Note: Another contribution to society. It was in my drafts and I left it here to rot like all my other drafts. Then I picked it up because I was inspired by kinktober.

w/c: 6.3k

The heavy silk sheets felt more like a cage than a comfort. Natasha turned onto her side for what felt like the hundredth time that night, her restless body unable to find peace. Her eyes remained wide open, staring at the ceiling, while her mind raced with thoughts she couldn’t quiet.

The palace was silent. Too silent.

She could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, each second pulling her further from any chance of sleep. The bed, grand and soft, offered no relief from the gnawing ache in her chest. The emptiness beside her, Amir’s absence, was supposed to be a reprieve. But all it did was remind her of how far apart they had grown—how hollow everything between them had become. She supposed they had a good marriage so far. They barely bickered, hung out often, and had a lot of fun together. He simply didn't feel like a husband. She didn't love him. Not in the romantic sense at least.

She exhaled sharply, frustration building as she twisted the sheets around her fingers. She thought she’d be better at this by now—this life of royalty, this performance. But the truth lingered just below the surface: no title, no crown could cover the fact that she couldn’t give him what he needed. What they expected.

An heir.

The word itself made her feel sick.

Natasha's jaw tightened as she turned over again, her back now facing the wide, empty room. The weight of it all pressed down on her, a constant, heavy reminder of her failure. It wasn't just Amir. It was the whispers in the halls, the subtle looks from the court, and the cold distance that had grown between her and the man she had promised to stand beside.

She couldn’t do it anymore. Not tonight. In the darkness, Natasha pushed the covers off her, the chill of the night air hitting her bare skin. She moved with quiet determination, slipping out of bed and reaching for the robe draped over a nearby chair. As she tied it around her waist, her heart pounded—not from fear, but from the desperate need for something real, something she hadn’t felt in far too long.

Her feet moved before she could think to stop them, carrying her toward the door. She didn’t need to think. She knew where she was going. Natasha glanced down the hall, ensuring it was empty before slipping out of her room. The palace was asleep, its inhabitants tucked away in their rooms, none the wiser to her midnight escape.

The sound of her bare feet against the cold marble floor echoed softly as she made her way to your bed chambers. It was quiet on the trek from her sleeping quarters.

Your room was closer to the guest wing than hers. A benefit of being a royal sibling, she thought, as opposed to the consort of one. The palace had never felt quite like home to her, and her husband never like a husband.

But you? You were something else entirely.

Natasha was used to the feeling of loneliness, but somehow it had intensified over the past six months, growing heavier as time went on. In the midst of it, you were the bright spot in her otherwise monotonous life.

Your friendship came as a surprise. Natasha had always been the odd one out, an outsider, someone to observe rather than befriend. She found that you were the total opposite of your brother. While he was all business and formal, you were warmth and at ease. Where Amir’s touch was distant, and calculated, yours was always genuine, whether a brush of fingers in passing or a comforting hand on her arm when she needed it most. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything—it couldn’t. But the line between what was and what wasn’t had blurred long ago, and tonight, it had all become too much to ignore.

Natasha slowed her steps as she neared your door, her heart pounding louder than the soft footfalls on the marble behind her. She pressed her hand to the cool wood, hesitating for a brief moment. What was she doing? She wasn’t supposed to be here, not like this, and certainly not while Amir was away. But the ache in her chest, the unbearable weight of everything she couldn’t say, pushed her forward.

You were the only one who made her feel like herself again, the only one who didn’t look at her and see a crown, or a title, or a failure. She'd kept her promise not to tell your secret. You had intentionally kept your distance because of it. Though she couldn't figure out why. Her hand came to the door in rapid succession. One. Two. Three.

There was no turning back now.

She listened intently, her head cocked slightly as she tried to make out any signs of movement from inside. A faint rustling sound caught her attention, and she took it as an invitation to push open the door.

"Y/n?" She asked softly.

"Who is it?" Your voice sounded, a bit confused. "Natasha? Is that you?"

"Yes. May I enter?"

"Of course."

You had been in bed when she'd knocked, your feet propped up against the pillows as you read a book. You sat up in bed, the delicate fabric of your nightgown shifting as you moved. It was a simple slip dress, made of soft, lightweight material that clung loosely to your form, falling just below your knees. The top was sleeveless, dipping low between your breasts, the neckline accented with a fine lace trim.

You placed your book down, sliding off the edge of the bed and walking towards the door.

"Is everything alright?" You asked. "It's a little late."

"I know," Natasha sighed. "I just..."

You opened the door wider, a soft smile gracing your lips as you stepped aside.

"Come in."

Natasha looked around. It's the first time she's been in your bedroom. Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the space before stepping inside. The room was cozy, far more inviting than her chambers. A soft glow emanated from the single lantern on your nightstand, casting warm shadows across the walls. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, likely from the small bundle of dried flowers near the window. It was a different than the cold, impersonal decor of her room, which always felt more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary.

She lingered by the door, her fingers brushing the smooth wood as she took it all in. Everything about the space felt more... you. The personal touches, the lived-in comfort, the warmth—it made her realize how lonely she felt in the stark emptiness of her quarters.

“This is... nice,” Natasha said, her voice quiet, almost as if she didn’t want to disturb the peace of the room.

You closed the door behind her, the soft click cutting through the silence. “It’s nothing special, really,” you shrugged. “Just a place to sleep.”

Natasha's eyes flickered to the bed, where you’d just been lounging, the impression of your body still visible in the rumpled sheets. For a moment, she was tempted to tell you why she was there—how the weight of her title, her inability to provide an heir, and the growing distance between her and Amir were suffocating her. But the words lodged themselves in her throat, heavy with the burden of expectation.

"Ah, missing my brother aren't you?" You guessed.

"Yes," she nodded, not bothering to hide the lie.

"That's why you're here?"

"Yes."

"Oh." You looked away for a moment, clearing your throat before meeting her gaze. There was a brief silence as the weight of your words hung in the air. Natasha could see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes, though you tried to mask it with a soft smile. It made her chest tighten, a pang of guilt twisting in her stomach. She hadn’t come here to talk about Amir, but how could she explain that without unraveling everything?

You gestured towards the bed, inviting her to sit. Natasha perched on the edge of the mattress, the soft comforter a stark contrast to the stiff, unwelcoming sheets in her room. She ran her fingers over the fabric, letting herself get lost in the simple act of touch.

You walked over to the nightstand, the floor cold against your bare feet. You turned back to Natasha, a playful glint in your eye. “Would you like to play a game?” You opened your nightstand drawer and pulled out a well-worn deck of playing cards, the corners slightly frayed from use.

“I thought you might be missing my brother,” you teased, fanning the cards out in your hand. “But maybe you just need someone to play with.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint smile, the weight of her worries momentarily lifted by the simple gesture. “What do you have in mind?”

You grinned, shuffling the cards with a practiced hand. “How about a classic game of Rummy? Or we could play a round of Blackjack—unless you’re feeling lucky.”

“Blackjack sounds good,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

As you both settled onto the edge of the bed, the tension in the air faded, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. You dealt the cards, the quiet shuffle and snap of the deck punctuating the stillness of the night.

You slid the deck over, and she took it. She dealt out the rest of the cards, taking a moment to glance at her hand.

"So, how's life as Princess Consort of Senoria soon to be future Queen," You asked.

Natasha frowned slightly, her fingers tapping idly on the cards in her hand. "It's been good."

"Just good?" You arched an eyebrow.

Natasha shrugged, the question weighing on her mind. It was the first time she'd been asked that question, and it wasn't one she had an answer to. "I think things are going well."

"You mean my brother hasn't been showing you a good time?"

Natasha shook her head. "No. No, no. We've just been busy. There's a lot of things going on and we've had our projects."

You smirked. "Well, if you ever want a better tour, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"When you're not avoiding me?" Natasha blurted.

You stopped, surprised at the sudden candor. You hadn't expected her to be so direct, especially not about that. You paused, a guilty expression washing over your features.

"I wasn't..." You shook your head. "I have my own life to live."

"And yet, here you are," she pointed out.

"In my bedroom yes," You nodded. "It's usually where I am at this hour."

Natasha pursed her lips. She didn't believe you, and from the way you averted your gaze, neither did you. You hadn't seen each other outside of public events since the wedding. You liked it that way. Less room for confusion.

"Something's bothering you," You guessed as you played your hand.

"How would you know?" She shot back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Well, I haven't seen you in months, so..."

Natasha's gaze fell, her hand hovering over the cards. She didn't know if she could trust you. You tilted your head, studying her expression closely. “You know, if you wanted to talk about it…” You began, trailing off as Natasha shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but the tightness around her eyes betrayed her.

“Are you?” You pressed gently, your curiosity piqued. “It’s been six months, and I can’t help but notice how you light up around others, but you seem… different around Amir.”

Natasha sighed, her gaze dropping to the cards in her hand. “It’s just… there’s a lot of pressure,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone expects me to provide an heir, and it feels like every day that passes just adds to that weight.”

You nodded, absorbing her words. “That’s a heavy burden to carry,” you said softly. “Have you talked to Amir about how you feel?”

“He’s… focused on his duties,” She answered a hint of sadness in her tone. “I don’t want to add to his stress. He has so much to manage already.”

“But you matter too, Natasha,” You urged, your brow furrowing. “You’re more than just a title. You deserve to be happy, to feel supported.”

A flicker of vulnerability crossed her face. “I don’t know if he sees me that way,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Sometimes I wonder if he even notices I’m struggling.”

You squeezed her hand gently, determined to show her that she was not alone. “He should,” you said firmly. “You’re not just a consort; you’re a partner. He needs to know how you’re feeling.”

Natasha met your gaze, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty in her eyes. “You make it sound so easy,” she replied, a small smile breaking through her sadness. “But it’s not.”

“Maybe not easy,” You agreed. "I know my brother." There was a pause.

"Can I ask you a question?" Natasha asked. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

"Shoot." You said as you reached over for a sip of water.

"How much do you know about sex?"

You choked on the sip of water, trying to cover up the cough. "Not a lot."

"You seem very informed," Natasha countered.

"I've read a few books." You set down your goblet. "Listened to stories as you have done. I think you'd know more than me. Seeing as you've done it and all."

"Not willingly." She muttered and your eyes widened. "I don't mean he's hurt me. I just...it's not exciting. I used to hear the handmaidens talk back in the palace at home. They would describe it with such passion and emotion."

"And you're not getting that?" You cringed. Hearing of your brother and Natasha in bed was the last thing you needed.

"I don't even think we're having sex," she admitted. "He's good to me. He's gentle. I feel things but..."

You let out a groan. "God, you are my sister now and I never needed to hear this."

"I'm sorry," She frowned. "I have no one to speak of this with."

"Why not your mother? Surely she can help."

"My mother?" She blanched. "No. Absolutely not. She's more old-fashioned. She thinks I should fulfill my duties and that's it. What if things we are doing currently is what prevents us from having an heir? What if I'm not doing something right?"

You shifted a bit. "I don't know if I'm the person to ask about this."

"Please," she begged. "You're the only one I can trust."

"Alright, alright." You sighed. "Look, you just need to focus on the act and not what happens after."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, enjoy yourself. Do what feels good, not what Amir wants."

"He's my husband," Natasha blinked.

"Exactly."

"So, I should do what makes me happy?"

"Exactly," You repeated. "Do something for yourself. I think he would enjoy it." You would need to wash your brain after this conversation.

Natasha bit her bottom lip, considering the idea. Maybe you were right. Maybe she did need to take control of the situation, rather than let Amir lead. Maybe if she tried something different, she would feel more connected to him.

She took a deep breath. "Is that what you do?"

"What?"

"Do you do what feels good for yourself?"

You stared at her for a moment. "That's not appropriate."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not married," You countered. "It's different."

"How?"

"It's just not the same," You shook your head.

"But..." Natasha paused. "Are you not satisfied either?"

You blinked. "Natasha, it's not about satisfaction."

"So, you are?"

"This is not the conversation I was expecting to have with you," You mumbled, your cheeks heating up. Natasha deflated. It seems she would be getting nowhere. Not that it was any of her business.

"I'm sorry," She muttered.

"It's alright."

"No, it's not."

"Hey," You took her hand. "If you're not happy then do something about it."

"What if I'm not supposed to be happy?"

"Then make the most of what you have." You offered her a kind smile. "There's more to life than just a marriage, Nat."

She returned the smile, grateful for your friendship. Maybe things weren't so hopeless after all. Maybe she could find a way to make things work with Amir. And maybe, just maybe, she could be happy.

"I don't want to go back to my room," Natasha said. "It's lonely."

"Do you want to stay here?"

"Really?" Her eyes lit up, a look of excitement flashing across her features.

"Of course," You nodded. "I mean, I'd feel bad kicking you out."

"Thank you," She smiled. "I'll be gone in the morning. You won't even know I was here."

"Oh, I'll know," You chuckled.

"Well, then maybe we'll have breakfast together," She suggested. "Would that be alright?"

"I would love that," You grinned. "But I need to get some sleep. I have a busy day tomorrow." You returned the deck of cards to your nightstand. You reach over to turn off the lantern.

Natasha's expression fell, a slight pout forming on her lips. She stood, turning away from you, to take off her robe and drape it over a nearby chair. As Natasha moved away to remove her robe, you felt an unexpected flutter of nerves in your stomach. It was one thing to share a space with her while playing cards, the tension between you eased by laughter and light conversation. But now, as the soft fabric slipped from her shoulders and hung over the chair, the atmosphere shifted.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything other than the way her silhouette contrasted against the dim light. The way she carried herself was both confident and delicate, a combination that left you feeling unsteady.

Your heart raced as you considered the implications of her staying the night. It was thrilling, yet terrifying. The very idea sent a rush of warmth through you, mixed with the fear of crossing an unspoken boundary. What if she misread your kindness? What if this moment changed everything between you?

“I—uh, I’ll just,” you stammered, trying to regain your composure. You busied yourself straightening the covers on the bed, your hands fidgeting nervously as you avoided looking directly at her. “I’ll get you some blankets.” You said, inadvertently referring to the way her nipples hardened at the slightest bit of cool air.

“Hey,” Natasha said softly, her voice cutting through your internal disorder. She folded her arms over her chest. You finally met her gaze, and the warmth in her eyes made your heart skip. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m fine.”

Her reassurance did little to calm your nerves. You could feel the weight of the silence stretching between you, thick with unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings. “It’s just… I want you to be comfortable,” you managed, trying to maintain a casual tone while your heart raced.

“Trust me, I am,” she said, took a step closer on her side of the bed, she smiled.

You took a breath. She was right. It was just a friendly gesture. There was nothing more to it. You were just being polite. You forced a smile and climbed into the bed, slipping beneath the sheets. Natasha hesitated a moment, then joined you.

She rested her head on the pillow, lying on her back. You matched her position. She could barely make out your features in the dim light.

"So, you are to marry Hosi of Wakanda?" She asked.

"I guess so," You sighed.

"I'm sure he will treat you well."

"Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation."

"Which is?"

"He's a good man."

"That might be the problem," You muttered. "He's a man."

Natasha's brow furrowed slightly, catching the hint of your reluctance. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the weight of your thoughts, but the truth lingered in the air between you. “It’s just… I’m not really into men, you know? Hosi might be a good man, but he’s still a man.”

A flicker of understanding crossed Natasha’s face, and she leaned back against the bed, her expression softening. “I see.”

“It’s complicated,” you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper as if saying it out loud might somehow make it more real. “I’ve known for a long time that I’m attracted to women, but it doesn’t matter. In this world, it’s expected that I marry a man. That I produce heirs. That I fulfill my duty.”

“Doesn’t sound like a life you want for yourself,” Natasha observed gently.

You looked away, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. “It’s not. But what choice do I have? I can’t just defy my family. I can’t risk their wrath. And besides,” you sighed, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes, “who would want me? A woman who loves women? That’s not exactly what the kingdom needs.”

Natasha regarded you with a seriousness that made your heart race. “You deserve to be happy, regardless of what anyone else thinks. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your desires for the sake of duty.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and profound, as you wrestled with the truth in them. You wanted to believe it, to embrace the idea that your happiness mattered. But the constraints of your reality weighed heavily on you, and fear clawed at your throat.

"If you could marry anyone and be anywhere what would your wife be like?"

"She'd be someone who understands me."

"Who's that?"

"I don't know." You answered honestly. "She'd be kind. She'd be fierce."

"And?"

"Smart, strong." You sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," She assured you. "It matters to you."

"I don't have the luxury of choosing." You sighed. "I just wish I'd taken the chance to lie with Akira before this marriage."

"Akira?"

"The woman from the ball in your kingdom. The handmaiden," You reminded her.

"Did you have feelings for her?"

"No," You admitted. It wasn’t entirely the truth. She didn’t need to hear it. "I didn't. It was just physical."

"Ah," Natasha nodded. "How do you imagine it would be with a woman?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Princess," You teased.

"Well, you're my friend. I want to know what makes you happy," She answered earnestly.

"I suppose it would be tender," You pondered. "Caring, passionate."

"And how would you imagine the act itself?"

You paused. The question had thrown you. You had never spoken of sex, or pleasure, in such detail with anyone before. And now, here you were, lying in bed with your brother's wife, discussing intimacy.

"I'm not sure," You replied carefully, uncertain how to respond.

"You've never pleasured yourself?"

"Of course, I have," You laughed, hoping to dispel the sudden tension. "That's the question you've been trying to get me to answer all night."

"How do you touch yourself?"

"Are you sure you want to know the answer?" You quirked an eyebrow. "You're a married woman now, remember?"

Natasha blushed. "It's not a sin to be curious."

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow, facing her. "Well, when I'm alone and there's no one to interrupt, I start by undressing. I let my hands wander over my body, feeling the warmth of my skin."

"And then?"

"I imagine what it would feel like if it was someone else touching me." You continued, your voice dropping to a low whisper. "I close my eyes and pretend that it's a lover's hands on my skin, caressing me, bringing me pleasure."

Natasha's eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite place.

"Do you think of a specific person?" She asked.

"Sometimes."

"Who is it, usually?"

"It's not always the same person," You answered, evading her question.

"So, it's not the same person each time?"

"No," You replied, your breath catching as Natasha's hand brushed against yours.

"So, it changes."

"Yes." You closed your eyes. Her hands rest on your, encircling your wrist. Your skin is hypersensitive to her touch as she strokes your inner wrist. "You are my brother's wife."

"And that bothers you."

"It shouldn't."

"But it does."

"Can we not do this?"

"Do what?"

"This," You gestured between the two of you. "Don't do something you are going to regret. "

"Do you think I'm not going to regret this?"

"Regret what, exactly?"

"You and me, lying in this bed together, talking about these things."

"I'm unsure," You furrowed your brow.

"What do you want, Y/N?"

"I shouldn't have brought you here."

"But you did. Why?"

"You said you were lonely," You answered. "I didn't want you to feel that way."

"I appreciate the sentiment," She replied.

"I didn't want you to sleep alone, and I didn't want to wake my servant."

"That's not an answer."

"What do you want from me?" You questioned. "What are we doing?"

"We're just talking."

"About sex."

"About pleasure."

"You're my sister-in-law."

"That doesn't mean we can't talk about it."

"We can't go down this path," You sighed. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because," You struggled to find the words. Before you could silence the thoughts racing through your mind, Natasha leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn't passionate or life-changing. It was a simple pressing of lips. It ignited a fire deep within your belly. You could taste the remnants of wine on her lips.

She pulled away, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Is that not okay?"

"You're my brother's wife," You repeated, almost as if reminding yourself.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Natasha whispered, her lips mere inches from yours.

"This is dangerous," You warned, your resolve crumbling.

"Only if we let it be," She murmured, closing the distance between you once again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense. Her lips were soft and warm, sending shivers of pleasure through you.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you crackled with tension and desire. You could feel the heat rising in your body, the need for more consuming you. You let out a moan as Natasha's tongue danced with yours. Her hands were on your skin, exploring, caressing, bringing you closer to her.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your heart racing. You knew that if you kept going, there would be no turning back. But the look in Natasha's eyes was enough to convince you that you didn't want to turn back.

"Natasha, are you sure about this?" You whispered your voice husky with need.

"I want this," She answered, her eyes dark with lust. "Do you?"

