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#dont take these answers as the only truths. if you saw a different reason in the fable than that is also what they were there for.

zarinthelwrites · 11 months

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How were the AN fables chosen for The Scorpion and the Frog?

It depends. For the first chapter, I already had that fable in mind for the start... the Oxen and the Donkey is a story that I already knew and liked. However, I had the last minute realization (based on a response from my friends who read that chapter before I ever put it up publically) that most people are not familiar. With obscure fables. So, I had the idea of rewriting them at the end-- but interestingly, in my google docs, those a/n: fables dont exist. that's because I just straight up tended to write them as I was publishing the chapter. that also lets me reinterpret those fables to better suit the chapter: I think it's actually fun to go look up the fables and then compare them to the version that I wrote down. so, for the second chapter, I was on aesop's fables wiki page, read through all the stories that had 'frog' as one of the animals, and went with the one I thought worked the best.

farmer and the viper, itachi's first pov chapter, I had that one picked out early, its another favorite fable of mine. goat and the vine: i went through a lot of different fables looking for something that suited this chapter, but in the end I really liked goat and the vine because of its nature: this is a sacrificial goat speaking to a grapevine that will also be poured on the altar. the dead speaking to the dead. i thought it was a great intro for the akatsuki, and for the fact that kaeru had now entered the "doomed" part of her life. I dont have a lot to say abt wolf and the crane, I think that's self explanatory...

Crow and the snake: i liked it bc id already given itachi a snake story earlier and crows are also his thing. like the farmer and the viper, itachi becomes the crow and the farmer, killed by the snake. in many ways its a deeply ironic fable for him, because while hes the one in the fable, the one who needs to learn the fable is his symbolized killer-- sasuke, the snake. lol

dog and the sheep. akatsuki chapters get akatsuki titles

hawk and the nightengale: you dont want to know what its like constantly googling stuff like "what birds eat frogs" "what predators preffer to eat frogs" "frog predators". anyway, its sasuke's first chance to be a bird! its ambiguous, naturally, which one he is. rivers and the sea: took me a long time to settle on this one. I think its a little cruel to say that all of itachi's fables are "what can you expect?" deals because itachi's inherent character demands he seek hope from a cruel universe. what did he expect indeed. deer without a heart: i liked the image of a zombie deer i will be real. but i also liked the idea of returning to the lion's cabin, a very literal representation of kaeru's actions compared with their metaphorical weight

scorpion and the frog: i was so happy to get to the name drop chapter. yes i outlined this in advance so i did always know what fight would be getting this name. black-bird and the birdcatcher: ... "friend, if this is what you offer your guests, no gods will answer" "but birds will." and the birds did come, did they not?

#lol #my writing #dont take these answers as the only truths. if you saw a different reason in the fable than that is also what they were there for.

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wisdominfumbling · 1 month

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Taking accountability over actions.

My parents have always told me life is all about making desitions and hopefully making the right ones.. Now my dad specifically tells me that more importantly life is about making the wrong ones and learning from that. Learning from the pain, the suffering, the shame, the loneliness, the anxiety and so much more. At frist I didn´t understand when he would say that

¿Why would my own father want me experiencing those feelings?

Later on in life I have found the answer, cause he loves me and he wants me to be happy and life a full life, be a complete woman and in order for me to be that I have to have awful days and weeks, hopefully not months and years but you never know. Now I thought I knew what heartache felt like, a breakup, love related feelings but the truth is I have never been in love, never felt true relationship like love, out of my mind Romeo and Juliet love. I know guys have I´ve been with have felt that for me but I have never been able to reciprocate. ¿Why? I have a short (but still important) list of reasons:

Im immature, somehow I still believe in the perfect guy. tall, handsome (not pretty), smart, loyal, funny, pro family, respectful, athelic, good in bed, manly. And I blame my dad for that, he has always shown me that I deserve the world and the best and that everyone is replaceable and when someone doesn´t fit into one of those requirements I should leave. now the problem is that it really shouldn´t be like that. Im not telling you to settle for something lower but I am saying that some things can be fixed and you should focus on the core of the person. most important is that they have to be loyal, tall, pro family, have a job and respectful. the rest can be altered, I can style him better, cut his hair different, send him to the gym, show him tricks in bed. not so important things but the core should be top requirements for a boyfriend.

I only know how to obsess with guys, dont know how to love them.

Im scared of commitment, Im terrified of telling them everything and then im this vulnerable person and they´ll maybe do the same to me.

Im insecure, physically. im always gonna be comparing to other women specially the cute, thin, blonde ones. I always find them more feminine, prettier.

If there are more reasons.. i forgot them.

The point is, due to those reasons im not able to be in a relationship only situationships work until they start getting serious and i dip or do something to fuck everything up. And thats exactly what i did, if i can give you good and simple advice.. DO NOT DATE YOUR FRIENDS FRIENDS.. EVER. yes it can go really well but it also can go REALLY bad. and you dont want to go there, im telling you.

I was going out with my boy bestfriend´s friend, all good, he had more interest in me than i had in him, he asked me out we went out a couple times on dates, i stayed over at his house, all good (kinda, im not gonna get into the werid stuff that pulled me away) but even after i posted him on my story and people saw us out and about, i still got some dms of guys i used to talk to (and fuck) wanting to see me and stuff. This specific guy im kinda obsessing with dmed me and we talked. my situationship saw and yeah. so basically im a cheater, i fucked up and its been like a month and a half and i still cant get over it. i have so much guilt evenm tho my friends forgave me ? and told me i had nothing to worry about i still worry. i feel bad. i saw this great guy that cared for me, crying in his bed, asking me again and again why did i do it and i just didnt have a good honest answer to give him cause honestly i would end up causing more damage.

A month and a half and already fucked another person, I have been on a couple dates but i just cant seem to replace him yet. which is funny cause when we were a thing it seemed pretty easy to replace him. im also lazy cause if i wanted to be with the guy im obsessing with i could just take the metro and be there in a hour. maybe i feel guilty about seeing him too. fuck i feel guilty about seeing my friends too. i have only told three friends, my bestie that i called him the same day it happened and he helped me out a little but hes a guy so he didnt get it as much, my other guy friend and he was sweeter and told me to not worry and that everyone fucks up at a certain time but as long as i knew that it was wrong it was okay and that he had done much worse, and my other friend shes a girl so she understood better and was very sweet about it, i think they´re being sweet with me is because im the youngest and they can see the shame and the regret in my face everytime they see me.

I know that i shouldve been more straightforward and direct and just told him that i could not give him a relationship at the moment but i just didnt wanna lose on any side. i wanted to have him while having another other and not having any kind of limitation or whatever. I understand thats not how life works but sometimes i fool myself into believing that the universe loves me so mcuh that i get this "im gonna look the other way" treatment. i hope i can feel better now and start moving on with my life, i cannot be stuck on this for any longer. i know he is not stuck and i also know that we will see each other eventually and i want him to see me normal, even if i was the one that fucked up i dont want him to see me that affected.

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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sneezyminniejo · 2 years

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Hello

i dont know if this is something you would be willing to do and its ok if not but sick niki (cold/ fever) and he gets found by Seventeen members or txt members, like in the company building

thank you :)

Here it is, hope you enjoy

Side Effects of a Fever

Riki was tired. Which both made sense and didn’t make any sense at the same time. The group has had a pretty packed schedule seeing as they were in the middle of promoting their most recent comeback, so Riki being tired made perfect sense. However, he had also been getting a full night’s rest the past couple of days, unlike his hungs, so him being tired when he’s the only one who’s been sleeping a full eight hours doesn’t fully check out.

As the final alarm on his phone went off, Riki sluggishly got out of bed and made his way to the common area where breakfast should be ready. He was too tired to get dressed before eating. Besides, chances of him getting put in different clothes at the venue was highly likely, so it didn’t really matter anyway. Riki sat down at the table and began eating the food that was placed in front of him.

“You feeling okay Riki?” Riki startled a little bit at the question. He looked towards Heeseung before answering “I feel fine, hyung. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been scooping air into your mouth for the past three minutes. Your plate is empty.” Riki glanced down to his plate and sure enough it was clean

“I guess I’m just a bit tired and my throat hurts a little.” He admitted reluctantly. He didn’t want to admit to being so tired but if he’s spacing out to the point of not realizing he finished eating, he might as well tell the truth. After a moment, Riki felt a hand rest on the back of his neck and another one being placed on his forehead. He couldn’t help but instinctively lean in to the touch.

“Can whoever’s in the bathroom bring me the thermometer please?!” Heeseung called through the dorm. The slamming of drawers and cabinets could be heard before Sunoo came out of the bathroom holding the requested device. It didn’t take more than a second for Sunoo to figure out that Heeseung wanted to take Riki’s temperature. He scanned the younger’s forehead and the reading came back as 38.3C (101F).

“Ok Riki, you’re going back to bed. There’s no way you’re going to be able to perform with a fever that’s making you this spacey. Riki nodded and went back to his room. Jungwon was in the room getting dressed and was confused when Riki crawled into his bed and closed his eyes.

Riki heard his members finish getting ready to go. Sunghoon had checked in with him before leaving asking if he needed anything. Riki felt like there was something he needed to tell his members, but couldn’t remember what it was. The brain fog from the fever clouding his thought process too much. So he just responded with a sleepy groan before drifting off to sleep fully.

“Riki, what are you doing? We have to leave in half an hour.”

“Heeseung hyung said bed.” Riki responded already half asleep. Jungwon knew that there was probably a reason that Riki was sent back to bed so he shrugged it off until he finished getting dressed. Upon finding out that Riki had a fever, Jungwon was quick to text their manager so a statement could me made making Engene aware that they’d be performing as six instead of seven for the next couple of stages.

Jihoon had been in his studio for the past two hours working on tracks for Seventeen’s next album. He started to feel hungry and looked at the time. It had been around four hours since he had last eaten, so he decided to save his progress and head back to the dorm for lunch. He was walking down the hallway towards the elevator when he saw who he was pretty sure was the maknae of Enhypen staring at one of the practice room doors. This confused him because he knew that the group was currently promoting.

Jihoon approached the younger man and as he got closer noticed that his gaze didn’t seem to be focused in any sense of the word. “Hey you’re Niki right. How’s your comeback promotions going?”

“The room isn’t there.” Riki responded in a mix of Korean and Japanese. It took a minute for Jihoon to fully process what the younger had said, and he was even more confused by the fact that the younger wasn’t making any sense. Riki then said a few more nonsensical things in a mix of Japanese and Korean before Jihoon heard a snore coming from him. Jihoon swore as he realized the younger must be sleep walking.

Jihoon had no idea where the Enhypen dorms were and hoped that they were close seeing as the group’s maknae must have walked all the way here. The producer now took notice that Riki was clearly wearing pajamas and seemed to be sweating a bit.The producer didn’t feel comfortable going back to his dorm and leave Niki here alone. He was pretty sure the younger was sleep walking and sick. His members were likely at a schedule, so he decided to take Niki with him so he could be looked after. Jihoon knew that it was supposedly not safe to wake a sleep walker, so he decided to just ask Niki to come with him and hope that he would follow.

“So Niki, some of my members have been wanting to get to know you a bit more. Why don’t you come back to the Seventeen dorm for lunch?” Riki just hummed in response, but thankfully followed Jihoon out of the building and to his car. Before he pulled out of the parking lot Jihoon texted Seungcheol to let him know that he was bringing a guest over for lunch. By the time the leader had responded Riki was fully back asleep and softly snoring in the passenger seat of the car. Jihoon took the opportunity to feel the younger’s forehead and frowned at the warmth. He quickly texted Seungcheol to get the thermometer and fever reducers out as well before he started driving to his dorm.

Jihoon parked his car and sighed. He would either need to wake up the Enhypen member or get a couple of his own members to help carry him inside. He decided to try to wake Niki first. He gently nudged the younger’s shoulder. “Hey Niki, I need you to wake up. We’re here.” Jihoon was fully prepared to call one or two of his members out to help him, but thankfully Riki stirred awake. Although it was questionable as to how awake he was.

“Hmmmn, five more minutes hyung.” Riki moaned. “Niki, it's time to wake up. We’re at the dorm and lunch is ready.” Jihoon received a grunt in response, but Riki did open his eyes and get out of the car. Jihoon led Riki into the Seventeen dorm. Almost immediately after opening the door, Jihoon was met with the very concerned looks of both Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

Jihoon ignored his hyungs’ concerned glances as he led Riki to the couch. He grabbed the thermometer that had been placed on the coffee table and immediately stuck it in the younger’s mouth. He then turned to the two older members who were now also looking a bit confused.

“I was on my way out of the building when I came across Enhypen’s maknae. I’m pretty sure he was sleep walking and I think he’s sick.” At that moment the thermometer beeped and Jihoon removed the device. “Definitely sick. He’s got a fever of 38.7 (101.6). I also assumed that his members are all at schedules since they’re in the middle of a comeback and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone, so I brought him here.” Jihoon poured out a dose of the fever reducer and handed it to his sick hoobae.

“Here, drink this. It’ll help you feel better.” Jihoon said as he handed the medicine cup to Riki. Riki drank the medicine, and the nasty fake cherry flavor seemed to fully wake the sick Enhypen member. Riki coughed a little bit and unintentionally spat out the medicine.

“Gross hyung, what is this?” Riki glared at the medicine cup that was still in his hand. Jihoon took the medicine cup and refilled it. “Relax Niki-ssi, it’s just some medicine to lower your fever.” He handed the cup back to Riki, who successfully drank it. Jihoo turned on the tv and sat down. He wanted to wait until the younger’s fever. was a bit lower before trying to talk to him about why he was at the company instead of his dorm. Seungcheol and Jeonghan joined him.

Over the course of the next forty five minutes, the other members came out of their own rooms. Minghao and Wonwoo both went to the kitchen to make lunch for everyone. Seungcheol made sure to let them know to make enough food for their guest. The rest of the members joined the group in the living room. They each gave a questioning glance towards Niki, but didn’t actually verbalize their question.

“Lunch is ready.” Called Minghao. All of the members got up and began moving to the kitchen to grab their food. Jihoon stopped Riki from getting up and stuck the thermometer in his mouth again. They waited a minute for it to beep and Jihoon was glad that his temp had lowered to 38 degrees (100.4C). “Ok Niki-ssi let’s go get some food.” Jihoon said as he stood up.

The group of fourteen had decided to just fill their plates and go back to the living room to continue watching the show that had been airing. The fever reducers having fully kicked in, coupled with eating lunch, allowed Riki’s brain fog to mostly leave. It still took him a solid minute before he fully realized that, one, he wasn’t in his dorm, and two, he was with Seventeen sunbaenims instead of his members.

Due in part to the realization, and in part from still having a fever, Riki abruptly stood up, accidentally spilling his food all over the floor. Just as quickly as he had stood up, Riki tried to bow, but wound up falling backwards onto the couch.

