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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 7 months

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Testing One, Two, Three (S.R. Smut +18)

Summary: (Spencer Reid x Fem Reader) Spencer comes home, after a long week of being away, with a bag full of (sexy) surprises.

Content Warnings: Sex toy use, praise kink, dirty talk, mutual self pleasure, coming undone, overstimulation, very light submissive (Reader) dominant (Spencer) dynamics, talk of anal sex & pegging

Word Count: 3.3K

Note: This is one that I have had saved in my drafts for a very long time! And I just had the inspiration to finish it a couple days ago.

Testing One, Two, Three

It wasn’t strange for Spencer to make trips to the grocery store, to the used bookstore, or the pharmacy before making his way back to Y/N’s storybook Tudor home after work.

This evening proved to be not unlike the others. Spencer, driving his powder blue Volvo pulls into Y/N’s driveway. She watches from the windows as he takes out his satchel, his overnight bag, and other large black shopping bags. It didn’t look like it was from the grocery store and their local bookstore didn’t give customers plastic bags. Curious, Y/N unlocks the door for Spencer, deciding to meet him at her front stoop instead of in the kitchen or the hallway like normal.

“Hey there, love,” Spencer says, the nickname brushing off his lips with ease. He looks tired and worn down. Y/N thinks that traveling through two different time zones and not getting enough sleep is a way to do that to a person, but she decides she’ll keep that to herself and just usher Spencer to bed earlier tonight.

“Oh, Spence. I really missed you,” she confesses, breathing in his familiar scent. It's a little different. He smells like cheap hotel shampoo and stale coffee, not like his usual minty and green tea body wash and expensive coffee beans.

Spencer sighs into her neck, swaying slightly as he holds Y/N in his arms on her front stoop. His bags, even the mysterious black on, lay neglected on the ground by their feet.

“I know, Y/N. I know, sweetheart,” he reassures, rubbing his hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. “I got you something. Well, really it’s for us. But for you, mostly I suppose,”

“You’re acting clingy and squirrely,” she assesses, leaning back to look at Spencer’s unreadable face. He simply shrugs, as if to say you’ll find out when you find out.

“I need caffeine,” Spencer remarks, as he insists on carrying all the bags into the house by himself, “And something comfy to wear. I’ve been in this shirt for the last two days. There was a break in the case 41 hours in and we couldn’t break for the hotel. It was too out of the way,”

“Oh my poor boy,” Y/N exclaims, helping Spencer shed his cardigan and standing with him as he takes his shoes off, “What about a nice hot shower and then some leftovers. I made chickpea curry last night. We have leftover rice and garlic naan, too,” she offers.

Spencer, offering his thanks, grabs at his tie. His shoulders tense with exhaustion and something unreadable. He’s not usually mysterious. Usually, Spencer’s nothing but an open book.

“You alright?” Y/N asks, doling out the portion of chickpeas and rice on the delicately decorated plates she received for her 25th birthday.

“Fine,” Spencer says, clipped and detached.

So unlike him.

“Hmm. Well how was work? Anything interesting happen?” Y/N asks, attempting to spark conversation with her boyfriend. They’ve only been dating for a solid five months; enough time for whatever it was to have run its course. If Y/N didn’t know any better than she should expect herself to be circling the drain tonight along with dishes that would certainly be neglected for a pint of Java Chip.

“Fine,” Spencer says, nodding thanks for the plate of food. He shovels in a couple bites, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation.

So unlike him.

Usually, Spencer would be clamoring to talk to her. It wasn’t too long ago that they spent long nights sharing a bottle of red and talking about everything from books to movies to the meaning of life.

“Alright, Spencer. Cut the crap. Are you breaking up with me? Because if you are–?”

Shock washes over Spencer’s face. And he doesn’t wear it well. He does a spit take and it’s nearly as foolish as it looks like in movies. Spencer’s eyes grow about three sizes bigger.

“What? Break up with you? God, no,” he stammers, the sentiment clear although his efforts lacked clarity.

“Okay.” Y/N says, tossing Spencer a napkin to mop up his mess of curry and water. “Good to know. But why are you acting so….squirrely?”

Shifting in his seat, Spencer attempts to remain calm. His eyes, a honey brown with a cool brown rim, flit to the mysterious bag he brought in from his car. It was as if she could hear the whirring of the gears clicking into place. She follows his gaze to the bag.

“You bought something. Something that you’re either nervous about or embarrassed? So it can’t be books. And it’s not something innocuous like a throw blanket or pie dish. And judging by your breathing growing heavy, it’s something….salacious.”

Spencer’s thin upper lip twitches with delight. He hums, neither confirming nor denying her claims. His eyes flicker with playfulness, a contrast to moments ago when Spencer’s eyes flooded with fear and shock.

“You’re smart.” Spencer concludes, smiling with knives. He stands to presumably grab the black bag that has caused so much intrigue. “Should have been a profiler with a mind like yours.”

“I’ll stick to what I know.” Y/N tells him, her interest in the bag only growing

when Spencer places it in front of her on the table. “Let me guess, we’re at the stage in our relationship where you can buy me sexy underwear without it looking like you’re sleaze,”

Chortling, Spencer blushes profusely. His feeble attempts at hiding the bag's contents fail miserably as they only pique Y/N’s interest. His eyes are wide with wonder and anticipation in the kitchen light.

“It’s not lingerie.”

“Alright, well whatever it is, Spencer I’m sure I’ll love it. You’re being so jumpy, it’s making me think you’ve got some really kinky sex toy in here,” she says, reaching her hand into the bag to finally examine its contents. She’s good at reading faces. From the old man who reads French Literature on the Metro to the young barista at the local coffee shop, Y/N, like even Spencer admitted, is pretty well versed at reading people. Which is why, for a split second she reads pure terror in Spencer’s eyes.

“Oh shit,” she says, turning the box in her hand and reading the label. “You bought me a wand?” Her voice goes up an octave as if she’s just realizing what she’s holding in her hands.

Spencer, now thoroughly, embarrassed, covers his face with his hand. His cheeks are tinged a lovely pink and he peeks through his fingers, apparently still eager. “Will you kill me if I say that’s not the only thing in there?”

“Spencer Reid!” she shouts, slapping his hands on the table with glee and excitement. It was the very thought of Spencer Reid in a sex shop that sent both shivers down her spine, like an electric shock and shock waves of laughter through her system. “You went into a sex shop.”

“Yes, Y/N,” Spencer contends, his tone playful enough, “But please continue your teasing. We’ll see how cocky you’ll be when you’re on the receiving end of 5000 RPMS. And that’s the lowest setting,”

“Is that a threat?” Y/N asks, leaning in closer to Spencer. Her cleavage is eye level to Spencer’s line of vision. His eyes dart there to the bag and back to her eyes.

He shakes his head. “A promise. Continue,” Spencer instructs, pointing towards the bag. She listens, fishing her hand in the large bag.

“That’s a clitoral stimulator.” Spencer explains, “The website I got recommendations from says that it simulates oral sex. It has eleven settings,” he continues, watching as Y/N’s eyes grow big at the thought of the toy in her hands.

“Hmm, eleven?” she muses, putting it down next to the menacing looking hitachi wand.

“Another one? Spencer, how much money did you spend on toys?” she says aghast as she takes out yet another item from the bag.

“It’s a Lush vibrator.” Spencer explains, waving off Y/N’s concerns for his wallet. “It’s actually connected to my phone. That means I can control it, even when we’re apart. Which, considering how much we’re apart, just might come in handy.”

“This must have cost a lot of money.” Y/N speculates, staring at the three presents facing her on the countertop. “You really didn’t have to. You really shouldn’t–”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, her name sounding deadly in his breathy timber, “It’s my job to make sure you’re satisfied. And I thought it would be a little fun to bring in some…reinforcements.”

“That’s certainly more forward thinking than my last boyfriend. He was under the assumption that toys stole his thunder. But between you and me, and like every other woman he slept with, it’s probably because he hardly ever made me finish.”

“Really?” Spencer says, looking shocked. “And he was still insecure about bringing toys into the bedroom?”

Laughing, Y/N tosses her head back in a chortle. There was something endearing about Spencer’s genuine shock.

Spencer, looking half bemused and half proud, shifts in his seat. “So are we going to test them out or what?”

Twenty minutes later, they were both in her bed. Y/N, on her back, with her feet planted firmly on the bed, watches as Spencer studies her carefully. Sweat pools in her cleavage and she grabs the sheets, needing something to grip as yet another wave of pleasure washes over her body. He had already coaxed an orgasm out of her with the clitoral stimulator.

Spencer, fully dressed, holds the wand against her. He has a notebook to her left with small scribbles of notes detailing how fast she’s edged with each different toy. His scribbles, messy and disorganized at best, grow increasingly illegible. Spencer’s creases his brow, a sign of his intense determination, and is fuzzy as Y/N gazes down at him. She watches his look of stoic concentration, something that she finds entirely too attractive. But considering he plans on bringing her to climax time and time again tonight, she’ll give into her flights of fancy.

“Think you like this one.” Spencer comments. He switches the wand to his less dominant, but still skillful hand to make notes on the pad. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face, a sign that he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on.

“It’s really good.” she says, her voice betraying her already limited resolve. Spencer’s fingers lie casually on her thighs, searing marks into her legs that vaporize her skin. When he touches her it’s like her limb liquifies and her skin melts. She wants his fingerprints to sear into her skin, finally becoming part of her.

“Yeah,” Spencer asks, a sarcastic smirk playing on the corner of his mouth, “Tell me more, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels.”

Spencer’s words are punctuated by the head of the toy rolling against her clit. He never keeps it in one place longer than a couple of seconds, either not wanting to overstimulate her too soon or to keep her on her toes longer for him.

“It feels so…good. Better than it used to. Before I had you,” she stammers, the words clunky in her mouth as she concentrates on Spencer’s deft hand at her core and his warm lips against her neck.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Before you had me to keep you nice and full, you had to use things like this. But I’m gone too often for you. I need to know my sweet girl is taken care of. So we’re going to test all of these toys out tonight. Till you’re drippy little mess, begging for me to finally fuck you.”

Spencer’s sloppy kisses climb the slope of Y/N’s neck. He leaves whisper-wishes into the nooks of her skin, each one filled with promises and love. It’s a stark contrast; the sweet kisses to his hand that holds the vibrator: the bane of her undoing.

“You know Hitachi wands are excellent for clitoral stimulation. This one has only one vibration pattern, but eight different speeds. Now that sounds like a challenge. And one that I’d like to break.”

Y/N’s brow furrows as she gazes at Spencer with a deep concentration. He breathes against her neck, a trail full of wet kisses plotting their revenge against her sensitive skin. Spencer’s fingers hold the wand deftly as he concentrates the sensation against her clit. Y/N’s feet move up the bed, dragging the crocheted blanket with them.

“Holy shit, Spence!” Y/N curses, her breath bated as the wand’s vibrations kick up a couple of levels.

“That’s my girl. You like the fourth setting. Remember that, baby,” Spencer says, his lips curved into a proud smile as Y/N’s hips jut upwards in tandem with the toy, “Just like that, Y/N. I can tell you’re close. Give me another. One’s not enough for my greedy girl. And who am I to deny such a pretty face and a wet pussy. It’s all mine after all.”

She feels the wand leave her clit and venture up to her stomach. Y/N’s muscles react like falling dominos at the sensation. She tenses as the vibrations shoot up and fry her nerves. Spencer licks his lips at the sight of her arousal sticking to her bare torso. He carefully dances the wand up to her nipples, watching with glee as they pebble even further in response to the vibrations.

“One day I’ll give you an orgasm from just playing with these nipples. I’ll lick and kiss and suck on them till you’re dripping and begging for my cock to fill you up.”

“Jesus, Spencer.” Y/N pants, her hips buckling as her climax reached its peak. “Can I come, please? Please let me come again? I need it so fucking bad, baby.” Her tongue peaks out from her lips, wetting the surface as Spencer peered up at her. She grabs his collar to drag him up for a kiss just as she finally teetered off the edge, yet again.

Spencer separates from the kiss, his lips puffy and red from Y/N’s frantic mouth. He smiles, gently caressing her head in a gesture that was entirely too sweet for their current situation. She feels Spencer’s erection in his pants; it had to be almost painful by now.

“What was that two or three?” Y/N asks, a self-satisfied smirk plaguing her face. “I think we might set a record or something.”

