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pearlywritings · 1 year

Text

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife.

pairings: Alhaitham, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, a little bit of bullying, a bit of unwelcome drunk flirting, characters are whipped for their wives

word count: 5.4k+ words

a/n: part 2 can be read here!

Alhaitham

Your husband is… Truly something. Honestly, that's the best way to describe this epitome of nonchalance, smugness and sarcasm, sprinkled with sharp glares and served with a smartass sauce. No one would be able to swallow such a nasty pill, yet you somehow managed. But that's what doctors say, right? The medicine might be bitter, but it'll get better. And it did.

Hard to believe, but the Akademiya's Scribe is enamored by you - it took time to realize, many interactions for him to see that you do not rise annoyance in him, multiple times sharing the eye contact and hundreds of hours being your interlocutor to cognize the beauty of you, but when he fell - he fell hard, and the realization didn't make him feel repulsed. On the contrary, it brought him inexplicable peace, and, being an efficient and straightforward man he is, Alhaitham faced you the very next day and asked out on a date.

The rest is history. You dated, you moved in, you got married - the sequence your husband perfected in its briefness to be over with quickly anytime his colleagues or anyone asked about you and your relationship. You, of course, would give a more detailed summary to your friends, speaking of him so tenderly, always witnessing the same reaction - disbelief. And you get it where they come from - after all, your partner is known to not be the most cordial person. He prefers it that way though - he is bothered much less and can dedicate that free time to his lovely wife.

He makes it a point to not leave the house unnecessarily early, just exactly enough to get to his office on time, and same with finishing his work, bluntly rejecting anyone who tries to approach him with stuff. This way he doesn’t waste a second with you, quite on contrary, sometimes a couple of hours can be added, if you visit him during the afternoon to go grab lunch together, or enjoy the one you brought with you, and then rest somewhere in a private spot with your head on his shoulder, holding a bigger hand that is resting on your thigh, while his other one is occupied with a book. This is enough to power you both up to push through the rest of the day, and Alhaitham really appreciates it, never failing to give you a kiss on the lips and murmuring the soft words of reassurance, before parting your ways till the evening.

Today is one of those days when you find yourself in the House of Daena with a home-cooked lunch neatly wrapped and warm in your hands. A couple of librarians greet you on the way, knowing perfectly well who you are, and you smile at them. One older woman, who’s always been fond of your character, informs you that Alhaitham hasn’t left the Grand Sage’s office since the moment he arrived, and you thank her for going out of her way to reassure you that you will not need to search for him.

There’s another exchange of greetings at the bottom of an elevator and just seconds later you start ascending to the above of the huge library. The quiet whirling of mechanisms is calming and you hum softly to yourself, imagining that tender look in those light turquoise eyes, a rare shine in orange-ringed yellow pupils and a slight pull of thin lips upon seeing your figure and catching a whiff of food you brought. A content sigh escapes your chest and you prepare to soon step off the huge round platform.

But instead of catching a glimpse of your husband, you are met with sharp black eyes, staring at you and a scowl present on the face of a person you don't believe you've seen before, at least not long enough to remember. You blink in surprise, eyes darting to look at the man from head to toe - he is wearing the Akademiya’s robes, but there is no indicator to which Darshan he belongs to. A Matra perhaps? But you are used to seeing a completely different face of a scholar Alhaitham appointed as his secretary for the period of time he’d fulfill the role of an Acting Grand Sage. Panah has soft brown eyes, always nodding to you in a greeting and leaving upon your arrival if it is lunch time and his boss doesn’t instruct him to stay and carry on with his job, not minding you two.

This one practically glares at you, arms crossed and posture intimidating. You simply tilt your head in question, waiting for him to say something.

“Who allowed you to enter?”

The tone of his voice is pretty rude, and the gruff voice doesn't add grace to it. You are not one to judge someone by their looks - your husband is the proof of that, so you decide to brush it off and simply answer.

"Shohre of course, as usual."

“...as usual?” His brows furrow, and you get even more confused with the question. Is your husband having some kind of an impromptu inspection? He didn’t tell you anything about it in the morning, and since the Akasha got turned off, there is no simple way to warn you of it.

"Is Alhaitham holding any meeting, perhaps?" You try, knowing it's absurd since he doesn't love his sweet lunch time being interrupted, but right now it's hard to find an explanation for this hostile-acting man's actions.

"You have so little respect for the Acting Great Sage?"

This time the booming edge in his words makes an echo in a pretty vast space and almost makes you flinch. The situation is escalating pretty quickly.

"Sir, I don't know who you are, but I do not believe I ever deserved such treatment from you. Would you be so kind to explain what's going on or at least let me see the Acting Great Sage-"

That must've sounded kind of sarcastic, because the man looks like he is ready to fume akin to a kettle.

"Who even are you!? Who do you think you are? Demanding a meeting like that - you must know his schedule is packed, so don't you assume that your pretty face would get you through-"

"Jahan, what is going on?" The "Jahan" shuts instantly upon hearing a deep, dripping with authority voice behind him. Your face instantly brightens when you spot the tall man approaching you two with his arms crossed and the most nonchalant expression etched in his features.

“We have an intruder, Sir.”

What in the Archon’s name- This is becoming ridiculous.

"An intruder?" He lifts his brow and glances at you, gaze lingering just for a few seconds longer. Then it returns to his subordinate. "I don't see one here."

"This woman," you move just in time not to have his index finger directly point you right in your face, "came here without prior appointment, not stating her purpose, not even stating her name!"

"Is that so?" You almost snort at how little Alhaitham cares for what this man has for an explanation, instead moving directly to you and taking a heavy lunch boxes from your hands, allowing your shoulders and arms to drop in relief.

“Her name is of no matter. All you need to know is that she is my wife.”

The room falls silent. The man stares at his boss with eyes so wide, you worry they’d pop out of his sockets. Your husband though doesn’t show any reaction to the stunned look on the man’s face, balancing all the containers in one hand, offering you the other, which you take with a smile.

"S-she what?"

"My wife. And she, along with the necessary descriptions, is literally the only person on the list of the people who are free to come and leave whenever. On the list Panah passed to you along with other instructions before taking his sick leave. Did you even skip through those?"

The tone of your husband is cold with a mocking edge, rubbing his subordinate’s incompetence in his face, and you don't need to look at the man to sense his panic.

"I-I, no of course I thoroughly looked through every single one, but I do not remember such paper, it must've been lost along the process-"

"It doesn't matter. Now you are aware. But there is one more thing you need to learn about my wife visiting."

"Yes, Sir?"

"You leave the moment she enters."

There is a momentary pause (you know Alhaitham is rolling his eyes inwardly at how slowly the notion seems to reach him), before Jahan snaps out of his stupor, slightly bows, mumbling something and quickly walks off to the elevator.

Not even waiting for the mechanism to start, your husband tugs on your hand and you take the hint, following him to the sofas and a table.

"What an imbecile," is murmured in annoyance and you finally chuckle, covering your mouth with a hand.

Your husband is truly something, but one thing is absolutely certain - his wife is the only person that really worths his nerves and time.

Ayato

Kamisato Ayato is a character of many admirable traits and worth-mentioning accomplishments, a great leader, an amazing big brother, a boss held in high regard, and a loving husband of three years to you. This last, but not the least, is Commissioner's favorite, and he makes sure to show it every opportunity present in his individual mischievous way.

You know he gets away with a lot of things, and for numerous reasons, ranging from being the head of the Yashiro Commission, to him being pretty unknown by face among the commoners due to Ayaka handling all the public affairs. This one in particular is harmless, but there is that little thing which drives you up the wall - he does it only when you are present, leaving you very flustered and with a fast beating heart.

"My name? Oh, I am a husband. This gorgeous woman's husband."

"Lord Kamisato? No need to be so formal with me, just call me her husband."

"'Kamisato Ayato' and all my titles are so long to write down, can't I sign it with 'Y/n's hubby' instead?"

"Kamisato Y/n's husband. That's who I am."

"Ayaka, have you forgotten? No more calling me 'big brother', only 'Y/n's husband- Stop laughing, I am serious!"

The last one is literally happening right before your eyes, with the younger sibling hiding her smile and suppressing her giggles behind her intricately decorated fan, as the older one has taken his glove off, wiggling his fingers to show the glistening golden band wrapped around one of them. You, on the other hand, are trying to cover your heated face with a stack of papers you picked when Ayaka entered the office and addressed her big brother as, well, big brother. Peeking above the filled with reports sheets you catch a sly smile playing on Ayato's lips, while his usually piercing eyes reflect the special kind of adoration he holds for you.

You know why he is doing this - the man fought hard for your heart and then hand in marriage, and since it is now a reality, he absolutely keens on that "I am your husband" notion. Sometimes it's a perfect ice breaker in introducing you two to new people, sometimes it's a reason for an eye roll (yours as well), at times it puts people in stupor which Ayato uses to his advantage, but there is always only one initial thought behind every single one of them - showing the world he is proud to be your partner with a label "husband" on it.

And this sentiment is fully returned! However you never had an opportunity to do the same - he always beats you to it, and leaves bashful long enough for the moment to become wasted. You know you can always talk it through with him and he’d be more than happy to give you a chance, but, after all these times he left you speechless, it’s simply a matter of pride to pay him back. Besides… You really-really want to see his reaction if you told someone important those words.

That you are his wife.

You hear a soft knock on the living room’s door where you and Ayato are sitting next to each other at one side of the low table.

“Lord and Lady Kamisato, the guests have arrived.”

“Wonderful, please let them in.”

The man notices your elation upon hearing those words and smiles to himself - your friends from another nation, whom you haven’t seen properly in ages, finally managed to reach the coasts of Inazuma and seek a meeting to reconnect with you and also meet your mysterious husband you’ve written and praised so much in your letters.

The scene is heartwarming. Two girls around your age are tightly hugging you with excited squeals while the man that came in together with them, patiently waits to be introduced. Ayato follows his example, watching your grinning face, filing away every single detail about it - the sparkles in your eyes, the rosiness of your cheeks, that adorable wrinkling of your nose when the girls say something cheesy, and the pure happiness written all over your visage.

“Oh, Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again after so long! So much happened…”

“Yes! We totally should discuss every single event! But I offer to start by introducing us and our husbands.”

“One of you got married?” You ask surprised. “I know that only one of you got recently engaged-”

“Me! But the wedding is so soon, that I already call him my husband, hehe. Oh, we brought the wedding invitation for you and your husband as well, I hope you two will make it!”

“Girls, girls, let’s calm down,” you laugh, pausing them and gesturing to the two men silently observing you - both pairs of eyes shining with admiration. “Ayato, my dear, I want you to meet my friends I’ve told you so much about…”

Your husband hears familiar names, ones he’s remembered long ago, and nods in recognition, offering each a kiss on the back of their hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet people my beloved holds in high regard.”

“Likewise,” they giggle, giving you teasing looks about how gentlemanly your spouse is, and you roll your eyes, but a smile tugging on your lips doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And I’ll take an opportunity to introduce our companion,” one of the women says, stepping closer to her fiance and offering everyone his name and a slight description of his field of work, to which Ayato hums with interest.

“And these,” your other friend gestures to you and your husband, “are Kamisato Ayato and-”

“Wife.”

Everyone falls silent and looks at you with confusion. You yourself are stunned, eyes slightly widened and heart skipping a beat. The word really just flew out of your mouth faster when you could think about it.

“Excuse me?” Your friend gapes at you, and suddenly it clicks. This spontaneous reaction, caused by your unspoken desire, presents you with a perfect opportunity. You finally can get “revenge” on your husband.

“That’s what I said, sweety,” with a smirk and boosting confidence you glance at Ayato and meet his lilac eyes, staring at you with a hint of amusement. “I am this marvelous man’s wife. You know, 'Kamisato Y/n' is way too long to pronounce. So, maybe just a wife instead?”

The silence reigns again, with the three of your guests clearly being in stupor and your husband observing you with an unreadable expression. But suddenly he laughs. Joyfully and sincerely, it plucks on the strings of your crazily beating heart. Instantly there are arms wrapping around your waist and lips pressed against your temple, and you can feel the smile he hides in your hair.

“Yes, that’s right… This remarkable woman is my wife. Most incredible and lovely wife.”

Turning your head slightly you manage to catch a soft blush dusting his porcelain skin, before he faces away from you. Oh Archons, he loves it and he is bashful!

As you fully turn in his embrace and start teasing him, loud enough for only the man to hear (you are not that cruel to embarrass him in front of people), your guests' existence is forgotten for a moment. Both girls sigh and look at the completely lost man, whose hand his future wife takes and rubs a thumb over his knuckles.

“Ah… Please, don’t mind that. She always had a strange sense of humor, and it seems that her husband only enabled it.”

That is true, but you look genuinely happy, so they can bear a week of occasional cringing.

Diluc

The annual harvest celebration has been a tradition in the Ragnvindr family for as long as the Dawn Winery existed. When Master Crepus was alive, it was hosted in the grand mansion with spacious halls and intricately decorated staircases, the one Diluc used to call his home. Guests would gather, wine bars would be uncorked and red liquid fill dozens of glasses, as he and Kaeya would curiously watch the adults interact, sneaking out of their rooms to spy from the hiding spots they knew so well.

But not anymore. Gone were the days of careless happiness he calls the past now, gone his father, gone the mansion, and gone his desire for active social interaction. It's been some years since his return and the sale of the mansion in attempts to run away from said past. The celebration came to a stop for as long as he was gone and then while he tended to re-establishing the business after arrival.

The Dawn Winery, despite all the maids and winemakers, would become so quiet. And it's not like he stayed there for long too - he was always somewhere, preoccupied by something.

That is until his life was shaken and turned upside down, and all by the hands of one single person. The person, who brought light back to his dark crimson eyes, who made him stop and think about how he can not just exist, but live, and happily so, waiting for every opportunity possible to be in the loving presence; the person who brought out that part of him he buried deep down in his graveyard of a soul, and gave it freedom to be again. The home actually started feeling like one, not a building he had a study and a bedroom in, but a place he could share with another, basking in the long-forgotten sensations, having his heart dance jigs and face soften in a tender gaze.

Many changes occurred, and, with some encouragement, he decided to bring back the tradition his father held in high regard, with only his sons' birthdays being more important to the late wine master.

The Winery is not as big as the family mansion used to be, but it is still enough space, with some of the furniture moved and the floor cleared, it can host many people. Besides, there is always a lovely outside with benches, and tables, and chairs, and it seems that Barbatos is kind to you, sending delightful weather as his gift.

Diluc is not a fan of social gatherings, however, he couldn't help but feel giddy when Adelinde exclaimed in elation at the prospect, be rather content when he saw happy smiles of the citizens - it's been a while since any proper celebration, and the monster rampage last month has been keeping everyone in a gloomy mood, and most importantly - he couldn't betray the trust and confidence his wife put into him.

…right. His wife. The ending to his reputation of the most eligible bachelor (not like he ever cared for the title), and the talk of the town for the past couple of weeks. Diluc Ragnvindr is a rather private man, and upon mutual agreement the wedding was private as well, with only few attending, and those few knew how to keep their mouths shut till the right time came. Or not, since one Cavalry Captain loves getting on the redhead's nerves and spilling some beans to the people who are willing to listen, and then not saying another word to create an intrigue.

