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forlix · 7 months

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𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes.

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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radiance1 · 8 months

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Killer Croc and Jack Fenton are brothers.

Killer Croc was the first born, just a about 5 years older than Jack. Their father was a large man, much larger than should be possible considering he never had a meta gene.

But oh boy would it have not surprised them if he did. Because that man was strong, 10 feet tall, and shrugged off things that would injure most people.

Like a brick to the head.

Anyways.

Croc was entranced with his younger brother; he was so small so much tinier than he had any right to be, and cuter than a button. He babbled like most babies do, but Croc wouldn't think twice before calling his baby brother the best baby of them all.

His dad could fit him in the palm of his hand easily! Which was just one of Jack's many great qualities in his opinion!

Croc and Jack's parents weren't really on the best of terms, Croc could tell. He didn't know why, really, but he didn't want his baby bro to feel unloved in any sort of way, and it's not like he really had friends to hang out with, plus his parents were busy with jobs.

So he mostly spent his time taking care of and playing with Jack. Changing diapers, feeding him, lifting him up and down with his tail, just the normal sibling stuff.

He feels kind of bad for his dad though, whatever kind of job he had didn't even let him come home most days, and when he did he could barely even walk upright without falling asleep and jolting awake. He still made time for them, however, when he got those rare few off days.

He's honestly surprised that man managed to drive a car properly in the state he was in.

Their mother was often out of the house, Crocc didn't know what she was doing but he just thought it was like his dad. Unlike his dad, however, she didn't really like him. He didn't really know why, nor did he really care either if he was to be honest.

Around a year later the tension between their parents got so thick it could be cut with a butter knife. Then it turned to arguments in the rare times they both were in the house, he didn't even know his parents could make such cutting remarks to each other, and then both of them being in the house less than before.

Then when he turned 10, and Jack 5. They got divorced. Croc was left with his mother and Jack got taken by his father. His mother didn't take the divorce well, really, probably because at the same time she got fired from whatever the hell she was doing and was left jobless.

Then she dropped the bomb on his that his dad wasn't even his actual dad and Jack is only his half-sibling and then promptly abandoned him in the sewers with the rats and what was most likely very poisoned water due to it being the sewers and Gotham.

Well. Fuck.

Croc thinks that Jack doesn't even remember him due to how young he was, nor did he ever see his dad again cause, y'know, being abandoned in the sewers and all.

Then multiple years later he ran into his brother again and got DAMN was he tall. Not taller than him, but it was basically the equivalent of a gut punch to Croc, because he remembers his baby bro being so tiny, so baby.

He blames his father's genes for him being 8 feet taller now. A head shorter than him, sure. But he wants back his small baby bro alright.

Then he finds out his baby bro has a family.

And fuck did he not want to involve himself anymore in fear of being a catalyst for tearing said family apart due to being, well, him and all. Then he was promptly (quite literally) dragged over to meet said family despite his stance on the matter.

Then he finds out he's just treated like a normal person with zero amount of fear. His wife? She had to have a giant in her family too because she was 7 feet tall and was smart enough to kick his ass.

His daughter? 6 feet tall and their first meeting she accidently became his therapist. Also, he was sure she was a meta of some kind, probably something to do with wolves.

Then finally, their son.

It felt like he was thrown back to his childhood when he saw him, he looked so much like Jack did, and he was so, so tiny just like his baby bro was. He had to physically hold himself back from doing anything with the kid because he feared he would accidentally break him or something.

Then he found out that apparently his nephew was half-dead and that his brother and his wife hated ghosts with a passion, built a portal to the other side, had their city attack by the ghost king and then promptly found out about their son's half-dead status and had to do a major revamp of basically everything they knew and acted upon.

Which they're still working on.

Oh and also their daughter is a werewolf, she had a meta gene from someone of his dad's side and only recently activated it.

All of that which was a lot to take in for old Killer Croc, also he knew his niece had something to do with wolves.