"Yes," You breathed, losing yourself in the moment.

You surrendered to her, giving in to the passion that had been simmering beneath the surface. You gripped the fabric of her dress as you kissed her. Your tongues danced, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Natasha's hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, teasing.

The heat between you was intoxicating. You could feel her body pressed against yours, the heat of her skin searing into yours. You wanted more. You needed more.

You pulled her dress off and tossed it aside. You couldn't get enough of her. Her skin was soft and warm, and the feeling of her body against yours was exhilarating.

Natasha's hands explored your body, tracing the contours of your curves. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through you. You moaned as her fingers trailed over your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh. She swirled her thumb over your nipple, toying with it through the fabric.

"Has anyone ever touched you like this before?" She asked. Her question was met with a quiet whimper. She leaned forward and caught the hardening bud between her lips. You gasped as she suckled it, sending bolts of pleasure through you.

"Never," You breathed, the word coming out as a moan. Of course, you'd come close to this but you never allowed anyone to touch you so intimately. There had been quick fumbling and the ghost of fingers along your body but nothing like this. Natasha's mouth was talented, so wet and warm. It took everything you had not to come from the stimulation.

"You're sensitive," She hummed, moving her attention to the other side. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," You moaned as you rested a hand on the back of her head. "Don't stop."

"I won't," She promised.

You let yourself sink into the sensation, the feeling of her lips on your skin, her tongue swirling around your nipple, her hands caressing your body. You knew it was wrong to be here with her like this. You'd hate yourself in the morning. But right now, all you could focus on was the pleasure, the exquisite feeling of her touch.

Natasha kissed a path down your body, her tongue tracing a trail along your skin.

"Take this off," You muttered to her as you pushed at her shift. You needed some form of control in this situation. If you let her take charge, there would be no stopping this.

Natasha obliged and tossed the garment aside. She resumed her exploration of your body, her lips trailing lower and lower. She tugged at yours too, pushing it over your head.

She returned to her position at your chest. She nipped at the sensitive skin of your stomach. You shuddered and arched into her, craving more contact. Her hands skimmed up the length of your thighs, pushing them apart. She settled herself between your legs, her breath hot against your skin.

You watched her with bated breath as she moved her mouth to the apex of your thighs.

"Fuck," You swore as her tongue traced a path along your inner thigh.

"Does that feel good?" She asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Yes," You breathed. "Don't stop."

Natasha chuckled softly, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. She resumed her exploration, her lips moving closer and closer to your core. She'd never done this before. Neither had you. You'd had lovers but they'd never gotten this far. It had always been hurried, awkward encounters that had left you wanting. But Natasha... Natasha knew exactly what she was doing.

She kissed your mound. Your legs trembled, and you fought to keep them open. You wanted to give her access to everything. Her tongue traced a line along the seam of your pussy, teasing and tasting. You whimpered, unable to hold back. Natasha seemed to like the taste of you as she licked again.

"I thought you didn't know about this," You muttered as a curse formed on the tip of your tongue. "Where did you learn?"

"I've read a few books too," She answered, her voice thick with desire.

"And books taught you how to do this?"

"I like to learn new things," She smirked before flicking her tongue against your clit.

Your body tensed, and you gasped, the sensation so intense.

"Natasha, fuck."

She hummed in response, the vibrations driving you wild.

You reached out and buried your fingers in her hair, needing something to ground you.

"Who knew the princess knew such colorful words," She teased as she pressed her lips to the sensitive bud.

"Shut up and keep going," You growled, pulling her back to you.

Natasha chuckled but complied, her tongue exploring the length of your sex. She teased and tasted, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the pleasure building inside you, the tension coiling in your core.

She lapped at your clit, drawing the sensitive bud into her mouth. You moaned, the sound reverberating off the walls. She looked up, her green eyes meeting yours, and you felt the coil in your belly tighten.

"I want to make you feel good," She whispered, her voice husky with desire. "I want to watch you fall apart."

"Keep doing what you're doing," You breathed.

Natasha smiled and dipped her tongue into your folds, fucking you with her tongue.

You cried out, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Natasha, I'm going to-"

She didn't let you finish. She slid a finger inside you, curling it, stroking that perfect spot. The slight pain of being penetrated for the first time caught you off guard. You tightened your legs around her head, and Natasha groaned against you. The sensation drove you over the edge, and you came hard, crying out as the pleasure washed over you.

Natasha rode out the waves of your orgasm, her tongue lapping at your juices.

You fell back against the pillows, panting, the aftershocks rippling through your body.

"That was... incredible," You gasped, the words barely audible.

Natasha chuckled and crawled up beside you, her fingers still slick with your arousal.

"I hope that was okay," Natasha said shyly.

"That was... better than okay," You sighed, the pleasure still lingering. You quite enjoyed the ache between your thighs.

"So, that was your first time?"

"It was," You confirmed. "And you? You've never done this before?"

"No," She shook her head. "You were the first woman I've been with."

"So, how did you know what to do?"

"I told you," She replied, a smirk on her face. "I like to read."

"Books don't teach you how to do that," You insisted, shaking your head.

"I'm naturally gifted then," She shrugged.

"You're insufferable," You rolled your eyes, despite the smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm not the one who's insufferable," She grinned, leaning in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on her lips. It was erotic and intoxicating. You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I want to pleasure you too," You whispered against her lips. "Of the two of us, you're the one who hasn't had an orgasm before."

"Is that what it's called? What just happened to you at the end?" Natasha asked.

"That was an orgasm," You nodded.

"That's a strange name for it," She chuckled.

"Well, that's what it's called," You shrugged. "What would you call it?"

"I'm not sure," She said thoughtfully. "Something nicer than an orgasm."

"An 'orgasm' is a perfectly fine word," You laughed.

"It's not," She shook her head.

"What books have you been reading?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, the usual," She shrugged, feigning innocence. "Poetry. The Bible."

"You've been reading erotic poetry," You laughed.

"Perhaps," She winked.

"Then it's only fair that I should return the favor," You replied, leaning in for another kiss.

"I'd like that," She murmured.

You rolled her onto her back, taking the opportunity to explore her body.

Her skin was soft and warm, and she squirmed beneath your touch.

You trailed your fingers over her breasts, teasing her nipples. She gasped, arching into your touch.

"Do you like that?" You whispered.

"Yes," She breathed, her voice thick with desire.

You bent your head, capturing a nipple between your lips. You sucked gently, swirling your tongue around the hardened bud. Natasha moaned, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her.

"Fuck," She swore, her voice cracking.

"Good girl," You smirked, the praise escaping your lips before you could stop it. Your fingers trailed a path down her body. She was soft to the touch, her body trembling under yours.

"Y/N, please," She begged, the desire in her voice evident.

"I've got you," You soothed, your hand moving between her thighs. You felt around the soft curls of her pussy,

"Fuck," Natasha gasped as your fingers brushed against her folds. You dipped a finger inside, finding her soaked with desire.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," You whispered, your voice full of promise.

"Please," She breathed.

You slid a finger inside her, and she moaned, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure through you.

"That's a good girl," You cooed, her pussy clenching around your finger.

"It feels good," She whimpered, her hips bucking.

"I know, sweet girl," You soothed.

You added a second finger, curling them, stroking that perfect spot. Natasha cried out, the sound echoing off the walls. You could tell she was close, her body trembling beneath yours. You kissed her quickly, swallowing her moans, hoping that one of the guards wouldn't come to investigate.

"I want you to come for me," You whispered, the words coming out as a command.

Natasha cried out, her orgasm hitting her hard. You rode out the waves, continuing to stroke her, drawing out her pleasure.

"Good girl," You praised, pulling her into a deep kiss.

"That was amazing," She gasped, the words barely audible. "Are you sure this was your first time doing that?"

"It was my first time doing it to someone else," You reminded her. "Though I'm sure you wouldn't like to hear about me and Akira."

"No," Natasha shook her head.

"Well, now we're even," You smiled.

"Thank you," She murmured, snuggling closer to you.

"I didn't do it for thanks," You replied, stroking her hair.

"Can we do it again?" She asked.

"Natasha," You began. You didn't want to disappoint her. She was still your brother's wife.

"Please, just once more," She begged, her eyes pleading.

"Just once more," You relented, unable to deny her.

"Good," She smiled, capturing your lips in a kiss.

"And after that?" You asked, breaking the kiss.

"We'll see where the night takes us," She replied, her eyes full of mischief.

You surrendered to her, losing yourself in the pleasure and the sin.

[ckret2]

Any thoughts on the Stodehttcennoc code and all the Ciphertology lore it gave us? It’s interesting to get such a look at what an actual bill cipher cult looks like, even if the majority of it is played for surreal laughs.

yeah, i'm changing all the death valley girls' last names to Cipherwife

Right when I thought we'd run out of big packets of lore and were down to the dregs, we get the stodehttcennoc story, immediately one of my favorite things to come out of TBOB. In no particular order:

a Snapewives reference??? Unexpected. Hilarious.

i LOVE the mental image of just how unhinged Bill must have looked running around in Silas's body. Like i'm imagining that by the time of the big showdown at the end he's wheeling around his limbs like Jack Skellington dressed as a scarecrow cackling like a maniac surrounded by flame. Did he have fun, i think he had fun, it sounds like he had a lot of fun. I had fun.

on a doylist level i understand that Alex wrote Bill stealing all the wives in town because that is, in fact, something that real cult leaders tend to do. however real cult leaders tend to do it because they're straight human men horny for human women and realized their power lets them get away with anything they want. so on a watsonian level, why'd BILL do it?

LOVE the look into how Bill recruits people into a cult. His interview is actually a very good example of REAL cult recruitment tactics: mystical manipulation (using tricks to make you look magical/holy/psychic/etc); driving wedges between a recruit and their loved ones; flattering the recruit, offering to help their dreams come true; but dangling the answer to all their problems just out of reach, only after they make a big commitment (often financial) (and then you require them to keep upping their commitment); pressuring them FAST to make a decision, don't give them any time to think... that's actually how it works, all packed into one page

did bill take 100+ wives because HE's horny for human women? Is he horny ONLY for female humans or did he just figure he couldn't get away with also marrying the males in 1952 rural Kansas?

Something about Bill being delighted about having so many fingers just tickles me. Especially after he dissed humans for only having five fingers in TBOB. Human hands are a joke, are they?? Seems like five fingers are enough to make him happy! ... i realize how that sounds, i won't apologize for it

I feel like a cult that's willing to eat off its fingers for you and turn a blind eye to you taking 100+ wives would probably not draw the line at something as prosaic as homosexuality. Bill, you could have had 100+ husbands too. Why didn't you.

to me, somehow the goofiness & speed at which this cult came together felt more sincerely Gravity Falls-ish than most of TBOB. Like TBOB is still Gravity Falls, but most of the content doesn't feel 100% Gravity Falls. Bill Speed-Recruits A Cult While Wearing A Corpse He's Frantically Trying To Keep From Falling Apart feels closer to 100%. It's got that je ne sais quoi, that core dumb silliness.

Why did you want over 100 wives, Bill Cipher. Why only wives. What was your motivation.

This works well with my headcanon that Bill's bread & butter isn't just manipulating individuals, but specifically cult leadership. And it's given me a lot of material to work with in as far as writing him as a cult leader. I underestimated how himself he's willing to be while courting fresh victims, I figured there'd be more "trying to sound normally appealing by human standards" going on. He calls his soon-to-be cultists dim plasma bags before he even started pitching his cult. He's REALLY willing to let his charisma do all the heavy lifting. His technique clearly isn't "convince you that he's offering the things you want" but "convince you that you want the things he's offering"

Was stealing all those wives just a power trip, Bill? Is that all it was? If it was, wouldn't persuading guys to marry you in 50s Kansas be an even bigger power move??

how did Silas get involved in this. We don't see Bill take one corpse and KEEP piloting it for long periods of time like that anywhere else, even though it's clearly an effective method of interacting with humans. Was Silas just a conveniently available corpse, or did he make a deal with Bill before he died? Or maybe Bill DOES do this frequently, and it's how he starts most of his cults.

He CAN'T have taken all those wives for "I'm attracted to humans but only the female ones" purposes. In spite of the sheer quantity of references to female exes I am unable to believe that this triangle is heterosexual.

I'm requiring anyone who draws young skinny white human Bill Ciphers from hereon to switch from the sexyman human Bill to Silas Birchtree. 1950s huckster with a golly-gee-whiz face and evil in his eyes and rot on his breath is the pinnacle of what any young skinny white human Bill could possibly be. Also it's interesting to see Bill's justification for being a snappy dresser, that it's a trojan horse for chaos.

questions about bill's orientation aside, my gut says Bill MUST have wanted a bunch of wives and not husbands for some other reason, he didn't ACTUALLY want 100+ wives for sexual/romantic purposes.

or did he

bill explain the cipherwives

[bulbabutt]

okay. lets bite the bullet and talk about 2012. lets talk about child abuse, familial abuse, generational abuse, toxic family units, whatever you wanna call it. lets talk about it and whether it exists in this show. i actually encourage you to read this no matter what your take is, just to hear it out. let me be FUCKING clear: i love this show, but i get scared to talk about it seriously. everyone on every side is defensive all the time but i love every turtles show to no end.

this post is going to go over so well and not controversially at all.

precursor: every splinter is some level of shitty dad. he always has been. the fucking bare bones of the character is that he raised his children to kill the man who killed his own father. thats inherently fucked up. every splinter has some level of fucked up about him. maybe hes inattentive, or neglectful, or strict, or secretive, maybe hes just not very good at dealing with his kids. splinter is supposed to be far from perfect. thats what makes him splinter. maybe he grows over the course of a series, maybe he doesnt. maybe hes supposed to be shitty his whole life, maybe hes not. thats just splinter. each is adapted differently depending on the story being told.

and 2012 has a very interesting tone to its story.

lets start at the beginning, back in japan. this is season 3, was this story what they intended when they started writing the show back in season 1? probably not, theres probably things they would have written differently had they known this was where splinter's story started. thats kind of the way tv works, you add the details later. but for our sake of analyzing the character of splinter as a whole, it seems best to start here as if its all intentional.

hamato yoshi is a member of the hamato clan. theyre a very traditional old ninja clan in the modern world, they have old feuds and theyre trying to keep their culture alive. they're literally the last of a clan of ninjas like this, having (supposedly) defeated the foot clan (their generational enemies) back when yoshi was a baby. hes set out to lead next, and its very important to him. and yet hes married to a woman who works in the city, a modern woman who doesnt live the life he does. she even moved to be with him. i feel the need to compare this to how men in the real world who want traditional wives never go for women who are willing to be their housewives, always try to break down the independent ones. splinter seems unconcerned with how his wife wants to live. with how she wants their daughter to be raised.

im not necessarily saying this is how this comes off in the show, but i find it interesting to think about. this is absolutely the most rounded version of tang shen as a character (thus far) it stops her being just a name on a page "hamato yoshi's love and the object of his enemies affections who died" and turns her into a woman who has a stake in the story. gives her more agency.

its very interesting that this show implies an actual relationship between tang shen and oroku saki, albeit a one-sided one that didnt work out, but they do seem to have parted on equal ground. the pair of them discuss yoshi's inattentive duties as a husband and father, that he's too obsessed with the tradition and lineage of his clan. honestly, if this woman just took her baby and left no one would blame her! he has his priorities set, and it leaves no room for her and their newborn baby. if she ran away with saki at this point, the story would make just as much sense.

but then disaster strikes, saki learns the truth about his family, that he was actually a child of the foot clan (honestly i wish we saw this play out instead of jumping ahead in the story but thats not what this post is about) and he kills he and yoshi's father. revenge for him having killed his. cycles of abuse and revenge that never end. the pair of them were raised in this society that values lineage like this, that would kill for it. its no wonder they both grew up this way.

anyway, tang shen is killed by a blow meant for yoshi, and saki takes their child and raises her. based on splinter's lack of desire to be a father so far in the story, its honestly not one you can blame him for. its fucked up, but it makes sense. saki does to miwa exactly what his father did to him. cycles of abuse and revenge.

yoshi loses everything, and moves to america. he's turned into splinter the mutant rat, and gains four turtle sons.

so as established, he's not exactly grown up with a stable family life. he obviously, while human, wasnt acting as a stable father for the child he intended to have. so how good is he at this?

ive talked before about how the 2003 show treats the turtles as kind of one whole unit. they don't have individual relationship arcs, they dont have overarching storylines where they grow apart or closer, they're always in each other's corner.

2012 makes this more dynamic. here we see that 15 years seeing no one but each other, growing under this splinter has come with its own quirks. these brothers dont understand each other that well. they get jealous of each others treatment, some are left out, some are misunderstood. raph resents leo, none of them appreciate what donnie does, mikey bothers everyone else for attention, etc. it creates a really good starting place for this show.

(the issue i have with this show is more that they never really open or close any of these beats, at least not in ways that last. but boy does it make for some good dramatic scenes)

we see over the course of this first season that splinter treats his children just as he was, as little ninjas more so than sons. he raises them to follow his traditions, the ones tang shen never cared for. but this is all he knows how to be! you cant really blame him.

most people bring up mikey as the quintessential example when they talk about this, i dont want to do that cuz i know you've all heard it. while i think his father does disrespect him and i think it is paid forward and his brothers do too, i'd rather talk about raph for a change.

in one episode, raph loses his temper. to teach him a lesson, splinter makes his brothers pelt him in training while insulting him any way they can, and tells him to just... not lose his temper. this is a terrible lesson in general. instead of trying to coax out why he might be angry, it just plays up that if he loses his temper bad things happen.

splinter in this episode basically encourages bullying. this comes up a lot when it comes to raph. to compare, in 2003 when raph loses his temper, hes told to blow off steam which he does. his brothers don't blame him for having emotional outbursts, they know thats just how he is so they know how he needs to cope with it. he's given the physical space to let it out.

im not saying this show needs to be like that show, im just saying thats a version of this story where the outcome is better for raph as a whole. since this outcome is not as good for him emotionally, you can tell why he's still got these emotional issues. splinter never helps him more than that. thats more why this raph differs from that one, if that makes sense. one has his family in his corner more than the other.

speaking of. raph has a pet turtle. this turtle is the only one he can talk to about how he feels. why might that be? it's the only thing hes kind and gentle to, and he refuses to let his brothers make him feel weak for being kind to it. where did he learn to be ashamed of being kind and gentle? thats a learned behaviour. in a house full of other men... yeah, that would happen. but whos values start that?

when this turtle gets some mutagen spilled on it, it tries to get revenge on his family. there is such a resentment going on here, its extremely juicy. the show chalks this up to "post mutation insanity", but its just as easy to think that everything raph has experienced has made him seem angry and resentful and perhaps scared to his pet, and that former pet wants raph to himself so they can be free. the frustrated venting of a child complaining about how no one understands him in such a big way turns slash into a vengeful monster, cuz thats all he's ever heard. it makes sense, he went from a little turtle to a fully cognizant adult aged being in an instant. emotionally no one would handle that well, and definitely not someone whos only ever heard the worst about people.

he comes around later. notably by being on his own, away from the hamatos.

again, im not saying the show is writing this intentionally, but i think tonally its in the zone where you could see this analysis as being canon. that these little pieces of narrative fit the worldview of a toxic family unit that isnt dealing with its problems in a healthy way.

there's other small aspects. leo slaps mikey early on, having seen it on his favourite show be used as a way of getting someone to calm down. mikey questions this behaviour, leo seems to feel bad about it when questioned. if we know that that behaviour was bad, what other things might he emulate in a similar way?

there's things like donnie's predatory behaviour towards april. in a world where all they ever knew was splinter's stories of the outside world (and perhaps television from decades earlier), hearing splinter's story of his love for tang shen, his rivalry with his own brother over her, you could actually see why he would behave the way he does, why he claims her the way he does. not as an excuse, but as a reason he learned the behaviour. and there's multiple opportunities for his father to tell him off. he never does. why would he? he knows no better.

this splinter, unlike every other, is not old or disabled. he doesnt require a cane (at the start, but also was never a good cane) and its interesting that despite being like... a 40 year old man in the peak of his life he does not accompany his sons on missions. he sits around doing nothing and disproves of his sons heroic actions. april literally calls him out for this at one point. the show is actually telling us some of this man's behaviour is wrong.

