#and murmurs how there’s nothing to worry about because he’s not gonna let them near you

[maybege]

tonight I’m thinking of alpha!Boba pretending to be your mate when you get approached by creepy people in a bar

[screampied]

TO THE NIGHT WE MET.

summary. you and nanami watch the ball drop together to end the year with a good start. funny how even the sweetest moments can feel so…surreal.

wc. 1.7k

tags. gn!reader, fluff in the beginning, angst-ish, just nanami being an affectionate husband, calls reader sweetheart + dear.

“sweetheart, ‘s almost midnight.” nanami would mutter is the sweetest voice. you’re in the kitchen and he’s sat lazily manspread near the living room. nice and cozy on the leather comforter before he rubs a hand against his thigh, ushering you to come join him.

“okay.” you’d hum, making your way towards him, and a soft smile presses against his lips. he could never find the right words to describe how he felt whenever he’d just stare and gawk at you. you made his heart fill with love, so much of it.

the tv was on, and playing on the flat screen was the iconic ball drop. it was being broadcasted live, with just a few minutes to spare.

you made yourself cushy and snug against his lap. he wraps an arm around you before pulling you close towards him, snaking his fingers alongside your waist before resting his chin near your shoulder, he exhales a soft sigh before mumbling against your ear. “gonna be another year with you by my side. ‘m so lucky..”

“i’m luckier,” you teased, hearing his chest jostle a bit against you, his body language letting you know that he was laughing, a sweet playful guffaw.

“i’m luckiest, my dear,” he whispers—softly ghosting his fingers along inside down the nape of your neck, gently brushing a thumb against some strands of your hair as the two of you had your eyes averted towards the screen. “told ya.”

“pft.” you scoff with a subtle eye roll.

nanami hums to himself, knowing he’d always get the last word, finding your bitter yet teasing frustration to be nothing but simply…adorable, that was the word.

currently, nothing major was happening.

just a few well known bands performing before the ball would drop. currently plastered on the screen in a bright neon timer it read 11:56 P.M. nanami continued to hold you in his arms, your back pressed against his chest as if you didn’t have a single care in the world.

because well, you didn’t.

every moment you spent with nanami, you wanted to savor and cherish every moment. every second — every sixty seconds that hung onto every minute. simply because you never realized how quick time would speed by whenever you two would do something as simple as talking.

just rambling and rambling about nothings, about your day, his day, or nanami just showering you with compliments, he’s your husband after all.

just hearing the calmness of your voice was enough to put him at ease. to put all his irksome worries to rest, a deep and utter slumber.

“before we leave this year behind, sweetheart,” he mutters against your ear, and you feel him reaching towards the side of the couch to grab something. “i got you a little gift.”

“kento…” you start to object, turning around to face him, still propped up against his lap, just barely.

he smiles, bringing a hand towards your face before stroking your chin, placing the gift into your hand.

it was a pretty medium-sized box, a bit of weight onto it and he chuckles, “i know. ‘s not really a special occasion like your birthday or anything but i jus’ wanted to give you something you wanted since i had no time to get you anything for christmas. work was—”

“i…i can’t even get mad.” you sigh, eyebrows narrowly furrowing together. you pull him into a brief hug and he guffaws, at your tight grip your arms have as they lock around him tightly. his hands gently rub against your back, tenderly.

nanami smelled so good too, a strong mixture of cologne, but he always made sure to wear the ones that you liked. he was always so fond of letting you even pick them out for him to wear. you nuzzle your head against his chest a bit before murmuring a soft, “thank you.”

“eh, shouldn’t you thank me after you open it? if anything, the box could be empty, dear.”

he grins at the tiny pout-like scowl tugging against your lips before he playfully boops your nose, intently staring into your eyes before happily sighing. “oh, quit it. ‘m only teasing. go ahead. hurry and unwrap it. think you’ll really like it.”

you give him a quick glance, a cute frisky scowl on your lips before you look down to yourself with an almost hidden smile. digging your nails and starting to unravel the bright silvery wrapping paper — you could only imagine what this particular gift was.

a few good seconds later, your hands run across to what feels like a hefty base, your fingers trace around the material of layers and grain, before it stops against a circular lens.

“you...you remembered?”

“you did always say how much you wanted a new polaraoid,” nanami starts, tilting his head with a soft simper. such kind eyes staring into yours, not once departing. “which was like all the time, but i made sure to save up for you, sweetheart. now you can take as many pretty pictures you want.”

you start to feel a sudden throb in your chest, the more you stared at nanami — holding the newly unwrapped camera in your hand, thumbs swiping against it, an imaginary lump randomly getting caught in your throat to where you find it hard to voice out a reply and then he breaks the silence.

“ah, they’re starting the countdown. c’mere…”

you cleared your throat, somewhat helping the strange tears that nearly made its way to trickle down your eyes from his sweet efforts at giving you a present on new years.

the scenery was so pretty, crowds of people in puffercoats. balloons and lots of confetti everywhere decorating and flying amongst the sky from the wind.

humming and singing along to the jams and tunes before getting a bit quiet once the reporter announced it was time to start the infamous countdown.

“alright everyone, ten….nine….eight…seven….”

you hugged nanami’s waist, the both of you counting down together with the screen, he smiles at your grip. nanami ghosts his fingers against your back as a soothing method, before the continue.

“six…five…four…three…two…one…”

and the both of you watch as the pretty glistening ball that was slow drops near the colored bright lights of the new year display upon the tower. it was so heavenly to witness. you could only imagine what it’d be like to see the ball drop in person with nanami. perhaps another year though.

“happy new year, sweetheart.” he hums, breaking you away from your thoughts. he makes you face him with a swift finger or two—bringing your chin to look up at him before bringing you into a sweet and passionate kiss.

your eyes fluttered before closing, planting your hands down against his broad shoulders, you returned the kiss with such passion. a teeny smile could be felt against nanami’s lips as he pressed his mouth against yours — he was so sweet and precise, gently raising your head up just a bit.

the music of the tv played in the background, every saying their goodbyes and happy new years, and it’s a good minute before nanami pulls away — and, it’s an understatement to say that he’s just a little flustered.

“first kiss of the year. we should take a picture to remember this by,” and then he playfully runs a hand down his hair, speaking in a near gruff tone. “perhaps even make this a little tradition?”

“how should we pose?” you shyly say, making him sit back down against the couch—and he’s all snuggled up against you, a arm slinging around your waist as you turned the polaroid camera backwards so the lens could face the both of you.

nanami shrugs before raising his brows. “you can always um.. kiss my cheek, my dear.”

“okay.” you giggle.

you position yourself and nanami to a good enough angle for the camera to reach. with a swift few clicks of your thumb, you toggle the button towards the option to snap a picture and within three seconds—you quickly scoot in to press a soft kiss against his cheek, he flashes a cute grin and click.

within a few seconds, the picture exits out of the camera, yet it’s not developed.

“i bet we look great.” he hums, lightly moving you close towards his chest to plant a chaste kiss against the tip of your forehead.

and nanami was right. the both of you did. you both looked so happy, so full of joy, yet most importantly, so full of love. so full of attachment, need, and just…love. the way you were nestled up against nanami, your lips gently pressed against the right side of his cheek.

nanami’s right eye was open — his other eye was closed, a subtle wink at the camera, he always knew how to charm.

although after about a good fifteen minutes, the picture finished developing. actually, it’s been developed.

for years now.

it was the start of a new year again, and you decided to treat yourself on a nice vacation. to clear your head, take some time to yourself and all. you still had your camera. it’s stuck with you ever since.

malaysia, it was so pretty.

“he would have loved it here.” you sighed, slipping your fingers into your wallet to find that polaroid picture from those few years ago. you frowned a bit at the sight of it starting to develop a bit of crinkles but it was still in good condition.

your eyes stared down at the picture, of you kissing nanami on the cheek, him winking with an arm locked around your waist, and you could just hear his chuckle and his voice. “did you take the picture yet, sweetheart?”

the more you stared to reminisce, the more you sniffled. you didn’t wanna come to the bitter realization—the truth that you were still in grieve. nanami wasn’t here with you in malaysia simply because he was…gone.

it was a touch pill to swallow, but he went out people. that put you at somewhat of ease, right?

no it didn’t.

a sigh left your mouth as you brought your fingers up towards your face to wipe your incoming tears, the various droplets that suddenly fell onto the nearly crumbled up polaroid of your one and only loved, nanami kento.

“happy…happy new year, kento. i’ll make sure to take lots of pictures in malaysia. just for you. i love you..”

[itsabouttimex2]

Feeling evil rn :)

So I'm roleplaying with LSO MK, and currently the Y/N is very injured in their first fight against someone, since they decided to be a sneaky monkie kid and try to train themself somewhere again from MK.

Problem is that Y/N hasn't really be trained at all and doesn't know how to fight or even USE the staff.

And the Monkie Knight is not reacting very well at ALL.

Let’s Start Over:

 Battle Scars

You lay weakly across the ground, breathing hard and heavy. Arms roughly scraped against smooth concrete, shins kicked to swollen bruises. Blood from your nose and mouth. Head pounding. Everything hurts.

But you aren’t in any real danger. Not since your mentor’s prompt and almost brutal arrival on the scene.

“…Monkie Knight? How… how did you know I was…?”

Jin- and Yin, even though there was only supposed to be one of them because that was the rumor circulating and you wouldn’t have come out here on your own if you had known it would be both instead of just one-

Jin and Yin both lay limply across the ground, broken limbs strewn sloppily about their prone bodies.

They aren’t dead.

MK wouldn’t kill in front of you. Really, he doesn’t like to kill at all. But especially not in front of his cherished student.

“I told you,” your mentor whispers, clutching your head tight to his chest. “How many times did I tell you, kiddo? How many times did I lecture you about this? We spent hours going over this.”

Your wounds are many, each one a different shape, size, severity. Red and purple paint your skin, bruises and gashes along the length of your limbs and chest.

Nothing fatal, and that was clear at even a casual glance- but it didn’t make your mentor any less worried.

“Idiot,” he murmurs to your ear. That mild insult is the literal harshest word you’ve heard escape his mouth. Maybe you’ve earned it, with a stunt like this. “My little idiot. I can’t trust you at all, can I? You are never going outside without me again.”

MK presses a kiss to your forehead, stroking sweat-stained strands of hair from your eyes. “I shouldn’t have taken my eyes of off you, not even for a moment. I should’ve gotten here sooner. I should’ve protected you,” says a small and guilty voice, as though you had been killed instead of beaten down by two gibbering idiots. “I won’t let you get hurt again, Y/N.”

It’s rare that he calls you by your real name- you’ve been affectionally dubbed Clover, a reference to your position as the fourth bearer of the Ruyi Jingu Bang.

If MK is dropping that moniker, it’s simply more proof of how serious things have gotten.

His arms snake around your body, one hand resting under your thighs, the other supporting your upper back. Another kiss to your bleeding forehead, then he speaks:

“Let’s go home.”

You can’t bring yourself to answer beyond a nod, some level of shame and embarrassment sealing your lips. All you manage is a short nod before settling into his arms for the trek.

Every step forward is near agony, jostled about in spite of how careful MK is trying to be with you. The ground nearest to him is left uneven from the prior fight, broken and crumbled by powerful impacts. You bounce about, feeling all the bruises along you scrape against the torn clothing on you. At your first whimper, the Monkie Knight looks down at you, caught between worry born of anger and a deep pity.

“We’re gonna have words, Y/N, trust me. But I’ll get you patched up first, huh? Just close your eyes and let me get you home.”

Doing as requested, you try to focus on the beat of your mentor’s heart instead of his droning footsteps and the buzzing pain blooming across your skin.

The journey is slow and grueling, but MK reassures you several times both verbally and physically, stopping to adjust his grip on you and taking a moment to praise how well you’ve been doing.

And soon enough you’re home on Flower Fruit Mountain, bundled up under a blanket as MK stomps about the house in search of medical supplies.

“I can’t believe you. I cannot believe you, Clover. Pulling a stunt like this. Hands out. Now.”

You offer them up without hesitation, causing MK to falter with his sternness. “Good,” he praises, taking your left hand between his own.

A golden seal crackles to life on your palm, a severe restriction of powers. “No more staff.”

Then, he takes your right hand, prompting an exact replica of the first glittering power-limiter to sparkle into existence. “No more clones or shape-shifting.”

A final kiss to your forehead prompts a much more ominous seal to blossom across your skin, a bright golden line winding all the around your head, reminiscent of a single-banded crown.

“And no Mystic Monkey form, either.”

Something deep inside you starts to ache, a severance of your true identity forming within. All from a simple fatherly action that is no doubt being performed for “your own good”.

“Hands,” he repeats, grabbing a washcloth and a small water basin. You offer them again, a little slower this time, struggling to accommodate the newfound emptiness in your chest. MK begins to scrub your arms clean with a mild soap and warm water, frowning as he surveys the damage.

“You’re lucky. So, so lucky. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, you would have… they would have…”

A pause. Your mentor takes a deep breath. He pushes a small washcloth into your hands, frowning a little deeper as he rolls up the fabric of your pants.

“Pat your arms dry,” is his simple command. You slowly do as told, feeling as though your arms have been burdened with lead. As you work the wetness from your tattered skin, the Monkie Knight tends to your legs.

When all the wounds have been cleaned and your arms are no longer smothered in water and soap, MK takes them again and starts to apply large bandages to the worst of your wounds.

Each one is glittery, some shade of gold or red, branded with a smiling monkey face in the middle. They had been pricier than any store brand, but your mentor didn’t mind shelling out for the extra quality and cute designs.

The brighter colors and sparkling material made you smile when they caught in the light, and you smiling made him happy. They were an investment that paid themselves back several times over, in his opinion.

Your smile is one of his favorite things, now that he thinks of it. It’s proof that he’s doing well as a mentor, that he’s keeping you healthy and safe.

But looking at your face right now shows only regret and pain- maybe a little bit of emotional hurt alongside the discomfort caused by the struggles of battle.

“…I love you,” he says, hoping to cut the cold tension with a few warm words. “Even when you make bad decisions.”

“…I love you too,” is your delayed answer, causing the Monkie Knight to sigh in relief. Maybe you’re only saying to because he said it first. Or maybe because he’s done so much that you think you owe him that love.

Maybe you were on the verge of saying it yourself, without prompting or reason.

Regardless, MK drops everything to scoop you up in his powerful arms, his muscles straining to give a proper squeeze, pushing every bit of air free from your lungs.

“I won’t ever let you go again,” he says.

You doubt that he’s joking.

[berrieluv]

ew why was gross peter so hot i need more like gross peter cleaning the whole house and then fucking you awake and then fucking you in the shower

honestly don't know why i liked him so much???? it just appeared in my mind that day and i can't stop thinking about him by now. and thank you so much for sending this because i was in need to write about him.

again no tittle just more gross! peter parker.

Peter didn't like how jerking off felt now, not after finally having you. His fist no near to how your pussy clenched around his cock. You haven't allow him anywhere close to you, you just looked at him like he needed to do get his life together, and the old Peter would never understand why that was really fucking hot.

Peter thought two weeks were enough. He couldn't last longer, not with you wearing those short skirts almost on purpose, by the time you arrived, your body was displayed on the bed with tight little shorts, showing your ass to him, and he was just a man, so he did what he thought would never really have to do; he cleaned. He took all the empty cans of beer out of the fridge and washed the cum-covered sofa, because yes, he could've fuck you straight away on bed, but he respected your wishes, he may be an idle but he loves you more than anything.

Peter's cock wouldn't go down the whole time he spent cleaning, and it would never if he kept thinking about you the way he was. He entered your share (not lately) bedroom and took his pajama pants off, he couldn't resist it anymore, it was cruel what you were doing to him without even noticing.

