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szarina · 3 months ago

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THE SNOWFLAKES ON YOUR SHOULDER

Zayne's an expert for fixing things including heart related problems and yours wasn't an exception. He can take apart your heart and fill the holes of your once shattered heart but can he really do it? When it is you who's refusing him now?

❆ ₊⋆ ──── notes. thank you for sticking until the end. i apologize in advanced for where this fic is going. if you can tell, i'm dumb af in everything and it does not exclude my own writing.

❆ ₊⋆ ──── taglist. @fandomenbylover @vurelliex @hi-itsmee28 @mentaltrouble2201 @agustdxjiminx @aboobie @samoankpoper21 @sylusgirlie7 @crazy-ink-artist @twilightsmissingfur @traumaramacenter @zeskyzed @lucifers-silhouette @milkmily @sillyfreakfanparty @babygirlarchives @what-is-this-fangirl-life @furinaaa1

❆ ₊⋆ ──── content warnings. heavy angst + description of injuries + car accident + blood + hospitalization + medical inaccuracies + implied noncon/dubcon + arguments + stalking + possessiveness + sabotage + grave injuries + jealousy + arranged marriage + lots of crying + ooc zayne + yandere themes + lots of grammatical errors + rushed ending.

READ PART ONE HERE. PART THREE.

It was a drunk driver.

The collision caused by someone behind the wheel under the influence of alcohol. Multiple witnesses stated that it was swerving side by side. Hitting the concrete barriers before occupying the next lane where misfortune is bestowed upon you. The car drifted before crashing into your car. You didn't have the time to avoid it for your mind merely registered what was happening — struggling to grasp your situation before you can hit the brakes.

Zayne was about to clock out for the night. Petrichor lingered in the moist earth and along with it, comes the night breeze caressing his skin. Then, he hears the familiar wail of the ambulance. The blue and red light dances in his vision as the vehicle approached — the sound of multiple footsteps echoed in the once silent medical bay.

Although Zayne was familiar with the emergencies running in and out of the hospital — there's the undeniable twist in his stomach. The wind colder and shifts into something more sinister like there was a disaster to struck and that's when the paramedics came rolling the gurney. It was you.

The surgeon wouldn't mistake it as someone else's even it was a glimpse, there was no denying it was you.

Zayne moved before his mind can think. There was no hesitation in his movements. A thousand assessments running in his mind, expecting all the possibilities and how to save you. Forgetting for a moment that a doctor isn't allowed to make diagnosis nor operate to a patient when it's their loved ones or someone they're closed to.

The reputation he even held at the moment of having accomplished multiple medical breakthroughs didn't allow him to get to you. Greyson whirring past from him as he joined the others.

For the first time Zayne have never felt so scared in his whole life, not even the time when he lost control of his Evol. Helplessly watching you disappear between the double doors and to plunge into unknown. No assurance of what to come. He sees you on his mind. It wasn't the angry tears streaming down your face that you desperately wiped that keep repeatedly playing on his mind — it was you drowning in your own blood.

He didn't even notice the crystalline layer of ice creeping up on his arms and to his shoulders. Blooming like flowers in his neck and covering his cheek.

SURGERY IN PROGRESS — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

It's been hours and long surgery hours means the trauma ranges from severe to grave circumstances. It wasn't his first gig to tell how worst a injury is. It was the results and results is the only thing that mattered to him.

Patience was Zayne's strong suits but from how the clock ticks by, every second and minute passing by and the coldness circulating in the ward — he was slowly losing it.

Greyson emerged within moments later. Surprised at him lingering outside the operating room.

“Dr. Zayne.” Greyson paused in greeting. His nerves settling in at the man in front of him before clearing his throat. He knows Zayne didn't want the unnecessary thoughts or what. He simply wanted to know the details.

“She's stable for now....” Greyson drawls out, trying to discern Zayne's reaction but was meet with the same stoic reaction. However the green in his eyes seems to darken and Greyson suddenly feels uncomfortable. “The injuries she sustained were beyond what we hoped to repair.” The spectacled brunette continued.

“The impact were severe and we were informed that the airbag of her car didn't deploy during the impact. She took the full force of the crash — multiple rib fractures caused internal bleeding we have to intervene before it got worst.”

Greyson paused again. His words dying out before coming out again. He feels like an intern again being poked out like a laboratory specimen under Zayne's cold gaze.

“The next hours will be critical for her, Dr. Zayne. She will be monitored closely and we will see how her condition progress.” That's all Greyson needed to say before leaving. He glances behind him. Dr. Zayne was really capable of showing stronger emotions. Greyson pondered while he walked. All the years he worked being an assistant to Zayne — is the first for seeing him like that. He's capable but to those who manage and it wasn't you.

Perhaps it was guilt that ate him up and Greyson couldn't care less about it. It wasn't his place to judge someone, not to Dr. Zayne.

Zayne made his way towards your room before going to his usual rounds with the other patients. His footsteps echoing in the quiet ward. It was barely morning when he came. A few hours reduced in his sleep when his nightmares consists of you — behind the steering wheel.

“You wanted this.”

He hears you say in his dreams. Blood bubbling up in your throat and the corners of your mouth trickles with the crimson liquid as you cough up more of your blood. Staring at him with your eyes slowly being drained of life. Your body riddled with cuts and your blood flowing from your arms as it drips in the concrete road. You drowning in your own pool of blood.

It was two days before the accident after your outburst. He was disconcerted after that when his gaze meets the cold hard door that you slammed shut. He never seen you so hurt before or he got used to you being silent and having to bear the burdens of him brushing you aside.

He was selfish. Taking you for granted and failing how you slowly turned miserable in this arrangement. He knows no love would bloom in this agreement for his heart belonged to someone else before he knew it and you knew it too.

In your own little ways you loved him without realizing and it destroyed you in the end.

The door slides automatically. Zayne had gotten used to the smell of disinfectants and clean linen in rooms but the never the sight of you laying still in the bed. Dead to the world outside. You would hate to see him being in the same room.

The room's dim and cold. Curtains shut cause it was needed for patients like you.

He checked your vital signs. Stable but never awake. Zayne thinks you're floating in your consciousness without planning to wake up cause he was with you. Waiting and watching. But how could you wake up when within a few hours of the surgery the night you were brought in. A bleeding in your brain was found causing seizures.

His colleagues have said that it was a miracle that you pulled through. Operations after operations was done and if you were weaker — you would have died before the next complications start.

The soft beeping of the monitors can be heard along with the air conditioner.

The cardiac surgeon pulled a chair nearby. He takes the sight of you. Bandages were wrapped around your head and there's more under your clothing. A few thin cuts in your face that was starting to heal. There's a jagged wound in your arm too. A glass shard was embedded inside upon impact. The bruises in your body were darker already entering the stages of healing.

It's already been a week now. His gaze soft towards you. He places his hand above yours. Clasping it gently and letting the warmth of your hand seep in the coldness of his own. Zayne looks back at you again and his hand holding yours. It's been long since he held it.

Should he have held your hands more? Should he assured you of what little security you needed with him? Or gave you the attention that you deserved?

None of it mattered. There's no use of pondering things that he should have done to you and for you to end up hurt by the consequences of his own shortcomings.

Zayne glances at the clock. It's time for his daily rounds with the other patients. He caresses your hand again before letting go. Adjusting the pillows for you to lay comfortably and gazes at you one last time before going out.

You woke up a month later.

It feels like you were in a deep sleep and to be awoken so suddenly. You squint your eyes for a few times. Slowly registering your surroundings. It was surreal. Weren't you just driving moments ago? And why can't you breath?

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you desperately claw the tubes connected to you. Ripping the IV line in process that your arm began to bleed out. It only stopped when multiple hands came to hold on you. Nurses rushing to your side as the alarm blares from you yanking the tubes.

It was so sudden. You were scared and confused before the pain settles and burns the entirety of your body. Everyone was a blur to you and the lights blinded you.

That was a few days ago. You've gone multiple tests to check your recovery. Aside from the few broken bones. A risk of possible seizures that was assuredly ruled out. The latest technology for medicine have worked for you minus the coma that your brain have to do. You were healing nicely.

Zayne have made his appearance after you woke up. Staying by your side and barely left you. He takes your hand in his when you wanted to walk. Assisting you in your bathroom breaks and far as going to clean you up.

“A nurse should be doing this, right?” Zayne remains emotionless. His coat draped in one of the chairs and his sleeves are rolled while he gently wiped your skin. You were still in the midst of recovery. “Yes, it's theirs but as a doctor our duty doesn't limit on surgery and medical advices.” Your lips form into a tight line while you stare at him.

Your brain may have jumbled and bleed but you still remember the night where you poured all those bottled feelings to him and it still hurts. You wished you've gone what most comatose patients undergo through after waking up is that having their memories temporarily wiped or maybe completely.

Ignorance is bliss. That's what you lived for and you're about to abide by it — again.

Zayne noticed the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. He puts the damp cloth aside. Examining your face for any signs of discomfort. “Are you feeling any pain?” He asks softly and you shaked your head. “Just tired.”

I'm so tired of you. Of us.

It feels you were back to square one again. This time your tolerance for pain must upped cause it doesn't hurt anymore than it used to aside from the pain of your wounds healing. “I want to be left alone.” You mutter. Pushing yourself to the bed and propping against the pillow. Zayne pulls your blanket to cover you. He longingly stares at you and nods.

“You can call me anytime you want.”

You just closed your eyes and pretended you didn't hear him.

After a week of multiple scans, therapy and rehab, you were discharged. A follow up check-up were needed. You didn't care about it. All you can think is you're out from the hospital and you won't be seeing Zayne again or you hope so.

“I can take myself home.” You protested. Standing outside of Akso Hospital waiting for a taxi, Zayne beat you to it. His white coat long abandoned and was replaced by a darker one. You assumed he was just taking you outside until you see his familiar black Audi A6.

He didn't leave room for any arguments as he placed your bag in the backseat. He's assisting you even being seated in his car. Zayne hears you huff and see your round cheeks puffed up. You weren't good at hiding your frustrations. He paid it no mind before starting the engine of his car and he drives you home.

The car came to a stop outside of the black familiar gates. You raised a brow at him. “Do you need to pick something from your house?” You fiddle at your seatbelt. Zayne gave you a curt answer. “No.” Opening the door of his car, he turns around to open yours.

“What do you mean?”

“You are still recovering. A bed rest is needed for you to recuperate fast.”

Your brows scrunched up. “Then I can do that at my home. I don't want to be here.” Zayne ducks towards you, a click can be heard as he pulled the seatbelt. He shakes his head, unconvinced.

“Multiple rib fractures, a brain that is still at risk for developing future seizures. You need a professional to be with you and I'm more than capable of taking care of you. It's also beneficial for us to live under the same roof since we're about to be wed.” He say without stopping. Stating the pros and cons on what about to come and clearly, you didn't have a choice.

The last part made you snort. Bubbling in your throat before studying his expression that remains the same.

“Wed? You're going to torture yourself and me by continuing that? Come on, Zayne. It's not too late for us to end this. We'll have our separate ways and you will get your happy ending. Don't always try to play the thoughtful son. I'm sure daddy and mommy will understand you and so are mine.” You sighed, shaking your head in surrender.

“We're both adults.” You muttered under your breath but enough for him to hear it.

“We should save this conversation for another time.” Zayne's voice the same sharp tone and you sighed.

The vast garden wasn't enough to cover the whole residence where Zayne lives. The large windows occupy most of the walls. Letting the natural sunlight in, creating a atmosphere for relaxation. A spacious living room greets you. The color schemes mixes of white and gray with a touch of greenery in the corners. There's also a mezzanine which you assume is Zayne's office. A glass window were also placed there and he can see the entirety of the living room.

This is going to be your home. Temporarily.

You won't be staying in a house that doesn't feel like home with him. Someone who's heart belonged to another. Home is where the person is and you were a stranger but a intruder is more befitting way to call it.

Zayne hovers behind you as he guides you upstairs. Afraid that you'll trip or lose balance. Although he's against of you being discharged so early in the hospital. Knowing the risk and complications that your body have to suffer due to your internal injuries but you can be so headstrong at things and to avoid certain complications he gave up to your wishes in exchange that he's supervising your whole recovery.

He stares at you. Trying to gauge at your reactions but met with the same gaze as you scan the room. Muttering a small thank you under your breath again. Resigned at your current situation with him. As someone perceptive, Zayne knows what's currently going on your mind. You were tired and is still on the process of recovering. The wounds may yet to heal on your skin but deep inside your heart was long shattered and even he's in the expertise of curing heart diseases he can't fix what he broke.

Was he this dismissive and cold towards you during the times when you tried to initiate things? Of making efforts to gain his attention? Of trying to know him since although the match is wasn't you both wanted, you wanted to have a common ground with him and only to ignore you.

“Is the bed comfortable for you?” He asks, following your movements as he watches you take a seat in the edge of the bed. “It's fine.” You shrugged. “Can you leave me alone now? We both have a long day.” Shooting him a glance before looking down to your clasped hands in your lap. “I'll be back later.” Zayne curtly nods before he stops in his tracks like he's about to say something and then decided it wasn't worth it. You hear the door shut.

After a dinner meticulously prepared by him and watching you like a hawk while you eat. Making sure you were taking spoonfuls after spoonfuls of food that your body needed. You were back in your bedroom, dressed in loose pajamas. It was engraved to you to dress in loose clothings since it was needed for better access when doctors and nurses check your vitals. It was easier and you're not putting Zayne in more work and to stay longer with you.

The few buttons of your top were undone. Zayne methodically moves the diaphragm of his stethoscope pressed in your chest. “Breathe slowly.” He instructed you and you did. You weren't embarrassed nor insecure as he listened to the sound of your heart. You were literally poked and prodded while you were undergoing surgery and Zayne have probably seen you naked during your stay at the hospital. “Breathing's good. However I advice you to be in bed rest in the next days and some light exercise will do.” Spoken like a true professional. He takes his stethoscope and you button your pajama top.

“You can call me anytime, (Y/N).” You weakly nod. Your head hitting the pillows and pulling the covers up.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” Zayne says to you as he reached your bedroom door. He was only meet with silence.

In the years of Zayne being a doctor, it was common for comatose patients to experience withdrawal and he understands what you're going through at the moment. You were in coma while the world continued to spin and everyone getting on with their lives but it wasn't just withdrawal you were experiencing. There comes the fear and the guilt after your outburst. He knows you were shaken up by the moment those words left your mouth.

It was his fault. He never should have made you feel the way of never being enough for him. He should have made his intentions clear towards you and not let you run around circles. Throwing you in a loop and only to destroy what left of your respect towards yourself. The conversation earlier in his car replayed in his mind. You wanted him to call off the engagement and go in separate ways. You were contemplating about it for a long time and finally have the courage to tell it to his face. There was no happy ending for this arrangement but Zayne was willing to try. Start over again with you and pick up the broken pieces of your heart. That leaves him to a question, is your heart still intact for him?

Dr. Miles Peterson — Chief of Trauma Surgery.

You briefly glanced at the name plate placed in his glass table before returning to your gaze at the man that was one of who operated you after your accident. Normally, the chief isn't typically involved with the check ups but since you're the fiancee of the esteemed cardiac surgeon — Dr. Zayne, the VIP treatment was there and it doesn't bode with you well.

“So far as good, your reflexes are back to normal and after the follow up scans everything seems fine. Are you—”

Before the trauma surgeon could continue, the glass doors opened and revealed Zayne. “Excuse me.” He greets, his gaze landing on his fellow surgeon before yours.

“Oh, Dr. Zayne.” You can hear the slight waver of his voice. Clearly intimidated by Zayne's presence. It wasn't also the age of the cardiac surgeon intimidated his peers but his achievements and pioneering on his chosen field of expertise although they were different.

The trauma surgeon, Dr. Peterson gestures for Zayne to sit down in the seat across yours. “Please, do not mind me.” Zayne speaks in his professional tone. The same even and measured of his voice still commands authority even in the simplest of conversation.

“So going back, Miss. Have you been experiencing any discomfort or lingering pains in the affected areas?” Dr. Peterson continued to ask you.

Zayne can see the slight hesitation in your face. The twiddling of fingers in clasped hands rested on your lap and he can see how you swallow. There's still the nervousness when you get to be questioned with certain doctors.

“She does.” Zayne cuts you off. The trauma surgeon's full attention was on him. “There's episode of phantom pains, the brain interpreting the affected nerves as signal for pain but there's no mistaking that her thoracic region is still affected by the injuries and is still in the process of healing. Aside from that the tenderness of her abdomen is long gone and is functioning well.”

“That's expected. It may take another months for it to disappear. Don't worry, Miss. With the right medication and therapy it will be gone in no time.” He explains and Dr. Peterson noticed the glare you were giving Zayne.

Uh, oh. Is there trouble in paradise? He thought to himself. It was the same look his wife gave to him. Sensing the tension in the air, he briefly ends the discussion.

This one was new scene unfolding in front of him. The great Dr. Zayne is having trouble with his relationship. He guessed not all relationships have the perfect touch of happiness and since Dr. Zayne is young, it was bound to happen. He lets out an exhale. Relationships sure takes hardwork.

“You don't have to accompany me in every check-up. I can manage it on my own.” You started, Zayne was starting to annoy you with his constant hovering over you.

“It is necessary. I need to know everything that happens to your body since I take care of you.” Zayne calmly explained as you walked besides him. His white coat abandoned and underneath that coat he usually wears is his three-piece neutral colored suits.

“I'm going home.” Spinning your heel around towards the nearest exit but before you can take a step, Zayne stops you. “No, I'm taking you home. Let me grab my things and we can go home.”

Fuck. Why was he so adamant in being this around to you? It was suffocating. If you were the same person before you got tired of him, of chasing him — you have jumped out of joy earlier but now, you want to be treated like air again.

It was difficult.

Zayne pushes the shopping cart while you walked besides him in the aisle of the department store. The grocery was quite depleted since you started living with him and Zayne was the one who usually picks up the needed stuff in the house along with a warm meal — it was the first time you both did it. Mindlessly and silent walking while you both take a look on the available items displayed in the shelves.

He was about to turn around when a familiar voice called out to him. It was familiar to you too. How could you forget that voice. Your body turns rigid. A lump forming in your throat. It was immediate. The tears forming at the corner of your eyes, pooling at your eyelids. You desperately fluttered your eyes in a series of blinks. Stopping the dam that was threatening to spill.

She didn't notice you. You can walk away and not see how they would lovingly gaze at each other. A silent romance that bloomed between them before time existed. You felt like a intruder. A villain who stopped them from getting their destined fate. Breaking them apart and no matter how you destroyed their bond. They will always come back and find each other.

“Zayne! Fancy seeing you here. I came to the hospital but you left early.” She cheerily greets him, her voice bubbly with the genuine air around her. She was so nice.

Sensing that you were about to run away again. Zayne firmly holds your hand in his and no matter how you tried to discreetly take your hand off him, he keeps the tight grip on yours.

“I apologize, I was accompanying my fiancee, (Y/N).” It was your time to finally meet her this close and with that, you keep your tears at bay. “Hello, nice to meet you.” Politely greeting her and even you wanted to cry, you muster the most sincere smile you can offer.

Concern was plastered to her face when she noticed the misty glazed in your eyes. “Are you okay?” She asks. You smiled at her gently. “Don't worry. It's just allergies. No biggie.” You assured her.

“Oh, I should be going to the restroom. Zayne can talk to you now.” You yank your own hand from him. Tapping his shoulder and smiling back again to her. You walked away from them with your held high and the tears that was threatening to spill earlier came rolling down your cheeks freely.

Thankfully, the restroom was vacant. Your tears were dried up, the moment you entered. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look ghastly. Shabby compared to her. You look at your sweater. Stained with the droplets of your tears. What are you a kid?

You reach our for a tissue. Dabbing it to dry the sweater. You look so stupid every time you look at her. The ugly insecurities that keeps surfacing after you buried showing up again and again. Everything's so stupid at you. Fucking choice of clothing. A oversized baby blue sweater and long dark denim skirt with white sneakers while she looks so chic in her red ruffled hem top with a open black sleeve shrug and a tight black jeans with her black combat boots.

She's everything you're not.

She's beautiful with all her charms. She holds Zayne's affections. We're you really that bad in your past life that you need to be punished so bad. To witness a love that transcends time without knowing each other and ending up in every timeline.

The texture of the tissue being repeatedly rubbed raw to your dampened cheeks caused it to sting. The tears continuously flowing and no matter how much the tissue soaks of your tears, it continues. The sink was filled with tissues soaked with your tears.

