#coming out of whatever high trance I just had where I was connected to all of that childhood terror of being seen by my mother. I was afraid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tchallasbabymama · 3 years

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Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

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“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

“Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me,@toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @blacklytical, @uzumaki-rebellion, @honeyandpeaches, @cecereads209, @wakandama2,

#smutchallenge #cecewritessometimes #oneshot #erik killmonger x oc #black!oc #smut #Youtube

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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HARSH - Anon request reader x azriel

“ hey there , ngl i’ve had a pretty rough week and now in desperate need for angst to fluff, az x reader where reader had struggles talking through her life bc of a rough childhood and az helped her talk freely and helped her gain confidence when talking. Reader is talking abt something she loves and az is stressed and tells her to shut up and hurts reader alotttt but….. we can’t have a sad ending, fluff and cuddles after :)) “

"Keep going." He encouraged with a smile, his shadows tickling your cheek. It made you shy away, but you continued your story anyway. The book's pages didnt tremble when you held them anymore. You could see the pride shining from him with every new paragraph you read aloud.

Reading was always step one of your consulting with him. It opened the connection you shared with him and his past. The poems or stories were never too long, but always held some significance to either of you. Usually the ones he read when you took turns were about darkness, or fire. Never about the hostility of others and the cruelty of nature. Nature was a relief to him in his past. In yours it was a punishment.

Your families last words to you were as brutal as they had been your entire life. "Leave and dont come back." with nothing more than a satchel of silvers and coppers, you had no other choice than to fight to survive against the cold of winter court. Then you started travelling, far and wide. Until you met Az.

The rest didn't matter after you met him. He was yours, and yours his. And that was the only thing you needed from then on. His chosen family welcomed you in with a loving embrace. and you learned a new kind of love. One full of understanding and patience.

you finished your poems together and talked as long as you could before he got called away to a meeting with the high lord. You assumed it was about the forces to the east as he had mentioned earlier that week. But you left him to it, not wanting to have him more stressed than he'd already been about the threat that week.

+ You rejoined him again in his room. You'd made both of you a cup of tea for winding down. He didn't take it when you offered, so you set it down on one of the few empty spaces on the enormous table in his room. He seemed flustered, poring over the map on his table beside a half polished sword. The dark marks under his eyes indicated another rough night. "You should rest." You said softly. He didn't move. Didn't even tear his eyes away from the map.

You stared at it with him, noting the natural limitations of troop movements. "You could get Illyrians to fly over..." You suggested, but to no response. Nerves twisted your gut. Whatever had him in such a locked state was something you likely should be worried about as well.

His cold stare was like the one he wore on the battlefield. Some internal blocking to cope with the horror. You noted the worn book under his clenched fist. One of the ones he'd read from before. Many of its verses were about a quality of males, the infamous duality of man. How precious life was in the balance of good and evil.

You saw the doubt there in his eyes then. The anger, the guilt of everything he'd ever done in his centuries of life. The blood spilled, the words that left people broken that could never be taken back.

You desperately wanted to snap him out of his dismal state. You pulled at his arm, trying to get him to break the lock he had on the corner of the map. He didn't budge. Frustration began building deep inside you. You knew he wouldn't let you sit in silence like this. What would he do for you?

You picked up an indicator from the map, and spun it. "Az, staring will not help it. You need rest." He was locked in though, in a trance almost. The concern pushed harder into you. Were you to get Rhys? You'd never seen Az so... cold before. With you he was always a welcoming open lover. Never this... closed off.

His shadows slowed, but he didn't move. his eyes scanned the paper from up to down, over and over again. You rubbed your eyes. "When I was small, I would stay up late reading. Very late. My family would-"

"Just shut up for two seconds, I'm trying-" He sighed, his face going red. The fist on the book curled around it's spine. Whit knuckles bulging out.

You blanched and stepped back. Stunned at the aggressiveness of his words. He finally looked away, his mouth pinching into a thin line at the sight of your wide eyes. He abandoned the table finally, and reached for you. His scarred hands trembled slightly. The tiredness left his features. Only regret was left there.

You didnt know what to do. Your mind raced with the rejection. The aggression of his words. You turned and strode out of the room, shaken.

+ He found you deep in the library after giving you a few to cool down. Giving himself the verbal lashing of a lifetime. That accompanied with Clotho's harsh glare.... he didn't know if he'd ever live the words down.

He approached you slowly. As if he were approaching a spooked animal. "I'm fine." You announced. And truly, you were. You had gone to the library because it was a safe spot for you, where you could practice your breathing alone.

You knew he didn't mean to hurt you. You knew he'd had a rough week. It wasn't an attack against you. You told yourself those affirmations over and over but they still didn't fully settle you. His presence was unmistakable. You knew he'd been beating himself up over the harsh words too.

That didn't make you feel better though. You gave him a slight nod and he took the seat across from where you were curled up. You hoped he didn't notice the red spottiness of your cheeks, or the way your eyes were red rimmed. By the tension in his body though, you knew he saw through your act.

He sat at the edge of the lounge chair across from you. His looked absolutely ragged. His hair was a mess, the dark circles were back under his eyes that held all the regret in the world. "I am so sorry." He started, those dark brown eyes boring into yours. "I will never do anything like that again. I promise. I am so sorry." He continued, wringing his hands. "I dont know why I -"

"Stop..." You said, voice shaking. He obeyed, and tried to hide his own emotion. "Just.." You sighed, walked around the small table separating you and took his hands, wrapped them around your middle and sat in his lap. He held you, rocked with you while you took in his scent. The mix of it with the smell of the books was like a heavy blanket over you.

You didn't remember him taking you back to your room. But when you woke, there was a cool glass of water on the bedside table with a fresh vase of flowers. Az quietly snored beside you, blanket pulled up to his chin.

You took a sip of the water and returned to him, wrapping yourself around his wings and sharing your body heat together in the cool room. He muttered once you settled. One small movement of his lips. "Love you..."

#reader x azriel #azriel x reader #acotar fic #i msorry if this one sucks I cant really see az ever loosing his cool

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levi-ish · 3 years

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Enough is Enough | Jean Kirstein

Summary: It took you three years, three years avoiding something that was bound to happen; something he truly wanted to pretend would never happen. Three years after going on and off with him to finally break you, to the point that you were in the same spot you found yourself every week, on Jean’s chest, crying until your eyes were dry and your throat was burning from the inside out.

Pairing: Jean X Reader

Genre: [+18] angst, smut

Warnings: manipulation, cheating

Masterlist

“Enough is enough.”

It took you three years, three years avoiding something that was bound to happen; something he truly wanted to pretend would never happen. Three years after going on and off with him to finally break you, to the point that you were in the same spot you found yourself every week, on Jean’s chest, crying until your eyes were dry and your throat was burning from the inside out.

He never complained. He would always open the door for you to come in and lay all your sorrows onto him, crying while stuffing your mouth with ice cream and cheap wine until you felt sick, the same routine every time, like it was scheduled. Jean liked to joke about you being his own thunderstorm, that came around and shook everything up — but in truth, it was because you were a mess that was destroying everything around you.

He never complained. He would put you to bed after getting sick because of all the alcohol in your system, give you aspirins and water to make you feel better the next morning, give you the best duvet, the fuzzy one so you would feel better while cuddling it and leave the room all to yourself. He didn’t want to intrude, but would check on you every 30 minutes, to make sure you hadn’t thrown up all over the place.

He never complained. He didn’t mind that he had the work next morning, or that he had classes earlier the day, because it took only one smile from you and he was done for the week.

It would take only a smile and you were gone, as if you were never there in the first place, back in some guys arms again as you held the same genuine smile. As if you were meant to be there in the first place.

It took you three years to admit that you were broken.

For years Jean secretly hoped you would realize how bad you were hurting yourself, fingering your own wounds like it was pleasurable. Playing in your own blood as guys threw themselves upon you, offering amazing things, like you were a shiny new toy that became dull overnight.

But then, three years ago, you were introduced to his friend group, in a house party that was too big for you two, almost overbearing, and when Jean went to grab you a drink, a knight in a shining armor introduced himself as Eren, and suddenly, things changed—

—for the worse.

Eren was the same, but he held his face high, his ego above his head as he spoke to anyone. You’d get that feeling of comfort instantly, as if he was your soulmate or whatever, and that was the problem — that he was able to make you his as soon as he landed his eyes on you.

You told Jean yourself about the things you would hear: ‘you’re perfect’, ‘I’m yours’, ‘we are meant to be’, ‘you can trust me’; and all that repeated itself whenever he fucked up. And he did. Real bad.

He never bothered to make it official, he knew he had you on his feet, worshiping his every movement and serving as a rug for him to step on without care. He would hook up with random girls at parties, bars, places where you could watch from afar and suffer from the same heartbreak. But as soon as he was done, he would go back to you, hold your hands and make you feel as though you were to blame for his actions, and that taking him back was the best you could do.

And that sickened Jean.

It wasn’t because he was in love with you, no, but because he couldn’t stand to watch you break your face every time and collect your pieces to glue them back, hoping they would stay the same. He knew how bad it hurt you, and how bad it felt to feel unrequited. He just wished things were different.

So he did the same thing he would do every time you came; he put on the same old mask and held you tight in his arms as you cried deeply.

But this time, it wasn’t like the others.

You looked up from hiding in his chest, eyes teary and reddening from all the crying as you both laid on the floor, only supported by each others bodies. You had this angry rush going through your veins and being explicitly shown in your gaze, but there was something soft inside, something like peaking curiosity, like there was something you weren’t all that sure that moment.

“Enough is enough” you said as you stared right into his soul. Jean was confused, he had never seen this look, this thundering inside your orbs, like something was about to breakthrough and leave a mess behind. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Jean put one of his hands on your cheek, wiping the running tears from your face with his thumb and you leaned into his palm, now holding his wrist with your two hands, eyes never leaving him.

“Take me, Jean. Please” you pleaded as her nails dug into his skin, and now he was more confused than ever. His blood rushed through his veins faster than before and he swore that his muscles would burn his skin apart.

Wha—

“Make me forget” you moved her fingers to his face, holding his jaw in place and sniffing, containing your tears so they wouldn’t fall once more.

“I-I can’t!” He managed to say, shaking his head, and holding your forearms. “You’re blinded by the sadness, I—”

“I know what I want!” you stated, your tone was firm and self-assured, making every hair on his body stand as your eyes shot bullets through his. “I need you, Jean. You’re the one. I know you’ll make it all go away.”

You didn’t give him any warnings before connecting your lips. It was everything he ever imagined and more; the softness, the velvety tongue, the way your rhythm seemed to match his as you both held onto each other like your lives depended on it. He almost went crazy when your fingers started to explore his honeyed strands, holding his head in place while you commanded every move.

Jean snapped out of his trance and put his hands on your back, grasping your body with such tightness, as if you would run away, but the way your mouths danced together, it made him feel calmer about his fears and give in.

He loved the way you made he feel, as you praised him with cold fingertips and gave him truth in your comfort with every peck, butterfly touches flew through his skin while your whimpers began to grow. His arms hugged your small form as you climbed on his thighs to straddle him, shooting goosebumps on the poor man.

You leaned back for a moment, watching his moonlit face as his lips were covered in a shiny gleam, the same as yours. His hands moved to your waist, grabbing the fat there and massaging just above the bone as you took off your jacket without breaking eye contact, heading to the t-shirt you were wearing.

He didn’t want to look down, not wanting to disrespect you in any form, until you guided his big hands to your bare breasts, feeling the hotness of his palms as he grabbed them gently. You threw your head back slightly, letting out a soft hum and grinding slowly, making small groans form deep in his throat.

Jean gave you one small look to make sure you were consenting and dove into your skin, his hot mouth engulfing your nipples, giving the same treatment to each of them, rounding the little erect nub with his tongue. He had never been so close to you, and for years that had been the thing he wanted the most, so he made sure to enjoy while it lasted; he wanted you to feel how much he had wanted you.

You held onto his hair as you threw your head back, savoring each of the new sensations you got to experience that moment. He licked a path to your neck, feeling your heartbeats on the tip of his tongue and giving the sweet spot you held there open mouth kisses, praising with silent movements.

He trailed a way back to your lips, mouth ghosting over your sensitive skin until he found his desired destination. You welcomed him back there, holding his face as his hands were firm on your hips, guiding your every move as you felt him growing more and more by the time.

It took a little while for you to decide that it was enough and you stood, unbuttoning your pants and kicking them aside, rushing back to the mess of a man she’d let on the floor. Jean unbuckled his belt quickly as you found yourself sitting back on his lap, giving desperate pecks to his lips as he had pushed his clothes just enough to spring his hot member free.

The darkness and desperation didn’t allow you to stare for too long, quickly moving your panties to the side and sliding down on his shaft, a long mewl leaving your lips as he groaned into yours. From half-lidded eyes, you studied his expression; he had his brows furrowed and held his lower lip between his teeth, his hands gripping back on your thighs as you moved slowly.

It felt amazing, he loved how hot and wet you were, how desperate your hands tried to grab everything they could find, just so they could hold onto your desires. He loved the way your breaths came together as one and how hot the room around him felt. He loved how your nails dug onto his skin, making sure the half-crescents would be stained there the next day. But most of all, he loved how you’d chosen him to bless with your body and soul, and how connected he felt to you.

And oh, the way you moaned his name over and over as you felt him filling you up so good, he swore that was the sight that he wanted for the rest of his life.

“Ngh, Jean” you pleaded, a series of whimpers leaving your mouth. “I’m cumming.”

He held onto you tighter now, feeling the heat that pooled in his lower stomach now rush to his cock, hands going up and down your back as you got off from the closeness and hot breaths. Your grip turned stronger on his shoulders and you buried your face in the nape of his neck, moans now clearer and a mess of words falling from your mouth.

But there was one thing that he heard in the brim of the moment, that stuck onto him and was now the reason of his climax.

“I’m yours.”

You kept on repeating those words amongst sweet nothings in his ear, like a little devil trying to manipulate your thoughts, and then, you two had reached your highs, left dozing off on the wooden floor of his apartment.

It made him the happiest, to take you over and over, all night long, eyes craving into each others as the melodies of your mewls were the only things in his mind. He praised you all night long with his mouth, his cock, his body, and soul, making sure you knew you were loved and wanted the way you’d always wanted to be.

And then it was morning, and as soon as the sunlight hit Jean’s eyes, he knew it had to be a dream, a reality that would’ve only mattered to him. He turned to the side to find the empty bed, thrown covers as if you’d left in a hurry, not bothering to say goodbye, not bothering to leave behind his beating heart, his whole soul that was handed to you the night before.

Not even a note.

He would sight, feeling the emptiness rush back into his chest as he grabbed his phone, seeing that Eren had uploaded a new story, and he had the feeling he knew what it was already. And there it was, only a picture of your legs on his bed, and it was enough for him to know that he had helped you feed your lie.

You were a thunderstorm after all.

It took you three years to realize that you were stuck in something you’d gotten yourself into. And it took you one night to ruin him completely.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #eren yeager #eren jeager #eren x reader #jean smut #jean kirstein smut #aot #attack on titan

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hookingminor · 3 years

Text

invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,” he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #my writing #avs8

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floral-force · 3 years

Text

Knight in Beskar Armor: Chapter 1

Audience with a Hunter

words: 2.9k

series master list | read on ao3

“Wake up, Princess! You have a long day ahead of you.”

The familiar voice of your maid drifted into your ears, waking you from your slumber. You groan and open your eyes, then hiss and recoil when the bright Coruscant sunlight hits your tired eyes.

“Maker, Nelly! Did you have to open the curtains all the way?” You growl, your voice hoarse. You tug your bedsheets over your head and groan again, even though you know Nelly won’t give in to your fit.

There’s a soft thump and you feel weight tug down on your mattress by your feet. A sigh follows, and you can picture how Nelly must look—forehead wrinkled, pinching the bridge of her nose, thin lips pursed—as she tried to find a solution to your stubbornness. Silence envelopes both of you; all you can hear is a lone morning bird chirping faintly outside as you wait for her to respond. You slowly peek out from the sheets and see Nelly perched on the end of your bed, the morning light highlighting the lines on her face and making her frustration into a divine portrait like that of a saint.

And if anyone was a saint, it was Nelly. She had been your nursemaid initially and then remained your maid after you refused any other nanny or maid presented to you. Nelly was there when you were brought into the world, and she was there for your first words and steps. Nelly kissed your childhood wounds and dressed them with gentle hands, whether it was bandaging a scrape on your knee or holding you after you overheard your parents arguing. Nelly guided you through your anxieties about womanhood and all that it brought with it, physically and mentally. She was the one who helped you accept your future role as Queen of Naboo.

You slowly sat up and reached out to touch her hand where it was resting on her lap. She heard your movement and looked at you, and you could have sworn you saw a weariness in her eyes that you hadn’t seen before. She took your hand and squeezed it, smiling weakly.

“Oh, Nelly, forgive me. I—”

“Hush, Princess. I know you have been anxious about this day for a long while now,” She squeezed your hand and leaned in closer to you. “I’m sure it didn’t help that I let the sun blind you.”

You chuckled. “Not really. But I’m more awake now.”

Nelly rose, outstretching her other hand to you. You took it and she pulled you out of bed, just as she had always done since you were a toddler. You were a bit taller than the short maid, but not enough that she had to strain to look into your eyes; when Nelly kissed your forehead, you had to slightly tilt your head so her lips could meet your skin. The routine gesture was something you had never received from your own mother, and the more you reflect on it, the more you realize that Nelly provided the comforts your own mother could never give you.

“Let’s get you ready—you have a long day.”

