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ladamedusoif · 4 months

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Tempered in the Fire - Part Four

See the Series Masterlist for complete content warnings, historical event information, and series notes.

Cross-posted to AO3. Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications for updates.

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI (chapter; series)

Content (chapter specific): Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; angst; smut; violence; unprotected PiV sex; oral sex (F and M receiving); racist (anti-Traveller) language; period-typical misogyny; references to domestic physical, emotional, and sexual abuse; references to family loss and death; abusive and derogatory language; strong language.

Translations for the Irish language provided throughout as needed, though I have not translated mo chuisle as a term of endearment (it literally means 'my pulse', more usually used as 'my love').

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the gap between chapters here and am grateful to the readers who've been so patient! Thanks, too, as ever, to @paulmescal-s for working through the gnarlier bits of this story with me and being such a great sort-of beta.

In the future, after many years had passed, you would find it hard to remember exactly how much time you had together, at the forge, before the hard reality came knocking at your door. Those days and nights of domestic happiness could never have been enough.

By day, you keep house, sew, and bake. Each morning, you do some basic reading and writing with Gró, or take the little boy around the hedgerows and trees at the boundary of the property, teaching him the names of plants and animals. Din had explained your presence to him, and he beamed every morning when his father carried him down the attic ladder and he saw you again.

Din, so used to being the lone adult in the household, insists on contributing to the routine: cooking, cleaning, setting the fire. It feels so natural, so right - and yet a blade dangles over this strange little found family, ready to drop at any moment.

Each evening, Din readies Gró for bed, sometimes bathing his son in a tin bath in front of the fire while you tell him a story by way of distraction. It has quickly become a highlight of the blacksmith’s day, these moments where he watches as you make his beloved boy squeal with laughter, or hold his rapt attention with the twists and turns of a tale.

They were content and settled, this clan of two. But Din couldn’t help the daydreams about a clan of three that sometimes flashed through his mind.

He took every opportunity he could to touch you throughout the day. A squeeze of your hand at the breakfast table as Gró drained his cup of milk. A discreet kiss to your cheek as he made his way into the forge for his morning’s work. A gentle caress of your waist as he passes you while you’re laying the table for the main meal, taken in the middle of the day.

With Gró settled and asleep in the loft, the two of you moved more hastily in the evenings, now, to sort the things for breakfast and smother the fire. The sooner the chores were done, after all, the sooner you could shed your clothes and climb into his bed together.

The nervous caution of your first time together soon dissipated as you grew more familiar with each other, more in tune with each other’s needs and desires. For all his inexperience and your difficult past, the two of you are perfectly-matched lovers. The feeling of Din’s broad body on yours, glistening with sweat, begins to exorcise the demons of the past. You ride him on top, one hand intertwined with his as he squeezes your breasts and watches you come. He slips his cock inside you one morning as you’re lying together, your back pressed to his chest, and fucks you slowly and carefully until you’re both coming quietly, mouths pushed into the pillows. One evening, he was even too impatient for bed, hitching up your skirts and taking you over the heavy wooden table, hand pressed against your mouth as you whined against his palm.

“I want to learn you,” Din whispered one night, easing your long shift off so that you were completely bare, lying alongside his own naked body.

You traced your fingertips along the softness of his lips. “Learn me?”

His strong, clever fingers roamed over you as he nodded. “Learn you. Know you, all of you.” He squeezed your tits softly, sucking gently on each nipple. “Commit you to memory. How you feel, how you fit together. Do you like this?”

You wound your fingers through his messy curls and nodded. He followed the curves of your body with his broad, calloused hands, moving over your waist and holding your hips firmly as he reverently kissed your belly. He took his time, hands memorising the exact shape and volume of your form.

“You are a beauty, mo chuisle,” he murmured, dark eyes looking up at you from between your legs. “So lovely and soft and warm.”

His fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he mapped you out, and you felt the wetness between your legs as your hips bucked upwards, legs parting instinctively.

“Can I…see, mo chuisle?” Din’s palm grazed over the hair covering your mound. “See you…see you here?”

“Of course, my darling.” You opened your legs wider for him, watching as his eyes grew round in awe, before darkening with lust. He reached for his cock, whimpering a little as he stroked himself.

“That’s beautiful.” He had shifted his head closer to your centre, his expression a little bashful. “I’d like to kiss you here. Would that be alright?”

“Please, darling,” you hissed. “Put your mouth on me.”

“I’ve never…” He exhaled nervously as he settled between your legs, fingers already playing with your wet folds. “Never even thought of this, but…”

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled, understanding what he was trying to say. “You’ll know just what to do, love.”

This was new to you, too, though you had heard of men doing it to their girls, especially if they were not meant to lie together. Your friend Mary had, just prior to her marriage, confided in you that she and her betrothed had found a way to sate their passions without the risk of her falling pregnant before the wedding.

“The mouth is a great thing, all the same,” she’d said, dangling her bare feet in the cool water of the local river on a warm summer day as the two of you lazed on the grassy bank, skirts hitched to your knees. She had explained the mechanisms of it to you, chuckling at your sceptical expression.

“Just wait, girleen. Just you wait and see.”

Now Din’s soft, plush lips were pressed against your slit, tongue tasting your wetness, and you finally understood what she meant. It was heaven: the way his lips brushed against the little bundle of nerves and made your whole body convulse with pleasure, the sensation of his patchy beard against your thighs, how he began to slip his tongue in and out of you. His grunts and moans vibrated against your core and you came hard against him, giggling when you saw the slick glistening all over his smiling face.

In the nights to come, you returned the favour, languidly sucking and licking at his perfect cock while he held your head in place with his broad hands, hips bucking up against you as he groaned with sheer pleasure.

You paused, reminding him that he needed to be quieter, before slipping his cock between your lips again. “‘S not my fault, mo chuisle,” he panted, eyes locked on how his hard length disappeared into your pretty mouth. “Feels far too good.”

As he came in your mouth for the first time, you’d looked up at his beautiful face, release and pleasure and affection written on every part of it, and begged whatever deity might listen to let you stay here forever.

Din is more comfortable showing his feelings through actions, physical gestures, than words. Little by little, though, you notice him opening up more, saying more. Not that he’d ever be what you could consider a talker.

One night, nestled together, you ask him to tell you about himself.

"I want to hear your story, Din.” The comforting caress of your hand against his face makes him smile softly.

"I don’t know what there is to tell.”

You cuddle closer to him, enjoying the feel of his solid frame against you. “Well, I don’t know much about your family, for one…”

He shifts a little in bed and for an instant you worry you have overstepped the mark.

“It’s not a very happy story, mo chuisle, but if you want to know…”

A kiss to the expanse of broad, tanned chest exposed at the neck of his nightshirt. “I want to know. If you want to tell me.”

He finds your hand and presses it to his chest, seeking reassurance in your familiar touch, and taking a deep breath before he begins to whisper his story to you.

"I’m a travelling person. I don’t know where I was born - other than that it was probably somewhere towards the west of the country, on a campsite. I have - had - an older sister, a younger brother. Lived off the money from whatever work my father could get - fixing pots and pans, mostly, sometimes farm labour, depending on the season.”

"A hard living.”

He nods, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “Hard, but loving.” He inhales deeply, again, before continuing.

"We were never really wanted anywhere. Moved on, camps disturbed, even attacked, sometimes. We learned quickly how to hide at the first sign of trouble.”

He closes his eyes, a flash of sorrow crossing his beautiful features in the moonlight coming through the little cottage window. “I suppose that’s what saved me.”

For a few moments, Din is quiet.

“We had camped on land that was part of some big estate, belonging to Lord somebody or other. The usual situation. My father and a couple of our other men went fishing the first day and poaching the first night, to get us some food. I can still see the scales of the big salmon he caught, glinting in the firelight as my mother cleaned it.”

"A feast.”

He nods, a little smile on his lips at the memory, before his features darken again. “But not our feast to take. The lord’s feast, by virtue of the land being given to him by some far-off king.” He shakes his head ruefully.

"I was coming back with some cans of water the next morning when I heard shouting. The glimpses of red moving towards the camp - the yeomanry. The landlord set them on us, and they gave us no quarter. When some of our men and women tried to defend our few possessions, they - well, they turned violent.”

You hold him close, feeling the anguish in his breathing.

"I saw my father fall, killed by a blow to the head with the butt of a yeoman’s musket. My mother caught a glimpse of me, roared at me to run, to hide, and to my eternal shame I did just that. I didn’t go to them. I ran.”

"She wanted you to live, Din. She was saving you.”

He swallows hard, audible in the stillness of the night.

“The local priest found me a couple of days later, still carrying the empty can. I’d hidden in a ditch, ate blackberries to survive. He arranged for the local blacksmith and his wife to take me in, train me as an apprentice.”

He pauses again. You realise this is the most he’s probably ever said to you in one go.

“When the time came, I took to the roads myself, honing the craft before I could set up on my own. I wasn’t long back when the priest called, saying a cousin in the east knew of an empty forge in need of a good smith.”

"And that’s how you came here?”

Din nods. “That’s how I came to be here.”

You venture a sensitive question. “Din… what happened to your mother, your siblings?”

"Poorhouse. No other choice.”

Silence.

"I didn’t know where they’d gone. So much sickness in those godforsaken places…”

Another pause.

”My brother died first. Then my sister, and then my mother.”

Your voice is tiny, barely a whisper. “Did you… see them?”

"By the time we found out what poorhouse they were in… it was too late.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you do your best not to let them fall. This is his story, his grief, not yours. Instead, you shift up the bed a little, still holding his warm body close, and lean in to caress and kiss him.

There’s a wet, salty tang on his cheek. You kiss away the silent tear.

For a moment, you think of what Din told you about how he came to adopt Gró: his unwillingness to let the boy go to a poorhouse or orphanage, his desire to protect and train the child, just as he himself had once been taken in by the smith and his wife. Just as he, himself, had once been a lost little boy.

You press your lips to the messy curls at the crown of his head.

There are times when you almost forget that you’re not really meant to be here, so natural and right does it feel. And then you are jolted back, reluctantly, to a reality where you are still technically the wife of a violent, cruel man who could claim you at any moment.

That afternoon, you hear the sound of horses approaching and immediately disappear up to the loft, as usual, until you know it’s safe to descend. You listen attentively as the door opens and breathe a sigh of relief when Gró’s delighted little voice greets Peigí, here on one of her regular visits. You hear Din enter the cottage from the forge, chatting companionably to his old friend, and make for the ladder.

You’re a few rungs down when you hear a second, less familiar voice.

“So where is she, Din?”

He stutters, the panic evident in his voice. You wonder if you can make it back to the loft.

Too late.

Father Carthy hears the sound of your skirts and turns, greeting you by name in grave tones.

“You might as well come and join us, my child.”

Peigí’s gaze is apologetic as you climb down the ladder and move to join the little cluster of adults, Din having sent Gró outside to play. You stand beside him, arms wrapped protectively over your body, resisting the urge to reach for his hand.

“I’m sorry, girleen.” Peigí wrings her hands, expression anxious and sorrowful. “Father came to see me today before I left for the forge, I couldn’t turn him out.”

You meet Father Carthy’s eyes with a look of defiance, straightening yourself to your full height, silently demanding an explanation.

“I am not here to force you home. I know your…situation.” The priest exhales deeply, fingers fiddling with the little black buttons on his long robes. “And between us and the wall and the Lord Almighty, if that kind of cruelty and abandonment was grounds for annulment… well.”

The back of Din’s hand brushes almost imperceptibly against yours.

“But you are still a married woman, and…” The cleric sighs apologetically. “My child, you were seen here. Out in the back field, with the boy. And if I’ve heard it, and people are talking, then it’s only a matter of time before -”

You interject in a low, steady voice. “Before Searlas finds out where I am.”

The priest nods sadly. “That’s why I came here. Why I came with Peigí, specifically. We… have a suggestion.” He looks expectantly at Peigí, who offers you an encouraging smile as she nods in agreement.

“My sister, Rosie - she’s in the next county, big farm, spinster, plenty of space and could do with the help. You could stay there for a bit and then come home to your own place - until they change the garrison, surely, or that wastrel Searlas can be warned off…”

You bite your lip, mulling it over.

“I mean, maybe he’s not going to come looking for me.”

Peigí and the priest exchange a concerned glance. The cleric clasps his hands together and looks at you sympathetically.

“The thing is… I have eyes and ears, as it were, in the barracks, and in the public house preferred by the garrison. I didn’t want to tell you, my dear, in case it frightened you - but he has been talking about you.” He purses his lips, almost afraid to tell you the truth. “He has openly talked about finding you, about… claiming you. And if he finds out you’ve been staying here, with a bachelor - think of your reputation, my child.”

You let out an involuntary sob, and Peigí places a comforting hand on your arm. “I think you need to be gone tomorrow, girleen. At the latest. I’m sorry, I know it’s awful quick, but…”

For the first time, Din speaks. His voice is low, controlled, serious.

“But you - I mean, she must be kept safe.” He looks at you, dark eyes full of care and concern. “If you want to stay, I will keep you safe. I promise.”

There’s nothing more you want in the world than to throw your arms around him and let him protect you, just as you long to protect him from the sorrows of his past. But his description of the day he lost his parents echoes in your mind, as does the tension that crackled in the air the day the soldiers were at the forge. You cannot - will not - bring that down on him again, nor on Gró.

“Din, if I stay here I fear that none of us will be safe. Not you, not me, not Gró. I couldn’t take that risk, my d-” You catch yourself just in time. “I mean, my dear friend.”

Peigí’s wise, inquisitive eyes dart between you and Din, and she emits a low, intrigued hum.

Din exhales in frustration. “I said I would keep you safe, here. I mean it.”

Father Carthy places a paternal hand on Din’s shoulder, expression gentle but resigned. “She’s right, Din, and you know it. Apart from her own reputation - you don’t want a troop of redcoats landing on the doorstep, do you? Think of your home, your livelihood - your son.”

The blacksmith’s expression is defiant, but you can see the reality of the situation dawning on him as the light fades from his beautiful eyes. He nods, silent, a hand twisting at the soft, worn leather of his apron.

“Early as we can after dawn tomorrow, then?” Peigí squeezes your hand as she waits for your answer.

You cannot bring yourself to look at Din as you nod in agreement.

It is still bright outside, just about, when Gró is settled for bed and the dinner things cleared and tidied away. You have packed up your saddlebags in silence, fighting the tears that threaten to fall at any moment.

Din’s broad hand reaches around your waist as he moves past you, pulling you close to him. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin.

“Can we take a little walk, mo chuisle? Before night falls?”

You face him, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingers. “A little one. Don’t forget there’s a little boy asleep in the loft, we can’t go too far.”

He presses his lips to your fingertips before kissing you on the forehead.

You walk hand in hand in the dusk, wandering through the field at the back of the forge towards the old oak tree that stands at the boundary of the property. Din is quiet - even quieter than usual, just casting occasional glances in your direction and squeezing your hand with a gentle smile.

In the shadow of the oak, he kisses you deeply, pressing your body against the tree as he holds your face in his big, strong hands.

“I don’t want to go, Din.”

“I don’t want you to go, mo chuisle.” He kisses you again, chastely, and looks in your eyes. A question hovers on the tip of his tongue.

“Tell me, my darling.”

He holds your hands, grounding himself a little in your comforting touch.

“I want you to take Gró to Peigí’s sister’s. Please.”

Even in the half-light, he can read the shock on your face.

“Oh, Din, I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the two of you parted, he’d be lost without you and you without him and-”

He shakes his head firmly. “I have to keep you safe - both of you. And if a gang of redcoats turned up and it was just me and him…”

He saw his father die.

“He’s your son.”

Din nods. “He is. And I can’t leave him alone again.”

He lost his entire family.

“He might not want to leave with me.”

“I’ve explained it to him. He knows it’s not forever, he understands the reasons why.” You catch a glimpse of his smile, a beacon of hope in the twilight.

“Mo chuisle, you’re the closest thing he has to a mother in this world.”

You hold each other close through the night, afraid to sleep lest you miss a single second of this time together.

Din tucks his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and softly kissing the exposed skin of your shoulders. You wind your fingers through his hair, trying to memorise the rhythm of his heartbeat and his breath.

"You should sleep, mo chuisle,” he whispers against your body. “Tomorrow will be a hard one.”

"Says you,” you whisper in return, enough to elicit a muffled chuckle from the blacksmith.

He pulls away to look you in the eye, fingers mapping the shape of your features. Even in the low light, you can see how his beautiful eyes glisten: this strong and stoic man, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.

You take his hand and guide it down your body, pausing to hitch up your shift and open your legs. You inhale sharply as his fingers find your pussy, well-practiced now from nights and early mornings spent pleasuring you.

With a shift of your hips you roll onto your back, bringing Din on top of you. You pause to take in the sight, suppressing the gnawing feeling that this might well be the last time. The glint in his dark eyes. The moonlight illuminating his features. The feeling of his strong, broad body above you, perfectly positioned between your thighs.

“Make love to me, Din.”

He does so slowly, carefully, anchoring himself with one hand on your hip and the other still caressing the side of your face. You kiss as he fucks you, your whines absorbed by his soft mouth. No man had ever made you come before Din, you muse, as your cunt pulses around him and you near the edge. No man had ever made you feel like this - not just physically, but emotionally, too. Sex was presented to you before your marriage as a duty, not a pleasure. With Din, though, lovemaking felt like the most beautiful, natural expression of the spiritual connection that existed between the two of you.

You come almost simultaneously, Din groaning into your shoulder as he fills you with his seed, you biting your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Still inside you, he kisses you, over and over, your hands trailing through his wavy brown locks and fingers grazing against the rough, patchy stubble of his jaw.

For a moment, you think he’s about to say something. But all he does is kiss you.

It’s still dark outside when you wake, but there’s a comforting glow inside the cottage. You sit up in bed, turning to see Din stoking a small fire in the hearth. He has lit the lamp on the mantle, its flickering yellow flame casting light and shadow through the glass.

You dress quickly, shivering as your body adjusts to the colder air after the warmth of your shared bed, and cross the room to the little cupboard that holds the few pieces of crockery Din owns. By the time he has climbed the attic ladder to rouse the boy, you’ve set the table for a simple breakfast of bread, butter, and the last of the jam you’d brought with you.

Gró’s fair hair peeks over his father’s broad shoulder as Din carries him down the ladder. The little boy is still half-asleep, eyes still closed and nestled into the blacksmith’s frame. Din carefully slides him into his usual seat at the table, ruffling his son’s hair as Gró rubs his eyes and yawns.

