#the force awakens is on this list too

[feral4daryl]

masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

[loversmantra]

LOCK YOUR PHONE!

synopsis. a secret relationship. a fantasy.

content. itoshi sae x cisfem!reader. aged up characters (+20). fluffy but suggestive. implied sexy times. profanity. secret relationship. sending and receiving nudes. sae's kinda possessive in this but there's nothing crazy. lowercase intended.

wc. 1.3k

message from noe. i adore him i fear... listen to billie nossa nova by billie eilish for a better experience. been wanting to write something based on this song for a while and i thought sae fit perfectly! enjoy.

there’s a warm body in sae’s bed.

his still asleep brain takes a second to make the connection; the softness of you under him is no longer a feeling he’s used to. he puts two and two together, eventually, and wraps his arms tighter around you. awake, but unwilling to let the moment end, he buries his face into your neck.

too late. you stir, push yourself away from him. he can’t bring himself to blame you: it’s hot in the room, hot under the sheets.

there will be no more sleeping for him, but it isn’t too late for you — with that thought in mind he too rolls away, blinking once, twice, context coming back to him as his surroundings do.

the bed is neither his nor yours, though he could have put that together himself — the satin sheets gliding on his skin in such an alien way.

creams and soft pinks blur before his eyes, pale under the early morning’s light. paris. the hotel room he booked for you in a haze, almost feverish in his longing for you.

the downside of keeping a relationship under wraps, he supposes: his noose-tight schedule and the hawk eye of the public force meetings to be few and far in-between, the secret protected like crown jewels. he knows you’re tired of it; he knows because he is, too. it’s exhausting, constantly looking over his shoulder when taking you to his place, or on his way to yours. it’s exhausting, always having to find a different hang out spot, for fear of the media figuring him out. it’s exhausting, waking up and wondering: is today the day the world sinks its teeth into you?

sae’s never cared to keep secrets, at least never willingly — he says things as they are, does things as they need doing, full transparency, if it’s up to him.

it’s exhausting, it is. but that’s just one more thing on the list — and it’s so. damn. worth it. every downside comes with an upside, or else itoshi sae wouldn’t ever bother.

these hidden moments sae shares with you, no one else is privy to them. only he gets to know you like this, love you like this, warm and soft underneath him. no one knows because no one needs to know. just you and him.

no one gets to see you in your entirety: the shine of your eyes when they land on him; the loving curve of your mouth as you smile at him.

everything that belongs to you. for him only.

the face you made when you first entered today’s suite will stick with him for a while, he thinks. the pure delight and adoration shining in your eyes. your lips parting in wonder. all for him. all because of him. your princess room, that’s what you’d called it. a child’s dream, delicate in its simplicity, crushed and torn apart by the cruel world’s sharp, sharp teeth. stitched back together by him.

he knows how it feels, to be ripped to shreds. he’s glad he can do this for you, at the very least.

the world awakens and so does he; slumber slipping through his fingers as he rubs it away from his eyes, tiny sand grains leaving a small sting behind. he slept well. better than usual.

his phone is still on do not disturb. he doesn’t bother checking the time.

sae sits up, covers dropping to his thighs. beside him, you stir again, whine a little. maybe you can feel him leaving, even now in your sleep, feel the shadow of his absence. maybe you’re just bothered by his movements rocking the mattress. either way, you sleep. finding his pants in the mess of the suite bedroom, without the aggressive light of his phone’s flashlight to aid him, proves to be no easy task, but he manages eventually. he slips them on and slips away, closing the bedroom door softly.

it isn’t much brighter in the living space. the lazy sun is barely rising, only the idea of it permeating the gradual brightening of the sky.

phone still clutched in his hand, sae lets himself drop on the abnormally large leather couch, massaging the tender spots you viciously bit into his neck. with just a few swipes, he’s opened his camera roll. time to collect the prize: the surprise you leave for him after every passionate encounter.

the first time you did it, he didn’t even notice until a few days after the fact, when he went browsing through his pictures for a home screen-worthy photo of you.

there it was: a beautifully crafted souvenir of the time spent together. the flash of his phone camera punctuating every shot, barely noticed in the heat of the moment. the red of the set you wore that day.

selfies of you before, and after. your lingerie still intact — and the canvas of your chest painted purple by his loving mouth. not a single video, but at least a dozen pictures: of you, of him, of the two of you together.

a gift from you to him — one that had his blood boiling, had him flushed, aching, yearning all over again.

he sent you his favorite of the bunch — a mirror selfie of you, chest painted purple, a teasing finger pulling your bottom lip down — followed by a question mark. a wordless interrogation.

finally, thought you were never gonna see them, 11:22pm

-is the answer he got.

want more? 11:23pm

and he did. and he got more.

it’s been a while, since then — long enough for it to become a tradition, a little present left in his phone after a secret rendez-vous. so you don’t forget me, you joke.

but how could he?

he’s learned a lot, since that first time. the most important: you’re a fucking tease. lighting, cropping, outfit, pose, it’s an art form to you, down to the time it is for him, when you press send. more often than not, he gets the pictures in the middle of the day, when he can see but can’t do anything.

you’re decent enough to warn him beforehand, at least.

you better lock your phone ;)

and then the raunchiest picture he’s ever seen — you outdo yourself every time — is all over his screen. he’s had many, many close calls. you don’t stop. he never asks you to. he loves the damn pics.

always pictures, never videos — they’re not your thing, he’s learned. not that it matters.

sae would’ve never guessed you’d be such a great soft porn photographer.

the couch’s leather sticks to his skin as he moves, trying to get just a bit more comfortable. he’s about to open his camera roll, ready to unwrap his present, when shuffling near his head startles him out of his reverie.

“why’d you leave?” you murmur, voice still rough with sleep.

you’re completely wrapped in a thin sheet, the only barrier between his hungry eyes and your soft, soft skin. the only glimpse he gets is that of your ankles. a small golden chain rests there, snug. his name is spelled out among the links, hidden. for his eyes only. his chest constricts, almost painfully.

he doesn’t answer; only opens his arms so you can take your rightful place tucked against him. you lay down, covering the both of you with the sheet.

the sun finally peeks from below the horizon, warming your face. it’s peaceful.

“i didn’t want to wake you,” sae decides to say.

you shrug. “more time with you.”

he feels the same — still, your sleep and your comfort take precedence over anything, for him. over anything.

you look so beautiful, like this. waking the sun, blessed by its gentle glow. for his eyes only.

it won’t last. he knows it won’t — secrets never stay secret for long. but for now, simply living like this is enough, more than enough. enjoying the sun. enjoying you.

sae slept well. better than usual. you’re warm on his chest, traces of you warm on his skin. there’s a present waiting for him in his camera roll.

it won’t last — but it won’t hurt to enjoy it while it does.

you fall back asleep quickly, lulled by his steady heartbeat. he follows easily. his dreams are swaddled in creams and soft pinks, and the warmth of the sun on his chest.

LOVERSMANTRA © 2024, all rights reserved. do not translate, crosspost, or copy. steal my work and i'll steal your kneecaps. bitch.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I thought i sent it but i don't think i did though... if i did then oops sorry.

Can i request more TWIST characters who carry reader on their shoulders?

I believe you've done a fair bit of them so I'm trying to remember which ones haven't been asked about.... I think Lilia, Kalim, Jamil, Malleus, Sebek and Riddle? Those are the ones off the top of my head tbh but DON'T feel pressured to do em all. I'm fine with whatever you want to write. I'm just listing stuff for ideas. You don't have to use any of these concepts if they don't resonate.

Sitting on Their Shoulders (4) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Lilia Vanrouge

“Looking at it there’s no way we’re going to get that flag down without a stool or something.”

“Hey why not just get on my shoulders!

“What?”

“Yeah just hop up on my shoulders and grab it! You don’t want to lose the game do you?”

“...Are you sure this is the way we should be doing this? Maybe you should go on mine.”

“Pft are you underestimating me, my little bat? C’mon I can handle you I promise.”

Despite your concern Lilia practically forces you to sit 

Ducking under your legs and standing up

You’ll be too busy regaining your balance to heed the moan he lets out

Too focused on the flag up high to see his eyes roll to the back of his head as you release your grip on his hair

He might toss you up claiming some lie he needs readjust his grip while squeezing your thighs together 

Practically smothering him

“I got it! Okay Lilia I’m ready to come down now! Lilia. Lilia?”

“I’ve decided we should stay this way for the rest of the game!”

“What?!”

“Yup so hold on tight sweet cheeks! I need to run off all the extra energy you’ve given me!”

He really does need to run off all his excitement 

Otherwise he doesn’t know he wouldn’t revert to his more violent ways should anyone break the precious skin-to-skin contact you were having

“(Y/n), I think I just found my favorite place to be!”

Riddle Rosehearts

“How about I put you on my shoulders Riddle? That way you should be able to reach the sugar and we’ll have delicious tarts in no time!”

“...I’ll lift you up.”

“But you’re a lot short—”

“I’ll do it!”

He of course had not thought of himself in such a position lies+

But having his whole face swallowed in between your thighs as he balanced your weight awakens something in him

If there is any aching he has under your weight is dissipated by the overwhelming feeling of you

You, being all around him

Him smelling you with no end in sight

He’s used to imagining and guiltily dreaming about things such as this

It finally puts his intense dictatorship guarding of your friendships

No one should ever be given this 

No one but him

“Uh Riddle can we go to the right a little?”

“...”

“Riddle?..Am I too heavy?”

“NO! I apologize, I was distracted by the...heat….within this room. I’ll go to the left now.”

“Right. We need to go right!”

“Y-yes!”

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

A Day Off at Ramazith’s Tower (AFAB!Reader x Rolan)

Summary: Rolan has been working far too hard lately and, after much coaxing, agrees to take a day off.

Rating: M, NSFW

Pairing: AFAB!Reader x Rolan

Tags: PIV intercourse, handjob, lazy morning sex

Word count: 1.8k

Rolan groaned softly as he rolled onto his back. Rays of sunlight cascaded through the window, rudely awakening him. His yellow eyes opened into slits, guarding themselves from the sunlight.

Normally, he would be awake and in his office by now, poring over his inventory lists and planning his next exhibition for the local aspiring mages. Instead, he lay next to you as you slept peacefully. You insisted that he take a day off for once. Rolan waved you off for tendays before finally relenting and agreeing to let his apprentice handle the scut work for a day. After his experience with Lorroakan, Rolan abhorred giving his apprentices anything to do that wasn’t immediately relevant to skill development. In the end it took both you and Rolan’s apprentice to convince him that it was, in fact, a good idea to take a day to rest his mind and body.

The motion transfer of Rolan shifting in bed caused you to wake up and roll over to cuddle onto his chest.

“Hey, you,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling into his embrace. It was your customary morning greeting, one that Rolan found endearing enough to appropriate himself.

“Hey, you,” he echoed, kissing your forehead as he wrapped his arms around you. “Did you sleep well, my darling?”

You hummed affirmatively, planting a soft kiss beneath his collar bone. “How about yourself?”

Rolan smiled. “I always sleep better with you here.” He nuzzled into your hair, taking in the scent of your skin and shampoo.

The two of you laid in bed, cuddled beneath the heavy blankets that Rolan always put out when the first chilly days of autumn descended on the city.

“I’ll go make us tea,” he murmured, kissing the crown of your head. When he started to get up, you pulled him back into the soft bedding.

“You’re not going anywhere or doing anything,” you replied authoritatively. “You’re supposed to be relaxing today.”

Rolan huffed and allowed you to pull him back into bed. “Fine,” he acquiesced.

“I’ll go make us tea,” you replied, snaking your arms out from under him. “You stay here.”

Rolan wrapped his tail around your ankle, tethering you to him.

“You’re not going anywhere, either, my dove,” he growled suggestively. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back into his warm body.

“There is one thing on my agenda today and I will see to it that it’s completed immediately,” Rolan said gruffly in your ear. His breath was hot against the soft skin of your neck.

“And what’s that?” you asked as you matched his suggestive tone.

“Pleasuring you until you scream.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how he’d turned the tables on you.

“This is supposed you be your day off,” you protested as Rolan leveraged his tail’s hold on your ankle to straddle you. His yellow eyes gleamed devilishly as he smirked at you.

“There is no better way to spend my leisure time, if I may be so frank.”

Before you could protest, Rolan captured your lips in a forceful and heated kiss. He buried his fingers in your hair, pulling gently as he sucked at your lower lip. You moaned responsively, feeling his tongue slide into your mouth. Your tongues explored each others’ mouths as you kissed hungrily. Rolan’s clawed hand slid under your nightshirt and squeezed your supple breast while his lips claimed yours. You barely noticed his tail unfurling from around your ankle until the tip of it flicked teasingly against your slit.

“Naughty,” you muttered between kisses as you reached for Rolan’s briefs. When you found his bulge, you slid your hand into his briefs and gently wrapped your fingers around his cock. Rolan gasped raggedly in response as his eyelids fluttered.

“Zurgan,” he hissed against your lips. The sensation of your hand was enough to send him over the edge all on its own.

The two of you had been together long enough that you understood his quirks, like how quickly to stroke… when to slow down… when to bring him just to the edge of release before denying him… You knew what he liked. What he wanted.

“Shh…” you hushed, licking his lower lip. “Don’t get too worked up. It’s your day off, after all.”

Rolan pressed his lips to your neck. “Beloved, the day I remain calm in response to your touch is the day I draw my final breath.”

The tip of his tail played over the prominence of your clitoris, sliding easily over your arousal.

“Why, you’re dripping for me,” Rolan rasped with pride. “I’d advise you to calm yourself, but you’re past the point of no return, I’m afraid.”

Your hips pressed upwards towards his while your hand stroked his cock at just the right tempo, indicated by Rolan’s ragged breathing. Your thumb played with the head of his member and the frenulum, causing the tiefling to shudder.

“Hells,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to maintain composure. He wanted to sink himself into you and claim you as his.

You grinned mischievously as your hand moved deftly along Rolan’s shaft. “Do you like that?”

“You know I do.” Rolan moved his tail out of the way and replaced it with his fingers. Even though he was a wizard of considerable skill, there were certain things best done by hand, in his opinion.

You gasped as his fingers found your clitoris, positioning themselves around its silken prominence in a V-shape. Meanwhile, Roman moved his thumb over the top of the clitoris and began to pulse the pad of his thumb against it.

“Gods, Rolan,” you wheezed. Your hips were bucking against his hand as Rolan pleasured you with skillful precision.

You could no longer maintain your gentle hold on his member under the circumstances; the pleasure was too great to be able to focus on much else.

“I can stop, if that would be easier on you,” Rolan teased.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you said hoarsely.

Rolan immediately stopped rubbing your clit, waiting for you to react. Your response was immediate as you began to rub yourself against his fingers instead.

Rolan’s lips curved into a wolfish smirk and his fangs glistened in the morning sunlight. He knew how desperate you were and how hungry you were for him. He could no longer deny you; he was a generous man, after all.

He pulled his hand away from your slit and dragged his fingers over his tongue, taking in the sweet and tangy taste of you. Rolan pressed his lips to yours one last time before hurriedly removing his briefs. His hands slid upwards and pulled your sleep shirt free from your body, revealing your soft and welcoming body in full.

As he often did before claiming you, Rolan’s bright golden eyes surveyed your figure appreciatively, the way one might take in the beauty of a fine work of art.

With that, he positioned himself between your thighs and slowly sheathed himself inside of you. The rate at which he moved allowed you to feel every ridged inch of him as he entered.

You clenched your jaw tightly, trying to maintain a sense of composure.

“Don’t restrain yourself, my beauty,” Rolan cooed in your ear. “I want you to come undone for me.”

Rolan’s hips pulsed slowly and steadily, thrusting in and out of you as your body accommodated his cock.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he breathed, caressing your cheek. “So soft and perfect.”

He bent down over you, pressing his lips to your neck while one hand cupped your breast. His clawed thumb flicked your nipple languidly as his thrusts sped up.

You inhaled sharply as Rolan plunged into you rhythmically. Your hips began to press up into his in concert, not wanting him to retract from you.

“Desperate this morning, aren’t you?” Rolan growled. “I have just the cure for that.”

He gripped your thighs and pushed your knees back into your chest, laying your calves over his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you gasped. Your eyes were wide with excitement and pleasure as Rolan began to rock his hips forward. You could feel his cock moving deep inside of you, just barely ghosting against your cervix as his cock thrusted, piston-like, in and out.

Your moans and cries of pleasure only spurred Rolan on as his hips smacked against yours.

“Rolan, I’m—“

“I know, lovely, I know,” he crooned. Despite his seemingly calm demeanor, his tone belied that he was approaching the precipice of completion. “You look so beautiful when you’re spread open for me like this.”

Your moans and cried grew ever-more desperate, bordering on whimpers and wails as your lover’s lips collided with yours again.

Rolan’s hips stuttered and began to move more erratically; he wasn’t going to be able to control himself much longer, not with you crying out so beautifully beneath him.

“Come for me,” he begged you. “Unravel for me, my darling.”

He only had so much control left and he used it to push you over the edge. Your eyes widened as your whines grew more desperate. You couldn’t hold on much longer and Rolan’s begging triggered a near-immediate response.

Your fingers dug into the flesh of his back as your body contracted rhythmically around his cock.

“Agh! Rolan!” you wailed, squeezing your eyes shut as you came apart for him.

The rhythmic squeeze of your inner walls was enough to drive Rolan over the edge all on its own.

“Gods, my love,” he wheezed as his release spilled into you. His cock throbbed as he rode out his orgasm. He let your legs down from his shoulders and embraced you tightly as the two of you panted together in the aftermath of your intimacies.

As was often the case after sex, the two of you laid quietly together, holding each other in silence. You were both too breathless to say a word.

When you regained your composure, you grinned tiredly at Rolan. “Not a bad start to a day off,” you remarked.

Rolan snorted in response as he kissed the soft skin behind your ear. “I’m glad you talked me into this,” he said finally.

“Can I get that in writing?” you smirked.

“After you make me some tea,” Rolan retorted, giving your ass a smack. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

Today would likely be the only day off Rolan would allow himself for a while and he was hellbent on enjoying it in your embrace.