So, Killer Croc in all of his life from the point of being abandoned at up to now, decided to go screw the bats and whatever they're attempts of figuring out what the fuck's going on with him (look at you Red Hood.) and decided to try and integrate himself into this family and brother's life again as best he can.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #Killer Croc and Jack Fenton are brothers #Their Father was an insanely tall man #As all Fenton's are in my hc because I say so #Unless specified otherwise.#Killer Croc has been infodumped a lot of information about his brother's family and life up to this point #Barely computed it before going #Fuck it we ball #He's very much going to do his best to prevent a certain little red riding hood from investigating his brother's family as best he can

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guillotine-drop · 3 months

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Ranking New Vegas companions by their alcohol tolerance

Arcade - 6/10: Hear me out, Arcade is a fairly big guy and between his genetics and the work he does, he’s bound to have some weight behind him. Do I think he’s going toe to toe with the average Wrangler patron? No, but I do think you could sit him down with a bottle of wine and by the end he’d be juuuuust tipsy enough to follow you into that Nightstalker cave with minimal complaints.

Boone - 4/10: Despite being a miserable boot boy with a dead wife, I think Boone is on the lower end of alcohol tolerance solely because he’s a sniper; I feel as though the job description means that you can’t exactly be swaying with your shots, so his tolerance would be piss poor. You could probably get him to drink a 12 pack with you, but just watch out: he might start showing a human emotion, and that’ll be uncomfortable for both of you.

Cass - 8/10: There’s something to be said about the fact that you need at least 8 Endurance to be able to beat her at the drinking contest to recruit her. Obviously she can hold her liquor, but I WILL dock points for being sloppy about it. (Girl how did you manage to wake up with a random soldier after the battle??? Don’t you know what your mailman looks like???) Share the whiskey but make sure you loop her belt around a pipe or something so she doesn’t run off.

Veronica - 3/10: I love Veronica. I love her so much. I don’t think she can hold her liquor to save her life. I think Ronnie is a ‘3 drinks and she’s out’ kind of girl. That being said, I also think that she could probably get through most of a box of hard seltzers before she starts feeling it, and I think she’d shotgun them with her Power Fist to be funny.

Raul - 10/10: He’s a ghoul, he’s old, and he’s miserable 95% of the time. I think if you handed him a bottle of Dubious Liquid he wouldn’t even hesitate to drink it. I think he’s drank rubbing alcohol just to see what would happen. I think if you give him a totally intact, unopened, top shelf bottle of tequila, he’d have to excuse himself to the other room for a minute. Definitely the one I’d want to go drinking with.

Lily - 15/10: Mamaw’s 7 feet tall and 500 pounds of sheer muscle with a super mutant metabolism, I don’t even think conventional liquor would affect her tbh. I think she’s drinking that Jacobstown Moonshine that melts spoons and eats through glass. I think she could drink a can of turpentine and it would be like a White Claw. Go grandma, but for the love of god not to the bar. I do NOT have the caps for that.

Rex - 6/10: Okay hear me out (again). He’s an old as hell cyber dog who went through multiple owners, he’s probably got more metal than organs, and the last guys who had him were Elvis impersonators who do fuckall all day but day drink and watch each other do cabaret. You look me in the face and tell me that dog hasn’t had more booze pass through his system than the average wastelander. It’s still only a 6/10 because he shouldn’t be getting it, but are you gonna tell him no? Look at that face. And lower your glass.

ED-E - 0/10: Please do not pour liquor into the orb.

#yeah dude #fallout #fnv #new vegas #arcade gannon #craig boone #rose of sharon cassidy #veronica santangelo #raul tejada #lily bowen #rex fallout new vegas #ed e

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cattonicdragon · 6 months

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Man your work is great :D could you do Astrid hiccup tuffnut ruffnut and snotlout with a small jolly reader(4 feet tall) that riders screaming death or a titan wing catastrophic quaken.(I just like the this short joyful person next a GIANT creature that looks like it squash you like a bug it's just a bit funny to me XD)

Astrid,hiccup,the twins(separately) and snotlout x reader who’s a short ball of joy and rides a screaming death

Decided to do screaming death cus I love them

<<WARNINGS:abit of angst,snotlout not likeing spitelout,mentions of injuries(dragons mainly),snotlout needs a hug,spelling errors probally>>can you tell I don’t know how to do warnings?