Your reflection was mocking you. Did the gods cursed you and granted you to be this ugly. You look so dumb right now. Crying your eyes out in front of the mirror and you convinced yourself you weren't hurt anymore.

By the time you were done crying, it looks like life was drained out of your face. Moisture was drawn out and your eyes are red in the rims. That's what you get for crying. You turned on the faucet and let the cold water run in your palm before splashing your face. You slapped your round cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths and checking your reflection again. Making sure your face are not that puffy than it's usual puffiness and your eyes weren't that red anymore.

It's okay. It won't hurt anymore. You tell to yourself. You'll break free from this farce of an engagement.

Zayne followed your retreating form and you got your eyes glossy again. The sight breaking his heart all over again. He looks at her. “I apologize, you can reschedule your appointment again. I must go.” He didn't wait for her response and followed you. Leaving a puzzled her and the abandoned shopping cart.

He take out his phone and presses the tracking app. It was needed. You have the tendency to wander off in your own and from the coordinates of your location you were still around the area. You weren't lying when you said you needed the restroom and Zayne waits for you outside.

“(Y/N).” Zayne calls out to you. He takes your hand in his. Linking it to his once again. “Let's go home.” Your brows furrow. “What about the groceries? What about her?” He shakes his head. The strands of his hair swaying to the movements of his head.

“It's nothing. We can do it another day. I'm sorry for forcing you out here. You're tired. Let's pick some takeout, okay?” He suggested and he pulls you closer towards him.

Was your hands were always this soft? Plush and gentle, a contrast to his own calloused hands. The slender digits perfectly fitting in your own pillowy ones. He should have held your hands more. The warmth of your own palms seeping through his colder ones. Providing him the safety of being yours.

That night, Zayne have watched you climbed up in the stairs. Shutting the door of your room. You didn't join him at dinner that night.

When Zayne made sure you were asleep. He slowly opens the door. He can make the outline of your plush body under the covers. Sleeping soundly after being jaded out by today's event. The bed dips by his added weight. Leaning towards your side. His elbow propped above your head.

He studies your expression. Gently gazing at the softness of your features. There's your eyes shut but cried so many tears because of him. You were not her. Although he feels they shared many lifetimes with no memories of it. She feels like home. The jasmines will always reminds him of her but what about you. You weren't at fault here. You loved him genuinely and in exchanged he hurt you.

Love must know sacrifices. He knows it very well. He did — a thousand times.

However when the night you were on that gurney, bleeding and unconscious. It was the first time he felt what it was truly to lose someone.

His fingertips grazes at the surface of your plump cheek. It was warm. “I keep hurting you,.... don't I?” He whispers. “I'm sorry.” It was a apology for being unfair to you.

“Mmm....” Your eyes fluttered open. Your voice riddled with sleep. “Stop hurting me, Zayne. Stop hurting us.” You slowly blinked and your breath goes back to the same steady rhythm and when he grasp your cheek. A tear rolled down from your eyes.

Of all the things he could have done. He presses a kiss to your temple. Staying for a minute by your side while he listens to your heart beat. Thump..... thump.... thump.... the sound of your heart beat, slow and steady. You were alive in his arms and the thumping of your heart lulls him to sleep and for the first time, he slept peacefully that night besides you. No nightmares to haunt him.

It must be your brain playing tricks on you or it was the side effects of your brain being squished from the accident. Last night, you went early to bed with your stomach grumbling but the tiredness washed over you then something cold grazes you. A voice whispering and you see Zayne. You mumbled something and then the drowsiness took you again and brought you back to your dreamland.

The images were eerily vivid and you can't differentiate if it occured on last night's bout. You only shrugged it off.

There's the faint sweet scent of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup as you slowly descended down from the flight of stairs and in the kitchen you see Zayne plating the warm pancakes.

He takes the glasses and placed it along besides your plates in the respective place. The steam from his mug filled with coffee dances.

“Good morning.” You greeted out of courtesy.

“We should eat together. You must be hungry since you didn't eat last night.” The neutral monotone voice of his is tinge with softness.

“Don't you need to be in the hospital now?” You asked out of curiosity. Lately, Zayne's been acting more hands on to you despite the speedy recovery and it totally weirded you out.

“I've got an hour before I go and you must eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and should not be missed.” He says, pulling out the barstool under the counter. You sit besides him.

Zayne watches you take a bite of your breakfast before starting on his. There's only the subtle sound of utensils clinking and a beat of silence before you broke it.

“Zayne?” You asked without looking. Focused on the delicious meal in front of you.

The surgeon pauses and then hums in acknowledgement. “I'm continuing my work at the museum.” You revealed to him and it's not like he can dictate what you want to do.

Working in one of the biggest museums in Linkon as a curator wasn't your dream job but it's something you certainly enjoyed. You only told him as being civil to him since you live in the same roof and you can get away from him.

Your fiance puts his cup down. The green in his eyes flickering with hardness before returning to its usual pallor. “Although I'm against the idea of you being back in your work, I must say it's better for the sake of your health. You've been cooped up here for too long.” There's a tinge of reluctance in his voice but you ignored it as you angled yourself to look at him.

He meet your gaze and you offered him a small smile. It didn't reach your eyes, Zayne noticed that. It was a look of politeness and resigned at the same time. Your eyes seems dull since that accident and the unexpected meeting with her.

His fingers twitches. The slender digits rising to reach yours but forms into a curl. He knows he's making it worst towards you.

The breakfast ended with no words being exchanged after the brief conversation.

That was mistake. A poor judgement in his part.

It was a logical reason on his part to allow you back. You have your freedom and a career during the duration of your nonexistent relationship with him. Arranged but never engaged to each other's lives. It's his own words but you made the efforts to support him and be involved in his life. In which he falls short of. He treated you like you were his obligation.

Now, he's getting the taste of his own medicine.

Zayne have been staring at his phone for the last thirty minutes. Barely glancing at the reports needed to be typed, the consultations that needed to be scheduled and doing his rounds. Waiting for the text message that will never come.

It was slow. The usual things you do for him slowly disappearing right before his eyes. His desk felt empty and devoid of any bright color that usually occupies his desk. There's always a sprig of jasmine in the corner. The one that you always brought with you when you visit him. Knowing the significance of it on his life.

How painful must it be to you that the flower was a symbol of his affection towards her and you kept giving it to him as reminder of their many shared lives.

A spectator. Silently watching while your heart breaks at any given moment. You didn't beg and wistfully respected his wishes. What truly hurts you is when the times he acted like he was being forced to be in your presence and you kept silent about it. Blaming yourself entirety for his shortcomings.

Zayne takes off his silver wired glasses. He sees the time in his clock and it was time for him to clock out and pick you up.

The museum where you worked at is one of the biggest buildings in Linkon. He parks outside near the exit where he knows you'll be appearing anytime soon.

It didn't take too long for him to wait for you. He was about to open the door when suddenly a man approaches you, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You were startled at first and from the looks of your relaxed body language, you knew the person. Accepting the flowers with a grateful expression before bidding a goodbye.

You saw him but you didn't bother to hide the flowers in your hands. You only greeted him and went to his car like you always did when Zayne started picking you up after hours of your work.

You stare at the space in front of you before looking at Zayne who was doing the same. His eyes fixated on the bouquet of flowers resting in your lap. “Who is he?” Zayne asks you nonchalantly. Studying your expression with a shrug you answered him. “It's Theo from work. A colleague.” Absentmindedly stroking the velvety petals.

“Why the flowers?” He clears his throat. Gripping the steering wheel before igniting the car, there's the faint thrum of the car and Zayne began to drive. You paid no mind to his question, not finding any sense or malice and it was harmless.

“Just celebratory flowers, I guess. Me coming back to work and recovering from the accident.” Your voice soft and sincere, he glances at you before returning his gaze to the road.

“And you don't see anything more to it?” You raise a brow at his question. There's a underlying meaning to it but it could be just your imagination.

“Yeah. It's just flowers and I think it's nice to receive them.” Focusing your gaze on the road.

“I see. He must have put a lot of thought on them. It seems he likes you..... A lot.” His tone wasn't accusatory but the usual same monotone voice and there's a weight on it.

“Why do you care? It's not you to meddle with my affairs. I'll admit I like Theo but it's the not the way you think of it. He's cool and the typical friendly colleague you'll find in a certain work jobs and I know there must be in yours too and I don't care about your relationship with others.” You let out a slow, heavy sigh. Something between frustration and disbelief.

“I apologize for upsetting you and implying that you're invested in your colleague's behavior towards you. It didn't strike me that you're fond of flowers.” Gods. Zayne was getting in your nerves these days and if it wasn't for his constant hovering, this one took the cake.

“I'm not and thank you for noticing. It doesn't hurt to receive flowers once in a while without asking.” You replied sarcastically, you didn't even realize that you were gripping the stems of the flowers before loosening. Apologetically caressing the almost wilted flowers.

You asked Zayne once about giving you flowers but that was your mistake. You thought girls asks for that kind of stuff but if he wanted, he could. It just didn't matter to him and that was the last time. You received flowers, many times but it doesn't mean anything special if it wasn't from Zayne, it's meaningless.

He knows but he didn't have the capacity to give it to you and you were stupid and naive for entertaining the idea that you're special to him. It was a well wasted time begging for his attention.

The ride all the way home settled in a silent one. You didn't even notice his hard grip on the steering wheel.

The peonies were a nice vibrant shade of yellows and pink. It was a nice arrangement with baby's breath being added and from the looks of your contented smile, you loved it before the familiar unshed tears glossing in to your dark eyes.

The twitch in your hands, the familiar rubbing of your thumb and index fingers together in your clasped hands. If he speak even a single word, you'll break again. That's why he remained silent. Seeing you cry because of him was painful enough and he's only giving you more reasons to be hurt — again and again.

He doesn't love you. Though the sight of you with a another man brought a sensation that he wasn't familiar with. His ears burn more like a tingling feeling. The sudden tightness of his throat and his chest felt like it was being weigh down by something heavy. A nagging voice echoes in his end although no words were said. The more he sees you smiling from the thought of your supposedly colleague who may have or have not feelings for you that is not entirely professional than what you think.

Is it jealousy he was feeling? It was such an ugly feeling. A cancer to one's being and he didn't like it one bit when you're close to someone who's not him. You can be distant to him as anytime you like but he can never tolerate you being close to others.

He finds you later at night in the kitchen. Clutching a piping bag as you carefully put dollops of batter into the parchment tray. A perfect circle for his favored baked goods. The sight feels of warmth. Seeing you wearing that apron dusted with flour and the other dry ingredients.

After tapping the sheet pan a few times to remove air bubbles, setting it aside to let it rest as you moved to make the filling. It was quite tasking, singlehandedly whisking the ingredients and Zayne joins you to your little baking session.

“You're going to develop carpal tunnel if you bend your hands like that while whisking.” He takes your hand from behind. His thumb gliding over to your wrist before holding the back of your hand. Gently guiding your own in small circles before putting enough speed and not to strain your wrist. He places his other hand to the other that holds the mixing bowl.

You didn't protest. Quite taken aback at the sudden gesture. You feel the hard planes of his body behind you. His gaze following your every move that he holds on his own. “You ought to teach me sometime.” He casually commented. Keeping his grip firm on yours. You didn't respond and it's only the sound of the whisk scraping the contents of the mixing bowl.

It took a few minutes before the filling reached the desired consistency. Zayne slides his hands above your arms before pulling. When he steps back to give you space, you turn around. Without warning he reaches forward. He gently lifts your face to meet his gaze.

He feels you stiffen under his touch before using his thumb to wipe the flour smeared to your cheek. “You got something here.” He caresses your round cheek. His touch lingering on your skin, mesmerized by the softness before his gaze landed on your lips. There's a slight tremble to your lips and he let go.

None of you dared to speak. Funny, he's taking interest now. You snapped and he made the efforts to reach out to you. To know you better. He's making up for the past neglect and you weren't angry anymore at him.

A small bitter smile is drawn to your lips as you take the sight of the baking tools cluttered in his kitchen counter. It was desperation when you first learned how to bake. Wanting to impress him with his favorite sweets once you learned he has a sweet tooth. It took trial and error. Then what once act of desperation turned into a hobby that you greatly enjoyed.

You realize all of your life was built on trying to get the cardiac surgeon's attention to you. From certain interests to personal choices.

Or perhaps it was his guilt that telling him to act this way. Turned the tables to care for you.

“You're really acting weird, Zayne.” A deep frown being etched in your face. You brushed the advances he did after the accident. You weren't in no mood to deal with those kind of affections.

“How so?” His voice gentle towards you.

“You never bothered to do stuff with me before. You always brush me off and now, this?” Your hand covers your stomach. Rubbing your side to comfort yourself. He follows your movement.

“Are you feeling guilt after the accident, Zayne?” His fingers twitched. His jaw clenches and something dark clouded over his eyes before returning to their normal. He was silent for a bit.

You take his silence as a cue to continue. “I got hurt days after my drunken outburst and you think it's your fault this happened and you're feeling guilty — You should stop doing things that should have made me happy if I were still my stupid self. I don't need you looking after me because you think you're responsible for all of this. I don't want to be treated like I'm a task that you can't get rid of.” You avoided his gaze. Nibbling on your lower lip.

The words stung. Part of it was true and the other half was a lie. Zayne did truly care for you. The nightmare that vividly appeared on his dreams while you lay unconscious in the hospital bed came surfacing.

You are his responsibility. Whatever the consequences of your actions or what happened to you is his to carry since you were about to be his wife.

He takes your remarks seriously. He leans in close towards you. “I admit it was guilt but I was wrong. I was scared. I was afraid that I've truly lost you and what I feel for you right now is entirely different.” He brushes his knuckles along your round cheek.

Zayne looks at you straight in the eyes. There is some emotion you can't recognize behind them but it spoke volumes of sincerity and tenderness. “You are not an obligation. You are my responsibility. The moment our marriage was decided, I vowed to myself that I'll take care of you. I apologize if it's not what you wanted. I'm not quite versed in this kind of things.” His voice trails off like he was unsure of his words.

“But when it came to her, it all feels natural doesn't it? Like it was meant for her.” You retorted. There was no harm in it. It was merely the truth.

“I'm not chastising you for it and I really don't blame you. I accepted it a long time ago. You don't have to pretend, Zayne.” You take his wrist before putting it to his side. Shaking your head slightly. A serene calm washing over you. It stung a lot but you weren't upset about it anymore.

“I'm not pretending, (Y/N). My relationship with her is strictly professional. That's all.”

Truth be told. Zayne was losing feelings for her. He made her relationship with her as nothing but a physician to his patient. There wasn't any outdoor activities besides the confines of his office. It was all for the sake of check ups and nothing more. And if he cared, it's the kind of care a doctor will give to his patient and nothing more.

He was honest. The moment the words left his lips, the realization dawns in. There was no longing or hesitation nor the conflicting emotions swirling behind his words. It was hard for you to accept it.

“It's all in the past now. What I want is in front of me.” His voice sincere, dangerously and surprisingly tender. Your eyes widens and he presses a kiss to your forehead. His arms wrapping behind you as he holds you in his arms. Your head on his chest. You didn't return his hug, your arms hanging in your side.

Despite all of that gestures, you can't shake the feeling that you were trapped now.

Zayne entered your room after knocking and he finds you sitting near the cushioned area by the window. Curled in the spot and your cheek is pressed in the glass window. Absentmindedly staring at the rain drops rolling down in the window pane.

You turned your head slightly to glance at him. Barely acknowledging his presence already used what he's about to do. The mandatory body checkups before you go to bed. He's on his sleepwear.

He sits across you, you have a enough space for him. You can feel his body heat through your pajamas. Warming your cold legs. “Is something the matter?” He inquires. Joining you in watching rain drops racing down. The downpour was still heavy outside.

You look at him, resigned. “Yeah.” His gaze softens, his gaze flickers to your plush body. The pajamas you wore fits to your body perfectly. He looks at you before you can notice his gaze wandering.

“I'm going to return to my home.”

“You are home.” His voice flat. Leaving no space for you to argue but your emotions were stronger.

“I'm not. I think it's the right time for us to talk, Zayne.” His heart skips a beat, not liking where this conversation is going but his face remains the same stoic look.

“You don't have to take care of me anymore and I don't want to be married to you.” You say it — loud and clear.

“Is this what you truly desire? What about your parents?” You didn't notice the way his gaze darkened.

“Yes. My parents will understand and yours too. We're both adults that won't be tied by their wishes and don't act like you don't have a choice. You'll figure it out.” He can see clearly the misty glazed of your eyes.

“It didn't have to be this way. We can both work it out.”

“No, it won't. I don't want you to only pay me attention when I'm injured or I'm in my death bed or I'm spewing curses at you. I don't want you being this sweet, clingy, possessive guy who gets upset at me being with others. You can be controlling too even you don't realize it.” You shifted from your position, standing up like his presence suffocates you.

“I don't want that, Zayne. I don't want to get tied to you. I don't want to be with you anymore.” Your voice cracks at the last line. Zayne stands up, approaching you.

“It was nice knowing you and I must have been lucky for a short amount of time for the way you took care of me.” You mutter under your breath and Zayne hears every syllables of your words under the silence of the room. He hears all of it. The small sighs you emit.

He cups your face in his hands. His expressions unreadable.

The roundness of your cheek, a perfect fit to his palm, like it was meant to hold you. A bitter smile appears on your face. A crystalline clear liquid flows down from your eyes before he wipes it with his thumb.

“Set us free, Zayne. I don't want to be hurt by you anymore and I don't want to hurt you. There's no point for staying in each other's lives.” The sound of your voice rings in his ears. He doesn't want to do it. He's into deep to let you go now. What once denied is being accepted and Zayne would rather drive himself into madness than let you go.

He leans to kiss you but you avoided his kiss before he can touch your lips. He only kissed your cheek and his eyes darkened.

“I won't.” There's a pregnant pause before he continues. The sudden drop of temperature made you shiver and you didn't know if Zayne was using his Evol. “ I won't let you go. You're mine. You were promised to me and I'm going to fulfill it.” He presses his body to your soft body.

“What are you doing?” Panic streaks to your once resigned voice. His touch rough. Gripping your pillowy waist with strength that borders on painful. There's a certain urgency on his voice.

“I'm showing you my undivided attention.” The room got colder as he spoke those words. A shiver running down your spine. You meet his gaze and to meet with those same flecks of gold in his green eyes swirling with emotion you can't discern. The coldness and was it darker than the usual?

You turn around to run but his hand caught your wrist. Forcing you to get back to him.

A cry rips from your throat as Zayne pushes you down in the soft duvet of your bed. He holds your head behind to soften the blow as your body collided on the bed and within seconds his hands pins your own.

“Zayne, stop!” You begged, frantically scrambling to escape his deathly grip. “I'm not going to stop even you beg and cry. I'm yours and you're mine. I have every right to touch you as I please.” His voice colder than the usual and you feel the full blow of it.

Tears streamed down your eyes as he forcefully kisses you. His lips were cold and the contact of your lips in his made it warm.

“No!” He hears you cry again. Pinching your side and it made you gasp. He wasted no time shoving his tongue inside you. Swirling his tongue in places he can reach. Tangling the wet muscle of his own to yours. “Mmph... — hah” Kissing you deeply as he can to show you how he can mark you as his own. Claiming you as his.

He moves your arm above with his hand still pinned on you. Leveled on your head and putting the pressure that you can't move the right part of your body while he kisses you. His brain and body moves in sync. Letting go of your left hand, his fingers deftly unbuttons your top. Pulling the remaining buttons until they popped. Revealing the warm, creamy texture of your skin.

“Ssh, don't resist. It's going to feel good soon.” He assures you and despite the relentless begging for him to stop, he didn't. Continuing the assault, his hand wandering from place to place. Mapping every inch of your body. Committing every detail of your beauty marks on his mind. He studied a lot of human bodies but yours were different. Lush and full with warmth that only you can give.

His lips traveled down to your chin and to the side of your neck. Adorning you with his kisses despite the incessant squirming. He will never let his guard down or give you the opportunity to escape from his hold.

You're soft. Undeniably soft. Your skin reminds him of those fluffy cakes he used to indulge himself with. Sweet and warm. The words repeatedly plays in his mind while he tastes your flesh. He made sure to leave a mark on your neck.

Your cries goes weak by the minute. The soft gasps you desperately muffles spills the more his hand wanders. He pauses. Staring at your face stained with tears.

What was he doing? This isn't like him but if it's only the way you can stay so be it. He can later reflects his action.

He takes your hand in his. Kissing your knuckles. You squirmed at his touch and you dared to look at him.

“If I stop, will you change your mind and stay with me?”