“That was two.” Spencer corrects. He takes more notes in his little notebook. “Of at least four or five. Depending on how much you beg later.” He slips off the bed and fishes through the bag. “Now, I think I have an idea for which I’d like to try next.”

A bright pink silicone dildo with a flared based, freshly washed, lays in between them on the bed. Y/N raises her eyes in surprise.

“Most men wouldn’t be too thrilled to have something other than their penis fuck their girlfriends, you know.”

Spencer shrugs. “Yeah, but there’s a lot that we can do with it.” He claims, “Like double penetration or even, uh,” He blushes and stumbles over his next comment, “And pegging.”

Y/N grins as an overwhelming sense of arousal washed over her. “Oh,” she says, skimming her fingers around Spencer’s neck. His skin is ridiculously soft, “we are so tabling that one for later. I would love to see you a mess for me instead.”

Spencer grins. “Fuck, that’s good, Y/N. So good.” He kissed her forehead. “I wanna watch you ride it. Like you would my cock.”

Y/N nods, as Spencer shifts on the bed, allowing for her to assume a crouched position. She looks at Spencer, his eyes laden with lust and love. He sits, legs spread in an attempt to accommodate his hardened erection in the old arm chair. He looks too good to be true, his cheeks are tinged with a blush, the dances that line between innocence and corruption. His notebook is forgotten, as he needs the entirety of his attention focused on the sight before him.

“Good girl.” Spencer mutters, his hands resting on his thighs, but they twitch restlessly. It was as if he needs to physically hold himself back from ravishing Y/N at the sight of her crouched on her bed ready to fuck herself with a dildo her purchased for her. “Lower yourself on the toy. Give yourself an inch into your sweet little cunt.”

His voice is deep, yet soft as he guided her pleasure expertly. She groans as the toy breaches her cunt, the full sensation is welcomed after the last hour of the wand and clit stimulator.

“Don’t you wish it was your cock fucking my cunt, Spencer?” Y/N asks, her right hand wrapped around the flared base of the toy and the other holding herself up. Her abdominal muscles stunned with strain as her body remained in a crouched position, but the promise of release goaded her on. “You’re so hard, baby. I can see it from here. Don’t you want to touch yourself?”

Spencer bites his lip. He nods as his hands undo his belt and his hips lift up enough so he can shimmy his pants and underwear to his knees. He wraps a hand around his cock, hard and glistening with arousal, and rubs upward with a tight fist. Spencer’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he continues to watch Y/N lower herself onto the toy.

“Give yourself another inch, sweetheart.” Spencer instructs as he fucked his fist. He swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock. “Fuck I wish it was your mouth or your pussy on my dick.”

“God, you have the prettiest cock.” Y/N pants, the toy filling her up more and more as she sinks lower onto the base. “But now that we have this toy, maybe you can fuck my ass? I know you’d like that, baby.”

“Dirty girl,” Spencer praises, a smile covering his face as Y/N’s thighs quiver, “Tell me does that toy fill you up nicely? I had to pick out the best one for my girl.”

“Yes, yes,” Y/N answers, her voice rough and raw, “So good….I feel so full.” The pink dildo filled her cunt.

“Good. Good.” Spencer says, his hand moving up and down his cock at a hastened pace. “Show me how you’ll ride it when I’m not here to fuck you, baby. Show me how you’ll fuck that tight cunt.”

Spencer’s words provide the encouragement for Y/N to hoist herself up and down on the dildo. She would've laid flat on her back, a position that would have been easier on her thighs and core, but the angle she’s able to reach makes the suffering all worth it.

“Fuck…so good, Spencer. But I don’t think I can come from just this…it’s not…it’s not enough for me.” Y/N explains. Spencer knows that. He understands the science behind the female orgasm enough to know that many women are unable to reach climax from vaginal penetration only.

“I know, sweet girl. Don’t you worry.” He promises. “Bring your fingers to your clit

and give yourself some nice tight circles.”

She listens. Her fingers draw tight circles around her clit. Y/N bites her lip as she feels her pleasure build and build. “So good. So good.”

“I know, I know. Grind against the heel of your hand. You go wild when I do that, love. Like a little fucking minx. You can’t get enough.”

The tension builds in her stomach as she grinds against the heel of her hand. Cursing, Spencer watches with lust-laden eyes as Y/N writhes on the bed. Sweat forms against her brow as her feet dig into the mattress and her thighs burn in exhaustion. Until she finally feels that familiar burst of pleasure release.

“Fuck, fuck,” She curses, so caught up in her own pleasure the room seemed to spin around her. “I–I…Spencer, I’m coming.”

Her release washes over her as she slumps down into the bed, finally spent with all her energy expended. She can barely hear Spencer shuffle over, nearly tripping over his feet since his pants remained gathered around his ankles.

“Holy shit.” Spencer curses. “That was the most sensual thing I’ve ever seen.” He looks at her with half awe and half love. He pulls his underwear back up and kicks his pants off as he sits on the bed. “Are you alright, babe?”

Y/N groans, her cunt is raw with overstimulation and it is like every single nerve in her body is lit on fire in the best way possible. She offers Spencer a weak thumbs up that morphed into an equally weak fist bump. He obliged and gave Y/N a sweet forehead kiss in return.

“So toys are a plus for us,” Spencer muses. He adjusts the pillows on the bed and helps Y/N sit up in a more comfortable position. “Thank you for this. I really enjoyed it. And I’m, you know, glad you’ll be occupied when I’m gone.”

Y/N’s face flushes as a warmth resembling love covers her entire being. “I should be the one thanking you,” she counters, “Wait…I didn’t get you off.” She says, sitting up and then failing as her tired body gave out.

“That’s a problem you already took care of,” Spencer protests, gesturing to his stained underwear. “I had already come untouched by the time you told me to touch myself. You put on quite the show, sweetheart.”

She raises her eyes in disbelief as Spencer chuckles and kisses her cheek. “I’m glad you found that equally pleasurable. I don't think I’ve ever come as hard as I just did. And I doubt it’ll ever happen again.” She rises from the bed, with the help of Spencer. He grabs her waist as they make their way into her bathroom.

“Is that a challenge?” Spencer says, with a cocky smirk

“Fuck yeah it is,” Y/N said, “but I think I need like three weeks to recover.”

Thank you for reading! Please remember, I appreciate you reading, reflagging, and commenting on all of my fics. I love your feedback and appreciate your support & community more than you'll ever know.

Tag List (I don't want to bother anyone, so just tagging people I mainly interact with)

@reidsbookclub @foxy-eva @reid-ingandweeping @boldlyvoid

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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crippleprophet · 1 month

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i don’t understand how people can be so fucking cruel about people who can’t read much (including people who aren’t literate, though this post is from my experience with chronic illness). like, one of my main motivations behind posting excerpts of butch+femme writing on my main (@campgender ; it’s fine to go through my bookshelf tag but please only followers age 18+ on that blog!) is that it is fucking hard to read a full book!!

my reading comprehension & stamina decreased drastically when i developed ME, & while i’m overjoyed that i’ve recently regained a lot of that particular ability since getting blackout curtains, there are absolutely still texts i can’t even begin to parse that i once would’ve loved digging into — texts that it would be actively dangerous for me to attempt to struggle through because it would break pacing.

idk i’m not trying to be self-congratulatory here or whatever but like. the second i could access information through this means again, the focus of my (very fucking limited!!) energy has been giving it back to my people. my life has been unquestionably, deeply shaped by tumblr users who share excerpts of theory & memoir & poetry because they were providing labor of which i was in need & incapable.

finding, selecting, transcribing, formatting, & at times contextualizing passages takes a lot of fucking time & energy, but in order for me to encounter certain concepts, experiences, & histories, it’s work somebody else had to do, because i couldn’t read 200 pages of research or anthology in order to encounter the 10 that would change my life — but posted 2 or 3 pages at a time, i could save that in my drafts to get through on a good day, & quotes that were only a couple lines i could usually read right when i encountered them.

so, in memory of the years i spent unable to access theory through anything other than excerpts & secondhand summaries,

and in anticipation of the years to come where i will live the same,

and in acceptance that the brain is a muscle, in love of we the exercise-intolerant,

to you, dear reader — whatever form & frequency & duration that reading may take, even if it’s no further than this post — i make my motherfucking covenant: the issues i discuss around pulling quotes will be about the political act of the ellipse and the ethics of transcription, not shaming people for the methods of accessing information that are available to them. as often & as long as i am able, people can ask me to explain something or summarize in plain language and i will meet them with respect, interest, & effort. if someone’s looking for information on a particular topic, identity, experience & doesn’t have the energy to find it, i’m gonna give what i have towards filtering through the bullshit for the gems.

according to our abilities. according to our needs.

and the next time somebody tells you it’s not ableist to say everyone has to read [whatever work], tell them to go put their precious ability to better use in making it more accessible.

#mac.txt #continuing my trend of showing up on this blog once every couple months with an infuriated rant & then fucking off back to bed #me/cfs #reading #chronic illness #ableism

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

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request; omg can we get one where it’s like that one trend on tiktok where the girls wearing lipstick n it goes to her bf w kisses on his face😭😭😭 PLEASE I KEEP SEEING IT EVERYWHERE

warnings; fluff, maybe suggestive

pairing; jj x fem!reader

authors note; i’ve seen the tiktoks too my fyp is obx and couples rn :,) love this, thank u for sending this in. after the day i’ve had i enjoyed writing something small and pure. and i accidentally posted your ask when trying to save to drafts i ended up posting it so i hope u still see this <3

lipstick tiktok (example)

“The red lipstick is new, baby.”

JJ’s voice was raspy, having sat in that same criss crossed position for around an hour, on the carpeted floor beside you, whilst you brushed makeup products gently to your skin. Detailed review of the products you typically use, and that deep rouge lipstick was not one of them.

You were sat at your vanity, preparing for a party at the boneyard. It was the last get together for the summer, so you were tedious in being sure that this makeup look was one to remember.

He resembled that of a small child, the way he’s been beaming up in astonishment. Admiring every move you make to enhance the impeccable beauty you already had to start with. And reminiscing at the fact that you were his, truthfully his in every way.

“Mhm,” you breathe, deciphering wether or not you should take the risk of wearing the color or not. Typically sticking to nudes and neutrals, this was something out of your comfort zone.

“You gonna’ wear it?”

“Should I?”

He gives you a ‘you would look perfect wearing a fucking trash bag, did you really just ask me that’ look. His hand grasps your thigh, thumb reassuring you against your flesh, with small circular motions. Replacing his thumb with his chin, you feel the bone dig into the thick skin— this required a better view than the one he had.

“Course’ pretty girl,” he batted his eyelashes with promise. “Now put that shit on, m’waiting.”

At that, you hesitantly take the top off of the black capsule. Twisting it up for more of the substance, revealing an untouched dark bloody shade of deep red— the most powerful shade. Divine femme fatale, if you will.

JJ could’ve sworn he shattered into a thousand bits, bursting at the seams. The way your mouth parted open delicately to apply it, so intimate and sensual.

Being that it was pigmented you merely needed a few strokes. To JJ’s dismay though, he wanted to rewind that moment, bringing it in closely to store in his brain for the long run.

Open at an angle so sacred he could sob from the sheer euphoric look.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” he can’t help the words that spill past his lips. Nearly in a trace, and he swore he felt drool leave his mouth.

“Yeah?”

You snap the cap back on, standing from the stool, sliding it inward, and JJ follows suit. Someone that was melting moments ago is now towering over you.

“Definitely baby.”

Sort of repaying him in a way, you flash a toothy grin at him, lipstick effortlessly lining your plump lips— you lean forward cupping his jaw with your palms. JJ happily obliged, not caring about the stains the redness would leave on his features. He couldn’t have asked for anything more, actually.

Your lips pucker softly, pressing kisses to every inch of skin you could reach on his face. From the small freckles that littered his jawline to the top of his forehead that was fanned by the tufts of his blonde tresses. Everywhere.

His heated cheeks. Kiss.

The button-like tip of his nose. Kiss.

His chin. Kiss.

His longing lips. Kiss.

Your mouth shape reflected on his tanned face, intricate lining of your lips, every crevice. Fragile and slow with each and every kiss.

Catching your breath, both you and JJ peer into the vanity mirror. He pulls you into his side chuckling at the reflection. His pretty face, painted in the marks of your lips. Yours, lipstick smeared with swollen lips.

This was when JJ strongly believed in the saying of ‘ruin her lipstick, not her mascara.’

