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crystalflygeo · 5 months

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Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Omega!Dragoness!Reader

cw/tags: Your usual mentions of slavery and sexual themes, A/B/O dynamics and heat mentions. Also allusions to depression and mentions of death.

notes: Aahahaha this took forever..... allow me top explain: first of all my new job is killing me and second of all I'm going through a hard period where I don't really like anything I write anymore. This work in particularly I kept struggling with the pacing, the dialogues, the way I wanted feelings to come across or scenes to flow it's just hhhnnnggg. I told a couple of friends that I set the bar so high with the first part I feel like nothing else I write will be that good. Then the second part was "ok" but cut off in a cliffhanger and has been there for SO LONG that now I feel this will be underwhelming after all the buildup//hit

I hope it's not. I hope it's good.

Anyway this part is in Zhongli's pov and contains flashbacks which will be fully in italics! Enjoy! and thanks for caring so much about this story ;w; ILU all <3

<- Part 2.

Your instincts mess up with your head.

Your crying and anxiety have simmered to a cold numbness.

Hours blur together, time loses meaning.

The doctor comes by sometimes. The maids bring you food. But everything feels… off, distant.

This doesn’t feel… like your usual heats.

You curl up and sob, a choked soft noise.

You don’t feel hot, but rather cold. Limbs weak. Dizzy.

Your heart aches.

You’re so tired.

And so sleepy…

Zhongli puts down the seal stamp and deflates back into his chair with a sigh, he must have read the same line at least five times already. He cannot concentrate at all. It’s not even been three days and each hour, each minute, feels eternal.

He’s already gotten so used to your presence, so smitten with you and your little quirks, your rare smiles, the way your ears and tail flicker, your pretty eyes…

And he remembers those same eyes begging for him, teary. Your pitiful cry. Your distressed scent.

Guilt eats at him. As well as something else…

He’s been restless, barely slept. Your scent is a siren’s song on the blankets, tart and fresh and tantalizing, but you are not with him. Anxious energy flows in his veins. This emotion, this thing that is like regret and sorrow and fear all tangled together, cleaves him through. His instincts are screaming at him, rattling inside a cage of his own making. His mate, his precious Omega is in heat, you’re scared and lonely and need him. Zhongli has to suppress a growl and feel the shudder of his scales at the fact that he’s not with you. In your nest. Taking care of you.

It’s agonizing.

"How is she?"

The same question, over and over, at any chance he gets.

"She refuses to eat, your majesty." Xiao tells him, and he can feel the concern in the younger Alpha’s voice. “According to the maids she only took a few bites of the ajilenak nuts, the rest of the food was left untouched.”

…

"She's um... she's always sleeping when I go check up on her." Ganyu explains a little crestfallen. She too is worried. “A-at least I think she’s in no pain… she was clinging to one of your hanfus.”

…

"You should go see her, Zhongli." Ping states, a rare serious expression on her usual gentle factions. “Baizhu says she’s going through the worst case of separation sickness he’s ever seen. Is that really what you want your poor Yin to go through?”

He lets out a frustrated rumble.

“Of course not. But it’s for the best, I don’t want to… take advantage of her, or force her to anything.” Zhongli frowns, trying to focus on the papers in front of him again, in an attempt to ignore her piercing gaze.

“Is it really any of that if she wants her mate?” Ping retorts. “She was begging you.”

I know.

He growls this time, and shakes his head at his memory of you. It haunts him.

“She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“So, you’re deciding for her then? Is that it? Honestly, are you listening to yourse-”

“She’s been conditioned to serve.” He cuts her off, voice grave and somber. “Trained to be submissive and please. She likes me simply because I’m kind to her, she wants me because she thinks it’s her obligation as my mate. I feel the pull of the bond too, the need, the yearning. But I also know she is afraid of Alphas and she thinks… she thinks she has to obey me. That she owes me something or that own her.” His eyes narrow. “I didn’t need to bond her. I shouldn’t have bonded her. I just… wanted her to be free and instead I chained her to me. And now she’s in heat…”

And it drives him insane.

“Listen to me, we’ve both spent time with her, enough to know she’s opening up and learning to voice her feelings…” Ping reasons gently. “It’s a slow process, don’t hurt her this way. At the very least… go see her.”

“I lost control once with just one kiss from her. I will not do it again. I will not harm her any further.”

The elderly woman keeps silent for a few moments. Zhongli sighs and rests his forehead in his palm in defeat.

And then Ganyu approaches, a little tense, a stack of papers in her hands.

“Your majesty, the Qixing are starting to arrive, council meeting will begin soon.”

“Very well. Thank you Ganyu.” He stands up and nods at her, then turns to Ping and his demeanor softens a little. “You know I just want to correct my mistakes, and give her the life she deserves. At least a fraction of it, of happiness.”

It wasn’t supposed to go this way… Zhongli sighed as he walked up to the room where the “reunion” with the sumerian would take place. It was long overdue seeing as he had spent the night by your side, refusing to leave after you had cried and begged so desperately…

After he had bonded you.

He had initially taken the eremite’s claims with a grain of salt, but naturally he had to make sure. The last dragonblood had supposedly died decades ago, so how…?

And yet when he saw you for the first time in that room, he knew.

You were real, you were beautiful. Suddenly he felt a million things at once: He wanted to get to know you, stay close to you, protect you. Old draconic instinct vibrating excitedly on his soul. You smelled vaguely familiar, your tail was gorgeous, your ears adorable. What if you didn’t like him though? What if he harmed you? Scared you? Suddenly he was nervous, nervous of ruining this, nervous in a way he hadn’t been in so long, like when he’d been young and Liyue had been at war and he had lost everything to fire and smoke and dust and he had to make difficult decisions and-

He had always calculated his moves. No room for risks. Too much at stake.

But you, you disarmed him. Completely.

You, with your polite gentleness despite the obvious cracks beneath the surface.

You, with your beautiful looks and enormous potential, even if you didn’t see it yourself.

You, with that look of yearning and hope, with your soft lips and sweet moans, with your warm body fitting perfectly against his.

For once, he allowed himself to make a decision with his heart, not logic, not politics. Just instincts.

And he claimed you…

…

He enters the room. A couple Millelith soldiers stationed by the door, Xiao standing by his side loyally as he sits at his place of honor as the emperor. Your ‘master’, an Alpha eremite named Zaheer, kneels respectfully a little below.

“I see you liked her, your majesty” He offers a sly smirk. “Did she satisfy you properly? She’s been trained on her gag reflexes to-”

Zhongli -Morax- resists the urge to growl. “We are not here to discuss that.”

“Ah, of course, business!”

Business.

“Since she’s such an exotic and well-trained slave I suppose we could agree on…”

“Do you think of me an idiot, Zaheer?” Morax’s eyes narrow.

“P-Pardon me?”

“She is a pureblood xiānshòu. I want to know exactly how she ended up being enslaved by you and your people.”

Cold and calculating golden eyes stare down at the eremite.

“W-What… she’s desert-born!” Zaheer retorts back angrily “She was born at a heat house. Maybe she has traits from your people because one of them decided to get a cheap fuck while traveling.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Morax asks unfazed “Liyue has records of the last of her kind disappearing and presumably being murdered when a village near Sumeru borders was razed to the ground. Do you have a disclosure?”

Zaheer stands up and growls, clearly an Alpha not used to having to bow his head and accept things not going his way.

Clearly an Alpha used to intimidating and attacking others.

Xiao wields his spear and changes his stance to an offensive one. The Millelith guards also tense.

Zaheer gets even more irritated, feeling like a caged animal. Backed into a corner. “Emperor or not” He starts through gritted teeth. “If you’re not going to pay me then I’ll take my merchandise back and do business elsewhere where I’m not being accused of ridiculous claims.”

“You’re right that I won’t be doing any business with you, but we’ll see how ridiculous those claims truly are. Zaheer, by my word as the emperor you will now remain detained in Liyue.” Morax sentences.

The eremite’s red eyes widen in shock and rage and the desert-dweller shoots up to attack Morax, getting easily overpowered and neutralized by Xiao’s quick moves. In seconds his weapon drops to the floor as the Yaksha general points his spear at the unconscious man. The Millelith quickly retrieve him and the blade before Morax simply nods at them.

Months. It had been months since then and he had to begrudgingly release the man as no accusation connected him to anything. They were essentially out of leads. There did appear to be documentation of your birth at a desert village but Zhongli would be hard pressed to believe the half-assed story you’ve been told…

And since you are pureblood, then both of your parents, and most importantly your dam, was also a dragonblood. That’s at the very least one Liyue citizen enslaved in a foreign nation.

He would get to the bottom of this.

For now, however, he had to cast those worries aside.

The Seven members of the council sit around the large table, the Liyue Qixing, leaders of all the commerce and trade sectors of the nation.

Zhongli takes his place at the head of the table. Ganyu does so as well by the sideline.

“Very well, what’s our first topic today?”

“Did Master just… leave?”

There was silence at the table, Zhongli and Ping sit frozen and you get just a bit nervous.

It’d been a few days since you started your new life, and though Zhongli was sure you were warming up to it he knew you still had a long way to go. It was probably still a little surreal for you… such a big change from everything you knew.

The tension on his shoulders quickly drops again. He continues eating. “Yes.” He says simply. Ping follows his lead, saying nothing.

The faster you forget about that eremite, the better.

“Hm…” You continue eating as well. Your expression is a little conflicted…

You inhale.

“Was he… happy… that I finally found a mate?”

Zhongli turns to you sharply and tenses again like a cat bristling. He holds back his tongue so as to not say something he’d regret. Why do you still care about that despicable man’s opinion? Why do you still seek his approval? Did you really think he cared about you? Zhongli desperately wants to make you understand how that slave-owner only saw you as an object, how he fed you lies, how his mistreatment is inexcusable…

But he can only imagine how deep your scars run, and how that toxic mindset has settled and accompanied you for years. He cannot judge you for caring about someone who doesn’t deserve it.

“Why do you ask, dear?” Ping asks instead.

“I don’t know…” You mumble, poking at the congee with your spoon. “I always wanted to make him proud.”

Proud.

Him?

“I think what matters most is how you feel.” Zhongli says, his hand reaching out for yours invitingly and you place your fingers on his palm, getting a soft reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to rely on how others view you or think about you.”

You seem thoughtful for a second, your ears flickering back insecure but then standing up alert again. “I am happy” You admit. “Very happy. I have the best mate in the world.” You smile brightly.

Zhongli’s heart does a flip.

“With the excessive rains in the northern villages, there have been many floods and a lot of crops have been severely damaged or lost. Our previous contingency plan is in action already and donations are being sent to help the affected families. However, we must prepare for a decline in the harvest of certain grains and vegetables this season, as well as an increase in prices for a few months due to the shift in demand and supply.” Keqing explains expertly, the young alpha’s expression is serious and solemn.

“It’s an opportunity to strengthen commerce with Mondstadt and Sumeru.” Ningguang chimes in, leaning back on her chair, arms crossed. “The value of jade and other crystals is on the rise as well.”

“Not to mention, we’ll be employing several architects from the Akademiya to help with the rebuilding.” Keqing adds, turning to Ganyu, who nods.

“Greater lord Rukkhadevata and lesser Lord Kusanali have agreed on a certain exchange program with Liyue. I started drafting up some proposals already if you’d like to see.” The blue-haired secretary passes along some documents.

Ningguang’s eyes skim along the page. “It’s almost like our new Sumeru-born empress was a sign.” She smirks. “By the way, where is she?” She turns to Zhongli, curious about her fellow Omega.

“She’s rather indisposed at the moment.” The emperor replies dryly, not wanting to delve much onto the touchy subject. “Ganyu this looks good, however we need to think about-”

There is a knock that quickly surprises everyone. Who could interrupt a council meeting and why?

Baizhu peeks in with Changsheng curled around his neck, a frown on his usually gentle features. “Your majesty, a word. It’s an emergency.”

All the members at the table stare silently as Zhongli stands and follows the doctor.

Ganyu has a bad feeling…

“We have no time, follow me.” The green-haired doctor walks briskly along the wooden corridors, he looks… frustrated, dejected.

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t want to panic. He never panics. But something inside him does. It’s obvious that this has to do with you.

“I apologize, your majesty. I thought it was just a case of separation sickness but… the empress is showing signs of widow’s wasting.”

Zhongli stops.

His heart skips a beat. His skin prickles with dread.

“She’s… dying?”

Baizhu shakes his head. “It hasn’t reached that point yet, but… she’s deteriorating.”

The guilt is back. The fear.

“Given what happened, I’m pretty certain the shock of your rejection was the trigger. Still, it is highly unusual for a Yin to suffer from widow’s wasting without their partner actually dying, even more so for it to settle so quickly. Her reaction is akin to someone who had never left their mate’s side for years.” Baizhu explains.

You trusted him.

And he turned his back on you.

What have I done?

“In any casssse, it’ssss not too late.” Changsheng’s little voice pipes in. Baizhu keeps leading the way and Zhongli follows, though he obviously knows the entire palace like the palm of his hand, at the moment his thoughts are scattered and far far away.

“She needs her mate’s reassurance. I have done what I can with medicine but this is a bonded pair matter.” Finally, he stops at a juncture and turns to Zhongli. “Please, your majesty, only you can save her. I will tell Ganyu, Xiao and Ping of the situation, and if you need anything, just ask.”

Zhongli nods, mute.

The snake narrows her eyes. “Don’t leave her sssside.”

“Changsheng.” Baizhu shushes.

She is right to chastise him. He deserves that and more.

“I won’t.” Zhongli nods and heads down the hall.

Widow’s wasting.

The words echo in his head. He’s seen the damage it can do. How a broken bond, the loss of the most important person, can destroy someone inside. Did you really care that much about him? Did he really hurt you that badly?

“Please…”

He didn’t mean to.

“I have the best mate in the world.”

He feels like a monster.

“I want to stay with you. Sleep together. Like mates.”

He needs to see you. He needs to make sure you’re ok…

He stands in front of the nest room. The same one where he first met you.

Opening the doors only slightly to slip inside, Zhongli's eyes widen and a hand flies to cover his nose and mouth when a strong smell shakes him to his very core.

The room he expected to be completely saturated with intense heat pheromones… instead bears the acrid scent of despair.

This isn’t the lustful call to breed and have children that made an omega vulnerable and pliant. No. It is a desperate cry from a heartbroken omega for their mate to come back, to stay with them, to love and protect them. It is grief.

You are suffering because of him.

To think all this time… he was afraid he'd make you uncomfortable. That he’d scare you, hurt you, ruin the bond you’ve carefully built. Instead, he is overcome by an all-consuming terror. Every part of him screaming at his mate's weak essence.

And there you are, his precious treasure, his sweet dragoness.

You lay curling in on yourself letting out small muffled sobs.

“Y/n…”

No reaction.

“Darling, my dear dragoness…” He rushes up to you immediately, grabs your hand and pets your hair. You look so weak, your skin is feverish, how has it only been three days? It feels like a lifetime…

You shift a little and your eyes blink open, staring at him dazed, red and puffy and your expression defeated. You let out a pitiful whine and more of that bitter sad scent is released.

“No my dear, don’t cry, I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Zhongli coos as he curls up to you, frantically starting to scent and nip at your neck and shoulders affectionately. His horns manifest and his tail follows through, lashing about a little restless. The bond… feels wrong, broken. He should be able to intimately feel you this close and yet…

He tries to reposition you a little so you can lie on top of him, rest on his chest. It’s concerning how easily he can do so, you’re like a ragdoll in his arms, unresponsive and unmoving. His hands cup your face, thumbs rubbing at the traces of tears in your cheeks. You let out a frustrated whimper. “Shhhh shh it’s okay. I’m so sorry.”

Even if he says it a million times, it won’t feel enough.

Zhongli nuzzles at your neck and proceeds to do something he hasn’t done since he was practically a teen. He purrs. It’s a little rusty, comes off more as a grumbling but it seems to work as he feels you relax just slightly in his arms.

“I’m right here” Zhongli’s deep voice assures you, tugging you closer, mouthing at the soft skin along your collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m all yours, I promise, I promise. I won’t leave you alone, not ever.” He soothes.

He lowers a bit of your clothes at the shoulder and grazes his fangs along your faded mark, you tense and let out a long shaky breath.

“Everything will be ok.” He kisses the spot. “I’m sorry.”

And then he sinks his fangs in to reestablish the claim.

You cry out in pain and squirm, clawing at his clothes, but he holds you, his hand rubbing circles at your back, his tail intertwining with yours.

...

.....

...

At first nothing changes, but after a few moments… a low strained purr bubbles up from within you again.

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heartofwritiing · 1 year

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His sweater

paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!cc!reader (featuring cc!tommy and cc!tubbo)

summary: you and wilbur are in a private relationship and one day while you’re streaming chat recognizes the sweater you’re wearing.

authors note: I wrote this a while back when I was coming back into writing. I'm sorry if its not as good as my usual stuff. the reader is a small streamer but she's close with all the britsh ccs, (bc she lives in the uk) she and wilbur are dating and no one knows not even their friends! but some of them do suspect it! I thought it was cute not sure if it's been done before and I really enjoyed writing it!!

warnings: secret relationship, anxiety attack, fluff, not proofread, and unedited!

It was supposed to be a relaxed stream, chatting and hanging out before Wilbur got home. That’s what it started as. You logged onto Twitch around 7:40 or so, after hanging out with Tommy and the gang for the day.

Wilbur had gone to his office. He told you to head off without him and said he would be home in an hour or two after he finished editing. That was fine with you. You didn’t mind when he worked late since you didn’t go to bed until around midnight.

No one knew you and Wilbur were together. Like together, together. They thought you were close friends. Not even your friends knew you and sometimes hanging out with them was hard because you wanted to be all

It's not that you were embarrassed by each other. You wanted your privacy and time together to be yours and yours alone. You knew everyone in the group could be eccentric about romantic relationships. You knew deep down they would be happy for you but this was something you and Wilbur agreed to keep secret. For a while at least.

Only a few times have you let it slip when you were out with friends. Everyone knew you two were close so it wasn't that odd to see you being close.

Phill was the only one who knew what was going on. Because once he had caught Wilbur taking your hand in his while you walked side by side. You both completely forgot he was walking right behind you. Separating your hand from Wilbur's when Phill was giving you a knowing glance out of the corner of your eye. Wilbur felt you let go of his hand and he turned to you pouting.

Wilbur got the message completely, seeing Phil smirk back at him. Then, to make matters worse Tommy caught on to Phill being suspicious about something all day. Hence began the young blonde bugging him about what he was all smirking about all day.

Then there were times when you both streamed together. Whether it be at your house or even playing on the SMP, sometimes things would slip out on both your faults.

Like you’ll flirt with each other, or he’ll call you love, or darling. Small things that not everyone can catch onto. Everyone thinks you’re roleplaying anyways but you both know it's not. If you’re on stream you’ll hold your hands under the desk out of view of the webcam. Wilbur would caress your knuckles with his thumb, letting you know he was there. Or you’ll lay your heads on each other’s shoulders during late-night streams when you’re so tired. Little things like that, and of course chat goes nuts for it.

They think it’s adorable how close you guys are. You love it too. , some people ship you guys but you ignore it, not caring about what they think. It wasn’t anyone's business.

So here you were taking a sip of water from your bottle and as you read the chat a donation came up and it made you perk up.

“Alyssa thank you for the four months!” you read off the donation with a smile. It made you happy that people wanted to stick around with your channel and found it a safe community to fall back on. That was what you wished for.

Your chat was going slow as usual since only about 2,000 or so people were watching. You were comfortable in your little corner.

Your eyes skimmed through the incoming text on your monitor. You froze when you saw a particular statement about your attire.

User: Wait is that Wilbur's sweater?!

You didn’t dare say anything as you tried to shake it off but the comments kept coming in after that faster than before. Everyone seemed to recognize it since he often wore this one in videos.

You had forgotten Wilbur gave you his sweater sometime early in the night. It wasn’t cold in Brighton during the day, it was warm in the sun. The perfect weather for a band shirt and your favorite pair of comfy pants. But after sunset, you had gotten chilly and Wilbur had offered you his sweater.

You shivered as the chilly wind made goosebumps rise on your arms. You wished you had brought a jacket before going out. You forgot to check the weather and you didn’t think you’d be staying out all day. It was fine, you weren’t going to make a big deal out of it.

Wilbur, who is walking with Tommy glances in your direction. Noticing your shivering state with your arms crossed, you failed to warm yourself up.

Without hesitation, Wilbur pulls his yellow jumper over his head and jogs to catch up with you. Holding out his arm with the sweater all bunched up in his hand, he nudged you.

You turn to look at him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the realization of why he was handing you his sweater. He had noticed you were chilly and your stomach grew butterflies.

"You're shivering. I don’t want you to catch a cold."

You felt warm inside. You never thought you’d find the typical romantic gestures appealing but then you met Wilbur. Who proved you wrong. He was always a gentleman. It made you fall in love with him more and more.

You take it gratefully and put it on. The bright yellow contrasted against y/h/c and somehow made your skin glow. It made you look happy somehow, but it could be the fact you were wearing your boyfriend's sweater. The smell of his cologne faintly lingers on it.

Wilbur blushed and felt a bit dizzy seeing you wearing his clothes sometimes, and now it was the same case. He thought you looked adorable and was glad he could help you be warmer.

“Thanks, Will,” you smiled.

You almost stood on your toes to kiss his cheek but stopped yourself short. You didn’t want the others to see. Wilbur didn’t care. He leaned right over and kissed your head quickly.

"Of course, darling."

You smiled at the memory of two hours ago as the chat was still spamming you with questions. You tried to ignore it so you booted up your saved game of Stardew Valley. Knowing everyone wanted an update on your farm.