HAS BEEN PROOF-READ

Astrid

She is absolutely stunned

Your so tiny.and yet you managed to tame the screaming death

She nearly had a heart attack the first time stormfly and the screaming death play fought,she still nearly dose after she gets used to them

She knows your screaming death won’t hurt stormfly,but as the good dragon rider she is she gets worried for her dragon

She may not admit it but she’s extremely cocky over the fact that one of the dragon riders on their side managed to tame the screaming death,with is defiantly no easy feat 💀

She genuinely questions you on how on earth you managed to tame the screaming death

She’s amused by the size difference between you and your dragon

Little ball of joy and a island destroying demon/pos

Due to your small size she can easily pick you up

She picks you up under your arms and you can only dangle there

You’ll just have to hope your screaming death is feeling nice and might scare Astrid to put you down

Don’t think you being small is all fun though.

Is stormfly is particularly pissed off by the screaming death she will pick you up by the scruff of the neck and run/fly off with you

A chase will ensue,that may or may not have to end up with hiccup and/or having to sort it out

She admires how you can stay so sweet and joyful

She may or may not admit it but she adores your personality,in hard times you can seem like a bright light in a endlessly dark hallway,and she couldn’t be more grateful

Hiccup

Also nearly has a heart attack

The screaming death defiantly had some bad blood with him and toothless

But with you,it’s like a big cat/dog and almost completely docile

How?

Ok well maybe the fact that he made the screaming death plummet face first into a rock wouldn’t help

Your tinny compared to hiccup and even tinier compared to the screaming death

He worries that you may become a large target for dragon hunters

Toothless and the screaming death,don’t exactly get along

I mean years of hatred and bad blood isn’t going to fix easily…

But the you and hiccup will find them curled up together

You don’t understand them but that’s ok

He asks if he can examine the screaming death,or maybe ride it.riding is a less likely option though 💀

He will wince or cringe if he sees any scars or damage he may have caused

He can relate to you being positive and joyful alot

But can also be abit jealous,how can you stay so joyful even in some of the most stressfull situations

He’s so unimaginabley grateful that your there for him during the entire time

You decrease his stress tones

It also feels like a weight off of his shoulders with the burden of having such a great relationship with a endangered and powerful dragon,you’ll stick together and get through it though

He also picks you up,and makes fun of your height.

Ruffnut

Probally one of the only ones who dosnt almost have a heart attack

If anything she’s jealous that you managed to tame such a cool and destructive dragon

Begs asks if she can have a ride just one please?

Will try everything and anything with the screaming death

You will need to supervise 24/7 sorry not sorry

She brags about you all the time

She loves your short size and will toss you over her shoulder/hold you like a log

She’s teases you about your size WAY to much,please tell her to put a sock in it T.T

Barf,belch and the screaming death become the faces of Loki day

Barf and belches personality might have slightly affected your dragon but oh well

Loves to cause distruction with you

If you don’t go on a mission she’s not going either,even if tuffnut begs.

She enjoys your joyful personality and loves that there’s someone that slightly carefree

She also feels like she can be more reckless now that there’s a island destroying dragon on the riders team

You will have to keep an eye on her,or lecture her.either works

Will Loki you hard,unless the screaming death is around.she dosnt want to become 🧀 today thanks

Tuffnut

Also dosnt get a heart attack

Instead he gets destructive zoomies

He begs you,like hands and knees and everything

For one chance to either ride or cause destruction with the screaming death

Jokes on you though if you say yes to either,the other will happen anyways.there’s no winning in this situation sorry

Surprisingly knows when to give the screaming death space

He’s reckless but sensible

Will bribe the screaming death to go on destructive trips constantly

He makes fun of your height,more than ruffnut

Chiken and the screaming death surprisingly get along the best,unlikely but wholesome friendship for the win

Chiken by proxy loves you a lot aswell

So if tuffnut loses chiken he checks you and the screaming death basically first

Somehow carries around a stall with him so you can get to high places when need be

Will kick ruffnut off barf and belch for a ride if you asked

Man Is whipped for you

Don’t leave tuffnut alone with the screaming death though,either he or someone else will die

He at some point becomes something of a second rider to the screaming death,it’s a lot of bribing and treats though and also the fact that he encourages the screaming deaths destructive tendencies

He likes your joyful ness,will also try to bribe you to help him get out of situations he gets himself into

Snotlout

Probally faints during first encounter

Is very worried for everyone’s saftey,it’s a similar situation as to when they took in the injured singetail

Complains a lot about the fact that allowed to bring the SCREAMING DEATH to berk/the edge

He admires you Aton

Your short,shorter then him and look at you go!