You remained unmoving beneath him. Another fresh batch of tears rolling down at the corner of your eyes.

“No. It won't change anything.” You meekly answered. Trying to escape his grasp.

“Very well.”

That is what you last heard.

The surgeon could get used to mornings like this. Waking up next to you, your naked body pressed against his chest and watch you sleep. Last night's exertions was too much for you to handle and he did try to be gentles as possible to you but his feelings took over.

The dark bruises in your skin was the testament of it and there's nothing like quite like it. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder. Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

His cold hand caressing the exposed flesh of your body under the covers. His hand rests on your round stomach. It was a mesmerizing sight as he remembers it jiggling while he moves inside you. Kissing your tears goodbye, worshipping you like you deserved.

A thought crosses his mind. He don't mind having a child with you before the wedding. It makes his claim stronger towards you. A underhanded method that you won't ever leave him.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne #lads angst #non mc reader #zayne x non mc #zayne x chubby reader #love and deepspace angst #love and deepspace #chubby reader angst #x reader angst

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii, I have a request- could you do like jealous or after arguement smex- you can pick any sort of of storyline or any jjk character. (prefferbly a character like sukuna or toji because i feel like they'd be kind mean about it)

Tyy

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oof, i think after an argument, sex w/kuna would go crazyyy (esp true form! like yikes)

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭��: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - fingering (f! receiving) - impact play (spanking + pussy slaps) - clitoral play (grinds, swipes, and pinches) - biting - pinching - degradation (bitch, whore) - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - backshots/doggy position - pet names ([little]dove, my wife, pet, woman) - multiple orgasms - mention of drool/spit and blood.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

You dare avoid him? The King of Curses? Did the screws in your brain finally come loose, and now you’ve gone mad?

Ryōmen Sukuna rarely lets things slide. He is considered the top dog of the cursed Jujutsu world – he doesn’t find himself bowing down to things because things are supposed to bow to him. Anything and everything doesn’t go unnoticed under his gaze, as that’s the order of things that are supposed to happen.

And this philosophy doesn’t stop with you — his little dove.

Being engaged to a human spouse already raises flags of inconsistency. It isn’t rare for you and Sukuna to argue; the workers of the fortress where you reside can attest to this. The love is there, but Sukuna expects you to understand your standing in this marriage. You may be what he always keeps by his side. However, even you shouldn’t overstep him so carelessly.

Nonetheless, your humanness continues to poke him; your resilience is a thorn to your giant husband’s side. The more disagreements you clash with him, the bolder you’ve become in your standing, which makes the cursed man proud, albeit prefers it wasn’t directed towards him.

And now, after he puts his thunderous foot down and shuts you up with your bickering, you decide to be courageous enough to turn your back on him? Him? Your betrothed? He couldn’t believe what he saw; your expression molded to neutrality before you turned on your heel and headed somewhere away from him. And then you don’t respond when he calls out to you — the absolute nerve.

Oh, you knew Sukuna wasn’t the one to be daring with, especially when you think you can get the last laugh. So, it would be best if he corrected your foolishness.

“—Dahhh! Su’kunaa, stop! Let go—Ohhh!”

“Shut your mouth. Think you’re in any position to order me now, huh?”

He has you pinned to the tatami flooring, his upper hand on your head to keep your cheek printed on the mat despite your cries. The upper right hand has a good hold on your waist while his lower right hand grips your ankle to keep your legs spread. And with the lower left, he uses it to tease and toy with your chasm. The mouth of his chasm laps around your labia to lick the fluids that coat your slit while his middle and ring fingers grind on your sore clitoris.

This is your punishment: your husband reprimanding you as he gesticulates around your body. You can cry and holler all you want, squirm out of his hold when knowing your efforts are futile. He doesn’t care because he knows that he will make this point to you no matter what.

The tongue of his palm easily swallows your essence, pushing the muscle into your cunt to fuck you. You nearly choke on spit, sensing the considerable muscle swirl around your insides and graze your walls. “Mmph! Oh, fuck—Nnnm! Sukuna, no! I just came seconds ag—Oooh!”

“Do I care?” He raises his sole pink brow, four red eyes scanning your figure, writhing because of his touch. “You will cum however many times I say, my wife.” He draws out the last words to your ear, enjoying how small you appear under his massive shape.

He lives for your shrieks, your pitch going higher and higher with every flick of his tongue. Swiping your clit makes it harder to maintain balance, your resolve slipping through your fingers with every push and pull of the abnormal tongue.

“Hahhh, ahhhshit, shiiiit,” your eyebrows scrunch together, nails purchasing on the tatami mat beneath you, which you’re sure your scratches would cause damage. Again, not that your jerk of a spouse would care; he is probably getting a kick out of you losing your poise because of him. “Ooh, ‘Kunaa, y’re going too fast…Nnnn !”

“Oh? Does the dove think I’m going too fast?” Sukuna licks the helix of your ear tantalizingly slow, and you gasp when he bites it while the mouth of his palm sloppily kisses the entrance of your vagina. “You wish to cum again, woman?”

You nod hurriedly, his chuckle rumbling to the core of your heart. The hand on your waist comes up to smack your ass, denting the skin by piercing his fingertips. You howl in pain, “Yesss, I wanna cum again!”

“Hmph, no,” he removes his hand from your throbbing folds before slapping it; the abrupt action erupts a choked sob. Screams fly out at the pinch of his fingers on your delicate bud; the pain from your chasm stings, making your head pound. “You’re not some whore who gets to cum when they want; you’re mine, and cumming without my permission will get you into predicaments worse than this. Are we clear, pet?”

You had no choice in the matter, propping your ass up and your face down, forcing you to take his two cocks with both of your holes.

“Aiishhh, oh Lord, Shhlow down! I’m t’oo full…!”

“Mmnn, khheh, I bet you are, grippin’ on my cocks like a real bitch in heat…”

His lower hands keep hold of your hips, keeping you glued to his pelvis as he pistons his fat dicks into your ass and vagina. The tip brushes on your inner walls, and you mewl at every push as the girth stretches your caves. His upper hands keep you held down to the floor, submitting you to his robust stature that easily swallows your small frame.

Your face is still on the floor, drool trickling down your lips as ineligible babbles seep out. “Nnmahh, ahhaa…!” God, he puts so much strength on your poor body; the inability to move or move away from him keeps you immovable for him.

Sukuna’s pace is unforgiving, propelling himself into your leaky wetness with no remorse. The fact that he has you come two times already doesn’t concern him; if anything, it aids him in pushing to and fro from your tight cunt. He bites his lip from how your rear contracts around him—so snug for his dual limbs as if you’d milk him dry.

“Fsshoo, ohhmy Go—Daah!” A hand finds its way to the left wrist on your shoulder. “Ohh, ‘Kunaa!”

Your wails are broken when he bends down; the added weight is so lethal that you might end up being pressed and being one with the tatami mat. “Hmm? What is it, woman?”

“—Ahhck! Fuuuhuck, pleaseee, can I pwease cu–Uhhmm?!”

You make him snicker, pulling back his rhythm to implement slow yet harsh ruts to your openings while throwing a slap to your asscheek. “Why should I let you?”

A tear rolls down your hot cheek. “Pleasee, forg’ve me! I shouldn’t have…turned my back on you...”

Crimson eyes narrow while observing the way your ass quakes from his powerful pounds. Sukuna then comes to your shoulder to bite on your shoulder, and of course, you yelp bitterly. The sight of his canines drawing blood from his mark dials his excitement. “Say it properly, pet,” he purrs as he licks the wound on your shoulder.

“Mmmm! Suk’naa, my Lord…”

“Hmm?” He cups and squeezes your cheeks with his upper left for access to kiss your neck, and the lower left snakes down to play with your clit again. You gasp from the sensation of the tongue of his stomach licking your back, the colossal muscle having you arch like a cat.

Rubs on your pearl have you squeaking for him and eyes rolling upward— all desperate and aching for your release that you could break any moment. “Forgive me for stepping out of line...Hooooh, I wanna cum on yer cocks,” you admit while swaying your hips. “Please allow me to cum.”

“Depends,” you gulp at his quick answer. “This will be your only kind warning for this; if you dare do it again, don’t ever think of asking me.” Sukuna licks your cheek before he chews on the flesh, your breath halting at the graze of his fangs. “Understand?”

Your brave side takes over to turn to him meekly, watery eyes meeting his fierce red ones – a good move on your part. “Yess, my husband…”

And he sneers. “There you go, little dove.”

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inside-lees-mind · 1 year ago

Text

Naruto Characters Accidentally Calling their Girlfriend their Wife

MR KRABSSSS I HAVE AN IDEAAA

Fem reader (or if you want to be called wife)

Characters: Naruto, Sasuke, Shino, Kiba, Shikamaru, Choji, Neji, Rock Lee, Kankuro, and Gaara.

(Masterlist is up now) also I’ll be adding Sai to this in the morning

Naruto Uzumaki

He’s talking to some new people and enthusiastically pulls you to his side, a large smile on his face, and he says “This is my wife! Y/N!”

You can’t hide your shock, not fully at least. He’s never called you his wife before. I mean, he’s said things like “you’ll be my future wife, right?” As he giggles or something.

But you are in a state of shock that he introduced you that way.

Nonetheless, you’re happy.

If the person makes a comment about how young or cute you two are for a married couple, he’d realize. Likely, he’d respond a little oddly, stuttering, but recovers and just full sends with the claim you’re his wife.

Sasuke Uchiha

If he’s with you, you’re gonna be his wife anyways. He didn’t get with you until he was sure of that, because it took him a long time to realize he felt that way anyways.

So he calls you his wife with full confidence, before realizing his mistake. However, he doesn’t care too much to correct himself or anything.

Because you are gonna marry him right? (He’s actually really nervous to propose, but he won’t admit that.)

People would probably just believe him immediately considering just how serious he is about you to even be with you.

When you confront him about it later, he’ll ask you if that was okay, explain it was a mistake, but he’ll probably comment on how he’s dating to marry anyways so… you might as well be his wife.

You can probably expect a proposal soon.

Shino Aburame

I can’t fully see this happening tbh. However, let’s say that it does.

He’d probably over explain himself to the person he referred of you as his wife too.

Not that he doesn’t want you as his wife, but you haven’t said you’ll be his wife yet. So he can’t call you his wife. That’s how he sees it.

He’ll probably think he messed up and upset you, so you’ll have to explain it was cute.

Once you explain to him, he’ll see your point. Maybe with some reluctance to lighten up on himself.

He’ll be happy you want to be seen as his wife though.

Kiba Inuzuka

Realized his mistake, but he could not be bothered.

He will keep on as if there is no mistake. As if you are legally married.

He’ll be upset if you correct him in front of people.

It’ll turn into a bit of an argument if you correct him in any way other than sweetly.

Because what the big deal???

If you leave it alone, and talk to him later, now he’s nervous and stuttering. But he’ll likely comment on how he knows you want to marry him so you might as well be called his wife.

Shikamaru Nara

Immediately realizing what slipped out his mouth.

Does he really want you to be his wife? Well, of course he does. But that’s a lot for him to accidentally spill out to some strangers you’re both meeting.

They don’t know he made a mistake, because you roll with it.

Later, he’ll try to avoid talking about it, but if you bring it up, he’ll say it was a mistake, don’t take it so seriously.

If you seem down about his underwhelming response, he’ll likely have an actual talk about his future with you to reassure you that he was just being an idiot when he said that.

Choji Akimichi

He forgot you’re not his wife.

I think Choji would just love you so much that he would simply treat you like a wife. To the point he forgets, you’re not his wife.

If you comment on it, he’ll think about it and probably be like ohhhh right.

He’ll apologize, but more than likely you’ll just say it was cute.

I can see him calling you wifey.

But if he’s gonna call you that, he’s gotta get you that ring. He’s planning on it as yall speak.

Neji Hyuga

You two are waiting a while before calling it official. Plans of marriage are far off.

He’s a little too traditional to jump at marriage quickly.

So when he accidentally calls you his wife, it was to Hiashi. He went pale. Paler than usual.

Later, depending on how exactly that went, he’ll probably be in his head.

Let’s assume for this though, that Hiashi approves of you completely.

Hiashi made a comment, rather he meant it badly or not, Neji will take it the wrong way. Realize he jumped too far.

You’ll have to tell him you find it cute, and rather his uncle approves of you two or not, you’ll be his wife someday :)

Rock Lee

It COULD be an honest mistake.

But let’s be honest,

It’s Lee.

He calls you his wife to your face, to other people, hell, he’d shout it from the roof tops.

So it’s not an accident. He meant it. He will one day make you his wife, so why would he not call you his wife now!

If you have any reserves about being called his wife before actual marriage, he will pout and be upset. He won’t understand.

But, once that’s over, he’s crying and begging for forgiveness.

Please tell him it’s cute that he wants to marry you, even if you do want to have a talk with him about not assuming roles you don’t officially have.

Gaara

HE CALLED YOU HIS WIFE IN FRONT OF A CROWD. so now he’s blushing.

He might correct his mistake, might not. Depends.

He’s a confident speaker, but that threw him off a little bit.

Likely you were a strong shinobi or something and he was trying to give you credit where it’s due, but it didn’t go as planned.

When you too are alone later, you’ll bring it up likely.

If you tell him you thought it was cute or sweet, he’ll turn bright red like his hair.

He likely won’t go on calling you his wife or anything. Maybe in private.

But he’s not ashamed of it. After all, he’s strongly considering marriage.

Kankuro

Called you his wife to his siblings while you were over for dinner.

Temari is not letting him live it down.

“Hey, I think your wife is trying to get your attention.” “I don’t know, maybe ask your wife?” “What about your wife?” From then on out.

He’s frustrated because it was a mistake, BUTTTT honestly, eventually he’ll make some snarky comment about how at least he’s closer to marriage than she is. Then he probably harps on Shikamaru a little bit in defense for his own comment.

(He approves of Shikamaru tho, if he’s being real. He just thinks it’s a little funny)

As long as this is before a certain point.

He decides to call you his wife to your face.

He’ll call you that to tease you now.

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cosmicpuzzle · 6 months ago

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Venus ♀️ in Houses

Venus in 1st House

You have a keen sense of beauty and refinement and display a pleasant manner to others. You have an appreciation of the arts and music, with a sense of fashion and an ability to make yourself attractive. You like beautiful things in your environment and know how to dress well and make a good impression on other people. You are naturally charming and people generally like being in your company.

Venus in 2nd House

The good things in life appeal to you. You enjoy the things that money can buy and may spend freely on adornments, pleasures and social entertainment. You can tend to be somewhat extravagant, especially if you want to impress or please someone. Financial gain may come to you through the arts, the beauty or fashion industries or the entertainment sectors.

Venus in 3rd House

In love, you are attracted to people who stimulate you intellectually. You have a love of the arts, music, theatre and literature. Charming in your dealings with people, you desire peaceful relations with others and will go to great lengths to avoid arguments and disharmony. Relationships with relatives and neighbors are generally good.

Venus in 4th House

You desire peace and harmony in your domestic and family life. You appreciate fine furnishings and will make every effort to decorate your home tastefully or aesthetically. You enjoy entertaining at home and may be a good cook or a keen gardener.

Venus in 5th House

You have a strongly romantic nature and may experience many affairs of the heart. You know how to enjoy life's pleasures. You are easy-going, popular and well-liked. Other people are attracted to you for your infectious sense of fun. You appreciate the arts and are probably artistically talented in some form of creative expression, especially acting, dancing, music or singing.

Venus in 6th House

Harmony in your work environment is important to you and you seek to maintain positive relationships with the people you work with. You enjoy creative work, being of service to others or working in fields which are particular to the needs of women. In general, you like animals and benefit emotionally through keeping pets.

Venus in 7th House

You blossom and prosper through romantic partnerships or marital union. Partners tend to be attractive and companionable. You are suited to dealing with the public and could enjoy success in personnel work, the art or entertainment industries or the counseling sectors.

Venus in 8th House

Financial benefits are possible through marriage, business partnerships and possibly inheritances. In love, you may be anxious and fearful about loss, which can cause turmoil and difficulties in your intimate relationships. Displays of jealousy and possessiveness by either you or a partner can be destructive.

Venus in 9th House

In love, you may be attracted to someone whose background or culture is different to your own. Romantic experiences can occur during travel. Intimate and social contacts can be made in learning, spiritual or religious environments. You may have an appreciation for the artworks of different cultures and possibly even enjoy religious art and music.

Venus in 10th House

You are socially ambitious and tend to receive the right sort of help from others. Significant personal unions can bring prosperity and social advantage. It is possible you may form an attraction to an employer or a superior in your vocational life. You can be suited to careers that involve the arts and if you have artistic talent you could have success and recognition. Prominent women can influence your professional life.

Venus in 11th House

Your social life is important and you will probably belong to a variety of groups or clubs. Romantic affairs and close friendships can be established through shared activities. In special circumstances, friendships can develop into love affairs, or vice versa. You attract cultured and artistically minded friends who appreciate good taste and refinement.

Venus in 12th House

You enjoy quiet and solitude and occasional periods alone to recharge your emotional batteries. You can be shy and reserved in the expression of your intimate feelings and may harbor unspoken romantic yearnings. Equally, you may have secret admirers or become involved in private love affairs. Be aware that sexual indiscretion can cause scandal and embarrassment.

For Readings/Reports DM

#astrology #astrology observations #zodiac #zodiac signs #astro observations #astro community #vedic astrology #astro notes #vedic astro notes #astrology community #venus in houses #venus in signs #venus in aries #venus in 1st house #venus in 2nd house

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shiplessoceans · 9 months ago

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Moments in House MD that made me absolutely feral as an O.G fan that watched it as it aired back in the naughties, shipping House/Wilson hardcore and not realising I was queer:

1. Wilson loudly reciting a poem to House as he enters the hospital lobby which contains the line: "His manly chest, his stubbled jaw, everything about him leaves me raw.'

2. The look on Wilson's face when a random clinic patient gives House advice about his date with Cameron.

"Do her....or you're gay."

*cue Wilson looking to the side like...wait a minute...*

3. House: "They were not Prada! you wouldn't know Prada if it stepped on your scrotum."

4. Wilson: "House I believe you're a romantic, you didn't just believe him, you believed IN him! Wanna come over tonight, watch old movies and cry?"

5. House (yelling across a crowded lobby to Wilson): "How long can you go without sex?"

6. The look on Wilson's face when he gets a masseuse for House (!) and she massages his hand, causing him to begin moaning orgasmically.

7. Stacey: "What are you hiding?"

House: "I'm gay... Oh that's not what you meant! But it does explain a lot thought. No girlfriend, always with Wilson..."

8. House watching Wilson sleep on the couch in his apartment, then quietly erasing a voicemail from a real estate agent saying Wilson's apartment application for a new place went through.

9. Wilson, explaining his infidelity during his previous marriage, to Cameron when she's feeling awful because she considered cheating on her husband while he was dying:

"Well my wife wasn't dying, she wasn't even sick. But I met someone who made me feel...funny. Good. And I... didn't wanna let that feeling go."

The lack of pronoun haunts me to this day.

10. Gay male patient harassing House and questioning why he won't treat him:

Patient: "Because you're a closet case?" (Eyeing House and Wilson who have just emerged from House's apartment)

Wilson: "Uh...we're not...together..."

House: "He is so self-loathing."

11. House nearly kills himself to attempt to prove there is no afterlife, Wilson waits over his bedside and then calls him an idiot and orders him extra pain medication. House's response is:

"I love you."

12. House: "Big romantic weekend in the Poconos could change everything."

13. Wilson refusing to participate in a board vote to oust House from the hospital and consequently losing him job for House. Wilson's furious with him over being put in that position but forgives House easily.

14. Wilson (speaking to House about dating a woman eerily similar to House): "Why not? Why not date you? It's perfect! We've known each other for years, we put up with all kinds of crap from each other and we keep coming back. We're a couple!"

House: "Are we still speaking metaphorically?"

15. (Less than a minute later when House keeps trying to convince Wilson he and Amber are a bad idea).

Wilson: "Wait a minute, every time I agree with you, you come up with a new argument. What are you trying to avoid?"

House: *Stares at Wilson with the most meaningful eye contact to ever eye contact*

Wilson: "Oh! Well if you'd looked at me with those flashing eyes before I was involved (clicks tongue)."

16. To Wilson's new girlfriend in a threatening, 'stay away from my man' voice:

House: "Give him back his sweatshirt... Pit stains don't become you."

17. House: "This isn't just about the sex! You like her personality! You like that she's conniving. You like that she can humiliate someone if it serves..."

*tense pause*

House: "Oh my god. You're sleeping with me."

