#marketing for home inspection business | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cillianmesoftlyyy · 1 month

Text

The Castaway Pt. 1 | Matthew Joy x fem!reader

requested by @tkappi 🖤

Summary: You're running away from Mr. Daws, your adoptive father on Nantucket Island and happen to be saved by a curious sailor. You seek refuge on a whaling vessel in your hopes of making it to the mainland of Massachusetts. The man promises to help you, even if it costs him his job.

Warnings: Hints at possible sexual assault attempts from adoptive father, old-fashioned perspectives on prostitutes, 10-year age gap, mutual trauma.

word count: 4040k

Seventeen- Sjowgren 🎶

“Stop her!” Mr. Daws shouts from the doorway of his store in the overcrowded market. You duck between two men carrying a large basket of oysters, your feet nearly slipping in the deep layer of mud that has only gotten worse in the snowy winter months. Mr. Daws chases you but his rotund belly and smallish legs hinder his pursuit and you manage to put some distance between yourself and the angry fish-marketer.

“Thief! Grab her, by God!” You can hear the anger rising in his voice and notice that more people turn to inspect the scene. Thankfully, no one tries to intervene, they’re too confused by the scene to do anything. To the people of Nantucket, all they see is a young woman, probably 18 or so, in a printed blue dress holding onto her bonnet as she runs down the market lanes. They look for a thief or a criminal and see none, just a girl. You look like the well-off daughter of a merchant or clergyman in your colorful frock and braided blonde hair stuffed into the brown bonnet.

“For thee love of God, grab tha’ girl!” The man tries again to rally the bystanders as he lumbers after you, slipping and sliding in the mud. The passing of a cart cuts him off momentarily but you can still hear his voice calling from a too-close-for-comfort distance. You can’t help but smile as you race down to the docks, clutching a cloth duffle of bread, preserves, and personal belongings- some of which you did sorta steal but from your own home. Mud splatters up the back of your legs, staining your cotton pantletts and underclothes but you daren’t stop and incur the wrath of the fishman.

Your feet scramble in the mud, your boots losing traction. A frightened squeal escapes your throat as you keep running, praying that you make it to the docks and catch a sailboat before the man reaches you. This is not how it was supposed to go. Mr. Daws was not supposed to see you as you snuck out of the fish stall in the market, but he had. Mr. Daws is the man that wishes to marry you, and most shockingly, the man that adopted you a year before from the Nantucket Island Orphanage. He’d treated you well, buying you new frocks, and showering you with kindness until you turned 18… then his true intentions were revealed. He’d only shown you kindness in exchange for your trust. A marriage proposal from the man who by your understanding was your legal father was enough to shatter any trust or affection you held for him. And the things he’d tried to do… you couldn’t stay there any longer. Your only choice is to pay for passage to mainland Massachusetts on one of the many sailboats docked in the harbor.

“Thief!” He screams again and you nearly feel like sobbing because you can’t seem to outrun him in the horrible mud.

“Umph!” The sound of surprise leaves your mouth as you’re jerked to the side by a strong hand. You fall between someone’s arms in the cutaway of an alley and immediately struggle to remove yourself.

“A thief eh?”

You look up. A sailor smiles down at you, his hands still holding your shoulders in place. You look over at the busy market and the man follows your gaze, registering the look of fear in your eyes. Without a word, he pushes you into the shadow of a stall and covers any view of you from the street with his body.

“I hope whatever you stole is worth it,” the man mutters over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the busy market lane.

“I didn’t steal anything… well not really,” you whisper back, your voice dipping as you added the last part.

“I paid for ye!” Is the last thing you hear Mr. Daws scream as he limps right past you and the sailor. The sailor turns and cocks his eyebrow.

“He paid for you?” His tone is quizzical as he looks you up and down. You don’t look like a prostitute. “Aren’t you a little young?”

You look at the man for a moment, still in shock and totally unfazed by the man’s intervention on your behalf. You narrow your eyes, trying to understand what the man means and open your mouth slowly to respond but the sailor shakes his hand dismissively.

“No, no it's alright. That’s not important. Are you alright?” He glances over at the market again, checking to ensure the angry man wasn’t on his way back. You release the breath you were still holding and bury your face in your hands with a groan of relief but it’s still too soon to celebrate. Mr. Daws could be on his way back any minute now and see you. He could realize that you didn’t go down to the docks once the crowds of the market faded before the harbor. Your eyes snap open again and you grab the sailor’s forearms desperately.

“Please, can you help me?” You manage to ask, your heart still racing. The sailor’s brow furrows and he nods with visible concern.

“I can try, what’s happened? If you are a thief I won’t report you…”

Your knees buckle randomly and you collapse. You would have landed in the mud if not for the sailor grabbing beneath your arms and holding you up. He looks around for a place to set you but there is mud all around, so he exhales tightly and supports your body weight.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak in embarrassment and try to stand on your own.

“Never mind that, are you in trouble?”

You nod emphatically and glance over again at the market lane.

“Was that man chasing you?”

You nod emphatically again and nearly begin to sob for a second time. Your gasps of breathlessness make you feel lightheaded and weak. You lick your lips and try to take a steady breath so that you can speak.

“I- I’m running away. I have to get away from Nantucket. I was going to buy passage to the mainland but I’m worried he will see me and make me go back.”

“Go back… where?” The sailor tries to follow but you shake your head.

“I just need to get off this island. I need to get on a ship and go, go anywhere. Can you help me? I have money for the fare.” You reach into your pocket with a shaking hand to withdraw the roll of banknotes you’d stolen from Mr. Daws to pay for a ticket, either legally or under the table.

“Put it away,” the man nods towards your pocket and looks down at his feet as he thinks. You shove the money back into the safe pocket of your skirt and wipe a tear from your eye. Finally the sailor looks back up and nods.

��Can you walk?”

He lets you go for a moment so you can try to stand without assistance. Your legs are weak but the moment of helplessness has passed. You nod.

“Ok, follow me closely and take my coat.” The stranger pulls off his navy blue peacoat and helps you pull it on over your dress. He takes the duffle from you and when you start to protest, he shushes you with a finger to his lips. “Now take off your bonnet and put it in the pocket of your dress. Put on my hat.”

The sailor removes his cap and hands it to you. You tuck your hair beneath the lip.

“Good, now come on,” he grabs your hand and pulls you through the edges of the market towards the dock. His grip is tight and reassuring as you both walk quickly towards the dock.

At the harbor, the air is thick and gray. You can barely see the mass of shipmen working on the docks as they confer with other men. In your strange disguise, you look like a sailor’s wife wishing your husband farewell and indeed, you see wives doing just that as their husbands set off for whaling expeditions or fishing trips.

“There’s a ship here leaving for the mainland…” His sentence is cut off as you both approach the sailing boat. You squeeze his hand and duck behind a wall of water barrels. Quickly, he realizes what you’re doing and joins you.

“He must be telling the captain. Wait here.” The man tells you and steps back onto the busy path of the dock. He approaches Mr. Daws and the captain of the sailboat with a casual jaunt in his step. Mr. Daws turns toward the man and waves his hands about his head in his usual animated fashion. The sailor rubs his chin as he pretends to look interested. He pats Mr. Daws on the back and bows to the captain before walking back down the dock. The men don’t notice as he ducks behind the barrels beside you once again.

“Whoever that man is that you’re running from, he’s forcing the captain to postpone all his trips to the mainland for the next few days. You won’t be able to get on the vessel without being turned in.”

“Oh God!” You exclaim softly and sink down against the barrels, tears spilling down your pink cheeks. The sailor jumps at your tears and holds his hands out helplessly, unsure what to do.

“Oh please don’t cry! Look, I’ll take you aboard my ship. I stay docked for a few days and in that time, you may be able to board the sailing boat. If not, maybe we can drop you off at our next stop.” The man spoke quickly, his ideas coming to him on the spot. You pause your crying to look at him. You don’t even know who this man is, much less trust him to keep you safe aboard a random ship. But this is what you wanted. You wanted to get away from Nantucket in any way that you could.

“What’s your name?” You ask softly, wary to follow the man now that your shock has subsided slightly. The sailor chuckles at your question, his smile lopsided.

“Matthew, but we can introduce ourselves formally on the boat.”

You nod and wait for the sailor named Matthew to give you a sign that it was safe to move. He glances around the wall of barrels and after a few moments, his hand gropes blindly for your back. Pushing you along by your back, Matthew leads you down a dock and to the right where the larger vessels are docked. A ramp has already been set up and when no one is looking, Matthew scoops you up. You gasp, startled and very uncomfortable as he hurries up the ramp.

“Pretend you're a sack of potatoes or something…” Matthew mutters between his teeth and you dejectedly comply. He throws you over his shoulder and beelines for the passage leading below deck. You can tell immediately when Matthew passes through the threshold because the air is stuffy and humid. It smells like stale food and mildew but thankfully, it isn’t unbearable.

“We’re almost there,” he whispers as he turns a corner or two. The hallways are dark, only lit every few feet with a lantern. When he finally stops, he opens a door and steps inside quickly. He sets you down gently on your feet and steps back to give you room. You exhale slowly and look around. It’s a closet of some kind, full of extra rope and canvas for sails.

“You should stay here for a little while, at least until we know if you can catch the sailing boat. Just don’t wander about. This side of the boat isn’t as busy because we use it for storage and for our workshops but it wouldn’t be good to have you walking about…” He clears his throat pointedly and you realize suddenly, that you haven’t really gotten a chance to look at him since he pulled you to safety. His face had completely slipped from your notice all day, as desperate as you were to get away from Mr. Daws.

Matthew has a grayish face in the pale light below deck, and attractive hollow cheeks below prominent cheekbones. He has an impressive scar above his top lip, splitting his pallet down the middle at a diagonal. He is clean shaven but his hair is unkempt and about as long as you would assume for a sailor. His hair is a chestnut color, lightened from months spent beneath the sun at sea. And his eyes! You draw your eyes up to his. You’d never seen eyes quite like his, so dark blue they championed the color of the sea.

“Well,” Matthew clears his throat, trying to fill the period of silence that you didn’t notice, “now that you know my name, I think it’s only fair that I should know yours.” He keeps his back against the door, creating a respectful distance between you. You look down at your hands, for no reason really, though the blush spreading across your face may be one.

“Y/N,” you answer, looking up again. Matthew nods and trails his fingers absent-mindedly down the strap of your duffle bag still slung over his shoulder. He realizes the bag is yours and sets it down. Seeing him do this, you remember that you’re wearing his peacoat and cap. You remove them and hand them back to Matthew with a shy smile. Your body begins to drain of its initial adrenaline as you watch Matthew put his belongings on once again.

“I’ll be back in an hour or two, and when I come back, I’ll bring you some supper. If another man happens to open this door and see you…” Matthew trails off, his eyebrows pulling together. He looks just above your head on the opposite wall, thinking.

“What?” You prompt him, apprehension clear in your small voice.

“I’m trying to think,” he mutters and sighs gravely. “Tell them you’re my sister, blame it on me. It’s better for both of us that way if you’re caught. Besides, you’ll only be hiding here for a few nights at the longest.”

“Just until I can get safe passage on another ship,” you add with a tense exhale. You try to convince yourself that everything will be ok, despite the extremely strange circumstances.

As if he read your mind, Matthew promises you, “Everything will be fine.” You nod thankfully and watch as he ducks out of the room. When the door is closed, you hear keys jingling against the door which tells you the door is being locked. A rush of anxiety takes you and you rush to the door. The door to the closet is locked by the time you turn the doorknob. Your breath catches in your throat and you panic.

Oh God, I’ve been locked in a closet on a ship by a man I don’t know at all. No one knows I’m here besides him and if I draw any attention to myself and someone else comes… Damn it all!

You think and slide down to your knees behind the door. Matthew seemed so kind and trustworthy… but to be fair, so had Mr. Daws after he adopted you. Your stomach turns.

The closet has only one window, a dirty porthole, but no lanterns so save the aura of sunlight streaming in underneath the door, the room was dark. You stare at the face of your watch by resting your wrist beside the gap beneath the door. You’d decided to give Matthew the two hours he said he would need to return before screaming as loud as you can. You’d already watched one hour go by, fearful tears falling from your eyes. You have stopped brushing them away because it was straining a muscle in your neck. You’re fairly convinced that you have just left one horrible situation for another when you hear footsteps approach the door.

You scramble back in time to see the door swing open. The direct light behind Matthew is too aggressive for your eyes, so you blink and shield your face with your palm. You can’t tell if you’re relieved or not to see him.

“You locked me in,” you tell him flatly.

“Yes…” Matthew starts cautiously, hearing the tone in your voice. “My belief was that you would be safest if you were locked in.”

“Don’t please…” you ask softly and Matthew finally sees the tears on your face.

“Oh, child. Don’t cry again! I shouldn’t have locked you in. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m one of the only men on this ship with keys, so I believed this would be the safest arrangement.” Matthew closes the door quickly and crouches down to your level. “Are you alright?” He asks softly and sets down a canteen by your knees.

You wipe your stale tears and wipe your nose on your sleeve. When you nod, Matthew sighs in relief and pushes the canteen closer to you.

“Supper,” he opens the lid. You take the warm receptacle and drink the watery broth. “Now that we know each other’s names, will you tell me why you’re running away?” Matthew tries, his eyes watching your carefully for more tears.

“It’s a long story,” you murmur after you swallow some of the broth. Matthew twists his mouth to the side and sits down on a pile of coiled rope, exhaling loudly.

“We have a few days,” he shrugs and clasps his hands together.

“Right…” you concede and regard the man carefully, still wary.

“Why are you running away from home?” Matthew asks again, not harshly, but his tone is strained with fading patience. He’s risking a lot to hide you aboard, a young girl (and probable prostitute) he doesn’t even know. “If you don’t tell me, I’m likely to remove you from this ship.”

You shake your head wildly and stop him from continuing with an outstretched hand.

“No, please… I’m just not sure where to begin.”

Matthew nods and leans back against the wall, listening intently.

“Um well the man that I was running from is my father, though only legally. He adopted me a year ago.”

Matthew raises a quizzical brow but doesn’t interrupt.

“When I turned 18, just a few months ago, he tried to change the um nature of our relationship.”

“To what?” He leans forward.

“He wanted to marry me.”

“Oh…” Matthew grimaces and scrunches up his nose in disgust.

“When I refused his first offer, he kept asking but more and more forcibly…” You wring your hands uncomfortably.

“Did he try to take you?” Matthew asks without thinking of his audience. You narrow your eyes, confused again by his choice of language for everything.

I’m not sure…” you try to answer, not having understood his question to begin with.

“You’re not sure?” Matthew looks pointedly puzzled for a moment before exclaiming and rubbing his hand over his face. “So, I assume that means you aren’t a prostitute?” Matthew crosses his arms across his chest and cocks his head to the side.

“What?” You gasp in surprise, knowing what that word means.

“I just assumed when your, eh, father said he ‘paid’ for you,” Matthew shrugs apologetically.

“No!” you lower your voice, “I am not a bad woman. Mr. Daws had to pay the orphanage a certain amount to adopt me. He feels like he owns me now because of it.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. Sailors happen to have a lot of respect for prostitutes.” When Matthew sees your mortified face he sighs again and shifts uncomfortably on the coil of rope. “Forgive me, I’m not used to speaking with young women. We don’t interact with many of you,” Matthew chuckles beside himself and gestures to you.

“But tell me,” he turns serious again, “what do you plan to do when you get to the mainland?”

You shrug honestly, “I’m not sure. I was going to find a family to take me in and work as a maid.”

“You’d do better as a prostitute,” he mutters beneath his breath, then at a normal volume, “Boston would be the place to go. They have wealthier families there. I don’t know how easy it will be to find a job as a maid, especially without references which I assume you don’t have.”

“I’ll do whatever work I can find,” you assure him quickly but then pause and add, “within reason.”

“Ah,” Matthew chuckles at you softly and crosses his arms over his chest again.

“And who are you?” You drink from your canteen as Matthew looks up at the ceiling.

“Well, I’m a whaler. I’m First-Mate on this ship, The Essex,” he turns his gaze to the side, leaning forward, as he tries to recall anything else to say.

“How long have you been a whaler?”

Matthew chuckles again and shakes his head, “A long time.” He meets your gaze with a sheepish smile, “Probably for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“I’m 18,” you say though Matthew had already gathered that from your last story. The truth still shocks him.

“You’re no more than a child,” he shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand through his messy hair. As you watch him, you realize how old he could possibly be. He must be at least 30, you decide.

“Did you go to school?” You change the subject after a period of silence. Matthew raises an intrigued eyebrow at you and nods.

“Yeah, yeah I did. How could you tell?”

“The way you talk… and your grammar,” you stammer, not realizing how intrusive the observation had been.

“Hmmm,” he nods thoughtfully and scratches his chin. Did you go to school?”

“Some, the orphanage had a good schoolmaster. He was from Boston.”

“Must have been a pretty fancy orphanage,” Matthew laughs softly and clears his throat.

“Are you married?” You break the silence again and Matthew’s eyes shoot up to yours. He swallows tightly and you can tell you’ve stumbled upon a sensitive topic.

“I was,” he answers simply. You look down at the canteen in your hands, ashamed that you asked such a personal question of someone you don’t know.

“Smallpox,” Matthew whispers and you look up in shock.

“My parents too.”

You stare at each other in silence, save the muffled sound of waves hitting the side of the boat facing the harbor.

“Horrible disease. I hear that you go fairly quickly… I wasn’t there.” He moves as he tells you, hiding his emotion with his hands.

“I was there when my parents died but I have no memory of them, not even their faces.”

“How did you know how they died?” Matthew runs his hand over his mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, an image of the communal grave on Nantucket Island springing into your mind.

“The island kept track of everyone who died from the Pox. My parents’ names are on the list.”

“How old were you?” He continues to ask. You furrow your brow, trying to remember.

“Just a baby, no more than three years old.” You sigh and look back up at Matthew. “What was your wife’s name?”

Matthew frowns when the conversation is turned back onto him. His face darkens and he exhales, not liking to talk about her.

“Abigail.”

You can hear the change in his tone and finish the broth instead of asking anymore questions. Matthew watches you drink the broth silently. When you finish, he takes the canteen and stands.

“I’ll go now, and I won’t lock the door this time.”

“Thank you for- for everything that you’ve done for me today. I owe you.” You stand as he had and clasp your hands together against your apron shyly.

“You're welcome child,” Matthew smiles with closed, full lips. “I’ll come back in the morning after I see about any ships sailing to the mainland. Goodnight.”

He leaves quickly, before you can say goodnight back. Once behind a closed door by yourself, you realize how dark the room had become. The sun is setting and you can just barely see it through the dirty porthole.

xxx

56 notes · View notes

mochatsin · 1 year

Text

MC GIVING GIFTS FOR THE BROTHERS

You’ve been racking up quite a ton of grimm with all the part time jobs you’ve worked in. You decided maybe you can go a bit off budget for once and spoil one of the brothers as a token of appreciation.

we stan a self-sufficient MC in this household. Just imagine your MC working in Akuber and other jobs earning that sweet grimm.

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

Lucifer

The seemingly endless amounts of paperwork that Diavolo has been leaving on his desk gave him quite the headache. He dreads going to his office every time, expecting to find another stack of student complaints and reports about his brother’s behavior.

Surprisingly though, he finds a bottle tied with a ribbon on his desk. But when he picked up and read the label, his eyes went wide to see it’s one of the finest brands of Demonus.

He knows his brothers well enough to cross them off the list of people to buy him this. Even if this was a prank from Satan or Belphie, the price tag is way too expensive for the both of them to even consider this. Perhaps it's the young prince then?

After closer inspection, he does find a small card for him and he immediately knows it's from you. ‘I bought this bottle for you since you’ve been working so hard. Take a break okay? — MC’

It’s the little sheep doodle at the end of the card that made him chuckle. It’s adorable, he thought to himself. He smiles before taking out his D.D.D. to call you.

“I found the bottle you left at my desk earlier today MC. You know you didn’t have to get me something so grand. I know buying this wasn’t easy.”

You explain that you bought it as thanks for all the times he got you out of the trouble the brothers would drag you in, and for making your stay in Devildom as comfortable as he can provide.

It’s not often he receives a token of gratitude from anyone in the house. For someone to be grateful for all the work he’s done, especially when it’s coming from you, he’s touched and speechless at the gesture.

You’ve been waiting for what seems to be a solid minute of pure silence. “Lucifer? Are you still there?” You asked, before you heard a light laugh from the other end.

“Well… enjoying this bottle all by myself seems rather lonesome don’t you think? After work, come to my room. Let’s have a drink together, just the two of us.”

Mammon

The poor guy has been trying to rack up all the grimm he can get but it’s as if lady luck decides to turn a blind eye. The stock market dropped today and now Lucifer confiscated Goldi because of his failing marks in class.

He’s been pretty much sulking all day. You try to cheer him up by hyping him for his next modeling gig. At least by then he’ll get some spending money right? But it doesn’t feel so comforting when you’re saying that over chat.

You’ve been busy getting some work done in your part time jobs, which means he gets to have less time with you. Making him extra sulky. You promised to drop by his room to give him a small treat once you get home, so at least that might lift his spirits.

He was expecting maybe a free snack, since you work in Akuber after all. What he did not expect was finding you on his doorstep with a paper bag labeled ‘Evil Devitton’ and no way did you actually go there?

He remembered the other day that he was complaining about how didn’t have any cash when the brand released a new watch. You have a little extra grimm to at least buy him this, but this is for all the times he’s helped you in Devildom (and kept you alive) since you’re ‘his first.’

You watched him stumble on his words and stutter, trying to think of what to say.

“T-THE GREAT MAMMON ACCEPTS YOUR TRIBUTE!” He tries to act all cool about it. You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms. So he grumbles before letting out a soft “thank you” which makes you smile.

You scold him though every time he’d ask for treats or gifts, since he seems to be forgetting that the watch came from all your extra hard work. You don’t want to keep enabling his bad habits after all.

But you know that he cherishes your gifts. You found him flaunting the watch you gave him on one of his photoshoots from his latest magazine gig.

Levi

He’s been trying his hand at this market raffle. First prize gets a limited raffle-exclusive figurine of one of his favorite characters from this new series, a sales tactic to make people buy the store’s products for one entry.

Last you’ve heard from Levi, his luck (and his allowance) ran out from buying all he can for entry tickets, only to draw the wrong prizes.

He’s even begged for the brothers to buy from the store for a ticket or lend him some money so he can try again. A behavior that’s modeling his older brother. This catches Lucifer’s attention and he makes Levi put a stop to his shenanigans or he’ll do something about his Akuzon account.

Levi has been ranting to your chat while you were out finishing your shift. On the way home you decided to try your luck from that market raffle and behold, you won the first prize item. You know this means more to Levi so you went straight to his door.

The moment he opened, he immediately complained to you when it was announced that someone won the first prize raffle. “It’s just unfair! What if it was just some normie who won it?! Or someone unfamiliar with the franchise?! They’re never gonna appreciate the figurine!!”

When you finally showed him that you won the figurine, he would be excited (and jealous of your luck) because even if it’s not his, at least he gets to admire the figurine in your room.

He only stopped talking when you were handing it over to him, saying that he should keep it since he wants it more than you do. Eyes? Wide open. Jaw? Dropped.

“EH?! WHY WOULD YOU GIVE ME SOMETHING SO PRECIOUS?! I'M JUST A USELESS OTAKU AND-“ he would go on but you insisted.

It’s thanks for introducing you to some of your shows that became your favorites, as well as being your gaming buddy.

Levi.exe has stopped working.

The next day, you find the figurine you gave him on the best spot on his shelf collection.

Satan

Whenever you two would visit the library, he would always borrow the same book about magical spells. It covers 400 years worth of knowledge, so it was so thick that he can’t finish it in one sitting like he normally does.

He expressed that he wished he could add that book to his ever growing collection in his room, but he can’t exactly afford the cost for the book. Not to mention that he’s way too busy with other important affairs (feeding cats) to try to earn for it.

He went home late since there was a lot of work to be done at the council, and the dead hours of night won’t ever stop him from going to his usual spot to play with the stray cats.

He walks back up to his room only to find a big book resting on the foot of his door. Even a few feet away, he recognized the leather with gold imprinted designs and rushed towards it.

He can’t believe the book of magical spells was at his door! How did it even get here? He sends a message to the House of Lamentation group chat to ask.

Satan: Someone left the Index of Magical Spells at my door. Do any of you know who did?

Asmo: ohhh is that what MC has been carrying? Watching them lift that heavy book made me feel tired myself.

Finally getting his answer, he goes straight to your room with the book in hand. You were in the middle of writing your essay for class when he barged in.

“MC! I’ve heard from Asmo, but did you really buy this for me? This must’ve been so expensive! Not to mention really heavy…”

You explained that since you work part-time often, you’ve saved enough extra money to buy him a small thank you gift for helping you with your homework and pass your tests. It means a lot as a transfer student with little to no knowledge about this world.

“You didn’t really have to, your company is quite the treat itself. But I appreciate this. How about I help you with your essay? After that, maybe we can find some spells here that we can learn together.”

Asmo

As an Avatar of Lust who gets gifts from fans, he’s often showered with a lot of luxury brands and products. There’s not much you can actually get him when he seems to have everything he could ever want in Devildom.

You asked permission from Lord Diavolo to grab a few things up in the human world to bring to the House of Lamentation to make your room feel like home.

When you got back, Asmo was curious to see what you brought with you, so you allowed him to see what you have in your room.

You have your stuffed toy, your own blankets, some more of your casual clothes (that he’d love to mix and match on you soon), and so much more personal belongings but what got him curious is that small bag you have on your desk.

