#cold blue bastard named dinner

[a-dog-with-a-blog-5]

#hot pink bitch named breakfast #cold blue bastard named dinner #dog speaks #chiuahua #dogs #dogblr #memes #shitpost #dogposting #shit

[madame-fear]

My lovely lady wife,

I think we know what I’m about to request for. A little Aemond fic on what I told you because Aemond being possessive..🤭

Arguing over reader having a dance with Lucerys or Aegon, but then turns sweet after reader snaps at him, telling him that she’s devoted to him?

Pretty please? (I love you!!❤️)

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 .ೃ࿐

★ amira speaks! : My sweet darling Vinca, an honour to receive your requests as always! ❤ Please enjoy this and hope it was what you expected. I was inspired by the dialogue you sent me on some of the dialogues in here 🤭 Ily sm honey !! 💕 — summary : [ — ✧ request ] — word count : 1.6k ꒰ა ✧ additional note ; title is based on the song “come to me” by björk. 💗

— pairing : jealous/possesive!aemond targaryen x reader — genre : a bit of arguing, but then turns into fluff.

“It was just one dance, Aemond!” your shouting echoed through the dimly lit halls, going after Aemond, behind of him.

Patience was a virtue that lately began to heavily hang from a thin string for the One Eyed Prince; and the arrival of his bastard nephews, the Velaryon boys, back again to King’s Landing wasn’t making things any easier for him... And mostly, for his usual possesiveness around you.

Not that the presence of both boys itself bothered him. Quite the contrary, his natural self around them was to tease and make them upset on purpose, constantly reminding them how everyone knew they were merely bastard sons; “Strong” boys, as he would refer to them. But the problem was, when the betrothal dinner had arrived.

While Helaena took the hand of the eldest Velaryon, Jacaerys, for a dance after she made a subtle remark on how her brother-husband Aegon ignored her, Lucerys stood up from his seat, and offered his own hand to you for a dance. Such act was merely out of the usual polite and gentleness that identified the future Lord of Driftmark, but Aemond couldn’t help but silently seethe with overwhelming jealousy at the sight of you giggling and dancing with Lucerys Velaryon.

Lucerys. His bastard nephew. The one that had made fun of him with a pig as a young boy when Aemond had not yet claimed Vhagar, and the same nephew that had taken out his eye. How could someone as himself so pridefully offer his hand out to you, out of all the people, right in front of his face? And what was worse, was that YOU had taken it, only to notoriously have fun with the young Velaryon bastard.

And that could only lead to you having to chase after him through the large halls of King’s Landing, shouting out his name for him to listen to what you had to say. His usual stoic face now shouted an expression of pure grimace, feeling as if he were to lose himself to a burdening sensation of posessiveness towards you.

Aemond couldn’t even bare when his brother Aegon was too drunk to the point he started flirting with you, or using sexual innuendos — but seeing you dance so gracefully with Lucerys, the nephew he despised wholeheartedly, was the least of things Aemond could possibly tolerate.

“Aemond!” you kept shouting, “Seven Hells, would you even care to listen to me?!” his steps had turned nearly into harsh stomping, feeling your own legs get tired from the heavy rushing towards him.

As you were nearly reaching him, trying to place your hand on his arm to catch his attention, the One Eyed prince abruptly stopped on his steps and turned around to face you. Out of surprise at his sudden actions, you made a few steps backwards.

“I don’t need to listen to anything.” he retorted, with a monotone, yet cold voice tone. The stare on his blue eye hinted a fiery jealousy that abruptly ignited on him, you crossed your arms tightly against your chest. “And most certainly, I don’t need to hear you talking about how you accepted the hand of my bastard nephew to dance with him right in front of me!” his voice raised its tone, notoriously sounding angrier by the minute.

You had to admit, you were both frustrated and surprised by his sudden outburst. While you knew Aemond could be rather overprotective of you — especially ever since you had taken care of him after the incident with his eye —, you had never seen him acting in such... A possesive manner. “To which, I remind you: he owes me his eye.”

Your lips were partly open, about to protest against his sayings, as your brows knitted in confusion at the way Aemond behaved towards the situation. “I was only being polite to him, Aemond!” you snapped at him, shouting louder. “What was supposed to do, turn him down right in front of everyone?!”

You understood that Lucerys was certainly trying to be as polite and gentle as his brother Jacaerys was with women, and you saw no issue with that. But apparently Aemond did.

“You should have, yes!” your hands both went to your face, immediatly letting your head fall against your palms, releasing a muffled frustrated huff at his answer. You then fluttered your eyes open, going back to face him. Your heart loudly pounded against your chest from the adrenaline of the situation, loudly arguing with one another; being loud enough as for your voices to echo around the halls.

“I can’t believe you,” you said, with your eyes furrowed. “That was literally the most attention I have ever paid to any of the Velaryon boys!” pointing your index finger at him, you continued. “And you are making such a fuss over that?” while his lips opened to speak against you, you rapidly interrupted him, feeling bold enough to confront him. How could Aemond be so oblivious to the way you were entirely devoted to him, and only him?

“It was one dance.” you remarked, lowering your quivering voice. “And while you may have lost an eye, Aemond, that does not mean you are blind.” hearing your words made his grimly jealous expressions turn into an intrigued one. You sighed, allowing the hand that was pointing at him with your finger to fall by your side in a swift manner.

“I only accepted the dance out of politeness, but did I kiss Lucerys, or anyone else? No, I have not.” you began remarking, feeling relieved that Aemond seemed to attentively listen to you without making too much of a fuss. “Did I fuck him, or anyone else? Yet again, I have not.” a soft huff spurred from your nose, looking at him in disbelief.

“Do I ever stroll with anyone else in the gardens, spending hours talking with one another, like I do with you? No, I don’t.” leisurely, his face softened, hearing how the tense atmosphere seemed to switch into a more tranquil one. “I have never read to anyone else in the gardens, except with you. I have never cheered for anyone else in their swordtraining, except with you.” you continued, trying to discreetly build the point to him.

“I could never spend hours comforting anyone else, like I comforted you when you lost your eye. I have never cared for anyone else like I genuinely care for you. I never even cared to fix my gaze on someone that isn’t you, Aemond.” the initial angry frustration softly washed away from you, even if you could still feel the thrill of it pumping through your veins.

Perhaps it was true. He could have overreacted just a little bit — more than extremely, actually — to the situation. But how could he not be possesive over you, when you had such remarking, exceptional qualities that any man could possibly long for in a woman?

It had always been you the one braiding his hair playfully, it was you the one who comforted him whenever he felt angry, or outraged... It was you the one who always cheered and clapped for him when his skills in swordtraining became better each time; occasionally tossing Ser Criston’s own sword to the ground merely to impress you, and hear you root for him proudly.

Walking a few steps towards him, you lifted your sight to his eye, staring profoundly at him. A soft, quivering sigh escaped from him. Faintly, a rosy tint crept on his pale skin gently. “How can you not realise, it is you the one I truly adore? The one I am most devoted to?” the sound of your voice nearly made him melt, especially when you raised your hand to his cheek, and tenderly stroked it with the tip of your thumb.

A scoff spurred from his rosy lips, with a little sheepish grin tuggig at the corner of his lips. He was used to being possesive and jealous over you, but those feelings of adoration — now mutually felt — were always kept to himself. The One Eyed Prince was absolutely clueless on how to express his feelings towards you, to which, he preferred that saying nothing at all would be much better.

“I should have known it sooner.” he muttered, sounding a slight tone of disbelief at himself. It was just too obvious for someone such as himself to not realise. You scoffed, smiling at him as you shook your head lightly. A certain pride filled you, as your skin could feel his own heated cheek from the fluster under your touch.

Without hesitating, you tiptoed as his presence towered your own, and your free hand went to cup his other cheek. Awkwardly — yet a bit needily — his arms went around your waist sweetly, pulling you closer to his body. Fluttering your eyes shut, your lips locked against his own. And Gods, your lips were as sweet-tasting as he had always imagined they would be.

You kept your lips pressed against his own for what seemed an eternity, despite it being a minute, almost. His way of kissing you was soft, yet, it became a bit more deep and intense as the time progressed. Reluctantly, you had to pull away from him, despite him trying to inconsciously encourage you to keep going.

As you pulled apart, with your hands on his cheeks, a prideful grin was seen on his lips. Perhaps being jealous and possesive had its own perks, after all. A soft chuckle spurred from your lips gracefully, moving your hand lower to caress his jaw with the tip of your finger. There was something sweet in seeing how he could act just like a fiery, possesive dragon, but turn into an endearing puppy that melted at your touch. At that touch of yours he so longed.

“But now you know,” you whispered, caressing his skin delicately. “And I don’t care if I have to spell it out for you.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@keiratonks @kyuupidwrites @tchatso zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @hopelesswritergall @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @dragon430 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #prince aemond x reader #aemond one eye x reader #aemond the kinslayer x reader #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen x you

[leoniestarlee]

Illyrian Assassin (17)

Pairing: Azriel x OC

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: past trauma, slow burn

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16)

--

We watched as the last mortal left in her carriage before Rhys knocked on the door. The light was already fading, and the world outside was thick with shades of blue and white and grey, stained gold as Feyre opened the front door and found us waiting.

Rhys’ brows lifted. “You’d think they’d been told plague had befallen the house.”

Feyre pulled the door open wide enough to let us in, then quickly shut it against the bitter cold. “My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.”

I pulled down the hood of my white coat as Cassian let out a low whistle. I turned in place, surveying the grand entry hall, the ornate furniture, and the paintings.

“Your father must be a fine merchant,” Cassian said. “I’ve seen castles with less wealth.”

“My father is away on business—and attending a meeting in Neva about the threat to Prythian.”

“Prythian?” I said, twisting toward her. “Not Hybern?”

“It’s possible my sisters were mistaken—your lands are foreign to them. They merely said, ‘above the wall’. I assumed they thought it was Prythian.”

Azriel came forward on feet as silent as a cat’s. “If humans are aware of the threat, rallying against it, then that might give us an advantage when contacting the queens.”

“Come,” Rhys said, offering Feyre a subtle, understanding nod before motioning to lead the way. “Let’s make this introduction.”

Azriel stayed close to my side as Feyre crossed the room, the four of us a step behind and we spotted Elain and another woman by the window.

The sisters looked to Feyre and then they took in the winged faeries—or the two of them. Rhys’ wings had vanished, while mine were…non-existent.

The two females both stiffened at Cassian and Azriel, as those mighty wings tucked in tight to powerful bodies, at the weapons, and then at the devastatingly beautiful faces.

The older sister whom we didn’t know the name of, took a not-so-subtle step in front of Elain, and ducked her fisted hand behind her simple, elegant amethyst gown. The movement did not go unnoticed by me as I sent her a small grin.

Feyre said to us, “My sisters, Nesta, and Elain Archeron.” 

The sisters did not curtsy.

“Cassian,” Feyre said, inclining her head to the left. Then shifted to the right as Azriel took a step closer to my back, placing a hand on the side of my waist as I stiffened. “Azriel and Aurora.” She then half turned to my bastard brother. “And High Lord Rhysand, of the Night Court.”

Rhys bowed to the sisters as I tried not to snort, leaning back into Az. “Thank you for the hospitality—and generosity,” he said with a warm smile. But there was something strained in it.

Elain tried to return the smile but failed.

And Nesta just looked at the four of us, then at Feyre, and said, “The cook left dinner on the table. We should eat before it goes cold.” She didn’t wait for any agreement before striding off—right to the head of the polished cherry table.

Elain rasped, “Nice to meet you,” before hustling after her.

“This should be fun,” I whispered to Az.

Cassian was grimacing as we trailed them, Rhys’ brows were raised, and Azriel looked more inclined to blend into the nearest shadow and avoid this conversation altogether.

Nesta was waiting at the head of the table, a queen ready to hold court. Elain trembled in the upholstered, carved wood chair to her left.

Feyre did us all a favor and took the one to Nesta’s right. I stepped out of Azriel’s hold, claiming the spot beside Elain, who clenched her fork as if she might wield it against me and Cassian sat next to me. Rhys slid into the seat beside Feyre, Azriel on his other side.

“A fork won’t do much to me,” I softly said to Elain who blanched, and I cringed, realizing I could’ve worded that better. “Maybe you should invest in an ash dagger,” I suggested as Cassian snorted.

A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork, but he kept silent as we both focused on Cassian who was subtly trying to adjust his wings around the human chair, making me fight away a laugh.

Feyre yanked the lids off the various dishes and casseroles. Poached salmon with dill and lemon, whipped potatoes, roast chicken with beets and turnips, and some casserole of eggs, game meat, and leeks.

We all scooped food onto our plates, the sound filling the tense silence. I would have taken anything to be back at Velaris with my girls than at the dinner with Feyre’s sisters.

Rhys was digging into his chicken without hesitation. Cassian, Azriel, and I ate as if we hadn’t had a meal in moths. Being warriors, though, had given us the ability to see food as strength.

“Is there something wrong with our food?” Nesta said flatly to Feyre and slowed down my eat, watching them.

Feyre made herself take another bite. “No.” She swallowed and gulped down a healthy drink of water. 

“So you can’t eat normal food anymore—or are you too good for it?” A question and a challenge.

Rhys’ fork clanked on his plate. Elain made a small, distressed noise from beside me.

Feyre laid her hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”

My food dropped off my fork and onto the plate as Cassian choked on his water. Azriel shifted on his seat, angling to spring between them if need be.

Nesta let out a low laugh.

Rhys didn’t so much as blink at Feyre before he said evenly to Nesta, “If you ever come to Prythian, you will discover why your food tastes so different.” 

Nesta looked down her nose at him. “I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”

“Nesta, please,” Elain murmured.

Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent.

Then, Mother above, Nesta shifted her attention to Cassian, noticing that gleam—what it meant. She snarled softly, “What are you looking at?”

I gripped my fork tighter as I stared at Nesta. “Watch your tone with my brother,” I snarled back, making Feyre stiffen as Azriel and Rhys shared a worried glance.

Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now as he gripped my arm softly and stared at Nesta. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out in the forest, so close to the wall. Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

“How does an older sister sit on their ass and watch their youngest sister risk her life?” I questioned Nesta, thinking back to my own sisters at home who I’d never allow to do what Nesta allowed Feyre to do—to risk. “An older sister doesn’t let their youngest sister risk their life because you refused to get a damn job.” I sent a narrowed look to Nesta and Elain.

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied me and then Cassian’s handsome features. Then she turned to Feyre. Dismissing us entirely.

Cassian’s face went almost feral. A wolf who had been circling a doe…only to find a mountain cat wearing its hide instead. I lightly kicked his leg under the table, stopping him from making a stupid mistake as he let go of me.

Elain’s voice wobbled as she noted the same thing and quickly said to him, “It…it is very hard, you understand, to…accept it.” She casted pleading eyes on Rhys, then Azriel, then me, such mortal fear coating her features, her scent. “We are raised this way. We hear stories of your kind crossing the wall to hurt us. Our own neighbor, Clare Beddor, was taken, her family murdered…”

Rhys was staring at his plate. Unmoving. Unblinking.

Elain said, “It’s all very disorienting.”

“I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian and I flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on Elain, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit. 

I looked at him with shock, my lips parted as I tried to wrap my mind around his smile. So rarely did he ever smile at anyone else out of our little family. And yet, he’d just met Elain and was smiling at her.

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, maybe even me, but I wouldn’t know because I couldn’t take my eyes off Azriel who avoided look to me, “And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.”

“You could’ve learned like your sister did,” I said, turning my attention to Elain. “You think she wasn’t scared going into those woods alone at such a young age?” I aimed my question at Nesta who said nothing, her back rigid.

“Rory,” Rhys murmured in quiet warning. I looked away from the sisters, turning to Rhys who gave me a pointed look that I rolled my eyes at.

Feyre gripped Nesta’s arm, drawing her attention to her. “Can we just…start over?”

Nesta merely hissed, “Fine.” And went back to eating.

Cassian watched every bite she took, every bob of her throat as she swallowed.

I looked back to Az, wondering what he was thinking about as he sneaked at glance at Elain and my heart throbbed with a painful beat. It wasn’t until Cassian nudged me that I had finally looked away, fixing my eyes on my plate.

Elain said to Azriel, “Can you truly fly?”

He set down his fork, blinking. “Yes. Cassian, Rory, and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of wind.”

And I leaned further back into my chair as Cassian sent me a sorrowed look, placing his hand over mine in comfort—that I very much needed.

“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“It is sometimes,” Azriel said. Cassian tore his attention from me long enough to nod his agreement. “If you are caught in a storm, if the current drops away. But we are trained so thoroughly that the fear is gone before we’re out of swaddling.” And yet, Azriel had not been trained until long after that.

“You look like High Fae,” Nesta cut in, her voice like a honed blade. “But you are not?”

“Only the High Fae who look like them,” Cassian drawled, waving a hand to Feyre and Rhys, “are High Fae. Everyone else, any other difference, mark you as what they like to call ‘lesser’ faeries.”

I sat up, clearing my throat. “It’s become a term used for ease, but makes a long, bloody history of injustices. Many lesser faeries resent the term—and wish for us all to be called one thing.”

“Rightly so,” Cassian said, drinking from his water.

Nesta surveyed Feyre. “But you were not High Fae—not to begin. So what do they call you?”

Rhys said, “Feyre is whoever she chooses to be.”

Nesta said, “Write your letter to the queens tonight. Tomorrow, Elain and I will go to the village to dispatch it. If the queens do come here,” she added, casting a frozen glare at Cassian and I, “I’d suggest bracing yourselves for prejudices far deeper than ours. And contemplating how you plan to get us all out of this mess should things go sour.”

“We’ll take that into account,” Rhys said smoothly.

Nesta went on, utterly unimpressed by any of us, “I assume you’ll want to stay the night.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, then yes,” Feyre said. “We’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow.”

Nesta didn’t smile, but Elain beamed. “Good. I think there are a few bedrooms ready—”

“We’ll need two,” Rhys interrupted quietly. “Next to each other, with two beds each.”

Feyre narrowed her brows at him as Cassian moved his hand away from mine and I sipped my water.

“Magic is different across the wall,” Rhys explained to Feyre. “So our shields, our senses, might not work right. I’m taking no chances. Especially in a house with a woman betrothed to a man who gave her an iron engagement ring.”

I darted my eyes to Elain who flushed a bit. “The—the bedrooms that have two beds aren’t next to each other,” she murmured.

Feyre said softly, “We’ll move things around. It’s fine. Mr. Old,” she added with a glare in Rhys’ direction, “is only cranky because he’s old and it’s past his bedtime.”

Rhys chuckles, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease of proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.

@waytoomanyteenagefeels

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #cassian #cassian acotar #shadowsinger #rhysand #oldersister #wattpad #wattpad writer #night court #illyrian #friends to lovers #found family #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #acotar x reader #azriel x oc #acotar x oc

[villafordefeatedvillains]

Our hobby is taking Bad-End VRV Gordons and making them even MORE fucked up, apparently. WOE, cold blue bastard named Dinner be upon ye.

#hlvrv fanart #hlvrv au #oc: heartache #giving our fan gordons oc tags okay? #btw his mascara's not actually running he does his makeup like that on purpose #he based his outfit off of benrey's to mock him #benrey and spork are on the run w/ joshua in this au #proton ocs #pictures in the sand

[forgwater]

Give and Take

Silver Bullet AU -Azul-

Silver Bullet AU by @jackplushie

Hope you enjoy!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azul Ashengrotto.

Many know of his name and you are no exception.

Well, it's hard to forget this man's name when you keep seeing his face at the bar's counter. And not only that, but he keeps trying to talk to you.

Carefully chosen, honey coated words escape through his lips. Traps waiting for you to slip. Just one mistake. That's all it takes.

"Why not sell the bar to me?" he asks again... for the fifth time this week alone. And it's only Wednesday.

"I can promise to pay you a better salary! I'll draft you a contract guaranteeing it!" the blue-eyed man offers.

He just won't give up, would he?

"All I want in return is for you to keep working here." an arrogant smile forms on lips. Ah, that salesman's grin of his... How you'd love to wipe it off his face.

"I assure you, I am an excellent and lenient boss." With a hand placed upon his chest he continues:

"And let's not talk about all the other establishments I manage. You'd be hard pressed to find someone bett- ahem, I mean, more competent than me." again with that incessant chatter of his.

Really, this man loves nothing more than to talk your ear off.

"I can renovate the place. Completely." he then leans closer "I'll let you make some choices, of course!" you could swear you saw his stupid grin widen.

"I mean, it wouldn't do well for business if the bartender doesn't look like they enjoy the job." what a self-satisfied bastard.

You deadpan as you begin to wonder just how blind is this man, truly.

"We can discuss it all over dinner, if you'd like." he smiles, slightly more genuine this time. Something seems to be stirring in his beautiful eyes. Just for a moment.

Then he returns back to his usual self, smirking as if he just won a game of cards.

Just why did he have to be this damn persistent?! He just won't let you go, will he?!

"No, thank you." you firmly reply. "I'm certain you can already see just how much I "love" my current job." the sarcasm radiates off of you, all while giving him the most forced smile you could muster.

And as you turn away to prepare another drink he begins to speak again:

"It wasn't a question." his voice is clean and crisp... and dangerous.

A warning.

You freeze for a moment, blood running cold. Turning back slowly, you rise an eyebrow as if to question him. 'Don't show weakness.' is what you tell yourself.

"We'll go on a date, you'll sell me the bar and then things will progress nice and smooth."

An extended hand.

A demand, not invitation.

"There is a lot of give and take in business and relationships, my dear." his airy chuckle resounds in the now empty bar as he beckons you closer.

It looks like you don't have mush of a choice anymore.

#silver bullet au #twst au #twst silver bullet au #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst

[the-illiterate-pirate]

Remember when I said I was taking a break? Me neither. I crave attention. Proofreading is so boring and makes me want to tear my hair out, but it proves to be worth it! I didn't like this too much at first but after checking it over and doing a bit of editing I think this turned out pretty okay! As an SBR simp I think it's customary to post some Diego monster porn. Enjoy ♡

Moonage Daydream

Notes: Fem!reader, nsfw, feral british bastard, monster fucking? breeding kink, overstimulation, teeth, voice kink ehe 🤭

It was pouring down rain outside of your small kitchen windows. Lightning struck across the dark sky, followed soon by thunder, each strike louder than the last, proving that this storm was here to stay all night. You worried for your boyfriend. That morning he was acting strange, you knew this storm would only dampen his mood worse now that he had to steer his steed through the nipping cold and mud.

Already the barn was set for his ride the best it could, you just had to prepare for Diego. To do that you warmed up some towels and blankets, with a heated batg waiting for him in the restroom, and you decided on his favorite for supper. You couldn't think of anything you could be forgetting, surely this would help him feel better!

The clock was near striking eight that night as you waited, towels in hand by the door. With only the rain sounding, the silence was deafening. Until you heard the barn doors being forced shut with an echo. That echoing set your heart ablaze as you waited on pins and needles for him to force his way inside the house. The door handle jiggled and squeaked under pressure and the door swung up on its old hinges to show your boyfriend, looking like a sopping wet bobcat.

You called his name softly, bringing him into your arms to wring out the water from his hair and clothes. He was strangely silent. He didn't speak after you asked him about his day, or after trying to rouse a conversation about dinner, or even after showing him into your shared room. Diego kept his head bowed, his bangs hiding his face well. You began to worry, but didn't ask even as you gently dried his hair. It must've been a pretty bad day if he wasn't saying anything. It wasn't rare for work to go sideways and upset him, you supposed. But this... this silence kept up for too long now, it wasn't like him to be like this at all

Finally you had to cave and spoke up again. Your hand cupped his face gently, pulling him up to look at you softly. His usually sharp, bright blue eyes were now dark and hazy. He didn't look right at you, he wasn't focusing on you at all. It was like it saw right past you.

"Diego?" You tried again, "Can you speak to me? Wait- there's bandage on your cheek, was there an accident at work?" But what could've possibly have happened at work? Was he working his horse too hard, and Silver Bullet bucked him off? How did you not see that before? It out like a sore thumb now, his hair must've been covering it perfectly.

"I'm fine." Diego finally spoke. It sounded automated, and it shocked you how deep his voice suddenly sounded.

Definitely. Something was definitely wrong. But what?

"...If you say so. Well, let's get you out of those clothes and into a hot bath, I don't want you getting any more sick." You give him a kiss on the cheek before sauntering over to his clothes dresser for his nighttime wear. You didn't see the way he picked up his head to sniff at the air. The room and all it contained was covered in the sickly sweet scent of yours. The pulse thrumming through your body echoed in the air, hammering into his ears like drum beats. Diego's senses were occupied with only you. With eyes like a predator he watched your hips sway and he breathed in your smell and memorized the melody of your heart. But he wanted more, so much more. He wanted to drown in you.

So occupied with finding clothes you didn't notice that that Diego left the bed until his arms wrapped around your waist. They pulled you into Diego's chest, where he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder, inhaling your scent deep while his hands massaged your covered curves.

"Diego?"

An inhuman sounding growl reverberated from his chest into yours, sending the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. "Shh... Just let me..." He didn't make any move to finish his sentence... He only dug his nose deeper into your skin, to feel you and smell you, starting to impatiently rub his body against yours.

A whimper was startled from your lips once you felt his nails– no, they were more like claws as they dug into your layers of clothing. There were sharp, and one wrong move would tear open your skin. But Diego was slow and gentle as he tore off your clothes, layer by layer.

For every inch of skin that was now uncovered, Diego took his time to search your body and run his hands over your flesh, feeling up your softness, trilling in appreciation. You didn't think to stop him, you were still trapped between him and the dresser, and you'd rather die than admit it but the feeling of his tongue on your skin was pleasant.

When his hands reached your bra, he cared no more and tore it apart with his new claws. It was tedious, but Diego took his time in praising your soft mounds in his hands, occasionally licking off the sweat collecting on your body. It was a salty taste he loved.

He nibbled your thighs and covered you in bright red marks that would turn purple by tomorrow morning. He licked at every curve of your body, even kneeling to dip his tongue between the v of your thighs to taste your damp panties. You heard him moan at your taste.

"D-Diego! What has gotten into you?!" It was a simple feat to push him away from your shaking thighs. As he stumbled, he looked so dazed and drunken. But he still looked wrong. He was drooling everywhere and his pupils threatened to overtake his irises. And his teeth, they had suddenly grown sharp, like some kind of predator.

Those crystal blue eyes of his... they looked like they were glowing as he looked up at you. Diego stood back up only to cling on to you again, rubbing against you, conducting heat between your bodyss, acting like a horny animal. He mumbled your name into your shoulder, you could feel the hot huffs of air as he talked.

"Love, there's something terribly wrong with me. I think it's a side effect of my Scary Monsters... All day I've been thinking of filling you up with my cock."

Oh.

Oh.

It was a blunt confession. You wet your throat, thinking of how to deal with him like this. You had no idea what Scary Monster was, but if was causing him problems...

Your thoughts were cut off by a sharp whine. Diego was still rubbing his hard length into the back of your thigh, still neading at your belly with his claws. "Hurts... Really hurts. Need t'...empty."

You guessed there was only one way to help.

With a deep breath, you twisted to see him. Your hand was placed on his cheek. He was hot to the touch and sweaty. "Then please, use me as much as you'd like." They moved down trying to undo his belt and drop his pants. Diego got upset with your slow pace and ended up picking you up himself and throwing you on to the bed.