So yes, this celebration is also a way to finally introduce the owner of the Dawn Winery's wife to the public, and put an end to all the speculations and maybe seal some lips that spew hatred towards the 'lucky woman', and there are a number of those.

You haven't been taking your eyes off the small group of nobles, standing almost in the middle of the first floor hall, loudly discussing the matter, inevitably drawing the attention of the ones not involved in the conversation, but standing rather close to them.

"I am telling you, she must be some dirty little thing, seducing our poor Master Diluc," the raven-haired tall man claims, elegantly holding a glass of dandelion wine in his long fingers. With his white and black clothes he reminds you of a dalmatian. Barking is almost identical too.

"You are right! She must be some commoner, too ashamed to show her face. If she was of a noble origin, the wedding would be grand and public," ah, and this bear-like looking man… you remember him - he was very active in trying to arrange a marriage of a very uninterested Diluc and his 17-year old daughter. You almost grimace at the thought.

"Oh yes! And we all know, that such well-known and ancient family as Ragnvindrs ought to have one of the noble daughters getting married into it," it is the first time you see this dramatically dressed woman, but even so you would've doubled in boisterous laughter if not the pretty dress Adelinde helped you lace an hour ago, that could potentially be ruined with the drink in your own glass.

You will yourself to tune them off for a moment and check on other guests. It quickly becomes clear that this conversation makes them uncomfortable. Some manage to entertain you though, by making fun of those nobles, parodying the pompous manner of their talking and snickering at that.

Nevertheless, one shall put an end to this idiocy.

"Afternoon, good sirs and ma'ams," the group direct their gazes at you, approaching them with a polite smile and a glass absent from your hand. "I've caught pieces of your conversation earlier, and couldn't help, but feel concerned."

The derogatory gaze the woman throws your way doesn't go unnoticed, but you simply choose to ignore it.

"Is that so?" The 'Dalmatian' hums, as if condescendingly. "Are you worried about Master Diluc as well, young lady? Such compassion is admirable."

"Oh, I hardly worry about Diluc," some eyes widen at your lack of his title acknowledgement, but you once again ignore it. "I am concerned about you. You know it's bad manners to berate a person in their own house? I'd really advise you to stop talking, especially about the matter you seem to know nothing about. Not to make bigger fools of yourselves at least."

"How dare you-" the woman you haven't heard talking before, but saw her nodding a lot, with those huge feathers in her hair waving with each tilt of her head, starts gasping because of your 'insult'. "How dare you speak to us like that! A servant must stay silent until asked to open their mouth!"

"I am not a servant here, nor anywhere else," the assumption doesn't surprise you, since all the maids were allowed to wear pretty outfits even while doing their job - after all it was a celebration honoring them as well, they help the Winery keep running.

"When who in the Archon's name are you-?"

"Y/n Ragnvindr," a deep soothing voice rings behind you, so loud and clear, that it immediately shuts all the sounds in the room.

Your lips curl in a wider smile, all the while holding the bewildered gaze of the woman who decided to pick a fight with you.

"Yes, dear?" His chest is now against your back and a hand, clad in a white glove, reaches for yours. "Are you done with welcoming our partners from Liyue?"

"Of course," the back of your hand is brought to his lips to leave a chaste kiss there, and only then you turn your head and catch a dangerous glint in those blood-colored eyes. He is pissed, but neutral face hardly betrays him. "I see we have a problem here."

"Mhm," you hum, not letting go of his hand and looking back at the tensed individuals, who were bad-mouthing you just minutes ago. "It surely isn't how we planned to reveal our marriage, but the situation called for it, I suppose."

"L-lady Ragnvindr, we didn't know-"

"Can these people be escorted out?" Your question interrupts her harshly, making her flinch. "They disturb other guests, and clearly do not know basic rules of respect."

"My dear wife," you can practically feel menace radiating off of his body, and voice dripping with smugness, "no need to ask me. That's your house as much as it's mine, and you contributed so much into organizing this event. So don't be shy to make your own decision."

"Well then," your smile gets even sweeter, contrary to your eyes that burn holes in their distasteful figures, "Get out."

Kaeya

"Hey pretty tits, hic! Argh, you come here often?"

You wouldn't think that a question like this was addressed to you, if the heavily smelling of alcohol man wasn't occupying the bar stool to your right, leaning forward in your direction. You slightly turn your head and suspiciously watch the swinging glass in his trembling hand, half full and threatening to spill the dark liquid. He really had too much tonight.

"...was that supposed to be a compliment?"

Leaning back to avoid any unfortunate outcome, you give him an unamused look, finished with an arched brow. From the corner of your eye you can't help but notice Charles staring at the man. It is nice to know your good acquaintance doesn't ignore the possible trouble a drunkard can cause another customer.

But you can handle it.

"It was!" He exclaims so happily, childishly proud that you acknowledged the fact. Should you tell him he sucks at it? And that there is only one man whose drunk flirty compliments you'll ever accept, and even in a state like that he would manage to be good, putting a smile on your face? Right now though, the urge to grimace is stronger.

"...thanks," I suppose?. "And yes, I come here often to spend the evening with my partner."

At that his face visibly falls and you turn away, assuming it is enough to cut the conversation short, and concentrate on savoring your first drink of the evening. You ordered it while waiting for one particular Cavalry Captain, and even though it's not strange for him to come later due to astronomically fast piling up paperwork, today he seems to be particularly busy. Maybe you should purchase a bottle and come to his quarters?

Just before you could do just that, there is a hand sliding over your right hip and a hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. You don't even flinch or freeze, recognizing the alluring presence immediately and leaning back into the firmness of his chest.

"You are late, Kaeya."

A soft chuckle and a kiss to the temple make it pretty clear that the azure-haired man cracked your fake rebuke on the spot, knowing that you are not one bit angry at him, but actually really happy to finally have him here.

"I apologize, princess," another kiss, this time to your cheek, "work's been a bit tough. But I am glad to finally be here with my woman."

"Youuurr?"

Ah, you completely forgot about the drunkard to your right.

Turning to look at Kaeya's reaction, you are stricken by the star-shaped pupil gazing right at you - he hasn't even glanced in the other man's direction, instead fixated on you completely. And that is making wonders to your poor heart.

"Who's that, snowflake?" His tone holds curiosity, but you know your lover, and you know when he is ready to be an ass. You shouldn't encourage this, however…

You'd love to see Kaeya Alberich tell the suitor off for you.

"No idea. But he said I have pretty tits."

He hums at that.

"True, but I would've aimed for that delicious butt. I am a simple man, after all."

You barely slap his hand in time, not nearly as drunk to start touching each other right here and right now. At your jab in his ribs he simply laughs heartily, settling his palm back onto your hip and momentarily redirecting his attention to the troublemaker who's been staring at you two throughout the whole exchange.

"You are not from here, are you?"

Only when your lover says that, do you decide to take in the other man's appearance. Indeed, if you were to look longer at him (not like you were interested) it would be easy to guess Fontaine as his land of origin.

"And what?" He straightens his back and puffs his chest as if trying to intimidate. What a rooster. "Does it prevent me from pursuing a pretty woman from another region?"

Oh, so now it's not simply one flirting remark, but a full-blown pursuit? How troublesome.

"Oh no, no, of course not," honey is dripping off those pretty lips, pulled into a smirk. "It's just that otherwise you'd know it's a bad tone to hit on someone's ex-girlfriend."

Confusion appears on the pursuer's face and you look inquiringly at Kaeya as well. The only answer you get is a wink and a mouthed request to order him a drink. Still perplexed, you nevertheless turn to Charles and ask him to make the Cavalry Captain the usual.

Meanwhile the man pulls his thoughts together.

"It's stupid! If she is your ex, then how does it not give me the right to date her? Ridiculous. Why do you even hold her like that!?"

The shouting gathers attention from other patrons - some were invested almost from the beginning, seeing how that unknown man tried to make a move on you, and snickering behind their mugs of alcohol at his unawareness of your relationship.

And Kaeya is all for the show. Many eyes watch as an elegant hand wraps around the glass of his favorite drink and brings it to the silent lips. It feels like everyone stopped breathing and the silence is pressuring, like a string ready to snap and reveal some shocking truth. You, on the other hand, roll your eyes at the male's love for theatrics and put an elbow onto the counter and lean your cheek into your open palm. This is going to be crushing, you almost feel sorry for the guy.

When the Cavalry Captain takes the third sip and sighs in delight - then, and only then, - he looks dead into the other man's eyes, so oppressively that he shrinks under the weight of this cold gaze.

"Maybe because she is my wife?"

If it was physically possible, the drunkard's jaw would hit the floor. The glass, he's been holding just seconds ago, however, follows its destiny, breaking from the impact with floorboards and ruining the prolonged silence and earning a grunt from the barman.

"S-she's what?"

"His wife," you raise your hand and show the ring, getting quite tired and wanting to save at least some of this man's dignity. "So, if you could, please, let us two have our date night. Uninterrupted."

Finally it seems to have him sobered up a little and he starts profusely apologizing to you, to Kaeya, to Charles, to Barbatos and Focalors, while digging his porch with mora out to pay for his drinks and minor damage he caused.

When he stumbles outside and the other patrons stop following the drama, you turn to a contently sipping on his wine Kaeya, who is excelling the nastiest grin on his face.

"Ex-girlfriend? Seriously? That's how you call your wife now?"

"Well, technically I am not wrong, right? Since you are not my girlfriend anymore," he shrugs his shoulders, finishing the last few gulps and putting the glass back onto the counter.

"Then the next time we meet new people I will introduce you as my ex-boyfriend. What? Technically you are," having his own words being thrown into his face makes Kaeya laugh, and he hugs you tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Deal. But only once, to make it even. I enjoy being called your husband way more."

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neopuppy · 7 months

Note

Bestfriend Jeno who invades readers privacy and goes through her computer filled with videos of ykyk💀

warnings. errrhhmmm🤔 masturbation, yeah..

“Damn, he really did a number on your phone.” Jeno’s fingers drag down the shatter of cracks distorting your screen, neck ticking to the side. “I can definitely fix it though.”

“You can?”

“Yeah, I worked at one of those phone repair kiosks a couple summers ago, these screens cost a fortune to get fixed you know? I have a lot of leftover supplies, can probably find something in my stash that will fit.” He informs, patting your shoulder. “Means you’ll have to be disconnected all day though, is that okay?”

“I guess, have some lectures to get through and a group project to finish so I’ll be at the library most of the day if anything.”

“Alright, write down your passcode and maybe your apple log in just in case.” Jeno nods to a notebook, grabbing a pen to hand you.

“Why the log in?” You hesitate, eyeing your phone nervously.

Jeno shrugs, holding your phone out to you. “I only want to help, I know you’re kind of down on your luck right now. I understand if you want to be around when I fix it but today’s one of my only free days for the rest of the week, so..”

“No no, it’s fine.” You sigh, pushing the phone back toward him. “I might be back late, don’t know how long this meeting with my group will take. If you could leave my phone on DND? I’ll probably still be texting from my laptop.”

“Yeah, not a problem.” Jeno nods to his notebook, smiling as you scribble down your passcode and password. “I’ll get this all fixed up for you, free of charge.”

“I’ll have to repay you somehow..”

“What are friends for?” He laughs, motioning to the living room area scattered with your belongings. “Shit happens..”

“Thanks Jeno, everything you guys have done for me..” trailing off, you murmur shyly. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you and Jaemin for helping me out like this.”

“Don’t worry about it, focus on school.”

After bidding you goodbye and good luck with your project, Jeno moves to his bedroom, whistling to himself as he traces down the largest crack on your phone screen. “Gosh, what a dick..”

He didn’t ask what the fight was about, the timing didn’t feel right with you sniffling as he and Jaemin helped you carry your belongings in. He never liked your boyfriend much anyway, or well, ex-boyfriend..

Jeno boiled it down to jealousy at times, whenever he’d have to witness the unfortunate public displays of affection between the two of you. It’s not that he likes you, not necessarily.. but your friendship hadn’t exactly stemmed from genuine interest in forming a platonic relationship. It just so happened that while he had one idea, your mind had already honed in and focused on another.

“Eh, I always knew he wasn’t right for you.” Jeno mumbles to himself, tapping your phone screen to the image of your now ex-boyfriend’s lips squished against your cheek. “Gross.”

Jeno gets to it, unwrapping a new razor to begin removing the old screen topper first and see the real damage. Lucky for you, he’d gifted you a durable screen protector when you’d gotten a new phone. Great for dropping, not so much for a crazy boyfriend hurling it at a wall though.

He’s pleased to see the damage is a lot more minor under the protector, mentally patting himself on the back for handling that for you in the first place. A text pops up lighting the bare screen. “Oh right, do not disturb.”

Jeno taps in the passcode, swiping down to turn off notifications only to come to a pause as another text comes in.

‘It’s easy money, I did it my first year of college to cover rent, and you're shit out of luck at this point if you think a dorm will open up this far into the semester.’

He knows he shouldn’t, but there’s no way you’d find out anyway..

‘Isn’t that prostitution?’

The last text sent from you has his eyes going wide, quickly reading through the chat between you and the name he recognizes as your best friends, the same one whose car Jaemin had found you using as a makeshift home..

‘It’s not illegal in our state, and it’s anonymous. You won’t get caught or anything. Trust me, I worked there for 11 months, best money I’ve ever made.’

Jeno mumbles a ‘what the fuck.’ To himself, opening his phone to copy down the address she sends in next.

‘Besides, what difference does it make? You were getting fucked by your asshole ex on stream for way less.’

“What?!” Jeno looks around in shock, covering his mouth in case someone else is home. An arsenal of unanswered questions race through his mind, swiping to put your phone on ‘do not disturb’ finally as he takes a deep breath to calm down.

“There’s no way..” he chuckles, licking his lips nervously as he taps open your photos and scrolls until a locked album named ‘delete’ catches his eye.

Jeno spent a year learning different ways to break into stolen phones with not even a passcode to assist, the thrill of unknown has his thumb punching away before he can even talk himself out of it. Not that he would..

Why wouldn’t you immediately delete photos or videos you wouldn’t want anyone to see anyway? You can’t be that stupid..

“Oh shit.”

You are that stupid.

Jeno groans, leaning back in his computer chair as he slowly scrolls through the album of over 1000 photos and videos, most consisting of topless shots. More scandalous as he reaches the middle and sucks in a deep breath reading the time on the first video he sees.

Eight minutes and twenty seven seconds..

Patting around for his headphones, he plugs them in and opens the video up to hit play, sinking deeper into his seat as your face appears half-fucked out with dreamy eyes and saliva wet lips.

The deeper familiar voice he recognizes as your ex’s comes through, making his stomach tighten. “Fuck.”

‘How can you ask me for more after I just fucked you full?’

‘Please daddy, n-need more.’

The camera runs down your bare body, laid back against dark sheets with your thighs hoisted up and open; panning down to where white streaks of cum paint your stomach and mound. ‘Feel that? My dicks still so hard.’