*flees restaurant*

18. House: "I have really gotta get you laid. If I have to plough that furrow myself, so be it."

19. Wilson: "I have a headache."

House: "We don't have to have sex, sometimes it's nice just to cuddle and talk."

20. (To a bellboy at a hotel House is staying at, while gesturing to Wilson)

House: "After he and I have sex, I'm gonna slit his throat and disembowel him in the bathtub."

21. House going to interview all of Wilson's ex wives to figure out how best to break him and Cuddy up when they aren't even dating. The look on his face when Bonnie explains how good at sex Wilson is? Priceless.

22. House: "Probably my deep and very unconscious desire to get Wilson into my bedroom."

22. House: "If you're coming back because you're attracted to the shine of my neediness. I'd be fine with that."

23. House borrowing money off Wilson in increasing amounts to test the limits of their friendship. He later admits to Wilson that: "Maybe I don't want to push this til it breaks".

24. House being convinced the male CIA agent who approaches him in season 4 is a stripper and sitting on a bench saying:

House: "You wanna close that door?"

CIA agent: "Why?"

House: "Well I assume you're gonna drop trou at some point during the dance, I don't see why I should share."

25. Wilson: "I want a threesome"

House: "Shouldn't we try a twosome first?"

26. All of that episode where House is talking to Dr Nolan and says Wilson is not a consolation prize. Legit became convinced halfway through that this was going to be House realising he's in love with Wilson and wants to keep living with him.

27. House hiring a P.I. to stalk Wilson after they've had a falling out to see if he misses him. The P.I. clocks this immediately and treats the case like that of a scorned lover needing to know if the other party is pining and if theres anything that can make him come back.

28. Wilson proposing to House in a restaurant to throw a wrench in his plans to date their neighbour.

29. Wilson got mad that Cuddy hurt House. So he bought her dream apartment out from under her in sheer spite and moved into said apartment with House.

30. Wilson being indecisive and unable to buy furniture for himself because of a flimsy sense of self and an inability to figure out who he is and what he wants. House teases him about this and challenges him to buy one peice of furniture that says something about who Wilson is.

The peice of furniture Wilson buys?

A piano organ for House.

31. House: "You were thinking about Wilson while were were having sex? That's cool so was I."

32. Wilson: "If things go wrong, I just want you to know..."

House: "If you're gonna say that you've always been secretly gay for me? Everyone just kind of assumed it."

33. Cameron: "Where do you put the cane?"

House: (referring to Wilson) "If he buys me dinner he can find out."

34. That gay as fuck ending, fuck I'll never be over it.

#house md #house md spoilers #people are watching it again now i cannot believe i have to tag spoilers in the year of our lord 2024 #house md renaissance #hugh laurie #robert sean leonard #greg house #james wilson #hilson #house/wilson

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notjustjavierpena · 2 months ago

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Hello, i hope this isn’t too much but i really admire your courage to write the hard stuff that goes on between javi and his wife. would you ever write something about the struggles they had about conceiving lucas?

Crazy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hiya, anon! This was such a rollercoaster to write but thanks so much for giving me the needed push. Also tysm for the compliment 🥺

Summary: Thoughts of infertility take a toll on you and Javier's marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Infertility, arguments, apologies, hurt/comfort, angst, emotional sex, lots of kissing, pussy eating, piv sex, mating press, creampie, pillowtalk, aftercare

Word count: 6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64569853

Crazy

You can’t help but count the months. Seven long ones with still no baby growing in your belly. Seven and counting since you went off your birth control, a ridiculous thought that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth since it turned out that you hadn’t needed it anyway in the first place. Okay, maybe you had but it is your exhaustion talking, whispering it in your ear.

You remember the conversation that Javier and you had in the kitchen that one time a while back, where he promised you that if everything else failed, you would let Steve and Connie set an example and find your own Olivia. Yet neither of you has dared go into the discussion of exactly when it’s time to stop trying, or if you’d truly be ready to adopt.

However, now as you anxiously pace around the kitchen, waiting for Javier to come home and cleaning off stains that aren’t actually there from yesterday’s dishes, you wonder if you should call Connie to hear her opinion.

You stop halfway to the landline to stare at the calendar on the door to the refrigerator. The red circle around today’s date mocks you and you lift your hand up to flip it off, giving it a roll of your eyes now that you’re at it. Seven fucking months of anxiously charting your cycles, tracking ovulation windows, and feeling hope slip away with each negative test.

What if it never happens at all? Connie hadn’t seemed to entertain your worry the last time you brought it up, had shaken her head with a smile you wanted to wipe off her face, and pulled out her authority as a nurse to reassure you. There’s still plenty of time before you need to start worrying, she keeps saying, and it feels like it is the only reason you are still taking vitamins, avoiding caffeine, and doing your exercises.

You’ve reached the phone now, your hand hovering over it in midair. It would be so easy to ring Connie right now and tell her every worry that is constantly going around in your head, every frustration of being in a battle with forcibly loving your body when it isn’t working the way it should. But then you think of Javier and decide against it, convinced by the guilt that nags at you. It feels like a betrayal to begin that particular and very tough conversation with anyone else but him.

You stand there for a moment longer, staring at the phone, silently hoping it will ring and Connie will be on the other end of the line. It would make it easier to justify running your mouth to her.

“Don’t look at me, it just happened,” you would say and still know it wasn’t okay.

Keys being inserted into the front door and the handle rattling makes you tense up in nervous anticipation. Javier is home from work. This is the day you’ve been waiting for a whole month, the one you’ve rearranged your entire schedule around and taken off work because if there’s any chance of being a mom, it has to be now.

“Baby?” He calls when he’s inside the house. You can hear the thud of his bag hitting the floor and the sound of his footsteps going towards the living room.

“I’m here,” you answer through the house. You peek into the living room and see him shrug out of his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the couch and letting himself fall into the cushions with a contented sigh. You know you’re supposed to go in there and spoil his relief.

“Come in here,” he says and taps his fingers on his knees, eyes soft from hoping to see you materialize in the doorway. He always tells you he misses you at his job.

Carefully, you enter the room and approach him with urgency in your body. You have a single mission today and it is a delicate matter.

Get pregnant.

Getpregnantgetpregnantgetpregnant.

Get fucking pregnant.

“Hey,” he says with a tired smile when you stand right in front of him, glad to see you. He holds out his hand for you to take. You don’t reach for it and his smile fades.

“We should have sex,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, staring down at him as he reaches for his tie instead.

“Baby, I just walked in. I just sat down,” he says softly and tugs at the knot on his tie, pulling it loose with a small noise. There’s an underlying emotion to his voice, a hint of frustration to his tone even if he doesn’t want to upset you.

Your focus, your tunnel vision, makes you ignore his complaint as if it isn’t a ticking bomb right between your hands, “If I’ve calculated right, it’s been twelve hours since we last had sex, Javi. I’ve read that it’s a good idea to—“

“We have sex all the time, baby. Three times yesterday. Once at night. We fuck a lot,” he reaches up to run both hands over his face, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands afterward. He does a quick inhale and then sighs.

“Yes, but we have to do it today too to be sure. Connie said that—“ you quickly argue but his jaw muscles flex as you talk. Javier pushes himself to stand with exasperation in his next breath.

He pushes past you as if he cannot take being in your presence for a second longer despite just having arrived home, doesn’t even look at you as he throws back a sarcastic comment, “Oh, Connie said? Really? Wow, you really know how to turn me on.”

“That’s not funny. Hey, come back here,” you say as he starts walking towards the kitchen instead, leaving you with your mouth a thin line. You follow him but don’t go any further than standing in the door, “I’m the only one who initiates sex lately. What if my ovulation is peaking right now? The day is over soon.”

He leans against the kitchen counter, reaching back to grip the edge of the table, “The day isn’t over yet. It’s five in the afternoon. I just got home. We can have sex tonight.”

You finally step fully into the kitchen now and it feels almost like you have crossed enemy lines. You can feel your tears build inside of your chest, crawling steadily up into your throat till they burn but you don’t allow yourself to cry. Why doesn’t he understand the pain of losing another month to grief? Why is it not as important to him? You look desperate, “Connie said it’s best during the day.”

“Stop,” he suddenly commands, causing you to flinch. He looks angry at you, unable to register the impact of the tone of his voice because of his own state of mind but it makes you tremble. He is never this way, “I can’t fucking take another fucking word about eggs and sperm and fertile windows. It’s too much now. You’re being crazy.”

Something breaks inside of you at those words, a beast that’s been hidden inside a cage in your chest threatening to escape and go for the kill. You watch him carelessly turn away to open the fridge, detachment on his face as if he has just argued with you about what you’re having for dinner. He leaves you feeling in complete disbelief and disarray, your heart ticking like a bomb. You need out right now or you might suffocate in the large, childless space that you moved into with the idea that you would be a family of three soon.

You leave the room with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The walls feel like they are closing in on you, close to trapping you here in this feeling forever if you don’t hurry up and reach the front door quickly.

You slam the door behind you, no shoes on your feet, and then suddenly you are close to running down the street, breathing harder and harder while your arms swing along your sides in your haste.

He has never called you crazy before. The word feels like he has just spat in your face, wrapped you in barbed wire, as if he sees you as just one more woman suffering from hysteria. Dismissible and unserious. Crazy. You swear you can feel all of the women before you right behind you, giving you the wind in your back to run faster than ever even with no destination. You don’t even feel your feet hurt from being bare against the harsh ground.

However, you are barely a few blocks away from your home when you hear Javier’s voice calling out your name with the same desperation that you have felt since the first negative pregnancy test.

The second you hear him, you automatically start running faster, determined to escape something you can’t quite pinpoint what is, but it only lasts a few seconds. Eventually, you finally slow down. Not because you want him to catch you but because your chest is heaving and your eyes are burning with tears, blurring your vision and disorienting you.

He grabs your arm firmly when he reaches you and tries to pull you into an embrace. You resist at first, stiffening against him as he wraps you in his arms.

“Stop!” You sob violently but he doesn’t let go even when you start crying loud enough to attract attention. Instead, he tightens his grip around you to calm your nervous system. How odd it is to want comfort from the man who also made you cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he says repeatedly, his cheek against yours while you try to hit his chest. You can hear the regret in his voice but your pride makes you unwilling to soften.

You struggle further, almost like a panicked animal, wanting to kick and scream to escape a trap, but the fight is going out of your body quickly, gripped by exhaustion and making you sag. Another sob rips itself from your throat, “If I’m so crazy then there’s no reason we should be together let alone have a baby.”

When you’re less resistant, he cradles your head in his hand to make you look at him, “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not crazy. Dios, soy un pendejo (God, I’m an idiot). I’m so sorry, mi amor (my love).”

You sink to your knees but he catches you before they hit the sidewalk.

“I’m not crazy,” you insist weakly as you slump into his embrace.

“You’re not crazy,” he confirms quietly, “I’d take that back if I could.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too… You were frustrated and tired,” you sniffle and your bottom lip trembles, “I shouldn’t have pushed you the second you walked through the door. I’m just worried that we have to wait a whole month before we can try again because we’re too lazy to have sex. And I hate that it is ruining our sex life because I love having sex with you.”

Javier says your name but it’s clear that it has caught him off guard.

You pull back to look up at his face. His brown eyes are soft and full of apologies, like the impact of his words only hits him now, “Now I’m scared that this is all responsible for you not finding me sexy anymore. I know it’s stupid but what if I’m the reason why we never get there? What if all this pressure makes you stop wanting me? What if I–”

“Now that’s crazy,” he says in an attempt to smooth things over with a joke but that one crease in his forehead, the one that he gets when frustration hits, is back because it doesn’t work.

You compose yourself enough to step back and give him a warning look, a look that says don’t you dare say that word again. He holds his hands up in surrender and then just reaches for your wrist, tugs it until he can entwine your fingers.

“What?” You’re the one to bite now, "I'm serious. I don’t want to lose you in this."

"You're not going to lose me,” he groans in exasperation. A few heads have popped up in the windows of the houses surrounding you.

“Then why aren’t you upset like I am?” You ask harshly and pull your hand away to hug yourself. You avoid his gaze.

Javier looks at you as if you’ve cracked him wide open right there on the sidewalk. He furrows his brows, opening his mouth without any words coming out. He turns away then, needs to gather himself without staring at your face.

You know immediately that you have crossed a line, that you have hit a nerve that wasn’t supposed to be as exposed as it suddenly is.

“Javi,” you murmur shamefully.

“Is that what you think?” He turns back to you, the look in his eyes frantic and desperate. He also looks furious but for some reason, you can tell it isn’t directed at you, “That— That I’m not scared or upset enough? I’m terrified all the fucking time but if I let myself be as scared as you are, I’d be fucking useless to you.”

The realization hits you like an oncoming train, making tears start falling from your eyes again. You don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you. Javier feels the exact same way as you but he simply hides it better.

You want to say something but he beats you to it, pointing at you to stress his point, his chest heaving, “And for the record. There’s no fucking universe where I stop wanting you.”

You don’t know what to say, so you do the next best thing and show him. You reach to cup his face, your thumbs stroking along his cheekbones, and then you kiss his lips.

He sighs against your mouth, his broad palms finding your waist and tugging you as close as possible until he can wrap you in the harbor of his arms. Then he kisses you deeper, several times too, each brush of his lips releasing more of the tension between you.

You’re here. In the same boat. And you love each other so much. That should be enough, even when it doesn’t feel like it is.

When the kiss is over, you don’t draw away from each other. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you protectively close to his chest and stroking the back of your head. You link your arms around him, clinging tightly to him with a few tears staining his shirt because you have hurt each other so much.

“I want to go home,” you murmur softly into his shoulder while he strokes your hair, “Por favor (please).”

“Okay,” he answers just as gently, placing a kiss on your forehead before drawing back, “We’ll go home.”

You walk home side by side, no words spoken between you. The tension is still there, sizzling in the air but it is charged with something else too. You almost feel like a teenager again, back when you were too scared to speak to the person you’ve decided late at night that you’d go through fire for.

The first block is spent with your hands brushing as they hang by your sides and the both of you holding your breath when it happens but then Javier laces your fingers together and a quiet understanding settles over you.

When you enter the front door together, none of you even glance in the direction of the kitchen or the living room. There's no hurry to move on from the storm of intense emotions that you have just been through, no hurry to busy yourself with anything that’ll simply push it down or bottle it up.

The only urgency now is that storm, your hearts tense but only with the need to reassure each other. His mouth finds yours again, his body pushes you against the wall and the intensity behind his kiss grows from how he had kissed you in the street. Your lips meet in a kiss so deep that Javier coaxes a moan from your mouth.

For once in all of this, you’re not scared of the outcome of being together, entwined. The need to conceive a child with your husband is still very much there but right now, it is overshadowed by a need to connect fully, to lick each other’s wounds even if you caused them.

You reach to untie the knot on his tie completely. He hesitates for just a breath, a hand on your wrist to gain your attention.

“Are you sure?” He asks despite how you still pull the tie out from underneath his collar.

“Yes,” you don’t hesitate a second and drop the tie on the floor, desire ignited in your belly, “I’m so sure. I want you.”

He lets out a shaky breath with a smile, nodding his head while you move in to kiss his throat where his pulse thrums. His eyes close at the contact, his head tilting back just a little until a soft moan escapes his mouth. Your body grows warm from hearing it and you take it as a cue to move in silence, sharing searing kisses all the way to the bedroom.

When you get there, Javier closes the door behind you and turns the lock, not because there’s any chance that you will be disturbed but just to keep the outside world at bay for a little while. It feels more intimate like that, like you are the only two people in the world.

You stand by the end of the bed, watching him do it and feeling your heart pounding in your chest from anticipation. You smile softly when he approaches you, too afraid that words might mess up the way that air crackles with intimacy and tenderness.

He reaches out first as if promising to take the lead of you, curling his fingers around the edge of your top to lift it up. You raise your arms in the air to let him peel it over your head, goosebumps erupting on your skin where his knuckles brush you. He drops your top on the floor.

You finally reciprocate by moving to undo the buttons of his white shirt. Your hands tremble slightly as you do it but Javier is patient, just reaches to gently steady your wrist by holding it.

When you have reached the last one, he takes over and shrugs the fabric off his shoulders to reveal his warm and safe chest. You step closer, hands finding his shoulders as you lean in to kiss along his collarbone. He takes the opportunity to unclasp your bra while you’re at it, a palm skimming up your back while the other rests at your waist.

When your breasts are bare, your nipples have hardened at the sudden exposure to the colder temperature. He undoes his belt and jeans, and when he bends slightly to take them off along with his boxers, he presses a tender kiss right over a nipple and skims his nose and lips across your chest to do the same thing with the other.

You moan softly. He grabs around your waist and helps lowering you down onto the bed. You sit on the edge but not for long, moving back until you can lay down spread out. He follows you like a magnet, ends up kneeling between your legs so he can undo and yank down your pants.

You help kick them off and then bend your knees briefly to let him drag your underwear down too. His mouth is everywhere he can reach; your ankles, your calves, knees, and thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs softly on his way down your inner thigh, breaking the silence, and while he says those words a lot, there’s something different behind them today. It is almost like he is telling you something else; you’re not broken, not defined in your femininity by your body’s ability to carry his child.

You hold tears at bay and run your hand over his hair, looking down at the top of his head as his face disappears down between your thighs. Your mouth falls open in a soft gasp when he first mouths along your cunt.

“Javi,” you sigh a moment later, your head knocking back into the bed so you can look up at the ceiling while focusing on the velvety feeling of his mouth.

He eats you slowly, the flat of his tongue gently moving over your clit until you can’t help each sigh and moan that falls from your lips. His fingers spread your cunt open, his other hand squeezing your thigh as he pulls your legs further apart to dive in.

“Please,” you hear yourself say. It’s the moment you realize how long it has been since you last were together like this; he hasn’t gone down on you for months because it doesn’t make a baby. The room is quiet except for your labored breaths and the filthy wet sounds of his mouth teasing you towards the edge. It feels so good to be wanted like this, reassured of how sexy you are without all the pressure to procreate.

Hearing that soft plea makes Javier wrap his lips around your clit to kiss it repeatedly. He moans into you when your legs start to tremble in his peripheral vision. He switches it up and sucks. It makes you whimper, your back arching off the bed as he worships you between your thighs.

You are sure that he’ll pull away when you lift your pelvis up to meet his mouth further, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he just slides the hand on your thigh down under the small of your back to hold you there, then breathes heavily through his nose and hungrily continues to make you inch closer to the edge.

Like always, he can hear your orgasm knocking by the way you begin to hold your breath between small gasps of pleasure. He intensifies the pressure and the precision just so, and you slide both hands through his hair - something he has clearly been waiting for with the way he groans - while your toes start to curl.

When you actually come, it drags a sinful groan out of the both of you. Your thighs lock around his head and you pull at his hair. It’s not pretty and polite. It’s pure release, and it is ripped out of you like it has been buried under your prickly skin, underneath heartbreak, forever.

You say his name until it makes no sense anymore, swallowing down desperate gulps of air. He lets you ride it out on his tongue, making sure to tease out every little aftershock before releasing you from his grasp. Yes, you needed this but it is almost like he needed it more.

“You don’t know what it does to me,” he breathes heavily while you come down. He trails off and rests his forehead against your thigh, “You don’t fucking know what it does to me… when you look at me like you did earlier… Like you’re done.”

“I’m not,” you whisper in reply, voice shaky with tears that have finally found release. You cry softly, “I’m not done. Never done.”

“Don’t cry, baby,” he looks up at you with those brown eyes that are so hard to resist because of the silent plead within them. It hurts your chest to watch him so full of remorse, hurts to be loved this much.

“Come here,” you whisper softly and hold your arms open for him but he wants to take it slow.

He kisses his way up your body instead - a kiss to your hip, your belly, one right beneath your ribs - and you use the opportunity to slide your fingers through his hair. His mustache is slick with you, scratching just slightly as he treats you like you might not be in his bed tomorrow.

But while he wants to savor you, you feel the growing impatience within your chest. You need him closer, your hands going repeatedly from his hair to his shoulders and then to his back because you are unsure of where to touch him when you want all of him.

When he has his knees between your thighs again, he doesn’t crush you with his weight. Instead, he hovers above, eyes roaming over your face to check if you’re still letting him have you. In response, you settle on cupping his face. He automatically turns his face to press a longing kiss into the palm of your hand.

You pull him to your mouth in a kiss that steals his breath away, his hand cupping the side of your neck. You kiss him like you should have done the moment he came in through the door and he meets your mouth like he needs to feel forgiveness in his very bones. Maybe a kiss like this would have avoided the pain that you inflicted upon each other. You cry in his arms. He wipes tears away with his thumbs and doesn’t rush you.