It’s a little kit with your own skincare products and personal perfume in a small container to bring along. He insists on having a whiff of your perfume and to your surprise, he loves it!

“I can’t believe it! They don’t have these kinds of scents here at Devildom! It’s probably because we don’t have the same ingredients. Ohh I'm so jealous of you right now dear! Maybe one day I can get one of my own!”

You just so happen to bring the actual bottle of perfume with you, so you dug up your luggage and offered to give him the perfume. The bottle has a very intricate design, since the brand was considered fancy in your world.

At first he was speechless, and you explained that you appreciate the moments he took care of your skin as well as the times he’d help dress you up for any important occasion (since you didn’t have much of a wardrobe when you moved in).

He’ll squeal in delight before giving you the biggest hug “DARLING! You have no idea how much this means to me!!!”

He’d brag to his brothers about receiving a gift from the human world by his beloved MC. Lucifer had to stop them when they also wanted to ask for gifts from you as well, saving you from the brothers trying to raid your room.

Beel

Beel has been studying hard lately since his grades haven’t been doing so well. Compared to Mammon’s, he’d say his grades are fine but if he doesn’t do better in his next test then Lucifer isn’t gonna lift the curse on the fridge that’s preventing him from getting his midnight snacks.

It’s difficult for him when his hunger preoccupies his mind way too often to focus. Sometimes he’d eat his homework when he can’t handle it anymore, and that’s not a good excuse against Lucifer.

There was a soft knock on his door and when he opened it, he found you holding two big bag of chips in your arms. They were so massive he barely saw your head when you carried it.

You told him that while you were out, you managed to buy a couple bags of chips, cheese puffs, and sweets that you stored in your room. You offered to sneak him a couple snacks for him, as long as he promises not to tell Lucifer about your secret stash.

“MC, you’re an absolute lifesaver right now” he says as he grabs a bag and starts snacking down on it. It was gone in 5 minutes, but it helped bring him back to focus.

You ask if he needs any help but he tries to refuse “you’ve already done so much for me though MC… you don’t have to teach me”

You insisted. Beel was the one who helped introduce you to some Devildom dishes that were safe for humans to consume, and he’s the one that reminds you to eat if you ever forget. Helping him by giving him your snacks is a small token of your appreciation.

For a few nights, Beel would chat if you’re free and you’d go visit his room with a few snacks while you help him go over the lessons.

With your help, he did a lot better at his tests much to Lucifer’s surprise.

Belphie

Belphie was beyond angry right now. He was trying to take a nap in the garden, and he found a perfect spot to remain undisturbed.

Mammon, under Lucifer’s punishment, was in charge of gardening duty. He didn’t know about his baby brother sleeping in the bushes when he turned on the sprinklers. Now Belphie was awake, drenched, and furious.

His favorite cow pillow had to be dried out, as well as some of his clothes that got soaked.

You heard about everything through Beel, he was worried about Belphie not getting enough sleep because he lost his pillow and has nothing to cuddle with. So when you got home, you made a quick stop at this nearby shop to buy him a little present.

Belphie was struggling to get some proper shut eye, not after Mammon ruined his afternoon nap and getting scolded by Lucifer when they ended up fighting and ruined the garden.

He felt something soft press against him and when he fluttered his eyes, he saw that you were holding this big cow stuffed toy with you.

You apologized for waking him. He asks what that’s for and you explain that heard what happened to his pillow. Beel told you about how much he wanted it, so you went ahead and got it for him.

It was your gift, since Belphie was always the one to remind you to rest. He would be the first to see the signs that you haven’t been getting enough sleep, so he would always remind you or even nap with you.

He has this soft smile on his face when he hugs the stuffed toy. It was so soft, just as he imagined it would be when he first saw it on display.

“MC… thanks. I hope that I’ll get to dream of you while hugging this… actually, come here. Let’s take a nap together, you’ve been working so hard lately. You need to rest.”

Belphie was able to peacefully sleep with the cow stuffed toy in his arms, resting with a smile on his face.

------------ OKAY THE COINCIDENCE??? IT’S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE BC as I was writing this I was actually stumped on what MC can give Mammon THEN I GET A CHAT ABOUT THE WATCH THAT HE WANTS!?!?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

390 notes · View notes

kaciidubs · 9 months

Text

Mr. & Mrs. Gingerbread | 8 Days of SKZcember 2023

Prompt: putting a gingerbread house together

❣ Summary: The perfect ginger house for the perfect ginger family. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 875 ❣ Warnings: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Felix and Reader are really passionate about their gingerbread people ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Felix is referred to as Lix[ie], and Mr. Gingerbread, Reader is referred to as Sunshine, and Mrs. Gingerbread ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ SKZcember 2023

“Are you sure you don’t wanna make the gingerbread house from scratch?”

You had to fight yourself from falling for those pleading brown eyes, knowing full and well that there was already half an hour left on the three hour chill time for the gingerbread dough he previously made, and if he made another batch you wouldn’t be making the house until it was well into the evening.

“Lixie, honey, you’re already making the gingerbread people from scratch - we can cheat and use the premade cookie house again, okay?” Sliding the unopened box on the kitchen island, you drummed lightly on the cardboard, “Besides, we already bought extra candy and icing so we don’t have to use the, quote, ‘cheap icing and stale candy with no true theme’.”

Felix blushed, taking the box from your grasp with a small huff of indignation, “Hey! You agreed with me when we were at the store!”

“I never said you were wrong, now did I?” Pinching his cheek lightly, you busied yourself with taking the extra sweet decorations out of their packaging while he took care of unboxing the project of the afternoon.

With each piece laid out and carefully inspected, operation Gingerbread Builders was a go.

“So, I’m thinking this is Mr. and Mrs. Gingerbread’s first time in the housing market, so we have to make this an extra special house for them.”

“Mhm - They need a house that’ll stand out from all the rest, they wanna make a statement in this neighborhood.”

“As they should, it’s deserved!”

A natural silence fell over you both as you each worked on your respective parts of the house; you with the back and left wall, Felix with the front and right wall, saving the roof for the final piece to put together.

“Who do you think has more say in the design of the house?” Felix mused as he cut pieces of gummy candy into small squares.

“Mr. Gingerbread for sure, he went to school for Gingerbread Home Design, with a minor in theater.”

“Figures, Mrs. Gingerbread went for Ginger-Fashion in Uni, and we all know fashion prowess doesn’t translate to houses well.”

“Then it’s a good thing they met through the theater club, isn’t it?”

Giggling at your fictional gingerbread lore, you both continued decorating the house in colorful candies and icing accents; the soft background music of a carefully curated winter themed Animal Crossing playlist playing to fill in the peaceful atmosphere.

With some blatantly obvious sneaking of candy here, and playful marking of icing on hands there, the walls of the home were finished and it was time to put them together.

You dutifully lined the edges of the gingerbread panels with the thick icing provided from the box, sticking them together carefully before repeating the process with the other sides until both walls, and the front and back of the house were in place.

“Do you think they’re a weaved panel or classic snow-top type of couple?”

Carefully placing the roofless house onto the icing-layered plastic foundation, you shot him a look, “What does that even mean, Lix?”

“Should the roof be in a lattice design,” he explained, mimicking the lattice design with his hands, “or should we make it look like it’s a snowy roof?”

“Well…” Taking a look at one of the roof pieces, you carefully lined one side of the rooftop, “Mrs. Gingerbread likes the way the snowy roof looks, especially since all of the other houses on the block have some extravagant design - she’s a simple elegant gingerbread.”

Nodding, Felix smiled happily, “Mr. Gingerbread likes that, especially since it leaves more room for a gumdrop design!”

“Oh, Mr. Gingerbread, always the one for showing the beauty in subtlety.” You hummed warmly, sticking one roof panel carefully on top of the icing.

“Mrs. Gingerbread loves him for it.” His tone was just as warm, as sweet as the icing currently sticking to your fingers.

“Yes, she does.”

Sticking the second roof panel on the house, you swapped positions with the freckled blond to let him have creative authority of the soon to be snowy rooftop; watching as the bland gingerbread squares slowly transformed into a beautiful snow-topped roof with a rainbow licorice topping, gumdrops and mini jawbreakers dotted in a beautiful pattern where the ‘snow’ hadn’t reached - with your help, of course.

Just when you thought the decorating was complete, Felix leaned over the house and began using the remaining white icing to create an icicle pattern along the edge of the roof, leaving you to watch in amazement like a child watching toffee being made.

“And… Done!” Standing straight, his cheeks pulled up into his usual sunshine smile, as he gazed at the collaborative masterpiece in front of him, “It looks amazing, doesn't it?!”

Your heart swelled, a smile finding its way onto your own face as you nodded, “It is, you did wonderful, Mr. Gingerbread.”

Turning his head to you, you could see what you could only describe as pure love in his sparkling eyes. “You did wonderful too, Mrs. Gingerbread.”

The sound of the oven alarm beeping broke you from your reverie, though it only made Felix’s smile grow wider than before.

“Wanna clean up and make our ginger-people?”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #lee felix fluff #lee felix x reader #lee yongbok fluff #lee yongbok x reader

134 notes · View notes

avatar-anna · 2 years

Note

Hi I was wondering if you could write something about the fan!reader having a small business and Harry randomly checks out the shop and he immediately thinks she's cute or something? If really appreciate it :)

yes!! i... don't really know how i ended up with this fic, and i'm not sure i like it, so lmk what you think!

part two

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was there again.

You knew who he was, of course, how could you not? Harry Styles was the world’s biggest rockstar, known for his 70s-inspired sound, arms covered in tattoos, and elusive reputation. He was loved by millions, yet no one actually knew him, which you assumed was a part of his allure.

In short, Harry Styles wasn’t the kind of person you thought you would find at a Saturday farmer’s market, yet he was there. Every weekend. You weren’t one of his devoted followers, but as time went by and you saw more and more of him, you began to notice things about him. He dressed impeccably, but in a way that said he didn’t want to be noticed. His painted nails were always in various stages of chipped, which you started to believe he preferred it that way because you never saw him with a new manicure. And from what you could tell, he only ever spoke to the two or three friends he walked around with, so you tried to respect his privacy and not notice him. That didn’t stop other people from coming up to him and asking for a picture, but you let him be.

It was hard to do that when he kept coming to your stall every weekend and left empty-handed, though.

Harry Styles, you discovered, was not only the quiet and brooding type, but apparently, he was also the type of person to inspect every single thing in a store and then not buy anything. Not a single thing. Some days it felt like he inspected every petal and stem just to not buy a single flower, let alone a whole bouquet. And his brows were always furrowed, like the display wasn't up to his standards. You didn't know what kinds of flowers Harry Styles bought, but clearly yours weren't good enough for him.

A real head scratcher because he was at your stall every Saturday.

It made you question your stall sometimes—the way you arranged your flowers, the brown paper and ribbon and twine you wrapped them in; the bunches of lavender and rosemary, and bouquets of roses and daises and carnations and peonies, and all the other sweet-smelling flowers you grew at home and brought to the market every weekend. You couldn’t understand why your flowers weren’t good enough for him. Or why he kept coming back to your stall if they weren't.

Each time he stopped by your stall and didn’t buy anything, you got more and more annoyed, something that didn’t happen often. It got to the point that by the sixth time he walked up to inspect your flowers, you couldn’t sit by anymore. You were going to say something, you just had to work up the courage first.

You’d been on your phone typing up possible things to say to him, so you didn’t see Harry walk up to your stall, and when you looked up, you jumped. He was right in front of you.

“I, um, I wanted to ask for your opinion,” he said, his voice so quiet you had to lean in to hear him.

“My opinion?” you asked, looking at him skeptically.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I—I want to buy a bouquet of flowers, but I don’t know which ones to get. I'm meeting someone and am in a bit of a rush, so if you could just...”

He gestured like he wanted you to be quick in your assessment of your own flower arrangements.

You were curious as to why now, after weeks of him practically judging your stall, he wanted your advice, or to buy something. But when he said he was in a rush, you realized you were probably a last resort. Harry didn't want to buy from you, you were just a convenient option.

"Sure. Is there anything you're looking for in particular?"

"Flowers," he blurted, looking at you like he suddenly regretted coming to your stall at all. At that moment, you wondered where his normal group of friends was. Harry was rarely ever alone, and you would've loved a buffer between the two of you right about now.

Rolling your eyes, you said, "I meant, what's the occasion? Are you celebrating? Is it romantic? Are they for a family member?"

You hoped that your questions would clear things up, but he only looked at you with a deeper frown. "Does it matter? They're all flowers."

This was your moment. This was your opportunity to speak your mind and match his sour energy. But as you opened your mouth to tell him how you really felt about his judgy eyes and above-it-all demeanor, you chickened out.

"You're right. Here," you told him, pulling a random bouquet from your stall and handing it to Harry. It was a personal favorite of yours—lavender and daisies and baby's breath bundled together with twine—and a pretty neutral bouquet. Unless he was about to go to some sort of anniversary event with a significant other, in which something a little more grand would be more fitting. But he said it didn't matter, so you decided not to think into it too much.

"That'll be twelve dollars."

His brows raised in a way that made you dislike him even more, but he only pulled his wallet out and handed you a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change," he mumbled, then walked off the way he'd come.

"Ass," you muttered.

Checking your watch, you realized the market was going to be over soon. And since no one was even looking at your stall, you decided to pack up for the day. You began pulling bouquets from their displays, already coming up with ways to repurpose the ones that were showing signs of wilting. You often dried them and made little bookmarks, plates, ornaments, and other kinds of decorations, but that took time and planning.

"Did Harry Styles just buy flowers from here?"

You looked behind you to where a girl dressed in bell bottoms and a crop top was standing, glitter-covered eyes looking at you expectantly.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Can I buy the same bouquet as him? Does he shop here a lot?"

There was an opportunity here. To lie or to tell the truth. Since you were still a little miffed by the singer's behavior, you went with a little white lie. "He comes here every week."

It technically wasn't a lie. He did come every week, but the girl didn't have to know that today was the first time he'd ever purchased anything. You had a lot of flowers to sell, and Harry was going to help you, whether he was aware of it or not.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The next Saturday came and Harry was back with what some might consider his “entourage.” If it was possible, he looked even moodier than he normally did, and he was headed straight towards you. You didn’t know what he wanted, nor did you care that people were gawking at him as he came into your stall. Thanks to him, business was better than ever, word having spread that the Harry Styles frequented your flower stand. You were in the middle of helping a bride with ideas for arrangements for her wedding, and you weren’t going to stop for Harry. He could wait.

“I need to speak to you.”

His voice made it seem like there wasn’t room for debate, but you didn’t see it that way.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute. Feel free to look around,” you told him, quickly going back to the bride to be.

You could practically feel him standing behind you, but you took your time helping the potential client. In reality, it was maybe two or three minutes, but when you turned around, Harry’s arms were crossed like you’d made him wait an hour.

Smiling, you asked, “How can I help you?”

“She didn’t like them.”

You knew what he was talking about, but an evil part of you kind of liked pissing the rockstar off. “Like what?”

Harry just continued to stare intensely. “The flowers. The ones I bought from you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” you said, and you meant it too. You took pride in arranging your bouquets. “Did you want to buy more or did you just want to tell me that?”

“Well, I—” He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I mean not really, but she said I had to.”

Your brows raised, both thoroughly confused and amused at the same time. “Okay. Well, have a look around, and let me know if—”

“There’s nothing here,” he interrupted. “She’s very picky. Likes to have stuff that other people don’t.”

Who was he dating? The queen? you thought. You understood getting the right bouquet and having a favorite flower, but you couldn’t just pull the ones you had apart and make Harry a new one. You grouped those flowers together for a reason.

“I mean if you think they’re unsatisfactory, then you could always just go somewhere else,” you said.

“It’s not me, it’s her,” Harry said. “I couldn’t care less, but she’s insisting, and I’m already here, so.”

He didn’t even realize that he just insulted you. And not only that, but he still expected your help.

Channeling all of your most calming thoughts, you took a deep breath and smiled. “Well, let me check the back for something more unique. Oh wait, there is no back,” you said with a shrug. If he didn’t care, then you didn’t either.

“Why are you being rude? I’m asking you for help,” he asked, seeming utterly confused.

It occurred to you then that the man in front of you might just be the brutally honest type, that he didn’t think he was being mean, just honest. He was, but you weren’t going to have it out with him about his behavior. If no one hadn’t called him out on it, you weren’t going to be the one to change his mind.

“I...guess you can come back to my garden and pick out a bouquet there, but it’ll cost you ex—”

“Done. When can we leave?”

“Market closes in an hour,” you said, eager to be rid of him for the time being.

“I’ll come back then.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered. It was sarcastic, of course, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry was back in exactly an hour, his friends nowhere to be seen. He watched passively as you loaded wooden crates of flowers into your truck, and when you finally closed up the bed, you walked back over to him.

“You can just follow me in your car, I guess. I live about ten minutes from here.”

You weren’t surprised when all he did was nod. He followed you to the market’s parking lot, your eyes widening when he slid behind a sleek black car with tinted windows.

The entire drive, your mind was occupied. You wondered how the hell you ended up in this situation and pondered ways it could’ve gone differently. Perhaps you should’ve just told Harry to find another florist, or just let him pick apart your bouquets. But you were here, driving in your beat up, barely working, pick-up truck with one of the biggest celebrities of today trailing behind you in a car that costed more than you made in a year.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Take a look around and let me know if you see anything you like.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t want to leave him alone among the rows of flowers, but you also didn’t want to awkwardly trail behind him. So you settled for venturing to the next row over pretending to gather flowers while keeping an eye on him.

Harry barely said a word as he walked up and down your garden, his face as void of emotion as always. You wondered if he ever smiled, or what his laugh sounded like, but you quickly shook those thoughts away.

“I can’t find anything.”

Having gotten lost in picking out marigolds that looked ready to be picked, you startled at Harry’s sudden closeness. It appeared he was very sneaky.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said, though you kind of expected that from him. “I don’t have anything else to show you.”

“I just don’t know what to get for her, and she’ll have my head if I don’t get it right,” he said, and for a moment it sounded like he was genuinely worried about the possibility of his head being removed from his neck.

Harry claimed he couldn’t find anything, but it looked to you like he wasn’t going to leave here empty handed.

“Um...” You quickly scanned the row you were in. Spotting some pink carnations and wild daisies, an idea sprouted in your head. You snipped stems and went to another row to pull some other flowers to match. “Here. Carnations symbolize gratitude and the wild daisies beauty and hope. And the little purple ones are unique and will tie the whole thing together once I wrap them in purple paper. Does that work?”

Harry took the flowers from your hands and inspected them like he was about to give you feedback on your choice. Why he would do that, you weren’t sure. You didn’t go to his home and criticize his music.

But all he said was, “Flowers have meaning?”

You breathed heavily through your nose. “Yes, they do. Now, if you’d like, I can wrap these up for you. Put a bow on them maybe?”

Harry looked like he wanted to ask more about flowers and their meanings, but he just nodded.

You led him away from your garden and into your garage, which you’d converted into a workspace years ago. It was covered in unfinished projects and snipped stems and stray petals, but honestly it always looked like that.

“Um, there are small animals following you.”

“Oh!”

Turning around, you saw that Harry was right. There was a line of ducklings following you towards the house. Bending down, you cupped your hands and let a couple hop in.

“This is Melon, Sandy, and Hank. They hatched recently, and now they follow me everywhere.”

Harry peered down at the ducklings curiosity wrinkling his brow. “They...follow...you?”

“Yep. Do you want to hold one? Actually, why don’t you just take these while I go wrap up your flowers.”

You handed the ducklings off to Harry while you darted into your workspace, making quick work of cutting ribbon and tying a knot around the sweet peas’s stems. When you returned, Harry was holding two ducks while one somehow made it onto his shoulder and was burying itself in his hair.

“Sorry, I should’ve mentioned that Melon does that,” you said.

It was a risk to step into Harry’s personal bubble, you didn’t think he would be the type to appreciate that, but he also looked slightly freaked out that a duckling named Melon was trying to make a home out of his hair. Carefully, you removed Melon from strands of hair until he was safely back in your hands.

Harry quietly took the packaged flowers from you and handed the other ducklings back. Figuring he was in some kind of shock from holding the three ducks, you left him to his silence and showed him out.

“Do you own a lot of animals?”

The question surprised you, but only because you assumed Harry would want to leave as quickly as possible. “I don’t really see myself as an ‘owner,’ but I technically have a cow. And Cheese. And deer show up every now and again.

“Cheese?”

“A tree frog,” you clarified. “I was high when I named him.

That time you were sure the corner of his mouth flickered. “That’s...unusual.”

“What? Getting high?”

“No, the cow and—”

“That was a joke,” you said, stopping him even though his flustered state satisfied you to no end.

“Oh. Well here,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and pulling out a bunch of bills.

You started at them in shock. There was easily a hundred dollars in your hands. “I don’t need that mu—”

“Just take it. Please,” he insisted.

For a brief moment there, Harry seemed... different. You couldn’t really pass judgement because you didn’t know him, but the last couple minutes, he wasn’t so tense and wasn’t frowning so much. More awkward than broody. But he seemed closed off again,so you just took the money like he told you to.

Harry quickly sped off after that, and you were left alone in the dust, literally, trying to comprehend the day you just had.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Wiggles says you own a cow.”

Your first instinct was to look up, not down, so you didn’t see her at first. When you realized it wasn’t an adult that was speaking to you, your eyes shifted downward.

The first thing you saw was blond hair slicked back into a ponytail, the next thing was the coffee cup. She looked like she was nine going on twenty-nine with a plaid skirt and sweater vest. Who was this girl and where did she come from?

“You realize coffee stunts your growth, don’t you?” you asked, though a smile played at your lips.

She looked down at you the best she could at her height. A very commendable effort, you decided. “It’s decaf.”

“Fair enough. Who told you about my cow?”

“H—”

“Lucy, there you are!”

With wide eyes, you watched as Harry jogged over to you and the young girl. Lucy.

It seemed Harry switched out his usual group of friends for this young girl. You knew you probably shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Wiggles?”

At that, Harry glared down at Lucy. “We talked about that.”

Lucy shrugged. “You talked. I listened, and then I silently disagreed.”

You immediately liked this girl.

Turning away from Lucy, Harry looked at you with pink cheeks. “Sorry about her. We were just leaving, actually.”

“Oh. No worries, she just—”

“You came all this way and you’re not gonna give it to her?” Lucy asked.

It seemed as if this girl was Harry’s kryptonite, as he began to blush even harder. Sighing, Harry set the drink in his hand down on the table you were sitting behind. The drink you always ordered.

You looked at the drink, astonished. “How did you—”

“I just noticed the label, and I knew that that coffee shop is close by, and I mean the drink is green so all I had to ask for was the green one. It’s not like it was hard or anything.”

It sounded like Harry was trying to convince himself of that fact and not you, but the fact that his moody, broody exterior wasn’t as thick as you initially assumed put a smile on your face.

“Thank you. I don’t know why you got it for me, but thank you.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Harry said, “Well, I told Lucy about the florist who owned ducklings and a cow, and she insisted that I take her, and when I tried to explain that your house wasn’t a petting zoo, she said—”

“That everyone has a price, and Wiggles has a very big wallet,” Lucy supplied helpfully.

Lots of things shocked you at the moment, it was hard to pinpoint which one had your mouth slightly ajar.

Harry had...a child? They didn't look anything alike, but that didn't say much. But not only did he have a child, who was just as blunt as Harry was, he talked about you to her. You were curious to know in how much detail, but you didn't dare ask. It was clear Harry—Wiggles—had his hands full.

"I was just bringing this as a thank you for your help last week. That's all," Harry said, looking you dead in the eye. It was like he needed you to know he had absolutely no ulterior motives with the coffee. Not that you expected him to. As far as you knew, Harry had never been photographed with anyone romantically, but you had a feeling a florist and cow owner wasn't his type.

"Thanks," you said, picking up the drink and taking a sip from the straw.

It was awkwardly silent after that. You didn't really know what to say, and from the looks of it, Harry didn't want to say anything. His mask of indifference was back, but he made no move to take himself and Lucy away.

"So is it like one of those black and white cows you see on milk cartons, or is it—"

"Lucy," Harry hissed.

"What?"

The pair had a very interesting dynamic. The way they interacted felt more sibling-esque than father-daughter, and now you really wanted to know what exactly they meant to each other.

"She's a miniature cow with brown hair," you said to Lucy, not minding her curiosity one bit.

"Miniature?"

You nodded. "She won't grow to be very big. Wanna see?"

Harry stood with his arms crossed while you and Lucy looked at pictures of your pet on your phone. As you scrolled, the young girl peppered you with questions, and while you were more than happy to answer all of them, you could tell that Harry was even more ready to leave.

"You really live there? It looks like a fairy's home," she said, admiring the picture of Petal the miniature cow dozing in the garden.

"I do."

Lucy turned to Harry, and while his arms were still crossed and his face was still pretty stoic, something in his eyes softened when he looked at her. "We have to have our next tea party there."

"You can't just use someone's home for your tea parties, Lucy," Harry said, sounding like he'd had similar conversations before.

"Well obviously Y/n would be invited too," Lucy said with a roll of her eyes.

Sighing, he told her, "You can't invite yourself over to someone's house, Lu—"

"It's fine," you said, even if Harry was technically right. "Lucy, why don't you go pick out a bouquet of flowers. Free of charge."

Lucy's eyes lit up, and she scampered off to inspect each one, much like Harry often did when he stopped by.

Now that you and Harry were relatively alone, you were able to digest some of the information you'd learned in the last few minutes, the first being that Harry Styles, the Harry Styles that toured the world as a rock star and sang about sex and hallucinogenics, went to tea parties with a girl who couldn't be older than ten years old and called him Wiggles. Who knew that was what he was hiding under that broody facade?