one of the more upsetting things that happens in this household is a lot of physical hitting. "theyre training" you might say. understandable. but when you see a lot of hitting come from the father in this show, played for a laugh, when you see splinter play the "drunk master" bit it makes you think. is that okay? isnt that a bit much?

the end of the muckman episode is a freeze frame of splinter (after having knocked out all of his sons to punish them for leaving while grounded) turning his anger on april and her running away. idk thats just not funny to me. this is a bit of the dating of the show, 2012 was a time where character's in shows were meaner, less affectionate, more bullying in nature. that was the sense of humour at the time. that isnt me making a judgment, it's just kind of the era. a pre steven universe world, if that makes sense. so many of the jokes that end in a hit aren't funny in 2024. especially not when they come from a parent.

when this splinter speaks about his kids to their brothers he often ends up insulting them. "you should be like mikey, he never overthinks because he doesn't think", this would be a big reason the boys speak about each other the way they do to their faces. puts forward a bit more of that bullying thing i mentioned earlier. if their own father talks about them like this, of course their brothers do too. so of course they join in and give payback.

again. splinter wasnt raised in a normal family. he was raised in a ninja commune with a bunch of murderers. he wasn't great with his wife and baby daughter. its not surprising that he's bad at this.

so, ive just said a bunch of things about what's wrong with this household as a whole. i think ive explained why the family unit behaves the way it does: generational teachings of feuds and traditional values. i dont think this makes the show bad! i, in fact, wish there was more of it. i think theres so much low hanging fruit that the show kind of wants to play with, but cant fully bring itself to.

specific example: during the space arc on a planet thats driving all the characters emotions against each other we get this amazing scene where raph screams at leo for being splinter's favourite. leo responds by hugging him. its really well done!

however its never brought up again, never actually getting into the nitty gritty of why raph feels like that is exactly what i think makes this show resonate with so many people

its dark! it pulls at your heart strings! it makes people feel seen! we go in mikey's head at one point and see such splintered (lol) personalities in his head. he has a huge anger problem (much like raph) in there. he retreats into imagination land when stressed. the show kind of toys with "these kids are fucked up!" but never lets those character moments go anywhere. i love how fucked up this family is. its so complex, it feels real. at least real to me. i wish it went that little step further and let the characters talk about these things a little more.

maybe you have a different experience, and thats fine! but i wouldnt brush off people like me who look at 2012 and say "these dynamics make me uncomfortable". to excuse it by saying "my family is like that and we're fine" sometimes i just wanna say... <:/ are you? have you talked about that? and if that's your read on it is that its fine, thats great. but some people notice patterns and those patterns can make them uncomfortable. i hope ive explained the patterns here.

i think thats why the fandom is as big as it is. this show would lead to the most amazing deep introspective fan-works youve ever seen, it lays the pieces out so perfectly for you to draw your own conclusions about why they are this way. you cant really blame people for talking about it as if its got a way higher rating than it does. it feels like it does.

i should say, i dont even know if i blame the show on its own for leaving those pieces laying there, it was on nickelodeon. i sense studio meddling in the tone. i mean, given that the show wanted to end with the big mutant apocalypse storyline, and yet the network wanted to end it with the big 87 crossover..... yeah i think its safe to say nick would rather they keep it light.

which is funny, because i think the most controversial thing i can say is i personally love the finale arc as the mutant apocalypse. it so encapsulates my favorite part of this show. to end this show in the darkest timeline and say "even though these characters are so far removed from who they used to be and even though the entire world is over they still have each other in the end" and i find that so perfect.

so. i understand that this is always a touchy topic. i know people want to brush it off as "people say the 12 brothers are abusive to mikey but mikey is fine", and i think thats a really skewed version of it from both sides. first of all. mikey is not fine, look in that boys head. look how he copes. he's not. but also, mikey is not the only victim. they all are. these turtles are victims of their upbringing, victims of generational war. of men who didnt know how to be good fathers in the first place. and thats good writing! it feels deep! it connects!

for more context: any fucked up way you can think of karai being raised by shredder? its probably the same way here. splinter and shredder were raised the same way.

i guess i think about this a lot, cuz i always see things like "oh, rise fans write crossovers where the rise boys love each other and have to teach the 12 boys how to be nice cuz they dont like 2012!" and i just think to myself:

guys. do you understand why a person might do that? why would someone (likely a teenager) want 2012 mikey to be treated nicely by a kinder more openly affectionate version of his own family? do i need to spell that out for you? why do we connect with media at all, why do we write our own stories about it?

if you genuinely dont. i mean, im glad for you. but sometimes you wanna imagine a world in which your own family is more openly affectionate with you. where they hug and tell you theyre proud and love you and you never have to question it, never have to look elsewhere for that kind of approval. its less that they're idolizing rise, and more that they're looking at the two families and saying "this one is emotionally mature and in touch with their feelings more than that one. how would that play out?"

doctor feelings ass response.

look, im not saying everyone understands 2012, that everyone likes or needs to like it. im just trying to say that i think these fucked up parts of 2012 are all around my favourite parts of the show. its an inspiring story about this fucked up little family that has no one but each other, and they're not great about it. they try, but they don't always get it right. i just wish the show would have talked about that part more. but i think that since it doesnt people get to fill in those blanks themselves, and they do it so beautifully. and i really wish people on the internet would be more kind to one another when they wanted to discuss these darker themes they find in it.

these are the reasons i love this show. i think its so very interesting that splinter dies this fucked up father figure who never really apologized for his behaviour. i like that raph needs to be held to stop punching his brothers. that leo doesnt have a good grip on what it is to be a leader, that he tries bad ways of doing it. i like that no one copes well! i like that their relationships are so complex! this show is messy! its good! i wish it was more messy!

and id love if we could be more honest about these things and how they make us feel instead of just brushing each other off as "likes the show" or "doesnt like the show". the things that make me uncomfortable are why i love this show and i'm pretty sure i'm not alone there.

[mullermilkshake]

A lasting impression - Part one

Part one

Part two

You face some issues only your husband can solve.

Wife!reader x Yakuza!Sukuna

MINORS DNI🔞 - Tags: Yakuza AU, female reader, established relationship, graphic depictions of violence, gore, murder, eye gouging, blood, kidnapping, restraints, blindfold, references to non-con.

"We need you to come with us, Madam Chairman."

Just like that, two men blocked your entrance to the fourth story elevator. Two men you had never seen before.

"Says who?" you said, watching the elevator doors slow to a close behind them.

There was no real reason to be threatened, not with your body guard waiting for you down on the ground floor. You knew immediately that they were Yakuza at least by the distinction of their clan pins, but none belonging to the Ryomen clan.

These pins you did not recognise.

"Says my nine millimetre," the man on the left let the barrel of his pistol barely poke out from the fabric seam of his suit jacket.

Okay, maybe there was a little reason to be alarmed, yet you weren't. There had been times like this and far worse you had endured that allowed your calmed composure.

"Where do you want to take me?"

You were due downstairs right now, and give it five minutes, your guard would make the connection and come to you instead.

Usually it was Uraume who accompanied you on ventures into the heart of the district, but today was different.

"That's none of your business."

Well, this is interesting. Just a coincidence that a new guard arises and now you had a gun pointed at your face.

"Alright then, lead the way," this couldn't have been worse than that time in Nanami's office, before you had even met Sukuna.

All that blood.

The elevator dinged open though all you focused on was that gun cocking and clicking to the left of you. Each man either side to underestimate you.

Because you had Sukuna for a husband.

Leaning back and welcoming the cool reflective surface of the elevator glass, you brought your foot up with little time until the elevator reached the third floor to descend lower.

You were able to slip your stiletto off and get one good grip onto it, waiting for the elevator to ding past the floor and descend to the next.

With one quick countdown, you swung your arm, aiming the tiny point of the shoe into the mans eye, waisting no time to pull and yank to grab at his gun.

"Arghhh!" he clawed at his eye and thrashed around to pull out the stiletto heel along with his eye.

"What the fuck?!"

The barrel of his gun looked directly at the other man, pressing up against his chin. "This hun is mine now. You'll be foolish to try and take this from me."

As you suspected, he had a gun too, tucked just at the side of this ribcage in its own little holster. You snatched it away from him and backed away pressing all of the elevator buttons to get out.

"You underestimate me if you assume I'd go willingly."

"All we're doin' is following orders you stupid bitch. You've just made this worse for yourself."

"That's for me to know, and I guess I'll find that out too," the elevator doors opened, "so please excuse me."

Waiting for the doors to close, the cartridges of the guns dropped out and clattered on the floor. Your other shoe came off and slid halfway across the hallway.

The guns and ammunition ended up in separate trashcans whilst you tried to get through to your husband. you were no longer safe in the district let alone the building.

"What is it?" he answered after three rings from the pay phone on the wall.

“Sukuna.”

His tone shifted to a smoother score instead of pointedly answering. “Why are you calling from a pay phone?”

It was because you never called him directly. "Something's gone wrong, I need-"

You hadn't looked behind you down the long hall and the door just down the way. You only noticed when you turned and saw the largest woman you had ever seen.

It was stupid. Lights out.

Fuck.

When you came too, your eyes were covered with an opaque fabric, light like silk and heavy enough not to budge under your movement. The stringent pain lining your eye socket was more than enough to set you in a dazed state.

"Madam Chairman, you’re awake.”

You said nothing, drawing in long dreary a as silently as possible. There was a shifting like scuffling which dragged what sounded like a chair leg across the floor.

Whoever it was let out what could only be described as a disappointed sigh. “You’ll fetch a hefty sum from that old bastard to get you back... Do you think he'd still pay the same if we returned you damaged?"

There was no way you could recognise that voice just on memories alone, you meet a lot of people in diverse settings. It was deep, harsh on the lips, grating as though this man had smoked every single day of his life.

"Do what you want," despite your instincts fluttering in the pit of your stomach, you kept up your exterior, "it's not like I have a choice, right?"

The man chuckled with amusement. "That's true, you don't. Still, you aren’t what I thought you’d be. There’s not an ounce of fear in that heart, is there?”

"Will you at least explain why I'm actually here?"

“It’s not for me to tell you, that’s down to my boss.”

"So why waste my time and ask stuspid questions?" Sukuna had rubbed off on you far more than you realised.

You didn't dare let the thought cross your mind of what this lecherous man had in store for you, his mind obviously full of filth to see clearly. Most people would have panicked, but, in the end, you knew Sukuna would always come to your rescue.

Just like now when the ear splitting sound of a door being kicked in with enough force to rip the hinges off and clang against the floor.

And then, the man changed his tune. "M-mr Sukuna."

You sat still and upright, wincing every now and then to the sting at your cheek, listening to the punches thrown and various wood creaking and snapping with clear signs of struggle.

Not one word was uttered, pleaded or yelled in whatever sized room you were in, but the volume of sounds led you to believe you were inside a small one, maybe no bigger than a box room. The vibrations were close by yet nothing touched you, nothing whizzed past you in a narrowly avoided throw past your head.

Then it all stopped and your blind fold was pulled from your eyes.

"Hello, love," you said, seeing Sukuna's entire face splashed with red.

It wasn't all from one man, no way.

"Your face. Who did that?" his tone was softer than usual, "perhaps I've already killed him. That’ll be a shame.”

Leaning into his touch as he caressed your cheek, Sukuna untied you using the point of his knife to cut through the restraints.

“A tall woman, taller than Gojo. Biggest person I've ever seen."

"A Woman?"

You nodded and took his hand to steady yourself. "Yeah, I'd never seen her before."

Sukuna looked around the room you hadn't taken a glance of yet, watching him closely rub the smears of blood from his cheek.

"I have an idea who, but for now I'll take you to the car," he picked you up and carried you out of that little room.

Blood, far too much for one person. However, there was just one body in there in a bloodied and crumpled heap in the corner.

And then the question had been answered as soon as he took you out of that little room. There were several men on the ground, all in the same viscous star as the other man, lying crumpled on the ground in separate heaps of mess.

"Someone get her feet covered. Now."

He didn't put you down even once he had walked the entire two levels down to the ground floor to the car. There was Uraume, pulling open the car door and slipping off their own shoes for you.

"It's fine Uraume, I'll be alright-"

"Take her home," Sukuna didn't get in with you, but he took a hold of your hands, "there's something I must do before this is dealt with, I'll meet you as soon as it's finished."

There was no way he was walking or getting a tact, surely? He was head to toe covered in red and it would have dram attention. There was no way he could pass this off as a costume or that he had been attacked.

The police would have a field day. Still with that in mind, you didn’t question it.

You nodded a nonverbal clarification. "Alright. Just... be careful."

In a split decision, he climbed inside the car and clicked the door shut. It was so that no one else saw.

"I'm always careful. There's a line people are foolish enough to cross and it's not even a fine one. There's a debt to be paid and I'm going to collet it personally."

He brushed the tips of his fingers over the swelling part of your cheek and eye. "No one touches you and has hands to touch themselves with afterwards."

It shouldn't have been as romantic as it was. "I knew you would come for me."

"Always."

He pressed his lips over the knuckles of your right hand and climbed back out, speaking indistinct able words to Uraume who climbed in once he left.

There was only one way this was going to end, and worrying over it was only natural. Especially when your adrenaline started to wear off and the weight of everything came down on you like a ton of bricks.

Those who crossed Sukuna never had the chance to even think about doing it a second time.

[3cremepie3]

Airhead pt. 1

Synopsis - Riddle Rosehearts x fem reader. Y/n is an idiot and needs help with studying from Riddle! She wants to pay back his kindness in the only way she know how.

Warnings - innocent riddle, lose of innocence, graphic mentions of head lol, premarital sex, cursing, spit, roughness, slutty y/n, bimbo y/n

A/n - I was supposed to start this series so long ago but I got caught up in request. I found this so fun to write and I will be continuing it!

“Hey riddle,” you exclaimed. You pulled him in for a big hug he deserved it for being so generous. He was helping you study for free! “There’s no need for that.” His words were harsh but his smile said otherwise. Whatever you let him go and plopped down on his bed.

“Wow, it’s so soft I can lay here forever.” You will not now up at once,” he demanded. “In order to get optimal study results students sit at desks. I have a perfectly organized one here.” You sighed getting up to sit at his desk. The chair was cool against your ass cheeks that hung out your dress.

It was uncomfortable and for some reason forced you to sit up. “Now let us begin I have tea time to attend to and I’ll leave you for independent study time then.” Okay,” you accepted. The session didn’t even start yet and you were bored. "Yawning already? Did you not get a good night's rest?"

"No, I stayed up all night waiting on a flash sale." Well, that was idiotic,' He claimed. "When your dorm has no AC you make do with what you can get, look isn't it cute."

"My god," Riddle gasped. "Isn't that lingerie women wear that for their husbands and as far as I know you aren't married." You erupted into a fit of giggles. God, he was over dramatic! “Riddle you're too innocent for your own good," you laughed. "I'm just wearing it to bed what's the harm in that?"

"You're right." He cleared his throat and stepped away to grab a hefty text book. "Hand me your phone there must be no distractions." You were hesitant but handed it over. Riddle grabbed a chair and scooted over towards you. Your body moved closer to his wanting to marinate in his scent. "Wow, you smell so nice Riddle like roses."

"Well thank you I make sure to use rosemary oil and- what are you doing get back to reading at once!" He pointed to the paragraph your eyes finished scanning. "I already finished," you pouted. "Fine then let's get started on this written response."

"The teacher wants you to write this in a formal format so no personal perspective." He continued to yap on and on about something that you couldn't bother to hear as you were distracted by the flamingos running across the yard. "Get him." You cheered leaning out the window to watch the mayhem between students and flamingos concur.

In an instant, you flashed him the short dress that you wore hiked up your back. “You mustn’t lean over like everything is showing,” Riddle yelled. He covered his eyes wanting to keep your privacy. “Ace he went that way,” you pointed. You felt the air on your ass and quickly realized what Riddle had been yelling about.

“Oops my ass was out,” you giggled. “It’s not funny Y/n!” Come on Riddle you act like you’ve never seen anyone’s panties before.” He stared at you blankly. “Wait you genuinely haven’t?” His face became rosy red at your question. “Well, not in real life of course.”

“Christ how is anyone this pure,” you wondered. “My mother kept me very sheltered from a lot of things.” So you’ve never watched porn?” He held his head low not meeting your bright eyes. “ How is that your first thought no I have not.” We’ll have you ever had a girlfriend or a side hoe or a hookup?”

“No I don’t have time for any of that,” he admitted. “I guess remaining top student comes with its downfalls.” You frowned for Riddle. You couldn’t imagine not getting laid. Just then you thought of something. “Well, Riddle since you gave me your time helping me study I’ll give you mine in bed?” You watched him awaiting his answer. “But mother says only married couples do that.”

You slapped your forehead out of frustration. “Mother means married couples stick it in. No one said we have to do all of that.” I suppose there’s no harm since it’ll be a fair exchange and as long as it’s done before tea time.”

“Yup just the perfect pace,” you gleamed. Now why don’t we get on the bed,” you suggested. “Alright.” Oh wow Riddle I’m surprised you’re agreeing to this.” Well, you only live once they say.” He propped himself up on his elbows wanting to face you.

“This process is for relaxation you can lay fully down.” He laid back sinking into his many pillows. “Good boy now take off your clothes.” You heard his breath hitch at the thought but his hands were eager to make them come undone. He stopped at his underwear, however. “Need help or something.” Your hand graced over his bulge and then to the band of his boxers.

“I think that would be best,” he admitted. You couldn’t help but notice his hands shaking. “Aww Riddle don’t be nervous. You sat up to give him some kisses on his burning torso. “It’s just a little dick-sucking,” you reminded. “I know but I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Well, then I’ll take things slower if you need it.” You began to kiss him softly he was a beginner after all. The first few were awkward teeth colliding but cute as you shared drool. The next ones were better since you took control catching his tongue in yours. You broke apart letting him catch his breath.

His hands tangled themselves in your hair pulling you back in. You balanced yourself on the bed before pulling your hips over his. Now you straddled his lap and could feel his heat against you. Riddle pulled up your dress which caused a gasp to come from your lips.

“Are you eager now?” Yes.” You looked up to see a riddles face flushed in a shade of scarlet. “Fine then I’m gonna go back down here. You crawled back to his legs making sure to land in an arch. Riddle thought he would lose his mind seeing the peak of your ass on full display. You pulled down his boxers to clearly see his mental state.

“Aww look at you dripping,” you coddled. "You can touch it i see you staring." Oh okay," he hesitated. You felt a hand collide with your ass cheek. He rubbed the flesh gently afterwards although it was an apology. You were gonna let out a protest but his focused face was too cute to pass up. You let a glob of spit coat his tip. You scanned his reaction as it slid down to his base.

His breath hitched at the warmness. Soon your mouth would follow the direction of the spit swallowing him down until you gagged. You exited with a pop making his toes curl. "So how's your first time getting head feel?" Good now continue," he demanded. His hand pushed you down onto his waiting dick.

You felt it twitch in your mouth as your tongue followed every curve every vein its entire being. "Oh my god," Riddle huffed. "Your cocks so cute look at it shake for me." You let it rest and spasm on your cheek. Your face had become wet with spit and his pre but you didn't mind. "Taste so good baby," you mumbled. Riddle could only bite his thumb down in response to holding his moans.

Your hand left his thigh to assist you in pumping him. Your grip was strong bringing his balls to tingle. Your lips noticed as you licked against the masses. And it intensified as you juggled them both in your mouth. He looked down on you astonished at your sinful actions.

Your dress was soaked but you were only just getting started. "Change of plans I want you to throat fuck me." Riddle looked at you like a lost puppy. "What does that mean." After quickly giving him a rundown he got into position. "So like this." He asked while pushing himself into your pulsing throat. Your hand linked themselves on his hips bringing him to push himself even deeper.

Riddle let out a grunt at the sensation of you squeezing around him. "Fuck it's like you're sucking me in." You chuckled you'd never think you'd get to hear Riddle RoseHearts curse. His hips buckled back and forth drilling themselves into you. But you still felt as though he was going to be soft on you.

"Riddle here's your chance to ruin me, to take all anger and stress out on me, to manhandle me. You're a man right then prove it to me." You spoke while scattering cock kisses. Riddle scoffed he was tired of everyone second-guessing him because he was small. "While since you give me permission I shall do my best job at it."

