Tumgir
#forbidden love
wiltedloves · 3 days ago
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a rose by any other name. r. lupin. ( royal au! )
summary —you, a princess set to marry an unwilling sirius black find yourself enchanted by the newest addition to your staff and realise that love isn't false vows and hateful silence during wedding nights. it's beautiful, and synonymous with the name remus lupin.
warnings —reader and sirius' parents are collective parts of the antichrist. very very very minor nsfw but no actual smut ( -16 dni !! ). sirius and the reader have no romantic feelings towards each other. 💞
word count —5k
note —everybody say thank you @pogueswrld for giving me the nicknames remus calls the reader 💕
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the playlist
SUN SHONE BETWEEN CLOUDS and gentle wind sent glistening ripples through the pond that you found yourself seated before. Grass tickled the areas of skin that your nightgown failed to cover and the faintest touch of morning dew cooled your legs. Squirrels scampered down cracked bark in search of food, birds leapt from thin branches in glorious flight, rabbits scurried over golden foothills. It was serene, blissful and unbothered. The sun shifted from behind its wispy prison to fully beat down on you, a silent good morning, and you smiled—something you hadn't done a lot as of late.
When songbirds chirped from above you, you knew that your peace was fleeting and soon you'd be left with stress and lecturing mothers. It would be at least ten minutes before your ladies-in-waiting came padding along the recently-cut grass with summons from your mother, but your bliss was already bothered and you saw no point in trying to restore it, so you stood and wordlessly made your way back to the palace.
Your bare feet thudded against the cold stone steps leading to your quarters when the shrill voice of your family's head of staff, and your mother's chief lady-in-waiting, cut through the silence. "My lady," she chastised upon seeing your appearance—dishevelled and unruly with morning entertainment. "You must hurry, your ladies are already waiting for you to welcome the new wave of help." You fought the urge to roll your eyes.
"Why must I be the one to welcome them. Can't mother do it? Or is she too busy courting a married man?" She cut of your words with a quick hit across your jaw, harsh but not strong enough to turn your head. It was obvious, and frighteningly embarrassing, how your mother smiled dazedly at Orion Black when Walburga's back was turned. Everybody knew it, but nobody spoke of it.
"It would do you well to watch your words, mistress. Your mother is doing you a service by marrying you to Sirius, there are much less gentle suitors longing for your name."
"You say such things as if my words ring untrue." She hurried to push you up the remaining stairs towards your bedroom, hurriedly closing the behind you when you entered.
"Milady." Your lead lady-in-waiting, Rosalie, greeted with a small nod.
"Get her ready, fast." The stout woman instructed firmly before hurrying out of the room. Rosalie guided you closer with a soft hold on your arm.
She let out a giggle at your long-set face. "I take it you're not having a good morn, ma'am." She says you down before your vanity, patting your cheeks fondly. "I don't think any of my mornings will be 'good' for the rest of my life." You groaned. "And don't call me ma'am, Rosie, please."
Rosalie smiled, fussing over your hair, slipping silver, ruby-crested floral pins into it. "Well, darling, I'm afraid you could do much worse than a betrothal into the Black family." Her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth as she focused on arranging the pins. "I'd be more than happy to take your place when it comes to making heirs, however." Your eyes widened and you reached out to playfully slap her sides.
"Rosalie Abbot! Retain your dignity, woman." She laughed loudly at your response, but she couldn't fight her proud grin from rising after distracting you from your annoyance.
"What gown are you feeling today, my sweet?" She asked, moving to open the large oak wardrobe in the far corner of your room. "Your mother insisted for one of your finer garments, but I know those can be dreadfully uncomfortable, especially with the corset pieces." Her fingers worked quickly as they flitted through dress, upon dress, upon dress. "Maybe," She drew out her word as she reached to pull out a dress towards the back, "this one." She proudly held a carnation pink gown before her.
It was simple in its elegance, but undoubtedly regal all the same. It paired with a white-lined corset in a matching colour. The sleeve flared with thick strips of white fabric and the skirt was light and airy. You smiled in relief, glad she'd chosen one of your lighter gowns as you knew the hoop and underskirts would threaten to boil you in the summer heat.
Moving back to you, she grabbed your hands and pulled you up to your feet. Kind words flowing from her rouged lips as she fiddled with the ties, strings, and other intricacies of your dress before ushering you out of the room and towards the servants quarters where you soon to be expected.
Horace Slughorn, your family's longest-standing member of staff stood as proudly as a man of his short stature could by the doors leading to the servant's quarters. "Your highness." He greeted you with a familiar smile and a steep bow. You returned the warmth of expression, grateful to the man who'd practically raised you, even though he refused to call you by your name, no matter how many times you requested otherwise. "The new staff, they're all brilliant workers, kind souls as well, I do hope you'll like them." He lent you his arm to loop yours through as he guided you to where they were waiting.
They were a diverse group, a collection of differences blinked back at you when you moved along the long line of them with a welcoming smile and a gentle handshake. Once done with your welcomed, they were lead off one-by-one by your head of staff until only one was left.
Unlike the others who kept their head bowed before you, his chin was held high, making you the one looking up at him as his height taunted you. Your breath caught when you looked at him, fighting the urge to giggle like a school-child. Lord, what was happening to you? Not even a word shared with this man and you felt like kicking your feet in the air and hiding you face in your pillows.
You held your palm before him, stomach turning when he took it in his of gentle warmth. His hands were strong and visibly rough with work. They'd undoubtedly look even more enticing hurriedly untying a corset or hiking up a skirt. His lips were soft, full, and pink. They hung in a loose line and you couldn't help but wonder what they'd look like after kissing your skin. His eyes were deep and dark, something about the way he looked at you sparked images of those same eyes blown wide with lust while moonlight decorated his features. His head ducked to a slight bow. "I'm pleased to be at your service, Ma'am." His voice was rough and coarse—like rock salt, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Your shoulders stiffened and he tried to stifle a smirk.
He knew the effect he had on you.
Your eyes trailed to his clothes and you cursed yourself for your thoughts when you remembered his status and yours. Who were you, royalty soon to be wed, to think such sacrilegious thoughts of him, staff with no respect to his name. But what was a name? It was a word, nothing more, nothing less. It wielded the power one gave it. So what stopped you from stripping him and you of your names, simply existing as longing souls.
You let go of his hand, smiling weakly while fighting the bulging of your eyes once catching your thoughts. Longing? Goodness, you needed a drink, or a bath, or a prayer, or something to stop you from thinking such things of a servant you met mere minutes ago.
•─────────🏹─────────•
She was wearing her cornflower blue gown. It was Monday. Your mother's words were undoubtedly scrutinising, but you didn't process them. Instead, your eyes were trained on the figures passing by the halls. Never before had your staff been so interesting, but something about him made you intrigued. You wanted—no, you needed to see him again.
A loud clang brought you from your searching, eyes now focused on the poised family strutting in to join you and your mother at the centre table. Sirius hurried hurried to sit on your left, Regulus taking your right, while Orion and Walburga sat to the right of your mother.
Walburga's face was set like stone when you reached over to shake her hand, she brushed it to the side and took your left hand in hers. You fought back a wince and the cold you felt from her skin. She ran the tips of her fingers along your ring finger, trying to gage your ring size before dropping it and turning to conversante with your mother.
You looked closer to examine her. Clear silk lining ran along the hem of her skirt and the pufferfish cuffs of her sleeves, green thread intertwining with gold in the most boringly elitist way. Poor people couldn't afford gold linen, so Walburga Black made a point in exclusively wearing garments lathered in it.
Everything about that woman and her family was sickeningly wealthy, even for a royal. The mahogany dining tables with pristine polish and overflowing with lavish meals and jewel-crested chalices. The pearl-circled diamond rings that weighed down her thin, cold hands. The cosmetics that caked her pale cheeks that even your family would struggle to afford in the amounts she so gluttonously applied.
Before you had the displeasure of meeting Walburga Black, you didn't think something as simple as a name would cause you to choke down bile. You now knew you were wrong, so very wrong.