“Woah there Niki. You stood up a bit too fast there I think. Wonwoo, Chan, can you both grab some towels to clean this up?” Niki wasn’t entirely sure which member had spoken but it didn’t really matter. He was sick and now he had food all over his clothes and on the floor. “I’m so sorry sunbaenim. I didn’t mean to make a mess of your home.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get everything cleaned up. By the way, would you like some clean clothes? Maybe a shower too?” Riki distinctly recognized the member talking as Hoshi. Riki nodded to both and Hoshi left the room as well. It wasn’t long before Hoshi returned with a change of clothes and motioning for Riki to follow him to the bathroom.

“Since we’re about the same height, I just grabbed some of my pajamas. Ok?” Riki nodded his head. “Also judging by the fever medicine that was on the table, I’m assuming you’re the one that’s sick, since as far as I know no one else is. Anyway, we’ve had some incidents in the past involving fevers and bathing, so I’m going to wait right outside the bathroom just in case.” Once again, Riki nodded in response before going into the bathroom to clean himself up.

Around ten minutes later, Riki came out of the bathroom holding his dirty pajamas. Hoshi smiled while grabbing them and the duo walked back to the living room. The mess he had unintentionally made was cleaned up and there was also a fresh plate of food waiting for him. Riki sat down and accepted the new food, thanking his sunbaenims.

“Sunbaenims, out of sheer curiosity, when did my hyungs ask you to check on me?” Riki asked when he finished eating. Everyone stared at Jihoon because he was the one who had brought Riki over and he hadn’t yet explained anything. Jihoon sighed before he started speaking.

“Ok, first off you can call us hyungs. Secondly, your members never contacted any of us. I found you staring at the door to one of the practice rooms and you seemed to be asleep.” Riki visibly paled when he heard that and groaned.

“I knew I forgot something. Hyungs don’t know I’m prone to sleepwalking when I have a fever.”

“That’s not good Niki. Sleepwalking can be very dangerous, especially since you left your dorm. How far away from the company is your dorm anyway?” Seungcheol asked

“Not far, hyung. Only like three blocks. Also Niki’s just my stage name. You can call me Riki.” All the members of Seventeen seemed to deflate in relief in finding out he hadn’t walked far. Riki broke into a mini coughing fit as all the talking he just did, even though it wasn’t a whole lot, had irritated his throat. One of the members handed him a glass of water in response.

“I suggest the plan of action is that you stay here for the day and rest. One of us will contact your members telling them that you’re here, and then you can go home with them when they pick you up.” Riki wanted to protest, he really did. However, it didn’t take him long to realized that because he had left the dorm while sleeping he didn’t have his keys or his phone. There was also the fact that he was probably going to continue sleepwalking and probably shouldn’t be left alone just in case.

Riki found himself getting comfortable on the couch to settle in for the rest of the day. The members of Seventeen introduced themselves because it became very apparent that in his fevered state, Riki just couldn’t remember who was who.

Once lunch was completely cleaned up Chan approached the sick Enhypen member. “Riki, do you know any of your hyungs’ phone numbers or maybe your manager’s so we can let them know where you are?” Riki shook his head. “Never needed to know them, I just put them in my contacts.” Chan nodded in understanding then turned to the others in the room.

“Hyungs, do any of you have the phone number for any of the Enhypen members?” Seungkwan and Joshua both raised their hands. Riki wound up coughing into his fist as he told them that his group was likely still filming whatever schedule they were currently at and they should just send a text to Jay or Sunoo hyungs. Seungkwan and Joshua did as suggested and texted the two members.

After Enhypen was contacted, Mingyu grabbed the remote and changed the tv’s input. “Do you want to play any games, we’ve got a bunch.” Mingyu held up a bunch of multiplayer games and a few single player games for Riki to see. One of the games that Mingyu held up was Ribbit King, which instantly excited Riki as he hasn’t seen that game since he was a kid.

“Can I play Ribbit King please?” He asked while pointing towards the game. Mingyu looked confused for a moment as he looked at the game Riki was gesturing to. “Hey Dokyeom, any chance you know where either our Wii or Gamecube are?” He yelled since the member had temporarily left the room. “Check the second hall closet. It's probably in the electronics box from when we last moved.” Mingyu replied with a thanks before running off down the hallway.

Riki found himself dozing off in the few minutes that Mingyu was off searching for the semi forgotten gaming console. “Let’s hold off on the gaming until after you’ve taken another nap.” Mingyu said. Riki startled slightly, but ultimately nodded as he was feeling exhausted again. He settled down on the couch as one of the other members covered him up with a blanket. It was a matter of minutes before Riki was fast asleep. The Seventeen members decided to do some quiet activities, but decided that they weren’t going to fully leave the sick man alone, in fear that he would sleepwalk again.

The hunch that Riki would sleepwalk again was correct, as about an hour later the sick man suddenly got off the couch and walked to the kitchen. The Seventeen members watched as he opened up the fridge and pulled a bottle of salad dressing out and placed it on the floor. Riki then returned to the living room and grabbed the remote and then just stood there as he pointed it at the tv without pressing any buttons. It only lasted another minute before he sat down on the floor and fell back asleep. The others were quick to shrug the experience off and decided to just let Riki continue sleeping.

Riki woke up around forty five minutes later. He coughed a bit and was given a glass of water. “Can I play Ribbit King now?” He asked. The others nodded their heads and Mingyu set up the console. For some reason Seventeen had an empty data cartridge, so Riki was able to start the game from scratch. He wound up playing the game for a couple of hours, actually getting pretty far in the story. He had several mini coughing fits and Seungcheol gave him a cough drop at one point.

Riki was in the middle of the industrial world when Minghao and Jun announced that dinner was ready. The game was paused and he was given a plate of food from one of the members. Riki glanced at the clock and his eyes widened a little in surprise at the time. He accidentally aspirated and started coughing again. Jihoon hit his back a couple of times until he recovered.

“Sorry hyungs, but I’m pretty sure my hyungs should be done with schedules by now. Can one of you call them?” Joshua nodded and pulled out his phone to dial Jay’s number. The first time it went to voicemail. The second time Jay picked up on the third ring.

“Josh, now is not the time. Our maknae is missing. He’s sick and not here and he left his wallet and phone behind.” Joshua let the younger American rant until he was finished. “Jay, I know, but Riki’s perfectly fine. He’s in our dorm right now.”

“What do you mean he’s in your dorm? Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker.” Joshua rolled his eyes, but put his phone on speaker as well. “Let me get this straight hyung, Riki’s with you, but he doesn’t have his phone, wallet, or anything?”

“About that hyung,” Riki started. Multiple sighs of relief could be heard over the speaker. “I somehow forgot to tell you guys that I’m prone to sleepwalking when I have a fever.” Riki turned to the side and coughed into his fist.

“What does sleepwalking have to do with anything?” Jungwon asked.

“I was working on some track at the company and I found him wandering the halls as I was leaving. He was completely asleep. Meaning he left your dorm and walked to the company while asleep.” Silence fell over the phone line until Jake could be heard swearing in English.

“As soon as I realized what was happening, I brought him to our dorms and we’ve been taking care of him. He did sleepwalk one more time, but all he did was take the salad dressing out of the fridge and place it on the floor.” Jihoon continued to explain

“Thank you for looking after our maknae hyungs. Heeseung will be there in a bit to bring him home.” Jungwon said. The two groups then said their goodbyes before hanging up the phone.

A short while later Heeseung was at the dorm to collect the maknae. Vernon answered the door and let him in. They all chatted for a little bit and Vernon told Heeseung that if Riki still has a fever tomorrow, at least one of them is free to watch him to make sure he doesn’t have any dangerous sleepwalking spells. Heeseung and Riki thanked Seventeen before they left for their own dorm.

#sickfic #enhypen #seventeen

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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years

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I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

---

A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?” Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”

TAGS

Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

SFW Only Tag List: @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

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hotch-stufff · 3 years

Note

can i get angst 47 with gibbs 👁👁

Bruises

gif is not mine

Paring: Gibbs x Reader

Warnings!: mentions of abuse, angst, crying, comforting, abusive relationship, cursing, mentions of injuries from abuse

Prompt: "You flinched"

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I laid on the ground, not having enough energy to stand up. I couldn't move, and God did it hurt to breathe. Probably a bruised rib, would definitely have some bruises to add to the collection.

Hopefully nothing bad enough to send me to the hospital. The last time I did that, well it was just really bad, and Darren was pissed. So pissed that when we got home, he beat me all over again.

Now I know what you're thinking. What is a federal agent doing staying in an abusive relationship like this? Truth is, I had no idea. At first it was because I thought the beatings would eventually stop, but they didn't. And after realizing they would never stop, I tried to get out. But that only left to another hospital trip and threats. The threats were the only reason that I stayed.

Darren threatened a lot of things. He threatened to beat me so bad I couldn't move. To kill me. But the worst was that he threatened to hurt my team. He knew the whole team, he knew them really well. He worked at NCIS for God's sake, just not on Gibbs team. And that was enough for me to stick around.

Of course, it should be known that it wasn't always like this. Darren was a good guy in the beginning. He brought me flowers and took me out to nice restaurants. He made time for me, and I did the same for him. But then, he didn't get the open spot on Gibbs team. I did. And it all went downhill from there.

The bruises were getting extremely hard to hide. Turtlenecks and long pants were becoming my everyday wardrobe. Which wasnt the easiest thing to work in, but foundation was expensive, and Darren spent most of our money on alcohol or cigarettes. Whatever his weekly fix was. It was ... exhausting. The front I had put up in front of everyone was tearing me down, and people were starting to notice.

Tony and Ziva, who sat closest to me would send me a concerned glance each time I winced when moving. I blamed it on muscle pain, from working out so much.

Abby would see the amount of makeup I was wearing and would ask if I was okay. Of course she just thought I was insecure. She would always tell me that I was bueatiful and that I didn't need makeup. It warmed my heart each and every time she said it.

Palmer was concerned because he had caught one of my bruises. It was on my wrist and my sleeve had rolled up slightly. He had asked about it and I had told him the first lie that popped in my head. That I had fallen. He had taken me straight to Ducky to make sure that it was actually okay. Which is how Ducky got involved.

And then there was Gibbs. Gibbs didn't ask questions, he didn't push for answers, he didn't send me concerned glances. But I was certain he knew something. He didn't know what was actually going on, because he would beat the shit out of Darren if he knew. But he just seemed like he knew something. I knew that if I was going to go to anyone about my "issue", it would be him. Gibbs had been there for me since I had joined the team. And we both had spent plenty of late nights in the office talking. Me, avoiding going home to Darren and him not wanting to go back to his empty house.

Everyone had said that Gibbs was this hard man that never opened up and remained silent most of the time. But boy once he got talking, he never shut up. We talked about eveything. And sometimes nothing, just enjoying each others presence. And if I'm honest, I may have been developing feelings for the guy. But I could never do that, because Darren would probably kill him. And that scared me more than anything.

But life seemed okay. Atleast I was the only one getting hurt.

Of course until it all came crashing down. And it had just been a normal day.

* * *

I sat at my desk, working on and endless stack of paperwork that came with each case. We had just wrapped one up, a good ending thankfully. The team was in high spirits, talking about going out to a bar tonight. But I knew Darren wouldn't have it. I had turned down the offer, instead opting to sit and do paperwork until I had to go home.

Everyone had left for the night, leaving me alone in the bullpen. My hand was a scribbling away, when I had felt the gentle tap of a hand against my shoulder. I should have been more careful, but I had thought it was Darren. So I flinched away from him and crossed my arms in front of my face.

"Y/n?" Gibbs. It was Gibbs. That was it. Just Gibbs. I instantly pulled my arms down and straightened up.

"H-hey Gibbs. What um, what can I do for you." He just stared at me, giving me the usual Gibbs glare.

"You flinched." I grimaced. Of course I did. I didn't want him to find out like this, but I guess this is how its gonna go.

"Um- I, I. Well you see Gibbs-" he cut me off.

"Is someone hittin ya?" He paused thinking, before remembering my oh so lovely boyfriend. "That son of a bitch."

"Wait Gibbs. Its not what you think." But the damage was done. He was going through everything in his mind. My clothes, the grimaces everytime I jerked around, the excuses, the late nights avoiding going home. It all made sense to him now.

"Take off your shirt." My eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." There was no avoiding this, he wasn't letting me off easily. I took a deep breath before grabbing the bottom of my turtleneck and bringing it over my head. His breath hitched when he saw the bruises that littered my skin.

"My god y/n." He shook his head, running the rough pads of his fingers up and down my arms. "Gonna kill him." And he stood back up, turning quickly before stomping towards the elevator. I slipped my shirt back on and ran after him, but he was already gone. I hurried down to the parking garage and jumped in my car speeding off.

He was gonna kill him. Although who would kill who, I didn't know.

I broke just about every speeding law on the way to my house. When I got there, the door was kicked open and yelling was coming from inside the house.

"Gibbs!" I shouted, running as fast as I could. I walked in the door and gasped. There was glass littering the floor, and picture frames scattered across the ground. I walked further in the house and found them in my kitchen. Gibbs on top of Darren, repeatedly punching him in the face.

"Gibbs! Stop!" I ran to him, pulling him off of Darren. "Stop, he isn't worth it." I pulled Gibbs up by his arm and dragged him away. But he wasn't finished.

"Ya ever go near her again, you're gonna wish you were dead. We'll come back for her stuff, you better not be here when we do." I wanted to cry, to scream, to shout. But I held it in, grabbing Gibbs more forcefully and dragging him back outside.

Once outside, we hopped in his car, and he began driving back to his house. Saying I was grateful was an understatement. Grateful that it was finally over. That maybe I could sleep at night now without worrying about waking up to another beating.

The ride was driven in silence, and soon we were at his house. He got out of the car and walked inside, leaving me out here by myslef. I walked in after him.

I found him in the the kitchen pouring a glass of Bourbon. I came up behind him hugging him.

"Thank you." He froze for a minute before turning in my grasp and brining me into a tight hug. And thats what started the tears. We stood there as I cried into his chest for what felt like forever. Until he finally pulled away and cupped my face.

"Ya didn't deserve any of that. Don't know what happened, or when it started. But ya didn't deserve any of it. You are beautiful and loved and noone should ever have to be treated the way you were." He paused and I began rambling out whatever words came to my mind.

"It was you. I stayed because he threatened you. He said he would hurt you and the team and I couldn't let him." He leaned his forehead against mine. The tears pouring steadily down my face, sobs racking by body.

"Shh, shh. Sweetheart its okay." He leaned in slightly, our lips brushing slightly. And then he leaned in the rest of the way, kissing me into he most gentle way he could. So much different than the bruising kisses that Darren would give me. He broke away after a second.

"Dont know if your ready for it, but I love ya." He said softly. "We can do this, if you want. At your own pace. I just want to show you whats its like to be loved the right way." I nodded.

"I might need some time. But I love you too... Jethro." He smiled.

"Take all the time you need. But m'not leaving your side." I giggled softly as he brought me into another hug. And I stood there whispering thank yous and I love yous until we headed off to bed. I hadn't felt this safe in a long time, and I never wanted to let this feeling go.

