#the domesticity…the tenderness…the feeling of having someone by your side completely. it’s not her and i anymore it’s Us yknow and ough. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: Valkyrie’s real name is Brunnhilde, so if you see that name ... that’s why

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑨 = 𝑨𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Brunnhilde is a very affectionate woman, she loves flooding you with kisses, cuddles and the like. She can be very tender; moving the hair from your eyes, holding your cheek in her hand, and lightly kissing your neck.

𝑩 = 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 (What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?)

𝑷𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚: She loves your neck and collarbones. The way your skin looks in the sunlight is mesmerising, and it takes a lot of effort not to reach out and touch you.

𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚: She loves your sense of humour. Brunnhilde could never be with someone whose humourless or isn’t up for a bit of banter. She’s very witty and not a lot of people can keep up with her mind. But you can, and that’s what she loves about you.

𝑪 = 𝑪𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Brunnhilde adores cuddling. She’s a very physically affectionate person. She isn’t shy, nor does she feel embarrassed by PDA. Love is love. And she wants everyone to know that she’s yours and you’re hers.

When you’re at home, all cosy on the lounge, Brunnhilde will lay on the couch, and pull you to her, so you’re laying on top of her. She gently strokes your hair and traces the shape of your nose and lips. It’s very calming and you end up falling asleep every time.

𝑫 = 𝑫𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

No one can really settle down while being a leader. Especially of a country that whose kingdom was completely destroyed. But in terms of domesticity, Brunnhilde likes the mundane aspect of it.

𝑬 = 𝑬𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 (When something is bothering them, how do they act around you?)

Brunnhilde doesn’t want to bother you with whatever is tormenting her. Unless it’s an argument between the two of you - then she wants to talk about it when you two have calmed down.

When she’s hard a hard day at work, she tries not to bring it back home with her. Your home is her safe/sacred place. She feels like nothing can reach her there. Nothing can harm her or make her feel unworthy.

𝑭 = 𝑭𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒆 (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The old Brunnhilde would have run from commitment, from being a leader and more pointedly, a partnership, relationship...the thought of tying herself to someone. God, that would have made old Brunnhilde implode.

Now... now she can’t wait to marry you. To solidify your bond for eternity. She wants you that badly. Although she isn’t rushing into marriage (wanting to take things slow rather than fast-paced), she would want you to take the time to think it through. If you felt pressured, then Brunnhilde would hate that.

𝑮 = 𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically Brunnhilde can forget her strength at times. Well, at times - in the beginning. After your relationship was established, you reminded her that you weren’t the same species. You needed her to be extra careful. And she learned from that and took it onboard. Now she’s never rough (unless you want her ot be...)

Emotionally, she too had to work on that. Brunnhilde can be blunt. But she’s learned not to be. Not to be too soft, but to understand that words are one of the greatest gifts of all. That you can tear someone down and build someone up. And even the smallest of comments can hurt like a dagger.

𝑯 = 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 (Do they tell you about their childhood? Their trauma? The sides of themself that they keep hidden from the world.)

She keeps a lot hidden. Not because she doesn’t trust you but because it hurts too much to recount. Little bits of information slip out when she feels okay to talk about it, or the memories are weighing too heavily on her mind.

But Brunnhilde has lived for a long time, and she’s found ways to keep those memories at bay. Recounting them feels too heavy.

𝑰 = 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She jokingly said “I love you” when you first met and a few times after that, but you knew it was the humour talking rather than the heart. The first time she said it, was 7 months into your situationship turned relationship.

𝑱 = 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ooh very, VERY jealous. Although she understands that people will be attracted to you, she can’t help but feel this primal sense of possession.

And you mean so much to her, that she doesn’t want to lose you. She does all she can to keep her jealousy in check though.

𝑲 = 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Brunnhilde kisses passionately. She wants you to feel the same heat that she does - the same love. And you do, that’s how strong her kisses are. She will wean in a little humour here and there - sweeping you off your feet, twirling you around etc.

She likes to kiss your neck and collarbones, and likes to be kissed on her shoulders. With little trails of kisses up the back of her neck.

𝑳 = 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 (How are they around children?)

To your surprise, she’s completely comfortable around children. No apprehension, no awkwardness. Maybe she was a big sister in her youth, which was so many years ago (she doesn’t like talking about her family.)

She sees kids as the ultimate innocence, and being around them makes her feel lighter. Like there is hope for the future.

𝑴 = 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 (How are mornings spent with them?)

Doesn’t like getting out of bed early, but knows she has to. Another surprise about Brunnhilde is that she takes her kingly duties very seriously. Although she doesn’t like meetings and having to plan, she does so anyway.

So she’s usually the first one out of bed. But she does need a litre of coffee to be able to function.

On her days off (which are far and few between), she likes to sleep in until noon, with you wrapped in her arms. The sun already high in the sky by the time you both get out of bed. You make lunch and go back to the bedroom to eat.

𝑵 = 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 (How are nights spent with them?)

Unlike her mornings, Brunnhilde is the last to go to bed. She wishes it wasn’t so, because that woman LOVES her sleep. But being a leader is hard work.

She loves taking near-scolding hot showers, and standing underneath the water for nearly 45 minutes. It’s in the shower where no one can reach her (other than you).

Brunnhilde has a moderate facial routine. Double cleanse with the same face wash, serums, and then moisturiser. But that’s only a few days a week. Unlike you, who makes sure to keep up the routine daily and without fail. But somehow Brunnhilde’s face is always clear and glowing. Probably her Asgardian genes.

𝑶 = 𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Very, very slowly. You don’t know everything about Brunnhilde. Her wounds go too deep. A lot of it you hear from her subjects, and Thor.

𝑷 = 𝑷𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 (How easily angered are they?)

Not angered easily, but does get annoyed. She hates when there are too many people talking at once, or she’s asked the same question over and over again. But she never snaps or yells. Well, she does shout - but only to get people’s attention.

𝑸 = 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒆𝒔 (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She remembers the important things about you. But everything about you is important to her ... so I guess she remembers everything about you. Which deeply surprised you. You thought she wasn’t listening when you rambled on or ranted about your family. But she was, and she knows who is who, and what kind of upbringing you had.

𝑹 = 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

When you threw a rock at a 20ft tall monster that had invaded the small makeshift Asgardian town. You had no weapons on you, but there were children running away - and that’s where the monster’s attention was. So you threw the first thing you saw, a rock the size of your palm at the back of its’ head.

It was at that moment that she fell in love with you.

𝑺 = 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚 (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Brunnhilde may not come off to strangers as protective over you, but one wrong move and they will beg for forgiveness. Like a serpent dressed as a rabbit, she will strike out at them, stunning them, hurting them. You are important to Brunnhilde like oxygen is to the lungs.

She protects you with her own body, with threats that people know will be followed. She would lay down her life for your safety.

Brunnhilde doesn’t need to be physically protected, she still has her Valkyrie training and her body acts on instinct.

She needs emotional and mental protection. Help with her emotions and memories. They hurt, she lost everyone she cared about. And now she’s King. You protect her sanity and well-being. Reminding her to eat proper food and drink water.

𝑻 = 𝑻𝒓𝒚 (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

In all honesty, I think that Brunnhilde would forget quite a lot of anniversaries, but would make up for it tenfold. She would go over and above to get back in your good graces.

However, she somehow ALWAYS manages to surprise you with her date ideas. She takes you to new places, creating new memories and going on incredible adventures. And then she would surprise you even more with mundane dates like movie nights.

Is very good at gift giving, but they’re usually things that you can do together. And they range from random to heartfelt. Matching sweaters, puzzles, playing cards, and themed board games. She thinks they’re stupid but so stupid that they can be enjoyable.

𝑼 = 𝑼𝒈𝒍𝒚 (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She actually loves picking her nose. No one but you knows that - however, she wouldn’t really care if someone caught her doing it. Would probably look them dead in the eyes and eat it (I’m just joking...)

𝑽 = 𝑽𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not completely vain, but she does like to look good, especially for you. It took her a while to find her image after the events with Hela. For so long she just drank and collected for the Grandmaster.

Now she loves doing creative things with her hair - growing it out and braiding it in intricate patterns. Adding beads, shells and gold clasps. Her hair becomes a defining part of her image.

𝑾 = 𝑾𝒉𝒚 (Reasons why they love each other)

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 You make her feel seen, heard and appreciated. She’s grateful that you care about her and her well-being so much. Brunnhilde hasn’t had that in centuries.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 She makes you feel protected, wanted and safe. You’ve been through a lot in your life, which makes it a bit harder than the usual person to live day to day. Brunnhilde has helped you with so much. She’s helped you on your journey to becoming mentally and emotionally healthy.

𝑿 = 𝑿𝒚𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆 (What’s their song)

Paper Planes by M.I.A. An absolute banger for a badass woman.

𝒀 = 𝒀𝒖𝒄𝒌 (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She is completely and utterly against any homophobia and transphobia. She feels very strongly about the rights of queer and trans people, to the point where she will start a fight if someone even utters a wrong word.

𝒁 = 𝒁𝒛𝒛 (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

When she’s asleep, she is ASLEEP. When she says she’s “going to sleep”, she’s out like a light. The first night you slept with Valkyrie, it actually freaked you out. The next morning you shook her until she opened her eyes because you honestly thought she was dead.

#valkyrie #valkyrie headcanons #marvel #mcu #valkyrie x reader #valkyrie alphabet #sfw #sfw headcanons #sfw alphabet #fluff #marvel headcanons #mcu headcanons #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #headcanons #witch the writer #brunnhilde #brunnhilde aesthetic

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

Idk if you’re still taking Bucky requests, but I came across a quote and I feel in love with it because it just screamed Bucky to me. It read: “there is nothing as beautiful as seeing someone who has been unlucky, finally being loved so effortlessly by the right person” if this sparks anything in you, I would love to read it 💜

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 1.9k

Warnings | dad!Bucky, slight language, slight suggestive theme

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky bit back a yawn as he closed the car door and headed towards the front door. The smell of spring, the freshly mowed grass and blooming flowers overwhelmed his senses along with the warm summer sun hitting his skin. This was nice, he realized, the calculated simplicity and domestic nature of it all. He hiked his bag on his shoulder, the gold in his vibranium arm glinting brilliantly in the slowly dying light of the day. He didn’t bother to hide it anymore, somehow long past that part of his life. At one point he never thought he’d reach that point in his life and now he had the world in front of him.

Walking up the stairs, he smiled to himself as he could already smell something delicious cooking through the open windows. In a vain attempt to keep the household from falling into complete and utter chaos, he slowly opened the door and tried to tip-toe inside. He managed to get about two feet inside and kick off his work boots before he heard an exciting squeal followed by a few loud woofs.

The pitter-patter of two small feet and four paws quickly reached him as Falcon, the trusted family dog, and Emily, your oldest daughter, ran down the hall towards him. Any stress he had remaining quickly melted away at the sight of two of his favorite beings as they almost knocked him over in their rush.

“Daddy!” an excited shout was followed by another bark. He bent down and scooped the small girl in his arms, the weight of the world off his shoulders as she wrapped her little arms around his neck, “hi daddy, you’re home!”

“Of course I am,” he propped her on his hip and studied her sweet little face. She took after him with his dark unruly hair and ocean eyes, but the rest he swore was all you, especially that sweet smile, “I’ll always come home to my sweetest girl. Did you have a good day, baby?”

“Yeah,” she nodded excitedly as he brushed her hair out of her face and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “mama and I painted and then we planted some new flowers. She said she picked them out because they reminded her of you!”

“She did, did she?” he couldn’t stop the grin that spread from ear to ear as his heart fluttered in his chest. Even to this day you still managed to make him weak in the knees and set off butterflies in his belly. He held Emily tightly in his grip as he bent down to give Falcon a few pets, causing the dog to rub against his legs as he wagged his tail, “what would I do without my little hellraisers?”

“Mama says that’s a bad word!” Emily looked at him with wide eyes and he chuckled softly before holding a finger to his lips.

“It’s our little secret,” he whispered as she nodded, “do you know why this secret is okay?”

“Because it’s not gonna hurt anyone,” she asked as he nodded. She gave him a wide gap toothed grin as he set her back down, “will you play with me later, daddy? Falcon wants to have a tea party!”

“Of course,” he promised his daughter as she held tightly onto his hand, “now go and get cleaned up for dinner. It smells like it should all be done soon.”

“Okie dokie,” she dropped his hand and motioned for Falcon to follow her instead, practically bouncing up the stairs.

Bucky sighed in content as he shook his head before slowly making his way into the kitchen where he was sure you were. He found at the island, brows furrowed in concentration as you chopped vegetables for the salad. Your baby boy was slung around your chest, and despite the commotion from Bucky’s entrance, he was fast asleep. A lump welled up in his throat as he watched the sight. It would be nothing special to most people, but to him it was everything.

You looked so beautiful, even in your sweatpants and t-shirt with your hair a chaotic bun as you hummed to the baby under your breath. You looked tired and he felt bad for a moment; leaving you with a toddler and a baby was a ton of work and he would have gladly stayed home with you and helped, but you were insistent that he work if he wanted. You’d never hold it against him, he knew that.

As soon as you sensed you his presence in the kitchen, you turned to him and gave him a soft smile, and his own features softened even more, “hello, my love. I’m so glad you’re so home!”

You set down the knife before slowly making your way over to him, careful not to disturb the baby as he immediately leaned down to kiss you. Your whole body was practically humming from his touch as you stole you a few more kisses, “rough day? You should have called me and I could have come home, honey baby.”

“It wasn’t bad actually,” you promised, watching with nothing but adoration in your eyes as he stroked Stevie’s chubby little cheek, “the chaos duo was on their best behavior today and the little one has been sleeping most of the day. I think he wore himself out from all his fussing last night.”

“Miracles do happen,” he laughed lightly as his hand went to your face and he gently stroked your cheek. You grinned at him, keening into his touch like a cat to the sun, “you are so beautiful.”

“Shut up,” you playfully pushed his chest before hiding your face behind your hands. Funny, how even after all this time he still managed to make you feel nervous and shy, “I’m in my ugliest mom clothes which I’m pretty sure these sweats have permanent puke stains, I haven’t showered today and I look like I haven’t slept in five years. Hardly beautiful.”

“You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on regardless of all of that,” he insisted softly, reaching for your hands and pulling them away from your face. Your whole body flushed with pleasant warmth as you looked into his eyes, “and I love you more than anything in this world.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I let you knock me up twice,” you joked as he playfully rolled his eyes, “god, Bucky, how do you still make me feel like this?”

“Like what?” he asked as he slowly moved to undo the sling from your chest and take the baby from you. Stevie made a few small sounds before cuddling up on Bucky’s chest.

“Like I’m still falling in love with you every day,” you whispered as you leaned in and let him wrap arm around you as well. He kissed the top of your head before sighing in content, “I guess I am. We’re a little different every day - we’re definitely not the same fools from when we first met, huh?”

“I mean, we’re married and have kids, and the whole you know, typical suburban thing going on,” he teased, “so I’d say we’re pretty different. But you’re still my favorite pain in the ass.”

“James!” your eyes widened before the two of you broke into a fit of giggles, “I will get you back for that later!”

“Oh, I definitely count on it,” he promised, “now, go and take a few moments to yourself, shower or whatever, and I’ll finish dinner and get the kiddos and Falcon settled.”

“Whatever would I do without you, my love?”

“I think the better question is what would I do without you, honey baby?”

You blew him a little kiss as you all but ran towards the stairs in order to fit in a quick shower. Sometimes even ten minutes of peace and quiet would suffice. Bucky watched you go with a soft smile on his face, before turning his attention back to his softly cooing son, “your mama’s the best person in this entire world, I hope you always know that.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What?” you could feel Bucky’s eyes on your back as you brushed your teeth in the bathroom en suite. He was sitting in bed, winding down with some television as he waited for you, “I can feel you checking out the goods, Barnes.”

“That’s because I am,” you could practically hear the cheeky smirk in his voice, ��it’s not wrong to admire, is it?”

“You’re too much,” you dried your face off before making your way back over to him. He offered you a lazy smile as he pulled back your side of the blankets and made room for you. You were only wearing his shirt and a pair of old cotton panties but he was watching you like you were the best in this world. Because to him - you were. The end all and be all, “James? What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing,” he whispered as he immediately reached for you and gently pulled you into his lap. You made a small sound of surprise but easily gave into his touch, “nothing at all. I’m perfect.”

“Hmm,” you leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his plump lips, gently tugging on his dog tags, “me too. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I kind of like you a lot.”

“Is that why you married me? Had two kids with me? Got the dog?” he raised a brow as you carded a hand through his dark locks, scratching lightly at his scalp, “I bet it was all for the dog.”

“He didn’t hurt,” you joked, gently stroking his cheek, “but you aren’t so bad either. I love you, Bucky. So much. I hope you know. I hope you know you deserve this, everything we have - the whole world.”

“I…” he paused for a moment, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as you showed him so much tenderness and delicate love, “I love you too.”

“Hey,” you put your hand under your chin and turned his face up towards yours, “I mean it James Buchanan Barnes. You have been through so much, so much that other people forced on you, and you deserve happiness. You deserve all the happiness this world has to offer. I know you have some bad days, and I understand that, but I want you to know I will always be here for you and I will always love you. You are my best friend, my husband, the father of my children, you are my everything.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he took your hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Yes,” you insisted softly, “you do, James.”

“I-”

“How about for one moment you hush up,” you pushed him back against the headboard and pressed a few gentle, lazy kisses to his lips, “and just listen to me. And let me love you.”

“I love you, honey baby.”

“I love you too, James.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate @natthebattygeologist @sociallyantisocialbutterfly @n3ssm0nique @daughterofthenight117 @riddikulus-obsessions @imaginelover88 @saint-bvcky @banana-cheese-cake @sleep-tight1 @missstef23 @moonlacebeam @asylummara @wakandabiitch2 @hoodedbirdie @mysweetlittledesire @reallyloudstarlight @vintagepigeon @froggyy06 @fleurydelacoury @veil-of-time @queenbeean

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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perperam · 3 years

Note

Do you have any Harlivy fic recommendations? Preferably something that is already completed?

OH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

okay okay so quick little tangent fact !! I actually just finished my undergrad degree in "english literature analysis & writing" and reading fics is so fun bc I get to analyze them and break them down and if it's particularly well written the stars align and it's just UGH so good.

ratings are: E (explicit) M (mature) T (teens and up) and G (everyone) anyways here is a HUGE list of my favorite fics to date, their stats/details/plots, reasonings as to why they're on the list to begin with, and a short analysis:

SHORT STORIES (less than 30k words)

for your convenience they’re in order of length bc I’m focusing on this super hard rn

KISS YOUR BEST FRIEND CHALLENGE (T) STATS — 340 words, shenanigans, fluff PLOT — Harley, TikTok and general Social Media queen, decides to do the trending challenge to kiss your best friend. The best friend? Her roommate and the woman she’s been crushing on for fucking ever: Poison Ivy.

AM I TOO CLOSE? (CAUSE YOU FOLD INTO ME LIKE A HEART WITH A BEAT) (G) STATS — 839 words, fluff, shenanigans PLOT — Harley genuinely wasn’t looking for trouble, but it’s hard to just have a day out when you’re one of Gotham’s most wanted. Running into Ivy, she takes drastic measures (and her hoodie into the mix) to distract the police from looking in their direction.

I’M HOME (G) STATS — 892 words, domestic fluff PLOT — After a long and rough day at work, Ivy comes home to Harley. Relaying the details of her day, she basks in the comfort of her girlfriend, who provides gentle questions and is a phenomenal listener. General cuteness.

CONFLICT DIAMONDS (G) STATS — 990 words, wedding shenanigans, banter, humor PLOT — Batman and Renee Montoya respond to a break-in at a jewelry store, except even though the owner is duct-taped to the wall, it isn’t really a break-in; Harley’s just trying to shop for a ring for Ivy, and that’s difficult to do when the owner is screaming in the corner. Batman and Renee both pitch in to help pick something nice for Harley’s girl, resulting in hilarious banter.