As you played you would glance over to your other monitor and notice chat wasn’t letting up about the sweater. It was getting a bit on your nerves since chat was getting a little hectic and you wanted to have a normal stream. Suddenly you heard an alert for Discord on your computer and you perked up like a golden retriever.

“Oh hold on chat, I’m getting a message!” you say opening up Discord on the opposite screen, just in case. Hopefully, someone wants to join you for a game or chat with you for a while. You were optimistic about finding out.

You saw it was from Tubbo. You immediately got excited seeing a notification from one of your closest friends. Your eyes read his message carefully making your heart sink to your stomach.

Tubbo: Hey, Y/N I don’t mean to alarm you but you’re trending on Twitter. I think you should check it out.

Below his message was a link and you clicked on it hesitantly, assuming the worst you were bracing yourself for. Twitter opened up to reveal a whole thread of posts involving various screenshots. You sat in your desk chair with your messy hair and Wilbur's sweater clinging to your body.

You tried not to show too much emotion on your face while you scrolled. Knowing that all your now 4,000 viewers were watching you with every beat.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as all this attention was starting to overwhelm you.

You typed back a reply to Tubbo.

This is bad, right?

You were trying so hard to keep it together, everyone was figuring out your secret. You didn’t want everyone to find out this way, especially not your friends. They deserve better.

No no no, they don’t know what they’re talking about and just ignore it.

Easier said than done tubs.

ik ik

I was watching your stream and I noticed chat being nosey and I could tell you were uncomfortable. Are you okay?

You moved your eyes back to the chat again. It was going even faster now. Your viewer count had gone up even more. Everyone was asking why you were being so quiet all of a sudden. You apologized to everyone before returning to your chat screen with Tubbo.

“I'm sorry guys just message my friend real quick.”

Yeah.

Listen y/n if it's true or not I’m happy for you either way.

I'm sorry you had to find out this way.

Don’t be. It’s not your fault.

Does anyone else in the group know?

Just me. And technically Ranboo but he hasn’t figured it out.

You giggled at that.

You were so enthralled talking with Tubbo that you didn’t even hear the front door open. Will was home, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his flat keys.

You typed to Tubbo that you were going to end the stream. Make up some excuse that you were too tired but you didn’t want to seem suspicious. That’s when Wilbur snuck up behind you and leaned down so that he could wrap his arms around your shoulders.

Chat went even crazy. Spelling his name in all caps. Chaos. Absolute chaos.

You instantly froze at the contact and stayed like that for a good solid couple of seconds in shock. The smirk on Wilbur's lips was still prominent, but what he did next stunned you more than you already were.

Wilbur leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek tenderly. His lips lingered on your skin. Burning. You always felt this way when he kissed you. It was sweet and brief. You could feel his breath across your skin when he pulled away. Like it wasn't a big deal that he simply kissed you in front of thousands of people. Looked up at your monitor and smirked when he saw your chat going ballistic.

“Oh are you streaming?” he asked. Of course, he knew you were streaming, and yes he did see the tag trending. Tubbo had messaged him as well and Wilbur thought now was the best time to reveal. He wanted everyone to know you were his, and he was yours. So he hatched a scheme in his head to surprise you by coming home while you were still streaming. So, you were in shock that your boyfriend had come in and kissed your cheek on camera. In front of your viewers.

You were a bit mad at him at the moment. Then you saw how cute he looked with his head resting on your shoulder as he watched the chaos issue from his work.

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag now huh darling?” he hummed into your ear softly.

It made you flustered when you felt his lips brush your ear.

“Now everyone knows you're mine.”

Your heart was beating a million miles per second. You couldn’t believe it was happening. You were so relieved and yet kinda annoyed with Wilbur at the same time for sneaking up on you. You wanted to swipe that cheeky grin off his face. He could be such a smart ass sometimes, but you love him for it.

Now would be a good time to end this. You thought as you cleared your throat and kept your eyes on the chat log.

"Well, that's enough for me tonight, goodnight.” You finally say quickly, coming out of your flustered state.

"Bye chat,” Wilbur waves.

As soon as the outro screen came on you logged out of Twitch. Immediately, you lay your face in your hands and began crying. Wilbur grew concerned.

"Y/N?" He spun your chair around to face him. He got down to his knees in front of you and placed his hands on your arms. Your heart was beating in your ears, pounding as the situation became too much. Hitting that end stream button brought a sense of relief now that you could finally take it all in. Everyone knew. There was no going back from this. You were so sure that you'd never get a break from the constant questions and judgment that come with being a content creator.

Besides you on the table, your phone was going off like crazy, vibrating and shaking with alerts. You lifted your head to stare at it in fright. Wilbur detected your uneasiness immediately and grabbed your phone to shut it off completely before turning his attention back to you.

He brings his hand up to tuck strands of your hair out of your face and behind your ears. You try your best to begin a breathing exercise to calm yourself down.

Inhale through the nose.

Exhale out of the mouth

Wilbur's touch begins to calm your racing mind and heart. His voice anchors you back to the surface of your deepest thoughts.

Breath. Just breathe.

“That's it, in and out."

When you finally get your breathing down to somewhat normal and you surpass a panic attack. Wilbur doesn't say anything. Just holding you until you’re ready.

“I'm sorry,” you whimper and squeeze your eyes shut in shame. Tears flow out again as Wilbur shushes you.

“Don’t be sorry, don't." He chastised.

“It was just a lot.” You sniffled.

“I know, but it's going to be okay, you know why?”

You shake your head from side to side.

“Because I love you so much, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It’s you and me,” he reassured.

You smile tearfully. “I love you too.”

The rest of the night you are spent curled up next to Wilbur, your phones turned off to enjoy some time together away from the internet. The sudden sound of your PC exploding with the sound of the discord call ringtone has you groaning and pausing the movie you both were watching. You had forgotten to shut it down during the chaos. Wilbur goes over to your monitor to turn it off but sees it's Tommy calling. Reluctantly he answers and the room is filled with the teen's loud voice.

“Why didn't you guys tell me!” he shouted, his voice breaking up through the speakers due to his loudness.

“Hello to you too Tommy,” Wilbur spoke.

“Wilbur! I never thought you’d get any women!”

Wilbur glared over at you as you burst into laughter. It was clear that Tommy was surprised and happy for you both but he was also being his obnoxious self.

“Alright Im hanging up now,” Wilbur says.

“No, no!” he laughed. “Im genuinely really happy for you two,”

“Thanks, toms!” you shouted from your spot on the couch.

“Thank you Y/N!!” Tommy exclaims. ”See Wilbur, at least someone appreciates my remorseful attitude,”

Wilbur rolls his eyes and ends the call, shutting down your pc so no one else could bother you. You laughed as he made his way back over to you on the sofa so you could continue your movie. Wilbur was likely going to try and protect you from being bombarded by your friends too much if you decided tomorrow that you'd talk to everyone, You were nervous to face them but you would know that nothing was going to change that your friends supported you.

#wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur x reader #mcyt fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #wilbur soot x fem!reader #mcyt x reader #fluff #mcyt imagine #cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader #wilbur x reader #cc x reader

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vivwritesfics · 8 months

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Romanced

Reader is best friends with Lando. That was how she met Oscar. Lovely, wonderful Oscar. When he makes it clear he wants to take things further, she doesn't, and she's scared to tell him

Reader is asexual/doesn't like sex. The thought of it is terrifying and she's afraid of telling Oscar that.

This one is really fucking personal to me you guys so I hope you like it 🫶🫶🫶 (short but I'm writing this in the five minutes I have before class)

Warnings: mentions if being forced into sex

"How was the date with Oscar last night?"

Of course Lando was going to ask, he was her best friend. It was his way of looking out for her. But she would have been surprised if he didn't already try to pry all of the tea from Oscars hands.

Not that Oscar would spill, he was respectful like that.

"Lando," she said as she sat down opposite. "Out of all of your teammates, I think he's my favourite."

Lando laughed at that. He smiled with his tongue poking between his teeth. "You got some last night, didn't you?" He asked and she immediately froze up. Of course, Lando didn't read this as anything other than her being bashful about it. So, he continued, "You've got that post nut glow."

"Never ever say that again," she said immediately as she shivered. But then she really thought on his words. If Lando had expected her to sleep with Oscar, what did Oscar think? Was he expecting to be invited back to her bed when he walked her home after dinner?

Lando looked at her, watched the way her demeaner changed. "Either you fucked and it was terrible or you didn't fuck but you wish you did," he said and Y/N smacked his arm. It was a playful smack, but still a smack.

He held up his hands defensively. "I get it, I get it. A lady doesn't kiss and tell."

Kissing. She'd liked kissing Oscar. That was all they did when he came back to her apartment. Maybe him pulling her into his lap was a sign. A sign that he wanted more. Wanted something she couldn't give him.

This was always the aftermath of a date for her. Over thinking everything until she convinced herself she was unlovable, that nobody would ever want her because of her incapabilities.

But she liked Oscar. She really liked him. This couldn't be goodbye, could it?

All of these thoughts and she hadn't even spoken to Oscar yet.

Oscar. He wasn't like her, he wasn't worrying about how the date went because they didn't sleep together. It would have been nice, sure, but it wasn't a necessity.

He had a lovely time with a lovely girl that he couldn't wait to get to know better. He already had their fourth date planned out.

This was the one where he was going to ask her to be his. It was going to happen over the Australian grand prix weekend. He was going to pack a picnic basket and a blanket and take her to a nice secluded area. It would be an afternoon of laying in the sun, enjoying each other.

When he walked into the garage, she was already there with Lando. He let a wide smile takeover his face as he looked at her. God, she really was something. Oscar was kicking himself that he hadn't asked her out the year prior. But he was just a rookie then, he had bigger things to worry about.

She smiled back, but it didn't reach her eyes. Quickly her attention turned away from him, turning to Lando.

That was odd, Oscar thought. But he didn't go over there and challenge her on it. She was probably just tired, they'd stayed up pretty late the night before.

When he got a chance to catch her alone, Oscar grabbed her by her elbow and dragged her into an empty corridor. She didn't protest, she was used to this by now. It was rather endearing.

"Hey," he said, standing over her. He wore that same smile from the morning.

"Hey," she replied, in the same smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Oscar was fiddling with his fingers, clearly nervous. "So," he said as though he was stalling himself. "Date number four." He sucked in a breath, his cheeks pink. "I've got something pretty big planned."

Her anxiety kicked into overdrive. No, no, no. They hadn't had sex on the third date so Oscar was going out of his way to make it happen on the fourth. She couldn't do this. She really couldn't do this.

"Look, Oscar," she interrupted before he could say anything else. "I really like you. I really really like you, but it's not going to work." End it now before he decides he doesn't like what you're all about.

"Oh," Oscar said, the expression dropping from his face. He looked like a kicked puppy that had been left out in the rain. It was heartbreaking.

So, she did what she thought best. She turned around and took off.

***

Lando called her an idiot. Several times over he called her an idiot. Even once she'd explained, he'd called her an idiot.

"You never know, he might have been really understanding," he said as he gripped his hair out of frustration. That was where he was at with her.

"Understanding like the last guy?" She challenged. Lando frowned. He never quite knew what went on between her and her ex, just that he was an asshole. "Lan, I tried explaining it to him, and he made me feel like a freak. Even after all that he still force me into it," she said through a broken sob.

Lando opened his arms and she collapsed into them. "It's okay," he said. "I've got you." His finger was tracing soothing circles up and down her back. "Oscars not like that, I promise," he said, "you at least owe him an explanation."

That she could agree to. She stayed with Lando for just a few more minutes before pushing away from him. He gave her a reassuring, encouraging smile as she left.

Oscars room wasn't very far away from Landos. She knocked on his door and waited patiently for him to answer.

When Oscar opened the door, surprise was painted across his face. "Oh," he said. "For some reason I didn't expect to see you." But that didn't come as a surprise to her.

"Can I come in?" She asked somewhat timidly, and Oscar stepped aside.

His hotel room was a lot tidier than Lando's, who threw his clothes around the moment he took them off. Oscar sat on the bed and patted the space beside him.

Kicking off her shoes she sat and tucked her legs beneath him. "I was speaking to Lando and I realised I owe you an explanation," she said, staring straight forward. "Because, I would have loved to have gone on that fourth date with you, but I was scared," she confessed.

Oscar wanted to ask her, but he sat there, let her speak.

"So, the third date is normally where sex happens, right? At least in all of the movies it's where sex happens. With my ex I don't think we even made it to the third date." She shook her head, dismissing that train of thought. "We didn't have sex on our third date and I was scared that you'd had it planned for the fourth."

She was quiet, waiting for Oscar to say something. "So, you don't want to sleep with me?"

"God, no," she said a little too quickly, not quite realising what she was saying. "I mean, I don't want to sleep with anybody. The thought of it terrifies me and I didn't know how to tell you because I was scared you'd no longer... want... me."

It sounded so stupid once she'd said it, she realised. How could he want her now? After she'd just said that.

But she didn't give him a chance to answer. She was going to say it all first. "But I like being romanced by you," she said. "I like romancing you. I like it when you hold my hand, when we kiss, when you hold my face and everything. I liked it when you pulled me into your lap, but I don't think I could take it further."

She was quiet after that, giving Oscar time to process the information. He took a good minute, trying to sort through it. She had spoken awfully quick.

"So," he finally said after too much silence. "If I told you our fourth date was going to be a picnic in Australia, would you be okay with that?" He asked, his words slow.

The way her eyes lit up, he'd never forget it. "Yes, Oscar, yes!" She cried, throwing her arms around him.

Oscar kissed her head. "I think I'm okay with just romancing you," he said and she could t stop the grin from covering her face. A grin he could look at forever, if he got the chance.

#f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x you #f1 #f1 imagine #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader

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yelena-belovas-gun · 8 months

Text

Overworked (Natasha Romanoff)

Summary: You end up working a little too much.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!engineer!reader

Warnings: Overworking, tension, stress, anxiety, sickness, fever.

Requested by the following bao bun: @splat-tasha

Translations: 1. Detka: baby 2. Malyshka: baby girl 3. Dorogoy: darling 4. Moya lyubov: my love

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

Honestly, working with S.H.I.E.L.D was very well paying, well-rewarding, and worth all the effort you put into it. You loved building things for the agents, coming up with new designs for weapons and bringing them up from graphite on paper into metal on gunpowder.

Natasha had to admit, though...you overdid it sometimes. You'd sometimes lose days of sleep over some new variation of a weapon, or while repairing a broken jet. Now, the bags under your eyes had pretty much become your personal accessory.

"Detka, please, don't overwork yourself..." she'd mutter against your hair as she cuddled your tired body after you'd finally let yourself rest.

"I won't, darling, I swear..." you'd mumble, but it would end up being a lie within the next two days, maximum.

This time, it went a little too far.

The entire day, you'd shown small signs that you were slowly falling sick from the amount you were working. Starting with your sudden loss of appetite, to blinking for a few seconds longer than any normal person would deem healthy.

"L/n, I need this ray gun fixed, asap," one of the agents said, handing you the said weapon. You shook your head to clear your foggy senses and nodded, taking it.

Later that day, Fury called you to his office and described a new kind of weapon they'd need for a stealth mission, and of course, you agreed to have the prototype ready within three days.

"Hey, Y/n, can you fix my pistols?" Maria asked you after that interaction, handing you a box. "For some reason, the safety isn't coming on on either of them since my niece messed with them, and I cannot have guns without a safety lock in the house..."

"N-no issue, Keya..." you mumbled, addressing her by the wrong name in your tiredness.

"Keya?" she raised a brow.

"Shit, sorry, I meant Maria..." you apologised, embarrassed. "I'm a bit tired, sorry. I'll have the guns fixed by tomorrow, no issue."

She smiled and thanked you, walking away.

You continued to walk around and work like a corpse, and felt the need for several cups of very strong coffee throughout the course of the day.

Natasha felt her gut telling her something was wrong, and decided to go and check on you.

And thank every merciful god that she did.

You were a mess, your workshop was like a hurricane hit it and it then got ransacked by an army of wild cats.

Nuts and bolts littered the floor, pages were scattered across two worktables joined together, grease stained the floor, and a concerning number of coffee cups were strewn around.

She heard the buzzing of a soldering iron and saw you at a worktable which had some of the surface visible. Your hands, which were normally so steady, were trembling, and you looked like you wanted to pass out as you fixed the safety lock of Maria's guns.

You got a phone call, and didn't notice Nat as you answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Hey, Y/n, it's Phil. Coulson," came the voice from the other line. "So, um, I know you fixed my car earlier this week, but I got into a bit of a scuffle...the engine's not starting up and I think I screwed up the oil tank while I was at it cause this bugger won't fill up at all."

You exhaled heavily, putting a grease-stained, and shockingly blistered hand to your forehead, making another black mark appear on your skin. "I'll come over tomorrow to look at it, Dave."

"...Dave? What the hell?" His voice sounded confused and irritated, making you click your tongue in annoyance and sigh.

"I'm sorry, that's the thirdtimetoday..." you muddled your words together as well, making him as you to repeat. "I said it's the third time I've messed up someone's name."

"No problem, just can you fix it?" He asked.

"Yeah," you bade him goodbye and cut the call, going over to your whiteboard, where an array of tasks and their deadlines were listed out.

Natasha was horrified to see how many of them were marked for each day.

"Y/n, what the fuck?" Natasha gasped, seeing your hand shake and seeing you screw up Phil's name spelling on the board thrice.

You turned around and gripped the edge of a chair for support. You had a headache, and now were too dizzy to stand.

"O-oh...h-hi, Tasha..." you smiled at her.

"Don't you 'hi Tasha' me, idiot!" She stormed over to you, but nevertheless took your greasy hand in hers tenderly. "Detka, you are so overworked..." she felt how cold your hands were and immediately checked your temperature.

Fever.

"And you have a fever!" She gasped, "Why didn't you tell me you were sick!?"

"I'm not sick...am I?" Your eyes widened as you looked at the board, panicking. "No, no, no, I can't fall sick! I have so many things to give by tomorrow!"

"Y/n," Natasha's voice was scarily firm as she held you in place, forcing you to look into her eyes. "I am taking you home, and you will rest, or else."

"But Tasha..." you whined, but she was having non of it.

"Moya lyubov, moya dorogoya," she sighed, petting your hair and speaking as if you were a five year old, "You need rest, otherwise you'll fall sicker. Now, go and wait in the car."

"...yes, Tasha..." you mumbled like a five year old, and walked off.

Natasha was like an angry mama bear as she stormed into Nick Fury's office.

"Nicholas Fury, how dare you run Y/n to such levels of exhaustion that she's fallen sick!" She exclaimed, seething. "She has a fever, she is literally stumbling around and surviving on unhealthy amounts of caffeine, and is mixing up people's names! How dare you treat her like a machine! she fixes machines, doesn't mean she is one!"

Fury sighed and remained calm in the face of the livid assassin. "Please, tell Y/n to keep her projects on hold, and that she has nothing to worry about because we will pay for this sick leave. Happy?"

"Very. Now if I ever see this happen again, I will commit murder, and it will be yours." She turned on her heel and stalked off, back to the car where you were.

She got into the driver's seat and kept you nicely warm in her jacket, till you both got home.

"Now, malyshka, please rest," she kissed your forehead and smiled after she'd tucked you into bed.

"Thank you, Tasha..." you mumbled. she lay beside you and gently stroked your hair, stopping after you fell asleep, and cuddled you to recovery.

Maybe overworking had it's own perks...

THE END.

#natasha romanoff #shield #natasha romanoff x reader #femreader #engineer!y/n #wlw #bisexual #lesbian

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jeysmullet · 2 months

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Hi there!! Could I please request a Jey fic, about him having baby fever and having to convince reader to stop contraceptives.

The way you make me feel | Jey Uso

jey uso x female!wife!reader

warnings: swearing, talks of creampies, mentions of birth control, anxiety, jey is pure nasty. no actual smut tho because i don’t know if that’s something you didn’t want!

short !! sorry:(

y/n fatu

The house was quiet as I sat alone at the kitchen island studying the unopened pack of birth control that had just been delivered. I had been taking them ever since my career in WWE had taken off, simply due to the fact that i didn’t want to mess up my job just because I ended up pregnant. I snap out of my daze as I hear the garage door open and shut. I hear footsteps get closer to the kitchen before i feel a pair of arms wrap around me, i slightly turn my head to look at my husband, who had already been looking at me, smiling.

“what’s up mama,” Josh looked away from me and looked at the packaging in my hand, making his face drop, before looking back at me , “you still taking those?”

I roll my eyes laughing at his mood change, “yes I am, Josh, you know it’s too risky for me to stop taking them, especially cause someone likes to nut in me every time we fuck, acting like you can’t wait to get me pregnant.”

I heard Josh suck his teeth before bringing his hands down to my hips, guiding me off of the island stool i was sitting on. He turns me to face him before he runs his ring cluttered fingers over the fabric of my grey sundress, before his hands land on my backside. “I mean can you blame me, baby? I mean fuck, you know how many people would die to be in my position. How many people would die to be the one fucking you every night and filling your pretty pussy up till nut is spilling out. Of course, I want a baby with yo little sexy ass.” Josh spanks my ass making me gasp.

“I mean Josh, are we even ready for a kid? We’re on the road all the time.” I spoke softly as Josh pulls me close enough to him so I can feel his dick print, through the sweatpants he was wearing, on my thigh.

“Mama, we can always take time off. I wanna start a family with you. I’ve wanted to ever since i saw yo ass in them lil ass shorts at the performance center. I automatically thought damn she fine as hell, she definitely gon have my kids.” I laugh before slapping him on the chest.