Before you could settle in to it on the final bounce of the mattress he was already on top of you. Somehow between throwing you on to the bed and now he had already shed himself of all his clothes. The cracks and breaking skin of his cheek had split and traveled down to his chest, his mouth was set in a toothy and wide sneer with spots of drool dropping onto you. It was unsettling to see your husband like this. But it was still Diego. You didn't need to worry right?

You settled on putting your worrying hands on his shoulders. His bare skin was slick, scalding even. While Diego left open mouthed kisses down your shoulder his tongue slid across your skin as he appreciated your taste more. He had you cuddled close underneath him. His whole body was circled around you like an unbearably hot cage, trying to feel all of your skin on his as he nuzzled and rubbed his face against your body. With every inhale of your delicious scent, he warbled more and thrusted his hard cock into your panties, which he sounded like he didn't enjoy it.

There was the sound of something tearing. To your horror he had ruined your undergarments farther. Then he quickly thrusted himself into your cunt. At this point you had become accustomed to his size and length, but without proper preparation, it still stung like a bastard. It wasn't passionate like any time before that night. Diego was a mess, he barely left you for a second. His thrusts were more of a humping motion than anything else as he couldn't bare to have his length leave for pulsating heat. He would force himself out of your hole and push back inside of you quickly, all while he spewed out manic moans. The noises Diego made sounded more animal than man at this point. His teeth grew jagged and threatened to pierce your skin with every deep breath into the junction of your shoulder. There was something swishing back and forth in your peripheral, you think it was a tail, it was scaly and seemed to try and curl around your thigh, but you didn't think much about it. Diego felt too good inside you. It felt better than ever before, despite how messy he was being, dare you say it... He was never this clingy. It was endearing in a way. And he was so much more vocal. It's embarrassing to admit that it was such a turn on. You could tell he was getting closer to his release, his thrusts were getting less coordinated, if they even were in the first place.

Your legs were suddenly grabbed in tight fists, he forced them up so your ass was lifted up from the bed. Diego brought himself out of you, and roughly pierced you on his length again so quick you couldn't help to scream. As his thrusts became inhuman, he towered over you snarling with drool spilling from his cracked lips. The old bed had started to creak, but you couldn't hear it over your own pleasured cries. You couldn't take it any more, he forced your mind into a well grounded mush. Your hands had started clawing into your pillows, you could feel it, you were so close, if he kept ramming into you like this you'd break.

The force of an orgasm rang screams from your raw throat. There was a raging whiteness that forced you blind. Only Diego was with you in that moment, but he continued to use you till his release. It began to hurt. His hips were bruising yours mercilessly, you cried and clawed into his back but he ignored your pleas.

"Diego please. It hurts! 's too much, god. Diego!"

He grabbed your scalp and forced you silent by biting into your throat. As the pain mixed in with the pleasure of your first orgasm, he never stopped moving inside of you. Diego anchored himself with his teeth digging into your meat. He was growling as your fluids mixed with his inside of you. With a final thrust he stayed sheathed in your core with his load of cum filling you up. He stayed in that position, keeping your hole plugged with his dick until he caught his breath. Just when you thought he was done, he started to thrust into you again. Your husband would use your body again, and again, until you lost count of how many times you both came and you were bloated sickly full.

Diego finally collapsed on top of you. Absentmindedly he would coo and gargle noises to you, softly licking at the blood seeping from your wound, and once his job was done he finally fell asleep between your breasts snoring away with his hard cock still keeping you full of his spend. Without any other thoughts you fell asleep with him. You were exhausted of course, but tomorrow morning you'd force him to clean and comfort you, monster or not.

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #steel ball run #diego brando #diego brando x reader #jjba x reader #spicy

[ein-liebloser-wanderer]

How about a yandere monster drider anomaly?

Based on recent headcanons I posted before. That will be the foundation for this.

Since it isn't mentioned what you wanted exactly, I took the liberty of writing headcanons.

~~~~~~

⸸ The Araneae — General Headcanons (Yandere/Lovesick Edition) ⸸

Description: They want to eat you out. Maybe in a sexy way, maybe for dinner. Or both. Who said dinner can't be sexy times also?

Warning/MID: yanderes are their own warning, slight blood, slight terror/violence, mature themes (read the contains list)

Contains: dark humor, anthropomorphized animals (not just spiders), blue-and-orange morality / morals and self-sacrifice are entirely human concepts, emotional detachment, lack of empathy, sexual cannibalism, courtship, obsessive behavior, imbalanced power dynamics, typical spider behavior, manipulation, silk restraints

That being said, let us dive into the center of the spider's web...

~~~~~~~~~~~

⸸ The Widows and Widowers, and the Spouse Eaters. There is a reason why the world gave them these names, and these ones don't even cover the more creative ones.

⸸ They put 'consume' in 'consummation', and for Outsiders and humans, this ritual is horrific and a big no-no in society (I'm not counting you, you kinky bastard).

⸸ Things are much more different nowadays though. Parenting with both parents is becoming more normalized, and literal consummation of marriages is a guaranteed life or death sentence.

⸸ With help of therapy, medication, public awareness about their biology, and just societal progression, most Spider Folk have the support needed to suppress their instincts.

⸸ Emphasis on the word, 'suppress'.

⸸ Because if it was possible to rid one's self of such instincts, then the Araneae wouldn't have their very own statistic for spousal homicide, would they?

For a comparison, it's the equivalent of horny people doing the No Nut November challenge. For those with low to nonexistent sex drives, uh...think about going on a diet.

⸸ Remember, the Araneae are reclusive, preferring to keep their identities hidden from most of society (except from the authorities, of course). They deeply value the very few that know of who they truly are, and cherish their significant others like one would a rare Pokemon.

⸸ And yes, I have mentioned in my last post that the Spider Folk are incapable of bonding and empathy. But when you are a cold-hearted animal, romance is really just the enjoyment of enjoying your partner's company, finding them attractive (physically or emotionally) with the added bonus of passing down your genes.

⸸ So, they might not feel the empathy we value so much as humans, but lust and attraction? Absolutely. Why else would they let themselves be eaten by their partner?

⸸ So much so that one can only hope that if a Spider were to stalk court you, you could only hope that they would eventually lose interest or find better prey. It's unlikely, but who am I to destroy that fantasy?

⸸ Also, don't even try to run away. A struggling prey will only arouse them even more, and like the true predators that they are, they won't care if it hurts.

⸸ Nowadays, most Spiders would think twice about devouring their significant other. The romantic idea of having their lover for life is becoming popular. But that being said, some won't hesitate to do that if it isn't an option.

⸸ After all, the only way to divorce your husband in spider society while still keeping the 'til death do us part' bit of the vow is by being his death.

⸸ If you think you can avoid this by dating a male, then I have bad news: it won't.

⸸ For spiders, it is all about strength, and whoever is the strongest in the relationship gets to decide what and how this relationship will go.

⸸ If a male Araneae is dating you, it's probably because he was thinking 'this one can't run away' when he met you at the hospital.

⸸ As I have said in my general Headcanons for the Spider Folk, males are more subtle. When evolution decides that only the most agile and cunning of males can pass down their genes to the cannibalistic females of their clan, it should be expected of them to be very good at manipulation.

⸸ But going back to subtlety, here is example of why males are more paranoia inducing than females.

⸸ Imagine. You two are having a nice dinner over at his place when he gives you a present. It is wrapped in one of the finest silks you had ever seen him made, and you can't help but be at awe at the intricate patterns and imagery adorning it.

⸸ But then, you finally unwrap it, and it was revealed what he had actually gifted you. A single hand, pale and stiff from rigor mortis...and that mark. You recognized it. He was the only one who had such discoloration on their hand.

⸸ Before you could even throw it away, you suddenly feel something wiry thin and sharp wrap around your neck. It pulls your head to the back of the chair, forcing you to still. Warm blood trickled down your throat, and you dared not to move...lest you get yourself decapitated.

⸸ All the while, various thoughts were running through your head. How did he even get behind you? How did he move from his seat without you noticing? Had his silk always been this sharp?

⸸ But out of all the things you wanted to say, this was all that came out of your mouth: "Why?"

⸸ He could answer you...but why bother? You would never understand how mind-crippling his love is, never know how paralyzing the fear of losing you to some other anthropomorph.

⸸ If you were a spider, he would sacrifice his life for you, let you eat and ravage him alive. He'll be happy knowing that he was able to give his all to you.

⸸ But you aren't a spider. You are an Outsider. If you are unwilling to love him the way he knows how...then he shall do it for you.

