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flemingsfreckles · 5 months ago

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Ol’ College Try (18+)

Synopsis: UCLA!Jessie x UCLA!reader You and Jessie finally have bedrooms no longer in a dorm room, meaning you finally have the chance to explore a new step in your physical relationship using a strap on.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), first time using a strap on smut, its a little awkward and clumsy, strap on (R Receiving), Oral sex (R receiving), little bit of frustration and embarrassment, language.

WC: 3.9k

A/N: Hi, I haven't posted smut in months, literally since July, I sort of fell out of the mood for writing it, I'm working on getting back into it but we'll see. I’ll also be honest, I finished writing this and couldn’t bear the idea of rereading it so I’m sure there’s errors, I apologize.

“You have to promise not to laugh when I turn around.” You rolled your eyes behind your girlfriend’s back at her sudden change from confident to less than, all due to some silicone and leather.

“I won’t babe, I promise, just come over here.”

“I feel like it looks weird.” You watch as Jessie swivels her head to peek at you over her shoulder. You had been watching the way her arms and back moved as she maneuvered.

“You can take it off if you’re not comfortable.” You reassure her from where you were laying on the bed, blanket pulled up around your chest, you were shirtless and had been okay until Jessie’s warmth had left as she moved off the bed, suddenly feeling chilly.

“No, I want to at least try, it’s just new and different. What’s that saying they have? ‘Give it the old college try?’”

You smile at your girlfriend “I think it’s technically ‘Ol’ not ‘old’ but yeah babe, it’s okay if you’re nervous, I am a bit.” You admit. You and Jessie have been dating since the third month of sophomore year at UCLA, now upperclassmen, you were able to move off campus and you each had your own apartments just a few minutes from each other. With the new living location came new bedrooms, bedrooms that weren’t shared with another student, bedrooms that didn’t have a lofted twin size bed, bedrooms that didn’t have paper thin walls.

You both had returned to school early for pre-season, her for soccer and you for cross country meaning when you weren’t at practice, your roommates weren’t home and the two of you had a lot of free time. No classes, assignments, projects, or other school responsibilities had started yet. Reveling in your reunion after spending the summer apart, you and Jessie had found yourselves making up for lost time, often in the sheets of each other's beds. Which led to you the other day texting Jessie, being too shy to ask in person, asking if she’d want to try using a strap on you. She had quickly agreed before telling you to send her what you wanted and she’d buy it.

You had been eager to try it, testing out new waters in your relationship. Jessie had giggled when you opened your front door for her this morning, she held a bag out to you with a silly grin. “I feel like everyone can tell what’s in the bag.” She said as you opened the top, peering in to look at the toy. You sweetly rolled your eyes at your girlfriend’s bashfulness, taking the bag from her hand.

It wasn’t long after she arrived that the two of you were in your bed, Jessie’s body weight holding you firmly to the mattress as she kissed you.

You kissed her back hard, enjoying the feeling of Jessie’s hands roaming your body while yours ran up and down her sides. The two of you made out, quickly losing your shirts, throwing back your head as Jessie’s lips came to rest on your neck.

“Don’t, I’ve got photos tomorrow.” You gently remind her as you start to feel her start to suck on the skin. A dejected noise falls from Jessie’s lips as she releases the suction, causing them to vibrate slightly against you. She moves on, kissing down your chest to give attention to your breasts. Your fingers tangle themselves in her hair, pulling gently, gaining a hum of appreciation from Jessie this time. The longer you make out the more impatient you get, starting to grind up into Jessie, trying to hint to her you were ready to move on.

Jessie finally climbs off of you and heads toward where you had placed the bag earlier on the chair in your room, beginning to mess around with the harness and toy, leading to now where she’s shyly peeking over her shoulder at you with the harness fastened around her waist and thighs.

When she finally turns around to face you, your eyes drop to her waist and your stomach clenches at the sight, your beautiful girlfriend and between her legs the bright blue toy. It somehow looked larger sitting against her body.

“Come ‘ere.” You wave her over, hoping to boost her confidence back up as you can see the way she avoids eye contact with you. She crawls onto the bed, waiting for a moment before moving over to you.. As she leans over the toy sticking out pokes you in the stomach. “Hey!” You quickly move your hand down to grab it, moving it away from jabbing into you.

“Oops sorry, I didn’t think about that, not used to having anything there.” She says, laughing slightly as she looks down to see your hand holding it. “Hand on let me just.” She says before pulling the toy to be flush against her stomach.

With the toy no longer separating you, she leans down, finally reconnecting your lips. She kisses you for a moment before letting her hand trail between your legs, her fingers moving the cloth of your panties to the side. You sigh as her fingers begin to work between your legs, collecting your arousal before coming to your clit to rub slow circles. She continues touching you, pulling small noises of appreciation and approval from you as her fingers work.

“Jessie, come on.” Whining into her ear and bucking your hips she finally gets the message and pulls her hand back.

“What, are you ready?” Jessie pulls away from your lips.

“Yeah, I guess.” You could feel a small pit of nerves growing in your stomach, you’d hadn’t done this before, you trusted Jessie, she wouldn’t intentionally hurt you or make you uncomfortable, but it was new to both of you. You make a quick movement to remove your underwear before tossing it to the side and putting your legs back on either side of Jessie.

Jessie sits back on her knees, hand falling to the base of the toy. Her other hand comes up to rest on your inner thigh, pushing it slightly outward, her eyes falling between your legs. A smile comes across her face and you have to look away for a second from her intense stare.

“Hand me that.” Jessie points to the bottle of lube sitting next to your head on the bedside table. You grab it, passing it to her and watching as she opens the bottle, pouring on the liquid. She brings her hand down to begin spreading it. “Oh, it’s kind of cold.” She looks at her hand for a moment, rubbing her fingers together before adding “and slimey.” The bottle gets returned to the side table and Jessie slides herself closer to you, the tip resting on your stomach.

“Just go slow.” You say, putting your hands around her shoulders and lacing your fingers together behind her head.

“I will.” She nods down at you before breaking eye contact to look down where her hips rested between your thighs. Jessie maneuvers and you feel the toy now sitting against your core. She moves it around again before looking up at you quickly then back down, adjusting her hips again causing the toy to move. You feel the tip of the toy bump against a place you definitely didn’t want it going. “Wait.” You push against Jessie’s chest and she looks up, nervously. “Um, higher up, that’s the wrong-”

“Oh my god.” Jessie immediately inches backwards from you. “I’m sorry.” You watch as she drops her head in embarrassment. “I know where it is with my fingers.” She mumbles to herself, her confidence slipping away more and more the longer she has the appendage on.

“Babe, it’s fine, here I’ll help.” You reach down to where the strap hung gently grasping just above where Jessie’s own hand was wrapped around the girth. You take the tip, letting it glide across your clit before beginning to move it downward slowly. “There.” You gently push the tip into yourself before removing your hand placing it onto Jessie’s shoulder. “Go ahead.” You say looking up at your girlfriend who still had a hint of fear in her eyes.

She gives you a small nod and you watch her body begin to move and you feel the pressure of her hips angling forward, the toy beginning to push inside. You can tell by her gaze that she's unsure of what she’s doing, watching you for approval. “Is this fine?”

“Yeah, I’m good, keep going babe.” You nod up at her. She gives you a quick smile before her concentration face returns, her eyebrows furrowed and her bottom lip being tightly bit between her teeth, her eyes wander to where the two of you are connected, still moving her hips towards you ever so slightly. You bite your lip, starting to feel a larger stretch as Jessie continues to push forward. It wasn’t painful, but there was a definite tightness as Jessie bottomed out.

It takes a moment but Jessie’s hips finally are flush to yours and you can feel the fabric of the harness against your legs. Lying there you try your best to relax your muscles, still feeling a little nervous and unfamiliar with what was happening. You're unsure of where to put your legs, did you leave them lying on the bed? Should you bend them, put them around her waist maybe?

“Does it hurt?”Jessie looks between where your hips touch and back up to your face.

“Not exactly, it's just bigger than your fingers.” Your eyes trail to her hands that lay on either side of your waist, Jessie had good fingers, long, thick, but nowhere near the girth of the toy.

“Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, maybe try pulling back a bit.” Your fingers dig into her shoulders, anticipating discomfort when she pulls back, only finding it to be not uncomfortable, just weird.

“Right, okay.” You watch, her face still contorted in confusion and concentration. She slowly shifts her hips backward again, just a small amount and the drag of the toy inside of you has you sighing, a noise that causes Jessie to freeze. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good babe, keep going.” You encourage her, giving her shoulder a squeeze, before letting your nails gently rake along the skin of her back. She pushed back in the small amount she had pulled out before pushing back in again.

Jessie slowly pulls back again, this time she drops her head, watching the toy slide out of you. You can see her eyes widen in amazement as she watches.

“Like what you see?” Bringing your hand to her chin you gently pull her face up to watch as she blushes.

“Yeah, it’s good, it’s hot.” She says looking up at you. Jessie gets lost looking at you for a moment, her hips stalling for a bit before she picks up her motion again.

“You can try going faster, or maybe harder?” You’re not fully sure what’s going to feel good. Jessie nods, her curls bouncing in front of her face. Her face is trying to mask a level of uncertainty. “Don’t be so nervous babe, it’s just me.” You bring a hand up to her rosy cheeks, hoping the gentle touch of your fingers will reassure her again.

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” The sincerity in Jessie's voice is cute you think, she was really worried about hurting you more than anything. You also knew her concerns would likely prevent her from fully letting herself go, it would take some time and practice.

“You won’t, fuck me like you mean it.”

Her eyes widen at your vulgar ask before a small smirk comes across her face as she looks at you. She drops to her forearms, her chest meeting yours as she ruts harder into you. Her strokes become firm, a loud noise of her hips meeting yours fills the room for a second before you start hearing Jessie’s ragged breathing in your ear.

“Oh, fuck Jess.” Your words spur her on, she pushes herself up again, thrusting faster, using the full length of the toy.

You get lost in the sensation, letting small moans of pleasure fall from your mouth. Muffling your moans Jessie kisses you hard as she continues to speed up her movements. Her trusts are a bit uncoordinated, a hard one, followed by some quick ones, she’d then slow down, then some shallow, some deep. It wasn’t bad by any means, just unpredictable.

You feel Jessie pull slightly too far out, the tip falling toward the bed but notice she thrusts her hips forward. You bring a hand to her waist giving her a gentle push “Hang on, you slipped out.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine.”

“I’m not good at this.” You watch as she starts to frown, the little bit of confidence she had gained a moment ago dwindling.

“It’s the first time Jess, it’s okay.” Your fingers draw lazy circles across her back, feeling goosebumps arise on her skin.

“Does it even feel good?”

“I mean,” you hesitate, not knowing how to exactly answer. Before you can clarify why you hesitated, Jessie talks.

“I’m sorry.”

“No baby it’s not you. I think I’m nervous, and it’s just something new, and it feels good but not in the mind blowing orgasm way,” you pause looking up at Jessie, you didn’t want to take a hit to her ego. “It’s good though, just like you being inside of me, it’s nice.” You blush as the words come from your mouth, having to break your gaze with Jessie.

“Okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yeah, for a bit maybe? But, can you add more lube please.”

Jessie gives you a smile and a nod, reaching onto the bedside table and adding the liquid onto the toy. When Jessie begins to move again she gently runs the head of the toy across your core, letting it bump against your clit, causing your breath to hitch. You feel the tip at your entrance again and you nod at Jessie when she looks up confirming she’s in the right spot.

There’s a different sensation when she pushes into you this time, you feel as though you’re filled again just how you should be, not even realizing how empty you felt before. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Good?” Jessie cocks an eyebrow at you, you can see the slight smirk across her face, pleased with the reaction you had from her movement.

“Mmmhm.” You hum up at her with a nod.

Jessie lowers her body onto yours, causing the strap to shift deeper inside of you, as the warmth from her chest comes to rest on yours. It feels close, intimate, her body covering yours, your legs wrapped around her back, her face tucked tightly into the nape of your neck. You can hear her heavy breathing as she picks up again thrusting into you. In this position her thrusts are slower but more even, less sporadic, she has more control.

As you go to wrap your arms around Jessie’s back, her hands find yours first. She takes both of her hands interlacing your fingers and bringing them up to rest by the sides of your head.

With each thrust into you Jessie gives your hands a gentle squeeze. It’s a simple gesture, holding hands with Jessie but in the context, it’s overwhelming. “I love you.” You hear her mumble against your skin before she places a kiss.

“I love you.”

After a couple thrusts, Jessie releases one of her hands from yours and brings it between your bodies, she fumbles around before her fingers find your clit and she begins rubbing circles in time with her thrusts. “Is this okay?”

You suck in a breath, the mixture of Jessie’s fingers and the feeling of being full is a new sensation, one your body is still trying to process. You focus on her fingers, fingers that knew your body well, they knew what you liked, what made you feel good and that's what they were doing, making you feel good. “That's good baby.”

Despite the added pleasure from Jessie’s fingertips, you can tell you won’t cum from this. Too in your head about the toy, the newness, the unfamiliar territory, it had you slightly on edge and not the edge you wanted to be on.

“Jess.” You say gently, you hoped telling her wasn’t going to make her feel inadequate.

“Yeah?” She picks her head up from your neck, you can see the small sheen of sweat on her forehead, her baby hairs stuck to it.

“This feels good, I promise, I just don’t think it’s going to, ya know, get me there.” You cringe as you say the words, worried about what her reaction might be.

“Oh.” Her expression is surprised for a moment before her face falls, appearing disappointed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, babe it’s not your fault.” Holding her head in your hands you caress her cheeks. You think about what to say. If you mention you don’t feel comfortable enough, she’d blame herself for that though, it had nothing to do with her but Jessie always put her performance, in school, on the field, or in bed, on herself, even if it wasn’t her fault. You had to choose your words carefully with her. “It’s not you I promise. It’s me, I’m just not, I think it’s just I’m not used to there being something inside, it’s good, just new and I’m not quite used to it enough.”

Jessie nods in your hands but doesn’t say anything. You pull her down bringing her ear to your mouth. “Baby, you always make me feel so good, this is no different, you can still make me cum without the strap, that’s even better when you think about it, you don’t need a toy, it’s all you Jess.” Releasing the hold on her, she sits back up, careful not to move the toy around too much while still inside of you. “You always make me feel good babe.” You groan out as Jessie moves to trail her tongue down the side of your neck.

“Should I pull out?” Jessie asks, looking down at her waist.

“Yeah go ahead.” You try and relax as she pulls her hips back, pulling until the toy falls out. You notice Jessie's attention being pulled down to where the toy was now. “Hey.” She looks back up at you with a small half smile. “It’s okay Jess.” You pull her by the chin, bringing her mouth to yours, the toy sticking into your stomach again as she tries to lean over to kiss you. She giggles as her hand again reaches to press the strap up against her abdomen.

The two of you kiss, her tongue gently running over yours, softly pulling on your bottom lip with her teeth, causing you to let out a deep moan. She kisses your cheek, down to your jaw and up to place a sloppy kiss just below your earlobe.

“Can I eat you out?” She whispers following it with a couple more kisses down your neck.

“Please baby.” Your voice comes out more needy and wanting than you expected. You can feel her smirk against your neck and she continues to kiss across your chest, teasing you ever so slightly, taking her time moving down your body.

“Come on Jess.” Your hands find their way to her shoulders and you gently push her down where she was already headed, between your legs. She gives in, letting you push her between your legs. As she goes to lay down, the toy catches on the bed, preventing her from being able to fully lay down.

“Fuck this.” Jessie says sitting up and scrambling off the bed to remove the harness. You laugh at your girlfriend’s frustration with the toy as she pulls and fiddles with the various straps, until the harness loosens and falls off her waist. “Not funny.” Jessie grumbles, placing the toy onto the nightstand.

She wastes no time climbing back between your legs, her hands picking up your thighs and bringing them over her shoulders. She brings her face to your core, her tongue beginning to lick long strokes, appreciating your taste and the feeling of having her mouth back on you. She hums into you. Giving you a few more long licks, Jessie begins to pay attention to your clit.

She gives it a few flicks, her tongue firm before a slow circle around the nerves, her eyes locked on yours intensely watching as you roll them back, enjoying the feeling of her. “You’re so good at that babe, fuck.” You watch as Jessie's eyes light up at the praise. She always liked being praised, being told she was pleasing you. You feel her increase her pressure, adding more suction with her lips, putting all of her focus onto your clit.

“God Jess.” Jessie moans into you in appreciation of your words. Your hand finds the top of her head, running your hand through her hair before gently scratching her scalp, knowing the action spurred her on. You feel yourself finding the edge that you had been looking for, feeling the tightness in your stomach growing, the tightening of your thighs, your muscles all tensing. Your hand holds Jessie's head tight to you, your other hand fists the bedsheet tightly as you peak. Your hips thrust against Jessie's tongue, you feel her hands try to hold your hips steady to let her keep pleasing you, a groan of her name falls from your lips followed by a whine, beginning to feel the sensitivity of your post orgasm. Your hips buck a few more times, trying to escape the now gentle stimulation that Jessie was giving you to work you through your orgasm.

The grip on your hips loosens and Jessie pulls her tongue away after giving you one final featherlight lick, looking all too proud of herself and cockly when she pulls up, resting her cheek on your inner thigh.

“What?” you say, knowing she was just proud of herself. She always was, Jessie would get so cocky watching you fall apart from her touch.

“Nothing, I just love you.”

“I love you, ya dork, come up here.” You motion for her to come kiss you and she does, resting her body weight onto you for a moment as you lips meet. You kiss for a bit before Jessie rolls off of you, lying beside you, draping an arm across your waist.

“Thank you for trying that with me.” You quickly glance at the strap that was still sitting, covered in lube and your slick, on the bedside table.

“I’ll try anything for you baby, I just want to make you feel good.” Jessie says as she leans up, planting a heavy kiss on your lips. “I think I just need more practice.”

“Well I’ll always be interested in practicing with you Jess.”

A/N pt 2: here’s part 2, tumblr is being a pain and not posting it under the tags

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader #woso smut

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florencemtrash · 8 months ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Five

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Physical injury (i.e., Rhys and Cassian recovering post-Koschei), fluff, mating ceremonyyyyyyyyy (y'all I'm so excited I got so emotional writing this one)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was strange how the absence of things could be so obvious. How silence could be more obnoxious than a crowded room.

Three weeks had passed since Koschei’s death, and everyone was afraid to bring attention to the glaring absence of Cassian’s arm and Rhysand’s wings.

At every meal, Nesta carefully cut up the Lord of Bloodshed’s food, and every night, Rhysand winnowed up to his bedroom. He no longer needed a wheelchair to move around, but walking up the stairs was a battle he won only half the time.

Azriel’s shadows were still missing. Gone to the wind. But their whispers grew in strength each day and Azriel would strain his ear to hear them. It gave you both hope that they’d return in time.

“Daddy.”

Rhysand froze halfway up the stairs, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles. He subtly hid his hand behind his back, concealing the cane he relied on to walk around his own home.

“Yes, Nyx.”

The boy stood with his mother, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Her wings were on full display, as were Nyx’s, in preparation for their daily flying lessons. For the first time, Rhysand would be unable to join them.

“We’re going flying. Do you… do you want to watch?” Nyx smiled shyly, one arm wrapped around his mother’s leg as he stared at the ground. “I can finally summon my wings during free fall. Just like we practiced.”

Rhysand strained to smile. “Go ahead with your mother. I’ll join you on the balcony soon.”

“Ok,” the boy murmured and walked down the hall towards his parents’ bedroom.

Feyre moved to be with her husband, her wings disappearing in a melting of light. She gently cupped his face in her hands.

“It’s ok, my love,” Rhysand whispered, kissing her palms. Feyre smoothed back the swoop of hair that fell over his forehead. The strands were damp with sweat. “I don’t want you to keep Nyx waiting.”

“Nyx is a patient boy. More patient than his father.”

Rhys chuckled, blinking away tears. It was silly to hide these emotions from Feyre — she felt everything he did — but he wanted to at least try to be strong. To be her equal. Her High Lord.

“Take your time, Rhys.” Her lips brushed against his and a piece of that ache in his chest fizzled out. It was incredible how his mate and wife could ease his burden with such a small touch. “I’ll be waiting with our son.”

The moment Feyre disappeared into their bedroom and shut the door, Rhysand snapped his cane in half. Wood splinters flew out, embedding themselves in the wall and in the staircase, and he threw what remained down the stairs.

Feyre, with all her love and patience, gave him the space to be angry. To grieve. But it helped her to know that Cassian, Azriel, and Emerie were already on their way.

Rhysand made it to the third floor landing without his cane before the pain in his back became impossible to ignore. He sank to the floor.

“Rhys—” The trio crowded around him.

“Don’t say a fucking word, Cass.” They froze beside him, tucking their wings in tight. “I used to think the steps to the House of Wind were hard. Now I can’t even climb the stairs in my own fucking house.”

He hated this. He hated this with a burning passion. He was meant to be High Lord. He should have been at Feyre’s side, shaking out his wings and getting ready to taste the wind with his son. Instead here he was, sweat-soaked and shaking in front of his brothers and Emerie.

After his mother and Selene’s death, he’d promised himself he would never lose his wings. They were a physical reminder of his Illyrian heritage. A heritage which so often went unseen beneath the veneer of a High Lord. Decades spent Under the Mountain had only cemented that promise in blood and salt.

Amarantha may have stolen many things from him, but she’d never taken his wings. She’d never touched them. She’d never even seen them.

Poison-laced calls of Amarantha’s whore and half-breed had always paled in comparison to the freedom of flying. A freedom he no longer had.

“I’m not an Illyrian anymore,” Rhysand whispered grimly. The muscles in his back rolled, and even that small movement sent a thread of pain down his spine.

Cassian and Azriel were stunned into silence. But not Emerie. Her gaze was too piercing, her tone too frank and unrelenting as she said, “My mother died without her wings.”

Rhysand looked up at the female, slender and sharp as a blade.

“At thirty-seven years old her father took a butcher’s knife and hacked them off before burying them in the snow just outside Windhaven.” She cocked her head to the side. “Tell me, was she not an Illyrian then?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhysand said pathetically.

“It’s exactly what you meant. But you’re wrong. Your wings don’t make you an Illyrian, Rhys. If they did, myself and over half the females in those camps would have been banished from Illyria a long time ago.”

There was a silence that followed, tense and filled with guilt until Emerie spoke again.

“Do you know what they say about you in the camps? And I’m not talking about the males who whisper half-breed behind your back.”

Rhysand took his head.

“The young females whisper about the day you’ll find them worthy enough to steal away to Velaris — to your precious city you’d never let come to harm. They talk about the shops they’d get to see with the frosted cakes in the windows and the enchanted houses where they wouldn’t have to slave away over a stove or wring towels until their hands bled. That one day, you’ll recognize that they’re dreamers too who’ve only had their worst nightmares come true. The older ones are wiser than that. They don’t talk about escaping to a city they don’t know and don’t love, surrounded by strangers who might call them lesser-fae. They build their lives in the cold, and when the males come to burn it down, they either endure and build it up again, or they fight back however they can.”

Emerie regarded him carefully, eyes halting on his violet eyes and the sharpness of his ears.

“Wings don’t make you an Illyrian,” she repeated, “It’s in your blood. It’s what you're born into and the hands that raise you. Never say “I’m not an Illyrian” again, do you understand me?”

Rhysand swallowed the burning lump in his throat. Touched the short tips of his ears and wiped the tears gathering in his violet eyes.

“Azriel, could you—could you bring me my cane? Please?”

His brother walked down the steps without hesitation and retrieved the broken halves.

It was a thing of beauty and strength, carved from ironwood and stained so dark it may as well have been sliced from a night sky. Rhysand put the two pieces together and closed his eyes.

It was easy, miniscule magic to put the cane back together and far more difficult a feat to stand upright once again. He might have toppled backwards if not for Emerie. She gave him her shoulder to lean against.

“Still an Illyrian,” he murmured.

It was a promise to himself and to his family. To the three Illyrian warriors who had found him.

“Still an Illyrian.” Emerie patted his arm. “I understand you’ll still feel some self-pity for a while. It’s natural, but… try not to do it in a room I’m in.”

“I can do that.” Rhysand leaned against his cane, limping towards his bedroom where his mate and son were waiting. “Oh and Emerie.” She turned her head towards him. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to just cut it for you?”

“No, I like the way Nesta does it.”

“Since when did you get so picky?”

“Since I lost my fucking arm, Mor.”

You snorted into your glass of wine and Azriel smiled as the pair continued bickering. He kept one hand under the table, rubbing small circles into your thigh. It wasn’t until Nesta decided to grace the early morning with her presence that Cassian turned his attention away from Mor, drawing Nesta down for a kiss.

A fresh bruise painted his cheekbone purple, pink, and blue.

Nesta gripped Cassian’s chin, turning his face to the side for a better look. “Who did this?”

“Emerie,” he said cheerfully. His grin was brighter than the sun.