As if sensing your nerves, Sirius placed a hand on your leg. A gesture affectionate enough to con your families into believing romance danced in the air, but with the playful squeeze you'd come to associate with his friendship. That's what lay between the two of you; friendship. Having been betrothed since birth, you'd found out that your fates were intertwined long before your paths and, in some universe, you were soulmates. Sirius Black, your best friend, your future husband.
As much as you adored Sirius, the thought of marrying him made you gag. He was your brother as much as Regulus was his. They were your family. But riches and prosperity looked beyond blood and bond, eyes hungry for for power.
You placed your hand above his, cheekily pinching the back on his hand and rolling your lips to conceal a laugh. Sirius reached to fill three chalices—yours, his, and regulus's—with strawberry juice, smiling like a future husband should when he passed yours back to you, painfully aware of the eyes of your mother and his parents trained on him.
"Drink up, bitch." He coughed into his cup when you kicked his shin, a single drop of juice escaping from his lips and dribbling down his chin. Eyes flashing with panic, you hastily grabbed a napkin and dabbed it from his face before Walburga could notice. You and Sirius had an unspoken rule around your friendship—anything was free game, physical fights, humiliation, mockery, but when the other's family was near, you did whatever you could to keep up appearances. Your mother wasn't a gentle soul, but you knew that compared to Walburga Black, she was a saint.
Hours dragged by like years, and it was only when moon trickled in through the angular stained-glass windows of the grand hall that Orion brought up the notion of calling whatever the gathering was to a close. You hugged Regulus tightly, ruffling his hair, much to his dismay. To Sirius, you gave a much more gracious goodbye; a curtsey and a chaste kiss on the cheek ( with a quick 'fuck you' whispered in his ear, but nobody needed to know that ). Walburga bade you adieu with a curt nod, Orion much the same, and soon you found yourself free of your corset and gown, staring at your bedroom ceiling as midnight shone upon your face.
You tossed and turned, sheets strewn around in messy dismay until you decided to take a walk around the palace to try and urge sleep to take over. Abandoning footwear, your feet padded softly along the cool stone floor while your nightgown hung gently around your ankles.
Your hands traced along the walls, running over the dips and dives in the rock, dancing along the ridges in the golden frames of paintings older than your father. You heard someone walking slowly a few feet before you, their shadow coming to view when they passed a candelabra.
"Hello?" You called out gently, cautious of the echo. The halted in their steps, but said nothing. You soon caught up to them, a familiar feeling growing the closer you got. It seemed as though he was more beautiful in the moonlight.
"Your highness." He dipped his head in a slight bow.
"Please do not call me that."
He met your eyes, mild confusion swimming in his, masked well with confidence. "Then what would you like me to call you?"
"Anything other than that, I plead." He continued walking, slower now so that you could keep pace.
"Alright, anything other than that." His lips quirked in a half-smile at your agitation.
"You know that's not what I meant." You rolled your eyes, though any annoyance was quick to flood away. "So what should I call you?"
"Don't most royals call with snapping fingers or second hand summons?"
"Most royals have their heads so far up their own arses, they can taste their crowns."
A laugh slipped out of him at that, and you felt yourself grow proud at the sound. "With words like that, one could mistake you for a servant yourself."
"Let them, I'd rather be anything than what I am."
"Why so honest?" This made you stop, Remus following suit. Why were you so honest with him?
"You seem trustworthy." You shrugged.
"I've been called worse, I suppose." He grinned.
You continued walking, conversation ebbed and flowed, but, in truth, neither of you cared if the other talked, for an odd comfort was found in them simply being there. Two near-strangers walking aimlessly around a palace at midnight. It almost belonged in a portrait hung front and centre in a gallery, but it never would. It was sacred and secret. It was yours and yours only, something you couldn't say for most things.
He was interesting, still withholding his name, you'd silently chosen to name him Moony. A childish name, really. One you wouldn't be surprised to see pinned as the antagonist in a Little Red Riding Hood ripoff, but one that perfectly belonged to him with the way moonbeams framed his face in an almost cherubic glint. Like a pearl—rich, special, and selective. It felt a privilege to speak with him, status be damned.
You'd found that you were both similar, in a vague way. You liked the same foods, enjoyed the same simplicities of literature and festivals. Although, your opinions differed when it came to the kingdom you were to rule and its inhabitants.
Remus mused something about how the only reason you saw them as decent was because you'd never lived amongst them, and though the same could be said for his view on royals, you kept quiet and wallowed in the passion of his words. He claimed that those under the working class were vial and far crueler than a royal on their worst days. He spoke of crime and deceit and cheating between lovers and family alike. Still, your heart was set on sympathy for them. It confused him as much as it intrigued him.
A yawn creeped past your lips, ones he would vehemently deny staring at, and with a gentle hand placed on his bicep, you asked him to walk you back to your room. He did with what you'd assume was his duty as your staff, but was truly an odd pull to speak with you more, even if sleep laced your words and made your sentences barely comprehensible.
"Can we do this again, Moony?" You asked tiredly, holding onto the golden knob of your bedroom door.
He huffed out an amused laugh, "Moony?" He kept his voice low, careful to not risk waking anyone else dwelling nearby, and the added gruff in his tone made your grip tighten as your knees grew light.
"You refused to tell me your name, so I made one for you."
He nodded, amusement still present while he looked at you. "I can never sleep at midnight, walking helps." He began to walk backwards, towards the servants quarters. "Do with that what you will, sunshine." And with a fleeting wink and a quiet noise you'd swear was a chuckle, he turned his back to you and continued walking.
You caught yourself before you could yell out a question of the name, not bothering to fight the grin that grew. He had a nickname for you. A giggle slipped out before you could stop it and you slapped a hand over your mouth with wide eyes. What was this man doing to you?
•─────────🏹─────────•
Each midnight, you woke. Each midnight, he waiting. Each midnight, you walked. You conversations were versatile, they varied from favourite baked goods—he claimed to forever stand by Bakewell tarts, despite being an avid chocolate lover. You looked at him as if he were insane—to what you'd do when you were inevitably crowned queen and whether or not he'd be allowed in your staff.
"You're certain your husband wouldn't grow envious of my dashing good looks?" He joked one night as you crossed the bridge that stood proudly above the moat surrounding your home. You'd made the daring choice of taking your stroll further, out of the shadows cast in stone hallways and echoing corridors and into the starlight paths of the palace grounds.
"He'd find some way to live, I'm sure." You laughed. "Can't say he won't be over dramatic about it, though. Sirius always had a flair for theatrics?"
"Sirius?" He stopped walking.
"Mhm." You nodded, standing beside him. "It something the matter, Moony?"
"Are you betrothed to him?" You looked up at him, expecting a taunt, but only seeing seriousness and what looked to be worry, but that could be a trick of the light.
"Yes." Came your short reply.
"You don't sound too happy about it."
"Well, I'd assume that's because I'm not."
"Why? Isn't he the one with girls falling at his feet. Surely it would be a girl's dream to marry him." There was a near-bitter lilt in his words.
"Possibly, but I've never wanted to marry into royalty." His rested his elbows on the bridge railing, head turning to you. You had his full attention, like you always did. "I love Sirius, truly. He's one of the few people I can call a genuine friend. But I could never call him a husband and mean it, I think he feels the same. He never wanted to be a prince, you see. It's why he always begs our parents to allow us to the festivals, because, for once, we feel like normal people."
It went silent, but not uncomfortably so. It was the silence that often took hold of the later segment of your walks, the silence you'd grown to yearn for over the past few weeks. It was warm, like a blanket, like Remus. You hadn't realised that you'd moved closer to him until your head rested on his shoulder.
"I feel like a normal person around you, Moony."
Had you looked up and taken your eyes off of the moonbeam ripples in the water below, you would have seen Remus swallow words that danced on the tip of his tongue and wince at the reddish hue rising to his cheek.
"I feel normal around you too, sunshine."
He was lying.
Around you, he felt like a god.
"You make me feel sane, Moony."
He placed his head on top of yours. "You make me feel sane too, sunshine."
He was lying.
You drove him insane and made him fight his desires to grab your face and kiss you until you forgot everything but his touch and his name.
You decided that the night had finally taken its toll on you, and Remus lead you back to your room, waiting until you closed the door to breath out a long sigh and whisper in a voice barely audible to the air around him.
