#nothing against him as a person & respect for him for singing with his own voice but he's also not the reason im listening to this song

[frost0wl]

I know it's only march but I've been listening to the Eurovision-movie song (Double Trouble) so much already & I'm NOT ready for Will Ferrell to be in my next Spotify wrapped 💀💀💀

[jolyfics]

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙨𝙚𝙚

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

summary: trish has just met up with your gang, being the only other girl her age, you try and connect to her

notes: first fic on here is done!! feel free to send requests in, they’re open right now!!

you and the rest of your gang were at the grape vineyard base, bucciarati had given orders for narancia to go out and buy what trish had requested earlier. you were sitting on the stairs alongside abbacchio and giorno, watching fugo try and get it into narancias brain how important this was. you sighed, you weren’t exactly paying attention to what they were talking about. if anything they were too loud, distracting you from your train of thought. thats when you heard footsteps come from the top of the stairs, you ignored them, assuming that they’d be from mista.

“(name)?” bucciarati spoke out, causing you to whip your head around to look at him. you then stood up, to show respect towards him.

“yes, bucciarati?” you asked, you had absolutely no idea to what he would want from you, you thought that all you had to do was stay here with abbacchio, giorno and fugo and protect the base.

“come with me, please” his voice had a hint of hastiness lying within it. you nodded as he began to walk back up the stairs, you followed in suit. mista was gone, you assumed he went to the bathroom or something? bucciarati then stopped, turning his head towards you.

“i need you to be trish’s personal guard, (name). i want you to be by her side at all times.” his voice was serious, his eyebrows were ever so slightly furrowed, he didn’t look angry though, just earnest.

“..okay” you spoke, you wouldn’t dare go against bucciaratis orders. he glanced at the door of the room trish was in. he was signalling you to go in now, to speak with her. you nodded. understanding what he wished of you. you walked up to the door and twisted the doorknob. trish sat by the window, looking longingly outside. you thought she looked breathtaking right now. how her pink hair only seemed brighter in the sun, her blue eyes shining, but they also looked sad, how you wished to know what she was thinking about right now.

you stepped further into the room, silently closing the door behind you. trish still hadn’t noticed your arrival into the room. she seemed to be lost in thought, no wonder, given the situation she’s in. you gave a small forced cough so she could notice you. immediately her head snapped around towards you, a small hint of fear in her face.

“when did you get here?” she asked, you hadn’t actually heard much of her voice yet, only the demands she spat at everyone when you two first met.

”a few seconds ago” you responded, too quickly for your own liking. something about her mesmerised you, it pulled you in towards her. she gave a small hum as she turned back to the window. it seemed she didn’t know what to say next. for all she knew you two had nothing in common. you had to find a neutral ground.

“so.. what are you into trish?” you spoke up again, she turned her head to face you once more, this time slower. she thought for a few seconds. in those seconds you only felt more embarrassed, what if you said that and she just shrugs and turns back around?

“i like fashion. and singing..” she mumbled the last part, avoiding your gaze. you sighed in relief. fashion, you knew a good amount about fashion, you would go as far to say buying clothes was a leisurely activity for you.

“fashion? what kind of fashion do you like?” you asked her, you were interested in her, obviously. though you noticed the way her head perked up when you asked her what she liked. she smiled slightly

“valentino, or gucci. though i like prada too. how about you?” she seemed interested in this conversation, yes! you did it! before you could give yourself a pat on the back, you had to answer her question

“vivienne westwood. definitely!” you grinned, happy to talk about one of, if not your favourite designers. trish smiled at your enthusiasm.

“really? i like some of vivienne, though im not too into punk fashion” she responded, hearing her talk so freely made you smile too. you moved over towards the window, sitting beside her. you could see all her features now, god was she pretty

after what felt like hours, the sun had begun to set. you had no idea if narancia was back or not, though right now you didn’t care. you and trish seemed to be having the time of your lives talking about fashion, the conversation even strayed towards giving eachother makeovers. at first you wondered why bucciarati picked you to be trish’s personal guard, you understood now.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a request (WHEN YOUR NOT BUSY) about prince nuada where he meets the reader at the station when the fighting is over and she’s like a beast tamer humming lullabies to tooth fairies and other dangerous things like that?? ☺️❤️

Hello! I'm not sure what sort of theme you wanted, so I stuck to a soft/fluff/kind of angsty at the begining enemies to possible lovers theme. I hope you like it.

The beast tamer and the prince

Pairing: Nuada x Fem. Reader (Parts human and elf | Beast tamer)

Word count: 823 words

Themes : Some angst, maybe | Soft | Fluff | Enemies to lovers

Warnings : None

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

If you like this, please consider giving it a reblog. Thank you!

p.s. the bit with the wife and tea and biscuits was inspired by a scene between Sheldon and Penny, on The Big Bang Theory. 

Nuada returns to his palace in an abandoned station after a brutal few weeks, helping Hellboy and the BPRD fight and defeat Nimue, the Blood Queen.

He’s completely exhausted, lost to the world, and not paying any attention to what is happening around him. Due to this, he misses the baby tooth fairies trailing him, looking for their first meal. Only when they take off and come after him does Nuada realize he’s been targeted as prey. He whips out his spear, ready to defend himself.   Except that nothing happens, save for someone singing in a language Nuada has not heard in over nine millennia. As this eerie, otherworldly tune floats through the tunnels, Nuada looks around, his ears twitching. The tooth fairies looked dazed, not moving, barely even breathing. It was as if they were hypnotized. When he demanded you show yourself, you do, armed with only a strange flute and your own voice.

He discovers you are half mortal and half elf, a descendant of a long-forgotten line of beast tamers who once worked for King Balor. Nuada is shocked, as everyone thought your clan was wiped out by the great wars of seven thousand BC, when the Golden Army marched against the armies of men. The tattoos on the inside of your right forearm showed otherwise, as only those who have proven their gifts to the clan elders could receive such tattoos.

Despite his reservations, Nuada assists you in capturing the tooth fairies and transporting them to an off-realm reserve where they will not harm anyone. He asks you to live with him as royal etiquette decreed such an invitation, as repayment for saving his life. 

The giant troll lives with him, Mr. Wink, takes to you in a heartbeat. Nuada, on the other hand, keeps you at arm's length. He is cold and aloof, as is his personality, and always high prince to everyone else. And he insists on being treated as such.

This infuriates you, and the two of you constantly butt heads and trade insults.  Usually, these insults revolve around epithets such as prig from your end, and wasp-tongued-viper from his end. Even after the two of you cooled off with the insults, bickering would follow whenever you were together. Quests to capture another beast or creature on behalf of the BPRD would always end up with the two of you bickering like an old married couple. At least, that's what Abe believes.

"If we were married," Nuada would say, "The wife would bring me tea and biscuits in the evening."

"You hate my tea," you'd retort. "And we have no biscuits."

"My wife would keep them on hand."

"Your wife demands a divorce."

"Wonderful," Nuada would say without missing a beat. "On the way back from the temple, could you stop by the troll market and pick up some Bethmoran rose biscuits for my afternoon tea?"

Epic huffs and eye-rolls will abound. Hellboy would ask if the two of you needed a room. Nuada would shiver in horror. You'd look at Hellboy like he had grown another head. The two of you would skulk off in different directions. 

In time, however, mutual respect blooms between the two of you. 

Nuada comes to appreciate your skills, for it means children of the old gods no longer have to be killed unless absolutely necessary. He starts fighting in your corner during BPRD meetings, backing you up against Manning and his orders. 

You come to respect Nuada's love for his family and his people, his willingness to go to great lengths to protect them and keep them safe.

The two of you have saved each other's lives more times than either of you can count.

Nuada comes to find your nicknames for mythical creatures all rather amusing. 

Tooth fairies you call: Teethcinerators. 

And dragons are called: Winged fire breathing danger noodles. 

Unicorns, on the other hand, end up being called: Rage ponies, given their violent and unpredictable nature. 

These nicknames end up being used by him and many others at the BPRD, much to Manning's eternal frustration.

You teach Nuada how to charm animals just by using his voice. He tries it on Mr. Wink. Mr. Wink ends up in a trance for two days, and you go through every book you have to get him out of it. 

Mr. Wink was naturally unhappy about it, and complained about it for weeks.

You realize Nuada has the most beautiful voice you have ever heard, and you come up with every conceivable excuse to get him to sing.

Nuada catches on to your tricks but finds them all rather endearing. 

"If you just want to hear me sing, y/n, you need only ask."

You go red in the face and flee his presence. 

Nuada decides to talk to his father about you.

King Balor approves, and insists on meeting the person who brought about such positive changes in his son. 

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Okay, I'm sorry, but I gotta know. Not now, but one day off into the distant future perhaps.

What do you think would deeply touch or even just fluster (in a good way) each of the Dorfs? (Because I'm an obsessed romantic. I own up to my flaws.)

Just something that would get each of them to go all moony-eyed & think to himself, "I'm going to make this woman my queen."

Like, obviously, each one would be different, but I'm just very curious.

Ooo thats a good question! To be honest, I don't see any of the dorfs really getting moony eyed or flustered just because of the core personality of Ganondorfs (they too stony, grumpy, and harsh tbh)

-though I do see Windwaker Ganondorf being softer, maybe a hidden romantic himself. He's got that melancholic, sad old man vibes. He would totally get soft for someone who would tell stories of old Hyrule, perhaps if he saw them make an old recipe or hand make a cloth with symbols of the Gerudo. It would make him imagine a more romantic life with them. I did ask ChatGPT however and here is what they came up with:

Given the different personalities of the Ganondorfs from "The Legend of Zelda" series, each would be deeply touched or flustered by specific actions or qualities that align with their individual characteristics. Here’s what might make each Ganondorf go all moony-eyed and determined to make the woman his queen:

Ganondorf from "The Wind Waker"

Reflective and Melancholic:

Deep Connection: Sharing a moment of deep introspection about their lives, dreams, and the hardships they've faced would touch him profoundly. If she demonstrates a genuine understanding of his melancholic nature and offers comfort without judgment, it would mean a lot to him.

Cultural Appreciation: If she shows a heartfelt appreciation for Gerudo culture and history, perhaps by performing a traditional Gerudo dance or singing an ancient song, it would deeply move him.

Moment: One evening, she softly sings a Gerudo lullaby, a song from his homeland, while looking out over the ocean with him. Her voice, filled with emotion and understanding, would make him realize how much she means to him.

Quote: "In a world filled with darkness, you bring a light I never thought I'd see again. You are the queen I never knew I needed."

Ganondorf from "Ocarina of Time"

Proud and Domineering:

Unwavering Loyalty: Demonstrating unwavering loyalty in a moment of crisis, where she stands by his side against all odds and without hesitation, would deeply touch him. Her ability to match his strength and determination would make him see her as his equal.

Recognition of His Power: If she openly admires his power and ambitions, expressing a desire to rule alongside him and help him achieve his goals, it would appeal to his pride.

Moment: During a fierce battle, she fights valiantly beside him, taking down enemies with unmatched skill. Afterwards, she looks at him with fierce determination and says, "Together, there's nothing we can't conquer."

Quote: "In you, I see my equal, my partner in conquest. With you by my side, I am unstoppable. You shall be my queen."

Ganondorf from "Twilight Princess"

Ruthless and Calculating:

Strategic Brilliance: Demonstrating a keen strategic mind and coming up with a plan that outsmarts their enemies in a critical moment would earn his respect and admiration. Her ability to see through complex situations and provide insightful solutions would touch him deeply.

Shared Ambitions: If she articulates a shared vision for their future, showing that her ambitions align with his, and that she is willing to be as ruthless as necessary to achieve them, it would impress him greatly.

Moment: During a council meeting, she presents a brilliant strategy that turns the tide of a looming conflict, impressing all present. Later, in private, she looks into his eyes and says, "Together, we can achieve anything. I believe in our shared destiny."

Quote: "Your mind is as sharp as your blade. With you, I see a future where we can achieve greatness. You will be my queen, and we will shape the world together."

Ganondorf from "Hyrule Warriors"

Aggressive and Assertive:

Warrior Spirit: Showing incredible bravery and skill in battle, fighting alongside him with fierce determination, would touch him deeply. Her ability to hold her own and even save him in a critical moment would earn his admiration.

Boldness and Confidence: If she boldly declares her intentions and admiration for him, displaying confidence and a strong will, it would resonate with his assertive nature.

Moment: In the heat of battle, she saves him from an ambush, standing back-to-back with him as they fend off enemies together. After the fight, she looks him in the eye, with a confident smile, and says, "Together, we're unstoppable."

Quote: "Your strength and bravery match my own. You fight with the heart of a true warrior. You shall be my queen, and together, we will conquer all."

Summary

Wind Waker Ganondorf: Deeply touched by cultural appreciation and emotional understanding, making him realize her unique value.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf: Flustered by unwavering loyalty and shared ambitions, seeing her as his equal in power and determination.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf: Impressed by strategic brilliance and shared ruthless ambitions, recognizing her as a key ally in achieving greatness.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf: Admiring boldness and warrior spirit, appreciating her bravery and strength in battle as a perfect match for his own.

Each Ganondorf’s reaction reflects his personality, emphasizing what would touch him deeply and make him see the woman as his queen, combining admiration, strategic thinking, and the inherent challenges of dealing with a partner who matches his power and intelligence.

[radioiaci]

anonymous ⧐ Outside Alastor's balcony, the air was filled with a melody so enchanting it could only be compared to the voice of a siren, singing with an otherworldly grace. The music drifted through the night, each note creating something new and ephemeral in the darkness. A cloud, soft and fluffy yet seemingly composed of pure sound, floated gently along with the song, capturing the essence of an almost perfect summertime serenade. This melodic cloud finally came to rest on the cold stone floor of Alastor’s balcony, curling up like a loyal pet awaiting its master’s touch. Atop the cloud sat a small black box, adorned with a striking red bow, standing out against the misty surroundings. Inside the box lay a tuxedo of the deepest black, accented with rich, reddish details. The long tailcoat and the small beret, crafted with precision and care, had been designed with holes to accommodate Alastor’s antlers. The red details seemed to dance like mist on the surface of the fabric, adding an almost supernatural quality to the garment, a testament to the skill of its creator. Beside the box, a modest note, written in delicate and careful handwriting, awaited his discovery, the final touch to this mysterious and thoughtful gift. ꒰ ❛ Dearest Radio demon, I extend my most sincere apologies for the veiled nature of my presence, choosing to remain concealed rather than making a proper introduction as I present you with this humble offering. It weighs heavily upon me, for I am acutely aware of the meticulousness of my own powers, particularly when it comes to matters of sound—a realm in which I know you, too, excel with the mastery of your radio tower. I wish to assure you that I shall exercise the utmost restraint in the use of my abilities when your melodies and, yes, even your screams grace the airwaves. It would be an unforgivable offense to mar the artistry that has brought me solace on days when the weight of sorrow threatened to overwhelm. With the deepest respect and warmest regards, Scarlet Fox ❜ ꒱ UNPROMPTED ASKS.