Today was the first time he’d sparred with anyone since he lost his arm and Emerie hadn’t gone easy on him. On the contrary, she’d taken every advantage her two arms afforded her until Cassian felt more tender than a steak on a butcher’s board. He hadn’t been thrown on his back so many times since the mating frenzy.

It was a dirty, cunning way of fighting and he’d never appreciated the Illyrian female more.

Nesta smirked at her friend with a glint in her eye that looked suspiciously like gratitude.

Emerie only shrugged. She hadn’t experienced the same kind of loss that Cassian and Rhysand had, but she’d learned a great deal after her wing clipping. Carrying limbs that no longer worked was not so different from losing them entirely. It was all about a shifting of control and weight — about finding a new center of gravity and using weakness to your advantage.

“Did you go easy on him?” Nesta asked.

Emerie snorted. “Obviously not.”

“She fractured three ribs, but they’re healed now.”

“Very nice.”

Nesta settled down at her rightful seat beside Cassian and wordlessly cut up his breakfast.

“Thanks, Nes.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

Cassian chuckled and pulled her close until she was nearly in his lap. “Don’t give me so much power, darling.”

She huffed. “What power?”

“The power to win any argument in the future.” He stuck what remained of his right arm into the air and gave it a shake. It was a gentle, teasing reminder of who had cut it off in the first place.

Nesta narrowed her eyes until they were two clips of ice. “Don’t make me regret letting you live.”

“That’s much better.”

Some people needed a gentle touch after horrible events, but there was nothing gentle about Cassian. He’d been born with the wild in his blood. He knew how to adapt and survive, and if surviving meant he would lose his arm and get more time with his mate, it was a trade he was more than happy to make.

Azriel seemed to be in agreement. He never took his eyes off you. More interested in seeing your reaction than hearing which comment had brought it to life.

Feyre nudged Rhys, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as she looked back and forth from her mate to you and Azriel.

Now? Rhys asked.

Yes, now! They’ve been staring at each other for the last thirty minutes. It’s honestly unnerving... Do you think they’ve already accepted the bond?

There’s no way in hell. We would have known.

Azriel’s terribly good at keeping secrets.

The fact that they haven’t been missing the last few months is proof enough.

All the more reason to bring this up now so we can finally put them out of their misery.

Feyre shot to her feet at the head of the table and Rhysand scrambled to attention after her.

“It has come to our attention that we never did say congratulations to a special couple in this room.”

“Oh gods,” Azriel muttered.

Your face turned warm as everyone’s eyes and grins fell upon you and your mate.

“You didn’t think we forgot about your mating bond, did you?” Gwyn teased.

“We were kind of hoping you had,” you said. “Not that we aren’t happy or—” You glanced over at Azriel.

The first night you’d woken up in the Dawn Court you’d tried to crawl into his bones — an odd mixture of desperation and longing urging you to have your way with one other. Now, you were embarrassed to think that the first thing you’d tried to do after nearly dying, was sleep with your mate.

Azriel smiled, bending towards you like a flower seeking sunlight in silent encouragement. It was such a small, natural gesture, and one that everyone noticed. Which also meant they clocked the blush on your cheeks as you gripped Azriel’s hand under the table.

You cleared your throat. “We weren’t sure it was a good time with everything going on. We thought it might be wise to wait before—”

“No more waiting!” Cassian declared, slamming his fist against the table so hard the silverware bounced. “I swear to the fucking gods, if you’re not in the frenzy by the end of the week, Y/n, I’ll have you force feed Azriel myself.”

“We agreed we’d be gentle in our approach,” Elain reminded him.

“There was a plan in place for this?” Lucien sputtered. “And you were a part of it?”

She scoffed and lightly slapped his arm. Elain was a gentle, lovely creature when she wanted to be, and nothing melted her heart more than a good love story.

“I think we are in need of a celebration,” Vassa whispered. It was the first collection of words the firebird had spoken in months.

She’d sat for every meal at Lucien’s side completely silent. But this time, she reached a hand across the table and slid it into yours, squeezing tightly. Flashes of memory passed behind her eyes — memories of Jurian.

They weren’t fae. A mating bond was never in the cards for them. Which was why she felt strongly that you should be greedy with the time you had together. For there was no telling when it would end.

You sucked in a breath. You’d spoken at length about this with Azriel, tossing ideas back and forth during the night when the bond made your blood sing for more contact with the Shadowsinger. More touches.

But you’d agreed that it was inappropriate to have even a private mating ceremony when everyone was hurting. To abandon them and disappear into the frenzy.

Perhaps you’d both been wrong.

Given how quick everyone was to swarm you and Azriel, you were definitely wrong.

Rhysand hobbled over with his cane, kissing your cheek with a loud, obnoxious smack before aggressively disheveling Azriel’s hair.

“The cottage—” Azriel began.

“I’ll have it finished by tonight.” Rhysand promised.

Cassian threw his one good arm around Azriel’s shoulder, tugging him out of his chair and towards the door on a mission. Poor Lucien was also coerced into joining whatever debauchery Cassian had planned for their afternoon. He sulked after the pair with Rhysand.

Nesta, Feyre, and Mor crowded around you, already deliberating which of the many-frequented boutiques in Velaris they would need to visit for your mating ceremony attire.

You were positively overwhelmed by the attention and the realization that this was all happening.

By midnight, you would be mated to the love of your life.

Azriel slipped out from under Cassian’s arm, racing back across the room and falling to his knees. “I need a moment with you.” He breathed, thinly-veiled hunger in his eyes.

One nod was all it took before he was guiding you to the kitchen and slamming the door on everyone’s whistling.

Azriel pressed you against the kitchen door, chest heaving so hard you could feel every beat of his heart against your chest.

You’d both been holding back with each other ever since returning to the Night Court. Propriety and respect for his brothers had demanded you wait to express your love and wanting. You didn’t want to slap them in the face with joy.

But now that you had everyone’s overwhelming approval, well… Azriel was finding it nearly impossible to wait even a moment longer.

He pressed his lips to yours and didn’t let go of his soft grip on your waist until you were both gasping for breath. But then you kissed him back, swallowing his sighs and gentle groans like there was honey on his tongue. Sweet and addictive and—

Rhysand rudely knocked on the door, his sultry voice a purr. “In the kitchen, Azriel? Really? I would have expected more from a gentleman like you.”

“Fuck off, Rhys.”

The High Lord chuckled, but slipped away all the same.

Azriel grinned against your lips, your hands clasped together between your bodies. “I just wanted one last kiss before tonight.”

“Tonight.” You nodded frantically.

Tonight.

You were doing this. You were really doing this.

Then you realized what he’d said. “I won’t see you before then?”

“I don’t think the others will let us.”

Your laughs rang in the air, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets like wedding bells.

On the other side of your door you could feel everyone’s anticipation. And you couldn't keep them waiting much longer. They might just break down the door.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered before stealing one last kiss.

“Tonight.” Azriel agreed. His breath curled around your ear, lips brushing against the tip as he promised, “Until then.”

Feyre, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Elain, and Mor descended upon the Palace of Thread and Jewels, all too eager to heap your arms full of the most expensive lace money could buy.

You were about to marry into the Night Court and had a High Lord father who needed to make up for centuries of fatherly absence. There was more than enough gold to throw around.

“What do you think of this?” Feyre asked, draping the pale blue silk over your shoulder.

The clothier’s shop was bustling in the late morning, but no one dared step foot into the private room your family was set up in. The enchanted curtain blocked out all noise — tthe pinnacle of privacy.

You stood alone on a low platform, swishing the skirts of your dress and imagining what the finished product might look like.

Farron, the clothier, had been quick to stitch a muslin mock up of the design you’d chosen, knotted fingers shocking in their dexterity as needle and thread disappeared and reappeared in her hand like some trick of the eye. She hadn’t even taken your measurements. One spin with your arms outstretched and she’d set about cutting the exact length of material needed for your mating ceremony gown.

It was no wonder that she was Rhysand’s preferred clothier.

It still felt like a dream. Some wonderful, impossible dream as you took in the sight of the fabric over your chest.

It glistened like moonlight and flowed like river water.

“Feyre, it’s perfect,” You breathed, touching the silken threads beneath your fingertips.

“An excellent choice,” Farron said with a smile. She stood dutifully off to the side, tortoise-rimmed glasses growing her eyes to bug-like proportions.

You were a lovely thing in her eyes. A fine match for the Shadowsinger, indeed.

Now, no one had told her that that was the cause for celebration. But she’d been clothing the Night Court males for a long while and knew them like the back of her hand. And you? You were made for the Shadowsinger. That much was clear.

It was from centuries of experience that she classified the soft parting of your mouth and wide eyes. It was the look mates and brides alike adopted when they’d found the perfect dress. The one that would make them feel as perfect and precious as a pearl.

Your brows furrowed in concern. “My mating ceremony is tonight. Will it be ready by then?”

“Pfffft.” The clothier slapped her chest indignantly. “It will be ready in three hours time. You can return once after you’ve finished your shopping and we’ll have a final ceremony look ready for you, my dear.”

With a dress being sewn together at Farron’s, Mor hurried you along to what she believed was the most critical part of any mating ceremony dress — the lingerie. The ordeal left a permanent blush on your cheeks as you quickly moved on to the shoemaker and then the jeweler.

“Which one did you decide on?” Mor asked once again. She trailed at your heels, resting her chin on your shoulder as you kept your wares clutched to your chest.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?” She whined. Red fingernails grazed the tissue paper that peaked out from the edges of the lingerie box.

“Because that is for Azriel to know, and only Azriel,” you said, snatching the box out of her grasp.

Nesta laughed. “What does it matter which pair she’s picked? It’s not like it will survive the first night of the frenzy.”

Your cheeks burned with color.

Mor giggled at your shyness. “Don’t act coy now, Y//n. We all know what you four read in your free time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t benefit, love.” Emerie teased, squeezing Mor’s hip.

“I never suggested such a thing.”

Gwyn gagged when they kissed and everyone broke apart into fits of laughter in the streets, leaning against shoulders and stumbling on the cobblestones as they caught their breath.

You were pressed in on all sides by familiar bodies, a comforting mixture of perfumes, and the sounds of laughter.

It’s happening. It’s really happening.

Your grin could have put the sun to shame as you bounced on your heels in front of the mirror.

Pale blue silk dipped down to the center of your chest and fell off your shoulders like mist. Wide, airy sleeves hovered at your elbows, ending in curls of hand-woven lace. A pair of ribbon-tie shoes and ear-tip cuffs completed the ensemble.

They were both blue for Azriel — for your mate — who currently stood awestruck by the door.

You didn’t startle when you caught a sliver of his reflection in the mirror. In fact, you were rather pleased to see his slack jaw and glistening eyes.

“What do you think?” You asked as Azriel slipped out from the darkness and into your old bedroom.

You hardly stepped foot in here anymore. Azriel’s bedroom had solidly become yours. Your clothes were mixed in with his. Your perfume bottles and soaps lined his bathroom. Your scent was tied to his bed, or rather your bed.

“I think… I think you’re a dream, Y/n.” He spoke with a sigh.

He melted into the curve of your neck, hands ghosting over your shoulders with a feather-light touch.

He shook his head, as if disappointed.

“No,” he corrected himself, “You’re far better than a dream because you’re real, and I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered.

You leaned back against his chest and breathed deeply, feeling your heart soothe itself to the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of mountain air and cedar trees.

He was beautiful. Black velvet encased his broad shoulders, cutting out a silhouette of pitch black night and highlighting the glow of his hazel eyes — like two chips of amber aglow in a dark wood.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring and threading your fingers into his soft, black curls, eliciting a soft groan from his lips that had your blood stirring to life.

“I thought we were supposed to meet downstairs.”

Azriel smiled. “I selfishly wanted to be the first to see you.”

“That’s not selfish at all,” You hummed. You began tracing the gold cuffs that spanned the length of his ears and the subtle embroidery at the wrists and front of his shirt. They were distinctly Day Court fashions, and he wore them well. “These are new.”

“I may or may not have reached out to your father for advice when picking out my clothes.”

“I like them. Day Court colors suit you. They bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.”

Azriel smiled, kissing the curve of your ears and playing with the sapphire necklace clasped around your neck. The drag of metal and fingertips over your chest had you shivering.

You gently tugged at his hair and he obeyed the unspoken command to lean down and capture your lips in a kiss. Soft sounds spilled from both of you as he walked you back towards the wall and gently pressed you against it, flatting his hands by the sides of your head.

Azriel got lost in the taste of you. Your hands in his hair. The feeling of your hips flush against his. Every movement was subtle, but eager, in its wanting and Azriel knew that when he finally had you beneath him, he’d be ruined… If he wasn’t ruined already.

There was another reason he’d wanted to see you first before relinquishing you to the formalities of a mating ceremony.

He’d been on edge all day, unused to being the unbridled center of attention among his brothers. Cassian was brash and loud, Rhysand flirtatious and passionate. Even Lucien radiated an undeniable charisma that made him popular within crowds.

But Azriel had always prized quiet and peace above all else. He wanted to feel that peace again.

The bond rose within him like high tide, spilling color and light into his chest as you pressed your forehead against his and cradled the curve of his neck.

He breathed deep and he breathed freely, feeling something in his soul mend itself with a roll of anticipation. A tendril of cold wrapped around his ear and whispered in a language only Azriel could understand.

Too long, master. It’s been too long.

Azriel’s eyes flew open. He’d nearly forgotten the shape of their words — the language that he’d been taught to speak after years spent in the dark. Months of soft spoken words he could barely make out became a chorus of congratulations as they sensed the connection that now bound you and Azriel together.

They’d known about it since the beginning, but now that you were also aware, they were ecstatic.

Black shadows spilled out from his skin, eagerly wrapping you up in a shell of twisting darkness. They embraced you, kissing your cheeks with cool, feathery touches.

Azriel swallowed your laughter, hands diving down and lifting up your dress so he could squeeze your thighs and wrap your legs around him.

It was a kiss made of teeth and longing and relief. With his shadows having returned and a mating bond ready to be accepted, Azriel felt invincible. Like he was cradling the world in his arms.

But it was ended all too soon by a shadow in his ear that warned, They’re almost at the door.

Gods he missed having them around.

You gasped, picking up on the sound of Lucien and Helion’s strong footsteps coming towards the door. They were supposed to walk you downstairs before handing you off to your mate, and although Azriel had made leaps and bounds in earning their blessing you didn’t think they’d take kindly to seeing the Shadowsinger flush between your legs just before your mating ceremony.

“Shit.” You hissed, untangling yourself from Azriel as he fixed your dress and struggled to hide his laughter.

You pushed him backwards, masking both your scents and shoving him inside the wardrobe.

“My Y/n, what are you doing?” Azriel asked. He needed to bend just to fit inside the empty wardrobe. His eyes glittered with amusement, shadows pooling around his wings.

“I-I was going to try and hide you before my father and brother come inside but” — a handful of shadows curled around your wrists and ankles, intent on becoming permanent fixtures for as long as you were separated from your mate — “I see that’s not necessary anymore.”

Azriel grinned and pulled you in for one last kiss. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he whispered just as Lucien’s polite knock came at the door.

“I’ll see you downstairs.”

His shadows swirled around him and he melted into the darkness.

Mating ceremonies were fluid, adaptable affairs. They could be as extravagant and public or as humble and private as one desired. It made no difference. You were his, and he was yours. Now and forever.

You would have accepted the bond with Azriel in your father’s palace or in a desert wasteland. Still, you had to agree that home was best.

The largest room in the River House — the dining room — had been cleared out for the purpose of your mating ceremony. Candlelight flickered atop the fireplace mantle where you, Azriel, and the priestess stood, and within sconces dripping with wisteria and baby’s breath along the wall. The light of a thousand lanterns, gauzy and warm, lit up the gardens outside the House.

“All kneel,” the priestess said, holding out two crowns of lavender and lilies of the valley.

Everyone kneeled in a loose half-circle.

Her dusty blue robes brushed against the floor as she placed the crown atop Azriel’s head and then yours. At her instruction, you shifted on the floor, facing each other with smiles that couldn’t be contained.

Azriel’s eyes burned bright, as if all the gold in the world had been distilled and dropped into them.

You took the candles the priestess held out, holding them in your left hand and clasping together your right.

Azriel snuck a quick kiss to your palm before the priestess could wrap your wrists and hands together with ribbons of blue and gold. She drifted her fingers over the candles and lit them with a flourish.

Before the Mother, the priestess, and your family, you exchanged your vows.

Secret glances passed between you and the Shadowsinger. Brief smiles tugged at the corners of your lips. Squeezing hands soothed your soul and grounded you in the present as you spoke the words together:

I give to you the hands of a warrior, lover, friend, and mate, till the darkness comes and our endings wake.

I give to you my name, to hold on your lips and to pass on your years in hope and longing, in joy and tears.

Blood of blood. Bone of bone. I shall be yours, and you shall be mine.

Until we return to the earth and hear the Mother’s song. Until the end of our days—

“Until death and beyond,” Azriel whispered the final vows.

“Until death and beyond,” you replied.

“Who the hell spilled the champagne!”

The floor was already sticky with it, grabbing onto Rhysand’s shoes as he stepped out of the puddle. A guilty Feyre chugged the last dregs in the bottle, magicking away the spill with a snap of her fingers and a sultry wink towards her mate. She shrieked with laughter when Rhys limped over to her, collapsing around her shoulders and blowing kisses against her neck.

Nyx sat at Amren’s feet on the floor, struggling to hold his violet eyes open as she scratched his head with her silver-tipped nails. Amren was not one for parties and regarded the room with bored eyes.

Mor sat in the seat of honor — Emerie’s lap — whispering gossip in the Illyrian’s ear as you and Azriel tried to make yourselves sparse in the corner.

You were half-hidden behind Azriel’s wings as he leaned his head against your shoulder. Leave it to you two to hide at your own mating ceremony.

Lucien and Elain drank wine by the kitchen. She left her hand comfortably on his upper arm and smiled when he tucked a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. They were a handsome couple — all pale colors and golden gazes, like sunshine spilling over a new day.

Helion, entertaining as always, dazzled the group that had assembled around him composed of Gwyn, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta. Every so often his bright eyes would land on you and he’d wink before pointing threateningly in Azriel’s direction.

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and he dipped his lips to your ears and asked, “Do you think he’ll ever approve of me?”

“He already approves of you, he just doesn’t want you to know.”

“He’s a smart male for keeping such a secret. My ego may grow too big for you to handle if he compliments me outright.”

“Didn’t he once invite you to his bed?”

“That’s not very special coming from Helion.”

You burst out laughing, attracting everyone’s attention as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest to stifle the noise. He laughed aloud as well. Head thrown back, chest and shoulders shaking. It was a full-bodied laugh that harmonized with yours as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back.

Azriel’s laughter had once been a rare sound, but you drew it out of him so easily, like a musician with their instrument.

Feyre grinned and clapped her hands together. All at once the dining room rearranged itself. The candle flames grew brighter. A table laden with food and chairs popped into existence.

For such a special occasion, you and Azriel sat at the head of the table, subtly leaning against one another with your legs tangled beneath the tablecloth as you ate.

There was a cake still waiting to be cut in the kitchen — a cake that you’d baked with Azriel’s name written all over it in invisible ink.

Nyx twisted around in his chair, eyes utterly fixated on the seemingly endless rows of lanterns glowing in the garden.

“Mom.” Nyx tugged on Feyre’s wrist as she cleaned his cheek. “When will I get to float the lanterns?”

Feyre looked to you and Azriel.

The lanterns were an old Day Court tradition. On the longest night of the year, Day Court citizens dared to step outside into the dark and light up the sky with their own sun-painted lanterns. It was a way to keep the darkness at bay for a little while longer. A time to add your own light to the night sky.

“Now,” you smiled. “Let’s do it now.”

You all spilled out into the gardens, cheering Nyx on as he raced ahead of everyone else with short, energetic strides. His wings flared out behind him, catching the name of the wind as it whispered against the velvety membrane.

“Not yet!” Rhys reminded him. “You need to let your aunt and uncle go first.”

You and Azriel picked up the largest lantern of them all, delicate rice paper crinkling as you held it up. The starburst-shaped lantern glowed faintly. A burning sun. A fallen star.

Everyone bent over in the flowers and grasses, hunting to find the second-best lantern for themselves.

“This one’s for Velaria,” Nyx said, holding up a small, round orb. “This one’s for you, Daddy.” A pale lavender lantern was placed carefully in his father’s hand. “And this one’s for Mommy.”

“Why thank you, honey.” Feyre bent low, kissing her son’s velvety black hair as she held Velaria in her arms.

“Is everyone ready?” You called out.

Cheers sounded from all around. Particularly energetic whoops came from Cassian and Mor, who tipped back their heads and howled like wolves, ready to throw their lanterns to the sky.

Azriel tucked you beneath the curve of his wings and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple before you both let your magic seep into the lantern and sent it skywards.

There was chatter from all sides. Soft gasps leaving open-mouth stares as a dozen lanterns started drifting upwards like miniature suns.

“It’s all you, Nyx!” Azriel shouted.

The boy leapt into action, finding the tallest patch of ground in the garden to make his directorial debut. He fixed the tilt of his bowtie and bent his knees. Slowly and dramatically he curled his fingers, raising his hands upwards like he meant to pull water out of the ground.

He looked like an orchestra conductor leading his players in a great crescendo as the remaining one-thousand lanterns took off into the night sky.

You gasped and flung your hands up to your lips. Three hundred and forty-three years you’d been alive, and this was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen.

You turned to Azriel only to find that he was already staring at you — at the light of a thousand suns reflected in your eyes.

You found yourself proven wrong, and not for the first time. The lanterns were only the second most beautiful sight… and you wanted to see more.

Azriel read the idea forming in your mind and nodded.

Without hesitation, you took his hand, slinking through the now darkening garden as everyone else’s attention was directed towards the sky.

Lanterns arced through the darkness, staining the sky warm orange as if a painter had swept her brush over the black canvas.

Shadows nipped at your heels and covered your tracks, urging you onward as you slipped back into the House and then the kitchen.

You didn’t even bother cutting the cake. After rummaging around in the kitchen drawers for a spoon, you carved out a spoonful of chocolate cake with strawberries and a healthy dollop of whipped cream frosting — Azriel’s favorite.

The Shadowsinger froze, eyes darting back and forth between the cake and your flushed face. Your eyes glowed in the dim light, marked by a quiet, otherworldly beauty Azriel had never been able to resist.

“Don’t tell me you’re second guessing this now?” You breathed, moving the spoon closer to his lips.

“I just… I just want to make sure I remember everything about tonight,” he whispered.

He adjusted the crown of lavender and lilies on your head, picking up a loose flower petal that had drifted onto your bare shoulders. His touch was soft. Gentle. Reverent as he trailed his fingers up your neck and brushed his thumb along your jaw.

His lips closed around the spoon, dragging off every crumb and lick of frosting while never taking his eyes off of you.

It was probably a delicious cake, but all Azriel would remember was the taste of your lips that followed as he drew you to his body.

When the bond had first snapped for him, he thought the world had cracked in two. Like the sharp clap of lightning across the sky.

What followed after the sugar and chocolate melted on his tongue was the thunder — a resounding tremor as the bond glowed hot as iron before cooling into something permanent and unbreakable.

Azriel let out a breathless noise. Something between a sigh and a shudder. He clutched your back, nails dragging lightly along your exposed skin in a way that had you melting.

“I want to go. Now.” You rasped.

You wanted him desperately. More than words could describe.

Azriel scooped you up into his arms, and together you vanished into the shadows before anyone even realized you were missing.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Y'all, I just love Y/n and Azriel so much...

THEY FUCKING DESERVE A PROPER MATING CEREMONY LIKE DAMNIT THEY BOTH NEARLY DIED LIKE 3X AND YES I'M GOING TO WRITE A SEX SCENE NEXT CHAPTER, I DON'T CARE, THEY DESERVE THIS, Y'ALL DESERVE THIS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THE LAST 6 MONTHS AND OVER 100K WORDS LIKE YOU ARE THE TRUE MVPs AND I APPRECIATE YOU IMMENSELY!!! (*but also, if you're not into reading smut scenes, I'll write the next chapter in such a way that you can just skip over it and not miss anything continuity-wise)

THANK YOU FOR READING!

