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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Not One of Many - Chapter Seventeen.

A huge thank you as ever to my wonderful audience for your continued interest in Beth and Alfie’s story :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,300

Warnings - 18+ content, adult audience only. Minors DNI!

“Food’ll be here in twenty minutes, baby beast.”

“Okay, boo.”

Just three weeks in and already, they had adopted sweet little pet names for one another.

“That means you have twenty minutes before I’m pinching your laptop, Beth.”

Her fingers hit the keys faster. “Okay!”

“I bloody mean it; you work too hard.”

She snorted. “Pots and kettles, Alfie.”

“Yeah, but he’s the difference. It’s 9.23pm and I’ve actually stopped. You ain’t come up for air since we took Cyril for a walk earlier, and you’ve been at it since 6am!”

“I know, I know, but I’m on a roll here and I do have to submit this by Friday, as well as two others by Thursday. Now shush!”

“Ooooh, she’s bossy tonight, Cyril.” Looking down at his dog where he lay at Beth’s feet, Alfie shook his head, going to the counter and opening a bottle of Merlot he’d brought in from the wine cellar just to the side of his house, pouring out a glass for her. “Eighteen and a half minutes now.” Passing her wine over, he grinned, Beth bobbing her tongue out at him.

“Love you.”

“You’d bloody better!” Leaving her to it, he went to the fridge and deposited some ice cubes from the dispenser into his glass, topping it up with a liberal pour of San Pellegrino, standing at the island to read the paper while waiting for their dinner to arrive. He found it quite surreal still, that there she was, sitting happily working away. Even more so that he had a woman in his home who took her career as seriously as he did his.

That wasn’t a slur on his past girlfriends, who quite speedily after moving in with him had become ladies of leisure. Why work when he didn’t allow them to spend a single pound of their own earnings? He still didn’t with Beth, something she fought against him endlessly about (including a scene in a pub they’d gone to the previous Sunday while walking Cyril, her screaming ‘let me buy you the bloody Guinness!’ while slapping her card against the terminal to pay) but still, her career mattered so very much to her. He knew she wouldn’t give it up just because she was dating a man whom was a millionaire many hundreds of times over.

It was just one of many things he admired about his girlfriend.

His girlfriend. His girlfriend. Singular. Just one. And he couldn’t be happier. He realised now, being in such a wonderful relationship, to someone he was so well suited, that the approach he’d taken before had been so flawed, attempting to find everything he was looking for in one woman not workout out, so choosing those qualities in multiple women. Also, he couldn’t lie. It bolstered his image, but when he thought on it, he had to quietly wonder if it somewhat ridiculed it as well?

He'd been the talk of London with his outlandish love life, but he did sometimes conclude that such talk mightn’t always have been to his merit. Because of their busy periods with work, he hadn’t even taken Beth out on a first date properly yet, but such would change the following evening, spoiling her with dinner at 34 Mayfair, an extremely exclusive eatery before moving onto a bar so she could meet with Steve and Marcus, two of his closest friends.

“I can see the little dot moving closer and closer to this house, estimated time of arrival three minutes. Tap faster!” he teased, Beth managing to get her final thoughts down before saving her draft and switching off her laptop with two minutes to spare.

Moving to the island, she draped her arms around his neck. “What do I get for being good?”

He nuzzled her neck, laughing dirtily. “You’ll see, later.”

“Mmmm, fabulous.” She purred, kissing him with heat and longing, their exchange of tongues only disturbed by the buzzer sounding for the front gate. “I’ll go, you get the plates out.”

“Eye, eye, duchess.” He gave her a playful salute and a quick slap on the bum as she turned to exit, grinning when she looked back over her shoulder with a smouldering pout. “God, I love the hell out of that girl.”

Once their Chinese delicacies had been plated up, they went up to the cinema room, watching the next episode of a Netflix documentary they’d begun earlier in the week.

“Do you think it’s something they’re born with, or something that’s determined by how they’re raised? I’ve always considered it a bit of both, a fragile psyche that becomes further damaged by their formative years and the horrors they experienced. Because they all have fuckin’ terrible upbringings, don’t they? Then again, though, I reason that while evil can be both born and brought about, it takes some degree of conscious reasoning to act upon what manifests. Not everyone with mental issues and a childhood steeped in abuse goes off their rocker,” Alfie spoke after pausing the episode.

“I absolutely agree with that. I think it’s a fascinating study, into the tipping point for these people, why they slip so far away from any reasonable semblance of humanity and act in such a heinous, depraved manner.”

Intelligent, thoughtful discussion. It was something he’d lacked in recent years, but had in abundance with Beth. They sat and conversed over it for a little while before pressing play again, Beth cuddling up against him, Alfie wrapping an arm around her and kissing her head. They were the very picture of contentment. Their relationship only continued to get better, too.

Beth arrived at his house the following late afternoon after a morning of meetings and research, a quick bite to eat with Oliver and an afternoon of hard slog over her laptop back at her flat, finding a note for her on the kitchen island.

‘Baby beast,

I got called to another meeting, so I won’t be back until just gone half six. I know you were having a panic because you couldn’t decide what to wear tonight, so go upstairs and hopefully, you’ll like what you find.

Love you millions, darlin’!’

She smiled, placing her bag down and heading up a couple of floors to his bedroom, entering to find a dress bag and a shoe box placed upon the bed, with a bunch of white roses beside them, her favourite flowers. “Alfie!” she cooed softly, unzipping the bag and pulling out the most gorgeous, black cross fronted dress, the label denoting it to be a Donna Karan creation. “Oh my god, you did not, Alfie Solomons!” she exclaimed, lifting it up and moving over to the large mirror at the side of the walk-in wardrobe, holding it against herself. It was stunning.

Delighted, she placed it down carefully, moving to the shoe box next. “Oh my fucking god, boo!” she screamed, pulling out a pair of dark red Manolo Blahnik Hangisi shoes, a perfect match for her little red satin clutch bag she’d intended to use that night, a vintage Kate Spade find on Vestiaire Collective in pristine condition. He was so observant, Beth only mentioning once in passing that she’d use that Friday night’s outing for her new bag, or as she coined it, give it its maiden voyage. He’d remembered, and bought the shoes to match.

Within the tissue paper, her fingertips found another note written on the same white card the one in the kitchen had been penned upon, pulling it out and reading.

‘It also occurred to me that I never got you a congratulations present for your article in The Times. It’s waiting for you in the walk-in.’

Curious, she went over to the door and let herself in, her hand flying to her mouth when there, upon the centre counter where he kept all of his accessories (and Amira had previously stored hers) was a very specific orange box. An orange box from Hermes.

“You have not, you have not, oh my bloody Jesus bloody sodding Christ, you have!” She squealed after undoing the ribbon and sliding the lid off, revealing the contents. There it was, what she’d longed for, a dark blue Birkin bag. “No!! Oh my god! Oh my fucking god!!” she cried, absolutely bowled over. She didn’t even know what to do, picking the bag up, putting it down, jumping around upon the carpeted floor, having to have a little sit, getting back up again and squealing a little more, staggered by such generosity. That bag had cost twenty thousand pounds. Twenty thousand!

“So, you like it, then?”

She nearly died of fright to hear his voice suddenly sound behind her, yelping in surprise as she turned around.

“What happened to you not being home until half six?”

He shrugged, grinning. “Might have lied, just so I could see your reaction. So, do you like it?”

Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “Like it? Like it? Alfie, I bloody love it so much, I nearly passed out, seeing it there! Thank you, so, so, so, so much!”

He hugged her, kissing her forehead, touched at how thrilled she was. “You’re welcome, my darlin’.”

“Seriously, though, I do appreciate it so much, because that, the shoes and dress – which I love too, and thank you for those as well – It must have cost a bloody fortune! I can’t believe you spent so much money on me!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “My sweetheart, you wanna know how much it used to cost me in shopping sprees when I had three girlfriends? Anything from fifty to a hundred grand a week. They were fuckin’ ferocious spenders, but I can afford it. Spending what I did on you for that little lot ain’t even skimming the bloody surface, though, so don’t stress, right?”

Her eyes bulged at the amount he revealed. Just how much did her boyfriend earn a week in order for such spending to have not been an issue for him, financially? She shuddered to think, but would never ask. It wasn’t her business to know. “Blimey! And okay, I shall not stress.”

“Good, because I intend on spoiling you rotten. Now, I’m gonna go get in the shower. I can’t say I wouldn’t be welcoming to company.”

Her clothes were off in a flash, undressing him with the very same gusto she’d used upon the tissue paper concealing her beautiful gifts, their kisses magmatic as they staggered towards the ensuite, entwined and hot for each other within moments. Under the water, their kisses grew in hunger, Beth pushing him back against the tiles as she sank down to crouch before him, working his cock with her hand while trailing soft, fluttery kisses across his abs, her tongue tracing the outlines of his stomach tattoo, squeezing and releasing on his shaft until he was like rock within her grip, her tongue moving to trail over the head of such steely hardness.

He grunted quietly, a groan fluttering over his full lips as his head thudded back against the tiles, hands coming to rest either side of her head as he looked down to watch his cock vanishing into her mouth. She hummed contentedly, her tongue pressing against the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, her hand still working at the base of him. She never tired of his thickness, how he pulsed against her when she stimulated him, strong twitches coupled with low rumbles of desire, his thighs tensing.

“You look so pretty, with a big, fat cock in your mouth.”

She hummed again, releasing him with a pop, kissing the tip of his hardness. “I look prettier when you’re stretching out my other holes with it more.”

He chuckled, thumb stroking her cheek lovingly, Beth widening her mouth once more to take him back again as far as she could. His insides burned as he felt the back of her throat relax, her lips tight, dragging on him, her hand still pulsing around him, her other tickling his balls with a soft claw of her nails, which she’d changed to a stiletto manicure, because of his love of being scratched. This was why he lovingly referred to her as baby beast, since she got off on marking him up just as much as he did her lustful inflictions of nails and teeth. His chest still bore bite marks and purple welts from two days previously.

“I shall come back to sucking this gigantic, perfect cock a little more later, but for now there’s only one place I want you.” Her purred words, coupled with a glance of smoking allure made his heart thunder, Beth slowly licking her way back up his chest before she turned around, folding at the waist with her legs spread wide, her hands curling around to clutch her ankles. She squeaked when he smacked her bum, the sound echoing through the bathroom, breathing a soft gasp when she then felt him plunge into her.

He filled her wholly, cutting through her slick heat slowly as his hands rested on the rounded fullness of her peachy bum, squeezing the cheeks as he groaned. She thought she’d get slammed into so hard, she’d near be propelled through the glass screen, but he surprised her by keeping the pace slow, almost retreating from her entirely and teasing her opening with the thick head of his hardness before sliding back in.

He filled an emptied her slowly, knowing he was driving her crazy from her low moans, Beth virtually growling with pleasure, her cunt fluttering around him wildly. Surely, after only thirty seconds, she wasn’t about to…

“Oh god, oh, fuck!” she gritted, her hips juddering wildly as she panted and giggled, gasping ‘no fucking way!’ as her head spun from the quickest orgasm she’d ever had in her life.

“Blimey, that was fast! Was that the Birkin effect?”

“Well, I nearly came on the spot when I saw it, boo.” she chuckled, biting her lip, her post-orgasmic tingles sweeping through her with a pleasant ebbing.

“I might have to buy you one in every colour, then.” She was only half sure he was joking with that statement, too. What she cared about more in that moment though was not the fanciest luxury bags money could buy, but the big, hard cock spearing into her, the pace gaining momentum as he began smacking her bum in time with each deeply daggering thrust.

She came twice more and then received hot, spurted load all over her neck and tits before he let her out again. There was something about soaking wet Alfie. He was very, very filthy. Sexy as hell, also. An hour later and they were just about ready, well, Alfie was, Beth having a stress at her curling iron as she added large waves to her hair, wishing she had her much simpler to use hot brush with her.

“You look fuckin’ stunning, love.” He told her when she arrived with him downstairs, taking her hand and kissing it. They walked out to his car, Alfie deciding on the Lamborghini that evening, opening the doors and turning to see the bemusing sight of Beth, looking like she was doing some kind of dance. His eyebrow twitch questioned it, watching as she started to giggle.

“Got ants in your pants?”

“No, I’m not wearing underwear. This dress is too tight.”

“And that little piece of info is gonna be burning up my bleedin’ brain all damned night now, you little minx,” he chuckled. “Seriously, though. What’s with the jiggin’ about?”

“Scuffing my shoes up a little, because they’re slippy and I’ll inevitably go flying. I have all the grace of an elephant in clogs sometimes.”

His lips curled into a smile. “It had been noted.”

“You’re not supposed to agree!”

He snorted with laughter, getting into the car. “But darlin’, it’s true. Remember when you went flying over your own feet in the park?”

She pouted, the embarrassment of the moment hitting her again, there dog walking with her very brand-new boyfriend, trying to look cool and effortlessly chic before thud. Down she went. “Hush!”

He laughed, pressing the gate fob after starting the engine, turning out of his driveway and zooming off. “I love you so bloody much, even at your clumsiest.” That night, though, she was a picture of graceful poise and elegance, Alfie immensely proud to have her on his arm. Being a regular at 34 Mayfair, he did notice that a few of the staff he knew on a first name basis looked on a little curiously, seeing him there with just one girl.

“Welcome, Mr Solomons. Are your other ladies not joining you tonight, sir?” the waiter who seated them actually asked courteously.

“No, Lloyd, there is but one lady now. May I start with a soda water and a bottle of the 2017 Cabernet Sauvignon, please?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“So, tell me all about your morning meetings, love.” Turning his attention to her, he ignored all of the curious stares he was receiving, his focus on Beth entirely. People could speculate all they wanted; one wonderful woman was all he needed now.

They detailed their working days to one another over their dinner, both learning of the respective progress they’d made with their current endeavours, Beth revealing the headway she’d made in her research over her next article, this literary venture covering women now living with the consequences of botched plastic surgery in the quest to fit societal standards where beauty was concerned.

Once they’d finished, Alfie whisked them across town to Red Lounge, a swanky bar he owned in Knightsbridge, Steve and Marcus already present in the VIP section.

“So then, lads. This is Beth. Beth, Steve and Marcus.”

Steve rose from his seat, offering his hand and a kiss to her cheek. “Ahh, a pleasure! So, you go from the woman who wrote about how scandalous our boy here is, to his one and only. I have to admire such tenacious subjugation!”

“Well, someone had to tame the beast eventually, didn’t they?” Marcus chuckled, offering Beth the same warm welcome. “Hello, love. Nice to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you both, too. I’ve heard much about you.” Sitting down, a member of the bar staff was over like a shot as soon as she saw her boss take a seat, shaking a few more hands with business associates and acquaintances in the coveted, roped off section, taking their drinks orders.

While she was chatting to the men, enjoying some pleasant banter over her article, Beth felt Alfie stiffen considerably at her side, his grip upon her hand strengthening for a second. She excused herself from the conversation politely, turning to him. “Are you okay, boo?”

“Well, I was. Until I noticed Talia standing over by the fuckin’ bar.” Following his line of vision, she looked over to where there was a large display of huge terrariums filled with mosses and flowers, the redheaded ex standing there with a couple of girls, shooting daggers right at Beth.

“If looks could kill, I think I’d have tumbled into a coffin about five seconds ago,” she joked, Alfie laughing quietly. “I hope she isn’t intent on causing trouble.”

He sniffed, turning to her. “She won’t get very far if she does, flower.” He gave her a kiss, the conversation continuing, Alfie raising his eyebrows in defiance at his ex when he received a dark glare.

He shook his head, feeling quite sorry for her. Turning back to Beth, he had to wonder what the hell he’d seen in her in the first place. Stroppy, attention seeking, unsecure, chronic spender that she was. Yes. He was definitely in a better place with Beth in his life rather than her.

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 2: Breeding Kink

Day 2 of Kinktober and… I got carried away with this one. The others are not going to be nearly as long as this one, so you guys are gonna be spoiled with this. I hope you enjoy it! Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Some warnings for violence and blood mentioned, though nothing too graphic. PinV sex, unprotected, consensual, nonhuman character, exophilia, slight hint of biting kink

Tags: Dilf!werewolf x reader, exophilia, kinktober

Moonlight Through Colored Leaves

When you’d first moved to the tiny Irish town in the middle of nowhere, you’d originally hoped to escape the family drama that haunted you back in America. Thanks to your grandfather’s Irish immigration, you’d been able to get an Irish citizenship and move relatively easily. So, you’d packed your bags, only told your grandfather where you were going, and boarded the first flight to Ireland you could catch.

You’d quietly made your way to your grandfather’s tiny hometown far out in the countryside, and moved into the long-since abandoned house that had belonged to your ancestors before. Though it had been run down and you’d had to do some major repairs and cleaning, you’d finally made a cozy cottage on the outskirts of the small village-like town.

The town had been quite welcoming and friendly, and you’d quickly found a job working at the local town pub as a waitress. Your boss had been very welcoming, and you’d earned favor from your coworkers and boss for your hard work and quiet, unassuming diligence. The pay was good, and you found yourself growing comfortable in the sleepy town life, meeting your neighbors and getting familiar with the town dynamics.

You’d just gone in for your shift of the day when conversation caught your ear. You put on your waitress apron, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and walking out to the bar to grab your tray.

“Did you hear about the news?” Jaina asked, arms propped on the countertop. “I mean, about that Romanian vamp that landed on Scotland the other day. Word is that he’s headed this way.”

“Well why would it want teh come here?” Sean snorted. “We’re out in teh middle o’ nowhere, Janie, t’ere ain’t not’in’ here t’at it would want.”

“Well didn’t you hear that apparently they’re expecting Agent Blue to be chasing it down with the Dullahan?” Jaina hissed. “Why wouldn’t they come over here?”

You hid your discreet grimace, instead walking out in front of the bar. To your delight and surprise, you found yourself facing a familiar little figure sitting at the bar in a corner. The little girl caught sight of you and squealed, waving.

You went over to her giving her a hug. “Well hello there, Miss Morrigan,” you greeted cheerfully. “How are you this fine evening? Having a drink?” you teased, noticing the glass of juice near her notebook.

She giggled, nodding. “Yeah! I’m with Daddy today,” she answered, feet kicking against the bar. She turned her head to see the bartender approaching. “Daddy!” she said excitedly. “Look, it’s the nice neighbor lady I told you about!”

You looked up to see Lysander Sullivan standing there, polishing a glass with a cloth. He gazed down at his daughter with a fond look deep in his eyes, then turned to look at you, his ice blue eyes meeting yours.

“Is that so?” he asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the relatively quiet bar. It hadn’t gotten to heavy traffic times, so there weren’t many people around yet. His grey-flecked hair had been swept back into an elastic band, and his beard had been neatly trimmed.

You gave him a small, shy smile, a little embarrassed. Though you knew that the man lived next to your property, you’d been a bit timid about approaching him. He was a kind enough gentleman from everything you’d seen and heard, and he’d watched out for you as you worked, but you didn’t see any reason why he’d be interested in any further contact with you. After all, you were a younger woman in your mid-twenties that lived alone.

“Yeah! She helps me with homework sometimes,” Morrigan prattled on, “and she lets me water her flowers!”

You laughed a little, feeling the color splash across your cheeks. “Well, I certainly enjoy the little Queen’s company,” you admitted. You’d heard some of the other workers gossip about Lysander, saying that he was a single father to nine-year-old Morrigan and that her mother had died in a tragic accident. You didn’t really know, and you’d tried not to pry or overhear too much. The man had a right to privacy, just like you had things you were running from as well.

“Thank you for looking out for the little cub,” Lysander said, a small smile crossing his face. He mellowed out around his daughter, his love clear in how he interacted with her.

“Of course. It’s a delight,” you said, smiling at Morrigan. “She’s a smart little cookie, aren’t you, Queenie?” you asked, tugging at her pigtail teasingly.

She giggled. “Yeah!” Then she tilted her head at you. “Are you working with Daddy tonight?” she asked curiously.

“O-oh, well, sort of,” you stammered, taken aback a little. “He works behind the counter, but I serve people out there,” you said, motioning to the tables. “So I guess we do, in a way.”

Morrigan nodded sagely. “Ohhh, so you do the food and Daddy does the drinks.” She nodded, satisfied at her conclusion. “Oh, I’m making a drawing! I want you to see it later, when I’m finished,” she said, tugging at your sleeve.

You smiled. “Of course, Queenie. You just let me know and I’ll pop by when I have a moment, alright?” you promised.

She nodded, turning back to her notebook and picking up her crayons again. Tongue poked out, she diligently returned to her masterpiece. You gave her a fond smile, noting the way the soft lights made a halo in her blonde hair.

“She’s such an angel,” you murmured, grabbing some straws from the bar to stick into your pocket.

“Aye, that she is.” Lysander’s comment almost startled you. He glanced at you across the bar, the sleeves of his crisp maroon button-up rolled halfway up his arms. “I apologize for not bein’ a better neighbor,” he remarked.

You blinked, then reached up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, no— not at all,” you blurted, then gave him a chagrined smile. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’d met Morrigan when she was coming back from school, since I was in the front yard. She just… hopped on over, so I said hi. Honestly I should have introduced myself better, but…” You bit your lip. “I just kept putting it off because I didn’t want to bother you…”

He blinked, then chuckled slightly, as though surprised. “An’ here I thought it was ‘cause you didn’t really like me for some reason,” he said, amusement laced in his tone.

You gave him a horrified look. “Oh! Not at all!” You shook your head with a sigh, tugging mournfully at your ponytail. “I’m… notoriously bad at meeting people for the first time,” you groaned. “I just get nervous and tongue tied and I don’t know how to interact and… ugh.” You winced. “I am sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I should be a better neighbor, especially since I somehow got to know your daughter.” You half-laughed at yourself.

He waved you off. “I’m just glad you get along with Mor,” he chuckled. “She speaks endlessly about you. Seems like you’ve impressed her.”

You looked up at him, genuinely surprised. “Really?” you wondered, glancing at the girl. Then you smiled. “Well, I’m flattered. She’s such a smart, curious girl. I’m rather honored that she’d find me interesting.” You breathed a laugh, then glanced up at him. “I should get to my station, but… if you don’t mind, would it be alright if I swung by tomorrow to say hi and properly introduce myself?”

He nodded calmly. “Of course. She gets back home from school at three, if you wanted to catch her as well.”

You nodded, propping the tray on your hip. “Thank you! I’ll do that. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll stop procrastinating and actually start working,” you laughed, and walked off with a wave.

The night progressed relatively smoothly, customers rotating in and out with regulars stopping by. The crowds ebbed and flowed, sometimes more rowdy and sometimes more calm. Still, you enjoyed the atmosphere and the liveliness of it all. Despite it being a pub, and an Irish one at that, the town was small and most people knew everyone else. Plus, Lysander was the bartender for more than one reason. Everyone knew that making trouble of any sort was not tolerated and had force to back it up.

You occasionally popped by Morrigan’s place at the bar, either to have a chat or to admire the progress she’d made on her drawing. And throughout the night, your worries started to mount the more gossip you heard around the pub. Some of them had heard confirmation that the Romanian vampire gone mad was making a beeline for Ireland, though no one seemed to know why. There were even more rumors that Agent Blue, the famous Will-o-the-Wisp, was after the rampaging Pricoli. And still others said that the Scott Pack would be making a reappearance.

Once you’d finished your shift and helped close up shop, you started the trudge back to your cottage down the road. It wasn’t a far walk, really, and it gave you some time to think and clear your head from the smells of the pub. Reaching up, you pulled your hair free from the ponytail and sighed, shoulders slumping.

You’d come to Ireland to escape your problems, but it felt like they were all closing in on you as the days went by. As you got home and got ready for bed, you wondered if it was asking too much to hope for some peace.

Instead, you distracted yourself by trying to think of something to make for the Sullivans the next day. You didn’t want to go empty handed, after all. Maybe some bread-?

You fell asleep thinking about it.

You’d just lifted your hand to knock when the door flung open. Morrigan practically tackled you, wrapping her arms around your waist with a shriek of greeting.

Laughing, you balanced yourself and wrapped an arm around her. “Well hello, Queenie,” you greeted. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

She grabbed your hand and dragged you in, chattering happily about her day at school. “Oh, and you should have heard how everyone laughed!” She interrupted herself as she led you into the kitchen. “Daddy, she’s here!” she called.

Trying to balance the homemade sourdough in one hand while still holding Morrigan’s with the other, you looked up to give Lysander a helpless smile. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan,” you greeted, a little breathlessly.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “Well hallo, Miss,” he greeted back, wiping his hands with a towel. “Mor, why don’t you let her set the plate down before anything drops,” he said, shaking his head.

Morrigan let go of your hand, bouncing up and down. “Ooh, what is it?”

You offered it to Lysander, a little flustered. “I… well, I didn’t really want to come without an offering, so… I made some homemade sourdough,” you offered, a little awkwardly. “I hope you like it, it’s a fresh batch, still warm.”

He took it from you with a nod. “Thank you. We love sourdough, don’t we, Mor?” He seemed far more comfortable in his own home, less stoic and stern than in the pub.

Morrigan nodded, throwing up her hands with a cheer. “Yeah!” She danced around. “I love bread!” Then she grabbed your hand again. “Oh, oh, you gotta come see my room! Daddy just made me a new desk, and it’s really nice and shiny!”

Lysander waved you off as you turned to him. “Go ahead. Oh, I was going to invite you to dinner,” he added. “If you’d like. The food is almost done, actually. Your bread will be a perfect addition.”

You smiled. “I’d be honored. Thank you.” Then you let Morrigan drag you away.

By the time Lysander called for you both, you’d been given the official tour of her room and had happily listened to her tell stories of what she’d done at school and the projects she planned to do in the coming days. The little girl always cheered you up with her bright and cheerful presence. If anything, it eased your heart to see the little girl clearly so healthy and happy with her Father. She openly adored him, quite the Daddy’s girl.

As the three of you sat down at the table, you realized with a slight start that you’d never felt so comfortable in Ireland as you did in this moment. It felt… right, like you’d finally come home.

“Thank you for the food,” you said, giving Lysander a grateful smile. “It looks amazing.” The soup simmered in the bowls, while the sourdough bread had been cut into slices and set by the butter.

He nodded. “Thank you for the bread.” He passed the steamed potatoes, and everyone dug into the meal.

You let out a soft hum of contentment as you ate, enjoying the rich flavors and the homey comfort food. Clearly Lysander was a good cook, and you almost envied Morrigan for being able to come home to this every night. Not that you weren’t a good cook yourself, but you supposed company really did make a difference.

“The bread is so good!” Morrigan chirped, taking a giant bite of the bread slathered in butter.

You laughed softly. “I’m glad, Queenie. Take it slow,” you warned, worried she’d choke. “The bread isn’t going anywhere.”

She nodded, scarfing down her food. “Oh, oh, Daddy, cartoons are on soon! Can I please go watch? I did all my homework!”

Lysander nodded. “Alright. Go take your dishes to the sink.”

“Thank you! Morrigan cheered, sliding down from her chair and carefully taking the dishes. She trotted to the kitchen, then got herself a glass of juice and went to go to the living room.

You realized with a slight start that this was the first time you’d been alone with Lysander. Looking down at your spoonful, you wondered if you should maybe ask him the questions that pressed on your mind. Perhaps he would know. Then again… it’s not as though he were related to your grandfather’s clan… and not to mention, most of the people in the town didn’t even know that you were aware of the nonhuman community. In fact, you were rather positive that your coworkers thought you didn’t.

“If I may ask, what brought you to this small town?” Lysander asked, his voice calm and mellow. His blue eyes glanced up at you, and the question died on your tongue.

“Oh… family history, actually,” you admitted with a smile. “And, well…” You shrugged lightly. “I needed to get away for a while. I wanted a fresh start, somewhere where people didn’t really know me.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I essentially did the same with Morrigan when we moved here a few years ago.”

You hummed, reaching for a piece of bread. He handed you the butter, and you gently grasped the sleeve of his flannel for a moment. “You’ve got a bit on your clothes,” you said, wiping the smeared butter off with a napkin. You’d just let go when your fingers brushed across his briefly as you took the butter. You didn’t notice the way he froze, his movements jerky as he pulled his hand back.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you— I mean, does any of your family still live here?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. But technically, my extended family is here. My grandfather immigrated from Ireland to America, where I was born, but through marriage there are still people here I’m technically connected to.” You shrugged. “I haven’t really gotten in contact with them, though. They probably don’t know me that well,” you laughed with a rueful shrug. You glanced at him for a moment. “I bet it’s even harder when you have children.”