“Gotta wipe it off now, J.”

You reach for a makeup wipe, not wanting your boyfriend to embarrass himself at the event to come. But he forces you into his chest to peer up at him, causing your eyebrows to knit together.

“Leave it.”

He adored the lingering sensation of your lips to the subtle skin. Wanting every part of him to be a reminder of you.

So that anyone that walks pass him could clear as day see, he desperately belonged to his lover.

“Really J, let me wipe-“

“I said leave it, baby.”

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drabblesandimagines · 7 months

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Hitched

Leon Kennedy x fem reader, established relationship Couple of swears, mentions of blood

The sudden noise behind you sends you spinning on your heels to confront it. Your pistol is raised, finger slightly squeezing the trigger in preparation to blow the next monstrosity’s head off only to see Leon’s alarmed face, his hands up in surrender, gun dangling from his grip.

“Whoa, baby, it’s just me.”

You exhale in relief, immediately dropping and holstering your weapon. “Sorry – jumpy. You okay?”

You look him up and down, looking for injuries after you’d been separated a little while ago. It felt like every other mission these days led to the two of you working your way through underground caverns, as evil scientists seem to just love setting up their bases there, with ill-maintained wooden walkways that collapsed below your feet. Leon had gone toppling down the last one, reassuring you he was fine - he did always manage to forward roll his way out of taking any impact – and said by the map he’d pilfered from one of the supply rooms, it looks like your paths would cross again eventually and it meant the two of you could cover more ground until then.

“I’m fine. You, however…” He steps forward, grasps you by the elbow and pulls it up gently in front of you to reveal a nasty slice across your forearm, dripping blood on the dirt.

“Slashed out at me as I took it out. Misjudged the space. I blame the moody lighting.” You joke, but Leon doesn’t respond, inspecting the damage.

“I’m okay. We should keep moving, we can’t be far from-”

“Uh-uh. Come on, there’s an alcove just back this way to provide us some cover whilst I see to this.” His grip is still firmly on your elbow as he tugs you back the way he emerged from.

“I promise I’m fine.”

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna leave a blood trail if we don’t. Besides, as your fiancé, I insist.”

The fiancé card is not one that Leon pulls out often on a mission, but has started to do so considering how long your engagement has been. He’d proposed two years ago, literally the moment he got you within eyesight as he returned from a solo mission to Spain to rescue the President’s daughter. He didn’t have a ring – later rectified – but just dropped to his knees and asked you to become his wife. It wasn’t like you hadn’t started wedding planning. There was a folder of brochures under the coffee table, half-drafted emails to venues and caterers on your laptop, saved photos of wedding gowns and centerpieces… But it just felt impossible to ever truly put a plan in place, nail down a concrete date, you didn’t know where the two of you were going to be one month from the next. Sorry, terrorism, could you wait a week or two for the Kennedy wedding to pass first?

“Okay.” You concede and allow him to guide you back a few hundred metres to the alcove – it’s more a deep crevice in the wall, but it won’t be obvious the two of you are hiding in there if anyone or anything was to stroll by.

“Sit.” He points to the space furthest back and you drop down, crossing your legs beneath you so he can crouch down in front. You lay your wounded arm out in front of you with a slight wince. If you were being honest, it did hurt.

“Here, chew this. It’ll make you feel better.” He passes you one of those stupid green herbs from his supplies. The man swears by them as a natural pain reliever – useful in a bind, he claims.

“Ugh, really? But they’re so bitter.” You shake your head, “I’ll be fine without.”

He quirks his eyebrow at you, pulling out a roll of gauze from one of his pouches to begin to dress your wound. “Sweetheart, either you chew it, or I will go mamma bird on your ass, chew it for you and then kiss you so hard you’ll have no other choice but to swallow.”

You laugh, dryly. “I think that might be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Chew.”

Again, you concede. Leon won’t stop at anything to ensure you’re taken care of. As his gentle fingers begin to wrap the bandage tightly around your wound in an effort to stem the bleeding, you crunch the herb between your teeth. It’s scratchy, horrendously bitter, makes you want to gag almost. You can’t chew fast enough to get rid of it. He is right about them, though – a moment or two later the stabbing, stinging pain in your forearm where the creature slashed you dulls to a low, much more tolerable ache.

He has a smug look on his face, knowing your tells too well.

“Told you it would make you feel better.”

He finishes wrapping the gauze around your arm and ties it off with a tight knot, slicing the excess off with his knife. He puts away the roll before he turns and sits down besides you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest, kissing your crown. You can feel his heart pounding beneath your cheek – he was worried about you. He knows you can take care of yourself, you’ve been through as much hell as he has, but seeing you injured always sets him off.

You know you should press on – BOWs wait for no man - but it’s clear the two of you need a moment to catch your breath, take stock of what’s occurred, work out how you’ve ended up here - again.

You begin to fiddle with the engagement ring that hangs around your neck. Too much risk wearing it on your finger when out on missions, but it felt odd and wrong to leave it at home on your dressing table, so you’d settled for having it like this, tucking it away on a chain out of sight, but playing with it had soon turned into a nervous habit.

Leon clocks your fidgeting immediately and takes your hand, lacing his fingers through. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing. Just… thinking.”

“About?” He probes, gently.

“What we’re doing here.”

“You forget the brief?” Leon teases and you elbow him lightly in the stomach – not that you’d manage much damage given how muscular he is.

“Like, is this just our life now? Every couple of months, another set of BOWs appears, we deal with and eliminate - rinse and repeat.”

“I…” He sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I hope not. I’d like to think that one day we stop them all and we get a pretty sweet retirement package.”

“I want to get married.” You say, softly.

“Hey, I’m the one who did the proposing, you’re the one who said you wanted to wait until-”

“I know, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I can’t keep holding off for a big event that I’m not sure we’ll ever get to have.” You pause a moment as you sit up, turning to face him head on. “The second we are out of here, I want to marry you.”

“Seriously?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously. Registry office. We’ll wear what we’re wearing – blood splatters, camos, bruises, all of that. I don’t care. I just want to be your wife already.”

“My wife, huh?” He grins at the idea. “Yeah, I want that too. I can’t lie, though, I was looking forward to seeing you in a wedding dress.”

“You will. We’ll do that later – a party or whatever, something that can be rescheduled easy enough if the world goes to shit. But this, this can just be us, huh?”

“Just us, baby.” He places a hand on the side of your face and guides you in for a heated kiss, teasing your bottom lip with his teeth until you permit his tongue entrance and the wrestle for dominance begins. After a moment or two, you place your palm flat on his chest and push back.

“We’re getting distracted, Leon.”

“We sure are.” He gets to his feet and offers you his hand, pulling you up with ease. “Come on, let’s go kill these bastards and get hitched.”

“Took the words outta my mouth, handsome.”

“Okay, Leon said it was casual, but I didn’t picture this casual.” Hunnigan appears behind you in the restroom mirror, dressed in her usual work suit, albeit with a paper bag in hand. Leon had radio’ed in as soon as your objective was clear – DSO teams swooping in to clear up and confiscate and destroy the weapons retrieved – and asked Hunnigan to get them into the registry office today.

“Yeah, we were going for work casual, but we had to leave the weapons in the SUV.” You shrug, washing the grime off your face in the sink. You supposed you should at least prep that much. “Thank you for getting us in.”

She shrugs, “It was one of Leon’s easier requests, funnily enough.” She holds the bag in front of her in offering. “For you.”

“Just me?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t think Leon will like it as much.” You take the bag with a smile and place it down on the counter to open it – a small bouquet of white daisies within.

“Just so I can catch the bouquet, obviously.”

Hunnigan acts as the witness, of course, as you find yourself standing in front of the officiant. He barely batted an eyelid at your attire and you think he must’ve seen all sorts come through the door in his time, so the couple who decided to get married in tactical gear, bruised and bandaged, is just another day.

“Do we have rings?” The officiant questions and before you can say no, Hunnigan steps forward again, handing over a box.

“Should’ve known you’d have our ring sizes on file.” Leon laughs.

“Had a suspicion it might come in handy one day.” She smiles, taking her place back in a seat behind the two of you. The officiant opens the box to reveal two simple gold wedding bands.

Leon takes your hand then – his leather gloves removed for the occasion – and smiles. He’s got a bruise blossoming on his left cheek, his hair’s a beautiful mess, but he’s here and you’re here and it’s perfect.

“If you’ll repeat after me.” The officiant looks at Leon, who continues to look lovingly at you, biting his lip in an excited smile. “I, Leon Scott Kennedy…”

He wets his lips with his tongue and squeezes your hand. “I, Leon Scott Kennedy….”

The vows are over before you know it. You feel giddy, a combination of exhaustion and love, surely.

“I pronounce you husband and wife. It gives me great honour to introduce to you,” he looks at Hunnigan, “the new Mr and Mrs Kennedy. You may now kiss the bride.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, pulling you in close and into a bruising kiss, dipping you back a little before returning you to your feet. “Just a little show for our guest.” He whispers in your ear, nodding his head over at an applauding Hunnigan.

“Dare I ask about honeymoon plans?” Hunnigan comments as the three of you exit the registry office. “I’m expecting the two of you back in HQ tomorrow for a debrief, after all.”

“I don’t know. Any ideas, beautiful?” Leon brings up your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss across your knuckles, the gold band sitting snugly on your ring finger.

“Yeah, I have one.” You nod. “I wanna burger – a real greasy one – and fries. And a beer.”

“I knew there was a good reason I married you.” He drops your hand and wraps his arm around your waist and slips another under your knees, sweeping you off your feet and into his arms and you squeal.

“Gotta carry my beautiful wife over the threshold of the nearest diner, don’t I?”

You grin. “That is the tradition. Oh, and speaking of traditions…” You toss the bouquet over Leon’s shoulder into Hunnigan’s arms. “Look who’s next!”

“On second thought…” she walks over to you and places them back into your hands, “keep it. I might as well wait for the redo. See you tomorrow, lovebirds. As a wedding gift, I won’t expect you in until the afternoon.”

“Too kind, Hunnigan.” Leon smirks as she waves over her shoulder and heads towards the parking lot.

Once she’s out of sight, you grab the back of your husband’s head, pulling him down into a chaste kiss and smile up at him. “I love you, Leon.”

“I love you too, Mrs Kennedy.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x 400 Followers Event.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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cal-flakes · 10 months

Text

╰┈➤ “i’ve got you..”

warnings: mentions of depression, restricted eating, descriptions of drug misuse.

summary: y/n can’t think of any other way to alleviate her pain. (this was a request, but i accidentally posted it instead of saving draft so the ask is gone.)

four days, it had been four days since rafe last heard from her, and he was starting to get anxious. the last time he saw her, she looked as though she wasn’t really there, more of a hollow shell than she’d ever been. he knew why, he knew she was spiralling, but she’d never disappeared on him like this before.

four days was a long time for them to not see each other, let alone not even exchange a phone call. rafe knew she needed some space, he knew she preferred to be left alone when everything came back up, and he was okay with that, as long as he knew she was okay. but this time, he didn’t. he had no clue.

he’d left phone calls, voicemails, texts, but to no avail. sighing, he swept a palm over his face in frustration, making the decision to just go over there.

he knew she’d be in, barry had called him a couple hours earlier to let him know he’d seen her on her way home from her shift at the wreck.

topper had also called him the day prior, having been to the wreck for some lunch with his mother. he took notice of her gaunt face which lacked colour and any sign of emotion. he made sure afterwards to pass this information onto rafe, letting him know she didn’t look good at all.

and it was true, she didn’t. she hadn’t been taking care of herself like usual, y/n couldn’t even remember the last thing she ate. she had no energy to wake up in the mornings, never mind eat and look after herself.

she settled on coffee and energy drinks to keep her going through the day, and then allowing herself to dissociate for hours when she got home.

the last few days y/n had been on autopilot. wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep…it felt like it would never end. the pain in her chest only grew when she thought about it.

she never thought doing a deep clean of her apartment would be so detrimental. coming across an old photo of her and her late brother as kids certainly wasn’t on her to do list, and have it uproot her life for the next few days wasn’t either.

she missed him dearly, not a day went by when she didn’t think about him, her big brother. and it hurt. it hurt so much to the point she was now trembling, looking at the crumbling pills in her hand.

they were old, but they were the next best thing compared to sweet nothingness. utter bliss, is how her friend had describe them to her when she bought them a few months prior.

her friend was somewhat of an expert when it came to downers, he knew his shit, and she trusted him not to give her anything that was too much or too little.

falling back against the couch, allowing the pills to slip down her throat with a sip of water, she waited patiently for them to kick in as she stared at the television.

rafe on the other hand, was on his way over, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel restlessly. he’d finally given in to his worries, too anxious to keep his promise of space.

he just had a bad feeling. sure, he’d seen her in all sorts of states before, she’d been through a lot, so he was bound to experience the highs and lows. but this, this was different. y/n had never shut him out like this before, and his stomach was doing flips every minute.

the range rover screeched to a half outside of her apartment building, the patter of rain echoing throughout the car as it landed on the roof.

pulling out the key, he twirled the bunch in his hand nervously before getting out to head inside. fortunately, her apartment was only on the second floor, so there wasn’t too many stairs to climb.

all measures of privacy were thrown out the window as he neared her door, pulling the spare key from his pocket.

he took note of the lack of noise in her apartment, hearing nothing but the television on an unusually low volume. it was eerily uncommon for y/n to not have music and the television on, as well as whatever devices she had in use in the kitchen.

his heavy footsteps padded through the hallway into the open living room where she sat, completely unaware of his presence. “y/n?” no response.

rounding the couch, he planted his feet in front of the television, causing her to jump at his sudden appearance. “y/n?” he asked again, his usually confident tone faltering.