He spits on his hand, stroking his cock before going inside of you, knowing it was impossible for you to be wet, he has watch you while sleeping and knows it's been too long since the last time you had a wet dream.

Peter puts your shorts aside, not thinking of taking them off, how could he when you looked so hot in them.

He started to stroke slow, carefully to not wake you up yet. He starts thrusting, his extremities holding him to not let his weight fall in you.

"Peter?" You murmured, still asleep.

"Yes, baby?" He asked carefully, knowing you weren't awake, not fully at least "You need something? Everything for you, princess, agh, you name it" He moaned.

"Clean" You said with a yawn.

"Done, princess. Said it; everything for you, fuck... everything for this pretty tight pussy, God, love you, baby, love how your pussy feels around my cock, fucking..."

"Peteeeer" He heard you cry, and he worried, was he hurting you?

"Yes? What happened, princess? What is it?"

"please..." you begged and he smirked "clean" his smirk fell and was replaced by a chuckle.

"I did already, princess. I told you didn't I? Your wish is my command, I would never do something you don't want me to"

"Thank you" You murmured, closing your eyes again and moving your knee to your chest so Peter could have a better access to your pussy.

And he went feral, you, sleeping peacefully on the bed, the mattress he haven't touch in so long and you were allowing him to just fuck you while you were sleeping, and using you felt so good, your body clenched around his cock and your snoring was replaced by little gasps.

He wanted to be careful with the pace, not too quick, he still tried to be careful with your body, but when you moaned like that, fuck, how could he;

"God, baby I love how you feel around me... Fuck, I want this bed just as how I had the couch, fucking... all fucking covered in my cum. i want you like that too..." he said, throwing his head back while thrusting harder into you "gonna pour all my cum in you baby, wanna see you fucking dripping like I always do, can I? please, baby let me fill you up with my cum"

Peter thrusts deeper one more time, the question was just a formality, he was going to do it anyway, he couldn't think on taking his cock out of you to cum.

When he finally pulled out, he saw his massive load of cum escaping from your pussy, which was clenching around nothing.

"You're so fucking hot, princess. You're pussy's a fucking dream. I'm not cleaning you up, baby. Gonna leave your pussy fucking dripping, you're gonna be so pissed when you wake up, won't you?"

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

Hunk’s not really a natural morning person. No one really is, he doesn’t think, and he already has to get up at stupid-o-clock in the morning for his job, so he likes to sleep in on weekends. He’s no Pidge, of course — if you let her that woman will literally slip into a coma on command — but if he doesn’t have to wake up early, he won’t.

In the city, where there is nothing but buildings and the air pollution is so bad it’s like a constant cloud over the area, that’s not a problem. In Lance’s woodland fairy-ass cabin, the sun shines straight from the window into his eyeballs the second it rises, and he’s up early.

He drags himself out of bed with a groan, glaring at Pidge who is entirely unbothered, because of course she is. He remembers when the three of them went on trips, growing up, and how he and Lance would wake up early for hotel breakfast and find Pidge still dead asleep. (They would proceed to have a competition to see who could stack more random shit on Pidge’s sleeping body before she woke up. She never woke up. A fuckin’ biblically accurate angel could descend upon them with the light of a thousand suns and Pidge would still be dead to the world. It’s honestly kind of hilarious, except right now Hunk is insanely jealous, so it’s not really funny.)

He digs through his duffel, looking for his X Files t-shirt because he is a dickhead and he thinks he’s funny (he is). Once he’s finally dressed for the day, he creeps out of the guest room — Lance’s cheeky warning from last night still ringing in his ears; he does not want another eyeful of alien dick, thanks — but the door to Lance’s (and Keith’s, he supposes) room is ajar, bed made neatly, lights off. They’re awake.

He pads down the hallway, peeking through at doors that are ajar but finding them all empty — washroom, laundry room, office, every single room with the lights off. He finally makes it to the kitchen, the last possible place where they could be, but there’s nothing. Curiously, he glances at the front door, but Lance’s dorky retro sneakers and Keith’s big combat boots are still there. Clearly, they’re both in the house, but where?

Deciding not to worry about it, Hunk starts digging through Lance’s fridge, pulling out eggs and cream and butter to make some breakfast. He’s pretty sure that all is forgiven for their less-than-stellar reactions to meeting a Real Life Alien, whom Lance is apparently boinking (which is much less of a shock than Hunk is pretending it is), but breakfast can’t hurt.

As he cracks and whisks the eggs, pouring them into the hot frying pan, he begins to hear a steady squeaking noise, like the creaking of a porch swing. He quietly moved the eggs off the burner, inching close to the big window over the sink and peeking out.

Ah. There they are.

Lance sits with his feet tucked up onto the porch swing, curled into Keith’s side. Keith has a big arm over his shoulders, clawed thumb gently brushing his bare arm, as he rocks the swing back and forth. His poofy black hair and fluffy ears brush the low-hanging roof of the porch with every swing.

“Things are gonna be different, now,” Lance murmurs, turning slightly to press a kiss to Keith’s shoulder. Keith is quiet for a while, his only reaction being a slight quirk of his lips, showing the barest hint of crooked incisors and a sharp fang. His smile, coupled with the near reverent way he looks at Lance, makes his whole face look softer.

“Different doesn’t mean bad.”

“No. But it won’t be just you and me.”

Keith shifts, gently guiding Lance upright to sit on his own. Once Lance is no longer leaning on him, Keith ducks his head, pressing an obnoxiously loud kiss to his cheek that startles bright laughter out of Lance.

“It’ll always be you and me, baby,” Keith says, grinning openly now, “only now everyone else gets to see how much I love ya.”

Lance rolls his eyes, trying to seem exasperated, but happiness bleeds off him, so obvious anyone can see.

“Sap.”

Hunk steps away from the window as they start to banter, smiling to himself. He hasn’t seen Lance this happy in a long time.

It’s good to see him smiling like that again.

———

“So,” Pidge says, once they’ve all eaten and are talking a slow walk through the woods since it’s so beautiful out, “there is not a single chance that I will be able to keep this —” she gestures to Keith and Lance as a whole, wiggling her fingers at Keith particularly — “to myself.”

“I mean, you could definitely try,” Lance points out.

“Not gonna happen,” Pidge dismisses. “Aliens are real. I’m tattooing it to my person.”

“I mean, alien is subjective,” Keith mutters, more to himself than anything. “Y’all are the weird ones, out here on your own. Everyone else is pretty chill with each other.”

Lance pats his shoulder.

“Pidge has a bit of a point,” Hunk says, glossing right over that because that’s a lot of information for one weekend. “Your mom calls once a week, dude, and I’m a shitty liar. You know that. Before I could claim plausible deniability, but yesterday I saw more than I ever wanted to see in my life. If Marcela asks me why you’ve been shanked up in your hippy cabin for months I will not be able to choke down the truth.”

“It’s not hippy,” Lance mutters. It’s Keith’s turn to pat him placatingly on the shoulder.

“I mean, we could maybe head back with y’all to the city,” the man — can Hunk call him a man? Is that alien racist? What are the rules here — suggests. “I’ve been wanting to meet your family for a while, so that would work out, right?”

Lance frowns thoughtfully. “I suppose since the cat’s out of the bag…”

Pidge clears her throat, stopping to lean against a tree. “Uh, New York is weird, sure, but not ‘show up with an alien and no one will ask questions’ weird, man.”

Hunk tilts his head. “Actually…”

“Shush, Hunk, I’m trying to make a point.”

“Oh, no, I can just be human for a bit,” Keith assures, as if that’s at all a normal thing to say. “I would have done it for you guys if we knew y’all were coming. I imagine that would have prevented all the screaming.”

Pidge nods thoughtfully. “What the fuck,” she says.

Completely oblivious to — or maybe just uncaring of — her tone, Keith holds up a finger. “Hold on a sec.”

He closes his eyes, and for a moment nothing happens, and then he starts to shimmer, slightly, like the air around him is warping, like light is blurring. It’s hard to conceptualise, so Hunk squints on reflex. When the strangeness starts to settle and Hunk relaxes his face, a regular dude is standing in Keith’s place — significantly shorter than before, although still taller than them all, pale-skinned, with regular human ears and features. His hair is still in its thick black braid, and he still has a scar on his left cheek, but it’s a faint pink instead of purple.

“You’re a regular dude,” Hunk observes. “Damn.”

Lance smirks. “A sexy dude.” He reaches over and squeezes Keith’s ass with the subtlety of a seagull eyeing a young child’s french fry.

“I’m going to go gouge out my eyes with a random stick,” Pidge says pleasantly. Lance snickers at her.

“Make sure it’s poison oak so it hurts more.”

“Make sure you catch these fucking hands, you hippie dweeb.”

“Alright,” Hunk says, clapping his hands before those two can get into it any further. (If they get the chance they’ll argue about nothing for hours, and Hunk would really like to keep his will to live). “Let’s make our way back, okay? Lance can call Marcela and then we’ll head back to the city tomorrow.”

———

The next day, they’re all stuffed into Hunk’s Jeep, speeding down the backroads (safely!) as Mariah Carey plays softly from the speakers, because Hunk has excellent taste. Hunk taps his fingers on the steering wheel, along to Lance’s quiet humming. He catches his best friend’s brown eyes through the rearview mirror and grins. Pidge is turned almost all the way around in the passenger seat, just staring, dead-eyed, unblinking, at Keith.

Keith clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. Hunk can’t blame him. He’s known Pidge for years and years and years, and sometimes her glares still make him sweat, if she stretches them long enough. And she’s been thoughtfully glowering at Keith ever since she woke up enough to use her brain. (They left the cabin at the crack of dawn so they could make it back to the city in good time. Pidge wasn’t happy about it.) She’s just — looking at him, blankly, as she slowly finishes her third pre-prepared travel mug of the nastiest instant coffee known to man, brewed with Red Bull. Lance, who has been trying and failing to ignore her, looks like he’s debating reaching over and closing her eyes for her. He’s glowering right back.

It’s a little funny.

“Is this a human thing?” Keith asks, finally breaking the silence. “The staring?”

“Ha!” Pidge crows, pumping her fist. “I win!”

Lance protests immediately. “No way! He doesn’t know the rules!“

“Fair’s fair,” Pidge says smugly. “He squirmed. He spoke up first. I win. That’s how it does. What, does he get special treatment? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“This game is so dumb,” Lance grumps, but doesn’t argue any further.

“Game?” Keith whispers.

Lance pats him on the thigh. “Inside joke. Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ll explain when Pidge can’t eavesdrop and sabotage our strategy.”

Keith nods seriously, as if that is normal. Hunk grins. Keith’s going to fit in just fine.

“So,” Pidge says, tone still haughty. “Now that I have won, I get one question that you must answer truthfully.”

It’s a stupid game they play. When they’re curious about something, they just start — staring. Wordlessly. At whichever one of them is doing the thing they’re curious about. Whoever breaks first has to answer the question, and you’re not allowed to lie. None of them remember who started it. Or even when it started.

But, to Pidge’s earlier point, the game is sacred. Rules are rules.

“Okay,” Keith says slowly, when Lance fails to explain further. “What’s your question?”

“How are you planning to explain to Marcela why you’ve been hogging her darling youngest son’s attention for six months? I mean, you’re not the worst person anyone has brought to Sunday family dinner. Nothing you could do will ever be worse than the time Marco brought home the girl he met when she stole his car and then she stole his car again while everyone was eating. But, you know. Still. I would have a defense attorney present, personally.”

Hunk catches Lance’s eye in the rear view mirror again, and they both look away hastily to avoid bursting into giggles.

Poor Marco. No one is ever going to let that one go.

But then the rest of Pidge’s frankly pot-stirring question hits, and panic descends upon Keith’s face just as pure annoyance descends upon Lance’s.

“Oh my God, your mother is going to kill me,” Keith breathes.

Lance reaches over and pinches Pidge as hard as he can. She screeches. Hunk rolls his eyes.

“Stop freaking out my boyfriend,” Lance orders.

“Hunk, he pinched me!” Pidge whines.

“You deserved it,” Hunk says easily. That makes Pidge whine louder, because apparently she’s regressed about fifteen years. Hunk strains to hear over the sound of Pidge muttering about all the ways she’s going to get Lance back.

“It’s going to be fine,” Lance tries, rubbing a visibly panicking Keith on the back. “My mother is barely even homicidal. She’s very welcoming.”

“I am more afraid of your mother than NASA,” Keith responds, and Hunk has to stop himself from laughing out loud.

Lance smacks Keith — way gentler than he is capable, Hunk would like to note, Lance can pack a lot of violence into that wiry frame — in the back of the head.

“I can’t believe you’re letting that goober get to you. Pidge is messing with you because of who she is as a person. My mother will be ecstatic to meet you.”

“If you say so,” Keith agrees reluctantly, rubbing the back of his head and pouting.

The rest of the ride passes uneventfully. Pidge refrains from actively freaking Keith out, if only barely, and the four of them alternate between chatting and loudly singing along to Hunk’s excellent assortment of road trip music. By the time they finally enter the hellscape that is New York City roadways, they’re all so tired of being in the car that none of them have the energy to even hum, let alone tease each other.

“We’re two minutes away,” Hunk hears Lance murmur as he pulls into the McClain’s neighbourhood. “Take a breath, mi alma. All will be well.”

Keith flashes a smile at Lance, squeezing his hand. It’s tenser than the one Hunk witnessed yesterday morning, but no less loving, no less trusting.

“Okay.”

Hunk doesn’t even fully pull into the driveway before the front door is thrown open, and several people come rushing out, yelling in a mix of Spanish and English and honestly some words that aren’t language at all, just excitement.

“Tio Lance! Auntie Pidge! Uncle Hunk!”

Sylvio and Nadia are the first to make it over, yanking open the car doors and throwing themselves into the vehicle. Pidge barely manages to prevent Nadia from braining herself on the gear shift. Hunk ruffles her hair fondly, quickly exiting the vehicle and accepting the tight hug from Lance’s father, Miguel, and the myriad of other relatives. Veronica socks him hard on the shoulder, because she is a menace, so Hunk grabs her around the waist and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She yells at him in a way that does not at all hide her fondness.

It’s a ritual.

It’s not until they’re all finally gathered inside, cramped together in couches and armchairs and random places on the floor, that Keith is yanked from the metaphorical shadows.

“Who’s that?” Sylvio asks, pointing at Keith with absolutely zero subtlety. He smirks, looking tauntingly to Lance. “Tu nooooooviooooo?”

Lance looks back haughtily. “He is, actually. So there.”

“Damn. Can’t believe someone that hot managed to put up with you for so long,” Rachel teases immediately. She reaches out a hand to high five the twins. They slap her hand gleefully.

“All of you are horrible,” Marcela admonishes, placing a gentle hand on Lance’s head. Lance looks at her gratefully, then sticks his tongue out at his sister and niblings. “I’m sure Lance worked very hard wearing this poor man down,” she continues with a wry grin, making Lance squawk in betrayal and everyone else laugh. “Don’t discredit his work!”

“Nobody in this house loves me!” he laments, putting a dramatic hand on his forehead.

“I do,” Keith says quietly. Easily.

Hunk has known Lance, and by extension his family, since he was an infant. He’s been near these people as long as he can remember, attending Sunday dinners and birthdays and Christmasses.

Never in his life has he seen them get so quiet so quickly.

Keith is completely oblivious to the silence that has dawned around him. Around them — he has eyes only for Lance, and Lance only for him, like the entire rest of the world is empty except for the two of them. “I love you,” he repeats. Like the words are truer than anything. As true as the sun rising, as the stars twinkling. He says ‘I love you’ like it is objective fact, like there is no possible universe in which Keith does not love Lance.