Gets a bit jealous of you and may think he’s not good enough

Give him a hug :(

One time during the longest day he ended up snuggling against the screaming death,and survived.after that day they grew abit closer which was sweet

He enjoys your optimism and it’s a good balance since he can be abit pessimistic sometimes

If his dad ever comes to visit and your around he finds himself gravitating towards you,he feels safe with you

Hook fang and the screaming death like tug of war.why?,who knows

They like to play catch with each other aswell,again no idea why

He asks if you want to ride with him and hookfang quite a lot,it’s his way of non verbally getting recognition and validation

He finds himself being a lot less pessimistic when your around and just in general,your jolly personality is infective and effective

He likes to just hug you when he’s feeling down of tired

He picks you up places you in places where you can’t get down easily

He pisses off the screaming death.quite a lot

He likes writing books for you and indulging in your hobbies aswell

Shows you off a ton,as long as you don’t mind though,he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

He likes knitting things for you

He also likes it when you both are in the same room,you can be doing something different or even just being quiet,as long as your there he doesn’t mind

He likes to spar alot aswell,but he never lets it get to the point where either of you get hurt

He’s very protective of you despite the fact he dosnt really need to be

He just cares alot

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severelystrangewriter · 7 months

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Meddling Friends (Kids) (Flufftober 2023 Day 7)

Pairing: shinichiro sano x female reader

WC: 1440

Warnings: none

Summary: shinichiro is lonely so emma, mikey, and izana take matters into their own hands

Note: idk how dating apps work but this idea was just too cute to pass up

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“How tall is he?” Emma asked as she, Mikey, and Izana stared at the bio page of the dating app they downloaded on their older brother Shinichiro’s phone. They were currently huddled on the couch as they discussed it seriously.

“Like, six feet,” Mikey responded.

Emma hummed thoughtfully before typing, “I’ll put six foot two.”

“But that’s lying,” Izana argued.

“It’s for Shin’s sake,” Emma defended, “Now I need some interests, uh…”

“Motorcycles,” The three teenagers said at the same time and Emma diligently typed it out. Then she sat back thoughtfully, “Is that really all he has going for him?”

“Pretty much,” Mikey shrugged.

Emma shook her head, “We’ve gotta come up with something else… How about ‘I like to take long walks in the park and enjoy nature’ or something like that?”

“But that’d be even more lying,” Izana sighed.

“Do you want him to get a girlfriend or not?” Emma snapped, “This is Shin’s only hope, so we have to make him look good.”

“Put ‘loves kids’, some ladies like that stuff,” Mikey added, “And it’s true.”

Emma agreed and put it down, “Now all we need are some pictures.”

She went through his selfies and found the best photos of their older brother and added them to the profile. Then she smiled in satisfaction as she hit the finish button.

“Alright, it’s done!”

“What’s done?” Shinichiro’s voice sounded from the doorway causing the three siblings to jump in fright.

Emma was the first to recover as she proudly held out the phone, “Your dating profile!”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for this thing,” Shinichiro said as he took the phone back, then his sister’s words registered, “Wait, what dating profile?”

He looked down and his eyes widened at the sight of the dating app that hadn’t been there before.

“We took the liberty of making you one,” Izana explained, “You’re welcome.”

“Well I’m deleting it,” Shinichiro replied.

“No!” Emma tried to take the cell back, but he held it high in the air out of her reach. Mikey had the perfect solution and jumped on his older brother’s back, wrestling him to the floor as it became an all-out brawl for the phone. Just then his cell dinged with a notification, causing everyone to perk up.

Emma gasped excitedly, “Someone’s interested!”

“Really?” Shinichiro couldn’t keep the delight out of his tone as he sat up and looked back down at the device. He clicked on the notification and the dating app showed your bright smiling face. He made a noise, sounding impressed.

“She’s cute,” Mikey commented, peeking over his shoulder to see your picture.

Emma quickly scanned your bio and gasped again, “She sounds perfect for you!”