Alastor is no stranger to receiving fanmail, though admittedly, most of it is delivered by Niffty to the tower before any of it can make its way to his more private balcony. The way that the strange cloud begins to course its way towards him, blanketed in that ominous sound of song that make his ears give a few agitated flicks with the stimulation is nothing he's seen before. But he supposes there is a first time for everything. Sinners often have new, unheard of abilities and means of asserting their personalities among a sea of other unremarkable ne'er-do-wells.

His eyes drift down to the thing as it lands, that little box atop which immediately makes him suspicious. One of his puppet-like minions is brought forth as a scape goat to investigate it - to ensure that there is no nasty explosive surprise awaiting him inside (he will not put it beneath someone to make an attempt on his life in such a way) - but when the small creature does not seem to immediately combust at the opening of the box, Alastor steps forth to investigate it himself.

Clothing is not on the list of things he has received before. At least not... clothing that is clearly tailored for he himself. His immediate suspicion is that it is imbued with some sort of magic - and thus, he is not quick to put it on. But he can admit, to himself if nowhere else, that the tailoring of the thing is nice.

The puppet-minion offers him the note next, Alastor's claws taking it with interest as he unfolds it and reads the scrawl within.

It raises more questions than it answers, unfortunately. He is not familiar with any such individual named "Scarlet Fox". It does not even ping on his radar that anyone has been adequate enough to interfere with his broadcasts when he does see fit to perform them. And while said 'screams' that he is known for have been much lesser, as of late, given his prioritization of the hotel itself, he cannot think of a time when they have been interfered with...

Hm. Curiosity piqued.

The note is folded and placed within the box that is closed. Alastor is not so naïve as to think that the gift is made with altruistic intent. But there have been stranger items delivered to him, he supposes.

It will be stashed, for now. Until he can further investigate the motivation behind it.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for june 21 of 2024 with Proverbs 21 and Psalm 21, accompanied by Psalm 2 for the 2nd day of Astronomical Summer, and Psalm 23 for day 173 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 21]

The king’s heart is like a channel of water directed by the Eternal:

He chooses which way He bends it.

Everyone may think his own way of living is right,

but the Eternal examines our hearts.

To do what is right and to seek justice—

these please Him more than sacrifice.

The lamp of the wicked lights his way;

a proud look, an arrogant heart—all sin.

A well-thought-out plan will work to your advantage,

but hasty actions will cost you dearly.

The fortune made by a swindler

is a fast-burning fog and a recipe for death.

Wicked people will be swept up in their own violence

because they refuse to seek justice.

Dishonest people walk along the crooked path they have made,

but the innocent travel the straight course they have laid.

It is better to dwell outside on the corner of your roof

than to live inside your house with a badgering wife.

Wicked people delight in doing bad things;

their neighbors never see even a hint of compassion.

A naive person wises up when he sees a mocker punished.

A wise person becomes even wiser just by being instructed.

The right-living understands how evildoers operate;

he subverts them and ruins their plans.

If you ignore the groans of the poor,

one day your own cries for help will go unanswered.

A gift given in secret soothes anger,

and a present offered privately calms fierce rage.

When justice is done, those who are in the right celebrate,

but those who make trouble are terrified.

People who wander from the way of wise living

will lie down in the company of corpses.

Those who live to party, who pursue pleasure, will end up penniless;

those who enjoy lots of wine and rich food will never have money.

The wicked become a ransom for those who live right,

and the faithless pay the penalty for their treachery against the upright.

You would be better off living in the middle of the desert

than with an angry and argumentative wife.

The wise have a generous supply of fine food and oil in their homes,

but fools are wasteful, consuming every last drop.

Whoever pursues justice and treats others with kindness

discovers true life marked by integrity and respect.

One wise person can rise against a city of mighty men

and cause the citadel they trust to collapse.

Guard your words, mind what you say,

and you will keep yourself out of trouble.

The name “mocker” applies to one who is proud and pompous

because he is defiantly arrogant.

What slackers crave will surely kill them

because they refuse to work.

All day, every day the greedy want more,

while those who live right give generously.

The offerings of wrongdoers are despicable to God;

it’s even worse when they bring them with evil motives.

The testimony of a false witness is eventually impeached,

but the person who truly listens will have the last word.

The wicked wears a defiant face,

but the right-living plans his path.

No one is wise enough or smart enough,

and no plan is good enough to stand up to the Eternal.

No matter how well you arm for battle,

victory is determined by Him.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 21 (The Voice)

[Psalm 21]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

The king is glad because You, O Eternal, are strong.

In light of Your salvation, he is singing Your name.

You have given him all he could wish for.

After hearing his prayer, You withheld nothing.

[pause]

True blessings You lavished upon the king;

a crown of precious gold You placed upon his head.

His prayer was to live fully. You responded with even more—

a never-ending life to enjoy.

With Your help, his fame and glory have grown;

You raise him high and cover him in majesty.

You shower him with blessings that last forever;

he finds joy in knowing Your presence and loving You.

For the king puts his trust in the Eternal,

so he will not be shaken

because of the persistent love of the Most High God.

King, your hand will reach for all your enemies;

your right hand will seize all who hate you.

When you arrive at the battle’s edge,

you will seem to them a furnace.

For the fire of the Eternal’s anger, the heat of His wrath

will burn and consume them.

You will cut off their children,

lop off the branches of their family tree.

The earth will never know them,

nor will they ever be numbered among Adam’s kin.

When they scheme against you,

when they conspire their mischief, such efforts will be in vain.

At the sight of you, they will sound the retreat;

your bows, drawn back, will aim directly at their faces.

Put Your strength, Eternal One, on display for all to see;

we will sing and make music of Your mighty power.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 21 (The Voice)

[Psalm 2]

You are wondering: What has provoked the nations to embrace anger and chaos?

Why are the people making plans to pursue their own vacant and empty greatness?

Leaders of nations stand united;

rulers put their heads together,

plotting against the Eternal One and His Anointed King, trying to figure out

How they can throw off the gentle reign of God’s love,

step out from under the restrictions of His claims to advance their own schemes.

At first, the Power of heaven laughs at their silliness.

The Eternal mocks their ignorant selfishness.

But His laughter turns to rage, and He rebukes them.

As God displays His righteous anger, they begin to know the meaning of fear. He says,

“I am the One who appointed My king who reigns from Zion, My mount of holiness.

He is the one in charge.”

I am telling all of you the truth. I have heard the Eternal’s decree.

He said clearly to me, “You are My son.

Today I have become your Father.

The nations shall be yours for the asking,

and the entire earth will belong to you.

They are yours to crush with an iron scepter,

yours to shatter like fragile, clay pots.”

So leaders, kings, and judges,

be wise, and be warned.

There is only one God, the Eternal;

worship Him with respect and awe;

take delight in Him and tremble.

Bow down before God’s son.

If you don’t, you will face His anger and retribution,

And you won’t stand a chance.

For it doesn’t take long to kindle royal wrath,

But blessings await all who trust in Him.

They will find God a gentle refuge.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 2 (The Voice)

[Psalm 23]

The Lord the Shepherd

A psalm of David.

The Lord is my shepherd;

I have everything I need.

He lets me rest in green pastures.

He leads me to calm water.

He gives me new strength.

He leads me on paths that are right

for the good of his name.

Even if I walk through a very dark valley,

I will not be afraid,

because you are with me.

Your rod and your shepherd’s staff comfort me.

You prepare a meal for me

in front of my enemies.

You pour oil of blessing on my head;

you fill my cup to overflowing.

Surely your goodness and love will be with me

all my life,

and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 23 (New Century Version)

[thesinglesjukebox]

NOAH KAHAN - "STICK SEASON"

Just to be clear, this post was *not* sponsored by the Vermont Tourism Board... [5.10]

Hannah Jocelyn: Noah Kahan snuck up on me -- I first wondered why Ruston Kelly was opening for this guy who I'd never heard of before. I heard a couple of his songs, they were fine! So I ignored him. Suddenly, last year, a friend (a songwriter herself) was complaining about him, asking "What does the 'season of the sticks' even MEAN?" And from then on, he was everywhere, the same way Ed Sheeran was genuinely grassroots a decade ago before he became the eldritch pop horror he is now. Sheeran and Mumford & Sons ultimately gave us the indie folk of Boygenius and co., as well as Taylor Swift's own forays into indie, all of which I either love or respect. I go to open mics and concerts often, and it's a lot of empowered non-men leading the charge; even the guys I see make more interesting music than "I'm so sad, I'm so fucked up."  And now the pendulum's swinging, so now we are back at WGWAGs, and they don't even have the slick production of the Mumfords. I am not afraid of Noah Kahan; this song just sounds like the banality of fuckboys. I am more afraid of everyone following in his footsteps. Bonus point for actually mentioning COVID, though. [5]

Jacob Satter: Back when they were riding the wave of stardom for the first time, I bought tickets to see Counting Crows and a pre-dreadlocked Adam Duritz was going through it. He spent most of the show baffling the audience by lying flat on his back at center stage, talk-singing his way through August and Everything After, genuinely unable to look success in the eye. I take this trip down memory lane to clarify that when I say that every generation gets the self-actualizing folk dorkery it deserves, I'm not exculpating X while side-eying any COVID-worn millennials who embrace Mr. More-Mumford-Than-Mumford here for their mental balm. [3]

Dave Moore: I can google "is Noah Kahan related to Marcus Mumford" (no) but I can't google "do I hate Mumford and Sons" because despite remembering making fun of and claiming I hated Mumford and Sons at the time, I never wrote anything about them. Now that nothing else really sounds like this, I don't mind it so much. [6]

Leah Isobel: At least Mumford & Sons had the showmanship to drop an f-bomb in the midst of their self-regarding self-flagellation. What does Noah have? The word al-co-hol, leaden and imprecise and sung like it's an unbelievable blasphemy? Grow some balls, dude. [3]

Alfred Soto: He's so earnest that he acknowledges a drinkin' problem and the existence of COVID-19 and must sing as if he wants Mike Posner to sell him a pill to take in Vermont. [3]

Thomas Inskeep: His voice just oozes earnestness, and no, that's not a good thing. But strummy guitar guys never entirely go out of style, do they? If his success makes a Lumineers comeback happen, I swear to God… [3]

Lauren Gilbert: Yes, I could write a snarky review that this is a song for girls who haven't yet left their Folklore era.  And that's true enough; it's a pretty standard folk pop, with too many words pressed into too few lines, the murmurings of someone who spends entirely too much time in their head.  But it's also a pretty good instance of the form.  It has more of a hook than Bridgers, and it's less likely to put me to sleep than Clairo.  And it does feel like the season of the sticks -- like driving my parents' car through the hills of Virginia, dark, leafless trees silhouetted against a grey, featureless sky, thinking only of the person not sitting in the passenger seat. [7]

Mark Sinker: What if “season of the sticks” but it’s good not bad? (It’s such a gorgeous phrase to attempt to use as a negative… ) Plus Noah’s breath control seems kind of terrible -- the snatch at air plus his kinda squeaky voice makes him seem way younger than he even is (which is already way young), and sorry teens but that really dilutes the resigned agony he’s going for here. [6]

Taylor Alatorre: "I've been called the Jewish Ed Sheeran," says Noah Kahan on stage, with apparent regularity. Cheap heat, sure, but it's also self-deprecation as brand-building, aimed at propping up a certain persona by playfully prodding at the weaker and more exposed parts of it -- and suddenly I'm not just describing the stage banter but also the music itself. Kahan spent much of the last year collecting enough guest artist remixes for an unplugged No.6 Collaborations Project, but one of the few Stick Season songs to remain untouched by this process was the title track, which says something about it. It says that this is the anthem, the legacy definer; this is his own private Vermont, and no one but him (and a sold-out arena crowd, inshallah) can ever do it justice. With some reservations, it's deserving of this pedestal. And no, those reservations have not the slightest to do with Mumford & Sons, who are overdue to be treated as a normal, middling rock band and not a portentous class enemy. When teenage Mumford fans were listening to "Hopeless Wanderer" back in 2012, I imagine many of them were playing in their heads the kind of diaristic scenarios that Kahan sings about here, replacing grandiose Biblical allusions with only slightly less grandiose relationship angst. That was always the correct reading, and one can't fault Kahan for opting to cut out the middleman between his and his audience's experiences. "COVID on the planes" is the line that most loudly announces this isn't your father's indie folk, and it's the kind of lyric whose currency will only grow with time, like the transistor radio in "Brown Eyed Girl" or the satellite radio in "Sequestered in Memphis." At the other end of the realist-romantic spectrum, there's "might not have but I did not lose," a waist-deep k?an that's perfectly befitting of a future dorm room staple. Also fitting the dorm room vibe, less fortunately, is the way the phrasing in the chorus is awkwardly chopped up so as to min-max its drunk singalong value, with the line about alcohol of course being the worst offender. It's a testament to Kahan's affability that I want to forgive his more sophomoric tics -- I mean, who wants to be the one to interrupt a drunk singalong? [7]

Nortey Dowuona: When did Noah Kahan develop talent, and why wasn't it with Joel Little? [9]

Joshua Lu: "Stick Season" starts off as a earnestly mopey torch song, with a steady stream of metaphors and rhymes about his post-breakup blues. The causes and effects of this despair are presented straightforwardly, earning an almost comical feeling: the mom forgetting about him entirely, the excessive drug and alcohol use, his victim complex. It's in the second verse, though, that the song takes an interesting turn into self-reflection: "So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad / That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad." That same chorus rings differently in this new light, creating an image of a once-fixed man who has returned to his broken default nature, and whose internal sadness was only buried, not cured, by being with the one he loved. There's something quietly devastating about how resigned he is to his fate -- how he knows that he can't heal his pain, only dampen it with the memory of a time when he couldn't feel it. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: A [2] or an [8] depending on how much this alerts your anti-Mumford and Sons or anti-Lewis Capaldi radar, and whether or not you have a soft spot for self-deprecating white men telling jokes and making confessions at their own expense. We’ll skew higher since this has aged surprisingly well. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I’ve heard this around seven times and I’m not exactly sure what he’s singing about, but I like the texture of his words as they spill out of his mouth. Kahan will let a syllable last just a bit longer or shorter than I expect, all while singing fast enough that he feels like he’s uninterested in easy signifiers of the contemplative. The banjo feels like a cheap way to keep the song interesting; he doesn’t need it when every guitar strum is so propulsive. [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Loses me after that banjo riff comes in two thirds of the way through. Everything before that is charmingly middling, everything after makes me want to place the entirety of New England under cordon sanitaire. [2]