[crxss01]

hiii, can i request a e-42 miles morales where he just wants to be comforted but he’s that miles so obviously he doesn’t want to admit it and puts up a strong facade in front of reader but she knows what’s up. thank you!!

— After Dark

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ e-42!miles morales x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ you have come to know miles so much that you know when he is stressed and in much need of comforting even when he tries to act tough in front of you.

warnings ✧˖ ° angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, kissing, miles is our baby boy and needs to be held, cuddling, you being a good partner.

m. list, main m.list.

translations ✧࿓☾ bonito: handsome/or pretty boy, (mi) princesa: (my) princess, cariño: dear, amor: love, te amo tanto: i love you so much, mi angelito: my little angel.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i felt this request in my heart while writing it, hope you enjoy!

you were awaken in the middle of the night by the creak! of your window as it was forced open, you flopped back down from your sitting position after realizing who the intruder was. your boyfriend, miles morales.

"bonito, what are you doing here?" you asked him, you felt exhausted and when you looked at the clock on your nightstand you noticed you had only slept for an hour.

"sorry for waking you, princesa." he apologized, then sat on the end of your bed just examining your face. he did this often, but now there was something off with him.

"what's wrong?" you sat back up, and moved until you were kneeling on your bed right in front of him, taking his head in between your hands.

"nothing, mami." he shook his head, a small smirk making its way to his face as he looked you up and down.

the covers had come off when you moved towards him and in the process revealing your pijama shorts along with the pijama cami top.

"miles, don't play with me." you warned which wiped the smirk off his face. "tell me what's up with you."

"it's nothing, cariño. don't worry about it." he dismissed once again.

"mhm..." you hummed, then proceeded to get off your bed to kneel on the floor. grabbing his feet, one by one, you took off his jordans. you put them to the side neatly and stood back up, unzipping your boyfriend's jacket while he just observed then you took that off too and since he doesn't like sleeping with a shirt on you took it off of him.

"come on," you said getting in bed once again and grabbing his hands, pulling him up the bed which he obliged to.

he laid under the covers with you, between your legs with his head on your chest as you ran your hand up and down his back trying to bring as much comfort to him as you could.

it was silent for what felt like hours and you couldn't figure out if he was sleeping or not because of how relaxed his breathing had become, but you had your answer when he spoke up again.

"it's my mom,”

you stayed silent, wanting him to continue at whatever pace he would like to.

"she keeps working overnight shifts and i know she is doing all of that to provide for me, but it hurts me so much to see her work herself so hard like that. it makes me feel like a burden to her, because if it wasn't for me she wouldn't have to do that." he took a shaky breath, pausing.

once again you remained silent, not pushing him to continue.

"when she comes home she looks so tired and she doesn't even sleep that much because she immediately starts worrying about how i didn't eat properly and if my clothes are washed or some other stuff and it just makes me feel like shit seeing her like that and all because of me." he finishes.

you waited just in case he had something else to say before you said anything, when he didn't you took his head in your hands making him look up at you. you wanted him to look you in the eye as you spoke.

"miles morales, you're not a burden to your mother." you stated, loud and clear. the thought that your parents might hear you did not go through your head. "she works like that not only because she is raising a child all on her own and has to take care of him because she loves him so much, more than anything in this world. she also works like that so that she can be able to provide for herself. she works like that because she is a strong, beautiful and independent woman who others can not compare to. miles, you're her son, of course she would do all of that and more for you because the love of a mother is something that is unrivaled."

you took a deep breath. "if tia morales had considered you a burden, don't you think that she would've given you up to some child system or whatever? but she hasn't and would never do it, i know she wouldn't. she loves you just like you love her."

miles was looking at you, eyes watery but only one tear came out before he wiped it off, breaking eye contact as he did this. he buried his head on your chest for a moment.

"so if you ever feel like a burden again, just remind yourself that she loves you and that she also needs to do that for herself. okay, amor?" you asked.

miles lifted his head up, nodding.

"no, i want you to say it for me." you told him.

"okay." he said.

"i love you, did you know that?" you smiled down at him.

"yes and i love you too, mi princesa." he smiled back and pulled himself further up on top of you until he was on eye level with you. "te amo tanto," he kissed your forehead. "the love of my life," he kissed your right cheek. "my one and only." he kissed your left cheek. "my happiness." he kissed your nose. "mi angelito." he kissed your mouth.

you smiled into the kiss, and kissed him back before pulling away. "i'll always be here for you." you told him.

"i know." he smiled, full teeth showing which was rare, then kissed you again.

life was perfect when he was with you.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[parkerslatte]

Finding Home || Part Four

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: homelessness

Summary: Azriel admits to Y/N that he doesn’t want to rush the tasks and he is shown a glimpse of her good faith.

Finding Home Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

For the second morning in a row, Azriel awoke on Y/N’s couch. His neck was positioned at a weird angle and his wings held a dull ache. But he couldn’t be happier. The scent from the kitchen wafted over to him as he opened his eyes. Quiet humming came from the kitchen that seemed to awaken his shadows, they rose around him before slithering their way into the kitchen. Despite his still tired disposition, Azriel followed. 

What he was greeted to was the sight of Y/N spinning around her kitchen as she prepared a breakfast that could rival anything the House of Wind could create. Azriel couldn’t understand how she had the time for this, it was still early in the–

“Good morning, Azriel,” Y/N greeted. “Or should I say good afternoon? You have slept the whole day away.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. He was not sure when he had ever slept past six in the morning. Seven was considered a lie in for him. But as Azriel looked out of the large bay window, the sun was high in the sky. Despite it being winter, it looked pleasant outside. 

“I’m making some lunch, if you want any,” Y/N said, serving some food onto a plate. “But for you, it would be considered breakfast?” Her teasing tone forced Azriel to send a playful glare her way.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Azriel questioned as Y/N passed a plate of food to him.

Y/N shrugged. “You looked peaceful and I didn’t want to interrupt that.”

“I don’t normally sleep past seven,” Azriel stated.

“I could tell,” Y/N remarked. “Those bags under your eyes were clear of that.”

Y/N placed her plate down on the countertop. Azriel watched as she walked forward and gently placed her hands on his upper arms. At that simple touch, Azriel felt some of the tension in his body fade. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Look,” Y/N said and spun him around to face a small mirror on her wall. “The bags are not completely gone, but they have faded. When was the last time you had a decent sleep?”

“Too long,” Azriel said, his gaze fixated on his reflection. 

Before now, he had not realised how tired he was. If it were a typical day for him, he would wake and immediately begin training, not giving his body a chance to catch up to his exhaustion. He hadn’t felt this well-rested in a long time.

“If I knew how tired you were, I would have let you sleep in my bed, not on the couch, that could not have been comfortable for your wings,” Y/N said, sitting down at the small dining table in the bay window, perfectly fit for two people.

“I wouldn’t have allowed it,” Azriel said. “I am simply taking advantage of the situation I have found myself in.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

Azriel let out a quiet laugh. “Well I get free food for starters.”

“You’ll pay me back,” Y/N stated.

“And how would you want me to pay you back?” Azriel questioned.

Y/N shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

Azriel raised the fork to his mouth and took a bit of the food. He hummed in appreciation, closing his eyes and appreciating the various flavours that burst into his mouth. 

“What is this?” Azriel asked.

“Another recipe my father used to make me,” Y/N said. “I only make it on special occasions.”

“And this is a special occasion?” Azriel asked.

“Yes,” Y/N stated. “Because you have ticked another thing from the list.”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think I have. We have only ticked off two? Coffee and dinner.”

Y/N sighed. “Honestly, Azriel, have you even read the list?”

In complete honesty, Azriel hadn’t. He had skimmed a couple of the tasks but hadn’t read beyond the first few properly. 

Y/N took his silence as his answer. “Number twenty-six, lie in.”

“That is seriously a task,” Azriel asked. 

Y/N held the list in her hand, Azriel having no idea where she had plucked it from. “Yes,” she said. “Have a look.”

Y/N thrust the list into Azriel’s hand and he focused on it. There it was, number twenty six. Something within Azriel was not too pleased. Three tasks down and it had barely been twenty four hours. Rhys had given him three months to complete all thirty tasks and if he continued to keep them up at the rate he was, he would have them done in not even two weeks. Too quickly for his liking. 

From the meeting with Rhys to now, Azriel had changed his outlook on the tasks. He wanted to do them. And he was enjoying himself immensely. The height of elation he had reached over the past twenty-four hours had been higher than he had reached in the past five years. And one of the main reasons was the female sitting across the small circular table. 

“Three down!” Y/N exclaimed.

Azriel forced a smile on his face, he hoped that it was convincing, but from the way Y/N’s face seemed to fall, it definitely wasn’t.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, she placed her hand on the table and Azriel noticed her hesitation as she inched it closer. His hand rested not far from hers and he only wished that she would place it on top of his. The feeling of a caring touch was all Azriel craved. 

But his wish did not come true as Y/N slowly inched her hand closer to herself and settled it back in her lap. Azriel couldn’t help the disappointment that washed over him. 

“I just…think we are going through these tasks fast,” Azriel admitted.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Y/N asked. “You didn’t seem too thrilled when you were given them. I thought getting them done and out of the way would cheer you up a bit.” Azriel furrowed his eyebrows. “From the looks of things, it's doing the opposite.”

The words Azriel wanted to articulate were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t get them out. How do you tell someone you just met that you have had more fun with them in twenty-four hours than the past few years with your family? If she took those words the wrong way, then there was that slim possibility that he would scare her away and Azriel would be back where he started, wallowing in misery. 

Instead Azriel opted for a simpler reason. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

Y/N’s face lit up and Azriel felt something within him stir. He was the one who had put that expression on her face. 

“Well that is good, because I really enjoy spending time with you too,” Y/N replied. 

There was something about that ‘really’ that brought out a wide smile on his face. Y/N seemed to mimic it as she leant her head on her hand.

“And I really enjoy when you smile like that,” Y/N said. “It suits you.”

Azriel continued to smile.

***

Despite the nippy weather, Y/N had suggested the two take a walk. After Azriel’s confession of wanting to slow down the tasks, they decided that the task ordering Azriel to take a walk, didn’t count. Their walk was just two friends spending time together, not completing mini missions. 

Y/N was once again wrapped up in her coat, scarf and gloves. Azriel laughed at her as she piled them on before leaving the apartment. Y/N only glared at him before stepping out to face the cold. 

The two walked side by side in silence, but Azriel felt no pressure to fill it. Simply being in Y/N’s presence was enough to keep him content. Any shop they passed, Y/N would sometimes point something out in the window she liked. There was something about that expression on her face that made Azriel want to immediately walk in and buy it, but he knew that Y/N would only march back in and return it in front of him. 

“Oh,” Y/N said, her hand shooting out to stop Azriel in his tracks. 

Azriel was immediately on alert. His shadows span out and scanned the area. “What is it?”

Y/N, noticing immediately his changed demeanour, rolled her eyes. “It is nothing bad, you oversized bat. I can just smell pastries.”

Azriel relaxed as he reeled his shadows back in. As he did so they gently caressed Y/N’s calves. If she noticed she didn’t say anything so Azriel didn’t mention it. 

“Come on,” Y/N said, linking her arm through Azriel’s. 

When the two made it to the bakery, Y/N went in while Azriel waited outside. It was packed and he didn’t want to crowd the space even more with his wings. And some of the questioning looks he was given made him refrain from even trying to enter. 

As he leaned against the wall waiting for Y/N, he felt a tap against his mental shields. He sighed before lowering them.

I trust you have started on the tasks, Rhys questioned.

What would you do if I haven’t? Azriel questioned.

Nothing, I suppose, Rhys said. Despite what you might think, Azriel, these tasks are meant to help you. You haven’t been yourself in quite a while. We thought you could do something that wasn’t court related. Give you a break.

I was fine doing my duties, Azriel said.

Azriel heard Rhys sigh. Look, Az. All of us are worried about you. We just want to help.

Azriel didn’t respond for a while but he could tell that Rhys was still in his mind. He made sure that he didn’t accidentally reveal anything about Y/N. He didn’t want his family to know about her. At least not yet. 

I have made a start on the tasks, Azriel replied.

Are you enjoying them? Rhys asked.

I–

Azriel stopped as Y/N walked out of the bakery and to Azriel. 

I need to go, Azriel replied. I will talk to you later.I

With that, Azriel slammed his shields back up, blocking Rhys out. As Y/N approached him, he smiled at her in greeting. 

“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I bought you a few things anyway,” Y/N said, peering into the paper bag. “And I was thinking we can go back to my apartment and relax for a while. Of course it doesn’t need to be crossed off the list but it is quite cold out and the thought of sitting back and relaxing sounds nice.”

Azriel nodded. “I might need to go back to my apartment for a change of clothes.”

“Of course,” Y/N replied. “We can go there now, if you want. You can collect some other stuff as well if you want to spend the night again.”

Azriel’s expression softened. “I’d like that.”

Y/N linked her arm with his once again. “Then let’s go.”

As Azriel led her to his own apartment, he was hyper aware of her arm linked through his. Of course she had done it before but Azriel hadn’t even realised at that point something he had been lacking a lot in recent years. Physical touch. Every time Y/N reached out to him, all he wanted to do was link her arm through his, take her hand or just simply brush his fingers against hers. 

As the pair closed in on Azriel’s apartment, he could feel his heart begin to race. What would Y/N think of his apartment? There was not anything embarrassing in there, in fact it was very bare. No personal decoration other than a painting Feyre had gifted him several years ago and a few things he had picked up over the centuries he had been alive. Nothing screamed home about his apartment. 

“Do you want me to wait out here?” Y/N asked.

“And let you freeze to death?” Azriel teased as he fished the unused key from his pocket. 

As they stepped inside, even Azriel was surprised at how bare everything looked. For two nights he had been used to Y/N’s apartment and her cosy decorations and furniture. He was too bland for his liking. Even the curtains were firmly shut. 

“I will only be a second,” Azriel said and entered his bedroom. 

His bedroom was not any better. The bed was still unmade from the last time he had used it, the only indicator of someone living here. He quickly fished for a small bag under his bed and shoved some clothes within it. He gave his bedroom one final look before exiting. When he entered the living area, he found it now filled with light. 

“There,” Y/N said. “Now it doesn’t feel so cold here.”

She stood by the curtains and the soft light shining from behind her made her look ethereal. Even her just standing within his bare apartment made it feel more like a home. 

“Ready to go?” Y/N asked, interrupting Azriel from his thoughts.

“Oh,” Azriel said. He raised the small bag he was holding. “Yes I am.”

“Then let's go,” Y/N said.

They stepped back out into the cold and Y/N immediately inked her arm with his and pulled him away in the opposite direction they had come in. “Let’s walk by the river, it's a nicer route.”

Azriel allowed her to guide him without argument. 

As they walked by the river the wind seemed to pick up and a drizzle of rain began to fall. It was cold but Azriel could handle it with ease, but Y/N was shivering and it was beginning to shake Azriel’s arm. Azriel extended his wing like he had the night they met to try and block out some of the cold but it seemed useless as the rain was coming in from the wrong direction.  

“I’m okay,” Y/N said. “But perhaps coming this way was a mistake.”

Azriel laughed quietly and pulled Y/N closer to his side. “Perhaps it was.”

As the two walked next to the river, a faint voice called; “Anything will help.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks and turned to the source of the voice. An older fae woman and a child were huddled in a small gap between two buildings, the blanket covering them was covered in holes and did nothing to protect them from the cold. Azriel tried to reach out to Y/N as she stepped away from him, still shivering. 

“Can I help you?” Y/N asked, crouching down next to the woman and child. 

The child was shivering in the older fae’s lap, lips blue. 

“Any spare change would help us or any food you have to offer,” the older fae woman said weakly. 

“Of course!” Y/N said and immediately offered the bag full of pastries. “Take them all, you need them more than me.”

“I couldn’t possibly take them all,” the older fae said. “This is simply too much.”

Y/N’s expression softened. “Of course you can. Please, I insist.”

The fae woman took the bag with hesitation as if she were afraid Y/N would take back her offer and walk away. The fae took the bag with shaking hands. Azriel looked from the fae to the child in her lap, looking close to death. His heart dropped.

“I don’t have much more to offer than the clothes on my back, so…” Y/N unwrapped the scarf from her neck and wrapped it around the fae woman’s. She then proceeded to take her gloves off and place them by the child. Finally she shrugged her thick warm coat off and draped it over the child. 

“I can’t allow you to give us your clothes!” the fae exclaimed.

Y/N gently grasped the fae’s shivering hands. “Of course you can, this blanket is not doing much in keeping your from the cold.”

“But–”

“Please, take it,” Y/N said and let go of the woman’s hands.

As she stood back up, Azriel could tell how much she was fighting the urge to shiver in front of the woman and child. The rain had began to come down heavier and The exposed alley did nothing to shield the two from it. 

Without thinking, Azriel fished his key out of his pocket. “Here,” he offered. “It is a key to an apartment around the corner. Stay there as long as you wish. I can drop by and bring some food for you in the morning.”

The older fae finally looked up to Azriel and her eyes widened, realising who he was. She looked down at her lap. “I couldn’t possibly take you up on that offer.”

“You can and you will,” Azriel said firmly. “This rain might be the beginning of a storm and I do not want the two of you out here, especially when your child is as sick as he is.”

“My grandchild,” the older fae corrected. “My daughter passed away recently.”

“More of a reason for you to get your grandson to safety,” Azriel said and placed the key on the ground next to the woman. “I am leaving my key here. If you decide not to go, that is your decision but I would highly suggest it. The rain will only get heavier from here.”

The older fae bowed her head. “Thank you both for your great kindness. Not many others have even offered us a passing glance.”

Y/N stepped forward. “I hope the two of you will stay safe.”

“We will, thanks to your kindness,” the older fae said.

Azriel and Y/N both nodded before stepping away from the woman. As they walked further down the street, Azriel turned and saw the woman walking down the street, the child wearing Y/N’s coat.

“L-l-let’s get back to m-my apartment,” Y/N said, shivering a lot now. 

