#the place i got it from was book-off and everything in there was pretty expensive and i only got like . 3 things but thats a highlight . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azrielbrainrot · 10 months ago

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Rhysand calls for a meeting so you and the rest of the Inner Circle can decide what to do next. Azriel stands by your side every step of the way.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx @that-one-little-soybean @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @saltedcoffeescotch @astarlitsoul @bwormie @just-a-social-casualty-1 @sundayysunshine

(for some reason I couldn't tag some of you. check your settings because you might have tags disabled.)

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

580 notes · View notes

mypimpademia · 1 year ago

Text

— The Teacher (pt. 2)

Single dad! Gojo x Fem! Preschool teacher! Reader

Synopsis: Little Megumi wonders if you’re his new mom, and Gojo finds himself wondering the same thing.

TW: None

Note: click/tap here for part 1! or Click/tap here for part 3! I forgot to mention it in the first part, but ig it was kinda implied, Gojo is 29 in this not a teen like he was in canon. Gojo is also very briefly implied to get around

⇶ Satoru stuck to his promise of taking you out

⇶ He left Megumi with Utahime for the night, and made sure that everything was perfect for you

⇶ Truthfully, he went a little overboard out of his own anxiety

⇶ Booked reservations for one of the nicest restaurants in town, deep cleaned his house (just in case), got his already clean car detailed, bought a new suit despite having many hardly-worn ones in his closet, stalked your socials for hints at what you might like, and more that he’d be far too embarrassed to ever admit to

⇶ Satoru picked you up from your house at 6 pm, knocking on your door with a giant bouquet of flowers in hand

“You look incredible.”

Those were the only words Satoru could come up with when he saw you.

He always thinks you look incredible, but seeing you all dressed up outside of your usual work attire was a nice change of pace, and you looked effortlessly beautiful.

“Thank you, Toru,” you beamed. “You look pretty,” you told him, scanning over his tall figure, clad in a deep blue suit.

‘Toru’, ‘pretty’. He nearly passed out on your porch.

Satoru smiled, clearing his throat in an effort to gather his bearings as he fought back the deep blush that was crawling up his face.

“For you, mon chéri,” he said, in a corny fake French accent, presenting the large bouquet of flowers to you.

They were neatly wrapped in a brown paper, and tied off with a white bow. From just the look of it, you could tell they were expensive.

“These are my favorite,” you gasped, taking them from him. “How’d you know?”

He stalked your instagram and found a post from a year ago where you said you loved them.

“Lucky guess,” Satoru smiled. “Y’ready to go?”

⇶ He led you to his shiny black sports car, opening up the door for you to get in

⇶ It even smelled expensive, and the fresh scent of car shampoo was still lingering. You could tell he had it cleaned just for this, but didn’t say anything

⇶ When you got to the restaurant, out of place was an understatement for how you felt

⇶ You were just happy you decided to dress nicer than you had originally planned

⇶ Looking around, the restaurant was beautifully decorated, and the people dining were dressed just as beautiful

⇶ The more time you spent with Satoru, the more that you realized you knew next to nothing about him

⇶ Where does he get all this money from? What does he do for a living? Who is he, really? And what’s up with the sunglasses?

⇶ You will admit, the mystery only made him all the more attractive, but you had a newfound determination to peel back his layers

⇶ But your first date might not be the best time for that, so you were willing to let things unfold naturally for now

⇶ Satoru insisted that you ordered whatever you want off the menu because he was paying, and ignored your protests

⇶ You hopped around different topics of conversation throughout dinner, and you did eventually make it to the subject of work

⇶ Satoru asked you what exactly made you want to teach preschool, or teach at all, and watched your eyes light up

⇶ Teaching was undoubtably a job you need to have a passion for, and you had more than enough passion for it

⇶ You told him that you’ve always had an interest in teaching, and loved kids and thought they were precious, sacred even, and that their early years are the best part to watch and be a part of

⇶ Satoru’s heart was getting ready to leap out of his chest just watching you talk about something you love so much

‘She’d make a great mom for Megs…’

⇶ The thought surprised even him, Satoru wasn’t sure if it was genuine or intrusive, but it had him glancing at your features and around him to make sure he hadn’t accidentally said it aloud

⇶ He told you that all the kids were lucky to have you, and that seeing you take care of Megumi and all those kids with ease made him feel like his worries from adopting were pointless

⇶ He glazed over the adoption part so easily, you almost missed it

⇶ Sure, you were more than well aware that Satoru was a single father, and when you saw that his last name was different from Megumi’s, you just assumed it was his mothers last name

“It is his mothers last name, but he’s not at all my biological kid. I adopted him from… a friend.”

⇶ You had removed a layer from Satoru, only to find how thin it was in comparison to the amount he had left

⇶ The revelation answered some of the questions you had, and left you with even more at the same time

⇶ Just based on the hesitation he showed, you knew better than to press any further, and changed the subject

⇶ The rest of dinner went smoothly, and you and Satoru once again went back and forth about the bill before he was calling the waiter back to take his card

⇶ On the drive back, Satoru asked if you wanted to see Megumi since Utahime’s house was in the same direction as yours

⇶ You said yes, because of course you wanted to see Megumi, and because it was getting harder and harder for you to say no to Satoru

⇶ When you arrived at Utahime’s, Megumi lept at you before he even said hello to Satoru

⇶ Satoru feigned being hurt by the action, but Megumi still payed him no mind, directing all his attention to you

⇶ Satoru thanked Utahime for watching Megumi, and you overheard her saying something about not dumping his kid on her again

⇶ Megumi had you sit in the backseat with him, and told you about all the stuff he did at Utahime’s

⇶ All the sudden, he asked why you and Satoru were all dressed up

“Did you guys go on a date?”

You and Satoru shared a questioning look through the rear view mirror, one that asked ‘Should we tell him?’.

“Sure did little man!” Satoru told him, but Megumi didn’t seem too surprised by his answer.

“Oh, Dad goes on a lot of those,” Megumi said, before going back to playing with the plastic dinosaur in his lap.

Satoru was rethinking all his life choices in that moment. He gulped back the saliva that had pooled in his mouth, already going over how exactly he could explain that to you later on.

To his surprise, he heard you laugh at Megumi’s comment.

“But I’m your favorite, right?” You asked the boy, playfully nudging him. He turned to you with big wide eyes and smiled.

“Yup!”

⇶ Dropping you off at your house, Satoru thanked you for letting him take you out, and haphazardly tried to apologize for Megumi’s little comment and explain himself

⇶ You told him it was fine, and thanked him for the night, hugging him and planting a kiss on his cheek

⇶ Satoru froze up at the action, but managed to say bye to you as he collected himself and you disappeared into your house

⇶ When he and Megumi got back home, Satoru made a point to explain to Megumi why he couldn’t just throw out information like that to people, especially you

⇶ While putting on the boys pajamas in the dimly lit dinosaur themed room, Megumi yawned out a question

“Hey, dad,”

He spoke through a yawn while rubbing his eye with his fist. Satoru hummed back in acknowledgment, straining out the bottom of the little boy’s pajama shirt

“Is Ms. L/n gonna be my mom?” Megumi asked, looking at Satoru with low, sleepy eyes.

Satoru thought back to the statement that popped into his head during dinner. You would make a great mom for him.

“Um,” Satoru started, tucking Megumi underneath his comforter. “I dunno yet.”

He was honest. He didn’t know if what he was feeling for you was real or if he was just in over his head.

“I hope she is,” Megumi muttered, huffing out as his breathing turned into soft snores.

“Me too, Megs.”

—

Taglist: @megurulvr @miirene @planetlunaa @kazuminari @goldenglow149 + @torusmochi

Send in a ask or DM me to be added to all taglists, or fill out my form to be added to select ones.

—

Thank you for reading, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

1K notes · View notes

menkya-and-charon · 1 year ago

Text

₊˚⊹⋆ Howdy there! It’s finally time for Sandrock's final release yay ₊˚⊹⋆

To celebrate this special occasion Sandara pulled off her jewelry making skills to prepare some unique rings for every sandrocker who wishes to propose to their soulmate ! So without further, here's a little story behind each design,

Qi - Sended an intriguing blueprint to Sandara with complex symbols and diagrams…He assured her that it meant something important to his soulmate so she craved the coded message in precious silver with care. Even if she didn’t get Qi special love language as usual she was sure his loved one would get it ;)

Owen - Our favorite bartender showed an intricate design to Sandara, a delicate pattern almost the same as his own parents' engagement ring. Like the gilding flowers on the cover of a fine book he wished to give his lover the beginning of the story they were about to write together in this life.

Fang - The swan holding a special meaning to him Fang requested Sandara to make his ring the shape of that gracious animal to seal his promise to love and cherish his dearest one forever.

Ernest - Came by with this big and expensive pearl that got a special meaning to him asking Sandara if she could add it to his ring. The pearl symbol of his loyalty and love was carefully placed on the gold ring, the initials of his name and his lover one engraved on the inside.

Pablo - He made a special request to Sandara in search of the most colorful metal they could find for his ring in which bismuth mineral was perfect! Showing how bright and full of all the colors of this world his love was for his chosen one.

Arvio - Insisting on getting the most fine materials Arvio asked for a special ring. He showed Sandara a rare sand flower from Baranarok symbolizing hope and renewal inspiring the shape of that jewel meant to bond him and his other half forever.

Miguel - Requested a rather simple but very elegant ring, made with pale gold with a single diamond to show the purity of his love for his chosen one.

Burgess - Asked for something extra special to convey all his will to live in happiness and kindness with his soulmate. The yellow diamond he chose shining in the center of his ring radiating like the sun all his love.

Pen - In secret Pen demanded the most powerful ring Sandara could make to give his special one great strength and power he’s all for. However he never delivered it himself…

Unsuur - While admiring his collection Unsuur couldn't choose which gem was more fitting so he brought them all to Sandara to make a special ring! (even adding a few shards Wilson lost to make the base of his special ring ;)

Justice - Wanted a pretty ring that still felt like him so Sandara took great care at bringing out Justice strong will and honesty toward his most precious one with this silver and copper ring.

Logan - The only one Sandara didn’t made because well Logan made it himself for his special one! On late hunt nights he sat by the fire and carefully carved this ring in bones with the will to give his loved one something he made with all his heart.

This isn’t much but I hope everyone will have much fun playing and living wonderful adventures with Sandrockers friendly as romantic ones ! As I used to study jewelry making it was very much fun to do and fitting hc that Sandara would make them for the town folks !

It’s been already one year that I have being in this fandom and so so grateful for everything it brought me and the wonderful people it allowed me to meet ♡

I’m currently working on the girl next and some custom ones for my fellow builders who helped me with the designs ◇

₊˚⊹⋆ Happy Sandrock day ! Wish you all the best and see you soon to continue this journey together ₊˚⊹⋆

1K notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 1 year ago

Text

Fours Company - Part 1

Everything is below the cut because this is just pretty much going to turn into porn. -Minors DNI

Summary - After hearing about Lyria and Azriel's agreement and arrangement with Feyre and Rhys, Nesta and Cassian are desperate for a taste.

Warnings - its long.. Smut. Fingering. Choking. Dom/sub dynamics. Fxf briefly, mxfxfxm dynamics play. Cassian is a switch. Subspace. Voyeurism. Degradation and praise. Free use mentioned.

A/N - I plead the 5th. Part 2 will be up soon. Also, peep "Slow Hand" link in my masterlist to learn about our dearest Lyria Vanserra.

Word count- Over 4k

Update:

Part 2

Lyria stretched her sore fingers, silently praising the Mother that her appointments were all finished for the day, and that she had opted to take a night off.

She loved Velaris, truly she did, and she was beyond thankful and blessed Rhysand had brought her here after her father had publicly disowned her Under the Mountain.

He had purchased her that very night to protect her, bringing her into the small sanctuary his chambers would become for the two of them down there. She cannot freely touch you anymore. You are safe here, he had held her against his chest, allowing her to cry and be angry.

She had nothing to repay him with, but a gift that the Cauldron, Mother, and love of research had bestowed on her. And the second night she spent in Rhysand's chambers, she had spent it working every ounce of tension the High Lord held out of his body. It became their routine. She'd play the part of his eye candy, never to be marked or touched by another, and she'd repay him by ensuring he was at least out of physical pain and discomfort.

Maybe that was why she was suddenly the most popular massage therapist in the city. Who wouldn't want to pay for the time of the female the High Lord and Lady, along with their Inner Circle, all go to and rave about so loudly in public? She loved Velaris, she reminded herself again, and Gods did she love money and all the expensive things that came with it.

It had been the massage on Lucien that did her in tonight. Her poor older brother was not even a client or booked, but she had found the knot while stretching his neck trying to help with a headache he'd told her he had for days. She'd asked him to lay down and worked his back, shoulders, and neck until it finally came out. It had taken 2 hours. 2 hours on top of the 15 massages she had already given today.

But she didn't regret it, she didn't regret a single thing as he thanked her and placed a soft kiss on her temple, promising her treats from every court he could manage to get to.

She didn't even regret it now as she rubbed the cream Madja had made into her own skin, eyes fluttering shut as the pain relieving ointment worked its magic as she slid her hands under a heat pack.

She could have slept like that, curled up in her soft bed, hands being warmed and relaxed as she used her magic to create the sounds of a forest in her dimmed room, but a knock on her door pulled her from the sleepy blissful state.

She got up, knowing if it was a knock this late, it was a member of the Inner Circle, and she'd never deny them, no matter how tired or aching her hands were.

Cassian was leaned against the door frame and she moved to welcome him in, immediately noting the casual sweatpants and t-shirt he wore. "Foxling," he said casually, taking a seat on the new couch Azriel had insisted on purchasing.

"General," her tone was questioning. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She didn't miss the twitch in Cassian's lip. Mentally noting it for later when Azriel would get here.

She watched him lean forward, eyes locked on her. "Nesta and I know about the situation with you, Azriel, Rhys, and Feyre." Heat filled Lyria's body as she nodded, immediately feeling a flush hit her face. "We want a similar one."

"You're very blunt tonight, Cassian." Lyria refused to meet his eyes. The discussion of the agreement with Rhys and Feyre had been done with Azriel present as Rhys approached you. "I would be more comfortable with my mate here."

Cassian smirked again as if he had prepared for that answer. "Azriel is currently in discussion with Nesta. I said "similar", little fox, not the same." He watched as she bit her lip. "We know you and Feyre swap. Rhys takes you out, plays with you with no actual sex, then goes home to his pretty little wife and family to fuck her brains out. Azriel takes Fey out, plays with her, and comes back here to rearrange your pretty little body. Nesta and I don't want to swap or to court. We just solely want to fuck you two. Whenever we'd like, wherever we'd like. With or without our mates involved. Do you understand what I'm asking for, doll?"

Her breath stilled in her throat and she nodded. "I would need to talk to Azriel." Cassian stood, coming over to her and backing her into the wall. "I can tell you right now, he's already agreed. He has conditions, just like he had with Rhysand." His arms came up, caging her between him and the wall. "The first of which is I do not get to be daddy, or sir, or show possession of you, and that's fine. The second is you had to offer submission willingly without him pressing you."