"I'm falling in love with you, sunshine."
He wasn't lying.
•─────────🏹─────────•
"Have a thing for stable bucks now, do you?" Sirius asked with a smirk, laughing at the panic in your eyes when your head snapped towards him.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you've been staring at that tall specimen for longer than I've been talking, and I've been talking for a while now, sweets." You looked down at your cup, swirling around the remmenants of your now-cold tea with a bashful grin that Sirius knew all too well. "Oh my days, you care for him!"
You all but leapt across the table to cover his mouth before someone heard. "Would you ever shut up?" You hissed.
"You're not denying it." For a fiancé after catching his bride-to-be ogling at another, Sirius was marvellously entertained. "It's fine if you do, darling. It means you won't be entirely miserable when our doomed day arrives."
The room grows solemn, something that rarely happened between you and Sirius. Then again, you'd both done everything you could to avoid the topic of your wedding. You picked at your cuticles and Sirius looked at you with worry, pained at your distress.
"Have you ever thought about running away?" You asked him, finally looking up from your nails. Sirius blinked once, then twice, then once more for good measure, reassuring himself that it was, in fact, you who posed such a question.
"Every damned day." He huffed, falling back into the plush cushions of his chair.
"Why don't you?"
"Honest answer?" You both sat forward now, leaning close so that Sirius could whisper his answer after your nod. "I could never find it in myself to leave you alone."
"What if we ran away together?" Your eyes unwillingly flitted towards Remus when you spoke and, at that, smile threatened to grow on Sirius' lips.
"How serious are you for pretty boy over there?"
"Honest answer?"
"Always."
"Frighteningly so." Sirius laughed fondly at the stress on your face. "I've never felt this way about anyone, Siri, it's odd."
"Maybe you're in love." He shrugged and your eyes widened at how he could say such things with such nonchalance.
"Love?" The word seemed foreign.
"He'd be daft to not be in love with you as well." He continued. "Hell, if I hadn't been there when you ate mud because I told you it was 'nature's chocolate', I'd be in love with you too." He tossed a grape into his mouth. "You need to start recognising your worth, dear."
"Where are you going with this?" You tried to veer the conversation away from what you were terrified was the truth.
"Run away with him."
"I cannot leave you, Sirius, I wouldn't be able to live with it." You reached across the table to take his hand in yours.
"I'll hide away in my room for a few days, then flee myself. Maybe we'll meet again by the seaside some day."
"You truly have gone mad."
"Maybe." He mused, free hand loving to cover yours. "But I know that you've got more life left in you that I do, and I'll be damned if I let this stupid wedding crush that." Your eyes threatened to well up in uncharacteristic vulnerability. "You're the only thing that's given me hope in all of my years. You've made me happier than words can say, so if you think I won't give up my life to grant you the same, then your far more dim-witted than I gave you credit for."
"He'd think I'm insane."
Sirius shrugged. "If he says no, the he says no, and we move on to have a more caring marriage than these families have ever seen. Or he says yes, and we both get to run to what we truly wish for."
You narrowed your eyes at him. "I do hate when you're wise."
Orion called his name from the door, saying how their carriage had just drawn outside. Sirius nodded dutifully and kissed your forehead. "Promise me you'll ask him, angel?"
You squeezed his hand. "I promise."
•─────────🏹─────────•
Grass tickled the sides of your face as you lay down, Remus by your side, and early morning on your skin. Sirius' words danced on your mind, and your promise to him echoed through your skull. With a deep breath, you turned your head to the side and looked at Remus directly.
"You alright, sunshine?" He asked, eyes raking across your face in search of an answer.
"Will you run away with me?"
He went silent. Your heart stopped.
He stayed silent. Your heart broke.
You rose your feet and went to go back inside while Remus' mind whirred.
You were royal, labelled as desirable artwork. But Remus Lupin seemed to have forgotten that, or maybe he was simply too fond of the view, for he was close to you. So close he could see them, hell, if he wanted to, he could reach out and feel the ridges or the brushstrokes that made you. The imperfections that suitors stayed far enough away to ignore.
What they felt was lust. Lust for you, lust for your name, and lust for the power that came with them both. What Remus felt was different. Dare he say it was love? Love for you, love for your banishment of his name, love for every book and cranny that rose and fell with your breath.
And he knew of the risks. Remus Lupin was far from a man of little intelligence, he knew what he would have to sacrifice in hopes of holding her close, but none of it mattered.
Sacrifice and sacrilege was pushed aside when it came to women such as Y/n L/n, for she was everything the sun could grant you. She was the fresh promise of tomorrow's dawn to guide you through turbulent seas.
When you meet someone like her, when you touch someone like her, when you love someone like her, you never stop. It becomes you infatuation, it becomes so vital to you everyday thoughts that it ends up being your reason to push through smoke and continue your days.
Remus would throw it all away from her, she was his sun, his moon, his future, and his past. She was his life, and he swore from when he was a boy that he would live to the fullest. He reached out and grabbed your wrist. "Please don't go."
A tense moment passed.
"Please, Sunshine."
"If you're going to deny me, all I ask is that you do it with mercy—"
Your words were caught of his the passion that came from warm palms cupping your cheeks and pulling your body flush with his.
"I could never deny you anything. If you asked for a ray of the sun, you'd find the star waiting by your door before an hour could pass. You have done nothing but plague my every moment, woken or resting, I cannot escape you. I don't want to. But you need to understand what comes with what you've asked of me. We will be outlaws. We will be on the run for the rest of our lives. We will have no settled roof over our heads. No home."
Your hands rested on the back of his neck, pulling him closer until your noses brushed. "When I'm with you, I am home. When I look at you, it's as if breath has been stolen from my lungs and is pushed back to my body when you speak. I need nothing of material nor substance so long as I'm with you."
"Can I kiss you?" He was so close that you could practically feel the words as the flowed from his lips, and your eyes were already fluttering shut when you replied.
"Please."
Being truly vulnerable with someone is a privilege, for them and for you. The ultimate trust of seeing and revealing the honesty of yourself. Kisses can be controversial. They can be used as manipulation, as currency, as lies.
But right now, in that moonlight moment in a palace garden, a kiss was god. An act with so many meanings used to show every emotion words failed to portray. Every ounce of love, every piece of you was poured into that kiss. In such a universal act, you were wrapping up your entity and handing it to Remus with a bright red bow on top.
And Remus. Remus was lost for the longest time, simply floating until he found you. But this kiss, this moment, was tethering, it was the roots of a tree planted centuries ago. It was everything he had longed for, everything he missed, and everything he had once more.
You were everything. You were his, just as much as he was yours, and what more could one ask for?
If love truly was real, and not a feeble thing from fables and folklore, then you were certain you'd found it in him. In the tattered clothes and scarred planes of parchment-shaded skin that could mean no other saint that Remus John Lupin, you'd found love.
It was clear that he'd found it in the eloquent tongue and extravagant gowns of you as well. Indisputable adoration seeping through the cracks of his hands as his fingers traced over every inch of your self, and a tone more gentle that a fairy's whisper when he spoke to you. He'd found love.
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fandomrantsandtwittertakes · 9 months ago
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happyheidi · 27 days ago
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forbidden love
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kinanabinks · 2 months ago
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Biker Blood 🏍 P3
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18+
A second date with Steve comes quicker than you expected it to, and it doesn't end at all how you predict.
Content Warning: Biker!Steve x Neighbor!Reader, mature themes, angst, mention of a dead parent, fluff, sexual tension, smut (kissing, dry humping, daddy kink, dom!steve).
Series Masterlist
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Rogers
Lonely n thinking of a pretty girl.
You
Feel bad for the girl.
Rogers
What are you thinking of right now?
You
Right now?
This schedule on my desk.
Rogers
Forget about that, fif
Come see me during your lunch break
Got something to show ya
"Y/N, you done with that PR schedule?" John asks, pulling your attention from your phone. He rolls his eyes when he sees what you're doing, leaning against the doorframe. "I don't wanna have to reprimand you for being on your phone during work hours."
"So, don't," You say, putting your phone down. "I'm almost done; I'll drop it off to Lemar once it's ready for you to sign off on."
