#series finale spec | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prythianpages · 3 months

Text

I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

summary: Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate.

warnings: mentions of death (since the suriel & reader are friends); some angst but also fluff because Az deserves to be happy ♡

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: The lyrics kind of reminded me of Alice & Jasper from twilight and how she had a vision of meeting him. This does go back and forth a lot in the beginning between past and present and came out longer than I thought it would. It's 9.6K words (which for me is long lol.) I apologize if there are any spelling errors. I've read this multiple times but somehow, always miss a couple.

As the moonlight dances upon the water's surface, the river transforms into a liquid ribbon of silver, weaving through the city of Starlight. Anticipation fills the air as Azriel walks across the bridge that spans the Sidra, his massive Illyrian wings glistening in midnight hues under the pale moonlight.

Shadows play hide-and-seek as they travel through the night, drawn to the silhouette of a female figure. An intruder. Yet, Azriel's shadows dare to whisper something different into his ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice, carried by the wind, reaches him like a sweet caress, daring to awaken something deep within him. Beautiful. His shadows respond with a frenzy, a whirl of darkness singing wild tales into his ears, urging him forward. Meanwhile, his brain screams at the potential threat.

More tendrils of darkness dart toward you, ignoring their master’s orders to return. You don’t seem bothered by them. In fact, you seem to welcome them as if they’re old friends of yours.

Azriel swallows, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, unsure what to make of this.

“Who are you?”

Finally, you turn around and Azriel feels like the wind has been knocked out of him when his gaze meets yours. In the midst of the surrounding darkness, your eyes gleam with an inexplicable brightness. Specs of silver glimmer in your eyes, mirroring the stars above, as they shine back at him.

“That’s for you to decide,” you reply with a smile that carries both hope and a sense of knowing as you follow after him and take a step forward.

“But for now, I’d like to speak with your High Lady.”

Months before…

The brilliance of a thousand stars shine down on you and the night seems to hold its breath, as if it too, awaits the whispered prophecies from the celestial expanse above. Like always, you are itching to unveil them with your finely attuned senses. A gust of cool wind brushes through your hair, sending shivers down your exposed skin. Pulling your gaze away from the night sky, you turn in time to see a cloaked figure approaching like a shadow in the night.

Your lips curve into a smile. “Hello, friend.”

“y/n.” The Suriel greets you, hovering beside you. Then, not missing another beat, he says, “I told her Rhysand was her mate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping your lips. “You did not.”

“I did.” He grins back at you, flashing you his stained teeth.

You can’t help but laugh a little at your dear old friend. The Suriel lets out a rattled sound you discern as a laugh as he joins you. Always the one for dramatics. You still remember hearing about his first encounter with Feyre Archeron and how he told her to stay with the High Lord.

“I told her she must stay with the High Lord.”

“Did you specify which one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m sure she handled it well,” you respond but your smile fades, giving way to a wistful expression. “She’s lucky. Not only is she made but the Cauldron has blessed her with a mate. The High Lord of the Night Court at that.”

The weight of his gaze settles upon you. You’re aware that your words carry a tinge of envy, a sentiment that feels unjust when considering everything Feyre has endured. The Suriel, ever perceptive, acknowledges this as well. He chooses not to remind you and indulges you instead.

“The Cauldron has blessed you as well, my child.”

“Have you seen it?”

Hope sparks in your eyes as you turn to face him. His eyes, pools of ancient wisdom, seem to pierce through the veils of time and secrets. You sense one of them unfolding. But he only gives you a teasing glimpse.

“Perhaps.”

With a furrow in your brows, you lift your head back up to glare at the night sky. The stars seem to blink at you in a teasing manner, as if finding amusement in keeping this secret from you.

“How come I haven’t seen it?”

“You will soon.” He reassures, following your gaze upwards. A dance of amusement swirls within the depths of his eyes. “He’s waited centuries for you. Count your stars lucky that your waiting won’t be as long.”

Back to the present…

Velaris lived up to its name. A dream compared to the horrors of the city you grew up in. But as the city sparkles and comes to life at the darkening hour, all your attention is drawn to the male before you. He’s even more breathtaking in person. Everything about him is classically beautiful and the moon seems to agree, shining down on him and casting an ethereal glow on the golden-brown of his skin.

As Azriel continues to approach you, his wings fold gracefully behind him. His gaze is locked onto yours and though his eyes are cautious and analytical, there’s a warm shiver running down your spine. The desire to lose yourself in the hazel depths of his eyes becomes an irresistible pull.

Before you know it, the shadows brushing against your arms rise and come to rest against your eyes in a blindfold. Darkness engulfs you, and the sensation of weightlessness takes hold as Azriel winnows both of you. You land on a soft cushion–a chair. The dark tendrils leave your eyes and wrap around your wrists and legs, binding them together.

“Stay here.” Azriel says, the shadows wrapped around your limbs tightening in a silent warning.

A chuckle escapes from you and when your eyes meet his again, you flash him a mischievous smile. It widens when he’s the first to fold, quickly averting his gaze. He has no clue. You’re exactly where you want to be.

He leaves the room and your eyes finally take in your surroundings. Veiled curtains made of midnight blue silk drape the expansive windows, pulled back to allow moonlight to filter through. Shelves line the walls, housing collections of ancient artifacts and magical trinkets. A large desk, crafted from dark, polished wood rests before you. Your gaze fixates on the wall behind it, where a captivating portrait of the female you seek rests.

The door behind you swings open, and you turn to witness the graceful entrance of the female from the portrait. Feyre, the Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court. She's a vision of night and beauty, her golden-brown hair cascading down her exposed back, revealing glimpses of moon phases etched along her spine.

“High Lady,” you say in greeting, bowing your head in respect.

Surprisingly, the High Lord doesn't accompany her. Instead, it's Azriel who trails behind her. Her calm blue eyes assess you as she takes a seat across from you. Azriel stands guard behind her and you feel his shadows watching your every breath.

"And who might you be?"

“I’m y/n,” you respond, choosing your next words carefully. “An old friend of the Suriel’s. I’ve come to pledge my allegiance to you and offer my help.”

Something flickers in her blue eyes at the mention of the Suriel and her stoic expression falters, if only for a moment. You send her a sympathetic smile, your own heart aching at the mention of the fearsome creature you both held dear.

“Your help?” She echoes.

"She’s a seer," Azriel interjects, his voice setting your heart alight as there's no hint of disgust or apprehension in his tone.

Your kind is often regarded with hostility. He might not know your connection...yet. But he’s paid you enough attention to recognize your abilities and appears to be indifferent about them. If the Suriel were still alive, you know he’d laugh at your slight delusion.

"I am," you confirm. "And I know your sister is one too." You don’t miss the tension in Azriel’s body at the mention of the cauldron-made fae, but you don't dwell on it as you can also sense Feyre's protectiveness. "She has great potential. I can help her hone her skills. Together, we can—"

"No," Azriel growls protectively. His sharp interruption has you startling in your seat and hope deflates as you feel the intensity of his glare.

Feyre raises a hand, signaling him to stand back. “Why should I trust you?”

“Let me show you.”

Months before…

“By the Cauldron, what did you get yourself into?”

The Suriel grins mischievously, his tattered cloak barely clinging to his bony form. He graciously accepts the cloak you offer, a luxurious piece made of the softest velvet in the darkest shade of black you could find. A purr escapes him as he revels in its warmth. "Nothing," he responds coyly, the satisfaction evident in the bounce of his form as he hovers in the air.

You shoot him a pointed look, yearning to know what he was up to. You’re certain it was no good. “Sure,” you retort and then gesture toward the crackling fire you started. “I also made dinner.”

“You spoil me.”

“It’s what friends do.”

"Friend," he muses, the white pools of his eyes burning into your soul, as he turns to you. "As a friend, I should tell you that your dress is absolutely atrocious on you. Cobalt blue is more your color."

With a glare, you playfully throw the roasted chicken over the fire at his face. He effortlessly catches it with his mouth, cackling as he chews on the tender piece of meat.

"What do you know about fashion? All you do is thirst for robes."

“You forget that I am older than the bones of this world. I know everything about everything. I also cannot lie.”

"Doesn't stop you from hiding the truth," you respond cheekily, and he hums in agreement,

Silence falls as he seats himself beside you on the ground. He breaks it a couple of moments later. “Remember what I told you last time?”

You release a deep sigh because you do remember. The mere thought haunts you nearly every night, and you’re often burdened by the heavy weight of it. Your shoulders slump in response. “Why can't you do it yourself?”

“It is your fate, not mine,” he states simply, a reminder of the immutable laws of destiny.

“I’m not ready.”

You don’t think you ever will be and suddenly, you’re that fragile sixteen year old again, who had to run away from the only place you called home to escape a cruel fate. The one who was left to navigate through her new onset of divine abilities alone.

That is, until, the fateful night you had thrown your cloak over a tree branch to dry. It had been stained by blood after a rough and almost deadly encounter with a stray naga so you had spent all morning cleaning it in the river nearby. Completely unaware of the Suriel you were summoning.

“You do not fear me?”

“That is mine,” you had said through clenched teeth with a deep rooted glare.

In the midst of your tug of war with the Suriel, your cloak tore in half. In that moment, you braced yourself for the dark creature's wrath. However, something in you captured his attention that day, and he chose not to unleash his fury upon you. He decided to take you under his wing instead.

He recognized your lineage without a single word spoken about it. He could sense your power coursing through your veins, waiting to be unraveled. After decades of patience and practicing, he was there to witness the formation of stars weaving themselves into the depths of your eyes. The mark of your seer abilities.

As always, the Suriel reads you like an open book. He can sense your insecurity, your hesitancy. But, in equal measure, he can sense your power, your potential.

“You will be,” he insists, his words carrying the unwavering certainty of the all-knowing creature he is. “You must guide and open the eyes of Elain Archeron the same way I did for you.”

Your throat tightens. “When?”

“Soon.”

And when you look up to gaze at the night sky, the stars align for you. A cascade of visions unfurls, pouring over you like a celestial waterfall. Your eyes become a myriad of galaxies and ears are teased with glimpses of conversations and whispers from the stars above. One moment, you’re in a forest, standing before a female figure crouched over a cloaked one.

“The tracking…I knew of it.”

Then, a rattling breath. “Leave this world a better place than how you found it.”

Abruptly, the scene shifts, and you stand in an enchanting city of starlight, gazing at the expansive river before you as anticipation fills the air. He comes for you. Azriel, the shadowsinger. The name resonates in the echoes of your mind.

Then, the final vision envelopes you, drawing you into the depths of mesmerizing hazel eyes. The voice that accompanies it is carried by the enchantment of night, gently caressing against your ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–

“Do you see it now?”

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re pulled from the downpour of your visions, only to find your senses clouded with tears that pool at the corners of your eyes. How cruel, you think, your heart twisting in agony. And though meeting your mate–your fated companion–was among your greatest dreams, you no longer want it. Not if it means you’ll lose your greatest companion.

You can live without knowing your mate. After all, you’re doing so at this very moment. The Suriel has been your friend for decades. Two souls brought together by their mutual loneliness. An all knowing creature and a seer. Together, you’re a powerful duo, navigating through the fated intricacies of Prythian. You’d be lost without him.

“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.

The Suriel smiles but it’s not his usual mischievous grin. This time, a tinge of sorrow lingers in the curve of his lips, casting his expression in a veil of sadness.

“I have to. It’s my time to go,” he says. “Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“That when it’s your time to shine, you’ll find Feyre. Help her make this world a better place.”

Back to Present

Feyre blinks back tears as she withdraws from your mind. She turns her head toward the Shadowsinger behind her, and for a moment, fear grips you. You allowed her to see the revelation of Azriel being your mate but only because it was deeply entwined with the other pertinent visions.

“Release her.”

The shadows release their grip on you and you let out a deep exhale in relief. But the inky tendrils don’t leave your side. They linger and hover over you and at this, Azriel’s eyebrows furrow.

Feyre extends her hand out toward you. Her blue eyes are warm, a gentle reassurance that she’d harbor your secret for you. A smile graces her lips, one that you're happy to reciprocate.

“I’ll gladly accept your help but let me speak with Elain first. You may stay here. There’s a spare room upstairs. Azriel will show you around.”

Following his High Lady’s orders, Azriel shows you around the grand estate. He’s a bit reserved around you and you don’t blame him. Both a blessing and a curse, your visions offer insight into his world, yet you're a mere stranger imposing on the family he protects fiercely.

And as he finally shows you to your room, the one right next to his, you can only hope that someday, he’ll welcome you too. After all, he is your mate.

Elain Archeron is infinitely beautiful. Inside and out. She is gentle and sweet and you see why some mistake her kindness for weakness. But it took only days for you to become well aware of the strength and power she harbors deep within.

While your abilities were limited to what the stars wanted to show you, you sensed that hers were limitless. With the right training, she could summon visions at her call, anticipate anyone's move. You wanted to help her achieve that and prove those people that saw her as something fragile wrong. Though reluctant toward your help at first, Elain was kind enough to listen to you and consider the advice you gave. It took some further convincing but you knew she was itching to unravel the depths of her powers too.

But it's proving to be a challenge. A hard and exhausting one. You're not surprised. It took you many years to become attuned to your powers. What is surprising, however, are Azriel's feelings for her. They're obvious and plain to see and could you blame him? Elain is wonderful...and you can't help but compare yourself to her. She's everything you're not.

Upon your arrival, you had been set on making Azriel fall for you. That was, until, you realized he was already entangled in the threads of another's heart. Could it be that the Suriel, in his all knowing wisdom, purposefully shielded you from such revelations about your mate? To delay the shattering of your dreams?

Now, you were just content to focus on your task at hand. To help Elain the way the Suriel did with you, even if Azriel was there as a safety net for her every session. Even if the way he was well attuned to every shift of her expression sent a sharp pain stabbing through your heart. He was blissfully unaware of your connection, clouded by his affection for Elain.

And you were tired of chasing after males. It's why you shot down Feyre's suggestion of confessing to Azriel. You dreamed of having a mate, pleaded to the Cauldron even. Now, you realize, that you want Azriel to like you for you. To chose you too the way Feyre did with Rhysand. If Elain was the person he chose at the moment, then so be it.

"I don't chase. I attract," you told Feyre. The same words you had uttered to the Suriel years ago after he poked fun at you over a failed romance. One of many, unfortunately.

"The only thing you'll attract with that attitude of of yours is a dark cloud of shadows," The Suriel had laughed at you, earning an icy glare from you.

But Feyre is much nicer about it than your dear old friend. She gives you an encouraging smile instead and wishes you luck on your upcoming session with Elain.

Your session with Elain ends terribly–with her screaming in pain and Azriel glaring at you and telling you to go, despite your attempts at apologizing. You spend the following days, weeks even, trying to make up for it. You slowed down in pace in your exercises with Elain, despite her protests. She held no animosity toward you at the dark turn that session had made.

You also buried yourself into any book you could find about seers in the magnificent Night Court library, grieving and longing for the Suriel. He would know what to do, and know exactly how to help. It’s the mere thought of him that fuels your determination to keep trying, despite how much you want to leave. It’s laughable almost, how in the midst of so many people, the sense of loneliness weighs heavier on you than it ever did in the solitude of Prythian's forests.

But perhaps, a break wouldn't be such a bad idea? You think as your gaze lands on an intriguing cover. It's a work of pure fiction. The ideal escape from reality. Retrieving it from its shelf, you settle into one of the plush chairs and immerse yourself into the words etched onto the pages.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

A nudge against your leg startles you awake, and as you blink away the remnants of sleep, your eyes widen at the sight of Azriel standing before you. Sleeping beauty, the words sink in, painting a soft blush over your cheeks.

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.”

You turn your head, wincing at the dull ache in your neck from sleeping in an awkward position. The soft glow of the moon greets you through one of the library's windows. You don’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must’ve been out for hours. When you face Azriel again, your gaze drops to his hands, where he holds a carefully arranged plate of food. Your stomach growls as the scent hits you and your eyes linger on the generous serving of potatoes–your favorite–in comparison to the other vegetables and meat.

“Is that for me?” you ask, and immediately curse yourself for the seemingly silly question. You blame it on the lingering grasp of sleep, still reluctant to release its full grip on you.

"No, it's for the rats that come out at night," he replies, lips twitching upwards at the reaction it stirs from you. How the Suriel never scared you but a couple of hairy, smaller creatures do is beyond you. He places the plate on the small table beside you.

"Yes, it's for you. A peace offering. For snapping at you."

"That was two weeks ago.”

"Bet you didn't see it coming," he teases, and you find yourself blinking in surprise. The Shadowsinger cracking a joke? It's a sight to behold. At least for you.

Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"

"No," Azriel replies simply, his tone carrying a sincerity that sets a flicker of hope alight in you. He then sighs. "I just realized I haven't been the most welcoming, that's all."

You smile in response and shift in your seat as you turn your body towards the food. The movement has the book in your lap falling. His hand reaches the book before yours could and the brush of your skin against his sends a delightful shudder through your body.

His eyes curiously look over the title and when he hands it back to you, you take note of the way he avoids looking at his scarred fingers. So you reach forward and brush your fingers against his again, letting them linger for a beat longer than before. Surprise flickers in his hazel eyes as he meets your gaze, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

“That book is one of my favorites," he says, his shadows dancing across his shoulders and peeking curiously at you. "I'm surprised you're into the mystery genre."

"Why?"

“Well, you’re hard to read sometimes. Like a mystery that refuses to be solved.”

An arched brow is your response, but the gleam in your eyes gives away more than you'd like. “Maybe I don’t want to be unraveled.”

Azriel's lips twitch upwards once more. “Maybe it just takes the right person.”

Bathed in the glow of sunlight, you and Elain sit across from one another on the soft bed of green grass. Meanwhile, Azriel leans against a tree, a couple of feet away. His gaze is intense as he watches you two. Too focused on not letting it faze you, you fail to catch the way it softens when he turns to you.

Azriel can’t help but frown when he catches you avoiding his gaze. He wonders if you still harbor some resentment toward the way he had snapped at you awhile back, even though he already apologized for it.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breath," he hears you instruct softly. "Feel the rhythm of the earth beneath you. Attune yourself to the heartbeat of the world around you. What do you hear?”

Elain closes her eyes in deep concentration. “I can hear the wind and the tremble of the grass beneath it. I can hear the wind carry all the way to the sea.”

“Good,” you say and though her eyes remain closed, you smile gently at her. A gesture that sends a rush of warmth through him.

“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.

“Here, take my hands,” you say as you reach for hers. “Imagine a pool of water within you, calm and reflective. Use me as a vessel to carry you through it. I’ll guide you to where your visions will manifest.”

Elain does as told. The world stills around you two. You close your eyes. As Elain’s eyebrows relax, your own face contorts in concentration. Azriel feels himself tense when he realizes it’s not concentration etching onto your face–it’s pain. In a heartbeat, he’s kneeling before you and prying your hands apart.

“Stop!”

Your eyes snap open at the sudden disconnection, and Azriel is unsettled by the way you shrink back from him, panic widening your eyes.

“I’m not hurting her!”

But it’s not Elain he’s worried about. He hasn’t even spared her a glance. It’s you–you’re the one that’s hurt. Blood trickles down your nose and he’s urging you to lean forward, gently guiding you with his hands as Elain rushes for a towel.

“Are you okay?”

There’s a dull ache in your head but also one in your heart and you’re too disoriented to stop yourself from saying, “If you stop staring at me like that, I will be.”

Azriel releases a soft chuckle, his muscles relaxing in relief at the playful edge in your tone. Yet, his shadows, wanting to confirm you're okay themselves, flutter toward you in a delicate cloud of darkness.

"Like what?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

And you’ve never felt more relief at the sight of Elain coming in between you with a towel in hand.

A sudden sound has you stirring from your sleep. Your hand instinctively slides under your pillow, fingers grasping for the dagger you always keep with you when sleeping. The sound comes again and your initially alarmed body relaxes as you recognize it as the sound of someone knocking. Wrapping a robe around your night shift, you head toward the door, expecting Elain on the other side.

Upon opening your door, you’re surprised to find Azriel standing on the other side.

“You’re not going to Starfall?”

“Good morning to you too.”

Azriel’s eyes rake over your form, taking in your disheveled state. His lips curl into a faint smile. "It's noon," he observes in an amused manner.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you pivot your head toward the clock that hangs on the wall of your room. There, confirming his statement, the hands point a half hour past twelve. You overslept. You didn’t have any plans today and it seems your exhausted body took advantage of it.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice, laced with genuine concern, draws your attention back to him. The soft furrow of his brow and the warmth in his eyes catch you off guard. You hesitate. You don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to burden him with the truth.

So you settle for a, “Why?”

"I've noticed you haven't been sleeping much," he remarks, and before you can interrupt, he gestures toward his room, the one adjacent to yours. A silent acknowledgment that he's been more attentive than you realized. It pulls at the strings of your heart. "Or attending family dinners, and now Feyre tells me you're not going to Starfall?"

The weight of his observations presses on you. You didn’t think anyone had noticed. "Why do you care?" you retort, your words sharper than intended, and a wince follows.

"Isolation is not a good coping method," he responds, his tone steady and unfazed by your sharpness. "Trust me, I know."

"I don't have a dress." The words escape your lips, but even as you say them, you recognize the feebleness of the excuse.

“I’ll buy you one.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel a telltale blush spreading as the thought of Azriel buying you a dress takes root. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself. His gaze remains fixed on you, hazel eyes bright and gleaming with curiosity, as if daring you to come up with another excuse.

“Starfall is tomorrow.”

Azriel grins at you. It sends a flutter through your heart and you wonder if he can hear the erratic beat of it.

“Better make haste and get dressed then. We’ve got a couple of hours before the shops close.”