"Dont cry...Soon, you'll be with me...Forever and ever..."

~~~~~~~~

Ahahaha...this was requested when? April?

Oh, dear.

#yandere oc #yandere arachnoid #yandere drider #yandere spider #yandere arachnid #yandere monster #yandere cryptid #yandere x darling #yandere male #original character #yandere writing #yandere #love-eldritch #horror romance #monster headcanons #anthropomorfic #drider headcanons #drider #spider people #araneae #arachnid people

[caffeineivore]

Send Whiskey, A Prequel

For my R/J peeps.

May need to read the other Send Whiskey snippets (tagged “writing”) for this to make sense. Rated a high PG13 for mentions of violence and drug use.

Winter is a silent killer in the projects. Jaime—named after a probable father who overdosed in an alley eight months after his birth—huddles in front of a rickety space heater and eats a cold and bland dinner—white bread and a slice of American cheese. The space heater was a definite fire hazard in the cramped, dirty room, but as the gas bill hadn’t been paid since October, one did what one had to. Jaime’s mother was working and had not been home since sometime last night, but the money would go towards drugs first and foremost before the gas company would see a dime. 

The sound of someone knocking on the door draws his attention, but Jaime stays still and keeps quiet. There were no such thing as friendly neighbours in a building such as theirs, and his mother’s associates would know that she wasn’t home. He’s about to finish his sandwich when the door bangs open on its hinges, and before he can react, a sweaty man in gang colours bursts into the room and he’s lifted off his feet, the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against his jaw. “Come any closer and the brat buys it!” The voice is vaguely familiar, likely one of his mother’s paramours. Jaime drops the remnants of his sandwich and watches, wide-eyed, as a woman in a black trench coat comes to a halt in the doorway, her eyes hard as the pistol she kept trained on her quarry. 

“This will not end well for you.” Her voice is mellifluous, bearing none of the harsh consonants of the locals or the rasp from his mother’s that came from long-term smoking. “You won’t find a hole deep enough to hide in if you hurt a child, Craig. You know this.” 

“I don’t give a shit! That bastard set me up!” Spittle flies from Craig’s mouth and lands on Jaime’s face, but he’s too scared to do anything but wince. “You’re going to drop that gun and back the fuck up, bitch!” 

“As you wish.” Her voice is calm, almost bored, as she lowers her gun and takes a step back. Craig keeps his own gun pressed to Jaime’s face, and doesn’t move it away until the woman lays her pistol on the floor, about a foot away from the ancient space heater. She makes a show of standing up slowly and taking another step back, and then the next few moments are a blur. 

A knife, thin as one of Jaime's fingers, whizzes through the air to embed itself in Craig’s throat. His arms slacken and he falls to the ground with a sickening gurgle of blood, and Jaime runs towards the doorway. The woman catches him by the upper arms, her hands firm but gentle, and frightened blue eyes meet amethyst ones. “It’s all right, honey. You’re safe now.” A faint, slightly careworn smile crosses her lips. “What’s your name?”

“Jaime.” 

“Well, Jaime, I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m sure you’re scared. Probably hungry, too. You can call me Abby.” 

The woman named Abby takes him out of the cold, dirty apartment and buys him a burger and fries. Her car is black and spotlessly neat, with a booster seat in the back and tinted windows. It smells pleasantly of some floral air freshener and the radio plays soft music heavy on violins. Jaime is almost afraid of dirtying the car with his food or the blood staining his ragged sweatshirt, but hunger eventually wins out and he inhales the meal. 

“I have a daughter about your age,” Abby tells him, her eyes kind as they glance into the rearview mirror. “Probably a bit younger. I’d set up a play date, but I don’t think your mother would like that. Maybe someday.”

She takes him to a cozy little house at the outskirts of town, where he gets a change of clothes and a shower with hot water and bubbles, and he falls asleep on a soft couch, watching cartoons on a big TV in a nice living room. When he wakes up, he’s at a police precinct, an exhausted-looking social worker with dark circles under her eyes and caffeine jitters in her hands asking questions about his home life and the horrific scene with Craig. The social worker makes mention of Abby, but calls her Absinthe for some reason. He answers the questions as best as he can, but at ten years of age, he isn’t deemed a reliable witness, and he’s returned to the tenement building where his mother lives and a drug dealer held a gun to his head. Strangely, though, the gas bill is paid, and every week, a load of groceries gets dropped off on the stoop. It’s cans of soup and pre-sliced fruit and sandwich fixings at first—easy enough for even a little boy to make by himself without adult help. By the time Jaime turns thirteen, though, it has shifted to food that requires a skillet or an oven. He burns a few things, over-seasons a few other things at first, but gradually learns.

Life takes another turn for the bizarre when he’s on the cusp of seventeen. As the years went by, the sightings of the woman who’d birthed him become increasingly rare. The work comes less these days, as her looks and health deteriorates with the years of hard living, but she benefits from the mysteriously paid bills and groceries just as he does, and finds herself at liberty to spend all of her earnings on the pills and heroin. Jaime comes home one day from school to find her on the floor, a band still wrapped around her forearm, already room-temperature and stiff. 

It's a different social worker who talks to him at the same police precinct, but the dark circles and caffeine jitters are familiar. Jaime has no relatives on record, but there is paperwork stating that a benefactor has set aside money to provide for him, including a trust fund to be paid out upon his twenty-fifth birthday. The social worker gives him a business card bearing an address downtown, and Jaime takes the bus down to the commercial district, finds himself standing in front of what looks like a bar called “The Distillery”, all but deserted in the light of day. 

He half expects some burly staff member to kick him out for being underage as he pulls open the heavy wooden doors, and wonders if the address was a misprint. The Distillery is dimly lit but clean, all dark wood panels and moody lighting. The Barkeep is a grizzled man of perhaps sixty, whose diminutive stature nonetheless gave an impression of hidden reserves of strength, and Jaime feels pinned by the rheumy eyes under the cap of iron-grey hair. “Is there something I can help you with, son?” The voice, too, is deceptively genial, and something about the question feels off. 

“My name is Jaime Bradley. I got a card with this address,” Jaime comes to a stop at the bar, but doesn’t take a seat on one of the stools. “Supposedly someone here has been paying my bills, setting aside money for me. I don’t have any idea what that’s about.”

The Barkeep holds out a hand to take the card, and just as Jamie slides it across the bar top, the swinging doors to the kitchen open, and a young girl walks out, fine-boned and lovely, unbound hair a raven waterfall flowing to her waist. Jaime’s breath catches in his throat as his eyes lock with her amethyst ones. She’s perhaps his age, perhaps a year younger, but the features are unmistakable, and he remembers a burger and a booster seat in a black car, a gunman felled with a knife thrown so fast he didn’t even see her move. “Abby. She told me her name was Abby.”

The old man’s lips curve up in a sad sort of smile even as he scans the business card, which under the dim lighting shows a peculiar watermark in the paper. “She would have, sonny. I daresay you were too young to remember a name like Absinthe. She did tell me about you, all those years ago.” He lays a broad hand on the slim shoulder of the girl. “I tried to encourage her to take over for me in here after Ruth was born, instead of handling orders and shipments, but she was a bit of a chip off the old block. Stubborn. She didn’t like leaving a loose end, especially with a child.”

The past tense in reference to Abby doesn’t escape Jaime’s attention, and the Barkeep reads the question in the younger man’s eyes. “Cape Town, five years ago. She had already made arrangements for you, though.” The old man wipes down the already-clean bar top with a white towel, and meets Jaime’s eyes. “It’s up to you, son. If you have an idea of where you want to stay, what you want to do, I’ll have my accountant write you a check.” The towel gets put away, and the old man sets a bowl of beer nuts on the bar top, surveying Jaime shrewdly. “If you’re not sure yet, maybe we could talk.”

The girl named Ruth scowls up at the old man, and she’s even prettier when she’s angry. Jaime is also almost positive that if he were to say so, she’d eviscerate him. “We don’t know him, Grandpa.”

“Absinthe never missed, little one,” the Barkeep admonishes. “And I could use a strong back, an extra pair of hands.”

“I’ll do it.” Jaime’s decision is made on an impulse, but then again, having some semblance of a home and a job seems wiser than being given a lump sum of money that he had no idea how to manage. “She saved my life, after all.”

He has no idea exactly what “it” entails, but the Barkeep’s lips quirk up in a smile. “All right. I’ll show you the ropes. You’ll be a decent Barback, I daresay, after a bit of training. Ruth will help.”

Ruth glowers and crosses her arms over her chest. “You can’t make me.”

“Now, now, let’s not have any petulance. My name is Louis, but you can call me Lou, son, and I think I’ll call you J. Have you any knowledge of the different types of spirits and their uses?”

Jaime only knows so far and so much as how much of a bottle it would take before his mother, or one of her associates, would be slurring, or mean, or unconscious. “I know that they can all fuck a person up, if enough is had,” he says baldly, then winces at Ruth’s haughty expression. “Pardon the expression.”

But the Barkeep chuckles, leans back on his heels. “That’s a start and a true statement. We’ll go down the line.” One hand gestures the shelves behind him, at the wide assortment of bottles. “Whiskey. Gin. Tequila. Rum. Vodka. Brandy. These are the most famous, most utilized ones. But we do have several other varieties on offer as well. Aquavit. Calvados. Bourbon. Moonshine, for example. Each has its own distinctive qualities and characteristics. If the intention is simply to, in your words, ‘fuck a person up’, anyone can do the job. A real Barkeep, however, is quite discerning about what spirit to utilize for what purpose. What would best suit the wishes of the client and the personality of the customer. And a Barback is the Barkeep’s right hand man, one who supports the Barkeep through all the orders and their individual needs, maintains the flow of the business so that everyone leaves out happy at Last Call.” He’s a good four inches shorter than Jaime, but he doesn’t require the height to hold the younger man’s complete attention. “Are you ready for it?”

Jaime doesn’t quite know what the Barkeep is referring to, but he’s almost positive it has nothing to do with actual drinking. “I’m willing to learn, Lou.” Ruth’s expression next to her grandfather’s is snide, and it puts his back up. “Whether or not everyone’s willing to teach me.”

Lou glances from Ruth’s mutinous expression to Jaime’s raised chin, and lets out a chuckle. “You’ll do, J. You’ll do.”

***

The lights of the city never quite die down, but outside, it is finally that time of night that the streets are mostly quiet. In the manager’s office of The Distillery, Ruth nurses a cup of coffee gone cold, meticulously tallies up accounts. It’s the end of the month, and all invoices are due. The month had been a profitable one, all things considered. 

The door opens behind her, and J walks in, sets down a plate next to the computer keyboard. There’s a burger on it and a basket of fries. “Eat something if you’re going to pull an all-nighter,” he says in his patient way. “You’re going to be no good tomorrow if you’re sick and exhausted.”

She glances up, and though he’s definitely filled out more, gained a few tattoos and a handful of scars and a dozen or so close calls since twelve years ago, his eyes meet hers with the same forthrightness, the same hint of awe. He’s more at ease, though, and presses a kiss to the top of her head as though he had a perfect right to her, before dropping a napkin down by the plate. 

“You’re very bossy for an employee.” Ruth tries to sound cross, and almost succeeds. J blithely ignores the statement, and gives her a smile designed to disarm even the most suspicious of characters. He could have, with the right training, become a formidable part of the guild, traveling far and wide with the rest of them, but Ruth is selfishly glad that he’d never opted for that route. Something in his spirit—an altruistic, caring part that remained determinedly kind and faithful despite the cruelty of the world he’d always known, might have been extinguished in those dark alleyways and blood-soaked rooms of the world. He might have lost some of his great capacity for love, and she would have been bereft without it.

“Someone needs to keep you in line,” J gently turns her swivel chair until she is facing him, then bends at the waist, kisses the point of her cheekbone, then the corner of her mouth. “I’m pretty sure it’s in my job description.”

“Barbacks support Barkeeps with the flow of business, running tabs, and the cleanup. I don’t think there’s anything about ordering me around.” 

“Stubborn. It must be hereditary.” J shakes his head, then pushes the plate towards her. “I made a promise to Lou, and to Abby’s memory. And even if I didn’t… I’m yours, til the end.” He cups her cheek with one hand, and this time she relents, meets him halfway with her own mouth for the briefest of seconds before she gives him a gentle shove on the shoulder. 

“I’m busy. You’re distracting me.”

“All right, I’ll make myself scarce. But eat your food before it gets cold.” J gives her another gentle smile, and shuts the office door quietly behind his back. Ruth scoots her chair back up to the desk, and picks up a fry, dunks it in ketchup. The warm familiarity of the meal tastes like nostalgia, like a decade of teamwork and long nights and bickering. 

Like not-quite childhood sweethearts and a stolen kiss before a murder. 

Absinthe never missed, indeed.

#writing #R/J

[lovecoreclownz-archive]

LCC alter directory:

🧵Ollie and 🪡Buddy - @lovecoreclownz

🌹Irene - @twilight-daydreams

🍒Cherri - @candied-cherri-love

🧋Mal - @cold-blue-bastard-named-dinner

(Noting that Mal, Irene, and Cherri are Parental figures to me! If you follow them, please note that they may ask for friends of mine to not reblog certain posts! ^_^)

🍹Piña - @pina-coolatta

🦇 Darnold - @dr-darnold-pepper

🍷Merlott - @aged-like-foul-wine

🦈Fin - @ootoobs

🔓Dawn - @dawnslock

🍦B - @the-wonderful-world-of-b

☠️Barnabus - @baseball-with-sledgehammers

💧Dew - @littledoe-drop

🕊Pygeon - @polygonalpygeon

🐈‍⬛Sev - @jellie-kitty

🔧Machiavellian - @malice-and-hatred

#hiii this is a list of evedyones blogs btw this is gonna end up on my intro post dw about this #clown’s honks

[thatone-churro]

the thrilling rediscovery of a hot pink bitch named breakfast and a cold blue bastard named dinner, along with the discovery of the secret third green dog, lunch, was promptly and joyously followed by me remembering i have characters with a pink, blue, and green color schemes and i will now lovingly be referring to them as such

#a hot pink bitch named breakfast has placed itself so thoroughly in my brain i’m not kidding #grace being stupid #text post #personal

[your-1up-girl]

Neither Did I (Nicola Francesca x Fem!Reader)

Happy birthday to my love @sammilimyy I wanted to make something for you again this year so I figured I'd do alittle something something for your best Italian boi. I hope you like it Sam! You are so special to me and I am always greatful to have you in my life! I love you so much my love!

Word count: 3748

Warnings: Angst with fluff, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of WWI, probably incorrect historical facts? it's been a while, maybe OOC Nicola? (I broke him tbh), may have romanticized the Mafia (honestly the Mafia talk is so little that this warning may be unnecessary) so please understand that this is a work of FICTION and not meant to be taken seriously, the Mafia irl is messed up sooooo yeah, semi-edited, no beta we die like men or whatever

Ever since you were little, your mother used to tease you about how, “Nicola Francessca was going to marry you.” Obviously, being a child you had no idea how she would come to that conclusion. To you, Nicola was the person you could rely on. As a child he was there when you were upset for whatever reason. He was your guardian angel through it all. There were many nights you could remember of just spending time on one of the old rooftops in town and gaze into the brilliant sky together. You saw him and his family as part of your own and they welcomed you with open arms. Well, at least Dante and Gullia did. Nicola saw them as the most important people in his life at the time so only saw their introductions and approval as necessary. Your childhood with him was one that was constantly filled with laughter. There wasn’t a moment when you were not with him. 

Time passed; both of you grew and, of course, so did your feelings. While Dante continued to have that baby brother charm you loved to tease him about, Nicola, you began to see in a different light. Your smile changed when you were with him, the way his hand felt in yours felt different, and the sound of your name falling from his lips became more and more special. Nicola too changed. Long gone was the scrawny boy you would playfully make fun of. Now, he has somehow grown into an attractive young man. And somehow, said man seemed to know this effect he had on you. Many times during your teens he would jest and tease about how you always looked away when he smiled at you. Or how you got tongue tied when he tossed any sort of praise your way. 

