#THIS i can stay calm about but the prospect of not being able to finish a drawing by the time i told myself i would? immediate anxiety

[rosekasa]

does your body ever do a series of concerning things and you're just like interesting. im gonna pretend that didnt just happen

[sorikkung]

what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 6: aftercare, aftershocks, and the aftermath

word count: 8.9k

pairings: transmasc!reader x Everyone, everyone x everyone (its literally too convoluted for me to try type them out here anymore just see the masterlist for full pairings LOL)

genre: e2l, f2l, smut, fluff and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: nothing really? discussions of top surgery scars and gender identity?

a/n: noticed a lot of chan likers after the last chapter... yall gonna love this one :)

tags: @honeybyunnies @syunderful @absentcaryatid @mingirn (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

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Waking up in the bed of your biggest competitive rival is definitely, to say the least, sobering. 

You’re not surprised to find the bed empty next to you, but you are more surprised to find yourself still there. Staying the night was never on the agenda, but neither was really submitting to him, so you suppose compromises were made. The memories flood you with the uncomfortable kind of heat now that the lustful haze has faded, and you are left with nothing but the searing humiliation at how easily you played into his hands. 

Who really won there? You really thought you had him for a moment back there, pressed against the wall and shutting you up in the exact way you wanted him to. It was all going so damn well. He seemed so close to breaking then, you saw his subtle blush and the hitches in his breath, the way he leaned into your touch rather than away from it, the way he had to kiss you to shut you up because he knew you were right. He was enjoying you playing with him, he was excited at the prospect of you having a go at him, what fucking happened to all of that?

Was that an act? Letting you have your moment so it can be even more satisfying when he gets to shut it down? Did he find you cute then, too? Or was it that goddamn golden boy, did he want to seem nicer in front of him still? Did he not want poor little freckles to see him be mean?

Illuminated by only the dim coloured light atop Chan’s bed – a warm yellow-orange, now – you wince as you roll over and check the time. 1:47am, your phone says, which isn’t that long after you would’ve finished, considering the time when you arrived there already. God, he really did take his time with edging you – but before you could wonder where exactly he went, he comes back in with a bottle of something in hand and all his make-up washed off.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

“Were you about to do something to me while I was–?!“

“Shh,” he whispers, putting a finger to his lips, “You’ll wake up the rachas if you start yelling. They’re deep sleepers, but not that deep.”

He seems far too calm for someone who could have been caught doing something dastardly or nefarious, so your mouth falls shut, and he opens the bottle and pours some oil on his fingers. You notice the label on the bottle then, soothing massage oil – and after warming it up in his palms, he gestures for you to turn over.

“What?”

“Turn around. On your stomach if you want, but you can also stay sitting up.”

“Why?”

He snorts, nodding at your wrists. “You were bound for a long time. Are you not sore?”

When he says it out loud, you are no longer able to ignore the aching pain in your shoulders, wrists, and your back as well, from being stuck in such a position for so long. While you’re no stranger to aches and pains, whether it be for BDSM related reasons or pole dancing, it definitely doesn’t make sleep any easier, and probably what woke you up.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

“Come on then. Turn around.” His voice doesn’t carry any sternness, nor does it even hold much impatience, simply just having a task he plans on accomplishing and getting straight to the point. You comply.

His hands on you are gentle, but firm, pressing down at the tightness in your back with enough pressure to make you moan softly, but he doesn’t so much as make a snarky comment about it. He’s surprisingly silent as he works, focused on the task at hand, and you wouldn’t mind the change of pace if not for how hyperaware it makes you of every sound you make.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, “you don’t need to hold back that much. The walls are thick enough.”

“It’s not the rachas I’m worried about,” you mutter, uncharacteristically self-conscious despite not even facing him, but you can’t deny his massage feels good. When his skilled ministrations slow down to a halt, you cast a glance at him over your shoulder.

He’s smiling at you.

“What, worried ‘bout little ol’ me?”

You whip back around with such ferocity your neck audibly cracks. “Asshole.”

He chuckles lightly, then gets back to massaging your shoulders, a little gentler this time. “I’m not big enough of an asshole to tease you during aftercare, tough guy. You can relax.”

Aftercare? It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, having done similar acts of aftercare yourself and having received it more times than you can count, but something about receiving it from Chan of all people is puzzling. Last time you checked, you were having hate sex. Not that you hate him, really, that would be a pretty strong sentiment you currently only really hold for Felix by merit of him being Eric’s flaky ex-boyfriend, but you don’t exactly like him, either. Well, you like pissing him off, and you like competing with him, and you like getting reactions out of him, and maybe you like his artistry as well, but that’s about as far as it goes.

Oh, and you like his body, too, that’s a big one. The way his hands work the tension out of your shoulders is positively divine. Suppose he’s a pretty face, too. All up until he opens that big mouth of his.

“You say that, then you teasingly call me tough guy again. All men do is lie, huh?”

“Tch, you’re one to talk,” he scoffs, pressing harder with his massage, but not too hard, so it’s welcomed. “Besides, I wasn’t teasing. You’re tough.”

You wait for him to elaborate on that, but after a long moment of silence staring at the figurines on his headboard and the flickering triangular lights above it, you realise that was where his comment ended.

“…Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” he hums simply, definitively, then shifts you on the bed to turn back around and face him again so he can take your wrists and begin massaging the oil into them too. He doesn’t even so much as spare your face a glance, but it’s not avoidant. It’s focused, and just a little bit tired, too, you realise, noticing the crease in his brow.

You frown. Something about the silence feels so damn intimate – even more so than the actions itself, which you suppose are just him going on automatic after dominating someone. After all, giving aftercare is often the aftercare in itself for dominants, too, so maybe he’s doing this for himself as well.

He pauses to look up at you. “Got something on my face?”

As intimate as the silence felt, getting caught staring is far, far worse.

“Yeah,” you snort, throwing up snark as a reflex, “Ugly.”

It’s a bit harsh, you think, and the way he cocks his head makes you think he’s disguising a wince, but he looks back down at your wrists as he continues to massage them anyway.

“You wouldn’t be in my bed right now if you really thought I was ugly.”

He’s right.

“You’re right,” you echo, not really wanting that to be the hill you die on anyway when you both know its not true. That isn’t a good look on you, either. “It was a joke. I don’t sleep with ugly guys.”

“I know.”

He wraps up and pulls away, and you find yourself missing his touch as soon as it leaves you. Which is odd, because once again, you don’t even particularly like him, nor were you even expecting aftercare, and he’s already doing more for you than you would’ve bothered doing for him.

Or that you did for Felix.

The silence stretches on, and that thought grows louder. Is that what this is? Considering how Lino obviously told Felix what you messaged him, you wouldn’t be surprised if Felix told everyone else about your night at the Prism in excruciating detail, too. Based on how Chan acted with you tonight, it seemed far too deliberate for that to not have been the case. The look he gave Eric while kissing up on your neck? Hell, he had to have seen that. That’s right, he was there, he must have seen it and–

“Feeling a bit better? Want me to massage anywhere some more?”

His face is as open as you’ve ever seen it, expecting to hear a genuine response. There’s no more attitude, no more competition, no more sexual tension – despite the fact that you’re both still half naked, you in only the unbuttoned shirt you didn’t take off before he bound your wrists, and him still gloriously shirtless, just sitting in his underwear. He looks a lot less intimidating without his make-up on anymore, either, the softness of his features really bleeding through, and without such a cocky expression either, he looks like a whole different person.

The lingering soreness is more of the pleasant kind, now that he’s worked his magic, but you nod anyway. Just so you don’t have to look at him again. You shift back around. “My back’s still pretty sore, actually.”

You feel the bed shift behind you as he shuffles onto his knees, and presses a hand between your shoulder blades to push you down, and you lie onto your stomach without a word.

“Does that hurt?”

“What?” He already lifted his hand, he can’t possibly think he shoved you too hard. Is your back supposed to hurt while lying on your stomach after being bound like that? “Um, yeah. Kinda.”

“Your scar, I mean,” he says plainly, blinking at you dumbly when you peer over your shoulder again to look at him. “I mean I know it’s healed, at least, it looks healed enough, but still, pressure on such a large wound…”

“Oh, that- that’s fine,” you reassure him, plopping your head back down on the mattress and letting your eyes fall shut. “Bed’s soft. Didn’t even think about it.”

“Alright.” He throws a leg over you to straddle your hips, this time massaging your lower back as well, and while you asked him to continue mostly just because it felt nice, you now realise how much tension you had down there, too. “Can I ask how you got it?”

“My scar?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know what top surgery scars look like, but that looks a bit more violent. Makes me wonder if it was something else.”

“Ah.” You fall quiet, not really sure what to say. That you asked for it to be that way? Doesn’t really sound all that impressive when you put it like that. He’d probably ask why, too, and you aren’t sure how you would explain that to him, either.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, stopping only to crack his knuckles and pour more massage oil onto his palms before resuming the massage, “Was just curious.”

“You said it was pretty,” you breathe out, not daring to open your eyes and look at him. “Guess you’re not bad at dirty talk, huh. Suppose it is pretty violent looking in reality. I like it that way, though.”

He pauses – his words, not his hands – for a short beat before responding. “Pretty and violent aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. There can be beauty in violence, sometimes.”

“Yeah?” you huff. “Sounds like something a pretty violent person would say.”

He presses down extra hard on your shoulder and you grunt, knowing it was entirely on purpose. “Says you, tough guy. You’re a little menace.”

“Who you calling little? First freckles, now you – you guys sure do like pulling the height card for a bunch of garden gnomes. Glad to have someone shorter than you for a change? Congrats, he’s not even a cis man.”

“What do you identify as, by the way? Do you consider yourself a man, or...?” Chan asks genuinely, once again dodging your attempts at provocation. He’s getting quite good at this, and that bothers you, because provoking him was the entire fun of him, but you suppose now is too nice of a moment to really push it.

“Man enough. Man sometimes. On Tuesdays, maybe. On Wednesdays I’m just a gendery enigma.”

He chuckles. “What about Thursdays?”

“Hmm. Guy, but in the same way you call an animal friend you find on the street a little guy, y’know? Just a dude.”

His signature giggles are back, and you find yourself smiling and cracking your eyes back open before you even realise it, hazy. You can’t remember the last time you felt this relaxed since the whole competition started.

“And on Fridays?”

You yawn loudly, letting your eyes flutter shut again as sleep threatens to tug away at you once again, but you know you won’t fall properly asleep while he’s still touching you. “Gender on Fridays… that’s between me and God.”

He laughs properly at that, catching himself quickly and keeping it quiet as to not disturb his roommates, but you feel an oddly swelling sense of pride at being able to make him laugh like that. Maybe he won this game of wits you played in bed, but he can’t deny you’re at least funny.

“Alright, I’m getting tired,” he yawns as well, rolling off you and flopping back onto the bed next to you. It’s only then when you notice the bright red lines adorning his back, and gasp at the sight.

“Holy shit, Chan, your back.”

“Yeah?” He looks over his shoulder at you with a simultaneously sheepish and smug grin. “Suppose you didn’t get a good view before, huh?”

“No, I’m not— okay, I am appreciating the view, but dude, I basically mauled your back, does that not sting?”

He wrinkles his nose, twisting his torso this way and that experimentally. “A bit. It’s not bad, though.”

After he took care of you so gently, you find yourself wanting to take care of him at least just a little – just to even the playing field, so he can’t chastise you for not knowing safe kink practices, or otherwise flip it on you somehow. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you get up and ask him if he has any ointment for it.

“Ointment?”

“Yeah, like an antibiotic cream, or something. I broke skin, Chan. There’s a bit of blood. The least you should do is get it cleaned so it doesn’t get infected, especially if you’re gonna sleep without a shirt.”

He yawns again, stretching out and then wincing slightly, no doubt at the fresh scars adorning his back now. “Get it cleaned, huh? I don’t suppose you’ll do it for me?”

You bite at the inside of your cheek. “Is this a test?”

“A test? No, it’s a question. Do I have to get up and do it myself or can I stay here?”

“...Where’s the ointment? Or should I just use water?”

“Bathroom’s around the left corner, in the cabinet behind the mirror.”

It’s exactly where he said it was, so you return with a damp cloth and ointment in hand, and seat yourself behind him on the bed. This is certainly not your first time tending to your own scratch marks – or claw marks, as Kevin likes to call them, joking that the band are your scratching posts – so you fall into the process rather quickly. A gentle wipe-down before applying the cream, that’s all it is, you could do it in your sleep.

Your heart is beating out of your chest like it’s about to erupt.

You know why. It’s not a Chan thing, you know that for sure – it’s the same when taking care of your bandmates, too, as there is something so sacred about the whole process that’s almost tender. It’s the vulnerability of it all, and you’ve since gotten more adjusted to it with the others, but without any trust built between you and Chan, it feels significantly more potent than usual. Risky, almost.

Maybe it is a Chan thing.

Silence drags on and neither you nor Chan do anything about it. Out of tiredness, probably. You wouldn’t call it entirely comfortable silence, though; for some reason, tending to him feels even more vulnerable than him giving you the massage. You suppose you can’t really keep pretending like you hate him while you’re treating the wounds on his back that you inflicted, and you’re not sure what this means, anymore. You don’t know what any of this means, or how you’re supposed to be feeling about this.

“There,” you finish, closing the cap on the cream shut. “All done.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, shifting around on the bed to get a better look at you, and you find yourself unable to hold his gaze. He shrugs and simply flops down onto the bed. “’Think I’m gonna go sleep now… oh wait, did you want like, undies or something–“

You snort. Undies. “You’re not kicking me out?”

He tilts his head up just enough to drowsily stare at you in confusion. “No? Not when you look like you’re about to melt right into my mattress. But hey, if you wanna uber home or something, go for it. I’m not keeping you here.”

He rolls over, slipping under the blankets and curling himself around a large pillow. Cute, you think. He looks even smaller like this. You wonder how you must look for him to make such a comment, how much of the number he did on you is visible, but you know you won’t get any sleep tonight if you stop to check in the mirror now.

“Yeah, I’ll take you up on the undies.”

“Aight.” He yawns again, stretches, clearly falling asleep already as he grabs you a spare pair of boxer briefs and tosses them at you as he slides back into bed. Once your shirt is on the floor and you are under the blankets with him, you find yourself subconsciously gravitating towards his side of the bed for warmth, to which he responds by turning over and draping himself over you instead of the pillow. It reminds you so much of sleeping with Sunwoo, Eric or Mingi that you find yourself lulled right back to sleep at a record speed.

If waking up in the bed of your rival was sobering, waking up in the arms of your rival is like a bucket of cold water to the face.

What is worse is that it takes you far too long to realise it, at first. Sleeping with strong arms around you is your norm, so you don’t really question it as your sleep-fogged brain slowly starts turning its gears, and you practically jolt when you pull your head back and realise you’re snuggled up to the one and only Bang Chan and pointedly not one of your bandmates.

“You’re not Sunwoo,” you blubber out, sliding away from him on the bed, and Chan just drearily groans and rolls over, pulling your half of the blanket with him.

“No. M’not.”

He stays still there, so you suppose this is your cue to get out, make your walk of shame, et cetera. Not that it was ever really a shameful walk for you, it being more like a walk in pride at the accomplishment of the notches in your belt, but Chan being who he is and his roommates being who they are make you finally understand why they called it the walk of shame in the first place.

“Where y’goin?” he mumbles, peeking out at you over his blanket as you start picking your clothes back up and getting dressed – still in his underwear with yours discarded on the floor somewhere, but at this point you consider leaving it behind as a prize, just so you can get out of there quicker.

“Where do you think? Home. Unless you’re up for round two? I’m warning you, I won’t go easy on you this time.”

Chan laughs out loud, wide and bright and fucking humiliating. You threatened him and he’s laughing at you. You scramble to get your things quicker. You need to leave, and you need to leave now, before you can dig your own grave even deeper.

“Have brekkie before you leave, at least!”

You pause to gawk at him, curly hair now free from its chemical restraints and sticking out in every which direction, his softer face illuminated by the morning sun. Who is this man?

“Breakfast? Seriously?”

He stares back at you like you are the one out of your mind.

“Yes? Do you not usually have breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”

“I pissed you off, tossed you around, let you bring me home and fuck my brains out, and now you’re making me breakfast? Chan, do you like me or something?” you guffaw, the only reasonable conclusion you can come up with using the limited brainpower you have access to before noon. Seriously, who the fuck does mornings these days? It was either that, or he’s trying to kill you with kindness and make you feel bad. Ha. Like he could ever.

Chan furrows his brow, recoiling in mild disgust and confusion. “No? God, is that what you think? I’m literally just being a good host. You stayed the night, I had my way with you, now I take care of you. It’s not rocket science, y’know.”

It’s not rocket science, he says, but trying to make sense of him is looking more and more like a complicated algebra equation you failed in math before dropping out. Why does he feel the need to take care of you? You’re not his responsibility. He doesn’t owe you anything. You were mean to him on purpose and he knows it, so he might as well have tossed you out on the curb as soon as he got off. Maybe called you an Uber if he wanted to be a gentleman. But this?

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I just said why! Have you never had someone be nice to you before, or something?”

“Wh– of course I’ve had people be nice to me before, I’m not that pathetic,” you scoff, folding your arms. “Just not after I’ve gone out of my way to aggravate them on purpose.”

Chan just snorts. “Maybe you should stop aggravating me on purpose, then.”

“So that’s what this is!” The final piece of the puzzle clicks into place, and you stare him down intently – or maybe that’s just the morning glare in your eyes. “You’re trying to kill me with kindness, aren’t you? Think being a good host will make me go easy on you? Smart, but I have less of a conscience than you seem to think I do–“

“God, a man can dream, I guess! No,” he sighs your name in the most exasperated tone you’ve ever heard from him, “this isn’t some evil plan to take you down as a competitor, I’m literally just being nice. Because I like being nice to people. Is that really so hard to believe?”

“You don’t have a reason to be nice to me. I sure as hell ain’t nice to you! Every time I think you’ve grown some backbone you–“

“Oh please, that is not what you were saying last night,” he interrupts, finally starting to lose his cool. Good. You hate fighting him when he’s so clear-headed. “You wanna be so tough and scary so bad, but you insisted on cleaning my wounds before bed–“

“Oh my god, you are in love with me, aren’t you?”

Whether you actually think Chan harbours any sort of romantic feelings for you leans heavy towards no, but the accusation is one you can think of very few people who wouldn’t get a rise out of. Not to mention how funny it is to see them flounder to prove themselves just for you to twist everything they say against them.

“In love with you? Are you seriously that self-obsessed? No, no– I’m not falling for that, you know I’m already–“ he cuts himself off this time, realising the hole he just dug, but it’s too late.

“So you are in love with Felix, you admit it!” you cackle victoriously, clapping like a seal. “You’re right, we already knew, but I sure wonder if Felix does. What was his Instagram tag again? Lix something?”

“Sure, go ahead and tell him, like he’d believe you,” Chan huffs, “You’re not subtle either, tough guy! ‘You’re not Sunwoo!’ Hm, I wonder why you’re thinking about waking up in his arms.”

“We sleep together, genius,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes, “the entire band, we all sleep together, I did not think any of us were subtle about that.”

“I know that, but why is it Sunwoo’s name specifically you think of first thing in the morning, huh?”

Fuck. Why is it Sunwoo? As soon as you ask yourself that, your recent conversations flash through your mind, and you sure as hell are not about to let Chan of all people know about that.

“Because your arms felt like his, it’s not that deep!”

“I don’t mean this in a body-shaming way, but his arms are like half the size of mine. I’m not exactly convinced.”

“Then don’t be! I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You really don’t! So why do you keep acting like you do have something to prove to me every time we meet?”

His words slice through you like a hot knife through butter, and it takes a second too long to come up with a response. He’s right. You fucking hate when he’s right, and you would sooner edit a Wikipedia article to win an argument against someone when you’re in the wrong than admit it to him.

He sighs. “I don’t get why you have such a raging hate boner towards us. I know Eric has beef with Felix and we’re neck and neck in the Battle of the Bands, and you get your kicks out of provoking people, but you seem to think that I – or the other guys too, for that matter – would act against you if you slipped up enough to give us a chance to. But we’re not like that.”

We’re not like you, is the unspoken message there, but you hear it loud and clear. “Why wouldn’t you? Felix still has something to prove, that much I can tell for certain. Lino was quick to spill my secrets as soon as he had them. Hell, Changbin threw me over a table for something entirely consensual and even went as far as to slut-shame all of us. Like, riddled with diseases? Really? You’re no better than we are just because we actually own up to being assholes, you just lack the self awareness.”

Chan tilts a brow up at you, then it furrows into a puzzled expression. “This is what I mean about you bringing out the worst in people. Lino went for it because he knew you’d definitely do the same, and Changbin... he doesn’t start fights as often as you’d think he does based off of your experiences with him. They’re usually justified. Though I will admit the slut-shaming wasn’t, he was just trying to get some sort of edge over you since he didn’t know you knew about Hyunjin’s career. He’s actually done sex work in the past too, got his fair share of STI’s, it’s not an insult that comes from a place of actual prejudice.”

“Oh, so its all blatant hypocrisy then! Wow, that’s sooo much better, you guys are such morally-correct heroes.”

He rolls his eyes so hard you think he got a glimpse of his brain, then pinches the bridge of his nose in barely concealed frustration. “Okay, yes, sure, he’s a hypocrite! I’ll admit to that! But you’ve had something to prove since before any of that happened, so I’m just wondering why exactly you expected us – why you expected me – to be some sort of villain from the get-go! Why do you want me to be the bad guy so bad when I’m just trying to be nice to you and make you some goddamn breakfast?!”

You see he has reached his wits end, and it’s no longer a noble attempt to defend his team but a cry for help to save himself. You knew your verbal spars had more behind them than he tries to act, but now he can’t pretend like he’s their infallible shield anymore. Nor can he pretend his little posse are all virtuous saints. In a way, you finally won, you made him crack.

So why does it feel so much like losing?

“Because I just don’t get why you don’t,” you confess in an aggravated sigh, “Other people would! I’d argue that you should, given it all! It feels— it feels wrong to have you just, clean me up and make me breakfast when we’re not even friends! We don’t even like each other! Like, this goes above and beyond even for just a Tinder hookup!”

Chan barks out a dry laugh. “It’s like you really can’t comprehend the concept of someone being nice to you. Have you never had someone properly take care of you before?”

“I have! My band take care of me better than I could even ask for. But that’s the difference, they’re mine. They’re my band, I mean, we have a bond even deeper than family, we take care of each other because we love each other. What reason do you have to take care of me of all people? I haven’t given you a single reason to and yet, you do anyway.”

“You think people need a hard-earned reason to be nice to you?” Chan remarks back at you, and it shocks something deep inside you with an ice-cold chill. Yes? Maybe? That would sound stupid if you say it out loud. Would it? It makes so much sense to you, though. People can be nice without reason sometimes, but not to people who don’t deserve it.

Not to people like you.

“I... I’m not saying people can only be nice to people once they’ve done something to earn it, I just mean that people aren’t usually nice to people who have given them a reason – or in my case, multiple reasons – not to be. If someone hurts the people I love, I’m not making them breakfast, I’m kicking them to the curb when I’m done.”

“I know,” Chan deadpans, no doubt thinking about Felix too. “That’s where we differ then, I guess. I don’t filter who I’m nice to based off of some invisible tally of who deserves it or who doesn’t. I choose to be kind because it’s how I want to be, not because it’s what someone does or doesn’t deserve. I’d like to say that all people deserve kindness, but even I cave and deliberately deny people of that sometimes. I’m only human, yeah? We all are. Even you. So I’m not sure why you’ve convinced yourself you’re so unworthy of my kindness that you lash out at me for it. Have you been wronged that much?”

He says it so casually and gets up to wash his face in the connected bathroom like he didn’t just cover you in paper cuts then drop you in a pool of lemonade and salt. Have you been wronged that much? Hell, have you been wronged by that many? You think back to your family, then your former friends, their friends, your peers. You think about your band, all runaways or renegades from similar surroundings, and the safety you found in them being like-minded individuals. How you all met because you were all so scorned taking the road not taken, so driven yet so lost.

Society has a way of chewing you up and spitting you back out into more pieces than you started off in, then expecting you to pick them up and glue them back together yourself, as if you are the one who did it. That’s just how life is; there is no childhood without hardship, no adult without trauma, despite the best efforts of many and the lack of effort of many more. Everyone has their own demons to fight, all while fighting for their lives in the blender that is late-stage capitalism and man-made prejudice.

You know all this. Yet when Chan asks, ‘Have you been wronged that much?’ Part of you thinks that all of that is bullshit and somehow you and your band have ended up being through hell and back for no other damn reason than drawing the short straw in the hand dealt to the rest of the world.

“I don’t... I...”