He slowly nods before making his way into your office, closing the door behind him. "Got any lunch plans?"
You glance down at your phone which is still displaying your text conversation, before looking back up at John. "Yeah, actually," You tell him while typing your reply to Steve.
You
No, thanks.
"For real?" John asks you. "Was hoping I could take you out to Guigino's."
"Really?" You question, raising a brow. "What for?"
He shrugs, walking over to sit opposite you. "Thought it'd be nice. You know, Y/N and John, eating Italian and shooting the shit. Having a good time."
Your phone buzzes with a text, and you open it while replying to John. "Sorry to disappoint," You say absentmindedly. "Maybe tomorrow?"
Rogers
You're breaking my heart, baby
I wanna see you.
"Ah, it's alright," John assures you before leaning forward. "How about dinner tonight, instead?"
Putting down your phone, you sigh. "John, we've been through this before. Many, many times."
"What?" He asks between laughs.
"Stop asking me out," You say sternly. "It's just embarrassing for us both when I have to turn you down."
"I'm not asking you out!" He claims, holding his hands up in surrender. "Is it a crime for two people who work together to go for dinner? And what's the difference between lunch and dinner?"
"The difference is that you ask me to come over to your place after dinner so you can fuck me and then fire me, just like you did to Lois," You tell him, clenching your hands into fists. "All I'm asking for is that you show me respect. I am not just something pretty for you to look at. Something for you to lust after. Something for you to win. I am your equal. I work for you, sure, but do not ever think that that means I'm subordinate to you. Do you understand me, John?"
Taken aback, he lets out a quick breath and nods. "Understood," He utters, and you can tell that it's almost painful for him to say it. With that, he stands up and makes his way to the door. "I'll, uh, be waiting on that schedule."
"It'll be ready before lunch," You mutter, looking back down at it.
He goes to leave, but it's as though something pulls him back. Resting his fist on the doorframe, he looks back at you. "For what it's worth, I didn't fire Lois because of our personal relationship. She was my campaign manager; I no longer had any need for her."
Holding back your eye roll, you purse your lips. "However you wanna see it, John."
Once he's gone, you pick up your phone and reply to Steve.
You
Be ready in 30
I'm taking you out for sushi
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"This stuff," Steve begins, waving a thin slice of pickled ginger between his chop sticks. "Is like fucking crack."
You laugh heartily at him, swallowing your bite before replying. "Have you ever done actual crack?"
That makes him smirk as he leans forward. "Why? You think just 'cuz I'm a biker, I smoke crack?"
"I mean, Uncle Vinnie did every drug under the fuckin' sun," You tell him, grinning. "So, yeah."
Steve shakes his head, smiling nonetheless. "Have you ever smoked crack?"
"Never," You say truthfully. "But, I have, uh..." Trailing off, you tap your nose a few times, hoping he'll get the hint.
"Really?" He asks with bright eyes.
"Vin never let me make a habit of it, though," You tell him between laughs. "Only on special occasions."
Sighing, Steve looks down at the sushi platter. "Man, Old Vinnie must've been the coolest uncle."
"He was!" You confirm, your heart warming before you frown. "Did you ever meet him?"
He takes a sip of sake before meeting your eyes. "Nah, not properly. I've been in the same room as him, though," He tells you proudly. "Must've been over a decade ago. I was probably around fifteen. My dad took me to a meeting in some bar in Detroit; something to do with the distribution of, uh..." He trails off before tapping his nose and shooting you a wink. "The good stuff."
"Ah," You say, nodding.
"Vinnie was striking up a deal with my dad," Steve goes on to say. "I remember being awe-struck by him. At the end of it, a woman started singing. My dad and the others left, but I stuck behind to listen. She was beautiful; couldn't take my eyes off her. Vinnie goes up to her and requests a song, and it's my favorite. I remember feeling like the stars had aligned, or some sappy shit like that. You ever feel like that? Like it's too perfect to just be a coincidence?"
With your heart thudding, you swallow thickly. "What the was song?"
Steve smiles at you. "Cowboy, Take Me Away."
You bite your lip, blinking hard. "That- uh, that was my mom. She sang at Vinnie's bar."
His face drops as he's taken aback. "Really?"
Nodding, you clench your hand into a fist as you desperately try not to cry. "She always wanted to be a singer, but life got in the way. When they found the tumor in her brain... they told us she didn't have long. So, Vinnie built a stage in his bar and for that last year of her life, Mom was a singer."
Utterly shocked into silence, Steve reaches out to place his hand on yours, gently stroking it.
"Nobody else ever sang in that bar, before or after her," You inform him with a small smile. "You're lucky you got to watch her perform. Not many people have the privilege to say that."
"I am lucky," He agrees, his pretty eyes growing glossy. "I'm so sorry, fif."
"It's okay," You whisper, shaking your head and sitting up. "Come, sit next to me?"
Happily, he gets up to sit on your side of the booth, immediately wrapping his arm around you. You rest your head on his chest, allowing his rhythmic heartbeat to soothe you.
"Do you remember anything else about her?" You ask him softly.
He smiles and kisses the top of your head. "She was wearing a blue dress. It went all the way to the floor, and had little embroidered sunflowers all over it."
Gasping, you grab onto his hand. "I remember that dress."
"Yeah, that dress," He reminisces warmly. "Her eyes were pretty, and I remember her pink lipstick. I figured she must've been famous, or somethin', the way she looked so confident on that stage."
"I can't believe you had a crush on my mom," You tease him lowly, lightly poking his stomach.
"I did not have a crush on her," He adamantly defends himself. "I was just casually admiring her talent, that's all. And I fuckin' loved that song."
Laughing, you play with the zip of his jacket. "I might've even been in the bar that day. Isn't that so weird to think about?"
"That is weird," He agrees with a mumble. "To think, we could've met over ten years ago."
"We could've walked past each other. Maybe we did," You wonder. "Or maybe you sat in my regular seat without even knowing it. Maybe we drank from the same glass."
"The stars aligned," Steve utters, stroking your hair.
"Perfect coincidence," You add lowly. After a few blissful moments of silence pass, you look up at him. "Do you believe in that stuff? Fate, destiny?"
He thinks on it for a little while, sitting back while taking a long sip from his cup. "Honestly, I don't know. But I like to think that whatever's meant to be, will be."
"Really?" You ask, turning your body to him. "That's a sweet way of looking at it."
Smirking, he shrugs. "What can I say, baby? I'm a sweetheart."
"Idiot," You huff, laughing softly before looking over at the table. "Are you gonna eat some more?"
Letting out a breath, Steve pats his stomach. "I'm full as fuck, baby, go ahead."
"I'm full, too," You say, before smiling at a waiter to get him to come over. Thankfully, it works. "Could we get the bill, please?"
"Of course, ma'am," The waiter replies politely before rushing away again.
When you see Steve reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet, you grip his forearm tightly. "Don't," You order him sternly. "Lunch is on me."
Immediately, he snorts. "That's nice of you, baby, but honestly, don't worry about it-"
"Rogers, don't you dare take out your wallet," You warn him through gritted teeth. "I told you I was taking you out for lunch."
"Absolutely not," He argues, sitting up. "I told you that you wouldn't have to worry-"
"I'm not worrying; I'm treating you to lunch, like I said I would," You cut him off firmly, tightening your grip on his arm. "Besides, it's not like this was a date. It was just a nice meal."
He raises a brow at that. "You can't just call this not a date, fif," He states. "You can't just make up whatever rules you want."
"I'm not making up anything," You say with a frown. "The next time you take me on a date, you have my full permission to pay. This is on me."
"Fif-"
"Please, do not test me today, Rogers," You say coldly, glaring at him.
Realizing that you're being deadly serious, he pulls back. "Alright, fifty-three. Whatever you want," He gives in, even though it almost kills him as he watches you scan your credit card.
"See how easy that was?" You ask, before softening when you see the tense look on his face. Sighing, you cup his cheek gently, giving him a smile. "Thank you, Steve. I appreciate that that was difficult for you. Thank you for respecting my wishes, and me."
"Always," He replies. "Just don't ever make me do that again, you little shit."