It was embarrassing really how flustered you got around him. In your mind, it was only a one way feeling, but Nicola felt the same way. Your eyes grew bright when he showed you a part of town you didn’t know, or when he brought you sweets and coffee out of the blue just to see your excitement at what new dulce he has brought you today. Everything you did seemed to strike him through the heart. Time and time again, he was resorted to putty in his hands at your voice and any type of request you gave him.

“Nicola, can we go to the garden today?”

“I know you’re busy but, do you think we can get more treats from the bakery?”

“Won’t you come in? Mia Mamma made enough dinner to feed five of us.”

How could he resist you? You who looked at him like he was your world. He didn’t realize when it happened but during the moments spent together, a treasured calm from the storm of the Mafia life, he had fallen for you. You made him want to be a better man. Nicola craved for your touch. Any opportunity he could get to hold your hand was a gift he didn’t want to let go of. Leaning on your shoulder while you sat, holding you close to him when it got cold and you forgot to bring a shall, laying his head on your lap. It was all the soft, innocent touch that he wanted. He couldn't go too far however, all of them must remain–friendly? Yes, friendly. Two young teenagers who found comfort in each other. Nothing more, nothing less. But what if he wanted it to be more?

“Hey, Nicola?” It was late in the afternoon. You both decided to walk around the town even if Nicola’s father wanted him home but he never listened to what that bastard had to say. Nicola held your hand as you strolled down the cobblestone streets taking in the setting sun and soon blooming night-life the town had to offer. 

“Yes Darling?” The pet name he honored you with always caused you to shy away. It was subtle this time, but Nicola saw the way you smiled at the ground and felt the way you squeezed his hand a bit more lovingly. 

“Nicola,” Composing yourself, you began again. “What am I to you?” It was an unexpected question and caused him to just barely falter in the pase he set with you but luckily you didn’t notice the slip.

“What are you to me?”

“Yes.” The young girl gazed up at him with brilliant eyes full of adoration. 

Damn it, she’s going to bring me to an early grave.

“You are very special to me my dear. I always look forward to the time we get to spend together.” Then he stopped, turned you to face him, and brought your mouth to his lips. He gave you nothing more than a chaste kiss but somehow, you felt like it was enough for the time being. “There isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you.”  Amore mio, he wanted to add that. How desperately he wanted to add those two small words to fortify this relationship with you. But he couldn’t. He was only 17 and you 16, there was that small chance, that small seed of doubt that, once it takes root, is sometimes impossible to remove. So he remained in this space with you. Mutual pining that neither of you were ready to confront. 

And you were both happy. Soon, when the time was right, you both would express your mutual feelings for each other and from there you would live a long, happy life with him. Oh how silly you were. 

In 1914, an announcement was made, one that many knew was coming. The Kingdom of Italy had officially joined the war. Any young man at the age of 18, would be drafted to fight alongside the Central Powers. And of course Nicola Francessca was one of those chosen men.

It was depressing really, the only ones who saw him off were you, Dante, and Gullia. Dante, of course, held it together better than Gullia did, she practically saw Nicola as her own son. Both of them said their heartfelt goodbyes and they gave you a moment with him. 

“H-”

“You shouldn’t have to go.” You spoke with a strain in your voice and refused to meet his sapphire eyes. Nicola saw as spots of the ground got darker from your falling tears. “But you’re leaving, for who knows how long, and-and I-” You broke the sentence and raised the back of your hand to your hidden face. 

“Hey-”

“How will I contact you? What if they don’t allow letters? Or what if something happens to you? How will Gullia know? How will Dante? How will-”

“Look at me amore mio.”  Nicola’s voice was soft and secure. But the calmness of his tone wasn’t what made you look at him. He’s never called you that before. Nicola wrapped one hand around your head, fingers lacing into your hair, placed his bags on the ground and brought you to his chest. He held you there for who knows how long and the shock on your face must have been a sight to see. “I promise nothing will happen. I guarantee you that I'll only be gone for a few months.” Then he chuckled, the vibrations bringing you some kind of comfort, “Or don’t tell me, you’ve become so attached to the hip that you can survive a few little months without me?” A scoff left your lips. Part of you was upset that he dared tease you at a time like this but a bigger part felt that same comfort you always did. You wrapped your arms around his waist and closed your eyes. You took in the feel of his clothes against your skin. The way his arms felt around you. The scent of the cologne he always wore ever since you bought it for his birthday years ago. But most importantly you listened carefully to his heartbeat.

Thum-bum.

Thum-bum.

Thum-bum.

It truly calmed you. Nicola calmed you. You listened to that steady beat as he held you. 

“I promise, I’ll come back to you. I told you before, there isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you.” His heartbeat didn’t waver. You could trust him.

A sniffle escaped and you buried your face into his uniform. “I’m holding you to that.” A chuckle verberated again in his chest. When the train whistled, you finally broke apart. Nicola wiped the remaining tears from your eyes and picked up his bags. His back turned to you and he walked to the train door entrance, handed the conductor his ticket and that was that.

As you walked back to Gullia and Dante, a dark thought crossed your mind. The thought that that possibly was the last time you’d ever see Nicola again. The tears came again. It was frustrating really. Gullia saw your plight and held you as you both walked. Danted gave you a handkerchief to dry your tears, and you whispered, “There’s still so much I need to tell him. Why didn’t I tell him?” Not knowing what to say, Gullia could only tighten her grip, and Dante held your hand in comfort.

He was a liar Nicola. You knew it was childish but you truly thought that he would only be gone for a few months. A few months had passed and he still wasn’t home. It made you cry even now, as you packed your bags. Burlone had gotten too dangerous with the war. More soldiers had been stationed in town and the government had gotten forceful on many of the residents. You and your Mamma had to leave. She said that you would stay with a family member up north. It was calmer, she claimed. You barely had time to say goodbye to Dante or Gullia. You both made your escape from the town. Two pricey tickets later, you and your Mamma left. You heard her light snores and the clacking of the train filled the ride. As you gazed out the window, the only thing you could think about was how thankful you were to have that last moment with Nicola.

Years passed. 

The war was over.

Italy had won? Lost? You didn't care anymore. Your Mamma had somehow found a way to get your old house back. You didn't think that you would see it again. The sights and sounds. It would take a while but eventually you figured things would return to some type of normalcy. It had been nearly four years since you last saw Burlone. Since you last seen Dante, Gullia-

And Nicola. 

He never wrote to you. There was a small hope that when you got to your old home there would have been a pile of letters just waiting for you, but now. Just a dirty old house. A few neighbors who stayed helped you clean the place up and after a month it began to feel like you could live normally again. You began going out into town more frequently months later. Saying hello to old friends and visiting those who you could remember. And everytime without fail, you'd walk by the Falzone manor. You also never asked about Nicola. It's been long enough now that he would have come to see you. If you hadn't heard a word from him, you just assumed the worst and allowed your heart time to process it.

A few people told you that the Falzone did okay all things considered. There were a few spots here and there while the Kingdom of Italy was stationed here. But the order they kept or tried to keep was to the best of their ability.

"Oh wait, I remember you!" One bar owner exclaimed that caused nearby patrons to look as well, "You were Nicola Francesca's little girlfriend!"

"Well, yes I guess that's me. But I was never-"

"Look at how grown up you are bella! I'm sure Nicola was happy to see you once he got home."

Your head snapped up, "Nicola? He's-he's home? Alive?" 

The bar owner gave a bellowing laugh, seeming unable to understand your shock, "Why of course bella. I think I saw him walking around not too long ago. Went down the street where the cafe is." Last you knew, there wasn't a cafe that way but it's been a while so who knows. You said your thanks, secured the groceries you had, and ran in the direction he pointed. 

There just like he said, was a cafe and there sitting outside of it was Nicola. He looked older which was a given but being apart from him truly made your heart grow fonder. You wanted nothing more than to run to him. Finally tell him everything you should have said at the train station. But why didn't he come to you first? Did he even ask around if you were home or where you were? You didn't care. 

Steeling your nerves, you approached the table. But as you did, another girl sat across from him. She was beautiful to say the least but that wasn't what stopped. What stopped you was how Nicola stood from his chair to give this girl a kiss on the cheek and hold her hand as they enjoyed their coffee. 

What?

You didn't understand it at all. All this time, you thought that he would come home and you both would finally be together. Why, why was your Nicola Francesca flirting with another woman? Your heart dropped and you felt like you suddenly didn't know where you were. Feet remained unmoved as you stood there to witness it all. Only when Nicola laughed did you finally snap out of it. You turned to leave but of course-

"Oh sorry signorina, I didn't- Ah little bambina." That voice and nickname only Marcos ever called you that. 

"Hello Marcos, sorry for bumping into you but I have to leave." You made quick work to pick up the things you dropped. People were starting to stare and you wanted to go home. 

"Didn't realize you were back. It's good to see you again." 

"Same here, look Marcos, if you want to talk later I'm sure mia Mamma would love to have you over. We still live in the same house." Marcos tried to talk to you more but you took your leave. You forced yourself not to look back but you weren't strong enough. With a glance over your shoulder, you saw Nicola stare at your retreating body. Mouth ajar and a mix of shock and something else written on his face.

A day passed, then two, it wasn't until the third day that Nicola showed up at your door. Your mom welcomed him with open arms talking about how handsome he was and how it's been too long. You heard it all from your bedroom upstairs but didn't make an effort to see him. Not until there was a small knock on your door did you move and there he stood. Nicola had on a green button up tucked into his pants. You noticed his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes were the same but different. It still felt like home when you looked at them but it didn't have that same light you once remembered. He also held a bouquet of pink and blue flowers, ones he knew were your favorite. None of that mattered now however.

"Is there a reason you're at my door, Francesca?" 

Ouch, fine, he deserved that one. "I came to see you."

"Yes?" You folded your arms, "Well you've seen me so now you can leave."

He ignored that comment, "I didn't know you were home. I was told that you left town soon after I left. Did you-"

"Why Nicola?" You stopped him before it could go any further. Not wanting to beat around the bush you just cut to the chase, "Why didn't you come see me when I came back?"

"Why didn't you come see me?"

Tears welled up, he had the audacity to throw the question back at you? "I heard nothing from you once you left. I thought you died, Nicola. At the train station, you said you would come back. You said that I was special to you so-so why didn't you-Why did it take you so long?" 

He didn't have an answer.

"An-an-and why," Damnit, keep it together. Do not cry in front of him, it's not worth it. "Why were you with that other woman? Is that what you are now? A shameless flirt? There isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you. Did those words mean anything to you Nicola? Because they meant the world to me." 

It was silent and before you knew it, you had closed the door on him. You thought that was the end. Truly you did. But the next night while your mom went to dinner with Marco, Nicola arrived once again. 

"Let me in. Please?"

You sighed and against your better judgment allowed him entry. A shoe box was tucked in his arms. You led him to your room and sat on your bed and him in a chair and waited. 

"I want to explain everything to you and then you can decide if you want me to leave, okay?" You nodded with crossed arms. Nicola then took a deep breath before continuing. “Not that this would make you feel any better, or to make myself look better, but I didn’t write to Gullia either. The only person who I wrote to was Dante.” You scoffed, “Just hold on. There was a reason for it.” The grip he had on the box seemed to loosen as he hung his head. “There was nothing to write home about in the trenches. Everyday I would see someone else lose a life out there. I thought that being in the Mafia I'd seen it all but-There were somethings I just couldn’t get over.” He stopped for a moment. By then you had unfolded your arms and softened your demeanor. You reached out to hold his hand and he turned it over to hold it back tightly.

“Oh Nicola. I had no idea.”

“No. You didn’t. But that’s how I wanted it to be. I’m not the same man I was when I left. No man out there ever comes back the same. Sometimes, while we tried to sleep, they would play loud music or make noise to keep us awake. I thought I would lose my mind. When it was all over, when they said we could go home, I didn't feel like I was good for you any more. I didn’t feel like I was the same man you cared for. The same man that you found comfort in died. I’m all that’s left.”

His breath was shaking. All you could do was sit, hold his hand, and listen. You felt useless but you hoped that it brought Nicola some type of comfort.

“I came home. I did my best to continue where I left off. I asked Gullia about you. She said you had moved to a safer place and felt relieved. I didn’t have to face you as I am now. But then you came back. I saw you on the first day you came to the town. Graceful, talking to everyone like you never left, and all smiles. Beautiful, beautiful smiles. You were so happy, I didn’t want to ruin that. I flirted with other women to forget about you but I knew where my heart lied.” Finally, he let go of your hand. Nicola took the shoe box he had and placed it in your lap; it was heavier than you expected. “I remember everything I said to you at that train station.” He gestured for you to open the box. When you did, the tears that welled up began to fall. 

They were letters in unopened envelopes all addressed to you. You went through a few in Nicola’s presence and continued to cry. All of them talking about how much he missed you. How much he longed to be by your side again. Your heart felt like it would burst from this overwhelming feeling.

There was a raspiness in your voice, “You-you never sent them.”

“It didn’t feel right. I just needed you to know,” Nicola got up and placed his lips against your cheek. One hand played with your hair and he took a deep breath of your familiar scent. The scent and feel of something he missed for so long. “I never stopped thinking about you.”  He kissed your cheek. Then stayed there. In between shaky breaths you said.

“I don’t want you to leave me. Please, not again.”  The breath he held was released, he was at ease with his heart and mind. You brought him into a hug and he wasted no time to return it. He laid you back on the bed and you took him into your chest. He found solace in being with you. As he rested, you played with his hair, running your fingers through them as both your breaths steadied. After all this time, you had him here. He wasn’t going anywhere, you were going to make sure of that. Nicola picked up his head and gazed into your eyes. A hand brushed his bangs out of his face so you could get a better look at him. Yes, he was different. He wasn’t the same; but you didn’t care. He was here and he was yours and you his. He cupped your cheek and brought you in for a kiss. The kiss was years in the making as you both secured the relationship. Your lips meshed with one another in imperfect harmony. It was somewhat unconventional but neither cared. You leaned in more to just taste more of him, all of him. It was intoxicating. 

When you broke apart, his cheek made a home against your neck as you planted kiss after kiss on his head. Nicola wrapped his arms around you and once again laid with you. Playing with his hair, the tears had stopped and you felt like you could breathe once more. He had softly whispered “I won’t leave you again amore mio.” 

You thought back to his words again, “You truly never stopped thinking about me?”

“Not once.”

You smiled and, holding him tighter, responded, “Neither did I."