Azriel’s eyes widened as he noticed the long dress she wore had soaked through and was clinging to her body. His hands immediately found themselves on her upper arms and rubbed them, trying to keep her warm. 

Y/N tilted her head to look up at him and smiled. “If you were trying to keep me warm, the first thing you would ask me to do is take off my clothes. These wet ones are only making me colder.”

Azriel blushed as she tried to avoid eye contact with her, but his eyes seemed to feel a magnetic pull toward hers. He couldn’t look away.

“Now is not the time for jokes,” Azriel said.

“But I love making you flustered, you look cute,” Y/N teased.

Azriel’s blush only deepened. 

The street was now empty and the only sound was the rain hitting the cobblestone street. Y/N shivered so much that Azriel pulled her body closer to his. “Do you trust me?” his voice was soft and quiet. He hadn’t intended it to come out that way.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” Azriel asked again, his grip tightening on her waist.

“Of course I do,” Y/N replied, not a hint of teasing in her tone. 

Azriel trailed his hands slowly down her arms, before they came to her hands. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away but he forced himself to rid that thought from his mind. He lifted them so her arms were wrapped around his neck. Y/N’s breath hitched. Their position was quite intimate, Azriel would admit. But he couldn’t pull away. 

With one quick swoop, Azriel lifted Y/N into his arms and her grip tightened on him. “I will ask again, do you trust me”?

“Yes,” Y/N said, her voice slightly breathless. “Azriel, I trust you.”

A small smile toyed on Azriel’s lips. “Good.”

It was all he said before shooting into the air.

Taglist:

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[thisisallthehattersfault]

Usually when people write about LWJ telling LXC about his sexual awakening re: WWX, it’s done for crack. Either LWJ is too sheltered and inexperienced to realize how TMI he’s being and LXC has to just grin and bare it, OR LWJ is too sheltered and inexperienced to realize how totally normal his experiences are, and LXC has to reassure him that wanting to sleep with the man he loves is perfectly fine, actually. It’s funny! It’s a cute little background thingy I’ve seen in lots of fics. I don’t have anything against it.

But. I think people maybe forget that LWJ’s whole Thing with being horny for WWX wasn’t just “pretty boy make dick hard.” Lan Wangji is a sexual sadist. His attraction to WWX brought with it the realization that he wants to hurt someone, force them, take away their autonomy and make them like it.

LWJ is a good person. For any decent person, that’s a Lot to have to grapple with! But LWJ is also the son of an atticwife. There’s a non-zero chance that he and his brother are the product of sexual assault. The guy has like. Good and valid reasons to find his sexual desires disturbing, frightening, and even repulsive.

I think it makes sense for LXC to be the person he confides in about all of this. I think there’s a lot of really interesting avenues of exploration you could take with that!

Maybe I’ll add it to The List.

[spooky-fm]

DP x DC fic: Delivery Ghost

This has been consuming my brain for weeks. Based on this post by @gummybearstastelikesadness:

Danny wakes up in the new world and, not feeling responsible for its villains (unlike the ghost attacks where he is the one who turned on the portal) decides to take a break and have a vacation. As a pizza delivery person, he brings orders to the recipients within the specified timeframe, no matter what. Certain citizens of this world are suspicious when the app lets them order to a town 2 hours away from the location ... and the delivery boy is there in under 10 minutes.

If only Danny cared about their feelings.

Part 1.

Waking up sore and confused in the middle of a random field with only vague memories of last night's events wasn't that weird for Danny Fenton. He had been Amity Park's resident hero for several years and had lived through much stranger awakenings. His list started with Vlad Plasmius's spooky basement inside a cloning tube and his parents' lab strapped to the vivisection table, and ended with places like the middle of nowhere in the Ghost Zone after an ecto-storm or a hundered-year-old abandoned maze of secret tunnels under the Masons' house after a particularly exciting date with Sam. Next to those, an ordinary-looking meadow was a welcome change. Despite that, something felt not quite right, but Danny couldn't quite focus on the feeling in his drowsy state.

Careful inspection of his body revealed that he had all of his limbs attached where they should be attached and functioning as normal. Aside from mild discomfort after lying on the cold ground for a significant amount of time he was perfectly healthy, despite splotches of dried ectoplasm and blood indicating recent injuries.

Deciding that he did not care enough to remember what those splotches were from just yet, Danny shrugged and continued his inspection. He looked around the field, trying to find any clues, tracks, or signs of civilization, and, failing to locate any, he transformed into his ghost form.

The transformation was enough of a jolt to wake him up from his morning sleepiness, forcing Danny to remember the fight with an unfamilliar ghost that appeared just as he finished fixing reindeer antlers to the top of the head of his freshly-made one-foot-tall snowman made from the first snow in the season. He had been so concerned with taking the fight away from his new porch guardian that he hadn't taken it seriously enough. Between exchanging blows and trying to find out the name of the intruder into his neighbourhood, he ended up too distracted to notice that they were not alone and got blasted with a dark-purple beam from behind.

As much as he would have liked to know more, the memory tastefully faded to black and refused to provide any further details.

'Never mind the why's and how's then,' - Danny thought, unconcerned. 'Time to consider the where's and the when's.'

Having thought that, he suddenly realised what had been bothering him from the moment he woke up. He was so busy taking stock of his physical state that he forgot to question the gentle warmth of the ground he had slept on and the decidedly non-December greenery around him.

Wide-eyed, Danny quickly flew up, searching for anything that could point him towards Amity or any other nearby town.

The vegetation did not seem too different from what he was used to, so he concluded that he probably wasn't anywhere Southern enough to be this warm in December. That suggested Clockwork shenanigans, which did not fill Danny with too much confidence.

He turned invisible, picked a random direction, and flew at a leisurely speed fully intending to enjoy the idyllic weather.

A couple of hours later, he finally came across a large enough town where he decided he would not be instantly noticed in the morning crowd. He easily found the local library and got permission to use a computer from the librarian that barely glanced at him in the dimly lit lobby. He made his way towards the two ancient computers ready to learn the local date and hopefully figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Danny wasn't truly surprised when the calendar showed a date a couple months in the past according to his personal timeline. He had spent enough time (ha!) with Clockwork to not be put off by a bit of minor time-travel. What surprised him, however, was his inability to find even a single mention of Amity Park on the internet.

Familiar forums, social media account of his friends, Amity news sources, even his personal blog that he posted blurry pictures of blob ghosts to were missing. Maps, both regular and satellite, showed a familiar but slightly different landscape where his home town should have been with a completely different name written over it.

Danny stared at the monitor with unfocused eyes. If he really had travelled in time, he would have been able to find some trace of Amity, or his friends. Searching for their names gave unhelpful results, and trying to look up ghosts and ghost attacks only led him down the rabbit hole of superheroes and something called 'The Justice League' that just gave him a headache. This led to the natural conclusion that instead of a minor instance of short time-travel he got tangled in a major instance of timeline-hopping.

He shuddered a little, remembering Dan. At least it seemed that Danny didn't exist at all in this timeline, in any shape. That turned out to be a slightly disturbing thought and Danny decided to ignore it with the practiced ease of someone who was used to rolling with the punches for the sake of his mental stability.

He wondered briefly when this world and his started to differ, but his limited knowledge of human history was not enough to give him much of a hint. He figured it was at least a couple hundred years in the past, but that was the extent of his detective abilities.

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

It was a relief to finally exit the stuffy library building and let the rays of sunshine fall on his face after several hours of researching the new world he found himself in. Despite failing to get any closer to the mystery of his appearance there, he didn't feel that upset at the change of scenery.

While walking leisurely along the tidy street, Danny contemplated the heroes and villains of this timeline. It seemed that the Justice League was the top dog when it came to the forces of good. He wasn't sure how to approach them without raising suspicion that a person suddenly coming into existence would certainly cause.

Suddenly, he was struck by a thought so alien to him that he stopped in his tracks and stared blankly ahead.

He didn't have to do anything!

There were no ghost attacks in the news, and thus probably no portal to the Ghost Zone. He hadn't opened a doorway between the Infinite Realms and Earth, and there was nobody who needed help that couldn't be given by any of the local heroes.

Danny realised that didn't feel any pressing need to protect this world. That little part of his core that was always anxious about Amity, about Sam and Tucker, and about the rest of the world was now blissfully quiet. Danny smiled at that, shaking his head and continuing his walk towards what seemed to be a small river.

He also began to notice the stares people around were directing at him and tried to get lost in the crowd - with little luck. It almost seemed that having drawn the attention of the locals, he was standing out as an obvious outsider.

He was starting to get annoyed at the constant attention, when he noticed his ragged sleeve and recalled that he was in fact still covered in suspiciously blood-looking greenish blots. He considered the fact that it was actually blood from his already-healed small scratches was irrelevant. 

Cursing quietly, Danny quickly turned into a shady-looking alleyway and made his escape from the public eye by going invisible.

He decided to continue on his course towards the riverside in this way, while mulling over the earlier revelation. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that it was a great idea to take a break and get some rest from ghostly affairs. And if he really wanted to go back, he could always find a way to open a portal into the Ghost Zone and find Clockwork. His sort-of mentor, sort-of father figure wouldn't mind helping him with a little nudge towards the right timeline, would he? Besides, the guy probably knew all about Danny's little jaunt across realities. Since there was no sign of him or his cryptic advice, it was entirely reasonable that he approved of the whole thing.

So it was decided: Danny Fenton was going on vacation.

He flipped in the air in excitement and started flying away from the town. Giggling a little at the fact that he still didn't know the name of the first town he visited in this timeline, he froze in place as something occured to him: He had no money, no possessions and didn't know where to go.

Despite not technically needing food or shelter as a ghost, he didn't want to spend his vacation hiding away under his invisibility. And what sort of vacation would it be if he had no money to spend on fun things like videogames and hot dogs?

He figured the solution was simple: He'll just have to find a job.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

I Know.

A/N: Cursed with insomnia again. Here’s what I wrote last night.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN; reader has nightmares and nonspecific trauma) 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings and tags: angst; nightmares (not described); hurt comfort

Summary: Sometimes, the people who have the most complicated history with you are the ones who know you best. Set pre-Skako Minor.

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You awoke with a flinch. Your heart raced as you stared into the darkness, the pulse of it thundering in your ears. Your breath came fast and hard, and you forced yourself to slow down and breathe through your nose. Gradually, your body let go of the panic, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Not when you knew what waited for you once you drifted into unconsciousness.

You sat up slowly, pausing to clear your head before you slipped out of the bunk. As quietly as you could, you made your way to the front of the Marauder, grabbing your datapad as you passed the data terminal. Judging by the snores, Wrecker and Tech were out cold, but you’d be willing to stake every last credit in your account that your pounding heart had awakened Hunter before you even opened your eyes. Still, he was silent as you moved stealthily to the cockpit.

It was strange to be back on the Marauder after all this time. Familiar, yet different. The squad welcomed you back with varying degrees of enthusiasm—or at least acceptance—but there was a distance between you that had never been there before. A sense of caution, of unspoken but deep vigilance, as though you all felt a compulsion to weigh your words before speaking. The easy laughter, the banter, the closeness and connection—it was though none of it had ever existed.

The faint glow of the instrument panel illuminated Crosshair’s lean form as he sat in the pilot’s chair, arms folded over his chest as his long legs stretched out in front of him. He glanced up as you passed, but said nothing. Outside the viewport, it was far too dark to make out the landscape of the wilderness, but the stars above shone brilliantly through the unclouded atmosphere. You curled up in the copilot’s seat and wordlessly flicked on your datapad. 

You tried to read. The holonovel you opened seemed too daunting, so instead you scrolled through your usual collection of holonet sites for a long while, but your brain refused to process any of the text. Your eyes felt heavy and gritty, and the words seemed to blur together no matter how hard you squeezed your eyelids shut to try to clear your vision. Eventually, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest.

“You all right?” Crosshair’s voice was barely audible.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered without opening your eyes.

“Still?”

“Yeah.”

You both fell silent for a moment. The pilot’s seat creaked as he adjusted.

“Same nightmare after all this time?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You opened your eyes and rotated your head toward him, only to find that he was already watching you, his dark, intense eyes unreadable in the dim light.

“You ever talk to anyone about it?” 

You shook your head. “Just you. The others—they don’t understand. They don’t know. The details.”

“They still care, though,” he said quietly.

“I know. I just…” You swallowed. “Can’t. I don’t want them to know.”

He didn’t reply, only watched you.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t want them to see how broken I am.”

The silence stretched out for a moment, before he replied very quietly. “I never saw you that way.”

Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred for an instant before the tear overflowed from the corner of your eye and slid down your temple. You could barely see a damned thing in the dark, but Crosshair saw you. He always had.

Slowly, he reached out and smoothed the tear off your skin, then he dropped his hand to your wrist and gently but insistently tugged on you until at last you complied with his unspoken request, crossing the short distance to the copilot’s chair and settling onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and coaxed your head down to rest on his shoulder as you curled your legs up and around his body.

“I don’t want to fall back asleep,” you confessed, feeling slightly ashamed of your childish fear.

He stroked your hair. “Then… don’t sleep. Stay with me.”

You nuzzled softly against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. It had been such a long time, but you’d know it anywhere. 

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” he whispered.

The weight of lost time was heavy in the silence before you replied. “I thought you might prefer it if I left you alone.”

His jaw brushed against your forehead as he turned to look down at you. “I don’t mind having you here.”

The tension in your body gradually drained away as you relaxed against him, lapsing once more into silence. He rested his cheek against the top of your head as his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your shoulder. Your heavy eyes began to drift shut, your anxiety lulled away by the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the steady thump of his pulse beneath your ear.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you whispered.

His only response was a quiet, brief hum at the back of his throat, but he pressed his lips against your hair. You raised your hand slowly and trailed your fingertips from the corner of his jaw, down the line of his neck, to the notch at the base of his throat, and when you reached his chest, you flattened your palm against him, directly over his heart. His hand closed gently around yours, holding it there, and you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered. “Holding you like this.”

“Me, too.”

You relaxed further against him, and he tightened his arms around you, holding you securely so you didn’t slip off his lap. When you spoke again, your voice was very soft.

“Cross?”

“Mhm?”

You hesitated a moment before you whispered, “Why did we end it?”

He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t even change the pattern of his breath, but you could hear his heart speed up at your whispered question.

“I don’t remember,” he replied.

You took a few slow, shallow breaths. “Me either.”

His hand glided slowly up your shoulder until he reached the back of your neck, and he stroked his thumb along the shell of your ear.

“We were good together, weren’t we?” he asked quietly.

You tilted your head and brushed your lips against his neck in a caress so feather-light it was almost imperceptible.

Almost.

“The best,” you whispered.

He swallowed hard, the sound plainly audible to your ears. The two of you sat unmoving for a long, long time, simply holding each other. He took a shaky breath.

“I—” his voice failed, and he fell silent again.

“I know,” you whispered, kissing his neck. “I know.” You pressed your lips against his jaw, and then the corner of his mouth. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding the right words.”

The hand on the back of your neck slid up to hold your head, and he turned to gaze into your eyes, your faces so close together that you could feel his soft, warm breath on your skin.

“What can I say that would be enough?” he asked, his voice quiet and unsteady.

You rested your palm against his jaw, feeling the rough, familiar prickle of his facial hair. Your thumb stroked across his cheekbone, then over his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “I already know.” You kissed him softly. “I’ll always know you.”

He pulled you closer, cradling your head in his hands as his lips brushed against yours. His familiar taste flooded your senses. The kiss was gentle and slow, his tongue just grazing between your lips before the two of you parted reluctantly. He rested his forehead against yours as he brought his hand around to caress your cheek. 

“Do you think you could ever love me again?” he asked.

You were silent for a moment before you confessed, “I never stopped.”

The rise and fall of his chest paused for an instant, then resumed.

“Neither did I.”

---

Want more Bad Batch fics? I have two for Hunter: First Kiss ficlet (sfw) and "I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day" (very spicy).

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

[futbol16]

Make The First Move  • Fridolina Rolfö

Requests: the things i would do for a part 2 (or more:)) for princess charming/rölfö 

pls pls plscan we get a part 2 to princess charming?

Please let there be a part two. 

Word count: 3k

The long awaited part 2 to Princess Charming. I hope it was worth the wait :)

It’s not often that Fridolina stays up late. She almost never does. She valued her sleep too much to be awake for longer than necessary and everyone knew this. Which is why it surprises not only Mapi but also Magda, who’s three countries away from her, when they both get separate texts at 1am. 

Truthfully neither of her teammates should’ve been awake at this hour of the night either, but as the blondes’ eyes scan over the text, they think this is more important than getting their full eight hours of sleep. 

‘When did you know you were gay?’

Mapi’s first reaction is to grin, she grins so hard her lips almost split. She knows exactly why the Swede was asking such questions, or more so, who made her question it all.

Magda eyes the text with curiosity though, her brows furrowed together and her mouth hanging slightly agape. Was this real?

Meanwhile, Frido stares at her contacts list in nervousness as she bites at her nails, anxiously waiting for an answer from one of the two. She almost drops her phone on her face when it buzzes with notifications but she’s quick to reach for the device again. 

She gets two very different answers and she resists from rolling her eyes at one of them, only for the purpose of this actually being a serious topic for her.

‘I wasn’t completely sure until I met Pernille, but I knew the moment I looked into her eyes. Why, has anything happened?’ read the first from her captain and then her eyes moved lower to Mapi’s text.

‘Always. Girls are hot as fuck, respectfully. You fancy the German?’ her phone buzzes again.

‘Y/N Y/L/N is who I was referring to’ this time she doesn’t hold back the eye roll, though just a moment later she inhales sharply as she pictures your cocky smile in front of her. The blush that rises to her cheeks is inevitable and Fridolina pulls a face at her reaction, unsure how to digest her feelings. 

With a frustrated sigh the blonde drops her phone onto her nightstand face down and with another sigh she pulls the covers higher up her body. Frido allows herself to relax, ready to finally succumb to sleep. That doesn’t happen though, because she can’t let her mind rest. Or rather, her mind doesn’t allow her to rest. Her thoughts force her to stay awake for the next hour until exhaustion takes over her and her eyelids finally stay shut. 