“I’m for real, Josh. A kid is a lot of work. I want you to be serious with me if you want to go through with this with me.” Josh brought his hands back to my ass, cupping it. “I am serious. I’ve always wanted you to be the mother of my kids. Shit the process of making them a plus too.” I laugh as I roll my eyes.

“Fine, I’ll stop taking the birth control.” Josh’s face lights up at my words before he looks behind me on the island table, reaching over and grabbing the box of pills before making his way over to the trash can, throwing them away. He turned back to me with a big ass grin on his face. “You know they say practice makes perfect!” Josh runs over to me, grabbing me and lifting me up, making me wrap legs around him, giggling. In the process of my legs wrapping around him, my dress comes up exposing the fact that i wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Josh looks down before looking back up at me. “Oh yeah, we finna practice all night.” He says smirking before carrying me to the bedroom, where he kept his word. We did infact practice alllllll night.

THE END

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso imagine #jey uso fic #jey uso smut #wwe #wwe imagine

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carowleysposts · 6 months

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Good Omens makes me feel scary things. Let’s talk about it.

So, before I start, I think it’s important to clarify that I am neurodivergent. I have autism and GO is one of my strongest hyper-fixations ever. I am so emotionally and mentally invested in it I could talk about it for days on end and every single detail of this show makes me love it more.

But there’s a really really dark flip side to this love, and I would love to see if there’s anyone else who struggles with it too:

I think I care a little too much.

Although I am aware that this is somewhat “common” for people in the spectrum and my doctors all have confirmed I am not a complete nut case for it, I almost never feel comfortable admitting to those in my life that a piece of fiction has such a strong hold on me and my mental health. And as much as I love everything we’ve seen so far, all the little things I hear and read about season three give me heart-stopping waves of anxiety that are definitely not normal.

Like, I am constantly scared of what will happen, as if it was happening to me. And I know it’s embarrassing, but my brain is simply wired differently, and it feels so awful not being able to talk about it with my friends in real life.

Sometimes I feel like my day is ruined because I read someone say that they think S3 won’t have a happy ending, or that they probably won’t kiss or end up together or something bad like that. And even though I know it’s just fiction, it gives me stomach knots, as it is such a powerful part of my life and I think about is so much.

I have even come as far as to take breaks from Tumblr and mute some words on some social media platforms so that I won’t read Neil’s responses to questions - because they ALSO make me fear terribly and give me crippling anxiety, like when he said it won’t be romantic, or when he says stuff that make me worry for the future - and won’t hear speculation or even be reminded of other stuff people say.

And before anyone asks: Yes! I am fully aware it sounds absurd. And yes, i absolutely do feel crazy and embarrassed about it, but unfortunately this is the reality of many people in the spectrum and many neurodivergent people in general.

I do work, I am a ballet teacher and an author, so of course I have many other things to worry about and do and of course I have a life full of responsibilities and relationships and different pursuits to keep me from actually thinking about it nonstop. But still, even though I am busy and distracted most of the time, every now and then these feelings and worries come and punch me in the gut, and it completely paralyzes me for long moments. I feel kinda sick? I don’t know.

So I guess what I am trying to ask is: do you guys know of anyone who feels the same? Like, is there anyone else who feels like their mind has been absolutely taken over by fiction-related anxiety? And also: what should I do about it? I feel like absolutely no other piece of fiction compares to this one, and my mind simply won’t stop.

Help pls.

#good omens #aziracrow #neil gaiman #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #gomens #angel #gomens s2 #prime video #anthony j crowley #crowleys bentley #aziraphale x crowley

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a-twistedheartslonging · 7 months

Text

Floyd/Reader Mafia AU

Injuries, masochism on Floyd's end, stitching wounds, mentions of violence, no sex but Floyd is weird and busts a nut.

They/Them used for the reader.

Floyd is going to get himself killed…young too.

They couldn't help but think it as they kneeled between the needlessly long legs of said man, seated on a well-worn leather stool. The make shift surgery room was quiet save for the sound of their shared breaths and the dripping of the near by sink's leaky faucet.

From what they heard from the others the job was supposed to be something simple. “Just in and out.”

I really shouldn't be surprised. It made sense Floyd would be the one to complicate things…again. He’s a smart and clever person, they knew this well but…boredom can be dangerous when it comes to certain people.

They couldn't help but let out a tired sigh.

Of course, he would be the one to turn it into a shoot-out.

And now they are picking buckshot and glass of out Floyd's bleeding side. His face would tighten up in pain for a moment, showing off sharp teeth, before relaxing slightly and letting out a giggle.

Floyd always did seem to enjoy the strangest things.

They look from their work for a moment and into his eyes, they see that manic spark that always seemed to glow brighter whenever he saw them.

Floyd…wanted them, they knew that. Why he did? They really didn't know. They weren't self sure like like him or the others, not strong, or particularly interesting. Hell they weren't even a real doctor, just a medical school dropout.

Not breaking eye contact he spoke. “Fuck Doc, it hurts.” He let out a groan before a grin becgain to spread on his face.“I gotta make sure to kill that fella next time.”

They quickly looked away, bringing their eyes back to their work.

Aaah I really hope I don’t have to see when it happens.

Nervously they picked out another piece of glass, being as gentle as they could with the jagged tear in his flesh.

They heard a hiss coming from him when removing this shard before dropping it into a metal container with the others. A large hand suddenly gripped their shoulder and pulled them up some, causing them to let out a startled noise.

“Eh, Doc, can't ya be more careful? It might leave a scar.”

They tried to keep neutral it but couldnt help but make a face at that.

Oh please. They knew full well he liked his scars, he even thought they made him look cool. They lost count of how many times he would show them off and insisted they touch them and…he keeps calling them that. He must really like making fun of them.

“Stop…stop calling me that.”

“Huh? Nah, don't think so. You're my cute little Doctor Shrimp, always patching me up.”

They look over his shoulder to stare at the wall as he speaks, eye contact would be too much. Especially with their position. Being between a grown man's legs certainly wasn't helping with their anxiety, nor did they make it a habit to be around men in such a way.

“You ignoring me Doc? That aint very nice.” Floyd muttered.

They shook their head, they weren't.

“Then why don't you-”

The interrupted “I, uhm, I need to stitch your wounds now Floyd.” They spoke quickly. Whatever Floyd wanted them to do, they really shouldn't. Best to finish this as soon as they can.

And so they stuck the needle into him.

Floyd yelped. His body twitched and he squeezed his eyes shut as the needle moved through his flesh. In and out it went, sewing his skin together.

“Worst pain I've ever felt, Doc.” He said, but he was lying through his teeth. How could this be worse than everything else he's been through? Shot, stabbed, and even suffered through broken bones for god's sake…all things they took care of for him.

They pulled at the thread and Floyed trembled, high spots of red rising in his cheeks. With each stab of the needle, his body shivered.

As they dragged the wound shut, a different kind of groan tumbled out.

They stopped at hearing the sound, heat rushing to their face. Without meaning to, they brushed against his thigh, and Floyd went stiff.

They looked down and saw the state of Floyd's pants. He was hard.

The pain. Jeez, he was getting…off on the pain. It was either the pain, the attention, or both. Jade had the weirdest reactions to everything.

The air around them turned hot. They were sweating, but their hands were cold and clammy under thier surgical gloves. Whatever Floyd thought this was, whatever he was feeling, they really shouldn’t encourage it.

“Go on, Doc, finish the job.” Floyd said, his tone taunting. When they looked at him, his expression was heated and almost…desperate. He looked so wrecked.

The sight of Floyd, his sounds, how pathetic he was right now…a wave of arousal went through them, followed by shame and further anxiety. They felt like thier were going to pass out.

I need to leave and soon.

They pulled the final stitch closed, finishing it.

With shaky hands they fumbled for the rubbing alcohol, letting the cap fall to the ground. Staring at the blood they hwsitated for a moment before carefully emptying the entire bottle onto the wound.

They poured it until the bottle was empty and tossed it away to be cleaned later, the plastic bottle bouncing off the floor.

They didn't truly want to hurt Floyd but they needed that heated expression to go away.

Floyd made a choked noise, sounding almost pathetic, and arched off the examination table. Rivulets of alcohol flowed down his skin, mixing with his blood. It dripped down his side, his stomach, and past the vee of his hips, soaking into his blood-stained pants.

He threw his head back, convulsing with pain. His mouth opened to utter a broken cry before falling backward, back hitting the examination table and body going limp.

They let out a gasp. “Oh…oh god.” Eye's locking onto a new wet patch at the front of his pants.

They...really shouldn’t have expected anything different. Floyd had made his…want of them clear. In his strange mind pain was just another outstretched hand to him. Part of them knew nothing they could do would dissuade him. It scared them but also…made them feel something else they really... shouldn't.

Floyd's mismatched eyes found them again, looking up at them half-lidded. With a smile, he licked his lips with a long inhuman tongue.

With a trembling hand, they reached for the door and quickly left the room.

#Inspired from a visual novel i played a long while ago.#floyd/reader #twst #twisted wonderland #floyd x reader #floyd leech #suggestive #twst x reader #mafia au

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moonshine-nightlight · 2 months

Text

NWWD: Divergent Revelations 2

Side story for NWWD, AU starting mid Chapter 23. Fanfic of my own story that asks: what if an honest conversation was had earlier? (spoiler: slow burn is much less slow)

During the fight with assassins, you and Dale are forced to confront the truth of what you each know about Dale's nature. How does the fight change to have this come about? How will the conversation about these revelations go when there's still more than a week before the wedding?

Main Story 'Nothing's Wrong with Dale': [Part One]

Status: Complete

AO3: NWWD: Divergent Revelations

[Part One] Part Two

You murmur as polite a ‘good night’ as you can to your maid before your door finally shuts, blocking out the rest of the Governor’s house, with all its people who can’t stop asking you question after question, hovering over you. Blessed silence fills your bed chamber. You lean back against that now shut door and try to breathe. Grandmother’s going to be alright, you remind yourself, no one seems to suspect Dale. He simply…hasn’t returned yet.

You tried to apologize to Grandfather for not anticipating that Dale would go after Two, but he’d waved off your ‘sorry’s with a worn, but sincere smile. His absolution was appreciated as was the way he seemed to have left all suspicion behind. Still you knew you’d not feel better until you saw Dale once again.

That’s holding true now. The waiting and hours you passed have been valiantly fought through with your highest caffeinated tea, but you were shuffled away to your private chambers after the last strike of the clock, though you can’t remember how many it was.

Nervous energy still buzzes through your veins, a heady mix of worry and adrenaline that makes you want to pace or hide or do something, anything useful. Instead, you walk over to your vanity where an array of candles is, their light reflected back and throughout the room. Aided by the full moon, your room is lit as well as it ever could be so deep into the night.

Halfheartedly, you pick at the bowl of nuts and dried fruit your maid had persuaded you to take with you. You itch to have those books of Dale’s Bilmont had snuck to you, but they’re all back in Northridge. Neither of you had wanted to alert Dale to your perusal nor risk being found with them by keeping them for days or traveling with them, but if you did have the books then maybe you could prepare to do something in case Dale was hurt in a manner that could not be treated by a doctor.

He’d come to you, right? If he needed help? It’s all out in the open now. What you both already knew but still had pretended not to. Although, as long as he could control himself, he should go to the trained physician. But what if someone else found him? What if this had all been a trick by Two to get Dale to go somewhere else where a trap lay in wait? What if Dale had won, but was injured and vulnerable out in the night somewhere? What if Two manages to possess Dale? What if—

You sit down heavily on your vanity chair, shaking your head to try to dissipate such dire thoughts. Dale had been winning the fight, had managed to drive Two off, and had seemed to have no true injuries when he went after them. Morning would come. Dale will have returned while you slept and he will be fine. He has to be.

You look into the mirror, past and behind yourself to the bed. Speaking of sleep, you’ve no idea how you’ll manage it tonight. You suppose you could brew some sleepy tea, but would that truly work when you still feel your anxiety and nerves as significantly as you do? With the effects of your caffeinated tea still going? Do you even want to sleep?

You know you should. It’s what you had told the others you would do. It's what you would have told yourself to do, if you were another person. It's the best course of action so you are well rested and ready to face tomorrow. Nothing good will come of worrying away the hours deeper into the night.

Yet you know yourself. You’ll not be able to manage it. Taking the tea would only leave you in a half-asleep state, constantly drifting off and waking from nightmares you’d not be able to tell from reality.

Not wanting to bother moving the candles from in front of the large mirror at your vanity, you instead go to your desk and bring over your journal with the magnifier. Setting them up, you turn to a fresh page. The most useful thing you can think to do is to write down everything you can remember the assassins said so as to better find who hired them. Given the layers of who can know what, you decide to write down the truth in your personal shorthand, knowing between your handwriting and the few changes you made, it’ll be nigh indecipherable to anyone but you. It should be the best way to keep the actual facts straight for yourself so you can discuss with Dale, or obfuscate with Grandfather and Grandmother. Most of what Two said will only make sense if you know what Dale is and you’ll not be the one to ruin the facade.

You concentrate on getting everything down while managing your flickering light. The sound of your door closing takes a second to register. The next second has you on your feet, your hand dropping your pen in favor of your busk knife. You whirl towards the door, heart hammering in your chest.

A dark figure, more outline than person given how far they are from the miniscule light, is all you can make out. For a split second, you’re convinced Two has come back for you, until another step closer finally allows you to distinguish, “Dale!”

You drop your hand to the table, body sagging in relief, both at the lack of threat and the confirmation he’s alive. “You frightened me half-to-death!”

“My apologies,” Dale replies, voice low and wary, but unmistakably his own.

You beckon him closer, needing a better look even if many of your fears are assuaged with his presence. “Are you alright? What happened?”

He comes more fully into your circle of light and you can see he has no obvious wounds, only a small bandage on his jaw. “I already spoke to Grandfather and the doctor.” You step closer as he speaks, hand drifting up to the bandage. “I’ve no serious injuries, only some bruisings and cuts. I caught up to Two and ensured they’ll do us no more harm.”

“Are you certain?” Your eyes search his form, noting his damaged jacket is nowhere to be seen. No blood stains or broken bones are obvious. Still, there could be damage under the surface, your eyes on his torso and then up to that single bandage. “The stonework was strong and Two was very adept at—”

“Yes, I am sure.” Dale catches your hand before you can touch him.

Heat rises to your cheeks at the reminder of your impropriety, which only mounts as you fully realize that Dale is alone with you, in your bedchambers, at night. No one to see him here. Complete privacy. You in your nightclothes and robe, he in only a shirt and trousers. “Good,” you manage before you attempt to clear your throat. What do demons care of human impropriety? Dale’s played along well enough, but he’s not beholden to such petty sensibilities. “I’m relieved.”

“Yes,” Dale murmurs, continuing to stare at you as if you might be the one who needs a physical. “You do truly appear to be.”

“What…?” You blink up at him confused. Some of your concern fades to frustration. You give him an incredulous look. “Of course, I am. It was a foolish thing to chase after Two into the night. Who knows what they might have done to you.” Did he think himself infallible? Or you too oblivious to notice the toll the fight took on him? “I’ve been worried.”

“Curious,” Dale says, tilting his head to the side. His eyes begin to glow. A third one pops open on his forehead. The shadows cast by your candles gutter. “I’ve never had a human express such concern over me. Not when they knew what I was.” He blinks and all his eyes focus on you. “Yet, you appear sincere.”

“Oh,” your voice is small, but you’ve no notion of how to respond, how to actually have this conversation.

“I was not sure what I would be returning to,” Dale confesses, his voice lower and quieter. Instinctively, you lean closer to hear him better. You hold your breath to see what else he might say, now that it appears you are finally addressing the elephant in the room. “Would you have told Grandfather and the Captain? Would they greet me only to catch me in a binding circle?”

“What?” Your stomach drops at the mere thought. “No, of course not.” Alarm rises with your nerves, that Dale might still worry of this outcome. As if he still thought it a possibility for you to have done so. Does he think so little of your regard for him? Has he not understood where you stand despite your attempts to make that clear? You turn your wrist in his grasp and he lets you, but seems surprised when you clasp it more securely in your own. “Dale, I’d never—I don’t plan on revealing you. I thought that’d be obvious.”

Dale looks down at your hand on his and just as you start to worry it had been the wrong move, he turns his own in your grasp to hold your hand in return. “I suppose that appears to be the case.” His gaze moves from your fingers to tentatively meet your gaze. “It does not illuminate why you would do such a thing.”

“I…” you struggle for how to articulate your thoughts. Somehow all your imagined conversations with Dale had been focused on him and his secrets, motivations, thoughts—not your own. “I am aware that perhaps my actions appear…unusual.” You do your best to rally your thoughts and Dale lets you, no haste or frustration in his stance or expression. That patience helps you say, “However, you’ve never acted in a manner that made me worry for my safety or the safety of others. You have not tried to do harm to those around us, physically or with the power you could wield as heir to Northridge.”

You stare down at your hand and his, unable to keep track of your thoughts when your eyes are locked on his. The flickering candlelight reflects strangely in his blue eyes that he looks more demonic than usual, but also more striking. You want him to think well of you, but you don’t want him to doubt your sincerity. “I’d not known the first Dale for very long. I think I’ve known you longer now. I confess, I had concerns about that Dale, prior to your arrival.”

You chance a glance up at him and see some surprise in his expression. You’re rather pleased to have been able to surprise him since he’s managed to do the same to you at so many turns. Hopefully, like you, he doesn’t find the surprise bad. “Human concerns, but significant ones. The worries I have for you are different, but less.”

“Truly?” Dale’s voice contains even more of the surprise you’d seen in his face earlier, but no doubt or disbelief. “How could a human, who has always been who he is, worry you more than a stranger in his body?”

“Lord Dale was…arrogant, entitled, and selfish,” you admit, remembering back to your first talk with him. You remember your first meeting with Grandfather and with the other prospects that came up. “And he was the best marriage offer I received.” You frown, trying to articulate why you’d taken a chance with that Dale, aware now that you’re relieved more than anything that he’d been replaced in the end. “I believed he would consider me to be… an extension of himself in a manner that would shield me from some of his faults, so long as I did not interfere with his goals. However, that is certainly not a stable place to begin a marriage, although I had considered it worth the risk at the time.”

“And myself?” Dale asks softly.

You smile to yourself because how often had you asked yourself the same thing: about him and about why he might tolerate you. “You were an unknown,” you say slowly, “in so many ways—I admit you still are. However, you’ve not shown that callous self-interest. You appear… interested in m—the thoughts of others, dutiful to Northridge in a manner I recognize in myself.” You’d been preparing to take up the mantle of Northridge’s care yourself. You’d liked the idea of such a challenge, to an extent. You were eager to prove yourself. To be the one in control of your life. But it would have been lonely and you would have had to juggle Dale’s own plans for the fief. You hadn’t thought there was a better option other than hoping perhaps the original Dale might come around. That isn’t your worry with this Dale.

You take a deep breath and look back up at him. “You did not have to stay and playact the role Dale handed you with his identity. You could have left with his body to strike out on your own.” You hate how much the thought fills you with true fear, not just trepidation or frustration as might have before you got to know this Dale. If he has been genuine with you, you would fear for him out in the world on his own. “I don’t know if you still might do so, but that is my worry, not that you’ll mismanage what you have. I simply feel there is more common ground between us than between myself and the original Dale.” You swallow, suddenly all too aware you’ve been speaking for what feels like ages on end without Dale saying a word. You reach with your free hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear. “That could all be wishful thinking on my side. We’ve not had many chances for honest conversation, excepting now, I suppose.”

Dale finally blinks and stares down at you in a sort of confusion that you hope is fond and not frustrated. “I did not know what to expect when I arrived on the surface,” he confesses slowly, “though I was relieved not to have to contest for autonomy. My recovery from the ordeal was when I knew I would be most vulnerable and thought I might be discovered, necessitating my departure.” His fingers tighten briefly around your own before a small smile spreads across his face. “Thank you again, for your aid.

“I was relieved to be able to stay. I’ve no plans to leave unless forced.” Dale looks past you briefly, to the candles and the mirror behind you. “I have spent my life searching for a stable territory—a home.” His eyes fix on yours once more. “I’ve not had much in the way of surviving family and so find myself inclined to appreciate Grandmother and Grandfather, particularly with Dale’s memories.” His eyes unfocus as if viewing those memories now.

You allow him some time and shortly Dale pulls himself out of those thoughts with a rueful shake of his head. “The memories are both outside of myself and of myself in a rather confusing manner. I’ve not the language or nuance to explain well, truth be told. All of Northridge feels as if it was waiting for me and I’d be a fool not to seize the opportunity. Even you,” he strokes his thumb across the back of your hand, sending a thrill through you, “a lovely mate, was here, like a delightful dream. I’ve not earned any of this,” Dale continues, looking a bit sheepish, a bit chagrined, and a bit like he’s expecting your judgment. “And yet, I’ve had enough ill fortune in my life not let a stroke of good pass me by.”

Your relief at hearing him say he plans to stay is only matched by your understanding. “Even with his flaws, Dale had appeared to be good luck to me at the time. Now, you seem to suit me far better as a partner. Strange as it is to say, I was sometimes more convinced there must be a trick about when I felt we understood each other. It seemed too fortunate.” You take another deep breath as you try to think of what words might solidify Dale’s decision to stay with you, to be with you. The memory of the way he’d said your name only hours ago, the layers of meaning he’d somehow communicated, gives you the strength to say, “For what it's worth, if you’ve been sincere and wish to stay, to be Dale of Northridge, then I’m happy you are here above any other.”