‘Keep fucking me, don’t stop fucking me. Fuck that cum deep inside of me.’

Jeno pants, short of breath as he digs the heel of his palm against his groin and groans. Fuck fuck fuck… he knew it. The past few years of having to pretend he valued your friendship more than his desire to fuck you, he always knew you were nothing but a pathetic sobbing whore. The sound of your sobs and aroused whines vibrating through his ears has him ready to make a mess, smoothing in past the waistband of his sweats to free his length, he’s thankful for the point of view shot; making it easy to tune out the masculine grunts passing between your pretty cries.

‘Fuck. I’ll breed you better than that.’ Jeno voices to himself, surprised your lazy ex didn’t make you get on top. The amount of cum covering your lower half has his hips jumping from the chair, eager to fuck into his fist faster.

One thought continues to pass through his mind as he grips around his cock and strokes to match the pace pushing you up and down along the screen.

He needs to fuck you.

#asks #idk how else to warn this #lmk #this is from the gloryh*le fic #nct hard hours #nct smut

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abbyscherry · 5 months

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hii, hope you are having an amazing day so far. I would love to know how lawyer!abby and reader met, i feel like they met on a library or a coffee shop lmao

love your writing <33

hi baby, my day is okay. i’m just a little sleepy, but i hope yours is going amazing. thank you :(( it makes me happy you enjoy it <3

just something fluffy (i tried)

Definitely would meet you at a library. With how busy her days get, she would probably miss meeting you in a coffee shop by a few seconds because she's always on the go and the second she has her beverage for the day, she’s out of there the minute she’s paid for it.

Your schedules never really meet up, Abby is spending most of her days locked up in an office, working on yet another case while you, are too busy working at your own job, and trying to get through the day without your idiot coworkers making a mess of something or complaining about unnecessary shit that doesn’t even matter.

Thankfully though, Abby was able to have most of her morning free the following week to do whatever she wanted until she had to be at court for her case. She didn’t get free time as much as she liked, but was happy to finally have it. Which is why she enjoyed walking into the quite yet warm library a few blocks from her office building.

The weather is as usual, cold and icy when she steps through the door, her go to cup of coffee in her hands, warming up her freezing skin as her eyes trail around the almost silent library, book tucked under her arm while trying to find that little quiet, peaceful corner she usually sits, to read in.

She was more than ready to read her day away.

Forget about life for a second and delve into the world of fiction.

Until her body turned at the right time and her eyes locked onto you.

You were tucked away in the corner she usually sits in. Earphones shoved in your ears with a book in your hand, and you’re simply smiling at whatever it was that you were reading and Abby felt like she couldn’t breathe as she just stared at you. She’s not even mad you had taken her usual spot, but more just in awe of you and how peaceful you looked.

A part of her felt like she was being creepy in the way she just silently watched you carefully flip the pages of your book and tap your finger against the hardcover protecting the delicate pages. For the first time in her life, she was speechless. Speechless at how calm you looked, how pretty you were, and how you gave so much care to a book, just like she does.

Swallowing the sudden nerve and anxiousness she got just by looking at you, the blonde cleared her throat, making quick strides towards you knowing she needed to at least get your name as this might be the last time she ever see’s you, sat here in her chair, reading something that is having you giggle about.

Her hand tapped your shoulder but it was enough to have you fumbling with the book in your hands at the scare, and almost slipping off the chair when your head snapped up, eyes meeting a set of blue ones quickly. You sucked a breath through your teeth as your eyes roamed her face, to the wispy strands of hair falling from the braid, framing her face and then drifting down the dark green suit she had practically tight around every muscle and covering every inch of skin. But what had you the most? the soft, shy smile on her face as she looked down at you. “h..hi?” you stammered out nervously.

“My name’s Abig— Abby” she corrects quickly with a blush, placing her hot drink on the free space on the table beside your arm. “I was wondering if i could sit here and read my book, with you?”

Safe to say, it’s something you continued to do with her for weeks.

#ೃ⁀➷ mail received #୨୧ anonymous #lawyer!abby #modern!abby #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson drabble

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swanimagines · 2 months

Text

SLEEP THIEF | MORPHEUS

Summary: You, being plagued by a sleep thief called insomnia, managed to free Dream a few months back. Now he wants to pay you back by finding a cure for your insomnia - and maybe because he has developed feelings for you.

Once, in the realm of dreams, where reality bends and imagination takes shape, Dream of the Endless found himself trying to help a mortal, who suffered from a condition that prevented her to visit his kingdom.

Insomnia. That relentless thief of sleep that plagued your every night. Despite always being tired, having eyebags and looking old beyond your years, you were always kind to Dream. Somehow you had sensed he was a vital part in the world, and in little, tiny gestures over two years, you helped him with every way you could. “Accidentally” swiping your feet over the summoning ring. Guards hadn’t slept well, so they fell to sleep after drinking your special tea. Little things - and eventually, your constant, diligent effort was worth it and Dream got himself out. You didn’t know what had been the thing that made the trick, but his glass prison was shattered and the guards didn’t remember much - it was concluded the summoning ring had weakened over time and Dream could finally push through it.

You got fired from the mansion with the rest of the workers after Mr. Burgess was cursed with eternal nightmares and your services weren’t needed anymore - and within the first week of you tossing and turning in the bedroom of your new apartment, you got a visitor - startled by a man with glowing eyes standing in the corner of the room, almost letting out a scream before you recognised him and turned on your bedside lamp with a smile.

“Dream? Is it… really you? I thought you were gone, that I would never see you again,” you mumbled, beaming as you sat up properly. “I… I knew you got out, but I thought you’d be busy to get the world rolling again.”

Dream smiled softly, taking a step towards you. Then he spoke, with a deep voice - to be honest, you hadn’t expected him to sound like that. “Yes, it is I. I have returned to express my gratitude for the compassion and help you offered me when I needed it the most. The world is on its track again, and you are to thank for that.”

You smiled back bashfully, looking at your hands fiddling with your blanket. “It was a human thing to do. I knew your captivity was a reason why the world was messed up. I’m happy you popped by, it’s good to see you’re alright.”

Dream was quiet for a moment, studying you. Then he spoke again. “I wish to grant you the gift of sleep. You have suffered from the lack of it for so long, and a mortal like you does not deserve such a fate. It is not caused by my absence, but I want to help you with it.”

You frowned, looking up to him. “I’ve always had it. Sleeping pills help somewhat, but even they might not let me sleep throughout the whole night. Are you sure that- I mean, I know you can do it, you’re the king of dreams, after all. But are you sure your help will last? I read it may originate from the way brains are built, and I don’t know if you’re able to change it. You can’t have time to guard my sleep every night, can you?”

Dream was quiet for a moment. “I will do everything I can in my power to ensure you will be able to sleep your nights without struggle. For tonight, my sand will have to do.”

And with that, he took out his pouch and you, knowing what he was about to do, settled under your covers. You looked at Dream as he placed the sand on the palm of his hand and the last thing you saw was him blowing the powder-like sand on your face, and you fell asleep on that very moment.

—

“Are you sure about this, Dream?” Matthew asked as he flew by his master, settling onto one of the many chairs in the library. “Humans and Endless rarely mix well. You know it could be dangerous. The potential consquences could be destructive.”

Dream didn’t even look up to his companion as he read one of the many books he owned. “She showed me kindness during my captivity. It is time for me to repay that debt.”

Matthew was quiet and used the time to ponder his next words to groom himself. Then he tilted his head, studying his friend. “Are you planning to act on your feelings?”

Dream paused for a moment, tapping his fingers on the cover of the book. Then he finally looked up to his friend. “I understand your concerns, Matthew. But should we deny ourselves happiness only because the risk of heartbreak it may involve?”

Matthew sighed. “I suppose not.”

Lucienne emerged from behind the corner. “Your devotion for her is undeniable. And your wish to help her through her condition is noble - but remember the consequences what could happen if she starts to dwell in dreams and forget to live. You may get blindsided about what will lie ahead if you let your feelings overwhelm your senses.”

“I am aware, Lucienne,” Dream said, lowering his eyes back down and tracing his finger across the page of the book. “I do not know if she feels the same way. It may be she does not return my feelings for her.”

Matthew and Lucienne exchanged a glance, before the librarian handed a book to Dream. “I believe this book will help with her condition. Just… be careful, my lord.”

Dream’s eyes flickered up again, and he nodded slightly. “Thank you, Lucienne.”

And so, Matthew and Lucienne left Dream alone - he would find a cure for you, let you visit his Kingdom. And even if it would never be anything more than friendship, Dream would enjoy having you around in his Kingdom every night, walking with you through the field and listen to you telling about your day.

It had been a while since he had had a mortal human friend - Hob being immortal - but he had a feeling that you could be one of his greatest friends who have ever lived.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#morpheus x reader #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman x reader #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #morpheus fic #the sandman fic #reader insert #female reader #my works

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

Note

Ik this is more on the vague side, but ever since i read ur Irminsul headcannons about the reader in Imposter!SAGAU I got this idea, what if:

The reader could just remove info about themselves in the big tree lol - i mean, Scarab did it before might as well try it, no?

Irminsul itself might let us in without the permission of Nahida so we could go in undetected

Since looking through the memories of Irminsul might be like exploring an endless library, as long as you set your mind to it, you'd be able to find that info, like for example:

Memories about the "Creator"

Now, by now, you already know what I'm getting at, right?

Once reader finally figures out how to erase stuff by trying removing certain minor parts of Irminsul, they try to erase the entire memory of the "Creator" ever existing

Not as in like, they would forget that you were the Creator or that one exists, nor what they look like, but just the horrible memories and basically everything that the "Creator" did/made

But now, one would wonder, what would happen now?

I'd guess that, since the "Creator" is believed to love everyone, why is the one on the throne ruling and acting so... Tyrannical?

In my opinion, I feel like a rebellion would ensue sooner or later

But then, since Scarab lost his own memories when he removed himself from Irminsul, wouldn't that also mean the same thing for the "Creator" themselves?

Anyways, feel free to procrastinate and take your time on my take on reader being able to remove info on Irminsul hehe (bc honestly I'd also do that lmao)

Signing off, 🐱 Anon

WE GOT A 🐱 ANON NOW, BOIS—OPEN THE CURTAINS, OPEN THE LIGHTS! CUE THE CLAPPING AND CHEERING AUDIO TRACKS!—

Alright I'm done making a fuss about that lol—here's the headcanon/jot note version of a oneshot of everything that happens since my motivation was running low on oneshots/short stories.

Disclaimers: N/A

Reader Has Entered Irminsul...

Reader is in their Hunted Arc rn, getting chased by all of Teyvat under the "Creator's" orders. They keep running and running and running...

They're getting tired, and they soon find themselves in a dead end. They think of all the places they haven't been to yet: the desert of Sumeru, Inazuma, Mt. Aocang, Mt. Hulao, Wuwang Hill, irminsul—

Yeah, you guessed it. Just by thinking of irminsul, Reader has made it to the big 'ol Tree of Knowledge :D

Reader is shocked—surprised. But not for long—because they start to panic. They aren't sure if Nahida was on their side or not, like what the sagau fanfics say.

In fact, Reader is mainly scared that she already knows they're here.

That is, before the Reader feels a sudden urge to make it to the Tree of Knowledge. As if irminsul is calling for them specifically. They're weary of what this all means, but at the same time, intrigued.

It was the first time they felt like this. So, naturally, they followed what their gut was telling them, hoping that they won't regret this decision.

Reader gets close to the tree, surprised that they managed to make their way to it without requiring access from Nahida or even getting lost just to navigate the route to get there.

The moment they touch irminsul's trunk, however, the Reader feels a sudden blast of information, as if Teyvat itself is giving them the resources to know what to do.

By the time Nahida feels something from irminsul and she arrives to see what's up, it's too late. The Reader's already made the change.

All tyranny of the "Creator" was erased. None of it happened. Not once, not ever. The Palace of the Creator was never created, the Imposter themself never took on any throne...nothing.

Reader comes back to Mondstadt, hoping that what they did worked.

It did. No one remembers what the Creator looks like. There was no Imposter impersonating them. Reader was free.

They were free! They did it! They could travel the entire world now without risking getting killed! They could finally find a portal home!

Except...they forgot the Traveler existed. But even the Traveler is glad there is no more tyranny.

Andd, that's all I got! Sorry if it's short lol—I ran out of ideas for this :') I hope it's okay for y'all.

See you all around! :D

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: So, as I've been writing this, I'm going to give you guys a little update on something that you all really enjoyed in the past.

So, you know "Forever In My Hold" and "A Path Beyond Hope" oneshots? Yes, this is regarding of the little series that has been created. I have decided that I will be making a Part 3, but it will take a very long while. And it will be the LAST PART of the series. I just can't find the motivation to continue it longer.

Also: Should I do a remake of Live or Die? It's a very old writing of mine, back when I first began this blog. I'm not sure if y'all want to read it, but idk if I want to make a remake. Please let me know :)

#genshin sagau #sagau #sagau x reader #sagau genshin #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau impostor au #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #sagau nahida #genshin self aware #self aware genshin

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steddieasitgoes · 7 months

Text

written for @eddiemonth Day 6 Prompt: Crush cw: period typical homophobia read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

The Hawkins High Library is somehow both quiet and bustling. There’s not a free table in sight; students hunched together in groups of twos and threes. Loners are forced to share with others. All of them with their noses deep into study guides, highlighters perched between tense lips. Some flip through flashcards, mumbling answers as the librarian watches over with a stern look, ready to shush anyone who dares make a sound.

The sun beats down on the small room, rays of warmth promising free days to come. Summer break is on the horizon. All that stands between them and three months of endless freedom is finals.

Finals, which, in Eddie’s case, don’t just promise a summer of freedom. But a life free from high school altogether. Assuming he manages to finally pass Mrs. O’Donnell’s chemistry final.

The odds of this happening, though, are not very great. Especially since he’s already failed her chemistry class once before. (Honestly, Hawkins High should just hire a new chemistry teacher and stop putting everyone through her miserable class.)

But it’s okay because Eddie’s actually been trying this semester.

As in, he finally suffered through the mortifying ordeal of asking for help and landed himself the best tutor that Hawkins High has to offer: Nancy Wheeler.

With her help, he’s managed to bring his F up to a low D- which isn’t great, but it's the closest he’s ever been to passing. Now, all he has to do is get a C on the final and submit some lame extra credit essay, and he should be able to turn that D- into a D+ and pass the class.

At least, that’s the plan.

Which is why he’s currently tucked away at a library table opposite Nancy and the King of Hawkins high himself, Steve Harrington, instead of bumming around in Jeff’s garage planning their summer Hellfire campaign.

“Okay,” Nancy says, pulling his attention away from the giant library window. She’s holding an index card in her hands. Her usual pristine manicure chipped. Nails bit as short as possible. Eddie supposes the stress of finals even gets to the nerds. “A proton has what kind of charge?”

“Positive.”

She nods, not one for verbal praise, and flips to the next card. “What happens in an endergonic reaction?”

Shit.

He should know this one.