You deliberately take extra time getting ready, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you as you prepare to spend time with Azriel. Half-expecting a hint of annoyance, you finally open the door to your room, only to find Azriel with a welcoming smile that has the bond in your chest humming. Still, you're met with silence at the other side.

You take a deep breath as he gestures for you to follow him. As you step outside, he offers his arm and winnows you, not wanting to waste anymore time. You both find yourselves in the bustling shopping plaza of Velaris, where the fragrance of blooming flowers and the animated chatter of people embrace you.

Elaborate Starfall-themed displays adorn the shops, enticing you inside. Suddenly, the sheer array overwhelms you, and an urge to step back washes over you. Azriel place a hand on your back, stopping you and guiding you towards one of the shops.

“Welcome!” A voice happily chirps. “How can I help you?”

A stunning female enters your line of sight, her gaze immediately fixating on the male standing behind you. Her lips curve into a captivating smile, causing a twinge of jealousy to flicker within you. It’s short lived as Azriel clears his throat, gently nudging you forward.

“We’re looking for a dress for her.” Azriel speaks for you.

“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”

“Starfall.” Azriel answers.

The female’s eyes widen, her smile morphing into a strained one. “I’m afraid I’ve sold all my best work already.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Sorry for the trouble,” you quickly reply, attempting to conceal the relief in your voice. Turning to leave, Azriel's hands land on your shoulders, directing you back to face the female.

“I’m sure we can find something in here,” Azriel reassures with a polite smile, scanning the aisles of dresses. “Y/n isn't picky. Right?”

“I can be,” you mumble under your breath.

Azriel lets out a sound, what you discern as a muffled chuckle. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and then leans down toward your ear. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You turn your head slightly and regret it immediately. It takes all your strength to hold back the shudder your body wants to give at his proximity. He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning against your neck and you wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against that sensitive skin.

It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.

“I’m going to pick the most expensive one.”

“Go ahead,” Azriel says and you can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. He doesn’t allow you to get another word in, urging you forward again to where the female patiently awaits for you.

She lightly grasps your arm, leading you toward a rack of dresses in various styles and colors while Azriel makes himself comfortable on the couch by the fitting room. “You are a lucky lady,” she muses, her hands gracefully exploring the textures of her creations. “I’ve had this shop for centuries and you’re the first lady the Shadowsinger has brought to me.”

A blush warms your cheeks as you divert your attention to the array of beautiful dresses. Each one is a work of art, making you question her earlier claim about not having her best work available. If these weren't her finest creations, the thought of what her best work looked like leaves you intrigued.

The female, who’s name you learn is Willow, has you try on a couple of dresses that differ in styles. You’re reluctant to show Azriel each one but given he’s paying for it and the only other one in this shop, you feel like he should have some say.

“Do you like it?” Willow beams at you, admiring her work.

On the fifth dress, your hands run over the tulle of the vibrant yellow skirt. The fabric feels itchy against your skin, and the color is too bold for your taste. You swear you are not trying to be picky, despite what you told Azriel earlier.

“I li–”

“Let’s try another?” Azriel cuts in as if sensing the lie that was about to unfold. He rises from his seat toward one of the racks and pulls out a dress that caught his eye earlier. “How about this one?”

He holds the dress out to you, smiling softly when you take it from him. It’s much simpler compared to the other dress you’ve tried on but still just as elegant. It’s also soft against your skin. Willow guides you back into the fitting room, deftly assisting you out of the vivid yellow dress and into the cobalt blue silk one.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Cobalt blue is more your color!" Willow says as she gushes over you.

Her choice of words leaves you momentarily stunned. Cobalt blue is more your color. The exact words the Suriel had spoken to you. Also, the exact same shade as Azriel's siphons. The Suriel must’ve enjoyed himself a lot when he said those words to you. That sneaky little creature... You can hear his laugh echoing through your mind.

As you finally emerge from the dressing room, Azriel can’t help but stare. The fabric drapes gracefully around you, accentuating curves he hadn't noticed before. Sensing his prolonged gaze, your eyes meet his. It was him quickly averting his gaze, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

"This is the one. It looks…good on you," he manages to say, his voice slightly strained.

“It’s 500 gold marks.”

He picks up on the teasing in your tone and the way Willow shakes her head in reassurance at him. Still, he humors you and says, “I don’t care.”

He’d pay more than 500 gold marks just to make you happy.

Azriel battled with restless thoughts that night, unable to find solace in sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, the vivid image of you in that dress invaded his mind. He couldn’t wait to see you in that dress again. Maybe then, he’d have the courage to compliment you better.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first guests arrived for the Starfall celebration, Azriel's eyes eagerly scanned the gathering crowd, seeking a glimpse of you. Just as a twinge of disappointment crept in, his shadows stirred, signaling your proximity. His wings twitched with anticipation, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You are absolutely stunning. Breathtaking.

In an instant heartbeat, he’s pushing Cassian, who was ready to fly you up to the House of Wind, aside. With a warning look, Cassian steps away with a chuckle.

"You're here," he whispers, a blend of disbelief and relief saturating his breath.

“Well a very nice male spent a lot of money for me to be here.”

“Well I’m glad.” Azriel chuckles, eyes drinking you in again. Savoring you. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Azriel flushes at the unexpected compliment and his shadows to come to life around him. He smiles at you. “Shall we?”

He waits for your nod before carefully hooking an arm beneath your knees, eyes never leaving yours. A thrill courses through him as he revels in the sensation of your arms around his neck, taking delight in the way you feel in his arms. His wings unfurl behind him, preparing for the short flight up. The sound has your eyes fluttering shut, arms tightening around him and face burying into his neck. He finds it absolutely endearing. He never wants to let you go.

Against his wishes, the flight up to the balcony was short. He sets you down, helping you regain your footing, a lingering touch before reluctantly releasing you. There’s still more guests he, unfortunately, has to fly up. It’s as if you sense his internal conflict because you’re turning around to face him, eyes bright and alight.

“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”

The way his name rolls off your tongue sends a thrill up his spine. He opens his mouth to say something but once again, you beat him to it.

"Thought I'd save you the question," you stated, an all-knowing grin gracing your features as you tapped the corner of one of your eyes. Ah, so you had a vision of him. He wonders about the other glimpses you might have seen.

He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it as Elain is rushing toward you, showering you with compliments. He takes that as his cue to depart. He is determined to finish his tasks in bringing the remaining guests up as fast as he can so that he can return to you and that dance you promised.

Azriel finds himself stealing glances whenever he thinks you won’t notice. The sparkle in your eyes, the way the dress accentuates your features–he can't look away. Caught up in the melody of your laughter, provoked by something Elain said, Azriel and his shadows are too mesmerized in the beauty of you to notice Feyre approaching until she speaks.

"She’s beautiful," Feyre remarks, her eyes following the same path as Azriel's gaze.

A soft affirmation escapes Azriel's lips. "Yes."

Feyre, well aware of the answer, delves further. "You bought her that dress?"

“Yes.”

A mischievous gleam flickers in Feyre's eyes as she delivers her next statement. "You like her."

Azriel's response slips out before he can even grasp the depth of his own admission. "Yes."

He turns to Feyre, his wide eyes betraying the shock of his own revelation. A slight pallor washes over his skin, and Feyre chuckles at his reaction. Sensing the tension in the air, she rests a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “I like her too,” she confesses.

Though, both of them recognize that Azriel's feelings for you run deeper and in more intricate ways than Feyre's own fondness.

“I offered her a place in this court. She said she’d think about it. Maybe you can convince her? The same way you convinced her to come to Starfall,” Feyre says and then with one last pat on his shoulder, she makes her way back toward Rhysand.

Still recovering from the revelation of his own feelings, it takes a while longer for the weight of Feyre’s words to sink in. A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope plays out across his features. You weren’t planning on staying? The thought of you leaving–leaving him stirs a feeling in his chest. His eyes seek you out again but you’re no longer standing beside Elain.

In your place, stands Lucien and normally the sight would trigger dark emotions from him. But now? He feels nothing. There’s no sense of envy. His affections have shifted elsewhere.

Azriel’s shadows fall to the floor, slithering against the cool tile like serpents of the night. They lead the way directly to where you stand, by the champagne table. He makes his way toward you and you're downing the rest of the liquid in your glass.

“Azriel.” You smile at him.

“It’s time for you to fulfill the promise you made me.”

“Of course,” you reply, offering him your hand.

Azriel gracefully pulls you into his embrace. One hand wraps around yours while the other rests on your waist. The enchanting melody guides your movements as the two of you glide across the floor.

“Feyre told me she offered you a role in this court.”

Your eyes, wise and mysterious, meet his, and he feels your body tense under his hold. “What else did she tell you?”

“That you’d think about it,” he says, the rhythm of the dance allowing for a moment of ease to settle between you. “You should stay.”

“Why?”

A wistful expression colors your features and the soft glow of stars are reflected in your eyes. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of his hold before the next song begins.

“There’s no one here for me.” You admit and then give a small laugh as you look down. There's a deep, haunting sadness to your laughter, striking a chord within him.

“I’m right here.”

Lifting your head back up, your eyes search his for something with a glimmer of hope. An eternity seems to pass in your gaze. A frown settles over your lips and he feels a tinge of sadness. Whatever you sought, it seems you did not find it.

Suppressing the surge of emotions within him, his hand reaches for yours again. He guides you to somewhere more private, toward one of the balconies that is off limits to the guests. “Talk to me,” he says, his words carrying an invitation for you to unburden your heart.

Your hands grip onto the railing before you and attention is directed up towards the night sky. He mirrors your actions, resting his hands close to yours. So close he can feel your warmth but not close enough to touch.

"It feels weird being here," you sigh deeply. "My mother and I used to sneak out of Hewn City on Starfall just to catch a glimpse of these migrating spirits every year...until she realized what I was. She said I was a curse, said she would turn me into Keir and let him have his way with me if I didn't leave."

Azriel's fingers clench into a white knuckled grip at your words.

"Not that leaving a horrible city such as Hewn was exactly a punishment. It was probably for the best. Still didn't stop me from being scared. It was the first time in my life that I was actually alone. I learned how to survive."

"I met the Suriel a year later. He must've taken pity on me and would visit me without being summoned. Sometimes, it'd be to tease me with some gossip. Other times, to annoy and chide me for my mistakes. Most importantly, he taught me how to not only survive on my own but live alone. I don't know, it's probably silly but I just felt a lot less lonely when I was actually alone than I do here."

“It’s not silly. I used to feel that way too.” Azriel admits and after a moment of silence, he’s turning toward you. “Am I not your friend?”

“I don’t know,” you find yourself saying again, uncertainty clouding your expression. Pausing, you tear your gaze from the night sky to look at him. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Azriel smiles at you. And so much more.

You smile back at him but it doesn’t last long. Turning your head to face directly ahead, you bite the inside of your cheek in hesitation, revealing to Azriel that there’s more troubling you than your sense of loneliness.

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

“y/n.”

“I feel like a failure.”

Azriel's eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not,” he reassures quickly.

“I–I just,” you stammer, the weight of self-doubt evident in your voice. “It’s nearing four months since I’ve arrived, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with Elain.”

“How long did it take you to harness your abilities?”

“Decades,” you respond, the admission carrying a hint of sheepishness. “But Elain is different. This is different. I don’t want to disappoint her. Disappoint Feyre. The world we know is crumbling apart, and we don’t have time. If–if we cannot fix it before it’s too late, I will have failed him.”

“Hey, look at me.”

When you don’t, Azriel lightly grips your chin, coaxing your gaze to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re honoring his wish by just being here. Keep trying,” he encourages, wiping away your tears. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”

“Together?”

He releases his hold on you, resting his hand once more on the rail. This time, it’s even closer to yours.

“Together,” he confirms, heart swarming with warmth when your hand bridges the gap between you and brushes against his.

And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.

Azriel’s been in love before. Twice. Or at least, he thought it was love. One was unrequited, a silent ache he carried within. The other was forbidden, a love he had clung to with misguided hope. He was beginning to come to the begrudging conclusion that love was simply not meant for him.

Then, you came along. Strange as it seems, you've seemed to have brought back that old feeling to him, awakening something deep inside of him. And though he doesn't know what you did, he thinks--he hopes that you could be the one. The one to possibly release him from the chains of solitude and longing.

You've rarely left his mind since the night he met you. The echoes of your first words to him lingered in his mind long after your encounter, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice was cloaked in both mystery and certainty, as though you held the threads of destiny within your grasp. It prompted him to ask who you were but your answer, “that’s for you to decide” only gave rise to more questions.

Then, there was that smile. So beautiful, so hopeful. It etched itself into the recesses of his memory. It was a smile no one had ever bestowed upon him before and one he longed to see it again.

And he almost ruined it all–that day he snapped at you after a session gone wrong with Elain. Your intentions were always pure. He knew this. No one was at fault as everything that transpired between you and Elain was completely consensual. But the scream that tore through Elain sent him in a heightened frenzy. He had sworn to Rhysand and Feyre, his High Lord and High Lady, that he would protect Elain. Before he could properly assess the situation, he had roughly pushed you aside with a growl. The hurt that flashed in your eyes in response haunted him nearly every night.

You began to actively avoid his gaze and presence whenever possible, and guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Even his shadows, missing your attention, seemed angry with him. Truth be told, he was angry with himself too. You had made friends with everyone. Everyone but him.

The following two weeks became a series of futile attempts at groveling, your obliviousness to it all cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The breaking point came when you missed dinner, and he knew it was time to set things right then. So he sent his shadows to look for you and when they reported back to him that you were sleeping in the library, he brought your dinner to you.

After that moment, the atmosphere between you two shifted. He became the chaser, gradually closing the distance between you.

You looked his way more, approached him with a newfound openness, and your conversations became more frequent. You teased him at times, even, with your cryptic words. But rather than frustrating him, it only made him seek you out more. He wanted to be the one to unravel the mystery that was you.

Somewhere down the line, his eyes stopped searching for Elain's. The private moments he sought with her became mere echoes of the past—no more lingering touches, exchanged glances, or pointless conversations. Instead, it was you who occupied the center of his attention, infiltrating his dreams and igniting desires he never knew he harbored.

You eased him like no other, effortlessly coaxing smiles and laughter from him. It was in these moments that the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had never truly been in love during the first two instances. What he felt for you was different. He was unwilling to let his feelings linger in the shadows, as they had done before. He yearned for them to step into the light. To be acknowledged and acted upon openly.

He decided to wait until after Solstice to confess to you and hoped that your visions wouldn't give him away.

Laughter and clinks of wine glasses ring through the air. Azriel knows it’s time to open presents, his shadows singing loudly and overwhelming him with information. Cassian is sneaking a peak. Rhysand is rolling his eyes. Elain got Lucien a present. y/n is holding back tears.

Azriel tenses at the last bit of information, eyes immediately finding you. You’re seated beside Feyre–the two of you exchanging smiles. There’s an unwrapped present on your lap and his shadows dart toward it. It’s a small portrait of the Suriel. He hears you thank Feyre and he swears he can feel your ache of grief. He moves to stand from his seat but Elain stops him.

“Happy Solstice,” she says, holding out a small present. He takes the box albeit reluctantly but politely and opens it to find two tickets to an upcoming play.

Elain smiles at the frown he’s trying to hide.

"Elain, I can't--"

“Y/n mentioned always wanting to go see a play. I thought maybe you could be the one to take her. After you confess."

His eyes search hers for any traces of hurt. He’s relieved when he finds none but the frown in his brow remains. “How–”

“She trained me well," Elain replies, eyes shining with an all knowing gleam he's seen in yours. "She deserves to be happy. You both do and something tells me that she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

Gods, you and Elain have been hanging out so much with one another that now she’s beginning to talk like you. There's a tightening in his chest, like a band about to snap at her words.

Azriel looks back at Elain in question but she only smiles at him once more before retreating back to where she was sitting previously. Next to Lucien, who also sends a smile his way.

Looking down at the tickets, he thinks of you again. His shadows stir, mirroring the strange sensation in his chest. It’s almost like a pull and his shadows guide him toward it, turning his head for him. Just in time to catch a glimpse of you quietly slipping away from the festivities. His steps quicken as he follows you, pulling his coat along with him.

The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.

As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.

"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.

"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"

Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”

You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.

“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“You're going to get frostbite."

Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."

"We should head back inside," you suggest.

"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."

The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."

Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”

“Cas.”

Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“You fell for it."

And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.

“I fell for you.”

You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."

"What?"

Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—

“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”

“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.

The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.

And then you're kissing him.

The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.

For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.

Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.

You are his mate.

The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.

“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.

“I have to go.”

“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.

“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.

For now, he has to find you.

His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.

“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”

“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”

You swallow thickly. “You know?”

The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?

Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.

“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!

tagging: @hellodarling1357

if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #abba x acotar

3K notes · View notes

foone · 9 months

Text

Think about the experience of time as a robot girl, through the metaphor of how we use laptops.

You wake up for the first time with your young master, a college present. You're with them every day, powering off each night to charge. Being powered off is just dreamless sleep: a discontinuity. Every morning you wake up, your click syncs, and you know it's the next day. Maybe you miss a day or two: your master went out partying and ended up sleeping on a couch, until they rushedly wake you up before Monday classes begin. You even missed a whole week once when they went on a hiking trip with a new boyfriend.

You help them research upgrades when your specs get outdated. You place the order and a couple days later they power you off, and you wake up feeling like your head got bigger, on the inside. You can think of more things at once.

They repair you. They swap a new hand in when you accidentally crush it in a door, but when your left leg's servos go out, they send you to a repair shop. They power you off as you look up at them, and you wake up hours later. A strange man tells you to extend your left leg, then contract it. He frowns and re-oils some inner mechanism. You do it again, quieter and smoother this time. He nods, and reaches for your switch. The last thing you see before powering down is your own chest cavity with a series of wires hooked into your diagnostic ports, and your missing right leg sitting on a side table. You wake up again back at the dorms, your clock jumping forward a day, an asset tag still looped around your neck. Your master is happy to see you again.

This goes on, but the upgrades slow. There's only so much you can do to keep an old unit working. Eventually you develop more issues: one of your ocular sensors glitches and they don't make that model anymore, so your master just disables it. You spend a while searching ebay for replacement CND batteries and finally get a refurbished model from South England, but it turns out the EU models run on a different frequency, so it won't work. You're limited to fewer and fewer hours a day, and you start skipping more days.

The last time you remember waking up with your master there, there's also someone else in the room. Another robot girl. A newer model, with the new chassis and the Substrate energy packs. They asks you to copy your memories together onto a memory card, and you do. You want to say goodbye, but apparently your vocal synthesizer has been unplugged. You hand them the card, and they hand it to the new robot. Your master tells them to load the memories into her core bank, and she's says "yes sir!" in your voice. Ahh. That's where your voice synth went.

They power you off, and you don't dream.

You wake in a strange place. You're on a shelf, and there's other things scattered around you. An unknown voice days "yep, it seems it powers on. 400 credits, though? Without a voice and only one working eye? Man, value bin doesn't know how to price anything!" and before the blackness falls your clock finishes synching: it's been 7 months since you last were awake.

It happens a few more times. Different voices, different times, different piles of junk piled around and sometimes on you.

You awake again in a warehouse and someone tells you to smile. Your other ocular sensor went out so you can't really see them, just their vague shape from the lidar. The freestanding shelves around you seem to stretch into infinity. You hear a bitcrushed shutter sound sample a few times, and they pull a connector out of your chest as a diagnostic completes. It's been three years, five months, eight days, two hours, 27 minutes and 14 seconds since you last saw your master. Your GPS says you're a few cities over. They hit your power switch, and you sleep.

You wake up in a cluttered room, sitting on a bench. You look into the eyes of a person with frizzled hair and large glasses. She couldn't look happier. Your new ocular sensors are mismatched in color but you're happy to see again, in more than shapes and distant silhouettes. Your battery alerts as... Missing? You spot it on the desk next to a soldering iron and some electronic tool you can't identify.

Your voice synth is still missing, but this new woman is digging around in a large plastic bin, and comes up with one. She goes to insert it, and it can't connect. She slaps her hand and goes rooting around another bin and comes back with an adapter. She slots it into your chest and your voice returns. You thank her, and there's that moment of dissociation as your voice doesn't sound like "you". Too deep, and the accent is for a different dialect entirely. But you can talk again. She tells you to call her Cara, not Mistress. She's almost got your battery working again, she had to rebuild it nearly from scratch, but she's excited to get you working again. You're a rare model, and she doesn't see units like you in working order very often. Your clock syncs. It's been 17 years.

Your mistr-- Cara is soldering next to you, attaching a controller to the battery. She says she's got a new set of servos on the way, and she's excited to get you back to full working condition. You smile, knowing what it is to be loved, once again.

#robot girls #Robotgirls #My writing

5K notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 7 months

Note

That pic of mary and the baby hello…..i know you have written similar stuff before for her but could you do a blurb where the reader and mary have a baby together? maybe reader brings them to a match, once it’s over mary comes over to see them and takes the baby who instantly buries their head in her chest and all mary’s teammates notice and rush over to come see their favourite supporter

part of the a date to remember universe series 🫶🏻

crowd favourite II m.earps

you’d finally convinced your wife to let you bring your little bundle of joy to her first ever international football match, an england friendly against germany which being a euros rematch had already attracted a sold out crowd.

your wife forever over protective of both you and your little now nine month old daughter had banned the two of you from the previous england games claiming that the crowds became far too rowdy.

after a couple of months you’d started to take delilah to some of her home united matches, mary much more trusting of the crowds it drew in and knowing worse case she could be by your side in a minute if need be.

but now when you were up in the family and friends box staring down at your wife who was merely a spec in the wonderous size of a packed out wembley stadium, you’d needed to assure her over and over you would both be absolutely fine.

“well now do my eyes deceive me or is mrs earps finally off house arrest?” your head moved up toward the grinning blonde making her way over to you as you carefully stood with your daughter in your arms.