We're almost at the end I've got like two chapters left, one of which is already mostly written, and maybe the epilogue will be it's own thing or part of the last chapter i don't know and just UGH it's almost over... ok i'm going to end this author's note here because I'm getting sad just thinking about this fic ending

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #acotar #azriel x reader angst #ok but also now that Rhys lost his wings maybe he'll actually do more to stop wing clippings and female mutilation in Illyria 👀#I said what I said

480 notes · View notes

nerdallwritey · 4 days ago

Text

Three Little Words

Summary: “Well, this has been lovely,” Astarion said, making his way to the door leading back into the inn proper. “Anything else we should know before we head off to save the day?” He was already halfway out the door, not bothering to wait for an answer, clearly trying to make a stealthy exit. You eyed Halsin, who nodded and retrieved the rogue by his arm before he could leave, closing the door behind both of them for good measure. “Let me go, you humongous imbecile!” Astarion pounded his free arm against Halsin’s chest before Halsin released him and refused to let him move a muscle towards the door. Astarion huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up at the rest of you. “Is he okay?” Isobel asked. “This is relatively normal behavior from him, actually,” Karlach said. OR Astarion accidentally says something nice, then acts like an idiot for the rest of the day.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ (no smut) Word count: 8.3k CW: lots of Act 2 exposition, Rolan is a drunk dick, Astarion's scars, sitcom antics, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot, and more so than usual), Halsin's tits Spoilers: Spoilers for Act 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 7 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: PART 7 IS ALIIIIIIIIIVE!!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this one, I had more planned for it but decided to cut it in half since I already yap too much as it is. I wanted this chapter to be a fresh enough take on the beginning of Act 2, and I hope you all enjoy! This one gets really sitcom-y at certain points which was a blast to write and I hope you have a blast reading! Part 8 is already in the works and I'm VERY excited to share that one with you all!! There's no smut in this chapter, and for that, I apologize. If all goes according to plan, Part 8 will have you covered! (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski, and the wonderful @arzen9 for reading!) As a reminder, last time, you fell asleep in Astarion's arms and he realized he's in love with you...

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

You awoke to an empty bed.

Drearily and with a tired moan, your arm flung out to search blindly in the dark, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Slowly, it came back to you - you’d made it to an inn in the Shadow Cursed Lands. You’d shared a passionate night with Astarion. Perhaps the vampire whose arms you were sure you’d fallen asleep in had rolled off the bed in the night? You inched your body to the edge of the bed, hanging your head over the side and blinking rapidly to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Nope. No trancing elf. Just a loose floorboard from the night before.

You flopped dramatically onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. Couldn’t vampires technically hang from ceilings? Was it possible Astarion had somehow sleep… vampired? And somehow found himself snoozing upside down on the ceiling?

No, that was stupid, of course he wasn’t on the ceiling. Though you did squint and stare above you for longer than you would ever admit to anyone.

Exhaling quietly, you sat up on your arms to scan the rest of the room before your eyes landed on a silhouette hunched in front of the drawn curtains of the room’s large window.

Astarion was muttering quietly, his arm bent behind his back. “I… F… or is it an E? Is it even a letter?” You heard him sigh and saw his frame straighten fractionally. “What damn language is this?”

You half smiled affectionately, sitting up fully against the pillows.

“Need some help writing a sonnet, Volo?” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and turned to face him.

Astarion jumped. “Ah!” You heard a loud crash as you saw his darkened form trip backwards over your discarded backpack.

“Astarion!” you cried, springing up from the bed and joining him on the ground. “Are you alright?” You brushed your knuckles over his cheek as he groaned lowly.

His eyes were shut tight in mild pain, but they opened after a moment to blink up at you. When he saw the concerned look on your face, he sat up quickly and backed away from you until his back made contact with your overturned backpack.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Astarion smiled awkwardly. “Oh nothing, darling.” After a second, he said your name softly.

You narrowed your eyes and stood up, striking a match and lighting the candle on the table parallel to the bed. “I don’t believe you.”

He was staring at you in a way that gave you the sense he wasn’t listening.

“Hello?” you asked, snapping your fingers.

Astarion shook his head, regaining focus. “Apologies, dear, you caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

You crossed your arms and smiled. “That little spill of yours kind of gave that much away.”

Astarion rose to his feet and rubbed his backside. “Yes, well…” He held his upper arm awkwardly and avoided meeting your eye. Your brow furrowed, but he continued talking. “I’ve… been tracing the scars on my back with my fingers, trying to read them by touch, but I can’t. They may as well be written in Rashemi.”

There was something weird about his body language. Like he was trying to hide something from you, but you decided to focus on what he was telling you. Maybe if he kept talking, you’d figure out what was wrong.

You stepped closer, pausing when he took another step back. You spoke calmly, “Let me have a look.”

“I-” he sighed. “This isn’t your problem, you know.”

“Like hells, it isn’t,” you scoffed with a smile. “Your problems are my problems now.” You stepped forward again and took his hand. He looked you in the eye before quickly looking away. “I want to help you.” You brushed your nose against his.

A chill ran through his body, and you felt his hand tremble in yours. “Fine.”

Hesitantly, he slowly turned his back towards you.

It was rare that Astarion would purposely show you his back. You’d run your hands along the ridges of his scars numerous times, but he was reluctant to let you look at the hacked flesh directly. You assumed it was linked to the poorly hidden shame he felt towards his past, but you never looked at the marks with anything but admiration for his bravery and a sign of his survival.

Now, seeing the scars straight on by the light of the candle, you recognized the runes as a language you’d seen written many times in books and in school growing up; Infernal. The language of the Hells.

From what little you could make out, the language was fragmented and strange. This scar was just a piece of a larger text.

“And?” Astarion probed, looking over his shoulder at you. “What does it say?” Embarrassment and hopeful curiosity coated his words.

“Well, it’s certainly not a poem. In fact, from what I can tell, it might be part of a devil’s pact.”

His eyes narrowed. “Infernal pact? But not even the whole text?” He turned back to face you. “What was that bastard up to?”

“Did you ever see Cazador write in Infernal before?”

Astarion thought for a moment. “No. I could have missed it, of course, but I doubt it. Whatever he’s carved in my flesh, it’s a mystery to me.” When he realized you didn’t have some sort of quip to add, he continued. “Cazador was only figuratively hellish - there were never any devils hanging about the crypt.”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t think there would be. Though, can you imagine Mizora in a crypt? Or Raphael? He’d probably be repulsed.”

Astarion stiffened visibly. “Raphael… yes…”

You attempted to get his attention back on you by squeezing his hand. “What about him?”

He looked at you briefly, a slight smirk on his lips. “If anyone’s going to know about infernal contracts, he will.”

“I mean… That makes sense, I guess.”

Astarion pointed towards you excitedly. “I knew you’d see the pragmatic side.”

You tilted your head, thinking. “But Mizora’s kind of all about infernal legalese.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Sure, but Raphael has more panache. And I doubt Wyll would appreciate us summoning his devilish pact-maker.”

“Good point.”

“Unfortunately, Raphael comes and goes on his own schedule, so we’ll just have to look out for any sulfurous odors or the sound of questionable poetry.”

That got you to smile. He smiled back, and reached out to hold your elbows lightly. “You will help me, won’t you, darling?”

“Of course I will,” you said, bending up to kiss his cheek. You felt him flinch beneath your lips. “Are you sure everything is alright? You seem awfully on edge.”

“Me? On edge? Of course not!” His voice pitched up uncharacteristically and broke at the end. “I don’t know why that came out all squeaky because really,” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice comically, “I’m fine.”

You smiled skeptically. “If you say so.”

“Don’t worry about me, dearest,” he released your arms and knelt to go through his own bag. He pulled out a fresh shirt and slipped it over his head. “I think I’ll spend some time this morning studying the art of infernal negotiations.” He kissed you swiftly before pulling away as if you’d shocked him. “I’ll…” you caught him look down at the ring still gracing your left pinky, “see you later.”

With that, he quickly left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you with nothing but the sound of Harpers patrolling outside and patrons sitting by the bar.

You exhaled loudly, staring at the door after him.

Something was definitely wrong.

Compared to last night, when he was blissed out on your tongue, and kissing your throat with fervent passion, there was no doubt something was bothering him.

But what?

You sat back on the bed, replaying the previous night over in your head. Had you done something wrong? Had you pushed him too hard to do something he didn’t want to do?

No. No, you were fairly certain he had truly enjoyed himself with you.

But then again, you were very new to sex. And new to Astarion, for that matter. Was it possible he could still pull one over on you, even though you felt like you could read him pretty well by now?

Regardless of whatever was going on with Astarion, it was clear that it had to do with you, based purely on his hesitancy to get close to you just now.

Sniffing your sleep shirt and feeling suddenly self conscious, you ran a warm bath and scrubbed yourself clean of whatever grime had clung to your body since entering the Shadow Cursed Lands.

A short time later, you found yourself exiting the bedroom, your hair damp, and fresh clothes gracing your figure. You paused in the doorway, scanning the large, open room that made up most of the first floor. Immediately, your eyes fell on the gaggle of child criminals behind the bar that you’d sicced on Astarion at the Tiefling party.

Smiling to yourself, you took a step towards the bar, only to freeze when you heard the familiarly cool tone of a tiefling wizard.

“...There’s another bottle of Arabellan dry back there,” Rolan practically spat. “Put it on the bar, then piss off and leave me alone.”

Zaki and Meli, two of the tiefling kids, exchanged glances before Zaki upturned his nose at Rolan.

“Jaheira said we should serve drinks, but that we shouldn't serve drunks.”

Slurring his words mildly, Rolan pointed an accusatory finger at the children. “Jaheira didn’t save your ragged little tail from the cultists. I did.”

You stepped forward and made eye contact with Zaki and Meli who smirked when they recognized you. You winked at them and they nodded before turning their backs on Rolan and focusing their attentions within the bar.

“Given the constant darkness, I know it’s fairly difficult to tell the time, but I’m pretty sure it’s a little too early in the day to get this sloshed.” You took a seat beside Rolan.

He looked over at you and rolled his eyes. “Oh. It’s you.”

You pursed your lips at his tone and rested your head on your hand. “Hi Rolan.”

“Don’t you get tired of telling people how to live their lives?” He took a big swig from his stein before scowling at you and turning away. “If you’re here to save the day again, you’re a little late this time.”

You sat up straighter, suddenly aware of the absence of Cal and Lia. “What happened? Where’s-”

“Oh, sod off,” he hissed. “I’m only here because you ‘helped’ me and my family.”

“I-”

“I was ready to cut and run back at the Grove, but you had other ideas.” Rolan gestured erratically with his mug and free hand.

You leaned in fractionally, attempting to calm him down enough to tell you what was happening. “Rolan, where-”

“Cal and Lia were taken in by your crap,” he slurred. “You convinced them to play hero, and now they’re gone.”

You bit your lip and looked around, feeling stupid when you obviously caught no sight of the siblings. “Do you know where they are?”

Rolan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and whipped his head to look at you with a scowl. “Dead, for all I know. Or in the cult’s tower with the others who were taken.”

“Taken,” you repeated, your voice catching in your throat. You looked around frantically, taking note of the tieflings you recognized. Doing a mental headcount, it appeared that the kids were almost accounted for, minus Mol, who you knew was around here somewhere, and Arabella, who was probably with Mol, but there was a distinct lack of adults you’d met back at the Grove. You spotted Alfira sitting alone at the hearth, with Lakrissa nowhere to be seen. Zevlor was also noticeably missing.

They must have been attacked on their way to Baldur’s Gate and taken to Moonrise. You hoped that was the worst of it, praying silently to whichever god was listening that the tieflings would be okay.

As your eyes continued to scan the taproom, you spotted Shadowheart, Wyll, Lae’zel, and Karlach talking pointedly with Jaheira over a map spread out over her desk. Their attention was drawn away from the map for a moment when Astarion strode by them with a heavy tome from a wall of books, over to a table where Gale was reading what appeared to be a small book of poetry. It seemed as though Gale had just recently sat down without Astarion’s knowledge, because the vampire gathered up a stack of books resting on the table and rerouted to an empty one out of earshot from the wizard.

When Astarion caught your eye, he froze momentarily and you sent him a small smile. His eyes flicked between you and Rolan, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. You shook your head minutely, causing him to turn back slowly towards his empty table and dust off the newest book you assumed was full of Infernal translations of some kind. You pretended not to notice him watching you closely.

Rolan, meanwhile, was still brooding over his ale. “Get the bottle,” he nodded at Meli, “give me the bottle - it’s not hard.”

Meli crossed his arms. “I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to give you a lashing,” Rolan slurred, “but I will, damn it.”

“Whoa,” you said, holding up both hands, “let’s not resort to threatening kids just because we’re angry.”

You laid a gentle hand on Rolan’s arm, only for him to shake you off roughly.

“How dare you tell me - me - how to live my life. After everything I’ve just said.”

Before you had a chance to respond, a flash of silver glinted before your eyes as Astarion slammed a dagger into the wood of the counter between you and Rolan.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked, sidling up next to you, and helping himself to a bottle of red wine within reach. His books laid abandoned at his empty table not too far off.

“You gonna pay for that?” Zaki asked with a huff.

“Quiet, child whose name I’ve never cared to learn.” You crossed your arms and gave Astarion a look before he rolled his eyes and extended his neck towards you. “She’ll cover it.”

You rolled your eyes in return and reached into your pocket to hand the tiefling a gold piece.

“I knew I liked you,” Zaki smirked before running off to show the other kids his loot.

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Gold, darling? Really?”

“I think we’ll survive,” you said softly before pulling the knife out of the countertop and laying it gently on its side.

Astarion caught sight of the blade and refocused his attention on the bitter wizard beside him. “As I said, is there a problem here?” His words came out like a growl and his hand flexed as if preparing to strike, before realizing his dagger was on the counter, and instead opted for a swig of his overpriced wine.

“No problem at all,” Rolan said in mock nonchalance. “It’s only that your partner here led my siblings to their doom.” He slammed his mug on the counter, earning a few curious and annoyed looks from other patrons and passing Harpers.

“Okay good, so no problem then,” Astarion took another swig of his wine.

“Astarion,” you hissed before turning back to Rolan. “We’ll rescue them.”

“If they’re alive,” Astarion muttered. He nearly choked when you forcefully nudged him with your elbow.

“Bullshit,” Rolan snapped. “If they’re alive, I can save them. They’re my responsibility.” He downed the rest of his drink before boldly turning to face you and Astarion head on. He puffed out his chest, attempting to look bigger. “You go save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do.”

“Hey,” Astarion slammed down his own bottle and rose to his full height, “your useless siblings would be lucky to be saved by her.”

“How dare you,” Rolan moved closer to Astarion, but you weaved in-between them before either of them could get their hands on the other. Patrons were starting to stare. You even caught Jaheira turning to give you a curious raise of her eyebrow.

“Both of you, cut it out.” You placed a hand on Astarion’s chest to keep him at bay, and didn’t dare to touch Rolan again. Astarion, in turn, took your hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss.

“Listen here, you shoddy excuse of a wizard,” Astarion clutched your hand to his chest and refused to let it go when you attempted to pry it free, “if this woman offers her help, she means it. And based on our numbers, eight, I believe, as opposed to your, what? One?”

“Astarion-”

“I’d say you should take her up on that offer.”

Rolan scoffed. “As if your oafish party could infiltrate Moonrise unnoticed. I’ll have a much easier time sneaking in by myself.”

Astarion laughed airly. “Oh, please, darling, you set one foot outside the protective barrier on this place and the shadows will come for you. You’ll go mad and join your siblings in the great beyond.”

“Astarion, please,” you said sharply and finally pulled your hand free from his grasp.

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Rolan said flatly. He got up to leave, stumbling a bit as he headed in the direction of the entrance.

Astarion crossed his arms with a smug look of triumph on his face. He called after him with the finishing blow: “Do tell the shadows I miss their cold embrace when they swallow you whole.”

The comment made Rolan turn on his heel and march back, sidestepping you and pressing an accusatory finger into Astarion’s chest. “Why is it so important to you whether my family lives or dies? Huh? Do you get some sort of… boon? From whatever devil created a fanged freak like you?”

Your eyes darted back and forth between the tiefling and the vampire, smiling awkwardly at patrons who passed by and shrugging as if to say, “Can you believe these guys?”

Astarion laughed again. “Darling, I couldn’t care less about the fate of you, or any other refugee for that matter.”

A look of confusion passed over Rolan’s face before it morphed back into a scowl. “Then why do you care about this?”

“I don’t.”

“You do!”

You stepped forward, bringing your hands up to try and offer a showing of peace. “Come on, boys. Rolan, we’d be happy to look for your siblings and help however we can. Astarion, why don’t we leave Rolan to think about it for a bit and-”

Rolan shook his head. “Oh no, I’m going after Cal and Lia on my own, and you can’t stop me.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “A mistake.”

“Leave me to my own choices, will you?!”

“Not when your choices are objectively stupid and illogical!” He took a step forward, causing Rolan to take an indignant step back. Astarion smirked and looked down his nose at his opponent. “Which is funny, seeing as how you tote yourself around as if you’re some big wizard prodigy.” He took another step forward and lowered his voice menacingly. “Why don’t you use that brain of yours and stay here, where you can’t bother anybody else?”

This time, Rolan stood his ground and raised his voice. “Why do you care?!”

“Because she cares and I love her!”

Time froze.

Astarion was locked in a stare down with Rolan, as if his declaration was the most obvious thing in the world and not something that had just changed everything.

I love her.

The words replayed your mind like the most beautiful melody you’d ever heard.

Astarion had a way of doing that; reciting words or sounds or phrases that quickly became your new favorite songs.

But this time, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing.

“What?” Your hand reached out and brushed his softly.

Astarion jolted and slowly turned to look at you, sudden panic flashing over his features. “What?”

“You said-”

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

“No, you said-”

He raised his voice to speak over you. “I said something devastating to this wizard, rendering him absolutely shattered, isn’t that right, wizard?” He looked to Rolan for help, but Rolan’s eyes were wide with discomfort.

“Oh, this… was that the first-? While you were yelling at me? Yikes.” He began to back away slowly.

Astarion lunged forward to grab him, but Rolan’s tipsiness worked to his advantage and somehow allowed him to bob out of the elf’s grasp.

“Get back here!” Astarion floundered, but you caught him by the wrist.

“You said you loved me!” You were smiling widely, your heart the fullest it had ever been.

“No I didn’t!” Astarion snatched his hand out of yours and turned to face you while actively backing away.

You laughed in thrilled disbelief. “Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!” He crossed his arms in front of himself as if you were a demon coming to rip his unbeating heart out of his very ribs.

“You love me!”

“No I don’t!” He sounded almost like a child as he insisted he hadn’t just said the three little words you’d been so eager to hear.

“Astarion, I-”

“Your move, Mol,” a sultry voice reached your ears, somehow piercing through your train of thought and what you had been about to confess. You scrunched your nose at the suddenly overpowering scent of cherries masking a fouler stench of sulfur.

Astarion was frozen leaning away from you, but his eyes shifted towards the voice and then back to you before he darted in Raphael’s direction.

“Astarion!” you called after him, hot on his heels.

He barely turned to respond. “Can’t hear you darling, important business must be attended to!”

“This is important business!” you countered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dearest!” He came to a halt in a smaller room connected to the large tap room. You stopped short behind him, nearly slamming into his back.

Immediately you spied Raphael sitting elegantly in front of a game of lanceboard. Mol was sitting opposite from him, squinting at the pieces and analyzing her current position.

“You trapped me,” she said, annoyed. “I didn’t even want to take this one.”

“Calimshan rules, dear,” Raphael explained, and Astarion groaned quietly next to you. “The first piece touched is the first piece moved.”

“Boring,” Astarion muttered.

Mol huffed. “That’s garbage! No matter where the knight goes, I’m gonna lose it.”

Raphael’s tone became more stern when he instructed, “Then make the sacrifice useful. Guard your Mystra, or come for my Cyric.”

“We should really talk,” you murmured to Astarion, who cleared his throat and drew Raphael and Mol’s attention to you instead.

Mol’s face instantly lit up when she saw you. “Look who made it! For once I saved your butt out there with Jaheira, didn’t I?”

You returned her smile, stepping closer and pretending to punch her upper arm playfully. “You sure did. Can’t thank you enough for that, Mol.”

She gave you a smug sideways smirk. “We’re square now, chief.”

“I guess we are,” you laughed.

“Say,” she said, “do you play lanceboard by any chance? It’s my first time playing.”

Judging by the mischievous glint in her eye, you immediately clocked that she was lying to throw off Raphael.

“Oh, he’s laid a fine trap for you, Mol,” came Gale’s voice over your right shoulder.

“Where did you come from?” Astarion yelped and clutched his chest from his spot on your left.

Gale opted to ignore Astarion’s dramatic display and continued, “But it looks to me like his Cyric could be dethroned.”

You nodded, thinking back to several lanceboard games you’d played with Gale over the course of this journey. You lowered your voice and nodded at the pieces in front of Mol. “Gale’s right. Put pressure on him. Attack the pieces in front of his Cyric.”

Mol gave you and Gale an impish grin before following through with the move you both recommended. She looked immensely satisfied when she knocked the piece guarding Raphael’s God of Lies from the board.

Raphael raised his eyebrows, looking both proud and surprised. “My, the Theskan Double Counter-gambit. Vicious.” He chuckled darkly. “Exactly what I would have done.”

With another self satisfied smirk, Mol removed Raphael’s Cyric from the board completely. “How’s that for Calimshan rules?”

“Brava!” Raphael said, spreading his arms out wide. “Lovely work. I see I was right to make you the offer I did.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

Raphael didn’t take his eyes off Mol. “You will consider it, won’t you?”

Without another word, Mol got up and you watched as she returned to the other tiefling kids behind the bar.

“What a lovely specimen she is,” Raphael said as your eyes followed her.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you turned to look back at him.

He was standing now. “A blushing apple, begging to be plucked.” He mimed the action of pulling an apple from its spot on a branch, his eyebrows furrowed to accompany his conniving smile.

You stepped to the side, attempting to block Mol from his view. “Leave her alone, Raphael.”

He ignored your warning and changed the subject. “The Theskan move suggestion was inspired. I had no idea you played.”

Gale chuckled. “I’ve been known to dabble.”

“He’s not talking to you, purple,” Astarion spat the last word as if it were an insult.

Gale stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Purple has always suited me rather nicely, thank you.”

“Why are you here, Raphael?” you asked. “To play games?”

Raphael’s expression became almost unreadable. “To play the game. The vast lanceboard of souls.”

“Well that doesn’t sound legally sanctioned by the Lanceboard Committee of Baldur’s Gate,” Gale muttered.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “I wish you would explode.”

Raphael continued, this time his voice was overly saccharine. “Don’t you worry about Mol. It goes without saying she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left.”

Gale leaned over to you and whispered, “Ominous, that.”

“Quiet,” Astarion hissed, causing Raphael’s attention to turn on him.

“Now,” Raphael said, placing a hand on his hip and pointing a lazy finger at Astarion, “let’s talk about you. I sense there’s something you want to ask me.”

“I do,” Astarion said, hunching forward as if to make himself smaller, “I have a… proposal… for you.” When you turned to glance at him with wide eyes, he corrected himself. “A proposition! A request. A… deal, I suppose, for lack of a better term.”

“A proposal,” Raphael’s eyes shifted between you two, probably knowing the exact tension that was occurring between the two of you right now.

It wouldn’t surprise you.

He chuckled, but didn’t press further. “If you’re hoping to taste my blood, little vampling, think again. It burns hotter than Wyvern Whiskey.”

“This is serious business,” Astarion tried to sound firm before adding, “devil.”

Raphael smirked at him, but inclined his head to encourage Astarion to continue.

“My old - well… A long time ago, someone carved infernal runes into my back,” Astarion explained. “They are a fragment of a contract. I’d like to know what the full contract says.”

“Hmmmmm…” Raphael dragged out the sound far longer than necessary.

Astarion straightened himself, attempting to look bravely back at the devil, but you saw the way he absently tapped his finger against his thigh. The way he blinked a little more frequently than normal.

You turned to Raphael, annoyed. “Don’t play games, Raphael. Help him out.”

“Oh, such impatience,” Raphael said sarcastically. When neither you nor Astarion took the bait to squabble with him, he continued. “It’s something very important to your master. But is it a love letter?” He looked pointedly at you and you did your best to keep your expression even. “A warning, perhaps? Or a deed of ownership? I could give you all the gory details.”

“So do it,” you growled, feeling extremely protective of the man to your left who’d just bared part of his soul to this devil. And Gale.

“Ah ah ah,” Raphael tsked. “You’ll have to do something for me first. Let me think about it and get back to you.”

Astarion stammered and held his arms out dramatically. “You’ll ‘get back’ to me? This is important, devil!” After a moment, he sighed. “When?”

“Don’t worry,” Raphael said, the cunning smile refusing to leave his face, “I’m motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories - I think yours might be truly exquisite.”

Before you could interrogate him any further, Raphael vanished in a sour smelling puff of smoke.

“Good gracious, that’s foul,” Gale plugged his nose and waved his hand in front of his face.

You coughed repeatedly, shutting your eyes tight to make sure whatever residue Raphael left behind didn’t blur your vision. When you opened them again, you saw Astarion hightailing it out of the small room and across the taproom.

“Astarion!” you called. “Get back here, you heathen!”

As Astarion went to open one of the side doors of the inn to escape speaking with you, he slammed face first into Halsin’s chest.

“Oh!” Halsin exclaimed and peeled the vampire off of his tunic. “My apologies, Astarion, I was just coming inside to check on things with Moonrise Towers.”

Astarion held a hand to his forehead. “It’s like you’re made of cement.”

You caught up with him and witnessed him slump significantly.

“Oh, hello, darling.” His tone was jovial, but his expression was one of disappointment at having been caught so easily.

You placed your hands on your hips. “We need to talk.”

“News of Moonrise?” Halsin asked.