“I think some bread and jam will help wake you up, hmmm?” You take a couple of slices of bread from the dish and place them on the boy’s little plate, before pushing the jar of jam in his direction. His dark eyes widen as he looks at you, astonished. This is a rare treat, indeed: usually it’s you or Din who spreads the sweet conserve on his bread, as Gró is liable to be heavy-handed. But this is not a day for rules or restrictions.

“You can have as much as you like, little one.”

The tears threaten at the sight of Gró enthusiastically scraping the jam out of the earthenware pot, a huge smile on his face as he spoons it liberally onto the soda bread. He takes a huge bite and hums delightedly, before turning to you and beaming. The little boy already has blobs of jam on his cheeks and nose, and the sight makes you chuckle.

Din returns to the main room carrying a small knapsack containing Gró’s things. He places it alongside your saddlebags before he joins the two of you at the table, giving your hand a squeeze that, you suspect, is intended to reassure him as much as it is you. He keeps a smile on his face, keeps his tone cheery and light, even as his eyes glisten with tears.

You are saddling Réaltín in the dawn light when Peigí appears down the lane, wrapped in a rough brown cloak and riding her small grey mount. She dismounts swiftly and nods to you.

“All set?”

“I think so. I left the two on their own for a little bit, just to… well, you know.” You swallow hard and look in the direction of the forge. “It’ll be hard for them.”

Peigí hums in agreement. “Aye, ’twill. But Din’s right. And hopefully that bollocks of a so-called husband will be out of the picture soon enough and you can come home. The prick.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the venom in her tone. “Hopefully. I’m awful grateful to you and your sister, Peigí. I mean, maybe we’re being overly cautious, but…”

She shakes her head, russet curls bouncing. “Not a bit of it. You can never tell with a fucker like that.” The cottage door opens, and Din appears, Gró securely held in his strong arms.

“And there’s the best boy in all of Ireland!” Peigí races over, taking the knapsack and planting a kiss on Gró’s cheek. “We should probably get going, girleen.”

She tactfully retreats to the horses, giving you, Din, and Gró some space to say your goodbyes. You feel the blacksmith’s broad arm snake around your waist, uncaring as to whether Peigí saw the affectionate gesture - or, more likely, all too aware that she knew exactly what was going on.

The little boy brings a hand up to touch his father’s handsome face, big eyes scanning Din’s features as if he’s committing them to memory.

“Ná bíodh eagla ort, grá mo chroí.” [Don’t be afraid, love] The blacksmith smiles, but he’s fighting back the tears as he kisses his son’s golden hair. Instinctively, you rest your head on Din’s shoulder, trying to keep your own emotions in check.

Gró’s dark eyes fill with tears and his father comforts him with cuddles. “You’ll have a lovely time on the farm, won’t you? And you’ll look after her while you’re on your visit.” He looks at you, and you nod, smiling at Gró.

“Of course he will. He’s a big, brave lad.” The little boy grins at the praise before flinging his arms around Din’s neck for a final tight hug.

“Be good, and take this.” Din reaches into his pocket to produce a small, silvery chain, evidently made by his own hands. A metal disc dangles from it, and you realise that Din has engraved it with his son’s name. He places it over the boy’s head, smiling at Gró as he picks up the pendant and coos at the shiny object.

“We should get going, lads.” Peigí’s voice carries in the still of the early morning, and Din passes his son to you. Gró nuzzles against you, still holding on to the little pendant that hangs from his neck.

Din’s long fingers find your hand and press something into your palm. He leans in to kiss your cheek. His voice, warm but wavering with emotion, whispers in your ear.

“Is tú mo ghrá thú, mo chuisle.” [You are my love, my darling.]

You stifle the sob that’s rising in your chest.

“I love you too, Din.”

Peigí’s sister Rosie shares her sister’s hardy, forthright personality and her tightly curled auburn hair, but not a lot else. Where Peigí is small, Rosie is tall; where Peigí is talkative and open, Rosie is quiet and reserved. Still, her welcome is genuine, her home comfortable, and you feel at ease from the moment you cross the threshold after a long day’s journey to some semblance of sanctuary.

You retire quickly once you’ve been fed and watered, Peigí sharing with Rosie while you and Gró make do with a settle bed. The little boy falls asleep almost immediately, and you gently kiss his soft cheek, willing him to know that it comes from his father, too.

With the household abed, you can finally look again at Din’s parting gift to you: a chain and pendant, similar to Gró’s. Where the little boy’s bears his name, however, yours carries a symbol, evidently engraved into the metal by the blacksmith himself. Three interconnected spirals - an ancient symbol, one that you recognise from a dolmen tomb that stands in a field not far from your birthplace, one that people in the locality have long speculated about.

Father Carthy would say it is a symbol of the Holy Trinity: three divine beings in one, a sign of early Christians in Ireland. But the storytellers in the townland say it’s far older than any church, its meaning lost to the mists of time.

You trace the three spirals with your fingertip in the darkness. Three as one. For you, that is meaning enough.

He was alone for a long time, Din reminds himself - alone before you, alone even before Gró. He can be alone again.

That said, though, there’s being alone and not knowing anything different, and being alone now. He still automatically goes to the foot of the attic ladder every morning, ready to wake his little boy. He hides the bowl and cup Gró usually uses, because the sight of them makes his heart ache. He throws himself into his work, distracting himself with glowing-hot metal.

And then there is your absence. He had never lived with a woman, not like this; never shared his bed night after night, never loved like this. For the first few days, he wakes with a start when he reaches for your warm, soft body and realises you’re not there.

He tries not to think about the reality of the situation: the fact that, even if you were to return home tomorrow, you could never be together, at least not while Searlas lived. There are nights when, alone in his bed and desperate for the embrace of your arms, violence tempts Din. In his younger years, he might already have taken matters into his own hands.

As the days and weeks tick by with no sign of your so-called husband, and no word from Father Carthy, the blacksmith reminds himself to be patient - and not to fall into complacency. He had never really lost that sense of looking over his shoulder: from childhood, from the rebellion, and now he felt glad of it. No one from the community mentions you to him, though he knows they must have heard by now that you had been hiding from Searlas at the forge. He does his repairs as usual, driving into the village with his pony and trap to return items and collect others, pulling his kerchief over his face as he makes his way through the main street lest he spy a troop of redcoats.

One of the regular customers asks about Gró when he’s returning her extra-large soup pan, newly mended. Din hesitates, but keeps his expression steady.

“He’s spending time with some…cousins,” he explains. “On a farm. It’ll be good for him, he’ll learn from the experience.”

The woman doesn’t ask further, pays up, and retreats back into her little house as Din turns his horse and cart for home. As he gathers speed, he hears a voice calling his name. Father Carthy, clad in his long black cassock and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, is waving to him from the end of the laneway that leads to the chapel.

“Could you spare me a few moments, Din? Follow me up to the parish house.”

The priest’s house is a decently-sized cottage, larger but not too dissimilar to the majority of the dwellings in the village. Father Carthy might be responsible for the majority of the believers in the community, but his is not the “established” church, the official church of the state and gentry, and as such his home is a far cry from the grand, double-fronted manse occupied by the vicar who tends to the local worthies. Even the location of the chapel, tucked off a narrow laneway behind the main street, is a testament to the lower status of this particular branch of religion.

Din enters, taking off his hat and kerchief, and follows the cleric’s gesture to take a seat near the hearth. Father Carthy does the same, pulling his chair closer to Din.

“I have news. I haven’t been able to find a way to dissuade Searlas from seeking her out, but a little bird tells me that they’re going to change the troops again in a week or so. The current crop has been…rowdy.” The priest purses his lips, mulling over the stories he has heard of public drunkenness, fighting, and even soldiers nonchalantly carousing with women in the pubs and on the street. He decides not to give Din too many of the gory details.

“So they’re going to be sent elsewhere, split up. Clonmel, I heard, for some, and Castlebar for others. Maybe a few to Cork. There’s ructions, as you can imagine - a rare thing to break up a regiment - but…”

Din meets the priest’s meaningful gaze. “But…he would be gone.”

Father Carthy nods. “It’s not a solution, not forever, but it at least would let her come home to her own place again, and Gró home to you. You were right to send the boy with her, too - who knows what might have happened had he come knocking?”

Din closes his eyes and furrows his brow at the priest’s turn of phrase: “her own place”. It was a reminder of the truth, that you were not - and could not be - his.

Father Carthy gets to his feet, a signal to Din that it was time to go. “In the meantime, I’m going to look more closely into the canon law around annulment. I’m not hopeful, but maybe she might be able to build a case for it. He did abandon her, after all. Anyway -” he opens the door, and Din exits “- it would free her, at least, from the threat of him.”

The blacksmith thanks Father Carthy as he saddles up to head back to the forge, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. On the road home, Din smiles to himself as he thinks about seeing Gró again, holding his little boy in his arms, watching you give him an extra spoonful of jam at breakfast, tucking him in to sleep at night. He thinks about your eyes, your smile; the feeling and taste of your mouth; the scent of your skin.

No matter what, he promises himself, no matter the rules or the law or whatever a piece of paper might say: he’ll kiss you again, hold you, take you to bed, and show you how much he missed you.

A couple of days later, as dusk settles, Din lights the lamp and finishes clearing away his lone dinner bowl and mug. Anticipation courses through him as he thinks about seeing two - no, three - places set for the evening meal again. Soon. Soon, they’ll be home.

He yawns and stretches, a hand reaching up to scratch his wavy, dark locks. It had been a hard day in the forge: a run of horses that needed to be shod, urgent repairs, and the difficulty of managing the work itself as well as the bellows and the fire, all by himself. An early night, he decides, might be in order.

He’s in his shirt and breeches when he hears the sound. A horse, its footfall cautious and uncertain, as though it had not been down the laneway before. A rider, barking commands and swearing at the animal. Din pulls his kerchief from his pocket and fastens it around his face before climbing swiftly up the attic ladder. His hand reaches into the thatch, on the other side of the house from Gró’s little bed, and retrieves a pike, smaller in design than the ones he’d hammered by the dozen in 1798 but no less lethal in the right hands. He grips the pike in his right hand, hidden from view while he opens the door with his left.

The rider struggles off his horse, evidently drunk. His scarlet tunic is unmistakable. The light from the cottage illuminates his features: pale, washed-out complexion; unhappy mouth set in a miserable line; hard blue eyes that offered nothing but coldness.

“Where the fuck is she, then, the stupid fucking bitch?”

Din’s fist tightens around the pike, but he holds his ground, still peering around the door. “Who is it? Who are you?”

Searlas swaggers drunkenly towards the house. “I know you’re a tinker, but you don’t have to play thick with me. You know who I am.” He beats his chest, peacocking as he nears Din’s threshold. “I’m a soldier of the fucking crown, so I am. And I’m here for what’s mine.”

He pokes Din’s broad chest, seeming a little startled at how solid the blacksmith actually is. Searlas’s watery eyes meet Din’s stern gaze.

“So… where the fuck is she?”

“Whoever you’re after,” Din says, maintaining the same tone he’s used throughout the encounter so far, “they’re not here. I live alone.”

Searlas pushes Din in frustration, and Din recoils a little at the stench of cheap poitín from the other, smaller man. “I know she’s fucking here. The whole fucking place knows.” He steps back and starts to roar upwards, as if addressing you in an attic hiding place.

“Did you not think I’d find you? You’re that fucking stupid, you would think that. I’m here now, time to go home. You’re mine, remember?” He shakes his fist, swaying a little.

“She’s not here. And even if she was, why do you care so much now? You left her on her own for years, apart from all the other things you did to her.”

Searlas stares at Din, a look of disgust on his face. “So you do know her? She’s full of shit, so she is. Full of lies. Not to be trusted.”

He wheels around again, almost losing his balance completely this time. “You were seen, you lying cunt!”

Din’s fingers clench and release over and over around the pike. He swallows the urge to run this miserable fucker through.

The soldier looks at him through glassy, drunken eyes. “She’s mine, see. And I think I want to take what’s mine. Time she was taught a lesson.” He roars the last word, as if hoping you’ll hear him and emerge.

The blacksmith edges out slightly and stands firmer, broader, in his front door. Searlas stares at him accusingly.

“D’you fuck her?”

Din holds his body and face completely still, focusing on the grip of the pike and his breathing.

“I said, did you fuck her? Did you fuck my wife?”

Din takes a deep breath. “Do you have the right to call her your wife, after what you did?”

Searlas’s jaw drops in astonishment. Din knew that he was just a bog-standard Irish Catholic soldier signed up for cannon fodder like all the others, but it was clear that the other man believed his uniform made him one of the “betters”, no matter what.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said, do you have the right to call her your wife?”

Searlas almost growls with drunken fury. “I have the right to call her whatever I fucking like.” Din notices his fist tightening by his side and steels himself as the other man approaches, menacingly.

“I’ll call her what I fucking like,” Searlas repeats, “including calling her what she is. A slut. A liar. A frigid, barren, useless excuse for a woman. And now? She’s filthy, tinker’s whore. That’s all she is. A stupid, ugly, disgusting tinker’s whore.”

The speed with which Din moves takes the soldier by surprise, as does the bright flash of the pike’s blade as it reflects the moonlight. The blacksmith uses the long handle first, roaring as he beats Searlas away with some well-placed blows. He moves with agility and confidence as the soldier fumbles in his sleeves for a weapon, and produces a narrow switchblade dagger.

“I’ll fucking show you, tinker,” he roars, the poitín giving him an exaggerated confidence. “I’ll skin you alive, fucking another man’s wife.”

He lunges at Din, but a swift, measured flick of the pike’s bladed end knocks the dagger to the ground and tears a hole in the scarlet tunic. Now Din presses his advantage, driving Searlas back to his horse.

“Get out of here and leave her alone. Forever. Don’t you ever come near her again.”

A more sober man would have cut and run, and would do so wisely. But Searlas’s selfishness combined with his drunkenness made for a terrible cocktail of aggression and abuse.

“And what will you do, tinker? They should have hanged every last one of you rebel scum in ‘98. Pity that scalp wasn’t ripped from your skull with a pitchcap.” He pats his thighs, as if seeking another blade. “You couldn’t defend yourselves then, why do you think you could stand up to the king’s army now?” He cocks his head and looks at Din, eyes menacing.

“Or are you just that desperate to defend a thick, useless slut like my wife?”

The grunting, the roars, and the sickening sound of a strong, sturdy fist meeting flesh and bone resonate in the stillness of the twilight. And then another sound, louder still: the unmistakable thud of a man’s body hitting the cold ground.

#tempered in the fire fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin au #blacksmith!din djarin #blacksmith!din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #historical AU #the mandalorian AU #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedrostories #the mandalorian #din djarin #tempered fic

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lemoncrushh · 3 months

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Meeting Harry Styles

Summary: After actress Mia Tangelo meets Harry Styles at a One Direction concert, he surprises her by showing up at her film premiere.

Warnings: None. I still ask that you be at least 18 to read my fics though.

Word Count: 3820

A/N: A cute one shot from 2016. Harry x OC. I believe this was a request where the woman was famous too. Obviously, this is 1D Harry.

My sister had taken me to a One Direction concert. Neither of us were particularly huge fans, but I'll admit I'd been known to sing along to a few of their songs on the radio. When she originally told me about the tickets I raised a brow, but ended up agreeing to join her, thinking it would be a fun night out with my sis. I'd recently wrapped up filming for my latest movie, and between that and press and promo for my previous film that was opening in a few weeks, we rarely got to spend time with each other anymore.

Halfway through the show, and a few beers later, Nora let the cat out of the bag. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the sheer excitement from the crowd, but with her arm looped through mine she informed me she'd always had a crush on Niall. I giggled at her as I leaned my head on her shoulder, watching the four boys on stage. My eyes, however, were not focused on the Irish one, but rather the tall, long-haired one in jeans so tight you could practically see-

"Mia!" Nora shouted in my ear, interrupting my dirty thoughts. "Did you see that? Oh my God, he's so cute! That smile!"

"Yeah," I grinned. I knew she was referring to Niall, but I wasn't.

I continued to stare at him in awe as he pranced around the stage, getting the crowd more riled up with each "make some noise!" and flip of his hair. A couple of times he came our way, and I could swear we made eye contact as he gave his dimpled grin and a thumbs up.

Harry Styles. I knew the name. I knew who he was. I guess for some reason I'd never really paid attention. One Direction was just a pop band with a handful of catchy tunes. But standing there in the audience, watching him in his element, I realized what Harry Styles really was - a rockstar.

When the concert was over and I was nearly deaf from all the screaming (okay, I might've contributed to it some), Nora and I grabbed our things to hurry toward the exit. In the early days, my sister and I would stay at the venue long after the show was through, and the seats had cleared out. But now that I had an acting career, I got recognized a lot. Not that I minded it, but sometimes fans would crowd around for hours, and I'd finally have to tell them I needed to leave. I still wasn't very good at turning people down and it made me feel bad, so it was just easier to leave the premises early.

As we made our way down the aisle, I caught the glimpse of camera phones snapping photos. Of course, I knew phones had been out during the entire concert, but I also knew people were getting pics of me. I even heard my name shouted a few times. Deciding to hold up a hand to wave, I felt Nora poke me in the back.

"What?" I turned to ask her.

"That guy's calling for you," she pointed ahead of me.

Twirling back around, I saw whom she was talking about, nearly bumping into him. He wore a white t-shirt that simply said STAFF on the front.

"Mia Tangelo?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"Harry Styles wants to meet you," he stated with a small smile.

My eyes about popped out of their sockets as I stared at the guy. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

My jaw dropped slightly as I eyed Nora who was practically up against my back, her arm still holding on to mine.

"Oh my God!" she squealed.

"You wanna come with me?" I heard the man ask.

"Oh, sure," I muttered. "Yeah."

Nora and I followed him through a maze that led us to a backstage area. I wasn't even sure how we got there without running into other bodies, but before we knew it, we were standing in front of a doorway.

"Just have a seat in there," the guy instructed, gesturing toward a sofa inside the room.

"Thank you," I said pleasantly.

I could feel Nora's nerves radiating off of her as she sat next to me. I chuckled low, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Honey, calm down," I whispered. "I've introduced you to my co-stars before."

"I know, and I was nervous as hell every time," she spewed.

I smiled. "They're just people, like you and me."

Nora raised a brow. "Like you, maybe, but not like me. Not even close."

"I hate when you talk like that," I scoffed.

"Hey, I wasn't just in a movie with Le-"

"Hello," I heard a British accent say. I lifted my gaze to the doorway where a very tall and handsome Harry Styles stood.

"Hi!" I greeted, rising from my seat. "Mia Tangelo, nice to you meet you." I extended my hand and Harry took it. A smile spread across his face, revealing his dimples again.