The following days pass by in a similar manner; the blonde’s head in the clouds and her nails ruined from her constantly biting them. After Mapi’s initial text message, Frido assumed she would receive nothing but teasing remarks from the defender. And she did, Mapi León never one to disappoint in that area. However, she was pleasantly surprised when her friend decided to help her out, to help her figure out her feelings and her sexuality.

It was a big thing. The whole sexuality question. She had never questioned that part of herself before, always assuming that just like it was pictured in the films she grew up watching, she would have her blonde prince charming walk into her life one day and eventually there would be a ‘happily ever after’. 

It was crazy to think that all it took was one person for Fridolina to change her mind. Truthfully, it took one smile, one flash of your dazzling smile for her to pause for a moment and think about why there were butterflies in her stomach. Then it took her five days to come to terms with the possibility that you might’ve been her gay awakening. And on that same day, she realized that on top of all of that, she definitely had a thing for you. 

Some kind of thing. That’s all she could call it for now because it was so new to her, feeling like this towards a girl when she had never for a second questioned her sexuality in any way before.

Slowly though, Mapi helped her to understand these foreign feelings. Fridolina, in a weird way, was incredibly thankful for having so many gay teammates because they were all there for her, ready to answer any questions she had, ready to tell her about their own stories of ‘gay awakenings’. 

By the end of the month, she was comfortable enough with the knowledge that she wasn’t heterosexual and she allowed her friends’ teasing to resume. 

“So? Are you finally going to tell me who caused you to have your first ever gay panic?” Magda raised an eyebrow at her national teammate who couldn’t help but smile back at the screen of her phone.

“I don’t know” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” the captain’s voice cracked through the phone’s speakers. Fridolina bit back a smile, her mind already elsewhere as she thinks back to the night of that match against Bayern. The way you smirked at her after your goal, how your eyes sparkled in a playful way as she fell on you, hips flush together. 

‘Easy there, pretty girl’ your words echo in her head, your voice makes her go crazy in ways she didn’t think possible but she secretly likes the feeling.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Magda’s voice snaps her out of her daydreaming and her head snaps back towards the screen to find her captain smirking at her. Clearly, the deep blush coating her cheeks and the prolonged silence from her end of the call didn’t go unnoticed by the Chelsea captain. 

A sheepish look spreads across Frido’s face and she shrugs lightly, her smile confirming Magda’s question. 

“Come on tell me about herrr!” the excited whine makes both of them snicker before the taller of the two lets out a sigh, thoughts again occupied by you.

“She plays for Bayern Munich. And she’s strong, very strong - but all of them are, it’s like a Bayern thing - anyway. She looks so good in red. She’s like the next Alex Popp-” she’s cut off by a gasp, followed with a smack.

“Y/N Y/L/N?! SHE’S THE ONE?!” Magda exclaims loudly, gaining Pernille’s attention who’s sat a few feet away from her in the living room. Fridolina’s eyes widen, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“How did you-”

“Oh come on Frido, she's the top scorer in the Bundesliga and all of the German news is about her. ‘Y/N Y/L/N is the successor of German legend Alex Popp’. How do you not know?” the Swede recites the latest news article she’s seen and Pernille chuckles behind her girlfriend. 

“That just makes it sound like she’s Popp’s daughter” Frido pulls a face, once again. Magda now looks at her girlfriend and the two share a knowing look as she attempts to divert the topic of the conversation.

“Good choice though, very good taste” Pernille comments, now standing beside Magda as she rests an arm around her shoulders. Magda’s mouth falls open in mock hurt but the Dane is quick to ease her outburst. “What? I’m just saying she could have liked some weird hippie or something - I don’t know - as her first girl crush. Y/N’s a great choice.” 

“Yeah, I gotta give that to you” 

“Guys? I’m still here” Fridolina jokes but the two instead chuckle at her pink cheeks.

“We know, we’re talking about you in your presence.”  Magda shrugs cheekily before realization dawns on her and she grins at her Swedish teammate. “But this is perfect actually, you’ll get to see her soon!” 

“What are you talking about?” Fridolina almost drops the device in her hands, a sudden nervousness overcoming her senses.

“You guys have a friendly against the Germans this international break” Pernille informs her, seemingly knowing her schedule better than the Swede does. The couple eye their friend with slight concern as her face pales and brightens a shade of red at the same time. 

“Oh shit” 

Sure enough, just a week later Frido finds herself walking out behind her national teammates, clad in her yellow kit. She’s anxious as she subtly fidgets with the end of her shirt, yet as she turns her head to glance at your face, she knows it isn’t the game she’s nervous about. 

The match is pretty intense with both teams in their best forms but Germany manage to have more shots on goal than the Scandinavians. Unsurprisingly, it is you who scores the first goal of the game and when you celebrate you make sure to run past Fridolina, a smirk resting on your face as you raise an eyebrow in her direction. Frido can’t find it in herself to get upset at your antics, instead the tips of her ears redden and she tries to conceal the small smile on her face. 

It’s only when her eyes connect with her captain’s does she put on her game face again. She’d have time to admire you after the match. 

As much as the tall blonde tries to focus on the task at hand, it becomes apparent very quickly that she’s struggling. Just like last time, her gaze never wanders from you. It’s like you have some pull on her and more often than not the blonde has to snap back to reality after staring at you for just a bit too long. Her distraction doesn’t show in her play however, which she is incredibly thankful for but it isn’t enough for Sweden to equalize. 

The team clad in yellow does get one last chance to equalize before the final whistle would be blown and it’s in the form of a corner kick. Both teams crowd in the penalty box area and Merle Frohms can just barely see through the mass of footballers. 

The pull you seemed to have on Frido is now working in the opposite direction as you find yourself standing directly behind the blonde. It’s a tight space with both her and your own teammates pushing to get closer to one another and the goal, but amongst the many bodies, your hands find a place on your favorite Swede’s waist. 

Your hold is gentle yet firm - the opposite of your aggressive and intense style of play - and Frido immediately freezes at the touch, her eyes slightly widened and a light blush coating her cheeks. She takes a small step back as Hanna Glas’ ponytail swings in front of her and she finds herself pressed closer to you, your body heat warm against her back. 

Your own breath gets caught in your throat at close proximity and if the girl in your arms were to turn around she’d be met with a blushing mess, a rare sight from you. You swallow hard as your fingers twitch against her curves but you do pay attention to what is happening at the corner flag. 

Frido silently thanks her teammate for misplacing the ball and the referee whistling at her to fix the positioning, because it allows her to feel you close for just that bit longer. 

Her hands slowly come up to her waist and your hold loosens as you think she’s about to push your hands off. Fridolina is quick to grab them before they can leave her body and she holds them for just a second, contemplating what her move was going to be. However, your hands slip out of her fingers as you jump and head out the incoming ball from near your team’s goal.

 The blonde forward has her mouth hung open at the seemingly sudden and unexpected action. She lowers her head in embarrassment of not realizing that the corner had been taken and not doing her job at trying to head it in the goal. 

There’s not much time to dwell about her supposed mistake as just five minutes later the final whistle is blown, signaling the end of the friendly.

“Go to her” a voice rings out next to her while she shakes Lea Schüller’s hand and Fridolina turns to her captain. Magda nods her head towards your direction and her eyes follow. 

She’s met with the sight of your arm around Jule Brand’s shoulders, the young player leaning into your stronger body. The smile on your face is big and warm as you listen to Jule whose eyes shine with wonder as you press a kiss to the crown of her head. 

Fridolina’s insides melt at the protective and loving behavior from you, her heartbeat quickening as a smile washes over her expression.

“Are you sure I should?” 

“Ja, go Frido. This is your chance” Magda pushes at her shoulder gently, an encouraging expression on her face as she offers her friend a comforting smile. 

“Talk to her. She wants you too” the blonde nods in thought, wondering how Magda would know that, and her feet carry her towards you before she can think about quitting and turning around. 

The Wolfsburg player’s voice comes to a sudden halt as she eyes the Swedish woman in front of her, her head still resting comfortably on your shoulder. When Jule lifts her head and turns to you, it only takes her one look at the way you’re gazing at Rolfö and the curve of your smile to decide that she should leave the two of you alone.

“Good game” you break the silence as you stick your hand out. Fridolina’s smile is hard to miss as she takes hold of your hand but it soon turns into a nervous smile as her hand remains in your own. You’re not one to complain however and instead of letting go you gently pull on her hand.

“Come with me” you gesture towards the tunnel, far too aware of the amount of people watching from the stands of the stadium. The blonde gives you a nod and the two of you walk side by side holding hands as you hide in the tunnel. 

Thoughts are running wild as Magda’s words echo in Fridolina’s head. ‘This is your chance’ and with that the taller girl clears her throat as the two of you come to a stop in the tunnel of the stadium. Your eyes snap to her and for a moment the blonde gets lost in the warmth of your gaze. 

“So um… I wanted to tell you..” she exhales lowly, wondering how she was supposed to do this thing. You squeeze her fingers and she nods to herself. 

“I- really, uhm, I just…” Fridolina closes her eyes in frustration, dropping her head before picking it up again. The corners of your lips tick upwards, finding her nervous behavior absolutely adorable. 

When her eyes flutter open she’s met with your shimmering ones, a look of adoration plastered over your face. A hand reaches out to her face but Frido’s gaze doesn’t move from you as you gently push a strand of hair behind her ear, it having fallen out of her ponytail.

“Don’t stress that pretty head of yours.” your voice made her bite her lower lip and you smirked at the sight. 

“Just do it how you would if I were a man.” it seems like you knew exactly what made this so difficult for her. It also seemed that you knew exactly what she was going to say. ‘She wants you too’ and now she believes her captain’s statement, otherwise you wouldn’t be encouraging her to continue. 

“I can’t.” she huffed out and you chuckled quietly. “It’s different.”

“What makes it different? Other than the obvious” you reveled in the small laugh you got out of her, the sound easing the nervous tension radiating off the beautiful girl in front of you.

“I’d let him make the first move” Fridolina admitted and your smile widened as she seemed to have finally found her voice. 

You carefully placed a hand on her waist and you looked up at her in silent question, asking if what you were doing was okay. When all you received was a dazed look and a slow nod, you proceeded. The butterflies in the Swede’s stomach were going insane as you gently pulled her closer to you and her hands landed on your collar bone. 

“You’re so beautiful” you whispered, not wanting to break the bubble the two of you have created. At the same time you were thankful that both of your teams seemed to be taking their time on the pitch. Fridolina’s cheeks burned a deep shade of red at your compliment and she tilted her head to the side a little. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve never- this is just all so new to me, but I want to…” she trailed off in her confession and you nodded at her, feeling special that she allowed you to see her this vulnerable. You understood that it was difficult for her to voice just what she felt for you.

“It’s okay.” you gave her waist a gentle squeeze and smiled at the girl in front of you, the sparkle in your eyes never faltering. “We can take it as slow as you’d like”

The assurance made Frido’s heart swell yet she wanted nothing more than to allow herself to fall into your embrace. Her eyes lowered to your lips and her own mouth parted slightly. You watched how her eyes darkened and your smile was replaced with desire. 

“Maybe we can go faster” Frido breathed out as she leaned closer, your own gaze tracing the curve of her lips.

“Whatever you want” and with that you closed the last bit of distance and connected your lips. It was tentative at first as you allowed the blonde to test the waters but it seems like she already knows what she wants.

Frido’s brows knit together as pleasure courses through her whole body and her arms made their way around your neck to bring you even closer, effectively deepening the kiss. 

In that moment, with your bodies flushed and your arms around her waist holding her close and her lips attached to yours in desperation, Frido knows she has nothing to question.

You were her princess charming and she liked it that way.

[harkonnin]

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Tag list: @wo-ming-bai

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - Travel south Current Chapter - You Fought Well ***

After a good night sleep, you awaken softly to the beating of Feyd’s heart on your ear. You’re snug against his chest and his arms softly hold you in place. Nothing about his actions at the moment scream ‘psychotic’, he seems like the most normal a person could be. His lack in softness towards others is missing when he is near you. You shift a little in his arms as you look up. His facial features soft as ever, no predator to be seen.

You’re staring at this point, at how handsome he really is. His soft lips, the swoop of his nose, the cheekbones. You lose yourself in thought until you get snapped back to reality.

“You’re staring,” he softly says.

He opens his eyes, and you find yourself stuck, a deer in headlights. His eyes on you almost suffocatingly intense, even though he’s not trying to. His stare deepens as he shifts his body a little bit so he can cup your face in his large hand. You only just notice his eyes are a soft icy blue and your eyes keep darting back and forth between his. He frowns at your reaction.

“Are you scared of me my lady Na-Baroness?” he asks as his hand makes its way down your shoulders.

You swallow at his soft touch, unable to form a proper sentence at this point. You just shake your head ‘no’, and feel his hand go behind you, as it settles on your lower back. He pulls you closer, forcing both of your bodies to be flush together. His eyes go down to your lips for a split second and you understand his meaning.

You kiss him, ever so softly, your hands on his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat as he lets you take the lead for once. His hand softly hovering over your back, ever so slightly pressing you closer to him as the kiss deepens. It’s far too pure for the both of you and it almost feels unnatural to your nature, but it also feels exactly right. In that moment everything just feels as if this is all it has to be.  

As the kiss deepens, he starts to kiss your chin and jawline, working his way to your ears and throat, nipping at it like a kitten demanding milk from its mother. He feels incredibly strong, even in these softer moments. He could easily overpower you in an instant, but he wants to make you feel safe. He reaches your collarbone and looks down at your body. You’re completely naked and vulnerable, as he takes it all in.

You feel his growing erection hitting your hip and legs, wanting attention. The last thing he’ll do is beg however, as he moves his head to be alight with yours once again. He kisses you a little bit more demanding than before, heating the both of you up in the moment. Your hands have a mind of their own as they travel over his chest, rock solid. You feel his inhales and exhales as you coast over his abdomen and down his hips.

As you grab his cock softly, he lets out a breathy moan as he continues to kiss you. It only stirs you on, arousing yourself in the moment. His cock is huge, thick and throbbing at this point. You decide to tease him further, giving him the bare minimum of friction that he so craves. He’s submissive to your touch, letting you decide what would happen here. This man that was a weapon to all who met him, both in the arena and outside, made you feel protected and safe in his embrace. His patience spread thin quickly, however.

“Stop teasing me woman,” his grip on your hip stronger and more demanding.

You let out a chuckle and he will have none of it. He grabs your leg and pulls it upward a bit, draping it over his hip. Your own arousal now more prominent to you, as your folds are wet with need for him. You let out a soft moan as his grip intensifies.

“I could get used to waking up like this every morning,” you speak softly against his lips before kissing him.

He kisses you back and lowers his hand to grab his cock out of your pathetic grasp. He angles it so it rubs against your heat. The touch eliciting another breathy gasp out of you.

“Anything for my lovely wife,” he purrs over your lips as he positions his cock perfectly, as it enters you softly.

As he sinks himself deeper inside of you, you lose all thought for a moment, forgetting everything around you and just staying in this moment. It feels different from last night, much more soft and less rushed. Your heart skips several beats and Feyd seems to know, the expression on your face obviously infatuated.

His hand comes back up cupping your face in it, the action not mimicking the intense stare he held on you. It almost felt a bit too much for you, if someone had told you that there would be a Harkonnen in your future, you would have never imagined someone so sweet to you. It seemed as if everything was in your favour, it all seemed too good to be true. Feyd started to frown at you and stopped moving altogether at this point.

You didn’t notice you were crying as a tear hit his hand. His face looked worried, obviously oblivious to your thoughts. You were so overwhelmed with emotions that you had no idea how to even start to explain yourself.

“Am I hurting you?” Feyd inquired, genuinely.

You almost laughed at his question, because it seemed so trivial. You shook your head and took his hand in yours.

“I’m wondering what I did to deserve someone like you Feyd. I’m… a bit overwhelmed with happiness, sorry.” You softly spoke back.

Feyd’s eyes didn’t seem so intense anymore, as a smile crept on his features. He seemed to understand what you meant and took your hand in his again, kissing the inside of your palm repeatedly. He was so incredibly sweet, only for you.

“These are the only tears I want to give you from now on,” he spoke with determination.

A promise, a rule, that he laid upon himself. His pace starts again, this time a bit quicker than before. It takes you by surprised and you left out a pathetic moan. His hand grips your leg a bit harder than before and as he pulls it upwards, he starts to hit the spot perfectly, your moans becoming louder than before.

It only seems to spur him on however, causing him to thrust a bit harder. You were seeing white lightning at this point, the ecstasy of the feeling overtaking your mind. Feyd was panting like a dog in heat, attacking your neck, biting down as his movements mimicked the urgency of his feelings.

You grab his neck as you feel your body responding to the wonderful feeling Feyd is giving you so willingly. Your orgasm reaches you faster than you thought, making you moan loudly. Feyd pulls his head back to watch you reach your climax as he thrusts faster into you, reaching his simultaneously. He kisses you as he cums inside of you, softly slowing down his thrusts as he spends all his seed inside. You have a hard time catching your breath whilst your body tries to calm down.

Feyd keeps his cock inside of you for as long as he can, softly letting it slip out when it’s soft again. As he reaches down, he sticks two fingers inside of you and presses inwards. As he takes them back out, he puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking his seed and your wetness in one go. It’s vulgar and erotic at the same time, making your face twitch a little bit.

“You taste so sweet wife,” he purrs as he starts kissing you again.

You taste the both of you on his tongue and find yourself agreeing that it tastes rather sweet. Like sweet liquorice almost. Eventually he stops kissing you and lets you go from his grip. He gets up and makes his way to the bathing area, preparing for the day. As you lay in bed you relish in the fact that this arranged marriage could have turned out way worse.

*

The day after the wedding was important as ever as you were required to sit in on a meeting between both families. You had imagined the day to be a bit different than your family and new family discussing your sexual prowess and activity with your recent husband, but tradition is tradition for a reason.