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Hope you guys enjoyed this one. I'm really enjoying writing for Gibbs. Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! Im so sorry if I don't get to your request! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#ncis gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis #imagine #angst #fluff #reader insert

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated.

Part I (Flowers)

La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong) Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people, and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled.

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

“It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

“Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

Now

“Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

Azriel

Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure. He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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sxfik · 3 years

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I have an idea!

Ok so we all know that Hanseo is abused by his big brother, and if i remember correctly, the jipuragi trio found out about it from the guillotine file for the first time.

Now hear me out, what if the jipuragi trio found out about the abuse from Hanseo himself, not from the guillotine file??

After failing to burn down geumga plaza, Hanseok threw that object at Hanseo, telling him not to dodge it, and it left a scar on his forehead. When Hanseo visited jipuragi, he seemed proud of that scar, right?? Because thats what he got from saving geumga plaza, and he hoped that the scar would show them that he wants to be on their side.

BUT lets forget about all those stuff for a moment.

Hanseok loves to strangle, threaten, and hit Hanseo with the hockey stick. It certainly happens more than once, so i figured that there must be a bunch of scars and bruises on his body right?? What if the jipuragi trio noticed one of his scars/bruises?? I know Hanseo always wear long-sleeved stuff, so its not exactly visible, but what if someone caught a glimpse of it??? Perhaps the scar/bruise was on his arm???

Maybe when Hanseo visits jipuragi, Vincenzo asks him to wash some coffee mugs, and as Hanseo is rolling up his sleeves...

"yo whats that on your arm??"

And maybe Hanseo is like "thats a bruise..? Do you not know what a bruise is??"

Okay, idk. I have no idea how he's gonna react if that happens. I just feel like Hanseo wouldnt be proud of his scars if he didnt get them from trying to save geumga/jipuragi people.

And now im just wondering, what do you think? How would Hanseo react, in your opinion? If the jipuragi trio really did find out about the abuse from Hanseo himself, how would that affect their relationship? Im really curious about what you think

Hhhhhhhh sorry if its too long. I just thought that this might be a good way for Hanseo and jipuragi to kinda get closer with each other...

han seo headcanons (part one)

helloooo, thank you for sending an ask in :D

SORRY this answer is super long and for some reason my phone isn't allowing me to add a keep reading cut thingy, apologies in advance to the amount scrolling you have to do

tw: abuse

i've been thinking so much about this ask and just how han-seo would react to them finding out, and honestly i never really took note of how many long sleeved shirts he wears. i believe han-seok has switched a lot more into emotional manipulation and abuse than physical abuse but he has a lot of anger issues. i'd honestly imagine him using han seo as a punching bag for any and every inconvinence that happens to him, even as an intern.

i also agree with you, han seo is someone who is a very bright personality who tends to hide his hurt and emotions, and he's very very good at it as he has been living under a psychopath his whole life. he's good at hiding his anger (although it definetly bubbles over in smaller outbursts) and especially his hurt (i.e. the scene that han seok throws that candle holder at him and he just smiles back). han seo has a lot of anger at himself for not speaking back or being able to act like himself. like in that scene in the office, you can tell as he curls his fist that he wanted to speak back so badly. even when he finally snaps against han seok, he said "i'm getting tired of being afraid of you." i feel like he'd be embarrassed that even after years, he hasn't been able to escape his abuse

next>

(you can also read the following on ao3)

i feel like this scene and their dynamic would play out something similar to this:

han seo joined the team and has been working with vincenzo and cha-young for around a month. at this point han seo isn't walking on eggshells with both of them, he's a lot more comfortable and visiting their office regularly without choi/han/han seok finding out.

sometimes it's vincenzo and cha-young providing him books to study economics from, maybe even giving some brotherly/sisterly advice to him. every couple weeks, vin and cha-young give him quizzes and slowly, he's getting better and better

over time, he even got closer to the plaza residents (even though the residents were definetly cold to him in the beginning, miri scaring the shit out of him by doing her ghost thing, the lady with the lipstick from bye bye balloon staring him down, snack bar lady refusing to serve him, larry also scaring the shit out of him by doing his zombie routine)

but despite this, they adopt him into their family, han seo doing small errands for the residents, him buying the best coffee, food and getting camera equipment for the snack bar lady's son. han seo gifting the pawnshop couple with cute baby items etc.

(obviously he buys the most expensive shit bc he's still a rich boy, but they dont have to know)

(side note: he'd be fucking adorable with a baby, imagine him being the babies "uncle han seo" who gets them the best gifts !!)

even though he was comfortable with all of them, every once in a while his facade would slip.

every once in a while, someone would make a sharp movement towards him and he'd flinch. or if someone makes a quick step towards him, he'd back up and stiffen up on instinct

even if it was someone patting his back or just making a quick movement, he'd react on instinct from the years of abuse from han seok. but no one ever said anything about it if they noticed.

one afternoon after lunch, they were washing dishes, han seo on washing duty and cha-young drying and placing them back. and han seo was in his full sleeves and cha-young notices his sleeves getting wet

"yah, roll your sleeves back, by the end of this your whole sleeve will be wet! you know how uncomfortable those sleeves would be?"

"ahaha, it's alright noona, i'll be fine"

han seo tries to laugh it off, grining at her with one of his wide grins but there's something off about this one. but cha-young gives one of her patented glares and he rolls them up carefully, shielding his arms from her view, and continues washing the rest.

cha-young doesn't take note of his bruises at first, but noted the care he went through to shield his arms from her. his arms were posed almost awkwardly and he was on high alert

it wasn't until after they both finished and he was drying his hands that cha-young saw the massive bruises he had, climbing up his forearms and under the sleeves

he stiffens when he sees her stare, and quickly tries to cover them but she grabs them before he could hide it

she's completely quiet while she stares at his arms. after a moment, he speaks up

"oh i accidentally banged these against my doorway, they're just small bruises. it's go away in a couple days" he smiles at her again but she could tell from the way his shoulders were frozen and the wavering of his voice that it wasn't the truth

"did he do these?" she asked him, her face completely neutral and her voice barely a whisper. she's still looking at his forearms, her fingers ghosting over the bruises.

han seo just looks down and the silence is enough of an answer for cha-young. he walks away, embarrassed that she found out about it, even though his years of therapy told him that it wasn't never his fault, he still felt the shame and anger of not being able to break free.

he's quiet for the rest of the time, feigning tiredness and finding an excuse to leave the plaza

that night, it was just vincenzo and her working at the office late, in preparation for babel. cha-young's mind was still on what she saw that afternoon. abruptly, she stands up, her hand gripping the pen in her hand as she turned to vincenzo sitting at the other desk.

"did you know that bastard hurt him? he's been abusing han seo this whole time?" she asked vincenzo, her voice seething with anger

"i know."

"you know??? why didn't you ever say anything?"

vincenzo looks up at her from his stack of papers, setting his pen down.

"it wasn't my place. i picked up on it when he flinched when mr. tak reached toward him to place a hand on his shoulder."

cha-young sat back down then, her lips pressed together, and vin went back to his paperwork

"we should get him out of there. who knows what han seok would do in one of his rages?"

"couple nights ago, we went to drink makgeolli and i offered him a way out. i told him if he ever needs to leave, and if he's ready to leave, he has a place at the plaza."

"and is he? leaving that is?"

"no. he thanked me, but said that he needed to stay until his brother and his group crumbles to the ground."

cha-young let out a sigh, biting her lip, the worry on her face all too evident

"hong cha-young byeonosa-nim, we shouldn't baby him. jang han seo deserves revenge against his brother just like we do and the choice is ultimately up to him."

"i know. i just worry."

they stayed quiet for the rest of the night, working late but the topic never leaves cha-young or vincenzo's minds

the next day, han seo avoided her like the plague, not wanting to talk about what she saw yesterday

but while he was studying, she approached him, a glass of juice and a snack in hand, setting it next to him. she checked over his work quietly as he took a break and glanced at his arms, doing a once over just to make sure he didn't get any new ones.

"well done, han seo, you're doing well" she smiled at him and ruffled his hair and han seo let out a breath of relief and gratefulness that she hadn't treated him any different

from then, cha-young and vin only got fonder of han seo and han seo was pretty much adopted by them. after the battle and han seok is in jail permanently, he moves out of his apartment, and gets one closer to the plaza.

mr. nam would show him how the organization worked at jipuragi and put him to work, the paralegal grateful to have an extra hand around the office

eventually, even han seo grows an affection to the instant coffee and buys more for himself and his apartment

vin would take him shopping for suits, both rich boys obsessed with their sleek looks. they take cha-young with them once but she manages to sleep off at every shop they go to.

vincenzo also plays hockey with him regularly and the plaza invites him to plaza game nights. they get up to all kinds of mischief,

han seo loves spicy food, just like cha-young so they make it their mission to go to try every restaurant and compete to see just how much spice they can handle. obviously vincenzo doesn't even make it past the first round of the spice competitions but cha-young and han seo have the same competitive streak that keeps them going

han seo is also dropping hints to both of cha-young and vincenzo that they should get married. constantly teasing vincenzo about cha-young in the way only younger brothers do

obviously on one of cha-young and han seo’s days out, han seo drops hints CONSTANTLY, trying to get her to admit cha young likes vincenzo

and OBVIOUSLY she slips up, and han seo doesn’t let go of it

he does the whole younger brother teasing every single time he catches cha-young glancing at vincenzo at the firm

“cha-young noona and vin hyung, sitting in a tree. K I S S I N—” “HAN SEO!!!”

obviously chayenzo eventually get together but decide to keep it a secret (and of course, they were awful at it)

eventually when they reveal it to the office, mr. nam and han seo react like that one scene in suspicious partner (“quick, act surprised” “*gasp* you guys are together??????? we had no idea!!”)

han seo is basically adopted as a younger brother to both cha-young and vincenzo and even the plaza loves his presence and he gets to have a peaceful existence for the rest of his life

anyways han seo deserves a happy ending with a good family. he deserves a second chance with a family that LOVES AND CARES FOR HIM AND GIVES HIM CHOICES AND ALLOWS HIM TO BE HIMSELF. (and yes this covered more than just one scene but I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS ON HIM) as always feel free to add on :D

#yes han seo calls her noona #they’re attached at the hip okay #both of them are chaos machines #literally vin cha young and han seo are the definetion of *too much energy* *too much energy* *calm*#mine #vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #chayenzo #hong cha young #song joong ki #tvn vincenzo #jeon yeo been #vincenzo x cha young #jang han seo #jang han seok #kwak dong yeon #ok taecyeon

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papers4me · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket Manga Review , ch 111

sigh~~~ I feel that my recent posts are a bit negative towards the anime, but thats cuz the chapters I’ve read so far are either unbelievably important character depth content cut for no valid reason or content in the anime but packed with million other things that it lost its purpose or importance. Basically tohu’s ep 6 which consists of 4 chapters & now ep 5 which is a momiji ep & yup, packed with 4 chapters as well... so, I apologize for any negativity, my intention is just analyzing artistic & story-telling aspects, I love se03, but yeah it screwed up lots of important characters due to its not so thorough plot decisions & harmful character insight choices.

today.. we explore Momiji... but only before his curse breaks.

Furuba anime struggling to know how to design an episode based on various plot-heavy chapters?

so, they decided 13 eps, & decided one ep for momiji cuz motoko’s graduation & the fanclub is the core of the furuba & have already cut tons of tohru, cuz who cares? she’s kind. be like her. end of lesson. No. really, jokes aside, how to do this?

How to combine several chapters in one ep? collect small snippets from chosen chapters/content like a bee does flowers? you gotta skip some content, you gotta highlight others. The ep is only 20 min after all & you got an op & Ed that you cant always skip.... so.. furuba team decide that momoji’s ep should be true to his zodiac animal, this is the rabbits last appearance in spirit. so, they went with quick hopping from one chapter to the other like a rabbit?

No really, ep 5 is really like a rabbit in its flow, you can’t savior a moment enough before jumping to the other: we learned momiji grew up!! loves toheu romantically, challenged kyo, really meant it, wanted a fair love game, got freed, lost tohru romantically & faced momiji! but that’s not all? we still have space!! quick add akito’s moodiness & love triangle with her dog & her submissive bed partner, add a happy comedy for no reason whatever & make shigue kiss tohru & wish shes 'was his lover instead!!!!!!!!! Mind you all this happened in the anime before shigure hurt tohru with his “the truth of the zodiacs talk & them accepting & feeling consolance that kyo is doomed”talk.

-Gets whats my biggest surprise after reading this chapter ?????????

Shigure is consistent!! He isnt a rabbit hopping here & there. The dog is loyal & is tired for good reason! Him being depressed & his weird talk with thoru makes so much sense given the manga’s order.

Kyo is consistent!! In the anime, momiji surprise him with confession he loves tohru & challenge him, then kyo la~la~la~joins them downstairs for curry. Not a single expression on his face, where is the expression? it will appear when the plot is forced to address it: by the end of the ep when momiji face hin again. Then we get kyo’s reaction.

I need someone to tell the anime that actions require a reaction. You can refrain from showing a certain reaction if you can’t address it now, but you can’t erase it, negate it, then make it appear when have to!!!! couldn’t they make kyo refuse to join them & eat together? the other characters wont be surprised they think he’s needlessly moody. The audience will know that kyo is troubled with momiji’s challenged & it will excite them!!! having kyo just go eat & watch the momiji/hiro/haru/yuki comedy skit is weird.

The manga’s author wanted kyo to join the dinner, like the anime did. but huge difference. the author actually cares for logic reaction & understands that the audience aren’t dumb little kids that will sit & wait for kyo’s turn to...react! nope! she did this: (a) & (b) below.

-Lost Small Bits/ Panels from the chapter.. But Sadly Big Huge Chunks for Characters buildup & Growth:

(a) addressed the fact the hiro noticed kyoru is in love & dressed that shigure was right!! the cat being in love is a weird concept to the zodiacs! hiro reacted naturally & the author used hiro to flesh yuki’s (the rat), momiji’s (the rabbit) & haru’s (the cow) decision to silently watch the kyo (the cat) makes his own decisions to live!!! They won’t interfere or tell akito or remind him of his state as the doomed caged cat. So sad this moment is cut from yuki. Why must yuki only interact with kyo to beat him (all seasons)? why must yuki only think of kyo to envy him (all seasons) ? Here, yuki’s growth towards kyo as a person & his relationship with tohru is 1000 times better than all tohru is my mom’s sh!t & I envy kyo’s Sh!t we saw in the anime over & over till we memorized it.

(b) kyo didnt just go la~la~eat with momiji after knowing he loves tohru. Nope, there’s small bits missing: called logical emotional reaction. He was surprised he’s caught pining over tohru! cuz yuki, the audience representative, has told us in the previous chapter that ppl in love dont notice anything around them. Kyo thinks him being cold hid his feelings. the dummy’s feelings are as bright as the sun in the Sahara, tohru too. a child read her! such small thing that wont take much space from the ep but was cut cuz kyo only needs to be responsive at the ep’s end. & this scene of kyo & tohru looking awkwardly at each other is minor in space but so important cuz kyo is determined to let go but his decision is challenged by not only momiji, but his natural attraction to tohru. Here he knows he’s caught & exposed... here he knows momiji is a better choice for tohru cuz he wont didn’t hurt her mom... here he knows that even yuki is better cuz never had to pretend to be cold to her... here he knows the world is better than him... & here he just cant help by smile & walks towards her... T_T ... another lesson in writing slow burns by Takaya-san.