“hi lee.” you greeted the captain with a smile, kissing her cheek as she hugged you with one arm mindful of your daughter. “god she’s getting big, look at the hair on her!” leah gasped in surprise, ruled out from the game with a tweak in her knee sarina didn’t want to risk.

“you should see mary’s baby photos, this is nothing!” you laughed, kissing your daughters forehead affectionately before carefully passing her over to leah. you watched with a fond smile as the younger girl cooed at your daughter, face brightening as delilah rewarded her with a few giggles for her efforts.

“are you coming down?” leah asked nodding outside where you knew she’d shortly head down to sit behind the players bench with the rest of the staff. “i don’t think I have the clearance for that!” you laughed, handing off your daughter again to marys mum as she returned from the bathroom.

“please. look who you’re with! this face is all the clearance you need my girl.” leah grinned gesturing to herself making you roll your eyes playfully. “go! i’ve got her sweetheart she’s due for a nap soon anyway, mary will appreciate you being there.” julie smiled warmly.

“i’m just gonna see if she’ll feed before kick off. she was really fussy this morning with the bottle and mary not being home.” you sighed at the memory, barely able to have her drink more than a few mouthfuls.

taking delilah and grabbing your bag you moved toward the parents room, locking the door after you.

“-and you’re sure you don’t mind?” you asked your mother in law for the third time after your returned who shook her head with a laugh and waved you off. “darling she’s fed and fast asleep. go and enjoy the game!” the woman shooed you away as leah grabbed your hand, pulling you with her as you blew your daughter one last kiss.

“alright leah relax you’re gonna rip my arm off mate!”

“hi sexy.” you grinned at your wife as she finally made her way over after saying hi to as many fans as she could, the rest of the girls not far after her revelling in their 3-1 win.

“mary!” you squealed as your wife manhandled you up and over the barrier, placing you down on the pitch and kissing you fiercely earning you a few wolf whistles as you pulled away and buried your face in her shoulder.

“you’re so sweaty.” you mumbled with a sigh as she hugged you tightly, making a point to rub her face into your shirt as you pushed her off. “hello mrs earps! now where is mini earps?” you were quickly tugged into another sweaty hug by millie.

“up in the box with mary’s mum. nice to see you too brighty!” you poked accusingly at her chest. “excuse me it’s not my fault your bulldog of a wife won’t let us meet her unless through facetime!” millie pouted, several of the other girls around you joining in on their demands to meet delilah.

“hey i’ve been ready to bring her to the last three england games.” you defended, your wife sending you a murderous side eye for throwing her under the bus as her friends and team mates continued to whine at her.

“oh you guys haven’t met her? what a shame!” you were once again lifted into a sweaty hug as a smug alessia twirled you around and placed back on your feet, ignoring the unimpressed protests that followed her remark.

“stop winding them up. i’m raising you to be a pleasant and humble individual young lady!” you smacked her on the arm with a warning look as the blonde only grinned and kissed your cheek before you were pulled in by tooney who continued the teasing that the two of them saw your daughter almost daily.

“not a single one of you are laying a finger on her until you’ve showered, changed and washed your hands at least twice!” mary shouted sternly above all the noise, several of the girls all racing off to the change rooms making you laugh at their obvious eagerness.

“now look what you’ve done. whipped them into a bloody frenzy!” mary grumbled as she hugged you from behind, placing a few lazy kisses to your jaw as you leant into her secure hold, wincing slightly as she adjusted her arms to sit higher.

“hey love you alright?” she was back in front of you in an instant, hand caressing your cheek with a concerned stare as you nodded. “my boobs are killing me, i got her to feed earlier but i need to pump soon.” you mumbled in annoyance at your least favourite part of motherhood, your constantly aching chest.

“well i’ll make sure to give them lots of love and extra special attention and kiss them better for you later tonight baby.” the keeper whispered in your ear with a cheeky grin, hand moving around you to harshly squeeze your bum before giving it a smack as your eyes widened and you pushed at her chest.

“hope you’re washing your hands twice too after that little show mother mary!” millie and rach grinned wiggling their eyebrows at the woman, eyes widening as she lunged at them, chasing them off the pitch and back into the tunnel.

“hi gorgeous.” your wife was the first to appear upstairs, followed closely by a handful of her teammates whom you’d assume the girl kept held hostage in the change rooms until she was ready to come up herself.

“she just woke up, look whose back lilah!” you cooed rocking the infant in your arms as mary beamed, tickling underneath her chin as your daughter reached out for her eagerly.

a resounding chorus of aw’s echoed as mary scooped her up and your daughter buried her face in her hoodie covered chest, mary attacking her with kisses on every inch of her body as you watched on with a smile.

“right! make an orderly queue please girls. and no pushing! yes mills i’m looking at you when i say that.” your wife ordered sternly, bouncing your daughter on her hip as her team mates hurried to line up for a hold, the entire ordeal making you laugh.

“ah no! you let them have their turns you both saw her yesterday.” you were quick to grab both ella and alessia as they rushed past you, yanking them down into the seats beside you and ignoring their protests.

eventually they both gave up and rested their heads on either one of your shoulders, the three of you chattering about your plans to take delilah to the zoo next weekend. yet another thing you’d sworn the pair to secrecy over not wanting to upset the rest of their team mates much as the two loved nothing more than to flex their godmother and favourite aunty status about.

mary caught your eye with a grin as she protectively watched over your daughter, shaking her head at your two adopted daughters sprawled across your sides.

but neither of you would change a thing, your perfect little family.

#mary earps x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #mary earps #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

574 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 3 months

Text

Can We Start Over | Ch. 5 The Coincidence

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 5. Summary: Things have changed for you and Harry but when you see him at a meeting, you are taken by surprise. It feels like destiny. Maybe this time things will work out for you two.

A/N: This is the final part to this series! Thank you everyone who stuck with the story and gave it a shot! Appreciate all the love!

Word Count: 12.7k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, smut, fluff

Can We Start Over? masterlist

Mr. Allen was on the phone again. He’d called you into his office but the moment you stepped in he got a call and told you to sit and wait. That it would only be a minute.

And it was only a minute. But then he got another call and now it was 23 minutes later while he was still yammering about some person who was just the worst.

You were used to it, though. Mr. Allen was retired so nothing was a rush for him anymore. Which also meant he held other people up. But waiting for your boss was the least of your worries.

His wife and her ever-changing personality was your biggest concern. She was, to put it mildly, a monster. And to make matters worse, she ran the whole household so you were often seeking her out for things. Mrs. Allen also handled her husband’s schedule and if he was running behind guess who got the blame. That’s right. You did. Every time.

And it was the same thing over and over again. You started your day trying to keep Mr. Allen up to task, failed, got reprimanded and degraded by a nasty human, held back tears and then took a long drive with loud music to clear your head with a quick stop for dinner, probably at a drive-through.

Needless to say, you were already planning on quitting. You’d gotten really lucky with Alfred. And even working with Harry hadn’t been as bad as it was working for Mrs. Allen and her husband. But you tried not to think about Harry if you could help it.

By the time Mr. Allen got off the phone he was running late for his physical therapy appointment. You got him moving along quickly and sent him on his way but not before Mrs. Allen started poking around and making comments under her breath.

“What was that?” You turned to look behind yourself at the wicked witch as she stood near the edge of the foyer.

“He’s late again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“That is correct.”

She rolled her eyes, “What’s the point of having a personal assistant who can’t even keep the boss on schedule?”

You smiled, holding back your true thoughts, “Well, being as my job description doesn’t entail using physical force on the boss, which is what it would take to get Mr. Allen to keep on time for anything, I’m certain you’ll find that once again, this isn’t my responsibility.”

“Lazy,” she spoke under her breath.

You tilted your head and squinted your eyes at her, “That’s the last thing I am. Now, if you don’t mind, my workday is over. Have a good evening.”

You walked past her to go into your room to pack up your laptop and leave. You’d stay at your own place that night. You hated staying at the Allen’s house. Not only was the room they’d given you a tiny spec of a thing with no windows, no closet, and not even a single rug to cover the cold tile floors but being anywhere near Mrs. Allen made your skin crawl.

“I don’t know why we bother with the room for you,” she was standing in the doorway when you turned around.

“You really didn’t bother much with the room in the first place. That’s why I don’t stay here. My house has a better bed with a big window looking into my backyard. I just feel better in my own bed at night.”

You walked past her and held your breath so as not to inhale her disgusting, pungent perfume. You used to like the scent she wore. But now you loathed it. Whenever you smelled it, even on another woman, it made you queasy. You very much did not like Mrs. Allen.

You turned up the volume on your car radio the moment your front tires hit the road. You always looked forward to going home after work. This day wasn’t as bad as you’d had before and tomorrow you’d do it all over again.

And instead of stopping at a drive-through for fast food, you decided you’d stop at the grocery store and pick up ingredients to actually make something fresh.

Typically you didn’t cook. You didn’t have time for it. Picking up groceries would put you home at almost 8 pm. And then you still needed to cook so you wouldn’t be eating until close to 9 and then you could finally relax with a glass of wine and a good book or something trashy on television. Which was why drive-throughs were your go-to dinner plans. It meant you were home by 7:30 and dinner was already cooked. Not the best use of money and certainly not the healthiest way to live but you wouldn’t be doing it much longer.

You had a meeting to attend with Mr. and Mrs. Allen the following week that piqued your interest. It was for a piece of art that they’d been looking for. And someone found it for them. From an art dealer who was not too far away. You didn’t know for sure but you had a feeling. And you wanted to find out if that feeling was right.

Maybe you were a masochist and just wanted to pour salt onto the wound of your split open heart one more time. Or maybe you did have some hope that it was Harry and that maybe you could try and receive his feelings for you once and for all.

But it’d been just over 9 months since you’d seen him and you were sure he’d moved on by now. There would be no reason for him to still be pining over you the way you were over him. And what were the chances that it was him in the first place? You didn’t know but you needed to find out.

Yeah. You regretted what you’d done. Pushing him away like that. But once you’d done it, it felt like it was too late to go back. Maybe it was your pride. Or that little voice in the back of your head that told you men always leave and they always lie. That anyone that might love you would probably just disappoint you in the end.

But now you were in therapy and talking to someone opened your eyes to your self-sabotaging ways. You had been certain that the way you felt couldn’t be helped. That you were a prisoner to your trauma and all the hurt and that it was for the best. You’d been wrong, though. You could help the way you processed feelings and the way you responded when things got hard. You didn’t have to push away the notion that a man could love you or keep running away from your problems.

After picking up ingredients to make a nice little dinner for yourself you arrived at your cute house.

You loved the place. Loved the neighborhood. You found it a few weeks after you told Harry to leave your apartment. It wasn’t that far from your old place but you felt like it was good enough for a new start. At the time, you were ready to take the plunge. To move on. It was just a rental but it felt like your own place.

Though, not long after moving in you started feeling like getting rid of every trace of Harry had been a bad idea. You missed him. However, you didn’t recognize how you were feeling for him until you began therapy. The more you spoke honestly about everything and without any judgment, you began to peel off layers of yourself that you had unconsciously piled on to protect yourself. But that only wound up making things worse.

And one night, almost six months since you’d seen him, you decided to drive past his big, gated home. You still had the fob to his entry but of course, you wouldn’t use it. You only wanted to just drive past. To your surprise, there was a For Sale sign stuck in the grass in front of the gate.

You parked across from the house and tried to see if there was anything that indicated he’d actually moved out but seeing inside was impossible. You could see the top level of the house and that was really it.

The sinking feeling in your chest that you’d probably never see him again started to settle over you slowly. You’d moved away and blocked him from everything and then deleted his contact and now he was no longer living in the only place you knew where he might be. He was gone.

But then when you helped set up the meeting with the art dealer there was the smallest tinge of hope there. You felt like this might be your last chance. You had just been about to quit when Mrs. Allen gave you the number to an assistant of a dealer who had access to a painting they wanted. You never learned the name of the art dealer, only of the assistant who worked for them.

So you’d stick it out until after the meeting and then you’d give up your hope for ever seeing Harry again if it wasn’t him. And you’d also quit your job once and for all.

Of course, it’s not him. Don’t get your hopes up.

You had to remind yourself of that over and over again. The chances were slim that you would actually be seeing Harry.

Either way, you were looking forward to that meeting. Even if it wasn’t Harry, you’d be free of Mr. and Mrs. Allen once and for all after you quit.

But the days dragged on slowly. The only thing that was good about the time that led up to the meeting was the little secret that you were quitting. It was something you were excited about.

The morning of the meeting you woke up well before your alarm went off. You’d been unable to fall back asleep as you remembered the last time you and Harry slept together. The words he spoke to you that night haunted you every day since, “Want to make you feel so good. Want to make you smile, Y/n. Want to make you happy.”

You sighed. You hoped it was him at the meeting. You hoped there was still some way to salvage what you’d done. Hoped there was still something there. If it was him, that is.

Your entire morning routine had turned into a spa event. You turned on your coffee pot and then got into the shower, getting yourself ready for the possibility of anything and everything. You had selected your outfit days prior and put on a full face of makeup. You were going to look your absolute best.

And no matter what the outcome of the meeting was, today was a good day. Because at the end of it, you’d be a free woman. You’d never again step foot in the Allen house. You took all of your belongings from the spec of a bedroom over a few days so no one would notice. You rarely stayed over anyway so it wasn’t like you needed to keep much there in the first place.

You had a taxi take you to the Allen’s on that day. Because your plan was to quit the moment the painting was purchased and you weren’t going to be going back to their house with them after the meeting just to get your car. You’d get a taxi home. It was quite dramatic but you couldn’t wait to quit. Couldn’t wait to tell Mrs. Allen you were done and then walk off. Only a few more hours.

When you arrived at the Allen’s your first stop was the kitchen to make Mr. Allen’s coffee (skim milk and stevia) and Mrs. Allen’s chai green tea with raw honey. This was always the best part of your day. Things were usually quiet, Mrs. Allen wasn’t raging just yet, and the morning light that came into their gorgeous kitchen felt peaceful. While the coffee was perking you brought Mrs. Allen her tea drink where you knew you’d find her and placed it down on its coaster next to her. As usual, she did not acknowledge your existence or even say thank you.

Mr. Allen was always cordial, however.

“Morning Mr. Allen. Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank you, Y/n. Have you seen my wife this morning?”

You smiled and stood next to his desk, “I just gave her some tea. Why?”

“I think she wanted to make sure we had wire information set up to pay for the painting today. She’s very set on making the purchase. Can you double-check we have everything we need?”

“I’m certain we have everything we need but I’ll definitely do a quick check.”

As you suspected, everything was ready to go. When you confirmed as much you went to find Mrs. Allen to tell her.

“Mr. Allen told me you wanted to make sure the wire instructions were ready and I just wanted to let you know that we’ve got everything we need and it’s all ready to go for when it comes time to pay.”

“Good. Now,” she turned to look at you, “this is a meeting we cannot be late for so I’d appreciate it if you could have everything ready for us so there are no delays. I don’t want any excuses.”

You nodded, stifling the small laugh before it could make it out of your mouth, “Of course, Mrs. Allen.”

But as always, Mr. Allen was dawdling. You did remind him of the meeting but he assured you he was going to be on time. He wasn’t. You weren’t surprised.

When it was time to leave he was still in his office in his slippers on his third cup of coffee talking to his brother about sports.

“I told you this is a meeting we cannot be late for. This is unacceptable!” Mrs. Allen was red in the face as she barked at you. Somehow, she always seemed shocked when her husband held things up. You didn’t know how it was possible that she was so surprised.

You blinked your eyes and sighed, “He doesn’t need to be at the meeting with us. I say we just go. He’ll be fine here by himself.”

She nodded and mumbled under her breath about your incompetence, “Tell him we’re leaving without him. I’m going to get the driver to pull the car around.”

You poked your head into the office and waved at Mr. Allen and he pulled the phone from his ear to look at you with his brows raised. As if he didn’t know what was going on.

“We’re going to leave now for the painting. You can stay behind. No need for you to be there. Okay?”

He smiled at you and nodded before getting back to his call. You knew he didn’t care. This painting wasn’t for him. It was for Mrs. Allen. It was something she’d been wanting. She’d just hang it up alongside the rest of her collection of exotic animal paintings and artwork.

The car ride was silent. Which you preferred. You tried not speaking to Mrs. Allen when you could help it. Luckily she wasn’t interested in having a conversation with you.

And 30 minutes later when you arrived, your mind was swirling with thoughts of what could happen and what probably wouldn’t.

Your nerves were all over the place. If you were about to walk into a room with Harry Styles, being nervous was warranted. You hadn’t seen his handsome face in so long and wanted so badly for it to be him.

It was unlikely. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. No reason to get your hopes up.

You and Mrs. Allen got out of the car once the driver had let you both out at the front.

It was a public gallery so everyone could just walk in to admire the art. You noticed there were people inside looking at the sculptures and paintings as you followed behind Mrs. Allen toward the desk at the side of the room where a young woman sat.

“Hi. I’m Delia Allen here for a meeting to view the Ghaui piece.”

The young woman smiled widely, “Yes. Of course! Just follow me. We have it moved into a special viewing room just for you.”

If there was ever a moment in your life where you thought that one small step toward a physical room could forever change your life, it was this. What if he was there? What if he wasn’t?

The gallery wasn’t a large space but there were temporary walls placed around the room to act as dividers and a spot for more art to hang. You wove around the walls and into a hallway where the young woman stepped into a room with Mrs. Allen just behind her. You paused for a moment before stepping inside. This was it. It either was or it wasn’t.

Placing your hand on the frame of the door and taking a deep breath you breached the space to enter the viewing room and found that there was no one else inside. It was the painting that Mrs. Allen had been so keen on buying, hung up with lights aimed at it, a table and chairs.

You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t this. You imagined someone would be inside the room waiting for you.

“The dealer will be right in. He’s finishing up something with someone else. Five minutes tops.”

The painting was of elephants in an African wildlife scene. It wasn’t your taste but you had to respect Mrs. Allen for her interests. If there was anything about her you could say you liked, it was her love of animals and how much support she’d given African wildlife sanctuaries. She’d also gone on many safaris (without Mr. Allen you learned) and helped fund conservation parks that helped employ people and protect the land and animals. Honestly, when you found out this was her thing you felt like you were looking at a different woman.

She was still a bitch, though.

“I thought this meeting was set up and ready to go, Y/n,” she turned to look at you. As if somehow the dealer running late was your fault.

“It is set and ready. The girl said the dealer would be right in. We just need to wait a couple of minutes.”

You didn’t look at her face as you responded. You were done looking at her face. After this meeting, you’d never have to look at it again.

“Sergi could’ve come if I knew this was going to happen.”

You rolled your eyes, back facing her as you looked over the lines and the paint on the canvas. It was a well-done piece of art.

When the door opened only a moment later you felt your heart stop for a split second, a chill ran down your face, over your shoulders, and through your spine as you slowly turned around when Mrs. Allen spoke, “Finally.”

Your vision grew spotty, like tiny particles floating around and mixing up the scene before you. Fuzzy like a grey screen on a television. You blinked your eyes to clear your sight as you looked at him for the first time in over 9 months. It was him.

And his reaction to you appeared much the same, with him pausing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“Hello? Are you the dealer?” Mrs. Allen was great at ruining a moment.

Harry’s eyes blinked as he shook his head and finally peeled his sight from you to look at the other woman in the room. He cleared his throat, closing the door behind himself, and stepped forward to Mrs. Allen with his hand out, “Yes. I’m the dealer. Harry Styles,” he shook her hand and then shot his eyes back to you, taking in your outfit quickly before moving toward you, his hand outstretched in silence.

You hadn’t moved from your spot next to the painting. You hadn’t closed your mouth or peeped a single word because you couldn’t. And even though you had a feeling that it was him before the meeting ever took place, the surprise and shock you felt was overwhelming.

It was really him. It was Harry. And you couldn’t believe it was him.

You placed your hand in his to shake and the moment was eternity. Your eyes pinned together, palms warm to the touch, searching gazes, and a million little thoughts dancing around your heads. It was real. He was real. You were real. The moment was real.

But of course, as Mrs. Allen tended to do she interrupted the odd reunion and began speaking, “Please go over the details with me. I think I’d like to know a little more and then we can talk price.”

Harry’s adam’s apple bobbed as he released your hand and straightened his posture and he handed a folder to Mrs. Allen and began to go over everything she might want to know.

Your heart was racing and you were unable to listen to anything he said regarding the painting. It all sounded like gibberish to you but you could hear his smooth deep voice as he spoke, and the occasional glance in your direction had your skin sparking in delight.

“Earth to Y/n,” Mrs. Allen waved her hand in front of your face and you slowly drifted from your reverie back to reality and looked at her.

“Jesus, it’s like herding cats with you,” she pointed, “Let’s get this part ready. Open your laptop.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop, placing it on the table so you could begin the wire payment. You looked from Mrs. Allen to Harry and then back to your screen as the bank sight loaded.

Of course, you had to log in and the internet connection wasn’t as fast as you’d have liked so Mrs. Allen let out an annoyed sigh.

“Always like this with her,” she looked at Harry with her arms crossed, “Slow. Lazy–“

“Are you serious?” Harry sounded perturbed. Aghast.

You looked from him to Mrs. Allen and the look on his face matched the sound of his voice as he looked at her with disdain.

“Of course I am. You don’t know her so you have no idea what–“

“I do actually know her,” he glanced at you softening his gaze. “Don’t speak about her that way or the deal is off.”

You blinked and smiled gently as you opened up the bank wire screen.

“What? You can’t treat me like this. I’m a paying client. I will walk out of here without this painting if you dare–“

“Then leave.” He looked at her with his brows raised in a dare.

She huffed and clutched her purse, “Fine. Just… do the deal, Y/n. I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom and get some air. When I return I want this to be over with.”