He glanced toward the living room, where the faint sound of the cartoons floated through the house. “Well, I suppose,” he admitted thoughtfully. “Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. She’s my life, really.”

You lowered your eyes to your plate, unable to deny how your chest tightened at the way his voice softened when he spoke of his daughter. You’d always tried to forget how much you’d been attracted to the older man. You’d only ever dated once, and while he’d been nice enough and it had ended cordially, you still hadn’t been able to forget the lingering feeling of disappointment you’d had from the experience. You’d known, after that, that it would either be a long time before you ever tried dating again or it would have to be to someone whose maturity at least matched yours. And, unfortunately for you, that tended to mostly apply to men past their forties.

You really did try to forget how Lysander ticked all the boxes.

“I can see why.” You smiled. “She’s really precious.” Your eyes slid toward the living room. “Does she… inherit from you?”

Lysander looked up, his gaze suddenly piercing as he stared at you openly.

You gave him a faint smile. “I don’t talk much about it, but my grandfather comes from the local O’Connor Faoladh Tribe,” you said calmly, taking another sip of the soup.

His shoulders relaxed, the hard edge in his expression melting away. “Ah. Yes, she does. But she hasn’t fully shifted yet. It will be another year, we think. Are you-?”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. It’s funny, really,” you said thoughtfully, motioning with your spoon. “My grandfather is Faoladh, and my mother’s side of the family is a lycanthrope pack.” Your lips twitched. “And somehow, I got the recessive genes and ended up a simple Seer.”

His eyebrow raised. “Not so simple, I’d think,” he remarked. “Aren’t Seers rather uncommon now?”

You shrugged. “For a reason. There’s plenty of potential but not many who actively practice anymore. The price is heavy for knowledge like that.”

He gave you a discerning look. “Is that what you’re running from?”

Your silver spoon clinked softly as you set it down on the edge of the plate. “I suppose you could say that,” you murmured. Your eyes closed as you shoved away the memories of distant screaming, the crackle of fire, crimson splashed across stone floors— “Or maybe toward something.” After all, you mused, there had been a reason you’d felt drawn to your grandfather’s homeland, and town in particular. And of course, you’d never been one to fight Fate too hard.

“Perhaps so,” he conceded. Then he stood. “May I take your plate?”

“Oh— please, let me help.” You stood, taking your dishes and starting towards the kitchen. “At least let me wash or dry.”

When you finally got back home, you sat down on the couch and buried your face into your hands. Seeing Morrigan and Lysander together had stirred up old memories you’d long since tried to forget. Old desires that you’d thought you’d given up on: hopes and dreams of a family to call your own.

You crawled into bed, everything inside you aching. After all, what could a Seer with a cursed fate possibly offer anyone?

The night the Dullahan rode into town, you’d just started closing up the pub on night shift duty.

They’d ridden in, followed by the famous Agent Blue clad in his dark robes and carrying his lantern over his shoulder. He strode in the door, followed by the Dullahan. At first, you hadn’t even noticed the other figure trailing behind them.

Your Boss, Dorian, had walked out of the back room to greet them. He, of everyone in the town, was the only one to know of your heritage, as the elected leader of the supernatural community in the town. He nodded to the group as they entered.

“Welcome, Dullahan, Agent Blue.” He nodded at them, shaking the Will-o-the-Wisp’s hand.

“Greetings in return, Chief Dorian,” Agent Blue replied, his face still covered by the hood. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Pricoli that’s been running amok all over the Isles.”

Dorian nodded. “We certainly have. I assume you’ve come on a hunt.”

“We have. And I’ve brought someone with me.” Agent Blue turned, motioning towards the back of the group.

You’d been distracted, still working on trying to finish clearing up and getting out of the way. If your boss had asked, you were ready to offer to serve the new guests as well, giving Lysander a glance that he returned with a small nod.

It wasn’t until you straightened and turned around, finished, that you heard a familiar, startled voice call your name. Turning, you looked up and saw, to your shock, a very familiar face staring at you. You froze as the figure lunged forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. After a moment, you awkwardly hugged him back, mind whirling.

“What are you doing here?” Your younger brother stared at you incredulously, holding your arms. “I didn’t even know you left home! Last I heard you were still there.”

You grasped his sleeves, disoriented. “O-Oh. Ray,” you gasped, processing. “I—“ You suppressed a flinch. “I just… moved into grandfather’s old cottage,” you stammered, then looked down. “I had to get away,” you said quietly. “It was too much.”

Of all your family, you knew that Ray would best understand. He’d been the only one to really stand up for you back home, try to support you as best as he could, being a younger sibling. When everyone else constantly reminded you of your Fate, your Destiny, Ray had been the only one who had encouraged your personal hopes and dreams, had listened to your fears and worries.

He sighed. “I mean, I can’t blame you,” he said, shaking his head. “Still… does anyone know?”

You scoffed slightly, turning your head away. “Only Grandfather ever cared about me besides you, Ray. There’s no one else who probably even asked.” You shrugged. “How is school?” You’d been the one to support him when he decided to move to Scotland to attend University. He, too, had wanted to escape home.

He grinned. “Pretty great, actually!” Then he glanced behind him. “Turns out my best mate is actually one of Agent Blue’s sons, so when the whole Pricoli thing went down, I offered to be his in to the Faoladh Tribe here. For formality, y’know.” He shrugged. “I remembered what Grandfather had always taught us about how picky Faoladh are about tradition.”

You nodded. “Yeah…” You huffed slightly. “Technically only the people in here right now even know that I’m a part of the supernatural community,” you said dryly.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s some dedication to keep it quiet. How has the local gossip train not found you out yet?”

You snorted. “Maybe because I’ve always been quiet and kept my mouth shut.” You rolled your eyes at him, though a smile twitched on your lips. “And we both know who never can.”

He playfully cuffed your shoulder. Then he grinned. “Oh, but guess what?” His eyes sparkled. “I found my Mate!”

Your eyes widened. “Really?” Your heart lightened for him, happy that your younger brother had finally found his Mate. “Does she know yet?”

He shook his head, face falling a little. Well, not yet. I mean, I’ve kinda only just met her and all, so… and it’s kinda awkward, cause…” He winced. “Well, she’s my best mate’s younger sister.”

You gave him an incredulous look, then sighed, shaking your head. “Well, good luck with that one, Ray,” you snorted. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the situation with that one.”

He shrugged. “I know, but…” His grin turned goofy. “She’s so pretty. You should see her. She’s even pretty sassy, kinda like you are with me.”

You laughed softly, patting his arm. “Well, I’m glad I was able to catch up with you. If you need a place to stay, you know my house is always open to you.”

He nodded. “Thanks, sis. I should probably head back. I don’t know what else they might want me for.” He paused, then gave you an odd look. “Have you… found anyone?”

You blinked at him, startled. “What? Ray, you know what my Fate says.” You frowned.

An odd expression crossed his face, then he shook his head. “Yeah, I know. Just… don’t forget the promise you made me.”

You sighed. “I won’t, Ray.” As if you ever could, you thought with a hint of bitterness. He wouldn’t let you.

He squeezed your hand, slipping a piece of paper into your grasp. “Text me. I wanna keep in touch.”

You nodded, pocketing the note. “Thanks. Good luck, Ray. Stay safe.”

He nodded, then jogged back to Agent Blue with a wave. You were left to stand there, your heart sinking with every step he took away from you. Everything was lining up far too well. Though you’d vainly hoped to escape from the Fate that had hung over your head for so long, it seemed as though you’d just walked right into it instead.

Turning back to the bar, you quietly packed up your things. Bidding Lysander goodnight, you checked to make sure Dorian didn’t need you and headed back for home.

It was only a matter of time.

Rain splattered against the ground, heavy and thick like a curtain. Shielding your eyes from the drops, you pushed yourself to run, faster, as fast as you could. There was no time left to think.

The vision you’d had kneeling under the large Fae Maypole tree you’d found in the forest nearby kept flashing through your mind, insistent and horrific. Your Fate loomed, past and future meshing into the present in ways you could hardly stand. You’d thought you’d been running, cowardly but maybe safe from the Sword of Damocles—but now here you were, fallen headlong into the trap of the Fate you’d known since childhood would claim your life.

And yet your feet would not stop running, pushing you forward without hesitation. Was this not worth it? Was this Fate—this Fate that you’d feared for so long, hated and loathed and tried in futility to escape—was it truly so horrendous? Now that you were here? In this moment of truth?

You barreled up the steps, slamming your shoulder against the door without a pause. It broke, sending you headlong across the threshold to skid across the carpet. Ignoring the burn on your arm, you looked up as you heard a scream. Morrigan’s face stared at you, sheet white as she curled up in fear by the foot of the couch.

Jacking yourself up, you didn’t take time to glance behind you. “Mor, into the safe room,” you gasped, “your Daddy sent me, okay? I need you to get in the safe room, now.”

She nodded shakily, bravely scrambling to her feet and running towards the safe room that Lysander had made for her. Nothing would get through the doors, you knew, once they locked. You waited until you heard the lock click, then turned and scrambled back out the busted door.

In the empty area between your houses, out on the outskirts of the town, everything seemed oddly distant yet crystal clear. Your memories nudged at you, whispering about the deja vu that filled your every pore at the sight of the green, rolling grass and the relentless rain that poured over everything. In the distance, the red glare of a fire fueled by gas and undaunted by rain began to dominate the color of the sky.

It didn’t surprise you when cold fingers wrapped around your throat, leaving mottled bruises to bloom against your skin. You stood still, knowing that any movement might crush your throat. You may have been Fated to die, but not until you’d finished your task.

The enraged Pricoli snarled, hissing in your ear. “I know he sent you to hide her,” he sneered. “You helpless, pitiful Seer. For all your preeminence, did you not find a way to best me?” he barked a laugh, maniacal and loud. “You useless Seers and your cursed fates—and for what? A single moment of ruined glory?”

Your breath shallowed, airflow restricted. Agent Blue, several Dullahan, your brother, Dorian, and Lysander all emerged from the tree line, pausing as they saw you being held hostage. You closed your eyes for a moment as the icy hands constricted around your throat even further.

“Tell me where she is, and you get to live, Seer,” he snarled, his face nearing your ear. “She is my perfect match, my BloodSong. She is fated to be mine, my apprentice!” he howled. “Give her to me, my right!” His nails started to lengthen, turning into claws, digging against your skin. “Or I’ll drink you dry first and use you as fuel to take these maggots down.”

You brother’s face had gone ashen in horror, staring at you as though trying to deny his own eyes. His face twisted in despair.

“I’ll never give her up to you,” you answered, aware that everyone could hear you despite the rain. You tilted your head up, letting the rain wash over your face. “I am a Seer,” you declared, loudly, proud of it for the first time in your life. “And I embrace the Curse of my Fate. I pay the price gladly, if it means the power to make sure you never lay a finger on her.”

The Pricoli snarled, the rage almost audibly warping his voice into something demonic. “Then meet your Fate, Seer.”

Your knees gave out the moment his fangs ripped into your jugular. Strangely enough, the pain wasn’t even that bad, you mused hazily. Your eyes—were they blurred by tears or the rain?—rolled up to see your brother, mouth open as he reached for you. Even Lysander, white fur matted and soaked, had his maw open as his snout pointed to the sky.

Distantly, you could hear screaming. A roar, loud, tumbling through your chest, rattling into the ground. The crackling of fire. Everything started to get.. so… cold. Vaguely, as the hand shoved you forward and you landed against the ground, you could see out of the corner of your eye the Pricoli hunch forward. Despite the pain, the numbness… your lips curled in a vindictive smile.

The crimson eyes turned to you, a horrified anger sweeping through them as they landed on your twisted grin. A cold hand went up to his throat, and the Pricoli started to choke. His body lurched, tongue lolling as he gagged on your blood, his veins starting to light from the inside out with a toxic green. Slowly, agonizingly, he fell to his knees, his face contorted in a paroxysm of agony as he choked on your blood, your concentrated inherent magic tearing him apart from the inside out.

Your limbs felt sluggish as you forced yourself up, your ears ringing. Reaching up, you pressed your hand to your ruined neck and staggered to your feet, starting to lurch away from the destroyed corpse of the Pricoli. Warmth smeared across your skin, and every breath sent needles raking down your throat and into your lungs. Your feet stumbled, and before you realized it, you were leaning against something broad and firm.

Two icy blue eyes stared down at you, claws wrapping around your arms. Strangely enough, though, you didn’t fear that grasp. Lysander’s maw moved, you noticed faintly, but all you could hear was the persistent ringing in your ears. Vaguely, you reached up, your fingers clumsily landing on the side of his snout. Red smeared his fur, and your arm dropped down numbly to your side.

With the last of your strength, you forced your mouth to form the words that your shattered throat couldn’t say. Tell her goodbye.

The world spun into crimson.

Shivering, you shook your head as you curled into the corner that you’d pressed yourself into. Tears burned behind your eyes, and you heard your breath start to rasp and wheeze, rattling your throat.

Your brother’s face crumpled as he stared at you. “Please,” he begged, his voice wavering. “You need to drink.”

Agent Blue rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Take it easy, son,” he said, voice firm but compassionate. “She’s understandably frightened. Even though she’s successfully gone through the change to being a damphyr, she’s had quite the scare and probably doesn’t want to feed.”

“But she needs to!” Ray exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice. “She’s already hurting.”

It was driving you insane. The pure power of the Will-o-the-Wisp’s blood was calling to you like a tempting beacon, and your brother’s hot blood practically screamed at you. The thirst flared in your throat, an ache so powerful you wanted to gag. It was like sandpaper. But you didn’t want to feed from them. You didn’t want to risk losing control, didn’t want to didn’t want to didn’t want to—

“I’ll take care of her.” Lysander stepped into the room. He turned to Ray. “She gave her life to save my daughter. This is the least I can do. I promise she’ll be in good hands.”

Your brother paused, then sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know you will, Sir,” he said, defeated. “I just…” He glanced over at you, eyes reflecting his misery.

Lysander reached out, squeezing Ray’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said quietly.

Ray nodded, then approached you again carefully. “Hey.” His voice softened. “I know you probably don’t want me around. But you have my number. Please, just… contact me when you’re ready, ok? You know I’ll be here for you, like I always have been. I’m gonna go back to Scotland, but you know how to reach me if you need anything. I won’t tell any of the family that you’re here.”

Swallowing back the drool, you tentatively reached out and barely ghosted your fingers against his cheek, hoping your eyes would convey your thanks. You just… needed space. Away from him, to control yourself, get yourself together.

But his expression turned a little more hopeful, and he nodded. “Love you, sis,” he said quietly. “Please… live.” With a small smile, he stood and followed Agent Blue out of the room.

With a quiet whine, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push past the unbearable, insistent pain scratching down your throat. Your throat roared for a drink. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Lysander approach. Though you didn’t know why, his presence always sent you into an absolute panic, though not of fear. Your thirst around him seemed to impossibly skyrocket. Like something about him drove you crazy.

He knelt, his blue eyes fixed on yours. He reached out slowly, giving you a chance to move away. Instead, your body froze, entirely fixating on the way his plaid shirtsleeve pulled tight around his arm, rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed thickly, his blood an absolute siren call. You could smell it, practically taste it. Dripping down your throat, into your veins, ambrosia sweet and thick— Drool slipped down the corner of your mouth, past the pressure of fangs against your lips.

Lysander’s eyes strained. “I know what it does to you,” he said quietly. “Just the fact that you’re not lunging for me right now is…” He sighed, his other hand raking through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or-“ His lips twisted as he cut himself off, as though conflicted. “There’s a reason why my blood calls to you.” He settled himself in front of you, making you want to scream as both relief and a frenzy of want roared through you.

“Of course, Mor is my daughter,” Lysander said, his voice low as he looked down at the floor between you. “But her Mother was… not my true Mate.” He sighed. “I didn’t really care, because I loved her. But she… well, she left me. Didn’t want Mor, didn’t want… me.” A self-depreciating smile passed across his face. “But it was okay, I had Mor and I only wanted the best for her. But still… somewhere inside me, I knew that my true Mate was out there somewhere.”

You almost couldn’t focus, his proximity almost painful because he was too far, and yet not close enough—

“And then you appeared, and Mor started to love you, and I—“ He sighed, hand reaching up to cover his face. “And I didn’t know if I wanted to run or stay.” His shoulders slumped. “Seeing you with Mor, working with you, talking with you… every moment I spend with you near is like agony, but when you leave it’s like you take a part of me with you and I can’t breathe.”

Abruptly, your mouth went dry, shocked almost clear out of bloodlust. Wait, was he saying-?

“I told myself that you’d be better off without me,” Lysander admitted, voice thick. “I’m… not young any more. You’re beautiful and— and you have so much more promise, a whole life ahead of you… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’d gone for so long without my true Mate, I thought I’d be fine. But when I saw you lying on the ground…” He turned his face away, jaw ticking, a wild, feral light in his eyes. A low snarl rumbled through his chest, dissolving into a whine he quickly cut off.

He looked back up at you. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel… obligated to do anything. But you deserve to know the reason why my blood calls to you so strongly, and why— why I want you to drink from me. Why I don’t mind.”

Your mind whirled. The permission. The heady scent of his blood. The warmth he promised. The realization that he was calling you his true Mate. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Reaching up, you clapped your hand over your mouth with a half-sob of desperation. You wanted it. You practically ached for it, the kindness and love he offered. The promise of a family, a home, someone who had seen you at your worst and still somehow wanted you.

“Please,” Lysander rasped, his eyes laced with that same desperation roiling in his gut. “You don’t even have to accept me as a Mate. But you need to feed, and I—“

You were at your limit. You’d already taxed yourself as a newborn damphyr somehow trying to resist the frenzy of the first feed, and now that your Mate was in front of you, offering freely, practically begging you to feed from him, you could only take so much.

You lunged, a snarl dying on your lips as you lunged forward, the strength of your desperation actually knocking the seasoned werewolf down onto the floor. And still, even as you straddled his waist, your fingers curled around his shoulder, eyes fixed on the tempting expanse of his neck… you still tried to fight. Still tried to fight it, to control yourself.

But Lysander’s broad, warm hands gently wrapped around your waist, not fighting or pushing you off. The scar slashing across the left side of his face seemed to glow in the light streaming through the curtained window, and he gave you a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice low and soothing. “I can handle it. I know you won’t hurt me.”

You shuddered, drool dripping down your fangs. Leaning forward slowly, you tried to keep yourself paced, tried to force yourself to some modicum of control. Mouth opening, you lowered your head until your fangs just barely grazed the crook of his neck and shoulder, not too close to his jugular but just enough.

The moment your fangs sank into his throat, Lysander’s fingers went weak around your waist. A deep groan pooled into the air, and a tremor ran through his body underneath you.

Heat pooled in your stomach, even as his blood slid down your throat with a satisfaction unparalleled. He tasted sweet and dusky, like fresh bread and sunshine, and freshly-cut grass after the rain. The pure heat and warmth he radiated soaked into you, and you felt the bloodlust slowly slake as you drank. Finally, you forced yourself to let go, vaguely aware with your instincts that you’d taken enough to not hurt him but probably still leave him a bit lightheaded for a moment.

The bite wound almost instantly healed over, and his grasp on your waist tightened again, fingers flexing as he regained his bearings.

You leaned your head against his chest, the gratitude and shame warring inside you. Grateful that he’d been so kind, so understanding and gentle. Ashamed of your own arousal, the way your entire being reacted to him.

Your name slipped from his lips, and a moment later his face pressed into your hair. His voice ached with the same torn desire that roiled through you. “I shouldn’t—“ He sucked in a sharp breath as you pressed your body flush against his. You could feel how tight his pants were, could feel the lines of his bulge pressed up against your thigh. A choked groan accompanied the way his hands spasmed around your waist.

“Mate.” The whisper slid from your mouth, the first thing you’d said aloud since your change. Your fingers clenched in his flannel shirt. “Mate… wants me?” Your voice cracked with your fear. Fear that he wouldn’t want to deal with you after all, that you weren’t worth it—

He pulled you closer to him, hand sliding to your hair. “So damn much, sweetheart,” he rasped, cradling your head to his shoulder. “You’re so goddamn beautiful and fierce— I don’t care if you’re human, Seer, damphyr. You’re my true Mate, my love.”

And you buried your face into his shoulder and let yourself shed a few tears of relief. He wanted you. Accepted you, in spite of everything.

“I know it’s not fair to ask you to stay,” his voice strained. “You gave your life for Morrigan, and I’m so much older—“

You reached up, your hands sliding up to cup his jaw as you slanted your lips over his, tears slipping down your cheeks. His mouth opened, kissing you back with a fervor as he splayed his hand over your lower back, pressing you into him. He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into your body. Your entire body flushed, and you let out a quiet whimper.

Almost before you could register it, he flipped you over onto the floor, hovering over you. His teeth bared, and he stared down at you with a heat in his eyes that scorched through you. His hands clenched around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his.

You whimpered, tilting your head to the side and exposing your throat to him, sprawled against the floor. Your chest heaved with breath, and a moment later his teeth closed gently on the arch of your neck. A soft breathy moan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering closed as his scent washed over you, his mouth marking your neck, replacing the memory of the Pricoli’s fingerprints mottled against your skin.

With an effort, Lysander wrenched himself away, though he half rutted against you. “Darling, I’m going to need you to tell me if you don’t want this,” he rasped, voice thick and half a snarl already.

“Lysander,” you whispered, lips caressing his name.

His hips stuttered, and he pulled you up against him before heaving himself up and staggering to the bed. He lowered you onto the bed, wasting no time before he practically yanked you to him, his hands hot and greedy. He kissed you, somehow still gentle and yet needy enough to take your breath away.

“May I?” He tapped your shirt.

You nodded shyly, letting him slide it off of you. You lifted your hips in an invitation, and he lowered his mouth to your neck as he slipped your shorts off. He groaned, hands sliding across your bared skin. His skin felt so hot to the touch against your chilled body, wholly satisfying. You practically melted into his hands like putty, malleable to however he touched you, moved you. He made you feel safe. Loved. Cherished. Wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “So beautiful, leannen.” The Gaelic spilled naturally from his mouth as he slid his hands under your back, unhooking your bra. You let him slide it off, too desperate for the warmth of his hands to process embarrassment. His hands cupped your breasts, callouses rasping across your nipples in a way that left your breathless and aching.

You whimpered, a little encouraged by the way you felt his bulge throb against you at the sound. Fingers tangling in his shirt, you tilted your head for air, arching into his hands.

“Fuck,” Lysander hissed against your jaw, his hips rolling into you. His hands slid lower, and his thumbs hooked in your underwear. “Can I?”

You nodded, fingers clenching against his shoulders as he slid them off. His shirt was already straining at the seams, threatening to rip. At your tug, he took a moment to reach down and practically rip his shirt off, tossing it uncaringly to the side as he opened his mouth against your neck.

You were already dripping, just his touch and scent enough to arouse you. Breath hissed through his teeth as his fingers dragged through your slick, just barely brushing past your clit. A whine escaped your lips as you shivered, fingers slipping against his chest.

“You smell so good,” Lysander groaned, one finger slipping into you as his thumb rubbed circles around your clit. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re wet. Can I take care of you?” he rumbled, teeth nipping at your ear. “You already gorged yourself on my blood. How about I fill you up with something else?”

You flushed, fangs sinking into your lower lip. “Please?” you whispered.

His ice blue eyes flashed, and his chest heaved under your hands. “Oh, are we a little desperate?” He smirked, sliding another finger into you, stretching you. “Want me to pull your legs up on my shoulders and keep you here all night?” He chuckled, feeling you pulse around his fingers. “Mmmm, I think your gorgeous body is being pretty honest, sweetheart. Well. I aim to please my Mate.”

You only had a moment to wonder when he’d managed to get his pants off. His fingers slid out of you, only for you to feel his cock rest heavily against your entrance. He slid against you, and you could feel a dribble of precum smear across your skin. One hand went to your waist, holding you, while his other found your clit again.

“Is this alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low and suddenly soft. “I’m a bit of a stretch. I’ll try to go slow.”

With how wet you were, you sincerely doubted that he would find much of a problem. Still, you swallowed and nodded, grateful for his care and the way he tried, every step of the way, to make sure you were comfortable. Then again, you could already tell he wasn’t lying about how big he was. You could feel him resting against you, throbbing against your thigh. Slowly, he pressed just the tip into you, his breath shuddering.

Your lips parted in a gasp as he stretched you open, sliding into you. Compared to the chill of your body, his cock practically radiated heat. By the time he completely bottomed out, pelvis flush against yours, you’d already come so close to the edge, drool slipping from the corners of your lips. He seemed to completely fill you, pressing up against every spot inside of you until you swore he’d stretched you into his shape.

Lysander slumped over you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. His entire body shuddered, and his hands clenched around your waist. His chest heaved against yours, muscles flexing as though he were physically holding himself back.

“Thank you.” The shaky whisper pooled against your skin. “For saving her. Giving your life for her. Thank you. For choosing me.”

Your fingers slid into his salt and pepper hair, relishing the stubble against your neck and shoulder. “I love you.” The confession spilled from your lips, quiet in the room.

He shuddered, letting out a low moan. His fingers clenched, just as he pulled you down further onto his cock, pressing up into you. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Lysander,” you repeated obediently, wholly truthful. Your core clenched around him, and he hissed, pulling out to thrust back into you.

“I love you,” he groaned, starting to thrust in a slow but steady rhythm. He reached down, then pulled your legs up around his hips. The new angle made you pulse as he seemed to reach impossibly deeper into you, angling up justenough to hit that one spot inside you that had you gasping and arching.

“You’re so tight,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Feels so good, sweetheart. So good.”

He suddenly reached behind you and grabbed a pillow, then lifted your hips up to prop it under you. Setting you back down, he shifted himself up and pulled your legs up to his shoulders.

A cry left your lips, utterly wrecked and broken. His cock completely filled you, fucking any semblance of coherence out of you, going so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach. He seemed to know exactly how to read your body, adjusting to every whimper you let out, not giving you a break as he kept pounding into you with devastating precision.

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” he chuckled, the sound raking down your spine. “Is this what you want?” He thumbed your clit, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You gonna give Mor a little sibling? Taking me so well like this, spread open for me?”

The thought of adding more kids to your life, together with Lysander, proved to be the last straw for your poor mind. You came, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you cried out his name and the wave of heat and pleasure washed through your body.

And Lysander just kept fucking you through it, going harder as he pinned you against the sheets under him, not caring that your fingers raked against his shoulders. He bent to kiss you, murmuring your name in a husky voice that just wrecked you even more. He gave you no mercy, his gaze predatory as he stared down at you, soaking in your ruined expression.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he murmured, coaxing you through your high.

Even when you rode it out, he didn’t slow down or let up the pace. “You gonna make me cum, darling? Can I cum inside you?”

A plea staggered off of your lips, followed by his name. Your jumbled, blissed-out mind wouldn’t allow you to do anything else, barely recalling your own name.

“Fuck— gonna cum, sweetheart— gonna fill you up—“ He let out a moan before his hips slammed into you one last time. He ground against you as he came, his bruising grip not letting you move an inch away from him.

You melted back into the bed, eyes closing as you soaked in the feeling of his seed filling you, pouring into you. Your fingers slid up the back of his neck as you lay there, docile and welcoming to his every move. Even when he’d finally stopped spilling into you, your stomach full and hot, he slumped against you.

His lips slid across your throat, soft and almost reverent, and he pulled you into his body. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, his hands running over you with gentle, loving strokes, soothing you.

“I promise I’ll do my best to protect you, treat you the way you should be,” he promised. “I love you so much, sweetheart.” Then he chuckled, hand running over your stomach. “I wonder if Morrigan will want a brother or a sister. She’s already going to be so excited to call you Mommy.”

You gave him a shy smile, accepting his soft kiss. “Thank you, Lysander,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Perhaps the price of your Fate had been high, you thought, but it had been entirely worth it.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #x reader #my writing #mywriting #nsft #exophilia #terato #monsterfucker #xyou #smut #kinktober

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Hey Angel - Harry Styles

a/n: since i had so much time on my hand at work lately (not anymore unfortunately) i used it wisely and cooked up this PA themed fic bc i absolutely love this trope. it’s lengthy and kinda emotional? kinda, lol. hope you’ll like it and as always, feedback is much appreciated!!