-Why would the anime team pass on this?? drawing kyoru closer after the epic tear in Cinderella ep, cuz they want empty suspense~! The anime team thinks that if kyo & tohru stand next to each other, then it means all their issues are solved & the audience are so stupid as to forget tohru’s mom, kyo’s imprisonment, kyo not confessing his sins to tohru & tohru’s need to make a choice wether to fogive hom or not.. nope! you see, they think, ppl who read mangas are smart, so the author can give this epic symbolism & pp would still be not sure kyoru is end game & tohru will forgive him or kyo even fogive himself, but ppl who watch, oh no, gotta cut all the plot worthy content, produce a graduation song for a minor character, cut all kyo/tohru interaction cuz it only means romance & not at all character depth & oh if we show yuki actually formulating deep thoughts that aren’t centered around him, the audience might forget his se02 struggles! or that might ruin yuki’s upcoming growth moment in the finale where he .. you guessed it hits kyo.. as he always do & sulk & think abt himself cuz yuki can only do monologues when he’s directly involved.... man~it is so sad how the anime is dumped down.. Who is the target audience again? not kids as young as hiro cuz even hiro is smart!

-just look:

Momiji talks abt kyo shouldn't give up loving tohru & the authr shows this this ghost!!! his mom! The author reminds us that kyo isnt da~~~~ forgetting anything. He’s a deeply troubled soul & hos mom wants him locked cuz she too was locked in a cage & thinks that’s safer...why oh why you dump ur own story! sh!t~

Side Notes:

I like the closeups on Kisa’s face as she interacted with kyo. It’s very rare for kisa to have a world beside the endearing parental/big protective bro/big doting sister love she has with tohru & haru & off course the romantic love with hiro which was perhaps since their birth or sth. lol. Kisa & kyo arent much on the brotherly side as they rarely interact, but its one of those refreshing interactions she has that helps cast a new light on her as tiny as it is, but its sth out of the norm around her. She sees him around tohru & gets to perceive his true unprovoked character. “He is nice guy”.

I really wanted to punch kureno this chapter.. like Shigure is a jerk shitty dog for sleeping with akito’s mom but kureno... dude.. you submissively sleep with the guy’s eternal love interest & still walks in on him talking to her!!! lol. you’re mentally, emotionally & physically weaker than him & yet, she puts you on her bed, not him & you, tho not wanting her at all, dont walk away. No wonder shigure is defeated & wishing for someone like tohru, lol! Even if shigure met an older tohru-like person, it wont work. shigure deserve someone like him mean, schemer & loves playing power games. Tohru is someone who values honesty & commutation, not saying she’s an angel on earth, but tohru knows who suits her.. except fate is saying: NO. .... currently. lol.

I know kureno’s weakness is part of his character & I love that such characters exits. There are ppl ike that in real life. It’s just this chapter, I felt shigure’s frustration. XD

Yuki in this ep is the best yuki. no exaggeration here, I love when yuki is calmly thoughtful of others & here its kyo of all ppl !!!! cutting this scene is sad.. without it, kyo & yuki remain a cat & rat in the anime. Only ever thinking abt each other thro envious binoculars or hateful words or yuki giving kyo comedic hitting or life’s problem-solving hitting. Why can’t anime yuki be interactive outside his self-centered issues is beyond me.

Momiji & kyo’s interactions are always the best! whether comedy or drama.

I hated the curry cooking scene in the anime... so weirdly out of the ep’s flow.. very forced comedy... in the manga it had a purpose! not just quick add comedy cuz next shot momiji curse breaks & drama & we’ll close the ep with tears & sadness & glimpses of hope...

I love haru’s answer to hiro... so him.. “a guy can’t fall in love?”so chill.. so..simple.

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #manga spoilers #fruits basket manga #manga review #sad paper #mad paper #I'm having shitty personal day dont mind me #sorry for extra anger #if it sounds like I;m screaming or shouting #I'm not i swear #I really love the anime & se03 is the best content among the other seasons #its just have big giant issues in plot & characters....

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onionsaremeansstuff · 3 years

Note

Would you write a michael (john) smut story were the reader is his soulmate and some random guy is flirting with him. also michael gets possessive with the reader which causes them to have sex

hey! Thanks for the request ! Michael is one of my favorite characters in supernatural so i really liked you request ! I’m not the best smut writer but I tried, hope you like it!

Pairing: Michael!John x reader

Gender: Male

Warnings: Smut

I dont own the character or the gif

"Y/N! Stop!" A deep, booming voice ordered which caused you to stop.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was that ordered you to stop.

It was the archangel, Michael.

A few weeks ago, Chuck had decided to release Michael from the cage, as well as giving Adam his body back and Michael was using young John Winchester's body as a vessel.

You had never met the archangel before and honestly, you never wanted to meet him. But, since you lived with the Winchesters, meeting him was bound to happen eventually.

When you first met the Archangel, he only stared at you like he was seeing through you and claimed that you were special.

Apparently you were some kind of powerhouse that Chuck created for Michael.

As long as you are living, Michael gets stronger, especially when he's around you.

When he first claimed that you were special, you scoffed and told him to go fuck himself and leave you alone. But, that didn't stop the prince of Heaven from doing what he wanted.

He always came to the bunker to check on you. And you asked why he cares about you so much.

"I don't care about you, I only care about what you can do, little human." He told you.

He made it very clear why he came to check up on you and this time wasn't any different.

He also liked to order you around.

"It's already 3 AM, Y/N. You humans need your sleep. Go to bed now and that's an order!"

You looked at him tiredly and was about to say something back to him when you really looked at him and his vessel.

Damn, John was hot.

You met older John before and you thought that he was definitely a DILF.

But, his younger self was hot as fuck.

"Stop having those thoughts about my vessel and go to bed!" The Angel ordered once again.

"Okay, you don't tell me what to do. You don't own me," You responded, and annoyance was written across Michael's face. He snapped his fingers and you were suddenly lying down in your bed with your pajamas on, "Michael!" You scolded.

You were standing in the kitchen, waiting for Dean to finish making breakfast which consisted of pancakes and bacon.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He growled out before he disappeared with the sound of flapping wings.

---

"Hurry up, Dean. I'm starving!" You exclaimed and a chuckle left the older man's mouth.

"You will survive, kiddo." He replied and went back to cooking the food.

Finally, he finished the food and put it on a plate for you. He handed it to you and you took it out of his hands quickly, plopping down into the chair and picking up a fork, ready to eat this delicious food.

When you were about to eat it, the plate freakin' disappeared. It was gone.

"What the-" Before you could finish that sentence, a plate full of salad appeared in front of you.

A freakin' salad?!

"Your diet is horrible, little human." Michael commented with that stupid smirk on his face.

"I'm sure that there are other important things for you to do in Heaven right now than to worry about my health and my food choices, Michael." You said angrily, anger rising in your chest.

Dean sat at the table, eating his food as he watched you two go at it.

"There's actually nothing important that I have to do in Heaven right now, Y/N. Heaven is doing great which is the exact opposite of what you are doing right now. Don't even get me started on the fact that you didn't even get 8 hours of sleep last night."

You blinked at the angel in front of you.

This angel is crazy. He is not your dad and was not someone to boss you around and make you eat rabbit food. You don't eat rabbit food. You now see and understand what Dean was talking about when Sam brought that food in here.

You have officially had enough.

You just smiled at them. A huge fake smile and grabbed the knife off the table. You walked over to the wall as the other two standing in the room watched you. After cutting your palm, you drew that angel banishing sigil on the wall.

"What are you-" Michael couldn't finish that sentence because you completed the sigil and sent that damn angel away.

"Ah, couple fights always make my mornings better." Dean spoke once Michael was gone with his mouth full of bacon and you rolled your eyes, leaving the room.

---

That night, you and the Winchesters went to a bar.

The brothers headed inside while you stayed outside, sitting on the bench. There weren't anyone out here except for a few other people. Some drunk and some not.

"Hey handsome, did your license get suspended because you are driving me crazy." A random guy said that really cheesy pick up line to you, giving you a smile and you laughed.

"You get a 0 for the pickup line, but a 10 for making me laugh." You told him and started chatting with him.

"So, Y/N..." He started rubbing his finger up and down your thigh as you felt yourself flush, "I may not be from NASA, but can I show you stars today?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the annoying angel interrupted your conversation.

"Sorry, but he's busy today." Michael spoke, irritation could be heard in his voice. He grabbed onto your shoulder and teleported you back to the bunker.

"What the hell is your problem, Michael?" You screamed at the archangel.

"That disgusting human tried to have sex with you, Y/N! I saved you!"

"Maybe I wanted to have sex with him, Mikey." You retaliated, grabbing your knife and getting ready to draw that angel banishing sigil again, but Michael snapped his fingers and the knife disappeared.

"You deserve way better than that filthy mongrel." Michael insisted.

"Look, I know I'm like your powerhouse, or whatever, but you can't control my life. My eating habits and sleep schedule were pretty harmless, but who I have sex with is crossing a line and is none of your business." You told him, "Besides, I'm human. A mongrel or a hairless ape like you always say, so why do you care so much?"

Michael stared at you for a long time before telling you what he was thinking, "Because I can't stand the idea of someone touching you." He let out a sigh and looked anywhere other than you.

You looked at him in confusion, "Why can't you stand it?"

"I lied to you, Y/N. You are not a source of energy for me. You never were." He admitted, sitting on the bed, "You are so much more than just that. You are my soulmate."

You stared at him for a couple seconds before you started laughing hysterically.

"Me? Your soulmate?" You laughed again before having a serious expression on your face, "If this is some plan to get me to let you control my life, it's not gonna work."

He looked at you, hurt and confused.

"I'm serious, Y/N. When I left the cage, Dad told me he had created a soulmate for me weeks ago." He got up from the bed and walked over to you, "When he showed me you, I started to laugh. How can a hairless ape be my soul mate? My father must have been crazy." He looked at you deep in your eyes, "But, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I looked down on you from Heaven all the time to see how you were and your little habits. Oh My Father, I couldn't stand it. I wanted you. I wanted every inch of you," He walked closer to you and placed his hand on your cheek, "When I first met you in person, I thought about just taking care of you and being close to you and when I saw that man hit on you, I couldn't take it anymore. My grace boiled inside of me and before I knew it, I was on earth."

You couldn't really process everything that he just said, but for some reason you knew that he was telling the truth.

"Michael..."

"I can't stand the idea of another person, or thing touching you, Y/N. Please accept me as your soulmate." He bowed, waiting for your answer.

You always said you hated Michael and everything he did, but that was far from the

As much as the angel irritated you and could be very annoying, you felt a feeling of love deep down for this man.You loved Michael and all the things he has done for you.

So, you knew what decision was right for you in the end.

"I accept you as my soulmate."

And with that the angel smiled and attached his lips to yours. His muscular arms soon pulled at your waist, bringing you closer to him.

"I wanted to do this for so long." He said between kisses and then lifted you up.

You were slightly worried about your weight but soon remembered that for an angel, you basically weighed nothing.

"Please Y/N, allow me to have you tonight. Allow me to make our flesh become one and allow me to merge your soul with my grace." You grunted yes between his lips but he seemed to understand since he threw you on your bed while looking at you as if you were his prey.

He started removing the shirt he was wearing and you could see the man's muscular torso.

"Lust is a deadly sin, Y/N." He bent down and started kissing your collarbone until he reached your ear, "Lucky you have an angel to cleanse you of your sins."

Michael went back to your neck, sucking on it, making you moan his name.

"This is it Y/N, pray for me." He started to suck hard on your neck until it was all marked with hickeys, "Now no miserable mortal will dare touch what is mine." He got up a little and kissed you hard, as his hand went under your shirt and caressed your torso. Michael pulled away to look at you.

"You are by far the most perfect human to ever exist. in fact, it is a crime to compare you to a human. You are closer to a God." He said as a gentle hand stroked your sides.

"Michael, there are more beautiful humans in the world than me." you said a little shy

"Well, I have watched humanity billions of years and you are my father's most beautiful creation." You blushed and Michael smirked, feeling confident.

He started to remove his belt slowly, lowering his pants enough for you to see his underwear.

"Do you like what you see, my prince?" He teased, winking at you.

"Who knew an angel could secretly be a demon in bed."

"You woke up a darker side of me, my prince. I had to deal with them myself, so I ended up learning something or two." He took off his pants and lowered his underwear enough to show his pubes.

"Did you watch porn?" You asked and he just smiled.

"It doesn't matter now, honey." Michael lowered his underwear and revealed his erect member.

You had seen John naked once by accident and you already knew that older Winchester had a big package.

But, oh my Chuck the size scared you a little bit.

"We’ll take it easy, Y/N. Don't be afraid." He gently caressed your thigh as a method to calm you down.

When he saw that you were fine he crawled over to you, sitting on your chest and pointing his erect member in front of you

"You know... seeing you sucking lollipops and popsicles was always a hell of a good sight to see. Your lips working on something so cold and hard, and still not being able to do anything. Well, I think you should pay me for having teased me for so long." He stated, brushing the head of his dick on your tongue "What a sight..." He gently put his dick in your mouth, inch by inch until it reached halfway and stopped.

"So hot and so cozy." Michael groaned and put a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair "Look at me." He ordered and you complied.

The moment you looked into his eyes you felt a thick taste of pre-cum in your mouth.

Slowly Michael pulled his hip back, leaving only his cockhead in your mouth before slowly putting it all back on. He repeated this movement over and over until you got used to it and then he started to fuck your mouth, getting deeper and deeper into your throat and making you choke a few times. Michael fucked your throat with formidable speed as he threw his head back and moaned.

"So perfect." He spoke as he took his dick out of your mouth, bending down and planting a sweet kiss on your lips as well as checking if you were okay, "Let me worship you, my prince." Michael snapped his fingers and soon you were fully naked.

He turned you over and started to kiss your neck gently, making a kiss trail up and down your neck. He slowly went lower and lower, until he reached your ass. He put a hand on each cheek separating them and revealing your hole.

"So beautiful." Was the last thing you heard before feeling something wet and hot touching the perimeter of your hole.

Michael gently brushed you with the tip of his tongue while his rough hands gripped your ass tightly. He wanted to mark you everywhere on your body.

Soon a strange but good feeling started inside you, it was like you were being touched inside and soon a groan escaped your lips.

"What are you doing?" You asked between incessant moans.

"My grace has many uses, Y/N and I heard that stimulating the prostate causes great pleasure. Apparently this is true." He replied as he ate you out.

But this time he didn't lick gently. He was devouring you. Michael's tongue was fast and hungry, exploring the entire perimeter of your hole before penetrating you.

It was too much. The feeling was so overwhelming. Michael's tongue along with his grace made you unable to think.