You struggle to find words for the emotions you are feeling – rage, grief, sadness, bitterness, envy, but there’s something else in the muddled pit of them all that doesn’t quite fit with the others. Hope, maybe? That’s a dangerous emotion, but that’s rarely stopped you before. You wouldn’t be where you are today without it. Fear? Closer, but what for? Relief? At what?

Chan walks back out of the bathroom with a hand towel around his neck, then right past you towards the kitchen.

“Come on. I’m making pancakes.”

Feeling like you don’t have much of a choice not to – or a reason not to, for that matter – you follow him, plopping yourself wordlessly down on a stool on the outer side of the counter.

He doesn’t say more as he takes out the ingredients and gets to work, a simple recipe but nonetheless homemade compared to the pre-made pancake mixes you use back home. You take the chance to observe your surroundings, spacious yet rather cluttered with the various belongings of the multiple men in the household, and that is when you remember you two are not the only occupants currently home.

“Are the others still asleep?” you ask, and he just shrugs while pouring batter onto a fry pan.

“Probably. We’re not usually up before noon, but I’ll make some for them to have for lunch.”

“Did I wake you, then?”

“Yeah. But it’s fine. I got more sleep last night than usual, honestly.”

It will never not be jarring to you, the difference in the kind of conversations you have with Chan. You’re either arguing with blades drawn, or you’re laid completely bare with nothing but an emergency razor blade hidden under a band-aid on you, conversing like you actually know each other. Like there’s any sort of closeness or trust between you. You don’t know if that is just because you’re more used to fighting him than not, or because something about Chan with his guard down makes you feel even more exposed than ever, or if it’s the things he’s done and said in the past twelve or so hours that changed the air between you. There’s discomfort in how comfortable it is, a juxtaposition you have no idea how you got to.

“Don’t get much sleep, huh?”

He nods, scarred back still facing you as he cooks. “Not usually. I tend to stay up late until I’m exhausted enough to maybe catch some sleep when I finally go to bed, then try to sleep on and off until it gets too hot at noon and I just give up. Well, not all the time, I do get uninterrupted sleep some nights, but the staying up super late and getting up late is pretty consistent. So yesterday I went to bed kinda early.”

“2am kinda early, huh?” you snort, and he chuckles.

“Yeah. Earlier than five, at least.”

The relatively comfortable silence from last night returns, and you find you don’t hate it as much this time. It’s still rather foreign, but not as deeply unsettling as it was before, so you are content to just take in the view of his half-naked form cooking a gigantic stack of pancakes until he finally plates and serves.

“Eat up, then.”

You do.

You have been dreading returning home since the moment Eric threw his little fit last night, so you are already bracing yourself for metaphorical impact – the impact being rancid vibes more than anything else – from the very moment you open the front door to your apartment.

What you find instead, is a messy-haired Han with the buttons on his shirt done up one buttonhole too low, skewing the whole symmetry of the shirt sideways. If the bruises on his jaw and neck are any indicator, you’d guess this is Sunwoo, Wooyoung, or maybe San’s handiwork, but given that it’s your apartment he’s coming out of, you put your money on Sunwoo.

“Damn. You too huh—”

“I was just leaving!” he blurts out, shoving past you and speed-walking away while still putting on his layered jackets, and you snort and close the door behind you.

“Let me guess, that was the work of one man starting with a ‘Sun’ and ending with a ‘woo.’”

“You know it!”

He calls back at you from the kitchen, and you realise the mop of dark hair you spotted on the couch is not him and his permed curls, but simply Wooyoung’s atrocious bed hair. Or maybe sex hair. Could be either or, with him. Walking into better view, you notice the whole band is here already, seemingly waiting for you with Eric standing between the two couches expectantly.

“Ah good, you’re finally here!”

He sounds less than thrilled, and the rest of the band don’t seem all that excited either, barring Sunwoo’s aura of smugness at having his plaything leave moments prior. The tension in the room is palpable, like mugginess on a humid day, except the windows are wide open and the constant drone of the fan on in the background makes the would-be silence even louder somehow.

“Oh boy,” you groan, “if you’re going to grill us all on sleeping with the enemy, frankly I do not want to hear it.”

“You think I wanted to hear Jisung screaming out Sunwoo’s name repeatedly last night and calling him oppa?” Eric guffaws, as if that’s somehow your fault. You take a quick glance at the man in question, who only looks even more proud of himself, so you snicker at him.

“Wow, nice.”

“No, not nice, what the fuck you guys! Is there anyone here who didn’t fuck a stray kid last night?!”

“Huh?”

You look around the room at the others, only thinking you and Sunwoo did, but the only one who cautiously raises his hand is Kevin. You figure Wooyoung and Mingi probably got Changbin to crack with the added influence of Lino, but your eyes widen at San.

“Whaaat? That Hyunjin kid was testing my patience. Though I can’t say I wasn’t curious after his stream—”

“Seriously guys, did everything they said just evade you? They dissed our music, our message, Wooyoung and I’s dancing, our sex lives— and you’re going on and fucking them instead of fucking them over? What the fuck you guys!”

Wooyoung just shrugged. “I sure fucked him over his boyfriend, I think he appreciated the view—”

“You’re not even taking me seriously at all!” Eric roars, eyes flaring, but he’s right. You aren’t. You don’t think anyone else in the room even is.

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re trying to come at us for who we choose to sleep with. Like, I thought we agreed that what we do with other people is none of each other’s business, and it’s extra hypocritical when you were the first to do so this time. Last year we literally fucked a homophobe from the rival band to humiliate him and now you’re drawing the line? Just say you’re upset about Felix still and be done with it,” you tell him with scalding bluntness, and you can see the hurt visible all over his face. It does make you feel partly guilty, but you meant every word you said. Suppose you didn’t hear everything the others said once you were preoccupied with Felix and Chan, but you don’t think it would have changed your path of action regardless.

“Fine then,” Eric hisses, bitter and thoroughly done. “Fine! Fuck them all if you want, have one big fat orgy in our living room for all I care, but don’t expect to touch my ass once you’re done with them. Kevin, you’re the only one left with hole privileges.”

Kevin wrinkles his nose and raises a brow, puzzled. “But I’m a bottom?”

“Good! Then don’t use them! An extra fuck you to the rest of them!”

He storms off after that, slamming the door to his room behind him, and you all take a collective sigh at his little temper tantrum. They aren’t anything new, but he usually isn’t this unreasonable, but you all know why. Felix. It always comes back down to Felix, the first love who broke his heart into so many pieces he is still trying to glue them back together. You feel sorry for what he is going through, you really do, but that doesn’t mean you are going to let him walk all over you and lash out like that.

“So. Movie night?” San suggests to break the tension, and the others are quick to nod and mutter in agreement.

“Definitely not here, though,” you pitch in, Eric’s loud trap music blasting from his speakers through the closed door, right on cue. “Let’s give him some space to cool down.”

“I’ll stay here,” Sunwoo suggests, “Just in case he needs to talk it out while we’re still gone.”

“Let me,” you offer, “I’m not huge on movies anyway—”

“Respectfully, I think he’d rather talk to anyone but you,” Kevin interrupts with an apologetic frown. “You did kind of fuck around with his ex without him. I don’t think he wants to confront how jealous that made him. He still misses him so much.”

“I know,” you sigh, sinking down into the couch, wedged between him and Mingi. At this point you have already accepted movie night is not going to happen until you have talked this all out with the others. “I think it’s more than that, though. When I was talking to him about it while training him on pole, he said the rest of the kids made him jealous, too. Because those are all effectively, and I’m paraphrasing this bluntly, mind you, but they’re basically his replacements. His and the rest of their dance crew that he left. He wanted me to fuck Felix with him to prove that he too had moved on and met cooler, hotter and more talented friends to make music with, so he could feel in control again. But I think it backfired on him as soon as they started winning and rubbing it in our faces. At least, based on his outburst just then, that’s my guess. Still needa ask him directly, preferably once he’s let off some steam.”

Mingi plays with your hand as you talk, his large ones easily encasing yours and tracing patterns along your skin. “Sounds about right. Maybe we should stop sleeping around with them, then. It’s not like we’d have much of a dry spell without them, as hot as it is I don’t know if it’s worth making Eric upset.”

“That’s treating the symptoms, not the root of the problem,” you point out, noticing the way he stays fixated on your hand, not looking at you, but more so, not looking at Wooyoung. “That’s the thing I don’t get about monogamy. People will go to such lengths to make sure their partners don’t get jealous, instead of trying to unpack why they feel so bad about seeing someone else with them. Like, clearly he has a lot of insecurity about being replaced, or other people being better than him. I get that. So we just need to show him how much we value him, and how irreplaceable he is to us. How fucking with other guys doesn’t change that.”

That seems to stir something within Mingi, gears turning in his head visible on his face. You hope that it’s the realization you think it is, because while Mingi has never been the overly jealous type like Eric is, you know from many late nights drinking hot chocolate on his shoddy balcony that his insecurities are just as loud and all-consuming sometimes. You haven’t had the chance to properly check in on him since his fight with Wooyoung in front of you, but you hope he can read between the lines nonetheless.

“Huh. And how do we do that?”

“We put him in control again,” you say decidedly, nodding. “A position of power, of some sort. Make him the star of our next stage, build it all around it. Let him run it, even. And of course, him permitting, suck his dick till he’s shooting blanks.”

A unanimous chuckle ripples through the room at the last part, knowing full well how the combined effort of the six of you could make that a very easy feat.

“He did call us here to talk about our next stage,” Wooyoung hums thoughtfully, “I think he wants to do another special stage like we do at those dance clubs, with you taking over drums and Sunwoo on bass so he and Mingi can dance with me, if I were to guess. He seemed particularly torn up about their comments on dance specifically, which makes sense given how that’s how Felix left him.”

“What did they even say about your dancing, anyway? I didn’t catch that, was too busy arguing with—”

“Sneaking off to suck Felix’s dick in a hallway, we know,” Wooyoung snorts, shifting himself into his usual seat, that being Mingi’s lap, and leaning against his chest. “They said I danced like my sex appeal could make up for a lack of talent. Which is whatever, honestly, I just used that to make Changbin admit he still found me hot and eventually lead to bringing him home – amazing ass, mind you, he wanted to top so bad and I damn near let him but—”

“Okay, okay, details later, what else did they say about us?” Knowing each other inside out means that the tendency to cut each other off is never taken too personally, given how much you all have the tendency to ramble.  You’re grateful for it, because at times like this, you need to get straight to the point. “Did they insult Eric’s dancing too?”

Wooyoung grimaces, lips pursing into a line, and that is enough to confirm your suspicions. “...yeah. To be fair, Eric did bring it up first. He was taunting them about their dancing and how they should go compete in dance competitions instead like they used to in Force – but oh, that’s right! Felix left Force, and for this, and he implied it was because he knew that they’d never make it in an actual dance competition without Force. So they dragged him and the rest of Force through the mud, saying maybe the reason they disbanded as soon as Felix left was because they knew he carried the team and they were nothing without him. You can imagine how hard that would have hit.”

You poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. Can’t exactly say their response was entirely uncalled for, then, but at the same time, Eric made a solid point. Why didn’t they just enter dance tournaments instead? You remember Eric going to compete in a whole ton of them between Force and Triple Z, the dance crews he was in with Felix and Wooyoung and Mingi respectively.

Force since disbanded with Felix’s departure since he acted as the glue that held the crew together, the other members closer with him than each other, while Triple Z still meets up sometimes, but a lot more casually than they used to now that most of them aren’t studying anymore, and have a lot less free time working to pay rent. Especially with the Battle of the Bands coming up, you don’t expect they will be doing anything big for a while now. At least that meant Eric finally stopped overworking himself between all his commitments.

You think about the week prior he spent learning a whole new medium of dance just to prove a point, and you quickly retract that thought.

“I think I know just what he needs,” you speak up, the puzzle clicking together in your head one piece at a time. “Not just what he needs, what this competition needs. An even match.”

“An even match?” San echoes, and you nod, noting the way he looks slightly disheartened, but you continue before he can think that the band isn’t a worthy competitor to the current reigning group.

“An even playing field, I mean. They’re doing something completely different to everyone else; that’s why they’re winning, because they can’t be compared to anyone else. We just need to give them something to compare to. Another dance group. Four of us are already some form of dancer, and the rest of you are fit and fast learners. If we spend the next week on the grind, we can make a dance performance out of one of the old tracks Kevin or Mingi produced for Force or Triple Z that never got used– and if we let Eric run this little boot camp, he hopefully will feel like he’s in control of the situation again and that we still value his opinions and role on the team.”

“So... your vote is basically plagiarism then,” Wooyoung snorts, crossing one leg over the other with a playful flourish, almost kicking you in the face in the process. “I’m interested. In fact, if we want to really boot camp this, we should all take the week off work. I think I can help cover the costs that may arise from that one.”

“No way!” San gasps, eyes quickly widening while the rest of you glance around at each other, not getting the memo. “Don’t tell me that sugar daddy you were talking to is actually legit...?”

“More than legit,” Wooyoung preens, evidently rather proud of himself. “I found out how to squeeze even more dough out of him. He loves seeing me in fancy designer brands, he has no idea I just stole half of it and have been using the generous allowance he gave me to spoil Mingi instead and buy other sorts of useless shit and necessities. So I just pretend I’m this fashionista diva who only wants to wear the most exclusive of designer, and even with all the money he’s giving me, it doesn’t give me the connections to get limited edition pieces from exclusive collections... and he gets them for me, of course, and do you have any idea how much those kinds of things sell for?”

If there was one thing you always admired about Wooyoung, it was how clever that sly fox could be when it came to things like this. Trust Jung Wooyoung to milk rich old men for all they’re worth, but still not consider that microwaving rice three times would make it into a solid brick. The duality of man.

“Why haven’t you told us earlier?!” San seems almost offended, lips falling into a pout. “That’s huge! You’re basically rich now!”

“Ew, gross,” Wooyoung wrinkles his nose, “I’m not rich, I’m exploiting the rich. Big difference. Don’t lump me in with those bastards! I didn’t tell you all yet because I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it was a scam or he ended up being dangerous, but... I think we’re in the clear now. I’m still going to pole dance because I love it and I don’t want my only source of income to be reliant on some old rich man’s whims, but I can afford to take a week off and pitch in for you guys too. I might have to leave periodically if he calls, though, but luckily I already know how to dance. I’ll catch up quick.”

“It’s a plan, then,” Kevin speaks up, and the relief it fills you with is immense; you were the most concerned about his reaction to the idea, as he was the least inclined to heavy physical activity out of all of you, but you figure you must have been underestimating him – he may be no dancer yet, but Gaga nights at the gay club have him vogueing like he is one. “We make our next stage a dance stage to rival theirs, and Eric gets to put us all through dance hell? Good thing I started working out…”

You look around the room for any signs of protest, but luckily enough, everyone seems to be on the same page. You see a particular spark in Wooyoung and Mingi’s eyes – for completely different reasons – that make you think this really is the right path to take.

“Going once, going twice… agreed, then!” You clasp your hands together, determined. “Someone pick a movie, and we can tell Eric when he feels like speaking with us calmly again.”

a/n: not gonna lie this might be one of my favourite chapters so far hehe those chan scenes were extremely fun to write. anyway if you havent already, let me know your thoughts thru this google form or even through an ask, either or can be anonymous if you want (tho if you want me to reply to your form responses, pls do sign off w ur @!) as always reblogs are always appreciated and im always down to talk in depth abt these characters if any questions or brainrot arises. LOL

[f1]

McLaren boss Stella explains what makes Piastri special after the rookies starring start to F1 career

Andrea Stella has explained the traits rookie driver Oscar Piastri possess that makes him such an “incredible” prospect, with the McLaren Team Principal also sharing how the Australian’s presence this season is helping get the best out of Lando Norris. F1 rookie Piastri joined McLaren for the 2023 season after a contractual dispute that eventually went to the Contract Recognition Board, as the Woking squad battled it out with Alpine for the rights to his services. READ MORE: ‘We’re all very proud of him’ – Webber heaps praise on Piastri for ‘phenomenal’ first half of rookie F1 season And after replacing compatriot Daniel Ricciardo, Piastri – who won the Formula 3 and Formula 2 titles in his debut season in each series – has shone in his first year with McLaren, taking his first points at his home race in Melbourne, where he finished eighth. And since McLaren brought a host of upgrades to their car in Austria and Silverstone, Piastri has been flying – finishing fourth at Silverstone, fifth in Budapest, and second in the Sprint at Spa. Asked by Sky Sports after the Belgian Grand Prix Sprint – where Piastri also led his first laps in Formula 1 – about his young driver's start to life in F1, Stella said: “We are first of all very happy to have Lando and Oscar in our team, we think they are incredible prospects for the future. Piastri led his first laps and sealed his first top three finish at the Sprint in Belgium “Lando, I think is not a prospect, he is an established top driver. For us being in this journey with Oscar, it makes it even more exciting, because it was very clear right from the start – the level of talent. “Even the analytical behaviour, looking at things, trying to learn, and at the same time always remaining very calm. He is able to absorb things, execute things, always staying very calm, which I think is a strong point of Oscar.” BARRETTO: McLaren’s turnaround has been spectacular – but can they now push on to challenge Red Bull? Speaking earlier in Hungary, Stella was also asked about Norris – who is in his fifth season with the team – his development as team leader, and how Piastri's performances have pushed the Briton so far this year. “One [point] is that Lando is definitely evolving towards more of a leading position,” said Stella. “Not a leading position as the leading driver, but just drivers that kind of try to pull the team, just not only being on the receiving end of it. Stella explained how Piastri and Norris have been working together since the Australian came onboard “And the second point is that by having a driver as quick as Oscar, definitely you are in the condition to exploit the potential of the car better, because in some corners, even in FP1, Oscar is immediately competitive if not a little quicker. “So Lando can say ‘ok, we can do this in this corner’, and so on. And likewise, obviously, for Oscar with Lando. The second element, which is remarkable this year, is how similar the comments are between the two drivers. READ MORE: Our writers look back on 2023 so far and predict what's to come in the second half of the season “And this is not only in the off-line debriefings, but it's also when the drivers come back after they run the first run during a session. They actually use the same terminology, like it looks like they are in communication before reporting their feedback.” Stella concluded: “This is obviously very important for engineers, because it means that what's coming from the driver is very consistent, is very clear, it gives you a clear direction for set-up and for development.” via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

[whet-ones-write]

Baku Birthday 2021

So I’m posting this a /little/ early because I’m just too excited to share this fic! So I joined in with Bakugou’s Birthday Bash hosted by these amazing people!!

@phasmwrites​ @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @jodrawssmut​ & @ramen-rambles​ 

And since joining I couldn’t have found a more supporting and helpful group on Discord!! Special thanks to: @hoe-doroki​ for being my beta reader and editor!! Thank you for dealing with my sorry, inconsistant ass and giving me the strength to pull though and just do some of my best writing to date! I haven’t written so much in so long and it was rather nice!! 

And to @notchesandbullets​ for telling me I can do this and be those words of praise when I needed them the most helping me pull though and finish this!

Contains: DragonShifter!Reader x Bakugou. Fantasy Setting,

WC: 3755 - Masterlist to all the works!!

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, oral (Female + M reviecing), Cowgirl, unprotected sex, Cum eating, Premature Ejaluations (if you squint), Age gap? It’s implied Reader is much older than Katsuki. Restraining Katsuki, Pervert Kiri

Looking around his throne, Katsuki couldn’t help but scoff at what came to his mind. He had everything a chief could want, but it still wasn’t enough for the young, barbaric male. Vast and grand was his home. People were happy, going about their day, harvest due and bountiful, the river running steady and clean. 

Though, he was still missing a vital element to his life. Someone to make him happy, to have by his side and call his own. So the only thing he had left to need or want was someone to walk into battle with him, because not just any person would. 

No, they had to have a few key traits to meet his standards. They needed to have a willingness to fight, to want to protect those around him and themselves with everything they had. They had to be able to take flack and a joke but also be serious when the time came. They had to be able to take no shit from anyone and make sure to be willing to put others in their place if they went out of line.

It wasn’t much! Honestly…Or at least he thought so. 

“...ugou, Bakugou!” A voice snapped him from his thoughts as he glanced at his adviser, unhappy over the fact he was interrupted from his thoughts. 

“What is it?” Katsuki questioned as he lazily shifted his attention to the man standing at his right side. 

“As I was saying, there have been some sightings of strangely coloured dragons in the nearby valleys. We do not know if it is one or more or if they’re passing by or staying. Moreover, they have yet to attack the villages, but it would be wise to at least investigate the surrounding areas before anything happens,” his assistant spoke as he looked for what the King was going to do. 

Taking a moment, Katsuki couldn’t help but smile as he got up and began to stretch. “Eijirou, prepare for a flight. It seems there might be someone that needs a reminder of who those valleys belong to.” 

Though to the Bakugou family dragons were revered and seen as good omens, there was a limit. Dragons that fought over territory could be destructive and wipe entire lands from existence, so if there was ever more than one in an area it could prove to be a bad omen instead.

One dragon or one family were seen as protecting the lands, keeping invaders at bay and being loyal by nature. Though another one could offset the balance, should they prove to be hungry or hostile. The valleys in which the Bakugous lived were famous for having the longest standing relationship with the red dragons of the Kirishima clan. They had served one another for generations with the latest duo being that of the Barbarian King Katsuki Bakugou, son of the late Chieftess Mitsuki Bakugou, and the dragon that protected the lands, Eijirou Kirishima, son to late Hikori Kirishima.

Standing at seven feet, the mostly human nodded and saluted as he walked with his friend outside. “Yes, sir.” He beamed happily, seemingly excited by the prospect of seeing another dragon. “Though, what are your instructions, should they prove hostile?” 

“Hostile?” Katsuki mused, placing a hand to his chin as the other morphed into that of a forty-foot-long dragon from the tip of his nose to the very end of his arrow-pointed tail. Once finished, Kirishima leaned down to lower his wing, letting Katsuki get on by walking up the thin bone of the arch of his wing and holding onto his spines, climbing all the way to behind the red horns that adorned his head. “Should the dragon wish to try and stay, we will start through the diplomatic route.” 

That was the thing about Katsuki. For all his bloodlust and anger, he was quite the strategist when it came to monsters several times his size. Having worked with Eijirou for some time, they had built up a bond of trust valuable for when trouble arose. 

“Should that fail, we will have to take things up a notch. I would like to avoid a fight if at all possible.” He sighed as he clung to the horn while the other took off. “The valley is full of fish making their way upstream for the breeding season,” he muttered before groaning and slapping his face as he remembered something, getting even more irritated. 

“It could be a female dragon,” he groaned, looking down to Eijirou. “With breeding season approaching, it could prove very troublesome,” he grumbled as he lay down to keep low as Eijirou took to the sky. 

“Hm,” came a deep rumble from the beast.

A female dragon would be far better than a male should they be able to move it along. It could prove worse in the long run, though, as other males came to try and have their chance, destroying the local landscape fighting over the female. 

“Not going to be influenced? I know you’re a young male.” Katsuki snickered as the dragon grunted and shook slightly in a ‘no’. “Don’t worry, whatever happens we’ll sort it,” he offered quietly as he calmed down to focus on the mission at hand. 

They took to the base of the mountains and looked for any signs of disturbance. With fear running though the nearest village, it was clear to see that the crops were half unattended and in the middle of being harvested. “I’m going to go take a look at the surrounding areas and talk to the locals. You go on up the mountain and scout that out,” the Chief commanded. With a short huff and a nod, Eijirou turned to slowly and carefully make his way up and around the mountains. 

It wasn’t long before Eijirou returned with some news. Meeting in the center of town, the dragon descended slowly and waited for Katsuki to approach before he spoke. “I found a trail of blood from the ground leading up to a cave roughly halfway up the mountain. 

Nodding, Katsuki signaled for Eijirou to lower himself so he could climb onto his back. “Sounds about right. The locals saw a figure flying unsteadily across the sky and into the mountain. There was a loud thump before all went silent. It’s more than likely a dragon. It hasn’t done harm to the villagers yet, though, so a slow, quiet and careful approach is needed.”

Coming to the entrance of the cave, Katsuki hopped off Eijirou, immediately noticing the plants had been recently crushed and a splattering of dried blood was leading into the cave. Looking up to Eijirou, he nodded and quietly led the way in. Eijirou used a small breath to light the torch that Katsuki would have to use to see. 

It didn’t take them long to find the cause of the blood and crushed plants. Lying in front of them was a bronze dragon just as large as Kirishima, if not bigger, bleeding heavily from it’s hind leg, belly and face. 

“Holy shit,” Katsukimuttered as he looked over the sight. He froze as the dragon raised its head. Chuckling, you looked over at Katsuki and Eijirou. “If you have come to kill me, at least make it swift.” 

“Tch, don’t lump me with most humans,” Katsuki stated as he approached you, looking over the wounds. A huffing could be heard as he made his way closer, your muscles tense and beady eyes watching his form, ready to attack should harm come. “I’m a Bakugou. We don’t harm your kind.” 