His smile twisted into a cruel smirk. You could tell in his head he had felt as though he was back in charge of the monarchy. While really you were still the dominant you just loved getting throat fucked. His hands raced to grab your neck forcing you to collide with the end of his shaft. You felt his hair tickle your nose while you gagged heavenly.

Riddle couldn't get enough of the vibrations against his core and forced you to stay until he watched your eyes roll back. You coughed greatly after being freed but stars were in your excited eyes as the same fate occurred. You watched Riddle lose himself in the contractions of your throat.

He moaned loudly as he pumped you like a fleshlight. They became whimper and he let out mewls that sounded as though he was crying. It was music to your ears especially when his voice that was sure to go raw yelled "Y/n" a dozen times. If he kept this up your throat would organize his shape forever.

And you wouldn't mind as long as you heard his whimper audio. "So good I think I'm gonna." He tried to give you a warning but it was too late. His cum poured down your throat leaving you to swallow the best you could in the short amount of time you had. The excess liquid spilled down your face and his now empty balls. He finally let go of his grip which allowed you to move away from the monster that was his cock.

You had 100% slayed that beast as he softened in front of your eyes. You pulled the bottom of your dress down ignoring the wet patch your essence had left on his bed. "Now we both held our fair end of the exchange." You spoke your voice raspy while removing your dress and stealing one of Riddle's shirts.

"Yes if you ever need help again be sure to let me know," he exclaimed. "Mhmm I'd love to push things even further. What your mother knows doesn't hurt her Riddle. It's not sin if its secret!”

[biolumien]

and with it, a gentle place...

pt 3 to the samurai!hoshina fic. pt 1 and pt 2 are here.

notes: happy hoshina episode.

samurai!soshiro hoshina x fem!reader i dont think any warnings apply but if there are, please let me know ;-; word count: 1359

as it turned out, being the wife of a samurai was far more boring than you could have ever imagined. your life was largely consumed by general diplomacy and far more paperwork. your husband was gone frequently, often complaining about some kind of diplomacy with the narumi clan. 

it left you with hardly anything to do, in any case. 

or well, you could stare languidly out into the distance. that was something you did quite frequently, staring stormily out into beautiful gardens in tedium. you supposed you could technically throw a fit, throw something at a wall, or start acting irrationally–but that might besmirch your newlywed husband’s reputation for most diplomacy. 

so you settled for your naginata.

you spent most of your waking hours in the gardens of your new home, practicing diligently till your movements became a slow and elaborate kind of dance. as new lady of the house, it was your duty, your responsibility, or so you had been told, to defend the house in case it ever came under attack. and the weakened hoshina clan, with a dent in its beautiful, gilded reputation, may come with no shortage of enemies or people who wanted to take advantage of the rapidly forming power vacuum. 

you doubted any real assassination attempt on the new lord of the house would happen, but you trained anyway. you wondered why, as you slashed downwards in a circle, why you would bother with defending a man who was a total stranger to you. why go to the effort? why exist in this loop of tedium and boredom, with so little reward? for a husband who was so busy in his diplomacy efforts that he couldn’t spend time with you? but then again, why did it bother you that he never had time for you? you’d never wanted to be married to him in the first place!

you lower your naginata, letting the blade touch the floor. 

“so you’re the lady of the house!” 

a voice startles you out of your reverie.

your husband is standing next to a younger man, his eyes widened with excitement. his hair was a startling shade of almost white, dressed in shades of soft green. his obi is a dark purple. 

“you’re getting quite good at that,” soshiro says, stepping down to meet you. his kosode is in a dark purple again, layered with a black kataginu vest over top. he cut an intimidating figure, in any case, and he bows to you with a measured smile. “the naginata, i mean. i’m quite flattered you’re putting your all into this.” 

“of course,” you respond, your voice as sweet as honey, edged with venom. “it’s my duty, of course, as the lady of the house now. who’s this you’ve brought with you?”

“oh, him? pardon my manners.” soshiro laughs, but you can’t quite figure out what’s funny. “this is one of my retainers. ichikawa reno. reno, this is my wife. i told you about her already on the way here.”

“nice–nice to meet you,” reno says, bowing to you. “i wanted to meet you!”

you lower your naginata to your side. 

“why?” you ask. “i mean, pardon me.” you laugh, raising your sleeve to your mouth to hide the smile. “i just thought that most samurai of your stations would not bother.”

“well–even so, i’m not most samurai,” reno says, and you laugh at the absurdity of that statement, fully. his face flushes a little bit, and you reach out to pat him on the head.

“don’t worry about that, ichikawa. i am quite flattered you deigned to introduce yourself to me.” you smile, and reno nods. 

“of course.” 

“now, now, reno,” soshiro says, patting reno on the shoulder. “why don’t you give me and my wife some privacy for a second?”

“okay,” reno says, bowing to soshiro, and then to you before rushing off.

you watch reno leave, a soft huff leaving your lips.

“nice kid,” you say. 

“our families have been allied for generations,” soshiro says, watching reno run off as well. “he has the  weight of expectation upon his back, too, as the youngest.”

“mm. i see. so what is it you wanted to talk to me about, then?” you ask. “you’re so rarely in the house these days, i’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”

“please, dear,” soshiro says. “i’m not trying to avoid you.”

you can’t even tell if he’s being honest.

“discussions with the narumi clan grow sour, mostly because i have no stomach for their son, who, coincidentally, also has no stomach for me! can you believe it?” soshiro laughs, raising a hand to push back his hair. 

“... i suppose you don’t want to hear my actual answer.”

“not quite,” soshiro amends. “you have a fairly nasty look on your face.”

“do i?” you smile. 

“hm.” soshiro watches you, staring down at your naginata. “do you want to spar?”

“spar?” you raise an eyebrow. “what would a samurai such as yourself want to do with sparring with his wife?”

“can’t this samurai be curious about what kinds of things his wife gets up to?” soshiro asks innocently, but draws his katana from his belt, unsheathing it and holding it in front of him in a prepared stance. in response, you hold your naginata at your side, ready as well.

“i stare out into your estate’s gardens,” you say. “and sometimes i do embroidery. and other times, i train alone.” and other times, i wish i had taken that dagger and killed you after all–better to have been known for that than to fade away like this. you choose not to say that. 

“i see.” soshiro’s gaze flits for a moment.

“why do you ask?” you say.

“just curious. like i said,” soshiro says. he takes a breath. “but whenever you’re ready.”

as soon as the words leave his mouth, you spin your naginata forward, sweeping the blade downwards. he catches it just barely with his katana, parrying the blow. you realize in a small thrill that you have a farther reach than him–that he has to actively fight to close the distance in front of you. he raises his katana, bearing down hard against the handle of your naginata as you flip it upwards.

“not bad,” he says.

you furrow your brow, pushing him off before you whirl your spear again, forcing his hand to the side.

“it’s been monotonous training,” you respond, whirling your spear for another hit. he deflects it, moving in to strike, but you push him back. 

“isn’t it better, then, that i spar with you? as a skilled opponent?” soshiro manages to close the distance yet again, his face and his blade dangerously close to yours.

“you’re a skilled samurai,” you retort, pushing him away again, but just barely. “i think that’s hardly fair, going up against me.”

“come of it,” soshiro responds, feinting for a second–you move to block, but he swings upwards instead, and you startle backward. “there are assassins aplenty that might try to kill you, and doubtlessly far more skilled than even me. i just want you–”

“you know, i’m getting awfully tired–”

as you step forward, spinning the naginata downwards–you watch as soshiro prepares to parry whatever side blow might be coming next–and then you throw the naginata ever so gently, closing the distance to grasp his wakizashi where it remains at his side. soshiro exhales. 

“--of what everyone says they want for me.” you pull his wakizashi from his belt, unsheathing it. 

it’s silent for a moment, save for your heaving breaths and the sound of birdsong. 

would he let you kill him?

you drop the blade soon after thinking the thought, leaning down to pick up your naginata.

“i think we’ve done enough,” you say. “i will return to my quarters.”

you wonder why your face feels so hot as you turn away. you wonder why you wish he would have lowered his blade and kissed you. you raise a hand to your lips, tracing your bottom lip with a finger. 

you hate the way your heart wants to move for him. 

you do. you do hate it. right?

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#60: The Cure (1.06)

I love a Richonne + cars moment, a Richonne + candles moment, and, most of all, I love a Richonne + hands moment. Rick and Michonne's hands have their own greatest hits throughout Richonne’s love story so it’s only fitting they get one more moment to shine. And Rick and Michonne's final hand moment is beautiful beyond words. It truly paints the picture of how Richonne's love is the cure 🥹...

 After Richonne eliminates the CRM’s higher-ups - giving the upper echelon a taste of their own medicine by doing to them what they were about to do to countless communities - we get some audible insight into the aftermath.

And apparently, sometimes a lil destruction can bring peace and harmony cuz they sure seemed to solve everything wrong with the CRM and Civic Republic after going scorched earth at the summit.

A broadcast explains that after the explosion, Beale and the CRM higher-ups were exposed for all their nefarious operations and activities. That led to the CRC unanimously voting for an emergency oversight of the CRM’s remaining forces and they began implementing immediate reform to the Civic Republic. 

One of the most pertinent developments is that the CRC unanimously voted to change the rule that no one can leave. They now allow those in the Civic Republic to have free movement which means not only can Rick and Michonne finally go home, but the Civic Republic is even providing a helicopter to transport them there. 🙌🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

There's something emotional to me about hearing citizens are finally free to move at will. Cuz that’s all Rick wanted - the freedom and choice to go home to his family. And for years, because of the CRM’s secrecy and paranoia, they kept him from that. But now, after traversing the darkest valleys and still standing, Rick finally gets to go home, and not through escape but freely. 🥹

As the broadcast shares this development we see Rick and Michonne's helicopter in the sky and inside we get my favorite Richonne hands moment. 🤩

The shot focuses first on Michonne’s hand as she holds the pivotal phone that led her to realize Rick survived the bridge explosion. That phone is special. And I love how, in a way, it incorporates all four remaining Grimes because there’s an image of Michonne and Judith and then Rick and RJ’s name on it.

And of course, there’s also the Japanese writing “believe a little longer” which is always a heartfelt sentiment. It's fitting to see the phrase at this moment, as all of Richonne's belief is about to pay off now that they’re closer than ever to being with their kids.

Also, we can see Michonne is wearing her M bracelet and wedding ring in this sweet shot. I always love seeing the jewelry as a reminder that once Michonne found Rick, her husband adorned her with everything he could. 🥹 Husband of the Year every year, factually. 👏🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

Thank goodness Rick sought out Benjiro to draw his girls during his years away. Rick had to hide so much of himself while trapped with the CRM, but he still was compelled to find a way to connect to his wife and daughter.

And Rick's need to still somehow see Michonne and Judith, even if just through illustrations, allowed him to see them again for real since that phone Michonne found was key to letting her know he was alive out there - and most of all, alive out there missing her as much as she missed him. 🥲

As Michonne holds the phone, I imagine she's likely thinking about just how far they’ve come on this journey. First, it was Rick who had that phone as a means of hope during his darkest and loneliest chapter. And then the phone magnetically found its way to Michonne to give her hope too during a very dark and lonely time.

I remember when Michonne first found this phone on that boat it was such an overwhelming moment for her. She was instantly emotional in that TWD 10.13 ep after finding Rick’s boots and a phone that confirmed that Rick survived the bridge and was still loving and thinking about her and their daughter.

And now, after all the hell they’d been through, she doesn’t just have the phone to hold onto of Rick, she has the great man himself right by her side. 🙌🏽

In holding the phone it’s also clear that Michonne is thinking about the kids they're soon about to see. And you know who's also thinking about their kids right now? Rick. 🥹

As the shot pans from Michonne’s phone-holding hand, we see her other hand with the wedding ring which will always elate me to see. And then we see Rick’s hand shaking. 😭

Ok, my eyes tear up every time I see the way Rick's hand shakes on his knee, clearly illustrating his anxiousness about finally going home and reuniting with Judith and meeting RJ for the first time.

gif cred: @taiturner

It has to all feel quite overwhelming. He already loves his son and daughter so much, and I know he wants to live up to being the father they need and the father they clearly look up to as The Brave Man. And it makes sense he’d be feeling a lot of both excited anticipation and anxiety over such a big moment.

Plus, I think about how hard Rick fought to go home all these years and the physical and mental toll it took on his mind and body as every escape attempt resulted in getting caught. Part of why he only has one hand to tremble right now is because his time away from family pushed him to a breaking point where he was willing to chop off his own hand for just the mere chance of getting back to his wife and daughter.

And now, here he is, his wife by his side, and so close to home. That has to understandably make him overcome with emotion because finally, nothing is stopping him from going home. He’s really gonna make it all the way this time. 🥹

So likely with a million thoughts racing through his head right now, his nerves cause his hand to tremble. But then I adore to the moon and back that Rick no longer has to deal with his anxiety alone because his soulmate is with him and is always always so good at comforting him and bringing him peace.

So without a word being said, Michonne immediately holds Rick’s shaking hand, and sure enough, he calms and stops shaking as he holds her hand. Beautiful. 😭😭😭

gif cred: @nerd4music

This calming handhold moment between Rick and Michonne means so much to me. Especially with how a handhold ushered in Richonne’s canon era in TWD 6.10 and was Richonne’s final physical contact in TWD 9.03.

And now Rick and Michonne can still offer so much love and comfort when they take each other's hands all these years later as well. The greatest husband and wife on television, for real. 🥹

The whole movement of it was perfect. Like again, these actors are so talented that even a quick wordless moment of just their hands has such depth and meaning to it. And the music really adds to the emotion of it all too. 

I love that Michonne first gently places her hand on his, clearly sensing everything he’s feeling. And I adore that it’s with her wedding ring-clad hand. Rick's wife. 😭🙌🏽 Like truly the visual of Michonne taking Rick's hand while wearing the ring he gave her is just what a Richonners' dreams are made of. Both this handhold and the ring being in the shot communicate the many ways Richonne are forever committed to have and to hold one another.

And then I adore that Rick is receptive and immediately takes her hand and allows that to steady him. And his signature calming thumb makes another appearance. 😋 It's just all so good. No matter how anxious he gets, connecting with Michonne can always reach him, calm him, and center him.

gif cred: @lousolversons

Rick is definitely a character that often deals with anxiety, and I love that Michonne is so equipped to recognize it and offer comfort in the exact way he needs.

Michonne Grimes is Rick Grimes' cure, truly. After wrestling so long with what really is the poison or the cure, I love that the miniseries makes it so clear that Richonne's love is the cure that can always heal them.

And just the way he takes her hand, it feels like they’re both offering comfort to each other. Both solidifying to each other that they’re in this together always. So Rick doesn’t have to worry. Because Michonne will be right here with him as they reunite and restore their family. 

Also, Rick doesn’t have to fret about being the perfect dad because his eldest son Carl already gave him the blueprint on how to proceed as a father to Judith & RJ - it’s just to love. And Rick's good kind heart knows exactly how to do that. 🥹

gif cred: @michonnegrimes

And y'all, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t get sentimental about their overall journey for a sec. So I had to take a moment to really reflect and celebrate the way Richonne's hands helped tell this love story all these years. Because it's really something, imo. 😊

It all started in the masterpiece OG Richonne episode 'Clear' (TWD 3.12), when the shot focuses on Michonne handing Rick a lone bullet, simultaneously showing him she's on his side and calming his antsy energy. There were definitely sparks flying between those two in that scene. Even Carl was looking like 'what's this about?' 🤔

And then, because Rick took it as an unbreakable law when Michonne said 'don't you ever touch me again' in TWD 3.07, Rick and Michonne didn't really touch again until season 5. But when they do, it's super meaningful and makes it clear they've become trusted partners who love each other.

Michonne takes Rick's hand just before they enter ASZ, again offering him a refreshing dose of comfort during a very anxious time for him. And she also is comforted in this car, knowing the man she feels most safe with is going to take this leap of faith with her and for her.

Then at the end of season 5, Michonne touches Rick's hand again, this time to let Rick know she trusts him to make the right decision after he offers to give her his gun. They'd been feeling a bit distant since arriving at ASZ and this top-tier season 5 finale scene brought them back together beautifully.

Rick is eager to give up all his secrets in the hopes of being back aligned with her, and Michonne is eager for Rick to see that she's with him no matter what. And the shot of their hands illustrates that perfectly.

That season 5 finale moment also made it clear that Richonne's canon era was just around the corner, especially because they were slowly but surely touching each other more.

And sure enough 😋...

Season 6 arrives and we get some of Richonne's greatest hand moments of all. 🤩 That low-five in the morning leading up to their first kiss - Perfection. ❤️‍🔥 Rick playfully whipping out those mints as Michonne takes them with a smile, and their mint exchange filmed in a way that parallels their bullet exchange in Clear - Perfection. ❤️‍🔥

And then of course the Richonne + hands moment is when Rick and Michonne first hold hands on that couch. It's the sweet, sensual, and oh-so-significant handhold that ignited Richonne becoming an official couple - Perfection. ❤️‍🔥

Once Rick and Michonne hold hands in TWD 6.10 and let all that love that has been stirring inside pour out, they make it very clear they never want to let go of each other. With a sweet, simple, and super special handhold in an RV even being the only confirmation they need to know that what they have is a forever thing.

It's like Andy said of Richonne: "You kind of hold hands, walk to the edge of the cliff and jump — and continue holding hands."

And they really did continue holding hands. 🥹

The wonderful Richonne + hand moments just ramped up even more as the seasons progressed. And all of it, every single time, was perfection. ❤️‍🔥

Apart from a final hallucination and heartbreaking bridge separation, Richonne's last real moment together on their TWD journey even concludes with a shot focused on their hands. And you already know I adore this final TWD handhold, which again paints the beautiful picture of how Richonne can always reach each other, hold each other, and stand united.

And then y'all, The Ones Who Live came along and spoiled us rotten with Richonne gold, including more wonderful and ultra-heartfelt Richonne + hands moments.

Michonne placing Rick's hand over her heart to calm him during his panic attack - Perfection 🥹. Michonne softly touching Rick's handless arm after he quite literally gave his hand for her - Perfection 🥹.

Richonne + hands just always remained a thing of beauty along their unforgettable journey.

Always. 🥰

So, all that to say - Richonne's hands told a very compelling story from TWD Season 3 to TOWL. 👌🏽

These moments (and there are even more Richonne hands moments that I could have included if there wasn't a 30 gif max) are a big reason why I adore that Richonne is given this shot focused on their hands in the final episode of The Ones Who Live. How far they’ve come, and they’ve only grown closer and closer and more and more in love. A love story for the ages. 🥹

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Now, did I basically just dedicate a whole post to Richonne’s hands? Yes I did. 😇 I had to. Their hands moments were just that good and deserved appreciation.

I will forever cherish the opportunity to watch these two characters fall in love in a fallen world and, even with weary hands from this wild world, pick up each other's broken pieces to make each other whole. And each meaningful hand moment portrayed Richonne's ability to do so.

But ok, now, it’s time to talk about the utterly heartwarming and heart-melting moments of Rick and Michonne finally reuniting with their babies. And we're breaking it down in 2 parts because you know I gotta finish as extra as I started. 😌👌🏽

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 9

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, brief mention of sex, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: a little something something going into the weekend 🩵

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

When you reach Javy’s apartment, he pulls into a spot right next to the sports car that you recognize from your first date. When he gets out, he doesn’t head for the door to the lobby, instead leading the way around the sports car to another vehicle. You frown in confusion as you look at what seems to be a game of “one of these things is not like the others.” The Prius parked on the other side of Javy’s sportscar looks old, almost as old as your car, but it’s definitely been a while since it’s seen any action. It’s clean as a whistle despite its age and looks ridiculous surrounded by Javy’s two other cars and the other various luxury vehicles that populate this garage. “Here she is,” Javy announces proudly as he runs an affectionate hand over the roof of the car.

“You’re kidding…” you can’t help yourself. “This is your car?” You ask, arching a skeptical eyebrow as you approach the car.

He chuckles, “She is indeed, though it’s been quite a while since she’s seen any real use. I drive her around every now and then to make sure she still runs, but as you can see, she’s had her day.”