"I'm sorry about her, she has no sense of personal boundaries," he finally said, breaking you away from your thoughts.

"Like I said, it's fine. She just made my day."

That made Harry smile just enough for a dimple to indent one of his cheeks. It made you wonder what his actual smile looked like. Attractive like him, you assumed, though you doubted you would ever see it.

"Thanks. And don't worry about the whole tea party and coming over thing, she'll forget about it by tomorrow."

Harry was saying one thing, but it didn't sound like he was all that convinced, and after witnessing Lucy's fascination and persistence yourself, you knew that she would probably nag Harry about it for days, maybe even weeks, to come.

"I...wouldn't mind if she came to visit Petal, but I will require one thing."

Harry looked skeptical but also relieved that he wasn't going to have to repeatedly tell Lucy no. "Deal. What is it?"

"I need to know how Harry Styles got the nickname 'Wiggles.'"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Suddenly knowing things about a celebrity was weird.

To you, Harry had just been some guy that was popular on the radio and really had a problem with your flower arrangements, and now he and his...well, you didn't know who Lucy was to him, but they were coming over to your house so that she could meet your pet cow.

Life was utterly bizarre (cow pun intended).

You didn't really know what to expect from Harry. He was quiet and standoffish and had this uncanny ability to make you question every little thing you did. You were used to seeing him from a distance, watching him as he silently judged your bouquets of flowers, and now you were spending an extended period of time with him. You weren't sure why you cared, but you did.

So you put a little effort into what you were wearing for your guests, but not to the point of looking like you were trying too hard. A bandana over your hair, a pair of jeans that didn't have grass stains on them, and a green turtleneck sweater that made your eyes pop.

Lucy and Harry were right on time, something you were expecting from them. This whole arrangement was strange, but seeing Lucy's eyes widen as she took in your garden in person made it all worth it.

Harry was pretty much silent as you showed Lucy all the different types of flowers and how to properly pick them. He trailed behind the two of you like some kind of bodyguard, boots kicking up dirt and crunching gravel as he walked.

"Is he always like that?" you couldn't help but ask Lucy. You wondered if it was just you who had that affect on him, or if that was just his natural disposition.

"Mm, kinda. He's just shy. Doesn't know how to talk to girls."

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but that was not how you assumed Harry Styles would be. You weren't a huge fan of his by any means, but you didn't live under a rock, either. Girls practically threw themselves at him, you guessed he had no issue flirting with girls.

Not that that's what you thought Harry wanted from you. His feelings towards you were pretty clear, you thought.

"I can hear you, you know," Harry called from a few feet behind you and Lucy. She giggled, like that was exactly her plan, but you just blushed. He didn't need to know you were asking about him.

"And here's Petal. She mostly just sleeps and eats all day," you said a while later. Lucy had insisted you showed her everything, and after an hour, you finally made it to where Petal was napping in the afternoon sun.

"She's so cute! Isn't she cute, Wig—I mean Harry?"

You stood back after telling Lucy where the best places to pet Petal were so she wouldn't get spooked, more than happy to just watch like Harry was.

You tried not to, but you couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. Your eyes caught on the sharp angle of his jaw the curl of his lashes and the point of his nose. And when you settled on his hair, you couldn't help but smile.

"You—You have something in your hair," you said, and before you could think, you were reaching up to pluck the dandelion tuft from one of his curls. The image of Harry's hair dotted with flowers made you smile even wider.

When you pulled back and saw his wide eyes, though, you immediately took a step back. "Sorry, I should've asked before invading your space like that."

Harry cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "It's fine."

Not that you really expected to, but you couldn't read Harry for the life of you. There were moments where you thought he was just awkward like Lucy said, and then there were those where he just seemed inexplicably cold. Maybe it's just me, you thought, and you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by that.

When you turned back towards Lucy to ask if she wanted to go find your ducklings, you missed the way rested his face in his hands.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You weren't sure how it happened, but Harry and Lucy were suddenly a part of your life.

Well, that wasn't totally true. Lucy kept inviting herself over, and you learned very quickly that Harry had a hard time telling her no. Not that you minded. Lucy was sweet, and it was nice having people around.

Harry remained as cold as ever. Over the last few weeks, you knew almost everything about Lucy. As she helped you pick flower crowns, she told you how she preferred her coffee, while you showed her how to make flower crowns and preserve dried flowers, she revealed that Harry was her godfather who helped take care of her, and she told you about her classmate that sang a little too loudly during music class. And while you brewed tea for her tea party, she broke down her meal schedule, from breakfast croissant all the way down to her bedtime glass of steamed milk (non-dairy, of course).

And yet, in all that time, Harry remained a mystery. Unless Lucy included him in a story, you knew as much about him as you did when he was merely someone who came by your stall at the farmer's market.

It didn't bother you, but you were curious as to why stayed so far away whenever you and Lucy hung out.

"Are you free on Saturday night, Y/n?"

You looked up from where you'd been braiding little flowers into Lucy's hair. "I think so. Why? Are you asking to come over?"

"No, I have plans, but you should definitely go out."

She did that a lot, you learned. She liked to tell you what to do with your life and give you advice on how to spend it. Most of it you ignored, seeing as she was nine—though you did take her up on a coffee recommendation she gave you a week ago—but for the most part, you humored her.

"And where should I go?" you asked.

"Wiggles is playing at the Troubadour. You should go see him perform."

Looking over to where Harry sat on a patio chair, you assumed he would be on his phone or staring off into the distance, but his eyes were already on you and Lucy, watching the conversation play out.

"Um..." You weren't really sure how to answer with Harry staring you down like that. Did he want you to say no? Yes? You couldn't tell. "It's kind of last minute, don't you think? I think it might be sold out by now."

"He could work something out. Couldn't you, Harry? Don't you want Y/n to see you perform?"

You didn't know him, but one thing you could assume about Harry Styles was that he didn't like being put on the spot. Looking at you, he said, "If you want to come, I could figure something out."

Lucy jumped up and clapped. "See? Perfect! Now your night won't be boring and Wiggles will be so excited you're coming."

He certainly didn't look very excited. His face morphed into a grimace, though you tried not to be too offended by that.

When it was time for Lucy and Harry to leave, you pulled Harry aside once Lucy was buckled up in the car.

"I won't come if you don't want me to."

Harry shook his head, curls bouncing around his shoulders as he moved. "No, you should. The Troubadour is a cool venue."

"Uh...Okay. Sure. I guess it wouldn't hurt to have plans on Saturday night."

Giving you a curt nod, he said. "Great. I'll text you the details on Friday."

"Cool, I'll see you—then," you said, but he'd already spun around to get in the car.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"The Troubadour is a cool venue?" Lucy mocked with a giggle.

Harry rested his head on the steering wheel and blew out a heavy sigh. "Shut up, Lucy."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You were overdressed.

Or perhaps not appropriately dressed was a better way to put it. You weren't the type to wear a lot of black, but maybe you should've gone out and bought something more suited for a rock concert at the Troubadour. You were in a pair of denim overalls with a floral blouse underneath, a small bouquet of flowers in your hands to give to Harry after his performance.

Everyone at Harry's show was intense, and you were suddenly very glad that you were watching from the second floor. There was a lot of pushing and shoving right in front of the stage, people reaching out in the hopes that Harry would touch their hand.

And Harry. Well, at least now you knew why everyone loved him. Everything about him was hot as he sang onstage. He played guitar, his chest was on display with the button-down that was barely buttoned, and eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, making his green eyes pop. A few times, he looked up to where you were, and you blushed every time. You thought he was cute, like most of the population, but to you that was just a fact. Now, though, butterflies stirred in your stomach.

Maybe it was that Harry seemed to come alive onstage, or that you were finally seeing a side of him other than the quiet, indifferent person you'd become acquainted with through Lucy. Whatever the case, you enjoyed seeing Harry like this, less stoic and more energetic.

When the show was over, you waited and debated. You'd brought flowers for Harry, but his text didn't say anything about the two of you meeting afterward. In truth, your connection was mostly through Lucy, and without her here, there was no reason for you to see each other.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: You can come backstage if you'd like.

That was certainly unexpected. You made your way to what you assumed backstage, smiling at people as you passed. Some smiled back, and some glared at you when they realized where you were headed.

There was a security guard in front of the green room, but he must have been expecting you because he stepped aside before you could say anything.

"Oh! Sorry! I'll wait outside!"

Apparently, the security guard wasn't aware that Harry was changing out of his stage clothes. He'd been slipping his patterned button-down off his shoulders. You were quick to turn around, but not before catching a glimpse of broad shoulders and an entire chest covered in tattoos. Your heart had just stopped racing after his final performance, but now it was fluttering all over again.

"It's fine, Y/n. You can turn around."

Slowly, you turned on your heel. Harry was already in a t-shirt, a faded Ramones shirt with a stretched collar that revealed tattoos inching up his neck.

"These are—These are for you."

"Thanks."

You awkwardly handed over the flowers for him to take, Harry's fingers brushing yours when he eventually did. You weren't sure why you were so nervous all of a sudden. You'd seen Harry numerous times, so you didn't know why this felt so different.

"I really enjoyed your show tonight. I can see why so many people like you. And the, um, the part where you drank water and then spit it out was cool too. I think the girl next to me almost fainted."

Your nerves were palpable, so you weren't surprised when a smile itched at the corner of Harry's mouth. "I'm glad you had a good time."

Neither of you knew what to say now. Both of you stood in the middle of the green room, Harry holding the bouquet of flowers between ringed-adorned fingers and you wishing you hadn't given them away just yet so your hands had something to fiddle with.

"Well, thanks again for this. I had a lot of fun. Though maybe I should thank Lucy. She kind of forced your hand."

Harry was still staring at you with an unreadable expression. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

"I'm—I'm glad you came tonight," he said.

Your brows raised in surprise. "Really? I kind of thought you hated me."

Why did you have to go and say that, idiot? you thought. Now things were even more awkward than they were before.

Harry frowned, looking genuinely hurt by what you said. "I don't hate you. You think I hate you?"

"Well, no, I mean kinda? I guess I just took you not talking to me as disliking me, and before I even met Lucy you would always look at my stall with this hard expression on your face, and then you would never buy anything. Which is fine except you kept coming back so, I don't know, it just felt like my work wasn't good enough for you and you're always glaring and it—it's just this feeling I have."

You took a deep exhaled, having said all of that in one breath. You didn't come to Harry's show tonight with plans to say all that, but now that you did, you felt a bit better. Though now you worried you may have hurt Harry's feelings.

"I—I was just trying to come up with something," he said.

"Come up with something?"

"To say. To you. I don't know anything about flowers, and you make me nervous, and the fact that I couldn't just make myself go up and talk to you frustrated me to no end. I just didn't want to look like an idiot in front of you."

"Oh."

You had no idea how to respond. All this time, you thought Harry didn't like you, only to find out that he was...nervous to talk to you? You remembered Lucy saying that Harry was shy, but you didn't think it went that deep. Apparently, it did.

"So you...like...me then?" you asked. It sounded to you like Harry had a crush, but you weren't going to make any more assumptions.

"Yeah, I—I've been working up the courage to ask you out for weeks, but Lucy beat me to it. Nosy little menace."

You couldn't help but smile at the mention of Lucy. She really was the cause of all this. "Her heart was in the right place?"

Harry nodded, but he wouldn't meet your eyes. "I understand if—if don't want to. Go out with me that is," he said, pink tinging his cheeks. "Now that I know you thought I hated you and everything. But I don't. You should know that, at the very least."

He looked so defeated with his hair hanging in his face the way it was. All of this was coming as a surprise to you, and as such rendered you speechless. But the longer you went without saying anything, the more Harry seemed to deflate.

"You, uh, you haven't actually asked me yet," you found yourself saying.

You thought Harry was a mystery, and in some respects, he was. He'd been a little rude to you the first few times you spoke to him, but everyone had their off days, and he hadn't been like that since he and Lucy started regularly coming to your house.

And without actually speaking to him much, you knew quite a bit about him. You knew he had a goddaughter, whom he loved very much and let call him Wiggles. You knew that he seemed to have a hard time expressing his feelings unless he was onstage. You knew he had a close group of friends that he hung out with regularly. And you knew he let Lucy put flowers in his hair (but you only knew that because she told you).

It was a short list, but you found yourself wanting to add to it.

Harry looked at you, hope etching his features. "Right, um. Would you like to...to go out sometime?"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

As your truck pulled into the driveway, you sighed.

You felt like Cinderella after the clock struck twelve. You checked in on all your animals, making sure they were all accounted for. As you finally made it to your bedroom, you replayed the night's events over and over.

You didn't think that was where the night was headed, you almost couldn't believe it. The last few hours felt like a dream, one that you would wake up from any minute now.

But then your phone chimed, and your heart did that weird fluttery thing when you saw who the message was from.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: I had a really good time tonight.

Harry "Wiggles" Styles: Is it too soon to ask for a second date?

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff

1K notes · View notes

throneofsapphics · 1 year

Text

have your little girlfriend

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: “You look so pretty with that blush. I wonder how far-”

“Not here.” Y/n interrupted, placing a finger to her lips. Aelin nipped at it with her canines, but kept her mouth shut.

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warnings: mostly smut, slightly dark Aelin, possessiveness, light d/s dynamics, minors dni please!

series masterlist

Aelin took off a few hours early, Rowan staying behind to finish up negotiations with Darrow and the rest of the council. He could manage an afternoon with them, she’d reasoned. Besides, she’d barely seen her girlfriend in the last few months, all of them being busy. Y/n was making preparations for Yulemas, stocking up on the crafts and chocolates she’d make for her market stall. Aelin still doesn’t get how people will brave the markets in the middle of Terrasen winters, but Y/n is out there every Saturday, without fail. And every Saturday she can, she goes to visit and pretends to be a stranger inspecting the wares.

Hopefully she timed it right, in theory she’d arrive just before closing. Her cloak pulled tight around her, she took to the streets. The day is milder than usual, just a chilly breeze flowing through.

Y/n was distracted, speaking with someone at the far end of her table, and Aelin snuck around to the other side, picking up a small box of chocolates and pretending to examine them. One of the sellers - Edde - on the other side caught her gaze, giving her a small grin. They were used to her antics by now.

“How much for these?” She asked, after the person had walked away. Y/n’s face lit up, her nose red and cheeks red from the cold.

“For you?” She took the box from her hands, squinting at it. “Three silvers.”

Aelin pretended to look outraged, “That’s robbery.” She narrowed her eyes, fighting the smile that crept on her face.

“If you can’t afford them,” Y/n moved the box to the side. “Just say so,” She shrugged.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “What about this?” She asked, picking up a small ornament. A delicately carved wooden snowflake, painted white with small blue swirls. She ran her fingers over it - all completely smooth, not a rough edge on it. She noticed the rest of the table was nearly all bare - y/n must’ve had a busy day, although she’s not surprised.

“Free, for you.”

“A snowflake, but not chocolates?” Aelin pouted as Y/n leaned her hip against the table.

“If you don’t want it..” she began, reaching her hand out, palm up.

Aelin snatched it back, sliding it into her pocket. “No, I’ll keep it.” Still, she tossed a few silver coins on the table, which Y/n picked up, and shoved back at her. That fight again. They did this little dance every time. A few silvers seemed to bounce between them. If she didn’t take them back, they’d show up in her pocket, on her desk, in a drawer; anywhere she could find them. And places y/n hadn’t been. Sometimes she wondered if she bribed Fenrys or Aedion to return them.

She pushed the open hand away, and Y/n huffed, handing her a box of chocolates instead. Those, she accepted without complaint and started eating as Y/n began packing up for the rest of the day. Chocolate and Hazelnut. Aelin fought the urge to moan loudly. The market had begun to empty around them but a few other seller’s remained, all packing things up.

“All set.” Y/n announced, dusting her hands off. Everything was loaded onto a small cart with a handle. “Can I expect a shadow on my way home?”

“Of course,” she answered - the words muffled by the chocolate in her mouth. “Are you going to let me help this time?”

“No.”

“It was one time.” Just once, Aelin had knocked the entire cart over, boxes of chocolates spilling into the dirt. Y/n had laughed it off, but never let her help again. That included loading any merchandise. Rowan could help, but Aelin? As soon as she got close to it, her hands were swatted away.

Y/n leaned over the table, licking her thumb before brushing it over the corner of Aelin’s mouth. “You had something there.” Quicker than the other female could react, Aelin caught her hand, sucking her thumb into her mouth.

Her eyes widened, cheeks flushing. “There’s still people.” She hissed, looking around furtively.

“Just cleaning up,” she released her finger with a smirk. “You look so pretty with that blush. I wonder how far-”

“Not here.” Y/n interrupted, placing a finger to her lips. Aelin nipped at it with her canines, but kept her mouth shut.

Aelin played the long game. She knew she wanted Y/n as soon as she saw her, and brought Rowan in on it as well. He was amused by the entire thing, and told her to ‘have her little girlfriend,’ even though he enjoyed her presence as well. And watching the two of them occasionally. Maybe it made her a bit possessive, but any time Rowan was around her, she was there as well. Any time he touched her, Aelin was directing the show, speaking into his mind. She had a feeling Rowan liked being told what to do sometimes.

Y/n, on the other hand, completely submitted to her. For the most part. She’d melt under her touch, blush at any little thing Aelin did to tease her, and look at her with adoring eyes that made her heart flutter.

She remembers vividly the first time she got to touch her in all of the ways she’d dreamed about.

She whimpered under Aelin’s touch, her head propped up on a pillow while Aelin sucked gently at her nipple.

She glanced nervously at Rowan in the corner, but before she could catch any reaction from him, Aelin’s fingers gripped her chin and turned her focus back to her.

“Look at me. Not him.” She said in a low voice, her hand drifted to the back of her head, twining her hair between her fingers before pressing her lips against hers. Her grip tightened, and Y/n’s let out a soft moan, lips parting slightly to let Aelin bite her bottom lip. It was like everything went silent – the rest of the world drowned out. All Y/n could feel was her soft lips and the gentle pressure of her chest and body melting into hers. Her hands stroked Aelin’s shoulders, trailing down her back with light and gentle touches. When she got the chance, she nipped at Aelin’s bottom lip. Her hand immediately moved from the back of her head to her neck, squeezing gently.

Y/n’s core throbbed and her heart rate went up. She could feel the smirk on the Queen’s face, and saw it when she moved to straddle her legs.

She tried to sit up, but Aelin clicked her tongue and pushed her shoulders back down, one hand grabbing both of her wrists before pinning them above her head. “Can you keep them there, or will I have to tie them to the headboard?”

She shook her head.

“Words,” Aelin purred, flicking her nipple.

“I can keep them there.” Y/n breathed, whimpering slightly from the touch.

“How good.” Rowan spoke for the first time. “I wonder how long that will last.”

Y/n looked back and forth rapidly between him and Aelin. “Rowan.” She said, her voice a warning, “eyes on me, sweet thing.” Her thumb dragged across her cheek before she pressed her fingertips against y/n’s mouth. Her lips parted, and Aelin’s fingers pushed her. Y/n’s tongue swirled around them, tasting the faint hint of chocolate from earlier.

Aelin’s breaths grew heavier, her eyes glazed with lust, but she kept leaving feather light strokes on her body, never touching exactly where she knew the female wanted.

“So sensitive,” she teased when Y/n keened into her, her nails dragging down her front, skirting her breasts.

Aelin watched as her control slipped, her hands shifting, fighting the urge to reach down and touch her.

Finally, she caved and her hands moved, reaching down to touch Aelin, but before she could reach her - Rowan was there, one of his hands snatching both of hers and pulling them back above her body.

“I believe she told you to keep them above your head, are you not capable of listening?” His voice was a low growl as his lips lowered to brush over her ear.

“I’m sure it was an accident, wasn’t it darling?”

She nodded rapidly.

“Words.” Rowan said this time, his hand squeezing around her wrists.

Don’t scare her. Aelin said directly to him. He ignored her.

“It was an accident,” Y/n blurted out, her chest starting to turn red as well. An ice kissed wind wrapped around her wrists as Rowan removed his hand, taking a few steps back to observe again.

You want her. Don’t you? Aelin purred.

I’m only making sure she listens.

Aelin would’ve rolled her eyes if she wasn’t focused on the sight in front of her. Finally, she gently squeezed one of y/n’s nipples twisting slightly and thoroughly enjoying the gasp that left her lips. Desire built in her own stomach as she watched her come undone.

She gave her no warning as she shifted, pushing one of y/n’s legs up next to her chest and plunged two fingers directly in her.

“Gods Aelin,” she moaned, head thrown back, but her hands didn’t move an inch - a few words from Rowan had her obeying perfectly, Aelin noted that for later.

One of Aelin’s hands pressed down against her stomach to pin her to the mattress while the other one absolutely destroyed her. “So pretty, falling apart on my fingers, hm?” she teased her. Y/n could only whimper in reply, an orgasm quickly approaching. “Go on,” Aelin coached, “fall apart for me.” And she did - finishing with a loud moan as Aelin continued fucking her through it.

‘Gods gods gods’ y/n thought, but couldn’t speak as words were lost to her.

“Please, it’s too much.” Y/n managed to say after the third one. Her body writhing, almost shying away from her touch.

“You can take it,” Aelin demanded, “one more for me, sweet thing,” and she leaned down, digging her canines into the soft skin of y/n’s inner thigh as she screamed, releasing barrelling through her as she clenched tightly around her fingers - tight enough Aelin almost hissed.

“Such a good girl,” She purred, finally giving her abused cunt a break. “You can move your hands now.”

She did, making grabby motions at Aelin to come up closer to her.

“Can I touch you, please?” She nearly begged.

Aelin’s eyes gleamed, “I suppose,’ she drawled and shifted up, lowering herself over y/n’s face and enjoying the surprised look on her face. She got over the surprise quickly, and wrapped her arms around Aelin’s thighs, giving small kitten licks to her clit.

“You taste how wet I am?” Aelin moaned, “all for you, love.”

Y/n moaned, letting the vibrations soar through her body before sucking on her clit. It didn’t take long before Aelin was grinding against her face, using y/n’s flattened tongue to bring herself to release. Her hand gripped Y/n’s hair, her thighs squeezing around her head as she rained praises on her.

Panting heavily, Aelin climbed off, leaning down so she could kiss y/n and taste herself on her mouth. Y/n let out a contented sigh, melting into her. Their bodies glistened as they pressed together, legs tangled up.

“I hope you didn’t think we were done,” Aelin said, and nudged her chin to Rowan. “He hasn’t gotten to taste your sweet little pussy yet.” Y/n, bless her, whimpered as she glanced towards the brooding Fae male - trembling with restraint, pupils blown wide. “I’m kidding,” Aelin murmured, “he doesn’t get you yet.” The resounding growl rumbling through her mind had Aelin hiding a smile.

Aelin’s streak for voyeurism always put her on edge. A good one, but still on edge. She could feel her heart racing, cheeks flushing bright pink, and something starting to coil in her stomach. She turned away immediately, like the wind might hide her scent. By Aelin’s small laugh, she knows her girlfriend’s already noticed it.

Girlfriend. That was still new. Well, new for an immortal. Aelin saw her one day, while she and Rowan were walking through the market - nearly everyone gawking at them, and stopped by her stall and bought some chocolates - insisting she pay for them. Y/n had been a stuttering mess, and she seemed amused by it. Then, Aelin started coming every Saturday she was there, having a knack for showing up just before she packed up. Rowan would wait patiently with a vaguely amused expression on his face. They started staying longer and longer, asking her more about herself and her life. After a year, Y/n finally asked Aelin why, one day when Rowan hadn’t come. In the beginning, she found the Queen much less intimidating.

“You make the best chocolates,” she’d shrugged, with a half smile curving her lips. Y/n knew that was a lie. There were expert chocolatiers in Orynth with decades of experience on her, but she took the compliment anyways and thanked the Queen.

Once, she’d been sick for a few weeks, and missed three weekends. Aelin had asked around, found out she was ill, and showed up at her home with a get-well basket. One of the sellers told me about it the first weekend she was back, hiding her mouth behind her hand like a gossiping schoolgirl.

Ever since she showed up at her home, things escalated from there. They’d offer to walk her home. Most of the time it was both of them, but Rowan never came without Aelin. She found herself looking forward to seeing them, and had to fight the small urge of disappointment when they couldn’t make it. There was no way of telling whether or not they’d be there, but she always lingered until the last minute - until she was the only vendor remaining, before packing up to go. She could’ve sworn a white-tailed hawk had followed her home a time or two.

“Let’s go,” Y/n smiled at where Aelin was still licking her fingers, and held out her hand for the empty box. Aelin ignored it, lacing their fingers together. “I can’t pull this one handed,” she protested weakly, and Aelin switched so her arm would wrap lazily around her shoulders. Warm heat caressed both of them on their way home, keeping her at a comfortable temperature despite the wicked chill outside. They finally made it back to her place to find the one and only Rowan Whitethorn leaning against her doorway.

“How did I know this is where you’d sneak off to?” He asked Aelin and the Queen leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. He deepened it, one hand burying itself in those golden strands, and Y/n snorted before skirting down the small alleyway towards the shed where she stored everything. She had half a mind to enter through the backdoor and lock the two lovebirds out, but Aelin would only pick the lock. Maybe she would, just to see how long it would take them to notice. Less than five minutes later, her front door clicked open, revealing a glowering Aelin.

“Leaving us in the cold.” She tutted, sauntering inside.

Rowan stood by the door, assessing.