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.5k

masterlist

Harry likes to pretend he is tall enough to comfortably rest his chin on the top of your head when he stands behind you, but that’s not true. He has to push himself a little to his tippy toes and push you down at the same time to fit his chin above you, his arms weighing down on your shoulders. You stopped arguing him that you need to push your hips forward when he does this so you don’t carry his whole weight.

“Tha’s rude, you do not have to do tha’!” he defended himself every time you brought up, so you just stopped.

Now as you watch the game of air hockey unfold in front of you, a half empty pint in your hand, you don’t even budge when you feel a chiseled chin resting on the top of your head, you push your hips forward without a second thought to shorten your height. You catch a glimpse of a tattooed forearm on your shoulder, Harry’s chest presses against your back gently.

He doesn’t stay in this position too long, it’s making it hard to drink so soon enough, he wraps his left arm around your shoulders, coming to stand next to you, sipping on his tequila on the rocks.

“Hey you,” you smile at him as he gives you a side look, a boyish smirk tugging on his pink lips. “Everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”

“You need something? How much have you had to drink?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows, looking down at his glass that was certainly full when you last saw him about ten minutes ago.

“Shush, stop pretending like you’re working,” he waves at your face, his words melting together, definitely thanks to the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“I know I’m not working, I’m just tryna’ be your friend and look out for you.” Bringing your own drink up to your lips, you give him a look, but he just smirks at you playfully.

“Uh-huh, whatever. Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you, H,” you sigh dramatically and it makes him laugh with his head falling back.

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m some spoiled brat celebrity you ‘ave to babysit for your living? And that I always do ridiculous shit so you ‘ave to keep an eye on me at all times?”

You can’t push your smile down at how far this statement is from reality. You just like to tease him about being a typical, asshole rockstar when he is literally your favorite person in the world without a doubt.

“Oh Angel, you can’t fool me,” he cackles, squeezing you to his side before taking another sip from his drink.

“Wouldn’t even try to,” you mumble with an amused smile. “Havin’ fun, birthday boy?” you ask, leaning into his side. You would never admit, but you love how touchy Harry can get sometimes, not really caring about physical boundaries, especially when he drinks. The hugs, the squeezes, the touches, they always make your heart flutter even after knowing him for years.

“I’m havin’ a blast. What about you?”

“What about me? It’s not my birthday,” you chuckle shortly.

“So what? I can’t make sure you’re enjoying your night?” he frowns at you dramatically that just makes you laugh.

“I’m having a great night. It’s just that my boss keeps coming after me even though I’m supposed to be off the clock.”

You peek up at him to see the grin on his face at your teasing. The dynamic between the two of you has been like this since day one. The constant bickering and teasing is what really brought the two of you close, you are so similar, it’s like you can see a male version of yourself when you look at him.

“Tell the dude to fuck off,” he mumbles into his drink and you bump your hip against him, but he just holds you tight to his side as an answer.

Soon enough, Harry joins the game and you watch him play from the side, obviously cheering on his opponent to annoy him, earning some pretty dirty looks from him whenever they score against him and you let out a “woho!” in victory.

“Y’know, it’s not too nice to cheer against the birthday boy, is it?” he calls you out when the table is taken by someone else and he joins you at the side again.

“Am I not allowed to choose who I want to cheer to?” you ask with a faked puzzled look and he presses his lips into a thin line, glaring down at you intently.

“Don’t test me, Angel,” he grumbles into your ear before walking off to join his friends who came out to celebrate with him today.

It’s a pretty lowkey celebration, since he is still in the middle of filming Don’t Worry Darling, so he couldn’t really travel far from the set, but some of his dearest friends were able to come here and celebrate with him and his cast members.

You stand at the bar and your eyes find him every time you scan the place, not able to keep your gaze away from him for too long, he just demands the attention. Or at least yours.

You’ve never met anyone like him. When you got the chance to be his personal assistant four years ago at the very beginning of his solo career, you never thought how he’ll move right into your heart and never leave it. Whether you look at him as your boss or your friend, you can’t deny that he changed your life and you’ve learned so much from him, you can only hope he thinks of you somewhat the same. However you always tell yourself: what could you possibly give for The Harry Styles? He has everything in the whole wide world.

Harry catches you staring and he arches a brow at you, abandoning the conversation he has been in for the past minutes, mouthing you “what’s up, Angel”, his accent thick even without hearing his voice.

He’s been calling you Angel for longer than you can remember. When you asked him why the nickname, he said it’s because One Direction’s song Hey Angel was written about you. It was a fat lie, you haven’t met him when the song was written, but his words still tightened your chest, playing with the thought of Harry writing a song about you.

As cheesy and cliché as it is, you fell for him faster than you’d like to admit. You tried to fight it for a while, convince yourself it’s just a silly crush, but you soon had to realize you outgrew that after the first few weeks working with him. How could you not fall for him? He is everything any woman could wish for and he has you wrapped around his fingers, just like he has half the female population, probably.

You shake your head in his way, not sure how to tell him you just got lost in your thoughts about him. In fact, he occupies your mind pretty much all the time, but he doesn’t have to know about that.

He excuses himself from the table and walks up to you, a slow breath leaving your nose as you watch him approach you.

“Tired?” he asks, stopping in front of you, placing his empty glass to the counter.

“Kinda,” you nod.

“Want to head home soon?”

“Don’t worry about me. I can just call a taxi and go home, you don’t have to come.”

“Don’t be silly, we go to the same place, obviously we’re gonna go home together.”

Since filming has started, Harry and you’ve been sharing a nice apartment near the set. It was his idea to rent a place for the two of you, rather than to stay at a hotel. At first you didn’t think it would be a good idea, but of course, he convinced you to live with him for the months while the movie is being filmed. So now you basically live with Harry, share pretty much all your living space with him, except your bedroom.

“But it’s your birthday, stay as long as you want,” you tell him, not wanting to snatch him away from his friends on his big day.

“We’re filming in the afternoon tomorrow, can’t drag the night too long either way,” he shrugs, trying to make you believe it’s really nothing.

No matter how badly you try to convince him to stay, he doesn’t bulge and starts saying goodbye within an hour, calling the two of you a car to take you home. He is clearly tipsy, but not drunk. Once you’re in the car, Harry’s hand finds yours and he pulls you closer in the backseat until your thighs are pressed together. He curls an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to his side, sinking down in the seat. You let your head rest on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness of his body, pressing down any worrying thought that usually makes its way to your mind every time Harry gets a little cozier than the usual.

The rational side of your brain knows you should be keeping some distance from him for the sake of your own sanity and emotional health, but you just can’t. Denying these little moments from yourself would be like pure torture and your heart can’t take that for sure.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” he murmurs, his nose nuzzling into your hair and you just shrug your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you mumble your lie.

“Liar, I can hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours,” he grins down at you as your eyes lock for a moment. Thank God for the darkness in the car, because you can feel your cheeks heating up. The last thing you need is for Harry to see how nervous he can make you feel with just a simple compliment.

“Stop being nosy, you don’t have to know everything all the time.” You poke his side with your elbow, it makes him jump a little before he snuggles back to your side.

“That’s not true, you know I’m entitled to hold every knowledge in the world.” He tries to hide his smirk, but he fails miserably and you just laugh at him with your head falling back to his shoulder.

“Harry Styles, you are something else,” you sigh shaking your head at him.

Arriving home Harry keeps an arm around you as you walk up to the front door, fishing your keys out of your bag since you’d bet Harry didn’t bring his. There’s a chance he hasn’t even used his copy since you’ve been here, he knows you always have yours and you haven’t really left without each other so far, always staying around the other.

“Want to shower first?” he hums, walking inside, his arm leaving your shoulders and though you feel lighter without the extra weight, you wish it was still there.

“Go for it, I’m gonna clean up the mess I made when I got ready earlier,” you tell him, heading into your bedroom where the floor is littered with half your wardrobe from earlier, when you were trying to figure out what to wear for the little outing.

Harry disappears in the shared bathroom and a moment later you hear the water running. You go around your room, picking up the dresses you voted against, placing them back into the wardrobe and then you put away your makeup you left on your bed in your hurry.

“Bathroom is yours!” Harry calls out just when you finish, you hear his bedroom door open and close so you grab a clean oversized t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts before occupying the bathroom.

The warm shower feels nice, it’s been a long day since you started on set, Harry had a few scenes to film before you could leave in the afternoon. You wash away the day, scrub your makeup off and then take off the rest with your wipes once you’re out. You brush your hair and use some lotion for your dry skin before getting dressed and leaving the steamy bathroom.

Padding down the short hallway you hear nothing coming from Harry’s bedroom and you wonder if he’s already asleep, but once you step inside your room you see that he is cozied up on your bed, your covers pulled up to his naked chest, a pillow tucked under his head as he scrolls through his phone so shamelessly, as if it was his own room.

“Did you take the wrong turn in the hallway?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as you throw your dirty clothes to your temporary hamper, which is basically your emptied out suitcase.

“Nope,” he grins smugly, you have to roll your eyes at him. He locks his phone, dropping it to the side table, watching you move around, getting ready for bed and his eyes on your figure feel like they’re burning down on your skin.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” you comment not even looking at him, but you just know he is still staring at you. Grabbing a hairtie from the little dresses in the corner of your room you reach back to loosely braid your hair, but his voice stops you.

“Wait,” he pleads and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “Can I do it?”

You give him a confused look as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, his green eyes are glimmering from the tiredness and the alcohol he has consumed tonight.

“You want to braid my hair?”

“Yeah,” he nods. You hesitate for a moment but join him on the bed at last, turning your back against him, giving him full control over your hair.

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers raking through your strands. He is so gentle and careful as you feel him section your hair off to three parts.

“Didn’t know you can braid,” you tell him, eyes fixated on the sheets in front of you.

“Gemma taught me, but I’m not the best at it.”

“So I’ll look atrocious?” you tease him smiling to yourself. He pokes the back of your neck with his fingers before continuing his work.

“You could never look atrocious, even if you tried.”

“And you are such a flirt,” you sigh. Over the years you’ve gotten used to his flirty act, it’s just who he is and though in the beginning your breath always got caught in your throat when he said something cheesy, now you just brush it off, only thinking about his words when you are alone in the night, struggling to fall asleep because you’re once again, thinking about him.

“M’telling the truth. Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?”

“Mmm,” you hum. He has told you that you looked pretty when the two of you left and he saw you walk out of your room in your black skinny jeans and flowy sheer top on, your hair loosely curled, but you didn’t really know what to say, so you just smiled at him and it’s the same now. You’re not the best at taking compliments.

“You really did. You always are.”

“And once again, you are such a flirt.”

“Complimenting a pretty woman is being a flirt?” he asks pretending to be offended as he carefully works on your hair and you wish you could see his focused face as he is trying to keep track of the sections between his fingers. At a lack of a witty comeback, you just shrug your shoulders, fumbling with your fingers on your lap.

You both fall silent as he concentrates on your hair and you manage to stop thinking, just focus on how his fingers keep brushing against your back every time he crosses two sections over each other.

“Hairtie, please,” he asks, his hand appearing next to you with his palm upwards. You place it in his hand and he finishes up his masterpiece. “There, it didn’t turn out as bad as I thought,” he comments once he is done. Reaching back you run your fingers over the braid and it feels good, he did a great job.

“Thanks,” you smile at him shyly, turning around. He leans back, making himself comfortable once again and you arch an eyebrow at him. “Need me to walk you back to your room, sir?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine here,” he grins smugly, tugging his arm behind his head as he takes up the right side of the bed.

“You’re planning to sleep here?”

“Please, don’t make me sleep alone on my birthday!” he pouts, giving you those damned puppy eyes. How could you ever say no to him?

“You better not push me off the bed in your sleep,” you mumble before getting under the covers.

You turn off the bedside lamp and the two of you start moving around, finding a comfortable pose to sleep in and you end up facing each other on your sides, Harry’s face squished into the pillow as his eyes are roaming over the hand you have laid between your faces.

His fingers start to inch towards yours until he hooks his pinky with yours, the touch sending a warm feeling down your spine.

“I hate sleeping alone,” he mumbles into the semi-darkness.

“Why?”

“Don’t you like it when there’s someone next to you? When you wake up and you’re not alone?”

“I like it, but I don’t hate sleeping alone either,” you tell him as your eyes fall to your linked pinky fingers. “Why do you hate it? You have the bed all to yourself, and there’s no chance of waking up to someone snoring or talking in their sleep.”

He huffs out a laugh as he buries his head deeper into the pillow.

“It makes me feel lonely. Which is ridiculous, because I’m never alone.”

“But lonely and alone are not the same, so it’s not ridiculous. You can feel lonely when you’re not alone.”

“I know,” he nods, his eyes watching your linked fingers intently, before he moves his hand so it’s now covering yours, his warm palm wrapping around your much smaller hand. “I’m never lonely with you, though.”

“So… you are only lonely when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom, because we basically spend every moment of the day together.” You smirk at him and see his dimple form in his cheek as he smiles at you nodding.

“That’s right. We are like glued together.”

“How aren’t we sick of each other already?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“You sure about that?” You raise your eyebrows at him with an amused smile, he is too sure about that answer.

“One hundred percent. You’re my favorite person.”

“Is that what you tell everyone?”

He gives you a look, but you just chuckle, sinking further into your pillow. His fingers start playing with your hand as he draws a deep breath.

“I only tell this to m’ mum and Gemma. No one else.”

Your heart starts racing at the thought of him seeing you on the same level as his closest family. You know how much his mum and sister mean to him, but you never thought you are anywhere near them in his eyes.

“You’re my favorite person too,” you whisper as your eyes meet over your joined hands. He smiles at you warmly, his floppy curls falling into his forehead and you want to run your fingers through them, feel how soft they are under your touch. Harry scoots closer, your faces only a few inches away from each other as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

For a moment you just watch him, thinking how good it feels to have him in your bed. How amazing it is to end the day with him so close to you. You wish all days would end like this, you wouldn’t have another bad day with him next to you.

Lying there and watching him slowly fall asleep, his hand still on yours, the bitter thought eats itself into your mind that he is only here because he feels lonely and wanted to be close to someone, not you particularly. And though you’re glad it’s you he ended up next to, you try not to get too accustomed to the feeling, because you’re just a temporary fix to his loneliness.

The door to Harry’s trailer opens and he walks in wearing his blue dress pants and crispy white dress shirt, fumbling with the top buttons to undo them. You glance up at him from your laptop where you’ve been working on his schedule for the upcoming weeks while he was filming.

“Hey, how did it go?” you ask as he places his water bottle to the vanity and then sits in the chair he spends his mornings in while his hair is being styled and tattoos are covered.

“Good. Messed up only a few times. Whacha’ working on?”

“Just your schedule, I’ll email it to you when I’m done, though you never check it.”

“Hey, I do check it! I like your color coding. I just suck at using it and you’re always here to remind me of the important stuff.”

You roll your eyes, continuing to type away on your keyboard as he moves around, having a snack and texting back people.

“Florence is coming over for a little after we’re done. We can order something,” he speaks up grabbing your attention again.

“Cool,” you nod with a small smile. “Is she staying the night?”

“No, we just thought it would be nice to hang out a little without dressed like this,” he chuckles looking down at himself.

“What’s wrong with Jack’s clothes? You look neat.”

“Do I?” he cocks an eyebrow cheekily, placing his hands to his hips as he looks down at you.

“Yeah. It’s a nice change after all the grandpa clothes,” you tease him and he gasps pretending to be offended at your words, though you both know you have nothing against his style. In fact, you love how he just wears whatever he wants, not caring what others would think.

“Watch your mouth or you can’t wear my bode jacket again,” he warns you holding up his pointing finger, shaking it at you, but you just chuckle at him, finishing up what you’ve been working on before shutting the laptop down.

“How long until you’re done?”

“Just a few more scenes. I think we can leave in about two hours.”

“Alright.”

“You done working?”

“Mhm, for now.”

“Come and watch the filming. You’re always so hidden in here.”

“Because I always have work to do,” you point out, putting the laptop to the side from your lap.

“Yeah, but you’re done now, so come out and watch me be the next Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smugly tells you, and it makes you roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so humble, H. Is something that comes with the age?” you tease him standing up from the small sofa, grabbing your phone from the table.

“You’ll find out in a year,” he smirks back as you follow him out of the trailer, back to the set.

Later that day you, Florence and Harry are chilling back at your apartment, munching on the pizza you ordered, watching some documentary on Netflix, just enjoying a lazy evening. You’ve become quite close with Florence, her personality is a lot like yours so you got along well from the beginning, the three of you often do things together outside of set.

You and Harry are sharing the couch while Florence is curled up on the loveseat. The temperature at the apartment is always nice, but you often catch yourself feeling a little cold in the evening, but it has more to do with the tiredness rather than with the heating of the place. When you pull your legs underneath you to warm your feet, Harry notices the action and knows right away that you’re starting to feel cold as always. Reaching down he grabs a blanket from the basket next to the couch and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Come ‘ere,” he mumbles, draping the blanket over the two of you. You shuffle closer to him, making yourself comfortable at his side as he makes sure you’re fully tugged in. Then he leaves an arm around you, his fingers gently grazing your shoulder as he turns his attention back at the movie.

Glancing over at Florence you see the puzzled look on her, but you ignore it biting into your bottom lip, turning back to watch the movie though you’re having a hard time focusing. All you can think about is Harry’s touch on you.

It’s almost midnight when Florence calls herself a taxi. Harry picks up the glasses you used and volunteers to wash them, leaving you and Florence alone in the living room.

“So, what’s up with you and Harry?” she questions right away without beating around the bush.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you two has always been close, but now… it seems all too… couple-like.” She narrows her eyes at you, hands on her hips, looking like a mother questioning her daughter.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not,” she scoffs. Then you pretend to be busy with folding the blanket, but you can feel her intent stare on you before she speaks up again. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What?” you huff with a not too Oscar-worthy expression on your face that was supposed to hide the panic in you. “Well of course I like him, he is my friend and boss.”

“But not just like that. You like like him.”

“Florence,” you sigh, just when Harry walks out of the kitchen, oblivious to the conversation that he just interrupted.

“You sure you don’t want to spend the night?” he politely asks her, but she just shakes her head.

“I’m not really up for spending the night on the couch.”

“You wouldn’t have to, you can sleep in my bed,” he simply offers and something is telling you he shouldn’t open his mouth again.

“You’re not taking the couch because of me.”

“I wouldn’t, I usually sleep at Y/N’s,” he states as if it was nothing, but you instantly freeze.

Yes, ever since his birthday he has spent way more nights in your bed than in his own, always raving to you how well he can sleep when you’re next to him and you couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling lonely, so you’ve been letting him occupy half of your bed through the nights. He usually holds your hand falling asleep and then you wake up tangled together, sometimes he is cuddling you from behind, other times you’re the one curled up to his side. He treats it so casually, like it really is nothing, he just always goes on his day when you wake up so you decided to not make it into a big deal either.

Florence gives you a wide eyed look that you try hard to ignore, while Harry is so oblivious to what he just caused with his statement.

“I uhh—thanks but I’m fine going home. Besides, I think my car is already here. See you guys on set tomorrow. Y/N?” she calls out walking towards the front door.

“Hm?”

“We’ll talk later,” she tells you and it’s a strong message that she won’t just leave it at that.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you nod awkwardly, waving her goodbye.

You and Harry clean up together and as always, he is the first one to use the bathroom and by the time you’re done, he is in your bed, waiting for you to join him. You don’t comment on his presence anymore, part of you afraid he would stop spending the night in your bed and you definitely don’t want that. Not much is left from filming, meaning that soon you are forced to go home where you and Harry do not live at the same place so you’re gonna have to sleep alone, like you did before. Only now you are way too hooked on the feeling of having him in your bed, even if it’s not in the way you truly want, it’s better than nothing.

The moment you get under the sheets, Harry reaches out and pulls you to his side. He hasn’t done this often when you went to sleep, only sneaking some small touches, but you don’t mind him being a little extra clingy.

“Filming is almost over,” you mumble into his chest, your hand lazily resting where his ribcage ends in his chest.

“Mhm.” There’s a short silence before he speaks up again. “What about it, Angel?”

“It’s just that it’s going to be weird going home. I got used to living here.” It’s your way saying that you’re gonna miss having him around all the time, but you’re not sure if he understands the hint. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

“You like cramped together with me?” he chuckles lowly.

“Was kinda nice,” you smile.

“Remember how you threatened me to throw my shit out if I leave my dirty clothes on the floor?”

“I do,” you smirk, thinking back to the conversation where you agreed to live with him while he is filming. “Didn’t find any clothes on the floor, so you get an A for that.”

“Wow, was this… a compliment?”

“Shut up, I always compliment you!” you laugh smacking his chest gently.

“Oh, no. You don’t compliment, you just tell me when I managed not to fuck something up,” he corrects you and your cheeks are heating up about how well he knows you.

“Those are compliments in my book, don’t be greedy.”

“M’not. I love how grounded you keep me with treating me like this.”

“Like what?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Like a normal person. With you, I don’t have to be afraid that I earn something because of who I am. You give no shit about my name, you always keep me in check and I appreciate that.”

“Can’t let you have a too big of a head,” you smirk, closing your eyes. He laughs with you, squeezing you a little before you both fall into silence, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

You’ve managed to avoid Florence in the past few days. Her burning look has been making you way too nervous, you know she wants to know more about what’s going on between you and Harry, but truth to be told, you have no idea what to tell her.

Yeah, I’m definitely in love with him and we’ve been sharing a bed for a few weeks because he feels lonely alone at night, so he uses me to ease the feeling while I just let him because as I said, I’m in love with the man.

No, you can’t tell her that.

Now there’s only two days left from filming, meaning that only two more nights to spend with Harry and it’s making you a nervous wreck to think about sleeping alone in your bedroom.

You round the corner in the maze of the trailers after a phone call you had with Jeff when you run out of luck and bump right into Florence.

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. Come have lunch with me in my trailer,” she smiles sweetly, grabbing you by your hand so you can’t escape her this time.

“Oh I wanted to call—“

“Do it later,” she simply cuts you off.

Soon, you find yourself in her trailer as she eats her burger while she eyes you with suspicion.

“So, you and Harry sleep together?”

“Well, not like that. We really just sleep in the same bed.”

“Oh, makes perfect sense, sleeping in the same bed as your boss. Very casual.”

“Don’t make it sound so weird,” you frown at her words. You definitely don’t see Harry as your boss. You do work for him, but it never felt like he stands anywhere above you, the two of you have always been equal even before you became close friends.

“You gotta admit it’s pretty unusual,” she points out and you just look away from her. “So let’s talk about how you’re in love with him.”

“What? I never said that!” you protest, but she just gives you a look that says ‘cut the crap, girl’ and you know there’s no use to try to trick her, she sees right through you. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, I have enough shit on my plate without your judgment.”

“Oh, I’m not judging you. I’m just wondering why you two are not together already.”

You practically snort at her statement, finding it quite absurd and ridiculous.

“What? You two are perfect for each other and I’m pretty sure Harry loves you too.”

“Yeah, as a friend.”

“That’s not how friends act, Y/N. He wouldn’t beg himself into your bed every night if he was just your friend.”

“He is just lonely. He doesn’t need me, just someone to be with him.”

“That’s bullshit,” she scoffs. “You two are just being idiots.” Just as you are about to answer, your phone starts ringing. Harry’s smiley face appears on the screen, making you extremely nervous because of the conversation you are having with Florence.

“Hey,” you breathe out answering the call.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Just, talking with Florence. What’s up?”

“I got an email from Jeff and I have some questions.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Thank you Angel,” he hums before ending the call.

“I gotta go. Please don’t… bring any of this up for Harry,” you ask Florence, heading to the exit.

“You’ve gotta sort your shit out. This is not ideal, Y/N.”

“I know it,” you growl under your breath, leaving the trailer. You chew on your bottom lip nervously as you march back to Harry’s trailer. You feel so confused and anxious about this whole situation and the worst thing is that you have no idea what to do about it. Telling him how you feel seems like a stupid idea, but mostly because you’re terrified of rejection. What if it all meant nothing to him? If you were right and he is just lonely and uses you to help himself, it has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t survive the heartbreak it would give you if he told you he doesn’t see you more than just a friend.

As you walk into his trailer he is sitting on the sofa with his phone in his hands. He glances up at you, a warm smile tugging on his lips as you take a deep breath, feeling very much out of place suddenly. Unfortunately, he immediately senses your discomfort.

“Everything alright, Angel?”

Angel. This nickname could make your knees go weak in a heartbeat and you hate how much effect it has on you. Especially in this state of mind you’re currently in.

“I just…” You shake your head shutting your eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that?” you ask, sounding way more desperate than you intended to. Harry puts his phone aside, looking a little puzzled at your sudden weird act, but he seems more worried for you.

“I, uhh—“

“And don’t tell me it’s because Hey Angel is about me. We didn’t know each other back then.”

You have no idea where this is coming from or why you even questioned him about it all of a sudden, but Florence just totally threw you off with what she just said. Harry stares back at you, probably vigorously looking for the reason why you are acting up now, but luckily, he doesn’t try to turn it into a joke as always.

“I call you Angel, because you remind me of the song. It wasn’t written about you, but the lyrics match up with… you.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“I wish I could be more like you, do you wish you could be more like me?” he quotes the song, not singing the words, simply just talking them as he stares back at you. “I see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed, backseat of my car, in the back of my head,” he continues and you feel your throat doing dry just from the way he softly speaks, standing only a few feet away from you. “I come alive when I hear your voice, it’s a beautiful sound, it’s a beautiful noise.”

You never really gave it another thought, but now that he has told you this, it hit you hard in the chest. You weren’t expecting, especially because those lines are rather meaningful, to you at least.

“I thought of it once not long after we first met and thought calling you Angel would suit you. Do you mind it? I can just… stop calling you that if you don’t like it.”

You shake your head. You never want him to stop calling you that even if it’s not that meaningful for him. If it’s just some game. It’s great to know that something reminded him of you.

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Your voice is small, barely more than just a whisper. It’s a little too much at once. Florence’s words are still stuck in your head, and what he just said has felt like he just gripped your heart even if he doesn’t know.

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to come back from this hazy state of mind.

“So, what about that email?”

“You alright?” Reaching forward he takes your hand and you try not to flinch at his touch, just smile at him nodding.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He squeezes your hand before dropping it and he luckily doesn’t ask any more questions.

You stay oddly quiet for the rest of the day and Harry surely knows something is wrong, but he respects you enough not to bug you about it any longer. He just stays close to you as much as he can, trying his best to take your mind off of whatever keeps you occupied.

On the way home you and Harry drop by a supermarket, buy some quick dinner, not wanting to stack the fridge when you’re leaving so soon. Then you sit in the living room, eating and watching some random movie that’s on TV. You snuggle to his side on the couch naturally, he doesn’t even have to pull you close this time. The thought of having left only one more night in the apartment makes you want to sue every little moment you have left in this bubble.

Harry makes you have a shower first tonight and when you come out from the bathroom, your bed is already nicely made, inviting you warmly. He is quick to finish with his shower and joins you in bed barely five minutes later. You move towards each other instantly, his arms curling around your form soothingly as you make yourself comfortable, melted into his embrace. You feel his lips pressing against your forehead and you almost start crying at the small action.

“Angel, I don’t know what has upset you, but I’m here for you, alright? You’re not alone,” he murmurs softly.

“I know,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I would do anything for you, just like you do so much for me. You’ve got me.”

I wish, you think to yourself. You have him, but not the way you’ve been desiring. His hand moves to cup your face as he lifts your head so you are looking into his eyes in the darkened room, but there’s enough light coming through the window that you see his features. He runs his thumb across your cheek, gently caressing your skin and everywhere he touches you, it feels like your body is in flames. This something has been building up inside you and now you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to control yourself. And just as you think about how you really should put some distance between the two of you so you won’t regret it later, the unexpected happens.