“You may not harm but you enslave. I feel sorry for the red scaled one over there. Forced to serve you like their ancestors,” you mumbled, laying your head down and closing your eyes to rest. 

Eijirou huffed before he sat down. “I’m not. It’s nice to have lands that we don’t have to fight over and live in harmony with humans,” he protested, watching as Katsuki assessed the wounds. “I am from the Kirishima clan.” He beamed, almost a little too excited to say so. “It’s nice to see another shade of red around here. Normally those of the Shinsou clan are around these areas.” Eijirou started, tilting his head to the side. “So what brings you here?” he mused. 

Which was how you explained your side of the story. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to attack those of draconic race because of the first dragons causing havoc and turmoil for humankind. You were a young dragon who still had not found some land to live in. So, you were aimlessly looking around for somewhere to sleep before you were ambushed by a kingdom that had a bad past with dragons, driving you out. 

“Well,” Katsuki started as he backed off. “If you revert into your human form, we can take you back and give you medical aid. I’m not about to let a creature like you just die pathetically cold and alone in such a depressing state.” 

With that, they watched as your form changed into a bloodstained, corseted, sleeveless dress, wings still visible with a tail barely peeking from beneath your long skirt. Their eyes lingered for a little too long to be completely respectful.  

Getting up from where he lay, Eijirou gently enclosed you in his claws, protecting you, letting Katsuki onto his back before taking off back to the kingdom to give you the aid you needed. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next thing you knew, you were waking up to some argument going on outside, though you took no heed to it. After all, you would need to at least stay to repay the kindness the human has shown you before taking your leave. 

As the flap to the tent opened, you looked up at the figure that came to inspect you in the cot. “How are you feeling?” The one that entered had torn red wings and a thin arrow-headed tail much like that of the dragon you’d seen earlier. 

“Much better, thanks.” He watched you as you got up to move around.

“Yeah, my mother is a great healer.” The man beamed proudly before his face dropped for a moment in realisation. “Oh, that’s right! I’m Eijirou Kirishima!” He offered a hand for you to shake as he introduced yourself. “I’m Katsuki’s dragon companion. Speaking of which, when you feel up to it, he wants to see you in the throne room. He’s currently occupied with some business, so why not come later tonight before dinner? He wants to talk to you about some things.”

“Ah I see” You nodded in agreement though still clearly wary of him. 

“Yeah, my mom specialises in herbal and magical treatments for dragons. You should be fighting fit by the end of day! So enjoy yourself and have a look around! You’re more than welcome here as long as you don’t kill anyone.” You found yourself chuckling lightly along with him as he waved. “See ya! Rest up well and don’t push yourself too hard!” He beamed as he left. 

As Eijirou left you alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but think back to just how trustingly and kindly Katsuki had treated you. Taking your leave from the tent, you looked to the sky to gauge the time of day. Deciding you had at least an hour before the sun would set and you would need to see the Chieftain, you went to see what the town had to offer.

As you walked among the townsfolk, you couldn’t help but notice that dragons and humans walked around one another as if that were a normal thing to do. Had things always been like this? And how had this not spread to other countries? Though be that as it might, you were happy for these people; they seemed to be comfortable and welcoming just like the man who had found you. Perhaps you could stay a little longer than intended… 

Still, once the sun started to set you walked back the way you came only to come across a tent larger than most, assuming that was where Katsuki would be wrapping up the day. 

You slowly opened the flap as some villagers came out, happily discussing the day’s harvest before you heard. “Come on in, dragon!” Katsuki called as he remained seated on his chair smirking to himself. “Feeling better, I see?” he questioned as he sat up straight. Even like this, you could see and feel the power he irradiated. 

“Yes, much, thank you.” Bowing, you smiled before you were told to stand upright. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please just let me know. It’s the least I can do after you saved my life.” 

The moment those words left your mouth, you had a feeling that you were either going to live to regret it or thank him.

“Speaking of which,” he started as he leaned back and patted his lap. “Please, come here,” he commanded. Once you approached, he leaned forward, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger as if inspecting you. Up close, you could just see how deep ruby red his eyes were as well as how sharp his teeth were. For a human, he had a great set of fangs on him. ‘Shame he’s a human; he would have made a great and fierce dragon,’ you couldn’t help but think before he spoke, bringing you back to reality. 

“Yes, you’re perfect,” he muttered, pulling you into his lap forcefully by your waist. “Strong willed, a fighter, and someone I could learn to grow better with,” he stated as he suddenly captured your lips. “You will be my partner,” he stated as his hands wandered low. 

Spluttering and blushing, you thrust your arms at his chiseled chest, putting some distance between the two of you. “B-But how do you know? I could kill you! You barely know me,” you protested, though with his power he forced you to fold your arms, leaning in to whisper. 

“But you owe me your life. Surely this is nothing and if you don’t feel like you’re the one you’re more than welcome to leave,” he purred.

You knew he was right. This young, powerful man knew that dragons didn’t back down on their word, and so serving him would mean repaying the debt? A small price to pay, truly. 

“So why not get on your knees for your Chief and thank me properly?” he offered, leaning back and letting go of you. You watched as the grin on his face was almost ear splitting as you sunk to your knees in front of him. He let his hands wander down his trousers to help you get them off and down to his ankles. 

“That’s it,” he praised, reaching out to gently lay his hand on your head. His eyes watched you with keen interest as you slowly took him into your mouth. He wasn’t completely hard and you shifted to get a better angle and grip him in your hands, though he tried to encourage you with soft words. “That’s it, fuckin’ take it all in,” he muttered as he leaned back, getting more comfortable on his throne. The grasp on your hair got tighter as he started to get impatient and guide your face along his length. “Come on now, no need to be so shy about it.” His teeth showed as he smiled. “You’ve lived longer than I have, surely you have the experience?” he goaded. Which, if you were honest with yourself, was true. You were most likely older than him, and could show him a thing or two while you’re at it. 

Straightening your back a little from the floor you looked over his hardening dick. Licking your lips, you took the head in, using the flexibility to weave in between the head of his cock and the shaft before leaning up and taking it in as much as you could. Tongue flat, running along the thick vein underneath, you slowly bobbed your head back and forth, breathing when you could. It wasn’t long before you felt a tug with the hand that ran through your hair to pull you away from him, leaving you panting, and breathless from working so hard to please him. 

His cheeks flushed a bright pink he chuckled almost as breathlessly as you, having forgotten how to breathe in the moment before letting go of your hair. “What a good girl,” he praised as he shifted back and patted his lap.  “Why not come for a ride?” he questioned as he watched you stand. “I would have taken you back to my room, but I'm feeling impatient. It’s my birthday after all,” he informed, eyes hungrily watching over your form as you stripped naked, and then worked on taking off his trousers completely. 

“Your birthday?” you questioned him as you straddled his lap. “I see. Perhaps this will be enough of a gift then?” you mused lining yourself up, slowly trying to sink yourself down on him.

His head slammed back against the back of his throne as he groaned. You were taking your time, though as you hadn’t prepared yourself. You knew your body could and would stretch, but it was painful to begin with. He was stretching you to your limit, but you licked your hand to reach down to let the saliva coating his dick for an easier entry only then were you able to sit down fully on his lap. 

Taking a good minute or two you both sat, panting, just feeling one another as you got used to the stretch of his cock within you. His hands empassing your hips, he tried to get you to move, but you had other ideas. It was his birthday? That’s just fine, but you would make sure it would be a ride he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. 

You gently grasped his hands and took them off your hips to raise them above his head as you started to roll your hips back and forth. Leaning in close to kiss him and to distract him, you used your tail to wrap his hands above his head. He only just realised when you leaned back.

“W-What the fuck is—shit—the big idea?” he panted as his eyes were glued to your form, which started moving so effortlessly up and down on his dick. 

“It’s your birthday. I want to spoil you, so enjoy the ride.” Chuckling a little darkly, you couldn’t help but use your wings to give you some extra momentum and power into your movements as you rode him. 

He couldn't believe just how lucky he was to have such a beautiful person ride him within an inch of his life. You knew just what to do and how to please him, which, to his embarrassment, had him orgasming not much longer after you started. 

“F-Fuck!” he grunted, unable to couldn’t help it when his hips met yours. Though your gut had only just started to coil with your own orgasm, much to your disappointment. You remained seated on his lap as he came down from his high, letting go of his arms. 

He watched you only to frown. Noticing you hadn’t orgasmed yet he couldn’t help but feel like a teenager all over again. 

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. 

Growling, he forcefully lifted you up from him as he slid to the floor, getting you to sit in his seat. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you to his face and started to lap up not only at his own cum that had started to seep it’s way out from the confines of yourself, but searching for any original taste of your own essence. This surprise had you leaning over with a groan. In all your years, no other man had been so willing about doing this. 

Smirking from the inside of your thighs, he knew from your expression that you were loving it or at the very least surprised by his movements. “What?” he questioned, so close to your cunt that you could feel his breath ghosting it. “Never been eaten out before?” He seemed a little too smug, as if he almost already knew the answer. 

With a shake of your head, he only shifted closer and got more comfortable as he nudged your clit with his nose. “Hmm, good. I'm a man starving for pussy and it’s delicious, so don’t mind me,” he muttered before his gaze lowered. 

Though his dick felt great, this was almost a thousand times better. There was no painful stretch, only a soft muscle, though not deep. The slurping and sucking sounds and sensations were what quickly brought your end. He was more than happy to guide you though your high as you remained hunched over his head, hands which you now realised were in his hair, forcing his face just that much closer. 

Leaning back once you had come back to Earth, you watched him as he wiped his chin and cheeks with the back of his arm. “Thank you for the meal.” He chuckled, giving off a lopsided smile, showing off the pearly whites of his sharp teeth. He stood as he gathered up his trousers as he got dressed. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner in my home,” he stated as he turned to you and passed you back your clothes. 

Slowly taking them, you nodded as you got dressed despite the shake in your legs. “Y-Yeah, I think I will,” you confirmed as you slipped back into your clothes. 

“Good choice. I’m not finished with you yet, beautiful.” Leaning in, he kissed your cheek before taking his leave only to find a very flustered Eijirou waiting outside. “Something wrong?” Katsuki questioned with folded arms, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

“N-No!” the dragon protested, though the redness that was spread all the way up to his ears gave him away. 

“Next time, just ask. It’s rude to eavesdrop.” Katsuki laughed as he walked away, going to join the mass for dinner. 

“K-Katsuki! I had to make sure you were safe! After all, she’s a rogue dragon,” Eijirou protested in earnest. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that would be something that Eijirou would very much like to do. 

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki took a seat at the head of the banquet table, waiting for your arrival before the festivities could begin.

[hobidreams]

november 1868.

but you’ve always been his, haven’t you?

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst words: 2.8k contains: historical au, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship dynamics (but era-appropriate; you know how it goes), explicit sexual content, longing.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble eight. start from the beginning?

If there is one inevitability in life, it is that time goes on.

You, like everyone else under King Yoongi’s reign, simply do your best to survive with your head intact. With the ground now mostly frozen over with ice, you have no reason to visit the gardens, and honestly, it becomes less of a loss by the day. You have your hands full with work; the worsening winter always means a higher possibility of catching an illness for the court ladies, and so you are left with little time to think of the king. Willful ignorance is a powerful defense mechanism when even the mere mention of him brings a frown to your lips and a lingering pressure in your chest.

But it is impossible not to think of him today, on the 11th of November. What would have been Queen Jeonghui’s birthday, but is instead a day of mourning.

All official business has more or less halted for the day. The entire palace is somber, the occupants moving through familiar routines feeling numb from more than just the cold. You are among their number, having finished all the work that could distract you while the sun set. Now, you wander in the pitch dark, through the open corridor towards your quarters with heaviness in every step.

You miss her laugh. The queen had always treated you like one of her own, asking after your interests, new discoveries, and health even while her own dwindled. You miss hearing the stories of her surprisingly rambunctious life before she came to court. You miss the brightness in her voice when she spoke of the hopes she had for the future of the kingdom, and for her precious Yoongi. You blink away a tear as your journey comes to its end.

In your small but private room, you begin to undo the straps of your hanbok with the relieving sense that this day is almost over. Stripped to your undergarments, you’re eager to crawl beneath the warm blankets and let blissful sleep take you into tomorrow as soon as your eyes shut.

Except sleep is not easily persuaded to come tonight, as you soon learn.

Even when you force your body to stay still as long as possible, even when you try to block out all thought and simply imagine blankness before you, you remain no closer to dreams, forcibly stuck in this bleak reality. That’s when your exhausted mind begins to wander to places most dangerous, even though you already vowed to stay far, far away.

You wonder whether the king is alone in his grief tonight. Has he eaten properly, or has he completely shut himself away? Does he even have enough heart left to mourn from all you’ve witnessed these past months?

(This last thought is what makes you ache the most, despite yourself.)

Then a quiet voice mutters your name from outside.

You blink and look up, uncertain whether it was just the wind. Who would it be at this late hour anyway? Who would be so bold as to call your name and not your title? But then the sound comes again, louder this time with some impatience in the syllables, and you realize exactly whose voice it must be.

Scrambling to your feet with the chill of losing the blanket sweeping over you, you have a split second to decide between keeping him waiting and having a proper appearance. You land somewhere in the middle, pulling on a loose, long jeogori that was once your mother’s before throwing the door wide open before you can think it through.

Damn all the odds.

It really is him.

In the moonlight, his hair seems almost ethereal with the way most of it cascades loosely around his shoulders. It’s fine, pale gold, spilling across the crimson dye of the royal robes that have been left slacker than is normally allowed in public company. There’s still a hardness in those midnight eyes, a set obstinacy in lips twisted down for a scowl that seems all too inherent to him now.

“Jeonha,” you exhale, more breath than sound.

How are you meant to receive him after all that has happened?

Wordlessly, he moves forward. You flatten yourself against the wall to allow him entry into your tiny home, your world without question, just like you always have. His sleeves brush past you as he walks and the incredibly subtle scent of plum blossoms begins to swirl around the air, so familiar it brings a hot sting to your eyes in an instant.

“Is that—”

“Shut the door.” His voice is biting, forcing you to drop the question.

You have little choice in the matter. When you turn back to face him, this room feels about three times smaller with the imposing aura that emanates from him. He has never felt more like a king to you than now, staring at you down his nose like he holds your life in his palm. At this distance, you fear he can hear the palpitations of your treacherous heart.

“Um.” You involuntarily wrap your hands around your stomach, trying to calm the jitters. “…How may I help you, jeonha?”

His lips curl in a smirk, but there is no real humor in it. “You must know the only thing a man and woman can do alone at night?”

Surprise is so blatant on your face that it amuses him; the smirk grows wider but remains empty still.

“You— You wish to do that?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Did you or did you not say to come if I had anything I required?”

He remembered. He knew it was you. A part of you thaws, just an inch.

“Still— Must… Must it be tonight?” Of all nights.

“It has to be.”

You swallow, dry. All you know of the act are the medical descriptions and consequences of such copulation as written out in your studied texts. To think of such a thing occurring in real life— to even consider it with the king! It was beyond your wildest thoughts, even when you used to let your childhood fantasies soar. But even more ludicrous than that, for him to consider being with you, a mere uinyeo when all the ministers routinely brought their high-born daughters to court in hopes of tempting him… “W-What of the court ladies, the ones waiting to be made concubine…?”

At your last word, he scowls like a bolt of lightning, gone before you can confirm that it was there at all. “I see.” He shifts, as if already prepared to leave. “I should have gone to them first.”

Your stomach drops.

The prospect of a random woman wrapping herself around him in seduction, holding him closer than he’s ever been to you… You wince. The mere thought of how he might fit against her, leave a part of himself inside her body, strikes envy deep into your mind. Especially when you consider all that could follow such an intimate act.

You know it’s not your place to be so concerned; it never has been, but damn it. Here he is in front of you, and not them. That has to mean something.

“No!” You blurt out, and watch his face darken with satisfaction. That in itself makes you fiercely aware of how much he has changed but still, you say, “no. Don’t… don’t go.”

In a stroke of boldness, you slip the jacket from your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“Good girl.”

It all happens so quickly.

Grasping your arm, he brings you to him with one strong tug. Invades your space with his heat. You’ve never been this physically close before but you are given no time to savor it. Your eyes search his for a hapless second before he forces his gaze away with a light whip of his hair. For a second, you think like he might kiss you, but that particular touch never comes.

“Bed.” The air around the word makes it sound like he’s rushing as he pulls you both towards the mussed bedspread, but of course it’s not that. It’s almost laughable, the thought that he would want so badly to claim you as his. It’s more likely that he wants any warm body beneath him, and you happened to be the most convenient.

As he pushes you to the floor, as he begins to strip you of your undergarments, your mind struggles to set aside your worries and the rest of the world with it to focus on the feeling of his unobstructed fingers on the skin he reveals with each passing second. For a moment, it works. For a moment, all you know is the heat of his desire as he throws aside most of your coverings, then discards his own as if they were nothing more than cleaning rags. Staring at his bare body for the first time, you take in all the lean muscle that make up his chest, the paleness of his skin that brings to mind the word delicate. It’s at complete odds with the ugliness that’s surrounded him for so long and really, you don’t know what to believe anymore as he rakes his eyes over you too.

You’re shivering. Keenly aware of your nakedness, made even more stark when your king practically fixes you to the floor with his presence alone. He must know this is all new to you, that he’s the only one able to put you in this position even after everything he’s done. But will that afford you the tenderness you so crave? Your pulse thunders in your ears as you await the answer.

“Turn over. On your hands and knees.”

Your breath hitches.

He doesn’t even want to look at your face.

You choke back the emotion that yearns to spill over, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing exactly how he affects you when he doesn’t allow you the same luxury. You’re stronger than this, even though your fears have just been confirmed. That this, his broad hand harshly squeezing your ass, is the only reason he broke through the thick wall of silence between you. That he treats you just like any other woman, not one he’s known all his life.

What does it say about you that you’re still willing to give him everything?

His other hand trails down your back as if lightly scratching an invisible character there. Then, when he reaches for your sokgot, the last bit of cloth left to you, it truly hits you that there will be no going back from this. Not after he physically carves himself into your memory. It makes you unthinkingly tense up; in turn, the hands against you stutter to a pause.

The silence feels thick, smothering. Then—

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No.”

You say it before you can decide whether it’s the truth or merely what you wish would be the truth.

“Hm.”

He leaves you wondering if that was the answer he wanted and resumes, undoing the ties, pulling away the layer that wants to cling to the slight wetness between your thighs. Evidently not one for wasting time, and why would he linger when he just wants an easy release anyway, he runs the tip of his thumb down your slit before pushing eagerly into your heat. The lewd moan that you emit is a noise you’ve never made before, and it makes your face burn with shyness.

You’ve touched yourself like this perhaps three times ever, more out of medical curiosity than anything. You didn’t quite see a point in it when it just left you feeling lonely once the high faded. But under your king’s control, it feels maddeningly new. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what he’s going to do next, like when he suddenly pushes in a second finger and you feel the spike of pain work its way through your limbs before giving way to the next wave of pressure. It’s just almost too much to take, his insistent kneading against your dripping walls.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight. Just for me? Only take my fingers like this?” He feeds you another finger when you nod, huffing a smirk at your whine. The unfamiliar words are as harsh as his hands. You’ve never heard him like this, so rough and cocksure, practically an utter stranger. But a stranger could never bring out such overwhelming emotions in your chest, your poor, confined heart.

Your legs are soon shaking with the strain of holding up your weight when pleasure and pain war so intensely in your body; but you don’t dare collapse in surrender, even though this has always been a losing battle. Not even when he rears back, replacing his cream-slick hand with what you think is the blunt head of his cock. He whets it along your folds and it feels so much thicker, intimidating like the rest of him. But you want it. You realize then just how much you want it, even if this is all you’ll have of him when it’s over.

He leans over you, hot breath whisking across your back, a palm on your hip. “I’m your first.” It sounds like a boast. “No one else.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No one else.”

And he takes his first stroke.

Hisses when he feels you squeeze around him, and you wonder if this is his first time too. Then you have to force yourself to stop thinking about that altogether, afraid that the real answer might hurt more than this: the ache of being spread apart with every brutal, solid inch, filled too quickly by a man who doesn’t seem like he could take things slow even if he wanted to. He keeps shoving forward, biting down every surfacing grunt as his nails dig into your waist and it hurts. It hurts so much but you grit your teeth, refusing to back down because you need him to know that you can take this. Even when your mouth feels drier with every yelp, every moan, you tell yourself it’ll be easier the next time he wants to have his way with you. Right now, that seems better than not feeling him at all.

“This cunt,” he finally growls when he bottoms out, for once sounding so unbridled that goosebumps speed down your weakening arms. But you find yourself liking the sound, craving it even as he pauses to catch his breath.

The first few thrusts are slightly awkward. Just his hips bumping against your ass as he tries to find his footing. It doesn’t take long until he picks up a rhythm. Starts to slam into you, jolting you forward. Soreness starts to grow exponentially with a foreign feeling you think might just be pleasure spreading throughout all of you. You concentrate on that in lieu of your knees forced repeatedly against the hardness of the wooden floor, the bedding too thin to provide any real comfort.

“Jeonha,” you gasp on a particularly deep thrust, and he seems to like that. Strokes faster in response (or perhaps reward). You don’t even register that you’re half-smiling when he does, having learned something about him that is privy to only the two of you.

On top of that, he can’t seem to stop touching you. It goes beyond the way he fucks into you, more into how he can’t stop exploring the expanse of your back with his nails or with his mouth, sucking stinging marks into your body. It’s as if he needs to have as much skin contact with you as he will allow himself, needs to feel your warmth just as much as you crave his. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, but you try again with a hoarse, “jeonha.” He gives it to you harder, rousing, stoking that dangerous tension.

You don’t even notice his mouth beside your ear until— “Mine.”

He claims you, and something inside you melts. Not a particularly powerful feeling but a sea change nonetheless, a weak peak that ripples out, thrums through you both. He allows you to submit to the sensation for a few scarce seconds before he tears himself away, leaving you to pulse around nothing, whimpering from the emptiness. You barely recognize the sound of skin on skin friction but suddenly, heat splatters across your back, white painting itself over your skin as he gives one, elongated exhale and it’s over.

The king backs up, shifts away. Lets any lingering warmth between you dissipate into the ice air of winter, but this time he holds your gaze with a certain firmness, as if trying to pluck out the slivers of truth in your expression. In his eyes, the thin scar ever carved down the right, you find only more depths. Fathomless, endless depths – dark and painful still.

[fireheartbuzzard]

my dream

day one: i just realized i’m desperately in love with you

author’s note: hi everyone!! this is my very first rowaelin fanfic, so i’m sorry if it’s bad lol. i’m also sorry that it wasn’t posted on time. my senior year of high school started at the beginning of september so everything was very hectic and crazy around that time, still is with college applications coming up, but i was able to finish this story. for all the other prompts, i either have an outline/idea for it or i’ve started writing something already. i know it’s late, but bear with me as i try to balance high school and everything else. i’ll add a header photo later, i think. idk. i’m new to this 😭

content warning: slight angst, lots of repeated words/phrases (sorry lol)

word count: 4.3k

~

Rowan’s eyes drooped as he walked into his home after a long day of work, desperately needing a nap on his lumpy couch. He set out to make some coffee for later tonight, knowing that he’d have to stay up again to finish another project for his summer class.

Rowan probably shouldn’t have procrastinated his assignment in order to spend time with Aelin at the carnival earlier this week, but he’d rather that than have Aelin spend time alone with Chaol. Just the thought of his name made Rowan scoff.

After being friends for a couple of months, Chaol had recently become Aelin’s new summer fling. Rowan always knew he’d had ulterior motives, but when the idea was brought up to Aelin, she’d laughed and said, “If anyone here had ulterior motives, it’d be me.” Rowan had no clue as to what Aelin was talking about, but she’d insisted that it was only a one-time thing and so far, had been determined to keep a buffer between them, which meant that Rowan had to accompany them on every single “date.”

Despite grumbling the whole time to Aelin at the carnival, Rowan had to admit feeling satisfaction after shoving the ice cream into Chaol’s face in order to prevent him from kissing Aelin. While Aelin looked amused during the whole ordeal, Chaol looked the exact opposite with a scrunched up mouth and furrowed brows. Rowan thought he looked constipated.

Maybe, he was. Rowan shook his head, no no, he was definitely angry.

Rowan smiled to himself as he poured boiling water into the coffee strainer over his mug. Letting it sit when he finished, he walked over to his couch and laid down, allowing his body to rest after hours of exhaustion. His eyes drifted closed as he thought back to Aelin’s situation with Chaol.