You felt your orgasm coming real quick, but you couldn't warn Michael in time.

When you were so close to a release everything stopped and you felt something holding your dick.

"Not yet, Y/N. We're going to do this together." Michael said and came out of the middle of your legs, kissing your crack up to your neck. He forced you to look at him and kissed you, "Y/N. My prince, will you give me permission to take you?"

You took a moment to contemplate Michael. The blue-green eyes looked at you with indescribable passion, as if you were a masterpiece that deserved to be contemplated. His mouth curled upward into a smile and his dark hair was so sweaty.

You always thought Michael's vessel was beautiful, but now you can't think of anything more beautiful than him. You no longer see him as young John, but as the person who loved you.

"Y/N? Is everything okay? If I went too far I'm sorry I thought that-"

"No, sorry I was just lost in thoughts." You kissed him on the lips, "Take me, Michael."

He smiled and snapped his fingers.

"As much as the whole preparation process is interesting and important, I am impatient, so why not just use my grace, right?" He winked at you and turned you on your back and positioned himself between your legs.

Michael slowly started to penetrate you until the head of his dick was completely inside of you. He looked at you to check that everything was fine before going in deeper. Inch by inch until he was completely inside. He bent down and started kissing your neck, waiting for you to get used to his size.

Michael then started to move, taking all of his length except his head and then putting everything back on. He repeated the movement over and over, each time with more speed until finally he pounds you.

Michael turned into a moaning mess while he fucked you.

He started kissing you while you moaned against each other.

One of Michael's hands flicked your nipple while another explored and caressed your torso. This along with Michael's accurate hit on your prostate made you moan loudly and Michael smirked.

"Do you think that man from earlier could make you feel the way you're feeling now?" Michael asked, "Do you think he would be able to fuck you the way I fuck you?" You didn't answer the question, but Michael already knew the answer.

Michael's arms wrapped around you and turned you over. Now you were on top of him.

"Ride me, babyboy." He put his hands behind his head and waited for you to start riding him, admiring the view.

Michael had seen countless things in the world. From the paintings of each classic painting to the creation of each of the wonders of the world, but nothing could match the sight he was seeing now.

With your eyes closed and your head thrown back, you moaned and rode him like there was no tomorrow.

Michael moved his hands and placed one on each side of your, guiding you in the movements you were making.

He knew was almost close and knew you would soon be close, too. Michael pulled you against his chest, moving so that he could move his hips so that he could continue to fuck you.

"Y/N," He moaned out," My prince, my soul mate. I love you and I would leave everything for you. Heaven and my grace. You are my everything." Michael declared, but you could barely think with him pounding into you, his dick hitting your prostate constantly.

You felt something warm involving you.

It was Michael's wings.

With a grunt, Michael came inside of you but without stopping his movements.Your battered prostate along with the feeling of Michael's hot cum inside you brought you to your orgasm.

With your orgasm, Michael's movements became more and more slow until he finally stopped with both you panting hard.

Michael kissed you everywhere. On your head, your lips, your forehead, your neck.

His wings still surrounded you.

Michael moved you, putting you aside while he spooned you, his cock still inside you.

A comforting hand gently caressed your thigh, "You are perfect, Y/N. I am eternally grateful that you let me love you." He kissed the back of your neck "Now rest my prince. Tomorrow we will have many things to do." He gave you one last kiss on the back of your neck.

You didn't know exactly what your relationship with Michael would be like now. But honestly you didn't care about that.

All you cared about was the fact that your angel was hugging you with his wings surrounding you.

And nothing else.

#Michael x male reader #Michael x reader #male reader #x male reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x reader #young john winchester #supernatural Michael x reader #John winchester x Male reader #John winchester x reader

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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

Note

Loved your latest chapter and Im so excited to see what happens under the mountain!

I was wondering if I could request a one-shot?(up to you how long and you can do it in your own time)something along the lines of:

Feyre( from either ACOWAR, ACOFAS or ACOSF) time travels back to ACOTAR, but instead of finding herself back in her human body i the spring court, she's still in her fae body and ends up trapped in velaris, having to explain to the rest of IC who she is and why she cant go free their highlord(add some mistrust from the IC)

🙈🙈Id its very similar to what youre doing rn with your other fic but, if you find the inspiration sometime could you please do this? Ive wanted to read a fic for ages were feyre rime travels and meets pre-acomaf inner circle who dont know/trust her, but Ive never found a fic like that

Thank youuu

Hi lovely anon! It makes me so happy you enjoyed my latest chapter! I’m supposed to be working on a project for uni, but I couldn’t resist gratifying my lovely friends (because you're anon and won't be notified I was getting sad at the idea of you checking my blog and not seeing me respond) <3 I’ll admit I’m a bit scatterbrained at the moment, so I hope it’s okay!

I was having trouble brainstorming a reason for Feyre getting sent back in time because I didn't want to borrow the reasoning from ACoFD. So I was vague and twisted the pre-existing rules around the Ouroboros, and ended up getting quite carried away with the story since I don’t like not giving things a happy ending (even though it’s a little cheesy, sorry)

Anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for! I know you wanted the angst of not being able to save Rhys but... I couldn't just leave my poor bat-boy behind, you know? ;)

Also if this didn't quite scratch that itch, I'm always happy to take more requests

Word count: 4,446

The Ouroboros.

It was a massive, round disc—as tall as Feyre was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail.

Ending and beginning.

From across the room, Feyre could not see it. What lay within.

She forced herself to take a step forward. Another.

The mirror itself was black as night—yet… wholly clear.

She watched herself approach. Watched the arm she had upraised against the wind and snow, the pinched expression on her face. The exhaustion.

She stopped three feet away. She did not dare touch it.

It only showed Feyre herself. Nothing.

Feyre scanned the mirror for any signs of… something to push or touch with her magic. But there was only the devouring head of the serpent, its maw open wide, frost sparkling on its fangs.

Feyre stared and stared, but all she saw was herself. There was nothing else. Then—

Feyre woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed to shake away the cobwebs of sleep and the strange, foreboding feeling that felt draped around her shoulders like a weighted cape, pulling her down. It hadn’t been a particularly horrifying nightmare. In fact, it was perhaps of the tamer dreams she’d had in the last year.

Yet something about it clung to her, perhaps a lingering agitation that she’d yet to retrieve the mirror the Bone Carver had requested. That must be it.

The bed space beside her was cold. The sun peaking through the window was not high, it couldn’t be long past dawn. However worrisome her own dream, her mate’s must have been worse to draw him from sleep so early. Worse still for him to sneak away.

Feyre rose from the bed, reaching absently for Rhysand’s dressing robe to wrap around herself. She always loved to steal her mate’s clothes, to be wrapped in his scent.

With gentle steps, she made her way to the study, where she could only assume Rhys had sequestered himself in the lone hours of the night. She’d noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. This war was weighing on him heavily, and he was nervous. Feyre wished he didn’t insist on shouldering the burden alone.

“Rhys?” Feyre called softly as she got to the study, knocking on the door before she cracked it open.

Peeking her head around the door, she was met with the sight of Rhysand’s abandoned study. The scattered papers and war maps that had become characteristic of his desk space were surprisingly missing. In fact, the whole space had been cleared away and there was a thick layer of dust on every surface as if no one had been in here in years.

Feyre frowned at the sight, and how different it had been just the day before. Where had all the dust come from? And more importantly, where was Rhys? Perhaps he’d taken a morning flight to clear his head.

Where are you, love? She called to him through the mating bond, but was met with silence.

“Who are you?”

The voice was cold and venomous. Feyre turned, coming face to face with Mor, whose face was twisted into a threatening scowl.

“Mor?” Feyre asked, confused by her friend’s cold demeanor. “What do you mean? Have you seen Rhys?”

Mor’s face turned deadly, a look Feyre had only ever seen from Mor in the Court of Nightmares. “Is that some kind of joke?” she snarled.

Then, before Feyre could process what was happening, Mor had gripped onto Feyre’s wrist and they were enveloped in darkness. They stepped into the House of Wind, into the dining room where Cassian and Azriel abruptly stood up.

“Mor?” Feyre questioned when the blonde didn’t release her steel grip. She looked to Cassian and Azriel quizzically. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Cassian crossed his arms, assessing Feyre with a hostility that put her on edge. “Who’s this, Mor?” he asked gruffly.

Feyre frowned as she watched Azriel reach for Truth-Teller.

“Is this a joke?” she asked, flitting her eyes to each of her friends. Where she sought that friendly warmth in each of their gazes she was met with hard stares, filled with distrust, ready for a brawl. She couldn’t make sense of it. Was this an act Rhys had put them up to?

“I found her in the townhouse,” Mor said. “I don’t know how she got in there. She was in Rhysand’s study.”

“And she’s wearing his dressing gown,” Azriel noted dryly. Cassian did a double glance, his eyes going wide, then narrowing with a rage Feyre had never seen from the male. Certainly never directed at her.

There was a whisper of shadow, then suddenly Azriel was behind her, Truth-Teller poised at her throat.

Feyre startled. “Azriel!” she said sharply. Even if it was a joke, Feyre couldn’t imagine Rhysand would sanction this kind of threat. And the energy in the room was off, the tension too thick. “Stand down.”

“And who are you,” he breathed in her ear, his voice coated in shadow and nightmare, “to command the Shadowsinger of the Night Court?”

“I’m your High Lady,” Feyre answered steadily, not letting Azriel’s shadows, nor cunning voice, shake her resolve. “Now, I don’t know what is going on with the three of you, or what strange joke you’re trying to pull, but you will listen to what I say. Put. Your. Knife. Down.”

“High Lady?” Cassian repeated with a snort of disbelief. “You’ve got balls, little girl.”

Truth-Teller danced across the skin of her neck, pressing lightly enough to intimidate without breaking skin. “Do you even know to whom you speak? You should be bowing before the acting Queen of the Night Court.”

Too stunned to properly resist, Azriel kicked his feet out to knock Feyre to her knees in front of Mor. His fingers slid into her hair, gripping it tightly to pull her head back as Truth-Teller resumed its threatening position at her throat.

“Breaking into the High Lord’s personal residence, impersonating a high position within the Night Court, lying to the Morrigan’s face,” Azriel listed, increasing the pressure of the blade with each transgression. “You throw our High Lord’s generosity and protection in his face, something we as his acting Court do not take lightly.”

“Acting court? Acting Queen?” Feyre repeated, feeling as if she’d woken to a different reality. “What are you talking about? Where’s Rhysand!?”

“We’re the ones asking the questions here,” Cassian growled.

Feyre looked to each of her friends, studying their faces. Beyond their militant expression, she could see their grief. Could smell it. She repeated, “where is Rhysand?”

She felt the snarl that rumbled through Azriel’s chest behind her, vibrating against her back. When the question was once again unanswered, Feyre abandoned all sense of patience.

Darkness exploded through the room. She heard Mor gasp as the walls of the House shook from the might of her power. Feyre folded into the shadows, winnowing out of Azriel’s grasp so she stood in the center of the three of them.

“Az, Cass, Mor, you are my friends and I do not want to hurt you. But I am also your High Lady and you will answer me this instant, where is Rhys? Where is my mate!?”

Siphons gleamed red and blue through the thick tendrils of night, illuminating the Illyrian males’ faces. Cassian’s jaw had fallen open, while Azriel was studying her through narrowed eyes, wisps of shadow surrounding him. Feyre wondered what they were whispering to him.

“Mate?” Cassian echoed, the first to break the heavy silence.

Mor took a cautious step forward, her countenance completely changed. Her pupils were blown wide, twin brown depths churning with sorrow and gentle astonishment. Azriel went rigid at Mor’s approach, but no one moved to stop her as she came face to face with Feyre.

“Where did you get this?” she whispered, taking Feyre’s left hand, eye fixed on her mating band. On the sapphire-star ring that once belonged to Rhysand’s mother.

All eyes befell the subject of Mor’s attention. Cassian swore softly in recognition.

“It’s my mating band,” Feyre answered measuredly, still puzzled that the inner circle, her family, didn’t seem to have any memory of it. Nor of her. “I won it from the Weaver, as was the task set by Rhysand’s mother. But you were all there for that. I don’t understand what’s going on. Where. Is. Rhys?”

“Under the Mountain,” Mor whispered, her voice soft and pained.

The darkness ebbed away like a receding tide. Feyre felt her heart sink as she tried to process this information. “He—What?”

“He’s been Under the Mountain for the last 50 years,” Mor said, firmer this time. “And if you were his so-called mate, you would know that.”

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible. We got out. We—”

This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, and she just hadn’t woken up from it.

“Amarantha’s dead,” Feyre insisted, mostly in an attempt to console the unparalleled grief and panic that were raging inside her. “She’s dead, and Rhys and I got out.”

The grim faces of her friends said otherwise. They stared at her, in unbearable mixtures of pity and horror.

“I think she’s having a mental break,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “Should we get a healer?”

“Let me show you,” Feyre said meekly, casting her magic out to tap on their mental shields.

They all tensed, clearly not aware they’d been in the presence of a daemati. Trained well by Rhys, they all cracked their shields just enough for Feyre to send her conjured memories through. She showed them going Under the Mountain as a human, winning the trials and being resurrected, falling in love with Rhys, and eventually becoming High Lady of the Night Court. In turn, the three of them pushed back their own memories, of the current state of the world. Of Rhysand sacrificing himself so that his Court and Velaris would be safe.

A sob broke out of Feyre. “How is this possible? How am I here?”

It was Azriel who immediately went for the jugular. “More importantly, if you’re here as a High Fae, how is Rhys going to get out? How do we stop Amarantha?”

Feyre fell to her knees, grief-stricken by this realization. She was no longer human. She couldn’t stride in as Tamlin’s human lover and undergo the trials. Feyre had her powers, but they were untested. Would she be able to take on the whole of Amarantha’s court?

“What do I do? How do I save him?” she whimpered, staring in mute horror at her mating band.

Mor tentatively reached forward, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s shoulder. “Rhys sacrificed himself to keep the people he loves safe. He wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed trying to save him.”

“I have to try,” Feyre answered desperately. “Amarantha she’s…” Feyre couldn’t bring herself to say the word, rape. Not to his family, who wear his sacrifice for them like an open wound. “She’s doing unspeakable things to him. He’s suffering so much. I can’t leave him to that fate. I have to try.”

With renewed conviction, Feyre accepted Mor’s outstretched hand and picked herself to her feet. “Rhys said it himself once. Amarantha’s biggest weapon is that she keeps the High Lord’s power contained. She can’t access them herself. But I… I have access to all the High Lords’ powers. And that bitch has my mate. My wrath will be plenty to take her down.” She faced her friends, who watched her warily. “You have my word as your High Lady,” she swore to them. “The High Queen of Prythian is going to fall by the night’s end.”

⟡⟡⟡

Winter had not yet fallen in the Mortal Lands. Feyre wondered if across the world, there was a version of herself curled in a bed with her sisters, clinging to any shred of warmth and survival.