#i don't always write but when I do #it seems to only be for you lmao #happy birthday sam!!! #i did my best so i hope you like it #nicola francesca x reader #piofiore #piofiore the fated memories #nicola francesca #piofiore fanfiction #piofiore no banshou #piofiore fated memories #nicola x reader #nicola francesca x female reader #nicola francesca fanfiction #otome #my writing

[pinkjoy-cons]

Neither did I

Happy birthday to my love @sammilimyy I wanted to make something for you again this year so I figured I'd do alittle something something for your best Italian boi. I hope you like it Sam! You are so special to me and I am always greatful to have you in my life! I love you so much my love!

Word count: 3748

Warnings: Angst with fluff, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of WWI, probably incorrect historical facts? it's been a while, maybe OOC Nicola? (I broke him tbh), may have romanticized the Mafia (honestly the Mafia talk is so little that this warning may be unnecessary) so please understand that this is a work of FICTION and not meant to be taken seriously, the Mafia irl is messed up sooooo yeah, semi-edited, no beta we die like men or whatever

Ever since you were little, your mother used to tease you about how, “Nicola Francessca was going to marry you.” Obviously, being a child you had no idea how she would come to that conclusion. To you, Nicola was the person you could rely on. As a child he was there when you were upset for whatever reason. He was your guardian angel through it all. There were many nights you could remember of just spending time on one of the old rooftops in town and gaze into the brilliant sky together. You saw him and his family as part of your own and they welcomed you with open arms. Well, at least Dante and Gullia did. Nicola saw them as the most important people in his life at the time so only saw their introductions and approval as necessary. Your childhood with him was one that was constantly filled with laughter. There wasn’t a moment when you were not with him. 

Time passed; both of you grew and, of course, so did your feelings. While Dante continued to have that baby brother charm you loved to tease him about, Nicola, you began to see in a different light. Your smile changed when you were with him, the way his hand felt in yours felt different, and the sound of your name falling from his lips became more and more special. Nicola too changed. Long gone was the scrawny boy you would playfully make fun of. Now, he has somehow grown into an attractive young man. And somehow, said man seemed to know this effect he had on you. Many times during your teens he would jest and tease about how you always looked away when he smiled at you. Or how you got tongue tied when he tossed any sort of praise your way. 

It was embarrassing really how flustered you got around him. In your mind, it was only a one way feeling, but Nicola felt the same way. Your eyes grew bright when he showed you a part of town you didn’t know, or when he brought you sweets and coffee out of the blue just to see your excitement at what new dulce he has brought you today. Everything you did seemed to strike him through the heart. Time and time again, he was resorted to putty in his hands at your voice and any type of request you gave him.

“Nicola, can we go to the garden today?”

“I know you’re busy but, do you think we can get more treats from the bakery?”

“Won’t you come in? Mia Mamma made enough dinner to feed five of us.”

How could he resist you? You who looked at him like he was your world. He didn’t realize when it happened but during the moments spent together, a treasured calm from the storm of the Mafia life, he had fallen for you. You made him want to be a better man. Nicola craved for your touch. Any opportunity he could get to hold your hand was a gift he didn’t want to let go of. Leaning on your shoulder while you sat, holding you close to him when it got cold and you forgot to bring a shall, laying his head on your lap. It was all the soft, innocent touch that he wanted. He couldn't go too far however, all of them must remain–friendly? Yes, friendly. Two young teenagers who found comfort in each other. Nothing more, nothing less. But what if he wanted it to be more?

“Hey, Nicola?” It was late in the afternoon. You both decided to walk around the town even if Nicola’s father wanted him home but he never listened to what that bastard had to say. Nicola held your hand as you strolled down the cobblestone streets taking in the setting sun and soon blooming night-life the town had to offer. 

“Yes Darling?” The pet name he honored you with always caused you to shy away. It was subtle this time, but Nicola saw the way you smiled at the ground and felt the way you squeezed his hand a bit more lovingly. 

“Nicola,” Composing yourself, you began again. “What am I to you?” It was an unexpected question and caused him to just barely falter in the pase he set with you but luckily you didn’t notice the slip.

“What are you to me?”

“Yes.” The young girl gazed up at him with brilliant eyes full of adoration. 

Damn it, she’s going to bring me to an early grave.

“You are very special to me my dear. I always look forward to the time we get to spend together.” Then he stopped, turned you to face him, and brought your mouth to his lips. He gave you nothing more than a chaste kiss but somehow, you felt like it was enough for the time being. “There isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you.”  Amore mio, he wanted to add that. How desperately he wanted to add those two small words to fortify this relationship with you. But he couldn’t. He was only 17 and you 16, there was that small chance, that small seed of doubt that, once it takes root, is sometimes impossible to remove. So he remained in this space with you. Mutual pining that neither of you were ready to confront. 

And you were both happy. Soon, when the time was right, you both would express your mutual feelings for each other and from there you would live a long, happy life with him. Oh how silly you were. 

In 1914, an announcement was made, one that many knew was coming. The Kingdom of Italy had officially joined the war. Any young man at the age of 18, would be drafted to fight alongside the Central Powers. And of course Nicola Francessca was one of those chosen men.

It was depressing really, the only ones who saw him off were you, Dante, and Gullia. Dante, of course, held it together better than Gullia did, she practically saw Nicola as her own son. Both of them said their heartfelt goodbyes and they gave you a moment with him. 

“H-”

“You shouldn’t have to go.” You spoke with a strain in your voice and refused to meet his sapphire eyes. Nicola saw as spots of the ground got darker from your falling tears. “But you’re leaving, for who knows how long, and-and I-” You broke the sentence and raised the back of your hand to your hidden face. 

“Hey-”

“How will I contact you? What if they don’t allow letters? Or what if something happens to you? How will Gullia know? How will Dante? How will-”

“Look at me amore mio.”  Nicola’s voice was soft and secure. But the calmness of his tone wasn’t what made you look at him. He’s never called you that before. Nicola wrapped one hand around your head, fingers lacing into your hair, placed his bags on the ground and brought you to his chest. He held you there for who knows how long and the shock on your face must have been a sight to see. “I promise nothing will happen. I guarantee you that I'll only be gone for a few months.” Then he chuckled, the vibrations bringing you some kind of comfort, “Or don’t tell me, you’ve become so attached to the hip that you can survive a few little months without me?” A scoff left your lips. Part of you was upset that he dared tease you at a time like this but a bigger part felt that same comfort you always did. You wrapped your arms around his waist and closed your eyes. You took in the feel of his clothes against your skin. The way his arms felt around you. The scent of the cologne he always wore ever since you bought it for his birthday years ago. But most importantly you listened carefully to his heartbeat.

Thum-bum.

Thum-bum.

Thum-bum.

It truly calmed you. Nicola calmed you. You listened to that steady beat as he held you. 

“I promise, I’ll come back to you. I told you before, there isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you.” His heartbeat didn’t waver. You could trust him.

A sniffle escaped and you buried your face into his uniform. “I’m holding you to that.” A chuckle verberated again in his chest. When the train whistled, you finally broke apart. Nicola wiped the remaining tears from your eyes and picked up his bags. His back turned to you and he walked to the train door entrance, handed the conductor his ticket and that was that.

As you walked back to Gullia and Dante, a dark thought crossed your mind. The thought that that possibly was the last time you’d ever see Nicola again. The tears came again. It was frustrating really. Gullia saw your plight and held you as you both walked. Danted gave you a handkerchief to dry your tears, and you whispered, “There’s still so much I need to tell him. Why didn’t I tell him?” Not knowing what to say, Gullia could only tighten her grip, and Dante held your hand in comfort.

He was a liar Nicola. You knew it was childish but you truly thought that he would only be gone for a few months. A few months had passed and he still wasn’t home. It made you cry even now, as you packed your bags. Burlone had gotten too dangerous with the war. More soldiers had been stationed in town and the government had gotten forceful on many of the residents. You and your Mamma had to leave. She said that you would stay with a family member up north. It was calmer, she claimed. You barely had time to say goodbye to Dante or Gullia. You both made your escape from the town. Two pricey tickets later, you and your Mamma left. You heard her light snores and the clacking of the train filled the ride. As you gazed out the window, the only thing you could think about was how thankful you were to have that last moment with Nicola.

Years passed. 

The war was over.

Italy had won? Lost? You didn't care anymore. Your Mamma had somehow found a way to get your old house back. You didn't think that you would see it again. The sights and sounds. It would take a while but eventually you figured things would return to some type of normalcy. It had been nearly four years since you last saw Burlone. Since you last seen Dante, Gullia-

And Nicola. 

He never wrote to you. There was a small hope that when you got to your old home there would have been a pile of letters just waiting for you, but now. Just a dirty old house. A few neighbors who stayed helped you clean the place up and after a month it began to feel like you could live normally again. You began going out into town more frequently months later. Saying hello to old friends and visiting those who you could remember. And everytime without fail, you'd walk by the Falzone manor. You also never asked about Nicola. It's been long enough now that he would have come to see you. If you hadn't heard a word from him, you just assumed the worst and allowed your heart time to process it.

A few people told you that the Falzone did okay all things considered. There were a few spots here and there while the Kingdom of Italy was stationed here. But the order they kept or tried to keep was to the best of their ability.

"Oh wait, I remember you!" One bar owner exclaimed that caused nearby patrons to look as well, "You were Nicola Francesca's little girlfriend!"

"Well, yes I guess that's me. But I was never-"

"Look at how grown up you are bella! I'm sure Nicola was happy to see you once he got home."

Your head snapped up, "Nicola? He's-he's home? Alive?" 

The bar owner gave a bellowing laugh, seeming unable to understand your shock, "Why of course bella. I think I saw him walking around not too long ago. Went down the street where the cafe is." Last you knew, there wasn't a cafe that way but it's been a while so who knows. You said your thanks, secured the groceries you had, and ran in the direction he pointed. 

There just like he said, was a cafe and there sitting outside of it was Nicola. He looked older which was a given but being apart from him truly made your heart grow fonder. You wanted nothing more than to run to him. Finally tell him everything you should have said at the train station. But why didn't he come to you first? Did he even ask around if you were home or where you were? You didn't care. 

Steeling your nerves, you approached the table. But as you did, another girl sat across from him. She was beautiful to say the least but that wasn't what stopped. What stopped you was how Nicola stood from his chair to give this girl a kiss on the cheek and hold her hand as they enjoyed their coffee. 

What?

You didn't understand it at all. All this time, you thought that he would come home and you both would finally be together. Why, why was your Nicola Francesca flirting with another woman? Your heart dropped and you felt like you suddenly didn't know where you were. Feet remained unmoved as you stood there to witness it all. Only when Nicola laughed did you finally snap out of it. You turned to leave but of course-

"Oh sorry signorina, I didn't- Ah little bambina." That voice and nickname only Marcos ever called you that. 

"Hello Marcos, sorry for bumping into you but I have to leave." You made quick work to pick up the things you dropped. People were starting to stare and you wanted to go home. 

"Didn't realize you were back. It's good to see you again." 

"Same here, look Marcos, if you want to talk later I'm sure mia Mamma would love to have you over. We still live in the same house." Marcos tried to talk to you more but you took your leave. You forced yourself not to look back but you weren't strong enough. With a glance over your shoulder, you saw Nicola stare at your retreating body. Mouth ajar and a mix of shock and something else written on his face.

A day passed, then two, it wasn't until the third day that Nicola showed up at your door. Your mom welcomed him with open arms talking about how handsome he was and how it's been too long. You heard it all from your bedroom upstairs but didn't make an effort to see him. Not until there was a small knock on your door did you move and there he stood. Nicola had on a green button up tucked into his pants. You noticed his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes were the same but different. It still felt like home when you looked at them but it didn't have that same light you once remembered. He also held a bouquet of pink and blue flowers, ones he knew were your favorite. None of that mattered now however.

"Is there a reason you're at my door, Francesca?" 

Ouch, fine, he deserved that one. "I came to see you."

"Yes?" You folded your arms, "Well you've seen me so now you can leave."

He ignored that comment, "I didn't know you were home. I was told that you left town soon after I left. Did you-"

"Why Nicola?" You stopped him before it could go any further. Not wanting to beat around the bush you just cut to the chase, "Why didn't you come see me when I came back?"

"Why didn't you come see me?"

Tears welled up, he had the audacity to throw the question back at you? "I heard nothing from you once you left. I thought you died, Nicola. At the train station, you said you would come back. You said that I was special to you so-so why didn't you-Why did it take you so long?" 

He didn't have an answer.

"An-an-and why," Damnit, keep it together. Do not cry in front of him, it's not worth it. "Why were you with that other woman? Is that what you are now? A shameless flirt? There isn’t ever a moment where I don’t think about you. Did those words mean anything to you Nicola? Because they meant the world to me." 

It was silent and before you knew it, you had closed the door on him. You thought that was the end. Truly you did. But the next night while your mom went to dinner with Marco, Nicola arrived once again. 

"Let me in. Please?"

You sighed and against your better judgment allowed him entry. A shoe box was tucked in his arms. You led him to your room and sat on your bed and him in a chair and waited. 

"I want to explain everything to you and then you can decide if you want me to leave, okay?" You nodded with crossed arms. Nicola then took a deep breath before continuing. “Not that this would make you feel any better, or to make myself look better, but I didn’t write to Gullia either. The only person who I wrote to was Dante.” You scoffed, “Just hold on. There was a reason for it.” The grip he had on the box seemed to loosen as he hung his head. “There was nothing to write home about in the trenches. Everyday I would see someone else lose a life out there. I thought that being in the Mafia I'd seen it all but-There were somethings I just couldn’t get over.” He stopped for a moment. By then you had unfolded your arms and softened your demeanor. You reached out to hold his hand and he turned it over to hold it back tightly.

“Oh Nicola. I had no idea.”

“No. You didn’t. But that’s how I wanted it to be. I’m not the same man I was when I left. No man out there ever comes back the same. Sometimes, while we tried to sleep, they would play loud music or make noise to keep us awake. I thought I would lose my mind. When it was all over, when they said we could go home, I didn't feel like I was good for you any more. I didn’t feel like I was the same man you cared for. The same man that you found comfort in died. I’m all that’s left.”

His breath was shaking. All you could do was sit, hold his hand, and listen. You felt useless but you hoped that it brought Nicola some type of comfort.

“I came home. I did my best to continue where I left off. I asked Gullia about you. She said you had moved to a safer place and felt relieved. I didn’t have to face you as I am now. But then you came back. I saw you on the first day you came to the town. Graceful, talking to everyone like you never left, and all smiles. Beautiful, beautiful smiles. You were so happy, I didn’t want to ruin that. I flirted with other women to forget about you but I knew where my heart lied.” Finally, he let go of your hand. Nicola took the shoe box he had and placed it in your lap; it was heavier than you expected. “I remember everything I said to you at that train station.” He gestured for you to open the box. When you did, the tears that welled up began to fall. 