OF COURSE (T) STATS — 1.1k words, hurt/comfort (kinda), harley quinn animated tv show centric PLOT — In the aftermath of Ivy’s death, rebirth, and the fall of Joker Tower, Harley collapses onto the ground. Since she never mentioned that her parents are the reason for most of her injuries, Ivy isn’t sure why she’s so out of it.

PERFECT MORNINGS (T) STATS — 1.1k words, domestic fluff/bliss PLOT — Ivy, who usually wakes up early and before Harley, takes a moment to look at the countless muscles, ridges, scars, and tattoos on Harley’s body as she sleeps. General cuteness.

I’D LOVE TO CHECK YOU OUT (T) STATS — 1.7k words, university au, fluff PLOT — Harley visits the library virtually every day, and it’s definitely not because she needs to work on her university courses and homework. She finally works up the courage to speak to the alluring redhead she sees there every day while absentmindedly looking at a book on sharks.

I’LL LOVE YOU IN THE MORNING (NOON, NIGHT) (T) STATS — 2.1k words, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — A snapshot look into Ivy and how she comes to know, care, and love all the sides of Harley—from psychiatrist to criminal to girlfriend. She loves her throughout it all.

DAY-DREAMING (T) STATS — 2.2k words, shenanigans, psychiatrist Harleen PLOT — Ivy’s falling for her psychiatrist—her humorous, intelligent, caring, and downright gorgeous psychiatrist. It’s difficult, to say the least.

WHAT HAPPENS IN THEMYSCIRA (DOESN’T) STAY IN THEMYSCIRA (T) STATS — 2.3k words, humor, wedding shenanigans, angst with a happy ending PLOT — In a surprise twist of events, Harley and Ivy were drunkenly married at Themyscira. When asked at the wedding if anybody had objections to the union of Ivy and Chuck, Wonder Woman and the Queen of Themyscira herself come to object. Ivy, for lack of a better word, wants to die a little.

NOT A ROCKER CHICK (T) STATS — 3.1k words, rock band au, fluff PLOT — The last thing Ivy wants to do is go to a rock band concert with her best friend, Selina. Despite her best efforts, she can’t help but completely fall into the rhythm of the band and their music, so different than her own norm. And okay, maybe the singer (who Selina was friends with and called “Harley”) was also kinda hot...

A TENDER HEART AMONG THE GREEN (T) STATS — 3.2k words, gotham city sirens raise Lucy au, domestic bliss PLOT — Harley and Selina come back home to the apartment to find Ivy passed out asleep with Lucy cuddling into the crook of her neck and Selina’s cats cuddling her legs. Knowing that Ivy would rather be caught dead than in such a compromising situation (after all, she is the Poison Ivy, who “hates humans”) the two take a photo, since it lasts longer. Shenanigans and cuteness ensue.

BUILDING YOUR GIRL’S SECOND STORY (M) STATS — 3.3k words, university/grad school au, angst with a happy ending PLOT — Snapshots of Harley’s battle with her violent and abusive boyfriend, Jack, and the way in which Bruce, his boyfriend Clark, and her best friend (and potentially lover) Pamela all love Harley and will do anything, anything, to make sure she gets the help, care, and love she needs.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF NORMAL (T) STATS — 3.6k words, coronavirus pandemic/quarantine au, family au PLOT — Ivy is requested by the Justice League to help create and manufacture a vaccine for the COVID-19 virus. As she works on the vaccine, she video calls Harley and their daughter Lucy, both of whom miss her very much.

RABBIT IN THE GARDEN (T) STATS — 4.4k words, implied suicide attempt, hard angst PLOT — Winters are difficult to Ivy. When Harley comes home one day to see her submerged fully in water in the bathtub, the only thing Harley can do is cry and take her out. Ultimately Ivy is alright—but it doesn’t make it any easier.

WE WILL BE (EVERYTHING THAT WE’D EVER NEED) (T) STATS — 5.8k words, high school au, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — Harley and Ivy are best friends from high school, living in the middle of Arizona. Ivy is absolutely head over heels for Harley, but the latter is in a growing and increasingly abusive relationship with the older “bad-boy” (literally) Jack. Eventually, the two grow together in more ways than one.

WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS (EXCEPT NO DOGS DIE) (M) STATS — 9.7k words, domestic bliss, no powers just botanist & psychiatrist au PLOT — After her abusive ex-boyfriend tries to maniacally tear down the front door of her apartment with an ax as her best friend, Selina, pushes the table against the splintering wood, Bruce recommends that Harley gets a dog. She gets two German Shepard brothers—Bud and Lou—who lead her one day on their walk to the most beautiful flower shop owner Harley’s ever seen. The story of Harley and Ivy, told with Bud and Lou present to witness every moment.

THE MOMENT I AWAKEN GHOSTS (T) STATS — 11.7k words, falling in love, feelings & realizations PLOT — A deep look into Ivy’s feelings and how they evolve from general hatred against Harleen the psychiatrist at Arkham to a blooming, kind and gentle love towards Harley Quinn, the crown jester of crime.

HARLEQUIN’S ISLE (T) STATS — 17.5k words, hurt/comfort, happy ending, shenanigans, humor PLOT — Harley and Ivy decide to go on a vacation on Bruce Wayne’s new eco-friendly plane, but in a surprise twist of events, things go terribly wrong, Ivy falls out of the plane, and the two (as well as all the other rich and wealthy big-name CEOS on the plane) get stranded on an island with someone actively trying to rob the investors. Harley and Ivy will fight them, god damn it, because they deserve this vacation and they will have it.

LONGER STORIES (30k words to 100k words)

YOUR LOVE (DÉJÀ VU) (G) STATS — 33k words, slow burn, mild angst, canon divergence PLOT — A what-if-Harley-found-Ivy-first fic, YOUR LOVE wonderfully illustrates Dr. Harleen Quinzel treating Ivy in a wonderfully humane and kind way, including learning floriography, the language of flowers, in order to better relate to her. Ivy is taken aback by her doctor's genuine care and begins to develop feelings, all the while Harleen falls hard and fast which wholly confuses and frightens her. The one caveat is that while this is happening, Harleen is also treating the Joker as well, who tries (keyword: tries) to manipulate her. Ivy and Harley dance a timid tango around one another as they try to navigate this new playing field of romantic feelings for one another, and things come to a breaking point when Harleen realizes that, perhaps, all of her patients have a point and that the real villains are not the ones inside the asylum, but rather the ones running it. FAVORITE DETAILS — I just love the way this is written. It provides a wonderful and almost skinny-love like romance (except this takes place in an insane asylum) as Harleen and Ivy both try to understand their strong feelings for one another. The way in which the rogues and other inmates/patients all look out for one another was very heartwarming, and Waylon and Eddie's thinly veiled camaraderie with Ivy—and her thinly veiled appreciation for it—were both lovely and created a really warm environment. It really underlined why Harley loved them because you love them too in the process, and see how she reaches her breaking point. CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harley, as she is in all of my favorite fics, is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and talented psychiatrist. Her caring nature is wonderfully outlined in this fic as she helps Waylon, Eddie, Ivy, and everybody else in the asylum be treated with genuine respect and care, going as far as to get them personalized gifts. Her psyche fracturing slowly never once makes her seem unintelligent to the reader, even as she actively places a ditz persona in order to fool the rest of the asylum staff (and the Joker). Ivy, on the other hand, is illustrated in a way that perfectly shows how all she genuinely needed was someone to listen. She's sometimes harsh and crass but you can see how she begins to soften as Harley helps her and treats her with: you guessed it, genuine respect. FINAL VERDICT — I would get this tattooed on my ass if I could

NOVEL LENGTH WORKS (100k+ words)

ACROSS THE WAY (M) STATS — 128.7k words, slow-burn, tattoo artist & flower shop owner au PLOT — Botanist and flower shop owner Pamela Isley moves to Gotham from Seattle in search of a new life. Her shop is located directly next to a tattoo shop—one that is incredibly loud and bothersome. Upon walking in to give the shop a piece of her mind, she meets one of the resident artsits, Harley Quinzel, and cannot get her out of her mind. The two become best friends, and feelings slowly start to develop. On a night when Harley is most vulnerable and in need of a place to escape, Pam offers her apartment as a refuge, and from that point on things are never the same again (in the best way possible). FAVORITE DETAILS — The SIT sessions were a wonderful touch and I loved seeing the recovery of both Ivy and Harley, because it was so real. I also loved how once Harley got out, she did everything in her power to protect both herself and Ivy from Jack, and we got to see her and Ivy grow into their wonderful, healthy romance. CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — I love how all of the characters are illustrated; Selina, who is the caring best friend and genuinely does her best to help others around her all the while being her cocky, usual self. Pam, who escaped Seattle and started anew in Gotham and is the crass botanist and also the insanely kind and caring lover. Barbara is the adorable coffee shop owner, Floyd is the caring figure for Harley that she never had, and everyone is just wonderful. FINAL VERDICT — literally go read this rn, what are you even doing

MAD LOVE: THE BEGINNING & MAD LOVE: THE FINAL CHAPTER (M) STATS — nearly 400k words total, angst, canon divergence, domestic fluff, slice of life PLOT — imagine YOUR LOVE except this is much longer, much more heart-wrenching, a whole lot more angsty, and Harleen's break with Harley is a lot more prevalent. Another what-if scenario of Dr. Harleen Quinzel meeting and treating the illusive Poison Ivy instead of the Joker, MAD LOVE shows an interesting depiction of the way they manipulate, hurt, care, and love one another. The entire story is riddled with well placed metaphors, recurring themes, and both Ivy and Harley's characters are illustrated in the most complex and interesting way. All throughout both the initial and the sequel, Ivy and Harleen play a metaphorical chess game in manipulation as a means to gain the upper-hand on the other, which creates a dangerous foundation for their following love story. In the sequel, "The Final Chapter," the story starts with Harley and Ivy—already married near the end of "A New Beginning"—having two kids and the entire piece spans over Harley's lifetime until she's on her deathbed, with Ivy still stuck at 33 years old beside her. I personally stopped reading the story after Harley died (I was too emotionally vulnerable to continue on) but if you continue reading on, you get to see Ivy move on and appreciate Harley's impact on her life as she finds love and happiness again after the loss of her wife. FAVORITE DETAILS — We get insight into both Ivy and Harleen's trauma, and how not everything can be fixed with love. Neither Harleen nor Ivy (or their actions for that matter) are characterized as perfect in any way, and the story never excuses any of their more-than-questionable actions; in fact they make MANY mistakes and manipulate one another throughout the story, and both have power over the other (Harleen is her psychiatrist, but Ivy could easily kill her, so emotional power over someone with immense physical power). CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harleen is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and capable psychiatrist, and the story somehow wonderfully mixes Harley's desire for violent chaos with Harleen's desire to help others. v Ivy is illustrated as the epitome of "I hate you and will not be nice unless you're literally either my wife or kids." She is seldom kind to others, is often crass, but an entire softy when it comes to Harleen and their children. She's a hard worker and is heavily involved in her research. Harleen, on the other hand, is equally cunning but more lighthearted, extremely athletic and active, the "fun" mom, and less into power trips (unless it's about Ivy). FINAL VERDICT — definitely the most interesting fics I've ever read in my entire fucking life, it's so complex and wonderful and a literal minefield of analysis worthy literature, I'd also get this tattooed on my ass if I could

#mryanswers #harlivy #jfc #this is a long ass post #please I spent hours on it #literally

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infernalrevenge · 3 years

Text

The Greatest Show

Fandom: Resident Evil 8: Village

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G

Summary: Donna and Angie attempt to cheer Reader up after a bad day.

Notes: A little bit of domesticity and comfort from our resident dollmaker. Yes, Reader is still a servant in the house while also being her partner -- because why not HAHAHA. Just thought this would be a fun silly thing to write.

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This day was not going the way you thought it would. Well, that was putting it nicely -- this day was going to shit.

It was bad enough that you had a hard time falling asleep last night and woke up in a sour mood, but then you had an argument with a new vendor at the village who not only exclaimed that there was no new shipment of vegetables that morning, but also had the gall to try and throw you out of the store under virtue that they "didn't want the freak servants of one of the freak lords tainting their good establishment." The fucking nerve!

When you got back to the manor empty-handed, fuming but attempting to prepare lunch (sans vegetables), you accidentally burned your hand on the hot stove. As if that wasn't bad enough, when you jumped back in pain, you knocked over a few plates onto the floor and had to clean all that up too. You had to complete all your other chores with just one usable hand, the other one wrapped in a loose bandage. Fantastic.

You wanted to scream. Just let out a long scream to let the frustration out.

But you didn't. You couldn't. You still had other things to do, and you weren't going to let a few setbacks ruin it all. You went about your day as usual -- or at least you tried to, because you didn't quite notice how you would grip onto cups a little tighter, with your jaw set and locked as your grit your teeth, and had a perpetual furrow in your brow that worried Donna and Angie.

"What's up with them?" the doll muttered as she watched you slam a tray down in the kitchen when you thought no one else was around.

Donna didn't reply, only looking at the tension you held in your posture -- like you were set to burst with just one wrong move.

Your thoughts were consumed with tasks to perform for the rest of the day, chanting "Just get through it, you'll be fine" over and over in your head like a mantra. You didn't want to worry Donna over such trivial matters. This was just one bad day. You were better than this! You could do this. Just get through it. Just push! Just do it!

It was close to evening when you found your last task for the day before supper: Tidying up the library. Maybe you'll see Donna and Angie there and they could help lift your spirits. Finally, something to look forward to! Angie would probably make some quip about your bandaged hand, and Donna would be winding down on the couch and picking out a movie to watch after supper while you could talk about something to take your mind off the stress. But when you were greeted with a dark and empty space, neither of them in sight, you only sighed in disappointment.

Just get through it, you'll be fine.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked away the blurriness in your eyes, picking up the duster in the corner.

Just get through it, you'll be fine.

You looked up at the clock. Half an hour until supper. Right on time. You took a deep breath to calm yourself and headed for the kitchen.

You were already going through the menu in your head when you felt an insistent force collide onto your chest, nearly knocking you over.

"Angie?"

Donna wasn't with her, and didn't seem to be anywhere nearby either. She was merely floating on her own. "Y/N, just the person I'm lookin' for! Come on, I gotta show you something!" She seemed rather urgent and excited at the same time. What was she planning now?

She took your uninjured hand and started pulling.

"Wait, but I have to get ready for supper--”

"Supper schmupper, this is way more important!"

"But--”

Angie dragged you by the pant leg to the living room, leaving you no choice but to hop along and follow. There, you saw a table laying on its side covered in a shiny silky cloth, obscuring your view of what or who could be behind it. You could just barely see a familiar veil-clad head crouching underneath. Before you could ask, she yelled at you to sit down on the short stool in front of the set up.

"Angie, what's going on?"

"You'll see, I promise. Now be quiet, the show's about to start!"

With that, she waddled away behind the table, seemingly greeted by a chorus of soft giggles. You tucked your knees close to your chest and waited for the commotion to settle down... whatever this was. You were used to Angie's antics at this point, but what kind of show was she talking--

Suddenly, three puppets dressed like the lords popped up from behind the table, with another one looking like a smaller replica of Angie. They all had cutesy and somewhat exaggerated features, completely made out of felt, cloth, and stuffing. Like plushies.

What the...?

"Don't be sad, Y/N!" they said in unison, their voices remarkably similar to each respective lord, if not much higher in pitch.

"Welcome to the village, we're so glad you're here! Turn that frown upside down and give us a cheer!" they sang, each of the dolls moving along to the beat they made.

"Donna, Angie, w-what..." you started, but they kept singing. You weren't quite sure who exactly might be providing these voices -- the dolls themselves, maybe even Donna -- but you were getting more and more amused by the second.

After their short number, introducing each lord to you (Big Sister Dimi, Mr. Heisenberg, Moreau the Fish Man, and Angie, as you recall), they proceeded with the show proper. Apparently that song wasn't all the two of them had up their sleeves.

"Okay, everyone! We have something very important to do!" the doll that looked like Angie spoke up (probably played by Angie herself) "How do we cheer up a loved one?"

"A loved one?" Doll-Moreau repeated.

"Yes! When someone we care about is sad, we should help in any way we can to cheer them up, right?"

"Right!" Doll-Dimitrescu agreed.

You felt a small smile start to crack your facade. Was this all for you?

"But how do we do that?" Doll-Heisenberg chimed in.

"Well what are things that they like? What makes them happy?" Doll-Moreau asked, who turned to Doll-Angie.

"They like cookies! Chocolate chip are their favorite!"

As if on cue, you felt something tug on your leg, and you looked down to see a porcelain doll in a sailor suit lifting up a plate of cookies to you, littered with chunks of chocolate in the dough. "Thank you," you said softly, giving the little one a gentle pat on the head before they ran off back behind the table. You placed the plate on your lap and started to nibble on one as the show went on.

"What else can we do to make them happy?"

"They also like tea with their cookies!"

You could just barely hear someone whisper "Tea? Ew, why not milk?" before they were swiftly hushed. On cue again, another doll emerged with a cup of hot tea for you. You whispered another thanks before they went back, taking a sip of your drink.

"We can sing their favorite songs!" Doll-Heisenberg started trying to sing before Doll-Dimitrescu interfered with a swift knock to his head. "Not with your voice, you can't."

That was a little mean, but you couldn't help but laugh anyway. You would've choked on your tea if you had been drinking it still.

"Why don't we ask them?" Doll-Angie said, turning to face the audience -- you. "What would make you happy, Y/N?"

The smile on your face only widened, tapping a finger on your chin as you made a show of thinking deeply. Might as well play along if they put in so much effort. "Well, what would make me happy is to have my lovely girlfriend here to share these cookies with."

"You heard 'em, Donna, get over there!" The real Angie peeped from behind the table, with the puppet lords cheering on as well as she emerged from her hiding place. You didn't even need to see under her veil to know she was blushing madly at the attention, even though it was just you and the dolls in her company right now.

You moved the plate of cookies from your lap to make room for her. "Y/N..." she was about to protest, and you pouted in response, giving your best puppy dog impression and opening your arms. "I thought you wanted to cheer me up, love?"

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she settled herself on your lap, your arms wrapped around her waist to keep her steady. You looked up at her fondly and pulled her against you -- it suddenly felt like the day's worries had melted away, and all that mattered was having the woman you loved so close to you. That in itself was a great comfort.

Angie seemed to have taken the reins now, the show getting louder and more chaotic as it went on -- the dialogue was reminiscent of the banter you had with her, and some jokes were made at the expense of the other lords (and sometimes Donna), much to her embarrassment. You rested your chin on her shoulder and couldn't help but laugh along.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Donna whispered, tilting her head slightly to look at you.

"You... noticed then?" Your shoulders sagged, head weighing heavier onto hers, feeling like you wanted to hide.

"I did. It was a little hard not to." She gently took your bandaged hand in hers, pressing a tender kiss onto it. "But I didn't want to stand by and not do something about it, so... I hope this was okay."

You felt your heart swell with affection for her -- when did you get so lucky to have such a thoughtful woman by your side? "More than okay. This was very sweet of you and Angie."

A moment passed before Donna spoke again, "I just want you to know that... if there's anything you want to talk about, anything at all, know that I'm here for you, love. Always."

You could almost feel a tear come to your eye at that, "I'll keep that in mind."

You caught a glimpse of her smile at this angle, "You know I'd do anything to see you happy."

And she could see yours, "You already do."

(After learning of the existence of these "lord puppets", it became a game between you and Angie to hide them in plain sight whenever each lord would come visit the estate and bet on how long it took for them to notice it.

Lord Heisenberg almost never seemed to see his -- you weren't sure if he just didn't care to look around, or found it once and opted to ignore it, muttering something about it being "creepy".