The Baron and your father were already talking with each other when you and Feyd entered the hall together. He kept you close to him, even moving your chair closer so he’d be able to touch you whenever he wanted.  As you sat down, he waited for you to be seated before he did. The Baron took note of this and frowned slightly. You didn’t understand why, but let it slide for now, you’d be able to ask Feyd later.

“How does married life fare, Feyd? I assume you have already exerted your duties towards house Harkonnen?”, it was more a statement than a question when the Baron questioned Feyd.

From where you were sitting you could see Feyd’s jaw clench slightly. He was seething. You wonder why the Baron was the only one who could get so under his skin, wondering what trauma he was put through when he was still a child.

“My wife is none of your concern, Baron,” he spat out.

His hand made its way to your knee under the table, almost as if he sought for something to ground him and his emotions. Your hand brushed his softly under the table, and he visibly calmed down. You looked at your father to help steer this conversation to something more friendly, and he took the hint as he coughed and started to speak.

“Maybe we should discuss our allegiance, Baron, since that’s why we’re all here for,” he sounded strong and determined.

The Baron kept watching Feyd, almost challenging his stare, before lifting his eyebrows and making eye contact with your father. Feyd let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, and you clenched his hand in yours, his eyes darting towards you before squeezing your knee. He was thankful you were there even if he couldn’t tell you.

The rest of the conversation were mostly about politics between the two houses, the economics and sharing of resources, albeit way too boring at this point. They disagreed on certain topics, your father often sounding like the more mature one in the conversation. Feyd even let out an amused breath of air at one of his statements, causing the Baron to focus his attention on him again.

“Do you mock me in my own house, Na-Baron? Should I remind you that you’re not the Baron yet?”, he sounded offended and bitter.

You wonder if Feyd knew the implications of inducing the wrath of the Baron by openly laughing at him. Yet you knew nothing of their past together. Being left in the dark could make you a weakness to Feyd, you knew that.

The Baron had noticed a change in Feyd’s demeanour. An unspoken softness he witnessed yesterday in him. As Feyd looked at you he noticed something else as well. The markings you had left him the night before, the sweet love bites that blushed his white skin, embellishing the side of his neck and throat, making it clear he had allowed you to do so.

“Now I see, you’re infatuated by the witch!”, he spoke out, shooting you an accusatory glance.

Feyd shot his head back to the Baron, eyes piercing him, challenging him to offend you ever further.

“What did you call my wife?”

His voice was back, gravely and harsh, almost sounding like a snake’s hissing. He let go of your hand and slowly stood up keeping his eyes glued on the Baron. Leto spoke up.

“Keep her out if this, she has nothing to do with it,” he tried to defend you, but it seemed to divert even more so attention to you. “She’s a witch! She made her mark on you, and you let her. No Harkonnen will bow for a woman, yet you did! You showed weakness Feyd, you’ll lose the throne that way!” He barked out, making Feyd more aggressive by the second.

No one was allowed to talk about you like that, certainly not him, after what he put Feyd through his entire life. You felt his seething anger, it was like he was boiling from the inside out. You looked over to your mother, in fear of what might happen, but she reassured you.

‘He won’t attack. Keep calm.’ She signed at you.

Feyd slammed the table as you were monitoring your breathing, and you flinched.

“We are leaving,” he spits out as he turns to you and picks your hand up, a little too hard.

Your brows frown a bit at his strength but your mother nods at you to go along.

‘As planned’, she speaks to you through telepathy.

It reassures you in a way that it tells you it is safe. You don’t know what the plan is which she speaks of, but you know she would never out you in a situation where you would be harmed.

Feyd takes long strides as he pulls you along with him, passing by several guards and servants, unaware of his own strength as he’s practically crushing your hand. He just wants to be rid of the Baron and his comments, but you fear his insecurity will get the better of him. What if he thinks that you truly have bewitched him in a way?

[samfkiszka]

Paper Bag: Chapter One

Vampire!Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Hunger Hurts, and I want him so bad, oh, it kills…

★・・・・・・★

Forced to move back to your father's hometown the summer before your first year at college, you had resided yourself to the fact that the next few months were going to suck.

But that was before you were reacquainted with Danny next door. And before you got a brand new job at a dusty old bookstore run by an eccentric old woman. And before Jake walked into said bookstore, poised to turn your entire world upside down.

Word count: 7,169

Warnings (for this chapter): Light cursing, very vague mentions of a grandparent's passing, maybe some slight spelling errors… (that's literally it)

Chapter 2

Master list

taglist form if you’re interested <3

★・・・・・・★

The incessant whining of a nagging mosquito awakens you from your daydream of sunnier places and brings you back to reality; the reality that you were moving thousands of miles away from your quaint beach town to the vast green that sped past you now. Your father was busy droning on and on about how good this change was going to be. You had to stick your head out the window to stop from losing it inside the interior of his brand new car, a gift from his equally brand new job that had moved him back to his hometown. Sure, you knew deep down you were only going to be there for a summer, and then thankfully it was off to college. Three grueling months of living in this damp swamp that was being passed off as a town. Smacking the side of your neck, you pull your hand back to glance at the gruesome sight. The mosquito twitches involuntarily in your palm, surely a reaction to its untimely and swift death. You could already feel the tingling itch rising up, and by the splatter of blood drying in your hand you knew it was too late. With a sigh, you roll your windows up and turn back your dad who was grinning entirely too much for your liking. 

“Can you at least pretend to be happy about this? I know you’re only going to be here for a few months, but I would appreciate it if you tried.” 

“I just don’t see why you couldn’t have waited until after I moved out,” you grumbled. This had been a source of tension between the two of you for quite a while now. It wasn’t like you were going to make any friends. Without the help of school you were going to be utterly alone for the next summer. You already missed your friends deeply, longing to see them as soon as possible. But unless they could somehow save up enough for the cross country flight, it seemed to you that you were doomed to a summer of absolutely nothing.  

“I know it’s tough. But try to be a little understanding. You used to come here all the time with me to visit Grandma and Grandpa, remember?” He looks away from the road for a second, his face painted with hope. His smile falls when he sees the angry look you’ve been sporting for the entirety of the ride from the airport. “Come on, please, just… cut me some slack. This is going to be great for both of us.” 

You hum in response, not knowing what else to say. He sighs, gripping the steering wheel and clearing his throat as the car pulls into a gravel driveway leading to a house that is simply too big for the two of you. It was the kind of house meant for a much larger family, and in its youth that was exactly what resided between its brick walls. Your father, along with his many siblings, spent their youth terrorizing your poor grandparents until they grew up, leaving them alone. Your grandfather’s bird feeder still inhabits the front porch that you had spent many a summer afternoon occupying. You were certain that the room you had always slept in when you visited, the room that was now expressly yours, would be the exact same as it was in your childhood. Just as this house had seemed untouched by time, as did every neighboring one. 

Your father, obviously attempting to get back on your good side has hauled what little bags you had packed up the porch steps, setting them down to unlock the door. Thanks to his arrival merely a week before yours, mostly everything had been unpacked. You were silently grateful that you would not have to spend days unpacking painful memories. Not that you were in the mood to thank your father for anything in particular right now. All that was left to do was sulk in your new, yet familiar, bedroom. But before you had the chance to angrily stomp up the stairs, the old doorbell that you didn’t even know existed rang out through the house. You peer past the entry way as your dad heaves the heavy oak door open, revealing a slightly familiar face. 

“Hello, Daniel.” Your father welcomes the boy in, seeming exasperated at his appearance. If this Daniel had noticed it, he simply ignored it, grinning ear to ear and surveying the room. 

“Danny,” he corrected swiftly before continuing, “I was just wondering if-” 

As if your father could read minds he waves in your general direction, answering Danny. 

“She’s here. Not in the best of moods, but-” 

“I can hear you.” You interject, striding into the room and taking Danny’s appearance in. He was wearing a shirt that seemed too small for him, and his remedy for this was clearly chopping the sleeves off. He was too tan for the apparent lack of sun in this town, and he took every opportunity to flash his perfect teeth at you. 

“Hey! It’s nice to finally see you again!” He reaches his hand out and you take it hesitantly. His skin is far too warm considering it was barely sixty degrees outside. 

“Again?” 

“You remember the Wagners, don’t you honey?” Your dad casually drops the name as if it would enlighten you any further. It’s not like you had ever spent longer than a week here. Of course you didn’t remember the Wagners. 

“I’m Danny, I live across the street from your grandparents- well, from you guys,” He offered, dropping your hand and casually stuffing his back into the pockets of his shorts, “You used to hang out with my sister when you were younger.” 

You rack your brain, trying to pull up any memory that would help. You get vague flashes of a boy your age, somehow recalling a sister slightly younger than the two of you that you always preferred to play with. 

“Oh!” You gasp, feigning surprise and hoping it satiates both him and your father, “Yes Danny and Josie. Of course I remember you two.” 

“Daniel has been stopping by all week asking when you’d be here,” Your dad mumbles to you, and if this information embarrassed Danny he surely doesn’t let it show.  As if tired of this boy’s presence, your father drifts out of the room leaving just the two of you to talk. 

“Sorry about all that,” you mumble apologetically, “I’ve been in a shitty mood all day, I think I set him off.” 

“No, It’s definitely my fault. I really have been bugging him all week,” Danny laughs so effortlessly that it almost puts you at ease. Maybe you weren't as friendless as you thought you’d be. “Josie went to summer camp this summer and I’ve been insanely bored,” he explains. 

“You didn’t go with her?” 

“Nah, too old. Kinda thought I’d stay here and cause a bunch of trouble,” he laughs easily again, “Plus, I’ve got a summer job down at the golf course. Certified cart boy,” he finished with a sense of unearned pride and you bite back a laugh that was sure to come off as harsh. 

And in all honesty, a summer job didn’t seem like an awful idea. Sure, you knew it was a bad idea to set down roots considering you were leaving soon enough; but, could it really hurt to make a few friends?  To have a reason to get out of the house every day? And it’s not like a little extra cash wouldn’t help. 

“Are they still hiring?” You ask, your voice laced with hope. 

“No,” he frowns, looking sincerely sorry that he won’t be able to offer you a job. “But I heard the bookstore down on Sun Avenue is looking for a cashier, ” He added with another pearly white grin. 

Sun Avenue. How ironic, you think to yourself, mulling over the idea. A bookstore doesn’t sound half bad anyway, in fact it seemed a near perfect fit for you. 

“That would actually be great! Is there a number I could call, or-” 

“No, don’t worry. I know the owner!” He beamed. Of course he knew the owner. Danny seemed like he knew the entire town. “If you want to meet me there tomorrow, I can introduce you to Mrs. Palmer. I’m sure she’ll love you. She’s pretty desperate too, most people leave during the summer. I bet she’d hire you on the spot.” 

“Yeah, trust me, I’d rather spend my summer anywhere but here too.” 

“It’s not all that bad,” he mumbled, a look of hurt crossing over his otherwise overly joyous face, “You can always hang out with me.” 

You felt bad for a moment. For a boy you barely knew you were eager to make him smile and laugh again. It was nice to have someone in your corner despite your unwillingness to be here. 

“That’s true. I’d love to hang out with you. And, yeah I can meet you at the bookstore tomorrow. I really appreciate it,” you reply earnestly, unable to stop the smile that spread across our face mirroring his own. His positive energy was honestly infectious.

“Great! I can meet you there tomorrow around noon!” He beams, bouncing with excitement and making his way to the door. Your dad reemerged from wherever he had been hiding as soon as Danny left. 

“That kid has got to be on something,” he shakes his head, eyeing the door like Danny could bust in at any moment. “Or maybe I’m not used to someone smiling that much.” He nudged your side, attempting to get back in your good graces.  

“Hah hah hah,” you mumble sarcastically, rolling your eyes and beginning your trek upstairs to your room. The door creaks open and you are pleasantly surprised to see your dad had decorated it in an almost identical fashion to your old room. Staring at the posters that adorned the walls, you started to feel like maybe you had never left home at all. The bed was even slightly bigger than your old one, a concession you were pleased to make. Flopping down with a huff, you glare at the ceiling, noticing the glow in the dark stars you had foolishly placed up there one year were still stuck to the ceiling. 

Exhaustion from your early flight washed over you. You were never really a morning person. Fighting the urge to fall asleep you gently lift up, staring out the window at the setting sun. The clouds covered up what could be a beautiful scene, the usual pink and orange hue you were used to back home suddenly replaced by gray and green. You pull the purple curtains closed, grimacing at the ugly hue you had picked out when you were younger. Maybe you’d be able to convince your dad to replace them with newer ones. You were, afterall, displaced and depressed. 

The floorboards were awfully loud as you went from room to room, making a mental map of each one. Your father had left his parents’ room untouched, evident in the fact that your grandmother’s glasses still sat on her nightstand. You smile softly, not lingering too long before you make it to the bathroom to ready yourself for bed. Everything in this house seemed to make unnecessary noises, the knobs on the sink squeaking as you turned them around to allow the water to flow out. After a confusing few moments of trying to find where your father had put everything, you were ready and back in your room. Your bed was a lot more comforting than you recalled, lulling you to sleep quickly. Not even the nervousness of meeting up with Danny could keep you up. Soon enough you were gone, dreaming of home. 

But the good dreams didn’t last as long as you had hoped. What started off as a pleasant image of your old backyard full of friends and sunshine was soon replaced with something much darker. You can’t quite make out the scene, but soon you were thrashing against the covers and slamming a hand to your neck. When you pull it back a speckle of blood is adorning your fingers. You realize with a groan that you had scratched the mosquito bite so hard in your sleep that it had begun to bleed. You had dark blood under your nails and you wince at the faint burning feeling that now plagued your skin. Shaking your head as if it would expel the dream, you lean up to peer at the alarm clock settled on the bedside table. 

Despite your rowdy dreams you had managed to sleep in well past when you had planned to wake up. Massaging your temples you remember your promise the day before to meet Danny at the bookstore. 

Ambling sleepily across the expanse of your new room you tore your curtains open to reveal another gloomy day. Somehow you managed to get ready with clothes scattered around several open suitcases and your vague remembrance of where your dad had put everything from the night before. Traipsing down the stairs, you peer into your dad’s office, mumbling a good morning that he barely acknowledges as he continues to work on something clearly more important. The kitchen is all but barren and you wonder how he had been surviving the week before you got here. You make a mental note to stop at the grocery store after the bookshop, and you leave a note on the fridge for your dad telling him where you were going.

The walk into town is uneventful, but you are shocked that you somehow remember how to get there. It’s like your feet carry themselves, subconsciously remembering this area from when you were younger. Your odd dreams from last night are distant in your mind, and you ignore the nagging thoughts that urge you to go back to it. Soon enough you’re standing outside Palmer’s Books and More!, greeting an always cheerful Danny. He had traded his sleeveless tee for a somewhat more appropriate outfit, one that you soon realized was his work uniform, yet he still sported his pearly white grin. 

“You okay? You look a little tired,” he teases, poking your side and earning a glare from you. 

“Gee, thanks,” you grumble, smoothing out your shirt and suddenly feeling very nervous, “I didn’t sleep great last night. Do I really look that bad?” 

“No! You look great!” He flushed, but came back quickly. “Mrs. Palmer is gonna love you, I swear.” 

You frown, anxiety coursing through your body. He pushes through the door and the two of you are immediately greeted by an older lady, who you assumed to be Mrs. Palmer. She was smaller than the both of you, her stature swallowed by the oversized white sweater she was wearing. Everything else about her seemed too big in comparison to her height. Her glasses covered half her face, magnifying her piercing eyes. She grinned at Danny, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“Hello, Daniel! You brought a visitor?” Everyone in this town was entirely too cheerful for you, you decided. 

“Yes ma’am. This is my friend I was telling you about! The one that just moved here.” 

You don’t have much time to wonder when he had had the time to talk to her about you specifically. You introduce yourself, leaning down to shake her hand. You are thoroughly surprised when she pulls you in for a hug instead, knocking the wind out of you. Danny stifled a giggle and you mentally prepared to kick him as soon as you were out of view from anyone who could chastise you for it. 

“Oh, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you,” she began rambling, “I knew your father when he was just a baby. I went to school with both of your grandparents. Well, it was just a tragedy when they- But, of course… Yes, that is simply the passage of time. I missed your family dearly, I am so pleased that you’re back.” 

Not knowing what to say in response to all that, you simply smile as she pulls back and wipes a lone tear from her eye. 

Was everyone in this town crazy? You wonder, as she leads you and Danny around the store. Despite obviously being here a thousand times before, Danny listened in awe as she explained the history of the store and where everything was located. She never once offered you the job, seemingly operating under the conclusion that you were without a doubt the newest- and only other- employee of her shop. Not that you minded in the slightest; the idea of a formal interview was much more frightening than whatever this was. 

“So… Can you start today?” She asks, wringing her hands together. She had a curious habit of pausing as she spoke, starting sentences and never quite finishing them. 

“Today?” you try to hide the shock in your voice. It’s not like you had planned much today besides restocking the empty kitchen, but you wouldn’t mind the mind numbing tasks. The job didn’t seem very hard, and not a single customer had walked in since you and Danny had begun your little tour. 

She stared up at you hopefully, and you felt your stomach twist. How could you say no? 

“Uh- Yes! Yes, of course, I can start right now!” You try to sound as excited as possible, eyeing Danny nervously as he continues to sport his all too familiar smile. Surely this wasn’t how real jobs operated.

“Amazing!” He clapped his hands together loud enough that you almost jumped, “I’ll come visit you after I get off and we can walk home together.” He bounces out of the store, waving at the both of you. 

Mrs. Palmer vanished for a moment, coming back with a name tag that she had hurriedly scrawled your name on. She explained how the cash register worked,  and although it was very intuitive, you were grateful for the extra explanations. The longer you focused on menial tasks the less time you had to dwell on everything; your new home, your new friend, your strange dreams. Of course as soon as she realized you understood, she vanished once again. 

