#until after leaving his family. just a fun fact about him
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cartoonsinthemorning · 2 days ago
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So I absolutely love all your thoughts and ideas about a fem Stan, but what about a fem Ford? I feel like that could also be a really fun dynamic. Stan trying to be the man and protecting fem!Ford from bullies, but is really just entirely wrapped around Fords fingers. And then! The jealousy could come into play in other ways! Like Stan starts dating someone and Ford is pissed about it so she leaves a lipstick mark on his collar or subtly sprays him with perfumes so that Stans partner thinks he was cheating and leaves him. And the obsessionnn. Imagine her stealing Stan’s shirts and sleeping in them just because they smell like him. Or staring at him while he sleeps and sketching him in her personal diary (though let’s be real, canon Ford did that too lol.) Anyways, I also like the idea of all of these pent up feeling finally coming out and her just riding Stan until he can’t think straight and her being like “that’s right, you’ll never have it this good with anyone else.” Idk. Thoughts?
Hello new friend! Thank you for enjoying my thoughts and ideas about fem!Stan, and for now kickstarting a conversation about fem!Ford too! I have a lot of thoughts. So many, in fact, that before moving to the shippy part, I need to focus on Ford alone, first. What would differ, was he born a girl. Quite a lot. I’m gonna be blunt. All things Ford had been oppressed by, in canon, would hit ten times harder, if he was a girl. Take academic ambitions, for example: I’m not saying that fem!Ford’s extraordinary intelligence wouldn’t had earned her praise. I just doubt she would had been encouraged to pursue higher education, and convert her studies into a career. A jewish WOMAN into STEM? Back then? I don’t think any of her teachers suggested she shoots for a prestigious university- why give her and her family unrealistic expectations? Ma and Pa would had been happy to have a smart, studious daughter, but I’m sure the idea to invest into her studies would had been up to debate, if not shot down immediately: to spend that type of money, when her likely future job would be either high school science teacher, or museum curator- would had been a pointless waste, to someone like Filbrick Pines.
To be honest, I think teen fem!Ford would had rather been encouraged, by her parents, to attend professional classes instead, something like a typewriting course- in order to find a stable secretary job, for example, after high school. Can you imagine, someone with Ford’s potential, being told “Well honey, at least you can put those extra fingers to a practical use, if you learn to type very fast”? Can you imagine how UTTERLY humiliated fem!Ford must had felt, all the time? Just like Ford, I think she’d be perfectly aware what a genius she is, and how drastically she’s been underestimated. And yet, she’d have to take in consideration the evidence: it doesn’t matter how great her mind is. They are right, there’s no place that would want her. The only person that would root for her, ever the dreamer, would be Stanley. He’d just take her hands, wipe her tears away, and promise, with naive, granitic certainty, that he will find a way to help her. His plans would range from completely unrealistic and cartoonish (“Ya could invent a machine that turns me into a brainiac, and once Pa send me to that tech uni ya like, I’ll sneak you in the classes, and you’ll take my place!”), to painfully sweet, albeit still unrealistic (“If Pa doesn’t want to support ya, I’ll take two or three jobs and pay for your studies and stuff myself!”). Stanley would look at his sister with bright eyes, and a huge optimistic grin, stating that she’s the smartest gal that ever existed, so there’s NO WAY she won’t become some posh scientist and prove everyone in Glass Shard Beach wrong. Every time Stanley would pull his stupid, naive, adoring Protector Knight acts, fem!Ford would feel so angry at herself for blushing, and for her heart-rate speeding up. Because it’s so intoxicating to be believed in, but she can’t afford to fall for Stanley’s overly-hopeful view of her condition, and she can’t afford to fall for him either. And this brings me to yet another point I wanted to make: self-esteem, and societal expectations.
If canon Ford’s hands got him bullied, and classified as freak- for a girl, they would had also been a mark of ugliness and considered remarkably un-feminine. I bet F., as a little girl, suffered a lot for having more in common with the grotesque antagonistic creatures of her favorite books, rather than the princess. And I’m sure EVERYONE around her didn’t fail to make her notice too. In subtle ways, sometimes. Like her mom suggesting she gets ear-rings, for her birthday, rather than bracelets, because it would be best not to concentrate more attention on those, right? Even if teen fem!Ford would act aloof, as if she didn’t care anymore, she’d be so self conscious about her large palms and extra fingers- so unfeminine and gross- she’d fantasize about chopping them off quite often. If Stanley hadn’t happily held her hand throughout their childhood, and “made fun” of how tiny her hands look in his large ones, as teenagers, maybe she would have, in a fit of self-hate. Thing is, fem!Ford would hold grudges and set secret standards in her head. It’s not like she thinks she’d never be able to get a boyfriend, despite her hands: she doesn’t look horrible, she’d be pretty, even, if she cared for her appearance like her moms begs her to do- but F. wouldn’t be able to suppress the burning conviction that “No other man but Stanley deserves me”. Other men may want her despite her hands, but Stanley was there since the beginning, telling her her hands make her more special than any other girl, like she was magical, like she belong in the fairy tales book she used to read aloud to him. What a stab to the heart, then, that she can’t have him. Not only because they are siblings, but because, just like you said, Stanley would date someone else. Carla, and some other stupid bitch that F. would need to get rid of, because they don’t deserve Stanley like she does neither! I love all the strategies you listed, to “mark her territory” and push other girls away!! I love toxic, jealous girlies!! I don’t condone Ford’s yanderism, but fem!Ford has my blessing. She can be a creep, as a treat. As for the part you mentioned, about fem!Ford snapping and riding Stan- YES I also agree, AND I’d like to add to it. In this AU, Stanley isn’t a misogynist in the classic sense: he doesn’t consider his sister an inferior at all. But
 he would not be immune to absorbing the Madonna-whore complex:Girls like Carla- he can fool around with, because they are that kind of girls. Promiscuous, slutty- bad girls. But his sister is different. She’s so virtuous, so smart- his pure, innocent little sister. Stanley would NEVER lay a finger on her. Yes, he may admit to himself he is in love with her, which is also horrible, but at least he would never, ever sexualize her. Cue Stanley playing dumb, or finding excuses to weasel away, whenever fem!Ford flirted with him, or even made clear advances- during the entire length of their teenage years. Until fem!Ford just. Decided she couldn’t take it anymore, stripped naked, slipped into Stan’s bed, and grinded and kissed his neck until he caved, lmao. I have even more thoughts, but it’s getting late, here. I must cut the yapping short, for now. Please, feel free to come chat again, and throw more ideas of your own at me! Thank you for this one, MMMMWAH, baci baci!
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vonkarma2 · 1 month ago
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oc tober day 10: personality. this is my character cirillo toscani, he used to be an actual stage actor, then was forced to become a nepotism baby businessman (part of one of the families that used to be so rich they ran like All trade in fantasy eurasia + north africa but they are all gradually losing power in recent years. ie the past several centuries), but he got fired from that too so now he is just a regular liar. though he gradually obtained more values over time due to a genuinely compassionate heart, he has spent his entire life being manipulated and guilt tripped by others, still being pretty spineless in the present day. he's also a social chameleon who can blend into any group and displays completely different personalities depending on context, which is why I drew him here as an actor waiting for his cue
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Dumping the start of the tags here cause tumblr has a tag limit of 30 :/ sorry op
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Okay hold on
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also more things I couldn't fit in. after cuddy bails out choreman chase gets assigned a bunch of clinic hours as Punishment TM. But mom-dad wilson (house is dad-mom) keeps him company till house gets angsty and comes to bail him out pick him up.
More I couldn't fit in at the end so I dumped here outta order:
wilson teahces the ducklings to paint since obvi house passed down his musical talents
rich kid chase got assigned clarinet at age 6. he's ok but has 0 heart. house jokingly points him towards a lyre in a music shop and he takes to it instantly. house go to tease him (baby angel lookin-) but chase looks so overjoyed and he says something like "look just like David played for Saul" so he melts on the spot (and convinces wilson to by him a kinnor so he doesn't know its his idea. he sings like a screeching alterboy tho)
I think cameron can sing but she's quiet and stumbles so she refuses to get formal training. she's tear rendering on a cello tho. surprisingly she can dj like all hell too. she had a wild college life before her 1st husband
foreman can sing smooth as silk. but he can't play an instrument to save his life (no patient for it). his dancing though? stage worthy. can be convinced to show off after a couple drinks.
Obsessed with the whole vibes of early season one of House. The ducklings have the energy of dysfunctional siblings along with their insane Vicodin-addict father. Wilson isn’t shown to have an office yet so he just lingers at House’s side while constantly and giving him fuck-me eyes. Wilson will just sit in on diagnoses and give his advice like he doesn’t have any responsibilities in the world. When the team needs to (illegally) shrink a patient’s tumor so it’s small enough to operate on, Wilson just says “alright” and does it along with Cameron. Chase does a silly American accent to fool a patient’s mother and it WORKS. Foreman is new and already despises everyone. House comments on how fuckable Wilson looks when Wilson is simply wearing a green tie and nice shoes. An old woman says that House has the same bedroom eyes as Ashton Kutcher. At one point the team, House, Wilson, and Cuddy all gather together in the small lab room to discuss a patient and are all basically brushing shoulders. Wilson reads a love poem out loud in the middle of the hospital to House. House eats tomato sauce that the team suspected was killing the patient. Wilson ditches his wife on Christmas Eve to go hang out with House and it shows a montage of them laughing and eating take-out. Cuddy greets House and Wilson by saying “hi, boys” like they’re kids. Foreman and Cameron are tasked to search a patient’s home and Foreman eats the ham he found in their fridge because he was hungry. The first scene with House shows him and Wilson walking down the hallway literally brushing hands and shoulders despite the hallway being huge. One of the first things Wilson does is lie to House. Wilson asks House — who rarely ever takes cases unless he finds them really interesting — to take a case and House just takes it. When asked why it was so easy, House just looks at Wilson with a smirk and says “you know why” and then they both smile at each other. This is all in the span of the first eight episodes.
#cameron watches the met gala with wilson and they make a tradition of judging the Shit outfits together (they both still suck at shopping)!#they still go shopping. but for silly obscure mugs! they make a death match outta it! foreman introduces them to ebay and decimates them!#it gets so bad house inlists amber to take them (wilson + cameron) shopping. somehow he and chase end up tagging along#chase and amber actually slay the house down. they are effective and vicious at shopping.#think crazy rich aunt who shows up once a month for a shopping spree therapy ses. and bad bitchin life advice. then you never see her again#later that night chase and foreman go out drinking. they have a bro moment get robbed and some how they're the ones who end up in jail#(probably for drunkenly disorder)#they get their phone call and chase is like noooo i cant tell mom and dad theylll be sooo disappointed in me :( (house is not)#foreman is like i gotchu bro and calls up cuddy at like 5 am. she brings rachel with her cause she cant be left alone yet#(its fine tho she was already up. kids r just Like That) she shows up eyebrow raised like 'Boys'.#foreman the lil shit points at chase straight face and says it was all his idea. his fault. tried to stop him but nooo he wouldnt listen 🙄#and since foreman is (canonically) cuddy's favourite she believes him.#thats how foreman gets brotherly revenge for chase always throwin the rest of the team under the bus and bein a lil snitch (affectionate)#chase regrets not calling cameron and facing her moral wrath for all of 5 mins. then they get to cuddys car#and chase lights up like a stage 4 cancer patient in a ct scan. cause rachel is in the car. and rachel ADORES foreman. finds him facinating#he's her new teddy. she asks him every question under the sun + leaves him covered in Child Stickiness. chase thinks this is an Opportunity#but plot twist foreman is great with kids. he listens and answers and gives fun neuro facts. rach makes the 😼 face kids make till shes 13.#she gets in trouble @school for diagnosing kids w/ stuff (mostly true) but her teacher is so confused about this kids family she just 👋#foreman always makes time for Rachel between cases holidays etc. and bring your kid to work day is right after her birthday.#so she goes every year spends the day in the teams or wilson's office. sitting in foremans lap until she just kicks him off and steals it.#also she has a height chart in foreman's Dark Shadowy Corner that she updates every year and everybody must Write A Note every year#on the flip side she hits chameron with the double 'why are you both blonde. sad.' and they both die of humiliation.#everyone thinks rachel'll take after foreman when she shows interest in medicine. she does. in a way. she goes into psychology :)#when she announces this (either in the clinic or in an ambulance over some guy who collapsed) house (who with wilson + cuddy coparent rach)#has what'll become known as The Great House Swoon of 2026 when rachel hits 18 yes i did math. he's fine tho. what's the logic behind this?#what season is it in? shhh no :) as a gift 4 college wilson gives rachel the dime she swallowed as a baby gold plated on a chain cause well#house md#gay dads hilson#h/w/c#the og ducklings
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gay-dorito-dust · 8 months ago
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Hello! Can I request smt with Luocha, Dan Heng, Argenti and Boothill? (Separate, and dw if u don’t write for boothill ^^)
You’re dating them and randomly call them husband just to see their reaction. You just say it so casually too during a convo with maybe a friend or a family member
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Argenti: ‘Argenti might as well be my husband at this point.’ You said to your friend after retelling a story regarding yourself and Argenti.