Lord Moreau took a while to find his too, but when he did, you couldn't forget the look of joy and flattery on his face. It was quite adorable, and it turned to how quickly he could find the doll in a new room instead.

Lady Dimitrescu never visited, but when you and Donna went over to her castle, you always made sure to bring it with you. You would catch her daughters trying to hide their snickers when you would just stand around carrying the doll like Donna did with Angie, but whenever the lady tried to find out why, she never thought to look at you to see the commotion. Your girlfriend sometimes scolded you for it, but Angie always had a high five ready for you at the end of every visit.)

#donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento #lady beneviento x reader #lady beneviento #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8 #gender neutral reader #gn!reader

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Note

can I request some naga with a spetznaz reader? she is highly skilled and has been with the spetznaz for atleast a decade. and maybe her squad had to team up with naga to take down some dangerous drug lord or something and they start to fall in love. note she always wears her balaclava when she's around other people she only tekens it off when she is alone with her men or just by herself. she also has a few scars

sorry if it's too specific!

Don't Go | Naga x Fem!Reader

Oooooo sheeeeeet 👀👀👀 I'm so here for Naga x badass lady content lmao. Also, not to worry!! I love yous guy's OCs, and if this is one such instance, I'm more then happy to write some content for them. In fact, I'd be quite honored :)

Anyway, sorry for the wait but this turned into a whole ass little fic, so here we go!!

The blistering Laotian sun beams overhead. Naga is taking shelter in the branches of a tall tree, sharpening a blade and surveying the land below.

His men and yours mill around, preparing for the fight coming up.

In return for his work for Perseus, Kapano has called in a favor... One of Perseus' operators and a small squad to help him and his men take down a rival who's been getting far too close for comfort to his territory. And well... He didn't get to be in this position by playing nice.

The two of you have been tracking his whereabouts for weeks now and, at long last, the time has come. Tonight's the night, and afterwards your partnership will be through.

One last shick of the blade and then... Silence.

He looks down into the clearing and picks you out from the crowd. An easy task, considering you're wearing one of the same few balaclavas you always wear.

And he does mean, always.

He's never seen your face, despite the few times he's given you the privilege of seeing his. Somehow, he's always thought that maybe, if he removes his mask or bandana, it'll encourage you to do the same, but... To no such avail.

It's strange, you know... He hasn't a clue what you look like, and yet he can't seem to get you out of his mind. He's wondered often, but all he knows for sure is that you have the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen...

The thought of parting ways with you after tonight upsets him, even though he knows it shouldn't. This is a business arrangement only. Nothing more.

And yet... He's never met a woman quite like you before.

He could get any woman he wants in all of Laos into his bed should he please, and yet the one who actually intrigues him, he has no chance with. And that's just the thing, isn't it? He doesn't want a woman in his bed, he wants one in his life damn it!

His lonely, stressful, life...

Prostitutes and dancers are plentiful and cheap to a man like him, but company such as that does nothing to interest him. He needs... A partner.

Someone who will stay through the tough and the crazy and the fighting and the schemes. Someone to be there through the hurt and the loss and the anger and the loneliness. Someone...

Like you.

During the day, he has visions of expanding his underground empire and sharing the wealth together. At night, he dreams of a quiet life with a woman who calls his name sweetly and kisses him softly. Yes, even a feral, conniving, wild man such as he dares to dream of a domestic life after this one to grow old and fat in, from time to time.

Kapano lays his head back and sighs deeply. Surely not. You are a tigress among women, certainly not the type to dote and be doted on by a small man with a big lifestyle and personality like him.

Do you ever think of such things? He wonders.

He watches you spar hand to hand with one of your men. You're giving every bit as good as you get, and in a few moves more he's confident you'll gain the upper hand.

A thud and a cheer finds him from down below. He cracks open his eyes to see, to no one's surprise, that you have won. With a small smile and an even tinnier sigh, he claps his hands politely and slowly fades into one of his day dreams.

Just according to plan, the raid goes off without a hitch. The rival has been sufficiently delt with, and Naga has found himself considerably richer in the process. You spend most of the night laughing and celebrating as the two of you, along with your crews, haul back the loot you've captured.

The two of you take rest amongst the sea of pillows and cushions that make up his living room furniture. For the third time since you've been here face to face with him, you wince and try to play it off.

"Is something wrong?", he asks at last.

"Tsk, it's nothing. Just a cut I think", you touch your covered cheek and sigh. The woolen fabric is irritating the injury you received from the fight. Just another scar for the count, you suppose...

"Sorry, I really must be going. I should clean this up...", You move to stand, only to fall back into the pile of cushions with a hiss. It would seem that knee on knee strike you received earlier as well is catching up with you.

Naga puts his hands out to steady you, "No no! It's alright... I um...", He spares a cautious glance to the hem of your balaclava. Should he... "Would you like me to clean it for you?"

You give him an appraising look. There's no one you trust in this world with your face, aside from a select few of your men. But... You must admit.

You've developed... Feelings, for the oh so vicious little warlord. Hm, vicious only on the outside, you muse. He has a tender heart underneath it all, and you consider yourself lucky to have been able to bear witness to it, just as you are now.

"...Fine"

Slowly, carefully, you remove the mask. It's stuck to the dried blood from your wound but, with a bit of help, it's off soon enough.

You hold a hand to your injured cheek, hoping to stop up some of the fresh blood after the old stuff has been ripped away. Naga holds your mask, and he... Feels...

In awe.

You have all the beauty of a goddess, and he feels truly privileged to behold the sight of you.

"Something wrong?", You cock an eyebrow, suddenly second guessing your decision to reveal yourself.

"No, I just...", Gently, he reaches out a hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, "You're more beautiful then I ever could've imagined..."

His voice is quiet and distant, as though he's in a dream. As the moonlight dances through the room, he gazes at you in a state of absolute wonder until it almost makes you wish you could stay in this moment forever.

Suddenly, he shakes himself, snapping out of it. He shrinks away and breaks his eyes from looking at yours, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that", he's quiet for a moment. You both are, as you reel from the sudden change. "I'll go get th-"

"Wait", your hand reaches out and tugs him back down. He stumbles a little and finds himself landing closer to you then he's ever been before.

The cool breath of your lips tickles the skin of his broad little nose, even as your breath seems to hitch in your throat. His deep, almond eyes lock onto your bright, shining irises, the only feature he's known you for, for all this time, before daring a glance at your parted lips.

The slightest of movements brings you closer to him, but he's been waiting for this moment far too long for gentleness.

He supports your head and shoulders before crashing his lips into yours. His lips are thick and soft, far more so then you would've expected of gang boss like himself. He suspends himself over top of you, his body only inches away as you fall back completely against the plush pillows.

You run a hand along his side as he works over your slips, rough, but slow. His body is lean and hard, but softer and pleasingly warm in certain places. He moans happily, like a dog receiving a particularly enjoyable scratching, as you gently caress his side and kiss him back.

When you're both ready, he gently breaks the kiss, only to plant one more to your forehead. He lingers there a moment, his voice the barest of whispers, "Please don't go tomorrow..." He sniffs, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was about to cry.

He pulls back a little and shakes his head, "Or ever. I-I want you to stay...", He caresses your healthy cheek, and shyly makes eye contact with you before pressing a long, tender kiss to your lips. "I think... I think I love you"

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, a wave of surprise over taking you. You had no idea he felt this way... Maybe you're not as crazy as you thought for all those times you've thought about him...

Honestly, you don't know if you're ready for something like this, but...

Is anyone?

You swallow your nerves, and find that a small smile breaks free as you let your anxieties go. "I think...", You cup his cheek and give a tiny kiss to the tip of his nose, "maybe I love you too"

#black ops cold war #call of duty #kapano naga vang #naga x reader #kapano vang x reader

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softykooky · 4 years

Text

sanctuary: six

summary: leaving your father was easy. leaving them? well...that’s a different kind of strength. 7.9k words.

genre: mafia au, fluff, major angst

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings: toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, reader goes to therapy, hurt, argument/yelling, the boys are mean...

author’s note: i made you guys wait long enough hehe :) hope you like it, please let me know what you think! and please take notice of the warnings!! they are there for a reason <3

♡ series masterpost ♡

Your nightmares have gotten better...somewhat. Better in the sense that you don’t let them carry over as much to the next day. Better in the sense that now, there are seven smiling faces that greet you every morning to help the fear dissolve. But they still relent as strong as ever, and make you toss and turn every single night with no pity.

They’ve gotten more frequent since that meeting with your father. More vivid. Some nights, your nightmares are so bad that you just end up migrating over to Taehyung’s room right next to you and sleeping on the edge of the bed (though you just end up wrapped around each other in the morning). Taehyung never bats an eye. Only opens the side of his thick duvet for you to crawl into and flicks on a lamp because he knows you don’t like the dark after a nightmare.

Tonight is no different. From the other side of the wall, Taehyung can hear your pained whimpers and mumbles that he can barely make out. Your sheets rustle as your body protests the vivid dream, and he can’t help but to bolt out of his comfortable position to check up on you. You’re still deep in restless sleep when he opens the door and approaches your bed.

“Y/N, sweetheart, please wake up”, he soothes, caressing the side of your face with one hand. “It’s just a dream.”

The yellowing bruise on your cheek has begun to fade, but it still makes their blood boil every time they catch sight of it. Seeing it right now makes Taehyung want to burn the entire city down and your father along with it. But he is here for you. And Taehyung (and the other six) cannot be anything but soft towards you.

“Baby, wake up”, he says again, louder this time and it makes you begin to stir out of sleep. You quiet at the contact of his skin but your eyes remain closed and that fitful frown is still on your face. Taehyung doesn’t know that his mere presence brings you comfort. Even when you’re not conscious.

He takes the authority to nestle under the covers next to you and it’s as if your body just naturally gravitates to his, tucking yourself into his arms like a linking puzzle piece. It’s a selfish reason, and Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone, though he has a feeling the guys already know and also share his belief. But he secretly treasures the moments that he gets with you, even if it is for a heartbreaking reason such as nightmares.

He loves the feeling of your body next to his, and the blankets that get just a little too overheated because the both of you are human furnaces. He loves the gentle thud of your heartbeat on those nights that he holds you closer than normal, when you shake like a leaf through your dreams and he is your tether to the ground.

And to think, just a while ago he was yelling at you from the other side of the wall, complaining about your loud crying. He wants to go back in time and kick himself. Taehyung’s scared. He’s never really cared for someone like this before.

You are already safely stowed away in his wide chest when a shadow walks by the room. Taehyung is not surprised when Yoongi creaks the bedroom door open, and not surprised when he sees Jimin in tow.

“We heard her all the way from upstairs.” Yoongi mutters through a yawn. Jimin just sighs and looks at your sleeping figure with concern and longing. The two men shuffle into the room and as Jimin lifts up the blanket to flank your other side, Yoongi sets himself at the foot of the bed. Not that any of them lacked space, of course. The boys made sure your room was properly equipped with a large California king.

“It’s been getting worse. I don’t know what to do. I want to help her, but I-”

Taehyung finds himself getting choked up through his words. They all feel the same way. It’s just that there’s been too many nights where he’s had to hold your broken pieces together while you scream out the ghosts of what has happened to you. If it’s too much to bear for the seven of them, looking from the outside, they can’t imagine how it must feel for you.

Jimin reaches over, your body nestled between the two of them, and inserts his hand inside Taehyung’s, caressing the thumb back and forth of his skin.

“I guess all we can do is be here on the nights that are difficult.” Yoongi tilts his head so that he’s looking at you, still drifting off in your dream with a pained expression on your face.

“She’ll get through this. She’s strong.”

The words that Yoongi whispers into the night air of your bedroom are hopeful. Uncharacteristic for a man like him, but when it comes to you, optimism is the only choice. He’ll allow himself to have hope if it’s for you.

The four of you fall back into shallow sleep, and time passes by differently when it’s night time and your bones cry for rest. They fall in and out of consciousness for a minute or a couple hours, none of them are sure. All they can focus on is their worry, and you continue to battle through your war of bad dreams. Jimin and Taehyung awaken again when you begin to stir.

You quiver like you’re cold, even when you’re sandwiched in between two warm bodies and they both snuggle in to hold you even closer. But you remain lost to your nightmare and begin to cry tears that drip down and dampen the fabric of Taehyung’s pajama shirt. He knows you’ll apologize profusely for that in the morning, but he couldn’t give less of a damn about his shirt. The feeling of you crying in his arms makes him feel like an utter failure.

Jimin wipes away the wet trail that the tear left behind on your skin, and wants to cry himself. He doesn’t know how to take your pain away, and wants to scream because sleep is the only time where you can truly rest and the universe deprives you of even that.

“I’m so sorry, princess. We’re here.” He whispers to your unhearing ears. “We’ll be here.”

When your cries begin to get loud and your muttering becomes pained, the door is softly opened again. This time, it reveals a wide-awake Jungkook and a not so awake Hoseok. Yoongi rolls his eyes but can’t help the fond smile that paints his lips.

“Jungkook, I told you to stop staying up so late playing video games.” he whisper-scolds, and Jungkook looks sheepish in the lowlight of your bedroom. They’re not surprised by his late night antics by any means, and they’re also not surprised that he abandoned them to check up on you. They all know Jungkook has an unreasonably tender spot for you.

“Is it her dreams again?”, Hoseok says, pure worry leaking out of every word and staring at your impossibly small self in Taehyung’s hold. There’s no annoyedness in his tone. They’re all just deathly concerned about you.

Pushing Hoseok inside the room and quietly closing the door behind him, Jungkook situates himself on the loveseat next to the bed, while Hoseok just plops on the plush rug, snatching a throw pillow and tucking it under his head. Jimin sweeps a stray hair away that had fallen into your face.

Though they’re all trying to close their eyes and sleep, they all know that tonight will be a restless one. If you are not peacefully sleeping, they won’t be able to either. And it seems that that statement applies to all of them, when not even 10 minutes pass until Namjoon and Seokjin make their way to your bedroom, for the same reason as the other five. They wordlessly set out pillows and blankets on the floor beside your bed, nestling into each other for warmth and hoping that you can feel their sincerity even in sleep. And if anyone could see them now: big, bad mafia bosses cuddling together to help you through a night of bad dreams, Bangtan would force them to sign non-disclosure agreements. For you though, they could do this for hundreds of nights.

When all seven are there, you miraculously slumber peacefully through the night. For the first time since Taehyung crept into your room, you are resting comfortably, quiet and undisturbed. And when you start snoring, Taehyung wants to cry with sheer relief. It was as if your subconscious vied for the presence of all the boys, and now that you have it, they finally allow themselves to drift off as well.

The last thing you expected when you woke up this morning was to be dripping in sweat and much too aware of the extra three bodies on the bed with you. Ones you don’t remember going to sleep with last night. You have no recollection, just remembered that you went to sleep alone and now the seven men you’ve grown far too fond of were in the room with you, still snoozing the day away.

At the foot of your bed, Yoongi stretches his limbs and groans when the sunlight peaks through the curtains into his eyes. He squints away the sleep and smiles dopily at you from under a blanket. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the way you practically melt at just his gaze.

“Morning, sweetheart.” His throaty morning voice makes you blush two shades of red.

“Good morning”, you whisper back, not wanting to wake any of them up. They just look so adorable and so completely exhausted. Yoongi bets that all of them would rather forfeit their positions as mafia bosses before telling you it’s because they stayed up all night worrying about you. “Um…”, you murmur, eyes darting around the room, “why are you all in here?”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to admit how whipped they actually are for you.

“You were...having bad nightmares. So we wanted to come make sure you were okay.”

Your eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, and it reminds you of when Namjoon had done the same for you all those nights ago. It makes your heart ache and bloom at the same time because well..no one’s really cared enough to do something like this for you. Something so simple yet significant. You blink away the mistiness in your eyes, looking around the room once again.

Three of them are on your bed. The rest are distributed across the floor and Jungkook’s slung uncomfortably on a chair. When you look back at Yoongi, it seems like he already knows all the thoughts running through your head. He already knows the words you want to say, but don’t know how to articulate.

“We’ll do this every night if we have to, Y/N. For as long as it takes.”

You leap from your spot under the blankets to wrap Yoongi in a bear hug, burying your face in his shoulder as he buries his in your hair. Though you are overheated from the cuddling and still dazed from sleep, you hold him with as much sincerity as you can muster. You have a feeling he can tell when he holds you back just as warmly.

The movement makes Jimin and Taehyung wake in unison and as they rub the fatigue from their eyes and land on the sight of you perfectly swathed in Yoongi’s arms, the two of them think it’s a sight they could get used to waking up to. They wonder if you feel the same way.

“Thank you.” Your words are airy and light in his ear, but Yoongi knows their true weight. He doesn’t say anything. Just plants a soft kiss on the side of your temple and relishes in the scent of your shampoo.

When he stares past your shoulders, he meets the gaze of Jimin and Taehyung, who are fondly peering at the two of you. Years of being with each other, they’ve learned to communicate certain things without having to say anything. And right now, in the gentle morning light, the realization is beginning to seep in.

Perhaps the way they care about you is more what they had expected.

Living with the seven of them is an adjustment. Getting accustomed to a rhythm and routine in a house that’s the headquarters of an underground powerhouse is easier said than done. You were constantly surrounded with uncertainty and tiptoeing danger but you had never felt unsafe. They were there. And as long as you had them, this house was sanctuary.

You’re not in any immediate danger. Your father had basically agreed to leave you alone for the foreseeable future and the media had begun to calm down. However, when the tides have settled, the boys are able to see you up close and personal and at all the ugly scares you’ve tried to hide from everyone. They’re able to see what those years of trauma has done to you.

Whenever someone’s voice booms too loudly across the mansion, yelling orders at subordinates or for any other reason, you start to quiver like a leaf in the wind. When one of them reaches towards you too quickly, for simple things like a wave or to hold your hand, you can’t help but to flinch in anticipation. And you try to hide it, but it’s impossible not to notice.

They notice everything.

They always do, when it comes to you.

With every mannerism and survival instinct that has been involuntarily drilled into your subconscious, they all grow angrier that you’ve been subjected to this pain. Hoseok has had to talk Namjoon down from sending their entire fleet to dismantle the ambassador a couple too many times as they continue to learn how deep the trauma with your father truly runs.

“Y/N…”, Jin hesitantly mutters, fiddling with the food on his plate nervously, “have you ever thought about...going to therapy?”

You freeze in between a chew and swallow, eyes staring into his with an innocent deer-in-the-headlights expression. You look like you might have a panic attack, and Jin is quick to cut the tension.

“N-not that we’re forcing you to do it, my love. It’s only a suggestion. It’s just that..maybe it would be good for you. To talk about things and get professional help.” By the way he says it, and the way the other boys are staring at you expectantly, you realize this is something they’ve probably been discussing for a while now. And though it’s heartwarming to know that they care about your health, the idea of going to therapy is deathly daunting.

“I don’t know, guys…” You twist your hands in your lap, a nervous habit to show your discomfort and they all instantly regret bringing this up at all. You keep your gaze glued downwards. You’re afraid that if you look up, you’ll just see disappointment from the ones that you’ve grown to care about so much. You don’t think you could handle it.

“Could you look at us, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is soothing and there is no single trace of anger or frustration. You slowly tilt your head upwards and meet his eyes.

“At the end of the day, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want therapy, then fuck therapy, princess.”

Namjoon feels gratification when his statement makes you smile, and his heart suspiciously flutters in his chest.

“But we just want the best for you. We all want you to heal because…”, Namjoon looks around and makes eye contact with the rest of the boys, whom he knows share his same feelings.

“You’re so important to us.”