"Lovely to meet you, too, Mia. I'm a massive fan," he remarked, shaking my hand before leaning forward and kissing the air on either side of my face.

"Of mine? Really?"

"Yeah," he nodded, his gaze not wavering from mine. It was then that I noticed he still had a hold of my hand, and I had yet to acknowledge my sister who had stood up from the couch.

"Um," I cleared my throat. "Harry, this is my sister, Nora."

Nora, who had just been a ball of nerves less than a minute ago, suddenly found her courage and shook Harry's hand, giving him the lowdown on herself and how much she enjoyed the concert and wished she had seen them years ago. Harry was a gentleman, taking in every word. I took the opportunity to take in his beauty, my eyes traveling down his slim physique to his boots. He was even better looking up close, his thin t-shirt revealing a few tattoos underneath. I liked the way he kept combing his long fingers through his hair, and how full his lips were.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed the show," I heard Harry say.

I blinked just as I caught a glimpse of someone else walking in the room. I nudged Nora with my elbow. She let out a slight yelp when she saw him.

"Hello," I held out my hand when Niall walked up to me. "I'm Mia."

"Yeah, I thought I saw you in the audience," he nodded, shaking my hand. "Thanks for comin'!"

"You bet," I grinned, turning to Nora. "It was her idea."

As soon as I introduced Niall to my sister, she returned to her chatty self. I stood back and watched her in action for a bit until I felt those green eyes on me. Yes, I'd already noticed they were green.

"So, what did you think?" he asked.

"Sorry?" I turned to face him.

"The show," said Harry. "What did you think?"

"Oh," I mouthed, "I loved it."

I quickly found myself biting my lip like I did when I was nervous. I never told Nora, but I still got nervous from time to time. And the way Harry's eyes were burning into mine didn't help. Fortunately, I had learned how not to look away from someone when they spoke to me. It kind of came with the professionalism and red-carpet etiquette. And from the looks of it, Harry had been schooled as well.

"I'm glad," he grinned. "It's actually funny that you're here. I was just watching one of your films on the bus this weekend."

"Really?" I lifted my brows. "Am I allowed to ask which one?"

"Surrender," he replied a little sheepishly, his accent omitting the R at the end.

I felt the color rise to my cheeks though I tried my best to play it off. Surrender had been one of my earlier films, only my second major motion picture and my very first love scene. Although millions of people had seen it by now, and I'd done several movies since, the knowledge that Harry had watched me naked on the screen made me feel something I hadn't been prepared for.

I cleared my throat. "And did you like it?"

The corner of Harry's mouth curled up on one side, that damn dimple making its appearance once again. "Yeah...I did."

I pressed my lips together and nodded.

"Although, I think In the Dark Daylight may be my favorite," he remarked.

"Oh?" I widened my eyes. Although In the Dark Daylight seemed to have a bit of a cult following, it had been met with mixed reviews. Still, it had been my favorite to shoot thus far. "You know, we just finished filming the sequel."

"I heard about that!" Harry nodded, lightly gesturing to me. "And I hear there's a new film coming out soon?"

"Oh, yeah," I swallowed. "Yes. On the fourth."

"What's that one called again?"

"No Man's Land," I replied. "We're um...I'm really excited about it."

"Me too," Harry commented. "Can't wait to see it."

Despite my nerves, Harry's gaze certainly had a pull on me. I hadn't even noticed Liam and Louis had entered the room until Nora's laugh rang in my ears and I looked over to see them chatting with her. After introducing myself, the guy from earlier with the STAFF shirt peaked his head inside, announcing "twenty minutes". I wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but I figured it had something to do with them getting on their buses and heading to the next city, so we quickly said our goodbyes.

"Really lovely to meet you, Mia," Harry said softly after the other three boys had left the room, his hand gently touching my arm.

"You too, Harry," I beamed, allowing the heat from his skin to warm mine.

"Thanks so much for coming out to support us. I hope I get to return the favor someday."

I smiled wider. "You bet."

Harry and Nora said farewell and I followed her out into the hall, giving Harry one final glance and a wave, catching his dimpled smile one last time.

I could see the cameras flashing as soon as the car pulled up. Adjusting my dress and taking a deep breath, I waited for the driver to open the door. I was never going to get used to this, no matter how many movies I made.

I stopped along the red carpet to wave and do short interviews, my picture being taken every step of the way. I smiled as much as was necessary, but once I was indoors, I felt my body relax. I met up with several of the cast and crew for No Man's Land, taking more photos and sharing a couple glasses of wine that somehow had arrived in my hand. I chatted with a few other celebrities that I'd met before, as well as some that I hadn't. By the time I was seated for the screening, all nervousness was gone.

The audience applauded enthusiastically when the film was over, and I followed the rest of the cast down the aisle, making our way back to the crowd. Several of my peers congratulated me, telling me it was a stellar performance. I took their compliments graciously, thanking them for coming. I'd just turned from one conversation, prepared for another when I felt a hand on the small of my back.

"You were wonderful, Mia," a low voice sang in my ear.

I jerked around to see Harry, his tall, slim physique hovering over me. He looked amazing in a black suit and shirt, minus a tie so as to give a peek of his tattooed chest in typical Harry Styles fashion.

"Harry!" I whisper-shouted, grabbing his forearm before I could catch myself. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"Told you I was gonna return the favor," he said, covering my hand with his before leaning in to kiss my cheek. Unlike the air kisses he'd given before, his lips actually pressed against my skin.

"I-I'm so glad!" I exclaimed shakily. "It's good to see you."

"You too," he grinned. "You look stunning."

"Thank you," I said.

Or at least I thought I said it. Even in the dimly lit room, I was suddenly lost in his eyes, the pull even stronger than I'd remembered. I was also suddenly aware of what I was wearing. From the moment I'd stepped out of the car and the first camera flashed, it was like I was no longer in my body. I was on autopilot, knowing where I needed to stand, what I needed to say. But now standing next to Harry, his eyes on me, I was finally back inside my own skin, aware of all my senses.

My nervous habit of lip biting returned as I reached down to tug on the lace hem of my short dress, catching Harry's gaze as it travelled down my body.

"So, um..." I swallowed hard. "So you liked the movie?"

"Yeah," he eyes shifted back to mine. "I might've actually liked it more than In the Dark Daylight."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

Harry shrugged, giving a cheeky smirk. "Alright, maybe about the same."

I chuckled, feeling a bit of tension release. "That's still pretty good. I'll take it."

Harry and I chatted for a while about the film, and a couple of my others, though I was a bit grateful he didn't mention Surrender again. Some of my co-stars joined us and I introduced them to Harry, and even some people who knew him but not me came up to us. It turned out to be a really fun evening, and the more I was around Harry, the funnier and more charming he seemed to be, true to his reputation.

After more cocktails, I excused myself to the ladies' room. I hadn't expected Harry to wait for me, so when I returned and was greeted by another fellow actor, I stopped to talk to him. Halfway through the conversation, however, I caught a glimpse of Harry out of the corner of my eye. He gave me a smile which I returned before quickly averting my attention back to the man in front of me. As he droned on about something I knew nothing about, I couldn't help but keep the grin on my face as I saw Harry coming towards me.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. My stomach flipped when I felt his arm slide around my waist.

"Hi," I licked my lips. I hastily introduced him to the other actor.

"Do you mind if I steal her for a moment?" Harry asked.

The other man shook his head, cordially turning around to start a conversation with someone else. I looked up at Harry, a tiny giggle escaping my throat.

"Thanks."

"What for?"

"For saving me," I chuckled.

"Oh, I wasn't really trying to," he grinned. "Just wanted to be with you."

My face softened as I continued to stare at him. "Oh," I breathed.

"It's difficult to know the most beautiful woman in the room is over here, when I'm over there," he gestured with his head to the area he'd been standing before. It was then that I noticed his arm had loosened only slightly from around my waist, his hand now on the small of my back.

"Oh," I said again, sounding like a broken record. I blinked, my lips curling into a smile. Harry mimicked it, sending shivers down my spine. The way his eyes danced, I could swear he was about to kiss me, but I figured he thought it best not to in our current setting.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" he finally asked after staring at each other for a moment or two. "Or...do you have to stay?"

"No," I shook my head. "I mean, no, I don't...have to stay."

Harry's smile grew as he turned slightly and nudged me with his hand, leading me toward to the exit. When we made it outside, several cars were lined up to take various guests home (or wherever else they wished to go) as they climbed in. Some people had stopped to chat which made me feel more at ease, seeing as I'd just walked out of the theater with Harry. I didn't want our exit - or whatever this was - to appear too obvious.

"Do you wanna take yours or mine?" I heard him ask softly. I noticed then that he had his phone in his hand, no doubt ready to cancel his car if need be.

"Um...mine's fine I guess."

Harry nodded, typed something on his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. I didn't even need to call for my car. It was already pulling up to the curb by the time we stepped up to it, as if by magic. The driver opened the door and I slid into the back seat, Harry following me.

We were both silent for a couple minutes and I took the opportunity to take a few deep breaths and second guess what we might be doing. The intoxicating aroma of Harry's cologne weakened my senses, and I felt my mouth go dry.

"So, I suppose now," said Harry, interrupting my thoughts, "before we get to your place, or wherever it is we're going, I should probably confess something."

I blinked once, my eyes wide as I looked over at him. "What's that?"

Harry smiled his dazzling smile before looking down at his hands and back up at me. "I've fancied you for a while now."

I returned his smile. "You have?"

"Yeah. That wasn't the first time I'd watched Surrender."

My entire body was suddenly on fire from within, like someone had lit a match and tossed it inside. I bit my bottom lip, though this time not from nerves. Harry leaned over and brought his hand to my cheek, his eyes focused on my mouth, his thumb urging my teeth to release my lip. When it popped out, he slid his thumb across it before tilting his head and pressing his mouth to mine.

He kissed me softly and gently, his fingers tickling my cheek. Then his hand slid down to my neck as he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. He tasted like whiskey and cherries. That mixed with his cologne made my head spin, and I was perfectly fine with it. My left hand had found a resting place against his chest, and my right was somehow holding his in my lap. As I felt the car come to a stop, I pulled away.

"Are we there already?" Harry asked in a raspy voice, his eyes still closed and his mouth mere centimeters from mine.

I giggled lightly. "No. Just a red light."

"Oh," he said, his eyelids fluttering open. I grinned at him for a minute as he stared at me. There was no denying how handsome he was.

When the car began to move again, Harry sat back, his hand still holding on to mine. I looked down at them in my lap and smiled. Then Harry lifted them to his lips, kissing the back of mine.

"I'm glad you came," I muttered.

Harry gazed over at me. "So, confession number two," he said sheepishly, "I wasn't originally invited."

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

"As they say, I had my people call your people."

I let out a loud cackle. "You did not."

"Yeah I did. I wanted to see you."

"You couldn't have just gotten my number?" I inquired.

"And miss out on surprising you?" Harry quipped.

"Harry Styles!" I teased, shoving his arm.

"Were you surprised?" he asked.

"Very."

"Mission accomplished, then," he smirked.

I watched him in silence until I noticed we were turning into my neighborhood. My stomach flipped at the anticipation, and my palms were sweaty.

"Mia?" I suddenly heard Harry say as I was gazing out the window.

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking about this the whole drive...going back and forth in my head...and maybe it's because I'm sobering up but..." his expression softened as he shifted in his seat to face me. "I don't think we should sleep together tonight."

My face fell. "Oh. Okay." I felt like I was going to throw up.

"Please let me explain," he added. "It's not that I don't want to. I very much want to." He said the last sentence with a nervous chuckle.

"It's fine," I remarked, my jaw set to keep from revealing any real emotion. I felt like an idiot.

"Mia..." Harry sounded, scooting closer to me. He lifted my chin to look at him. I blinked fast, worried that a tear or two might sneak through. "I wanna get to know you more. I really like you. I wanna take you out, on a proper date. I don't want this to just be a hook up."

My eyelids fluttered a few more times as I let his words sink in.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Tour's over. I have some time to actually spend with you, get to know you better. Would you like that?"

I felt my cheeks rise as a smile slowly spread across my face. "I'd like that a lot."

"Good," he grinned just as the car pulled up to my house and we were let in the gate.

I quickly gave Harry my number which he programmed in his phone. When the driver opened the door, Harry got out first, holding his hand out for me. As I dug my keys out of my bag, I saw Harry talking to the driver before following me up the sidewalk.

"Wow, I get a gentleman walking me to my door," I commented. "It is like a first date."

"Well, I am a gentleman," remarked Harry.

"Do I get a goodnight kiss too?"

"Are you kidding?"

Harry slid his hands under my ears and kissed me like he had in the car, only with a bit more fervor and spark. I felt light-headed before he even let go, and by the time he did, I could barely stand.

"Are you sure you don't wanna stay?" I whispered.

Harry rested his forehead against mine.

"Next time, love," he breathed, his fingers dragging down my neck. "Promise."

With one last kiss, he turned back to the car. I watched him get in and wave goodbye before I unlocked my front door.

I had just climbed the stairs and was walking into my bedroom when my phone rang in my bag.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mia, it's Harry," he said. "Would you like to go out with me Saturday night?"

I giggled like a schoolgirl as I sat on my bed and kicked off my shoes. "I'd love to, Harry."

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

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rusty-gloinks · 1 year

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MURDER DRONES EPISODE 5 : Random details and favorite parts of this episode

Will be putting major spoilers under cuts if anyone has NOT seen the new episode, or has yet to see it. CW/TW: Blood, body horror, murdery stuff! SPOILERS!! AHHH!!! You get the point. I am not responsible for your actions :3

(This post is a mix of different things btw, Md related tho)

None of this will be in order, and I might need to make a PART TWO!!! Since the total is 45 images. :’)

FIRST UP. I would like to take the time to appreciate doll so have some LOVELY LITTLE images of her I took.

She looks so fucking awesome???? Like holy shit. She slayed!!!!!

not to be fruity .but. yea

SHE. also Isn’t that the campsite? Or just a different location with the same appearance.

OKAY. Next up. BABYGIRL . I SQUEALED AT LIKE EVERY SCENE OF THEM SHES SO FUCKING CUTE. MAN😭

BLEEEEEH (I’m going to make this my icon soonthat was the purpose of the screenshot. Also because I love them)

World is mine by Hatsune mi- cyn. World is mine by cyn. The famous vocaloid /j (HSES 😭😭😭😭)

Noticing how her balance is SOOO Much better while holding someone?. Also MOOD .just like me .real 💔

i lov e you🥺EEEK /p. Shes melting

MY SIB AND I WERE FUCKIJG DYING OVER THE PUPPY EYES.LMAO. I love their humor

J* , and they locked her in the basement. I am so SAD about this information

PROTECTIVE BIG BRO MODE…babys

Okay, listen, i know these 2 got shipped before the release but OUCH this makes things so much weirder!!! eugh:( (mainly saw em as friends.tttotallt not becsuse I project my friendship with my silly mutual onto them.no. /sarc)

anyways forget them being friends as my headcanon. THEYRE FUCKING SIBLINGS EVEN BETTER!!! (prjdedcts me and my elder sib onto th— *gets killed /j*

GAY RIGHTS(After the 2nd watch i realized she was making them kiss each other and I started laughing so hard my sides hurt)

Okay glitch QUIT SHOWING OFF. god damn !!!!! Literally appreciating this scenery so hard. 10000/10. :3

YKNOW HW I WANTED TO SEE TEARS IN THE NEW EPISODE!! LOOK. KIND OF CLOSE!!

LOOK HES SOBBING!!!! ALMOST. I GOT WHAT I WANTED OMFG!!!!! YAYYA!!!! (Love it when ppl cry /j

Lovely little lad. Reading abt dogs:) so cute…

subtle hints of favoritism..👀(she obvs likes J more I think,)

I love how immediately i could tell this was drawn by Liam. Canonically J in the show but like his style is so adorable and bouncy!!!! AND LIKE yummyys:3 eated

Cute detail in Uzi’s room. SHE LIKES BABY COWS GUYS. ITS TIME TO MAKE FANART OF UZI WITH BABY COWS. /J

Blushys:)!

For those wondering what this is it’s basically a ripoff of YouTube. The caption is titled "Top 100 Doors ever!!11!" and then the views at the bottom 😭😭. KHAN AND HIS FUCKING DOORS GOD DAMNIT

This part scared the shit out of me i was literally about to cry. I THIUGHTT SHE KILLED HIM

I had to slow this down and repeat the same clip OVER AND OVER Just to get it right, apparently the solver can swap roles? (The order is supposed to be yellow then purple since Uzi takes over as an admin instead of CYN.) very cool.

STP FIGHTING D:

BOTH VRY SCARY :(

Better glimpse of her backpack. Cute little skullbat zipper!! Also batteries. 👍

Apparently DEAD BATTERIES, aka the logo on Uzi’s sweater could be a possible band? Or reference to a band I don’t know? Like how they have my chemical robots (or something like that) as a ref to the band MCR (romance).

Sigh., N was that you.

Conlang? Fictional language? Glyphs? I’m assuming it’s VERY important (since liam lovessss foreshadowing, i will further elaborate). Hoping there will be ways to "simplify" it to english!