“You think?” Shinichiro found himself asking as he also looked over your information. “Well what do I do?”

“I think you swipe to match,” Izana explained, taking the phone and doing just that. Then he handed it back and continued, “Then you just message her.”

“Message her?” Shinichiro repeated in surprise, “What would I even say?”

“Well most people start with a hello,” Izana said like it was obvious.

“No! Do a joke! Show her you’re funny!” Emma advised.

“Is he though?” Mikey questioned blankly.

“I can be funny,” Shinichiro argued, furrowing his brows.

Before he could think of something to say, you sent the first message.

“Is that her? What’d she say?” Emma asked.

“She said ‘hey’ with a smiley face,” Shinichiro answered, “Quick what do I say?”

“Just say it back,” Mikey shrugged, “Come on, you’ve held a conversation before.”

Ignoring that last part, Shinichiro did just that and soon you were replying.

That was the start of many messages shared between you and Shin. You two seemed to hit it off really well and had quite a bit in common. He found your mannerisms endearing and just genuinely enjoyed talking to you.

However, after about a month, Shinichiro still had yet to ask you on a date, the whole reason why the younger Sano siblings downloaded the app in the first place. Which is exactly what led them to take matters into their own hands once more.

“Have you guys seen my phone?” Shinichiro asked one day as he walked into the living room only to see Emma, Mikey, and Izana huddled around it again. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to (Y/n),” Emma replied nonchalantly, being the one actually holding the device.

“What?! With my phone? Did you at least tell her it was you?”

“No,” Mikey answered bluntly, and before Shinichiro could get his phone back, the phone dinged with a message.

Emma read it first and squealed excitedly, “She said yes!”

Shinichiro was lost, “Yes? Yes to what?”

Emma simply handed his phone over to her older brother with a smug smile on her face. “You have a date tomorrow!”

“You didn’t,” Shinichiro sounded breathless as he snatched the phone out of her hands. His heart was pounding in his chest as he looked over the messages of them asking you out by pretending to be him and you enthusiastically agreeing.

“It’s at the zoo at ten o’clock tomorrow morning,” Izana explained.

“You’re welcome,” Mikey added.

Shinichiro didn’t know what to do or say. It’s not like he could cancel the date because he didn’t want to seem like he wasn’t interested- he was very interested. He was just surprised you said yes.

So Shinichiro sucked it up and decided that he would make it the best date ever.

The next morning you both met up at the train station and made your way to the zoo. You were wearing a cute outfit and Shinichiro just put on a pair of nice jeans with a crisp white shirt that Emma insisted he ironed.

The date was going a lot smoother than Shinichiro thought it would go, much to his relief. You both laughed and joked as you went around to see the animals. There was even a point where you took the initiative and started holding his hand.

Finally, you suggested stopping somewhere for lunch which he agreed. You found a nice little restaurant and were currently waiting for your food.

“So is there a reason we’re being tailed by three kids wearing sunglasses, all pretending to read a newspaper?” You asked lowly out of nowhere, startling him.

Shinichiro furrowed his brows and you subtly nodded your head to the side, gesturing to a table not too far away. And sure enough, when he looked over he saw Mikey, Emma, and Izana sitting at the table, peeking over a big newspaper while wearing sunglasses. When they noticed they had been caught, they quickly ducked their heads behind the paper.

“They stick out like a sore thumb,” Shinichiro felt a wave of irritation as his eye twitched. They really don’t trust him to do anything, huh?

“I take it you know them?” You asked as you took a sip of your drink.

“Those are my siblings I was telling you about,” He replied with a huff.

“The ones that made your profile?” You tipped your lips up into a teasing smile, “And asked me out for you?”

Shinichiro buried his face in his hands and groaned, “Yes.”

You started giggling despite his distress.

“It’s not funny,” He whined, peeking at you through his fingers which made you laugh harder.

“It’s hilarious,” You responded, then when you gained some semblance of control, you grinned at him, “And actually really sweet. It just shows that they care about you.”

At this, Shinichiro lowered his hands, “You’re not weirded out?”

“Nah,” You shook your head, then you shrugged, “Do you wanna invite them to join us?”

“But what about our date?” He questioned.