Eddie taps his pencil against the table. Tilts his head back until his eyes are focused on the ugly popcorn ceiling of the library as if it holds the answers. It doesn’t, unfortunately. Frustrated, he buries his head in his hands for a moment before peering up at Nancy with his big brown eyes and a solemn look on his face.

Steve scoffs beside Nancy, looking up from his own study guide to throw an arm possessively around her.

Eddie’s about to call him out on his weird macho man behavior when his stomach starts to growl. Jesus H. Christ. He knew he shouldn’t have skipped lunch today.

Nancy sighs, shaking Steve’s arm off of her as she stands. “I’m going to go grab us some snacks from the vending machine.”

“You’re the best, Wheeler!” Eddie smiles, watching as Nancy walks away.

When he turns back to the table, ready to flip the flashcard over to learn what an endergonic reaction is, Steve is glaring at him. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest as he leans back in the chair. Eddie can tell he’s trying to look casual and unbothered, but the tension in his jaw and the rage in his eyes say otherwise.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, my liege?”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m stupid, Munson? I can see you flirting with my girlfriend right in front of me.”

Eddie stares at Steve dumbfounded, wide eyes blinking as Steve continues to glare. There’s a rumble in the pit of his stomach, one that stems from laughter instead of hunger, but Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep it at bay. Something tells him laughing at Steve isn’t going to end well for him. He might have a bad track record when it comes to fights, but the only punch Eddie has ever thrown was accidental at a haunted house. And he ended up bruising his own hand instead of the clown’s nose.

“I don’t have a crush on Nancy.”

“Sure you don’t,” Steve hums sarcastically, crossing his arms even tighter.

The stupid sleeves of his striped polo strain against the bulge of his biceps, and Eddie tries his best not to stare. Oh, if only you knew the truth, Harrington.

“Every guy here has a crush on Nancy. Especially since they know they can’t have her.”

This time, it’s Eddie who scoffs. Objectively, sure, Nancy’s cute and all. But, the audacity of Harrington to think every guy wants her just because he has her is more irritating than comical. He doesn’t think Nancy would be too thrilled about it either.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Harrington, but I don’t think about Nancy like that.”

“So, what are you a queer then?” Steve snaps.

Eddie feels his skin heat up like the blood is rushing to his cheeks and his ears, and then, as quickly as the temperature rises, it sinks, sending him into a numbing cold. Judging by Harrington’s wide eye gaze, Eddie assumes he looks like a guy who’s two seconds away from hurling or passing out on the floor. Both of which he’d welcome. Anything is better than having this conversation with Harrington.

“Wait,” Steve says as if Eddie has the strength to get up from his seat. “Shit, I’m sorry. I— I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really sorry, man. I’m trying not to be this asshole, and then I go and say asshole shit like that. I just—“ Steve drags both hands down his face as he groans.

“You’re in love with her and don’t want another freak stealing her from you?” Eddie supplies, totally caught off guard by the sound of his own voice. Honestly, he’s kinda proud of himself for stringing together a coherent sentence, let alone a dig like that, after Steve’s insult-turned-apology.

Steve doesn’t say anything, just stares at Eddie with those stupid wide eyes, and his even stupider lips barely parted.

“What? It was kind of hard to ignore the little lover's quarrel you and Byers got into last winter. But trust me, Harrington. You have nothing to worry about. All I want from Wheeler is her help passing chem. As soon as I get that, I’ll be out of both of your hair.”

Eddie can tell Steve’s thinking of a way to respond to that, but he never gets the chance because Nancy reappears just then. She dumps a handful of “brain food” on the table — mostly trail mix concoctions and a lone Snickers bar — and passes each of the boys a bottle of water. It’s not exactly what Eddie was hoping for when she left for snacks, but he’s not about to complain.

“Okay, so, endergonic reactions.”

+ + +

Truthfully, Eddie should stop making plans since they never seem to go his way. What was supposed to be a chill, music-filled spring break has turned into quite the opposite.

Instead, he’s spent the last two days in hiding, with only a handful of people keeping him safe, including Harrington and Wheeler, of all people.

So much for staying out of their hair, he thinks manically, as he walks in tandem beside Steve in the actual hell-like version of Hawkins. They trail behind Robin and Nancy, Eddie rambling on and on about Steve, but he just can’t shut up. Maybe it’s the nerves, maybe it’s the memory of the three of them back in that library, maybe it’s just Eddie self-sabotaging because seeing Steve in his vest is doing things to him. Things he doesn't have time to deal with, especially not when Wheeler is right there.

Whatever it is, Eddie’s about to do the stupidest thing he’s ever done, aside from jumping into Lover's Lake in the first place.

Steve stops walking the minute Eddie starts talking about why he followed them here. They stop beside a tree, and Eddie angles his body so he’s in front of Steve. Probably closer than he should be, but Eddie’s not about to step backward. Not when there could be a creepy vine ready to trip him and give their positions away to the hoard of bats in the sky. No, thank you.

He presses on instead, talking about Nancy and her incredible reaction time to Steve being dragged deeper and deeper into the murky waters.

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back,” Eddie says, eyes locked with Steve’s. “Because that was an unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

With a hand clasped over his heart, Eddie watches as Steve glances towards Nancy’s direction. There’s a moment where Eddie thinks Steve’s actually going to listen to him. Run after the girl of his dreams and professes his undying love to her in the middle of the hell dimension version of Hawkins. But then, he slowly turns his head back toward Eddie and shakes his head.

“I don’t...” Steve hesitates, eyes flickering to Eddie’s lips for the briefest of seconds before settling back on his eyes. He shakes his head. “I don’t have a crush on Nancy, man.”

Eddie cocks his head in surprise. Lets a cackle of a laugh escape his lips as he stares back at Steve in disbelief. “You don’t have to bullshit me, man. It’s pretty clear you still have a thing for her. I mean, every guy in Hawkins has a crush on Nancy, remember.”

Steve’s brows knit together, lips agape in that same stupid thinking face he gave Eddie all those years ago in the Hawkins High library. It’s aggravating how cute it is, even now when Steve’s covered in blood and grime and God knows what else.

“Yeah, well,” Steve says, eyes slowly tracking Eddie from head to toe and back up again. “Turns out you were right. Not every guy has a crush on her. Some of us have eyes for someone else.”

Just as Steve starts to lean in, the ground beneath them starts to rumble and shake, sending them both toppling to the floor. Whatever moment just happened between them disappears as the reality of their situation hits them again.

There’s no time for crushes when their lives are at stake.

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fic #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stancy #stancy fic #stancy ficlet #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler fic #nancy wheeler ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson & nancy wheeler #dani writes

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kirimoochi · 9 months

Text

bookworm of a man.

₊˚ ᗢ alhaitham x gn!reader, modern au.

⤷ what is he like in college?

It comes as no surprise that the man is extremely studious. He spends most of his time in the library, his nose stuck in a few literary books. He’s the type that stays there all day and night. The same kind that would on occasion, pull all-nighters and take naps with a book laid out on the table. It takes a lot of restraint to keep you from barging into the library and pulling him by the ear just for him to go home.

He can be a little arrogant at times. His tongue is sharp but it’s unintentional. He’s straightforward and always feels the need to talk for himself. He doesn’t like misunderstandings and makes it a habit to clear up any that arise. It can be frustrating at times when you get into arguments with him. He always wants to prove himself, and he knows deep down it’s his way of trying to show that he cares about something. He tries to add a few trendy words in an attempt to come off as “in-tune” or aware (there was a moment in your life where he couldn’t stop using ‘bombastic side eye’ whenever his roommate did anything troubling).

He is a linguistics major, so he takes the time to create his own language in his free time. As requested by his professor, he’s been trying it out in front of you. While many people shrug off his commentary, such as Kaveh, you are fascinated by his language. Most of the time you don’t understand what he’s saying. A lot of what he explains flies over your head, but seeing you so immersed in trying to learn makes the edges of his lips curve into a small smile. He takes the time to write on sticky notes about a few words and pronunciations, hoping that eventually you and him might hold a conversation in his language.

He would read all kinds of books, whether it be a physics book tucked away in the obscure corner of the room, or a cheesy romance novel about two teenagers pining for each other. Whatever it is, he has most likely read it and will give you his review. It comes in handy when you ask him about a reading you had for class, he always has something to say. If you need to rent a book, you could always come to him, and get Al-Haitham’s annotated copy. Flipping through it, you can see that he has written on the margins a few comments (some are critiques, others are question marks). His favorite color to use for sticky notes and tabs tend to be teal and ocean blue.

Although he is well-off, he chooses to live in the student dormitory. His reasoning for doing so was rather strange and uncharacteristic of him. He believed that by choosing the dorms, he might be able to find an equal to his rambles. However, what he was stuck with was a boisterous, blond architecture major named Kaveh. They bicker night and day. It gets so heated that their other roommates have filed noise complaints against them. It’s a rather funny thing, you still laugh at it to this day. Al-Haitham’s attempt at making friends was to simply live in the dormitories, and that lead him to find not an equal, but his polar opposite.

For someone who is engrossed in literature and language, Kaveh makes it a point to call him out on his physique. He says it’s unfair: how could someone as lazy and unenthusiastic as Al-Haitham have such a nice, toned body? Perhaps it was the fact that aside from studying, he goes to the gym to clear his mind. It was an easy place to wear his headphones, and play some obscure playlist you’d created for him. No one goes out of their way to bother him unless it's about the machine. And you find it rather endearing that whatever song you put in the playlist, he would always listen to. He even goes as far as to give you his analysis of the song lyrics, even if they are extremely straightforward.

While he may live with his roommate Kaveh, that doesn’t stop him from inviting you over to his place. He says it’s nice to have a conversation with you when it’s not so loud outside. It has gotten to the point where Kaveh expects you to be home. He thinks it's a blessing in disguise because while he has to deal with Al-Haitham’s snotty comments, he is at the very least, in a better mood. Was that your charm working wonders on the man? Did you finally wear him down? You’ve broken him, Kaveh says, he never cooks (you’ve come to learn from this moment on that Al-Haitham has been living off of dining hall food for half a year), look at him now, making pasta for you.

“Today’s reading?” He hums, resting his chin against the palm of his hand. He looks up to you with an amused smile. “I read it back when I was in middle school. If you want me to send you my notes, you just have to say please.”

#₊˚ ᗢ kirimoochi #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #alhaitham #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x reader

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faeriekit · 5 months

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How to get a library card: the whole process.

Call your local library. Ask them how to get one.

Do what they tell you

The end.

...Okay I'm kidding.

Call your local library. Every library will have its own restrictions, so make sure that you double check with the library that you are in their service area and ask how to confirm such when you go in.

They usually ask you for documents, such as proof that you're a real human and proof that you live/work/are educated in their service area. This usually means going in with your driver's license, and if you're new in town, going in with a license plus your water bill/cell bill/electricity bill/rental agreement/credit bill to prove that you're paying something official at this address in town. If you're from out of the country but living here, that means whatever paper you need to prove you're tied to an address here plus your passport. Doesn't matter if it's foreign. It's from your government. It counts. If you're going to school/working, you might need to bring in a work id or school id, or even a bill or pay stub.

BUT you may be able to fill out half the paperwork online. This is why you call ahead to find out if they have a digital form on their website. This saves you from filling out the paper form in person.

You go in and fill out the paper form/confirm you did it digitally and show off your documents. Usually they just slap a card on the table right then HOWEVER:

Sometimes public libraries cost money for their cards. I consider this highway robbery. You may qualify for a card in a different service area, so don't immediately fork over $60 bucks or whatever they're asking without checking other libraries around you.

You might qualify for cards for more than one library, see above; some college libraries will let locals make cards, and some public libraries will let you make cards if you go to school or work in the area.

Yes, you can email your library instead of call, but we can guide you over the phone a lot faster than we can by email, and honestly, the immediate response of a phone is going to be way faster than trying to email us.

Sometimes there are other, secret fees, like charging you to borrow only certain items and not others. This has never made sense to me.

There may be other secrets your library card may offer you, such as ebooks or shows through libby/hoopla, museum passes, kits, and more! Ask what other services your library card offers you while you're at the desk!

There have been libraries giving out free cards to teens and those in censorship-affected areas in recent years. Keep an eye out for people who are advertising such online and follow up with that library following steps 1-3

Happy reading, happy listening, and happy visiting! Remember: read banned books, and don't talk to cops!

#Library posting

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aphroditeslover11 · 7 months

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Exam Shenanigans

Oppie x Reader

Summary: Oppie helps you through a tough exam.

A/N: My first time writing anything so please be kind. Lloyd is totally fictional, as is Oppenheimer in this as he is mainly based on Cillian Murphy’s portrayal. If you like it please feel free to get in touch.

It was just a regular evening, Robert had been working at the university as usual and had just got back to his house in Shasta road, hoping that he’d just be able to have a quiet evening in, maybe get on with a bit more of his current paper or discuss the new book that you’d been reading together. Instead he walked through the door to darkness. The house seemed empty until he reached the living room where he found you, single light on in the corner and hunched over, seemingly heaving.

“Y/N, are you alright darling?” he asked, switching on another light before making his way over to you. It soon became clear that you had been crying, leaning over a book that you had been trying to read through your tears.

“I’m fine Robert, nothing that you need to worry about.” Not satisfied with your response he adjusted the cushions of the sofa, sitting down beside you. He wasn’t always the most sensitive to the emotions of others, but he could at least tell when you were lying to him.

“Love, you’ve been crying, something must be wrong.” He noticed then that you were moving to hide the book down the side of the sofa. “Was your novel sad, unhappy ending?” he pushed a little further. You just shook your head at him, still silent, as if speaking would set you off again. “What is it you’re reading anyway?” With that he gently reached across you, taking the book from your grasp and noticing your brief reluctance to release it. As soon as he saw the title he understood why you were crying: ‘A Comprehensive History Of The Late Western Empire’, a history textbook.

As soon as you knew that he had seen it you started to explain. “My professor set a surprise exam on the Roman Empire and I don’t know anything about it. We were meant to be doing the French Revolution when I took the course, but he changed his mind on units last minute. ”

“I’m sure we can sort it out, you don’t need to be so upset love. Who’s your professor? Maybe I could pull some strings and get you transferred.” he said taking you into his arms, the reassurance driving any tears away. You were a student at Berkeley, having met Robert through friends at a social event and quickly falling for him. After a period of dating your accommodation had fallen through and he had insisted that you move in with him. It was fast, but you stayed over half the time anyway, so it made sense.

“Lloyd, but I don’t want to transfer, he already doesn’t like me and I don’t want it to look like I’m giving up.”

“Lloyd wouldn’t do anything for me anyway, hates my guts, that’s probably why he’s difficult with you.” Although Robert loved it at Berkeley and was friends with half of the faculty, he didn’t get on so well with the other half, who openly hated anyone with his kind of politics.

“Well then, there’s only one other solution, we’ll have to work through it together.”

“Robert, I love you, but the exam’s in a week and I have no idea what’s going on, all the people in that book have the same bloody name. What do you know about the Roman Empire anyway? You’re a physicist.” The man chuckled slightly at that remark, lightly stroking your hair to relieve your angst.