“Ho-ly shit,” Veronica mutters.

“Holy shit indeed,” Hunk whispers back.

Marcela claps her hands sharply, startling everyone. “Dinner will be ready in a moment,” she says, transparently changing the subject. “All of you, come help set the table.”

———

“So,” says Miguel, once everyone has settled at the table and taken a few moments to stuff their faces — nobody can cook like the McClains. And Sunday family dinners are a serious affair, especially with Lance back for the first time in months. “We got a little caught up, when you all first got here. I don’t believe we were all acquainted?” He looks pointedly at Keith, then at Lance, who hurriedly swallows his bite of food before straightening up.

“This is my boyfriend, Keith,” he says to the table at large. “And Keith, this is my family.” He points to each of them in turn, naming them and giving them a second to wave hello before moving on. “And of course you already know Hunk and Pidge.”

“Believe me, we’re well acquainted,” Pidge mutters, then says “Ow!” when Lance very obviously stomps on her foot under the table. “I’m just kidding, you bully.”

“Hi, everyone,” Keith says awkwardly. He shifts his arms, like he’s not sure if he should wave or what.

Lance takes pity on him, patting him on the arm and speaking up on both of their behalf. “Sorry for not bringing him around sooner. He’s a newcomer, so we’ve been trying to get him situated. He’s a little…out of this world. Culture shock, and all.”

Hunk’s jaw drops. He looks at Lance incredulously — that may have genuinely been the worst pun he has ever heard in his life — and Lance’s mouth is twitching, like he’s fighting off a smirk.

What a shit.

“Oh?” Miguel asks, interest piqued. “Whereabouts are you from, Keith?”

Keith cuts a semi-panicked look at Lance, who just shrugs. “Pick somewhere,” he mutters, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“My, um, my father’s from Texas,” Keith finally manages.

“Hey, cool, I have an ex girlfriend from there,” Veronica says.

“You have an ex girlfriend from everywhere, Lou Vega,” Marco says immediately.

Veronica doesn’t even blink at him. “None of my girlfriends have ever stolen my car twice, though.”

Marco shuts up immediately.

Poor Marco.

Everyone starts dogpiling on Marco immediately, because they always do. (In everyone’s, including Hunk’s, defense, it’s the kind of situation you never come back from). Keith looks relieved at the distraction, happy the conversation has moved from him as everyone chats about everything.

“Hey, Lance, can you pass me the pepper?” Hunk asks, as the rest of the family chatters on.

“Sure.” Lance sets down his fufu, wiping his hands on a napkin and grabbing the pepper shaker. He reaches across Keith to hand it to Hunk.

The next few seconds happen in what feels like slow motion.

Lance’s hands, greasy from handling his food, slip on the smooth glass of the shaker as he tries to hand it off to Hunk. The shaker drops on Keith’s plate, shattering on impact and releasing a cloud of pepper straight into Keith’s face. Keith, obviously, inhales a lungful of it. In his body’s effort to expel the pepper from his lungs, he lets out a great sneeze, so powerful it shakes the table.

So powerful it knocks the human form right out of him, making him huge and purple and fluffy again.

For the second time in his life, Hunk watches the entire McClain clan go completely silent, staring at Keith in total shock.

“Well,” Lance says weakly, making a face that Hunk can only describe as defeated. “I told you he was out of this world.”

[cha-melodius]

Tension Tuesday

Tension Tuesday, you say?? Thanks for the tag @three-drink-amy! Safe to say I have MORE than a few options lmao, I live for tension. Though, amazingly, there's nothing really optimal for sharing from my WIPs at the moment. The brief: Post a scene with tension from either a WIP or a published fic!

Gonna share this moment from near the end of Nova, Baby because I really love how it turned out, just rife with tension. And if you haven't read it but are planning to, don't worry, no real spoilers herein.

The gun dealer he knows here, Diego, is a complete bastard, but he’s never given Alex any reason to think he’d double cross him. At least, not until Alex walks into his pawn shop and finds him looking decidedly nervous. He’s trying to play it cool, of course, but he’s twitchy, sweaty, elevated breathing rate, eyes flitting around like he’s expecting someone to pop out from behind a shelf at any minute. “Alejandro, so good to see you!” he greets Alex, with obvious, put-upon joviality. “Wish I could say the same,” Alex replies as he scours the interior for any sign that he’s about to get jumped. At least for now, they seem to be the only two in the shop. “You need guns, yes? I received your list,” Diego says, still fidgeting as he smiles too broadly. “That is a lot of heat, my friend.” “Do you have them?” “Yes, yes, of course. But they do not come cheap.” Alex stares at him for a long moment, letting Diego squirm under his gaze. “And what was the price of selling me out?” Diego chokes out a fake laugh, but there is real fear in his eyes now. “I’m sure I do not know what you’re talking about. You know my customers are never for sale.” “So it wasn’t money, then,” Alex surmises. It’s not that surprising. Batista is good at hitting people where it hurts. Diego says nothing. “How long do I have?” Alex asks. Out in front of the store, a car door slams. “Better for you if you don’t run,” Diego murmurs. Fat chance of that.

No pressure tags @rmd-writes, @clottedcreamfudge, @celeritas2997, @cricketnationrise, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @indomitable-love, @14carrotghoul, @welcometololaland, @mirilyawrites, @heytheredeann and anyone else who wants to play

[gauloiseblue]

The Man Who Stood By The Ocean

[Finale]

March, 2001

There's a steady sound of the waves crashing through the rocky beach, and you could almost hear the stones softly clashing together. The lone boat near the dock swayed, floating aimlessly on the water. The mooring rope was pulled and pushed, as the vessel got carried away by the sea current.

You've been sitting on the terrace, watching the ocean with a glass of wine. Sadly, you can't watch the sunset, but this place makes up for the grand view of sunrise every morning.

A pair of lips softly pressed on your temple, before someone joined you at the small table. You shifted from your chair as he passed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He leaned in as you reclined, with your head nestled in the curve of his neck. You hummed when he tightened his embrace, basking you in his warmth.

"You're cold, tesoro." He said, and tenderly placed his knuckles against your cheek, "Let's go back inside."

"Not yet." You murmured, "It's so beautiful out here, I just want to stay a little longer."

He chuckled as you snuggled closer, while watching the sky getting darker. "It feels grand, isn't it?" He spoke while he gazed at the horizon, "Whenever I look at it, the world seems so vast, and it's almost frightening."

He pauses, and absentmindedly he strokes the crown of your head. Your brows furrow when you hear his breath is getting softer, almost too soft for you to hear. You lift your head to see his face, and his frown is the first thing that greets you.

"Bruno?" You asked softly as you reached to touch his cheek, "What's wrong?"

He draws a deep breath before he speaks, "...Nothing, I just forgot how beautiful the sea and the sky were." He looked down at you and your eyes met, "In my lonely years, even the thought of seeing them scares me, because I know I'd feel so terribly alone." He tugs the corner of his lips, "But now, with you in my arm, I feel like nothing in this world that I cannot do."

You chuckled at how cheesy it was, but nonetheless, your heart warmed up by his abrupt confession. You understand him, and you understand those feelings perfectly.

"I feel the same way too." You muttered, "I was afraid that... I wouldn't see you again so," You looked up to him as you rested your hand on his shoulder, "Stay with me, don't leave me alone."

He chuckles, "I'm not going anywhere, cara." He kisses the top of your head, "What's the matter?"

"I don't know.." You sigh deeply, "It's just... sometimes I feel like you're gonna go far away from me, far away from my reach."

He was silent for a moment, fear begins to grip on your heart.

"Bruno?"

"Cara." He calls you, "I won't leave you again, so please don't say that."

"Promise me?" You asked, "Promise me you will stay by my side?"

There's a particular emotion on his face when you look at him, and it somewhat reminds you of a dying fire. Why does he look sad?

You reached your hand to touch his face, and he closed his eyes as he felt your warm touch. After a few beats of silence, he answered.

"I promise."

—

"What do you mean right now?" He shouted to the phone.

You quietly munch on your food as you hear a little bit of the conversation. Although he promised you that today would be just the two of you, you feel like his work got between the two of you again.

"Dammit," He sighs heavily, "... Alright, I'll meet you at Libeccio."

He then hangs up the phone.

When he went back to the table, he explained to you that he had to leave. There's a serious problem that he has to take care of, and he isn't sure how long it'll take for him to solve it.

"Okay." You plainly replied, "Be careful."

"I'm sorry cara, I'll make it up to you tonight." He took your hand into his, and you could feel his guilt through his touch. "I'll be back soon, do you want any cake from Libeccio? I can bring it home."

"Don't worry about me." You gave his hand a squeeze, "Go help them, it's urgent isn't it?"

He frowns, "It is, but—"

"I'll be fine, Bruno." You cut his words off as you smile, "Just come home soon."

"I will, cara." He moves closer to you to kiss your cheek, "I love you."

"Love you too."

You let him kiss your lips before he gets up, leaving you alone at the table. You watched his back as he went through the door, he looked back at you and he smiled. Suddenly, he feels so far away.

—

"Oh my," She giggles as she admires the colorful bouquet, "They're so beautiful. Thank you (Y/N)."

You gave her a subtle grin as you watched her caress the petals. Even though her face looks awfully tired, she still has a cheerful tone in her voice.

"She looks like an angel, (F/N)." You murmured as you carefully held her baby. The little girl in your arms sleeps soundly, seems unbothered by your nervousness. (F/N) had insisted you to hold the baby, and she couldn't take 'no' from you.

She laughed, "Davvero (Y/N)? Relax." (Really (Y/N)?) She puts the flowers aside and reaches out to take her baby, "You're so stiff, like a grandma." She said as she hushed her baby back to sleep, "How are you gonna hold your own baby in the future?

"(F/N)," You sighed, "I'm not even married yet."

"But you should consider it sooner," She giggled, "I bet your loving boyfriend can hardly wait to marry you."

You shook your head, "It's too soon, I have just started working." You replied, "Besides, it's an outdated belief that we should get married ASAP."

She pouts, disagreement is written all over her face. "Poor Bruno, he'll have to wait until his hair turns grey to finally have a child."

"(F/N)." You roll your eyes, "Giuro su Dio, you're even worse than my grandma." (I swear to God)

"I'm serious, (Y/N)." She said in a serious tone, "It's so obvious to everyone that he wants to marry you, it's just you who's completely clueless about that."

"It's not like that—" Your words were cut as both of you heard the door open, before a familiar face came into the room.

"Pino, amore." Your friend greeted her husband as he walked closer. He quickly places a kiss on her forehead, then he turns to greet you.

"Ciao (Y/N).

"Ciao Giuseppe." You smiled.

"Uh, thanks for coming," He muttered while he rubbed the nape of his neck, "(F/N) has been dying to see you since she first arrived at the hospital."

"Don't worry, I was planning to pay a visit anyway." You said, "I think I won't stay for too long, (F/N) needs to rest."

"Oh, no, stay a little longer (Y/N)." She insisted, "I still missed you, it's been a while since you visited us. Nonno Enrico also missed you, you should come to the bookstore tomorrow."

"Get some rest, (F/N)." You got up before you placed a kiss on her cheek, "I'll visit you tomorrow again, I'll bring your favorite food if you want."

"Oh please do," She groans, "The hospital food in here is so bland, I can't even taste any bit of salt in it."

"I'll keep it in mind," You chuckled, "See you tomorrow (F/N), Giuseppe."

Your friend insists that he'll accompany you to the hospital lobby, but you refuse, so he'll only walk you to the door.

"Thanks, Giuseppe." You said when he opened the door for you, "Congratulations for having your first baby once again."

He blushes before he clears his throat, "Yeah, thank you. Please come and visit us again tomorrow."

You nodded as you smiled.

Before you could turn around and leave, Giuseppe called you again, seeming to remember something.

"I think I saw Bruno walked into a room at the end of the corridor when I arrived, did you come with him?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "No, did you really see him?"

"Yes, I saw his face. He looked so serious, I wonder who he visited."

It was weird, but you shook it off before your expression could change, "Maybe he visited an old friend." You pondered, "Anyway, see you tomorrow."

"A domani (Y/N)," He replied, "Be careful on your way home."

You waved to your friend and he waved back, you watched him get inside the room before you walked to the end of the corridor. Isn't he supposed to be in the Libeccio? Who is he visiting?

The hallway is empty, and the only sound that you hear is your own step. You slowed down to reduce the sound of your heels, so it's more quiet and subtle.

At the end of the hall, there's an emergency exit with a red door. You look at the room on your left before you turn to the opposite. The other room is empty, but in this room, you see the name on the small slot, 'Luca'.

The small window on the door is closed by a curtain, but there's a small gap where you can see the room if you peek closely. The thought of being silly crossed your mind, but your suspicion is stronger. You always knew that he held something from you, and you wanted to find out.

As you lean into the door, you see a small picture of the room. On the bed, there's a red haired man lying, and he's surrounded by many medical devices. It's clear that he's in a critical condition, as he has a tube inside his mouth. Besides his bed, you see the familiar man sitting by his side. His eyes were darkened by the shadow of his hair, and you could see him holding a folder.

He then picks up something from the folder, which looks like a piece of a photograph. He then places it inside his pocket, and closes the file.

When he got up, he looked at the man before he said something. You couldn't hear it, but it wouldn't matter as he suddenly lifted the man's hand.

You couldn't believe your eyes, as you saw the man's fingers fall out from his hand, like there was a knife cutting the fingers in a speed that no one could see with bare eyes. He then opens the man's eye before the eye rolls out from his face, your body freeze as you see him calmly picks up the body parts and shoves it into his pocket.

You shrieked involuntarily when his head snapped towards the door, and you knew you had to get out.

With a sudden rush of adrenaline, you sprint out from there, like a deer running away from a lion. You didn't care for the noises that your heels made, you just wanted to get away.

When you heard him shout your name, you knew he had seen you.

—

You could feel the look of concern from your mother, as you stared out from the window. It's been a few days since you suddenly went home, crying and shaking, but no explanation was given to your parents.Your father almost went to see Bruno, to 'talk' to him, but you stopped him. You said it's not his fault, and he did nothing wrong, but seeing you in that state must've cast doubt in your parents' mind.

There's a pile of letters on your desk that you left unopened, but you knew the sender. Sometimes, you wanted to read the letter, but fear drove your hand away from the envelopes.

It was until the man himself showed up in front of the door.

After a week of silence, you finally felt strong enough to face him. After all, you need to hear some explanation from him.

In the front yard of your house, the two of you sat at the garden table with a cup of tea your mother made. You look at him, and you can tell that he barely had enough sleep. His face is pale, and there's a shade of dark under his eyes.

The two of you were quiet for some time, but he finally spoke. You listen to him without question, and there's not a single word that you leave out. He admits that he didn't work in the Libeccio, but he is, in fact, a part of a mafia. He was assigned to the area around Libeccio, and the restaurant is the place where the clients could find him.

He explains everything, without leaving anything behind. From the reason why he disappeared years ago, and why he came back to town. He said that he didn't want you to see him again, as he saw you with signore Enrico and his grandson. He knew Giuseppe could replace him, but when he saw you on the dock, he couldn't bear to leave you.

The strange incident in the hospital was a work of something called 'stand', and he said that it's too complicated to explain. So he told you that he could cut and fuse everything together, and he proved it by showing you how easy he could cut the cup into two. It was a clean cut, before the cup became whole again, as if it was never sliced. It was hard for you to swallow, but you'll take as it is.

"I have to go on a long journey tomorrow, (Y/N)." He started, "I don't know when I will be back, or even if I'll be back at all."