“So why do you keep it?” You ask and he smiles ruefully.

“I could tell you it’s a reminder to never forget where I came from, but honestly? I can’t bear to give her up. My uncle got it for me when I moved to Arizona for college. My mom kept insisting that I wouldn’t need a car and that it was an unnecessary expense, but he wouldn’t listen. He told me he’d been saving money for years for it, and it was the last thing he ever gave me. He wanted to make sure that I’d have everything I needed to chase my dreams and never look back.” You surprise yourself when you reach out for his hand and slide your fingers into his. He gives you a soft smile in response. “I’ll grab you the keys and she’s all yours.” Your breath catches in your chest as you remember why you’re here in the first place and you shake your head.

“Javy I can’t, it clearly means a lot to you, I couldn’t drive her.” He chuckles and squeezes your hand gently.

“Yes, you can. I hate seeing her just sit here and not get used. I’d be honored to have you take care of her.” You purse your lips in a thin line as you consider Javy’s offer. “I’m not going to force you to take her, but then we’re getting back and the car and going to a dealership. As much as I’d love to drive you everywhere, unfortunately, my schedule doesn’t really allow for that.” Your cheeks heat at his words.

“Javy…” you whisper and he smiles.

“I mean it, Meep, I want you to have her. I know you’ll take good care of her. And I’ll add you to the insurance so you don’t have to worry about that.” You feel the emotions of the day catching up with you and tears well up in your eyes.

“Thank you, Javy. I mean it, thank you so much.” You hate the way your voice sounds like you’re blubbering but Javy just chuckles and pulls you into a hug.

“You’re welcome, Beautiful. That’s what friends are for.”

***

You’ve severely underestimated what it means to be friends with Javy Machado. Your phone buzzes for the seemingly thousandth time and Nat gives you a knowing look from where she’s sitting on a couch in the fitting room. “Starting to regret getting back with him yet?” She asks as you come over and open the message and you roll your eyes at the picture of Javy force-feeding Bradley a slice of pizza along with a message asking how things are going with you. Things are going well. You and Nat are finally going for the shopping date that Javy promised you. Zam wanted to come but she’s been particularly swamped this week. You’re extremely grateful to Nat for coming along and so far she’s been nothing but supportive as you pick out some new dresses. She doesn’t push you out of your comfort zone and has even managed to pull a few suggestions that suit your taste perfectly. The dresses are modest yet classy and you smile at your reflection in the full-length mirror as you consider how to reply to Javy’s text after sharing the image with Nat.

“You should send him a picture of that dress,” Nat suggests and you look from the mirror to her and she gives you a knowing smile. The dress is a simple yet elegant style that falls to your mid-calf made of gorgeous emerald velvet. The modest neckline and love sleeves make you feel comfortable and even pretty. You love the way the dressing room light reflects off the fabric as you swish the skirt idly. You glance back at the mirror and when you turn back to Nat she’s holding up your phone.

“Nat!” You exclaim as you realize she’s taking a photo. She grabs your wrist and drags you over to sit next to her on the couch as she sends the photos to Javy. You’d had a mind to complain about the lack of warning but when you see the photos, you’re grateful to Nat. The candid shots mean that you’re relaxed and natural-looking. The two of you watch as little hearts appear on each of the photos before Javy replies. You’re expecting all kinds of possible responses, but the message you get back in response is simple.

“Buy it.” Nat cackles as she hugs you and you feel your cheeks flush. Then your phone rings and Nat gives you a knowing look before she stands up and collects the dresses you’d placed in the no pile and walks out of the fitting room to give you some privacy as you answer the call. “Hey Beautiful,” Javy greets and you feel your cheeks heat.

“Hi Javy,” You whisper as you fiddle with the slippery fabric.

“I absolutely love that dress, Meep. It suits you perfectly.” You murmur your thanks, embarrassed at his straightforward compliments. “Do you like it?” He asks after a beat and you start, surprised that he’d ask that. Your eyes go again to the mirror and you feel the corners of your lips raise slowly.

“I do, I really do.” You admit and you can practically hear Javy’s smile.

“Perfect. Then make sure you get it. I think I have the perfect occasion for you to wear it to this weekend.”

“What kind of occasion?” You ask, eyebrows pinching together in worry. You and Javy haven’t gone on any dates since reinstating your fake relationship. You’d be attending the Dogfighters’ game tonight but other than that, Javy hasn’t mentioned any other plans.

“It’s a surprise, but I promise you’ll like it so don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just show up looking beautiful as always.” You pout slightly at Javy’s insistence on giving you as little information as possible but the nagging voice in the back of your mind begs to you trust him. Javy wouldn’t pick something that would make you uncomfortable. He’s literally paying for today’s shopping trip to ensure that you don’t.

“Okay,” you acquiesce and you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Great, I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you tonight, okay?” You confirm that you’ll be at the game tonight before you hang up. Nat comes back in not long after that with a few more options and the two of you get to work.

***

“It’s really that simple?” You ask as you adjust the sleeves of the jersey that are currently falling past your hands. Josie nods as she looks you over.

“I mean you could do more, but it’s honestly more comfy to go simple.” That’s rich coming from her you think as you gape at the pointed heels of the knee-high boots she's wearing over her jeans. She’s dressed in a replica of Reuben’s jersey, opting for the men’s fit rather than the women’s style that would definitely hug her curves a lot better. In comparison, you’ve opted for your simple white sneakers along with jeans and Javy’s jersey. You’ve also opted for the men’s fit after Josie pointed out that though they won’t mention it, the boys much prefer their girls in the baggier men’s jerseys as opposed to the more fitted female styles. “It looks like you’re wearing their jerseys.” Josie had explained as you tried on the jersey for the first time. “And their dirty little minds love that.” You can’t help the way your cheeks heat as you examine your simple appearance in the mirror. Hopefully, Josie’s right, and Javy will appreciate it. “Don’t worry about the long sleeves,” she adds as she puts the finishing touches on her makeup. “The rink can sometimes feel a bit chilly and you’ll appreciate them.” You tug the ends of your sleeves over your hands experimentally and find that Josie’s probably going to be right.

When you reach the arena, things are already in full swing. You help Josie wrangle the kids and you make your way to the same set of seats you’d sat at last time. Traffic getting to the arena was slow-moving and warmups have already begun. As you help Josie get things situated the kids run up to the glass, eager to see their dad and you follow, scooping Skylar up into your arms so she can see the rink while Jamie slaps the glass to try and attract his father’s attention. You notice Mickey waving across the rink at the kids before he gets Reuben’s attention. Reuben skates over and waves to the kids who eagerly wave back. He carefully tosses a puck over the glass and Jamie catches it, cheering for his dad as you smile softly. You let Skylar down so she can bicker with Jamie over the puck and watch the warmups themselves, trying to remember what Nat taught you.

You’re so absorbed in your own thoughts that a bump on the glass makes you jump. You blink in surprise as you see Javy grinning at you from the other side of the glass. Your cheeks heat as he lays a gloved palm against the glass and you tentatively put your up to it. Javy’s grin widens as he thumps the glass three times and you follow his lead before he skates away, blowing you a kiss, and your heart stutters before you remember that you’re in public. He’s supposed to be your boyfriend, of course, he’s being romantic.

You return to your seats and do your best to focus on the game. Nat’s lessons pay off and you’re able to follow the game better than last time. The boys are playing hard but the other team is keeping up. By the third period, you’re flinching less at the hits and grabbing Josie as the two of you watch the tied game with bated breath. Unfortunately, the other team finally pulls ahead with five minutes to go and you and Josie collapse back against your seat with exasperated groans. Next to you, Skylar is asleep on her brother who’s struggling to stay awake, but even the infectious energy of the crowd is enough to keep the exhausted kids from feeling the effects of the busy week. Your teeth have worried your bottom lip into a mess over the last two and a half periods and you’re hoping the Dogfighters can take it to overtime even if you can feel exhaustion pulling at your bones.

The timer drops lower and lower and while the Dogfighters are giving it their all, the other team isn't giving up any ground. Bob is working double time to stop shots and keep the score difference from widening but that’s left the two teams at a stalemate, struggling against the other as the clock runs out. Finally, the ref blows the whistle and you and Josie let out a collective groan. The win was hard fought, but you can’t help but wish the Dogfighters had been able to take it back. You help Josie carry the things you’d brought, leading a drowsy Jamie by the hand while Josie hoists a sleeping Skylar into her arms. You make your way to the private part of the arena, reserved for players and staff to wait for Reuben. A yawn escapes your mouth and Josie gives you a tired smile of her own. The two of you give up on standing after a few moments where you’re sure Jamie almost falls asleep standing up and all pile onto a bench in the hallway, leaning against each other and fighting sleep. You must doze off regardless because you’re roused by the sound of Reuben’s voice as he coaxes Josie awake next to you, a fond smile on his face. He’s wearing his arrival suit and he comes around to crouch in front of a sleeping Jamie and you help him wrap Jamie’s small arms around his neck and Reuben lifts his son into his arms. You stretch, your arm having fallen asleep with Jamie sleeping on it. Josie stands with a groan, still carrying Skylar, and follows Reuben down the hallway toward the parking lot after exchanging sleepy goodbyes with you. You readjust yourself with a yawn, letting your shoulders sink with exhaustion, fighting the urge to full-on lay down on the bench. Javy’s offered to drive you home in exchange for you coming to the game since it would be late and the Fitches would have to get the kids home. If Reuben’s done, Javy shouldn’t be far behind.

***

You stir, your cheek bumping into something solid and you wrinkle your nose, squirming as you try and get comfortable again. You can’t have shut your eyes for longer than a moment. You blink, trying to reorient yourself and you’re staring sideways at a pair of knees. You frown, brows furrowing as you roll over onto your back and find yourself staring at the ceiling. Well, the ceiling and Javy’s face as he peers down at you. “Hey Meep,” you watch a smile creep across his face as yours twists into a confused frown, “sleep well?” You sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you frown at Javy who’s looking down at you endearingly, mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Wasn’t asleep, just resting my eyes,” you murmur sleepily and you’re too tired to glare when he chuckles. With great effort you manage to sit up, groaning as your heavy head protests. When you look up again, Javy’s back is facing you and your brows twist in confusion until his head turns to you and he jerks his chin awkwardly.

“Get on,” your brain is suddenly more awake. Your frown deepens and you shake your head as you slowly wrap your mind around what Javy’s proposing, your mind going back to Reuben and Jamie. “Meep get on, you’re exhausted so let’s not fight tonight and get you home. Your frown deepens even more at the idea that Javy’s right and so you wrap your arms around his neck, a sleepy pout on your face and you’re just awake enough to remind yourself not to bury your face in his neck to hide from the harsh hallway lights as you try to hold onto the threads of sleep and relax against Javy’s back as he carries you.

***

Javy can’t help the way his mouth quirks into a smile as the low rumble of snoring tickles his ear. Your arms around his neck are starting to go concerning slack, but he’s almost at the car. He tightens his grip on your thighs and freezes as your face nuzzles into his neck and he doesn’t miss the way his heart lurches in his chest. He knows you’re asleep. You’re doing all this involuntarily. You don’t mean to. And yet his heart is officially pounding out of his chest. He leans forward so you don’t slip with your grip loosening as he reaches the Range Rover. He thanks the keyless entry as the car chirps and unlocks without having to dig into his pocket for his keys. He comes around your side of the car and briefly considers laying you out in the back so that you can sleep more comfortably. He decides against it, worried that you’ll wake disoriented and scared somewhere he can’t instantly assure you that you’re safe. Well, that, and he doesn’t want to look like he’s kidnapping you. He fumbles to open your door before he does his best to ease you carefully into the passenger seat. He frowns as he carefully buckles your seatbelt. You’ll wake with a sore neck if you lean against the door while you’re sleeping so he finds a middle ground, carefully easily the seat back slightly so your body can curl slightly into the seat rather than need to lean against the door.

When he’s satisfied, he goes back around to the other side of the car, sliding into the driver’s seat and turning on the car before he looks back at you and slides his suit jacket off, draping it over your dozing form. At least this way he doesn’t have to focus on how good you look in his jersey. It’s not something new, per se, having a girl wear his jersey. He’s hooked up with plenty of girls with the 68 emblazoned on their backs, doing his best to ignore the brand-new smell of the fabric that sometimes even still has the tags on it. If he makes an effort to accidentally get a stain or two on those, rendering them unreturnable, it’s just an unfortunate byproduct of hooking up. He’s only had a girl or two blatantly complain about it, having the balls to admit they were planning on returning or selling the piece of clothing. One girl a few years ago had actually applauded him for “increasing the sale value” of the jersey and he’s been skeptical of girls in his jersey ever since. Being a hockey player already feels like a commodity where girls are considered, and the idea of them selling his semen, and worse, paying to buy it, gives him the ick.

There’s something different to be said, however, of you in his jersey. Sure he’s heard enough from Jake about how much he loves seeing Bugs wear his name and number, and he’s not blind to the way Bradley’s eyes can’t seem to tear away from Zam on the odd occasion that she dons his jersey. Josie shows up to every game repping her husband in some way or another, but he’d never considered what it would be like to have that himself. Then, tonight, seeing you and Josie watching you and Josie gripping each other excitedly in the stands, he’d found himself thinking about how good you look in the Dogfighters’ colors. He hadn’t even considered that the jersey you were wearing was his until he happened to look over during warmups while you were standing, your back to the rink as you helped Josie finagle something in a bag and he’d caught sight of his name staring back at him where it’s emblazoned across your back. He almost dropped his stick, accidentally shaking into Bradley who’d glared at him until he followed Javy’s gaze and smirked at him instead, skating away without another word.

He’s not sure when he decided he liked the idea of you being his but now he’s sitting here in his car with you asleep next to him when a month ago you’d never have considered letting your guard around him enough to relax let alone fall asleep. His heart is still hammering in his chest and his cheeks warm at the memory of your nose brushing his neck. Every part of his head is screaming in panic, the way it had that day after meeting your class for the first time. Every instinct that’s been burned into him over the year screams at him to run for the hills and burn every bridge on the way out, but he grips the steering wheel tight, pushing the voices away as his breathing comes out ragged.

He jerks the car to a harder stop than he’s like at a red light and takes a shaky breath as he looks over at you. The moonlight reflects the calm stillness of your face, brows smooth and at peace as you doze and he feels his grip loosen. You’re so brave, he thinks. He’s done nothing but push you out of your comfort zone and yet you’ve squared your shoulders and taken it in stride. Sure sometimes you’ve forged ahead with shaking hands and teary eyes, but you haven’t faltered once. You’re the bravest person he knows. He once thought that being brave meant being fearless but as he chances another look at you as he pulls into your parking lot he thinks maybe that being brave is being afraid and doing your best anyway.

He watches as you shift your smooth brow furrows in sleepy confusion and your nose scrunches in a way that goes straight to his heart as your eyes blink open, taking in your surroundings. You shift to sit up, peering out the window and Javy tries and fails to keep his eyes from shifting to the back of your jersey. “I fell asleep.” Your voice is rough with sleep as you rub at your eyes but he catches the irritation in your tone.

“And now you’re home, so you can get upstairs and back to sleep,” he points out and you turn, regarding him like you’ve forgotten that he’s in the car too. You nod, frowning as you try to make sense of his words. “Come on, Meep, let’s get you to bed.” You nod again, turning to let yourself out of the car. When he gets to the other side of the car you’re fumbling with your purse to find your keys. When he offers you his hand you wave him off, shuffling sleepily towards the stairs up to your apartment and he trails along behind you, making sure you don’t just collapse somewhere halfway up and spend the night there. When you reach your door, he watches as you fumble with your keys for a solid thirty seconds before he takes the keys from your hand. You don’t argue but he can feel your glare on his temple as he unlocks the door. Your hand grips the knob, taking your keys from him with the other.

“Goodnight, Javy.” He smiles at the sleepy slur in your voice as he steps back and you give him a nod.

“Goodnight, Meep, sleep tight.” You wave half-heartedly as he chuckles softly and you duck past him into the apartment, surprisingly quick as you swing the door shut behind you, and he waits for the turns of the lock and deadbolt before he turns and heads back to his car, trying not to think about how badly he wants you to come back and invite him in.

A/N: Where do you think Javy and Roadie are going this weekend?

[genericpuff]

ok listen right

please don't take the implication of what i'm about to say the completely wrong way, there's a point i have to make here

there's this gross thing that happens in LO that's been definitely talked about numerous times (by many people) where fashion is used to label a character's like, "alignment" between "good" "bad" "pure" "tainted" etc. this is something that comes up a lot when discussing Minthe and Persephone because there are a LOAD of double standards in how Minthe was treated and viewed for dressing like a "slut" but then Persephone wears the exact same fit and suddenly she's a queen-

(image courtesy of @anoldplace on Instagram, I'll be showing a couple of their posts in this because they show off a lot of the great - and frankly disturbing - parallels in LO, whether intended by Rachel or not)

-but can we talk about how the "bad ending" version of Persephone where she ends up with Apollo slaps WAY FUCKING HARDER than anything we've seen her dressed in since she got with Hades ??

fucking hello?? where's THAT fit ??

you're telling me this girl is queen of the underworld and the best she can do in the fashion department is looking like a color-swapped version of Hera ???

and I WANNA MAKE THIS PERFECTLY CLEAR, this isn't me trying to say "Persephone would have been way cooler if she got with Apollo", that is FAR from the point, more so just pointing out the pattern of Rachel aligning "bad" with "dresses with more flavor than an extremely out-of-touch conservative boomer". Even when she tries to draw Persephone in more "out there" clothing it just comes across as ... tacky? And only at her own detriment?

Like, how the fuck is this supposed to be Persephone being drawn through a literal male gaze (Apollo):

And THIS is supposed to be Persephone being drawn from a female gaze (her own because she dressed herself):

Like literally how? How does this happen? Especially when the latter is STILL being framed from a male perspective (the green guy behind her, "Jeffrey") but we're supposed to believe it's some "boss babe" moment for Persephone to just be walking down the street while getting oggled inappropriately by a male onlooker? How could these scenes be any more different and yet more alike? She's still being objectified for the characters around her and the audience, but we're supposed to believe the second is better than the first one because... she chose to wear that?

Sure, one could argue that at least she dressed herself and that definitely gives her agency, but it's really Rachel telling on herself where her priorities are in trying to write a "feminist comic" that she had Persephone dress herself and then STILL have its only purpose be for men on the sidelines to stare at and objectify her. When you just know this same outfit would have undoubtedly been used to slut shame characters like Minthe or Thetis or Leuce.

I don't even know, man. The intentions in LO's writing are so confused, contradictory, and ultimately pointless. It's trying so hard to be "feminist" and a "deconstruction of purity culture" but then it turns around and reinforces all that same shit it's claiming to be fighting against anyways. Persephone would be an evil slut if she was with Apollo, look at her outfit! But not here, not the banana purse dress being oggled by strangers on the sidewalk, not now that she settled down with her old rich husband who she only knew for a couple weeks before being separated for 10 years but their love was just so strong and the thirst for dick so real that she and him loyally waited for one another until she was old enough to make it "not be creepy" anymore for them to hook up, but only after marriage. She's definitely not a gold digger like Minthe or a vapid slut like Thetis or a homewrecker like Leuce, nah.

I just wish she'd dress herself, for the love of god. Let her dress herself with her own input and not the influence of the people around her or the tone of the comic's own internalized misogyny that demands "woman must always be objectified for better or for worse, that is The Rule!"

Of course she can't "dress herself" though. She's an extension of Rachel and Rachel herself writes like an out-of-touch boomer who will and has gladly gone about how men are just clamoring at the bit to stare at her and get to her... but then claims she "didn't realize sexism was all that bad" until she started working on LO.

Sorry, this post got very long and very mean, I initially just wanted to make the comparison in a very silly haha "wild how bad ending Persephone has way more visual personality than good ending Persephone" way, but then I thought about it too long and pissed myself off LMAO

And no, I don't want to go back to beating the dead horse of "banana dress bad" because honestly, I think in any other context or comic, sure, it would be very cute to see her walking around in an outfit she chose herself even if it's "objectively" not a great outfit, it shows agency and not caring what other people think which is VERY freeing. But we're not reading that comic, we're reading LO, where a woman's worth and value is only determined by how the men around her react to her and only Persephone is allowed to be empowered by wearing outfits that would otherwise be treated as "slutty" if worn by anyone else.