She nodded, they were similar rules to the ones he had with Rhysand. "I still need to talk to him before I agree."

"I know, princess," he was ranging pet names with her, she quickly figured out. Trying to see which one his brothers had not taken to ensure he had his own name for her. That one struck, he scent her arousal immediately. Cassian leaned forward, his mouth near the soft shell of her ear. "Don't make me wait too long, Lyria. I'll see you tomorrow for our session."

He pulled away from her, walking out the door with a soft goodnight. Once the door clicked shut, Lyria sunk against the wall, arousal flooding her mind. Her hand quickly found her heart, feeling it beating erratically as she took long deep breaths.

She had not noticed her mate appear until he was in front of her, ripping her leggings down and the tank top from her body.

Azriel quickly sunk two fingers into her soaking wet heat, making her back arch as he rested his forehead against hers. "I got you, babygirl."

He began pulling her apart. Lowering her completely to the floor. His hand found her throat as he pulled his fingers in and out of her the way she liked. "Does the idea of having Cassian inside of you turn you on, Lyria? Hmm?" He smirked as she whined, back arching as shadows began to play with her nipples and hold her hands down. "Or is it knowing Nesta wants to lick this pretty pink cunt until she's drowning that has you pent up?"

Lyria felt heat filling her body again as shock set in. Cassian had not even mentioned the possibility of Nesta touching her. Of gorgeous, gorgeous Nesta with her long hair buried between Lyria's legs. "Oh?" Azriel teased, slowing his fingers down. "Did Cassian not mention Nesta wants you, babygirl? Did he not mention how Nesta has started buying toys to fuck you with?" Azriel felt feral as he watched her writhing on the ground. "I can see it now. Cassian and I sat in chairs with whiskey in hand, watching Nesta dominate you while my shadows hold you down and keep you vulnerable to her every whim and wish. Her making you cum again and again and again until your squirting and begging for a break." He could feel his cock struggling, aching to be freed from his pants.

"Or imagine this for me," his fingers picked up pace again, hitting the spongy part of her walls and making her cry out. "Me with you naked in my lap, only letting you cum when Nesta thinks Cassian is being good enough. Or her forcing him to eat you out while I fuck her and he can only listen."

The deep growl in his voice had her tightening around his fingers. He groaned listening to the wetness of his fingers inside of her. "So delicous, babygirl. Making such a fucking mess on the floor. Should I make you lick it up while I fuck you? Do you want daddy to fuck you?"

Lyria nodded desperately, "Please daddy, Gods please!"

Azriel wasted no time, ripping his own clothing at the seams. He flipped her to her hands and knees and buried himself deep inside on his mate. He pushed her head down to where a small puddle of her slick had pooled on the floor. "Clean it, little whore."

He fucked her brutally. Holding her head down and watching as she licked her arousal and essence up. He immediately looked to find his and her high as quickly as possible after Ness had riled him up, whispering in his ear all the things she wanted to do to Lyria. All the things Azriel would now be stroking his own cock picturing until they came to life.

Lyria was just as desperate. The tension between her and Cassian had built when she was teaching him how to dance. She was attracted to the male, his hands, his thighs. She was attracted to Nesta. Her aura, her body, her quick wit. Her mind snapped back to her mate as that coil began to threaten to pop, but she knew better. She knew better than to cum without his permission. "Daddy, can I cum please?" His hand found her throat again, growling in appreciation for her submission.

"Cum on my cock, babygirl." She soaked him, screaming his name, chanting it over and over like a mantra as she milked him. He fell over the edge quickly after she did, collapsing onto his forearms on top of her.

The room was filled with the sound of their labored breathing and with the scent of sex. She opened the windows using her magic, knowing she'd have to air out her home before clients came tomorrow.

Azriel pulled out of her, falling to his back while pulling her on top of him. "You are under no obligation to say yes, Lyria." He stated as his hands began to run through her hair. He kissed the top of her head. "Your hands have been hurting today, I felt it through the bond."

Lyria nodded, lifting her hand that hadn't tangled itself in Azriel's dark hair. "I might need to take a week off," she admitted softly. "It's just so hard to say no. I've been working with anywhere from 8 to 15 clients a day depending how much time they book."

Azriel hummed, his chest almost vibrating with the deep sound. "Maybe we could go to Dawn for a week. Rhys has a cabin there near a river. Whenever my hands start to bother me, I go there and lay in the river."

"Cold therapy?" Azriel nodded at the question, admiring his mate's intelligence once again. "Do you want to?"

Azriel knew it was a double question. He looked at her, raising a brow. "Of course I'd love to sit naked with you in a river."

She shook her head, smiling. "Do you want to have an arrangement with Nesta and Cassian?"

He had already brought it up to Rhys and Feyre after talking to Nesta. The two of them did not care. They were as eager to share Lyria and Azriel's love and devotion with Cassian and Nesta as they were to take it for themselves. They just wanted a rotation and schedule worked out between the 6 of you to ensure Rhys still got his time with Lyria and Feyre her time with Azriel. An easy task in all honesty. "I am not against the idea. But it is your comfort level, my spark." He kissed her lips before moving to stand up with her and carry her to the bedroom. "Just let Cassian know tomorrow what you decided or if you need more time."

Lyria prepared the room for Cassian, her last client of the day. She switched to the custom table she had made for him and Azriel a few months ago, heating it with her magic before adding on the soft coverings and lighting Cassian's favorite candles that he said reminded her of a rainstorm in the mountains. She created that atmosphere with her powers and then waited.

She had Cassian for 2 hours. He had booked a longer session knowing that this would be his first massage since coming home from a 4 week trip the training camps. She had been working with Madja on a special oil and lotion for massages and was excited to use it for the first time on Cassian, knowing the general was open to anything when she had his muscles bending to her every will.

It was made with a certain herb she and Madja kept quiet from Rhysand due to its taboo nature. It had been shown time and time again by countless healers to aid in stopping inflammation, provide pain relief, and it's a wonderful moisturizer, but for some reason a certain High Lord, her father, refused to see use in allowing easy access and regulation to it despite seeing how it had saved Spring's economic state.

A knock pulled her from her thoughts of Beron's stupidity and went to the door, opening it for Cassian with a smile.

"Hello gorgeous," he smirked at her, "what do you have planned for me today?"

She lead Cassian down the hall. "I was thinking we'd do a deep tissue with hot stone mixed in since it's been awhile. I have you down for 2 hours and if we need longer, that's totally fine since you are my last one for today."

Cassian was thrilled with the idea. Silently thanking the Mother that Lyria always seemed to know what her clients needed. "Sounds good, princess. Azriel said you had a new oil you wanted to use today?"

Lyria nodded and bit her lip. "You can say no," he nodded and raised his brows. "It's made with mirthroot. You won't get high from it, but it has so many benefits to the muscle system regarding swelling, inflammation-"

"Princess, I've been using mirthroot off and on since before you were born. I am perfectly fine with you testing it on me. So would Rhys and Azriel."

He smiled as she squealed and bounced in place. "I'll let you get comfy then! You can pick which side we start on or if you just want to do your back today!" He watched her practically skip from the room with a small smile and shook his head.

He laid on his stomach, covering himself as he got comfortable. He had hoped she'd be willing to focus on his back, but knew from Azriel her hands had been killing her the past 2 or 3 days. Rhys wanted to take Lyria on a little vacation, all three couples, as did Azriel. Rhys was hoping on that vacation he'd be able to convince her to cut herself back to 5 to 8 clients a day with a few days off throughout the week instead of just evenings off. They, as selfishly and selflessly as possible, did not want her to have to stop her little business.

Rhys has spent years trying to find a massage therapist as skilled as she is. He'd have to spent a millenia trying to replace her.

She re-entered the room, dimming the fae lights. "Just your back today then?"

"Yes please."

Lyria knew Cassian was asleep 30 minutes into the massage, he always was. He has told her once it was that special time during the week where he could just focus on himself, on his body, his spirit. It was his self care time, and that had always been a high compliment for her. She worked his shoulders, feeling knots she had previously gotten out trying to form again and sighed as she realized she needed a better angle to get them out.

The professional line between her and all of the Inner Circle had blurred when Azriel and her were officially known as a couple. She was given liberties and consent with their bodies and with them topics of discussion with her. She climbed on Cassian's back, not fully setting her weight into him, to dig as gently as she could into the spot between his wings that was getting tense again.

All three of the males had this problem. It was just worse for Cassian for some reason. It was an area the two of them focused on intensely in their sessions, sometimes to where Cassian told the female she was a tiny torturess and terrorist. "Cassian," she stroked his back lightly to wake him.

"Oh top of me already, princess? Could have at least let me roll over." His deep voice was laced with sleep causing it to be slightly gritty. "It's back, isn't it?"

"Mmmhmm," she confirmed while rubbing his back. "If I get it now, it won't be as bad as if we wait again."

He groaned, wings falling in a little temper tantrum, "Fine. Just, get it over with. My safeword is pineapple."

She laughed as she got started. "Does Nesta make you use your safeword a lot?"

Cassian chuckled below her. "No. Your mate used to though when he, Rhys, and I all used to fuck around." They both tensed at the quiet confession. "I didn't tell you that."

"Oh yes you did." Lyria dug into the knot, rolling her elbow in it. "Tell me Cassian."

He let out a slightly pained moan, "We used to bring a single female back to Rhysand's mom's cabin and take turns with her or fuck her two at a time with the third brother shoved down her throat. If it was just one at a time, while one of us was enjoying the fairer sex, the other two would be enjoying each other."

"Oh?" Lyria was blushing. "And they enjoyed this?"

Cassian would have looked back at her offended if her elbow wasn't currently dug into the sole source of his discomfort the past few weeks. "Lyria, I have never failed to make a female cum at least twice in all my sexual interactions. Of course they enjoyed it." She released the hold in Cassian, rubbing the area gently again to feel where the knot had broken into small pieces. "Azriel used to be rougher than I think he is with you. Especially with Rhys and I because he knew we could take it."

"I've told him to stop holding back," she confessed. "I figured he wanted more."

She mentally cursed herself as her hand made contact with the leathery membrane of Cassian's wing as she reached for the oil. "Lyria," Cassian growled in warning.

"I'm sorry I-" She couldn't respond quickly enough, Cassian had somehow found a way to turn with her on top of him, setting her down directly on his hips and holding her there with his hands. "It was an accident, I swear."

Cassian's eyes were animalistic as he studied her. "I need your answer now."

Her hands had fallen to his chest, her eyes had gone wide. "Lyria. I was told I do not get to come home until you say yes. Give me your answer now so I can argue with you and change your mind if I have to."

The word fell from her mouth with hesitation. "Yes." Cassian's head fell back as he groaned, gripping her hips tighter. "What are the rules?"

"Only that we have to keep the bonds open." Cassian was eager to start playing with Lyria immediately. He began to grind her core against his hard length with a groan. "Azriel already told me if you agreed I could have fun with you today. Nesta just wanted me to tug the bond twice if you agreed so she could come watch."

"I don't know if I want to do anything today. This is supposed to be me massaging you and taking care of your body." Cassian smirked. Her words said no, but the faint wetness he could feel from her said yes.

"Are you sure? I can roll back over, princess. We can plan an official start date and sit down. Or I can give you a fun quick ride. Your choice."

"I'd like talking to Nesta first more." She hadn't even gotten to see Nesta yet to speak to her friend about this agreement. She understood why. The dynamic between her and Azriel was clear as day. That daddy babygirl dynamic showed them the control he had over her sexually. "I want to talk to Nesta first."

Cassian smiled and nodding. His respect for the youngest Vanserra grew, as did his adoration of her, at the respect she was giving his mate. His Ness. "Then let's get this wrapped up so I can fly you to the house, princess."

The flight to the House of Wind of the fastest she had ever taken. Cassian strolled in the doors, still carrying her. "Ness, I'm home momma!" He walked through the entryway, smiling as he got to the living room. "And I brought a snack."

Lyria waved at her friend, laughing as Nesta began to snicker. "The snack's mate is upstairs in his room. You should leave her here with me and go get him." Cassian set her on the sofa opposite to Ness before bounding up the stairs.

For the 3rd time in under 24 hours, Lyria was under the gaze of a predator waiting to make her it's next meal. Ness moved to the sofa with her. Almost cornering her between the arm of the furniture and her own body. "Don't you just look," Nesta paused, looking her over, breathing in the faded scent of her arousal. "Tasty today?"

She tucked a long red strand of hair behind Lyria's pointed ear. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too," Lyria admitted. "I wanted to talk." She became distracted quickly as Nesta trailed a long finger down the column of her neck. She raised a perfect arched brow waiting for her to continue. "About the arrangement."

Nesta's eyes sparkled with something Lyria instantly realized was arousal. "What's there to discuss? You are free use for Cassian, Azriel, and I. The bonds stay open at all times."

"What about boundaries?"

"Do you have boundaries, pretty girl?" Nesta began to kiss her throat. "Anything you don't want us to do, you just say the word and we stop." Cassian and Azriel had come back downstairs. Sitting across from them and watching as Nesta kissed up and down her neck, nipping along the way. "What's her safe word, Azriel?"

Her mate was smirking, shirtless in his sweatpants as he leaned back. "It's a color system. Green is good, yellow is slow down, orange for when she needs praise to continue, red for stop completely."

Lyria knew she was drenched at this point. Falling into that safe place and haze she always did with Azriel. "Fuck," her mate groaned as sensed it down the bond. "Free use, Nesta." He reminded the oldest sister.

Her hands were squeezing Lyria's breasts, playing with her peaked nipples through the fabric. "Cassian, undress my toy for me."

"Yes, mistress." Cassian pulled Lyria up, forcing her back against his chest. He had started to lift her shirt until Nesta tutted.

"Rip them off of her. She made us wait. She doesn't get fully gentle." Lyria whimpered as Cassian grabbed the tanktop she was wearing and tore it, then her bra, pulling the fabric from her body. "Just the seam of her leggings, they're wet enough." Nesta commanded as she removed her dress. Cassian's hand trailed from her collarbones down, stopping to pinch both of her nipples and making moan. Nesta was bare on the couch, legs spread wide as she began playing with herself.

Lyria gasped as Cassian reached her soaked core through her leggings. Both hands tore the ruined fabric with easy. "Play with her but don't let her cum. I want her punished for making us wait."

"Of course, mistress." Cassian forced her into his lap on the chair, forcing her legs to be spread wide for Nesta to watch.

"What a pretty pussy, Azriel. No wonder you've kept her to yourself." Lyria watched as her mate moved behind her and Cassian.

"You were given an order, general. Do not disobey your mistress. We do not want to have to punish both of you." Cassian's calloused fingers immediately found Lyria's folds, gathering her wetness before circling her clit and making her moan out. "Good boy," Azriel praised. His hand found Lyria's chin, ripping her gaze away from him and forcing her to watch Nesta. "She's been dripping like that for you for several days, Lyria." His mate whimpered. Drool forming as she saw Ness gather her own juices and squeeze her breasts with the other hand. "I expect you to lick her clean when she's done with you, babygirl. Do you understand?" Cassian chose that moment to push a single thick finger into her, making her cry out and wiggle against him.