You didn't say anything as he continued,

"So I'll leave the house to you and everything inside, it's all yours. I bought it under your name, so it's clear from the mafia ties. If you don't want it, you can sell it. Every document you'll need is inside the safe box, and you know the combination."

He stood up and straightened up his suit.

"I guess this is goodbye, (Y/N). I don't want to put you in danger anymore, and I hope you'll have a good life without me."

You watched him walk away before you shouted "Wait!"

He turns his head, and realization hits you that you might never see him again.

Don't leave me, I love you.

"Be careful Bruno." Come home to me soon

He smiles as he says, "I will, cara."

You couldn't say it to him.

—

On a cold Sunday, you walk down to the familiar street before you turn to the neighborhood that you know so well. The house that you've lived in before is unkempt, as the weed grew taller. You step into the property, and unlock the front door.

As you step into the house, you see everything is still in the same place as you remember. The coffee table with your favorite magazines, the painting of Santa Marie De' Bardi, the old radio. When you pressed a button on the radio, the song from The Essential of Glenn Miller played. The Moonlight Serenade glided in the air, and you swore you could see two figures swayed in the room.

There's a thin layer of dust on the dining table, and the chairs are neatly tucked under the table.

You walk further inside the house, and into the bedroom. That's when you know some items are missing.

The bottle of perfume that sat beside yours is gone, and you suspect that there's more items that aren't here anymore.

Bruno's wardrobe was empty, and you couldn't find any piece of his clothes. But the smell of his clothing remains, as if the ghost from the past refuses to disappear.

On the lowest shelf in his wardrobe, there's a black safe boxbox, waiting to be opened. You pull it out and place it on the bed, the box sinks into the soft mattress.

You begin to put the number combinations in, 0 - 3 - 1 - 9 - 9 - 7

Click.

The box opened without resistance when you pulled the handle, revealing the brown papers and a small box inside.

Your eyes were widened before your face twisted in disbelief, "No..." You whispered.

The velvet box sat there quietly, before your trembling hand reached to hold it. You always hoped that Bruno hid a small box somewhere in the house, and someday, without you having any clue, he'll drop on his knee and he'll open the box in front of you.

As the cap popped open, you saw the gleaming rock on top of the ring. It has an intricate design, and when you lift it from the cushion, you see two initials written on the inner band.

After days of dread and silence, you finally broke into tears. You clutch the ring into your chest and bury your face into the mattress. His name falls from your lips like a chant, but no matter what, you know it won't bring him back to you.

—

You started to live in the house again, and you tried to get back to what you used to. You'll often clean the house thoroughly, and sometimes you'll learn some recipes from the cookbook that you bought.

And you began to ask around about his whereabouts, but you couldn't find a single clue about it. It was until you asked the owner of Libeccio, and he said that he left to Capri a few days ago.

It was the last information that you knew about him, he just seemed to vanish into thin air.

There was also a news about a powerful gang member that died in prison, and the cause of death is most likely suicide. You wondered if it has something to do with Bruno's disappearance.

As you arrived back at home, a thought suddenly came to your mind. The letter! Your parents had sent you a letter from him days ago, but you placed it inside the safe box and forgot about it because you were too occupied by your regrets.

You ran into the room and opened the safe box in hurry, the letter is buried beneath all of the document files. There's an address written on the envelope, and it's your parent's home address.

You carefully tear up the envelope and take out the content inside, it's a two-pages letter.

The paper that he used is longer than the usual size, and it's full of scribbled words. You unfolded the paper and began to read the letter.

In the letter, he said that he met a young boy who planned to overthrow the don of the organization. He saw his dream in this person and decided to help him, which means he'll become a traitor and will be treated as an outlaw. He'll be in constant danger, and it's uncertain whether he'll survive or not. It's better for him not to drag you with him, and so he won't leave any message for you anymore. At the end of the letter, he wrote, "Even when you knew what kind of monster I've become, I hope you believe that I loved you, and I still do."

As you read the letter for the second time, the words become more and more blurry as you begin to lose your focus. For the third time, you stopped reading the letter halfway through.

—

Although it's no longer true that the soul has no weight, you could feel something is no longer here, inside your chest. Each day, your body is getting heavier to carry around, and the gravity around you feels like it could crush your bones.

You keep thinking that, if you're brave enough to say that you love him and you want to be with him, maybe, just maybe, there's a small grain of chance that he'll stay with you. The two of you could always start again, rebuild everything from the ground. But you weren't brave enough.

The wines have become your friends at night, the one that comforts you to sleep. Empty bottles of wine begin to pile up by your bed, and the glass on your nightstand is always filled with red alcohol.

In the morning, you'll stare at the ceiling and let yourself get lost in time. You begin to realize that there's a small stain on your ceiling, and the uneven texture at some parts.

Sometimes you'll sleep again for the rest of the day, your head is killing you, and the best way to make it stop is by sleeping. Usually, you'll dream about nothingness, just a vast darkness. But sometimes you'll see yourself and Bruno in an old movie, you can't hear anything and the background is often blurred, but you could see his face clearly.

Then in one of your dreams, you saw him walking through a dark corridor before something hit him from behind. The blood was everywhere, and soon the ground swallowed him whole. You woke up in cold sweat, and you swore it wasn't a dream.

You cried again that night, and exhaustion lulled you back to sleep. By the next morning, you felt a dreadful pain inside your chest. You couldn't shake the image of him in your dream, it was so vivid, as if you really witnessed him that night.

Strange dreams begin to plague your sleep, so much so that you decided to stay awake for God knows how long. You wander around the town to buy some food, and a cup of bitter coffee. You must've looked awful, that the owner of the cafe gave you a free refill.

You visited Libeccio in hope that there's news about Bruno, but the old man shook his head. No news, nothing.

When you came back to home, you absent-mindedly reached for the wine bottle and brought it to your lips. The bittersweet taste of the alcohol hits your tongue as you drink down the liquid. As you emptied the bottle, you laid down on the loveseat.

You closed your eyes, and you plunged into the vast emptiness.

—

Maybe it was dawn when you woke up since everything was still dark, but you weren't sure. Slowly, you got up from the seat and searched for the wine bottle, but it wasn't there. You frowned, but you didn't mind as you walked out to the kitchen.

Both of your feet are heavy, as if you're walking on a muddy swamp. You could see the hallway stretch itself, and the doors keep multiplying. Were you dreaming?

You keep walking through the confusing maze, but when you arrive at the dining room, you decide to go to the terrace.

When you opened the door, a blinding light greeted you. You winced as you placed your hand in front of your eyes to block the light, and slowly your eyes began to adjust.

At the end of the dock, you saw a man in a golden hue. The sky in front of you was bright, and the clouds seemed to reflect the sunlight.

The man was looking to the horizon before he turned to you, even in this hazy vision, you could recognize his face right away.

"Bruno." You sobbed as you walked closer to the dock.

The man smiles, and he calls your name in a loving manner. Your body is responding to his call as you can feel your steps become lighter.

"You're back." You repeated, "You're finally back."

He stares at you lovingly before he speaks,

"I'm home, cara."

And you run into his arm.

[kariachi]

Some fanfic! More necromancer au stuff, this time set after Enemy of My Frenemy.

Kevin died and shit has to be done about it.

~~

There was a practiced ease to Kevin’s wardings anymore. He remembered the first one with what was almost too much clarity- how slowly everything had gone as Argit checked diagrams and played back audio files of books he couldn’t read. The mechanical repetition of ‘the fire will be safe’. Kevin using his powers to take in oxygen, worried even the movement of breathing might fuck something up. The undercurrent of desperation beneath every heartbeat between them.

Anymore it was nearly old hat.

“-and I told them, you know I told them!”

“I know you told them.”

“But do they listen? No, of course not! ‘That Kevin, he’s just being an asshole again’, and what happens?”

“You die on me.”

“I die on you!” As always aggravation and worry practically rolled off Argit as he worked, tracing runes along Kevin’s body in liver, blood, and whatever other bits and pieces the magic needed. Kevin didn’t pay attention anymore, whatever else went on between them, he trusted him with this. After all, this was far from their first rodeo, and he took warding him very seriously. “You know they’re trying to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Really-” Argit rolled his eyes as he spoke, one ear twitching in its spot against his mane. “-can’t imagine why anyone would do that.”

“Hush it.” Kevin didn’t sock his arm like he would have normally, but they both knew it was there in spirit. “I get it, I really do, I just coulda done with an apology before they went all ‘nothing happened everything is fine’ mode.”

“You’re too good to them, this needs more than an apology.”

“It’s rough on them. I mean, G watched me get murdered in front of her-”

“Only because she dragged you out there in the first place.” Huffing, Argit caught his jaw in one hand, drawing out the sharp angles Erinaens only put into their magic over the major lines of Kevin’s face. “If I thought I could without commanding her I’d be using her blood in this rather than mine.”

“You’re gonna hold this against her forever, aren’t you?”

“If she lives that long.” With a sigh and smile despite himself, Kevin reached up to stroke his fingers over one of Argit’s ears.

“Slow deep breathes, man. She’s already suffering.” He let Argit tilt his head up- he may have been stronger than he looked but there was no way he was moving Kevin if he didn’t want it- and sighed as he pressed his nose up beneath his jaw. They stayed like that for a long moment, fingers at ears and nose at throat, before Argit sighed.

“This is the third time you’ve died on me, Ravrsa.” A near whine came unbidden to Kevin’s throat.

“I try not to. I promised I would, remember?”

“I know.” With a brief nuzzle, Argit pulled away and went back to his finishing touches. The two sat in a familiar silence as he got the runes on Kevin’s face the way he wanted them, checked every marked inch of bare skin to ensure everything was perfect. Did a quick check of the more complex diagrams he was working off now. Every time something with magic or death happened to Kevin, he went for something more intricate, that took more power, and would make him harder to hurt.

“We about good,” Kevin asked with all the calm of somebody who had been in this exact position what was now seven times as the final check went by with affirmative sounding murmurs.

“Yeah.” With each moment that passed Argit’s ears came further off his mane and his quills smoothed. “Yeah, you ready?” With a deep breath and a bit of shifting, Kevin centered himself. Magic could be just as… fun, as any other type of energy, and it took effort to let it pass over and through him without reaching for it. When he was acting as a conduit, when it went through and out, was one thing, but when it was staying… This would be his first warding since he fell off the wagon and he would need to keep a tight grip on himself.

“Ready.” Argit gave him a sharp look over for any sign of weakness, then chattered an affirmative. Kevin closed his eyes as he laid a hand on the runes, keenly aware as magic began to pour into them.

All magic, all life energy, felt different from the electricity he’d long been used to, a steady, flowing thing in counter to manic crackling, not as tempting but easier to take in. Electricity yearned, it leapt into your arms and begged to be set loose. Kevin didn’t discuss such matters with Gwen, no matter what she wanted they weren’t that close yet, but with Argit he had described it as a wild thing, a beast that heeded his call yet always strained to break loose even as it jumped to his every order. But magic, magic knew where it was going, and it went with a smooth and steady grace that belied its power. It washed over you, sunk into you before you’d even realized, needed that bit more strain to divert it from its path and to follow orders.

And he wasn’t ashamed to admit that Argit’s was his favorite, even ahead of his own.

His magic was a constant flowing stream beneath his flesh, a constant presence that brought comfort as much as it kept his nerves aware of the power he wouldn’t take. Charmcaster’s magic had been like standing in the shallows of the coast, feeling the waves crash around your calves, around his mind, and she had kept it neatly tucked away like Argit and his mom. That one had been like standing in a whirlpool, swaying in circles as he was made to do as she commanded. The Fulmini, his had been like a river washing him away, and the Citrakayah’s had been like gazing up from the bottom of a pool.

The Anodites didn’t bother hiding anything, he didn’t know if they even realized they didn’t, and just being around them was a test of his resolve. Every minute with Gwen, much as he loved her, was rain falling on and through his skin and begging him to let it soak into his bones. Sunny had been the same way and their grandma had been worse. Legerdomain had been like dissolving into the ocean, intense, overwhelming, trying to make him part of itself and itself part of him.

Argit’s was a whirlpool, and Kevin had to wonder if such similarities were tied to families or the type of magic, large enough for him to rest comfortably in the center as the walls rose high around him. He was stronger than his mom, for all he refused to acknowledge what he was capable of outside of times like this. Stronger, and his magic flowed in time with Kevin’s own in a way that nobody else’s had. It was, supposedly, part of being a familiar, and why they could play off each other’s power well enough for him to fill the role. All he knew for sure was that it felt nearly like a part of him, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from reaching out to take it in, to pull more and more beneath his skin, to savor it like he was sinking in his teeth.

Vaguely he was aware of Argit’s hand coming up to massage his shoulder, of soothing words that meant nothing but a thing for him to drop his head to the side on, to rub his cheek on thin skin. Argit chuckled, brushed his knuckles over his cheek before his hand dropped away. There was a click, and heat that crooned to settle in his gut and stay forever. Kevin kept himself in line though, ignored the siren song as it burnt the magic down to cinders settling through him, forming a second skin over every nook and cranny of his being.

The whole thing wouldn’t have taken more than a minute, but it felt like the best kind of hour.

Kevin took another deep breath as Argit carded a hand through his hair, slowly and blearily opening his eyes. Argit was tired, a major ward for his best disaster, but his eyes were bright, mane smooth, ears upright. A favorite look, one that screamed Safety in his head. They shared a grin, and Argit leaned in to press his nose under the corner of his jaw.

“That,” he said, “is the second strongest ward I’ve been able to get my hands on. Anyone gets through that and the next up’ll turn anyone who magicks you into a smear.” Snorting, Kevin flashed his teeth as he pulled away.

“Thanks, Hedgehog.” With something almost a purr, Argit slipped a lock of hair behind Kevin’s ear before stepping away and tossing him back his clothes.

“Anything for you, buddy,” he said as Kevin laughed and started yanking shit on. “Now we just need to get your little jackasses set before someone gets hurt. Again.”

[green-socks]

What More Could I Ever Need chapter 4

Pairing: Benny Miller x F!reader (Tangled AU)

Summary: Tangled AU where Benny is in the role of Rapunzel (without the hair thing) and reader is basically a female Flynn Rider. This chapter focuses on our two main heroes. More trouble follows, and then they're kinda in their feels about everything.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: none really.

Notes: Today is the one year anniversary of when I posted the first part of this fic! Sorry for not updating in *mumbles* months, but I wanna say a thank you to the people who recently read this old story and told me how much they were enjoying it, which reminded me that I, too, enjoy it a lot actually, and that it was worth getting back to asap! Which I did, and just in time for this anniversary, so yay!! Seriously, people who read and comment (esp. on older fics) are magic. I have felt it. It is magical. Thank you.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

”Thanks for speaking up for me back there. What you said was really nice,” Benny said after they had trudged on in silence for a long while.

“Oh, that was nothing! And really, you’re the one who stopped them from hauling me out of there, so I should be thanking you for what you did for me.”

The boy’s earnestness seemed to be rubbing off on you. It was honestly a little flustering.

 “So.. thanks,” you half-smiled at him awkwardly.

“Don’t mention it. But why was your face on that poster anyway? What did you steal?”

“Sorry, Goldilocks, we're not gonna go there right now. If you want me to take you to the lantern festival, it’s better if you know as little about me as possible, for your own good.”

Benny looked at you for a couple of beats too long, before murmuring, “I’m not sure that’s true.”

Your mouth opened in a soft O, but you had no response to that.

Instead, you pushed to move the conversation away from yourself. “Tell me more about this weird thing you have about the lanterns. Why do you want to see them so bad? And how come you’ve never gone before?

“Uh.. Well.. Um,” Benny stuttered. “There’s this thing… Well, the world is a very dangerous place for me, and my mother has had to keep me safe.”