‘Awww! I wish Royland was more like Argenti.’ Your friend groaned, glaring daggers at the back of their boyfriend’s head.
Argenti visibly perked up at this, his eyes and smile were practically glowing. Did he hear you right, you consider him as a potential Husband? The gods have answered his prayers and quelled any worries that he might’ve had beforehand. For Argenti fully intends to be your husband one day and until then will commit himself to proving to you why he would make an excellent husband.
The moment he met you, to the moment you begun dating, all Argenti could think of was what it would be like being your devoted husband, your soul partner for the rest of your lives. No one else will do for Argenti but you, and he’s so loyal and extremely devoted to being your partner that the thought of looking at anyone else was so blasphemous; so much so that he’d rather hand you his eyes on a gold platter then ever be tempted by any other.
Argenti has had many dreams about your domestic life as a happily married couple, a happily married couple who were very much still in their honeymoon phase, but when he’s your husband that honeymoon phase would never fade away and die. He would make every day feel just as unique and special as the last few.
He might as well have ‘y/n’s husband’ as his name instead of Argenti because of how much he would use it when introducing himself to anyone new.
Needless to say by the end of the month to the day you and Argenti were officially married and more happy than ever.
Luocha: ‘Luocha would make an amazing husband, don’t you agree?’ You asked your friend, eyeing your boyfriend across the room for his reaction.
‘I thought Luocha was already your husband.’ Your friend asked, genuinely confused.
the moment Luocha hears his name being spoken he doesn’t think much of it, but when it was in the same sentence of as the word husband, that well and truly caught his attention. However it doesn’t take him long to realise what you were doing, but once he realised what was going on it was already too late, as the reaction you pulled out of him was very much a genuine one.
Neither of you had talked about it but according to your friend, you must’ve came across as to others a married couple anyways. So much so that even if you were to ever make it a reality nothing much would change at all for anyone other then himself and you; Yet that didn’t change the fact that the seed was planted and has taken ahold inside of Luocha’s mind as he walked towards you and your friend, placing a hand to the small of your back as he politely greeted your friend, acting none the wiser.
Well your friend might not pick up the hidden cues that told you that he knew, but you did, you could pick up his cues as easily as breathing which makes attempts at teasing one another all the more fun and interesting; Luocha could read you like the back of his hand and you were only starting to get the hang of reading him.
So the look he gives you may not seem like much to other people but to you, it was him telling you that he knew what you were doing, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him in victory because he took the bait you had put in place for him. You didn’t need to hear him to know that the first thing he’d ask once you took your leave would be:
‘I don’t think it’s wise of you to tease your husband. Do you?’
Boothill: ‘you and Boothill? Now that I didn’t see coming.’ Your friend joked as if you hadn’t openly said the most outrageous, thirsty shit about your now boyfriend.
‘Watch it because sooner or later he’ll become my husband.’ You joked back as you and your fiend shared a laugh.
Boothill flashes his sharp teeth in a wicked smirk upon hearing you call him your husband.
Oh now you’ve done it. He’s not going to let you live down the fact that you had called him your husband. He refuses to because he wants to see how you’d react to it. So he’ll make his presence know by confidently striding up to you and resting his hand on your waist, squeezing it, before smashing his sharp teeth once more but this time in a Cheshire grin.
‘Husband?’ He’d ask. ‘Have I secretly been promoted from being your boyfriend without my knowledge? I’m honoured sweetheart, but warn a fella next time before you go and pull this sort of stunt off. Oh wait,’ he pauses before continuing. ‘There’s not going to be a next time because you ain’t gonna be getting rid of me anytime soon. You’re stuck with me forever sugar.’ He cackles as he shamelessly swats you on the ass -hard- for good measure.
Yeah your plan kind of back fired on you because now your the one with the extremely flustered face, and now an sore ass that’ll become a bruise on top of that.
Boothill loved the idea of you belonging to him and only him and vice versa. He’s a possessive prick who’ll gladly put a bullet of two between the eyes of any bastard stupid enough to look at you for longer than a second.
He’s not one to share his treasure and never will be. You’re his now unto forever. Also he’d probably jokingly call himself your husband whenever you meet new people along your journey, and or scaring suitors off by screaming that you/him were married. (You very much weren’t but it works in keeping creeps away, so that’s a bonus.)
He plays on it so much that it’s an inside joke between the two of you and the two of you alone.
Dan Heng: ‘my husband Dan Heng, is just outside getting fresh air, he’s not fond of overcrowded social gatherings.’ You explained to your parents who shared a look of understanding.
Dan Heng, who had finally came back into the house, overheard this conversation and immediately his face burst into flames as his palms became sweaty all of a sudden and his breath hitched in his throat.
Husband?
Him?
Is that why he’s been invited for your family vacations with your parents, grandparents and relatives with their spouses of their own? All because they thought he was your husband? Dan Heng thought he was going to faint then and there from how many times he’s mentioned himself as your husband.
You’ve been together for a while now, but the fact that you were calling him your husband had him feeling some type of way that went beyond comprehension. He likes the idea of being your husband and has had a couple of shameless dreams where you very much were married and had a small family of your own, living a peaceful and loving life together and growing old together, still very much in love. However he always seemed to be at a loss for words when wondering whether in an alternate reality his dreams were your lived reality.
Dan Heng has so many thoughts on being your husband, one of them being that he’d be grateful in being chosen to be your life partner, while the other had still yet to find the words to voice his desire in being your husband aloud without being overcome by his own emotions. So until then he’ll have to suffer you freely calling him your husband in the presence of your parents, not that he’s complaining but he’d rather not be asked why his face still went so red when being called your husband, especially after so long of being assumedly married by your parents.
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gatorbites-imagines · 1 month ago
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Kinktober day 23
Ryomen Sukuna + Power Bottom
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True form Sukuna my beloved. I want him so bad. Had a lot of fun writing this, I miss Sukuna so much. Gojo clan reader, cuz hehe. Uh, mentions of cannibalism in this, cuz its Sukuna. Takes place during the Heian era.
2024 kinktober masterlist
It was difficult to breathe, feeling the sheer weight that was Sukuna pressing down on you. Or maybe it was the fact that one of his four hands was wrapped around your neck, his hand so big he couldn’t even fit the entire thing around your fragile neck.
Your arms were pinned above your head, pulled taught just enough to ache but not break, another of his hands easily holding your wrists with just his thumb and pointer finger. Your chest shuddered as Sukuna ground his hips down on you again, pulling a whimper of overstimulation out of you around the fingers he had inside your mouth.
It was hard to keep track of where his four hands went at all times. You knew one was choking you, one was trying to bruise the back of your throat, and a third was holding your arms. But, where was the last one?
A muffled yowl forced its way out your chest as you felt a sudden pinch of pain in your ballsack, tear filled eyes shooting open to look up at Sukuna as if begging him for an explanation. His grin was feral, like it always was when he wanted to “use his favourite toy”. It brought him some kind of thrill to have someone from the Gojo clan under his bulk, bending but not breaking under his strength, and wrung dry until you couldn’t feel your legs.
“What? My ass not good enough for you? why are you thinking about something else Brat” he snarled, the one arm you hadn’t kept track of moving behind him, followed by a cruel squeeze of your sensitive sack. You couldn’t apologize or explain yourself, nor did you want too, since you knew Sukuna loved to see you cry. His face might be stuck in a sneer, but the mouth on his stomach was smirking and licking at your abdomen, showing his true emotions.
You wanted to shake your head, you were here, you just couldn’t help but float off somewhere else after Sukuna had been riding you all night. He always got extra excited after slaughtering sorcerers, you had an inkling he must have killed some of your former clan members with how hard hed ridden you.
For the most part you didn’t even understand why he liked you enough to keep you alive. You were nothing like your clan. You didn’t inherit any of the clans known abilities, and you were even the result of one of the higher ranked women spreading her legs for a no name sorcerer with no clan, leaving you with a bloodline that left you near indestructible.
Maybe it was the fact that you had successfully killed one of your younger cousins, one who had been born with the six eyes, out of nothing but hate for your clan and jealousy. Maybe it was the fact that you had fled to his territory, carrying that younger cousin’s corpse like some sick trophy. Or maybe, it was because you had offered him the corpse, knowing it would anger your clan more than anything else you could have done.
It wouldn’t have been strange for him to have killed you right then and there. But instead, Sukuna had grinned big and feral, with the same glint in his eyes he got when he was about to wipe out a village of innocent non-sorcerers. The mouth on his stomach had licked its lips, and at the time you had imagined it was because of the priced corpse you had given him. When in reality, it was the sight of you, with that dark look in your eyes, covered from head to toe in the blood of your so-called family.
There hadn’t been much to live for, there never was, so swearing your loyalty to Sukuna didn’t mean much to you. Uraume had been quite suspicious of you for a while, until you had proven yourself enough for him. Sukuna had simply been entertained, sending you on trips to kill more of your clansmen or allies of your clan, just to see how far you would go.
The first time he decided that you would be more than just a simple tool had been out of your understanding. You were a sorcerer, but you had never been trained to the same level as those around you, which meant you didn’t notice the flicker of cursed energy unfurling inside you.
It was familiar to Sukuna, and enough to make him salivate. He had been human once, and he knew what to look for when it came to someone turning into a curse. The hate you had festered for your clan and all the abuse they put you through had put you on the right path, and you starting to eat human flesh to please him only watered the seed you had always carried.
You had been stunned at the time as Sukuna invited you to join him in his personal bath, but who were you to turn your lord down. You had seen Sukuna naked multiple times before, having seen him strip down from his hunts and killings, you had even helped Uraume in scrubbing him down, but this was different.
It was even more shocking for you when he shortly told you to wash him, the curse sitting back with his thighs splayed apart and his arms resting behind him outside of the pool of water. You couldn’t truly say no, and you really didn’t want too either, so the choice was easy. You ended up dropping the sponge though, when Sukuna rose out of the water, just to bend over the edge of the natural spring, as he told you to use your mouth to clean him with one of his hands pulling himself open.
From then it was like a fountain had opened. Sukuna had many men and women passing through his chambers, most sacrifices or those that thought they could curry favour with the king of curses, but none of them ever left alive, instead ending up as meat stuck between his teeth.
But you, you survived, even if you felt like he had drained the very life out of your cock with his hungry mouths and ass. If you thought the mouth on his face was lethal, then you hadn’t expected just how skilled the mouth on his stomach was.
Sukuna regularly enjoyed just pressed down on top of you, the mouth on his stomach licking and sucking until you were sobbing from overstimulation. That was never the end of it, of course. He wouldn’t be the king of curses if it was. Instead, Sukuna used cursed energy to get you hard again, just so he could ride you.
A sharp pain in your taint forced you back to the present again, a warbled keen passing your lips as tears ran down your face, what had to be your tenth orgasm of the night rolling through you. your toes curled against the floor, kicking uselessly under Sukunas muscular body.
You heard him tsk above you, his rocking hips coming to a stop on top of your own, his plush muscular ass pressing against your bruised hips and thighs. “Hey, Brat” he grunted, pulling his fingers from your mouth to pat at your tear-stained cheek, strings of spit still hanging from his fingers to your tongue.
Even without his clawed fingers inside his mouth, it still wants impossible to speak. Your tongue felt too thick and heavy, useless and limp and impossible to curl into letters to form words. It was hard to even see his face from how blurry your vision was, a pleasant ache running through your body. You may be half Gojo and near indestructible, but you truly were nothing against someone as powerful as Sukuna.
He gave a huff above you as you turn your head, nuzzling against his palm like an affectionate puppy, which was as close as you could get to express your feelings right now. Sukuna sighed out a longer breath, his hands releasing you, allowing you to take a deep shuddering breath, your arms staying above your head as you felt too weak to move them.
“Guess I can’t expect more out of you” he grumbled, sounding almost annoyed but there was an undercurrent of something softer and warmer. The ache of overstimulation shot through you body as Sukuna rose off you, your poor abused cock falling limp against your stomach. “Oh, shut up, it’s not so bad” the curse rumbled, sounding closer to a purr than his usual growl.