“No, the others are discussing that with Jaheira over there.” You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards Jaheira’s desk, where your companions were still listening to her and hunching over a map. “No, I need to speak with Astarion in private-”

“Excellent reminder, darling,” Astarion said, straightening up and walking past you, over to Jaheira and the others. “We simply must plan out our next move!”

You turned to watch him go and stood next to Halsin, sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of your nose.

Halsin laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Everything alright? I hope nothing troubles the ever growing bond between you two?”

You began walking with him over to Jaheira’s desk. “He’s just being an idiot. He told me something very interesting and I want to talk to him about it more in depth.”

Halsin nodded. “You heard about the night he ran into me in bear form.”

“No, he-” You stopped short and looked at Halsin. “What?”

“There’s the fearless leader these cubs won’t stop talking about,” Jaheira said loudly, causing you to turn away from Halsin and finish taking the last few steps over to her desk.

You approached Astarion, who stared blankly ahead and made no attempt at hiding the large step he took away from you. You rolled your eyes and stepped forward to stand between Karlach and Shadowheart, observing the map in front of you.

“You all have been talking for quite a bit.” You noticed different markings on the map, suggesting different routes to take towards Moonrise. “Have you figured anything out?”

Wyll crossed his arms and blew out a breath. “Only that our opponent seems to be invincible, according to Jaheira.”

“So says she,” Lae’zel placed her hands on her hips and repositioned her feet to stand tall. “She has no idea how lethal we are.”

“Ketheric was a Sharran,” Shadowheart said quietly, lost in thought. “He was building an army of Dark Justiciars beneath this village.” She turned her head to look at you. “I knew my Lady Shar’s influence here was all consuming, but… Dark Justiciars?” Her voice took on a dreamlike quality, “Only the very finest proved themselves worthy of the title. They’ve been silent for years but… an entire army? That must have been a fearsome sight.”

“Yes…” Jaheira side-eyed Shadowheart skeptically. She looked at you and said, “To bring you up to speed, General Ketheric Thorm, the Absolutist leader at Moonrise is a formidable foe that myself, my Harpers, and local druids saw to depose - we witnessed him dead and buried. But he’s returned. Not only does he live again, it seems he is no longer mortal. He has become, as Wyll said, invincible.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel rolled her eyes.

“I don’t fancy his chances,” Gale joked as he integrated himself into the group, causing Astarion to jump again.

“So help me gods, you must stop doing that.”

“Supposedly, the Harpers met Ketheric on the road commanding an army of Absolutists, intent on destroying Baldur’s Gate.” Karlach half smiled, proud to be relaying a new Jaheira tale to you. “Jaheira here saw to putting a fucking arrow through his fucking eye, only to watch the bastard pluck it out.”

“‘Like a splinter,’ in her words,” Wyll added helpfully.

Halsin whistled lowly. “Sounds like quite the nasty rival.”

Jaheira nodded. “He healed right in front of me, and chased us into the shadows. Things looked hopeless, but experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope.”

“Damn right,” Karlach grinned.

Jaheira smiled at the tiefling, then looked around at your entire party. “You are that hope.”

Astarion gagged and rolled his eyes, earning an elbow in the side from Karlach.

“We’ll try our best,” you said.

“I was telling your companions here that while protected by your artifact,” Jaheira went on, “you can infiltrate his forces at Moonrise Towers, posing as True Souls.”

“A risky, but clever move,” Lae’zel smirked. “I like it.”

“If we can find out what makes him invincible,” Wyll said, “perhaps we can strip him of his advantage.”

Jaheira nodded. “Together, we assault his tower and put a final end to this blight.”

Astarion sniffed pompously. “You want to make use of our infection.” He placed a hand on his hip and gestured around with his free hand, “Some of us, not necessarily me, of course, I’m rather enjoying the sun when it’s not currently being banished by the Mistress of the Night-”

“Watch it,” Shadowheart warned through gritted teeth.

“Some of us,” Astarion continued, “want to be cured of it.”

Jaheira watched him carefully. “Any cure starts with understanding the disease. Whatever magic Ketheric’s using to control these tadpoles, it must be at Moonrise.”

“Well,” Gale clapped his hands together, “sounds like we should get a move on if we plan on finding that cure any time soon.”

Jaheira looked to you. “I’ve already shared what I believe to be the best route to the Towers with your friends here.” She nodded her head towards Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel.

“Thank you,” you said. “Ketheric’s days are numbered - I’ll make sure of it.”

The Harper met you with a sad smile. “Without a cure for your infection, your days are numbered, yet you selflessly offer to spend them fighting alongside us. I like you.”

“Isn’t she the best?” Karlach clapped you on the shoulder, grinning, before clearing her throat. “I- I mean after you, of course.” She smiled awkwardly at Jaheira.

Jaheira laughed, then addressed all of you: “I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you survive this.”

Your companions offered their thanks, accompanied by a dramatic eye roll from Astarion.

“Before you go,” Jaheira said, “there’s someone else you should meet.”

“Gods,” Astarion muttered, “we’re going to be stuck here forever if we keep yammering instead of doing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaheira raised an eyebrow, “do you wish to be consumed by shadow?”

“If we have a choice,” Wyll said, “I’d prefer not to.”

“Good man,” she smiled at the warlock before looking around at everyone again. “You’re not our only secret weapon.” She rolled up the map laid before you all and handed it off to Wyll. “Isobel - a faithful cleric of Selûne, and a light in the darkness.”

“Selûne?” Shadowheart wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Why would a servant to the Moonmaiden be all the way out here?”

“You’re lucky she is,” Jaheira gave Shadowheart a look, as if daring her to make another comment on the matter. “She cast the moon shield around the inn. It’s the only reason we’re still alive.” She moved to her right to point at a set of stairs in the small room off the taproom where you’d been speaking to Raphael. “She’s upstairs in her chambers. Tell her I sent you and she’ll see you through the shadows safely.”

“We already have a lantern that protects us.” Shadowheart crossed her arms.

“And I’m sure it’s very fine,” Jaheira said. “But lanterns have a tricky habit of going out when you need them.” When Shadowheart didn’t respond, Jaheira added, “Let’s not spurn what few gifts the gods choose to give us, hm?”

You had a feeling the “gods” she was referring to wasn’t the one Shadowheart had pledged her life to.

“Well I, for one, can’t wait to see what this Isobel has to show us!” Astarion said, suddenly cheerful, and booking it up the stairs.

Your party watched him go.

“What’s with him?” Karlach asked.

“Very hot and cold, no?” Gale agreed. “I mean, more so than usual.”

“He’s being an idiot about something he said,” you sighed. “And it didn’t have anything to do with bears,” you pointed at Halsin before he could say anything.

He simply smiled and shrugged, and followed everyone up the stairs.

“Sounds about right,” Shadowheart said.

Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. “When has Astarion ever spoken about bears?”

“He got drunk on one once,” you laughed. “But it wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about, then?” Wyll asked. “We’ve all said silly things we regret.”

“This wasn’t some silly thing, though” you clarified. “It was kind of important.”

Astarion ran out of a room beyond the balcony looking down into the taproom. “Would you all hurry up? I think I found her.”

You approached him as quickly as you could, trying to catch him off guard and reaching for his hand, but he dodged you and slipped back into the room.

“Astarion!” you called and sped up even more to follow after him.

You and the rest of the party entered into a large room - sectioned off to your right was a wall with two large doorways that lead into what appeared to be a study, complete with looming bookcases, a desk, and a fireplace. The rest of the room appeared to be a bedroom, based on the large bed with its headboard resting against the back wall, and a number of wardrobes. A large door that you assumed led outside stood next to the bed.

“Fancy digs,” Karlach murmured.

You paused when Astarion thrust open the balcony door and revealed a woman with short white hair muttering incantations under her breath, surrounded by candles and white light.

“Now there’s a cleric of Selûne if I’ve ever seen one,” Gale said.

“And just how many of those have you come across?” Shadowheart sniffed.

“Quite a lot in my studies, actually. I’ve read about this one cleric of Selûne who-”

“Stop speaking,” Lae’zel hissed as you and your party made their way onto the balcony with Isobel.

An orb of light appeared in Isobel’s hand and she spun her hands around it, making it grow bigger and brighter with moon magic. High above your heads, a full moon somehow shown down on you, despite Shar’s curse. The eight of you remained silent as she thrust the orb upwards where it met the barrier of the moonshield and reinforced the entire thing with a burst of light.

Isobel looked up to admire her work before coughing weakly and turning around to face you all. “I didn’t realize I had an audience.”

“Really?” Astarion crossed his arms. “I mean, with me, I can understand, but they sound like a stampede of wild gnolls.” He gestured to the rest of you.

Isobel gave him an amused half smile. “Please,” she extended a hand back into her room, “join me inside.”

You purposely let the others go ahead of you and grabbed Astarion’s wrist before he could slip past you again. “I have things I need to say to you,” you said quietly.

“Perhaps later,” he responded, pulling his arm from your grasp and nearly tripping back into Isobel’s chambers.

You rolled your eyes and followed him in, only to be addressed directly by Isobel herself.

“The True Soul who’s come to save us all.” She looked you up and down and smiled. “I’m Isobel. Pleased to meet you.” She finished with a small bow.

“And you,” you returned her bow and saw Karlach mimic it out of the corner of your eye. “We’ve been told you’re the protector of this inn - the banisher of shadows.” You wiggled your fingers as if telling small children about the boogeyman.

Isobel laughed lightly. “Myself and Our Lady are doing what we can to hold the line. I hear you and your tadpole will be our offense.”

“Show us what to slay and it shall be done,” Lae’zel offered matter-of-factly.

Isobel scanned your group thoughtfully, the black paint around her eyes making her irises look piercingly blue. “All of you… free from the Absolute’s influence, yet able to walk among cultists. It’s almost too good to be true.”

“Uh, that it is,” Halsin said. “I, myself, remain tadpole free. Though I seek to help rid this land of the shadows that dwell here.”

“Then Our Lady thanks you most graciously,” Isobel nodded towards Halsin and he looked pleased by her approval. She turned back to you. “I’d be a poor cleric indeed not to avail of a blessing when I see one.”

“Hear that?” Karlach nudged Wyll. “We’re a blessing.”

“We’ll certainly try to earn the praise,” Wyll chuckled.

“Let me guess,” Isobel raised her eyebrows, assessing your group again, “Jaheira sent you all to beg a protection spell off her favorite cleric.”

“You got it,” Gale confirmed.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Karlach added.

“With pleasure,” Isobel laughed.

She closed her eyes as a golden column of light overtook her entire being. Lifting an arm above her head, her entire body turned gold until the light concentrated into only the hand she had raised in the air. She brought it down and held it in front of you, palm facing outwards.

Suddenly, you were all surrounded by the same column of golden light that enveloped Isobel, and a warm calmness overtook your senses.

Suddenly you knew that the shadows would subside and that you all would be bathed in the peaceful light of the moon once again.

Suddenly, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

“Tingly,” you remarked.

“Perfect,” Isobel smiled. “That spell will make you immune to the lesser effects of the shadow curse, which will get you closer to the towers.”

“Thank you,” you said, observing your limbs and noticing how they now vaguely glowed with moon magic. Your companions seemed to be doing the same.

“But,” Isobel continued, “there are places it won’t help - places where the curse is darker. Stronger.”

“And we will destroy these stronger shadows,” Lae’zel lifted her head confidently.

Isobel exhaled slowly. “The cultists are able to traverse even the deepest shadows, though. I don’t know how - the Harpers are trying to figure it out.”

Shadowheart, who seemed to be more interested in the glowing of her limbs than the rest of you, looked up at Isobel with a scowl. “Selûnite magic. Dark Lady forgive me.”

“Good nose,” Isobel said sarcastically. “Like a nasty little terrier.”

Lae’zel snorted. “She already proclaimed herself to be a follower of Selûne. Were you not listening?”

Shadowheart shot her a glare.

“Well, this has been lovely,” Astarion said, making his way to the door leading back into the inn proper. “Anything else we should know before we head off to save the day?” He was already halfway out the door, not bothering to wait for an answer, clearly trying to make a stealthy exit.

You eyed Halsin, who nodded and retrieved the rogue by his arm before he could leave, closing the door behind both of them for good measure.

“Let me go, you humongous imbecile!” Astarion pounded his free arm against Halsin’s chest before Halsin released him and refused to let him move a muscle towards the door. Astarion huffed and crossed his arms, turning his nose up at the rest of you.

“Is he okay?” Isobel asked.

“This is relatively normal behavior from him, actually,” Karlach said.

“But please,” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “is there anything else we should know?”

Isobel thought for a moment. “Ketheric is a frightening man. But you have something he doesn’t: allies worth having.”

You felt a wave of pride wash over you and your companions.

“Daw,” Karlach kicked at the floorboard under her feet. “That’s very sweet.”

Isobel gave her a small smile. “While you’re all busy at the towers, I’ll be sure to-”

She froze.

“Wait. Do you hear that?”

The eight of you strained to hear what she could be referring to.

Astarion clicked his tongue loudly. “I don’t hear-”

Isobel interrupted him. “Something’s wrong.”

That’s when you finally heard it: The beating of wings followed by a man landing hard on Isobel’s balcony. He wore the uniform of a Flaming Fist, and the way his wings moved seemed new and unnatural. He stood and retracted the black, feathery abominations, before exhaling and walking into the room.

“Hello, Isobel.”

“Marcus,” Isobel breathed, “is that you? What’s happened to you?”

Halsin leaned forward. “I take it, you know this man?”

“I’ve been blessed,” Marcus said before Isobel could answer. “You can be, too. Come with me and you can hear all about it from Ketheric himself.”

“Isobel,” you said, not taking your eyes off Marcus, “who is this man?”

“He’s a Flaming Fist!” she exclaimed. “Or was. He came with the others when we created this haven.”

“There are more Fists here?” Wyll muttered.

Marcus addressed Isobel, “And I thank you for your hospitality.” Then he turned towards you.

You felt the familiar squirm of your tadpole being probed. Much to your dismay, Marcus’s voice rang out inside your head.

“True Soul, my instructions are clear: take the girl to Ketheric.”

You wrinkled your nose, hating the sensation of his unwanted presence in your brain. In an act of defiance, you needled further into his own mind.

A haunting face swam into your mind’s eye, its instructions vivid: “nothing is more important than bringing the girl - alive.”

Isobel must have seen the sour expression on your face because she turned towards Marcus aggressively. “What’s going on? If you have something to say, say it.”

“Marcus is trying to kidnap you, Isobel” you narrowed your eyes at the Fist. You looked back at your party, all of whom were already getting into battle positions. You turned to Marcus and took one step forward, bending your knees and dropping into a fighting stance. “Looks like we’re going to have to fight our way out of this one.”

Isobel’s eyes went wide.

“Pathetic,” Marcus spat. “The Absolute sees all - your treachery will be punished!”

“The Absolute,” Isobel repeated before scowling. “Of course.” She gave Marcus a pleading look when she said, “You can’t believe them, Marcus. Ketheric will never give you whatever it is you’ve been promised.”

Marcus chuckled darkly and spread his hideous wings. “He already has.” He looked at her dead in the eyes. “Time to go, Isobel.”

With that, he reared backwards and roared loudly, far louder than any human of his size should be able to manage. You all stood in horror as you heard screeches and roars from Winged Horrors that flew abruptly into the inn and Isobel’s room. Already, you could hear shouting and screams from down below.

Isobel lifted a hand into the air. “Moonmaiden, guide my hand!”

Before she could cast anything, Marcus let out another piercing roar, knocking you all off guard.

Gale, who’d been standing out of his range, ran forward, a spell already prepped in his hand. When his touch connected with Isobel, she vanished; invisible.

“Good thinking, Gale!” you shouted, pulling your lute off your back and strumming some inspiration in his direction.

Karlach and Lazel were already knocking back the Winged Horrors with their weapons, while Wyll thrust his rapier towards Marcus. Halsin shifted into bear form and growled at the Fist before taking a slash at him. Shadowheart summoned a circle of Spirit Guardians and rushed into the fray.

“We need to check on the others!” you shouted above the din of the battle. “I think they’ve got it covered in here!”

Astarion twirled a dagger in his hand. “Excellent idea, my darling,” he smirked before thrusting open the doors out into the inn.

To your shock and horror, you both found Raphael standing there, nonchalantly checking his nails.

“Ah!” he said with fake surprise when he finally acknowledged you both standing there. “Just the lovebirds I was looking for. Remember that favor I mentioned earlier?”

“Right now?!” you cried in disbelief, gesturing to the chaos around you. You witnessed Jaheira shift into a jaguar and swat a Winged Horror out of the air.

Raphael chuckled. “Oh, I think right now is the perfect time.” He raised his hand.

You and Astarion exchanged frantic glances.

“Wait!” Astarion shouted.

Raphael snapped his fingers.

And everything went black.

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ninii-winchester · 5 months ago

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Behind Closed Doors (Part 1)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, not proofread, and tbh I don’t even know where this is going.

A/n: new series (hopefully) First time writing an AU. Don’t let this flop please🙏🏻

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean Winchester is the CEO of Winchester Co. for the past four years. He’s the oldest son of John Winchester, the founder and owner of Winchester Co., a real estate business. His office corner suite on the top of the floor in the building with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline. The décor is modern yet understated, featuring a large mahogany desk, plush leather chairs, and abstract art on the walls. Behind the desk is a sleek bookshelf lined with awards, framed contracts. A smart wall panel controls lighting, climate, and the room’s privacy settings.

On the top floor other than the CEO’s office is his personal assistant’s work space. It’s a sleek, efficient area with a streamlined desk equipped with multiple monitors for scheduling, managing calls, and overseeing the flow of appointments. The space is minimalist, with soft lighting and ergonomic seating, offering both a professional and welcoming atmosphere for visitors waiting to meet the CEO

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” Y/n said entering his office. Dean looked up from his computer and glanced at the woman standing in the doorway with a styrofoam cup in her hands. “Got you your coffee.” She said holding it up. The man nodded and she entered the room completely, moving to hand him his daily dose of caffeine, which has been the routine for the past four years.

Y/n reached his side and he took the cup from her hands gracefully and placed it onto the table before pulling her down onto his lap. Y/n gasped at the sudden pull and he grinned up at her.

“Good morning baby.” Dean leaned up to place a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re late.” He commented resting his hands on her hips.

“Sorry boss, my boyfriend is a bit clingy in the morning.” She replied with a mocking smile. “Acts like a baby doesn’t let me leave when I spend the night.” She added with a pout. Dean barked out a loud laugh and it was moments like these that he was thankful for having the whole floor to himself.

“Acts like a baby, you say?” Dean feigned curiosity. “Well tell him you’re my mine and I need you here on time.” Dean mock reprimanded her. Y/n rolled her eyes at his teasing.

Dean Winchester is a private man. He doesn’t like expressing his emotions or talk about his personal life. He’s a workaholic and is married to his work. He had been working at this company ever since he was in college. While perusing his degree in business he did part take in business matters, worked as an assistant for his father. He’d worked hard for this title and four years ago he was appointed at the CEO of the company when his father stepped down.

When Dean was appointed CEO, he clearly needed an assistant too. He confided in his best friend, Castiel. Although Cas also had a degree in business administration he was not interested in taking over his father’s business and was rather interested in charity work and philanthropy. Castiel had suggested Dean to appoint Y/n as his PA, since he knew her from college and she had remarkable skills as well.

Although Dean did appoint her on Cas’ insistence he was a bit skeptical of her skills she needed a ‘recommendation’ to get a job. For the whole year, Dean made her work relentlessly, putting her skills to the test and demanding a high level of performance to prove her worth. And she did. With her hard work and extremely remarkable skills she impressed Dean, more than professionally.

In a typical cliche manner, the grumpy boss fell for his assistant. Though persuading her was a challenge for Dean. She was hell bent on keeping things professional and not wanting to cross the boundaries at her workplace. She was a hard nut to crack but eventually Dean worked his charm on her, showing her beyond his grumpy boss personality and wooing her with extreme gestures.

Now the two had been dating for almost three years and the only person who knew about them is none other than Castiel, the one who introduced them. Even Sam was not in on the secret.

“Can I go back to work, now?” Y/n asked getting up from his lap but he kept his hold firm on her hips, not letting her leave.

“No.” Y/n pouted in response, she hated when he did this, holding her hostage while at work . She really wanted to keep her personal and professional life apart, not wanting anyone to find out or even think for a second she’s sleeping with her boss.

“Dean.” She scolded when he kissed her pouty lips.

“Relax sweetheart, nobody’s coming up here anytime soon.” He shrugged and she sighed loudly, indicating her defeated even if she was reluctant. “Besides, I’ve got news for you.” Y/n raised her brow in curiosity urging him to continue. “We,” he traced her arm with his finger. “are going on a vacation.” Dean beamed at her.

“A vacation? We?” Y/n furrowed her brows. “Who’s we?” She questioned, clearly not understanding the situation. Is this a office vacation or the top officers vacation or just the two of them.

“You and me. A week in Bahamas.” Dean replied casually.

“A week? You want us to take a leave at the same time? It’d rise suspicion.” She whispered alarmingly.

“Baby, if I’m on leave then you’re on leave automatically. Besides, I’ve asked Cas to manage for a few days for me.” Dean replied. “We both have been working our ass off for the past four years, I think we deserve a vacation.” Dean grinned at her and for the first today, she agreed without interjecting. She’s just as much of a workaholic as Dean. She had taken a day off here and there but never a complete vacation. “Besides I’m dying to spend some time quality time with my girl without her grilling me about work.” Dean sassed and she smacked his arm lightly making him laugh.

“I’m not gonna slack off at work just because I’m dating you.” She said matter of factly. “And I do think we could use a vacation.” She finally agreed making his smile broaden. “God, if anyone could you see right now, Mr. Grumpy Winchester.” She giggled when he rolled his eyes. He loved it when she teased him about being a grumpy ass to everyone else except her but he would never accept it in a million years.

The door swung open and sauntered in Castiel in the flesh. Y/n quickly jumped off of Dean’s lap but relaxed when she saw it was Cas.

“Ever heard of knocking, Cas?” She taunted her friend, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Ah lovebirds. Ever the cautious.” Cas sassed back and Dean snorted earning himself a glare from her. “Don’t stop on my account, just wanted to deliver these, personally.” He said holding up two flight tickets to Bahamas.

“Thanks man.” Dean said getting up from his chair and getting the tickets from his friend. Castiel shot Y/n a teasing grin and she rolled her eyes at him, clearly unbothered by his teasing. He thrives in teasing her because she was the goody two shoes in college and the two had become friends after being paired up for an assignment, so seeing a different version of her around Dean, leaves him anything but amused.

“You are a bad influence on the both of us.” Y/n said feigning an angry glare at Cas.

“Oh dear Y/n, I know.” Cas winked and Dean laughed at his best friends shamelessness. The trio’s camaraderie was a reminder of how personal and professional lives often intersect in unexpected ways.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

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midnightmischief10 · 3 months ago

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welp. i'm posting this unedited and EXTREMELY self indulgent pedro pascal x reader fic. i have more written, but i will only post the full thing if ppl are also as sick and twisted as me.

hope who ever reads this, feels a little more seen bc i am SICK (well not really HHAHAH) of all the pedro character ddlg fics!! i just wanted to write something more realistic? idk welp, here it is! (not in its entirety:P )

Si no te hubieras ido

pairings: Pedro Pascal x Reader

warnings: age gap, drinking, reader is in their 20s

getting to work on a set like The Mandalorian was a dream if you were being honest. no, you weren't some high end actor, or a famous director, just someone part of the production crew, doing things like planning, writing, hell even editing. you'd do anything to just be a part of a project like this.

interactions with the actors were also common in a job like this, but apart from just guiding them through certain scenes and how they should look, you really didn't cross the boundaries that weren't professional. It was really nice to admire them though. Getting the occasional chat with big shot superstars was so cool and always something to brag about to your family even though they weren't supportive of your career choice. You didn’t end up a doctor or lawyer like they wanted, but hey! You did something you loved.

It was honestly a very normal day in the workplace. You were working in the art department as usual, helping make sure the vision that the director wanted was really coming through. Being behind the scenes for such big projects like these was really something. Your admiration for the process really grew getting to do all the behind the scenes work, it was such a nice feeling seeing the thing you along with many others, worked so hard on being televised was something special.

You weren't the overly ambitious type, but the thought of directing something sounded really cool.

You continued on, designing what the director wanted on a few scenes we’d be working on in the following weeks.

Lost in your work you didn’t expect anyone to come up to you for anything, you weren't the art director so it wasn't usual for people to come to you. Unbeknownst to you, you felt a sudden hand on your arm, not roughly just to get your attention.

you look up and woah…why the hell was Pedro Pascal standing right behind you.

"uhm, I'm sorry to bother you, you seem busy, but I've been meaning to ask, would you like to go out for a drink sometime?" Pedro asked.

huh? what…the…fuck…?

it caught you off guard.

Firstly, why was Pedro Pascal even looking for you? Because I mean you? of all people he could ask something like that, it was you? A man notorious for not having any sort of relationship, at least not public, was standing here with you asking you to go out for a drink.

you didn’t even think about your response before the words fell from your mouth.