I don't want the message to be "Persephone looks like a dumbass bimbo" or, on the flipside, "Persephone looks boring and out-of-touch", I want the message to be "Persephone is valid for dressing how she wants, just like how the women around her are valid for dressing how they want regardless of whether or not they're protagonists or antagonists."

Quit using women's fashion as an alignment chart, quit using these "not so sly for a misogynist guy" dogwhistles as a way to "other" the women around the power fantasy main character. Women deserve to dress how they want without shame or objectification - all women, not just the women you like.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Only Love Can Break Your Heart

You've had enough of not being your own person. You aren't a division of him, your husband, nor the women he sleeps with when he's bored of you.

a/n: if you haven't read the book by katherine webber GO READ IT NOW ITS SO GOOD I CANT EVEN WITH YOU !! this is inspired by that except married couple divorce not really uh yeah i needed to get those out of my system to work on requests!

tw: angst, no happy ending, mentions of smut, non explicit nsfw, mentions of drinking problems, alcohol, stuff yada yada

wc: 1.7k

When you called him from the city, you knew even despite his grumbling of the long drive, he would still make it. Still take his rusty old car all the way out here, just for you, to plead for your forgiveness. Without meaning to, you’d memorized every part of him.

That’s how you knew he’d changed.

The man sitting next to you, hands gripping the steering wheel tight, jaw set in parallel to the tight lines around his lips, pain coursing through the burnished planes of his cheekbones, setting flame to the skin you once longed to touch.

As you watch him drive, the silence between you feels heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You can feel the distance growing, like a vast chasm separating the two of you. His eyes, once the most gentle shade of the sea, now seem distant and guarded.

“Stop looking at me,” he grits out from behind his teeth.

“I’m not,” you say softly, gaze fixing on his hands.

“I can feel it.”

“Do you feel guilty yet?”

The edge of his lip curls. “No, because I don’t know why the fuck you’re mad at me!”

But he knows he’s lying.

He knows exactly what he did.

<><><><>

You thought it would be just another casual Sunday afternoon, popcorn punctuating the muffled TV in the other room. You kicked off your slippers, lounged carelessly on the couch, waited for Leon to come home.

But he’s three hours late, three thousand ticks of the clock away from when you expected him, and when he stumbles through the door, the only way you can tell he’s drunk is the slight lean he has, wobbling to the left as he slumps into your arms.

Your foot taps a rapid pace on the wooden floor, arms crossed, uninviting. You’ve been awaiting a drinking problem, you know his past, but you weren’t expecting it so soon.

First come the tears. Your husband is a dramatic man, and although you’ve waved off an occasional drink or two, the heartfelt apologies whispered between your thighs, he’s wasted enough to let those walls come crashing down, tumbling all around you, leaving only the remnants of the sea pooling in your sweatshirt.

Then, after he’s wiped his eyes and gained enough courage to look at you, come the profuse apologies that slip past his lips, wind down your shoulders and prod your chest, seeking forgiveness from your heart. So accustomed to the quiet, obedient life you had both been living, you don’t give it easily.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just couldn’t stop thinking that maybe it was you, and maybe our life is a bit boring, and maybe you do the same things sometimes and don’t tell me, and she said it was all okay-”

“She?” you interrupt, voice far too gentle. “Who’s she?”

"She... she was just a distraction," he stammers, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear. It was stupid, I know, please, don't leave me. I love you, I'm so sorry."

His words echo hollowly in the empty space, each syllable a dagger twisting in your bloody chest. Tears trace paths down your cheeks, rivers of sorrow as you look up at him, bleary eyed, trying to comprehend why he would ruin everything.

"I trusted you," you whisper, your voice barely above a broken sob. "I thought we had something real, something worth fighting for. How could you do this to us?"

His silence is deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of emotions that swim through your legs, rendering them useless. You feel lightheaded, dizzy, and some small part of you wants to blame yourself.

It must be your fault, the voice taunts, pleads, even. You were just too boring for him. You can change, can’t you?

You find yourself standing on the precipice of what could change your life, a rocky cliff, toes poking out against the edge. What would your life be without him?

"Please, it won't happen again," he pleads, his voice cracking. "I swear, I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. I love you more than anything, and I can't bear the thought of losing you."

A part of you longs to believe him, to cling to the hope that this nightmare could be just a momentary lapse in judgment, a cruel twist of fate. His fingers are creeping around your waist, snagging you like a fish on a hook.

In a way, you assume, you are as gullible as that.

With a heavy heart and a trembling voice, you whisper, "Okay, I trust you." The words taste bitter on your tongue, a bitter pill swallowed in the idea that you’re only trying to salvage what’s left.

But deep down, a seed of doubt blooms into a thorny vine that wraps itself around your wounded heart. Can trust truly be rebuilt from the ashes of his thin apologies, or are you simply setting yourself up for more heartache down the road?

You shake your head as he disappears into the bathroom and the sound of running water covers up your soft sniffles. There’s a determined, confident, trustful smile on your face that only seems slightly forced.

Leon’s a good man.

It won’t happen again. 

<><><><>

But it happens again, and again, until all you come home to is the draft blowing in through the vent and a cluttered house. You suppose you should be grateful you’ve never had children. It’s happened so many times.

And every time, you forgive him like a bitch in heat, like a teenage girl so desperate for him, for your fake image of love, even when you know he’s toying with you. Did he ever care? You fool yourself into believing that when he pushes you into the wrinkled, old cotton sheets, or when he buys you those fragrances you eye whenever he takes you out to shop.

You’ve forgotten the meaning of love, what it means to be cared for, how it feels to be cherished. In his eyes, those beautiful, sullen eyes, you are nothing but another responsibility, another burden, another chore.

You want it to stop. You want to stop feeling this way. So you turn the tables on him, that night, when the door creaks open and his footfalls echo through the house, it's empty.

There’s a note left on the table from you, signed in that sweet, loopy handwriting you thought he admired. Leon… blah blah blah, visiting friends, need some time to myself… all just empty thoughts from a mind that knows nothing but pain.

The letter ends up in the bin that day just before he calls one of the numbers saved in his phone. It lies there, forgotten, as the sounds of muted kisses seem to crinkle it even more.

<><><><>

You watch them in the taxi, through the camera you had set up in the houseplant that you knew Leon never bothered to look at. Is that all you are to him? A drooping aloe vera, lost all its nutrition and sun, useless?

They make out wildly, planting kisses everywhere, and you realize that maybe he never loved you to begin with. Maybe this was all just a joke to him. You can see the tray of cookies you made last Christmas, when everything seemed fine.

He had pushed you onto the island, crowding between your legs, grinning up at you. “You know I hate all that sugary shit,” he had whispered, nosing the area between your neck and jaw.

“Should’ve replaced it with salt, then,” you mumble to yourself, biting your lip to suppress the sob that claws at your throat. You exit the app, then delete it. 

You’re never going back.

Leon’s not a very good man.

<><><><>

Your nights are restless, tossing and turning, when your friend groans and flicks on the lamp, expression immediately softening at your pained eyes.

She gathers you in her arms, lets you cry into her, soaking up your agony. You’re glad she doesn’t chastise you, tell you how she had seen this coming ages ago. Maybe you should start listening to your friends when they warn you about men.

He tries to reach out to you, to bridge the gap that has formed between you both, but each time you pull away, walls impenetrable with your friend standing guard behind them. The ache in your chest grows with each passing moment, a constant reminder of what once was and what can never be again.

You start taking classes again. He had stopped you, deemed it was ‘unladylike’ to be studying. You had agreed with him like a fool, stupidly nodding your head to whatever came from his mouth.

Your friend is there through everything. You only wish you had told her how much you appreciated her help when you call Leon, ready to pry him from your thoughts.

<><><><>

You finally reach your destination, the weight of the unspoken goodbye hanging heavy in the air. You know that this is the end, that the love you once shared has turned to ashes. 

“We could’ve made it work,” he argues, once again, running a hand through his darkening hair. Everything about him seems somber now, more depressed. You suspect that the alcohol has finally caught up to him.

And faintly, with pride, you realize that you don’t care.

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” you seethe. “We were never going to work, because I will always be too boring for you. Just a toy, right? I’m done with your shit!”

You don’t let him get the last word. That would nag you far too much. So you walk away from him, from the image of you that clung to him every waking moment, your back a silent farewell.

If he had broken up with you, what, a week ago, you would be left alone with the shattered pieces of your heart, knowing that you might always be missing a piece of yourself.

But now…

Now?

You are whole.

[sst0rmm]

♡₊˚ a piece of you・₊✧

ft: isagi, rin.

notes: their habits and idiosyncrasies 🫧 𓇼 ೀ

part/series: 1.0 2.0

wc: 1809

yes i named this after the song u have to listen to it its utter perfection

makes me feel like the world is ENDING but you're in love, so it's okay ;)

taking a tiny baby little break from the in the mornings series to write this one (shameless plug, go check it out bcs rin and isagi r everything)

i have been gone for a while, SO SORRY life happened :(

god listening to the song makes me cry for a love (i never had)

okay isagi my lover's up first

isagi yoichi 💙🧿🫧

isagi will cook and clean and prep everything for your arrival back home. when he's not at a game, far, far away, with only the isolated moon as his company (he wonders how he ever slept alone in a bed before), he basically becomes a doting house-husband.

when you're about to come home, he'll have prepped everything and made everything as neat and perfect as he will. because in his heart, your happiness comes first.

if the sun didn't shine at your workplace, or wherever you were out, he'll bring the sun back home.

"you didn't need to do this- isagi-"

"i wanted to, baby." he holds a finger against your lips and gives you that soft, sweet, slow kiss that never hesitates to make your world spin and clouds disappear and a garden of love bloom in your heart.

"now, let's eat."

AGHAHAHGHAHGH house husband isagi is best isagi and i will not believe otherwise

this isn't the only thing he does...

isagi will also get in his little sentimental moods. he'll spend his days scouring images of you, walking around the house, and one time even smelling your shampoo.

it's a fondness that grows in the utter core of his being when he's with you, and without you, he feels a little alone. like a neglected plant in a vast, vast field, he'll grow again when he's with you.

and he's also a little frightened. you wouldn't believe that one of the best strikers in the world'd be frightened, but these inner voices that whisper in his mind, a hypnotizing siren's song, tell him "he's not good enough."

when you're not there, only the voices remain, eating at him from the inside.

after all, he's not the most athletic, the best technique. he just has his mind, and when that starts to fail, what else does he have?

you come home to no warm meal one night. rain plops steadily with a thunk-thunk noise on your roof, and you see isagi staring vacantly at an empty TV screen.

you call out his name, but he doesn't respond. keeps on staring at that TV, blank as can be. you feel a soft shiver down your spine, but you shake it off and creep on the couch next to him.

"isagi, are you-?"

you don't finish your sentence before he wraps you up in a hug. it's crushing, like if he lets go of you you'll leave, and he'll be surrounded by the torrent of his own emotions.

he'll drown in them.

blue eyes look down at you wide and you can see the tinge of anxiety.

"listen to me," because you've seen this mood many a time before, "you are good enough, isagi yoichi. the glue that holds the team together- it's you. you're perfect the way you are."

and the wan smile that he had on before explodes into a defeaning, perfect crescendo. isagi's real smile, reserved for truly joyous moments with his team or simply whenever he's with you, is blinding and beautiful to behold.

"thanks, y/n, i really needed that." now, he presses a soft kiss onto your lips, and you're met with the heady taste of chocolate (you glimpse discarded wrappers in the corner of your eye). his lips are so soft, so pillowy that you can feel your heart stop and your body become fully aware of him.

you melt against him, souls intertwined, then take him by the hand. "now, let's go make dinner."

oh my goodness okay okay isagi fever is real

next blue lock dream man is up!! (they're all dreamy perfect beautiful but still)

rin itoshi ˖𓍢ִ໋🍃✧°.💚

rin is caring, no doubt about that, but also a victim of his own genius. sometimes, he stays late at the field, practicing kicks and plays with undying fervor.

it's like a light has switched on his mind and it refuses to be switched off- it's hard to understand the inner workings of rin's mind, sometimes.

tonight is one of those days that he's just completely fired up. for whatever reason, he stays two hours after practice. no texts, no calls, and he leaves you staring at the clock anxiously. by now, dinner has gotten cold, and the only thing you can hear is the rhythmic tap of your fingers on the kitchen counter.

like, silence has never been so loud.

rin walks in around ten minutes later, face sweaty and hair a mess. he reaches out to hug you, but you decidedly step away and cross your arms.

you're a little bit more than mad. "where have you been?"

your boyfriend's brows furrow. "at the field, where else would i be?"

you scoff. it's not like you want to start an argument, but he needs to know where to draw the line. "well, i don't know. i called you like, three times but you didn't pick up."

"it's not the first time this happened," rin sighs, scratching the back of his neck, teal eyes downcast at the floor. normally, you would've left it at that, but you realize if you don't put your foot down now, this perpetual cycle of anxious worry will continue.

you gaze straight at his face pointedly. "yeah, it's not. which is why i'd like it to stop before it continues."

rin groans. "come on, y/n. i know i messed up, alright? i promise not to do it again."

"that's what you said the last time, and the time before that too." your voice is calm, measured, carefully controlled. then it breaks. "i'm just worried about you, rin."

he opens up his arms in search of another comforting embrace. you're not sure if it's more for you or for him. his teal eyes cloud over a little bit with sadness.

"i'm sorry, okay? i shouldn't have left you hanging like that."

"yeah, you shouldn't have."

"but-" rin's eyes alight with a determined fire, that very same fire he gets when he's on the field, that very same fire that can melt your heart into a puddle and make you weak in the knees, before he opens his mouth, "i'm done making excuses, y/n."

you don't even realize that you're crying until you look down and see the bottom of your, or rather rin's hoodie, slightly damp. rin's at your side in a flash, cupping your face with warm palms. the warmth of his skin on yours threatens to set your heart aflame.

"y/n, you're the end goal," he promises, while staring deep into your eyes. your vision is full of him- the slightly curved bow of his lips, hair pointing every which way, but most of all, his eyes, which seem to send an unspoken message to yours.

you can feel all your nerves sparking alight with the intensity of his gaze.

his lips press on yours decidedly, insistently, with no disguise of softness. you surrender immediately and throw your arms around him, and they nestle on the curve of his neck while he presses you flush against him.

it's electric, and you think you'll never quite have enough of rin itoshi. his tongue gently slides into your mouth, meeting yours, and you sigh.

"i love you. so much."

your head can barely come out of the kiss-induced daze. "i love you too," you respond, and the two of you melt against each other.

outside, the night is young, and the stars wink brightly down, as if to foreshadow a good omen. you smile against rin's lips and kiss him, this time is soft, sweet, and slow.

YESSS this made me rememberr how much i love writing on tumblr loll

you know what's coming next.. ;)

rin is also very possessive. maybe it's because he's used to getting what he wants, where he wants, when he wants it. especially in football, he basically always gets what he wants with how hard he works.

you were actually the exception to the rule- unlike the population of the rest of japan- you didn't fall for him at first sight. of course, that only made him love you more, and make the wait worth both your whiles.

anyways, if he sees another guy's hands on you, it's game over for the guy. in your case, your friend's slinging his arm around your shoulders while you two are walking down the street after getting coffee.

"and like, she totally cussed him out," your friend stage whispers, and you laugh.

"oh my god, really? but like-"

rin rounds the corner just then, smiling in a way that would be uncharacteristic to anybody else except for you. "hey, babe, i brought you some coffee-" then he sees your friend's arms around your shoulders, and his eyes darken.

your friend, however, doesn't seem to notice. "is that your boyfriend?"

before you can respond, rin interjects. "yeah. i'm her boyfriend." he says it so matter-of-factly, so aggressively, that you wonder how your friend doesn't realize rin's intentions.

because your friend probably doesn't have a death wish, and also because you don't want to see your boyfriend behind bars, you step out from underneath your friend's arm.

"hey, rin," you press your hands against his chest and peck him softly on the cheek. he relaxes, but instead winds an arm around your waist, pressing you close to his side. you almost blush in embarrassment at his clearly possessive behavior.

your friend seems to take the hint. "so, i'm just gonna go now..." you wave goodbye, while rin just looks at his retreating form with a glare.

secretly, you're kind of more amused than anything. also, it's kind of endearing to see how much he cares. you roll your eyes. "what was that all about?" knowing full well what it's about.

rin grumbles. "i didn't like his arm around your shoulders."

you bat his arm playfully. "so what? it's not like i'm dating him or anything..."

rin's eyes spark with that very same fire again. thankfully, you guys have moved past the stage of your relationship where rin would actually argue with you about this sort of thing. "that's right, cause you're dating me."

to prove his point, he presses his lips against yours and pulls you tight to him. he's only wearing a tank top, and you can feel the hard press of his muscles, warm through the thin fabric.

rin kisses like he plays football- all or nothing- and the heady, intoxicating sensation is enough to make you forget where you are, why you're there. a passerby wolf-whistles, but the two of you barely register it.

all you feel is the way your body slots perfectly against his, the sensation of his lips sending a wave of heat coursing through your body all the way down to your toes, and the soft press of his fingers, one on your cheek, the other rubbing soft circles on your hips.

then, he grins mischievously and pulls away, leaving you standing there for a second before clearing your thoughts and catching up to him.

"you did that on purpose," you complain. rin simply smirks as if to say i did, didn't i? and winds his arm around your shoulders this time, as the two of you walk forwards together into the sunlight.

YAYY THANKS SM for readingg

i lowkey forgot about this tumblr acc im not even gonna lie... life happens grrr but i'm back again!! divider creds today go to @attxnt tysmm 💖

(two more pics bcs y not lmaoo)

OK LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR READING! pls lmk who u might want me to write next in the comments :)

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

With the last breath

Word count: 1577

Warnings: depression, suicide attempt

Part II

At first, I'm sorry for my English. It isn't my native language, so there are mistakes and maybe it wouldn't give sense. Writing this was a real challenge and it showed me my (language) limits😅

For the first actual fanfiction I post here I'd say it's quite dark. I wrote it after fight with husband as kind of distraction. Well, it served its purpose.

Declaration: I write just for fun✌️

One day you were on a way to deliver some documents to Rhysand. He sent a request to the library to look for certain information he urgently needed and when everything he asked for was collected, Clotho asked you to deliver it to him. As the only person who from time to time didn't mind to go out, you had a good relationship him and knew all of the members of the inner circle. You often worked with them and helped them as you knew the library so well as the back of your hand.

Entering the River House you headed to his office. Clotho had sent him a notice of your visit early in the morning, so you knew where to look for him. As you approached the office door you could hear his voice and the voices of two other males. He was there together with his brothers standing around the table with maps and papers on it and discussing something important. You didn't want to disturb them, so you silently walked through the open door and set the documents on a small table right next to the door. Spymaster's eyes met yours for a second as he was the only one facing the door and he noticed the movement. Finding out it's you, as usually, he lost interest and returned to whatever they were looking at together. Rhys noticed his eyes went up and he also turned to you with a big, kind smile.

„Is that the information I asked for?“

„Yeah, it should be all. I checked it several times to make sure,“ you whispered silently, but he heard you.

„Would you mind to stay for lunch since you've come this far? It would be just three of us, Feyre and Elain,“ Rhys invited you.

Your eyes hastily darted to Azriel. His jaw slightly tightened, but you didn't miss that small move. „I'm afraid I need to return back..“ you tried to smile little.

„Are you already going back? Don't you need escort?“ Cassian turned to you too, offering help.

He and Rhys were kind to you and seemed to be happy to see you whenever you met them. Rhys always asked you to join a meal with his family and sometimes you'd accept it. On the other hand, Spymaster has never bothered to treat you with more than a short look or few casual phrases at the best. Even though he didn't seem to be really fond of you, he tended to sit next to you on a sofa or hold a seat for you next to him at the table. But it was a long time ago. Maybe he noticed you eyeing him with interest and that was the reason his behaviour changed over the years from 'I can tolerate you' to 'such a nuisance'. He personally didn't do nor say anything bad to you. But you could feel it from him somehow. You hadn't much of magic in your blood, but you was able to read any subtle signs and understand how people around you feel. That's the reason you stopped accepting invitations and tried to cross his path as little as possible. In the moments like this it was impossible to avoid meeting him and he seemed to be fine with it, paying you minimum attention. But as soon as somebody asked you to join them for a meal or evening, you could feel a slight discomfort from him. You tried to brush it away, but still it hurt.