Rowan didn’t understand why Aelin wouldn’t just break up with him if she didn’t like him at all. Hell, he doesn’t even understand the reason why she does half the things she does, her mind truly baffles him. He wouldn’t trade her for the universe though, not for anything. Every single part of Aelin fuses to create the most amazing person Rowan’s ever met; Rowan adored everything about her—her witty remarks, her melodious laughter, her long golden hair, her beautiful turquoise eyes with a ring of gold, her bizzare and wicked humor, just about everything.

Gods, don’t even get Rowan started on her smile. Rowan fucking loves her smile. He would do anything in the world for her face to brighten with that glorious smile of hers. It’s the first thing he thinks of in the morning and the last before he goes to bed. Just thinking about her can light up his mood and make him smile.

Settling into the couch even more, Rowan drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face and his mind stuck on Aelin.

~

Rowan woke up with a start, accidentally jerking the dead weight on his arm. He felt warm breaths puff against his chest as he looked down at the culprit of his numb arm. Aelin lay in his arms, halfway on top of him, with her arm thrown across his waist and her legs entwined with his. Rowan smiled as he looked at her slightly open mouth and her golden blonde hair cascading down the edge of the couch.

Rowan had to get started on his project soon and he had his coffee waiting for him, but he couldn’t even move with Aelin lying on top of him, not that he wanted to anyway. So, giving in to this small defeat, Rowan stroked Aelin’s hair as he thought about his dream.

Rowan woke up to a smattering of kisses across his face and the loud giggling of a toddler, followed by quiet laughter. He felt a slight weight on his chest and small hands grabbing at the skin on his face. Opening his eyes, Rowan was met with striking cerulean blue eyes and a head of silver hair.

“Hey, papa!” The toddler grinned at Rowan, eliciting a smile from him.

“Hey, baby,” Rowan grabbed the toddler’s head and placed a loud smacking kiss on her forehead, evoking even more giggles from the kid.

He noticed Aelin drifting closer, hands cradling her swollen belly. “Alaïa wanted to wake you for breakfast. It only seemed fair to have her loudly slobbering all over you as your wake-up call since we all woke up early to make breakfast,” Aelin smiled as she spoke, her face glowing with happiness and amusement.

As Aelin sat on the edge of the bed, next to Rowan’s arm, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. Leaning in towards his ear, Aelin whispered, “Hurry up and get your spectacular ass downstairs before all the food is gone.” Aelin gathered Alaïa into her arms before leaving the bedroom.

By the time Rowan was downstairs, breakfast was in full swing. Instead of going to the dining table, Rowan stayed standing at the foot of the stairs, observing his family. A girl—with the same golden hair as Aelin and the same pine green eyes as Rowan—ate quietly with her shoulders back and her head held high. The boy across from her—with Aelin’s eyes and a head full of silver hair—smiled at his younger brother who was struggling with getting the food onto his spoon. The younger boy looked exactly like Rowan, as if someone made a clone of him with his hair.

Alaïa was a sight to behold. With food on her face and clothes, she looked to be having trouble maneuvering the food to her mouth with her spoon, accidentally flinging it into her silver hair instead. She seemed to be on the verge of tears from frustration, but with one quiet laugh from Aelin, Alaïa peered over at the smiling Aelin and gave a little giggle.

Aelin glanced up at Rowan in that moment and opened her mouth to say, “Da—”

A small noise of content broke Rowan out of his reverie. Rowan looked down and noticed that he’s still stroking Aelin’s hair as she nuzzles her head further into his hands. A small smile graced Aelin’s face, making her appear peaceful. Watching Aelin sleep made Rowan smile; he could watch her do anything and never get bored because he was just so enamored by her.

Rowan jerked to a stop. Enamored? His brows furrowed in confusion as he thought back to Aelin. Rowan does not believe he can live his life without Aelin in it; he doesn’t even want to think about the prospect of it.

As a groan broke out of Aelin’s lips, she snuggled closer to Rowan. He watched as her eyes fluttered open and she took in her surroundings before smiling up at him. It was the sight of that smile that made Rowan realize the truth of why he’d felt so satisfied upon smashing that ice cream cone into Chaol’s face and why his heart beat a bit faster whenever Aelin’s attention was on him. Just like it was now.

“Hi,” she croaked, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Rowan smiled, “Hi.” He looked around before looking back down at Aelin, “So, how’d you get in here?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion before she quickly snapped her fingers. “I broke in by using a rock to smash your windows,” Aelin grinned. Rowan felt blood draining from his face at her answer.

“WHAT?!” Rowan sprung up from the couch and walked to his front windows. Knowing Aelin, that couldn’t be exaggerated and didn’t sound like it’d be far from the truth. However, as he got to the curtains, he heard quiet giggles and turned around in time to hear them turn into loud cackles of laughter.

“Calm down, Buzzard. I was only kidding. I snuck into your backyard and used the key you hid in your shed by breaking down the shed door.” Aelin rolled her eyes at his exasperated expression, “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, you told me where you hid the spare key when you were confessing secrets while drunk off your ass,” Aelin waved a hand.

Rowan was never so mortified before. Secrets? Not just one, but more?!

Aelin must’ve seen the mortification written on his face because why else would she bellow with laughter like she was right now. Rowan just shook his head as he walked into his kitchen and grabbed his mug of coffee.

By the time he got back, Aelin was scowling at her phone.

“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked as he sat back on his couch and took a sip of his coffee. Aelin only groaned before throwing her hands up in the air and kicking her feet like a petulant child, causing Rowan to chuckle at Aelin’s antics.

“Chaol wants to go on another date,” Aelin frowned. “He’s insistent on continuing to meet up until he has to go back to Rifthold by the end of the summer.”

Rowan couldn’t help but frown along with Aelin. “I don’t understand why you won’t just call it quits. You obviously don’t like spending time with him.”

Aelin rolled her eyes in return. “I find his company companionable and I want to keep having him in my life.” Aelin sighed, “Anyway, can you please join us? He wants to have a picnic on the beach this Friday.”

Rowan thought about seeing half-naked Chaol and his grabby hands around half-naked Aelin on the beach and grimaced. He did not like the idea of seeing Chaol around Aelin at all, let alone a half-naked Aelin, so Rowan definitely had to go.

Rowan sighed as he ran his hand over his face, “I’ll go.”

“Really?” Aelin beamed. At Rowan’s slight nod, Aelin shifted on the couch and squeezed Rowan tight around the waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She murmured into his chest. Rowan wrapped his arms around her frame and squeezed her back. Rowan could definitely get used to this. Aelin pulled back a second later and stood up from the couch. “Okay, I’ve got to head home and feed fleetfoot now,” Aelin smiled, “Thanks for the amazing power nap.”

“Break in again anytime,” Rowan smiled as he heard her chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, Buzzard.” Aelin waved goodbye before leaving the living room and closing the front door behind her.

Upon hearing Aelin leave his home, Rowan thought back to his revelation earlier today. Rowan Whitethorn was in love with his best friend and she didn’t even know it. He was screwed. He was so irrevocably screwed and he had no clue as to how he’d get himself out of this mess.

~

Rowan was fuming. He swore that steam was blowing out of his nose and ears like those cartoon characters. Aelin had given him a popsicle to “cool off” and right now, Rowan felt like a petulant child at the beach.

The whole day, Rowan’s been doing his damn best to block Chaol from Aelin, but it seemed like Chaol caught onto his game and is now quicker with his actions. Aelin hasn’t been helping either. Not with the way she’s voluntarily playing in the water with Chaol right now in her show-stopping black bikini with embroidered little golden dragons.

Earlier, Chaol offered to put sunscreen on Aelin’s body for her. Before Rowan could beat him to it, Chaol had already started applying the cream to her long tan legs. Aelin didn’t even protest, but she didn’t miss the sharp glare Rowan sent Chaol’s way, silently laughing at Rowan.

It certainly didn’t help when Chaol was applying the sunscreen slowly, as if trying to memorize the feel of her skin. And instead of quickly stopping Chaol, Aelin keenly kept an eye on Rowan, an amused look on her face as she caught the narrowing of his eyes.

A while later, they played in the sand together like two toddlers on a date. Aelin giggled the whole time as she buried Chaol in the sand and created a mermaid body for him. Rowan figured she needed help getting sand so he repeatedly kicked sand towards Chaol from where he sat on his beach chair. A lot of the sand landed on Chaol’s face, which earned him a shout and glare from Chaol, but it wasn’t Rowan’s fault that the sand landed on his face when Rowan aimed it towards his neck.

Totally not his fault. Must’ve been the wind.

Aelin seemed to be amused by the whole ordeal, if the twinkle in her eyes and the giant smile spread on her face were anything to go by.

The rest of the day seemed like it was “Ignore Rowan Time” because they both ignored Rowan and kept to each other. They went to buy popsicles together and deserted Rowan at the beach. They reappeared about twenty minutes later, only to desert him again to go into the water. Rowan had enough of it.

Now, Rowan watched from afar as Chaol put his slimy hands all over Aelin, carrying her onto his shoulders and dropping her into the water. Sighing in frustration, Rowan angrily bit down a big bite of the popsicle before throwing the rest into the trash can a few feet away.

Grumbling the whole way, Rowan walked down towards the water, looking for ways to easily throw Chaol into it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aelin spin towards him, smiling as she looked at him. Rowan returned a small smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace.

As Rowan crept towards Chaol, he kept eye contact with Aelin, conveying his plans to her through the movement of his eyes. Aelin’s face shone with amusement as her eyes held a mischievous gleam. Chaol, noticing something amiss and Aelin’s wandering eyes, turned just in time to be tackled into the water by Rowan’s broad shoulders.

Aelin cackled as Chaol’s arms flailed above the water, paying no attention to Rowan as he stalked toward her. It was already too late by the time Aelin felt herself get lifted by Rowan’s hands.

“Don’t you dare, Buzzard,” Aelin warned as she repeatedly slapped Rowan’s bare back. Rowan only slapped her butt in return, to which Aelin quickly gasped, “Rowan Whitethorn! You did not jus—”

Aelin was thrown into the water before she could even finish her sentence. Rowan watched in amusement as Aelin’s arms flailed before she pulled herself above water, spitting a mouthful of salty water at Rowan’s chest. Wiping the water from her face, Aelin glared at Rowan before running as best she could in water and trying to tackle Rowan. Rowan was immovable, but he grabbed her around the waist and fell backwards into the water anyway, pulling Aelin with him.

Up above the water again, Aelin glared at him and huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, Rowan’s arms still encasing her to his body. Rowan’s chuckle reverberated through Aelin’s body from where their bodies were touching.

The sun was setting, creating beautiful hues of pinks and oranges that reflected off of the many white fluffy clouds in the sky. Seeing Aelin bathed in that light was surreal. The ring of gold in her beautiful turquoise eyes, eyes that Rowan loves, more accentuated in the golden sunlight. Her golden hair glowing as if it was on fire. Aelin looked stunning.

Aelin grinned as Rowan’s hand flattened against her waist, his fingers contracting as if debating letting her go. Rowan noticed Aelin’s hand lifting to cup his face. Her hand was warm, as though the warmth of the sun she personified extended to her fingertips.

Rowan stared into her deep questioning gaze, eyes inquisitive as if waiting for him to do something. Rowan could only stare as she carefully stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, her hands slick with the beach water.

His eyes locked onto hers as she lifted her other hand to his face, her fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo along his temple. Rowan’s breathing turned ragged as he was reminded of the day’s events: how he was constantly left behind to watch over their things, how he was left out of the activities Aelin and Chaol had chosen to do, and how utterly frustrated and defeated he’d felt when Aelin didn’t try to avoid Chaol’s advances on her.

“Rowan,” Aelin breathed as her fingers slid down the side of his tattooed cheek, reminding Rowan of the way she’d touched Chaol today and how she’d allowed that touch to be reciprocated.

He quickly yanked both wrists off his face. He didn’t want her to touch him when she was fawning over some other man. He dropped her hands and stepped back, staring at her as she briefly closed her eyes in hurt.

“Don’t do that,” Rowan rasped, “Don’t—touch me like that.”

Aelin swallowed, her face burning red, “I’m sorry.” She backed away a step. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Rowan’s eyes shuttered, “Good.” The word repeated in his head. “Fine.”

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Rowan kept a neutral face as he stalked away, trying not to look like a wounded puppy. He quickly toweled himself off before gathering his things and leaving the beach without Aelin in tow.

~

Rowan didn’t know why he was here. He’d definitely ruined things between him and Aelin if the hurt on her face was anything to go by. But, Rowan couldn’t go to sleep knowing that he’d done something that hurt Aelin. He’d lied in his bed, staring at his ceiling before deciding to just go apologize to her. He didn’t look at the time at all, just put on some clothes and left his house. He didn’t take his phone, didn’t take anything but the keys in his hands.

Now, Rowan was staring at a small two-story cream-colored house. Kingsflame flowers lined either side of the short path leading to the front door. Aelin’s favorite flowers.

“Fuck,” Rowan sighed. He shook his head as he slowly brought it to lean against his car horn. “I should’ve gotten her flowers.” He glanced at the clock to see if there’d be a possibility for him to make a quick trip to the flower shop. 2:48, the clock read.

The flower shop wouldn’t even be open at this time.

Rowan sighed as he quietly got out of his car and made his way up to Aelin’s door, dread pooling in his stomach at the idea of Aelin ignoring him completely. As Rowan waited after ringing the doorbell, he took note of the light ballad coming out of Aelin’s small home, the sorrowful melody hitting him in the chest. Aelin only ever listened to that type of music when she was feeling heartbroken and Rowan was hurt knowing that he’d been the one to cause that pain.

He rang the doorbell another time before deciding that she probably couldn’t hear if her music could be heard from outside. Sighing, Rowan pulled out his phone and called her, hearing the music pause for the duration of an unanswered call, and waited until the call went to voicemail before he reluctantly walked to the fourth kingsflame flower from her front door.

Rowan, then, got onto his knees and dug out dirt until he was met with Aelin’s spare key, which was only supposed to be used in dire emergencies.

Oh, this was very dire.

Grimacing at his dirty hands, Rowan walked back towards the front door and opened it before getting inside. Rowan threw the spare key onto the counter before rinsing his hands and hightailing towards Aelin’s bedroom.

Slamming open the French doors, Rowan’s eyes frantically searched for Aelin, finding the woman standing at the threshold of her connected bathroom in nothing but a blue towel wrapped around her lithe frame.

Shocked still, Aelin stood with wide, puffy, red eyes and a frown marring her beautiful face. Rowan knew she’d taken a bath to feel better, but it wasn’t enough to abate her emotions if the tears still lining her eyes were anything to go by.

Rowan’s chest hurt, his face crumpling in pain at the sight of her. “I am so, so sorry, Aelin,” Rowan apologized as he looked deeply into her sorrowful eyes. “I hadn’t meant to react like that—like your touch had been so repulsive that I had to quickly get rid of it. But when you did touch me, I was reminded of how you’d touched Chaol earlier in the day, how you’d allowed yourself to be touched by him. I didn’t like watching you with him, let alone touching him.” Rowan took a step forward and some of his anxiety quelled at the insistence in her eyes for him to keep talking. “I was mad and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Aelin seemed at a loss for words as she silently processed everything he’d said, her eyes analyzing his face as she searched for the sincerity of his words. Her head tilted slightly as if trying to further understand his words. “Why were you mad?”

Rowan subtly winced as rubbed the back of his neck, ducking his head and staring at the wooden floor. “Like I said, I don’t like Chaol,” Rowan explained.

“No, no. You said you didn’t like watching me with Chaol. You were jealous,” Aelin deadpanned.

“Mad or jealous, I don’t care. All I care about is you and the fact that I love you,” Rowan shouted as he threw his hands into the air.

Aelin’s breath hitched as she stared in shock at his sudden outburst. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she gaped at him. “Wh-what did you just say?” Aelin sputtered.

“I had a dream, Aelin. I was woken up by a 2 or 3 year-old child and she was laying on my chest when you walked in. You told me that you had her wake me up by giggling and kissing my face because while I slept in, you and the kids woke up early to make breakfast. Our children were in that dream and you were pregnant with our fifth child.” Rowan ran a hand through his hair before he took the remaining steps between them and gently cupped her face as he looked into her eyes. “When I actually woke up, you were right there in my arms. I’d never been more peaceful and content than when you were in my arms. As you were laying there, I’d realized I wanted that dream to become reality. And, I wanted that with you. You’re it for me, baby. You’re my dream and my forever. I love you, Aelin. Please forgive me.” Rowan gently rested his forehead against hers as he wiped the tears streaming down Aelin’s face.

Aelin’s hands came up to grasp his elbows as Rowan leaned down and kissed her right cheek, his hands moving to tuck her hair behind her ears. His lips moved towards her other cheek, pressing another light kiss there before moving onto both of her eyelids. He continued placing light kisses onto her forehead, her nose, and her chin.

As Rowan got to her lips, he angled his head away from her face to stare into her eyes, seemingly asking for permission to continue his path. When Aelin reached her hands up and gently cradled his face as he slowly leaned in, Rowan threw all caution to the wind and finally pressed his lips on hers.

Kissing Aelin was better than anything Rowan had ever known. The soft and hesitant, yet determined and insistent press of her lips against his set his body on fire. Rowan felt like he was burning inside out, but he didn’t care because every second with this woman in his arms was worth burning to ashes.

Pulling away, Aelin looked into his eyes, placed her hands on his shoulders, and said, “I know.”

Rowan pulled back a bit, pressing another kiss to her lips before looking at her questioningly. “What do you mean you know?” Rowan gently rested his hands on her waist and pulled her closer to his body.

Aelin sighed, “I mean, I know that you love me. Don’t worry, I love you, too, Rowan.” Aelin leaned onto her toes to lightly kiss him on his lips. “Why do you think I’d devised all these plans to make you jealous anyway?” Aelin shrugged.

Thrown off guard, Rowan froze as he stared her down. “Plans to make me jealous? What are you talking about? How did you know?”

“All I have to say is that you need to learn how to control your alcohol intake. Getting a love confession from my best friend when he’s shitfaced drunk was not how I planned on learning about his undying love for me.” Aelin waved a hand, “Anyway, I had Chaol act like an obsessed lover so you would get riled up and finally make a move. He’s truly only a friend that’s visiting for the summer and he has a fiancée back in Adarlan; she's actually in on it too, so no need to worry. I’m not so sure if my plan was a good or a bad idea, considering the tumultuous outcome.” Aelin glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

Rowan didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry. A sudden laugh erupted out of Rowan, startling both him and Aelin. “It was definitely a good plan if I’m able to be yours in the end,” Rowan muttered, leaning down to kiss Aelin.

Aelin pulled back and quirked a brow. “Who said you could be mine?” The question was paired with Aelin’s arms crossing over her chest. Rowan immediately paled.

“Well,” Rowan rubbed the back of his neck, “I assumed that since you reciprocated my feelings, you’d be my girlfriend now, but…” Rowan trailed off awkwardly.

“Did you ask yet?” Aelin inquired, a serious expression taking over her face.

Gripping Aelin’s hands in his, Rowan looked into her eyes as he asked, “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, will you do me the honor of allowing me to become your boyfriend?”

Aelin pretended to be thinking for a few seconds, eliciting a pinch in the side from Rowan. Aelin grinned, a smile so beautiful, Rowan would be a fool to not smile back.

“Of course, Buzzard.”

[skzsauce01]

Lord and Lady

Synopsis: The prospect of an engagement to a stranger is what makes you realize your feelings for Hyunjin. Victorian AU.

Warning: none

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: fem!reader x lord!Hyunjin

You are in love with Hyunjin.

It occurs to you when you are nineteen, when you are of marriageable age, when your father shows you an engagement contract to a man you have never met before. A man who is the heir to a banking empire, a man who is said to be even more handsome than Paris from the Greek myth, a man who is in desperate need of a proper wife. Your father tells you of his beautiful estate in the sprawling hills and the even more lavish life you will live like he believes that you will be swayed by these things alone. Your father appears to mean well; he keeps glancing over at you for approval, but you sit in front of him in stony silence.

When he finally finishes his speech, he slides a piece of paper towards you and sets his prized fountain pen across the top. You cannot even bear to entertain him by picking up the pen. You abruptly leave the room, running down the hallway to the stables as your father shouts for you to stop. Fortunately, he does not follow you or ask that one of the staff chase after you.

You only mean to ride around the property to clear your head, but your heart has other plans and leads you to the Hwang estate. You hand your horse to the stableboy and begin searching the estate on foot. It is a bright sunny day, and his younger sister will be wanting to paint him.

You eventually find them in the garden where Yeji is indeed working on her latest portrait of him. It is not quite right, you notice; the eyes are too stern and too cold.

“Hello there,” he greets first. He smiles at you and playfully tilts his head to the side. “Tell me, Y/N, has my sister finally captured my likeness? This is her third attempt, and I’m honestly getting bored of sitting here and doing nothing. Thank goodness you’re here to keep me company now.”

“Stop moving. And this is supposed to be a painting of Apollo, not you,” she corrects. She turns around on her seat and wiggles her paint-stained fingers at you. “Hello, Y/N. If you are here for a social call, I’m afraid I’m a tad preoccupied.”

You shake your head. “No, it is nothing of the sort. I was just passing by.”

“Stay a while!” Hyunjin exclaims. “You don’t have lessons today anyway.”

Yeji agrees since she is growing weary of her brother’s grumbles. They look at you with such eagerness that you weakly nod and stand by Yeji, playing director and telling Hyunjin to look in a certain direction. They chat about inconsequential things, and in the meantime, your stomach turns and ties itself into knots. You are not sure how long you can keep it hidden.

“Any suitors clamoring at your door?” Yeji asks you after you half heartedly tease her about the courtship letters she received last week. “Surely you have some yourself.”

Hyunjin pretends to be nonchalant about the whole affair, but his eyes have strayed away from you. You wring the ribbon around your waist.

“I… My father has arranged for me to be engaged.”

It is like the world has stopped. The low clouds in the sky pause in their drift, the birds go silent, and even the dust swirling in the air is frozen. Hyunjin stares at you, his lips parted but no words coming out. You see his throat bob as he thickly swallows, and you feel your own throat tightening.

Yeji, who witnessed you and her brother’s friendship tiptoe into something a little more, abruptly stands up from her seat. “I’m parched,” she loudly announces. “I think I will head inside for some lemonade.” She picks up her skirts, no doubt dirtying the wool, and hurries out of the garden.

“Engaged?” Hyunjin whispers after she is gone. “Are you jesting?”

“No.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You watch as he mouths swears to himself, a practice he adopted after being caned for using such coarse words at a dinner party. He loosens his cravat, a telltale sign that he is distraught. His mouth twists into something between a purse and a frown, indicative of his efforts to process something he cannot. You have picked up so many details about him over the years, you likely know him better than he does himself.

Slowly he says, “Congratulations on your engagement. Your betrothed is a lucky man.”

“Hyunjin, I don’t care about him.” You walk over to him and hold his hands in yours. He stiffens at your gloved touch, the way your own warmth permeates through the kid leather. “I am in love with you and only you.”

He says nothing. You wait, the sunlight making the back of your neck burn, but Hyunjin merely stands up and draws his hands back.

“Why do you torture me like this?” he quietly asks. “I can no longer have you, yet you tell me of these things.”

“I have not signed the contract.”

“And what does that mean for us?”

“That you and I can still be together. Hyunjin, ask me to marry you.”

His mouth twists again, and all you want is for him to kiss you. Too long you have waited for it. You want to run your fingers through his hair, to finally feel how soft and silky he claims it to be. You want him to pull you close, so close that you can hear his heartbeat and feel his breath on your skin.

Hyunjin Hwang is the man you have been in love with for so long, but it took you a near engagement to someone else for you to realize it.

Your heart pounds when he says nothing. Is he engaged to someone else? Can he not be with you like you have so hoped? Certainly he would have said something if he is betrothed to another woman. Or maybe he is in a position similar to yours. Your head spins with possibilities for why he does not accept you, and you can hardly focus. You lower your gaze from him to the ground where everything is much simpler.

“Y/N, look at me.”

When you see his face, you know he feels the same. Longing drips from his eyes like honey. With a faint smile on his face, he gently cradles your face and brings his lips a hair’s width away from yours. You are able to just feel every movement of his mouth, so you know he feels your growing smile. You let out a shaky breath as he says his next words.

“Lady Y/N L/N, will you do the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes.”

You tilt your chin upwards to finally, finally kiss him, only for him to move him away at the very last moment. He chuckles, and you feel his chest shaking as he does so.

“You rake,” you tease, making him laugh again. What a joyous sound it is! Why have you only become conscious of it now?

He lets you kiss the second time, and you could just melt. The way his lips meld with yours and the way he holds you just feel so right. He tastes of coffee and brandy, and you can imagine yourself kissing him like this after breakfast every day.

He pulls away first, but his thumb still draws patterns on your cheekbone. “I didn’t give you a ring.”