Laughing, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. "You'll get used to it, sweetheart."
Hoping you don't notice the way his face heats up at the nickname, he clears his throat. "You gotta go back to work soon?" He asks you. "Or have you got some time to come over to my place?"
Usually, you'd be disgusted at the invitation back to his house - but you know that Steve knows better by now than to have vulgar intentions behind his words.
"Nah, I'm not going back yet," You tell him, even though your lunch break ended ten minutes ago. "Fuck him. He pissed me off today so he can deal with me bunking off for a little while."
Frowning, Steve takes your hand in his. "What did he do?"
Shaking your head, you pat his knee. "Doesn't matter."
"Did he upset you?" He questions, already irritated.
"Oh, please; Walker wishes he mattered enough to me to upset me," You say with a scoff. "No, he was just... being unprofessional."
Your vague wording doesn't help pacify Steve at all, whose mind is currently racing with bad thoughts. Clenching his jaw, he lowers his voice. "Did he touch you?"
"God, Steve!"
"Did he?" He asks you gravely.
"You think he'd still be alive?" You ask him incredulously. "After touching a fuckin' Drifter?"
He lets out a breath, slight relief filling him.
"You don't have to worry about your girl, Steve," You assure him. "I can take care of myself just fine."
Slowly, a smirk pulls at his lips. "My girl, huh?"
You roll your eyes and let go of his hand. "Slip of the tongue," You mutter, turning away from him.
He rests his chin on your shoulder, bringing his lips to your ear. "How about you slip your tongue... in my mouth?"
Snorting, you push his shoulder. "Too much sake for you, big boy; getting ahead of yourself, there."
"I'm sober, actually, and I'm not ahead of nothin'," Steve claims boldly, placing his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. "Just wanna kiss."
"Well, tough luck, honey," You say, meeting his eyes. "I don't kiss on the second date."
Confusion swims in his eyes before they suddenly widen. "So, this was a date! I knew it! You lied to me."
"It only just became one," You declare. "It wasn't a date before."
"What the fuck changed?" He asks with a frown. "And why do you kiss on the first date and not the second? Sweet Jesus, you're gonna kill me."
Patting his shoulder, you grin. "Come on, cowboy. Take me away. Let's get out of here."
"Don't," He warns, pointing at you. "You know what that song does to me, fif."
"Can we just- come on, Steve, take me back to yours, already," You implore, standing up.
"So she don't kiss on the first date, but she'll happily come home with me," He mutters to himself as he, too, stands up.
"Shut the fuck up, Rog, you know damn well ain't nothing happening at your place," You tell him with narrow eyes while he places a hand on your lower back and leads you out of the restaurant. "I'm just intrigued to see what it is you've got for me."
He chuckles at that, taking you over to his bike. "Come on, fiffy," He says softly. "Let's get the fuck home."
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You haven't been in Steve's home since the night he beat Ben up for you, and it looks very different during the day. It's a lot cleaner when there isn't a party being thrown, and you're pleasantly surprised.
"Nice place," You comment with a mutter, looking around the hallway while he shuts the front door.
"Thanks, fif," He replies, patting your lower back before taking your hand in his. "Come upstairs; that's where your surprise is."
Raising a brow, you plant your feet firmly on the ground. "You're walking on thin ice, Rog," You warn him.
Immediately, he laughs. "I'm not taking you to my bedroom, fifty-three, I swear," He promises, holding his free hand up and bringing your hand to his chest. "Biker's honor, babe."
With an eye-roll, you shrug. "Fine. But if you take off a single piece of clothing-"
"I am staying fully clothed-"
"And if you call me babe again," You finish coldly. "It won't be pretty, Rogers."
"Alright, alright," He says, pulling you to the stairs. "So dramatic."
"Heard that," You grumble, trudging up the stairs behind him.
Once you're upstairs, he takes you through the first door on the left. It's filled with memorabilia, most of it belonging to his gang. Worn and torn jackets with the Howling Commandos logo sewn on the back, old guns and daggers hung up on the walls, an out-of-use bike leaning against the wall, and a plethora of other tokens and trophies.
"Nice," You whisper, looking around with wide eyes. "This is incredible. How old is some of this shit?"
Picking up a gun from the wall, he smirks. "1902."
"Really?" You ask, gently taking it from him with awe. "Holy fuck." Walking further into the room, you spot a table on which there are photographs, old and new. There are a few of Steve with his friends, some you recognize and some you don't. When you see a photo of him looking cozy with a pretty brunette, you raise a brow. "Who's she?"
He comes over and glances down at it. "That's Peggy," He tells you . "My ex-wife."
Your face drops as you turn to him. "Seriously?"
Immediately, Steve snorts and shakes his head. "Nah, I'm kidding. She's an old friend; lived here for a little while before moving back to England."
"Just a friend?" You press curiously.
"Just a friend," He confirms, smirking at you. "Nothin' ever happened between us."
"Nothing?" You repeat, in slight disbelief when you see how close they're standing in the photograph.
"Absolutely nothing," Steve says plainly, before resting his hands on his hips as a thoughtful look overtakes his face. "Well, there might've been a kiss one night..."
"She came all this way, befriended you, and only ever shared a single kiss with you?" You ask him incredulously.
"Why?" He questions with a wink. "You're in disbelief, huh? Can't fathom how a woman could possibly resist me?"
Rolling your eyes, you nod. "Somethin' like that."
"Well, all you've given me is a kiss," He says pointedly.
"Well, I'm not planning on moving to England anytime soon," You shoot back.
"Good," He utters lowly, moving closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. "'Cuz I'd miss you an awful lot, fif."
Tracing the tattoos on his forearm, you look up at him. "As much as you miss Peggy?"
His lips pull up and he leans down towards you, whispering, "So much more, baby."
Dangerously close to doing something stupid like falling for his bullshit, you pull back and clear your throat. "What was it you brought me up here for, anyway, besides ancient guns and British broads?"
His eyes light up with recollection. Letting go of your waist, he walks over to a shelf. "That night by the lake, when you told me who your uncle was, it got me thinking," He begins, shuffling around in a box. "I remembered that time I saw him at his bar - when I watched your ma sing - and I saw he was carving something outta wood."
A soft smile grows on your lips. "Yeah, Vin whittled a lot."
"I just thought it looked cool, so when I stayed behind to listen to your mom..." A tinge of nervousness dances in his voice as he turns to you sheepishly. "I stole his dagger."
Your jaw drops and your eyes widen. "You did what?"
His cheeks redden as he shows it to you, and there it is. Vinnie's old dagger in all its glory, with his initials carved on the handle and all. You quickly rush over and take it from him, bewildered by the rush of nostalgia that hits you like a wave.
"Holy shit," You whisper, before looking up at him with narrow eyes. "I oughta break your hands for stealing from him."
He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I figured it would mean a lot more to you."
Smiling, you pat his shoulder. "Thank you, Rogers. I really appreciate this. I didn't bring much of Detroit with me here, so it feels good to have something... something of his."
Pulling you closer, Steve places a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.
"Fuck's sake, Rog," You grumble against his chest.
"What's wrong, fif?" He asks with slight concern.
Sighing, you lift your head up to look at him. "You're making it really hard for me to stop myself from kissing you."
A smile breaks out on his lips. "So, don't stop yourself."
"I... I can't," You whisper, wincing.
"Why not?" He asks with a mumble.
"'Cuz... then we've kissed twice," You explain. "And that's a whole lot more than just once."
A spark blooms in his eyes, and for a second you're filled with dread as you expect him to say something utterly horrific that'll turn you off again. "There's nothing wrong with more, fif," He tells you gently, resting his hands on your waist. "Whenever you're ready, you can give me as much as you want, and all I can do is promise I'll never do anything to make you regret it."
Fuck. He makes playing hard-to-get impossible.
"You're beautiful," He adds like an afterthought as one of his hands come up to cup your face.
Blinking, you let out a breathy laugh. "You mean that, or do you just want a kiss?"
"The two aren't mutually exclusive," Steve mutters, staring at your mouth. "I mean it. And I really wanna kiss you."