Yknow how in episode 2 Uzi takes braidens sentience or sumn like dat. Yea 💀

Alright I’ve hit the limit, gonna rb again with part 2!!!!! Soon. Maybe

#murder drones #Murder drones spoilers #Spoilers #md spoilers #spoilers md #murder drones spoilers #Md spoiler #Murder drones episode 5 spoilers #Ask to tag #Md ep 5 spoilers #Murder drones ep 5 spoilers

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pastanest · 2 years

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if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @rosieathena - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x gender neutral!reader

Tell Me You’re Okay

- Spencer is one traumatised boy we been knew

- and he opened up to you about pretty much all of it prior to asking you out. you’d already confessed your feelings towards him, but with all his baggage, he wanted to be sure you knew what you were getting yourself into

- he cried, you cried, and you ended up embracing each other in an emotional heap

- when you held Spencer’s face and kissed him, he knew that you had stayed, despite everything he’d told you and everything he believed to be wrong with him. you stayed

- you were aware of the horrors of the world, especially the one’s that Spencer’s job helped protect people from, but you arent on the team

- you’re a sweetheart, a kind soul, someone with a smile that lights up a room as soon as you walk in

- to Spencer, you’re like a ray of sunshine. a beaming person, quite literally. he’d never known such a bright person before, the only one to come close would be Penelope

- you are a being of pure joy, and Spencer feels like it is his job - more than that, the very reason he was put on this earth, was to protect you

- so when away on a case following a serial of victims who all resembled you ever so slightly, he couldnt help the fear and anxiety that built within him

- this only got worse when he looked at the crime scene of the victim murdered a few minutes after the team landed, the victim looked more like you than any of the previous ones

- the more Penelope informed the team of the habits and lifestyles of the victims, the more Spencer found himself making mental notes of all the similarities they had with you

- he couldnt just abandon the case and fly home to you, he had to figure out the case, but just having the slightest involvement of you, the mere idea of someone trying to harm his angel...Spencer found the case personally difficult, to say the least

- but he checked in with you regularly, texted every moment he could, made sure to call you every night but never for long because he didnt want you to miss out on sleep because of him

- Spencer didnt tell you that the case was bothering him, but you could tell, and since you didnt want to pester him, you found other ways to get through to him

- during the day, even if you knew he wouldnt see the texts for hours, you’d send him sweet messages cheering him on and making him smile

- anytime Spencer checked his phone, he’d seen an utterly adorable text from you

hey love! making jello cuz I miss you 🥰

- emojis arent Spencer’s vocabulary of choice, but he finds your use of them very endearing

- your messages reassured him more than he could possibly express, but he still couldnt properly relax at any point

- somehow this got worse after the team caught the killer. Spencer knew you were safe without a doubt, though he also knew you were safe from the beginning because he was states away, but you were now safe even from his paranoid thoughts

- let’s not forget that his last proper gf died horribly in front of him lmao so his paranoia is justified bless him

- sitting on the plane home, Spencer is restless, needing to get back to you more than he’d ever needed anything in his life

- he’d texted you to say he was on his way home, so of course you are sitting on the couch all cozy in your pj’s waiting for him

- as soon as you hear the door unlocking, you jump to your feet and bound over to him with the buggest grin on your face

- Spencer feels his entire body relax with the deepest sigh when he sees you

- you practically jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, squealing with excitement, making Spencer laugh for the first time in a week, the kind of laugh that only happens around you

“Spence!! I’ve missed you so much!” You cheer, sounding almost as relieved as he feels.

“I’ve missed you too, so much, there arent even words-“ He feels himself getting choked up, and you’re quick to jump off him

- your hands cup his face, gently forcing him to look at you as you frown at him with concern

“Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me sweetheart.”

- Spencer sniffles, his own hands unable to leave your hips, his thumbs drawing circles on them

“Just...tell me you’re okay, please.”

- he sees the way your heart melts, he can tell just from looking in your eyes

- the most beautiful, soft smile overtakes your face

“Spence, anytime you’re around, ‘okay’ is the most inaccurate term I could possibly use.”

- Spencer chuckles at this

“Forgive me, what’s a more accurate term?”

- you beam, standing on your tiptoes and leaning close to his face, your lips mere centimetres away from his when you whisper your answer

“Perfect.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #x reader #criminal minds #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon

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thirsty-boba-fett-posts · 1 year

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Part III of Bounty of the Desert - see Masterlist for previous installments

Based on the results of THIS VERY SCIENTIFIC POLL, readers chosen a name for Fruit Merchant Princess - y’all have dubbed her Mor Halcorr. Henceforth she shall be referred to by her first name instead of just she/her, greatly improving the quality of my prose.

tw: smut because these two idiots can’t flirt circles around each other forever

It’s 5:30am and I don’t feel like proofreading.

If pressed, Boba Fett would admit that she was certainly comely but that it her relationship to the Tuskens came as no surprise - Mor was, after all, a pleasant, unassuming girl with a friendly, open face who grew up on The Dune Sea. The Tuskens were notorious for their hostility towards outsiders, but had been known to develop informal handshake trade agreements with individuals or smaller parties.

If pressed, he would refer to her as a sweet but unremarkable girl, but be careful to add that she’d be a fine addition to any of the wealthy merchant (or crime) families on Tatooine.

If pressed, he would express admonishment at her mother for keeping Mor at the fruit stand when she’d proven that she was perfectly capable of handling herself at the palace on Tribute Day. Porglettes can’t stay in the nest forever. Not that Bayata should get any ideas, but he wouldn’t mind seeing her at the formal meeting of the guild heads.

He would not under any circumstances that didn’t involve a few rounds of strong Corellian whiskey admit that he was utterly infatuated with her - that when Mor’s clear, bright eyes found him in the market as she absentmindedly sipped black melon milk (from a straw, no less) that he could not stop himself from smiling warmly at her and signing a Tusken greeting, which she always returned. As the Daimyo of Mos Espa in the middle of a steadily heating conflict with the Pykes, he had little room in his day for anything but political machinations and violence, but were she to show any interest, he would spring his little porglette from her parents’ fruit stall and start every Tribute Day by bending her over the arm of his throne.

…

It was Boonta’s Eve and citizens of Mos Espa, although no longer laboring under the yoke of a Hutt, were generally not the kind of people who turn down a halfway decent excuse to have a good time. The Sanctuary was so busy that the part spilled out into the street where revelers threw dice and danced to buskers with more enthusiasm than musical talent.

Bayata and Iakor were making the rounds and dragging their truculent daughter along with them. Boba Fett was reluctantly gladhanding with out-of-towners and off-worlders-when Mor managed to catch his eye from the bar.

“Rescue me,” she signed in Tusken, nodding her head towards her mother who was just about to introduce her to some prominent looking gentleman and his lanky, knobby looking son.

The little porglette wanted him to bail her out, he thought.

“You’ll owe me,” he signed.

“Anything,” she signed back urgently before her attention was pulled away by the niceties of introductions.

Ah well, now he had her.

…

“Lord Fett! So good to see you!” Bayata nearly squealed when she saw him approaching.

“It’s good to see you enjoying the festivities, Bayata, but if you don’t mind - I have business with your daughter,” Boba replied, striking the perfect balance between appropriately jovial and nonchalant.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise and delight. Ever the opportunist, thought Boba.

“Thank you,” Mor signed discreetly behind her mother’s back.

“Of course, Lord Fett! She’s all yours!”

Boba Fett held out his arm and Mor took it with a guilty smirk.

He steered her towards one of the large verandas, stopping on the way to order them both drinks. The veranda was quiet and Mor seemed visibly relieved now that he had the opportunity to get a good look at her. She exhaled a deep sigh and closed her eyes as a cool breeze blew in from The Dune Sea.

“You don’t seem at all keen to settle down with any of the fine young men your mother has in mind for you,” he observed.

“Did that gangly womp rat look like a ‘fine young man’ to you?” she asked.

He chortled heartily.

“Thank you for rescuing me and giving my mother some cud to chew,” she said, quite genuinely. “You’re better company than some stuffy politician’s son.”

“Oh am I?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. He looked about as much fun as a kowakian monkey-lizard living in a Hutt’s skinfolds.”

The comparison made him bellow with laughter.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, I’ll give you that Porglette!”

“PORGLETTE?” she exclaimed with mock indignation.

…

A few glasses of dry tatooine white wine managed to file down some of Mor’s sharp edges and Boba, sensing the same vulnerability she’d displayed after coming back from trading with the Tuskens, offered her a soft place to land. She was such a prickly little porglette, but he knew she was just guarding her downy little porg belly from potential harm. He decided to be direct with her.

“Come back to the palace with me, porglette. Spend the night in my bed and let me show you what a man with experience can offer you.”

Her eyes widened and she gave the smallest gasp before placing both palms on the chest plate of his armor and resting her forehead on his shoulder.

“Yes please.”

…

The two of them barely made it up the spiral stone stairs to Boba Fett’s private chambers. Boba shed is armor in between placing wet kisses at the junction between her neck and shoulders.

Once he had her on the bed caged between his powerful forearms and pinned under his pelvis with her legs wrapped around him, he paused and stroked her hair.

“Listen to me, little one. How about you stop all this foolishness and come live here at the palace.”

She understood what he meant - stop all this foolishness of dodging her mother, give in to her powerful attraction to the Daimyo, and live the life she was meant to with someone who understands her.

He could see the gears turning in Mor’s head and without thinking reached down between them to lovingly stroke her stomach. His little porglette was so worried about what would happen if she allowed herself to be resistless. She whined and pulled him close.

“You’ll take care of me?”

“That’s what I’m offering, mesh’la.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder.

He flipped them both over so that she was straddling him and slipped her dress over her head. She was soft and biddable under his hands and he wanted to give her every conceivable reason to continue to trust him.

He reached down between them and felt the wetness between her legs. She was ready for him.

She took the length of him in her hand and stroked tentatively. He rewarded her initiative by kissing her forehead and squeezing the back of her neck.

“You’re mine, aren’t you little porglette?”

“How much longer do you think you’ll be able to call me porglette and get away with it?”

He chuckled and slapped her ass. She yelped and giggled, then moaned as he began kneading the soft dimpled flesh of her butt cheeks.

“Put me inside of you and I’ll call you whatever you want, mesh’la.”

She did as she was told and as she sank down onto the hard, thick length of him they both moaned in unison. She needed a moment to adjust to his girth and he took the opportunity to run his hands up and down her thighs. She brought her body down to lay on his broad chest and he canted his hips to stay inside of her and he put his arms around her. He thought initially that she would want to set the pace of the encounter, but now she seemed to need something different.

“Do you want me to take control, little one?”

She nodded with the side of her face against his chest and tucked her arms under his shoulders.

He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head as he very slowly began moving inside of her. She sighed softly and relaxed against him. He took his time with her, thrusting at a leisurely pace and occasionally reaching down to knead one of her ass cheeks. She made delightful noises against his chest and he felt the desperate closeness of her orgasm building in her belly. The pace and strength of his thrusting increased and he held her face against his chest, kissing the top of her head and she came. He was not far behind and grunted as she squeezed ever last drop of cum out of him.

Knowing she would need reassurance afterwards, he pulled a soft bantha hide over them and held her tightly. She seemed to want to bury herself in his chest. For all her prickly sass, she was the same nervous girl he’d met on his first Tribute Day. He turned onto his side and tucked her into his body with her back to him. He moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck, and in response she squeezed his forearms.

“This is where you belong, little one.”

“I know, Daimyo.”

…

@daimyosprincess

@dukeoftheblackstar

@nintendobl00d

@acatalystrising

@ladytano420

#boba fett x reader #the book of boba fett #boba fett thots #boba fett imagine #boba fett smut #boba fett can get it #daddy daimyo

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theemptyspacehelmet · 2 years

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Was really hoping this dude was just going to end up some lovable weirdo who is a pro at his job and loves to tease his one and only colleague whose probably been rivaling against him for years since college but given the last episode’s preview he’s just another ableist jerk.

#extraordinary attorney woo #kdrama #jung myung seok #kang ki young #choi dae hoon #jang seung jun #an academic rivals-to-lovers that never was #he had such great chemistry with attorney jung too #is it weird to ship them?#i had all these headcanons and everything #hopes dashed #the way they refer to each other informally makes me squeal #he just wants his attention

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bobbyonboard · 2 years

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Leavin’ On a Jet Plane [Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader]

Summary: did I pretty much just loosely follow the plot of Top Gun: Maverick? You bet I did. Or in other words--your new husband has just been called back to Top Gun for reasons unknown. Just a lil’ thing detailing those two weeks.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (rip to the best couple of all time, goose and carol), oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, maaaaaaaaaybe if you squint a tiny bit of breeding kink, it’s lots of build up and then just smut.

Word Count: 4.7k

Author’s Note: This is extremely self-indulgent. I haven’t posted a fic in over two years, so PLEASE be kind to me. Even though I am 27, I will cry if strangers on the internet are mean to me. Is all the info in it correct? No. Did I change a few things to make it suite my heart’s needs? Yes. Requests are always open and you can check out my masterlist here, which I’ll be updating shortly! Because there are plenty more Top Gun fics sitting in my brain lol

also big thanks to @bradshawsbaby and @callsignbob for their fics being so amazing that it kicked my ass back into writing fics

Three weeks.

It certainly wasn’t the longest you’d ever been apart, but still–it was three weeks. Watching your husband toss his bags in the back of his Bronco had that familiar pang pulsing in your chest, and you tried not to frown as you leaned against the doorframe.

“Hey now, you know I hate that look,” Rooster cooed as he came back up the front steps of your small, shared home. He stayed a step or two lower than you, so the two of you were pretty much the same height, and he bumped your nose with his own.

“It’s three weeks, baby. I’ll call you every night. Text you every second I can,” he promised, his arms moving to wrap around your waist as he pulled you up against his chest, pressing soft kisses to your jutted bottom lip in quick succession.

Truthfully, you weren’t upset about the length. Like he said, three weeks wasn’t horrible. What really had you worried was the fact that he’d been recalled to Top Gun at all. They barely gave the pilots any information, which meant that your husband could tell you even less–and you didn’t care for it in the slightest. Going back to Top Gun could only mean one thing–something was happening and they needed the best and the brightest.

“I know you will,” you sniffled, and you tried your best to put a smile on, if only for Rooster’s sake. “Just don’t want you forgettin’ about me while you’re gone,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood in just the slightest.

Your smile became genuine when Bradley gave a dramatic role of his eyes and clutched at his chest playfully. “You think I’d forget about you?! About this?!,” he scoffed, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass and give it a squeeze as you squealed with laughter. “You must not know me at all, Mrs. Bradshaw.”

Six months of marriage hadn’t changed the way that made your stomach flip–hearing yourself referred to as “Mrs. Bradshaw” had your cheeks dusting a light pink, and you bit your bottom lip lightly.

“Alright, Lieutenant Bradshaw. You better call me, then. And you–,” you stopped briefly, swallowing a little thickly at your next words. “You better come home to your wife.”

Rooster stiffened a bit at that, placing his hands on the sides of your face and letting his thumbs brush lightly over your cheekbones. “Hey,” he whispered, pressing your foreheads together and taking a deep breath. He’d never make a promise to you he couldn’t keep–he knew that better than anyone.

“I will do everything I can to come home to you. Okay?”

You just nodded at his words, leaning in to give him a long, passionate kiss, your fingers tangling in his loose, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt as you kept him close. The two of you continued to kiss for a few minutes, just clinging to each other before you finally pulled away, sliding his aviators on his nose for him, the sun just coming up over the horizon.

“You’ve got a long ride, Roos,” you murmured, giving him one more kiss before smoothing his hair back against his head. Rooster was stationed at Naval Air Station Lemoore, in Lemoore, California. It was a cute, quiet little military town, and while the two of you missed the coast something terrible, you were content with the little community you’d built for yourselves. Bradley had decided he’d enjoy the five hour drive down to North Island instead of flying (something about ‘not enjoying a plane ride when he’s not the one piloting’) so here you were, staring at his Bronco and wishing you were going to be camped out in the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I gotta get goin’,” he whispered in return, giving you one more searing kiss before he was pulling away and giving you that signature Bradshaw grin. Before you could even properly miss him, he was in the car, turning on the engine and rolling down the window as he was backing out of the driveway. Once he was parallel with the street, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “I love you, Mrs. Bradshaw!,” and laid on the horn, whooping and hollering. You couldn’t help but just laugh, knowing the neighbors were certainly awake now, if they weren’t already. You just blew him a kiss and watched him drive off into the sunrise, and quietly hoped these three weeks would go by quickly.

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The first day was always the hardest. Work couldn’t even take your mind off of the fact that you’d be going home to an empty house, so you just moped around the office and immediately got into the bath the second you were home. You were thankful for a quick phone call from Rooster that night, but it was mostly drowned out by noise from The Hard Deck, and you urged him to go have fun with his friends on their first night there. They rarely got nights like those anymore, and they deserved them.

You were at lunch the next day, casually scrolling through Instagram while you ate your sandwich, when suddenly Bradley’s picture filled the screen (it was one of him in black and white, wearing his sunglasses in bed the morning after his latest birthday) and you answered the phone call quickly.

“Hiya honey,” you beamed, cradling the phone to your ear as you took another bite of your sandwich. “How’s your first day?”.

“Baby, why don’t you come down here, huh?,” Rooster practically cut you off, voice sounded just slightly strained and in a hushed tone. “God, it’s beautiful in San Diego. You love it here–it’s only three weeks. I’ll get ya a hotel room and you can make it a vacation. Whatdya say?,” he asked, and for some reason, it felt more like he was begging you to come and stay with him, versus suggesting a fun little trip.

“Bradley, what’s wrong?,” you asked automatically, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“Nothin’!,” he almost squeaked out, and he could tell by your silence that you didn’t believe that for a single second.

He was quiet for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only half a minute. He cleared his throat, and you thought you even heard a soft sniffle.

“It’s Maverick,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “He’s the instructor.”

Your heart immediately sank into your stomach, and you clung even tighter to your phone. You knew exactly what that meant. You’d never met Captain Mitchell yourself, only heard the stories from Bradley. The story of him pulling his papers. The story of how his father had been in the plane with the other pilot when he died. The only version you’d ever seen of your husband and Maverick’s relationship had been a non-existent one. The two had successfully avoided each other for years–now only to be forced to not only work together, but for Rooster to learn from him.

“Oh, honey,” you whispered, running your hands through your hair and sighing softly. There was nothing Bradley could do. This was Top Gun, and it was the military. They didn’t just let you go somewhere else because you didn’t like your teacher.

“I can’t do it–I can’t do it alone, Y/N,” he whispered into the phone, hands trembling slightly as he gripped it tightly in his hand, bent over in the chair he was currently sitting in.

“It’s three weeks, baby. I can’t just take off work. They’d–”

“Please.”

Your mind was made up before he even finished the word.

“Alright. I’ll go talk to Craig about seeing if I can work remotely the next few weeks, okay?,” you told him softly, wishing you could reach through the phone to hold him gently. “I’ll let you know when my flight lands. I love you,” you whispered.

“Thank you,” he sobbed softly, and a beep let you know the phone call had ended.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first flight that didn’t cost you an arm and a leg left the next morning at ten-thirty, and you were looking out the window at the approaching ocean with a mixture of emotions bubbling in your chest. While it had only been two days, you were already excited to see Bradley. His goofy grin, his strong arms. But you know a lot of this trip was going to be navigating the treacherous waters of the past, and you had forgotten your life vest back on shore. The two of you never did dig too deep into the passing of Rooster’s father, and certainly not the loss of having Maverick in his life. That topped with the loss of his mother as well, you knew the next few weeks would certainly be emotional.

But for now, you were just thankful to have an understanding boss that allowed you to work remotely for the next few weeks (you might have added in a few tears and used the ol’ military wife card). The plane jolted to a stop once it hit the runway, and you made your way out of there as quickly as possible.