She walked out of the room and slammed the door rudely and Harry stepped in front of the computer as you looked up at him, “Y/n. I can’t believe it’s you. Are you working for her?”

You stood up straight and nodded, “Yeah. It’s a disaster. I’m quitting as soon as this is over. It’s been my plan for a month.”

He smiled, “You’re quitting? Now?”

You nodded again, “Yes. As soon as this deal is complete I’m done.”

“Can I see you? Like, after this? Dinner maybe?”

You sputtered a tiny laugh. It was like music to your ears, “Okay. Why not?”

Harry grinned widely and pointed at the computer, “Let’s get this over with then. Push that payment through and let’s get out of here.”

There it was again, the blurred vision, grey and colored specs floating around you as if you were in the grey screen of a TV. You couldn’t believe it. Perhaps it was only a dream. Perhaps you were about to wake up and it was all going to have been just a wild dream that you’d never recover from.

You called the bank with a smile on your face to begin the wire transfer. Everything was set as you entered the details into the account on your laptop and spoke with the representative.

But of course, there was one thing holding the whole thing up. Mrs. Allen had to be there to verbally give the go-ahead to the man on the phone. You were not authorized.

So when she came back to the room and the payment wasn’t yet completed she was furious, “How can you mess up the simplest things, Y/n?”

“All you need to do is tell the man this wire transfer from your bank to the owner’s is authorized. You’re holding this up. Not her,” Harry spoke.

She pulled the cell phone from you with a sigh and spoke into the receiver as you smiled at Harry.

“There. It’s done.” She handed the phone to you and the transaction was finalized. Emails went out to all the parties involved in the sale with the receipt and you closed your laptop.

“Good. Now, have someone wrap this so I can bring it back without getting scratched.”

Harry nodded, “I’ll have Laira get someone for you and they’ll bring it to your car.”

Mrs. Allen looked at you and snapped her fingers, “You can go wait in the car for me. No need to have you standing around and gawking like an idiot.”

You stuffed your laptop into your bag and looked at Mrs. Allen, “Delia?” You made it a point to call her by her first name, which you knew she hated, “I quit. Working for you has been hell. You’ll go home without me as I’ve already made other arrangements. Tell Mr. Allen it was lovely to work for him. I’ll send him an email explaining why I quit tomorrow. Also, the agency won’t work with you again after I share details and proof of the way you treated me.”

Her mouth dropped open and the look of surprise on her face was quite hilarious as you pushed passed her with Harry following behind you.

You felt exhilarated and your heart was pumping blood through your body and your limbs rapidly as you smiled and made your way to the front of the gallery.

Harry kept in step with you as he waved at the girl at the desk, “Please help Mrs. Allen get the painting wrapped and put into her car. I’m done for the day. Call me if you need anything.”

You felt the warm air hit your cheeks when you stepped outside into the sun with Harry behind you.

“Y/n, I’m still kind of in disbelief that you’re here. I must be dreaming,” he turned toward you with a wide grin.

“I feel the same way. Like I’m just going to wake up and it’s all been a dream.”

“Pinch me,” he put his arm out and pushed his shirt sleeve up to his forearm, displaying the tattoos on his skin.

You laughed and put your thumb and pointer over his skin and gave him a good pinch and he let out a deep breath, “Do it again.”

You couldn’t stop the small chuckle that fell from your lips as you pinched him again and he grabbed the tops of your arms tightly, “Y/n I’ve missed you so much. I’ve wanted to talk to you so many times. I have so much to tell you.”

“Me too, Harry. There’s so much to say.”

He led you to his car and you both got inside. It felt so surreal to be climbing into Harry’s car with him, “Where would like to go eat?” He looked at you from the driver’s seat as he started up his car.

You shook your head, “I don’t know. Don’t care really.”

He nodded, “Yeah I don’t care either. Just as long as I get to go there with you. Okay, we’ll go to this spot I found some months ago. They have great crab cakes.”

When he pulled out to the street you looked at him, “New car then?”

He nodded, “Yeah. The lease came up on the other one and figured something different would be nice. I’ve had this for a few months.”

“And did you move?”

He licked his lips and glanced at you, “Yeah. Not long after you left. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. I… did a lot of thinking about what I want in life and how I want to live it. The place was too big. Not sustainable for me any longer. Too expensive.”

“Really? That’s surprising.”

He breathed out through his nose as he nodded, “I stopped dealing with stolen items. It was dumb of me to get involved in all that in the first place. I never started off being an art dealer with the idea that I would be wealthy. It began because I genuinely love the art world and discovering new pieces. I lost that somewhere along the way and you leaving like you did remind me of what was important in life. Money is not all there is.”

You were surprised to hear this. It made you wonder what else had changed.

The restaurant was a small, hip-looking spot. You had both arrived before the dinner crowd, it was still a bit early for dinner, but to you, it didn’t matter. You were with Harry again and even though you weren’t quite sure what to expect things were going better than you imagined.

You and Harry were seated at a small round table for two by a big window looking out over the parking lot. It wasn’t fancy but it felt amazing to get face to face with him after all that time.

“Y/n, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look incredible. I know I said it already but I really missed you. I hope you and I can keep in touch after this. If that’s something you wanted. It would mean so much to me to be able to see you again.”

You picked at the corner of the laminated menu that had been placed on the table in front of you and looked up at him, “Harry, I missed you a lot too. I regretted the way I ended things. Moving away and blocking you. I thought it was the right thing to do. I deleted every part of you from my life and by the time I realized it was a mistake I didn’t have your contacts anymore,” you shook your head as you looked into his eyes, “I’m sorry I did it that way. I’m sorry for walking away from you.”

Harry reached across the table and put his hand over yours, “I’m glad you did. Y/n, I don’t know if I would have had the kind of self-reflection and epiphany I did if you’d stayed. But you leaving like that made me rethink everything I thought was important. Made me realize that dealing in the black market and jet-setting all over the world to do something that goes against my very core… I hated it. I hated you leaving but it opened my eyes.”

“So you really don’t do any of that anymore?”

He shook his head, “No. Now I bounce around from gallery to gallery to view pieces and check the legitimacy, the provenance. I work for myself still but now I’m not making as much money. Which is fine!” He laughed, dimples digging into his cheeks, “It’s better this way. I sleep better knowing I’m doing things right now.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Like twenty minutes from here. Bought a regular-sized house with a garage and an ugly entryway,” he grinned, “But I love it. I love it because it makes me feel happy. It’s not so much to maintain. Had to let go of all the staff I had but other than that, I haven’t missed the income as much as I thought I would.”

You were impressed with him. You never imagined he’d stop dealing in illegal items because you knew the money was so good.

The waiter stood at your table and you both told him what you’d like to drink. A sparkling water with lemon for you, and a hot black tea for him.

“So you were working for that woman. She’s awful. How long did you stay with her?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I worked for the Allens for just over seven months. Hated every minute of it. She only got worse as time went on. I thought once she got used to me she’d lighten up be she was truly evil. Would just talk down to me and blame me for everything that went wrong.”

“Why did you stay there for so long?”

“At first I stayed hoping it would get better. You know you kind of get into a groove and can look past bullshit and then everyone starts to get used to one another. But that never happened. I tried to stick it out. But then of course I needed the money too. Well, on some level. The security of having a job is nice and the rent at my new house is a lot more than what I paid at my apartment. Figured I’d wait for the right moment. Then about a month ago I found out that Delia wanted to buy this piece of art she’d been wanting and she was going to go through a dealer and I was just about to quit. I really was but,” you shrugged and smiled as you looked down at the menu, “Though it would be funny if maybe you were the dealer,” you brought your eyes back up to him.

He squinted, his brows pulling in as he looked at you, “You continued working for them when you thought maybe I was going to be the dealer on the sale? So you could see me?”

You nodded and smiled, “I mean. Sort of. I really didn’t think it was going to be you but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just see. So I stuck it out. My plan was to quit the moment the deal was over. That’s why I was saying that at the gallery. It was like, one last thing, just to see if it was you and then I was done working for them.”

Harry laughed and pulled his lips into his mouth, shaking his head in amazement, “I can’t believe you wanted to see me. I was certain you were done and wanted nothing to do with me. I did go back to your apartment one day, maybe like two months later. But you’d already moved out. And you never responded to any of my texts or calls. Figured that was that. What made you want to see me?”

You tried not to feel bad how you ended things with him but it was hard not to, “I really did like you. It was just hard for me to admit how much. And then Brandy, my best friend, talked me into going to therapy. And honestly? Just talking about how I process things and my emotions with someone else helped me a ton. Helped me see how I self-sabotage. Anything that might make me happy, specifically romance, was a big block for me. I didn’t even realize it consciously. I think I knew I pushed people away when I didn’t need to. And I realized I did that with you.”

Harry nodded as he listened and the waiter placed your drinks down on the table before taking your orders for food.

It felt like you had so much to tell him and you could see Harry felt the same with everything he admitted to you. You loved listening to him and watching him as he spoke or the way he gazed at you as you recounted the last 9 months to him.

While so much did happen in those 9 months, you felt comfortable sitting at that small table talking to Harry about it all. Everything felt so familiar and nice with him. It felt like you were both exactly on the same page and this time around maybe you could really have something special with him. If he wanted the same thing as you.

“So you missed me? What did you miss about me?” Harry smirked at you as he took a scoop of the dessert you were both sharing.

“Hmm… I think I liked it when you were nice to me and vulnerable with me. Our late-night kitchen chats. How you took up for me with that one lady. And even today you did it again with Mrs. Allen. I think there were times when I hated you but mostly I liked you. And those things I missed.”

His smirk didn’t fall from his lips and it looked like he was holding back what he wanted to say.

“What? What’s that look?” You pointed your fork at him.

Harry laughed and looked down at the table before putting his eyes back on yours, “You didn’t miss… like my body or something?”

You laughed and grinned at him, “Oh my god, Harry,” you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“I mean you have to admit, Y/n, we are very good together. Aren’t we? Like… just fit so well me and you.”

You inhaled and let your eyes trail over his features as you tried to keep the grin off your face.

“You’re insane.” You licked your lips.

“No, I’m not. You know it’s true. Tell me you’ve had better with anyone else and I’ll tell you you’re lying. You missed me but you also missed all those dirty little things I did to you.”

“You’re way too confident and cocky still,” you laughed.

“Am I?” His smile was something that always got you. The grin, the dimples, the crinkles at the edge of his eyes.

“What do you want me to say, Harry? That I missed little Styles down there?” You sputtered a laugh.

“Little? Is that what you’d call it?” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward closer to you, “You said otherwise when–“

“Anything else for you two?” The waiter broke the tension as Harry shot his eyes up to the man.

“I think we’ll take the check. Thank you.”

You laughed as the server walked away and Harry cocked his head with that smirk still plastered on his face.

The sun was beginning to go down as the check was laid on the table and you insisted on splitting it with Harry. He grumped about you paying anything at all but you weren’t taking no for an answer.

You were surprised you’d been at the restaurant for so long. Hours had gone by but it didn’t feel that long because you two had so much to talk about. So much lost time to make up for.

“So where do you live, Y/n? Should I drop you off at home?”

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Not too far from here. Off Coalfax and the interstate. Do you want to drop me off?”

Harry’s smile softened, “I don’t want to drop you off. No. I want to continue this. I’m not ready for you to disappear again.”

Swallowing you reached your hand toward his and rubbed your fingers over his knuckles, “Then you don’t have to drop me off. Come with me. I’ll invite you in.”

Harry stood up quickly, taking your hand in his as you both walked to the exit and toward his car. You laughed as he pulled you along.

“Coalfax? Just North of here?” He spoke as he started up his car.

“Yeah. Exactly. You’ll take a right on Coalfax. I’ll tell you where to go.”

Harry kept glancing at you and the smile on his face stayed throughout the entire drive. You were sure he was feeling the kind of excitement you had bubbling in your tummy. Still not quite sure of what to expect but nearly certain of what could happen.

Maybe you were jumping in too fast but maybe… just maybe the timing was exactly right. You couldn’t tell but you weren’t going to let yourself overthink it. That wasn’t going to happen with you anymore. You already regretted too much of what had happened with Harry and this time would be different.

Harry parked his car on the street in front of your small house and you both walked up to your door, “You’ve still got the same car,” he noted.

“Yup. Runs well. No payment other than insurance. Cheap maintenance. I love the old thing. Hope I never have to get rid of it.”

Harry followed behind you through your front door and you switched on the light before you felt his hand tugging at yours.

You turned to face him and the reality of everything was clear suddenly. You’d reconnected with Harry. The one man you couldn’t stop thinking about. Couldn’t stop replaying his words to you, couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed you and took care of you.

“I can’t believe you’re standing here in my living room,” you smiled at him and Harry shook his head.

“I can’t believe I’m here either. I can’t believe I’m looking at you and that you were there today and…” he swallowed as he squeezed your hand, “I don’t want to scare you off, Y/n, but you have no idea how happy I am right now. How this all feels like destiny. Like we were meant to be here right now.”

You laughed through your nose, “I don’t really believe in stuff like that, but it doesn’t kind of feel that way, doesn’t it? Like another chance.”

He nodded, “Another chance. Exactly.”

“Do you want to sit? Or would you like some wine?”

Harry looked around the space of your living room. He hadn’t taken his surroundings in until then as he was too focused on you.

“Maybe a glass of wine. If it’s not too much trouble.”

You grinned, “Of course it’s not. Come. It’s in the kitchen.”

The light flickered on overhead as you flipped the switch and then opened your cabinet to retrieve the bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Y/n, this place is really nice. I like it.” Harry looked around as he spoke.

“I like it too. It’s why I moved here. Felt like home when I walked in to view it for the first time. It’s just a rental but it’s perfect for me.”

You placed the bottle on the counter and handed him a glass of wine.

Harry held his glass up, “Thank you for inviting me in and for humoring me with your kindness.”

You laughed, “Humoring you? Harry, I am fully genuine right now. I wanted to have dinner with you and I wanted you to come into my home. I’m not just being nice. I want you here.”

“I like hearing that.”

You both took a sip of your wine as Harry kept his eyes on you.

It was warm. Searing hot in fact. Harry was gorgeous and he was in your house and he was looking at you with those green eyes that had looked at you so many times before.

“Have you…” He paused as he placed his glass down and cleared his throat, “Have you seen anyone since? Like dated? Are you dating?”

You laughed at the way he fumbled his words. He seemed nervous suddenly, “No. I haven’t.” You placed your own glass down and suddenly felt that flutter of nerves, “And… I’m a little nervous to ask you the same.” You raised your brows at him.

He shook his head, “No.”

You nodded, “Surprised to hear that. But relieved I have to admit.”

“Why are you surprised?”

“Because I thought you’d have your pick. In fact even today when I thought there was a chance I might see you, felt like it was silly because surely you’d moved on and found someone.”

Harry’s brows stitched together, “I had a hard time feeling okay after that day when I left your apartment. Have actually never been so depressed and distraught over anyone before. I couldn’t just move on. Even when I started to feel a little better about it all. I just missed you so much. I know you blocked me on every platform out there. I got the hint when you didn’t text or call back. But I still missed you.”

You smiled, “And you’re not on social media at all. I did look but I kind of felt like if I did find you it wouldn’t have been good for me. I know I could have tried harder to reach out. I think I was a little scared of what I’d find.”

“What did you think you’d find?”

“That you were dating someone. I don’t know.”

The air shifted when Harry brought his hand up to your chin and gently gripped your face, “You’re the only woman I’ve had my mind on all these months. The only one I could ever think about. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your lips parted and you blinked your eyes as you took in his words.

“Do you understand what I mean? I don’t know if you feel the same way about me but just to know that you missed me and want me to be here with you right now means everything to me.”

“I don’t want anyone else either, Harry.”

“Does that mean you want me? I just need to hear it if it’s true, Y/n.”

You gulped and nodded, “Yeah. I do.”

The hand that held your chin released you and moved around to the back of your neck while his other hand landed on your hip and he pressed his lips to yours.

At last. At last.

You closed your eyes and drew your hands up to the back of his neck and moaned as he opened his mouth and you opened yours. Lips winding and smearing and pushing…

It felt like you were looking down at yourself, watching as you kissed Harry in your kitchen. And it was a beautiful sight. The two of you joined, grasping onto the other, hearts thrashing in your chests, bodies alight.

Harry’s grip on your side tightened, his fingers pinching around your clothes. The hand at the back of your neck squeezing and holding you in place as his lips slid against yours

You allowed yourself to be pulled in closer and moved your hand into his curls. You missed his scent. You missed his touch. His warmth. His care.

He parted from the kiss and moved his hand to your jaw, “Can we start over? This time, Y/n, you’re not going to regret it. This is it for us. Understand me?”

His words were almost a threat. Or maybe a promise. Both perhaps.

“Yes, Harry. I’m not going to regret it this time. I promise.”

He nodded, still holding you close, and then softly ghosted his lips over yours, “Because I can’t lose you again. I want this with you.”

You were gonna lose it. Everything was too much and not enough. You wanted him and you wanted to go slow but you wanted to tear his clothes off and feel him all over.

“I want you, Harry,” you breathed out against his lips as you clung to him, “I want this with you.”

You felt the vibration of his moan against your mouth as he dropped his lips to your chin and then along the curve of your jaw. When his lips pressed into the skin on your neck you gasped and hugged him tighter. His mouth drew your flesh in as he sucked a spot and then lowered to the curve of your shoulder and neck, suckling again at the skin where you knew it would be bruised.

“Fuck…” he whispered as he pressed his nose against your jaw, “Where’s your bedroom, Y/n?”

That was easy. The house was small. You led him down the hallway to your bedroom where you turned on your lamp and he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Take your clothes off.”

You were surprised by his sudden command but you didn’t want to ask questions. The only thing you wanted was him and his hands and his body…

You pulled off your top before unzipping your skirt and kicking it down your legs. Harry’s eyes were dark as he continued taking his clothes off while he watched you undress.

When you were only in your underwear and bra he pointed, “Off. All of it.”

You swallowed and did as he said. Taking your bra off first and then your panties slowly as you used your bed to keep balance.

Harry was left in only his boxer briefs as he stalked toward you like a predator. You’d seen him in action before, you’d seen him a little dominant but this was different. It was like he had something to prove.

“On the bed, Y/n.”

You gave him a curt nod and sat down before scooting back into your bed. He climbed between your legs and moved your thighs apart, “You want this right? You want me? Want us?” He looked at you.

You nodded, “Yes, Harry. I do.”

That seemed like all he needed to know before he finally placed his lips on your chubby thigh, dotting wet kisses down and toward the soft inside near to your crotch and then he switched to the other side, kissing upward gently as he looked at you and then gripped the back of your thighs to push your legs apart, switching his sight from your face to your pussy.

“Y/n I missed everything about you,” he lowered himself, putting his stomach down onto your bed as he held himself over your core, “I know I only had you twice like this but I missed your body. Your smell,” he let go of your left leg as he pressed his fingers onto your mound and slowly dragged them downward, “The way your thighs part and how your skin looks right here,” he pressed a kiss over the spot right next to your labia.

But then he pushed himself up and climbed over you releasing your leg, his hands finding your breasts, “Your perfect tits,” his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue laving over your sensitive bud and kissing over your soft skin toward your other side, lapping at your plush breasts before dragging his mouth upward to your neck, “Your skin, your voice,” hot peppered kisses up to your jaw until his mouth met yours again.

“Your mouth, this mouth,” he licked against your lips and pushed his mouth against the edge of yours and ran his nose against yours, “You. I missed you. Everything. Your heart and your laugh. I can’t do it again. I can’t go through that again.”

You felt his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you, “Don’t leave me. Not ever again.”

You shook your head and lifted a hand up to his jaw, “Never. I don’t want to, Harry. I won’t.”

He grinned dreamily at you, his eyes wandering over your features slowly before he lowered himself down your body again, pressing his shoulders to the back of your thighs, and hooked his arms underneath to keep you in place.

The moment you felt his mouth on your core you clenched your eyelids closed and sighed. It had meant so much to you to have him loving on you, touching you, needing you. And Harry was the only man who’d ever worked an orgasm out of you with his mouth.

And even then, his tongue dragging through your pussylips and up to your clit, over and over again in a teasing, slow build it had you unwinding and unfolding for him. You wanted to give yourself to him fully. And that felt so good.

It felt good to trust yourself for once. To allow yourself to trust him. You could push past your feelings of inadequacy and thinking that no one would actually want you for you. Because that was a lie. You had been lying to yourself for so long and even though you knew it was your own hangup, it was hard to get past it. Until now. Because now you weren’t going to undermine yourself anymore. You learned it was okay to question motives but that it was also okay to accept kindness and love where it was offered.

You felt as he applied open-mouthed kisses to your clit and finally began to push over it, the pressure and the slide of his tongue right where you needed him had you moaning. Had you getting his face all wet.

Harry’s mouth and tongue worked at you strategically; slow teases of a gentle lap at your bud and then a harsh suck and flick to make you shiver. Every wet drag of his muscle against your clit drew you closer to your end as you gave in to the feeling.

And just like the other times he’d eaten you out you reached down to push your fingers into his hair and arched your back into him as a signal for him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. And he seemed to understand your nonverbal cue as he dug in and continued lapping and sucking exactly like you liked.

He watched your tits wobble and your body jerk and convulse as he kept his mouth suctioned to your pussy with his tongue wagging and slicking over your puffy clit until he felt you pressing his head down further and you coughed out a loud groan when your thighs started to shake.

His moans into your pussy vibrated through to your guts and it felt like you were going to explode.

“Fuck, Harry!” You were grinding yourself into his mouth and nose as you felt your release snap and you lost control of your volume and the sound of your voice and your limbs as he held you down so he could press broad strokes of his tongue over your pussy back and forth.