“I have,” Dale is quick to say, catching your other hand in his. He brings your hands in his together and up, dusting your knuckles with a kiss, “and I do. I feel the same.” Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart hammers in your chest due to the warmth and release of tension you feel because you believe him. That Dale might want this too, with you, is hardly more than you can conceive. You haven’t even had to convince and persuade and demonstrate the value of such an arrangement over months as you’d begun to plan for first Dale. Weeks of uncertainty melt away in the face of his straightforward words. You must be smiling like a fool, but you don’t care.

Dale tilts his head to the side, bemused. “Is that common, among human pairs, to understand each other so quickly? Is that why these strange methods are employed? I admit many aspects of human society elude me, including mating rituals.”

“Not all do, but that is the hope of most,” you reply, before leaning forward, unable to help your curiosity. “Wh—” You wince when the movement jars your back and Dale frowns. You absentmindedly pull your clothes away from your bruised back. “Apologies, I am still somewhat sore after this evening's events.”

Dale glances around before leading you over to your bed. “Let us sit.”

“You were the one who fought,” you protest weakly, but the image of Dale on your bed is very enticing. Since you still have your curtains open by the bed, the moonlight has the opportunity to lend strength to the blue-ness of his eyes. You still feel some of the echo of adrenaline brimming in your veins, but it has nowhere to go with the night so late and Dale finally within reach.

“And I am tired as well,” he agrees, giving a little tug to your hand before sitting down himself as if to be a good example.

You’re certain that’s true and you’ve no real objection. If anything the mild impropriety makes your stomach flutter excitedly. You carefully sit down beside him, arranging your robe as you do so with only one hand, not wanting to let go of Dale quite yet. He’s only just come back to you.

He turns, bringing his knee up onto the bed in order to face you better as you tuck yourself against the footboard for stability. Dale looks boyish in such a pose. With some of the excitement and fear out of the way, your conversation begins to remind you more of sneaking between dormitory rooms at school.

You try to bring your mind back to the conversation you were having instead of childish conversations and not so childish games. “How does courting work for your… society?”

Dale smiles, a little crooked, like he too finds your description of anything demonic as a ‘society’ amusing. “Truthfully, there are many varieties in how different demons approach such matters. Perhaps the original strange thing to me was how many humans approach it the same.”

“There is variety,” you consider, actually giving it some thought. So much of your life had built to where you were now, you’d not contemplated the process itself since you were a child. Primarily, fears about your ability to participate at all were what had dominated your thoughts then. “That variety tends to be geographic, however a culture evolved. This continent was once under the rule of a single large empire, before it fractured and so shares certain traits across country borders. The continent to the direct south is similar within itself. To the east across the Narrow Sea, there is still one empire. Only the more distant continents were never united—to my knowledge—and so I believe have a greater variety to their customs.”

“I see,” Dale nods. “The Depths is a very…scattered and varied place, physically and among demons themselves. No one group of any kind has ever controlled a large portion, not in the history I’m aware of. Still, there are trends among similar demons or those who live close to one another, customs that bleed into one another. The demons I am most familiar with either live in tight-knit clans and generally don’t mate outside of it or are solitary. Both consider time to become familiar with each other a critical component.”

You nod. “Many people who end up marrying have known each other all their lives, due to circumstances, or because they were neighbors, or because their parents decided years ago to link their families and lands.” Pivoting since you’re not sure demons have nobility, you continue, “According to those I know who aren’t nobility, that’s also far more common among the common people. Nobility enjoys overthinking, or at least that’s what my father says. A lot of marriage decision making is based on utility, alliances, and finances—not to mention tradition and honor. Tolerance of one's spouse is the expectation with companionship over time. Partnership or true affection as an ideal to hope for. Although, it is custom to play at appearing happily situated, regardless of one's internal feelings on the matter.”

“Surely you had more options than Dale,” the demon with his name protests, as if he’d been meaning to make the argument since you first mentioned such a thing and could no longer contain himself. “Sometimes his thoughts or memories—impressions of people or situations—occur to me. I admit I dislike many of them. I disagree with many of them.”

You’d known this was part of how demonic possession worked but it was still strange to hear of. “I’m certain his of me were not flattering nor were there many of them—one of the few commonalities we had was likely our rather poor opinion of each other,” you confess. “I doubt he suspected my true feelings. He agreed to marry me because he needed to in order to inherit, because I seemed amenable to his influence. Not to mention because I came with a larger than is typical dowry for a fifth child. I’m sure he thought me generally acceptable, if a bit disappointing—he told me as much. However, that was his fault for letting rumors reach the ears of potential spouses or at least their parents.”

The way Dale tightens his lips, but doesn’t disagree confirms your suspicions. He gives a small huff before saying, “Yes, I can recall. He was quite frustrated with the reputation he’d found when he made his way back home. At the very least he wished he’d been able to marry before they spread. I think he’d underestimated how many would not want to be associated with demonic research. Not to mention the more dramatic tales of carousing he and his compatriots got up to on their tour.” He rolls his eyes as he continues to list reasons why Dale’s marriage prospects had diminished. “How many of them would pair off with each other as they did, and so on. He believed he could have turned his reputation around in order to have a spouse he saw as more…” Dale winces, clearly trying to find the least offensive word, before giving up, “worthy, but was aware such an endeavor would take time he did not want to spend.”

“Yes,” you acknowledge because isn’t that what you suspected all along? In some ways it's hard to care much about what the original Dale thought, not when he was dead, but you find you hate the idea of echoes of those thoughts sounding through this Dale’s head. You care about his opinion. You want him to think well of you. You push those fears aside to focus on the conversation you are having. “In that way, we were compatible. We did confirm what we expected from this marriage along with what was required for our engagement to be initiated. It's simply that those items of import were easily discovered on paper and with minimal interaction in person.”

“You were engaged before you met,” Dale says, shaking his head in either disbelief or disapproval. “Truly mystifying.”

“What sort of traits are valued in your courtships?” you ask, wanting to meet him where you could. Everything so far has been how humans do such things. You want him to feel comfortable with you and your relationship. You want a chance to show him Dale’s lingering thoughts shouldn’t matter to him. You can’t find more time to spend together with the wedding so close. You can’t change how you only met shortly ago, but hopefully there are other elements you could honor. “I would be happy to participate in any rituals I could, as we have fulfilled the majority of the human ones already.”

Dale blinks at you with such surprise you worry for a second that you might have just made a foolish offer. Since you were in fact referring to demonic rituals that was likely a given. No, you remind yourself, you trust Dale. Dale closes his mouth within a second or two, and admits, almost ruefully, “In truth, many such questions and information have already been answered. What would take demons time and trust to reveal, humanity seems more free with, particularly over these last few weeks of intensity and socializing. My parents courted for years but saw each other far less than we have over the course of that time.”

“What sorts of things?” you can’t help but press, eager for anything to work with.

“General compatibility,” Dale begins to list with a shrug, “socialization, familial connections, and expectations. The majority of courtship negotiations for my parents was spent on territory and fitness to defend said territory, with the others learned as that progressed.”

“If the ability to defend territory is a sought after quality,” you say, wanting to fidget out of self-consciousness and holding still out of sheer self-determination, “I must be sorely lacking as a candidate.”

Dale immediately shakes his head. “No, it is a balance. I trained to fight and defend. It is a skill I can bring, not one that I expected any partner to possess. I would not have refused such a mate, but I hadn’t been seeking one out either. The terms of survival are different on the Surface.”

He leans back, bracing himself on one hand as he frowns in concentration. You resist the urge to lean after him, to maintain any closeness you’ve gained. He looks so distant in the moonlight, foreign with his demonic eyes on full display—there are two more than before—and with shadows moving as if in a gentle breeze around him. “My parent had staked out a large territory in alliance with another demon, who died soon before they met my mother. They were initially very hostile to the others settling nearby, including her. She managed to negotiate with them for her smaller spot and slowly they came to see they would enjoy being together. Since my parent had a lot of territory, my mother had to prove her worth as a defender. Even my parent had to prove their territory borders were sustainable with all the new interlopers.”

You try to even picture such an existence. It seems so solitary. You had often felt lonely as a child, and even after, but there were always people around, you simply didn’t have any connections with them. You weren’t actually alone. Perhaps you are missing something. “And it was just them?”

“Yes,” Dale replies, eyes softening as if he could hear your true question. “Shades are generally solitary and while my mother came from a clan, she preferred solitude as well. That was one reason for her departure.”

“And you’re a shade?” He certainly seems to be one, given his facility with shadows. Had he spent so much of his life in similar solitude? “The past few weeks of gatherings must have been overwhelming for you.” He’d not seemed to be. However, perhaps he was a better actor than you’ve given him credit for. He was coming from such a different place of experience.

Dale shook his head. “I’m only part-shade and even so, I’ve always enjoyed being around others. I’ve been to the Surface before and know how close you all tend to live.” It was so odd to hear him acknowledge all this out loud, to hear him say “you all” and know he meant “humans”. That he wasn’t included with them. “Even in the Depths I traveled, as many young demons do before they settle on their own territory. I have worked with others and even temporarily joined a handful of clans. Nothing ever fit or stuck. My first time on the Surface, as chaotic and overwhelming and confusing as it was, felt right. After one final attempt in the Depths to find a place to suit me failed, I knew what I wanted was up here.”

You want to ask for every detail, for every nuance and failed alliance he alludes to. At the same time, you don’t want to scare him off, by asking for more than he feels comfortable revealing. If you’ve already rushed the timing, you don’t want to push even more, not at the risk of driving him away. You want to hold this new honesty with both hands and protect it. You want to never let it go. In the end, you settle on a sincere, but generic, “I confess, the tales of the Depths make it sound fearsome,” in the hopes that he’ll tell more if he wished, but would not feel pressured if he did not.

“It is.” Dale has closed all of his eyes, clearly remembering. “It is lonely and dangerous.” He blinks open his eyes and they’re glowing once more, enhanced by the strong moonlight that falls on his face. “There are dangers here too, but so many more opportunities and ways of living. Not merely survival.”

You shake your head. “I’ve no notion of such a life. I’m pleased you are here and that we can offer you that.” Today has more than proven that Dale can defend himself and that you are certainly winning no accolades in such an arena, and yet you feel protective of him. You want to shield him from the harsh life he clearly led before this, fighting for so much of his life. You want to make a home where he can rest and enjoy life.

“Thank you,” Dale smiles, as if your simple words mean something to him. “I admit I’d been prejudiced against informing you of my true nature due to past experience.”

He said he had been on the Surface before. You recall his trepidation, his fear as you now recognize it, both in the aftermath of the destroyed study and even when he first was in your rooms. What experience might that have been to caution him so?

“It is freeing to be able to speak of this with you,” Dale continues with a smile you reflexively return. “To feel there is no curtain of confusion between us. My own hope had been for such a mate, a confidant.” You squeeze the hand still clasped with his because that is all you wanted as well. He squeezes back. “I’m not sure how we got here while taking such a stilted and quite frankly, human route. It is so far from what I would have expected and gone by so quickly.”

“The time has flown,” you agree, “and yet it also seems a lifetime ago I stood in your rooms after the incident and tried to meet you anew.”

Dale looks startled. “Did you know even then?” He runs his free hand through his hair, baffled. “But we’d no chance to truly even meet, for me to demonstrate any sort of trustworthiness. You knew then?”

“I suspected then,” you correct. “You were strange, but kind. It seemed very unlike the Dale I had only just started to get to know. He’d been acting oddly the night he must have summoned you. He did set the summoning in motion himself, yes?” Dale nods, still wide-eyed with interest and surprise. The effect is compounded by the five eyes he has with which to look back at you. “I knew of his studies with the demonic, I knew of his anticipation for the night, and then the sudden illness.” You shrug. “Well, I went to see him—you—on purpose. But all I could truly discern is that something demonic had happened. I didn’t know if he was still part of you and I’d frightfully little knowledge of demonology to leverage. It wasn’t until a few days later that my understanding solidified.”

Dale just shakes his head. “You knew all this time…”

“Were you not aware?” you can’t help but ask, nearly as surprised by the notion as Dale seems to be that you did know.

“I…No,” he frowns. “At times I thought you might. Later that first evening, I worried my reaction to the willowbark had been too vehement or that I’d said something strange while my memories and Dale’s were sorting themselves out. During the tournament, when you sought me out regarding Eastmount—that was when I came closest to thinking you knew what I was.”

“But you changed your mind,” you continue for him. You can see it in his face. “Why?”

“You assisted me,” he says plainly, lifting his eyebrows as if it were obvious. “You didn’t confront me or accuse me or try to leverage any sort of secret knowledge of what I was for your own gain. You didn’t turn me in or ask for my aid to advantage you or threaten me.”

“You thought so ill of me?” You can’t help the hurt that blossoms in your voice. “That I might do such a thing?” Hadn’t he known enough of you by then? You thought he’d understood, that he had seen who you were quicker than anyone else you’d known. Your hand starts to pull out of his without you meaning to. Unable to resist drawing back from him.

“That is what humans do with demons,” he says, almost pleading, pressing your hand to the bed to halt your movement, but not pulling it back towards himself. “Even if you were not one who sought selfish gain, then as a righteous human, you should have raised the alarm, formed a trap, done something to expunge the demon from your midst.” His vehemence is surprising, you feel caught out because he wasn’t wrong. Those are the two expected reactions. “I had thought I’d misjudged you since you had seemed to know, but not do any of those things. I was waiting for the demand of what you wished for in exchange for your silence. It never came.” Dale shakes his head again. “I concluded you didn’t know. It was the only explanation that fit. That, at most, you suspected Dale had enhanced himself with demonics and were willing to aid him in his one-upmanship with Eastmount.”

“I see.” On one hand you do truly understand his caution. He is a feared stranger in a foreign land, which goes doubly for Northridge given Grandmother’s attitude. You know plenty who would have done as he suggested, but… You also know some who would not have. Surely he must have Dale’s own memories of humans mixed up in demonology that wouldn’t have reacted so poorly. It's such a specific fear. “Has…has that happened before? When someone found out you were possessing a different human in the past?”

“I…” He freezes, all of his extra eyes closing up, although the two that remain are still glowing, black all but gone from them. “Yes. It has.”

A bolt of anger on Dale’s behalf straightens your spine, even though you know how humans react to demons. It's not even unwarranted most of the time. But this is Dale, your fiancé—your Dale. Did they simply not know him? From all the stories you’ve heard, most demons make their true intent, if it is destruction, known quite quickly. It’s why you’ve become more comfortable with Dale as time has passed. “I don’t know what circumstances there were, but you’ve not behaved in a way that would cause me to betr—to react in such a manner.

“I would not have blamed you. Demons can be quick to turn on each other as well.” His voice was strangely soft and earnest as he spoke, as he tried to absolve you of these potential feelings and actions against him. “It’s not humans alone who have decided that it would be better to no longer act in concert with me before.”

It breaks your heart, to hear him say it so plainly, so gently. You can see now you are working against a lifetime of betrayal, or so it seems to you. You search for something, anything, to communicate your sincerity. A reason to push any lingering fear of such possibility in the future as far from his mind as you can.

“You saved my life tonight, Grandmother’s life.” It’s the most tangible, most straightforward reason you could see that he might believe for your trust in him. You wait, but he doesn’t disagree. You have his rapt attention. “We are working towards the same goal, are we not? You’ve more than proven your dedication to Northridge tonight, to my satisfaction.” You don’t see it so plainly, so unemotionally, but you want to impress upon him that you are aligned together. You wait for his slow nod of acknowledgment.

“Nothing you have done has persuaded me otherwise,” you work hard to make your voice as steady and sure as you can. “It never crossed my mind to try to entrap or exorcize you tonight.” You hope by focusing on now, he won’t try to argue this specific point. You don’t have such concrete reasons for your feelings before and so you’re not sure he’d believe you’d never really had the inclination once you actually met him. Otherwise, he’s right: some things need that time to grow and solidify. You want to make damn sure you’re starting on the right foot. You will gain the rest of his trust going forward.

Dale leans closer, an eye opening up. He tightens his grip on your hand as he does so. You wait on pins on needles for his response. “I believe you. Thank you.”

You want to shift the topic back to lighter matters, but you’re unsure of how to do so. “Demons truly have turned on you as humans have?” is what comes out instead. You wince.

Dale doesn’t seem to take offense. “Yes, as I was not born into a group that survived, I sought to join others.” You want to ask so much more about that, but you can tell by the way Dale is moving past this part of his past, that he doesn’t want to share that now. It’s late. It's been an incredibly long day, you understand. You’ll be able to ask him for details on all of this because you’re getting married. You’ll have your whole lives to learn everything about him. He’s staying, you reiterate to yourself. You can no longer picture your future without him.

“The majority of demonic clans are very insular and do not take kindly to outsiders,” he says with a frown. “They see nothing wrong with treating said outsiders with little…regard or integrity. This is why the courting ritual I described is spread out. To allow time to pass without betrayal or shifts in alliances to occur. To demonstrate the connection can weather time and outside forces.”

“And to feel confident in telling anything more personal to their prospective spouse,” you add, nodding. Sure there is gossip and alliances and even violence within the nobility on the Surface—tonight’s more than proved that—but not on the scale Dale’s describing. You’re abruptly very grateful for the world you live in. You’d likely not survived his.

“Precisely,” Dale confirms. “Information that might have been construed as weaknesses to be exploited, but not can be trusted to not be taken advantage of.”

This does fit with the rumors and heresy you’ve heard about demonic ways of life. It’s a wonder any of them manage to mate at all. Still, you’d hoped for something else, something you could do besides ‘not betray him’. For Dale. To show that you accept him. To demonstrate your sincerity to the marriage. To signify your clarity who he is. You know that marriage is with a demon and you want him, not anyoneelse. You want him to know that before the night’s through. “So there aren’t any other differences in courting that you are surprised about? Or that we have not participated in?”

Dale frowns as he thinks. You try to determine if it's the moonlight and wind painting strange shadows on his form or just him without pretense. He’s mesmerizing either way. “Couple’s often take a journey together or begin to merge their territories prior to being bound as formal mates. You’ve already come to live in our territory and we’ll be taking our tour after the wedding. I don’t believe much can be done to accelerate that at this point.”

“No,” you have to agree, although you understand now why Dale had been so eager for the tour and are doubly glad to be doing it. “Not in our circumstance.”

“We already discussed and covered so many compatibility topics that there is not much left that I’d have wished to know about a potential mate. Well, I suppose it is unusual to have done little beyond dance,” Dale admitted, all but two of his eyes looking sidelong out the window now. “Physical compatibility in such matters is also considered relatively strongly. I suppose that has more weight for demons given our variety.” He sounds on the fence about how true he feels that statement is. As if he is giving you an excuse to brush past this topic and move on.

“Oh?” You hope that sounded calm. You hope your expression isn’t giving you away if your voice did not. “I, I do not mind, if you wanted, or rather,” you can’t get the words out in a coherent manner, too intrigued despite yourself, and your inability to talk sensibly is only making you more flustered. Memories of your fumble at a festival as well as memories dancing with Dale distract you. “If there was something else you wished to discover regarding our compatibility, I would not be opposed.”

Dale blinks at you in surprise, but without judgment. That lack of judgment is always one of the primary differences between who is Dale is now and who Dale was. It is the quality you appreciate the most. “Oh, you would not?” He sounds mildly intrigued and unflustered as he runs a few fingers through his hair. It’s unkempt and dark enough to melt into the shadows around you both, but you think it looks longer than it did even a few minutes ago. As if the strands spent more time tangled around his fingers this time around. “I constantly find myself torn between what Dale has experienced informally, what I know human society seems to expect, and what I would consider a reasonable level of intimacy for those who plan to join together permanently in merely a week.”

“Of course.” You can hardly keep the typical social rules straight, let alone your own memories and another persons and another society’s set of expectations. It’d drive you a little mad, you think. “I imagine such conflicting knowledge must be confusing.”

“It is,” Dales says emphatically, looking relieved to finally be able to speak openly. Then he sighs, looking mildly embarrassed for possibly the first time you’ve seen. “And I know I do not always play my part correctly.”

You feel a little bad for having had the same thought because, well, he isn’t wrong, is he? Nothing much you can say to that. Still, you want to reassure him. “When we are in private, you don’t need to worry about playacting correctly. You’ll wear yourself to the bone if you tried to keep up a facade constantly.”

“I appreciate your saying so,” he says with a tentative smile you’ve not seen before. It’s sweet. It would have looked out of place on the original Dale’s face and yet it suits this one so well. “It can be tiring. Not always and there are times when even in public, with you, I still feel as I do now.”

You smile, pleased with yourself at having made him feel even somewhat comfortable in a land so alien to him. “It’s not as if I’ve not felt out of place before, although not to the same extent, but I want us to help each other. That’s why I wish for you to feel comfortable here and now, with me and our courtship. We are to be married and I want that to mean a partnership, mates, a true couple. No matter our differences and the strange circumstances we’ve found ourselves in.”

“As do I,” Dale murmurs, leaning closer. At first you think he’s simply relaxing his posture, until his hand reaches out to put a finger under your chin. His eyes are dark as they stare at your lips and you recall what turn the conversation had started to take before being sidelined. “So, you would not mind if I…?”

Evidently Dale wishes to push the conversation back on track. His intent is obvious and he gives you plenty of time to pull away, but you still reply, only a little breathily, “I would not” before his lips cover your own. It’s a far more tentative and gentle kiss than the one human Dale had taken from you. Less awkward than your first kiss had been. You melt into his hold as he cups your cheek more firmly, angling the kiss just so. His lips are cool, but soft.