Will Rivitz: I also love Vermont, having grown up just outside of Boston, and have to admit Kahan's bitter and self-deprecating narcissism quite poignantly encapsulates the sense of drifting listlessly and peevishly through New England's dreary December, mired in one's own solitude and the inexorably self-centered trappings that accompany it. His lyrical acumen is, however, not quite sharp enough to justify exhuming the stomp clap hey brouhaha previously left to rot alongside the word "hipster" a decade ago. If he thinks it appropriate to hire a mandolinist, maybe you were right to break up with him. [4]

Rachel Saywitz: “Stick Season” is a haunting masterpiece, and a triumph for Noah Kahan -- with just a folkloric guitar, illuminating banjo, and a steady kick drum, he traces a love lost with a traveler’s bent and a timeless seasonal metaphor. Wait, this song takes place in Vermont? Wait, he’s American? I can feel the spell breaking, the cloudy haze over my eyes that always appears when I’m listening to mediocre folk-pop by European singers is dissipating. Okay, sorry. Back to normal now. Going to review this again. “Stick Season” is some Lumineers-ass sounding shit. Grow up, stop being a whiny lovesick boy, and pick up an English accent! [4]

Ian Mathers: I'm so pissed that 1. "stick season" is not a reference to hockey which part of my brain irrationally insisted it was; 2. this tweet no longer applies to me. I gave that up for something that's just deeply mediocre, not even entertainingly bad. That the Olivia Rodrigo cover is… fine indicates my problem is less with the song (not bad, kinda standard) and more with Kahan's excruciating indie folk dude presentation. [4]

Will Adams: Outside of a terribly dull EDM feature, I had not heard a single note of Noah Kahan's music until now, so every time I saw his name I would think, "Oh, he does that one song, like 'lady, running down to the riptide, da-da-da'" before correcting myself. Listening to "Stick Season," I wasn't far off: anodyne stomp-clap folk complete with banjo. Instead of a rousing singalong, however, we get a winter doldrum mope-fest where the more a clever line is repeated, the less clever it seems. [4]

Katherine St. Asaph: Big junior-year busker energy. I hope the quad found "once you called me forever, now you still can't call me back" as clever as he does. [4]

Isabel Cole: Mumford-lite, nasal whine, uninspired lyrics: sure. And I, who tend towards particular indifference in the face of men with their guitars, should of all people be somewhere between immune and repelled. But this one fucking got me, I don’t know. There’s something about the unrelenting quickness of the verses, the way it slips heedlessly along axes of register and mood and scope: from the mannered poetry of “all the miles combined” to the indignantly conversational “like halfway through the drive,” from self-pity to self-recrimination, from daddy issues to drinking the pain away. It plunges into melodrama -- “I’m terrified of weather” -- and pivots to a gag, funny enough and also true, about air travel in the era of COVID. He says he’s stuck, and I believe him not because of that line but precisely because the song refuses to alight on any particular complaint for long.

That’s what it’s like sometimes, when you’re in the long process of reconfiguring your life around an absence you never planned for. You scrabble for purchase amidst the concrete and specific, saying all the useless sayable things because the whole truth defies articulation. Your petty irritations and psychological fault lines alike draw you right back into the vortex. You do see him in the weather, which is a way of saying you see him everywhere, and also that you never realized your block had a particular smell in spring until one April morning you found yourself thinking of him and realized it had been a year. You dream a version of him and wake up unnerved and you don’t know if what disturbed you was what the dream got wrong or what the dream got right. You can’t believe you can't talk to him when your uncle dies and when #FreeBritney goes mainstream and every time Marvel puts out a new terrible movie, and in the peculiar gravity of loss these things feel somehow equally consequential.

You wash the dishes and listen to a song that rattles off all these different ways to miss someone and you wonder how long he’ll be the person this type of song makes you think of, and you think about how much he would hate it, how mean he would be about Noah Kahan’s hair, how you have to look up every time if it’s Noah or Noel but you’re still crying at the kitchen sink, how much of your taste was his taste first, how you lost two people, really, because he took with him the person you were when he was here. I am no longer funny, ‘cause I miss the way you laugh. Your head says this is a generous [5], that it’s neither special nor smart enough to quit while it’s ahead, that while the line about being half a heart is trite but serviceable, the clarification of “the other half was you” is unforgivable, truly, taking you out of the song every time. Your heart thinks that so many of the funniest things you’ve ever said were things you only said because he was listening. Noah, not Noel, drops the strumming to sing that line about Vermont one more time and in the emptiness around him you can almost hear the whistling northern wind, the sound of a world turned brittle and cold. Stupid. These fucking songs always do that. It’ll be four years come April. You put the dish in the rack and wipe your eyes with your wrist and before you pick up another dirty plate you hit play one more time. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[m-blackwell-and-associates]

Requiem

It was a happenstance that had him in Annaba when Maestra Lucretia’s courier found him.  The Padrone of Northern Africa had escorted the ghoul to his presence personally, knowing the messenger to be on a mission of urgency, and quickly excused himself when the courier pulled out the black bordered envelope.  

A formal declaration of a death.

At centuries old, there were few family members in this world still walking who’s passing would grant him the somber privilege of such a personal notice, let alone by the hand of the New World Maestra herself.  He knew whose death it pressaged before he even cracked the gold seal.  He had read it silently and with all decorum, before laying it in the fireplace to watch the heavy cream paper curl into black ash.  It would not do for the Maestro of Africa to lose his composure.  Even over the murder of his childe.  The dignity of his office required full control.  

Enrico Giovanni folded his hands before him, sitting alone in the front pew of the candle lit basilica.  His childe had no close mortal family on this side of the world.  She had been New World based and they would be holding their own masses.  They would be held at night, in the Venetian tradition, and all those that still knew her face and name would attend.  Anyone who was connected to those that worked behind the curtain of the family business would come, garbed in black and introduced as family to remember.  Family to be trusted.  They would shake hands and exchange the kiss of greeting and file into the church to stand with cousins they hadn’t seen since the last funeral and make future business deals in the shadows of the church.

Madaline hadn’t any ghouls or childer to pay their respects, either here or in the New World.  Chicago had been too unforgiving to allow Giovanni power to establish itself that deep.  The old wounds still bled.  There was no one left that would be honored with proximity to the deceased apart from himself, save one.  There should have been at least one by his side, but he was missing and could not be found.  Lucretia would not have cared if he had died, but if he had, she would not have hesitated to herald the event.  The carnage that Nicky would wreck upon that city was beyond comprehension.  Enrico was unsure if Lucretia would allow it to happen a second time.  Lucretia might not have the power to stop him.

It pleased Enrico to think that likely.

The choir began to sing, voices full of painful hollow sorrow, causing him to rise along with the rest of the congregation, dead and undead alike.  “Miserére mei, Deus secúndum magnam misericórdiam tuam.”  

Have mercy upon me, O God: after Thy great goodness.

The priest came down the aisle, swathed in black velvet and silver for the Requiem Mass.  Father Gregory nodded slightly as he passed, acknowledging his uncle and Maestro even in the midst of his holy calling.  Behind him was a bier, carried on the shoulders of six of his most trusted Ghiberti cousins.

But it was empty.  Nothing but a token pall and a handful of lilies. 

A flash of rage tore through him and he clenched his hands against it.  His childe.  Murdered.  The body still unrecovered.  Lost.  It was unacceptable.  An insult of the highest order.  For a moment he envied Nicky and his willingness to engage in a vengeance that would benefit no one but himself.

“Et secúndum multitúdinem miseratiónum tuárum, dele iniquitátem meam.”

According to the multitude of Thy mercies, do away mine offenses.

Madaline hadn’t been old enough to crumble to dust when Final Death took her.  There should have been a corpse, withered and old having caught up to the extended years of her existence.  The family should have recovered her from the aftermath of the ambush.  They should have prepared her earthly remains for the mass and to be returned to the Mausoleum in Venice.  There she should have been interred with the rest of the family, both long and newly dead.  Enrico should have been able to bless those bones himself and seal the tomb.

Nothing.

"Amplius lava me ab iniquitáte  mea: et a peccáto meo munda me." 

Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness: and cleanse me from my sin.

His legacy.  She was to have been his legacy.  A padrona of the Central Territory, seated in the very heart of his rival’s power.  The rage that churned inside now swirled around a growing emptiness, a great hollow realization that everything had come to naught.  Centuries of habit had him follow the mass, rising when bidden and answering the calls to the faithful, the Latin rite comforting in its familiarity.  But he didn’t pay any attention to the gospel or the homily that Father Gregory gave.  There was nothing the good father could say that Enrico wished to hear.  

Enrico closed his eyes against the sight of that black draped bier laying before the altar, the priest going through the motions of blessing and sanctifying a body that wasn’t there and praying for a soul that could not be found.  Madaline’s soul had not answered him.  There were few reasons why she would not and none of those reasons gave him comfort.  Rather, it gave him greater cause for an anger that would not subside.

“Quando cœli movendi sunt et terra: Dum veneris judicare sæculum per ignem,” the cantor sang as the empty bier was blessed, a symbolic funeral for the missing dead. When the heavens and the earth shall be moved: When Thou shalt come to judge the world by fire. 

The priest sang back, “Dies illa, dies iræ, calamitatis et miseriæ: dies magna et amara valde.” and Enrico felt the meaning curl in his dead heart.  O that day, that day of wrath, of sore distress and of all wretchedness, that of great and exceeding bitterness.  

“Dum veneris judicare sæculum per ignem.”  Enrico stared at the pall laying on nothing and thought, When Thou shalt come to judge the world by fire.  Nicholas, do not disappoint me. 

[bloodycassian]

Tender - Azriel x reader - Pregnancy fic. Fem! reader. LONG!!! 

Prompt -  Hi! I just read most of your imagines, and i loved them!  You have me as your faithful follower, I don't comment much because English is not my first language. Could you write one where az manages to perceive that reader is pregnant right in the middle of the war?