You grabbed your bags from baggage claim and walked outside, sliding on your sunglasses and trying to look at the row of cars in search of a free taxi. Bradley was due to be at Top Gun all day, so you were just going to go to your hotel and check in, check a few emails, and then hopefully get to have dinner with your loving husband that night. But right as you were turning towards the row of taxis, you spotted a familiar looking Bronco, with a familiar looking man in a jumpsuit sitting on the hood.

“Two days, and you already don’t recognize your husband?,” Rooster shouted as he jumped down, running over and picking you up in his arms and spinning you around as you squealed.

“What are you doing here?! Shouldn’t you be in class?!,” you asked him, adoring every kiss he placed all over your face before he finally settled on your lips with a soft hum, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts as he pulled you closer.

“Lunch,” was all he mumbled, fingers sliding up into your hair and keeping the two of you pressed together until you were both gasping for breath.

“Thank you,” Rooster whispered, and you didn’t need to hear those words, but appreciated them nonetheless. He never asked you for a thing–Bradley Bradshaw did everything in the world for you and never once expected anything in return. So when he asked you for something this one time? You would have dropped the world for him.

“Of course, baby,” you murmured in return, stroking his cheek lightly and giving him one more kiss. “Now, you drop me off at the hotel and I’ll be waiting for you tonight when you’re done. Deal?,” you grinned with a wiggle of your eyebrows, wanting to see that smile again.

It did the trick. Rooster let out a loud laugh, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as he led you to the car.

“Yes ma’am!”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next two weeks went by fairly quickly. You spent every moment you could with Rooster, listening to him rant about a particularly tough day, drinking at The Hard Deck with his fellow aviators, or just holding him in the wee hours of the morning while he slept with pitiful whimpers of his father and mother’s names on his lips.

Then one night, Bradley came home with a sad smile on his lips, and you knew that they’d been given final confirmation of their mission.

“We leave in the morning, 0500,” he murmured against your skin that night, fingertips lazily drawing circles on the small of your back.

You attempted to not to act as petulant as you felt, just nodding and biting at your bottom lip, trying not to cry. You understood Bradley’s job the moment you met him. He was a pilot, and sometimes he went on missions, but most of his job was relatively fine. This wasn’t World War II. He wasn’t running off to a far away land knowing he’d never come home. We weren’t even at war with anyone, for Christ’s sake. At least, that’s what you had told yourself to make it all easier.

But instead, you found yourself having to accept the fact that this might very well be the last time you ever see the love of your life, and before you could even try to keep it together, you were burying your face in Bradley’s chest and sobbing.

“I know, darlin’. I know,” was all he whispered, hands rubbing slowly along your spine as he just hummed softly under his breath, trying his best to comfort the both of you. But his words felt like white noise in your ears, just a dull roaring that seemed to drown everything out as you found yourself staring at the alarm clock on the nightstand that was blinking red every few moments.

You had managed to calm down, and husband and wife lay in silence for a few minutes, the heaviness that filled the air laid across the two of them like a weighted blanket.

“I was supposed to be the one taking care of you down here,” you sniffled, a tiny smile on your lips as you turned to look up at Rooster, your chin resting on his sternum.

His pearly whites peeked out from under his mustache, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You always do.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four in the morning was there before you knew it, and it seemed that Rooster couldn’t sleep either. He was already up and in the process of getting dressed when the alarm went off, soft music playing from the shitty radio/alarm clock on the nightstand. You recognized the tune quickly as Leavin’ On a Jet Plane by Peter, Paul, and Mary. What a sick joke.

You sat up in bed and rubbed at your red, tired eyes, feeling smaller than you ever had. It was as if the room suddenly felt five times bigger, and the mattress was going to swallow you up.

“When will–When will I know you’re back?,” you whispered, voice thick with both emotion and sleep.

Bradley sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and letting it lazily twirl around his finger. “It’s not supposed to be any longer than ninety-six hours, there and back. We’re in, we’re out,” he murmured, hating that that was the only information he could give you. You just nodded in understanding, moving to crawl into his lap, arms draping around his neck as you clung to him.

“You come home to me, do you understand?,” you whispered, fingers clutching the material of his shirt. “Because if you don’t, Rooster, I swear to God, I’m going to go to whatever fucking country you’re in, and bring your ass back myself,” you added, and you could feel your love smiling against you neck.

“Yes ma’am, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he whispered in return, and suddenly you felt something drip onto your shoulder, and felt Rooster’s chest tremble a bit before he pulled back. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay,” he added, leaning in to give you a loving, passionate kiss, one that reminded you of the early days of your relationship, when he’d kiss you good night like he was afraid in the morning, he would have only dreamt you.

You finally pulled away, wiping away his tears as he wiped away your own, and you moved to sit down on the bed, arms wrapping around yourself as he got up and grabbed his bag.

“I love you, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he said once more. You blinked, and he was gone.

The sob that ripped through your lips was loud enough to echo into the hall, and it would stay with Bradley Bradshaw forever.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Towards the end of the fourth day, you were sitting at the bar of The Hard Deck, miserably staring out at the ocean and lazily sipping at your Diet Coke, not even bothering to take the straw out of your mouth between sips.

“Y/N,” Penny said gently as she walked over, leaning over and letting her elbows rest on the wood. “They’ll be home soon. Believe me, if something was wrong they would have–,” she stopped herself, sometimes forgetting that being familiar with the Navy for her whole life could make her a little jaded to situations.

“They would have already sent someone to tell me he’s dead. Yeah. I know,” you shot back, and the instant the words left your lips, you winced at your tone. You just turned and reached out your hand, taking hers and giving it a soft squeeze. “Sorry,” you whispered, a tight smile stretched across your lips.

“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for,” she assured you, squeezing your hand in return. “It’s tough. It never gets any easier.”

The two of you managed to get your minds off of your boys for another hour or so, Penny telling you about how she was going to take Amelia out on a boat ride once she got out of school, before you decided you’d at least try and get some rest back in your hotel room. You had just parked Rooster’s Bronco in a space outside of your hotel when a Naval Alert popped up on your phone:

USS LANGLEY ARRIVAL TIME: 1600

“Oh my god. Oh my fucking GOD,” you gasped, immediately turning the car back on and practically flying down the Coronado Bridge and making your way to North Island. There was already a small crowd of family and friends standing around, and it was moments like this you were reminded that it wasn’t just Rooster and the pilots that were gone. It was an entire ship full of people whose families were waiting for them.

You nervously paced around for awhile, making small talk with some other wives around you, before someone started shouting they could see the ship. It was then that everyone’s voices started to get a bit louder, and there was an energy surrounding everyone that had your heart pounding in your chest.

What felt like three hours later, there was a chorus of cheers when the first group of men and women came off of the aircraft carrier. You could barely see over the group in front of you, and you decided to climb up one of the small fences, holding on tight and straining your eyes as you searched each and every face.

“Mrs. Bradshaw!,” a voice boomed from about thirty feet in front of you. “Get your ass down from there and come kiss your husband!”

“Bradley!,” you practically screamed, jumping down and sprinting through the throngs of people before you slammed against Rooster’s chest, lunging up and kissing him roughly.

“You’re okay,” you whispered, kissing him over and over, tasting the salt from the ocean on his skin.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much, baby,” he breathed out, as if he’d been holding his breath ever since the morning he left you.

“God, I fucking missed you,” you agreed, finally opening your eyes to see his face covered in scrapes that looked as if they were beginning to scab over.

“What–?”

“Hey,” he stopped you quickly, taking both of your hands in his and kissing your knuckles lovingly. “It’s okay. I’m fine. They’re just some scratches,” he assured you, leaning in for one more kiss before he was pulling back and looking around.

“Wait here,” he said suddenly, taking off towards his left, and you simply just blinked. Because you just knew your husband hadn’t run off only minutes after being reunited with the love of his life–right?

“Honey,” you heard his voice from over your shoulder, and you turned around only to be face to face with none other than Captain Pete Mitchell.

“Mav, this is my wife, Y/N. Y/N this is Maverick–he saved my life up there,” Rooster said proudly, and you felt a wave of emotion crash over you.

“Pete Mitchell, ma’am. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Maverick stuck out his hand, and instead of returning his hand shake, you threw your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and after a few moments, you felt his arms tighten around your middle.

“There’s no need. In fact, don’t let him give me all the credit. Your husband saved my ass out there a couple of times. I wouldn’t have made it home without him,” he said firmly as you pulled back, and you couldn’t help but smile proudly at the wonderful man you married.

“Of course he did. That’s Rooster,” you grinned, reaching out to take his hand, and your lover just kissed the back of your hand. You turned back to look at Maverick, and you caught the tail end of a smile he was giving Rooster, one that mirrored the image of a proud father.

“I’ll let you kids go. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he laughed softly, clapping Rooster on the shoulder. “I’ll see you before you go, yeah?”.

“You will,” you interjected, your arm wrapped around Rooster’s waist and giving it a soft squeeze. “We’ll go out for dinner tomorrow, how’s that sound?”.

Plans were quickly made, and you even managed to exchange numbers with Maverick before you and Bradley were in his Bronco, tearing back off towards town and your hotel. You didn’t think you’d ever run so fast into a hotel lobby, but before you could even catch your breath, Rooster was kissing your neck in the elevator, one hand sliding down the front of your shorts, and the other moving up your t-shirt and squeezing your right breast.

“Bradley!,” you squealed, but a moan quickly left your lips when his thumb brushed over your nipple at the same time the pad of his middle finger rubbed lightly at your clit. “Someone could see.”

“Let ‘em,” he growled, working on leaving a mark under your left earlobe as he lazily began to grind against your hip. “This whole hotel’s gonna know how much Bradley Bradshaw missed his wife.”

The automated voice in the elevator announced your floor just as the doors opened, and the two of you managed to stumble your way into the hotel room. Shirts and pants were being flung in all directions, and you think your panties might have landed somewhere in the kitchenette, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Because at that moment, the love of your life was kissing down your body, placing your thighs on his shoulders and diving straight into your slick cunt.

“Fuck!,” you cried out, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you began to grind down against his mouth, every nerve ending in your body on fire. Rooster’s tongue was sliding expertly between your folds, licking up every bit of wetness before he would suck quickly and harshly at your clit, switching back and forth until you were a panting, gasping mess for him.

“Bradley,” you whined, hips rolling constantly, trying to draw yourself closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” he purred, biting softly at your inner thigh before he immediately slid two fingers inside of you, causing you to swear loudly. “Want you to come for me, honey. Want you to come on my fingers before I put my cock in you. Can you do that for me? Can you come for me, princess?”

He had barely finished his last sentence, fingers drilling against your sweet spot, before you were screaming his name and clamping down around his thick digits. Your body shook with each pulse of your orgasm, hips continuing to roll as you rode out your high, your free hand lazily rubbing at your breasts while you enjoyed your euphoric experience.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, peppering your hips and lower stomach with light kisses before he pulled his fingers out slowly, crawling back up your body. He kept one of your legs up by his shoulder, and he stroked himself twice before sliding his achingly hard cock into your soaked pussy, groaning once he was fully seated inside of you.

One heel was digging into the small of Bradley’s back, the other into his shoulder as he practically split you in two, your sensitive cunt almost pulling him deeper inside of you. His hips began to piston against yours quickly, and you could tell that he wouldn’t last long. He’d been waiting for this. Waiting for you.

“I fucking love you,” he panted, your foreheads pressed together and lips barely touching. “I love you so much. Thought about you every day. Wanted to be back with you, to be back in this pretty pussy.”

As he spoke, his hand slid down once again to start rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, and you squirmed under his touch immediately.

“Missed you,” you whimpered out, and at your words, Bradley was connecting your lips once more, kissing you with every ounce of love and affection he had flowing through his veins for you.

As the minutes passed, your pleasure grew and grew, until you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm, feeling your skin practically sizzle with every bead of sweat that dropped onto your skin from your husband.

“B-Bradley,” you gasped out, trying to hold out just a little bit longer.

“I know, honey. I’m close, too. You gonna come again for me? Gonna let me fill you up? Give you everything I’ve got?,” he practically growled, and you just nodded your head furiously, your hands settled on the back of his neck, keeping him close.

“Use your words for me, princess. Tell me you’re close. Tell me you’re gonna come on my cock,” he demanded, hips faltering just slightly as he neared his own orgasm.

“M’gonna come, baby. Gonna–,” you stopped, a mewl ripped from your lips as that wave of pleasure crashed over you once again, and you were clamping around his cock like a vice.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck–,” he gasped, and within a handful of thrusts, he was spilling inside of you, leaning down to kiss you messily through your shared orgasms, his hips slowing to a stop and he just stayed inside of you for a moment, the two of you attempting to catch your breath.

“You really did miss me,” you teased after a few minutes of the two of you just lazily kissing, and Rooster chuckled softly, nuzzling your noses together.

Within minutes, the two of you were cleaned up and back in bed, your naked bodies tangled together under the sheets and you let your fingers dance lightly over his scrapes, pressing a feather-light kiss to each one once you inspected it. You noticed that Rooster was struggling to keep his eyes open, and so you pressed a final kiss to his lips, brushing his sweat-matted hair off of his forehead.

“Get some rest, Lieutenant Bradshaw. You’ve earned it,” you whispered, laying down with your head on his chest, letting his heartbeat remind you he was home. He was alive. He was okay.

“Thank you,” was all he said, and you found it funny how two little words could be worth more than an epistle about his love for you, how thankful he was for you, how he’d never be able to repay you for the past two weeks.

“Anything for you, you big stud,” you teased, closing your eyes and feeling him giving you a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll keep ya to that in the mornin’,” he yawned, and within seconds his familiar snores filled the small bedroom, and you fell asleep with a smile on your lips.

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honeytae · 3 years

Text

I didn’t know you had a thing for bandanas.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIV! omg how do i even start...you’re not only one of my favorite people on this site but literally one of my favorite souls on this earth. you radiate warmth, wit, and yes...thottery :) so of course i had to write some grammys tae smut for you, right? of course i did. i love you so much, i hope you have a fabulous day and i’m sending you so so many hugs! happiest of birthdays to you @taetaespeaches, my sister wife, my twin flame, the best honey boy min enthusiast, my favorite wholesome thot! i love you i love you i love you <3

genre: smut (ofc)

warnings: GRAMMYS TAEHYUNG, suggestive texting mentions, tae’s a Tease™️, heavy petting and groping, grinding/dry humping, fingering, brief nipple play, there’s a handjob or two, unprotected sex (stay safe!), mild dirty talk and profanity, this is pretty much just filth i do apologize

word count: 2.7k

“Oh my god.”

Huffing, you tossed your phone back onto the counter, staring back at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, lips parted in disbelief. You could not believe Taehyung, truly. He could be a tease, of course, but tonight he was on another level.

The number of photos, that could only be described as none other than thirst traps, you’d been sent throughout the night was dizzying.

Spanning from the time he was getting ready for the Grammy’s red carpet to when he was backstage in that goddamn bandana for the Old Town Road performance, you’d already stashed them in a hidden folder, pulling them back up on your screen whenever your brain drifted to them again. Which, admittedly, had been a lot over the past few hours.

Despite traveling overseas for the award ceremony together, you could not attend the show with him for obvious reasons. Truly, you didn’t mind. You weren’t about the glitz and glamour anyway; but fuck, he really wasn’t making it easy on you.

In addition to the multiple professionally taken shots of your boyfriend at the show beginning to circulate, your texting conversation with him consisted of only attachment after attachment at this point, eyes practically bulging out of your head with each scroll of your thumb and hooking you in for more in his absence from your hotel room.

And that had been your only activity for the night until you decided to part from the television and get ready for bed.

Groaning when your phone began buzzing repeatedly on the marble, you set the washcloth you’d been running over your face atop the surface, peeking at the screen and rolling your eyes when you saw your boyfriend’s name across the top of it.

Swiping your thumb across the flashing display, you lifted the phone to your ear, leaning your stomach against the counter as you mumbled a greeting.

“Hey, why didn’t you respond?” He asked immediately, making you chuckle at his bluntness.

“I’m still processing the information you’ve provided me with, Tae.” You responded, hearing the man’s deep chuckle reverberate through the device.

“What information is that, love?”

You could hear the amused teasing in his voice, smug grin prominent on his face as he awaited your reply.

“The endless shirtless selfies, Taehyung. That is the information I’m referencing.” You said, thinking back on the several attachments you’d gotten notifications for over the course of the night, each time Taehyung was changing his outfit followed by a photo of him nearly naked in the mirror backstage.

“I thought they were tasteful.” He teased, giggling when you groaned on the other side of the call.

“Biting your lip while gripping your bulge? Oh yeah, I’m sure Army’s would agree. Very tasteful.” You teased back, the man humming deeply.

“I don’t share those things with Army though, because those are for you only.” He smirked, you mirroring his hummed reply with a slight smile.

“When are you coming back?” You asked, tapping your fingernails against the surface beside the basin of the sink.

“We need to do one more interview, then we can leave.” He answered, a member of the staff speaking in the background followed by Hoseok’s laugh ringing out through the room.

You sighed in response, quiet enough that you thought he wouldn’t hear it. That thought was proven wrong almost immediately as he chuckled, the phone shuffling in his grip as the voices in the background turned to muffled noise.

“What’s wrong, hm? Miss me?” He lowered his voice to presumably not be heard by others, his husky tone causing you to swallow a harsh gulp, thankful you weren’t video calling so you could play along with his little game.

“Mm, not particularly. I just wanted to play GTA with Kook.” You teased, smirking at Taehyung’s scoff, hairs raising on your arms as he chuckled into the phone and through your speaker.

“Alright. Well, you can expect Kook soon.” He said, tone smug as he heard the breath hitch in your throat.

“Love you.” He murmured into the phone before abruptly hanging up, leaving you clutching your phone with a racing heart as you anticipated your boyfriends’ arrival.

Trying to fight the now strengthened desire for your man, you blocked out the images from tonight along with the tone of his deep honeyed voice through the phone the best you could, reaching for your soap pump with a sigh.

“Unbelievably rude.”

The silence of your room was awfully loud as you drew out the remaining steps of your skincare routine, hoping that if you took long enough then there would be less empty waiting time for your boyfriend. Your incredibly attractive boyfriend who you could not wait to get your hands on.

Your eyes continually darted to the timestamp on your lock screen, sighing each time as only a few minutes had passed since the last time you checked.

If Taehyung could see how desperate you were acting right now, he’d surely have that god damn smirk on his face, one that would probably have your jeans unbutton themselves beyond your own control.

Heaving another sigh, you distractedly stretched your neck from side to side, scrunching your face up in a grimace at the resulting snaps.

The closing of your eyes combined with the loud rush of water from the faucet seemed to drown out the sounds you’d eagerly been waiting for, nearly jumping out of your skin at the sudden addition of Taehyung next to you through the reflection of the mirror above the sink.