Y/n cocked her head and gave him a once over, “you can come in, your Highness.” She said mildly. His eyes flared, but she turned her back, starting on tea. Rowan had always been reserved around her in comparison to Aelin - who currently had her arms wrapped around her waist, peppering kisses on her neck. She’d asked Aelin why once,

“Because you’re mine.” She answered with a grin, but pure possession laced her tone. “Mostly mine.” She amended after seeing Y/n’s furrowed brow.

“What would you do if I told you to get on your knees?” Y/n let out a small yelp, and only Aelin’s quick hands kept the kettle from crashing to the ground.

“Gods, Aelin.” She groaned.

“That didn’t answer my question.” She nipped harshly at her ear, drawing a discontented grumble out of her and Aelin’s arms tightened around her.

“Are you going to make her ask twice?” Rowan demanded from the side. Aelin’s arms were tight enough around her she couldn’t jump again. Y/n rolled her eyes, enjoying the way the male seethed.

“We’ve both asked you a question now.” Nimble fingers pinched her hip.

“Ouch.”

“And you still haven’t answered it.” Aelin’s lips grazed her ear. “What am I going to do about you?” Y/n whimpered. “Should I turn you over to him?” She stiffened, gaze naturally looking towards Rowan - who’s eyes flashed, promising something she’d either hate or love. Maybe both. She scented his arousal, and forced amusement into her eyes, trying to fight down the small bit of fear.

Aelin’s hand formed a necklace around her throat. “He loves brats like you.” She squeezed gently. An involuntary shiver ran through her body.

“I doubt he’s willing.” Y/n turned her attention back to the stove in front of her.

“I doubt he’s willing.” Complete dismissal. Aelin could feel the tentative restraint holding her mate back begin to snap.

May I? Rowan’s voice thundered through her head. She’d enjoy watching this.

Go ahead. Aelin stepped back - noticing Y/n’s body stiffen, she could tell something was off. Sure enough, an ice kiss wind smothered the fire she’d lit under the burner.

“Excuse -” She started to say after the flame extinguished, but her words were cut off by the rough and calloused hand around her throat and the large body pressing into her back, pinning her hips up against the counter uncomfortably. Her throat bobbed against the hand, which only tightened. She froze completely as he nipped at the pulse point on her neck, an uncomfortable combination of fear and arousal flooding through her body. She knew if she said the word, Aelin would make sure everything stopped. But … maybe she didn’t want it to.

“What was it she asked you?” His hand grew tighter with every second she didn’t answer.

“She asked what I would do if she told me to get on my knees.” She managed to croak and the hand left her neck. She gasped for breath but his body remained pressed up against hers.

“And what would you do?” His voice was deceptively light.

“Consider it.” She shrugged, trying to light the fire again. Faster than she could think, her hands were pinned behind her back and her body bent over the kitchen table.

“Wrong answer.”

“Isn’t that up to her?”

Fingers pressed under her chin, lifting her head to see Aelin sprawled in the chair across from her, legs propped up on the table, pupils dilated and a lazy grin on her face.

“Considering it?” She hummed. “That’s no way to treat your girlfriend.” Y/n pouted and Aelin flicked her nose.

And what would you like me to do? Rowan asked Aelin, well aware she still planned on running the show.

Your choice. That surprised him, and his eyes widened but Aelin grinned like she’d given him a present. She had, in a way.

“Lucky for you,” he said softly enough she could barely hear, head tilting slightly to try and hear him better. “I put brats in their place.”

She melted underneath him, body going limp against the table with a small whimper. He looked at Aelin amusedly. That easy?

Just wait. Her eyes were fixed on Y/n. A foot stomped harshly enough on his insole he grunted, grip loosening ever so slightly - out of surprise, and she wiggled out of his grip, darting around the table to sit in Aelin’s lap instead, arms clutching around her shoulders. Aelin rubbed comforting strokes up and down her back, barely concealing her laughter.

Y/n’s head turned just enough so he could see the teasing smile on her face. Check. She seemed to say.

Aelin huffed as he tugged the female out of her arms, throwing her over his shoulder with a small slap to her ass, ignoring how she wiggled and the fists thumping half-heartedly against his back. “Fine.” He grunted. “You can get fucked like a brat instead.” He heard Aelin stand, trailing after them to her bedroom. Checkmate.

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin #aelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n #aelin galathynius x reader #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass smut #throne of glass fic #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #poly!rowaelin x reader #not proof read #aelin x y/n #I should be sleeping now

332 notes · View notes

pointycorgiears · 4 months

Text

White Tiger

There's a white tiger plush toy that sits on Mihawk's headboard over his bed.

He's had it for over thirty years.

He was always the tough kid at Moro's dojo. He was always the one demonstrating or correcting for the less skilled students. He did not have toys. His old family never let him have any. So he thought he did not have time to play. He was above such childish things. Or so he loudly proclaimed to his peers.

He pretended not to be distracted by the cute and fluffy white tiger sitting in a toy cart at the market one day.

He acted like he was paying attention to his master as she had him read through their grocery list while they picked out items from the fruit seller, instead of glancing back to the tiger across the street every few seconds. Moro then hurried him on to the next vendor and he had to silently bid farewell to the toy.

He did not notice when Moro told him to go buy a sack of flour from down the alley while she discreetly went and purchased the tiger toy and stuffed it in her bag.

After another long and hard training session the next day, Mihawk lay exhausted in his bed. He felt something soft placed on his arm, and opened his eyes to a face full of stripes and string whiskers, and Moro smiling at him gently from his bedroom door.

He was always the tough kid, but that white tiger was cuddled and loved from that first night all the way into his early adult years.

Now here it sat on his headboard on Karai Bari, evacuated with the rest of Mihawk's most treasured things from Kuraigana. It had seen its fairshare of hardships throughout the years, but nothing serious enough that Perona couldn't patch up once she discovered the toy (she got caught snooping in his room). As a result, it looked almost exactly like it did on the day Mihawk first saw it.

The first time Talon saw it, Mihawk felt the sensation of looking in a mirror of time that was showing him his younger self. There was the starry sparkle of longing in the Seraphim's wide eyes. Mihawk allowed him to hold it, to play with it but only if Talon promised to exercise the utmost care while handling the old, delicate thing.

Talon played with the plush every night before bedtime, always careful, always with fondness in his eyes. It was obvious the child was keeping his promise. So Mihawk finally relented and one night, after a grueling training session, he asked Talon if he would want to keep the white tiger as his own.

"It's yours," Mihawk told him. "You can have it now."

There was a pondering look on Talon's face as the boy held the tiger in his hands. What he then said in response to the offering completely caught Mihawk off guard.

"No, it's okay, Dad. He's important to you."

Talon then set the tiger back in its resting spot on the headboard, and hugged Mihawk goodnight before going to his own room.

Mihawk stared at the tiger sitting above him for a long time before falling asleep.

A week went by with Mihawk occasionally offering Talon custody of the tiger toy between breaks or meals. Each time, the boy declined. He was still allowed to play with it at night before bed, but he always selflessly put it back in its place. Mihawk was beginning to accept that maybe there were just some aspects that were different between him and his little clone.

Until a merchant ship arrived one day to deliver supplies. Its next stop after Karai Bari was going to be an island with a large fishing village where many families and children made their home. So as Mihawk and Talon inspected the goods from the ship, a crate of toys happened to catch the Seraphim's eye.

Mihawk was busy checking off Cross Guild's supply list when Talon came running up to him, excitedly tugging on his coat.

"Dad! Look!"

Talon was holding up a lion plush to show him. It had golden fur with a fiery red mane, and stringy whiskers. The child's eyes were absolutely beaming, and for the second time, Mihawk felt he was looking in a mirror.

The lion was purchased on the side with some spare berry Mihawk had in his pocket. From that moment on, it did not leave Talon's side for the entirety of the day. It even sat at the dinnertable, where Buggy pretended to feed it vegetables, much to its distaste, and commented how it must be a cousin of Richie's. Talon laughed and giggled, and the smile on his face brought a warm happiness to Mihawk's heart.

He made Talon promise to care for the lion as much as he did the tiger, so that "one day, you may be able to give it to your own children."

"I will, Dad," Talon answered as they sat on Mihawk's bed, and he crossed his heart. Something he recently learned from Buggy. "Look! Now Stripes has a friend!"

Mihawk still planned on passing his own toy to the child someday, when it was time. For now though, he would enjoy playing a game of Lions and Tigers before bed every night.

#dracule mihawk #talon the seraphim #lady moro #hawkeyes mihawk #cross guild #one piece #one piece oc #one piece seraphim #s hawk

36 notes · View notes

sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 11 months

Text

Haunting chapter 1

Note: it's spooky time! this fic is strongly inspired by the book True Haunting (a true story and a must read if you're into ghost stories!). this was supposed to be a one shot, but the fic was becoming way too long, so I had to split it up.

Warnings: angst/horror/paranormal stuff.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You and Sihtric finally bought a house, but at what cost?

wordcount: 4k

Masterlist

'Something is wrong with this house!'

'I still can't believe it,' you wiped a tear as you looked at your new home, while the movers were busy moving your furniture inside.

'I know,' Sihtric smiled proudly, and pulled you in his arms, 'we did it, babe,' he kissed your forehead, 'we finally bought a house.'

'I just can't believe it,' you chuckled, 'I mean, the fact that a detached house was so… so cheap?'

'Yeah, it surprised me too. Apparently it's been on the market for a long time, the previous owners just really wanted to get rid of it.'

'I wonder why,' you scoffed and looked around, 'I mean, look at this place! It's a dream. It's in a quiet neighbourhood, the backyard is huge and it's located perfectly between the city centre and the forest. Why on earth would anyone want to leave this place?'

'I don't know, honey,' Sihtric shrugged, 'but I'm glad they did, because it's ours now.'

Sihtric picked you up and threw you over his shoulder as you yelped, and he carried you inside the house, where you both started unpacking boxes right away to make your dream home a reality.

For years you had been trying to buy a house together, but the prices were just absurd and even when you both worked full time you couldn't afford a house. Until Sihtric saw an ad in the local newspaper, and he called the number immediately.

The real estate agent told Sihtric on the phone that he could pick up the keys at their office, and he was free to go and look around the house on his own. And so your husband of five years did, alone. He didn't want to give you any false hope, as previous houses you both had viewed always got sold to a couple who could afford to overbid, and Sihtric had seen the disappointment in your eyes each time. And he hated it. So, when you thought he was going to work one afternoon, he went to pick up the keys and drove to the house.

It was a huge, completely detached two story house, with a small windowless attic on the seemingly hidden third floor. The porch looked cosy and was surrounded by an impressive front yard, and when you walked around the house you ended up in a huge backyard. The lawn was so big that Sihtric already felt tired when he thought about all the work it needed. But he didn't care about that then, you both just really wanted to buy a house and finally move out of that horrible apartment building you rented a small studio at. You both wanted to start a family and it had been on hold, all because you just couldn't get a place that would be big enough for two adults and a child. And this house was big enough for two adults and four children, which is exactly what your husband wanted; a big family eventually.

Sihtric walked up the porch and put the key in the lock, but the door wouldn't open. He frowned and worried that maybe the real estate agent had given him the wrong key. Which didn't make much sense, Sihtric thought, because the key did fit in the lock, it just wouldn't fully turn. After a few tries he decided to walk around the house and ended up in the backyard, where he saw a back porch and went to try that door. At first he had the same issue, but after the third try the door suddenly flung open and Sihtric almost fell inside the house, in the kitchen. He chuckled and inspected the lock but saw nothing weird. He figured maybe the front door had an extra lock, and he'd check it out later.

He walked through the large kitchen and clearly the previous owners had moved out a while ago, as it was covered with quite the layer of dust, and thick cobwebs hung from the ceiling and lamps. To Sihtric's surprise, the kitchen had almost all the things one would need to live there. Cabinets full of plates and cups, as well as cutlery, all in good condition but a little dusty. He found a stack of towels, a bunch of pots and pans and even a drawer full of tablecloths.

'Odd,' Sihtric mumbled, and he was startled when the backdoor suddenly slammed shut.

Sihtric cursed loudly but then laughed at the scare.

'Close the door, Sihtric!' your mother would say, he thought with a smile, which faded quickly as his sudden memory continued, 'or it will slam shut and wake up your father, and you know what he's like…'

Sihtric cleared his throat and shook the random negative childhood memory. He shivered as he started to feel a little cold, but then continued his viewing. From the kitchen he walked straight into the living room, which was also filled with furniture, dust and cobwebs. The couch could be replaced and the tv cabinet was a bit old, but the chairs and carpet all looked decent. Sihtric smiled; everything seemed perfect so far. Except that it was quite chilly inside while it was the middle of summer, and outside it was incredibly hot. In the summer the temperature inside was fine, but Sihtric worried about how cold it would be inside during the winter. But that again was a worry for later, just like the work that the yard would need.

He walked out of the living room into the hallway, which looked almost royal with its high ceiling and large wooden stairs, which were also covered with dust and cobwebs. Sihtric checked the locks as he passed the front door, and to his surprise he found out there was nothing wrong with the door as he opened it without trouble from the inside.

'Odd,' Sihtric said again and closed the door, continuing his way to the second floor.

The wooden stairs creaked with each step Sihtric took, and he worried he'd fall through, but luckily that didn't happen. He noticed the second floor was even colder and he took a quick look in all the bedrooms which were, not surprisingly, also covered with dust and cobwebs. Everything was once again complete with furniture. Each room had a bed, a closet, a drawer and some rooms even had a desk. The master bedroom came with a huge king size bed, but Sihtric shuddered at the thought of what kind of nasty things the previous owners had done on that mattress, so he would definitely replace that with the bed you owned now. Strangely enough the master bedroom was also the coldest room in the house. And even though the sun was shining directly inside through the large windows, Sihtric could still see his own breath and he had goosebumps all over his body.

He took a quick look in the spacious bathroom, which came with an old but decent bathtub, and Sihtric decided he had seen enough already. He would check the attic once the house was sold to him, and he made an offer right away when he returned the key at the real estate office.

'You really want the place?' the agent asked, 'like… for real?'

'Yeah?' Sihtric frowned, 'sure, it needs some cleaning, but for that price? Bring it on.'

'Well,' the agent chuckled and mumbled, 'it's your life, not mine.'

And next thing he knew, Sihtric signed some papers and got to keep the key to the house. He surprised you with the news later that day, after dinner, and he drove you to see the house that same evening.

You both agreed it needed work but it had been a bargain, and you were simply over the moon.

It took a few weeks to get the place all cleaned up, but once done it looked amazing. You both had a couple of weeks off when you just moved in, but now Sihtric had to go back to work again, while you worked from home. And you simply couldn't wait to use the brand new bedroom turned home office.

And it was only when you could finally work in silence that you realised the mark your previous apartment had left in you. You often thought you heard stomping footsteps and muffled voices, but it had to be your imagination as you heard sounds like that the entire day and night in your old home. You simply ignored whatever you thought you heard and continued your work.

Everything went pretty normal in the following weeks. You and Sihtric were at peace. You both slept well at night after years of being kept awake by noisy neighbours, and you figured the bad luck you two had was finally turning around, for now...

'Have you seen my phone, hon?' Sihtric asked as he was running late for work one morning, 'I swore I put it on the cabinet in the hallway, but it's not there.'

'Oh?' you frowned and searched the kitchen alongside your husband, 'hm, no, baby,' you sighed, 'I haven't seen it anywhere. Did you leave it upstairs?'

'I already looked there.'

'Couch?'

'Already looked,' Sihtric groaned as he emptied another drawer, without any phone appearing, 'fuck,' he hissed, 'well, no phone then. I really gotta run, love,' he said and pecked your lips, 'love you, see you tonight.'

And with those words he ran out of the kitchen and slammed the front door shut behind him. After a few minutes you felt bothered by the fact that he couldn't find his phone, so you continued the search. There was no bother trying to call his number, because his phone was always on silent. You decided to look upstairs and, as you walked through the hallway, you found his phone on the cabinet.

'Men,' you snorted, then took a photo of your husband's phone which was in plain sight on the cabinet in the hallway, just where he said he had left it.

You texted the photo to Finan, a friend and colleague of Sihtric, knowing he'd show the photo to him at work.

You: tell my husband he's getting old ;)

Finan: Sihtric asked if this is a prank

You: what? No, I swear. His phone was right there when I passed the cabinet…

Finan: he doesn't believe you

'Babe, I checked that cabinet like ten times,' Sihtric said during dinner that night.

'Siht, you don't actually think I hid your phone and let you leave the house without it?' you scoffed, 'you know how anxious I get when I can't reach you.'

Sihtric huffed. He knew you were right, but he just didn't understand how he hadn't seen his phone that morning.

'I don't know,' he said, 'I just can't explain it.'

'Well, I didn't touch it, okay?'

After a while of slight arguing, you both decided to drop the subject and cleaned up the kitchen together. And as you did the dishes, Sihtric snuck up behind you and circled his arms around your waist. He squeezed you in his arms and kissed your cheek.

'Want to take a bath together?' he asked, his smooth voice still making your legs go weak after all those years.

You nodded with a cheeky grin and your husband was quick to slap your ass before he ran off into the hallway and up the stairs. Sihtric filled the bathtub with pleasantly hot water, and threw in a multicoloured bath bomb before he switched off the tap. As he walked past the stairs, to the bedroom to grab some towels, he yelled that the bath was ready.

You quickly switched off all the lights downstairs and sprinted up the stairs. You were eager to have some romantic time with your husband, as that's the only thing that has been lacking since you had moved. You met Sihtric as he walked back to the bathroom, and you playfully shoved him to the side to get into the bathtub first. But when you were ready to take off your clothes and stared into the bathtub, you frowned and turned to your husband.

'Is this a joke?' you clicked your tongue, 'because it's not funny. I heard the water running, so you just wasted a shit ton of water, and apparently a bath bomb too,' you said, confused.

'What?' Sihtric asked, equally confused, and he looked in the bathtub which was completely empty, except for the colours the bath bomb had left.

'Sihtric, we already don't have that much money left each month, don't waste water like this…'

'What the fuck?' he muttered, 'n-no, I filled it. It was completely filled up. Here!' he said and dropped the towels on the floor, 'see, you can still see the faint line of where the water was because of the bath bomb!' he pointed near the edge of the bathtub, and you couldn't disagree with him.

'Did the plug come out then?' you wondered out loud.

'I guess,' Sihtric scoffed, 'but… there's no way the water could have been drained this fast. I only left the bathroom for like twenty seconds.'

'Are you sure you plugged it?'

'Yes!' Sihtric hissed, 'I'm not an idiot!'

'Well, your phone-'

'It wasn't there when I checked!' he snarled, then sighed and raked his fingers through his curls, 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I'm sorry, honey. It's just been a weird day, I don't mean to take it out on you. I'm sorry.'

'Yeah,' you mumbled, 'let's just… let's just go to bed, Siht,' you turned and walked out of the bathroom, 'I'm not in the mood anymore.'

The next morning Sihtric's phone was missing again, and he searched the entire house. Once he finally found it, in the fridge with a dead battery, he cursed loudly and went on to make breakfast. He switched on the stove and sat down at the table, annoyed. As you were still asleep he wanted to leave a note that his phone was broken, and he went into the living room to grab a pen and some paper. When Sihtric returned, he noticed the stove was off.

'This better not be broken,' he muttered and switched it on again.

He sat down to write you a note, but the pen didn't work so he left the kitchen again to get a new one. And when he returned the stove was once again switched off.

'What is this bullshit?' Sihtric mumbled.

He switched the stove on again and kept his eyes on it. For five minutes he stood there, arms crossed and jaw clenched, watching a perfectly fine working stove. Then he returned to writing his note, went back into the living room to put the pen back in the drawer, and when he came back the stove was again switched off. Sihtric cursed and left the kitchen, thinking he was going insane. He went upstairs and kissed you goodbye, then left for work without breakfast, as he'd grab something on the way. If he could leave at least, because when he grabbed his car keys he saw the key was bent.

'What is going on with you?' you asked when you found Sihtric still at home after you had woken up.

'My phone was gone again and when I found it, it was dead, I can't make any fucking breakfast because the stove keeps switching off whenever I leave the kitchen, and my fucking car key is bent out of shape!' he spat, 'I emailed Finan to let him know I'm not coming into work today.'

'Oh, okay,' you said, 'so, you're just home because you had a bad morning?'

Sihtric didn't answer and just stared out the window while sitting on the couch.

'Honey,' you said, 'we really need the money-'

'I know!' Sihtric snapped, 'I know we need the money! But something's… something's not right!'

'What do you mean?' you asked, 'w-with us?'

'No, not us. This house! Something is wrong with this house!' he yelled.

'It's an old house,' you scoffed, 'are you surprised-'

'No, not like that, sweetheart,' he exhaled sharply, 'I just… fuck,' he jumped up, 'I'm going for a walk.'

While Sihtric was out, clearing his head, you had gone upstairs to work in your little home office. Again you were taunted by the noises stuck in your head from your previous apartment. The sounds had only seemed to intensify the past few weeks, but the odd thing was that whenever you truly focused on the noise, it disappeared. But when you were working the noise was constantly there, driving you insane because it sounded so real and you couldn't explain it.

When Sihtric came back after a few hours you argued again. You had gotten angry about Sihtric's phone being broken and told him he had to pay more attention to his belongings, as you simply didn't have the money to replace everything right away. Sihtric got mad because he never broke things on purpose, and he did not mess with things he needed every day, like his phone or his car keys. After the heated argument you prepared dinner in silence. And you were both calm again when you sat at the table together.

'Sihtric?' you asked during dinner, 'have you heard any noises here?'

'What kind of noises?' he asked and stuffed his mouth with potatoes.

'Like… running,' you said cautiously, 'or voices?'

Sihtric furrowed his brow, 'What do you mean?'

'It's like… when I'm working, I keep hearing those kind of noises,' you explained, 'it's almost like we're still living in the apartment building. That kind of noise.'

'But that kind of noise is impossible, love,' Sihtric sat back, 'we don't have any direct neighbours.'

'I know, that's why I'm asking. It just… it feels like I'm going insane or something,' you chuckled, 'because I can't explain it. I guess it's like what happened to you with the stove.'

'How do you mean?'

'When I focus on the noise or try to figure out where it's coming from, I don't hear it anymore. The same way you told me you kept looking at the stove and it didn't switch off. But as soon as you stop paying attention, the problem returns again.'

'Huh,' Sihtric scoffed, a little concerned, 'but how is that possible?'

'I don't know.'

'And where does it sound like the noises come from?'

'From the attic,' you said, 'but I don't want to go up there, because the light doesn't work.'

'I know, I still need to fix that,' Sihtric sighed, 'I'll have a look tomorrow, okay? The running noises could just be old pipes that rattle. Like you said earlier, it's an old house.'

'Yeah,' you agreed, 'I guess you're right,' you smiled, and Sihtric kissed your forehead as he thanked you for the dinner.

'Do you think buying this house was a mistake?' he asked after a while.

'What? No. Why? Do you?'

'No,' he said, 'well, I mean… I… we've been arguing a lot since we moved here, haven't we? We never used to be like that.'

'I guess,' you agreed, 'but we're under a lot of stress too, Sihtric. We put all our money in this house. But still, I'm glad we live here. The house is amazing, but I think we're just getting caught up over little things we can't explain. We've never lived in a place this big before. It's not uncommon to misplace things, have a faulty stove, a bath that unplugs and to hear some sounds I suppose. We still have to get used to it.'

'Maybe,' Sihtric said, 'but what about my key being bent?'

'I don't know,' you shrugged, 'maybe you sat on it with that big butt of yours?'

'Hey,' Sihtric scowled, but then chuckled, 'I don't know,' he became serious again, 'I definitely didn't sit on it, and I also did not put my phone in the fridge.'

When you went to bed that night it was once again incredibly cold in the bedroom. You had switched on the heating but that didn't change anything. The room was freezing cold, but if you'd touch the radiator you'd burn your hands. You got under the sheets and not much later Sihtric joined you. He also complained about how cold it was but you were both too tired to argue about it, and you both fell asleep.

Hours later you woke up out of nowhere. You glanced at the clock and saw it was a little over three in the morning. You yawned and pulled the sheets up again as your shoulders were exposed to the cold room. And moments later the sheets suddenly got pulled off you with force.

'Sihtric, what the fuck?!' you shouted, angry, cold and tired, 'what the fuck are you doing?!'

'What?' Sihtric asked, startled as he woke up by your yelling, 'what did I do?' he rubbed his eyes and yawned, then shivered as he realised there was no blanket covering him anymore, 'where's the-'

'Did you not pull it off me?' you interrupted in the dark.

'What?'

'Did you pull the blankets off me?'

'I- what? No!' Sihtric hissed, and switched on a light, 'what are you talking about? Why would I-' he stopped talking as he looked at the floor.

You followed your husband's gaze and froze when you saw the bed sheet was on the floor, near the closet, at the opposite side of the bedroom.

'I can't fucking believe this,' Sihtric huffed the next morning when you met in the kitchen, after a horrendous night.

'What?' you yawned.

'This!' he said and held up the charger of his new phone, which was split in two.

'What the… how?' you frowned.

'I have no idea,' Sihtric threw the cable on the table, 'I'm fucking done. What the fuck is going on here?'

'I don't know, ghosts?' you tried to make light of the situation.

Sihtric glared at you.

'Don't joke about those things!'

'Sorry, mister superstitious,' you mumbled, 'hey, will you check that attic by the way?'

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric sighed and grabbed a flashlight, 'I'll do it before I go to work.'

'Thank you,' you kissed his cheek and he went on his way.

You sipped your tea in the kitchen, trying to stay awake after you had been up since three in the morning. You had been too afraid to sleep again and had clutched onto the bed sheet until morning came. Sihtric was brave enough to grab the blanket off the floor after the weird event, and he managed to fall asleep afterwards again, but you hadn't. And now you were paying the price.