You nodded and followed Nelly into your boudoir, then sat in front of your vanity and started fixing your hair as Nelly prepared water for you to rinse your face with. As your morning routine progressed, you felt yourself awaken more and more. While Nelly was tightening your corset and fixing your gown, you stared at yourself in the floor length mirror. You were then consumed by your own thoughts and anxieties, both about yourself and the day. You’d spent your entire life being prepared for your future, and now that it was approaching, you were terrified. All of Naboo would have its eyes on you, as would the other planets in the system. The weight of the kingdom would soon fall on your delicate shoulders.

The touch of cold metal around your neck snapped you out of your anxious trance, and you watched as Nelly placed a simple silver necklace around your throat, centering the modest teardrop diamond to fall right between your collarbones. It complimented your simple sapphire blue gown, the silver in the necklace matching the thin silver belt that accented your waist. The lace on the square neckline was the only detail you disliked about this gown; it made your chest itchy, and you had no way to relieve that itch until the end of the day. Flowing out under the belt in a centered upside-down V was a simple floral pattern embroidered in white. The hem of your gown had the same pattern, and you adored how delicate it looked.

Nelly carefully put a simple bandeau tiara on your head, making sure not to disturb the hair you had pinned back and away from your face in a simple low bun, a few pieces framing your face. In the center of the tiara was a gorgeous oval sapphire that perfectly matched the hue of your gown. You stepped into a pair of pointed slippers that matched your gown, finishing your daytime outfit.

You thanked Nelly, and the two of you left the boudoir and your chamber to walk to the garden for your breakfast. Whenever it was sunny, your palace staff knew to set your breakfast outside; you loved the way the garden looked in the morning, and it was your favorite place to be on the palace grounds. After a silent walk through the palace’s winding hallways, Nelly opened a door and you stepped outside and into the fresh Naboo air, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath through your nose, immediately feeling relaxed when you exhaled and opened your eyes. Nelly rubbed your back and guided you to where a mug of hot tea and warm food was waiting for you, your chair set to face the expanse of bright flowers and the lush foliage. You gave Nelly a kiss on the cheek, and she left you to enjoy your morning by yourself.

The morning was the only time you felt at peace. The nighttime was good; you were by yourself and could read by candlelight, stargaze on your balcony, relieve stress through pleasuring yourself, or you could put yourself to sleep with fantasies about a different life. The morning, however, never began with stress. The night was when you had to cope with the day’s stress, but the morning was when you enjoyed your last moments of peace before being subjected to whatever your day brought with it. There was beauty in these intimate and peaceful moments that were reserved purely for you, and they let you connect with yourself and clear your mind.

You listened to birds sing their morning ballad as you ate, the sun warming your skin. After you finished your meal, you sipped your tea and admired the flowers. You heard the door click open, and you recognized Nelly’s soft footsteps. She asked if you were finished, and when you nodded, she walked over to you and you stood, linked arms with her, and left your paradise for the confines of the palace.

“Nelly?”

“Yes, Princess?”

You looked down at the floor, watching it pass your feet as you gathered the courage to speak. “I-I’m nervous.”

You felt a tug when Nelly stopped walking, and you stopped as well, eyes still on the floor. Her free left hand cupped your cheek, and you lifted your eyes to look into her green ones. She was frowning, sad and concerned. It wasn’t pity—you knew Nelly didn’t pity you. It was the face of a mother worried for her child. Nelly had always told you she still saw you as the little girl she tended to, and you realized she must be a bit scared for your next chapter in life just like you. She breathed out your name, a soft motherly sigh, her thumb stroking your cheek.

“You are more than capable for this, for your new duties, for your life. All that is soon to come, you will handle with grace.” She smiled gently at you. “I know it.”

You smiled back at her, placing your hand over hers. “Thank you, Nelly.”

She simply smiled, dropped her hand, and you both started to make your way to the throne room, where your challenges would begin.

Upon reaching the throne room doors that were flanked by two knights on either side, Nelly unlinked your arms to turn and face you, and squeezed your hands. She rubbed your arms, centered your necklace and tiara, remarked your beauty, and then left you to finish her morning duties. You took a deep breath and nodded at the silent knights, letting them open the doors to where you’d be spending a majority of your day.

You saw your father and mother sitting at the very end of the elegant room, seated on ornate thrones atop a high marble platform that rose from the floor. Your feet gently tapped the ornate rug that stretched all the way from the doors to the foot of the platform’s marble steps, casting a shadow on it as sun poured through the arched windows on the east side of the room. Portraits of former Naboo monarchs lined the opposite wall, and as you approached your parents, your heart started beating faster. The royal blue banner of the Naboo crest behind your parents seemed more ominous than it had ever appeared to you before, and you tried your best to ignore it and focus instead on maintaining your posture and keeping your head lifted. Your parents could not see you stumble or slip up, especially today.

Finally, you reached them, and you gave them a deep curtsy, awaiting their words when you rose. Your mother seemed to be judging every aspect of your appearance, even if her gaze didn’t show it. You could see the wheels turning in her head, and you felt your mind begin to race with critiques about your body, the way your dress looked on you, your face, your hair…everything. You were brought back from your internal critiques when your father’s voice echoed through the hall.

“Daughter,” he gestured to the empty throne at his right side. “Come. Sit.”

You obeyed, feeling like a village dog after your father’s commands. Every day, you hope he’ll ask about your morning, or how you’re feeling, or even just smile at you. You read once that insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting a different result. Maybe you were a fool for hoping your father would finally show you a tiny bit of affection, but the small girl within you constantly hoped for it.

He didn’t have to tell you what would be filling your morning; you’d sat through many audiences before. Commoners from all across Naboo entering the throne room, airing grievances, asking for help with their villages’ needs, some even sinking to their knees and begging for help with a dire situation. Over time, you’ve learned to suppress visible emotional responses, focusing instead on your father’s responses. Someday soon, it would be you making these decisions, speaking with your planet’s citizens, and you had to learn to put your emotional nature aside in favor of practicality and logic.

The morning turned into afternoon, and you felt yourself getting restless. Luckily, a recess was called, and you exited the throne room alone, walking to the gardens again. It was refreshing to step outside and breathe in the scent of flowers after spending hours inside a stuffy throne room. You walked along the path, meandering deeper into the gardens, brushing your hand against the flowers, grounding yourself with the touch of petals and leaves. Finally, you reached the pavilion, where you could get a clear view of Naboo’s gorgeous landscape beyond the gardens. You smiled, looking up from the flower bushes, and your breath hitched when you caught a glint of armor across the pavilion.

There weren’t normally knights here; why was he here? However, he couldn’t be a knight, he wasn’t wearing the same armor that Naboo’s Royal Guard donned. You took a slow step back, suddenly aware of every breeze and every pebble under your slippers. He seemed to be staring directly at you from across the pavilion, and even though his face was hidden by his helmet, you could feel his gaze piercing you. It unnerved you, and you felt your blood freeze. Your backward steps picked up in speed until you turned around entirely, nearly jogging to get away from the unknown knight.

When you were approaching the marble patio, you noticed a glass of water and a plate of fruit, cheese, and biscuits were left out for you. Scared that the knight was following you, you scarfed it all down, and then hurried inside back to the throne room. You had never wanted to be stuck in a stuffy room with your parents before now, but it was only because some strange knight frightened you in your safest place in the palace.

The afternoon audience carried on in the same fashion as it did in the morning. This time, however, your father allowed you to respond to some commoners, adding on when he saw fit or deemed your response inadequate. Although he never addressed you or gave you explicit instructions or tips, you sensed that he was guiding you in the only way he knew how. You watched as candelabras and sconces slowly began to glow automatically, a product of your planet’s advanced technology. Finally, the herald called forth the last case, and you felt your heart stop.

It was him. He approached the platform, and as he came closer into view, you noticed his broad shoulders and the blaster holstered on his thigh, the ripped cape trailing behind him, and the signet on the right shoulder of his armor. You weren’t close enough to make it out precisely, but you were confident you didn’t want to ever be that close to him. He knelt when he reached the base of the platform, dropping his head.

“Rise, Mandalorian.”

Mandalorian. You remember reading about Mandalore during your lessons; you thought all remaining Mandalorians were either dead or hiding in the Outer Rim. You felt silly for not realizing the stranger was a Mandalorian—you should have remembered the distinct helmet style from your readings. In fairness, you were frightened and not paying attention to detail, just on putting distance between you and the ominous stranger.

Your father continued after the Mandalorian rose to his feet, his gaze now directed at your father. “I trust you bring news on your latest quarry?”

“Yes,” the Mandalorian said, his voice modulated through the helmet. “The quarry is outside of this room.”

Your father nodded. “Very well. Sir Morn, give the Mandalorian his pay.”

The Calamari treasurer appeared seemingly out of nowhere—he must have entered the room at some point, and you didn’t notice it because your entire body was frozen on the Mandalorian—and presented the Mandalorian with a bag of credits. He pulled them out, examining them in his gloved hands. Maker, your father paid the Mandalorian handsomely; at least 500 credits were in that bag. Satisfied, the Mandalorian cinched the bag closed, and Sir Morn walked away.

“Mandalorian, I have a proposition for you.”

“If it’s another quarry, you know what my answer will be,” he stated, tucking the bag away in a satchel at his hip.

“Join my Guard.”

Your eyes widened and your head snapped to your father, who had a straight face, his chin lifted. He was exuding confidence, but it terrified you. He was crazy to believe a Mandalorian would join the Royal Guard.

Without hesitation, the Mandalorian replied, “I work for no one.”

“I already reward you for hunting the threats to Naboo.” The king shrugged, resting his elbow on the throne’s armrest. “Why not make it official?”

The Mandalorian’s helmet turned slightly to the right. Was he intrigued? You couldn’t tell. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you waited for his modulated response.

“I refuse to ‘officially’ work for anyone. This is The Way.” The Mandalorian’s words sent a chill across your skin, and you felt the tension in the throne room increase.

Your father sat back in his throne, nodding. “Very well. In that case, I suppose we shall continue to conduct business as we have been.”

The Mandalorian nodded, and turned to walk away, but your father’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“But Mandalorian, seeing as this quarry was particularly difficult—I’ve fought plenty of those wretched Barabels in my time—I welcome you to rest in my palace tonight.” He paused, then added, “I can also see to it that my bay crew fix your ship.”

The Mandalorian paused, considering the deal. “No droids.”

Your father smiled. “Of course.” He rose, and you and your mother followed suit, trailing behind him as he descended the steps to meet the Mandalorian. “I’ll have one of my stewards show you to your chamber for the night.”

As you exited the throne room with your parents and the Mandalorian, your mind was racing, still terrified, but now you were…intrigued. Your curiosity was getting the better of you, turning your fear into stupid interest in the mysterious Mandalorian.

When the steward led the Mandalorian down the hall, you could have sworn he was staring directly at you, eyeing you up like one of his bounties.

#mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian fanfic #mando x you #mando x reader #mando x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fic #mando fanfiction #slow burn mando

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yumeyooa · 3 years

Text

hopelessly in love | sakusa kiyoomi

—sakusa’s got a secret: he’s a hopeless romantic; and it’s all thanks to you.

➢ pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x gender neutral! reader

➢ word count: 1.9k+

➢ warning: nothing major :>>

➢ love letter: this was supposed to be a short timestamp but it became a full blown drabble i-- T_T. i absolutely live for the trope wherein kiyoomi is a loving soft person once he’s comfortable so i just indulged myself IM SORRY i hope y’all like it and let me know what you think <33

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Not many people know this, but Sakusa Kiyoomi is a hopeless romantic.

It’s a secret he likes to keep to himself, afraid that if it were to fall on the ears of another, he would never be able to live it down. More so if it were the rowdy bunch he calls a team. He was sure that Atsumu, that insufferable idiot, would tease him for it every chance he got should he have known.

Which was why he keeps it discreet, hiding his wishes and desires behind a cold facade that warranted others to believe that he was anything but hopelessly in love with the idea of romance.

Well, everyone except for you.

The chimes of the bell ring as Sakusa enters your quiet bookstore just ten minutes away from his home. For the longest time, Sakusa had always loved books. They allowed him to indulge in his romantic fantasies without being so overtly apparent to the prying eyes of the world.

“Ah, Kiyoomi! Welcome back!” Like milk and honey, your voice greets him as he enters the place he had considered a paradise for the past two years. You stand up from where you sat on your desk, glasses perched atop your head as you give him a warm smile, causing a fuzzy feeling to grow in his chest.

You and Sakusa go way back, all the way to your days as a book-loving library assistant and a covert volleyball fanatic (not that Sakusa would ever admit it, but you knew better). The two of you had been classmates all throughout your high school journey, and Sakusa considered you to be one of the closest friends he had, even to this day. After all, as time has proven, nothing between the two of you has changed.

Sakusa greets you with a nod, although there’s still a kind glint in his eyes that makes you grin. As a man of few words, Sakusa’s emotions reigned supreme in the hidden crevices of his actions. Sometimes it’d take an expert or a long-time friend to even notice those tiny nuances. However, you had known Sakusa for years. It practically came like second nature to you at this point.

He sets down the book he bought from his last trip-- a translated copy of The Fault in Our Stars. There’s a determined gaze in his eyes as he softly nudges the book to you, and you try to hide your desire to coo at him, waiting for him to speak with a patient smile.

“This,” he finally says, averting his eyes. He was still embarrassed to admit he enjoyed romantic novels, even if it was in front of you. “Are there any more books like this?”

“Plot-wise? Or do you want something from the same author?” You ask curiously, already making your way around the counter to face Sakusa. He looks at you with a shy glance before mumbling “Author,” and you smile once more, gesturing to the tall player to follow you down the aisles.

“Here you go!” You say, handing him a few fresh translated copies of Paper Towns and Looking for Alaska. “These just came in the other day. You’re pretty lucky, Kiyoomi!”

“Thanks,” he mutters as he grabs the books from you gently, fingers hovering over the cover as his heart pumps with excitement at the thought of unwinding himself to another fantastic story. The last one had him hooked until the end, and he had broken his carefully crafted sleep schedule just to finish it. He couldn’t wait to dive into a whole new world waiting for him within the pages of these books.

But most of all, he couldn’t wait to talk about them with you.

With a knowing smile, you quickly usher Kiyoomi into your back office, knowing that the counter wouldn’t need you for a while. No one else would come to your store at 1 in the afternoon, except for the old lady that came by every so often, but she could wait.

“Here,” you say as you hand Kiyoomi a warm cup of tea. “Freshly brewed, just for you!” Kiyoomi smiles, although you don’t see it as it’s hidden by his mask. He removes his mask, placing it gently into the ziplock he had brought with him before grabbing hold of the mug you had specially reserved for him and taking a sip.

It was soothing and relaxing, just the way he liked it. He can feel his muscles relax as he leans back into his chair, sighing in bliss as he closes his eyes. “You like it that much?” You ask with a giggle, setting down a plate of cookies you had bought from the bakery across the street.

“Of course,” he replies, watching as you take a seat in front of him, taking a cookie to eat. “There’s nothing like your tea, you know that.”

Of course, you did. For the past two years, ever since you and Sakusa had rekindled your friendship and had begun to meet up regularly, you had been brewing him a cup of warm tea. It wasn’t meant to be a habit, but somehow it became that way ever since the first time Sakusa had decided to open up and rave about romance novels with you.

You remember the first time it happened. Sakusa had dropped by for a surprise visit after the two of you bumped into each other on a trip to the supermarket earlier that day. You mentioned that you ran a bookstore, but you never expected him to show up to it. It was a pleasant surprise, one that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

He had asked for a book recommendation, not knowing how else to reignite that connection you two had back in high school. He remembers the days where he used to escape to the library, and you’d keep him company, rambling on and on about the books you were sorting out and how much you loved them.

Those were the most enjoyable times throughout Sakusa’s high school life, and how he wished to reclaim those memories and renew them once more now that you were adults.

That day, you had recommended him to read Pride and Prejudice, to which Skausa initially grimaced, remembering how much he had hated the book back then when he was younger. But with your encouragement, he had decided to purchase it without giving it any thought until he finally read it on his rare day off.

And to say he was floored would be an understatement.

“Incredible,” he had mentioned to you, in a frenzy the next day, returning to your store like a man who had just been shown the truth of the universe. “Utterly Amazing!”

“Sakusa?” You had called back, confused at his sudden behavior. From your puzzled expression, Sakusa finally snapped out of his senses and cleared his throat, embarrassed at his sudden outburst.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, averting his gaze. “It’s fine,” you say, reassuringly gesturing him to follow you to the back office that would soon become a special hangout place for the two of you.

“What was it you were talking about?” You ask as you prepare your first-ever cup of tea for him (the first of many). At your question, Sakusa perks up, grabbing the book he had purchased from his bag and setting it down on the table in front of him.

“This was incredible,” he reiterates, and you turn your head to see what he was talking about, only to nod in understanding. “How does one write love in such a compelling and enchanting way? It seems too good to be true. I can’t believe I didn’t appreciate this masterpiece back in high school.”

You laugh, setting down the cup of tea. It’s the first time you’ve seen Sakusa this expressive. It reminds you of back in the day, in those few moments where you would catch him in a rave about how fantastic volleyball was as you rearranged the science books on the shelves. It was in those moments that you found the usually quiet man quite charming.

“(Y/N)?” Sakusa asks, bringing you out of your trance. You look up at him, snapping out of your thoughts as you tilted your head in question. “You okay? You’ve been out of it for a few minutes.”

“Oh,” you giggle, realizing your mistake. “Sorry, Kiyoomi, I was just reminiscing about the past, that’s all. How did you find the book?”

“Heartbreaking.”