You woke to yelling. Not screaming. Not fear or pain, but battle cries that you'd grown to love. They made your blood sing in harmony with the Illyrian voices. It made your heart hammer in your chest, and your muscles tense - ready to fight. Azriel groaned beside you, curling around your waist like a vise. You managed to break free from his muscled arms. Pale light shining through the tent tinted his shadows a light gray. They wrapped around you, drawing a chill down your spine. The war cries grew louder. "Get up. It's time." You shook him, pulling on your light armor. He covered his face with his hands, and did not leave the cot. He groaned again when you pulled the blanket off his mostly naked body. He was never a morning person.  Cassian rushed in when you were putting the last of your gear on, and Az froze. His grip on his pants went white knuckled. Cassian's face was pale, and before he could say anything Azriel was hurriedly pulling on the rest of his clothes. Your stomach dropped at the sight of the Warlord. "It's a diversion." You said, voice hollow. Cassian's slight nod was enough to make the breath leave you. "It's going to be fine." Azriel grunted, pulling his tunic over his head. "We just need to move the troops. Get Rhys here." He waved a hand at his brother dismissively.  Cassian grabbed Az's wrist.  He forced the male to look at him, to see his worried eyes. You tensed, ready to defend your mate even against Cassian's might. "Rhys is on the battlefield already. We're on our own." His voice was low, and the warning in his eyes was enough to make the hair on your arms raise. Azriel pulled away from him, slowly.  He began strapping his weapons belts on, pushed his hair back and sighed. "Where do you need us?"   The air was cold, and the howls of battle echoed across the hills. Azriel's shadows curled around your legs, comforting. Then they slithered their way across the valley where the battle was beginning.  + You could barely raise your sword by the end of it. The mud had been the most challenging part of the entire fight. The enemy horses had done a good job of making obstacles when they fell in the mud, lame with broken ankles and necks. You wished to put them out of their misery, but there was no time. The forces seemed to come in waves. Like a test against your small unit.  Few were lost from your side. The dewey grass steamed in the morning light, carrying up the reek of enemy blood with it. You wiped your face, trying to get the taste of dirt and blood out of your mouth. Sharp stinging pain seared your ribs under your arm. You hissed. Then, you felt the warmth of your own blood. You swore, and looked for a medic that wasn't tending to wounded on the ground.  Some Illyrian bodies were being lifted away, high into the air for burial at their homes. You dared not take a healer away from more critically injured soldiers. You nodded grimly to the ones that you passed. They were covered in blood, and yet still gave you fierce grins when you went by. They respected you. More than any other Illyrian Female before you. It was sad, but you hoped to forge a new path for other females of Illyria. You held an arm under your side and limped your way out of the mud. The packed mess inside your boots made moving your feet hard. You couldn't wait to shower.  You spotted Cassian far down the field, and watched as he raised his sword high over his head. Your stomach twisted in pity for the suffering animal under him. You looked away before you could see the lifeblood drain from the horse's neck. He sent a blessing to the Mother for the animal, and continued on to the next suffering soul that would meet its end via his blade.  + You hadn't seen her in a long while. Too long for a friend, but she gave you that same look she always did when she saw you hobbling up to her for help. Jeva was your favorite healer, and one you knew could keep a secret. She was round, and her voice was light and comforting. She smelled of nutmeg and berries. Something you had appreciated about her since you had met. "What is it this time?" She waved you inside, holding the tent flap open for you while you dumped your battle stained gear on the wood hutch beside the entrance.  The tent was light and airy, filled with small plants of different varieties and cluttered with boxes and books everywhere. Her desk and bed were shoved to the corner, and a long wood table took up the majority of her area. As if she had known you were coming, she already had potions of different types laid out on the end of the table. "Probably nothing." You said, pulling off your armor as gingerly as you could manage. The soft light flickered and changed to a harsh beam when she laid you down on her exam table. "I'm not supposed to be healing anymore you know. I'm retired." She clicked her tongue at you, earning a pained grin. It was hard for you to bother a healer for any amount of time for something that you were sure was so small. But something about it stung too much for it to be just a scrape. And you knew Cassian would lecture you about it being infected if he saw through your mask to the pain. Az would force you to see one anyway as soon as he learned of it.  "You know I wouldnt be here unless I had to be, Jeva." You said through your teeth as she cut away your muddied undershirt.  "Oh, I know. That's why I have my best potions ready." She laughed, then paused. Your shirt lay limp on the table. Her eyebrows knitted together at the sight of your open wound. "Is it bad?" You asked, craning to try to look for yourself. She held you down.  "Metal. Fragments are still in here, likely why it hasn't healed yet." You relaxed at that, grateful that it wasn't worse. "Thank the Mother. Az would have yelled all night." You rolled your eyes, and sighed as she started working on you. The first part was always the worst. The stinging hot potion that made the nerves around the wound numb.  "One-" She began her countdown, then poured. You growled at her, gripping the end of the stained table hard enough to crack. "Easy..." She warned, and smoothed down your hair. She knew how to take care of her patients, that was certain. You relaxed as the stinging eased. The dull ache that it left behind turned into a bad memory.  "I'm going to extract the blade then we can close you up. Simple and easy." She picked up her tools and began tugging away at your side. You could have fallen asleep with the relief the numbing potion brought. And with her humming in the air around you, it was a struggle not to. The time seemed to pass quickly, but when the clank of the metal tools jolted you from your dozing, the tent was lit in orange from the sunset outside. "Relax, we're going to close it up now. Once the potion wears off you will still be sensitive." She placed her hands over you, and the familiar warm vibrations of her healing magic set in. Then it stopped abruptly. You cracked open an eye, then narrowed your brows at her. "What is it?" You said gently, then again when she didnt reply. She stared at you, mouth agape. Her eyes locked to yours, even when you sat up to demand she tell you what the problem was. "Am I dying?!" you took her hand gently, in case she was going to push you away.  Then she started laughing, her hand gripping yours back. The warmth glowed in your palm, the light radiating out from it was starkly contrasting the tent walls bedecked in orange. The light she emitted shot through you, and you felt the wound tingle, and seal. You stared at her in shock. That amount of healing power was incredible. Especially for field medics.  "Youre not dying, no..." She waved a hand, fanning herself. Her eyes were glassy with tears. She sniffed and clutched your hand tighter. "Quite the opposite, darling." She pulled you in for a warm hug.  + You spent the rest of the evening with Jeva. Until she got a hurried message about student healers needing help on the battlefield. You stayed in her tent as long as you could manage with the ringing in your ears. You stared and stared at the mirror across from you, showing you the bloodied warrior that you wanted to be. That you wanted to stay.  The warrior that carried the Shadowsinger's child.  The thought made tears sting your eyes. You refused to let them fall. You had been ignoring his tugs down the bond for well over an hour. You knew he was concerned, but you couldn't bring yourself to shout back down. The only thing that echoed in your mind were Jeva's words "You're pregnant..."  Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.  You nearly punched her when she told you she wasn't joking. The only reason you even believed her was because of that powerful zap of healing she sent to you. That she sent to scan your body and make sure the fetus was okay before you even knew about it. You could barely hear half the words she said as she told you your options.  You roiled with the thought now. The Mugwart she left on the table was daunting. You desperately wanted her back. Jeva would be able to deliberate with you. You knew she would tell you to do whatever makes you happy. You knew that. But you wondered how ethical the choice that made you happy was. Bringing a child into a world of war seemed cruel. Even if it made you happy. You distantly noticed Azriel as you passed him, walking to the forest edge just passed your tent. Worry laced the bond between you. You tried not to show anything back. But you knew he felt the tension, the void there. "Where the hell have you been?!" Azriel's eyes were furious when you passed him, his wings flared out slightly. You couldnt even look at him with anger back. Your emotions ran wild. You were frozen, and as numb as the potion Jeva had given you when she began removing the blade.  "Do you know how worried I have been?! I sent Cassian to-" He tried to grab for your hand to stop you, but you flicked him away. He stopped for a moment, stunned. Then returned with more energy than before. That yawning abyss in your bond was growing darker with shame, worry and anxiety. His shadows roiled around him as he caught up. "You dont get to-" "Azriel..." You stopped in the edge of the clearing. The small meadow was silent in the darkness, not even the monsters of Prythian dared roar tonight. Your mind did all the roaring you could handle, anyway. You tried to focus on the swaying grass, on the soft smell of wet bark and pine hanging in the air.  "Dont try to excuse this I need to know you're okay and-" He stormed in front of you, ready to burst with rage. His fear always made him angry. And for good reason after losing so many close to him.  A tear ran down your cheek, your face burned hot with hundreds of feelings at once. Fear, pain, shock, joy, hope.... elation. You wanted his children. You wanted to help raise his child. You wanted to see Azriel be a father. You knew he would be the best damn Illyrian father there had ever been.  The thought hit you like a well placed punch.  He saw your paleness, your tears and stopped his yelling. You fell to your knees, the mud splattering all around you. You wanted to lay down. Lay down and think about the implications of carrying his child. Would it be good for the baby to be born at all? Just because you wanted it didnt mean it needed to happen. You knew that Jeva would give you a potion to extract it without hesitation if it was what you wished. "I'm-" You choked out, fighting the panic that flooded you. Your mind roiled with the conflict of your mind and heart. It turned you into a muddied, dark ocean on the bond. A turmoil that he couldn't see past. If you were an ocean, he was your lighthouse on the cliffside. Signaling you home.   His eyes darted to your body, to your hands and how they wrung together in front of you. "I'm sorry. I just-" He sighed and took one of your hands. "I'm sorry." He kissed the back of it and brought his forehead to yours. He normally needed a lot longer to cool down after a fight, but seeing you in tears shocked him out of his pride. "I shouldn't have said that... I know you can take care of yourself." his voice was low, and he ran a hand comfortingly down your back. A hysteric laugh bubbled from your throat. It sounded like a sob. You didn't know exactly which it was. He sat back and pulled you into his lap, despite the grass being dewey and damp. He rocked you there for a few seconds before you had to tell him. Before he could be too close if he didnt want you anymore. The doubt crept into your head, and the nerves ate at you. Your heart raced, you could feel it in your neck. "Azriel..stop." You pushed away from him, to catch his beautiful dark eyes. They were painted in a silver hue by the moon above. You took in his face, the curve of his cheeks and lips for possibly the last time. You had to consider the worst possible outcome. You braced yourself for the rejection, for the pain of his reaction. You knew it had to come out. You knew you had to say it now or you never would. Your stomach flipped over and over.  You opened your mouth, a soft sob wracking out of you before you began. He froze. Went utterly still, his shadows even stopping for a second before whirling faster than before. Your eyes went wide. His nose flared, eyes narrowed. He held you closer, sniffing at your neck. He pulled back and his eyes were even wider than before. His mouth fell open when you nodded. "I'm-" "Youre-" his face went through a whirlwind of different emotion. Then, he broke out into a small laugh. He couldn't stop. You felt the tears running down your cheeks and didnt bother to wipe them away. "Honey... I'm sorry." He stopped laughing suddenly. "What do you want to do?" His eyes were masked, his expression the most serious you'd ever seen him. His aura on your bond seemed to go completely gray and still, as if he didn't want you to see him. He masked everything. In preparation for whatever you decide. The gesture made your heart squeeze in appreciation. You stammered, resting your forehead on his. "I dont know." You muttered, voice cracking. Then, he was wrapping his arms around you in a smothering hug. When he pulled away, he cradled your face in his hands. The hands that had seen so much cruelty in his life. The possibilities of the same thing happening to your child made your heart race. "I'm here for whatever decision you make." He brushed your cheek with a thumb. You nodded and let him hold you like that for a while. Quietly rocking back and forth with you in his lap. + You were near falling asleep when the war cries rang out again. Illyrians howling for their leaders to join them. Another onslaught of death coming their way. The calls were distant, but Azriel tensed the second he heard them. Your blood went cold. He buried his face to your chest, as if he wished he could hide there. "I'm not going." He said when you tried pushing him away. "I wont leave you." He promised, locking his muscled forearms around you. The echoes of battle cries faded. He stroked your hair, and traced his fingers along your back. Then he swore. "Let me take care of this." He said, voice edged with anger. Nerves pricked at your stomach, but you stood, wobbling on your feet slightly. He took off into the night sky painted in silvers and blues by the full moon. Then came racing back down right behind Rhys. the high lord took one breath and then he was hugging his brother. Azriel shoved him off, and they shot into the night sky. Well, Azriel did. He dragged Rhys with him. Grunts of pain and fleshy sounds of punching rang out.  You followed them high into the air where they had their conversation. Your wings led you around them with ease. "Stop fighting and use your words, boys." You warned. You recognized Azriels growl and smiled to yourself as they broke apart. Rhys adjusted his tunic and cleared his throat. "I need you there. Cassian is handling the Western front, the others need a leader."  Azriel began protesting against the high lord. "I cant with my mate-" "I know it feels impossible right now but-" "I will not, Rhys-" You set your jaw. If they wanted to fight over if you needed protection or not, you would take the option off the table all together. "I'll go." you said, voice strong since hearing Jeva announce what grew inside you. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. You shoved the thoughts away as far as you could. They both turned to you, horror striking Azriels features. "Absolutely not. No." Heat and rage flared down the bond. It made you want to defy everything he said. You locked eyes with him and glared. Rhys glanced between you with tense shoulders. He cleared his throat. "It would be a good compromise, Azriel. You can go together to the Eastern front. Think about it." He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave him a grim smile.  "I wont say a word." He said, summoning the darkness around him then winnowing away. Azriel's cold eyes made him look like a statue. "Let's go." He said, and started circling lower. Back to the meadow.  "I'm going, you cant stop me from following you." You said, expecting a fight. He said nothing. You were met with that silence that drove others crazy tryin to find out what he wanted from them. The bond seemed to snap taut, then go into a relaxed state. He was hiding. You knew it, but would rather have silence and peace than him trying to fight you again.  He walked you back to the tent, and exhaustion took you under before you could remember him laying down with you. You hoped it it was exhaustion, and not whatever the baby was doing to you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't resist the urge to cradle your belly while you slept. There was no bump, but it felt like the most natural thing to do now that you were aware of the being inside you. You slept hard, and awoke to the breakfast bell chiming. The sounds of slow footsteps marching through the mud kept you awake. Azriel was gone, but the candle on the table was lit. A note lay there waiting for you. His messy scrawl made you smile, the familiarity of his writing reminded you of the notes he would leave you when he had to leave early for meetings with Rhys. "Back by nightfall, lover. A guard is at the tent, ask her to bring you anything you need. -A" You peeked outside the tent to see Jeva there, her long fur coat shimmering in the morning light. Her breath clouded in front of her when she gave you a soft smile. "Good morning." She pulled a muffin from her coat. "Your favorite." She winked, and you pulled her inside. She had a fire roaring by the time you finished your food. "How are you not freezing?" She complained, blowing into her hands to keep them warm. You brushed the crumbs from your shirt and really took into account the changes you'd noticed lately. How hungry you'd been, how tired after the easiest days.  "Do you know... How um..." You gestured to your stomach. She gave a small smile and nodded. "Only a month or so." She said quietly. You stared at your stomach, as if waiting for something to answer you. To give some sort of affirmation that Jeva was right. She continued warming herself by the fire, and soon the tent was filled with her warm chestnut smell. Cassian entered the tent when you were starting to doze off again. The wool blanket on your lap reminded you of a time when you first met Az. Your heart squeezed at the memory of those long nights shared together by a fire. Taking your turns on watch duty. You shook yourself from the memory. Cassian froze. His face scrunched up at the sight of you. The scent, you realised. You swore to yourself, and Jeva only nodded when he looked to her. "Youre pregnant?" He asked breathlessly, and you could smell the fear and excitement coming from him. In fact, you could smell the smoked meat on his breath. And the cold air that clung to him from outside. It was refreshing, like a cool drink on a hot day amid the dry heat inside the tent. "I'm sorry, I shouldnt have.." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain focused.  "Its okay, Cass. What's going on? Az left me this note." You handed it to him. His lips moved as he read it. He went white as bone. Your stomach dropped.  + Azriel had gone in the night to take out the entire eastern flank with a small group of Illyrians. You felt your world skittering away as Cassian told you. Your vision went blurry, and tears fell, dripping on your hands that clenched the wool blanket.  "He's on his way here now. He had to answer to Rhys first."  Cassian waited for you to say anything. But your lips just couldnt form the words. The hurt, anger... the betrayal you felt for him going to battle without you. And defying a direct order from his high lord like a fool. "I suggest you leave before Azriel comes back. It may get messy." Jeva spoke for you, and you were grateful. You gave Cassian a nod of thanks before he turned and left. The cold wind that blew in from the door gave you goosebumps.  "Take it easy, you dont want to be too stressed." Jeva handed you a mug of tea and gave you a small squeeze. You could smell Azriel before he entered. Jeva shot him a glare, but said nothing. "I'll be in my tent if you need me." She promised, gave you a look that said 'find me after' and left. Azriel took off his armor plates one by one. A bit too slowly to be considered normal. Stalling. You said nothing. You let the tension roil out of you, let it hit him down the bond. Like a wave getting ready to break. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his wings.  The mask he wore cracked when he saw your fists balled in the blanket. "I couldnt risk you... or the babe." He tried to hide the fear that shone through. The fear of his mate or child being hurt in battle. He wouldnt be able to stand it. The fight was needed, anyway. He needed to get out his instincts to protect protect protect.  You said nothing. You let that looming wave grow larger. He sighed, and sat at the end of the cot beside you. "I'm sorry. I needed....I needed to get my head straight. I should have told you. I'm sorry." That wave crashed, not on him though. Internally, guilt and fear melting in on yourself. "I cant lose you, we... We cant." You said through your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that begged to spill over. He tried his best to hold back his surprise. "We?" He asked, a small smile playing on his full lips.  You gave him a grim smile. "If you're...ready to be a father. I like imagining you, with my child."  "Our child." He said with a bubbling laugh. You laughed with him, and it turned to hysterics.  He wiped tears from the corner of your eyes. "We're going to have a baby?" He cradled your face, looking into your eyes. You took one of his hands, and placed it on your flat belly. "Yes. We are." You said, voice quivering.  He wrapped you into a hug, and you cried together in the cot. 