They were letters in unopened envelopes all addressed to you. You went through a few in Nicola’s presence and continued to cry. All of them talking about how much he missed you. How much he longed to be by your side again. Your heart felt like it would burst from this overwhelming feeling.

There was a raspiness in your voice, “You-you never sent them.”

“It didn’t feel right. I just needed you to know,” Nicola got up and placed his lips against your cheek. One hand played with your hair and he took a deep breath of your familiar scent. The scent and feel of something he missed for so long. “I never stopped thinking about you.”  He kissed your cheek. Then stayed there. In between shaky breaths you said.

“I don’t want you to leave me. Please, not again.”  The breath he held was released, he was at ease with his heart and mind. You brought him into a hug and he wasted no time to return it. He laid you back on the bed and you took him into your chest. He found solace in being with you. As he rested, you played with his hair, running your fingers through them as both your breaths steadied. After all this time, you had him here. He wasn’t going anywhere, you were going to make sure of that. Nicola picked up his head and gazed into your eyes. A hand brushed his bangs out of his face so you could get a better look at him. Yes, he was different. He wasn’t the same; but you didn’t care. He was here and he was yours and you his. He cupped your cheek and brought you in for a kiss. The kiss was years in the making as you both secured the relationship. Your lips meshed with one another in imperfect harmony. It was somewhat unconventional but neither cared. You leaned in more to just taste more of him, all of him. It was intoxicating. 

When you broke apart, his cheek made a home against your neck as you planted kiss after kiss on his head. Nicola wrapped his arms around you and once again laid with you. Playing with his hair, the tears had stopped and you felt like you could breathe once more. He had softly whispered “I won’t leave you again amore mio.” 

You thought back to his words again, “You truly never stopped thinking about me?”

“Not once.”

You smiled and, holding him tighter, responded, “Neither did I."

#nicola francesca #piofiore #piofiore the fated memories #nicola francesca x reader #nicola francesca x fem reader #my witing #streaming archive #piofiore nicola #piofiore x reader #piofiore fanfiction #otome game #otome fandom #otome fanfiction

[niceneo]

@cold-blue-bastard-named-dinner is ableist and dismissed my disability niceneo nation attack

#fern.txt

[always-sunny-in-alaska]

Lets Fang (READER INSERT)

hi i want to post my writing so please enjoy.

You should have noticed the signs of your ‘friend.’ The way he was a little too pale then most on the beach town where it seemed liked the sun never went down.  How he always wore sunscreen and held a blue umbrella with him, even in the late afternoon. You figured he was just eccentric or at least Nordic. 

You should had noticed the way his dark eyes reflected a murky red in the lights of the wafflehouse or how he never seemed to sweat or grow warm. Always cold to the touch. Always clammy. But that didn’t mean anything? Most skinny white boys are cold and awkward.

Even with all the signs, you blatantly didn’t see who Thaddeus Whitlock really was. His name itself should of gave it away, but you didn’t believe in vampires nor any being from old wise tales. It was just the wet dreams of teenages threw out the eras. 

Until it wasnt. 

He effortlessly climbs on top of your body, it shivers in hunger as his cold fingers run up and down your body. Staring up him you’re meet with the hungry primal look that’s dangerous close. Fear spouts in your soul for that moment, it’s uprooted when Thaddeus takes your linked hands and presses them into the pillow to the side of your wet head, kissing you with eager from your lips to your shoulder, half his naked body laid on top of yours. the cold refreshing as your feels like it on fire.    

A snap of a manicured finger snaps you back into the tiny classroom. The girl, Cherry looks at you with a mischivous expression. Cinnamon ringlets framing her doll like face

“You wanna go to Wafflehouse? Maybe drinks? i have sme vodka in my car we can spike the oj.’”

“Well..Sure” you say looking for an excuse but none were appearing. Letting out a faux breath, you gave cherry a tight lip smile and nod. Satisfied with herself cherry turned away to gather a few more classmates for a late night dinner. everyone tend to ignore eachother in night classes, everyone but Cherry understood that most didnt want to be here but because of the unforantue of their daily lives thier cursed to be here. 

you cant help but twitch you eye at the loud wishpers, scanning the room, landing on a duo of familiar faces, the taste of acid in your mouth.              Weston and Steven, two boys you went to high school with and was once close friends. They look over at you, eyes gleaming with shit eatting grin on thier faces.

Weston was a very broad fellow with a blond mullet. Someway, somehow, some hick from the 70s had found thier way into the future. He wore a black Ed hardy T-shirt and jean shorts with American flip flops. His hat was from the construction Bussines he worked on, a father and son construction where the family owning it hasn’t picked up a hammer in decades. 

Steven looks slightly better, he’s the same height as Weston but wider with curly brown hair hiding his small dark eyes. He wears long plaid button up under a north face vest and khaki shorts, with working boots that’s never stepped foot on anything that isn’t pavement. He’s the son from the construction bussines that’s never touched a hammer. 

You ignore them, packing your notebook into your bag. Walking out of the night class, ignoring cherry calling your name. You couldn’t stay in that room. the rotten smell was filling up the room.  If it wasn’t midway threw the last semester you would’ve transferred schools. taken online courses, But since it’s only few more week untill graduate, you decide to suck it up and control yourself from lunging at those bastards.

reaching the front door of the bulidng you realized today was national bastard day. 

“why are you here?” You spoke, voice smooth and even. making a beeline towards the dull yellow Volkswagen, the cool night wind blowing through your hair, The man that sat on the hood seemed to be unphased by your glare.  

There he sat a brooding mess, his lips full and red. In your short amount of years, you had never seen such a bright shade, and for a moment grew jealous of the lipstain. 

You laughed bitterly, ignoring the looks from the man and other students around the parking lot lifting a hand to wipe at his mouth, pulling back once your fingers were the same color at his lips. You gave your fingers a lick. it tingled going down.

“Oh I love Koolaid. Brought me any?” You asked opening the driver side door, tossing the bag of books off your shoulder and into the passenger side. Becoming more aware to the others around to them. The girl jogging towards her car, blooding rushing in her veins. The boy picking a scab as he talked with his friends, the scent of blood rushing to your nose once he broke skin. The smell of the dried roadkill Weston had hit with his large truck. It all attacked you. 

The man on the car known as Thaddeus noticed your actions. 

“No” he smirked, focusing you in front of him, you held your keys tightly, so tightly that one of the keys started to bend. 

“I have some at home though. Come with me?” Thaddeus asked, it caused another laugh from you. 

“No I’ll make my own.”

“Your sloppy at- at making Koolaid. You don’t know the rules.” Thaddeus insisted, turning around to face you. 

“I know enough. Never got in trouble making Koolaid before.”

“Not yet.”

“Well let me know when the Koolaid police come around. Now get off my hood I have places to be.” You huffed, before flinging youself into the car. Thaddeus frowned and looked at you with a surprised and offended look threw the window. You turned on your car and revered up the engine. Not afraid to sling the man off. He would be fine, you’ve done it a few times. 

“Fine.” He huffed before sliding off, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his outfit. A billowy white blouse with black trousers. Absolutely overkill for a community college parking lot. Even without the red cape. 

His lips are on your neck, the feeling of totally euphoria rides threw your body. Hands are clawing at his back, no matter how hard you dig into him, he never has a scratch on him. Another red flag. You feel his lips attack your neck, too soft. Too soft for your liking. You like to see the aftermath of a love session. The mistake rolls off your tongue in such smooth honey that Thaddeus doesn’t disobey the pleas. 

Your grip on the wheel loosen as Thaddeus walks out of the parking lot and into the woods, totally not strange.

 With sigh you pulled out of the parking lot not paying mind to your appearance as it slowly shifted, you tugged down the turtle neck, letting the wounded neck breath. The bite mark was now scarred but it still looked bruised and totally noticeable, not even your novice make up skills could cover it up. 

Oh, the woes of a newborn vamprie.

#story #vampire #fanfics #creative writing #writeblr #My writing #orignal story #part one #Lets Fang #twilight #meets #what we do in the shadows #and has a baby

[bunny-rambles]

1. from now on i will just start thinking that sandrone is actually the name of the ruin guard lol he is indeed a big guy

and speaking of xiao! baby's name actually doesn't mean small (it's written with a different character), according to the liyue archon quest i think his name means swiftness, but it sounds homophone to the word that actually means small (which still reads xiao) so ye xiao smol bby uwu

1.1. not to thirst on main but new dottore can do with me as he pleases LMAO

is he evil? oh yes. but like, as a scara simp, can i really judge? of course i can't. and he is so damn hot so, yeah.

pantalone pantalone i can't wait to know his real name so i can stop calling him that and laugh. but i agree, slimy bastards with a oh so clear evil personal agendas make my heart go all soft :'

also funny story about my pulls!!! in my quest to c6 heizou i did like 20 extra pulls to get him, failed to get him, and got qiqi instead. which, i mean, i was happy about because yay!!! early guaranteed for the sumeru boys!!! but then i did an extra 20 pulls and oh well, i got kazuha. so now i have a c2 kazuha and c6 heizou is still not home lol. hopefully he'll come home soon sigh (but if i get an early 50/50 lost again i mean i won't complain)

2. ohohoh soft pastel blue so cute!!! <3

i'm more of an intense blue kind of shade, like that deep greenish blue colour the sea gets on a sunny day, so it's perfect! we can actually be irl xingqiun :33

and speaking of irl, i mean, if you ever happen to come to italy you're more than welcome to say hi and get your full course italian dinner (with gelato, our gelato is like the best in the world i take no criticism) like we do with friends on nights we have an empty house lol

2.1. oooh snow, snow!! i like snow, when it snows here (like once every five years :')) i always get excited like a child. tho like, what i like most about snowy days is staying at home with hot chocolate and a book ahah

also dw, we can be equally bad at taking compliments together, i don't fare much better :'

3. giant strawberry! and also by quoting that movie you like unlocked my childhood :' hhh although i am rather smol so like, i'd be a rather lil giant strawberry :33

speaking of strawberries, i will now go and fetch my cold strawberry tea, as it's starting to be late and i want to go sleep with something sweetish

here it's so freaking hot so i'll hope you're not succumbing to heat as well :' in any case, remember to always drink a lot! summer is a season where you can have all sorts of delicious cold drinks, so that's good :3

buonanotte bunny, have a great every hour of the next days :33

lots of hugs,

- 🍓

1. Swift, small lil baby that I will give kisses to. Squish his cheeks and pet his hair mwah mwah sweet baby of mine <3

1.1. I so get it. Like yeah he did bad things and he’s a bad guy but isn’t that his appeal in the first place,,, evil geniuses own my heart I guess,,, corrupted albedo <33

1.2. Heizou has just been avoiding me like the plague, I’m trying to get cons for him and he just,,, won’t come,,, I’m gonna get Kazuha again at this point before he comes. Not complaining,,, but still. Tbh, little ramble time, and some context

I have three servers I play on and they’re all very different. Europe is my main one with Kazuha, Albedo and others (these two are my main units and never leave the team, I literally can’t function without Albedo’s flower sometimes,,,)

The second server, american one, I have Hu Tao, Ayaka and now Itto as the main units (ayaka is kind of interchangeable but itto has become kind of permanent) and I really, REALLY, want Heizou cons for this server. I don’t mind not getting Kazuha because I play these servers for different experiences, different comps and characters that make the game more interesting and fun so I’m not doing the same thing, but I swear I’ll just get Kazuha again before that stupid detective gives me just ONE of his cons OTL

2. I would love that, the fact you offered something like that means a lot to me, and maybe one day if I’m in Italy and I don’t feel too awkward, I may take your offer up on that if you’re comfortable with it <3 (btw that intense sea blue is still a very beautiful colour, you still have good taste !!) Xingyun supremacy :,)

2.1. I actually had to read back my last ask to see the context behind this lmfao but anyway snow is my favourite weather, I love watching it from my window and love being out in it when it first falls. And making fresh footprints in the snow is the most satisfying thing on this planet I take no criticism.

3. I’ll just imagine the strawberry from the movie, and I’ll carry you around while you ramble about Scara and tea and your au ideas and all the other things you find interesting, I’ll be happy to just listen <3

4. Good fucking lord no I’m not doing well at all with this heat but I’ll be okay I think. Strawberry cold tea sounds so refreshing, I hope it cooled you down and I’ll get a drink of my own now :,)

ti voglio bene, mio dolci amico <33

#bun speaks #🍓 anon

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Six

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings:  Angst, Fluff, Near-Death, Smut (Oral, F receiving), 

Word Count: 4K

A/n: I think that this series has a vibe that is very blue and grey. Like, if I could associate the feeling with a colour it would be like a dark blue and light grey. Idk it’s just how I feel. I also have a playlist that I might drop for this series cause it’s gotten me writing soooo much. Anyway, I loved writing this part and I hope you guys like it!!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

~*~

Your head tilts back, a melodic laugh falling from your pretty lips, and Steve smiles warmly down at you.

James watches from the library window as his husband drapes his cloak over your shoulders, keeping you warm as the two of you walk through the falling snow in the gardens.

“You called for me, your Majesty?” James turns to the voice, nodding and waving the doctor over.

“What I am about to tell you remains between us and us alone, do you understand?” The doctor nods slowly, confused beyond his wits.

“I have been experiencing thoughts that are not my own. I fear my mind... it is not mine. I know not how nor why, but I... I feel as if someone has taken hold of my mind and my body.” The doctor is silent, his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.

“Can you elaborate a bit, your Majesty? I... I don’t think I’m understanding.” James nods, sighing heavily.

“I... I have blank spaces in my memory. I awake in places where I have not gone and I have bruises and marks that I do not remember acquiring. It is as if I am not in control of my own body at times.” Banner ponders this for a moment before nodding.

“If you follow me, I’d like to do a few inspections to see if there is anything on the surface that could be of any use in figuring out what exactly is happening to you.”

The King follows the Doctor to his office, sitting down upon the operation table.

The Doctor’s cold fingers probe along the King’s hairline, feeling for any unusual bumps or scratches.

Just as he’s about to give up, he feels a ridge along the base of the King’s skull.

“Lean forward, Your Majesty.” He complies, leaning forward and dropping his head to give the Doctor a better view of the spot in question.

“An incision has been made here. And not by me. It has been stitched expertly. Were I not so trained I would have missed it. Your concerns are very valid, your Majesty. Should I call in King Steven and tell him the news?” James shakes his head immediately.

“If this has been done without even my noticing, it has been done by someone close and near. We cannot risk them finding out. Steve cannot know, and neither can (Y/n).” The very mention of your name has his blood boiling for some reason.

“Your Majesty... may I ask... what thoughts are you having that have been so concerning?” The King sighs, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I fear that whoever has done this to me has done it with the intention of ruining my marriage and destroying my kingdom right from the inside. With the very thought of my husband or my wife, I am filled with anger unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It fades as days pass, and then it will be brought back out of the blue.” The Doctor purses his lips, trying to piece things together.

“May I take a few tests? I would like to analyze some samples. Perhaps they can bring us closer to figuring out what has happened.” The King nods, laying down and allowing the doctor to do whatever procedures he’d like.

“Must you go?” You ask sadly, looking down at where your hand is linked with Steve’s.