“What is a ring to your words?” you say, sighing into his shirt. You do not care about anything else in the moment. “Come, we must tell my father immediately.”

“Yeji first,” he disagrees, “lest she wonder where you and I have disappeared to. I think it is only fair that she learns of it first anyway.”

You nod. Whenever you told your father that you were going to the Hwang estate for a social call on Yeji, you spent most of the time chatting with Hyunjin. Whenever you and Yeji visited the city, she brought Hyunjin along as a chaperone instead of her governess and made no comment about you and him being a little too friendly. If you realized your true feelings sooner, you would bet your entire inheritance that she would have helped arrange illicit meetings. Yes, Yeji deserves to know of this happy engagement before anyone else.

But until she returns to the gardens, it is only you and Hyunjin.

Your head still rests on his chest, and his steady, even breaths calm your excitement. He is yours now, and you his. Already, his arm wraps around your waist protectively. You quite enjoy the feeling.

Yeji eventually comes back. She holds a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and balances a stack of glass cups in the other. When she sees you and Hyunjin nestled in each other’s arms, she nearly drops all the drinkware.

“My goodness!” she says once she has recovered from her shock. “Y/N, I thought you were engaged!”

You take great pride in telling her, “I am to Hyunjin now.”

She sets down the lemonade on an empty stool and looks back and forth between you and her brother in bemusement. “Then what was all that fuss earlier? Have you been going to the theater without me?”

You explain to her the situation, and she nods along in understanding, a wide grin forming with each sentence. By the end of it, she is nearly dancing around.

“Oh, I knew you two loved each other! And you will marry him and be my sister now!” She sighs and clasps her hands together rejoice. “You must tell your father at once! Go on now!”

She ushers you two away, acting more like an overenthusiastic aunt than a proper young lady. You and Hyunjin laugh at her eagerness and head for the stables.

On the ride back to your family’s estate, you and him trot side-by-side like usual. At a cursory glance, it appears that everything is normal: the gentleman from next door has graciously offered to escort you home after your outburst, and you are ready to be engaged to a banking heir. However, a closer look shows that Hyunjin is watching you more than the field ahead of him and that you are keeping your head down to conceal your elation.

The two of you hand your horses to the stableboy and head inside the house. You lead Hyunjin through the hallways to your father’s office, ignoring the curious stares from the house staff. He must be in there.

The door is ajar, and you knock on it twice. Your father obliges you to come in, and you wish Yeji were here to paint his stunned expression when you stride in holding Hyunjin’s hand. He pushes his chair back and stands up.

“Child, what is this?” he asks, his eyes flickering back and forth between your face and you and Hyunjin’s intertwined hands. He is not upset but confused.

“Father, this is my fiancé, Lord Hyunjin Hwang. You know him as Lady Yeji Hwang’s brother and our neighbor.”

Hyunjin bows, low and sweeping, in greeting. “Good afternoon, Lord L/N.”

“Fiancé? Since when?”

“Since today,” you answer, gazing at Hyunjin with adoration. He squeezes your hand in response. “I love him, and I have loved him for some time now. I will not marry the gentleman you spoke of earlier.”

“You are certain?” he quietly asks. “I see no ring on your finger.”

Hyunjin gives you a look that says, “You should have listened to me,” but you brush it aside. “I’m certain,” you tell your father.

To your surprise, your father throws his head back and laughs. “Child, if I had known about this, I would have arranged this myself with Lord Hwang. I had considered it, but I didn’t think your feelings were so strong.”

“So you will allow it then?” you say.

“Of course. He is more than a suitable match for you now that I see you two like this.”

You embrace your father in thanks, and he whispers a hearty congratulations in your ear. Then, he and Hyunjin awkwardly shake hands as your father welcomes him as a part of the family, never mind that there has been no wedding yet or even an official engagement.

It does not matter to you.

The love of your life is all that does.

~ ad.gray

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Five: Just A Man

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Fluff! (It's getting cute y'all!), death of a parent, grief, smoking, food, Silas🤢, a little sad Ezra in this one

W/C: 4k (made it a little longer to make up for the wait! 🥺)

A/N: We are back! I'm so so so sorry this took so long to get out! What can I say, life happened & kept knocking me down & I couldn't find the strength to write for this fic. I'm still not even completely happy with this chapter, but after reading it so many times, I think it's okay lol a huge thanks to everyone for being so patient & lovely to me ♥️ okay, I'll shut up, hope you enjoy!

Series || Main || Taglist || AO3

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

~MAY EIGHTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

As the days and weeks passed, Ezra finally felt comfortable enough to join you and Pa for meals at your family table, sitting and eating quietly until responding to a thought or question of Pa’s. It felt nice. It felt…warm and natural. As opposed to the slight coldness you’ve felt sitting with Pa, without your mother. Though it was still as quiet as your meals alone with your father, the silence now was more comforting.

You realized shortly after that last evening under the tree with Ezra what exactly ails you when near him, why exactly your pulse quickens and you feel heat flush your neck and cheeks. It was a startling conclusion, given that you have been inexperienced when it comes to the term ‘love’, outside of the love you felt for Ma and Pa. This, with Ezra, contrasts immensely.

It had caught you off guard, a small infatuation with the man that you realized must have taken hold of your heart from the first moment you met him, when you simply could not remove your eyes from his face. You now find your eyes lingering on his features longer, learning the curve of his smile, the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, memorizing the tone of his voice and his laugh to be replayed in moments of silence.

It’s strange; a simple emotion that you had witnessed your whole childhood into adulthood from your Ma and Pa, an emotion you carry in your heart for each of them, though the way you experience it now, the strength in which it has grasped onto your very being – and so suddenly – has been enough to make the room spin whenever you lay your eyes on him. The idea of taking a husband has never been one of priority. Up until now, at least.

“Many thanks for the delicious meal, miss. I am grateful you have welcomed me into your home as such,” Ezra says as he stands, helping you take the soiled dishes to the wash basin.

“You have always been welcome, Mr. Prospect. I am glad you now feel comfortable joining us,” you say with a gentle smile, looking up at him as he approaches you with the dishes. You catch a faint hue of pink spreading across his sun kissed cheeks.

“Would you care for a pipe, Mr. Prospect?” Pa calls out as he sits in his chair by the fireplace, beginning to pack away tobacco in his own pipe.

“I very much appreciate the offer, sir, however I do not smoke,” Ezra replies kindly as he turns away from you to face Pa and you begin washing.

“Good man; do not start the nasty habit until you become old and worn as I am now,” Pa jests.

“I only see a wise man, years of strength and kindness the only evidence that you have lived a wonderful life thus far,” Ezra compliments and Pa releases a hearty laugh.

“As I said: ‘old’,” Pa replies and both Ezra and you laugh along.

The genuine and natural lightheartedness of the conversations Pa and Ezra shared tonight warms your heart and you realize tonight has been one of the few nights you’ve smiled so freely, so frequently, since Ma’s passing and you strongly sense her spirit surrounding the three of you. Almost as if you could hear her laughing along with you all.

Although a feeling of sadness lingers in your heart that she cannot be here physically, you remember Ezra’s kind words and let them ease you. The comfort you feel wash over you leaves you pondering if it’s a sign of acceptance from above, from Ma, that she welcomes Ezra’s presence amongst you and Pa.

“Can I be of any assistance, Sunflower?” Ezra turns and asks quietly, out of earshot of Pa and addressing you by his personal endearment he has bestowed upon you.

“Thank you for offering, Ezra,” you reply just as softly. His given name had nearly slipped from your lips on more than one occasion tonight, but you felt it best to remain coy in front of your father. “I’m nearly finished now.”

“Perhaps tomorrow night. I will not miss my chance then to be of service,” he smiles and the inside of your cheek stings from the bite you dealt to keep from grinning widely. “I will take my leave for the night. The lovely beasts I room with will be missing my presence, I fear,” he says, loud enough for Pa to hear as well and Pa chuckles at his statement.

“Always a pleasure to have you for dinner, Mr. Prospect,” Pa says and stands to shake Ezra’s hand. “Daughter, would you be so kind as to walk Mr. Prospect to the door?”

“Yes Pa,” you nod, abandoning the soapy dishes for the time being and you wipe your hands to dry on your apron as you head towards the door with Ezra.

Pa smiles again in Ezra’s direction as he walks past and takes his seat once again, watching the flames dance and flicker. Ezra opens the door, allowing you to walk through and step on the porch and he follows suit, shutting the door behind him.

“Shall I walk you to the barn?” You offer.

“No, Sunflower, I would prefer you to stay. The dark of night may carry with it many dangers lurking around the corner.”

“All the more reason I should walk with you,” you grin, wrapping your arms around the wooden support post as you watch him step down into the dirt.

“Then I would intend on escorting you back here and we will only find ourselves repeating the action for one another until daybreak,” he chuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Sunflower.”

“Tomorrow,” you smile and nod. “Good night, Ezra.”

“Good night,” he bows his head in farewell and turns on his heels to head toward the barn. You linger a moment longer to assure he is well on his way, waving when he turns back to steal another glance at you.

You take a deep breath to calm your galloping heart and turn to walk back inside, Pa sitting quietly as he continues smoking. You head back to the wash basin to finish the chore, rinsing, drying, and putting away the dishes before heading over to sit next to Pa, grabbing a new book from your small collection.

You decided to leave Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland to read with Ezra under the tree and the image of the two of you lying in the grass as you read to him brings a contented smile to your face. After quite a bit of comfortable silence, you feel the curiosity inching through your brain like an insect and decide to give in to the itch.

“H-how are the crops faring, Pa?” You ask while picking at the corner of your book.

“They grow fine,” Pa replies simply. “Each and every week another inch to their lives added.”

“And… Mr. Prospect has been much help?” You continue carefully.

“Oh yes, he has taken on the majority of the labor. We are blessed that he sought to help us.”

“Yes,” you smile softly as you lower your head slightly, gathering the courage to continue the conversation. “And… How do you feel about… Mr. Prospect?”

“What do you mean, child?”

“The townspeople think him...odd.”

“They must reflect on themselves before passing that judgement onto an innocent man. Especially the four hens, as you like to call them,” you giggle and look up at Pa, a slight smirk hidden beneath his thick, grey beard as he lets out a deep chuckle.

“Yes, but… What do you think of Mr. Prospect?”

“Why the curiosity, daughter?” He asks, though no irritation is found in his voice; instead, a light-hearted tone, one of knowing. Knowing why you insist on finding out his opinion.

“Merely curious, Pa,” you say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear over the crackle of the fire.

“Hm,” he hums as he inhales smoke through his pipe, taking his time to retrieve an forthright answer from his mind while you gaze at him in anticipation.

“He is an honest man. Good and kind. A hard worker. I believe he is fit to be a lawful husband to any girl who seeks his affection,” he finally says, looking deep into your eyes and his words go straight to your fast beating heart.

You catch the smile on your face growing, evident in the strain you feel across your cheeks and you put your head down to face the book in your lap.

“That's nice,” you reply once you've cleared your throat and regained control of the muscles on your face.

“Yes. Yes it is,” Pa smirks as he inhales another puff from his pipe.

~MAY TENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Today is as exhilarating as the rest; you attempt to sort through the inventory of the shop, taking note of which supplies are dwindling while also marking down new items the townspeople have requested, such as candles and playing cards for the children. As you walk toward the back of the shop, beginning your count of products there, the shop bell dings and you hear boots stomping from whoever has stepped through the door.

“Just a moment, please,” you call out to the customer from over your shoulder, hoping not to lose track of the count in your head.

“Please, do not rush, Sunflower,” a gentle, familiar voice replies and you feel your heart thumping faster in your chest now as you turn quickly, inventory be damned.

“Ezra,” you greet the man standing meekly at the front of the shop. He takes a few steps forward to meet you beside the counter. “What brings you to town? Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, no thank you, Sunflower. I needed to send a letter off at the post and thought that my day would be much brighter were I able to visit you as well,” he says with a soft grin and you lower your head to hide the bashful expression on your face.

“Well, my day has brightened now, too,” you reply, gaining the courage to look up at him again, the apples of his cheeks reddening. “I trust you were promptly taken care of then?”

“Yes, Mr. Williams is a kind man,” he nods. “The elderly woman who works there as well – she is quite the conversationalist,” he releases a soft laugh.

“Ah, yes. Mrs. Williams,” you shake your head. “She actually does not work there, just adores to be in the center of it all,” you jest and Ezra chuckles. “I do hope she was not too overbearing.”

“Only slightly,” he shrugs. “After you and your Pa, her and Mr. Williams have treated me the kindest since my arrival.”

“Oh Ezra,” you share a perturbed look. “I am truly sorry for the way the town has behaved.”

“Sunflower, you have no reason whatsoever to apologize for the actions of others. Unfortunately, this town has not been the most unpleasant I’ve come across. I was very lucky to have found you. And your Pa,” he rushes the last phrase and you smile knowingly, his mouth curving slightly as well.

You open your mouth to continue the conversation, the innocent coquetry between you, yet no sounds are released from your mouth before the shop bell dings again and you sigh at the interruption. You turn your head and your racing heart, caused by Ezra’s presence, races faster, only in anger now.

“And what do we have here?” Silas’s booming, uninvited voice resonates through the shop. “What business could a queer like you have to conduct in town?” He looks at Ezra and you step in front of him.

“I told you not to call him that, Silas.”

“It does not seem he’s made any purchase,” he says, making a show of looking in Ezra’s hands for any paper bag. “Yet he is allowed to stay and converse while you toss me in the dirt.”

“Go away, Silas.”

“Sunflower-” Ezra calls gently from behind you, unable to finish his thought.

“‘Sunflower’?!” Silas laughs. “She does not need a freak to endear her, not when she has a real man. Like me.”

“Silas, he is more of a man than you could ever hope to be,” you spit out.

Of all the times you had the opportunity to speak your mind to Silas, you held back. Though, now that it is directed to Ezra, you feel that innate protectiveness for him wash over you again, no matter the cost or consequence.

“You dare say such a thing to me, girl?” Silas takes a menacing step forward.

“She is not a girl and you will not speak to her as one,” Ezra moves to stand in front of you now. “And I do believe she has requested for you to take your leave.”

“And exactly who will force me out? You?” Silas puffs out his chest, as if he were attempting to assert his role as an alpha, and frustration grows on his face at Ezra’s lack of response to the tactic.

“If I must.” Ezra replies simply and calmly, the tone of his voice even, though underneath lies a hidden message that he would not back down from a brawl, if it were to come to that.

“Ezra, please, he isn’t worth it,” you say softly, reaching out to hold his forearm.

“Oh, aren’t I?” Silas scoffs.

“I will summon Sheriff Wilson here to collect you himself if you do not leave my shop right this instant,” you hold your unyielding gaze to Silas’s, raising your chin slightly so as to challenge him to defy your wishes.

Silas hmph’s, his thick brows arching menacingly as he glances down at where your hand rests firmly on Ezra’s arm, clearly displeased at the contact. You feel Ezra’s form tense next to you, and you use your free hand to lightly press against his back in an effort to calm him.

“Fine,” Silas finally says harshly as he turns his back to you and Ezra and stomps to the door.

He looks over his shoulder one more time at the two of you and something about his animalistic eyes sends a nasty shiver down your spine. Before he can see you falter, he rips the door open, walks through, and slams it shut, rattling the frame as he leaves. You exhale shakily and Ezra turns his body to face yours, his hands gripping onto your upper arms as his eyes rake over your face in concern.

“Are you alright, Sunflower?”

“Oh Ezra,” you gaze at him thoughtfully. “It should be me asking you that same question.”

“Please, don’t worry about me. My only concern is you,” he continues, his eyes trying to follow yours as you look away from him. “Does he come here unannounced often? Has he bothered you before?”

“Ezra, he has always been a thorn in my side, but it is nothing for you to concern yourself with. I promise,” you look in his eyes, hoping to convince him, but you suspect it does not work and his hands fall from your arms.

“Sunflower… I did not appreciate the way he looked at you and spoke to you.”

“It’s alright Ezra, it is not anything I can’t handle,” you smile and grasp one of his hands in both of yours, squeezing it gently as reassurance.

You’re unsure of what to say. What could you say? That up until now you have been cowardly when it came to Silas Taylor? That it was not until Ezra’s arrival to town that you have come to know a stronger side of yourself, willing to risk your already frail reputation to defend this man’s name?

Ezra sighs heavily, staring into your eyes a moment longer before looking away. You watch his eyebrows crinkle together, the worry wrinkles along his forehead becoming more prominent as he reflects on the situation that just passed.

“Are you alright? Please… Do not take anything he says to heart,” you say softly and your kind voice pulls him back from his thoughts and to this moment with you. He smirks and huffs a chuckle through his nose.

“No fear, Sunflower. It is not a trial I cannot handle,” he cocoons your hands in both of his and squeezes lightly, as if to reassure you he is alright. “I will go now, Sunflower.”

“I understand,” you nod. “Then… I will see you back at the farm for supper.”

He smiles to acknowledge your words, releasing your hands and heading to the door. He turns once more to nod his goodbye, places his hat back on his head, and walks out the door. You walk to the front of the shop to watch him through the window, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward as he walks swiftly to leave the area.

Your head feels on fire, ready to blow steam at any moment as you watch the townspeople around staring at him. They turn to each other, presumably whispering gossip amongst themselves about him. Unfortunately, as you have come to know Silas, you know he will be spreading word of the ‘threat’ he felt from Ezra, which you surmise will only result in the townspeople turning their backs on Ezra even further.

~MAY TWELFTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Ezra had not shown up for supper that night or the night that followed. You had wanted to take supper to him, but Pa advised against it. He had heard on his last trip to town what transpired between you, Ezra, and Silas. You prepared yourself to, once again, defend Ezra, however, Pa’s unabated rancor of Silas all but guaranteed Pa would not believe a word from his mouth.

Pa informed you that when he returned and asked Ezra about the situation, he assured the man that he was not at risk of losing the job at the farm, and while he was grateful, he did not wish to speak on it further. Pa told you to leave him to gather his bearings and you complied.

On your way to the oak tree, you pick two apples as you had done the Sunday prior, and to your earnest disappointment, you do not see Ezra as the tree comes into view. You look left, then right, hoping it was possible he had just walked along the riverbank, but you were alone.

Heaving a sigh, you turn to face the way you came as you debate on heading back. Your weekly tradition almost seemed silly to continue alone, after having been in Ezra’s company the past few weeks. It almost felt...incorrect to spend time here without Ezra now. You take a few steps forward, now under the shade of the tree, sparing another moment in case you missed him.

“Sunflower,” his elated voice from above frightens you and you quickly turn your head to follow the sound, seeing his bright smile from where he sits on a thick branch.

“Ezra! You startled me!” You chuckle as you take a few breaths, covering your racing heart with your hand.

“My apologies,” he chuckles. “I did not hear you walk up otherwise I would have made my presence known sooner.”

“I did not expect to see you in the tree today,” you smile up at him.

“Come, join me,” he smiles, patting the bark to the side of him.

“I have not climbed a tree since I was a child, Ezra. I will fall,” you shake your head.

“I will never let you fall, Sunflower,” he smiles and your now settled heart begins to race again. “It’s simple, really. Nothing to it. I will guide your steps.”

You take a deep breath, pondering for a moment if the risk was truly worth it, but there’s an excitement in this small adventure that you feel your soul reaching for. You smile at Ezra and nod, removing your bag and placing it at the base of the tree.

You follow Ezra’s voice commands as he tells you where to step up and you use more muscles in your body than you have in so long. You heave yourself upwards, careful that your boots do not miss any section of the tree that will have you flying all the way back down.

Finally, you make it far enough for Ezra to take hold of your arm, using his strength now to help pull you up until you’re close enough to attempt to sit. He scoots over, keeping his hand tightly grasped on your arm to make sure you don’t fall. Though, at this point, if you were to fall, Ezra would certainly fall with you.

You plant your bottom firmly onto the branch, breathing heavily and smiling widely at the accomplishment and Ezra chuckles along with you. You try to settle yourself further and suddenly get the sense of falling, reaching out instinctively to hold onto Ezra’s arm and you practically glue yourself to his side for support.

“You will not fall, Sunflower,” he reassures and you feel him lean closer into you to comfort you.

“Pardon me,” you giggle, feeling steady enough now to remove yourself from him. You take a deep breath and look out ahead at the river and the grassland, spotting the other farms in the distance. “Wow,” you say breathlessly. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

“Yes, it is,” Ezra responds softly. You turn your head to him where you already meet his gaze and turn away again as you smile.

“Oh no,” you gasp as your eyes meet your bag down below. “I left the book… And the apples,” you turn to frown at Ezra.

“Do not fret, Sunflower,” he smiles. “I enjoy your company regardless.”

“Maybe...you could read me more of your prose?” You prod gently, hoping he will be willing.

“Yes,” he says wistfully as he glances down at his journal. “I do like when you read to me, however.”

You smile as he passes his journal to you and you cradle it with care in your hands. You move to open it and the binding opens automatically to one page, clearly still stiff from where he had it open, this addition to the pages only written just recently. You clear your throat and let your eyes dance as they pick up the words in his neat handwriting.

“‘A being from a different universe desires to live amongst the men in peace on Earth, for his purpose to be written in the stars. A nomad, an outcast on the run, desperate for a residence more suitable than his dreams. Soon, he will find home, and soon, he will find life’,” your voice trails towards the end of the passage, your heart wrenching at the meaning behind it.

“Ezra…” You call softly once you notice his head has lowered.

The silence stretches and you can almost visualize it expanding across the lands in front of your view, any helpful or comforting words escaping from your reach. The only conclusion your mind seems to come to is just to place a hand softly on his thigh. You feel his muscle twitch at the contact and he glances over at you, a light tint of pink beginning to spread across his cheeks.

You suddenly feel embarrassed to have placed your hand there and you immediately think to yourself that perhaps it was not welcomed, though before you can remove your hand, Ezra places his own, large and warm, over yours. Your mind settles while your heart beats rapidly. You still do not know what to say, but it does not seem Ezra is expecting for you to say anything at all.

“I’ve missed you at supper, Ezra,” you whisper and grin softly.

“Forgive me for my absence, I was not… I did not feel…” You sense him struggling as he lowers his head again and you place your other hand on top of your intertwined ones.

“I understand; you have no need to apologize.”

He looks at you again and you give him a reassuring smile and he returns the gesture. You two say nothing and let the comfortable silence blanket the air around you while you gaze out to your surroundings again, your hands not leaving each other’s grasp.

“Sunflower?” He calls and you turn to face him again.

“Yes, Ezra?”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

Series || Main || Taglist || AO3

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @amandalovess @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @pedro4ever @mishasminion360 @wardenparker @librariantothejedi @fan-of-encouragement @javierpinme @writeforfandoms @ew-erin @you-got-me-starry-eyed @beskarboobs @andiesturgss @maryfanson @princessxkenobi @castleamc @magpie-to-the-morning @pbeatriz @radiowallet @stevie75 @honestly-shite @bison-writes @amneris21 @disgruntledspacedad

Ezra Prospect Tags: @quietpainter @grogusmum @tenderwhat

[mccoymccoymccoy]

Kirk - Go to your quarters or I’ll pick you up and carry you there.

A/N: I KNOW. I KNOW THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE OPPOSITE CONTEXT FROM WHEN HE SAID THAT. BUT WHEN HE SAID IT WE ALL GOT A TINGLE, NO? oh well. silly little brain.

Word count: 1,531

God, you were tired. Finally a calm day on the bridge- no engine repairs needed, no hostile encounters, no pointless orders from Starfleet- and yet it felt like the longest day since your shore leave on a planet with twenty hours of sun. Your nose was red and sore from patting at it with your sleeve, and you had a headache like what you imagined being struck by an ice pick would feel like.

“All in order, cap-” you paused, face contorting into the classic pre-sneeze expression. Oh, go away, go away, go away! Miraculously, it did. “-tain,” you finished, rubbing the side of your finger against your nose. He turned around and raised an eyebrow at you. “Lieutenant, it seems like you’ve still got a bit of that cold left. Didn’t Bones order you to take three days off? As long as I can still count, it’s only been two days.” Spock, who was walking past, nodded. “You can indeed still count, captain.” You sighed.

“Sir, with all due respect, a little almost-sneeze isn’t anything to worry about. I believe I’m perfectly able to perform my duties,” you lied.

He put one hand on his hip while the other pinched his forehead, and sighed right back at you. “Y/N, we don’t know how this cold- this virus, works. You heard what Bones said, it’s not like the old common Earth cold. You got hit the worst out of the landing party.” He may be a walking bullshit detector, but his reasoning was a void attempt to you.

You saw your duties as more important than anything, which he normally had incredible respect for, but you’d already lost out on two days. Two days, just kicking around your quarters and sneaking around your deck trying to find something to do. Somehow, every time, Bones or an ensign found you and had to bring you back. Mimicking him, you placed your hands on your hips and shifted your weight to one foot. You were starting to feel a bit light-headed, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the cold or him.