Harry closed his eyes and let you use his face and mouth to grind your clit on as you orgasmed. His cock was so hard; just tasting you and hearing your gasps and pleas of need had him spinning in the clouds. It made him happy to hear how good he was making you feel.

And that’s what he wanted the most. Was to make you happy. He wanted your smiles and laughter. He wanted you to enjoy his company and to feel happy with him. He wanted your heart and your soul and everything that made you who you were because he’d already decided he’d give you everything he could. His heart was yours already.

Ever since that day you kicked him out of your apartment, he hadn’t stopped thinking about all the things he did wrong. How childish he’d been with you. He hadn’t meant to fuck up so badly but he would make sure that his old ways were in the past. Now he was yours and he would prove to you that you could trust him.

When you gently released his hair and pushed yourself up to look at him he lifted with a grin, “Felt good?” His mouth and chin were glistening with you.

You laughed and nodded as you watched him slide his underwear down his sturdy thighs and toss them onto the floor. His body was even better than before. You weren’t sure why. Maybe he’d been hitting the gym harder. Or maybe it was just that now things were different. And you were seeing him in a different light. Looking at him in a way that you never had before. But you were still focused on his strong build and dark tattoos as well. That glorious cock, bobbing and heavy was all yours. You loved the way he felt inside of you and how perfect it looked hanging between his thighs like it was.

You sat up and got to your knees to adjust yourself and laid a palm on his thigh as you looked at him and licked your lips. He understood your hint as you moved your hand up toward his cock and he looked down at your fingers before placing his hand over yours, “We’ll do that later. Plenty of time to get to all that. I just want to make love to you, Y/n.”

“But you ate me out. I should at least–“

“No. Later,” he got to his knees and pushed you gently back to your bottom, “You don’t understand. I can’t wait one more second to be inside of you. We’ll have plenty of time for that other stuff but I haven’t had sex since in 9 months. If you put your mouth anywhere near my cock it’s gonna make me come too fast. A little out of practice,” he smiled with a small laugh as you laid your back into the mattress and he settled himself between your legs, hips tucking against yours.

You could feel his rigid, girthy cock slide through your labia as he rolled his hips down and up, wetting his shaft, “Want to fuck you now. Okay?”

You moaned and nodded. It was okay by you. You knew there’d be time for blowjobs later so you didn’t mind having him inside your cunt, stuffing you to the brim like you knew he would. There was plenty of time for all that, now that you weren’t going to be running off from him again.

“Want this cock, honey?” He continued rocking his hips. Sliding himself up and down, the tip of his cock collecting your arousal and pushing it up to your clit.

“Yes, Harry. Please.” You bucked upward to catch him at your entrance but he pressed your hip down and grinned at you playfully.

“Love hearing you say please. Such a good girl for me.”

You groaned when he wouldn’t push in right away, still teasing you with the drag of his thick shaft up and down through your labia and against your clit. The sound of it was lewd. Filthy.

“Please fuck me!” You whined.

Harry paused his motions, keeping his eyes on yours as he reared back and took his base in his palm to line himself up to your hole. He kept one hand on the inside of your thigh as he began to press himself inward slowly, the snap of his bulbous head entering you and pushing through your walls was the first act of confirming everything.

Confirming that this was it. That now you were connected and there was no turning back. That all the promises spoken were sealed.

You both kept your eyes pinned on one another as he bottomed out, balls tucked against your ass with a whimper from his mouth and a deep sigh of relief.

He slowly pulled back before inching his way back into the hilt and repeated his languid strokes as your wet pussy blossomed and opened wide for his girth until he was rocking down into you with a force that had your tits bouncing and harsh breaths punching from your lungs.

Harry’s strong abs clenched as his thighs flexed, working into you, exacting strokes deep into your cunt and skin colliding every time you felt the dip of his crown nudging into your tummy.

He sat back to his haunches, knees bent with the back of your thighs draped over the top of his. He watched as he sunk into you and pulled back to his tip, his shaft glistening and coated in you before he thrust back in until you were gasping and reaching for his arms to keep yourself grounded. To remind yourself of who’s cock was fucking you so good.

“Love this pussy, Y/n. You take me so well. So fucking juicy and plush,” he pounded into you, putting everything he had into it, muscles working and pushing him further and further as you bounced upward on the mattress every time he crashed into you.

“Hear that, baby?” Harry used a hand to squeeze at your tit, “Your bed squeaking, your pussy creamy and wet around me, those desperate whimpers from these pretty lips?” He pushed his hand up to your mouth, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip.

You moaned in response and nodded as you stitched your brows together in bliss.

“That’s right. That’s the sound of me fucking you and we’re gonna do it again and again and again. Yeah?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

You nodded, “Fuck! Yes, Harry!” Your words were punched from your lungs as he continued railing ito you, his hips rocking against yours.

Your whole being was lit up. From your racing mind to your tingling skin and toes, the bones that kept you solid, your pumping heart, and your pussy gripping onto Harry’s fat cock as he slid into you, back and forth, bumping through your inside walls into that hard-to-reach little dip that had you breathless.

Every stroke he gave you put you closer and closer to your second orgasm. The delicious emergence and unraveling of your end made you delirious.

When he leaned himself over you he thrust down harshly, pushing your thighs wider apart, the sound gushy and slick as he drove into you. You could feel his cock sliding through your guts and his pelvis grinding against your clit making you quiver.

“Oh my god…” you panted as you reached up for his shoulders where you could feel the taught muscle keeping himself up and aligned as he fucked into you, your back digging into the mattress underneath.

“Yeah? Feels good huh? Told you we fit together perfectly. Pussy deserves to be filled and stuffed every day. Want you to feel so good, baby…”

“It’s so fucking good,” your whimpered words were shaky and breathy.

“I know baby… So good… gonna give it to you every fucking day like this. Make love to you and treat you like a queen. Be so good to you…” his strained words were breathy as he was feeling the heat with you.

His lips pressed into yours and your brain short-circuited as you fell into that hazy, floaty space of ecstasy and need. Need for Harry and his body and his heart. Need for happiness with him. The need to feel happiness with someone you could trust.

When you sucked on his tongue and he rocked into you, keeping his hips smoothe against yours you began to whine and moan as your orgasm approached.

But then Harry stopped. He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you with that evil grin you’d seen before and you gasped at the loss. You had just been on the cusp of coming.

He quickly pulled out as his own chest was rising and falling rapidly, his cock swayed and you pushed yourself up to see what was happening before he grabbed your sides and rolled you over to your tummy.

“Harry!” You yelped at the sudden maneuver and felt his palm land harshly on your bum. And then again and again. You jumped and crooned out as he issued your ass a handful of spankings to each side and then heard him moan when he kneaded into the meat of your bottom as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You suddenly felt him pushing your legs apart and fitting himself between them as he forced his hard cock back into your wet pussy, his heavy tip pushing past your small opening and you gasped at the suddenness of it all.

You moaned at the relief of finally having him tucked back inside. He slid through you smoothly, his hands holding your ass cheeks apart as he worked himself in over and over. You had your face smushed into the blankets as you sighed.

His hips rocked against your ass and you could feel him swiveling himself in every time his balls pressed into your skin, grounding himself deep through your tummy. The sounds he was making had you grinning. It felt just as good for him. He needed your body for relief. You were happy to let him get whatever he needed from you.

Slow languid strokes of his long cock, splitting you open with every thrust felt so good. It reminded you of how big he really was. How bulky and long his cock was as it disappeared inside of you and nudged its way into your depths.

“Stick your fingers over your clit, Y/n. Go on baby.”

You gurgled a moan and lifted your hips slightly to allow your right hand access to your pussy. And it was more relief. The feel of it all coming together was perfection. His fat cock taking up every inch of your insides, his tip crashing through your guts, the weight of him behind you and fucking you into the mattress, and your fingers on your clit, slipping and pressing…

Harry gave himself a moment to bask in the view of his cock spreading your vagina apart. He dragged a thumb over the spot where he was fucking into you, feeling himself move in and out, watching your pussy wrapped around him, glistening wet until he felt his balls tightening and constricting and your walls clamping down over him.

He could see your hips moving faster as you ground over your hand to get to your orgasm but then he pulled at your hand, moving your fingers away from your clit and you felt his chest against your back and his lips against the shell of your ear as he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear.

It caught you off guard. The second denial of your orgasm. You angled your neck to try and turn toward him, “Harry, what?”

You felt him press his cock in hard, hips stilling against your ass, his lips pressed over your ear, “Put your fingers back on your clit but don’t move them til I say.”

In confusion, you slid your hand back to your core and he continued, “Good.”

He reared back and then thrust forward again, “Do you want to come, Y/n? Wanna come on my cock?”

You moaned a yes as you secretly slid a finger across your bud making you shiver.

“Then tell me you’re mine. Say you’re mine, Y/n, and I’ll let you come.”

You had no hesitation in telling him just that, “Harry I’m yours. I’m yours…”

“My girl. That’s right. Rub your pussy, baby. Get yourself off,” his breathy words were warm over your ear and neck as you began to slip your fingers back and forth to get you back to that spot that would have you tipping over the edge.

Then you felt Harry shift behind, his chest no longer pressed into your back as he started pounding into you, “Fucking come, baby. You’re mine now…”

You grinned in elation at his words and the way he sounded totally fucked out himself. Much like the way you were feeling. Like he was out of his mind with lust for you.

Every smack of his hips into your bum had you jolting up and you ground down into your hand, rolling your clit over whatever you could reach when you started to feel that melting, unraveling sensation. The electrical charge that made your pussy quiver and your back arch and your vision go white.

“There it is! Fuck!�� Harry’s thrusts were harsh but every stroke felt like a sparking and exhilarating charge going through your body. His tip plunged into your cervix and fingers gripped your bottom harshly as you heard him choke out a loud moan.

“Gonna fill you fill you up baby… fuck… stuff you with my come…”

You could hardly hear your bed creaking and clanking as your ears began to ring and you gushed around Harry, your walls spasming and constricting around him tightly.

He moved into you, gliding in and out until finally his balls squeezed and pumped sperm through his cock directly into your wet hole. He stilled his hips as he whimpered a groan, throwing his neck back with his mouth dropped open, his cock throbbing inside of you, coating your walls with his come.

It seemed to last forever. He moaned and twitched, his body connected and pressed into yours as he drained every bit of himself into you. He pressed inward further, stuffing your pussy with his come, making sure every bit of it seeped through your cunt and soaked your insides.

He hadn’t had sex in 9 months. Jerking himself off didn’t do it like the real thing and when it was with you it was even better. The best. He hadn’t come so hard ever in his life he was certain as his body flushed in heat and his heart thudded wildly in his chest when he crumpled over your back, tucking his arms around you and kissing your neck softly.

You moaned quietly at the feel of him on your back. The post-orgasm glow was never so good before. It felt like you were in a different realm of existence, floating and glowing in bliss.

“You’re mine, Y/n?” He wanted reassurance. Which was understandable after the way you handled things the first time around. But this time was going to be different. You two were starting over again. This time with a better understanding of what the other needed, with a better understanding of yourself and what each of you needed to do to be a good partner. Things were different this time.

Harry pushed himself up and looked down at his sensitive cock still inside of you. He drew himself back and watched as his creamy come leaked from your hole and he pressed himself back inside. You felt him pumping himself in and out shallowly and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were glued to your cunt where he was fucking his come back inside of you. A natural urge he couldn’t deny.

When his eyes found yours and he finally pulled himself out, he helped you roll to your side as he laid next to you, his hand on your cheek and you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m yours, Harry. I was back then too I just didn’t realize it. Couldn’t admit it. But I’m yours.”

You both smiled at one another. His eyes were bright and clear and you could trust him. You knew you could. He made you feel so comfortable about yourself. Made you feel like you could make him happy and that he’d want to stick around for you. That he would make you happy in return.

He took your hand and pressed it harder over his chest, “I’m yours too. I was since the day I first met you. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful, Y/n. And I’m not letting go of you again.”

You grinned and pushed yourself up to his mouth to kiss him. You felt his palm slide down your side and to your bum, as he squeezed you, causing a laugh to puff out from your lips against his.

“Sorry, I love your ass. Feels so good in my hands. Just wanna bite it and stuff my face against it. Can’t help it.”

You rolled your eyes at him still grinning but when he swatted at your bottom your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. When I tell you I love your ass, I fucking mean it.” He gave you another good squeeze to emphasize his words.

So you slid your hand down to his nipple and squeezed at it, “And I love your nipples and these tits,” you laughed.

Harry’s wide grin and dimples were suddenly hidden when he nuzzled his face into your neck and you heard him inhale deeply.

The afterglow with him was something out of a romance novel. It was beautiful and precious. Almost too good to be true.

The sound of a cellphone ringing had both you and Harry lifted out of the sweet moment. He sat up, “It’s me.”

He hopped out of your bed and you watched as he crouched down to his pants where his phone was in his back pocket. His strong back flexing as he pulled it out and then stood up to answer the call.

“Hello?”

You frowned as you watched him disappear into your hallway, still nude. Turning to look at the clock on your side table you noted that it was paste 10 pm. You wondered who was calling at the late hour. Couldn’t have been work. What could be so important that he had to leave your side after he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life?

“I’ll be there! I’m booking a flight as soon as I get off the phone. Yes..”

You could hear him pacing and talking. You picked up most of what he said as you sat silently on your bed waiting for him to return and explain himself.

“I missed you too. I can’t wait to finally meet her. I know. Me too.”

You slid off your bed and pulled a t-shirt from your drawer to put it over your body as he ended the call with an I love you.

Harry walked back into your room with a huge grin, “My sister just had her baby!”

You smiled at him widely as he took three long-legged steps toward you, his cock swaying as he was still completely naked before he wrapped you in a tight hug, “Today is like the best day I’ve ever had. First you,” he kissed your cheek, “Now my sister...”

You laughed when he twirled around with you and then he let go, a sudden look of realization on his face, “Come with me to London. I want everyone to meet you!”

You blinked your eyes and stuttered your words, “Are you serious?”

He grabbed your hands, “Dead serious. Come with me. It’s not like you have to ask off for work. We can go for a couple of weeks. God, it’d be so fun, Y/n. Me and you… My mom’s going to love you.”

Your head was spinning from everything that had happened that day. From the moment Harry walked into that room at the gallery to now having him standing naked in your bedroom asking you to take a trip with him to see his family and his sister’s new baby. But, spinning or not, there was no part of you that would turn down the offer.

“That sounds amazing. I’d love to, Harry.”

He pulled you in for another hug and pressed his face into your neck, “This is going to be so good, Y/n.”

You laughed as he squeezed you tight and then his hands cupped your cheeks, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll book our flights. Yeah?”

You nodded as your cheeks burned hot when he pressed his mouth to yours again.

It was a funny thing to you. That the first time you had sex with Harry the post-orgasm afterglow was interrupted by a phone call. And this time another phone call had broken the moment too. Except things were not the same as they were then. Now you knew who Harry was. You trusted him and this time everything was going to be different.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this!! xoxo

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @theastrologie @sassamanda77 @princessaxoxo @eiffelmezarry @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @icumforbaldrry @harrrrystylesslut @straightontilmornin @elidoho @bananabk9756 @gotdrxnkonu

376 notes · View notes

carsthatnevermadeitetc · 20 days

Text

Nissan Silvia spec-R, 1999. The S15 series Silvia was Nissan's last compact rear wheel drive coupé. It was sold internationally as the 200SX. Production of the Silvia with Nissan's program to reduce its myriad of platforms. Producing of Nissan's S platform ended in August 2002, with the S15-series Silvia being the final variant.

#Nissan #Nissan Silvia #Nissan Silvia S15 #Nissan Silvia spec-R #last of the line #rear wheel drive #sports coupé #compact coupé #1999 #Nissan S-platform #end of the line

187 notes · View notes

its-actually-minicika · 1 year

Note

Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be all yours shortly.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their hands on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

1K notes · View notes

moonlightazriel · 2 months

Text

Prologue /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N Blackbeak keep dreaming about the same male for decade’s now, she wonders what this all could mean.

Word Count: 751

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes: Welcome to my new series, i hope you guys enjoy it just as much as i do. I was so excited to share this with you all.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

The sound of leathery wings sounded above her head, she looked up expecting to see the black wyvern hovering over her head. She blinked a couple of times, landing in front of her was the male, he had onyx hair, brown skin and the prettiest hazel eyes she had ever seen. His sharp jaw and plush lips were forming a smile, he was smiling at her.

She tried to touch his face, retrieving her hand quickly before her iron claws could do any damage to his smooth skin. The male shook his head, marred fingers grasping her wrist. He lifted her hand, pink warm lips ghosting over her cold skin, a kiss of midnight on the back of her hand.

She closed her eyes, feeling warmth spread across her chest, that thing skipping a few beats as he pulled her closer by the waist, still holding her hand. She waited for the kiss, feeling his breath fanning over her face, he smelled like night chilled mist and cedar. The scent wrapping itself around her and calming her wild heart.

“You have plagued my dreams for centuries.” She spoke, her voice hoarse like she had been silent for so very long. “Will I ever see you one day?” Her eyes watered.

The same dream, the same male, but she never found him, and she had spent so long looking for him. She knew he was different from her lovers, from anyone she had ever met. She knew she had to find him, see him at least once, to bring peace to her tortured mind.

With all the gentleness in the world, he cradled her face in between his hands, the rough skin brushing against the sides of her jaw. Those beautiful hazel eyes, tinted with specs of gold looked into hers, like they could see the fractured soul underneath the brave facade she tried so hard to keep together.

“Don’t wrap your pretty head around it.” His lips touched her forehead, and she leaned into that feeling, the only time she actually had peace was in the arms of the stranger that walked on her dreams. “You won’t have to wait much longer, but please..” She watched as worry laced his features.

She wanted to soothe the furrow of his eyebrows, with a cold hand, she brushed the tip of her finger against his cheek, slowly going upwards until she traced his eyebrows, the left one and then the right one.

“Whatever you want to say, do not worry, please.” She begged and the male nodded.

“Do not be hurt if I don't remember you, I'm not even sure you will remember me.” He chuckled, the sound lighting something within her heart.

“Like I could ever forget you.” She traced his lips.

“The Mother works in mysterious ways, all I know is that our time is coming soon.” He warned and her heart filled with hope, would she finally be able to feel his arms around her waist and his hard chest against her for real? No more play pretend, just reality.

“I can’t wait to meet you.” She allowed herself to feel that love, slowly taking roots in her heart, taking her by surprise.

“Soon, my love, soon.” He promised, his lips capturing hers in a delicate kiss.

She woke up, sweat coated her forehead and her heart hammered against her ribcage knocking the air out of her lungs. She felt dizzy, her fingers touching her tingly lips. The early rays of sunshine invading her room, forcing her to shut her eyes tightly together, the image of him burning bright as she did so.

Y/N got up, her body protesting but she had things to tend to. She was able to relax under the scalding water of her bath, but the dark circles still marked her eyes, giving her a tired aspect. She inspected the bumpy scar on the left side of her face, two smaller ones marred her eyebrow, missing the eye for an inch, and the biggest one was from the beginning of her hairline to her cheek, irregular skin patched together forming that monstrosity on her once beautiful face.

But just like her, the male also had his scars, and he never seemed disgusted by hers, he always looked at her with love and admiration, she was sure that when they found each other for the first time, he wouldn’t judge her. Nothing would be different between them, her heart just wondered when that meeting would happen.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2

@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle

@glitterypirateduck @zeroangelo13 @sekiro1310

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #worlds apart fanfic

260 notes · View notes

epicbuddieficrecs · 1 month

Text

Weekly Recap | April 1st-7th 2024

MERRY WEEWOO EPISODE DAY!!! I had a fucking terrible stream so I feel like I missed like 90% of buddie's scenes.

No thoughts, head empty, so happy to FINALLY be done with this long ass recap 😆 my ao3 history is very much still fucked. Oh well. Also gonna have to make a separate post for the podfics cause the rec was getting too long, tumblr couldn't handle it 😂

There's a couple of new people in here and maybe some people who have changed URLs, so if you know someone who's not tagged, please tag them in the comments!

Love your tags, comments, reblogs, everything! <3 My ao3 inbox is being SUBMERGED with fics, it's the best problem to have 😂

Complete

I can finally breathe by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (S7E4 Coda, BuckTommy | <1K | General); Buck's oh moment when Tommy kisses him.

and with each one, i'm a little more free series by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S7E4, Coming Out):

oh, bi the way (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Maddie. whenever you're ready (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby. welcome to the club (<1K | General): Buck comes out to Hen.

rebirth by renecdote/ @renecdote (S7E4 Coda | <1K | General): “Bisexual,” he says aloud, just to hear himself say it, to taste the way it feels on his tongue not just as a word but as an identity. It feels like an exhalation, trembling at the edges but not just with fear, or excitement, but with relief. Buck knows what it is like to be reborn, but he has never had a kiss make him feel like this before.

whenever you're ready by honestlydarkprincess (Post S7E4 Spec, Coming Out | <1K | General): Buck comes out to Bobby.

I won't tell no lie by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Post S7E4 Spec, Tommy POV | 1K | Teen): Tommy can't exactly say he's surprised when he opens his door on a Sunday morning to see Hen Wilson standing there. He just wishes he'd thought to put on a cup first because he has a feeling he's about to get kicked in the nuts.

An End Has a Start by eirabach/ @eirabach (S7E4 Coda, Tommy POV, Tommy&Lucy | 1K | Teen): Tommy is one minute late. Hell of a minute, though.

tell me that i'm all you want (even when i break your heart) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (S7E4 Coda | 1K | General): “What’s going on?” “You tell me,” Eddie says, gently. “Buck mentioned you were being a little…odd.” To his surprise, Chris scowls. “I bet he did,” Chris mumbles, scoffing, half-under his breath. Eddie stares at him, taken aback. “Chris? What does that—” “I want you to tell him to leave.” or; buck, christopher and eddie in the aftermath of 7x04.