Harry pulls you up just enough so when he moves his head he is able to place his lips on yours, kissing you out of the blue. His lips feel so soft, so fitting on your mouth, you let out a whimper when he goes further than just a gentle kiss, taking your bottom lip between his properly. It’s an out of world experience, you’ve imagined it so many times, but you never thought it would actually happen and now that it is very much happening, your whole mind goes blank and for a split second… everything feels right. You kiss him back with fever and with each passing moment the kiss grows more passionate and way hungrier than how it started. Harry’s arm tightens around you, almost pulling you on top of him and you can’t make yourself stop, not that you want to.

With a little force, Harry pushes the two of you around so now you’re lying on the mattress and he holds himself up above you, his lips never disconnecting from yours. He licks into your mouth, pulling and tugging on your lips, making your whole body go weak just for him.

But then, as if reality hit you in the head, you realize what’s happening.

“Harry,” you gasp pulling back, gasping for air. “This—We…”

“Angel, let me take care of you. Please,” he begs out of breath.

“What…”

“I want to make you feel good. I want to take care of you, please let me.” He sounds so desperate, like he would do anything for this and you are not strong enough to deny it from him.

It’s just his pity. He’s been using you for his needs, now he wants to give some back, it’s nothing more, you think to yourself. It can’t be more.

You lack the willpower to make a rational decision, so as you stare up into his eyes that appear so dark due to the lack of proper lighting, you just nod before he leans down and kisses you again.

He holds himself up on one arm while his free hand wanders down your body, touching you at places you have never felt him before. He palms your left breast, squeezing it gently and it makes you moan into his mouth before his hand moves down the curve of your waist until it reaches your sleeping shorts. Your body is burning for him and you can’t stop it from reacting to everything he does. You buckle your hips up when you feel his fingers gently graze along your pubic bone, even though you’re still fully clothed.

“What do you want me to do, Angel? I’ll do anything you want me to,” he pants between kisses as his hand moves to cup your heated core, making you moan again from the sensation of his touch there.

“I need you,” is all you manage to get out.

“I’m right here. You got me. What do you want me to do? Please, tell me, Angel,” he whines, forehead pressed against yours and his hips fall, pressing against your thigh, making you realize how excited he has gotten. His erection is hard under the fabric of his boxers, almost aching to be freed. There’s no way you can take any teasing or a long foreplay. You need him inside you now before you burst.

“Harry, I need you inside me. Please,” you whimper, almost cry, before he kisses you again, hard and demanding as he simply pushes your shorts down, revealing your naked sex since you don’t wear any underwear to bed. You grab the waistband of his boxers too and push it down until he can wiggle his legs out of them, leaving him completely naked in your bed while you still have a top covering your upper body, however he is quick to change that. He grabs the hem and starts pulling it off, your hands helping him so a few moments later you’re completely naked underneath him.

“Fuck, Angel,” he breathes out, his perfect, pink lips attacking the side of your throat, kissing and nibbling on the skin, going down to your breasts, giving the same amount of attention to both while you turn into jelly under his touch. lacing your fingers through his hair you cry out his name as you can feel him leaving a mark on your left breast, his tongue swirling against the spot he just completely destroyed before he brings himself back up so he can kiss you again and again with so much hunger, it’s hard to tell where you end and where he starts. Everything melts together and you’re such a mess in every possible way.

His hand gently reaches down between your legs and parts your shaking thighs before he cups you drenched pussy, his middle finger sliding between your folds, a shameless moan slipping from your mouth, right into his as your lips are still attached.

“So wet, I can’t wait to make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Harry, just… please,” you pant, surely feeling yourself lose the last bits of your nerves.

“D’you have a condom?” he asks, head lifting up a bit so he can look into your eyes.

“I-In my, um, the makeup bag,” you try to explain gesturing towards your dresser where your makeup bag sits on top, two condoms somewhere inside it. Harry pecks your lips before pulling away from you, the lack of his weight on top of you making you shiver.

He digs into the bag until he finds what he’s been looking for, tearing the packaging open with his teeth and he rolls it on while he walks back, not wasting another moment. You cling onto him like a koala bear once he is back in bed, his massive body covering you again.

“Just tell me how you like it, I’ll do anything,” he mumbles against your shivering lips as he pushes the head in first, stopping for a second before the rest of his cock buries inside you, completely taking your breath away. He is bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, filling up every inch of you, your walls stretching around him as he stills once he is all the way inside you.

This is it. This is the moment you’ve imagined oh so many times, feeling him the closest possible, his cock buried inside you, his cheek pressed against yours as he holds himself up on top of you. Years of yearning and endless nights when you imagined your hand was his… and now it’s your reality. And though you know it’s gonna change everything, you can’t tell yourself to stop.

Harry lifts his head, pecking your lips gently, calling you Angel over and over again as he starts moving, the friction between your legs growing with each thrust. He fits inside you so well, you won’t be able to enjoy sex with anyone else now that you’ve experienced it with Harry. All of a sudden, he has become the epitome of your whole life.

“Tell me what you want, Angel. Do you want me to go slow or fast? Tell me how to make you feel good.” His lips brush against yours with each word while you’re just trying to catch your breath, fingers digging into his back, the euphoria building up inside you gradually.

“A little faster,” you breathe out, speaking feels like a hard task at the moment. Harry picks his pace up, finding just the right rhythm that makes you wrap your legs around his waist so he can go even deeper with each thrust he makes.

“Look at me, Angel. Let me see your eyes,” he begs, his hand cupping your cheek. He runs his thumb along the line of your lower lip before he takes it between his lips, tugging on it gently, kissing you like you’re his last breath on Earth. He is devouring you, body melts together with yours, all your senses are strictly focused on him. He is all you see, hear, feel and taste.

Your gaze meets his and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole entire world, it makes your eyes tear up. You want it to be true, you want it to be reality, you want it to be more than just about needs and satisfaction, but it’s not and your consciousness is not letting you believe otherwise.

“Oh Angel,” he softly hums, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of your eye and ran down the side of your face. Keeping up his rhythm he kisses along your jawline, your cheek, your lips, the side of your face, the bridge of your nose, everywhere he can before returning to your lips with a hungry, passion filled kiss.

“Harry…” you whimper, holding your thighs tighter around his waist as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Let it go for me, Angel. I wanna see you feel good, cum for me,” he tells you, eyes never leaving yours as you are ready to burst underneath him.

“Harry, I-I need you!” The words fall from your lips as a desperate beg, arms wrapping around his torso tight, as if he could disappear from your embrace any moment.

“I’m right here, Angel. Right here,” he soothes you, kissing your lips sweetly as proof that he is not just a trick your mind is playing on you. “Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes!” you pant, losing control over your body and all your senses. It’s gonna be intense, you can tell and it hasn’t even started yet, you just know it’ll shake you to the core.

“Good girl. Let me make you feel good.” “So good,” you breathe out before Harry occupies your lips with his once again.

It doesn’t take long. He keeps thrusting in the perfect angle and it throws you right over the edge. Harry demands you look him in the eyes when your orgasm wash you over and the intensity of it all almost makes you cry again. You burst, lose yourself under him, screaming his name as if you were praying to all higher forces. In a way, you are, because for a moment you really think you completely vanish from this world.

Harry follows you just a few more thrusts later, falling out of his rhythm as he grunts and moans your name, face buried into the crook of your neck while you tug on his hair, the feeling of his soft locks between your fingers is like pure heaven.

He stills, but stays inside you as he looks up, his eyes filled with satisfaction and contentment as he cups your face again, kissing you long, taking his time with you.

As you come off your high and the clouds of euphoria clears off, reality sets in more painfully than ever. Your limbs are paralyzed and you feel like you are outside your own body, just watching everything happen as if you were a third person in the room. Harry rolls to the side, chest heaving wildly as he is trying to regulate himself. Once he is able to breathe without panting, he pecks your shoulder gently and makes a quick round to the bathroom. You hear water running and then his feet padding on the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to move, you just lie there, completely drained out. It doesn’t change even when Harry gently cleans you off with a damp washing cloth, throwing it to the side to take care of it in the morning. He pulls the covers over the two of you and scoops you into his arms. You manage to bring your arm up to his chest as your head rests on his shoulder. His fingers are dancing up and down your arm, his steady breathing keeping your overcrowded head grounded. And then… he starts singing so softly, it’s almost just a whisper.

“Hey Angel, oh, I wish I could be more like you. Do you wish you could be more like me?”

Your eyes shut close, the damn tears flooding again, but you keep your sobs drowned in your throat. Instead you force yourself to sleep and hope you live to see the morning, because you feel like your heart is about to give up on you.

When you wake up, you genuinely feel like you’ve drunk through last night and now have the worst hangover. It’s like you’ve been hit on the head with a chair. You slowly come to your senses and realize that you’re completely naked in bed and there’s a body curled to your side, equally naked.

The shock sets in first because you realize, once again, that what happened last night wasn’t just a fever dream, it actually happened. And then you basically jump out of bed when you look at the small digital clock on the bedside and see that the two of you have ten minutes to leave if you don’t want to be late to the last day of filming.

“Harry! Harry get up!” you smack him, kicking the covers off and grabbing your top and shorts from the floor, quickly putting them on. The man in talk growls, just rolling to his back without even opening his eyes. “Harry damn it! We have ten minutes or you’ll be late!” you snap at him and it somewhat wakes him up. With furrowed eyebrows at puckered lips, he lifts his head up and looks around.

Those lips were kissing you last night.

“What?” he mumbles in confusion.

“We overslept, get up. We have… eight minutes left.”

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, finally getting out of bed, reaching for his boxers.

It’s a shitshow as the two of you try to get ready on time and though you are running just a few minutes late, the driver of the taxi manages to speed down the streets fast enough that you arrive to set just in time.

During the whole ride, you feel Harry’s burning eyes on you, but thank God, you get a call from Jeffrey the moment you get into the car and it lasts the whole ride so you don’t have to talk with him about what happened last night.

“Y/N,” he tries when you’re still on the phone and he is already done with hair and makeup, heading to set to start filming.

“What?” you mouth at him.

“Can we talk later?”

“I’m busy. Go, I’m sure they are waiting for you,” you whisper to him and he looks so disappointed, but he nods and walks away. Your heart breaks as you lower the phone. You have been out of the call for some time, just didn’t want to talk to him.

Quite frankly, you’re not ready to talk to him about what happened last night. You don’t want to hear him say that he was just trying to help you out last night, that it wasn’t anything serious, just some messing around. It was just two people trying not to feel lonely.

Walking back into his trailer you can feel your chest tightening, a sharp pain shooting right into your heart the more you think about him. It was a mistake, you shouldn’t have done it because you are the one with the feelings and now you are the one struggling with the consequences of your little get together.

The more you think about it, the worse it gets and you feel like you’re about to suffocate. You need to get out of here, there’s no way you can face him now.

It all happens so fast. Before you can even second guess your decision, you’re on your way back to the apartment to pack all your stuff and get on the first flight back home. You need to put distance between you and him, spending one more night in the same apartment would make you go nuts. So while Harry is filming, completely oblivious to what you’re doing, you pack up your room as fast as possible and head to the airport to hop on the plane that leaves at four pm.

With a racing heart you check all your baggage in and make it through security when Harry first calls you. At first, you want to ignore it, but then you find yourself swiping your thumb across the screen.

“Hey,” you shortly greet him.

“Hey, where are you? Have been looking for you everywhere.” “I um… I’m at the airport,” you answer and the silence on the other end is deafening for a moment.

“You are at the what?” he then snaps.

“I had a, um, kind of emergency, so I’m heading back home now. Sorry, I would have called you, but didn’t know when you’d be off set.”

“You fucking packed and left already? You’re really at the airport?” He is fuming, Raging. You can tell he is pacing in the trailer, vigorously running his fingers through his hair, ruining it without a care. You almost feel guilty, but then again, you just know facing him now would break you. You’ll get back to him when you’ve pulled your shit together.

“I am, calm down, alright? Not a big deal.” “You just left on our last day here without a fucking word! And when am I seeing you again?”

“I, uhh—I need to be home for a while, but you’ll be fine. I’ll stay in touch with you in email and text.”

“Fucking text? Email?” he is barking now. Good thing you are not there because it would be a disaster. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. We-we were supposed to talk. You can’t just fucking disappear like this.”

“We’ll talk, alright?”

“When?”

“Later,” you simply tell him at a loss for a better answer. Hopefully, never, you think to yourself, but don’t say it out loud.

“Okay, you’re not doing this. Don’t you dare get on a plane, I’m going to the airport right now. You’re not leaving.”

“Well, I am and you’re not coming here,” you clap back, but you can already hear him moving around, probably gathering his stuff so he can leave right away.

“Swear to God if you get on that plane, I’m—“ He cuts himself off, no idea what to really say and you just sigh, closing your eyes. People rush by you and as you glance at the big screen you see that your plane is boarding.

“Harry, just… it’ll be better like this, alright? You’ll be fine, I’ll see you… when I see you. Have fun on your last day on set.”

You end the call before he could get another word out and put it on airplane mode right away as you grab your backpack and head to your gate.

Using your time on the plane wisely, you put together a very detailed schedule for Harry so he knows everything about his next few weeks and you can minimize your contact with him. You even set up a bunch of reminders in his calendar so he won’t miss his appointments.

When you set feet on the ground again, you expect the distance between you and Harry to feel comforting and freeing, but it’s the opposite. An ache in your chest is getting heavier as you get yourself a taxi and head home, feeling more alone than ever in your life.

Your home doesn’t feel like a home. Not without that one person who could make any place your home, but you can’t see him right now, not until you learn how to exist around him without the urge to faint.

Going to bed alone is pure torture. Every moment you are waiting to hear Harry shuffling around in the apartment, you miss his little snorts when he is watching the TV, his singing coming from the shower, but most importantly, you miss having him so close to you in bed. Now that you’re lying on your own, your bed feels so cold, it brings you tears as reality sets in. You miss him. You miss him more than anything and you can’t imagine a time when it won’t hurt anymore.

The crying pushes you into a shallow slumber sometime in the middle of the night, however, you’re rudely shaken back to consciousness when you hear someone banging on your door like crazy, pushing the doorbell constantly.

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble with a grimace, pulling a hoodie on as you make your way to the door hazily, probably still half asleep because you open the door without checking who it is through the peephole and you end up staring up at none other than Harry. “What the—What are you doing here?” you breathe out, panic sets in fast and your hands start shaking at the sight of him.

Harry steps inside without invitation and closes the door behind him, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“Y/N, what the fuck were you thinking when you left like that?”

“I-I told you, it was an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency? Because I called your mom and sisters, they all said nothing happened in the family, so what could possibly happen that needed you here immediately?”

“I don’t have to explain shit to you.” Shaking your head you try to step back to put some distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t let you, taking a step forward at the same time.

“Well I think we have a lot to talk about after last night, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you shake your head biting into your bottom lip. This wasn’t supposed to happen, why couldn’t he just stay where he was? “How did you even get here so fast?”

“Left as soon as we wrapped.”

“Where are all your stuff?”

“Left everything there, I’ll just go back and pack it up, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that for a girl who genuinely hates any form of working out, you ran pretty fast from you today.”

Any other day you would have laughed at his comparison, but not today. You just stand there, chewing on the inside of your cheeks as you try to figure out what to do or say. You were not ready to face him so soon.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask desperately, throwing your hands into the air.

“Tell me what it meant for you,” he calmly answers and you want to shake him. How is he so peaceful?

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m not doing this to myself, okay? I need time, Harry.”

“For what?”

“So I can get myself over this, alright? I need time, I—fuck this,” you growl, feeling the tears flooding your eyes again. Damn it!

“Why the fuck do you want to get yourself over it?”

“Because it obviously didn’t mean the same thing to me as it meant to you!” you snap at him and he raises his eyebrows at you in a way that tells you “you’re stupid”.

“What do you think it meant to me?”

“Probably nothing,” you scoff rolling your eyes, but the anger that bursts from him quickly washes your attitude away.

“Fucking nothing? You think I would get on a fucking plane first thing after filming for ten hours straight just to come after you? You think I spent all my nights with you these past weeks because you mean nothing to me? You know, for a smart girl, you can be pretty dumb sometimes.”

You blink at him in utter confusion, his words knocked you off your feet. He exhales sharply, long fingers running through his messy curls as he tries his best to calm himself down. When he is finally breathing somewhat normally his wildly vibrant green eyes meet your widened stare.

“Y/N, I thought we were on the same page. What did you think it was all about?” he softly asks, seeing how shook you still are.

“I, uhh—I thought this was all just some kind of distraction. You said you were feeling lonely, I thought you were just… kind of using me. And then last night was you returning the favor.”

“Hell no,” he breathes out shaking his head as he steps closer and this time you don’t back away from him. You let his hands run down your arms until they find your hands. “I thought this was clear, but I’m gonna say it then. I’m in love with you, Y/N, have been for a long time, I was just being a pussy and didn’t know how you’d take it. But then, when you didn’t kick me out of your bed the first night we slept together, it got me hoping and it was all heading just the right direction. Then last night happened and I was so damn sure this would be our turning point but then…” He breathes out shakily again, as if the thought still upsets him. “When I called you and you said you were at the airport… I love you, Angel, but I was ready to murder you.”

You let out a faint chuckle, feeling the tears bubbling in your eyes.

“Why did you run away instead of talking to me? Did you not trust me?” he asks softly, a hand coming up to cup your jaw gently.

“I didn’t trust myself,” you admit weakly.

“Oh Angel…” Leaning down he kisses your forehead tenderly, his lips feel like soft feathers against your hot skin. “Do you need me to tell you again how in love I am with you or are you gonna believe me? You’re not planning to run away again, are you?” he teases you making you chuckle as you shake your head.

“I’m not gonna run away, but I would love to hear you say you love me again.”

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Angel, don’t you ever think otherwise for a moment, okay?”

You nod, lips curling into your mouth as your teary eyes meet his green orbs.

“I love you too, Harry.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” he chuckles breathing out in relief and it makes you smile. “I would never just use you. Love you way too much for that, Angel. You are everything to me.”

“Wish I knew that earlier,” you mumble with a bitter chuckle. It would have saved you a lot of tears.

“I will never stop saying it to you.” His forehead rests against yours, noses touching as his arms curl around your frame, pulling you close to him until you’re pressed up against his hard chest. “Just out of curiosity, what were you thinking when I told you, you reminded me of Hey Angel? Because I think it pretty much gave me away, but apparently, I was wrong,” he chuckles lowly, pulling back a little so he can look you in the eyes.

“I honestly have no idea,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. “I just had a conversation with Florence before that where she called me out about my feelings for you and I was still kind of in shock. Probably took it as just your usual flirty behavior.”

“I’ll admit I do flirt some, but haven’t you realized it’s different with you?”

“I guess not.” “Angel, you are… something else,” he chuckles in disbelief before leaning down he finally presses his lips against yours. You giggle into his lips, arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you up from the ground, twirling you around, a squeal slipping from your mouth.

“So, now you have to go back to pack your stuff?” you question, still wrapped into his arms completely and you don’t want to exist any other way. This is where you belong.

“Yeah. Had to chase down this Angel who thought she could run away from me.”

“So how are you planning to get to New York by four tomorrow when you’re still here and have to go back to pack? Have you checked the schedule I sent you? You’re not gonna make it.” You cock your head to the side with an arched brow.

“Did you just go back to full assistant mode right after we confessed our love for each other?”

“Someone has to be responsible and we both know it’s always me.”

“I’ll just hire someone to do it for me, I’ll leave to New York from here. Happy?” he grins at you as you nod.

“Very. Because this means you can stay the night here.”

“Seeing the fact that I literally have nowhere else to go, because even my house keys are in the suitcase I left back… I very much need to stay here for the night,” he points out.

“Good. Come on, my bed felt empty without you,” you giggle, pulling him towards your bedroom and he follows you eagerly.

“I can definitely help that.”

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles x pa!reader #harry styles x personalassistant!reader

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warriorsfireandwater · 3 years

Text

Warriors Analysis 2: A Breakdown of the Crow/Night/Breeze Family Dynamic

I said I would do it, so here we are. The big doozy. For this one, I’m going to putting all of the sourced scenes in a linked google doc, because I just don’t want to make this post a million miles long. Instead, for this post, I will sum up all of the conclusions made after reviewing every scene involving the family from Po3 through OotS, with other relevant information from other books included.

Context of this one: I’ve watched (and participated in) a lot of debate over this family. Just about every single argument I’ve seen tends to:

1) rely on a person’s opinion of a character overall to how they feel about the family (”I found Nightcloud annoying” often goes along with “Nightcloud is equally bad of a parent” or “Breezepelt was a bad person so I don’t sympathize with him in the family situation”)

2) misremember canon

3) rely on a person’s headcanons of what actually happened to shape their judgement of the family (”Nightcloud spoiled Breezepelt and told him Crowfeather is bad” when there are zero canon scenes of this happening)

Some ground rules: I’m relying on breaking down the canon scenes in the books. I am NOT inserting my own thoughts or beliefs as to what happened behind the scenes. If there’s anything bordering on that (”this behavior implies X”), it’ll be clearly stated that it’s an interpretation. I ask that if you want to comment or debate this analysis that you do the same. People’s headcanons shaping how they remember the family is the thing that frustrated me enough to spend hours digging this up. As a personal request, please don’t use this post to say “Nightcloud still sucks and I hate her”/”Breezepelt still sucks and I hate him”/”neglect isn’t abuse” - the latter is definitively incorrect and is upsetting to hear as a survivor of abuse. “X character still is bad” just takes away from the point of this - which is not to say “Breezepelt is a good person”, but PURELY to breakdown the family dynamic. With that out of the way, let’s GO:

After looking at literally every scene involving Breezepelt, Crowfeather, and Nightcloud and analyzing the ones that involve or mention them as a family, here’s some key points. The scenes that back these points up are included and detailed in this doc.

Breezepaw is introduced to us as a bit aggressive and rude, and his mentor, Whitetail, wishes to Crowfeather that she would teach him manners (earning her no response from him)

We first properly see Nightcloud during the dog attack in The Sight, when Breezepaw returns from checking the barrier. Breezepaw reports that there is no damage, and Crowfeather immediately questions if he actually checked all the way around. Breezepaw tells him “Of course!”, and Nightcloud says that Crowfeather should trust his son more.

This suggests Nightcloud is ready to defend Breezepaw whenever. However, as ThunderClan is leaving, Breezepaw mutters that WindClan can manage on their own. Nightcloud immediately scolds him and compliments Lionpaw for saving Heatherpaw during the battle.

Later, at the daylight Gathering, Lionpaw and Breezepaw are buried underground. Crowfeather and Nightcloud help dig them out, and Breezepaw is not breathing when he comes out. Jaypaw has to pull dirt out of his throat to save his life.

Leafpool says to Crowfeather that she would “give [her] last drop of blood to save [his kit]”. Nightcloud sharply retorts that “our kit was lucky that Jaypaw was here”.

Nightcloud carries Breezepaw away from the scene “like a kit”. Crowfeather offers to help, but she carries him on her own. She does not push him away/force him away/shout at him, she literally just chooses to carry him. Nightcloud spends the rest of the daylight Gathering curled around Lionpaw and Breezepaw and keeping them resting.

We learn these things from the Sight: Breezepaw and Crowfeather seem to have a tense relationship, but that isn’t fully developed. Nightcloud is willing to defend him from Crowfeather’s doubts, but notably does not defend him when he acts like a punk in front of her. She is bothered by Leafpool’s comment about giving her life for Breezepaw (which I personally find pretty reasonable to be bothered by), but counters by giving her gratitude to Jaypaw. She wants to carry Breezepaw after he nearly dies, but isn’t pushing Crowfeather away or denying him anything like many people claim.

In Dark River, Crowfeather encourages Breezepaw’s bias against ThunderClan, telling him that they “celebrate mixed blood” in a tone that implies it as a negative thing. (It seems implied he does this to get to Leafpool, who is upset by his comment.)

Jaypaw is able to feel Nightcloud’s jealous emotions on a few occasions, but she actually never says anything to Leafpool or Crowfeather about it.

In Outcast, Crowfeather is called to go on the journey to the Tribe. Onestar tells him to take Breezepaw, who has gotten in trouble a few times. Breezepaw makes it very plain he doesn’t want to go and worries that his Clanmates are just trying to get rid of him. Crowfeather wants to go, but “sighs” over the idea of taking Breezepaw. To me, he comes off as disinterested and possibly disappointed that he has to bring him. Crowfeather snaps at Breezepaw for asking to say goodbye to his friends, saying “There isn’t time!” even though literally no one is rushing them to leave. Nightcloud comes to say goodbye, but Crowfeather is distant and doesn’t respond to her.

Throughout Outcast, each POV character has at least one (if not many) moments where they think about Crowfeather/Breezepaw and feel pity for Breezepaw, despite really hating him. Hollypaw especially thinks often about how she appreciates Brambleclaw for encouraging and supporting her, and the apprentices all seem to realize that Breezepaw is angry because his father “doesnt seem to like him”.

When questioning why they have to help the tribe, Crowfeather just tells Breezepaw “You’ll never understand loyalty.”

When they run into Purdy, Breezepaw is pretty rude to him. Crowfeather doesn’t interrupt a single time throughout multiple insults, then reacts by hitting him across the ear without saying anything, which is noted as “a hard blow”.

Breezepaw nearly dies falling off into a ravine after thinking he’s discovered a faster way. Crowfeather pulls him back and snaps at him, expressing no concern for his life. In Eclipse, Crowfeather pointedly does not compliment Breezepaw’s catch of the rabbit, which angers Breezepaw.

During the reveal of Leaf/Crow in the last book, Breezepelt and Nightcloud stand by Crow’s side and don’t publicly turn on him or say anything against him.

This journey gives us a lot of insight into Crow and Breeze’s dynamic. Breezepaw is pretty obviously a little punk throughout this book, but Crowfeather has no healthy way of communicating with him or discipling him. Instead, he snaps at him, hits him, or ignores him, all of which just feeds into Breezepaw’s anger. Nightcloud is not present for any of this and has no way of controlling their interactions here, which could have been a perfect opportunity for Crowfeather to build a relationship with his son if it were true that Night had prevented this.

Breezepelt shows up in Fading Echoes, training in the Dark forest. A few things are made explicit: he is being manipulated by the Dark Forest and Tigerstar’s words have an almost hypnotic effect on him. The cats present egg him on against Crowfeather, feeding into his belief that Crow does not value him. (Side note, I find it really interesting that in this book, Breezepelt has notable value in the warrior code [which encourages his hate towards Crow] and the DF cats encourage this, saying it is “strong” in his blood. Next time we see him, though, he wants to destroy it.)

Flametail randomly thinks about Breezepelt’s family while spending time with Tawnypelt, feeling glad he has nicer kin.

We get the infamous scene where Lion and Breeze fight. Breeze and Crow were both trespassing on ThunderClan territory and Lion caught the prey Breezepelt was about to catch. He intentionally eggs Breezepelt into a fight (rather than just attacking him himself). Leafpool interrupts, asking how Crow can watch this. Nightcloud then shows up and insists Crowfeather has only one son. Leafpool jumps in between them as Breezepelt is leaping for Lionblaze, and she gets clawed. Crowfeather hauls him off and throws him aside, then keeps talking to Leafpool, who tells him she loved him.

Nightcloud then comes over and pulls Crowfeather away from Leafpool. She sinks her claws into his pelt to do this. However, it’s worth noting that this scene contains MANY references to blood every time claws come out - she does not draw blood and he does not express any signal of pain. It’s likely she used her claws only as a means of holding onto him, not to cause him harm. Crowfeather turns on him, and Breezepelt wails before getting between them, telling Crowfeather to leave his mother alone.

Nightcloud doesn’t react rationally in this scene - but neither does any character. Lionblaze is an ass, Breezepelt is an ass, Crowfeather is an ass, and Leafpool is still walking around making declarations of her former love in front of Crowfeather’s wife.

Nightcloud is one of the cats to react rudely to Hollyleaf’s return, but she doesn’t directly attack/challenge her. (This is actually the last time we see Nightcloud.)

The final meaningful scene is in The Last Hope, when Breezepelt fights Lionblaze. Crowfeather intervenes and says he will not allow Breezepelt to hurt him. Breezepelt retorts he always knew Crowfeather hated him, which Crow denies.

“I never hated you!” Crowfeather growled. “That’s just what you were determined to believe. And Nightcloud encouraged you.”