The mouth on his stomach licked its lips hungrily at the sight of your dick, clearly wanting to lick up all the fluids still covering it, or the many streaks of cum, blood, tears and what other bodily fluids covering your body. The thought of that large tongue running over you made you shudder again, part of you yearning, another part wanting to shy away.
“Come here” the curse huffed, picking you up with ease, your body limp in his hold as his two bottom arms held you against his torso. The world felt like it was running together around you, your legs still felt limp and useless, continuous shudders running through your body as you melted against him.
It sounded like Sukuna had called for Uraume, but you couldn’t be sure, as even your hearing felt muffled. Maybe you really had cum more than ten times, you normally didn’t float this far away with just that.
One of Sukunas free hands ran through your sweaty hair, letting you arch into it as he carried you towards his personal bath. You were the only toy who entertained him and that he couldn’t break, so he had to take care of you. that was it, no other reason. The king of curses couldn’t care about anybody, but Sukuna did hate you less than everyone else.
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lovemomhatepolice · 7 months ago
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jude bellingham nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Oh, Jude is very adhesive after sex. He likes to cuddle with you until you both fall asleep. He places gentle kisses on your head, shoulders and arms, in fact wherever he can. He always talks to you for a long time, whether everything was okay, how you feel, if you need anything
. Well, Jude is a great guy
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Jude is well aware that he is damn handsome. And not since he started being famous, oh no, Jude was already aware of that before. However, what he likes most about himself is his face, I think. He really likes the fact that he is similar with his family, which is so important to him, and he likes his looks. He is very fond of his dark brown eyes and his lips, which, according to him, have the perfect shape (to kiss you!!). As far as you are concerned, I think Jude is definitely an ass man. Of course, he loves your breasts, but your ass is definitely something Jude always looks past when he sees you. He loves to squeeze it, kiss it, everything, really. He always has his hands on her when you're somewhere together, and he's not ashamed to show it. Unfortunately, on the contrary, sometimes you have to correct him so he doesn't get caught up. And besides, he loves your whole face. He thinks everything matches perfectly - your nose size, eye color and lip shape, ay, this boy is drowning.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Jude Bellingham looks like a total creampie fan. I think he repeatedly stopped his seed at your entrance to watch it mix with your juices and slowly leave your body. But I also think he's too delicate to let his cum linger on your face, which is why he's not a fan of it. Even if you asked, there's no chance he'll let himself cum in your face
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) I think he likes it when you take the initiative. He often does a lot on his own, but the sight of you having fun with him in a way that no one else has ever done before, god. Jude is already on his knees and begging for more
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Nah, Jude is not very experienced. Well, after all, he's only 21 years old and hasn't scored any major ones on his relationship record. Therefore, everything you experience together is quite new to him. It was with you that he lost his virginity and began to discover what he likes and what he doesn't quite like But nevertheless he is a fast learner, he has become so skilled that if you met him for the first time, you would not be able to say that he is a fresher in these matters
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Jude likes to have you on top. Really, that's why the cowgirl position is just right for him. He likes you to take the initiative, however, alone from below he can also do a lot, especially since compared to him, you are in his hands like a feather. Another option is standing up - as I mentioned before, Jude is a fan of sex in the shower, so the standing option had to be practiced to perfection to make both of you comfortable and perfect
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) It depends on the moment. Jude is hardly a person who is against any jokes in bed or giggles, on the contrary, it even happens to him often. However, when your sex is heavily geared towards romance and the heat rising around your bodies, he rather tries to be serious and committed to the situation
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I think Jude is not completely shaved, but it is trimmed so that it is neat and not too much. He has dark curly hair, so I'm betting he has that all over his body too, so it might be hard to eliminate it. As for you, I think similarly. Either completely shaved or trimmed so that everything is neat and not too much.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Bellingham can be truly romantic. He may not look like it, but he loves to plan your entire evening. First take you out for an expensive dinner with wine, then prepare you a joint bath with petals of your favorite flowers, followed by the intense sex you've both been waiting for all day. And then long conversations in bed and gentle touches...
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) This often happens to him - mainly due to the fact that you often don't see each other through his constant trips to matches and life in other countries. He's not averse to pornographic movies, but since you've been together, he tends not to watch them. You prefer to connect together on the webcam and experience it from a distance, or he copes by simply thinking about the fact that you could be you next to him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Honestly, I can't find any sensible kink to match Jude. He does not seem to be a person who is drawn in any particular direction. Maybe a creampie? Hm, I think he could watch with fascination as your shared juices of fulfillment come out of you
. Oh, and combined it with breeding kink? Well, what? He's young, but he can definitely see you with a pregnant belly in your future home together in Madrid
L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Shower. Jude Bellingham shouts shower. Or possibly a bathtub, but definitely something on the toilet. I honestly don't know why, but it's what I associate with so damn much. Sex after the game? In the toilet. Sex with romantic candles and rose petals? In the bathtub. Sex without any occasion? In the shower. Well, don't say no. Jude definitely looks like a man who loves to take a bath together with you, and the opportunity to get close is even better
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) After the match. I don't know why. It's just that after a match, Jude is always, and I mean always, somehow more horny, and that's when you turn him on the most. Whether it's won or lost, Jude just needs to have his girlfriend in his arms after it Or the other option that turns him on is you in mini dresses. Well begging, the boy is already on his knees in front of you (or rather, behind you too)
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A/N: next part will be here soon! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open!
please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago
Note
Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago đŸ˜« so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day đŸ©” :)
For The Weak And Weary
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PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?
WORDCOUNT: 6.2k
WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.
A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was
damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.
And this was entirely new to you.
He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 
But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 
You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.
But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.
If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.
“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 
It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 
He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you
how could eyes be so dead?
“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or
or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 
Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 
Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”
“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”
The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”
“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”
“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 
A stiff silence falls.
“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.
“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.
You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 
Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 
You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 
He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami
all gone
at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 
When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 
And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 
So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 
But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 
Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 
Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 
In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 
A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.
Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 
How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was
was everyone dead?
Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 
All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.
How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.
You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 
If only Keegan could see you now.
Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.
Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen
is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 
“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 
You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 
“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 
Everything would be done if another city fell.  
Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 
Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go
and you would never let him down. 
You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 
Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 
Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.
Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.
“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 
Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.
Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...
When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 
—
It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 
On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.
Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 
Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 
“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 
The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would
you knew it, everyone did. 
Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.
“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”
The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 
“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 
On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 
Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.
And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 
With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 
You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 
I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 
While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 
It rang a devastating bell.
Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 
Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.
The only love of your life. 
“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 
Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.
The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 
Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 
“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 
He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 
“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 
You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.
It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.
“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 
Your face gains heat. 
“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 
“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”
“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.
He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 
“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 
Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 
Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 
At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to
something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.
So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 
“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 
“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 
The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 
“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 
You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 
Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.
“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 
Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 
You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.
Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 
More than one-thousand miles.
But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 
Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 
Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 
Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.
—
The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 
Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 
But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 
But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.
You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 
In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 
Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 
The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 
“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 
You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 
Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 
“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 
Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.
“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 
“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 
You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 
“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”
“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 
Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 
“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 
“Alright then
don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”
“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 
“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 
Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 
“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 
“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 
“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 
Yelling is on the other side.
“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 
“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

Keegan?
“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.
“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”
“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 
Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 
Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 
Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still
his.
Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 
The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 
Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 
“...Sweetheart?”
His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.
You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.
The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 
“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 
He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was
incomprehensible. 
“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.
Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 
“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”
“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 
His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 
“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 
Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 
The man forces a weak huff. 
“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 
You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.
Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 
Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 
He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 
“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 
You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.
“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 
You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 
The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.
“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”
“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”
You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.
Not to leave again anytime soon. 
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TAGS:
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hanafubukki · 1 year ago
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Can be seen as a part 2 to this fic (after some time has passed that is) or can be read as a stand-alone.
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“Leave me alone human!”
“For someone who is chained to the ground and gravely injured, you’re pretty loud.”
“I’ll rip you from limb to limb.”
“Why don’t you get better first before we get there hmm?”
General Lilia Vanrouge screeched at you in the fae language, some of which you knew were curses. Ah yes, you can’t wait to make fun of your Lilia when you get back to your time. His cursing while playing video games had you easily recognizing some of them now.
Luckily for you and your ears, the General wore himself out. The wounds from the iron and those of the battles weakened him.
It didn’t help that he also had a fever as a result. You were put in this cell to help him recover. Humpty Dumpty- well, King Henrik, implied it was the least you could do.
A random human that was pick up by his men, who was using valuable resources that could go to his soldiers instead. Never mind the fact that you helped treat said soldiers and gather said resources.
The Knight of Dawn had clenched his fist, about to speak up on your behalf. But you simply grabbed his hand and shook your head. It wasn’t worth it. King Henrik would just make his life harder for talking back, and you didn’t want that. The Knight of Dawn dealt with enough, you didn’t want to add onto his troubles.

But you also didn’t realize that meant staying locked up in this cell with General Lilia Vanrouge either.
The General wasn’t exactly happy when he first met you, and you couldn’t blame him. You just weren’t used to the open hatred from familiar eyes you would see everyday. Eyes that were always friendly to you, now burned you.
The first time you tried to provide him treatment, he had fought back until his wounds weakened him to an unconscious state. You had silently treated him then. Not a soul a witness to your tears.
As the weeks passed, the General gradually stopped fighting back, probably due to his weakening state
it didn’t shut his mouth though funny enough.
You were only let out for a change of clothes, a bath, a proper meal, and a bed to sleep in every few days. Even then, King Henrik made it seem as if that was too good for you.
You later found out it was due to the Knight of Dawn’s request that you were even allowed such accommodations. Your heart ached at the idea of what he must have gone through to get you this, as you knew King Henrik did not treat him well.
You breathed softly, you wished you could return home soon.
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You were dressing a wound on Lilia when you felt him stir.
“Melea
Le
B
”
You took a wet cloth and wiped his forehead.
He must be dreaming about his family.
You knew all would be well in the future, but that didn’t mean current events didn’t affect you.
It hurt you to see so many struggle in a useless war, due to greed from one man.
Lilia clutched at his stomach, his sharp claw like nails reopening the wounds you had painstakingly bandaged.
You quickly grabbed his hands and sucked in a breath of pain. His nails dug into your skin, drawing blood. His grip could break your bones to tiny, incomprehensible pieces, but you held on.
You knew he wanted to be free and return home, to protect his loved ones. You were determined to heal him for that very reason.
“Damn it Lilia Vanrouge! You will get through this! You have so much to look forward to. So many people who love you! Now, stop being a prick and let me go so I can treat you!”
Surprisingly, he let you go. You ignored your bleeding, aching hands in order to reseal his wound.
“
will you be in that future?”
You froze, turning and looking into feverish eyes.
“Yes.”
General Lilia Vanrouge fell into a deep sleep for the next 10 days.
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You were returning to Lilia’s cell when a knife was held to your neck.
“Human, where is the fae you captured?”
Ah, it seems rescue finally arrived for Lilia. It took them long enough.
You looked up into hardened, familiar eyes. Baul Zigvolt would have been a sight for sore eyes if he didn’t, you know, have a knife to your throat.
“I would gladly show you if you take that knife away.”
“You-”
“Besides, I was heading right in that direction. If you don’t want to be caught, you better hurry.”
You continued walking, listening to Baul grumble about frustrating humans. You couldn’t help the slight smile on your face as you remembered similar words said by his grandson.
You led Baul quickly and quietly to the cell that practically became a second home to you. No one in sight. You had noticed, unlike the men that the Knight of Dawn commanded, the men directly under King Henrik were
well, just like him: sleazy and lazy.
They let their guards down thinking The Right General of the Fae was too weak and couldn’t take any of them on. They even implied you were nothing but a sacrificial lamb should said Fae get angry, but of course, they would rescue you at a price.
It took you all you could not to spit in their faces or smash their heads on the wall. The self defense lessons Silver and Sebek taught you provided security that you would forever be grateful for.
It was due to this fatal thinking that Baul was able to infiltrate the base, as the men went to seek entertainment elsewhere.
When you arrived, you opened the cell door quietly so as to not hurt sensitive ears. The sun was high enough for the cell to be well lit.
You heard Baul hiss in anger before rushing to his general’s side. Lilia didn’t seem surprised to see him, telling you how he must have always known rescue would come for him.
“General!”
“Careful! You’ll-”
Baul recoiled from the burns the iron chains struck at him.
“I tried to warn you.” You shook your head. You sat next to Lilia, taking his hand in yours. From the corner of your eye, you could see Baul tense but Lilia motioned for him to remain calm.