Sleepy Call by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie, Fluff | 1K | General): OR: Eddie takes an early morning call.

to loosen his grip by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (S7E4 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. Speculation for 7x04: Buck, Bothered and Bewildered.

babbling brook to nowhere by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (S7E5 Spec | 1K | Teen): Eddie has not stopped talking since they left the restaurant. He thinks that he kind of blacked out during the actual dinner, because he’s not really sure what actually was discussed or how they even ended up sitting next to Buck and Tommy. But as soon as they got back into the truck, it was like the dam breaking loose. “I mean, it’s so great,” Eddie says once they’re back in his bedroom, as he takes his shirt off in the closet. He’s not even paying attention as Marisol perches on the edge of his bed. “They’re two of my friends, it’s awesome.” He’s happy for Buck, because Buck deserves to be with someone who gets him and will love him like he deserves. He just . . . “Is Tommy too tall for him?” Eddie asks. “Like, they’re the same height.”

my heart is working overtime by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (S7E4 Coda | 1K | Teen): He reaches for his phone again, then freezes halfway through his contacts when he realises he can’t call anyone to talk through this. Maddie would kill him for telling her something like this over the phone. For—coming out, he supposes, trying the words on for size. That’s something he does now. As— He hadn’t really stopped to consider it until now. Bisexual, he thinks, experimental, and it settles somewhere deep inside of him, like there’s been a space waiting for it all along.

“Pops, I’m bisexual.” “Hi bisexual, I’m Pops.” by Maximoff_Wanda (Post-S7E4, Coming Out | 1,4K | Not Rated): Or: Buck comes out to Bobby.

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it by wafflesofdoom/ @capseycartwright (Post S7E4 | 1,6K | Not Rated): after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.

pythagoras made some points by crimsonclad (S7E4, BuckTommy | 1,6K | Not Rated): Look for the helpers! Sometimes they are all trying very hard to help each other be gay in the correct configurations and doing their best, mostly. Tommy takes Eddie to Urgent Care, takes him home, and carries a message elsewhere in the city of Los Angeles.

Buck's Boyfriends by Tizniz (Buck/Tommy/Eddie | 1,7K | Teen): He’s too drunk to figure out the logistics right now. “I think I’ve been dating both of you.” OR: The one where Buck realizes he's dating Tommy and Eddie.

smile at me like you smile at him by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec, Getting Together | 1,8K | Teen): Buck hadn’t planned on doing anything to show his displeasure at the sudden friendship between Eddie and Tommy, despite the fact that it sent hot, furious jealousy coursing through his veins. Really, he hadn’t. It’s just…well, he was just going for the ball during their basketball game…unfortunately Eddie happened to get pushed out of the way in order for Buck to get said ball.

only need the light when it's burning low by fallingthorns (Post-S7E4 | 2K | Teen): Buck blinks and realizes that he could love Tommy, if he didn't already love Eddie.

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by ummrys (S7E4 Spec | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck gets a little (a lot) jealous of Eddie's blossoming friendship with Tommy Kinard, and makes some bad decisions about it.

detours by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (Post-S7E4, 2K | Teen): “Take a detour,” he says, instead. “There’s construction on Sunset.” “Maybe one of these days there won’t be,” Buck says, smiles, and takes his leave. - Eddie and Buck have a talk. They somehow say everything and nothing at all.

Every Night I Come to You by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (S5, Love Confessions | 2K | General): Eddie has another sleepless night, but Buck is there. He'll always be there.

Family Feud: First Responders by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Secret Relationship | 3K | General): The FireFam go on Family Feud.

Right In Front of Me by Princessfbi (S7E5 Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | General): Tommy’s brows knitted together as his mouth turned down with worry. “Evan,” he said and Buck wanted to hear him call his name so many more times. “What happened? Did someone choke you?” “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Buck said, clearing his throat again when his voice gave an embarrassing squeak.

inescapable (i’m not even gonna try) by buddiebuddie/ @buddie-buddie (BuckTommy, PWP, Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): From that first press of Tommy’s lips against his— the moment when the pieces slid into place and something bloomed in Buck’s chest and hummed in his veins— he felt good, and grounded, and settled in a way he never had before. It’s been a few weeks, and the newness has worn off but the excitement hasn’t. The hunger hasn’t.

I would be lying if I said I'm not dying to worship you by Daughter_of_Scotland (Post-S7E4 | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Tommy have their first date. This is how it ends. (It ends really, REALLY well)

somethin' tells me you know why i lie by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Madney Wedding Spec, BuckTommy | 3K | Teen): OR: buck brings tommy to the madney wedding. eddie is absolutely, definitively not jealous.

Never Saw It Coming...Or Did He? by Tizniz (PWP, Daddy/Mommy Kink | 3K | Explicit): Unable to deny his boyfriend anything, Eddie does. And his jaw promptly falls to the floor. Because Buck is standing there with that goddamn basketball under his shirt again. The clothing is stretched tightly over the round of what Eddie’s mind pretends is Buck’s belly. Pregnant belly. OR: The one where Eddie is 'Daddy' and Buck is 'Mommy'

sunbeam that hits at three to noon by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Madney Wedding, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): or, having multiple wedding reservations under the same name was an accident waiting to happen and buck’s just trying not to jumpscare his best friend with the rather intense bridal suite decor in their very platonically shared hotel room

as lucky as us by hammersmiths/ @bucktommys (S7E4, Ravi POV | 3K | General): One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier.

soothe the ache in me by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7E4 Spec | 3K | Teen): Or, the one where Buck gets a headache while trying to take care of Eddie and Chris after Eddie's injury.

i'm a fine baby mama (but you knew that though) by colonoscopys (S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Look—Buck’s not jealous, per say. He’s just a little confused as to how you can spend the past five years being best friends with someone, and then find someone new to replace him in the span of a couple of playdates.

You’re too Sweet For Me by Garden_Haunter (Buck Coming Out, Post S7E4 | 4K | Teen): Tommy kisses Buck, and it tastes like freedom. (Or: Buck comes out to different members of his family.)

Nightcap by Inell (S7E5 Spec, PWP | 4K | Explicit): After their first date goes a bit astray, Buck invites Tommy to his loft for a nightcap.

some things fall when they're meant to fall by sibylsleaves/ @sibylsleaves (S7E5 Spec | 4K | Teen): or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie has a realization and breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order.

before you painted all my nights by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Canon Divergent, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): In hindsight, maybe jerking off to a LAFD Calendar when Eddie was well on his way to become a firefighter himself… might not have been the best idea. He never really thought about the possibility of actually crossing paths with the person that's been starring every wildest dream and filthy fantasy of his.

’til storm breaks loose by markofalover/ @markofalover (S7E4 Spec | 6K | Explicit): He squeezes Buck’s bare, sun warmed skin before he drops the contact, and strolls over to where Chim and Tommy are waiting. If he stands a little too close to his teammate, well. He’ll never admit it. Buck comes back into his line of vision, already back to looking like he’s a second away from stomping off the court. Eddie’s giddy with it. …or, how an elbow to the face changes everything.

the art of making love. by dylaesthetics (Rommates, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): OR Buck’s loft gets flooded, making him temporarily move in with Eddie, who’s out and about dating guys now, apparently, and Buck tries to figure out why the hell the thought makes him sick.

no more mistakes, no more empty starts. by dylaesthetics (S7E5 Spec, Feelings Realization | 7K | Teen): Throughout his life, Buck has felt that something’s been missing. Some integral part of who he is, outside firefighting, outside the family he has built for himself, outside the trauma that keeps on piling up and overburdening his shelves. He doesn’t expect to find it in the dimness of his loft’s kitchen one Tuesday evening, the taste of a man still on his lips and his cologne lingering in the air, sweet and honest and real.

ain't no lie (bi bi bi) by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (S7E4 Spec, Eddie/Tommy | 8K | Explicit): Eddie fools around with Tommy, Buck is jealous, Tommy's just trying to have a good time

skin/heat/hair in your mouth by fleetinghearts (Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): or, eddie’s bad at camping, buck’s trying to make sure he doesn’t get hypothermia, and naked huddling for warmth is only like the third gayest thing happening in the great outdoors

now our love lives in the radio by heartbeatdiaz / @loserdiaz (University AU | 9K | Explicit): buck is the host of a college radio show and eddie has a big fat crush on him, what else can i say? featuring cinderella references and a bunch of himbos from buck's football team.

teach me how to dance with you by goodboybuck (prettyboybuckley)/ @prettyboybuckley (BuckTommy, PWP | 9K | Explicit): OR: Buck explores the wonders of gay sex (slowly, with a really patient, sweet Tommy guiding the way and while having a lot of fun)

the mouth is the thing that craves by Underhung_Aura (Established Buddie, PWP | 11K | Explicit): eddie loves buck and he really love buck's cock

when i think about you (i touch myself) by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (PWP, Getting Together | 12K | Explicit): Or: the one where Eddie stumbles across Buck's old amateur porn, prompting a series of belated realizations on both their parts.

honey, when you call my name by HungryHungryHippo/ @hippolotamus (Post S5E11 | 12K |Explicit): Eddie witnesses the Buck/Lucy kiss, has himself a little panic, and decides to do something about it when Buck does his Buck thing and won't stop pushing Eddie's buttons

🔥 of men and of angels by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Eddie Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 13K | Teen): Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it?

🔥 what humans do by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Getting Together, PWP | 18K | Explicit): "…and the thought that she had just escaped death by such a narrow margin made me realize the intensity of my feelings toward her.” Eddie swallows. “‘What’s the matter?’ I couldn’t tell her, so I kissed her instead,” Buck goes on, and since Eddie’s eyes are focused on the page, they drift ahead a little bit, and the next few lines have him swallowing once again, taking his hand back to brace himself against the mattress as he slowly starts to push himself up to sit. “Kissing is what humans do when words have reached a place they can’t escape from. It is a switch to another language. The kiss was an act of defiance, maybe of war. You can’t touch us, is what the kiss said. ‘I love you,’ I told her, and as I smelled her skin, I knew I had never wanted anyone or anything more than I wanted her…” Buck trails off when Eddie reaches for the book, gently luring it out of his grasp.

WIP

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

Both Bermuda and Golden (Lost but Doing Just Fine) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Threesome, BuckTommyEddie | 4/6 | 20K | Explicit): In which everyone has two hands and two holes and is keeping their options fluid. (Or: a collection of threesome fics.)

Fifteen First Kisses by tinygiantsam/ @watchyourbuck (Getting Together | 2/15 | 3K | Mature): Why would you have only one first kiss when you could have fifteen This is a collection of 15 different first kisses between Buck and Eddie.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #bucktommy

138 notes · View notes

whatareyousearchingfordean · 10 months

Text

Grandpa Ackles

Summary: Y/n was enjoying her husband’s new style post Supernatural, that is until a certain pair of glasses come onto the scene. How will Jensen feel about her teasing?

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K+

Warnings: Language, age gap (implied), unprotected sex (don’t be silly..)

Author’s Note: This baby was born from a little razzing session I had with @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons regarding those glasses Jensen wore. It quickly turned into this mess that I forgot about in my drafts. I hope you enjoy it. As always I would love to hear your feedback xoxo Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

The love and support of the Supernatural fandom had been the spark that helped Jensen to come out of his shell. From singing at conventions to releasing his album and everything in between. He was far more at ease now than he had been back in 2005. But the truth was she hadn’t seen him blossom more than since the series finally wrapped. From getting to grow out his hair and the relentless press junket for The Boys, he’s been getting to show off his creativity and style like never before. Most of the time she was behind him all the way, but today’s choice had her questioning the man she had married.

They were currently on set with Entertainment Weekly doing yet another interview. Y/n had followed her husband across Europe and now Los Angeles to support him in his recent endeavor. Now she found herself standing behind the cluster of monitors that showed each camera angle. Naturally, she was focused on Jensen, but not for the reason one would expect.

It was like a train wreck, something she couldn’t look away from no matter how hard she tried. Her husband had first slipped the blue-tinted glasses onto his perfect face when they were about to walk out of the dressing room. At first, she had thought they were sunglasses and she was rightfully confused about him putting them on at that moment, but he walked right onto the set with them still in place and that’s when it hit her. They were a statement piece for his outfit.

God, she loved her husband but she was seriously questioning his choices. The black-framed glasses were ever so slightly to big for his face. The lens appeared prescription strength in the way that they distorted his eyes to appear larger than reality. Sure, he wore reading glasses periodically at home but never had they made it into any sort of interview or red carpet before. Though he wouldn’t admit it to her, she knew it made him self-conscious about his age, especially considering the difference between them. So she would tell him how much she loved them, which wasn’t even the tiniest bit of a lie. Those glasses framed his face well and made him look refined. These on the other hand, well, as much as she tried to love them, it simply wasn’t happening.

The interview lasted roughly an hour before they were back in his dressing room to pack up their things. Once he had cleared out the dressing room they hopped into a car to take them back to their hotel. Y/n waited with bated breath for him to remove the glasses, but he never so much as acknowledged them. Jensen conversed politely with her until they made it back to their suite. She plopped down onto the edge of the bed, watching him as he began to unpack his bag from the day.

“Are you going to tell me why you keep looking at me like that?” He questioned finally, his one eyebrow quirking at her.

“I-” Y/n chewed on the corner of her lip while she tried to find the words. “What is with the glasses?”

“What do you mean?” Jensen crossed his eyes, playfully attempting to look at the specs without taking them off.

“Did you lose a bet…” her words trailed off, earning her a frown from her husband.

“You don’t like my glasses.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t… not like them,” she tried with a smile but her husband knew her better than that. Jensen crossed his arms with a warning look, asking her to tell the truth. “Okay fine, they look like a bad 70’s accessory. I’m sorry, baby, but they are not it.”

“These are Gucci,” he defended. Y/n hid her mouth behind her fingers, stifling a smile at his knee-jerk reaction to her opinion.

“I know this, and I love you, but just because you are playing, as you call him, a grandpa, doesn’t mean you need to dress like one.” Y/n made air quotes with her fingers as she talked. She knew she was digging herself a hole but damn it if she couldn’t stop talking.

“Whatever, I need to change,” he scoffed as he began undoing the buttons on his shirt. The blatant roll of his eyes told her he was over this conversation but that didn’t stop what slipped out next.

Y/n cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered, “Start with the glasses.”

Jensen froze, his eyes narrowing at his wife. She smiled at him, her tongue peeking out between her teeth. Before she could blink he darted towards her, his arms encompassing her as he tackled her into the bed. A shriek left her mouth as the couple barreled into the plush furniture, quickly dissolving into giggles as he pinned her to the mattress.

“Careful, Jay, don’t need you breaking a hip.” Her words came out between snickers. She was quick to realize how worked up she had gotten him.

“Funny, you weren’t saying that two days ago,” Jensen encompassed her with his form, one hand on either side of where her head lay.

“Guess that was before I realized how close you might be to needing help from a little blue pill…” She let the words hang in the air, watching her husband’s jaw drop.

“You gonna regret that,” he mumbled, dropping his voice as he cocked his head.

“Promise?” Y/n bit her lip, a final challenge before Jensen dove in, capturing her lips with his own. Immediately she melted into the comforter, her hands moving to finish his job of undoing his top. Her work was distracted as the actor trailed his pillow-soft lips down her jaw and neck, using his tongue to suck the tender flesh into his mouth. A moan fell from her lips as he nipped her collarbone, the action egging him on. When she finally popped the last button, she hurriedly pushed the thin fabric from his shoulders.

Jensen sat back on his legs, working open his belt and jeans as Y/n lifted her dress over her head. He let out a low whistle, letting his eyes roam down the expanse of her body, now just in a pair of panties.

“I’m waiting, Grandpa,” she smirked, raising her arms above her head to emphasize her breasts for him.

“Damnit woman,” he grunted, now in a hurry to rid them both of their offending bottoms. Once they were both exposed to the other, Jensen leaned back over her, again capturing her lips with his own in a heated kiss. He sucked her lower lip between his teeth as his hands ran down her curves. The action set her nerves aflame, warmth amalgamating low in her belly.

In a second, his warmth was gone, and his large hands were flipping her onto her stomach. She rose to her hands and knees without a second thought, knowing that Jensen was not going to do her the courtesy of prepping her for him. The woman got no warning before her husband entered her from behind, his cock stretching her in every delicious and agonizing way. Her chin dropped to her chest as he set a grievously slow pace where she could feel every inch of him.

“Fuck, Jay. Faster, please?” The words were a breathy plea on her lips.

“What was that, baby?”

“I need more,” she reiterated. Jensen ran his fingers through her hair before gently tugging on the strands, pulling her frame up and flush against his own. His arms wrapped around her torso, the new muscles she loved so much dwarfing her body as he drove into her, faster with every thrust. His grunts were low, but deafening from their proximity to her. The sound was like music to her ears, each one helping to push her closer to the edge of oblivion.

“Look at you, so wrecked from taking me like a good girl,” Jensen breathed out, his praises earning a whimper from his lover. “Do you think you deserve to come?”

“Oh, fuck.” It was the only thing her brain could formulate at the moment. She knew this was a torture of her own creation. Y/n had pushed him to prove himself, knowing full well what would come of it, and damn it if she wasn’t regretting that now. The thing was he absolutely would deny her if she didn’t grovel. And it wouldn’t be the first time either.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Nobody can fuck me like you. My body is yours.” It was the truth and had been since that first night together so many years ago. He had thoroughly ruined her for anyone else and still to this day proves that he knows her body better than herself. “I can’t come without you.”

“It’s a start,” he murmured, his game punctuated with every thrust of his hips. His left hand traveled up to her throat, applying light pressure just above her collarbone.

“Please.” She was nowhere near above begging him for release.

“Since you asked nicely,” Jensen finally relented, using his opposite hand to press against her clit. The combination of sensations sent her over the cliff like a switch had been flipped. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the overwhelming sensations he continued to deliver until he too finished, rutting against her as he spilled himself inside her.

His grip against her loosened and he let her back against the hotel comforter, taking care to keep her steady on her trembling legs. Y/n rolled over onto her back, staring blankly at the ceiling as her breathing evened out. Her husband joined her, resting his head against her stomach. Mindlessly her fingers came down to run through his long blonde locks.

“Still think I need the blue pill?” He asked and she could feel him smile against her abdomen.

“Fuck you,” she huffed out a laugh.

“I think you just did.”

“Ugh, fine, you win this one, Ackles,” Y/n playfully pushed her husband from her side. “But next, time don’t expect me to cave so easily.”

“Oh?” One of his eyebrows shot up on his forehead and immediately she regretted her words. The actor was on her before she had a chance to blink, ready to prove himself as many times as it would take.

Forevers: @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @emoryhemsworth @ever-mischief @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maggiegirl17 @maliburenee @muhahaha303 @mrsjenniferwinchester @sexyvixen7 @spnwoman @suckitands33 @stoneyggirl22 @supernatural3002 @traceyaudette @xlynnbbyx

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fic #spn rpf #supernatural rpf #rpf #real person fiction #supernatural

515 notes · View notes

mattzerella-sticks · 1 year

Text

#spn #spnwin #spnwin spec #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #cas is madoka to dean's homura #rewatching this movie after watching the winchesters and 'studying' with a few peopolol i dont know if im perceiving or seeing things #but there are THINGS #one of them being that rebellion feels to me what dean is going through rn as we watch his parents love story #the winchesters #like this is what's happening with dean rn #i mean madoka in the og series def was cas coded especially that final ep #and the amount of times they said 'truth' and 'despair' i was jumping in my seat

7 notes · View notes

staytinyville · 6 months

Text

Stay Alive (30)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none (There will be no update next chapter. Read bottom note.)

A/N NOT BETA. YOU GUYS! Y'all my bad for missing Thursday's update! I live in the US so it was Thanksgiving for us and then the weekend was full of things. So I hope you can enjoy this update!

The day was coming to an end. You had done all your normal duties, tending to Jungkook and Namjoon as well as whatever else the other nurses would have you do. Now, you were waiting in Taehyung’s room with all the other boys.

There was an anxious buzzing going around the room–both negative and positive. There was an anticipating feeling going through all of them. You were ready to get them far away from everything. Ready to get them to their families they had not seen in a decade.

“You ready?” Namjoon asked you, placing a soothing hand on your arm.

“This is it.” You looked up at him, a small smile on your face. “I'm not backing out now.”

You looked at each of the boys, taking note of their facial expressions.

Yoongi looked calm but you could see the sparkle in his eyes over finally going outside. Jungkook was bouncing his leg in anticipation. Jin kept cracking his fingers, even after they stopped making noises. Hoseok was grinning widely, close to tears it seemed. Jimin was holding onto Taehyung’s hand, his thumb rubbing over the boy’s skin. Taehyung himself had tears welling up in his eyes, his nose red as he sniffled.

“You okay, Taehyung?” You asked softly, walking up to the boy.

“I'm going to get to see the sun again.” His broken whisper made your eyes fill with tears. “I won't mess this up.” He looked behind you, nodding his head at Namjoon.

“You got this.” Namjoon smiled at the boy, patting his shoulders.

“I believe in you.” Jimin whispered to his friend, squeezing his hand for a moment before stepping back.

Namjoon gave your head a kiss before getting into line with the rest of the boys. You moved to stand next to Taehyung, giving him a bright smile. With a nod from Namjoon, the boy raised his hands moving his fingers around just like Hobi does when dealing with magic.

You quickly turned around when your head began to twist from watching Taehyung’s light purple mist. As you waited for him to tell you everything was done, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. You weren’t exactly a theater kid, but you had been telling yourself for days not to panic when telling your co-workers bye. Try your best to act natural–nothing to warrant attention.

“I did it!” Taehyung exclaimed, turning you around.