“Do you want to spend the rest of our date being watched like zoo animals?” You countered, “Come on, it’ll be a nice bonding experience.”

Shinichiro felt a soft smile grow on his face, “You’re so cool.”

“I know,” You said sweetly.

And so you and Shinichiro invited the three teens to join you. They didn’t seem the slightest bit guilty for crashing your date as they immediately started asking you all sorts of questions to get to know you better. Shinichiro watched in fascination and adoration as you clicked with his siblings without hesitation.

They suggested going to the aquarium which was nearby and you walked with Shinichiro, holding his hand and laughing as Emma, Mikey, and Izana started pointing out fishes that they claimed looked like their older brother. Despite all the teasing, Shinichiro felt so grateful towards his younger siblings for meddling in his love life and leading him right to you.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #shinichiro x reader #shinchiro sano #sano shinichiro #x reader #fanfiction #flufftober #kace writes #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano fluff #shinichiro sano x y/n #tokrev

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the-orange-tabby-cat · 2 months

Text

Wednesday

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n Word count of the chapter: 3,7k

A/N: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾

I. LILAC

Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm.

His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.

Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.

As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.

7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.

8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.

At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?

“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text.

You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?

The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony. The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.

As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.

“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.

He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.

“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”

“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way.

You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.

Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.

“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”

“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.

“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”

Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”

“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.

“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”

“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.

“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”

The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.

Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.

Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.

This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.

“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.

“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.

“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.

“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.

The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.

Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back.

Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.

Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.

People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.

His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.

It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.

The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.

“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.

Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.

“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.

“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”

“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.

“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.

“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.

“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.

“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.

“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”

“Sam,” Henry says firmly.

“Abigail,” you speak loudly.

Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you.

“Teresa,” Tess points at her.

“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place.

You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.

You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.

Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.

“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.

“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”

“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.

“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.

The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.

“Who is Sarah?”

“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”

“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.

“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”

Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.

“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”

He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.

“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.

“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”

“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”

That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.

“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.

“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”

“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.

“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.

He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy.

The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.

Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.

“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.

“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.

“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”

“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.

“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.

“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.”

And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.

“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.

“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard. next chapter

#joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #wednesday series

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the-froschamethyst4 · 7 months

Text

Blindfold

➤Day 7

𖤐 Pairing: Duke! Ghost x Duchess! Reader

𖤐 Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐 Warnings: Smut, NSFW, fantasy, language, P in V, eating out, married couple, ass slapping, choking, passing out, bondage, biting, teasing, smoking and drinking, some hints of jealously, a tad aggressive

𖤐 Summary: The Duke aka Simon Ghost Riley has a very strict relationship with his wife The Duchess Y/n. He had set rules for her when they married, and it was that she'll never see his face ever. She lives her life around the castle normally but at night when she's alone with her husband, she has to wear the blindfold, that she absolutely hates

———————

It was early in the morning, Y/n woke up in darkness, she touched the silky fabric over her eyes, and she moved her hands around in the bed to see if her husband Ghost was there or not.

"Don't take it off yet, I'm trying to get ready," she jumped at the sudden deep and dark voice.

"Okay...Simon? When can I see you?"

"Never."

Same old answer anytime she asked. When Simon and Y/n got married she wore a lacy blindfold, she could barely get a good look at him face, she found it dumb that her own husband would ask her to wear a blindfold...to her own wedding.

She then for 3 years wore a blindfold...3 years...she absolutely hated it. It became like her normal routine; she's never seen his face. Even when she was being arranged to marry him, she was told to wear a blindfold.

She didn't even know if she has a handsome husband, decent looking husband or an ugly husband.

Ghost walked to the bed and cupped Y/n's chin making her look up at him. He leaned down and kissed her lips, he smirks as Y/n was stunned by his quick action.

"I'll be gone today, so don't wait up on me," he said as he kissed her lips again.

"O-Okay," she stuttered.

She heard the door slam shut and she untied her blindfold. She let it fall on her lap and looked around the bedroom. She rubbed the back of her neck and got off the bed to get her day ready.

----------

Y/n walked down the castles long halls. She carried the blindfold around her wrist in case someone let's her know that the Duke was around and she needed to put her blindfold on.