You picked at the lock. Another thing to be thankful for, your lock picking skills, which you learned quickly from days you were locked outside of Ramshackle Dorm because Grim forgot the key or the door just wouldn’t open.
“You got it in one go this time.”
“I told you I had surprises up my sleeves. I just needed the right tools.”
“Hmm, so you say.”
Baul looked at both of you as if you both at grown two heads each. Lilia noticed his look and waved towards his feet. Where chains that should have been locked were open.
“Any longer, Baul, and I would have rescued myself.”
Baul stammered before apologizing. You turned away to hide your smile.
Within moments, the atmosphere changed. General Lilia Vanrouge had to escape and return to his men.
“Leave.”
“What?”
“You have to leave. You need to return to your troops."
Lilia clenched his jaw, looking at you. You couldn't return with him; you both knew that. It didn't stop him from trying, but you shook your head before he could even open his mouth.
"I can't go with you."
A human amongst the fae would not last long, at least not now. There was too much hatred.
You took the cuffs that had been his tormentor for so long and locked them around your hands. You chose to ignore the angry growl Lilia tried to hide at the sight of the cuffs now imprisoning you.
"I'll make it look like you escaped, now go."
"They'll hurt you."
You shook your head.
"The Knight of Dawn would never let that happen."
He knew you were right. The Knight of Dawn had visited several times, helping you treat his wounds and restrain him when the fever would have him lash out at you.
The Knight of Dawn had honor, as a fellow general and soldier, Lilia respected him for it. Lilia pulled one of his magic stones off his belt before offering it to you.
"Take this. Smash it to the ground if you need help, I'll find you."
You agreed and watched the two soldiers turn to leave. General Lilia Vanrouge hesitated before speaking, "You told me you would be in my future."
"I will be."
"You better keep that promise, YN."
"I will."
General Lilia Vanrouge and Baul Zigvolt vanished from your sight.
I'll see you both soon.
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Part 3 (each part takes place after some time has passed) or can be read as a stand-alone.
Author’s Notes: I can’t believe this became a 1.5k fic, the way this bat fae drives me crazy. 😂💞đŸŒș
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soleilapproves · 1 month ago
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This is part 2 of the arranged marriage AU with Nanami where the two of you struggle with intimacy.
Part 3
You both learn to cuddle in this one. This is a bit long so grab some snacks and a warm blanket.
Masterlist
-‱-
After that fateful night of receiving flowers from your husband (personally and not through his family for a proposal), you had start warming up to him. You found out that he enjoyed mundane things like reading, walking at the beach, and most of all, bread. He learned about a lot of your likes and dislikes too.
Gradually, you found that it was easier to make conversation with him while having dinner so the two of you started having all your meals together. You’d talk about your work and what unruly things your coworkers did to cross you and he’d add in his two cents about them being incompetent. The relationship started to feel more friendly. He was glad his wife was talking to him about something other than the weather!
He also had a new desk moved into his study so you could work alongside him rather than stay holed up in your room. Your desk was adjacent to his (so he could look up to stare at you whenever he wanted).
He started noticing all the little things about you, like the way you liked doing your hair, your favorite spot on the couch, what kind of music you’d hum while doing chores. He was slowly chipping away at the ice and was enjoying every minute of it.
To be loved is to be known. He didn’t know how to show you that he was becoming more and more interested in you without displaying physical touch or being afraid of saying something that you may not be comfortable with. So he’d buy you gifts and try to spend time with you as much as possible. His gifts would be simple yet meaningful, like a record player for your room so you could listen to all your favorite tunes and pilates equipment for your home gym because you had been talking about how you wanted to work out but without leaving the house.
Your heart wasn’t letting you rest either. You started making him lunch for work and would write random notes along with it. It could be a fun fact or a simple motivational message. He would always thank you for them (and save them in a little box he has in his office). Sometimes he’d ask you more about the fact and how you learned about it.
Everything felt stable. It was like living with a best friend.
Until one day, you both were sitting next to each other while watching a horror movie. Separate blankets of course, but you were close enough for your knees to touch while sitting criss cross. A particularly scary scene came up and you jumped, holding on to the sleeve of Nanami’s sweater. He was alarmed, not because you screamed in fear but because you held on to him for comfort! “Can I hold your bicep? I’m sorry, this is just a little too scary.”
He could simply nod. No words or thoughts could form when he felt the warmth of your body against his arm. Your breath would occasionally land on his chest from how you were unintentionally leaning on him and it was driving him insane. Normally things like this would give him sensory overload but with you? Gosh, was it a good feeling. He always thought that that men who bragged about being protective were strange and were trying to prove themselves for no reason but they weren’t wrong. Knowing that you felt safe with him made him feel like a true man. Like he could run into the sunset and scream his lungs out.
After the movie was over you were still shaken up. “Is everything alright?” He looked down at you. You still had his arm in your grip. “Um, no, I’m still a little freaked out from the movie which is weird cause I’m a grown adult. Why am I scared of such movies anyway?” You smack your hand on your forehead. “It’s alright. It was a little too scary than what I’m used to as well.” He then paused, as if, he wanted to say something but he couldn’t. You looked up at him expectantly. “Since you’re scared, would you
 like to sleep in my room? And I’m saying this in the most respectful way possible.” He sheepishly smiled as he asked.
Sleep? In the same bed as Nanami? Scratch that, sleep in the same bed as your HUSBAND? Of course, especially when he has been so sweet with flowers, gifts, and even comforting you through a strange movie. “Yes, I’d like that very much.” You whispered. You were afraid that if you spoke any louder you’d be breaking your bubble of comfort with him. “Then, I’ll make the necessary preparations.” He immediately gets up to go straighten up his room (and switch on his diffuser).
By necessary preparations, you didn’t know that he meant getting you a separate blanket and having a divider of pillows between the two of you. This was the opposite of what you wanted. You were still scared and needed some sort of physical touch to be reassured that you weren’t going to be harmed.
“Nanami, are you awake?” You whispered into the dimly lit room. The moonlight through the window acted as a natural night lamp. “I’m up. Do you need anything?” He responded swiftly. “No, everything is great except for one thing.” You turn towards him and remove the pillow between your heads so can make eye contact. “When you suggested sleeping in the same bed I thought we’d be holding hands because I’m scared.”
“Oh.” Was all Nanami could muster up. You were tense. Did you ask for too much? Maybe you should’ve asked his permission before requesting for it. Consent is key. But all your thoughts are silenced when Nanami simply grabs your hand and pulls you close. “Th-Thanks.” Your heart was racing a mile a minute. Nothing really happened after that though. Pure silence engulfed the room again, except for the occasional rustling of the sheets while you moved around.
“Y/N?” Your husband broke the silence. You hummed in response. “Do you know how to cuddle?” What an odd request, not unwelcome but definitely strange as Nanami never really initiated any sort of physical touch with you. It was mostly you either accidentally touching him or squeezing his bicep before work. You were too scared to admit that you had never been in a relationship before. What would he think? He’s a handsome man, so there’s no way he had never been in a relationship before. Maybe he never cuddled with his exes. He did tell you that he used to be very particular about his personal space.
“Yeah, I do.” You said, your knowledge from reading romance novels was finally being used. “Can you teach me? You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” But you turned to your side so you could properly face him. You let go of his hand, missing the warmth provided by them. “I’ll teach you an easy one first. It’s called spooning. Since you’re a beginner, I’ll let you be the little spoon and I’ll be the bigger spoon.” Nanami snorted at your description. But obliged. “Alright, what does the little spoon do?”
You then instructed him to turn, making his back face you and then you wrapped your arms around him and leaned your forehead against his back. “So this is what spooning is. I think I’d much rather prefer being the big spoon. I want to be able to protect you from that ghost in the movie.” You giggle at his words and oblige. When his arms wrap around you, it feels as if everything has fallen into place. The world is in order and you both don’t need anyone else but each other.
Nanami is in ultimate peace with you in his arms. The warmth given to him by your body being pressed against him is a feeling like no other. It felt right. Like you two were meant to be all along. His heart raced at the thought of other cuddling positions. However, a sense of jealousy rose in him as he thought about who you might’ve experienced this with first. Alas, he can still make new memories with you so he comforts himself to sleep.
-‱-
Reader and Nanami will kiss in the next one I PROMISE 😭
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coco-loco-nut · 8 months ago
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Miss Americana
Pairing: Lando Norris x American!Reader
Summary: Moments with Lando and his silly, American, girlfriend
TW: AMERICA! RAHH🩅
a/n: i wrote this super quick bc the ideas were bombarding me at work and it is not proofread. it’s also silly and stupid as an apology for my last oneshot which seemed to break y’all.
requests are open! masterlist part two
—————————————————
Lando didn’t mind you were American, in fact, that might be why he loved you. You poked fun at his britishness, even trying to copy his accent. It’s almost like a joke with you two.
“Baby, where are you?” Lando whines from his gaming chair, needing attention, having texted you a minute ago asking you for cuddles.
“I’m declaring my independence!” You yell back, your voice coming from outside. He pauses his game and trudges towards your voice. The two of you are spending time in your American residence, near Miami. He spots you near the pool, holding something out.
“Baby, what are you doing?” He spots your camera recording.
“Happy December 16th!” You grin, dropping a box of tea into the pool. Lando’s brows furrow, thinking back to the book he read about the Revolutionary War. Needing to have some sort of reference for your jokes, he bought a book with the basics to read on the flights to races.
“Oh
 I get it. Babe, we aren’t even IN Boston,” Lando says after a minute, and after you start laughing, he does too. Lando quickly grabs your phone and pushes you in the water too.
“Rude,” you huff, grabbing the tea box and climbing out of the pool. If it weren’t for your grin, Lando would be running away. You grab your phone and Logan pops out from behind the bushes as Lando’s phone dings.
“Wait, I thought you were recording,” Lando says, his eyes narrowing at Logan.
“Nope,” you pop the p and walk inside, the video quickly going viral and spreading around the drivers group chats. Logan makes his quick escape, leaving Lando to wonder why he agreed to associate with Americans.
———
“GO GO GO GO! YES! TOUCHDOWN!” You yell, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Lando surprised you with a trip to your alma mater’s biggest football game of the season. He asked Logan for help with the surprise, but the Floridian didn’t mention, well, how much of a cult the school was.
“Logan said it was going to be cold, but not this cold,” Lando grumbles, taking a cute pic of you cheering.
“Babe, he has terrible taste in schools, why would you take his advice? Also, this is the northeast, it’s obviously going to be way colder than Austin will be next week,” You snort before joining in on a chant. Lando was only slightly regretting choosing seats right beside the student section, however, he could get behind the drinking. Especially tailgating. When you drug him out of his nice warm bed to hang outside the stadium at 9am with your old college friends, he was skeptical. All it took was one freshly grilled meal and a beer to turn that around. He is planning on creating an American tailgate for the race next week in Austin.
“American universities are... something else,” Lando smiles at you. Seeing as you are only one year removed from college, you had plans for the weekend.
“Just wait until we go to the bars later. Oh! And the frat party tomorrow, it’s family weekend and my cousin is getting us in,” you smile back at him. It was indeed a long, drunk, weekend, but Lando couldn’t help but admit that he would be more than happy to come back for more games throughout the year.
———
Austin was something else the next weekend. You and Logan were quick to jump on board with Lando’s idea for a tailgate, and you all gathered at the Airbnb that you rented the night before the race, right after qualifying. The team’s socials loved the idea as well as the Formula One social media team, so you paid for nothing as the drivers and friends gathered at the Airbnb for your and Logan’s tailgate. You made sure there were multiple coolers full of alcohol, soda, and water while Logan manned the grill. You wore a NFL football jersey while Logan repped a Miami Dolphins jersey.
“Why are those two arguing,” Max asks Lando, observing you and Logan fight about whose team is better.
“Either college football or pro football,”
“American football, mate,” George says, standing on the other side of Max.
“All I’m saying is that you have TERRIBLE taste in teams!” You huff in Logan’s direction. He rolls his eyes, turning his focus to the grill as you grab a beer. Lando, who is sporting your alma mater’s football jersey, walks over to the two of you.
“She’s not wrong, Logan,” Lando chuckles as the blonde boy throws his arms up in the air in frustration. Honestly, the only thing that can top the bickering between the both of you is when you pull out the jell-o shots and people start grabbing food.
Half an hour later, you turn on the projector to the screen, a Disney logo behind you. You take position in front of the screen, remote in hand as a microphone. The crowd turns their attention to you. Lando’s lips twitch up in amusement.
“I just got three things to say. God bless our troops. God bless America. AND GENTLEMEN. START YOUR ENGINES!” You yell as you hit play on the remote.