Sihtric climbed up the steep attic stairs and clicked on the flashlight. He looked around the dusty place and took a closer look at the pipes, seeing if they were in need of replacement. But everything seemed fine and he had no idea what else could cause the noise you heard while you were working. When he turned to climb down the stairs again he suddenly saw a box in the otherwise empty attic, and he grabbed it.

As you sipped your tea you suddenly heard your husband storm down the stairs.

'Is this fucking funny to you!?' he shouted as he neared the kitchen, and you perked up.

'What?'

'This!' Sihtric snarled, and threw his attic find in front of you on the table, 'did you plan this? You know I don't trust these things!'

You stared with big eyes at the old and nearly falling apart Ouija board box, which you had never seen before. And when you looked up at Sihtric, completely deprived of colour, he immediately knew that you were as spooked as he was.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @liandav

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #modern!sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

73 notes · View notes

thedemonofcat · 6 months

Text

Modern Au:

Geralt and his daughter Ciri were walking through a busy flea market on a sunny day. Amongst the various items on display, Ciri noticed an old-fashioned camera with a weathered exterior, which piqued her interest. She approached the vendor and bought the camera.

Upon returning home, they carefully examined the camera. Its dusty lenses revealed a forgotten past. Geralt inspected the worn leather casing, and a flood of memories surged through him. This camera was once wielded by his former lover, Jaskier, and now lay in their hands as a relic of bygone days. Jaskier, a rising star in the music scene, had vanished without a trace years ago, leaving behind a void in Geralt's heart and unanswered questions in Ciri's mind.

They looked at Jaskier's photographs, piecing together the fragments of his life. Yet, amidst the laughter and applause, there lingered a shadow of mystery over his disappearance.

Geralt and Ciri set out to solve the mystery surrounding Jaskier's fate, aided by memories captured on an old camera.

42 notes · View notes

isaut · 5 months

Text

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓— f!reader x captain rex. 6.7k. ao3

coincidence number two: you're running errands. he's a civilian for the afternoon. previous. masterlist.

You make your reward purchases before your necessity purchases. They are of the same vein— the new lip gloss tube and new mascara will serve their purpose when your currents run out. The record you’d found at the vintage store was warm and vibrant, welcoming to the ear. They’ll stun and impress at the next cocktail hour you host.

It would have been a crime to part without it.

Just as it would have been a crime to not part with the extra gelato that hadn’t been on your grocery list, to have exited the grocery store without your arms over flowing with bags. Flowers spill from the top of one of them— pink and white and orange for your kitchen table. When you get home you’ll combine them all in one of those artisanal vases you’ve acquired from more flea markets than you can count.

Marauding as a civilian, Rex spends his afternoon off wandering the streets of Theed. He knows upon any close inspection he’s anything but, but the day is young. The sun is nearly high in the afternoon air, casting the streets in a harsh glow. The fountains trickle consistently, the water gleaming under said beams. Mothers sit on the edge of the stone, careful to not get their skirts wet, while their children run around.

The oncoming lunchtime is signaled by elderly folk dressed in expensive linens eating their lunch on the iron wrought chairs outside of their favorite bistros and cafes. Rex’s gaze lingers over their habits, over the way they seem so at ease with each other.

He’s not looking where he’s going.

With your gaze turned towards the sliver of sea visible through the buildings, you collide straight into an unfamiliar body.

“Oh! Pardon me,” you say quickly, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Rex says, voice melted by the late spring sun.

The sunlight illuminates Rex directly, making his hair seem blonder and his skin darker. His eyes are all amber encrusted, sparkling in the light. In turn, the sun has haloed you, showcasing your aura around your body, from the natural frizz of your hair to the bronzed shine on your shoulders.

“Oh.” “Oh.”

Rex’s brows pinch together in recognition, just as yours furrow. His lips form a perfect little ‘o’ as yours pull down on the corners. Surprise morphs to disappointment.

“You never called me,” is the first thing out of your mouth, once you recognize who you’re talking to.

“I–” Rex can’t seem to find the words. Have you always had a mole on your cheekbone? A trifecta of them on your shoulder? Rex clears his throat, snapping himself out of his reverie. It had been dark when he was with you last, after all. “I would, but comms are monitored at work.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that excuse,” you sigh.

“No, no, I’m being honest,” Rex says, all too quickly. He ignores the little voice in his head that reminds him that if he had wanted to, he could have easily arranged for a secret call. That he knows all the right people for that to happen. “Really. And work’s been real busy.”

You don’t look impressed. Your eyes rake over his body, both out of irritation and to remind yourself why you had been so keen on getting a call in the first place. “Has it been?”

Yes. There had been rebel groups on the Outer Rim that needed the Republic’s help with fending off the Separatists. Not only had Rex been off station, he’d been off communications with everyone. “I’m no liar.”

Your gut– which has an eighty twenty chance of being right– seems to confirm this information with you.

“No?”

Rex shakes his head. “If I’m bein’ honest, I’m not smart enough to be a liar.”

That has you twisting your lips to squash down a smile. Your gut, the same eighty twenty one, tugs and tells you that he’s lying about that one, though.

He’s cuter in the daylight, your brain supplies you with. Then: He didn’t call you.

“Well, I should get going,” you say, shaking your hair out of your face. “Um, it was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The words roll off Rex’s tongue before he can stop them. He calls your name after you, with a simple request: “Wait.”

Oh, he remembers your name. You turn your attention back to him. He’s caught it again. Your grocery bag digs uncomfortably into your arm.

“Let me get you lunch. As an apology for not calling.” His eyes seem softer in the harsh light, a please behind bronze irises.

“I have to take my groceries home, I have sorbet.”

Rex glances at your bags before coming back to your face. “Let me carry it for you, then.”

There’s a part of you that wants to put up a fight. Say you’re a big girl, that you can do it by yourself. That he blew it when he didn’t call you back. Instead, you feel something tug at the back of your mind. Something that you can’t quite place. So you sigh, so you shrug the canvas bag off your shoulder and pass it over to him. What harm can come? He’s already been there.

Rex accepts the bags as if they’re made of feathers. He adjusts them all to make sure he has a good grasp on everything. It’s all rather seamless. You linger to admire for a moment.

“After you,” Rex says.

The comment snaps you back to the present moment.

Your eyes linger on him one last time, before you adjust your purse and lead him down the cobblestone roads.

“So, what work have you been doing?” You ask, making quiet conversation as you walk.

“Classified information,” Rex replies.

You hum. “Communication is monitored, classified information… You must be pretty high up on the chain.” You lift your hand to eye level to demonstrate.

“I am,” Rex confirms. “‘S not much to talk about though.”

“Well, it sounds like you can’t talk about a lot of it.” Your voice is light at the comment. “So what can you talk about?”

Shit. What can he talk about? Rex thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “I guess not much.”

“Shame. What are we going to talk about over lunch?” You unlock the gate to the courtyard, then climb the stairs to your apartment.

“I’m reading a book on military strategy,” Rex supplies, watching as you unlock the door. “But I don’t think that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Does your whole life revolve around work?” You ask, posing the question once you’re in the kitchen.

Yes. As a matter of fact, it does. His whole reason for existing revolves around work.

The sorbet slides into an empty spot in the freezer. The flowers replace old ones in a vase. Your kitchen table has an open magazine on it and a data pad. It feels like only yesterday he was in here, and maybe that’s because yesterday he woke from a dream that took place here.

You’d made him coffee. Placed it in front of him with a kiss to his forehead. He woke to a battle alarm going off.

Lunch is taken at a little cafe with a white awning. You know the worker behind the counter well, enough to be on a first name basis with her, as you order. You know the restaurant well enough that you immediately head to the outdoor area, taking a seat so you’re still able to people watch and enjoy your company.

“You must go to lots of places all over the galaxy,” you note, watching as Rex pours water for you both.

“Nowhere too fun,” Rex says, taking his seat.

Unimpressed with the answer, you take a sip of water. “Where was the last place you went, then?”

Rex debates if it’s classified information. It’s already happened, it’s not as if he’ll be returning anytime soon. And either way, you’re a pacifist. Not like you’ll go running to the Separatists with old news.

“Ryloth,” Rex says. “What I was doing there, though—”

“Is classified,” you finish for him. “That’s fine. What’s it like?”

“It’s hot. Wet, too. Even in the desert. The atmosphere holds water in it like a sponge, so as the jungles produce water, it seeps into the atmosphere. And that’s how it rains in the desert areas and why it feels wet all the time even if it’s dry.”

“I didn’t take you for an environmentalist.”

“‘S just interesting.” Rex tries his hardest to downplay his knowledge.

“I think it’s interesting too. Two years ago we had a twi’lek from Ryloth showcase his work at the gallery. All of his art was drawn with the different clays found there.”

“There are a lot,” Rex says. Some of it is even flammable. He watches with rapt attention as you fumble around in your purse for your sunglasses.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, the sun is just really bright,” You say, holding them open and with the leg near your lips.

“We can swap spots if you’d like,” Rex offers in a heartbeat.

“No, no. I like the sun. It’s like I’m photosynthesizing.”

Rex thinks it’s an apt description. If you were a flower, you’d be the prettiest one. He doesn’t know much about botany, but he thinks you’re comparable to an orchid. Maybe the cattleyas, with their delicate, ruffled petals that match the flow of your hair. Or the oncidiums, which look exactly like women dancing where the blooms join together. Or even the laelias, with star dripped petals that resemble legs spread—

“I don’t get a whole lot of sun,” Rex says, stopping his train of thought.

“That’s a shame. Why not?”

“Normally on a fleet ship.”

You lean forwards. “What’s space like?”

Rex blinks. “Have you never been?”

You shake your head. “No.”

The idea baffles Rex. Only staying on one planet for an extended period of time? For a lifetime? It was unfathomable to him. Your food arrives, as he ponders over how different your life is from his. Then again, perhaps in a different life, he’d like to stay in one place. Especially if it was a planet as nice as Naboo.

“So, what’s it like?” You press.

“It’s… Well. It’s big. Really quiet.”

“What about the stars?”

“There’s lots of ‘em. Really tiny. Looks kind of like static.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “I’ve always wanted to get off the planet. I’d love to travel… My friends and I had a trip planned to Coruscant but we could never agree on dates to go.”

“Between you and me, it’s not all that exciting. I mean, it is exciting, but it’s… Loud. Visually and audibly.”

“We just wanted to go clubbing,” you confide.

Rex chuckles. “I stand corrected, you would probably enjoy it.”

“But honestly, the travel scares me. Hyperdrive? Terrifying. I don’t even like to go on the boats here.” The admittance feels silly. Who doesn’t dream of intergalactic space travel?

“Really?”

You nod seriously. “Nowhere I really want to go that I can’t get to on foot.”

Oh, that’s endearing. “And where do you usually take yourself?”

“Not many places I haven’t seen you at.”

Rex chuckles nervously. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m a creature of habit.”

Your eyes descend down to his plate— He’s barely touched his chicken and rice. It’s good, you’ve had it before. Not your favorite thing on the menu, it’s no pesto before you, but it’s good.

“Do you not like it?” You ask, gesturing towards it with your fork.

Rex glances down. “No, I do. It’s just… it’s too good.”

Normally too good implies that it’s deserving of scarfing down the first serving and savoring the second. You wait, expectantly, for elaboration.

“Compared to rations it’s… I don’t like to tempt myself. Remind myself what’s out there.”

You blink at him. “Really?”

“Makes it easier.”

Rex doesn’t do temptation. He doesn’t indulge in local meals filled with seasonings— the cumin and the masala that Jesse lunges after when he’s on a planet. Fried foods, fresh and sizzling and on a skewer are something that he watches, mouth watering against his will, while Fives and Tup eat as much as they can afford. He doesn’t do top shelf liquor, he doesn’t do liquor at all. He only drinks the beer that’s brought to him.

You think back to the conversation from last time. No pretty women. No art. Now, no food. No good food at least. You doubt military food is very good.

“I would have thought that you would want to indulge. Do you want to try mine?”

Rex also doesn’t do hook ups. Not typically. Not unless a mission’s gone really bad, not unless he wants to bury himself out of the pain only to lie in it uncomfortably. He doesn’t do coffees after, he doesn’t do run-in lunches.

“Sure,” Rex says. You push your plate toward him, and he reaches over and takes a forkful. Normally the motion is done over a steel table under fluorescent lights, when the rations are especially bad and it’s important to have everyone join in on the misery.

Once more: It’s too good— fresh basil and lemon. Rex shouldn’t have taken a bite. He wants another. He wants another.

“You should let yourself indulge,” you say, pushing your plate further towards him.

He takes another bite. “What are you doing after this?”

“Laundry,” you answer truthfully. “And then I was going to paint.”

“You paint?”

Before you can stop yourself, the words are leaving your mouth: “Do you want to come by and look?”

Rex needs to be back at base in two hours. He’s been entrusted by his General to escort Senator Amidala back to Coruscant. Then, he’s been entrusted by his General to get back on the battlefield, witness more death and destruction and lovelessness.

“I can spare a few minutes.”

Rex tries your wine before he leaves. The crisp notes dance along his tongue, citrus and gooseberry fermented to perfection. He takes one last bite of his chicken, moist and juicy, and rice, soft and flavorful.

The last time Rex had been in your apartment, it had been by the guidance of the moon. Then, scattered from the dutifulness of his mission with your groceries. Now, under the relaxed sunlight, he has a better view of the intricacies of your railing, the floral swirls soldered together. The fountain in the center of the apartment courtyard bubbles and flows. The mosaics of the tiles are clear in the light: blues, greens, oranges, stark against the light grout.

Your keys join the others in the little tray by the door. Your shoes come off, as do his, and the two of you head through your apartment. There are paintings Rex passes that he hadn’t recognized the last time he was here. Not that he was looking, by any means. His attention had instead been focused on you.

But the paintings. They’re watercolor and oil, still life and landscapes encased behind class in treated dark oak frames.

The doors to your balcony are open. Sea breeze filters up from the ocean through the doors, rubbing against the sheer curtains like a playful, large kitten. You get good sunlight in your apartment. It warms the room with both light and atmosphere, streaming in through the windows.

“Are you not worried about bugs?” Rex asks.

You turn around to face him. “Bugs?”

“Yeah. With the…” He gestures at the open doors.

“We don’t live near a swamp. And anyways, it costs too much to run the air conditioning.” You turn back towards the doors and head out through them, letting Rex trail behind you.

Suddenly a spark of nervousness crawls through you. You play with your fingers, glancing out over the quartier of Theed you live in. Then, you gesture towards your painting where it’s leaned against an easel with a now dry watercolor palette beside it, suddenly feeling silly. Why would some random man– because Rex is still some random man– care about your art?

“Well. This is what I’m working on right now,” you say.

Rex first notes the craftsmanship of the worn easel. The natural grains in it. The only metal being the small hinges. The painting, however, is another story entirely.

“It’s pretty,” Rex says. The watercolors are delicate dabs of life. You’ve captured what must be the sunrise over your little neighborhood view. The blue-hued warmth spreads over the delicate buildings, creeping over inked lines.

He doesn’t have much else to say. It’s pretty. The flowers are larger.

“It’s really pretty,” Rex repeats.

Your cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

You glance over at the painting, then over at Rex, hesitantly. His gaze slowly leaves the painting to meet yours.

“I wish I had better words to convey how pretty it is.”

You swallow under his gaze.

“Pretty is just fine,” you say, “I remember: no art. No pretty woman, no dancing either.”

Rex feels his face warm. The tips of his ears go pink. “There’s more to me than that.”

“I’m saying it as a reason why you can only describe it as pretty.” It, because you don’t want to presume he was talking about the painting. Part of you hopes that he wasn’t only talking about the ink. Part of you hopes he was also talking about you before him. “Do you want something to drink? I can make you espresso.”

Rex watches with rapt attention as you twirl a piece of your hair around your finger. He forgets, in his gazing, to reply.

“I also have limeade. That is, if you can spare the time.”

He can absolutely spare the time. “It’s whatever you want to make.”

You check the analog watch on your wrist. Delicate, your chosen color of jewelry.

“Let’s have espresso. I’ll make us double shots, it's just a little too late to take a nap.”

The prospect, the idea, of napping is a new one to Rex. He’s never had one offered to him, never seen one ever partaken in. Meditation over naps. One could sleep when they were no longer part of this world.

Sitting back at your kitchen table, Rex watches with great interest as you make the shots. You have specific mugs you let the brew pour into, and specific saucers you rest them on. From the pantry you receive two sweet looking cookies, setting them on the saucers.

Saucers in hand, you look over at Rex. His fingers are lightly feeling a flower petal between them, thumb rubbing over the soft, colorful leaves. Cut at their base to decorate the water vase, the monochrome flowers are a quiet accent to the brightness of your kitchen and the appliances within. You almost don’t want to disturb him.

“Let’s have them on the couch,” you suggest, voice as gentle as seafoam. Rex’s gaze immediately flits to you, his hand dropping just as quickly. You watch with fondness. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Rex says. “We don’t have plant life on the station.”

“I have more in the living room,” you say, tilting your head in the direction of the other room. Turning, you head there, letting Rex follow behind you.

The saucers are set atop mosaic tiled coasters on the coffee table. You busy yourself in front of the stereo, picking through albums until you find one for the mood, sliding the record from its case and resting it upon the disc. Acoustic bossa nova fills the room. Crossing the space, you cross your legs on the couch, letting Rex take the cushion right beside you.

Your knees barely touch. It causes your breath to hitch, just ever so faintly, in the back of your throat.

“It’s called a monstera deliciosa,” you say, in reference to the subject of Rex’s gaze: the large, green beast of a plant in the corner of your living room. It’s almost too big for the space, despite the fact that– “It won’t stop growing. I keep having to cut off leaves and propagate them for my friends. Or I leave them in cheap little pots on the side of the road for people to take.”

Rex looks at you from over the espresso cup.

“It just won’t stop growing,” you say.

Rex doesn’t know exactly what to say. You must love it a whole lot seems a little too personal. Seems a little too on the nose. It’s pretty seems overused, but it’s what comes out of his lips.

The giggle that escapes you is one you can’t help. You cover your mouth with your hand, holding the sweet little cookie between your fingers. Your hand had originally been on a path to dip the treat into your coffee, but the detour was needed.

“She is.”

You take a bite of the cookie.

“You must love it a whole lot,” Rex says, letting the comment bubble up through him.

Glancing over at the plant, you take her in for a moment. All green stems, fanning leaves with teardrop holes in them, as if gravity was pulling them open.

“I’ve had her since I was in school,” you comment.

Rex reminds himself that it’s a normal thing to go to school. That not everyone is plucked up from a young age to undergo various trainings and trials to make them soldiers– peacekeepers.

“What did you go to school for?” Rex asks.

“Art history,” you say, still looking at the plant. Then, you look back to him. “Then back again for Gunganese art history. And then again, one last time, for a focus on art during the Suffering Period.”

Rex nods.

“Someday there will be an art historian who will study all the art made now,” you note.

“And what do you think she’ll notice?”

Humming, you ponder over the answer. You take a final sip of your espresso. Lean back against your couch. Gaze up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Rex studies your profile like this hypothetical historian will study the present.

“I think she’ll think it’s interesting how war is portrayed,” you finally decide on, turning your head to face Rex. “But we don’t have to talk about that.”

“We can, if you want,” Rex says.

Your eyes flit down to glance at his hands, then back to his face. “Have you looked at art recently?”

Rex has to take a moment to think. He finishes his espresso. “There are some pieces in the Senate building on Coruscant. I’ve never really…” Suddenly he feels embarrassed. “I’ve never really paid a lot of attention to them.”

“Are they boring?” You ask. Then, coming to your own conclusion: “I bet they are. All the good art on Coruscant comes from the lower levels.”

“I thought you’d never been?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve acquired art from there. It’s all so… If it comes from the upper levels, it’s too perfect. The stuff from lower tells a story. There’s real emotion there.”

“How come?”

You shrug. “No idea.”

Rex nods. “I have a brother who likes art. He draws on napkins and stuff.”

“With a pen?” You ask, a little surprised.

Rex nods again. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know they had those on ships,” you say, the words leaving your lips before you realize how ignorant you must sound. No reason not to dig the shovel in a little deeper. “I thought everything was done with holograms and screens.”

“Yeah,” Rex chuckles a bit at that. “Most of it is. At least ninety-eight percent of it. The other two percent is Tup drawing.”

“He must draw an awful lot to make up for two percent of all the activities up there.”

We all have our hobbies would be a lie. “He doesn’t get a lot of sleep. Or, he doesn’t get as much as he should.”

You rest your arm over the back of the couch, head against your knuckles and shift your entire body to face Rex. “That’s kind of the essence of art, though. Finding time for it no matter what. I bet she’ll be studying whatever she can find of his work.”

Rex doesn’t mention that it would all look like he’s drawn the same person over and over again. Instead, he mirrors your position.

“Really?”

You nod. You glance at his chest, then back to his face. “Yeah. I’m almost certain of it.”

Rex moves his hand to rest on his knee.

“Do you like my living room or my patio better?” You ask.

“Hm?” Rex’s eyes seem to go into focus again, as if you’ve called him back to the present.

“Do you like my living room or my patio better?” You ask again, no hard feelings.

“I think they both have their own pros,” Rex says.

“Do they have cons?”

“No,” Rex says, quick to shoot that question down.

A smirk pulls up at the corner of your lips. Just barely noticeable. “No?”

Rex shakes his head. They’re not on a cruiser light years in the sky. They happen to be yours. Safe from the spoils, or lack thereof, of war. And he’s been enjoying his time with you. All two times he’s met you.

“C’mere,” you murmur, reaching your hand out for him. Your fingers are just out of reach of his collar. “Did you know that coffee is a slight aphrodisiac?”

Rex takes in your lidded eyes, your widening pupils. “Only slight?”

Your gaze dips to his lips, his collarbones, his eyes.

“Only slight?” Rex prods, leaning forwards. Your fingers catch on his collar, pulling him closer.

You nod. Rex doesn’t stop leaning in.

Rex enjoys himself.

He’s laid over you on your couch, leg slotted between yours. One of your hands is on the side of his face, able to feel his jaw work as his lips pass over yours. The wind brushes through your open balcony door, sprawling over his back. There’s slow, lazy music playing on your stereo, and your bodies move in time with it.

The urgency that Rex should be moving with is nowhere to be seen. His hips roll against yours lethargically, and one of your legs is thrown over his hips. There’s coffee and sweet cookie on both your lips, slipping and sharing between taste buds.

Each pass of his clothed and poorly concealed hardness causes gravity to pull your legs wider, the universe eager for your pleasure. It’s been years since you’ve indulged in the pleasures of the body while the sun was still out, and it’s better than you remember it being.

Perhaps it's because Rex takes up space. He consumes you, soap and faint shaving cream infiltrating your senses. You wonder if it’s too heady to be taken in the middle of the day. If you’re too grown, if that’s something that only teenagers do when their parents aren’t home.

“When do you have to leave?” You ask, pulling back just a millimeter from his lips.

Rex glances over at the analog clock sitting on your mantle. “Forty minutes.”

You place a hand on Rex’s chest, gently pushing him back. Rex slides back, sitting on his knees. Worry flashes in his eyes, brows furrowing.

“Gonna go grab you a condom,” you say.

Rex’s ears go pink. “Really?”

“Unless you have objections.”

Rex doesn’t have any objections. The only thing he can object to is the lack of time— only forty minutes. Less, truly, because he has to be walking out the door in forty minutes. Now, thirty-nine.

You return, little foil between your fingers.

Before you can sink to your knees between his legs, Rex’s hands are on your waist and maneuvering you to sit on the couch beside him.

Before you can question his actions, Rex’s lips are back on yours. His hand slides over yours, taking the packet from you. With his hand on your back, he gently lowers you backwards against the couch.

Bunching your skirt up, you expose yourself to him. Your panties are embarrassingly dark, damp at your core from just a little bit of kissing.

Rex has that look on his face, the one where his brows are pinched and his mouth is slightly open as if he’s both shocked and deeply appreciative to be in this situation. His thumb drags over the growing wet patch, and his brow furrows.

You’re shaven. Velvet soft.

“What happened?” He asks.

In turn your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re… You shaved.”

“I’m waxed.”

Rex blinks at you. You sit up on your elbows. “I went on a girls trip to the beach. So I got a wax beforehand. I got back in yesterday.”

It’s more information than Rex needs. He simply nods.

“What?” Insecurity begins churning in your stomach, taking over the heat that had been building. Rex’s eyes flit up from your cunt.

“Nothing,” he says, fingers dipping under the waistband on your panties. He slides them down, sighing upon seeing your exposed pussy. He’s missed this. He’s been thinking about it, been thinking about you.

You giggle. “Have you been?”

Rex’s eyes widen. “Did I say that out loud?”

Grinning, you nod. “Yeah, you did.”

A ruddiness fills Rex’s face as he flushes. “Didn’t mean to.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” you admit, though you feel your body warm in embarrassment at the statement. There was a reason you were so insistent to feel him inside you again.

Humming, Rex runs his hands on the insides of your thighs, pushing them further apart. “Really?”

You nod. You wrote about it in your diary.

Rex doesn’t share that he’s thought about you so loud it’s earned him more than one reminder about Jedi sensitivity from his General. The last being on an airship after a battle. General Skywalker had bumped him on the shoulder, mumbled that he could hear him.

He doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Rex’s lips glide over yours, his tongue dancing in the tang of your pussy. Your fingers rack over his hair, scratching at his head. His tongue swirls around your clit, lips closing in after it.