Eventually, you are panting from the intensity of what feels like one of the deepest kisses of your life. Your lips are swollen and sensitive, and his cock is hard against your thigh to the point where you think he must be aching. The occasional kiss to your throat makes your whole body tingle with want, your cunt fluttering in interest. The pressing issue, however, is that you need to put all of these feelings somewhere.

“Fuck me,” you whisper with your fingers in his hair, breathing hard against his mouth, “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

Javier swears quietly under his breath as if he has been waiting for those words, nodding repeatedly with his stare fixed on your lips before giving you another desperate kiss.

He reluctantly pulls away, your hands slipping out of his dark locks, to sit back on his knees. You let your palms lay flat on the sheets and stare up at him, his face full of determination while he slides his hands around the back of your knees.

At first, you think he wants to drag you down on the bed and closer to himself but then he lifts your legs and you gasp because you immediately know what he is doing with you. He pushes until your thighs are pressed against your chest, your cunt on full display and at his mercy.

He doesn’t speak as he moves over you again, not stopping until his chest brushes the back of your thighs and your ankles are resting on his broad shoulders. He folds you even further in when he leans down to kiss your throat, the soft sound that escapes you vibrating underneath his lips.

You grip the sheets and hold on for dear life as he enters you slowly, giving you the full length of his cock inch by inch. He holds your gaze as he bottoms out and it makes you so aware of everything he does to you. There's no space between you now. Not physically. Not emotionally. He looks at you as if telling you that you and he belong together, like he is ready to rewrite the last seven months of your sex life.

You can’t speak, can’t even think because you’re still trembling and sensitive. The stretch of his cock is almost too much inside of you but he is gentle with you, letting you adjust while kissing his way to your mouth again.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod as if to reciprocate and then whimper as another tear escapes, “I love you. I missed you.”

“I know, I missed you too,” he whispers and gently kisses away the salty tear.

The ache of need catches up to you as you get used to feeling him inside of your cunt so fully, the thick head of his cock resting against the spot where you need him the most. An impatient flutter of your walls makes him give in and move inside of you.

You moan feebly while he takes you slowly and full of precision. The angle of this position has you breathless in seconds, your back arching with each stroke against your g-spot. Your moans mix together with the sound of skin slapping against skin in the otherwise quiet room. You hold onto his biceps, feeling the muscles of his arms flex beneath your touch as he strains his body to give you everything he has.

“I’ve got it now, mi amor (my love)” he lets you know through ragged breaths, resting his forehead against yours, “You don’t have to start it anymore. No need to ask.”

“Don’t stop. Javi— oh, don’t stop,” you plead him with a steady stream of teardrops falling from your eyes. They roll down into your hair faster than he can kiss them away but it doesn’t matter, you think to yourself, because you want him to see what he does to you; that his words move you, that you needed to hear them because you’re exhausted and fuck, he loves you so much.

“Shh, don’t cry, baby, you’re okay,” he coos with another soft kiss to follow. You turn your head afterward to press your face into the side of his head, brows furrowing as the first hints of your climax being within reach show.

He barely pulls out anymore, just grinds down into your cunt and hits the right spot repeatedly. There’s no talking either. Instead, just the sound of your sweat-slicked bodies moving together, your breath hitching in your throat as your belly tightens even more, and his growls every time your cunt squeezes around him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby. You’re making me come,” he grits out, sweat gathering on his brow and concentration all over his face.

“I’m close,” you gasp with your thighs starting to tremble from how intense it is going to be. You let your head bump into the mattress, your spine arching in a bow as it creeps up on you and your breathing begins to stutter.

You come with a silent cry towards the ceiling because all air is knocked out of you. It takes a few moments before noise catches up to you but when it does, you absolutely sob underneath the weight of his body. The intensity makes you clamp down on his cock, your walls going into rhythmic squeezes that make Javier hiss and his pace falter from how you milk him.

“I’m coming,” he near-whimpers before going off into a satisfied groan while his hips stutter, “Fuck, baby. You’re— I’m coming.”

He buries himself to the hilt before spilling inside of your wet, oversensitive heat. You gasp at the feeling of it, the weight of it settling inside of you. He trembles above you, enough for you to slide your hands up to his shoulders and cup his face.

He holds himself up with one hand and holds one of yours with the other, breathing rapidly. His chest is broad and glistening with sweat, warm and nearly suffocating but he is yours. You want it like that, want to drown in the intimacy that you feel.

Without a word, he straightens and pulls out his softening cock. It makes you tense up, looking down where you have been connected with worry on your face. You don’t want it to slip, to not work this time either, but he guides your legs together and then shifts slightly on the mattress. He lays them gently on one shoulder, making sure that no drop spills from you.

“I’ve got you,” he coos, almost shushing you like a child. His arms cradle your legs, “Don’t worry.”

You can do nothing but whimper. He rubs your belly with his free hand and you place your palm on top of it, an unconscious gesture of hope between you.

“This is the most important thing,” he says after weighing his words for a moment, “You and I.”

“Javi,” you protest but there’s no exasperation building up beneath the surface this time. He shakes his head to stop any words at the tip of your tongue.

“I will give you anything you want. A house, a baby, anything you want,” he tells you, whispering it as if there are other people in the room besides the two of you and he wants privacy. It feels safer to hear him lower his voice, “But not if it costs me you. We are not meant to fight like that.”

Your bottom lip trembles because he is right. You’re not meant to fight like that at all, chests heaving with adrenaline and bloodlust from grief over the fact that something is getting the better of you. It feels as unnatural as snow in August and rivers running dry.

“I want to give you a baby,” you say quietly and feel a tear slide down your cheek. Javier reaches to brush it away with his index finger, shushing you once more with the gentleness in him only reserved for you.

“And you will,” he promises and cups your cheek afterward, his thumb stroking your face where another tear has fallen, “It’ll happen. This way or another.”

Your eyes flutter closed. You nod.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asks and lets his mouth graze the side of your ankle.

“I love you too,” you say back without much thought that he is actually asking a question.

“Yes, but do you know how much? Look at me,” he waits for a moment.

Your gaze locks onto him, your eyes big and teary.

“I don’t think you know how lucky I am to have you in my life after all the stupid shit I’ve done back in Colombia. I hurt people. I watched people die. No wonder I wasn’t all here when I came back. I thought I was just gonna float through the rest of my life being angry or drifting in some bar like a ghost. You were the first thing that felt like… like the world could be soft again. And now you think I could ever stop wanting you?” He shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re the only place I’ve ever felt like I could put my feet down and not run. When everything starts to weigh down on me, you breathe life back into me. Whatever happens next, I want it with you, okay?”

You cry with your heart feeling too big for your chest, words lost on you because how can he still love you when this takes such a toll on you that it brings out the worst in you? Probably just how you can love him just the same too.

You sniffle, “Yes, me too.”

He looks serious and soft, “Even if it’s not how we imagined. Even if we gotta go knock on Connie’s door and ask for the number of that adoption agency… or do IVF… or whatever the hell else it takes.”

You nod. When you speak, it is nothing but a squeak, “Yes.”

“But right now,” he caresses the skin of your calf and murmurs into another kiss to your ankle, “I just wanna stay here. In this bed. With my wife… and let the world wait a little while longer. Can we do that?”

“Can I get my legs down, so we can cuddle?” You shift a little, still slick between your thighs and sore in the best way, but there’s no rush to clean up or face anything other than the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

He smiles, “Of course. Lift your legs, I’ve got you.”

He does. He always does.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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mandoalorian · 3 months ago

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dangerous liaisons [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: After a heated argument at dinner, the dynamic shifts between you and Bucky. Bucky swears that from this moment onwards, he will respect your decision to maintain a strictly professional relationship, but is that really what your heart desires?

Word Count: 3000

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, m masturbation, making out, very brief description of an assault, bucky gets violent, politics, jealousy, high stakes

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless, the Tokyo moonlight glowing behind him through the hotel window. His jaw was clenched, his fists pressing into his thighs as he tried to shake the sound of your voice from his head.

But it was impossible.

You had been moaning his name.

Before you, Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had actually fallen for someone, or if he had ever. Sure, he’d been with women before, but it was never anything serious. Back in the day, he dated to marry, and now, for the longest time, he’d never even considered marriage to be an aspect of his life. He didn’t have time for it; from being a soldier to a weapon to an Avenger to a politician, but then again, there had never been someone quite like you.

He tried to shake the feelings, he really did. Bucky had no idea how to navigate something of this magnitude.

What really got to Bucky was the way you were so angry about the whole thing. He was trying, really. He’d already told you just about how he was feeling, how special you were to him. He’d be lying to himself if he thought you weren’t interested — he would’ve given it up by now. But he saw that glint in your eye and the way your lips would turn into a smile under his gaze and he noticed things. Bucky was perceptive.

He had gone after you last night. Ignoring your words, ignoring the way you told him not to follow. But when he reached the door to your hotel room, hand raised to knock, he heard it—your breathless, desperate whimpers. His name, spilling from your lips.

He had never felt anything like it.

It had sent a raw, primal heat flooding through him, straight to his cock. He had backed away, gone to his own room, but the damage was done.

Now, he sat in the dark, his cock throbbing in his hand as he fisted himself to the memory of you. His jaw tightened, head tilting back as he stroked himself, trying to chase relief—but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

All he wanted was you — not Tara, not anyone else, just you. But he had already pushed you away and he knew you wouldn’t entertain a conversation. Bucky had tried. There wasn’t much more that could be done. You wanted things to remain professional, and so for you, Bucky would accept that.

Bucky gritted his teeth as his release hit him, his body tensing, his breath ragged as he spilled over his stomach. His muscles twitched with frustration, the pleasure barely scratching the itch that had burrowed into his skin.

He needed you.

But the next day, when you walked into breakfast, you wouldn’t even look at him.

The morning was heavy with unspoken words. You sat at the long hotel breakfast table, staring at the untouched coffee in front of you, stirring it absentmindedly while avoiding the one person you could feel watching you.

Bucky sat across from you, his own plate barely touched. He wasn’t talking much—just quietly sipping his coffee, the muscles in his jaw tight. The rest of the team carried on like normal, chatting about the last press conference, the success of the trip, and the flight home later that afternoon. But you? You felt suffocated by the silence stretching between you and Bucky.

“Late night?” Tara’s voice was playful as she slid into the chair beside Bucky, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She gave him a smirk before tossing you a glance, like she knew something. “You disappeared pretty quickly after dinner.”

You tensed, gripping the spoon in your coffee just a little harder.

Bucky, to his credit, didn’t look at her. Instead, he took another slow sip, then set the mug down with a quiet clink.“Didn’t feel like sticking around,” he muttered, voice flat.

Tara raised a brow. “Shame. We could’ve had a drink, unwound a little. The trip’s been exhausting.”

Your stomach twisted. You weren’t sure why—you had no right to feel possessive over him, not after everything—but something about the way she spoke to him, the way she looked at him, made your skin crawl.

Bucky exhaled through his nose and finally looked up—not at Tara, but at you. His eyes searched yours, but you gave him nothing. Instead, you picked up your coffee and took a slow sip, pretending not to care, pretending you weren’t still reeling from everything that had happened last night.

“I’ll be outside,” you said abruptly, pushing back your chair. The sound scraped against the floor, drawing a few glances, but you didn’t care.

Bucky didn’t stop you. But when you turned to leave, you could feel his eyes trailing after you, burning a hole in your back.

And the worst part?

You wanted to turn around. It took all the strength you could muster to just keep on walking.

This was hurting you so much and the pain was unprecedented. You should have never crossed the line between professional and personal. And now you were facing the repercussions. You decided to travel to the Embassy in preparation for the press conference later today. You figured if you got there early, you could distract yourself with some work. It just sucked that your work was Bucky — being his assistant and figuring out his life for him, organising meetings and campaigns and press releases.

Slipping into the back of a cab, you pulled out your tablet and opened up your emails only to see an invite to the Late Late Show with Jimmy Coors. You knew, deep down, that having a moment on cable television would work wonders for Bucky’s campaign, but it’s not something you could exactly agree to without having a conversation with him first. Fuck, a conversation. You were going to have to speak to him at some point. Otherwise, you could be out of a job. After stewing on it for a mere few seconds, you replied to the email.

Congressman Barnes will honourably accept the invitation to be on the Late Late Show, with the sole intention of promoting his campaign. Please direct all relevant documents to this email address.

You managed to cram a good amount of work in at the Embassy offices before you noticed the commotion outside, as Bucky’s Mercedes pulled up along with his security and campaign advisory team. Time to face the music.

The conference room was packed. Cameras flashed, journalists murmured, and every seat was filled with eager reporters ready to pick apart every word Bucky said. You felt nervous for him, you always did. You knew that if you were in his position, you’d crumble under the pressure. But he’d been through worse.

You stood off to the side, hands clasped in front of you, eyes trained on him. He looked good—too good, dressed in a dark navy suit that fit him like sin, his tie loosened just enough to make him look effortlessly in control.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Bucky Barnes was always in control. Always composed, always measured. Even after last night. Even after the things he knew you had done alone in your hotel room.

“Congressman Barnes,” a journalist called out, and you straightened. “Considering the recent diplomatic talks, do you believe this summit has strengthened U.S. relations with Japan?”

Bucky leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth, authoritative. “I do. We’ve had productive discussions about trade regulations and infrastructure, and I think we’re walking away with a stronger foundation for future collaboration. Open dialogue is key to international relationships.”

Another journalist spoke up. “There’s been some criticism about your approach to negotiations—some say you’re too aggressive, too direct. How do you respond to that?”

Bucky gave a knowing smirk. “I don’t believe in wasting time. I say what needs to be said, and I stand by my convictions. If that’s aggressive, then so be it.”

There were quiet chuckles from the audience, but you could tell the reporters weren’t done yet.

Then came the question you hadn’t expected.

“What do you think of the rumours about the government reinventing the Super Soldier Serum to enhance the US military?” One lady asked, prompting commotion amongst the other journalists in the audience.

Bucky’s jaw ticked, and he shot you a confused look. This was the first you had heard of such a rumour, and also the first time Congressman had acknowledged you all day. When Bucky didn’t reply, the journalist spoke up again.

“How do you respond to the allegations that you killed President JFK?”

Jesus Christ, they were hounding him. You wanted to storm onto the stage and put an end to this madness. How could they ask such invasive questions? Bucky swallowed before speaking up.

“For seventy years I was trained to infiltrate, assassinate and destabilise. If I wanted to, I could have taken a whole country down in one night. I will not run away from my past. Not anymore. I am proud to be your Congressman and do everything I can to make the world a better, safer place. That means no more war and, for as long as I am alive, no more Super Soldiers.”

In a daze, the journalist scrambled down to her notebook and scribbled his response. You breathed an air of relief but your heart still sank in your chest. Bucky never liked talking about his past, not even to you, and you could understand why. So for him to speak up in a room full of needy, clingy, journalists, in a conference that was being globally televised… that couldn’t have been easy.

“Congressman Barnes, you’ve been in the public eye for years now, but you’ve kept your personal life relatively private. Is there anyone special in your life right now?”

There it was. The question that had seemed to dominate every single press conference since landing in Japan. Your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky didn’t even blink. He leaned back in his chair, running his tongue along his bottom lip in thought before answering, “I’m focused on my work right now. Love isn’t a priority for me.”

The words felt like a slap, business as usual.

You stared at him, your heart thudding against your ribs.

Bucky didn’t look at you. Didn’t hesitate, didn’t stumble. Just a clean, simple answer, like it was nothing.

Tara, standing beside you, leaned in and whispered, “Yikes. Guess that means you’re out of the running.” Her voice was quiet, teasing, but there was an edge to it.

Your jaw tightened. “Maybe I’m not interested in running at all.”

She hummed, unconvinced, her gaze flicking toward Bucky. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You turned to her then, sharp and pointed. “Shouldn’t you be doing your job instead of making catty comments?”

Tara only smirked, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Just an observation, sweetheart. No need to get defensive.”

You clenched your teeth, but you didn’t rise to it. Instead, you turned your attention back to Bucky, who was wrapping up the conference.

Your pulse was still racing.

You weren’t sure if it was from anger, embarrassment, or something far worse.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It was late afternoon now, and you were standing at the curb back outside the hotel, waiting for the driver to pick you and Bucky up for the airport. You tried distracting yourself with your PDA, but neither you nor Bucky had spoken a word to each other since last night. You wondered if the silence and tension were hurting him, as much as it was hurting you.

Today had been hard.

You noticed the press on the other side of the road, and paparazzi too, waving around cameras and making discussion amongst themselves.

Bucky stood rigid, about three or four meters away from you. You tried to find the right words, to say something to him. Anything. You felt as though you owed him an apology. You were so embarrassed after the previous night and the scene you caused at dinner. You acted in total jealousy. But how could you even say that to him? Thoughts raced in your mind a million miles an hour and suddenly, you felt the blood drain out of your skin. You felt your soul leave your body before it even registered: hand skimming your lower back, resting just above the curve of your ass.

You jumped slightly in shock, looking to your left to find a man. He was tall, well-dressed, and persistent. And his hand was still on you.

"You alone, sweetheart?" he asked, stepping into your space.

You forced a polite smile, stepping back. “I-I’m waiting for someone."

"Shame," he smirked, his eyes dragging over you. "A girl like you shouldn’t be left waiting."

You stiffened as he reached out, brushing his fingers along your arm.

Before you could react, before you could even breathe, Bucky moved.

It happened in a blur.

Bucky’s fist slammed into the guy’s face. A sickening crack echoed through the air as the man dropped to the pavement, unconscious.

Gasps erupted around you. Paparazzi cameras flashed wildly. People shouted.

"Bucky—!" you gasped, grabbing his arm and noticing the purple bruises already beginning to dash over his knuckles.

But his chest was heaving, eyes dark with pure, unfiltered rage.

"Did he touch you?" Bucky’s voice was low, dangerous. Bucky knew the answer, he saw it with his own eyes.

"I—he—Bucky, let’s go." You pulled him toward the car, shoving him inside before the chaos exploded further.

The second the doors closed behind you, the air between you crackled with tension.

"You didn’t have to do that," you muttered, staring out the window. “You could have killed him.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. "He put his hands on you,” he replied simply like his violent response was unapologetically warranted. Honestly, the guy got what he deserved but people saw. Paparazzi saw. What were people going to say when Bucky returned to the US? You dreaded to even think. “He’s lucky I didn’t use my other hand.”

You frowned, looking at the Congressman with concern in your eyes. “Bucky…” you whispered. “Are you okay?”

Stupid question.

When he didn’t reply, you sighed. "You can’t just punch everyone who looks at me the wrong way."

He turned to you then, something fierce and unguarded in his eyes.

"You think this is about anyone else?" he said quietly. "You really don’t get it, do you?"

Your breath caught.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice so small you were unsure if Bucky could even hear. “I do get it.”

“Did you hear what they said at the conference?” Bucky asked, his voice low. “They’re reinventing the Super Soldier Serum.”

You knew this was plaguing him, you were just surprised he was bringing it up with you.

“It’s just a rumour…” you said softly, placing your hand over Bucky’s hoping to ease him just a little bit.

“They can’t do that, if they do that, it will be like history repeating itself. I can’t let that happen.”

You could sense the fear in Bucky’s voice. The vulnerability.

But there was only so much Bucky could do, after all, he wasn't President. “We can investigate it when we get back home. But for now, let’s just be together, please.” Bucky didn’t move and you felt your eyes prick with hot tears.

You’d really fucked it up now. Everything. Trying to comfort him felt foreign, and you wished it didn't. It was like he didn't trust you anymore, and could you blame him? For the past few days you had been essentially stringing him along, reluctant to have a serious conversation or address your feelings.

Because you were too damn scared.

And now he was burdened with his workload and politics and the fact he'd just knocked a man unconscious on the street; not to mention this thing that was going on between you two.

“Please, Bucky… say something.” You begged, holding back a sob. You were losing him. All you wanted was him, this whole time, and you just kept pushing him away.

Bucky shifted in his seat and pulled his hand from underneath yours. He looked you in the eye.

“You want me to say something?” He asked rhetorically, all hardness in his face softening. His expression was still unreadable. You nodded and sniffed as he searched your eyes for answers. “Okay. Fine. You confuse me.”

You scoffed but smiled, relieved he was finally opening up. “That’s fair,” you replied. “I confuse me too.”

Bucky hummed, waiting for you to say more. You owed it to him.