"oh..uhm…Is this some kind of prank?"

you dumb BITCH WHY WOULD U SAY THAT???

was what you thought immediately after.

In your defense, you were in disbelief because what the hell was Pedro Pascal, a very prominent and influential actor, asking you out for drinks? I mean the interactions you both have had were merely professional and work related so why?

he looked confused at your answer, maybe even a little insulted, which was not your intention.

"shit I'm sorry I didn't mean to sound rude I'm just in a bit of disbelief" you let out an awkward laugh to soften the previous response and got out of your seat to face him properly. how do you even respond to a question like that, you had no idea that's for certain.

He stared softly at you and started, "no I'm sorry, that was very sudden haha. no need to say yes I just wanted to see if you would." His response was genuine and he wore a soft smile as he did.

God, was he really handsome up close.

To be quite honest, you always found him super attractive. But he was the internet’s daddy so it wasn't just you who felt attraction towards him. And sure, you might've dabbled in the idea of maybe even going out with him, but you were realistic with yourself.

But here you are now. Getting asked out on a date with this hunk of a man.

You were still lost in thought, trying to reflect on what was occurring and what came out of Pedro’s mouth.

He spoke again, "Sorry, just forget it ev-"

"no no, I mean I'd love to, who wouldn't want to go out for drinks with you, I'm just not all that special ya know?" you were being honest. You weren't some super sexy model or a renowned actor, you were just some girl working on the same set as Pedro.

Also, you were much younger than Pedro.

"I'd beg to differ." he said quite frankly. He smiled that sweet and tender smile of his and you couldn't help but think, for an older man he was sure fine.

you were daydreaming again at this point when Pedro spoke again,"so...is that a yes then?" it snapped you back to reality. It was so odd to see him so nervous over something like this, but being in the know of most things Hollywood, everyone who knew Pedro also knew that he had social anxiety so it must've taken a lot out of him to even ask you out

your heart raced, “yea- yes, I'll go for a drink with you.” you smiled, but if you were being honest you were really nervous too. What exactly did he see in you? Sure you were kind and respectful, but that's how you were with everyone. Pedro felt way out of your league to even grasp the idea of flirting with him, I mean come on. Who would even think about flirting with an A-list celebrity, especially someone way way WAY younger than he was and someone who wasn’t on any level to him.

he had a huge smile on his face, he seemed so content. “Great, should I get your number while I’m at it?” He pulled out his phone and handed it to you. You slightly grazed his hand when he did and it caught you by surprise.

His hands were so big, and you didn’t realize till just then how much of a height difference you two had.

You put your name and number, your hands were trembling a bit as you did so.

“here you go. so…when should I expect that drink?” you tried being coy to play off the fact that you were actually freaking out.

he smiled and laughed, “what about tonight then?”

that was quick

“oh. uhm yeah sure, i get off at 5, would like 8 be okay.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll pick you up, wear something nice.”

“Do I not look nice now?” you said sarcastically.

“No no, you always look great, I’d just like to see you in a dress.” He looked at you with so much love, his sweet smile still plastered hard on his face.

You couldn’t help but blush hard.

Has he always looked at me?

“I’ll send you my address then, see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” and he stepped out.