Your shift passed by slowly, only a handful of people stopping by to purchase new arrivals you had never heard of. A few of them recognized you, reaching across the counter to hug you or shake your hand. You were almost ashamed to admit that you did not know who any of them were. Your theory that everyone who lived here was entirely too gleeful was proven even more correct with each passing hour. Despite the gloomy weather, everyone brought in the same cheery disposition, and as the sun began to set you wondered how you could ever fit in without radiating the same sunshine they all did. The store was mere moments from closing when the door rang once more, causing you to look up from the paperwork Mrs. Palmer had asked you to fill out as part of your unofficial application. 

This customer seemed different from the rest of the earlier visitors. For one, the grin that graced his face was nowhere near as ear splitting as everyone else’s. It was better described as a smug smirk. Secondly, the almost blinding paleness of his skin felt more fitting for this weather than the tan everyone else was sporting. He almost floated around the shelves, and you tried not to stare as his long fingers danced over the books. He chuckled at seemingly nothing, and you shook yourself out of your stupor. You hadn’t meant to look for so long; well, you hadn’t planned on getting caught. Surely, no one could blame you for being unable to pry your eyes off of him. You have never seen someone more beautiful. His long brown hair fell in slight waves past his shoulders, framing his nearly bare chest. He was wearing a black button up, opting to leave only the bottom two buttons fastened. His neck was adorned with several silver necklaces, and despite the setting sun he had a pair of circular black sunglasses covering his eyes; which you were sure were just as gorgeous as the rest of him. His face was nearly indescribable and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from attempting to take in every detail. In fact, every prior thought had left your brain; you were absolutely consumed by this man. You take him in again, trying to drink in every small feature that made him up. You slowly realized he couldn’t be much older than you. Once the haze wore off you were able to digest his almost boyish face. You were just wondering if Danny knew him when you heard him let out a sharp laugh at absolutely nothing. 

The sound jolted you from your thoughts and you suddenly felt the need to pay attention to anything but him. You fix your eyes on the old cash register, pretending to be extremely occupied with the amount of money in it when he suddenly clears his throat. You jump back, wondering how he had made it across the store so quickly when he smirks again. Any other person would have you rolling your eyes at their superior attitude, but something about him made you shrink back. 

“Hello. I was wondering if you had Candide in stock yet?” His voice was sickeningly sweet, as if his tongue was dripping in honey as he spoke. 

“Candide?” 

“You know… Voltaire?” He continues, pulling his sunglasses off to reveal a pair of striking ochre colored eyes. 

“I.. I literally just started today. Um, I could help you look… I-” You stammer out as Mrs. Palmer comes ambling out of her office. 

“Jacob!” She exclaims happily, holding a rather worn book gently in her frail hands. 

He slightly bows to meet her, graciously accepting the book from her and gently tucking it under his arm. 

“Thank you, Evelyn. How much do I owe you?” 

You couldn’t help but huff out in annoyance at his dismissal of you. For some odd reason you felt the need to prove yourself to him. He grins again, letting out a quiet chuckle you were sure Mrs. Palmer didn’t hear. 

“Absolutely nothing!” She waved dismissively, quickly turning back to her office. 

“Don’t be silly!” he called, pulling a black leather wallet out of his pants. He pulled out several bills, pulling her back and slipping them into her palm in a discreet handshake. “I have more money than I need and nothing to do with it.” He smiled sweetly, his pink lips stretching across his rather pale skin. His soft, yet alluring, voice seemed oddly familiar to you. Maybe you had met him before, years ago. It’s not like this was a very large town. Mrs. Palmer flushed, waving him off but still pocketing the cash he had handed to her. She waves a quick goodbye, fluttering back to the office she so enjoyed to disappear to. 

Yet, Jacob stayed put, only turning to you once you both heard the slam of the office door. 

“I don’t think I know you,” He whispers, his boots making quiet clicking noises on the linoleum floor. 

“I… Well my dad and I, we just moved back here. Um, I used to come here every once in a while though. My grandparents live here, or they did before-” you cut yourself off, feeling like you were telling him entirely too much.

“Hmm.” He hums as he flips through his recent purchase. He was much too nonchalant for your liking. Usually, you would prefer this kind of behavior, especially after spending a day interacting with some of the most cheerful people you had ever met. But you wanted, no you needed, him to like you. “And, you are…?” He inquires, and you quickly respond with your name. 

“And you’re Jacob.” You posit. 

“Mhm. Just Jake is fine.” 

Jake didn’t seem as fitting as Jacob, which truthfully didn’t seem to fit him very well either. He seemed like he belonged in a century much earlier than this one. The way he spoke, the way he held himself, he just simply did not seem real. 

“You’re not walking home alone tonight are you?” He wondered aloud, barely addressing you, and you immediately felt defensive. 

“No, my friend is walking me back.” 

“Good. You have no idea what kind of… monsters are lurking these streets,” He leans across the counter slightly, his face inches from yours. The teasing lilt in his voice only served to intrigue you more.

As if you summoned him Danny comes sauntering in, his usual grin fading as soon as he spots Jake. Jake had pulled back the second the bell attached to the door rang, and he turned gracefully on his heel. 

“Ah, Wagner. Nice to see you again,” Jake’s smug smirk was back, and Danny grimaced at his words. 

“Kiszka,” he grumbles, skirting past Jake. Jake glides out, and Danny follows him with his eyes until he is fully out of the store. “God, that guy gives me the creeps.” He shivered to emphasize his point.

“You know him?” you ask as you gather your things, shooting a quick goodbye to Mrs. Palmer. 

“I know of him. He moved here like two years ago with his brothers. They’re all really weird. Their younger brother went to school with us but he never really bonded with anyone. They kind of all just stick to themselves. Well, Jake goes out and about a lot, mostly at night,” He begins, holding the door open for you as you both start down the sidewalk and towards your houses. He glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot before continuing, “I kind of feel bad for them. No parents, no other family, just each other. But, they’re kind of… freaky,” he whispered the last word and you giggled at his reluctance to speak freely. 

“Don’t laugh! I swear, that guy is everywhere.” He glanced around him as if to emphasize his point.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were scared Daniel.” You tease him, nudging his side. But he didn’t laugh back. 

“I'm serious. I’d stay away from that guy, there’s something super off about him.” 

“He seemed okay to me.” You shrug, more intrigued than put off. “What do you mean they have no family?” 

“I don’t know a ton about the story, just what I heard from around. But… I think their mom and dad died a few years back. Maybe a car accident or something? And as soon as Jake was old enough he adopted Sam, even though they aren’t much older than him. I’m not sure how it works honestly. They live in this huge house just outside of town. No clue how they afford it, none of them work,” he scoffed, obviously annoyed by their mere presence in his town. 

You hummed, taking in all that Danny had said. And yet all you could think about were his striking eyes… and how beautiful his face was. You didn’t really care if Danny thought he was dangerous. From what you learned, he seemed like he had been through a lot, especially for someone so young. 

“I know I can’t control you, but just be careful, okay? He really gives me the willies.” 

You had arrived at your front door. The glow from the porch light illuminated his face, which was creased with worry. 

“The willies? I can protect myself, I promise.” You take his hand and wrap your pink around his, “Pinky promise,” you emphasize. 

He smiled softly again, squeezing your finger and reluctantly letting your hand go. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Can’t let you walk to work alone.” 

“Not with all those monsters, huh?” You tease. 

“Yeah, yeah. No monsters. See ya,” he calls, already heading over to his house. 

“Night, Danny.”  

With a sigh you heave open the heavy front door, waving goodnight to your father who was so entrenched with work he was barely able to acknowledge you. Trudging up the creaky stairs, you wondered how so much had changed in the span of twenty-four hours. With the prospect of a biweekly paycheck and a slightly overbearing new friend, living in this sunless town seemed slightly more bearable. Not to mention your meeting of a rather… interesting stranger. You tried to push all thoughts of Jake out of your brain, to absolutely no avail. Something about him invaded all your senses from the moment he stepped into that damn bookstore. 

You fall onto your bed rather ungracefully, shoving your face into your pillow and groaning. Barely a day in this town and you’ve already developed a slightly unhinged and rather unhealthy obsession with a stranger you barely just met. Part of you hoped that he would be a regular customer, and from his interaction with Mrs. Palmer, you were sure he would be. You’d be sure not to mention your secret hope to Danny, considering his reaction to the very short interaction he shared with Jake. Danny’s odd prejudice aside, he hadn’t said anything truly worrying about the man. 

You slept peacefully that night, no more strangely vivid dreams to plague your mind. In fact, when you woke up you had absolutely no memory of dreaming at all. 

Work was agonizingly slow the next morning. Even the walk to the store with Danny was surprisingly uneventful. It didn’t help that the entire day you had been hoping to catch a glimpse of Jake. Even just his passing silhouette in the street would ease the slight ache in your chest. You weren’t one to obsess like this, especially not over a man you didn’t know. But you longed to get to know him, to learn what made him so intoxicatingly alluring,

And to your surprise, and satisfaction, he did show. In fact, an entire week passed and he visited every single night you occupied the space behind the register. 

Nothing out of the ordinary happened. He would come in, speak to you softly, purchase a worn book, and leave the store as soon as Danny popped back in to escort you home. You had grown increasingly fond of this routine. Deep down, you assumed this is all you were going to get from him anyway. 

That was until Saturday night.

Of course, he caught you entirely off guard when he arrived. He glided in gracefully, once more at night, all while you were absentmindedly stocking a dusty front shelf. He cleared his throat calmly when you failed to notice his arrival, and you nearly jumped ten feet in the air at the abruptness of it all. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,”  He murmured casually, his voice just as velvety as you remembered. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m pretty easily startled,” You chuckle nervously, wiping your hands on your pants and turning to give him your entire attention. “Can I help you with anything?” You try to ignore the slight shaking in your voice as you fail to look him fully in the eyes. 

He had opted to forgo the pair of glasses he usually wore when you crossed paths, leaving his extremely vibrant eyes on full display. Once again he was wearing an almost completely unbuttoned shirt, allowing you to take in the expanse of his bare chest. He was close enough now that the barrier of  the front counter was gone that you could make out the dangly pendants that decorated his neck in extreme detail. 

“Maybe,” he mused, a pleasant look washing over his features, “I’m looking for another book.” 

“Yeah, most people who come in are looking for books,” you try to tease, failing to do so when your voice shakes slightly. “Anything in particular?”

“No. If I'm being quite honest I came in here to see you again,” he professed, grabbing a book and flipping through the pages before sliding it back into its proper position. “I seem to have failed to come up with a good enough lie in time though… I had more than enough time to.” 

“Honesty is usually the best policy.” You steady yourself, trying to ignore the quickening pace of your heart at his admission. He smiles widely, and you wondered if he could somehow hear the palpitations. 

“Usually. Sometimes it’s much more appealing to lie,” He paused for a moment, seeming pensieve, “I wouldn’t mind rereading something by Camus.” 

“You’re really into French literature, huh?” You ask, leading him down to the aisle where you were sure to find something by his requested author. “You know, most people come in here looking for a good romance novel. Maybe a really bad mystery. You might be the only person who’s ever seen this part of the store.” 

“I find that most people here don’t look that deeply.” 

You wondered if this had something to do with how people thought of him. Throughout your morning walks with Danny you had come to learn that he wasn’t the only person in the town that harbored negative feelings towards the elusive Kiszka brothers. You still couldn’t quite understand why. He seemed more than perfectly fine to you. 

“Ah…” he whispered, pulling a battered copy of The Stranger off the shelves. He blew the dust off the cover and turned it over in his hands. “I always enjoyed Camus' perspective on life.” 

“Really? So, ‘life has no meaning and death is the only certainty in life?’” 

“I said I enjoyed his viewpoints, not that I agreed with them. I simply find them entertaining. Death is never guaranteed, and life certainly isn’t without purpose.”

“So what do you suppose is the purpose of life?” You continue, choosing to ignore his claim that death isn’t everyone’s promised ending. 

“Isn't it all about creating your own purpose?” he observed, finally looking back up at you. He studied your face for a moment, and you felt overwhelmed by the sudden attention. You thought, for just a mere moment, that his eyes flickered down to your lips before they skirted back up to your eyes. You shied away from his eye contact, coughing nervously and turning back to face the shelf. 

“Very philosophical Jacob.” 

“Jake,” he corrected. 

The two of you stood in silence for a beat, and you were completely unsure of what to say next. You had glossed over his profession of coming in to simply see you, and now you wished you hadn’t. On a better day, with someone who was easier to talk to, you would have teased him. Maybe even mustered up the courage to flirt with him. But something about Jake terrified you.

He cleared his throat again, and you were pleased to find him looking ever so slightly nervous himself. 

“I was… I was wondering if you would like to go out with me one night.” The words lacked his usual self assuredness, which shocked you slightly. 

You tried to stop your jaw from completely detaching from your skull. Surely you had gone so far past the point of delusion that you were now hallucinating- rather vividly, you might add- that Jake was… asking you out. He seemed to grow impatient and slightly frustrated with your lack of a response, and yet he composed himself better than you could dream of. 

“Go out? Me?” You mentally punch yourself for not being able to come up with a better response. Your desperate need to make him like you only grew stronger with each interaction. You wondered if he knew how he affected you, and by the way you could barely look at him you were sure he did. 

“Preferably. I’d hoped I made that clear,” he laughed, and your heart skipped a beat. You wondered if his was pounding quite as hard as yours. He smirked again at absolutely nothing. 

“Um,” it was like you had forgotten every word in the English language. This was so thoroughly unlike you. Usually you had more than enough to say. 

Say something! Anything! 

Your brain was positively screaming at you in a voice that surely didn’t belong to you. 

“Yes. I would love to,” you say definitively, unsure how you had even gathered the ability to speak when he was staring at you so intensely. 

“‘Perfect. Tonight?” His tone was eager and you wanted to soak in the hopeful look that knitted his brows together. 

“I- Danny. Danny’s already walking me home tonight…” 

Goddamn Danny. 

As if on cue, he sauntered through the door of the building. He was less than pleased with Jake’s nightly visits, and he didn’t bother to hide it. He was never anything less than frustratingly punctual to interrupt your conversations. It seemed his slight distaste surrounding him had grown to near hatred. He always seemed to grimace when you brought him up, despite your attempts to not sound too interested when you spoke his name. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind walking home alone without you for just one night.” Jake’s usual velvety voice was back in your ear. 

You began to say something before Danny had fully made his way to where you and Jake were standing. You instinctively stepped away from Jake, not really understanding why. Danny’s usual grin slowly faded into a scowl, and you wished you could understand why he harbored such a strange resentment for him. 

“C’mon, I wanna get home soon. I think it’s about to start raining,” Danny mumbles, reaching for your arm. He was staring daggers at Jake while he spoke. 

“Wait- Just one second Danny,” you give him a sympathetic look, hoping he can sense that you need a moment alone. He grumbles under his breath and steps away, just enough that you can still see his tense shoulders as he leans against a wall opposite you and Jake. 

“I’m sorry, he’s just…” you pause, searching for the right words, “How about tomorrow night? I’m off, you can pick me up at home?” You suggested, worried he would hate the idea. 

“Of course.” He smiled as you rushed to the front, scribbling your address down on a scrap of receipt paper. 

“Beautiful,” he says, staring down at the smeared red ink, “I’ll see you at 6.” 

That’s all he leaves you with as he walks out of the store, not bothering to bid Danny a passing glance. You suddenly feel like you’re going to pass out as Danny turns to face you, the anger on his face replaced with a pleased look. He was always happy to see you. He gives you a moment to gather your things and you walk in silence for a while. You can tell he’s itching to say something by the way he’s bouncing around and refusing to meet your face. 

“Danny, if you don’t spit it out I’m going to go crazy,” you eventually announce, surprising so much so that he stops in his tracks. 

“I just… wanted to know what you guys were talking about is all.” 

He sounded like a dejected child, and any other night you would have laughed at his immature tone. But tonight your nerves were entirely too ramped up to indulge his antics. 

“He kind of asked me out,” you state matter of factly. 

“Kind of?” 

“Okay, not kind of. He’s- he’s taking me ... somewhere tomorrow night.” You winced, scared that he would… Well, you couldn’t imagine him angry. But you were more than aware that he didn’t like Jake, and he certainly wouldn’t enjoy you going on a date with him. 

To your surprise, he didn’t say anything. This was more than shocking considering he had spent the past few nights on a nonstop tangent about the Kiszka family. You learned about the three brothers: Jacob, Joshua, and Samuel. You learned about the big house that was occupied on the outskirts of town, the big house that no one had ever really visited. For someone who seemingly couldn’t stand the family, Danny knew quite a bit about them. You figured it was unfair that you knew so much about Jake, regardless of how true it was, when he knew nothing about you. You supposed that would be amended tomorrow night, though. 

Danny told you about the youngest, Sam, and how he had excelled in school. According to him, Sam was smart enough to be accepted into any Ivy League college. And yet, he stayed in this little town that had nothing to offer. You found that endearing, though you were sure not to reveal that insight to Danny. He never shared a single piece of information that would allow you to understand why he distrusted them, and you had begun to wonder if he ever had a real reason. 

And despite all this, he stayed silent. You had spent those earlier nights wishing he would shut up about Jake, and now you found yourself silently begging him to say something again. Even if he screamed, cursed you out, begged you not to go out with him. 

Why do you care so much? The little voice from earlier whispered in your head. You didn’t have an answer. 

Danny walked in stunned silence until he stopped at the last lamppost before reaching both of your houses. When he finally spoke it startled you. 

“I told you I have no control over you. It would be insane of me to want that. Look, I really just want you to be happy. And… I don’t really hate the guy. Just freaks me out a little. That’s it. Seriously.” Though he didn’t sound like he actually believed the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Thank you,” you start, shifting on your feet as you whisper, “I mean it. I know it’s stupid but… you're my only friend here. I wouldn’t wanna piss you off or anything.” You try to laugh but it catches in your throat. Why do you care so much? This time it was your voice screaming at you. “If it makes you feel any better it’s not gonna be anything serious. I'm only here for the summer,” you reminded him, much to his dismay. 

“Yeah. I know. Only for the summer. G’night sunshine,” he breathed softly as he led you to your door. 