“I got so jealous of Tara the other night,” you admitted sheepishly with an anxious exhale, a sharp pain in your chest making you flinch as you spoke the words out loud. You were in the car, and there was nowhere to run. You knew you had to have this conversation sooner rather than later. It had to be done. “I— I didn’t know why but I know why now. I um— I couldn’t stand the way she was all over you, and the way you entertained it. I wanted that to be me.”

Bucky blinked hard, but again, he didn't speak.

“And when you touched me under the table… I felt hot with rage. I couldn’t understand. Did you want me or her?”

Bucky pressed his lips against yours in a sudden, passion-filled movement. In shock, you parted your lips, and Bucky took no time to slip his tongue in, intoxicated with the urge to taste every part of you. You moaned your thoughts and feelings from last night resurfacing. Fuck, you’d missed this. You missed him.

You pulled on his dark brown hair and ran your fingers through the length of it before clicking open your seatbelt and sliding onto his lap, straddling him, without breaking the kiss. Bucky’s hands roamed your body, his erection growing and pressing between his briefs and dresspants, begging to be released.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, Bucky held your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“You, it’s you. I always want you.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Taglist: @imaginecrushes @maplepepperoni @sleepysongbirdsings @sunday-bug @bunnyfella @lktunes12-blog @bellamoret @mrsnikstan @greatenthusiasttidalwave @pancake-05 @theylovethesky @avengersfan25 @nydubs

[if you want to be added or removed from taglist, lmk<3]

#bucky barnes #marvel #smut #mcu #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #angst #congressman bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #thunderbolts #avengers #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier

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thatdesigirl17 · 5 months ago

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tolerate it

theodore x fem!reader

based on the song tolerate it by taylor swift

warnings: arranged marriage, reader being really in love with theo, language, implied cheating, angst, theo having daddy issues

part 2

Theodore’s father had arranged Theo’s marriage with Y/N Y/L/N as soon as Theo had reached his last year at Hogwarts. In his eyes, she was perfect for him, a pureblood Slytherin with an influential family background. Y/N was happy, she had always been attracted to Theo but she wished it was them that had made this decision and not their parents. In a few weeks, Y/N had already fallen for Theo who, on the other hand still seemed cold and distant. Yet, she was determined to make him let down his guard and see how perfect they were together. She had been successful in her endeavours to an extent. Whenever she got the chance, she would sit with her head low and watch him intently, reading for school, observing his face or when they would spend the night together, she would watch him breathe with his eyes closed, his face peaceful and serene. The mere sight of him was a source of comfort for her. Whenever he would be upset, frustrated or even excited, she was glad to be there for him and listen to him vent. Theo had gained a soft spot for her, thinking that he could love her. Even when he didn’t wish to accept that his father was right, he couldn’t deny that Y/N was as close to a perfect fit as he had ever gotten, but the thought of giving in to his father was eating him alive.

Y/N was completely oblivious to these thoughts of Theo. She was elated that Theo had been reciprocating some of her love. Until they had started fighting, Theo had started calling her a bit too clingy and stating that she always took up too much space and time. That hurt her like a dagger to the heart, she had always been trying to be perfect for him, but she tolerated it. She took all his indiscretions in good fun, she tried to be better and give him space. All of that still didn’t seem to satisfy Theo, if only, it made him take her for granted, it made him assume that he always had her to fall back on. Soon, their arguments became more frequent and Theo returned to his cold and distant self. She started noticing the little things that he had started doing to avoid her and the things he didn’t do, the little things that he used to do earlier that made her feel like he could love her back. Y/N thought it’d be best to go home for the weekend, giving Theo some space and then she would surprise him hoping that it’ll make him a bit happier.

Theo had accompanied her to the station. ‘I’ll miss you.’, she said, pecking his cheek. She felt him get away from her touch as he said, ‘It’s only the weekend.’ ‘Right.’, she sighed, feigning a small smile. Wordlessly, he turned around and walked away as she made her way back to her carriage.

While she was set to return to Hogwarts on Monday morning, she had planned to surprise Theo by returning on Sunday evening. She had baked lasagne for him, the recipe for which she had taken from the Nott’s house elf, in an attempt to make it taste like his mother’s. She knew how much he missed her and how this dish was his comfort food when she used to make it for him. She had also bought him a watch that he had had his eye on for a while, ‘only the best for Theo.’, she had said after her cousin noted that it was way too expensive of a gift.

When she returned to Hogwarts, she made sure to enter the Slytherin common room, when it was the time for the boys’ Quidditch practice. She set her luggage in her dorm and got ready in a dress that Theo had gifted her. She went down to the common room and set up a table in a secluded corner to have some privacy. She laid it all with fancy shit, the silverware, the Italian wine that was Theo’s favourite and the dish in the middle. She sat on one of the chairs which had a clear view of the common room door, waiting for him to return, like she had done several times before. She rested her chin on her hands as she laid her head down on the table. It was almost time for dinner, other students were leaving the common room to go to the Great Hall, but Theo still hadn’t returned. She had an uneasy feeling in her chest as she waited for him, her heart growing heavy with every passing moment.

Soon, the sound of the door opening made her perk her head up slightly. The scene that unfolded in front of her, made her breath hitch and her heartbeat falter. Theo entered the common room with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of another girl, their faces inches apart as Theo leaned in and whispered something in her ear that made her grin. ‘Theo?’, she called out, the feeling of being broken evident in her voice. Theo turned at the mention of his name, his steps faltering and his hand returning to his side quickly as her eyes met Y/N’s figure slowly standing up from the chair. ‘Y/N, wha-what are you doing here?’, he stuttered, the faintest hint of frustration in his voice. His dead eyes took in the view, the table all set in front of him with the food and wine. ‘What-what is going on? Who is she?’, she scoffed in disbelief, her eyes wandering between the two of them. ‘Y/N…Let me explain. Come with me.’, he started, moving towards her, his hand stretching out to hold hers. She snatched her hand away, shaking her head, ‘If it’s all in my head, tell me now. Tell me I have got it wrong somehow. Were you going to cheat on me?’

She searched his face, waiting for an answer, waiting to see the briefest glimpse of remorse or guilt in his emotionless eyes. ‘Or have you done it already?’, she said upon not receiving an answer, looking at him, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. Theo didn’t meet her gaze, his eyes focussed on the floor, ‘I-I’m sorry.’ ‘Oh, you’re sorry? Is that it?’, she said, her anger taking up over the grief. He looked up, meeting her eyes as the tears rolled down her cheek, ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She sighed in disbelief, her rose-coloured glasses coming off. ‘You have always tolerated me, haven’t you? You never loved me, it was always a facade. A fucking act! All of it!’, she spat, her fist slamming on the table. ‘What did I not do for you? I made you this food that you liked! Bought this wine, this watch you wanted!’, she said, as she flipped over the items, throwing them on the floor as they shattered. ‘Y/N, don’t make a scene. It’s not like that.’, he said, closing his eyes. ‘Oh, you have some fucking nerve, Theodore. I made you my everything, gave you all that I had, and went through all that shit you threw at me. For what? For this?’, she spat coming closer to him, the use of ‘Theodore’ instead of ‘Theo’ making him wince. ‘Anyone else would be lucky to have a person who would love them like this, but you had to throw all of this in the flames didn’t you? My love should’ve been celebrated but you tolerated it. All the while I thought that you were finally coming around.’, she said, every word, every bit of realisation making her heart shatter further, as he shook his head, denying her accusations.

‘Tell me, Theodore. What would you do, if I left everything? If I break free, take this dagger you put in me and remove it? It would leave you in ruins, you know that. You know your father and what he’s capable of.’, she said. Theo looked up and the mention of his father made him realise how royally he had fucked up. ‘I’m sorry, Y/N. Just talk to me once, please.’, he pleaded. She shook her head, ready to walk away from everything with him, ‘There’s nothing left to talk about, Theodore. It’s all over.’

#fanfic #writing #harry potter #hogwarts #wizardblr #hpimagines #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theo #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #hp fandom #harry potter fandom

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the-cosmic-cauldron · 5 months ago

Text

Jupiter shows where you tend to overdo things. Here’s a description based on its placement in each house:

1st House

• You have a strong, dominant personality and often want to be the center of attention.

• You can be overly demanding and push too hard for your goals.

• Your fashion style may be excessive, and you might indulge in cosmetic procedures or wear a lot of jewelry and accessories.

• You tend to spend heavily on your appearance and may try to juggle too many things at once.

• There’s a tendency to be overly focused on yourself.

2nd House

• You may hoard items or shop impulsively, often buying things just because.

• There’s a tendency to overwork, possibly juggling multiple sources of income.

• Spending on cosmetics, hair, clothes, and style can get excessive, and cosmetic enhancements may be frequent.

• You might prioritize stability to an extreme and focus heavily on having a structured, set life.

3rd House

• You may talk excessively, engage in frequent debates or arguments, and interact with many people.

• Constantly learning, you may have too many tabs open—both literally and figuratively.

• Your mind is filled with endless ideas, and you might overcommit to various educational programs.

• You could spend too much time with siblings or excessively text and talk on the phone.

• Spend excessive time on your phone.

• Spend a significant amount of time talking to others.

4th House

• You might spend an excessive amount of time at home with family and friends.

• Constant redecorating or buying things for your home is common.

• You may overindulge in comfort activities like staying in bed, cuddling, or enjoying home-cooked meals.

5th House

• You can be overly expressive and may try to juggle multiple hobbies or projects at once.

• Romantic relationships may become excessive, with frequent dating or hookups.

• You might have many children or find yourself in party and nightlife scenes too often.

• Overindulgence in fun, partying, or avoiding responsibilities can be a challenge.

6th House

• You may be a workaholic, often juggling several jobs and constantly staying busy.

• Helping others and being productive might become excessive, leaving little time for rest.

• You could overdo your wellness routine, such as dieting, exercising, or taking supplements.

• Obsession with skincare, hygiene, or maintaining a youthful appearance may develop.

7th House

• Relationships may be a central focus, with frequent dating, multiple marriages, or seeking romance excessively.

• You might rely heavily on others, becoming co-dependent or overly people-pleasing.

• There’s a tendency to overanalyze different perspectives or play devil’s advocate too often.

• Obsession with approval from people who don’t like you could arise.

8th House

• You may constantly crave change and new experiences.

• There’s a tendency toward excessive intimacy, with a high body count or obsession with sex.

• Financially, you might seek wealthy partners or focus too much on joint resources.

• You may overindulge in analyzing people, diving deeply into psychology, or exploring taboo topics.

9th House

• You might pursue multiple degrees, certifications, or philosophical discussions excessively.

• There’s a strong urge to travel frequently or learn about different cultures.

• You may have a lot of beliefs and constantly search for meaning in life.

• Overdoing growth and chasing life experiences can leave you feeling ungrounded.

10th House

• You might be overly focused on improving your career and achieving status.

• There’s a tendency to obsess over your image, goals, and purpose in life.

• You may become fixated on reaching the top of your career, gaining power, or finding your ultimate life purpose, often to the detriment of other areas of life.

11th House

• You could become overly focused on finding friends or fitting into social groups.

• There’s a tendency to immerse yourself in humanitarian causes, fighting for equity, and solving societal problems.

• You may obsess over social media, community involvement, or niche projects.

• Dreams and aspirations could dominate your attention, leaving little room for balance in other aspects of life.

12th House

• You might spend excessive time introspecting, trying to figure out yourself, others, and the world.

• There’s a tendency to become overly spiritual or religious, diving deeply into escapism or dreamlike states.

• Isolation can become excessive, with a strong urge to withdraw from society or live off-grid.

• Addictive tendencies or living in a fantasy world may surface.

• Overindulgence in healing or imagining life as you wish it to be could lead to a lack of groundedness in reality.

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literaryvein-reblogs · 7 months ago

Note

Any advice for figuring out how to work on writing characters arguing?

I’m just curious and also I mistakenly derailed part of my writing over struggling to write a scene of characters starting an argument that was meant to escalate.

Writing Notes: Arguments

Arguing is full of tension.

Even benign conversations between friends so often belies subtextual personal agendas that are antagonistic or covertly full of anger or upset.

Honesty itself sometimes is the product of extreme tension and upset.

One’s resistance to telling the truth to another or admitting to oneself a truth can be excruciatingly tense and stressful, even between lovers.

SIDESTEPPING

You instantly create conflict in dialogue when you avoid “on the nose” responses.

On the nose means a direct response, sometimes even echoing the previous line.

You can avoid direct response:

With a statement that is unrelated to the prompting dialogue

By answering a question with a question

With a line of dialogue that is going to need some explanation

Also consider using silence:

“Are you ready to go, dear?” Bob asked. Sylvia said nothing.

Or use an action response:

“Are you ready to go, dear?” Bob asked. Sylvia picked up the mirror.

OPPOSING AGENDAS

Always know what each character wants in a given scene.

If a character in a scene is just taking up space, give him an agenda or get him out of there. Or cut the scene entirely.

Scenes require conflict or tension, even if it’s subtle.

Before you write the scene, note what each character wants.

Then spend a few moments playing with those motivations.

List 3 other possible motives for each of the characters, then mix and match to decide which ones will make for the best conflict.

It is also important to create tension among allies.

One of the danger points in fiction is when two friends, or people who are at least on the same side, have a talk about what’s going on. The trouble is there might not be any trouble between them. So much of the dialogue becomes a friendly chat.

This will violate Alfred Hitchcock’s axiom (Hitchcock once said that a good story is “life, with the dull parts taken out.”).

The fastest way to handle it is to make sure there is tension manifested from the start.

Create tension in at least one of the characters, preferably the viewpoint character.

Example: When you have Allison meeting Melissa, her college friend, for coffee, don’t have them sit down and start talking as if nothing’s wrong in the world. Put the trouble of the story into Allison’s mind and nervous system and make it an impediment to her conversation with Melissa. In Melissa, place something that might be in opposition to Allison’s needs. Allison needs to ask Melissa’s advice about a crumbling marriage. Maybe Melissa is full of news about her sister’s impending wedding to a wonderful man and gushes about the prospects.

Spend some time brainstorming about the ways two friends or allies can be at odds. Then weave those things into the dialogue.

DIALOGUE AS WEAPON

Look for places where you can use dialogue as a weapon, a means for your characters to charge ahead in order to get what they want.

Keep in mind that dialogue is action.

It’s a physical act used by characters to help them get what they want. If they don’t want anything in a scene, they shouldn’t be there.

Note that not all weapons are explosive. They can be small and sharp, too.

PARENT-ADULT-CHILD

A great tool for creating instant conflict in dialogue is the Parent-Adult-Child model, popularized in the book Games People Play by Eric Berne (1964). This school of psychology is called Transactional Analysis.

The theory holds that we tend to occupy roles in life and relationships.

The 3 primary roles are Parent, Adult, and Child (PAC):

The Parent - the seat of authority, the one who can “lay down the law.” S/he has the raw strength, from position or otherwise, to rule and then enforce his/her rulings.

The Adult - the objective one, the one who sees things rationally and is therefore the best one to analyze a situation. “Let’s be adult about this,” one might say in the midst of an argument.

The Child - not rational, and not with any real power. So what does s/he do? Reacts emotionally. Throws tantrums to try to get his/her way. Even an adult can do this. We’ve all seen clandestine videos that prove this point.

So it is a helpful thing to consider what role each character is assuming in a scene.

How do they see themselves? What is their actual role? (It may indeed be different than what they perceive it to be.)

Most important, how will they act in order to accomplish their goal in the scene?

Answering these questions can give you a way to shape your dialogue so there is constant tension and conflict throughout.

Also consider that the characters might change their roles (try something new) in order to get their way. Thus, this is a never-ending source of conflict possibilities and only takes a few moments to set up.

TIP ON DIALOGUE

Look at all of your dialogue exchanges, especially ones that run for a page or more.

Analyze what roles the characters think they’re inhabiting.

Rework the dialogue by getting each character to be more assertive in their claimed role. (Also note that a character can change roles as a matter of strategy. For example, if the Parent isn’t working, a character might switch to pouting like a Child in order to get his way.)

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Hope this helps with your writing!

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cottonlemonade · 3 months ago

Text

Marriage Of Convenience [Part 2]

word count: 1926 || avg. reading time: 11 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, slice of life

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Marriage is not a big deal, right? Anyone can do it and it comes with a whole lot of benefits! That’s why your friend proposes to you one morning with all the elegance and romance of an empty pudding cup.

[Part 1]

While it was Tetsuro’s turn to host lunch the following Saturday, you sat at his kitchen island on his laptop, pouring over yet another form.

“Who knew marriage came with this much bureaucracy?”, you huffed out.

This one was from JVA’s HR department who wasted no time wanting you two to update your name, emergency contacts, marital status, and home address.

He hummed in agreement as he diced an onion, trying his hardest not to breathe and just squint at the vegetable to avoid any sting in his eyes.

After successfully transferring it into the hot pan without a single tear, he turned to you, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. You were still filling in boxes here and there when he stepped behind you and studied your entries thus far.

“Why did you put your apartment as our home address?”

You swiveled your stool, challenging eyebrow raised.

“Because my place is better.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Because you come over every morning for breakfast, that’s why.” You began listing, counting on your fingers for emphasis, “It has a balcony, a great kitchen, big friendly windows,”

“You make it sound like my home is a prison.”

“Mine is closer to work-“

“By like three minutes!”

“Our favorite bakery is right across the street and the rent is just about the same. There is no contest, really.”

“I have an extra room.”, he said simply, walking back to the stove and stirring the onions now with a wooden spoon. Your eyes followed him as you spun back around.

“Why would that be a good argument? I’m not planning on reproducing with you.”

“Okay, rude. And also, so you want to sleep with me in the same bed, is that it?”

Your fingers froze over the keyboard and your superior smile, formed by sure, premature victory, fell and a pout took its place.

“Man…”, you tapped the backspace repeatedly to clear the designated line, muttering, “I didn’t wanna move, it’s so much work.”

“That’s what you have such a big, strong husband for.”, he grinned and straightened up to showcase how broad his shoulders were, then kind of deflated back into his normal posture as he peeled potatoes, “And besides, we can do that during our honeymoon.”

You shrugged and nodded in defeat as you put down his address. Upon learning of your marriage, the company had swiftly provided three extra vacation days for this coming week as a gift to the newlyweds - this was no surprise to you as it had been one of the highlights in the marriage presentation.

With an overly loud groan, Tetsuro placed the last box on the floor by your bed, only to immediately collapse onto your mattress. It was still wrapped in heavy plastic to protect it during the move and crinkled when he sat up on his elbows.

“You know, I think now is a fantastic opportunity to revisit our plan for the office.”

You pulled a couple of books from a box, thinking if maybe it was time for a new sorting system of the shelf.

“Wifey? You there?”

“You really gotta stop with that.”

He smirked when you rolled your eyes, “But why, if it annoys you so much?”

You ignored him and pondered, weighing a book in your hand, “Okay. Office. Hmm… To be fair, what is there that we don’t do already? We go for lunch together most days, we talk, we joke, we go home. It’s not like Japan is known for its PDA.”

“True true. But instead of walking in as per usual, we could hold hands. I really can’t have people think I’m not affectionate with my-“, he paused upon your glare before ending with, “oh so lovely wife.”

“Okay. Hand-holding is permitted. - What do we say to friends?”

“You can tell them whatever you want.”

“Even Asana?”

She was your best friend in the entire world after all and even the one who introduced you to the recruiters at JVA a couple of years ago. Now she sat at the desk next to you in the office.

“Sure, as long as you swear her to secrecy.”

“I’ll even pinky swear if that makes you feel better.”

“Actually a lot better, thanks. - Ugh.”, he dropped back down with an exhausted sigh to fully starfish on the mattress for a moment, then sat back up, “Alright. Imma take a shower and then be a good hubby and get started on dinner. Just tell me, if you need any help.” He got up and walked towards the door, then stopped and flexed unnecessarily, “Especially with building stuff or changing light bulbs.”

“All good, I can manage.”, you replied without looking up.

Tetsuro tilted his head, “Over dinner, we’ll need to have a serious conversation about your aversion to this whole marriage role-play.”

You laughed and used the door in his back to push him out.

On Thursday then, the first day back at work, you tried your best to peek around the giant gift basket your coworkers had gotten you. To not look ungrateful by putting it below the desk on the ground, you had resigned yourself to push it as far to the table’s edge as possible, but it was simply so big that it was still somewhat in the way. At least now, it was only slightly limiting your ability to do your job. The huge flower bouquet that had accompanied the basket was no longer covering half your screen since Tetsuro, under many bows and thank yous, placed it in a pitcher with water on the window sill.