“r-rafe…what…here?” she mumbled, her eyes flirting between him and the floor, barely open.

his mouth fell agape as he really took in her appearance. her cheeks were hollow and her eyes were unusually glassy, which was unfortunately familiar to him. he’d seen the same look in others eyes, completely catatonic.

slowly, he moved towards the couch, sitting down beside her to get a better idea of her current state of mind.

her head turned slowly to face him, still slumped against the back of the couch as a weak smile flashed across her lips.

“have you taken something?” he questioned, leaning closer to observe her. her head shook ambiguous, almost not answering his question as she reached a hand out.

looking down at her open palm, his jaw clenched as his eyes met the white residue left on her fingertips. “how many did you take?”

her hand trembled as she signalled a two with her fingers, her eyes now avoiding his.

pulling her in gently, he rested her head against his chest, his other arm reaching over her hips to pull her closer. she sank into his arms as he stroked her hair, pressing the odd kiss to the crown of her head.

“i wish you’d let me help you angel, i’d have been here in a heartbeat if i knew you needed me..” he muttered, his eyes now welling with hot tears.

tilting his head, he lay his cheek on top of her head as she rubbed hers against his chest, a silent nudge that she was listening.

her free hand clasped around his elbow, weakly pulling his hand from her head, his brows furrowing as she did. his confusion subsided as she interlocked her dainty fingers with his.

her eyes remained fixed on the television as they held each other, scared the other night fade away if they let go.

“i’m not going anywhere baby, ever. m’kay? i love you so much..” he whispered, a few stray tears seeping into the roots of her hair.

she nodded slightly against his chest in agreement, letting out a breath as he shuffled on the couch, moving to lie down. pulling her further onto him, she nuzzled into his arm as they lay there together, sharing silent tears.

“i love you y/n, more than you’ll ever know…”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #outer banks #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #obx #rafecameron #dom!rafe #rafe obx #soft!rafe cameron #soft!dom #dealer!rafe

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hollygracesworld · 3 months

Text

Falling into your ocean eyes 🌊 | Orm Marius x Fem!Reader

Part 8

Warning : Dark jokes, harsh words, & fluffy

A/N : I’ve been very busy for past 5 days, AND actually I wrote and already put it in my draft, BUT SADLY it’s been deleted twice 😭😭 luckily I wrote this story in Notes from the start, so it’s still saved. but still annoyed 😭

for the previous part click here ➡️ masterlist

After rejecting Orm's proposal, their breakfast now becomes a little bit awkward. Y/N cooked pancakes with extra strawberries and blueberries around them, and on top of the stack of pancakes she poured honey.

When Orm tasted it, he couldn't deny that this was the most delicious breakfast he had ever eaten. Orm said in a low voice, “I like this.”

She smiled, "thank you. But this is the only food supply available. Later I want to go to the Grocery Store to buy some food supplies, and also...”

She looked at Orm who was devouring his pancakes. She continued, “I think you need some new clothes to stay on the surface longer.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Arthur gave me some of his clothes.” Orm replied looked down and looked at his T-shirt with the picture of a dolphin on it.

“No, I mean I want to buy you formal surface dweller clothes, like a shirt and tie. You can't possibly wear those T-shirt with pictures of whales or cartoons to go out every day.” said Y/N while looking at Orm, “you are Royal. Former King of Atlantis, I know-“

"Yeah I think that's necessary,” said Orm, “I want to buy it myself,” he took out the Atlantis coins that were in his pocket.

“Oh you can’t buy on the surface with that money,” she quickly grabbed the coins with her telekinetic powers, and turned them into dollar bills, “actually I shouldn’t do that, but those coins can’t changed in the Money Changer.”

After that conversations, they finished their breakfast and went out to buy some food supplies at the Grocery Store. When they stopped at Fresh Fish section, Orm's expression turned very cold and unfriendly.

She saw that Orm show his angry face, “You surface dwellers have polluted our seas, and stolen so much of our fish. Don't you know the impact that is happening in the sea there?”

Orm’s continue, “you already have your share on land, but you surface dwellers are selfish so you have to steal our fish, you even poison our children in the sea.”

The fishmonger looked at Orm sharply, thinking that the blonde man in the shirt with a cartoon dolphin was a weirdo.

“Oh, please ignore him, he has a mental disability.” said Y/N, taking Orm's hand to leave the Fresh Fish section

“What does that mean?” Orm asked in a suspicious tone.

“I saved you so you wouldn’t look like a freak.” She answered while holding Orm’s hand like other married couples who were shopping for groceries

While at the cashier and she was about to prepare her dollar bills, Orm held her hand softly so she wouldn’t pay for her purchases. When the cashier told him the amount of money, Orm gave his money from his pocket.

Orm brings their bags from Grocery Shopping. The air temperature is quite cold even though it is summer now. However, she saw that Orm didn’t feel cold or anything even though he’s wearing a thin t-shirt.

“Wow, you’re looking more and more like a surface dweller now.” She said in her mocking tone.

“I honestly hate it here, the surface still fucked up for me. But do you know what keeps me here?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, then Orm continued, "You. You’re the one who keep me here. But I want you to do the same as me...

“At least before I actually propose to you to be my wife, I want you to know where I come from. Not like last time..."

Y/N laughed softly at the last sentence Orm said, “yeah, it's definitely not like the last time. It was really sucks.”

“I wish we could go to Atlantis freely, Orm… but in reality we still have to be on guard, you remember that you are still in exile, right?" said Y/N as they entered the van.

Orm looked at her face closely, through his very beautiful and unreal ocean eyes... making Y/N give up because she was lost in the reverie of Orm's eyes, “Okay, we're going to the beach now. The most near,”said Y/N in a low voice then started driving her van.

When they arrived at the beach which was busy with tourists because it was at the end of town, Orm didn’ seem to mind this even though he honestly hoped that Y/N would take them to a quiet and more romantic sea coast.

They both walked on the sand. The weather was quite hot, the combination of the sun and Orm’s ocean blue eyes in front of her made Y/N silently stunned. Orm Marius was almost perfect. Physically, blonde hair, handsome face, a sly smile that he had first met, but now she longed for a pull from Orm’s lips that painted a smile on his face. Orm’s body is very proportional, a body that has slept with her. Only her. the voice that originally issued cruel orders but now became very gentle.

She couldn’t ask for anything better.

Orm held Y/N’s hand very gently when they started treading water on the beach. The two of them continued walking and Orm motioned for the two of them to enter the beach.

Entering the sea was the second thing Y/N had done and the first time didn't end well, it even left her in a coma, but somehow Y/N agreed to this.

Orm’s ocean eyes merged into the ocean, looking harmonious and that’s when she realized that Orm looked more beautiful when he is in the ocean.

“You know we can’t dive any further even to Atlantis, you’re still in exile, I don’t want to get you into trouble.”She said in a voice underwater.

“We won’t get into trouble, darling.” said Orm kissed her hand gently.

“You guys need a ride?” Y/N heard Arthur’s voice from inside his ship which for some reason she could hear.

She didn’t understand what was happening, but Orm said, “Let’s go. I want to show you something.”

“Honestly, what's going on here? I don’t understand?”Y/N asked in confusion when she entered the ship.

“You’ll see.” Orm said smiling at Y/N then the ship drove quickly towards Atlantis.

When they set foot in that place in Atlantis, Y/N was still confused about what was happening in that place. Y/N could see a magnificent room filled with shades of red, which was actually her favorite color, a color that somehow matched her magic power.

Mera, her sister smiled then quickly took Y/N’s hand towards the changing room.

“Come on, hurry up and put this on.” Mera said then she changed her clothes in the changing room into very elegant red wedding dress. Mera did something to Y/N’s face that seemed different from what women would do on the surface.

In short, Y/N came out of the place, finding Orm smiling broadly at his future wife. “You’re so beautiful.” Orm mumbled, his ocean eyes kept looking at Y/N. He couldn’t look away. All he saw was her.

Her.

She also could see Orm returning in his typical Atlantean clothes, with his armor, which gave her deja vu because Orm looked like himself when he was still the King of Atlantis, but the difference was...

He fell in love. Truly sincere love.

“Well, this is honestly beyond my expectations, the way you married me.” said Y/N, who for some reason was the happiest bride at the moment, even though it had not been 24 hours since she rejected Orm's proposal, but she felt confident more than anything.

Let’s say that this might be too soon. Very fast. It all started when he saw a husband and wife couple holding each other at the supermarket, then he himself practiced it directly. Orm knew that Y/N really wanted him to marry her, but he realized that his proposal before was wrong.

King Nereus said breaking the silence, “My daughter, I’m sorry that all this time I have been a father who never appeared in your life. I am aware of that, but this is the only thing I can do for you.”

Mera smiled at her father, “Father is right, he did this all for your marriage. But the most important thing is, he did it for you.”

Y/N smiled at her father, then Mera, Queen Atlanna, Arthur, then her gaze turned to her future husband, Orm.

“Let's speed up this wedding, I can’t stay in the Ocean for a long time.” She said.

“Oh I can make you stay here for a long time, darling.”Orm said with a smirk face, as if he was planning something.

“I wish I could but you do realize my fucking van is still on the surface right?” said Y/N.

the end…

Actually I kinda want to make a sequel to this story, it will probably be full of smut😉.

#fanfics #orm marius #orm marius x reader #aquaman 2018 #ocean master #patrick wilson #aquaman and the lost kingdom #king orm

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compacflt · 5 months

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If you want, and only if you want to, could you explain about making Logistics a big part of Ice's career path? Not only did fit so well with your Ice's characterization, it was just so neat I've made it my HC for Ice's career path.

yes!

I got REALLy deep into the defense policy weeds in this post so I’m putting a cut to save people’s dashboards

1. when i was rewriting chapters 8 &9 last winter i did literally the bare minimum of research about the current set of high-level officers. the commander of the pacific fleet at the time had previously been the director of pacific fleet logistics ordnance & supply. So that was easy to yoink. a proven chain of succession.

2. but also: it fit ice’s (or his alter ego admiral Kazansky’s) neat, orderly, effective, collected, strategic characterization. And as professional tactics go, there would be no better promotion for a high-level officer looking to take over the fleet than DFLOS. understand the fleet by the numbers, you comprehensively understand the fleet.

3. In terms of secret-keeping logistics, ice is supposed to be kind of the best. like, because of his logistical thinking, he & maverick get away with it. Or that’s how I would’ve written it if I were a little smarter. Obviously in practice a bunch of people find out so it’s not great. but the navy AS A WHOLE doesn’t find out.