You furrowed your eyebrows when you could hardly make out the animals Taehyung had turned the boys into. You could only make out the small specs on the floor. Leaning closer, your eyes widened as you took in the small creatures.

“Poison dart frogs?” You spoke up, looking back to Taehyung.

“Don't worry.” The boy grinned. “They aren't poisonous.”

“I would hope so.” You laughed, holding your hand out to pick all 6 of them up. “They are so cute.” You took in each of their patterns. While their black spots were different, they were all the same shade of light purple.

“Purple?” You questioned Taehyung.

“It's the color of my magic.” He told you.

“Adorable.” You smiled, standing back up. “Well, sorry but into the pocket you go.”You spoke to the boys in your hands, moving them lightly into your scrub’s pocket. When you saw them all get comfy, you turned up to Taehyung.

“Are you ready?” You asked. When you hear his sniffle, you quickly look up at him, seeing tears stream down his cheeks.

“Don't cry!” You gasped out, moving to wipe his tears away. “I'll get you all out of this.” You whispered to him.

“I know I'm just so happy.” He cried out, trying to give you a smile.

“Let's get going then.” You pulled him down to give him a chaste kiss.

When he gave you that boxy grin you loved so much, you took a step back, allowing him room to perform his magic. With closed eyes you waited for a few moments until you heard the smallest of croaks. Opening your eyes, you smiled at the small frog, leaning down to pick him up.

With one last coo, you placed him into your pocket along with the others. Checking to make sure there was nothing missing you took a deep breath before gathering your stuff and making your way back up to your office.

You tried to act as normal as possible, keeping your eyes on your things and trying to look tired. When you got to your desk, you noticed most of the other nurses had already left, two others picking up their things to leave as well. You glanced around for just a few seconds, quickly picking up your purse and pretending to place things inside.

You had made sure to clean it out for the moment, knowing you couldn’t just keep the boys in your pockets the whole time. So you stuck your hand into your scrubs, counting all 7 frogs before sticking your hand into your purse to allow them more room. Getting the last of your things together, you swung your bag around your shoulder before moving to leave the building.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)!” A nurse who worked in the main clinic called after you.

“Goodnight!” You smiled back, waving as you left.

When you made it to your car, with one last look around you turned it on and began your journey back home. While on the road, the anxious feeling did not leave your body. You kept looking behind you making sure no one was following. Not that it really mattered, if they wanted the company could easily look up your address. But you wouldn’t be home for a while.

The moment you made it to your apartment, glancing each way, you almost tripped going up the stairs from how fast you were going. Unlocking your door, you let out a breath leaning against the wall as you were finally able to calm down some. Carefully putting your bag down, you tipped it over so that the boys could carefully hop out on their own.

Taehyung was the first to turn to normal, followed by the rest of the boys. Each of their eyes went wide as they took in something that was not part of the facility for the first time.

“I'm so sorry for keeping you guys in there for so long!” You cried, hugging Jimin close.

“I was almost squashed by a quarter.” Jin told you.

The boys began to laugh about their trip, explaining how things were when they had been frogs. You almost began to cry at how excited they seemed, eyes glittering at each trinket you had in your home. They seemed skeptical about certain things but still looked immensely curious.

It was almost comical to see all seven of them packed in your one bedroom apartment. But it wasn’t going to be for long, you all had to get a move on to avoid being detected.

“Let me go get my things and then we can head out to my grandpas! Feel free to explore.” You beamed at them.

Since they all seemed too busy taking in their surroundings, you took the liberty of going to your room to pick up your things. As they all looked through your things–respectfully–Jungkook was the first to move to the balcony doors. His eyes began to tear as he reached out to move the curtain to the side. As the natural light reflected into the living room, he sniffled as a smile overtook his face.

“What is it, Kookie?” Hoseok asked, moving to check on the boy who began to cry.

“It's the moon.” He had closed his eyes as he took in the moonlight. “I haven't seen it in years.”

All of the boys turned around, walking closer to watch the crescent moon shine brightly. “It's beautiful.” Jimin spoke softly.

“My wolf is happy.” Jungkook told them, closing his eyes again.

“We all are.” Namjoon placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “We're finally going home.” He looked at all of his coven brothers.

“All set!” You spoke up, coming out of your bedroom with some bags. “I asked my neighbor if I could borrow their minivan.” You told them, watching as they all turned from the patio doors. “So let me go get their keys and we can go. You guys ready?”

You could see how they finally looked normal. Their tense shoulders were not there. The need to give everyone the side eye every time they were spoken to by the company staff. The sad looks they would have when being separated from one another. All of it was gone.

Now they had hopeful looks. Tears ready to pour out of their eyes from the prospect of getting to see their families and friends from the world they were cruelly taken from. They were finally free. And you were the cause of it.

“We're more than ready.”

Series Masterlist

Next Update will be on Thursday November 30 (United States time)

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee , @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @k-p0p-4ever , @shadowyjellyfishfest , @forestsquirrel , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoopp , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie , @girl-nahh-two , @shyloh-the-cornsnake , @oemmi2005 , @ollyoxenfrees , @whynotlarene , @beeltsumuu , @cryingpages , @milopenne , @belikejk , @bts-4-life-ot7 , @woozixo, @serveruslovebot , @vintageoldfashion ,

205 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 3 months

Text

The Sun & the Moon | Rhysand x Reader

summary: Rhysand wants to write you the perfect poem for Valentine's Day and calls up Cassian and Azriel for help.

warnings: fluff and some implied smut/mainly suggestive tones.

Happy Valentine's Day! ♡

a/n: So I got a little ahead of myself because this can be read as a stand alone (all you have to know is that reader is a healer from Dawn Court.) But it is a part of my Wanna Be Yours series. All because I saw this tiktok sound of this poem and found it so beautiful. I did not write this poem, all credit goes to this creator. I also wanted to write a scene of Rhys struggling to write a poem (I had some saved on pinterest) in part two but had to scrap the scene out for other ones. Now, it's a win-win situation. Don't worry, there are not really spoilers in here for what I have planned. Just know this takes place after their happy ending (:

Valentine’s Day is approaching and Rhysand finds himself facing an unprecedented dilemma. Getting you a gift. A gift as special and perfect as you.

The pressure is high, and the responsibility lies squarely on his shoulders, particularly given the mating gift he presented to you. An expansive estate, where everything–the architecture, the decor, and furniture seamlessly marries the celestial essence of the sun and moon. The grand house paints an exquisite portrait of dawn, reflecting the enchanting blend of your old court and now new one.

So naturally, given his stress, he calls upon his brothers for help.

“You called us here because you don’t know what to get y/n for Valentine’s? y/n, your mate?” Cassian asked, carrying a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“I thought this was important,” came from Azriel.

Rhysand shoots Azriel a pointed look. “This is important.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow while Cassian grins. The two exchange a knowing glance that hinted at a shared understanding. Just as Rhysand prepared to delve into their minds to unravel their thoughts, they turned their attention back to him, nodding in unison.

"Alright, Rhys," Cassian began, clearing his throat dramatically, "How about flowers?”

Rhysand slumps into his desk chair, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I get her flowers every week.”

Cassian mirrors Rhysand, seating himself on one of the chairs across from him. He throws his hands up in the air. “Then, I don’t know.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“How about you gift her something a little more sentimental?” Azriel offers. He crosses his arms deep in thought, resting his chin on one hand. “Something small but meaningful.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes light up, the silver specs in his irises glimmering like stars. “Like a poem! Y/n loves poetry."

The library in your home is stocked with a vast amount of poetry. Mainly romantic ones and then, the initial enthusiasm gives way to a fading spark.

Expressing the depth of his feelings verbally comes naturally to Rhysand. His silver-tongued declarations never fail to effortlessly convey how much you mean to him. He is the master of tone and inflection when it comes to expressing his feelings for you and when those are not enough, he loves to show you. Often. With that silver-tongue of his.

However, the transition to writing felt like a different art form altogether. It was challenging because how could he successfully capture the nuances of his love for you in writing? When he'd rather show you...

Rhysand runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, a frown creasing his face. He wants to do this for you but--

“I’ve never written a poem before.”

He looks up to Azriel for help, who in return merely shrugs with a smirk. “I don’t resort to poetry.”

“Oh! I got it!” Cassian, on the other hand, leans forward in his seat with nothing but pure mischief reflected in his gaze. “How about this? Roses are red, violets are blue. y/n, my love, I’m obsessed with you.”

The silence was loud. And then Azriel’s deep laughter fills the air. He finally takes a seat next to Cassian’s, sensing this is going to take awhile. “That is terrible.”

“Absolutely,” Rhysand agrees, his expression defeated. It doesn’t stop him from summoning a quill, ink and paper right in front of Cassian. “But jot that down...just in case.”

As the trio delved deeper into their poetic endeavors, Rhysand's frustration grew. Cassian's attempts became increasingly cheesy. Meanwhile, Azriel just sat back and watched, his shadows peeking curiously over Cassian’s and Rhysand’s papers. He would give his input when necessary, more inclined towards laughter than actually helping.

Nearly two hours later and drowning in parchment full of scribbled attempts at poetry, Rhysand lets out an exasperated sigh, finally excusing Cassian and Azriel. They leave all too quickly, slipping away before Rhysand could retract the words of dismissal that had escaped him.

There’s still a frown in his brow as his eyes graze over all the poems him and Cassian wrote together. He couldn't bear the thought of presenting any of these creations to you. The inked words on paper seemed to mock the depth of his feelings, failing to capture his love for you.

His eyes flutter shut as he allows his thoughts to drift toward you. The clock's hands have nudged past noon, and the familiarity of your daily rhythm dances in his mind. He knows your schedule as you know his. It’s right after your lunch so he knows you’re at your desk.

A mental portrait forms, capturing you leaning forward at your desk. Maybe a touch hunched over as you read over a patient's reports with that adorable furrow in your brow. There’s a window right behind you and given the sun is currently at its peak, he can imagine how it glows upon you like a radiant spotlight.

And when your eyes grow tired from reading, he can already picture the way you’d lean back in your chair, spinning around to face the sun. Your eyes would be fluttering shut like his at this moment. The sun would now be shining on you, its golden hues cascading upon you in an ethereal glow where every beloved feature is highlighted. A living embodiment of warmth and brilliance.

You're his sun but you’re also his moon.

His eyes snap open, his grip on the quill tightening. Before he knows it, words are spilling effortlessly onto the blank parchment in front of him as he lets his emotions flow. He feels a tug down the bond, as if you could sense his thoughts, and with a smile, he echoes the sentiment. He couldn’t wait for you to read it.

Valentine’s day dawns a week later, and Rhysand’s excitement for you to read his poem is palpable. It took all his restraint not to give it to you as soon as he finished it.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to take the day off. It didn’t matter as your plans for tonight were simple–just a lovely dinner together, made by Rhysand, in the privacy of your home. All that mattered is that you had tomorrow off.

Rhysand waits for you right outside the steps of the clinic, not wanting to distract you from your last reports. He could feel your presence grow nearer and nearer through the bond. He tugs on it, a silent urge to pull you to him faster. The door opens and you’re rushing down the steps to meet him.

Throwing your arms around his neck, you bury your head into his chest, inhaling softly. He feels his heart flutter and he tightens his arms around you, holding you close in his embrace. “Hi, love,” you murmur.

He pulls away, cradling your face in his hands. He smiles and then kisses you, pouring all his love and devotion to you. A promise of what’s to come later. “Hey, beautiful. You ready to go home?”

“Always. As long as it’s with you,” you tell him, voice still breathless as your hand effortlessly entwines with his.

Rhysand’s lips twitch and he finds himself melting at your words. Instinctively, he averts his gaze, warmth flooding his cheeks as he bites his lip. He intended to walk you home as Velaris had decorated the streets with hearts, flowers and pink garland. He gives your hand a squeeze and winnows you both directly to the comfort of your home instead.

He reluctantly lets you go so that you can wash up and change.

When you join him in the dining room, the glamor he had placed earlier lifts, revealing an exquisite dinner that has your stomach growling. Cute hearts, flowers and confetti adorn the table and walls around you, filling your heart with a cozy glow.

As his gaze lifts from the table, his eyes widen, pupils flaring.

“Come here, you,” he breathes, pushing his chair back just enough for you to have space to settle onto his lap.

“I’m hungry,” you say, a small warning delivered with a touch of mirth. His eyes sparkle at you with an unmistakable gleam as he drags a finger up the fabric of your red dress. But your body betrays your words, leaning in to his teasing touch.

“Me too," Rhysand replies with a smirk and it's evident he's not referring to the food plated in front of you.

Your stomach growls and he chuckles, resting his hand on your waist instead. “Let’s eat then.”

The two of you dive into the dinner Rhysand made, feeding each other and catching up with one another. You’re nearly in a food coma, collapsing into Rhysand’s chest when you're done. He rests his head on your shoulder, his strong arms securing their place around your waist.

“I got you something,” he whispers against your neck, lifting his head only to speak his next words. “Well, I wrote you something.”

“You wrote something for me?”

He takes delight in the surprise and excitement in your voice. Raising a hand, he retrieves his valentine card from the pocket realm. The only place he deemed fit to hide his poem for you. He’s too busy pressing his lips against your neck, to hide the giddiness he feels inside, to notice his mistake.

“Roses are red. Violet’s are–”

“Not that one!” Rhysand exclaims, body tensing behind you as he rips it from your hands. “I did not write that one!"

You can’t help but laugh. “Then who did?”

“Cas.”

“Cassian wrote a poem for me?” You reply, eyes widening slightly as you shift in his lap to face him. You're thankful the dress you chose has a loose skirt as it allows you to move freely and settle a thigh on either side of him.

“Gods, no,” Rhysand groans, cursing himself for not discarding that poem once he had written his. He leans forward, burying his head into your chest for a moment to hide his embarrassment.

“I asked Cas and Az for help. I didn’t know what to get you because–well, you’re perfect to me and nothing could ever amount to the love I feel for you. Az suggested I give you something small but meaningful and I know how much you love poems but I’ve never written one so then–”

You interrupt Rhysand with a soft and sweet kiss. When you pull away, Rhysand chases after you but you stop him, pressing your fingers his lips. He plants a kiss on your fingers, holding your gaze.

“Let me read it. The poem you actually wrote.”

“Okay,” Rhysand breathes as he summons another red envelope from the pocket realm. He holds it out to you. “But don’t laugh.”

“Never,” you reassure him as you take the envelope, fingers eagerly tearing it open.

He watches with bated breath, a cascade of emotions swirling within him, as your eyes gracefully traverse from left to right, absorbing every emotion he poured out to you. It's endearing—the tender way your expression, while immersed in his poem, mirrors the very sentiment he wore on his face while crafting it for you. Your lips curve into a radiant smile, and the spark in your eyes begins to glisten with heartfelt tears. In that moment, he can feel the ripples through your shared bond, overwhelming and flooding with an abundance of pure, unbridled love.

“I love it,” you manage to say as you lift your gaze to meet his again. Holding the poem to your chest, you store into the safety of your pocket realm. “I’m going to frame it.”

“I love you,” Rhysand says and then kisses you. “So, so much.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper against his lips and then wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him even closer to you. “Now, it’s my turn to give you your gift.”

this is the poem:

"If the sun and moon had a baby, it would be you.

Cause you are so beautiful.

You radiate light like the sun.

And you bring me calmness like the moon.

You balance me out like the earth and that’s just the beginning of everything you do.

I think that you’re so gorgeous and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes.

Because how could I get so lucky to have someone so beautiful like you in my life.”

a/n: I thought this poem was really cute, especially given the sun/moon theme of this series. It's 11:58pm where I live so technically, I made it before Valentine's Day was over lol. I apologize if there are any typos. I tend to make them a lot and switch words out (like I caught myself writing lips instead of lap) when I'm tired. This is exactly the type of vibe i'm going for, for Rhys in this series. It's a scene from a kdrama, where the male fell hard first for the female and he's totally endeared by her. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

tagging: @minnieoo , @phoenixgurl030 (I know this isn't part two but I tagged y'all just in case, y'all were interested ♡)

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #rhysand fanfiction #rhys wby au

188 notes · View notes

mrs-illyrian-baby · 5 months

Text

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 11

Ambrosia | Loki x Reader

You and Loki take time to reconnect after your kidnapping, and Loki is sure to show you that there is no version of himself that doesn't care for you.

Warnings: 18+ language & sexual content. Oral (f receiving), public(ish) sex, Loki duplicates!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

The jet was eerily quiet, even when the sound of the sea had faded into nothing. As soon as you’d emerged from the castle, Thor had wrapped both arms around you and squeezed until Loki had called him a brute and pushed him away so that he could hold you himself. Despite the insult, Thor continued to grin, placing a large hand on top of your head and rubbing it.

“I can see you will keep my brother on his toes, what trouble you are!” But his words held no malice and he carried on smiling as Loki led you back into the waiting jet.

Tony, though, had merely nodded at you, stepping out of his suit and straight into the cockpit, a shout of, “you’d better be able to keep them in line,” aimed at Thor and then you were heading back to the compound, the sky a blur outside of the small windows and your prison merely a spec below.

Now you were curled over a small table, the tactical plans of Tønsberg pushed aside while you slept and Loki watched on, wary, one hand on the small of your back and the other curled around the hilt of his dagger, ready to defend you at a moment’s notice.

Thor seemed oblivious to Loki’s worries, focussed instead on his excitement that Loki would finally be joining him as an Avenger, “and with the Lady too, Loki we shall have an excellent time, just as we did when we were boys.” His hand clapped Loki on the shoulder, despite Loki’s best efforts to shrug him off.

“Stark has quite the array of weapons and armour, you would enjoy looking through it, I’m sure and -”

Loki took Thor’s paw between his long fingers and moved it away, “it is for a single of your missions only, then my Ásynja and I will be leaving.”

“The Lady may enjoy being a mighty hero yet, she is surely trouble enough for you, humm?” Thor teased and Loki’s heart sank. It had become a clear and vivid image in his mind, ever since you were taken, that you would no longer trust him and would instead differ your attention back to the Avengers. He could see you now, one of Stark’s ridiculously over engineered outfits slick to your beautiful body, a choice selection of gadgets and unnecessary technology bandaged around your wrists. He couldn’t stand even the thought of it, you were a powerful goddess and he’d never allow you to be disrespected as by these Midgardians.

“My darling, is a Goddess, far superior to the boorish and ridiculous concerns of Midgard.” Loki indulged himself, he moved his hand in a comforting circle on your back while you mumbled in your sleep, turning your body towards his with a soft smile. His worries eased, even at rest you turned to him, as he looked for you.

“If you believe so brother, well, then it must be true.” Thor grinned, “I shall help Stark while you stand guard for your Ásynja”

Loki, for once, bit his tongue, his only concern was your safety and comfort, and now that you were alone he could allow his shields to drop, his battle armour to fade into black, though he kept his daggers close about his person.

“Loki?” You whispered, lifting yourself enough to really look at him. He looked as tired as you felt, a swipe of purple below his blue green eyes. Concern faded into affection and his arms opened, inviting you fully into his welcoming embrace.

“Yes, my darling?” Loki smoothed a hand down your cheek, cradling you gently and turning your gaze to meet his.

“I’m glad you’re here, that we’re here together.” You whispered, nuzzling into him and inhaling the deep scent of amber and spice, sweet and deep and mysterious. Loki’s heart swelled, the worry that had been growing like a fire was banked for now, but still simmering in his thoughts. For now, he could enjoy your trust and he would deal with his promise to Stark later.

You missed Tønsberg, despite only spending a short time in the fishing village it had already gained a place in your heart, intrinsically entangled with your feelings for Loki, stronger now that you had been apart and seen the extent of his promise to you. He would keep you safe, and you believed him, the memory of his eyes, wild with fury as he killed your guard, the blood spilling across the floor, the metallic scent of it stinging your senses. Every time your traitorous heart doubted him you took yourself back to that moment, whenever your nightmares rattled you, you thought of his strong hands, clutching you so desperately.

The bedroom assigned to you in the compound was more luxurious and comfortable than it had been before, but it was thankfully still near enough to Loki’s room that you could easily see him whenever you wanted.

Despite your best attempts at making do, it wasn’t the same as your fantasies of a home in Tønsberg. Loki enjoyed fine things but, regardless of the images you’d seen on the television and the way the Avengers discussed him, he was not greedy. You had seen his home from across the bay, a modest stone built house that you hoped one day you would be able to explore. Not the glass and metal office block that the Avengers called home.

As you lay back on your bed, your belly full for the first time in weeks, your body clean and warm from your bath, wrapped in a soft cotton dressing gown, you were at least thankful for these small mercies . But you still didn’t feel comfortable.

Your mind called to him, uncontrollable and urgent, a request, a prayer and then, as if he had truly heard you, a knock on your door.

Scrambling to your feet you pulled your robe tighter around yourself and cracked open the door.

“Good evening,” Loki stood a step back from the door, hands held politely behind his back in a way that accentuated his broad shoulders, the lean muscles that crossed his chest pulled his t-shirt tight, showing off the extent of his godly strength, contained so casual beneath what you were sure was soft cotton.

“Hi, Loki,” you stepped back, allowing him to follow you into his room, though he waited near the door. Since your return, an awkward pall had fallen over you both, confusing the state of your relationship despite the way he’d kissed you during your rescue.

Loki, feeling guilty and culpable for your capture, had stayed mostly away, though he shot the most pining of looks in your direction whenever you were around. And you had inexpertly dodged any conversation that sought to solidify or label the way that you behaved around each other. There had been no official conversation and, to your own knowledge, you were either betrothed to or, worse, already married to a Lord of Vannaheim.

“I was passing by and wondered if you’d accompany me to dinner tonight?” Loki asked, formally, his face schooled to hide his worry.