Essence escapes from your cunt, trickling down your smooth skin. Soft moans escape from your lips, floating into the warm air.

Your body hungrily accepts the finger that slides inside you. Sitting up on your elbows, you want to watch, watch this mysterious man who’d rather be on his knees at work. His brows are furrowed in concentration. You squeeze around his finger and he moans into you. You wonder if he’s also gotten ahead of himself, if his mind also races forwards, thinking about the next instead of the present.

It’s loud, all the slick and saliva swimming together. Rex’s tongue is dutiful and steady, his fingers working in tandem.

Rex’s eyes crack open to gaze up your body. He ends up meeting your heady stare, the rise and fall of your chest. He pulls away, his fingers still working in those easy motions.

“Come here,” you beckon, pulling the hemline of your shirt up to expose your breasts. You haven’t forgotten the array of hickies you were left with, the days of forgoing low cut tops.

Rex seemingly misunderstands, instead shooting straight for your mouth. He swallows a moan, one that bubbles out of you as his fingers continuously beckon your closer towards a climax.

A third finger slips inside you when his lips finally wrap around an under stimulated nipple. You groan through a bitten lip, arching your back into him, hips rolling into his hand. It feels good. So much better than your own. Thicker. Longer. Better reach.

Better than your friend’s slender fingers after a drunken dinner on the beach. Rex seems to remember you. Remember all the crevices inside your body, remember the basics of what you like. Like he’s been replaying that night in his head, like a poet and their haiku.

“Rex, please… Want you inside…” you insist through a sigh, squeezing around his fingers.

Rex lifts his head. “But you haven’t cum yet.”

Your jaw goes slack. Rex’s cock throbs at the plumpness of your lips, puffy from biting.

“It’s polite,” Rex elaborates.

“We don’t have very long,” you reply. “Next time you’ll call me and—” Your breath hitches as Rex’s fingers grind into you, curling upwards. “—and we’ll have more time.”

“Next time?” Rex likes the sound of that. He slowly removes his fingers, and brings them to his lips. It’s utilitarian, the way he’s after the taste. But he has to commit it to memory— He isn’t sure there will be a next time, that there will be a phone call. But now, the sun is soft and you’re sweet on his tongue and on his eyes.

You nod to answer his question. One of your legs slides off the couch as you sit up, grabbing the condom off the table.

“I wanna do it,” you say, eager to feel the weight in your hand.

Rex chuckles, enamored and a little self conscious, at your enthusiasm. His pants and briefs find their way onto the floor and he takes his shirt off for good measure too.

Your eyes linger on his dog tags, glinting in the afternoon light. Instead of calling attention to it, you take his cock in your hand, all warm and heavy, and swipe your finger over the head, through the pearly bits of precum crying there.

Rex gasps. His chest heaves, rising up and down as an arm stretches across the back of the couch.

You want to kiss it. Kiss the fat tip, let your tongue lace through the seam. But you had tried to earlier, wanted him salty in your mouth so he’d be relaxed, and had been, quite kindly, redirected.

So you pump him once. Twice. Three times for luck. The condom glides on, sucking against him. Almost too small.

Rex takes you on your back, with one leg lifted above his shoulder and the other hanging off the couch. His movements are shallow and even, pressing you further and further towards the armrest. His dog tags swing in your face and you’re caught with the unexpected urge to bite them.

Rex glances from you, out the open patio doors. A few birds flock along the horizon. The sun is setting. He sits back, hand resting on your thighs and watching intently as your breasts bounce with every thrust.

He glances over at the clock on your mantle. Fifteen minutes. He swears to himself. This is why he doesn’t like quickies— He wants to be buried in your warmth for as long as possible.

Taking his tags in his teeth, Rex leans back over you as his thrusts speed up and harden. You cry out in shock, though it quickly warbles into pleasure, as your core tightens in pressure and then suddenly, without warning, snaps. Your legs shake around him, pussy pulsing around his throbbing hardness.

Rex’s mouth opens in surprise, tags dropping. His hips slow as his attention focuses on guiding you down from your high, but you’re quick to shake your head.

“N-no, keep going,” you urge. “Want to feel you cum.”

“But—”

“No buts,” you breathe, hiking your hips up slightly. “Please, it’ll feel so good.”

Rex nods and pics up the thrusts again, returning them to his original speed, the one that had made you cream around him. Your hand travels between your bodies, fingers rubbing desperately at your clit as you feel a second, stronger orgasm approaching.

“I’m going t’cum again,” you warn.

“Fuck,” Rex swears, then quickly apologies. His hand finds purchase on the back of your thigh and presses you open, creating more of a stretch.

You swear this time, brows knitted in pleasure. With each thrust you can feel Rex’s balls, wound tight, slapping against you.

Without thinking, you clap a hand over your mouth as your second orgasm shakes through you. Rex ducks his head, chasing his own high in erratic throats before he moans directly into your breast.

You feel light, like you’re floating. Too light.

You’ve painted Rex’s groin and the v of his abs.

“Sorry,” you breathe.

Rex shakes his head, falling against you. His face rests in the crook of your neck. “Don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches inside of you.

You let out a breathless laugh. With gravity, your head turns to the side and you look at the clock on your mantle. Your cunt throbs around him, and he exhales sharply. There’s a little twitch in response.

Part of you, the dirty naughty part, wishes there was more mess to clean up. For Rex to dip his head down and lap through, for him to—

Your train of thought is cut off by a sudden yet slow loss. Rex eases himself out, hands on your knees. Immediately, your hole pulses at the sudden loss.

“Sorry,” Rex says, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Your heart, once more, flutters.

“‘S fine,” you murmur, tossing an arm above your head. The sun soothes over your body, urging you to close your eyes.

Instead, you watch as Rex disappears into your bedroom, then your bathroom, and returns with a warm washcloth.

It all feels so natural. Just like last time.

His hands are steady as he cleans you up and then himself. He tucks himself back into his pants, then his shirt, then moves to grab your underwear off the ground.

“Leave it,” you say softly. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Oh.”

You move your legs so Rex can sit back down on the couch, then you place them in his lap.

Mournfully, Rex replies with a hand on your shin, “I have to get going.”

“You sat back down,” you point out.

You’re right. He did.

Rex’s hand rests on the inside of your calf, rubbing softly. He bows his head, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of your knee.

“Poor baby,” you murmur, reaching to scratch your nails against his hair. Rex raises his gaze to yours. “Have to go back to work on such a beautiful day.”

The day is beautiful, Rex can agree. It’s gorgeous. Stunning. He presses another kiss into the daylight that streams across your skin.

“Tell me about the rest of your day,” you coo.

If you were a Separatist spy, you’re the best one they have. Rex melts into your words, crawls up your body to place more kisses against the soft skin.

“Just some escorting work,” Rex says. “Easy stuff.”

“No danger?”

“Shouldn’t be any.”

Rex hovers above you. Your lashes glide closed and then open as you gaze down Rex’s body before back up to him. You cup his face in one hand, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone.

“That’s good. Are you going to call me this time?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you promise?” Your voice is almost a purr, your thumb sliding down Rex’s bottom lip.

Rex nods. There’s a hypnotic rhythm to his breath. “I’ll call you. The next time I’m in Naboo.”

“You can send me a text, too.”

“I want to call you.”

You swallow.

“I’ll call you,” Rex promises. He lowers himself slightly, unsure if he’s allowed to get a kiss or not. This is a hook up, right?

Your lips meet his half ways for a long peck.

“Good boy,” you say against his lips.

Rex nods again. “I have to go.”

“I know.” Your breath mingles with his. “You don’t want to go.”

Rex shakes his head, agreeing with you. He doesn’t want to go. You press a brief kiss to his lips.

“I’ll hear from you soon.”

Rex nods. Slowly, he eases off your body, eyes leaving even slower.

“You don’t do this often,” you note.

“No, I don’t.”

You readjust your clothes so you’re decent again. Pantyless, but decent. You sit up on your knees, dancing your fingertips along his ears.

“I’ll walk you out,” you murmur. There’s a feeling in your stomach that he won’t leave on his own.

Rex stands, and your hand dribbles off him, landing in his own. He helps you stand, letting go as soon as you’re upright. It’s a careful walk to the front door, where Rex puts on his shoes and you don’t.

“Bye, Rex,” you say.

Rex returns the departing words, your name rolling off his lips. He turns, steps through the threshold, and heads down the stairs. He’s in the courtyard before you close the door.

#captain rex x reader #a lil fic update #by ophelia #rexlia #ive been sitting on this for so long i just was able to edit it :)#hope you enjoy !

23 notes · View notes

shioritsumi · 2 months

Text

Took me long enough to get to Bingge but he deserves his own post....

-Bingge knew the modern world would be different, but the technology is much easier for him to grasp than he'd thought and a lot of functions of daily life are simple or hardly changed at all. Society, however...it hasn't changed, exactly. Shen Tianyu talks about his divorce and Bingge has to get reminded inflicting random violence upon people isn't legal. "I'm disappointed too, man, but we both have to live with it."

-Bingge needs time to adjust to not being a demon lord and instead just being a tall muscular citizen. Blending into human society isn't something he has recent experience with, and he has to re-learn it.

-Shen Tianyu lives in a penthouse apartment, and Bingge still isn't certain if he likes having to take the elevator so often just to get in and out of the home. "Did you make your kid do this every day?" "Xiao-jiu isn't old enough for school yet, and this was my second home anyways-I stayed here when i couldn't go home since it's much closer to work. Now it's just....home, I guess. What else did you want?"

-Every time Tianyu talks about his marriage, Bingge gets sad. He managed to become demon lord of his realm, he knows what it's like to rule....but Tianyu talks about things as though despite everything he's had very little control over his own life. He loves his son but he didn't personally choose to have kids. He was "strongly encouraged" to go into business, rather than choosing it willingly. Bai Lianhua pursued him first, not the other way around. The more popular a person or competitive the market, the more easily Shen Tianyu could be compelled to join the race for it. Bai Lianhua effectively convinced him to court her by reminding him frequently lots of guys were after her but she was there with HIM.

Bingge is quick to realize this means Tianyu has done very little for himself in his own life. Which sets him about trying to seduce Tianyu in a strange complicated reasoning that he wants Tianyu to choose him of his own free will and not just because he's the all-powerful demon lord lusted over by countless women. How does one court a competitive man with crippling depression when you are the most desirable bachelor in a stallion novel?

(by the way, Tianyu likes Bingge bc he hears all his trauma and just laughs and goes 'mine is worse'. It's like his friendship with Shang Qingshui but better because Bingge knows when to stop.)

-Bingge ends up reading PIDW and is of the opinion the author has never had sex with a woman. Shang Qingshui can vouch for this, and Shen Tianyu thinks they should both think before they open their mouths.

-Bingge ends up finding all the Luo Binghe merchandise and doesn't know how to respond. "It belonged to my brother, but after he died....I dunno, it's a little like still having him around, since he cared about these things so much. My sister has the other half of his collection if you want to see it." Bingge is extra confused and he just inspects the merch because what even IS this. Some of the figures are fully sculpted in every way....EVERY way. His brother BOUGHT these? With his own money? "Well yeah, you were his favorite. I don't blame him."

-The more Bingge is told about Shen Yuan, the more confused he gets. His siblings describe him as smart, with a photographic memory, and decent looks "but he's definitely related to us". Bingge is absolutely concerned by this one. Hanjun seems to be the only sibling with his shit together properly, having started his own nutrition company and doing quite well. They're all possessed of a dark sense of humor, a sharp tongue, and a tendency to get hyperfixated on fictional characters. So what does this mean about the recently deceased Shen Yuan? "Oh come on, I bet you'd like him if you met him!" Bingge.....isn't sure of this.

-fun possible scenario popping up when Hanjun invites both Bingge and Tianyu to his wedding. Bingge swears he's not a maiden, but he definitely stresses out the most about being invited to a wedding for his boyfriend's family like they're a legit real couple and they NEED to make a good impression ("like we're a legit real couple? Bing-er, we ARE a real couple, stop stressing" "NO" ) they need to wear the right clothes, they need to bring the right gift do they need a sword because he has swords.

-Shen Jiuyuan and Bingge have to talk about it once the truth comes out to Bingge. For the longest time they aren't sure HOW to talk about it, and Jiuyuan doesn't want his new dad to know. They can't act like they don't have history, especially history as bad as it is. But this is a brand new life for Shen Jiu, and he has a father who loves and dotes on him endlessly, constantly apologizes when he's wrong and doesn't lecture him overly long when he's rude or violent. (Tianyu recalls being a difficult child himself, and currently figures the attitude and violent issues are just a result of being related to him-Shen Yuan was probably the only Shen son who didn't have a similar childhood and that was the result of having two older brothers.)

They may not necessarily like each other, but they love Tianyu, and he loves them. Over time they learn to tolerate each other and even share a few moments. Bingge is just mildly confused as to how going to a completely different world to find a new better shizun turned into karmic retribution for killing his own shizun. How did things work OUT like this?!?

-Bingge being prepared to hear about Tianyu's childhood full of soft comforts and spoiled luxury and instead he's told about a mostly ordinary upbringing because his family wanted to foster responsibility in their kids. (although they did always have good things and vacations and whatnot available) And Tianyu's stories of his childhood are most stories about being an absolute gremlin when he was a kid. "One time Hanjun had to fish me and A-Qing out of the river, alongside six other people because turns out that peg was important and i got grounded for two weeks." "I threw a snake at Qingshui's head once. We were ten, and in my defense he told my crush Mianmao i had 'snake eyes' so it was karma. He got bitten and i was suspended for a week." Tianyu just pointing to a super tall building and being like "I jumped off that when i was 15."

Turns out his new shizun was an unhinged child, and the only reason Shen Yuan wasn't is because Hanjun had already witnessed it previously and made sure Yuan didn't even have ACCESS to the most unhinged experiences Tianyu made for himself. Bingge silently wonders how he did indeed find someone to match his freak so perfectly, on ACCIDENT.

#svsss au #luo bingge

9 notes · View notes

rise-my-angel · 2 years

Text

Binding Opposing Foes

Pairing: Ezra x Female Reader

Length: 15.1k

Warnings: enemies to lovers, magical fantasy au, only one bed, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, threat of violence, angst with happy ending, hints of a breeding kink

Notes: Made for the lovley @supernaturalgirl20 for the Pedrostories secret santa 💜. The length got away from me as usual, I am so sorry. Hopefully it's something you end up enjoying!

Any hint of peace you awoke with this morning was quickly dashed the second you made it to the market. It was a quiet walk there, through the clearing of trees near your home there was a hint of fog remaining that sat on the forest floor. The air was cool and crisp that was mixed with dew that still dripped from the leaves. You got to enjoy the time it took to get to town only to have it dashed the second you approached your little nook.

The tiny open clearing shoved between two well constructed vendors with fine, rich wood stood out against then soft fabrics hanging down as makeshift walls and one spread onto the floor to cover the stone pathway you occupied. Whatever tables and chests you kept there though, were turned over, tossed around and the tall narrow shelf had been knocked over to forcefully part if it sat in jagged pieces.

The man next to your nook, just arriving had seen the state of your shop and the instant upset plastered all over your face and just chucked before ignoring you once again. You weren’t popular and you knew why, but the other vendors wouldn’t do this. There was only two options as to who would be responsible for it and one of them was quickly approaching, the streak of blonde against his dark hair stood out even from a distance.

If Ezra or his men were responsible for this, at this point you might just give up. Leave town and never come back.

Busying yourself, you now sat on your knees trying to match the broken wood to the remainder of the shelf hoping it wasn’t beyond your ability to fix. You already knew you’d have to repair it yourself, or somehow bargain desperately for a new one and end up dragging it across the market alone anyways.

“Now who would let a misfortune like this fall upon such a prestigious saleswoman?”

You hated when he did this. His polite yet ecliptic vocabulary suddenly turning needlessly formal and condescending as if to mock you for your lack thereof. Glancing up, Ezra stood with an arm resting against the side of the other vendor looking around at the mess. You didn’t need this right now, not from him. “Go away, Ezra.”

You didn’t need to look back up at him to know he grinned at you, the few steps he took inside already putting him rather close to where you knelt. You could see his feet, dirty yet formidable boots just at the bottom of dark trousers the only thing in your eye line.

“Now is that anyway to greet a helping hand?”

Jaw clenching, you refused to give him the satisfaction of having to look up at him from this position, as if he were too good to stand face to face. “What are you gonna do, rip down my rugs from their walls to finish the job? Haven’t you done enough?”

His chuckle that followed infuriated you. He still didn’t even try to meet your eye, instead choosing to pace around the rest of the space inspecting what he could. “Now birdie, you aren’t insinuating that I am responsible for such a mess? I’m insulted, I thought we knew each other better than that.”

Squeezing your eyes tight for just long enough to catch a deep breathe, you opened them only to see the beginnings of the usual early risers wandering into the street. “Why wouldn’t it be you? Either you did it out of spite because I wouldn’t give it to you, or you came looking and trashed everything trying to find it yourself.”

You think he might be directly behind you now, the prickling feeling against your spine that screamed at your vulnerability. “On the contrary, I asked politely if you would be willing to share your goods for a fair trade. Saying no was a valid choice on your part, I have no reason to punish you for it.”

“As if you care about getting permission.” You muttered under your breath but his chuckle would have been warm and comforting if he was anyone else. Ezra side stepped around the shelf and stood at an angle to watch both you and the street.

“I think you’re mistakening me for the only other gentleman petty enough to throw a tantrum such as this.” Ezra knew who did this as much as you did, but blaming him was easier then accepting that the real perpetrator would only escalate from here. “You should be grateful that he still doesn’t know where you live, birdie.”

The sounds of cheery voices got louder as more people trickled into the market, looking to take advantage of the best items and produce before it was picked off. Some of which, started to look your way. Judgmental laughter and whispers that pointed towards you made your eyes sting. You didn’t want to be mocked right now, all you wanted to do was go home, but even then you had to stay and fix your nook. No one else certainly would.

“I have things to do Ezra. We both know you’re not going to help me, so just go rally your men and stampede through the woods or whatever you do.” Alright, that may have been you acting petty this time. You knew what he did for a living in detail just like he did you. It was probably the only reason he was one of the few people who would talk to you in this town, if only to put down your failures for his success

Peeking a glance up, you could see his jaw shifting in thought. His eyes squinting as his head turned up into the rising sunlight, and turn on his heels to leave. Not before suddenly flipping up one of your smallest tables onto its feet, slamming his palm down on the top to show off how unsteady the wobble had become from being tossed over.

A grin once again plastered over his face, he shifted it right in front of you to an innocent wide eyed look. Pointing at the wobbling table as he took his hand off of it, “You should really buy a new one, that’s rather unsafe to have around like this, birdie.”

Ezra didn’t wait for your reply, he knew you wouldn’t. He simply walked out into the market, a light curious look gracing his features as he meandered to other vendors, happily chatting with the likes of who would never give you the time of day.

It didn’t take brains to know that anyone passing by stared at you and whispered to one another as you tried setting everything upright. He was right though. The cheap little tables you owned were in bad shape, the threat of something with any real weight may topple the legs over for good.

The shelf you didn’t know how to fix. Your home was filled with furniture crafted from stone that existed in the cozy hut when you came across it for the first time. You had to plea with the carpenter for days and products of value at least four times greater then the cost of his cheapest work. But you needed something, and that day you had spent the entire afternoon dragging the furniture across the length of the street.

You weren’t quite so sure he would even give you that this time, you were far less liked now than you were then. Most people considered trading with you as cursed, only the ones in specific need or an uncaring courage would even approach you for business.

Even then, they usually traded in spare food or run down fabrics hardly of use to them anymore. Almost never coin. The outsiders or ones passing through town the only ones who bought in coin, but just because they didn’t know of you.

Eventually, you neatly stacked the broken shelf into the back and pushed the tables up against each corner to keep them steady for the remaining day and night until you found a way to fix it.

It was humiliating to leave, your bag of items still strung across your shoulders as full as when you arrived. You were right, the carpenter wanted nothing to do with you. Not even gracing you the privilege of speaking to him inside, rather he elected to lean out the door that was just open enough of fit his body.

You tried elsewhere, offering any trade or coin you had to even buy simple tools to try and fix it yourself, but no one budged. The only people willing to accept anything were produce stands who were constantly flooded with people. It at least let you try and blend in with your quiet asks and gentle payment that you could buy what you could before they realized and told you to get lost.

You chose to do simple foraging for the rest of the day, wandering the patches of field not yet cut down and plowed over by the magistrate. You were always spoiled in lavender here, and it was going to be a sad day when they finally decided to lay it over as more land for his estate.

The sun had set on your journey back. The market empty save for those just passing through in the darkening sky. Chattering and joyous laughter echoed through the stone from the tavern, no doubt the destination of most. Keeping your head down, you only looked up to peek inside your nook to make sure the mess wasn’t back.

In fact it was the opposite. Your tables were gone from the corners and the pathetic pile of broken wood removed. Instead, all set up in the exact way you would lay things out was fresh wood. Walking in you immediately trailed your hand over the tables.

They weren’t just smooth and well carved, they were strong and unmoving. A quality wood was used to make these. And right near your lone stool, sat a shelf. The same woodwork and strength on the make of it, but the shelves now instead of sitting thin and sometimes too high for your reach, they were wider the insides more deep and barley went above your height.

You bit your lip in a contrast of joy and apprehension. This was more than you ever would have asked of these people and it was going to be so wonderful to be able to set everything out so nicely and without accidentally shaking things against the other.

On the other hand, you also didn’t know who did this. You were pretty sure it wasn’t Ezra. He in all likelihood wasn’t the one who threw your stuff around, so he also had no reason to replace it. The only other one who could have done this, would only then replacement as a trick.

If it was him, no doubt the next time you came into town, you’d be summoned to his home, and graced with his generous gift to you only to ask for something in return. But the things he would want you feared. He wasn’t a kind man or even just a good one. Just selfish and greedy with no regard as to how he got what he desired.

The magistrate was not to be trifled with, and not only had you on too many occasions made an enemy of him, but he also had no qualms about his glee from extracting revenge. Ezra wasn’t much different, but at least you were confident enough his revenge for you would be more akin to sabotage then physically harming you. Either way, you walked much quicker home then normal. Checking around you many times to see if you were followed.

By the time you arrived it was pitch black. If someone had been watching you, they wouldn’t be able to get in was the only assurance you had. Your palms were pushed up against the wooden door, only turning your head enough to look out at the darkness around you.

You never could see it yourself, but you felt it. Almost like a shock, a pulsating wave of energy surged through them was the only indication you had of what you were doing. To any onlookers, they would just see a strange golden glow flash over your eyes, and a ripple of the same gold quickly flash around the perimeter of your home like a fire. It flashed into existence in an instance, and circled around your hut and disappeared just as quick the further it went. Like a tail following the light.

You finally went inside, and the only evidence of life to be seen was the gentle orange flow of light peeping through the closed shutters. Your only solace within the small space, but enough to keep your heart and mind from spiralling too far.

While leaning over to peer into the fireplace where a large stirring pot hung above the coals, a memory popped into your head. Ezra had approached you one day outside your hut. You had been placing small piles of feed around the backdoor steps, enticing the curious squirrels to come closer to you.

Just as a particularly friendly one was slowly making it’s way close to you, something behind you had startled it away. It was only a second late that the distinct shuffling of feet in the grass had you whip around, wide eyed and almost immediately out of startled breath.

It was the first time you had seen him alone, no large brutish men at his side waiting for any preferably aggressive order. His bright brown eyes gleaned in the sunlight as he took in your small abode. “Hard to imagine such strange and powerful concoctions have been so beautifully crafted in such an unimpressive structure. You didn’t respond, just clenched your hands in the clothes at your side as he turned his head to look at you nonchalantly. “The inside must truly be a wonder.”

He didn’t make a move to go inside, but you shifted just slightly to have a better chance at beating him to the door if necessary. “What I do is none of your concern.”

Ezra smiled, a typical response to your irritation towards him. “Oh quite the contrary, what you do is of great interest to me. Especially when it is my territory you are encroaching on.” Before you even had a chance to speak, he begun pacing around the outside of your small back garden. “Don’t you give me that look, birdie, you know exactly where I am talking about.”

You did, but calling it his territory wasn’t fair. He had no right to claim what was apart of nature. “You can’t just kick me out because you got there first.”

Ezra’s head tilted to the side, a pretend doubt crossing his features before making his pace direct towards you. “You twist my intentions here, I come here not to conquer, but to bargain.” He stood over you, feeling more tall then he likely was.

He was a large man with a broadness to him that took up much of your view. The glint in his deep brown eyes always crafting an agenda he kept to himself. You had once overheard a conversation about certain...endeavours he engaged in, but they had walked away before you learned anything else. So the softness of his features that framed his face so pleasantly made you all the more angry.

“What could you possibly offer me that I’d want?”

Ezra smirked, leaning close enough to feel every exhale. “Protection.”

Looking back on it, you knew he had been purposely vague. You had yet to have any problems with someone other then Ezra and his men, but he knew better. He knew exactly what would start to happen should and when the magistrate learns of your existence but he didn’t even have the courtesy to warn you.

Your face fell further and further into a glare. “I don’t need protection, and I don’t need pity. You take what you need from these creatures by force, I don’t. I have no reason to be fearful from anything except men like you trying to trick me.”

His face didn’t change, at least from a distance. Up close though, his eyes narrowed just the slightest, a darkness brewing in the corners of them that made you uneasy. You couldn’t show it though. “It’s not your talent I’m doubting birdie, it’s your naivety that has me extending an offer.”

The conversation didn’t last much after that. He knew right away that you felt insulted and took more than a few steps back from you, arms out in surrender. “I mean no offence, simply just looking out for a fellow collector such as myself.”