what the fuck were you getting into

~~~~~~~

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #self indulgent #unedited

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cokou · 8 months ago

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𝚂𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚘 + 𝙰𝚌𝚎 × 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

sum. Forcing your boyfriend to adopt a new fuzzy friend into the household, maybe you've spent too much time with the fuzzy. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. Fluff. Jealousy. Law's and Ace's a bit longer cause, favoritism. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. New writing style! We could never go wrong with loving fuzzy and cute animals!! Dont transfer or translate in any platforms,this is my only account, will not be cross posted anywhere! masterlist♡

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝙻𝚊𝚠

After joining the Heart Pirates and dating their captain, your number one entertainment is to soend time with Bepo and Law. While Bepo does feel embarrassed for your acts to him, you absolutely felt like he's a huge cuddly bear more than a scary one.

He even complained to Law himself that he should get you your very own fuzzy friend since you've bothered Bepo so much he couldn't face you anymore without getting embarrassed! Law, the asshole he is, refused to get you one.

You very much enjoyed the idea and pestered Law into getting you one yourself and have some dignity for Bepo, then, he finally agreed. You both visited a pet shop, and just with it's entrance you couldn't leave anymore. Inside were full of cute animals waiting to be adopted, you just wanted to take them all.

"(Name)-Ya, what about this guy?" He pointed and peeked into the small cage, and there, was a white fluffy kitty who has just woken up from its slumber. Yes, perfect! It looked so cute and cuddly! You already fell inlove with it just by looking! "Awh, look at how much she resembles Bepo!"

You both took her back, and upon your arrival you set her free in her new home, the sub.

For the past few weeks, your attention had been glued to your new friend, not wanting anything on your path. It was so bad you had more pictures of her than you and Law combined! And the way you trip because you watch her instead of where you were going.

Law on the other hand, was definitely not feeling it, he felt like the white furball just replaced him with everything! You shared a bed with her, she gets your attention, she gets to be with you all day! If he were honest, he would blurt out how jealous he was for the furball.

In which, you suspected him for. "Law, are you really okay? You've been quiet and only staring since you sat down."

"I told you I am okay, don't worry." He finally let out a sigh after realizing you weren't with the kitten anymore, that was until he heard meow, and behind you was the kitten. You picked her up and setted her into your lap, receiving a piercing glance from Law.

"Are you okay? You're doing the stare aga— ohhhh..." You had finally realized that he was jealous, not by anyone, but the kitty that you've been giving attention to.

"What?" "Don't tell me you're jealous of our little furball!" You laugh at him. "What?! W-why the hell would you think that?"

"Law, it's quite obvious...come here, lay with us." You invited him with open arms and he jumped right into you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝙻𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢

Ever since Chopper had joined the Straw Hats, you couldn't take your hands off his cheeks and head, continuesly patting and hugging him from his cuteness. Even your boyfriend, Luffy had agreed!

Chopper was definitely nice to have around, when you're stressed? You pat him. When you need to let it out? Hug him. He's just so cute and fuzzy! The way you'd kill people when you hear them talk bad about Chopper, because you refuse to let people think that he was a monster.

Eventually Luffy thought that you and Chopper became best friends of how you two always chatter about everything, at first he taught it's what makes the crew more unique.

But eventually, after a month, he noticed how you'd been glued with the reindeer all the time. He taught it was normal since you two were best friends but, this time you might have crossed the line.

"(Name)!! I'm hungry, can you cook meat?" He asked you with the usual big smile on his face. "Oh no Luffy, could you ask Sanji? I'm hanging out with Chopper today.." Bad Idea, you never refused to cook him meat even if you were busy. He knew you enough to just refuse to cook meat for him. The way he frowned as you waved him and went into the dock with Chopper.

Later that night, when everyone was asleep, you felt someone tugging your clothes. "Pst, (Name)." It was Luffy.

"Eh? Luffy? Why are you awake at a time like this.." you groggily whispered. "Just come here" You spproach his area and he pulled you with him.

"Finally some peace between us" He gave you a big grin and placed his hand on your back. "It's been a while you know— you've always been with Chopper."

"Luffy, wh— are you jealous of Chopper?" You came with a conclusion that maybe, just maybe he got jealous of your constant hanging out eith Chopper.

"Hmm...is that how you name it, (Name)? If so then yes!" You plopped your hands on his chest and gave him a giggle. "You could've said so earlier, i would've spent more time with you, Lu"

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝙺𝚒𝚍𝚍

It was 100% your idea, you had convinced Eustass to bring company of an animal into the Victoria Punk. Not only because you had no one to talk to other than Killer or Kidd himself, but simply because it was boring out in the ship.

Lucky for you, Kidd agreed to get you one of your choice, in exchange of...things. So you decided to get a Cat of your choice, simply after declaring it's recruitment into the Kidd Pirates. You gave every ounce of your attention to it, even if it means opening the door of the bathroom when you take a shower just incase the furball could come inside and pet itself across your legs.

Well that only happened twice, what DID happen was Eustass peeking at you while taking a shower, which happened about 90% of the time. You didn't mind though.

Back to our fur friend, it bothered the cleaners of the ship on how they'd find furry hair on every furniture they clean. Kidd even complained that your shared bed was full of cat fur and that it was sticking onto his skin! But you couldn't careless.

Everytime you had a chance to sit, the cat eould latch itself into your lap, preventing you from standing up and doing business. Because standing would mean disrespectful!

Now we have an angry Eustass, whenever he wants you to be around him your excuse would always be 'But theyre on my lap' and 'im playing with them give me a while' He was getting fed up with both you and the cat itself.

So you're at the comfort place in the ship, with Kidd having a staring contest with the animal on your lap, whilst you read a book a chill. Then suddenly he spoke up, "Okay that's enough." He stood up, took the cat and placed it outside the room.

"Why'd you do that for?!"

"Oh please, you have all your attention on that animal since it stepped foot into the ship, give it a break." He scoffed.

"Or you're just jealous because i give it more attention than you?" Oh, NOW you're dead. "JEALOUS?? Why would i be jealous over a stupid furry?!" He was. He was 100% jealous.

"Okay first of all, it's not a stupid furry! And second of all, you seem pretty defensive, if you're jealous just say it."

"WHAT?! No im n—"

"—Which, you definitely are, come here you big baby. I'll give you the attention you deserve." You cutted him off, now you're gonna be in big trouble.

"And i expect the attention to be filled, get on the bed fucker." It would definitely be a longggg night.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝙰𝚌𝚎

He IS the one who suggested to get a furry friend. He'd definitely be the type to adopt a puppy, and then proceed to name it one of the most basic names ever. You could see the disappointment in Marco's face when he found out he named the precious puppy 'Oreo' because it's fur was Black AND White.

He had gotten you the precious puppy as a gift for your birthday as he found out you're into having pets, and your reason? They were CUTE as hell. He had gotten you a puppy who's fur is at the brownish side.

"Hmm, what should we name him?!" "OH! OH! I know! Brownie!"..."Are you being serious, Ace?" You looked at him, praying that the name he suggested was only for sarcasm, but you were taken aback from his response. "What do you mean babe? Of course i am! It's such a perfect name for him!"

"It's... one of the most basic names I've ever heard. " You spared him a straight face, sending shivers down his spine. "Okay, okay I'll think of another name! Hm..how about Cookie?" Yeah he doesn't have naming privileges anymore.

In the end you both sticked into the name you had chosen for the puppy. Everything was going great for the first week, you buying him all the stuff he needed, the most high qualited dog food, and even his own supplies had beaten yours! With an average of spending atleast thoudands of Berries a week.

The second week hadn't been different at all, except for the fact that now that the puppy was growing, it became even more plsyful towards you. Meaning you, had soent almost all your time with it. On the other hand, your boyfriend Ace, ended up getting bitten at the hand for trying to take away it's toy that you gave.

"Babe! Do you see those eyes that's looking at me right now?! It looks like it's gonna KILL me!" Ace climbed up on a chair when he entered the house unannounced and the dog had decided to chase him for dear life.

"Come one Bae, he won't hurt you like at all! He's an angel!" You petted the dog, causing him to sit. "Yeah if it was opposite day I would've believed you! look at him, it looks like it's gonna bite my limbs of one by one!"

"Come on Ace! He won't bite you!" As soon as you reassured Ace thst nothing eould happen if he stepped down, he tried lowering his left foot down, causing the dog the fully bark at him. "SEE?!" Ace's voice was almost crying.

"Bad dog! You know he's the one who brought you to me right?! He's basically your dad! Go to your bed!" The dog whimpers then climbs it's bed.

"You know, after this i expect a full week of attention all mine! Okay?!" Ace pouts and settles himself down from the chair. You gave him a reassuring kiss, "I promise,"

©Cokou 2024, all works made by me.

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gremlinmodetweeker · 4 months ago

Text

A Step Through Time, A Step Closer

More summoned!König. I got a great idea from @callofdreams and so I had to write that out. Essentially, why does König have an Austrian accent? Time to find out.

TW: allusions to sex, having children/breeding

Wordcount: 3.2k

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

A Step Through Time, A Step Closer

“Hey König,” you asked, “why do you have an accent?”

König swiveled his head to see you. He put down his ancient tome and crossed his legs, quirking his head to the side.

“An accent?” he asked, “what sort of accent?”

“I dunno. It’s like…” you snapped your fingers a couple of times, “is it German?”

“German?” he balked at the suggestion, “I’ve never been to Germany!”

“Then why do you speak like that?” you put down your phone to properly talk to him.

“I would suspect it’s how the people I spoke with talked when I was first visiting this realm,” König shrugged.

“So you’ve visited my world before me?” you crossed your arms, “I thought you didn’t know anything about this world.”

König chuckled and shook his head, “No, far from it. I’ve seen your species come far. I remember first hearing of your species discover fire, and since then I had to watch.”

You nodded, “So you’ve seen the whole of human history?”

“Not entirely,” König admitted. He paused for a moment, then slowly rose to his feet and held out a hand, “Here, let’s go on a quick trip. Why don’t I show you my home?”

You grinned and stepped up, letting him take your hand in his. You both took a step forward, and in an instant the world gave way and you fell through existence.

All around you, fragments of visions, memories, thoughts and feelings fluttered around you. You could see a baby’s first breath in one shard, and in another a man’s last. The world tilted on its axis round and round, making you feel as though you’re spinning in impossible directions, your body breaking apart and being put back together in thousands of ways. You could see the end of the existence at the edge of your vision, but you were quick to turn your head away. There were some things humans weren’t meant to see.

As you did, you came through the veil to step into an autumn-touched glade. Around you, tall pines stretched up to the skies before plummeting down below the blanket of red, gold and brown leaves. You turned around, and in the center of the glade there stood a meager cottage. This was a tiny thing, barely more than a couple of rooms squashed together, with one being more of a sunroom than an actual room. The whole building looked tired and bedraggled, lost to time itself.

“Here, Summoner,” König drawled from behind you, “is where I watched the first of your kind explore these lands.”

You looked at this tiny shack, so diminutive in nature that it was hard to believe a being as great and powerful as König once called this home.

“It’s pretty small,” you commented.

König sniffed, “On the outside.”

“So it’s like a tardis?” you asked.

“A what!?”

“A tardis!” you chirped, “it’s a Doctor Who thing. It’s small on the outside, bigger on the inside?”

You didn’t have to see König to know he was rolling his eyes as he replied, “Certainly, Summoner. Whatever brings you satisfaction.”

“Oh come on König,” you groaned as you walked towards the flimsy screen door, “you see what I’m talking about, right?”

“I don’t even know what Doctor Who means,” König grumbled, begrudgingly following you to his home.

You narrowly missed a hole in the stairs up to the porch and turned to glare at König. He only shrugged and followed you up to the door. He knocked twice, and the door opened for you.

From an outside view, the little hunting lodge looked as though it was on its last legs. On the inside, the house was a resplendent rustic mansion. You peered around as you took your feet off in the foyer, admiring the wide open stairwell, panel windows giving you a beautiful view of the forest around you.

König offered you a hand to lead you further in, which you gladly took and followed him to a regal red velvet ottoman set that crowded around a great ursine rug. He happily set himself down and kicked up his feet on the footrest.

“Nice, no?” he chuckled as you followed his example, cuddling into his side as you did so. He happily slung an arm over your shoulder.

“How did you get the idea for this place?” you asked as you looked up to see a chandelier made of antlers.

“I wanted a simple place away from human eyes,” König explained as he gestured to the windows of the forest, “but then I found it too small for all my things, so I made it bigger. I kept expanding more and more until, well, here we are.”

“It’s incredible,” you murmured as you rubbed your hands over the soft velvet.

“Well I’m glad,” König chuckled, “because this will be our home.”

You whirled around to him, “What?”

“This is our home, Summoner,” König repeated patiently, “or it will be when the military no longer suits you.”

“Oh, König, this is nice but…” you hissed, “I need to stay with my parents. I don’t even know where this is.”

“In the Breenzerwaldgebrige forest,” he replied, “Austria. In the year 100 AC.”

You stared at him.

“Why are we in the year 100 König.”

“Well,” König faltered when he saw your expression, “I thought you might find it interesting to see my life around this time! I mean, it’s how I know that I’d be fated to you.”

“You knew how?” you scoffed, “don’t tell me you’re about to walk through that door I swear I will actually-”

“Easy Summoner,” König held up his hands, “easy. I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

You sighed and slumped into him, “Thanks, König. I know sometimes I can be a bit over dramatic but I should’ve known you’d never-”

“I come home in a couple of hours.”

You blinked.

“König.”

König nodded happily.

“König that’s not happening.”

“Oh but it is!” König jostled you jovially, “it will be a grand time, Summoner! I assure you, this is all according to plan. This is the timeline! Everything is already done!”

“König this is fucking nuts,” you shook his shoulder off of you, “I can’t meet your past self! It’ll cause a paradox, or it’ll break the space-time continuum, or-or-”

“It’s in my memory,” König tapped his temple with one oil-sheened talon, “it’s already happened. You can complain as much as you like, but it’s already been done.”

You tried to wrap your mind around it, but you couldn’t fathom how that worked. It seemed impossible. How did it work? That wasn’t how time worked, was it?

“Now look, I need to make dinner for us all, so why don’t you turn on the tv and watch a show?” König tried to soothe you, “go on, watch something. Relax. I assure you, it’ll be fine.”

You nodded dumbly, not even bothering to ask how he had electricity in the year 100 AC. Instead, you weakly took the remote from his hand and turned on the tv. König left the room to the kitchen, leaving you to your own devices.

After watching a couple hours of baking shows from different dimensions, you heard the door unlock. Your König walked into the room just as the old König passed through the door. Before you could get a good look at him, your König thrust a cloth overtop of the old König’s head.

The younger König stumbled back and padded at his face, then slowly looked up to see your König.

He said something in an ancient language, to which your König responded in kind.

They spoke briefly before your König stepped closer and pressed his palm against his younger form’s forehead. They both stilled briefly, then your König pulled back and motioned for his younger self to follow.

“Come, you must meet our summoner!” he called as he walked over to you.

You turned off the television as König slumped down by your side, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your shoulder affectionately.

The younger König stilled by the fireplace. He looked towards his older self, then down at you. His eyes were not the soft, loving eyes you knew so well. This look was filled with hatred, rage and disgust. He looked like he’d tear you apart for the simple mistake of existing in his presence.

“I don’t want this,” he hissed.

“I’m sorry, but this is what happens to us,” König shrugged, but you noticed he tucked you into his side more securely, “this one summons us by accident, actually.”

“And we don’t eviscerate that worm on the spot?” younger König scoffed.

“No,” König had you in his lap now to hold you securely, “they are our mate.”

The younger König was silent. His talons curled into fists, then dropped, then clenched again. His claws grew longer and longer until he was stabbing into his palms over and over again, dripping oily black blood onto the floor.

“We do not die here,” König announced, “you know this. And our summoner does not die here either.”

“I refuse to bow before such a creature,” young König hissed, “I won’t take such a simple pest to be my master.”

“They are perfectly capable,” König declared, “and they do not subjugate us. They couldn’t if they tried.”

You couldn’t help glaring at him briefly.

“So we take someone weak and pathetic to have control over our every waking moment?” young König sneered as he stepped forth, his talons clacking on the hardwood.

“This summoner will bring us joy and success in time,” König bristled around you, “and as I said, they have no control in this. We simply provide them our services because we want to.”

Young König glanced between the two of you with narrowed eyes, “And what compels us? What could this pathetic whelp possibly provide us?”

König shuffled slightly on the sofa, “They are part of the greater plan.”

Young König scoffed, “How could a human be of any significance?”

“Because they are the herald.”

Young König stared at you. The malice slowly ebbed from the corners of his eyes, his hatred washing away as he saw you for the first time. He looked at his older counterpart, who only nodded slowly.

“A human is the herald?” his voice softened.

“Indeed,” König chuckled, “they will bring in the new age. But of course,” he ruffled your hair, “they do not understand any of this yet. We both have to be patient about that.”

Young König stepped closer, no longer predatory but with animalistic curiosity. He sat down by your side and glanced to his older counterpart for confirmation. With a nod, he slowly extended a talon to you.

You winced back reflexively, but your König was quick to shift on the sofa so that you sat between his legs, your chest against his back as he relaxed back on the armrest. You were effectively caged between the two, with one soothing you and the other exploring your form.

Young König carefully picked up you hand in his. His talons had retracted back into his fingers, more so than your König usually did. It seemed as afraid as you were of being harmed, so too was he afraid of harming you himself. The curved slits of his pupils looked over your form again before he carefully placed his palm against your thigh.

It was the same, familiar chill you got whenever your König touched you, if a bit more hesitant.

He withdrew his hand and looked at it with wonder.

Finally, he spoke, “Humans are warm.”

“They’re wonderful to hold,” your König told him, “and every night we sleep with this one.”

“This one is our mate,” young König’s voice lightened, “and tell me, do we get to breed them?”

Your König shook his head, “No, not yet. Soon though.”

“Soon?” you glared at him.

“Soon,” he crooned as he pressed himself into the crook of your neck, “and we will have wonderful children.”

You shuddered under his touch, “What? I’m not ready!”

“You will be soon enough, Summoner,” König promised with a kiss before turning to his counterpart, “you’ll get your mate soon enough. They are the only one to summon us, so there’s no reason to be alarmed once you feel yourself being drawn forth.”

Young König nodded, his eyes wide as he took in your interactions.

He looked back to his older form with a wanting expression.

“We aren’t lonely forever,” he finally whispered.

“No,” König promised, “we aren’t. And it’s a beautiful thing.”

“Can’t you leave Summoner here?” young König asked pitifully, “please, can’t we change time once more?”

“I’m afraid I’ve done enough today as is,” König sighed, “but I assure you, we won’t be lonely. Now,” he grabbed your shoulder, “I think we’ve spent enough time here. I’ve done what I needed to do, so I am afraid we must be leaving soon. But, I did promise you something, didn’t I?”

You motioned for him to keep going.

“My voice,” König chuckled, “you wanted to know what shaped my voice. Come on a walk with me and I’ll show you.”

You looked at young König. All anger was gone, now replaced by sad longing. He seemed so pathetic. How could this be an avatar of chaos when he looked so helpless?

“Can’t we stay a bit longer?” you asked.

“Please do,” young König insisted.

“No, we can’t,” König picked you up as he got to his feet, “I’ve shown you my home, I’ve talked to my younger self, so now we must answer your question.”

“Why can’t you stay?” young König asked, raising to his feet behind you, “please stay. I don’t want to be alone again. Please, please stay!”

Tears welled up in the younger avatar’s eyes, but still his elder counterpart shook his head.

“You won’t be alone forever,” he clasped a hand over his younger self’s shoulder, “be patient. Watch these humans, listen to them. Learn what you can from them. Do not let them take this home, do not let a single one inside, but go and be amongst the humans. Go so you can prepare for this one,” and with that he looked down at you lovingly.

You smiled back up at him, but you could feel your face fall as you looked at the younger König. He seemed so desperate for just another bit of company. You hated seeing him like this. This König, even if he’d never met you before, was still a part of your König.

You scrounged through your pockets for a gift, but as your fingers touched a couple of hard candies König took your hand.

“We must go,” he said quietly.

When you left the home, you dropped the candies by the door before you closed it behind you.

You jogged up to König’s side and took his outstretched hand to walk comfortably by his side.

“The candies were delightful,” König looked down at you as a blushed crawled up to your ears, “what were they, anyways?”

You looked at the trees around you instead of your partner as you squeaked out, “Butterscotch.”

König nodded, “That’s what it was. I’ll get some soon.”

“You remembered it that well?” you laughed as you stepped over a shallow puddle.

König nodded again.

You fished around in your pocket for a moment before you were able to fish out another yellow-orange candy. You pressed it into his hand firmly and nodded, “There.”

König looked down at the candy, wonder in his eyes.

“Thank you Summoner,” he murmured as he unwrapped it and threw it up to his hood, where a tentacle reached out, grabbed it, and promptly retreated into the void beneath.

You shuddered.

“Does something trouble you?” König asked politely.

“Nope,” you took his hand and started walking again, “nope you’re good, you just… You do you, König.”

“I’m more than glad to do so,” König grunted as he stepped onto a worn dirt path, “this way, the village is just on the right.”

You walked beside him, happily taking in the beautiful fall forest as König led you along. You passed over a small log bridge at one point, where you played pooh sticks for a few minutes before König tired of the silly game and urged you to follow him again. From there you trailed along until you slammed into König’s open palm, knocking the wind out of you in an instant.

“A little warning next time,” you wheezed as he muttered an apology.

“Now Summoner,” he spread out a hand before you, where you finally saw a few small smoke trails whispering through the cobalt blue sky, “this is where I learned to speak. This is where I first learned what being human meant.”

In the distance, you could see people working in fields, welding great scythes that glinted in the sunlight.

“See there that young maiden?” König pointed out to a brown-haired woman carrying a basket, “she was the one who taught me to speak. And that man?” he pointed to a tall, strapping man with long blond hair tied back between his broad shoulders, “that is how I learned to look human.”

“Is that why you’re so big?” you asked curiously.

“Summoner,” König drawled, “I can’t fit into a smaller form.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” König intoned sarcastically, “now anyways, these are the settles of what would eventually become Austria. I enjoyed my time here, in the end. I learned to get close to locals. It took a few generations of trying, but eventually I stopped terrifying the locals and I was accepted into their community.”

König stood tall and proud as he reminisced, “I became a mayor many times, and other times a noble. Once even an advisor to a king, but I can’t remember the name. I would rise up the ranks amongst the people, then disappear back into the wilderness to reset. I experienced life in the fields and life in the courts.”

“Why would you ever go back to being a peasant?” you scoffed.

“The antics of the court can grow tiresome,” König sighed, “the same petty battles waged over and over. The humans around me grew smarter with time, but they were never a threat. It was like batting at flies for decades.”

You hissed, “Okay, that does sound pretty awful actually.”

“So it was here that I learned of your kind, and in turn, what you would need,” König turned to face you, “but it was also here that I learned what love meant. I had many a folly, but,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “not a single man or woman I ever bed could possibly compare to the likes of you.”

You blushed furiously, but the smile that formed was impossible to beat down.

“Now, since you understand where my accent comes from, do you think you’re satisfied for the day?” König placed his hands on your shoulders and swayed with you in the autumn breeze.

You shrugged, still not quite over his comments.

“Then I think we should head back, my dear,” König pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you were sent tumbling through the void.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universe Stories

96 notes · View notes

flooofity · 3 months ago

Text

okay uhm first time posting my writing ever so sorry for any mistakes or if it doesn’t make sense…

———

newt x reader! (no gender is applied im pretty sure)

warnings: none, just fluff

summary: you bandage up newt and then go on a walk or something + he nags you to take better care of yourself

—————— (changed this from the bow cuz of the black background💔)

You're in the Medhut, nose deep in a medical book, the pages illuminated by the dim lantern light. Just as you're absorbed in a paragraph, you hear someone step into the hut.

Looking up, you see Newt, the Second-in-Command, leaning casually in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, ankles crossed.

"Now, why am I not surprised to see you here this late?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Setting your book down, you turn toward him with a small smile. "What happened this time?"

He shrugs, strolling over to sit on the edge of a nearby bed, leaning back on his palms. “Fell and got a splinter in my hand.”

You sigh, reaching into a nearby drawer for some tweezers, a cotton swab, and a bandage. “Alright, let me see it.”

He extends his hand, and you take it gently, steadying his palm in yours as you focus on the small sliver embedded in his skin. Carefully, you work the splinter out, dabbing away the bit of blood before placing the bandage over the spot. His gaze stays fixed on you as you work, silent and watchful.

“Thanks,” he says softly, withdrawing his hand once you finish.

“Anytime,” you reply with a small nod, tidying up your supplies.

Newt tilts his head, glancing at you with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Why are you still here so late anyway?”

You let out a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just reading up on a few things and straightening up.”

He studies you a moment, expression softening. “When was the last time you actually got some sleep?”

“Last night?” you say, though it comes out more like a question. You add quickly, “Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he mutters, pushing himself off the bed and standing in front of you. “But I already do.”

You bite your lip, looking down at your hands, unsure how to respond. He steps forward and crouches slightly, so he's eye level with you, his gaze steady but gentle. “You know you don’t have to do everything by yourself.”

You open your mouth, then close it, hesitating as you look down, a few strands of hair falling across your face. “I know, I just…”

Newt watches you closely, voice softening even further. “y/n.” He pauses, his eyes holding yours in a quiet, grounding intensity. “You need to rest.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you nod. “Okay,” you murmur, not even trying to argue.

“Good,” he says, a hint of relief in his voice as he lightly places a hand on your upper arm, helping you up. “Come on.”

As he guides you out of the Medhut, you both make your way through the quiet Glade toward your hammock, the night air cool and refreshing.

“When’s the last time you even ate dinner?” he asks, casting you a sidelong glance.

You shrug. “I dunno…”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Bloody hell, you need to eat more. And sleep. And take breaks. I swear, it’s like you’re always going non-stop. It’s a bit worrying.”

You glance up at the stars, then look over at him with a faint smile. “Okay, point taken.” Leaning your head against his shoulder, you sigh. “Y’know, we should take more walks like this at night… it’s peaceful.”

Newt looks down at you, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “You sound exhausted,” he chuckles, glancing back up at the night sky.

You let out a quiet laugh, closing your eyes. “Yeah… probably wouldn’t be doing this if I were thinking straight.”

“Probably not,” he agrees, amusement in his voice.

With a small chuckle of his own, he continues to walk, steady and comforting, as you rest your head on his shoulder, the two of you moving through the serene night, side by side.

———————

ermmm that’s the end sorry if this is messy i literally never post on here… i’ll get better at this eventually

#newt x reader #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt #tmr fandom #tmr x reader #tmr #newt tmr #newt tmr x reader #the maze runner #tmr books #the maze runner x reader #tmr x you #the maze runner x you

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i-only-ever-asked-questions · 1 year ago

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Map of Soho Good Omens Season 2 - Part 3 (the intersecting street)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 Update: Map and pictures further down now have Lucky Snake, and the description of both the Lucky Snake and The Chinese Buffet Restaurant have been updated too.

We don't know the name of the street that crosses Whickber Street. It starts between the market and the furniture store, and after a crooked crossing of Whickber St., it continues between the bookshop and the Dirty Donkey Pub until it ends on Wardour Street. On that upper block we have: -A. Z. Fell & Co. The bookshop has a backdoor that leads to this street. -Bilton Scaggs Hats and Caps This shop has been here for centuries. Originally Bilton and Scaggs was a publishing firm that printed among other things "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, witch." Neil believes they went out of business in the late 19th century and the hat makers took over. Their shop was called Bilton and Scaggs Milliner & Haberdasher for a while and eventually they changed to Bilton Scaggs Hats and Caps. But honestly, only Aziraphale knows the whole story.

On the other side of the street we have: -The Dirty Donkey We don't know how long this pub has been in business, but we know that it was already there in the 40's when the zombies used it to hide and spy on the heroes. And then in 1967 Crowley used a private room to set up the caper to steal holy water from a church. The set was also used to set up two of the pubs where Gabriel and Beelzebub met. Both scenes were filmed on the same day! After the tour, the first episode of Season 2 was screened inside the pub for those lucky enough to win spots. The Dirty Donkey Pub has also appeared in Neil's "We Can Get Them for You Wholesale" and "Sandman: Overture." In the show, one of the elevators to Heaven and Hell opens inside the Dirty Donkey, maybe this supernatural ability allows it to show up in many different Neilverses ;) -"Model" This is Mrs. Sandwich mysterious establishment. Nobody really knows what happens there. We know the upper floor has lovely pink curtains, presumably for her girls who also love coffee. -Will Goldstone's Magic Shop Named after Will Goldston (not sure why an extra "e"), a stage magician who wrote many books on magic. The store existed in 1941 when it was run by Pat (who met a gruesome end at the hands of zombie nazis). Will Goldston himself died in 1948. So, was he the owner of the store and Pat just an employee? Did someone use his name? Or is that the reason behind the additional "e", to claim it wasn't him? We don't know. In current times it is operated by Mutt.

This street ends on Waldour Street and because we don't see much of it, I included those shops in this post: -Chinese Buffet Restaurant (updated) The English sign just says "Chinese Restaurant", Google translate gave me "Chinese Buffet Restaurant" for the sign on either side (if you look closely both sides say the same thing). There is no other writing that I could see so I would say that we don't know if it has another name or where is it written (inside maybe?). @embracing-the-ineffable raised the question of how do we know Mr. and Ms. Cheng own the restaurant. The truth is that we don't know for sure. We have assumed it probably because Aziraphale and Ms. Cheng are in front of the restaurant when he invites her to the meeting, but for all we know she was just walking on the street when they met. The Chengs could easily own the Herbal Pharmacy or the Grocery Store. We just don't know for sure -Lucky Snake (updated) To the right of the restaurant (our left) there is another store with yellow walls and red lanterns. It was brought to my attention (thank you!) that this is the infamous Lucky Snake we see in Aziraphale's typed list of shops. In Season 1 it was called "Oriental Delights" but this season it is a grocery store. -Herbal Medicine and Pharmacy - Traditional Chinese medicine appointments To the left of the restaurant (our right) we have the herbalist/pharmacy. This is written in English while "traditional medicine appointments" is written in Chinese. There is no other name outside either.

Turning around and looking towards Whickber Street, we can get a peek all the way to Great Windmill Street, between the news agency and the market. -Windmill Theatre Today it is called Windmill Soho but the name Windmill Theatre is equally recognizable. In 1941 it was owned by Mrs. Laura Henderson. The theatre was famous for 1)not closing at all, even during the heaviest of bombings and 2)its motionless nude girls (tableaux vivants) called the "Windmill Girls". Because of this, it used the motto "We Never Closed" (although people modified to "We Never Clothed"). In the set, the doors are not props, they are the real doors to the internal docks of the studio, which honestly it is very clever.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #good omens 2 set #good omens soho #A. Z. Fell & Co.#Bilton Scaggs #the dirty donkey #mrs. sandwich #will goldstone's magic shop #Mr. and Mrs. Cheng #Waldour st #Windmill theatre

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studywithtarun · 2 months ago

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Declutter and Reset for 2024

Every new year we create this wall filled with hope and joy creating impossible goals and tend to fall behind very quickly, so here in this post I am going to share my methods to avoid this very exact incident repeat this year.

Goals :

Goals are most important step to create a perfect and productive year, unfortunately the most neglected every guide somehow skips this and hence here I am sharing the write way to create your goals!

Instead of impossible goals we have to create possible chunks of impossible goal, for example instead of lose 12 kg this year instead try to break it as lose at minimum half a kg a month for first 4 months then increase difficulty because no complex action can be achieved in sudden efforts.