4. The field of military logistics is rigorously bureaucratic, boring, soulsucking, selfdefeating, notoriously corrupt, and yet entirely necessary for the military to succeed at any level (in the very first draft of WWGATTAI i included a famous US marine corps maxim that most people have heard at some point: “amateurs talk tactics. professionals talk logistics.” but that was literally the only good thing about the original chapter 6 which got entirely rewritten a month after i published it). So logistics as a field of specialization fit in perfectly with my secondary character thesis that rising through the boring bureaucratic ranks of the Navy sucked all the humanity & will to live out of ice one day at a time.

a couple related interesting things that I’ve never talked about on this blog & might never get the chance to again:

a) ice canonically joins the navy as a fighter pilot & ends his career as a glorified bureaucrat. that sucks. obviously the struggle to rise in the ranks is a notoriously cutthroat, political, sleazy business (you do not get to the top of the United States Navy by being nice to people), but i would also not be the first person to say that—for exemplary officers—leadership is an EXPECTATION that can counterbalance someone’s natural drive to excel, if that makes sense. You get promoted because you’re good at something (flying), but you get promoted away from the thing you were good at. There is an extent to which you have to fight for a promotion—but there is also an extent to which commanders above you pick you for the job, suck you up along the pipeline. Loss of agency—a major major component of joining the military—does still apply to upper-level officers.

B) to that end, i am reminded of one quote from Todd Schmidt’s 2023 book “Silent Coup of the Guardians: US Military Elite Influence on National Security.” This is an Army training & doctrine commander speaking: “the military has a lot of two- and three-star senior leaders that were confident, charismatic commanders at the O-6 level. But that’s the end of the story. One in fifty, maybe one in a hundred, truly have what it takes to operate successfully at the strategic level and make a real difference for their service. The problem is that they all tend to think that, since they have stars on their shoulders, they’re the one.” —I’ve been writing ice as “The Chosen One,” the officer unicorn, for two reasons: one, it provides him cover for his illegal relationship (and also asks an interesting chicken-egg question: does he get away with his rlnship because he’s so good, or is he so good JUST to get away with his relationship?); and two, he’s “the chosen one” in canon, i.e. he already has four stars in canon: canonically he is not a mediocre officer. But most officers (cough cough maverick) are not cut out for high-level leadership.

C.) in Thomas E. Ricks’ book “The Generals,” Ricks argues that (at least in the Army) mediocrity in the general/flag officer ranks is unfortunately by design. In WWII, if you were a mediocre officer, you got relieved! You got fired! It’s part of why we won: merciless culling of the general officer ranks! But between WWII and Korea, officer relief began to be associated with shame & wasted resources. Mediocre officers got promoted anyways. The military elite pipeline sucks mediocrity up the chain of command. Ricks blames this issue for (at least the Army’s) shit leadership in every post-WWII war, including but most especially Iraq and Afghanistan. There’s no penalty for mediocrity. That in turn reflects on military strategy (mediocre strategists at the helm) & the outcome of every military foray (mediocre outcomes).

D) additionally. There’s a whole neverending debate in the field of civil-military relations (an extremely interesting field of study btw) about the corporatization of the military—lots of high-level talk over the years of “running the military like a business.” If you get kinda into defense policy like me (am i still antimilitary? Idk! but i CAN easily tell you i am against the navy’s littoral combat ship program! It sucks!) then you will know that the navy is struggling right now on a lot of different fronts (procurement [shipbuilding esp. is a disaster—ford-class carriers are under budget though 👍🏽], recruitment, theatre prioritization, general preparedness, readiness against major adversaries [China in particular]). Simply, the navy is pretty mediocre at the minute. I talk a big game about ice being COMPACFLT & SECNAV, but if those are true, & if he “exists” in our current timeline, or even canon timeline (COMPACFLT in 2020), then he’s complicit in a lot of why the navy is sucking ass right now. He didn’t do his job very well. LOL. So, because I love (especially my version of) ice too much to see his legacy suffer, I am stating for the record that my timeline is a different timeline where ice saves the navy from itself and fixes all its issues & solves all its problems & makes it the pride of the armed forces & the tip of the spear of American defense :) because I said so

E.) unrelated but important. It sounds obvious but it must be said. Ice dies on the job in TGM canon. To the extent that in earlier drafts of the script, not-his-sister-Sarah even points out to maverick that ice is still active duty, in the same breath as she tells him ice is sick again. (A wise move to remove that line.) ice does not resign his commission. Ice does not retire to spend time with his family at the end of his life. Ice dies as commander of the pacific fleet. He dies on the job; he dies FOR the job, bureaucratic as it is. If you were wondering why I wrote ice so dormantly suicidal, it’s because canon (i argue) has made it clear that—since the second ice signed up to be a fighter pilot during the Cold War to the second he died active duty—ice has ALWAYS been ready and willing to die for his honorable Navy career.

#so imagine what would have happened had he been publicly dishonored 😶#It’s also why i interrupted his SECNAV tenure with his cancer #to pay respects to compacflt Ice having the same thing happen to him #my Ice is built different tho. it doesn’t kill him #he retires to spend time with his family ☺️#unlike selfish asshole canon ice ‼️🤬#/s #this post gets DEEP into it but i find this stuff sooo interesting #got really into defense policy & missing the forest for the trees #i will admit that #military bad? yes but.#but defense policy so interesting anyway.#tom iceman kazansky #top gun #top gun maverick #icemav #edts notes #asks #last post of the night

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cherishedproperty · 1 year

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Beforecare

I’ve never been someone who needs a lot of aftercare. Friends of mine talk about blankets and chocolates and water and snuggles. But even after a hard spanking, I am often good to go once I’ve caught my breath. Maybe a little cuddle or praise if I really struggled, but that’s about it.

But I’ve realized there is something I need: beforecare. Those feelings of warmth and reassurance and praise that others need after play? I need them before. I don’t just mean having a solid relationship with good communication. But in close proximity to play, I need beforecare.

Let me explain what I mean. A couple months ago, I arrived at Monsieur’s place after several days apart. He kissed me, then moved quickly into a scene—a scene I imagine he’d been planning for a couple days as a way to reconnect to each other and our dynamic. And even knowing this was his intent—even knowing he adored me—it sunk me. I grew despondent. I obeyed, but there was no connection in it for either of us. My body was there, but the rest of me was a million miles away.

So he stopped. He had me sit at his feet and lay my head on his lap while he stroked my hair. He waited for me to find the words to express my feelings, and then he listened.

Now if we’ve been apart for a while, he makes time for us to cuddle and talk face-to-face before we play. When we do that, I stay connected to him during play. Even if I don’t exactly like what he’s doing, even if he’s making me cry, I still feel the connection and the joy of service. And I stay connected and happy after play. Aftercare won’t save me from drop, but beforecare can.

Originally written in February 2020, only to collect dust in my drafts folder.

#long lost writings #personal #sccwriting

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sarcasmsweetie · 2 years

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A Better Life, Part 4

After a week’s worth of editing constantly, only to go back to the original draft and tweak a couple of things... Sigh. But we’re here reuniting with the family and IC!!

Pairing: Azriel x Older Archeron Sister

Word count: 9.8k

Part 3 | Masterlist | Part 5

Taglist: @lunalilyf @londoneyes-glasgowbones @eerievixen @hollyismentallyillhelp @parker-natasha @tbmaybank @poison-iv3 @morks-watermelon @a-little-disguised @officialmarvelwhore @vera0124 @xxoverthinkerxx @prongsraven @moontawnx

Feyre almost didn’t make it.

Nesta saved your sister.

I hope you can come meet your nephew soon.

Feyre hopes to see you.

Flashes of Rhys’ letter announcing the birth of his and Feyre’s son flashed through my mind as I frantically finished packing my bag. Various gifts I collected for the Winter Solstice and never sent. Some favored baked goods. The baby blanket I’ve knitted for my new little nephew. Everything was haphazardly packed once I confirmed with my boss that I could take a couple of days off to visit the Night Court. Cordelia was more than willing to allow me to take a few extra days than I had asked for, but Callum gruffly reminded me they’ll need me soon to prepare for the large event we were hired to cater.

I dropped Fenrir off at the royal stables, confirmed I had everything I intended to bring, then finally winnowed outside the property of Rhys and Feyre’s river home (courtesy of Rhys’ instructions within the letter he sent last night). I walked quickly up the path to the door, simultaneously grateful to Rhys for the protective wards he puts around his home, but also cursing him for having the winnowing site be so far from the house.

Knocking on the door, I reigned in any remaining panic I felt after reading the letter outlining that Feyre went into labor early and barely survived it. I pretended I wasn’t terrified at who might be in the house right now, and who I will most likely run into during my brief visit. My only focus right now is seeing for myself that my baby sister is alive and well, and that her son is as perfect as Rhys claims he is.

After a moment, the door swung open and I released the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Cassian looked at me with surprise before smiling. “I had hoped you were coming.” I smiled back.

“Like I would miss this.” Cassian opened the door further, allowing me to walk in. I glanced around the entryway, smiling slightly at the decorations that were so obviously Feyre, it warmed my heart.

“It’s really good to see you, Y/N. You look good. Real good, actually.” He scratched the back of his neck, starting to look nervous. “I’m sorry, Y/N . For everything.” I started to wave him off, but he cut me off. “You may not want to hear it, but I need to say it. We all swore to protect you, and we have failed in every possible way.” He dropped to his knee with a bowed head, and I stepped back in surprise. “I understand if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive us and the pain we have caused. But I swear to you right here, right now, that I will spend the rest of my days trying to make up for where we lacked, where we caused you the most pain.” His head remained bowed, and I remained silent as I processed what he said, what he was promising.

After a moment, I lowered myself to my knees, and gently grabbed his face so he could meet my eyes. “What’s done is done, Cass. I appreciate what you are saying and where you are coming from, but yours is not the apology I have been waiting for.” I smiled sadly and moved to grab his hands, pulling him to stand with me. “Now. I hope we can have an opportunity while I’m here to talk more, but I’d really like to see my sister right now.”

He tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Their room is down this way. She’ll be thrilled to see you. All she’s been able to talk about is your latest letter, when she’ll be cleared to visit you again… I will warn you to be prepared for Mor to pounce. She and Viviane are close, and she feels incredibly left out that she has yet to be invited to one of your infamous weekly dates.”

“Infamous, you say?” I raised an eyebrow and he smiled.

“You know how she likes to exaggerate everything to make her point. Just smile, nod, apologize that you’ve waited this long but you wanted to take some time to get to know your new friend, and that you’d be thrilled if she could join you on your next date. All will be well after that.”

I chuckled, imagining the conversation with Mor going exactly the way that Cassian described. “Where is Mor, anyways? Everyone in the room with Feyre?”

“They all stepped out to grab various supplies. With the little guy arriving a bit earlier than planned, there were some things missing. They left about an hour ago, so I would imagine they’ll be back soon.” I nodded, but was distracted by the soft voices I could hear at the end of the hall. Cassian smiled at me and knocked. “Sorry for the interruption, but I found someone lurking around the property.” I smacked his arm as I walked past and he laughed.

Walking through the door, I saw Feyre on her bed, holding a little bundle of blankets with Rhys sitting beside her. Her eyes brightened as she and Rhys smiled at me. “ Y/N!” I smiled at Feyre, greeting Rhys as he stood and moved to hug me.

“Thank you for the letter, Rhys. I came as soon as I could.”

“Thank you for coming. I know it means the world to her.” I pulled back and smiled at him.

“How have you been feeling, dad? Sunk in yet that you’ve got a little one of your own?” His answering smile was so bright I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll check in again in about a week, see if you’re still smiling like this when you no longer sleep through the night.” He pinched my arm, narrowing his eyes.

I turned to Feyre, fighting the tears wanting to break free at seeing my little sister, who fought so hard to be where she’s at, be safe and health with her son. “I am so proud of you, mama.” I kissed her forehead, moving some hair behind her ears before sitting on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling? Rhys shared some of what happened, and I am so sorry I wasn’t here – “

“I’m fine now, Y/N . We’re all fine. Nesta made sure of that.” I wiped away a tear that escaped, reinforcing my mental note to cook Nesta’s favorite meal tonight for dinner. “Do you want to meet your nephew?” I glanced down at the bundle in her arms, catching sight of the dark hair that matched his father’s. Feyre started to extend her arms, and I immediately adjusted so that she could safely transfer her son to me. “They’re tucked in the blanket, but be careful of his wings when you hold him.” Once he was settled in my arms, I did note the slight bump on his back that must be the wings in question, so I adjusted again ever so slightly to make sure they weren’t pinned funny while holding him. “Auntie Y/N, meet Nyx. Nyx, this is your Auntie Y/N. She came a long way to meet you, so I hope you behave for her.”

Almost as if in response, his big blue eyes opened and looked up at me. More tears started to fall as I immediately recognized the Archeron eyes staring back at me. “Hello, sweet boy. It is such a pleasure to meet you.” He began to wiggle and fuss, so I stood so I could sway him back into his nap. I hummed a bit under my breath, falling back on the old routines I had when trying to get one of my sisters to go back to sleep.