“It’s not her fault!” Breezepelt spat.

“No,” Crowfeather hissed. “I should have done something much earlier...”

This is the first and only time this is blamed on Nightcloud. This is the only indication we have that this could be true.

Some other notable things:

Crowfeather took Nightcloud as a mate to prove his loyalty, not out of love. (This is said in After Sunset: We need to talk)

The Ultimate Guide also confirms the above, but is a questionable source given the many errors included in it. It states that Crowfeather resents Nightcloud (for not being Leafpool), and that Nightcloud coddled Breezepelt. However, the latter is never shown in the story (and the opposite is actually shown when she scolds him).

In Crowfeather’s Trial, Crowfeather is pushed to recognize his anger towards his son and apologize for his behavior towards him and Nightcloud. Even in an entire book from Crow’s perspective (which provides opportunity for memories, flashbacks, etc), there is no indication that Nightcloud actually pushed Breezepelt to hate Crowfeather. There’s a throwaway mention that Crowfeather was too strict or too rough with Breezepelt as a kit, but it’s never actually said that Nightcloud told him this/kept him away/etc. (IE: it’s impossible to say if Nightcloud screamed this at him or asked him once to be gentle. We just don’t know!)

With all this said, here’s my take on the dynamic:

Crowfeather was a neglectful father and an inconsiderate mate. The only scene we get where he seems to actually get along with Breezepaw is when he is encouraging him to dislike ThunderClan by feeding into hatred for “mixed blood” cats. In all other scenes, he: 1) ignores his bad behavior, 2) is unnecessarily harsh to him or dismissive of him, 3) questions and undermines him, 4) does not have healthy ways of addressing his poor behavior (IE, he ignores and turns away from him rather than discussing it when all the apprentices are in trouble and the other warriors are scolding them, he flat-out hits Breezepaw at one point after saying nothing to intervene in his rudeness), and 5) blames Nightcloud for their bad relationship. Crowfeather is provided plenty of opportunities to interact with Breezepaw while Nightcloud isn’t present (in fact, Nightcloud shows up very little - most scenes of the family have just Breeze and Crow, there are many books where Nightcloud isn’t even mentioned).

Nightcloud was literally just being a normal mom and was often pushed to feeling jealous around Leafpool, often because Leafpool doesn’t have any boundaries around hinting about loving Crowfeather for some reason. I was actually really shocked by how... absolutely fuckin brazen Leafpool is 24/7 about waltzing up to Crowfeather while his wife is standing right there and going “just so you know......... i miss you........... i’d give my life for you......” It’s just WEIRD. IMO, it’s pretty damn reasonable for that to make Nightcloud irritated! Most of the time, she never actually voices her jealousy, we just know about it because of Jaypaw’s ability. When she does, it’s sometimes done by complimenting someone else or giving credit to another cat, like when Jaypaw saves Breezepaw. There is zero text in the story supporting the idea that Nightcloud was overbearing or that she spoiled him: we have TWO SCENES where she has character moments around this. In the first, she is defending him from Crowfeather’s doubt, and in the second, she is scolding him for being ungrateful to ThunderClan for their help.

Breezepelt was a kid that grew up feeling unloved, unappreciated, and angry and resentful as a result. The Dark Forest, not Nightcloud, fed into this belief, but we also have a whole lot of scenes that show why that feeling of resentment towards Crowfeather is there to begin with.

The final hot take: If you believe Nightcloud ‘spoiled’ Breezepelt or that she was ‘overbearing and possessive’, you need to reread Po3 and OotS. It’s just not there.

(Bonus: I love Leafpool but god, girl, you need to read a room.)

#warrior cats #warrior cats analysis #crowfeather #breezepelt #nightcloud

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67impalaandwhisky · 3 years

Text

Get Some Rest

Daryl Dixon x Wife

Rating: 18+

Chapter 7.

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Blood, Death, Walker Bites, Smut, Impreg Kink, Pregnancy Sex, Fluff, Angst

Warnings For This Chapter: Protective!Daryl, Domesticity

Daryl stands on the porch of your home, watching Nicholas approach you with a smile and he rolls his eyes at the sight.

The man has been trying to get into your pants the second you stepped foot into this gated community and he's starting to get sick of it.

You're pregnant with his fucking baby for God's sake but it's clearly not deterring the preppy supply runner.

You're not a fan of him, this your husband knows after finding out he tried to kill Glenn out in the forest when you first arrived.

"Baby," Daryl calls, tossing his cigarette away.

Both you and Nicholas turn your attention to him and his eyes narrow sharply at the younger man.

Your smile makes your husband calm in an instant but it doesn't stop him from claiming what's his.

"It's hot out here, why don't you and my baby come inside?" Daryl calls to you.

With a polite smile and a shrug you leave Nicholas on his own but only after placing an unripe tomato in his hand.

Daryl wraps his arm around your shoulder when you're close enough and his lips press into your hair sweetly.

"He tries anythin' again, I'ma put an arrow between his eyes and call him roadkill." he hisses, smacking your backside and opening up the front door.

"How was patrol?" you inquire, setting down the basket of vegetables onto the island counter.

"Uneventful. Just how you like it, how was food duty?" he inquires, picking through the fresh produce.

Your eyes light up and you pull his red handkerchief out of your back pocket carefully.

There's small black beads that your husband raises an eyebrow at.

"Rat shit?" he asks, as you set it down carefully on the counter.

You roll your eyes at him, pointing at the hard earned spoils of your newest plant. "It's black peppercorns. Jesus," you laugh.

"What about salt? You wanted to try to get that," your husband prods, happy to see your beaming smile.

"Abraham found a lake a little far east so he and Eugene are going to grab some buckets for us soon. Then we'll begin evaporation."

"Oh yeah, talk some more dirty science to me" Daryl quips, kissing your temple.

Snorting softly, you turn to him.

"What happens after evaporation?"

"Then we lay it out and let it dry." you murmur, giggling when he kisses down your neck.

"Hot. And then?"

"Then we'll break up any big pieces," you coo, running your hands over his arms.

"Mhm, then what?"

"Then you put it on food and consume it."

Daryl nips at your collarbone, dipping his hands beneath the hem of your shirt. "I'm gonna consume you in a minute," he breathes, lifting your shirt.

You giggle gently, letting your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his lips.

Your husband is about to tug down the cups of your bra when a knock comes at the door.

"Fuckin' a." he grumbles, pulling away from you and fixing his erection.

With a huff, he walks over to the door. Opening it, he's surprised to see Carol with a casserole dish in her hands.

"You're interruptin' somethin’," Daryl murmurs, pulling back the plastic wrap on the casserole dish.

"It's not for you, it's for the Undermyers." Carol hisses, slapping his hand.

"I don't want that shit, I hate tuna," he replies, putting his crossbow by the couch.

"Lighten up, Pookie. At least you don't have to make casseroles for people when someone gets a cold," she quips, kissing your cheek as a hello.

"Nice sweater vest, C." you snort, taking the get well card from her fingers and grabbing a pen.

"I'll have you know that Tobin said it was very becoming," she hisses into your ear with a laugh.

"It looks like you ripped it off the armchair from an old folks home," Daryl muses, jogging away laughing when she throws a carrot at him from the basket.

After signing the card for both you and your husband, you hand it back to her with your hand on your hip.

"How you doin'? You okay?" she inquires.

You nod in agreement, looking down the hallway when you hear the shower turn on.

"The baby turned head down last night, I didn't wanna tell Daryl-"

"Cause he'll get worried. I get it. The man is fearless and fearful all at once," she murmurs, placing the card atop the casserole.

"How are you, invisible superwoman?" you inquire, pulling out some vegetables to begin dinner.

"The same as usual, being super unnoticed and being too prepared for nothing," Carol whispers, shaking her head.

"Never too prepared. Remember the Wolves," you murmur, turning on the water and throwing the produce in the sink.

The older woman rolls her eyes. "Prick bastards… Alright, let me go give my tuna casserole."

"Give them the big Peletier smile we all know and love!" you quip, earning a middle finger and a laugh from your friend as she leaves your house.

You find something calming about creating dinner in a large house that's only inhabited by you and your husband. Back when life was just tedious and boring, you would have never been able to afford such an incredible home.

But you really had a second chance at living all over again when the apocalypse came about. Yeah, it was frightening and it took a lot to overcome your fears but once you were able to just flip that switch in your head… your new life became better than your old life.

You have a family now, a true family even if they're not blood. And you met the love of your life, which is hard to find normally, now imagine it at the end of the world.

When you start cutting the vegetables, you find comfort in the silence. You can hear kids laughing and playing outside and it makes you forget for a moment what type of world this is…

Although your whole family can agree, getting too comfortable is never a good thing.

Gripping the knife tighter, you chop the vegetables faster.

"Calm down, master chef." Daryl quips, grabbing a beer.

He hops onto the island beside you, leaning back on his elbows with a smirk.

"I heard you telling Carol that the baby flipped over," he muses, combing his wet hair back.

"Yeah, they're getting ready to come out," you breathe.

"Is that why you're holdin' that knife so tightly? Cause you're scared?" he inquires softly, putting the glass bottle to the lip of the island and smacking it down to relieve the cap from the neck.

"How many times have I told you not to do that?! You're gonna crack the marble!" you hiss, setting down your knife.

Daryl raises his eyebrows, watching how your hands quiver.

"Whoa, baby," he mumbles, hopping off the counter and putting his hands on your cheeks.

"I've told you time and time again to j-just not do it!" you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Okay, I'm sorry, hmm? I'm sorry. Shh," he whispers, pulling you into a comforting embrace.

He can feel your heart hammering quickly and he kisses the top of your head softly.

"I'm scared for the baby to come too, y'know. You aren't alone," he promises, putting his chin atop your head.

"I'm sorry, Daryl. I don't care about the fucking countertop, I'm just…-"

"Scared. I know. Me too, although if you say it out in public I'll deny it until I'm blue in the face," he whispers in your ear, kissing the shell sweetly.

You can only smirk at his words, there's no one greater than Daryl Dixon to sweep all negative emotions under an incredibly fluffy rug.

"You keep cookin' and I'll continue my story for the baby, how 'bout that?" he suggests, running a hand over your back.

With a small nod, you pick up the knife once more.

Jumping back onto the island countertop, he picks up right where he left off. "After that incredible first night with your mama, we wanted to stay for a little while longer but when Rick and Michonne went exploring they found a sign by the train tracks…"

"What's a 'Terminus'?" you inquire, passing back the large can of pudding to Carl.

"It says salvation. Those who arrive, survive." Rick repeats, remembering the poster.

"Sounds too good to be true," Daryl murmurs, tossing his empty can of corn into the trash.

"But what if it's not? What if the others from the prison found the sign too and they went," Carl inquires, digging his spoon into the almost empty can.

All of the adults share a look and you only shrug when your boyfriend trains his sights on you.

"We can go. We'll scout the area for a while and then we'll see if we want to go in," Rick decides, nodding to his son.

"Holy shit!" Daryl yelps and you turn your head to what he's surprised by.

A big cougar sits outside the patio door with a leash around its neck. It looks frightened and completely disoriented and you whine at the sight.

"Y-Y/N? Do something about it!" Michonne squeaks, putting her hand to her katana.

"You worked in a zoo before this right?" Carl asks, widening his eyes at the large cat.

"I was a wildlife conservationist, yeah. Michonne, take your hand off the sword. No fucking weapons," you hiss, approaching the glass door.

"Who is this woman?" Daryl mumbles, keeping his hand on his knife.

"Hey there, you're pretty scared, huh big boy?" you coo, looking down at the tattered leash.

The way the cougar is looking at you makes your eyes burn. You can't imagine how fast and how often this boy has to run everyday to get away from walkers.

Swallowing thickly, you can only hope that the cougar has been trained a moderate amount. Of course, it's a wild animal at heart but since it's been brought up at a zoo, you just pray for some training.

The rest of your group probably doesn't understand animals like you've been trained in the past to do so you can understand their timidness.

"Do not, I mean this, do not make any loud noises or movements. Just be still," you tell them strictly, tilting your head to look back at them.

"Give me the squirrel," you instruct your boyfriend.

He widens his eyes, frowning at the prospect of giving away the only thing he's killed this morning on the roof.

"It's you or the squirrel," you deadpan, holding out your hand.

Daryl nods after a moment, handing you the squirrel.

Opening up the glass patio door, you smile down at the big cat.

"Hey, big boy. I bet you're really hungry, huh? The walkers eat everything you could." you whisper, leaning against the doorframe.

The cougar stares at the squirrel in your hand, chirping and purring at the sight.

"Let's see how trained you are, huh?" you murmur, holding the dead animal up.

"Whoa," Carl mumbles and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Walk on," you say strictly, moving to the other side.

Holding your hand up, his paw reaches up to the screen door and you nod.

You do a few more exercises before you understand that this cougar is probably as domestic as they come.

"Huh," you whisper, opening up the screen door slightly and holding up the squirrel. "Easy now."

The cat jumps up to grab it and you smile when it lays down on the deck.

"Pretty calm cat," you remark, closing the screen back up.

Turning back to the group, you clap your hands. "Let's go to Terminus," you announce.

"That was really beautiful," Michonne whispers in your ear as you put on your backpack.

"It's weird to feel my old self just taking up space at the forefront of my brain even for a moment," you reply, grabbing your sniper rifle.

"That was special," Daryl whispers, kissing your forehead. "You looked so comfortable, it's nice to see that."

With a small smile, you make your way out the door with your group as you head toward the train tracks.

"I'm surprised you weren't frightened," you muse, throwing the carrots into the pot.

"Scared of what? I wanted to make that thing dinner," Daryl chirps.

Grimacing at his words, you scoff. "Don't you fucking dare."

"I miss Salve too, baby. I'm just kiddin'." he whispers, handing you a peeled potato.

"Cougar's followin' us," Daryl announces, holding out his hand for you to climb over the train track.

Turning your head to the big cat, you smile widely.

"Wanna come up here with us? You're more than welcome!" you coo sweetly, tapping your thigh.

"It's so cool," Carl hisses happily.

You can tell how much this pleases Rick, Carl isn't just a normal kid these days anymore, he's an adult now who's more than ready for any threat.

It's nice to see him act his age when you can.

"Up," you instruct, tapping your back.

You can hear the sounds of running paws and you stop with a smile. The cougar stretches upward, putting his paws over your shoulders and nuzzling the back of your head with his large face.

"Oh my God, you're insane," Daryl gasps.

"Can I name him? Can we keep him?!" Carl begs, petting his back softly.

You look over at Rick who in turn looks to Michonne who in turn looks to your boyfriend.

"We can keep him, but he is a wild animal, okay? If he attacks one of us he'll have to be put down and if he runs away then that's okay too. This is his environment out here and with the walkers I wouldn't be surprised if he spooks easily," you inform him.

Rick nods in agreement, smirking at how his son's face lights up.

"Come on, Salve!" he cheers.

The maternal smile you wear makes Daryl stop short. You're such a complete vision.

He knew from the second you showed back up at the prison that he wanted to spend the rest of his dead killing days with you. Last night was just a definitive add-on.

"I see some buildings up ahead, we'll rest up there for the night and then tomorrow we'll finish up the big hike to Terminus." Rick announces.

"Daryl," you call.

"Yeah, baby?" he inquires.

"Ooh, baby?!" Michonne repeats sweetly, hooking her arm in yours.

"Try to kill a few animals," you tell him, nudging your friend with your hip playfully.

"We have food," the leader states.

"It's for Salve, right Y/N?" Carl asks, walking back with the leash in hand.

"Bingo, kid. Nice wrangling, he must like you," you quip, shrugging at Rick.

"Now teach it how to sit and shit outdoors," your boyfriend suggests, firing an arrow at a rabbit.

It doesn't take long to hole up into a large highrise building that's empty, all the doors and windows were locked as soon as you all got to it and it's high up to be able to see everything from above.

"Salve, come on!" Carl coos, laying down.

Daryl checks all the windows and entrances just in case and his eyes light up when he spots a shop down the abandoned street.

"I'll be right back," he calls to you all.

"Where are you going?" you inquire, cutting a rabbit in half and giving it to the cougar.

"Need to get some supplies, I won't be long," he promises, kissing your temple.

"I'll go with you," Michonne announces, setting down her bag and nodding to him.

Sounds like music to your boyfriend's ears. He's already starting to sweat bullets just thinking about stepping into the shop down the road.

"Come on then," Daryl breathes, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.

You and Rick make eye contact and there's silent conversation going on.

What is Daryl up to?

Did you see how nervous he was?

What kind of shop is he heading to?

Both of you shrug at once before turning your attention to Carl and his new cat friend.

"So where're we going?" Michonne muses, looking over at your boyfriend.

He pulls out his last cigarette, staring straight ahead at the seemingly untouched jewelry store. He points at it before lighting his cigarette and ignoring the wide eyed stare of one of your best friends.

"Just jewelry or… something more?" Michonne teases, walking in stride with him.

"Somethin' more," your boyfriend mumbles.

"That's really great, Daryl. Whatever you get she's gonna love it."

He sighs softly, scratching at his head. "I just want her to know that I care… even if we live everyday like it's our last."

"You've changed so much since I first met you," she muses, pulling out her katana and slicing a rogue walker.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grumbles, stepping onto the sidewalk to open the jewelry store door.

"I didn't know that Michonne helped you pick out my ring," you interrupt, putting dinner on the table.

"I didn't really need her help in the end, I busted open the safe and took the biggest ring in your size," your husband says with a wry smirk.

"What was the price tag on it?" you inquire playfully, sitting down and happily sighing that you're off your feet.

"More than a redneck could ever afford." Daryl jokes, kissing the top of your head and sitting down beside you.

"Finish the story later, eat first." you instruct, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Yes ma'am," he whispers, digging into his food.

Next Chapter ------>

Get Some Rest Taglist: @howlerwolfmax, @dunixxd, @daryldixonstorm, @shawtygonemad, @riverscyberwife, @gnocchey, @fuseburner, @lightning-butterfly, @inthewindsomeho,@rayneill

#daryl x you #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl smut #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd daryl #gsr

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cuquitalocita · 3 years

Text

a new addition- rowaelin

AN: okay, a bunch of you guys asked for a part two to this fic so here it is! it’s longer than i meant for it to be and it’s not my favorite but i hope you guys like it- by the way the name eliora is not mine originally- i can’t remember who used it but it was not me so feel free to tag people if you know :)

part one

“And then what?” Her voice was eager.

Aelin shrugged, her lips tilting up into a small smile as she gazed at the green eyes across from her. “Then he kissed me.” Being completely honest, Aelin could remember the kiss as if it was yesterday. Could still feel his hard body pressed against hers and the fading taste of alcohol on his lips.

“Bullshit,” a voice scoffed from behind her. Aelin whirled to face the matching turquoise eyes and she arched a brow, causing him to visibly swallow.

“Excuse you? As far as I recall, I don’t remember you being there.”

Her son shook his head, plopping down on the open area of the couch beside her and taking her feet into his lap. “I didn’t need to be,” he shrugged. “You and Dad tell the story often enough. Everyone knows that you-”

He was cut off as Eliora’s hand slapped over his mouth. “No spoiling, Sammy! I wanna hear the story!” Aelin laughed at her six-year-old and pulled her onto her lap, kissing her cheek as she did so. She gazed at Eliora for a moment; she truly was a beautiful child, even if Aelin was a little bias.

“That’s right, Eliora,” Aelin grinned at her daughter. “And what did we say about spoiling?”

“Don’t do it,” she replied definitively with a firm shake of her head. Aelin couldn’t help but squeeze Eliora a bit tighter as she opened her mouth to continue the story. Her mouth closed as another body entered the living room.

“What are we doing?” Nehemia asked, coming to sit by her twin on the couch. Shoulder to shoulder, Aelin’s eyes stared back at her. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Mama’s telling me a love story,” Eliora gushed to her sister, her green eyes alight with childlike excitement. “The greatest of all time!”

Nehemia gazed at Eliora with pure love, even as she leaned over to whisper something in her brother’s ear. Aelin was just able to hear, “She’s telling it again, huh?”

“I told you we should have gone to Aunt Lys’s house,” was her son’s muttered response. Nehemia snorted, leaning back over the couch until she was eye to eye with Eliora.

“Greatest of all time, huh? Must be a good one.” Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint Aelin could only credit to herself.

“It is,” Aelin finally cut in. “And if you would stop interrupting, I would be able to finish it.”

The sixteen year-olds rolled their eyes, gazing at one another in a silent language only they could understand. But Aelin didn’t need to hear their dialogue to understand that they had heard the story enough times. But Aelin couldn’t help it. She just loved telling it. Gazing at the sparkling emerald on her finger, Aelin didn’t think she would ever get sick of telling it.

“So, as I was saying.” She bounced Eliora playfully in her lap until she giggled. “He kissed me and-”

“Aelin Galathynius Whitethorn, you better not be telling my daughter that I kissed you at that party!” Aelin had been so absorbed in her kids that she had barely registered her hulking husband walking into the room. He stood at the door, arms crossed in front of his body as he glared at her, emerald eyes meeting turquoise in a clash of passion. Rowan was still in his work clothes, clearly having just arrived, and Aelin was really trying not to drool at how good he looked with his hair ruffled and his tie undone around his neck.

She threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

“Gods, what does a girl have to do to finish a story around here?”

The floor of their living room creaked as Rowan came to sit beside Aelin and Sam on the couch, his gaze never leaving hers. Rowan leaned forward, catching Aelin’s lips with his for a quick kiss before settling back down on the couch. Nehemia immediately rested her head on her father’s shoulder and was rewarded with a warm kiss to the top of her head.

Aelin gazed at them with fondness, love filling her heart. Until her husband’s gaze locked with her own once more, and Aelin smirked.

“You cannot keep telling people that,” Rowan shook his head before turning to their youngest, taking her from Aelin’s lap and shooting his wife an exasperated look. “Eliora, do you remember what Mama and I told you about lying?”

From across from her, Aelin watched Sam snort. He swallowed as his gaze met hers, smile dropping.

Eliora’s tiny eyebrows scrunched up at the top of her head, the look identical to one Aelin constantly saw on Rowan’s face. Finally, she shook her head, gazing up at her father. “It’s… wrong?”

“That’s right,” Rowan smiled down at her. “And we don’t do it. Even if Mama does.” He looked at the gape on his wife’s face before looking down at their daughter once more. “Especially if Mama does.” Aelin stuck her tongue out to her husband, who finally cracked a smile at her. This one sent warmth all the way down to her toes.

“Does this mean Mama can’t finish the story?” Eliora asked, her voice turning sad as she gazed between her family. Rowan laughed, bouncing her up and down before looking at the twins and back at Aelin, an unmistakable look of triumph in his eyes.

“Oh, no no no,” he replied, grinning. “Daddy’s here now. And I’m gonna tell you what really happened. I didn’t want to be at that party, to begin with...”

Aelin didn’t need him to, even if their kids did. She remembered everything about that night. Everything about the days and weeks following she didn’t think she would ever forget them until the day she died. It wasn’t every day you kissed the love of your life at a shitty fraternity rager.

Rowan sat in the kitchen nursing his long since warmed beer. Shitty rap music blared through the speakers around him and it was then that he decided he was better off going back to his dorms before he did something he would regret.

It had been an hour since the kiss. An hour until he had finally gotten to understand what the hype of kissing Aelin Galathynius was. She was a lot of things- but a bad kisser wasn’t one of them. Rowan had sworn to every god imaginable he could handle a kiss with the infuriating blonde. It was just a kiss, right? Just a game.

But her lips had touched his and Rowan knew something was very very different. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of lemon and verbatim out of his senses for the past hour and it was unlikely that he would stop imagining the kiss any time soon.

But it was just a kiss. He didn’t like Aelin Galathynius.

She was annoying, and loud, obnoxious, and rude, and she lived to annoy him.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking of her? Even before the party, after their failed project, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those damn turquoise eyes.

It wasn’t that he hated everything about her. No- he had noticed the kind voice she would take when talking to Lysandra’s little sister. And he would be a fool not to notice the special smile that lit up her face when she would play with her dog or talk about literature. No, he didn’t hate her. But whatever he did feel was proving to be extremely problematic. Because there was no way she felt the same way.

Yes- it was definitely time to go home.

Making his way out from behind the kitchen counter, Rowan made to leave the kitchen just as the door went flying open. The sound of laughter rang through the door and Rowan stared at the exact person he was hoping to be done with for the night.

“Not likely, Moonbeam,” she was saying with a shake of her head, even though a spark glimmered in her blue eyes. Rowan had to consciously check himself from staring for too long as Aelin realized who was standing in front of her.

Her hand flew to her chest with wide eyes. “Jesus, Rowan, you scared me!”

Rowan thought it was the first time she had ever said his name. He quite liked the sound of it from her lips.

He was staring again. Full-blown staring at the woman in front of him as he contemplated what to say or do. He was coming up blank. Every thought in his mind seemed to be screaming at him at once. Some saying to run- to flee and never come into contact with her again, others saying to grab her and kiss her. All of them agreed she looked breathtaking in front of him. Like a golden angle.

“Ditto, Galathynius,” he managed out, earning a frown from Aelin. The action brought his gaze to her lips and he quickly looked away. Aelin seemed to have changed as well. Gone was the snarky woman who had spilled her beer all over him, replaced with a beautiful woman who he might’ve been friends with in another life.

“Hey, can we-”

“You know you may want to switch to a different conditioner,” he cut her off, saying the first thing he could think of to leave the conversation. “Your hair’s a little dry.”

Aelin gaped at him, her once lidded eyes turning cold and hard as she scoffed, shoving past him further into the kitchen. “Charming as ever, Whitethorn,” she sniped. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Eliora clapped from her place on her father’s lap.

“It was true love’s kiss!” she cried, earning a laugh from her siblings and parents. It had definitely been something, that was for sure.

“I don’t know…” Aelin mused. “I thought true love’s kiss was reserved for princes, the bravest of them all.” Eliora frowned, as did the twins as their gazes switched to their father.

“I am brave!” Rowan squawked, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about, Aelin?”

“Why, my dear husband,” Aelin placed her hand on her chest, pretending to be affronted. “It seems you’ve forgotten what happened afterward.” Realization dawned on Rowan’s face before retreating back into a frown. He seemed to hold Eliora tighter as he glared at his wife.

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he muttered, voice low.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupted his parents from his side of the couch. “What do you mean what happened afterward?” This was a part of the story that neither one of their teenagers had heard before. Whether they were too young to understand it, or it had never come up, the twins were now fully invested in the story.

“Yeah,” Nehemia joined in. “You guys got together after the kiss at the party. That was it, right?” At their parents’ silence, the twins looked at each other before bolting upright in their seats.

“Right?” they asked in unison.

Rowan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. It seemed it was time for a sequel to their family tale.

Rowan was sure there should be a ditch where his feet had paced through the grass in front of Aelin’s dorm. Cursing to whatever gods there were, Rowan forced his feet to stop moving. How was he supposed to apologize to Aelin if he couldn’t even stop pacing from the nervousness of just thinking about it?

It hadn’t taken long after Rowan had left the party for him to realize what an idiotic prick he had been. He had been tempted to drive over to her dorm right then and there and grovel for her forgiveness. But ultimately he had decided against it, choosing instead in favor of avoiding a hangover.

But he was sober now, and an apology was necessary. More than necessary.

He had apologized to people before. He had begged his professors for extensions and apologized after a falling out with an old friend. But he had never planned on asking out any of the people he had been apologizing to. Two days and Rowan had refused to talk about the kiss with anyone. To be honest, he had tried to forget about it himself.

But it seemed it was destined to never leave his mind for the rest of his existence. And as he played the kiss back in his mind, he couldn’t say he minded it. It had been a rude awakening to realize he may have had feelings for Aelin Galathynius. To go from loathing the girl in his chemistry class to suddenly picturing her face everywhere was a big change, and Rowan didn’t know what to do about it.

Rowan wasn’t stupid. Aelin Galathynius was a beautiful person. Gorgeous looks aside, the woman had a pure heart of fire and gold. Of course, he had noticed this in sullen silence, but that wasn’t the point. He could acknowledge her wicked intelligence and her need to fight for something that was important to her. And he knew that she loved unconditionally.

Whether he liked it or not, he had kissed Aelin back, and that had been all him.

He wanted to do it again.