“Here.”, Asana said, rolling over a little cabinet that previously had stacks of important documents on top of it. Those documents were now precariously placed by an already wonky mountain of binders.

Together with her, you heaved the basket onto the cabinet where, although centered, it hung over on all sides.

“I’ll never get this back home on the train.”, you observed, while Asana leaned against the corner of your desk.

“Don’t you mean we, darling?” Tetsuro just came back from the break room and replaced your empty cup of coffee with a new, steaming cup of tea. You rolled your eyes and Asana laughed - you had filled her in the moment she came into the office that morning, pouting that she hadn’t been invited to the wedding. Safely hidden in the supply closet, you had explained to her in urgent whispers, how the whole situation came to be in the first place and detailed how just that morning you and him had stood in front of the office building, looking up at the many windows reflecting the early light. After a moment’s silence, Tetsuro then adjusted the bag that hung over his shoulder and held out his hand to you expectantly, and you had taken it with minimal hesitation. You had held his hand before a few times when you two maneuvered a crowd at a fair or in a shopping mall, but this was definitely not the same. And he wasn’t satisfied with just holding your hand, but instead slipped his fingers between yours. Apparently, he had read somewhere that couples in an equal, loving relationship held hands this way. You felt your palm getting sweaty, nervous about the impending charade. It was a perfectly valid, legal marriage, of course, but you knew that if anyone found out about the motive behind it, raised eyebrows would be the least of your worries. You told Asana how you thought everyone you passed was staring (they were not) and how people must be whispering about you to one another (they weren’t). In reality, no one even noticed until you reached your department, and that’s when the party poppers and cheers erupted.

Now, Tetsuro fished a stray piece of confetti from your hair and balanced it on his fingertip in front of your nose.

“Make a wish, darling.”

You cocked an annoyed brow, a gesture that had risen exponentially in use ever since you’d moved in together.

“That’s for eyelashes, you dork.”

“If my wife wants something, she shall not be limited by arbitrary things like eyelashes and shooting stars to wish on.”

You sighed and unceremoniously puffed the confetti off his finger.

“Go away.”

Under another snort of Asana, Tetsuro bowed and as he did, began walking away backwards.

“As you wish.”

“That’s who you married.”, Asana pitied with a chuckle.

Under your breath, you muttered, “Don’t remind me.”, sending both of you into another wave of silent laughter.

“Miss L/N. Oh! Apologies, Mrs Kuroo. - Ha, that will take some getting used to.” Your boss sauntered over, causing Asana to quickly detach herself from your desk and return to her own seat, pretending to be busy while listening in, “I was just talking to your husband.” He unnecessarily waved in Tetsuro’s direction a few meters away, and he waved back with a wide smile, “I suggested to him that to properly celebrate these wonderful news, we should all go out tonight for a drink. And he told me to ask his wife for permission.” You threw a quick glare past your boss to Tetsuro, who was still waving idiotically.

“Of course, sir. That… that sounds nice. Thank you very much.”

“Wonderful. I’ll make reservations right away. Don’t you worry about a thing!” And with that, he practically skipped away.

It took about two more weeks for the excitement around the newlyweds to die down. Gradually, people stopped emphasizing your new surname or ooh-ing whenever you two went to lunch together, now awkwardly holding hands. Day by day, normalcy returned to the JVA headquarters and even casual closeness to Tetsuro came much easier to you. The performance was mutually dropped as soon as you left the company parking lot, and you hardly missed your apartment anymore - only when Tetsuro loudly sang in the shower. One Friday evening, you shuffled home alone, having had to work overtime for a project you were in charge of. After reassuring him you had it under control, you sent Tetsuro off to his workout routine, promising to meet him at home with dinner ready. For once, he spared you an overly teasing comment about how domestic this was of you and instead left with a simple, “Thank you. See you later, darling.”

You couldn’t wait to be home and slip into something more comfortable than the tight pencil skirt you wore today, the waistband of which always pressed uncomfortably into your handfuls of tummy chub, especially after spending so many extra hours hunched over proposals and schedules. Letting the sweatpants snap into place, you let out a happy sigh and made your way to his - to your - kitchen to see if you could find something to snack on while cooking.

The string cheese was slowly getting hoovered into your mouth while you poured the marinade over Tetsuro’s beloved mackerel when keys jangled at the front door.

“Kitchen!”, you called before he had a chance to look for you. Shoes were kicked off in the entryway and a moment later Tetsuro rounded the corner, taking a seat at the island.

“I have good news and bad news.”, he said instead of a Hello.

“Oh no.”

“The good news is, I met Mr Maeda at the gym and can easily outlift him.”

You snorted, almost losing your cheese, and frowned. Your snack safely tucked in the corner of your mouth, you asked, “And the bad news?”

“He invited us to a double date with his wife.”

art: @freaka_loonyz on Instagram, X, Pinterest and TikTok

taglist: @etsuniiru @nocaffeineallowedtome @princessshart

a/n: Once again, thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for keeping me sane while working on this and for helping me edit.

[Part 3]

#kuroo x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #husband kuroo #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo testuro #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo x you

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a-hazbin-reader · 1 year ago

Note

Hey did you get my ask/request of Alastor and Wife!reader having an argument and Alastor says something horrible to her leaving him to have to make up for it?

I did, I just have a lot of stuff in my inbox

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being in the DOGHOUSE

Description: ☝️⬆️

Alastor doesn't mind fighting, likes to bicker with and irritate those around him as some strange show of dominance

But his wife is an exception, he hates fighting with his wife and goes to great lengths to avoid it

Despite his efforts, you two do still fight from time to time and he hates it, he tries so hard to reign in that cruel part of him

He doesn't really even remember what started the fight, probably something dangerous he did that upset you

Something like the Adam stunt

And he probably tried to brush it off, his pride not letting him admit that your fears were warranted

You were understandably getting worked up over his dismissal, and he was getting irritated that you wouldn't just drop it

Everyone else in the hotel had scattered and hidden the moment you two started to uncharacteristically raise your voices at each other

Angel had to grab Niffy to stop her from watching the entire argument play out

He just doesn't want to scare you with the idea of losing him, he wants to be your strong, invincible husband

It makes him uncomfortable that you see beyond the powerful overlord demon and instead zero in on the man beneath it all

"Darling, I would understand your fears if I hadn't come back to you in one piece, but I'm here. With you. Perfectly fine."

You could rip your hair out due to frustration, almost in tears, how could he not understand how you felt?

"Alastor! That's not the point! You can't be so reckless! It's not just you that you have to worry about anymore! You have a wife! You have to live and be safe for me!"

He fears a pang of anger over being told what to do, rage and irritation over the unintentional reminder of his failure to win

Which makes his mind wander to his deal, his fucking leash

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes what he's saying

"If I knew that everything I do had to be approved by you then, I would've rethought this whole marriage ordeal."

Alastor regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, his ears folding back at the sight of your hurt expression

Your eyes have tears in them but you're doing your best to hold them in, turning on your heel to leave the room

"Wait-Darling, I didn't-"

"Just...give me some space, Alastor."

He regrets it so much, watching you walk away from him when he should be begging for forgiveness

He hates seeing you so upset but he hates being the reason for it even more

Alastor tries to give you the space you asked for, but it's difficult when all he wants to do is make up with you already

But he also doesn't want to actually talk about what happened

So he breaks fairly easily when he sees you again, coming up behind you and hugging you

Only to be shrugged off when he goes for a small kiss, left with a sinking feeling in his stomach

"I said to give me space, I'm not ready to talk to you yet."

Normally, Alastor loves it when you're cruel and cold, finds it a little hot, but when it's aimed at him? He hates it so fucking much

Literally looks like a kicked puppy when you walk away from him again, Charlie and Vaggie looking at anything but him

"You know what, Charlie? I do see that crack in the wall!"

He tries again later, sitting next to you and trying to wrap an arm around your shoulders while the radio bursts to life with a love song

Only to be rewarded with an ill hidden sniffle and you immediately getting up to walk away from him

"If you're not going to apologize and have a genuine conversation with me then don't even bother."

It's driving Alastor crazy not being able to be with you, to not be able to properly make up with you

But he still doesn't want to admit he messed up or have that uncomfortable conversation with you

So he tries lavish gifts and other romantic gestures that all get rejected or given to Niffty to do whatever she wants with them

"Yay!! I'm going to poison these and give them to the mother bugs!!"

Okay...maybe Angel should have these...

Alastor is starting to understand that he can't just gloss over this one

He understands it a little more later that night when you go to bed without him, and he's left too nervous to follow after you

Several hours into the night, the guilt eats at him and he breaks, sneaking into the bedroom

You're awake, your eyes red rimmed from crying but you manage to give him a glare before turning your back to him

"Darling, I believe I owe you an apology..."

The way your tense body relaxes is all he needs, crawling into bed with you and pulling you to his chest

It's a difficult pill for him to swallow, so it's easier for him to have these conversations with you like this

He doesn't want you to see his weakness even when he's laying it out for you

Luckily, Alastor is good with his words and you're willing to listen now that an apology is on the table

It's a long conversation that leaves you both sleepless and emotional in each other's arms

But things are settled and Alastor is forgiven, happy to be back in your good graces

He tried to be strong and hold himself back, he really did... but being without the warmth of your love was torture for him

It was a rough couple of hours for him

HA WHIPPED

"Angel, shut the fuck up before you get yourself killed!"

He's extra clingy and romantic with you for DAYS afterwards, making everyone else at the hotel practically nauseous

Except for Charlie, of course, she loves it

He's just so relieved that you've forgiven him, still disgusted with himself for even saying what he said

Asks you for yet another kiss that morning before Husk finally walks away, annoyed by Alastor's neediness

You don't mind your husband's clingy antics, enjoying the extra attention he's giving you

You should get mad at him more often

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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favefandomimagines · 1 year ago

Text

blue eyes crying in the rain (a.b)

Summary: your marriage with Anthony was a dream; until it all went slightly sour.

AN: I love a good angsty Anthony fic

When you first met Anthony Bridgerton, it was like time stopped. You had heard the rumors that he was not searching for a marriage built of love but a marriage built on duty. But everything changed when Daphne introduced her friend and her brother. It was as if you were the only people in the room.

Everyone else simply did not exist. He was charming, intelligent, he made you feel as if you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

Anthony was enamored with you. You were the perfect woman physically but you were perfect just simply a person. You made him laugh, made him feel seen and loved. It was terrifying to him that one day the same fate that took his father would take you too.

But he could not care any less. The two of you wed at the end of June and everything was purse bliss. Until you returned from your honeymoon. It had not taken much for you to become with child and you were pregnant. Once you became pregnant, Anthony changed. He spent more and more time in his study or with his brothers.

You rarely saw him outside of going to bed and you felt isolated. You were going through this pregnancy alone. Had he regretted the marriage? Were you not desirable anymore now that you were with child? Too many intrusive thoughts clouded your brain and you had no one to talk to. You would rather not alert the rest of the family to the troubles that you and Anthony were facing. So you were handling that alone as well.

It was late one night, way past midnight by the time Anthony got home. Benedict was dragging him across the foyer of your home as you stood on the stairs in your robe.

“Y/N, what are you doing up? You shouldn’t be awake at this hour in your condition.” Benedict commented. “Well, I was waiting for my husband but that seemed futile two hours ago.” You replied. “My apologies, Y/N. I did not mean to keep him out so late.” Benedict replied.

“It was my idea, my darling Y/N. We had some business to attend to.” Anthony slurred. “You have been attending to business quite a bit.” You spoke. Both Bridgerton brothers could see that you were not pleased.

Benedict excused himself, giving you a smile before exiting the home. “Anthony, this has gotten out of hand.” You spoke. “What has?” He questioned. “You are gone all hours of the night, while I’m left alone.” You answered.

“It feels as though I'm facing this pregnancy alone. You're never here!” You added. “I have responsibilities, Y/N. You know that.” Anthony replied. “Responsibilities? Is that what you call it? Neglecting your wife and child?” You rebutted. “I provide for you, don’t I? Is that not enough?” Anthony argued back.

“No, Anthony, it is not! I need you here, with me, not off attending to your clubs and politics!” You yelled. This was the first time you had raised your voice with Anthony. It was a side to you he had never seen before.

"Those clubs and politics secure our future, Y/N. You think I do this for fun?" Anthony said back. “When you are gone every night, yes I think you do it for fun. I think you've forgotten what's truly important. I'm carrying your child!" You said. "And I'm doing everything I can to ensure our child's future!" Anthony yelled back.

"What about our present? What about me? Do I not deserve your time?" You asked him. "I don't have time to argue about this." Anthony said, rather than answering.

He walked around you back up the stairs, walking away from you and the argument. "That's your answer to everything, isn't it? Avoidance!" You called after him. "I can't be with you every moment. You knew this when we married." Your husband said.

“I am aware of that Anthony, but I didn't expect to feel so alone in my own marriage." You replied, following after him.. “You’re being unfair.” Anthony said, stopping to turn to you. "I'm being honest! I need you, Anthony. Our child needs you." You told him, standing face to face with him. “I’m doing the best I can!” Anthony yelled.

There was a rage in his eyes that scared you. This was not the man you had married, this was a completely different person. Where did the love he had for you go? Where had the kind, gentle man go?

“Your best isn’t good enough. Not anymore. Every time I look at you, I see a stranger. Where did the man I married go?” You responded, sadness lacing your voice.

You both fell silent, standing in the hallway. You moved to walk around him back to your bed chambers. “I need some time alone, please.” You said. “Y/N, wait-” Anthony started. “No, Anthony. Just let me be.” You interrupted, this time not returning his gaze.

Anthony watched you walk away and close the door behind you. He cursed himself as he walked to his study. He hadn’t realized just how badly he was hurting you. His pride and ego prevented him from seeing it. He was raised better than how he was behaving and he was hurting his wife.

He wanted to fix it, he needed to fix it. But you had made abundantly clear that you needed space. But how much space?

The next morning, you and Anthony didn’t speak a word to each other at breakfast. Anthony was urging to hear your voice but you were steadfast in remaining silent. He watched as you finished your breakfast and moved to stand from your seat.

A look of discomfort crossed your features as you stood. You grabbed your stomach as you continued to stand fully.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asked. Your lady’s maid came to your side to help you stand fully. “Thank you, Gloria.” You said to her kindly. You took your leave to the garden, Anthony watching you as you left.

“Gloria, keep a watchful eye on her.” He instructed the maid. “Yes, my lord.” Gloria responded, walking after you.

Later that afternoon, as you were in the sitting room, you felt that sharp pain in your stomach again. You moved quickly and placed your hand on your stomach again. But as the pain increased, you winced and soon your winces became groans of pain.

“My lady, what is the matter?” Gloria asked you. “I do not know. I-I have some pain in my stomach.” You answered. Gloria instructed the other maid to go fetch the Viscount as she stayed by your side.

“I don’t want to worry him.” You spoke. “But what if something is wrong?” Gloria questioned. You were about to reply when the pain increased and felt like a dagger to your stomach.

You let out an even louder groan of pain as Anthony rushed into the room. “Y/N, darling, what’s wrong?” He asked, kneeling in front of you. “The pain started this morning and now it won’t stop.” You explained. “I-Is the baby coming?” He questioned. “No, this is different. Anthony, what if something’s wrong?” You replied.

Anthony looked at you for a moment, seeing your fear and your pain. “Call the doctor. Tell him it’s an emergency.” Anthony instructed his butler. “I-I don’t know what this could mean. What if I lose the baby?” You panicked.

“Y/N, look at me,” Anthony started. He grabbed her hands and you looked at him with watery eyes. “Our baby is going to be okay. You are going to be okay. I know I wasn’t here before but I am here now and I love you.” Your husband told you. “I love you too.” You replied.

When the doctor arrived, you were escorted to your chambers so you could be more comfortable while he was examining you. The doctor was quiet as he examined you, not saying much. That bothered Anthony. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Nothing to comfort you or reassure you that your baby was okay.

“The baby is alright, Lady Bridgerton. You experienced a rather normal part of pregnancy; contractions that don’t lead to labor. They are quite alarming, especially given that this is your first child, but the baby is okay.” He explained. “So she’s okay?” Anthony asked. “Yes. Both mother and child are healthy.” The doctor answered.

You let out a subtle sigh of relief as you rested your head against the bed frame. At the door, the butler escorted the doctor out and Anthony turned to look at you.The adrenaline from the fear he felt had finally worn off and now he was just terrified.

Anthony moved to sit next to you on the edge of the bed and took your hand in his. “I have been an awful husband.” He spoke. “Anthony,” You sighed.

“I have heard the risks of childbirth. Women die while birthing a child and I do not think I’ve ever been more terrified than I was at this moment. I thought I would lose you and our child. I caught a glimpse into what my mother felt when she lost my father and I never want to feel that. I’ve been wasting precious time with you just because I was scared.” Anthony continued.

You finally understood why he had distanced himself since you fell pregnant. He was afraid he was going to lose you during childbirth. You wished he would have come to you with his fears rather than pushing you away when you needed him most.

“Anthony, I do not plan on going anywhere. I wish you would have just told me what you were feeling. It’s alright to be vulnerable, especially with me. It doesn’t make you less of a man.” You finally said.

“I know that now. And I am so sorry for neglecting you the way I did. You needed me and I wasn’t there.” Anthony said. “I forgive you.” You told him.

Anthony looked at you with disbelief, fully convinced you wouldn’t forgive him for his behavior.

“I love you, Anthony. We have to forgive the ones we love for their mistakes. Besides, if the stress of being mad at you is what caused my condition, I’d rather not go through it again.” You teased.

Anthony gave you a tearful laugh before kissing you deeply.

Two months later, you welcome a healthy baby boy into the world. And he has his father wrapped around his finger.

#imagine #imagines #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

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queers-gambit · 9 months ago

Text

Commander

prompt: ( requested ) being on opposite sides of the Rings eventually sends your husband back into your arms, and between your legs. haha, nice.

pairing: Elrond x female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 4.6k+

note: it is NOT said (that i've heard) that Elrond wears his father's cloak - that's just author being sentimental.

warnings: not edited, some obvious angst, mostly hurt and comfort, romance, established relationship, small relationship angst, smut, is this a Commander kink? i'm not sure. small spoilers, sibling reader.

bonus

The trees of Lindon glimmered gold and winked in the sunlight as vibrant veins of restored Light flowed through them all. It was a gorgeous sight; one you were happy to bask in after nearly losing it to the dark depths of evil corrupting Middle-earth. The only reason you had this glorious sight of twinkling beauty was because you had alined yourself with Galadriel and Celebrimbor about the distribution and use of the Elven Rings of Power - though you did not wish to claim one.

You merely desired the salvation of your people on this Middle-earth the Valar gifted The Children of Ilúvatar.

In order to support the Rings, you had to oppose the only person you had ever loved unconditionally, and nothing hurt like that. Despite the pain, disruption, turmoil, the angst it put you and Elrond through, you did not waver in your opinion - but he did not relent in his stance, either.

That was usually a quality you adored in your husband; how stubborn, strong, enduring, passionate, educated, and unrelenting he was. Yet for this, you were beyond frustrated.

You remembered the look of utter betrayal in his eyes when he stormed away the day the Rings were all claimed by Círdan, Gil-Galad, and Galadriel. He couldn't look at you, on those stairs, opposing him and defending the Rings. So, he fled the scene - unable to hide how displeased, unhappy, and horrified he felt.

After that, the two of you began to bicker over simple, common, mundane, marital situations; he instigated fights, prolonged arguments, even lit purposeful fires to force you into verbal altercations. You argued endlessly, needlessly, heatedly about things that voices didn't need raised for. Tension followed you everywhere, filled every room, and after just a few nights... Elrond decided he couldn't sleep in your shared chambers any longer.

You had returned from duty to find him sending several cases of his personal belongings away, freezing when he realized you had caught him. He looked akin to a startled animal. "I did not mean for you to see this," he offered stiffly as if embarrassed, "I-I thought you were on patrol."

"I was switched to the nightshift," you explained meekly, watching servants stream from the room with their arms full of his desired effects. "W-What's going on? What're you doing?"

Elrond sighed, unable to meet your eyes for several long minutes. Then, he licked his lips, nodded, and told you, "I just figured, considering the state of affairs, we'd benefit - "

"Our marriage isn't an 'affair', Elrond!" You snapped, tears filling your eyes. "We're just in a strange state, couples are allowed to disagree, there's a lot unknown - "

"I can't stay here anymore, love, and watch how much I'm hurting you," his head shook. "You think you're silent, but I hear your weeping. I know you avoid coming to bed because I'm there first. You used to pin my robes in the morning, and now, I'm lucky if I even catch a glimpse of your skirt as you rush out the door as I wake. We're not happy anymore, Y/N..."