[wandaromanova]

Left Behind

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, death

A/N: hi! this was a request! hope you guys like this one! y’all can blame @midgardianweasley for this one. happy reading <3

anon requested: Natasha x fem! reader. Reader and Natasha were in a building on fire trying to get citizens out and a wooden beam lands on reader. It’s too heavy for Natasha to lift it but won’t give up. Reader is screaming for Natasha to go! Giving her a smile that everything will be okay! A fireman then pulls Natasha out of the building against her will seeing the whole building collapse in reader.

Summary: Natasha and Y/N go on a mission, but don’t make it back together.

Word Count: 1.6K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

You were an Avenger just like your girlfriend; Natasha. You had met the redhead when you first joined the team.

You were one of the highest-ranked S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Fury had decided to recruit you into the team of heroes. You had heard many stories about the Black Widow and to say you were a fan was an understatement.

You had an immense amount of respect for Natasha. Her past wasn’t a great one, but she turned her life around and made it beautiful. She didn’t let her mistakes define who she was and you admired that.

The assassin had taken a liking to you. You guys immediately hit it off. About six months after your arrival, you began dating Natasha.

Natasha’s room became yours too. You’d spend your nights laid on top of the redhead as she stroked your hair gently. You’d close your eyes and ask her to say anything because the sound of her voice was your favorite.

She’d sing Russian lullabies to you. You were the only person she’d ever let hear her sing. She said she was a terrible singer and not letting anyone hear her was a gift, but she was actually amazing at it.

Her husky voice sent chills down your spine whenever she would speak. So when she sang to you in Russian? You were speechless.

You felt blessed to know that Natasha was truly herself in your presence. No one had ever seen her true colors, until you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were the person that Natasha went to for everything.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Exhausted after a long mission? She’d run into your arms as soon as she’d land. Steve and Tony annoying the fuck out of her? She’d rant to you about how small their brains were.

Devastated after a mission had gone wrong? She’d find comfort in your presence and your words. You’d whisper soft reassurances against her ear as you’d rock your bodies side-to-side.

Receiving good news? You’d be the very first person she’d tell as the excitement took over her. You’d match her energy, feeling just as excited as her, if not more. Natasha would beam as you’d press a soft kiss to the crown of her head, mumbling an ‘i’m so proud of you’ against her scalp.

You were Natasha’s person and she was yours. You genuinely believed you were made for one another. From the way your hands fit like two pieces of a puzzle with one another, to the way your thoughts and ideas seemed to always align. You guys just got each other in a way no one else could.

So, naturally, you were always assigned partners on missions. You two had the best communication on the team which led to tons of successful missions. However, communication couldn’t prevent nor predict the surprises of enemies.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You and Natasha were sent undercover to a gala being held by one of the leaders of Hydra.

The goal was to capture him for questioning and keep him in custody. That should be easy, considering there was booze everywhere and everyone was either tipsy or black-out drunk.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Well yes, it would’ve been easy; if your cover hadn’t been blown.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were currently sat on the target’s lap as he not so subtly stared at your cleavage. You were with him in a private area further into the party, while Natasha remained in the public area.

The drunk man looked up at you and you smiled down at him; trying your best to hide your disgust. However, he didn’t smile back at you.

You were caught off guard when he abruptly shoved you off of his lap, your body colliding with the marble floor.

“You’re an Avenger. You bitch!” You quickly stood up at his words and attacked him. You spoke into your earpiece while fighting off the man.

“Nat, our cover has been blown. I need backup.” You said as the man landed a heavy punch onto your abdomen. You stumbled back and he took the opportunity to rush out of the room.

“взорвать это место, сейчас! (blow the place up, now!)”

Your eyes widened at his words. Before you could rush out of the room yourself, an explosion pushed you back. Your body collided with a wall and you let out a scream of agony as a beam from the ceiling landed on top of you.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The sounds of screams and the fire alarms accompanied the ringing in your ears. Your only thoughts being; your pain and Natasha.

She had been on her way over here before the bomb went off. Was she okay? Did she get hit by the force of the bomb? Was she gone?

You tried your best to lift the beam off of your body, but to no avail. You realized that a piece of metal that had been sticking out of the beam had lodged itself into your chest.

Your eyes tore away from the beam on top of you and landed on red locks. Natasha stumbled into the room; or at least, what was left of it anyway. She paused in her tracks at your state.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as her hands shot up to cover her mouth, a muffled gasp escaping her throat. She quickly got it together and rushed over to help you.

Nat got down on her knees, not caring about how harsh the rubble was against her bare skin. She moved to lift the beam, but you stopped her.

“Natty, no. If you lift it, I’ll bleed out.” You sent her a small smile before you began to cough. Natasha’s heart sunk to her stomach at the sight of blood pouring out of your mouth.

“I have to get you out of here, babe. We have a movie night planned, I have to make sure that still happens.” Nat tried to joke in an attempt to console you, but it was more to control her own fear than anything.

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of another explosion. The building quaked as flames began to invade the room. She needed to go; now.

You shook your hand that was sticking out from the beam slightly. Nat got the message and held your hand with both of hers tightly.

“You need to leave, honey. This place is going to collapse any minute now.” You croaked out, ignoring the metallic taste in your mouth.

“I’ll be damned if I leave you behind. If you’re going down, I’m going down with you.” You couldn’t help but smile as you took in every inch of Nat’s face.

She was absolutely beautiful. Even with the dust and dirt littering her face and her worried expression; she was still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

The flames began to rage. The smoke was beginning to cloud your vision of the woman in front of you. You rubbed one of her hands with the back of your thumb, not minding the pain that accompanied the action.

“Go. Now. It’s okay. I love you so much and you aren’t leaving me behind; you never would and I- I know that.”

You stuttered towards the end of the sentence as you were overcome by an intense chill. You were losing so much blood and it wasn’t going to be long now before you were gone.

Your eyes drifted towards a figure entering the room. A firefighter. His eyes widened as he noticed both of you. He rushed over to help you, but you stopped him.

“Hey buddy, I’m a goner regardless if you get this off of me or not. Get her out of here. You can’t save me, but you can save her.”

You managed to let out as another fit of coughs shook your body. More crimson liquid spilled out of your mouth and Natasha finally let her tears fall.

The man nodded solemnly before he grabbed Natasha by the waist. She struggled against his hold as she kicked and screamed; her arms reaching out for you.

“No! No! Please let me stay! I can’t leave you! You can’t leave me!” Natasha’s words paired with her tone of agony and desperation tore your heart apart.

All you could do was smile lovingly at her as you slowly felt the life leave your body. She was going to be okay eventually and that’s all you wanted for her.

“I love you, moya lyubov (my love). It’s okay. Take care of yourself.”

You spoke quietly, but it was loud enough for Natasha to hear. She watched as the bright light that once filled your irises turned to a blank stare.

Natasha fought even harder against the man’s firm grip as she sobbed out. He had finally managed to get the both of them out of the room and out of the building. This all happened in the span of a few minutes, but to Natasha, it felt like an eternity.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The firefighter placed Nat down once they were a good distance away from the building. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she ran towards the building, but before she could make it back in; the entire structure collapsed.

Natasha’s knees roughly hit the floor as she took in the sight. The building that you were in was nothing but broken concrete and rubble. You were buried beneath all of that carnage.

Natasha sobbed without care. She couldn’t give two fucks if people were staring at her with pity or sympathy. She had just lost the love of her life.

Natasha couldn’t help but blame herself. If she had gotten to the room sooner, she could’ve gotten the both of you out of there. You wouldn’t have been crushed by a beam.

She wouldn’t have had to watch as you bled out. She wouldn’t have had to witness firsthand; as the soul she had fallen in love with left the world.

Natasha cried out into the night. The chaos going on around her turned to white noise. Her surroundings were in slow motion as she mourned.

Each tear that fell from her eyes represented each obliterated possibility of a future with the woman she loved.

Each scream that left her mouth served as curses to every higher power there was, for so cruelly taking the love of her life; you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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[toonblabbers]

Balls to the Walls Random Headcanons

A/N: Just trying to flex and expand my writing with other characters: Ace Edition - Ushijima, Iwaizumi, Aran, Hoshiumi, Asahi, Yamamoto and Sakusa!

I didn’t write about my big sexy himbo Bokuto because my blog is like almost 90% him

This contains some mentions to smut so hey: minors DNI! Thanks!

 Ushijima:

Service top with a dash of Dom. Got a big cock but he doesn’t know what to do with it so please help him out.

Had one (1) partner before you and they told him he can be too rough so now he’s the literal definition of Gentle Giant. Again tell him what to do and how you like it

He on the other hand…Well he’s got a hard body from years of strength and endurance training. He has very specific spots where he’s super sensitive, but he’s easily embarrassed about them

One spot is right behind his earlobe. Sit in his lap, pinch his ear and gently rub it between your fingers. The sight of Ushi’s eyes fluttering closed as his breathing picks up is truly a sight to behold

Another spot is his wrist; stare him in the eyes and kiss his wrist before a match to have his knees quake a little and shorts feel a little tighter

Actually loves to discover new kinks with you. He finds it more romantic than having a quiet dinner with you in an expensive restaurant

Can be a big ole needy baby during the off season of volleyball. Tugging on your shirt when you leave the bed, follows you into the bathroom, stands behind you in the kitchen or when you’re doing laundry. He’s not vocal with his words but more with his body

Don’t tease him though; it’s still a very new feeling for him to express

 Iwaizumi

Hates fighting with you but loves to pull you close and soothe you with a hot kiss

Has big Dom Daddy energy, but there are a few ways to make him start to crumble under you touch

If you use any piece of clothing to pull him in closer to you like his collar, his tie when he wears one, or his belt. Lean in like your gonna kiss him, stare at his lips then his eyes and then just walk away like nothing happened. You bet your sweet ass he’s gonna follow you to get that kiss

Another way that he refuses to admit he likes: play with his nipples. He’s got some fairly big and dark nipples compared to his friends and they get hard easily. Brush your fingers over them when you lean in to kiss and he’s got diamonds poking through his polo shirt

One way that he will admit is ass play. Now he’s not ready to full on take a cock in his ass, but things like your fingers, anal beads, or a vibrator? Makes him practically cum on the spot

Loves it when you get rough on him. Not like in a “I’m gonna slap you” kind of way but in the “grab him by the hair and demand he fucks you properly when he’s taking it too slow” kind of way

His cock pulsing hard inside of you and his eyes dilating is a dead giveaway of how much he loves it

 Aran

Admittedly, he doesn’t have a monster dong (sorry not sorry, not all fucking black guys have a big cock so stop fetishing it thanks – from a black woman) but it does have a nice curve to it

He’s a disgusting romantic so full on he will bust out the candles, the rose petals, and the silk robe waiting on the bed for you. He saw it in a movie once as a kid and wanted to try it ever since

He so cute though because since he is a big romantic, he’s always cooking you breakfast and singing a little song in the morning for you. He even does a little dance while carrying the tray off food just to see you smile in the morning

He’s also such a soft Dom dude. Admittedly a little scared to try an bottom for you but man does he make you feel loved when he’s in between your legs

Loves to hold your hands or hold you close when he cums. Wants you to feel how his whole body shudders because of how good you make him feel

Big ole cuddle bug so it’s best to have some towels and water bottles by the bed cause neither of you are moving unless he says so

He’s a man a of quality and not quantity, so yeah you guys only go one round of sex cause he’s bone tired after he cums. That doesn’t mean he can’t make you cum multiple times though

Hoshiumi

 A short King. We stan (I’m 5’9 so he’s short to me)

He is a meeeeessy boi dude like if ya’ll in a hurry to fuck, he’ll quickly slobber all over you and use as much spit as he needs to slide home. Loves how tight you are, but he’s careful enough to make sure it doesn’t hurt you…..too much

Loves. To. Fuck. You. Both. Dumb.

Did you just cum? Well he’s not stopping until he cums. Did he just cum? Well he’s not stopping until you cum. Wants to keep it equal

Please sit on his face. He loves it. And if you play with his balls like rolling them in your hands and squeezing them? He’s whining and panting while eating you out like a mad man

He adores it when you play with his hair when you’re cuddling. Just don’t be surprised if he starts humping against you. It just feels so good

He’s very competitive so god help you if you’re with his friends and they start talking about their sex stories.

If there’s a friend there (Hinata) that talks about the kind of kinks they do with their partner and it’s something you guys haven’t tried before? Guess what’s on the list tonight

 Asahi

God just hold him. He needs it. Another one that's is a great service top for someone who loves to lead from the bottom (me @ me)

Not the biggest set in the world but he's got passion so sex is almost always soft and sweet

He's still hot in his own ways like the way his deep grunts start to turn into softest and sweetest moans

Or the way he stares at you; eyes swirling between lust and loves with tears threatening to spill

Please don't be mean to him unless he asks. It's evident that he holds a lot of insecurities and he's trying his best for you. Love and dote on him because his aftercare is top tier

Even if you guys don't do anything special or crazy. Just some straight vanilla sex, he always makes sure that you're comfortable before you go to bed

Also he helps you establish a nightly routine with him so what's not to love about that?

Yamamoto

SIMP ALERT. Be ready for one of the LOUDEST simps out there. 

I'm talking a bigger simp than all the setters for Hinata or all the captains for Daichi

You can fit so much passion and respecting people juice into this boy right here

I don't see him being a wild boy but if you're into it then so is he. Want him to spank you? He's gonna ask how hard baby.

However if you want to do something that he seems a bit hesitant on, he’s gonna try to be overconfident with everything. Make sure you talk to him and make sure you have a solid agreement with with him. Communication is key with him!

He's a little sloppy and lazy with his aftercare but you know what, it's always fun with him

I don't know much about him but he gives off that vibe of a man that runs on pure fiery passion and motivation. Like if he’s feeling like loving on you tonight? Be ready to not do a damn thing cause youre gonna be his precious pillow gem (idk if there's a gn term for ‘pillow princess’)

Sakusa

Ooof. Where do I begin with this beautiful man. Pretty body with a pretty cock to match for starts

He’s sexy man but he has these cute little moles all over his body. He personally doesn’t like them but please kiss each one even the one on his butt. He may not voice it but he loves it so much

He will gladly do the same for you; kissing you every part of your body that you may not like about yourself.