“Fleetfoot, slow down! Hang on a second Lys- Fleetfoot, no!” Rowan whipped around as he heard Aelin’s voice come from behind him. Sure enough, the golden beauty walked along the sidewalk to her dorm, dog leash in hand.

She was dressed in a university sweatshirt and leggings that showed off the curve of her legs, so much so that Rowan was forced to look away. Her phone was between her ear and shoulder as she spoke with who Rowan assumed to be Lysandra. He held back a smile as the massive golden retriever yanked her along the road, apparently following a particularly interesting squirrel.

“I’m telling you, Lys,” she was saying as she came closer, clearly still not seeing him. “It’s not li-” Her feet came to a sudden stop and Rowan’s head snapped up to see her gaze was already on his, eyes wide. Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Rowan couldn’t find he had anything to say either. Her golden hair ran down her back and Rowan found himself fighting the urge to twirl a strand of it around his finger. She really was breathtaking.

“Lys, I’ll call you back,” she said, eyes not leaving his as she took the phone from her shoulder and ended the call. “Rowan? What are you doing here?”

It was his turn to struggle for words. How would he even bring it up? A week ago the two were on nothing more than insulting terms. She had infuriated him- had tried every nerve in his body and every bit of anger he had. But now…

Aelin’s brows were raised in anticipation. Are you going to answer?

Rowan coughed, finally thrown out of his reverie. Who was he kidding? Aelin didn’t want to go on a date with him? Aelin didn’t want to go anywhere with him. And he couldn’t blame her. Rowan had been nothing but a prick to her since the moment they had met, and it was truly coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Uh, Aedion told me he left something in Lys’s room.” The lie rolled off of his tongue easily enough, yet he hoped Aelin would be able to see through it. It seemed that she didn’t.

“Oh,” she said, understanding and almost shame clouding her words. “Right. What is it? Do you wanna come inside to find it?” Aelin’s dog sat obediently at her heels, looking between the two college kids in silent wonder.

Yeah, dude, Rowan wanted to say. I don’ know what’s happening either.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Aedion’s problem. I just thought I could find it before class started but I think it’s too late. He’ll come around later for it.”

“Right,” Aelin said doubtfully, crossing her arms in front of her body and looking at him.

“Right,” Rowan repeated back to her, causing Aelin to raise another brow. He wanted to push it back down. “Well, I’m gonna go- get to… class. So- bye Aelin.” He was gone before she could say anything else, giving her his back and practically sprinting back toward his side of campus.

Rowan Whitethorn was an idiot. He knew it. But one look from Aelin and the cold fear that had rushed through his body had him wanting to curl up into a ball and never speak to her again. But he had to. Rowan would have to talk to her again if he was going to find out who was truly behind those stunning blue eyes.

But even at the thought of speaking to her again-

“Hold on, hold on, I know where this is going,” Nehemia interrupted her father before he could continue his sentence. “You avoided her didn’t you?” As Rowan’s cheeks flamed, Sam sat upright in his seat, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No way. You avoided her?” Aelin cackled as Rowan grumbled something under his breath, earning herself another glare. Nonetheless, Aelin tucked herself under her husband’s arm, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He seemed to soften at the touch, green eyes meeting hers in a look so full of love Aelin thought she might explode.

“Well, what is it, old man?” Sam prompted. Rowan scowled at his son and daughter, both of who looked ready to pass out from restrained laughter.

“Only for a couple of weeks,” he muttered lowly.

“A COUPLE OF WEEKS?” Sam exploded, his laughter finally ringing out through the house as he fell back into the couch, holding his stomach. Nehemia glared at her brother and poked him in the stomach. It didn’t seem to matter as Sam sat up, still grinning. “And you call me a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out.”

“You are a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out,” Rowan shook his head, running a hand down his face. Nehemia nodded, offering her father a high five which he quickly returned. She was such a daddy’s girl.

“It’s true honey,” Aelin cut in, even as her son glared at her. “Dorian knows she likes you.”

“The world knows she likes him,” Nehemia said, exasperated. “Now get back to the story. Mom,” she turned to Aelin. “Did you know Dad was lying about having places to be?”

Aelin snorted, running her hand through the hair at the nape of Rowan’s neck which seemed to be even redder than it had been moments before. “Of course I did. His excuse was that he had to go to class. It was Sunday.”

It was Nehemia’s turn to crackle now and Rowan looked downright offended. It wasn’t often that his oldest daughter wasn’t on his side. Aelin leaned into Rowan’s shoulder, delight running through her body as he placed a chaste kiss on her temple.

“You’ll pay for this,” he mumbled into her hair.

Her eyes said it all. I’m looking forward to it, Buzzard.

“What happened? What happened?” Eliora’s voice dragged Aelin back to the present. She was sure her youngest had no idea what was going on at this point in the story, but Rowan continued nonetheless.

It was three weeks before he saw her again. Three weeks of avoided group hangouts and staying in his dorm room during parties. Three weeks of taking a longer route than normal to all of his classes, and three weeks of wishing he could speak to the girl he couldn’t get out of his head.

Rowan was sitting at a picnic table in the middle of one of the university quads, textbook open and highlighter in hand. He hadn’t actually understood any bit of what he had read, but at least it looked like he was doing something. And it seemed to be working pretty well for his other problem.

“Fleetfoot, get back here!” Or not.

Rowan tried not to draw attention to himself as Aelin ran past his table, after the massive bundle of golden fur that was running away from her. He watched as she chased her dog around the quad, finally giving up as she layed on the ground, arms splayed wide. It wasn’t long before Fleetfoot was back and licking her face.

He felt Aelin’s laugh all the way to his heart.

“Ten bucks says he grows a pair and asks her out.” Sam had long since abandoned his spot on the couch in favor of sitting on the ground to watch his father intently as he told the story. He had muttered the words to his sister, whose feet were right by his head. She too was looking at her father intently.

“Twenty says he keeps ignoring her until happenstance pushes them together.”

Rowan rolled his eyes at his children, even though the spark in his green eyes showed he was more than amused. “Your mother was right. It is impossible to finish a story in this house.”

“Gods,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my dad was such a pus-”

“Let’s see how fast I can ground you,” Rowan cut him off with a stern look to the child in his arms who seemed to be on the verge of sleep. Sam smiled sheepishly.

“My bad.”

“Will you shut up so he can finish the story?” Nehemia glared at her brother.

“Alright,” Aedion slammed his hand down on Rowan’s helmet, sending a large clattering sound through his head. Rowan scowled at his best friend, shoving him away. “What the fuck is going on between you and my cousin?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rowan turned back to his bag, shrugging off his helmet and shoving it into the massive pack before taking a sip of his water bottle, all while ignoring Aedion and those eyes that reminded him so much of the ones he truly wanted to see.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Aedion snapped at him, forcing Rowan to face him. “The two of you have been skirting around each other for the past three weeks and Aelin won’t even come to parties with us anymore so what. Happened.”

Rowan stopped. Aelin hadn’t been going to parties? Had she been avoiding him as much as he had been avoiding her? He looked at his best friend and shrugged.

“We kissed. During spin the bottle.”

Aedion looked at him for what seemed like minutes before bursting into uncanny laughter.

“Damn,” he wheezed out. “That’s it? Well, it’s about time.”

“Excuse me?” Rowan growled, and Aedion stopped laughing.

“You know what I mean, man. It’s about time. All those years when you two would look at each other and glance away before the other noticed. Or when you defend each other when the

other isn’t there- yep, don’t think I didn’t notice that. I think we can all agree that it’s about time.”

Rowan shook his head, incredulous. Other people had noticed that?

“No, Aedion,” he sighed. “Aelin hates me. She wants nothing to do with me.” Aedion stared at him again before, shaking his head.

“Ro, man, you are such an idiot sometimes.”

“You know, Aedion. Saying cryptic shit and expecting other people to understand you doesn’t help anyone,” Rowan snapped, his patience thinning. Turning back to Aedion, he found his eyes glued on something behind him.

Rowan’s heart stopped. There was no way.

But sure enough, Rowan turned around to meet the gaze of a gaping Aelin Galathynius. She held a tennis ball in one hand and Fleetfoot circled the ground at her feet. Clearly, the dog had chased the ball into their field and her owner had eventually followed. At the worst timing imaginable.

“Aelin-” Rowan started, but she was already gone, whirling around and sprinting out of the stadium, the golden retriever at her heels. He didn’t think before following after her. “Aelin, wait!” he called after her, forcing his legs to go faster.

It turned out that Aelin Galathynius was quite fast when she wanted to be, and Rowan only caught up to her when she was standing in front of her dorm building. She didn’t need to turn around for Rowan to know she was fuming.

“Gods, what do you want, Rowan?” she glared at him, her voice ice. “Haven’t you already proven your point?” Rowan wanted to grab her and shake her.

“Proven my- what? Aelin I-”

“Look you made yourself very clear at the party, alright?” she snapped, turning away from him. But Rowan’s arm shot out, catching hers before she could leave and forcing her to look at him. “I get that Aedion can be nosy at times but you were so out of line, Whitethorn.”

The confused look on his face must have been painfully obvious. Aelin rolled her eyes. “Look, if it was just an act to shut Aedion up, I-”

Rowan kissed her.

This woman. This annoying, infuriating, intelligent, beautiful woman. She was absolutely astounding. And she thought he somehow hadn’t noticed that.

Rowan wanted to remember the feeling of her lips on his for the rest of his life. Wanted to bottle the sound of the small gasp she released before melting into the kiss. He wanted to mold their bodies together until there was no room left. Rowan wanted to feel her soft hair between his fingers and the feeling of her hands in his hair until the day he died. He never wanted to let her go.

This time when the two pulled back, Rowan kept her close to his body with an arm around her waist. Her arms were still around his neck and Aelin gazed at him through wide eyes. Before she could say anything, Rowan kissed her again, this time lingering. She kissed his smile with her own.

“It was never an act.”

“Well it seems to me that Fleetfoot is the true heroine of the story,” Nehemia grinned, petting the head of her own puppy that sat at her feet next to Sam. “Without her, you two would never have met again. Oh, and I won, by the way Sammy. Pay up.”

“That’s my girl,” Rowan grinned, pride shone over his face at his daughter’s antics regardless of her win being at his expense. Sam practically growled as he handed his sister a twenty-dollar bill.

“Oh, don’t be sad, Sammy,” Aelin comforted her son, holding her arms out until he rolled his eyes and walked over to give her a hug. “Ask out Asterin and your kids won’t do the same thing to you,” she whispered, earning a dark red blush on her son’s cheeks.

She shared a knowing look with Rowan, unable to resist reaching up and kissing his lips once more. Rowan returned it in kind, grinning when she nipped playfully at his bottom lip.

“Boo!” Nehemia called from her spot on the couch as Sam yelled, “Get a room!”

Aelin turned to Rowan once more, unsurprised to see his gaze already on her. “Remind me why we keep them?” Rowan’s laugh rang out loud as he pulled Aelin close to his body. Her head landed on his shoulder and she sighed in content.

“Because we’re cute,” Nehemia supplied. “At least, one of us is.” She gazed at her little sister who had long since fallen asleep on her father’s lap.

It seemed that their entire reason for telling the story had fallen asleep long before her father had finished telling it. There was no doubt that Eliora wouldn’t remember any bit of the story when she woke up.

“She’s too young to understand the story yet,” Nehemia said, brushing back a piece of her little sister’s hair with astounding gentleness.

“So what do we tell her when she’s old enough?” Aelin asked, cherishing the kiss that Rowan placed on her head and unable to contain the insurmountable love in her heart as her kids responded.

“Oh, Mom’s version, for sure. It’s way better.”

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

#aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #aelin #rowan #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #modern au #rowaelin fanfiction #tog #sjm #throne of glass

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simpz-art-stash · 3 years

Text

Late Beginnings [Ch. 2]

Summary: Macaque’s gotten over the biggest gap on his side of the burnt bridge between him and his broke af relationship with Wukong. Now he’s gotta take an even bigger leap in hopes of getting MK to give him a chance as well.

(Author’s note: DUNNO IF THERE’LL BE MORE BUT WE’LL SEE, FEEL FREE TO SUGGEST STUFF TO PUT IN HERE)

Previous | Next

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It should’ve been easy, a kid like MK had a good head on his shoulders, enough to see the good in all besides himself.

It should’ve been easy.

So then why the hell was he still standing on the sidelines mulling over what to say to the kid who was just a few yards away training under the careful eye of his mentor?

What could he say? The same to Wukong? He felt that might be a bit too cliche, even if it had worked.

‘Just barely.’

Mac sighed, brushing his hair back and watching the two practice stillness together, Wukong resting on his tail in a lotus position while MK stood on one foot, straining to keep his posture in check. Even with the staff being used as a counter-balance his muscles flexed against the lack of support in his other leg.

Maybe he could offer him something? Nothing major of course, something innocent but worthwhile and thoughtful. Demon head’s wouldn’t do, the kid had no real use for those, nor would he probably appreciate a trophy that wasn’t his. What did kids even like these days anyways? He thought of toys but, MK was practically a bigger kid than most other cub’s. Most kids like him usually just kept to popular places or their phones…

Decisions decisions…

A small yelp forced him out of his thoughts, his gaze shifting back over to MK who had since fallen back on his butt. Groaning and complaining like usual before Wukong gave him the ol’ ‘keep it up!’ attitude, prompting MK to simply nod and give it another try.

‘Geeze, and I thought my training was harsh. At least I gave him actual critique on his form…’

Then an idea flashed in his mind, popping off like a rocket and he suddenly found himself with something worthwhile.

------~------

“Alright bud, I think that’s enough of that. Why don’t you hit the bench, I need to go check on the kids back inside n’ make sure they haven’t left a mess after that marathon I set up for em.” Wukong claimed, patting MK on the back before turning away. Offering a curt wave as he left, “Call me if you need me!”

“Alright, I will!” MK sighed and made his way over to a makeshift seat, which happened to be nothing more than a split log. And proceeded to take his headband off if not to just drench his hair in some of the water from one of the bottle’s he’d brought along with him. Before guzzling the rest of it down like he hadn’t drank in forever.

“I see he’s been keepin’ you on your toes. Full pun intended.” Mac commented, earning him a startled squeak from MK who had just about spat his drink out when Mac rounded him from behind to sit himself down on the opposing side of the log.

MK had heard a little snippet from MKing about Macaque trying to make amends, he didn’t get the full details but he’d heard enough to know to keep an eye out for the guy. Not that he wasn’t already always on high alert for any suspicious activity.

“Guh- yeah.” MK coughed a little, rubbing his throat a little as he cleared it. “It hasn’t been uh, easy, but I think I’m gettin’ better. Just need to try harder or whatever…”

“Mmm…” Mac let his gaze concentrate on the immortal peach tree Wukong had planted out in the front of his yard, it having long since bloomed and been picked clean.

MK shifted a little under the uncomfortable silence that spread between the two, there wasn’t tension in it per sey, but it was still a lil awkward for him to just outright be chatting it up with the same guy who had once tried to kill him at one point.

“So uh..I was hoping to..make it up to you, what with everything that happened the last time…” Mac’s face squinted a little, his tail irritably swaying behind him, it seemed this was just as awkward for him as it was MK.

“Uhm..okay?..” MK veered a little away from the guy, not too sure how to handle that. “Hey if this is about the whole ‘you trying to kill me thing’ then uh, hey man we’re cool.”

“What? I mean yeah but, it’s more than just that..” Mac fiddled idly with the hem of his cloak, the things color long since having been worn down from the elements. “A lot more…”

“Complicated?” MK quirked a brow at him.

“Yeeaaahh…”

“Heh, been there. Done that.” MK nodded, not that it was anything to be proud of.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mac looked at MK finally with a concerned expression.

“About you and him?? I mean..yeah he told me a lil..mostly just warned me to keep an eye out for you but…” MK rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, shifting under the demon’s gaze.

“Of course he didn’t…” Mac sighed with a frown, “Well, maybe that’s where I can help you out. I know Wukong, he doesn’t exactly give you the full picture so easily, then again he’s never really had a student before either so.”

“So?”

‘So, he won’t just outright give you the benefit of the doubt just like that, especially if you just say you’ll give him whatever advice he wants. He’ll think you’re just trying to pull him from Wukong again or worse.’

“What I mean to say is, if you want to correct your form with that whole balancing thing, you should try putting less focus into just your foot, and put it towards your whole body.” Macaque stated plainly, his gaze shifting away back to the peach tree.

“Oh..uhm..alright?...Thanks???” MK blinked, none too sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t trying to kill him, or hurt his feelings so, maybe that was a good thing??

“Feel free to mention it to him…” Macaque claimed, his gaze softening before he got up finally and began to walk elsewhere.

“h-Wait!” MK called out, standing up right then. To which Macaque of course obliged, though he kept his back facing kid.

“..are you..like...being serious about that whole, ‘making amends’ thing?..” MK squinted at him suspiciously, even if Macaque could lie about his true intentions, MK at least thought it right to ask. Considering everything else…

“Yes.” Mac stated, his tail curling a little behind him.

“Ohkaaay... “ It was still hard to tell but, “Then why’re you trying to?-”

“Because he told me to.” Mac claimed, his head turning just enough to share a glance with the kid. “Don’t get the wrong idea..it was wrong of me, but.”

“Buuut?”

-------~-------

“But whatever you do, you gotta stop lyin’ about the real stuff.”

Mac grunted, that was probably gonna be the hardest trial of his to overcome. For him, lying was basically his day by day means of survival. “I think I’d rather cut my own tongue out at that point an be mute then cut that out.”

The chick shrugged, “Hey, I’m just sayin’. Honesty is the best policy. Even if it hurts to hear it, better said than left for dead. You want em to trust you again? You gotta earn it. A few pretty words ain’t never gonna be enough. You gotta put some effort behind em.”

“Uuuugh.” He rolled his eyes, already regretting having decided to go through with the whole thing. “Fine...but if I get my ass beat because someone couldn’t take the heat, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’ll take that chance.” The chick smirked.

-------~-------

Macaque sighed, he could already imagine just how easy it’d be to screw up something so casually done by others. Century old lies he’d held onto for most his life being the worst one’s, with how gnarled they were from the many times they’d been knotted by his reasons to keep them from being undone by any means necessary. He’d run from them for such a long time though, enough to the point where he’d finally hit the end of his lead, and now he was forced to look back at the mess he’d caused.

It wasn’t a pretty sight at all.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t go back and try to fix some of it. Now matter how long it took, little by little. He just had to be careful in doing so or else he’d just get himself wrapped up in knots all over again.

“...I..” Just say it, even if it’s half the truth.

“I didn’t want to see you waste that potential under a guy who wouldn’t appreciate it...” Macaque claimed, his gaze shifting away.

That...was probably the first time MK had ever seen Mac show a genuine side of himself before. Even during training he’d been distant and strict, similar to Wukong but a lot less merciful in a spar. Where with Mac, bruises were lessons learned.

“...Thanks. For the uh..advice I mean.”

Macaque stiffened a little at the response, but he didn’t spoil it for fear of ruining what little ground he had on that bridge.

“Anytime.”

And then he was gone.

#shadowpeaches #LMK #lego monkie kid #Sun Wukong #Macaque #MK #my fics #ayeeeee chaptah 2 baebeeeee #just as messy as the last one #with some sloppy seconds #;'D

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probsjosh · 3 years

Text

Bumblebee

Schlatt Coin origin story.

Dad!Schlatt x reader but I made it fuckin sad.

edit: I fucking forgot to mention this is GN!Reader I'm such an idiot

Warning: mentions of alcohol, cheating/affairs, abandonment, gambling, not explicit but reference to murder, angst (if there’s anything else I missed please tell me)

So uh, Dad!Schlatt angst aye?

_________________________________________

It had been a great Friday afternoon. Schlatt decided he’d wanted to take you, his spouse, and son out for the day to have some fun, going to having lunch, then visiting the local ice cream shop before stopping at an arcade to spoil Tubbo for the night. It was rare for your family of three to have these outings but it made it all that much more special when you had the time and money to do so.

After playing and collecting tickets for the better part of two hours, Tubbo had finally scrounged up just enough tickets to get the giant bee plushie he’d been eyeing all year. It was bigger than his torso, square-shaped, and undeniably adorable. What was even more adorable was this pudgy little three-year-old waddling his way up to the prize counter, holding an unreasonable amount of tickets in his arms. There’s a small moment of panic when he realizes he can’t quite reach the top of the counter when his dad comes to the rescue, lifting him up so he can open his arms and let the tickets fall in front of the impressed employee.

“Gimme da bee,” Is all he says, his contagious laughter ringing out as the bee is retrieved and handed over to the giddy child. “Tank you!” is all the employee gets before he buries his face into the plush. Schlatt laughs and hugs him tighter, he kisses his forehead as you look at them awestruck, a loving smile on your face. It was moments like these that reminded you how much you loved your family. Tubbo managed to peel himself away from his newfound love long enough to yell at you, “Look! I got da bee! Look!” You laugh as you come closer to them, pressing a kiss onto Tubbos forehead, “My little Bumblebee has his own bumblebee!” His little giggles muffled by the bee as he nods, “I got a bumby bee!”

Once you were all back home, there was a knock at the door. You were sitting in the bathroom with Tubbo, who was enjoying a bubble bath, so Schlatt went to answer the door. There was some muffled talking before he appeared in the bathroom doorway. “I’m gonna go out to the casino with the boys for a while. Think you can survive a few hours without me?” Tubbo emerges from his mountain of bubbles, giggling before he dove back in, “I think we’ll be okay,” you laugh as your son piles the bubbles onto his head like a hat. Schlatt smiles and gives you a quick kiss before heading out. “Don’t get too shit-faced!” you call after him, you hear a soft, “I’ll try!” before the door shuts.

He apparently didn’t try hard enough. He stumbles in the front door at 4 a.m. reeking of booze, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke staining his clothes. You came downstairs to help him into the bathroom. “I think-” he hiccups as you sit him on the rim of the bathtub, “I think I got a little too shit-faced.” He smiles apologetically, swaying lightly, before reaching into his pocket, “I made some money though.” You smile back, but chastise him for drinking and coming home late anyways, but you knew he probably didn’t mean to get as drunk as he did and it seemed like he’d had fun.

It wasn’t a problem at first. At first, it was just a weekend a month. Then one weekend became two, became every other week, became if he wasn’t at work, he was at that damn casino, became you weren’t even sure if he still had a job. You weren’t even sure when it started but you very quickly realized what a problem it had become. Schlatt was never home. And if he was he would only appear to drop off a wad of cash, give Tubbo a hug, try to show you any semblance of affection which you outright rejected, and he’d be out the door again. You’d stopped trying to keep him at home, seeing as he’d just disappear no matter what you told him, no matter how much you asked for him to stay, he never did.

Your breaking point was when Tubbo just stopped asking where his dad was. It was almost as if he’d forgotten who his father was, and the only person to blame was Schlatt. So one night you asked your neighbors if they could watch Tubbo for just a little while, they agreed, and you were off to the casino to drag your alcoholic, gambling addict of a husband back home.

It wasn’t difficult to spot him in public, his ram horns like a crown atop his head made him a beacon for attention, and he was definitely getting it. He sat at a Roulette table, a rather large crowd gathered around him, towers of chips in front of him, one arm slung around some twink, the other arm knocking over towers of chips to signify him placing his bet. He was always one to put on a show.

“Always bet on black!” he shouted, and the crowd around him roared, as the dealer pushed his newly won earnings towards him. He took a sip of his drink before he leaned down and kissed the man pressed against his side.

That made you see red.

You stormed over, the crowd parting like the red sea at the sight of your fury until you were met with JSchlatt himself. “Hey, what happened...” was all he could say before he turned to see you standing there in front of him, furious and heartbroken.

“How could you?” You sounded so angry at first. “How fucking could you.” But it melted away into sorrow. The tears flowed down easily, you didn’t bother trying to hide how much he’d hurt you. But after months of never seeing him at home, did you really think he would remain faithful to you? Did the thought of Schlatt living out of a casino, on a never-ending gambling train, never make you think that he was doing something, or rather someone, else?

No. In all honesty, it hadn’t. You’d been naive enough to trust the man with the Devil’s Horns with every aspect of yourself, thinking that maybe if you loved him enough, he’d love you just the same. And as you stood in front of the man you once called the love of your life. The father to your gorgeous child. The man that promised to love you till the end of your days.

You saw the pure horror in his eyes.

Not the shame you’d expected, nor the anger at the fact that he’d been caught. He was terrified. Of what, you couldn’t be sure and you honestly didn’t care. Anger clouded your judgment, as you saw him take a step towards you, an arm extended out to reach for you. You swatted his hand away and sobbed. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you yelled. Profanities, curses to his name, wishes that you’d never met the wretched man, and he was so taken aback, he stumbled back and into the table. Every single one of his chip towers fell, the dealer didn’t bat an eye and accepted his entire haul as a bet. Schlatt realized too late as he turned to see the wheel spin.

Red, 16.

You’d stopped yelling by now, trying to collect yourself, as you felt both his hands clamp onto your arms, “Honey, darling, I’m gonna need you to listen to me, okay?” You tried to pull away, fighting against his grip, but he apparently wasn’t as drunk as he made it out to seem. “Please, I know I fucked up, just please for the love of God listen to me for just one fucking second.”

The urgency and desperation in his voice caught your attention and you knew he was being serious. You stopped fighting in his grip and met his gaze.

“I need you to go home. I need you to take Tubbo, take any cash you have left, and nothing else. And I need you to run. As far and as fast as you can. Do you understand me?” The fear in his eyes suddenly made sense as you nodded twice. He let out a choked breath before he whispered, “I’m so sorry,” as he let go of you. You didn’t say anything in return, only giving him one last look of pained understanding as you turned on your heel and ran as fast as you could.

Schlatt stood there, staring at the spot where the love of his life had stood. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming down when he heard the awfully familiar voice of the casino owner as he walked onto the floor. As it turns out, Schlatt had been in that casino 24/7 because he owed someone powerful a lot, and I mean a lot, of money. “JSchlatt. Friend. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Schlatt flinches as he feels Dreams' hand land on his shoulder. He opens his eyes, the shit-eating grin he’d come to perfect settling on his face so fucking naturally, as he turned to face his demon. “Dream! Ah! What a lovely surprise-”

“Cut the shit Schlatt. What the hell just happened to my money.” It's not a question. He knows what happened, he just wants to see Schlatt squirm.

"I can— I can get it all back. I promise. I promise— please just," he swallows what little pride he has left and he begins to unravel in front of Dream, "Just leave my spouse and kid alone." Dream tsks and looks Schlatt over once, pausing for just a second before he sighs and reaches into his pocket.

He takes Schlatts wrist and presses a single gold coin into his palm, closing the drunks fist around it. Schlatt, grateful for this second chance, almost sighs in relief, but before he can, Dream speaks again, "Your last coin, Schlatt. Be smart with it." Immediately Dreams lackeys rush past them, out the door, and into the night looking for blood. Schlatt realizes far too late. "NO—" Dreams grip on his wrist tightens, as Schlatt stumbles and falls in front of him.

“I told you Schlatt. There would be a price to pay.”

Schlatt finally breaks in front of Dream, gripping the coin in his hand, as he screams for the family he knows he's already lost.

You stumbled up to your neighbor’s door, slamming your fists repeatedly on their front door before a panicked woman opened the door. It was well into the night at this point, and you’d feel much more sympathy for her if the fear and adrenaline course through you weren’t making you as panicked as she looked. You rushed pasted her, picking Tubbo up from where he lay sleeping, thanked her profusely before you apologized, and bolted out of her house. You gripped Tubbo to your chest as you ran down the street and into the city, pasted closed shops, and speeding cars. Tubbo never once stirring from his slumber, his little arms wrapped around his bee plush, his blanket catching all your tears as you bolted haphazardly through the city.

You didn't know much about the man who ran the casino but you knew what happened to the people that crossed him.

You didn't have it in you to outright hate Schlatt for this. It may have been his actions that lead to this but it was obvious he never meant to put either you or Tubbo in harm’s way. The look on his face was enough to tell you he still loved you with every fiber of his being but that was not enough to excuse him for what he'd done. You didn’t think you’d ever forgive him for what he’d done to you and Tubbo, but you knew that didn’t matter now. What mattered was making sure Tubbo was safe.