“Okay, focus. Speed. I. Am. Speed.” The voice says over the screen. You and Logan decided to culture everyone, making the end of the tailgate partly a movie night. Eventually, everyone finds a seat in the lawn chairs scattered in front of the screen. Lando grabs your hand and kisses the back of it when you sit down.
“I love you, y/n,” he smiles softly as he nurses his beer.
“Love you more, Lan, but not as much as America,” you chuckle, teasing him. He playfully rolls his eyes, knowing you are jesting.
“Are you always so
 American?” Daniel laughs as he sits in the open chair beside you.
“Shut up before she drunkenly sings the national anthem,” Lando hisses, cringing at the time he mistakenly took you to a karaoke pub in London on July 4th. Honestly, he should’ve known better.
“I hate you all,”
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radiance1 · 1 year ago
Text
Nasty Burger explosion happens, leaving Danny homeless and friendless, he gets adopted by Vlad but Vlad, in all of his ambition to get Danny as his son and even telling said boy such thing multiple times.
Genuinely doesn't know what to do.
He never, well, thought this far, and certainly never in the circumstances that made this possible.
He tries a few parenting techniques (that he's read from multiple books to get the perfect child) and nothing sticks both because of Danny's stubbornness and pettiness.
So, Vlad tries from a... different angle.
He doesn't need a perfect son, he realized, he just wanted one, and now that he's gotten one, he realizes that Danny would be the one to succeed Vladco in the off-chance (which is low as hell already) that Vlad someone gets taken out of commission.
So what does he do?
He shows Danny how fun the business world can be when you're on top of it. One of the giants, an Emperor among kings.
Slowly sinking your fangs into an enemy, backing them into a corner bit by bit, until before they realized it, they can do nothing but be a defenseless little grub. Watching them crumble to bits in their own panic, and by their own hand making their situation worse and worse until, with one final blow, nothing is left of them.
Either by their own hand, or yours.
Danny took to it like a fish to water and, dare Vlad say, they even drew closer throughout it. Not quite father and son, yet not enemies either.
He thinks the term would be... frenemies?
Yes, on the best of days allies and on every other day frenemies.
===
Danny doesn't... hate, Vlad. Yet he doesn't love him either, he thinks he likes Vlad at the very least. When the man backed off from trying to get him to be his son and replace his father.
Which was still a dick move considering his father had just died, but he's since managed to get over it. (The replacing his dad move, not his dad's death.)
Then Vlad started treating his less as a son and more of a... roommate, that he teaches business too. He will admit, he liked the change, gave him more room to grieve the loss of his family, and then, a while after that, Vlad showed him what made the business world... 'fun.'
And he was right, it is fun.
It was a great distraction from the pain of losing his family, and the fear that he would become like his dark future that he managed to avoid. He's not destroying the world, he's just destroying rival companies.
Way better in his opinion.
Of course, there are other 'Emperor among kings' out there, would be weird if there weren't honestly. To name a few, being Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne.
In other words, a guy who hates an overpowered alien superhero and a himbo playboy.
Honestly, he doesn't really care about Lex Luthor, he's more of Vlad's chess mate rather than his. Who he does care for, however, is on Timothy Drake-Wayne.
Two years older than him, that is true, yet a fun chess mate all the same. Does he care for the boy's father and siblings? No, not really, not at all actually.
He's tried to corner the boy before (Most of which he planned out with his own chess set that Vlad got him, Vlad has one as well in fact), mostly on a whim really. To test the waters, so to speak. But, Timothy Drake succeeded his expectations and, well, more.
He tries more than once, gaining an inch, Timothy finds a way to gain two more. Corner him, and Drake finds a way out and even reserving the tides.
He's never able to completely corner Timothy Drake-Wayne, and Timothy Drake-Wayne has never been able to completely corner him, which is honestly what makes this so fun.
Vlad was right, the business world can be fun.
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cheeseceli · 4 months ago
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Your nephew is jealous of him
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Pairing: ot7 BTS × Gn! reader (individually)
Genre: fluff, reactions, a bit of crack
Request: when they try to get close to the reader, their toddler niece/nephew won't let them. The baby is really possessive of y/n and doesn't like anyone touching them.
Warnings: some of them are almost fighting with the kids lmao; that's it.
A/n: this was actually so fun lmao | daily click
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Jin
‌oh so this is his first trial to prove himself as boyfriend material, he sees
‌he's ready
‌will try to befriend your niece
‌is actually trying to enchant her and be like "hey I'm nice too :D"
‌and honestly it's working?
‌of course it is, bro is doing everything the little girl asks of him 😭
‌but his goal is not to steal you from your niece
‌is to steal your niece from you
‌being liked by the family ✔
having a chance of being invited on next hangouts ✔
impressing you by showing he's good with kids ✔
‌he's so winning
Suga
‌he's honestly a bit confused
‌because why can't he be even three meters near you??
‌at first he thought the kid wanted to play with you or just missed you
‌but then he noticed the problem was him 💀
‌your nephew just low-key hates him
‌and actually, Yoongi ain't doing anything to change his mind
‌he's just chilling as far from you as possible
‌just so the kid doesn't make a scene
‌and when you laugh at him and try to get closer saying "it's okay"
‌he's like "please don't come any closer your nephew will attack me-"
‌kid 1, suga 0
J-hope
‌he thought it was funny
‌cute even
‌it was good to know kids liked you
‌that could only mean you were a very good person right?
‌well, now Hobi is the one who's almost becoming a bad person 💀
‌he can't handle your niece trying to take him away from you every. single. time
‌like hey, I like them too??
‌he's trying to either bribe her or just straight up calling her mother to take her away
‌"that's not mature" he doesn't care that much atp
‌he just wants a second with you without a kid screaming at him
Namjoon
‌he truly is trying to be the bigger person
‌he knows he is the adult and your nephew is just a little kid
‌but he is about to start beef with this child
‌he tried his best, but now he's just stressing😭
‌he really thought he could use this opportunity to get closer to your family but that's just too much
‌tries to leave you and the kid for a while and then he tries small talk with the rest of your family members
‌but if he comes back after a hour or two and your nephew is still being possessive
‌he's about to cling to you so the kid either makes a scene and is taken by his parents or just notice that he can't win
‌namjoon 1, kid 0
Jimin
‌he gives up
‌the kid can have whatever he wants, Jimin is not fighting him😭
‌in the beginning he tried to like talk with your nephew
‌negotiate even
‌but then the kid just starts screaming and kicking him when he tries to get close to you and he's like "yeah, no"
‌he can endure being away from you for a while
‌kid 1, jimin 0
Taehyung
‌i'm honestly surprised this kid likes you more than him because damn
‌he truly has his charms when it comes to kids
‌and I think your nephew would like him quite a lot honestly
‌that is until he decides to come close to you
‌and at first taehyung is just a little confused
‌but then he's offended
‌like "I thought we were friends?!"
‌is honestly more upset with the fact the child suddenly doesn't care about him when you're near than the fact he can't be around you
Jungkook
‌oh now this is a competition
‌"no, my niece is only three years old"
‌he doesn't care.
‌if she didn't wanna compete then she shouldn't have started it
‌he is trying to distract her like "oh look, an airplane"
‌and then he's running to you the moment she is busy with something else
‌and actually gets like đŸ€šđŸ˜ŠđŸ˜” when he sees he lost for a child
‌actually relieved when the evening is over and you guys are going back home
‌ but if there's a next time, bro will make a whole war strategy and will be prepared
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Masterlist | you'll probably like: you have a lot of plushies
Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!
Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @lelewright1234
Dividers by @peachesboard | images 1 , 2 and 3
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springtyme · 5 months ago
Note
đŸȘ Hi Sagie! I looove your baby fever fics with 141 and könig! I you have any hcs for them, like will they have more babies in the future? (I’m especially in love with the soap ones, you made the family scenario feel so real❀)
I’m so happy to hear that you like those fics, they are some of my favourites I’ve written, and I’m especially happy to hear that you like the johnny one, cause I have actually thought about writing some for that specific version of him because I liked writing them so much. These are just some quick, random thoughts about how I think the future could look like for the guys and reader in the different scenarios. I might change it if I decide to write more about them in the future, though. But I had so much fun writing this, so thank you so much for the ask, dear anon! ♡
The fics this is based on: part one & part two
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Ghost ♡
I don’t actually think that you and Simon will have more children after your daughter. She wasn’t planned, but she is so loved and cherished by both of you, and he is so extremely happy and grateful that it happened, being a family was something Simon never thought he would be allowed to experience, and he had always secretly wished for it, but he also has a lot of insecurities and anxieties about being a father. He wants to give your little girl all that he never had growing up. You and your daughter are absolutely everything to him, and the two of you have filled the hole that had been gnawing at his heart for so, so long. He doesn’t need more, he is complete now. One kid, one fur baby, and having found the love of his life is all he needs to be happy and content. I also think that he is also very aware about how demanding his job is and the fact that he often is gone and has to leave for weeks at a time, leaving you back home alone so only having one kid to look after when he is not there to help,  makes things more manageable for you and I think that is something he would value highly, not wanting to leave you overwhelmed and stretched thin. And he is so, so grateful for you and all that you do for your family.
Price ♡
Again, I don’t think you and John are going to have more kids, just like Simon he is very aware of the demands of his job, despite the decision of retiring from fieldwork after you had your son, he is still often away on base and works long hours, plus he also isn’t as young as he has been anymore. He values the time he gets to spend with you and your son, and he loves the family dynamic you all have. He loves being present and active in your son’s life, and he wants to make sure he can give him all the love and attention he deserves. You and John have built a beautiful life together, and he is so grateful for everything you’ve given him, and he makes sure you’re always taking care of. John values quality time with you and your boy extremely highly, he never misses a single football game, school event, or milestone, and he cherishes every moment he gets to spend with the two of you.   
Gaz ♡
So, you and Kyle will stay in your flat for the first three years of your son’s life until you move to something bigger, after finding out that you are expecting your second child. It is a lovely, little semi-detached house, with garden to three sides and here you welcome your second baby, a little girl this time. Kyle is absolutely over the moon with the idea of expanding your little family, and he can’t wait to give your son a sister to look out for. Kyle absolutely loves being a father and is so grateful for the life you have built together. He is so excited for this next chapter in your lives, it is something he has been excited for almost since he first met you. Kyle is a very hands-on dad, always eager to help out with the kids and make sure you have some time for yourself and he makes a big deal out of having quality time with both kids and making sure they both feel loved and cherished. He is so proud and grateful for the family you have created together. 
 Soap ♡
Okay, it all started out with a comment about how you and Johnny had to balance out all the boys in his family and you did. Johnny becomes the ultimate girl dad. You end up with three girls who are around three years apart from each other. He loves being surrounded by his girls and is so grateful for the special bond he has with each of them. He is always there to support and protect them, and he cherishes every moment he gets to spend with them. His family absolutely adores you all, and he is so thankful for the love and happiness you have brought into his life. (Your oldest daughter’s middle name is Teresa after Johnny’s mother, but when you had your second girl there was no doubt between you and Johnny about what hers was going to be; Maighread.) 
König ♡
So, I kind of see two scenarios for this one. 
The pregnancy with the twins was pretty hard on poor mama, having to carry an absolute unit of a man's children and all, so I could kind of see you not having more after that. It was always your plan to have 2-3 kids, so when the twins turned out to be a boy and a girl it kind of just seemed perfect and complete with a family of four. 
But I could also see the twins being two boys though. Two chunky, happy babies who turn into a pair of cheeky, energetic toddlers, running around together, causing chaos and laughter wherever they go. And even though they are fraternal, they look a lot alike, both a spitting image of their father, despite having inherited your eyes, but their faces are still all König, from the way they scrunch their nose to the dimples on their cheeks when they smile. They are a handful and keep you on your toes, but they are also the sweetest and most loving little boys. It is a few months before the boy’s seventh birthday when you and König start to think about maybe expanding your family again. And it’s only a few weeks after their birthday that you find out that you are pregnant again. The pregnancy is much easier this time around, König still creating a chunk of a kid, but this time you’re only having one. And this time it is a little girl who instantly steals the hearts of her father and big brothers. The twins dote on her, constantly showering her with love and attention, always looking out for her and making sure she is safe. And König is absolutely wrapped around her tiny finger, and truly a sight for sore eyes to see the giant man doting over his little princess.    
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writingsbychlo · 1 year ago
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SWEET LIKE SUGAR | (05)
summary; azriel is away on a mission, and you get an unexpected visitor. when he returns, you also get an unexpected surprise.
word count; 5988
notes; fun fact!! I got confused about which part I was on because I actually forgot all about the events of this part and started writing for part six before realising!! also the way this is months late... my bad, y’all. 