You’ve known this. You know that they care about you even when your mind forces you to doubt that anyone does. But when you hear it like this, so raw and unfiltered with sincerity leaking in every letter, it ignites something that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

You take a glance next to you at Jungkook, whose warm smile makes your lungs feel like molten honey. At Yoongi, who looks back at you with gentle eyes. At Hoseok, who is impossibly soft with you. At them all. It makes you realize something:

You don’t want to go to therapy. It’s scary and you’re not really sure if you want to talk about your father or your family or anything that happened before you met Bangtan. But you have people who care about you now. And if you didn’t want to do this for yourself, then, well... you would do it for them.

“You don’t have to decide now, but-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice slices through Taehyung’s words. “I’ll go to therapy.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”, Hoseok questions. Though he wants you to very badly, he wants you to do it on your own terms. And though your statement is strong, he can see the doubt and uncertainty swimming in your irises.

“No, not really.” you whisper, and they practically deflate so you are quick to remedy their dejection.

“But...I know that I want to get better. I know it’s going to be hard, but I want to get better.” You take a deep breath.

“For you. All of you.”

The room falls silent, and the noise of clinking cutlery against porcelain plates stills. They could only look at you and wonder what country they have saved in their past lifetime to deserve to stumble upon someone like you. Someone so wonderful, and so damaged but so determined to heal. For them. For all of them.

Jungkook scoops your hand in his, and when you look in his eyes, you are stunned to see that there are unshed tears pooling at his waterline. He looks at you and there’s something in his gaze that you can’t place. Something lovely that makes you feel like all this hurt has been worth it. Jungkook looks at you like there is something worth looking at.

“We love…” From your other side, Jimin starts speaking, but cuts himself off halfway through and suspiciously glances around the table, meeting the gaze of the six other boys who already know how he wants to finish that sentence. But he doesn’t.

“W-We love that you want to do that for us”, he coughs, and you return it with a smile.

Did a part of you want him to say something different? Something deeper? You’re not sure, but the tinge of disappointment in your stomach that follows his words is a sign.

Could you allow yourself to think that someone could actually genuinely like you past platonicity? Much less seven powerful men? After years of your father telling you the complete opposite, accompanying each scathing word with a bruise, it’s difficult to believe anything different.

Therapy was, in a word, completely exhausting. It was tiring dancing around the subject of your father’s abuse, your mother’s neglect, Soyeon’s blatant denial and just the complete package of being the eldest daughter to Ambassador Yoo. When they all had scheduled you for 4 sessions a week, you immediately wanted to decline and opt for one. But their eyes had all looked so hopeful. So excited for you to get professional help, and there was no possible way you could have turned them down.

Progress is frustratingly slow, though. Some days you just want to quit.

You plop unceremoniously on the large plush sofa, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and cradling it to your chest. The boys are all in the other room, but are now fully aware of your presence after you slammed the front door and huffed your way to the comforting couch. They can practically feel the rays of stress emanating from you.

“Y/N? Baby? What’s wrong?” Jimin is the one that first approaches, and the rest stare on with concern leaking out of every pore. And when you reply with a sniffle and hiccup, their hearts all collectively break.

You feel a dip in the couch and crane your neck to lock your teary eyes with Jimin’s, whose brows are deeply furrowed. You involuntarily launch into his arms, tucking your face into his neck, and inhaling his cologne that always manages to calm you down. You hear them all shuffle around you.

“It’s just..”, your voice pitifully cracks, “hard.” From your position, they are thankful you cannot see the heartbreak in their expression. It’s so hard for them to see you as anything but happy.

“I don’t know if I can do it”, you breathe out, feeling a new wave of tears begin to rise. You want to cry even more at the thought that they would be more disappointed in you. .

But there is a warmth from your other side, and you don’t know who it belongs to as it sits next to you.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N”, Namjoon whispers oh-so-softly. They are such simple words. Arguably mundane and ordinary. Then why does it knock the wind right out of your chest? Why does it light up your dark tunnel? He’s proud of you. They all are. Even when you are an emotional mess with low mental energy, Namjoon is sitting next to you and telling you that he’s proud.

You erupt into heart wrenching sobs that won’t seem to stop no matter what you do. It’s the kind of cry that feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A cry that comes straight from your core and it sounds painful but truthfully, it’s just relieving. You know that all of them are worried out of their minds. You can feel it in the way Jimin shakily holds you as tight as he can, as if you are delicate chipped porcelain in his arms.

But this is how you rebuild. With the seven of them by your side. You tell Namjoon to cancel your future therapy sessions the next day. Your psychologist was far short of revolutionary, and when they all asked you why, you admit that it’s not the therapy that’s helping you get better.

It was just them. Being around them. Talking to them.

It was Seokjin carding his hands through your hair and rubbing out the tension that always inevitably develops in your temples. It was Namjoon letting you lounge quietly in his office as he goes through paperwork, enjoying your presence as much as you enjoy his. It was Yoongi and Hoseok rambling to you about their adventures on the field (leaving out the gory details, of course. They wanted to keep you innocent and soft). It was Taehyung sneakily replacing your pink peonies as soon as the first petal began to wilt, even after the infinite amount of times you told him it was unnecessary. It was Jungkook and Jimin making excuses to spend the afternoon snuggled up on your bed when you all knew it was simply because they wanted to hold you.

It was all of them tiptoeing around affection, craftily sneaking in spare kisses and touches on the skin. Holding you a little longer than necessary, a little more tenderly. Intertwining your hands under the dinner table, or when their subordinates weren’t looking.

You notice the way they blush more often, if you let your touch linger for too long, or if you brush past them and make skin contact. You notice how pet names are easier to spill from their lips; ones like: my love, honey, sweetheart, baby...and you can’t help but to completely indulge in the way it is addressed only for you. Little ways to subliminally tell you that perhaps you meant more to them than they were ready to admit. And you would be lying if you said your feelings for the seven of them were completely platonic. You would be lying if you said love wasn’t on the brain.

Perhaps you are the missing piece to a puzzle they hadn’t realized was unfinished.

“Hyung...I think I love her.” Jungkook is unsurprisingly the first one to voice it. The six others don’t even bat an eye.

“No, Jungkook. I know you love her”, Hoseok whispers back in the tense silence of their meeting room. You are fast asleep on the floor above, but their hearts call out to you through the short distance.

“I am too. We all are.” It is a truth they’ve known for a while. Sooner than they’re proud to admit.

“I guess now all we have to do is figure out how to tell her.”

They did want to. Tell you, that is. They wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make it known to the world that you are the angel that has snatched their hearts without even realizing it herself. If it hadn’t been for the disaster that suddenly struck their mafia, the boys would have already bared their souls to you. But timing was never kind.

Bangtan were not known to be gullible. Not known to be easily fooled. So when Taehyung ran into their meeting room, red-faced and clenching his fists so hard they turned white, the Judas in their gang had come as a scathing surprise.

One of their inner circle. Someone they had poured their trust and faith into, who had learned the system of their syndicate, had been a mole the entire time. Of course, they had disposed of him quickly, but the damage had already been done to their business. Allies and affiliates were backing away from collaboration in fear that Bangtan had been breached by law enforcement. Shipments were going missing more frequently, and even the lower hierarchies of their gang were beginning to become doubtful. To say the least, the seven of them were under debilitating stress and frustration.

Nowadays, things were different than before. You were mostly kept in the dark about their business but you knew that something had happened. Something to make them so wound up, and it worried you to no end. It’s impossible not to notice how tense the house had become.

Taehyung no longer stops by your room late at night, and in the early hours of the morning, you can still hear the frustrated clacking of his keyboard from next door. Not that you needed him to help you through your nightmares, but...you’ve gotten used to his comforting presence next to you.

Jungkook doesn’t seek you out for random conversations, and Namjoon just completely disappears in his office most days, not sparing you a single glance when he does manage to show his face outside. He locks the door now. You take it as a strong message that you are no longer welcome, and it upsets you, but you understand they are going through a rough patch. Your job is to be the least bothersome person you could possibly be.

But Yoongi just flat out ignores you now, and you know Hoseok pretends to care about whatever topic of conversation you bring up. You can see right through his empty affirmations and nods. The kitchen is completely void of Jin, and there are no more clanging pots and pans when you try to cook for yourself. And Jimin is just like the rest of them: absent and indifferent to your presence.

You know that it’s not you. The problem on their plate is bigger than you, but it still feels like you are a walking, breathing burden. You know that it’s not you, but your mind tells you they don’t want you here anymore. They’re sick of you.

Two weeks pass by, and they’re still so cold even after all your attempts at trying to be calming comfort in their chaotic lives. They still talk to you, but it’s strictly refrained to small talk that feels obligatory and like they have better things to do than spend time with you. They’re so busy that you often find yourself hanging out alone in the garden or making light conversation with the maids, or gang rookies that hang around the mansion.

And it hurts to admit, but they don’t notice when you begin to regress to your old behavior. They don’t notice when you begin to flinch at anything that moves too quickly again, or the way you begin spacing out more than usual when you delve too far into your thoughts. They don’t notice when your nightmares start worsening again, too busy in their pooling stress to hear you toss and turn late at night and emerge from your bedroom with red, sunken eyes in the morning. You are relapsing into the learned behavior from your father, and you are terrified to admit it to yourself. But after a particularly bad day of anxiety and panic attacks, you put your fear aside to talk to the boys again about going back to therapy. It was virtually pointless, but you won’t let the seven of them take the brunt of your mental health when they had so much going on already.

You timidly make your way down to the lower level of the mansion, slow footsteps leading you to their meeting room, where they’re all engrossed in their work and you can feel the tension choking the air. None of them notice your presence at first, until you cough to get their attention. They all snap their heads up and stare.

“Hey, could I um..talk to you guys for a couple minutes?”

You feel like a specimen under a microscope. You used to be so comfortable talking to them. Now it just feels unnatural.

“Can it wait, Y/N? We’ve just lost another shipment, and it’s a big one”, Yoongi grumbles from his seat, rifling through a tall stack of papers with a permanent crease in his brows.

“Okay, then when can we-”

“We’re just really busy right now.”

Jungkook doesn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. He probably didn’t even pay attention to it, but it makes you flinch and stumble backwards. Makes you melt more into the girl you used to be. The one who stayed quiet out of survival, diminishing under the authority of a loud voice with cruel intentions. You know he doesn’t mean to do it. But you can’t help but see the face of your father again, and those long-healed scars seem to re-flicker with pain.

Still, these were your boys. So you push on.

A deep breath. “I was just thinking that maybe I could go back to-”

“Y/N, please. We don’t even have enough time to breathe. I’m sure whatever you need can be addressed later.”

The room falls into silence. Their message is loud and clear. And though it's painful to hear, it’s your own fault for exaggerating your place in their lives. He was right, it could be addressed later...you were just being a bother.

“Right. Sorry.” Your halfhearted mutter falls deaf on their ears. They haven’t spared you a single ounce of attention, eyes still glued onto their work. You swallow down the heavy feeling in your throat and force the tears away. Why does your chest feel like someone’s twisted up your heart?

You’re always so sensitive, Y/N. Such a crybaby. You can’t even take care of yourself.

The tread upstairs back to your bedroom feels like an arduous journey as you try to hold yourself together and pretend like their actions hadn’t hurt you. But they weren’t responsible for your trauma. Your problems. You couldn’t blame them for not making it a priority, when their empire was threatened.

They don’t hear you that night when you hold a goose-feather pillow to your chest and sob out the fear of being unwanted again. They don’t show up at your bedroom door when you wake yourself up from crying through a nightmare.

You’ll figure it out yourself, with or without a therapist and with or without depending on them. From now on, you decide to make yourself invisible, focusing all your energy on dragging yourself out of the dark place you’re stuck in once again. So if you have to suffer in silence for their sake, so that they don’t have another insignificant loose end to worry about, you’ll do it. It’s the least you can do.

But you’d come to learn that those words are easier said than done.

“Miss Y/N?” There is a light knock at your door, and the soft voice of the maid barely penetrates through the thick wood. You remember her name was Jun. The noise goes through in one ear and out of the other, and you can’t even find it in yourself to reply.

“You haven’t left your room in two days. I was just...making sure you’re okay.”

Her statement shocks you out of your dazed stupor, and you hadn’t even realized the amount of time you spent staring into space, limp on your mattress.

It was getting harder. To just function and drag yourself out of your bedroom so you didn’t, and two days unknowingly passed. But to you, they only felt like hours. Time passes by differently when you’re blindly navigating through trauma.

It’s hard to sit up and slowly tread to the door, and your bones ache after not moving for so long. When you open it, guilt pools in your stomach to see her worried expression. Though you can guess why she looks so concerned. You’re a complete disaster.

“Oh, honey…”, she sighs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “here. Let’s get you into some fresh clothes.”

You mindlessly let her help you out of your days old T-shirt and sweats, mindlessly let her guide you into the shower and turn on the water, mindlessly let her rub shampoo into your scalp. You don’t even have the energy to open your mouth and tell her the water’s too cold. You’re still stuck inside your own thoughts, and you can only hear your father’s voice in your ear as he repeatedly affirms how worthless you are. Useless Y/N, that’s what he would say. Good-for-nothing Y/N.

You’ve somehow gotten it into your head that the reason why they’ve been so absent with you is because they don’t know to tell you they want you to leave. After all, staying in the Bangtan mansion was only supposed to be a temporary solution. Maybe this is how they kick you out.

When Jun wraps you in a fluffy towel and drags you out from underneath the showerhead, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are sunken, and the dark circles under your eyes look almost painful. And somewhere along with that reflection is the image of your father. His angry face, glaring at you and screaming why you let yourself get like this.

“Jun, have they…are they still busy?” Her eyes widen at the first words she’s heard from you, but there is sad sympathy on her face in a split second and you’ve already gotten your answer before she can say anything.

“Yes, dear. The bosses are very occupied. But they can always make time for you, hm? They care about you a lot, you know.” Jun’s statement makes you frown, but you don’t retort. Maybe you used to think that they cared, but now it just felt like their kindness was out of obligation. They felt guilty for sending you back to your father. Or perhaps they used to care for you. But now...you weren’t so sure.

When she manages to get you downstairs, in the kitchen, and set you in front of a bowl of soup, the boys are nowhere to be found. Jun tells you they’re out doing business and you tell yourself you’re not hurt that they hadn’t even noticed your absence for the past two days.

They’re just roped up in other things, that’s all.

After your shower and meal, Jun insisted that you take a stroll around the garden, and specifically instructed you to check out the new peony bush she had just planted. She mentioned it was per request of the seven bosses, but you had a hard time believing any of them would be concerned with something like that during this time. They hadn’t even made the time to talk to you.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to be outside and breathe in fresh air until you stepped out into the grassy space. Even though the solitude was getting to be too much, you were experiencing a newfound peace that you wanted to keep for as long as possible. Jun was right, and the peony bush was absolutely gorgeous. You actually feel like an alive and functioning human being. It was surprising that you were so dependent on the boys that without them, falling apart was inevitable. But now you were coherent and not so drowned in your toxic mentality (you’ll have to thank Jun profusely later), and you feel determined to talk to them again. About going back to therapy, no matter how useless it felt back then, and try to get on your own two feet. Now that you had seen and felt how serious it was, you wouldn’t be so complicit if they tried to silence you.

From over the tall hedges, the sounds of wheels rolling on gravel could be heard before the tense slams of car doors. The sound of Jungkook and Namjoon’s low muttering falls on your ears and though it sparks excitement inside you, you’re also fearful of what they might say. You don’t think you can handle another swift rejection like last time. Their indecipherable conversation ceases when you hear the entrance doors close, and seal them inside while you are still out here in your own world.

The white peony that’s cupped in your hand feels so fragile and soft that you don’t want to touch it anymore. It makes you think of them. Of how delicate it feels recently and how you’re so deathly afraid of them changing their minds one day and kicking you out with nowhere to go. Maybe you’ll just wander around again. There’s a distant cousin in the states also, but you’d have to figure out how to get out of the country without alerting your father. You shake yourself out of your intrusive thoughts.

No way your boys would do that to you.

Right?

The way back from the garden to the house is brief, but your anxiety about talking to them lengthens the trips and the feet feel like miles. You are wrapped up in your thoughts the entire way, and when you make your way into the house, you almost don’t notice the angry voices that are bouncing off the walls. It sounds like Taehyung is yelling, and the sound curdles your stomach. You hate it when people yell. It just reminds you of your father.

You follow the commotion to the kitchen, extra cautious and apprehensive. The sheer volume of their reprimanding seems to shake the house and your hands begin to quiver as you get closer. Peeking out from behind a wall, their backs are to you but you can see the face of a sheepish boy who hangs his head, gaze glued to the floor as the seven men continue to berate him. You recognize him as one of the newer members that was initiated a couple weeks ago; you’ve talked to him a couple times and he was never anything but courteous. He looks like he’s about to cry and it makes your heart ache.

Your attention pans back to the seven out of shock. The only time you’ve seen them this angry was at the meeting with your father, so you can only imagine what that young boy has done to land himself in this position.

“I told you a fucking million times too many, Lee. I told you to check in with the shipments as soon as they arrived in Myeongdong. So imagine my fucking surprise when I get a call notifying me that they’re all missing. Stolen.” Namjoon’s voice cuts straight through the room. His fists are clenched and even from the back, you can tell the expression on his face is one of scalding fury.

A shipment? They’re this infuriated over a shipment?

“I-I’m sorry, Boss. Please, I...please forgive me. I know it’s no excuse but I’m new here, a-and I swear this will not happen again.” He shrinks into himself and you quietly whimper in sympathy.

Yoongi humorlessly chuckles. “You swear? The only valuable thing you have to swear on is your life. And even that’s not worth much.”

It’s moments like these that you forget how cruel and ruthless they can be. They’ve always been so soft and gentle with you before, you forget they are mafia bosses overseeing an entire empire. That they’ve gotten here for a reason. You forget that people fear them. But you remember now.

Lee stays silent and still refuses to look up, but you can see the way his knees shake uncontrollably. He is one person standing up against 7 huffing bulls, so angry they can’t see straight so if you - tiny and meek you - has to be the one to come to his defense, so be it.

Because you’ve been that person going head to head with a bull. You see yourself, terrified and regretful, in Lee. And you’ll be damned if you have to watch and not do anything about it. Your heart beats thunderously in your chest but you push past the fear.

Their heads all snap up in surprise when you march into the kitchen and stand in between them and the boy, who looks even more painfully young up close and sporting that deer-in-the-headlights expression. You lock gazes with each of them, swallowing your nerves before speaking.

“Is it really that big of a deal to yell at him like this? Look at him”, you gesture to the cowering person behind you, “don’t you think he’s had enough?” Your voice is still soft, and such a contrast to their angry ones. But it seems like your gentle tone just makes them even angrier, and snaps them out of their initial shock.

“A big deal? He cost us thousands in shipments! I’d say that’s a pretty big fucking deal to me, Y/N.” Jungkook bursts out, exasperatedly running his hands through his hair and looking at you with an angry frown. You flinch at his volume. The stress on their shoulders is more apparent than ever.

“Why are you defending him, Y/N? You don’t even know who he is”, Jimin spits, growing even more irritated. There’s a hint of jealousy in his words and it’s so subtle that you don’t even notice it.

“I know that he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like this for a little mistake. One that I’m sure he is regretful of making.” It suddenly feels daunting when you realize that you’re going up against all of them, and now, they’re all staring at you with the same anger that was meant for the one that messed up their shipments.

“And what if that mistake is a sign that he’s traitorous? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised. Seems like that’s a trend going around here.” From behind you, Lee is quick to open his mouth and begin to protest, but you interrupt and speak strongly. It seems this disciplining session has morphed into a full blown argument between you and them.

“It was one person. I get that it’s shitty, and I’m sorry it happened. I understand that you have to be on watch now and extra cautious. I do.” You sigh, a pleading look in your eyes but they remain stone cold.

“But one person did that. Are you going to treat everyone like they betrayed you? Are you going to treat me like I betrayed you?”

“I don’t know Y/N, you were so quick to defend him. Maybe you did. I wouldn't put it past you.”