When you met him for the first time you were afraid of him. As you got to know inner circle better, you learnt there's actually nothing scary about him and that deep down he is a very kind person. His silent, calm and caring nature appealed to you and before you noticed you fell in love with him. You couldn't help it even though you knew you don't have any chance. Masking it as best as you could, you decided to suffer in silence. You knew about his feeling toward Mor and when Archeron sisters entered your lives you noticed his shift of interest to Elain too. You weren't ugly, but there was no way you could compete with such beauties as the two of them. And you were well aware of that. That's why you've never tried to approach him and talk to him properly and after feeling a kind of discomfort from him in your presence, you tried to keep your distance and avoid him.

You excused yourself as fast as you could and turned around to leave. When you were sure that Rhys and Cass turned back to the table, you allowed yourself a single glance to him over your shoulder. His features were relaxed. He was so painfully beautiful that tears welled up in your eyes and the painful hole in your chest got little bigger.

After meeting him you needed some time to calm down and bury those feelings back so deep that nobody could notice them. You were walking around the city till you were sure you regained your peace. And just then you decided to head back to the library.

When you were climbing up the stairs you heard some muffled voices. You've never spied on other people, but this time you couldn't resist it and peaked to the hall to see who could it be. And there you saw them. Azriel stood with his back against the wall, Elain standing on her tiptoes with arms around his neck leaning into him. They started to kiss, slowly at first, but soon enough their passion took over. You couldn't stand it. Tears stinging your eyes once again, you left as silently as possible. When you were far from them and they couldn't hear you anymore, you run to your room as fast as you could. Closing the door you slid down to the ground unable to stifle your sobs. Knowing he has a thing for somebody else wasn't as painful as to actually see them together. It utterly broke your heart leaving you unable to breathe properly. Your life was pretty simple, you didn't have much. Your love for that male and a little faith you held were basically all you had left and the scene you witnessed totally crushed it all.

It took you hours until you calmed down enough to be able to stand up. You opened the door. You didn't know where to go, but you couldn't stand to be here anymore. Your legs took over the control, marching on their own. Suddenly you found yourself on one of the balconies heavily leaning on the railing. You slightly leaned over the edge looking down. The balcony was so high it made you nauseous. You pulled back to the safety. Spending most of the time in the library you've never gave much thoughts to heights at which you lived. You just occasionally had chance to stop and look out the window. Carefully you sat up on the railing back facing outwards. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, to get through the pain and the shock. You tilted your head back watching floating clouds. As child you spent hours lying in the grass and watching clouds. It used to be so relaxing, but now you felt nothing, except emptiness. There was a bird flying high above you. You sighed. How beautiful it would be if you could fly. You'd took off flying far from this place, far from these people, far from him. What it must be like to feel so free and weightless. If you lean back little more, you could find out. It would be so nice to fly down, to never have to feel anything anymore. You knew you should be scared to even think about such things, but instead you felt numb.

 The bird was getting bigger as it flew closer. You closed eyes and leaned back more and more. Suddenly you felt so light, flying like that bird. Small smile formed on your lips and you stretched out arms like wings.

Azriel was flying back to the House of Wind when he noticed somebody leaning dangerously on the edge of railing on one of the highest balconies. It was strange, but he was tired so at first he didn't pay much attention to it. He looked away just for a moment and the person disappeared. His throat tightened. He immediately plunged headlong down, but he wasn't fast enough. The person was only few meters away from a certain death. He had to winnow. Stepping into shadows he reappeared few foots bellow the person stretching out arms to catch... HER! There was no doubt. It was Y/N. What happened? Why would she do something so horrible? What if he tries to catch her, but she slips through his hands and dies? He'd never been so scared in his entire life. If something were to happen to her, he'd never forgive himself. All sounds of the world disappeared, he could hear only own heart racing in his chest. It took just mere seconds, but it seemed to take forever. The moment her body collided with his, the time had stopped. He squeezed his eyes, muscles tensing, wings spreading to stop their fall.

When he finally dared to open his eyes, there she was safe in his arms, pressed to his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief.

[googleitlol]

So.

This might be the longest one I've posted (it’s a little longer than my Doubles chapter), and I cut a couple things for spoiler reasons, so DAMN!

This chapter might jump around a bit because of the cuts, but I hope it's still enjoyable! Dove just has the time of her life in this one, a real fluff piece 😃👍

CW: blood

Dove Masterlist:

Chrysanthemum

The coast is clear, you’re good to go.

Not a single sound echoes down the long halls of the palace, all occupants fast asleep beneath the pale moon, save for the guards. You close the door to your room, careful not to be too loud as you sneak through the palace. Looking down at the note in your hands, you follow its directions. It lists various turns to take, and you are mindful of the presence of any guards patrolling the area as you take them.

After coming back to your room for the night, you found a note from the prince on the foot of your bed. He likely wants to reconvene so you can tell him what you’ve learned thus far. Hopefully your investigations of the day will be helpful.

You peer around a corner, waiting for a pair of guards to leave the area before you can continue on your route. As you wait, something taps you over your shoulder. You quickly spin around, a familiar stone monkey standing behind you with a lazy smile.

“Woah.” He gives you a bit of a surprised look when you turn, his gaze studying you for a moment. You give him an expectant look, and it’s enough to help him find his words again. “Uh, good news, Dove. Master’s papers are now recertified!”

“Shh!” You whisper, holding your breath as you glance back to see whether or not he was heard.

Once you see that they are no longer in sight, you let out a sigh of relief. Wukong frowns, but lowers his voice nonetheless. “What does it matter if they hear us? You don’t have to be here anymore. We can fly back to the post house and meet up with the others, we can be out of this kingdom before sunrise.”

“Not yet.” You glance away, double checking the hall is clear on both ends

“What?” He laughs a little, confused. “Not yet? With how you looked at me the other day in the post house, I thought you would want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

You focus your gaze back on the monkey demon once you know you’re both in the clear. “I just need another day or two.”

Wukong scoffs a bit, crossing his arms. “You just might be married by then, these royal types put wedding arrangements together rather quickly.”

“Just a few more days, then I can leave.” You explain before turning away to continue your route.

“Why?” The sage asks from behind, sounding genuinely puzzled as you look back down for where to go next. You don’t get the chance to finish before a tail snatches the paper from your hands. “Are these… directions?”

You look back to see his almost perplexed expression. “What is this?”

“Jian Yu is expecting me, Wukong, this is important.” You do your best to explain, patience running thin rather quickly as you snatch the note back. The day had been a long one, and you don’t feel in the mood for your companion’s pushy curiosity.

You go to move before Wukong jumps in front of you, brows pulled into a deep frown. “You’re meeting the prince? At this time of night?!”

“Stop, it isn’t like that.” You roll your eyes, offended he could even come to that conclusion.

“Meeting your soon-to-be-husband in the dead of night?!” He continues to voice his unneeded concerns, shaking his head before taking your hand to lead you away. “If I knew you would actually fall for this guy, I would have opted to decline the proposal and fight our way out of this place!”

He can barely take you three steps before you pull your hand away. “Would you quit it?!” Wukong looks back at you with a huff as you speak, clearly as irritated as you feel. “He wants to know what I’ve found. I can’t leave yet because I might have found the one trying to kill him.”

Monkey scoffs with a grin, his tail coiling around his leg. “Why is he asking you to do it? Doesn’t he have guards for things like that?”

“He’s paranoid. If you’re mortal and your life is at a constant risk, you’re paranoid.” You rest your hands on your hips, giving your friend a glare. “He says he can’t trust anyone in the palace, and I don’t blame him.”

“So he gets his betrothed to do his work for him?” Wukong jeers, and you roll your eyes.

He doesn’t get it, you don’t expect him to. “I could care less about your feelings on this matter, I am seeing this through.”

“But why do you need so long?” He prods, his eyes narrow with agitation. “You said you know who his would-be killer is, just tell him and we can go.”

You shake your head. “It’s only a suspicion. Besides, even if I am right, I would like to stay and see to it that they are properly dealt with. That way, I will know Jian Yu is safe.”

You’re met with silence, Wukong’s eyes burning into yours. A song of crickets is all that fills the silence for a moment, Monkey tilts his head, frown deepening. You glare back, refusing to give him even an inch.

Then his eyes soften. He studies your face for a moment, brow still worried. “Are you okay?”

The question takes you off guard. “Fine, but I’m keeping the prince waiting. So if you will excuse me–”

“You don’t look fine.” He says, and you pause. “Look, I get it. You want to help this guy. That princess, demons in disguise, your first instinct is always to help them. And, you know, that’s a good thing. More people should be like that– I know Tripitaka wants my brothers and I to be more like that… but this is different.

“Just two days ago, you wanted nothing to do with this prince. Now, it’s like you are obsessed!” He reaches for your hand again, more gentle this time. “You look as though you’ve had no time to sleep, determined to have this task seen through.”

“Of course I am determined! I won’t just let him die.” You pull your hand back, stepping away from the sage.

Wukong clenches the hand he reached out. “I’m not saying you do that.”

“It’s what I would be doing if I leave now.” You glower. “I can save him, so that is what I will do.” Without another word, you turn on your feet and leave him where he stands. He doesn’t get the chance to say anything before you’re gone.

What does he know, anyway? Obsessed? Is that what he calls it? Yes, you want nothing more in this moment than to help Jian Yu, but anyone in your position would feel the same. How else are you meant to feel when a person asks you to save their life? How can a person turn their back at a request like that? What does Wukong know, anyway?

It doesn’t matter, what does is getting your information about your suspects to the prince. You follow the rest of the note’s directions carefully, avoiding the guards until you reach a door. As per the instructions, you knock on the frame of the door, your eyes flicking to and fro to ensure you’re neither seen nor heard.

The door slowly opens, the prince peering out to see you. “I was beginning to worry you would not come.” He smiles, looking down the hall himself to see if you were alone.

“I apologise for keeping you waiting.” You look down, tucking the paper into your sleeve now that you no longer need it. “I believe I have information on who may be the one who wants you dead.”

“Not out here, come inside. I want to make sure we are alone.” He opens the door fully, allowing you to enter what appears to be his room. With a quiet thanks, you let yourself into the space. You try your best not to overreact over how large his room is, reminding yourself there is a reason for your visit. You have no time to gawk over space in a room.

With a quick breath through your nose, you look back at the prince. “I believe there are two suspects. The first is the new palace gardener, Chun Hua–”

“It can’t be her.” He quickly dismisses the idea, moving past you to sit back on his bed.

You frown at his quick response. “You haven’t even heard my reasoning yet.”

“She has not been here long enough to be the one we’re looking for.” His reasoning makes you frown.

She was employed for weeks before the assassination attempt. “What do you mean by that?”

Jian Yu sighs, looking down to his hands that rest on his lap. “I’m sure you heard me chastising that man for giving me those flowers.” You hum a bit in acknowledgement. That was one way he could put it.

“My mother…” He pauses, eyes on his now clenched fist. “…she passed away early in the spring.”

Your frown lessens at that, his own hardening. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“She was killed in her sleep, that same flower was left at the foot of her bed by whoever took her life.” He continues, understanding finally dawning over you. When he told you this was about more than his own life…

It was really for her. “That’s why you wanted me to find whoever sent you the flowers?” You ask, the prince nodding in response.

“The arrows shot at me were laced with aconitum, the same toxin from that plant. I am certain that our killer is the same one who took my mother’s life. Chun Hua has only been employed here for the summer.” He explains, dismissing her as a suspect.

You hum a bit in thought. “Perhaps my second suspect is the one you’re looking for, then.” You begin telling him of your findings, what the gardener had informed you of and who the true culprit may be.

After discussing and coming to a consensus on who the attacker really is, you turn to leave. “Let’s reconvene in the morning. I have been neglecting my sleep and if we plan to bring this person to justice, I should be at my best.”

Before you can reach the door, the prince catches your hand. You look back at him to find the man smiling. “Thank you, for everything.” His eyes, though melancholy, are hopeful.

“I feel like for the first time in a long while, I don’t have to be afraid.” The gesture takes you aback, the optimism on his face chipping at your heart like an axe to a tree.

All you can manage is to give him a curt nod before leaving the room in a rush to get back to yours. When he looks at you like that– you can’t even bear to think about it. Why does he have to look so much like him? Why can’t you stop seeing his face?

By the time you make it back to your room, you can barely keep it together. Once inside, you lean against the door. You slowly slide down, and despite the hours you’ve spent following trails and hiking up mountains, the short run back to your room has left your knees weak and each breath laboured. You’ve seen him enough in your dreams, why must you now see him in the waking world too?! 

Why must he look like him? You can barely look him in the eyes for ten seconds before feeling your stomach twisting into knots. He tells you he feels safer now and all that reassurance does is make you wish you could crumble into nothing but ashes. Tears start to prick at your burning eyes, an unfortunate side effect to your swirls of emotion.

You didn’t want any of these feelings, but what else can you do? You can’t leave as long as he’s in danger, your job is not yet finished here. With any luck, the culprit will be apprehended and you can be on your way. You won’t have to torture yourself with this any longer. He can be saved, you can save him.

A rush of air passes through your lips, in and out as you take in a deep breath. If only that gift of yours could work on yourself, maybe you wouldn’t be feeling this way.

After taking a moment to regulate your breathing, you rise back to your feet, away from the door. Your feet move without you telling them to, almost in a daze as you stop at one side of your bed. Wukong may be right, you do feel exhausted, just a little drained. Taking a seat, you lean back on the bed, arms propping you up. As you lean back, your fingers brush against something on top of the covers, and you glance to your side with a frown. Strange, you didn’t leave anything on the bed.

The violet petals on your sheets make your frown deepen, a monkshood flower sitting atop your bed.

You don’t even have the chance to move before a hand wraps around your mouth, pulling you back while an arm wraps around your torso. Your hands fly to the hand covering your mouth, the attacker pulling you across to the other end of the bed as you kick to find any sort of grip, your shouts muffled.

The attacker stands back, pulling you off the bed and lifting you up so that you can’t reach the ground. “You never should have gotten involved, woman.” A low voice snarls before their hand removes itself from your face.

Your sharp intake of breath is cut short as you see your assailant hold up your own dagger, your bow and quiver still disposed of by the folding screen on the other side of the room. How long has this person been here? Did they wait for you?

The attacker swings down just as you quickly dig your elbow into their side. They recoil, grip loosening before you throw your head back to collide with their own. You’re able to free yourself as they reel back from the hit, cradling their head from the pain.

Facing your attacker now, you find it to be the same cloaked intruder from the day you arrived. The attacker recovers quickly, holding up your dagger and lunging for you again. You just dodge out of the way, blocking their wrist with your arm before parrying and pushing them away. You take the opportunity to kick them in their chest, pushing them to the ground and giving you a chance to run for your bow.

You turn to run, but trip as the attacker pulls at your hanfu. You fall, letting out a shout of pain as your chin collides with the hard wooden floor. There’s hardly a moment to blink before you’re grabbed by your shoulder and flipped onto your back.

The attacker hovers overtop of you, they almost plunge the dagger into your chest before you grab their wrist with both your hands. Your arms shake as they fight to push the blade down and you attempt to guide it away from your body. The attacker grunts, forcing your dagger closer and closer.

They start to overpower you, your strength slipping as the blade digs into the fabric of your clothes. The weapon sinks into your shoulder, the cool metal shooting a searing hot pain through your body. A cry of pain tears through your throat, the blade twisting into your flesh.

You let go of their wrist, screaming as they drive the dagger in further, before pulling them close enough to connect your fist to their jaw. The attacker stumbles back, falling to their side and taking the dagger with them. You’re able to push past the pain enough to sit up and shuffle back, enough to reach your bow.

Now armed, you reach for an arrow from your quiver before your assailant rises to their feet. You draw back the string, but before you can fire, a flash of ochre rushes past from your window. In the blink of an eye, Sun Wukong has the attacker pinned to the wall, his arm against their throat.

He’s scarily silent as he takes his staff from his ear to extend it, and you quickly stand. “Wukong, wait! You can’t kill them!” Whoever this is, they are no demon, and Tripitaka will never stand for his disciple to kill a human, no matter how guilty they may be.

The Monkey King snaps his attention to you, his hardened gaze softening when he does. Dropping his staff, he only turns back to your attacker to knock them out with a hit to the head. The assailant goes out cold, and you feel yourself begin to sway on your feet. Sun Wukong catches you before you can fall back into your folding screen, his eyes quickly finding the growing splotch of red over your shoulder.

You do your best to apply pressure over the wound with your hand, Wukong doing the same as he looks down in worry. “Dove, are you alright? Did they hurt you anywhere else? Is there any more blood?” He checks you over for any other injuries but you can only shake your head.

“I… I’m okay.” You pant, looking back at the unconscious attacker on the ground. With the threat neutralised, it takes you a second to catch your breath.

They really tried to kill you. If they’re trying to get you, that must mean they want you out of the way so they can get rid of the prince without interference. If that’s true, he could be in trouble this very minute. “Jian Yu, he’s in danger!”

You jump up, nearly toppling back over before steadying yourself. “Dove, wait!” Wukong gets to his feet as well, reaching to take hold of your arm but you’re already slamming the door open and running into the hall. You race through the building, tripping over your own feet but you refuse to let any slip ups slow you down.

By the time you get to his room, you don’t bother with knocking. The door shoots open and you run in, exhaling heavily until that final breath catches in your throat. The prince is limp on the floor on his side, at the foot of his bed. A figure stands over him, a small blade in hand dripping with his blood.

“No!” Your voice shreds as you run. The crack of wood echoes through the room as you slam your bow over the head of the figure just as they turn to face you. The hit carries enough force to snap your bow in two and send them to the floor, knocking them out.

Dropping what’s left of your bow, you kneel down to turn the prince on his back. He winces as you move him onto his back and pull him into your arms. “No, no no no no…” His eyes are still open, wide and terrified. Crimson seeps into his clothing from his abdomen, he’s convulsing and his breathing is erratic.

You were supposed to keep him safe, why couldn’t you keep him safe?! “No, no, please! Not again– not again! Stay with me!” His hands feel clammy as they grip onto your arm.

“No, no!” He goes to speak, but is unable to. You try to heal the wound, but you can hardly gather yourself to do so, you feel like the walls of the room are closing in. Even putting pressure on the wound feels futile, you can see the light in eyes leaving again as you try. “Listen to my voice, you can’t go! Jie! I won’t lose you again! Jie, please!”

Something makes you shake, you only now notice the hands on your shoulders. “Dove!” You look back to see Sun Wukong over your shoulder. Was he here this whole time? “The blade reeks of that flower.” He looks back to where the figure dropped their weapon and your heart sinks even lower. If that’s true, stopping the bleeding will do nothing. He’s going to die.

“Help him!” You plead, your hold of the boy tightening. “Please, Wukong, I can’t let him die! I can’t just sit here and watch him die again!”

The demon frowns. “I can’t do anything, I can’t cure the poison.” It’s happening again. You’ll have killed him twice. The same boy, twice–

“Dove, Dove! Snap out of it!” You’re shaken again, the Monkey King now in front of you. He’s blurry, your vision obscured by the tears now stinging your eyes. “I can’t help him, but you can. You can heal him.”

“I can’t!” You can hardly breathe, you can’t do anything to help him.

Wukong’s hold on your shoulders tightens. “Use your gift–”

“I’m trying!” Your voice cracks, the demon flinching back as you cradle the boy in your arms. “It’s not working! I can’t do it, I can’t save him! Jie’s dying and I can’t do anything!”

“Yes, you can!” He moves his hand to cup your face. He guides you to face him as he wipes the tears streaming down your face. “Look at me, Dove. You need to focus, breathe.” He speaks calmly, his voice low and grounding. “You’ve cured my blindness, an infected flesh wound is nothing in comparison! I know you can do it. Just breathe.”