Your head was beginning to hurt, “You don’t collect anything but to willingly hand it over to men somehow worse than you. I don’t create anything harmful with what I have and I don’t need to shed any blood to get it.”

Ezra opened his mouth but you had enough. “Go away. I have things to do, and I don’t want you lurking around for any of it.”

The darker look faded to a discernible one. It was softer and much more downtrodden, but you struggled to put any distinguishable feeling to it. He raised his hands high in almost a wave as he back away. Reaching the end of what you circled out as your land, Ezra looked towards the piles of left over seeds, then to you as you stood perched on the bottom step. “Best be careful with feeding these ones, get them too familiar and they’ll dig into your garden crops like vultures.”

Ezra had been a continuous adversary every since. Always holding his upper hand over you with confidence and leaving helpful hints or tips only to rub in how much better he has fared in the same work you do.

Only now in present times, you had something over him even as small as it was. A little something that made you keep your shutters closed to the world, and create a barrier from any greedy hands from finding out.

The next time either of you ran into each other, the sun was looming low in the sky and you had at least some modicum of success in what you sold. Mostly trades today but enough coin to procure some winter seeds to add to your storage. Surprisingly, you had very little trouble.

The new woodwork was exactly as it was put, you were able to give people their specific requests. Shockingly, most people who wanted to avoid you suddenly were kind and forgiving when they came to you to help with a specific ailment. They didn’t know why your small vials did more to help than anything the town doctor could treat, but when they needed medicine they always came sneaking over to you.

You always did it, no matter who asked you of it and yet it never changed how far they would go to stay away from you afterwards.

It was right as your hut came into view that you saw him. His broad stature leaning up against the stone wall, a troubled look on his face. You paused in your step, staring at him with wide eyes and a heart beating faster and faster. He typically left you alone here, but the sudden feeling of being watched the night before reared its ugly head.

You stepped slowly, looking at him distrustingly despite him never moving. “You. You were watching me last night. Why? Did you hide here or just follow me home?”

Ezra shrugged to himself as he pushed up off the wall. “It’s been a time since I’ve found my way around here, the work you’ve put into this is quite extensive. You should be proud.” There was no threatening manner as he came to a stop in front of you, but his eyes watched you almost like he was caught between the now, and lost in a distant thought. “The protective charm even moreso.”

Panic flooded your veins and swam all the way into your heart. The townsfolk threw cruses of a witch at you, but all baseless accusations. You didn’t know anyone had seen it for themselves. You wanted to step back, maybe run from him but there was no use. He wasn’t done anyways.

“I have something I would like to talk to you about, but I suggest we do this in the privacy of your own home. It pertains to our...line of work.” Ezra's eyes darted around him with a suspicious glean.

“Why would I ever let you in where I live? You’ve never given me any reason I could possibly trust you-”

Ezra stepped into your personal space so quickly you had no time to back away before he was leaning close into your own face. “I’d keep your voice down, birdie. The trees have ears, afterall.”

So what you thought. You had no doubt Ezra likely had men hidden around him no one could see or even know about. “They know what you know anyways just say what you want then leave.” His eyebrows raised almost in warning to play along with something you didn’t know the rules to. “Just get this over with so I can go inside.”

His eyes once again seemed to squint, scrutinizing something behind you before leaning back into your space, a hand finding it’s way to rest on your arm. As you tried to flinch away, Ezra yanked it back with little force as he spoke low and commanding. “Either you let me inside to speak with you calmly, or I can walk away now and let the magistrates esteemed crew of untrained degenerates finally catch up and do it for me.”

You bit your lip, the thought of how they knew where you lived now darting in your brain. He only could have found it if Ezra was the one to tell him. But standing here in your face, he insisted once more.

“Just a short talk, birdie. One collector to another.” It was so fast you almost missed it. A blink of colour swirling through his eyes and gone again, shined bright in your face the glow of gold that you saw in your own doings.

This was something else entirely. He didn’t just know about you, he recognized it from himself. Looking away you tried to peek to the side to see anyone else around but you stood in the front of your hut alone. You didn’t look at him as you nodded, but he let go of your arm as he stood back to proper height.

You hesitated by the door. There was no going back after this, you couldn’t hide what was inside but you had a heavy feeling in your chest that he was here about that very secret. So you unlocked your door, and made just enough room for him to come inside.

Before closing, you peered out to the treeline. Nothing still in sight, but a shimmer of gold trailed itself along the ground anyways.

Locking behind you, you pressed your back against the door fingers tapping at the wood as he strode around. The ceiling not many inches higher then he was, and his broad frame took up much of the space. Peering at the kitchen which mostly consisted of shelves along the wall stocked full of an assortment of things, and the even smaller counters also full with bowls, pots, and anything and everything you needed to store your medicinal liquids.

The most notable part was the large hanging pot set firm in the fireplace with a few chairs surrounded by far too many books on the floor then you were okay with, but it was small. The half shut door to your washroom was just as uninteresting as anyone elses, and the closed door to where you bed lay went unseen by his investigation. You knew Ezra lived in a proper house, on real owned land with space for anything he desired. This must be pathetic in comparison.

“Cozy, very cozy. I am indeed impressed, once again I might add.” The stiff troubled look on his face had almost died completely now that you both were tucked inside your hut, but you still felt rigid wondering when the first noise from your closed room door would become too distinct for Ezra to not hear.

“What do you want, Ezra?” Your voice smaller and weaker then you wished it was.

His fingers trailed over the stone slabs carved into seats of some kind around a carved in table to the wall. “I had a visit from the lovely magistrate himself this morning. He seeked the answer to a question I knew I shouldn’t answer, but I had only just been rudely awoken. I wasn’t quite ready to be so propositioned to early.”

You had yet to move, but your eyes glanced to the door every few seconds as you let him speak. A thing he was always better at then you. “You see, he’s been using my own, creations,” Ezra almost gestured in a silly manner as if subtly hinting at the one thing you both already knew the other did. “He also, has requested your own kinds on more than one occasion, testing the use of both to see if his own, lets say..indiscretions could be better treated. At first there was no one vial better then the other. Our work was equally matched.”

His head looked up to your worry one, but not in mockery, it appeared to be a compliment. You could insult him all you wanted, but he did work just as hard as you to acquire and create your vials of ailment. You also knew where he was going with this story.

“But not long ago, something changed. He would praise my work up and down, each time showering me with gloat and greed for my offering, only to then show me my work he had been using. And find out it was actually yours.” He paced very slowly around the small space once more as he now looked anywhere but you, a deep furrow in his brow as he spoke again.

“Not a very observant man for someone claiming to be as prestigious as he. He was quite rattled by the revelation, and just today has demanded I find out how you’ve done it and either bring you to him myself, or take your work from you by force.”

Unknowingly you had slunk back against the door, trying to make yourself smaller as the stupidity fell over you. Everything should have been so obvious but it wasn’t until now.

His men had always called what they did hunting dragons, but it dawned on you that Ezra never did. He only called what he did collecting, much in the way you just said you collect from the creatures you work alongside of.

Your mixture of slow and steady kindness and finally a shared understanding of over worldly ability, did take what you needed as you left gifts in return. Tales of dragons painted them as fierce destructive creatures but most lived in saved solitude, wanting peace as much as you did.

Something about the almost ethereal bodies of water that sat within the caves held some properties not found in the nature around you otherwise. Their eyes casted gold matching displays of shimmer, and you now realized that it must have reflected in their eyes making you one in the same.

“He doesn’t know about you. That I never spoke of.” You were still pressed up against the door, but Ezra stood in the middle of the room, nonthreatening and doing no more then gently tracing his eyes and fingertips along innocent surfaces. Your muscles were stiff as you pushed off, pulling your bag over your shoulders.

He watched you hang it across the corner of a bookshelf, no real space around you to put it anywhere proper. You weren’t sure you were brave enough to come closer, in fact you weren’t sure you ever wanted to be near him again after this. He knew about you because he was one in the same and yet he continued to align against you for money.

Your voice was quiet, tight and rigid as you almost spoke through your teeth knowing where this tale was headed. “But he wants to know what I’ve done to make my vials so drastically different.” Your eyes met this time, and he appeared a tad guilty for reasons you couldn’t discern. “And you’re here to get that information by force. Right? That’s how your men do all of their work.”

Your body jolted upright as Ezra suddenly stalked towards you, slinking coyfully like a snake for attack. “My men, are merely brutes who once worked for the great magistrate himself. Gifted to me for protection after being gifted the firsts of my work. They work by force, I however, am far more interested in the journey then skipping right to the climax.”

His smirk had a darker tone lurking behind it, but not one of danger. You didn’t know why he was toying with you that way though. Just taking advantage of towering over you in such a small inescapable space. If he heard how hard you swallowed your nerves, he didn’t move or peep a word on it. “I offered you protection once, and by now I’d have assumed you understood it wasn’t from me. Not a quick as you claim you are.”

You wanted to be angry at his condescension, but your brain hazed over with a confusing fog that offered no solace. “Why would you care, you don’t even like me.”

A dark tone remained, but also glazing over with a much more familiar amused grin. “Now when have I ever claimed such a thing, birdie?” He gave a full laugh at your deepening glare. You knew he was toying with you, but why did he have to do it here in the sanctity of your own home?

Ezra had the audacity to reveal a huge secret about him and expose that he knows one of yours, and yet here he stood giving you the same treatment he always has as if nothing’s changed. Unfortunately for you, opportunity struck at the worst time possible.

Tiny chirps echoed from the closed bedroom door, before morphing into squeaky roar like growls as your other secret vied for attention. There was no escaping this one. Ezra of all people, knew exactly what that sound was. His head swivelled to face the door, a curious look spreading across him as he took a step to the side. He faced you but was making his way over.

“Now what on earth I ask, could possibly make such a notable sound hiding away in the only room I have yet to be shown?”

You fidgeted in place, crossing and uncrossing your arms before finally sighing deeply with your head hanging low. “You know exactly what that is.”

Looking back up, Ezra wasn’t looking at you in superiority, nor nefarious and smugly. No he was looking at you in an almost curious awe. He didn’t make any other steps towards your door but neither did you. He was sent here for one reason, and if not for you he’d likely take this as compensation. The magistrate wouldn’t do any good with it. He has no idea how to work with a dragons ability, he’d end up killing it.

Your voice was just a tiny whisper. “You’re just going to take it from me.”

If you didn’t know better you’d say Ezra looked sad, almost shameful for giving you such distrust. He only said two words, and you knew that no matter if you were equally matched, he was bigger and stronger and he would overpower any fight back.

“Show me.”

Chest constricting, you disguised your panic and pounding fear with a steeled, flat gaze. You made the small way to your bedroom door hand paused at the handle and other palm pressed against the wood wishing you could apologize to your companion in advance for what you were bringing in. You felt Ezra presence at your back, but sighed without turning your head to him.

“He’s gentle with me, but please don’t be forceful with him. He panics easily.” The man gave no response and you weren’t sure if it was out of focused curiosity, or he simply didn’t care about your request. Pushing the handle, you walked into the room as you opened the door to see what the fuss was all about.

He was small, still a baby. Not even a foot long in length or even wingspan, and skinny with little scales to show off. His high pitched roars only were able to come out as somewhat of a coo, which purred softly at the sight of you, only to cause him to hiss and fling his small body back against your bed as Ezra came in behind you.

Instantly you knelt down closer to his height on the bed, a shushing noise coming from you. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Come on, it’s alright.” At this point you tried not to help him up, he wanted to do it himself getting used to his wingspan proportioned oddly with his small stature.

Ezra behind you sounded in awe, a tone akin to a dry croak as he whispered with no trace of malice or intent. “How on earth did you secure such a creature?”

Your tiny friend tilted his head at you, making you smile. You sat down on your knees to allow him to hobble up close, communicating in a cooing that you had come to learn was suspicion. Ezra appeared in your side view, but only slightly bent at the knees as his hands rested on them. He seemed to understand the creature was wary of him and didn’t come over to quickly. “This is why you’ve come up with such powerful creations. You’re not just trying to add to their properties, you’re creating alongside them.”

Your friend hopped to look at Ezra with another head tilt. Seemingly taking his respect and curiosity as no hostile intentions. Slowly Ezra bent down more to crouch beside you as you spoke. “Not really them, just this one. I didn’t even realize I had him until I came home one day from the caves. He must have snuck into my bag and hide until he knew it was safe.”

Ezra furrowed his brows as he peered at you without quite taking his eyes off the infant dragon. He knew you weren’t talking about anything you did. The only other humans who dared to venture into a dragons cave was himself and the brainless brawn that had been assigned to assist him. “I was in another cavern then you. I don’t even think you knew I was there. Your men were yelling and screaming somewhere not too for away at what sounded like a very angry adult dragon. I also could hear you yelling at your men in even louder anger but it was too muffled through the cave walls to understand.”

The infant dragon stepped closer to the edge of the bed, his feet carried him closer to the safety of your familiarity, but his small slit gaze eyed Ezra and his hands that rested in front of his body still not breaching the bed’s edge. “I don’t know why he was alone, but I think the sounds scared him. Something must have made him trust me, because I hadn’t even realized I had company until we were here.”

For one, the man beside you was rather silent. His usual ability to find endless things to speak on suddenly quelled by the strange series of events unfolded in such a short amount of time. So you took over his role, filling the void with the only thing you could.

Hoping desperately that if you softened the blow to him, just maybe he could convince the magistrate to at least to try and not harm him. “There's so much more they can do, Ezra. It’s like their waters is just one aspect of their ability. Just drops of blood or a tear, even the flame is something else all together. Like the ones we see is just defensive, but I’ve seen him gently blow out a blue almost green colour. It’s like they have all of this just inside of them, but-”

Ezra interrupted with an affection you’ve never heard from him. “But it’s like they need someone with out abilities to create something out of it.”

Your tiny friend finally took tiny hops over to him, his gaze falling from what he likely thought was a flaring dangerous slit in his eyes back over to the brightness inside them. Ezra still didn’t reach out to touch him, and it didn’t go unnoticed how respectful he was being.

A side you’ve never seen before, or not at least to this extent. He was competitive with you to an infuriating degree, but you had to give him credit that never once has he tried to sabotage your own work. You were starting to think it should count for something.

The silence was palpable but not uncomfortable. He and the dragon looked at one another, almost communicating in the same ways you did with the small creature. It left an odd feeling in your chest. How close you both were in such a vulnerable moment that almost no person gave you the time of day to experience.

A fondness crept up in your throat that you didn’t appreciate, he was only being kind to manipulate you into giving you or your companion up without a fuss or fight. You needed to remember that as you watched Ezra smile so genuinely at the dragons little huff. His wings flapping and a hop in place you knew what he was asking for. “I assume your new partner wishes to find a home near your fireplace.”

You turned to look at his side profile only to startle at how close he was, looking directly at you. “Judging by how cool it is in this room, especially now that the sun’s left us.” Not thinking twice, a motherly instinct took over as you stood up instantly and put a hand hovering over the creatures back, prompting him to the edge of the bed.

“Come on, let’s try this again. You’ve gotten so much better at it since last week.” You bent over closer to his head to murmur much quieter. “It’s not going to hurt you remember? That’s why we put the rug down, you can do it.”

Wiggling in place, the small creature flapped it’s wing and jumped. Only to fair a few centimeters in distance before losing his steadiness and tumbled to the ground. Just like you reminded him, he wasn’t hurt by it. But embarrassed? Absolutely. Much like a cat, he scrambled onto the wooden floor and took off in a pattering sound to his favourite spot curled up just in front of the fire away from the scene of the so called humiliation.

Which just so happened to be in the middle of the largest free space. You’ve learned quite quickly to forge a path around tight gaps and strange angles to climb over.

Ezra came right beside you, his arm so close to touching yours that you felt the warmth radiating from his skin. His voice deep and almost a raspy quiet near your ear. “It’s miraculous what you’ve done. These aren’t easy creatures to gain so much trust in, but this one looks at you like a mother. And you love him like one back.”

Your head whipped around to him in shock. His voice was an admiration never given to you before from him, and his eyes swam with a genuine affection you couldn’t quite name. His dark eyes bore into yours unwavering. As if he saw right through whatever walls were in place and carved it’s way right to your insides, and it was too much for you to handle.

Looking away, you crossed your arms over your stomach and shuffled your feet. You weren’t sure if he even heard your tiny plea. “I’m going to miss him.”

But he did, and Ezra’s face fell into a conflicted frown that let a kind of heart wrench peek out from it. You hadn’t gotten but a few feet into the main room again when you both heard it at the same time. A bundle of voices in uniform tones.

For the briefest of moments, you had seized up. They had never found you before, and you hadn’t thought to take any precautions when leading Ezra inside. He on the other hand, wasted no time.

His large stature allowed him to get to the front window shutters in but a few steps, his body flat against the wall as he peeked out of the cracks. A distinct golden flash in his eyes. You don’t know why, but for just a moment, you wondered if yours looked just as beautiful or if it was just an extension of his own.

Shaking it off quickly you stepped over to the door next to the window he looked out of. Hands fumbling with the locks, not even having the foresight use the very abilities they likely were seeking you out for.

Whipping around your eyes blazed in fury, “You said you were here alone, you told me you came here alone that I wasn’t going to be taken by force,” Fire blazed in your eye but your trembling voice, the unsteady shake of your hands told a story of hurt and betrayal. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, you just wanted one thing from me-”

Ezra invaded your personal space with a dangerous look of warning as he seemed to command you silent with a slip of your name past his lips. “This was not my doing. I told you he would rather steal you from your own home, but I implored him to let me go in place.”

You shook your head and tried to back away, but there was really nowhere to go. The hut was small and the door was pressed up against a flat wall. “You’re the only one who knows, about me, about here.” Ezra's hands reached out in the air to placate you but realization dawned in your eyes. “It was you, last night you were the one watching me, you destroyed my stuff? For what? To scare me into thinking it wasn’t you? To trick me into gaining your trust so you can lead them right to me?”

Your voice grew and grew into a shattering panic, but Ezra all put pushed you against the wall with his step forward. Dark eyes infuriated and a snarl willing itself onto his face. “I protected you. I kept his men away from you, don’t you dare stand there and accuse me of forcing you into anything.”

The sounds of voices grew louder and as you turned to open the door to attempt a protective charm, Ezra snatched your wrist in mid air and gripped it tight. “Ezra I-”

“Already have done it myself.” At your shifty gaze to the door again he pulled your wrist in closer. “You were panicked and froze, I took up the mantle myself.”

He still refused to let go of your arm when you tried to pull back again. His body was still and unmoving as much as his heavy gaze on you as if this didn’t at all phase him. “I didn’t freeze, let me go I’ve casted one several times-”

His face leaned into a mere inch or two from your face, he hand pulling your arm behind him enough that it forced your chest far closer into his own. The slightest sensation of this thumb running over your skin sent a shiver through you as did his low tone. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing, birdie. I am perfectly capable of taking care of you.”

A tiny hiss spat out, and the two of you looked to the fireplace to see the tiny creature lifting his head up just enough to watch Ezra with hostility. Hand still in mid hair, he let go of you and lowered his own slowly in the creature’s view. It seemed satisfactory as he once again curled his long neck up onto his body looking like a lumpy ball on the floor.

A beat of silence passed between you. There wasn’t an aggressive attack towards you nor was there more shouting or orders passed around. Ezra’s hands sat on his hips as he looked down slightly, giving you a modicum of space. “I wouldn’t worry much, those appear to be meager footmen not soldiers of any effectiveness. They’ll simply watch and pray for you to come out willingly until dawn hits and they need to return.”

Luckily your new friend seemed unaffected by any of this. Sleeping soundly in front of a cozy warm fire, uncaring about the current situation. Most likely he’d stay asleep until early morning when he knocks over things in your tiny kitchen seeking easy food.

��You uhm,” your fingertips tapped against your legs as you avoided eye contact. “You’ll need to stay. I might not be able to make a new one in time if you leave. Especially empty handed.”

Ezra nodded understandingly, he turned to the room and once again found himself milling about the small space, not even needing to watch his feet as he comfortably stepped over the green lump on the floor. “Good thing you have such generous accommodations for such an occasion.” You rolled your eyes as your body relaxed in a slump. “I’ve always felt as if the rough edge of a stone stool makes for a tremendous resting spot.”

Your arms crossed against your stomach once more as you walked into the other side of the room, not like it made much of a distance between you granted. “I- you’ve been...kind..today. Other days, I don’t really..it’s been a strange evening.”

“That it has.” His calm unchanging demeanour was either an inhuman blessing or a purposeful tool to stay one level above you. But you had no energy to fight him for it.

You ended up by the kitchen and tapped your fingers against the little counter space untouched by clutter. “I don’t have much to offer, but I have a little bit of stew and some day old bread I got from the market today...”

It was awkward, offering him such normal things in your evening routine, but he was kind enough not to make jabs at you for it. He did however, narrow his eyes slightly. “Now birdie I know for a fact that very seller makes his bread fresh into the evening.”

You shrugged your shoulders, but turned to busy yourself in gathering what was left of the stew made the day before. “Not like he is going to sell his finest or freshest to me of all people.” You muttered just under your breath, but not enough for Ezra’s fine hearing to catch it. “Him or anyone else.”

Your back was turned, missing the frown he gave as well as his quick appearance behind you. You almost jumped at the sight of him so close. His large hands quick to hold onto your arms gently to keep anything from spilling over.

Without removing his hands, they slid down the length of your upper arms to your hands as he kept eye contact. “I’ll assume you can trust to let me handle the act of pouring liquid into pot and scooping it back out.”

This time your eye roll was less annoyed and for closer to playful as you nodded, and let him take it from you. Only turning long enough to realize he would need a ladle, and seeing you already grabbed one for him.

“I’ll leave you to the bread.”

The next little while was actually quite peaceful. Ezra’s comfortable silence as he knelt by the fireplace watching for a boil. Not even the interruptions of silence as he mindlessly chattered at the sleeping dragon bothered you.

He steered clear from today's events. Choosing to go about the casualness of his day, and prompting you with genuine questions about yourself. Questions you found yourself easily answering without hesitation. It wasn’t long until it felt like a real conversation, and it didn’t even occur to you how strange it was compared to the usual hostility between you both. How easily warmth and laughter was shared when your greivences were set aside.

Ezra was quicker than you to get used to it, he was almost making you second guess the ways he interacted with you. Making you wonder how much of that hostility stemmed from just you. There was a guilt there, the wonder of how much of his hostility did you deserve for the way you’ve treated him first.

That was a feeling which grew louder the longer as the evening turned into night. You couldn’t let him sleep out here, there was no space for his broad stature and the only thing not with a stone base was your bed. It would be large enough, but the idea made your heart beat and your nerves to tighten.

You’re head was muddled about him tonight but the idea of treating him as uncaring as you might have not too long ago suddenly didn’t sit right with you. Ezra had been milling about your space, commenting on your storage and ingredients, how well you’ve utilized such a small space for how much you do.

He was mostly stalling as it grew closer for you both to go to bed, he didn’t want to make you feel awkward by going to sleep as you watched him find whatever space he could make for himself. Choosing to stay awake and preoccupied to spare you that, only you may not have given him that chance.

You whispered his name, once, twice, until you knew he couldn’t hear you from your nervous spot at your door. You feared chickening out, so your mind blurted it out for you. “You should sleep in here.”

He looked at you, a raise of his eyebrows at you hands wringing together in front of your open door, body standing to the side enough that would allow him room. “I understand perfectly, birdie. This is your sanctuary not mine, I have no need for-”

“No, like...in here, with a bed..” His intense eyes with that unblinking stoicism had you nibbling on your bottom lip trying to sound more confident then you felt. “It’s...I told you that you’ve been kind to me today, even when I don’t really deserve it.”

You weren’t looking at him, so you missed Ezra chomping at the bit to argue with you on that point, but you powered through those nerves anyways. “You shouldn’t sleep out here, that wouldn’t be fair. It’s the least I can do.”

Your muscles felt like they tingled at the tender smile on his lips, making his way over to the lantern by the kitchen and blowing it out. You stood frozen watching him, his broad frame taking up so much room in this small space and his watchful eyes barley moving from you. He stood in front of you, his chest so close to yours and his face searching for an answer you didn’t know the question too.

You seemed to square up as he leaned in, your eyes wide and unknowing to you, but flashing over with a desire he knew all too well. He was so close his nose almost brushed against yours before he raised his chin just over your shoulder to blow out the lantern by your heads.

Now the only thing keeping the hut alight was the glow of the embers in the fireplace, and the much smaller flame in the one lantern in your bedroom. Ezra gestured for you to go ahead of him, casually pressing it against your lower back as he followed you inside.

You quickly moved away from the side of the bed he was near to stand by the window, opening the shutters slightly more. Glancing over at him you just tilted your head to the sky outside, “So it’s not completely dark.”

Ezra broke his gaze on you as he knelt down to take his boots off, as you merely slipped off the flat ones you wore in seconds. For a moment before he stood back up, your hands automatically went to untie the strings of your front before realizing you weren’t alone. Ezra had looked up to see a hesitation, hands fiddling with drawstrings that would reveal far more skin then he’s ever seen on you.

Moving right up to the bed, Ezra just nodded for you to go around to your side. “I take no issue with keeping everything on if that’s what you are most comfortable with.” He peeled off his outer layer to show only his thinner long sleeved shirt underneath. The collar of the shirt undone and perhaps undone a far bit more then a commoner might deem acceptable. Without any other obstructing articles of clothing on his upper body, the skin exposed on much of the middle of his chest hummed with the orange glow of the room.

Nothing else was taken off as he climbed under the sheets, his body leaning to sit up and watch. “It’s your bed, birdie. I want you to be relaxed.”