His hair was still styled over that black and white patterned bandana, matching with the shirt that exposed just a touch of his bicep and a whole lot of his chest.

Despite the immediate salivating of your tongue, you kept your shocked expression on your face, breathing out his name as you leaned a hand on the counter beside you.

“Fuck, you scared me.” You placed your other hand over your heart, Taehyung grinning before reaching his arm out to pull you into his chest, pressing a kiss to each cheek before leaning back to smile at you.

“Sorry, love. Ended up leaving a little earlier.” He explained, smirking as your eyes glued to the bandana still tucked under the hair over his forehead.

“Hm, I don’t mind.” You said, blowing a breath past your lips at the man’s appearance.

“What?” Taehyung asked in reference to the action, his eyes blinking back at you as your hand traced over his long hair curled to perfection.

“You look really fucking good right now. Not that I need to tell you that.” You mumbled distractedly, fixing the strip of fabric laying over the top of his forehead, Taehyung teasingly raising his eyebrows at you with a swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“No, please do.” He said smugly, causing you to snap out of your lust-struck daze as you tapped at his shoulder with a snort.

“What an ass.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” He responded, smoothly trailing his fingers down a bit lower to rest on your butt and gently grope the globes, pulling you flush to his chest as his darkened eyes held contact with yours.

“Can you ever get your head out of the gutter?” You tried to say, gasps escaping every few words as he began pushing your hips into his, effectively grinding his erection into you.

“Hm,” he pretended to ponder for a moment, “with you, no.” He said, placing his hand on your jaw to pull you into a long-awaited kiss, soft yet sensual in the way he smoothed his lips over yours.

Your breath caught in your throat as Taehyung’s hand slipped beneath the hem of your underwear, letting his thumb glide over your clit as his tongue invaded your mouth.

The action was needy, as was the manner his fingers gathered the slick leaking between your folds to push up to fill your hole. Taehyung swallowed your moans as his fingers played in your pussy, his deep chuckles vibrating against you while his fingers dutifully pumped into your entrance.

“Like that, baby?” He mumbled against your bottom lip, your mouth hanging open as you whined incoherently in response. He groaned at the spasming of your walls around his appendages, leaning his forehead against yours as he backed you up against the counter to stabilize your increasingly wobbly legs.

“God, you drive me crazy.” He grunted, rutting his hips into your thigh as you moaned his name once again.

Squealing as he suddenly withdrew his hands from your underwear and lifted you up on the counter by your hips, you watched with raised brows as the man ripped your pajama bottoms and panties down your legs, easily tossing them onto the tile floor and leaving your lower half bare on the cold marble counter beside the sink.

“Eager, are we?” You murmured, Taehyung smirking as he shuffled out of his pants, his boxers soon to follow as you took the liberty of removing his t-shirt from your torso.

“And you aren’t?” He posed, taking the shirt from your hands and tossing it somewhere below him in the mess of clothes piling up beside his feet. Tugging you by the thighs, he smiled as you helped him by scooting to the edge of the counter, wrapping your arms around his neck as his own hands landed on your lower back.

“I didn’t say that.” You said, fingers tousling the fluffy hair at the crown of his head as he hummed, playing around with the clasp of your bra until it released with a small sound, the cups immediately releasing your breasts as he pulled the straps down your arms.

“I consider it a good thing that we can’t keep our hands off each other.” He shrugged, gently prying your arms from around his neck to successfully remove the bra dangling from your wrists, pressing kisses to the pulse points of your wrists before laying them down in your lap as his hands instead landed on your breasts.

You sighed as his thumbs easily circled your nipples, his eyes glued to your chest as he watched the buds twist into peaks with a small grin.

“So pretty.” He whispered, making you blush as you distractedly reached for his dress shirt, snapping the buttons out of the holes in a haste to see his bare chest. The task proved to be difficult with Taehyung’s increasing pressure on your nipples, a knowing smirk on the man’s face as your pleading eyes desperately darted to his own.

“Tae, this shirt is really testing my patience.” You sighed, the man chuckling as he reluctantly removed his hands from your chest to assist you in unbuttoning the shirt that had nearly killed you while watching him perform a couple of hours ago.

As soon as he undid the fifth or sixth button down, your hands were on the revealed skin, feeling him like a madwoman as he lovingly chuckled at your actions. Tossing the loose material to the floor, he finally stood before you completely naked, placing a hand on the back of your head to guide you to his lips in yet another heated kiss.

Taehyung hummed deep in his throat as you reached down to pump his fully erect cock in your hand, taking the hint as you lined him up at your entrance with a push of your other hand on his shoulder.

“Love you so much.” He mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as he pushed his hips forward to sink into you, each inch providing you with a delicious burn as you let your head rest on his shoulder, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head as he finally fit himself snugly inside of you.

Starting off slow, he only slightly moved his cock back before pushing it in again, causing you to mewl as he started teasingly circling his hips inside of you. The grinding was nice, sure, but it gave you no real relief. Which he was perfectly aware of.

“Fuck me harder, Tae.” You whimpered out as he continued sensually grinding into you, taking your bottom lip into your mouth as he stopped his actions completely.

“Hm? What was that, love?” He cockily raised his brows at you, grinning at the look of pure frustration on your face.

“Fuck me harder. Taehyung.” You practically spat out, the man tutting at your tone.

“Where are your manners, love?”

“Tae,” you whined, “please just fuck me.” You begged, Taehyung simpering as he picked up your calves, resting your legs in the crooks of his elbows to push your knees to your chest and effectively spread you wider for him.

Picking up the pace of his thrusts, he groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing around his cock, praising you with a moan of your name as he tilted his head up toward the ceiling.

With you leaning forward to kiss his jaw, Taehyung broke eye contact with the vent in the ceiling, instead focusing on you as he continued rolling his hips into yours. His eyes held yours with intense force, only faltering with a flutter of his eyelids when your walls began spasming around him.

“Shit, I love your pussy, baby.” He breathed, placing his lips back on yours when you responded with a wanton moan, placing his hands on your hips to glide you along his length in addition to the force he pounded into you with.

You whimpered at the sudden speed in which his hips slapped into yours along with the depths he managed to hit with the angle, clutching onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself as he groaned your name.

“Fuck, oh my god.” You cried as he sped up the pace of his hips, gradually working himself up into an almost inhumane speed as he quite literally attempted to split you open with his cock. His grunts punctuated each thrust, hot breaths fanning out onto your neck as he buried his face in your skin.

“T-tae.” You stuttered as the tip of his cock repeatedly tapped at your cervix, Taehyung responding with a deep moan as he glanced down between your bodies, eyes glued to where you met over and over again as your walls tightened the hardest they had yet around him.

“Cum, baby.” He panted, lifting his eyes to watch your own squeeze shut with a gasp, the man himself falling over the edge at the sight. Nothing could ever get him off like watching you orgasm.

As he hastily pulled out of you, you whined at the sudden emptiness in your core, leaning your head back against the mirror in exhaustion as your droopy eyes watched him jerk his cock using your slick, only a few moments passing before translucent white liquid shot out from his tip and onto your stomach.

Sitting up from the mirror, you fell into Taehyung’s arms, the man chuckling a bit as he rubbed his palm over your spine.

“I love you.” He murmured, breaths finally evening out as he held you in his arms, your own loosely wrapped around his waist with your fingers caressing the skin of his hip.

“I love you too,” you leaned back to look at him, forehead pressing to his as you gave him a lazy smile, “and I’m so proud of you. You were amazing tonight.” You said, swiping his long bangs out of his eyes as he shyly grinned at you, his flustered reaction at your words causing you to giggle fondly.

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” He admitted, misty eyes making you cup his cheeks as you pressed your lips to the plush skin on either side of his nose.

“Of course you could have. You’re amazing Tae, don’t underestimate that.” You soothed, the man’s lips quirking up slightly as he tipped his chin to place his lips on yours.

“Okay.” He whispered against your bottom lip, chuckling breathily when you began pressing feather-light kisses to his lips, exaggerating them with loud “muah”s making Taehyung’s eyes shut as he laughed.

“You good?” You asked, his irises sparkling back at you as he nodded in confirmation.

“I’m great.” He said, reaching up to push his hair back off his forehead, the copious amounts of gel his stylists had put in his hair throughout the night defying the action and making it fall back onto the skin anyway.

“Good. Now clean your cum off my stomach, I wanna go to bed.”

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts member x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #kim taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung imagines #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #writing struggles #fanfiction #x reader #smut

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letarasstuff · 4 years

Text

You are not gonna meet them

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you all enjoy it :)

Summary: How will their beloved intern react, when the BAU is able to profile that she is seeing someone?

Warnings: One swear word (for the sake of a vine reference)

Wordcount: 1.2k

✨Masterlist✨

__________________________________

“What is their name?” Confused (Y/N) takes her eyes off the cup of her favorite hot beverage. To make sure Derek really speaks to her, she turns around in the breakroom. It’s only the two of them. “Whose name? I’m (Y/N), but Derek I work here for two months already. Aren’t you a little too young to suffer from Alzheimer’s yet?”

He laughs into his own cup before taking a sip. “You are seeing someone. Don’t try to hide that from a bunch of profilers, there is no use in that.”

Being the ever stoic and mature teenager, she sticks her tongue out. “I’m not hiding anything. I’m the CEO of being an open book. But spill your tea about your deductions, Sherlock.”

“As you wish, Watson. You are wearing tinted lip balm instead of your usual clear lip balm. I saw you reapplying it after you dropped off some files in Hotch’s office. Also you have a new hairstyle, which looks quite nice on you. In addition to that you wear a bottom up and I saw you wearing one only once and that was when you had to dress up for an undercover thing. Therefore I come to the conclusion that this is your definition of dressing up and I see no reason for it except you want to impress someone and I know for a fact that everybody in this building is too old for you. So, what’s their name?”

“Whatever”, (Y/N) breathes under her breath and makes an effort to escape this interrogation. But Spencer, who also decided it’s time for the trillions refill of his cup of sugar with a drop of coffee, stands in the doorway. “Spencer, can you please step aside? I have work to do”, she asks him sighing. But the genius doesn’t bulge.

(Y/N) looks dumbfounded at her coworker and friend. “I- that was pretty good. But you haven’t considered that I may have a meeting with our dear Section Chief regarding my future in the FBI.” At the end she smiles, thinking she has won this round. “I did”, Morgan answers, wiping the grin from her face, “ and I know again for a fact that this meeting is next week, because Hotch is seeing her today to talk about that subject. So, what are they like?”

“Oh, does our favorite intern have a love interest? (Y/N), why didn’t you tell me anything?” Emily asks as she enters the breakroom. “No, I don-” “Princess, I told you it isn’t possible to lie to us. We are basically human lie detectors.”

“I heard tea and I want you to spill it.” He says, proud to put the phrase she taught him a while ago in the right context. “There is not tea, just a lame glass of water”, (Y/N) responds and squeezes past him. The three profilers look at each other in confusion. Attracted by her confounding statement, they follow her to her desk.

“Why are you stalking the child?” Rossi asks with Hotch hot on his heels. “(Y/N) is seeing someone, but isn’t willing to tell us anything about them. Now we try to pry every bit of information from her”, Spencer explains.

The talked about subject sits at her desk, acting like nothing just occurred while going through some reports. “Are you talking about her crush?” JJ joins the group observation. Everybody looks at her in shock. “What do you know about this?” Derek may be a bit overprotective over his favorite princess.

“Probably not more than you. I just saw her smiling down at her phone and I didn’t spot a cute dog or cat picture so I figured it has to be an important someone”, JJ explains whilst shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t like this guessing. Why don’t we just ask her?” Rossi is up and goes to (Y/N), the calls of his team members falling on deaf ears.

As the teenager hears the oncoming footsteps, she lifts her head and spies the older Italian. “Not you, too.” A groan leaves her lips while rubbing her forehead in distress. “Bambi, think of it as that: The earlier you confess to your lies, the earlier your conscience is lifted. So tell us about them, will you?”

The rest of the team inches closer to the duo, while (Y/N) contemplates her choices. “Well that is interesting. But what’s also interesting is: I don’t give a shit” Confused by her unusual speech pattern, Rossi throws a pointy glance towards her.

“Fine”, she once again sighs, knowing there is no other way to escape this situation. Not even the teenager’s sarcasm or pop culture can help her anymore.

Eagerly the team crowds around her desk, even Hotch is ready to get some good tea served. “I met them on the bus. Since I started here we rode the same bus every morning and afternoon. Their hair was the first thing I noticed about them. After a month I worked up the courage to talk to them.”

“And?” Morgan asks as (Y/N) doesn’t continue for several minutes. “I chickened out. No cap. But they chatted me up the next day and we are texting each other for several weeks now and we maybe have kind of our first date tomorrow and see each other for the last time today before the date and I want to leave a lasting impression maybe?” At the end she turns red. Like legit red, with tomato ears and stuff.

A loud squeal is heard. “OMG (Y/N) THIS IS SO CUTE I LITERALLY AM DEAD! OUR BABY IS FEELING LOOOOOVE! CLAP THOSE CHEEKS!” Although it seems impossible, she turns even redder at Penelope’s outburst.

“Ok, princess. I’m happy for you, but we need to meet them before you go with them anywhere. How old are they? What do they do for a living? What is their name? Garcia needs to make a background check”, Derek swivels her chair in his direction, looking the girl straight in the eye to make sure he is dead serious.

“Do they read? Emilia Clarke once said to never trust anybody, whose TV is bigger than their bookshelf, and I recommend you to follow that advice”, Spencer adds. “Can we help get you ready? I wanted to do a makeover for you for ages already”, Penelope throws in. JJ and Emily nod at that, showing that they too want to participate in this.

“Are you sure they are not basic, Bambi?” “Oh, Rossi. Never say that again. You are not allowed to talk like ever. Yes, I’m sure they got a cake and an even bigger heart. Before you also say anything complete out of line, Hotch: You all aren’t allowed to see them before I’m completely sure. Period. No complains.”

It’s safe to say that Aaron just needs to flash his doe eyes to convince (Y/N) that they indeed will meet their date before they go out together. I mean, who is better at delivering The Talk to a date than a bunch of (intimidating) profilers and a (even more intimidating) tech goddess?

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

#bau x reader #bau x teen!reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader #david rossi x teen!reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #penelope garcia x teen!reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

**************************************

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

****************************************

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian teacher x you #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x smut

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

Text

The Lion of House Dimitrescu

Summary: During a meeting with Mother Miranda & the other lords, Alcina learns of a strange captive in her brother's care - he has the body of a human but humans don't have horns nor ears & tails that resemble lions. Just what is he and what is Alcina's interest in him?

Pairing: Lady Alcina Dimitrescu x Male Lion Demon (Leo)

Leul meu - My Lion

Cereți și voi livra, Doamna mea - Ask and I shall deliver, My Lady

"I'm telling you, Mother Miranda - we have to get rid of him. He's costing me Lycans." The voice of that fool - Heisenberg - was the first thing Alcina heard as she made it to the Meeting Grounds and took her seat; all the other lords were present, as well as their matriarch/mother - Mother Miranda.

"What has he done now, Heisenberg?" Mother Miranda asked as she looked in Fourth Lord's direction.

"Just last night - that creature slaughter another 5 of my Lycans without even moving for where he stood; with a flick of his claw, he tore open their bellies like scissors through ribbons. I can't keep hold him - not like I'm really holding him, to begin with; he can easily break out of his bindings but he just choices not to because 'it's not worth his time.'." Heisenberg said as he leaned back into his chair with a tired exhale.

"Sounds like someone is giving you a run for your coin, Karl." Angie chuckled as she clapped from her position on Donna's Lap, Heisenberg snarled at the doll as he forced his hammer into his hand.

"Keep that damn doll quiet, Donna, or I'll turn it into a porcelain pile!" He growled.

"Meanie!" Angie squealed as she scooched closer to Donna.

"Silence!" Mother Miranda echoed out as she threw her hands up and her 6 wings fanned out - silencing the siblings. "Now - we shall discuss like adults what shall do about this creature; it's not something you would see every day and thus it will not be killed." Mother Miranda began before Karl interrupted her.

"With all due respect, Mother Miranda, it's not that we 'shouldn't' kill - it's that we 'can't' kill it. I sent a fuck-ton of metal through its chest before it fell, only to revive itself." Karl said as he looked at his mother.

"Mother Miranda - what is this 'creature' that you and Heisenberg keep referring to?" Alcina said as she took one long swing from her cigarette before resting the hand that held it on her armrest.

"Heisenberg has come in possession of a creature - it looked like a mortal man so he sent his lycans after it but it easy cut them all down. Once Heisenberg managed to capture it - it was revealed that this creature wasn't mortal at all; it possessed the ears and tail of a lion, as well as the fangs, claws, and power of one." Mother Miranda explained.

"And the horns - don't forget the fucking horns." Karl said as he exhaled again.

"If this creature is so strong - then how was Heisenberg able to capture it?" Alcina asked.

"The fucker allowed itself to get caught - when I asked it, it told me 'wasting my strength on your pathetic brood isn't worth it. I'll go with you and see just what you can offer me.' - then it followed me back to the factory and it stayed there...until it got bored or my lycans got ballsy and got their asses killed." Karl explained.

"Where is the creature now? At your deathtrap of a factory?" Alcina asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No - I brought the fucking monster here. Like I said - I'm not taking it back with me; I lost more than 25% of my lycans dealing with that fucking thing." Karl said with a hiss.

"Now that you are all caught up - we need to decide what we can do with the creature. Heisenberg refuses to house it any longer - which is understandable."

"Thank you, Mother Miranda." Karl took an exhale of relief.

"Donna has always backed out of housing the creature in fear of it breaking her dolls. That would leave Moreau and Alcina. Out of the two of them - I think would be best if Alcina housed the creature." Mother Miranda said.

"You would wish a beast to roam in my castle?" Alcina asked.

"As Heisenberg stated before - it is well behaved. It acts mortal but with far more strength and a few unseen abilities." Mother Miranda said.

"As much as I hate to admit it - the damn thing knows how to cook and damn good too. If it wasn't so damn destructive, I would have kept it for the food." Karl said.

"Is that so? Well - I was looking for a new cooking staff. If this is what you wish, Mother Miranda - I shall house the creature." Alcina said.

"Perfect. Heisenberg - collect the creature and bring it here." Miranda ordered as she pointed down the hall where the creature was being held. Heisenberg groaned as he rose from his seat and grabbed his hammer and disappeared down the hall.