His tail curls around your arm, squeezing in reassurance. He’s right, you’re the only one that can save him now. You can’t watch him die again, you won’t– He won’t die. You look back at Sun Wukong, and he gives you a reassuring nod. Your breathing begins to slow, and you look back down to Jian Yu.

Shutting your eyes tight, you do your best to regulate your breathing and focus on his injury. The agonising throbbing in your shoulder is a distraction, but one you bear as you begin to work. The wound is deep, the poison already coursing through his body. You focus on the poison, the blood pooling out from his abdomen,  his life that hangs on a thread.

In that moment, your already dwindling strength begins to slip as you work to heal him. You don’t stop, pushing to close the wound. You keep your breathing steady, your mind focused on your task as your energy slips away. Wukong’s hand leaves your face, and you feel arms catch you before you can even realise you fell over.

You open your eyes, now with barely enough energy to keep them open. It’s worth it when you see the prince lunge forward, sitting up in a panic before falling back.

Familiar arms keep you close, holding you to a chest that, under different circumstances, would make you chuckle over its faint scent of peaches. All you can manage is a soft grunt, the fight to stay awake becoming too much. Anything Wukong says to you falls on deaf ears, the struggle to stay conscious while ignoring the pain in your shoulder becomes too much.

At least he’s safe.

~~~~

Everything feels sore, your limbs heavy as your eyes start to open. Light pours into your room from the window as you lie in bed, it takes your eyes a moment to adjust. Your head thunders in this throbbing pain and when you reach up to feel it, you wince. Sitting up, you see that your shoulder is heavily wrapped, still aching from your dagger during that fight.

“Careful.” You turn to see Wukong at your side, taking you by your good shoulder and guiding you back to lie down.

Your brows furrow. “…Monkey?”

“How do you feel?” He asks, taking hold of your hand.

You groan a bit, massaging your temple with your free hand. “My head feels like it’s been split down the middle.”

Instead of any verbal response, your friend whacks you over the head with his tail. You grunt while he scoffs. “That must be what happens when you use all your energy after depriving yourself from sleep.”

“I was also stabbed. Trying to heal someone while bleeding out can be a little painful.” You deadpan, but only for a moment before realisation hits you. “The prince, is he–”

“Better than you, that is for certain.” He responds curtly, annoyance seeping through his words before smirking. “You saved his life.” Hearing that, you let go of a breath you had no idea you were holding.

As relief courses through you, Wukong continues. “All your screaming woke up half the palace. With you practically dead in my arms and that prince lying in his own blood, I had to convince the guards I wasn’t responsible for killing you both.” Oh, that would look bad.

He continues to inform you of the fate of the culprits. “They confessed yesterday to the other attempts as well as killing the queen. I’m not too interested in the politics of it all, but your beloved prince is safe.”

You don’t even process the sourness in his tone before jolting up to sit. “Wait, yesterday?!”

“Careful!” Wukong hisses, leaning over to ensure your shoulder is still alright. Once he’s done fussing, he lets out a tired huff. “And, yes, yesterday. You’ve been unconscious for the last… hmm, 37 hours? That’s what I counted anyway.” It’s been over a day?!

“Master and your sweet little prince have been in a few times to check on you and keep me up to date with what has been going on.” He explains, making you think on his words for a moment. Counting the hours, having people catch him up– has Sun Wukong been with you this whole time you’ve slept?

Huh. “So… he’s safe?” You want to ask him how long he’s been sitting with you, but you decide against it.

“Yes.” He rolls his eyes, and you shut your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath as the stress that’s been weighing on you finally lifts. He’s really safe.

When you open your eyes, you lean over to wrap Wukong in a tight embrace. “Thank you.” He stiffens at your touch, frozen for a moment before chuckling.

“Heh, you’re the one who saved your betrothed.” He mumbles, and you feel an arm slowly wrap around your back.

“I wouldn’t have been able to without you. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t with me.” You give the monkey demon one last squeeze before sitting back. You still hold him by his shoulders, offering a smile to show your gratitude.

You’re met with silence, your friend fixing you with a look you can’t quite read. His eyes look almost a little stunned, wide.

He eventually cracks a smile, but before he can say anything, a knock at your door interrupts you. One of the palace servants enter, it’s one of the women who have been taking care of you since you’ve been here. Her face lights up when she sees the two of you. “You’ve awoken! I will have the physician come to see you right away.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” You wave, but she’s already gone before you finish your sentence. After she leaves, you’re given another flick from Wukong’s tail. “Hey!”

“Shh, you do need to be checked on.” He huffs, crossing his arms. “To re-wrap your shoulder, or something… I don’t know, I’m not any sort of physician.” His gaze falls to the ground as he rambles, and you can’t help the smile that gives itself a place on your face.

You’ve seen it before, when he’s almost unsure of his words, but it’s not often when he acts like this. It’s endearing, though. He catches you staring when he looks back, and clears his throat. “I can leave you to rest, if you want.”

He stands to leave, but you catch his hand. “No, stay. I think I’ve slept long enough.” He looks back at you, traces of a small smile forming before he nods.

“Alright, then.” He shakes his head, almost in amusement, before returning to his spot by your side. “I could tell you what I’ve been up to with Master and my brothers.”

“Have the three of you managed to give Tripitaka a heart attack in my absence?” You grin, making the demon chuckle.

“Not yet, but we’ve gotten close.” He smirks, making you roll your eyes playfully. As he begins to fill you in on the hijinks that have ensued since you’ve been in the palace, you lie back and listen to your friend.

~~~~

After the physician leaves, a servant follows to take you to the gardens. Even with Sun Wukong’s reassurance of his well being, it’s still a welcome sight to see the prince on his feet again. He stands on the same bridge where all this madness started, a warm smile spreading to his face as he sees you approach.

He greets you as you join him on the bridge, and you do the same. “How are you feeling, Jian Yu?”

“Wonderful, thanks to you.” He nods. “Your monkey companion explained your powers to me, it seems you have saved my life twice now.”

You offer him a polite smile before turning to look out over the pond. “I heard the guilty party has confessed.”

The prince sighs. “Yes. At last, I can rest knowing my mother’s killer is going to pay for their actions.” You look back to him, his expression solemn at the mention of his mother.

Silence encompasses the space around you, save for the buzzing of insects and rustle of leaves. The prince seems… you’re not sure what to call it exactly. When you spoke that night before going back to your room, there was a fire in his words. With the criminal now locked away, that flame is barely there. Not put out, but small. There was such determination in his voice, but now he seems almost too quiet.

You take a moment to study his features. “Can you rest?”

It takes him a moment to answer. “…I hope I will be able to. I am unsure of what I feel now.” He frowns, stepping forward to lean on the railing of the bridge. “So many nights, I have spent tossing and turning in bed. I thought I was restless because of the thoughts about that monster still roaming free… but last night, I found no comfort.”

He looks down to the water, his fist clenching as his confused reflection looks back. “Is something wrong with me?”

You take a moment of thought before answering, your gaze on his back before stepping up to join him by the railing. “Perhaps your restlessness does not come from your anxieties. Maybe you just… miss her. That’s normal, to miss someone, to wish you could see them one last time.” You look down at his reflection in the pond, his eyes turning back to look at you.

“You understand that feeling, don’t you?” You feel yourself stiffen at the question, and your head swivels to look up at him. The prince quickly takes a step back, sensing your discomfort. “I was, um, conscious enough to still hear you for a bit. When I was bleeding out.”

Oh, he heard you. Your eyes fall back to the water as he continues. “You called me Jie. He was someone you were close to, wasn’t he?”

You stare back at your own reflection, and you notice the bags under your eyes. “…We were children. Demons attacked our village, we were separated from our families and he was trying to get us to safety.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes doesn’t stop you from seeing that night.

“He had given me a gift, I left it in my home and I wanted to retrieve it before we got somewhere safe. Everything was on fire… he wanted to leave but eventually, he followed me into the house.” Water begins to sting at your eyes, and you quickly wipe your tears before they have the chance to fall. “I got what I wanted, but we tried to leave and then… then I watched a blade run through his chest. His eyes–” You choke on your words, and the prince steps closer, holding you by your shoulders as you stifle a cry.

You look up at him, a sad smile on your face as you take in his worried features. Every expression he makes, it only reminds you of him. “You have his eyes. If he– If Jie had the chance to grow up, mature… I imagine he would have looked like you.” You look back down to the water, embarrassed to be saying any of this out loud. “I miss him. I miss him so much. Sometimes, I dream of that night, and I try to change things. It always ends the same.”

“…Can I tell you something?” Jian Yu whispers, and you look up to see him glance away. “I had another reason. For asking for your help, that is.”

You frown, now confused. “It seemed inappropriate at the time to mention it, but… when I first saw you the day you saved me, I– heh, I had the strangest feeling of nostalgia.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck almost awkwardly.  “It was like I was seeing someone I used to know, but I couldn’t quite recall.”

He looks back to you, but you’re not sure what to think of his words. The confession is almost too much for you to digest, but the longer you think it through, you find yourself smiling. “If my Da Jie were to reincarnate, I would not be surprised to find him as a prince in his new life.” You can’t help the sniffle that escapes, and the prince smiles.

“Is that who you think I am?” He questions, and you let out a tired huff.

“I’m not sure. Whether or not you are… would it be inappropriate of me to ask for a hug?” You ask.

“I think you need it.” Jian Yu opens his arms, and the two of you embrace. You hold him closely, no longer bothering to stop the tears as they fall.

The two of you stay in each other’s embrace for some time, and when you finally step back, you both hold onto one another’s arms. The prince gives you a kind smile. “When I was told you had awoken, I sent for your friends. They should be arriving soon.”

“Then I guess this is goodbye.” You return the smile, letting go of the man as he does the same.

“I suppose it is.” He nods, seemingly content before his eyes widen and his brows shoot up. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Follow me.”

Taking your hand, Jian Yu leads you off the bridge. He guides you back to the tree you first spotted him from, though now something tall lies against the trunk. It’s wrapped in cloth with a white chrysanthemum lying next to it. He takes the flower, handing it to you first. “Chrysanthemums were one of my mother’s favourite flowers. After I heard you calling for your friend the other night… I think she would find it appropriate that you have one.”

“Thank you.” You take the flower, twirling the stem as you look down at its delicate petals before Jian Yu hands you the second item, holding it in both hands..

You take the gift, unwrapping it before looking back to the prince in surprise. “I also couldn’t send an archer on her way without a bow.” It’s new, not even stringed yet. On the back of it, your name is inscribed.

“Yu… Thank you.” When you look back at him, you see your friend smiling back at you. 

“And thank you.” This time, it isn’t so hard to look him in the eyes.

Once you say your goodbyes, you meet the others back at the gates of the palace. With everyone accounted for, you leave the kingdom and resume the journey westward.

After catching up with everyone, you hang at the back of the group. It doesn’t take long for Wukong to fall back to your side, glancing over at your bow you hold in one hand while keeping the chrysanthemum between your fingers of your other hand.

He hums a bit, his lips stretched into a thin line while inspecting your new bow. “Your friend got you a cool new toy, huh?”

You hold the bow up with a soft smile. “It might take me some time to get used to it, but it’s a brilliant bow.” He lets out a bit of a scoff at your answer, and you look back at him with an amused brow raised.

“Well, hey, if you ever run out of arrows, just let Ol’ Monkey know.” He points back at himself, your grin growing as you begin to see hints of… is that jealousy? Is this why he was acting so upset that night when he caught you going to the prince? What does he have to be jealous of, it isn’t as though you would consider abandoning the pilgrimage. You are a buddhist monk, after all.

The sage plucks out a bit of hair from his arm. “All I have to do is take a few hairs and…” He turns them into arrows, all a perfect length for your new bow.

You accept the arrows, your grin showing no signs of fading as you slide them into your quiver. It does, however, morph into the thankful look you give your friend. “Thank you, and Wukong? I want to apologise for how I spoke to you earlier.”

“I was stressed and overtired, and maybe a little obsessed– but that’s no excuse. I know you were only trying to look out for me, and I appreciate that.” You look back to your friends ahead of you, this warm feeling filling your chest. You’ve missed being in their presence, it was good that Wukong was able to check in on you every now and then in the palace. He kept you afloat in the stress that threatened to drown you.

He takes the chrysanthemum from your hand. “It’s alright, it is my fault for putting you into that position in the first place. I’m just glad you’re here with us now.” He tucks the flower behind your ear as he speaks. “I know how much this entire ordeal has been weighing on you. I sort of, uh… maybe eavesdropped on you and the prince before you left.”

You raise a brow at his confession, though you aren’t too surprised, knowing who he is. “I’m sorry about your friend.” He offers his condolences, and you look back down at the path you’re on.

“If it makes you feel better, you would have had to leave him anyway for your stay in the Jade Palace, right?” He attempts to comfort you, but the deadpan stare you give him is enough for him to backtrack. “I- I mean, uh… no matter what could have happened, what did happen, I’m sure he’d be thrilled to know you really were listening to all those times where he rambled about his little plant facts.”

His words make you hum in acknowledgement, and after a moment you smile. “Yes, I can imagine how happy he’d be about that. He’d be at ease to know I don’t go around picking poisonous flowers anymore.” You laugh, looking ahead to your group.

Yeah, he’d be happy to see where you are now.

[thekatebridgerton]

So this is another episode of stories I want to read and I don't have the energy to write because it's 2am and I still can't sleep: real enemies to lovers past life au

And I mean I want a real enemies to lovers Bridgerton au where the Bridgertons straight up killed their love interest in the most Brutal way possible because they were that bad. Maybe its a past life in a fantasy world where the Bridgertons were dark overlords and their enemies were a powerful band heroes trying to defeat them who were killed by them to maintain power. But when the heroes died, the Bridgertons realized that there was nothing woth conquering anymore without an arch enemy and pretty much destroyed the world

But then the reincarnation happens and it's 1800 regency England and the spouses immediately recognize the people who killed them in a past life and go like ' nope, I don't like people who murdered me in my past life 'while the Bridgertons themselves don't know why they feel drawn to these people who keep fighting/avoiding them.

Kate knows Anthony murdered her in her past life, she remembers and he doesn't, in her past life she was a powerful mage who saw her friends die one by one trying to eradicate the Bridgertons and faced off with Anthony in a brutal final battle, in this life she's trying to protect Edwina from the vultures of the ton and he's trying to get close to Kate, for someone unknown reason. she's going to shoot him one of these days and struggles with the knowledge that in this life he's done nothing to deserve it. he's all she ever trained to destroy in her past life, in this one, he's just a foolish man, how can she let go of old grudges if he keeps frustrating her so much and trying to get on her good side

Sophie was a saint with healing powers in her past life, she's a maid in this one, big deal she can get trough this. Her plan is to reach spinster age, hunt down Phillip or Simon and start her own medicine practice. Except that the guy who killed her in her past life somehow found her first, he's offering to help her get a job as a maid in his house ( serving his other 7 muder happy siblings? No thank you) she's trying to avoid him, found work with Lady Danbury, and he thinks they're soulmates just because she nursed him that one time. Seriously if she wasn't honor bound as a healer in her past life she would have left him to die!! Why wont he get away from her.

Penelope was killed in the least violent way, past life Colin was almost gentle when he killed her, so she's always had a soft spot for him. She was willing to let the past life lie and be his friend until he said he'd never court Penelope Featherington!. As if she would want him to! That idiot!. In her past life she was a paladin who never married and had her life cut short by Colin..She's going to save up her LW money, buy herself a husband and move far away from her former executioner... Wait a minute! He should take responsibility for that, she didn't even have a first kiss in her past life because of him! He should give her one! She's determined not to die a virgin in this life and she's going to make it Colin's problem if he keeps sniffing around her business!

[fanficrocks]

Aftermath

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Fandom: Endeavour (TV)

Missing scene at the end of Neverland

WC: 990

A ghostly moan, then a rattle, jerked Peter Jakes out of his daze. Abandoning his contemplation of the floor, he took in the dimly lit waiting room at Cowley General, the wind and rain raging outside, and the bare branches of the alder tapping against the window panes. The moaning and rattling thus explained rationally, he turned to where Mrs. Thursday sat stubbornly upright in the middle of the sofa, Joan and Sam collapsed on either side. Joan's head and shoulders were wrapped in her mother's scarf while Sam, looking very young, huddled under her coat. He wondered whether Joan and Sam understood what they had here? And would continue to have, no matter what happened.... 

Stopping that thought in its tracks, Jakes noticed with a pang that Mrs. Thursday looked very frightened - and very cold. He couldn’t do anything about the former... nobody could, not until DI Thursday came through the operation. But the latter? He slipped off his overcoat, silently crossing over to the sofa and wrapping it as best he could around Mrs. Thursday. She didn't resist, but hardly seemed to notice, and the tiny shivers coursing through her arms didn't stop. 

In that moment, Jakes wanted more than anything to kneel down before the sofa and wrap his arms around her. To give her some strength if she would accept it, and selfishly take some comfort from her in their shared anxiety over the good man fighting for his life. But it wasn't his place, and he knew that. There was perhaps one whom the Thursdays might have granted that right, but he was absent - another victim of the evildoers who had attacked the DI.  

Forcing himself to step away, he went out into the corridor, resolutely turning away from the operating theatre doors with the ominous red light above them. On the other side, the corridor ended at the nurses' desk, usually bustling but now shrouded in silence. Well, aside from the thunder and lightning raging outside, seemingly upending the world with every rumble and flash. The nurse on duty looked up sympathetically, the unconcealed worry on Jakes’ face enough to melt far harder hearts than hers. 

"Please, Sister - I know this is against the rules, but when you next make a cup of tea for the staff, would it be possible to get a cup for Mrs. Thursday in the waiting room? Her husband is the police officer they are operating on just now. And she is so worried - and so cold."

"Of course. Give me a minute and I will make a fresh one. You can take it to her. If I were a Sister, I would offer you one too; but I am only a student nurse and Matron is a real martinet." 

Insensibly soothed by the moment of light camaraderie, Jakes accepted the cup of (well-sugared) tea and returned to the waiting room. Relieved to see the hot drink stop Mrs. Thursday's shivering, however temporarily, he set aside the empty cup and resumed his vigil in a chair close to the sofa instead of the one he had previously occupied. 

Hours later, the storm still raged, the pitter-patter of rain now mingled with the sharp pinging of hail. Noting Mrs Thursday's rigid shoulders and eerily blank eyes, Jakes wondered how much longer she would hold out, when the door opened and the surgeon stepped in, followed closely by a woman who could only be the Matron. Trying to read the expressionless face of the man making his way towards the sofa, Jakes found his heart lodged firmly in his throat. He knew he should move away, give Mrs. Thursday some privacy; but his limbs seemed locked. At least until the surgeon smiled and started to speak. Coming to his senses in a rush, he retreated to his original, more distant chair, and waited.

It transpired that the hospital would permit Mrs Thursday to stay at her husband's bedside for as long as she wanted until he was well enough for rules around regular visiting hours. And it was obvious she wished to stay, but was worrying about Joan and Sam. Jakes returned to the sofa and crouched down before her.

"Ma'am, please stay here with him. I will drive Joan and Sam - see them safely home. And if there is someone you want them to stay with for a bit, I will get them there."

Shaking Joan awake, Mrs Thursday let her know that she and Sam could visit their dad the next day, then allowed the Matron to shepherd her deeper into the hospital. Jakes applied himself to waking Sam, then drove the two bewildered youngsters home through the gusting wind and slick roads, promising to come and get them if there was the slightest need.  

Three hours later, he dragged himself out of bed, trusting cold water applied to his face and hot coffee poured down his throat to wake him up sufficiently for work. Carefully navigating through the continuing rain and wind, he found himself at Cowley General with no clear recollection of how he got there. Shameless use of his warrant card at the front desk brought him to the right room. But at the door, doubts crept in. Until he heard the unmistakable tones of his governor - gruff and weak, but indubitably his. 

Knocking, he stuck his head around the door, immeasurably relieved to see Thursday's eyes open and a semblance of colour returning to his skin. Following her husband's eyes, Mrs Thursday turned around, then walked up to him. Pulling Jakes into a hug, she patted his cheek with a tremulous smile that said more than any speech, then returned his overcoat. Not wanting to intrude any further, Jakes saluted his governor and left.

Returning to the car with the folded coat still draped over his arm, he realised he didn't need its warmth after all. For the clouds were parting, the storm finally abating.