Taehyung’s words run through you like a hot knife to butter. You almost stagger back at the shock. You’re no stranger to hurtful words but when they are coming out of his mouth, it hurts tenfold. How could they think you would betray them?

They promised to trust you, didn’t they? They promise they’d believe you after they failed to the first time. Now it just feels like you’re that spoiled little rich girl again in their eyes, standing in front of them and pleading your innocence.

“W-what? No, I-”

“You know nothing about our world, Y/N. You can’t possibly understand.” Jin’s silver voice is colder than you’re ever heard it.

“I know that, but could you just please-”

“As a matter of fact, this is a mafia business matter”, Yoongi shoots, poisoned words designed to hurt.

“I’m not sure why you’re here at all, Y/N. Just leave.”

Gone is the strong persona that you had put up to protect this young boy. Gone is the confident woman who thought she had the will to stand up for herself, much less someone else. You can only keep your eyes glued to Yoongi, and hope that he doesn’t see your heart crumbling right in front of him. How had he aimed mindlessly at your insecurities, and shot a bullseye into the biggest one?

Maybe you did, Y/N. I wouldn’t put it past you.

Blame it on the blurriness through your tears or the sheer shock running through your veins, but you can’t find one smidgen of regret or guilt in his expression. On any of their faces. Just anger and annoyance, aimed directly at you. And suddenly the spacious mansion feels all too suffocating.

You know nothing about our world Y/N.

The words you plan to say die on the tip of your tongue, as quickly as they came. There is nothing that comes out and in the aching silence of it all, the way you maintain eye contact with each of them speaks volumes. Yet they are blind to the way you are ripping at the seams, and oblivious to the turmoil they are putting you through. The coldness of their gaze and words shoot through your core, like a blade of ice piercing through your heart.

I’m not sure why you’re here at all.

Just leave.

In short, right at this moment, they look like strangers. Strangers who know what scares you, what foods you don’t like, your favorite flowers, your favorite color. Strangers who have seen your heart, welcomed it, and who were now crushing it in front of you.

What a fool you were to think that they could reciprocate your feelings.

What a fool you were to think that they wanted you as much as you wanted them.

Your pained chuckle is a discordant sound in the tense quiet. Their stares burn on your skin and though you are trying so hard to now show how utterly broken you feel, you wonder if they even notice. when you look back into the eyes of the boy directly in front of you, he is still so angry and red you find it hard to believe anything but your alleged cold, hard truth:

The seven boys you have fallen in love with utterly despise you. Perhaps they always have.

“Yeah”, you whisper brokenly. “Maybe I will.”

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thebadgerclan · 3 years

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SFW Alphabet: Lucius Malfoy

Requested by Anonymous

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Lucius is a very affectionate man, always wanting you to know just how loved and adored you are. He’s almost always holding your hand or has an arm around your shoulders, or both. When you’re alone at home, Lucius will hold you in his lap, pressing kisses all over your face.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Lucius has very few people who he considers friends, Severus being among them. But having him as a friend, you’re never alone on anything. Lucius will stand by your side through anything, acting as a confidant and a shoulder to lean on whenever you need it. If you need some sway with the Ministry, he’s more than willing to help you there too.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Lucius adores cuddling: having you in his arms, holding you close, it’s one of his favorite things. When the two of you are alone, he likes to have you in his lap as the two of you read or just spend time together. Lucius is always the big spoon, with you either facing him or with your back to his chest. He also likes it when he’s on his back and you’re tucked into his side or lying on top of him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) Lucius does want to settle down with you, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. You already own his heart, he knows that there’s no other woman for him, so he sees no reason not to settle down with you. He’s already got the massive manor, but if you want to move somewhere smaller, he’s already signing the deed. Lucius is shit at cleaning, he’s had house elves for his entire life, but he can cook pretty well. He doesn’t do so very often, but sometimes, when he wants to surprise you, he’ll shoo the elves from the kitchen and cook you a romantic dinner (he has to call them back because he has no clue where stuff is, but he does cook the meal)

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) It would break his heart into a million pieces to end things with you, but if he had to, Lucius would put on the icy, cold, unapproachable exterior he shows to everyone but you. “This can’t go on, Y/N,” he says, feeling ill with himself. “We’re done. I’m sorry, it’s over.”

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Lucius most certainly wants to marry you, and now that Narcissa’s out of the picture, he can. You’re together for about a year or so before he gets you a ring, and as soon as the little box is in his hand, he’s planning a super romantic evening for you. After a 5 star meal, complete with champagne and dessert, he gets on one knee and asks you to marry him.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) He may seem like a cold, cruel man, but around you, he is the gentlest, kindest, warmest man you’ve ever met. Lucius is such a gentle man around you, treating you like a fawn (and fawning [pun not intended] over you as one does a baby deer), always being tender and gentle. Emotionally, he’s such a sweetie, never raising his voice at you. I won’t say he never gets angry with you, because he’s human, but he tries not to.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Lucius likes hugs, though you’re usually the one to initiate them. He prefers to be able to hold you for longer periods of time, and as hugs are usually short lived, they’re not his favorite. Don’t get me wrong, he loves it when you hug him, he loves any form of physical intimacy with you, he just prefers cuddling. That being said, his hugs are strong, he squeezes you tight against him, sometimes knocking the wind out of you. He’ll rest his chin on your head, and kiss you sweetly when he pulls away.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Lucius waits until he’s 100% certain of his feelings for you, more for your benefit than his. He doesn’t want to rush into telling you he loves you if he thinks he might walk back on it (that’s very unlikely, but he wants to be sure). After 5ish months, when you’re away for a week and Lucius feels physical pain in his chest for missing you, that’s when he knows he loves you. The first words out of his mouth when you return are “I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything else in this world, and I will always love you.”

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Lucius is a VERY jealous man, you are his and his alone, no one else gets to have you. If he sees someone looking at you a little too long, making eyes at you, hitting on you, or making you uncomfortable in any way, he’s at your side immediately. Lucius will pull you into his side, arm tight around your shoulders or waist, grey eyes staring daggers at whoever dared to speak to you. “Are you alright, my dear?” As soon as you’re alone, Lucius will kiss you hard, usually pushing you against a wall, snarling “Mine.”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Lucius is a very skilled kisser, he knows how to convey every single emotion just by pressing his lips to yours. He’ll pull you fluff against him, arms around your middle; one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other either on your back or ass. He likes to kiss your lips, obviously, but he also loves kissing your forehead, neck, hands, chest, and thighs. He likes being kissed on the lips, again, obviously, on the cheeks, the chin (because that might be all you can reach), hands, shoulders, basically anywhere.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) I HC that Lucius played a massive role in raising Draco, so I think he’s pretty good with kids. Kids that aren’t his tend to get on his nerves a little, but his own kids, man, they’re the moon and the sun to him. He adores his own children to no end, and if you want to have kids with him, Lucius is more than happy to be a father again.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Lucius gets up early most mornings, so he’s not always there when you get up. But there’s always a cup of coffee/tea/whatever you like on the nightstand under a stasis charm, usually with a little love note under the cup. On the days he can sleep in a bit, you wake with Lucius wrapped around you (he’s wrapped around you every morning, you’re just awake for it this time). He’ll gently kiss you awake, smiling when you open your eyes. “Good morning, my love.”

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Nights and evenings are quiet intimate affairs between the two of you. Evenings usually entail a private, often romantic dinner before the two of you retire to the sitting room. Lucius will usually hold you on his lap or have you tucked into his side. You either read together, talk about your day, or watch a movie (Lucius has a home theatre type setup, fight me). When it gets late, he’ll lead you up to the master bedroom where you usually share a bath or shower (which can lead to sex), before going to bed, you held close to Lucius’ chest.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Once Lucius is sure and comfortable in your relationship, he’ll start to reveal things about himself. Not all at once, more like when you ask him questions, but he won’t hide things from you once he’s comfortable.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Lucius has a temper, but he keeps it in check with you. You do make him angry sometimes, but it’s never long lasting, and it never gets physical. He might brood in his study for a little bit, but after an hour or so he’ll come out and apologize for being a bear.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) At the beginning of your relationship, Lucius is so dedicated to remembering every little thing about you, he actually keeps a little journal. It’s filled with random things that you’ve said on your early dates, things like “Favorite color: blue, Hogwarts house: Y/H, had three dogs as a child: Kelly, Mary, and Pepper.” Obviously, he doesn’t need it after a while, but he still has the journal in his bedside table. The last addition he made was: “Likes princess cut diamonds, jeweler on 5th has wide selection.”

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) Lucius’ favorite memory of you is the first time the two of you had dinner with Draco. The only thing more important to him than you was Draco liking you. After Lucius had escorted you back home, he returned to the Manor where Draco was waiting. “So?” Lucius asked, pacing nervously. Draco just smiled. “I like her, Father. She’s not Mother, but I like her.” He was so happy to hear that his son liked you, he couldn’t sit still for hours.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) He’s very protective, Lucius wants and needs to know that you’re safe at all times. He’ll never stop you from doing something or going somewhere, but if there’s potential for you to get hurt, he’s either going with you or putting measures in place to make sure you’re safe. Lucius loves you more than anything or anyone, he can’t bear the thought of losing you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) This man has the resources to make you feel like royalty every single day, so you’d better believe that Lucius goes all out on dates and anniversaries. Fancy restaurants, expensive wine and food, and anniversaries and gifts are on a whole nother level. Trips to Paris, Athens, Madrid, anywhere you’ve ever dreamed of going, Lucius will take you there. His gifts are usually very expensive, diamond earrings, necklaces, bracelets, designer clothes, but they can also be sentimental: a book you’ve had your eye on for a while, candy from Honeydukes he knows you like.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Lucius can be a bit narcissistic, very self centered. He sometimes gets so wrapped up in his own head that he forgets that he has a girlfriend who wants and needs his attention. He always feels so guilty afterwards, apologizing profusely to you. He usually ends up surprising you with a fancy dinner or seducing you into be to show you how much he loves you

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Have you seen the man? Lucius cares about his appearance, like, a lot. At the beginning of your relationship, he refused to spend the night with you, solely because he didn’t want you to see him when he work up; with bedhead and morning breath

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Yes, you’ve stolen his heart, and Lucius cannot live without you. When he was away for a week on Ministry business, he felt like a shell of himself, like part of him was missing. You feel the same, hating when you’re away from him for too long. The thought of leaving him forever makes you feel sick, but Lucius is quick to reassure you that he’s yours forever.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Lucius has a very in depth skincare routine, and if he misses or skips a night, he’s blotchy in the morning

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner? Lucius can’t be with someone who can’t be serious. Of course, he loves it when his girl lets loose and laughs, but in more serious situations, he needs her to be serious. He’s all for being laid back and just having fun, but he feels there’s a time and a place for that versus being serious and sophisticated.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Lucius puts lavender oil on his pillow to help him fall asleep. He has a bit of insomnia, and it takes that or 4-5 rounds of sex to knock him out

#lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter reader insert

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nafeary · 4 years

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Napoleon, Theodorus, and le Comte’s Reaction to MC saying “I love you” first

Anon asked:

Hey there! I really like all the stuff on your blog, so could you do the suitors reactions to you saying I love you for the first time (like, if the route plots didn’t really happen). If all of them are too much, maybe just Napoleon, Theo and Comte. Maybe also include a little scenario? Thanks in advance.

✧✎ A/N: Heya, sweetest anon! Thank you so much for this request (and for including three of the daddy line), this was really fun to do~

Theo’s got... slightly longer than the others (almost a whole scenario by itself whoops). Don’t worry Napoleon. I have a WIP of yours. Thanks @juminly and @delicateikemenmemes for helping me out with Theo, and @marie-quentin for giving me a quick crash course in French. Drink water, y’all :))))

Warnings: slight suggestiveness, and implied sexual activities.

Napoleon Bonaparte

Pardon? Could you run that by him again?

It had been a morning like any other, welcoming the culprit who’d come to wake him up with his wonted kisses

However, this time around, he hadn’t met an interfering hand—which was by far his favored option. The other ones entailed pillows, fists, and even a certain someone’s foil

So when he met lips, molding together with his like a familiar imprint, he immediately shook off his fatigue, surprised to see his lover before him

His astonishment didn’t stem from the kiss itself (as you’ve done way more than just that), but you’ve never indulged in his habit before

Not only that, but it felt so much more...

Intimate. Passionate. Amorous...

Romantic. Purely romantic.

Your hands rose to his cheeks, cupping them in an ever so gentle embrace. Feeling almost weightless within your gentle expression, he sighed in the intimate comfort only one’s other half could provide.

“‘Leon?” The most idyllic melody made his eyes open, blinking a few times to adjust to the sun’s flaxen rays. He had to halt a few moments, for as his eyes managed to adjust, the golden glow hugging your form truly made you appear out of this world.

“Yes, nunuche?” Your loving and tender gaze almost made him melt, and it was a miracle that his question sounded as nonchalant as he was hoping for it to be.

“I love you.”

Napoleon couldn’t help the pounding of his heart. In all his years, no one had ever managed to make him feel so precious. Of course, he’s had his previous lovers, but as you stood before him like an angel of fortune, holding his head up in a pretense of it being the most wondrous diamond...

He couldn’t help the laughter spilling from his lips. At your affronted expression, he pulled you to his side, your cheek squished against his neck. Closing your eyes against his laughter’s shock waves—tens on the Richter scale—you couldn’t prevent the pout from conquering face.

Napoleon halted his laughter, although not completely, and his arms cocooned your midriff to lean in. Your toes curled as his lips brushed your ear.

“Je t’adore, nunuche.”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You might have to bring him to Isaac or Leonardo to fix, because you’ve completely broken this guy

He always expected to say it first, so he’s kinda mad??? But also really touched??? Fix him, please

It was no secret that Theodorus Van Gogh considered himself to be very domineering

Not because he wants the other person to feel save and protected... it was simply due to convenience pssst don’t tell him

Of course, he found it more than endearing when his girlfriend took the leash from time to time, and he genuinely enjoys her initiations of affection

Everyday, it took Theo all the self control he could muster up not to break into a smile at the sight of you, not to pick you up and whirl you around, not to throw you over his shoulder to carry you to his room...

Anyway, if you were to tell him the famous three words first, he’d be pure molasses in your hands

“Do you need more syrup, Theo?”

While the amount of liquid gold suggested the attendance of the entire mansion, it was only himself and his lover at breakfast. You had risen later than usual (due to certain nightly activities), and Sebastian was so kind as to allow you a day off.

“We’ll see,” he murmured, nevertheless thanking you when you brought him more with a disbelieving snort.

As you ate breakfast in the kitchen, not wanting to bother yourselves with setting everything up in the dining hall, he did not let your “inconspicuous” array of glances go unnoticed. Whenever he caught your eyes, you’d quickly avert your own, a faint blush dusting your skin. Perplexity marred his mind at your bashful actions.

Just when you stood up to do the dishes, he grabbed your arm, turning you around to trap you successfully underneath his form. Bewildered, you squirmed in his grasp, but that only made him pin your wrists in place. While this might not be your first time in this particular position, you could still only huff at his stern expression. “What did I do now? Do you always have to—“

“Quit your yapping, Hondje. Is there something on my face, or why do you keep on staring at me?” he spoke, as blunt and stoic as ever.

You chastised yourself— should have been aware that nothing could escape his detail-oriented eyes. Nonetheless, there was something... disparate about this morning: the hushed words of devotion, the warmth of nonchalant pecks—dare you say, it was almost domestic. It caused feelings of joy and felicity to ignite in your chest, and a certain sentence to cross your mind.

“...I love you, Theo.”

It was apparent that he’d been caught off-guard, a hand flying up to cover a short fit of coughing. And as his grip on you faltered, you flung your arms around his neck, urged by both embarrassment and closure.

“Y—you. Gadver...”

“Have I rendered the great Theodorus Van Gogh speechless?” You couldn’t help the teasing remark; eager to see his flushed expression, you peeled yourself out of the embrace. However, just as swift as he had faltered, his iron grip on you toughened once again, this time around closing the proximity to an intimate distance.

“Have you finally lost what little sense you had before?” His tone’s giddiness betrayed the harshness of his words, despite his best attempts to suppress that. As you tried to focus on anything apart from his breath caressing your neck, you espied the brilliant blush raging on his cheeks.

Deciding not to comment on his obvious joy, you pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Don’t you have to punish me, then? I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.”

When you pulled back to look at you love, you were met with his wild cerulean orbs. You’ve heard of people comparing them to ice, but you likened them to the tropic’s water; it might look trifling at most, but once you dive in, it would tell tales of colourful facets. Just like a big misunderstanding, crying out to be revealed.

You couldn’t care less that you were in the kitchen, that anyone could walk in on you, as he pulled you closer to himself, your legs finding their way around his waist.

Comte de Saint-Germain

He’d definitely be shocked at first, widening his eyes at your forthcoming admittance

After all, these three words might seem minuscule to a lot, but they held enough power to truly cement a relationship

Whenever he looked at his chérie, he felt the need to tell them to you 24/7, but he reconsidered that it was only right to give you more time to grow accustomed to him (and his period)

After a few months of living together, and a solitary trip back to the past (which proved itself vain as his offer was declined once again), he resolved to tell her these fateful words

He heard his amour before he saw her, the sound of your steps hurrying down the staircase growing more and more pronounced. Ere he was able to turn around to greet you, you practically pounched onto him, fingers clasping by his waist as you embraced him from behind. You squeezed his middle section gently in an effort to breathe in his scent.

Shock subsiding, he enbosomed your hands with his own, having missed your warmth—your devotion—as it crowned him with more than the sun could ever wish to.

“I have something—“

“—to tell you.”

Both of you spoke up at the same time, prompting you to smile in delight. Hearing composed, albeit joyful, laughter spilling from your lover’s lips, followed by the incessant remark of ladies-first, you uttered the words you have been longing to say, “I love you.”

The gentle rising of his torso came to a sudden halt, and he twisted around to face you. He might not have been gone for too long, but you’d missed each other regardless.

You knew the feeling was mutual as his golden eyes burned with desire, his walls coming down bit by bit, exposing a rare sight of the count’s vulnerability. With his hands inching just above your lower hip, the not so innocent innuendo of their barely proper distance to your butt was duly noted.

“I’ve been hoping to tell you these words myself, ma moitié.” His mouth traced the shell of your ear, and you felt him smile against your skin—as gentle as flower petals, yet just as seductive. “Perhaps we could arrange my reciprocation in private?”

Tag list: @juminly, @kisara-16 (I totally forgot that you asked me to be tagged quite a while ago... I’m sorry (*´Д｀*))

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talas-starlight · 3 years

Text

Close to you - Azula x fem!reader

SUMMARY: When you visit Azula to help her wind down for the evening, she begins to wonder why you’re so affectionate towards her

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

WARNINGS: a lot of non-sexual touching? Kissing but like its not a lot tbh. Soft azula? Mentions of a lonely childhood? Also I didn’t proof read this HAHAHA

A/N: look imma be real honest,, the reader makes azula soft as fuck and if you want 100% on brand azula- this probably aint it for you oopS but looK I couldn’t help it!! She deserves the sweet lovin

Warm, orange tones of the steady fire lamps illuminate Azula’s face, and in this moment, she looks nothing short of peaceful. The sun has long set, and as she prepares to finally conclude her day, you can’t help but admire how beautiful she looks from your place at the doorway of her unnecessarily spacious room. She knows you’re there, of course; she knows you better than anyone, and you made it no secret as she heard the door softly click shut.

Your feet softly pad on the chilled floor, making your way to your love. She looks down at her lap, trying to look casual as she stalls her routine, which she could have easily had the servants rush through by now. Yet then again she wouldn’t have it any other way since she’s been ordering them to leave as soon as they finish washing her for the past four months. It’s the smallest of movements, but you can’t resist but smile fondly as she scoots forward on her oversized vanity stool for you to take your place behind her.