You watched him make his way into his own home, but you stayed glued to the porch long past his departure. Staring at the cloudy sky that was beginning to pour down, you were able to make out one star that was shining a lot brighter than the others. You were too old to believe that wishing on a star would do anything, but that wasn’t going to stop you. You pushed down the embarrassed version of yourself that was screaming at you to not believe in something that foolish, and you silently mouth a single wish before heading inside and collapsing in bed.

[narizaki]

spring's  in  your  blood  ―  h. shoyo

tags   4+1,   gn!reader,   very light angst i think?,   fluff

notes   the four seasons that pass in shoyo's absence and the one that doesn't,   wc 2.4k,   this has been rotting in my drafts for like 3 weeks

spring 2016

spring represents many things.

come the new season, spring marks the end of winter. it greets you with blooming flowers and budding trees and animals awakening from their slumber. it rewards you for surviving the desolate season just a month before; the one that was full of powdery snow and gray clouds and the seemingly bottomless pit in your gut. 

it signifies the beginning of many things. like the new school year, where you meet dozens of new people and get lost in the hallways and try to keep up with your work. or a new job, where you (once again) have to acclimatize to a new environment in addition to the endless list of demands. 

spring symbolizes hope — the birth of something new and shiny and ready for taking. 

what people forget, though, is that loss waits for no one. it comes when it wants to; all at once or one at a time, until you’re so full of it that you’re not sure what to do anymore. it forces you to curl into a ball at the end of your bed, your breath the only thing keeping you warm.

you lost many things during spring. 

your youth, for one. graduations are meant to be happy ceremonies — celebrating the student for their years of hard work, and wishing them good luck in their future endeavors. 

to you, graduation was only a bitter reminder that you and your friends were going separate ways. that you were growing up.

the loss of your relationships followed your youth. even if the majority of your friends weren’t moving far, if at all, there was a mutual understanding that your relationships would drift. it was only natural — balancing friendships with work and school became tiring after a while. when you had sulked over the change of pace, tsukishima had called you stupid and dramatic. 

but when you both stood next to each other in the chill of the airport, you knew he understood. 

hinata shoyo was someone important to both of you, even if the blonde would rather die than agree. that’s okay — you’d rather have shoyo to yourself.

spring is when you lost shoyo. when he flew across the world to pursue his dreams and to get better so he could continue doing something he loved. you understood; shoyo had been headstrong and put his all into everything he did, even the most mundane. he would go to the ends of the earth if it meant he could keep playing volleyball, and that’s exactly what he did.

it was why you fell in love with him, so you let him go.

summer 2016

you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the summer heat, in the same way you don’t think you’ll ever get used to shoyo being across the world. 

tsukishima might’ve been right when he called you dramatic — it’s only been a few months and you think you’ve already been depleted of shoyo, with his bright orange hair and his endless amount of stamina and the positive energy he radiated no matter the circumstances.

he’s kept steady contact with you since his departure, much to your surprise. you’d thought the boy would get too caught up in his head admiring the new scenery and people — so when the first phone call you get is at 3 in the morning the day after he leaves, you’re equally surprised as you are confused. 

“ah, sorry!” he exclaimed, having heard you yawn into the phone. “i can call you back later. i forgot what time it was over there. i’m sorry!” 

you could only let out a small, tired laugh, telling him it was fine and that any contact was better than none.

neither of you get used to the time difference. shoyo still calls you at ungodly hours in the morning, profusely apologizing when you wake up bleary-eyed with a raspy voice because it’s the middle of the afternoon in brazil. you still call him at the start of each day, when it’s far too late for an athlete to be awake. 

he always picks up.

you don't mention it, nor do you allow yourself to think too deeply about it.

the two of you talk about everything and nothing at once. shoyo tells you of his introverted roommate and his new job as a delivery boy — you think the way he gushes over the bike he uses to commute is cute. you talk about your job, and how he should be glad he decided to not go to college because fuck does it suck. you’ve pulled more all-nighters than you have in your entire life within the few months that have passed. 

“did you ever find your wallet?” you ask. shoyo had texted you a week ago, sulking over how someone plucked his wallet from his back pocket when he got lost. you knew it was special to him — natsu had gotten him it, after all. 

“no, i didn’t,” he sighs, and you frown. “but! i did run into oikawa!” 

“ah, yeah,” you giggle, “saw the photo you sent. did you send it to kageyama?” 

“sure did! had to show off to him,” he bragged, “oikawa and i went to one of my favorite restaurants. think he helped me out of my slump from losing my wallet. hey, if you ever come to brazil, i’ll be sure to bring you there!” 

“i’ll be waiting. and, slump?” you question. you knew losing something valuable would suck for anyone, but you weren’t aware it’d pulled the spiker into a depressed state. it wasn't in shoyo’s nature to be depressed, you mused. typically, he was the one pulling people out of their slumps. 

“yeah, i got all homesick and stuff when i found out i lost it,” shoyo replies, much quieter. “it was like i lost a piece of home, y’know. i miss you guys.” his voice trails off at the end, an almost melancholy hint to it. 

you’re unsure what to say — in your few years of knowing him, you can count the number of times you've seen shoyo genuinely upset on one hand. you hope your hum of understanding comforts him. 

“well, if it makes you feel any better, everyone back here misses you too.” 

you resist the urge to say that you miss him.

“i’d hope so,” is his reply.

fall 2017

fall welcomes you kindly. you become better-accustomed with managing your time, and school no longer has as harsh of a hold on you as it did during the blazing months of summer in your first year of college. a soothing chill has settled along the city — not cold enough to make your nose twitch and turn red, but you’ve started wearing an extra layer and covering your neck with the scarf you bought with shoyo when you were second years. 

you and shoyo still talk rather often — although the phone calls have noticeably slowed, as he’s found himself a solid partner for beach volleyball. heitor, if you recall correctly. you suppose it’s your fault as much as it is his, even if you know you could never truly blame him. while you have gotten better at balancing schoolwork, it’s only diminished the small amount of free time you already had. 

you’re not mad. you don’t think you could even feel upset at shoyo for something you should’ve seen coming from the start. what were you expecting? you should’ve known that you would drift away from him, because you knew that was what happened to almost everyone after they graduate highschool. you knew this — it was the first thought you had when you had received the slip of paper that signified the end of your youth. 

you suppose you’d grown too used to shoyo’s presence to notice the change earlier.

you try to talk to shoyo as much as he talks to you, but he’d always been better at it. it was in his nature to be social more than it had been yours, if his endless number of friends were to tell you anything. you’re sure he’s made good relations in brazil, even as a foreigner.

sometimes, you’ll see his occasional posts online of his endeavors — photos of the beach when the sun has barely risen, the ocean sparkling in the light, or they’ll be of the food he’s made, usually a homely japanese dish. you’ve even seen a picture or two of him watching one piece on a dinky t.v., and you distantly remember shoyo telling you about how he was able to bond with his roommate over the show.

you hope he’s doing well — conquering his dreams, that is.

winter 2017

winter does, as expected, not treat you nicely. 

the chill it brings engulfs your entire figure, forcing you to wear layer upon layer and keep a few extra heat packets in the pockets of your backpack. even if fall gave you time to prepare, it will never be enough with the way winter comes at you with full force.

you suppose that’s why so many holidays occur during winter — christmas, new years, valentines day…the list goes on. people need a reason to distract themselves from the biting cold that forces a hole open in their hearts, only to close when the weather warms once again.

winter only widens the ever-present one in yours.

you can feel the pit in your stomach open more and more as the days pass. despite school not being in session, your time is filled to the brim with work and other priorities, leaving little to no space for your loved ones. you managed to find time to see your friends from high school — everyone but shoyo. even while karasuno’s old volleyball team is bundled together, complete with coach ukai and takeda, there’s still a space where you know he should be. 

and if you look upset staring at an empty space in the wall, no one mentions it.

the holidays pass by with little notice. you join your family in celebrations, greet your high school and college friends alike when they arrive. 

you send shoyo the same greetings — albeit with the timing likely off due to the time difference. regardless, he greets you back with the same fervor he’s had since the moment you met him. you like his message, planning on continuing on with your day by staying in bed watching the same three cheesy holiday movies they play every winter. you have work tomorrow, so you hope to savor the small amount of free time you have left, even if it’s spent rotting in bed. 

your phone buzzes from next to you, and you’re half-expecting it to be a spam call. when you read the id, you’re surprised to see shoyo’s name — there’d been long enough gaps between calls that you had lost the habit of expecting them, and you recall the most recent one being maybe a month ago. 

(the calls have slowed even more. you try to not think about it — try not to let yourself be hurt by it.)

you press accept and bring the device to your ear. 

“happy holidays!” shoyo exclaims over the static. even if it’s been over a year since you've last seen him, his energy is still contagious as ever. the corners of your lips quirk up in a nostalgic smile. 

“happy holidays, shoyo,” you reply, much calmer than your companion. 

conversation comes easily from there — the once empty air around you is filled with the stories shoyo has and your amused giggles. you tell him about his old teammates, and he whines over his and kageyama’s childish scores. for reasons that don't surprise you, they’ve managed to keep track of scores regarding anything they could consider a competition despite shoyo being in another country.

there’s a moment of silence that beats on for a second too long — you’re about to say your goodbyes and hang up, but shoyo takes it as a chance to tell you why he called you.

“i’m coming back this spring,” he says, voice softer than what you’d grown accustomed to. your grip tightens against the pillow you're hugging against your frame, eyes widening. 

“really?” you gasp, shocked. 

“really.” he repeats, and you know he’s smiling, even if you can't see him. 

spring 2018

over the past two years shoyo has spent in brazil, patience is truly a virtue he has learned. mastered, dare he say. 

everything took time. cleaning his room. his roommate warming up to him. learning how to play beach volleyball. speaking a new language. maintaining a routine. learning how to fly again. 

sometimes, though, he wonders what his life would’ve been like had he stayed in japan. would he still be as strong as he is now, without having to leave his life behind? shoyo knew that his departure was sudden — nobody expects a high schooler to up and leave the country the second they graduate, after all. even kageyama stayed in japan, going to the olympics shortly after they had completed high school.

shoyo knows what he left back in japan when he stood in the airport two years ago. that day, he left everything he knew — his mom, his sister, his friends, volleyball as he knew it, and  you.

he’s waited for you for the past two years. 

brazil taught him how to be a better volleyball player — showed him the importance of routine and training your body. it taught him to not rush into things, and that everything would come to him in due time. 

so, in the same chill of the airport he left you in, shoyo meets you again. you’re staring at him, and it feels as if you are the only people in the building. he knows that his friends are waiting just by the two of you, but all he can focus on is you and the way your lips are slightly parted in awe and how much you’ve grown while he was gone and how much he wants to kiss you.

shoyo takes careful steps towards you, the same boyish grin you’d grown to love adorning his face. you’re frozen in place, but he figures that it’s okay because he’ll come to you. it’s the least he could do after leaving you in his wake just a few years back. 

when he’s finally face-to-face with you, you’re still star-struck.

“you’re back,” you breathe. 

“i’m back,” shoyo replies. he presses forward, cups your face in his hands, and kisses you, just how he wanted to all those years ago.

he can taste the salty flavor of your tears, and he nearly pulls back in concern, but you stop him. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. there’s an equal mix of cheers as there are sounds of disgust, but neither of you pay any mind.

the only thing that either of you are focused on is the fact that shoyo’s here, and he’s here to stay. 

[nouies]

hello and welcome to the august fic rec featuring my favourite works i read during the past weeks. as always, please check tags before reading. if you liked the fics please reblog their posts, leave kudos and write a nice comment. happy reading!  rec tag | more rec lists

— harry/louis —  

໑ Gotta Feeling by @allwaswell16 (T, 2k, strangers, mexico, tour guide louis, awakened flirting, accidental blind date) When Harry's life in Manchester isn't turning out the way he thought it would, he decides to visit his best friend in Mexico City. Maybe Niall can convince him to move halfway around the world.

໑ HOT TO GO! by @allwaswell16 (T, 2.3k, strangers, canon divergence, famous/not famous, concerts, oblivious harry, flirting) When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right.

Or the accidental pervert fic

໑ Consumed by All These Yesterdays by summerwine/ @smrwine (E, 10.1k, friends, exes, then and now, angst) “I love you too, by the way,” Louis said in his arms. “And I will love you next summer, and the summer after that, and for every summer we have together for the rest of our lives.”

“And I will love you more.”

Louis would leave Harry’s summer home two days later, and it would become the fifth consecutive year that they would drift apart through fall and winter, but Harry wasn’t afraid. They always had the summer time and without a doubt it would inevitably bring them back together.

໑ you are the sin of the earth that my body needs by puppyvirginloui (spanish, NR, 16k, exes to lovers, past relationships, secret relationship, fluff) Donde la novia del hijo de Louis es hija de su ex; Harry.

໑ I Ain’t Gonna Fence You In by dilfrry (M, 40.6k, strangers to lovers, ranch au, cowboy harry, summer, fluff, read tags and author’s note for triggering warnings) Louis Tomlinson is a 18 year old city boy who is forced to spend his summer before his senior year at his aunts farm. There, he meets Harry, a 19 year old country boy his aunt hired to help around the farm.

Maybe the farm isn't the worst place to fall in love?

— rare pairs —

໑ Did You Know I Fit In A Dryer? by @lululawrence (louis/jordan north, NR, 4k, strangers, canon divergence, crack, implied/reference drug use) “Oi, mate!”

There was some knocking and after the voice coming from right behind him when he had clearly just seen an empty room, Jordan didn’t think he could be faulted for jumping and screaming a bit.

“Mate, can you help me open the door?”

[wafflureal]

Pure Vanilla Cookie's Wet Tingles Info !!!

I decided I would make a post here explaining wet tingles to everyone who might be confused

(PLEASE REBLOG TO REACH MORE PEOPLE !! :3 /nf)

Wet Tingles Origin

It all started when i had a dream on November 1st, 2023, where I got a new costume for Pure Vanilla Cookie called "Wet Tingles." I woke up, and it was on my mind all day, so i decided to make an edited sprite of what it looked like

I posted it to Reddit, where it got pretty popular pretty quickly, but it ended about a week later. Then, fast forward to April 2024, suddenly it's everywhere on Twitter. People were making fanart of him, they were making fan costumes of their favorite cookies, and it even made it to the cookie run kingdom discord server.

September 18th 2024 Update:

A few nights ago i had ANOTHER DREAM OF HIM !! There was this one person on Etsy selling homemade CRK plushies and while i was going through their listings, I saw one with the name "Wet Tingles". This wasn't the same original Wet Tingles we all know and love, this one had a complete redesign with actual clothes this time, he had a cream colored long sleeve shirt with a collar with the top button unbuttoned with a brown diamond pattern pullover and the MyCookie pants but it was the same color as his notorious green towel. He had a mohawk and a few face markings, and a confident lookings pose. Funny enough, the cover art for this listing looked like it was drawn by one of my friends, @cortlandkaard, so I had asked it to draw him and we dubbed him "Awakened Wet Tingles". Basically Pure Vanilla Cookie when you awaken him with soulprisms but if you had the wet tingles costume equipped, the costume would change too. Here's the amazing art made by it ! :D

Wet Tingles Story

The story behind wet tingles is rather long. It takes place during Cookie Odyssey Chapter II. Clotted Cream Cookie invited Pure Vanilla Cookie, GingerBrave, Black Raisin Cookie, and Burnt Cheese Cookie to the Creme Republic to discuss the expedition to Beast Yeast. He sent a hot air balloon to the Vanilla Kingdom to transport them. After arriving in the Republic, they go to the council hall and have a meeting with Clotted Cream Cookie in the Council Hall. He tells them to relax for now and enjoy what the Republic has to offer. He grants them a royal credit card that has infinite uses, almost like in Amphibia. The GingerGang (GingerBrave, Black Raisin Cookie, and Burnt Cheese Cookie) are ecstatic and rush through the Republic, using the credit card on everything they can. Pure Vanilla Cookie, however, is having trouble keeping up with them. They notice and tell him to relax at the Creme Republic Spa. He is reluctant, but they force him to relax there. The lobby of the spa only had a reception table with an unknown character as the receptionist. The GingerGang leave him there and continue on their adventures through the republic, exploring the place and buying more things. Some time goes by, and Financier Cookie shows up and informs them that Clotted Cream Cookie summoned them back to the council hall. They rush to the spa and past reception to get Pure Vanilla Cookie. The actual spa area was a rather big locker room size area with a singular hot tub in the center of it. It was almost like a Japanese sentō, so yes, they were naked in the hot tub. There were a bunch of other INCREDIBLY BUFF cookies with white towels around their waists conversing with each other. Inside the hot tub, however, is Pure Vanilla Cookie with two other INCREDIBLY BUFF cookies. He seemed to be rather flustered being in there with them but is still enjoying himself and conversing with them about the glory days of the Pure Vanilla Kingdom. He spots the GingerGang, and they tell him they're needed in the council hall. He gets out of the tub (GingerGang looks away) and ties that notorious green towel around his waist. They leave the spa quickly, and Pure Vanilla Cookie keeps the towel on the for the rest of the day, even during the meeting with Clotted Cream Cookie.

(NOTE: Pure Vanilla Cookie is the only one with a green towel, and only INCREDIBLY BUFF cookies can have white ones)

Future of Wet Tingles?

I have already drawn Pure Vanilla Cookie's Wet Tingles, but I plan to draw all of the ancients with a Wet Tingles costume (Golden Cheese will have her girlies out)

My original plan with Wet Tingles since the beginning was to have it a real costume for Pure Vanilla Cookie in the game, and i believe together we can pressure the devs hard enough to add it

I never expected a simple dream I had to turn out to be this big within the community, and low-key do so much for gender equality in the community (Twitter oomf's words not mine). I am eternally grateful for everyone who partook in the trend back in April and for those who are still fans of the costume

Fanart?

YES!!!!! PLEASE PLEASE !!!!!! When posting your absolutely fucking awesome wet tingles fanart, please use "#wet tingles" and tag me. There are no limitations to what you may or may not draw, draw OG Wet Tingles, draw your OC in wet tingles, draw your favorite cookie in wet tingles, have the characters do anything you want !!