Moving to the window, I continued to sway with him. “You know, little one. There was a song I always sang to your mummy whenever she couldn’t sleep, whenever she was upset or fussy. I bet you would enjoy it just as much, yeah?” I heard Feyre gasp, and I turned to look at her with a soft smile. Rhys was sitting next to her and holding her hand as they both watched me as I tried to put their son back to sleep. “I think I know why it was her favorite song back then, seeing where she is today. Maybe this will be your favorite, too, my sweet little Night Prince.”

Come in close, now it’s time to tell a story Long ago and so many years before we Ever were, ever dreamed we even could be There was her and her very first heartbeat

All alone in the corner of the night sky Spiral bones of a supernova starlight Fell in love with another burning bright she Dreamed of a way to ignite she said,

Tonight Come on, come on collide Break me to pieces, I I think you’re just like heaven why

Come on, come on collide Let’s see what a fire feels like I bet it’s just like heaven

I noticed Cassian move out of the doorway, making way for everyone who had been absent to file into the room. Nesta stood in front of Cassian, eyes bright as she watched me sway with Nyx, just as she always watched me as I tried to get our sisters to settle down and rest. Mor moved into the room to sit on the other side of Feyre, sending me a small smile in greeting as she settled in. I tore my gaze away from the door as Elain and Azriel walked in, turning my focus back onto Nyx and pretending I didn’t care that they walked in together and continued to stand with one another.

Such a shame nowhere near, even the near mist light years away From the hope of being sun-kissed anchored home in her interstellar sea but, poor lonely Cassiopeia So she sighs and she burns with desperation Learns to cry over love of constellations Then the spark from a star shooting too close They both smiled what a day to explode, she said

Tonight Come on, come on collide Break me to pieces, I I think you’re just like heaven why

Come on, come on collide Let’s see what a fire feels like I bet it’s just like heaven

Just like heaven Just like heaven

Long ago in a sky built before us A supernova grew up to be stardust

I saw Nesta quickly close her hands over Cassian’s. “He’s back asleep and you want to startle him awake with your applause?” she hissed quietly. He looked sheepish, but shot me a wink.

“If this was Feyre’s favorite, any chance you can share with us what got this little fireball to calm down? Maybe it still works today, yeah?” Nesta elbowed him in the ribs, but I could see the smile she tried to hold back.

“All three had different favorites?” I looked to Mor and smiled.

“Oh, yes. All as different as could be. I could give you every detail about what each of my sisters liked, disliked, dreamed of, list out every tell they had when they’d lie, anything about them.” I glanced at Elain, who looked like she couldn’t even stand the sight of me, before moving back to Cassian. “But we’ll hold that concert off for another time. We’re not here to listen to me singing this sweet prince back to sleep, after all.” I looked down to him with a soft smile. He was beginning to fuss a bit, and I furrowed my brows. I don’t think it was the conversation waking him back up, so I brought a finger up to his mouth, and he blindly tried to latch onto it.

“The curse of being the youngest is that I never once heard Nesta’s song.” I glanced at Feyre with a small smile.

“The curse will sadly have to continue. Nyx is hungry.” His fussing started to worsen, so I walked over to Feyre.

“You’ll have to teach me all the songs you know while you’re here so that I have a library to work with when he gets fussy.” I chuckled along with Rhys.

“I’m sure anything will work, no matter the lyrics. I remember sometimes I’d just sing whatever thoughts came to mind when any of you woke up in the middle of the night.” I heard Mor laugh as she helped Feyre with the cover so she could feed Nyx comfortably with all of us still in the room.

“What was your song, Y/N?” I cleared my throat, trying to keep myself from fidgeting with the hem of my sweater, but my fingers still twitched.

“As far as I know, I didn’t have one. Mother wasn’t the most maternal of people. It’s why I raised us – she didn’t know how to.” It was silent for a moment, so I turned to my bag to try and break up the awkwardness.

“But have no fear, little dove, because I did not come here empty handed.” I pulled out a box and passed it to Rhys so he could open it for her. Feyre’s eyes lit up when she saw what was inside.

“Peach crumble bars? Oh, Y/N, thank you. Rhys can you pass one to me?” Rhys handed one to his mate, and we all watched Feyre take a bite while closing her eyes with a content sigh. “No one makes them like you. Y/N would always get as many peaches as she could while they were in season, then preserved them so she could make these for my birthday. Thank you. Truly.”

I tried to fight the blush crawling up my neck at the praise, but clearly failed. “I have a second box for you in the bag, but I was also hoping you’d let me commandeer your kitchen while I’m here so I can make a bunch of easy finger foods for you. Nyx will be stealing more calories from you than you can try and pack back in, so it’s incredibly important you eat at every possible opportunity. I did this for mother as well, and it was always easier when she was feeding you if she had something small and easy to eat at her side.”

“How long are you able to stay?” I smiled sadly at Feyre, turning back to my bag to get the second box of bars for her to try and lighten the blow.

“Two nights at most, if you can have me both nights.” Feyre looked like she was about to argue, so I quickly hurried on. “I have to get back to work. My bakery was hired to cater a mating ceremony this coming weekend, and the guest list is upwards of 300.” Out of instinct, I glanced at Azriel after mentioning something related to mates, but quickly looked away when I saw the cold look on his face. “My boss wanted me back by tomorrow morning, but his mate convinced him I can stay an extra day. Plus, I can’t leave Fenrir for too long. Viviane was kind enough to let him stay at her stables while I’m gone, but I don’t want to inconvenience them too much.” Mor narrowed her eyes.

“You and Viv have grown quite close, hmm?” I glanced at Cassian and we both bit back our smiles.

“I’m incredibly grateful for everything she’s done to help me settle into my new life. I was actually thinking that it would be lovely if you could come to one of our breakfasts. I had to cancel this coming meal because of the mating ceremony we’re catering, but if you’re free next week, it would be an honor to have you with us.” Mor released the fake glare she had in place as she let a smile take over her features.

“I thought you’d never ask. I��ll let Viv know right away to expect me. And maybe I can extend the stay for a day or two we can spend some time together?”

“I would love nothing more. I have a spare room in my cottage that has your name written all over it.” We smiled at each other, and I mentally started cataloging everything I’d need to do to prepare for guests when Elain spoke up for the first time.

“So you’re really not here to stay? Just going to leave us all over again?”

“Elain,” Feyre hissed with a glare, but I shook my head.

“You know as well as I do, Elain, this isn’t my home. I’m sorry if my departure hurt you, but when I left, you seemed to be doing just fine without me.” I took a deep breath before turning back to the bag of goodies I’ve brough with me. “Before I forget, Feyre, Lucien asked me to pass this along to you for Nyx.” Feyre smiled and before she could say anything, Elain stormed up to the bed.

“Lucien? You speak with Lucien? You think that I stole your mate, so you try and steal mine?” I raised my eyebrow at my sister, rising back to my full height after passing the stuffed fox to Feyre. I was the tallest of the four of us, standing about five inches taller than Elain and I glared down at her.

“Yes, I speak with Lucien. We’re pen pals, actually. I reached out to him asking how he’s doing and if he has any tricks to make the hollowness of your mate not choosing you go away. We’re quite good friends now, and even formed the ‘Rejected by Our Mated Like Fucking Morons’ club. We meet monthly for dinks and a good cry. It’s quite therapeutic, actually. And considering I know for a fact you have yet to make any sort of contact with him, I find it funny you try and claim him as your mate in front of me.” Elain flinched, but I didn’t care. Grabbing the final pastry box from my bag, I shoved it into her hands. “I made your favorite apple pie. Enjoy.”

I turned back to Feyre, feeling a little ashamed as I remembered where we were. “I’m sorry, Feyre. This is no place for that kind of talk. If you can direct me to a place I can set my things down, I can get cleaned up and start on making those goodies for you like I promised.”

Mor stood from the bed and raised a hand out for me to take. “I’ll show you to one of the spare rooms you can use.” I nodded, moving to reach for her and following along. Azriel was close to the door, and I made sure I avoided both physical and eye contact as I walked past him into the hall. “There are a few different guest rooms, but we have all admittedly taken them over so we can all be nearby in case Rhys or Feyre need anything. There’s one left, and if I’m right, I believe Feyre decorated it for you specifically. It also just so happens to be the furthest from Elain’s and Azriel’s rooms, if that’s any consolation for you while you’re here.”

“Thank you, Mor. Any room would have been just fine since I’m not here for very long, anyways.”

“I do wish you could stay longer, but I get it. And I promise you when I visit next week, we will have tons of fun catching up and getting wasted on wine.” I laughed, shaking my head as we entered the room that was supposedly made for me.

“Best be prepared for Winter Vodka instead. Your cousin and I bonded over it when he and Feyre first visited me. Sad that Feyre couldn’t join the fun as she was pregnant, but we’ll get her on the next visit.” More shuddered in response.

“I forgot about their love of vodka. Reminds me that I will pack plenty of wine for us instead. We can have some vodka, but I can’t make a whole night of it.” I chuckled at the dramatics, thinking back to what Cassian mentioned about her love of exaggerating things. “Well, I’ll let you get settled in here. My room is right across the hall, so don’t be a stranger if you need anything!” I smiled in thanks and watched her close the door behind her.

With a sigh, I looked around the room and smiled. Soft purples, blues, and creams covered the space. Dark hardwood floors were covered by an incredibly soft rug, and the blankets and pillows on the large bed matched the curtains that were open to showcase the gorgeous view of the Sidra. The furniture in the room matched the flooring, and I softly caressed the art hanging on the walls, clearly Feyre’s own work. The paintings all held the same blues and purples of the bedding and curtains, feeling like Feyre tried to mirror the tones of the Winter Court for me. I laughed out loud at the painting over the desk: a portrait of me petting Fenrir, which just confirmed Feyre’s designs purposefully matching home.

I set my bag on the bed, putting aside the small packages of scarves and mittens I knitted as a Solstice gift for everyone, and hung up the few clothes I brought with me in the armoire. I also took out the blanket for Nyx. It was almost completed – just waiting for me to stitch his name into the material. I planned on finishing it once I retired for the evening so that I could pass it along to him in the morning. Having everything unpacked, I freshened up in the washroom before making my way to the kitchen to focus on the main task I’ve set for myself while here.

Nuala and Cerridwen were in the kitchen and were more than happy to show me where everything lived within the cabinets. Once I was comfortable with knowing what was in stock, I asked the twins if they would be able to run to the market to pick up a few ingredients I needed both for tonight’s dinner, as well as everything I planned to make for Feyre. They nodded without question and vanished into the shadows.

I was able to start preparing the first part of tonight’s meal, so I pulled out some flour and other ingredients so that I could start making a pastry dough. As I kneaded everything together, I felt someone else was in the room with me. Looking up, I saw Nesta and smiled.

“I hope beef wellington is still your favorite. I know you’re not a fan of sweets, so I’m sorry for not having anything pre-made for you like I did the others. But hopefully I can make it up to you with your favorite meal to celebrate your fancy new title, Ms. Valkyrie.” I kept my smile up as she entered the room, sitting on a stool at the counter across from me.

“Are you sure it’s not also to honor what I did for Feyre? That’s all everyone seems to want to celebrate.” I dropped my smile, but kept my eyes on her.

“I’m not everyone else, am I? I know that was you did was as traumatizing for you as it was Feyre and Rhys, and that you still haven’t fully processed it yet. So why would I push those reminders on you when you yourself are not ready to talk about it?”

She remained quiet, so I continued to work the pastry to give her time to get her thoughts in order. “Yes, beef wellington is still my favorite. Elain tried making it soon after you left, but quite honestly, it was disgusting. Soggiest thing I’ve ever eaten.” I snorted at Nesta’s ‘high and mighty’ tone.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. But I’m more than happy to make this for you tonight.” She watched me as I worked, and I know she came into the kitchen to talk to me about something, but I could wait until she was ready. That’s the thing about Nesta: trying to push her into doing something, even if it was something she already started, results in her backing off and never touching it again. So that’s how we sat for a while: Nesta sorting through her thoughts while I worked through preparations for tonight.

“Cassian asked me to speak to you about the Shadowsinger.” I briefly paused my work, but kept my eyes down.

“And what did he ask you to talk about?” I watched her shrug as she picked her nails.