“You happen to be very lucky, because one of the classes that I took when I was at Harvard was history, and I happen to have read all 3,000 pages of Edward Gibbon’s ‘Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire’. I might just be able to remember a thing or two.” Robert really was unbelievable sometimes, you just had to hope that he had the knowledge to face the challenge as well as the cockiness, though he usually did.

The next week was spent with your head in and out of books. Robert would borrow books from the Berkeley library whilst he was at work, bringing them home to you. He spoke to a friend who worked in the history department who gave you some pointers on what to focus on. By the end of the week you weren’t perfect, but you knew a lot more about Rome than you used to, thanks at least partly to Oppie’s efforts. He drove you in on the day of the exam, smiling at you softly as you went through some last minute notes from the papers sat in your lap. He delivered a chaste kiss to your lips, offering reassuring words as you left the car, ready to face the music.

Five days later you came into Robert’s office at the university, interrupting him grading papers, but he would always drop everything for you. He looked up to see you waving an envelope in your hand.

“We got the grades back today, but I couldn’t bring myself to it open without you.” He extended an arm to you, scooting his chair back so that you could situate yourself in his lap.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he asked once you had yourself settled, handing you a letter opener. Nervously, you took the proffered tool, ripping across the top of the envelope in one swift motion. Pulling out the piece of paper, your eyes immediately went to the letter written at the top of the page. A.

You immediately jumped from Robert’s lap, squealing in happiness. He was reserved as ever, though his face broke into a wide smile once he saw the piece of paper that you had dropped in your excitement. He stood up to join you in celebration, pulling you into his arms before planting a firm kiss to your lips.

“I’m so proud of you love, I knew that you could do it.”

“Not without you Rob, you’ve been a godsend this past week.”

“Have a little more faith in yourself love. But forgetting everything else, what do you say to going out to celebrate? Maybe grab dinner and have a couple of drinks?”

“That sounds wonderful Robert,” you replied, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

#1950s #oppenheimer #american prometheus #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #exam season #oppenheimer x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #j robert oppenheimer #tommy shelby x reader #christopher nolan #fanfic

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adalwolfgang · 8 months

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Could you make a little story for Castiel where he meets a young mute girl who communicates through ASL?

Castiel meeting and befriending a mute reader

warnings: Cursing, fluff, angsty (very little) A/n: I am not mute but I am familiar with people I know personally who are deaf and use sign language. Also, I have not watched supernatural in a good while so I don't remember what all powers angels have so some of these might be inaccurate from the show.

credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)

This was unexpected for the angel. One second, he's strolling around a town him, Sam, and Dean had stopped at to investigate a large number of murders that have been occurring to sitting on a swing set with a little girl sitting beside him in a park, making hand motions.

She was mute.

He didnt know what these hand motions meant but he was easily able to understand once he read her mind. It was as if she was saying what each meaning of the sign meant as she moved her hands and fingers without moving her lips. He could hear her voice but only in her own conscious.

"Where is your parents? Or guardian?" he asked as he tilted his head with curiosity and concern. The reminder of why he was there in the first place brought him out of his thoughts as worry soon became present on his face. It was safe for someone to be out here on their own, especially a young one at that.

A childish smile appears on your face as you quickly point over to a food truck a few feet away. Your guardian chatting with the owner, their back facing you. Castiel looks to where you were pointing before looking back over at you. The concern slowly leaving his features but not completely gone.

"You be careful when you are out of arms reach from your guardian. Understand?"

You bob your head up and down in response, giving him a thumbs up for more confirmation at his words. Castiel was still a little skeptical at the thought of whatever or whoever has been behind the killings find you and pick you off as a easy target. Many questions started appearing in his head. How would you scream for help? What if no one seen you get taken? What if you cant free yourself from their grasp?

You could see his brows furrow as his eyes drifting toward the dirt in thought. Whatever was on this strange man's mind must've been big as lines formed on his forehead and the corner of his eyes crinkled slightly. You place a hand on the trench coat he adored, even though it was summer time. You started rubbing the fabric between your fingertips, the action making Castiel look down at your hand and then at your face. You suddenly stop the action, staring into his deep colored eyes as well. You thought he had very beautiful eyes. This made a soft smile form on his lips which made your eyes widen. You didnt say that aloud did you? No, that's impossible. Unless?

'Are you a angel?' you signed, this time slower.

The smile on Castiel's face grows as he slowly nods his head, raising his index finger and putting in to his lips as if you both were sharing a secret. Before you could react, your name was shouted. You spun your head around to see your guardian walking over toward you, a hotdog wrapped in tinfoil in each hand. When they finally get close enough you sign,

'I made a friend'

"oh really?" they look around the park curiously before back down at you.

"Where is this friend of yours?"

You turn around expecting to see the man in the trench coat, but he wasn't there. The empty swing was slowly rocking back and forth but no one was there. A wave of confusion and sadness washed over you as your guardian just shrugged it off, taking a seat on the swing the stranger had been, handing you a hotdog.

Back at the bunker, Castiel was sitting in one of the many chairs in the library with his chin propped up on his hand. His back was slumped as he sat in thought. He wanted to protect you. He wanted to be there for you when you needed him. He wanted to be your friend. Dean and Sam finally came back, walking down the stairs and quickly spotting the angel they had been trying to contact.

"Hey man, where the hell did you go? You just wandered off and left us!" Dean was quick to jump on the angels case but he wasn't in the mood to hear any of it and quickly disappeared.

"The hell was that all about?" Castiel left the brothers both confused and concerned.

#castiel #spn x you #spn x reader #spn castiel #castiel x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural #castiel winchester #angel x reader #fallen angel x reader #mute!reader #mute reader

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everybodyshusband · 5 months

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oh satan devour us all (hear our desperate call)

cowbell/zephyr (ghost band)

explicit | nb/nb | 6.3k words | it/its cowbell, they/them zephyr, free use, predator/prey, subtob zephyr, riding, semi-public sex, shifting genitals, objectification, earth/quintessence multi ghoul cowbell

—this fic is a (very late) birthday gift for my absolutely beloved friend @spoiledleaff for a little birthday fic exchange we organised for each other <3 i asked him what he wanted and they asked for cowbell being a menace (/aff) to zephyr, so that's what this is !! it's actually supposed to piggyback off of the practice scene in his very own terzomega fic, so go and read that as well if you're able to !! happy birthday, ashton !! i can't believe i've known you for an entire year already <3

snippet and ao3 link under the cut !

gif credit: @/kazoo-lord

The only fault in this system is that Cowbell seems to have taken a liking to playmates with… unique vessels. In the case of the air ghoul sitting opposite it on the other side of the library, this refers to the way their vessel’s functionality varies from day to day. Some days, the air ghoul is able to walk with ease, perform their daily tasks, wield the keys of the chapel organ to create haunting melodies that echo out through the grounds of the Ministry. But on other days, they can’t walk without one of their canes, let alone make their daily lemongrass and ginger tea without aid from a willing hand. On their especially bad days, they might not even be able to roll over in bed without having to hold back a pained wail. All this is to say that although Cowbell may take joy from pushing its partners to the edge of their comfort zone—especially Zephyr—it would never wish any extra pain upon them. Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the earth ghoul wouldn’t wish extra pain upon them unless it is the one inflicting it. Therefore, a system had to be developed, which Zephyr seemed to take in their stride. They’d designed an entire colour-based system which corresponds with their pain levels, and many of the earth ghoul’s similarly-vesseled partners have also chosen to adopt it for themselves over time. Cowbell is the first to admit Zephyr’s idea is genius; especially given the air ghoul’s tendencies to ‘forget’ their cane on their days of bad pain, making it nearly impossible for Cowbell to garner whether its mate is genuinely in excruciating pain due to the state of their vessel, or if they are simply playing into Cowbell’s twisted fantasies. Their lighter bells—pale pinks, blues and yellows—are ones they wear in order to signify to Cowbell that although Zephyr is still very interested in being taken and used until they’re seeing stars, Cowbell needs to treat them gently—to degrade them with its words rather than its actions—lest it make anything more painful for them than it already is. Zephyr’s dark coloured bells on the other hand—deep reds, blues, greens and blacks—are used to signify a good pain day; their way of wordlessly telling Cowbell that the two of them are free to do anything it sets its mind to, regardless of the position or any other factor that might put strain on weary joints—provided it’s not on Zephyr’s list of hard limits, of course; although there have been a few occasions when the air ghoul has begged for–

But that’s not important right now.

Right now, Cowbell is sure Zephyr’s bell is dark today, but they’re in the middle of checking a book out for a Sibling and it can’t get a proper glimpse of the specific colour the air ghoul is donning today. Its lack of clear view infuriating, but the anticipation has the earth ghoul all fired up and it’s sure that when the time comes, it will be able to wreck Zephyr twice as hard as it normally would—provided that their softly jingling indicator is, in fact, one of dark colour.

“Oh, I love your bell!” The Sibling says—Cowbell’s almost certain that she is the Sister it was chasing through the Abbey’s halls just last week, a pretty, deep pink bell attached to the ribbon wrapped around her wrist—as she reaches a finger out to tap Zephyr’s bell lightly, giggling at the soft jingle it elicits. Cowbell growls and feels its eyes glint with malice at someone touching its Zephyr.

Zephyr affixes the Sister with a look—they know all about her adventures with Cowbell, the earth ghoul itself had told them just last week—but smiles, flattered. If Cowbell’s vision is not failing it from so far away, the air ghoul looks offended that the Sister would even consider touching its bell—Zephyr is well aware that although the bell may live in their dorm, it’s not theirs, it’s Cowbell’s. They incline their head in her direction, always the epitome of politeness despite their obvious frustration. “Many thanks, Sister.” She takes the book back from them and finally moves out of the way, providing Cowbell with a direct line of sight to Zephyr’s neck, an obsidian black bell dangling from their carefully crafted collar. Their way of silently telling Cowbell that it’s a good pain day. That they’re wanting for more than the light green bell Cowbell had slipped into their pocket at practice in anticipation of a bad pain day. That no holds need to be barred. That the earth ghoul has permission to destroy Zephyr if it sees fit, and, fuck, is it going to wreck them until they’re seeing double. That’s what it promised to do during today’s practice after all…

[read the rest on ao3 !!]

#cowbell ghoul #zephyr ghoul #chAir ghoul #<- i don't know if that tag is still active but just in case :))#nonbinary zephyr #nonbinary cowbell #cowbell/zephyr #zephyr/cowbell #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #husband writes #spicy tag #cw free use

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dudadragneel · 6 months

Text

Hello guys! It's me!

How are you doing?

AFTER HALF A CENTURY...IM BACK WITH ANOTHER SICKFIC!

Now, this one was supposed to be a little drabble but I got a little carried away...

Anyways, enjoy!

Thinking about Hyunjin who has a really bad stomachache and he’s been crying on and off all day and can barely eat anything but once he feels a bit better he goes with reader to the library while she study’s in silence and he just kinda tries to distract himself with reading, but then he starts feeling nauseous and can’t really talk because yk you gotta be QUIET in a library. So he has to text her to tell her he feels like he’s going to vomit but she’s not quite getting the hint that he wants to leave so he has to be really blunt with her 😭. THEN she takes him outside and he just dry heaves, then she gives him water and he just throws up the water. but when they get in the car…oh that’s a WHOLE new situation and mess.

LIBRARY DATE

While you were on your midterms, Hyunjin was in a well-deserved rest period. However, the poor boy's body was feeling the toll from the last promotion. His immune system wasn't doing that great and he ate something that didn't sit well with his stomach.

He woke up with a really bad stomach ache, it was a sharp pain around his middle, especially sharp in the pit of his stomach. The pain was so strong he actually started crying at some point.

- babe, it hurts!

- oh baby. I know it does. I gave you medicine, it will take some time for it to work. Do you want to eat some light soup? Or maybe a fruit?

- no...it feels horrible...I feel like I've eaten enough for the week.

- but you didn't eat anything. Not since last night.

-I know....but I just can't, it's hurting too much.

- oh Hyune...do you want me to rub your belly?

- yes...

You sat next to him at the edge of the bed where he was lying down and proceeded to rub his belly. He felt comfortable with your touch and closed his eyes to try and rest. In a few minutes, he managed to fall asleep.

You let him rest while you finished doing your chores at the house and prepared something light for him to eat in case he woke up feeling a little better.

A few hours later, he woke up feeling a little better, the pain was barely there and he was actually feeling a bit hungry.

You had prepared some light snacks for him, as you thought that would sit better than soup.

- Hey sleepyhead.

- Hey babe.

He said going towards you like a little kid for a hug.

You hugged him as he buried his face on your shoulders and spoke softly.

- Are you feeling better?

- Yeah...a little....

- Do you want to eat something?

- Yeah...

- Come on.

You said as you grabbed his hand and walked to the table. You served him the snacks you were preparing before in hopes he'd be able to get at least a little bite in.

- You don't have to eat everything. Just pick what you think your stomach will agree with.

- Woah! Thank you, honey.

You just smiled as you sat in front of him while he ate. You kept scrolling through your phone and chatting with him.

- Hyune

- Hm?

- I'm thinking about going to the library to study later. Are you gonna be ok alone?

- Can I accompany you?

- are you sure? Are you feeling better?

- Yeah. I think going out of the house might help me feel less stressed.

- Okay then. Why don't you finish eating and while you digest your food, I'll take a shower and get ready?

- ok!

He did as you told him, he sat on the couch and patiently waited while you showered and gathered your stuff.

The local library wasn't that big but it was beautiful and cozy and definitely helped you feel more concentrated to study.

You found a free table, sat down, and organized your things, you put on your earphones to help you concentrate more. Hyunjin just sat in front of you, completely in love seeing you so focused. He loved seeing how passionate you were about the things you did, even if it was just sitting down and studying.

He couldn't really keep on using his phone so he decided to look for a book about art to read while you studied.

At first, he was entertained, almost like a toddler, he managed to learn about some other painting techniques and he was happy that this outing turned out to be productive for him as well.

But then things started to go south. As he was reading, the stomachache from earlier was starting to turn into full nausea.

And unfortunate to him because, ironically, he picked a book that had tons of Van Gogh's paintings in it, and all that swirling werent helping at all.

He brought a hand to his stomach and gently pressed on it because even though he felt nauseous, the pain from earlier was still lingering around.

He tried to stay focused on the book but the more he tried to read or look at the pictures the more his stomach twisted. He placed the book on the table, closed his eyes took and deep breath in, and exhaled, trying to keep the nausea at bay.

He kept bringing his hand to his stomach and fidgeting on the chair, most to catch your attention, but you were basically in another dimension of full focus, and he didn't really want to use his phone and risk feeling even worse.

But the nausea was growing stronger, so he had no other option. He got his phone and texted you, but the contents of the message weren't shown so you just shrugged it off as him trying to distract you.

He sent a few more texts, but you didn't even bother looking up, part of you wanted to show him that you could stay focused even when he incorporated a toddler to annoy you. But little did you know the distress he was in.

He set down his phone and lay his head on his arms, but the nausea was reaching its peak. He could feel the little he had eaten earlier sloshing around and his mouth started pooling with saliva. He started to swallow convulsively but things just weren't working.