Doesn’t have a high sex drive, but when he’s in the mood, damn you better clear your plans. He believes in both quantity AND quality so you will be thoroughly fucked out when he’s done with you

I see him as the kind of dom that goes for the kind of pleasure that benefits you both. Not a selfish lover but also not an absolute giver like the others

Yeah there are nights where he wants to treat you but others nights he’s gonna make you work for it

Tagging: @hiddenbluee, @kou-taro, @justcoffeewithoutcaffeine​

[acourtofsnakes]

Let Me Show You - Bucky Barnes x F! Reader (smut)

Gif by @buckysbarnes

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for a few months now, and the man has given you everything - literally. One night, Bucky encourages you to let go of your anxiety and let him show you just how sinful that mouth of his can truly be.

Warnings: 18+!!! Brief mention of drinking, Swearing, smut!!: Oral - f receiving, fingering, praise kink, arm kink, (Bucky kink?), unprotected PinV sex, fluff, encouragement

Word Count: 4k+ - I got carried away. 

A/N: Aaahhhh, my first ever request from @kaylee-krystal  I hope I did your idea justice and this is what you were hoping for. I added my own ideas for backstory and such, so I hope it’s okay 🙊thank you again, so, so much for requesting!!! I have reread this a couple times, but I’ve no doubt missed something somewhere, so apologies in advance. 

Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood

James Buchanan Barnes. 

Now there was a topic you could talk about day and night. 

And probably even in your sleep. 

You’d been dating for a few months now, and everyday was better than the last, even it did sound cliché. 

You’d met in a local Brooklyn bar, having frequented it now and then with your friends for relaxed nights out or after work drinks. 

The first time you’d seen the soldier, he’d been sitting at the bar alone, brooding over a beer. 

It had taken you a few moments, but you’d suddenly realised who it was. 

Bucky Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier, Avenger and now often seen with Sam Wilson. 

THE Bucky Barnes was sitting in your local. 

And instantly he had taken your breath away. 

A set of cheekbones that could cut glass with a jawline to match. Plush lips that looked irresistibly soft - and sinful. 

A tangle of dark hair that was begging to have a pair of hands run through to mess it up. 

You could see the broad line of his shoulders from where you were situated in the booth, and you went home that night imagining everything else about him. 

The next time you saw him, it was about a week later. You were waiting for your friend to arrive and had gone up the bar to get drinks ordered. 

And there he was, just like the last time. 

Only now, you saw that he had a pair of gorgeous eyes, a blue like the Arctic Ocean and just as deep. 

And they were settled on your face with a cheeky little smile, which only grew when you looked at him. 

Moments later, you were seated next to him, lost in conversation about whether the Hobbit was better than Lord of the Rings. 

After laughing at one of his jokes, he’d asked you out on a date, instantly enamoured with the way your eyes lit up like the Brooklyn Bridge and you radiated goodness. 

And the rest was history. 

One date fell into two, and then three, and then just like that... you were dating. 

Boyfriend and girlfriend. 

Picnics in Prospect Park and afternoons at the Smithsonian. 

Nights watching all the movies and tv shows he still needed to catch up on and mornings where you joined him on a run. 

It was beautiful. Sure, you had a few tense moments where you might disagree, or he might have a bad day where memories crept up and he lashed out, but you never backed down. Never ran from him or looked the other way. And he did the same for you. Holding you when you needed him to but firmly expressing himself if you ever went too far. 

It was healthy, enriching and you had both grown so much in just a few months. 

Especially in the intimacy department. 

You weren’t lacking knowledge or experience, not by any means but it was just... some things you were a little uncomfortable with. 

It wasn’t that you had bad memories of the past or had been hurt, it was more a personal thing. 

And you had explained some of these hang-ups to Bucky, who’d taken them all in his stride and been amazing about it. 

When you were in these moments, he would ask if you wanted to try something and if you said no, he respected it and moved on. And if you said yes... well. Then you got a lesson in just how good he could make you feel. 

Bucky had learnt your body in no time at all and... He was mindblowingly good. He knew exactly how to make you cry out his name like a plea, a prayer and a sin all in one. 

It had gotten to the point where you’d drift off in the day, your mind taking you back to the way his lips mouthed over your skin, the way his fingers arched and curled inside your walls just right to reach that spot that hard you arching from the bed all the whole those baby blues were locked onto yours, watching you fall apart with an adoring fire blazing in the blue depths. 

The man only had to give you that killer smile and you’d be instantly soaked. 

He was going to be the death of you one day. 

~~

“Bucky!”

The sound of his name bounced around the walls of your bedroom, high and keening as the fingers of his vibranium hand stroked your inner walls with a relentless rhythm and pleasure. 

“C’mon baby, that’s it..” he mumbled the sweet nothings against your chest, his mouth pressing kisses across your hot skin, over your collarbones and breasts. 

His hair tickled your neck as your tipped your head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth  parted in pleasure. 

He was working you to your second orgasm of the night already. 

The man had practically pounced on you when you walked through the door of your shared apartment and you were only too willing to drop everything - underwear included - and lose a few hours. 

Your hips jerked against his hand, bucking in time with his fingers. The heel of his hand was pressed to your clit, applying delicious pressure with each pass of your hips as you chased down your release, feeling it coil tighter and tighter in the base of your spine. 

You slid a hand up into his hair, knotting your fingers in the silky chocolate locks “Fuck-“ 

God, you were so close, so, so close-

Bucky already knew, and he scissored his fingers inside you, sucking at your nipple and triggering your orgasm, gently pushing you over that edge. 

Pleasure tore through your body, making your blood sing and his name bounce through the room again. Every single orgasm he gave you made your body catch fire, and you felt it from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Through the haze, you heard his lust roughened voice, cooing those praises that only succeeded in making you come harder, “Good girl. Look at you... you look like a goddess. A fucking goddess that deserves to be worshiped every single day.” His hot breath fanned over your skin, “Make me want to do this all the time, give you everything, baby.” 

He kept moving his fingers inside you, the noise filthy and almost forbidden as your slick coated his vibranium fingers. He moved and moved until you pushed lightly at his hand, the sensation almost too much. 

Bucky met your eyes when they opened, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking at them and he moaned low at your taste, a wicked grin spreading around them when you groaned. “I’ll never get tired of this.” 

Of your taste. 

You let out a soft huff of a laugh, feeling your body hum still as you beheld the sight of your boyfriend sucking your juices off his fingers, all dark eyes and ruffled hair. “You will be the death of me one day, you know that right?” 

His chuckle was husky and he kissed your neck gently, “Oh, I know. But you will too, so the feeling is definitely mutual, doll.” 

His lips brushed over your belly button and a ripple of apprehension tickled down your spine and you struggled a little to focus on his words. “Every day since, you just blow me away. Everything you do. The way you’re so determined, the drive you have.” His kissed above your hip bone, tracing his tongue over the skin and he drew a little heart with his saliva, “You make me want to be a better person. You make me feel brave enough to make amends, to let go of my past and accept it.” His words were so heartfelt, so meaningful that they threatened to bring tears to your eyes. 

But then his lips brushed lower, and you knew where this was going. 

He had tried before, a couple of times now in the last few months and each time you’d stopped him. 

And each time, he did so without hesitation and just moved on. 

Your eyes snapped open, spine locking up, “Bucky.” 

Instantly, he stopped. His head lifted as he heard the hesitancy in your voice, the apprehension, “What is it, baby? Are you okay?” His lust-blown eyes were wide, a frown between them as he looked over your face for the cause of you stopping him. He realised what he did and his face softened, “Shit, baby... I’m so sorry.” He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. 

Your heart was pounding through your chest and you were convinced he could hear it. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not you... I just... um..” 

Oh, you wished the ground would swallow you up. 

Bucky’s warm, broad hand rubbed soothingly over your thigh and he felt the tremble in your body, “Hey... relax. It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me... .”  

You swallowed, shame tinting your cheeks and you stared at the ceiling light, too afraid to look at him. But he had shared so much with you... and you wanted to share this with him, “No one... no one has ever...” a cringe took over your features, “Gone down on me before.” 

Silence. 

Oh, god. 

Your voice came out quiet, hesitant, “Bucky...?” Gathering your courage, you peered down at him. 

He was staring at you, that frown still between his eyes as he looked over your face. He had his suspicions as to why you didn’t like it, but he was never sure. “Is it because... Have people refused to? Because if they have, they were not worth your time. You are beautiful, completely and utterly beautiful and deserve to have someone worship you like that.” there was a tone to his voice, like he would go and tear into anyone who refused to give you such pleasure. 

Oh. 

Shaking your head quickly, you sat up on your elbows, “No! No, it’s not that. They’ve asked to it’s just... me.” 

It was true. 

You had partners who asked to go down on you all the time but... something in you just couldn’t. You weren’t sure entirely why. 

Whether it was the idea that someone would be so close... there. 

What if you weren’t... pretty enough?

What if you didn’t taste good?

What if.... you did something wrong?

It had always been a bit of a hang-up, and even when your friends described how unbelievable good it felt... you just couldn’t do it. 

Bucky’s eyes danced between your own, as if he could read all of this in your expression. He let go of your thigh, crawling up your body and he slide a hand around your jaw, his fingers resting behind your ear, “Baby... you have nothing to worry about. You are absolutely gorgeous, so, so beautiful. Every single thing you do, it blows my mind.” He stroke his thumb over your cheek, “You can walk to me in sweatpants and my hoodie and I’m struck dumb.” 

You laughed a little despite yourself and he copied you, eyes lighting up when you did, “Having someone go down on you... it’s like the ultimate act of worshiping. You are in control. You tell me when to stop, pull me closer or push me away... On my knees for you, tasting you and taking you to that edge.” He cocked his head, “It’ll feel a little odd at first but when you’re used to it... Oh, doll, it’ll feel so good.” 

His words filtered around you, moving through you. 

You knew he was good at his craft, at reading your body. And you also knew he would never make you feel uncomfortable and he would always stop if you asked him to. 

And god, there was a part of you that so desperately wanted to feel it, to feel someone’s tongue between your folds, moving inside you, between your thighs...

An image came to you, his dark locks nestled between your thighs, rumbling moans vibrating against you as you arched above him...

“Okay.”

He blinked, perhaps not having expected you to accept so quickly., “Are you sure? If you’re not-“

You swallows, lifting your hand to his on your cheek, “I... I want to. Show me. Show me how good it feels.” 

Bucky looked deep into your eyes, checking for himself and when he seemed satisfied, he nodded gently. “Okay... Okay. If you feel uncomfortable, if it hurts or it’s too much, please tell me to stop. Use the safeword, hit the top of my head, kick me, anything. Okay?” 

God, he just cared so much didn’t he. 

Heart melting, you nodded again, a smile mixed of anticipation and a little bit of nervousness on your lips, “Okay. I promise.” 

Sndjcidks djcocks djckc

The approach of your impending third orgasm was almost painful, the heat in your belly tightening impossibly, every single muscle in your body locking up and screaming for release. 

Bucky was there, already reading it in your body and his free arm lifted from across your waist, reaching up and sliding through yours. 

You tightened your fingers around his cool metal ones, your hips now free. 

An instinct came over you, and you began to rock your hips against his face- 

Heat and shame flushed your cheeks and you opened your mouth to apologise, to try and stop your hips from moving - 

But then Bucky let out a rough moan that reverberated through your walls, through your clit and you realised - he liked it. He liked you fucking yourself on his tongue, smearing your slick over his chin and lips. 

Holy fucking god. 

You wanted this, you wanted this all the time, him all other time. 

Bucky rubbed harder at your clit, running tight circles and his tongued slide over your folds and then speared inside you, like white hot fire. The tip of his tongue stroked that spot, that spot that he seemed to have a direct route to and then - you were falling apart. 

Your orgasm barrelled down into you relentlessly, searing through your body and turning you to light and stars and something entirely ethereal. 

It felt like every cell in your body exploded, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you that just didn’t end. 

Bucky took it all, took every ride of your hips, every clench of your thighs around his head and he worked you through it, tongue lapping up your juices like a man starved as you came apart above him. 

He didn’t let you go, holding you steady in the whirlpool of pure sensation as you ever so slowly came down back to Earth. 

You panted softly, your eyes slowly opening to the familiar ceiling of your bedroom. 

Fucking hell. 

Fucking. Hell. 

A stunned laugh escaped your lips and you unclenched your fingers from Bucky’s hair, rubbing over your face. 

He pressed soft kisses to your thighs, trailing up your body and then lightly pressing his lips to yours. 

You could taste yourself on him, and it was intimate and a little filthy and god - you loved it. You loved him. 

Kissing him back with equal fervour, you couldn’t stop grinning. 

Bucky matched your wide smile, his body held up over yours and he brushed back your damp hair, “How do you feel?” Always looking out for you. He pulled away gently from your lips, trailing his mouth over your jaw. 

You chuckled again, breathlessly, “I feel... amazing. Like my body is singing.” You shook your head just slightly in awe, “I don’t know how I’ve gone so long without that. You’re fucking good...” 

You felt his shit-eating grin against your jaw, his teeth lightly nip your skin, “See... I told you. You deserve to be worshipped, baby. And I plan on doing it again and again, on my knees, under you, over you... like the goddess you are.” He brushed his lips over the shell of your ear, his voice a rough, husky whisper, “And I plan to carry on right now.”

The rest of the night fell away as he slipped back inside you effortlessly, and you climbed to the sky together again and again, and all you could think was... This was it. 

You’d only been with him for a few months but in that time he had shown you more than anyone ever had. He had lovingly and carefully peeled back your layers and revealed such a shining light beneath, the light that had always been there and he had seen since that first meeting. 

You wanted this forever, all the time. His love, his trust...

And his lips and tongue. 

[libraryofloveletters]

The Covid Crush

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: mentions of covid, injures and fires, a lil steamy make out session, mentions of babies and pregnancy, chim being disgusted by y’all (jokingly)

Category: fluff 

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: based on Buck’s “covid crush” 

---

The line rang a few times before he picked up. “Buck’s phone, you’ve reached.. Buck” he laughed making you smile. Even though he couldn’t see you, he always brought a smile to your face. 

“Hey you” you said, pushing the door shut with your foot. 

“Hey! Aren’t you at work ?” he asked, you could hear the voices on his end getting quieter with each step he took. 

“I’m on a break, I thought I'd call and check up on you. How are things at the station ? Is everyone okay ?” 

“Yeah, everyone’s alright for now. I’m good too, thanks for asking” you could practically hear him roll his eyes over the phone. “Oh, forgive me. How are you doing today, Evan ?” you laughed, “I'm good, I'm off at-” the bell went off. 

“That’s my cue, talk later?” he asked, the sound of his heavy footsteps jogging down what you could assume was the stairs. 