She looked down at her feet and headed into the large dinner hall. She saw the large, long table set up with different breakfast and drinks and candles even lit.

She smiles as the housemaid and Y/n's personal maid came walking up to her.

"My lady, good morning, Chef Gaz has prepared you many different breakfast options."

"I see that, thank you Ms.Mary, let Gaz know I appreciate his breakfast idea."

"Of course, my lady," Mary walked to the kitchen.

Y/n sat down in her own chair and started to get her breakfast. She smiles at the different breakfast options. She started to eat, and Ms.Mary refilled her coffee every now and then.

"Thank you, Mary...what's on the agenda for today?" Y/n asked, looking up at Ms.Mary.

"The wizard Alex would like for you come and see him to talk about some healing potions because of the Duke's last battle...the villagers would also like to see you come around and join them on their festival."

"Of course, I'll join the villagers, I love their festivals," she smiles at Mary. "Let me get done eating and go see Alex, go see what he wants and then I'll go to the village and join in on the fun," she smiles once again.

----------

"ALEX!?" Y/n called from the bottom of Alex's wizard tower.

"Come on up, my lady."

"You're insane, you want me to walk up these flight of stairs."

The stairs would more likely be at least 14 stories tall. Sure, Y/n has walked up farther but she was tired.

"Come on," Alex encouraged.

"FINE!" Y/n yells. She hikes up the bottom of her dress and hiked up the long flight of stairs, it felt like HOURS for Y/n to get to the top, she opened Alex's chamber doors, panting and looking frustrated at Alex.

"Why do you wizard like being so high up?" She pants.

"I think it was better air flow," he laughs as Y/n rolled her eyes.

"What do you need, Alex?"

"Right, so, after Ghost's last mission almost half of his men were injured and we didn't have anything to help heal them, half of the died of their injuries. So, we need to make some sort of potion to help them, and then make plenty of it to help the next time any of them get injured."

"Right..." she said as Alex placed down and spell book with some potions ingredients that are normal ones to help with healing.

"We need basil, calendula, poppies, plantain, for the herbal potion," he had about 5 different potion ingredients pulled up.

Y/n spent quite some time in Alex's quarters coming up with new potions.

"My lady, the Duke is coming up," Mary said as Y/n quickly put her blindfold on as the door was quickly pushed opened.

"I heard my wife was up here," he grumbles.

"I'm right here, Si," she said in her sweet tone of voice, she uses with Ghost versus with Alex.

"Why are you up here, I've told you before that I don't want you fooling around with magic," he cups her chin.

"I-I'm sorry," she uses that type of voice with him because she's afraid of him because she couldn't see his face, so she acts sweet to let him know, she's a bit afraid of him and that she's not trying to disobey him in any way.

"You should be...come on, leave Alex alone..." he drags her out of the tower.

"S-Simon, you're h-hurting me," she cried.

"You should have listened to me," he growls.

"O-Ow," she says as she was pulled into a room and was pushed against the familiar soft bed.

"I hate it when you don't fucking listen to me, Y/n."

"I-I'm sorry," she still apologized.

She could hear him start taking off his clothes, some hitting the floor and she could hear him unbuckle his pants, he snapped his belt making her jump.

"S-Simon, I was told he w-wanted to s-speak to me about helping you with y-your army," she stuttered. He snaps the belt again she jumped.

"I don't care, I told you not to mess with magic and you fucking disobeyed me," he growls again.

"I-I-"

He snaps again. She jumps up.

"P-Pleas-"

And again. She jumps again.

"Fucking stop it please," she begs.

Ghost smirks, she felt something being placed next to her probably the belt he was snapping to show his dominance over her.

She felt his hands go behind her back and started unbuttoning her dress and letting it fall, she gasped at the cold air hitting her bare body and making her nipples hard.

He smirks and bends down kissing her lips again. He moves his hands down and grabbed that belt again and then tied her wrists behind her back. She moans at how tight he ties the belt around her wrists.

"S-Si."

"You have some nerve," he says. She felt his lips on hers, she just wishes she could see his face. But she could feel how the energy in the room changed. His hands were all over her body, gently squeezing her, pinching her, and just tightly holding her probably leaving marks on her body.

She moans at his touch, she wanted to remove the blindfold to see him, she's tired of looking at darkness when her body gets touched by him or when she's even around him.