Adjusting your legs so that they’re on either side of her waist, you wrap them around her slightly so that she is closer to you, but not so close that its awkward or in the way. Making eye contact through the mirror before the both of you, you place a kiss to the side of her head before nodding softly. This prompts her to hand you the brush you’ve become quite accustomed to holding, soon beginning to through her long hair. To Azula, nothing feels more perfect than this. The warmth radiating from your body behind hers feels more like home than any other form of fire she’s ever experienced.

This isolated moment in her day is oh so precious as you slowly bring the brush from the top of her scalp down to its perfectly trimmed ends. It relaxes her unlike anything else. All of the pressure and subtle nudges to push her further than any other normal person alive simply washes away. To any unknowing onlooker, the current scene depicts everything but a usually pretentious princess and her love. The scene is nothing more than domestic bliss.

Finishing up the last section of her hair, you pass the brush back to her to be placed back on the vanity. Weaving your arms securely around her waist, you pull her back closer towards you. The closer proximity allowing you to place a kiss on her left shoulder before resting your chin upon it. Finding yourself comfortable, you move your gaze towards her bare face. Despite being as beautiful as ever, you know something has squeezed its way into her mind as her eyebrows come together in thought.

“What’s on your mind, love?”

Clearing her throat, she shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”

You sigh, “hmm... I’m sure it’s anything but nothing.”

Taking your left hand, you move the hair that’s made its way in front of her face to behind her ear before caressing her cheek. Briefly closing her eyes, she casts her gaze towards her lap.

“W- why are you so affectionate towards me?”

Eyebrows raising in surprise you’re unsure if you should be completely honest straight away or ease her into it. “Hmm… well, I suppose it’s because I’ve always been affectionate. I’ve always thought my love language might be physical touch.”

Unamused by your efforts to dim the truthfulness of your answer, she gives you a pointed look. “In all my years of knowing you y/n, not once have you been remotely as affectionate towards others as you have been towards me. So, you can either tell me the truth or I think it’s best we sleep separately tonight.”

Lips briefly coming together in a tight line, you nod, understanding that it’s best to tell her. She deserves honesty.

“The short answer is, I love you.”

Mouth hanging open ever so slightly at your confession, you continue, not allowing her to question it. “Growing up, I always seemed to be quite observant since I never had much courage to go out and interact with everyone like you did. Even after we became acquainted at the Academy, I never came out of my shell unless I was alone with someone. Clearly, you still remember. Anyway… what I’m getting at is, Zula, every day you walked into that Academy I noticed how different everyone treated you. Sure, it was understandable since you were the Princess, and they were terrified of hurting you in any way. But it broke my heart watching you arrive every single day and not get a hug or a kiss goodbye from anyone. Not even a sincere goodbye or letting you know they’ll miss you.”

Pausing for a moment, you take in how she’s processing all of this information. You’re unsure of how she feels about this. Her face is relaxed and neutral, yet you can’t help but feel slightly afraid that she thinks everything you’re saying is ridiculous. As a moment goes by and she still hasn’t said a word, you continue, unable to handle the tension that is starting to encompass the room.

“I- I… just couldn’t understand how anyone could possibly deserve to be treated like that Zula!” Breath hitching, you try to hold back a small sob. Reliving how heartbreaking it felt watching her have to go through that every single day tore you up inside.

“No one deserves that, so I promised myself. I promised that if you’d let me, I’d make up for everything and always be close to you. I’d hold you, even if it was just my pinkie locked with yours. I’d tell you how much I appreciate you. How I’ll miss you, even if you leave for just a day. I’d do all of it… Although, while I tend to do it more so out of love for you now, I still don’t want you to ever experience those things again.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you release your arms from around her waist to wipe away a few tears that are now making their way down your face. Yet before you’re able to do so, you feel her long, slender, fingers grasp around your wrists. Snapping your eyes open in surprise, Azula’s heart swells as she takes in your tear-filled eyes.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I love you.”

Overcome with emotion, despite being for different reasons, more silent tears fall. Leaning forward, Azula gently presses her lips to your fallen tears. “Don’t cry, my love.”

Leaning back, she takes the initiative to be physically closer to you, caressing your face in both of her hands. “I appreciate everything you do for me, more than anything.”

Breaking out a smile, you wrap your arms around her waist once again before pressing your lips softly against hers. Azula freezes for a moment, surprised, despite your tender approach. Both of your thoughts and worries dissipate as she allows herself to completely fall into the mind-reeling kiss. Melting into each other’s warmth, your bodies to rest against one another even further than they already were.

Soon, after a few moments, you pull away gently for some air, but only just enough to still rest your forehead against hers. With her cheeks flushed, Azula can’t help but smile. Her heart pounding in her chest, overjoyed in this moment with you. It felt like everything was right in the world. “With you y/n, I’ll never feel lonely again.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading!! i hope you liked it hehe - this was my first time writing azula so was kinda nervous tbh so hopefully it wasn’t crap lmaO - anywho! feel free to lmk what you think! hehe

tags: @kaylove12 @simpinforsukka @lozzybowe @firelordazulaaaa

my masterlist: here!

#azula #azula x reader #azula x fem! reader #azula x you #azula x y/n #princess azula #azula imagine #azula fic #atla #atla azula #avatar the last airbender #azula fluff #azula angst

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awritingtree · 4 years

Text

Here On Now and Forever

Sirius Black x reader

Summary: Y/N fondly remembers delivering some special news in response to Sirius’ proposal as she relaxes and listens to him fumbling around in their new home.

@weasleysflowr‘s 300 follower writing challenge: Fluff prompt 5. ““You’re an idiot” ... “I’m your idiot”” and miscellaneous prompt 5. “This is why we can’t have nice things.” The prompts have been bolded :)

Words: ~1.6k

Warnings: swearing, fluff, pregnancy, a bit of angst I think?

A/N: this is my first Sirius fic and I really do hope I did him justice. I originally wrote one the parts for a Fred Weasley fic but it fitted so perfectly in this one that I just had to include it (let’s see if you can guess which part this is - I had to adjust it to fit Sirius and his life). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy reading this xx

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Y/N had recently moved into a new cottage with her fiancé. The cottage was located on the edge of a lake, a dense forest surrounding the other side of the lake. The water washing over the shore and birds chirping in the forest provided a calming and soothing sound, one that was welcomed in the silence of the cottage when her fiancé was off on Auror missions. The cottage itself was small, enough for a small family of three, which is exactly the amount of people that would be dwelling in it in a few months.

On a particular day, a breeze that made the cornflower blue curtains in the living room fly was pleasant, creating the perfect atmosphere to sit near the window and watch the lake water wash ashore. That’s where Y/N was currently, with her eyes closed listening to Sirius move around in the kitchen, making some lunch for them both. Her hand was placed on her slightly swollen belly, as she fondly recalled when she told Sirius about their little future.

Y/N shoved her shaking hand into her coat, hoping the effortlessly beautiful raven-haired boy couldn’t feel the other hand shaking in his. How was she supposed to tell him this? Yes, they had been dating for approximately seven years, but they had never talked about kids. Starting their own family together had been a sensitive topic due to Sirius’ past with his own family. Y/N and Sirius had been out of Hogwarts for five years now. The war ended two years ago, You-Know-Who defeated at the hands of Dumbledore as Harry and Neville stayed hidden well for the first three years of their life. But still, Sirius had not shown any signs of proposing. Y/N had thought about doing it herself several times, but she knew this was a decision Sirius needed to make because it was him who had to decide, to commit, to the familial life which would not be easy for him due to his experiences.

Unbeknownst to her, Sirius could feel their intertwined hands shaking, but he mistook it as a reflection of his nerves. He wasn’t sure if he should carry out his plan. Would she want to start a life with him? Someone so broken, someone who never had a proper family until the Potters took him in. He had no idea if he was capable of providing Y/N the domestic life she deserved and wanted. He was known to fuck things up quickly. It was a surprise to him he hadn’t fucked anything up yet in their relationship (other than the time he almost lost her when he told Snape about how to make his way to Shrieking Shack on a full moon). What if this was the point where he did fuck up and lost Y/N for good? He couldn’t live without her. As absurd as it sounded, it was true. He could never imagine a life, a Sirius Black, without Y/N Y/L/N by his side.

“Ri, I need to tell you something,” Y/N said as she stopped in the middle of their walk through the park, her voice trembling.

“Before you do, I need to tell you something too. But let me go first because I don’t think I’ll have the courage if I wait any longer.”

Y/N was scared. Did he already know? Was he going to leave her? Wait, how did he know already? She knew she was very careful in making sure no one, and she meant no one, found out. Well except the Healer she visited in St. Mungo’s.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N didn’t see Sirius getting a small velvet black box from his pocket and kneeling down on one knee until his voice broke her out of her inner turmoil.

“Y/N/N. My love. The day I first met you, I never thought we would end up here. It took us three years to become friends and a year of subtle glances and dancing around each other before you asked me to accompany you on a date to Hogsmeade. Falling in love with you was sudden. It was like falling off the edge of a cliff and hitting the water below. Next thing I knew, I was drowning in you. The day I realized I was in love with you was the day I knew I wouldn’t feel such a love again. When we became friends, I knew it was a friendship I hoped would last as long as possible; but when I fell in love with you, I knew I wanted us to last a lifetime and hopefully longer than that. You are my other half, Y/N/N. You have shown me kindness and have always been patient with me no matter how reckless or brash I act. You have been by my side each time my mother has sent me a letter, held me through all of my panic attacks, and shown me what true love really is. I never thought I would ever have a family, that I would ever want a family with anyone. But you came along and changed everything; you make me want to have a family with you, a life with you. I want to be with you; from here on now and forever. So, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honour of giving me a lifetime and more by marrying me?”

Y/N gulped. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time, but now that it was here, she didn’t want it to be. Not when she was just about to tell him-

“I’m pregnant.”

The anxious grin fell off from an awaiting Sirius’ face. His eyes widened with shock as he stared at his girlfriend. Time passed but he did not move, he didn’t even blink. Y/n chewed on her bottom lip nervously, his lack of response not helping with slowing down her racing mind. ‘He really is going to leave you,’ she thought, holding in the tears that tried to run free. But as time went on, without the man kneeling in front of her showing any emotion, Y/N couldn’t hold down the fort any longer. Tears streamed down her face as her bottom lip quivered. She had assumed the worst; of course he didn’t want her around anymore, he wasn’t ready for this - maybe he didn’t even want this, a kid, a baby.

“I- I’m going to be a father?” Sirius whispered, finally breaking out of his state of shock.

Y/N nodded slowly, holding back a sob.

“I understand if you want nothing to do with him or her, nothing with us. I- we didn’t expect this. I won’t-,” Y/N took a deep breath, “No one will blame you if you decide to leave.”

Sirius quickly got up and cupped Y/N’s face between his hands. His silver-grey eyes, glistening with unshed tears, looked into her Y/E/C eyes.

“Never, my love. I could never leave you. I could never leave you, him or her. I can’t believe this. I- how long have you known?”

“A few days. I went to St. Mungo’s on Monday when I told you I was going to Diagon Alley to run some errands. I had my doubts for a while, the vomiting, the soreness and the fact that I was over two weeks late,” Y/N explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius asked softly.

“I didn’t know what your reaction would be. I still don’t exactly know what it is,” she said, a forced joking smile on her face. She was trying to diffuse the tension that still hung in the air from his silence, not very successfully though.

Sirius chuckled and leaned down pressing his lips against hers in a tender kiss.

“Like I said, my love. I want you from here on now and forever. And that includes our baby. I love you; I am never leaving.”

Y/N smiled widely through her tears and leaned forward to kiss the love of her life.

A loud crash snapped Y/N back to reality. She spun around to see a black dog transforming into her fiancé, a guilty expression adorning his handsome face. An overturned stand and broken flower vase lay on the floor next to him; water and wildflowers you’d freshly picked together this morning spilled over.

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” muttered Y/N.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I completely forgot we’d placed that there. We can get a new one. I’ll go right away and buy another one, one much prettier and more expensive than this. You’ll be glad I broke this. In fact, you’ll forget all about this one.”

Y/N shook her head slightly with an affectionate smile on her face, standing up and walking towards him, “What were you even doing as Padfoot? Weren’t you supposed to be making us lunch right now?”

“Well um,” started Sirius, grinning at her sheepishly as he wrapped his arms around her waist once she was close enough, “I thought I’d come and call you as Padfoot, as a surprise. You do seem to love him more nowadays since we found out about our little future here,” he slid one of his hands to lie gently on her stomach, “But I got a tad bit excited.”

“You’re an idiot,” said Y/N, looking at him endearingly, her arms moving from his forearms to wrap themselves around his neck.

“Maybe. But I’m your idiot,” Sirius countered cheekily.

Y/N laughed softly. She stood up on her tiptoes to steal a kiss from her fiancé.

“My idiot,” she whispered against his lips before pressing their lips together again in a sweet loving, yet passionate kiss.

“I love you,” she spoke quietly.

“I love you too, my love. From here on now and forever.”

“From here on now and forever.”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @angelinathebook @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes

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bvccy · 3 years

Text

Tenderness and Ferocity | 5. The Fourth Day

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Hydra!Reader Fic Synopsis: The Winter Soldier is starting to make stupid mistakes in the field, which is Bucky's way of trying to wrest back control and sabotage his handlers. Hydra brings a new doctor to figure out what's wrong with him and fix it. As she spends time with him, she becomes fond of the Winter Soldier, and he becomes fond of her. Bucky has other ideas. Or, a fic in which the Winter Soldier is the good guy and Bucky is actually the bad guy. Warnings for this chapter: Angst, Smut, and Dubcon (our boy receiving) Word count: 4171 Read on AO3: [link] [Previous Chapter] [Fic Masterlist] [Next Chapter]

"Man only plays when in the full meaning of the word he is a man, and he is only completely a man when he plays."

— Friedrich Schiller

He stepped in the room the next day and she was waiting for him, as always, sitting down quietly. There were no machines on the table, only some papers… and a plate of plums. She smiled at him as he came in, and saw him smiling back this time.

"Come in. Close the door. We won't share any with them." she jokingly whispered referring to the guardsmen outside. He obeyed and went to take his seat.

"How are you today? Are you well?"

The Soldier nodded without thinking.

"Help yourself to them, by the way." she said, pointing to the plate. The GSR had shown her how much he liked them. "They're not easy to come by around here, better make the most of it."

Now that he had permission, he took a slice and relished the feeling of actually enjoying something he ate. It was a new experience with, yet, an old familiar reaction.

"Today's session is going to be as short or as long as you want it to be. I just want you to do one thing: write on this paper ten sentences…" and she slipped before him a page and a pen, his attention still on the plums, "beginning with the words 'I am'."

His eyes snapped up to her. Seeing that she was serious with her simple but impossible request, he grabbed the pen and stared at the page. He immediately felt like a dumb ox; what was he supposed to write?

"I won't watch, if you want. I'll just stand over there, and you can call me over when you're ready. Alright?" She was smiling and being friendly, but that didn't stop him from feeling tricked somehow. It was, oddly enough, a familiar feeling — that of a schoolboy caught unprepared for a test.

She stood up and went to stand by the door, leaning against the wall while she looked outside through the slot that let in the light from the hallway.

'I am' — what, exactly?

The first thing that came to his mind, of course, was that he was a soldier. He was a man too, but both options felt stupid somehow, vapid. He was also alive, but was that the sort of thing she expected? Was it that simple? Was it a trick?

He barely touched pen to page before lifting it again, dissatisfied and angry. After a few minutes, hearing him grunt and shuffle, her attention went back to him.

"Done already?" She knew he wasn't but walked back anyway, and pretended not to notice how he tried to sink his bulk in the bare wooden chair and hide behind the empty air. "Really, nothing at all?" she asked as she stopped beside him. "Surely you can think of something…" She sounded more teasing than frustrated in her chastisement, but he still avoided her eyes. He heard her sit back down and felt her amused stare burn into his cheek.

"Well, what are you?" she started, pretending to think. "You are a man, right?"

He nodded.

"And — You can write any kind of sentence, such as… You are in a room, yes?"

Nod.

"And you're such and such feet tall. You're sitting down. You are awake. You are dressed. You are writing. You are thinking. You are young… or, are you old? What do you think?"

He finally looked back up at her, in innocent confusion.

"We don't have to decide on that, then. How about… Are you happy?" she tried.

He still hadn't written anything, and seemed even more uncomfortable with himself.

"Too much, I guess…" She got up to walk closer and rested her thighs against the table's edge. "Well, you're healthy. Right?"

Nod.

"And strong. And handsome…"

He looked up slowly at that and found her looking down at him, gently but with focus.

"Did you know that you're handsome?"

"That's eleven sentences."

"Oh… Is it?"

She hesitated for a couple of heartbeats, thinking, then decided. What would a man do?

Slowly, she slipped her knees between his spread thighs, gripped the back of his chair with her hands, and leaned ever-so-slightly in. To the side of her, she heard the pen clatter on the table as it slid from his limp fingers and he leaned back. Away from her? Oh. No matter.

Her right hand, hot and soft, came down to caress the side of his face, and she bit her lip tightly to keep a too-excited smile from breaking out. His eyes looked straight up into hers and his lips parted on their own when she tilted her head on the way to kissing him, but with an involuntary impulse he leaned back further against the chair.

"I can't." he said — half-chocked, half-conviction.

"It's alright, I… I won't…" she started, taken aback by how definitive his rejection was.

"It's not that. I can't…"

"What do you mean 'you can't'?"

"I can't touch you."

She finally leaned away from him, if only a little. "…Who said that?"

His fists clenched impotently, one on his knee the other still on the table, and finally he admitted: "The Director."

She backed up further to look at him and think about what that meant. In the back of her mind, she was relieved that his rejection didn't actually come from any revulsion to her, but only to disobeying orders. "Why would the Director tell you not to touch me?"

He was sat down quietly as ever, but never had a man looked more desperate to run away.

"Soldier." she called a bit more firmly. "Why would the Director say that?"

"He c— saw me…" he confessed.

She let him simmer in his guilt while she considered the implications, which were altogether too delicious and threatened to run away with her. Keeping her voice calm, she dug further. "What did he see you do?"

The Soldier only huffed and swallowed his words, bracing his feet against the floor, looking down to the ground, fighting with himself like a half-domesticated beast. When he didn't answer quickly enough, she dipped down, perching on her high heels, and leaned with her hands against his knees to look up searchingly into his eyes.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to" That's a lie. "but you know I'm not like him. I won't get angry with you, or disgusted…" and she watched his face carefully for the twitch of the muscles that predictably came at the corner of his mouth. There was an admission there, but also curiosity. "You can say anything." she soothed, rubbing his knee comfortingly. "How bad can it be…?"

Very.

"Come on, tell me… What happened?"

Thread by tenuous thread, he allowed her to unravel that which held his chest in a tight grip. "I was dreaming. About you."

She looked at him in a sly, satisfied way, having finally caught him in the lie she'd long since suspected; but now she didn't have the heart to reproach him. The fact that he had dreamed of her only added a personal satisfaction on top of the professional one. He's recovering more quickly than he let on. Not only dreams, but lies too.

"And what were you doing in your dream?"

He shifted and, instead of counting the cracks in the concrete, moved his attention to his left, to a dark corner, ever further from her eyes. She knew what it was, otherwise she wouldn't have asked, and he partly hated her for it. For how close she was when she asked him that. For how she rubbed his knee in a way that made him throb.

"It wasn't… I wasn't myself in my dream."

"How do you mean?"

"I wasn't there at all, like I didn't exist. There was this other this man, he didn't look like me, or sound like me, or think like me — I don't know how I know what he thought. I guess I was him, but I wasn't."

"I see... And how did the Director find out what you were dreaming about?"