“Of course, be safe Buck” you said, “always.” he replied, ending the call.

Although you and Buck weren’t together, you still worried about him, especially with everything that was going on now. It was like your heart was out of your body and running aimlessly into fires everyday. You originally met Buck though his sister, Maddie because you worked with her at the call centre. Buck had come by to see her or pick her up, ending with the two of you bumping into each other. Over time, you became friends and hung out a few times, seeing each other at Maddie’s for game night too. You weren't sure when it turned into something more but you wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Maddie walked into the break room, “hey” she smiled at you, “hey” you took a sip of the coffee in front of you. 

“Is that coffee ?” she stopped in her tracks. 

“Yes it is, there’s a fresh pot” 

She made her way over to the coffee pot, “one cup Maddie, you know the rules” you mumbled, she shot you a glare. “not you too” she groaned, pouring the hot liquid into a mug. “Hey! I'm doing baby Buckley a favour here” you raised your hands playfully. “yea- wait, what did you just call my baby ?” she looked over at you once more, “baby Buckley ?” your brows furrowed, it wasn’t anything strange. 

“Y/n, have you been hanging out with Buck ?” 

“Your brother ? No, why ?” you lied to her, you didn't want to but the two of you made a promise to each other to keep your little conversations a secret. 

“He calls the baby, baby Buckley” she laughed

“Well it is a baby and you are a Buckley, so that makes sense” you smiled at her and got up, “gotta get back to work, see you out there?” you asked, she nodded. 

“Enjoy your coffee, one cup remember!” you hear her groan at your reminder as you walk back out. 

--

The phone rang, you were driving home from the call centre. Tumbling through the console in the middle, you find your phone. Buck’s cheesy contact picture popped up. It was some selfie he had sent you during the holidays of him dressed as Santa to help Eddie surprise Christopher. 

“Hello Evan” you answered his call, he groaned rather loudly. “Everything okay there, big guy ?” 

“y/n, what did I tell you about calling me Evan ?” he asked you, you laughed, “nothing worth mentioning my darling, how was your call ?” 

“It was fine, the regular day for me, pulling people out of burning buildings” he sighed. 

“Any injuries?” 

“Just a few bumps and bruises on the family but they’ll be fine” he replied made you smile, he could be so oblivious. You truly wondered how he was a firefighter sometimes. “That’s good but I was asking about you” you turned into your building parking lot. 

“Oh,” he laughed, “I'm fine, also a few bruises but nothing too bad” 

“Heading home for the day ?” 

“Uh, no. Eddie wants to get home to Chris so I'm picking up his shift for him.” 

“Oh, that's sweet of you Buck” 

The door opens on his end, you walk up the stairs to your apartment. “Is that your little covid crush?” you can hear Chim ask him, Buck groans. 

“Stop harassing me Chim, why don’t you go call your girlfriend or something?” Buck mumbles, Chim laughs. 

“Hi Buck’s friend, I'm Chim!” he shouts so you could hear him which made you laugh. “I’d tell you to tell him hi but I feel like that might get us in trouble won’t it ?” you asked as you kicked off your shoes. “Yeah, I'll talk to you later hun ?” he asked you. 

“Yeah, if you work overnight, call me tomorrow ?” 

“Of course” 

“Oh, Buck ?” 

“Yeah ? 

“Be safe” 

“Always.” 

--

It’s the crack of dawn, literally and your phone rings. The only person that could be calling you now had to be Buck. Squinting your eyes at the brightness of your phone, you pick up and groan. “Hm what is it ?” you mumbled, rolling back onto your side, your phone against your pillow. 

“Oh my bad, I thought you had work this morning, that’s why I called” he whispered, now realizing that he woke you up. “It’s cool,” you yawn, “going home now?” 

“Yeah, what's the plan for today ?” he asks, you hear the Jeep’s engine come to life. 

“Uh maybe some grocery shopping and catching up on Netflix. I have a shift tonight. What about you ?” 

“Maybe some sleep, a shower and back to work. Oh I also have to do groceries, Chim keeps eating everything in the house” he groans making you smile. 

“Why don't you just send him home? Maddie’s working too, he’ll be fine.” 

“I don't want to be mean, you know? He let me crash at his place. Speaking of Mads, how’s baby Buckley doing? you see her more than me” he chuckled, as do you, remembering your conversation with Maddie 

“Good, they’re both good. You know, I called the baby, baby Buckley and she asked if I had talked to you recently” 

“Hm, did you tell her no?” 

“No, I told yes” 

“What?!” 

“Buck, I'm kidding, relax” 

He let out a sigh which made you laugh. It wouldn’t be horrible if she knew but you guess he wanted to keep it on the lows, it's only fair that you respect that. There was a pause in the conversion, Buck was humming along to the song on the radio, soon enough he started singing. He was 100% off-key and you could hear the tapping along to the beat on his steering wheel as well. You laid in bed listening to him sing off key for a good few minutes until he called out to you. 

“You know, I could pick up some stuff from the store for you, if you wanted ? I can just drop it off later” you offered 

“That would be nice, thanks. But uh- maybe you could actually stay when you drop the stuff off ?” he asked 

“Don’t you have work?” you asked, the sound of his footsteps thudding up the stairs, you figured he got home. 

“Yeah, but if I’m an hour late, it’ll be fine” once again, there’s a pause in the conversation but it comes for your end this time. 

“Y/n?” the shower is running on his end, he sounded distant, the phone was on speaker. 

“Just checking my schedule, what time does your shift start ?” you question him

“9, what about you ?” 

“9:30. I’ll see you tonight Evan, enjoy your shower” 

“Sleep well babe” he hung up, you tossed your phone to the other side of the bed and went back to bed. 

-- 

Buck opened the door, taking the bags from you. “Come in, thanks for these” he raised the bags and rested them on the counter. 

“How much do I own you?” he asks, your back turned to him while you wash your hands. 

“Don’t worry about it” 

“No, c’mon, this is a lot” Buck leans against the counter, you turn towards him. There’s a little bruise on his cheek and a scratch mark by his chin, your hand comes up and cups his face. His hand wraps around your wrist as your thumb rubs the scratch mark on his chin, Buck turns his head slightly to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. 

“I’m okay” he whispers, his other hand finding your waist, pulling you closer to him, your chest against his. 

“I know, doesn't mean I don’t worry” your hand comes down from his face to his chest, both of your hands now resting on his chest as you look up at him. Buck’s arms wrap around you as he picks you up and spins you around. 

“Evan! Stop it!” you laughed, grabbing at his shirt, he sets you down on the counter. Buck stood between your legs, his hands rubbed at the sides of your thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist as his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “I take it, you missed me?” you mumbled with your face squished against Buck’s chest. “More than you know” he kissed the top of your head. 

Your phone buzzed, ruining your sweet moment. “Who is it ?” he asked, holding up the phone, the time was 8:45. “Alarm, I gotta go sweets, I have work soon” 

“Oh come on, you can be late one day, right ?” He kissed your forehead

“You have work too” you reminded him, he ignored your comment, kissing down from your forehead to your cheek. 

“Buck, don’t” you muttered as your hand came up to the back of his head, your fingers tangled in his hair. You knew the game he was playing and it was a dangerous one. 

“10 minutes” he mumbled, his lips against your skin, now moving down to your neck. 

“5 minutes” you bargained with him. Buck laughed and shook his head, “you know we’re gonna be here for more than 10 minutes right ?” His hands cupped your face as he leaned in for a kiss, one of your hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer to you, closing the gap between the two of you. Buck’s hands slid down from your face to your chest and then to your stomach, ending up on your hips. You pull on his shirt, he lets go of you for a moment to pull it off and then his lips are back on yours. 

The two of you are so wrapped up in each other that you don't notice the front door unlock, Chim walks in to find the two of you making out in the kitchen. Buck’s shirt is on the floor, Chim picks it up and tosses it at the two of you.

“Are you guys serious ?” he groans as he shuts the door. You pull away from Buck, a blush across your cheeks. “Hey Chim,” Buck laughed, pulling back on his shirt. “Thought you had work ?” Buck asks, Chim shakes his head. “I’m done, shift changes in an hour.” 

“You guys couldn't have made out in bed or something ? Like a normal couple ?” Chim asks, you and Buck reply at the same time, “we’re not a couple” the two of you look at each other and smile. 

“Whatever, but c’mon! I eat breakfast there guys, that’s gross” his face screwed with disgust making you laugh. “Sorry” you gave him a smile, looking over at him, now on his way to the bathroom. Buck’s hand comes up to your chin, pulling your attention back to him, his lips are on yours again. 

“You guys do know you're breaking the social distance regulations right now, right ?!” Chim shouted from the bathroom, you could hear him laughing. 

“Shut up!” Buck shouted back, his hands cupping your face and pulling you back in for another kiss. 

--- 

taglist: @ssa-volturi​ @dralexreid​

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Sing me a Lullaby (Bokuto Koutaro x Reader) Part 1

Wanings: Angst, regret, mentions of anxiety and depression. Proceed with caution.

You and Bokuto aren’t together. You haven’t even seen each other in person since high school.

You aren’t together, but when your phone lights up the peaceful shadows of your room at hours no dayshift human would consider respectable, there’s not a doubt in your mind who’s on the other end.

This dance has been happening for years, and never will you complain about hearing Koutaro’s voice, even though each time you hear it puts a nail in your coffin.

‘H-hey, how’s your day goin’?’

You’re well aware the owl knows how time zones work, there’s a crack in his voice, telling you exactly why he’s calling and tugging at your heart strings. Bokuto’s suffered from nightmares for years, it’s the one thing he wouldn’t tell anyone, except you and Akaashi.

‘’s good, Bokuto.’ The two of you were on last name basis, had stayed that way for years, even through the yearning to call each-other anything but your last names. ‘nother nightmare?’

Your sleepy slurring makes him smile, not that you can see it. These calls are never planned, you never see each other’s faces, but it’s enough for him to hear the gravel in your voice, the sleep in your eyes. He can imagine you, laid out under her soft comforter, like an angel pressed between clouds.

‘Yeah, bad time?’

‘cis never a bad time.’

He can practically hear the effort your making to keep your eyes open, hoping your drowsiness is contagious. Your tongue won’t even form words properly.

Bokuto lets out a groan, stretching out between crisp sheets, relishing in the feeling of soft cotton against his skin as he closes his eyes, and imagines your voice coming from the pillow beside him, not from halfway around the world. Beyond his black out curtains, the sun is rising. 

‘Sing me a lullaby?’

By now, he doesn’t need to ask, the tune is already vibrating your vocal chords as you sleepily start humming to him.

From here, it’s a game to see who falls asleep first, one neither of you wants to win, for whoever stays awake, pours their hearts out to nothing. It’s not every day you end up on the phone to each other, Bokuto thinks that somehow, if he calls you without a reason, you’ll know and stop answering.

These are the only times you talk, when there’s cold sweat gripping his brow and you’re barely awake enough to form words.

They’re the only moments in which one of you is completely honest.

Tonight, you won, or perhaps lost your little game. Light snores can be heard through the speaker, the little hiccups he lets out when he’s just drifted off make a sleepy smile curl your lips.

‘I wish you hadn’t left.’ You whisper into the empty air. ‘I wish I’d had the balls to go with you, but you were just so bright and perfect, all I ever did was stand in your glow.’

Bokuto would argue with you if he could, he’d tell you that you had your own shine, like he had in high school when your insecurities clung to your chest and made it so very hard to breathe. No one had known you as well as he did, not before, or since.

Now, this is all you are, whispered words you’re both too afraid to let the other hear. Once, you would have told each other everything.

Everything, except this. 

‘I love you.’ Tears gather in your eyes, but these particular tears were ones you would never let fall. Not now, when you had only yourself to blame for an average life, working from 9 to 5 at an office where no one gives a shit how anyone else is feeling. Whether or not you go into work the next day matters little to anyone, you’re just a face in the crowd.

You could have been someone, if you’d had the guts to reach out and try.

You’ve told Bokuto none of this, not while he’s awake, anyway.

He was out there, in the big wide world, pursuing his dreams, and though he’d left alone, he sure as hell isn’t alone any more. 

‘I love so much... good night, sweet dreams.’

‘I love you too.’

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for may 21 of 2024 with Proverbs 21 and Psalm 21, accompanied by Psalm 64 for the 64th day of Astronomical Spring, and Psalm 142 for day 142 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 21]

The king’s heart is like a channel of water directed by the Eternal:

He chooses which way He bends it.

Everyone may think his own way of living is right,

but the Eternal examines our hearts.

To do what is right and to seek justice—

these please Him more than sacrifice.

The lamp of the wicked lights his way;

a proud look, an arrogant heart—all sin.

A well-thought-out plan will work to your advantage,

but hasty actions will cost you dearly.

The fortune made by a swindler

is a fast-burning fog and a recipe for death.

Wicked people will be swept up in their own violence

because they refuse to seek justice.

Dishonest people walk along the crooked path they have made,

but the innocent travel the straight course they have laid.

It is better to dwell outside on the corner of your roof

than to live inside your house with a badgering wife.

Wicked people delight in doing bad things;

their neighbors never see even a hint of compassion.

A naive person wises up when he sees a mocker punished.

A wise person becomes even wiser just by being instructed.

The right-living understands how evildoers operate;

he subverts them and ruins their plans.

If you ignore the groans of the poor,

one day your own cries for help will go unanswered.

A gift given in secret soothes anger,

and a present offered privately calms fierce rage.

When justice is done, those who are in the right celebrate,

but those who make trouble are terrified.

People who wander from the way of wise living

will lie down in the company of corpses.

Those who live to party, who pursue pleasure, will end up penniless;

those who enjoy lots of wine and rich food will never have money.

The wicked become a ransom for those who live right,

and the faithless pay the penalty for their treachery against the upright.

You would be better off living in the middle of the desert

than with an angry and argumentative wife.

The wise have a generous supply of fine food and oil in their homes,

but fools are wasteful, consuming every last drop.

Whoever pursues justice and treats others with kindness

discovers true life marked by integrity and respect.

One wise person can rise against a city of mighty men

and cause the citadel they trust to collapse.

Guard your words, mind what you say,

and you will keep yourself out of trouble.

The name “mocker” applies to one who is proud and pompous

because he is defiantly arrogant.

What slackers crave will surely kill them

because they refuse to work.

All day, every day the greedy want more,

while those who live right give generously.