“Safe from what? Why are you in danger?”

And why did you feel the need to protect him?

Suddenly that was the least of your concerns however, when you heard noises coming from behind you. You had no idea how far they were, since everything was echo-y in the cave, but it quickly became apparent that your chasers had found the trapdoor and were after you.

“Shit! Run, Benny, we gotta go now!”

Not needing to be told twice, he took off at a run, his long legs carrying him even faster than you were able to go.

“There’s light ahead! Do you know where this tunnel lets out?” he yelled, panicked.

“No! Keep running!”

You burst out of the tunnel into glaring afternoon sunlight, blinding you after the near total darkness of the tunnel. It was made worse by the glimmering water of the small waterfall below you.

Well, the next move was pretty clear to you. You’d have to jump, and hopefully you wouldn’t die.

Great.

“Benny, we have to jump. Ready?”

“What?! No!?”

“If you want to make it to the lanterns alive, I’d take your chances with the drop rather than the soldiers on our tail!” you shouted, feeling a little hysterical.

You jumped, not even turning to see if Benny followed you or not.

--------

“Ronia, no!”

But you were already hurtling toward the surface of the river, and there was nothing Benny could do.

He was still trying to find the courage to jump, knowing there was no other way down but not liking the idea one bit (he didn’t even know how to swim!), but again, suddenly his problems multiplied when the first soldier chasing them burst onto the small cliff.

While the soldier tried to adjust to the sudden change in lighting, Benny didn’t stop to think. And it’s a good thing he didn’t, because he never would have done any of the following things otherwise.

He punched the soldier. Right in the face.

And then he, too, jumped.

-

It turned out he needn’t have worried about not knowing how to swim, because the current was so strong, there was no way do anything but just drift wherever it took you. Fortunately for him, there had been some logs at the bottom of the waterfall, which he had latched on to.

Mouse was panicked out of her little mind and crawled on top of his head to stay out of the water, her sharp nails digging into his skin.

He couldn’t tell how long it had been, but eventually the current slowed down and the water became shallow enough that he could wade his way onto the riverbank.

But you were nowhere in sight.

“Ronia? Where are you?” he yelled. “Ronia!”

Benny begged you were okay. It would be all his fault if something had happened to you. Terror was building in his chest again. How could he ever even find you? He had no idea where he was, or how to find you. But he would find you. He couldn’t bear to think you hadn’t made it to the shore. You had to be here somewhere. Had to.

Where should he even start to look? He felt tears of frustration and desperation leaking from his eyes, and he knew his mother would have told him he was being too sensitive and that crying never helped anything. Trying to collect himself, he looked to Mouse.

Who also wasn’t there.

Before he could completely break down, the raccoon let out a lout screechy noise, and Benny noticed her running off a little ways back upstream, through some bushes.

“Mouse! Where’re you going! Come back!”

He took off at a run and quickly gained on the little creature, but it also soon became apparent where she was headed.

Under a secluded tree, hidden in the shade, was you. Mouse had smelled you, probably, he didn’t know, but he picked his little friend up and gave her a big kiss. “Good job, Mouse!”

“Ronia! It’s me, it’s us!”

You turned to look at them, but your whole demeanor was weary, and you looked like you’d been crying too.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Benny immediately felt the relief from seeing you flood right back out.

“My stupid ankle, I sprained my stupid ankle,” you sniffed. “You have to leave me here; I’ll never make it to the town and to the festival in time like this. I can’t even stand.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, it must hurt terribly. But it’s okay, I’m not going to leave you here,” Benny reassured you. This was easily mendable, even. This was the one thing he could do.

“Don’t be stupid, you have to. I know you’re strong but you’re not strong enough that you could carry me all the way to town before tomorrow evening. I’ll be fine.”

“Now who’s being stupid? You obviously won’t be fine like that alone in the forest. Will you just let me help?”

Mouse already knew what was coming, because she had settled onto the ground and rubbed her paws together in anticipation. She always was his biggest fan.

“Settle down, silly girl,” he said to Mouse, before crouching down next to you. “I’ll need to put my hand on your ankle. Can I do that?” he asked you calmly.

You seemed confused and a little irritated. “W– Yeah, okay, whatever.”

“Now, please don’t be alarmed. I will sing, and you will feel better, you’ll see.”

You looked like you wanted to argue, but he needed silence so he could concentrate. “Shhh, it’s okay. I got you.”

He laid his hand on your swollen ankle as carefully as he could and started to sing. He could feel the powerful rush inside him, which told him it was working. It felt the same as sunlight on your skin on a warm day, but just inside him, as if under his skin.

--------

What. The. Fuck.

 This– This golden-haired angel was singing to you, or your leg, whatever, and the swelling started going down almost immediately. The pain subsided.

Seriously, what was happening.

Actually, your whole body felt better than it had in ages. No aching muscles. No blisters on your toes. Even that annoying mosquito bite didn’t itch anymore.

And the boy in front of you sang beautifully. His low voice felt like the most soothing bath, or what you imagined a soothing bath would feel like, had you ever been granted such a luxury. His golden hair seemed even more golden than usual. And his warm, large hands were cradling your ankle – ankle – more delicately than you think anyone had ever touched in your life.

You realized you were blinking away tears when he stopped, and gently twisted your ankle this way and that, testing its movement.

“How does it feel now?” he asked softly.

“G-good. It feels good. Thank you,” you croaked.

“You’re welcome.”

You tried to not let your disappointment show on your face when he let go of your leg and his touch left your skin.

“Wha– What was that?” you whispered.

“It’s.. what I do,” Benny shrugged. “I don’t know why, or how exactly, but I know when I sing, I can heal people. And animals. Make them feel better. I’ve been doing it since I was a baby, my mother tells me. I don’t know very many songs, but I’ve been making up my own too. I like to sing, not just when I use it to heal.”

He said all this very shyly, very quietly.

“Is this why you never left that tower?”

“Yes. My mother said people tried to hurt me when I was a baby, because they were jealous of my gift, so she took me to safety, where no one could find me and take advantage of me.”

“Oh,” you breathed, “I’m sorry, Benny. That must have been difficult.”

 “It’s alright, Ronia,” he smiled.

You grimaced.

“That’s.. not my real name,” you confessed.

“It’s not? What is you real name then?”

Benny didn’t seem angry, he just seemed curious. Ready to listen. So, you spilled you guts to him, all about your real name, about how you grew up in the orphanage and read stories to the younger kids every night. How your favorite book had been Ronia the Robber’s Daughter, and how the heroine in that had seemed so much braver than you ever felt, so you had adopted the name when you left the orphanage, changed scenery completely, and never looked back. The thieving was just to stay alive at first, but since you were already a Robber’s Daughter… It seemed like you had nothing to lose.

You finish your sad little story to find Benny looking at you with understanding eyes.

“That must have been very lonely,” he said quietly. "But for whatever it's worth, I like your real name a lot too."

You only nodded. You were done with speaking for the night, but Benny seemed to understand. He settled down next to you in the grass, and let you lean your head against his shoulder. You fell asleep like that.

--------

outside the tavern, a couple of hours earlier

Two parties, both very interested in finding the two rogues on the run, met outside the tavern where it all had gone down. Both parties realized they had arrived too late, and that the thief and the boy were already far away.

But Dagmar wasn’t too concerned about that. She knew where the boy was headed, and that information proved useful to the two burly guys, hell-bent on getting revenge “on that little bitch Ronia for stealing that crown from us”. Dagmar wasn’t even interested in the crown in the slightest, which delighted the twins tremendously. But she did promise them that in exchange for their help in doing the dirty work, she could offer them something worth more than they could ever imagine. The boy.

The twins were stupid, but evil enough to agree. A bargain was struck, and Dagmar felt better than she had all day. She had a plan now.

---------------------------------------------

tagsies: @writeforfandoms @starlightmornings @fangirl-316 @a-reader-and-a-writer @idreamofboobear @miraclesabound @thetypewriterimproviser @sgnjimmy @jediknight122 @lorosette @igotmajordaddyissues @marvelousmermaid @lorecraft @hopeamarsu @mermaidxatxheart

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Recovery Isn't Instant (Fic Part 178. Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places. Please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @tantamount-treason @piratewithvigor @thedollmaker16

Reference Posts: ‘Giantess’/‘Blacklight Bandit’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ’Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

"I forgive you, but… why do you always assume the worst about me?" He asks softly.

"Because I am too used to having the people I love turn out to be horrible and abusive, Shane, the only time I dated a woman she smashed my head into a wall. The less said abut Erik, the better and the last person I was with before you locked me in a room and almost starved me to death," Kirby pauses, cautiously approaching Helms and putting her head on his shoulder, "I know you aren't like that, but my ability to trust anyone has been ruined by those who came before you."

He sighs softly, "I know. I know it'll take time for you to recover from everything you've been through. And it isn't fair for me to rush you through the recovery."

"I want to be okay, I want to be able to hold my daughter and know that nothing bad will happen to her if I let anyone else touch her, I want to have sex with my husband and not feel like he isn't thinking about me when we're making love."

"I'll work every day to keep helping you recover." He assures softly.

"I just want to lay on the couch, with my husband making sure the baby is okay and relaxing, I could eat a whole tub of ice cream while watching The Princess Bride and have that be all we do today and I'd be fine. Today is a one out of ten, definitely not a ten outta ten."

"That does sound nice…"

"I'll tell you how I feel every day, mon ange, if it's above five then it's good, lower than five is bad." Kirby murmurs as she nuzzles into his neck.

"I appreciate that."

"A zero means don't leave me until I'm at a one at the very least… if I go near Shannon right now, I'll be at zero."

"Let's get you inside. Set up on the couch and we'll start the movie up and I'll tell Shannon to keep his distance today."

"I love you, my green goofball." Kirby whispers as she walks back into the house and instantly goes to grab a tub of ice cream from the freezer and two spoons before heading to the TV room.

"I'm gonna go talk to him, okay? No touching or anything else."

Kirby nods, pulling Helms into a gentle kiss before letting him go. When he enters the room, Shannon's sitting upright, flipping through the opening few pictures of his photo album and sipping directly from a bottle of bourbon.

"Been nursing that long?" Shane asks, sitting beside him.

"Yeah. Keep wanting to just chug this bastard and pass out."

"You know that's not smart."

"Neither has anything else I've done today."

"It's Christmas. People are allowed to be stupid on Christmas."

"I just…" He sighs and takes a swig, "I don't know how you put up with it. With her mood swings. I promised her that I wasn't going to act on anything and that it wouldn't change anything and that it wouldn't change anything about what we were doing, but she decided on what I meant and ran before I could explain myself."

"Pregnancy definitely made her hormones all out of whack."

"I've seen pregnant girls before. I've known traumatized girls. Hell, I've encountered traumatized pregnant girls. She's moodier than all of them."

"They're not all the same."

"I know they're not. I'm just asking if you're sure she's the one you want to be with for your entire life. A girl who runs you ragged with stress because you're worried one wrong word and you'll find her taking a bath with a toaster."

"I'm with her because I love her. I want to support her through all of the mood swings. I want to see her recover. Recovery isn't instant."

"Just checking. If you said anything else, I was gonna kick your ass for leading her on."

"She wants the rest of the day to be just me and her. Maybe she'll change her mind, but until then, you okay staying up here?"

"Yeah, I'll stay out of the way. Just apologize to her for me, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Kirby takes a deep breath, followed by several other deep breaths as she struggles to maintain her composure, rubbing her hands over the baby bump just to keep herself grounded and turning off her phone as she sets everything up to be perfect. Helms is tempted to kiss him, but keeps his promise to Kirby and walks out without, returning to the TV room. Shannon sighs as he watches Helms leave, still unable to comprehend how he manages to stay with Kirby when she acts the way she does. Kirby's breathing hitches slightly as she takes yet another deep breath, wiping away tears from her eyes as she sees Helms. He sits down beside her, kissing her gently.

"Hey, Shane… I'm okay, just trying to keep calm and not have a total meltdown."

"I didn't touch him. He didn't touch me. He'll stay away for the day. I know that doesn't take away all of your worries, but I do hope it helps."

"It helps slightly, can't help but think Shannon doesn't understand just how bad the mood swings can be when you're still recovering from years of abuse and grief."

"I don't think he understands either, but you also haven't told him everything. He's calling like he sees, without any context. I'm not defending what he said, because it wasn't fair to you for him to say so, but you also haven't given him any reason to understand differently. You don't have to, of course, but you also can't get mad at him for it."

"I don't want him, or you, to know everything they did to me, all the times I was stomped on or slapped, or slammed into a wall, every bone they broke or about the times Erik nearly choked me to death in the room next door to my own cousins, I don't want you to know all the ways I was abused because I don't want you to get worried about me."

"I'll always worry. I just… you have to give to get, you know what I'm saying? I can't help you recover if I don't know what you're recovering from. I can't understand until you let me. It's not fair, but there's no other way around it. All I can do in the meantime is my best."

"Shane, if I start with what Erik did, we would be here for five years just from me listing all the physical, psychological and emotional abuse he put me through."

"I know… and maybe five years is what it'll take. But I'm willing to put in the effort to help you if you're willing to go through it again, to get it all out in the open."

"Erik would slap me and stomp on me, he would drug me and say just the most horrible things to me, all to have the most control over me. The other two would shut me in rooms or slam my face into everything they could, they also both seemed to enjoy pushing me down stairs and watching my bones break." Kirby whispers, trying not to cry as she remembers the abuse.

Helms holds her close, lightly stroking her hair, "you didn't deserve it. Any of it."

"I just want to forget about it all, I want to move on from my past but it's so hard."

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

Kirby snuggles into Helms as much as she can, trying but failing to hold back her tears.

"Get it all out, my love. Tears, words, anything."

"I just want to be safe and keep you and Lilith safe, but I'm so scared of losing both of you that I don't want to let you know everything about me in case you decide that I'm not worth the trouble."

"That thought will never, even remotely cross my mind."

"You promise I'm never gonna lose you, mon mari, we'll always be together, until eternity or oblivion comes?" Kirby asks gently.

"As long as you want me. I just worry one of these days, you'll say you're leaving and actually mean it…"

"I could never actually leave you, I love you too much, and you hold too strong a key to my heart for me to ever leave, if we're meant to be together then why should we fight it?"

"That's what I keep thinking… but hardly a month goes by without you storming out…"

"Because I'm scared that you don't want me, I'm scared that I'm a monster who doesn't deserve someone like you because you're so nice and I… I'm just a freak who doesn't deserve anything good."

"That's what you say… but it's hard to believe you sometimes."

"Shane, I… I am a monster, I am a freak of nature who doesn't deserve happiness, I get reminded of that whenever I get jealous of you and Shannon because you two together have so much chemistry that I feel I don't belong."

"How do you think I feel when I say something to try and communicate and your immediate reaction is to leave, take Lilith, and cut me out completely from both your lives?" He mumbles softly, "then one more sentence and you've changed your mind again on a dime. I understand mood swings, but…"

"I don't know, I act out, I try and run because up until you came into my life I never knew the value of staying somewhere, I just never had a reason to stay in one place for very long until you came into my life, it's not mood swings, it's, it's not knowing what to do."

"I'm just saying, moments like that aren't what keep my beard brown…"

"I'm sorry, I truly am, I let my emotions control my actions and that's wrong of me, but I know that I have to change to be better for you, I can't keep doing what I'm doing to you because I don't want to hurt you and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I appreciate the apology, my love, thank you."

"I'll try my hardest to be better, I promise, absolutely no more running away from you, the furthest I'll go is either outside, our bed or the en suite off our bedroom… also we should eat the ice cream before it melts."

"Yeah. That's a good idea."