You blink, caught off guard by how blunt he was before letting out a hearty laugh, to which Sakusa frowns, not quite understanding why you were laughing. “What’s so funny?” He asks, a pout settling on his lips.

“Nothing Kiyoomi, It’s just, I didn’t expect you to say that so bluntly,” you say, wiping off the tears that had begun to form at the corner of your eye from too much laughter. “Continue.”

“You wouldn’t believe the number of times I cried while reading the book. How could John—whatever his name is—write something so heartbreaking and expect to get away with it?”

Your laughter rings through the room, and Sakusa can feel it tug on his heartstrings. He wasn’t one to express his thoughts out loud. But being around you just made him do it. You had this magic about you, something Sakusa couldn’t quite put his fingers on. Perhaps that was just your natural charm to draw people into your rhythm, and Sakusa wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Well, just wait till you read the other two. They’re both as equally amazing as the last one.” You say, gesturing to the books in front of Sakusa tenderly. “Are they just as heartbreaking?” He asks, already giddy with anticipation.

“Hmm, you’ll have to read to find out.” You tease, causing another pout to form on his lips as he groans, choosing to chug down the remainder of his tea.

The two of you continued your conversation, talking about anything and everything about your lives at the moment. Sakusa vented about their most recent game, which was a win for the team. However, he didn’t play as well as he wanted, which caused him to be benched for two sets. It was a low blow on his part, but he knew that with proper training and motivation, he could overcome it.

“Of course you can!” You said once he was done voicing out his doubts. “You’re the Sakusa Kiyoomi I know and love. Of course, you’re going to ace it!”

Your words cause Sakusa’s heart to skip a beat, trying to process what you had just said. Did you really love him? Was it in a platonic or more romantic way? Why did you have to say that? Don’t you know how much it drives Sakusa wild?

“Thanks,” is all he says, looking down to hide the blush that was beginning to form on his cheeks. Was this what all the books were telling him about? Was he slowly but surely falling in love with you? Because if he was, then Sakusa would wholeheartedly admit that this was the best feeling in the world.

Falling in love felt surreal.

As he leaves your store, two new books in hand, greeting you goodbye as you wave him off, Sakusa can feel the love in him continue to grow. He makes the short trip home, yet all he can do is think of you and how much you’ve become part of his life. You had wormed your way into his heart and made yourself stay, and honestly, Sakusa didn’t mind.

He was a hopeless romantic after all. And if this was the beginning of a life-changing love story with you by his side, then so be it.

He would fall until you’d catch him in your arms and love him until love could be no more. And would wholeheartedly do it all over again.

➢ general taglist (send an ask to be tagged!): @loveinhaikyuu @mirakeul

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #hq x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x you

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ellavogues · 3 years

Text

london sunrises - harry styles

summary: harry made you feel like home in a place far from it, but stupidly ruins it in fear of losing you

a/n: hey, second fic in two days! let me know your thoughtsss :) thanks for reading angels

Sometimes you wish you were seventeen again.

The carelessness, easy breezy lifestyle you lead was problematic and unproductive, but you never felt more free. Even now as an adult, unrestricted by menial rules made by your parents or your school, you don’t feel the same liberty as you felt when you were seventeen.

Maybe it was him that made you feel so free.

You met him at sixteen, when you moved countries from the USA to England. Originally pessimistic about the complete upheaval of your life, you took it upon yourself to not even try and socialise and familiarise yourself with people at your new school.

But one day, around a week after you moved, you were sat on the bus, headphones in your ear and gazing out the window as you waited for the bus driver to start the journey home, a brown, curly haired boy sat next to you, sporting a huge grin on his face.

“I’m Harry,” he introduced himself, extending his hand as if to ask you to shake it. “Mind if I sit here?”

You shake your head, “Yeah, go ahead. I’m Y/N.”

“You’re new, right? We’ve got homeroom and science together I think.”

He’s smiling the whole bus ride, cracking stupid jokes and telling stupid stories, right up until you get off at your stop. You’re smiling too, feeling grateful to have met a friend in this new place.

The next day, he sat next to you in homeroom and science, and you conversed as if you had known each other for years. He was just that easy to talk to, always able to quickly come up with a witty, smartass remark to whatever you may say and chuckling to himself when you get slightly irritated at his teasing. He noticed you sitting by yourself at lunch, and insisted you sit with him and his mates.

Over time, your friendship with Harry gradually and organically blossomed into something more. Worried that it was only a one-sided feeling, you kept it to yourself and put on a front when you were around him, attempting to veil your new-found feelings with excessive teasing and smart remarks at his expense. But keeping up appearances proved to be difficult as time progressed and the two of you got closer and closer and as he got to know you better, picking up on the way you deflect your emotions.

One night, after a lot of weed and talking, you both found yourselves on Harry’s roof, just above his window to his room. His parent’s room was thankfully on the other end of the house and given it being the early hours of the morning, they were surely asleep. At least you hoped they were, he did manage to make you laugh louder than you thought possible and you crossed your fingers that they didn’t hear the two of you. The night sky was full of stars, you remember, and you finally didn’t have a weight on your shoulders, finally comfortable enough to be your true, authentic self and genuinely happy for the first time since you moved. Neither of you realised how long you had been up there, talking, laughing, smoking, until little glints of orange light began peaking through the clouds in the sky, the birds starting to sing their morning songs. You were honestly disappointed that the memory was over, that the rare moment that you got to feel like yourself alone with Harry had come to its inevitable end.

It was hard making friends in a new city, but his cheeky grin made it so easy to be his friend.

The next time you went up there, you had your first kiss. It was like you thought it would be, your friends implanting in your mind that your first kiss is never as special as it is romanticised on film, but the kiss with Harry made butterflies swarm in your stomach, his soft lips feeling like the closest thing to home in this foreign city that with him you’ve grown to love. You later found out that it was his first kiss too, making the moment feel more special.

You were giddy again that night, but not because you had alcohol. A smile was stuck on your face with no setback being able to push you out of this happy trance. Harry loved seeing you happy, he loved the way your eyes got that little sparkle in them when you got all excited, a detail that no one else would be able to notice. He made you feel giddy in the best way possible, the feeling almost addicting. Dangerously, it seemed you had the same effect on him.

It seems for once the two of you were on the same page about your feelings, making a hopeful promise of what the future may hold

By the time you were seventeen, London sunrises on Harry’s roof after a long night of talking and weed have become a habit for the two of you. Something about being wrapped up in each other’s presence, in a space just for the two of you and distanced just enough from the world around you, is incredibly addictive. But the rays of sunlight pop the little bubble over you and Harry every time, though despite your disappointment of being brought back from your own perfect world where all you have and need is each other, you’re quick to get over it because it just means it’s time to climb back in his window and go to sleep in each other's arms.

All you had with him was friendship, but it felt like so much more than that. He gave you butterflies, he made you feel free and invited you to be a part of his world when you had no one. When you were with him, you had nothing to hide. He gave you this warm feeling that you had never felt before, a safe feeling. A feeling of home.

All you desperately wanted was to be more than friends, but you were simultaneously so scared of losing what you had with him. The love you had him was unfathomable, you couldn’t wrap your head around it and nothing made you more scared than losing him.

He was scared, too.

Despite being enlightened that your feelings were mutual, Harry couldn’t comprehend in his mind what you had, It didn’t make sense to him that you could love each other so deeply but not be together. He wanted to be mindful that you were heading in completely different directions in life, knowing your dreams of starting a startup and his dreams of having a career in music. He was scared that if you both wanted different things you’d lose each other forever. And he can’t lose you.

So he pulled away. He forgot to invite you to his X-Factor audition, making up some lame excuse that everything’s been so hectic and he knew how stressed you were about our own future. It hurt your feelings, because in spite of his carefully crafted excuses, you could tell he didn’t invite you on purpose.

It quickly became apparent that not inviting you wasn’t just a mistake, because he didn’t hold you safely and securely in his arms after you watched the sunrise anymore, kissing the back of your head as you fell asleep tangled in each other. He didn’t kiss you like he used to, no butterflies forming in either of your stomachs, his hand barely grazing your cheeks as he reluctantly connected your lips. Eventually he barely kissed you at all.

He wanted you so bad, but he wasn’t willing to lose you to get you.

But he pulled so far away that you were barely in sight anymore. He tried to convince himself it was for the best, because at least this way you’d always be on good terms and he’d always have you in his life. He’d always have a part of you. But he missed the smell of you in his sheets, he missed the way you rubbed your nose against his when you were sleepy. He missed making you laugh so hard that you were practically falling off the roof (not that he’d ever let that happen, you were too secure in his arms to even slip an inch.

He wanted all of you, the good, the bad, the ugly. He wanted to wake up and see the remnants of your makeup from the night before still on your face, your sleepy smile completing the look. More than anything, he wanted to have you as his, to announce to everyone that he finally got the girl.

You wanted him just as bad, but his distance hurt you more than you’d ever admit to him. Harry had always made you feel free, like you can have anything you could possibly want. That is, except for him.

That was the fucking catch. He gave you everything you could have ever wanted. You had the passion, the love, the sensitivity, the jokes. You had it all with him, except you never had him. That’s what sucked the most.

It wasn’t til graduation that you finally worked up the courage to put everything on the line. You went back with him to his house after everything with the school finished, him driving you because even after all this time, he absolutely never trusts your driving.

“We need to talk,” you start ambiguously.

He laughs, raising his eyebrows as he turns to you for a second, “Should I be scared?”

“Maybe,” you mumble back, anxious and growing fidgety in the seat next to him. Harry clocked this, his hand coming to rest over yours to calm your fidgets down. Glancing over at you briefly, the worry was evident in his features. “H, you’ve always brought out the best in me and made me feel special when I had absolutely no one. I didn’t need anyone else because your friendship, our relationship is all I’ve ever needed. I mean, we’ve dreamt about our futures while we were fucking high on your roof, but when I told you about what I want in my future, I never told you that I wanted you. You’re all I see when I see my life five years from now. You’re all I want, H.”

Harry goes unusually quiet, processing what you told him. It’s uncomfortable, usually by now he would’ve made some inappropriate joke, called you stupid or even just reacted in some way. It’s painful when he looks at you for a moment as he’s stopped as a stop light, and it’s blatantly obvious to you that he’s carefully considering what to say next.

“Y/N, you’re my bestfriend-“

“Fuck that,” you laugh dryly, unimpressed and masking your hurt with anger.

“Y/N-“

“No,” you raise your voice slightly. “I fucking get it. It’s fine. But I can’t be your friend, Harry. Fuck that. I want more than that.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” his voice is a whisper, tears beginning to form in his eyes before he roughly wipes them away, clearing his vision as he parks in front of his house and turns to meet your gaze. “I can’t lose you.”

“And I can’t be just your friend.”

This moment still replayed in your head like a broken record for years later.

Maybe you were stupid for letting him go, but you might’ve driven yourself insane if you were still his best friend after everything that you’ve been through together. It wasn’t sustainable for you to continue to just be there, waiting for him to decide that you’re what he wants or, scarily, sticking by him and watching him be with another girl. It would have ruined you to see him treat another girl the way you wanted him to treat you.

You ran into him when he was strolling London a few years later, on his rare day off from touring and concerts and meetings. Even though the run in was supposed to be short you got to talking and laughing and he saw that sparkle in your eye again, something that he hadn’t seen in years and something that made him feel at home. Old habits die hard, and you and Harry ended up staying up all night together, catching up. It felt like you were seventeen again, hopelessly and foolishly in love with a man you could never have.

Before you left the next morning, he grabbed your wrist, turning you to face him. “I have to see you again. Please, Y/N, don’t say goodbye forever.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, contented that after all these years apart, you finally have a part of him again. You always had a part of him, you just didn’t know it. “Take me to your album’s party tomorrow?”

And he did, picking you up sporting that grin that made you weak in the knees. He was proud, introducing you to his friends, showing you off on his arm. It felt right.

As the night started getting old, Harry laced his fingers in yours and led you out to the balcony, escaping the chaos and noise inside and making the world just about the two of you. Letting go of his hand, you stepped towards the railing and admired the view while Harry admired you, breath taken away as you turned your head back at him and smiled. Harry wondered how he ever let you go.

Tapping your shoulder gently, he prompts you to turn around to face him. His hand finds your cheek, tilting your face to face his and leaning in to kiss you, lips soft against yours and his free hand finding its home on your hip.

He finally felt like yours again.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic rec #harry styles smut

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gojology · 3 years

Text

Job Benefits. (Part 4)

❝...𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑶𝑵, 𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑻 𝑰𝑻 𝑶𝑼𝑻.❞

CONSPIRING. - Chapter Four

you can find part three here :

part three : routines

pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader warnings : cursing, no proof reading, no editing wordcount : 2494 a/n : this is so bad, i... i am so sorry. in my defense i haven’t written in a while, but i hope u guys still like this regardless </3