Azriel watched, a smirk building on his face as he realized slowly they may get to truly punish Lyria. "One," Azriel began to count. Cassian curled a finger into her gspot, and Nesta picked up speed with her own teasing touches. "Two," Lyria's brain was screaming for her to say "yes daddy," but she was too lost in the feeling of Cassian pushing in a second finger, stretching her cunt. "Three," Nesta's smirk had grown feral, her moans picking up as she grew excited about them getting taken to Azriel's dungeon. "Last warning, babygirl. Four," Cassian curled his fingers again, stopping any thoughts she had other than moan and panting. "You asked of this, baby. Remember that."

Azriel walked to Nesta, darkness surrounding them first as Cassian chuckled behind her, his fingers still playing in her sloppy cunt. "I can't wait to see you, dripping, chained, and bruised by my mate." He whispered as he kissed her neck. "Be a good girl and cum for me. Cum on my hand, princess." His palm pressed down on her bundle of nerves and she screamed Cassian's name. He groaned at how tight she became, at how her sweet cunt milked his fingers as her release coated his hand.

He took his fingers from her drenched core, raising them to her mouth. "And you've broken two rules." A deep timber came from behind them and Lyria stiffened her eyes going wide as Cassian pushed his fingers into her mouth and gagged her. "I hope you mentally prepared for this, angel." And darkness surrounded them.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #nesta x cassian #cassian x Azriel #nesta x azriel #nessian x reader #nessian x oc x azriel #nesta x cassian x reader x azriel

517 notes · View notes

itsabouttimex2 · 8 months ago

Note

Where's Wukong in LSO? Is he like retired and far away? Just doesn't want to butt into how MK is mentoring his student? Sorry if I'm being too noisy. Just curious about the au ^^'

(No worries, dear! I love answering questions about the things I write anyhow! 💕 I’ll go into a few characters here!)

Let’s Start Over

Friends and Family

After many, many long years… Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven… has retired, actually!

Our lovable Sage is kicking around wherever he pleases (with a strange shadow following him about), leisurely traveling the world and enjoying everything that it has to offer. He stops for fans and scholars alike, signing autographs and answering questions.

The ginger-furred simian especially enjoys visiting different zoos and aquariums to admire the animals- and they seem to like him, too. Old Sun also stops by local pastry shops pretty often, looking for something sweet and made of peaches. He’s got his photo hung on at least two dozen walls by now.

He’s got a pretty good thing going now. Wukong is more than content- he’s happy.

Of course, our powerful King’s not just going to leave an entire life behind.

He’s got a new kiddo to dote on, after all!

Yeah, this man adores you. Every other week or so he’ll come zooming in on his mystic cloud, blazing into view with a shower of vaporous mist trailing behind him.

‘Sun Yeye’, as he’ll frequently call himself, comes bearing gifts and stories. He’s in a better place both mentally and socially, and he’s grown more comfortable with physical contact- somewhat. He’ll ruffle your hair and ply you with something expensive or unhealthy, then bound off to chat with his loyal monkey subjects.

And… there’s someone with him?

As ever, this little rat is mostly unrepentant and prone to lurking about in the shadows. Still training and eavesdropping and scheming, just a little less cruel about it.

He’s slowly becoming a better person, off journeying with Wukong and learning about everything he’d missed while stuck in the underworld.

But Macaque doesn’t get to have ‘cool uncle/granddad’ title that the Monkey King has been bestowed, I’m afraid. After all, where Wukong was willing to accept his wrongs and shortcomings and actively work on them, Mac just kinda… gets away with his bullshit without ever trying to making amends.

MK keeps him at a full arm’s length from you, considering the sable simian to be not only a bad influence, but a dangerous one.

But, theoretically, if Macaque were to complete a list of intentionally nearly impossible tasks:

1. Apologize to every person he’s hurt

2. Make reparations for all the destruction that he’s caused

3. Acknowledge his own shortcomings and mistakes and try to become better

Then he might consider allowing you and ‘Uncle Macaque’ to meet up. Just for an hour.

Maybe.

As always, Pigsy maintains his grumpy fervor for cooking and serving, but in a far more lowkey fashion than before. Mei helped to hook him up with topnotch streaming equipment, allowing the chef to start a personal channel where he teaches beginner’s to prep basic meals and take care of their equipment.

He’s found some degree of fame with it, spreading his culinary skills across the internet, which quickly comes to love him.

And speaking of love- Y/N. Oh, how this man cherishes you.

MK gave him a grandbaby.

Ok, so he was a little worried at first. Pigsy thought that his son had gotten someone pregnant (irrational, but he was still worried!) and now was raising the kiddo as a single father.

Once all that has been cleared up, our favorite chef settles into the “granddad” role admirably, tending to you as he did to little MK.

He comes over every Friday to make a family meal for the three of you, and Tang always tags along- usually with a book that he thought you might like.

Although MK’s relationship with Mei has grown notably… strained, the two still keep in touch. She’s grown to be a massive streamer, and frequently competes in city-wide races as something of a celebrity. A decent chunk of her hard-earned cash goes to local charities or is spent sponsoring young racers that she sees worth in.

Mei is super dedicated to seeing the city grow healthier and happier, opting to visit and buy from only local stores and restaurants. She gives very fair reviews and often causes surges of growth for whatever business she stops in to check out.

She still finds time to game with MK on occasion, trying to bridge the gap that’s grown between the two in recent times. It’s not a phenomenal success, but they have fun and part on decent terms.

For what it’s worth, they’d both still go crazy if the other was injured.

Also, Auntie Mei??? Bringing you fun games and snacks and getting you a custom motorcycle helmet for the rides she takes you on (away from the crowded city streets, of course) and telling you embarrassing stories about MK.

(Also also, Goldendragon?? Moving apart from being friends and then reconciling into being lovers? Or even Chimera? In that final case Y/N is absolutely screwed.)

Mr. Tang, as always, remains a dedicated scholar and mooch. He’s still spending every day by Pigsy’s side and sampling his food, but now he’s got an audience eagerly watching his every bite. The internet loves this man, both for his honest enthusiasm for food and for his interesting historical lectures.

Tang switching from calmly explaining the history of jajangmyeon to outright squealing about how damn good the dish is the moment he takes the first bite.

Him and Pigsy have moved in together at this point, sharing the streaming equipment for both cooking videos and history lessons. They absolutely share the same channel.

(I cannot think of a name for what that channel would be called. Delicious History? Culinary Chronicles? Past and Produce? Freenoodles?)

I think that Tang would read to you as he did MK, sharing stories both old and new to keep you updated on the dangers you might face.

So much bonding over food. With MK’s permission, he takes you out to different stalls and shops to broaden your horizons. It also helps to build your social skills and the sense of community you feel with the locals.

Also, those Golden Cicada powers? He busts them out whenever you’re in danger, wrapping you in a sphere of glittering light. Actually pretty good at keeping you safe, all things considered.

The pacifistic view that Sandy has inherited is explored a bit more in this AU, with MK coming to view it as selfish, if not outright stupid.

If an enemy needs to be fought, pacifism is pointless. It’ll only get you and your friends hurt, refusing to fight when your assistance is needed the most.

If an enemy doesn’t need to be fought, every sane person becomes a pacifist temporarily to solve the issue in a non-violent way.

And in a world like Lego Monkie Kid? When fighting is frequent and necessary?

People are absolutely going to look at explicit non-combatants in a certain way.

The real value that Sandy finds in pacifism isn’t strictly for himself- he also doesn’t want to hurt anyone else or go too far in a fight, which are both reasonable. There’s nothing inherently wrong with his refraining from violence.

The main problem is that MK just doesn’t believe that Sandy would be able to protect you if you were in actual danger. Would he run away with you in his arms? Yes. Would he stuff you somewhere safe and force you to hide? Also yes. Would he take someone on, hand-to-hand for your safety?

It’s way harder to be sure. All visits are supervised just in case of a surprise attack

You, on the other hand? You adore this man. Sandy is great for the soul, giving you a chance to drop the training drills and stretches and pick up a paintbrush and put on some music. Also, kitties? Falling asleep on his couch and waking up covered in therapy cats with a cup of tea left within reach.

He’s just so good to you, and a perfect display of what healthy familial behavior actually is.

Here’s another person MK has soured his view of- Red Son. Given that he falls square into the “instead of actually becoming a better person, I gave up on being evil” category, our hero doesn’t have much fondness for the fiery demon.

Red has settled into life on the outskirts of Megapolis, working as an engineer/mechanic. If you’ve something strange/dangerous to build or fix, he’s your man. A fair price, and he doesn’t even ask questions.

His parents, who often visit, absolutely will. DBK leering down at you as you try to explain that an enemy threw a brick through the window of your tuk-tuk and if your mentor finds out he’s going to go full demon-hunter. PIF raising one eyebrow slowly as you trudge in covered in bruises, a new set of blueprints tucked under your arm.

The evil->helpful but menacing pipeline is real.

If you doesn’t know how to drive, Red’s a good bet for a teacher… if you can handle the yelling. Hit him with an ‘Uncle Red’ and he’ll loosen up a bit.

Also, taking into account his little insulting nicknames he has, like Noodle Boy?

Give that MK treats you like his own child, and may well even outright adopt you under certain circumstances-

You are absolutely getting called ‘Noodle Baby’.

(I’m admittedly not a fan of Spicynoodles, but that dynamic would be somewhat interesting to explore here. MK giving this one villain the ‘redemption’ card, not because Red Son has earned it, but simply because… MK likes him. It would be one hell of an angle for Y/N to attack him with.)

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Sun Wukong #Macaque #Pigsy #Mei #Tang #Sandy #Red Son #Let’s Start Over #LMK AU

156 notes · View notes

that-was-anticlimactic · 6 months ago

Text

i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.

#corey talks:)#this has been in my drafts forever but i saw something that made me have feelings and so i finished it and here take this iuygfcvghuij #i justgod the books are SO GOOD and barely anyone knows theyexist #and i think that's what makes me the kost upset #or some [people chose to ignore they exist or don't give them a chance bc... i don't even know why. ppl are just so quick to dismiss them #the books are so important to me (literally got a httyd book tattoo) and i get most book fans also like the movies #but it sucks bc i can't go through the httyd tag without being bombarded with movie stuff #i'll even look up 'httyd books' and half of it is still about the movies.#i'll look up snotface snotlout and only finds movie stuff even tho ig they changed his last name in the movies???#i'll look up camicazi and find it filled with astr*d. WHAT.#i'll look u toothless and only see the freaking nightfury. not the original.#like god movie enjoyers at least tag correctly. i get you want ppl to see your posts but the more i see movie stuff in the book tag the mor #i hate the movies lol like the movies are so much more popular than the books let us have our tags okay #sorry if any of this sounds bitter also i hope it doesn't sound like i want to argue or fight #this is just my opinion and i have feelings and i just want ppl to know there are books #also i am not shaming anyone who likes the movies like i already said you do you boo just don't come at me for doing me #bc yes that has happened to me multiple times :) which is one reason why i get so upset :)#i just personally cannot separate the two. i know some ppl can and i'm glad! but i can't and that's okay too #httyd #httyd books

70 notes · View notes

thevampiremarie · 2 years ago

Text

Heartless, Chapter 2

🔞 Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, SMUT

Your wedding night. Tags under read more.

Tags: degradation kink, praise kink, size kink, consent negotiation, they egg each other on, gaslight gatekeep girlboss reader, pet names (whore, love, doll, good girl, pretty girl, bitch (yes this is used as a pet name I promise))

You watch the military chaplain sort through the prepared marriage license while the world’s largest butterflies do artistic gymnastics in your stomach.

Soap is the religious one out of the two of you, the Catholic one. You would’ve preferred a judge and a courthouse wedding more than this. But there was no time, and the headache of getting an American recognized by the multi-national special forces whatever-the-fuck just wasn’t worth it.

So a chaplain it is.

Soap has told you little about the soldier you’re set to marry. In his defense, he argued that there was very little to tell. Lt. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley’s personnel file is too classified for a mere civilian, and there are only two single-sided sheets of paper’s worth of information in there anyways.

The bare bones - he’s British. (Of course, he is.) He wears a mask that he never takes off. He’s served many tours, in many places. And while Johnny was remarkably diplomatic about the wording, he did caution you that Ghost’s reputation precedes him and terrifies almost everyone who hears it. With good, justified cause.

Lovely.

But the cold, crawling fingers of desperation and the memory of the times when you couldn’t afford to go to the doctor reminded you of your priorities. And so you have agreed to bind yourself to some dude with a ridiculous, overwrought moniker.

After more than a few years of dealing with medical bureaucracy, military bureaucracy is hardly a match for you. You’ve come prepared with the family accommodations application filled out. You have copies of your identifying documents, birth certificates. The basic background check completed.

Once this is done and solemnized, Soap has volunteered to run it personally to his commanding officer like a good little messenger boy. An early wedding gift, he called it.

You’ve asked him for a Keurig just to be an asshole. And whether or not he got one, for real, Soap won’t say.

All that’s left is to… well. Say the vows and hope no one looks close enough to demand ‘proof.’ Like you’re in some awful fucking medieval romance novel. It’s 2023. You refuse to relinquish any bedsheets. Gross. And they’re expensive.

Lt. Riley still has fifteen minutes before the ceremony is supposed to start.

You’re only early out of an abundance of caution and anxiety. There was only so much sitting around in your old apartment and waiting for the clock hands to move you could take, not after you spent all night packing your life into your car and then climbed out onto your roof to watch the sunrise.

The next one you see, you will be a wife.

Even though Soap refused to show you a picture of Lt. Riley, you did your best to look somewhat presentable. For the pictures. And maybe a little bit for him.

The nicest dress you own, the jewelry you always wear.

Shit. Jewelry. Ring.

“Soap. Soap. I don’t have a ring.” Oh, that’s just your fucking luck, isn’t it? You have remembered literally everything. Your potato masher, your books, and the last of your immunosuppressants are packed into a cooler filled with ice.

Other than the one thing you absolutely need.

Your friend stares at you from the corner of his eye. “What do you mean, you don’t got a ring?”

The chaplain’s going to turn and ask what’s wrong any second.

Before he notices, you grab Soap’s bicep and drag him into a corner as the last of your forced calm flees. “I don’t have a ring,” You hiss as your polished nails dig into his dress uniform.

That’s something you should thank him for after this calamity passes. At least your maid of honor is appropriately attired as if this were a real wedding. Or maybe Johnny is a matron of honor because he hasn’t been a virgin in years? Whatever.

His exasperation is less than reassuring. “Alright. Calm down. Calm down, lass. We’ll sort that out later-“ The chapel doors open, cutting him off.

Wow. You thought that Soap was kidding about the mask. That’s a mask.

A balaclava. With a skull on it. Edgy.

Oh, but he’s tall. Taller than you, taller by a couple of inches than Soap. That must really piss your friend off. He is… very tall. And heftily built.

No dress uniform. Just a black sweatshirt showing ripples of defined, bulky muscles underneath and dark wash jeans. And eye black obscures the skin around his eyes, everything his mask doesn’t cover.