"I got you a spoon, but uhm, well, I got us both spoons, but it depends on if you want the big one which fits in my mouth or the small one which is safer for you and your adorable pouty face." Kirby murmurs.

"I may be pouty, but my lips are far from small." He grins.

"I know, but I'm the one with actual giant proportions, my love."

"I know, I just mean I'm not too small for a big spoon."

"Would you like your own big spoon, mon ange, I can go get you one."

"Honey, any spoon is fine." He chuckles.

Kirby nuzzles into his neck, kissing from his collarbone to his jaw, "take a friggin spoon, ya sexy, green muthafucka." Kirby whispers against his skin.

"Yes, ma'am." He grins.

"Why are you so warm, you're like a human space heater."

"Cause you keep going outside without jackets or cold weather gear, so the universe decided your perfect match has to create a thermodynamic balance."

"I can't say that word either… nor do I know what it means."

"You're cold, I'm hot, when we touch, we create a neutral temperature."

"Ah, I know this may be a dumb question, but who do you think Lilith will take after, heat wise?"

"Hopefully, she'll be a perfect balance of the two of us."

Kirby places a hand over her baby bump, "I reckon she'll take after you and make me all emotional every single day."

[glowingbadger]

Me when

Me when I, when, uh

Elliott.

His dialogue can actually be a challenge sometimes, because frequently, he does that "eloquent writer" thing, but we also see him speak very casually at times, so.... eh? Guess we'll see how I do my on my first full Elliott outing lol

Also I just like wrote this in one sitting in a near fugue state so cue me a week from now going in to fix repeat words and type-os lmao awesome

Elliott (Stardew) x AFAB Reader

NSFW 18+ v

Elliott lets out a heavy sigh beside you on the bed and closes his notebook, a finger stuck between the pages to keep his place. You know that specific sound- it's the sigh of the ever-dreaded writer's block. Putting your own book aside, you shift closer to him and raise a hand to comb his hair behind his ear.

"How's it going, Hemingway?"

He gives a short laugh, then places his notes on the bedside table. Slumping back against the headboard, he takes a moment to enjoy your fingers in his hair, then says,

"It's... nothing to worry yourself about," he sighs once more, "Just a particular scene that I'm, uh, not quite sure how to approach."

"Oh? What kind of scene?"

You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, smiling idly.

"Well, it's..." he trails off. When you glance up at his face, there's a notable blush across his high cheekbones, "It's an... erotic scene, actually. But I've never written anything of the sort- well, not to any measure of standard, anyway."

Your smile curls, and you give a short hum. Surprised, but certainly not displeased, your mind is filling with deliciously lurid ideas. Perhaps your lover requires a bit of inspiration.

"Alright," you nod, your voice flippant and casual, "So, what kind of tone are you going for? What's the mood?"

His eyebrows rise the slightest bit, as though surprised that you'd indulge him. Then, he replies,

"I would say... not quite animalistic, but certainly frantic. Passionate. The lovers have just escaped a dangerous and harrowing event together, and the relief of survival draws them to one another. The two have... desired one another for some time, so this is like the breaking of a dam."

You nod. Thinking aloud, you say,

"So probably plenty of kissing, and if there's any foreplay, it's probably not gonna last long."

"Do you think so?" Elliott says with genuine interest. He's watching you steadily, his initial hesitation toward the subject rapidly diminishing.

"Well yeah," you lean against him, raising a hand to twirl the ends of a lock of his hair around your fingers, "Its their first time, so they're probably insanely excited to finally kiss one another. But they're also in that intense, post-survival headspace, so they probably can't wait to have one another."

"That does follow..."

"Think of it this way," you go on as you meet his gaze more directly, "How would you kiss me if you had just thought you might lose me?"

Elliott's eyes widen, his posture suddenly rigid.

"If I..."

"Hypothetically," you say with a reassuring smile, "Just to get you into the headspace."

The expression he wears makes your heart ache. He leans close and brings a hand to your cheek, cradling you as he murmurs,

"Darling, to even think of such a thing-"

The moment words fail him, his lips are on yours. Elliott rarely kisses you quite like this; stripped of his usual decorum, he tangles his long fingers in your hair and presses his lips to you like he couldn't possibly let you go. Heat rises at your cheeks and plunges through your center as his tongue runs firm along yours, as skillful as ever, but unrestrained. It's as he himself had said- frantic, passionate. With a single whimpered sigh, you pull him to you by the front of his shirt, his intensity spreading to you like a fire catching on your skin. By the time you both have to part to breathe, he's on all fours above you, though you can't recall for the life of you when you moved.

"See?" you say with a half-dazed smile as you pant softly beneath him, "You just... need a bit of inspiration."

"You have always inspired me, dearest," he says, brushing your hair from your face, "Will you continue to assist me?"

By the time you whisper, "Of course," his lips are already at your neck. Your head tilts back as he presses against you, kissing and biting tender skin, his tongue and teeth sending ripples of pleasure through you. Without realizing, you smile at the familiar scent of pomegranate in his hair, and you run adoring hands along his shoulders and down his arms. Elliott nips at the crook of your neck, and your gasp prompts him to moan against your skin, as though your pleasure were his own.

Still decorating your throat with heated love-bites, Elliott wraps an arm around you to pull you against him as his free hand tugs your clothes up over your chest. Unwilling to wait for you to undress fully, he kisses the soft swell of your breast while his hand cups the other.

"Mmh- Elliott!" you arc up to him from the bed, your body seeking his as the warmth of his mouth surrounds one of your stiffened nipples. He offers no response to your cry, transfixed by his need to feel you, to please you. His hands run down your sides, holding you close as his lips worship your breasts. Just once, you hear him groan your name, his voice low and needy and his breath hot on your skin. Elliott's hand wanders mindlessly as he continues to suck and kiss your dearly sensitive nipples, his touch savoring every inch of you as you squirm and shift beneath him.

"Tell me," his voice is a hoarse whisper, "tell me how it feels- describe it for me."

At first, you can only pant and sigh at the unbearably wonderful sensations. But, you had agreed to help him write- so you force your thoughts to align themselves, and, your voice high and breathless, you say,

"Its... dizzy. Warm. When you kiss me like that..." your fists flex tight around the sheets, "It's like... every nerve and pathway in my body is leading towards your lips."

"Nngh, darling," Elliott moans and runs both hands down your sides, "How am I meant to endure such bliss..."

For a moment, he fumbles with the button and zipper of your pants, but he makes short enough work of them and tugs them down your legs with your panties. Your clothes are discarded beside the bed without a thought, and with a direct and forceful passion you've rarely seen in him, Elliott parts your thighs beneath him and lowers his head.

"Oh-!! Fuh- Fuck, Elliott!" you gasp as his lips press around your clit and his tongue flicks against it, his movements firm and steady. You think of how he usually makes love- how he prefers to take his time with you, guide you slowly to your climax with gentle, loving touches and gradually increasing pressure. It couldn't be further from how he is now; now, it's as though he wants your climax desperately. Already, your thighs are trembling around him, but he pauses for just a moment.

"Tell me..." he repeats his earlier request, kissing your inner thigh. His brow is deeply furrowed, his hair tickling your skin and hands caressing you as he returns to his task. You arch from the bed once more as the tip of his tongue circles your swollen clit, the slick warmth wracking your entire body with pleasure- yet you manage to force out the words,

"God, Elliott, it's incredible-!" you whine softly, biting your lip before continuing, "It's... it's hot, my head is fuzzy- my... my legs feel weak- it's... a jolt through my body, every time you- your tongue... ohh!!"

He seals his lips around your throbbing clit and the surrounding sensitive flesh. He sucks and massages you, his tongue thrumming steadily against you and his nails digging along your thighs as he leans against you. Without a word, it seems as though he's demanding that you cum- or perhaps begging- and your trembling body is more than happy to comply. With a final cry of his name, you cling to the sheets, your legs tensing in around him as a rush of heat explodes at your core, and his dexterous tongue urges you through all the while.

Letting out a long-held breath, you slump onto the mattress, your thighs still shaking slightly from the aftershocks of your climax. Yet the fire in Elliott's eyes is evident even in your blissful haze. He prowls up over you, his hand brushing your cheek, and you mumble,

"I should... do something for-"

"Darling," he says, his scorching gaze silencing you in an instant, "I don't think I can wait a moment longer."

With wide eyes and flushed cheeks, you nod, and he quickly strips off his wrinkled dress shirt and works open the front of his pants. At a glance, you can tell he's in an agonizing state of arousal. His cock is long and rock-hard, swollen and twitching eagerly as he positions himself between your legs and presses to your entrance. Perhaps it's no surprise he can't bring himself to care about your shirt still bunched up over your breasts, nor his own remaining clothing.

Your lower lips are still soaked from your previous orgasm, and your slick easily coats the head of his cock as Elliott begins to push into you. Your eyes meet as he drives deeper into your clinging pussy. He's oddly beautiful in the throes of passion; his hair is tossed in every direction, cascading romantically down his shoulders, his chest rises and falls heavily, his lips are full and kissed to a lovely pink. You give a short whimper as he hits your deepest point- yet when you see him watching your expressions intently, you know what he wants before he thinks to ask.

"Full," you say softly, "I... I feel so full, Elliott. So... right. Like my body is stretching to fit perfectly around your cock. The- the pressure is incredible..!"

He whispers your name with absolute adoration. Then, his hips begin to move. His pace is firm and steady from the start, a far cry from how he typically eases you both into the sensation. Elliott draws close, one hand behind your knee urging your legs further apart while the other supports him on the bed. Your own unsteady hand comes to rest at his jawline, urging him close to kiss you once more, and with that, any remnant of restraint between the two of you evaporates. His hips buck against you, barely maintaining a consistent rhythm as the thick length of his cock thrusts and grinds into you. He's hitting some incredible spot- some impossibly sensitive place deep inside of you that has you gasping out for him with every sway of his hips.

"Right there!" you breathe out between kisses. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him to you, dragging your nails along his scalp. Uttering and deep groan, Elliott lowers his head onto the pillow beside yours and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. He kisses the marks he'd given you earlier. He stammers out something about how wonderful you feel, how he loves you, adores you, a long-remembered line of poetry that you half-hear between moans and strained sighs.

His member throbs hard, swelling thick against your clenching inner walls. You feel his body tense, his abdomen flexing tight, and you know he's close. At the realization, you suddenly bring your hands to cradle his face, and kiss him hard. Elliott groans- a deep, primal sound that's so unlike his usual gentle tone. Then, he holds inside of you, every inch of his cock buried in you as his release takes him and pushes you towards your own. For a few glowing moments, your lover kisses you against the mattress as his cum fills you, each pulse causing his cock to twitch in a way that stimulates your over-sensitive nerves. By the end, he's forced to part from your lips, gasping out your name as the final wave of his climax works through him.

Then at last, he slumps forward, barely holding himself up as he struggles to catch his breath. He pulls out from you, and you watch him with warm eyes, brushing a lock of his now wild and tangled hair behind an ear.

"That... wow," Elliott chuckles softly, "Well, I certainly do feel inspired."

"Glad to help," you say with a grin- though in truth, you still feel winded and shaky, yourself. He settles beside you on the bed once more, then takes your hand in his and draws it to his lips. The gentlemanly gesture makes it hard to believe this is the same man who just fucked you into the mattress with all of his strength.

Briefly, Elliott appears contemplative, and you decide not to interrupt his thoughts until he says at last,

"It was... different from usual, wasn't it? Fiercer, somehow. The state of heightened emotion, the novelty of hearing you describe what you felt... yes, I- I think I'm beginning to understand!"

His eyes light up, and you know this expression well. Something's sparked in his mind- a clear direction, the words already assembling themselves in his mind. Your smile broadens. You can't help it, seeing him fired up like this always fills your chest with fluttery warmth. Curling up at his side, you nuzzle against his chest and mutter,

"Well, if that's what it takes to fix writer's block, then consider me a willing assistant."

[erodasfishtacos]

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!

please consider donating to my kofi - my work is FREE and it is a great way to show support!

enjoy!

-=-=-=-=-=-

The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

-

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

--

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

-

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

-

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

--

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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[elysiadjarin]

Day 2: Breeding Kink

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

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

Tags: Dilf!werewolf x reader, exophilia, kinktober

Moonlight Through Colored Leaves

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fell asleep thinking about it.

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was only a matter of time.

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The world spun into crimson.

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May I?” He tapped your shirt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bastillewolf]

Shinigami Eyes (II)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: After you distastefully kill Corpse in a game of Among Us, he wants you to make it up to him and invites you to come over for the week.

Notes: Thank you so much for the love on the previous chapter, I’ve never gotten this many notes before. I hope you enjoy, and maybe leave an ask if you want to? I can’t promise I have time to do them, but I’ll pick out a couple.

Also, I might rewrite this. I kinda rushed it because I wanted to finish it by tonight, but there will be a final and third chapter to this afterwards. Please do let me know what you think.

Tag list CLOSED!

Shinigami Eyes - Pt. II

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Impostor

You were teamed up with Sean.

Your fist violently slammed down on the desk. “Goddammit! I don’t want to be impostor anymore! This game has no compassion for my poor nerves.” It was the third time in a row now, and you were really craving to do normal tasks now without all the scheming. “Fuck it, I don’t care if they kill me. I’m just gonna do my thing without thinking about it.”

You decide to follow Toast for a bit to watch him do some task. You kill him in Laboratory. You vent back to Launchpad and take your time walking towards MedBay while the kill button restores. You meet up with Corpse, and follow him while pretending to do wires in the Y-hallway. You watched the green bar go up, and continued. Sabotaging and then fixing lights, you made sure your place with Corpse was settled. Then the body of Lily was reported.

As you expected, Corpse easily vouched for you as he’d seen you do a task. The round was skipped, though Rae was sussed for ‘chasing’ Sean, by his own words.

“Corpse, you’ve grown weak,” you muttered to chat.

You were in Greenhouse, and decided it would be best to kill him there and sabotage Reactor. “Sorry baby, but I can’t keep following you around.” You quickly set off Reactor and murdered him in front of the plants. “Your blood shall keep the plants hydrated.” You did an evil laugh. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works, though.”

You vented down to MedBay and as you walked out you met up with Rae. She’d be the vouch who would confirm you weren’t anywhere near Greenhouse. “I’ll just have to fix my own sabotage so they’ll never suspect me.” You helped her with the handprint, and noted Sykkuno and Felix being there. Sean sabotaged lights, you killed Sykkuno, and ran out to follow Lily into Laboratory. Felix reported the body.

“Holy shit,” Rae gasped. So far, five people had died. You only needed to kill one more person. “It was Felix!”

“Wait, what?” the man in question asked. “I was fixing Reactor!”

She mentioned that only you, Sykkuno, Felix and herself had been there and that you’d helped her do handprint. “Sykkuno must have fixed it, and then you killed him!”

Sean asked if you’d seen anything.

“No, the lights were out. I followed Rae into Laboratory after the scan.” Your voice didn’t tremble or raise, a tactic you’d taken up from the best lair in the group. Well, the one who was now dead. Oops. “I haven’t seen Felix this entire game, though.”

He was evidently at a loss for words, so the group was quick to vote for him.

Pewds was ejected.

Victory.

You thanked Sean for a good game who was laughing his ass off. “I can’t believe you did Corpse like that! Poor guy!”

“I deadass thought you were innocent,” Corpse replied, “I’m hurt.”

“Why do you still sound dark and menacing when you say something like that?!”

You agreed with Sean heartily, “He’s just salty I’ve bested him at his own game.”

“Hey now, no need to actually insult me.”

The group laughed. You decided to call it for the night, right before Corpse did the same.”