Her knees then get pushed open and she feels something wet touch her lower half. She moans and her body jerks up into the wet feeling around her. She knew it was it mouth; his tongue did wonders on her.

Going in and out of her, he nipped at her bud earning a soft moan. She pulled at the belt wanting to break free from the belt restraining her.

She wants to grab his hair and let him keep going with no stops. She bucks her hips up again; she moans at his tongue, he licks between her wet folds and kissed between them as well.

"Ah~ S-Si-AH! I-I'm g-gonna-" she doesn't even finish her sentence and came in his mouth.

"Wow...you taste so sweet," he mumbles.

He quickly and swiftly flips her on her stomach, her ass gets put in the air, she moans when his big hand collides on her ass.

Ghost then slowly pushed himself into her, she moans at his dick immediately hitting her g-spot. She muffled her moans into the bog soft pillows.

She started to move her face back and forth on her pillow, she was trying to be sneaky about it and pull her blindfold down off her eyes. She made sure that Ghost didn't see that her eyes were uncovered by the blindfold.

Ghost's hands were on her waist squeezing her a little bit too tightly. His forehead was resting on her shoulder blade, and he bit between her shoulder blades.

She moans at the sudden pain.

"AH~!" She moans as her blindfold was around her neck, she could easily turn to see Ghost if she wanted to.

"You are very much naughty, my lady," he growls.

Ghost knew that Y/n had her blindfold off, he could see it around her neck and not up over her eyes like it's supposed to.

His big hand went around her neck, squeezing a little tight, she felt like she could barely get any air in her lungs. He leans forward.

"What did I tell you at our wedding? That the blindfold...stays...on..." he growls as he slammed into her. She moans and sound like she was choking on her spit from the lack of air.

She couldn't speak and just ended up coming on his dick as he kept going faster and harder inside of her, she felt her vision go black, she felt weak.

----------

"My lady? My lady? Are you awake? Wake up," she heard Mary's soft voice calling to her.

"Mary?"

"Hi, my lady, can you see me? How many fingers am I holding?"

"I'm fine Mary and...four, by the way," she smiles. Mary smiles and is relieved that Y/n was okay.

She hears a bottle slam on a table. She turned and saw Ghost sitting on a chair by the balcony, and then she realizes...she doesn't have her blindfold on.

"Simon?" She saw him smoking a cigar with a bottle of alcohol in his hands. She saw how handsome he was, perfect body, perfect face, dirty blonde hair and some scars around his face, nose, above his left eye and the corner of his mouth.

"Leave us, Mary," Ghost demanded and Mary left.

"Simon?"

He gets up and walks to Y/n, he cups her chin again making her look up at him in the face this time.

"You want to know why; I choked you out and didn't fix your blindfold?" She just nods. "Because...I get jealous when I was told you were up in Alex's tower...The reason why I didn't want you messing with magic...is because I see how Alex looks at you and I don't want you near him."

"Ghost...nothing was going to happen any ways...I'm married to you, my vows were to you, not Alex..."

"It doesn't matter...wives cheat on their husbands all the time and I didn't want that with you, my duchess," he says.

"Again, it will never happen between Alex and I...if anything we're just friends...I will never fall for someone like Alex, he's just a friend..."

"What about Mary, is she not your friend?"

"I can't talk to Mary about certain things, only Alex...I was taught to never discuss royal matters with a maid because you don't know what their intentions are, so I go to Alex sometimes."

"I get it but...stay the hell away from him, do you understand?"

"YOU CAN'T JUST DICTATE THAT! I NEVER ONCE GOT TO SEE YOUR FACE AND THE ONLY PEOPLE I CAN SEE I'M NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO CONGERGATE WITH THEM!! THAT! UGH!! I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this," she has never yelled at Simon before, like I said, she always spoke nicely to him because she was afraid of him, and now...she just lost her temper.

She got up and walked around the room, Simon watched her walk around with her head down and he could hear her mumbling to herself.

"I'll leave you alone then," he gets up and leaves Y/n to her thoughts, she groans from frustration and fell on the silk couch in their bedroom, she groans and looked up at the ceiling.

"The sad thing is...I love him with all my heart."

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