“He wants me to ask you to give him a chance. To at least talk to him. But I told him to fuck right off with that because why should I ask you to talk to Azriel when everyone was more than okay with Elain treating Lucien like actual trash? Yes, I acknowledge I was in favor of it in the beginning, but I admit he’s been nothing but respectful of Elain’s wished and I respect him for that. Especially now that I know what the bond feels like. So I told Cassian the only way I would force you to talk to Azriel is if everyone else will force Elain to talk to Lucien.” She was quiet, so I looked up.

“I’m guessing he shut up real fast about this request, then.” She nodded, moving her gaze from her nails to me. “Thank you. For being on my side.” We stayed quiet, each thinking about what to say next. During this time, the twins had arrived from the market with everything I asked for. Sensing the slight tension in the air, they sat everything on the counter before quickly making their departure.

I sorted through everything the twins brought, separating out what I needed tonight from what I would be using tomorrow, and I thought about what it was like growing up with my sisters. Nesta and I have never been open with one another, or anyone else for that matter, so I’m wondering if this is her way to extend the olive branch, give me the opportunity to talk to her like a sister. Taking a deep breath, I took the dive.

“I am happy for you and Feyre, you know. Finding someone who would go to the ends of the world for you. Someone who picks you over everything else, every time. Everyone deserves to be cared for like that. I hoped maybe to find that here, but your mate’s brother made it clear he would never pick me. And I am trying to live with that. But it’s almost impossible. Especially knowing he knew better than any of us that no one gets a second mate, yet he chose to believe the lie that Elain was his instead of me.” I turned back to the stovetop, moving forward with dinner, but continued talking in hopes it would be easier to talk to her without risking looking at her.

“When I first got to the Winter Court, Viv and Kallias were there at the border to greet me. They took me to their home and we had tea. They were asking pretty normal questions, trying to get to know me. But it was made clear I had nothing for myself. Viv asked me what I enjoyed doing, and every answer I came up with involved you three. ‘Oh, I would check in with the local bookstores to see if there was anything new Nesta could enjoy. I sharpened Feyre’s weapons when she wasn’t using them for more successful hunts. I looked for seeds for Elain’s garden.’ Not a single answer was about what I enjoyed doing, which made it clear that my sisters were my only personality trait. For 25 years, my whole life revolved around raising and caring for you that I was never allowed to figure out who I was. And it got me thinking: why would anyone choose someone like that?”

“ Y/N…”

“No, Nes. Tell me. Would you have accepted Cassian if he wasn’t so sure of who he is as a person? If he wasn’t so confident in every aspect that makes him so uniquely Cass? So why would I expect anyone to choose me, when I was so broken beyond repair and didn’t even know myself? Does recognizing that make the agonizing pit in my chest disappear? Absolutely not. I considered talking to Rhys, considering Feyre was with Tamlin when their bond snapped. But it was never quite the same – Feyre had no idea the bond was there. Instead, I chose to start writing to Lucien. He’s the only one who understands exactly what I’m feeling.”

“So you created a club and get wildly drunk once a month.” I chuckled.

“After the first time we met up, Viv and Kallias decided one of them needed to chaperone us whenever the alcohol came out. We got so drunk in the tavern the first night I couldn’t stop sobbing. I wasn’t kidding when I said we meet up to drink and cry. I may have cried more these past months than I have my entire life, but doing it with Lucien in one fell swoop every once in a while makes it easier. I don’t have to carry it with me on a daily basis, trying to hold anything back. We meet up, let it out, and then we can breathe again for a while. Maybe it’s not the best way to cope, but unfortunately we don’t know anyone else who’d been rejected by their mate, so we can’t get additional feedback on how to move on.”

“It’s not fair, Y/N. You deserve happiness just as much as the rest of us, if not more than us.”

“It’s not a competition, Nesta. And it’s not up to us to decide how others act. Everything happened the way it did, and that sucks. But I can’t change it. All I can do is figure things out for myself, one day at a time. So that’s what I’m going to do. Some days are so hard that I can’t even get out of bed. Some days feel easy in that I can smile and laugh at work, but then I come home to an empty house, and it feels like my imagination slaps me in the face with what I could have had but was never given the opportunity to even try.”

“It sounds to me like you only have bad days with a splash of good.” I smiled sadly as I finished up dinner, moving to put everything on serving platters to bring to the dining room.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever have a truly good day. Not for a long time, at least. And as Fae now, all we have is time.” Seeing that everything is ready to be moved, I turned back to Nesta. “We can talk more later if you’d like, but can you tell everyone that dinner is ready? I’ll start moving everything to the dining rom.” Nesta grabbed the bowl with the glazed carrots and platter of asparagus as I brought the whipped potatoes, and she set off to find everyone else once we placed them on the table. By the time I returned with the main dish, everyone was settling into chairs.

Feyre sat at an end of the table with Nyx, and Nesta kept a seat open between the two of them for me. “In honor of our fierce Nesta making the Blood Rite her bitch, I dedicate tonight’s meal to her.” There was a chorus of cheers (mainly from Cassian) supporting the little dedication and I smiled as I placed the platter in the center of the table. “I hope you all enjoy.”

Mor who is seated across from me, reached across the table to fill my glass with wine. “Everything smells delicious, Y/N. Thank you for cooking for us all tonight.”

“It’s nice cooking for a crowd. Though, I hope this is enough for everyone…” I trailed off, looking over everything on the table and starting to doubt if this would be enough to feed the Illyrian general, let alone a whole family. Feyre immediately placed her hand over my own with a smile.

“This is more than enough. Thank you for doing all of this. I’m sure Nesta especially appreciates it.” Nesta was already carving through the beef, placing portions on the plates of those around her, my own included.

“It looks cooked to perfection, though I expected nothing less from you.” I smiled in thanks, wondering if Nesta was making a jab at Elain after hearing about her failed attempt at making this, and began to fill my plate with other side dishes. Plates were passed along as everyone picked up whatever conversations they were having before Nesta summoned them to dinner.

Azriel was sitting next to Mor, which meant he was in my peripheral vision as I passed dishes along. I paused, wondering if him eating this would mean the bond is accepted, and I felt myself panicking a bit. I certainly haven’t forgiven him for what I’ve gone through, and would he even want to accept the bond given his own feelings for Elain?

Before I could spiral further, I felt a familiar talon brush against my mind.

You look as though you’ve stopped breathing. Are you alright? I glanced up at Rhys, noticing the slight furrow between his brows.

If Azriel eats this, does this mean the bond is accepted? I didn’t even think about that when I was cooking – Rhys interrupted me, face relaxing as he began to understand my concerns.

As you’ve made this for everyone, this has nothing to do with the bond. It only matters if you make and deliver something for him and only him. I understand how that can be a little tricky, but you can rest assured that nothing is being decided with the bond because you made a fabulous family dinner. I smiled at him, hoping my gratitude was clear in my expression and he nodded.

Feeling more comfortable knowing that I didn’t make some sort of mistake, I glanced around the table only to catch Azriel’s eye. His face was a neutral mask, but I know the spymaster didn’t miss the fact that Rhys and I were having a private conversation. I stared back, almost as if challenging him to voice his questions out loud. Before we could see who would win this particular battle of wills, Feyre gasped and grabbed my hand yet again.

“It’s almost your birthday!” I looked at her in confusion as we’ve never done anything for my birthday.

“Yes, and I believe you all will be receiving invitations from Viviane soon. The moment she realized it was going to be my 30th, she began planning a party almost immediately. I can’t even imagine what she has in store… Weekly meals are a huge ordeal to her, so I can only imagine what she’ll do with a milestone celebration like this.” Mor started to squeal in excitement at the thought of a party as other chimed in either bits of agreement to Viviane’s wild planning or just general excitement, but that didn’t cover the scoff I heard on the other side of Cassian.

“We all know you’re 28, so I don’t know why you haven’t corrected the Lady of Winter so that she doesn’t feel embarrassed for trying to celebrate a milestone that you haven’t reached yet.” The table was quiet, and I felt myself grow more frustrated than confused.

“You think I’m still 28? Elain. I left Velaris almost a year ago. Surely I would have had a birthday between then and now, making me 29 today.” I leaned forward so that I could look around Nesta and Cassian to look at her directly. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised seeing as you never knew when my birthday was in the first place.” I felt Nesta stiffen beside me, though I fought the urge to grab her hand as if I wanted to comfort her. But just because we started opening up doesn’t mean the years of problems we’ve had are suddenly resolved. She never acknowledged my birthday, either. So instead of grabbing her hand, I moved to eat some of my meal.

“Of course I know when your birthday is, Y/N. Don’t be stupid.” I watched out of the corner of my eye as she angrily stabbed a carrot, but never moved to put it in her mouth.

“So enlighten us, Elain. When is your oldest sister’s birthday?” I glanced between Mor and Amren, immediately getting the sense that they’ve been an enemy of Elain since I left. I appreciated the thought of them being in my corner. I also noticed that Azriel didn’t look like he was going to step in any time soon to defend Elain like he was always so quick to last year. If anything, he looked curious for the answer.

Looking back at Elain, I found her watching Azriel as if she still expected him to help her. That’s when I realized she had no intention of providing an answer. “Just admit you don’t know, Elain. It’s frustrating, but I’ll get over it. Just like I’ve gotten over it for every other birthday.” I watched her grip her fork, and I shook my head.

“What about you, girl? You’ve been awfully quiet.” Amren was watching Nesta, and she cleared her throat.

“Eleven months ago. She’ll turn 30 in a few weeks.” I looked to Nesta but didn’t say anything. I shouldn’t be surprised she knew and didn’t say anything as that is the Nesta trademark, but there was still that sting of disappointment. Amren turned her attention to Feyre.

“And you? Do you know?” Feyre nodded, a sad look in her eye.

“I remember asking Y/N when I was around 9 when her birthday was. I figured she hated her birthday as much as I hated mine, and that’s why we didn’t celebrate it. Since I assumed she never wanted to make a big deal out of it, I would give her a hug on her birthday, a silent wish for another good year. None of us ever asked how she wanted to celebrate...” Amren nodded.

“At least you did something –“

“I remember.” We all looked at Cassian in confusion. “I remember seeing Feyre hug you the night you left. It was after dinner, and I called you both to join us in the living room.” He looked up at me, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cassian look so sad. “None of us knew, or did anything to celebrate. And then you were gone.”

The room was quiet, and I looked back down to my plate. I had barely eaten any of it, and I felt guilty Nesta’s celebration dinner turned to this. No longer having a desire to finish with everyone, I stood with my plate and the intention of finishing my food in my rom. “I think I’m going to head to bed for the evening. Nes, I am really proud of everything you’ve done and accomplished. I’m sorry the conversation ran away from that, but I don’t want you to think otherwise.” I kissed the crown of her head, then Feyre’s cheek, before moving towards the safety of my room.

As I approached the hall, fully ready for the night to be over, I heard Elain call out from somewhere much closer behind me than I thought. “I’m not done speaking to you, Y/N!” I sighed, closing my eyes, but knew something like this would have happened at some point during my visit. I selfishly hoped it would have happened closer to the end of my trip so I could run away and hide, but I suppose the Cauldron has other plans.

“What more could you possibly have to say, Elain?” I turned to look at her. She stood at the other end of the hallway, and I noticed a few heads starting to poke around the dining room entrance to watch. “You’ve made it abundantly clear you know nothing about me, that we all suck at being sisters, and that we’re essentially allergic to communication. What else is there?”

Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t make a move to come any closer to me. “You left.” I stared, not entirely sure how to respond.

“Yes, I did. That’s not entirely news, though, Elain.”

“You left me. You’ve always taken care of me, and you left me. Why would you do that when you know we need you?” I placed my plate on a hall table that sat between a couple of bedroom doors as I got the sense I shouldn’t have any sort of projectile in my hands for this.

“You’re an adult, Elain. I shouldn’t have to keep taking care of you.” I felt my eye twitch, but decided to just let go of everything I’ve bottled up. “And yes. I took care of all three of you because Mother and Father wouldn’t. I had to pick up the slack of their own selfish desires and I became a mother at five years old. Because that’s what I became, Elain. I wasn’t your sister. I was your mother. Do any of you remember calling me mommy instead of Y/N? All three of you did that, and I had to correct you time and time again.” I looked away at Elain and back towards everyone who was no longer hiding in the doorway and stood completely in the open. “I didn’t have a childhood like you three did. I didn’t have the luxury of having someone take care of me like you three did. I was always the one doing everything for everyone and I am just so tired of it all, Elain. I am tired of being forgotten, of being taken advantage of, of not being the person that someone wants. I am tired of simply being the sister who took care of it all. For the first time in my life, I chose me.”