“Come on, Y/N.”

You looked down. His insisting this was really starting to make you nervous- not just because of the prospect of missing out on work. You were so fond of him that surely the rate of your heart and the anxious sweating would just make him more firm in his decision that you were unfit to work! Thinking about him made your headache worse than it already was, too. “Captain, please. I’m alright.” Your nose twitched another sneeze away.

“No more arguing, lieutenant. You’re off for the rest of today and tomorrow. That’s an order. Go.”

“Sir, please-”

“Go to your quarters or I’ll pick you up and carry you there.”

You froze. Your face flushed at the thought, and the pressure you’d been adding to your one leg became too much, causing a little stumble. Jim grabbed onto your arms quickly, steadying you. You started to explain about the pressure, but he shook his head. “Spock, you’ve got the bridge. Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you outta here,” he said before sweeping you off your feet into a bridal carry.

Captain Kirk, Captain James T. Kirk, was carrying you back to your own goddamn quarters. You pressed the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his neck against your face to cover your blush- What was his deal! “Captain, if you’re that concerned about my health, perhaps you wouldn’t want to be, well, this close to me? Please, put me down.” He looked down at you, brows furrowed. “It’s not a cold transmitted by contact, Lieutenant,” you sighed a little at him using your official title while carrying you like this. “Doctor McCoy explained that to you already. You’re tired, you almost collapsed on the Bridge, you need to get some sleep and rest. I won’t say it again.”

“But-” He softly stroked your shoulder with his thumb, and it shut you up immediately.

“That’s all I gotta do to quiet you down?” It had clicked for him just a few seconds prior that you weren’t acting strangely just because you were sick. He smiled down at you- something you’d usually expect to be snarky from anyone else after the last comment, but not from him. You knew your face must be redder than your shirt by now, and without thinking, you pressed into his chest to try to hide it. You felt his next chuckle more than you heard it.

You stayed like that for a few moments more until he made it to your door, inside, and to your bed, where he put you down gently. You sat up immediately, and he smiled again.

“Give it up, Lieutenant. I wouldn’t want to have to confine you to your quarters.” You frowned. “Captain, nothing is more important to me than my work. I’ve just got a headache and a tickly nose, at least clear me for tomorrow!” Your head pounded at the effort of raising your voice and you cringed in pain. Jim frowned now too, reaching out and then sitting down beside you. He thought for a moment, while you looked down with your hands in your lap.

“You know, Lieut- Y/N, you know, you’d be no good at your tasks right now anyway.” You laughed quietly. “Gee, thanks, Cap.” You watched as his hand found its way into your lap and between your clammy ones, fingers lacing with yours. He was looking at you, but your own eyes were glued to your lap. His next words were spoken so softly, you could hardly believe this was the same man who’d yelled at you earlier to take a rest.

“That didn’t quite come out how I meant. I meant, you’re an incredible officer who does incredible work here, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to dampen that record because you don’t know how to relax when you need to.”

“This isn’t relaxing,” you sighed. His other hand reached up to cup your cheek, turning your face so you’d look at him. And you did- oh, how you did. How lovely it was to look at him up close, to look so deeply into his eyes you thought you’d never be able to escape. You always tried to avoid eye contact with him, and contact in general- which had always proved difficult. He was always asking you to join the landing party, and then dinner after, and a game in the rec room, and a gym session- you always tagged along, feeling like a pity case and wondering why he’d have you there. It had never once occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way about you as you did him.

“I know. Maybe I could help that?” His eyes flickered to your lips for a moment, then back up. You looked down, leaning into his hand on your cheek and finally beginning to grasp the one in your lap rather than just letting it be there. “Maybe,” you said, barely above a whisper. He closed in, slowly at first, then quickly- he kissed you sweetly, and to say you melted inside would be an understatement. You moved one hand to touch the edge of his jaw ever so gently and felt him smile. He pulled away from you a bit, but stayed close, resting his forehead against yours.

“You sure you won’t catch this cold, Jim?” You smiled, and kept your eyes closed. You felt his breath against your cheek as he chuckled before responding: “So now we’re on a first name basis, I see?” You sat up abruptly, the brain fog hadn’t allowed you to interpret that as a joke. “If we aren’t sir, my sincerest apologies, I just-”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and kissed you again. Shorter this time, but not exactly a peck. You blinked at him, and he grinned.

“I was teasing.”

“Ah. Of course. Maybe I really do need some rest.” His eyes suddenly lit up, almost in a comical lightbulb-moment way. “Why don’t I stay with you a bit longer? You know, make sure you actually stay put and all.” You smiled and looked at the floor once again, but not before picking up on a slight blush from him. He truly was a sweetheart. You nodded, humming. “That would be nice, I think. What about the bridge though?”

“Spock will have it under control for as long as needed,” he responded while laying the two of you down. You wrapped an arm around his waist and cuddled into his shoulder, despite still thinking it’s completely inappropriate for you to do this with the captain- but he doesn’t seem concerned at all. Your tiredness had caught up with you once you finally allowed yourself to relax- you let out a loud yawn, and couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. “Try to sleep now, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Jim,” you mumbled as you started to drift off. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head, and you could feel him smiling again before your mind finally went quiet.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛  Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit. 

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.” 

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

--

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time. 

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle. 

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips. 

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation. 

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

--

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade. 

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

[ghostdrew22]

I’ll Always Wait For You || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: ridiculous crap I make up for plot purposes, allusions to sex, idk crime-committing? Summary: Draco and Y/N pursue a life of crime together and what starts as an odd, professional partnership turns into a perfect romance- loosely based on Bonnie & Clyde.

WORDS : 2451

~~~

You walk into the Malfoy Manor’s ballroom with determination and a convincing smile of excitement. You know what a risk you’re taking by coming into their home under false pretenses but it’s the only way you’ll be able to get what you want and leave remotely unnoticed.

You catch a glimpse of the blonde who the ball is being thrown for and flash him a smile before immediately turning away from him and walking toward the bar. You know that he doesn’t know you, and that in retrospect it’s quite idiotic to even think that he’d notice at all when he has no idea who you are, but it’s worth a try for your plan to succeed.

You are a year older than him, and while he’d gone to Hogwarts, you were studying at Drumstrang throughout your school career. You didn’t come across each other often in your youth because your families didn’t run in the same circles- your parents were snobby, upper-middle class purebloods who looked down on muggles and death eaters alike, which meant you’d had a very minimal role in the events leading up to the wizarding war and hadn’t known much of the Malfoy’s growing up other than the snippets of information you came across in newspapers or social events.

But they’d recently caught your eye when it had come out that they possessed the ‘Diadem of Thule’- a powerful wizarding artifact that has limitless cloaking and transfiguration abilities, as well as the power to amplify a wizard’s magic- and kept it safely in a vault deep within their home that’s protected by blood magic. It’s the perfect weapon for what you want to accomplish and you’ve come here tonight to get it.

“I’ve never seen you before.” A voice behind you booms and you turn to face it with a small smile- it’s the blond Malfoy heir himself.

“Probably because I’ve never been.”

“Funny and beautiful?” He raises his eyebrows playfully at you, “Still doesn’t explain how you got in.”

You see that the banter-like tone and expression on his face haven’t disappeared so you decide to continue, “Oh but why reveal all my secrets when you’ve got the entire night to fall in love with me?”

“Fall in love with you?” He chuckles heartily and you bite your lip cheekily.

“I mean, that’s what these are for, right?” You raise your eyebrows in questioning- referring to the purpose of the balls.

He shakes his head with a laugh, “You’ve got me there.” He walks past you and toward the bar where he asks the bartender for something and comes back with two small shot glasses.

“For me?” You ask with a smile and he nods with a smirk.

“Let’s make a toast.”

“To?”

“To never attending another one of these ever again.” He chuckles and you furrow your eyebrows.

“And why’s that?”

“According to you, I won’t need to keep looking for a girl any longer.”

“Then cheers to that!” You exclaim with a laugh and knock your shot glass into his before downing the liquid with a grimace.

~~~

“Are you done? They’re coming.” You whisper back to your partner.

“Don’t rush me.” Draco grits back and you roll your eyes.

“Sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of being ambushed by muggle police officers and aurors.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know none of that will be happening today.” He replies as he makes his way over to you and kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry for being so aggressive there, you know how I get under pressure.”

Annoying? You almost ask but bite your lip and shake your head instead while giving him a smile, “All good baby.”

“Great. Now let’s get this,” He holds up the bag of money that he just filled up, “Somewhere safe.”

“Ready when you are.” You smirk and he chuckles while pulling out the diadem and handing it to you. He takes your hand and interlocks your fingers as he starts to countdown.  “3.”

“2.” You continue.

“1.” He finishes as the sound of sirens outside of the bank erupts into the atmosphere. You grin at him and quickly whisper the counter-curse that you’d cast on the bank’s patrons to lull them asleep while you and Draco got busy- slowly they all start to regain consciousness in confusion as they each notice the two, masked figures standing before them.

You’re about to apparate the two of you out, when suddenly none other than Harry fucking Potter and his crew of fellow aurors barge into the bank’s foyer with their wands out. Before you can whisper out the words to save yourselves, Harry casts a hex that lands on Draco and renders him incapable of apparating out.

“Get out. Now.” Draco says immediately, not even bothering to face you and instead unhooking your fingers to hand you the bag.

A wave of panic encompasses you for a moment, almost as if you’ve forgotten the plan that the two of you have in place for situations like this, but it’s gone as quick as it came and you grab the bag of money out of Draco’s hands before apparating yourself out.

“Fuck!” You exclaim once you’re back in the little cottage that the two of you have in the countryside.

After that night at the Manor, eight months ago, you and Draco grew quite close. That’s if your idea of close is accidentally falling in love with your literal partner in crime. Your plan to sleep with him, swipe a dollop of his blood somehow and sneak down into the family vault the next morning to get the Diadem had failed dismally. He woke up right as you were getting dressed and told you that he knew who you were and what you were upto; Y/N L/N, the notorious bank robber that had been terrorizing London only nights before. And in some weird twist of fate, he told you that he wanted to join you.

His interest in you had only peaked when the newspapers started to gossip about a witch/wizard who was rampaging London stealing absurd amounts of cash from Muggle Banks, he couldn’t deny the flare of envy that had shot up within him at the prospect of not being the one with the genius idea. So he did what he did best; he plotted a scheme to lure you into his home so that he could propose a partnership, knowing that someone of your caliber wouldn’t be able to resist an artifact that made your magic traceless, knowing that you’d salivate at the prospect of no longer needing to live life on the run.

You refused at first, claiming that you were a solo act and he didn’t have anything to offer besides a family heirloom that you could bloody well do without considering how far you’d made it without the diadem. But he somehow convinced you, danced around your thoughts with his words and backed you up against a metaphorical wall that left you with no choice but to accept. You’d hated working with him for the first two months, the initial four robberies being horrible and close calls, but then slowly the two of you found a rhythm, a system to work together, and soon enough partners became friends and friends bubbled into lovers. Eventually he wore you down enough for you to want to run off to the countryside with him.

“Cocky bastard.” You mumble out loud with a sigh, “I should let him stay there for his stupidity.”