It seems impractical, though you can’t deny the shiver of awe that flicks through your nerves when Lt. Ghost meets your inquisitive gaze. His irises are so dark that you can’t distinguish his pupils, leaving you with the impression of looking into twin black holes.

Do you shake his hand? Do you…

You wait for him to make the first move, and he makes no move at all.

“Hi, Lt. Riley,” You say softly, almost timidly. First impressions tend to go better when you make yourself smaller.

For a moment there, you almost think he didn’t hear you. You watch him narrow his eyes as if you’re more than what he was expecting. “License?” He asks after a painfully long awkward silence.

You shove the other papers at Soap, so you have a spare hand to find it. And if you conveniently remain deaf to his protests at being used as a shelf? That’s what maids of honor are for - whatever the bride need.

“License? Oh- uh, yeah, here.” The half-completed form crumples slightly in his hand. It’s from those bulky gloves, and you die a little inside at the sight.

When he hands it back to you with a messy, scrawled signature at all the highlighted blanks, you turn your body away to ensure he overlooks your vain efforts to smooth it out. “Just call me Ghost.”

Damn, this one wrinkle won’t come out. The chaplain will think you’re unprofessional. “Okay, Ghost,” You respond absentmindedly. He hovers in the corner of your eye like his namesake, which is annoying. It’s not as if you’re hiding a fucking bomb over here-

And you stop thinking that immediately. You know, in case they can read minds in this heavily guarded, highly secret special forces base or utilize some tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist's secret weapon. That’s mostly an inside joke you have with yourself. You leave a little room for healthy paranoia to offset the healthy humor.

The chaplain and his small glasses interrupt now that the groom has arrived, and you hand him the still-messed-up license with an embarrassed flush on your cheeks. Thankfully, he takes it without complaint. Maybe a little judgment - and then you remember you have that issue with the rings. There will be more judgment to come.

“Are you ready to begin?” The middle-aged man asks.

Ghost nods almost at the same time you do.

“We are gathered here in the presence of this witness for the purpose of uniting in matrimony Lt. Simon Riley and…”

You tune out the entirety of the cookie-cutter wedding ceremony. The chaplain goes on and on, all sorts of shit about love and forever that you know he has to say but is remarkably humorous in light of your circumstances.

Lt. Riley’s eyelashes are blonde. You couldn’t see it before, but now that you’re inches from him, you can’t look away. They’re a pale platinum blonde that stands out against his dark eyes like threads of ice, and you count each one. Fascinating.

The chaplain clears his throat, then gestures for Ghost to take your hand.

The glove stays on. But he is gentle about it, gentler than what seems natural for his movements. “Do you take Lt. Riley to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish as long as you both shall live?” That’s laying it on a bit thick, you think.”

“I do,” You say, voice low and confident.

“Do you, Lt. Riley, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish as long as you both shall live?”

Something shifts in his gaze. He tilts his head to the side and tracks the features of your face, your full mouth, and your cheekbones. “I do.” You wouldn’t even know where he was looking, had it not been for the stark whites of his eyes darting back and forth.

“The rings?” Your officiant asks.

You hear Johnny stifle a chuckle. Damn him for standing so far away; if he were closer, you’d step on his foot with your heel. “We- the rings are in the mail. They haven’t gotten here yet.” You smile winningly as you hold the chaplain’s bemused stare, practically daring him to call out your poorly-concealed lie.

Ghost hasn’t let go of your hand this whole time. Even he lets out a small huff after seeing your perfect poker face.

“I see. Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

You won't kiss him in front of everyone if he doesn’t lower his mask. As he obviously won’t, you stand on your very tippy-toes and kiss his cheek like you’re at a middle school dance.

Then it’s done, and you’re married.

Ghost pulls his hand back as if you’ve burned him, then steps away before you can ask him any questions.

Just as you try to chase him- “Congratulations, lass,” Soap exclaims, sweeping you into a hug that lifts you off the ground.

It’s got a hell of a lot more than excitement in it; you can feel his relief, and he goes as far as to kiss your forehead like a brother before letting you down.

There’s nothing on earth you can do to repay him. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.” For a moment, you’re children again—two kids against the world.

Johnny takes the license and the rest of your paperwork. “Gotta run this to Chief Laswell. But- you’ll be fine. Don’t be too scared.” You can tell he’s fucking around, but there’s an edge to his voice that you don’t love.

No person can be scarier than a hospital bill. “Worry about yourself, Johnny,” You tell him.

It takes a second for the steel in your eyes to reassure him. Eventually, he nods. “Good luck.” Then he makes his way to Ghost.

They speak in murmurs too quiet for you to hear, and you can see Soap grip his forearm tight enough to bruise. Then they come to some sort of silent consensus. Ghost’s mask gives away absolutely nothing, but your friend seems satisfied enough.

“Uh- pardon me, I’m sure Lt. Riley and yourself are eager to… celebrate the evening.” The chaplain’s acting like you and Ghost are about to start going at each other right here, right now.

That is a known stereotype for hastily-married couples, and he’s probably seen some traumatizing things in this very chapel. Either way, you coordinate a retreat into the hallway to give the poor man a break.

Ghost holds the door open for you, and you wonder what torture Soap promised to get him to do that. He doesn’t seem pleased. You’d tell him that he doesn’t need to bother, but you’re not so invested in Ghost’s immediate happiness, and that’s a lot of work.

Someone’s waiting for you in the corridor. A poor uniformed soldier has been conscripted into acting as envoy on behalf of the Special Forces, and he asks you both to follow him to your temporary quarters.

Right. Yes.

Ghost doesn’t say a word. He matches your steps with uncanny accuracy, and you’re beginning to understand why people sincerely call him by his preferred moniker. It’s fucking freaky, how quickly and efficiently he moves without any sound at all. You might even forget he was there if not for the heavy, uncomfortable weight on your back that reminds you he’s still watching.

Then the soldier rounds a corner and presents you with an open door. The lights are on, and a bouquet of fresh flowers is on the table inside with a little white card.

Your guide hightails it out as soon as you’re through the doorway.

And then Ghost closes the door behind him.

You and him. Alone. There’s no one in the other room or close enough to hear if something goes wrong.

You watch him keep himself busy, circling perimeters and learning exits and entrances, and you think… you wouldn’t mind it if something went wrong.

Reading people is something that can’t be taught, not really. You’re lucky to have come out of the womb with that ephemeral quality clutched tightly in one hand. While the mask makes it difficult, you are… learning. You are noting shifts in posture, inflections of voice, where those dark eyes linger.

You need to collect more data.

“Do I have to call you Ghost? I can’t just call you Simon?” Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and the tension in the air tastes electric on your teeth. It will be a coin toss to see which way that tension goes, you think.

“Don’t say that name. ‘M not gonna repeat myself.”

You’ll do as he says because now he’s staring into your eyes without flinching. “Hm. Fine.” Which is what you wanted.

Ghost removes his gloves for a moment to fiddle with his phone, and you can’t help but stare.

He has beautiful hands. Long, thick fingers, knuckles marked with a lifetime’s worth of scar tissue, more scars wrapping themselves like cords across the backs of his hands. Beautiful.

There are tattoos blanketing his left forearm. You can’t see them from here, and you doubt you’ll get to examine them in detail sometime this century. Tattoos are so personal, and it would take words a lot tougher than a question to get through his shark skin persona.

Gloves go back on. And he’s caught you staring. You don’t give a fuck.

You relish the challenge.

Like a feral raccoon or a bored weasel, you’ll push and push and push until you’ve found something entertaining.

Does Ghost think that if he menaces you in silence long enough, you’ll scream when he says ‘boo’? How cute.

Out of nowhere, he slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You’re lookin’ at me.” You could make a snide comment about noticing the obvious, but that’s not the fight you want to pick. Yet.

You’re far more intrigued by the issue of his ghastly, ghoulish, fearsome camouflage. “Do you really, like, wear the mask all the time? Even to sleep? What about eating? You don’t care about getting crumbs all over it?” Your voice would sound genuine if you put a little more effort into it.

Silence. He knows you’re trying to pry him out into the open, and he thinks he can ignore you until you give up.

Your eyes narrow. “Oh, come on. I’m your wife now. I’m allowed to ask questions.” Those fucking icy eyelashes. Your feet move before you realize it, bringing you closer to him so you can repeatedly run the contrast in your mind.

Ghost crosses his burly arms over his chest. “Not if they’re fuckin’ annoying ones,” He snaps back.

That’s one hell of a British accent. Not a posh one; working class, probably not from London.

Like his eyes, hands, and stature, his low, raspy voice is beautiful, too. “Isn’t that what wives are for?” You bait.

You catch his eye roll and match it with a dirty glare. “Do you ever shut up?” Ghost asks, advancing so quickly that you find yourself trapped against the wall, some primal flight instinct activated by his sinuous, menacing stride.

And you’ve been asked that very same question many, many times in your life. “Um… not really,” You toss out. Smugly, like you’re winning whatever fucked-up game is brewing between you. You totally are.

Like this, you must tilt your head to meet his furious eyes. “Fuck. That’s tedious.” Obviously, this is not nearly as tedious as he complains. He’s still here.

Your eyes flick between the door and Ghost’s mask, indicating he’s free to walk away. “Oh, I’m being tedious? Look at me. Look at me. Say that again.” Under your dress, your skin feels warm. As if he’s already touching you.

Ghost takes another step forward. “You… are… being… tedious.” Close enough that his combat boots touch your fancy low heels.

Kissing someone through a mask is very stupid, both in theory and practice. Just as you thought earlier.

Somehow, some way, Ghost makes it work.

Gentleness seems to be a foreign language to him; he wraps one large hand around your jaw, pushing you against the wall, so roughly that pain radiates across your scalp, and digs his index finger and thumb in until he’s holding your mouth open.

And that’s how he kisses you. Forcing you to be exactly as still as he wants and pressing his mask over your lips, and your eyes flutter shut as if this were a real kiss. If this were a real kiss, you’d have your teeth halfway through his bottom lip by now.

Great idea. Just as Ghost moves back, you nip his mask with your teeth. Nothing serious, no real damage. Enough to teach him something about you, more important than words can say.

For only a moment, it lifts from his face. Not in any type of direction where you can see more, but the fabric stretches, and it reminds him that that’s all his mask is. Fabric. Not metal or bone.

“Nah, don’t do that,” Ghost warns before leaning in again.

Fine. This time, you dig your nails into the tiniest revealed sliver of his pale neck as you kiss him until he’s forced to pin your wrist above your head with one gloved hand.

He seeks to chastise you again, but you put a stop to that by arching into his chest instead of away.

This sets the beautiful, pristine line of your neck on display as you tilt your head just the right way. You know your angles, and you bet he probably enjoys holding fragile things in his palms before crushing them the next second.

The unmarked skin above your pulsing carotid artery sure looks fragile.

And, of course, it invites Ghost to dip his burning gaze lower.

You look good. You know you do; you know that your cleavage pops in this dress, you layer perfume to be the most memorable woman in the room, and this confidence has been insulating you all day.

He’s not immune to it. His other hand runs along your exposed collarbones before dipping between your breasts. He takes the fabric of your dress between his fingers, testing the strength of the cloth and construction.

Wait, hold on, this shit was expensive. And unless he’s going to replace it-

Ghost has been too busy staring at your boobs to notice that he’s let go of your wrist, and you pounce on the opening. You’re out of his grasp immediately before peeling the dress off. Shame is for the weak.

His appreciative groan goes straight to your nerves, to your nipples hardening under your sheer bralette and your panties beginning to stick to your skin.

All that newly exposed skin and soft curves turn the desire in his dark eyes into a ruthless hunger.

You watch him walk towards you, circle you. He checks your ass out in the most blatant way possible, so you feel the compliment more than you hear it.

You turn to look at him through lashes all dolled up with mascara and make your eyes round, doe-like - as saccharine as artificially-flavored taffy.

Even through the balaclava, Ghost grins.

“Can I help you with that?” He asks, gesturing to the flimsy metal clasp in the center of your back that holds the bra in place.

His gloved fingers trail down your spine when you sweep your hair from your shoulders. “What a gentleman.” There are dozens of other more productive things he could be doing right now to get you naked.

He coaxes a slight, involuntary shiver from your spine when he digs his fingertips into the curve of your breast, and you dread what will happen when Ghost finds all the other weak spots.

Just as you’re about to end his fun and get this bra off yourself, he undoes the clasp. “Don’t want to ruin your pretty clothes.” A harsh, jagged leather glove edge clips your skin as he does so. While it won’t make you bleed, not even close, you feel he wouldn’t care if something did.

Fuck.

Instead of dropping both arms out obediently so he can slip you out of it all at once, you have the genius idea of sticking out one arm after another.

This forces Ghost to face you as you let the bralette drop.

A flush crawls up your chest, blooming pink and flustered between your breasts. “You think I look pretty?” You ask, barely suppressing the whine from your tone. It’s a real whine, one that speaks to how badly you want this to escalate.

Someone wolf-whistling at your tits usually makes you angry enough to hit them, but Ghost’s whistle makes the blush in your skin burn brighter. “Christ,” He mutters. The bone-white teeth on his mask distort, then stretch, like he’s licking his lips.

You spent a little extra time this morning hunting down a nice pair of lace-trimmed underwear, and now you’re thrilled you bothered. “Gonna make me wait forever?”

The answer is no. He’s on you in the next second, palm flat between your collarbones as he practically shoves you towards the bare regulation mattress, the kind of thing you’d see in a college dorm.

When you land, the slight impact takes your breath away.

But then he sees your thighs pressing together, your hips shifting, and your eyelids flutter. You’re fucking melting from that force alone. “You like it mean?” He wonders, half-mocking, half-genuine.

You push yourself up on your elbows, making your tits bounce more than necessary. Just to watch him lose his train of thought again.

You’re dripping through your panties, you can feel slick arousal on your skin, and he’ll know as soon as you spread your legs. “I like it mean.” Your smile is wide and beckoning. And filled with your own intentionally-grating menace.

After all, he’s asking the wrong question.

The right question is whether he can be mean enough, whether he can touch you with enough cruelty to make you come. Already, your pussy twitches at the thought.

Something glints in his sin-dark eyes. “Good. That’s a good girl.” No, he promised you something else.

“That’s not very mean.”

You get no further warning.

He braces one muscled forearm across your chest to force you down before shoving that hand under your jaw, so your face is entirely in his control. He keeps you looking at the ceiling, and you realize it’s so he can pull his mask down.

Dammit. You try to fight it, dip your jaw to see his face, but his grip is tougher than iron and so tight that it will leave bruises on your chin.

Then you feel his teeth bite into your throat, mark after mark along the length of your neck, and it hurts. It fucking hurts, and your eyes roll back into your head, skin on fucking fire. “God, real eager, ain’t you?” Ghost hisses as you cough and struggle for breath against his hand. “Haven’t known me for twenty-four hours, and you’re already spreading your legs like a whore.”

There are lingering kisses that are just shy of gentle, long lathes of his tongue along your sweaty skin, and then there are savage bites into the side of your breast, in between them, his fingers plucking at the hardened bud of your nipple.