With no strength left to reject him, you close your eyes. "Fuck it." With that, you lean up and kiss him, and you're so glad that you do. It's somehow more electric than the first kiss you shared under the moonlight.
His hand lowers to your throat, on which he keeps a firm but gentle grip. Your hands move up to run through his soft hair, pulling and playing with his locks. Your tongues collide and dance with familiarity and raw connection, every inch of your skin lighting up with excitement.
After a few moments, you pull back, your eyes flickering up to his. You take in a few deep breaths, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hand. His eyes search yours for a hint of regret or fear, but they find none.
"I should... probably get back to work," You manage to say lowly once you've caught your breath.
"Do you have to?" Steve asks you in a hushed tone.
Suppressing a laugh, you nod. "Walker will kill me if I don't."
"Not if I get to him first," He retorts gruffly.
Rolling your eyes at his machismo, you hold the dagger up to his chest, making sure not to press it too hard. "Why don't you just relax and keep on looking pretty, huh?"
Light irritation flashes across his eyes before he slowly wraps his hand around your neck. In retaliation, you move the dagger up to his neck, narrowing your glare.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Rogers?" You ask him gravely.
Smirking, he takes a step forward, forcing your back to hit the wall. Steve then leans closer, unbothered by the blade against his throat. "Little girls like you shouldn't try to act so big and mean," He mumbles, gradually tightening his grip. "Though I have to say, it's so much fun watching you try."
Rendered speechless, you stare up at him, your mind going blank.
"Mmm, all quiet and shy for me now?" He teases you lowly, pressing his body against yours. You can feel his dick hardening against your stomach, making your thighs squeeze together. "Wanna be a good girl for daddy?"
All you can muster is a whimper in response. Damn it, woman. Get your shit together.
"Aw, baby," Steve coos, his eyes lighting up. "You can speak. You have my permission."
You can't decide if you want to punch him or kiss him - but when he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your neck, all you can think of is letting him do and say whatever the fuck he wants to you.
"You don't have to be scared, baby," He whispers against your ear while stroking your jaw with a feather-light touch. "Daddy's got you. You can say whatever you want."
You part your lips and let out a soft moan when he grinds his boner into your crotch, making you gasp.
"That's it, baby, talk to me," He coaxes you softly, kissing your neck. "Tell daddy what you want."
Taking in a deep breath, you drop the dagger and cling onto his shirt. "Daddy."
Steve bites his lip as the name finally escapes your mouth, pushing his dick harder against you. "That's it, baby. Keep going."
"Kiss me," You implore weakly, desperate for him.
Chuckling, he pulls away from your neck before resting his forehead against yours. "You want a kiss, little baby?"
"Please," You cry, bucking your hips up and gasping when you feel his cock push back.
"Such a sweet girl," He mumbles before finally leaning in and kissing you. It's soft and sweet, but also wet and sinful. You feel taken over by your arousal, in a cloud of pleasure as he sucks on your tongue and squeezes your ass in his big hand.
Steve continues grinding against you, even going so far as to lift up your legs so he can spread them apart and slot himself between them. His groans pour into your mouth as your back hits the wall, the pain overshadowed by your pleasure.
"Fuck," He growls between sloppy kisses while your pussy throbs incessantly. "That feel good?"
"So good," You whine, digging your nails into his shoulders.
"Tell me who's making you feel good, baby," Steve orders you. "Say it."
"Daddy," You cry. "Daddy's making me feel so good."
"That's fuckin' right," He grunts, slowing down. "Good girl."
With that, he crashes his lips back onto yours, gradually ceasing his movements against your hips which makes you mewl feebly. He puts your legs back on the ground, placing his hands on your waist before pulling away from the kiss.
Lowering his voice to a whisper, he gives you a sordid smile. "You should get back to work, fif."
Your face drops. Along with your stomach. And your mood.
"Huh?" You ask incredulously. Is he being serious right now?
All he does is smile innocently, letting go of your body and taking a step back.
"Oh," You scoff, baffled. "You really wanna be a tease right now?"
"I'm not being a tease," He claims though the smirk on his lips says otherwise. "I'm just conscious of your job."
How fucking dare he?
"Oh, Rogers," You say once you've regained some composure, bending down to pick up the dagger before pointing it at him. "You have no idea what you've done. What you've started."
He raises a brow in intrigue, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Is that right, fifty-three?"
"You're gonna regret doing that," You warn him, slowly walking back over to the door. "Very much." With that, you exit the room, leaving him alone to reel.
"Fuck me," He whispers, looking down at his boner. "Sorry, big guy. Looks like she's only gonna make this even harder." Glancing back up at where you once stood, he can't help but break out into a wide smile. "But damn, if we don't love the chase."
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hehe. sorry if steve's small aside to his penis gave you p*m and t*mmy flashbacks
part four >>
side blog for update notifications: @kinanabinksupdates
if you enjoy my work, please buy me a kofi! <3
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greyala · 4 months ago
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fezco and lexi as romantic trope || euphoria
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bllck-writings · 2 months ago
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How do you think Zhongli would deal with showing his s/o his dragon form and instead of being fearful or treating him like this godly being, they tell him he is lovely and gently brush his scales if he allows?
Exuvia Revealed
Zhongli x Reader
Requests: OPEN and gladly taken <3
Contains spoilers of Zhongli’s real identity(obviously), but doesn’t follow the lore too much…(the exuvia never ‘died’ for this)
my apologies if this is crappy as well ^^; i have been…stressed lately due to many things, but i hope this does suffice!
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It’s only after a full decade long time that Zhongli starts to consider showing you his true self. Not just anybody may get to see the Allfather of Archon, the Exuvia, just because they want to. Barely any of the Yaksha have seen him. Xiao reports the beastly appearance with little detail due to its rapid disappearance, its fall.
Zhongli himself sometimes forgets that he is, indeed, not human and instead the Prime Archon, a once mythical creature that is capable of absolute ruin. This leads him to forgetting to hide his identity as said ruler, and it slips in his words while he talks to you about his past. By hearing his sudden reveal, you stand back, aghast.
“Hm? Is something wrong?…Oh.” He waits for a long moment to recite over his supposed-to-be-kept secret. You have been his s/o for quite some time; you allowed him to understand what it’s like to love something and to be able to hold it so dearly, so why should he have even kept his secret in the first place? Simple. You‘ll be scared.
Zhongli’s fear of driving you off because of his real appearance scares himself to death. He‘s already lost one person that meant more than the world to him. He can’t afford to lose another.
Dragons aren’t exactly gentle either. When he has transformed into his Exuvia previously, he was barely ever able to control the seething rage within the serpent‘s body. The hunger, the lust, to demolish those who stand in its way scares him as well.
You call out to him which captures his attention and places him back to reality. It’s not long before he takes your hand and guides you to a place that he discovered while wandering to find a new tea spot.
“I understand that you may feel unnerved,” Zhongli warns. “But all I ask of you is to listen, my dearest. Listen to me, and you may turn your heel and walk away, or stay by my side to see my truth.” The look in his bronze eyes is one of longing. His need to show off himself at his true potential finally wanes on him, so he let’s go of your hand immediately after you confirm your stay.
His hands meet together in the way he poses for his artifacts, and you gawk at the waves of golden amber that flow through his now transparent skin. A blinding light burns your eyes, forcing you to block your view, but once you turn your head back to your lover, all you see is the Prime Archon reveal his true face to you.
His ombré whiskers follow the breeze of the cold wind, and his golden eyes are somber when he bows his head to you. From the long serpentine body to the long mane of his, you recognize all of the similarities between the dragon and your lover, Red Lapis.
At first, your heart pounded so hard you believed it was going to explode. How could you know what to comprehend? Did you need to be excited? Scared? Angry?
Zhongli sees through your troubled state, and he reconsiders your relationship a falsehood. The disappointment shows by his forming frown of his fanged mouth, so you are quick to tell him otherwise. You extend your hand out to his snout. It takes Zhongli by surprise; you weren’t afraid of him?
He cranes his neck lower and studied your small palm, comparing it with his large face. “Let me touch you, Rex,” you say softly, your voice fading into the wind. Given thought, Zhongli stutters but complies to your subtle request. He takes a single step forwards, angles his snout to your hand, and pushes into the warm feeling of your touch. Taking advantage of the situation, you slip your hand and wrap your arms to his heavy mane. His fur felt like clouds, and you could even hear his heartbeat thump through his scaled chest.