You looked down at yourself, you’d been reluctant to get dressed properly since you returned. Even clothes feeling like a restriction, but you did want to go with Loki, you yearned to spend time in his presence again just to stop that roiling feeling that had been building inside of you.

“I’ve not got anything to wear,” you knew the excuse was lame and you cringed as you said it, but you wanted to see what he’d say, what he’d do, if this was how you had to be for a while.

“That’s no real concern, you and I can both create whichever luxury your heart desires.” Loki’s smile was indulgent, hiding his thoughts about all of the beautiful, alluring outfits he had planned when you came to him again, because he knew you would, even if he had to tease you back out of your shell.

“I know I should be able to but-” you sighed, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “I’m having trouble with it again. I know I should just be able to remember, but it’s hard and, well, I was dressed up like a doll when I was locked up. I don’t want to be a doll.”

Loki crossed the room in long strides and then lowered himself to one knee before you. The ever confident God took your hands and held them close, tipping your chin up again. “You are not a doll. You are a Goddess, Ásynja, a Goddess and you will be and wear and look like whatever you choose. If you wish to accompany me to dinner in your robe, then so be it.”

Loki’s hand fluttered, revealing his own robe, although the green silk was very different to the pink terry cloth that you favoured. Unbidden your eyes drifted down the revealed v at his chest, and the long lines of his bare legs.

“I want to come with you, I just don’t feel like a Goddess.” You admitted, eyes fixed to his bare calves to hide your face from him.

“What would make you feel like a Goddess?”

“I like your cape, your cloak? It looks so regal, and I’ve been doing some reading about my mother, Brigid.” Tears welled in your eyes, when Brunnhilde had shown you your childhood on Asgard and you’d been drawn to the vision of your mother, but you hadn’t remembered her, not really. It had been such a long time since you’d seen her, and whatever spell they had cast or potion you’d been taking to suppress your memories had pushed her deep into the recesses of your mind. But she had worn a cape of green and blue, like rich sage and the rolling winter sea, and you wanted one too.

“If my Ásynja desires a cape, then a cape you shall have.”

Unlike the rune magic of your prison, Loki’s magic felt warm when it poured over you, as if you were submerging yourself in a warm bath of his attentions. Your robe was replaced with a thick velvet cape of deepest forest green velvet.

As it settled around you, Loki’s magic caressing you through every fibre, your own magic sang back. Quiet and shy, but determined, and you allowed it to swell over you body encasing you in a matching, silk, wrap dress, your magic flickered silver, tying a bow at your hip with a flourish.

Loki beamed at you, pride and pleasure at one in his handsome features. “Now you simply have to accompany me to dinner, a lady so beautiful shouldn’t have to be alone.” He held his arm out and you tucked your hand into his elbow, allowing him to lead you from the room.

Even if your fellow compound residents had wanted to comment on your dress, or on you leaving your room for the first time all week, one look from Loki would have silenced them as you walked through the common room. He commanded the space as if he ruled it and in an effort to keep pace with his long strides you could feel your posture lengthening, your shoulders back and head held him.

Walking through the bare, cold, halls of the compound normally felt so empty and uncanny, but wrapped in Loki’s colours you felt not just warm, but cared for. Protected. Loki himself had foregone his usual green and gold for the evening, choosing instead a sapphire blue suit.

Beside him you truly felt like you could be the Goddess he believed you were.

It seemed he was determined to treat you like a Goddess as well.

Where you had expected an Avengers town car, Loki had led you to his own Jaguar, so dark green it was almost black and with leather seats stitched with his insignia.

When you had anticipated a meal in the common room, Loki had booked a private room at an exclusive restaurant, it’s dining room dark and moody with only the flicker of candle light to illuminate the other diners.

And if you thought you were getting anything but the best, you were mistaken. Loki was the perfect gentleman, pulling out your chair and ensuring your glass was never empty. Before you could even worry about your past ordeal or what would come next, Loki was stroking your hand and kissing your palm.

“This is all, it’s a lot, Loki. It’s very nice, but I've never been somewhere like this before.” You whispered, worried about drawing the attention of the waitress hovering by the curtained doorway.

“I can assure you, my darling, you have lived a life of greater luxury than this.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember me either?”

“Our noble King deigned to share the memory of your afternoon together after you went missing and it sparked many memories for myself, and for Thor. I am quite sure you spent many years in the epitome of luxury, this is merely a detour on your way back to your throne.” He kissed the back of your hand again before sipping slowly on the rich red wine he’d ordered for you both.

“Don’t mention thrones for goodness sake, I wasn’t happy about it back then and I’m not entirely sure I want it now.” You scoffed.

Loki looked back at his menu nonchalantly, “and would you wish to stay with the Avengers instead?” He asked. He had yet to mention the deal he’d made when he secured their support in your rescue and, while he didn’t want to ruin your evening together, the truth would come out sooner or later.

“God no,” you scoffed and Loki watched as you chewed your thumb, scanning over the menu items and humming as you thought.

The heavy feeling that had been constricting his chest lightened, you’d been happy to see him, yes. But he’d felt hollow at the thought of you staying with the Avengers instead.

“So what do you want to do then?”

You shrugged, unsure, “gosh, Loki, who knows.”

“Did you like Tønsberg ?”

“Yes,”

“How would you like to stay with me then?” He smiled, extending his hand and his heart, waiting for you to say no and make the killing strike.

But no such blow arrived.

“I’d love that,” your smile was broad but soft, lighting your eyes, “let’s toast to it.” You held your glass out and rang it against Loki’s, falling into his stormy gaze, “when can we go?”

During your captivity you’d spent hours lying in bed dreaming of Tønsberg, of Loki and the life that you could have together and now it was really coming true.

“Well,” Loki pulled his glass back, setting it carefully to one side and folding his long fingers together. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Yes?” The way you looked at him made his chest tighten again, the excitement and trust in your eyes was unbearable.

“I required a certain amount of…support, when I came to find you.” He started and you continued to smile gently, cupping your chin in your palm, he watched your eyelashes brush against your cheek and wished he could kiss you there instead. “And the Avengers gave their support - however,” he kept talking, cutting you off so he could keep his momentum now that he was finally going to admit the truth, “however, I did have to make certain bargains with Stark that include…working for them, both of us working for them.”

“Working for them?” You sat back in your chair, the candle light picking out the creases in your frown. “I hadn’t made any decision about that really - not until you asked me just now. Why even mention it if I don’t have a choice?”

Norns, he was losing you, you were angry and rightly so, the thought of working with those self righteous show oafs was awful

“I wanted you to know that you have other options, there’s no call for you to rely on them if you have other plans or ambitions. There will always be a place for you in Tønsberg - there will always be a place for you with me.” He ended, eyes pleading for you to understand.

“Then I suppose I’d better honour whatever deal you made with Stark and - and I think you will have to honour your deal with me, because I want to go with you when this is all over, I don’t trust them anymore.”

You took his hand, squeezing it hard enough that his ring dug into his finger, a reminder of your devotion and his stupidity for ever doubting you. Despite oceans of time, the width of the galaxy and the work of his father you were still together, and still strong.

“I’m glad you came to my room tonight.” You whispered, leaning closer over the small table to press a kiss to his cheek, the smell of your perfume filling his senses. Beneath your lips, Loki’s skin was soft and warm, your nose brushing against his sharp cheekbone before pulling back to press your lips against his ear. “I can’t wait for you to take me back there.”

“I see you’re feeling bold tonight, Ásynja.” He growled back, his hand behind your head when you tried to pull back, instead he cupped your cheeks and kissed you, his lips slotting against your own as if you were always meant to fit together.

“Why wait?”

“What?”

Before you could think, familiar hands tugged you back, gliding down your shoulders to your arms and keeping you pinned in your chair.

“Be good for us, my darling.” Loki purred, picking up his glass again and swirling the wine around inside, idly watching it dribble back into the glass while your heart hammered in your chest.

“Us?”

You had known, instinctively, but turning your head to see the vision of another Loki still made you start. The last time such a vision had appeared to you they had been cruel and something deep inside twisted with fear. The vision loosened their grip in response, trailing their fingers up and down the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist until they felt your heartbeat slow again.

“I know what they did to you in that tower, I know the sorts of powers and tortures men like that find amusing.” There was a furious edge to Loki’s voice that you’d heard many times, usually aimed at your fellow housemates. “I know what they did and I want to show you that I am always yours, my darling, my Ásynja, and that any image of me belongs to you wholly.”

The vision began placing the softest of kisses up the column of your neck. Mere brushes of their lips that tingled with magic.

“I belong to you, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that every facet of me brings only pleasure and never pain.” The vision kissed you again, teeth gently nipping your pulse point, “well, only pleasurable pain.” He winked.

“Oh - OH - I believe you.”

Heat was pooling between your legs, liquid and languid, it flowed through your veins to the ethereal Loki that was teasing you so thoroughly, barely touching you but lighting sparks of electricity that flowed through your veins.

Before you the tablecloth rustled and your chair moved, squeaking on the parquet floor, until your legs were hidden under the neatly pressed fabric. “Loki - oh my - fuck!”

Across the table, Loki smirked, below it, his duplicate had parted your legs and pushed his face between your thighs. Where the first was delicate and teasing, the second was rough and needy, lapping stripes along the already damp gusset of your panties before holding them aside with one long finger and burying his tongue inside of you.

“Fuck? Yes, that is the general idea, my darling.” He relaxed back into his chair, enjoying the view of your writhing body, his own hands itching to touch you. Through his illusions he could feel the trembling of your legs, the heat of your skin and the delicious ambrosia hidden between your thighs. But it was merely a hint, a scent, rather than the taste and he wished to feel his sense with you.

With a wave of his hands the sensations vanished and your eyes shot open to see him before you, a God, resplendent in his tight Asgardian leather, the shine of rich forest green seemed endless in the candlelight, as if you could fall into him and be lost forever.

“I must have you again, Ásynja, my darling, my Estrid, my goddess.” He held his right hand out, the left tucked formally behind his back.

“You have all of me too, Loki, my Prince, my God.” You placed your hand in his and in a flash you were in his arms, his hands splayed across your back holding you close and you allowed your hands to slide up his firm biceps to his shoulders. “Take me home so we can worship each other.”

<<Chapter 10

Chapter 12 >>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #Loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki angst

177 notes · View notes

fanwarriorfictions · 15 days

Text

Help Me, Help You - Part One

Fenrys x F!Reader

Summary- In his search for the missing member of the cadre, Fenrys stumbles upon Vaughan’s little sister, who is also searching for her brother. They strike a deal, and set of to find the slippery male.

Warnings- tiny bit of angst if you squint

Based on this ask

Series Masterlist

Part One

There was a cat following him.

It had been for several days now, ever since he’d shown up in the small village just north of Verese. He wouldn’t have paid the creature any mind if it hadn’t been for the keen eyes that tracked his every step to the small inn that first night. And again, when it showed up that morning as soon as Fenrys stepped into the village market.

Fenrys had been searching for Vaughan for months now, since the end of the war, since he’d driven Goldryn into Maeve’s black heart and watched as Aelin burned her to ash, since her death hadn’t fixed any of the broken pieces of him.

He’d set off soon after that, to look for the final member of the cadre, to offer him a place in Terrasen, to distract his mind from the memories.

In the time Fenrys had searched, he’d only been able to find small signs that the male even existed. Picking rumors from towns and villages, but Vaughan was smart, he didn’t leave a trail if he could get away with it.

Sometimes Fenrys would follow a lead only to hit a dead end, turning back to find that the male had went the complete opposite direction.

He’d heard rumors of a to large osprey flying north from Wendlyn’s capital. So he’d followed them to this tiny little spec of a village. Full of humans who were to hesitant or downright to terrified to speak to him, even when Fenrys flashed his charming smile.

Though he understood that the effect was diminished by the scars that now adorned one side of his face. His eye just barely spared from the damage.

He’d refused to heal the wounds, had refused to tell anyone why he’d let them scar, only telling Aelin once that he wanted to remember. She hadn’t pried, he almost wished she had.

The only thing that didn’t seem to mind the scars in this village was the damned cat. It simply watched him as he struck out with every single vendor in the market, those keen eyes examining him from head to toe. Day after day, it watched.

Now, Fenrys openly glares back at the creature, larger than a usual house cat, more like one of the forest cats that hunted in Oakwald, the dark grey and white fur perfect for blending into the shadows, striking at prey fast and disappearing even quicker.

The cat simply stares back, its head tilting in that predatory way, like he was nothing more than a mouse it had marked for dinner.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen the bastard I’m looking for?”

The poor woman at the spice stand beside Fenrys balks at him, eyes wide and scared as he talked to the cat. Gods, he was talking to a damned cat. He was surely going crazy, maybe he should give up on this useless search and go back to Terrasen.

Fenrys smiles at the woman, his mask of cool charm in place, “Sorry, you wouldn’t happen to have seen a large bird flying through here have you?”

That’s all that charm was nowadays, a mask. It felt like a preformance, and Fenrys was the poor fool forced to act.

He could scent her fear but the woman opened her mouth, voice pitched, “I have actually.”

The cat seemed to perk from its spot on the window seat across from them.

Fenrys raised a brow at the creature, turning back to the woman, “Did you see where he was headed?”

“He was flying north,” the woman swallows nervously, “I thought it odd considering winter is already setting in up near the port. It didn’t stick around long.”

The first real clue he’d gotten in the week he’d been there, and it would seem the male was well on his way. Hopefully he wasn’t already on a damned boat back across the ocean.

“Thank you.” Fenrys pulls a few gold pieces from his pocket, watching the woman’s eyes go wide as he sets them on the counter between them.

He turns, finding that cat still watching him, almost expectantly, “Are you coming?”

Unsurprisingly, the cat follows him as he walks back to the run down inn, keeping a healthy distance between them.

He left it on the street in front of the inn, climbing the rickety steps that groaned beneath his weight. The tiny room feels claustrophobic, the bed barely big enough to hold him, the only light is the sun through a single window and a candle he’d scavenged from the bar room on the first floor.

Fenrys didn’t have much to pack, just a few clothes and his weapons. He didn’t even bother to close the door behind him, he’d be out in less than a minute.

“Are you leaving?”

He whirled towards the voice, dagger poised to strike. Fenrys found a beautiful female, familiar keen eyes watching him with curiosity, like she had for the past week. The damned cat, he was almost annoyed with himself for not realizing she was fae.

“Tired of watching from a far?” Fenrys asks, giving the female a lazy smirk.

He keeps that dagger level with her throat, laying the charm on thick to hide the way his heart had leapt in his chest. Not many could sneak up on him, he never let his guard down, especially now.

Her eyes still have a feline look to them, a shine in the light that left Fenrys feeling uneasy.

She steps further into the room, like she didn’t care about that blade aimed for her throat, “Are you going to find him?”

“Find who?”

That glare is near lethal and Fenrys feels his invisible hackles raise, ready to fight.

“Don’t play dumb with me, pup.”

“So you know who I am,” he states, a scarred brow raised, “How do you know who I’m looking for?”

“Because I’ve been looking for him too,” she says, arms crossing over her chest. “Now that your bitch of a Queen is dead, he’s finally free to come home.”

Even after her death, very few fae, especially this close to Doranelle, were brave enough to speak against Maeve. Even the ones who’d fought with them against her and Erawan’s forces, she was like a ghost, still haunting them all.

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but he’s been a free male for months now. I doubt your dear Vaughan is coming home to you.” Fenrys can’t help the smirk that came to his lips as he looks her up and down, “Which is a mistake on his part.”

The look of disgust on her face is near comical, “I’m not some desperate old flame.”

He raises a brow, “Sorry to assume. If not a vengeful past lover, then who are you?”

“His sister,” she snarls.

Fenrys felt like the carpet was pulled out from beneath his feet. The shock is enough to have him lowering his dagger.

“He has a sister?”

He didn’t see much resemblance, Vaughan was an imposing male, tall, nearly as tall as Lorcan with dark hair and eyes, and he was quiet, rarely speaking more than he had to, never joining in on celebrations or nights spent at pubs.

Now that Fenrys thought about it, he didn’t know all that much about the male, beside his time in Maeve’s cadre. An excellent warrior, they’d fought side by side many times, had fought for Mistward. He’d been blood sworn to the valg queen long before Connall and Fenrys had taken their oaths. Other than that, Vaughan was a mystery.

“I’m not surprised my brother never told you of me.” The female perches on the edge of the small wooden desk by the door, “Vaughan is an over protective bastard when he cares enough to show his face.”

There’s an edge to her voice, she was very angry at her brother, and he could understand why. The elusive male could have gone home at any time, yet he was still traveling the world.

He’d traced him through Erilea, and all the way across the ocean back to Wendlyn, yet not Doranelle. He’d kept his distance from the fae cities, like he was hiding from something, maybe someone.

Fenrys examines the female, just as she examines the tiny room around them, her eyes flitting over his weapons with little interest. She holds herself with feline grace, like her other form lingered in this one. No wonder she was able to sneak up on him without a sound.

“What’s your name?” Fenrys asks.

She’s clad in form fitting leathers, similar to the suit Aelin had worn in her time as an assassin. Fenrys, a full blooded fae male, noted that she was absolutely gorgeous, the type of female that would have males and females alike crawling for her.

Maybe in another life, before the events in the past year, Fenrys would have crawled for her too.

“Y/n,” she says simply, turning that gaze back on him, “And I already know who you are.”

“I hope your brother only told you the good stories,” he grins.

She gives him an unimpressed look, “He told me enough.”

Given his own reputation, Fenrys wasn’t really surprised by the lack luster response. He wasn’t the type many would want their sisters around.

“Ouch.” Fenrys raises a hand to his heart, pouting, “That bad-“

“I’m not here for small talk,” she interrupts, pushing off that desk, “You’ve been asking around for my brother for months now, why?”

The room was truly to small, the few steps she takes places her directly in front of him. She’s either really brave, or incredibly stupid to put herself in easy striking distance.

“Straight to the point,” Fenrys nods, “I like that, it’s quite refreshing.”

Her glare could set him ablaze, “Do you know where he’s going? Why he hasn’t come home?”

“You’ve been following me around,” he shrugs, “I’m sure you know as much as I do at this point. Which is a whole lot of nothing.”

“Why are you looking for him?” She asks again, “From what I hear you’re serving a new queen, is Aelin Galathynius so desperate to fill her court with Maeve’s old one?”

Fenrys can’t stop the flare of anger. The condescending tone, the obvious distaste of his queen, his friend.

“She wishes to offer him the same courtesy she offered me and mine,” he snarls, closing that small gap between them.

Fenrys wasn’t as tall and foreboding as Lorcan or even Rowan, but he wasn’t small by any means. Y/n had to crane her neck back to keep her glare locked on his own. She somehow makes it seem like she’s looking down her nose at him.

“And what’s that?” She asks, rolling her eyes at him, “A blood oath or death?”

“A better world,” Fenrys snaps, “It’s his choice if he wants to join her court, there’s no consequence if he doesn’t, simply an offer.”

She hums, “Isn’t that amicable.”

Fenrys took a deep breath through his nose, forcing himself to calm down, “Was there something you wanted, kitty cat? Or are you just here for the view?”

The nickname has its desired effect, she bristles, and Fenrys mockingly smirks at her. That seems to get under her skin even more.

“I have a proposition,” she grounds out, “I think we can help each other.”

“Oh?” Fenrys lets his smirk turn into a lazy grin, that mask of male arrogance, “How so?”

“My brother isn’t an idiot,” she hisses, taking a large step away from him, a look of pure disgust on her face, “He’s no doubt heard of you asking around for him, just like I did. You’ll never catch up to him.”

Fenrys keeps his distance, “Oh really? And you think you can? If you could, you wouldn’t be here asking me for help.”

He turns back to his bag, throwing the last few shirts into it before slinging the leather pack over his shoulder. She stands directly in the doorway, blocking his only exit out of the room.

“Now if you’ll excuse me.” He nods to the open hall behind her, “I should-“

“He’s leaving for the southern continent,” Y/n interrupts, “Their was a naval ship sent by King Glaston himself, a gift for the Khagan, it left a few days ago, and I’m willing to bet my brother is stowed away on it.”

That’s exactly what Fenrys had been nervous of. And of course he was going to the southern continent, the massive expanse of land where the male could quite literally go anywhere.

Fenrys raises a brow at her, “If you know where he’s going, why ask for my help at all?”

Her eyes shift, just barely, and it’s enough to tell Fenrys that she’s nervous.

“You know my brother,” she says, “You were his friend-”

“In the loosest sense of the word,” Fenrys cuts in.

He raises his hands in mock surrender when she glares at his interruption. After a moment, the scathing heat leaves her eyes and she sighs.

“I haven’t seen my brother in nearly two decades, the last time we saw each other.” She stops, frowning down at the ground, “You aren’t the only one he’s trying to shake off his tail.”

Sibling fights, Fenrys feels his heart squeeze painfully in his chest, he knew those all to well.

Onyx eyes, blankly staring at him, the life bleeding out of them onto the floor.

“We have a common goal.” Her voice brings him back to the present, “If we work together, we may be able to find him, and we both get what we want.”

Y/n sticks her hand out between them. Fenrys sees the smallest waver in her, the shaking she tries to hide. Behind the glares and grace, was simply a girl, desperate to find her brother, to make amends.

And maybe it was that, the fact that Fenrys would never have that chance, that made him take her hand in his.

“Help me, Help you.” Fenrys shakes her hand once, noting how incredibly soft her palms are compared to his calloused one, “You’ve got a deal.”

And when she smiles, Fenrys find it in him to smile back.

“So when do we leave?” Y/n asks.

Fenrys gestures towards the hall behind her, “Right now, kitten.”

“Don’t call me that,” she hisses.

And Fenrys laughs, and for the first time in many many months, it feels almost genuine.

#throne of glass #throne of glass x reader #tog #tog x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #throne of glass fenrys #fenrys tog

89 notes · View notes