Dale parts from you only to press another kiss to your lips the next second. Kiss after kiss, the rest of the world melts away until there is only the two of you in the faint light, safe in this room. Your hands end up grasping the front of his shirt to keep him close, not that he seems intent on going anywhere. His hand tangles itself in your hair, cupping the base of your head while his other splays along your side to better pull you closer.

He deepens the next kiss and you can taste him on your tongue, like coffee and cinnamon. You relax into his hold even as he seems to get hungrier, as he steals the breath from your lungs and every stray thought from your mind. Dale pulls an appreciative noise from the back of your throat. Your hands, still fisted in his shirt, slowly release their grip to press against his chest. He’s wonderfully solid beneath them, safe and whole and home.

Dale belongs with you and you won’t let anything keep him from you.

You bury a hand in his hair, the cool, silky strands almost wrap around your fingers in return. Eventually, you have to use your hold to pull him back enough to breathe, but you don’t give him more than the space to allow you to do so. Dale pants against your lips. “Breathing is so…” Dale starts to mutter, almost absentmindedly, before he leans back in to dot kisses along your jaw.

You hum in agreement, pleased with his attention. Desire zips through your veins. Shadows move like flames in the moonlight, shifting across Dale’s body and around him. You swear you can almost feel them, like velvet against your skin. This night feels like a wonderful dream.

Dale’s large hands land on your hips, strong and sure. He makes his way back to your mouth, determined that neither of you can truly catch your breath, and starts pushing you further onto the bed, away from the end. Your feet leave the ground while he moves after you. Your own hands are occupied, holding his strong jaw, buried in his luscious, dark hair. At some point, while stealing your thoughts with his nimble tongue, he lifts you entirely from the sheets to maneuver you fully into the middle of bed. Even when he sets you back down, you're only kept even remotely upright by your hold on him.

“Sana…” Dale pants against your lips when he pulls back just enough for your lungs to remember their job. His voice is raspy and deep as he speaks through his own breaths. You meet as many of his eyes as you can, half-lidded but rapt with attention. “I have been wanting, no,” Dale corrects himself, “needing to familiarize myself with your scent.” He runs his nose down the column of your throat before burying his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his words against your skin nearly as much as you hear them. “As your touch, your appearance, your voice are already solidified in my mind. All brief glimpses of scent I managed to steal pitiable and meager until now.”

Your mind struggles to think of a coherent response. Is this part of demon courting? Having Dale wrapped around you, against you so intimately? The desire to know you by every sense. “Oh?” If so, you want more. Even if it’s merely something Dale wants, he’s welcome to it, to you.

“Your taste…” he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. “Half-remembered, filtered through that imbecile’s mind.” His derision for Dale’s opinion helps chase away your insecurities that he might be swayed by them. He scrapes his teeth against your skin and your mind fogs over. “I knew it to be a poor imitation of reality, but if I had known how poor, I’m not sure I would have been able to resist for so long. Want. More,” he says around licks and kisses to your sternum where he’s pushing against the barrier of your chemise.

“You, if you,” you stutter around the words, trying to string your thoughts together. You’d had daydreams about a fiancé you trusted enough and who felt passionately enough that you’d preempt your wedding night, like in so many hushed romantic stories. “Yes, you can, if you wa-ant.” When Dale merely continues to nose at your hem, you finally manage to say as plainly as you can, “Simply remove it.”

“Gladly,” Dale replies, eager hands already set on the task of riding you of your remaining clothing. It’s so freeing to be able to say exactly what you mean, what you want, and have Dale hear you. To have him immediately act on what you say. Your robe had fallen off at some point after his first kiss so there is only your chemise. He manages to divest you of it in record time, making sure the fabric doesn’t catch on your bandages.

He stills to take in the sight of you, but only for a few seconds. As soon as the slightest inclination towards embarrassed self-consciousness starts to make themselves heard, Dale says, “Thank you,” so emphatically, you feel heat rise to your face and gather between your legs.

“I—” Whatever you were going to say is lost as Dale immediately starts trailing kisses down from your neck to your chest. His other hand lands on your upper thigh and starts to massage and stroke at the skin there. You moan, eyelids slamming closed to better enjoy the sensations he’s provoking throughout your body. It's so much after so long of only dances and holding hands, but you feel as greedy as Dale is acting. With the taunt of courtship over, you want to be as close to him as you possibly can.

He envelops a nipple in his mouth and lightning races down your spine to strike your core. You can feel yourself getting wetter as he continues. You ache for some friction between your legs but you don’t want to risk Dale stopping. As he switches sides, his hand coming up to tweak and rub your damp skin, you moan shamelessly. You want to drown in the sensation of Dale moving so eagerly against you. He’s ravenous.

Dale’s attentions push you back and you place a hand on the bed to try to steady yourself. It's not quite enough, not given your injured arm. You do your best to control your descent down on your side. Dale gropes at your hip as if to try to help keep you up before he realizes what you're doing and helps guide you down instead.

His shirt disappears as you reposition yourselves. You move quickly to explore the skin now bared to you, feeling strange stripes of velvet mixed with soft human skin. The difference in textures reminds you of who you are with even though you can’t see his inhuman nature with your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to weather the heat he’s stoking within your body.

Dale pushes you further back and you go with the motion until you feel the sheets against your bruised back. Flinching, your hands scramble against Dale’s skin as you arch away from the bed. “S-Sorry,” you pant, “Bruised. My back.”

Dale’s already tipped you back onto your side and you see a tail with two eyes arc over your shoulder. He growls at whatever he can see in the dark. Shadow tendrils brace you between your shoulder blades and on your lower back so that you can relieve some pressure from your side and relax more in this position. His teeth seem sharper as he says, “I should have torn them to pieces for touching you. For hurting you.”

“You did,” you reply, not wanting to derail the mood even if the reminder of Dale’s defense of you certainly isn’t drawing you out of it. You don’t want Dale consumed by anger. You selfishly want his focus to be on you. “It’s treated as best it can be.” When that doesn’t seem to be enough, you cup his cheek, “Make me forget about it.”

Dale’s eyes ignite at the challenge and you feel a corresponding pulse between your legs. “Yesss, sana,” he hisses in agreement, pressing a kiss to that hand. He resumes his mission to memorize you with all his senses with renewed zeal. It’s easy to let him do so. With him pressed to your front and his shadow tails wrapped around to brace your back, you feel wonderfully enveloped by him. Safe from the world. Safe with him.

“You seem like something I shouldn’t be allowed to have,” Dale murmurs, voice strange, distant and echoing. He presses more kisses further down your body. Even with nearly all his focus on the physical, he can’t help but think aloud with whatever part of him isn’t consumed with you. “Shouldn’t be allowed to keep.”

The shadow tails supporting your back spread and his hands fasten securely to your hips. “Smoke in the wind,” a kiss to your stomach, “water in the hand,” a kiss above the thatch of hair you have, “a dream before waking.” He looks up the length of you, his eyes blue and dark and as hypnotizing as ever. “Fighting for this—you and Northridge—for this life tonight has made it feel so much more a reality rather than a far-off wish.” He presses another absentminded kiss to you. His thumbs stroke your skin and your hips roll in his hold involuntarily. “Something I would never truly be able to grasp.”

“You can,” you tell him, feeling nearly as desperate as he’s been acting, voice breaking on the words. Desire clogging up your throat. “If you d-desire… Dale,” you wail his name when he finally puts his mouth on you.

You lace the fingers of one hand into his hair, not able to judge what was too tight while your hips jitter in his hold. Overwhelmed by the sensation of that long adroit tongue dipping in for a better taste. Your head tips back as you try to push into him. He groans encouragingly as his hands move to your thighs and pry them apart to give him more space to work. The improved angle gives him more access, more contact, more ways to make you mewl with pleasure.

True to his words when he first began, Dale is ravenous for your taste, licking and sucking with an intensity that makes you little able to do more than take it. Unleashed, he must have truly been holding himself back before. The fight, that kiss, has broken some self-restraint he’d clearly been tightly holding onto.

Dale devours you. He devours you until you’re a sweating, moaning, mess held firmly in his grasp. Until a final wave of pleasure pulls you under.

You come back to yourself slowly to find Dale still between your thighs, carefully licking up every last drop of desire he’s managed to wring from you. You hope he’s satisfied with you. You hope he’s never satisfied. You hope he’s willing to make a meal of you again and again. “Dale,” you breathe out. Glittering, bright eyes look up at you, half-lidded and gratified, but still hungry.

Heat begins to rekindle in your veins as he lowers his gaze back down. As he begins to plant kisses and leave little sucking marks on your skin. As he works his way back up your body. You stroke through his hair encouragingly, languid and content to let him do as he pleases. He’s certainly proved himself worthy of the leeway. He pulls you upright as he goes and your free hand lands on his strong shoulder.

You don’t hesitate to pull him into a kiss once you're close enough. His mouth is wet with you still and you find yourself delighted with the evidence of his indulgence, his base appetite. When he pulls you into his lap, you take advantage of the additional height to lead the kiss. Dale gives way under you easily, letting you press your advantage and finally do some taking yourself.

You don’t break the kiss until Dale situates you perfectly in his lap to let his cock rock against your cunt. Your moan and instant attempt at grinding down against him leave you gasping. His large hands, spanning your hips and with fingers that dig into your ass, encourage your movements as he groans.

“You…” you try to give voice to the thought that’s been building in your mind without you realizing it, “the way you said my name…” You can still hear it echoing in your memory, but you need to hear it aloud. It’s what had helped stabilize your trust in him and you ache to hear it now. “After the fight…”

Dale shudders, something rolling through him, before he opens his mouth to breathe your name in that same resounding tone, the one that seemed to carry with it so much more than a single word ever could. Your eyelids flutter, as you feel that same comfort as before, but it has evolved. Now cinnamon spice and crimson tart berry streaked through that yellow warm honey. You feel it along your nerves, buzzing through your veins like warm, mulled wine. “Dale,” you gasp back, hoping you can convey something similar in return.

Air flows from him like a breeze and his shadows gutter around him while he closes his eyes to the sensation. When he presses you back down against him there's a rumble you first mistake for a growl only to realize it’s a purr. “May I…?” His cock ruts against your entrance as if there was any doubt as to what he was asking for.

You're lost in this moment, in this feeling, and yet in that second, he takes to ask the real world breaks through. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, craving his own scent nearly as much as his craving for your own had sparked this fire into motion. “Yes, please, Dale—I need you.”

“Yes, sana, I do as well. I need you so very much,” Dale pants as he guides the head of his cock to where it needs to be and begins to push inside.

Gods, he feels big. You remind yourself to relax, let yourself be pliable, and allow him in. One of his hands leaves your hip to stroke soothingly through your hair while he thoughtlessly babbles, “Yeeesss, so hot, so tight. Lights above, you feel better than… So good. Thank you, pretty, pretty mate for…for this, for this allowance, for this gift, f-fuck.” His words make you shudder and you must be dripping from them given how much more easily he makes his way inside.

Once he’s finally hilted in you, you both need the extra few seconds to take a breath. Him overwhelmed by you surrounding him judging by his scattered words and you for the stretch. The ache of being first too empty and then nearly too full. Soon you deliberately clench around him and he groans. You press a kiss to his neck to let him know he’s alright to move and then set to making it a mark on his skin.

Dale murmurs your name again, a faint echo of how he’d said it earlier. Shuddering, your teeth graze the mark you’re worrying on his skin. Instinctively, he thrusts in even though he’s only pulled halfway out which pulls a groan from deep in your throat.

The sound seems to set Dale off because soon he’s thrusting at a rhythmic pace, half with his own hips, half lifting you up in counterpoint to his movements. Your heat throbs at the demonstration of his strength. You pull your head back to take him in in the moonlight. Your demonic fiancé, demonic mate.

As you can feel another peak building, the pulsing between your legs getting stronger, Dale’s thrusts become more erratic. As soon as you notice, his thumb lands on your clit, obviously determined to push you over the edge with him.

Dale buries his face in the crook of your neck. His voice resonates against you as he says, “I… I could…I should…” He starts to lift you off of him. “We’re not—”

His words are cut off with a loud moan when you push back against him, hands on his shoulders, muscles throbbing around him. To keep him inside you where he belongs.

“No, no,” you say, mind overwhelmed with pleasure, but also coherent to understand he’s trying to cater to you even if it's not what you want, what you crave with a strength that would surprise you if you gave it a moment’s consideration. “Please. I trust you.” You know Dale wouldn’t leave you now. As far as you're concerned, you’re already married. He’ll never leave you again. “Please, stay inside.”

He growls your name in response and pulls you back fully onto his cock without needing further encouragement. His hands stroke up and down your sides, shadow tendrils controlling the pace of his thrusts. The additional sensation of his hands on your skin, on your chest, your nipples, combined with the kisses and marks he’s attempting to suck on your skin drive you to the final heights you need to climax, convulsing around his cock. Dale falls over the edge with you.

Bliss spreads through your body as Dale collapses backward, you sprawled on his chest. You’re sweaty and overcome and the most satisfied, most content you’ve been in… You let the thought fizzle out and merely sigh happily instead. What more could you ever need than Dale with you in your bed?

Languid sleep laps at your mind, but when Dale prompts you, you go through the motions of nighttime ritual. He murmurs an apology when you shudder from the feel of tepid water and sigh from any movement at all that’s not horizontal. Soon enough you’re clad in a fresh shift, Dale in only his own shirt, standing by the bed. He looks, with hesitation at the door.

“Do not leave, not until you must,” you say as you lean against him, hand over his heart. Not an ask, but not a demand.

“I won’t,” Dale replies, the solemnity of an oath, the fervor of a declaration of love—more powerful in the dark of your bedroom. He shuffles you over to the bed until you’re lying down against his chest once more. “There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

That warmth of belonging wraps around you at his words and you gently kiss his neck in answer, before mustering the sleep-weary words to say, “There’s no one else I’d want.” It’s so easy to admit now, so freeing to say aloud.

Dale presses a kiss to your head. He echoes, “Only you.”

69 notes · View notes

alientee · 9 months

Note

hi! just read your ‘To Live’ Mauga x Reader and absolutely loved it, and kinda had a request sort of along the same lines as that one (that is only if you’re taking requests ofc)

So like, say Mauga’s away on Talon work and what-not, but while he’s away Reader’s home/general area gets attacked (maybe a null sector ship crashes or smth?) and like Reader does get injured and kinda bleeds a slightly worrying amount but nothing a health pack and some rest won’t fix really, so they manage to go get medical help. So Mauga obviously finds out, rushes back from his mission, and seeing the worrying amount of blood staining the ruins of the reader’s home has him all worried the worst happened. So he spends practically a full day digging around the ruins of the house, panic just slowly building as he searches, and by sunrise he just has nearly given up; sitting in the rubble somewhere between pure despair and unbridled rage towards himself, when he hears reader call his name, and surprise, reader is alive and well, standing right outside the ruins of the house, albeit with a few bandages. Then bam! Fluff.

Didn’t realize this was gonna be this long but thanks for reading this pitch anyways 👍

Another Mauga x reader

This is so cute so of course I had to write it ! Thank you for asking for this I’ll answer a request if I have time and or if it’s in my comfort zone and I wrote this the day you sent it I was that excited I hope you enjoy! (SIDE NOTE I HAVE SO MUCH SMUT COMING FOR MAUGA YALL) gender neutral reader x Mauga

You sat on the couch, watching a horror movie, waiting for Mauga to get home. You learned not to worry too much about him going on missions with Talon; that man lives for the thrill.

You go to the kitchen to get some snacks. Sometimes you did get lonely when he left for a mission, but the chaotic life wasn’t for you. And just as you got your food alarms, start blaring from the outside.

You quickly set everything down and go to your window. You look out into the sky. You couldn’t help the anxiety that filled you. “it’s null sector."

Explosions rang outside while you ran up the stairs, hoping nothing hit your house. You should’ve known you wouldn’t be so lucky. As the explosions get louder, your house starts to shake. That’s when it all came crumbling down, and so did you.

“OUCH FUCK!”

You could feel your muscles ache and a sting in your ankle; you knew the feeling all too well; your eyesight was distorted, and you felt dizzy. But you couldn’t dwell on that, you had fell from the now broken stairs and sprained your ankle. And as more of your home crumbles so does your way out. Everything seemed to be blocked off except your broken window.

The small space would be difficult to go through, but you didn’t have a choice. You push yourself through the window. That’s when you feel searing, hot pain shoot through you. You begin to scream. “FUCKING FUDGE NUTS”

You didn’t realize there was some glass still around the edges of the window, but you couldn’t stop now. With one hard push, you fall out of the window, gripping your side in pain. And just as you got out of the house, it completely came down. There’s a large glass shard in your side. You slowly pull it out, screaming in anguish. You look at the rest of the village, realizing that they are fighting back and null sector is retreating. You let out a sigh of relief. It was kind of annoying that your house had to fall, but at least now you were safe and you didn’t have to worry about it.

"Now let’s see if I can limp to the medical center.”

Mauga had a good day. He used Chacha and Gunny, caused some chaos, and he got paid. What more could he ask for? He was cleaning his guns when Sombra came up to him.

"It looks like null sector strikes again. The boss might have us go pick up some of their tech for data. Try not to cause too much of a mess if we do."Mauga looks at her, amused by the statement. "Come on, Somb you know me, what’s the fun in that?”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Mauga, plus you wouldn’t want to cause trouble on your own stomping grounds, would you?"

“What are you talking about!?”

Sombra looked at him guilty. "Yeah, I probably should’ve started with Somoa getting attacked.”

Before she could say anything else, he was out of the room, guns in hand.

Mauga made it back to Somoa as quickly as he could. The whole island wasn’t damaged, but there was enough damage to know the clean-up would take a long time. Mauga rushes to your home, hoping you were okay. You had to be okay. When he got to your home, he dropped his guns to the ground.

Where was your home? Nothing but rubble lay in the distance. He walked towards the house; he didn't even realize he ended up running by the time he got to the wreckage.

“Y/N!!!!” He screamed your name. Mauga knew that when he didn’t get an answer, he had to move.

“They’re ok; they gotta be ok." Mauga nodded to himself. He knew you were a fighter, and you were smart. There’s no way you’d just lay down and die. He dug through the rubble of the house. He went through every single part of it he could move. And what he couldn’t pick up, he tried to dig under with his bare hands.

Hours and hours he spent moving rubble bricks and broken glass. His hands were covered in cuts and slightly rubbed raw from all the material he was trying to drag. The hours of the night ended up being until dawn.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” Mauga couldn’t help but feel like shit. All the times you asked him to take a day off to spend time with him. All the times you told him you were lonely. All the time you worried for him. Every hug he got lasted more than a minute because he was gone so long. He always told you that no matter what, he’d protect you because he’s strong enough to win every time. He couldn’t always be there to save you, so you had to be strong too.

“A fucking joke,” he said, picking up a large piece of what was the door and flinging it.

“PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT” Mauga feels so much rage and so much sadness that he’s started throwing things everywhere. Not even caring, he threw his own guns. “I can’t protect shit! I couldn’t back up a fucking thing I said to them. I’m such a fucking joke! I couldn't even stay for em………they’re gone…… I couldn’t even fucking …….they can’t be…. they fucking can’t be gone.”

Mauga falls to his knees, not caring that his body has given out, that his hands are slightly bleeding, or that he flung his guns to God knows where. “The fuck am I going to do?” He puts his head in his hands. The stress is getting to him, and he can’t get it together.

“Mauga ! Your back!"

Mauga looks up, and he can’t believe what he’s seeing. There you are, covered in bandages, limping towards him. He slowly stands up, but he runs towards you like he’s going to tackle you. And he kind of does; he holds you in his arms tightly, bringing your face to his chest. He didn’t realize he was squeezing your wound.

"Ow! Mauga, I’m injured!”

He quickly lets you go but catches you before you completely drop to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He rubs your arms, putting his forehead against yours. “I…. I thought you were gone, baby…. I thought I lost you." His voice was raspy from screaming so much earlier, louder than he’s ever screamed, and that’s saying something for someone as loud as him. You wrapped your arms around him, snuggling into his chest, and you listened to his two heartbeats that sounded out of control.

“I’m ok; I’m here; it’s fine.” You try consoling him.

“When everything fell down, I got out but got glass stuck in my side, and I sprained my ankle. But I was strong, just like you said I had to be, haha." He smiled and picked you up, princess-style, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he leans in, giving you a soft, passionate kiss, tangling his hand in your hair, and bringing you in as close as he can. He leans back from the kiss, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles and staring into your eyes, looking at you like he’d lose you if he looked away.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe, ok? Get you cleaned up and fed,” he pecks your lips. You nod at him, leaning your head into his neck and slightly tracing his tattoos. You were happy to be in his arms again. Mauga ended up bringing you back to his place, which was surprisingly untouched.

He takes off your clothes and carries you to the tub. He’s about to move to help you bathe, but you stop him. "Mauga, what happened to your hands, honey?" He looks down, his hands covered in cuts and dried blood. "I just got carried away. I’m fine.”

You gave him a look. "No, you're going to go get your hands looked at.”

He looked at you angrily, giving you a snarl. “I’m not leaving you!”

You lean back, not expecting him to get so angry. “Mauga I’m ok now; you’re here on the island with me. I’m not afraid, and you shouldn’t be either. If they come back, I know I’m the safest I could ever be because you're near."

Mauga sighs. He should’ve expected that. Even though he blames himself, he knows you don’t. And all he wants to do right now is make you happy. So he went to get his hands looked at. He won’t tell you he ran to the infirmary and ran all the way back, though.

When he made it back, Mauga caught you trying to cook. He quickly made his way over, scooping you up and dumping you on the couch. He propped your sprained ankle up and kissed your cheek. "Nope, I got it.” The rest of the day, Mauga took care of you. Getting salt water for your ankle and fixing all your meals. Helping you fix your hair.