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Slumping a little further in the plush seat, your eyes scanned across the page before you for the fourth time. Finally, you’d settled on a book, after procrastinating it all morning. Then, you’d put it off with the excuse of cooking breakfast and eating, making a cup of tea
 and then another. 
The house felt too big, too quiet, too light without shadows crawling in every corner. 
Azriel had been gone since yesterday morning, your first overnight alone without him as he did Cauldron knew what, Cauldron knows where, out in the world. He’d left early yesterday morning while you had still been asleep, waking you with a hand shaking your shoulder gently before the sun had even risen. Dressed in those same dark leathers, strapped head-to-toe with weapons, he’d mumbled about some sudden work from Rhys, and that explanation, along with a delicate kiss on your forehead, had been all you’d gotten. 
It had half felt like some kind of odd dream, until you’d woken up, and the house had been far too still without his presence. 
He was due back tonight, and you were holding onto that, attempting to focus back on your book. Three hours. Only forty pages in. 
You’d hardly made it two more pages, before there were footsteps on the creaky porch, your heart rate shooting through the roof, and a knock. A knock. Azriel wouldn't knock on his own front door. Matter of fact, Azriel would have likely just winnowed right to the door, not walked up the porch. 
On light steps, hoping whoever was on the other side couldn't hear you, you peeked up through the hole in the door, noting Elain standing on the other side. You barely knew her, recognising her only from the first dinner you’d shared with Azriel’s family, heart leaping into your throat at the sight of her. 
Clicking the door open after only a second or two of hesitation, she offered a beaming smile when your eyes met. 
“Hello, Elain.”
“You remember my name!” Her smile somehow only stretched wider, and it was like the sun itself seemed to get brighter as she did. You wanted to scoff. Did it just do that, or was Lucien out there somewhere, glowing every time she smiled? 
“Uh
 Azriel isn’t here.”
“I know.” She waved a hand, as though that was supposed to be obvious in some way, following it up with a giggle. You wracked your brain, stumbling over every piece of information Azriel had given you on them all over the last couple of weeks. Seer. Elain was a seer. Had she seen Azriel leave and chosen this moment to approach you? “I’m here to see you.”
Apparently so. “Why?”
“I was thinking we could go for a walk in the public gardens together.”
“Why?” The word spilt out again, and she laughed, cocking her head to the side. “I’m, sorry, I don’t— I don’t mean to sound so rude. This situation is just unexpected, that’s all.”
“I know. I would have come sooner, but I was waiting for Azriel to be gone because he’s been playing defence about who gets to see you and when. He growled at Rhysand last week for asking how things were going.” Your stomach flipped at that, flopping in on itself and you rubbed a hand over your ribs slowly, hoping to steady the beating of your heart. “I’m not here for Rhysand, just to be clear. I’m not here for anyone, not even Az. I’m here for me, because I’d like to get to know you.”
“You want to get to know me?”
“Of course. You’re going to be around for a while—”
“I am?” She merely hummed, brows raising a little as humour shone in those doe-eyes, and your cheeks heated. “Seer, right. Of course. Do you want to come in for lunch or something, then?”
“I was thinking we could go for a picnic.” Nudging one delicately slippered foot out from under the hem of her dress, she nudged a picnic basket at her feet with her toes, and you shifted nervously from foot to foot. “It’s a nice day, and the Velaris Gardens are just beautiful. I volunteer sometimes, and I must say, the flowers this year are breathtaking.”
“Alright,” She was like a puppy, someone you just couldn't say no to when she stared at you with those big brown eyes, only seeming to light up more when you finally agreed. Leaving her standing on the porch for no more than a few minutes, you marked the page in your book, swapped out your loungewear for a summer dress and some sandals, and grabbed your keys. 
She had been right, the two of you were barely more than a few steps down the sidewalks before the golden rays of the sun truly began to soak into your skin, warming you. It was a lovely day. Hopefully, the sun was shining on Azriel too, wherever he was.
The streets of Velaris were crowded as the pair of you ventured closer to the busier parts of the city, your workplace was packed full, the tables outside almost overflowing, and one of the waitresses you’d come to know waved as you passed by, flustered and carrying a tray of drinks. 
Children were playing in the streets, darting from one side to another. Adults were wandering, lovers arm in arms, and friends gossiping. Here you were, wandering alongside Elain, who was humming a tune gently to herself under her breath. Only once you had entered the gardens, the kind old man at the front gate greeting Elain with a smile and a hug, did she speak up once again. 
Her tune came to an end as the two of you were walking down the main pathway, weeping willows curtaining on either side, birds chirping overhead and fluttering between branches in the trees. 
“I'm happy Azriel has you, you know.”
“You might be the only one.” Your words were bitter, harsh, and you wanted to bite them back in, still not entirely sure where you stood with Elain or to what extent you could trust her, but she only laughed again. “Apologies, that was
”
“Don’t worry.” That casual hand wave again, the metal bracelets on her wrist clinking as she did. One held a sun, another with a moon, a third gold band with an orange gem, and a fourth with a metal tag on a leather band, an engraving too small to make out. “Although, it’s not true. Nesta talks very fondly of you, and while Feyre might not speak up as often, she does not approve of the way Rhysand treats you.”
“Nesta is great. I shouldn’t have said that. And of course, I was out of turn to imply anything at all about the High Lord and Lady. I do—”
“Please, none of those formalities.” She stopped suddenly at the end of the pathway, aiming to turn neither left nor right, but instead stepping out onto the large field before you both, wildflowers cropping up, wandering across the soft ground and leaving you to trail through the grass behind her. “Rhysand can be a stubborn arse when he chooses to be, and Cassian is merely being bull-headed. Mor could be a swaying hand if she chose to, but she’s actively staying out of it, to let things play out on their own. Amren is
 well, Amren.”
She had managed to coax a laugh from you, despite your wary mood, and she seemed to stand a little taller at the triumph. Finally finding a spot she liked and placing the basket down, Elain opened it up to pull out a blanket, flapping it out into the light breeze and laying it on the ground slowly. She sat on it, patting the space beside her for you to sit on, and opening the basket only when you had. 
“I brought several sandwiches, because I wasn’t sure which you’d enjoy.” She began to unstack each labelled and wrapped meal portion, laying them out around you both until the blanket was covered in food and treats, a wine glass in your hand as Elain filled it with bubbling grape juice. “I try not to drink as much these days.”
It seemed the two of you had moved on from whatever conversation you’d been having, and no matter how much you wanted to circle back around to it, it felt rude to do so when she was clearly leading the chat. She was rubbing a hand over her stomach with contemplation, and you swirled the bubbly drink in your glass. “Are you
 are you trying for a baby?”
Her hair glinted in the sun as she tipped her head back, eyes closed and smiling at the sky. “We’re thinking about it. Nothing concrete yet, but, I know Lucien desires children. I do too. We aren’t putting any kind of timeframes on anything, but we’re getting into some good habits and lifestyle changes now.”
“I wish you both the best of luck,” 
She only hummed, again, a contemplative sound that seemed so wrapped up in mysterious and knowledge that it made your skin itch. To distract yourself, you took a sip of your drink, eyes scanning over the food options before you as she sighed and pulled herself back from whatever thoughts she had lost herself in. “My happiness with my mate now is so much due to Azriel.”
It was like a ball, bouncing back and forth between the walls, getting faster and faster as she whipped from the topic of Azriel to anything else, like she couldn't decide between acknowledging the elephant in the room or ignoring it. 
“I’m happy he has you.”
“So you’ve said.” You smirk, settling on a sandwich at last and unwrapping it. 
“There was a while when I thought I might be his happy ending, and he might be mine.” Your chewing slowed, and your focus fixed on her. You weren’t sure why she was saying these things, revealing things about his past or her own, whether it was some kind of game or not. She seemed to read all of this on your face, sitting up more fully to face you, legs crossing before her. “He never fought for me the same way he fights for you, though. Like he can’t help himself. What we had was hidden away and sneaking around in the dark. It was wrong for us both, I see that in hindsight, but with you, he doesn’t hide you. It’s like he wants the whole world to know you’re at his side.”
The food was like trying to swallow a mouthful of cottonwool, choking it down dry and wincing. “I don’t think what we have is the same. What you had must’ve been
 well, like a real relationship. You do understand what me and Az have is more like an agreement, right?”
“Are all relationships not just agreements to be together, monogamously?”
You sipped at your drink, buying time to find a reply as she tucked into her own food, surely knowing she’d won this round. “Relationships are different.”
“In what way?”
“In every way!” You said, and she still only managed to look mildly amused, waiting for you to go on. “Relationships shouldn’t start the way ours did, for the intent of mutual benefit and gain. They’re supposed to be about passion and feelings and connection.”
“And do you not have passion, or feelings, for Azriel? Is there no connection?”
“What we have is complicated.” You didn’t know how to define it at all, everything that was shifting and changing so thoroughly was enough to make your head spin, and her mumble only confirmed that she knew she had the upper hand here. “How did Azriel help you to find Lucien if you were
 together?”
“Oh, no, we were never together. We snuck around at night and shared heated looks across the dining room table. I wanted to choose my own path for once, not the one everyone was telling me I should be on. The one that led to Lucien. And Azriel, well, he just wanted someone. I wasn’t the right someone, I was just there.” That didn’t answer your question, not at all, but it seemed that if you were going to get the reply you wanted, it was in return for listening to the whole story. “We had stolen moments in dark corners, and Rhysand warned us off one another, put a stop to what likely would have ended in tragedy.”
“Seems like the High Lord is fond of telling Azriel who he can and cannot be with.”
“He had a sister once, you know.” The words struck cold, and you stiffened. Of course, you knew. Everyone in Prythian knew. Had heard of the tragedy before the first war, when the Lord of Night had lost his wife and daughter, leaving only the Prince who would soon take the throne. “She fell in love with someone who she shouldn’t have, someone who betrayed her in the end,”
“Should you be telling me this?”
“—and it broke him for so long. I had no idea about any of this until Feyre told me. He watched his sister get her heart broken before she lost her life, and watched his mate fall for Tamlin and get hurt. He watched Mor hide such an important part of herself and get hurt for centuries. He even watched Lucien pine for me while I was too blind to see him. He has watched love break and harm over the years, watched people abuse those feelings and use them for their own gain. He knows that need for touch more than anyone, and knows the price companionship can cost.”
“Elain,” The food was beginning to taste like ash, this was becoming more of a petition than a chat. “I understand that. I know he’s suffered too, I know he’s felt pain, and I’m sorry for that. But that doesn’t excuse him for his cruelty. It doesn’t excuse him for stopping Azriel from finding happiness. He cannot control everyone around him, no matter whether his intentions are good or not. Other people’s happiness is not his responsibility, and not his right. What, only mates are allowed to be together? Do you know how rare it is to find your mate? Azriel has waited five hundred years, he may never find his mate, but does that mean he should never be allowed to know happiness because Rhysand decrees it?”
She stared at you, lips pursed for a long moment, considering all that you had said. And then, instead of getting angry, or yelling, or defending them further, she smiled. She nodded her head and something passed over her face that you couldn't possibly decipher. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Azriel would have fought for me, if I had asked him to. I’m sure I could have put up a fuss about it, but when he was told to stop, he did. That rejection
”
“Led you to Lucien?”
“Gods, no. It made me so angry. Azriel just rolled over and showed his belly because Rhysand snarled. I was mad, beyond words!” Your laughter broke free, surprising you both, until you were laughing together amongst the flowers. “He would barely look at me, wouldn't talk to me at all if not for polite dinner conversation. I’d gone from someone he’d feel up in dark corners to acting like I had a disease!”
“That’s awful!”
“I know! So, I wanted out. I was so stifled. I managed to persuade Rhysand to send me to the Human Lands for a while, to track down some information. Except, of course, I couldn't go alone. I needed an escort, and who better than the Emissary to the Human Lands?”
“This was Lucien?”
“Mhm.” She rolled her eyes, slipping away into her memories, a smile forming on her face. “Gods, he drove me insane. He was there all the time when I’d just been pulled from the Cauldron, like a lost puppy. So full of adoration and love. I was expecting that, but that’s not the Lucien who showed up. The one who showed up was so
 nonchalant. Like the bond between us didn’t exist, we were friends, more like mere partners on a task. I even made a drunken move on him one night in a gross tavern far from The Wall, and he turned me down! Put me to bed and left a glass of water on the nightstand for me. Acted like it never happened in the morning.”
“Oh, Gods
” Your snicker bought you a mock glare from the flowery female beside you.