Elain was crying, but I could see the anger warring with sadness in her eyes. “You never said anything to us –“

“We never said anything to each other about anything!” I laughed. “Quite frankly, I think we’re all some of the worst sisters that exist. There’s no genuine interaction, there’s no support. Everything is always so one-sided with all of us, always expecting something in return. How could I possibly open up to any of you knowing that not a single thing would change?”

I watched as Elain’s shoulders drop, but she nodded. “You’re right. We are all selfish. So stay so we can work this out. Learn how to be sisters. Please.” I looked at her big eyes and if she were talking to Y/N from last year, that Y/N would have caved in a heartbeat.

“Sisters can happily exist without living in the same house, in the same city. Velaris isn’t my home, and I love the life I’ve built for myself in Winter. You talk about wanting to build relationships with one another. Then how about instead of asking me to leave the life I chose, you ask me what it’s like in Winter? What do I enjoy doing in my new home? What are my friends like? Can you come visit? That’s how you build relationships, Elain. Asking questions, getting to know the person standing in front of you instead of hoping that living under the same roof again will magically fix any issues you have.” I glanced back at my door behind me. “Hang on.”

I turned and ran into the room, quickly grabbing my Solstice gifts for everyone. Coming back into the hall, I walked towards Elain, and handed her the package with her name on it. “Happy belated Solstice.” I walked past her to everyone else, tossing the appropriate packages to everyone. Now standing between the group and Elain, I looked among everyone. “Once I got settled into my house, I took up knitting. I couldn’t finish these in time for everyone to send them all together at once for Solstice, so figured a later gift is better than nothing. They’re not anything special, but they’re things that I made for each of you.” I watched as everyone opened the packages, finding the scarves and gloves that are paired up. “At the time I made these, I wasn’t all that great yet, so the patterns aren’t intricate. And honestly, all of them are the same except for the colors. So if you want to trade or whatever, no hard feelings.” I turned to Elain. “But that’s how you start to get to know someone, Elain. You talk about their hobbies, their likes and dislikes. You share things with them, you don’t make demands of them. You accept them for who they are and don’t try and change them.” Elain was looking down at the blush pink set in her hands, but I watched her give a small nod.

“What’s your favorite thing to knit?” She looked up at me, almost nervously, as I grabbed my plate from the hall table. I nodded my head towards my door.

“You can join me while I finish up a gift I’ve been knitting for Nyx.” She looked between me and my plate briefly.

“Can I bring my plate in, too?” I nodded, giving a small smile.

“Of course.”

________________

I woke up that morning to find Elain still fast asleep on the other half of my bed. We stayed up well into the night talking. While it was occasionally tense and primarily awkward, we did end the evening feeling better than when it started. Similar to how I felt after talking with Nesta, I know everything isn’t magically fixed. There are a lot of problems we still need to sort through, but at least there’s some starting ground for us.

I silently moved around the room, getting ready for my day in the kitchen. I mentally planned out what I was going to work on as I left the room with Nyx’s blanket in arms, closing the door quietly behind me so Elain could continue resting. Passing Rhys and Feyre’s room on my way to the kitchen, I set the blanket against their door. Content that the embroidered “Nyx” was in clear view with the way I folded the blanket, I walked off with a smile on my face.

The kitchen was empty when I entered, and I took a deep breath in. The space was beautifully done with endless counterspace, so I could work on multiple things at once and not feel constricted. First thing’s first, I lit up the oven so that it would be hot and ready for me as things were ready to be baked. Looking around at everything else, I got to work in getting the various crackers, cookies, breads, and preserves ready to go.

Breakfast wasn’t that big of a meal that the family shared together, so throughout the morning, folks popped in at various times to grab a bite to eat on their own time. Elain came down about an hour after I started, almost shy in approaching the kitchen before mentioning she was going to spend the morning in the garden. Cass and Nesta followed in a little while after Elain, clearly finishing some training. I stayed out of Cassian’s way as he made a quick breakfast of eggs and toast for him and Nesta.

“I don’t know how long you’ve been up and working, but I made enough for you to have a small plate yourself, Y/N.” I smiled in thanks to Cassian before doing a double-take at the plate in question.

“This is a small plate?” The food in question rivaled what Cassian had piled onto his own dish and he laughed.

“Hell no. Yours is on the counter next to the stove. That’s Azriel’s. He’s finishing up with some of his students and will be in soon.” I fought to hold any reaction in check as I nodded in understanding.

“Thanks again for the food, Cassian. I’ll be sure to let him know that’s his.” He nodded and followed Nesta out into the dining room. I overheard Nesta hiss something about him being too pushy, but couldn’t hear his response.

By this point, I had plenty of items ready to be transferred to baking sheets and into the oven. I popped a few trays in and turned to the plate of food Cassian made. Simple eggs and toast, but it was especially delicious since I didn’t need to make it myself.

About halfway through my eggs, I noticed some shadows growing in the corner of the kitchen, and that was the only warning I had before Azriel appeared in the kitchen. I tried to look away, but post-exercise Azriel was a sight I had forgotten I missed. Tanned skin flushed from exertion and hair messy from constantly pushing it back out of his eyes. My traitorous little brain was disappointed he had put a shirt on before entering the house. Forcing my gaze back to my plate was my punishment for letting those thoughts slip through.

I felt more than saw him pause in the kitchen when he realized I was in here as well. I watched the shadows in the corner move back to him, almost as if he were trying to hide behind them. I had heard stories of him doing that, and I snorted at the thought of him wanting to hide from me.

I nodded my head toward the plate on the counter. “Cass says that’s yours.” I turned back to my own plate, taking a bite of my toast. He hesitated a moment before slowly moving to the counter. He rested his hands on the side of the plate, tapping his fingers lightly as if in thought.

“Do you mind if I join you?” I looked back at him, taking note of his expressions. His face looked calm, but the shadows racing around his upper body told a different story. I shrugged in response.

“This is your kitchen as much as it’s mine.” I turned away to take a look at the baking sheets in the oven. With the crackers being a thinner crust, they bake quickly but could burn without a moment’s notice. I gently pressed a couple of them, noting they could use another couple of minutes.

“I’d disagree there. Already you’ve used it more than most of us combined.” I thought about Nuala and Cerridwen, understanding that no one uses the kitchen when they’re here.

Silence enveloped us as I went between finishing my breakfast and checking to make sure the crackers aren’t burning. When I finished eating, I set up a few different cooling racks on the counter next to the oven, getting everything ready to get crackers off the hot sheets as quickly as possible.

Glancing back at him, I noticed he didn’t put anything on his toast. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Risking the wrath of the oven, I passed him blackberry jam I made earlier this week. “I refuse to see anyone with bare toast.” I didn’t wait to see if he did anything with it as I turned away to get back to work.

We continued on in silence – him eating while I got the next batch of crackers in the oven. If it weren’t for my wild imagination coming up with countless scenarios of this not going well in any capacity, this could have been comfortable. I forced myself to control my breathing and focus on what my hands were doing.

“Are these recipes something you learned recently, or something you learned in the human realm?” I jumped slightly, having not expected a comment.

“I suppose you could say it’s a combination. I learned the basic recipe years ago but made some adjustments with Prythian ingredients. Most of my old recipes have followed that same path.” I felt him watching me as I took out the second batch of crackers.

Some on the end of a sheet started to burn, and I frowned at them. I broke off the burnt end of one of them and ate the rest of it. I smiled slightly at the taste, grateful that rosemary was an herb common on this side of the wall. I put the last batch of crackers on sheets and put them in the oven. I turned back around, pulling up my mental recipes for Feyre’s favorite cookies. I worked through getting everything ready, hoping the cookie dough would be ready around the same time as the crackers coming out of the oven so I could steal back the sheets.

“I’m glad you were able to come.” I bit the inside of my cheek, not entirely sure where his comments have been coming from.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Feyre is important to me, and now Nyx is a new kind of important to me.” He nodded, but I watched as he slid his fingers through his hair, almost as if frustrated.

“I’m sorry.” I almost dropped what I was holding as I spun to look at him. His eyes were wide, almost as if he didn’t think the words were going to slip out.

“Excuse me?” I watched him take a breath, almost as if accepting that this conversation is happening, if it’s not how he imagined it starting.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you. For making you think you couldn’t stay here. For causing you to leave your sisters.” His eyes were sad, but I felt the fire burning in mine.

“You’re sorry? Really?” I dropped the baking sheet on the counter, no longer paying attention to what I should be doing. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Azriel. You didn’t make me do anything. I chose to leave for me and my own well-being, and nothing else. You may have been a factor in my decision, but you were not the cause.” I started pacing, feeling a bunch of pent-up energy randomly flowing into my system.

“I have been doing a lot of self-reflection since I left, and I’ve gotta say, Azriel: I deserve significantly more than a lame-ass ‘sorry’ for the pain and hurt that you’ve been putting me through. Do you have any idea what it’s like for me? To not be good enough for the one person who was supposed to accept me for everything that I am? To not even be good enough to be an afterthought? You made your decision, and I know that I cannot control the actions and choices of others, no matter how badly I wish otherwise. But you chose Elain. I may never be okay with that, but I can accept that. And I am working on accepting that. I don’t know what other kind of reaction you could expect from me right now, or what else you want from me, but I can’t give you whatever it is you’re looking for. Forgiveness? I’m not ready for that. Understanding and happiness for making the choice you did? I have not felt happiness at all since becoming fae, so that one is never going to happen.” I felt the tears build behind my eyes as I looked him over. His hazel eyes were bright with his own unshed tears.

“I didn’t choose Elain.”

“How can you say you didn’t choose Elain when you actively chose to believe the bond snapped with her instead of me?”

“I knew what to expect with her: that I couldn’t have anything. I never believed I was worthy of a mate considering everything I’ve done in my life, and some twisted part of my brain believed that it clicked with Elain as further proof that I couldn’t have anything good in my life, that I would never be enough.” I stared at him like he grew a second head.

“That is quite literally the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life.”

“Stupid it may be, but it was the safest and easiest route.” My glare hardened.

“Fuck you. You’re going to sit there and say to my face, to your mate’s face, that you would rather live alone, that you would rather condemn me to a life of utter loneliness, because it’s easier for you? No. I don’t accept that. I refuse to accept that.” I noticed something in his eyes shift. “You don’t accept that either, do you?” I walked around the counter so I could stand face-to-face with him. I noticed the bob of his Adam’s apple and I wanted to punch him. “For a Spymaster, you’re a shitty liar. What, is this your way of punishing yourself? Push me away, make me hate you? To what end? What’s your goal here, Azriel?” He remained silent as he looked at me. “Don’t think I didn’t notice those questions you asked while you were eating. Did what I say to Elain last night about taking time to get to know someone resonate with you? Did you decide after a couple of questions that getting to know me as a person wasn’t ‘safe and easy’ anymore?”

“That’s not true.” I could start pulling my own hair out with the way this conversation was going.

“Then tell me what is true! Honesty shouldn’t be this hard!”

“The truth? Fine. The truth is that I think you’re the most magnificent creature on this planet. You are beautiful, you are kind, you are fierce, and you take care of what is yours, to name a few truths.” I stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap my head around the hurricane this morning has been.

“Here’s a truth for you: I don’t appreciate when others decide for me if they are worthy of me taking care of them or not. If they are worthy of my time or not.” I turned to look around the kitchen, at everything I still wanted to get done before I left tomorrow and suddenly felt exhausted. “Here’s another truth. I’m not willing to forgive you. But I am willing to get to know you. The way we should have gotten to know each other when the bond first snapped into place.” I moved back to where I was working before, picking up the previously forgotten baking sheet and placed it in the oven. “I have a lot I need to get done before I leave tomorrow morning. If you’re willing to ditch ‘safe and easy’ and actually get to know me the way it looked like you wanted to earlier, I’m willing to have another pen pal.”

One of the shadows he kept close to himself escaped, moving towards me almost as if celebrating. Feeling the shadow was like a cool breeze flowing around the kitchen. Before he could call it back to his collection, I raised a hand, allowing the shadow to weave between my fingers and I couldn’t hold back the small smile. I glanced up, watching him watch me. “It would be an absolute honor to be your pen pal.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #a better life #bri's writing

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