“Unfortunately I must. I would much rather spend time with you, however, the council has urgent matters that must be discussed. I will join you for dinner, on that I promise.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Do you think James will join us tonight?” You ask softly. Although he hasn’t been the kindest to you, you were enjoying the time you spent with him and are missing his presence.

You have hardly seen him since the day he and Steve came to your chambers.

“I cannot guarantee it. I hope he will, but I do not think we will be so lucky.” You nod sadly, sighing when he lets go of your hand.

He cups your cheeks in both of his warm hands, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. Your heart races in your chest and you hold onto his wrists, leaning up into the gentle touch of his lips against your own.

Your eyes stay closed as he pulls away and he chuckles softly, pecking your lips once more before stepping backwards.

“I will come to find you as soon as I can, my love.” With that, he takes his leave. A smile spreads on your face and you sigh like a young maiden in love.

The thought takes you by surprise and you realize that you could very much be falling in love with Steve. He’s kind and gentle with you, and he’s taken the time to get to know you. He’s a man that you would willingly marry.

You’re getting ready to head back inside when you’re intercepted by a knight.

“Your Majesty.” He bows deeply then stands back up, a smile on his face.

“Do you require something?” You ask. He nods, offering you his arm.

“I have been ordered by King James to escort you to the stables. He wishes to go riding with you.” Your heart jumps in your chest, excitement filling you at the thought of getting to spend time with your other husband.

The knight is swift in his walk and you nearly have to jog to keep up.

You find it slightly strange that James would want to go riding when the snow is starting to fall harder, but you pay it no mind.

The knight helps you up onto your horse when you get to the stables, a smile on his face.

“The King wishes to meet you out past the stream. It is ten minutes west. He is eager to see you.” You nod, gathering the reins in your hands and thanking the knight as your horse leads you through the growing snow.

Steve’s cloak does little to keep you warm as the wind blows hard against you. Even through the layers of your dress and your coat, the coldness seeping through and chilling you straight to your core.

You’re not sure how many minutes go by, but the snow is thickening quickly, and before long you can hardly see in front of yourself.

“James!” You shout, trying desperately to find the King.

Your horse slows, not liking the storm. She turns you in a circle then huffs out a breath through her nose.

You’re about ready to head back when she suddenly raises up onto her hind legs, sending you falling to the snow beneath you.

You yelp out in pain as you break your fall with your arm, pain shooting up.

The wind howls in your ears as you push yourself to your knees, fear grabbing your heart and making it race as you struggle to see past your nose.

Snow gathers in thick clumps on your eyelashes, weighing them down and adding to the struggle.

“Aryo!” You call out for your horse, pushing yourself to your feet and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and preserve what little heat you have left.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re alone, your horse long gone to find shelter in the storm. You don’t blame her. You would have abandoned yourself too.

Teeth chattering, you try and find any trace of a path to follow back to the Palace as the storm rages on around you.

“Is that the Queen’s horse?” Nat asks, looking out the window at the blizzard.

James is on his feet in an instant, looking out the window then at the redhead.

“Where is she?”

She shakes her head, “Steve dismissed me. But he’s in a meeting now. I would have thought she’d come back but I haven’t seen her since.”

Before she’s finished speaking, James is sprinting down the stairs.

He pays no mind to the snow, feet pulling him to the stables as the stable boy tries to calm down your mare.

“Where is the Queen?” He asks desperately, shouting over the wind. The stable boy shakes his head.

“I was dismissed by a member of the guard. He had the queen with him and the last I saw she was riding west.”

The colour drains from the King’s face as he looks towards the dark clouds rolling in.

“Get me my horse. Now!” The boy turns and runs to get the King his horse, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

“You’re going out there?!” He turns around to face Natalia, nodding. “She’s out there and she may be in danger. I know Steve would not entrust anyone but Sam or you to escort her anywhere.” His conversation with Doctor Banner earlier rings in his mind and he feels fear claw its way up his throat.

“Have a warm bath prepped. Bring all the furs from the entire Palace to her chambers and have the fire ready. And find Steve as soon as you can.” The stable boy brings over James’ horse and the King is mounted upon his stallion and taking off into the storm.

You don’t know where you are or where you’re going. You can hardly feel your body. Everything is so heavy and you want to take a break, rest your eyes for a moment to regain your strength.

You stopped shivering a while ago.

Trudging through the knee-high snow, you blow warm air onto your frozen hands, trying desperately to warm something up. Shivering was so much better than this.

Something catches on your shoe and you fall face-forward into the snow with a yelp.

Instead of standing up, you roll onto your back, eyes half-open as snowflakes kiss your face.

Just a moment. That’s all you need. A moment to rest.

Your eyelids flutter closed and warmth settles into your limbs.

In the distance, you swear you hear someone calling your name, and you can’t help but smile. In this vast expanse of nothing but white... he cares for you.

Even if he’s only a figment of your imagination, he cares.

You’re jolted back to reality by the sound of your name being bellowed close by. Eyes heavy with snow, you slowly look around, neck stiff and frozen.

James jumps down from his horse, your figure barely visible through the snow.

“(Y/n)!” He sprints to you, foot slipping on a patch of ice and nearly pulling him to the ground.

His arms are cradling your frame as soon as he’s close enough, one hand pushing the snow out of your face and pressing his fingers to your neck.

“Oh thank the gods,” he whispers, your pulse like a drum grounding him.

He hauls you up into his arms and climbs onto his horse, the stallion taking off through the snow.

“Stay with me, (Y/n), please,” He murmurs, warm lips pressing against your frozen forehead.

Your eyes fall closed again and he has to take deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

Only when the Palace comes into view does he allow himself to feel any form of hope.

He rides right up to the front doors then slides off his horse, your body held securely in his arms. Guards are already waiting, one taking care of his horse while the others lock the Palace doors and clear a path for the King.

He swears he’s never moved this fast in his life.

The door to your chambers is open and as soon as he’s inside, Natalia is pulling you from his grip and hauling you right in front of the fire.

He kicks his shoes off and shrugs out of his coat.

“Get her out of her clothes,” he orders, pulling off his trousers and stripping until he’s nearly naked.

Nat does as ordered, confused until he lies down next to you, pressing your freezing body against his and pulling the furs overtop of the two of you.

The fire burns hot against his face but it’s doing its job.

Soon enough he can feel you breathing heavier against his chest.

"Where is Steve?” The brunet demands, looking over at Nat. She shakes her head. “With the council still. I tried getting him but they would not allow me entrance.” James sighs, tucking your head between his shoulder and his neck and smoothing his flesh hand over your back, hoping the friction will warm you up faster.

Nat takes her leave, hoping to find Steve, and James scoots the two of you closer to the fire.

When you let out a sharp breath then start violently shaking in his arms he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You’re burning. Tiny needles are prickling your skin all over and it won’t stop. There’s a clattering noise that is absolutely annoying you and you recoil away from the heat.

It’s only when your face gets smushed further against a hot chest that you realize the chattering is your teeth.

“You’re okay,” a deep voice whispers, lips pressed against your frozen hair.

“I-It hurts,” you croak, throat sore and aching.

“I know, dove. I know.” His nose is buried in your hair, warm tears dripping from his eyes as he hugs you close to his chest.

The pain slowly fades and you sigh gratefully, bringing your hands up to press your frozen fingers against his warm torso.

The muscles in his abdomen clench at the contact and he lets out a sharp breath.

“You’re so cold,” he whispers, bringing a leg over yours to drape you in more of his body heat.

Your toes press against his other thigh and he groans.

“S-sorry,” you manage to get the word out without biting your tongue.

“Shh. It’s alright. Just warm up. You’re alright.” You nod, cold lips brushing against his chest. You press the tip of your nose against his skin and the contact nearly burns.

He presses kiss after kiss to the top of your head, thankful his body is always warm.

You gradually stop shivering but he doesn’t let you go, far too terrified that this is the last time he’ll get to hold you.

It’s only when you pull back to look at him that his arms loosen.

You notice his red eyes and instantly frown.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice is hoarse and he makes a note to get Wanda to bring you some tea.

“I...” He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and kissing your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hot tears dripping down onto the furs beneath the two of you.

“For what?” You’re genuinely confused.

“Everything.”

“James, look at me.” He does so, reluctant but desperate to see you. Your lashes are wet and you can’t tell if it’s from the snow or your own tears.

“I’m alright. Without you, I wouldn’t be here. You saved my life.” He shakes his head, sniffling and squeezing you tighter to his chest.

“Why were you out there by yourself?” His voice is weak and muffled but the question confuses you.

“I was told that you wanted to meet me out there. A knight escorted me and delivered me the message. I was confused because it was snowing but I was eager to spend time with you.” He shakes his head, dread settling in his gut as he realizes that someone is indeed trying to sabotage his marriage.

“Did the knight give you his name?” You shake your head, fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“I never told anyone anything. I was with Doctor Banner for a better portion of the day.” Your brows furrow and you pull back to look at him.

“If it was not you who sent for me... why would...” You trail off, eyes widening.

“He meant for me to die out there, didn’t he?” James swallows hard then nods, sighing heavily.

“That’s how it would seem. I do not know if those were his intentions and we will need to question him. But that all comes second.”

You snuggle against his chest further, his warmth and scent engulfing you and making you feel beyond safe.

“James?” You ask softly, pulling back again to look at him when he doesn’t answer.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” The heartbreak in your voice makes him want to die. He presses his forehead against yours and his lips quiver.

“I am terrified of being near you because all I have ever done is bring you pain. I do not wish to do that. Not ever again.” You bring one hand up and cup his face, wiping a tear off of his cheek.

“The only way you will bring me pain is by pushing me away. I miss you.” Your eyes flash down to his lips then back up to his eyes.

“With every day that goes by and I do not see you... I am saddened. We did not start our marriage well, but we can fix it. Please, James, don’t push me away anymore.” Your pleading breaks his heart and he nods, sniffling again.

“If I ask something of you... will you do it?” You ask softly. He nods without hesitation.

“Anything.”

You wait a beat, your heart thumping hard in your chest.

“Kiss me.” His eyes flash open and he pulls back to look at you. When the edges of your lips curve up he nods again, leaning down slowly.

His warm lips meet yours in a kiss that is filled with unspoken words and forbidden feelings. Tears cascade down his face and he leans further into the kiss, pushing himself up onto his metal forearm and rolling slightly until you’re on your back and he’s on his side. His flesh hand comes up to rest gently on the side of your neck, the thumping of your pulse beneath his fingers enough to have him relaxing.

Your hands come up instinctively to his hair, fingers tugging through the damp strands as you share your first real kiss with your husband.

His tears drip onto your face and you feel your heart break for him. You pull him closer, leg lifting and hitching around his waist to bring him flush against your body.

It’s like he’s never touched you before.

The feeling of your breasts pressing against his bare chest combined with the way you’re pulling him tight against you is enough to have him stirring in his britches.

He pulls away, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs. You sigh, fingers threading through his glorious locks. “You won’t. I just want to feel you. Have you close to me. Please.”

The look on your face has his resolve crumbling and, as if smelling your success, you pull him down, lips crashing against his.

“Will you let me try something? To make you feel good?” He asks breathlessly against your mouth. You’re not sure if anything can feel better than this but you’re more than willing to try.

He trails kisses down your body, taking a moment to pepper them over the soft skin of your breasts. His tongue flicks over your right nipple for a moment before retreating back into his mouth and allowing him to continue kissing down down down.

When his head is between your legs you push onto your elbows, nervous about having him somewhere so intimate.

“Relax. It won’t hurt, I promise.” You take a deep breath and nod, relaxing slightly as he presses gentle kisses to the insides of your thighs.

He pulls your legs over his shoulders and traces his tongue over your slit.

You jolt at the contact and he breathes a chuckle before diving in, his tongue working on the little bundle of nerves that makes your toes curl.

“J-James!” You cry, hand instinctively coming to his hair. He loops his arms under your legs, warm hand splayed on your stomach while his cold hand comes to your mound, middle finger slipping inside of you.

He’s gentle, thrusting slowly while his mouth focuses on your clit. Your legs clench around his head as the pleasure builds, a coil tightening in your belly.

A second finger slips inside of you with surprising ease, but you don’t dwell on that for long. His metal digits find the spot inside of you that makes you see stars and, upon hearing the guttural groan of pleasure you make, focus on hitting that spot with every thrust.

Your back arches and your fingers pull his hair so hard that it borders on pain, but one glance at the bliss on your face and the pain is forgotten.

His tongue works your clit while his fingers fuck faster, harder until you’re crying out, legs trembling and face scrunched up in pleasure. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and your slick gushes out around them.

He slowly pulls his fingers from you, cleaning up the mess between your legs with his tongue. The gentle kitten-licks just enough to prolong your climax.

When he finally pulls away and looks at you, you’re already watching him, your chest heaving and sweat glistening on your forehead.

“I suppose we warmed you up, didn’t we?” He asks playfully, grinning when you laugh breathlessly.

He adjusts himself in his pants then lays down with you once again, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What about you?” You ask shyly, glancing down to the tent in his underwear.

“I can handle it, dove. You need your rest.” You cuddle up against him on the makeshift bed, the crackling of the fire and the feeling of his fingers tracing up and down your spine lulling you into a deep sleep.

He holds you in his arms, mind racing to who might want you out of the kingdom and why, and then to Steve. Steve who’s been gone for a suspiciously long time. Steve who’s supposed to be in a meeting with the council conveniently at the time of you disappearing.

When the blond in question is finally free from the council, Natalia is there to tell him what happened.

He’s bursting into your chambers moments later, his heart in his throat until he sees you asleep with your head on James’ chest, the brunet holding you close to his body beside the smouldering embers of what must’ve been a roaring fire.

A small smile spreads over his face and he closes the door, taking off his shoes and stripping down to his underwear.

He climbs onto the thick cushion of furs, shimmying beneath the blankets draped over your frame and placing his arm over your waist, hand resting against his husband’s stomach.

James reaches down and squeezes Steve’s hand gently, meeting the blond’s eyes over your head.

“What happened?” He asks softly, not wanting to wake you up.

“She was set up,” James replies, his eyes full of so many emotions.

“By who?” James shakes his head, sighing heavily.

“We have much to discuss, but it can wait until morning.” Steve nods in agreement, pressing his body against yours.

You sigh, sandwiched between their warmth and lost in a deep sleep.

Steve is pressed against your back and James against your front, the two holding onto each other’s arms over your waist.

And at that moment everything is as it should be. As it should have been in the first place.

But James knows that this may be only temporary unless they can find the traitor responsible for nearly killing you.

He hopes to the Gods that they find whoever it is soon because now that he has you in his arms, he never wants to let you go.

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