“I was even angrier, then. It was like nobody wanted me! So, when I returned, I gave Azriel a piece of my mind. And he let me yell at him for twenty minutes. And then awkwardly held me while I cried for another twenty.”
“Does this story have a happy ending? Well, I guess I know it does,” You offered her stomach a pointed look, “But when do we get there?”
“Fine, fine,” She rolled her own eyes now, “To keep it short, Azriel then offered to help me with Lucien. Managed to trick Lucien into going on our first date, a blind-date set-up, and wouldn't let him leave when he tried to. He then continued to help me sneak around with Lucien behind everybody’s backs, until we were ready to come out with it.”
“When was that?”
“Two weeks before we got married.” You fell to your back, laughter like light spilling from you at that, and she continued to share the details of everyone’s reactions through giggles of her own. “I’d seen all their responses, and I wanted to avoid them as long as possible! That was the last time I ignored my visions to try and put them off. What I see will happen, it's only a matter of time. I can’t avoid it.”
“That must suck for surprise parties and gifts.”
“Maybe, but it was pretty good to see you coming.” She smiled, laying herself down beside you and staring up at the sky overhead. “We will be good friends, you and I. I’ve seen that too.”
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You were preparing dinner when you finally heard Azriel arrive. The scuff of his boots on the porch, the rustle of his wings as he entered the house, and then—
Then the slam of the front door. So loud and violent that the house shook a little, trembling the trinkets in the hall that sat on the side unit. You tensed, hearing his loud huff of frustration. Shadows whipped and whirled through the house, a few even making it as far as you were in the kitchen, and you followed them, peeping around the threshold before they were all snapped back in a hurry to their owner. 
You saw his retreating back, stomping up the stairs of the house, tense lines and rigid muscles, disappearing in a dark cloud from sight. Another slam made you jump, one of the upstairs doors closing with a bang. 
Silence filled the house once again, far heavier and more tense than it previously had been, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth. 
It didn't feel like you were welcome, like perhaps this was a moment you shouldn't intrude on. But, was this not part of the reason that Azriel had brought you here in the first place? To comfort him, and be his support?
Minutes ticked by as you contemplated the matter, before deciding that at least checking in on him couldn't hurt. If he wanted alone time, he’d say that, and you’d happily give it to him. The idea of leaving him alone in his suffering created a phantom pain in your chest, spurring you up the stairs and on a search for him. 
He wasn’t hard to find, darkness flicking around the doorway of the office, idle shadows striking like dark lightning bolts in the air as you opened the door, only to find Azriel hunched over his desk, wings tense behind his body. 
“Hi, Az. It’s good to have you home.”
He only murmured, a vague noise, not even lifting his head from his work as you stood in the doorway. You paced a little further inside, standing by his desk, hoping to catch a glance of those pretty caramel eyes, but he kept his head down. His pen never stopped moving across the paper, his shadows never stopped their stormy swirling. 
“I’m going to start making dinner soon, if you want to come down?” He didn’t reply, just a grunt, and you gave up, despite the worry filling you from head to toe. “Alright, well, you know where to find me.”
With that, you left, a pulse of power following you from the room within as soon as you clicked the door shut, back pressed to the wood on the other side. With a couple of deep breaths, you steadied yourself. It was only a matter of time before something came up, everything had been going too smoothly, too perfectly to last. Azriel was bound to snap under all that pressure at some point, and if this was that snap, you could handle it. 
Setting a chicken off to roast only took a couple of minutes, basted and seasoned and into the oven, enough of a distraction to pull your thoughts away from the warrior upstairs. It was as you were chopping vegetables that your mind wandered back, the mind-numbing task of slicing peppers and carrots made it easy for your thoughts to trail back to Azriel.
Still, he had not emerged. Not for food, or water, or even some space from that office. 
Setting the table didn’t help to distract you either, laying down plates and cutlery and glasses, choosing a bottle of wine and setting it out to air, even going so far as to set down some candles, searching for matches to light them. The house was all but vibrating with power not, steady thumps that occasionally jostled the cutlery on the table with powerful bursts. 
Whatever had happened today had Azriel so riled up that his power was all but leaking out, siphons doing little to control the feelings welling inside him now. You’d never known the true strength of his power. Of course, you’d heard of the High Lord’s brothers, the spymaster and the warlord, the three champions of a lethal death-match among young soldiers, who’d come out bonded stronger than ever, with power to match. 
Never, though, did you expect to feel the power like this. Feel his emotions ricocheting off of every wall, bouncing through the foundations of the house. Suddenly, it dawned on you just how mighty the ranks of the Night Court truly were, a chill settling into your bones at the thought.
One bad mod, one temper tantrum, and the building could simply crumble to dust. Street lamps would flicker, and animals would scatter. Too many thoughts, too much and all of it became overwhelming as the house continued to tremble to the steady pattern of a heartbeat. 
Blowing out the candles as the flames flickered precariously once again, you put them away, not daring to risk them tipping over and creating a far worse problem. You knew the scars on Azriel’s hands, he’d told you the story behind them on one of the many nights the two of you had lay in bed, wrapped in one another’s arms, seeking comfort. 
Or perhaps, it had been during stolen moments in the cafĂ©, when Azriel would come to visit you, sitting and doing his work at one of the tables in the back. He’d take a break only when you’d bring him a fresh pot of tea and a pastry, sit across his lap and talk in hushed whispers during the quieter parts of your shifts before you had to get back to work. 
It could even have been one of your late-night walks, or early-morning strolls, while the streets of Velaris were quiet and mist-kissed. Your hands clasped together tightly, his wing shielding around you as you walked together, talking of everything and anything that came to mind. 
He’d told you quiet stories of his past, of his present, of his hopes for the future. All about little baby Nyx, Nesta and her journey to finding the Valkyries, what it had been like growing up in the camps, or all the best little villages and towns he’d visited on his worldly travels. 
Your heart had been doing crazy things, lately. Crazy, stupid things, like skipping a beat and speeding up and bursting with adoration for a man so new to your life. It did crazy things, like encourage you back up the stairs an hour later, to ignore the tremble in your hands or the wobble in your step, heart calling out to him. 
You’d tried to ignore the urge. To sit and read your book, until you’d read the same line over and over while not absorbing a single word, and giving up with a frustrated huff. You re-basted the chicken, and added the vegetables to cook, and even set off some potatoes to boil but all the while, as your body worked, your mind and heart lay with him. 
This time, you knocked as you entered, knuckles a soft rap on the door before you pushed it open. Magic thrummed through the air, calling you closer and pushing you away, and you found Azriel, still in the same uncomfortable position, working at his desk. His shoulders were locked and rigid, his head hung, hair messy from constant tangling, and you lifted a hand, brushing it slowly through his hair. 
“Azriel
”
He barely even acknowledged you, nothing more than a grunt tossed in your direction as you stood by his side, and a sigh broke free from you. His lips were turned down in a frown, dragging all of his pretty features into misery too, and you hated to see this side of him. Hooking your fingers under his chin, his writing came to a stop as you forced his head to turn, to look up at you. His eyes were dull, a spark of irritation and anger bursting through them as recognition and consciousness flashed back into his lifeless form. 
“Azriel.”
This time, a growl tore free, that frown becoming a snarl as he pulled back, gaze narrowing a little. “I’m fucking working. What do you want?”
You froze, staring at him, taking in the exhaustion under his eyes, the pain in his stance, the spinning thoughts you could practically see surrounding him, so much so it must be dizzying and painful. Dropping your hand back to your side, he only returned to work, not sparing you another thought as he chased to catch up with the ones already running him ragged in his head. 
Silently walking away, you left his door open, hurrying away from the scene and back to the kitchen. Taking the kettle in trembling hands and filling it up, you set that to boil too, a mug from the cupboard clacking as you set it down on the counter, throwing open the doors to the tea cupboard soon after. 
Your nervous fingers skimmed across the labels, searching the front of each one, and it was as you were holding two, undecided on which to choose— perhaps just brew them together?— that the air in the room shifted, and a pair of strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you back into a solid chest. 
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, face tucking into the crook of your neck, where he left a kiss to your skin. His hold tightened, squeezing you against his body as he slumped down into you. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Az.” You ran a hand along his forearm, banded around your body, feeling it loosen just a fraction as you squeezed. “I’m just so worried about you, I wanted to make you some tea to help, but I couldn't decide which one.”
At that, a whine slipped free from him, nuzzling deeper into your neck, another kiss, and another. Putting down the teas on the counter, you wiggled a little, managing to get him to loosen up just enough to turn in his arms. His forehead came to rest on your own, noses brushing, a sad frown on his lips as his eyes remained closed. 
“Az
”
“No more work. If I’m stressed to the point of snapping at you, then it’s too much. I’m sorry. You were just trying to help, and clearly, I needed the help.”
Looping your arms around his neck, he sighed, a happier sound as you scratched at the nape of his neck soothingly. “Stop apologising, Azriel. I appreciate it, but it’s unnecessary. I’m not angry at you, just concerned.”
“I like that you worry about me.” He whispered, deep voice running like honey as he bent enough to pick you up behind the backs of your legs, spinning you to place you onto the kitchen counter, and step comfortably between your thighs. “But you don’t deserve that kind of treatment. You deserve better. I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to let you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Az. I wouldn't be in this relationship if I was going to run. I can handle you, even when you’re not at your best.”
He only answered with a shaky laugh, hands smoothing up your thighs to sit on your hips, squeezing in a series of happy pulses. “We’re in a relationship?”
Elation was clear on his face, no denying it, at your choice of words, and you gave a little chuckle of your own, nodding against him as your noses came back to brushing together, heads resting on one another. Your conversation with Elain flickered through your mind once again, and you wondered if she had seen this, seen you give into her whims and silently admit she was right. If she’d seen this, you hope she picked up on your mental scowl, too. “Well, what would you call what we have?”
“I like ‘relationship’. I like it a lot, actually.”
Throwing your arms over his shoulders, they looped around his neck, and you pushed your face up a little closer to him. “We may not be conventional, Az, but I like what we have. I like our relationship. I think we’re perfect as we are.”
He didn’t need words to respond, not this time, not as his mouth sealed over your own in a gentle, tender kiss. The first kiss you’d ever shared, a timid one, his lips working slowly and cautiously over yours, giving you plenty of time to pull away. 
You didn’t want to, kissing him back with just as much tenderness and affection as he was showing you, pouring every feeling you had into it, to make sure he knew just how much you cared. Your heart was beating hard, fast, racing like a drum under your ribcage as you melted into his touch. One scarred hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing across your skin, in tandem with every stroke of his lips. 
You pulled back for breath, just to find yourself tangled back up in him, his tongue stroking across your lower lip, teasing the roof of your mouth as you opened up for him. A groan skittered across your tongue from him, a pant for breath, his hand slipping up under your shirt to sit on your bare waist as you tugged on the slight curls of his hair. 
When he pulled back, at last, your lips were swollen, your lungs burning in the best way possible, and your head was spinning so much you could barely focus. The world felt fuzzy at your touch, glowing and glittering as you stole a final kiss from his lips, his soft chuckle breaking it. 
“Am I still invited for dinner with you?”
“Yes. I’m making chicken and potatoes.” Your smile lasted only a second, before you were sitting upright. Time had melted away around you, disappearing into dusk outside beyond the windows, “Oh, no, the potatoes!”
Pushing him back and hopping down from the counter, he watched with a dazed, kiss-drunk expression as you rushed to the stove, taking off the pan lid and prodding at the potatoes with a fork. 
“I amend my earlier statement. We’re having chicken and mashed potatoes, because these have gone soft. Entirely your fault for distracting me.”
“I distracted you?” He mused, sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, tugging you back to kiss at your cheeks, trailing down toward your mouth. 
“You know you did.” His only response was a smile. Draining the potatoes was a challenge, what with Azriel plastered to your back like a new limb that served no purpose, and you had to elbow him off in order to finish the food. 
While he waited, he tinkered with the dining room table, pouring two glasses of wine and rearranging. When you turned, he’d dug out the candles you’d put away, lighting them with a match once again, and blushing as he laid them out. “I thought they’d be romantic.”
“I like them.” Your cheeks were equally as heated, smiling to yourself as you turned away to check the food. 
His distance didn’t last long, as you searched for a knife with which to carve the chicken, he was once again backing you into a counter, his mouth hungrily descending upon your own. Mutters of ‘waiting long enough’ silenced on your mouth as he dove into you, hands on your body once again, trying to tempt you up onto the counter. 