That version of Feyre was very different from the version who strode up the sloping hills of the Spring Court with Azriel by her side. Rhys would be furious that Feyre had allowed him to accompany her. Should anything go wrong, it would destroy her mate to know his family had been put in harm's way after everything he’d done to protect them. Which was why it was only Azriel who came with, the only compromise she could reach with his Inner Circle, who insisted on coming with.

Who better to sneak into the Mountain with than the very soldier who taught Feyre the art of stealth. He was the obvious choice, since Mor needed to stay to rule the Night Court and Cassian was too heavy-handed to handle such a delicate task.

Their footfall was silent. Feyre wrapped them in the shadow of Night as they winnowed through the cave network. Her heart hammered in her chest, panicked to be back in the source of so many nightmares.

But Rhysand was more important than her fear. For him, she would not falter.

With the Shadowsinger by her side, Feyre snuck through the winding tunnels until she came to a familiar passageway. They slid into a massive, dark bedroom, lit only by a few candles.

To attack Amarantha in the throne room would be too messy. Too many variables to contend with, should Amarantha have enough wit about her to use any faeries as a shield. Especially Rhysand.

After several hours of waiting, the lock on the door clicked and swung open. Darkness swirled around the room as Rhysand took in the sight of Feyre and Azriel on the bed.

Immediately, the door slammed shut.

“No,” he whispered, voice dripping with horror. “No.”

“Rhys—” Feyre started, but her mate wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was looking at Azriel as if his whole world had shattered.

“Leave,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. This was no happy reunion between brothers. This was Rhysand’s worst nightmare. “Leave this instant, you stupid fool. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have avoided detection when you passed under her wards.”

“I took down the wards,” Feyre said. They weren’t particularly strong, either. Amarantha had gotten lazy, perhaps thinking herself secure with the only spell-cleaver under her control. Or so she believed.

Rhys turned that quiet fury towards her. “And who are you?”

“Your mate,” Feyre answered steadily, tipping her chin up.

Rhysand laughed. A desperate, humorless sound. “Then you are just as foolish as my idiot brother. And you have both sealed your deaths by being here. Do you understand that?”

Feyre scratched along those familiar adamantite shields. Rhys’s eyes flickered in surprise, but otherwise he looked unruffled as he cracked a sliver open for her.

It would be unwise to underestimate me, mate.

I wouldn’t be going around boasting about such a thing, if what you claim is even true, came his icy response. And I wouldn’t count on a few party tricks to save you, either.

And what if I told you, she purred, that I possess the power of all seven High Lords?

That, at least, garnered a reaction from the stoic male. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief, studying Feyre carefully. His gaze caught on her hands, at the lace tattoos that flowed to her fingers. And the mating band she still wore.

Feyre watched those violet eyes go wide, the silver constellations dancing in astonishment at the sight of his mother’s ring.

Where did you get that?

It’s a long story, love, but you’re going to have to trust me. She lowered her mental shields completely. Have a look for yourself. I’m telling you no lies. I am your High Lady, and I am here to free my husband.

She felt those familiar talons wrap around her mind. A foolish thing to do, to give a daemati unrestricted access to her mind. And if it were anyone but Rhys, it would have been. But his touch was gentle, and he took only the information he needed.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” he whispered, breaking the silence of the room. Azriel had been waiting patiently, but looked relieved to be included in the conversation once more. “And I hate that you’ve put yourselves in danger for this, but it could work.”

Rhys considered for a long moment, then he looked between Feyre and Azriel and said, “do it when she’s sleeping. That bitch has been playing dirty for 50 years, you might as well level the playing field to give yourselves the best chance. Let’s do it tonight. I’ll leave the door unlocked, wear her out, and signal you once she’s asleep. Her spell prevents me from harming her, but I’ll make sure she’s restrained. All you have to do is drive the ash dagger through her heart, but have your magic ready for damage control.”

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre and Azriel waited in Rhysand’s bedchambers for his signal. There was a revelry tonight, as there was every night Under the Mountain, and Rhys was expected to be in attendance. Afterwards, he’d join Amarantha in her bed and make sure she was, in his words, “thoroughly exhausted”.

It was torturous for Feyre. To know exactly what the implication in those words were, to have to use her mate’s body in such a way. She wanted to roar at the Mountain, at the Cauldron, at anything that would listen, but instead she was next to the quiet, brooding Shadowsinger, and lamented in silence.

She’d begged Rhys to reconsider, to perhaps help them stage a more physical encounter that didn’t rely on his own suffering. But he’d denied any plan but the one he’d proposed, insisting it would cause him more anguish to but Feyre and Azriel in harm's way.

So they waited the long, agonizing hours until she felt a delicate pull at her chest. She’s asleep, Rhys called. Be on your guard.

He sent her directions to Amarantha’s bedchambers. There were guards outside, but Feyre and Azriel winnowed past them, cloaked in night and shadow.

Amarantha’s bedchambers were huge. Feyre had never been inside them before, but she was unsurprised to see they provided any luxury a High Queen could wish for.

Atop a large bed of red, silken sheets, lay her mate and Amarantha, both stark naked. The smell of sex clung to the air, Rhysand and Amarantha’s scents intertwined. Feyre thought she might be sick.

Even more sickening was the sight before her, of Amarantha’s arms restrained to the headboard in cloth. A clever way for Rhys to restrain her under the guise of sex, but horrifying nonetheless, to see the proof of what they’d been up to. The female was fast asleep, so convinced of her authority that she could fall asleep tied-up and not feel vulnerable doing so. How satisfying, Feyre thought, that such arrogance would be her downfall.

Feyre warded the room, putting up a shield of darkness so that no sound would break through to alert the guards. Rhys watched their approach warily from where he perched beside Amarantha, so still Feyre was convinced he held his breath.

He wouldn’t risk moving to wake her up, which terrified Feyre. Should something go wrong, her mate would be susceptible to Amarantha’s wrath. Naked, vulnerable, and completely under her control. It was such a dangerous game they were playing.

The room was as quiet and still as the bewitching hours of the night, their footsteps silent as they picked across the room. Azriel held the ash dagger. If Rhys could not kill Amarantha, his brother wanted to do it on his behalf. Meanwhile, Feyre summoned tendrils of night that carefully wrapped around Amarantha’s legs, slithering up her body like a snake, ready to constrict and restrain.

The female stirred in her sleep, perhaps feeling the ghostlike touch of Feyre’s magic. But she did not wake. Not as Azriel raised the dagger over her chest, and not as he plunged it down.

Amarantha’s eyes shot open as the dagger pierced her chest. She let out a shriek of agony and ire, moving to claw at her attacker. She raged against the restraints, spewing obscenities until they died at her lips as the blade sunk into her heart.

Rhysand’s chest was heaving as he watched the female still, then slump. He looked from her dead body, to Azriel and Feyre.

Feyre’s heart sank as she watched her mate process that it was truly over. There wasn’t a trace of elation in his eyes at being liberated, but she understood why. Rhys would finally be returning home, but as a much different man than the one he had been. He’d survived, but not unscathed, and he’d need time to process this.

Feyre came to him, reached towards her mate with the hand that bore his mother’s ring. Rhys looked to it, then up to her. His eyes were clouded with sorrow, with a melancholy she could only hope to chip away at in time. But she could see stirring beneath it was a breath of hope, perhaps the first he’d allowed himself in a long time.

“Let’s go home, Rhys,” she said gently.

Slowly, Rhysand nodded, moving to grasp her hand. She felt him jolt at the touch and, as she glanced at him questioningly, she saw his lips part in wonder.

I suppose you weren’t lying about being my mate, he whispered, the words a sensual brush in her mind. Thank you for coming to rescue me, High Lady.

Feyre grasped onto Azriel, and together the three of them stepped into darkness.

Then, they were above the House of Wind, tumbling through the night sky. Feyre unfurled her wings before Rhys could move to catch them, worried that her mate would struggle after 50 years without flight.

Both males stared in astonishment at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes danced in awe as Feyre, albeit clumsily, carried them to the training ring on the roof.

Rhys snapped his own wings open as they landed. Feyre watched him tilt his head back in rapture as he felt the wind against his wings for the first time in decades. Then he opened his eyes, his expression shifting to reverence as he beheld the night sky.

“I was beginning to think I’d never see it again,” he whispered, his voice a heartbreaking blend of exaltation and disbelief. “And for this gift… for my salvation to be courtesy of my mate and of my brother… I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted sheepishly.

Feyre hesitated. If this was the Rhysand from before, the one to which she was mated and married, she would come to comfort him. But this version of Rhys had only just been freed from enslavement, and she didn’t know what he needed.

As though sensing her hesitation, Rhys cast his eyes back to the sky. “I know they’re all waiting for me downstairs, but I’d like a little bit of time with the stars. Will you let them know, Az?”

Azriel nodded, though he seemed conflicted. His reunion with his brother was perhaps not as merry as the male had expected. But right now, she knew the Inner Circle would hardly deny Rhys anything. Perhaps for a long while yet. So Azriel headed downstairs to inform their friends, who were sure to be anxiously awaiting their arrival.

Rhysand regarded Feyre carefully once the two of them were alone. “Mate and High Lady,” he mused. “You seem to wear many hats.”

“You forgot ‘wife’,” Feyre said lightly.

“Yes, and ‘Salvation’, ‘Queen Killer’, ‘Most Beautiful Female in Prythian’, it seems there’s many things I could call you. Could we start with your name, perchance?”

Feyre was shocked. She’d assumed he’d taken such information out of her mind earlier, but it seems he’d been even more respectful than she’d expected.

“Feyre,” she answered. “My name is Feyre.”

He looked wonderstruck. “Feyre,” he repeated, testing the name on his lips. A gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth, the first she’d seen from him yet. He extended his hand towards her. “Would you like to watch the stars with me, Feyre?”

It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Her hand found his with all the casual grace of a dancer, as if it were a routine they’d been perfecting their whole lives. Their fingers interlocked and as one, they stared up at the dazzling night sky.

This reality wasn’t perfect, Feyre thought. This Rhys was different from her own, and he still had a lot of healing to do. But if she could be there for him, to help him in a ways she hadn’t before, then she would be grateful to the strange eddies of the Cauldron for bringing her here. For allowing her to end his torment early. For giving them this extra time.

She watched a shooting star dart across the sky and smiled as it passed. There was nothing she could wish for except that her mate find peace in all that he’d endured the last half century.

His deep, velvety voice cut through the silence. “Do you often wish on stars, Feyre?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a heart-wrenching wistfulness.

“Only when I have a wish worthy of the stars.”

“And do you?”

Feyre looked to the northernmost star, which shined brightest in the sky. “I wished for a light in the darkness,” she told him. “I don’t think the stars would ever begrudge such a wish.”

Rhysand nodded solemnly. “It’s true that they would be begrudging themselves in doing so. But I see no need for you to wish for such a thing.”

Feyre looked to him. He was still watching her, but something in him had shifted. He was smiling at her gently, that lingering sadness already receding. “Why’s that?” she asked cautiously.

That gentle smile widened, showing off his brilliant teeth. “Why, Feyre, to find such a thing, all you’d need to do is look in a mirror.”

#prompt fill #anon request #Feysand #Feysand fic #Inner Circle #Feysand fluff because I can't help myself #mentions of rape #Mentions of SA #acotar #acotar fic #time travel

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loaffofbred · 3 years

Text

SPOILERS FOR WTIT :

Foreshadowing of Logan's Outburst or Snap and Indications of Future Problems

After rewatching some of the Sanders Sides past episodes, it seems very clear that Logan's outburst is fairly unsurprising. But, there may be some other foreshadowing thats taking place other than his outburst, and maybe his future dilemma's maybe indicated as well.

One example i saw is his question in the musical number of the puppet episode, where Patton explains his repression of emotion, and Logan seemingly asking if it worked in some way. And almost seemingly shocked by Patton's answer.

It almost seems like he was trying to find the answer to his own problem. He's repeated before that he has NO feelings or emotions, and that he has no care of sentiments. He's in denial of his emotions and Patton's situation seem to fascinate him because he seems to have the same problem. Almost like the more he ignores his emotions, the more he believes they disappear altogether, like what Patton said. The answer seemed to shocked him either because of Patton learning and applying the lesson he learned, or because he had a similar problem and shocked by an unexpected answer. This feels like a foreshadow to Logan's problem, and this is not the only example of that. All instances of Logan denying his emotions are just further evidence that thats his problem. His acceptance of his emotions. This is me not doing too much research here, so bear with me if theres a way to debunk it.

Of course this isnt a surprise to some, but this is a foreshadow to his outburst. The further you fill this jar of emotions, the closer it is to bursting into a field of emotions and outbursts. I think maybe the future episode might tackle that problem. Denial is a form of deception, you cant have deception WITHOUT denial in some capacity. You can tell that Janus in some way knows Logan's dilemma, he is deceit after all, he knows that Logan has a tendency to deny his own emotions. Even the other sides seem to know this as well. Logan always clarifies he has no emotions and this further feeds deceit.

Janus and Remus' push comes to shove

This can also explain why Janus and Remus push Logan to a different level than all the other sides. An example of this is the newest asides video(WTIT) and both SvS and SvS redux. Why are there methods of pushing Logan away different from the other sides? Well, lets first see how the other sides do this. First, the other sides never do this intentionally or in a malicious way. They explain Logan why his point of view doesnt particularly matter, and that their argument is more feasible. They dont FORCE Logan aside, they just dont put the effort to listen and comprehend his input. Example of this is the end card of WTIT, Patton choosing to ignore Logan's input on SvS Redux, and Thomas, Patton, and Roman almost ignoring and nonchalantly putting aside his wants in the Moving On episode. They dont force Logan away, they just dont give value to his input enough for him to feel worthy.

Remus and Janus' way is through FORCE. Theyre upfront and malicious with their tactics. Remus blatantly targeting Logan specifically on the introductory episode of him. Janus disguising himself, two times, as Logan to remove him from the equation. They both force Logan down, to try and bring themselves up. I dont particularly know why theyre pushing Logan to his limits. Either an entry for the Orange side?

But this is whats weird. Janus is responsible to who or which side can be seen. Hes responsible on who is hidden away from Thomas, and who isnt. Thats why in Remus' song mentions this;

Recently a snake offered me a morsel from the tree of knowledge

He said "you're wanting to be more honest

And be direct dealing with your issues

No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you"

(a certain thing i suddenly realize is that the 'tree of knowledge' is referenced in WTIT. The last end shot where it pans to Logan and the roots of the tree to Janus. Just a small thing i realized :) )

So why does the orange side need 'influence'? Yes, Thomas has a say on what he wants to see and what he doesnt, but what about Remus? In a way its far more fitting for him to just barge in rather than have permission to show up. But if we were to assume Orange as rage or a form of it, why does he NEED influence (assuming he does) to truly be seen? A question that im hoping will get answered in future episodes.

Janus' power and deniability

Janus has more power than we think. He can shut the sides up about a certain side in order for Thomas to be unaware. So maybe, in the end card, Janus is hinting for the Orange Side to finally being seen because of his help. His power stems from something but what?