“Relaxed?”

Ezra lowered his head in almost a lecturing appearance, “Comfortable, birdie. I want you to be comfortable. Just lay down for me.”

Why were your nerves so on fire? Why were you feeling this way towards Ezra of all people, no one in this town ever gave you enough mind to stir up this tightening warmth inside of you until here and now. But you climbed in otherwise. Slowly moving down to rest on your side as he watched you.

“Ezra?” With a shake of his head whatever thought he was lost in went back out of focus. “The light? Could you?”

Craning his head to the side, Ezra twisted just enough to blow it out. Setting the room dark, with the only light being streaks of a blueish tint from the moonlight.

It didn’t take long for both of your eyes to adjust, and it was hard to ignore that the bed wasn’t large enough to create a wide gap between you, and that you both lay on your sides facing one another not yet asleep.

The length of Ezra’s hand was the maximum amount of distance between your bodies and even in the moonlight you could see his brown eyes and their penetrating gaze on you. You tried to look away from his eyes, but instead of just closing them, you lowered them only to find yourself looking at the outline of chest that was exposed.

Neither of you said anything, but there was no fooling. You both knew the other was wide awake. Your body felt tense as if it screamed at you to move more, but you laid so perfectly still that the arm pressed under you ached in the pressure. He was close and his features were so much more predominant in this glow.

Not just the blonde against the dark hair, but his nose that framed his softness so handsomely that it made looking away from him a difficult task. His lips were hard to see, but you kept fighting to push back the images of how plump and soft they always were.

You didn’t notice that you had started to shiver, but it wasn’t from the cold. Your nerves shook from this strange warm need and the fight against how complicated it made you feel. “It’s cold, birdie. Come closer, I run a twinge warmer then the average.”

His whisper was raspy and it stunned you how badly you wanted to hear it again, so you didn’t move. Your free hand dug into the sheets in front of you as he spoke still quiet but more firm.

“Always so stubborn for me.”

Ezra moved a tad closer as he reached out to press against your back and lean you into him. His chest was so warm, and his arms were as large as the rest of him. You hadn’t thought about it when your fingertips reached up, a few of them hooking into the exposed collar of his shirt further down his chest. A spark buzzing into your body as you felt the brush of his chest against you.

His own hand trailed up and down your back, exploring a place he’s never been. “Better?”

It felt natural as you pressed a little closer to his front, a mutter of “You’re warm,” let a smile break out on his face that you couldn’t see.

“Good.” It was a few minutes of silence, but his hand tracing your back over your clothes and the occasional shift and reaffirming your fingers hold on the edge of his open collar told you both neither was asleep Just like he usually did, it was Ezra who broke the quiet. “I wish you’d have learned by now, birdie that I don’t hate you. Quite the contrary.”

Such an emotional side wanted so badly to cling onto that as the truth, and as it turned out, having your body pressed against his in your own bed let that emotion win out. So you nodded with a hum.

“You see how someone who does much of what you do, only I get treated without being insulted, shunned or talked down too. And I certainly haven’t made that feel much better for you by just letting myself play off of your easy annoyance with me. Though your face being rather cute when you’re grumpy may have played a role.”

As much as you could you turned your head up to see him, but his own was tilted upward watching the shine of streaked moonlight against the ceiling as his hold on your back grew more solid. His press of you against his front much more distinct. “Most of these townsfolk have been cruel, and I am truly sorry for my own actions in that. You deserve to be treated better then to be outcasted like a curse.”

You didn’t know why you did it, but you leaned back to catch his eye line better, your hand now pressing against his chest as it trailed back and forth from the broad strength of his torso to the softer stomach underneath and back. It wasn’t your mind that made the choice, it was an action guided by heart.

Something Ezra had done for much of the day. But you still asked. “How would I deserve to be treated?” It was innocent, a genuine question. This town has pushed you into the mud and laughed when you struggled to stand up.

Ezra’s jaw tensed, his body growing quite tense beneath your hand, and in response, you pressed more firmly against his chest to gently run down his torso hopefully more soothingly. It was a resolve of his will power that snapped.

The second you trailed your hand just a tad further down, brushing over his shirt enough to just barley graze the coarse hair leading to a much different kind of touch. Maybe you hadn’t realized it, it was dark and you were quite gentle up until then.

But the slightest pressure of your fingers close to his growing need erupted a boiling point within him. In a flash, Ezra grabbed your hand and flipped your body to fall flat on your back as he pressed up against your side, his upper body learning over yours to hold your hand down in his grasp. “It’s a dangerous game to toy with a man’s greed, birdie.”

Your chest heaved to match the quickness of your heart. Where his body touched yours felt like a flame but one without the agony. You could better see him this way, his eyes dark with an undoubtable lust and his lips slightly parted with grit as he shamelessly looked over you.

Did you mean it? Your sudden courageous touch closer to a part of him you thought he’d never care to give you? Was it what you always wanted but struggled to understand it? Your brain was so muddled as the authoritative press he had against your hand pinning it and you into place had part parts of you screaming.

Your thighs rubbed together trying to quell the screams but it only caused his dark eyes to look down to the shuffling. His grip slowly released your fingers until they barley touched. Just as they parted Ezra almost violently pulled the sheets away from you. So quick you were unable to hide the desire the parts of you Ezra dreamt about most spoke.

He pressed a palm onto the sheets closer to your waist as he raised his body enough to better lean over you. “If you’re toying with me, birdie, this is nothing short of cruel.”

It flew out of you in a breathe, no planned out thought behind it, only pure instinct. Your body writhed along the sheets just enough where you just barley felt your hips brush against his. “What do I deserve, Ezra?”

His jaw clenched more as he leaned down, his nose brushing against yours and tracing it’s length. “Want? Or need?” When you didn’t answer a second later, Ezra moved his hand to dance over your waist and hips with a clenched hand needing more. “You can’t just want this, birdie. I need you to need it. I need you to tell it to me. Tell me you need this. Need me.”

Just a single doubt of if this was a plot passed through you, but he played dirty if that was the case. He lowered his hips just enough for you to feel quite a hefty weighted pressure against your own hips. Not just heavy, but no doubt, something much more sizable then the very few you’d seen before.

“I need you.” He was greedy and it wasn’t quite enough, but he knew you’d know what to give him.

“Please?”

Christ almighty it wasn’t even a beg, it was such a sweet little ask. Almost innocent sounding if his cock wasn’t pushing into your hips begging for you to spread your legs. But it was a please that growled through him.

His hand perched on the sheets rose up and grasped your jaw, his breathe hitting your skin as his lips brushed against yours with his sole response. “Thank you.” The only thing you felt next, was his lips harshly against yours, an aggressive commanding kiss that left you breathless with his greed.

The very first thing you realized about Ezra as a lover, was he was unforgivingly passionate. His lips were soft but paired with a force that demanded you let him guide you. His kiss become more aggressive with each passing breathe until his tongue brushed against your lips.

Your senses felt overwhelmed, all you could feel, hear, even taste was Ezra. Your hands grasped meekly at his shoulders while his own large ones encompassed your hips as he swung his legs over to hold himself over top of you. He squeezed handfuls in such a greedy tight grip that you couldn’t move them much.

What he wanted. He didn’t grind his covered cock against you now, but he kept your hips pinned to his as he continued to keep the weight of it pressed into you. Let you feel him grow harder right against where he intended to devour.

A small whimper left your mouth as he brushed his tongue once again at your mouth and he took his opening, sliding his tongue inside and brushing it against yours before pulling back and starting all over again. He coaxed you each time to explore his mouth as much as he did yours, one of his hands releasing your hip to cup the back of your head.

Pushing you up more into his mouth, keeping you connected as he gave a muffled moan as you finally felt the confidence to taste him as well. It wasn’t graceful or even delicate, no this kiss was messy. Ezra not caring for technique or talent, but keeping the taste of you with him any way possible.

More then once you tried to pull back with a gasp of breathe only for him to follow your mouth once again. Your hands finally started to move, once again trailing the path you started only this time without the trepidation.

Fingertips dancing at the bottom of his shirt, Ezra gave you no doubt. Pulling away from your mouth, a string of spit just barley there before breaking as he sat upright not taking his shirt off, but grabbing your hands and sliding them under the fabric for you. He leaned back into you, pressing his cock harder into your centre. Grasping your neck and jaw he turned you to his pleasure as his mouth moved up your neck, leaving a cool path in it’s wake as he nibbled a patch and then soothed it with his tongue before moving on.

Your hips now free arched up into him with a gasp, the sting of his bite racked your body with an overwhelming need that made your hair stand on end. His unwavering focus left him barley separating from you as his beard and moustache rubbed into the sensitive skin he created.

A stutter trembled out of your mouth as you felt his cock much more clearly. Your hands holding onto his waist as you moved slightly against him, feeling him grow harder against you. It also though, left you in great wonder as to where he truly started and ended. The firm pressure against you felt so much larger than you could imagine and you found a shameless greed fly through you wondering how heavy it would feel on your tongue.

But the moment passed as your hands finally ran down to feel the coarse hair that set him off before. In a fleeting moment you suddenly pushed yourself up, forcing Ezra to sit upright once again his mouth draped open and swollen from his force. Your eyes this time held no insecurity.

You shoved his shirt up the length of his torso before leaning up as much as possible to pull it off before he took over and yanked it the rest of the way. You felt a rush of desire at how truly large he was. Broad shoulders and chest with arms that could hold you down with no real force. Down and down was a softer stomach that was where your palms kept running over, dipping to the coarse hair and soothing back upward as he just watched you.

Quickly he forced you back, his hands slamming down onto either side of your head as he rasped out, “It’s truly a crime that you’ve kept this breathtaking sight from the world.” His eyes slipping shut with a moan as your nails scratched ever so slightly below his waistline.

“Oh? You have any intentions of sharing this with others?” Ezra’s eyes snapped open, the moonlight hitting his back hid the incredulous look on his face in shadow, but you certainly felt it as he sat back up grasping your thighs.

“You misunderstand me birdie. I was being generous, what I meant was how much I can’t believe you hid any of this from me.” His hands grabbed the bottom of your skirts and bunched it up in his hands. “You’ve given yourself to me, and I am a selfish man.” He dragged it up and up exposing your skin to the cool air. “And I don’t share.”

Pulling it up as much as he could, you had to move quick to sit up in time as he pulled it off of you completely. The only thing keeping you from him now was a flimsy piece of fabric he had every intention of keeping for himself. Like he said, Ezra was a selfish man and if this is the only time he can ever share this with you, then he damn well is going to keep a small part of it with him.

You were quiet for a moment as he looked you over. His visibility much better then yours as the blue tint of the moon painted itself all over your skin. His hands once again on your thighs, he squeezed the flesh just as tightly as he did your hips.

His voice was tight, strained. “You have no idea the pain it’s putting me in to stay gentle with you. You have the audacity to just lay there, showing me damn near everything I’ve ever dreamt about you but I’m still wrong.”

Your face fell, spiralling down into a sea of what flaws he possibly hated so much to even point out. His grip on your thighs, his own face staring at your own chest tried to convince you otherwise. As did his own words. “Every night I imagine you just like this, you always slink up to meet me halfway, nails dragging over my chest with a knowing greedy look in your eye like an animal waiting to strike. But you now? You just lay there, looking at me with the most genuine eyes I’ve ever been graced with, and this...quiet uncertainty like I’m going to just take this all back.”

You could feel your lungs constrict, a shame once again setting in that maybe this has all been your fault. That this rivalry towards one another has been one sided the whole time and that you should consider yourself lucky to be blessed with his patience for you.

In theory, you followed what his dreams played out, but your palms smoothed up his chest not scratching nails, and there was no sultry look about you, but a genuine heart wrench. Your hands gently cupped the sides of his face, his facial hair scratching your palms beneath. “I, this isn’t your fault and I’m sorry.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in question. One of your hands danced along his collarbone to avoid this face. “Maybe it’s all been in my head, or it’s changed between us, or I just treated you this way for no reason but..it’s different, tonight- I don’t know how to, it’s.” You stopped, took a deep breathe as he patiently waiting for your thoughts to collect. “I don’t know if I want to go back to what we were after you walk out of here. I don’t know if I can go back to it.”

Ezra didn’t respond, merely leaned down enough to gently kiss you, not pushing or pulling at you, just a chaste press of his lips against yours. “I had no intention of going back, birdie. I finally got you to open up to me, and like I said, I’m too selfish to let that slip away.”

Shuffling back on his knees, Ezra grabbed your underwear and tugged it down. His eyes watching you the entire time. Your heart was almost too loud in your head but you pushed that way regardless. You lifted your hips, and let him pull it off, baring you to the cool air entirely.

Sitting up on his knees, Ezra balled the fabric up in one fist, while pushing open your legs for him. You felt exposed, nervous at what he may think or see but you felt the pressuring shove to keep your legs spread wide the second you attempted to close them.

“I promised something you deserve. Will you let me show it to you?” You nodded but your heart grew louder, thumping against your chest as he didn’t crawl back up to you. No, instead holding your legs out just slightly wider then his own broad frame as he leaned into the core between your thighs.

You didn’t say anything, and Ezra had no intention on talking, not this typical way that is. His large hands spread your thighs as far as they could go to fit him, and your gasp of surprise caused a grin to form on Ezra’s face that could only be described as smug.

With no warning, Ezra pulled you forward enough to lean his head against your mound, the sound and sensation of him inhaling your scent sending shivers throughout. “Now that, is more divine than anything you or I could conjure out of thin air.”

Your strength left you, back falling against the sheets losing sight of him completely as you were only now bent at the hips, at the will of the man you least thought would ever choose this with you. The tip of his nose nudged against your clit a few times, your hips jerking as tiny sparks of pleasure came alive. With one more tease left in him, Ezra shoved his face right between your legs, dragging his tongue up from your entrance and back up to your clit as he ran his mouth over it as if a kiss.

Your moan turning into a whine as your legs were shoved just out of his way. Ezra’s eyes bore over your body as he took no slow enjoyment of making a show taking his pants off. There was no patience to drag his need out for you any longer.

He didn’t give you a view for long, just enough to see the how large he was all over, and just a hinting outline of his cock that even for a flash, hung thick and heavy between his legs. But he once again took what he needed. This time no second was spared as he devoured you.

His tongue tracing a path from your clit to your entrance and teasing you each time. Edging himself just enough inside you to garner a taste as it seized your legs up in tension, but the whines of your mouth had him smirking into your skin. “Ezra, please,”

You didn’t know what you needed, but he did. Oh did he know.

Ezra finally pushing his tongue inside of you, licking and tasting you as his hands once again grasped your thighs to push open. There was a twisting, burning fire flaming hotter and hotter with every stroke of his tongue and your moans weren’t the only ones.

The vibrations from his own sounds contrasted with the otherwise softness of his mouth and tongue tasting between your legs but it was an overwhelming fire that threatened to take you, and he wished it too. Your arms grasping at the sides of your head as if in an agony of desire while he rode the wave of your writhing against the sheets.

He seemed to mumble endlessly into you, nothing you could make out. There was a ringing in your ears that only heard the sounds of Ezra pushing you more and more towards the waters edge. A wet tasting as he refused to leave you to even speak his prayers of thanks for you to hear.

His eyes darted open to see your hands dancing to find a grounding, and one of his took ahold of the closest to him. As he moved his body upwards, his mouth took focus on your desperate clit and it echoed your need through the air. His hand holding yours forced it onto your breast and squeezed tightly. Moving and encouraging you to pull and tease in tandem with his tongue on you.

The other refusing to leave anything out, his larger hand took up so much more of you as he gave your breast such rougher touch then your own. But just as he nibbled oh so lightly at your sensitive clit, he grasped your nipple and tugged. A tight hold and rough tug that had you cry loudly.

He did it again, and again each time his greedy licks turning into a much more feral buzzing in his body. A snarl left his mouth as you cried his name out, the only beg you knew and he yanked your hips up to his mouth more. His cock leaking onto your sheets as it pressed up against the bed, but he could ignore it. He couldn’t ignore how he licked into you with such aggression.

A hand on your hip shifting only to roughly press against your clit once more and rub into you with a firm pressure refusing to give. He could sense your orgasm, your body tensing up as your cries turned to breathy gasps. Your insides like a coil ready to be let go, “Ezra, I-I’m-”

He barley tore his mouth away. His lips brushing against your soaked folds with every breath, he could only hiss out through gritted teeth. “I know, give it to me, I need to taste you.” You stuttered trying to give any response but he couldn’t stop himself. “This cunt, this-” shoving his face once again to aggressively lick into you before speaking again, “magnificent cunt, let me taste all of you. And you can have me.”

The vision of what outline you could see and the heavy bulge once pressed against you spun in your minds eye as you grappled with words. “I want, fuck I want it, I want you.”

He still kept his pace but spoke with such ferocity to make you answer him. “What do you want, birdie.” You didn’t answer him again right away and he slapped the outside of your thigh. Not so hard it hurt but enough to make you jump. “Tell me what you want, whatever it is I’ll give it to you but I need you to say it.”

Ezra hissed the words out and you forced yours through a gasp for air. “Your cock. I want your cock, inside me-please, god please, I need you to fill me.” You couldn’t even understand what you were saying, your orgasm teetering on the edge spilling out any desires you lusted for.

He stopped though, his grip so tight bruises already asked to form, as his breath spat into you, “You need me to fill you up? Is that what you need?”

“Yes, please Ezra please,”

He pulled you over the edge in an instant. His tongue inside of you making a mess as he dragged it out of you and up to your clit once more, soaking you so much you could hear it. His mouth licked at your clit in short tight circles until it hit you like a wave.

Nothing of matter cried out from your mouth, just pure pleasure as your back arched up and Ezra slinked back down to drink from you until he could feel your breathe settle from it’s frenzy.

A man not of patience he shoved himself up your body and kissed you, even more sloppy then your first. Your own taste on his tongue and essence smearing over your face where it still sat fresh on his as he licked into your mouth with the exact same treatment.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your hands grasped one shoulder blade and another through his thick hair as your legs wrapped higher on his hips. As he moved his hand down you felt his tip press up against your soaking wet cunt. Rubbing the thickness up and down smearing your own wetness and mixing it with the precum already on his cock.

Biting at your lip you dug your nails into his skin as he kept prodding his cock inside of you not even an inch. “Tell me again, birdie.”

Before you could beg, he pulled from your mouth to look you in the eye as much as could be for so close. “Tell me you’ll have me now and tomorrow.” Your heart lurched in your chest, but you couldn’t remember the conflicts that plagued your relationship for so long.

You could only hear a sincerity and a rough need edging on his tone. “Tell me this can be us now, and I’ll fill you up with me. I’ll fill you with every inch of my cock, and then I’ll fill you with my cum. Spill it all inside of you, maybe keep my cock shoved in there to force you to keep every drop.”

His cock was almost properly pushing inside of you, but you knew he needed the words out loud. Gently, you raked your nails through his hair, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, his nose and back again all while he held his cock still. “This is us, this is all us.” You whispered against his mouth and a shaky breathe left him. “Now fill me Ezra, I want you, I need it all inside me.”

He gave you no time to adjust, your cunt was so soaked as well as his cock that his entire thick length shoved into you with no resistance. You moaned the others names out, Ezra falling into your neck with moans and your head tossed back grasping onto him.

Ezra didn’t pound into you as you thought he would. Instead he slowly dragged his cock along your walls, teasing every nerve inside of you as he slid in and out. Never leaving you, but making you relive how thick and deep he was every time.

The wetness was almost obscene as the thrusted in and out of you. Without removing his head from your neck, he blindly pulled your legs higher along his hips and it let his cock slide deeper. You clenched around him as the stroked along a razors edge that startled you with how good it felt. His mouth dragged itself up to your ear as he kept his pace slow yet deep.

“So good, you are unfair to me, birdie.” His voice rasped out, higher in pitch the more he thrusted into you. “You squeeze my cock so fucking good, fitting my cock as if we were created to lock together. You’re always so good, so talented, so fucking clever.”

His thrusts pounded a little harder, and when you cried out louder, Ezra pained himself to pull back to a gentle slide inside of you. “You take such good care of the things you love. Now, will you let me take care of you? Spill my seed deep inside of you? Once? Twice? Will you let me fill your cunt up with my cum until it just can’t fit anymore of me?”

Your bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair curling in dampness as you pulled his face to look at you eye to eye. His dark eyes blown wide open and his mouth unable to close from the mounting pleasure in both of you. He never slowed his pace, and you wrapped your legs around him more, closer to his own legs to try and bring him deeper.

“Please, fill me up Ezra.” You pulled him into a kiss breaking off only to mumble against hips lips before kissing him again. “I’m yours to have, please. Cum inside me, please just this one please.” The burning pleasure filled your limbs as you could only move against his thrusting hips to seek out your orgasm before it could be taken away, not that he would dare deprive himself of it.

You rambled, not knowing what you were saying but driving him mad through it all. “I’m yours, whenever, wherever. Fuck me until until you’ve had enough of me, until it takes, please cum inside me you can have whatever you want.”

Ezra grasped your face harshly, kissing and licking into your mouth as your orgasm swam into the shores. The fire between your legs making you almost cry in tears, leaning up into his warm touch, letting his kiss consume you as all you felt was his cock slick against your walls.

Your head was high in the clouds, surrounded by white noise of his creating. You were too far off to sense how insane you drove him. Neither of you could have expected his feral, snarling desire to keep you all for himself. But you told him to fuck you until it took, and it lost him.

There was no discernible drive behind it, not that he knew of at the moment, but it consumed with with the concept of fucking you every chance he gets, spilling his cum deep into you without any care to take precautions over it.

That thought pushed him over the edge. His hips pushing shallow thrusts deep inside you as he buried his head into your neck with a tight hold moving throughout your body. His cum spilling inside of you, warm and so deep you buried your own face into his hair as your clenching walls milked him for all he could give you.

You thought he may be mumbling something onto your skin, but whatever it was seemed to be another language. You were too far gone anyways, burrowing yourself into his arms as you both stayed there. Hips locked together, neither of you understanding why either of you held this back the way you did.

You didn’t talk about that though. Once you both came back down, Ezra pulled up, giving you one last kiss, but not of deep lust, just a simmered passion that left you chasing his lips after.

You also didn’t speak of the very reason he had to stay that night, likely still out there until the sun arises. Ezra didn’t care about them, he didn’t elaborate but he was very clear that he didn’t ever come to you with intention of handing you over. For once, you truly believed him, and he had such a genuine smile of happiness of true peace between you.

The rest of the night was quiet, intimate. Ezra watching with fond curiosity as you sat with the tiny dragon now awake with company. Watching you both work together, whispers at him and coos and purrs at you, a golden glow shining in the small space in front of the fire pit as you showed Ezra the charms you had been teaching him or working on together.

He tried some of them too, with varied success but never once did he become short or annoyed by your own success. He just watched you guide and praise the small creature, support him to work with you, prompting what you know he can do.

His smile only warmed up fonder as he quickest of images replaced the one in front of him. One where the creature in front of you was something much more human. One with dark curls and a growing patch of blonde standing out against a softer face that much more resembled you.

It wasn’t a thought that lingered, but he didn’t chase it away. This was new for the both of you. He treasured how much you understood each other once the walls dropped.

You had mentioned that once the sun came up you’d have to figure a plan out. “He’s small, and he’ll stay small for quite a while, but this just isn’t..”

“This isn’t a place to raise him.” Ezra brave enough to run a finger over his wings and not get growled or snapped at finally. “We’ll find somewhere. I’ve passed a fair few places before settling here, any one of them could give you both a real home.”

You watched the creature, you didn’t look at him but there was a watery weight in your eyes. “Just the two of us? You’re life is here, right?” Ezra smiled but you didn’t cut your brain off. “You’ve done enough, you’re life shouldn’t be uprooted for a baby dragon, not for the only person who you’ve competed against for years.”

You tried to steel your face impassively. But Ezra didn’t falter from such a casual relaxation. “Well now how could you two travelers even consider leaving your own companion behind? Frankly I’m offended.”

Your head shot up in panic, only to fall flat at the playful jest on his face. “You don’t have to though, really.”

Ezra furrowed his brow before hauling himself up more. His heart leaping as you so harmoniously reached for him as soon as he cupped your cheeks for a kiss. Pulling way he nudged his nose against yours, “You know better then anyone, I’m a stubborn man.” You laughed out loud, your forehead affectionately resting against his. “You aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon, birdie.”

A chirp croaked out below you both. Ezra poked at the little green attention seeker. “Yeah, yeah same to you, you winged nightmare.” The dragon shaking it’s head with a squeaky growl, hopping away from you both completely. Once again turning himself into a lumpy green pile on the ground ruminating by the fire.

You and Ezra both laughed, and it once again struck him at how parental it felt. The image of a baby, looking much like your best traits together, cradled in your arms and you in his own came back up.

He wouldn’t push that thought, wouldn’t read too heavily into it until a true life has settled with you, somewhere far from the noise and nonsense that drove a wedge between you both in the first place. He never hated you, or even disliked you but Ezra understood why his own attitude didn’t lend itself to healing.

It was hopeful now, such an intimate domesticity between him and you felt as if it was what was truly meant to be. What was behind the animosity previously getting in the way.

Maybe though, he would wait a while before telling you he was the one who had all of your market belongings replaced. He did it out of a burning need to give you something you needed, something good you deserved.

But he had a feeling you would still accuse him of ruining it in the first place as an excuse to get you new things. The magistrate clearly ordered it done to intimidate you instead of doing literally anything else more effective. But Ezra can’t lie to himself.

He absolutely had thought about doing exactly that just to try and get your attention.

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x female reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #ezra prospect x you #pedro pascal x reader #prospect imagine

167 notes · View notes