A certain part of him wanted to kick her off him and choke her and break her neck for making him feel that way, for making him a coward in front of her — her of all people. But another part, more in control and much more encompassing, knew he couldn't stand to see her so much as afraid. It was a strange feeling, to want to kill someone — to want it, not just be ordered to — but also want to protect her from anything and everything in the world and see her alive and happy and just see her, every day.

So he took a deep breath and willed his eyes back to hers, waiting wishfully before and beneath him, and sucked in one good long look to work up the nerve to barely admit: "He saw me… How I was… because of you." The Soldier shifted, wanting her hot little hands off his knees but she held on and pressed forward.

"How could he see you?"

"Through the cameras. He came in soon after." He remembered clearly the supercilious sneer, the lazy gait, the direct command, and his own shame and fear and anger. "Ordered me not to touch you, not to tell you about my dreams."

"When was this?"

"The… the first morning." and he didn't need to explain which day or how many ago.

"Was it a nice dream, at least?" she dared to ask.

"Not exactly."

That knocked a bit of her glee off, until she noticed the leer of longing in his eyes.

Without giving herself the chance for one more treasonous thought, she raised herself back up. To the Soldier's surprise, her hands went straight to his belt and started tugging, unclasping, clumsily pulling it out like a dead snake.

"What—"

"The Director might have said you can't touch, but he never said anything like that to me. Arms behind your back."

He had enough wherewithal to realise what she was asking for wasn't exactly respecting the spirit of the order, but he also had enough sense to not argue. So the Soldier put his arms back behind the seat, and allowed her to tie his wrists together with the thick black belt — a useless effort as he could probably break it off if he tried.

After she finished a few thorough loops and knots, her hand lingered on him, then up his metal arm, his shoulder, his neck, threading through his tousled hair before finally cupping his cheek in a touch so small and warm and timid as to be completely unfamiliar. And he saw in her eyes the same surprise he felt, as if discovering a new world that could only bridged through another.

She turned and sat sideways across his lap, her other hand holding onto the back of the chair, her feet dangling a few inches off the ground. He brought his knees in a bit closer to make a comfier seat — he could hardly feel the weight of her, but at the same time that delicious little pressure was all his body knew.

She took her time settling in, working up the courage, thinking, fearing… and he felt ready to just break out of the belt-binds and pull her closer and crush her against him, but she finally got the nerve, and leaned in, and with her eyes never leaving his placed one chaste kiss against his mouth.

The Soldier stayed still, suspended in tension against the chair, against her hopeful gaze, against the welcoming scent of her cheek — and inwardly, worst of all, felt a forgotten part of himself brace for impact like an anchor sinking fathom after slick fathom in soft ink.

She closed her eyes when she went to savour his lower lip, then his scruffy chin, the sunken cheek, the hard outline of his cheekbone… He opened his mouth hungrily and leaned in to chase after her but she kept her kisses punishingly pure — as if he was nothing better than a love letter or a child's bruised knee or a venerable family cat.

When her kisses reached his throat he could — finally — bury his face in her hair at least, and breathe her in to burn from inside his lungs out through his whole body, and stay there forever. She must have found that flesh particularly satisfying; she parted her lips and opened her mouth and bit, just gently, across his skin, then lapped over the damp muscle that arched in tension there and thrummed with his moans.

Slowly, she allowed herself to feel him, strength leaving her arms as more of her soft chest leaned into his, rubbing the black t-shirt against his feverish skin and his heart nearly leapt out to join hers. He could feel her cant her hips on his thighs as her wet kisses moved from one rough jaw, to the other, then down his neck where wet heat pooled, lapping, lapping against his muted groans.

She leaned back to look at him, blushing and dizzy, and offered up her mouth with a teasing smile. He dipped to take it, but she just pulled back — once, twice, then a terrible third. "I thought you weren't supposed to touch me." she cooed against his starving lips. "Naughty, naughty boy."

An uncharacteristically pitiful sound ground past his teeth as she got off his lap and balanced herself between his eagerly widening thighs. He didn't even have time to shift in his pulsing discomfort before she crouched back down, legs held primly tight in her skirt, and started shoving his t-shirt up.

By this point, he didn't dare think about what she wanted from him anymore, so he decided not to think at all and let his head lean drunkenly back.

She could only roll it up so much before his thick bound arms stopped it, but it gave her enough to admire under the dismal light. He could feel the trembling in her fingers as she traced his chest, his ribs, his tensing abdomen, and suddenly his legs were bracing against the floor again.

Her elbows rested on his thighs as her fingers caressed their way downward until they reached, just gently tip-teasing, the edge of his trousers, but didn't pull them down nor move closer to where he was aching. Her lips left kisses on his damp stomach, what was left of her lipstick smudging blood-red wherever she found a particularly admirable divot to sink into. She didn't even bother to look up at him, nor did she lavish his body with any particular aim — she seemed content to just kiss what she found for kissing's-sake, healing one imaginary wound at a time with the complete abandon of someone who found life worth living only in a singular beloved.

Those ticklish explorations and her torturous hands were scraping at the edge of his restraint and soon he could barely keep himself from pulling at the knots around his wrists — tensing before remembering to sit still, then pulling again, one arm trembling the other changing calibration with a mind of its own. The chair too was scraping against the naked concrete in his longing to get away, to get closer, to get more of her, and the sound could barely cover the traitorous echoing of his moans.

His hips tried in vain to reach, at least a little bit, any part of her body, thrusting up into the infinite indifferent air between them, but all he managed was to rub himself again his tightening pants, and even that was just about enough, but not nearly.

"I need…" He couldn't finish begging because he didn't know how, wasn't supposed to know how, but it still seeped through every sound he made.

With her mouth still suckling on a shapely curve of muscle at his waist, she looked up, and her little claws sunk into his thighs at the sight of him: heaving, dishevelled, completely at her mercy. Those large grey eyes, now glassy and pleading, searched her face from behind the tendrils of his hair that fell to frame the marble-pale angles of his face — that face which used to be so stoic, so frightfully empty, now chipped away by a patter of kisses to reveal underneath a peachy-soft and blushing boy, who was forced to grow too fast.

She raised herself off him, suddenly abashed and pitying, and his heart stuttered with the panic that she was leaving… but she stayed right there. Within the bulky frame of his legs, she balanced herself on one high heel and kneeled with the other on the small space left on the chair between them. Her hands caressed his heavy head, brushed his hair away, and she rested her lips above his brow in a silent and continuous kiss.

He was so warm, she could feel it through his clothes, could almost feel the throbbing and churning of his desire in time with his whimpers as he took what little she offered and rubbed himself gratefully, desperately against her small, hard knee. His head fell forward suddenly as his whole body curled in on itself in her embrace and with one, two, three painful pulsations, finally released.

She kept kissing and cooing against his overheated skin as he worked himself through it, biting his lip through heaving gasps, burying his groans in her chest, and she realised in passing that that was the loudest she had ever heard him be. Even after the energy was drained from him and he calmed down, she could still feel aftershocks of his pleasure tremble against her leg as a little more and more was pushed out of him, seemingly never ending, until it did.

His breath ran hot and cold as it fanned over her skin, through her shirt, while he slowly came back to himself. She didn't move away, content to hold him close as long as he needed. Her fingers soothed his forehead while her chin rested on top of his head, her eyes far away in the quiet. Her heart was still drumming away and he didn't even need to strain himself to hear it while he felt his own, beating to match her rhythm, and then slowly come down, together.

"Are you alright, my darling?" she asked in an easy voice that masked her concern. He didn't say anything, just buried his face deeper in her shoulder and hummed contentedly.

She could feel the cloying dampness between her own legs collect and start to cool. Her lower lips ached as if beaten and were still throbbing. The virile scent of him beneath her didn't help at all, but it didn't matter anymore either. She had only wanted to cherish him, even at the dreadful prospect of his indifference — which, as a gift, turned out not to be so; to give and give and give to the point of nonexistence until all that was left of her was the spark that burned for him, for as long as he needed it.

She dedicated so much of her energies to the mission, to the work, to the distant goals of glory that Hydra promised, and she once thought that to leave behind useful things was her chance at true freedom from the mundane materialism that had sickened her into this exile in the first place. But within the unexpected package of one kidnapped and brainwashed soldier, imprisoned to a degree he didn't even comprehend, she found a gate to something so much better — one small form of immortality through immolation.

Her attention went to back to his arms, still tied behind him, and the way that left shoulder gleamed in the low sepulchral light caught her eye. One hand went to caress its silver surface until she caught sight of the clandestine mark they put on him. "I hate that ugly thing." she spoke with genuine disgust, her nails catching against the symbol there. "Wish I could scratch away this red satanic star."

The Soldier couldn't tell if it was some possessiveness of hers talking or just the Hydra zealot, jealous of a competing cult, but he felt too weary to hold those walls up anymore, and too serene in her arms to care.

She moved away from him, gently letting go, stumbling a little in her stiff ankles and straightening her skirt on her way around. She undid the knots and rubbed a little at the wrist that bore its marks. After a parting kiss to the bent back of his neck, she dropped the belt on his lap. "Let's get you cleaned up." she whispered.

He heard her fumbling with something, and then there was a quick run of water at the sink in the corner. The Soldier had just barely straightened himself in the chair when she came back around and started wiping down his chest with a slightly damp handkerchief. He looked down at her and she looked back, slightly blushing the lower she went, until she reached his trousers and paused.

With an awkward smile, she handed him a batch of tissues and hurried back to the sink.

He had to smile too, almost laughing at the odd standards of her shyness. He unbuttoned himself and wiped off the gooey seepage, wincing and going gently as the cool air hit the raw parts of him. His pants were still quite soiled on the inside, and his t-shirt was damp but drying; it would have to do.

It didn't take long for him to straighten himself out, to put his shirt and his belt and everything back together while she got rid of the evidence, and when she turned back to look at him it was almost as if nothing had happened. He stood up and turned to find her walking straight toward him, just like that first day. Only this time she was smiling, her steps were gentled by the aches and stiffness, and it wasn't just the Soldier she was looking at, but also someone… else.

His feet stood firm while he waited for her, but as soon as she was within reach he curled a hand around her hip and leaned down — only for her to press against his broad chest and pull away.

"We have to leave soon, or they'll come looking for us." The Soldier swallowed his complaints and nodded in understanding. Of course it was too much to ask… And then the killing blow: "I can't see you tomorrow."

"What. Why not?"

"We have a staff briefing all morning, and then I'll have to write a report on your progress, and I have to make something up about this session, and I'll be busy with meetings the rest of the day…"

She was holding something back. His eyes stayed on her body and he rediscovered how small she was beneath him, so steady but so close to wavering. He held her still by the hip, pressing into the fragile skin of her abdomen while his other hand went up to grip the base of her neck. To anyone else it would have been a threat, but she drank in his rough touch with calm. His thumb edged the neckline of her shirt away to reveal brand new skin stretching over birdlike bones.

Her eyes stayed on his, her smile ever-tender as she looked up into his troubled face, completely trusting in his murderer's-hands. The Soldier bent down to kiss the curve of a clavicle as he held her firmly in his arms and asked, again, "Why can't you see me?"

He let her battle with her conscience as he moved his hands down her sides, one hot one metal-cold, gently down and up her thighs, gallantly avoiding the curves of her behind to rest at the small of her back as he let himself fall from underneath her hands and go down on one knee in front of her.

"I'll see you again. Maybe… maybe next week…"

He could hear the breath tense out of her body as he brought his face dangerously close to her, but instead of aiming for the source of that sweet warm scent, he rested his lips right over her lower stomach, kissing now this way, now that, through her clothes and her skin, wanting her to know exactly where he wished he could reach, and take root.

A pair of hands came to rest on his head and caress the hair out of his face, then quietly and shakily she confided "They're considering you for a new mission."

He hummed against her, listening but uncaring.

"Maybe I can try to see you before you're sent off." she said pensively as her hands slipped to his shoulders. "Yes, I can stop by and say… maybe even get an approval…"

Don't trust this devious Hydra bitch!

Would you shut up for once?

102 notes · View notes

woodchoc-magnum · 3 years

Text

L0ne St@r 2x12 Hate Watch

DO NOT REBLOG THIS ONE - thanks, I’m trying to fly under the radar with my negative opinions here

Usual disclaimer, and I mean it this time: If you watch and love this show, that’s great and I hope you continue to enjoy it. Please don’t read this - simply go about having a lovely day.

If you do love this show and T*rlos and are braving this anyway - do not come in here. I mean it. This is not a T*rlos friendly zone. I do not ship it. Please enjoy your ship in peace and harmony. I have no intention of getting into arguments with anyone, I will simply ignore you.

I have done everything I can to avoid this showing up in the tags, whatever the LS tags are. Don’t send me hate on anon because I’ll delete them; I don’t care if you think I should stop watching the show, I’m not gonna. I like to suffer.

Eddie Diaz for calm and strength and to centre ourselves:

Hate, as always, under the cut:

Let's do this fucking thing, I've heard bad things about this episode

And I already know I'm wrong about the arsonist which is ANNOYING but maybe also too obvious so that's okay, I also know who the arsonist is and all the main plot points but I’ve still got to watch it to really appreciate the subtle nuances of the episode:

Oooh Billy

I ship it

Billwen for the win

This show is so dumb

Billy is smarter than Owen, maybe he should be the captain of the 126

I miss his lightning scars though

He's TWO HOURS LATER FOR DINNER

TK is looking as bland as always

They seriously waited for two fucking hours for this guy

Maybe should've put some deodorant on before going to dinner there Owen

You know I can't imagine the OG doing a storyline as dumb as this

So Carlos' dad thinks it's someone who works at the 126 or just a firefighter in general?

Well gosh darn it, it looks like Owen fits that profile exactly!

At least we get some Judd early in the episode and I love him

Angela Bassett is executive producer on this show as well? I hope she gets paid cash money for this

Billy is the red herring and I fell right into their trap

I just really wanted it to be him

Ooh Grace was listening

Oh it's 100% the arson investigator and Billy is 100% turning Owen in, I love him

Billy is amazing

He's my favourite character on this show

I hope he's not working with Owen to get the arson investigator? I hope he's actually this devious

I want him to be THIS DEVIOUS

Why the fuck does Owen wear that hoodie everywhere

TK is now having a little bitch fit

"they can't do that, can they?" he asks in a monotone, his face blank and devoid of expression

TK's real real dumb

Oh ho ho is this the shoving scene

IT IS

God Ronen CANNOT ACT

Okay so while I think it is wildly unbelievable that they would send TK's boyfriend to tell him that his father had been arrested by HIS father – it seems like a conflict – I would like to say that Carlos is being calm and reasonable

And TK is acting like a little BITCH

This is escalating quickly

Oh TK you so dumb

THE SHOVING

Wow

FOUR TIMES

Wow

Your fave is problematic, yo

Carlos deserves better than this whiny little piece of shit

And now, an interlude while I rant:

Let's talk about how Eddie Diaz yelled at Buck once in a supermarket and the fandom has never forgotten it; how his character has been villainised despite everything else going on in the show at the time, for that one fucking scene – let's talk about all the fics where Eddie hits Buck, or punches him, or rapes him – because you know those fics exist – let's talk about the "Eddie is violent" narrative that parts of this fandom like to push because Eddie yelled at Buck, one time, once, in a supermarket

Totally ignoring the fact that at no point at all, in any other episode he’s been in, has he been violent towards Buck, at all - let’s talk about how the street fighting arc was out of character for Eddie, because he was struggling to cope and looking for an outlet - let’s talk about how Buck and Eddie moved past that whole storyline and strengthened their relationship; how they built a family together, how they’re a team and they have each other’s backs no matter what, and how, not once in the entire show, have they ever been violent towards each other or pushed each other around in anger - NOT ONCE.

And let's talk about this scene, where TK, ya boy, ya sweet tender boy, just shoved the man he says he loved four times, violently, in front of people at the firehouse.

I betcha any money he doesn’t get tarnished with the Eddie-Diaz-is-violent brush, because he can do no wrong. He’s the fan favourite, and this is totally glossed over by the end of the episode and nothing will ever be said about it ever again.

Because wow, you guys. Wow. If this was my ship, I’d be pissed.

Back to the hate watch:

And I know that whole fight is for nothing because I know the plot twist – I know that the dads are working together in order to reveal the real arsonist, the investigator – so they've basically turned their children, who are in a relationship, against each other?

Also why is Billy allowed to be watching the interview?

Goddamn do we really have to show the gruesome burn victim photos

I really want Billy to be devious by the way, and not in on the plan

Oh here comes TK, looking like the little bitch he is

God he's a fucking awful actor

This is the dumbest plotline ever

Equating OWEN STRAND WITH THOR? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

BLASPHEMY

THOR IS THE GOD OF THUNDER

OWEN IS A DUMBASS

THE TWO ARE NOT EQUAL

Uh oh here comes the evil investigator

Do either of these men – Owen and Carlos' dad – stop to consider that what they're doing has kind of an impact on their children, who are currently in a relationship? No? Okay

Because this is one hell of an awkward situation

Does Owen genuinely think that Billy is the arsonist?

Interesting that the arson investigator wants any info Owen didn't give Carlos' dad, and he turned off the cameras/mics etc

This show is stupid

Arson investigator also knows that the sons are dating, interesting

"And you can pound sand!" oooh great comeback Owen

This episode is so BORING OMG

Why the fuck am I watching a shitty Law & Order knock-off when I should be watching a bonkers 911 episode

Oh no Judd's at Billy's

I really do think Billy Burke is good looking and it is a flaw of mine, I don't know what it is about him and he really doesn't look that good in this show but I really love Billy Burke okay

And I WANT HIM TO BE DEVIOUS

Oh Judd

Oh Judd thinks Billy is the arsonist

See this is why YOU DON'T LIE TO THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU

Oh he punched him

God damn everyone is violent in this show

Judddddddddddddd

Uh oh here comes trouble to the "vagrant's" hospital room

Oh it's the arson investigator, their little bluff worked, incredible, amazing, flawless etc

Wow how amazing

It was the ol' switcheroo

Judd punched Billy for nothing

TK and Carlos nearly came to blows for nothing

Now Owen is allowed to watch the interrogation? They'll just let anyone watch those things these days

OH MAN ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT BILLY WAS IN ON IT WITH OWEN THE WHOLE TIME?

Damn it I wanted DEVIOUS god damn it

Fucking cowards

"I assumed it was probably a trap at the hospital which is why I went there anywhere"

But why is he lighting fires

A FEW MONTHS?

A man is dead

Pure theatre

So annoyed that Billy isn't devious

But the Billwen ship sails on, clowns 🤡

Do we think the arsonist has the hots for Owen? 100% yes, right?

He's very happy to see him wink wonk

This doesn't even feel like an episode of 911, it's so goddamn dumb

"I knew you had darkness in you too" – that dude definitely wants to fuck him

Why is he lighting the fires?

They're so dumb

"And now I'm going to repay the favour" – he's talking about YOUR SONS

WHO HE KNOWS ARE TOGETHER

Wow these two dumbasses really have no fucking idea do they

OH HE'S BURNING HIMSELF ALIVE

Wow this is graphic

What the fuck is up with this show and the horribly graphic scenes lately?

That dude is dead yo

"Take away everything that's important to me" AND HE CALLS THE FIREHOUSE FIRST

THE FIREHOUSE IS THE FIRST FUCKING CALL???

Oh okay it did blow up and TK was there so I'll allow it

But hey look on the bright side – Owen gets to remodel again!

And isn't that what he's the best at?

Yo your firehouse is on fire dudes, better call the fire department

Does Judd apologise to Billy or no

Oh here we have TK and Carlos and their perfect love

And Carlos is the one apologising?

No.

Please tell me no

Carlos you are allowed to be pissed at him – ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

"nobody has to apologise?"

YOUR BOYFRIEND PUSHED YOU AROUND

Oh my god

Wow

Okay.

Look I'm just saying that to me this would be a GIGANTIC RED FLAG but wtf do I know

I'm just saying because I have to – if Carlos was a woman and TK did that? Whole different story gang

Whole completely different mother-fucking story

This show, wow

Wow.