You froze, lungs shriveling into nothing, shock pumping into your system. "Yo-You're not happy?" You stuttered, stumbling back a couple steps as if he had brandished a sword.

Elrond just stared at you, asking, "Are you? Truly?"

"Generally, yes! I am certainly not so unhappy that I want us apart! This is just a difficult position we're in, but we will get past it, Elrond, we always do!"

"This isn't just a difficult position," he snapped, shocking you back another single step. "We're at odds, starshine, and I hate to admit it. But this is bigger than us, than our love - this is fundamental - "

"And about more than us! Yes! That's what I'm thinking of, Elrond, our people!"

"And what of Sauron? What of his influence upon the Rings!?"

"What of the good they've done? What of the connection?"

"What do you mean - "

"Galadriel!" You snapped. "The obvious connection the Ring amplifies within her! There is a grave new sense she and the other Ringer Bearers have. She can use this Ring to-to-to sense evil, perhaps even see ahead of the enemy! It might be his influence, but aren't we stronger? Stronger than him, together?"

"Those who wear the Rings - "

"You speak of your former mentor, the Elven High King, and your greatest friend. Which of them will you predict to fall?"

"After Galadriel’s already fallen prey - "

"But she is the wiser, the stronger for it! She is thrice as determined before! Why must these Rings divide us, Elrond? Why can we not simply say we leave all politics at the door when we are together?"

Sadly, slowly, he shuffled closer and reached out to caress your cheek. "I love you, my star," he reminded, "but in knowing your stance, I cannot allow us to continue being so destructive to each other. Support the Rings, my love," he lowered his forehead to yours, "but I cannot stand at your side while you do so... Not when I know of Sauron's influence..."

You pulled back, sniffling down the tears that surfaced to nod with a sarcastic smile. "I thought when we took our vows of matrimony, we'd hold true... But I can see, you do not intend to see us through this bog."

"That's where you're wrong," he snarled, stepping closer to hold both of your upper arms and jostle you slightly, "don't you see? Don't you understand? We need the space or we'll keep hurting one another, and I don't know if there's a way for us to heal after that. As of now, we stand a chance, but only if we curate distance - so we need to proceed individually as we need best."

His reasoning was logical, but you were beyond hurt by his departure. Perhaps it was for the best; especially when the High King decided to send a scouting party after Sauron, anointing Elrond as Commander, and upon the news, you panicked. Like, fully broke down in worried tears, alone. Yet you did not go to him, you did not speak out, you just accepted the High King's command and gathered in the courtyard with any other loved ones wishing the company safe travels.

Yet Elrond just looked at you sadly and lifted his hand in parting before turning to lead his comrades out of Lindon.

You shed a single tear as High King Gil-galad was felt at your flank, slowly entering your peripheral. "They have passed out of my sight," you informed him, voice trembling.

"I know of the strife between you and Commander Elrond..." the King trailed off, "But I would like to commend you for remaining a pillar in your belief. These Rings," he showed his, "are a power and force we do not yet understand in full."

"Perhaps, in time," you agreed, sniffling. "If you would excuse me, my King."

He agreed, letting you go; and all you could do was return to your chambers and throw yourself into your pillows for a good cry. After a single day or moping, you got up and got back to work; working with the other trusted advisors to devise battle strategies, evacuation plans, and whatever else you could do preemptively. You didn't know how long Elrond was gone for because after leaving your chambers, you scarcely saw him - something you suspect was on purpose. All you knew was that he was gone and you missed him.

"Sister!"

You looked up when Tinnriel, or Tinnie, rushed into the council room. "What's wrong?" You asked in alarm, straightening up to take her in arms.

"I-I saw - I saw Elrond - he's on his way here - "

"Slow down," you pleaded.

"Something's wrong!" She sneered at you, pushing your arms down. "I've been telling you for weeks! But you do not listen! To myself or your husband!"

"Oh, not this again, Tinnie, I've told you - "

"That it is paranoia, yes, I've heard you, but you and Elrond are at odds! That's not my paranoia! You two never feud, he's been gone days and now returns, looking worse for wear!"

"High King, I apologize for my sister's interruption - "

"She's not wrong," Gil-galad muttered, making you pause.

"My King?"

"You are not wrong, Tinnie," He addressed your sister, finding her eyes and holding her hostage by a single look, "for I have felt the darkness, too. There is something amiss, I will agree, but..."

"It is the Rings!" She insisted.

"Oh, not this again!" You snarled, seizing her upper arm. "Out! Now! You will still your tongue before the King!"

"High King!" You heard Elrond calling, rushing down the hall you were surging up. He spoke your name, "Where are you going?"

"To have a word - "

"This is much more important. Trust me, please! With me, now!" He breezed past you, but caught your free arm in his hold - pulling you after him and forcing you to release Tinnie. "High King," Elrond addressed as he lead you back into the room, your younger sister lingering in the doorway to listen, "the Orcs are not in Mordor."

"Elrond, our reports - "

"We've encountered them!" Elrond cut you off, making you silence yourself out of sheer curiosity; not accustomed to seeing him so disheveled and manic... So authoritative. "A legion of them are headed for Eregion." He pulled out Nenya, showing the King, "My wife and Galadriel were right! They were right! You must send the army to Eregion this moment."

Your head bowed in disappointment, wishing beyond wishful thought that you had been gifted with foresight - then you could've seen this, withheld the Elven Armies from marching to Mordor, been better prepared. Elrond noted your silence first, ready to question you, when the High King stiffly informed, "That will not be possible. I have reason to believe that Sauron is the architect of all this."

Choosing his words carefully, Elrond argued slightly, "High King, Eregion is the very jewel of Elvendom. If it were to fall, it would be a mortal blow for all in Middle-earth. You must send aid!"

"Our armies cannot defeat both Adar and Sauron. Not alone."

Something clicked in your mind, straightening up and taking hold of Elrond's arm. You bowed your head in agreement, "Of course, High King, we understand. Allow me the day to catch my husband up on recent events, we might reconvene later - "

"I shall send for you when a decision has been made," Gil-galad waved off, you all but shoving Elrond from the room; almost tripping over Tinnie.

"Go, go, go, just go," you muttered to the two in Sindarin, releasing Elrond's arm - surprise coloring your features when he snatched your hand into his. Yet you did not comment. At the end of the hall, you halted them both, being aware of the stationed guards, keeping your voice low, "Tinnie, go attend to the rest of Commander Elrond's company. I imagine they'll need food, rest, perhaps aid?"

"Camnir was shot with an arrow..." Elrond muttered, "But Galadriel healed him."

"How?" Tinnie squeaked.

"Nenya... I saw it myself..."

You sighed, "Tinnie, please?"

She nodded, "Shall I speak to them?"

"They will want to give their account, please take record for the King," you instructed, Elrond's hand tightening in yours almost unconsciously.

"What're you going to do?"

"Speak with my husband," you sighed.

"No, I mean... If you and Galadriel were right, if the Orcs are marching on Eregion... What're you going to do?"

"We have much to discuss before a decision can be made," Elrond told her, tone hardened, "now, please, Tinnie, go."

Tinnie noticed the darker, deeper baritone to his voice and instantly nodded and scurried away towards the front gates. "How far back did you leave your company?" You asked softly, watching the last of Tinnie's skirts sweep around the corner.

"Far enough. Come," he directed, turning to start down the pathway; leading you towards the quarters you once shared. Yet before you could enter, you reared back; yanking his hand, his concerned expression turning down in gentle aggravation. "What's the matter?" He asked.

"You don't live here anymore."

Elrond heaved a great sigh, turning to you, "Truly? You wish to do this now?"

"For weeks, you've picked arguments. You've been combative, irritable, spiteful. You... You chose a ring over me - "

"That's not true - "

"How would you phrase it then!?"

"I chose ethics! Morality! You chose a Ring of Power, not just a ring!" He barked at you, both cracking under the pressure the Ring had subjected your marriage to.

"And look where it lead! You come storming in, declaring Galadriel and I are right to the High King, and now... Now it sounds as if you still defend your decision!"

"I do."

You shook off his grip, "Then perhaps we might find somewhere more neutral to discuss matters?"

Elrond heaved a sigh, "What's wrong with our rooms - your rooms? What's wrong with your rooms?"

"Exactly that, they're mine. Not ours. It seems, no matter where I look, I am reminded that my husband didn't love me enough - "

"Don't you ever say that again!" Elrond snarled, leering over you; back to a bannister, bending you back slightly as you refused to back down - keeping him in front of you. He was heaving for breath, body trembling; proximity allowing you to count the pores clogged by dirt, blood, and grime. "You may hold all the anger you wish, but never accuse me of something so heinous, impossible, untrue. So unfathomable."

"Then prove me wrong!" You fired back, shoving at his abdomen to force him back a step so you could righten yourself off the bannister. "You proved to me your anger, now prove your love! Your remorse! Show me an apology, do not just say it! You looked at me with such hate, Elrond, and you left our rooms, you left me - over a matter of opinion! Do you know what that felt like? What pain that caused? You swore to me - "

"I know what our vows were!" He snapped, tears tinging his eyes red; the air hot between your mouths as you both seethed in anger. "I know what we promised, but never did I think Sauron would return, let alone offer such threat!"

"I am beginning to think you are angry about something else! Is it Galadriel - "

"It's me!"

You were startled into silence, his voice echoing down the hall as his facial expression turned angry. Elrond turned from you to pace himself in a semi-circle, and for whatever reason, you softly questioned, "Where's your cloak?"

"What?" Elrond scoffed, having created distance that you closed to lay your hand on his bicep.

"Your father's cloak, Elrond, where is it?"

"I do not know - I don't..." His head shook, looking annoyed with himself. So, you sighed and nodded, dropped your hand to his and laced your fingers together before leading him into your quarters. "Don't - "

"Just come in," you nudged his shoulder, encouraging him into the room as you shut the doors and drew all curtains to keep your conversation private. You locked the main doors.

"You rearranged?" He noted, stalking around the room; slotting himself between furniture as he silently judged it all.

"Just trying something new, I can't sleep most nights and need something to occupy my mind," you explained, shutting the balcony doors, too. With a sigh, you spun on the spot and implored, "What did you mean, Elrond, when I questioned what you were angry about and said it's you? Please, talk to me. We did not talk about Nenya, and now..." You sighed deeply.

Elrond seemingly remembered he still had the Ring, looking at it in his flat palm with what you could only describe as terror. His eyes lifted to yours, asking, "Do you have a chain?"

With a nod, you ventured to your personal jewelry box and located a glittering braided chain; approaching him to gently drop it in a coiled pile beside Nenya. His hand shook, hating the feeling of the Ring... So, you gently took his hand to steady it and asked, "Tell me what you meant."

Elrond watched you thread the Ring onto the chain. "You're right, thinking my anger is sourced elsewhere... It's not Galadriel, per se - though, I am angry, for varying reasons. But it's me - I'm angry at myself."

"Why?"

"I did not see..."

You lifted the two ends of the chain slowly to his chest, but when he flinched, you reminded, "Galadriel entrusted it to you, nobody else should keep it." He nodded in acceptance, so, you lifted the necklace again, asking, "What didn't you see, Elrond?"

"Halbrand... While in Eregion, making the Rings, he helped Lord Celebrimbor and I, it was... He was there the whole time... So very present, innocent - feigning a King of Men - "

"Halbrand is Sauron."

"He is," Elrond confirmed, "and I did not see it."

"You are angry Sauron the Deceiver deceived you!?" You gaped, hooking the chain and retracting your arms. "Elrond, do you hear yourself? You are victim, none of you knew!"

"But the Rings - they work! You were right!"

"Elrond - "

"It's why I'm angry," he admitted, "because the Rings work, I've seen it, but also because I did not see Sauron for who he was."

"None of us did," you whispered, seeing the struggle behind his eyes.

"I couldn't protect them, either."

"Who?"

"Well, now, none of us - but Lord Celebrimbor and Galadriel specifically; they were with us, with Sauron. I..." He sighed deeply, "I did not see, now we all suffer - "

"We do not suffer, we are fighting back," you cut him off now, his sad eyes finding yours. "And you, our Commander, because you alone feel responsible for our entire salvation. You will lead us, Elrond," his head shook in refusal, making you insist, "no, listen - hear my words. You will lead our people, command legions of Elves, because you have proven strong and determined enough. Since you realized the truth of Sauron, you have fought tooth and nail for the rest of us - even me, you fought me - to see the truth. We have all been blinded, deceived, and now, we all must fight, but trust that the Rings... With the darkness they bring, they must also bring light - it is not just Sauron alone in them, but you all. Which means, in the grandest scheme, all your good overpowers Sauron's bad - proven by the Light of the Valar returning. By Camnir's rescue."

"I fought..." He whispered, reaching for your face - neither of you moving away, wanting the comfort, "At a time my words were needed most. And now, it's too late."

"It's never too late, Elrond, or have you not been paying attention?" You chortled lightly, sighing as you pet over his tunic; manicured nails gently fiddling with Nenya in admiration as it glimmered in the candlelight. "I... Had an idea I want your opinion on. Born of the High King's decision to send he army to Morodor..."

He nodded, stepping closer so his hand fully caressed your cheek and slid to hold the back of your neck. "Speak it," he whispered, "tell your Commander."

You could not repress the shiver of attraction even if you tried. He leered over you, holding you tenderly, close, pressing you closer as his eyes dared you to lose your train of thought. "We seek help... From the Dwarves, from Prince Durin," you whispered, "for they hold Sauron's Rings, they will need our aid in time - we just need theirs first."

"You would have me go above our King?"

"I would have you lead us, Commander."

Elrond smirked slightly, free arm coiling around your waist to hoist you into his embrace. "Something sounds as if you... Like this new position of mine?"

"It suits you - authority, I mean."

"Oh?"

"Being decisive," you listed as Elrond moved forward, walking you backward, "assertive, argumentative... It's a good look."

"Then are you ready to listen to your Commander?"

"At once, sir."

He paused you, lips hovering over yours; demanding of your ears only, "Strip."

"My Lord - "

"Aht," he tutted, pulling back; leaving you cemented in place.

"Commander," you amended, watching him nod subtly. Slowly, your hands lifted to start unlacing your corset; his eyes dark and concentrated, watching each movement you made. Elrond stood with his shoulders squared, hands clasped in front of him, feet spread apart; ensuring you were operating to his level of completion.

"All of it," he told you when down to your small clothes; pausing your venture onto the bed behind you.

So, you stripped those off, too. He nodded in approval, watching you teasingly turn to crawl onto the bed and settle in the middle of the mattress - facing him. Elrond's eyes locked with yours, only straying when your legs slowly spread to reveal your sweetest point for his viewing pleasure. His shoulders heaved upward as he drew in breath, lifting his chin, eyes darting around to note the speckling of honey collecting between your legs.

"Touch yourself," Elrond demanded, reaching for his weapons belt and unhooking it.

"Where, Commander?"

He smirked and simply repeated, "Touch. Yourself. If you can't take direction..."

You didn't question him again, watching him slowly unlatch the belts and hooks of his uniform; deft fingers rubbing through your wetness as others came up to pinch your nipple and roll the bud. Elrond shed his boots, discarding them to the side; tunics yanked from his bare torso, leaving the glittering jewelry around his neck. A moan escaped as you dipped your fingers within your cunt as Elrond ripped his trousers open - then paused. He admired the sight of you splayed out, both hands at work, watching him undress.

In Sindarin, Elrond questioned, "Are we still at odds, my starlight?"

You whined, replying, "If you're not inside me in the next minute, Commander, we will be."

Elrond chuckled and shucked his trousers from his hips, down his thighs, then stepping out of them. "Do you forgive me, my star?"

"Nothing to forgive."

"Don't feed me that," he reprimanded, stepping up to mount the bed; his own hand beginning to fondle his reddening cock, stroking himself to straining life. "I have wronged you and your Commander intends to show he is remorseful. Tell him how."

"Move back in," you pleaded, reaching for him as he allowed himself to hover over you, "and do not leave me - not again."

His breath exhaled against your lips, settling to lay against you while a single leg bent to secure his hips on yours. "Never," Elrond agreed, "but I'll need to hear you say it."

"Is that a command?"

Elrond smirked and lined himself up to notch his cockhead at your cunt's mouth; sinking in as he answered, "Of course, it is." You gasped and slapped a hand up to hold his flushing neck, mouth wide at the familiar sting; public hair grinding together as his balls pinned between you, cock fully sheathed. "You've been given a command, my star," he grunted in your ear, "don't disappoint your Commander now."

Like all Elves, your ears had increased sensitivity; creating a legion of goose flesh to shoot across your flesh. Without breath, you affirmed in his ear, "I-I forgive you - fuck - I forgive you, my love. Don't leave me," you whimpered, "and I forgive you."

"What side do you remain?"

You whined, "Yours, yours, my husband, I remain on your side, Commander."

"And will you obey your Commander?"

"Until the end," you nodded, his lips finally findings yours. A sharp whimper ripped from your lungs as Elrond retracted his hips, thrusting into you at his own set, even pace; lips messily sliding against each other from tongues and spit. "You were gone too long," you managed to whisper.

"We won't be apart that long again," he grit, grunting as he held your thigh in a bruising-grip, "I swear it - "

"You can't - "

"I swear it," he gnashed your bottom lip between his teeth, making you gasp in pain and shock before moaning when he suckled at the mark. Softly, he released your lips, whispering, "I promise, we won't be. We go together from now on."

Nenya dangled between you, tracing around your chest from his aggressive thrusting; you agreeing with a nod, "Together."

"Now," Elrond grunted, "'M not gonna last, pet, gonna need you t'cum with me - together."

"Yes, Commander," you moaned, seeing the way his eyes fluttered; cheeks, neck, and ears blushing bright as his orgasm mounted, trying in vain to hold back. Seeing the almost involuntary reaction your words caused, your hand found Elrond's cheek and directed his eyes to yours, encouraging, "I'm so close, Commander, you make me feel so good, so full, it's been so long - too long! I'm right there, my love, my Commander, please - "

"Ah," Elrond hissed through his teeth, "yes, love, I'm there, too; right there, right there - "

"Cum in me... That's a command, Commander," you demanded in his ear, and it was all that was wrote. Elrond bucked wildly his last few thrusts, pinning you to the mattress; your own orgasm triggered by the flooding of warmth filling your too-empty womb.

"O-Oh," he stuttered, humping into you in languid thrusts before slowing to a shivering halt. You watched Elrond try to regulate his breathing, wrapping your arms around him in an instant to bring him in close; resting him on your chest while your one arm wrapped around him, the other threading into his curls. "I love you," he whispered into your flesh.

"I love you, too," you affirmed. Then, while toying with the sweat-curled ringlets of his hair, you mused softly, "You need a cut."

"You told me for years to grow it out, now you want me to cut it?"

"No, I don't want you to; I just know, you prefer a cleaner crop."

"I've... Grown fond of the look."

You smirked, "That is relieving to hear."

Elrond sighed and slowly lifted off you; only enough to help maneuver you so he didn't have to pullout of your cunt but could still hold you as the big spoon. "So... Prince Durin, is it?" He asked in your ear.

You smirked, "Why not? He is a friend, his father wields a Ring of Power... He would more incentive to help than others. And the Dwarves are formidable in battle, it could help turn the tides, by uniting the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. Elf, Dwarf, Man..."

"What alliance of Men would - "

"We do not speak of Men, we speak of Prince Durin," you reminded him; his face nuzzling into your neck. "I think you should go in person. To plead the severity of our situation, how dire the need for aid is. To convey our desperation."

"The High King - "

"Leave him to me," you insisted, holding his arms around you. "I know we just agreed to not part ways, but you need to parlay with Prince Durin and I will keep Gil-galad at bay. When Durin agrees to march to our aid in Eregion, we march our remaining forces against Adar and meet the Dwarves on the field."

"It sounds good..."

"But?"

"Is it possible?"

"We will have to work in tandem, but I would assume the King would not argue asking for aid. I'll inform him of your departure and intention after you've left."

His arms tightened, "We can speak of it more later. I just want to feel you in my arms - it's been too long."

"You will hear no such complaints from me."

After a moment, where you both spent it resettling and nuzzling into the peaceful silence, Elrond asked, "Do you... Do you think one of the company managed to find and grab my cloak?"

In amusement, you replied, "Oh, I'm sure."

"And that Tinnie would have it?"

"Knowing her, by now, surely," you mused, reaching up to pet his cheek; requesting, "now, I have gone too long without the feeling of you beside me and wish to rest."

"As you command, my love."

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