Your mind is empty, completely empty, as your hips grind up towards his and the thick, heavy erection you can feel through his jeans. “You do that for every man who looks at you twice?” You can hardly hear him over your squeaks of pain mixing with pleasure. Now he’s slotted a knee between your thighs, giving you something to rock your covered pussy on.

“Only for the ones who deserve it,” You get out between clenched teeth, holding back your moans, so he doesn’t get that satisfaction.

He chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. “Fuckin’ hell.” When he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking, licking, sending jolts of pleasure through your nerves but hovering on the edge of real damage…

It takes an embarrassingly long time for you to put together a retort. “Jealous that you haven’t had a turn yet?”

“Naw, I ain’t jealous. Ain’t gotta be. I know you want me.” He punctuates his words by cruelly pressing his knee harder into your clit, wrenching a long, tortured sound from your throat.

If he keeps that up… already, something hot and vicious begins to simmer low in your stomach, a hollow ache.

Then he fucking lets up on covering you in marks to watch your face twist in rapture when he does it again. “Come on then, Lieutenant. Big, scary, mean Ghost,” You tell him breathlessly.

Again, his knee, your aching clit, you don’t wanna come all over his pants except you kind of do, and if he realizes that, he’ll make you.

His fingers pluck your nipple one last time. “Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ show you.” Then he shoves his mask on haphazardly, withdrawing his hands so he can pull his gloves off. “Take that shit off. Right now,” Ghost orders.

The fabric of your soaked panties rips a little in your enthusiasm to get them away from you, and you toss them in some corner without looking.

And as you hold his gaze, face flushed and dewy from his kisses, you part your legs.

Ghost is so taken by the sight of your glistening, aroused core that he has to sit back for a second and just… “Fuuuck,” He groans, eyes lidded with want.

You run a single teasing hand along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Still pretty?” Your smile is all teeth, hunger, and a promise that you don’t need him to have a good time.

He shakes his head. “I don’t fuck self-absorbed bitches,” Ghost warns. As if he isn’t literally rolling up his sleeves as he speaks. As if you can’t see his muscles strain and flex with the effort of not touching you.

His shoulders are so huge that he casts a shadow when he looks over you. “You will.” You pause to make a show out of sliding your wicked gaze down to his jeans. “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to your…” Then Ghost grabs your hips before you can finish your sentence and drags you to the edge of the mattress.

You hear him sigh through his teeth. “Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen. Prettiest tits, prettiest ass… Where have you been hiding?” It seems that he does, in fact, like you self-absorbed. You’ll drag more compliments from his mouth before the night is over, you swear it.

When you try to slip a leg over his shoulder before he’s ready, Ghost traps your soft thighs open and in place with his hands. “The United States of America.” Fuck. Fuck.

He strokes through your folds with two fingers, not deep enough to do anything but tease. Still, you jump as soon as you feel him brush your clit with a feather-light touch.

Ghost takes those two slick fingers and lazily holds them out in front of your mouth. “Look at me, and this is over. You hear me? I don’t give a fuck how much you whine or complain.” You take them in your mouth in a show of obedience that surprises him, eagerly lapping up your musk and the salt of his skin.

But not entirely obedient - you nip his fingertips before you pull away, and a string of saliva stretches between you. “I hear you.” Whatever. Avoiding peeking at his face is, like, the easiest thing someone could do to get eaten out.

He waits until your head is properly thrown back, and you rest a hand over your eyes, so there’s no chance you will look down.

As if remembering your reaction to his earlier mercy, Ghost takes his sweet fucking time doing everything but eat your needy, dripping cunt. Your stupid, annoying, evil husband covers the soft, plush flesh of your thighs in kisses, he licks up the arousal that’s leaked onto your skin throughout this game, he leaves more love bites in the crease of your thigh.

Asshole.

And it feels good. Of course, it feels good, and you’re already a squirming, pleading mess, holding back your sighs because you’ll be damned if he thinks you’ll fold with no effort.

When he finally licks a hot stripe through your folds, carefully sucking at your clit, your resulting moan fucking bursts out of your chest, drawn out and desperate.

You can feel him laugh against your sensitive flesh before he just…

Your hips can’t get closer if you tried, you’re caught between grinding on his face and trying to flinch away as he fucks you with his mouth, Ghost’s tongue moving with unerring precision to pour pleasure like lightning through your veins.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as he goes back and forth, licking, sucking, making your thighs tremble around his face. “Shit, shit, keep doing that, fuck-“ You beg, mouth open because it feels like you can’t breathe. The air tastes hot, like sex, like smoke and bourbon.

Ghost’s groans are barely audible over the sloppy, explicit sounds of his mouth coaxing more slick out of your core, all over his face. “You taste-“ He presses two thick fingers inside. “So fucking-“ It stings, it’s a stretch, he has to lap at your swollen clit with a delicate touch to get you to loosen up. “Good-“ Your muscles twist and spasm around his fingers, fluttering in time with each thrust.

Then he picks up the pace. “Ghost, Jesus, what the fuck are you-“ You sob, gasping as you try to get control over your body. He’s got every reaction, your vocal cords, your nerves, your needy, desperate cunt, entirely in hand.

His free hand digs into your leg, nails aimed to hurt. And like the whore you absolutely are, every time he does that, your stomach tightens further. “No need to say my name twice, love,” Ghost tells you in a voice as smooth as velvet, like he’s endlessly amused at your expense.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” You bitch before getting that knee over his muscled shoulder and dragging his hot, wet mouth towards your pussy again.

Your shriek fills the air when he bites, like really bites your thigh in revenge. “‘M busy fucking you. Come on, lemme in. Lemme find it.” His fingers-

They’re thrusting into you deeper, he slides his other hand under your hips to angle your pelvis up.

And then you feel him brush something deep inside your pussy that makes you clench as tight as a vice around his hand. “Um, fuck, I-“ Your back arches off the mattress, and you’ve got your eyes screwed shut in pleasure, your free hand flailing around as you try to just- just get everything under control…

You can’t think, can’t speak, he touches that patch of sensitive flesh inside of you, and it just wipes your brain clean, replacing everything with Ghost. “There we go. That’s it,” He coos at your helplessness, smug with the knowledge that all your bravado and rationality fail when his fingers fuck you harder, rougher.

Ghost helps you chase the orgasm gathering on the horizon, so powerful that you can feel it humming like power lines in your teeth. “Hn-“ Your moans rise and echo off the bare walls, and he drags his fingers inside you at the same time he places his mouth on your aching, swollen clit.

“Got 60 seconds to come, or I’ll stop.” It’s right there, just out of reach, like your skin is on fire and your body is so, so, so desperate for everything he can give.

Tears gather in your eyes. “No, please, don’t stop,” You beg, words garbled up with whimpers and cries, tears tracking down your sweaty cheeks.

Whenever your leg tries to hold him in place to fight off the pleasure or your core clamps down so he can’t withdraw his fingers, he fucks you harder. “Pretty girl.” Holy shit. You just need to breathe, to try and focus, but you can’t. It’s so- “Good fucking girl.”

You need to come. You need to come, you’re trying, you don’t want him to leave you like this, so much arousal pours out of your flushed, oversensitive core that it covers his wrist, and your hips begin to buck and shake. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1-“

“I- I’m coming, oh my fucking God-“ Your orgasm drags you down in a fury, pulsing hot and violent. Every muscle trembles and your whimpers reach a fever pitch. And Ghost pries at each scrap of your pleasure he can get, sucking and sucking at your flesh, and you can’t do anything. You have to let him swallow you whole.

You forget how to fucking breathe, and you’re sobbing under the hand over your face, trying to escape the sensation, but you can’t stop coming, clenching, chasing the high.

He lets you ride out the last of it on his hand, helping you through the aftershocks and gentling the pace of his tongue until you’re spent.

When that ringing sound clears from your ears, you sit up with sore stomach muscles and reach for him; mask be damned. Ghost gets the balaclava down over his nose, exposing his mouth shiny with your cum.

Your first real kiss is messy and slick, lips slipping against his and saliva going everywhere. His sticky hands tangle in your hair, and you gasp into his mouth from the sudden, sharp pain. It’s his turn to sigh when you nip at his full bottom lip, a deep, raspy sound that you could become addicted to very easily.

Your fingers slip under the edge of the mask - just where it covers his neck, and Ghost pauses for a moment, lips suspended over yours.

It takes three thundering heartbeats for him to return to kissing the air out of your lungs.

His hair feels short under your fingertips, bluntly cut to a regulation length. You’ve done it before for Soap when he first enlisted. You take your nails over the back of his neck once, then again, hard enough to make it sting.

“Bitch,” Ghost hums, and it’s the softest thing he’s said all evening. Like your teeth and claws are more impressive, more beautiful than your obedience.

Clearly, no one taught him how to behave toward a wife. “Manners.” This time, you draw a little blood from his mouth, and Ghost almost melts into a puddle in your hands.

“Let me fuck you.” He has one hand on your throat, not a chokehold so much as a loose necklace. A wedding ring on your finger couldn’t be more possessive than Ghost’s lingering, eager touch.

And when you press your forehead to his through the mask, he permits it. “I thought you just did.”

Something about his eye roll makes him seem younger. Lighter, more playful. “Let me fuck you again,” He tries. Yeah, no. You’re not a cheap date. “Turn around. Come on.” He has to do better than that.

The look on your face makes him sigh. “Don’t make me beg.”

Next time, he shouldn’t try and give you ideas. Definitely not for free. “What happened to ‘I don’t fuck self-absorbed bitches’?” You ask coyly. You could ask him for anything right now, you think, and Ghost would give it to you.

Pained, aching frustration blooms in his dark brown eyes.

“Jesus, you’re never going to drop that, are you?” Ghost is so cute like this, squirming in his own vaguely-repressed way. He answers you quickly, far more quickly than someone who’s only tolerating this would. “You were right.” The hand on your throat moves delicately across your shoulders, massaging your neck, all luxury and indulgence, a slow seduction.

His words are like music to your ears. “I usually am.” You’re a sucker for that specific compliment. And with Ghost determined to caress every inch of your skin, your arms, the dip of your waist, well…

You bat his wanting hands away and flip yourself over. It takes a little care not to tweak anything, but being on your hands and knees is better for your spine in the long run, anyway.

His large palm runs up and down the length of your back, leaving warmth wherever he goes—softening your muscles, getting you used to his presence when you can’t see him, until you’re relaxed and pliant on the bed.

Fabric rustles behind you. It’s the balaclava; he’s pulled it off and tossed it to the side. You can just see it out of the corner of your eye. “Spoilin’ me with this view, love.” Then Ghost kisses the small of your back as he kneels on the bed, covering your skin with appreciation as he makes his way up.

You can’t help your small, genuinely breathless laugh when he kisses the side of your neck. “Make this good, and you’ll see it a second time,” You promise. Then he palms one of your tits, and you grind your ass against his hard-on, so he doesn’t get too lost in the sauce.

He nips your earlobe. “I’m the best you’re gonna have.” When he withdraws, he takes all his warmth with him, leaving you cold and bereft. “Might be a tight fit, doll,” Ghost tells you as he unbuckles his jeans.

Ooh, doll. That’s a new one. You haven’t been called that before. You like it.

His fingers dip between your thighs, nudging at your clit until you’re gasping and writhing. When he works two, then three digits into your cunt, he stretches you out with brisk efficiency.

The slick sound of skin on skin - Ghost pulls his fingers from you to spread your arousal over his dick, pumping himself a few times.

“I can take you.”

One of his palms rests on your back as he carefully, so so, so carefully slips the blunt head of his cock inside. “Ohhhhh, oh fuck.” You go completely slack, cheek dropping to the mattress. He’s big. He’s fucking massive.

Ghost is hardly moving at all, and still, your pussy is trembling, desperately trying to clamp down on him, but you’re too stretched out-

He’s gasping, exhaling hard through his nose while he tries to re-adjust. The feeling of you squeezing him is unbearable.“God. My fuckin’ God. You’re-“ Ghost cuts himself off, and you hear him curse. He pulls himself out slightly, then pushes back in. “Loosen- loosen up a little. Please.” You can’t even make sense of his pleading, not when his dick is so big inside your belly that you don’t have room for thoughts.

When he plays with your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb, you feel the pleasure grow and churn and make you shake. “I- you’re so big, I can’t,” You barely succeed at getting out.

But- he rolls his hips again, and your body opens for him bit by bit. “Please. That’s it, that’s it, pretty girl. Doll. Good girl,” He chants.

And what can you do but let out an answering moan, a strung-out, needy, desperate sound for words your brain doesn’t know?

Your nails are seconds away from tearing the plastic mattress cover. God, if only- if only your cunt wasn’t stuffed so full. “Ghost… fuck, you’re splitting me in two.” He bottoms out, and he’s so deep, like he’s molding you around him. After a moment, Ghost starts fucking you in earnest.

“Holy shit, yes, right there-“ You gasp when his hard cock presses against your g-spot, your core shivering around him.

Ghost keeps at it with both hands on your hips to hold you steady. “I know. I know. I have you. I have you, love.” Your body trusts him to guide you through this - he’s sturdy and strong, and you feel every inch moving inside of you with his thrusts. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, Christ.” Sweat gathers at your hairline before tracking down your face to join the little pool of saliva below your slack, open mouth.

When he grinds into your hypersensitive, tender pussy, you shriek, his cock fucking the sounds out of your strained vocal cords. “Feels so good,” He groans in a shaken, undone voice.

Despite your fucked-out head, despite getting the best dick of your life, you find another ounce of spite you haven’t tapped into yet. “B-best you’ve ever, hngh, had?” You’re dripping around him, so soaked that the wet sounds of your cunt echo almost drown out your nonsensical, cock-drunk noises.

Ghost laughs before fucking you harder, determined to make you scream. “Yeah, best fuckin’ pussy. Best girl. Fuck. Fuck.” And just as he does that, you hear him lick his fingers before pressing them to your swollen clit.

Oh no. Oh no. Your pussy begins to tighten and twitch, and you didn’t plan for this, the pleasure sneaks up on you as you fight it, trying to keep your head above water and your body from… “I’m not gonna last, shit, you’re too good to me,” Ghost growls, relentlessly pounding into you.

Your stomach aches and screams with your orgasm, but you’re not ready yet, you need a second. You- he’s manipulating your body so keenly, you’ve never felt anything like it.

His hips snap into your ass, aiming viciously for your g-spot. “You’ll come again. Like this,” Ghost orders, then presses down on your back, so you drop your chest and cant your hips up.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can,” You confess, each sound chopped up and breathless as he fucks you harder and harder.

He keeps his fingers on your clit at the same pressure, same speed, and it feels so good that you’re going to start sobbing at any second. Your knees are about to give out, and Ghost’s thrusts get wilder, messier.

“Come. Come for me.”

You’re screeching, crying, wailing as you come. Cunt spasming on his dick, your lungs empty and howling for relief. Your hips keep pushing back towards him to chase the high. Each wave is more painful, more powerful than the next, leaving you a twitching, helpless mess.

You come so fucking hard around him that you think you were meant for this. It’s the sweetest relief, like hot fire licking through your veins. It’s all Ghost and the cock he’s breaking you open on. Your pleasure slices into your gut like a sharpened knife, and your slick covers his pants, your thighs, the bed below you.