 ***

He was calling you again. “What is it this time, you salty?”

“Salty? Nah, never,” he said, but you weren’t convinced.

“Then why you calling?”

“What, I can’t call my friends after playing a nice round of Among Us?”

“Not when you lost the game and you call the person who you lost to. Kinda sus, dude.”

“Alright, maybe a little salty.” You smirked.

“Aw, you need me to make it up to you?”

He laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

A bunch of thoughts, most not rated PG-13, crossed your mind. You were suddenly starting to feel uncomfortable. This was probably just something innocent, which got twisted in your fucked-up mind. You shrugged, “Uh… I don’t know.”

“I got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Come over this week. You said you needed a break, right?”

“That sounds more like you’re doing me a favour instead of me making it up to you.”

“I don’t have any friends. You’d be making it up to me by being the first physical person here in years. I usually don’t invite people over.”

“Wow, I’m flattered. So, you don’t consider me to be your friend after all?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he chuckled.

“Sure, sure. Tell me that again when my presence suddenly brightens your life making you not want to get rid of me, ever.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

 ***

You walk through the gates following a hoard of people, all the while still feeling drowsy from not getting any sleep during your flight. At least you didn’t have any turbulence and landed safely. Glancing around here and there with no result, you figured Corpse would be waiting outside, until you spotted a figure clad in black a little ends away by the escalator. You were glad you were still awake enough to have found him, because he appeared to silently linger halfway behind a fern.

At least, you hoped it was him. The only indications were his clothes, mask and dark hair. You saw him run a hand through it, and identified the chipped black nail polish and familiar rings. Oh yea, that was him alright.

He seemed to be paying more attention to the floor until he saw two feet appear in his line of sight. “Hey,” you awkwardly greeted. A bit taken a back, he replied, “Oh, wow. Hey.” A mask was covering the bottom of his face, but as far as you could see his eyes were a very dark shade.

“Wow?” you repeated. He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yea, sorry. It’s a compliment.” You held your elbow out in a safe-distance gestured hello, but he shrugged you off. “You’re gonna be staying with me anyways.” Suddenly in a daze, you felt him wrap his arms around your waist and instantly hugged him back. His baggy sweater felt warm and soft to the touch, and strands of hair tickled your face. You very much tried to repress your smile and blush, but how could you? Hugging someone wasn’t supposed to feel this good. When he pulled back he reached down to take your suitcase from you. “I don’t own a car, is it okay if we take a cab?”

“Y-Yeah, of course,” you stuttered, “But it’s on me. Same with food and stuff.” “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “No, you’re letting me stay with you and a hotel would’ve been a lot more expensive than this. It’s my treat.” “Yeah, we’ll see.” He gave you a look and even with the mask you could tell he was smirking underneath it.

It’s about half an hour drive to his apartment complex, and it’s rather nice. “All that YouTube money paying off, huh?” you asked in amusement. “You’d know,” he replied. You insisted on carrying your suitcase up the stairs yourself, which he silently shook his head at, until after a few flights he noticed you struggling and settled on carrying the thing in between the two of you. “How many clothes did you bring?” “Oh, it’s mostly filled with bricks I might need to throw at your head.” He laughed at that.

His apartment was simple, but cosy. “Home sweet home,” he said, almost sarcastically. You furrowed your brow at him. “I’m sure you could’ve had it a lot worse.” He reluctantly agreed.

He helped you set down your luggage in what appeared to be his bedroom, where the curtains were still closed and the black bedsheets fresh. He had a few pieces of fanart up on his wall, and some on his closet. You turned to him and gave him a look. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

He quickly shook his head, “You’re not sleeping there. If you won’t let me sleep on the couch I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“If you’re sleeping on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he murmured. “What?” “Nothing.”

He suggested playing video games as you were both too tired to do anything else. You’d landed quite late yet were still confused about what time it actually was. Flying is weird. You hopped onto his couch and grabbed a controller.

He sat down next to you, but suddenly seemed tenser than before.

“You okay? You can just go to sleep if you want to.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I don’t sleep a lot. It’s fine.”

You didn’t stop looking at him, though. He was still wearing that mask. “You don’t have to take it off, if you don’t want to. I understand if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that, I just…” He took a deep breath. You hadn’t expected him to take it off then and there. You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape, controller barely held by your numb hands.

“Disappointed?”

It was as if he was expecting you to make a face or something, but you didn’t give him anything, except for a blatant “Nope” and an “Are we gonna play now or what?”

“You don’t have anything else to say?”

You shrugged, and looked him up and down again. “You’re kind of what I imagined you to be.”

“What’s that?”

“Handsome.”

Neither of you could stop smiling for the rest of the night.

You eventually forced him to sleep in his own bed, even going as far as to shove him into the room and keep your weight against the door so he couldn’t get out, so he eventually relented. “Inviting you here was a mistake.” “How come? All I’ve done so far is look after you!” “You’re a nightmare.”

You mostly stayed in for the week, which you didn’t mind at all. Being in such a closed-off environment with someone you got along with was nice. He attempted to get you to lift the weights in his room and succeeded for around fifteen minutes until you nearly dropped a dumbbell on your foot. You ordered take-out from his favourite restaurant, watched horror movies until you adapted to his sleeping schedule because you were too scared to close your eyes now, and even streamed a bit together with your friends.

“Wait, is Corpse with you?” Rae had asked.

“No, I’m at Corpse’s. He’s sitting across from me so I can’t see his screen but we’re gonna have to share the Discord unless you want to hear an echo.”

“Ah, man! You got to see his face, too?” Sykkuno whined.

“Stop simping, Sykkuno. You get enough attention from him already.”

“Don’t worry, I still love you,” Corpse said.

“Huh?”

It was probably a good thing that you got teamed up again, because you could indeed start to see his hands shaking right as the word ‘impostor’ appeared on the screen. You reached over and stroked it with your thumb. He smiled gratefully back at you.

“Just please,” he pleaded later that day, “Sleep in the bed. If only for one night.”

“No. I’ve heard about and now seen your sleeping habits. If you take the couch you’re never going to get any sleep.” You made a real effort to show him how comfortable you were – even though your back had started to hurt already after the first night – by crawling underneath your blanket and rubbing your head into the soft pillow. He snorted.

Next thing, you feel yourself being lifted by an arm underneath your knees and one around your back. “Corpse! Put me the fuck down!” you shrieked. You knew he lifted weights, but how the hell did he still have the energy as an insomniac? He ungracefully dropped you onto the matrass and turned the lights off. “Good night.”

You quickly got hold of the back of his hoodie before he could leave and pulled. He fell down next to you with a low huff. “Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed. But only if you sleep here too.”

“I snore.”

“Don’t care.”

For some reason, there wasn’t any tension or awkwardness. You were comfortable, and the soft rhythm of his breathing seemed to soothe you. He called out your name, to see if you were still awake.

“Hm?”

“…Thanks for coming over.”

“Any time.”

This was how you would spend the rest of the nights, and whenever either of you woke up suddenly curled up around the other, you didn’t mention it or move away from it. It was the first time in years Corpse got a few nights of complete rest.

[limitlessgojo]

Going to a Private Onsen with Gojo

NSFW Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, established relationship

Type: One shot. This is around almost 4k words.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW content, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, daddy kink, squirting, overstimulation, praising, dom!Gojo, breeding kink, slightly manipulative/ Yandere Gojo, degradation

Notes: finally got to finish this fic, my motivation just dropped halfway lmao. The inn house has rooms with private hot springs. Not shared like the communal ones in public bath houses. This is half fluff half smut.

The private hot springs per room are separated by bamboo trees and wooden walls. (With holes. So you know what's gonna go down👀💦💦💦)

You and Satoru finally get the chance to have a 2 day 1 night short break from work. He takes you to an inn, checking in a tatami room with a private hot spring (onsen) included. The place smelled fresh, and you could smell the flowers outside.

"We can see the hot springs from here love. What do you think? It's gorgeous isn't it?" Satoru wiggled his eyebrows at you. You both set your luggage down, making yourselves at home. The sun is still high up, it is only 2:00pm and the hot spring is steaming, the sunlight making the water shine and glitter.

"It's not bad at all; the room is quite big as well." You smiled. Despite knowing that you're only stroking his ego, you let it go for once. Just this once because it is a special break after all. He internally pats himself on the back, beaming at you. “Glad you like it. Let’s take a walk around the area and then come back for dinner.”

“Fine with me”. Both of you changed into traditional clothing first. Gojo into a Yukata and you into your kimono. He helped you tie your obi and do your hair up. "Look how pretty my kitten is." He practically purred out as he cinched your waist beneath his large hands. His hands felt like fire on your waist.

You flushed, softly calling out his name. "N-not now." You stared at his profile. All lean and muscular. Knowing his physique hidden under the blue fabric did nothing to help. 

"Not now." He agreed. But the glint in his eyes said otherwise. Still he held himself back.

So you both set out, exploring the town. The stalls were bustling with people. You both bought souvenirs for the students as well as omamori (charms) for various purposes. 

You visited the temple and just tried to relieve the pent up stress from the last few weeks. “The air is so cool and it smells really nice here.” The flowers were all in bloom, as it was spring as of now. Satoru, however, kept his eyes on you for most of the time instead of the scenery around him. 

“Yeah, it’s real pretty isn’t it? Wanna take some photos?”

“Good idea! I need a new lock screen pic of us Toru!” you smiled. Your smile unfortunately dimmed upon noticing other women staring at Satoru and batting their eyelashes at him (ignoring the fact that you were right beside him). 

You’ve always known that he was a gorgeous person, just thanking your lucky stars that he actually came around to reciprocate your feelings. “Hey”, Satoru cupped your face and turned it to face him. He was pouting. “Focus on me love. This trip is just for us.” 

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. AH! I wanna have a picture by that Sakura tree~”. You tried to be more enthusiastic and engaging, blocking out any jealous and negative thoughts. 

Seriously, it's not like you didn't trust him. Just that your insecurity gets to you sometimes. You quickly bat the thoughts away. Your thoughts came to a halt when you felt something soft on the corner of your lips. 

"Love you." Satoru murmured against your cheek. You turned to see his eyes under his drooping sunglasses just an inch away from yours. You couldn't help but sigh in admiration. Of course he knows how you feel. "I love you more Toruu~ Now let's go." You gave him a genuine and bright smile. Walking over to a shaded area near the lake, surrounded by tall grass.

He leaned down to press his cheek against the top of your head and placed one arm around you. His other hand was holding up his phone for a selfie. After you took some pretty and funny photos, he surprised you by bringing out a polaroid.

"Eh?! Since when did you bring that with you?" You asked him. Satoru gave a sneaky smirk, "Well. Since you talked non stop about loving the vintage aesthetic recently, I thought it would be good to make a small scrapbook or photo album of this trip." 

".... who are you and what have you done with my husband..."

"Hey! That's rude. I'm always nice and sweet." He pouted and widened his eyes, using a finger to push down his shades. "I knowww~ Just kidding Toru, I love your ideas. I'll help you with it then." 

"Of course you will pumpkin." He squeezed you against his side, not caring about anyone who might be looking at both of you being overly affectionate in public. 

He took pictures using the polaroid camera every now and then. Taking your hand and leading you around, Satoru did not give your thoughts a chance to move away from him. He didn't hesitate to tickle you when your guard was down and poked at your cheeks with the most annoying grin. 

After that it was just you and him. Enjoying your precious time together, undisturbed by anyone else. By the time the sun was setting, you dragged him over to an Izakaya. "Should we have dinner here?" You asked him. 

"Ooooh! Looks like they have good meat and eel. That's fine with me." He replied. You both enjoyed dinner and had a bit of sake. Satoru always looked cute with flushed red cheeks and that big stupid smile of his. "Well you look cuter than me for once Hun." He quipped back.

You smiled as you wiped that teriyaki sauce off the corner of his mouth for him. It was a really peaceful day. 

Walking back to the inn, you noticed a shadow moving quickly just by the corner of your eye. This is why you don't think about work during your free time. Feeling chills run up your spine, you turned to see a curse, staring straight back at you. "Ah shit I left my sword back in the inn." 

Not even having finished your sentence, you watched as Satoru flicked his wrist and took down the 2nd grade curse in an instant. "I told you not to worry darling. I'm not going to let anything hurt you." He tutted and booped your nose playfully, eyes shining. 

"Heehh~" you pretended not to be impressed but by the look on his face, you knew you didn't do a good job of hiding it. He just chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "Toru I can't walk like this." 

It was like trying to lug a 190cm tall clingy infant. "I'll protect you with my infinity from all sides love." He looked really happy, just prancing around with you in his arms as you both made your way back to the inn. 

💜💜💜

You both settled back in and got ready to take a bath. It was a really good day and everything went smoother than you thought it would, knowing your chaotic and unorthodox doof of a husband. 

"Dinner was so good. This was a great idea Toru, thank you." You smiled up at him. He smiled back, so soft and gentle with you. The way he never is and never will be with anyone else.

"Now then, I'll be taking my payment from you." You looked up at him, confusion evident on your face. Your husband of 5 years still confuses you until this day. "I'm sorry?" you felt affronted as you asked the question. You had no problem paying your share of the bills, heck you earn a lot as a 1st grade Jujutsu sorcerer yourself. 

But Satoru spent about over a month pestering you about wanting to treat you to a short staycation with him. "Yes", he replied slowly making his way towards you, towering over your shorter frame. You stood your ground and craned to look up at him. 

"Thank you for the meal sweetheart. You will be my dessert." He removed his glasses and threw them aside to showcase his bright blue eyes. You shivered from the intensity, and his lips turned up in a smirk. His words were somewhat funny, but his tone was dead serious.

He wasted no time, leaning down to suck down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, after he pulled one side of your kimono off your shoulder. "Sa-Satoru!!, hah- ", his grip on you was way too tight.

"Baby, I am so sorry I can't wait any longer. Won't you be good for me?" Satoru asked as he took a step back and cupped your cheeks in his hands.

It's true that this man has no self-control, always palming your ass down the hallways at Tokyo Jujutsu High. But you rarely see him as desperate as he is now, that it was actually endearing to you. So you relented, earning a grin from the man.

He helped you out of your kimono, littering small kisses on your forehead and cheeks, before he started biting on one ear. 

Unclasping your bra, he reached down to grope your breasts. You stared at him as he suckled on one nipple while toying with the other. His eyes opened to meet yours, and you could feel the growing wetness between your legs.

You also reached up to pull his Yukata off, undoing the tie on his waist. "I love it when you hair is done up darling. I can bite as much of your neck as I want." He growled out against your shoulder, biting and sucking wherever he can.

Your mouth watered upon seeing the outline of his hard-on straining against his boxers. On the other hand, Satoru stared unashamedly as you pulled down your panties, keeping your legs together to keep your slick from dripping down your legs.

Impatiently, you reached up and ran your fingers through his locks. "Satoru~" you whined. He only smirked in response. In one quick movement, he gathered you into his arms and brought you over to the small washing area with the soap and shower-head. 

He was still in his boxers however. You just stared at it, drawing closer to press your hand and rub the outline. He let out a long moan, which led to you to quickly look up and snap out a hush. "The neighbours might hear us Toru." You whined. 

"Tch, Let them hear. They can't touch or experience us anyways. And I want to show off my lovely little wife." He leered down at you, finally removing his wet boxers and throwing it onto the ground.

His hard cock sprang up and slapped against his abs. As if moving by some force, you immediately dropped to your knees. Rubbing soap onto his waist, thighs, and finally pumping his cock with your soapy hands. You looked up to him as you "cleaned" him off with innocent eyes. 

Satoru wasn't impressed. "Don't tease me baby or you'll regret it." He pulled you up and brought you into a deep kiss. You both gathered more soap and started washing each other off.