Almost immediately after stepping foot into the room, you’re greeted with a minimalist, yet clean looking interior. Large window panes with Tokyo’s beautiful sunlight filtering into the already lively room. There’s a few co-workers you can see sitting by the vending machines on plush arm-rest chairs, the cushions colored a beautiful tan alongside oak wood arm rests and chair legs. Others are on their phone, texting and furiously tapping and a feeling of anxiety immediately eats you up whole. You were seriously starting to regret coming down here, what was the point other then to make Gojo jealous? You could’ve very well eaten in your office- and what you were doing was childish anyways. You stood in the entrance way of the room, nervously fidgeting, eyes scanning for Keto Sugaeru amongst the faces that were starting to blend in. You can only vaguely remember how he looks like from the few visits he had made to Gojo’s office, jet black hair, usually tied in a bun, always a kind, yet careless smirk on his face. He was handsome, which would be a definitive beacon amongst the rather disgruntled looking office workers. “Hey, are you gonna move or what? Blocking the damn way.” You hear a gruff impatient voice behind you, and you twist around, stumbling with the newfound height of your high heels as you did so. A man’s eyes bored into your own, glaring at you with a mix of hatred and annoyance. You gulp, finding yourself unable to respond, instead averting your gaze to the floor meekly. “You gonna talk? We don’t have all day, sheesh, they’re hiring anyone into the workforce nowadays huh-” “I’m sorry- I uh, I’m r-really new here so...” modestly giving the man a kind smile, but he seemed to have no patience for you. As if a divine being heard his rude comment and immediately swept down with some karma, a firm, large hand is placed onto the man’s shoulder that you hadn’t seen prior. It gripped the flesh tightly, and the mysterious man glared directly down at the now squeaking rude one. “Did I hear that right?” is all he says, a few co-workers are twisting their heads towards the altercation, now you’re sweating bullets. You grip onto your lunch so tightly you’re afraid it might burst, and those incredibly long fingers of his are inching towards the stout man’s collar. Eventually, the perplexing man smiles kindly, retracting his hands to his sides, now lifeless and slack. “Please, Nishima, refrain from picking on people. We don’t tolerate this in the office, and don’t be dumb enough to do it in front of someone who has direct connections to the Gojo family. Run along now, I’ll leave you off at a warning. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” The man grumbled a few times, kicking at the floor before heading out, you turn your head to thank the man, looking at him with an admirable gaze, but you realize something- He has the jet black long hair you were searching for before any of this happened, it’s tied up in a bun, and it looked ridiculously smooth and soft. Something you’d pay to drag your hands through and play with. He has that carefree grin displayed on his handsome features, shamelessly showing off his good looks. Tall, and he definitely had a familiar voice that took you a while to put a finger on it. This had to be him. “You frozen girlie? I haven’t seen you around in the lunch room- here go sit there, that seat’s super comfy.” he gestures to one chair, and you snap out of your trance, nodding in response, yet still unable to fully register what just happened to you. “Sugaeru?” you blurt out, your eyes wide while stumbling like a just born fawn towards the spotless table. How good was your luck today? He came to you. “Suguru.” he corrects, looking back at you, a teasing curve to his lips. “Holy, you completely butchered my name, I think I know you from somewhere-” for a second, he looks like he’s seriously thinking before he beams. “You’re Gojo’s secretary, Y/N, aren’t you? What brings you down here? Gojo told me that you’re usually reserved in your own little world and you do everything in your office.” You stammer, still unable to believe your luck, but your shoulders are relaxing and the tension has completely evaporated into thin air. “Uh, yeah I’m Satoru’s secretary. I- Um, I wanted to... Get some water?” that was a horrible lie, even for you. “Rookie mistake.” Suguru pulls out the aforementioned chair for you before walking to the other side of the table to place his lunch on the tabletop carefully. “Water here is super overpriced. You should bring some from your own house if that’s the case! Colleague to colleague, just don’t tell anyone I said that, or else I’ll get in trouble.” winking at you, he twists the lid to his container presumably holding his food, instantaneously a cloud of steam emerges and a delicious scent wafts through the room. After a moment of silence between the two of you as you both opened your lunches, you clear your throat, meaning to make conversation. “Thank you for saving me back there.” sheepishly, you smile at him. “It’s really appreciated, I just couldn’t believe how rude a person could be, especially since u-uh... You know, he could’ve, like, just walked around me?” stuttering, you grab your utensils in an effort to look relaxed and comfortable, even though you had no idea how to speak to him. “Atta girl, no problem.” he responds warmly. You feel safe in his shadow. “Hey, if your Gojo’s friend, you’re my friend. Don’t worry about it. I heard you’re new to the office.” he pauses, looking around the now bustling room before covering the sides of his mouth and whispering towards you. “Secretary position was open for a while because no sane person in Tokyo wants to be Gojo’s secretary.” sitting back down while snickering, he takes a bite out of his lunch. Giggling, you finally ease up. As opposed to Gojo, Suguru’s more sincere and straight to the point. He’s funny in his own way without being obnoxious. You scoff. “Yeah, I can see how anyone could go insane from working with the guy. It was the only good secretary position open, though...” you muse aloud. Suguru crosses his arm over his chest, your eyes carefully surveying his attractive figure as he does so, a thoughtful smile on his face. “Well, imagine being friends with him for more than 15 years. I’m sure I’ve gotten a few screws loose.” he says suggestively, wriggling his eyebrows. You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh- but it just spills out of your lips, and you forget that you just met the guy, that’s just how friendly he was. “Don’t say that!” “What? It’s true!” You didn’t quite know it just that, but a seed was planted that day- you and Geto’s relationship, and it would only blossom from there. ‧₊˚✩彡. Gojo’s paranoid. It seems like there’s a secret that he’s not in on, he realizes that Geto’s visits to his office are growing more and more frequent, yet he spends less time at his office, rather, spends all of his time at yours. Feeling left out was never a positive emotion. In response, Gojo would increase his visiting between the two of you, “accidentally” walking in on the both of you casually chatting, but it’s like he’s a ghost in the room. He’d get a few lukewarm stares and a few polite greetings, but that was that. He’s not sure if it’s jealousy, or what. He knows he should be supportive of his best friend potentially getting a girlfriend, and he tries to be- but something about Geto and you together really pissed him off, he just doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the way the pairing between you two seemed so natural, it would be almost sure that a relationship would occur soon that angered him. Having dating co-workers was almost never a good thing. Deep down he knows that’s not it. As the weeks past by, the visiting grew almost unbearable, hearing your laughter- your giggles- from jokes that weren’t from him was infuriating. Listening to the repetitive clicking of your heels down the stairs into the break room was driving him insane, and eventually he can’t even open an email or do anything involved with work. You and Geto were constantly on his mind, and he’s morbidly curious as to when the friendship occurred- or if it was possibly more than that. His first attempt at getting to the bottom of things was bringing it up between the two of them, him and Geto, just as casual chit-chat, but it didn’t go exactly as planned. Geto would have a sympathetic, almost mocking grin on his lips, but those eyes of his were telling enough. It was a whole other book of lust and need, for you. Brushing the topic off with a wave of dismissal, he’d chuckle and put a mask of friendliness on, but Gojo’s known Geto enough to see where this was going. He couldn’t have this, everything was brought to him on a silver platter, so it was only natural for him to feel like he needs you, even if he didn’t. Perhaps you were another trophy to his endless collection to him, he just didn’t know. He’d never felt so strongly of a woman, much less his secretary, something was brewing inside of him. One thing he doesn’t understand is why Geto. He’s flawless in appearance, restless, impossibly good at sex, why weren’t you stroking his ego? Whatever, this was another topic of conversation, what he needed to do now was win you back. He calculated in his office the average time in which Geto would visit, music drowning out the muffled talking, and finally he’s ready and absolutely certain that this would be a good time to chat you up. Having everything planned out, an aura of confidence radiated from him. “Y/N!” you hear a chirp from the door, lifting your head up in excitement, you realize it’s not your beloved Suguru, rather, it’s Gojo. Gluing your eyes back on your computer screen, not even bothering to peel them away, you clear your throat in acknowledgement. “Sir?” A smug grin flickers across his face for just a second before he pulls out one of the chairs across from your desk, scooching it a bit further away for some extra leg room before promptly sitting down. “Knew you’d remember to call me sir, I knew I hired well when you stepped into the interview room, so sharp.” You don’t detect a shred of sarcasm in his compliment, and finally you turn your gaze upon his face. This was certainly out of the ordinary for you, as he hadn’t visited as often with Geto in the picture now. Gojo’s not wearing the iconic black shades that concealed his cerulean eyes, now, they’re out for you- his private audience. His eyes are brimming with energy and mischief, almost like a child’s. They’re transfixing, like diamonds handpicked and placed into his eyes. You’re overwhelmed from your work once again- a direct consequence of Gojo neglecting his own, yet something about this greeting reminded you of one of the first few times he had visited you, when he stole your carrot pen. Thus, causing you to direct your undivided attention towards him, he seemed promising, after all, what was the worst that could happen? “That’s besides the point, Mr. Satoru. Is there any reason why you came here? I’m actually finishing up a report right now and the deadline is in two days.” taking your coffee mug up from it’s usual spot on the tabletop, you sigh in relief as the warm liquid goes down your throat and set it back down, anticipating his answer. In usual fashion, Gojo chuckles good-heartedly. “It’s your fourth month anniversary you’ve been working here, or third, or second, fuck like I remember. This is a cause for celebration and you’re worrying about finishing up a report?” “You’d know better then to come to me with an offer of slacking off if you knew my fourth month anniversary of working here was coming up.” you respond coolly. His eyes slightly widen, before he lets out a dry chuckle. “Ah, I missed my sassy secretary, say, why don’t we celebrate? We can go out for a staff dinner in celebration. I’ll pay, no need to worry. It’ll be confidential information between the two of us.” tugging at his collar, he quirks an eyebrow, you’re visibly thinking. “Does this imply you want this dinner to only be between the two of us? Why’s that?” you pry, a tinge of hesitance in your pitch. Ah, shit. This was going off the tracks. Gojo taking a hand to his chest defensively, he loudly announced, “It’s important to build a positive connection between the two of us! We’ll be working together for years to come, of course. So skeptical of you, why do you look so down?” the retort was cheeky, and good at that, as it left you speechless. “I’m not sad, or anything-” you pause, your mind had gone blank. “I- Um... I-” attempting to return to your work instead, you give him a dirty look, but he stares back with such intensity you don’t know how to feel. “I’m doing work, don’t screw up my train of thought, please?” “You definitely weren’t saying that when I offered to take you out to eat, come on, spit it out.” he tsks. Utterly defeated, you sigh. “I wanted to invite someone.” you spit out, obviously embarrassed. Gojo pretends to act shocked, before excitedly inquiring, “And who might that be?” “G-Geto.” there was no point in lying now. He oohs, looking down at your shaking hands and back up at your face. “Ooooh, Y/N has a crush on my best bud? Who woulda thought!?” Your cheeks going warm, you shake your head furiously. “No I don’t! I- Mr. S- Sir! This is so unprofessional of you!” stuttering, you drop your head on the desk, arms pillowing the sides of your head and groaning. “How cute. Anyways, you accept that dinner date?” You lift your head back up, sniffling. “It’s not a date!” Giving you a shit-eating grin again, his eyes twinkle. “Oh, but it is.” “I- Aghhhhh!” putting your head back down on the desk, this time without your arms, you don’t know how to respond, so instead you make a mockery of yourself. Laughing, Gojo decides not to tease and you and instead says, “Meet me in Shibuya district, there’s a super nice restaurant, I’ll drive to your house, no need to worry about transportation. 9 PM, see you there!” his voice grew more distant down the hallway, you can still hear the clicking of his shoes and his deep humming. So you had a date tonight, Now how would that go?

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duskandstarlight · 3 years

Text

Embers & Light (Chapter 30)

Notes: Well, it's here... the chapter you have all been waiting for. I can only hope that you like it and that it tugs at your heartstrings. This is my Valentine's day gift to all my wonderful readers who have stuck with me for thirty chapters for... this, I imagine. It's a start—a beginning for these two—as they step into something new. As usual, forgive any typos and I intend to reply to every one of you who commented on the last chapter. I'm so sorry for the delay in replying, things have been a bit crazy on my end, but I appreciate every single one of you.

ACOSF in two days...! And because I am desperately trying to keep spoiler free, please don't mention any snippets you may have received beyond SJM's teasers. That includes the leaked chapters—please keep it to yourself but of course, let me know what you think of the chapter and my inbox is open for any of you wanting to speak to me spoiler-free. Thank you so much <3

Chapter Thirty Cassian

Pure, undiluted rage burned inside of Cassian. It roared, drowning everything out as he landed to a blood bath of winged males impaled with pine needles, charred ashen bodies and the evidence of killing blows. But Cassian only registered them because of the years of training that had been drummed into him to catalogue and analyse his surroundings.

His hands wielded twin swords as if they were an extension of who he was but his legs… they moved of their own accord, racing towards the opening of the cave without him asking them to. Towards that scent that Cassian had no problem detecting above the blood and shit and gore.

Behind him, Lorrian swore as they stepped over the threshold of the cave’s entrance, their siphons flashing and flaring to find rusty cages lining the walls and a pit of blood in the centre. The awful images of dirty abused girls registered as Cassian desperately scanned the cave—until his eyes fell on Nesta’s back. Her leathers were streaked in red and she was kneeling in a pool of blood before an injured girl who was wreathed in that wondrous, singing light.

Frawley appeared beside them in a swirl of smoke, moving in that way she often did that hinted she was more element than being, stopping them in their tracks a few feet away.

“What took you so long,” Frawley snapped to Cassian, one blue eye boring into him whilst the other flicked to Lorrian at his side, as if her attention could not help but be drawn to her husband. “Get Nesta out of the trance—now. Pull on that damned cord, do whatever you need to do. She channelled her energy from the fear and despair, but her body is dropping into exhaustion. She’s going to crash earlier than expected. We haven’t trained for this. Only you—”

Frawley’s voice tuned out as the crack of Cassian’s knee-caps jarred his body as he hit the rocky floor. Wet seeped through Cassian’s leathers, courtesy of the pool of fresh blood coming from the dead male to Cassian’s right, but he barely registered. He was too busy detecting the stale scent of arousal and death and cruelty. This was a male had no doubt stuck his cock where it did not belong and caused unimaginable harm to innocent, defenceless girls as they cried and struggled.

Anger soared into the snow ruffled peaks of Cassian’s fury at the thought and the cave… it quaked in response.

“Don’t bring the cave down as you do it.” Frawley’s words bit through him, her voice wholly ancient—too like Amren’s. “Put a leash on it otherwise we’ll be buried in rubble.”

It was easier said than done to reign in that snarling beast. But then time seemed to—change. From the moment Cassian pressed his back to Nesta’s and hoarsely began to chant her name, everything blurred and tumbled. As Cassian’s eyes shut of their own accord, the cave became as dark and depthless as a night sky devoid of starlight. As Cassian was pulled deep within himself, sucked inwards by a vacuum he had no control over.

The black Cassian spiralled down towards was as thick as tar, but to his right, a shadowed veil rippled in an invisible wind. It chanted in tandem with the screaming in his mind, that one word repeated over and over and over—a mate calling to its mate. A male calling to their beloved and hoping they were enough.

That beautiful healing lullaby had started to miss the right notes, the music falling into something off-kilter and gut-wrenchingly wrong. Panic rose like bile in Cassian’s throat and he reached for that twisted rope, and, without hesitating or second guessing himself, he tugged on it with all of his might.

The resounding crack and splinter in Cassian’s ears was awful. Pain threw itself down that bond and into the heart of his chest. And then, for a beat as that pain ebbed away, there was nothing… Even the healing music stopped. The quiet was so eerie Cassian could only hear his heart beating wildly in his ears. But then he felt it: fiery strength and steely determination. A light travelling down that tether to meet his, scenting of jasmine and vanilla—of Nesta.

Then Cassian was thrown outwards and his eyes opened to find the cave bleeding back into focus and that enthralling power dying at Nesta’s hands. Her magic dropped with such suddenness that she lost balance and careened backwards into his chest. The jolt had the world tilting again, but Cassian scrambled to collect himself, encasing Nesta safely in wings and arms.

By the time those smoky blue eyes snapped open and stared up at him, Cassian was already ferociously scanning Nesta’s body for injury. He catalogued every cut and scrape, every smear of blood. He turned her hands over in his to find them stained red. There was so much death on Nesta’s hands if the charred remains and bodies impaled with fiery weapons were anything to go by. This strong, sharp female fighting for what was right—to fight for those who could not defend themselves, even as it sent her spiralling into the darkest of places.

And Cassian knew it had effected her in unthinkable ways. Knew as he stared into those beautiful eyes that had held such life in the past month and found her pupils blown wide and unseeing. Felt the churning emotions that Nesta was too overwhelmed to keep in check as they hurtled down that bond between them. Frozen wrath and terror and agony. Each sensation a double-edged sword as it was plunged into the gut, over and over.

Fury clambered inside of Cassian at the injustice of Nesta’s magic. That not only was she burdened with the tireless task of keeping a check on her own heightened emotions, but others as well. Constantly monitoring them day in and day out so they did not become too much—so they did not swell and spill over the wall she had resurrected for herself. The wall that had been lowered so it was waist-high rather than a fortress—so she was not doomed to float through life numb and unfeeling and at a distance from others.

Understanding all of that—the sacrifice and burden Nesta carried—had the cave shaking again as Cassian ordered Nesta to put her walls up. Loose pebbles and dust rained down from the ceiling, and in the periphery, Cassian heard Lorrian swear and Frawley hiss, but that anger… he couldn’t control it. It was white hot and sizzling, boiling his blood and making his power itch. His siphons hadn’t stopped flaring since he’d first felt Nesta roaring down that bond and he’d known something was dreadfully, knee-tremblingly wrong. He and Lorrian had torn through the sky as he followed that invisible tie wreathed in light—emerald and ruby shooting stars tracking their way across the sky.

And now… that anger that had been pushing against his skin was morphing into something truly terrible—the monster who became consumed by blood lust. Just as he had that day when he’d slaughtered and tortured all of the males at the Spearhead camp—

A hand rested on Cassian’s cheek, cutting through that urge to massacre and ask questions later. The touch was grounding and so unquestionably right that he leant into that blood splattered palm, relishing in the cool, slim fingers which cut through that fire.

“Walls up, Nesta,” Cassian ordered, as he felt those talons hooking deep inside of her, clawing at her, tugging her down into the oily depths where he could not reach her. He watched those eyes glaze over until they were hollow, and even though that bond was open, everything went so unearthly quiet that Cassian would have thought some vital connection had been severed if it wasn’t for the faintest glimmer of her that sparked in the gloomy dark.

Everything moved too fast after that. And the entire time Nesta walked around the cave and clearing like a phantom ghost, even as she held her hands out to assist Frawley in healing any urgent injuries.

“We need a support unit or we need to get out,” Lorrian said roughly in Cassian’s ear, as together they surveyed the bastard tied to the tree. Nesta’s bindings still glowed silver and the bastard’s head hung limp against his chest from where Cassian had knocked him out.

“Frawley can cast a shield over this place so nobody can get in or out without our say so,” Lorrian continued, “but I don’t doubt that Ironcrest will have warriors out searching for us. Not after we left so abruptly without informing anybody of where we were going. I bet the first thing Rufous did was send a messenger straight to Marsh or Kallon. I suggest we leave and come back tomorrow with males we can trust to search the place.”

Kallon—the prince who none of them had seen all day. Not even in the sparring ring. And whilst Marsh hadn’t made an appearance, it was the latter that sent warning bells ringing in Cassian’s head. Something about it was off. All of them could all sense it, but right now there were bigger matters at hand. Namely what to do with the females.

“Can you host the girls at the cottage?” Cassian asked his friend. From the girls that had been able to speak, it was clear that all of them apart from Samra and Ailie had no parents to speak of. “Set up makeshift accommodation until we decide what we need to do?”

It was dangerous territory they were stepping into. A statement and the beginnings of power-play to take females from a camp, even if it was for their safety. Lesser actions had started wars between the clans, but Cassian would not stand by. Rhys wouldn’t either. Especially not when the males were wearing bands around their arms that Cassian was certain belonged to the rebellion.

“Of course we can,” Frawley announced as she came up beside them. Nesta and Sala were close behind. The manticore had stuck to Nesta like a shadow since Cassian had arrived, as if she too could sense that Nesta was far, far away. “It will be quicker if I channel us to the cottage.”

Lorrian was frowning with concern. “All at once?”

“Needs must,” Frawley clipped, but she did not meet her husband’s eye. “It will drain me after I cast a shield but I can do it. It does mean that I won’t be able to channel you and Nesta back to Windhaven. There won’t be room—”

“That’s fine,” Cassian interjected, with a quick cut of his hand through the air. “We’ll fly from the Steppes.”

“I can help.” It was the first time Nesta had spoken in a long while and it came out as a rasp. “I still have some magic left—to help heal the girls. I can heal their wings.”

Terror gripped at Cassian’s gut but he would not tell Nesta no. He wouldn’t take this from her—her ability to heal and bring life rather than take it away. Even though Cassian was tired, he could feel the whisper of Nesta’s magic churning back to life, no doubt fuelled from the sickening history that had seeped into the landscape.

Those eyes slid to Cassian as her chin tilted upwards. And although there was a fierceness to Nesta’s expression, something was missing, as if she wasn’t really there. “I can do it.”

He nodded to show he understood, just as Frawley added, “Caer has already gone on ahead to alert my sisters. They’ll come to help heal the injured. One of them can send word to Velaris for you, assuming that’s what you need to do.”

Cassian nodded. That was essential. Cassian needed to connect with his family to tell them what had happened here. He needed to let Rhys into his mind so he could showcase the horrors and get Azriel down to interrogate the bastard Nesta had thought to keep alive rather than bring about his death.

The male that Cassian knew to be called Alaksandar had struggled and thrashed against Nesta’s magical bindings when he had first spied the general—had pissed himself as he surveyed the iron rage on Cassian’s face. It had taken everything in Cassian not to murder him on the spot, but they needed him—needed the information he would bring once Azriel plucked out Truth-Teller from its shadowy sheath. Not that Cassian wasn’t tempted to wrestle the information out of the male himself.