A moment of broken romance is collected by you both; neither of you wanting to let go while you take in the loving embrace of the newfound truth.
Rex avoids lifting his claws to hug your back, but he does manage to curl his head lower to bring it over your shoulder. His throat crumbles with a low groan before you finally hear the voice of your lover speak aloud so clearly. “I love you, (Y/n).”
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vvingless · 9 months ago
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I cannot let go. This is my great flaw, i grip every thing i love with both hands and sink my teeth in for good measure.
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redvampirerose · 5 months ago
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Art by  Nixeu
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forget-me-not-s · a month ago
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“𝘙𝘩𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥, ‘𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳.’ ‘𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩.’”
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༻❁༺
Happy 𝘌𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩! I am so excited for what this month will bring for our little family!
Our first week prompt is 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦! I hope you love this one as much as I do! I knew I wanted to add the red string of fate, as I love this concept so much!
This stunning art was once more created by the incredible talented @jessamyart ! Jess it’s always a pleasure working with you, every time you blew my mind with how you can read me and my crazy concepts to creat this gorgeous art!
So thank you Jess, I will always treasure you for helping me bring this to life. It’s always a dream working with you, and I cannot wait to see what comes next!
༻❁༺
Characters belong to @therealsarahjmaas
Quote: From Azriel exclusive bonus chapter that can be found in the Booksamillion exclusive editions of ACOSF.
Please treat people with kindness! No 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲 will be tolerated.
𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓. Likes and shares are appreciated! 💛
@elriel-month @elrielmonth
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elriell · a month ago
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Elriel Month: Week 1 (Forbidden)
“Rhys growled, "Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her."  
"You can't order me to do that."  
Art by the amazing thiaperezart , what a flipping talent she is! Watching this come to life one sketch at a time was incredible, I am so happy you accepted the commission because this is truly stunning🥹 Thank you!!
DO NOT repost pls 🦋 I hope you love it as much as I!
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vintunnavaa · 6 months ago
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forbidden love prompts
"It would be better if you stayed away from me."
"Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father?"
"This is wrong...But I don't want you to stop."
"There is no power in this world which can stop me from taking you away. All you have to do is say yes."
"Perhaps this is the end of our story."
"I wish there was a world which accepted our love."
"Why is this happening to us?"
"You have given me enough memories to last a lifetime."
"You are wrong on so many levels, but when I'm with you everything feels right."
"Will we ever meet again?" "Maybe in another life."
"Loving you has nothing to do with possessing you."
"If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?"
"I have to go."
"I am here to tell you that I cannot meet you anymore."
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Elriel Month Week 1. “Always”
NSFW
Elain dozed peacefully in Azriel’s arms as he carefully attempted to pry himself away from her soft curves. Her hair was a mess and lay tangled over half of her face, her full, pink lips were parted as her breath puffed out evenly, and her supple body was safely tucked into his chest. He didn’t want to leave the warmth of her bed, her embrace. But he was being summoned by a meddling High Lord. Mind to mind. He scowled and fortified his mental shields, shutting out Rhys for just a little longer, not yet ready to leave the little slice of heaven he found himself in this morning.
Apparently, dealing with an unruly prisoner in the Hewn City dungeons was a more pressing matter than residing between Elain’s legs for the fourth time this morning. He had snuck in from his month long mission well past midnight, finding her awake and waiting for him, and proceeded to attentively, and thoroughly, worship her. The memories of the night before made his cock twitch. The sweet taste of her, her sinful curves, her soft flesh.
His eyes raked down her gloriously naked body, pressed up against his, and smiled. She clung to him— as if even in her sleep, she couldn’t stand to be away from him. They hadn’t bothered to put any clothes back on throughout the night, they’d only be torn off moments later. 
Gods. The sight of her, the scent of her. 
He groaned longingly, pawing at her ample behind, his attempts at trying not to rouse her from sleep flung out the window along with his sanity, apparently.
Elain stirred in his arms and inhaled a deep breath as her eyes fluttered open and focused on Azriel’s face above her. His hazel eyes churned with heat. His hand was still kneading her ass. She smiled softly.
“Good morning.”
He returned her smile, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of her pert nose and shuffling himself free from their tangle of limbs. He hitched himself up on an elbow to gaze down at her, his other hand resting on the curve of her waist.
“You don’t have to go, do you?” her voice was small, still croaky from sleep.
“Soon.” He responded. The light in her eyes stuttered.
“You only just came back.” She didn’t want to sound like a petulant child, but she missed him. Whenever he wasn’t there, she missed him.
“I’m not going far, my love. Rhys just needs me to deal with something in the Court of Nightmares. I’ll be back in the evening.”
“You mean you have to deal with someone,” she corrected, her eyes full of worry for him. Always for him.
He nodded his head in ascent, just once, and reached out a scarred knuckle, trailing it down her smooth cheek. “You needn’t worry about me, Elain. I’ve been doing this for centuries.”
“I will always worry. You’re mi—” she stopped herself from saying that last word.
She would always worry for him, worry about the effect his work had on his well-being. She was well aware he had been the Night Court Spymaster for centuries, longer than Rhys had been High Lord even. But she was also aware that he did not find joy in torturing, did not relish in the game of defiance and mental gambit. If she could spare him from this encumbrance, she would. In a heartbeat…
She nuzzled back into his embrace, hiding her face from his gaze. Casting her eyes down she whispered into his chest, as if uttering the words directly into his heart, “I just... I wish we were both somebody else.”
His brow furrowed slightly in confusion. He didn’t quite follow, but he remained silent and let her finish her thought. He let his thumb trace soothing circles across the smooth skin of her waist.
“Only so… so we wouldn’t be somebody else’s…” she finished shyly, as if weary he might mock or chastise her for sharing her inner most thoughts. She knew he never would, but the feelings of doubt cruelly engrained from years of neglect and mistreatment by her mother had done their job well.
Understanding bloomed across his face. He knew what she was saying; they were always being pulled apart, their actions monitored by those who laid claim to their autonomy. By his High Lord. By her mate.
So, he shared her sentiment. He really did. And he didn’t want to claim her aloud, didn’t want to come off as a typical territorial fae male but, in his heart, she was his. Just as he was hers. His whole heart belonged to her. No other option made sense. And he hated that they had to sneak around. That they had to hide. That their love, although pure - a thing of secret, lovely beauty - remained ultimately forbidden.
“Elain,” he tugged her chin up with deft fingers so she could peer at him, so she could see the sincerity he hoped to convey in his expression. “I am no one else’s, but yours. I’m yours.”
She swallowed thickly, her delicate throat bobbing with the motion. “I want to call you mine. So that everyone knows. And I only want to be yours.”
“We will have that time; I promise you this Elain. But until certain… issues are dealt with, we must remain discreet. More than anything for your safety, as well as the tenuous political alliances of Prythian’s Courts and its’ High Lords.”
He rattled off the last line almost absentmindedly, his voice flat and emotionless. The words tasted like ash in his mouth, regurgitated from his lips mindlessly as he had listened to Rhys spout the same argument to him time and time again— whenever he challenged his High Lord on the matter, which was often.
But her safety was his number one priority. He would never forgive himself if Beron saw fit to lay claim on her in his son’s honour. If he believed it was within his rights to drag her to the Autumn Court and crown her a bride within the amber territory. A growl threatened to rip from his throat at the mere thought.
Her brown eyes bore into his as he spoke those monotonous words. Like she was peering through a window directly into his soul, she understood him. She always had. She recognised his weakness; her safety. Even if it sacrificed her happiness, if only for a little while, Azriel would always ensure her safety. He had gone on suicide missions for her safety, and she didn't doubt he would do so again without hesitation.
Her face softened, letting the thought go in favour of enjoying Azriel’s company for a little while longer. She settled back into the mattress before she whispered, “Lay with me, for a little while?”
He happily obliged. He could never deny her.
Azriel rolled onto his front, his chest half resting on top of hers as she lay on her back. She nestled her head back onto her pillow, wild hair sprawled across the white sheets.