You laugh at the thought of Draco Malfoy being left in Harry Potter’s custody and eventually transferred into Azkaban- facing the same fate that his parents did but for a crime of much smaller cost. He would hate it. And he’d probably find a way out just to kill you for abandoning him. Yeah, leaving him there is not an option.

~~~

“Harry Potter chasing after a wizard who robs banks? You’re truly running after small dice now- talk about a downgrade from defeating the Dark Lord.”

“So I take it you’re not going to tell me who you’re working with?” Harry asks from across the interrogation table- glaring daggers into the Malfoy’s blue eyes.

“How is this confusing for you? I said, no.”

“Is it Y/N L/N? We haven’t been able to trace the magic left at the scenes back to it’s owner for a few months now, we thought that she’d gone dark and you were a copycat.” Draco scoffs at the accusation- despite the fact that he never would’ve been able to concoct the idea on his own anyway- “But maybe she’s just working with you.”

“Didn’t mummy ever tell you that no means no?” Draco furrows his eyebrows in mock sympathy, “Pestering me about the issue in order to get a yes? Sounds a bit like coercion.”

“Don’t act like I’m trying to get in your pants.” Harry rolls his eyes- having forgotten how mockingly flirtatious Draco gets when cornered.

“I never even implied that.” Draco shrugs. “But if this is how you do it then I’m concerned.”

“I’m bloody married, I don’t need to get in people’s pants.”

“Married huh? How’d you manage that?” Draco asks with a chuckle, “Show her the ring everyday until she finally decided to just marry you?”

“I didn’t coerce Ginny into marrying me.”

“That’s what he said.” Draco sing-songs in a mocking tune before licking his lips and shutting them for a moment. He looks back up suddenly with a thought, “Maybe I should give Ginny a ring and ask her.” Draco smirks mischievously and Harry grimaces at the sight.

“Fuck you, Malfoy.”

“Oh, I bet you wish you could.” Draco smirks and Harry feels himself slightly flush but clears his throat.

“This is way off base.”

“Indeed. Just wanted to catch up before we part ways.”

“Part ways?” Harry asks with a laugh, “We’re not parting ways for another few months, I’m the working officer on this case so you ought to get used to me.”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re awfully calm for someone that’s about to join his parents in Azkaban.”

Draco flinches, ever so slightly, at the mention of his parents and Azkaban, but recovers quickly and turns his head to the wall on his left- focusing very intently on it.

“Why are you looking at that wall?”

“No reason.”

“No reason?” Harry furrows his eyebrows before realization dawns on him, “Malfoy are you waiting for somethi-“

Before Harry can finish his sentence the wall has been knocked down and you’ve grabbed Draco to uncuff him from the table. “Thanks for watching him.” You say with a smile as you clasp your hand with Draco’s and apparate the two of you to the car that you’d left waiting a few streets away.

“What took you so bloody long?” He mumbles as he climbs into the car.

“I was giving you time to flirt with your old crush - you know, fulfill your schoolboy fantasies.” You reply with a smirk and he groans.

“I told you one thing!”

“I’m sorry love, I had to make at least one joke!” You exclaim back while laughing and he rolls his eyes but smiles at the sight of you.

“I missed you.”

You roll your eyes at his sentiment but smile as well, “It wasn’t even that long.”

“Any moment I’m away from you feels like forever.” He grins.

“Oh, how did you survive!” You ask mockingly and laugh- reaching over to give him a kiss on the lips finally. He melts against the feel of your lips against his own- the only reminder he has that you’re his, and he’s happy, and the two of you will always be together. You’re his only reprieve from the constant agony of being alive, from the anger at his parents that sits and wells up in his heart.

A life of crime was not what Draco imagined himself pursuing, not in the slightest, but he’d do anything to spend his life with you. The money, the cars, the houses, the fame- none of it fills him up the way that you do, just by living and breathing on planet earth. “Easy. I waited for you.”

“What?” You ask- having forgotten what you two were talking about before the kiss.

“I survived because I knew you were coming. I waited for you.”

“And what if I didn’t?” You raise your eyebrows- even though you know that you wouldn’t even dream of living without him.

“I still would’ve waited.” He smiles and kisses you again, “I’ll always wait for you.”

“I told you that you’d fall in love with me.” You say with a smirk as you turn to start the car and drive off to your next destination.

<~>

Draco would genuinely start a life of crime to spite his reputation and you can’t convince me otherwise. I sort of feel like I half-assed this one just so I could get it done but at the same time I do really like it.

Anyway, love you all

jean <3

[enchantedblackrose]

All the Pieces Pt 2

Sirius Black/Fem Reader

Warnings: light swearing, kinda long, unedited. I broke canon and will probably continue to do so in other parts now?

Part 1|| Part 3|| Part 4|| Part 5

Part 2 of ?

No more secrets from you I would lose to love you And I have never felt so Like a man that's been set free I can spread my arms now - Pieces, Dan Powell

Your questions wait longer still as you watch Sirius step hesitantly into your living room. It's not completely conscious, but you can't stop looking at him. He's so skinny and looks defeated, but then that fresh morning sunlight dances across his face. For a second you see glimpses of the boy you knew years ago.

Sirius clears his throat. The sudden noise startles you and you nearly jump.

"Shower!" You yell, though you're not sure why it comes out as a shouted demand.

"'m sorry, what?"

"I mean, you must want a hot shower?" 

Disbelief creeps onto his face. "I would love a hot shower so don't take this wrong, but you must have a hundred questions for me?"

"A thousand actually," you smile, "but they can wait."

Your compassion causes a warmth to fill Sirius that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your presence. He nods his gratitude, not trusting himself to speak. 

You direct him to the top of the stairs and inform him of the fresh towels in the linen closet and the second bedroom he may use. Before he closes the bathroom door, you tell him you'll see if you can scrounge up any other clothes for him.

"And then if you want," you say, "we can set those damned robes on fire." Sirius laughs as you walk away.

Never being one able to throw anything away, you know for certain you have some old clothing belonging to Sirius. Not trusting the old rickety steps of the pull down ladder, you apparate to the attic. 

"Lumos." The tip of your wand illuminates enough of the storage space that you easily find the light fixture and gently pull on the chain. You put out your wand.

Immediately you spot the desired trunk and the sight of it causes you to draw a sharp breath. Your habit of saving everything while at times like this is beneficial, it often brings you some pain. You sit in front of the trunk, opening it slowly.

Photos and a small midnight blue velvet jewelry box sit on the very top. You pick them up and hesitate before setting them aside. 

Next you pull out a large leather jacket, followed by men's pants, several shirts, including tees with the face of David Bowie, another with the Stones, and even one with ABBA. You throw your head back in laughter; you really do keep anything and everything, but this is why. Even these mundane items hold precious memories.

You set the clothes beside you and thumb through the photos: Sirius kissing you on the cheek, Sirius kissing James on the cheek, you and a very pregnant Lily at her baby shower, you and Remus laughing with a pink haired, confused Sirius in the background, Peter attempting to rollerblade, Sirius in his dog form, the marauders near the Whomping Willow at school, you and Sirius slow dancing at James and Lily's wedding. You sigh before gently placing them back in the trunk. You pick up the little box, the delicate fabric still plush and smooth in your hand. But you decide to return it to the trunk without opening  it. 

Sirius should be getting out of the shower soon and you want the clothes ready for him when he is. You turn off the light before disapparating to the guest bedroom. The clothes were well preserved and a few incantations later they are freshly laundered. You leave them at the end of the bed.

You retreat to the kitchen to prepare brunch. The food is mostly done when from above you hear the water stop, squeaks of doors opening and shutting, the creaking of floorboards and then Sirius barking a hearty laugh. You smile to yourself.

"You always were a pack rat," he says, appearing after a minute. You see he opted not to wear any of the muggle musician shirts, but instead he's in a solid black t-shirt and dark jeans. Both hang loosely on his thin frame. You say nothing about his playful quip, mostly because it's true. You indicate for him to sit in one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "That said where's your engagement ring?"

Your heart sinks as you think to that blue box upstairs.

"Sirius," you warn, your voice low.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. Though you not wearing it was the second thing I noticed about you." He offers a smile, but you don't relent, refusing to dive into this conversation when there's still so many answers he owes. Seeing your hardened expression, he holds his hands up signaling he still means no offense.

You sigh. "What was the first thing?"

His grin widens into a full smile. "Your eyes of course. They're just as I remember. Beautiful,  full of goodness and emotions. I could always tell what you were feeling."

Despite yourself, you feel heat rise to your cheeks, blushing over Sirius Black's words like you were still a schoolgirl. It's mortifying to adult you and you take a large sip of orange juice to avoid eye contact.

Sirius smirks slightly, but begins to eat. The array of food mimics a small buffet: chocolate chip muffins, pancakes, bacon, toast, oatmeal and scrambled eggs. A glass pitcher with orange juice sits beside jams and butter.

Sirius takes more than a bit of everything. A mostly comfortable silence falls over the table as two of you eat. Even when you have finished, you refuse to bombard Sirius with questions, allowing him to enjoy the meal.

Finally, getting his fill, he peers at you across the table. It's finally time for you to learn the truth.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," you reply without missing a beat. And so Sirius starts with Peter's betrayal ("literal filthy rat! How could he?" you cry) and ends with knocking at your door.

Your eyebrows furrow. Sirius told you his story and you're still left with questions.

"What's on your mind?" He asks knowingly.

"How did you know where I was? Remus stays here once in a while, did you know that? What's Harry like? Merlin, Peter escaped? He's out there free and you're...do you think he knows where You Know Who is?" You rapid fire questions without thought or pause, but Sirius chuckles.

"I can only answer one at a time, darling. Slow down. Breathe, maybe. I'll answer them all." He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly. "Dumbledore came to that tower where I was held and told me, in his way, that I may have a friend here. That he would send an owl to that friend explaining my innocence. Remus and I had little chance to chat dealing with that treacherous rat, and Snape," he sneers "and the full moon, of course. But I am glad to know you and Remus maintained your friendship," he pauses as if wanting to say more, but thinks better of it. 

Both a sad and happy smile plays on his lips as he answers your next question. "Harry is a carbon copy of James, with the same knack for trouble, though he has Lily's eyes. I'm hoping he has her common sense, too. He's got a good head on his shoulders and the right sorts of friends surround him." Sirius's expression goes dark. "Peter will go wherever he thinks he'll be protected. Voldemort is out there, and I'm willing to bet Peter will do anything to get to him."

Another silence falls over the two of you and you shudder at the prospect of Voldemort returning.

"I'm sorry if I asked too many questions," you finally say after a long moment.

"You didn't."

"You're welcome to stay here. For as long as you need."

"I'd like to. I'm not sure how long, but a couple nights at least if it's no trouble."

"It's no trouble. Er, does your hippogriff need anything?"

"Buckbeak? Nah. There's plenty for him to hunt and he's free to roam a bit, right? I'll introduce you two later."

You laugh. "I'll show you to your room. You must be exhausted."

He catches your wrist before you walk away. His touch makes you feel as though you're on fire. You ignore the sensation and look Sirius in the eye as he speaks. "Thank you. Your kindness is truly unmatched, y/n. Always has been." You don't know how to respond. As if on cue, he yawns and then frowns. "I haven't asked anything about you."

"There will be time for that later. C'mon." You smile reassuringly but mentally you're thankful to prolong any more heavy conversations.

Sirius follows you up the stairs into the bedroom. Your eyes scan the room and you frown. The pale green wallpaper accented with tiny pink rosebuds and the bed donned with oversized blankets and half a dozen throw pillows is a stark contrast to Sirius. You mumble something about not being able to redecorate this room just yet. But Sirius just smiles. You draw the curtains shut in an attempt to block the midday sunlight.

"I think you should have everything you need? Of course help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I'll head to town to get some things."

His face is solemn. "Y/n, stay with me?" He clears his throat. "I mean...will you. Please?"

Wordlessly you nod. You let him climb into the queen sized bed first. Once he's settled, you get in, laying next to him. He moves you closer. Your head rests on his shoulder. He breathes in your scent as his arms wrap loosely around you. You drape an arm across his chest, assuring him his touch is welcomed. His grip tightens slightly as his breathing slows. You watch the rising and fall of his chest until your eyelids flutter shut.

Light tapping on your front door pulls you out of your dreams. Confusion hits first as you're heavy with the weight of a man's arms around you. Sirius. You smile as you become more awake, remembering the moments just hours ago. The knocking grows louder. Urgent, even. Panic sets in.

You shake Sirius awake. He bolts upright in bed, his breathing labored. You place a hand on his chest to calm him. For the moment at least. "Someone's at the door." You tell him in a harsh whisper . Sirius's eyes widen. "Transform," you urge. "And for Merlin's sake stay here." He wants to argue, but knows you're right. You wait until he becomes a large black furry mass of a dog. You close the bedroom door behind you, earning a low whine from Sirius in the process. You hurry down the stairs, clutching your wand in your dominant hand. Fear courses through your veins. You feel your heartbeat quicken with each step.

Drawing a deep breath, you swing the front door open.  The sight nearly stops your heart.

"Finally y/n. Is he here?"

Taglist: @oingo233

[maggyme13]

The Alpha next door (6/?)

AN: Sooo, again a shorter chapter, I apologize but atm I struggle with this story. I know what I want to happen but I cant write it...

Warnings: I don't think so, maybe a bit angst

Wordcount: around 1.3k

TAND-Masterlist

Masterlist

Part 5

She had been lucky enough to find some fitting clothes in Charming: A summer dress, some shorts for beneath, and a pair of roman sandals. “Can you grab the box on the kitchen table for me and place it in my car, please? I need to finish getting ready.”, Millie called out from her bathroom. “Sure. Anything else?”, Happy answered from the kitchen. “Nothing. I am almost done as well. Are you sure that it is enough that I bring just some muffins for dessert?” “Yeah. Told you there is no need for you to bring anything.” “I know. I just want to make a good impression. They are your pack.”, she sighed. “And you are my Omega.” “Yeah.”, she smiled to herself while finishing her makeup. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.

“So we meet again.”, the woman Millie knew to be Gemma Teller-Morrow greeted her at the door. “Hello, Ma´m. A pleasure to meet you again.”, she answered anxiously. “No need for these formalities. You are one of us know. Call me Gemma.” “Millie. I brought some Blueberry-Muffins I made. Hope that was okay.”, she fiddled with her hands. “Of course. I hope Happy told you that you did not need to bring anything. You are our guest tonight.”, the older woman answered. “He did mention it a few times. But I like to bake, so it was no big deal.” “Well, come in. I will show you to the kitchen and where you can put your muffins.” “Thank you..”, Millie hummed and followed her inside. Multiple unknown scents attacked her the second she stepped through the door and she was at the edge of being overwhelmed. Luckily the scents of Chibs and Tig were able to catch her animals' attention and it calmed down enough for her not to be in a flight response. “You can place them over there.”, Gemma nodded to the countertop in the center of the kitchen. “Will do, Gemma.” “So tell me. How did the two of you meet?”, she asked nonchalantly. “I-uhm- we are neighbors.” “I already knew that, Honey. But how did you meet as Alpha and Omega? Happy is not the kind of Alpha that goes after Omegas.” “He saved me from another Alpha. It went from there.”, the younger Omega explained, not wanting to give too much information. “Wha-” “Gemma. Everyone is seated. We are only waiting for the two of you.”, another Omega saved Millie from a deeper questioning. “On our way Tara. Be a dear and help us carry these plates, would you?” “Sure.”, the newly arrived Omega rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”, Gemma answered with a sinister sweet smile,” Please go ahead we are right behind you.” “Fine.” “That room we enter is filled with Alphas, as you already can smell. Please do not make Happy hurt any of them. Blood is hard to get out of the Carpets and hardwood floor. The Croweaters won´t be happy about that either, not they are very fond of you for taking him away from them.” “I- I will try my best.”, Millie answered unsurely. “Good. Now let´s get this last bit of food to the hungry Wolves.” The whole dinner was tense, even though she was seated between Happy and Tig, their scents trying to fight off her unknown ones. And she was glad when the Men went into the adjoined living room after dinner, leaving the women to put the leftovers into Tupperware, and the prospects to clean the table. “The muffins can be reheated. I usually serve them with either chocolate sauce or powdered sugar.”, she explained. “I will heat the oven, ten minutes?”, “Yes. “ “If they taste as good as they smell be prepared to make them a lot. These men are acting and looking tough, but they love sweets just as much as any little boy.” “Who are you calling a little boy, Ma?”, the voice of the VP called from behind them. “You and the rest of the trouble makers in that room, son. What do you need?” “We have to leave for a bit. I want Tara and the boys to stay here. Millie, Hap will probably speak to you himself, but you can stay here or at the clubhouse if you want.” “Thank you?”, Milli answered shyly, “Guess I will talk to Happy then.” “We should be back in the morning. Are you okay staying here?”, Her Alpha explained, taking in any little reaction of the Omega in front of him. “I guess.”, she mumbled, sad her work would end up in the bin. “What is bothering you then?” “The muffins will go bad. They can be reheated only one time.”, she explained with a sigh, “You don´t want to happen to take one for the ride?” “You don´t need to ask twice. OPE, TIG, JUICE, get your asses in here or I will eat every single muffin myself!”, he chuckled and called out. Within seconds the baked goods were gone and the men left. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--. A gentle knock pulled her out of the short sleep she had managed to fall into in the early morning hours. “Jgrmgh”, she groaned into the pillow. “Ms. Millie? The Breakfast is ready in a few. And the others called, they should be back in three

hours at most.”, the Prospect V-Lin called through the door. “Mrph.” With tiredness burning eyes she followed the scent of freshly made coffee, eggs, bacon, and buns. “Good morning, Millie. Take a seat. What do you want to drink?”, Gemma greeted her with a warm motherly smile. “Just a tea, please. Thank you.” “It will get easier in the future.”, Tara tried to assure her seeing her state, “Jax left me a t-shirt of his for the first few times. But it will never be like a normal day.” “Oh. I – I will speak to him. Thank you for the tip.” “Nonsense. Us Omegas and women of the club have to stick together. We are a pack. A pack that takes care of each other. If you ever need anything give me a call.” “I will remember that.” The three women ate breakfast without many conversations with each other, only interacting with the two little boys. Just as the kitchen had been cleaned up, the front door opened and the voices of two little boys screaming “Dada” reached the adults. “Hello, Ma. V-Lin, Hap wants you to take Millie to her house and stay until he comes over.”, the blond man greeted the other women before kissing his Omega. “I will get my things then.” .--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..-.-..-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“You can take a seat in my kitchen if you want. Or on the porch.”, Millie offered the Prospect, “Do you want a coffee?” “I am fine. Thank you Ms.”, the prospect hummed, “I will take a seat on the porch until Happy arrives.” “Suit yourself. The machine is over there if you change your mind.” “Thank you Ms.”, the Beta stated again and took his seat on the porch, “I am sure it won´t take long for him to come over.” But he wouldn´t. It was almost dinner time and Happy still had not been there to see her and she began to worry. She believed Jax would have said something if he had been hurt, so why wasn´t he coming? Was it something she did? Had she done something during the dinner? “V-Lin. I want to prepare something for dinner, do you want something?”, She called out off the front door, tired of waiting and needing to distract herself. “He doesn´t. He will return to the clubhouse.”, Happy´s voice answered for him. Hearing his voice, her animal was both pleased and angry. Pleased that her Alpha had finally returned and angry that it took him so long. “You are back.”, she answered stepping aside to let him enter, which he happily did.

Part 7

AN: Thank you for reading :)

REBLOGS and comments are appreciated:)

~MaggY

Taglists:

Permanent

:@jadepc @pacifyhxlsey @thankyoukarenclifford @thankyouforanonymity @punkrockhufflefluff @scarletraine @buckycaptspideypool @markusstraya @graveyard-groupie @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil @marshyrebelcloud

Alpha next door:

@wiccanmetallicrose @gloriousqueenjellyfish @peterfrauchen @anni1607 @alexakeyloveloki

[yehet-about-it]

Chase Me | Part 17 - Lock The Door Next Time

⇐ || ☆ Masterlist ☆ || ⇒

🎮👾 ~ The Boyz Social Media AU ~ 👾🎮

"Twitching" is a British term used to mean "the pursuit of a previously located rare bird." In North America it is more often called chasing...

Pairings: Changmin x Reader, Sunwoo x Reader

Warnings: 17+, language, some smut in later chapters, fuckboy!sunwoo 😉

Updates Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday & Sunday @ 9pm GMT/1pm PST

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Word Count: 3.1k (I am SO sorry... although I'm kind of not bc I lowkey love this chapter) Warnings: Mature content, may involve maStUrBaTioN, a whole lot of embarrassment and Chanhee having the time of his goddamn life bc its not him in the awkward situation for once 🙃

You sighed, dropping your unreasonably heavy camera bag on the table as you walked into the living room, Chanhee in close pursuit looking equally as tired. You’d spent several long hours at a shoot for a new project you’d been hired to do and had come back to the boys’ apartment to do some editing before you called it quits for the day.

“Should we order food now?” You called out as Chanhee went to his room to unload his gear and fetch his macbook for editing. You knew you needed to work but you hadn’t eaten since the morning and you couldn’t stop the thoughts of takeout food swirling around in your head. “Mm, the Chinese?” Chanhee replied sitting down across the table. “Can you go and ask Changmin if he wants anything while I set this up? He’s probably in his room.”

You nodded happily, perking up at the prospect of food and left Chanhee to upload the photos from the day whilst you went off in search of Changmin. He wasn’t in their gaming room as you walked by so you continued down the corridor towards his room. As you neared his door you could hear a murmur, and coming to a stop outside the room you recognised your name being called by Changmin, only it was ever so quiet, barely audible through the wood of the door, so you figured maybe it was just him registering your presence. Assuming he’d realised you were there, you swung the door open not quite expecting the scene that was presented before you. Changmin was sat on his bed, propped up against the pillows with his lips parted, hair hanging low in front of his eyes, and scanning further down you saw that his sweatpants were bunched low on his hips as his hand gripped what appeared to be a very hard erection. You let out a shriek as you realised what you had stumbled upon, immediately slamming the door back shut and racing down the corridor before Changmin even had chance to react.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” You repeated it like a mantra, your heart pounding from the shock as you slid back into the living room and into your chair opposite New. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Chanhee asked in bewilderment looking at you as though you’d just committed the 7 deadly sins. “I should have knocked!” you squeaked burying your face in your palms in total, unfathomed embarrassment. You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself, but the image of Changmin’s hand wrapped snugly around his length, pleasuring himself as he uttered your name was well and truly burned into your brain.

“What? Why?” Chanhee asked, a puzzled expression forming from his features. “He- oh my word- he was- touchi- Ugh I can’t say it!” you whined. “He wasn’t…? Oh my god...” Eventually realising what had happened, a hysterical fit of laughter erupted from your best friends throat as you hid behind your hands, your cheeks most definitely flushed with the brightest pink. “Oh my god that idiot” Chanhee cackled, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes from the sheer force of his laughter. You sank down in your chair a pained smile on your face as you couldn’t help but be affected by Chanhee’s reaction. “Chanhee what am I gonna do? I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again!” You wailed, the howling starting to dye down as Chanhee regained his composure. “Not my problem” Chanhee teased. “I’ll make it your problem” you replied stroppily, whacking him lightly on the arm in annoyance. “Ow!” Chanhee clutched his arm in feigned pain before proceeding to laugh at you once again. “It’s not funny Chanhee! This is so awkward!”

You had by now gotten over the initial shock of seeing one of your longest friends exposed like that, and now you were wondering how the hell you were gonna get over the awkwardness of the situation. But most of all, you were wondering why the hell he’d been moaning your name of all names and what that meant. Not that you were going to mention that to New. That would open a whole new can of worms and lead this conversation down a whole new road that you didn’t particularly want to explore, as well as give Chanhee even more ammunition for further teasing.

“That’s exactly why it IS funny.” Chanhee chided, whipping his phone out, presumably either to tease Changmin or get the Chinese menu up, or both. “Guess he won’t be joining us for the Chinese then?” You rolled your eyes at Chanhee’s teasing (though also legitimate) question. “Well it’s not like I stuck around to ask.” You crossed your arms as you gave Chanhee a warning glare. “Fine, I’ll ask him then.” He said, and your phone lit up on the table a moment later – of course he’d mentioned it in your group chat.

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Changmin had heard Chanhee’s cackling from his room at the other end of the apartment and had been mentally cursing for the duration, his face perhaps an even brighter shade of scarlet than yours. Of all of the awkward things to happen, the girl he liked and one of his best friends walking in while he was halfway to climax thinking about her had to be the most unfortunate. Firstly there was the problem of how he’d ever look you in the eye again, but secondly was the problem that remained below his waistline. You walking in hadn’t helped that of course. If it had been Chanhee or Kevin walking in, his stiffness would have gone in a split second, but despite the embarrassment of what had just happened, his length remained taut against his boxers which he’d quickly pulled back up in shock after your momentary appearance. He was no longer in the mood to continue, too worried about what you might be thinking, so he decided his only option was to go for a cold shower in the hope that that might fix it.

Before he had the chance to hop in however, his phone buzzed, showing a text from New. He groaned as he read the older boys words, knowing that he’d never live this down whining again when he realised the texts were sent not just to him but to your group chat. Thankfully Changmin had already eaten, although he wouldn’t mind a bit of Chinese, but given the current awkwardness he decided to pass up on the offer for food. He would probably be able to face you later but if he ordered food he’d have to sit with you to eat it, and the embarrassment was stilll far too fresh for that to be a comfortable affair, so he quickly typed out his reply and hopped in the shower to deal with the problem beneath his pants.

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An hour or so later you and Chanhee had just about finished your editing for the day and were tucking into your food, but you still hadn’t heard a peep out of Changmin. You sighed, finishing your bowl of jajangmyeon, feeling a little guilty that Changmin wasn’t sharing in the joys of your takeout food, all because you’d been dumb enough not to knock. “Hm maybe I should take him something” you sighed looking across all the cartons of food you’d ordered. Maybe he had actually eaten already, but there was so much, and you were sure he’d like some. “You’re not going to eat all that are you?” You asked Chanhee, nodding to the half full box of kkanpunggi in the middle. Chanhee just shrugged. “You sure you want to go back in there?” He sniggered as he asked the question, deliberately trying to provoke you. “No I am not, but I’m not going to avoid him forever just because I’ve seen his dick” you declared defiantly, making Chanhee almost spit out his boba as he doubled over in laughter. However awkward you were feeling, you’d have to face each other eventually. Normally you wouldn’t be so thrown off by something like this, for instance, you’d once accidentally walked in on Kevin going at it with someone one time when you’d stayed over at Sunwoo’s, but you’d just greeted it with an ew and laughed about it later. The only thing that had you feeling so utterly flustered was the sound of him uttering your name whilst he was clearly having some ‘time to himself’, but since you figured he wouldn’t necessarily be aware you’d heard that, you decided you’d be able to brush it off for now and pretend like everything was just peachy.

“Well just remember to knock this time” Chanhee quipped as you stood up, taking the box of spicy garlic fried chicken with you, picking up some of the spare chopsticks the restaurant had sent too. You grinned sarcastically at Chanhee, your eyes silently telling him he was an asshole, before disappearing off down the hall to Changmin’s room, praying that he’d be fully tucked into his pants this time. “Changmin? Can I come in?” you called as you knocked tentatively on his door. You heard some shuffling and low muttering before he answered with an uncertain “sure”.

Swinging the door open for the second time this evening you were relieved to see Changmin perched on his bed, fully clothed with an xbox controller in his lap and his headset to the side of him. You saw the overwatch character select screen flickering brightly on his tv screen too so you could only assume he was playing online with someone. “Oh you’re playing? Who’s on?” you asked quietly as you walked a couple of steps into the room, the carton of kkanpunggi still in hand. “Uh, just Eric.” Changmin replied, his eyes darting around the room as he struggled to make eye contact with you, for understandable reasons. “Hi Eric!” You sang loudly so he could hear you through the microphone. Though it was quiet, only coming from Changmin’s headset you heard a faint chuckle and Eric’s voice returning the greeting. “I brought you some kkanpunggi, I thought you might like some, it’s really good” you said, turning your attention back to the boy actually in the room.

Changmin’s expression softened watching as you stood there, proudly holding up the box of chicken and chopsticks. Even after what happened you were still thoughtful enough to bring him nice food so he wouldn’t miss out. What he wouldn’t give to be able to just pull you onto his lap and feed one other the delicious food, cleaning up any stray sauce with kisses. In his dreams he thought.

“Awh how come he gets chicken?” Eric whined through the headphones pulling Changmin out of his daydream. “KEVIN-HYUNG CAN WE GET CHICKEN?!” The sudden loudness of the younger boy through the headphones made you giggle, and you shared an amused look with Changmin. As bizarre as it was though, you were rather grateful for Eric’s random inputs which actually seemed to have the effect of relieving some of the tension in the room.

“Yah be quiet! I’m not even wearing my headphones and that hurt my ears!” Changmin called towards his headset shutting the younger boy up with an insincere sorry. “Oh it smells good, thank you y/n!” Changmin smiled sweetly at you as you placed the box down on the side table next to his bed. “That’s okay!” You replied, moving a few steps away again before looking nervously towards Changmin’s headset. You wanted to apologise for your earlier intrusion to get it out of the way, but you definitely didn’t want Eric to be witness to that, so you lowered your voice to a whisper. “Oh um, so I’ll be leaving in a bit, I just wanted to say sorry for earlier, I um- I should probably have knocked before I came in.”

Changmin could feel the heat rising in his cheeks being reminded of the earlier incident and although his hair mostly covered it, the tips of his ears were now definitely a blazing pink. “Oh-“ He was frankly a little stuck for words. He’d been sat in his room for the better part of an hour rehearsing what he might say to you in his head, but now you’d come in here to apologise, with chicken no less, he didn’t really have an answer for you. “Uh- it’s okay,” he mumbled. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Before it could get too awkward however, you snickered as you heard Eric and Kevin clearly having an argument about chicken faintly through the headphones still laying next to Changmin and you thanked your lucky stars that they evidently weren’t listening to you and Changmin’s awkward exchange. “Well I promise I’ll knock next time.” Changmin chuckled, running a hand sheepishly through his hair as you moved back toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to the game if those two ever stop arguing, I’ll see you later yeah?”

Changmin nodded and said goodbye as you slipped out to return to the dining table where New sat, a mischievous glint in his eye as he grinned at you. “On a scale of 1 to Eric talking to girls, just how awkward was he?” He asked, clearly trying to stifle his laughter. “Shut up New” you scoffed as you began picking up the empty food cartons to throw in the trash. This little shit was gonna milk this out for as long as possible and you weren’t here for it. “Well at least you didn’t scream and run out this time” he bantered, only to be met with a look of pure contempt from you as he passed you one of the empty food containers. “I am this close to pouring this black bean sauce all over that new balenciaga t-shirt Chanhee” you threatened holding out a carton that had the remains of some sauce wobbling about in the bottom. Chanhee jumped back covering his shirt with his hands, knowing that it wasn’t an empty threat from another time he’d pissed you off and you threw half a cup of peach tea all over him. It was a waste of the tea, but he’d had it coming. “That’s what I thought.” You proclaimed before disappearing into the kitchen to dispose of the containers.

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On your way home your head was filled with all kinds of thoughts about what you’d unintentionally just witnessed. All you really wanted to do was relax after a long day of work and carrying heavy equipment around, but all you could think about was your name on Changmin’s lips and what the hell it meant. Was it just an accident? Or if it wasn’t, did that confirm everything that Kevin had been telling you? Did Changmin really like you? There had been an undeniable vibe between you for the past few weeks, what with the increasing amount of time you spent together and the intimate moment on the roof last night, but until this weekend, you hadn’t thought about it much, your mind largely preoccuppied with your anger towards Sunwoo.

Your mind flipped through your memories with Changmin as you sat on the tube, trying to make sense of everything, and as you did so, it dawned on you. Kevin was right. Changmin liked you. Perhaps that was even what he had tried to tell you the previous night before Jeju had abruptly cut him off. You recalled all the times Changmin had sat with you and listened to you rant about Sunwoo, the way he’d been so angry the day after that one fateful party, and how he’d always been there waiting for you with a hug when you were down. It was a wonder you’d never realised it before. Perhaps Changmin’s warm presence in your life had just become so natural you never thought anything of it, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this wasn’t just two friends looking out for eachother. No, it was more than that.