He shoves himself into you one last, impossibly deep, painfully good time, and Ghost comes with a long, drawn-out moan as your muscles milk him. There’s a burst of warmth - except your spasming, still-orgasming pussy is packed to the brim with his cock, so you feel his come drip all over your trembling, weak legs.

When he pulls out, he slides an arm around your waist before gently lowering you to the bed. Then Ghost lays on his side so he can draw your bare, sweat-soaked back to his chest, tucking you into him. And while you’re insensible, he grabs the balaclava and shoves it over his face.

You come back to yourself in increments, your head hazy and filled with small snapshots of tenderness.

Ghost adjusts the open buckle of his belt, so it doesn’t hurt you or irritate your sensitive skin. Your hand seeks one of his blindly until he wraps his fingers around yours. He stops your shivering by unzipping his hoodie and draping it over your naked body.

Your heart rate slows to something more reasonable, and as your eyes open, you see his tattoos. He’s got your head cushioned on his shoulder, so your hair has draped itself all over his arm.

You can see monochrome shadows dancing on his muscled, scarred skin, skulls, bombs, and dog tags, all of it peeking out.

Beautiful. Edgy, scary, beautiful. “I like them,” You say as you outline a lovingly-detailed sniper’s scope with the tip of your finger.

He doesn’t laugh, he’s recovering too, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Not too shabby, eh?”

Barbed wire in that faded, blue-black color that tattoos turn with age, greyscale fire, and brimstone… “They suit you. And so does the mask.” Ghost exhales softly, air fanning out across your skin.

Then he shifts, tightens his arm around you, and brings you closer. “Thanks,” He murmurs after a long, substantial moment.

You try to banish the exhaustion creeping on you to the recesses of your mind. It makes your tongue slippery, makes the thoughts fall straight out of your head and into the world. “Yeah, no problem. Did you know that your eyelashes are blonde? I’ve been thinking about it since I first saw you.”

There are many other things you want to say, but you chew on the inside of your cheek and manage to stop them.

“Have you now?”

Aw, damn. So you did say that out loud, and he heard you. “Yeah. Yeah.” Each time you blink, you do it slower, like gravity is somehow increasing as time goes on, and you’re losing the power to resist it.

Where’d he go? “Gotta fuckin’… put some sheets on this bed. Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, love.” You poke your head up for a second and look around. No Ghost behind you, no arms cradling you.

Then you spot him by the door, shoving his keycard in his pocket. “Mmph.” You don’t lie down until he circles around and curls his palm around your cheek.

“I’ll be right back,” Ghost promises, and with his blessing, you roll over and close your eyes.

Tagging @abbiesxox @thedevillovesflowers @poohkie90 @averyyreads @lialacleaf @backupgal @kitty-satan1 @androgynoushellscape @555ilovecats @pinkwigonmytv @almightywdm @discowizard88 @castielsangelsx @jaymicrosoft @rengokulover96 @copiasratscheese @fluffysmiko @d3athtr4psworld @drugsaftersex @teenagegever2k22 @badame0224 @toilet-paper-headbands @itsrosebabe @bangirl134 @silverianni @nezukos-number1fan @deadpoetsandhoney

Idk how tag lists work so i guess just reply if u want to be added? and reply/shoot me a message if you want off!

Thank y'all so much for the support and love <3 <3 <3, the next chapter will be more smut, as well as the 141's reaction to your wedding!

One last thing - please do not ask a disabled author/person in general to disclose intimate details of their disability because you think their disability should limit them from doing something. that is very rude, and also very ableist. the only person entitled to my medical history is my doctor, and I've already had someone act entitled toward my medical history over this fic. i am super uncomfortable that i had to disclose anything at all, but i felt that if i didn't, they would pick a fight. my pinned post contains the comment i made on AO3 about this, including said details that I wish I didn't feel forced to tell people. I am not going to be responding to questions of that kind going forward. thank you.

(as always, dedicated to cuckoo <3)

609 notes · View notes

crescent-nyx · 6 months ago

Text

Jennie as your GF headcanon (SFW) - Dropped half of the letters or else it’s too long.

A- Affection: How affectionate is she with you?

Really affectionate in private. Jennie gets so much shit for everything. If she walks outside and steps on an ant, people will go feral, scrutinising why she stepped on that ant. Does she think she’s better than other living things? People always find something to hate her for. I think it’s netizens’ favourite pastime. So when she started dating you, she wanted to keep it low-key. She doesn’t want anyone to know, so even as much as hand-holding is off the table. At home though? Complete cuddle bear.

C- Cheeky: How cheeky is she?

A bit. She does goof around with you, pulls pranks, makes jokes… She’s just not like Jisoo or Lisa that play around 24/7. Jennie is pretty calm and she likes her quiet time. I don’t see her as the type to be bouncing off the wals from sun up to sun down.

E- Emotion: How comfortable is she expressing her emotions?

Jennie is very emotional and sensitive, and she can’t really hide that. She has no filter. She is very clear about everything… Her thoughts, what she says, her emotions, her opinions. She’s an open book. You can tell immediately when you’ve hurt her feelings. She makes herself very clear without saying much. You can just see it in her face. She also trusts you a lot. You’re the first one she comes crying to when anything goes wrong - anything at all. You’re always the first one to know, and the first one she allows to calm her down. You’re her shoulder to cry on, the one she will always come venting to, always seek advice from etc.

G- Gifts: Receiver or giver? What kind of gifts does she like?

Jennie is 100% a giver. She likes to make you happy. Whether that be by buying you something you pointed out to her a few weeks ago or making your favourite chocolate just because… She doesn’t really need a special occasion to spoil you. She just does it because it makes her happy to see you happy. As for her, she does like expensive gifts like a new perfume or a Chanel bag, but these are things she herself can buy. She prefers gifts that come from your heart. Like a photo album of the two of you or a scrapbook of your favourite memories, or a ‘100 reasons I love you’ book like she made for you for your birthday last year. Just anything like that.

I- I love you: Who said it first? When? How?

Jennie said it first… Rather quickly too… About on the fifth date. The both of you were stargazing. You had planned on just watching the sun going down at your place after dinner and then heading over to the cinema to watch this new movie that had come out. However, when the stars started appearing and the moon had come up, neither of you wanted to leave anymore. It was calming, healing if you will. Both of you just in your backyard, sitting on some beanbags with some snacks. You had downloaded an app, telling you which constellations were in the sky that night and where to see them. With Jennie it just came out. You were helping her spot Sirius, and she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. She just had to tell you.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“I love this… You… I love you… And this.”

Yeah, it was awkward, but genuine.

K- Kiss: What was the first kiss like?

Really awkward as well. Everything you and Jennie did for the first time was awkward. This was no exception. You were both ready for that step. You both just uncomfortably shifted closer together and leaned in too quickly I guess, bumping your foreheads against each other. Eventually, you got over the awkwardness, but yeah… It was definitely memorable.

M- Memory: What’s her memory like? Does she remember things like birthdays or anniversaries?

Jennie remembers everything about everyone. This is both a blessing and a curse. If you’re trying to surprise her, don’t lie about where you’re going, don’t change your story because she will know. She knows what you ate, what you wore last week, at what hour you went to bed, and what you like 😏

O- On cloud nine: What is she like when she’s in love?

Overwhelming. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it eventually… But definitely overwhelming. She can be a lot. She wants to celebrate everything - 1 week anniversary, 1 month anniversary, 100 day anniversary, 200 day anniversary, 300 day anniversary, 1 year anniversary… But, hey… More gifts I suppose 🤷🏼‍♀️ Jennie will also just swoon over anything you do. Even if it’s the most basic shit ever, she will act like you saved the planet.

Q- Queen: Does she like to be pampered? The princess/queen treatment?

Yes, ma’am… Definitely, most definitely. Jennie LOVES getting pampered. Doesn’t matter how. Just be affectionate towards her. You can’t really go overboard with her. She loves it all - pet names, massages, home spa dates, you painting her nails… She loves getting your attention.

S- Security: How protective is she? Who is the protector?

You. Jennie gets so much shit, she kinda needs you to look out for her. However, she will gladly risk it all when it comes to you as well. Sure, she takes her career seriously, and it would break her if she had to step away from it, but for you, she’d do anything. But you are definitely her personal security guard.

U- Unity: What kind of wedding does she want? Does she even want a wedding to begin with?

Jennie definitely wants a fairytale type wedding. Something with only people you both know, yet lavish and gorgeous. She’d definitely spend her cash on it - everything. She wouldn’t settle for anything that’s not perfect. She’ll only get married once, so she wants to do it right, with the perfect cake, the perfect dress, the perfect food, the perfect people. Probably something like the wedding in Crazy Rich Asians but without the mean rich in-laws and toxicity.

W- Wildcard: Random headcanon.

Jennie talks in her sleep. It’s absolutely adorable. I don’t think she’ll ever know how many pictures and videos you have of her singing or talking in her sleep.

Y- Yearn: What are her cravings when she’s having a bad day? What makes her feel better?

You, Kuma and chocolate… A lot of chocolate. Even more chocolate… And you, all of you.

#blackpink #blackpink jennie #blackpink x reader #jennie #jennie x reader #headcanon

50 notes · View notes

jamdoughnutmagician · 1 year ago

Text

A Cut Above The Rest

Mechanic!Eddie x Hairdresser!Fem!Reader

Good As New (Part 2)

Summary:Just as he promised Eddie fixes up your car, and you take a visit to Hawkin's library in the hopes to get your business up and running once more.

Word Count:1,626

A/N:Let it be known that this author knows absolutely nothing about cars or mechanics, so please don't come for me lmaooo

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

Masterlist Series Masterlist

After making yourself comfortable in Robin’s spare bedroom the night before, you find yourself waking up a little later in the morning.

Your head is buzzing with everything that happened. It wasn't just a terrible dream, he was just a terrible boyfriend. You push down the hurt you felt, not wanting to start the morning on a sour note.

Still in the pyjamas you wore to bed, you slide on your slippers and shuffle out of the bedroom.

"Morning Sleepy-head." Robin asks over her bowl of cereal, nodding over to the counter-top, telling you to help yourself to some breakfast. “Grab yourself a bowl!”

“Seriously Robin, Fruit loops?” you laugh, shaking your head at your friend’s choice over sugary breakfast cereal.

“What? I’m pretty sure it counts as one of my five-a-day!” She garbles over a mouthful of cereal. “Anyway, How’re you feeling?”

"I don’t think that’s true, Rob.” you say, making yourself comfortable on the couch beside her. “I'm holding up if that's what you mean" you chuckle half-heartedly, filling up a bowl of your own.

“So what’s the plan today?”

“Well I’ve got to go over to the garage later on today, Eddie said he’d try to fix my car.”

“Oh going to meet up with Eddie, are we?” Robin laughs, raising her eyebrows up and down, which earns her a matching laugh from you.

You shake your head at her, ignoring the insinuation that she was alluding to.

“Right! I should be off to work. Those books are not going to stack themselves.” Robin says, leaving her bowl in the kitchen sink, and grabbing her coat before heading out the door “The library waits for no woman!”

You busy yourself with tidying up to the apartment whilst Robin’s at work. You figure it’s the least you could do, since she’s letting you stay here.

Once you finish tidying up the place, you go to get changed out of your pyjamas, deciding on a simple pair of jeans and t-shirt, not wanting to be too dressed up for going to the garage.

You take a walk down the street where Eddie told you his mechanic garage was and sure enough there it is, Munson’s Motor Repairs.

You walk up to the garage and are immediately hit with the strong smell of motor oil that wafts through the air.

"Excuse me, Ma'am? Can I help you?" You turn around to see where the voice is coming from and are met with an older man. The remnants of his grey hair are receding, and his faded flannel shirt is stained with dark grease spots, his bright blue eyes are surrounded by a few wrinkles as he offers you a kind smile.

"Um, I was looking for Eddie? He told me he works here? My car got taken in last night."

"Oh, so it's your old Chevette out the back?" He says nodding his head towards the garage's yard out the back.

"Yup, that would be the one, Mr…." You trail off, realising that you didn't yet know this man's name.

He wipes his hands on the oil-stained rag hanging from his jean's pockets before offering you his hand in a welcoming handshake.

"Munson. Wayne Munson" he introduces himself.

"..Looks like that old chevy just needed a new alternator.." Eddie said as he strolled into the shop from the back. "Hey! There you are! I just finished up on your car, the alternator needed replacing, it's as good as…" he trails off, he couldn't in all good conscience say your old car was as good as new. "Well, it's fixed anyway." he smiles.

"Thank you so much Eddie!" You say, as you reach for your purse, "How much do I owe you for that?"

"You're lucky your car is as old as it is, otherwise it might have been a lot more expensive to replace these bits. That'll be $90" he tells you.

You rifle through your purse and hand over the handful of notes to Eddie.

"Thanks again Eddie! You're an absolute live-saver!" You squeal as you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

Eddie finds his heart warming. Fuck. Why did you have to be so cute?

He watches as you wave him goodbye, as you pull your car out of his garage.

“So, you wanna tell me why you’re giving this girl a $20 discount, or do I have to guess?” Wayne teases, standing with his hands on his hips.

Eddie flushes scarlet, heat rising from his chest and across his nose. Busted.

“I’ll work extra shifts next week to make up for it, I swear.” Eddie promises.

Wayne waves him off with a smile tugging at his lips, and a raspy chuckle.

“It’s alright son, I won’t tell anybody about your little crush” Wayne smirks, pretending to zip his mouth shut.

Robin is already home once you arrive back at the apartment, lounging comfortably on her sofa in front of the tv.

“Hey, thanks for cleaning up whilst I was at work.” She says turning to look at you over her shoulder. “How’d you get on in the garage? He fixed your car?”

“Yeah, he fixed my car…and…” you tell her, trailing off for a moment, thinking about how you had hugged him as you thanked him for his help. Oh god I hugged him! What on earth did I do that for?

"..and what?" Robin prods, hanging on your every word.

"I-uh..I hugged him.." you say, the heat of embarrassment burning in your chest.

"Ooh! Scandalous!" Robin laughs "Should I buy my hat for the wedding now or later?"

You playfully smacked her in the shoulder.

"I'm serious, Rob! What if he thought I was being, like, creepy or something?"

She turned to look at you, narrowing her eyes at your panicked state.

"Relax, it's just a hug, it doesn't have to mean anything, and besides if it's one thing I know about Eddie, it's that he totally wouldn't mind getting a hug, especially from you"

"What do you mean by that?" You question, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“You can’t tell me you never noticed how that guy used to look at you? He used to stare at the back of your head all the time in Ms. O’Donnell’s class!” Robin laughs.

“I can’t believe that you, my best friend, never said anything about it!” you shook your head at her, joining in on the laughs.

"I guess I thought he'd eventually man up and ask you out. I'm honestly surprised that he never did" Robin explains.

"Hey Rob, do you mind if I come by the library with you tomorrow, I wanna make a few flyers, see if I can interest a few of the residents of Hawkins for a haircut. All of my clients are back in Chicago and I need to drum up business. I can help you pay the rent."