He was so sweet, even though you knew he still felt guilty. You end the day cuddling in bed. You were in Maugas lap while he played in your hair, his other hand intertwined with yours. You lay against his chest, listening to his two heartbeats. He couldn’t help but smirk at the concentrated look on your face.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?"

You look at Mauga, wanting to show him you are serious. “I don’t want you to feel bad about what happened. You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

"It doesn't matter; it’s my job to take care of you. You're mine, and I told you I’d always win for you and that I’d never let you get hurt.”

“You also told me to be strong because you always won’t be there, and you were right, and I pushed through because of it!”

He does not want to admit it, but he can’t help but give in, even if you were right and they were his own words. It stings to hear them in the moment. He wants to protect you from everything; he wants to be your rock and your hero. Even though he knows it’s impossible to be that every time.

Mauga hums in agreement, and he slightly leans his body onto you. It’s comforting to have his heavy weight pressing on you. His large, strong hands are on your body, making you feel so safe and protected. His gentle kisses and affection show you how much he means it; he’ll make sure you're taken care of no matter what. Being wrapped in his large arms puts comfort in your heart.

Mauga kisses your nose. “How about I take a break from missions? We can spend some time together on another island, just you and me, sugar.”

You smile, kissing him back softly. “Alright, just you and me.”

#mauga #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch mauga #mauga x reader #ow mauga #mauga overwatch #overwatch x reader #maugaloa malosi

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anistarrose · 5 months

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taz balance one-shot recs!

I've been meaning to make this post for a while now, so here we are! The majority of these are from the past three years or so, because I love a fandom classic as much as anyone, but I particularly want to shine a light on some gems from after the peak of traffic in the fandom tags! There are of course also exceptions that are older, though.

Also, April 19th-21st are Just Leave a Comment Fest, so please show these authors some love!! They're all so deserving!

a recipe for home by @journalofimprobablethings: Taako tries to cook for the first time since Glamour Springs. When things go awry, Lucretia is there to lend a hand.

Gen (Taako & Lucretia), 3.5k. Early B.O.B. era hurt/comfort centered around cooking, with a delicious dollop of sentimentality and dramatic irony on top.

Seven Times Magnus Burnsides Gave Someone A Hug + One Time He Received One by @barry-j-blupjeans: Magnus wasn't really any good at— at words. He was more of an action man. Or, y'know, a "I'll take this hit so you don't have to" man. Talking to someone about their feelings was all kinds of weird, so usually he just left the space for someone else to talk. And, well... Magnus wasn't good at words. But there's a few different ways to get his support across.

Mostly gen with some Magnulia, 8.6k. You've all heard of the classic 5 Plus 1, but obviously Magnus deserves a 7 Plus 1! I don't know how to describe it without spoilers other than being full of incredibly sweet, gentle takes on so many fraught or bittersweet moments. Super underrated, do give it a read.

Embrace the Dark by @ceilingfan5: Bookstore coworkers Kravitz and Taako get more than they bargained for when Taako tries to use his powers to fix Kravitz's migraine. But it's okay--it's an excuse for them to spend time together until one of them can nut up and ask the other out.

Taakitz, 8.9k. Modern with Superpowers AU! Super sweet interactions between Kravitz and Taako, paired with lots of fun background worldbuilding. And, of course, a very special grilled cheese sandwich.

Break This Heavy Chain by Punka_Writes: In the immediate aftermath of Story and Song, Barry Bluejeans could really use a hug.

Blupjeans and misc. platonic interactions, 2.3k. The absolute epitome of comfort food in written form, with excellent Barry characterization (and of course, he does get that hug)!

birds of a feather steal sweaters together by @holdmecloser-gandydancer: When you're a big, burly guy it seems that your clothes just become free reign for all your friends. Normally Magnus is a reasonable guy, but everyone has their limits.

Gen (IPRE crew), 1.9k. Starblaster era fluff! Everyone is written absolutely delightfully, and every time I read it I snort out loud at least twice.

Security by @ceilingfan5: Barry has finally made it--his incredible scientific discovery has landed him a huge fortune...and a lot of problems. The only good thing that's come of it, honestly, has been his bodyguard, Lup. (And the science. That's good also.) He's just gotta stay normal about how nice it is to have someone like Lup around, and also not perish by way of press circuit, and everything will be fine.

Blupjeans, 6k. Modern with magic AU from Barry's POV, featuring equal parts anxiety and pining. Also, it's straight-up extremely funny.

Lonesome Dreams by @jerreeeeeee: Taako wakes up one morning from a nightmare, fast fading. There was a guy in glasses, and they were… somewhere high up? Something terrible happened, but he doesn’t remember. He wakes up in a wagon he’s never seen before, but it has his name on it. There’s tons of food inside, more than he’d be able to afford. And he’s alone. Thinking back to the last thing he remembers is difficult. College? No, he’d graduated. Top of his class, obviously, he remembers that. But what- what happened after? Where is Lup?

Gen (Taako & Lup), 10.2k. Everything starts out the same, except Taako remembers Lup, even if not how she went missing, and it's incredibly underrated and full of phenomenal characterization. I won't spoil how things shake out, but it's a great emotional ride and I genuinely reread it all the time.

it's my party and I'll mope if I want to by @holdmecloser-gandydancer: Taako's birthday is just another Thursday. A detective and an old friend have a different idea.

Gen (Taako & Lucretia & Angus), 2.1k. Short and so sweet! Fics about voidfished!Taako's birthday never get old, and this is one of my absolute favorites. Nailing the angst-to-wholesome ratio.

Tedious Familiarity by @barry-j-blupjeans: Déjà vu. Noun. A feeling of having already experienced the present situation. A tedious familiarity. Barry Bluejeans woke up in a cave, fresh out of a pod filled with green goop, and saddled with an unsettling feeling that he had been here before. If you had asked forty-year-old Barry if he would follow instructions left by a talking coin, he probably would have asked you what type of drugs you were on. But, y’know, fifty… two? Fifty-one? How old was he? Fifty-two sounded right. But, y’know, fifty-two years old Barry didn’t really have that many other places to turn, so this couldn't be all that bad.

Gen, 4.1k. Missing scenes based off Barry's decade alone, written in such an effective style, where all the little details truly make it. Mandatory reading for fellow Barry angst enjoyers.

Angus McDonald and the Wonderland Escape Rooms by coppersunshine: When Angus gets grounded from detecting, to keep his skills sharp he becomes a patron of the Wonderland Escape rooms, run by Edward and Lydia, who quickly decide he's their new nemesis. To their surprise, Angus and the collection of weird adults he's accompanied by decide otherwise.

Gen (Angus & Edward & Lydia), 7k. Modern with magic AU, putting Edward and Lydia in the absolute funniest possible job, at which a little boy detective torments... and maybe, even gives them a chance to turn over a new leaf. I am of the opinion that Angus and the Wonderland twins have a criminally underexplored dynamic, and this fic gave me everything I wanted.

If the Sun and Moon Should Doubt by Punka_Writes: Merle Highchurch, on the brink of a bad decision.

Gen, 1.6k. Merle character study immediately before running out on his marriage. Truly the incredible characterization that Merle deserves; this was a fic that really ignited my love for him.

Greensleeves by @sgrumby: Kravitz has never seen a lich like this before, and he's seen a lot of liches. Merle is just trying to save the universe, thanks very much.

Gen (Kravitz & Merle), 2.2k. A unique and also absolutely genius Lich!Merle AU where Kravitz inevitably comes after him, and Merle is... well, the Peacemaker, of course!

#taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #fic rec #long post

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canadianfangirl-95 · 5 months

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Karma

Frankie Morales fanfiction x f! reader pov

Summary: Triple Frontier guys attend a night club to see a band that isn’t typically their style. Frankie seeks solitude at the bar but becomes entranced by a mysterious stranger on the stool next to him.

No mention of the events of Triple Frontier, character based only.

Rating: 18+, minors DNI

Warning: smut, p in v, oral m receiving, alcohol consumption, talks of anxiety, mental health and therapy (we love a king that goes to therapy)

Word count: 8600+

Loud rock music sounded in the club as Frankie, Santiago, Benny, and Will squeezed between the crowd of people to find a tall table to lean against. The floor was sticky, and the music was so loud they had to all but yell at each other to talk. There were lights flashing everywhere to go along with the music the band on the stage was playing. There was a dance floor where a mosh pit of customers collected to head bang to the heavy metal music the band was currently playing. Frankie looked around feeling completely out of place from the small-town tavern he was used to.

“This place is fucking nuts.” Will shouted at the group.

They all nodded I agreement, trying not to talk if they didn’t have to in order to save their lungs the exhaustion. They would normally never come to a place like this, but Benny wanted to see the main band that was going to be on stage shortly because the drummer was a buddy of his at the gym. The rest of the group obliged as he had promised to buy a couple rounds and of course they didn’t have much better to do that night. Frankie was soon regretting his slow social life as he would definitely prefer to be anywhere he wasn’t getting shoved up against as people moved past him.

Frankie leaned into the group, “What’s this band called anyway?”

“Karma and the Catastrophes!” Benny shouted back at him.

Santiago interjected, “Where are those beers you promised us? Definitely gonna need it with this crowd.”

Benny reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills, “Can one of you get them I’m gonna go see if my buddy is backstage before he goes on.”

Frankie reached over and snagged the money out of his hands. “I’ll go, it looks a bit quieter over there.”

They all nodded as Frankie broke from the group and made his way to the back of the building where the bar was nestled. He noticed a considerable difference in the noise once he got back there and there were less people as most of the crowd was still enjoying the current band.

He leaned into the bar and got the attention of the bartender, signaling for four beers with his hand. He looked over to his right and noticed you sitting on the stool beside him with a glass of water. He was taken aback by your beauty. You were wearing a black tank top and ripped black jeans with leather boots. Your arms were adorned with various traditional Sailor Jerry tattoos.

He didn’t have much luck talking to women, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat the second he saw you. He leaned in and said hi shyly.

You turned your head towards him, “Hey.” You smiled.

He drummed his hands for a beat on the bar before the bartender brought the beers back and he handed him the bills.

“This place gets pretty crazy huh?” he asked, trying his best to make conversation.

“Yeah, I don’t mind it though. I like the energy.” You responded, eyeing him up and down. He had a rough looking baseball hat and stretched grey T-shirt with jeans on. You could see a chain hanging underneath the v line of the shirt and assumed it was dog tags considering there is an army base on the other side of town. Military guys didn’t typically like your exciting lifestyle, but this one seemed harmless enough to at least flirt with.

“You come here often?” You asked, turning to him in your seat.

He grinned at you sheepishly, “Isn’t that my line?”

You smiled up at him, “Well I guess I’m better at this than you are.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I’d say you probably are. I’m a bit out of practice.”

“Don’t worry you’re doing fine. What’s your name?” You winked with a devilish grin.

“Frankie, and yours?” he asked, reaching out his hand.

You gave him your name with a shake of his hand.

He repeated it and immediately felt the noise of the crowd lesson. Suddenly it was just he and you and the beers that were slowly warming on the bar top.

“So, what do I say now since you’re so much better at this than I am?” He leaned in and you could feel his breathing against your cheek. The closer he got you could almost see your reflection in his deep brown eyes.

“Hmm, you should probably start with some cheesy pick-up line.” You replied, keeping your tone light, and popping your eye brows up and down.

Frankie thought for a second, “Oh so I should say something like; you should feel my shirt.”

You looked at him puzzled for a second, but obliged and reached your hand up to run the material on his arm between your fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin as you did so. The fabric was so tight on his flexing arms you had to do your best to not skip a breath.

“Know what’s that’s made of?” he asked, slightly giggling to himself.

You shook your head and pulled your hand back to rest on your lap.

“Boyfriend material.” He said with a wink.

Your face went red, and a laugh came tumbling out as you swatted him playfully. He joined in on your laughter and covered his face with his hand.

“Wow, if that’s you out of practice you must be just swimming in women on a good day.” You jousted back at him.

Frankie shifted and leaned with his back on the bar. “If my friends ever found out I said that they would never let me live it down.” He smiled at you, one of those big dork smiles that always made you melt.

“Oh, I will absolutely tell your friends when I meet them.” You grinned at him.

He nodded back at the bar, “Can I get you a drink?” He asked.

You were suddenly very aware of what the night was to bring, you weren’t exactly in the bar for a social visit. “No, I’m sorry I’m uh- working tonight so I need to stay sober.”

“Oh, are you working here? Like your shift hasn’t started yet?” he asked intently.

You nodded, “Uh yeah something like that. Hey, Frankie I should really get going but can I find you before the end of the night?” You asked as you climbed off the bar stool and nodded at the bartender as he took your glass away.

He stood up straight, “Yeah that’d be great, I’ll see you later.” He smiled as you retreated through the crowd. He watched as you left, replaying your conversation back in his head as he finally turned his attention to the beers he was supposed to be bringing to his friends.

Frankie grabbed the four bottles in his hands and held them high enough as he walked through the crowd that he wouldn’t get them spilled by some drunk idiot getting too rowdy. The first band had seemingly ended during your conversation, so the room was now filled with the sound of voices from the customers. He set the beers down on the table when he finally rejoined his friends. Benny had also returned before he did.

Will reached for his drink, “Geeze took you long enough Fish. Get lost back there?” He asked.

Frankie took a sip from his beer and leaned with his forearms crossed on the table. “Actually, I was busy talking to a very pretty girl I met at the bar thank you very much. Now drink your piss warm beer.”

Santiagos interest was suddenly peaked, “A girl? Really? Frankie Morales actually spoke to a living, breathing woman?” His eyes widened with his sarcastic tone.

Frankie rolled his eyes, “Yeah I did, Pope.”

Santiago pressed on, “Well, come on now. Tell us all about this totally real girl.” He put quotations around real girl to prove his point that he didn’t entirely believe his friend who has always been the worst at picking up woman. Normally needing to send Will or Santiago in first to act as a wing man. He never used Benny anymore. Benny gave off too much of a golden retriever vibe and women instantly wanted to keep him.

“If you must know she is beautiful and funny and,” His voice trailed off as his attention was caught by the stage. You were walking out onto it with the rest of the band and situating yourself in front of the microphone in the middle of the stage. “Right there.” he said inquisitively.

“Hey Houston, are you ready to rock tonight?” You shouted into the microphone and were met with a roar from the crowd.

“What do you mean right there?” Santiago leaned in; Frankie still unable to take his eyes off you.

He stuttered, “She’s, right there that’s her on the stage.”

Benny yelled back at him, raising his voice now that the instruments had started up again. “Who, Karma?”

“What?” Frankie asked, confused by the name.

“Karma, the lead singer.” He replied.

Frankie turned his face back to the group, “Well, that’s not the name she told me.” He scratched his chin as he knew he heard your name right.

Will spoke up, “That’s probably just a stage name for band.”

Frankie nodded, realizing he must be right.

“So, you’re telling me you just picked up the lead singer from the band tonight?” Santiago asked, even more skeptical.

Frankie hummed to himself, realizing he didn’t actually pick you up. He was so dumbfounded by the conversation that he hadn’t even asked for your number. “We had a great talk and she said she would come find me before the end of the night.” He looked down, slightly dampened by the fact that you may have just been being nice and you might not actually find him.

The show wore on and he was amazed by your talent and charisma. You enveloped the stage with your big personality and had an amazing voice to boot. The guys all watched on and nodded their heads along with the rock music. Frankie was falling even more for you, watching your body as you danced along to the music in your tight black outfit. He grew a bit of jealously at the men gawking at you on the dance floor but held his head a bit higher knowing he was the one you were flirting with earlier.

You finally ended the show with a big thank you to the crowd. The guys all clapped their hands and whooped along with the rest of the club. He watched as you collected your things on stage and disappeared behind the curtain. Frankie turned his attention back to the group.

Santiago said, “Wow, they were really good. Not totally regretting the hearing aides I’m gonna have to get after tonight.”

Ben patted Frankie on the back, “So you gonna try to find Karma before she leaves?”

Frankie looked flustered, “I don’t know man did you see her up there? She’s this beautiful, fun, rock star and I’m well. Not that.” He sipped his beer and looked down, unsure of himself.

The guys all looked to each other with empathy, their friend never had the confidence they had. Santiago conceded in an effort to make Frankie feel better. “Oh, come on man, she’d be lucky to have you. I’m sure she’ll find you before the end of the night.”

You finished packing up for the night and said goodbye to the band and crew. Except for the guitarist who drove the equipment van and was your ride home. You promised him you wouldn’t be too long, you just had one thing you needed to do before heading out. You were adamant about finding Frankie before the place closed down for the night. You had to move quickly though, as your cool down took longer than you thought it would.

The crowd was still bustling as you made your way out of the backstage area. Fans cheered for you as you walked by and you smiled at them, trying to scan the crowd for the baseball hat you had seen earlier. Luckily that wasn’t really the look for this kind of crowd so you were hoping he would stick out fairly easily. Just as you were about to give up, you found yourself on the far-left side of the venue and caught sight of a silver chain poking out of the top of a grey T-shirt. You were elated that you had finally found him and pushed yourself through the crowd to tap him on his shoulder. He turned and his eyes went wide at the sight of you standing in front of him.

“Hey!” He gasped.

You bit your lip, slightly nervous. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yeah, I did you were awesome!” He said, “I’m so sorry I had no idea who you were when I was talking to you earlier.”

You smiled back at him “That’s okay, it was a nice talk. I’m glad you didn’t know. Guys tend to act a little differently when they know I’m headlining. They get a bit of a complex about if they can get me home that night.” You answered honestly.

Frankie nodded; he definitely did not want to be thought of as one of those guys, so he knew he had to play it right. “Well, I really liked talking to you too.”

Your heart fluttered, he seemed so nice. You didn’t normally have a connection with the guys you met at your shows, but there was something about him that made you want to see him again. “Um, Frankie, I’m glad I caught you and I know I’ve already done this once tonight, but my ride is waiting for me, so I have to get going. Could I give you my number?”

His mouth gapped, “Yeah, yes that’d be great thanks.” He dug into his pocket to pull his phone out and give it to you.

You took it from him, after entering your name and number you handed it back to him and motioned you were leaving.

He nodded goodbye and then thought for a second, “Hey, wait! What do I call you?”

You winked back at him at him and pointed to his phone before slipping through the crowd.

Frankie looked down at the contact you had just created on his phone.

Karma ;)

He looked back up and you were gone, he felt like all the air in his lungs had disappeared in an instant.

The next morning, you were moving about your kitchen with a spring in your step. You were so used to the punk, tattoo covered guys that frequented your shop and shows, so Frankie seemed like such a breath of fresh air. He was so innocent and spirited. You couldn’t help but check your phone on the kitchen island as you made your brunch. Hoping a text would pop up and you would get to see him again. He didn’t seem the type to take a girl’s number and ghost her, and he definitely didn’t seem like the kind to wait the typical three days before texting a girl to not come off as eager. No, Frankie was different, and you could tell right away. The way his smile was so big when he laughed and he snorted a bit. The way he leaned in to talk to you with so much respect and ensuring not to touch you even once before you’ve shown real interest. The steam coming off the stove top finally snapped you out of your trance. You carefully finished your omelet and settled onto the couch with your coffee to continue your annual binge of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Meanwhile, across town, Frankie was doing his own daydreaming about the night before. He sat on the couch with his phone flipping up and down in his hands as he rested his head on the back of the sofa. He let out an agonizing moan as he continued to think about what to do next. He hadn’t felt this lovesick in forever, and you seemed so confident, so he didn’t want to mess it up and scare you off.

Santiago rounded the couch and sat down on the opposite end. “You gotta calm down man it’s just a text.” He sipped from his coffee and turned on the tv to find a sports channel to play in the background.

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut, “It’s not just a text, you’ve said it yourself man.” He propped himself up straighter on the couch, “I’m shit at talking to women. I know I’ve only talked to her for like, five minutes but I like her. I don’t wanna screw it up before it even starts.”

His friend shook his head, “Look man, she could had gone home with probably a dozen guys last night but instead she found you. Asked to give you her number and then went home. She obviously likes you too. Just be yourself and it’ll be fine.”

Frankies head spun, he knew Santiago must be right, but it was so hard to trust the process. Be myself, he thought to himself. What would Frankie do if he really liked a girl and wanted to see her again. He’d probably call her if he was being honest with himself. However, that seemed so old fashion, and you were a rock star with tattoos and a confidence that would shake the ground. Would you like old fashioned? Or would it be annoying? He figured there was no time like the present to find out.

He stood up and patted his friend on the shoulder as he made his way to his room for some privacy, closing the door behind him as paced in his room for a minute before finally dialing the phone. He stood with his hand on his hip and bit his lip waiting for the call to connect.

You had finished your meal and were scrolling on your phone as the show played in the background when it suddenly started ringing. It startled you so much the phone nearly flung out of your hands as you tried to calm yourself. An unknown number, but definitely local based on the area code. You don’t normally answer calls right away, preferring to send it to voicemail and then call the person back if needed, but something about the timing of this call peaked your interest so you decided to answer it on speaker.

“Hello?” you said, holding the phone just below your mouth with a curious look on your face.

“Hey, uh- it’s Frankie.”

Your mouth gapped, you couldn’t believe he was calling you so soon. It made your head spin at his forwardness, but your heart flutter at how old-fashioned he seemed to be.

“Hey Frankie, what’s up?” You asked. “What’s up” you thought to yourself. What are you seventeen? You rubbed your palm on your forehead.

“Oh, nothing just at home. I hope I’m not calling too early I’m sure you had a late-night.”