Time sped by after that. Frawley obliterated the shattered remains of the shield hiding the cave from sight before casting an impenetrable web of her own. Then she had weaved another bubble—her magic a smoke that glittered with such gentleness that Nesta did not tense beside him. Cassian pulled her to him anyway, burying his hands in her hair at the nape of her neck. But Nesta did not look at him. Did not even seem to notice as they blended into smoke and mist—into water and earth and air—until they were channelled into the muddy paddock that served as a sparring ring at the back of the cottage.

Frawley’s sisters had kitted out the barn with inviting, spacious beds and cast their magic so it was wonderfully warm and inviting—safe. And even though Frawley’s sisters were far more intimidating than the white-haired witch, they had all dampened their glow, emitting an aura of calm that even made Cassian forget at times that they were something ancient—something other.

Cassian sought out Kalika as soon as they landed—the dark-skinned witch of the Northern Steppes and the most terrifying of Frawley’s sisters—and dared to ask her to cast a message to Rhys which disappeared on a moth-carried wind. Frawley’s other sisters—Narihara and Andraste—swished between the kitchen and the barn, remedying and administering sleeping draughts and tinctures designed to ease pain.

Frawley saw that all of them received her tea tonic and Cassian had felt energy flush into his system before it was promptly drained again as he ferried between the barn and the cottage, pressing drinks into Nesta’s hands whenever he saw her start sway.

Somehow Cassian knew when Nesta was done—when her body was close to giving out—the tea no longer enough to replenish her magic levels which had seen her hanging just barely on the precipice of her magic reserves. Nesta had not had enough power left to heal the cuts in the girls wings, but was able to knot bone and membrane back together. It had taken Madja weeks to repair the tatters of Cassian’s wings—the spell-work too intricate for even the most skilled of healers—but Nesta melded bone and membrane back together with an ease that others could not muster. Even Frawley’s sisters had eyed Nesta with cautious admiration, as if they could sense that celestial something inside of her that set her apart from everyone and everything. A queen on a much-earned pedestal.

Cassian found Nesta kneeling by another makeshift bed, her hands emitting that pure white light as they hovered over a set of bent and torn wings. The light was buttery soft rather than blinding white, and Cassian could tell from the way it sang softly that her power was a whisper of what it should be—just as his was. Despite the multiple brews he had drank, his siphons throbbing had ebbed to a flickering pulse, something which had Frawley eyeing him in that disconcerting way of hers as she brusquely waved at him to go home and come back when he was useful.

He had not protested. He wanted to get Nesta home. For her to convalesce in a place that was associated with safety and warmth. Where she could bathe and rid herself of the blood whilst he sat with an ear to the door. Where he could ensure that she ate and looked after herself. A place where she could be herself—where she could be quiet and digest and allow herself to be hollow if that was what she needed. But Nesta now—pretending to be ok when her eyes were so blank—was making it hard to breathe.

And still down that bond, Cassian felt nothing. Wide open, for once, but utterly empty—like a tunnelled-out void.

“Nesta.” Cassian touched his fingers so they rested gently against a shoulder. She did not reply or twist to look up at him, but the light faded from her palms, like a star winking out.

Cassian took a healthy step away as the girl Nesta had been healing watched him with wary, glazed eyes. He made himself smile at her, even as the girl shrank back into herself, pressing herself into the mattress as if she was willing herself to disappear.

For the first time in Cassian’s life, he wished he could vanish the wings and the tattoos—anything that marked him as Illyrian. That reminded the girl of the horrors she had suffered.

Bending over, Nesta spoke in such hushed tones to the girl that even Cassian could not hear her. But then Nesta was standing, her posture as steely and distant as she rose as if she were balancing a crown on her head. Narihara swooped in to administer the girl a sedative to help her sleep and Sala, who had been sitting on her haunches by the bed, rose to her feet.

Together, they walked in silence out of the barn. Cassian deliberately paced himself a few feet behind Nesta and the manticore who padded at her side. Dusk was well and truly descending and starlight already dusted the night sky. In the Steppes nature was its own creature and despite the cottage, it felt as if the sky was a tangible canvas, so low they could reach up and brush the starlight with their fingertips.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian rasped softly. He had intended to say something else, not that he knew what that was going to be, but as Nesta turned to him, speech left him. She looked so lost—so broken and traumatised—that Cassian felt as if he had been transported back to when she had first arrived in Illyria with him. When she was gaunt and traumatised and wholly unreachable.

Cassian’s blood-stained fingers lifted her chin so he could search her eyes. And in them—nothing. No whisper of that colossal fire or that fierce defiance that he loved. None of that at all. Only vast emptiness.

“I want to go home.”

The confession was small and almost childlike and Cassian nearly fell to his knees.

Home. She wanted to go home—with him.

Cassian pulled Nesta’s unnaturally pliant body to him. One hand fisting into the hair at the nape of her neck—into the tangled brown hair that had all but fallen from her braid. Nesta did not hug him back, but after a moment, she fisted her hands against his chest and her forehead came to rest just over his heart.

“Ok sweetheart, we’ll go,” Cassian murmured, dropping his lips to the crown of her head and pressing them there—instilling all the love and comfort into the gesture that he could muster. “I’ll take you home.”

***

Windhaven was sleeping when they finally landed outside of the bungalow with Sala close behind them. Even the skies had been quiet on the flight back: Cassian had only seen the odd Illyrian patrolling the skies, their figures a streak of darkness temporarily blotting out the starlight as they tracked the perimeter. They usually knew better than to stop Cassian mid-flight, but he had winked his siphons into the dark anyway, warning them to steer clear. The last thing they needed was to be stopped when they were so close to home.

The stone house was eerily quiet when they stepped across the threshold, and bobbing faelights gently flickered to life, illuminating the way as Cassian led Nesta by the hand down the hallway. He had been touching her at every opportunity since he had found her on her knees, covered in blood and her hands humming with that ancient healing light. Cassian had hoped the physical contact might anchor her, but Nesta had continued to slip away from him ever since, until their connection was nothing but an empty, lifeless corridor.

“Shower then bed,” Cassian told Nesta as he pushed open the door to the bathroom to reveal the large tub. “You’ll feel more fae once you have cleaned up.”

Nesta did not respond. She just stared past him, her pupils blown wide and unseeing. The sight nearly undid him. It had been a long while since he’d seen that look.

As he turned on the faucets and pulled the lever under the taps, Cassian wondered if this was how Nesta had been after the war. If whilst he and his friends had been toasting their success and trying to pretend everything was fine, she had gone up to her room, hollow and broken, already changed into someone else.

And the worst thing about it all was that Cassian had left Nesta to her own devices. He had not chased after her and reiterated what he had told her on the battlefield. Already he had been so consumed with the terror of rejection—the fear that now they weren’t on death’s door, Nesta might shatter his heart rather than allow him to kiss her.

It turned out that fear had only served to cement Nesta’s opinion of him—that he merely lusted after her, the bond tricking him into thinking he wanted something that he didn’t. That what his heart really wanted was Mor instead. Nesta had made that much clear the evening before.

He was a fucking idiot. Not just for failing to pursue Nesta, but for failing to intervene when he had known how sick she was. For not using his years of warrior training to understand what was truly going on—how it was not about him and his bruised ego, but something else entirely. Something much bigger.

Running a hand under the water, Cassian waited until it was hot and the tendrils of steam filled the room with its wispy fingers. When he turned back to Nesta, all it took was one look at her small and blood-stained body to know that if he left her to it, she’d stand in that shower long after the water ran cold.

“Usually we take our clothes off for a shower, sweetheart,” Cassian teased, hoping that his words would coax out some sort of reaction. When Nesta remained quiet, he cupped her pale, blood-streaked face with a hand. “Don’t finally give me that opportunity to undress you,” he warned.

Nesta’s fingers clasped around his arm and his leathers creaked at the impact. It was a silent plea for him to stay, so Cassian just gave her the lopsided smile he usually saved for her. “My lucky day,” he said softly.

Tugging off his stained clothing, Cassian stepped into the shower in his shorts. He bit back a groan as the hot water ran over his flared wings, soothing away the sharp cold which had bit into them as he flew them home.

After adjusting the temperature, Cassian held his hand out to Nesta. Her eyes were still devoid of expression, and although she was watching him, Cassian had a feeling that Nesta was really floating somewhere above them, detached from her body and unable to come back down.

“It’s nice and warm,” Cassian coaxed, but his voice remained a soft echo rather than playful.

There was a pause where time seemed to stretch out too thin. Where Sala looked beseechingly at Nesta with worried golden eyes. When the manticore nudged Nesta’s arm with her nose, Nesta startled, as if she had indeed been very far away.

He knew things were bad—very bad—when Nesta mutely peeled off her own leathers and joined him.

Cassian had fantasised about taking Nesta in the shower more times than he dared to count. It was usually hard and fast against the wall, her breathy moans ringing off the tiles as he made her come around him. It had never crossed Cassian’s mind that they might shower together covered in blood and still wearing their underwear.

Slim fingers curled around his as Nesta stepped into the tub and Cassian only had time to briefly note Nesta’s body had filled out—those sharp, skeletal edges softened with flesh and toned muscle built from hearty meals and rigorous training—before he realised just how cold she was. Goosebumps littered Nesta’s skin and her lips held a blueish hue that had alarm bells sounding inside of his head.

Wings and arms curved around her on instinct, coaxing Nesta under the water with him so he could cocoon her in heat. He foamed up a sponge, and when Nesta made no move to take it from him, Cassian gently began to run it over her pale skin—until dried blood smeared, running down her white skin before it swirled down the drain.

For the entire duration Nesta remained vacant and unresponsive. Yet, even though Cassian couldn’t feel the faintest flicker of emotion through their bond, he knew that she trusted him enough to care for her. So, when the water ran clear, Cassian did not ask for permission before he slowly started to unravel her braid. It was hard work—matted dark red ensnared the hair but after working shampoo into the strands, Cassian was able to run his fingers through without any snags.

Leaving Nesta to wash out the shampoo herself, Cassian started to make work on his own body. He was covered in far less blood than Nesta—by the time he’d arrived, it had been too late to massacre those bastards himself—but red coated his knees and legs from where he had dropped into the pool of blood on the floor. And his hands…they had been smeared with it from where he had held Nesta’s wrists, trying to coax her back to him as she plunged to rock bottom.

Cassian was so consumed by the memory that he was only just in time to catch Nesta tipping her head back under the faucet with her eyes wide open. A hand shot out reflexively, cupping Nesta’s hairline as shampoo started to run down her face and into the long spikes of her eyelashes. The bubbles must have stung, but Nesta didn't even blink. It was as if she hadn’t even noticed.

After that, Cassian didn't take his eyes off of her, and once Nesta’s hair was free from shampoo, he turned her in his arms so her back was flush against his chest and began to tackle her fingernails. Her body was so unusually pliant—so mouldable—that Cassian felt as if he were a puppet master with strings, her arms and hands limp as he scrubbed at the arcs of her fingernails until they were free of red.

In fact, Cassian had become so used to supporting Nesta’s body that he almost startled when he turned back from shutting off the now lukewarm water to find her facing him. Frozen in place, Cassian watched a pale arm lift so Nesta could brush her ice cold fingers over a whorl of ink curving around his left bicep.

Cassian was barely breathing—not only unsure of what to do but also of startling her, somehow—but then something broke inside of him and he reached for her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles for far longer than he should have.

It hurt to move away from her—to step out of the tub and wrap a towel around his hips—but Nesta had started to shiver uncontrollably, her skin entirely bleached of colour. He threw the largest, fluffiest towel he could find around her body, and desperate to warm her up, rubbed his palms over her arms, encasing her in wings as he lifted her onto the bath mat beside Sala. And whilst logic told Cassian that Nesta was shaking from a combination of both shock and cold, it didn’t stop the worry that took a hold of him.

“Get yourself dry,” Cassian told Nesta. “I’ll go and get you some clothes.”

Suppressing a grunt at the winter chill that clung to the air and snapped at his wings, Cassian lit the log burner in his room before he quickly tugged on some loose pants. The unconscious decision for Nesta to stay with him was already fully formed in his mind. There was no way he was leaving her to sleep alone given her current state, and whilst Cassian could sleep in the armchair by her bed, the territorial part of him needed her safe with him, in his bed, as close to him as she would allow. And after last night… it wasn’t as if they hadn’t shared a bed before, anyway.

The panic that flared inside of Cassian when he arrived back at the bathroom with a clean nightgown clutched in his hand was so sharp and twisting that his breath caught. Nesta hadn’t moved—not an inch—and whilst Sala was nudging her companion’s torso with her muzzle, Nesta just continued to shiver violently as if she hadn’t felt the impact at all. Her skin was still wet and her hair hung lank against her shoulders. Droplets of water dripped steadily onto the floor tiles from where she had failed to ring it out.

Cassian swore. Stumbling towards her, he grasped at Nesta’s shoulders with his hands. She was cold to the touch. “Sweetheart, we need to get you dry,” he rasped.

He ducked his head to look at her, but Nesta just curled in on herself, her arms wrapping even further around her body as she shook. Cupping her face in his hands, Cassian hoped that his touch would bring her out of the far reaches of her mind, but she just continued to tremble, mute.

So, with gentle, efficient hands, Cassian towelled Nesta dry before pulling her nightgown over her head. He pressed her hair gently between the swaths of a towel, coaxing out as much water as possible, and when he was satisfied her hair wasn’t going to soak her nightgown, he stepped back.

“You’re staying with me tonight,” he told her sternly, and not bothering to wait for the reply he knew would not come, Cassian scooped her uncharacteristically malleable body into his arms and carried her to his room.

The log burner was still blazing fiercely as he lowered Nesta onto the midnight blue sheets. He piled the duvets on top of her anyway, plus a few more thick blankets over that. Not wanting the fire to go out, he threw some more wood through the cast-iron door, working quickly in case the fire crackled or popped. With Nesta’s magic near drained, the last thing Cassian wanted was to trigger her flashbacks on top of everything else, but he was too concerned about her blue lips to forgo the fire altogether.

Only the top half of Nesta’s head was visible beneath the mountains of blankets, her pointed ears poking beneath her wet hair. She looked so small and vulnerable it was hard to believe that she had slain so many males earlier, that power of hers sizzling and burning through flesh until they were nothing but charred remains and shells of who they once were. Those males might have taken those girls freedom but Nesta had taken their lives before Cassian had even got to her.

He wondered when he would stop failing her—if he ever would.

“Come here,” Cassian murmured as he climbed into bed beside her.

Nesta surprised him when she did as he asked. Her knees knocked against his thighs as she inched closer—like a moth to a flame—and she rested her cold forehead against his chest without being prompted, right over his heart, as if the warm beat of life would thaw the frozen ice in her bones.

Tangling their legs together, Cassian tried to ignore how his skin hummed as their bodies intertwined, hating himself for reacting so strongly to her touch when she was suffering. He lifted a wing instead—an unknown apology—and wrapped it around her, using it to direct the heat from the fire towards their bodies.

The rustle of his wing made Nesta stir. Slowly, she looked up through her eyelashes and as their eyes locked, something clicked deep inside of him, turning. His heart let out a long, deep thump, the sound reverberating throughout his body. He felt it in the air at the same time that Nesta’s hands fisted in his tunic. The sensation was heavy and delicious and as intoxicating as any drug.

Their sudden intimacy felt so right. They had never touched like this—her body entangled with his—and now he knew what it was like, he never wanted it to end. He couldn’t bare the thought of sleeping without her. Even in his sleep last night he had reached for her, his wing protecting her instinctively.

He wondered if Nesta knew what that meant.

“Better?” Cassian made himself ask, rubbing a palm up and down the arm that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. It was a poor attempt to sever his thoughts, but his voice was hoarse… nervous. His heart had started to kick again, the sensation hard and slow against his ribcage, his blood thick and sluggish in his veins. Her eyes were the most blue he’d ever seen them; they were the colour of the sky after a strong bout of rain, as the clouds parted to make way for the sun.

Somehow, Cassian knew what was going to happen before it did. He couldn’t even say who initiated it, only that their heads tilted and dipped in unison, like two magnets inexplicably and undeniably drawn to one another.

If they ever kissed again, Cassian had always imagined that it would be passionate and frantic. A screaming match turned into a lusting frenzy, his mouth hot on hers as he swallowed her moans. But this… this was better. This was perfect. It was his undoing.

It was slow and scorching, the intensity of it so immediate that Cassian felt like he was suspended in time… hovering. And he knew… he knew that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for one another from the instant their open lips brushed, from the way that they moulded together like they had been kissing for centuries. Heat bloomed in his chest, a torturous burning pleasure that spread through every nerve in his body, licking its way down his limbs before settling like a weight in his groin. His body was taut and pliant at the same time and all he wanted was to be even closer to her, to feel every inch of her body fit against his own.

He wanted to taste her skin, to bury himself in her scent. He wanted—

A groan rumbled through him as their tongues met, the sound deep and almost animalistic. Desperate for more, he tangled a hand in Nesta’s wet hair, gently tilting her head back so he could be granted better access to her mouth.

Nesta made a strangled noise in the back of her throat—the first sound she had made in hours—and her knee slipped further between his thighs, her body moving to press flush against his—

The movement sobered Cassian, the hazy fog of want parting slightly for reason to stumble through, like a newborn fawn on gangly legs.

The gravity of what they were doing hit him like a punch to the gut.

If she moved any closer, she would feel just how much he wanted her.

There would be no turning back, after that.

Even though his body was screaming for him to flip her onto her back and settle between her legs, Cassian made himself pull away. The movement felt wrong… agonising.

His hand shook with restraint.