He felt something rushing up his chest and a foul taste in his mouth, he was gonna throw up and there was nothing more he could do to avoid it. And you still hadn't read his texts. He didn't want to talk, first because you were in a library and it was really quiet, and second because he was afraid that if he opened his mouth he'd throw up right then and there, but he had no other choice. He needed to get out of there.

He abruptly put down your book and if you weren't in a library, you would've yelled at him.

You looked straight at him but before you could even get angry, he took his only chance.

- I'm gonna throw up.

He said as quietly as possible but still urgent. Apparently, just admitting that he was gonna be sick, made his stomach contract and he was quick to cover his mouth to surpass a gag.

- Shit.

You said standing up and getting to his side. You just grabbed his arm and wrapped your arm around him as you guided him out, his body already bending over as his stomach contracted again.

Unfortunately for him, some people noticed the sudden commotion.

For some reason, the bathroom wasn't near the room you were in, so you just took him outside in the yard.

He bent over, hands on his knees for support while you kept on holding his arm and rubbing his back.

He spat out the thick saliva that had filled his mouth as you two were walking out of the room.

He felt awful, saliva kept filling his mouth over and over again and he just kept spitting it out. But the nausea was still there and it was strong.

He tried straightening his back for a bit to see if he would feel any different, but it just made his stomach flip again.

He bent over one more time and began gagging again, you could feel him tensing up under your touch with every gag but nothing but saliva came out. You felt horrible and could only hope people would just pass by and not notice him.

- Hyune? May I try something?

He just nodded. You massaged his stomach with a bit of pressure to see if you could stimulate it somehow to help him get whatever was making him feel bad out. But it didn't work, he just kept dry heaving.

- I-I feel awful...my stomach is churning and flipping but nothing is coming up...

- Oh baby...Why don't you try drinking some water? Maybe trying to get something in will help you throw up. Don't take small sips, just try to drink as you normally would.

You handed him your bottle of water and he drank it just as you said.

He drank almost half a bottle and he could feel his stomach revolting inside him. He bent over again and gagged a few times before his stomach contracted a little more and brought up all the water he had just drank but nothing else.

You kept rubbing his back as he proceeded to throw up water and thick saliva. In a few minutes, he was left dry heaving again. You gave him some water to rinse his mouth and then wiped it.

- Babe? Why don't we sit down for a bit?

- Hmm...

You guided him to a nearby tree and helped him sit down.

- How are you feeling?

- Sick...

- Okay. Let's go home. I'll go grab our stuff.

- I'm sorry...I'm sorry for interrupting your study...

- Don't apologize...I should be the one apologizing for not noticing sooner... Just wait here, I'll be right back.

He lay his back on the tree and tilted his head back with his eyes closed. He took deep breaths and tried to pay attention to his breathing or the sound of the leaves rustling with the wind, anything that could distract him from nausea in his stomach.

You grabbed your stuff and apologized for the sudden commotion and left to get the sick boy waiting by the tree.

- Come on, let's go. Can you stand?

- Can you help me?

- Of course.

You positioned your arms beneath his while he held you for support, and helped him to his feet. You stood like that for a while, with a firm grip on him, to make sure he wasn't feeling faint before heading to the car.

- Do you prefer to roll down your window or the AC?

- The AC...I'm afraid that any smell will enter the car if the windows are open.

- Okay. Babe, tell me if you feel like throwing up, okay? So I can at least try to pull over.

- Okay.

The first 30 minutes of the ride were okay. He kept his eyes closed while you held his hand, thank God for automatic cars. You kept quiet the whole time because you didn't want to overwhelm him.

But then, the worst happened. Traffic. For some reason, traffic stopped. And you felt desperate because you wanted to get home fast, so Hyunjin could rest.

- Shit! There must've been an accident or the traffic lights are broken...you okay?

He just nodded and closed his eyes again. You knew he wasn't okay, he was far from being okay. Traffic felt like it was moving one centimeter at a time.

He was okay at first because the car wasn't moving but the realization that he'd be stuck in a car for god knows how long while feeling sick made everything worse.

The nausea which was somewhat controlled, increased ten times. He squeezed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh while his hands gripped his thighs and the door handle with such force his knuckles turned white. He tried taking deep breaths but the sudden movement of the car made his stomach jolt. He felt something coming up his throat and started to swallow convulsively. There's no chance in hell he was gonna throw up inside the car, he had already ruined your study day and now he was going to soil your car with vomit? No chance.

You were too focused on the road, trying to understand what was causing the traffic jam, so you didn't notice him fidgeting by your side.

He managed to swallow it back but it was a useless effort. As soon as it went down it shot back up, hot foul tasting liquid hitting the back of his throat. He gagged and quickly brought his hands to his mouth, fearing the worst.

The gag snapped you back into the reality of the car.

- Hyune? You okay?

He barely made eye contact with you when his stomach jolted one more time, making him gag once more. But this time, vomit gushed out, slipping through his fingers, and soiling both him and your car.

- Oh my god! Hyune!

His stomach didn't give him time to think before contracting again and sending even more pale vomit up, once again escaping through his fingers.

You were shocked with the situation unfolding before your eyes so it took a few seconds for you to react.

You quickly reached for the glove box and found a little towel you always kept with you, considering how he had gotten sick in the car before.

- Oh babe! Don't worry.

You placed it on his lap and told him to open his hands and let the vomit fall on the towel, while you drove a little more. Once you stopped again, you looked for a plastic bag inside your stuff so that Hyunjin could throw up everything making him feel bad.

- Here. Use this.

- S-sorry...I'm s-sorry...

- Don't apologize. It's not your fault you're sick.

He closed his eyes as he gagged again, this time inside the bag, liquid coming out and hitting the back making a sickening sound. You could only rub his back and mutter some words while you drove.

- Oh baby, just let everything out.

He burped another wave, followed by another one making him bend forward a little and you could feel him tensing up under your hand.

- Just get everything out.

He gagged a few times until he threw up again, vomit mixing with the liquid inside the bag. The car was starting to smell and you both wanted to get out of there.

Thankfully, the traffic jam stopped and you as fast as you legally could to get home.

Arriving there, you went straight to Hyunjin's door to help him.

- Here. Let me get rid of this.

You threw away the bag filled with vomit and turned your full attention to him, who was sitting inside the car facing you.

- We're home, baby. Let's go. Can you stand?

- I don't kno-

He was cut off by a sudden gag that sent up more vomit making him bend forward and you barely escaped from soiling your shoes. You shifted to his side and rubbed his back as he vomited again.

- Here. Rinse your mouth and let's go up. You need to take a shower.

He rinsed his mouth and you helped him up, wrapping your hands around him and carefully heading to the elevator.

Arriving home, you went directly to the bathroom with Hyunjin. You helped him out of his soiled clothes and tossed them in the dirty laundry basket.

- You don't need to stay here...

- Hyune, we've been dating for quite some time now...you don't need to be embarrassed. I just don't want to risk you fainting in the shower. But I'll turn around if that will make you feel more comfortable.

- Thank you...sorry...

- it's okay, honey.

Thankfully the shower ended without any accidents, despite him dry heaving over the rain for a brief moment.

You helped him change clothes and then got the bed ready for him to sleep.

You embraced him in a tight hug and kissed the top of his head. And that was the last straw. He started to cry and sob and buried his face in your shoulder.

- Honey? Baby? Why are you crying?

You said with a cute voice and almost crying yourself.

- I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...

- it's okay, baby! Stop apologizing.

- but...I ruined your day...you couldn't study because of me, your car is completely dirty...I'm sorry

He said breaking down even more.

- Oh baby! There's nothing to apologize for. You were sick! It's not your fault! You didn't ruin my day! Stop worrying about that! Hyune, I love you! I'd never, not once, think that you ruined my day.

You said as you cupped his face in your hands and wiped his tears away.

- promise me you'll stop feeling guilty about it.

- I- I promise...

He said pouting. You kissed him and then embraced him again as you two lay in bed.

- How are you feeling?

- Still a little nauseous...

- Wait here a little bit, let me grab a bucket just in case.

You grabbed the bucket at light speed and went back to bed. You cuddled him and started rubbing his belly. He sunk under your touch and within minutes, the poor tired boy was fast asleep.

You changed your approach and kept stroking his hair until you fell asleep as well.

The night went on without any other incidents, the poor boy had his energy completely drained after everything that happened and you couldn't be more grateful that he managed to sleep like a rock until midday.

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kelyon · 1 month

Text

Courtship 12: Rings

Miss French talks to the florist.

Read on AO3

Mr. Gold’s fiancee tread lightly on her way up to the apartment. Her new red heels hung loosely in her hand as she crept up the stairs to the kitchen. It was barely seven in the morning. With any luck, her father would have gone to bed soon after that disaster of a phone call.

Of course, Lacey didn’t have any luck. A thin strip of light from the bottom of the kitchen door sliced through the dark stairwell like an assassin’s blade.

“Shit,” she whispered.

But she persevered. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Just last night, Miss French had endured the pain Mr. Gold had meted out to her. She had reveled in it. She had climaxed from it. She could take any punishment, any torture. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by a man as weak and useless as Moe French.

She turned the knob and eased open the door, still trying to stay quiet. Just because she was brave didn’t mean she had to ask for trouble.

The TV was on. Good Morning Storybrooke blared out at top volume. Maybe she could sneak into her room until she had to come out to open the store. Maybe Dad had fallen asleep on the couch. Maybe she could convince him that the phone call that revealed her sleeping with Mr. Gold had been a bad dream.

She darted past the door to the living room and had taken three steps down the hall toward her bedroom when the TV abruptly turned off. The living room couch creaked and the whole house rumbled with Moe French’s plodding, determined footsteps.

“Do you have any explanation for your behavior?”

He didn’t shout. That was how Lacey knew she was in real trouble. His voice sounded old and tired, the crumbling stone of a ruined castle.

Biting her lip, Lacey slowly turned around. They stood at either end of the hall, facing each other. In the old West town that made up their arguments, it was high noon. Both of them had their hands on their six-shooters, neither one sure who would draw first.

She swallowed.

“I am a consenting adult,” she began evenly. “We live in a free country. I should be able to date anyone I want.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

She gave him a look. “Because I didn’t think you’d celebrate the news.” Turning, she opened the door to her bedroom and placed her shoes on the floor inside. Then she shut the door again to continue the conversation. “As a matter of fact, I thought you might be pretty pissed.”

Moe took a step forward. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when you didn’t come home?”

Lacey held up her hands. “I am sorry about that. But in my defense, I got in after midnight twice this week, and you were asleep both times.”

“Yes, because I trusted you.”

“You only trusted me because you thought I was with Hunter.”

“I thought you were responsible.”

“I am!”

“Then why are you sneaking around like a criminal?”

“Because I knew you would freak out, I already said that!”

“What the hell are you doing with a man like that?”

A bitter laugh burst out of Miss French. “Don’t ask questions when you don’t want to know the answer.”

Moe shook his head. “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe my own daughter would--would--”

“Would what, Dad? Would be interested in men? Interested in fancy dinners and nice cars? Interested in sex?”

He made a face and shook his head. Rolling her eyes, she pushed past him to get to the kitchen. He stepped back into the living room to let her go. This hallway wasn’t big enough for the both of them.

Without thinking much about it, she opened the cupboards and pulled out the supplies to make oatmeal. Mr. Gold hadn’t served dinner last night and she was fucking starving.

“I don’t understand,” Moe said as he stood in the doorway. “Why Gold?”

“They could fill a library with things you don’t understand,” Lacey muttered. She slammed the door to the fridge and dumped milk onto her oats. “I didn’t start dating Mr. Gold just to piss you off,” she said more loudly. “He asked me to Bella Notte, and I said yes.”

“And you slept with him after three dates?”

She bit her lip, didn’t answer. She carried her bowl over to the microwave and turned the dial. Then she looked at her father.

“Do you want me to lie to you?”

Glowering, Moe crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Well, then, the truth is that I slept with Mr. Gold on our first date.”

Dad’s face screwed up. “Oh, for the love of God, Lacey! I thought you were smarter than that!”

She dug her nails into her palms. “Well, obviously, I’m not! Obviously, I’m a stupid slut who wouldn’t know a bad decision if it fucked her in the ass!”

“Lacey!”

Eyes burning, she turned away from him. She stared at the microwave, watched her oatmeal bubble. Mom always made them oatmeal on cold winter mornings like this, in a big pot on the stove. It sticks to the ribs, so it’ll stay with you all day.

When the microwave beeped, she found a clear spot on the kitchen table where she could set the bowl down. Neither one of them really cooked, how did this place get so messy? She grabbed a clean spoon from the crowded dish rack and started stabbing at the oatmeal to mix in some brown sugar.

“What…” Moe began. He drifted off, then tried again. “Why would you choose to be with a man so heartless?”

Lacey sighed. Leaning against the counter by the microwave, she scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal. “Just because he asks for the rent on time doesn’t make him a monster.”

“No, it’s the fees that make him a monster. It’s the interest. It’s the contracts and the fine print. Lacey, you know this! That man has no mercy, no pity. He isn’t even human!”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and took a bite of oatmeal.

The reaction was instant. As soon as the milky goop hit her tongue she started to gag. She didn’t even taste it at first, her body just recoiled. She spat the oatmeal back into the bowl.

“What the fuck?” she shrieked. “How fucking old is that milk?”

Moe snorted. “So it finally turned, huh? You could have smelled it first to check.”

“Or you could buy groceries often enough that we don’t need to worry about things rotting in our fridge.”

“With what money?” he shot back. “Your boyfriend bleeds us drier and drier every day.”

“It doesn’t cost anything to throw things away when they go bad!”

“Then why don’t you do it? I’m trying to keep the business afloat, is it too much to ask for a little help around the house?”

“Yeah, sure! I’ll be an unpaid maid along with being an unpaid florist!”

“I pay you in food and shelter!”

Then why am I still hungry?

Without a word, Lacey scraped her bowl into the overfilled trash can. Globs of spoiled oatmeal dripped over empty boxes of TV dinners and envelopes from unpaid bills. She tried to breathe, tried to pull herself together, get herself under control.

She rinsed out her bowl in the sink and dropped it on the pile of plates and mugs. Then she took a glass and filled it with the cloudy, chemical-smelling water that poured out of their faucet. With her back to her father, she rinsed the sour-milk taste out of her mouth. She spat it out into the sink full of dirty dishes.

Only then did she turn around and talk to Moe.

“I’m gonna get some sleep before we have to open the store.”

He gave a nod. He looked as tired as she felt. “Just promise me you’ll never see him again.”

Miss French winced. “I… can’t do that.”

Moe looked up. “Lacey…”

“He asked me to marry him, Dad,” she said quietly. “And I said yes.”

He gaped at her. It probably wasn’t good for the man’s cardiovascular system for his face to go from red to white in less than five seconds.

“At least I didn’t lie to you about it?” she tried.

“Lacey.” It was barely a whisper. “Why would you do that?”

She bit her lip. “Nothing good is going to happen if we keep talking about this. We should both cool off and--”

“How long have you had that dress?” Moe jabbed an accusing finger at her walk of shame outfit. “It’s new, isn’t it? When did you get it?”