Here are some fanarts I've gathered through the year :3

- @cortlandkaard

- @original-oz-soda and @mein-schatz

- @rxhouse and @thelosers-club

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Best Intentions - Chapter Three

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock/PTSD. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: She deals with an unexpected visit and Lois forces her to take action. Final part. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is inconsolable when she gets home, having walked the short distance from the wall back to her house, vision blurred with tears.

Her mum rises from the kitchen table, rushing to her and pulling her into a tight hug the moment she sees the state she’s in.

“Oh, love,” she coos, stroking her hair, “he’s a fool to have upset you like that.”

“He’s not a fool, Mum,” she sobs, snotty nosed and shaking, into the wool of her cardigan, “I couldn’t say yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”

She loves Tom. She’s in love with Tom.

Deep down, she knows she’s probably felt that way all along, yet the admission shocks her all the same.

She feels numb for the rest of the evening, though grateful for the soothing reassurance of her mum. If nothing else, her endless cups of tea give her something warm to wrap her hands around, something to focus on besides how hurt Tom had looked when she’d said no to him.

It was the right thing to do, she knows this, they aren’t ready for such an enormous commitment, but she can’t help but wonder if making the right choice was meant to make it feel like her heart was being torn in two.

Puffy eyed and miserable when she awakens the next day, her mum offers to give her the day off from the shop. Wearily, she shakes her head, eager to carry on as normal.

“If I stop at home, I’ll drive myself mad thinking about it all. I just wanna get on.”

Her mum gives her hand a reassuring squeeze and a “whatever you think is best, love”.

Theoretically, the shop should take her mind off things, yet there are reminders of Tom in everything. As she’s restocking the sweet jars, her heart lurches in her chest when she gets to the sherbet straws, thinking about how their fingers would brush against each other when they;d share a bag. They were Tom’s favourites. 

When a man comes in to buy a cigarette, she rolls it around in her fingers after taking it from the shelf. It’s Tom’s brand. She’d always hated the way the smell of the smoke would stick to his hair and clothes. Now, the thought that she may never breathe in the stale scent of tobacco on his jacket when he pulls her in for a hug makes her eyes well up with tears, and she has to sniffle them away before turning back to the till to take payment.

Then there is the more obvious reminder living upstairs; Lois. As if summoned by the thought of her, she appears from the back, Vera nestled against her hip.

“You and Tom left in a hurry on Saturday, thought you’d both stick around after for a drink,” she says, bouncing the toddler gently in her arms.

“Oh,” she says, feeling anxiety gnaw at her insides, as her skin heats up with a mixture of shame and embarrassment, not wanting to reveal to Lois what’s happened between her and Tom. It still feels too raw to talk about. “Yeah, sorry, wasn’t feeling well. You and Connie sounded great though!”

She offers a smile that she hopes looks sincere and Lois looks at her with sympathy in her big, blue eyes.

“You mentioned the other day you were feeling a bit tired, everything okay?”

She swallows, nodding her head, just wanting the conversation to be over.

Her and Tom have the same eyes.

It’s excruciating to look at her. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine now. Run ragged by the shop, you know how it is.”

Lois readjusts Vera against her hip, running a hand over her soft curls, before looking back up. “Well, if you find time to get away tomorrow, I’ve asked Tom to pop round on his dinner break. Been ages since I’ve caught up with him, would be nice to see you too, even if you can only manage time for a cuppa.”

She feels her throat run dry at this. If Lois has invited Tom round then that means he’ll have to come to the shop. She’ll have to see him. She isn’t ready.

She can feel a void opening in the pit of her stomach, dread prickling her skin. “Maybe..” she offers quietly, and is grateful that at that moment Vera starts to fuss, drawing Lois’ attention away from her.

“Better get this one back upstairs anyway,” Lois says, distractedly, “maybe see you tomorrow!”

She breathes a sigh of relief when she disappears into the back and up the stairs again, resting her elbows on the counter and putting her head in her hands.

Tom is going to be at the shop tomorrow. What on earth will I say to him?

Nerves flutter in her belly all morning the next day, her heart racing so fast she is sure that every customer she serves must be able to hear it. More than once her hands fumble when giving someone their change, sending coins spilling across the counter.

If it wouldn’t earn her a stern telling off from her mum, she’d close up for the day and go home, so that she wouldn’t have to see Tom when he inevitably arrives.

She has a hundred different things she wants to say to him; I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so bloody angry with you. I love you.

None of them seem appropriate.

It’s precisely noon when the bell above the shop door tinkles and she looks up from the stamps she’s sorting, met with the intense stare of Tom.

He’s on time. He’s never on time for anything. She feels her hands tremble, her breathing unsteady as she tries to organise her thoughts into something coherent. She curses herself, she’s wasted all morning deciding what to say and still has nothing.

Her hesitation is more than enough for Tom apparently, as he huffs, mouth twisting into a sneer, before striding into the back and up the stairs to the flat.

Bowing her head she feels her throat tighten, lips pulling downwards with the effort not to burst into tears. In all the years she’d known Tom, seeing him had never made her feel so rotten. She swipes angrily at her nose, inhaling a deep shaky breath before busying herself with organising what’s left of the day’s papers.

An hour later, Tom reappears in the doorway that leads towards the back, as she’s standing counting up the till drawer. Up close she can see the haunted look in his eyes, the dark bags underneath them. The night terrors are clearly as bad as ever, he doesn’t look like he’s sleeping properly. She wants nothing more than to go to him, pull him into a hug and comfort him, but can’t stand the thought of him pushing her away if she tries.

Once more she realises she’s staring at him without saying anything, he’s clearly waiting for her to make the first move, and she hasn’t. 

His eyes narrow in anger, and he breezes past her, muttering an irritated “piss off” as he goes.

The casualness of his insolence towards her turns her sorrow into anger, which she feels boil up inside her, erupting as she shouts “no, you piss off!” after him.

How dare he?! After everything, that’s all he has to say to me.

But it’s too late. The door to the shop is already closed. Tom’s gone.

Her sob catches in her throat, and before she’s able to stop it, a piteous wail leaves her, which she attempts to muffle with the palm of her hand. Hot tears roll down her cheeks, the painful twisting in her chest from Sunday returning in earnest.

“Hey, hey,” comes a gentle voice from behind her. The slender arms of Lois wrap around her, pulling her into a warm hug. “What’s all this?”

There’s no use lying to her now, not when Lois has seen her like this.

“It’s Tom,” she says, pulling away slowly, voice thick from crying, “we’ve been seeing each other.”

Lois chuckles quietly. “Well, I knew that, it’s not exactly a secret. What’s he done?”

She closes her eyes briefly, feeling shame wash over her. Would Lois be angry if she told her she’d said no to Tom’s proposal?

“He proposed to me, I said no,” she blurts, “but it’s not because I don’t love him! I still want to be with him, we’ve just never made it official, and I don’t want to rush.”

Lois goes quiet for a moment, her eyes widening in obvious shock at what she’d revealed. “Wow…Tom proposed?” Her eyebrows raise, and they stand in silence as she takes in the revelation, thinking about what to say next.

Chewing her lip, Lois nods and their eyes meet before she speaks again. “So, what did Tom say exactly?”

“Not much, he finished with me,” she says miserably.

“You told him you love him and he finished with you?!” She asks, her mouth agape.

“Well…no…I’ve never actually told him I love him…” she admits, averting her gaze, feeling her face grow hot.

“Well then maybe you should start with that?” Lois suggests.

“I can’t, Lois!” She cries, “He’s not been the same since he came home, you know he hasn’t. He needs to get help.”

“Yeah, he does,” Lois agrees, “but that’s not your job to do. It’s yours to be there for him, to let him know it’s not him you’re saying no to. He needs you, anyone can see that.”

She knows Lois is right. Tom has likely seen her rejection as a rejection of her wanting to be with him, thinking he’s too broken, when that is the furthest thing from the truth. The state he was in when he came to the shop earlier is proof of the fact that he just needs her to be there for him, but she has been too caught up in her own feelings to realise his. 

“Yeah, you’re right”, she says, wiping her eyes, “I need to speak to him. I’ll go to the garage tomorrow.”

“Or you could go tonight?” Lois suggests, “He doesn’t finish for another half hour after the shop closes, so you can catch him before he goes home.”

“Oh, Lois, I look a mess, he can’t see me like this–” she tries to protest, but is cut off.

“Yes, he can! Let him see you’re as upset by this as he is. He needs to know you care.”

She purses her lips. Lois is right. No use in putting it off. The longer she leaves it, the harder it’ll be.

Checking her face in her compact as she stands outside of the garage, she’s grateful that her tears haven’t done too much damage to her mascara. Only the faintest rim of red around her eyes suggests that she’d ever been upset.

The shutter is halfway down, suggesting that Tom is close to finishing up for the day. His feet are the only pair she sees beneath. Drawing in a steading breath, she ducks through the gap, righting herself as Tom regards her with a furrowed brow and widened eyes; an apparent mixture of surprise and anger.

“What are you doing here?” He asks sullenly.

She holds up her hands in mock surrender, attempting to keep her tone even, despite the way her voice wobbles. “Please, Tom, I’m not here to argue. I just wanna talk to you.”

“Got nothin’ to say,” he sniffs, wiping his hands on a rag and closing the bonnet of the sleek black motorcar he’s been working on.

“But I have,” she pleads, “so please just hear me out.”

She spots his jaw tick in annoyance, but he nods all the same, remaining silent, so she presses on.

“I need you to know that when I said no I wasn’t saying no to you, to us, just the proposal. I don’t think we’re ready.”

Tom rolls his eyes, throwing the rag down, sniffing before he replies. “Yeah, I get it, you wouldn’t wanna be stuck with someone that’s not right in the head.”

“Don’t say that,” she says sadly, a dull ache forming in her chest. “You’ve been through so much, Tommy, but you’ll get through it and I’ll be with you every step of the way, because I love you.”

“You what?” He asks quickly, head snapping up to look at her.

Her breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest.

Oh god. What if he doesn’t say it back? What if he tells her to go away and never speak to him again?

“I–I love you,” she stammers, feeling as though her vulnerability will swallow her whole.

“Say it again,” Tom says lowly, stepping towards her.

He’s so close she can smell the motor oil that clings to his skin. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“I love you,” she repeats with more confidence, gazing up at him.

In one swift movement, he grabs the back of her neck, pulling her to him and crushing his lips against hers. 

It’s not the four little words she’d expected in return, but the action expresses everything he needs to say.

I love you too.

She melts into it, kissing him back with equal fervour. His kiss is hungry, filled with desperation, yet it feels like coming home after a long journey. He tastes of tobacco and spearmint. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed the pillowy softness of his mouth until it’s moving against her own. Absent-mindedly, her arms wrap around his shoulders, as Tom’s free hand grips her waist.

When they break for air, he presses his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.

“God, I missed you,” he whispers.

She barely has time to tell him she’s missed him too before he’s kissing her again, pulling the shutter all the way closed and maneuvering her backwards towards the car he’s been working on, yanking open the back door.

Bracing her palms against his chest, she pulls back slightly, apprehension at odds with the desire she feels. “We can’t do that here, that’s a customer’s car! What if we get caught?”

Tom shrugs. “Shutter’s down, and I’ve not fucked you for ages. Come on, no one will catch us.”

She giggles, taking in the sight of his lust-widened pupils and kiss-swollen lips. It sends a needy throb straight to her core, and she grabs him by the front of his overalls, pulling him back to her once more.

His tongue sweeps against hers, as he lays her down in the cramped confines of the back seat before climbing on top of her. His tall frame means he has to keep one knee pressed between her leg and the back of the seat, and the other on the floor.

“You sure there’s room?” She purrs playfully, brushing her lips against his neck.

“I’ll fucking make room,” he hisses, awkwardly shrugging out of his overalls, causing her to laugh.

“Something funny?” He mutters darkly, pushing his hand beneath her skirt, his fingers toying with the gusset of her knickers, before slipping inside the material.

She gasps as his digits press through the wetness of her folds, bucking against his hand. It’s been so long since she felt his touch like this that his hands upon her skin feel like a brand. “Tommy…” is all she’s able to whimper.

He smirks. “That’s what I thought,” he says cockily, his words punctuated by the wet sounds of his fingertips moving through the slick of her arousal. “This all for me?”

“Y–yeah,” she breathes out, and he withdraws his hand, making her whine.

“Don’t wanna let it go to waste,” he tells her, pushing his overalls further down, along with his briefs.

She bites her lower lip, watching him stroke the length of his erection, ruddy and shiny with arousal at its tip.

His eyebrows raise, lips parting as a look of realisation flashes across his features. “I haven’t got a sheath..”

“Oh, Tommy!” She cries out in frustration.

He frowns, his tone becoming defensive. “Well, sorry, why would I keep any here? Not like I make a habit of shagging in the garage, is it?”

She feels light headed with the intensity of her need for him. She isn’t sure she can wait for them to get back to his flat. Desire is the only thing fuelling her in this moment, alongside the words that leave her mouth. “Just pull out then.”

Tom’s eyes widen, a grin spreading across his face. “If you say so.”

He leans over her, pulling her underwear to one side, and guiding himself to her entrance. They groan in unison as he pushes forward, stretching her open on his length.

The feeling of being so intimate with him again after being apart is divine all by itself, however, being able to feel him fully without a barrier to separate them has her inner walls fluttering around him as he breaches her to the hilt.

“Jesus christ,” is all he’s able to grit out as he stills, allowing them both to adjust to the sensation.

“Please…please move,” she mewls desperately.

Tom pulls his hips back, before driving forward, the repeated motion causing the car to squeak and rock, yet it barely registers to her. Her only focus is the feeling of him inside of her, the way that every thrust brushes against a spot inside of her that makes her abdomen tighten like a coil.

“I don’t think I’m gonna last,” Tom pants above her, fogging the windows up, “you feel too bloody good.”

“Not yet,” she whispers breathlessly, the coil in her belly almost at its breaking point, “‘m so close…”

Tom groans, snaking a hand between them, fingers reaching beneath her knicker elastic to toy with her pearl in tandem with each deep thrust.

Warmth spreads through her, as she writhes beneath him, the pressure within her building until it finally gives way and she tightens around him with a wanton moan.

“Shitshitfuck–” Tom groans, withdrawing from her and spilling white hot ropes of spend across her thighs with quick, sure strokes.

He hovers over her for a few moments longer, simply looking into her eyes and stroking her hair. She’s certain that at this point right now she’s never felt more in love with him. It feels good to have him back. Her Tommy.

He helps her out of the car, careful not to stain the upholstery and gets her cleaned up. 

Finally, he breaks the silence, turning to her as they straighten up their clothes. “So what should I do with it? The ring, I mean. I can get a diamond put in, I–”

“It’s perfect, as it is,” she reassures him, cupping his face in her hands, “keep it for now. Ask me again when we’re ready.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” he responds, bumping her nose with his.

Over the next six months their relationship blossoms, with her spending more and more time at Tom’s flat. No longer “just mates”, they proudly hold hands as they walk down the street together. Shared lunch breaks are spent on their wall, passing a bag of sherbet straws back and forth.

Tom’s night terrors lessen. Over time he comes to accept that it would be good to talk to someone. It’s still a touchy subject for him, and he refuses to use the term shell shock because of its association with Douglas. Not wanting to explore anything as extreme as electric shock therapy, he opts to see a doctor who has adopted psychotherapy as a means of treatment.

With each session, he looks a little lighter, though still haunted by the memories of what he has endured in combat, the load becomes more bearable to manage, and her heart feels as though it could burst with pride for him.

It’s New Year’s Eve, as they stand on the rain-dampened pavement outside of the Ducie Arms. Tom sways unsteadily on his feet, six pints deep, as they look up at the sky, the colourful crackle of fireworks overhead heralding in a brand new year. 

He pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, and she happily reciprocates, despite the lingering taste of lager upon his lips. His eyes are glassy as he pulls the ring box from his jacket pocket, his words slurred.

“Will you–”

She shakes her head, placing her hand over his, pushing it gently back towards his pocket.

“Ask me when you’re sober.”

It feels terrible to reject him a second time, yet she knows to get engaged when they’re both not in full control of their actions would be a mistake.

Thankfully, in his drunken state he doesn’t seem to mind, simply nodding and pocketing the ring box once more.

When he wakes up the next morning, bleary eyed and complaining he has a headache, he has no memory of most of the previous evening, and she cannot help the pang of disappointment she feels.

Another six months pass, and Tom continues to improve. His night terrors happen irregularly and he has started to fill out again, not quite as bony as he was when he first returned to Longsight. He looks healthy, happy. It fills her with warmth to see him recovering.

Yet there is a constant nagging in the back of her mind. She has knocked Tom back twice now, what if he never asks again?

Vera is now walking and talking, and, needing more space, Lois moves out of the flat above the shop, having found a little terraced house with a garden for her to play in.

Her and Tom decide to take the step of occupying the space. Tom gives up his flat, and the two move in together. They spend most of their time together anyway, so it makes sense.

It’s their moving in day, and she silently curses Tom for being too tight fisted to pay a removal man to do this for them, as they carry his old sofa up the stairs.

She feels clammy with sweat by the time they place it heavily down in their empty living room. Huffing with relief, she sits down, wanting to take a breather before they carry anything else up. She wipes her brow, looking around the space with a slight smile on her face.

A fresh start for both of them. A place to call theirs. A space to create memories.

She is snapped out of her reverie by Tom calling her name.

“I’m not moving anything else until I’ve–”

She freezes, mouth agape as she turns her head and sees Tom on one knee before her, ring box open in his hand.

“Thought now felt like the right time,” he says, “so will you?”

“I’m all sweaty,” she says bashfully.

“You’ve never looked better. My wife, working hard to put all of our old shit in our flat. So how about it?” He asks, cocking his head.

Her heart flutters. He’s right, there will never be a more perfect moment than this.

“Yes,” she breathes, allowing him to slip the simple gold band onto her ring finger.

He leans in pressing his lips to hers and she smiles into it, running her fingers through his hair as he pulls away again, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Still mates though, yeah?” He whispers.

She giggles. “Always.”