If Cassian had ever doubted their mating bond, he wasn’t now. Instinct was driving him to claim her, even though he knew in the back of his mind—the part that cared so deeply—that Nesta was too raw, too exposed to know what she wanted. Even though she was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her, the territorial male in him wanted to bury himself inside of her; to solidify the very thing that had been driving him insane for the past year and a half. What kind of male did that make him, he wondered? He was ready to bet all his wealth that it didn’t make him a good one.

Panting, Cassian searched Nesta’s face. She was breathing hard, her lips pink and swollen, her hair already starting to curl in the heat from the fire. Cassian had always thought her beautiful, but now she was breathtaking. It took Cassian a few seconds to realise why and when he did, his heart contracted to the point of pain: the light was back in her eyes, as if their kiss had woken her up.

Cassian’s resolve wavered. Maybe this was what she needed. Maybe—

As if sensing his inner conflict Nesta slid a cool hand up to his neck, levering herself up to press her lips to his. Her leg rode up over his thigh… over his hip and he moaned into her mouth, his will splintering as he felt the desire thrumming through her—between them. He tightened his grasp on her, resisting the urge to slide his hand round to her ass. To tug her closer.

With a last long, lingering kiss, Cassian made himself tear his lips from hers. “Nesta, stop,” he murmured against her mouth.

She stilled then, and as the implication behind his words dawned on her, that light started to fade in her eyes; dazzling blue dulling to an unreadable grey. Cassian pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, to her nose, to her mouth. They were gentle and he hoped each one conveyed how hard this was for him, how he didn’t want to let her go, not really.

“We shouldn’t,” he rasped finally. His words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears, his voice husky and low despite everything. Sinful.

“Why?” Nesta breathed—her first word in hours coming out hoarse. Her fingers curled around his wrist where it still gripped her hip—holding him there.

“You know why. We can’t—”

“This makes me feel,” she whispered, her words breaking. And that was pleading in her voice. “You—”

“You’ll regret it tomorrow,” Cassian tried to explain, cutting her off because he had done this. He had fucked his way through enough females post-battle to know what she was doing. He understood the desperation for anything that would pierce through that pressing numbness that descended after bloodshed, but he also knew the disappointment that would chase it when she realised that pleasure didn’t last.

Cassian couldn’t sacrifice the progress they had made for a few moments of pleasure. Not now... not when they had come so far.

Nesta’s fingers slid down to his palm, the flat of her small hand pressing against his, encouraging him to slide up under her nightdress. He hissed—her thigh, her hip, her waist were sinfully smooth beneath his callouses. “I won’t regret it,” she promised. “You won’t either.”

Cassian studied her—the want in her eyes. What would happen if he denied her? Would he lose the progress they had made anyway? What if his rejection stacked that icy wall against him and she shut down the end of her bond again? He couldn’t bare the thought of it—of her barbed insults and the indifferent way she had treated him. He couldn’t do that again. Not ever. He had been slowly gaining on Nesta Archeron inch by inch, and he’d be damned if they started moving backwards.

It was a risk either way.

His greed won out.

Nesta’s mouth immediately yielded to him when he kissed her again, and this time it was her that moaned, the sound a strangled surprise in the back of her throat. Almost as if she hadn’t expected him to give in. Almost.

“Promise me,” Cassian murmured, his lips now on her neck as he propped himself over her. He allowed himself a moment to do what he’d fantasised about more times than he could count—graze his nose slowly from her collarbone to the nape of her neck—and relished in the way that she shuddered beneath him. “I don’t expect anything from you, this can just be... this. A one off. But promise you won’t freeze me out. That we won’t go back to before. That things won’t be cold between us.”

Pressing a kiss behind her ear, Nesta breathed another moan as he chased it all the way to the pulse point beneath her jaw. He sucked, feeling the flutter of life against his tongue—her body as it arched into him.

“I promise,” Nesta panted finally, her fingers curling around the strands of his damp hair. She tugged, telling him what she wanted, the words singing in the air between them; more, more, more.

As if in response, his blood surged, singing what it always sung—her name, over and over. The name he heard on the wind. Everywhere he went. Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

“Good,” Cassian rasped into Nesta’s skin, his lips imprinting on the shell of her ear. He waited until goosebumps littered her skin and then he pulled back to stare into those blue, blue eyes to make his own promise. He hoped it would undo her as much as it undid him. “I’m going to make you feel good,” he told her. “I’m going to make the numbness go away, ok sweetheart?”

Something moved behind the surface of Nesta’s irises as she shivered. And this time it wasn’t from the cold or from shock; it was hot anticipation and want and… her breath caught as his palm traversed along her now warm side, along the dip of her waist, hitching the material of her nightgown up, up, up.

Her fingers tightened in his hair as his movements turned light. As his fingers trailed from the underside of her breasts all the way down her side to the top of her thigh, coaxing her to shudder—for every nerve ending to sing.

Their kiss was searing and desperate when she pulled his face back down to hers. All around him, Cassian could smell the all-consuming scent of her. It was as intoxicating as any drug and he couldn’t help but cave, rolling his hips into hers, desperate for some sort of relief. He had never been this hard in his life, had never wanted anybody like this in the long time he had been alive. He needed to feel her skin against his, the sensation suddenly as vital as breathing—

“Off,” he growled into Nesta’s mouth, tugging her nightgown over her head and tossing it away. He flared his wings, lifting the heavy blankets so he could kick them down to their ankles. and—

Cassian swore at the sight before him. Nesta was beautiful. Where his skin was golden and marred with scars, hers was cream and unblemished—untouched—and her breasts… Cassian’s mouth turned dry and his insides twisted. They were far better than the inferior image he’d conjured in his mind, even as he pyrite glittered tauntingly between them, as if to say; I was here first.

With a soft snarl, Cassian reverently dragged his fingers over the smooth plains of Nesta’s stomach, watching her abdominal muscles tense, mesmerised.

“You’re perfect,” he told her with hoarse honesty, cupping the breast closest to the mattress as he took the other dusky nipple into his mouth. He sucked and teased it with the flat of his tongue, relishing in her sharp inhalation of breath… the way her fingers desperately wound their way through his hair again and again. “These are perfect. You have no idea how perfect you are, Nesta.”

A flicker of…something sparked down that bond. It was the first he had truly felt of Nesta in hours and Cassian tried to clamp down on that emotion, to dissect it, desperate to hold on to that sensation of… surprise. It was surprise, Cassian realised. As if she did not expect him to say that, let alone think it.

So, Cassian pushed back everything—his sincerity and awe and want for her and only her. And then he stared up at her with what he knew were dark eyes and scraped the peak of her nipple with his teeth.

A shuddered moan skittered the air around them and Cassian watched Nesta’s pupils dilate with a want that had his heart kicking in his chest. It was that sensation which sparked her into action, her hands feverish as they grappled at the material of his tunic, tugging at it until it was discarded on the floor beside the bed. Then her hands were on his chest, those lithe fingers feverish as they explored the hard lines of his stomach… the silvery scar that ran from his sternum to his lower abdomen.

Burying his head in her cleavage to stifle a groan, Cassian listened to the hammering of her heart as she followed the fine train of hair that started at his naval. In a desperate plea to distract himself from her touch—to distract her—Cassian cupped and squeezed her breasts, rolling his fingers over her nipples until her breath stuttered and her hands stilled just as they grazed the waistband of his pants.

Knowing that his restraint would melt if she wrapped her hand around him, Cassian began to press a path of open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. They were both still lying on their sides and he lifted his body, coaxing her leg against the mattress into a right angle just above his hip so he was cradled between them.

When he hoisted the leg slung over his waist up into a right angle and pressed it up into the blanket with a splayed palm on her knee, Nesta realised what he intended to do. He felt her waver and stiffen, her body going rigid against him, that bond constricting. So Cassian stilled too, taking the time to brush his lips over the right wing of her hip—to savour the taste of her skin against his tongue. To soothe away her hesitancy, somehow knowing that the vulnerability of him sliding down between her legs made her uncomfortable.

The gravity of it hit him then, that Nesta had never done this sober. And Cassian had no idea whether she had even experienced this before—whether she had found pleasure in it. Did not know whether the many one-night stands had bothered to have her clenching around them before they finished themselves of.

Pain sparked as fingernails bit into his shoulders in warning, but Cassian only waited patiently, kissing and soothing away that concern until she relaxed around him. Some animalistic, masochistic part of him hoped that she’d marked him there—that tomorrow he would look in the mirror and see the proof of what they had done. He’d wear those silver half moon circles proudly, more so than any Illyrian tattoo. If only Fae bodies didn’t heal so quickly…

Placing a final kiss to her lower abdomen, Cassian grazed a downward path with the tip of nose until he was hovering just over her centre. Until his head was resting on her thigh.

He couldn’t stop the groan that tumbled out of him at the scent of her. “Gods, sweetheart, I can smell how wet you are.”

The words stretched out between them until everything was pulled taut. Nesta’s hands had moved from his shoulders back to his hair. When he spoke, her fingers slid uncertainly through the damp strands without finding purchase. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was blushing. He knew her well enough by now.

But instead of swiping his tongue through her folds, Cassian reached up to run his mouth over the top-most part of the inside of her thigh. The movement was leisurely and unhurried despite the roaring of blood in Cassian’s ears. Because he had thought about this enough since having met Nesta to know how he wanted this to go. Nesta had spent a year fucking and chasing release and Cassian would not be another notch in her bedpost. By the time he was done, he wanted her squirming and moaning beneath him. He wanted her to anticipate his touch rather than merely using him to press the right buttons. He wanted her to be consumed with it; to feel that anticipation build until she was boneless against the mattress. He wanted to be the kindle for her fire and watch her burn and burn and burn.

He would not fuck her in a whirlwind of limbs and snarled, panting breath. She had done that. He would do something different—just for her.

So, Cassian made Nesta wait. With each brush of his lips he edged closer to her centre, moving from her thigh to her lower abdomen, his tongue swiping against creamy skin after every kiss until finally—finally—she trembled.

The movement travelled between them, vibrating down the thin tie that roped around his ribcage. A soft growl rumbled from the back of Cassian’s throat at the sensation, his grip tightening on her hip as he ghosted over her centre, his breath a phantom caress on her skin.

Yet, he still took the time to pause, letting a second stretch out into a moment—until Nesta’s fingers pressed into his scalp in anticipation. The touch was light but it spoke volumes, the movement more certain. Still Cassian made her wait, trying to calm the desire thrumming through his blood which wanted to spark him into movement—to devour her whole.

Those fingers twisted through his hair and that restraint dissolved as Cassian reached forward and swiped the flat of his tongue through her folds. The action was slow and premeditated, his touch gentle. For a moment, Nesta went preternaturally still, but then her breath stuttered as he did it again and then again, her hips tilting towards him of their own accord.

It was silent plea for more and a moan tumbled out of him, his chest rumbling as he moved closer, locking his lips around that bundle of nerves. Nesta’s breath caught again and again and Cassian catalogued it all—every movement, every intake of air—using her body language to dissect what she liked and didn’t like, lazily drinking her in until that bond widened and roared at each leisurely stroke.

It was this that Cassian had imagined over anything else. He had fantasised about going down on Nesta more than burying himself inside of her—more than her wrapping her lips around him, or the way her tongue would feel when it ran along the underside of his cock. So, Cassian took his time tasting every inch of her, and only when he had her panting did he pick up the pace; drawing circles and fluttering rhythms across her flesh, licking a path from top to bottom until she was writhing beneath him, edging her closer and closer to breaking point, letting that swell build inside of her until even he could feel it in the air around them—a tangible, living thing.

And down that tether Cassian felt the truth in every whimper... every moan. That alone nearly had him unravelling. Never before had he felt her so keenly, and Cassian had to fight the urge to drop his hold on her leg to wrap his hand around himself and relieve the pressure. He was rock hard, and even though his cock twitched with each burn of pleasure that flooded between them, he didn’t dare divert his focus from her. Didn’t dare make this about him when it needed to be about her.

Cassian had never been this turned on without having been touched before. He had never been this turned on period, and he didn’t trust himself not to cave if he so much as grazed the tent in his pants. And the knowledge that earlier she had moved to slide her hand beneath his waistband… just the thought of those cool, slim fingers wrapping around the length of him made his cock throb and his heart stutter.

Growling to rid himself of the image, Cassian sucked her folds into his mouth. The distraction didn't work. Nesta cried out and the sound had his hips thrusting, pleasure robbing him of any other sensation despite the fact that he was met with nothing but air. The sound was sharp and desperate and perfect, and he knew that he could do this all day; bringing her to completion over and over until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“You taste incredible,” Cassian groaned reverently, pulling away for the first time since he’d slipped down between her legs. His lips made a gentle smack against her wet flesh and Nesta whimpered, the sound a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.

Another long lick followed by slow, wet kisses to her thighs—anywhere but her swollen clit.

He still wanted her to beg. He needed her to, and she wasn’t there yet.

Coaxing her onto her back, Cassian carefully hooked her legs over his arms so they avoided his wings. He had a feeling that if Nesta even so much as brushed them that something would snap inside of him; a beast unleashed.

Spreading her legs wider, Cassian reached up to cup her breasts, satisfaction thrumming through him as she arched into his touch.

Staring up at her with dark eyes, Cassian looked at her for the first time since he’d slipped between her legs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her pink lips parted. He wished she’d open them; he wanted to be met with that depthless blue that latched onto his soul and made it hard to breathe.

“Fuck Nesta,” he groaned, his voice gravelly as he gathered her wetness on his tongue, drawing broad circles before sucking the bud into his mouth. “I could do this all day just to hear you moan.”

Nesta whimpered at the words, the sound wild and untamed against his ears, but her eyes remained squeezed shut. Gently, he dragged his fingers through her wet folds, purposefully running them over the sides of her clit, relishing in the way that her hips jerked at the touch. At the way that bond continued to widen, light spilling into the inky dark.

A wave of fresh pleasure coursed through him.

“That’s it,” Cassian murmured huskily, slipping a finger inside of her. He bit back a groan—wishing it was his cock easing into her. “I want you to come for me, sweetheart.”

Nesta mewled as he brought his mouth back to her. Curling a finger inside of her, Cassian focussed his attention on drawing wide circles with his mouth, coaxing strangled throaty moans as his finger and tongue worked in tandem.

Only when Nesta’s cries were a steady beat and her fingers were yanking at his hair, did he add another finger.

“Oh,” Nesta whimpered, her head rising from the pillows as he hooked his fingers inside of her at the same time that he drew her folds into his mouth. As he rolled her nipple between his fingers with his spare hand and dared another look up at her.

He groaned as those blue, blue eyes connected with his. They were glassy and swimming in the faelight, utterly mesmerising as her face contorted with pleasure. Nesta had never looked at him like that before; so open and vulnerable and soft.

It only lasted a moment and then Nesta’s head had dropped back onto the pillow in concession of the pleasure coursing through her—through him. It urged him to work faster, to continue his attention on that bundle of nerves that was hurtling her to release. As he splayed his palm on her flat stomach and relished the way it spasmed beneath his touch with every swipe and lick and suck.

When she rocked against him, Cassian’s moan was so coarse that Nesta clutched at his head with a near death grip. She held him tightly as the sound vibrated through her, but then Cassian was scraping his teeth lightly over her clit before sucking it into his mouth and Nesta cried out. Her legs attempted to yank out of his grasp to clamp around his head with a strength Cassian should have predicted for, but he managed to pin her down, holding her open.

“Cassian,” Nesta gasped—finally, finally saying his name out loud—her voice breaking and desperate as she tried to push her hips towards his mouth, begging. She was begging him now. “Cassian.”

“Yes,’ he growled, sensing how close she was. “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”

He felt her walls grip around his fingers like a vice. Felt something peak inside of her—

And then Cassian slowed everything down. His fingers slid in and out of her, pushing in to the hilt in long, drawn out strokes as his tongue circled her—as that preternatural stillness seized her again. Cassian heard the break in her moans as that cresting pleasure suspended above them, ready to crash down. Felt the pleasure course through him so fiercely that for a moment he mistook it for his own—

The sudden cry that unleashed itself on the room was a sound that Cassian had never dreamed would come from Nesta’s mouth. He stroked her steadily through the waves of pleasure as she shattered against his tongue, convulsing beneath him again and again until her whimpers gave way to shuddering gasps. Until she shuddered from the intensity of it, her hands pushing his head away. Cassian allowed her limp and panting body to melt into the mattress as he pressed kisses to the bare skin of her thighs. Her fingers were back in his hair again, running through the strands that had dried into curls before she tugged gently, urging him upwards.

Swiping at his wet mouth, Cassian crawled back up beside her, pulling the blankets with him.

To his satisfaction, Nesta had thrown an arm across her flushed face and her chest was heaving, as if she were at loss for air. She didn’t resist when he moved her arm to the pillow, threading his fingers through hers.

She moaned softly against his lips as he kissed her. The sound was content—another noise he’d never heard from her before—and the knowledge that he had caused her to feel that way left him dizzy. Surprise speared through him as her hand curved around the back of his neck, keeping him there, deepening the kiss as she tasted herself on his tongue.

And down that bond, beyond the sated satisfaction and pleasure was amusement, as if she sensed his surprise and delighted in it.

“Ok?” he asked hoarsely when he finally pulled away. He rolled to the side, taking her with him, his hand splayed on the underside of her thigh, his wing thrown over her body like a blanket.

Nesta’s eyes were glazed as she hummed in reply, and a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she skimmed her free hand down his bare chest to his stomach and his muscled twitched under her touch.

Locking her leg firmly around his hips, Nesta pulled him flush against her. He snarled softly against her neck when she ground into his erection. His blood was boiling again, a heat ignited in his very core, and it was an entire feat of its own that he managed to tear himself away from her, catching her hand just as those fingers dipped to slip between the hem of his pants.