You came across an alleyway that went into the forest bordering the city. You knew there was only so much you could do in the city, so you chose to gamble your chances in the woods. After hours of dodging trees, bushes, and boulders, getting as far away from the sounds of the men coming after you as you could, you manage to find yourself on the other side of the forest. The sun was rising in the distance as you came to a clearing. A road that lead out of the city and into the undeveloped land surrounding it.

Then you spot it.

A box. A simple box sitting on the side of the lonely road leading out of the city. As you got closer the words "FREE ITEMS" written on the side in bold black marker made it clear that this was a donation box. You knew this is Tubbos’ only chance. Frantically, you search the box and luckily find the very marker used to write on the box that had been tossed in by its original owner. You carefully lower Tubbo into the box, uncap the marker and on the inside flap quickly scribble "His name is tubbo, take care of him, please.”

You don't even realize you're crying until your vision is too blurry to see the words. You hear a shout coming from the woods and you know you have to go. Suppressing your sobs, you quickly press a kiss into his forehead for the last time, "Goodbye my little Bumblebee." A sad smile comes onto your features as you close the flaps of the box enough to hide him before turning back into the forest and running in without looking back. A newfound determination in you as you make as much noise as you can, hoping that they would be satisfied in only killing you and leave your baby alone.

A few hours pass and there are screams coming from within the forest that are abruptly cut off. Tubbo stirs in his box and awakens as the sun comes up, spilling into his new temporary home. He sits up, confused and alone when he hears a voice coming up the road. Fear gets the better of him and he ducks down into the box as he hears a small voice yell, "Dadza! Dadza! Can I check what’s inside that box?" There’s a low chuckle, and a soft, "Sure son, go ahead," before Tubbo can hear small footsteps quickly approaching him.

Tubbo grips his plushie as he hears the small footsteps slow down, before stopping completely. Suddenly the box flaps open and a little blonde boy’s head pokes out over the edge, blue eyes peering down at him. A moment passes as both boys stare at each other in confusion before the blonde boy calls out again.

"Daaaaad! There's a baby in the box!" The heavy footsteps stop suddenly. "A what?" The footsteps start up again, and suddenly a man in a green and white striped bucket hat appears. Confusion turns to worry, as the man’s eyes settle on the message scribbled into the box. “So. Tubbo? Is it?”

Tubbos’ grip on his plushie becomes even tighter, but he nods slowly, eyes dancing between the boy and the man. “Well, Tubbo. Guess I’m your dad now. My name is Philza,” he gestures to the boy, “and this is Tommy.” Tubbos eyes meet Tommys, and Tommy grins at the boy in front of him. “Hi, Tubbo! You’re gonna be my best friend!” At these words, Tubbo smiles and stands in his box, dropping his bee in favor of hugging Tommy. “Hi, Tommy.” Is all he says as Tommy hugs Tubbo back. Philza smiles at the boys in front of him, unable to find it in him to worry about how his twins would react to the family’s new addition.

Back in the city, Schlatt stumbles back home for the first time in weeks, being greeted by a cold and silent house. He shuts the door behind him and slumps down onto the floor. A bottle of Jack Daniels already half-empty meets his lips as he begins to cry again. Longing for the family that he lost the moment he struck that stupid deal with Dream. His fingers play with the singular gold coin he has to his name.

Schlatts coin.

Bonus:

He liked to walk the length of the city during the day. The sights and sounds were enough to drown out his hungover thoughts. He'd be sober for most of the day before he returned to the casino to drown his sorrow in liquor, but for now he could relish in the warm sun as he came to the edge of the city. There was a playground near where the forest and city collided that he usually avoided, in fear of breaking down over hearing the children's laughter, but for some reason today he felt nostalgia for the happy times he'd once had.

He walks the sidewalk, tears coming to his eyes as his guilt comes crashing back. Coming to a bench, he sits down, hands cradling his head, as he tries to get a hold of himself together. Suddenly he hears him. He hears his son shouting, "Dad! Dad!" followed by his laughter.

Thinking he'd finally gone insane, he looks up expecting to see some random kid yelling for their father. Instead he's met with the sight of his Tubbo running around the playground as fast as his little feet will carry him, giggling as a little blonde boy chases him. "Tub-Tubbo?" his own words are nothing but whispers, but his son is shouting, "Dad!" another giggle, "Dadza! Dadza!" a man with large black wings stands from his bench to catch Tubbo as he launches himself into his arms, "Tommy's chasing me! He's chasing me!" the man laughs as the other boy, presumably Tommy, runs into the man's legs, "We're playing tag dummy! I'm supposed to chase you!" the three laugh as the man sits down once again, Tubbo still in his arms, and Tommy clambers onto the bench as well.

Schlatts face is wet with tears. He's alive. Tubbo was alive. His son was alive and happy and‐ and without him. Without his parents. Grief rocks Schlatts body once more, a single sob escaping him before he rubs his eyes, takes 3 deep breaths, and collects himself.

What mattered here was that Tubbo was safe. He was alive. And he was happy. Schlatt stands, sparing a final glance at his son, silently thanking the man for taking him in, and he begins to walk away without turning back.

Tubbo turns in time to see a man with ram horns turn the corner as he walks away. "....dad?" his smile dropped as he pulled away from Phil, walking to where he saw the man. "Tubbo? What's wrong?" Phil asked, the concern evident in his voice. Tubbo says nothing and instead makes his way over to the sidewalk, Phil and Tommy close behind.

As he stepped into the middle of the walkway he saw no one. His little eyebrows knit together as he turns back to face them. "I thought… I thought I saw my dad...but I haven't seen him in so long- it probably wasn't even him." There's an odd mixture of emotion laced in his words as they make their way back to the bench. "'M sorry Tubbo. Do you want to go back home?" Tubbo nods, taking Phil's hand and Tommy goes over and grabs Tubbos' other hand. He smiles at the younger boy, and Tubbo finds it in him to smile back.

As they begin their trek home Tubbo thinks about the man he saw, and how he could've sworn he recognized his horns.

He could've sworn he recognized his dad's horns.

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mystic-sky · 3 years

Note

Hello! Gojo Saturo’s birthday is in a few days and may I request a fan fic where the reader surprise him with a cake in sexy bunny outfit in mesh stockings? (I’m currently watching the anime Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai) and the idea came up when I saw the outfit hehe love you!

Hi!! I love that anime! Sorry for the late post love, but it’s still an hour before his birthday ends where I live 💕✨ I didn’t know if you wanted food play with the cake??? It mostly focuses around the outfit. Enjoy.

Warnings: Just Birthday NSFW

Word Count: 2.0K

Sometimes when you start dating someone, you find yourself doing things you never figured you’d be into. Your boyfriend was a man of many kinks, slowly introducing you to things and helping you flesh out your own sexual desires. Not only did you try new things for him because you loved him, but you trusted him so much each time afterwards because it was all so enjoyable.

Months before his birthday, he sparked an idea. You were in the kitchen, fixing dinner for the both of you.

“A bunny girl outfit?” You question, shifting your stance a bit. In the few years you had been dating, Satoru had never touched on role play or dress up before.

“Yes~” He sung. “Like that one anime, do you know it?”

You nodded, feeling a bit tense. Could you pull something like that off?

You set your cooking ladle down. “When my birthday comes I’m gonna make you do something even crazier.”

The look on Satoru’s face was one of intrigue, but there was a splash of fear in the corners of his pupils. You had always managed to be exceptionally good at pleasing him. He hoped what you had in mind wouldn’t be too crazy, although he was down for anything.

He spent the rest of that evening leaning on the kitchen counter and trying to get you to confess if you had been agreeing to wear the bunny outfit and what were you bargaining for.

When his birthday came months later, you took your chances at the costume store. You knew he’d forgotten all about the idea since you never gave him a forward answer. You took advantage of this, and waited until the day of to go shopping. You bought multiple sizes to be sure you got the best fitting one, since you were rushing to make it home before Satoru. You stood in your apartment hallway, swaying in the mirror.

The things I do for him, you think.

Looking at yourself from head to toe, you were almost upset that the smug bastard knew you’d look good in a bunny outifit. You looked over your shoulder at your backside.

“This things lifts your butt so well.” You felt so sexy, more confidence than you had imagined passed over your body.

You make haste towards the living room, eagerly placing the candles on top of the cake you had bought earlier on the coffee table. You could hear him turning the keys in the door behind you. He was greeted by your fluffy, white bunny tail and big juicy bottom.

“Woah, you actually did it.” You jumped a bit as he swung the door open. “I have to admit, seeing you on your knees as soon as I get home is always a treat.”

You bring yourself to your feet, lighter in hands. You flash him a warm smile.

“Welcome back,” you say.

“Oh I feel welcomed,” he begins, walking towards you to take you in with his eyes. He sets his sunglasses on the side table beside the couch.

“Ah-ah-ah-” you begin. “Go wash your hands!”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Will do m’lady.”

You turn backwards, opening the packaging on the new lighter you bought. You bent over, continuing to intently space out the candles for him. You quickly clicked towards the kitchen to grab the wine and some glasses. You set them both down beside the cake as you struggled to open the bottle.

You felt his presence behind you as you swung yourself around.

“I figured we could have a bit of fun before dinner.” You say, pressing the wine bottle to your breasts. You patted the one-person sofa beside you. You watched him pull his lip between his teeth as he giddily sat down, spreading his legs. You poured him a glass, watching him sip as he eyeballed you.

“I feel like I’ve got my own little personal play boy bunny.”

“Just for tonight,” you said, placing the bottle on the table.

“Does that mean I can have anything I want?”

“Don’t I spoil you enough?” You raise a brow, adjusting the cuffs around your wrists.

“I’m sort of a bottomless pit. I’m always up for more.” He says slyly, pulling you between his legs.

“Turn around for me,” he says, fingers just barely holding the tips of your own. You smile, spinning your body so he could see your butt.

“Baby... I know it was sort of my idea, but just how am I going to fuck you in this thing. It’s so fucking tight.”

You felt him playing and flicking the tail of your costume whilst his other hand cupped your ass cheek above the mesh stockings.

“I’ve got buttons...” you say shyly, bending over for him to see the thick clothed part of your core.

“Ohh~ how convenient.” He sung, sliding and pressing a finger against your hot clothed sex. You shuddered a bit, before standing up straight and turning around.

“This is truly a treat, sweetheart.” He brought his large hands up to caress the back of your thighs. “It’s taking a lot for me to not pounce on you right now.”

You could tell he was enjoying the sight of you.

“Don’t fret, I’ll wear it a little while longer.” You assure him, falling to your knees. You loosely bring your fingers up to his white dress shirt, loosening his tie and a few buttons as well.

“I hope you weren’t planning on wearing this to dinner.” You say, dragging your fingers down the exposed part of his chest.

“Just how messy are we about to get, honey?” He smirked.

You only stare at him, feeling his chest up some more. He smiles back before taking up the glass beside him on the end table, taking a sip while he sits back and looks at you. He watches you feel against the bulge in his suit pants. He takes a brief look at his watch before looking back at you.

“Dinner’s at 8.”

He watched you unbuckle his pants and pull his length out in front of you. You brought the tip to your mouth before speaking.

“I’ve got time.” You swallow him whole, feeling him shift in the chair. He’s holding back a groan, having not expected you to take him in so deeply right off the bat.

“You just threw your gag reflex out the window, huh?” He managed to say.

You released your mouth, bunny ears flopping back while you bobbed your head on the tip alone. You swirled your tongue around him, shutting him up immediately.

He set the glass down, and rested his fingers in your hair.

“What a sweet girl, spoiling Daddy like this on his birthday.”

You take hold of his base, stroking in tune with your sucking while he shifted beneath you. You could feel yourself getting wet as his moans filled the space in the living room. You hummed against his length, tongue sending vibrations through his shaft and his body. You released him from your mouth, jerking him whilst you attached your lips to his balls. You sucked softly, swirling your hot tongue over the soft skin.

He lost it from this unfortunately, shooting loads out onto your hand without warning. You quickly took the tip of his length back into your mouth, sucking the remnants of his orgasm from the source.

“Fuck~” He shuddered. So much semen filled your mouth and you swallowed what you could as the rest of it slipped down your chin and onto your breasts.

You let go of his length with a popping noise.

“How long were you holding that in?” You asked him, licking your fingers. He loved watching you do that.

“Long enough,” he said, cocking his head back. “Now come sit on it for me.”

Your body was ready. You could feel your nipples getting irritatingly hard as they pressed against the firm fabric of the suit. You unbuttoned the bottom piece of it as you climbed on top of him.

“And now...“ He gripped your ass cheeks. “...to unwrap you.”

You felt him claw your mesh stockings with both hands, ripping them so wide and way beyond wearing them ever again.

“Satoru!” You whined. You owned plenty of black stockings, but that didn’t mean he could just rip them as he pleased.

“Ah-ah-ah, it’s my birthday, remember?” He mimicked. You held your tongue.

“How could I forget...” you mutter, positioning yourself above his length. He squeezed your exposed cheeks so hard you probably bruised.

“You’re so cute when you talk under your breath like that.” He teased.

“Shut up,” you say, holding his length as you slide onto it. He bites back a moan as you coat his dick with so much slick his pants started getting stained. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

“Mhnnngh...” He bit his lip. “Fuck- sweetheart I can’t make any promises.”

You only smile at him, fighting back your own moans as you rock against him. He releases his grip on you like you asked, placing his hands on both arm rests and watching you start to bounce on his length. You rest your arms on his shoulders, throwing your head back, bunny ears flopping erratically. He watched your breasts shake about, suit almost exposing your nipples to the air.

Watching you ride him like that made it hard for him to keep his hands to himself. He would often have to force himself into being sub when you got on top like that. He claimed it was part of making you feel like you were truly dominating him every once in a while. You were just the cutest, and you were wearing this costume just for him. He wanted you to have your moment.

“Just like that baby,” he hummed. He felt your hand clutch his jaw, pressing a hot kiss to his wine stained lips. He moaned against you, finally wrapping his arms around you.

“You know I can’t help myself, and it’s my birthday~” He says against your lips.

You rolled your eyes, kissing him deeper. He hummed against you, sliding his body down in his seat.

“You know, speaking of my birthday, you haven’t said it since this morning.” He said smugly, pushing your body upwards. He starts thrusting into you from underneath, earning broken and sloppy moans from you.

“Won’t you tell me again, pretty please?”

He was mocking you. He knew you weren’t capable of saying it- at least not coherently and definitely not when he was pumping you so quickly and so deeply like that. You were nearing an orgasm, and your heels were slipping off your feet while he was at work against you.

“Honey, I’m waiting. Say it.” He hummed. Somehow he said it so seriously you didn’t want to test him further.

“H-Hap...Hap-py B-Birthday.” You moaned brokenly as he pounded into you.

“Such a sweet girl. That wasn’t hard at all, was it? Now let it all out.”

His thick length throbbed against your walls. While you climaxed around him, both your heels hit the carpet with a thud as you cried out his name.

The best but worst part about sex with Satoru is that you’d never get used to how he’d overstimulate you every time you came. Sure you always get to ride your orgasm out, but you’d be quivering, and barely put together the whole time until he came. Just like now, you had melted into him, gripping and wrinkling the collars of his dress shirt, voice cracking against his ears as he came inside you. He had filled you up, overflowing his semen and spilling onto his pants. He shuddered, chest rising and falling against your breasts.

You both stayed there like that for a bit, gathering yourselves.

“I’ve got more for you after we get home from dinner.” He said as you sat up above him.

“You’ll be pushing your third orgasm. You sure you got juice left?” You say smugly.

“Oh, always.” He grinned.

And so much for the cake.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo sensei #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk x reader

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

Hello!!! Soooo I came up with a few headcanons for Muslim Bakugou, JajkjGhoA I can't wait to read your response! 😫🤲💖

Okay! So he is definitely the good husband who does house chores! He actually helps around the house, knows how to do all the chores, and all the other girls are so jealous of you lolll

He will make you the best food! He knows all your favourite dishes, and will spoil you with his cooking! Also he will make your favourite desserts as a form of apology for when he pisses you off or makes you upset

Will feed you when he's trying out new dishes, and when you're getting married during the mehndi, when you feed him laddu or gulab jamun, he will blush so hard but also holds your wrist to "guide" you, as everyone giggles and teases you two for being so flustered and blushy around each other

If you make his favorite dishes?? Like okay imagine you make his fav dish (after asking the bakusquad cuz he's hard to approach lol) and subtly give it to him or maybe get Kirishima to give it to him as you leave the mosque or arrive at some community party or something, homeboi will blush so hard and will not let anyone have even the tiniest bite of your cooking

As a thanks he will buy you churiyan! He will see you admiring them and will come up and awkwardly but gruffly ask you if you like that certain churiyan set (that is like a pretty red and gold) and when you say yes, he will proceed to buy it for you, and omg if the bakusquad see this, Denki and Sero will definitely tease him and be like you should put them on her! While you're like omg! Wait, the adults will see! And he just surprises everyone as he gently grabs your hand and puts them on you and just admires how soft your hands are, and how they fit in his hand, and thinks about how pretty they would look with a wedding ring on them, and you are just standing there blushing so hard, and when he sees you wearing those churiyan at other events he feels so proud and possessive and happy

Weak for your smile and laugh, and very protective of you, will blow someone's head off for making you upset or for disrespecting you. Your parents love him so much, will immediately say yes to the rishta! Also, his parents love you so much, you and Masaru are the calm to Bakugou and Mitsuki raging tempers lmfaoo

You're the only one who gets to see his soft side and soft while without being threatened with death loll lucky youuu~ Also! Everyone will tease him sooooo much for being soft for you, the girls and aunties always giggle when they see how soft he is with you when you guys are out in public and he won't deny it either loll

In public he's kinda reserved with pda, but likes it when you hold his hand or loosely hook your arm around his muscled arms. He will however, put an arm on your lower back to steer you away from an uncomfortable situation or will step in front of you to protect you

In private he will be cuddly, loves wrapping his arms around you, forhead kisses too! You will be a blushing, flustered mess as he leans down by your ear and teases you about it in his low gruff voice. Also just loves the feel of your soft body against his

Also! Omg say its eid or something, and you're getting your mehndi done, the bakusquad will push him to sit with you and help you since you're mehndi is still wet. He will gruffly compliment your mehndi design, will get you food and feed it to you, will softly but hesitantly brush your hair away from your face when he sees that its bugging you, and this will make your both blush, and omg he will have the softest look in this eyes at that moment, and his hand will linger by your pretty earnings, and will just gaze at your lips with a lustful gaze as you softly whisper thank you

When the mehndi dries, and Denki makes a comment about how dark and rich the color is and is like damn Bakugou you really have it bad for y/n huh? Both of you will be so flustered and while Bakugou chases Denki while yelling that hes gonna blow his head off, you just stand there will Mina and Ochako and giggle at his antics, and the girls will tease you about you have gotten Bakugou wrapped around your fingers and that you shouldn't be surprised when his parents approach your parents with a rishta

AunwQniwa anyways Muslim Bakugou will love you so much and cherish you and just RIP to your heart 😫😭💖

YO YES MY GAWD LETS ASSESS THIS MFKIN FOOD YOU JUST GAVE US

okay so 100% YES!! Y’all seen mitsuki? She ain’t havin none of that “I’m the only son so treat me like a king” bs. No no, our girlboss femdom Mistski Auntie has her two boys cookin and cleanin every weekend and massaging her feet, as she SHOULD!

These habits carry on to when he gets married also. His wife could be doing the dishes one day right after their wedding and he would walk by, peeking over her shoulder at her hand-to-sponge technique.

“You’re doing it wrong dumbass. Use the hard side to scrub the crumbs off and then the soft side to polish it.” He snatches the plate from your hands and starts vigorously rubbing it the way you couldn’t. You stare at him, flabbergasted that a mom in the desi community has actually succeeded in raising her son right.

“‘The fuck are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” you quickly say, stepping aside to let him work his magic. He merely grunts and picks up the next bowl.

In a moment of bravado, you lean over to kiss his cheeks. He stops scrubbing and just stares at the sponge in his hands, his face slowly going red as a beet.

When you two fight, you already know he’s gonna be yelling at the top of his lungs and stomping around the house, the explosions from his hands searing the furniture around you.

It’s enough to set you off and storm out of the house too. You need a fucking break, he can be so much to handle sometimes.

It’s around late evening that you come back in the garage from wherever you decide to cool off from. The house is silent and dark from the outside so you assume he fell asleep with the usual scowl on his face.

You sigh and drop your keys and purse on the counter, exhausted from the day’s drama. Form the corner of your eye you see a small candle on the kitchen table alight, and you walk over to put it out.

Except right in front of the candle, there’s a small plate of mithai(sweets) that has a note attached to it.

“Sorry for being an ass” is written in his chicken scratch writing. You smile and shake your head, taking a bite from the surprisingly well-made gulaab jamun.

It’s a good thing Katsuki hid Sato’s recipe in one of the cabinets before you came home.

And just like you said, the man is WHIPPED for your cooking. He’s always pulling you to the kitchen and lightly shoving you around the stove, gruffly telling you to add more spices that he knows you can recreate to a T.

Whenever the Bakusquad comes over to hang out, you try to cook the same way you know Katsuki likes (extra spicy), but for some reason on those exact days you can’t seem to find any of your special ingredients…

At other times maybe before your marriage, when he first began falling in love with you he would see you admiring a vendor’s churiyaan and earrings.

He would quietly walk up behind you maybe a foot or two away, observing how you fit the bangles on your wrist.

“I like the red ones on you,” he says lowly, making sure to dwindle down his usual aggressive tone.

You turn and gently smile at him. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because red is what brides wear.”

Your heart beats fast as he takes your wrist, oh so delicate compared to his callous large hands.

“And the silver makes me think of the ring I’ll have on you in no time soon.”

Bakugo closes his eyes in front of you and inhales, letting you know that everything about you draws him closer.

When you guys walk around a college campus or even in town, he’s always looking left and right shiftily, convinced that every man within a mile of you is trying to steal you away. He’ll stand in front of you when a guy asks you where a certain building is, he’ll glare at his friends when they get too rowdy and rough with you, but he still gets nervous for PDA. He knows how fast word travels around in desi communities so he doesn’t want to do anything in public, but fuck when he gets home he’s pinning you on the bed and resting his entire weight on you.

At eid as stated above^^ he’ll see you in your lengha or kurti and get INSANELY nervous and flustered at your beauty. The way you sit poised and laughing with Mina and ochako while your mehndi is being done makes his palms sweat and his armpits prickly. He has to wipe them on his kameez almost three times before taking one last look at you and walking away.

Well, at least he tries to walk away. He’s promptly sought out and grabbed by his three cronies, who drag him by nail and tooth towards you. No amount of swearing and growling threats to ‘blow their ass up so bad people will piecing them back together for weeks” stops them from bringing him closer to you.

“Yeah yeah, you said that already,” Denki smirks and playfully zaps his ass so that he helps and lurches forwards towards you.

The commotion makes the girls look up and wave excitedly when they spot the rowdy men.

You bite your lip and give Bakugo a meek little grin, which makes steam curl from his ears.

“Heyyy ladiesss, got room for one more?” Sero drawls and throws an arm over the simmering grenade of a man.

“Hmm,” Mina mockingly contemplates for a minute before she slowly starts to get up, uraraka following pursuit. “Not at the moment, but maybe we could make some room…” she tackles Bakugo and Kirishima also kicks the back of his knees so that he folds cleanly into the chair next to you.

You look bewildered at everybody while they snicker at Bakugo’s vermillion face.

He glared at them and after an oblivious moment or two they get the hint and wink before backing off.

“So, uh, how long have you been getting your hand done for?”

You grin at his inexperience with these kinds of things, but still indulge him.

“About 25 minutes or so.”

“25 min-“ his eyes grow wide and the whole hall turns to him as he screams at your poor designer for making you ‘sit on her cute ass for such a goddamn long time. And why the hell doesn’t she have food yet??’

At least he thought you were cute

💓💓

#Muslim Bakugo #desi Bakugo #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bakugo fluff #hot moots

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solarwonux · 3 years

Text

An Unforgettable Dinner - Valentine’s Day Drabble #3

soft!dom mingyu x f!reader x soft!dom chan

w.c: 2.0k

warnings: LOTS of teasing, toys (vibrator), public sex (kind off just squint everyone), humiliation, Mingyu is a little shit, orgasm denial, poly relationshi, daddy kink if you like squint, slight degradation, (very minimal editing)

note: this was a prompt from my drabble game, but I enjoyed it too much that I thought why not add it to this mini series lol. Enjoy and please please let me know your thoughts.

also i will be answering asks tonight hehehe and everyone else that left me lovely comments on my feedback rant lol

masterlist || drabble game

“You should wear that more often.”

You jumped upon hearing the smoky lip of your boyfriend's voice. Quickly, you placed the glass of champagne onto the kitchen counter before scurrying and wrapping the sheer robe around yourself tightly. Failing to cover the baby pink lingerie set you adorned.

He wasn’t supposed to be home yet.

They weren’t supposed to be home yet, because if Mingyu was home that only meant that Chan was home too.

“W-What are you guys doing here?” You turned around, setting your elbow down onto the counter awkwardly. The loud drone of the old Jazz record you had playing, didn’t do much to cover your embarrassment and the loud beating of your heart as you looked at both Mingyu and Chan’s smug expression.

“This is our house too baby.” Chan spoke before pushing himself off the wall. He walked past you dropping his bag onto one of the kitchen chairs, your eyes following his movements closely as he walked to the record player and turned it off. “Valentine’s Day and our anniversary isn’t for another week, what’s the special occasion?” He put the record needle back onto its respective spot and took off the record carefully, looking around for the sleeve before spotting it haphazardly thrown on the couch. With a tisking sound, a shake of his head and a quick glance at Mingyu then you, he walked towards it.

“I’m willing to overlook the mal-treatment of my records if you answer Chan’s question...and honestly.” Mingyu’s voice grabbed your attention once again, this time obviously annoyed.

Mingyu’s records were his prized possession, sometimes treating them like they were his second skin or his first offspring. He never forbade you or Chan from using them as long as you abided by his rules and more often than not you would forget, Chan always covering up for you so you wouldn’t have to listen to another version of the same lecture Mingyu always gave.

“Um...no special occasion I just wanted to try on the set I bought last week for our anniversary night.” You mumbled playing with the feathered sleeves of your sheer robe. It was true, your plan had been fool proof until it wasn’t. You were only going to wear it for a few minutes, take some polaroids to leave hidden around the house for them to find and take it off before they came home. Though, you had gotten ahead of yourself the second you saw how beautiful it looked on your body. How it made your insecurities fade away slowly. In celebration for the new found confidence you didn’t want to stray away from yet. You had opened a bottle of champagne and put on your favorite record as you lingered around the living room with a giddy nature that only a child on Christmas morning would have.

“It’s a shame we were spoiled, now this is all I’m going to think about for the entirety of next week.” Chan said as he walked back to the shelves that kept your books and Mingyu’s record collection. He held it by the denting corners of the sleeve twirling it mindlessly as he went over the abc’s in his mind, before finding its rightful spot between L and N and slipping it back in.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you felt the tension grow in between the three points of the living room where the three of you were standing in. Chan was now leaning against the bookshelf, arms crossed chewing on his bottom lip, while Mingyu still hadn’t moved from his spot by the front door with you trapped in between them now, holding onto one of the kitchen chairs, keeping your balance. Their looks were almost predatory and it made the skin of your arms rise as well as the desire between your legs.

There was no way you would survive this night untouched.

“Why don’t we get a preview, it would be waste to at least not see something you’ve planned for us.” Mingyu nodded, Chan making a sound that can only be categorized as one of approval. Though, you felt weak in the knees ready to drop for them. The confidence you found yourself ensuing when wearing this particular innocent looking set, overcame your senses.

“Buy me dinner and I’ll think about it.”

“What’s wrong baby, you wanted dinner didn’t you?”

You gripped Chan’s forearm like a vice, and bit your lip hard trying to subside the moans that were threatening to spill out.

Your confidence had depleted to nothing when they both agreed and told you that they would wait in the car for you as you finished getting dressed. On the way towards the hole in the wall restaurant the three of you often visited. One of Mingyu’s hands was gripping the steering wheel hard, while the other found its way inside of your leggings, teasing your slit over your panties.