“No, no it’s fine I’ve been up for an hour now.”

“Good, good. So, I hope I’m not being to forward but I was uh- wondering if you would be interested in going out sometime?”

You bit your nail in your nervousness, “Yeah I would love that.”

“Great, what are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing, tonight would be perfect actually. This is one of the only Saturdays this month I don’t have a show.”

“Oh perfect, uh- do you want to go for drinks or dinner or,”

“Uh- drinks and some appetizers would be good if you want?” You held your breath.

“Yeah, that sounds great, how about I pick you up at 8?”

“Okay, I’ll text you my address.” You replied.

“Sounds good, I’ll see you tonight.”

You grinned to yourself, “Okay, bye Frankie.”

“Looking forward to it, bye K-, uh, what do you actually want me to call you?”

“Oh, yeah you can call me Karma. Kind of a nickname, I think there’s only like, four people that call me by my other name.” You scratched your head, hoping he wouldn’t think your sultry nickname was a red flag.

“Oh okay, cool. Well than, bye Karma.”

“Bye.” You said as you clicked the phone off.

You rocked your head back against the top of the couch and then looked down at the time. You had nothing else planned for the rest of the day other than tidy up the shop and apparently figure out what to wear tonight. He obviously liked your edgy style as he had seen what you were wearing the night before, but a part of you wanted to mix it up a bit and give this old-fashioned guy a treat.

You got up and immediately ran to your closet, throwing dresses and rompers and shirts all over your room. Trying to find the perfect ensemble to hypnotize your new gentleman friend when your eyes locked onto something in the far back corner of your closet.

Frankie returned to the living room, grinning at his phone as he sat back down on the couch and looked up at the tv, not saying anything to his friend who was looking at him with squinted eyes.

“What’s that face all about?” Santiago asked.

Frankie leaned forward to slide his phone into his back pocket. “Just got off the phone with Karma, we’re going out tonight.” He looked over at his friend with a sly smile on his face.

Santiago tapped his hand on Frankie’s chest, “Well hot damn, look at you go. Wait did you call her?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, you told me to be myself and that’s what I wanted to do.” He shrugged.

“Huh, well more power to you. I like this confident Frankie. Where are you gonna take her?”

Frankie thought for a second, he would very much like something quiet considering his ears are still ringing from last night, “I think that one pub downtown by the Walgreens is nice and quiet?” He chewed the inside of his cheek as he considered a few other options. Ultimately deciding to just go with that place as it isn’t nearly as busy as some of the other options around town.

He waited patiently for your address, which you texted to him around dinner time. His face lit up when your name came across the screen with the wink emoji.

It was 7:55pm when Frankie rolled up outside your house. He looked up at the sign on the front, “Karmas Chaos”. He figured you must run a business out of your house and wondered what it was. He got out and rounded the front of his truck when you opened the front door, and he was suddenly star struck.

You stood before him with your hair curled in a summer like wave, your white converse on and a beautiful yellow sun dress that showed off your many tattoos. The dress had small straps and a low neckline, it dipped at your waist to accentuate your curves and then flared out to rest at mid-thigh. It had a knot on the back with a cut out just below. It was far more feminine than you were used to, you think you bought it years ago for a cousin’s wedding, but something drew you to it and you thought it would make a good first impression on Frankie.

He stood there mouth gapped as you walked down the steps, “Hi.” You smiled at him and gave him a little wave. You hiked your shoulder bag higher as it had begun to slip, and you needed something to do with your nervous hands.

Frankie stalled for a second and finally replied, “Hey, you look great.” He said with a big smile. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscience about the fact that he is wearing an outfit almost identical to the one he wore last night, except now his T-shirt was black with a band logo on it from a concert he can’t even remember. The material long stretched and over washed to point where the logo had begun fading and breaking apart.

“You do too.” You responded before leaning in for a quick hug.

He shuffled his feet, “I was thinking we could go to Burt’s, downtown if that’s okay?”

You beamed up at him, “Yeah that would be great.” You broke your gaze to round his truck, but before you could reach for the handle Frankie appeared beside you and opened the door. You looked startled, but really you were just amazed by his chivalry. You’ve never had anyone open your door before, so you just nodded your thanks and stepped onto the step bar to jump up into the truck. He swiftly closed it behind you and made his way to jump into the driver’s side.

As he turned the ignition, the radio fired up again and a familiar tune from Motley Crue came through the speakers. “Oh, I love this song.” You remarked.

He smiled, “Me too, they’re probably my favourite band.”

You hummed along to the music. He glanced over at you, “Well come on now, don’t keep that beautiful voice to yourself.” He smiled, the curls peaking out from under his seemingly signature hat dancing in the wind.

You felt yourself blush but obliged, singing along to the music with the windows down, blowing your hair about as the music filled the cab. When the chorus came around Frankie gave his best imitation of the lead singer and you laughed. He chuckled, “Maybe I’ll leave the singing to you.”

“No, no you’re great. I could listen to you all night.” You winked at him and he grinned, finally taking his attention back to the road. The rest of the commentary for the drive continued to be about music and favourite bands to see in concert, yours being his new favourite of course.

You thanked the waitress for your seats and settled into a booth along the wall of the restaurant. It was a little more modern than you thought it would be given what you’ve seen from Frankies taste but definitely not a chain restaurant. There were vintage movie posters adorned on the walls giving it a warm look, but it was met with modern furniture and paint to keep it lively. There was a poster hanging in your booth of a movie you guessed must be from the 50s at least and you stared briefly at the faded colour, reminding you of the faded T-shirt currently sitting across from you.

Frankie looked at you nervously, “So, I saw the sign on your door. Do you run a business out of your house?”

You nodded confidently, “Yeah I’m a tattoo artist.” He nodded along, listening intently. “I have a shop in my house that is just me. It’s nice because then I get to choose my hours and can line things up really well with my band practice and shows.”

“Wow, that’s great. You must be pretty busy balancing both those.” He stated.

“I try to take Sundays and Mondays off and then I never work before 11am so I definitely still get some free time. I was supposed to have an appointment today, but they rescheduled so I got a totally free Saturday for once.” You smiled; very glad you had the extra time to get ready for this date. “What do you do?” you asked as the waitress reappeared with some waters.

“What can I get you for drinks?” she asked.

You replied, “I’ll have a whiskey sour, please.”

She nodded and looked at Frankie. “Just a Corona, thanks.”

With that she left the table, leaving you and Frankie alone.

You looked back at Frankie, unsure if you needed to repeat yourself but before you could speak, he replied, “I’m an instructor at the base, I was a pilot in active duty.”

Hm, your suspicions on the dog tags were correct. “How long have you served for?” You asked, leaning with your forearms against the dark wood table.

“Since I graduated from high school, I enlisted right away.”

You popped your eyebrows up, that’s a long time to be in the service. Most guys you have met from the base were a five-year contract and then out.

“Wow Frankie, that’s really really amazing. I’m not surprised by the way you carry yourself though that you’ve been in that long.” You said, slightly bashful.

He looked confused, but still flattered, “Why do you say that?”

“You just, uh- you know you seem really old-fashioned and proper.” You replied sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear, and averting your gaze back to the poster.

Frankie looked down for a second, “Oh, do you not really like that?”

“No, no, it’s great.” He perked up at your response. “I actually love it; I’ve never been out with a guy that’s treated me the way you do.” You smiled at him and reached your hand out for him to take. He let out a relived huff and reached his hand up to take yours and give it a slight squeeze.

“Well, I don’t know hermosa. You just deserve to be treated the best and I’m sorry no guy has ever done that for you.”

You both beamed at each other, eyes sparkling with desire when the waitress seemingly appeared out of nowhere with your drinks. You quickly broke your hands apart and nodded politely. You wrang your hands together, still feeling the warmth of his much larger hand on yours.

“Do you know what you’d like for food?” The waitress kindly asked.

Both of your eyes widened, neither of you had even thought about the food as you were too busy making googly eyes at each other. You looked at each other and gave out a chuckle. “Um, I think we’re gonna need a few more minutes actually.” Frankie nodded along as the waitress left.

The evening wore on and you shared food and stories. He told you all about his time in the service so far and the friends he’s made along the way. You told him about your business and band and how you’re a really creative person and need all these outlets. You also spoke about your anxiety and how when you’re focused on a tattoo or a song, you get to ease your mind and allow yourself to relax. He commended you and spoke about his time in therapy for some anxiety he had after he was done active duty. None of your exes ever went to therapy or spoke about mental health, so your heart warmed listening to him speak so intentionally.

Frankie’s truck pulled up and parked out front of your house and you gave a huff of disappointment that the night was coming to an end. You looked at your phone and noticed the time wasn’t too late. You bit your lip and thought to yourself, would it be too much to ask him inside? Would he want to hookup, or would he think that’s all you’re interested in? He looked to you with a sheepish smile on his face, he was clearly disappointed the night was slowly coming to a close as well. You thought it couldn’t do more harm than good if you at least asked him inside for a little bit.

“Hey Frankie, um- do you? Do you want to come in for a drink?” You asked, trying not to make eye contact so you could hide your reaction should you be met with rejection.

His face lit up at the suggestion, “Yeah for sure thanks.”

Your face darted up to meet his and you smiled, getting out of the truck and wandering up the steps to your house. He followed closely behind, placing his hand on the small of your back as you went up the steps, seemingly ready to catch you should you trip.

You eased the door open and stepped aside to let him in. He passed you with a nod and stood in your living room looking around as you flicked on some lights, kicked off your sneakers and settled your bag on a counter. The room flowed from the living room to a dining table and a kitchen with an island. There were band posters and your own artwork on the walls. The furniture had a 50’s vibe with lots of red and black and white checkers. Your kitchen cabinets were an emerald green with gold accents. He loved how much personality you put into the space and stood staring at one of your drawings of a mermaid covered in tattoos on the wall beside a door.

You approached him with your arms crossed and looked to the drawing as well.

“You’re incredible, this is such a cool piece.” He said, smiling at you.

You nodded back, “Thank you, if you like that you should see the one’s I have in my studio.” You tilted your head to the door beside you and opened it. He followed you in and was greeted by the smell of cleaning products and alcohol wipes. Your studio was small with one tattoo chair in the middle of the room and a workstation along the back wall. The walls were covered in photographs and drawings you’ve done.

You plopped down on your wheely stool as he lingered around the room, looking at seemingly every piece you’ve posted. “So, mister military.” He looked down at you, resting his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t ask, do you have any tattoos?”

He looked slightly embarrassed, “No, no I never did. I’ve thought about a few but never pulled the trigger.”

You nodded, “Well,” You spun in your chair and grabbed your tattoo gun behind you. Spinning back around his eyes went wide, “you want one now?” you giggled to yourself.

“Uh- hm.” He laughed, looking nervous. “Fuck it yeah let’s do it.” He clapped his hands on his thighs and shook out some nerves with his fingers.

You beamed at him, extremely excited for the turn the night took. You rolled over to your drawing board, “Okay so what are we thinking? A little cartoon helicopter, a bottle of tequila, a tramp stamp?” He laughed at your line of questioning.

“Actually uh- there’s this one helicopter I loved flying. The code was UH-1N. I think I’d like that, just something simple.” He kneaded his hands together.

You started writing, doing a couple different styles of handwriting. You leaned back and showed them to him, and he picked one of the more structured looked fonts. “Alright, get in that chair and I’ll get you prepped.”

He sheepishly moved over to the chair and rested himself in. “So where do you want it?” you asked as you collected your supplies and prepared the station.

“Just here below my elbow on the forearm.” He pointed to his right arm.

Frankie sat still, watching you work. He could see the wheels turning in your head as you laid down the plastic wrap on the arm rest he would be using, getting the ink ready, sanitizing everything and getting the stencil cut.

You finally pulled some gloves on and placed the stencil on his arm. “How’s that look?”

He shifted in the seat to look at his arm, “Yeah that’s great, thanks.” He smiled at you.

You started buzzing the tattoo gun, “Alright I think we’re good then.” You could feel the heat of his arm through the gloves and your glance waivered slightly to his bicep in his sleeve. Pulled tight from his straining muscle trying to stay still.

“How much does it hurt?” he asked?

Your attention went back to him, “Hm? Oh, um, not bad at all. What’s the worst pain you’ve ever had?”

He took a beat, “Well, I’ve been shot so.” His voice trailed and your eyes went wide. He said he was in active duty for a long time, I guess it makes sense that he was in live fire. However, the thought of him going through something so traumatic made your stomach flip.

You stuttered, “Yeah, um, that would definitely hurt more than this will, so I think you’ll be fine.” You did your best to put on a confident smile, but really you were now nervous.

He nodded as you began. His arm didn’t even flinch beneath your hands. You held your head as close to it as you could so you wouldn’t get too distracted by the burning eyes you could feel coming from him.

Frankie looked at you so intently and he felt a familiar twitch in his pants as he glanced down and caught a glimpse of your cleavage as you were bent over. He tried his best to look around the room, until his mouth gapped at the sight of a photo on the wall which featured a woman topless, holding her breasts showing off a colourful butterfly splayed out on the top of her ribs. The face was cut off, but he instantly recognized the tattoo on the left hand, as it happens to be the one holding onto his arm right now. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling the stretch of his jeans even more now. He couldn’t even feel the needle of the tattoo gun anymore, too busy trying to pry the unholy thoughts from his mind. Everything about you made him burn with desire. He didn’t know where the night would lead, but he was aching to feel your touch more.

You wiped the last bit of ink off him and smiled at him. “Okay, here you go. Take a look.”

Bringing his back up from the seat he pulled his arm forward and looked at your work, “That’s great thank you.”

Nodding, you started cleaning the site and then placed the second skin on it tightly. Pulling off your gloves you grabbed one of your standard info flyers and a small tube of cream. “So, leave that on for a day, take it off in the shower with some soap. It will hurt like a bitch, sorry about that.” He smiled along with you. “No hot tubs or pools and keep this moisturizer on it for a few weeks as it heals. Oh, and no itching. It’s gonna suck but just don’t do it.” You stood from your stool and reached out your hand to help him stand from the awkward seat.

He grabbed your hand and stood, looking down at you as your faces were so close. “What do I owe you?”

You flushed, the tone in his voice was suddenly so deep and arousing. You did your best to not show how flustered you were with the sudden change in his demeanor and took a step back. “Oh gosh nothing, I do little tattoos for free like that all the time.” You waved your hands casually. “Plus, I kind of peer pressured you into it so.” You had backed up enough that your ass was now resting against the drawing table with your arms crossed. You hadn’t meant to back up that much, but as you kept stepping, he had followed you. His body still so close, you could see his eyes flick around your face, seemingly taking in every little bit of you.

He breathed out of his nose deeply, “You wanna go sit down? You look a little lightheaded.” He said as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nodded, looking up to him with sparkling eyes. Full of lust and need. He turned his body so you could pry yourself from the desk that had been digging into you and followed as you headed towards the living room. You positioned yourself on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you as he sat beside and rested his arm on the top of the couch behind you.

Nervously looking around, trying your best to ignore the ache between your legs as he looked at you with darkened eyes. “Do you need a drink or-?”

“You know, I never did ask you why your nickname is Karma?” His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply.

Chest turning red, pupils dilating. You were so entranced by this man, you answered softly. “I’m just a uh- big believer in karma and I’ve always really seen it around me. You know, people are good to me, and good things happen and then people who have really wronged me, they uh- don’t always have things work out for them. So yeah, just became something I grew a lot of interest in and then others started noticing it with the people I had in life and so the nickname sparked. Almost like I entice karma into people’s lives, who surround me.”

He peered down at you, usually this explanation makes people nervous. Frankie only seemed challenged, like he wanted to prove something to you. You’re not sure what happened during that tattoo, but something flipped in this seemingly wholesome man which resulted in him growing a hunger towards you.

“So, you’re saying if I do good things to you, good things will happen to me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. You could hear only his breath and your heartbeat.

“Yeah, I guess.” You lightly giggled, not breaking eye contact with him.

His eyes grew even darker, and he leaned in. Your breath was caught in your throat as you felt the intense ache between your legs watching him lean into you. His eyes flicking to your lips, you turned your head slightly and leaned in as well, meeting him in the middle with a soft kiss. He brought his hand to your knee and started drawing circles with it on your soft skin. Your hand rose up to cup his face and the intensity suddenly grew. You didn’t expect this first date to go this way, but now you’ve found yourself straddled on his lap on your couch making out like you may die tomorrow. Pulling each other’s hair, nipping at jaws and necks, the incessant moaning growing between you. You felt like you were drunk, but this intoxication wasn’t from any kind of substance, no this was all Frankie. The way he ran his hands all over your body and pulled you down to grind your hot and wet core through your panties on his hard bulge made your head spin.

He grabbed the bottom of your dress and looked to you with pleading eyes, “Is this okay?”

You took a deep breath, “It’s more than okay Frankie, I need you.”

His face turned to a smirk, and he pulled your dress up and over your head, throwing it aside. You had thankfully chosen to forgo your usual everyday bra that gets washed once a month and went without one altogether. He sat back and basked in your exposed breasts. You shivered as he traced a finger on your butterfly tattoo beneath them. His mouth curled into a devilish grin leaning down and sucking on one of your nipples as he palmed and squeezed the other with his hand. You moaned and began grinding on him harder. He pulled himself off and you reached down to pull his shirt off him. The chain and dog tag laden on his chest made your knees quiver. He was so broad and full, a real man you thought to yourself.

You rejoined your lips, sucking on each other’s tongues as his hand moved down and swiped around on the front of your panties before dipping a finger in and starting to draw little circles on your clit. You bucked up at the sensation and started to lose your technique with your kissing. Your head fell to his shoulder as his pace picked up and he sat there watching you break resolve and come undone to his touch. You felt the build up and then suddenly the knot in your gut broke and you flowed into your orgasm. Frankie somehow knew exactly when it happened because just as you started, he slipped his fingers further down and slid two of them perfectly in your pussy. You groaned at the relief of being able to squeeze onto something. He pumped you slowly as you came down from your high and peppered kisses along your neck while you slumped over him, regaining your breath and strength.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and you leaned back, holding onto his broad shoulders for balance. He looked at you intently, and you burned for more. You reached between the two of you and startled pulling apart his belt as he held your waist to keep you balanced. He lifted his hips so you could get up and slide his pants and underwear down to the ground. You saw his length spring free and felt your mouth water, it was so perfect in every way with beads of precum seeping from the tip. You quickly fell to your knees and in one fell swoop took his member completely in your mouth. His head fell back at the sensation as you sucked and bobbed your head up and down. You used your hand to stroke the part of it that couldn’t fit into your mouth even if you tried. You worked him up and down, doing your best to take as much as you could down your throat, he reached down put his hand along your neck, feeling it throb with his cock inside.

“Oh, baby, you keep doing that I’m not gonna last much longer.” He finally sputtered out, trying to keep himself composed.

You glanced up and finally popped his soaked cock from between your lips. You hurriedly pulled your panties down your legs and took your previous position on top of him.

“Do you need a condom? I’m on the pill and I’m clean but if you,” you said, scanning his face.

He ran his hands down your back, “I’m clean too so as long as you’re comfortable.”

You nodded quickly, kissing him to assure him of your consent and then raised yourself up. His hand slid between the two of you to guide his cock into your wet entrance. You felt it line up and started to slowly ease down onto it. The stretch both burned and excited you.

His mouth fell open and his head fell back against the couch, “Fuck – baby you feel so good.”

You smirked at him and groaned when you finally had sunk entirely onto him. He quickly encapsuled your lips in his and squeezed your ass with his hands. You took that as a hint to start moving, so you slowly rocked up and down, rubbing your clit on his hair above his cock. He steadied you as you quickly lost your resolve again, head spinning and becoming more and more heavy as the feeling in your gut grew again. You suddenly felt it happen again as your orgasm crashes into you, squeezing him so tight he moaned and rested his head against yours as he tried to pump your seized body through the feeling. You slowed and looked deep in his eyes, he was truly so handsome, and sweet and fuck was he good at this. You felt something in your chest, a warm feeling that you hadn’t felt in years. You liked this man so much, holy fuck did you like this man. You wanted to spend all your time with him, you wanted to learn everything about him, and learn each and every part of his body.

You were snapped out of your lucid trance when you felt him buck into you, chasing his own high. You braced yourself by holding onto his neck as he rocked further into you. He bit his lip and held your hips so tight it might bruise. He came to a slow stop when his orgasm hit and he pushed into you one last time, coating your walls.

The last thing you were expecting was for his cock to swell so much in it’s release that the sudden change in stretch would barrel you into a third orgasm. You squeezed him tight, and he moaned as your bodies slowly fell into one another and stilled. He breathed deeply into your neck as you ran your hand on his chest.

Through stuttered breaths he said, “You know, I’m really starting to like this whole karma concept.”

Snickering you pulled your head up and matched his gaze. He too looked like his brain was spinning, trying to analyze everything that just happened and everything that he felt for you.

Pulling yourself off him, you quickly found your underwear and retreated to your room, excusing yourself.

By the time you had cleaned up and thrown on a loose band shirt and sleep shorts, he was dressed again and had taken it upon himself to fill a glass of water for each of you. You liked the way he looked in your kitchen, so domestic and loving. You graciously accepted the water and walked back to the couch with shaky knees, he followed you sitting on the couch and putting his arm around you as you both sipped from your drinks.

Frankie put his glass on the painted black wood coffee table, “So, rock star, what do you typically do on your nights off to relax?”

You hummed, “Well, I don’t know if it’s your thing but I’m rewatching one of my favourite shows right now if you’d like to stick around for a while?”

He smiled back at you, “Oh yeah, what is it?”