He watched Nesta frown, and the expression on her face was so unchecked that something twisted inside him.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted more...

“I said I’d make you feel good,” he rasped in explanation, bringing her hand to his lips so he could press his mouth to her knuckles

When he was done, he gently ran a hand over her hair. “Sleep, Nesta. Your body needs to rest.”

“What? No,” Nesta protested, that defiance he had missed for the last few hours firing across her expression.

But he just pulled her closer to him, and unable to help himself—knowing that he might not get another chance—he kissed her again. It was slow and tender, his fingers pushing back her damp hair from her face. It was a kiss to soothe rather than to arouse, even as his cock throbbed painfully against his stomach. His thumb brushed an arc across the glowing skin of her cheek, savouring the ability to touch her like this; without fear of her pushing him away, or worse, punching him in the gut.

“Sleep,” he urged again, wrapping his wing tighter around her—cocooning them. He felt Nesta’s body start to relax into the mattress, felt the blanket of sleep settle over her in that post-climactic haze. He pressed his mouth to her forehead—now warm beneath his lips, as if he had chased away the cold. “I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Tags: @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @iwastoowildinthe70s @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @hatemecozuaintme @vidalinav

#acosf #acotarfanfic #embersandlightfic #nessianfic #nessian #nesta x cassian #nestaarcheron #cassian #acowar #acomaf #nessiansmut

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

Text

Can’t seem to make you mine - Massimo Torricelli smut

The one where someone makes the mistake of hitting on you in front of Massimo.

Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, dirty talk, curse words.

A/N: This is... not my best work. Sorry. I was so excited to write about Don Massimo, mostly because everytime I read/watch something that I feel like it’s poorly written, I have the urge to correct it in someway or another. But alas, I’m tired, unmotivated and in a lot of pain. So I’m trying to keep this up as best as I can. Day 8 of kinktober, the prompts were possessiveness and knowing someone can hear you.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I knew things would go south the second I felt Lucca’s eyes on me for the first time. We’d barely stepped inside the house where the dinner was being held, and I shivered despite the comfortable temperature of the environment.

It wasn’t the exciting kind of shiver, either, the one Massimo could elicit in me without trying. It was the one that appeared when we were certain that something bad was going to happen, like a premonition in itself, trying to warn us away from whatever course of action we’d decided for the evening.

Except this particular evening wasn’t in my hands. I hadn’t been the one to plan it and had only come after a lot of insistence on Massimo’s part, after he whined about having to spend the night away from me because of some stupid business dinner and that if I didn’t go, he might as well give up the whole ordeal and skip on the meeting himself.

I knew he was playing dirty, but at the same time, I loved the idea that he just needed me that much. So I put on a simple red dress and accompanied him into the house of one of his oldest associates, ready to be bored out of my mind as the men discussed numbers or murders behind closed doors while the women and other guests mingled and drank the night away.

The problem was that I didn’t have any friends amongst the other people invited, having long ago been ostracized by the trophy wives and sugar babies when they realized I actually had a job and didn’t depend on Massimo for a living. So all I had to keep me company was the bartender hired for the evening and whatever amount of whiskey I could drink before Massimo decided to leave.

“Not the kind of drink I expected to see a woman like you enjoying.” Fourteen words and I already felt like puking. I didn’t bother to turn to look at him as I rolled my eyes to the polite man behind the counter, who simply gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, well. The more you know,” was all I said, keeping my voice distant and detached as I twirled the liquid in my hands and prayed to the heavens the blond man by my side decided to give up before Massimo noticed him standing too close.

“Yes, well… I would very much like to know more of you.” Fuck. I really was gonna have to be upfront about it.

Sighing, I finally turned to stare at the man I’d been briefly introduced to after arriving.

“And I’m sorry to report that the interest isn’t reciprocated, but I’m here with Massimo and for Massimo, so if you can just leave me be, I’d greatly appreciate that.” Lucca blinked a few times, his pretty little smile almost falling from his face, like he didn’t actually expect to be dismissed.

There was something off about the whole situation. I could understand hitting on a girl without knowing she had a date, maybe when she had one, if you thought you could take on the guy, but he’d seen me with Massimo. Did he not know who my boyfriend was? Was he somehow unafraid of Don Torricelli?

Both ideas sounded ludicrous, and it only made my skin crawl with mistrust. Just what was this guy’s endgame? Despite the momentary break in his mask, he quickly returned to his wanna-be charming self, his predatory smile still directed at me.

“Well, he’s not here now, is he? I’m sure he wouldn’t even notice if you followed me upstairs and…” I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was done and Lucca was staring back at me with his mouth hanging open, the whiskey that was once in the glass in my hands now dripping from his expensive suit.

The chatter all around the room had stopped, too, everyone’s eyes on us as I tried very hard to control my own breathing. The nerve of this man, thinking I would EVER consider cheating on Massimo, much less with someone as sleazy as him!

“Principessa?” I heard my boyfriend’s voice approaching, but I was still trembling from the anger running in my veins. “What is going on, my love?” Massimo’s hands engulfed me, wrapping themselves around my body before pulling my back to meet his chest, and for the first time since he had left me to talk to his partners, I felt myself becoming calmer.

“This man thought he could seduce me,” I explained coldly, my eyes still connected to Lucca’s as he wiped the drink from his face with a handkerchief the bartender had produced from behind the counter. I was expecting to see fear appear in his face, or at least for him to lose some of the vivacity that was still behind his eyes, but when no change appeared other then the loss of his smile, since his lips were now pressed together in a tight line, I was left even more confused.

“Is that so?” Massimo asked, clicking his tongue from behind me, his fingers possessively holding onto my hips. I could hear that at least he was amused by the situation, from the tone of his voice, but I had no idea why. “Will you look at that? I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lucca, I’m sure you’ll find someone else to fuck away your resentment towards me later tonight. For now, excuse me and my girlfriend, I wanna make sure that she’s okay.”

My boyfriend’s reaction was so unexpected to me that he practically had to drag me away from the living room where all eyes were still on us, taking me to one of the hallways where I assumed the bathrooms were located.

“Massimo!” I whisper-shouted, absolutely frazzled by his and everyone else’s behavior that evening. “What the hell is going on?” But Massimo didn’t seem in the least worried about my own confusion, his eyes drinking me in against the maroon walls of the hallways with even more desire than earlier in the evening, when I had to force him to leave our bedroom so we could make it on time for this dinner. “Massimo!” I tried again, finally breaking him from his trance as he blinked twice before connecting his eyes with mine, licking his lips.

“What was it, baby girl? You really look delectable tonight, have I told you that before?” He answered, leaning over me until I was trapped between his body and the wall, my irritation suddenly disappearing to give place to the instinctive desire that filled my body everytime Massimo came near me. Especially when he was nuzzling on my neck like he was doing right at that moment.

“Yes, you have. Massimo, what’s going on?” I asked, suddenly startled by the realization that he was working on opening his belt. “What are you doing? Massimo, we can’t do this here!” I admonished him, but he already had a grip over himself, his other hand swiftly looking for my panties before pushing it away and plunging a thick finger inside of me, checking my wetness.

“Oh, we can and we will. You know why, principessa?” He picked me up like I weighed nothing, and I wrapped my legs around him instinctively, my head falling back against the wall as one of his hands rubbed the thick head of his cock against my clit. “Because you are mine.”

Feeling Massimo stretch out my walls was something that took the breath away from me every single time he first pushed in, it didn’t matter how many times I had him inside of me. He was always too fucking large, his cock too fat for my pussy - especially when he didn’t gave me the proper preparation, like now.

“And you’ll let me do whatever I want with this perfect body, won’t you? Especially after one of my biggest enemies had the nerve to try to hit on you.” Gasping, I held onto Massimo’s nape as I tried my best to contain my moans by biting my lower lip. “None of that, baby girl, I want you to scream my name. Show him you’re mine and only mine. C’mon, cum for me. Scream my name. Let them all know you belong to me. That I own this fucking pussy.”

The sounds of my wetness and his body meeting mine were certainly being heard throughout the room by now, how much worse could it be if I simply relented and fulfilled my very possessive and incredibly insecure boyfriend’s wishes? I’d never truly know, because then Massimo’s thumb met my clit and I was instantly out of control of my own body, screaming his name as my cunt milked his cum inside of me.

“I don’t know how to get back there,” I admitted, embarrassed just by the thought of walking out into the very fancy dinner after they had all but witnessed me getting railed by the smug Don that looked unfairly sexy after our franctic lovemaking.

“With your head high, knowing you’re the only one who can make me lose my mind like that, and my cum dripping down your legs. Now let’s go, bella.”

#massimo torricelli smut #smut #massimo torricelli #my fics #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #massimo torricelli reader #massimo torricelli fanfiction #365 dni smut #massimo torricelli writing #massimo torricelli oneshot #massimo torricelli imagine

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

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-Second And Third Chance- Tony Stark x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: favorite dilf- i’m sorry lmao

Movie/Show: after endgame. but no one is dead because i’m still in denial.

Summary: (Backstory included) Being the fiancee of Tony Stark was all you could dream of, but not everyone is perfect and Tony is certainly no saint. Even with Thanos being gone, Tony is still obsessing on how to keep you safe from other worldly beings, but due to his own ignorance ends up losing you all by himself.

Possible Triggers / Warnings: angst with fluff ending, cursing, Tony being Tony, F.R.I.D.A.Y and Wanda being your besties lmao,

☼-☪-☼

you wondered how you were ever came across such a man. Narcissistic, arrogant, just completely full of himself in every way possible. You had met the infamous Tony Stark at a shield ball/party so long ago. He was charming, you’ll admit, but you were fully aware of his playboy status.

you wore a long black off the shoulder dress that started skin tight at the top and flowy at the bottom, also sporting a slit down the side of the dress. Some said hi and gave you compliments on your outfit. You wanted to find Fury so you could talk to him as he was the only person you really knew.

walking along the floor a woman holding a platter of drinks offered you one and you gladly accepted it. You spotted Fury a few tables away, talking amongst Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers. Once you made it over, you slipped yourself into a empty seat.

Fury noticed you first and patted your shoulder “Didn’t think these parties were your scene Agent L/n” he spoke with his usual formality. You hummed into the glass of wine as you took a sip “They are not, but i needed a reason to drink” you admitted, earning a chuckle from Natasha.

you then took the time to look at both of them and smile “Natasha Steve. Still doing the whole saving the world thing?” you say. Steve cracks a smile and nods once “The world can’t seem to give us a break” he says. A chuckle bubbled in your throat “Not that you would take it though, right cap?”

you four spent a good thirty minutes talking about the usual, until Maria Hill showed up then you got to talking about new missions that he Fury only trusted you all with. You were like Fury third in command. Someone Maria had recommended if something would have ever happened to her.

not to long Natasha and Steve had left the party earlier then expected, but they were always in the rush. You, Fury, and Maria were now standing next to the table. Maria’s phone rang and she slipped it from her bag and pressed the green button “Yes?...Give me ten minutes”

she hung it up and put it back in her bag. Fury looked at her with a questioning stare “I’m going to assume Romanoff or Rogers were on the end of that line. Would the rest of us be needed?” he asked. Maria shook her head “No. Just a minor problem. I’ll call if it escalates”

Fury nods once and gestures with his head to the exit, dismissing her. They were so loyal to each other. Maria then sends you a polite smile before exiting the ballroom. You placed your cup on the table were you all resided minutes ago “Should we be concerned?” you ask.

he shakes his head “They’ll be fine. I like to come in at the end anyway, makes me alluring” he says, making you stifle a bit of laughter. “Right” you agreed not really wanting to dwell in that subject. Only seconds later is when an unfamiliar voice spoke “Nick”

both you and Fury turn around and see the nice tailored suit belonging to the less nice man of Tony Stark. Fury cracks a small grin and holds his hand out “Stark, fashionably late” he points out. Tony grabs his hand and shakes it “Well if i wasn’t i’d be stuck looking like you losers.”

did this grown man just call you both losers? Okay then. You folded your arms over your chest, not really paying much attention to there very testosterone filled conversation. Tony eyes removed themselves from Fury and looked at you “and who is this?” he asked.

you removed your eyes from the people walking past you and looked towards the billionaire “ This is Agent L/n. works alongside Agent Hill and myself” Fury explains. You give Tony a polite nod “It’s Y/n L/n” you say. Tony grins and went to say something more when Fury coughed.

“I’m going to use the bathroom. Tony don’t be weird” he spoke before leaving you both by your lonesome. Great. “May i offer you another drink?” he asked and you shook your head “I already had one and i have to be alert at all times. It’s in the job description. Very fine print”

“Sounds like you need a vacation or a xanax” he makes a face, earning a small smile from you “Maybe, but i like my job too much” you reply. Tony steps to the side and gestures with his hand for you to walk. You didn’t see much wrong with that, just a friendly stroll. Why not.

you step in forward and Tony lifts his arm up a bit for you to link yours. ‘What a charmer’ you thought before slipping your arm through his. YOu both began to walk slowly through the ballroom “So what does your significant other think about how much you work?” he asked.

‘very slick’ “I don't have a boyfriend or girlfriend at the moment. Tried dating on the job, but no one really understands how much working here changes you in a way” you explained, Tony nodding along with your answer. Being an Agent had its perks and downfalls.

“Why did you get into this line of work, if you don’t mind me asking?” Tony questions. It was strange seeing him be so genuine with his wording, the complete opposite of what Fury, Steve, Natasha, or Maria had to say about him. It was pleasant.

you gulp, a few choice memories deciding to flood your mind “I worked CIA with my sister for awhile. Our whole family was worked in some form of Government job. Then the 2012 attack happened and we were told to stand down. Me and my sister were stubborn so we didn’t”

you inhale deeply and managed to keep your formal smile upon your face despite the urge to down another glass of wine and call it a night “No one knew about aliens back then, but we wanted to help people in any way we could. In hindsight it was very stupid of us”

your mind began to wander to something else, the smile fading from your face and be replaced with a blank stare. For an expression so neutral it would be hard to tell that you were reliving a terrible memory. Crashing, a blood curdling scream, your pleas, and a then silence.

Tony looked at you once you had stopped talking abruptly and used his free hand to pat your shoulder. You broke out of whatever horrific trance you were in “Sorry, zoned out- anyway my sister ended up passing, i was charged with treason funny enough, but Fury convinced them to drop the charges”

Tony chose to ignore the brief daze you were in for your own sake and you two continued your stroll. The night ended with more talking and much needed laughter. He also offered you a ride home and you gladly took him up on that. It was really nice.

when you got to your house he asked you on a date to a very nice restaurant near your place. You accepted even though your brain was telling you not to. On the day of the date you ended up being called in and canceled. He said he understood and that you could reschedule anytime.

you never did go on that date

☼-☪-☼

just like most things it only happened once and you figured that was that. Spending a couple magical hours talking to Tony Stark would be any girls dream and just like dreams you awoke to reality. You had a job and had many other important things to do beside fantasize about a billionaire.

that was until Hydra took over Shield in 2014, you and Fury faked your deaths. Tony actually went to your funeral, wearing sunglasses and standing away from everybody. It was pretty sad, but you had a job to do. fury actually came back, but you stayed in hiding.

then in 2015 when Ultron was a the main problem and you were itchy to bash some robots skulls in- wait they don’t have skulls. Whatever, Fury wouldn’t get involved. Then Sokovia became a giant plane and Fury caved. After a year of doing grunt work you could finally fight.

all the staff, including you loaded up a helicarrier. You made your way to the command center where Fury and Maria resided “Ah Agent Y/n. Glad that you could join us. Already suited up i see?” Fury points to your all black outfit and mask.

shrugging, you walked towards the front “I’ve been ‘dead’ for a year, cut me some slack for being excited” you say. Fury nods, agreeing with your statement before facing forward. “Set a course to Sokovia and making it fast” Maria announced.

and with that, you were off

☼-☪-☼

Maria hacked into the Avengers coms and connected Fury’s, your’s, and her own. “Where else am i gonna get a view like this?” a woman said through your earpiece. You instantly recognize it as Nat. You missed her so much, god you couldn’t wait to talk to her again.

“Glad you like the view Romanoff. It’s about to get better” Fury spoke, folding his arms behind his back, interlocking his hands. The helicarrier started to raise above Sokovia. Holy shit this is high. As you ascended you were able to see Nat and Steve standing together. Nat cut her hair, it looks pretty.

rest of the staff began to enter the command room and set up “Nice right? Pulled her out of mothballs with a couple old friends. She’s dusty, but she’ll do” he spoke. “Fury you son of a bitch” Steve said right back. Did he just curse? That had to be Ultron.

“Woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fury said with a fake surprised tone. His comment made you chuckle a bit since he had a foul mouth. Hypocrisy am i right? “Altitude is 18,000 and climbing” Maria spoke, typing away on her keyboard like desk.

another guy spoke up from behind you “Lifeboats secure to deploy, disengage in three...two...take them out ” he clicked one final button and sat back. You felt the helicarrier rumble beneath you, which meant the lifeboats were being sent to the ground.

oh shit. You were supposed to be on one of those. “Shit!” you yell before running out the command room. You raced down the stairs and made your way to the deck. You watched as a lifeboat flew right below. This is such a bad idea. Your doing it anyway.

taking a couple steps back, you mentally prepare yourself before running as fast as you could. As you touch the edge you jump and launch yourself off the helicarrier. The lifeboat came closer to you until your shoulder collided with it. You hissed and slowly pushed yourself up “Damn- that’s gonna sting”

“Did you just jump off the helicarrier?” Fury says through the coms

“Who did?” Steve spoke

“Oh you know, backup-” Fury replies before Maria cut in “Sir we have multiple bogeys on our starboard flank” she spoke and indeed when you looked up you saw a bunch of Iron man suits flying above. Oh shit. “Show them what he got” he replied back.

you reach down and pull both guns out the holsters that were on both of your thighs “It feels good to be back” you said to yourself. You heard something fly above you that wasn’t a Bogey and saw War Machine- Rhodey blasting through a bunch of them. He’s pretty cool.

just as you were about to bask in the moment a Bogey landed on the lifeboat and came charging at you. It swung and you ducked just in time, lifting your foot to kick it in the chest. As it stumbled back you raised your gun and shot it straight in the head.

the literal lights behind its glass ‘eyes’ flickered until it shut off and it fell to the ground. “It better not be that easy to kill the actual Iron Man” you spoke. “And your not gonna find out” a voice spoke. You turn around and see Tony in his suit, with his arm raised, ready to attack you.

you raise your hands “Woah- What the hell Stark!” you shout. Oh shit- you had a mask. “I’m on your side” you add. Tony tilts his head “Really, prove it” he says. You slowly move your hand. as to not startle him and slowly pull the mas down from your face “Hey Tony”

he visibly tensed up. His mask retracting back into his face. Still has handsome as ever. He reaches up with both arms and takes off his helmet, dropping it to the side. “So is faking your death a Shield initiation thing or you just really didn’t want to go out with me?” he asked.

you cracked a smile and dropped your arms to your sides “I told you work gets in the way” you said. He went to say something when four Bogeys landed on the lifeboat. Damn you couldn’t let any on until you landed. Tony groaned dramatically and shot one in the chest, causing it to fall off the ship.

“No. See regular work doesn’t involve faking your death. I went to your funeral you know?” he says. You drop off and push off the seat and onto the Bogey, wrapping your thighs around its head. You push the barrel of the gun against the top of its head and shot “I know. I was there!” you shout.

“Oh that’s just great. You saw me all vulnerable and teary” he says with a scoff. what was happening right now. You drop to the ground and the Bogey grabs your leg, pulling you back. You shot it in the arm and it lets go “I actually didn’t know you cried. That’s kind of cute though”

you shoot the Bogey in the head and stand up on your feet. Just as you are about to take a step, a metal arm wraps around your neck, pulling you back. Oh yeah there was four. You went to reach behind as Tony shot through it’s head. The grip around your neck was released and you pushed it’s corpse off.

“Your welcome” Tony spoke, he still sounded snappy. “Your such a baby Tony. What can i do to make you stop moping?” you ask, putting one of your guns into the holster. You look behind you as the lifeboats pull up next to Sokovia “One date after all this. So i can show you what you missed of course”

you crack a smile, pulling your hood off your head. You raise your hand and hold up one finger “One date. That’s it” you say and he nods along “That works for me” he replies before picking up his helmet. He puts it on his head “But you’ll come back for more” he says as his face is covered by metal once more.

☼-☪-☼

present

you ended up did going on that date with Tony and he was right, there would be multiple date and girts until he finally asked you to be in a relationship. It was any big grand gesture that you expected from him, it was simple and sweet. It took him three years for him to propose in 2018.

but he was always one to wait.

the second battle with Thanos, but everyone seemed to be somewhat recovering, but Tony wasn’t himself anymore. You already knew he was a workaholic, but it had never been this bad. He’d stay up all night working on new tech. Security, suit adjustments, anything.

when it first started happening you chalked it up to his response to trauma. One night you suggested he’d go to therapist. Just one session and if he thought it would work then he could continue and vise versa. Tony ended up shooting down the idea with a couple harsh words.

it was strange to see him yell at you because he had never done before. It was like you were talking to an entirely different person. It scared you to be honest, but you loved him. A whole year after Thanos had gone by and he was just falling deeper and deeper into his work and less into you.

“Friday, is Tony awake?” you spoke, pouring coffee into a black mug. You place it on the silver tray and grab the light beige cardigan off the counter, slipping it over your white sports bra. “Yes Miss. Would you like me to inform him your coming down to the lab?” Friday asked.

“No that’s alright. I’d rather surprise him. Thank you Friday” you say and grab the tray off the counter, it had a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes. You knew he wouldn’t have eaten already “Just doing my job Miss” she replies. You smile to yourself. You liked listening to her accent.

☼-☪-☼

you push open the door with the side of your hip since your hands were full “Tony!” you call out, looking around the lab one time. You stop as you see your lovers head pop up behind a machine you were unfamiliar of “Y/n? What’re you doing up? It’s late” he said, putting down a tablet.

you roll your eyes and walk over to the big table in the middle, placing the tray down “It’s nine in the morning, love” you reply. Was he starting to lose track of time now? This place needed more windows clearly. Tony put on a confused face as he scratched the back of his neck “Really?”

nodding, you lift up the mug of coffee from the tray and make your way over to Tony. You dodge a few tools laying on the ground and hand him the cup “Drink” you say. He takes it from you and brings it to his lips “Thanks” he says. While he drank you studied his face. He looked so exhausted.

it broke your heart

“You look terrible by the way” you comment, causing him to crack a small smile. “You said yes to this face, remember that” he retorts. Well he wasn’t wrong about that one. “That is true, seriously i want you out the lab today and into bed. Tomorrow is an important day”

Tony goes silent for a moment and you can tell he was trying really hard to think “Tony” you said, your voice sounding like a mom who was getting ready to lecture there child for forgetting to do homework. “I know i know- important day. Can’t wait for that...day”

you narrowed your eyes “Friday” you called out. “Yes Miss” she replies instantly. “Read me Tony’s schedule that he set for himself for the week” you ask. Tony steps forward, but you take a step back, moving away from him. “There is nothing on Mr. Stark’s schedule this week Miss”

wow

moving away from Tony, you walk over to the table “It’s our anniversary tomorrow you ass” you snap at him. Tony sighs and runs his hand over his face “I’ve been busy-” “You’ve never forgot it before” your tone was unusually calm, which through Tony off.

“Thanos is dead Tony”

“I know-”

“Then what are you doing?!” you shout, shocking yourself at the loudness of your own voice. “I’m trying to keep you safe!” he exclaims. Your fist clench. God you loved this man, but you wanted to punch him in the nose “You know i thought that you would get over this, but i can’t take much more”

your words seem to scare Tony a bit, but you continued to speak “It’s been a year Tony. You don’t sleep next to me, we barely talk unless it’s me making sure you don’t fucking starve to death, we haven’t been intimate in god knows how long. I’m tired of being neglected”

crying for a man was so pathetic, so you reached up and wiped any forming tears away with your thumb. Tony reached his arms out and wrapped them around you. You wanted to push him away, but he hasn't hugged you in so long, so you gave in.

he rubbed the back of your head as you let a few tears fall onto his shirt “I’ll stop okay- look i promise i’ll get some sleep and will have a whole day together okay?” he says. You were mad and you wanted to scream at him, but you also loved him and wanted to give him a second chance.

“Okay, but i swear Tony. You screw this up and-” you were cut off by him placing his lips on yours. Damn Stark. You smiled lightly into the kiss and pull away a couple seconds later “and you’ll throw me out on my ass i know.” he says.

you ended up making Tony go to sleep in your shared room while you cleaned up his lab and such.

☼-☪-☼

the anniversary, night

you were waiting outside a restaurant since Tony wanted to show up in his car to ‘swoon’ you wearing a black jumpsuit, it was his favorite color on you You looked at your phone and noticed he was about ten minutes late, but that didn’t worry you much since he liked to be fashionably late.

he’d come. He wouldn’t risk his last chance.

would he?

☼-☪-☼

after two hours Happy ended up picking you up and taking you back to your home. He apologized for Tony a couple times, but you said it was fine. Once you got home you kicked off your heels at the door. You were kind of running on autopilot just in shock and realization at the same time.

you knew what you had to do, but at the same time you didn’t want to, but it was over. You gave Tony a chance and he blew it. Nine years down the drain in a flash. You just couldn’t believe it. Walking down the hall, you wipe your face from the warm tears.

shutting the door to your shared bedroom, you go over to the closet “Miss you seem to be in distress is there anyway i can help?” Friday spoke. For an AI she was very self aware on feelings. “Is Tony awake Friday?” you ask, going over to your closet. “No Miss, he is asleep in the lab. May i call someone for you?”

you open the closet and pull out a suitcase you had in there and bring it over to the bed “Call Wanda” you say as you unzip the suitcase, opening it up and throw it on the bed. “Of course Miss, contacting Wanda Maximoff” she replies. After a couple seconds you hear her voice.

“Y/n? It’s late, are you alright?” she asked. You had confided in Wanda about your relationship problems with Tony since you were both in a long term relationship. You had also told her about the anniversary thing and Tony’s last chance. she said if it didn’t work out yo could stay at her place.

“Hey Wanda- uh. Yeah i know it’s late but-” you didn’t get to finish speaking when Wanda cut you off “Are you crying? Tony didn’t come did he? Know what? i’m on way. He better like a car through his window” she threatens, you could hear her moving around and the sound of keys. Well damn-

you began to grab your clothes from your dresser and stuff them in your suitcase “He’s sleeping, just pull in the front. I’ll send you the gate code okay?” you say, beginning to take off the jumpsuit you were wearing. “Fine, but no promises if i see him in the street. I’ll see you soon Y/n, goodbye”

Wanda hung up the phone “Friday-” “I sent Wanda the gate code. Before you leave would you like to leave a message for Mr. Stark?” Friday asked. You grab a dark green sweater and jeans from your dresser and throw them on quickly. You didn’t bother to pack the jumpsuit.

you wanted Tony to know why you had left so he could see the consequences of his actions and so that he wouldn’t tear the city apart thinking you were kidnapped. “I will, can you record a holographic message?” you ask. “Yes Miss, also Wanda will be arriving in 15 minutes”

“Okay”

☼-☪-☼

Tony awoke to the sound of his alarm blaring off into his ear “Shit. Friday shut that off!” he groans, lifting his head from the table “Yes Boss” she replies and the alarm shuts off. “Y/n has left a message for you to listen too. It is very important” she adds.

“Play it” he says going to lay his head back down on the table “It is a holographic message, Boss” Friday says. Tony begrudgingly lifts his head and leans it on his arm “Play it” he repeats. A second later you appeared sitting on the chair at the table with a blue hue around you.

“Hey Tony” you spoke a half smile on your face. tony would have found comfort in it if he doesn’t your puffy eyes and saddened expression. His head lifted on his arm “Remember our anniversary, you know your last chance and all that? Yeah.” you began. Tony sighed mumbling curses under his breath.

“I care about you, i have since you talked to me at the Shield dance, but i haven’t been your first priority in a while and i get it, but you promised when i left Shield that you would always make time for me. I know that Thanos shook you and you won’t admit it, but you need realize that something bad isn’t lurking around every corner”

Tony watched as you reached up and rubbed your eyes, the scene tugging on his heartstrings “We need a break from each other Tony, just for a little while. I’m going to stay with some friends. Please try to help yourself, get out the lab, clean yourself up, all of that.”

you pulled something off your ring finger and placed it on the table. Tony looked down and saw the silver ring with three aquamarine stones. He remembered proposing to you with it. You said the color reminded you of his reactor. Weirdly enough your hologram looked up at him and smiled.

“I’ll be waiting” you said and then flickered away “That’s the end of the message, Boss” Friday says. Tony slowly picked up the ring off the table. You had recorded the message in hear, talking to his sleeping body. He wished he had woken up.

☼-☪-☼

three months later

staying with Wanda was fun, but after a month or so you decided to get your own place. As much as you loved your big house you shared with Tony you bought small cabin well away from the city. It was quiet, it was outdoors and you loved it.

when you and Tony got engaged you ended up retiring from Shield so you could be more at home and help Tony with his work, but now even though you didn’t need a job you also didn’t like the idea of sitting on your ass. In that night of packing you put your old suit in there while on autopilot.

It took awhile, but you called up Fury and he was more than happy to let you back in “What does Stark have to say about all this?” he asked and you just sighed quietly “What Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him” you replied and he didn’t ask any more questions after that.

getting back into your old life was pretty easy. All you needed was to get back into your regular exercise regiment that you had been lacking on and you felt more confident than ever. You didn’t feel neglected or forgotten, the complete opposite, you felt badass.

one day when you were walking out the store after picking up some groceries you felt eyes on you as you walked along the sidewalk. After years of being an Agent you knew when you were being followed. What was strange was that it felt like someone was watching you from above.

having a hunch at who it might be you quickly looked up and see a quick blur of red and blue swing away from your vision. Was this kid following you? but why? You duck into an alley way and walk slowly. You hear him drop behind you and follow your steps.

“Peter”

“Hi” he replies in nervous tone. You turn around, placing your free hand on your hip “Why have you been following me all week Peter?” yopu ask. You haven’t talked to Peter in months. Did he need something? Peter lifts his arm and grabs the top of his mask, pulling it off of his head.

he was lucky you were in a remote part of the city “Mr. Stark told me you weren’t together at the moment” he starts, looking at his feet. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright” he says and flashes a toothy grin. Aw- wait. “Did Tony ask you to check on me?”

Peter shook his head “No. He’s been busy with setting up the new senteries and therapy- i mean i don’t know. I just missed you and i can tell Mr. Stark is trying to change, but i hate to see you both so sad. I couldn’t imagine not being with Mj” he says. This kid was too adorable.

not only that he went out of his way to see how you were doing. Wait- what did he say about Tony “What senteries?” you asked, stepping closer to him. Peter started to fidget a bit “Uh- i really have to get going-” “Peter” you said in a demanding tone.

he exhaled deeply, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this “Mr. Stark has a whole line of senteries to sell to the senator so he can finally retire from being Iron Man. Not fully retire just on a long term vacation- that’s what he called it.” he spoke. Holy shit- you hoped he had done this for himself

and you as well- but mostly himself

a smile creeped onto your face. The most stubborn man you had ever met changed. “When does he plan on doing this?” you say to Peter “A dinner party this weekend. I wasn’t supposed to say anything until it was done. He was going to do some grand gesture to show you he’s changed”

you shook your head and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder “Don’t be. For once i’m doing the grand gesture”

☼-☪-☼

saturday

after figuring out and planning on when and where you were going to show up you decided to tap into Friday’s systems and watch most of his speech then find Tony when the time was right, preferably when he was alone. Being with Tony for so long you figured out a way to enter your shared home, undetected.

once you were in the building you hid away in a spare room that was never used “Friday show me the room Tony’s in” you spoke, pulling out your phone “Yes Miss” she spoke and on your screen you saw Tony in the dining room. You lift your phone and flick it so its projected off the screen.

your eyes latched to Tony as soon as it turned on. He looked so different and healthy. It was pleasing to see that he was doing much better. You were also glad he took your advice. A warmth invaded your chest, it’s like you fell in love with him all over again.

gosh how you wanted to run into his arms that very moment.

“So Stark, why retire now?” the senator asked, taking a sip of wine from the glass he held. Tony seemed to tense up the question, but no one noticed other then you and Tony himself “If you asked me three months ago i would have told you to go to hell and that i don’t need to retire”

“and now?”

“Well back then i had my fiancee and thought i was the king of the world. Then i lost her because of my workaholic nature- also i’m not retiring Iron, Man will still be here for whoever needs him, but i think it’s time i put my future wife first if i want to keep her” he shrugs his shoulders casually.

most at the table were stunned into silence before the senator lifted his hand for tony to shake “I guess Tony Stark does have a heart” he spoke and Tony shook his hand. You felt something warm come down your face and reached to wipe the tears away.

god- what a charmer. Always knew just what to say.

“Well this was fun, but my finacee i’ve been talking about is actually here on the moment” he said. Wait what? You looked at the screen as Tony’s head turned towards the camera, sending you a wink. How the hell did he find out?! Tony grabbed a pen from his pocket and signed the paper.

“Happy will show you all out” Tony waved them off before walking out the room “If you step out the room you’ll be able to meet Mr. Stark in the hallway” Friday spoke. Oh so she snitched. Betrayal at it’s finest “Thanks Friday” you spoke before stepping out the room.

as you turned your head you come face to face with your husband to be, except he seemed nervous? “You look great- well you always look great” Tony says, making you form a smile “I’m proud of you” you say back. Tony reaches up, using this thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

“That means a lot coming from you. I can’t believe i let you slip away” his voice got darker, a frown forming. “I’m right here” you open your arms out. tony takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “But seriously Tony i will really leave you next time”

he nods “I know i know. You can have the whole house if i do” he says, making you chuckle. After a moment of staring into each other's eyes, silently making up for lost time. “Oh my god Tony Stark if you don’t kiss me right now-” you didn’t even need to finish before his lips were on yours.

the kiss was desperate and starved for a deeper feeling. Who knew one person could miss another so much? After this, you speculated you’d be stuck to his side like glue for a couple weeks before he say something stupid to piss you off.

Tony’s hands traveled lower and lower until they gripped the back of your thighs, causing a familiar feeling to bloom within you. He pulls away from your mouth and his lips attach to your neck, leaving hot open mouthed kisses. Zero to one hundred real quick.

“Tony” you breathed out. You could feel the smirk against the skin of your neck. Horny bastard “Tony seriously” you say, a laugh bubbling in your throat. He pulls away and looks at you ‘I’m trying to seduce you. Why are you interrupting?”

you shake your head and hook your arms around his neck “I love you, you idiot” you say, trying to catch your breath. A ego filling grin decorated his face as he pecked your lips “I love you too. Now let me get back to work” he says and goes back to kissing your neck and his hands worked off your belt.

yeah- you were in love

☼-☪-☼

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☼-☪-☼

Kody: Eh this kinda sucks. requests are open and my taglist. Anyways, peace

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