“Always,” he murmured, dipping his head down and tracing his lips, so feather light, across her elegant collar bones. He heard her suck in a soft breath, and that’s all it took for his earlier heat to rise to the surface again, the need thrumming through his veins like rushing waters through rocky mountain rapids.
“Azriel.” His name was a hushed prayer. A reverent plea, uttered in the buttery soft light of the early autumn morning peeking through the thick curtains of her bedroom.
“I’m here, love. I’ll always be here.” He murmured the words into her skin as his hands fluttered over her chest, her waist, her hips.
She split her thighs, making room for him between them and he rolled on top of her. Pressing her naked body into the plush mattress beneath them, his tongue traced a lazy path across her burning skin.
Her hands dove into his raven hair, the strands already standing in every direction from their previous tumbles, and she pulled his face toward hers. Her doe eyes glanced back and forth between his before she crashed her soft lips upon his in a desperate yet slow kiss, her tongue lapping against his languidly, her need for him apparent. A breathy moan sounded as Azriel gave her everything back.
Elain rolled her hips below him, the dripping folds of her sex running along the proud length of his shaft, alerting him to just how desperate she is for him. And he knows her need. Acutely feels this carnal hunger mirrored within himself. For this morning, after so long apart, their moments of intimacy were not merely chasing pleasure, but an inherent desire to be joined.
To experience the other so thoroughly, to share body and mind and soul so completely in a futile attempt to chase away the incessant ache when they are apart. To make their forbidden love somewhat bearable when they are forced to pretend they are anything but two halves of a whole; already so intrinsically, irrevocably, intertwined.
He groaned, angling his body to line the swollen, leaking tip of his cock with her entrance. He trembles with restraint above her, the need to be inside of her already clawing at his control despite being buried within her several times since his return mere hours ago.
He draws his hands up the length of her sides, one finding purchase in her thick locks, the other coming up to interlace her fingers with his, pinning her hand to the mattress besides her head.
“Azriel,” she whimpers again, and he takes that as his cue to plunge himself inside her. Her warm heat welcomes him, enveloping him deliciously.
He marvels.
Every time he sheaths himself within her he cannot help but be in complete awe of this female. He finds no resistance as he pushes deeper and deeper, burying himself to the hilt. They fit so perfectly against one another, as if they were carved from a single piece of marble.
Her soft sighs fan across his face, her fingers clenching his, as he rolls his hips slowly, languidly, into hers. As if he has all the time in the world to love her. Each exquisite stroke of his cock reaches deep within her but… he finds it’s still not enough, its never enough. He never feels close enough to her, and she claws at his back and bicep with her free hand, seemingly just as desperate to have him closer too.
He settles his weight on top of her and continues his slow, decadent fucking, her legs wrapping around him to find purchase around his trim waist. She claims his lips once more, her tongue greedily sweeping into his mouth, both their pleasure building.
She breaks the kiss, muttering something against his lips over and over before he realises she’s whispering I’m yours, only yours, always yours. It shatters his heart and remoulds it again, Elain breaking and reshaping it herself so it will only ever fit with hers. Like a lock that has never been opened, its long-forgotten key forged by the gentle flower grower, the bold king slayer. Only she will ever wield it.
He withdraws his fist from her hair and clasps her palm in his, both her hands now restrained gently above her head, smooth fingers intertwined with scarred ones. They’re both glistening with sweat, his chest sliding across hers, heavily pinned beneath him, as he continues thrusting, rolling into her dripping sex. Azriel tucks his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her heavenly scent as he murmurs to her, you’re mine Elain, only mine, always mine.
She cries out just once, a single sob of pleasure and surrender at his words, before her legs begin to quake around him, her hands gripping his like a vice above their heads. Her slickened walls clench around his thick cock and he follows her climax with his own moments later, tumbling over the edge, enveloping himself deep inside her. Azriel wills every part of him to melt over her entirely, shrouding her, veiling her completely within this perfect moment that’s just for them. Attempting to convey his desperate yearning for her, trying to convince her he’ll never leave, never let her go, no matter how much space is physically between them. No matter who attempts to stand between them.
Prying his face from the crook of her neck with a trail of feather-light kisses to her throat, he gazes down at her blissed-out expression. He smiles softly, a smile only ever granted to Elain. His Elain.
“My everything, you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
She pushes his shaggy hair out of his eyes, unruly inky strands stuck to his temples with sweat. “You’re all I need, Azriel. You’re all I’ve ever needed.”
He kisses her deeply, lazily, once more. Before he has to go.
He untangles their limbs from one another, leaving her sprawled out in their bed like a glowing goddess, turning to his pile of clothing and begins to methodically dress for his role of Spymaster of the Night Court.
Strapping his weapons to his armour and Truth Teller to his thigh, he turns back once more to stare at her. Elain lounges on her stomach now, her chin resting in a palm, watching him dress with sultry, half-lidded eyes.
She smiles, her devastatingly beautiful face rendering him breathless. “Come back to me?”
She asks the question— knowing the answer— but asks it all the same.
He stoops down, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair, lips lingering just a little longer. His hand fingering the soft tresses of her golden brown curls.
“Always,” he promises.
Every single time he needs to leave, he utters the same promise he never intends to break. Always.
*******
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tagging: @elriel-month @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters​ @achelois-daughter​ @lesolehabitantdelalune​ @thisloveseternal​ @strangecreationchaos​ @fuckmelifesucks​ @annie-laur​ @gopeachllama​ @eloeloeheheh​
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superduperkas · 11 days ago
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Margo telling Juliette that Cal and her won't work and she'll get over it is the pot calling the kettle black if ever seen it
Ma'am, a big part of your back story and ultimately why she can even have the disagreement with Juliette in the first place is because of forbidden love or choosing someone seen as beneath her
Left a whole hipster vampire fiance at the alter for Sebastián, a (sickly) human, for love
Juliette is better than me because I would've, without hesitation, pointed out the direct correlations between the situations
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theteeniestpinecone · a month ago
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Elriel Month Week One: Forbidden Love 🌙🌸🦇
“Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his hand lay flat against her neck.”
“Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.”
Sorry it’s been so long! Life has been hectic, but I had to sketch one out for Elriel month!! I am so soft for them 🥺
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Bernardino Mei (1612/1615-1676) "Ghismunda" (1650-1659) Oil on canvas Baroque
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itsmefromthatday · a year ago
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I have a little surprise for you merthur shippers...
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redvampirerose · 5 months ago
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Art by  AbigailLarson
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hotsforharlow · a month ago
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Instagram Post
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Liked by flapjackharlow, jack’snews and 8,432 others.
jh_updates Jack & Y/N Wyatt seen in NY at a cafe. Something going on here....?
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flapjackharlow No, I think they are just good friends. They’ve known each other forever!
harlow’swhore Oh, I don’t know..have you seen the YouTube videos dedicated to them together...there’s something there alright.
Y’N’sworld There’s something there alright..but with the amount that Jack flirts, I don’t think it’s serious..or just a strong friendship. 
jack’sgirl Hmm..I say watch this space.
“Okay, baby girl.”Jack hummed and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.The nickname he had for you for years was having a different effect on you recently; not that you would ever mention anything. He had the world’s actresses and models around him, what could he see in you?
“I’ll see you soon.” You looked up at him with a bright smile as the thoughts fluttered away at his attention. You didn’t realise he was thinking the same thing and how these new feelings weren’t appropriate at all.
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marvelsdc22 · a month ago
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Y/N(on the ground, dying): "Di... Did you... Ever... Did you ever... Think of me, as your friend? *coughs* So... Someone... You actually ca... Care about?"
Wanda(staring down at Y/N with tears in her eyes): "We were never friends, you're a criminal, you were a means to an end"
Y/N(choking out a laugh): "Guess... I was pretty far off the mark there huh? *choked breath* That's alright, I learned from my mistakes... Enemies it is"
*Y/N stares up at Wanda for a long moment before they choke out a few more breaths and slump back against the brick wall they were leaning on*
Wanda(tears finally slipping down her face): "I'm sorry"
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vi0letsgarden · 7 months ago
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you are the only light I’ve ever known.
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