Everyone waited and watched the hall until they heard a few things: the sounds of chains rattling, then the sound of Heisenberg yelling 'Get your fucking hands off me!'...then they watched as Heisenberg came flying out the shadows and crashed into the pue he was sitting on; laying there, groaning in pain.

All these were on the shadows and they widened as another figure came out of the shadows: He was built with muscles as if he was sculpted - his skin was like light bronze, riddled with scars and wounds that healed up over time - his eyes were dark blue, deeper than a raw sapphire - his hair was short, didn't even go past his hairline but it was free all over his head. True to Heisenberg's word: There were lion ears that matched his hair color perched atop his head, as well as a tail of the same color that swayed by his ankles; what's more on his hair line were two black goat-like horns where the tips pointed in the direction of the back of his head. And if that wasn't enough, he was tall.

By tall - they meant giant.

And by giant - they meant HE WAS THE SAME HEIGHT AS ALCINA!!!

The giant wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes but he was wearing dark grey baggy pants made of cloth that were tied around his waist with a cloth belt, tied at his side. His hands here bound before him as he glared down at the groaning Fourth Lord.

"I've warned you thrice, Heisenberg, and you didn't heed my warnings. I told you not to grab my tail to try to make me move at your desired pace." The stranger growled as his long lion swayed at his heels.

"That doesn't mean you throw me like trash, you damn freak!" Karl yelled as he pushed himself off the ground.

"If you didn't want to be treated like trash, then don't behave like trash." The man rolled his eyes as he looked at Miranda and the other lords - the massive man bowed his head with his eyes closed.

"Please do forgive me for destroying your stuff, Madam Miranda; but I refuse to act like an animal." The stranger said - respect dripping for each of his words.

"You...You are excused this first time but only this time - do not let it happen again." Miranda said as she collected her composer.

"Of course. I was informed you decided on my fate." the man said.

"Yes." Miranda began as she gestured her hand in Alcina's direction - making the First Lord stand. "This is Lady Alcina Dimitrescu - Lord of the Castle Dimitrescu. She will be your new keeper; I expect you to treat her with respect and listen to her words." Miranda said as Alcina walked up to the man who could stand up to her - literally.

"So - you are the one who has been giving that fool such a hard time. You're not exactly what I imagined." Alcina said as she waved her cigarette in his direction - he was not affected by the smoke.

"If you don't mind me asking - just what were you expecting, Lady Dimitrescu? I pray you weren't expecting a grotesque, uncontrollable monster." The man said with a raised eyebrow.

"In a way, Leul meu. But I am happy to announce you are better looking than I thought. I wonder what else you are capable of." Alcina said with a smile.

"Well." He smirked as he grabbed Alcina's other hand gently with his bound hands and brought them to his lips. "Cereți și voi livra, Doamna mea." He placed a gentle but burning kiss on Alcina's knuckles. The two of them smiled like cats who just devoured canaries as they looked into each others' eyes.

"What name do you go by?" Alcina asked with a purr.

"My name is Leo, My Lady." He purred back and kissed her knuckles again.

#resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x oc #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x male oc

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aomine-ryo · 4 years

Note

Your last ask was seriously funny! We need more of that. If possible, can I request different scenrios where the s/o of the gom gets asked questions by the s/o of their boyfriend's teammate(s) about their night (because reader has a looot of love marks).... this is so freaking specific, im sorry😂😂 if you cant do it it fine, if you do, then i appreciate you and your writings (i love your blog and im also a simp for Aomine)

Aren’t we all a simp for Aomine 😭💕 I really couldn’t think of anything for Midorima and Murasakibara without it being too repetitive and boring so I unfortunately left them out of this one, so I’m sorry and I hope you don’t mind too much!! xx

Scenario: Kuroko, Kise, Aomine and Akashi’s s/o being questioned about their love marks

Kuroko

It was a rather chilly Wednesday afternoon and you were watching Seirin’s practice as you usually would. While you initially came there to watch your boyfriend play, you actually also ended up becoming quite close with Kagami, Izuki and Mitobe’s significant others who also came to watch quite often.

As you watched over the practice while chatting away with your friends, you began to feel rather warm due to the gym’s heating, so you took off the scarf that you’d wrapped around your neck. Not thinking too much of it, you continued with your conversation, only to notice that your friends had their eyes fixated on your neck. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?” you questioned, trying to decipher the strange smirks and nods they shared with each other.

“Y/N, your neck...” Mitobe’s s/o trailed off, getting caught up in giggles before they could finish.

“What? Is there something on my neck?” you asked, beginning to panic as your hand immediately reached for it in the fear that there was a bug on it.

“I’m guessing you and Kuroko had some fun last night,” Kagami’s s/o giggled, causing you to freeze as you came to a realisation of what they were referring to.

You quickly wrapped the scarf around your neck again to conceal the red marks your boyfriend had left the night before. Filled with embarrassment, your averted your gaze and fixated on the boys’ practice to avoid making eye contact with your friends. Of course, they didn’t let you off the hook that easily.

“I didn’t think Kuroko was the type to leave marks, but damn he really went to town on your neck, huh Y/N?” Kagami’s s/o teased, making your face turn red with embarrassment.

“Shut up,” you grumbled, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“So, was yesterday a special night? Or does he always leave marks like those?” Mitobe’s s/o interrogated.

“It’s always the quiet ones...”

“Oh my God, stop,” you said, unable to hold back the giggles from the ridiculousness of their comments. “It was just a normal night okay?”

The two of them shared a look before hooting a long “oooooh,” making you wish you didn’t say anything at all.

“So it’s a normal thing then?” Kagami’s s/o continued, the grins on their faces growing wider and wider.

“I’m gonna pretend like I can’t hear you,” you said finally, looking everywhere but at them. You didn’t lie when you said that though. They kept teasing you, but you just sat there as though they weren’t talking to you.

Eventually, they got tired of it, but they didn’t hesitate to shoot you knowing glares when practice ended and you hurried over to Kuroko to escape them.

“Is everything okay?” Kuroko asked you, when he noticed how much of a hurry you were in to leave.

“Yeah, they just saw the marks from last night,” you informed him, making him blush at the memory of the previous night’s events. “So can we just leave before they come here and embarrass me even more?”

Not wanting to draw any attention to himself, Kuroko agreed with you after letting out a small chuckle. “Sorry about that, Y/N,” he said sincerely, not knowing how he’d respond to remarks if he were in your position.

You gave his hand a tight squeeze and flashed him a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, I’ll let it slide because last night was really fun,” you beamed, causing his face to flush red before the two of you left the gym after exchanging brisk goodbyes with the team.

Kise

It was just another practice day at Kaijo where you were casually chatting with your friends. They weren’t normally people you would hang out with, but you’d gotten quite close during these practices since they were the significant others of your boyfriend, Kise’s teammates. Whilst you considered them friends, they weren’t exactly close enough where you’d feel comfortable sharing personal details about your relationship, so you would often stick to light hearted stuff— which you quite enjoyed because they always gave you a good laugh.

“Y/N, is this the first time you’re wearing a scarf?” Moriyama’s s/o asked you, eyeing the bright blue scarf that Kise lent you this morning.

“Yeah, it is,” you nodded.

“I can tell. It’s really not your usual style— it’s not even wrapped properly,” they continued, giving you a pitiful chuckle as Kasamatsu’s s/o bobbed their head in agreement.

“Yeah, I know. I was trying something new, but I’m not sure I like it,” you sighed, fiddling with the end of it. To be honest, you didn’t even want to wear it. It was only there to cover up the bright red marks Kise left all over your neck the night before. You wanted to cover it up with makeup, but you remembered that morning that you needed to buy a new bottle of foundation because Kise accidentally knocked your old one over while playing around with you and broke it.

“Here let me wrap it properly for you,” Kasamatsu’s s/o offered, shuffling closer to you and taking your scarf off before you had time to protest.

And just like that, you were left bare-necked, with both of their eyes glued onto you in shock as your face flushed red. You immediately snatched the scarf back and wrapped it back out of embarrassment.

“Oh my God Y/N! Your neck was covered in hickeys!” Moriyama’s s/o squealed, making you want to dash out of there.

“So you and Kise got it on last night huh? Go on, give us the details!” Kasamatsu’s s/o urged excitedly as they nudged your shoulder with their elbow.

“Details? It was nothing,” you said nervously, desperately searching your head for a way to change the topic.

“Nothing? Y/N, those marks were plastered all across your neck! He barely left any spots untouched,” Moriyama’s s/o laughed.

“Well, what do you want me to say? We were just messing around,” you shrugged. “Can we please move on—“

“Hey guys,” Kise chimed in, cutting you off with a kiss on your cheek. You looked around in confusion and realised that he was on his water break and began to prepare yourself for what’s to come. “What’re you talking about?”

“Well, Y/N was just showing us those marks on their neck—“

“I wasn’t showing them to you! You saw them against my will,” you corrected as you buried your face in your hands.

“Shhh, seems like you two had fun last night,” Kasamatsu’s s/o giggled.

“Oh those! I kind of got carried away, didn’t I? Sorry, Y/N-cchi,” Kise said sweetly as he wrapped his arms around you apologetically.

“We were trying to get Y/N to spill some details but they’re too embarrassed,” Kasamatsu’s s/o said as you continued to pray that this hell of a conversation would end. You hated how charismatic Kise was sometimes, because it often ended with him slipping into conversations like this so easily and just fuelling the fire.

“Embarrassed? Y/N-cchi, you don’t need to be embarrassed. I left those marks there for a reason— you should be proud of them!” Kise sang as your friends nodded along, a smug look on both of their faces.

“Ryouta please stop,” you whined as he only hugged you tighter.

“But those marks look nice on—“

“Captain! Hasn’t this water break gone on long enough?” You called out to Kasamatsu all of a sudden.

“Oi Kise, get your ass back on the court!” Kasamatsu yelled back in reply, causing Kise to sigh.

“Why’d you do that?” Kise pouted.

“Because I like watching you practice,” you said innocently. “You’re playing a game now aren’t you? Why don’t you go score a cool dunk for me?”

Just like that, Kise immediately lit up. “I’ll score the best dunk you’ve ever seen!” He said cheerily before turning back to your friends. “Take it easy on Y/N-cchi, it’s my fault after all.”

“Yeah yeah, we’re just joking around for the fun of it. It’s not funny if it goes on for too long anyways,” Moriyama’s s/o replied reassuringly.

“Great. Thanks,” Kise grinned. Just as you thought he was going to leave, he suddenly leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “You know, those marks on your neck really do look pretty— I might just make some more later.”

And like it was nothing, Kise strutted off confidently, leaving you with a face that couldn’t be more flustered even if you tried.

Aomine

It wasn’t unusual for you to have marks all over your neck since everyone had already gotten used to it. The first few times the team and their significant others noticed them, there were a lot of questions and reactions, though they were mainly directed at Aomine so you didn’t mind all too much. Of course, you’d still try to hide them as much as you could, but makeup is expensive and to be spending so much on concealing marks that would just appear again within a week or so seemed quite redundant to you. You also tried to tell Aomine to limit the marks to places that clothes could cover, and while he’d agree beforehand, he’d often end up getting carried away and doing what he wants.

It was the day of an important preliminary match for Touou and you met up with the significant others of Wakamatsu and Imayoshi at the stands of the arena after wishing your boyfriend good luck. Upon greeting them, their eyes were immediately directed to your neck— which you expected. You tried covering the marks up with makeup but they were still quite visible. Furthermore, it was the summer so a scarf or turtleneck was not an option— you weren’t going to suffer for something this trivial.

“Y/N, did you even try to cover that up?” Wakamatsu’s s/o asked with a sigh.

“I did! I think I need to get some better foundation, honestly,” you groaned as you took a seat next to them.

“My God, that Aomine really doesn’t quit huh? Even before a big game?” Imayoshi’s s/o asked.

“Somehow he’s even more riled up before games. I really don’t know how he has the energy,” you sighed.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” Imayoshi’s s/o said with a smirk.

“Well, of course I like it. Just let me complain, will you?” you joked.

“Haven’t you tried telling him to take it easy with the marks?” Wakamatsu’s s/o questioned.

“I have— many times. But he never listens.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’d ever really listen to things like that,” Imayoshi’s s/o said.

“That’s just Daiki for you,” you shrugged.

“Well, was last night fun?” Wakamatsu’s s/o asked suggestively, nudging your arm.

“Yeah it was,” you said, beginning to feel slightly flustered as your mind wandered back to moments from the night before.

“Oooh, go on, give us the details,” Imayoshi’s s/o said excitedly.

“No way. That’s only for me to know,” you said firmly. “Besides, I’m way too tired to be going into details anyway,” you added as you let out an exhausted yawn.

“My God, how long were you up till?” Wakamatsu’s s/o asked.

“I don’t even remember— I think it was 2 a.m.?” you guessed, cursing Aomine and his stamina for keeping you up so late.

“Don’t you think he’d be too tired to play today then?” Wakamatsu’s s/o asked.

“He’s an idiot, but he wouldn’t be up so late unless he knew he could handle it,” you replied.

The topic quickly died out once the game began, and all of you were so consumed with it that all of you’d completely forgotten about the marks. And of course, Touou won with a massive lead— with Aomine scoring almost half of the points. He truly was incredible, you thought.

Akashi

You were often very good at hiding marks left behind by Akashi, but there was this one morning where you were in such a rush that you had no time to cover them up. So as you headed to the gym to watch Akashi’s practice like you usually would, he seemed to notice the red spots on your neck. As a smile spread across his face, he took his jacket off and handed it to you.

“Sorry for rushing you so much; I don’t like being late. Here, wear this so you can cover those up for the most part,” he said, eyeing your neck with a look that had no traces of regret whatsoever.

You took his jacket and zipped it all the way up so that it would cover your neck. “Shouldn’t you be apologising for leaving the marks instead?”

“I wouldn’t have left them if I thought I’d have to apologise for it. They look quite pretty on your neck if I’m being honest—I’m just saving you from being interrogated,” he explained coolly as you neared the gym.

“Well, I have a feeling that it’s gonna happen whether I like it or not.”

And just as you expected, when you got to the gym and met up with Mayuzumi, Hayama and Nebuya’s s/os, you were greeted with a few strange looks. “What’s up with the jacket, Y/N?” Mayuzumi’s s/o questioned.

“Oh, Sei gave it to me because I was feeling chilly,” you lied with a shrug.

“You don’t usually zip it up all the way though. It looks weird,” Hayama’s s/o pointed out. You didn’t realise that they were this observant until then.

“Y/N’s probably hiding something under there then,” Nebuya’s s/o said jokingly, almost as if they knew exactly what was going on but tried to pass it off as something humorous.

“What could I possibly be hiding?” you played along, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Nebuya’s s/o said suggestively, still clearly joking.

“Could it possibly be hickeys?” Mayuzumi’s s/o guessed, causing the group to break out into a chorus of hoots as you genuinely questioned whether they had psychic abilities.

“What? Why would you say that?” you laughed, still determined not to give it away.

“I want to say that I did some incredible detective work, but there are still marks poking out ever so slightly from your neck that gave it away,” Mayuzumi’s s/o explained, drawing all the attention towards your neck as the other two tried to spot it.

You let out a sigh, “Alright, you got me. I didn’t have time to cover them up this morning.”

“Let us see them!” Hayama’s s/o said a little too excitedly.

“Why do you need to see them?”

“It’s the prize for our investigative abilities,” Nebuya’s s/o said.

Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly unzipped the jacket, revealing the bright red and purple marks spread across your neck and earning a gasp from all three of them.

“Akashi really doesn’t hold back, does he?” Hayama’s s/o giggled.

“Sounds about right— it’s Akashi Seijuro we’re talking about after all,” Mayuzumi’s s/o commented.

“So, did you have fun last night, Y/N?” Nebuya’s s/o grinned.

“Well, yeah,” you mumbled, beginning to feel a little embarrassed as you zipped the jacket back up.

“There are a lot of marks though. Is he really that rough?” Mayuzumi’s s/o asked, a slight hint of concern in their voice.

“Kind of? I don’t know. It feels weird talking about it. But he has his moments,” you answered, not knowing how much you should be sharing with them.

“He just seems so cool and collected that I can’t believe he did that much damage, you know?” Nebuya’s s/o explained.

“Yeah I get what you mean,” Hayama’s s/o nodded along as all of their heads turned to take a look at Akashi, who was instructing his team about something.

“Can we please move on from this topic, it’s weird,” you said quickly, not liking that they were all probably thinking about Akashi in a whole different way now.

They were somehow quite understanding of your request and the conversation quickly moved on to a different subject matter so that whatever happened between you and Akashi remained between the two of you— and you hoped that it would stay that way.

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #kuroko no basket x reader #aomine daiki #kuroko tetsuya #kise ryouta #akashi seijuro #aomine daiki x reader #kise ryota x reader #akashi seijuro x reader #kuroko tetsuya x reader #knb #generation of miracles

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joeandtaylorfanfiction · 2 years

Text

Father's Day (Submission)

AN: hello! i just wanted to say that i have no clue how pregnancy works, but i tried to make this as accurate as possible. also, this was supposed to be posted on father’s day but i’m an idiot and can’t submit things. i was going to submit this normally, but would prefer to remain anonymous. regardless, please enjoy!

wednesday

When Taylor wakes up, she’s greeted by the nauseous feeling that’s been haunting her for a few days now. She’s no longer convinced that it’s a flu or food poisoning - no, this is something much bigger. Groaning as she rolls out of bed, careful not to wake her sleeping fiancé, she pads across the wooden floors of her and Joe’s bedroom. Grabbing her Eagles t-shirt off of the door, where it had been resting for the night, she tugs it on and kneels in front of the toilet.

When the nausea has stopped for the morning, she rummages through cabinets, searching for the small stick she had bought a few months back. At last, she finds it, setting a timer for three minutes and perching on the edge of the sink.

friday

‘Congratulations, Ms. Swift, you are, in fact, pregnant!’ the obstetrician, Este, gleefully informs her as she wipes the gel off of Taylor’s stomach.

‘It’s been - what - 15 years? Hell, we go out for dinner every Tuesday night. You can call me Taylor, you know.’

‘Well then, Taylor,’ she stresses, ‘you are pregnant.’ The blonde squeals, and Este chuckles at her child-like display of excitement. ‘Although, I am surprised that Joe didn’t come along for the appointment. I figured he’d want to be involved in these things?’

‘Actually… he doesn’t know yet,’ Taylor mumbles as she chews her lip. Seeing the doctor’s surprised face, she rushes to explain that she wasn’t worried about his reaction, she just hadn’t found the perfect way to tell him yet.