Checkpoints :

Try setting up a checkpoint system it works like a cross balance and reminds you of where you stand from your goal.

For example : for me it is like my first check points is in April 14 ( Tamil new year) then September 2 ( Onam) December 13 ( Karthikai) so these are other festivities which I use as a checkpoint. Create a similar setup according to your belief system or holiday system🤗

A partner :

Now to keep you in track set up a trust system in which you select a group of people to check after your progress you can do the same to them so it creates a good structure.

You can use your family ( parents or siblings) please don’t use very close friends both why must screw away with both forgetting initial plans ( cause it happened with me 😭) and you can also use Tumblr as a partner just post and use a tag #1stepcloser so I can also look and motivate myself to keep going 😓

Plan :

Just having goals is not going to help us but a workable plan distributing work thought year and one that you can actually follow and take benefit of is what you need.

Let’s be frank here you as well as me can’t follow a schedule every studytuber or studygram communities throw at us they are edited as no actual living normal human can follow it so create on that suites you ( try using AI like ChatGPT to form your schedule and I am saying it works like magic)

Analyse and Rebrand:

Believe me rebranding doesn’t just mean changing goals routines etc it your social media along with friend circle.

First identify friends who are pulling you down the ones who are using you and social media creators who are wasting your golden time

Remove them from preferences from your social media settings, break the friendships that are one sided that are hurting you emotionally and financially

Now what I wrote sounds intense but it is all required because all this create your personality and true rebranding can happen when wrong influences don’t deviate your focus! So it your turn to work a way to detangle yourself from drama and try to achieve your max capabilities.

Try new stuff :

Try new stuff, hobbies anything that is new and can build a better portfolio or can increase your focus etc.

Don’t hesitate because unless you try you might never know how to fells after doing it. For example I first hesitated to post in Tumblr I had account for a 3 month by then but did note dare to start posting yet now when I post I feel better in a way I know that my work is helping someone and also I used Tumblr to vent some anger that helped my very much so ya try try try

The post is going too long so we will continue this topic in another post also please check out this template just designed to do whatever I just said above it is completely free - https://stwtarun.gumroad.com/l/ultimate-new-year-kit?layout=profile

Byeee besties

Your study buddy

Tarun

#study #study aesthetic #study blog #study motivation #studyblr #study notes #studyinspo #studyholic #studyspo #study study study #study tips #new year #decluttering #rebranding

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siriuslysatorusimping · 8 months ago

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Before I Love You - 2: Broken Lens (Gojo Satoru)

It's finally happening. I'm finally posting it. It's part 2 of Before I Love You. In all honesty, I've been writing this since I posted the first part, but I finally nailed it down. But, same as part 1, this is angst with a hopeful ending.

Summary:

“You were a shitty boyfriend.” A frown began to form on his face, but he stayed silent as she continued, “But you were always a good friend. Not surprised you’re a good teacher, too.” He had always been a good friend. Admittedly, he’d been a decent boyfriend before he cheated on her because he was supposedly afraid she was going to break up with him. But that wasn’t really the point. Despite everything, she knew for a fact he was never a bad person. Him caring about his students and their success didn’t surprise her at all, especially after finding out that he’d taken Megumi’s friend under his wing. His being shit at a relationship didn’t make him an inherently bad person. Even at her angriest, she’d never thought that about him. It was one reason she’d missed him so much after everything fell apart. *Also posted on AO3

Part 1 | Kiko's Masterlist

Broken Lens

2017

Her cousin fidgeted in her seat while they watched the game unfold.

“I feel fine,” the teen grumbled petulantly. “I could’ve played–”

“One more game isn’t the end of the world,” Rinko reminded, patting Mai’s knee. “Quit sulking, or I’m not buying you kakigōri after.”

Megumi snorted, rolling his eyes when Mai punched his shoulder.

“Maki’s doing fine,” he pointed out. “If you were out there, it wouldn’t be fair.”

A light tap on her shoulder caused her to turn, her eyebrows rising at the sight of Gojo smiling at her hesitantly. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, not since the day she’d agreed to hear him out. Even though he’d asked if he could sit with her at the soccer game, she hadn’t been surprised when he didn’t show. Part of her assumed she wouldn’t see him again once he realized his apology hadn’t worked like he thought.

“Hey,” he greeted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, had a few things come up for the last couple games. I know– we didn’t make plans or anything, but I– still felt bad because I said I might– but yeah. I– I heard they were good games?”

Mai crossed her arms as she released a frustrated puff of air. They’d both been losses, but closer than they would have been without Maki as the goalie. Rinko flicked her ear.

“Last warning about that pout,” she informed her. Turning back to Gojo, she shrugged. “We didn’t make any plans to meet. You have a life.”

“I also didn’t wanna seem like I’m stalking you,” he joked, rubbing the back of his neck. He pointed to the seat next to her, the question clear in his eyes. “Is it okay if–?”

She shrugged again, scooting closer to Mai to give him room to sit without being too close.

“Hi, Gojo-sensei,” the teen greeted, leaning around Rinko.

“Hey,” he replied, giving her a giant grin. “How’s the ankle?”

His question brought the pout back to her face, her nose scrunching petulantly.

“It’s fine,” she claimed, rolling it a few times. “But–”

“Still tender.” Rinko tucked a stray hair behind her cousin’s ear. “She still has a limp when she tries to run, so she’s sitting one last game out to be safe.”

“I’m fine,” Mai denied, dropping her head back and sighing dramatically. “Doesn’t even hurt–”

“Because you totally weren’t hobbling like a penguin after you tried practicing last week,” Megumi interjected, snickering.

“Shut it!” Mai hissed, elbowing him. “You’re such a jerk. Why are you even here?”

“Because I’m not leaving him alone at my apartment just so you don’t have to deal with him,” Rinko stated drily, sighing at the teens’ bickering.

She’d agreed to let Megumi stay with her while his parents were out of town on an anniversary trip to celebrate their first year of marriage. His step-sister had opted to stay with a friend instead, which she understood since the girl still didn’t really know her yet.

At least Toji and his wife seemed happy. She never thought she’d see him find someone after how devastated he’d been after Megumi’s mom died. Even he had said he couldn’t see himself with anyone else and that his one-year-old son was more than enough to keep his schedule and heart full. But when he’d met his current wife, his tune had slowly begun to change, and Rinko had cackled at the heart-eyed looks he sent in the pretty woman’s direction whenever he saw her.

So, listening to the teenagers argue was a small price to see her broody cousin so happy for the first time in almost thirteen years.

But that didn’t stop her from leveling both of them with a warning glare. They shrank away, and she raised her eyebrows when they each mumbled that the other started it. Sometimes she could swear that Mai and Megumi were siblings with how much they fought.

“They act like siblings,” Gojo mused, practically echoing her own thoughts, and she turned her head to see him watching the exchange in amusement.

“Hardly,” Megumi snapped, rolling his eyes. “She wishes she had a brother as great as me–”

He yelped when Rinko reached around Mai and grabbed his ear, yanking on it.

“Last warning,” she warned firmly before looking back at Gojo. “Cousin’s kid. Toji’s.”

She doubted he remembered Toji since he’d only met him once, very briefly, before they even dated, but she was surprised when he nodded in understanding.

“Big guy, yeah?” he asked. “Paramedic?”

She blinked at him slowly as she wondered how the hell he remembered that.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, clearing her throat.

Their attention moved back to the field when they heard yelling, watching as the ball flew just past Maki’s fingertips.

“Shit!”

Her eyes snapped to Mai’s face as the girl swore, narrowing when she rolled her own.

“It’s normal, Rinko,” she argued. “You can’t tell me you never swore when you were my age.”

“Have you met my mom?” she asked incredulously. “Try that in front of your Aunt Yuzuki next time you see her and see what happens.”

The woman almost never failed to flick her nose or ear hard if she heard her swear. Especially if the words slipped in the bakery.

“Aunt Yuzu would never be upset with me,” Mai stated smugly, and Rinko had to admit that, in most cases, the girl was right. “Or Maki. She loves us too much.”

“She loves my dad, too,” Megumi said, frowning as he watched the ball change possession over and over. “But he says Aunt Yuzu can be pretty scary. He tries not to swear around her.”

True. The first time he had in front of her mother had resulted in the mountain of a man yelping like a small child as the small woman pinched his ear.

“You won’t use that language in my bakery,” she’d ordered, yanking him down to her height so she could glare into his eyes. “Do you hear me, Toji? Absolutely not.”

Her mother was truly a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be.

“Always liked your mom,” Gojo murmured, giving her a sad smile. “Guessing she’s probably not my biggest fan anymore, though.”

Not exactly, especially since Rinko had burst into the bakery through the back entrance with tears streaming down her face just hours after she and Gojo broke up. The questions of why she wasn’t enough had spilled out before she could stop them, a broken record of grief finally consuming her at the loss of not only her relationship, but also one of her best friends. Her mother had closed the shop early and sat with her, holding her tight as she let herself fall apart.

No, admittedly, Gojo Satoru was one of Kurisaki Yuzuki’s least favorite people.

“You rank higher than Naoya,” she offered quietly, watching him grimace at the mention of her half-brother. There was no point in lying to spare his feelings. “But- that’s probably about it.”

“Fair,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Much as I hate it. Fair.”

2011

“Mom!” she croaked as she slammed the door open, unable to force herself to care about making a scene. It couldn’t be too busy. The holiday rush was over.

“Mom, I need you!”

Yuzuki’s concerned face peeked around the corner from the front, her expression dropping at the sight of her.

“Darling?” she asked, her eyes filling with concern. “Sweetheart, I thought you were in Tokyo–”

She shook her head, the sobs breaking free as she collapsed forward.

“He– Mom, I–”

She felt her mother’s arms around her, pulling her up and ushering her into the small office. Gentle hands pushed her to sit down in the old chair behind the desk.

“I’ll be right back, darling,” Yuzuki murmured, squeezing her. “Just let me close the shop.”

The familiar sense of guilt clawed up her throat, but for once, she found it easy to shove away. She just wanted her mom to hold her and tell her she would be okay. She wanted someone to choose her for once. Even if her mother was the only person who ever would.

Lost in her own mind, she barely noticed her mother slip back into the room. She stood when prompted before crawling onto the woman’s lap, curling in on herself. Burrowing into the comforting embrace, she made no effort to stifle the guttural sobs. A sharp ache had spread through her body, starting in her chest, and she gasped for breath. She swore her lungs would give out.

“Tell me what happened,” her mother whispered, her hand rubbing her back. “What happened, my gem?”

Her jaw trembled as she lifted her head, the words spilling from her as she explained in broken whispers. Forcing herself to vocalize the harsh reality that had all but slapped her in the face the previous evening—to admit that she’d been a fool. The fact that she’d allowed herself to be lied to. That she’d been stupid enough to believe he wanted her.

“Mom,” she choked, her chest aching. “I wanted to believe– I thought that I– why am I not enough?”

The question that sat in the back of her mind her entire life. The question of why she’d never been enough. Why her father chose to discard her before she was even born. Why he had spent the entirety of her adolescence calling her a mistake.

She’d been able to shove the questions down. Ignore them. Pretend that it didn’t matter because things were going well. Because her father had decided she was worth his time. Because she had a boyfriend who cared about her. Had chosen her.

She’d let herself believe she was enough.

Life was quick to remind her that despite what she might think, she would always just be an unwanted mistake. To remind her that in the end, she would be discarded and forgotten.

“You are enough, my gem,” Yuzuki murmured, running her fingers through her hair. “More than enough. You are my most wonderful blessing. And just because someone else doesn’t see your worth does not mean that you are any less.” She wiped her tears, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Do not let someone else’s broken lens distort your view of yourself.”

“It hurts, Mom,” she cried. She clutched her chest, desperately wishing she could reach inside and rip out whatever was causing the excruciating pain. “Why does it hurt so much? Why won’t it go away?”

“Because you’re heartbroken, darling,” her mother replied sadly. “I know it hurts. I know it does. And I wish I could take it away from you so you didn’t have to feel this way. But it will go away. Just give yourself time.”

2017

They watched as Maki dove to stop the ball, her fingertips catching it just in time to stop it from going in. As she threw it back into play, Mai’s breath hitched, stress clear on her face as she watched her twin play.

“Deep breaths,” Rinko urged, rubbing her back. “I know you want to be out there.”

Maki wanted her there, too. They both played better when the other was on the field with them. The pouts she received that morning as they complained were more evidence of how much they relied on each other.

“If we lose, Maki’s gonna blame herself,” Mai mumbled, a deep frown causing her forehead to crease. “And it’s not her fault–”

“Not yours, either,” Megumi cut her off. “The team’s gotta be able to win without you sometimes.”

There was the almost scarily mature kid Rinko knew and absolutely adored.

“Plus,” he continued, shrugging, “you wouldn’t play well with a limp, anyway. Then you’d both be blaming yourselves, and you’d probably get hurt again, too.”

“Smart kid,” Gojo noted quietly as Mai let out a reluctant sigh and leaned her head on Megumi’s shoulder. The latter flinched but said nothing else. “How much time has he spent with you?”

A lot, especially since the twins had basically moved in. She hadn’t realized when she moved to Tokyo that she’d end up being the twins’ safe haven, too. It started when the twins begged her to come to their soccer games. Then, they begged her to let them stay the night with her after. From there, they just started showing up any time their parents fought, or they didn’t want to go home.

At this point, they spent more time at her apartment than with their own parents. She kept them safe, fed, and made sure they did their homework, so Ogi stayed off her back. It helped that her father had had a talk with his younger brother.

She’d already spent a lot of time with Megumi and Toji. He’d needed someone to keep an eye on the kid occasionally while he worked, which had been a small motivator for her moving in the first place. He couldn’t take the kid in the ambulance with him, but Rinko’s manager didn’t care if he sat in the breakroom and read a book.

And ate her damn cookies.

Either way, the twins showing up on her doorstep often meant that they spent more time with Megumi and Toji than their father ever intended. It also meant they got to have a cousin closer to their age.

They’d grown close, even if they wouldn’t admit it aloud. The kind of cousins Rinko had wished for when she was their age. While she and Toji had gotten along, their age gap had prevented them from being too close since he’d been married and had Megumi by the time she reached her teens. But he and his first wife had been safe people for her when she had to spend time with her father’s family growing up, and now, she could do the same for the twins. At the very least, she was someone who supported them when it came to chasing their passion.

Mai screamed, startling Rinko from her thoughts in time to see Miwa Kasumi score.

“Let’s fu– GO!” Mai screeched wildly, startling a few people around them. “MIWAA!”

Her heart swelled, watching the teen’s eyes light up excitedly while she cheered for her friend. She needed to see that the entire team didn’t rest on her and Maki’s shoulders.

“Looks like we might have a game on our hands,” Gojo noted. “Miwa is one of the students who asked me to come to that game a few weeks ago. Good kid. Seems a bit ditzy sometimes, but she’s actually really smart.”

Rinko turned to see him grinning at the field, pride clear in his expression. He waved back when the teen acknowledged him after she’d waved at Mai, a clear blush creeping up her neck as she quickly sprinted to rejoin the game.

“Miwa has a crush on Gojo-sensei,” Mai whispered loudly, smirking.

Not surprising. She imagined that most of his students probably had a crush on him. He’d always been one to attract that kind of attention. All he had to do was flash a smile and bat his pretty eyes, and people would turn into mush before him.

She hadn’t been immune to it, either.

“That’s not–” Gojo’s ears turned pink, and he pushed his shades up. “I mean, I don’t encourage– I just wanna support–”

“We know, sensei,” Mai snickered. “Miwa only asked you to come because we’d heard you went to the baseball game to support Muta-senpai and Kamo-senpai. You’re one of the only teachers who will show up. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

His ears went a shade darker as he cleared his throat uncomfortably. He gave Rinko a sheepish smile when Mai’s attention moved back to the game.

“I– I didn’t ask her to– say any of that.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he muttered. “I promise I’m not–”

“You were a shitty boyfriend,” she cut him off, speaking quietly so the kids wouldn’t hear. A frown began to form on his face, but he stayed silent as she continued, “But you were always a good friend. Not surprised you’re a good teacher, too.”

He had always been a good friend. Admittedly, he’d been a decent boyfriend before he cheated on her because he was supposedly afraid she was going to break up with him. But that wasn’t really the point. Despite everything, she knew for a fact he was never a bad person. Him caring about his students and their success didn’t surprise her at all, especially after finding out that he’d taken Megumi’s friend under his wing.

His being shit at a relationship didn’t make him an inherently bad person. Even at her angriest, she’d never thought that about him. It was one reason she’d missed him so much after everything fell apart.

A small, hesitant smile overtook the frown, and he nodded slightly.

“I– I try to be,” he murmured, moving his gaze back to the field. “Just– wanna be a good influence for ‘em. And I– yeah. I try to be a good teacher. Worked on– a few things over the years. For– me. Like to think I’m better than I was in college.”

2011

“You need to sleep.”

She nodded absently as she stared down at her notes, her bottom lip firmly between her teeth while she tried to commit the definitions for endomysium and perimysium and epimysium to heart.

“Rinko-chan.” Gojo’s upside-down face crowded her vision when he leaned over her from behind, his eyes boring into hers. “I saw you sitting here twelve hours ago and you look like you haven’t moved once. Have you eaten today?”

She blinked slowly, letting his words sink in. Twelve hours? Impossible. She’d sat down in the little study nook maybe an hour ago. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she scowled when she saw he was right, she’d been there all day.

Finals were going to kill her.

“Take that look as a ‘no,’” Gojo concluded, closing her books and pulling her to her feet. “You’re not gonna learn that shit by staring at it until you go blind.”

“Not how that works,” she countered, rolling her tired eyes. “Gojo, I need to–”

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked sternly, his eyes narrowing at her when she shrugged. “Thought so.”

“I need to–”

“Eat,” he snapped, shoving her things in her backpack and heaving it over his shoulder. “And sleep.” He grabbed her wrist and began dragging her out of the library. “You’re as hopeless as Shoko sometimes. You won’t pass except out during your exams if you keep this up.”

While he had a point, it seemed rich coming from someone who had a near-photographic memory.

“You don’t even have to study,” she whined petulantly, leaning onto him as his arm wrapped around her waist. “S’not fair, ya know. The rest of us have to cram–”

“You’re smarter than you think,” he argued, rolling his eyes. “You’re gonna be fine. But only if you don’t starve yourself first. Crazy to me that someone who loves food so fuckin much would go so long without it like this.”

As they exited the library into the cool night air, her stomach growled.

“Can we–”

“Ramen, yeah,” he cut her off, grinning when she perked up. “That place you love so much that’s open late? The others said they’d meet us there once I dragged you outta your little study cave.”

2017

Warmth and excitement swirled in Rinko’s chest as she stood on the platform, the twins bouncing excitedly beside her.

Right on time, the train came to a stop, passengers slowly exiting to the sound of the monotone automated voice thanking them for trusting them with their travels.

“I see her!” Maki exclaimed.

Her mother emerged swiftly, a grin on her face, her bag over her shoulder, and her eyes searching for them through the crowd of people.

“Aunt Yuzu!”

The twins darted forward, almost tackling her to the ground.

“My sweet girls!” Yuzuki cried happily. “It’s so good to see you, dears.”

Rinko couldn’t keep the smile from her own face as they approached.

“How was the trip?” she asked, taking her mother’s bag and slinging it over her own shoulder. “No issues?”

“None at all,” the woman replied, releasing the twins and enveloping her in a tight hug. “Hi, my gem.”

“Hi, Mom,” she murmured, relaxing into her embrace. No matter how much time passed, her mother would always be home for her. “It’s good to see you.”

Yuzuki tucked a strand of hair behind Rinko’s ear as she leaned away, her hand resting on her cheek while her sharp eyes assessed her.

“It’s good to see you, too, my gem. You look well.”

“Thanks for coming all this way.”

“Anything for my most wonderful blessing,” her mother hummed, turning back to the twins. “And my favorite girls!” She squeezed them tightly. “Are my little bakers ready for this weekend?”

“Of course,” Maki replied as they led the way out of the station.

“Thanks to you, the soccer team’s booth will be everyone’s favorite!” Mai gushed. “No one else stands a chance.”

“It’s not actually a competition,” Rinko called. “And this isn’t an excuse for the two of you to just eat your weight in cookies, either.”

“Don’t worry,” Maki replied, turning to walk backward. “We’ll only eat half our weight!”

Yuzuki snickered, meeting Rinko’s eyes briefly.

“Oh, my gem, you’ve taught them so well.”

The twins flit around her kitchen, following her mother’s instructions while they prepared enough cookies to feed armies.

“You’re doing wonderful,” Yuzuki praised, watching Mai mix the dough for the matcha cookies.

Maki retrieved a pan from the oven, an excited grin on her face as she picked up a miso peanut butter cookie from the tray and took a large bite.

“At least wait until after dinner,” Rinko scolded lightly, sighing when Mai grabbed a cookie as well. “Or not.”

“They’re too good not to eat at least one while they’re fresh,” Maki argued, huffing slightly when she burned her tongue. “You’re coming by tomorrow, right? Both of you?”

“Of course,” Yuzuki replied. “I wouldn’t miss getting to see you celebrating all this hard work.”

“Before I go to work,” Rinko confirmed. She couldn’t take another day off after she’d taken the entire weekend so she could be home to help with the baking. “I’ll be there.”

“You should give Gojo-sensei some cookies!” Mai exclaimed with her mouth full. “Miwa says he’s got a pretty big sweet tooth.”

Rinko tensed, avoiding her mother’s questioning eyes as she narrowed her own at Mai. She hadn’t mentioned Gojo to her mother, and she’d hoped that he would never come up in the conversation, but she knew better. The chances of her mother not running into him at the festival tomorrow were slim, especially since he would check the twins’ booth at Miwa’s request.

“I don’t see why I would–”

“Because he always sits with you at our soccer games,” Maki interjected, grinning widely as she addressed Yuzuki. “One of the teachers at our school has a huge crush on Rinko.”

“Huge,” Mai agreed dramatically. “You should see the way he looks at her–”

“That’s enough,” Rinko ordered. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’re not talking about this.”

The twins didn’t know the extent of her history with Gojo, and she had no intention of telling them, either. They didn’t need their image of him shattered. But they noticed that Gojo had started attending their games more often and always chose to sit with her, and they refused to let it go.

“But–”

“I’m not giving your teacher cookies,” Rinko snapped, clenching her jaw. The twins deflated slightly at her tone, and she released a heavy sigh. “I can’t be there long, anyway. I’ll only have time to drop by your booth before I have to get to work.”

Her mother hummed quietly while they cleaned her kitchen after their baking marathon.

The twins were fast asleep on their futons in the living room, their quiet snores telling Rinko how exhausted they truly were.

“So,” Yuzuki began, side-eyeing her carefully, “Gojo Satoru is a teacher now, hm?”

Rinko sighed, she knew this was coming.

“Apparently,” she replied hesitantly. “Ran into him at one of their games a few months ago.” She waited for her mother to speak, fidgeting uncomfortably with the sponge in her hands. “Look, I know what you’re gonna say–”

“I don’t tell you how to live your life,” Yuzuki stated calmly. “Or who to spend your time with. You’re an adult–”

“I’m not getting back together with him.” Finally meeting her mother’s eyes, Rinko silently pleaded with her to understand. “I’m not. This isn’t– he wanted to apologize when he saw me, but he knows that it doesn’t erase what happened. He sits beside me sometimes at their soccer games, but it’s nothing more than that. I just–”

“You’ve missed your friend,” her mother whispered, giving her a sad smile. “I know, sweetheart. He was your friend first before everything happened. Just– I’m so proud of the woman you’ve grown into over the years, and I just– I worry about you spending time with someone who hurt you so deeply. I don’t ever want anyone to make you question your worth like that ever again.”

Rinko couldn’t blame her mother for her concern. Not after the countless quiet mornings they’d spent in the bakery together, where her mother helped her learn how to mend her broken heart. The too-early hours when they giggled and joked as they prepared to open the bakery, the late nights where she sobbed uncontrollably in her mother’s arms when it became too much. When she slowly began finding herself and who she wanted to be. Those moments that had cemented themselves as some of her most favorite memories. Some of the best and worst times of her life. She learned about herself, learned about her mother, and they’d grown so much closer because of it.

Yuzuki released a deep sigh, wrapping her arms around her and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“It would make me a hypocrite to tell you that you’re wrong for allowing him a chance to apologize,” she mused. “Since I convinced you to give your father a chance to make things right, and that ended up being for the better. Just– just make sure that your lens stays intact, my gem.”

“I will, Mom,” she promised, leaning her head on her shoulder. “I know who I am now. I won’t let someone else change that again.”

It had taken her a long time, but she’d finally realized that the way others treated her wasn’t her fault. The way her father discarded her when she was a child wasn’t on her. The fact that Gojo had been too much of a coward to talk to her instead of seeking out someone else to boost his own ego hadn’t been on her.

Not only that, but if she really thought about it, she hadn’t been ready for that relationship, either—not really. They’d both still had so much growing up left to do.

She could almost say she was grateful because she’d been forced to dig deep and, in her mother’s words, repair her lens.

The trouble now was making sure she didn’t let someone else crack it again.

2012

“Pass me the bench scraper, darling.”

She pursed her lips and handed her mother the tool, watching as she expertly sliced the cookies from the cold log of dough.

Working in the bakery more often had served as a great distraction. Helping out during a rush was never the same as the relaxed early mornings they had before they opened. She’d come to look forward to the quiet moments again. The pot of hot tea soothed her mind as she sipped idly, listening to the consistent thud of her mother cutting the cookie dough.

“How was dinner with your father?” Yuzuki asked, her gentle voice melding with the methodical tapping as she cut the butter cookies.

Dinner with her father had become a monthly occurrence. He’d agreed to take turns between Tokyo and Kyoto, and the previous weekend had once again been her turn to travel. She’d finally reached the point where the train ride didn’t feel like she was ripping her chest open with the memory of that first dinner months ago.

“Not so bad,” she admitted reluctantly. “Naoya’s still a little shit — I won’t change my opinion on that — but Naobito can be… tolerable, I guess.”

“Well,” Yuzuki grinned mischievously as she spoke, wiping a bit of flour on her nose. “Noaya has always been a little shit, darling.”

“Mom,” she gasped dramatically, grabbing a towel and cleaning her face. “I can’t believe you’d use that language in your bakery!”

They dissolved into giggles, completely ignoring that she had sworn first.

When they finally calmed down, their chests heaving as they caught their breath, she leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. An overwhelming warmth filled her chest when her mother’s arms wrapped around her, squeezing lightly.

It was almost five in the morning. They would be opening in a little over an hour, and the scent of fresh bread had already begun to fill the air. Her stomach growled at the thought of the croissants her mother would half-heartedly scold her for swiping. She couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be than right here.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Hm?” Yuzuki ran her fingers through Rinko’s hair, giggling again when her face scrunched at the streaks of flour left behind. “Yes, my gem?”

“I love you,” Rinko replied quietly, hugging her tight. “I dunno what I’d do without you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” her mother hummed in response, her grin softening. “And I hope you never have to find out.”

2017

Satoru took a deep breath, forcing his legs to keep walking as he approached the booth set up by the girl’s soccer team.

His students mentioned that the Zenin twins brought enough cookies to feed the entire school, and he knew that likely meant that they’d gotten some help. With how close the two were to Rinko, there was only one person who made sense to help them make upwards of ten dozen cookies. A familiar scent filled his nose, and his chest tightened at the sight of a woman he hadn’t seen in almost six years.

“Gojo-sensei!” Miwa Kasumi exclaimed. “You made it! What do you think of our booth?”

“Looks great,” he replied honestly, nodding toward the decorations. His eyes didn’t stray from the woman who turned slowly to give him a skeptical look. “Did a great job. And everyone’s talkin’ about the sweets you’ve got, too.”

“Gojo Satoru.” Kurisaki Yuzuki stared at him, a strained smile on her face as her eyes seemed to stare straight through him.

He saw no sign of Rinko, which likely meant she was at work. She wouldn’t miss something like this for the twins.

“Kurisaki-sama,” he greeted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “When my students said that the Zenin twins brought cookies, I figured you had to have something to do with it.”

“Oh, they did all the hard work,” Yuzuki replied. She crossed her arms. “My daughter, too. I assume you’ll want some of the caramel miso butter cookies? Those were your favorite if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see you–”

“Gojo-sensei,” Mai interjected, holding a bag of cookies out for him. “My cousin asked me to–”

“Mai,” Yuzuki cut her off, her gaze turning sharp. “Don’t lie to your teacher.”

The girl flinched, pouting at the woman dramatically.

“Fine,” she mumbled, shoving the cookies toward him anyway. “Here are your cookies, Gojo-sensei.”

He picked them up awkwardly, clearing his throat as he summoned the courage to speak again.

“Thanks,” he managed, meeting Yuzuki’s eyes again. “I– how’s the bakery doing?”

“You know about the bakery, Gojo-sensei?” Miwa asked, her eyes widening.

“I went to school in Kyoto,” he informed the teen, knowing he was digging a hole for himself. He doubted the twins knew he and Rinko had dated, and he hoped they didn’t know that he’d fucked up so catastrophically with her. “Kurisaki-sama’s bakery is close to campus, and–”

“And his friend group overlapped with my daughter’s,” Yuzuki finished lightly. “My bakery is doing great, Satoru. Thank you for asking. I heard that you’ve been attending my girls’ soccer games lately.”

It was entirely possible that he imagined the threat in her tone, but he knew better.

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s been nice getting to catch up with Rinko, too. Great getting to see an old friend.”

Yuzuki’s eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath.

“I, uh, you really like tea, right?” he asked. “The volleyball team set up a tea shop as their booth. I could show you?”

Part of him hoped she’d refuse, but he knew that would be the coward’s way out. He had to face her and let her know that he understood the weight of his mistakes. Even though he knew that she would likely never forgive him, he needed to do the right thing. On top of that, he needed to quit deluding himself with the hope that apologizing to Rinko —and her mother— would somehow earn him a second chance he knew he didn’t deserve. But that didn’t change that he needed to apologize because it was the right thing to do. Face his fears and own up to his actions.

“That’d be lovely,” Yuzuki agreed. “I’ll be back in a bit, girls.”

She didn’t speak again as they sat down, her mouth set in a frown while she watched him carefully. The silence unnerved him, and he ran his hand through his hair as their tea was placed in front of them.

“I can’t imagine what you think I might want to hear from you, Satoru,” she remarked after she’d taken a sip.

“For one, I thought you might want to– I could tell you were holding back in front of the twins, so I wanted to give you the chance to– I know you probably have some choice words for me–”

“‘Choice words’ would be an understatement,” Yuzuki cut him off. Her glare felt like it would burn him alive. “You deserve much worse than choice words after what you did. The fact that you have the audacity to sit across from me so casually is truly astounding.”

He felt anything but casual while he fought the instinct to get out as fast as possible.

“You were one of her best friends,” Yuzuki continued. “Do you understand what that meant? Do you understand how badly you hurt her? You didn’t just break her heart, you betrayed her trust as her friend, too. She trusted you, Satoru. She let herself believe in you, and you proved yourself completely unworthy of that trust.”

Of course he knew. He’d lost one of his best friends. His selfishness had cost him one of his favorite people in the world, something he’d felt in his soul the moment he’d seen her with her father that night in the restaurant. When he’d felt his chest ache at the sight of her the next morning, clearly trying not to let him see her cry and his world really crashed down around him.

“-or was that the mistake? Me?”

No, she wasn’t the mistake. The mistake had been doubting her for even a second, and he’d regretted it from the moment he’d realized what he’d done. He’d thought that her visiting Tokyo without telling him had confirmed his fears. Thought that it proved she was going to break up with him until he got home to find her bag in his room. He still remembered the guilt choking him when his mother told him she’d been planning on surprising him until something came up.

He’d been too much of a coward to admit to his mother that the something was him being a fucking idiot and ruining everything.

“I– I know that words will never make up for what I did,” he finally whispered, staring at the table. “But I am sorry that I hurt her, for how I hurt her. It’s still one of my biggest regrets.”

Yuzuki said nothing, and he took a slow sip of his tea while he waited for her to speak. He didn’t expect her to believe him, but at least he’d said his peace.

She set her tea back down, her quiet sigh reaching his ears.

“You’ve obviously grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you,” she began carefully. “I can tell that you’re sincere in your apology, too.” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t forgive you, Satoru.”

He nodded, lifting his eyes to hers again.