"Sure, come on down, I'm sure Margaret won't mind if you wanna leave a few flyers in the library, maybe put one up on the notice board."

The next day you drive Robin to her job in the Hawkins public library, parking your car in the parking lot.

Hawkin’s public library had been standing proud since 1894, even through the devastation of the great earthquake of 1986, the building still stands tall.

Walking in with Robin, she immediately goes over to the older lady already behind the front desk. Her silver hair is styled up, with loose curls gently falling around her face, and her wire frame glasses sit perched on the bridge of her nose.

“Good morning, Margaret!” Robin shouts loudly and brightly.

Margaret is all too quick to shush her with a finger to her lips, once again reminding Robin, as she does every time she comes into work, of the number one rule of being in a library is to be quiet.

“Sorry.” Robin cringes. “Margaret, this is my friend, Y/n." She introduces you.

You wave a little awkwardly, offering a kind smile to the older lady.

“It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of where your computers are, please?"

She points down the corridor between two rows of tall bookshelves, stacked full of book.

"Down there, right between Science Fiction and Fantasy. There's some computers set up in the tech lab, my dear."

"Thank you so much!"

You make your way down to the computer lab, and sit yourself down in front of the big desktop monitors. You spend a few moments to make sure your flyers are as perfect as they can be with all the services that you offer and a list of the prices, as well as your business phone number for people to call should they be interested. You print out a handful of copies, and kindly ask Margaret if it would be okay for you to pin a copy of one of your flyers to the library’s notice board.

“Go ahead, Dear. It’s what it’s there for!” Margaret smiles at you.

You pin your flyer to the cork-board before thanking her, and giving Robin a hug and letting her know that you’ll see her back at the apartment after work.

“Oh no! It’s a Friday night! I’m treating you to a night out. We’re going to The Hideout. They have a live band there, we can have a couple of drinks, it’ll be fun!” Robin promises. “And anyway, I think after what you’ve been through, I think you deserve to let loose and have a little fun.”

Maybe she was right. Perhaps what you needed was a fun night out with your best friend to just unwind and forget all about your terrible ex-boyfriend.

@sunflowerdaydreamer @xxhellfiregirlxx @penguinsandpotterheads @munsonology @seatnights @avalon-wolf @jesssssmaybankk

#Eddie Munson x Reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson x reader fanfic #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #Eddie Munson x fem!reader fluff #Eddie Munson fluff

158 notes · View notes

madeleine-line · 11 months ago

Text

How they celebrate Valentine’s Day | GK x Reader

Sorry this is late, I have been very busy. Hope everyone had a lovely day yesterday and I hope you enjoy reading.

Warnings: modern au, short headcanons, just fluff, gn!reader, might be a bit OOC (I’m rusty ^^;)

Sugimoto

Sugi isn’t big on Valentine’s Day, but if you’re excited about it he doesn’t mind participating. He’s more of a gift giving type, so you’ll come home to your bed covered in rose petals with a big basket filled with flowers and your favourite sweets in the middle, as well as a large stuffed bear who looks strangely like your boyfriend.

“I hope you like it… I wasn’t sure what to get.”

Ogata

Hyakunosuke isn’t interested in the slightest, if you bring up the idea of celebrating he’ll roll his eyes and shake his head.

“You’re really into this kind of stuff? How annoying.”

But if you’re really that desperate to celebrate he’ll give in and get you a cheap card and candies. Unceremoniously tossing them at you whenever he has a free minute. However if you buy him gifts, regardless of what it is you’ll find him using/eating/wearing them. A bright pink sweater covered in hearts that’s totally not his style? Suddenly all his other sweaters are dirty and this is all he has to wear. A stuffed cat that reminded you of him? No he doesn’t sleep with it, but it does sit on the bed and he gets oddly upset when it falls off.

Tsukishima

Tsuki is pretty old school/traditional. You’ll both get dressed up and go somewhere nice- not too expensive, just somewhere respectful and quiet. He’ll treat you to a romantic dinner for 2, his treat of course. He’ll also take some time to remind you that despite his tough exterior he appreciates your presence in his life.

“I know I don’t say it much… but I’m glad that you’re here.”

Koito

This man will take any excuse to show off. You’ll receive more gifts than you could ever begin to imagine. Everything from expensive jewelry to nice clothes- flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, he would buy you the entire moon if he could. And of course you’ll both get dressed up to the nines and go to the most expensive, fanciest dinner possible. It’s impossible to not feel a little bit out of place. And don’t you dare look at anything in a store window or make any kind of comment about something you’ve been wanting/craving/thinking about because you can bet it’ll be yours.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself as much as I have, I’ve got a few more gifts for you once we get home!”

Tanigaki

He always gets a bit sentimental around holidays. He’s more than happy to go along with whatever you’d like to do- whatever would make you happiest. But he’d love to just stay home and cook something together, occasionally slow dancing in the kitchen as something simmers. He’s a simple man and he’s not particularly interested in the superficial aspects of it all, he just wants to spend some quality time with you.

“I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend tonight, I’m glad I was able to book it off.”

#golden kamuy x reader #golden kamuy headcanons #gk headcanons #gk x reader #hyakunosuke ogata x reader #ogata x reader #sugimoto saichi x reader #hajime tsukishima x reader #koito otonoshin x reader #tanigaki genjirou x reader #golden kamuy #my writing

114 notes · View notes

olsenmyolsen · 1 year ago

Text

A Night In The City

master list

dark master list

No Powers AU (Female Reader X Yelena Belova)

Summary: When a blonde excited to explore New York comes into your place of work, you end up spending a night you'll never forget.

Word Count: 5.4K

Content: Sadness, Mentions of Suicide, Sucidial Actions, Angst, Happy Ending, Kissing ;)

You were tired.

Tired of your job.

Tired of the big city.

Tired of not being enough.

Tired of liv-... well, everything.

You missed when you didn't feel this way, but times change. You guessed you missed the time to change, too.

So, as you logged another book into the computer for your boss Agatha, you briefly wondered what to have for dinner.

If you even felt like eating by the time you got home...

The bell ringing above the door broke you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see blonde braids surf past a bookshelf and to you.

That's when you saw her face.

Bright green eyes, small pink lips, and bushy eyebrows. Slightly chubby cheeks were a bonus to see. "Hello!" She said in a heavy accented voice as her body hit the counter. "I'm looking for a book about New York City!"

You looked at her like she was joking, but after a moment of her just staring at you, you realized she was not. "Oh." You said. "Umm, you're in the city now... but what kind of book are you looking for?" You asked.

The woman thought before it looked like she got an idea. "Any books on restaurants or parks!?" You nodded and started typing into your computer. "Let me just make sure we have any."

You knew you did.

"Okay." She said as she craned her neck to see what you were doing. "That's a lot of books." She commented when you clicked the page. You looked at her. "Yeah... you're looking for a book about the millions of restaurants in this city."

You didn't mean to sound rude, but as the words left your mouth, you knew exactly how you sounded.

The blonde took a step back with her mouth dropped. "Jeez, I hope everyone isn't as rude as you!" Her voice sounded like you actually hurt her feelings. "I'm sorry!" You started apologizing as the blonde frowned. "I didn't mean it that way!" You went to talk more, but you were cut off.

"What way did you mean it then!" She looked pitiful. You sighed and collected your thoughts. "I mean... New Yorks a big place..." She nodded. "I know that." She said. "And as opposed to looking at hundreds of books about the restaurants and parks that'll be way too crowded or too expensive, the best way to experience it all is by just going out, walking in the city. Taking the subway to the Upper West Side or even Brooklyn. That's a way to get the best kind of food."

The blonde was hanging on your every word as you spoke about the city you used to find passion in.

"Plus, I'm sure you'll have a great time." You added before your smile faded. But the blonde saw it. She took a closer step to the counter. "Okay." She said.

"Okay?" You asked.

"Show me." The blonde smiled and rested her arms on the counter before you. "Take me around the city."

"Uhh, I- what?" Did she say what you thought she said?

"I want you to take me around the city." She said without an ounce of a joke hidden in her words. Leaving you lost to find any. "I-I can't do that.." You said, causing the woman across from you to tilt her head. "I'm working, and I- I don't even know you."

The blonde made a flat smile with her lips before extending her hand. "Well, hi, I'm Yelena. Yelena Belova." She waited for you to take it until you did. Cautiously. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You shook her hand and took note of the black fingernail polish she was wearing.

"There, now we know each other. How much longer do you have to work?" Yelena whined as her hands dropped back onto the counter.

You peered over to the computer and looked at the upper right corner of the screen. "It still have over an hour, but-" Yelena groaned. "Fine. Give me a book, and I'll wait."

As Yelena looked at you with her pretty green eyes, you couldn't find the words to say that you couldn't do it.

Your mind was blank.

"You're really serious, huh?" You asked, making Yelena scoff. "Of course."

Another second passed between the two of you before you nodded and pointed Yelena in the direction of some sapphic novels you loved to kill her time.

As you watched her walk away, you found yourself looking down her backside to her ripped jeans and black boots.

Once she disappeared down an aisle, you were alone again with your thoughts. But this time, all you could think was, "What did I just agree to?"

Once Yelena sat down in a chair made for little kids, she began reading a book from the selection you pointed to earlier.

Yelena quickly found herself swept up in the details of a woman returning to her hometown for a job only to discover that her former rival was now her new boss.

It was cheesy and short, but Yelena couldn't get enough.

Except for when she did stop reading to look up and see you still working from time to time.

Yelena took notice of the things you did. How you acted. How often you pushed your hair back behind your ears. She quickly liked you and was in dire need of someone new. A friend, so to say. But she could tell you were somewhat guarded.

Troubled wasn't the correct word, but Yelena could see it.

It was quiet the last hour you worked. No other Yelena's came in. Leaving you to finish up logging the stack Agatha wanted done. And yet. Every so often, your eyes drifted back to the blonde in the green froggy chair. Her eyes were glued to the words she was reading, and you couldn't help but smile at how she bit her lip as she concentrated.

But who was she?

You pulled your gaze away and again tried to think of an excuse to get yourself out of what the rest of the night would bring, but you couldn't.

It was almost like your heart was on its last line. Giving you nothing so you'd jump headfirst into this opportunity.

It wanted you to keep going.

"Alright!" Agatha came out from her office in the back. Walking straight past Yelena. "Closing time, hon!" She said to you as she grabbed the stack of books and moved them elsewhere.

Yelena got up from her spot, pushed the froggy chair in, and started walking towards the two of you.

"So, any plans for the next two days?" Agatha always asked the same question, even if you both knew the answer. Except this time, when you went to answer, Yelena spoke for you. "Actually-"

"Oh my God!" Agatha screamed and turned around with her hand over her heart. "Where did you come from!?" Agatha exclaimed as she came down from her fright.

Yelena proceeded to look from her to you and back to the kids corner. "From over there." She pointed. "I was just reading." She held up a book you were very familiar with.

Agatha, of course, took notice of that.

"Ah, looks like you picked up one of Y/N's guilty pleasures." Yelena looked at you. "Really?!" She asked you as you still stood behind the counter. "Uhh yeah." You answered honestly.

Yelena smiled wide enough that her dimples showed, and you felt something in your stomach that you had not felt in a very, very long time.

"Well, I'd like to get it." Agatha quickly wrapped an arm around Yelena and pulled her to the counter. Yelena, not looking too happy about this, let it happen. "Oh, of course, dear!" Agatha said, taking the book from her hand and into yours. "Y/N could also probably show you a lot more that she loves."

You picked up on Agatha's secret message.

Yelena did not.

"Actually, Y/N is showing me all around the city tonight!" Yelena smiled with glee.

Meanwhile, Agatha turned her head to you with a grin. "Is she now?" She asked a clueless Yelena. "Yep," Yelena said as she went to pay for the book, but Agatha stopped her. "Oh, here, take it!" She put the book into a bag and quickly gave it to Yelena. "A friend of Y/N's is a friend of mine. Especially a special one like you." She not so slyly said as you clocked out and grabbed your bag from the floor.

"Oh, thank you!" Yelena seemed genuinely grateful for the book and watched as you came around the counter.

Yelena's eyes quickly scanned your black vans and high-waisted jeans. Traveling up, she could see the entire band t-shirt underneath the open brown jacket you just threw on.

When Yelena's eyes met yours, you both smiled.

"Okay, well, you two, be safe and have fun!" Agatha said as she practically shoved the two of you out the door. "Wear protection." She whispered into your ear before closing the door and locking it.

You rubbed your ear and did your best to forget about her joke; all the while, Yelena just looked at you as you both started walking.

"So where to first!"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, confusing Yelena. "Well, of course. Do you not? You agreed, remember?" She said, making you nod. "Yes, I know it's just..."

"It's just what?" Yelena asked as you stopped walking and faced her.

"It's just we don't know each other." Yelena rolled her eyes and started walking away, knowing you'd follow. And you did. "Y/N Y/L/N, we already went over this. We shook hands. We know each other now. Okay?" She turned her head. "Now get we just hang out and be friends."

You stopped dead in your tracks.

Hang out and be friends.

That sounded wonderful.

You smiled. Like a real smile. And started walking again. "Yeah. You're right. That sounds good."

"Of course I'm right," Yelena responded, making you laugh. She laughed too because she was surprised by your laugh.

You two continued your walk in silence. The only thing breaking it up was the plastic bag with her book hitting Yelena's leg every once in a while.

"Here."

"No, it's mine." She pulled the bag away from you.

"Yes, I know that. I was going to put it in my bag so you're not carrying it the whole time." You explained. Yelena just looked at you and extended her hand with the handle of the bag wrapped around her palm. "Sorry." She said.

"You don't need to apologize." You said in a softer tone as you took the bag. "I just... I didn't want your arms to get tired."

Yelena watched you push your hair behind your ears for what must've been the hundredth time that night.

"I'm sorry if this is rude..." You started as you and Yelena turned down a new block. "But where are you from originally?" You grabbed onto the straps of your book bag and waited for Yelena's answer. "Russia." She said.

Ah. That made sense.

"How long did you live there?"

Yelena thought about her answer. "We lived there when I was a kid, then came to America before going back. What about you?" She asked, not wanting to talk more about it.

"All over the United States. My dad moved us around a lot." You remember your childhood, and not many happy moments come to mind. "Do you like it here?" She asked, gesturing to the city as you passed by a fat rat eating a pizza.

"Sometimes." You said and quickly moved on. "What about you? Is it your first time here? I mean, I assume so, but..." You trailed off as Yelena started to talk. "I've been here a couple of times. But it's always been for meetings for work, so I never got to explore and stuff." Yelena said, and you watched the way her eyes danced across the sky and the bright lights of skyscrapers getting closer and closer. "But this time, I don't have work. My sister was planning on taking me around, but she ended up being busy."

That was new info. "Oh, you have a sister!? Older or younger?"

"Older," Yelena said. "Her name's Natasha. She lives not far from your shop."

You made a note of that. "Oh, cool! Do you think she's ever been by the shop?" You asked, wondering if you had seen someone that looked like Yelena before.

But you think you would have remembered if you had.