“Buffy the vampire slayer.” You looked to him, worried he may be turned off by your choice in television, you pegged him more for a sports or war show guy.

Thankfully, he was nothing like you thought he was going to be. “Buffy really? Fuck I love that show, watched it when it came out.”

“Really?” You gapped, “Well then, we’re definitely watching it. I watch it every year at least once.” You reached for the remote on the coffee table and started queuing it up.

“What’s your favourite episode?” He asked.

You looked up, trying to figure out your answer, “Oh man, that’s hard. I really like the majority of the episodes in the first season to be honest. That season is by far my favourite. How bout you, any episode in particular?”

“Oh yeah that’s easy, season four, episode one. Best episode in the series for me, it’s a classic. Great guest actors.” he says confidently.

You looked to him, taken aback by the fact that he even knew episode numbers, “Really?” you ask, “Well I guess I know which one we’re gonna watch right now.” You scrolled through the series and selected the episode he requested.

Both of you fell into each other and snuggled on the couch, watching the show and talking about anything that came to mind. It felt so easy you thought, and maybe that’s okay. Love is supposed to be easy after all. It will take time to accept that, but if Frankie continues to be the man you think he is, you’ll be falling endlessly for him.

It will be easier than singing on stage, it will make you forget about your troubles more than the sting of a tattoo needle, and soon enough, he’ll make you forget all about karma because he’ll bring nothing but good into your life.

#frankie morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales smut

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echo-goes-mmm · 6 months

Text

Ambrose and Elliot #29

Masterpost

Warnings: implied past non-con

Elliot tucked another shirt into his bag. Master Ambrose had told him to pack enough for two days, but Elliot added an extra set of clothes just in case.

He hefted the luggage bag off his bed; and truthfully it wasn’t that heavy. Months ago he would have struggled with it, but not now.

He glanced out his window, down at Ambrose hitching the horse to the cart.

It wasn’t Ambrose’s horse; instead borrowed from Mr. Michael Tallow (who owned a wheat farm).

Ambrose looked to be nearly finished, which meant it was time to go.

Elliot picked up his coin-pouch. Ambrose had said he should make a bank account to keep his money safe, and Elliot wasn’t going to argue.

It was cold out, but the snow on the ground was gone. Instead, icy mud made the ground soft and wet. His boots made the mud squelch with every step.

Mr. Tallow’s horse looked at him with big brown eyes as he approached, and Elliot avoided the animal to put his bag in the cart.

Elliot didn’t know much about horses; just that they were big and kind of scary.

“Elliot, this is Billy,” said Ambrose, petting the horse’s face. “She’ll be taking us to Sunside, and then to Lakeview.”

Billy snorted suddenly, and Elliot flinched.

“Technically her name is Willamina, but I like Billy for short. What do you think?”

“It’s nice.”

Ambrose must have sensed his discomfort. “She’s really gentle, if you want to pet her,” he said, voice soft and calm.

Elliot liked it when Master’s voice went all gentle and steady, like Elliot was a cat and Ambrose was coaxing him.

He might find it condescending, if he were a person. Like in the Before Time.

But it was Ambrose, and he loved Elliot. Even though he wasn’t really a person anymore. There was only kindness in his voice, not derision.

“Okay,” he said. Elliot stepped around the cart to Billy, and she flicked her ears.

He hesitated.

Ambrose gently took his hand and guided him to Billy’s neck.

Her brown coat was rough, and dirty, and very warm.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

___________________

The weather was chilly, but Elliot’s winter clothes kept him safe. He worried about Billy for a while, until Ambrose told him she would be warm from pulling the cart, and her breed was hardy.

Still, he was glad to see the looming white mountains brimming with snow pass further and further behind them.

They ate a packed lunch on the way; sandwiches and a mix of dried fruit and nuts.

The sun came out behind the clouds after a few hours, and Elliot enjoyed the fresh air and sunshine on his face.

Ambrose showed him how to steer, and handed the reins to him. He only managed it for a few minutes before he got too jittery, but Ambrose seemed pleased that he tried.

___________________

It was evening when they got to the inn. It wasn’t one he recognized, but he still shook when they pulled up to the attached stable.

Ambrose and the stablehand talked as Elliot grabbed the luggage.

“Oh, thanks,” said Ambrose as Elliot handed him his bag.

Elliot didn’t say anything, trailing behind Master on the way inside.

The inn was busy, which helped soothe his anxiety. A busy innkeeper wouldn't have the time to be cruel.

“Name?” asked the woman at the stand.

“Ambrose, one night, please.”

She nodded, jotting it down. “Double bed, or two singles?”

“Two singles.”

She turned around and took two keys off a hook labeled, ‘six’.

“Here you go,” she said, “room six is on the second floor, and the bar and dining room is that way.”

“Thanks.”

Ambrose handed Elliot one of the keys.

They headed upstairs, and Elliot picked the bed furthest from the door.

“I’m going downstairs to get a drink and some dinner,” said Ambrose. “Do you want to come?”

Elliot shook his head.

“Alright. I could have someone send a plate up for you; is that okay?”

“Oh, um, sure. Thank you.”

Ambrose smiled, and ruffled his hair on his way out. “Of course, sweetheart.”

___________________

Ambrose settled down at the bar. It had been a while since he’d gone out, and he was looking forward to a drink.

“Daiquiri, please.”

The bartender made it quickly, and Ambrose tipped him well as a thank you.

He took his time with his meal, and made sure one was sent up to Ellie.

Ambrose hoped Elliot was alright. He always hoped he was alright.

A woman slid into the seat next him, tall with dark hair.

“Hi,” she said, “far from home?”

“In a way,” he replied, nearing a smile. “How about you?”

“Definitely. Hey, can I buy you a drink?” she asked, tapping the bar next to his almost-empty glass. “I’m Amy, by the way.”

“Ambrose. I’m really flattered, but I’m married.”

“I don’t see a ring,” she smiled. “Are you sure?”

“I left it at home,” he said truthfully, side-stepping the fact he hadn’t worn his ring in decades. “Can’t be too careful on the road.”

“Mm,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “I see.”

“I don’t think my husband would appreciate infidelity, and considering my assistant and I are sharing a room for a business trip, I’ll really have to pass.”

“Ah, well,” she sighed, “maybe the lady in the corner booth is single.”

Ambrose glanced over at the booth. A redheaded woman sat alone, sipping on a pint.

“I wish you luck, Amy,” he toasted her, with the remains of his daiquiri. He finished his glass, and ordered another as Amy left the bar.

___________________

He swayed upstairs into the room. Ambrose unlocked it in a smooth motion, which told him he wasn’t as tipsy as he felt.

Curse being a lightweight.

He could see the outline of Elliot on his bed, bathed in the moonlight of the window.

“Are you drunk?” asked Ellie, quiet as a mouse.

“No, love. Just tipsy.” His brain was running a little slow, but it caught up to Elliot’s quickly enough.

“I’m not gonna touch you,” he said, sitting on his own assigned bed. He began to toe off his shoes.

“Okay,” said Elliot, and something was wrong.

Something was always wrong, but Ambrose didn’t mind.

Well, he hated that Elliot was suffering, but Elliot was his closest friend, and Ambrose would do anything for him.

“Have you been scared up in the room this whole time, sweetheart?”

“...no,” he said, “Just when you came in.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Elliot huddled smaller on the bed, but didn’t say anything.

Ambrose couldn’t see his face in the dark, but he knew what Elliot looked like when he was scared.

“Could… could I ask why you’re scared of me here, instead of at home?” He didn’t understand why Elliot was so frightened. They shared a bed at home, sometimes, what made sharing a room for a night scarier?

Elliot turned, and Ambrose could see part of his face in the moonbeams.

“I’ve done a lot of things in inns,” he said, shame in his voice. “For food. And sleep. It wasn’t… nice things.”

“People hurt you, and you let them because otherwise you would starve,” Ambrose guessed, and Elliot flinched, burrowing his face into his knees.

“Yeah,” he said, choked up.

“That’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. It’s their fault for hurting you. They didn’t need to do that. They could have just helped.”

“I dunno.”

Ambrose swallowed thickly. He wasn’t sober enough for this conversation, but he’d do his best.

“Well. I know it isn’t your fault. Can that be enough, for now?”

“Mm,” sniffed Elliot. “I- I think s-so.”

Ambrose hesitated. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No, no, I- could you stay over there? Please? I don’t… I don’t think I want to- to be touched.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll be here, if you need me.”

“...maybe just a hug?”

Ambrose slowly walked over, as not to spook him, and Elliot wrapped his arms around him.

Ambrose gave him a tight squeeze, and Elliot let out a shuddering breath.

“Thank you,” said Ellie, pressing into him. “For not… for not hurting me.”

“Of course, love,” he said, “Of course.”

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda @loserwithsyle

#and we're back!#Willamina “Billy” the horse is a reference to Bill the Pony from LOTR #school has been hard so thats why this took a while #my writing #whump #slavery whump #ambrose and elliot

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bts-hyperfixation · 6 months

Text

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 34 of 35

2785 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

“And he really said he wanted to meet me?” Namjoon asks for the fifth time.

Jungkook is stood by the door to the annexe tying his laces while you brief Namjoon on how to get to the doctor’s office; not that you really need to, Jungkook is perfectly capable of getting the two of them to Dr Treiver’s appointment on time. But Namjoon seemed less than convinced of Jungkook’s progress.

Which is part of the reason dr Treiver had asked for Namjoon to accompany the rabbit to his session rather than you.

“Yes Namjoon, I am certain. Now go before you’re late,” You scold, pushing him towards the foyer.

He holds up his hands in defeat, and Jungkook takes ahold of one, pulling him along so they don’t end up being late.

They disappear around the side gate as you watch them through the still open front door.

You feel a bit put out, your routine broken by not taking Jungkook out for therapy. It’s been about ten weeks now since it began, and you had taken him without fail to each one. It was really slow progress, but there had been definite progress. Jungkook was now able to share a room with the builders without twitching too much AND you were able to go into the ice cream shop last week! Sure you were the only customers, but there were two teenagers behind the register that he only hid from briefly.

“Are you going to stand there until they come back?” Hoseok asks.

He makes you jump as his arm snakes around your shoulder.

“Your feet are really going to start to hurt,” Yoongi says, going around you to close the door.

The older man settles on your other side and places an arm around your waist. They turn you around and bring you over to the large plush sofa in the middle of the room. It’s a great L-shape sofa Jungkook had insisted on so it was big enough for the eight of you to pile together, far more comfortable than the 3-seater you had had in the main house before.

They cage you in between them and Hobi rests his head on your shoulder

“They’ll be okay you know,”Hoseok comforts.

“Of course I know that,” You roll your eyes.

However, the knot in the pit of your stomach doesn’t untie. You lean your head against his and take a deep breath.

“And you made fun of us for being so concerned about Jungkook when we met,” Yoongi chuckles, he strokes your leg comfortingly.

“I didn’t make fun… I just thought it was odd…” You shrug “And I’m more concerned about Namjoon than Jungkook right now,”

“Now that might be a valid concern,” Yoongi agrees.

_______________

Meanwhile Jungkook switches off the engine as he parks outside of the doctor’s office. Namjoon has driven him nuts the entire drive. He is certain the man means well but all he is doing is making the anxiety in Jungkook’s stomach feel like it did on that very first session again. He lets out a low whine as Namjoon asks him for the fifth time if he is really sure about going in to the appointment.

“Oh Bunny, if you really are that stressed out we don’t have to go,”

Namjoon reaches out a hand to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but Jungkook flinches away.

“I’M FINE,” he snaps.

Namjoon looks taken aback. He has never been shouted at by a pack member before now, especially not Jungkook.

“I am okay, Namjoon,” He sighs reacting to the sadness in his leaders eyes, "You are making me more nervous.”

"I'm sorry," Namjoon answers, his voice small.

Jungkook's hands begin to tremble and he longs to lean over and curl into his leader like he always has done, but he knows the minute he does it's like giving in. Instead he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes like the doctor taught him, steadying his nerves on his own. Namjoon sighs and opens the door, letting himself out of the car. Jungkook follows suit a moment later and allows Namjoon to take his hand falling into step beside him. The younger man leads his partner through to the doctor.

“Good afternoon Jungkook, this must be Namjoon,”

The elder gentleman smiles warmly at the pair, extending his hand to Namjoon. Namjoon greets the man, warily taking up the offer of a hand shake. Doctor Treiver nods curtly and motions for them to both sit on the sofa.

Out of instinct, Jungkook sits almost on top of Namjoon before realising and shuffling over to allow for more space. Namjoon can't help but feel a little lost, unsure of what to do with himself if he isn’t comforting Jungkook.

The first half of the session went as could be expected of a therapy session. The doctor focused most of his attention on Jungkook, walking through anything and everything Jungkook was willing to talk about. Today that seemed to consist of renovation plans.

Namjoon rolled his eyes. This is what Seokjin was paying for? Seemed like an absolute waste of money if you asked him... Not that anyone did lately…

Only on his fifth eye roll did he realise the doctor was now watching him instead of Jungkook. The bear looked down at his feet, suddenly finding the hideous carpet pattern to be the most interesting thing on the planet.

"Jungkook, you've done a fantastic job today. I can tell you're really excited about this room painting you and Y/N have been doing and I do want to talk more about it," Doctor Treiver says, then he turns to Namjoon, “However I was hoping we could talk to Namjoon and you together today, would that be okay?”

Jungkook and the doctor both turn to Namjoon expectantly.

Namjoon won't meet the doctor's eyes despite the clear invitation to speak. He hadn't considered he would be the one in the hot seat, prepared to observe, not participate.

“Okay, let’s try this slowly. Jungkook are you comfortable with me talking to Namjoon about things we have discussed in past sessions? Please understand you can say no,” Treiver says gently.

“Namjoon knows everything about me, doctor, you can talk about whatever you need.” The bunny confirms.

Namjoon prepares himself to be psychoanalysed by this almost complete stranger, thinking somehow this man was going to blame him for every single one of Jungkook’s problems, reaffirming what Namjoon already thought about himself. He braced himself to hear all of his worst thoughts realised by a professional, to hear how he wasn’t fit to have one mate let alone be the leader of such a large pack.

But the negativity never came. In fact, it seemed that while Namjoon had been spiralling inside his own head, the doctor had been commending him for how he had handled Jungkook so far.

“Jungkook’s condition goes back a very long time from what I can see. I think it is a credit to you and your family that he is able to function outside of his birth family unit at all”

The doctor went on to talk about how Jungkook had confided in him about his fear that he had only gotten worse since moving in with Namjoon, no longer able to be independent at all. This made Namjoon cringe until the doctor continued. The elder man explained how this was much more likely to be a response to the new sensation of safety that Jungkook was experiencing, he was finally comfortable enough to shut down and protect himself in the way prey animals typically want to, hiding from the perceived threat of the world outside his burrow, his home.

It was a lot of information to take in. Ever since Jungkook had started therapy, Namjoon had been terrified he would be blamed, that they would find out he wasn’t able to support the people he loved. It hurt to find out that Jungkook had been concerned about his worsening state and hadn’t been able to voice it, but at the same time Namjoon hadn’t brought it up to him either, his fear that Jungkook would want to leave consuming him. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a little reassuring to hear the doctor blame Jungkook’s father instead.

The bear rests his hand on Jungkook’s leg and squeezes reassuringly, more to ground himself than his mate. He isn’t sure he truly understands what this therapy is going to do for Jungkook in the long run, and in the short term, it’s just hurting his head. But he is happy that Jungkook has someone outside of the pack to trust.

The doctor glances up at the clock and Namjoon’s gaze follows, only five minutes remain in the session.

“Jungkook would you be comfortable enough to sit in the waiting room on your own for the remainder of the session? Ms. Harris, my assistant is right behind the desk for you, and you can come immediately back inside here if it is too overwhelming for you?” Dr Triever asks carefully.

Jungkook’s eyes go wide and Namjoon can see the immediate rise in his hackles as his panic response begins to activate. Jungkook’s hand finds Namjoon’s and squeezes tightly before the bear has a chance to react. Instinctually he pulls Jungkook into his lap and holds him close, whispering gently into his ears reminding him to breathe.

“I’ll take that as a no…” The doctor tilts his head observing. “That’s okay, a little too soon for public spaces I see, not a problem, you can stay right here,”

He makes a note on his paper as Jungkook carefully unfurls himself from Namjoon’s arms, revealing his tear-stained cheeks to the room.

“Would it be possible for me to see you alone another time Namjoon? I would also like to discuss the tension you yourself show around Jungkook as his primary support system”

“What do you mean the tension I show!?” Namjoon asks, a little sharply.

“That tension Mr. Kim” The doctor states, returning to honorifics in response to the change in tone.

Namjoon looks a little ashamed of himself for snapping at the man, immediately aware of the way his demeanour changes when Jungkook’s scent sours.

“Right doctor, of course… Do you have any appointments later this week?” He has zero interest in having his brain examined by a shrink, but he would do anything for Jungkook, or anyone in his home.

“You can arrange with my assistant on your way out. Thank you so much for coming on request Namjoon. Jungkook, I look forward to seeing you next time” The doctor opens the door and ushers the pair back into the waiting room.

___________________

You and Yoongi had just finished showering when Namjoon and Jungkook returned. You had managed to find more than a few ways to keep your mind from wandering to how their joint session might’ve been going. Hoseok had regretfully had to go in for the early shift at the karaoke place, although the two of you had tried very hard to make him call in sick to keep you company. That man had an iron resolve, any other member of your pack would’ve folded the instant your shirt left your body.

Both men were stood before you in one piece, and with no police escort, which meant the session must’ve gone much better than you had given them credit for. Yoongi had money on Namjoon insulting the doctor in some way that would result in a restraining order; and while you had a little more faith, the issue of Namjoon’s ego and temper had made you a little nervous of the potential outcome.

Still, the pair didn’t seem overly eager to share what had actually happened within the meeting, only sharing that Namjoon would be returning on his own later in the week. So instead of talking about it, you got comfy on the sofa and waited for your other lovers to return to you.

By nine pm, Taehyung still wasn’t home. This had become the norm in recent weeks, but it didn’t make you any less sad. He claimed his family were just being needy at the moment and promised it would finish soon and he'd be home more, but each time he said that, he seemed less and less convinced by his own words.

The house was at a loss without him too. You'd all been together for such a short time, but one person missing felt long a limb had been detached. Lately, Taehyung wasn't even bothering to join any of you in bed, if he came home at all. You'd all wake up to find him sleeping on the sofa cuddling a pillow, still fully dressed from the day before. Jimin was furious with him, he'd given him the silent treatment for about an hour before he caved. Taehyung had seemed far too sad to stay mad at him.

After yet another night of watching Jungkook and Jimin mope, while the others were just restless, you decide enough is enough. It's obvious that Taheyung is unhappy with how much his parents are piling on, and it's obvious that no one around here is going to be comfortable until he is back to his normal self. So it's time someone did something about it.

You text Taehyung to make sure he is not on the way home, only to receive 'Sorry babe, probably going to just sleep here' as a response almost immediately.

You feel a little guilty about your next move, but it needs to be done. You check the Find My Phone app and track Taehyung, finding his parents' home address. Grabbing Yoongi's car keys, you tell the others you're heading to the store and then you follow the little green dot all the way to a very large estate.

You chew your lip the entire drive, feeling guilty about lying to the others about where you were going, feeling even guiltier about stalking Taehyung's phone to find him. You contemplate turning off to actually go to the store and leaving Taehyung alone, but you just can't shake the feeling he needs help, and more than anything you just want to see him.

You drive up a dauntingly long driveway and park Yoongi's car next to Taehyung's. The door is equally as imposing with a large golden knocker right in the middle, it reminds you a little of your ex-husband's parents' house, and it really drives home exactly how much money must be behind Taehyung's family. You grab the knocker and bang before your nerves get the better of you, although you find yourself wondering if it's loud enough when no one immediately comes to the door.

You shuffle your feet awkwardly as you wait, it feels like hours until the huge wooden door swings open revealing an ageing gentleman in a suit.

"Good evening Madam, I'm afraid we will not be needing anything you're selling today," He says and moves to shut the door.

"Wait!" You say a little too loud.

The man pauses with the door ajar.

"I'm here to see Taehyung,"

"Master Taehyung did not make us aware of any visitors and he is extremely busy. He is unavailable to be seen."

"Bu... but" You stammer trying to think of a plausible excuse for your random late night appearance.

The older gent just raises an eyebrow as if he is waiting for something entertaining, knowing you have no straws to grasp at.

"He sent me his location and told me to bring him some clothes, they are in the car..."

"Master Taehyung has plenty of clothes here. Now I must ask that you leave now miss, before I have to escalate the situation.

Once again the man moves to shut the door. You sigh and resign yourself to having to give up, turning to make your way back towards the car. It probably wouldn't do to linger too long, families like this have a penchant for calling police on people they deem to be trespassing. You watched your own butler deal with the police far through the crack in your curtain far too often to think the threat would be a bluff.

Dejectedly, you take one last look at the large house. It really was a beautiful build with ivy hanging from trellises scaling the walls. If you had to guess you probably put the house at at least 200 years old. The stonework seemed old but wonderfully maintained and the windows had that slightly warped appearance that only old glass possessed. Observing more closely, you could see a very familiar, but confused, face staring back at you through one of those windows.

Masterlist

Sorry about the disappearing act.... it will probably happen again ngl. Also that 35 chapter thing was complete bull we are going so much further than that I guess....

#bts fic #bts smut #kpop fic #kpop smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #seokjin smut #teahyung smut #jimin smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #hybrid bts #bts hybrids #bunny jungkook

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