With his hands moving slowly down the sides, Satoru didn't hold himself back from touching every nook and cranny of your body. From your neck, to your shoulders, down your breasts, going to your thighs and legs. His hands were rubbing at your skin, inching nearer and nearer to your cunt. Until he suddenly pulled away, making you cry out at the loss of contact. 

"Be good for me and let me clean you first kitten." He whispered.

No other words were shared as you both rinsed and washed each other off before moving to the onsen.

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you in a hot spring." Satoru smirked as you both dipped into the water. You sat on his lap and clasped your hands behind his neck, straddling him. His hands gripping either side of you waist tightly. 

"No I don't know." You turned away from him as you rested your head against his chest. He hummed. Both of you resting for a bit. You were both in the same state, antsy for action, but trying to enjoy the hot springs at the same time. 

For a while you both just stayed soaking in the hot water. Until you started grinding down against him. He just stared down at your figure. Breasts spilling against his chest, the slope of your s line with your ass under the water. But you refused to meet his eyes.

Satoru didn't really like that very much. He pinched your thigh hard. "Ow!,' you yelped. "Toru what was-" you finally turned to look up at him, but faltered and stopped moving. His eyes were bright and his expression dark. "I thought my baby was going to be good for me tonight. You don't wanna beg me later just to come right? Or does daddy have to make you do just that?"

As soon as he said the word daddy you felt your insides clench around nothing, thighs quivering. He looked down towards your body, grinning at your response. He pulled you out of the water, sitting down on the ground beside it. 

"Suck me off baby and I'll consider making you cum."

You crawled over on all fours towards him. You kissed him first, then trailed downwards, licking off the water and sweat on Satoru's abs and the outlines of his hard muscles. He groans while staring at you, pupils blown so wide his bright blue eyes actually look dark for once. 

You can see the carnal lust raging behind him as you squeeze your breasts together while kneeling and licking his abs. You leave small butterfly kisses as you slowly make your way down to his aching member.

But, he groans as you skip past it and suck love marks into his lower thighs. "Pumpkin, please -UNGH, p-please don't tease so much." Satoru groaned. You smirked up at him, meeting his eyes while sticking your tongue out and licking one of his balls. Sucking it into your mouth and covering it with your spit.

He reached down to lift your chin up, thumbing your lips as he watched the saliva trickle down down side of your mouth to his fingers. The current sight of you is so lewd and dirty that Satoru almost came on the spot right there. 

You decide to humor him and move to licking the head of his dick, while grabbing a hold of the base and slowly pumping it up and down. Satoru threw his head back. He looked up, seeing the night sky and the stars twinkling while feeling hot pleasure run through his body. He felt like he was floating.

You tried deepthroating all of him in one go, but he was just too big. "Baby, your mouth is too small for daddy's cock isn't it?". You whimpered in response. Trying to swallow as much of him as you can while using your hand for the remainder of his length.

Quiet mewls escaped the sides of your mouth as you opened your aching jaws wider. Tears started running down your face. You didn't stop as you relaxed your jaw and took more of him, swallowing what you can while pumping. He bucked up without warning, causing your gag reflex to react. Then he pulled you off.

"That's enough for now. I wanna make sure I stuff every bit of cum I have inside of your pussy baby." He pulled you up over him, this time with his back to the floor as he spoke. 

"Lemme eat you out, I've been waiting for this all day." He was salivating at the sight of your pussy, positioned in front of his face. You lowered yourself onto him slowly. Impatiently, he tugged you waist down, smashing your lower lips against his mouth. You let out a loud yelp followed by heavy breaths and mewls as he ate you out.

Thrusting his tongue in and out of your walls. He loved the taste of you, always thirsty for more. You tried to grind your pussy against his face. But he held your legs in place with one arm, wrapping around your behind. The other hand was playing with your clit. 

In no time at all you were sobbing and cumming all over his face. Satoru didn't spare you one second of rest. He pulled away and lined himself up, pushing into you during your orgasm. 

He immediately started fucking into you earnestly, grabbing a hold of your waist and lifting it to pull you on and off his cock. "Toru, it's too much for me, I can't-" You could barely get the words out of your mouth as you slurred them out with your eyes shut. 

"Yes you can. I know you can. Because you're made for me and only you can do a good job for me like this love." Satoru grunted as he pumped into you like there was no tomorrow. 

He loved it when your walls clenched and squeezed against him tightly. Especially when your whole body shook during an orgasm. Whenever you open your eyes all you can see are the stars blurring due to your movements. You both came like that, with your backs arching. His cock stayed hard, twitching as it spurted and filled you up. 

He suddenly felt the sensation of eyes on him. As the user of six eyes, his senses were wide alert at ALL times. He looked to the side of the wooden wall, and saw dark eyes staring back at him.

He didn't stop thrusting. You whined and mewled as you ground your hips against his. "Fuck, such a slut for me. Love it when you cry and make those noises babe. Just look at me. I won't look at any other person, man or woman. I'm yours as long as you're mine." He growled out.

He pulled out to reposition you. Dragging your body on top of his. Your back against his chest. "Daddy, I want you. I want more!" You whined out. You positioned his cock at your entrance.

"Daddy will give his baby what she wants. You've been so good to me after all love." He smirked inwardly pushed back upwards into you, thrusting at a fast pace. (Satoru chose the position because he knew you were both being watched. He loves to make other men so jealous of him having you).

You could only squeal and try to hold yourself up against him, putting your palms against the floor. But it was no use. He grabbed your thighs and kept fucking up harder and harder, making it hard for you to hold onto anything.

"Yes just like that baby. You're so good to me. You don't need to think. I'll make it so that you don't have to do anything else. You only need to feel my cock yeah? My doll is the best when she is crying on my cock." He moaned out. 

The man on the other side of the wall was joined by a few other men. Satoru used his ability to see through the wall following the movement of their cursed energy and saw that they were touching themselves to you.

"Daddy, please more. Daddyyy~" you were slipping further into subspace. Soon you couldn't speak clearly anymore. Just babbling nonsense while bouncing on Satoru's lap and staring hazily up at the sky.

"I think we have company." He laughed out. You snapped out of your haze to see peeking eyes behind the bamboo sticks. Satoru just thrusted harder. "Let's give them a show of their lifetime hmm? I spy old men wanting some action. But they won't be able to touch you baby."

He reached up with one hand to grope your breast and the other stayed below to play with your clit. Sex to him was almost like an art form. He knew exactly how to play with your body to bring you to your strongest orgasms. 

You tried to cover your body up but he pulled your arms away. "Don't run away baby, daddy's here to protect you. It will be okay."

At the end of the day you trusted him and his six eyes, so you let go. Pussy clenching harder at the thought of being watched by unknown strangers.

"That's it, my angel. So good for me. You're leaking far more than normal slut. You like it when people watch you get fucked?"

He reached up with his cum stained hand to spit into it. Then shoved his fingers in your mouth. You obediently suckled on and cleaned his fingers for him. He continued to grope you as he pounded away.

Satoru wasn't too worried about the spectators next door. He can see them clearly. Several middle aged men (probably sharing a larger room) messily jerking off to both of you. He saw the way their eyes travelled across your breasts and cunt, which was oozing with his cum.

He hit a hard deep spot inside of you which caused you to squirt hard, a large amount of liquid spraying out. Satoru quickly put his hands over your clit and furiously rubbed at it, wanting to prolong your squirting. You were crying out loud at this point. It was just music to his ears.

One man groaned out, causing you to tense and tighten and Satoru to moan out.

"You love putting a show on huh baby? We should do this more often if it gets you tighter and wetter around me." He snarked out while you drooled and asked for more.

He didn't stop thrusting until he came a few more times inside of you, changing positions.

The men watched as you rode him, your breasts bouncing up and down, while you placed your palms flat on Satoru's chest. They stared at the cum flowing out of your pussy, being fucked back into you by Satoru. The way you both groaned as you clamped down tight and milked his cock.

Soon you found yourself laying on your side with one leg up with Satoru spooning you from behind. What was frightening was his stamina and power. 

His thrusts never lost strength and soon you just felt like his cock was drilling a space inside of you, just for it. You felt so boneless in his hands when you both finished, laying down on your sides.

"Babe…. You okay? We need to clean up." Satoru whispered against your shoulder.

You could only mumble incoherent noises. Squeezing around his softening length, still plugged inside of you to keep his cum inside. 

Satoru gave out a soft sigh. Then gathered you into his arms and took you away from prying eyes. He just turned and smirked at them as he walked away with you, butt naked.

The watchers were disappointed that the show was over. Satoru then cleaned you both with the shower head in the washing area and wiped you down with soft towels.

You stayed silent the whole time. Your head felt like it was in the clouds. Just letting Satoru do his way with you like a doll. "You were really good for me tonight angel. Nobody else can touch you but me." He chuckled darkly.

You just listened to his simple commands such as putting your arms up when he dressed you in your nightgown. 'I always love fucking her dumb.' He smiled to himself as he settled you into his arms in bed. 

"Next time I'll be fucking you in the water." He whispered. He brought you closer to him, tucking your head against his neck. Kissing your forehead and patting you to put you to sleep. 

🎇🎇🎇

The next morning you were absolutely horrified to see people staring at you, when you both left your room to check out. 'I bet they heard us last night. And who were the ones peaking at us?!?!' you frightfully thought to yourself.

Satoru didn't really care. Smiling brightly at the attendants and thanking them for your amazing stay at the inn. 

"Toru I really enjoyed my stay, but it's hard to be happy now knowing that we did it at the expense of our neighbours stay." You whispered, hitting him. "Darling I'm pretty sure they enjoyed the show." He winked at you, shameless as ever.

Suffice to say, you decided not return to said hot springs for a while out of shame.

End notes: 🙈 this fic started because I just thought of Satoru's abs wet with steam and sweat but it evolved during the last edit. Hope you guys enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated 💜

All rights reserved to Limitlessgojo.

[voidsbabe]

Crazy about you

Pairing: Stiles x reader

Characters: Stiles, Scott, Allison, Lydia, Malia, Isaac

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Stiles is in love with Y/N since second grade. He snaps when Isaac asks Y/N out and finally confesses his love due to confrontation between him and Y/N

Warnings: strong language, fight, please keep in mind that English isn’t my first language

Masterlist

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“Come on Y/N, just one date” says Isaac while looking at you.

You smile a little trying to cover the fact that he is so intimidating and that you are already blushing. Isaac is like stupid hot and since he is in the pack everything seems so right. You look at your friends talking and then you turn your head to Isaac.

“Fine, but no kisses” you say and smirk seeing his big smile disappear.

He bites his lips and shakes your hand “Deal”.

You shake your head amused and go to class with him.

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“You ok?” asks Scott, glancing at Stiles.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?” asks Stiles and looks at Malia, Lydia, Allison and Scott.

“Maybe because Y/N and Isaac have been flirting all day or maybe because he was tagging her along all week or maybe because YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HER SINCE YOU HAVE MET HER WHICH WAS IN THE SECOND GRADE, YOU IDIOT” says Malia.

Stiles rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders “Bullshit.”

“Cut the crap, Stilinski. You love her but somehow you are trying to shove away those feelings. Why?” says Allison. “And don’t lie to us.”

Stiles sighs and looks at Y/N.

“Guys, you are right. I've been in love with her ever since I met her, but she’s way out of my league. I love her smile and how her eyes sparkle everytime she talks about something she loves. She’s the sweetest, the most caring person ever but she prefers Isaac and that’s fine. As long as she’s happy, then I’m happy too. But I swear I’m gonna kill him if he breaks her heart because she is fucking amazing and he doesn’t deserve her...neither do I.”

Everyone goes silent and a few moments later the bell rings.

“Let’s just go to class.” says Scott, looking at everyone.

You enter the classroom and find your desk right between Scott and Stiles who enters the classroom two minutes after you. You smile at them but your smile fades immediately when you see Stiles eyes. There’s something going on there but you don’t know what. He seems kinda off and he isn’t as talkative as he always is. Just when you want to ask him what happened, the coach enters the classroom. You take your phone out trying not to get caught.

To: goofball Stiles

Hey, you ok? You seem kinda off. I’m worried and also I have to tell you that Isaac asked me out! Can you believe it?

You hit send and wait for Stile’s response. Few moments later you hear his phone buzzing. He takes it out of his pocket just to see your message. He takes a look at the coach and starts typing on his phone.

From: goofball Stiles

I’m fine. Just a little tired. I’m so happy he asked you out :)

You read his message. Now you are sure. He’s lying but you don’t know why. You brush off those bad feelings and try to focus on the coach's class and your date after school.

As soon as the last bell rings you take your stuff and go to the library when you are supposed to meet with Isaac. Suddenly you feel a strong grip and in front of you appears red strawberry blonde hair.

“Honey, he’s in love with you” she says leaving you completely confused. Who is in love with me? Isaac? Stiles? You shake your head trying to get rid of those thoughts. What the hell is going on today?

You go into the library just to see Stiles beating the shit out of Isaac.

“What the fuck is going on here? Stiles!” you yell at him and grab his shoulder. He pushes your hand away. You can see he isn’t controlling himself and that scares you. What the fuck is going on and why Stiles is acting so weird?

“Stiles, leave him. Y/N is here.” says Scott and helps Stiles to get up. You cover your mouth seeing a couple of bruises on his cheek and his lip bleeding.

Stiles looks at you with a huge pain in his eyes.

“Have a great date” he says and walks out of the library.

Lydia and Allison help Isaac to get up. You walk up to them.

“I think you should have a conversation with Stiles.” says Allison. Lydia doesn’t say anything but you could feel her coolness and death stare.

“I will.” you answer and apologise to Isaac. You get into your car and drive to Stiles’s house. Sheriff lets you in. You take a deep breath and knock on his door.

“Dad, I said I’m fine.” he says and opens the door.

He looks at you hurt. “You here? Not on a date with the boy of your dreams?” he mocks.

“Um, your dad let me in and I believe we have to talk” you say undaunted by his sarcasm.

“About what do you want to talk?” he asks. You remain silent. “Ok fine let’s talk. What do you want to hear? You want to hear how badly Isaac annoys me or maybe you want to talk about how he’s been making those puppy eyes to you all week? Or maybe you want to hear how crazy I am about you and how this fucking situation is driving me crazy? Maybe you want to hear how badly I am in love with you? Just tell me what are you doing with that other guy? Why him?” he says with anger in his voice.

“You are mad at me? AT ME? I did nothing Stiles! You were the one scared to tell me about those feelings. This is on you, not me. You have no rights to to be mad at me for going out with Isaac because I had no fucking idea you love me!” you yell frustrated. Stiles licks his lips and looks at you.

One moment later you feel his lips pressing on yours. You kiss him back. He breaks the kiss and looks at you. He exhales “Why do you have to be that blind? I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. I fucking love you Y/N, you hear me?”. You nod and hug him. He gets you up and puts you on bed. He lays down next to you with your head on his chest. He smells amazing. He smells like home. He has been your best friend ever since and right now it feels wonderful. It feels amazing to be in his arms and to look at his beautiful eyes. You could feel that little heat near your heart.

You hear his heart beating rapidly. “I love you” you murmur into his chest “I love how smart you are, I love how much you care about others and I love how brave you can be. I love listening to your voice and looking into your eyes. I love every single detail about you and your personality.” You look at him.

“But I swear I’m gonna kill you if you are gonna be so jealous again. You broke Isaac’s nose.” You hear Stiles laughing “oh, he will heal”. You shake your head in disbelief “You are crazy.”

He smiles and kisses you “Crazy about you.”

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Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading! This one was requested ❤️ I’d appreciate a reblog or like. Thank you once again!