Yelena shakes her head. "Probably not." You looked from Yelena's side profile to the sidewalk before looking back. You loved her earrings. Slowly, your eyes moved from the earrings to her neck. You watched the way her skin disappeared under her top. "She just got a girlfriend," Yelena said, breaking you from your thoughts. "So I thought I'd explore the city by myself..." Yelena's eyes meet yours. "Until I met you."

There it was again. That long dormant feeling in your stomach being broken by a fluttering.

"It hasn't been bad so far." She then added, making you smile. "Thanks." You shook your head and looked up at the street signs, figuring out the best place to go, when Yelena ran ahead of you to the other side of the street—not paying attention to the street lights or cars that slammed on their breaks.

"I want one!" She yelled back to you, making you realize what she ran to.

A pretzel cart.

"At least it's not a hot dog cart," you thought as you quickly ran to her. Sending a flat smile to the angry cab driver, Yelena pissed off. "Here." Yelena handed you a hot pretzel before taking the cups of mustard and cheese. "It smells so good!" She said as you two said bye to the man pedaling the cart.

And without warning, Yelena bit into the pretzel still in your hand. Luckily, she wasn't anywhere near your finger. "Oh, my gofh." Her words muffled by the pretzel. "If ho goof!" You nodded to her and smiled as pieces of salt fell from her lips.

Yelena took your eyes off of her lips by pushing the pretzel up closer to your mouth.

You couldn't remember the last time you had a hot pretzel or one from a cart on the street. But one look to Yelena and her big eyes made you cave.

You loved it.

"Good, right?!" Yelena said after she swallowed but not before tearing another piece to dip into the cheese sauce. You nodded. "Bery goof!"

Yelena laughed as her body brushed up against yours, as the two of you found yourselves passing by a group of teens making music from buckets and their own mouths.

As you watched with a group of other people, Yelena stole glances to you like she had at the bookstore. She found something new every time she looked your way. Her favorite discovery was two moles on the left side of your neck.

She smiled as she thought about drawing a curved line underneath them to make a smile.

Because that's another thing Yelena discovered.

She liked seeing you smile.

She was glad she met you tonight.

Moments like these blossomed as you took Yelena into Times Square. She made you take her to an American coffee shop, aka Dunkin, before you took pictures of her in front of the giant screens and crazy stores that lined the streets.

And when you weren't looking, she made sure to take some of you.

For you.

If you wanted!

Regardless, you took her to the financial district and then to a place where the noise of the city seemed to stop, past the memorial and to the tip of New York.

"What do you mean it doesn't light up?" Yelena tilted her head before looking back to the Statue of Liberty. You laughed as Yelena shook her head. "She has a torch! It should light up!" You didn't say anything but laugh because, honestly, you agreed with her. How cool would it be if the torch was on fire?! "Still cool, though," Yelena said before turning around.

After that, Yelena and you found yourselves at a bar you've never been to after exiting the subway at a random stop.

What turned into you showing Yelena around turned into a random exploration of the city.

Something you would normally advise against, but you were having fun and smiling more in a couple of hours than you had in a long time.

To Yelena, she was having a blast and didn't want the night to end.

So, drink after drink and shot after shot, you and Yelena danced to whatever the DJ played and ate greasy New York Pizza while watching guys shoot their shot and miss horribly from the comfort of a booth.

"Oh, it's my Sestra!" Yelena picked up the phone with a bubbly glee before scooting closer to you and answering the FaceTime, not caring about the loud bar in the background.

Her face almost touching yours.

You smiled as you looked at your two faces in the top left-hand corner before focusing on the person filling the giant frame.

"Yelena, where- Oh?!!" A confused-looking redhead emerged from the darkness of the screen before turning on a light next to them.

It's clear that they were sleeping.

And Yelena called them. Not the other way around.

"Yelena, who are you with!?" Yelena's sister questioned as she looked from her sister to you. "Who are you and where are you!?! It's so loud!"

You went to open your mouth, but Yelena stopped you by pulling the phone to be in front of her. "Natasha! This is Y/N! She's sweet, so don't be such a grump!" Yelena scoffed before sipping on her red cocktail.

You scooted closer to try and listen, but it was challenging due to the throwback 2000s that was playing.

But your ears did catch: "I know she's pretty!"

You turned away and smiled at that before picking up your drink.

"Oh my gosh! Go to bed! Bye!!- yes, I love you too!" Was what you heard when you decided to start listening again.

"Sisters can be so annoying," Yelena said as she shook her head. "She seems to love you though." Your drunk mind said, making Yelena turn to you. "Well, of course. I'm the best." Her face broke out into a grin that made you smile wide. "And yes, I love her." She took another sip while not so subtlety scooting closer to you. "Apparently, she was sleeping." Yelena rolls her eyes.

"So the date went well?" You rested your head on your hand and gave Yelena your full attention.

Yelena's eyes ran up your arm. Past your small stick and poke tattoo that you talked about briefly when you walked through a park that she couldn't remember the name of. And up to your fingers, where she glanced over the gold ring you bought for yourself two years ago. Past your unpainted nails until she landed on your face.

Your eyes.

Yelena nodded. "I think she had an amazing night."

It wasn't an easy trip back home.

But somehow, you and Yelena made it to your place safely.

Okay. You don't know how you made it to your place safely.

Yelena knows it's because she wasn't as drunk as you and could walk straight and could sing the real version of American Pie.

Whereas, on the train ride to your stop, you tried to convince Yelena that the Weird Al Yankovic Star Wars Parody was the real version.

But Yelena didn't know what Star Wars was and knew the original song by Don McLean by heart.

After Yelena set you down on the couch, she quickly looked around your place. It wasn't far from Natasha's due to the proximity to the bookstore.

Yelena thought your space was cute, but it wasn't decorated very well. In fact, Yelena found it interesting.

Odd. Would be another word for it.

She discovered most of your belongings were in boxes labeled to different names and places.

She walked to the fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle, knowing this would help sober you up more than the cool air had helped so far.

"Here." Yelena handed you the bottle as she crouched down in front of you. You took the water without a problem and opened it. Chugging it like it would be the last time.

"Thank you." You said into the air of feet between the two of you. "You're welcome," Yelena said back before she moved to sit next to you. You watched her the whole time.

In fact, the whole night, it became harder to keep your eyes off of her.

Maybe it was the drinks.

Maybe it wasn't.

"I had a great time." You said, making Yelena turn to you. She could smell the alcohol still dancing on your tongue, but you could smell hers. So it didn't really matter. "I did, too!" Yelena smiled. "Thank you." She said, making up shake your head the tiniest bit. "No, Yelena. Thank you."

It was hard to see because of how dim the lights behind you were, but you could've swore you saw Yelena's cheeks turn pink.

Yelena wanted to lean into you. She wanted to take this leap. But she couldn't. She didn't want to jeopardize anything. So, instead, she turned away from you.

You who wouldn't have said no. You who would've kissed her back and savored her taste. You who, if Yelena was going to be your last, you wanted to make it count.

But she turned away.

She looked at the book on your coffee table and recognized it immediately.

The book from your job. The book Agatha gave her.

"Oh wow! You really do love it!" Yelena leaned forward and picked it up. "Oh, I do more than love it." You said, acting coy. Confusing Yelena. "What do you mean?" With your foot, you pointed to a book near your bedroom door. Yelena got up and stood in front of it. "Nothings going to jump out and get me right?" She asked like a scared kid making you laugh. "It's safe. I promise."

Yelena took you by your word and opened the box. Inside were more copies of the book. Brand new.

You wrote it.

Yelena looked up at you with a fresh copy in hand. "You're Emily Hornberg?!" She said as she made her way in front of you.

You nodded. "I am."

Yelena froze as she held the hardcover in her hand. "Why aren't these everywhere?! It's great!" She asked questions and wanted to ask many others, but you held up your hand and leaned up from the back of your couch. "No one bought them." You took the book from her hand.

The touch of your fingers on her skin made her burn with pleasure.

"I would," Yelena said.

You looked up at her and her puppy dog eyes. "Take them."

"The whole box?"

You nodded.

Yelena waited for the joke to end, but you just looked at her until the room's silence continued for too long. And when your eyes darted away, that's when Yelena took a look around the room one more time.

Boxes of your things. Envelopes on top. No personal pictures throw about. Your work- a story the two of you loved waiting to be given away.

It dawned on her.

Yelena's eyes found the top of your head. "No." She said as tears slowly filled her eyes. "Please..." She said when you didn't look up, instead re-reading the back of the book repeatedly.

Yelena wanted you to look at her to see if this was really your plan. She reached forward and grabbed the book from your hand with ease and threw it into your bedroom door. You jumped and looked up.

Tears were in your eyes, too.

"Y/N..." Yelena said as she crouched in front of you, her voice the opposite of her previous action. Soft. "Yelena..." Your voice cracked as tears slipped down your cheek.

This time, Yelena went with her gut as she wrapped her arms around you, holding you close and letting you sob into her shoulder.

Apologies and a bunch of mind-twisting truths spilled from you as Yelena did nothing but hold you close and whisper into your ear about how much you changed her life tonight.

You watched as Diane, a mom of two daughters, talked about a night recently when her oldest asked them where their daddy had gone.

You held back the tears in your throat as you couldn't help but picture if that had been you people asked questions about. If you weren't sitting in a metal chair, that did shit for your back.

When Diane was finished, the time had hit six o'clock, meaning that group was over.

As people filed out, you hung back to stack the chairs with the leader, Lizzie—a thrifty-something brunette who had green eyes that reminded you of another.

"Any plans this weekend?" She asked to break up, the only sound being the clanking of the chairs. You shrugged. "Maybe go to the beach." Lizzie nodded. "And the writing?" She asked. "Has that been going well?"

You stopped as you put up the last chair.

"If you want to save it for group, we can." She said as she placed a hand on your arm. You shook your head. "It's fine." Lizzie nodded with an understanding smile. "I just have this one idea about a character. But... I don't know." Lizzie patted your arm before she pulled her hand away. "Well, I think it sounds great. Something that you should keep exploring."

You nodded, knowing she was right. Like always. It was kind of annoying but in a fun way.

"See you Monday?" She asked as you walked to the exit. "Same time." You replied, making Lizzie send you a thumbs up.

You took one last look at her green eyes before leaving through the double door. Immediately, you were attacked by someone you had not been expecting. "Jesus, Agatha! What the fuck!" You shouted at your friend and boss. "Gotcha!" She winked and pulled you close.

"What are you doing here?" You asked as she let you go. "Saving you from taking the subway, hon." She replied as she rounded her car. "You coming?" She asked, knowing that she wouldn't take no for an answer.

You followed.

"You know..." You said as Agatha pulled out of her illegal parking spot. "You don't have to keep picking me up every Friday. I'll be fine."

"I know." She replied. "I want to." You nodded and let your defense down. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She said as she hit the CD button. "Besides, I want to show you a display I was working on today."

You looked over at Agatha. "Okay." You said before tilting your head. "It's not another Collen Hoover display because I swear to Go-" Agatha stopped you. "That was a prank one time!!" You rolled your eyes. "One too many." You mumble, making Agatha slap your arm.

The drive wasn't long, but it was long enough where your mind kept floating back to Yelena, how she held you night and stayed by your side for the weeks that followed. How you struggled and fought with your own mind and body. The good days and bad. The days that became worse.

She was there.

But it wasn't becoming easy for the blonde. How were you to know that Yelena had been pushing work off for a month after your first night together? How she wanted to protect you. How she stayed up shopping your book around to different publishers for hours after you fell asleep next to her.

Or even how she didn't hear your confessions of more fall from your lips because she had fallen asleep as you laid on her chest.

"How's Yelena?" As if Agatha could sense where your thoughts had gone, she asked a question to make you frown. "She was gone this morning." You replied, making Agatha immediately take her eyes off the road to look at you. "She what!"

"10 and 2!" You shouted. Once the car was not going to crash, you looked over at the older woman. "Yeah, she was gone this morning, and all of my calls and texts haven't been answered." You looked down at your phone and back to Agatha. "Did I do something wrong?" You asked.

"No." Agatha instantly replied. "You did nothing wrong. Besides. Let's not jump to any conclusions she maybe got busy with her sister or something."

The thought of texting Natasha had crossed your mind, but a part of you was scared, and you didn't want to have someone else worry about your dangerous thoughts.

"Alright. Let's pop in quickly, and then I'll walk you home." Agatha said as she parked the car and threw off her seatbelt. Excited to show you the new display. You follow suit at about less than half the excitement.

Agatha waited at the front door and let you go in first, but you stopped in the open doorway when you lifted your eyes. "Go!" Agatha pushed you in as you froze, staring at Yelena.

Agatha quickly followed in and locked the door behind herself.

Yelena stared back at you with a smile. "Come here." Yelena quietly said with an outstretched hand.

"Where were you?" You asked with your voice not as gentle. "In Jersey," Yelena replied, making you tilt your head as you took steps closer as you knew she wasn't lying.

You went to ask a million more questions, but Yelena surprised you by taking steps forward to grab your hand in hers. "I'm sorry I ignored you today. But I promise Y/N Y/L/N I'll never do that again." You looked into her green eyes and could feel the love. "I just want to surprise you."

"Surprise me?"

Yelena hated surprises, so this intrigued you more.

She nodded with a big grin before biting her bottom lip and turning around. Yelena pulled you to the spinning book display.

"That's my book..." You said. Yelena watched your eyes dance across the multiple copies. "It says my name. My real name..." You watched Yelena's hands pick up a copy and hand it to you.

With the spine facing you.

At the bottom of the spine, it had a publishing house logo.

Your mouth moved up and down as your emotions threatened to spill out. Yelena could see it, too. "Here." Her voice was light and soft as she took your hand and moved it to the back of the book.

Inside was a picture that Yelena had taken of your first night together. It's you standing at the bottom of the red stairs in Times Square, looking up. Yelena couldn't help it as you looked beautiful. But Yelena's favorite part of the picture is that you could see your two moles.

And on the inside of this copy, Yelena drew the tiniest line underneath them.

A smile.

"Yelena..." You swallowed a sob as you looked up to her. "Detka." She responded as you still had no idea what it meant. She saw the tears in your eyes and brought her hand to your cheek. "You did this for me?" You asked, forcing a laugh from Yelena.

"It's only because I love you."

That broke you.

You collapsed into her arms as Yelena kissed the sides of your face and head. "I lobe yov too!" Yelena's shoulder muffled your declaration.

But she heard you and smiled.

"I'm proud of you," Yelena whispered into your ear. "Thank you." You whispered back, only to earn a shake of the head. "You don't need to thank me for something that's honest and easy. You did all the hard work." You looked up at her. "I'll be here," Yelena said.

"I'm happy you came in here that night."

"Me too."

As your lips pressed against hers in a passionate kiss, Agatha adverted her eyes and found herself being unwanted at this moment.

Meanwhile, as you and Yelena separated from one another, you both couldn't help but think how different your lives would be if Yelena hadn't stepped into this shop...

But two years later, as you found yourselves at a party celebrating your second book about a hot blonde female spy, Yelena held a box in her pocket.

Happy that she'd never have to know any other life besides this one.

dividers by @/benkeibear

131 notes · View notes