Would it be worse to lie or worse to tell the truth? “Saturday,” she said quietly. “I bought it over the weekend.”

“With what money? You haven’t done any deliveries since Christmas.”

Digging her nails into her palms, Miss French forced herself to look this florist in the eye. “Mr. Gold gave me some money so I could buy nice clothes for our dates.”

“After you slept with him?”

“Yeah.”

Moe shook his head. “Well,” he said. “I guess that answers that question.”

Slowly, he turned away. With shuffling steps, Moe French retreated to his bedroom and left his daughter standing alone.

****

It was a tense day at Game of Thorns.

By the time Lacey cleaned herself up and found some edible food, it was time to open the store. Moe stayed up in his room, which she counted as a blessing. She went through the mind-numbing routine of unlocking the front door, turning on the lights, counting out the money in the cash register. It felt good to be useful, it always had. She didn’t mind working. All she wanted was some Goddamned compensation for it.

Call-in orders came in throughout the morning. A few customers stopped by--mostly well-off married women with nothing better to do on a Monday morning. They gushed over the displays but didn’t buy anything. She didn’t begrudge them, she knew how it worked: A woman couldn’t buy Valentine’s Day flowers for herself, but she could scope out what arrangements she liked best and spend the first two weeks of February dropping hints. It happened every year. Lacey put on her best fake smile for the customers, knowing full well she’d be “surprising” them with flowers soon enough.

Around noon, she started hearing the groan and squeak of ancient floorboards as her father moved around upstairs. Her chest tightened and didn’t release until he came in from the back. Unusually for him, he didn’t have anything in his hands. He wasn’t carrying or planning or working at all. His face was a gray nonexpression, same as when they used to take Mom to her doctor’s appointments.

Dad stood for a minute, looking at her quietly. Then he asked, “Do you love him?”

Miss French burst out laughing. “Do I what?”

“Do you love him?” Moe raised his voice. “The man you say you’re going to marry. If you love him, there must be some good in him.”

Still shocked from the out-of-the-blue question, she cackled. “Oh, there is plenty of good in Mr. Gold!” Her voice sounded deep, lusty. From Mr. French’s changing color, he knew exactly what she was talking about. “But no, he doesn’t want me to love him.”

“So you don’t think he loves you?”

“Why would he?”

“If he’s going to marry you, he’d damn well better!” He pounded his fist against the countertop, rattling the shelves of vases. “Hell, even if you’re just screwing, there should be something there, some… liking.”

“I like him fine! I think he likes me too.”

“You think? Lacey, are you thinking at all?”

Miss French shut her mouth so hard her teeth hurt. “You know what?” She pushed herself off her stool by the register. “I did the morning shift, I’m gonna take my lunch now.”

“Don’t think we’re done talking about this madness!” Moe yelled after her.

“Talk all you want,” she muttered as she went up to her room. “You don’t get to decide what I do or how I feel.”

****

She changed out of her work jeans and into the red skirt from her date on Friday. Thank God she’d had the presence of mind to buy something machine washable. It was still fucking freezing outside, so she put on leggings and covered her top half in layers. She covered her long-sleeved t-shirt from work with her white button-down, then covered that with an ash-gray cable-knit sweater she had borrowed from Andrew once and never returned. Her dead cousin’s sweater hung on her like a loose smock, but Lacey didn’t mind the look. Maybe Mr. Gold would think it was cute to see her swimming in men’s clothes. For now, it was the best she could do.

When she got to the pawn shop, Mr. Gold was over by the side door. He was talking to a bald man in a black coat. The man was so tall he had to hunch under the door frame. Between them, a large piece of wooden furniture lay on its side on the ground. It took Miss French a minute to see that it was a wardrobe. The thing was lovely and old-fashioned and big enough to contain a world where it was always winter and never Christmas.

“Put it along the wall by the door,” Mr. Gold was telling the tall man. “There should be ample space on the parlor side, but if you must put it in the bedroom, that’s acceptable.”

The tall man nodded and began the process of picking up the wardrobe and getting it out the side door. The fact that he was even able to make the attempt was impressive, let alone how he made it look so easy.

Mr. Gold noticed her standing in the middle of his shop. His eyes crinkled and he licked his lips. Wordlessly, he nodded for her to come to him. Miss French happily obeyed.

“Miss French, have you ever met my gardener, Mr. Dove?” He held out a hand indicating the tall man.

The wardrobe was halfway through the door, but Mr. Dove stopped what he was doing to give her a deep nod.

“You helped deliver my hot water tank, didn’t you?”

“Mr. Dove performs many services for me,” Mr. Gold said. “And, of course, Mr. Dove, this is Miss French, my fiancee.”

The tall man nodded again, implacably stone-faced. His voice was the deepest she’d ever heard. “Congratulations, ma’am.”

As someone who worked with an often-irate public, Lacey French had been called ‘ma’am’ plenty of times. This was the first time it seemed actually respectful. This Dove person actually thought of her as ‘ma’am,’ as an adult woman, as someone worthy of marrying Mr. Gold.

Miss French smiled at Mr. Gold’s employee. The man nodded a final time and carried on with his work.

When Dove got the wardrobe outside and shut the door behind him, Mr. Gold turned to her. He looked her up and down, frowning.

“You need more money for clothes.” It wasn’t a question. He was already walking to the cash register.

“No,” Lacey said. “Well, yes, obviously, but that’s not why I’m here. You said you had things to discuss with me.”

“Indeed I do.”

He took some bills out of the register and laid them on the counter in front of her. More fifties. She took them without comment, trying to forget Dad’s accusations. Mr. Gold was going to be her husband, it was perfectly reasonable for him to give her money.

“Come here,” Mr. Gold tapped his hand on the countertop, beside where he stood. Miss French hurried to obey.

With a ring of keys, he unlocked the back of the display case and pulled out a black velvet tray. He set it in front of her, but covered the contents with his hand.

“If you ever see anything you like in the shop, just let me know.” He grinned at her. “I’ll make you pay for it, but not in money.”

Miss French giggled.

“For now,” he went on, “I want you to pick out an engagement ring.”

He pulled his hand away, revealing rows and rows of rings. Miss French licked her lips. Her breath shook. So many jewels, right at her fingertips! Emeralds and sapphires on gold and silver bands, inlaid diamonds twisting around each other, rubies and peridots and one stone she didn’t recognize that seemed to be blue and green and purple all at once.

“They’re all so beautiful,” she whispered. “How could anybody pick just one?”

Mr. Gold shrugged. “You could try wearing all of them at once, though I imagine it would impede dexterity.”

She gave a breathy laugh. Imagine it! Lacey French the unpaid florist wearing a full jewelry store on each hand!

She looked up at Mr. Gold. “Which one do you like?”

He shook his head. “I’ll give you what I want you to wear. This is your decision, my dear.”

Overwhelmed by choice, she looked for her birthstone, aquamarine. When she didn’t see any, she scanned the rows for pearls, to remind her of her mother. No dice on that front either. She was on her third or fourth pass when something finally stood out.

“Maybe that’s it,” she whispered.

“What?” Mr. Gold murmured into her hair. He had stayed by her side, standing close but never directly touching.

“These two.” She put her fingers on a pair of unadorned gold bands that were side by side in the bottom corner of the tray. “I think I need to wear one of them.”

“Awfully plain,” Mr. Gold said. “I thought you might want something more ostentatious.”

“Just because I’m from Old Town doesn’t mean I’m complete trash.”

“Yes you are.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in close to him. She gasped at the sudden delight of his touch. He nipped along her jawline and growled into her ear. “Of course you’re trashy and greedy. You want all of this, everything. You want to show off my wealth, you want to flaunt your excesses. You want to flash diamonds in the faces of everyone who ever overlooked you.”

Denial sat on Miss French’s tongue. She wasn’t like that! She didn’t care about stuff. She wasn’t vindictive or greedy or a show-off.

Or was it just that she’d never had anything to show off before? Did she only not care about possessions because she’d never had anything worth caring about? Those ladies that were in the store this morning, they wouldn’t think twice about displaying the jewelry their husbands gave them. Mr. Gold was richer than any other man in Storybrooke. His wife should flaunt his wealth.

Despite all that, the plain rings still stood out to her. For some reason she couldn’t name, they were the only real option.

“Like I said,” she tried to talk while Mr. Gold was kissing her neck. “I want to wear all of these. But I can’t wear them all at once. Plain gold will match with anything.”

“Except silver.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be Mrs. Silver, am I?” She turned around to face him. “I like the idea of always having gold on my body.”

He grinned at her and bent down for a kiss. When he was done and she could breathe again, she pulled both rings out of their slots in the velvet tray. She wasn’t sure why she needed both of them, but she had the oddest feeling that they were a matched set.

One ring was visibly smaller than the other. Miss French slid it on to the third finger of her left hand.

“Wow, it fits!” She held her hand out in front of her to admire her engagement ring. Plain as it was, it gave a new definition to her fingers. The ring changed her hand somehow. It changed her. Did every bride-to-be feel this way the first time she looked at her wedding ring? It was the simplest possible adornment, but symbolized the biggest event of Miss French’s life.

Buzzing with excitement, she took the other ring and held it in her palm for Mr. Gold.

“This one is bigger. I bet it would fit you.”

Mr. Gold cocked his head at her. “Why would I need an engagement ring?”

“Well, then, it could be a wedding ring. Lots of men wear wedding rings. And you can’t say you don’t wear jewelry.” She looked meaningfully at the large ring on his right hand. He always wore it.

Her fiance gave her a look that was half-scowl and half-grin. He snatched the ring out of her hand and slid it onto his finger.

“Hmm.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Fits perfectly.”

For a long moment, Mr. Gold stared at his hand. He flexed his fingers and seemed to be pondering.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? To wear a ring? It all feels so much more real now.”

Mr. Gold made a noncommittal noise. Then he shook his head briefly, as though to clear it from hazy thoughts. He took his normal ring off his right hand and slid it onto his left, just over the golden band. With the large pale stone, the other ring covered his wedding ring completely. No one would ever know it was there.

No one, except for him and her.

Mr. Gold cleared his throat. “How were things with your father?”

Lacey rolled her eyes, trusting that Mr. Gold would know her disdain wasn’t aimed at him. “He’s not happy, but the argument wasn’t fatal for either of us. He asked me if I loved you.”

Mr. Gold raised his eyebrows. “What did you tell him?”

“No,” she shrugged. “I’m pretty sure love is the last thing we need in this marriage.”

“Correct,” he said smoothly. “Marriage is a contract, a deal. There’s no need to let emotion interfere with judgment.”

“A deal, huh?” she gave him a grin. “Is this deal like all your others? Are you gonna screw me over?”

“Of course I am.” He wrapped his arm around her, pressed her against the back of the display case. He kissed her, dark and deep and hungry. “I’m going to screw you over every flat surface in this town. I’m going to screw you over and under and in every other direction you can think of.”

“Fuck,” Miss French gasped as Mr. Gold drew her into him.

His hand groped at her thigh, plucking at her leggings. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s cold,” she said. “I can’t be bare-skinned all the time. I’ll freeze!”

“You’ll bare yourself for me whenever I ask you to.”

“Then ask!” she laughed. “I’ll do whatever you say, you just have to say it first.”

“I’m saying it now,” he purred into her ear. “At all times, you’re going to have as little as possible covering that sweet cunt.” Reaching under her skirt, he cupped her over her leggings. His strong fingers pressed into her slit. God, he could probably feel her wetness through two layers of fabric. “This is mine.” He squeezed her. “All of you is mine. You’re not going to let anything get between me and what belongs to me. Yes?”

“Yes.” It was barely a breath.

“Good girl.” He took his hand away, stepped back enough for her to move. “Pull them down,” he ordered.

Miss French hitched her thumbs into the elastic waistband and pulled her leggings down to her knees. She did it automatically, before she could consider that the store was still open, the front door was still unlocked.

“What if someone walks in on us?”

“Then they’ll get a hell of a show.”

Mr. Gold’s hand was hot on her bare thigh. He stroked her with his palm, then raked his nails against her skin. Miss French gasped.

“That’s my pain slut,” he praised her. “That’s my lovely little deviant.”

Finally, his hand traveled up to her ass. When he felt her faded cotton underwear, he tsked. With one hand still touching her, he opened the cash register and pulled out yet another fifty.

“This one,” he said patiently, “is only for you to buy suitable undergarments. Just panties. I’ll give you more for lingerie sets later. Like I said, this cunt is mine. I want it looking nice and pretty.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.” Miss French’s cheeks burned. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would need to be so prepared. It’s not like he had told her this was a date! But he was right. She was his fiancee now. They could fuck whenever they wanted.

“Turn around,” Mr. Gold ordered. “Facing the door. Put your hands on the glass, palms down. Don’t move.”

When she got into position, he stood behind her. His left hand, the hand with his ring, crept up beneath her red skirt, and then down under her panties. In the middle of his store, in the middle of the day, he grasped the bare skin of her pussy.

Miss French stayed as he had ordered her to. She stared at the door, at the back of the sign that said “Open.” The lightbulb inside the display case made the glass warm. Her hands were sweaty, but she didn’t move them. Her engagement ring shone softly with a golden glow.

Mr. Gold’s fingers started to move. He rubbed against the cleft of her mound, roughly brushing past her clit. He dove into that secret well of wetness, into the heat he always made in her. The heat that offset any winter cold.

“Fucking slut,” he whispered. “You gorgeous whore.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He fingered her silently, briskly. Her breath came out in jerking pants, but she didn’t move. Her feet stayed where they were--spread as far apart as her bunched-up leggings would allow. She didn’t let her fingers curl on the glass, no matter how much Mr. Gold played with her. Her body pushed against the display case, leaving only enough room for his hand.

Her eyes never left the unlocked door.

“I’m not going to let you come today,” Mr. Gold breathed into her hair. “I’ve been far too indulgent with you on that point. My wife is going to have to learn some discipline.”

He grabbed her on that last word. His fingers pushed inside her, the heel of his palm forced a bruising pressure on her clit.

She started to shake. Was that pleasure or pain? It didn’t matter with her, she could come from either. God, she really was no better than an animal in heat. God, she was disgusting. She was such a stupid slut.

Miss French’s teeth ground together as she tried to keep herself from coming. Her hands tried to grip at the smooth glass, but there was nothing to grab onto. Nothing to hold her together while Mr. Gold was pulling her apart.

“S-S-S-S--” she shook. “S-stop! Please! If you don’t want me to come then stop!”

“You stop,” he growled. His fingers moved all the faster. “If you want to please me then you stop.”

Gasping and shaking, Miss French tried to let go. She tried to distance herself from her body, from the pleasure that Mr. Gold was so good at creating in her. She tried to float.

It was like last night--God, was that only last night?--when he had flogged her. The pain had been too much, but she wouldn’t disappoint him by making him stop. She had solved that problem with an orgasm. Now she had to solve this problem some other way. She had to find some inner strength. Last night she had let pain pass through her. She could do the same with pleasure, even while he was working his magic.