Have you noticed something in common with all of the dark sides introductory episodes? They all speak about DENIAL. Denial of Thomas' capacity to deceit and the denial of imagination having an 'evil form' of it. His denial is what keeps the dark sides at bay, and what keeps him from knowing about the other sides. I think thats the main reason why Janus has the power to show Thomas the other sides, because denial is a form of deceit, and Janus has power over that.

And who else has a BIG problem with deniability? Logan. Logan denies that his emotions even exist in the first place. One example of denial being a big part is this line that really stuck with me,

No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you

Janus is speaking to Remus yes, but this also resonates with Logan and Thomas. 'Deceiving yourself' is lying to yourself, denying the existence of bad within you. Remus KNOWS that Logan is lying to himself, because it seems like Remus had the same experience with how Janus told this to him specifically. He knows Logan's problems and the whole "Now youre speakin' my language" makes even more sense. He saw Logans truth. His ugliness within him.

Another line also stuck with me is this;

Why deny yourself knowledge

Say knowledge of yourself?

You don't need to feel ashamed with your dear old Duke

You need not feign decency

This also seems so targeted to Logan. He feigns that he has no emotions therefore has no flawed and hurtful emotions that can target Thomas. He feigns decency. Also! 'Why deny yourself knowledge, say knowledge of yourself?' seems to resonate with Logan as well. Im not saying these lyrics are TARGETED SPECIFICALLY towards Logan, but resonate instead.

Logan's deniability of emotions

Think about it, denial is the reason why dark sides are hidden. And Logan denies his emotions. Connect the dots and its understandable why some people believe Logan to be either hiding something about the Orange side, or him being the Orange side in general.

Few mentions

Another targeted insult (while not surprising coming from Remus) also acknowledges Logan's problem,

He knows his problems, and this is where Logan denies this entirely

Which seems like a lie to me, but nonetheless

Remus pushes the take that he has an effect on Logan

Logan also denying this entirely

Even though, that is the exact OPPOSITE of what happened to him with Remus on the latest sanders asides.

TLDR; Logans denial of his emotions is a big problem that may be addressed in future episodes. Denial is a big part of the dark sides anonymity and Thomas' deniability is the very reason for hidden dark sides.

Both Remus and Janus push Logan for either an entry way for Orange, but still skeptical because of Janus having the power to make dark sides be seen based on his control of deniability, so why put the effort?

Logan's connection to denial maybe a more reason why he seems to be the only side that explicitly shows anger to the point of physical pain towards others or other outbursts. Deniability and the dark sides having a connection seems to further push the theory of Logan showing his true colors or self. Of course that theory has many flaws in of itself, i think Logan's denial has a big part as to why he showed orange eyes

Remus affects Logan in quite different ways compared to Virgil and Patton

anyways, this has been long enough, i hope this was understandable, and as always

THIS IS ALL THEORIES,

do not take them as truth or fact, but rather speculation

anyway, peacee

#sanders sides #sanders sides theory #orange side #ts logan #ts remus #ts janus #ts orange side #thomas sanders #ts spoilers

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haikwritings · 4 years

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hii can you write what is the haikyuu boys types? like what type of person theyd fall for (tendou,kenma,iwaizumi,asahi)<33

Note: Hi girlie! Thanks for the request! 🥺❤️

Haikyuu boys falling in love

Satori Tendō

“All those girls are looking at you.” Yamagata said.

Tendō looked around and saw the group of girls looking at him.

“Why don’t you talk to them?” Yamagata asked.

He stared at them but he wasn't interested.

“Not interested.” Tendō answered jokingly.

“Why is that?” Shirabu asked confused.

“No reason.” Tendō tried to brush off while walking away.

The truth was, Tendō was interested in another girl, to be more specific — he was interested in one of his classmates.

“I- I— if he doesn’t want them, can I take them?” Shirabu asked in disbelief.

“Shut up.” Semi said annoyed.

Tendō started walking towards one of the classrooms. He knew she would be there, she always tutored in those hours.

‘She’s here’ Tendō thought.

He kept looking at her from afar, wondering how to talk to her normally.

“You’re here again.” Ushijima said bluntly making Tendō jump.

Tendō looked at him and smiled.

“Are you watching her again?” Ushijima asked.

Tendō looked at him and nodded.

“Why do you like her?” Ushijima asked curiously.

It was a very good question.

What did she had?

“She doesn’t treat me like a monster.” Tendō said.

“Monster?” Ushijima asked confused.

“She doesn’t treat me like I’m odd.” Tendō explained.

Ushijima looked at him and smiled a little.

“S-She’s kind hearted.” Tendō said.

Both of them kept looking at her, she was alone in her desk.

“Maybe you should talk to her.” Ushijima suggested.

Tendō kept looking at her.

He just was just too scared.

“I will wait.” Tendō said.

Kenma Kozume

“That girl is looking at you.” Kuroo said.

Kenma looked at the girl and rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on.” Kuroo said in disbelief.

He always wondered why his best friend haven’t had a girl on his mind.

“She is even winking at you.” Kuroo said.

Kenma looked at him sighed.

“I- I’m interested in another girl...” Kenma said while looking at his video game.

Kuroo gasped surprisedly.

“Who?!” Kuroo asked curiously.

“Is Y/n.” Kenma answered.

Kuroo looked at him very surprised.

“Her? But she’s completely different from you.” Kuroo said.

Kenma sighed.

That was the thing, she was completely different.

He just liked it that way.

“She represents joy.” Kenma answered.

“Joy?” Kuroo asked.

“S- She always laughing, being the party soul.” Kenma said.

“I see.” Kuroo said.

“She is joyful.” Kenma answered.

Hajime Iwaizumi

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa said.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked annoyed.

“Who are you taking to the dance?” Oikawa asked curiously.

“I- I— haven’t invited her.” Iwaizumi stutter.

“So, you’re taking someone huh?” Oikawa asked flirtatiously.

“Well, if she says yes, idiot.” Iwaizumi said.

“Iwa-chan, dont be so rude!” Oikawa yelled.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes in response. He wanted to ask his crush to the dance.

“So, who’s the lucky one?” Oikawa asked curiously.

Iwaizumi smiled just thinking about her.

“A classmate.” Iwaizumi answered sweetly.

“A classmate? Who is she?” Oikawa asked curiously.

Iwaizumi sighed again. He didn’t like talking about his personal life— but if it was about her though...

“S-She doesn’t talk much.” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa looked at him and smirked.

“S-She’s mysterious. She is really smart.” Iwaizumi said while blushing.

Oikawa looked at him sighed happily.

“Good for you.” Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi looked at him and laugh.

“What fan are you taking out?” Iwaizumi asked sarcastically.

Asahi Azumane

“Look at him.” Sugawara said as he saw Asahi talking to Y/n.

“Who’s that?” Daichi asked confused.

“That’s Nishinoya’s bestie.” Sugawara answered.

‘Oh’ Daichi thought.

“T-The fearless one?” Daichi asked.

“Yep.” Sugawara answered.

“The hyper one?” Daichi asked.

“Yep, the one and only.” Sugawara answered.

They couldn’t believe Asahi liked a complete opposite of himself.

“They have liked each other for a time.” Sugawara said.

“Why does he like her?” Daichi asked curiously.

“Because she’s strong.” Sugawara answered.

Daichi looked at him confused.

“H- He like how she’s brave.” Sugawara said.

“Brave?” Daichi asked confused.

“That’s what he said.” Sugawara answered.

“Oh.” Daichi answered.

Both of them continued looking at Asahi who was a blushing mess around her.

“S- So um...” Asahi muttered.

Y/n looked at him and smiled.

“Do you want to go out?” Y/n asked smiling, making him blush more.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu tendo #tendou x you #tendou x y/n #tendou x reader #haikyuu kenma #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x y/n #haikyuu asahi #asahi x you #asahi x reader #asahi x y/n

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low-budget-korra · 3 years

Text

Lets talk about Korra (again)

i already made this analysis, and it was well received but i dont know, i wanna do it again. Why not right? My english is better now than was when i made that analysis so i think this one will be better written

What a way to introduce a protagonist. This line and this scene tell us everything we need to know about Korra at that time and everything she knew about herself.

In book one Korra is a 17′s old teenager who have no idea how the world, how life is outside the training center she grew up in and had been locked up since ever. So she is not only naive but have lack of social skills

Oh, and not everyone who lack’s social skills will act like Zuko and Azula okay? Korra can be confident, expressive and outgoing and still have problems when it comes to social skills.One thing dont exclude the other.

“I’m the Avatar and you gotta deal with it” did you guys notice that only for that line we can see the entire opposite on how she treat her role as avatar in comparisson with Aang? And im not here to judge because is two very different contexts.

As far as we know, Korra grew up without friends or romantic partners. Of course, she had her training partners but i believe that they are just that.

So her entarely perception of herself was around her duty as Avatar, she didnt have personal life, she barely was Korra...She was The avatar and thats that.

So she came to Republic City, it was a mess.

Its funny to see that she have no touch when it comes to simply talk to people, i guess when you grew up away from society, this happens. And yes, she is cocky and had to learn that people arent there to somewhat please her, and she learned that quicky.

Thats why the Pro Bending was important for her character, not only for training but also as means of socilization.

Now lets talk about the villains: Amon and Tarrlok

The two of them represents two differents threats to Korra. Amon represents a threat to her duty as Avatar while Tarrlok represents a threat to Korra as a person.

In episode 4 we have what i still thinks is the darker episode from TLOK. In this episode Amon ambushes Korra in the final moments... Even knowing that they did their best to make Amon’s power and control be non-sexualized as possible still...He have her down on her knews, totally helpless and he even invades Korra’s personal space by touching in her face forcing her to look at him. He didn't have to sexually touch her to violate her.

And right after, the fear in Tenzin voice when asking what happened after seeing her laying in the ground like that, and how Korra is sobing in his arms teeling him how powerless and helpless she felt. I mean...Oh, and she keeps terryfied by him until he takes her bending.

Tarrlok in the other hand doesnt do much different from his brother and started to harass Korra because he cant take ‘no’ as a answer when Korra didnt wanted to join his task force.

Whats interesting is that if it wasnt for Tarrlok harassement and maniputation, Korra wouldnt have joined his task force and wouldnt have confronted Amon and wouldn't have gone through that terrible encounter.

The thing is that Korra is caught right in the middle of a politcal power dispute over the city, something that she for sure wasnt prepare for it. And both Amon and Tarrlok woud hurt or kill her without think twice about it if that means gain power. And that was exacly what happened

Tarrlok tried to manipulate her and keep her on leash where he could, and when his tatics didnt worked anymore he alreay had a plan B. Yes that whole metal box in that cabin in the middle of nowhere was made especifically for her and maybe Tenzin if he also get in his way.

In the end Korra lost the physical battle against both but won the ethical battle also against both. She was the responsable for expose both of them as corrupted and hypocrites. But at what price? Amon was able to remove the bends of the Avatar. And without them, how could she be the Avatar?

Remember that her entirely conception of herself was built around her duty as Avatar, be the avatar. After all, everything she was, everything she'd trained so hard for, had been destroyed in minutes. Thats why i still strongly believe that she was thinking about killing herself at the end, nobodys goes all sad and crying to in front of a clifft without thinking about jumping from it.

But she, i think given up the idea and just sit and started to crying when Aang appeared and help her, giving her bendings back in one of the best scenes of the show. So after have everything solve and still managed to get the boy she was in love with, things where great and she “move on”

In that first half, Korra is unbearable. Everything she learned in Book 1 how to be more mature, less spoiled and all, was thrown in the trash and she was the same "child" of the book one only worse.

Until I stopped and realized that I was also unbearable and childish like this when I had my bad phases of anxiety and depression, as defense mechanism and keep people away. Returning to Korra, and if this way of acting of her was nothing more than this defense mechanism?

Because guess what, i dont think she “move on” from all that happened in Book One that fast, and for add more drama she discovered that was her father idea of keeping her locked up training in that training center we saw in book one and not traveling like avatars before her. No wonder she felt betrayed. And for adding even more drama, people still keep treating her like child, so she was despered for some validation. Something that she found in her uncles arms but she was betrayed by him after.

In the end, Korra again goes through a traumatic experience when she has her connection with past lives destroyed. We see how it affected her when she apologizes to Tenzin, through tears. And Tenzin, as the excellent master he is, tries to motivate her to face Vaatu again (now merged with Unalaq, her uncle) and again she saves the day even after go throught a traumatic event

In the final moments, we see the innocent decision to reconnect the world of spirits and the world of men. And we also see Korra and Mako permanently end their turbulent relationship.

Book 3 begins in a more mature, we see all the characters being presented in a more mature way and it seems that Korra now has overcome everything that has passed. We have the relationship between Korra and Asami deepening as well

In Book 3, called "Change" we have a great sacrifice from Korra. Her life goes down a notch when she decides to save the new airbenders from Zaheer and the Red Lotus, the only villain until now that really threat her life since their sole goal was to kill the avatar.

Korra won again but this time victory costed way too much. Yes she save the day again but now she was physically and psychologically defeated. It was too much, she broke.

Book 4 begins and we only saw Korra in the final minutes and she is unrecognizable. We see that, once proud and courageous avatar, in someone depressed and cowerd. We never have saw Korra like that, even when she was afraid of Amon she wasnt like that.

Korra is afraid of being the Avatar again and her fight against PTSD is still one of the most sensitive, responsable and honest representation of Mentall Issues that i saw, and it was before this subject gain more space on media. It was before people started to give attention to this

I also think that she was having flashs from her other fights and not only the one against Zaheer.

Another thing I think is worth mention is that Korra took 3 years to feel safer and re-embrace her duties as Avatar. It was not 3 weeks or 3 months, it was 3 years. And anyone who suffers from some mental illness knows very well the stigma that is, the fight that is, because everyone wants you to be well faster as possible when the truth is that many times you spend years fighting against this. And this is a pressure that falls on you.Imagine, seeing all your friends moving forward while you continue "stock in the same place"?

Only after Korra confronts Zaheer, I think that was a way to show her coping with the trauma, she improves to the point of returning to be the great Avatar we know. I personally still struggles with this scene because put the victim in front of her agressor may not be the best idea but i understand that she needed to see that he was just a man and not the invencible monster her mind was telling her

One of the lines that stuck with me the most was in the TLOK version of the ember island players, the one that made a recap of the show before the finale. When Korra said “I was so naive” just before we watch her narration of her journey, we can feel pain, sadness and strenght. Janet was amazing in the way the delivered this line.

And this fucking quote i saw here on tumblr still is the goat: “The Last Airbender is a story of a boy who becomes a god. The Legend of Korra is the story of a goddess who becomes a girl "

And I still get really pissed when someone comes to talk shit about Korra because she is such an incredible heroine and her journey is also so incredible.

The story of how life can be hard and unfair, how it can hurt and paralyze, but there is always a reason to move on. We should always move on.

Korra is definitely not weak, quite the opposite, she is one of the if not the strongest heroine I have ever seen. Korra inspires overcoming

#korrasami #avatar korra #asami sato #mako #tenzin #bolin #lin beifong #su beifong #kuvira #zaheer #amon #unalaq #tarrlok #the legendd of korra #legend of korra #tlok #lets talk about #avatar

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g-on-ef · 3 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you're still a fan of Helluva Boss and what you thought of the latest episode?