‘Well, I know he’ll be thrilled, if you were at all worried. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’

Blushing, Taylor thanks her friend, makes plans for next Tuesday’s dinner, and leaves the office grinning like a devil.

sunday (father’s day)

Joe wakes up to find Taylor nestled in his arms, still asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, he shuffles to where he can see the clock across the room - it reads 7:06 am. Taylor stirs, and he strokes her hair to lull her back to sleep, placing a quick kiss on her forehead, before drifting into unconsciousness once more.

When he wakes again, the clock reads 10:13, and his blue-eyed fiancée is staring into his eyes.

‘Good morning, my love,’ he rasps, leaning forward to peck her lips. She smiles at him before mumbling an ‘I love you’ into his forehead.

‘Happy Father’s Day, by the way,’ she beams, carefully watching Joe’s expression. He sits motionless, raising his eyebrows in confusion, then chuckles.

‘Taylor, my love, you scared me. I thought I forgot about our child for a second. I assume you’re referring to the cats, then?’

‘Well, I- you sure about that?’ He freezes then, smiling at her before uttering a rushed ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ she asks, reaching across her nightstand for her purse. She pulls out a small envelope, telling Joe to open it and rolling her eyes when he gives her a blank stare in return.

’Taylor, love,’ he trails off, his teary eyes meeting hers.

‘Are you happy?’ she laughs, her tears beginning to make their way down her face.

‘I am. I really, really am. I love you so much, Tay.’

They smile at each other for what seems like hours, both of them soaking up the moment. Almost instinctively, Joe’s arms protectively wrap around Taylor’s stomach as he strokes her invisible baby bump with his thumb.

‘I love both of you so, so much.’

#taylor and joe fanfiction #taylor swift + joe alwyn #one shot #submission #taylor swift #joe alwyn #taylor swift fanfiction #anon #pregnancy #tw: pregnancy

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remuscore · 4 years

Text

Slumber Party

Original idea from here

Summary: Janus doesn’t cuddle. Well, maybe a little...

Warnings: None. Maybe some suggestive stuff, but it’s Remus so.

Taglist: @hannahdra-ws @royalty-of-all-things-snuggly

Janus was invited to movie night with the light sides again. He was thrilled of course. The third movie night he’s been invited to with everyone and Thomas.

Well, almost everyone.

Remus still wasn’t getting invited.

Janus always missed Remus during these nights. No one made dark jokes, no one picked movies that made Janus jump and grimace, no one wrapped him in their arms around him and kept him comfortably warm against an uncomfortably naked body.

However, they have tried their best.

Not naked thankfully, but Patton sure did try bringing him into the big, movie night, cuddle pile they have. Janus just sat by the end of the couch as everyone sat together, even Logan participated in the big cuddle pile by sitting beside Virgil on the end.

But this time, Janus decided it would be different. He’ll be bringing Remus with.

When he told his plan to his beloved little monster his plan, he was singing with excitement. Literally. He sang a whole little ditty about how excited he was.

“Do you think they’ll let me pick the movie? Have they let you pick a movie yet?” Remus stumbled out of his room the night of the event wearing nothing but the boxers he agreed to wear for tonight. Janus waited for him by the stairwell with his own silky pajamas on.

“Roman wasn’t going to let me pick the movie, but Patton forced him to after he stole my hat when they watched Frozen,” Janus said. He smiled when he saw the large stuffed Cthulhu Remus was currently hugging against his chest. “I’m sure they’ll play your movie if you asked.”

Remus snorted at the mere idea and shoved Janus towards the door. Janus smirked, though he was awfully nervous about bringing Remus along. He didn’t wish for any of the sides to exclude him again or— heaven forbid— distrust him again because he wanted to bring his beloved friend (and family, night he add) along.

As he and Remus arrived, the mood considerably dampened. Patton even let out a little “oh my goodness” at the sight of the infamous duke. Janus paid no mind to them as he took his usual spot at the end and Remus happily sat at his side.

They all waited in some… expected silence that both Janus and Remus reveled in. Janus more than Remus, really. As much as Remus loved making them squirm, he wasn’t the biggest fan of silence.

“Remus…” Patton was the first to say anything. He laughed nervously. “Uh, hi there… sorry I wasn’t aware you were coming—”

“Yeah, why is the skunk head here!?” Roman shouted, a whine carrying in his voice that made Remus giggle.

“Why not!” He retorted. Roman glared at him and pointed to all of him.

“And not respecting our rules!”

“Or himself.” Virgil muttered. Janus rolled his eyes. They’ve all seen Remus naked before, it wasn’t like there was anything new beside a few scars.

“And where in the name Poseidon, did he get that /adorable/ plushie of the Gods!?” Remus hugged his Cthulhu tighter at the mention of him.

“I got that for him,” Janus said, pointedly ignoring Roman’s original question. He challenged him to say otherwise with a look. Judging by Roman’s sputtering and pouting, he had won. “What are we watching tonight, hm?”

“Well, we were just about to vote—”

“Cinderella! Cinderella!” Remus shouted, practically vibrating in his seat and startling Logan into shutting up and moving closer to Patton. Remus didn’t seem to care though. “I want to watch Cinderella! Please, please, please!”

“Cinderella?” Patton and Roman sounded surprised by the plea, pleasantly and utterly confused respectfully.

“It’s his favorite.” Virgil sighed, rubbing his forehead. Remus has bugged them all about why Cinderella is his favorite many times before.

“Especially the live action one.” Janus added, watching with guarded fondness as Remus bounced and clapped his hands, nodding enthusiastically with excitement.

“Well… that sounds like a perfectly… reasonable movie to watch?” Patton ended his sentence like a question, looking at the others around him for any reason not to do it. Roman still shook his head and frowned deeply. He pointed at Remus again.

“I don’t trust his excitement,” he announced. “He’s going to try and ruin this movie for us, I know it.”

“Please, Roman, when has Remus ever ruined anything?” Janus says as innocently as he could, bringing a wine glass that he had just summoned up to his lips.

“Oh, oh!” Remus wiggles in his seat, excitedly slapping Janus’ knee. “What about that time I ruined Christmas for—”

“Let’s start the movie, shall we?” Janus interrupted Remus quickly. He cleared his throat and waved for the tv to turn on to the movie they had all— in theory— agreed upon. Remus was quickly distracted with a squeal as the classic Disney theme started playing.

They’ve all settled now that the movie started. There was the added unease as they continued to glance apprehensively in their direction. Janus continued to sip on his wine as Remus’ eyes stayed intently on the screen.

“So— if I may ask—” Logan started, keeping his eyes on the screen as well as everyone else as he talked. “Why is this your favorite movie, Remus? It seems uncharacteristic.”

“Cinderella is about being hated by her only family left and unable to leave her confinement, forced to act a certain way because of her step-mother’s favoritism,” Remus explained without a thought on if his honesty would make the others uncomfortable, and it certainly did. “Also in the original story, birds scratch out the step-families eyes as karma for being so cruel and I always thought that was neat.”

They all shuffled farther away.

As the movie continued and Janus got steadily tipsier, they’ve started to relax and enjoy the movie. Remus and Janus have started to lean against each other, Remus’ chin on his shoulder and Janus’ head against his. It was always better to drink a little when watching a movie with Remus, makes all the shouting in his ear easier to deal with and all his jokes and facts a little funnier. However, because of the wine, his guard was down around the others and he actually moved to sit on Remus’ lap without thinking about his image, settling Cthulhu in his own lap while Remus wrapped his arms around him.

He didn’t even remember they were still there until Patton had spoken up about it.

“I figured you didn’t like hugs, Janus?” He said, startling Janus out of his relaxed state. He tried putting his guard up again, but it was hard when he was a little drunk and also Remus was so warm and comfortable.

“Doesn’t like hugs? Ha!” Remus let out a loud, incredibly false laugh that made Janus smile and duck his head at the sound. “DJ Anus here loves hugs! Especially when he’s hammered! He’s extra affectionate when drunk, huh sexy?”

Remus squeezes him closer as he teases him and Janus rolls his eyes. He couldn’t help his smile though as he leaned into the touch. He holds up his glass.

“I’m not hammered, as you say,” he turned his head to look at Remus, nose brushing against his cheek. “I’m… just a little buzzed. Totally different.”

Remus giggled and rocked them back, pulled Janus completely on his lap. Janus looked like a little child as Remus curled around him like a protective shield, Cthulhu abandoned beside them.

“This is weird…” Virgil muttered, looking mildly uncomfortable with the public affection. “I don’t remember you two being so… close.”

“You never came to our movie nights.”

“Because you made us watch The Purge and then terrorized us for months about it after.”

“Eh, that movie was shit anyways,” Janus waved him off, eyes back on the movie. Cinderella had just found out about the ball. It was only a matter of time before Remus noticed and made any jokes about it, Janus needed to focus on not snorting at any of them to make sure he still had some dignity left after tonight. “Seriously, there are millions of things you can do during these crime free days instead of wearing a mask and murdering innocents.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Remus said. Virgil made a face.

“I’m still reeling at the fact that anyone would willingly be that close to Remus,” Roman’s expression was sour as he watched them spoon out of the corner of his eye. “Are you not worried he might get too excited like this?”

“Oh, it’s happened before, but it’s nothing to worry about,” Janus clarifies, though he did feel a sting of annoyance at Roman’s disapproval. “And for your information, Remus is a fantastic cuddler. He only smells a little putrid and you get used to it.”

Remus giggles and hugs Janus tighter for a moment, the deceitful side practically drowning in his arms. He let out an excited shout and pointed wildly at the screen, leaning over Janus.

“Oh! Oh! This is my favorite scene!” He shouted, referring to Cinderella being trapped in her attic and the added backstory to the step-mother.

With the distraction in place, they all settled in and watched the end of the movie. Janus thought this night was rather successful. He might think differently tomorrow when he wasn’t drunk, but he did get to spend at least one of these movie nights safe and warm in his favorite side’s arms.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #fic #dukeceit #it speaks

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jj-babebank · 3 years

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Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 5

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being… Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death. Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 Masterlist

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Part 5 -

53 days of camp left

The first day at Camp Willowdale was usually pretty straightforward – campers arrive, sign in, move into their designated cabins where they meet their counselors, then all gather in the Wildcat Lodge to get their schedules, maps, badges and compasses. Ever since Pricilla’s daughter left her, she ditched the idea of having a stable with horses at camp (saying it reminded her way too much of Wendy, and also cost a lot of money to maintain), and settled for scavenger hunts in full scout mode in the forest, hence the compasses and badges. Every camper was given a first badge for participation and would get the chance to earn new badges to add to their collection during their nine week stay. Pricilla made sure that there was a badge for literally everything – from successfully starting a fire to throwing out the trash. She liked to do this to make all the campers feel included and special, which on its own sounded like a wonderful thing, however her actual motives were selfish – happy kids meant happy parents, and happy parents meant money. She also liked to turn everything into a competition, so she established a scoring system that nobody but her understood, where she’d award or deduct points from different groups and the group with the most points at the end of the summer will be crowned conquerors of the camp at a made up end-of-summer event Pricilla named the “Camp Will-all-hail banquet”. Caroline always found the name to be extremely tacky, but much like mostly everything that Pricilla put her finger onto, it wasn’t surprising.

JJ and Caroline had gotten assigned to Teens 2. Unsurprisingly, everyone in their group was almost their age, which seemed like somewhat of a recipe for disaster, as Caroline feared that this could result in the teens refusing to follow orders from someone who is basically their age. She was pleasantly surprised to find out that their group of teens was actually quite well-mannered and well-behaved. John B and Sarah’s teens, however, were a whole different story.

“You sure you got T2 and not T1?” panted Sarah after finally sitting down at the counselors table beside Caroline for dinner.

Caroline smirked, “Positive,” she confirmed, not being able to hide her amusement at the sight of an already tired Sarah, “Why’d you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Sarah sarcastically, “Well, besides all the girls, and I’m pretty sure one of the boys, having a massive thing for John B, and them all quite literally being the spawns of Satan, hm… no reason,”

Caroline laughed at Sarah’s words, looking over at the table where her group and Sarah’s were seated at. Two of the T1 girls were giggling while telling a story, while everyone else’s attention was on them. Caroline came to the conclusion that they would be the It Girls at this year’s camp, bossing everyone around. She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony that it was Sarah who got these two as they were literally mini versions of her.

“Heard my name being called,” John B slid onto the bench across the table from the girls. Now that everyone had been sorted, the Wildcat Lodge seating area had been rearranged so that the groups would be sat together according to their ages, and the counselors would be sat together according to their groups. The head staff had their own table at the very foot of the podium, right next to where the food was, conveniently.

JJ was quick to join their group at their respective table, “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Caroline said nonchalantly, “Just Sarah being jealous over her girls liking John B, no biggie,” Sarah kicked her under the table, earning an, “Ow!”

John B’s eyes immediately shot up, that familiar twinkle of excitement swimming through his honey orbs, “Jealous?”

“As if,” barked Sarah, squinting her eyes at him threateningly.

“We’ll see about that, baby cakes,” John B winked, diving into his dinner.

“So,” said JJ, lowering his voice in case any of the neighboring tables were listening, “What’s the plan, guys?”

Caroline shook her head, “I don’t even know where we could start, I mean, the only clue we’ve got so far is that message we had to scrub off the rock this morning before the campers arrived…”

John B thought for a second, “Hey, wasn’t Topper paired up with her?” he said suddenly.

Caroline’s eyes widened in realization, “John B, you’re a genius!” she said, earning a proud smile from the boy, “Last night at the counting, Topper said something about feeling guilty for not offering her his jacket!” the four of them turned to look towards Topper’s table. He was sitting quietly, barely poking at his food, while the rest of his fellow counselors were having an animated conversation around him. Caroline turned back towards her friends, “Chances are he was the one who saw her last!”

“Yeah, and judging by the look of his face, he doesn’t seem too excited about it,” remarked JJ.

“Can you blame him? I’d be pissed if I was paired with Madison, too,” muttered Sarah, scrunching her nose at the leafy salad in her plate.

“Tonight at the bonfire,” said Caroline, “Sarah’s going to offer him some help with his girls, seeing as he’s dealing with all of his kids alone,”

“Hey, why me?” Sarah frowned at the plan.

“Because you’re the one who had a massive crush on him back in the day,” Caroline whispered in Sarah’s ear, resulting in Sarah kicking her under the table again. Caroline bit back a groan as she smiled forcefully, looking at the two boys in front of her, “Okay, well, sounds like we’ve got a plan.”

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After handing out the songbooks and marshmallows to all of their teens, Caroline, JJ, Sarah and John B took a seat at their designated log next to their groups, which had somehow bonded during dinner and were all laughing together.

“Alright, settle down kids!” Pricilla said, causing everyone’s chatter to die down, “As you have already been informed, it is a Willowdale tradition to perform our very own rendition of Bomfiara every morning and night until the end of camp. The songbooks you’ve been kindly given by your counselors contain the lyrics to all of the camp songs we’re going to be singing this summer, but I’m sure that by the end of it you won’t be needing the books anymore,” Pricilla fake-laughed at her own joke while everyone just started at her blankly, “Okay, well, let’s sing!” she gave the tone and everyone started signing.

“This is so lame,” said one of the girls Caroline proclaimed as “It Girls” earlier that evening, “We’re too old for this BS,”

“You got that right,” mumbled Sarah.

“Oh, come on, I love it, it used to be our favorite tradition!” whined John B.

The two girls squealed and started pinching each other, immediately opening their songbooks and joining in on the singing, making intense eye contact with John B with their best seductive looks. Sarah rolled her eyes at the scene.

“See?” she whispered to Caroline, “This is what I meant!”

Caroline smirked at the blonde girl, “Am I sensing… jealousy?”

Sarah scoffed at the remark, “Pf, yeah right,” she said defensively, “I’m just annoyed that they’re only listening to what he’s saying and we’re supposed to be counselors together.”

Caroline nodded slowly, pretending to be buying the story, “Yeah, sure,” she turned to look at Topper, who regardless of the fact that he was surrounded by his group and fellow counselors, still seemed down, the camp fire illuminating his distant face, “Speaking of together, when do you wanna go talk to Topper?”

Sarah followed Caroline’s gaze towards the boy, “Once this stupid song is over,”

Caroline nodded and both girls turned towards their group again, where the It Girls were still making sexy eyes at John B, who seemed totally clueless to their approach as he was belting the lyrics of the much familiar song out loud, waving JJ’s hands every so often.

Once the song was over and everyone got back to their regular chitchat, Sarah stood up and straightened her shorts and camp sweatshirt as she made her way towards Topper.

“Hey, Top, this seat taken?” she said, referring to the empty spot on the log next to him where Madison was supposed to be sat.

Topper looked at Sarah as if she’d just said a distasteful joke, “Hey, Sarah…” he muttered, “Obviously not,”

“Awesome!” Sarah smiled widely, plopping down next to the boy.

“So,” Topper started awkwardly, “What brings you here?”

“Saw you from across the pit,” she explained directly, “Couldn’t help but notice that you seem lonely,”

“Yeah, well,” Topper looked at her with a look of disapproval once again, “I sort of am,”

Sarah pretended to only just realize what he was talking about, “Riiight… So, about that,” she chirped again, “Last night you said something about a jacket?”

Topper sighed, “Yeah, Madison said she was cold when we were in our cabin and instead of offering her my jacket, I sort of felt… relieved that she was going to leave me for a second to go grab hers. I should’ve known that something was wrong when she was gone for over 10 minutes, instead I just laughed around with Kelce and the boys and then we heard the scream…”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Oh, please, you’re not blaming yourself for it, are you?”

“I mean, I kinda am,” Topper confessed, “If I wasn’t too caught up in being annoyed that I’d been paired up with her, I’d have just given her my jacket or followed her to your cabin to get hers and none of this would’ve happened,”

Sarah tried putting on her best apologetic smile as she reached for Topper’s hand, taking him by surprise, “Look, Top, I hate Madison just as much as the next person, but I hardly think any of this was your fault. She probably just used the jacket as an excuse to ditch and got excited to see her rookie boyfriend, hence the scream,”

Topper frowned, “Don’t tell me you actually believe all that?”

Sarah shrugged, “I mean, she was a drama queen,”

Topper pulled his hands away from Sarah’s, shaking his head, “Just go, Sarah,”

Sarah looked over towards her friends across the fire pit who were all staring at her in anticipation, as she shrugged her shoulders and mouthed them a, “Sorry, I tried,” making her way back to where they were seated.

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A/N: Camp has finally officially begun and so has the search for truth ~~ As always, let me know what you think, I hope you are enjoying the story so far, I'm super excited to be writing this xxx

tags: @k-k0129 ; @hayleyy-l ; @marvellover04

Part 6 here

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