Slowly, Miss French straightened up. She took deep breaths, trying not to shudder. She willed her heartbeat to slow down. Mr. Gold kept up his movements, but even they had become slower, calmer. He knew--he could feel--that the crisis in her body had passed. This time, at least, she had been able to stop herself.

They stood like that for a moment, her back to his front. They breathed together, deep and slow.

“Good girl.” Mr. Gold placed a kiss on her cheek.

Miss French didn’t let herself react. Somehow, she felt just as dazed and exhausted as she would if she had come a dozen times in a row.

After a final squeeze, Mr. Gold extracted himself. He took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and began to wipe her wetness off his hands.

“It is a lovely cunt,” he said offhandedly. “A pleasant thing to have at my disposal.”

Miss French breathed a chuckle. Her hands were still splayed out on the countertop. She stared, unseeing, at the front door until Mr. Gold moved her chin to make her look at him.

“You’re not going to play with it,” he said calmly. “Until you see me again.”

Slowly, Miss French blinked. “What?”

“Your cunt,” he explained. “Your whole body, actually. I don’t want you touching it without me.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Okay.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“Yes what? Say it out loud.”

“Yes, Mr. Gold, I won’t touch myself until I see you again.”

“And you’re never going to come without permission, are you?”

“No, Mr. Gold.”

She made the promises automatically, said the words like they were something she had memorized, like the Pledge of Allegiance. These were her pledges to Mr. Gold. Only unlike when she had recited the Pledge of Allegiance in school, Miss French actually gave a fuck about what she was saying to Mr. Gold. She would do what he said, of course she would. He made the rules for these games. She had to follow them if she wanted to keep playing.

“Get yourself in order,” Mr. Gold said, not unkindly. “I can’t release you back into the world looking like such a fuckstruck mess.”

Miss French gave him a smile that was loose, almost sleepy. Fuckstruck, that was the word alright.

“You’re right, Mr. Gold,” she breathed. She began to pull up her leggings, made sure her skirt wasn’t caught in anything. “Thank you.”

“For teasing you?”

“For teaching me,” she said. “Every time I’m with you, I learn something new.”

He snorted. “You certainly have lots of room for improvement.” He walked with her to the front door. “Are you going back to the flower shop?”

“I think I should, just to prove that I’m still useful. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason my father didn’t kick me out altogether--with Valentine’s Day coming up, he needs me to work.”

“Well, I hope he can spare you on the twelfth.”

“The twelfth?”

“Of February. Saturday after next. I thought it would be a good day for our wedding.”

“What, in two weeks?” Lacey gaped at Mr. Gold.

“One week and five days, yes.”

“I thought engagements were supposed to be longer,” she said. “Don’t weddings take a long time to plan?”

“Not if you have money and connections and a determined will--all of which I have in abundance. I’ve booked Dodici’s Dance Hall. They’ll do the catering and decorations as well.”

She had to chuckle. Even Mr. Gold couldn’t change the fact that every reception in Storybrooke was held at one of two places.

“You didn’t want to rent the social hall at St. Meissa?”

Mr. Gold frowned at the mention of the local convent. “No,” he said. “And if you always dreamed of a church wedding, then I’m afraid you must accept disappointment, my dear.”

Miss French shook her head. “It doesn’t matter to me. The only thing I care about is that we don’t have real flowers.”

“You don’t want to give your father the business?”

“I don’t want to give him a hernia!” She smiled, but it didn’t last long. “Besides, there’s nothing worse than making a flower arrangement for your own function. At my mom’s funeral--you’d think people would know better, but…”

“I see,” Mr. Gold said smoothly. “Very well, no flowers.” He held open the door for her, letting an icy blast of wind into the shop. “We’ll talk more as decisions are made. Feel free to come to me whenever you need money.” He bent down to kiss her cheek and whispered, “Or whenever you need me to make you come until you cry.”

Miss French turned around to say something, but he had already shut the door behind her.

#courtship #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #golden lace #golden lace fic

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literaticat · 4 months

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Hello. I know an older person (a relative) who is a very good illustrator (as a hobby). They do have an email address but don't have a website (yet anyway). I'm encouraging them to draw maybe half a dozen or a dozen illustrations so I could submit them to some publishers on their behalf (those who are looking for or open to illustration submissions). Some of these sites mention having a website, others don't. Would the person have to be a professional illustrator or would this be okay? And would it be better for me to see if I can teach them to draw on an iPad or could I just scan on their handdrawn illustrations and email them for them? They're open to the idea but don't think they're good enough. I think they have a lot of natural raw talent, just wondering would publishers be open to illustrations from an older person who is very green to this and has no experience. What do you think? And could you give me/them any other advice? Thank you so much. Happy New Year!

I'd strongly suggest you not do this. I know you have the very best of intentions, and it's lovely that you're such a cheerleader for your relative. I'm sure they are very talented. BUT. Start by finding out what their goals really are. There are plenty of other ways for them to get their work out there. Maybe there are local art classes, where they can explore different mediums and just have fun and meet other artists and potential mentors. Art contests, or local magazines or journals that might publish work from local artists. If they really want to start a little cottage artwork business from home maybe they can create beautiful cards or prints that can be stocked at a local shop or something like that, and you can help them print them out and be their 'sales rep' if you like. Investigate these types of outlets for your relative's creativity, there's no need for their fun and pleasant hobby to become a difficult, demanding career, unless that is something they are TRULY passionate about.

(Not everything needs to be monetized. Normalize just doing things because you like them!)

Because yeah - - you can't really "dabble" in professional book illustration. Either you are a professional illustrator, which means publishers might hire you -- or you aren't, which means they definitely will not. Now, you can be a NEW professional illustrator, that's a thing, people aren't born as professionals -- so, again, if that's really something that your relative WANTS TO DO, truly wants it, OK -- but they are gonna have to do the legwork. You can't be submitting work on their behalf or holding their hand the whole time. Age is not a factor, but professional illustrator is a real job, not a fun-time hobby, and they do have to be willing and able to do the work themselves.

So if becoming a professional children's book illustrator is truly of interest to them, I'd suggest they start by:

-- Taking some picture book illustration classes, whether online or in-person -- specifically those, not just general "art" or whatever. The rules and goals of book illustration are just different from other kinds of art! This is not, strictly speaking, necessary, some artists are indeed entirely self-taught -- but it would probably be QUITE helpful to make them feel more confident (or alternatively, help them realize that this is not where their talent wants to take them!). COST VARIES.

-- They should also read a lot (A LOT) of modern children's books to see what the level of work is that they'd need to be doing, and different ways to tell a story through art. Because it's not just about having pretty images -- that's great, but they have to be able to *tell a story* through the pictures, also, otherwise they have just created random images, not a book. Start with the books that have been Caldecott medalist and honor winners for the past 5 years, they should all be available at your local library. FREE FROM LIBRARY.

-- I'd strongly recommend getting and studying a used or library copy of WRITING WITH PICTURES by Uri Shulevitz. While there is one section that is quite dated (because PB illus are typically delivered digitally now, and this book is from before the digital days) -- the majority of the book, about the actual craft of telling a story through pictures, is super-informative and brilliant. FREE FROM LIBRARY OR UNDER $10. USD

-- Consider joining the SCBWI; it does cost money to be a full member, but if they are serious, it may be worth it -- there are loads of resources online and in person, conferences, local meetups, workshops, etc, where they can connect with other creators and professionals to research and learn the ropes of children's book publishing; there's also a forum where they can ask questions, etc. $99. USD

-- Alternatively (or in addition), there are also kids-book oriented Facebook groups for this kind of thing that have seasoned pros answering newbie questions -- KIDLIT411 would be a smart one to join, if your relative is on Facebook. (Kidlit411 also has a website with resources!) FREE.

Once they have done all these things, they will need a professional-looking digital portfolio -- these can be physical works that are scanned in, or works created digitally (or a combo -- physical works that the artist tweaks layers in photoshop, etc). There are other posts here about what should be included in such a portfolio, look in the FAQ. This way they aren't just sending publishers random images all loosey-goosey, they'll be presenting themselves as somebody that might actually get hired. But I really wouldn't bother with this part until/unless they've done most or all of the previous suggestions.

#how to become a professional illustrator #illustration 101

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darknight3904 · 6 months

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Bilgesnipe and Green Dresses

Masterlist to This Love / Main Masterlist

Asgard 1013 A.D (Thor 19, Loki 19, Astri 17)

"Do you truly never wonder what he's doing?" Loki asked suddenly

Astri had been reading quietly for hours with Loki by her side in the castle's library. The sun had been streaming in perfectly and warmed her body which had taken a slight chill from sitting down for so long.

"Who are you speaking about?" She asked not glancing at her companion

"Your father, You know he sits in our dungeons yet you've never visited him." Loki replied

"What would I say? Hello father it's me your daughter whose mother you killed." Astri huffed while Loki slowly acknowledged her words.

Before either could speak again on the matter, a loud voice filled the once peaceful library.

"I knew I'd find you both here!" Thor's loud voice said

"What do you want, brother?" Loki asked, clearly annoyed with Thor's presence in their shared space.

"We are off to hunt Bilgesnipe and I thought you'd both care to join us." Thor smiled

Astri's face scrunched up at the thought of the disgusting creatures. Their large horns and slobber weren't something she wanted to deal with today.

"And may I ask why we need to hunt them?" Loki asked

"They have been trampling some of the homes of our dear citizens who are further from the castle," Thor said

Loki nodded before turning to Astri who was hoping he'd just stay and read with her.

"Are you joining us?" he asked

Astri weighed her options. While reading was more appealing, the last time Thor had gone hunting he was thrown into a pile of horse dung by his prey. So if something like that were to happen again, she'd want to witness it with her own eyes.

"I'll join." She said standing up

"Wonderful. We can use your magic especially since you're better than Loki is." Thor grinned as he motioned for them to follow him.

"Hey." Loki scolded

While Thor's words had been rude, there was truth behind them. Astri had been able to pick up on Frigga's magic lessons better than Loki had over the years. The result was her being able to simply have stronger powers overall compared to Loki. Of course that didn't matter at times since Loki was in all ways superior to her in terms of physical fighting.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The hunt was rather uneventful. While they were able to catch and kill multiple Bilgesnipe, Thor remained free of feces which bothered Astri. It's not that she was rooting for his downfall, she just thought it was rather funny to see Thor in undesirable positions. For example, the time he had been seeing two women at the same time without the other knowing. Then, a feast occurred, they found out and then proceeded to exact their revenge by removing one of his eyebrows from his face. It had taken nearly a year for it to grow back normally.

"You know, I was hoping he'd fall into horse dung again." Loki interrupted her thoughts

"So was I. Do you think it's too late to try to resurrect one of those monsters so they can try eating him?" She grinned

"Astri! I think I might be rubbing off on you after all these years." Loki laughed

"What're you two love birds plotting over here?" Volstagg asked bringing his horse rather close to Astri's

"If you're asking about love birds, you must be referring to my brother and Hogun, just look at them up there." Loki smiled deflecting Volstagg's taunts

Astri glanced further up the path to see Hogun and Thor simply riding and talking, clearly as just friends.

"They're clearly in loooove!" Astri sang as she motioned her horse into a faster trot as Loki quickly followed

Volstagg's boisterous laughter practically echoed through the forest as Loki followed Astri.

"Do you think he'll ever stop trying to set us up?" she asked

"Probably not," Loki replied

"Ah well, in that case....race you back!" Astri yelled as she quickly moved her horse into a gallop.

Loki let out a string of curses before quickly setting off after the brown-haired girl who was rapidly gaining speed.

"You'll never win Loki!" She sang as the castle quickly came into view.

Now, Astri might've had stronger magic than him, but Loki's mind was most definitely sharper than his female friends. A quick calculation and a fast flick of his wrist a tree branch had been strategically created to sweep the girl off her horse. Loki laughed as she fell from her mare named Moondancer.

For a moment Astri thought she had gotten a good lead on Loki the magical horse whisperer. Of course, she was wrong and before she knew it she was on the ground while Loki looked down at her from his mount, his musical-sounding laugh filling her ears.

"You've been trying to beat me in horse racing since we were children. Aren't the hundreds of defeats enough for you yet?" He asked dismounting and offering her help to her feet.

"I will one day win a horse race against you. Even if we're all old with white hair and missing teeth." She said taking his hand

How cute, she plans on being with me until we're old, Loki thought to himself as he watched Astri call her horse back.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Asgard 1040 A.D (Thor 22, Loki 22, Astri 20)

"Are you excited for tonight, my Lady?" Her handmaid, Drifa asked as she began fretting with Astri's hair.

"I am. I do hope Thor doesn't get too drunk again though. Last time he nearly fell off that balcony." Astri replied, smiling at the memory. Today marked another anniversary of Frigga and Odin's marriage and to celebrate, Asgard threw a huge party that lasted through the night.

"Do you have any hopes for Loki?" Drifa asked suddenly

"What do you mean?" She asked as she fixed her bracelets on her wrists

"The past few weeks you've been speaking of him quite a bit. Just yesterday you were telling me about how you liked his hair. And then last week you spoke of how you took a long secluded stroll through the gardens." Drifa said "And while it may be unintentional, this dress is practically made with his eye in mind."

"Loki and I have been doing things like that since we were allowed to run around without guards. Plus I always like everyone's hair. I especially like my own actually.As for the dress, can't a girl wear green without hidden meaning?" Astri replied

"Of course my Lady. I just thought since the two of you were getting older, your dynamics had changed." Drifa said smiling

"What do you mean?" She asked reaching for the glass of wine that sat on her vanity.

"Ah well...forgive me if it isn't my place...But I presumed that since you are both of marrying age, you were courting each other as prospective lovers." Drifa said casually

Astri nearly choked on her wine as Drifa put the finishing touches on her hair.

"Ah, we are done. Even if you're not looking for Loki's attention tonight, you will certainly catch the eye of many." Drifa smiled before scurrying out the door, leaving Astri alone once more.

How ridiculous! She and Loki courting for marriage. They were still very young yet, plus she would probably rather die than marry him. Loki had that strange habit of his nose wheezing when he slept. Not to mention how he'd become rather flatulent after consuming too much ale. Who would want to marry that? Not her. Imagine having a celebration and then going to bed in a sour-smelling room because your husband had too much ale. A loud knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. She quickly jumped to her feet and smoothed out her dress before pulling the door open to reveal Loki.

"Mother sent me to escort you to the festivities." Loki smiled

"Really? I could have sworn I overheard you telling Thor earlier that you wanted the honor of escorting me tonight." Astri smirked knowing that she was right and that she had caught the trickster in another one of his many lies.

"Eavesdropping is rude." Loki rolled his eyes before pausing to take in her appearance.

"Is it too much? I thought the necklace was rather gaudy but Drifa said it looked nice." Astri asked as she fiddled with the golden chain on her neck.

"Not at all...You, Astri... look absolutely divine." Loki said softly as he offered her his arm.

There will be a double update tomorrow so stay tuned :) I am going to be making a tag list for this story. If you would like to join please comment below or just message me directly.

#loki #loki x reader #mcu #avengers #loki series #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki season 2 #mobius #thor #thor the dark world #thor odinson #thor ragnarok #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #fanfic

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