“Let me cook, you menace,”
“Just a few more,” Was his barter, and those few kisses passed more and more time, his lips like a high you had to chase, until only the desperate urge to breathe could pull you apart. “Gods, I love that. I love kissing you.”
“I can tell.”
He rolled his eyes, but his smirk stayed, unashamed of his newfound addiction. 
“We need to eat, you need food.”
“I have everything I need, right here.” He leaned in again, lips puckered, and you tipped your head his mouth finding the edge of your jaw, and he grunted unhappily at the action, but mouthed at your skin nonetheless.
“How about after dinner, we can go upstairs and do some self-care. I’ll show you all the fancy new creams and skincare I got. We can relax, and cuddle, and read.”
“And there will be more kisses?”
“There will most definitely be more kisses.” You promised, cupping his face and bringing him back for a final peck. 
“Then I think I can agree to those terms.” He stared, pulling back just enough to fully take you in. As the urgency in his expression died down with the promise that this affection was not a one-time deal, his face took on blissfulness instead. Running his knuckles across your cheek, his face softened even further as you leaned into his touch, cupping his hand and pressing kisses to his scarred fingers. “You
 You are my moon, do you know that? You light up even the darkest parts of life for me.”
His words were like whispered oaths, something too heavy for you to fully comprehend but burned into your mind regardless, and you gave him a sweet smile back. “You are my stars, Azriel.”
“Really?”
“Every last one. Glittering and perfect in the night, full of mystery and hopes and stories. You are my favourite part of the night sky.”
Your heads rested together, dinner temporarily forgotten just for another moment or so, to bask in the revelations of the evening. 
Today, 
today changed everything for the better.
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ew-selfish-art · 1 year ago
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Dp x dc AU where Dick adopts teenage Danny into his family with Kor’i and Mar’i
Mar’i had always wanted a sibling, all seven years of her life in fact!! Toys and play times with friends couldnt possibly compare to having a brother or a sister, and she knew this as a fact from some of her school mates.
So when her dad brings home a kid that was all cut up and bruised, and her mom patches him up because something about his “biology” was weird- Mar’i sees this as an opportunity in the making!
Danny is healing up slowly but surely in Nightwings house, and he feels like a total intrusion. He’s now seen their faces and it feels like so much trust has been placed in him with no way for him to repay it. So he’s moping a bit, hanging in his room reading a book based on his video game series when a small child walks in, her arms filled with board games and toys.
“Hello, will you be my big brother?” Is all she asks him with a straight face, her eyes incredibly serious for someone so small.
“Er, im just here until-“
“Want to play a game?” Mar’i changes the subject favoring a specific board game in her hands. Rule number one of negotiation is to never let them say no- her uncle Damian taught her that.
“
yeah, sure.” Danny accepts because honestly? He could at least repay Nightwing and Starfire by babysitting right? They play a few games and then dinner gets brought in and for once, Danny feels like he’s having a normal family meal.
Next time she comes into his room, he’s focused on healing one of his larger wounds from the power in his core- he’s floating and his eyes are green. Mar’i is ECSTATIC. He fits in PERFECTLY.
“WILL YOU PLEASE BE MY BIG BROTHER?!?” Mar’i persistently asks every single day. Danny laughs and smiles and pats her head.
Once he’s feeling better, he starts patrolling with Nightwing, just to pay him back. Not that he’s having fun bashing goons and getting solid hero advice for the first time in his life.
Then he goes to Tameran with Kor’i for a diplomatic mission (his royal ambdassadorship/ king titles tbd) to discuss the Infinite Realms and why they absolutely need to abandon their attempts to use ghost artifacts. Kor’i explains how proud she is of him as they fly home.
He gets invited to all their family outings now, and he is overwhelmed by how accepted he is. How much the Bats all seem to leave him space for boundaries but invite him to do things very much to his interests (they are detectives after all). Once its safe, Jazz comes every now and then from her Ivy League college to hang out with them all and spend time with Danny. She gives him the advice he needed to hear about accepting good things into his life and deserving happiness.
One day Mar’i has a bad day at school, and when Danny gets home from his own community college classes- he brings her into a big hug, makes her a cup of tea from her mom’s home planet and once she’s comforted and happy again he says “hey, what are big brothers for?”
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plussizefantasia · 5 months ago
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Don't Cry over Spilled Lemonade pt.2
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Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader
Word Count: ~2k
Warnings: A little bit of dread on the reader's part but mostly it's fluff and yearning, just the way I like it.
A/N: hahaha I finally finished it!!!! Thanks for all the love on part one it really made me so happy to see so many people liking the little story that I wrote half asleep <3
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Anthony wrestled with his thoughts for the rest of the evening. He hated himself deeply for hurting you and even more for not remembering it. Knowing himself though, he knew that his actions were probably fueled by a desire to leave the gathering and visit Siena, she had been his refuge in the years before and during Daphne’s debut. 
He would never forgive himself if the reason you would not ever stand to be in the same room with him was his naive infatuation with the opera singer. Especially given the fact that as soon as he met you all thoughts of her flew from his eyes and he never thought of her in that way again. Deep down he knew that his heart now belonged to you although that thought was much too terrifying to dwell on for more than a minute.
You on the other hand were reeling with the new information. You had vowed to hate Anthony Bridgerton until your dying day but his pleas for forgiveness had shaken your will. You still held a deep anger towards him, one that you didn’t think would go away any time soon. But it was becoming harder and harder for you to find the detestation in yours that had once been bubbling at the surface.
You didn't know what to expect from the Viscount anymore, you had always had a pretty clear picture of the man in your mind, and in one fell swoop he had shattered it like glass. Seeing him playing with his younger siblings in the park the day after your conversation in the hallway certainly didn’t help settle your mind.
If there was one thing you knew about Anthony Bridgerton it was that he loved his family. Sometimes he goes about it in the wrong way but you could tell that he does everything he does for them, even getting grass stains on his trousers because Hyancithy and Gregory are insistent that he plays tag with them in the great park.
It is their laughter that draws your attention first followed shortly by a sharp shout and even more giggles. You are fortunate enough to catch sight of the Viscount tripping and landing on his backside, his hands falling to the side of him and right into what looks to be some freshly planted flower beds. His head hangs and he takes a heaving sigh before pushing himself back up. You can’t help but laugh at the sight.
Anthony would be able to recognize your laugh anywhere, he hears it flowing through the halls of his home enough that it’s become ingrained in his mind. His head turns to where you are and your eyes meet. He is taken aback by the warmth he finds in them. How long has it been since you’ve looked at home with anything but detached coldness?
It is Hyancinth who bridged the gap between the two of you, with a shout of your name she comes bounding across the green and practically leaps into your open arms. 
“Hello sweet girl, having fun are we?” Your hand runs down the back of her head and you smile down at her.
“We were playing a game of tag, would you like to join us.” Sometimes you forget how innocent the young girl is. Her smile is contagious as it spreads across your own face.
“On any other day my darling but I’ve only cut through the park on my way to visit with Lady Danbury and you know how she is about punctuality.”
“Oh.” Her face falls and your heart follows.
“How about this? Once I am done calling upon her ladyship I shall stop by and you can finally show me the new dresses you got for dolly Molly okay?”
Her smile returns full force and she squeezes you a little tighter before conjuring up a mask of faux indifference.
“I suppose I can accept that.” 
“You’re starting to sound like Viscount grumpypants over there.” You tickle at her side.
“I heard that,” Anthony calls from a ways away, Greg held under his arm.
“I was not trying to keep quiet my Lord.” Your eyes meet his once again and Anthony cannot help the little bubbling of hope that builds inside his chest when he sees the lightheartedness contained in your gaze.
“That’s Lord Grumpypants to you.” He shoots back and delights in the way your smile widens. 
“Very well Lord Grumpypants, I must be off but I’ll see you all later.” You say the last words down at the young lady still wrapped up in your arms. You give her one final squeeze before releasing her and bowing your head slightly at her older brother. You try not to dwell too much on how much you enjoy the viscount’s smile.
Anthony takes the day in the park as a sign, one that shows him all hope is not lost. All he needs to do is fix his mistake. He craved you, that much he knew. He craved your smile and your laugh, he yearned for your kind eyes and the way you seemed to float when you walked. He has never considered himself a particularly creative man but the images his mind conjures of the two of you make him second-guess himself.
He did not have time to imagine for very long, however, as Colin was due to return today for the start of the season and Eloise seemed to need constant supervision lest she run away the first chance she got. The Danbury ball could not come soon enough.
The Danbury ball was one of legend, the older woman’s opening ball was not one to be missed as it set the tone for the rest of the season. Young women not lucky enough to gain the Queen’s favor had a second chance at the Danbury ball, a chance to show themselves off to the ton once more in the hopes of catching the eye of an eligible young man. 
You were no different than those young ladies, primping and preening all day long with the hopes that you would be able to secure a match this season before you become too old to do so. Your mother was adamant that this season had to be spectacular, you had to look and act your best always. She was weary and weeping, moaning about how you’d be letting down the family if you were unable to secure a match.
It was interesting you thought, how quickly she changed her tune. During your debut season, she had spoken dreamingly about a love match and finding happiness and now you were sure that she would shove you off to whoever if it meant that you would be married. It seemed your Mama’s greatest fear was you becoming a spinster. 
You obliged her whims, after all, you did wish to find a match. You had always dreamed of a love match. With every year that passed by the candle of hope held within your heart flickered, it was small now, but you had to admit that it still burned. You still soothed your restless nights with dreams of a husband and children, a loving home full of laughter and joy. That is the future you want, that is the future you will fight for.
Tonight you aim to make an entrance, any attention at this point is better than being snubbed. You wore a gown of deep red, with golden lace around the bodice and black and gold beading around the waistline and down the back. Your maid pulled and twisted your hair, piling it upon your head and creating a bold and dramatic look. You were going to pull attention, you had to.
And pull attention you did, from the moment you entered the ballroom all eyes were on you. Ladies whispered and hid behind their fans. Men stood in circles with their peers but you caught the glance of more than one bachelor. And yet, nobody had approached you. You were beginning to feel the flash in your cheeks. Perhaps this was too much, such boldness was offputting and you should have stuck to the known. Dressed in soft pinks and whites, proclaiming purity and softness. 
Anthony was beside himself. You were the most ethereal creature he had ever had the privilege of laying his gaze on and he wished to spend the whole night by your side; catching up on all the lost time. He knew though, that you would never allow that, and he would rather die than hurt you again. 
So he watched and watched and watched. As time ticked on those cowards kept you waiting. Dances began and ended, people arrived and left and all the while you were stood, bathed in candlelight and alone. 
The sun had long since set and you were done. No longer would you endure this embarrassment. You had followed your gut and put yourself out there and it had failed. You were destined to be alone you suppose.
Just as you were getting ready to turn away and retreat back to the safety of your family home a hand entered your sight. Palm up and inviting, your eyes traced slowly up the arm and towards the face of the gentleman who had finally put you out of your misery.
Anthony Bridgerton stood before you, arm outstretched and a small smile on his face. “A lady as beautiful as yourself does not deserve to spend the whole night without a single dance.” 
“Are you offering?” You looked him in the eye and raised a brow. This was the first time since your conversation in the hallways that Anthony had approached you without one of his siblings present to be a buffer.
“I’m giving you an opportunity.”
“And what might that be?” You tilted your head to the side and watched as a smirk slowly spread across his face.
“You have a choice, right here and right now. Either grasp my hand and we dance the rest of the night away, opinions be damned. Or you snub me, snub me like I snubbed you that night, and get your revenge.”
You exhale a laugh and look at him. His face held a smile but also a certain seriousness that belayed his intention. This was him making it up to you. He would accept rejection if that is what you wanted. 
Here he was, the man who had hurt you and who you still held a flame for offering himself up to like a lamb to slaughter. 
You must’ve been taking a long time to answer because the Viscount began shifting on his feet. He looked around the room at the other couples who began to take to the dancefloor.
“I do not mean to rush you my lady, but the dance will be starting soon.”
“Anthony you must promise me.”
“Anything, name it and it’s yours.” 
“Promise me that you will never hurt me again, I don’t think my heart could take it.” You took his hand. And let your lips curve into a gentle smile.
He pulled your hand wrapped within his own close to his heart, and vowed, “I will do everything in my power to protect you for the rest of my days, even if the one I am protecting you from is myself.”
“I don’t need protection Anthony,” you looked deeply into his eyes, “I just need your love, honest and true.”
“Then you shall have it.” 
Anthony pulled you to the dancefloor and led you in far too many dances to be appropriate that night. And every night for the rest of the season. And neither of you cared about what the rest of the ton had to say. You had each other, finally, and neither of you was letting go anytime soon. 
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