Wow. This is bad.

Domestic violence happens to men too, just saying.

Wow I'm so annoyed that I've paused it to type furiously and rant that wow, they're just not acknowledging that TK was totally out of line? Okay. Wow.

And everyone's just fine with it?

Oh they're just figuring out that he set more than one fire

Maybe there's something else you care about other than the firehouse, Owen

Maybe?

BILLY IS THE ONE WHO FIGURES IT OUT

See this is why Billy is the best

Oh no TK and Carlos are in danger

Oh it's so romantic isn't it? They're gonna fuck now that everything is okay

Wow he left a lot of bombs in Carlos' house

Damn Carlos is hot

No smoke alarms?

That fire has really taken ahold there guys

I'm gonna assume you do have smoke alarms and he disconnected them

Wow he really covered all bases didn't he

Put the bombs in the bedroom as well

RIP Carlos' nice house

"I love you too" after I violently shoved you around today

Oh who needs a fucking fire department when you've got Owen fucking Strand right?

"Carlos" he says flatly. "How are you doing?" he asks in a monotone

"I should've had an extinguisher in the bedroom" DUDE NO ONE DOES

And if TK wanted one in there, he's the fucking firefighter, he should've checked when he moved in instead of assuming like a dumbass

God this show is dumb as fuck and I hate it so much

Billwen for the win

"just a couple of crap magnets" fucking a-men Judd

This show sucks

Oh no TOMMY OH NO

WHAT'S HAPPENING

OH MY GOD

WHAT THE FUCK

What the fuck

Is he dead?

TAKE OWEN AND TK INSTEAD

I’m going to say one more thing about this T*rlos storyline - if they’d done this to Buck & Eddie in the OG, I’d be fucking devastated. Like... if Buck or Eddie pushed the other around the way TK pushed Carlos around, I’d be absolutely gutted. It’s really horrible that they went down that path - whether it’s OOC or not, and you can probably argue that it is - they shouldn’t have included the scene like that in the show.

It just raises a whole slew of questions, like... is TK violent? Is Carlos used to being pushed around in relationships? Is the show saying that it’s okay that they got a little physical because they’re both men? Domestic violence is never okay, and this is kind of... saying that it is, in certain circumstances?

That is problematic as fuck and such bad writing.

These two are in a relationship where they are living together and supposedly love each other, and this is how the writers choose to portray it? If you’re a T*rlos shipper and you’re upset about this episode, I get it. It’s really fucking terrible that they included that scene - and I would bet cold hard cash it’ll never be addressed again.

This is why LS is a bad show. It’s shitty writing. Shitty storylines. Characters who are interesting are shoved into the background and glossed over in favour of the male white characters. The OG doesn’t have this problem - for everyone complaining that Eddie hasn’t been featured as much this season (and yeah, I hate it too) - you can’t complain that the characters of colour don’t get equal screentime.

With LS - it’s the Rob Lowe show, and everyone else is just in the background. And that’s why it’s so frustrating to watch - they have a great cast, and this could be a really good show, but it’s just not.

Do you think the LS writers patted themselves on the back after this arc and were like, "yeah we nailed it, we're amazing?"

This episode is -1,000000/10. This show should be cancelled.

Two god awful miserable fucking episodes to go.

Diaz to cleanse:

#DO NOT REBLOG #lone star hate watch #enter at your own risk

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years

Text

Always loving you // J x Reader // wake-up cuddles ~ 💙

Summary: Unusually is J there when you wake up and even though he stinks of his usual antics, you’re determined to take advantage of your sleepy state and of J’s presence. Unknowing are you that this was J’s intention. He would never explicitly say, “I love you”, but he will show you, instead. J’s love language is one which no one has ever learned, for they have never gotten close enough to do so, but you are this exception. You are J’s only exception and, oh, how loud is his love language now that you are a fluent speaker of such a beautiful gift.

A/N: I have no excuse for this other than the fact that I woke up Soft™ and wanting cuddles. Between ten throw cushions, two pillows, three blankets and a duvet, I somewhat achieved it, but this still wouldn’t leave my mind. Written before I consumed coffee, so it might be terrible.

Dedicated to @jokersspookyhyena for reasons I tell her every day 🥺😭💗

Word count: 1, 501.

Warm.

You feel... warm.

There is a reassuring pressure wrapped around your lower waist. It is delightfully heavy and the heat which seeps into your skin may as well be coming from a radiator; so hot does your clown run even in the cold months. The familiarity of the arm wrapped around you does nothing to help you in waking up; instead do you only wish to close your eyes and go back to sleep. In sleep do you forget yourself. You can only be as you are in your most natural state, vulnerable and weak as your mind processes the previous day and prepares itself for the next one. The lacerations of reality are soothed away, but not wholly healed, by the enticing pull of sleep upon your conscious mind and J's presence beside you is a surprising but welcome way of waking up.

The relentless rays of golden light seep through the cracks of the blackout curtains which only further darken your shared bedroom, and you groan and nuzzle your head into J's chest. As you turn your face away from the horrific sunlight, he grunts lowly, way in the back of his throat, and his arm tightens around your waist. It's a message: Don't move. You have no intentions of doing so and you wish that you could stay here in this moment forevermore; the sands of time so perfectly cradled in the palms of your hands.

As it is, the palm of your hands are making their way out from where they’re tucked closely to your chest, and beginning to explore J’s bare chest. There is nothing more on your mind in this moment than simply taking in your love for all that he is. The past and the future do not matter to you in your threshold consciousness. You only want to feel that J is there, that he is alive and well, that he is with you. To wake up with J still beside you must be a dream and so you resolve to murder to poor soul who wakes you up. You shift your body so that you are as tightly tucked into his body as you can be, and J grunts low in the back of his throat as his grip on you tightens once again.

J, too, is mostly asleep, and as a result is his guard lowered. It is not down completely, it never is, so hyper vigilant and so careful is he, most especially when he is with you. So long have the two of you been together that J considers you almost to be one of his possessions. He does not own you, this he knows, and you do not belong to him. You are your own person and so is he, but you are someone whom he cares for very deeply. There is only one of you, you are irreplaceable and there is no one like you. There never has been and there never will be again. Indeed does J treat you as if you are one of his most prized possessions. He takes as best care of you as he can, though this care is something which you had to learn to look for. His love language is one which no other before you had ever stopped to learn; there had been his ex-wife but at the first sign of a bump in the road had she left him, but you... oh, you had stayed to listen to the song which was so unlike anything you had ever heard or would ever hear again, and even as you lay here now, so beautifully protected against J’s side, do you know that you don’t want to be in any other place.

J is it for you, just as you are it for him.

He knows not why you love him. He knows not why you stay. All that matters is that you do and J will do everything that he can to keep you near him. It is not that J cannot feel, but rather he simply chooses not to. Even so, with you does J acknowledge, even if it’s only to himself, that his heart squeezes in his broad chest when he even thinks of harm finding you or of you no longer being beside him, and it is for this reason that J deliberately has stayed with you until your moment of waking. You have been stressed recently, the city expecting too much of you, the people in your life expecting you to do and to be more than you most naturally are, and what better way can J say to you that he won’t leave you than to stay with you even as the sun spills out into your shared bedroom?

In this moment are you warm. Safe. Loved. But, oh, J stinks of greasepaint, of gunpowder and of gasoline. He smells of burning rubber, no doubt from his quick getaway last night, and the acrid scent penetrates your nostrils in the worst way. You wrinkle your nose against the stench and J feels this against his bare chest. He wonders what the big deal is while you wonder why he didn’t shower before he came to bed last night. The sheets were clean but then, J is beside you and that is worth more to you than the scent of clean sheets. You can replace those, but you can’t replace your chaotic but loveable asshole clown.

The sentiment of the both of you being irreplaceable to the other is a silent and unacknowledged one, but even so like a third presence in the bedroom do the two of you feel it as surely as you feel each other’s heartbeats, so tightly pressed together are you. It only makes the stench of J worse, sweet though this moment is. It doesn’t take long for you to vocalise this.

“J, I love you, but you stink.”

The bed shakes with J’s suppressed laughter and within seconds is the situation under his control; he rolls with you so that you are pressed against the mattress and his body in equal measures. Your legs are uncomfortable trapped beneath his own stronger ones and you part your legs to accommodate the weight of your clown atop your body. During any other time would this have created a different kind of atmosphere in the bedroom, one altogether more strenuous, but right now is there only tenderness and gentleness; strangers to J’s life but not to your own, for in him have you found everything you have ever wanted or needed. You live every day to love on your chaotic clown as hard as you possibly can and in moments like this, with his hair so greasy that it is stringy, the vibrant green beginning to fade into a duller blonde which is reminiscent of the man he tries so hard to discard, is that goal achieved.

“Ya, ah - ya’ never usu-al-ly complain about my smell, doll.” J ducks his head into the warm crook of your neck and sniffs at you like a dog. He exaggerates it and the feeling of his hot breath against your skin makes you giggle and J grins wolfishly. The gesture isn’t seen by you but you feel it. “Ya’ don’t smell so good ya’self, Y/N.” His voice is thick with sleep and the low pitch of his voice only threatens to make you sleepy once more.

You know he’s lying. You showered before you came to bed last night. There is little better in this world than getting into a freshly changed and made bed when you have just had a shower. You live for the small pleasures in life. “Liar. I showered before bed, thank you.”

“That’s a first.”

“Speak for yourself.” You angle your head to press an affectionate kiss to J’s head, resisting the urge to wrinkle your nose. He really does smell terrible, but even so do you cherish this moment of domesticity. It is unusual for J to simply stay and you know that he’s doing it for you, because of you. It is just another subtle way that he shows you his love for you; it is undying and unconditional and wholly yours.

J wraps his arms around you and squeezes you like a pillow as he makes a show of getting comfortable. “Ya’ gonna be quiet and get some more beauty sleep, hm? I know ya’ tired.” J’s full lips press uncoordinated kisses to wherever he can reach even as he holds you to his body, and in this way are you fully protected.

“I am sleepy, but - stay with me, J? Please?”

J grunts low in the back of your throat and nuzzles his face into your belly. You know that he means to say, like you have to ask. You close your eyes, relax your body and somewhere in the middle of surrendering yourself to J completely ... you fall asleep once more.

Destructive raccoon boii(tm) @jokersspookyhyena @anyatheladyclown @joker-daddy @rinbyo @imightaswellnotexistatall @vladtoly @joker-is-my-hero @liz-rdwitch @enigmaticandunstable @ledgerskitten @tsukiakarinobara @germansarechill @antonija89 @acw1 @harlequinautumn @mermaleizroseglasses @justawriterinprogress @truthbehindthemysteries @hotpacino @call-me-harley-quinn @mermaidpowers1

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anidealiveson · 3 years

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Thanksvember Master Post

Day 1 - Like Coming Home - It has a super rare “wholesome plot twist”! Without spoiling anything too huge, I really like that @julesherondalex took the time to talk about how important it is to take care of yourself first. You can’t love someone else properly, the way they deserve, if you don’t have that same love for yourself. I wasn’t expecting the heartbreaking scene, but the beautiful way in which that topic was was approached neither took away from the story or the joy.

Day 2 - Must Love Dogs - An incredibly fluffy (literally) fic that I loved reading. @rosehallshadowsinger did a really great job weaving Azriel and Elain’s canon personalities into this adorable AU scenario. It is obvious @rosehallshadowsinger took care to create believable personalities for two characters that didn’t get POVs in the books.

Day 3 - Striking Matches - I have to say that I wasn’t at all attracted to an AU fic about firefighters. I was also not a big Rowaelin fan before that, but I was work procrastinating so I gave it a try. Wellll, 30 parts later, I found myself delighted at the writing and sad it was over. I couldn’t believe how well @shyvioletcat cat was able to entirely re-characterize these two into such a different setting, yet still retaining what made them popular in the books. Aelin was perfect in her role as a snarky schoolteacher irritating the stoic firefighter Rowan. And the descriptions of the kids lining up at the firehouse demonstration and Jake’s adorable prodding was icing on the cake.

Day 4 - Close Quarters - I really loved the way @lady-therion wrote Nesta in this modern AU. I particularly like how she equates Nesta’s sometimes standoffish attitude as a very relatable personality trait. She has trouble reading people and gauging situations. It’s well written and the dialogue is unique for a plot that is common in ff!

Day 5 - Like A Lonely House - It’s got a colossal I love Lucy level misunderstanding mixed in with a lot of tension and angst. This Nesta that is full of sacrifice and duty and fire is how I imagine the Nesta who feels that she has a stake in the Fae world would be like. @featherymalignancy wove such a captivating new world in Macar, that it felt a lot like being introduced to the 8th court in the ACOTAR world.

Day 6 - Death Dance - There are several takes out there that touch on Nesta in the Ilyrian camps, but I love how @thewayshedreamed interpreted Nesta’s skills on the battlefield as a calculated dance. Nesta has always been a raging storm, but I love how @thewayshedreamed took care to show us a Nesta that channeled that storm into discipline. If SJM never intended to release a Nessian focused book, I would have considered this a satisfying end to their story.

Day 7 - One Night Standards - I love the way @sassyhobbits writes Aelin with her typical extremely sassy exterior, but also made sure to saddle her with a vulnerable side that runs deep. I normally don’t care for slow burns, but I like the pace of her relationship with Rowan here, and that they had to work hard at it. I also like the plot lines that involved their PR stunts and how the public grew to love them as well.

Day 8 - Goose Chasing - Its the most absurd plot of any fanfic I’ve read! The title is not figurative. Its really does involve chasing a goose. @rhysismydaddy did a fantastic job encapsulating the spirit of silly Cassian and grumpy Nesta in a situation they’d likely never find themselves in, yet making it entirely believable.

Day 9 - Manon Chooses The Worst Babysitter Possible - It’s such a casual and fluffy and hilarious read. It was fun to read about a softer and more delicate Manon. Through this absurd mistake, @sarah-bae-maas did an excellent job really humanizing Manon and postulating a fun in-world domestic scenario.

Day 10 - My Hunger Knows No Bounds - @perseusannabeth manages to take a simple concept and weave a sweet narrative. I particularly love how @perseusannabeth incorporated her personal details into it and took the time to share her lovely culture with us.

Day 11 - Knowing me, Knowing you - We never got to actually see Aelin rule Terrasen (well we got a tinyyy bit) in the books. Though this was modern day, @nalgenewhore tells a fun story of what that could have been like.

Day 12 - Forever (is a long time) - @noodlecatposts takes Elide and Lorcan’s completely polar opposite personalities and spins an interesting (and frankly quite adorable) story. All the rules crack me up. My favorite Lorcan is the one that reminds me of Luke Danes from Gilmore Girls. Currently, he is in the middle of grumpily fixing up her flooded room, so I am sure that my favorite parts are yet to come.

Day 13 - Go Your Own Way - I appreciate @tomtenadia for putting to words a scene that I desperately wanted in ACOWAR or even ACOFAS. A lovely parallel to an equally lovely Fleetwood mac song.

Day 14 - In Which She Makes A Friend - It is no surprise that the fandom wants Nesta to find her place in the Illyrian mountains and even bring about some social change with the female warriors. But the way @bookstantrash got there was such a wonderful and endearing journey. Big fan of the callbacks to how Kaelin was treated and the similarities to a certain Illyrian warrior was when he was younger. We got to see a sweet Nesta, who I’d like to think was attempting to make up for some of her regrets through taking care of Kaelin.

Day 15 - The Ranch - As a huge fan of Sweet Home Alabama, its should be no surprise that I loved this fic by @tacmc . I enjoyed the slow change that we saw in a stubborn Nesta as she opened up to this new way of life and reconnected with her sisters and found a home with Cassian.

Day 16 - Felons - Such a unique interpretation of Nesta and Cassian. I really like the self-sacrificing Nesta angle and @rhysismydaddy did a great job weaving intrigue into the unraveling of what we knew to be a her innocence. I never read The Witness, but this really made me want to.

Day 17 - Of Books and Timber - Cassian offers to build a shelf for Nesta. The way @duskandstarlight goes through the entire range of emotions through Nesta is brilliant. She starts out with cold indifference, but by the end, we get from her a sweet and tender gesture of gratitude. Showing that meeting each other halfway with small gestures is all they ever needed.

Day 18 - You Should Sleep In My Bed More Often - I absolutely loved this quick exchange between Nesta and Cassian after she accidentally injures him. I can’t believe how much I laughed out loud when Cassian said “I need you to protect me closer”. @charincharge perfectly captured the teasing childish essence of Cassian and Nesta’s hilarious victim-blaming was so on the nose that I might have thought this was taken right out of ACOSAF.

Day 19 - The Right Swipe - I really enjoyed this take on the inner circle mixed with the super modern online dating plot. I especially love that @redisriding created genuinely realistic characters (body issues, social anxiety etc). Great read!

Day 20 - Goldfish Prompt - What a fun read. I love how frantic and much personality Feyre had here. I love how dedicated to her fish she was, and how that made her super endearing. Cute read from @azrielsiphons

Day 21 - The One With The Snowstorm - What I really like is that Cassian actually says that he is sorry for his part in Nesta’s exile. I am not bitter about it, but it was an interesting turn. They need to meet halfway here and I rarely see it so well written as @joysbell has done here!

Day 22 - Prompt - A lovely and cute and sweet prompt written by @crowsvalentine! I love the ramp up of suspense just to get to the hilarious payoff. Its adorable and worth the quick read.

Day 23 - Fix It - is one by @thewayshedreamed that I love in its simplicity. It’s a small little argument Cassian and Nesta get into, but its still compelling. It’s sweet and super endearing the way the two of them are written and the subtle way they work through it. Great read!

Day 24 - I Do Bad Things To You - The mob angle may have been done before, but I don’t think with as much care and regard that @tswaney17 has been giving it. I how the canon personalities of the characters translate so well into this modern AU. Its very obvious that @tswaney17 has done her research. I especially love all the details around Elain as a surgeon. The story is compelling and well written and every chapter has me wanting more.

Day 25 - Love Her Like She should Be Loved - This is an excellent fic that I really loved. @julemmaes did such a great job translating some of the canon tension from ACOFAS into a modern world. It’s ripe with emotion, drama and quite a bit of heart. I love how earnestly Cassian comes to Nesta’s defense even in the face of going against his entire family. I like the reference to some very real psychological struggles. I think a lot of people can relate to it.

Day 26 - Literally In Love - I really enjoy the subtle mystery that follows this entire journey. I enjoy that @julesherondalex keeps us guessing, while simultaneously weaving a sweet and tender story about two shy teachers and just a slew of mishaps worthy of a Shakespearian drama.

Day 27 - The Shadow Bond - I love Azriel, and this is such a wonderful fic by @radientwings focusing on how his shadows might work. His shadows are the one thing that I am most curious about him in the series, so it was lovely to read such a well written interpretation of them.

Day 28 - Exes and Oh’s - Just a shout out to @highqueenofelfhame for this lovely story about rekindling past love. I like that even though the plot was uncomplicated, the emotions were not. I love that Aelin didn’t have a perfect reason for what she did, but sometimes that is just how things are. This is a story about taking a second chance, whether it’s deserved or not.

Day 29 - Fever - I really love this fic called Fever. I enjoyed how @lady-therion portrayed Nesta. She hit the entire gammut of characteristics (snarky, worried, vulnerable, caring, short-tempered, flirty, you name it!) but it really worked here. I found this nurse Nesta to be endearing and relatable and the dynamic between her and Cassian was very sweet. Just go read the damned thing.

Day 30 - Baby Steps - I really really love this fic. @runesandfaes did such a great job in just so few words to show a really sweet moment between Chaol, Yrene and their daughter learning to walk. I love the parallel back to when Chaol was learning to walk and the cameo of the golden couch. So sweet.

#thanksvember #fanfics #fanfiction

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