The offerings of wrongdoers are despicable to God;

it’s even worse when they bring them with evil motives.

The testimony of a false witness is eventually impeached,

but the person who truly listens will have the last word.

The wicked wears a defiant face,

but the right-living plans his path.

No one is wise enough or smart enough,

and no plan is good enough to stand up to the Eternal.

No matter how well you arm for battle,

victory is determined by Him.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 21 (The Voice)

[Psalm 21]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

The king is glad because You, O Eternal, are strong.

In light of Your salvation, he is singing Your name.

You have given him all he could wish for.

After hearing his prayer, You withheld nothing.

[pause]

True blessings You lavished upon the king;

a crown of precious gold You placed upon his head.

His prayer was to live fully. You responded with even more—

a never-ending life to enjoy.

With Your help, his fame and glory have grown;

You raise him high and cover him in majesty.

You shower him with blessings that last forever;

he finds joy in knowing Your presence and loving You.

For the king puts his trust in the Eternal,

so he will not be shaken

because of the persistent love of the Most High God.

King, your hand will reach for all your enemies;

your right hand will seize all who hate you.

When you arrive at the battle’s edge,

you will seem to them a furnace.

For the fire of the Eternal’s anger, the heat of His wrath

will burn and consume them.

You will cut off their children,

lop off the branches of their family tree.

The earth will never know them,

nor will they ever be numbered among Adam’s kin.

When they scheme against you,

when they conspire their mischief, such efforts will be in vain.

At the sight of you, they will sound the retreat;

your bows, drawn back, will aim directly at their faces.

Put Your strength, Eternal One, on display for all to see;

we will sing and make music of Your mighty power.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 21 (The Voice)

[Psalm 64]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

O True God, hear my voice! Listen to my complaint!

Guard my life; keep me safe from my enemy’s threats.

Hide me from the sinful circle that conspires against me,

from the band of rebels out to make trouble,

Who sharpen their tongues into swords,

who take aim with poisonous words like arrows.

They hide in the shadows and shoot at the innocent;

they shoot at them without warning and without any fear.

They persist in their evil purpose

and plan in secret to lay their traps.

And they say, “Who will see them?”

They plot their offense with precision and say,

“Now we have the perfect crime.”

The human heart and mind are deep and complex.

But without hesitation the True God will shoot at them;

His arrow will surely wound them.

He will use their very own words to bring them to destruction;

all who see will be appalled at what happens to them.

Then everyone will fear the True God;

they will proclaim His deeds

and will reflect upon all He has done.

The righteous will delight in the Eternal

and will take shelter in Him.

All those with an honest heart will glorify Him!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 64 (The Voice)

[Psalm 142]

A contemplative prayer of David while he hid in a cave.

I call out loudly to the Eternal One;

I lift my voice to the Eternal begging for His favor.

I let everything that’s going wrong spill out of my mouth;

I spell out all my troubles to Him.

When my spirit buckled under the burdens I bear,

You knew my way.

They conspired to trip me up and trap me

on the path where I was walking.

Take a look around and see—to the right, to the left—

no one is there who cares for me.

There’s no way out of here;

no one cares about the state of my soul.

You are the One I called to, O Eternal One.

I said, “You’re the only safe place I know;

You’re all I’ve got in this world.

Oh, let me know that You hear my cry

because I’m languishing and desperate;

Rescue me from those who torment me

because there’s no way I can stand up to them;

they are much too strong for me.

Lift my captive soul from this dark prison

so I may render to You my gratitude;

Then Your righteous people will gather around me

because You will treat me with astounding goodness.”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 142 (The Voice)

[ptergwen]

warmer than cuddles

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: may plays matchmaker and makes some suggestive jokes

prompt: you and peter get caught in the rain and have to share an umbrella

a/n: thank youuu to the angel who requested <3 swear this is my favorite trope to write hehe ☔️

-

one of the many things you and peter have in common is being lazy. it’s sort of the basis of your friendship. you’re not the kids who drink or party or get in trouble. you play board games and eat pizza on his ripped up couch. the riskiest thing you’ve ever done is sneak into a movie.

peter was so paranoid you’d get caught, he couldn’t even pay attention. he kept whispering to you about paying the whole time. you had to drag him out by his hand after the movie ended. the next time you went to that theater, he bought an extra ticket to “make it even.”

that about put an end to your trying new things phase. you went right back to your comfy nights in pajamas. tackling each other for the remote, baking terrible cookies that you just throw out, sharing a blanket to stay warm. what also helps is that you cuddle under it.

all the fun you need is you, peter, and your love for doing nothing. may disagrees.

she’s always trying to get you two out of the apartment. in her words, it’s “unhealthy for developing teens to spend so much time cooped up inside.” peter once asked which mother’s facebook group she joined. you snickered at that. may gave you a warning look.

well, you don’t have a choice to stay in today. she’s kicking you and peter out because she has guests coming over.

“it’s girl’s night,” may tells the two of you with a satisfied smirk. she hangs her raincoat on the rack and comes into the living room. peter squints his eyes at her. “you have friends?” he sounds too surprised for your liking. you flick his arm hard enough to make him go “ouch!”

“peter, we only have, like, four friends. that’s counting ourselves,” you inform him with a laugh. peter drops his head onto your shoulder. “and i don’t need any of them but you,” he says sarcastically, rubbing his cheek on your sweatshirt. “aw, i know,” you coo and rest your head on his. may crosses her arms and shrugs.

“you should do a group play date with everyone! i haven’t heard from ned in a while,” she suggests, your eyes flicking over to peter. he’s biting back a grin. “play date?” you try to stifle a laugh when you ask. “you know what i mean. a hang out,” may nods at her better word choice. peter winces in protest.

“eh, ned will probably wanna go out somewhere. we don’t do that,” he tells may, like that’s a completely normal thing for a teenager to say. you raise a finger in agreement. she laughs in disbelief at you and peter. you’re splayed out on the couch, on a saturday, complaining about doing anything else.

“you two make me feel young.” may’s words are a joke, but her tone isn’t. “you are young, may,” you reassure her and smile a little. peter says nothing. his eyes become hooded as he settles into you more. “look at you two, like some old married couple,” may gestures to you from where she’s standing. she smiles this time.

peter’s face gets hot from the mention of you being a couple. your heart skips a couple of beats. you’re pretty sure he can tell from how close he is.

“do whatever you want, just not here,” she gets back to the real conversation. peter hides his entire face in your shoulder as a form of protest. you pat his back. “and not each other. unless you’re safe,” may adds. “may, please. no,” he groans out, positive he’s all red now. you blink at her in horror.

may knows what she’s doing. peter isn’t the most subtle person, especially not about liking someone. she’s learned all the signs that her nephew is falling. he’s falling for you. she sees it in you, too. the way your eyes soften when they meet peter’s, how fast you are to hug him back or beam at the silly things he says.

you two spend so much time apart from your other friends, you basically are a couple. you’re just not old or married. the only thing you need is a push to realize that.

“ok, we’re gonna go now,” peter decides and pulls away from you. “god bless,” you say only so he can hear. he chuckles at that, you getting up from the couch. giving him a knowing smile, you grab one of his hands. he lets you pull him to his feet while exhaling. he’s already exhausted. may watches and shakes her head.

peter walks up to give her a quick hug. “enjoy girl’s night. love you,” he murmurs as she squeezes him tight. even though they tease each other a lot, their relationship is really sweet. it’s very telling how a guy treats his mother. well, aunt in this case. that thought has always been in the back of your mind.

“have fun!” you grin at may when her and peter pull apart. he comes back over to you and tugs on your sleeve. “thanks, kids. we’ll be done around eleven,” she lets you know. you’re already getting your shoes on and ready to leave. eleven is a while from now.

“don’t forget an umbrella! it’s drizzling!” may calls after you two. peter grabs hers that’s leaning against the front door. it’s pink with purple polka dots. you giggle at that. “hey, i like pink,” he defends himself and opens the door, letting you out first. you raise your hands in defense, leaving the apartment.

peter waves at may one last time. “good luck, peter,” she tells him once you reach the stairs. he furrows both eyebrows. “good luck with what?” “you’ll see,” may raises her own eyebrows in a way that’s all too familiar to peter. he calls it her face of wisdom.

still confused, peter heads out. he finds you at the bottom of the stairs. you shove your hands in your pockets and push against the door to open it. peter meets you outside, twirling the umbrella between his fingers.

“is there anywhere you wanna go?” he asks as you start to walk. you’re just going down the block for now. “back upstairs,” you sigh out. “i wish. not an option, though,” peter puffs some air out of his cheeks. you fumble to pull up your hood. he easily reaches over and does it for you.

“thanks,” you say quietly. “you’re welcome,” peter pats the top of your head for emphasis. “we could just walk around.” “until eleven o’clock? that’s five hours from now,” you laugh out, adjusting your hoodie to block your face. disappointment crosses over his features.

“should’ve brought my suit,” he mutters mostly to himself. linking your arm with his, your eyes widen. “i’m not trusting you to swing me around in this weather.” his bicep flexes when your arm wraps around his own. “what? i’ve done it before, y/n/n. on patrol.” you turn your head towards him.

“didn’t you get hurt last time?” you already know the answer. “sprained wrist and a few cuts,” he grumbles, you humming because you’re right. he’d called you in tears when he got home, scared he broke something. you reminded him he would heal soon and stayed on the phone until he calmed down.

that ended up being the whole night. you’re probably the most supportive of peter being spider-man. you of course worry about the toll it takes, but you understand why he does it. the least you can do is be there for him while he navigates the superhero world. not talk him out of it or scold him for making mistakes, be there.

that’s why he loves his lazy days with you so much. they’re his break, his escape from what he lies awake worrying about most nights. you’ve seen what he has to go through, so you respect that. whatever he needs to do to unwind is fine by you. as long as you get to do it with him.

“then you couldn’t patrol for weeks. you could barely hold a pencil.” your other arm sneaks around his. they’re both hugging him now. “you had to be my note taker,” peter reminisces, a smile making its way onto his face. “that sucked, man. you’re such a perfectionist about them,” you breathe out.

peter flips the umbrella around in a show-off kind of way. “you don’t complain when i send them to you.” he sounds so cocky you can’t help but roll your eyes. he isn’t wrong, though. “whatever. seriously, where should we go?” “uh,” peter’s eyes scan the block for inspiration. they land on a man carrying takeout.

“dinner? not at a restaurant since we’re in sweats,” he adds the last part so you don’t have to. “ooh, let’s go to panera,” you happily squeeze his arm. peter quirks an eyebrow at you. “you’re always hungry after.” “so? we can get dessert, too. we have a while.” that makes his heart flutter. a while with you.

“cool, cool, cool,” he sings to you, leaning into your side as you walk. you giggle and push at his shoulder. “i think we can make it there before the rain picks up.” there’s a clap of thunder right after he says that, like something out of a movie. it’s followed by a heavier rain coming down on you two. you pull at the strings of your hoodie to keep it tighter on your head.

“jinxed it,” you remark, both of you stopping so peter can open the umbrella. “ugh,” he grunts out. his lower lip is between his teeth while he undoes the velcro. he pushes down and watches as the umbrella springs open for you two. “here, c’mere,” peter welcomes you under as he holds it above your heads.

it doesn’t quite fit you both since it’s only meant for one person. you forgot he took may’s. the two of you have to squish together so you can avoid the rain, which is pitter pattering down hard on the sidewalk.

you’re comfortable under here with him. the freezing cold weather outside of the umbrella is hardly an issue anymore.

peter turns to face you, letting out a breathless laugh. “you can take off your hood now.” your arms slip from around his. you remove it from your head and give him a toothy grin. it’s one that’s meant to be over exaggerated. “there’s that pretty face,” peter’s voice gets quieter. unlike what you did, that wasn’t a joke.

your pretty face loses its smile. you’re suddenly very aware of how close peter is to you.

you can see the faint scar on his chin from when he banged it into a wall in your living room. he’d ran straight into it during your two person game of hide and seek. yes, you still play that. it was gushing blood for half an hour.

there are also the thousands of freckles dotting his face, the ones you only notice by looking at him super hard. you try to count them whenever you get bored. peter stares back at you while you fall in love with every tiny detail about him.

he takes the time to admire your lips, not just because they look really kissable right now. because of every curious expression they press into when he does something you can’t believe. your eyes, that he feels a sense of safety and honesty and familiarity every time he looks into. he finds them and feels like he’s home.

“peter?” you speak up after a few moments. your tone is hesitant, as if whatever you’re going to ask will change what you have forever. that’s because it might. it’s silent except for the sound of the rain hitting his umbrella. peter finally answers, almost in a whisper. “yeah?”

“i... i think,” you clear your throat before going on. his eyes trail down to your lips again, then back up to your twinkling ones. even on a gloomy day like this, they could light up the whole sky. “i think i love you,” you get out, a hand over your racing heart. peter gives you a small but sure nod. “i think i love you, too.”

he takes a step closer to you, if that’s even possible. his hand without the umbrella comes up to hold your cheek. you watch as he uses his thumb to wipe away a few stray rain droplets. your head tilts to the side, lips parted on instinct. peter leans in until his lips just brush yours, letting you decide what comes next.

you choose to close the space between you two. his eyes squeeze shut, whole face scrunched up when he kisses back. this is a release of all the emotions he’s been holding in that he didn’t even realize he had. you slip into a rhythm, using the angle to move your lips against peter’s.

his hand drops from your cheek to your jaw to support you while you kiss. your own hands grab his biceps, fingers pressing into him, depesrate to have him in your arms. peter lets out a content sigh against your lips before detaching them. it’s not for long. he comes right back in after taking a breath.

you get one long peck from him, then another that’s softer than the last. you give him a short kiss back, lips curving into a smile when this one ends. peter’s thumb smooths over your jawline while he searches for your eyes. he grins at you and tightens his grip on the umbrella handle. he’s surprised it didn’t blow away in the midst of your mini makeout.

“i definitely love you, peter,” you state so genuinely, hands on his shoulders now. that has to be peter’s favorite sentence he’s ever heard. the most beautiful combination of words, said by you to him. “i definitely love you, y/n,” peter agrees, punctuating his statement with one last kiss. you haven’t stopped smiling when his lips meet the corner of yours.

may was right about two things that night. you needed the umbrella for that huge storm, but it did more than protect your from the rain. it also brought you and peter together in a way. the second thing she was right about was that peter loves you, and every feeling he has mirror yours for him.

actually, she was right about three things. you two have to get out of the apartment more often.