“She’s wet enough love.” Mingyu spoke, sending Chan a knowing look through the rearview mirror in which you caught. It only made you wonder if they had had this entire night planned out and your suspicions only grew when Chan had fished out a tiny hot pink vibrator before handing it over to you.

“Put it inside of you baby.” Chan smirked at you through the rearview mirror before planting a sloppy wet kiss against your cheek. At first you declined, called the two of them insane for suggesting such a thing, let alone in public. But then the thought of them teasing you in public became more appealing and arousing to you, that silently you obliged to their commands. Which is how you found yourself at a loss for words and appetite and on the brink of yet another orgasm, digging your nails into Chan’s bicep as they both ate happily, chatting up a storm.

“This isn’t fair.” You breathed out, the vibrations dying down to almost nothing, enough for you to breathe. You weren’t sure which of them was controlling the vibrator as they never faltered in giving themselves away.

“Babe if you don’t eat, your food will get cold.” Chan pointed out, placing his hand over yours and kissing your nose lightly. Your garlic noodles had become an afterthought even before you had ordered them, your mind was focused on the pusing vibrator against your clit and how desperately you needed to orgasm.

“F-Fuck the food Chan, please let me cum.” You whisper yelled, looking between both of your boyfriends and silently begging them. Whether it was a mistake or not you didn’t care, at least not until the vibrations started up again, this time faster than before. You let out a squeak hiding your pleasure stricken face in Chan’s arm, earning a chuckle from both men.

“Not until you eat all of your dinner, it’s what you wanted baby.” Mingyu said before reaching over and grabbing your head gently in his palms making you look at him. “You act like a brat, you get treated like one.” He whispered before placing a soft kiss against your swollen lips. Before you could respond he pulled back and sat back down, crossing his arms in front of him a smirk adorning his perfect features. “Now eat baby, eat and we’ll fuck you until you start seeing stars.” The vibrations died down again and finally you realized that one that was in control of your torture was the man sitting next to you.

“C-Chan, fuck, please just let me cum. I’ll be good, I’ll let the two of you fuck my mouth and my pussy but please I-I need to cum.” You begged and left peppering kisses against his neck. It was a good thing that the waiter had sat the three of you down in a booth, otherwise you wouldn’t have been openly expressing how desperate you were.

He shuddered and pushed you away before taking a bite out of his steak, ignoring you completely. You could tell that by the way his body had tensed up and how the vibrator moved inside of you at an overwhelming speed, he was close to giving in. If it wasn’t for Mingyu’s warning glare he would’ve given you all the orgasms you wanted, regardless of being in public or not.

“If you let her, you’ll be joining her.” Mingyu warned. It wasn’t often that Mingyu took over the dominant role in your relationship. Despite him being the one that looked more intimidating he was often underneath you or Chan when it came to the bedroom. Though, there were some days, like today in which his own mouth betrayed him as he spewed the dirtiest things for only you and Chan to hear.

You pushed your plate of food away and leaned your forehead against the table. The tears had started to pool up in the corner of your eyes as you tried to hold yourself back from your release. And when the vibrations stopped once again you let some of them go along with a sigh of relief. You sat back, whipping your eyes with the back of your hand and crossed your arms in front of you. Mingyu chewed happily on the piece of chicken he had in his mouth, as he looked at your fucked out state. He would be lying to himself if he said that he wasn’t itching to risk getting fined if it meant that he could bend you over the table and fuck you. But his self control was far greater than anything on this planet. He had proved it to both you and Chan whenever the two of you would edge him on for hours.

“C-Chan, baby, just let cum please.” You looked over at him, your eyes blotchy, looking so fucked out, wishing that he was home instead of the stupid restaurant. He wasn’t even enjoying his food anymore.

You leaned over and placed a soft kiss against the back of his ear, where his sweet spot was and you saw him grip the handle of his knife hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. “I-I feel so good, don’t you want to feel good with me.” You kissed down his neck and ran your hand over his clothed cock. He was so hard that you let yourself moan loud enough for your two boyfriends to hear, but low enough for it to be drowned out by the loud music that was playing.

“Fuck, you just want everyone to see how cock hungry you are, isn’t that right baby?” Mingyu tilted his head, his hands holding onto the table to keep himself from touching himself. In truth you and Chan were his weaknesses and more often than not the two of you used that knowledge to your advantage.

“Yes, I want them to know how much I love being full of cock and cum.” You moaned, your grip on Chan’s cock faltering when the vibrator started up again. It overwhelmed your senses, as you felt your orgasm approach even faster than before.

“Then cum for us.” Chan whispered in your ear. He had kept his hands away from you the entire time he was controlling the device inside of you, but now he had placed a hand on the inside of your thigh, massaging it gently as he whispered dirty praises in your ear. All while eyeing your boyfriend from across the table.

Before you knew it, you felt yourself release, falling forward, your forehead hitting the table gently as it traveled through you faster than the speed of light. Mingyu let out a very telling low groan, while Chan’s hand rubbed your back gently. The vibrations against the walls of your pussy came to a complete stop as they fluttered around the hot pink device.

“Good job baby, you did so good for us and look no one even noticed.” Chan said teasingly before sitting the two of you back, your head against his shoulder as he caressed your arm gently, calming you down.

“That was so fucking sexy, f-fuck. We need to leave now.” Mingyu rushed out raising his hand up to call over the waiter.

“No, like you said we need to finish your food first, so be a good boy for me love and put your hand down. We have a long night ahead of us and the two of you need all the energy you can get.” Chan said, before shoving another piece of his steak into his mouth. You knew him being quiet and letting Mingyu take control was just for show. You watched as Mingyu’s overly dominant confidence left his body slowly as he obeyed and lowered his hand, swallowing slowly.

“Daddy can we punish him?” You smirked and looked up at Chan, resting your chin against his shoulder. You saw a menacing smile appear on his face, indicating that he was more than a fan of the idea of having Mingyu at both of your mercy’s.

“Of course baby girl.”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen mingyu #seventeen chan #seventeen dino #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu fanfic #mingyu smut #dino imagines #dino fanfiction #dino x reader #dino smut

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dancingwiththeplanets · 3 years

Text

An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter two

Boba Fett x fem!reader

chapter 1 / masterlist

Summary: A few days after the incident in the throne room, Boba hovers around you like a shadow worried you’ll leave him. You try to reassure him through small, intimate moments with him that there’s no place you’d rather be.

A/N: Really trying to expand on the idea that a gorgeous palace lays hidden underground/ behind the throne room! Also, I think we can all start calling this Boba’s Palace now, jabba is gone. Sorry for the low quality edit it’s my first one haha

Warnings: dancing!boba, protective!boba, suggestive content, plain old day at the palace, soft!boba, not a lot of content tbh but cute moments and we get to know our OC Mandos Raul and Enzo, I didn’t plan this out, im sorry

Word Count: 4.5k+

---------------------------------

The ballroom, though practically useless in its existence and never actually having served its purpose, has recently become one of your favorite rooms in the palace. Initially, you didn’t know what to do with the space. It’s not like Boba seized at the idea of throwing a ball and inviting a group of strangers into the palace, providing anyone the opportunity to discover the secrets hidden behind the throne room. Let alone risk letting an adversary sneak their way in and stirring up trouble.

Nonetheless, you’ve taken it upon yourself to spruce the place up. It is, after all, one of the grander rooms in the castle, with paintings coating the ceiling and the walls bordered with columns.

It’s actually extremely beautiful, you’ve decided, wiping your forehead against your light-blue sleeve, frowning when it comes back brown from the dust that’s stuck to your face. It seemed like a sensible thing to wear this morning. A loose fitting blue blouse with flowy pants to match, secured in the middle by a slightly darker sash. Your pant legs were tucked into your boots so as not to get in the way. It was one of the more cozy and plain things you owned, though not poor in quality by any standards. The fabric was refined, flowy and soft against your skin. Quite honestly, even in your working clothes, you looked nicer than you felt you deserved to. But far be it for Boba to allow his princess to wander around in anything but the best.

The week you’d moved in was a busy one, filled with surprises and adjustments that were quite honestly overwhelming. You arrived at Boba’s palace with a literal sack over your shoulder, enough to stash your small wardrobe of two garments and a few trinkets of personal value. Tatooine was a simple place, you only owned what you absolutely needed. And you, being a young and simple waitress at the local cantina, could barely make enough to cover your cost of living. You were never awarded the luxury of having needless objects.

The first few days of your arrival, Boba had stuck to your side like glue, making sure you got around okay and had everything you needed. Initially, he’d even had a seperate room made up for you to stay in. It was absolutely beautiful, by far the lightest room in the entire palace, though lacking in a window. It was one of the biggest, not as impressive as his own chambers, but still spacious. He decorated the room with paintings and furniture and accented the space with hues of blue and gold. Unfortunately, the pretty room barely got any good use out of it.

Boba escorted you to your quarters on your first night, cradling your chin and kissing your forehead at the door, bidding you goodnight. He reminded you where you could find something to sleep in, having delighted himself in surprising you with an entirely new wardrobe.

You pulled on a satin, lavender slip, admiring the foreign material for a long while as it weighed so delicately on your form. You took your time readying yourself for bed before crawling in and feeling engulfed by pillows. Once you settled, left alone to your anxious thoughts and feelings, you suddenly felt overwhelmed by the exquisite room embracing you. A flutter of giddiness and exhilaration filled you, your mind and body enraptured by the day's events. You felt absolutely spoiled.

Feeling bold on an entirely unnatural level, you slipped away from the warm, velvety comforter and tiptoed to the door. With a rush of courage, your hand met the handle and you stepped out, bare feet cold against the tile floor. You peeked around before quickly darting down the hall, forever grateful that not a soul was around to see your practically naked form running by, before ascending the stairs that led to Boba’s door.

You lifted your hand, your knuckle knocking gently three times against the rough surface.

You heard Boba shifting on the other side of the door, tugging down on your nightgown that just barely cleared your thighs. The hinges of the door creaked as they turned, opening slowly to reveal a very smug looking Boba in just his underclothes.

He hummed, eyes tracing over your form with a shake of his head. “Wandering the halls looking like that.” He chided, gently grabbing you by the waist and pulling you through the door, “That’ll get you into trouble, little one.”

-----------------------------

You smile as you recall the memory. Suffice to say, you didn’t end up sleeping in your own quarters that night, or any night after that, for that matter. Though Boba’s honorable gesture in providing you with your own space was not lost on you.

Continuing on with your endeavors, you move to stand from your crouch on the ground, simultaneously trying to tighten the blue sash wrapped around your middle. You gasp as you run into a hard surface, exhaling in relief as Boba braces you in front of him.

Mumbling an apology, you watch as his helmeted face looks you up and down, steady hands holding you out from him.

“What?” You ask, a smile making its way to your cheeks.

“Your outfit, it...looks like something I wore as I boy.” He says adoringly, now fondling the blue sash at your hips.

You glance down again at your form, a matching blue blouse and trousers tucked into simple black boots. “I...look like you as a young boy?” You counter, earning a deep chuckle from your lover.

“Well I looked rather plain in it,” He says, “I don’t think I looked half as radiant as you do.”

“So you do like it?” You ask.

“Of course I like it,” He grins, “I bought it.”

You shake your head as you carry on with your tasks, allowing Boba to shadow your movements for a while before leaving you again to carry on with his own agenda.

You spend the next few hours actively scrubbing away at the room, feeling especially motivated to complete it, not like all the other half-finished rooms scattered about the palace, which is partly your fault. But the ballroom felt different, once you dusted away all the grime and filth and replaced the lighting in the ceilings to give the room more life, it really started to come together. Unfortunately, your previously clean clothes and skin were paying the price for the hard work being done, you definitely looked a little worse for wear. Wisps of hair beginning to tickle your cheeks from where they’d fallen loose from your braid.

Currently, you were taking extra care to polish a beautiful mosaic decorating the inside of an archway. Thousands of small, colorful shards lined neatly together to form the image of a bold Tatooine sunset. One of the few grand beauties your home planet was known for. A surprisingly lovely work of art left behind, albeit not properly cared for, by the previous inhabitants of the palace.

You admire the artwork for a while after polishing it to near perfection, letting your bum fall to the floor and legs splay out comfortably in front of you. Your wrists support your upper body, arms holding you up as you lean back onto them, head tilting lazily to one side.

You find yourself distracted from your glossed over gaze by Boba, who seems to have wandered his way in here for the third time today. Enzo tails him a few paces behind, but stops to stand guard idly by the door. You can’t imagine he or Raul feel as though they serve any real purpose wandering these empty halls, probably much preferring when they get to patrol the throne room or secure the perimeter.

Boba approaches you, pausing over your fatigued form and huffing out a laugh when you don’t move to stand, instead opting to gaze up at him with tired, doe eyes. He holds a hand out to you and you groan, placing your palm in his as he hoists you up.

“The room looks lovely.” He says, voice raspy through the modulator as he looks around.

The praise makes you smile. “Come see what I found,” You say, leading him by the hand. You open a large dresser to the right, stuffed full of old vinyls and a polished record player sitting proudly atop. You carefully choose a record, placing it beneath the needle and starting the track, allowing it to play soothingly in the background as you guide him around the rest of the room.

He follows you around, listening to you babble about the lovely art on the ceiling and how nice the light looks coming through the one, boxy window at the top. He watches the childlike sparkle and admiration in your eyes as you point out different things you’ve noticed, the excitement trickling out in your tone.

His mind contemplates how different this life is from the one you used to have. You went from a one room, compact home, just barely big enough for your small bed, to a palace filled with grand staircases, hallways and countless bedrooms, a blissful dream in your eyes. Nevermind the fact that you were still stuck on Tatooine. In fact, you seemed happy to stay, oddly attached to the sandy planet, something Boba found amusing.

A couple trips around the room later, and a few songs having gone by, the two of you now stand in the center of the empty room. Him, groaning in protest, and you, placing his hand on your waist yet again. You’ve spent the last few minutes trying to teach him a basic waltz, something your father had taught you when you were little. A rare memory you shared with him before he...well-

“Boba,” You scold with a giggle, “Try again.” Your request earns you another frustrated grumble from your partner. At some point you were able to coerce him into dancing with you, having pleaded desperately when your favorite classic came on. “C’mon, you nearly had it that time!”

He sighs loudly, tilting his helmet in an exasperated fashion. “Last time,” He says with finality, his finger raised in your direction.

You nod your head, an amused grin spread wide on your face.

He holds tight to your waist and reaches for your other hand, a final effort to humor you.

“And...1, 2, 3...1, 2, 3..” You begin moving again to the music, trying to swallow the snicker working its way up at the image of your armored partner staring at your feet for guidance. Visor following your every move, looking unsure and sloppy and quite honestly graceless.

You jump at the voice of a forgotten presence in the room.

“No! No, no, no, boss.” Enzo finally pipes up, his silent and judgemental self unable to be contained any longer. He moves forward with a swagger in his step as he struts towards you from his previous position against the wall, “You’ve gotta lead her by the waist,” He says pointedly, reaching for you “Observe-”

Boba’s arm shoots out, blocking Enzo by the pauldron, “You touch her, you're a dead man.” He growls, deflecting his attempt to take you by the waist.

You jerk slightly at the interaction, rolling your eyes and waiting for the show of dominance to subside.

Enzo’s hands raise in surrender, bowing away respectfully before returning to his earlier stance, no doubt a grin slapped on beneath his visor.

Boba’s hand returns to your waist with a shake of his head, noting your half-suppressed chuckle, evidently amused by the encounter.

“Alright,” He grunts, “once more.”

You start counting aloud, moving at a pace Boba can keep up with. You step out on the final eight count and slowly twirl back into his arms, your back now braced against his front. He tugs at your hips, holding you closer, “Mm,” He hums in your ear as you sway in your position, “Well I do like this.”

The sound of his accented voice filtering through the modulator sends a shiver down your spine, and you breathe out a light exhale as he releases you a moment later, turning you to face him.

“See,” You sigh, “You can dance.”

He hums in response, turning around to retrieve his weapon.

You move to face your hired gun, again leaning casually against the entryway.

“Do you actually know how to dance, Enzo?” You ask, reflecting on his earlier attempt at an intervention.

“-Wouldn’t matter if he did.” Boba interjects loudly over his shoulder, dismissing any ideas before they transpired.

You hear a light chuckle emitting through Enzo’s modulator, turning back to see his stance remaining motionless aside from the slight jerk in his shoulders.

Boba returns to your side, tapping his forehead against yours in an obvious farewell.

Your head falls heavily to one side as you tenderly hold one of his gloved hands, fingers tracing the rough fabric of his own. “Is that all the time you’ve allotted for me today, my king?” You say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid.” He replies, “But perhaps I’ll come find you in a bit, see what further progress you’ve made.”

You nod, a slight frown tugging on your lips. You hesitate raising the concern suddenly weighing in your mind.

Ever since the incident with Crane occurred, Boba’s been...watchful. It’s not that he wasn’t protective of you before, it’s just that in the past few days he’s been protective of you in an entirely different way. He’s been hovering and checking in on you almost compulsively. Whereas before he seemed to want to keep you away during the busy hours of his day, now he seemed to want you near enough to reach in a moment's notice. Almost as if he’s worried you’ll abandon him when he’s not looking.

You wonder how he can still feel so worried after sharing such a fun and intimate moment with you.

So, you’ve given him some extra leeway, allowing him to hover to his heart's content until he seems secure in knowing that you’re not going anywhere.

That being said, you really didn’t mind Boba’s loitering close by to wherever you happened to be, you only wish you knew he wasn’t doing it because of the events that conspired earlier in the week.

“Boba,” You say lightly, catching his arm as he turns. “You don’t need to keep checking up on me, I’m not...you know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

He pauses at your words, hands stilling in their endeavor to tighten up loosened pieces of clothing and armor. You hope you haven't upset him in calling out his unusual conduct.

He averts his gaze to the side, pausing a moment before turning back to you. “I know.” He says nodding, a slight hint of defeat in his tone.

You hope perhaps some flattery will comfort him, stepping closer and lifting your gaze to meet his own. “My king,” you say in admiration, “You are a very busy man. You have a planet to rule. And an underworld to dominate. There are many things that I know put strain and worry in your mind, but whether or not your partner will still be here when you go looking for her should not be one of them.”

He doesn’t make any movements, and the face of his visor does little to allow you access to his thoughts.

“What I mean to say is,” You continue, “Go rule your empire. Your princess is safely stashed away in the palace you’ve encompassed her in.”

He breathes out a chuckle, and you smile, “I am happier here with you than I ever thought I’d be. I don’t want to be anywhere you won't be too, Boba Fett.” You reiterate your words from your conversation a few days ago. One that both started and ended with the two of you in tears. A rare moment between the two of you indeed. An exceedingly painful incident for him, having showcased the true depth of his love for you in such an unexpected and vulnerable way. And for you, to have seen the strongest and most fearless man you have ever known brought down to his knees, in tears, was absolutely gut-wrenching, especially in knowing that his own insecurities about your love had driven him to feel such fear.

You squeeze his arm and kiss the cheek of his helmet in valediction. His unmoving visor lingering on your face for an extended moment.

Boba’s hand makes its way to the back of your head, pulling you forward slightly before gently meeting you in the middle with his own helmet. Your foreheads pressed together in an intimate and tender kiss.

He pulls away silently, giving you a nod, a gesture you return with a small smile before watching him exit the room, Enzo in tow.

---------------------------------

You make your way to the kitchens, stomach growling unhappily at having been neglected all afternoon.

You pause under the doorway.

“I’ve seen you far too much today,” You sigh, feigning exasperation at the sight of Enzo shifting through the pantry for a meal to take to his room.

He stops his digging, turning to face you standing under the doorway before spinning back around.

“Vod’ika,” He greets, “Soup?” He holds a can up over his shoulder while reaching for a pot below the stove.

“No, thanks.” You say, approaching his station.

You pick up the canister of tomato soup, looking it over. “I doubt this tiny thing is even enough for just you.”

He glances down at the can in your hand. “I’ll do two then.”

You roll your eyes, what is it with these massive Mandalorians and not understanding proper nourishment?

“No, no.” You chide, “At least attempt to incorporate a healthy balance into your diet. Something with protein, maybe? Make a grilled porg-and-cheese melt to go with the soup. You can dip it in the broth, it’s delicious.”

His teal visor meets your face, shifting in uncertainty. “Can you do it?”

You sigh, “Fine.”

You get out the sandwich makings, opting to make one for yourself as well. You smear the bantha butter along four pieces of bread and grill them on a pan, layering sliced porg and cheese slices afterward.

You hear footsteps approaching the kitchen just as you’re pulling the finished sandwiches off the stove.

“Raul!” You greet with a smile, Enzo’s head whips in your direction. “We’re making sandwiches, want one?”

“You never sound that excited to see me.” Enzo declares.

You giggle at the accusation, sliding his sandwich onto a plate and handing it to him.

“Can I make you one, Raul?” You repeat.

He sighs, “No kid, thank you.” He steps forward and pulls Enzo’s plate from his hands, placing it away from him on the counter.

“Aye!” Enzo protests, wanting to transport his hot meal to his room so he could eat.

“We work for her,” Raul says, articulating the ‘we’ with an exaggerated hand gesture between the two of them. “You should be making her sandwich, not the other way around.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” You groan, looking between the pair of Mandalorians.

“Yeah, Raul,” Enzo mocks, a slightly more threatening air to his tone. He retrieves the stolen soup and sandwich, “Don’t be a di’kut.”

Raul’s helmet tilts slightly at Enzo’s words. Not knowing exactly what the word means, but starting to get an unsettling feeling in your stomach, you attempt to intervene, “Guys-”

Just a moment too late.

Raul clamps a hand on Enzo’s arm, jolting him back from trying to pass him. His hand smacks the plate out of Enzo’s hand, the glass shattering before it even reaches the floor, and the soup and sandwich splattering everywhere.

“I made that-” You frown.

Now with two free hands, Enzo grips Raul’s shoulders and shoves him back against the brick ovens, a rough grunt escaping Raul when his helmet meets the open face of a hanging pan.

“Please stop-” You yelp, wincing as Enzo’s fist uppercuts into the weak spot under Raul’s helmet.

For being half a head shorter and not as obviously built as his opponent, the Mandalorian in black and teal armor could sure hold his own.

Raul spits something out in mando’a, his words seething as he grabs onto the cuff of the smaller Mandalorians neck covering and throws him with little exertion to the floor. You hear the crunching of glass beneath Raul’s boots as he growls with a foot on pressing to Enzo’s chest in an effort to force him into submission.

“-I wish you guys wouldn’t always do this.” You sigh, not bothering to shout anymore over the sound of beskar scraping against beskar.

You slide from your seat, taking your sandwich with you as you circle around the room to avoid becoming collateral damage in the red Mandalorian’s show of dominance.

“I have never witnessed two people fight over something so stupid in my life!” You call out behind you, tearing a piece of your sandwich off and popping it into your mouth. Leaving the sound of metal crashing against stone behind you.

---------------------------------

You sigh when you finally reach your room, ascending the steps inside your chambers to reach the bedroom. You’re about to sit down on the bed when you catch sight of your reflection, covered in dust patches and knee stains from when you scrubbed against the floor. You opt to take a quick shower instead, washing out all the grime gathered in your hair and skin.

It takes a couple minutes of harsh scrubbing for the water to stop running off your body brown. You take extra care to wash behind your ears and around your hairline, where dirt likes to plant itself firmly.

You turn the water off when the last few soap suds slide off your hair, wrapping yourself in a warm towel.

Taking a glance out the window, you note that the suns are already setting low on the horizon, and resign yourself to just staying in for the rest of the night.

You pull on a slip dress and wrap yourself in Boba’s robe, inhaling his comforting, musky scent. You reach for your book on the nightstand before lighting a couple of candles around the space, creating a warm and cozy environment.

Satisfied with the aesthetic you set around you, you plop down on your bed and hope to get a few chapters into your novel before Boba gets home. Admittedly getting distracted a couple times by the stunning, shaded view out your window, exposing you to the last few moments of the captivating sunset.

Boba comes home a little over an hour later, the glow in your chambers now reduced to only a few lamps and the candlelight spread about your room, but enough to alert Boba of your presence.

You hear his heavy armored footsteps trudging up towards the bedroom. You turn your head expectantly when he reaches the top. Helmet in hand, he pauses for a moment upon seeing you, admiring the image of your figure wrapped up in his robe and curled up with a book, before stepping forward and greeting you with a kiss.

He pulls back, gaze immediately flickering to the window, probably having noticed it immediately upon entering the room but choosing to greet you before acknowledging it.

You groan internally, knowing what's coming.

“Mesh’la,” He hums, frowning at the open curtains exposing you to the darkness of the Tatooine night. A few dim lights from Mos Eisley shining in the distance. He steps forward to slide the curtains closed, you don’t complain, only having wanted them open for sunset. “What have I told you, little one? It's not safe to have these open.”

“I only just opened them, Boba.” You fib a little, hoping to reassure him.

He nods, unconvinced, before beginning to strip himself of his armor. You observe him unlatch the beskar piece-by-piece, placing the armor neatly in its designated chest.

He groans loudly when he sinks down beside you, arms raising behind his head.

You giggle at his tired show of soreness, eyes still glued to the pages of your book. “Old man,” You mutter.

“Watch it.” He growls lowly. You glance a peek at him, eyes closed heavily against his cheeks.

You ponder your bravery for a moment, sticking your nose back in your book before impulsively whispering, “Relic.” You shriek, bursting into a fit of laughter as he suddenly reaches over and wrestles the book out of your hands, using it to plant a harsh smack on your behind.

“Boba Fett!” You squeal, hands moving to shield your bum as the vibrations from his deep laugh shake the bed.

Still holding the book up in a threatening manner, a childlike gleam in his eyes, he challenges you, “Apologize.”

You consider tossing another remark out, eyes darting to the book in his hand, before deciding against it tonight.

Instead, you hoist yourself up onto your knees, allowing his robe to slowly slide down your form and meet the duvet, revealing the thin slip below. His closed-lip smile increases a little, eyes tracing down your form, book lowering slightly in the space above where he lay.

You crawl forward until your chest hovers above him, noses nearly touching, “My apologies, my king.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He deepens the kiss with a groan, your hand reaching back to grip your novel, which he allows you to slip from his fingers.

You let him attack you lips for another moment before you pull away. Having gotten what you wanted, you shift back to your side of the bed, turning to the page you left off at.

A deep chuckle rumbles out from Boba’s chest. “Alright, little one.” He says, “I'll let you play your game.”

He turns the light out on his side of the bed, pulling the blankets out and over the two of you before moving to embrace your form, leaning close to whisper in your ear, “-this time.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you try to resist the smile tugging at your lips, though you feel his own brushing against your ear in satisfaction.

“Tomorrow,” He says, shifting a little above you, “I’m heading into Mos Eisley with Fennec.

“What for?” You ask, finally marking your page and setting it aside.

“Nothing,” He grumbles, “I need to put on a little show of...authority, for a few people.”

You hum, “No big deal?” You question.

“Just a local inconvenience.” He gripes.

You nod slightly, not requiring any elaboration. You suppose you’ll have to entertain yourself tomorrow. “Well then, maybe I’ll have Raul teach me how to wield a dagger,” You quip, a grin back on your face.

Boba huffs out an amused puff of air, “I’d much prefer you with a blaster.” He says, apparently taking the idea seriously, “You don’t need to be up close to use it.”

“We’ll see then,” You say, standing to turn out the rest of the lights.

A single lit candle from your bedside table casts a warm glow over Boba’s face, eyes closed and head still leaning back against your bed-frame pillow.

“Get back on your side,” You chuckle, nudging him as you crawl back into your space.

“M’fine here.” He mumbles, leaning further over onto your pillow.

You smile, his body encasing yours and his nose presses into your neck.

“I’ll be fine here too you know.” You mutter, referencing the day you’ll be spending without his guard.

“You finally gonna stop worrying about me?” You tease, having received no response.

He shakes his head, snuggling deeper into your neck, “Never.”

---------------------------------

A/N pt.2: So I wrote this and I thought it was great then I read it back a few times and realized literally nothing happened haha im so sorry 😅😅😅

Literally spent too many hours on this not to upload though so I suppose here’s a filler chapter my bad lots of love 🥰

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #boba!palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader #boba's palace

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