@megashadowdragon asked: have you watched helluva boss episode 6 which came out today ( if you were unaware) what are your thoughts

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It warms my heart to know you guys ask for my opinion ^^ now let's get down to business

WARNING THIS REVIEW WILL BE A NEGATIVE ONE WIT A HINT OF POSITIVITY THESE ARE MY THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS ON THE EPISODE YOU DONT HAVE TO AGREE WIT THEM BUT DONT WASTE MY TIME WIT YOUR NEED TO ATTACK ME FOR HAVING THOUGHTS OF MY OWN YOU HAVE BEEN WARN

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

To answer both questions yes I still watch Helluva Boss however after their latest episode I think I will just stick to writing fanfiction about Blitz and Striker as well as stick to whatever content the fandom creates.

This episode if Imma be honest with you guys was not worth the wait, hell I was literally tempted to leave the episode as it just didn’t have my attention as the others.

The episode had some decent moments where I was chuckling a little but other than that I wasn’t that into it, to be honest the bad out weigh the good.

Also I wanna add that a while ago I wrote how Vivzipop and her crew did not know how to handle complex characters or complex scenes and I was right, this show and their crew do not know how to handle mature topics without reducing them into a joke but we are getting ahead of ourselves so let’s start with the pros, the cons, and everything in between.

Let’s start of with the pros,

Loona knowing when Blitz was being serious was a nice touch, it showed that even if Loona acts like she doesn’t care about Blitz she actually pays attention to him and knows when he is being serious and when he is joking around.

Moxxie was the true MVP his interaction with the agents had me smiling as well enjoying his moments.

Blitz protecting Moxxie

STRIKER !!!! I am a simp for this imp and I’ll take whatever crumbs I can get to see him ^^

Verosika, Fitzorallia, love them, love them

And that’s it...to be honest that’s it...like other than that that’s basically all that I like from that episode...

Now let’s get into the rest of this episode...

Okay was anyone other than me confused as to why they decided now was a good time to introduce the agents so late in the game?

Like at this point I am convinced that Vivizie and her crew are just winging it.

The agents were literally thrown in the show and it felt outta the blue, like I said it feels like Vivizie and her crew don’t know what they are doing and are just throwing things together like they could’ve given us hints that the agents were watching them, or give us a hint that they were being spied on, it didn’t even have to be big it could have just been small.

An example would be from my favorite book series Cirque Du Freak, in the first book Mr. Crepsely (a main character in the book) mentions something small that will become huge in later books, it was small but allowed the reader to be curious it gave the reader that something big was coming and we should be prepared.

Like I said it was a small hint but I left me curious and wanting to read more to find out more about what is going on.

Helluva boss didn’t do that it just threw this new idea and new characters without giving the others to grow.

If they gave us a hint that they were being watched it wouldn’t have felt like that idea came outta nowhere.

Also was I the only one that was uncomfortable with the way Blitz kept making jokes about the agent’s dead mom? I’m sorry but that was just wrong on soooo many levels.

Also with the truth serum thing...why did they use it if they weren’t even gonna get answers like again this came outta nowhere because the truth serum was supposed to make them speak the truth not look like they were tripping on acid. On less I missed something please let me now if I did.

Also to be honest the whole confession thing was once again treated like a joke, especially when Blitz asked Moxxie why he let Millie peg him, ummm...an emotional scene like that shouldn’t have jokes of any kind surrounding it, especially when it was supposed to be a heartfull moment.

Now Blitz ... okay Blitz and his vision was a little decent but I also didn’t like it. A lot of people had their speculation especially with the Stolas scene but the more I look at it the more I see it as a bittersweet moment.

Revealing that he was afraid of intamacy wasn’t that big of a surprised since we already knew that like it was nice for conformation.

Okay now onto the Sto*itz moment in the song ... like I said this was bittersweet moment,

People interpet the scene as how Blitz is afraid to love Stolas others saw it as Blitz was still chained to Stolas and would only be free if he and Stolas talk it out and another mentioned how he was forever chained to Stolas and how toxic the relationship between the two is.

Honestly I viewed it as how Blitz will be forever trapped in situations like this were he is to afraid to love someone or love himself and unless he comes to terms with his own demons he’ll forever be trapped in an endless cycle of pain and misery.

Now onto why I think that that Vivizie and her crew can’t handle mature themes.

Two characters have just had a revelation about their relationship with one another and instead of being honest with each other it gets turned into a joke...again...

Moxxie told Blitz what he felt and Blitz told him he treats him like shit cause its tough love...da freak ??? You just had a moment where you realized you pushed everyone away because you were afraid to be alone so you rather push everyone away so you have an excuse to let them leave and instead of admitting to that you just tell Moxxie it was all tough love.

Not to mentioned that you’re giving compliments and than tell him your done because your out of compliments...again you had a huge revelation and instead of giving the characters time to digest what they went through you just toss it to the side.

Another thing that pissed me off was how right after a huge moment you throw in a fight scene...I...why...just why ???

You had an emotional scene (that had no build up) but than throw it to the side for a fight scene that shouldn’t have been added at all.

Like the minute Millie and Loona saved them they should’ve opened up a portal and take them away not waste time on fighting only for them to get caught in the end.

Like I literally feel like they wasted all that time on animation than on writing and planning what they wanted from this.

Like again they had an emotional connection/scene and threw it to the side for some fight scenes which was a disappointment because had Loona and Millie saved them and take them home Blitz could’ve had some major character development and the four of them could have a heartfelt scene admitting everything that bothers them and help them get closer.

Nope, they decided to just throw a fight scene why I don’t know but it bothers me how they just tossed an emotional scene for some action scenes.

So yeah I am not happy with how that was handle at all.

Let’s also get to the Loona and Millie scenes...Millie crying for Moxxie once again made no sense as we never seen Millie care for Moxxie, hell she cares more for Blitz than Moxxie which is fucked up.

Hell when Moxxie was being critizied by her parents she didn’t do much to defend him hell Sally Mae was more honest with him than Millie.

Honestly Millie feels like she is being written by twenty different people who don’t know what they want from her.

And Loona, Loona could seriously be written outta the episode and nothing would changed.

Also they truly refused to let their characters grow seriously Moxxie was still treated like shit by Blitz in the end so yeah no character growth at all.

And now onto the last scene with Stolas and Blitz ... holy shit man Imma be honest with you guys Stolas asking for sex after saving them feels fucked up, to me it felt like the only reasons he saved the imps is so that he doesn’t get in trouble and for Blitz to reward him for saving them.

Again they could’ve had Stolas saving them and they could have had a heart to heart moment nope we had to toss all that emotional build up (if one can call it that) and toss it to the side for cheap jokes and a horny owl.

needless to say I was beyond disappointed with this episode and with the way they handle the “saddest” scene in the episode I am scared to see how they will handle the other scenes.

AGAIN I honestly don’t see why this episode took so long and I feel like Vivzie and her crew are more focus on the animation than anything else which sucks because this show has so much potential and it is being thrown to the side for pretty designs and shipping moments.

Anywhore that’s my thought on this show let me know what you guys think ^^

~GoNEF out ^^

#answers asked #anonymous #Anon #megashadowdragon #helluva boss #helluva critical #anti stolas #anti stolitz

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biaoba · 3 years

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I am more then prepared to be wrong, but that anon is way to cocky. Here's why I am confident that we will have canon Eddie realizes he's confused by his feelings for Buck. The time Buck was hurt , in danger in 2 we had no outward Eddie being more upset then anyone else on the team. Then we FF to twice Eddie is in danger and we have huge difference in reaction from Buck vs team. Then you have the deep stare of Eddie and Buck. You have the intimacy even in the truck. Then comes the panic attacks after Buck brings him home. Panic attacks arent typical straight behavior to she's not the one. Especially wben they made it a point to remind us he doesn't panic. That's the behavior of someone who doesn't understand why she's not because honestly she really should have been.

So I think we will have Bucky hurt, Eddies different reaction mirroring how different from the firetruck he was. I would say hes the one sitting there in the hospital and he like accidentally kisses his hand and u see the confusion and then people come in and he tries to act normal.

I would bet the second half of the season. Maybe Buck moves in with Eddie and Christopher to recover. We see Eddie acting awkward. Buck trying to understand why. Taylor probably starting to notice that Buck always chooses ro hang with Eddie and Christopher then her. Maybe Buck remembers a gesture when he was out and finally pins Eddie for a answer.

And finally there is a reason that Taylor is still here not Anna. Anna was clearly in love with Eddie. I just dont think Taylor loves Buck. I think they both just fill a void. I actually hope she is reoccurring after just because she's a cool character and I hope to get a few lines "you 2 wouldn't be together if it weren't for me" lol. Thats important in representation also, normalizing the people's reactions to not opposite sex relationships.

Ok and one more lastly. The truth was if Eddie was a male, and Buck was a female character instead, and all this played oit the exact same way, you know that we would all be expecting them to get together and realize there feelings. I don't expect to even reallt have confusion from Buck when he realozes Eddie would go there. I think it will be like you lead and I will follow.

PURR SORRY ANON i know its been like two weeks listen

first of all TALK YOUR SHIT YASS!! second of all i urge you to start posting these on your own blog because me posting isn't gonna get them hype im sorry im no influencer... alternatively dm me if you wanna talk omg i have no one

You're soooo true about their differing reactions to the other getting hurt in that not only does eddie not wear his heart on his sleeve nearly as much as buck does, his reaction the last time he saw buck hurt... he definitely wasn't as emotionally invested and we NEED a parallel that shows how much his feelings have progressed by hurting buck this season. a lot. i want PROBLEMS.

We need taylor to stay yass bitch characters>>> i don't understand why everyone is so threatened by a girl who was introduced as a morally way shitty character like she's LITERALLY textually filling the void.

That last paragraph 😬 i'm tired of the 'if he was a girl' argument no matter how true it is... like i do not want to think about buck as female coded just because he's stepping in to raise another man's child like... idk i need a d*an w*nchester stan to write this rant for me like hmm something about that whole train of though is very sus but idk im cis.

But umm yass to the bi buck implication in your last 2 sentences like he is literally canonically bi idgaf. 'You lead i'll follow' is definitely such a great thesis for where i think the scripts will realistically take them.

#love youuuuuu #buddie #buddie ask #911 fox #9-1-1 #evan buckley #ask #anon #LONG POST

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howelljenkins · 4 years

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hey so i know non white percy is a pretty popular headcanon but i was wondering if it was still considered bad to hc him as a poc with green eyes as i know there has been a heap of people calling rick's depiction of other poc with coloured eyes as disrespectful (re: piper and hazel). i dont wanna hurt anyone by accidentally playing into a racist stereotype y'know? ^ Not my ask. Saw other people discussing it on a different blog. Thoughts?

I think that to answer this question one has to look at the context and intent behind the features of each character.

Hazel and Piper are young Black and indigenous women (and in this case, the fact that they are women shouldn’t be overlooked). There is a history of providing woc with otherworldly/white features in order to “exotify” them and make them more desirable/magical/etc, and this goes doubly for black women. If you consider the actual colors Riordan ascribes to their features, it’s not hard to see how their characters play into this pattern.

Piper’s eye color is literally impossible to have. I’ve seen people try to excuse Riordan by saying that she has hazel eyes (I’m not sure why they even try to excuse it since they obviously understand it’s wrong. Take note of how far people go to preserve the “unique” eye colors of nonwhite characters) but he very explicitly compares them to a “kaleidoscope”, constantly changing colors from brown to green to blue, etc.

This has given people the excuse to draw her with bright pink eyes. Before people became more vocal about how harmful her features are, you’d be hard-pressed to find a dark-eyed drawing of Piper. However, take one peek into her tag and you’d find droves of blue, green, and even pink-eyed Pipers. I’m not here to unfold the entire history of how brown eyes are viewed, but I trust you to use common sense and make your own conclusions about what might influence people to be so subconsciously averse to drawing her with brown eyes, especially when they are one of her canonical eye colors.

To my knowledge, none of the other children of Aphrodite are described this way. One could argue Silena, but we all know that Riordan just didn’t keep her character’s appearance consistent. Ask yourself why he would go out of his way to give an Indigenous woman those eyes. He does it to prove she’s the daughter of Aphrodite, the daughter of beauty. Ask yourself why her brown eyes aren’t enough for him, especially since he has never given any other character this feature.

Hazel, the daughter of a Black woman with no explicitly “exotic” features, is given orange hair and eyes. For Hazel, even the excuse of “she got them from her godly parent” (which is fundamentally flawed) doesn’t work as Hades is literally described as having dark eyes. Add this on to the fact that none of the other children of Hades have any of these features (the di Angelo’s have regular Italian features) and it makes you question why Hazel was specifically chosen to be the one to be described with coloring that is literally inhuman (when was the last time you saw someone with bright orange hair and eyes?). At best, her description is inconsistent with the rest of his writing. At worst, it is dehumanizing and plays into the fetishization of black women.

Now I ask you to look at the situation with a wider lens and realize that the only characters given these inhuman “magical” features are Piper and Hazel. The closest thing I can think of for comparison is Annabeth’s grey eyes, which are both realistic AND given to most (if not all) children of Athena, rather than singling out one child to show how “special” they are.

Now, take all of this and try to see if it applies to Percy. The biggest difference is that green eyes are a completely normal feature for humans to have. They may not be common for white people and POC, but they certainly aren’t unheard of. I can name 10 POC with green eyes that I know off the top of my head right now.

Also, we can’t overlook the role gender plays in this. The history behind the exotification of WOC is infinitely more damning than that of men. While this does often apply to male characters, it’s the unfortunate truth that it’s much more common with female characters.

Most importantly, I think we can’t look past the reason why we are so vehemently against giving Piper and Hazel these features. Intent plays a huge factor in this. As mentioned before, it’s clear both through Riordan’s writing and literary history that the intent behind features such as Hazel’s and Piper’s are to exotify them and show how “magical” they are. By doing so, there is a heavy implication that their natural features are not enough. There is no such intent with Percy. Since his race is never explicitly mentioned, we can conclude that Rick originally viewed Percy as white (who are unfortunately seen as the default). Add that onto the fact that green eyes aren’t unheard of in POC and you see that the implications behind Hazel’s and Piper’s features don’t apply to Percy’s. Also, his eyes don’t come out of nowhere (and they aren’t explained away with a cop-out “it comes from his godly parent”) as Sally herself is described as having sea-blue eyes.

While I see where the concern comes from, I personally think it’s unfounded. Of course, one could argue against me and their view could be just as valid as mine, but when I look at the history behind each character’s features (both Riordan’s personal history and the history of nonwhite characters in general), I find myself concluding that the two situations really aren’t that similar.

#hope this makes sense I kind of just started rambling #and had so much trouble posting this #had to paste my answer into a document and post it from another browser #also this is almost a thousand words im crying rn #answered #anonymous #percy jackson #hazel levesque #piper mclean #discourse #rr crit #*

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