You felt a heat in your chest as you processed this revelation, trying to make sense of your own feelings. You adored Changmin, but then who didn’t? The way his dimples made him look like the sweetest angel whenever he smiled, the way his eyes lit up whenever he discovered something really interesting, the way he couldn’t stop himself from giggling even at the most inappropriate moments. It was impossible not to like him. But then not everybody knew him like you. They didn’t have your relationship. Changmin had always been there for you, even though it was Chanhee you called your best friend and Sunwoo he called his. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed – when to give you space, when to give you hugs or when to make you laugh so hard you cried. Upon reflection, there was no one who came close to making you feel as happy and comfortable as Changmin did. You couldn’t think of a single occasion he hadn’t made you smile and you slowly began to realise… Was it possible… that you liked him too?

Then the thoughts of Sunwoo swarmed your mind. Did he know Changmin was into you? No of course not. They weren’t on the best of terms right now but you imagined it would be a hell of a lot worse if he did know his best friend was infatuated with his ex-girlfriend. If anything were to happen between you and Changmin, Sunwoo would be outraged for certain. But maybe that was what he deserved. He’d lost the right to an opinion on your life when he tried to get back with you by sleeping with you when you were drunk. Although perhaps falling for his best friend was a little far…

You leaned your head back against the glass of the subway train, sighing as your mind replayed the memory of Changmin’s breathless expression as his hand gripped his manhood. You kind of wished it would stop, not wanting the embarrassment of getting so worked up in public, but you just couldn’t tear your thoughts away from it. After your newfound revelation, you were getting dangerously close to imagining what had been happening before you walked in, and what sort of things he might have been thinking of doing – you nearly missed your stop in your dazed state but thankfully the announcement pulled you out of your thoughts and you rushed to the doors just in time to hop off before they closed and the train sped off into the distance, away from you and your insurmountable dilemma.

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The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Three: Beneath the Oak Tree

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Strained parent relationship, death of a parent, grief, anxiety, it’s gonna get a little fluffy in this one!

W/C: 3.9k

A/N: So I'm honestly really proud of myself for this chapter, there's a little something that I wrote while I was in Ezra's mind & I still can't get over it. I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you all so much for the love & support!

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Chapter Two || Chapter Four

~APRIL NINETEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN – AFTERNOON~

At the day’s end, you begin your trek back to the house, the heels and balls of your feet aching in a bruising way with each step. The sun creeps lower and lower behind you as you walk and you can feel the warmth of its rays hugging your back. There was a time you would enjoy watching the sunset, when you would stay in town the few extra moments to revel in its beauty and its promise to you that, although darkness will soon creep in, the sun will rise again and bring with it a fresh beginning.

Now, though, your newly appointed duties force you to neglect your favorite time of day. Right after closing the shop, you headed over to the butchers shop for the cheapest pound of beef, cut up into chunks as requested by Pa, and began walking. Not looking back at the town or the sunset, but not able to look forward either. Muscle memory takes over your legs, the map in your mind leading you straight home and all other directions you may have anticipated moving towards are erased completely now.

As you walk up to the farm, you see Mr. Prospect far into the fields, digging weeds from the Earth diligently with the hoe in his hands. You gander upon him for a moment, slowing down your pace just to glance a little longer than might be considered appropriate. He’s discarded his jacket and his white shirt looks dirtier now, the sleeves rolled up to his biceps to reveal his tan arms. They’re not overly muscular, but you know they must be strong with how hard he’s working the fields.

You misstep while your head is turned to Mr. Prospect, the toe of your boot catching a fairly large rock in the dirt and it causes you to trip. You stumble, but regain your balance quickly and feel the flush of embarrassment flow through you, your head now facing forward with the front door to the house in your sights. You take another peek at Mr. Prospect, his attention still focused on the dirt, obviously not having seen you fumble and you thank whoever above that he had not been looking your way.

Once inside, the aroma of vegetable broth is swirling through the air; Pa had already begun the stew, thankfully, relieving some of the responsibility from you. You walk into the kitchenette and set the wrapped beef down onto the only free counter, then you remove your bonnet and bag, hanging it on the wooden hook and turning to place the lockbox back inside the safe.

You turn back to the kitchenette, unwrapping the paper to reveal the raw meat within and you dump it into the boiling broth with the vegetables. A simple stew; you’ve no spices besides pepper and fresh rosemary from the garden and the meat was already salted by the butcher, but it was always a favorite that Ma would make. Yet, when you try to cook it, it never comes out with the same taste anymore. As if Ma had put her own love into it and it was another part of her you just would not have anymore.

After some time, the stew is finished, the broth thickened and the vegetables and meat cooked through to tenderness, and just then, Pa walks into the house. He walks as if the weight of the Earth rests on his shoulders and he breathes deeply, trying to regain the air in his lungs he had lost from the hard work of the day. You stand in the kitchenette, waiting for him to move from the frame so you are able to greet Mr. Prospect as well, but Pa shuts the door behind him.

“He did not wish to join,” Pa says simply.

“Did he explain why?” You ask.

“He said he did not want to impose. I did not press the matter; if he chooses solitude, I will not force his hand,” Pa replies as he sits down at the table.

You keep quiet, deciding not to further discuss the subject so as to not upset Pa and you ladle a helping of stew into a bowl for him, carrying it along with the basket of rolls to the table. You set it down in front of him and after he says his silent letter to Ma, he begins eating. You serve yourself some stew as well and sit down at the table. You and Pa eat in silence, as usual, but there’s a nagging thought in your head that will not subside. As much as you try to throw it to the wind, your curiosity gets the best of you and as you stand to grab your dishes, you find the courage to confront your father.

“Pa?”

“Hm?” He grunts, packing his pipe with tobacco.

“Why did you not inform me of Mr. Prospect yesterday?” You ask quietly, hoping he will not be upset with your questioning.

“I did not see the need to. Not until I had a chance to speak with him myself.”

“I could have helped, Pa. You could have sent him to me and I could have spoken with him,” you continue as you move to stand closer to him. He sighs deeply.

“No.”

His quick response comes out cold, a spat in the face more like, and you immediately take offense. Clearly, Pa still sees you as a child and, like a child, he expects you to bend to the laws he has established in this house. Your pulse races, the grown woman within you takes over your mind and you feel the urge to fight for your position. It breaks your heart; you were used to fighting for yourself in the town, but now you find yourself fighting against your own father.

“Why? Do you not trust my judgement? I’ve put my work in for the farm like you and Ma have before me,” you reply in a firm tone.

“Because I am the owner and I will hire whomever I see fit. Enough of this.”

He nearly barks at you, like the Bakers’ dog that would frighten you as a child whenever you passed its territory, and you feel that same terror rush through you now. You try to see reason, but no acceptable excuse comes to mind. Perhaps he did not feel as though you have earned his respects as the young lady you are. Whatever he thinks of it, you feel it may be best to settle the subject. For now.

“Yes, sir,” you say softly. You turn to the kitchenette, place your soiled dishes in the basin and walk back to the range, serving a helping of food into another bowl with a spoon and setting a roll on top. “I will go offer some stew to Mr. Prospect.”

“Leave him be, daughter. If he wished to eat, he would have joined us at our table,” Pa says with a furrow in his brow.

“Perhaps he is intimidated, Pa. Afraid to sit and converse with us after the town has already been so unfriendly. If he wishes to be lonesome, I will respect it. But I will not let him go hungry simply for his preference.”

Before giving Pa another chance to argue, you step outside and shut the door behind you. You take a moment to yourself once you are far enough away from the house. A crushing feeling sits on your chest, pressure building and building and you take deep breaths in an attempt to calm your rapidly beating heart and quiet the ringing in your ears. You allow yourself to feel the cool breeze from the night flow across your face and closed eyelids as you find your center again.

You had hoped Pa would see you as an adult by now, not a helpless child. The loss of your mother only matured your soul more than it already was previously. You wonder what Ma would think, if she would agree with Pa or with you. Only more sadness courses through you, though, as you remind yourself that you will never know the answer.

Finally regaining your strength, you walk towards the barn, bowl in hand and heart drumming nervously in your chest. Why? Why so anxious? What is it about this mysterious man that has you feeling like a schoolgirl again? He was absolutely an intriguing – and rather handsome – man, far different from the men around town, as well as friendly, so why had everyone else been so disconcerted by him? You truly must have a different set of eyes, then, because you only wish to know – to learn – more.

You reach the ajar barn doors and knock on the wood softly to announce your presence. There is some shuffling from within until Mr. Prospect pulls open the door, his gaze full of pleasant surprise to see you standing in front of him.

“Sunflower,” he grins. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I apologize for interrupting your rest, but I figured you might be hungry after today,” you reply and hold out your hand with the bowl. He glances down at it, quickly looking back up into your eyes.

“I couldn’t, miss, I would feel as though I am taking advantage of your kindness.”

“Nonsense,” you scoff and his eyebrows twitch amusingly at your rebuttal. “It is the very least we can do since we are not able to pay you much. ’Sides, I’ve already served you; I would be more offended if you were to decline now. Otherwise it will go to waste and that will not sit right with Pa. Or with me.”

“Very well, Sunflower. I would hate to disappoint, so I will accept. Thank you very much,” he smiles and grabs the bowl from your outstretched hand, his fingertips lightly brushing your palm and a slight tingle from his skin on yours trickles through your hand. “May I ask you to join me?”

“I’d best not linger; I’m afraid I’ve managed to upset Pa tonight and I’d rather not cause him any further distress before sleep,” you explain, pushing past the temptation to say yes.

“I am sorry to hear that; I hope my being here hasn’t caused any controversy between you and your father.”

“Not at all, it has nothing to do with you, Mr. Prospect. Rest easy,” you smile.

“Thank you, dear Sunflower. Both for the ease of mind and also for this meal; I cannot wait to taste the flavors that have charmed my nose with its temptatious smell.”

You giggle softly at his statement; he speaks so differently, his own elocution, it seems. You bow your head slightly at him and take a turn to leave, but a lingering curiosity prompts you to speak.

“Mr. Prospect, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he grins while he waits.

“Why do you call me ‘Sunflower’?”

“Do you take offense to my endearment, miss? I do apologize-”

“No,” you shake your head, offering a small smile for your expression to match your acceptance of the name he has bestowed upon you. “I must admit I quite like it. I was only curious.”

“It is because you glow as one; bright as the sun, yet gentle as its petals. Though, its beauty would diminish greatly were it next to you in comparison.”

Your neck, cheeks, and ears burn; an almost overwhelming heat you have not felt since little Morris Clark snuck a kiss to your cheek as children in the school play yard. Though, there was nothing childlike about the sensation rushing through you. His words make you smile; a genuine smile you forgot your face was capable of producing.

“I… I hope you enjoy the soup. I-I will be back for the bowl and spoon in the morning,” you stutter and attempt to hide the jubilant grin on your face by biting your lip. “Goodnight, Mr. Prospect.”

“Sunflower?” He calls out as you’re mid-turn, causing you to stop at his beckon. “Please, call me Ezra.”

Your smile breaks wider across your face and Ezra grins back, nodding slightly as he watches you consider his proposal. You take a breath to calm the thumping of your heart.

“Goodnight… Ezra.”

“Goodnight.”

~APRIL TWENTY-FIRST OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Sundays were your favorite days. No, not because of church, but because it was the only day of the week where you were able to close the shop early enough and have a spare moment to yourself. While everyone was busy praising God, praying to Him to prove they were holier than the rest of the town and repenting for the sins they committed during the week (just for them to start fresh on a new batch the next morning), it was the day you found your own escape.

You intently watch the clock ticking on the wall until the work day comes to an end and you quickly rush to the door to flip the sign, guaranteeing no other customers would make it through. You head back to the counter and carefully examine the ledger and count the coin from the day to assure each sale has been accounted for. After checking it once, you go through it again to reaffirm it’s correct and close the book.

You gather the coins in your hand and place them in the velvet bag, tying the string at the opening and setting both the bag and the book into the metal lockbox. You turn the small key, place the box in your bag, and nestle the key within your breast pocket.

You hurriedly make the trek back to the farm and you see Pa rounding up the chickens for their feeding. In your haste, you notice belatedly that you had not seen Ezra in the fields, but convince yourself he may be busy elsewhere. After a brief announcement of your arrival, you walk through the wooden front door, the floorboards creaking underneath you as you walk straight to the black safe next to the fireplace. You place the metal box from your bag inside the safe, closing it once again and heading back outside.

“Pa, I’ll be back in time for supper,” you call out as you stand under the apple tree, searching for the shiniest and reddest apple from its leaves to place in your bag.

“Be careful, daughter,” he replies as he throws more feed into the dirt. Considering how strained your relationship with Pa became, thankfully, he still respected your weekly ritual without any argument.

You wave and walk away from the farm, in the opposite direction of the town and towards the hills. It’s a mere five minute hike until you make it to the small landing at the base on the other side of the hill, letting the sounds of the flowing river fill your ears with delight. It is your own personal haven; no other person has found this place and you privately claimed it as your own, even marking your initials into the large oak tree that dwelled there.

As you make your way through the pine colored grass and up to your usual sitting area, you see the outline of a man sitting under your tree. Your brows furrow in confusion and you feel momentarily disappointed upon the realization that your secret place has been found by another, but you don’t dare be outwardly perturbed; how were they to know this was your own private sanctuary to escape the gloom of what has become of your life?

You continue in a steady march, not prepared to let your resting spot become someone else’s easily. Your mother taught you manners; you knew how to share. That did not mean it had to please you, but as long as they kept to themselves, you rationalize, what’s the harm? Maybe it was another lost soul finding comfort in the calming atmosphere of this place. An unavoidable grin stretches across your face, however, when you step closer and recognize the choppy cut of hair atop the man’s head. You catch a glimpse of his profile and his discernible nose and conclude it is the traveling man that has so intensely piqued your interest.

“Good afternoon, Ezra,” you address once you’re in range of his hearing. It catches him off guard and his shoulders jolt slightly, clearly unexpectant of anyone else finding this place.

“Sunflower,” he beams when his eyes meet yours as you stand under the shade of the tree. He moves to stand to properly greet you.

“Please,” you hold a hand up to stop him. “May I join you?”

“It would be a true delight,” he responds and resettles himself on the ground.

You smile sincerely and are pleasantly surprised to find it comes naturally and with ease in his presence. You lift your dress slightly from the ground and carry your weight to your knees to rest on your bottom, bending your legs to lay beside you. You sigh contentedly as you smooth out your skirts out around you.

“What brings you here? What about the fields?” You ask.

“Your father relieved me of my duties for the remainder of the afternoon. He declared: ‘Every soul should rest on the Lord’s day’.”

“Yes,” you chuckle. “That sounds like Pa.”

You do not press the subject of his religion, knowing first-hand how irksome it is when others comment on your lack of worship and you do not wish to cause Ezra any further discomfort by intruding on his personal preferences. A moment of silence passes between you two; the river flows and splits across different shaped rocks and boulders embedded into the dirt below the surface, creating a relaxing tune, gladly welcomed by your ears.

“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” You ask, turning your gaze to his. To see his peaceful face, full of heartfelt content of the surroundings, you think it may not be so bad to finally have a friend to share it with.

“Indeed; lovelier so with your company,” he smiles.

You feel a strange occurrence within you, a sudden spike in your pulse that makes your fingers and toes tingle, much like when they ache at the end of a long day. Yet, in this moment, you welcome it.

“I usually come here alone,” you say quietly as you fiddle with the strap of your bag.

“My apologies; if you’d prefer, I will find a different location of rest,” he frowns slightly, afraid he has imposed on time you prefer to spend alone.

“No,” you say quickly. “Don’t fret. Besides, this is the only place the children do not come to cause chaos.”

“I see,” he chuckles breathily, a sense of relief rushing through him that he has not upset you. “Perhaps we can share, then?” He questions tenderly in a hopeful wish released to the air.

“Yes,” you nod. “I think I would enjoy that.”

He smiles, his eyes gleaming along and you cannot fight the slight, arrhythmic thumping in your chest at the sight of his glee. Another moment passes without a word spoken as your heart paces normally once again and you look over at Ezra, his fingers busy fiddling with a small book.

“Whatcha got there?” You ask. He looks at you before meeting your gaze to his lap.

“Oh...” He looks at the brown, leather bound booklet in his hands. “A journal for my thoughts and compositions alike.”

“It’s nice to write down your reflections. May I hear some? Unless they are too close to your heart, then I do not wish to pry.”

“I’ve not read these aloud to anyone since my youth, dear Sunflower, but it would bring me great joy if you were to listen,” he says softly and you turn your body to face him, providing your utmost attention.

He smiles, chest rising profoundly with each nervous breath he takes as he opens his book, turning the ivory pages with the pad of his index finger until he lands on a scripture to read, clearing his throat before he begins.

“The vast expanse of the Green went on in each direction farther than the eye could see. The emerald of the leaves above coalesce into the umber of the earth below, both hues combining in the moss bound to the wide and tall bodies of majestic trees.

“The sunlight rained through the leaves, its rays bathing the ground I walked on and bringing the small buds of flowers to life with each step I took. The morning dew kissed the delicate fronds, single droplets meeting their lovers akin and they became as one, rolling away from the home they shared briefly and freefalling in blissful adrenaline until they met their demise in the dirt.

“I immersed myself in the environment, years upon years of the knowledge of rebirth all around, and I breathed in the crisp coolness of the air and life surrounding me. I long to become the moss on the tree, the buds in the dirt, the dew on the frond. To fade away into the Green and be born again.”

He takes a deep breath as he closes the book, grazing his fingers along the cover as if he is praising it, thanking it silently for the blank canvas it provides for him to express himself. His words move you, the meaning behind his composition striking a chord within your heart and, suddenly, you feel a small bead of water rolling down your cheek. As you bring your finger to your eye to wipe away the first tear you have shed in many moons, Ezra looks over at you and catches you in the act.

“Are you alright, Sunflower?” He asks with concern laced in his voice. He would reach out to comfort you through physical touch were he not afraid to overstep and offend you.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you brush off before flashing a soft smile at him. Though, he is not convinced. “It’s beautiful; you have a raw talent for composing. It sounds like a lush place, nothing like around here. What is ‘the Green’?”

“A never-ending stretch of greenery and tall trees. At times, I can faintly smell the aroma of the dirt, muddied by the rain.”

“Where is it?” You ask, a slight hope forming in your heart that you may be able to visit someday.

“Ah, it resides only in my dreams, I’m afraid. A place my subconscious has manifested for me to visit during my slumber.”

“It sounds heavenly,” you add in a whisper.

Ezra is stunned; in his youth, he has composed small poems and sonnets such as the one he just recited to you and each time he dared to share them with anyone, he always got the same response. Classmates teased him and called him a freak or queer and he never felt any desire to share his work again. Yet, with you, your gleaming eyes directed to him with such intrigue, he felt compelled to share once again. And the response this time warms his heart.

“It can be. Then again, it feels quite lonesome as well. Such a colossal stretch of land, yet I am the only one there.”

“It must be my own desire to be free of prying eyes and ears that makes it sound appealing. I did not consider how it has been for you during your travels. Forgive me, Ezra,” you say, your eyes shining with guilt and he looks deeply into them, a touch of gold streaking in his irises as the sun flashes across his face.

“You have nothing to apologize for, dear Sunflower. I understand your desires. If I had also grown in a town such as this, I would gladly welcome a visit to the Green.”

You nod your understanding, but a twinge of guilt hits you as you consider how poorly Ezra must have been treated when he first arrived. You do not wish to ask and ruin the peacefulness of this moment, though you vow to keep it in mind to ask at a later time. For now, you will enjoy your company with Ezra under the large oak tree, heart happily beating in your chest with someone to finally share time with.

Chapter Two || Chapter Four

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Sinful Sunday THOTS

So I'm starting this so this more so for myself. I was thinking, I take everyone else THOTS, but why not share my own? So on Sundays from now on I am going to post a list of THOTS I had during the week that I wrote down!

This weeks in shorter because I just got the idea last night and wrote them all up delirious with no sleep, so sorry for mistakes, but other words enjoy!

Thank you @fuckyeahbeskar for talking about two of these THOTS with me, and for telling me I should post one of them because that is what gave me this idea 😘

Sinful Sunday Masterlist

Pairings: Paz Vizsla x Reader, Priest!Din Djarin x Reader, Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

Paz Vizsla x Reader

So I love sweet Paz and all but what about enemies to lovers Paz?

I've thought about this one for awhile...

So you are part of the mandalorian tribe that Paz and the remains of his tribe had joined. Immediately you and Paz started fighting, you weren't sure why, but just something about him rubbed at you. It wasn't uncommon for others to walk into a room and find you and Paz butting heads, literally. The two of you had been separated multiple times by the leader of your tribe and the armorer, just to keep you both from killing eachother. Eventually you decide to just start avoiding him and ignoring his presence, tired of fighting over stupid things. Unfortunately that lasted only a month before your leader called you into the armory for an assignment. He told you that you were being sent on a supply mission along with one of the warriors from the other tribe. You nodded and didn't think much of it until you were preparing the ship and Paz came strutting towards you. All you could do was clench your teeth and cross your arms asking him why he was here. He had only stared at you for a minute before saying, "I've been assigned to the supply mission." After that he finished loading the ship before heading to set up the controls. You just growled and sent a comm to your leader saying that if you survived this mission you were going to kill him.

The supply mission was to take two weeks, one to the planet where the supplies were stored and another to get back. The first two days the two of you stayed away from eachother. But on the third day the two of you started butting heads and arguing. On the 5th day Paz had managed to corner of of the ship and pin you to the wall, and in that moment you hated how flushed and hot you felt. You had to end up taking a cold shower to calm down.

When the two of you finally reached the planet and loaded the ship with supplies you were glad to be able to take some time away from Paz as you wandered the market while he was off bartering with the merchants. You made sure to take your time before walking back to the ship to find Paz FUMING. You just shrugged past him and onto the ship, totally ignoring his angry words about you being late and being an idiot and so on.

The first day back in hyperspace was spent avoiding eachother again, but that night you were over come with the need to touch yourself. You hated it but as you played with your clit all you could imagine was Paz’s body pressed against yours, pinning you in place, how he would feel slamming into you. Much to your frustration you came with a long groan of his name.

The next day found you and Paz fighting again unsurprisingly, but this time was different. This time, Paz once again pinned you to the wall before leaning down and whispering in your ear, "You know the walls of this ship are thin, and I could hear every moan last night. Was I mistaken when I heard my name as well?"

Could you only reply breathlessly as he moved his thigh between you legs, "You fucking wish Vizsla." And he leaned down close, bumping his helmet with your own as he pushed his thigh against you and whispering something quietly under his breath before saying, "Mmm maybe you need to be punished for lying." He immediately spanked you, and you couldn't help but moan and you could feel his smirk as he did it again. Before grabbing your ass roughing and saying that you were going to be sore tomorrow, he was going to make sure of it. Paz took no time at all before pulling you pants down and turning you around to face the wall. You angrily started to protest, but was immediately shut up with another smack to the ass, with which you could only moan brokenly. You heard Paz chuckle,, before spanking you again, before rubbing a hand over your flesh. Then he harshly pulled you back into his chest and kicked you feet apart before immediately pressing his glove covered finger tips to you clit. Paz then told you, "Im gonna make this pussy weep for me until you are begging for my cock." And he kept his promise. Paz brought you orgasm after orgasm and by your fifth you were already starting to beg him. He only growled in your ear and slapped you pussy saying, "You can do better than that. Beg. Me." You tried again, but it also result in another harsh slap. This time you let out a broken sob and whined out, "Please, fucking please pleasepleaseplease, Paz give your cock... I need to feel it inside of me so badly. Fuck me pleaaaassseeee."

And before you could even take a breath you felt him slam his enormous cock into you. You could only whimper at the stretch and curse Paz. He only chuckled and wait a few seconds, detailing everything he wanted to do to you before he started pounding into you so hard you could barely stand or think straight. Paz didn't let up and railed you through several more orgasms before he came deep inside you himself.  Afterwards he carried you to bed and mockingly said, "Goodnight cyare."

The rest of the trip was spent with petty fights ending in fucking eachother senseless and by the time you arrived at the covert you found yourself somewhat disappointed that this was all going to end. But you were shocked when Paz turned to you after he had landed the ship and asked, "Marry me?"

You only smirked and said back, "Give me a good reason too, di'kut."

You heard him growl, before he pulled you onto his lap and said, "So I can look you in the eye as I fuck the life out of you, so I can finally shut that mouth of yours up with my cock down your thoat."

Let's just say that the other mandalorians avoided the ship for a few hours as they heard moans coming quite loudly from inside. The Armorer and the tribe leader both nodded to eachother and let out a sigh glad that they wouldn't have to deal with your shit anymore.

(In this THOT i also imagine Paz being absolutely infatuated with you from day one, and those feelings that rub at you is just intense attraction that you don't want to acknowledge. The Armorer and tribe leader set the trip up to try and push the two of you together so they didn't have to deal with the sexual tension so thick it could kill anyone that walked past. In the end the are fucking relieved it worked, though a little too well lmao)

Din Djarin x Reader

So Priest!Din thot....

After Sunday service one week you ask him innocently if he would like help cleaning up the chapel. Din smiles and says yes thank you. You wave your family to go ahead and wait for Din to finish speaking and saying goodbye to the parishioners. When the last woman leaves, little old Mrs. Taylor, he waves you inside. The two of you work in relative silence as you put away all the hymnals and bibles, the only noise being your movements and your own humming of one of the hymns from that day's service. By the time the two of you made it to the front of the chapel, you turn to eachother and pause looking at eachother before you both lean forward for a sweet kiss. When you pull back you smile at Din, before biting your lip and saying, "That was a beautiful service today, Father Djarin."

You could see Din's eyes dark the second you uttered his title. The look he gave you sent a warm shiver down to your lower belly. Then he reached forward and pulled you close whispering, "Only the best for my flock, my child." You couldn't suppress the small gasp that passed your lips as his hand moved to your hip backing you up until you felt your back hit the altar. You were shocked even more when Din suddenly lifted you and put you on the altar and immediately rolled you dress up your thighs whispering about how much he has been aching to feel you again. Din stops suddenly when he finds you missing your panties and he moans before grunting out, "A sinful temptress who just continues to seduce me with her wicked ways..." Then he's crashing his mouth on yours as he works to open his belt and pull out his aching cock. You can only meal against him he slowly slips into you. He stays fully seated inside of you for a minute, breathing harshly into you neck before pulling back to meet your eyes.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweet girl. You.....you have consumed my every waking moment, and I cannot stop these sinful thoughts of you." Then he dives back down into the kiss as he starts pounding into you, muffins your moans and whines with his mouth. The two of you fuck passionately and full of forbidden love as you desecrate the altar of the most holy. Din praises and worships you and your body as if you were the diety he pledged his life too. When the two of you were thrown into the ultimate pleasure you met eachother's gaze and spoke the words you both wish you could say aloud.

Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

My Ezra THOT of the week....

Just a preface, Ezra has a prosthetic arm in this THOT...

You were a rather skilled prospector. You had almost a sixth sense for good dig spots and that made you raise through the ranks rather quickly. Even though you were valuable, you still were never able to hit a dig that allowed you to be payed enough to finally settle down. You were hoping this dig would be different. You'd been hired by a bigger company, and was going down to the planet with a crew of roughly 15. The way your employers had explained it, you all would be split into groups of three and whatever your group mined would be split into four, parts for the three of you, and one for the company. It was the best deal you had gotten, ever. The day you were to go to the moon you climbed aboard the shuttle and took a seat next to a man with a charming smile and a unique blonde patch. While waiting to leave the two of you became acquainted and learned his name was Ezra.

As it turned out, Ezra and you had been paired up in a group, along with a woman named Shelby. You also learned that Ezra was very much a talker and loved to please. Shelby got annoyed with his constant chatter, but you found yourself smiling softly and occasionally responding to his poetic words with sentences as graceful as you could make them. Loving the smile Ezra would shoot your way when you did. You also came to realize that Ezra would give nicknames to those that he latched onto and you learned quickly that he had dubbed you to be sunflower. At night the two of you would speak, sharing stories until Shelby would forcefully shut the lantern light out on you both telling you to shut the fuck up.

As grumpy as Shelby was, you were still hurt when one afternoon she disappeared for hours. Worried Ezra had gone to look for her only to come back with a grim look and a shake of the head. The two of you didn't speak the rest of the night, paranoid and not wanting to leave the other alone for a second. A few days later found you waking from sleep in a could sweat and with Ezra holding your face softly whispering reassuring words. That was the first night the two of you shared a cot, and after that it became a nightly occurrence. Eventually two of your three and a half month stay had passed and you found yourself looking up as Ezra walked into the shared tent after his shower in the communal space, he was shirtless and you watched as water dripped from his hair down his chest. He had immediately met your gaze and you blushed and turned back to your book quickly. You were shocked when you ft a finger trace you cheek, not having heard him approach. Then he spoke up and said, "Sunflower, I want you to promise me that if I cross a line, you will tell me. I in no way want to make you uncomfortable." You had only looked up at him confused. He responded by gently taking your book and setting it aside, before turning back to you and leaning in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, before he softly brushed his lips against your own. Whwn you didn't pull away, Ezra dived in and pushed the kiss further. Soon you found yourself sitting in Ezra’s lap, stipped of everything but your under clothes, and makeout passionately with the man who has haunted your thoughts since you heard his voice. You instinctively started grinding against Ezra as you started to feel a pressure in you belly, that resulted in him groaning and grabbing your waist before pulling back slightly and looking you in the eye. He traced your skin for a second, causing goosebumps to erupt everywhere before he whispered, "May I ask a favor, my bright sunflower," you only nodded in response before he rushed out quickly and not as poetic as you are sure he would have liked, "Sunflower, please, for the love of Kevva, climb over me and place those sweet lips above mine." You sat there confused for a second before it clicked and you shyly asked him, "You want me to sit on your face?" You say his eyes dilated as he nodded shakily and whispered out a singular, please. You could only nod and he gave you the prettiest smile as he flopped back onto the bed before just completely rippling you panties off of you. You could only whine as he pulled your hips up. Ezra made sure you were making eye contact with him when he picked a broad striped along you slit with a groan and several muttered words. Ezra repeated that a few times before he stopped at your clit one pass and sucked it into his mouth. You could only choke out his name roughly before he just started eating you out like there was no tomorrow. At one point he as you were getting closer he pulled back long enough to tell you not to hold back anything, to tell you to grind against his face. You only moaned in response before he pulled you down onto his mouth and dipped into you again. It didn't take you long to start gasping out his name, and when Ezra reached up and grabbed your breasts, pinching your nipples, you felt your eyes roll back as you came all over his face as he continued his ministrations dragging out your orgasm as long as you let him. When you finally came back to your body you found yourself laying on the bed and Ezra naked next to you already dozing, having cum from his own touches while he was tasting you.