“I know,” he admitted, still feeling his heart sink in his chest at her words. He did know she wouldn’t forgive him, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “I just– I wanted to do the right thing, even if it’s too late. She– both of you– deserve that much after what I did.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” she replied evenly, crossing her arms. “But I can appreciate the effort, I suppose.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What is it that you want from me?”

“You’ve already given it,” he told her, letting his shoulders sag. “You listened. I don’t– you’ve already given more than I expected, honestly. I’m– I can be content just knowing that I at least apologized and took responsibility for what I did.”

He wanted another chance with Rinko, but he knew that wasn’t something Yuzuki could even offer. He also knew that he didn’t deserve it anyway. He had to be okay with knowing there were some mistakes that couldn’t be fixed.

“I can’t control my daughter, nor do I try to.” Yuzuki released a heavy sigh. “She’s capable of making her own decisions and knowing how to take care of herself. I can respect that she’s allowed you to have a small space in her life again. But know this, Satoru-” she leaned forward, her eyes boring into his- “if you ever break her heart again in any way, I will send Toji after you.”

From the look in her eye, he knew that Toji would be the least of his worries.

AN: I hope this sheds just a bit of light on Gojo's mindset, how Rinko dealt with things, and how much she's grown as a person. While Gojo fucked up BIG TIME, his mistake years ago doesn't mean he's a bad person, and it also doesn't mean he was a bad person then, either. People make mistakes. They do things they shouldn't, and sometimes those things are worse than others. But it's how they react afterward that matters. It's important that he's facing his mistakes and owning up to them, even though he knows that doesn't mean he'll have another chance with Rinko.

I might post an author discussion about this story because I have so many thoughts about how I want it to develop if I continue it. I'd also kinda like to discuss the overall theme of the story, which is really self-discovery and healing. We'd be following Rinko's journey to learning to love herself no matter what happens.

#gojo satoru x original female character #gojo x reader #gojo and rinko #gojo angst #gojo and rinko angst #goinko angst #goinko au #before i love you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru angst #jjk angst

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threerattsinatrenchcoat · 1 month ago

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2024 Writing Challenge Wrap Up

This year I wanted to put out a piece of writing—either a complete piece or a chapter—every week. My main goal was to quit getting stuck in editing hell. This is what I learned:

Writing for output gets you faster but it really highlights your weaknesses as a writer. I found myself reusing a lot of genres, themes, characters, sentence structure, etc, as a crutch to make the process easier. The worst was when I would simply list everything that happened in a scene, like a micromanaging script writer—she did x, he did y, she did z—without taking the time to prune it to the story I wanted to tell. (Funny enough, a friend sent me this article today that perfectly highlights what I'm trying to describe here. This past year my consumption of visual media definitely increased). I'd finish a piece and the word count would seem impressive, but those words didn't actually say anything. Quantity was reducing my quality.

Compared to my earlier writing, I also slipped into using more obvious/dull similes and metaphors. Every character started to speak and act the same, and instead of writing endings, I found myself just writing characters who simply "won" the plot.

Writing short stories combatted almost all of the above. It forced me to remove parts that were hiring the story and remember that I rarely needed the text to describe everything. The dialogue, characters actions and values, my audience's own brains would fill in the gaps. I think people even enjoy a bit of vagueness, especially with jokes; explaining the punchline doesn't make it funny. Letting people have that moment of "aha!" is more effective.

Sometimes I overcorrected—I've read a few older pieces where I'm like, "wait what just happened," but at least I didn't find myself skipping parts of the story.

Applying the concepts of "but it went wrong" and "they would not say that" also helped the above. When I caught myself just writing a list of all the things my characters did to win the plot, I would combat that by either having them fail or fuck up or both. My stories were way more fun/interesting when I figured out the line a character would not cross and then made their victory beyond that line, so they either had to cross the line or avoid it entirely. Example: in The Gang Goes to the Underdark, Zarys will not leave the shipment, even if it means leaving part of her team behind and traveling a very dangerous route, so she goes to ridiculous lengths to deliver it, including capturing minotaurs and walking straight into a trap.

Refusing to have characters act out of character made for more interesting stories, I think. After all, there's a reason I like these characters. (Shout out to @graysparrowao3 whose toxic Aradin/Rugan fics encouraged me to let people be more awful, and to everyone who stans villains). Whenever I had to have a character break "they would not say that" I tried to figure out a good why. Why would this unempathetic character be nice to someone? Maybe because they really love them… or maybe because they think they can get something out of it.

Writing is time consuming. I joked a few times about how I need to step away from the keyboard, my family misses me, but I work full time, go to the gym, volunteer and aim for 7 hours of sleep a night…and then was writing 10+ hours a week. For my pieces, I tried to note down how long they took because I think people devalue free things, but every made thing has a cost.

I can write through (almost) anything. I originally thought I would fail at this goal. Technically I did—4 things I wrote were never posted (projects fell through), and I was without power/cell/internet/water for weeks after a hurricane and while I did write, posting wasn't on my agenda. I also was wildly burnt out/grieving after the hurricane and found myself mechanically getting pieces out there, using the challenge as a way to implement some normalcy. But I posted most weeks and wrote something for every single one. I learned how to barrel through writer's block and how to say "good enough" for a deadline.

Avoiding burnout is a proactive, not a reactive, activity. I fully planned to abandon this challenge if I thought it was ruining my relationship with writing. However, really prioritizing other parts of my life did a lot to protect my relationship with writing, especially prioritizing exercise and my family/friends. Towards the end of the year I started writing less and less, mostly to pick back up other hobbies (gaming especially).

I can write characters, ships, kinks and stories that I don't care about. I did several exchanges/challenges this year because coming up with so much to write is hard. These exchanges meant that I wrote a bunch of stuff where I started the fic not giving a single flying fuck about the characters. Three of a Four Course Meal is an example—I picked it up on a pinch hit mostly because "vampire dinner party" was too hilarious a prompt to let it not be written. I'm not into robots, most of the mages, or Cal/Geraldus (or most of the couples I write, sorry! Like 90% of them are from talking to people online and being like "I like this person, I want to make them something") but I wrote each with the mindset of "I don't need to be into this, I just need to figure out how to write it." I think this helps a lot with output and with pushing yourself to write better. The advice to kill your darlings is also a lot easier when the piece doesn't start out as darling.

Stats:

I debated not including this because all that ^^^ is the real victory, but fuck it, I want to link fics, haha.

I posted over 300,000 words in 2024 (I started to do the math to remove all the words in collab chapter fics I didn't write and gave up) across 48 fics and 105 chapters, which for me is a massive quantity. Every single fic was a rare pair. I cracked several new tags on AO3—I'm probably most infamous for Dammon/Strange Ox, but I also did others, like Vorgoth/Rook, Guex & Pandirna and a bunch of Salazon tags. I also contributed to so many Elturian Refugee and Zhent tags. I'm still a little confused how there are only 43 works with Alfira/Lakrissa, but 4 of them are mine and 3 of those have Alfira/Lakrissa as the main couple. I'm doing my part!

My most popular fic for hits was Wine, Iron and Other Damnables. This was also one of the first I posted, closest to the "height" of activity in the fandom. It was my longest at 44,047 words. I recently reread it and it's not as snappy as my stuff ended up in the end, but it does have a lot of fun plays on words I'd like to return to.

My most kudos'd fic was Where There's Smoke. It was posted pretty soon after Veilguard came out and got a shout out on tiktok, which quadrupled its kudos in 3 days. Really a testament to how much the "when" you post matters; it's pretty standard Ratt smut but so much more popular than my other stuff! The word count was 2,988, although you can pick your pronouns and stuff so the word count is actually higher.

My least popular fic for hits is The Curse of a Promise. It's a rair pair, is WLW, it's SFW—basically everything people say won't get hits haha. But it's my little fic (878 words) and I love it. Least popular for kudos is Popper's Bag of Popping at 700 words, which I was a little surprised by. Maybe it's an issue with the tone not matching the subject? Either way, I'm glad it's no longer one of my Wyll fics.

My shortest fic was Perception at 141 words, and I'm honestly very fond of it!

What's next?

I plan to keep writing, but definitely not at the same output. I would really like to return to some of the creativity and wordplay I had in my original stuff, and I can't do that and put out as much material. I also really want to prioritize longer pieces again.

I'll probably step back from exchanges. It was pretty disheartening to work hard on something for someone and have the receiver comment "can't wait to read it" and then nothing. Or, you know, get literally nothing, not even a kudos. It's kind of soured my feelings toward exchanges. However, shout out to @commander-krios and @lolliputian for running several solid collabs/exchanges and the Zhentil keep for their round robins.

I would like to do a bit more art this year. I know practice generally makes improvement, and seeing how much other artists like @littleplasticrat and @redroomroaving have improved has made me want to get back at it. I cannot do a piece a week, though, haha. Maybe one a month, we'll see. I haven't decided.

Overall, though, I would like to spend less time online. I miss my family, I miss DnD, gaming, reading and hiking. There were things I delayed last year to meet this goal that no longer exist. I'm tired. Happy I did this, but tired.

Additional thoughts that didn't really fit anywhere:

I never expected to make friends during the challenge but I did. I made a lot of friends, and they're all driven, creative, ridiculous, intelligent, hilarious, honest, silly and so valuable to me. I really missed making things with people. I'm just so grateful to everyone I met.

I'm also grateful to all the people who tagged me in their end of the year posts, thank you so much. You're all very lovely

#ratt rambling

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xxlady-lunaxx · 9 months ago

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Room for two | {ObaMitsu}

Theme: Fluff

Note: apparently I've been lax in writing fluff so ive been demanded to write it to pay back for all the angst

Spoilers! post-muzan's death

begins in reg.AU and then switches to modern

×××

They were buried together. Sanemi saw it with his own eyes. He was allowed out of bed for the funeral, though supported by Tengen's sturdy arm. Apparently, Obanai had been holding onto Mitsuri for dear life—rather, death—and they had been unable to be seperated. The thought made Sanemi's heart ache for them and he wondered what had happened in the moments before their death. Had Obanai been able to tell her finally? If so, Sanemi was glad of it. At least he'd have some sort of final rest before he drew his last breath. Nevertheless, it hurt him to watch as the coffin was lowered into the ground and the stone engraved with their names was placed upon the freshly packed earth.

The coffin was large and specifically adorned beautifully. The Ubuyashiki's had left money to the side to buy the gravestones and coffins to be gorgeously made for each and every Demon Slayer who had deceased in the past thousand years. Kiriya and the others had made sure that the same money was used to buy coffins for the Demon Slayers who had died fighting Muzan as well, keeping the tradition.

This particular coffin was built large enough to have room for two as both Obanai and Mitsuri were tucked inside. It looked pecuiliar, two stones over one grave. But it fit. They had always been close to one another, despite their obvious differences and neither wanting to tell the other how they felt. They had been close. And they would be even through death.

Sanemi leaned against Tengen, letting himself relax slightly.

"Are you tired?" Tengen asked, shifting their position.

"I'm fine. I want to stay here, still," Sanemi murmured.

"Alright. Tell me if you want to go."

"I will."

Words were spoken for the two Hashira and Sanemi watched as bundles of flowers piled up all around the grave, decorating it and making it look as alive and colorful as the two had been. As they were. People started leaving as the sun slowly made its descent down the sky and still Sanemi stood, watching the grave with a melancholy smile. Finally, he stood up, almost tipping over from the sudden movement.

Tengen, startled, quickly held onto him before he fell.

"I'm ready to go," Sanemi told him.

"M'kay," Tengen replied, taking his arm and guiding him out and down the path, back home.

×××

"There won't be any room!" Obanai whined as he eyed the ferris wheel.

"Oh, don't be a pussy," Sanemi groaned, rolling his eyes. "Kanroji's going to be back from the bathroom any second now, you have to ask her to go with you before the place closes."

"Why are we even going at night, then?" Obanai protested.

"Because the lights of the city will be turning on and it'll be more romantic so you can ask her out," Sanemi explained, crossing his arms. "She's coming, now. If you don't ask her now, I'm going to set her up with Tomioka."

"He doesn't even—does he like her?" Obanai asked with a sudden panic.

Sanemi laughed. "No. But he's like you in some ways. While you're too scared to ask to be her boyfriend, he's too scared to turn down someone's offer to date him. Honestly, you two should be best friends with all your similarities. Now, go ask her out because Tomioka is right there and I'm not afraid to get him."

Mitsuri walked up to them, giving Obanai no time to snap at Sanemi before he seemingly disappeared, leaving the two alone.

"Eh? Wasn't Shinazugawa here?" Mitsuri asked, confused as she looked around.

Obanai blinked. "Oh- Uhm, he went to go on a ride with Tomioka," he said. That's what you get. Now Mitsuri will think Sanemi and Giyuu are being all lovey-dovey.

Through his peripheral vision, he saw Sanemi roll his eyes from behind a random tree. He smiled contently to himself, then gathered up as much courage as he could to deliver the question.

"Oh! Okay!" Mitsuri said. "Will we be leaving soon? I think it's going to close in a bit."

"Uh... Do you wanna go on the ferris wheel together?" Obanai mumbled, his cheeks burning red already as he awaited rejection.

"Just us?!"

Obanai nodded.

"Eeehhh?! Really?!" Mitsuri squealed.

Obanai's gaze was set on the ground and he was unsure if this was a good or bad reaction.

"Of course!! I would love to!!" Mitsuri responded, practically vibrating with excitement.

From surprise, Obanai's head snapped up. "Really?"

"Yeahh!! Oh, we should go now before they close up, hurry!" Mitsuri urged excitedly, taking his hand in her own and running off towards the ferris wheel. She all but dragged him there as they gave their tickets over.

"Are the two of you going in together?" the person handling the tickets asked.

Mitsuri nodded. "Yep!"

"Right. It might be small but it's the last round we're going tonight and there isn't enough time to wait for the two-person ones to be open, if that's alright."

"Yes, it's fine," Obanai spoke up, deciding that they would go now or he would die.

"Very well."

The door was opened and they both clambered inside. There were seats on either side of it but it was, as informed, tightly spaced. For a moment, Obanai had a sense of claustrophobia. Then he remembered Mitsuri was only a foot or less away from him and his panic turned into a flustered one as he remembered that Sanemi was forcing him to ask her out.

The wheel started to move and Mitsuri smiled at Obanai.

"I'm happy to go on this with you. I wanted to go earlier but I thought it wouldn't be as fun by myself and I forgot," she explained.

"Oh. I'm happy to go with you, too," Obanai said. Then realized that was probably stupid to say since he was the one who asked her in the first place and corrected himself. "I mean, I'm happy you acepted my offer."

Mitsuri beamed.

They waited a bit as they were slowly moved up. As they started to reach the top, Obanai drew in a breath deciding he would tell her now. At least she couldn't run away from him in here.

Mitsuri was gazing out of the window, eyes wide in awe. The sun was setting and, as Sanemi had said, lights were flickering on all over the city. From up here you could see the whole city stretching out before them. The lights from the buildings and cars were scattered about and it looked as if they were stars, a whole sky waiting for him to tell her.

"It's sooo pretty," Mitsuri murmured, her breath fogging up the glass.

Obanai nodded but, in his mind, Mitsuri was far more beautiful than the view.

They reached the peak of the wheel, sitting above what seemed like everything. A burst of ecstasy of being here with Mitsuri, of being up here, hit Obanai and he let the words flow from him as quickly as he could, before he freaked out. The wheel would round back up again since it went around twice, but the first time was the best and he wanted her to know now.

"Mitsuri?"

"Yes?"

"I... like you. Like... romantically. A lot. And I wanted to know if you would maybe consider... being my girlfriend?" Obanai asked. He was sure his voice was too quiet to be heard, especially through his mask. Yet Mitsuri's eyes widened at the question and for a moment she said nothing.

They were already making their way back down, half way there. That was fine. At least he'd told her at the top.

Then Mitsuri all but fell onto him in her excitement, forgetting they were in such closed quarters. She squeaked, ended up bonking her head twice as she tried to get up until she managed to sit across from Obanai again, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she hurried to say, averting her eyes.

"It's fine," Obanai said, resisting the urge to smile. She was adorable. Oh god. "Ah... So your answer? Also—please don't feel obligated to say yes or whatever," he said quickly, remembering what Sanemi had said about Giyuu. "You can say no if you don't want it."

"Oh! Oh, no, no," Mitsuri said, shaking her head.

For a moment, Obanai figured she meant about his question and his heart sank. And then she said, "Uhm, uhm, I would love to be with you! As your girlfriend! I really would! If you would take me as... as yours, then I would definitely date you."

Obanai's eyes widened as he struggled to process this. "Really?"

She nodded enthusiastically, face dusted pink as she caught his gaze. "I lov- I mean, I like you too, and I have for a bit... It's embarrassing, but I've admired you for a while now and I didn't know if you would see me as anything but a friend, so I didn't ask," she said.

The ferris wheel was going up again and Obanai took her hands in his own.

"That's... how I've felt about you," he admitted. "But I'm happy you feel the same..."

Mitsuri nodded again, her embarrassed smile turning sweet. "Of course I do! You're so cool, Iguro-San, I don't know how I wouldn't like you!"

Obanai's face turned pink at the praised and he glanced down. "I thought myself unworthy of being with someone as amazing as you, really."

"Eh? Really?!" Mitsuri exclaimed. "Ah- I'm so flattered right now, I think I'm going to melt the ride..."

Obanai laughed gently, looking back up at her. "I think we both will, then," he said quietly.

"Iguro-san?"

"Yes?"

"Ehm... Can I kiss you?" she asked nervously.

Obanai took a moment to process this. Then he nodded, tugging his mask off.

Mitsuri smiled nervously before she leaned closer, her eyes fluttering close. Obanai copied her movements and then—

Then he felt the plush of her lips on his own and the slippery feeling of her lip gloss. His hands moved blindly, cupping her face. His heart felt afire, as if it was burning for the endless affection he wished he could communicate to her as they pulled apart.

They seemed to mirror each other with their mouths slightly ajar, eyes wide and cheeks red. Then Mitsuri laughed softly, happily and Obanai followed her example, feeling exhilerated. He glanced to his side and realized they were already almost all the way down. Mitsuri noticed too and pouted for a moment, then smiled again.

"Well, we already saw it once. And it was fine we didn't get to see it again," she said, handing him his mask.

Obanai agreed. "It was better the second time around," he teased, putting his mask back on. The ferris wheel was stopping slowly, letting off each passenger.

Eventually, it stopped at theirs and Obanai stepped out. He held out a hand for Mitsuri and she took it. They walked away to where Sanemi and Giyuu were talking by, neither letting go of the other's hand.

Sanemi grinned when they arrived and Mitsuri parted from Obanai to go talk to Giyuu while Sanemi confronted him.

"I saw you two kiss," Sanemi said, waving his phone to show a picture of the ferris wheel. He zoomed into the part where Obanai and Mitsuri sat and Obanai flushed, realizing that Sanemi had somehow gotten exactly where they had kiss. They had been at the very top, then, and Obanai decided that he had been wrong about being at the top the first time was better. The second time was definitely best.

"Shut up," Obanai huffed. "And delete that picture."

Sanemi hummed. "No."

"Then send it to me."

"I can do that," Sanemi said, tapping on his phone to send it. "Anyway, I'm assuming you two are dating now?"

Obanai nodded, a smile curving his lips without him realizing. "Mhm. Also I told you there wasn't enough room. The one we went in was supposed to be for one person but they ran out."

Sanemi shrugged. "Looked like there was just enough room for two. Especially with you both just getting all on top of each other and kissing."

"I- We only kissed once!" Obanai whined, pushing Sanemi lightly.

"Mhm. Well, count on me not being around when you two kiss more. I can't handle that."

"SHUT UP!!!"

×××

« Word count: 2024 »

HELP THE WORD COUNT WASNT ACTUALLY ON PURPOSE 😭🙏

also y'all can ignore the fact that the first part was technically a lil angsty, I don't wanna talk about my inability to write only fluff

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perfectly-m1saligned · 4 months ago

Text

(Late) K!nktober 9

Following @dreamlandcreations prompt list. Day 9: threesome. You can find all my stories on my Wattpad as well. Toodles!

(NSFW: MDNI!! Reader's discretion is advised)

Simon Riley x John MacTavish x reader

(threesome) (college!au) (homoerotic!ghoap)

cw: mlm (kind of), extreme bromance, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, anal, reader is stuffed like a turkey

word count: 2512

a/n: i hope posting this late won't happen as often in the future, please be patien with me xo ++ first time writing a threesome, may make no sense at all lol

“Who do ye like best, between Si-boy here and I?”

“I can’t choose, Johnny. You can’t ask me that, I love you both equally.”

“Bunch ‘a shite, bonnie. Ye must like someone more?”

“Nuh uh, can’t say I do.”

“Who would you fuck, then?”

Both you and Johnny turned to Simon, your beer bottle hanging mid-air, the rim slightly brushing against your lips. “What now?” You and Johnny asked at the same time, completely caught off-guard by Simon’s sudden question. “Si, I don’t think-” You looked between the two boys, perplexed, sitting criss-crossed on the carpeted floor of your dorm room between your two friends. Your best friends, since you could remember.

“I mean it. We talked about this, aye? At least I’ve got the balls to ask ‘er.” He bit back to Johnny, shooting him a sidelong glare. “You don’t really mean it…right?” You tried to play it off by chuckling awkwardly, giving them a nervous half-smile. Johnny sighed, looking away as heat crept up his neck, his cerulean eyes avoiding your gaze. You turned to Simon, and his brown eyes were locked on yours. He looked dead serious. “You…you’re not joking?” You asked, fiddling with your beer.

“No,” Simon replied plainly. “And I am expecting an answer.” You could feel Johnny’s shy gaze on you, eagerly waiting. This was not how you had expected the night to go. You had invited them over to catch up a bit, since even if you all went to the same college, your schedules rarely allowed you to spend time together. They’d brought some beers, covering the smoke alarm with a damp sock so they could smoke, and it was all sailing smoothly, until now.

“Didnae mean to pressure ye, y/n. You dinnae have to answer him if ye’re not feelin’ like it.” Johnny said from behind you, although you knew he was secretly dying to know. “Guys, really…?” You asked, your gaze flicking between the two boys. “I can’t choose, it wouldn’t be fair. And I really don’t have a favourite. You want my honest answer? If it came to it, then both.” The look they gave you as soon as the words fell out of your lips made you regret almost every decision you had ever made over your exiguous years of life on this earth. Then they looked at each other, and you wondered if you were in trouble. Or about to be.

“Y’ heard the lady, Johnny,” Simon murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t be nice of us to not please her, eh?” You were increasingly more confused, especially since Johnny was mirroring his friend’s expression. “Sure wouldn’t,” he said. “So, y/n, will you have us?” The weight of their eyes on you felt unbearable. Did they seriously mean it? Of course they must’ve been fucking with you or something, they couldn’t possibly really mean it, they had been your best friends for ages, it felt borderline incestuous to see them under a different light.

You remembered two kids rolling in mud and playing rugby under the rain, then shaking themselves off like dogs, of course while standing next to you, and then you’d chase after them to beat them up with a stick. But now they were all grown up, their shoulders filled out, their features sharper, but they never lost the cheeky glint in their eyes.

Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “I mean…fuck it, right?” You chuckled nervously, still thinking they were playing some prank on you. “We already did everything together, I don’t think sex would be weird.” They exchanged another look, then Johnny moved to take the beer out of your hands. “Ye’ve got us, then.” With that, he took a large swig from the bottle, using his other hand to reach for your face, taking your jaw between his fingers, applying minimal pressure, just enough to get your lips to part.

You didn’t have the time to process that he was getting closer, until his lips collided with yours, and you felt the bitter liquid go down your throat. You swallowed, still kissing Johnny, and he took the chance to let his tongue slide into your mouth, seeking out your tongue, which you offered with no resistance. Something similar to growl rumbled in his chest, and you felt it reverberating through your bones, all of your body relaxing into the kiss.

A pair of large hands found their way to your waist from behind, as Simon used his nose to move your hair out of the way, lips latching onto the sensitive skin of your neck, flushed from the heat of their touch. You moaned into Johnny’s mouth, and his kiss got somehow more passionate. His hands were on your thighs, gently prodding them apart to allow himself between them. Simon’s hands crept under your t-shirt, soon finding the soft swells of your breasts, no extra fabric separating your skin from his.

You gasped when he pinched your nipples, taking the sensitive nubs with his thumb and forefinger, then gently rolled them between his digits. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva still connected your lips to Johnny’s, your half-lidded eyes looking up into his cerulean ones with a dazed look, your cheeks flushed.

And somehow you ended up on your bed, all three of you standing on your knees, with you sandwiched between the two boys. Simon’s lips were now claiming yours, his kisses slower, more passionate, following a totally different pace from Johnny’s, whose kisses were more boyish. “You taste so good, y/n,” he murmured. “Ain’t that right, Johnny?” He simply hummed, his hands busy with exploring every inch of your clothed body, itching to get you out of them as soon as possible.

You were already soaked, your juices seeping through the fabric of your panties and most likely your shorts, too. When you felt the Scot’s hand circle the side of your thigh, you thought he was going to give your needy cunt some release, but instead, it reached for Simon’s crotch. You were a bit confused, but when you heard Simon groan as he peppered your neck with kisses, you wondered if this was the first time the two boys were this intimate with each other. Johnny palmed Simon through his sweatpants, his bulge swelling beneath the fabric. His other hand snaked around your waist, expert fingers sliding under your panties, feeling how utterly soaked you were, coaxing a small whimper.

“Fuck, she’s all wet, Si,” he informed his friend, a smirk in his voice. “Ye should feel ‘er. Absolutely soaked.” He collected some of the slick between your folds, and you groaned, slightly frustrated when he removed his hand, only to see him shoving his fingers, coated in your juices, into Simon’s mouth. “Fucking hell.” He growled, sucking on Johnny’s digits. A shiver ran down your spine, wide eyes transfixed on the scene in front of you, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. “Let’s get these clothes off ‘er, yeah?” The blond suggested, and you couldn’t help but think: fucking finally.

It felt odd, feeling their skin against yours, their body heat seeping right into your bones, their hairs tickling every inch of you. The last the three of you were all naked was when you were little snotty kids getting washed by Mrs. MacTavish after spending the day jumping in puddles after a storm. Now you weren’t kids anymore. Their warmth enveloped you, calloused hands tracing the contours of your body, stealing gasps of pleasure.

You sat between Simon’s legs, your back against him, his hands keeping your thighs parted for Johnny, who crawled right in between, admiring your glistening heat, all bare and exposed for them. His breath fanned over your sensitive core, your engorged clit screaming for attention, sending a shiver up your spine. His tongue darted out, giving small kitten licks that made you whimper, your legs instinctively closing, but Simon prevented you from doing that, clicking his tongue. “Can’t let you do that, love.” He chided affectionately, his lips marking the side of your throat. Johnny lapped up the slick between your folds with a flat tongue, his nose brushing against your clit, making you throw your head back against his chest, eyes fluttering closed.

A long digit slid inside your weeping hole, meeting no resistance. Your back arched as you released a shuddering breath, your hips meeting’s Johnny’s movements as he added a second finger and started to pump at a moderate place, his lips closed in around your sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between sucking and licking. Your sweet mewls filled the room, the bed slightly shaking since Johnny started to fist his own cock, too turned on by your sounds and your taste. Simon was quiet, content enough with just watching you receiving pleasure, and Johnny humping his own hand like the dog he was. He kneaded the supple flesh of your breasts, playing with your nipples, attentively watching what made you moan a little louder or squirm a little more.

Suddenly, Johnny pulled back, stimulating your clit with his thumb instead. You opened your eyes, seeing his lips and chin glistening with your juices. He stopped jerking off to put his hand beside you on the mattress, leaning forward, your mouth agape as he kissed Simon, the blond’s tongue lapping at your arousal on his friend’s face. The scene was so weirdly hot that it tipped you over the edge, your loud moans and gasps for air interrupting their makeout session, both boys looking down at you as you unravelled around the Scot’s fingers, sporting a cocky grin. “Look at ‘er Johnny, think she can still go?” Simon asked, Johnny’s cerulean eyes meeting the blond’s brown ones. “Got to, we just started.”

Simon manoeuvred you so he was lying under you, making you straddle his lap. Johnny’s hands were on your waist, lining your entrance to his rosy tip. “Guys,” you mumbled. “I never-” “‘S okay, y/n,” Simon whispered gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re the ones you trust most in the world, right? We’re going to treat you so well.” Johnny hummed in agreement from behind, watching his friend’s cock tease your weeping hole. You weren’t a virgin, you had already had sex, some meaningless hookups, but never a threesome; your first one being with them surely wasn’t on this year’s bucket list.

You slowly lowered yourself on Simon’s cock, his girth stretching you out deliciously, coaxing a long, pleased moan as you descended, your walls hugging him perfectly. “Fuck,” Johnny groaned behind you. “Fuck…” you sighed, seeing Simon watching you with an amused look. “I know your little cunt would feel like the best on the fucking earth.” He praised gruffly, his hand coming to rest on the curve of your ass. He started to move his hips up into your cunt with deliberate strokes, his other hand tracing along your spine as your chest came to meet his, enjoying your soft sounds in his ear.

Then, you felt something moist hit your puckered hole, making you shiver, but Simon simply caressed your bottom, gently spreading you. “‘S alright, y/n. Johnny will be gentle. Right, Johnny?” He said, his tone turning stern, as if he was warning the brunette. “Aye, aye.” He replied, before he inserted a digit, your breath hitching at the unfamiliar sensation. “Johnny,” you pleaded breathlessly, Simon’s dick still gently sliding in and out of you. “Be gentle, or I swear to god I’m breaking that pretty little nose.”

“Ye think my nose is pretty? Ye’re flatterin’ me, y/n.” He chuckled, laughing even more when you snarled at him. You felt him spit again, then another finger followed, and he started to move both around to get you adjusted to the feeling. You were a moaning and squirming mess, the fullness you were feeling was confusing, you liked it but it also felt weird as fuck. “How you feelin’, beautiful?” Simon asked, kissing your cheek tenderly. You only managed a confused babble, already overwhelmed by having both your holes filled.

“Keep ‘er nice and spread, mate,” Johnny murmured, stroking his cock, getting ready to insert it. The blond obliged, your heartrate picking up as you felt him remove his fingers, only to start pushing in the head. It fucking hurt. You cried out softly, but Simon’s gentle thrusts were taking your mind off the pain. A string of curses fell from Johnny’s lips, your untouched hole squeezing him impossibly tight, no matter how hard you tried to focus on relaxing your muscles.

When the first two inches were in, Simon started to pick up his pace, fucking into you slightly faster, so you wouldn’t notice Johnny’s cock slowly filling you more and more. You were impossibly wet, Simon’s name leaving your lips like a prayer, already too drunk on the feeling to say something more articulated. So you didn’t even notice when Johnny bottomed out inside of you, his dick not as girthy as Simon’s, but still pretty long. When he started to move his hips as well, you suddenly remembered that he was in your ass, and that was your sanity’s undoing.

The two boys met each other at a shared pace, both thrusting into you as heat quickly coiled up in your stomach as the swirl of sensations brought you closer to the edge. Simon’s cock was drowning in your juices, creating the most obscene sounds known to man as he slammed into you. Your moans filled the room, the boy’s grunts only serving to edge you closer. Johnny was folded over you, as he sometimes kissed your neck, or Simon, or both of you at the same time.

You had never felt so connected to them, so safe, and so loved. You knew they would never hurt you, or let anything or anyone hurt you. They were your protectors, your knights in shining armour, who had only had eyes for you and you only for the longest time, yet it had somehow gone right over your head.

You were all close, so close, until the knot in your stomach snapped, your loud moan making the others follow suit right after. Warm cum spurted inside both your cunt and your ass, hips stuttering, balls pressed against you as they tried to reach as deep as possible inside you, filling you to the brim.

All three of you were completely out of it, trying to breathe normally again as the boys went soft inside you, deflating as they rode out their high. Once they had unsheathed themselves, you all tried to fit awkwardly onto your queen sized bed, Simon and Johnny being too large to fit on their own, so you were all comically squeezed together on the mattress. “How long have you guys been planning it?” You asked softly, half.lidded eyes gazing up to the ceiling. “Forever,” Johnny answered. “She said plannin’, not dreamin’ ya tit.” Simon retorted. You sniggered, shaking your head. “Well, either way, I think we can replicate it sometimes,” you murmured, your head turning left and right to look at both of them.

Nothing had changed. They were still your boys.

•This is an original work of fiction, please do not translate or share on this or any other platforms without credit•

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod #college au #call of duty smut #ghost x reader smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #18+ mdni #mdni #i need him #omg this man #halloween #perfectly-m1saligned

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